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#stray kids fanfiction
starryychan · a day ago
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Crimson Rose || Lee Minho
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Crimson Rose || Lee Minho Oneshot
Genre: Angst, little bit of fluff, high school au, best friends au
Word Count: 3K
⚠️Warnings: this fanfiction contains depictions of violence (blood, car accident) and character death. Please read at your own discretion.
🎧 I.L.Y. by The Rose and Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie
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Minho always tried to live his life without regrets. Partially because he was afraid of looking back and wishing he’d changed things. Partially because he already did-and he wasn’t willing to make that same mistake twice.
He hadn’t thought it would end at all. He could still recount the years and years he’d spent with you as if every memory was of yesterday. He’d instantly clicked with you, something rare for him; but it had just felt right to be your friend. You’d teased each other relentlessly, but never hesitated to stand up for the other when someone crossed the line.
You’d gotten so close that people often confused you for a couple-something you’d laughed at every time the confusion had been voiced. Minho had laughed, too, but mostly to hide the fact that he wouldn’t mind that being true.
Wouldn’t mind? Ha. He’d dreamed of it.
But you’d continued to be his ever sturdy friend, roping him into blind double dates when you didn’t want to meet a new potential candidate by yourself. He’d tried, knowing your feelings were solely platonic. But he’d never been able to silence the whispered what if? in his mind. Still, he couldn’t tell you. You were far too precious to him to risk losing over some silly fantasy he had.
And so he remained your closest, most trusted friend. He was with you through thick and thin, through every moment big and small. Through birthdays, break ups and everything in between. The time you’d fallen from that old oak tree and fractured your wrist, in which Minho had painfully dragged you home to get you to a hospital. That one day you’d come to his front door, holding a mangled bundle of fur-hardly recognizable anymore to be your beloved cat-to your chest. You trembled, splotched and bloody creature cradled tenderly in your arms. Crystal tears traced your cheeks, and your strained red eyes met Minho’s as you spoke, voice quivering.
“I didn’t think it would end this way.”
He’d been with you when you’d buried the poor cat, and the days you’d break down again, deeply missing your friend. He’d been with you as you’d healed, slowly and surely, through his support and your own undeniable strength.
You’d always been so strong.
Suitors came and went at an alarming pace; near the end of 11th grade, another cat made its way into your home. For some reason, she loved Minho. You’d said the cat had taste. Minho refrained from inquiring upon your taste, bashing himself for still liking you. Even after two whole years of having a crush on you, your smile gave him all sorts of butterflies, and he cursed his weak heart for being so affected by you.
Senior year of high school came quickly. You suffered from heartbreak early into the year, and Minho couldn’t keep his frustration at bay this time. You gave your heart away far too easily, keeping it vulnerable on your sleeve for anyone to play with.
“I don’t know why.” You confessed to him one day, curled up beside him on your porch swing. Your cat was stubbornly perched on Minho’s lap as he tried his best to listen patiently to you speak. “I don’t know why I let them in so easily. I don’t even like most of those guys that much.”
“Then why do you date them?” Minho asked, mind swirling in confusion. It made no sense to him.
A minute before you slowly answered. “I guess… maybe because I’m scared.” You muttered, playing with the rips in your jeans.
He’d looked at you then, noticing the light sparkle in your eyes. Tears?
“I’m scared I’ll end up alone, with no one to love me.” You whispered, a small tremble shaking your voice.
Minho could only watch you for a moment, head spinning with confusion and worry. He’d never realized your fears. He’d only ever assumed you’d done it for fun or something. But you were really scared.
“But is it really worth it if you don’t love them back?” Minho eventually responded, running his fingers over your cat’s head, a small purr rising from the creature. “Isn’t that more lonely?”
Minho stared at you, as if that could help him see inside your head. He didn’t understand. He wasn’t good at reading you. What on earth were you thinking all this time? Did you not realize that you’d always had him?
But is it really worth it if you don’t love me back?
Throw it back in my face. Give me some excuse to keep hoping.
You looked right into his eyes, and Minho swore he saw something different in them. Something changed in that instant, something he couldn’t understand. Was he really so clueless?
“I guess.” You murmured, before turning away again, head moving to lean tentatively on his shoulder. Minho only realized he’d been holding his breath when he’d completely run out of air.
He was so stupid to hope. Yet he did, anyway.
You stopped dating around. Senior year continued, a mix of cramming for tests and wasting time in hidden cafes you pulled Minho to. It was the month before when Minho finally realized prom was approaching-fast. Neither of you had dates. You didn’t even have a potential candidate this time.
You didn’t seem interested, either-which concerned Minho, since this was so out of character for you. Especially when you confessed that you didn’t even know if you wanted to go to prom at all.
“What do you mean?” Minho demanded, sitting across from you at the cafe, while you carefully sipped a steaming mug of tea.
“I don’t know,” you shrugged, glancing out the window at the rain. “Feels kind of pointless.”
Minho frowned, as you drank your tea for a minute before adding, “I don’t have anyone who wants to go with me anyways.”
“Are you kidding? You could come with me.” Minho only registered the words after they left his mouth, and desperately begged you didn’t notice his flaming ears when you looked back at him, surprised. He quickly added, “Since we both don’t have dates.”
“You don’t have anyone you want to take?” You questioned, setting your mug down.
I only ever wanted to go with you.
Different words came out. “No. Why not go together?” He picked up his iced coffee, a perfect distraction from the way you were watching him, and the frantic beating of his heart.
“Okay.” You answered, and it had taken everything in Minho to not spill his iced coffee all over his shirt in shock.
“Really?”
“Really.” You confirmed, nonchalant as you resumed the sipping of your tea. “Why not?”
It took only two minutes after watching you leave the shop for him to begin to fret as reality set in.
He was going to prom with you.
He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to scream, dance or puke. Maybe all of them.
Maybe that was why you were both completely unprepared when prom week rolled around. Minho gathered the help of Changbin and Chan to assist him in picking out a tux and advice on what the hell to do and say. Nervous energy bottled up inside of him as the day approached. He spotted you in the hallways, but this time he avoided having to talk to you. He swore it seemed like you were doing the same thing.
At last he bumped into you the day before, and blurted, “Can I pick you up at 7?”
Was that… redness on your ears? “Sure.” You responded, smiling at Minho. “I’ll be ready.”
Was he the only one feeling awkward? “Okay, cool.”
He practically ran away after a quick goodbye. His mind felt like it was inside a blender. This was really happening.
The day of, he was only a minute early to your house, trying to control his nerves as he knocked and was let in by your mother. You were just finishing getting ready, and Minho found you sitting at your desk, the mirror assisting you as you tried to clip on dangling earrings.
His mind went instantly blank.
The sleeveless black dress hugged your curves and edges in the very best way, the long tulle skirt draping down to your ankles. It sparkled in the light whenever you moved, hands still desperately working with the earring in your hand. Minho admired the sleek bodice, the criss-cross pattern over your back, your exposed shoulders, the sway of the skirt as you tucked your feet back.
Minho had to mentally shake himself several times before you noticed him staring. He cleared his throat and tapped twice on your doorframe. “Y/n?”
You jumped in your chair, nearly knocking over a small box of jewelry in the process. “Minho! I didn’t realize-you were here.” You grabbed a small necklace and carefully clasped it around your neck. Minho’s eyes took in the curve of your collarbone where the tiny diamond sat hanging from its gold chain.
Gosh, he had to stop staring.
“I… have something.” He spoke, slowly pulling a small box from behind his back, opening it to show you the contents. A corsage decorated with bright red roses sat perfectly in place, and you stared at the roses for a moment in silence. Minho refrained from biting his lip as he waited for your response. He’d known you’d liked roses but he hadn’t been sure about colour-he should have figured out your dress colour beforehand-
“Crimson roses.” You eventually murmured, so quietly Minho could barely hear you.
“Huh?”
“Crimson roses. They represent grief.”
You were so odd, knowing the meaning of every single flower. “Well, I just thought they were pretty.” He shrugged. “And I thought they might look even prettier on you.”
He ignored the reddening of his own cheeks, while simultaneously noting the way you flushed and tried to brush it off by speaking up. “Well…”
You held out your arm, allowing Minho to slip the band onto your wrist. Your pretty smile appeared, a little shy around the corners. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful.” He responded, and you blushed again when you noticed his eyes were only looking at you.
Minho drove you both, nerves building up over time as you neared the location. His mind was busy with thoughts. What was going to happen when you got there? Would you want to dance? Well, it was prom, of course you would want to dance, he told himself. And that thought alone was enough to send his heart racing.
Your close proximity in the car felt different than every other time you’d rode shotgun with him. You smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg. Why did you smell so nice?
Thankfully, Minho made it to the prom venue with his sanity still intact. He offered you his arm, as nonchalantly as possible. You accepted, lightly gripping the sleeve of his tux. He allowed himself a small breath, before smiling at you and nodding. “Ready?”
Your only response was to pull him closer to the strobe lights and photo booth, pointing excitedly to the stations. Minho didn’t mind at all when you dragged him into the booth, taking way too many pictures together. With each camera flash, his nerves dissolved as you both fell into your natural rhythm again; the only difference being, whenever Minho saw you smile, a million butterflies swarmed into his stomach.
The number increased into the billions when you pulled him onto the dance floor halfway through the night. “It’s prom, we have to dance!” You giggled, taking Minho’s hands and moving them to the correct position for the dance. Flustered, he barely registered his hands on your hips before you moved, spinning around the floor. Instantly the lights and fellow dancers melted away, and Minho could only focus on the music, your laugh, and his feet. He wasn’t clumsy normally-but something about dancing with you made his feet tangle together within the first seconds.
“I thought you could dance!” You teased, laughter bubbling from your painted lips.
He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow at you. “You want to see dancing?”
His grip on you tightened as he picked up his pace again, focusing on the music as he soared across the ground. You gasped, eyes wide in surprise, before your fingers curled around his biceps and you began to dance with him. Energy flowed through Minho’s veins as he twirled you once, twice; you were laughing that beautiful laugh of yours; and the dance ended far too quickly.
You paused as the crowd around you cheered, and applauded with them. Minho pulled his hands back from you to clap, a sudden shyness taking him over.
Stop being so nervous, you idiot! His mind shouted, while another voice screamed back, BUT SHE’S SO DAMN CUTE.
He mastered himself, before offering his hand to you as the music picked up again. “Up for another round?”
You beamed, accepting the hand. “Definitely.”
If this is a dream, please don’t let me wake up just yet.
You danced until your feet were both soar. You took your heels off after a while, the shoes bothersome, and Minho teased you by stepping lightly on your toes. At last, the late night sky was far too pretty to resist. You pulled Minho away from the party, to run away from the noise and chaos for the moment. You found yourself on your favourite bridge, overlooking the river. Minho remembered the times you would meet here, just to watch the sunset. Today, you were guarded by the stars.
You settled your arms on the railing, staring out at the water. Minho was right beside you, watching you tap your bare feet on the pavement.
“You know,” you murmured, turning your eyes to the sky. “I’m glad we went together.”
Minho’s weak heart fluttered at your words, and he had to work extra hard to keep himself from smiling too widely. “You know what? Me too.”
You grinned at him, turning to look Minho in the eyes. Your own deep orbs reflected the starry sky, and the faint lights of the city behind him. You let your fingers trace over the railing before looking back at the water. Minho swore he saw you blush in the faint light as you muttered, “Thank you for being my prom date.”
Maybe it was the blush, or the way you looked in the dim light, or the energy from the night. Either way, he suddenly wanted to throw all care to the wind and just confess-everything. His feelings for you, that had failed to fade over the years, cause he swore he’d never loved someone as much as he loved you. And finally, he didn’t feel quite as hopeless. For the first time in so long, he really felt he might have a chance with you.
He should have just told you at that prom. He shouldn’t have had any regrets.
Instead, Minho glanced at your hand and the red roses clasped to your wrist. What if he reached out to hold your hand for starters? How would you react?
He allowed himself a deep breath before connecting your fingers, and carefully intertwining them. You tensed, stepping back from the railing to look at your hands together. Minho held his breath; nowhere to run now. You let your arm stretch out, Minho’s back tense against the railing, as he waited impatiently.
“Your hand feels nice in mine.” You murmured at last, and Minho’s mind flew into a frenzy at the words. You smiled, a bit shyly. “You know-”
The screeching of tires interrupted, and someone screamed as a car barrelled over the bridge‘s right lane. Minho met your eyes, saw you step towards him, before the rampant vehicle slammed into your body.
Your hand was ripped from his.
Several weeks later, he still remembered every detail of the crash. Collapsing beside your crumpled broken figure, and touching your bloody sides as he desperately shouted your name over and over. Your black dress was stained with crimson. Your eyes stared at the night sky, glassy and cold.
He’d screamed. He’d begged for you to come back, tears streaming across his cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours, a wave of darkness shrouding his mind as it registered: the light of his life was gone.
Dead.
Why you? Why’d it have to be you?
They’d had to drag him away when the ambulance arrived, but Minho knew it was too late. His parents had come, whispered comforting words into his ears, words he didn’t even here.
You can’t leave. Please don’t leave me.
The funeral was held just over a month later. The day after the ceremony, he found himself at that same bridge. He faced it alone, accompanied only by a single rose, and so early in the morning that wispy fog still covered the bridge. The only sound was the rushing river and the faint noise of traffic. Minho could barely hear it as he looked down at the pavement. You’d stood here, alive and happy, a month and a half ago. You’d look at the stars, and Minho had almost believed a future with you was possible.
But you’d been ripped away from him. You’d been ripped away from everything. You hadn’t deserved that.
He gripped the flower in his hand tighter, blood red petals ruffled gently from the wind, as he approached the railing. He barely made it a couple steps before collapsing shakily to the cement.
The screeching of burning tires echoed in his head over, and over, and over again.
Minho shakily set the crimson rose atop the bridge, bending his head as his eyes squeezed shut against tears that poured down his face anyways. His body shook with silent sobs; his fingers dug into the rose stem, paying no attention to the thorns cutting his flesh and leaving small pools of blood to stain his skin red.
His words echoed into the mist. “I’m sorry I never told you how much I love you.”
———
Masterlist
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skz-bb · a day ago
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TikTok Challenges | Felix
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pairing: reader/felix (reader/felix/jisung/chan if you squint)
characters: Reader, cat hybrid Felix, squirrel hybrid Jisung, wolf hybrid Chan
word count: 1.3k
warnings: none, just fluff and cute, wholesome hybrids!
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summary: You’re stuck working at home during the pandemic, good thing you have your sweet hybrids to keep you company! The three like to take turns keeping you company as you work, but after Felix sees a TikTok trend, he decided you’d be perfect to try it out on.
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Felix peered around the corner of the door, his tail lazily flicking behind him as he snuck a glance of you focusing on your work. One good thing about your design career, he noted, was that when the pandemic hit, there was little to no problem that surfaced when you moved your office home. Being able to work from home meant more time to spend with the other members of your house, resulting in three happy hybrids.
As the pandemic was in the beginning stages, Felix, your cat hybrid, took to posting on TikTok to pass the time. Though he hasn’t introduced you to his followers, he found the perfect TikTok challenge to try on you, wanting to include you in his videos. After having a dancing video go viral, Felix stated roping your other hybrids in his videos. These mainly consisted of Jisung, your squirrel hybrid, helping Felix prank your poor wolf hybrid, Chan. Felix’s viewers instantly fell in love with Jisung’s puffy cheeks and Chan’s puppy eyes, the three continuously gaining followers every day.
You constantly made sure to tell your boys that they were always welcome to join you in your office, knowing a distraction from your screen would be much needed after hours working on designs. Your hybrids always tried to help you in some way throughout the day, the three taking turns visiting your little office space.
Jisung liked to join you when the other two members of the house were busy, bringing you little snacks to get you through the day. He loved being able to watch you work but would easily get distracted after a while of just sitting on your office couch. Chan would come in to bring you drinks, making sure you stayed hydrated throughout the day. The wolf loved to sit with you while working on his own computer, always excited to give feedback on whatever you were working on. Whether it be a new logo or trying to decide between fonts for your new typography project, Chan’s your go to for feedback. When it comes to Felix, he loves taking catnaps on the couch in your office, saying the clicking and typing of your computer helps him sleep. The purrs that the cat hybrid let out in his sleep honestly do wonders for your concentration throughout the day. So, any of your boys coming into your office throughout the day is welcome surprise for you.
Felix tried to quietly sneak into your office, attempting to find a space to prop up his phone. His eyes fall on the ledge next to the door and places the device on your plant shelf, making sure the camera was facing your chair before pushing a small succulent in front of the screen to try to hide the phone.
Felix gives a smile and a small thumbs up to the phone before taking a step back and pushing through the door, trying to make you think he had just come into the room.
You look up and spin your chair towards the sound of the dull thud against the wooden door, giving an excited smile to Felix as he walks in the room, “Hey, Lixie! What’s up, hun?” You ask as he makes his way towards your desk.
Felix returns the smile, walking around to see your screen as he says, “The others are busy, so I wanted to come see you. Which project is this?”
“This one is for the brewing company in the city over, they wanted a full rebrand, which means new labels for the cans,” You let out a tired sigh. Your eyes light up a moment later, looking behind him at the couch, “I got you a new blanket! I brought it in here so you could use it for your naps on the couch,” You say as you lightly grab his hand.
He squeezes your hand and quickly turns around, walking towards the blanket and letting out a quiet purr as he touches the fluffy fabric. “I’m glad you like it!” You giggled.
Felix quickly wraps the blanket around his shoulders and makes his way back to you, gently tugging at an arm rest to have the chair fully facing him. He slowly climbs into your lap, straddling your thighs and tucking his head into your neck. You wrap your arms around him in surprise, holding his waist to ensure he won’t fall out of the chair as he’s trying to settle in your lap.
Felix lets out a happy sigh and nuzzles into your neck, fully snuggled up to you. “I think I’m ready for the nap now.”
You try not to coo at the kitten in your lap, bringing your hand up to his ears and lightly running your nails over the base of his ears. The purrs vibrating in his chest make you giggle, leaning back slightly in your chair to get a better hold around his waist. You aren’t very surprised at this, Felix is definitely the most touchy out of your hybrids, always making sure to be touching or cuddling someone throughout the day.
“Just let me finish this last label, then I’ll be done for the day. We can cuddle in bed and put on a movie,” you say, turning your head to kiss his forehead.
After a few minutes of adjusting the graphics on your screen, you hear Felix’s tired voice mumble. “What’s up, hun?” You ask, your free hand lightly running through his hair. “Would you want to be in one of my videos?” He asked again.
“I’ll be in one if you want me to, let’s just hold off on the pranks for me,” You laugh, thinking back to their most recent prank on Chan, which left the wolf hybrid pouting in his room for the rest of the day.
You feel Felix nodding his head, “We all mention you a lot in the videos, the viewers really want to meet you. They all think it’s cute how much we talk about you when we aren’t pranking Channie hyung,” you chuckled as you heard this, saving your documents until you heard another voice in the doorway.
“No fair, I want to cuddle too!” Jisung whined as he leaned against Chan’s shoulder in the doorway.
Giving him a smile, “Good thing we’re on our way to my room then, huh?” Jisung beamed at this, grabbing Chan’s hand, and yanking him down the hallway into your room. You close your laptop after double checking the documents were saved and gently patted Felix’s thigh, signaling him to move. He brought his arms up around your neck and whined, “No, carry me.”
You heaved a sigh, moving your hands to the backs of his knees and lifting him as you stand out of your chair. He let out a cute giggle as you shift him up, pulling his legs around your waist. As you’re about to walk out of the room, Felix’s arm shoots out towards your plant shelf, making you jump as he almost knocks over a small succulent in his haste.
You raise your eyebrow at him as you see his phone, “Is this why you were asking if I want to be in a video?”
He gives you a guilty smile and quickly nuzzles his face back in your neck, turning off the camera on his phone while doing so.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” You mumble as you walk into your room. You see your other two hybrids on the bed waiting for you, the spot in the middle open for you and Felix. Chan’s tail starts to thud against the bed as you walk in the room, Jisung is already queueing up the movie to watch. You drop the giggling Felix on the bed as soon as you’re close enough and look at the three with a soft smile, excited to relax after a day of tiring work.
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Hi guys! This is the first Stray Kids thing I've written, so hopefully you like it! There aren't really that many hybrid!skz fics out there (✨ a true crime✨) so I made this! This blog is mostly going to be sub!skz content (which this will turn into😉) Thank you guys for reading and don't forget to stream Thunderous! 💕
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kjmsupremacist · 7 hours ago
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!!!TEASER!! you know i can’t leave you alone (hyunjin/chan)
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Hyunjin and Chan have lived for centuries together, letting the world pass them by. They’ve had to come up with creative ways to stave off their boredom. (Or: I saw the vampire stage for Thunderous and the Red Lights MV and ran with it.)
“Are you terrified? Be terrified. It’s you I love.”
—Carol Ann Duffy, Medusa
we’re halfway into september which means it is now officially spooky season. if you disagree you’re incorrect.
Characters: Hyunjin, Bang Chan
Genre: smut, vampires, established relationship, horror
Warnings: brief nongraphic mention of suicide, blood, d/s dynamic, breathplay/choking, bondage, edging, bdsm and general rough treatment, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, unhealthy attachment styles lmao like uh they’re both quite literally a little insane, dark and sexy but mostly dark
Rating: Overall, explicit, but just teen and up for the teaser (tw for blood and injury)
Length: around 7.5k, but just 500 for the teaser (and if there’s enough interest i can always write a sequel!)
Projected Release Date: Saturday, September 18!
you can listen to the official playlist here!
ah, me and my disclaimers. this is, for lack of a better term, rather dark and twisted SJKD. i swear i’m fine. just know it has elements of psychological horror. also, please suspend your disbelief re: the minute details of vampire biology. I don’t know how they can come if they’re dead. don’t ask me LMAO.
ask if u wanna be on the taglist!
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Hyunjin doesn’t remember most things anymore. At a certain point, your brain gets overwhelmed. For the average human lifespan, the brain does alright. It forgets, and forgets plenty, but it remembers enough that, for the most part, the forgetting goes unnoticed. Or, even if it is noticed, it just isn’t significant enough to matter.
But when you live as long as Hyunjin has, the things you do not remember quickly begin to outweigh that which you do. It becomes noticeable, and when it first becomes significant, it matters a lot. Hyunjin has a vague recollection of that fear, the way it gripped him, the panic when he realized he had begun to lose pieces of his human life. But it’s only a shadow now—because now, the forgetting has gotten to the point where it has returned to not mattering anymore. A full circle. A snake that has eaten its own tail.
It’s a constant now. There’s no point in worrying over it. Hyunjin forgets, is forgetting, will continue to forget as sure as the earth will continue to spin steadily to its own destruction; as sure as time will continue its march forward, plodding on and on, dutiful and patient; as sure as the universe will continue its inevitable expansion outward and outward until there is no recognizable shard of the earth nor inkling of time, until there is no memory left to mourn, until there is nothing at all.
But the moment of his turning—the moment Hyunjin died, and came back changed—is one he is sure he will carry with him until the oceans are gas and the planets are dust and the stars have all burned out. It is the only thing now that can still truly scare him. He remembers pain, unparalleled and consuming, like he was being eaten alive, as the venom burrowed its way into every last one of his cells. He remembers the sensation of a hand, which once felt cold on his skin, now the same temperature as Hyunjin’s body. He remembers the fear, sharp and paralyzing, which turned to despair, and finally dread. 
Hyunjin is a vampire, has been one for so many long centuries he gave up counting lifetimes ago. There’s no point. There’s only knowing there was a before and an after, and that he is in the after, and will be in the after forever. 
At least he isn’t alone. Hyunjin has Chan, and if he didn’t have the proof of his existence to stand as evidence, sometimes he might think he has always had him. But that isn’t true. Chan found him after Hyunjin had been turned against his will, and saved him. Hyunjin, if he had a mortal life to give, would willingly lay it down at Chan’s feet. Would then; would still now. Another constant, true now and forever. He could walk every last centimeter of their grounds a thousand times over, on his knees, and still not deserve Chan’s love.
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fizzydrink698 · 3 months ago
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touch | chan
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pairing: bang chan/reader
word count: 7.2k
genre: romance, werewolf au, frenemies-to-lovers
warnings: swearing, dirty talk, hot and heavy making-out, reader is a capital-B Brat, blood (chan’s got those gnarly-looking claw-marks on his back and chest), yes this was entirely inspired by that wolfgang performance
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summary:
Then, he finally notices the first-aid kit in your hand, and he changes.
The corners of his lips turn up, twisting into a smirk. He raises his chin, one eyebrow arching at the sight of you. It’s a smug, quietly dangerous look from Chan that you’ve never seen before. One that sets your nerves on edge, has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.
“Why?” Chan asks, and his hand drifts up to undo his top button. “Are you here to play nurse?”
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There’s something wrong with Chan.
You notice immediately, trying to stay discreet as you watch through the window at the boys as they wander out of the forest, stretching limbs, ruffling dishevelled hair.
You’re still getting used to the whole werewolf thing.
It had only been a few months ago that you had returned from a semester abroad to find that your life-long best friend, Felix, had been bitten by some sketchy creep at a beach bonfire.
There’s no…lingering guilt about not being there. Or anything.
You’re fine.
But Chan isn’t. That’s what you’re so focused on right now.
His expression is guarded, shoulders tense as he walks just a few steps behind the rest of the group. You watch Felix hang back a second, talking to him, saying something you can’t hear through the window. You see Chan shake his head, patting him on the shoulder, and when Felix says something else, he moves his hand to the back of Felix’s head, scratching it affectionately.
You know objectively that Chan taking in Felix was one of the best things to happen for him. From the little you’ve gleaned about werewolves, you know that packs work like a support network. A new family. It’s good for him.
It just…chafes a little that you’re not a part of it. It feels unfair that the only way to regain that position you once held in Felix’s life would be to get bitten too, suffer through the painful transition, disconnect from society, spend days and weeks and months of your life as a mindless animal ready to attack and maul any living thing in sight–
Chan’s limping.
You catch it. Just barely.
You don’t think anyone else has noticed. You think you only caught it because Chan hasn’t noticed you looking.
Hasn’t noticed you.
You were surprised when Chan approached you a few weeks ago with a proposition. It was a simple enough request – staying at their cabin while the full moon happened, house-sitting while they spent the better part of three days doing their wolf stuff. You could catch up on your schoolwork, spend a few days alone to collect your thoughts.
It was nice. Quiet. Maybe a little lonely. But still nice.
You just didn’t see why you were needed. And Chan didn’t really do much to make you feel wanted either.
The other boys like you, you think. Felix obviously adores you, and the others joke around with you and share smiles and try to give you teasing little compliments when they think they can break you down, make you blush. It hasn’t worked so far, but it’s cute that they’re trying.
But Chan’s different. So warm to his boys, so committed to the role as pack leader – but there’s something off in the way he acts with you. Being a wolf, being a leader, is so intrinsic to his being and it’s all meaningless to you. He has no authority over you. He has nothing in common with you.
And he’s intimidating as fuck.
The first of the group finally make it to the door, filing in as they laugh raucously about some inside joke Felix might catch you up on later.
“Is there anything to eat?” Jisung asks, eyes alight.
You scowl. “Why are you asking me? You think I waited around all weekend, cooking you guys dinner?”
You had made it clear from day one that you weren’t going to be some house mother to these guys, some kind of Wendy to their Lost Boys. You had your own life, and you were doing them a favour just by agreeing to stay in such an isolated cabin, miles away from the rest of civilisation.
But as Jisung’s face slowly turns guilty, his gaze shifting to the floor as he is undoubtedly recalling this same conversation, you can’t help but sigh. “…I tried following Felix’s cookie recipe yesterday. There’s some left in the fridge.”
Jisung’s face lights up, and you try hard to keep your expression neutral when he leans in and kisses your cheek. “Cute.”
You shove him away, scowl firmly back in place. “Only the burned ones are left. Fucking help yourself, asshole.”
Jisung just laughs, already heading for the fridge.
Hyunjin, who had followed right behind him, gives you a smile as he takes a seat at the kitchen counter, attempting to tease out a stray twig knotted in his hair. “Thanks for staying.”
You shrug. “Eh. I got some quiet time. Managed to finish outlining my dissertation. It wasn’t the worst weekend, I guess.”
Seungmin is the next to wander through, and you notice the rips in his shirt, the way his right sleeve hangs off his arm in tatters. Felix has informed you of the perils of clothing as a werewolf, how easily things can rip and snag when you don’t quite have the transformation under control yet. It’s hard to undress when you’re literally in the middle of turning in to a big scary man-sized wolf, you suppose.
Jeongin’s shirt is open, every single button apparently a casualty of transforming, seams along his sleeves and sides burst. He passes you by with a sheepish grin, hair mussed, shoulders straightened out just a touch at the sight of you.
Felix throws his arms around you as soon as he walks through the door, shouting his greeting in your ear. He’s practically vibrating, still on the high of adrenaline from whatever wolfy things he did this weekend. Chased deer? Howled at the moon, maybe?
“-so cool, he just pounced on this bear, you wouldn’t believe it. Our Jeonginnie’s getting so strong!”
You close your eyes, burrowing your face in Felix’s shoulder for a second as he recounts the weekend’s escapades in breathless excitement.
Definitely lonely, you think. This weekend has definitely felt lonely.
When you open your eyes, you catch sight of a pair of thick black boots, marching past you. By the time you glance up, you only catch the barest glimpse of Chan’s back retreating from you as he heads up the stairs in silence.
“What’s up with Chan?” You ask, blinking.
“Huh?” Felix pulls away from you to turn, following your gaze to the now-empty staircase. “Uh, nothing much. He always gets kind of quiet after we transform back. It’s kind of intense, especially for him. He’ll be fine.”
You think back to that limp, the way Chan’s body had faltered when he thought no one was looking.
These boys are tough. You know that they’re strong, resilient and heal supernaturally fast. You’ve maybe seen them hurt once or twice, with bruises or scrapes that heal up in about an hour.
You have never seen Chan, the great and fearless pack leader, hurt – and you have definitely never seen him limping like that.
It piques your curiosity.
“Just give me a sec,” you murmur, squeezing Felix’s arm. You turn to the rest of the room, barely sparing a glance at the way Changbin opened the snack cupboard with so much force that he almost ripped the handle clean off. “You guys eat. Maybe wash up a little. I don’t wanna use the phrase ‘wet dog’ but–”
Minho flashes you a grin, and throws up one long, delicate middle finger in your direction.
You purse your lips, blowing him a kiss, before turning on your heel and heading up the stairs after Chan.
His room is at the very end of the hallway. You pass by the bathroom on the way to it, and in a moment of inspiration, you quickly stop there to grab the first-aid kit you kept stocked under the sink.
Chan’s bedroom door is, of course, firmly shut when you arrive. You knock, gently at first, at least making the attempt at politeness. When he doesn’t answer, you try again even harder.
No response.
You resort to pounding your fist against the door. “Chan?”
“…Not now,” finally came the response, the irritation in his tone clear even through the muffling of the wood.
“Chan–”
“Not in the fucking mood.”
You blink at his terse response, before scoffing. Rude.
“Channie,” you sing-song, unable to resist winding him up just a little. “Channie, are you in there?”
“Leave me alone.”
You actually take a step back, staring in shock at the door.
You’ve only heard Chan use that voice on a handful of occasions before. Felix described it as Chan’s ‘alpha voice’ (even after you tried to explain to him that the concept of alpha wolves had already been disproven in science decades ago, “just ask David Mech–”) reserved only for the most serious of situations.
It was something only leaders had, a tone of voice that could bend the will of his pack members, force them to obey whatever he commanded.
Of course, with you not being a werewolf, that ‘alpha voice’ did jack-fucking-shit.
“Oh, scary. Chan’s all grumpy today,” you drawl, stepping forwards again. “I’m not leaving until you let me in, asshole. Now open the fucking door.”
There’s a pause. A long pause.
And then a sigh.
You’re already smirking when the lock turns, and the door slowly swings open to reveal Chan’s thunderous expression. “What do you want?”
“The pleasure of your company,” you retort, already trying to muscle your way in through the gap in the door.
Your shoulder makes contact with his side, shoving against it, and you jolt in shock when Chan reels back, wincing as his hands immediately flew to his ribs.
Oh, fuck.
Something was wrong.
You shut the door behind you, expression softening as you take in the sight of him.
His white shirt is streaked with dirt and grass stains, possibly salvageable with a long hot wash, nothing out of the ordinary. There’s a bright sheen of sweat covering his skin, clinging to the hair at his temples. His jaw is clenched, his nose flaring as he tries to breathe deeply. His whole body is tensed up.
He’s in pain.
You falter, unsure exactly how to deal with this situation now that you had forced your way into it.
“…What happened?”
Chan makes a face, turning away from you as he straightens up, pulling his hands away from his side. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing. Leave it.”
“No.”
Chan closes his eyes, letting out another long sigh through his nose. “Has anyone ever told you how irritating you are?”
“Frequently. It’s one of my charms. What happened?”
His eyes open, and he fixes you with one long, appraising stare. “…You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“The boy catches on fast,” you comment. “What was it? Felix said something about a bear–”
Chan actually chuckles at that – well, you can almost call it a chuckle. A sharp exhale of air that sounds amused as Chan rolls his eyes. “No, it wasn’t the bear,” he says, like it’s obvious.
“So, what was it?”
He falls silent again.
You frown, eyes narrowing at his stubbornness.
Well, two can play at that game.
You turn away from him, wandering over to his neatly made bed and dropping your rear onto it with a graceless thud. You sit there on the edge, legs crossed. You raise an eyebrow, challenging him.
The message is clear – you’re not leaving until you get answers.
Chan’s expression is unreadable as he eyes your new position. “…Get off my bed.”
You smile, and lean back, planting your hands into the soft sheets behind you. “Maybe if you tell me what’s wrong.”
He just stares at you, eyes burning.
You decide to change tactics. Voice softening, you tilt your head as you look up at him. “This is…this is how I show concern. OK? I’m concerned.”
Your words draw out the slightest hint of softness in Chan’s eyes, and you know immediately. Got him.
He swallows, and with a final sigh, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Jeongin…he’s getting strong. Maybe too strong. I was trying to help him transform back, and he…caught me.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, your eyes widening in shock.
He quickly clarifies himself. “By accident, obviously.”
“And the others…haven’t noticed?”
Chan shrugs, then immediately hisses at the pain of it, tensing again for a few moments until he manages to regain his composure. “…They noticed. I just told them I was fine.”
“Of course you did.”
Chan has a talent in persuading people. He’s got this raw charisma about him, the kind that could make you believe anything he wanted if he gave you enough attention, said just the right things.
“How bad is it?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“That’s nice. How bad is it?”
Your tone is sharp, sickeningly sweet. There’s something in you that takes a grim kind of pleasure in condescending to Chan, that enjoys disrespecting him when so many of his pack members seems to worship the ground he walks on.
It’s also the precise way to really push his buttons – which, of course, is a big part of the fun.
Instantly, his expression hardens, and his eyes are back to that burning kind of fury as he glares across the room at you.
Then, he finally notices the first-aid kit in your hand, and he changes.
The corners of his lips turn up, twisting into a smirk. He raises his chin, one eyebrow arching at the sight of you. It’s a smug, quietly dangerous look from Chan that you’ve never seen before. One that sets your nerves on edge, has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.
“Why?” Chan asks, and his hand drifts up to undo his top button. “Are you here to play nurse?”
His tone is mocking, pointed – a perfect reflection of your own.
His hand travels down to the second button.
He’s trying to intimidate you, scare you into submission, send you running out the door.
You grip the kit even tighter in your hand, and watch as he undoes that button too.
“Oh, no. Not skin, Channie,” you remark, voice just a touch too strained for your liking. “Anything but that.”
He ignores you, moving onto the third and then the fourth, shirt gaping open to reveal more and more of his torso as his hands travelled.
This is starting to venture into unfamiliar territory.
But you hold your ground regardless, watching as more and more of his body became exposed.
It’s…it’s a nice body. Lean. Defined. Chan clearly takes care of himself. Works out.
You’re unable to resist following the lines of an emerging six-pack, fading and sharpening with each of his breaths.
You swallow. “…Chan, if you’re just trying to show off–”
He slips the shirt off entirely, and your words catch in your throat.
You stare.
He’s so broad. It’s one thing to see him under clothes, but it’s entirely different to see him stripped so bare, to see the meat of his shoulders and biceps, to see just how big he is.
And normally, your attention would be all over that.
But it’s not.
Because your gaze is caught on the marks on his chest, some still bleeding, some turned shiny and pink as Chan heals himself.
You rise up from the bed immediately, almost jumping to your feet, at the sight.
Chan pauses for just a fraction of a second at your sudden movement. “Wh–”
“Get on the bed,” you order him, no trace of humour in your tone. It is all business, all urgency.
Chan blinks at your words, mouth opening to respond.
“Now,” you snap, looking him over again. “They need to get cleaned out before they heal over, genius. Get on the bed.”
It takes a second for your words to sink in, and his expression shifts when he finally grasps what you’re trying to tell him.
And then, Chan makes the very smart decision to do what you say, brushing past you as he walks towards his own bed and slowly sits down with a wince. “…Go on, then.”
You nod, making your way back to the bed and climbing up onto the mattress, crawling around Chan to check out the damage to his back.
…Fuck.
You’re faced with scores of angry claw-marks, cuts still oozing blood as they decorate his shoulders, his ribs, even the small of his back.
“What the fuck, Chan?” You hiss under your breath, fingers fumbling with the zip of the first-aid kit as you scramble to open it.
“Is it bad?” He asks, his voice so fucking casual.
You can’t even form a response, thoughts too tangled up in the state of his back. You dig for the antiseptic wipes, not exactly ideal for the situation but probably the best thing you had for cleaning these wounds.
“This is going to sting,” you warn, barely giving Chan time to brace himself before you press the wipe to the first of the cuts.
He grunts at the pain, teeth gritted as he tries to bite back any more sound. Of course he’s trying to tough this out.
You’re silent as you try to fix up the worst of his cuts, making do with what you have. The best thing would be to get him under running water – less of a chance of damaging the skin that way.
But considering you had enough of a time just convincing him to let you help him, you doubt you’d be able to persuade him to leave the safety of his bedroom and chance an encounter with his packmates on the way to the bathroom.
So, antiseptic wipes it is.
You finish off the back, applying appropriate dressing to the worst of the cuts. The muscles of his back still tense under your touch, twitching under your fingers. As your panic slowly eases with each treated wound, it’s getting harder and harder not to notice the way he’s built, the grooves and dips of each muscle.
You swallow at the sight. It’s a…it’s a strong back, you suppose.
Gently, very gently, you run your fingers across the planes of his back, paying close attention to the way it shifts underneath. “Any…like, muscle pain? Tightness? Aches?”
“…No. Honestly, it doesn’t even hurt much now. I’ll be fine in, like, an hour.”
You nod, moving your hand away. You’ve seen the effects of wolf healing first-hand. “OK. I’m…I’ll do your front now.”
Chan pauses, before shifting backwards by just a few inches. You shuffle on your knees to his side, watching as he finally settles, before turning his face to meet your gaze. He holds it, very carefully, before slowly leaning back, expression neutral.
Leaving more than enough room for you on his lap.
This feels like another test, you think to yourself, as you eye him with suspicion. Another power-play, meant to throw you off.
You think Chan doesn’t like it when he’s not in control. He’s not used to it.
“What?” Chan says, breaking you out of your trance. “You said you’d do my front. Don’t you need to hurry, before they close up?”
There’s a layer to his tone, the barest hint of challenge, and it has you straightening up in seconds, ready to face him head-on.
Fine. If he really thought he could break you like this, he had another thing coming.
With all the grace and self-assurance you could muster, you crawl back over to him, swinging one leg over him to plant both knees either side of his hips, straddling him without even batting an eye.
“Stay still,” you demand, gripping his shoulder with one hand as you shift your weight around, trying to get comfortable as you hover just a few inches above his lap.
Chan is silent, and somehow that’s even worse than when he was trying to provoke you earlier. You can feel his breath ghost against your ear, hear the tiniest little noises he made whenever you reached a new wound.
And fuck, his chest. His shoulders. His abs. Everything. Just…there’s a lot to take in. If you’re not careful, you’re going to get distracted.
Swallowing, you dab at one of the shallow cuts near his collarbone and finally speak up. “I guess I should say thanks for letting me stay here this weekend. I managed to get a shit-load of essay-reading done.”
Chan hums, and you feel the vibrations under your fingertips. “Good. Thanks for looking after the cabin while we were gone.”
“I still don’t think it was necessary,” you can’t help but add, trying to keep your tone light. “I didn’t really do much.”
“…Felix is always talking about wanting to spend more time with you,” Chan comments, and you pause at his words. “And you get on well with the others. You’re a good influence. Having you here seemed…like a smart idea at the time.”
“Seemed like? At the time?” You repeat, picking up on the subtle implications of his words. “Are you saying it wasn’t smart?”
“There are always risks,” Chan states, non-committal, eyes flickering to look at you. Naturally, your faces are incredibly close in this position – no more than a few inches apart. “Complications.”
“Like what?”
“We always have to stay careful around you, especially around a full moon. You’re more fragile than we are.”
“That’s me,” you retort, sarcasm dripping from your every word. You bring your hand up to his chest to steady yourself as you move on to the next scratch. His skin is warm under your fingertips, smooth. “Delicate little flower that I am. Gotta handle me gently, or I’ll break.”
Chan hesitates before he answers, and when the words do come out, they’re very carefully spoken. “…I don’t know. Maybe you could take a little more.”
“No shit,” you say absently, finishing up the last of his cuts by his shoulder. All pretty superficial, guaranteed to heal in the next hour. “I’m tougher than I look, Channie. I can take a lot.”
Chan doesn’t respond, and when you glance up, you see that his eyes have fluttered shut. He’s taking slow, deep breaths – like he’s meditating, or about to fall asleep.
There’s the tiniest of scratches on his cheekbone.
Gently, very gently, you lift one hand to rest against his face – and his eyes snap open in panic to stare at you.
“You got a thing,” you manage to blurt out, pointing towards the scratch. “There. Just gonna…yeah, clean it. You don’t want something getting infected on your face.”
Honestly, a cut that small is probably not going to get infected – especially with how quickly Chan can heal.
But…well…
You’re a completionist.
Chan stares at you, and for a brief moment, panic starts to take hold in your gut. Have you gone too far?
But instead, he just says. “You’re not usually this…nice.”
“You’d be amazed how nice I can be when you don’t avoid my very reasonable questions.”
“You mean, when you get your own way?”
“That too.”
Chan laughs, eyes still fixed on you. “You’re a bit of a brat, aren’t you?”
He probably just means it innocently, but the way he says ‘brat’, the tone of his voice…
You take a deep breath, fighting back the flush that threatens to creep into your face. “Sometimes. It’s another one of those charms I was talking about.”
Chan doesn’t have a response to that. Maybe he wasn’t expecting you to agree.
You shift again, as your attention turns to the next set of scratches, and by sheer accident, your fingertips catch his nipple. You feel him tense under you, breath escaping him in one sharp exhale, and he hisses. “Careful.”
“Sorry,” you mumble, but you can’t help but examine this new piece of information about Chan with amusement. Sensitive nips. How unexpectedly…cute. “You OK?”
“Mm-hm. Just finish this up quickly,” he says, and there’s an edge of urgency in his tone, a desire to really see you end this as soon as possible.
It sounds foolish, but it’s really only then that you realise just how compromising this position is. Like, objectively, you had known the whole time that you had been straddling Chan – but it had still felt like a game, a competition, a statement.
The idea that he just wanted this over with should feel like victory, but you find yourself a little caught off-guard.
You’re so caught up in these thoughts that you don’t think through your next action. You’re so focused on reaching for that last wound snaking around his rib, just a touch too low for you to reach with your legs in their current position. You just need to lower them, then you can reach, then you can finish. Easy.
That’s why you don’t think twice before you lower yourself onto his lap completely, completely intent on just cleaning the cut and moving on.
And then you feel it.
Something in his lap, not quite pressing up into you, but certainly there. Interested. Insistent.
Chan is getting hard.
Your eyes snap up to meet his, watching as he swallows, struggling to hide the new flush in his face.
“Ignore it.”
“I–”
“It happens sometimes, after a transformation. Body’s still trying to recover, hormones are all over the place. Ignore it.”
“…OK,” you nod, giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s right, it does make some kind of logical sense that his body is still all out of whack from changing. Physiological reactions happen. Dudes pop boners for literally no reason sometimes. It’s fine.
Of course, you’d been around Felix several times after his transformations, ready with water and clean clothes and some good old-fashioned moral support. And never once had this happened.
You can’t help but comment on it – which maybe spoke volumes for your own self-preservation instincts. “I mean, it definitely can’t be the cute girl in your lap or anything.”
Chan stills at your words, and his response is definitely evasive. “…You’re calling yourself cute now, huh?”
“You say it like it’s not the objective truth,” you respond, gently dabbing at that deceptively deep cut on his ribs. He tenses with the pain, and in your new position, you can feel the way his thighs squeeze and harden, the way his breath cuts short. You swallow, feeling a little warm. “I’m decently attractive. I’m very aware of this. It seems you’re aware of it too.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
You smile sweetly at the man under you, the picture of innocence. “Channie, your dick is literally poking me in the leg.”
To your surprise, he flushes at your words, quickly averting his gaze as he tried to keep his expression under control. “…It’s a wolf thing, not a you thing.”
You’re not so sure about that.
You don’t know what to do with this new knowledge. Chan – big, scary, pack leader Chan – finds you attractive. It fills you with a sense of…power. You have to fight to keep the smirk off your face, but there’s no mistaking the smugness growing inside of you with every passing second. “For a wolf thing, you’re very flustered.”
“Maybe it’s because you keep talking about my dick,” Chan mutters.
“You want me to stop?” You ask, only half-teasing. You’re not here to push any limits, make anyone feel uncomfortable.
And again, Chan’s response is evasive. “Are you actually capable of stopping?”
…Interesting.
Testing a theory, your hand returns to the cut on his side, and carefully, you press down.
Chan makes the tiniest pained groan, hand flying up to grab at your hip, squeezing. The sudden contact is enough to jar you slightly, pushing you forward along the slowly growing bulge in Chan’s pants. His grip on your hip tightens.
“You did that on purpose,” Chan hisses through his teeth.
“Keeping pressure on that deep of a wound is important,” you say, shrugging. “I’m sure you can handle it, big guy.”
He growls – a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest – and you roll your eyes.
“Calm down.”
You expect Chan to respond immediately, but he doesn’t. He’s quiet – no, he’s silent. His eyes stay fixed on you, and you’re starting to find the attention a little…much.
“You’ve never been scared of us,” Chan finally notes. “Have you?”
You blink. “Not particularly, no.”
And you really haven’t. As much as you’re aware of the danger they pose, the strength they possessed – hell, just look at the marks Jeongin left on Chan, by accident – you still found it difficult to summon any kind of real fear of them. They were just…dorky young men. Loud. Funny, in their own bizarre ways.
“I trust you,” you add, quietly.
Chan stares back at you, eyes widening just slightly.
You tilt your head. “You seem surprised.”
“I just…didn’t think you liked me very much.”
“…You’re OK, I guess.”
Chan raises an eyebrow at you.
“What you’ve done for Felix…you know, makes up for your personality.”
You’re being a little meaner than usual – probably to compensate for the growing warmth in the pit of your stomach every time you looked too long at Chan’s naked torso, or thought too hard about what you could feel beneath you.
Chan doesn’t seem to even notice.
Instead, he suddenly tilts his head, eyeing you very intently. His eyes narrow slightly.
“Huh.”
“What?” You ask.
“You said you’re not scared?” Chan says, suddenly serious. Intent on something.
You’re somewhat wary when you reply. “Yeah. Of course I’m not.”
You jump, because suddenly Chan’s other hand slides around your neck. Not in a choking position – there’s no pressure at all, his palm is only covering the side of your neck, and his thumb is resting just under the corner of your jaw instead of anywhere near your windpipe.
It’s unexpected enough to render you completely silent for a moment, blinking at him in confusion.
And then you see the corners of his mouth turn up in that familiar smirk, and you feel the pad of his thumb press just a little more firmly into your skin.
“Thought I heard something,” Chan muses, vaguely, and it takes you a few seconds to realise…
His hand. His thumb.
He’s checking your pulse.
…Oh, stupid fucking wolf senses. Of course he could hear how hard your heart was beating – the one tell you couldn’t control.
It feels a little unfair, honestly.
He knows he has the upper hand now, and his entire body language changes with this information. He’s relaxed, open, ten times more confident as he watches you with that teasing smirk. “So, if you’re not scared, why–”
“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, fuming that he’s managed to one-up you with this stupid little supernatural advantage he has.
“I don’t think I will.”
The hand on your hip shifts just slightly, and his thumb presses into the dip of your hipbone, rubbing slow circles into the soft flesh there.
It’s irritatingly effective. You find your own thighs starting to twitch, core clenching.
Chan hums again, this time in amusement, and continues this movement. His other hand drops from your neck to rest on your other hip. It’s a strange balance – there’s no pressure there, his touch is so light but it’s almost…possessive.
The two of you are starting to drift a little close to the edge of something.
Chan is now unmistakeably hard, and you can feel him pressing up into your inner thigh – just a few inches off from your core. It’s taking a lot of willpower to stop yourself from shifting slightly over and getting that pressure right where you needed it. You’re glad you wore jeans today instead of a skirt – there would be no hiding the effect he was having on you without the extra layer of denim separating you from his lap.
“It seems like you’re done with that,” Chan notes, nodding his head towards the first-aid kit by your side, which has sat untouched for a while now.
You look down at it. “…Yeah, I’m finished. You’re all set.”
Despite your words, you make no attempt to leave his lap.
Chan notices, and his grip tightens around you. Not pulling you down onto him, but just…holding. Tightly.
There’s a moment of silence that settles between the two of you. You’re fixated on each other, like two opponents in a game of chess, regarding the other’s every move.
Being the first to give in almost seems like a defeat, an admission of weakness. But if you’re going to go down, you’re going to go down swinging.
Your hand snakes up into his hair, tangling itself in the roots and tugging his head up to meet yours when your lips come crashing down on his.
Chan groans into you, and that’s when he finally relents, squeezing your hips with his hands as he grinds you down onto him. The friction is enough to make you whimper, the embarrassing sound muffled but still painfully audible.
When you finally pull away for breath, Chan is already attacking your throat with kisses, insatiable. You imagine he’s this close to openly rutting up against you – and it’s that desperation that soothes your ego, allowing you to believe you’re saving face here. Does it really count as a defeat when Chan is so clearly the more eager one?
You barely get the chance to savour this thought, before one of Chan’s hands leaves your hip to slowly slide under your shirt, taking his time. He reaches your bra, and you feel him stroke the lacy edge of the cup.
You pause, still shivering with delight as Chan’s mouth finds the sensitive spot just under your ear, and gently mouths at it. “Chan–”
“Just let me know if you want to stop, baby,” Chan murmurs in your ear, breathy. His hand is still on the cup itself, and he makes no attempt to slip his hand underneath just yet.
“Of course I fucking will,” you bite back. It’s like a switch flipped in Chan the second you kissed him – suddenly so intent on taking control, on treating you like something delicate. Where’s the Chan from five minutes ago who wrapped his hand around your neck to prove a point, and argued with you over how his scratches needed treating?
It’s clearly time for you to flip that switch back.
Grabbing his chin firmly, you lifted his face back to yours to initiate another kiss. The hand on his chin slid up to cup his jaw, and you allowed him a few seconds to enjoy himself before you plucked up the courage to execute the first step of your plan.
You let your lips part under the pressure of his, and then suddenly nipped at his bottom lip, not quite drawing blood but certainly adding some pain to his pleasure.
Chan jolts back in shock, eyes blown ride as he reaches up and touches his bottom lip.
“Like I said,” you remind him, resettling your weight across Chan’s hips, ignoring the way he sucks in a breath when your movement sparks another delicious wave of friction. “Tougher than I look. Don’t start being gentle with me now.”
You accompany your words with a roll of your hips, dragging yourself across the front of his pants and this time Chan grips you hard enough to bruise.
You suppress a grin, and instead pat him on the shoulder, condescending. “I mean, unless you can’t handle it–”
Chan cuts you off, crushing his lips to yours, and the hand still on your hip slides around to slip down your jeans and grab at your ass-cheek. An embarrassing squeak escapes your lips, which only makes him even more smug when he murmurs. “Such a fucking brat.”
“Brat? What happened to ‘baby’?”
“Maybe if you start behaving again.”
You get a particularly strong urge to pout, but you figure that would only prove him right, so instead you do the next best thing.
You run one hand down his front, careful to avoid any lingering injuries, and find the button to his jeans. You manage to pop it open with one hand – a surprising display of dexterity, and you’re a little miffed that Chan isn’t suitably impressed – and you only fumble a little with the zipper as you tug it down.
You’re interrupted momentarily when Chan finally decides it’s time to slide his hand under your bra cup, and you bite down a whimper when the rough pad of his thumb brushes over your nipple.
Chan catches on, and focuses all of his attention on teasing that area, again and again. It’s a little embarrassing, how many sounds as he can draw out of you with just one fucking hand on your breast, but at this point, it’s getting a little too difficult to care.
You close your eyes, letting your head dip forward to rest against his, losing yourself in the feeling for just a little while.
You don’t notice that your hand has fallen completely away from his zipper, instead moving to grab at his thigh.
But, of course, Chan does. “Hm? Weren’t you trying to do something there?”
You open your eyes.
This bitch.
It’s probably a bit of a dirty tactic, but you can’t help yourself.
You drop your gaze, taking in a breath before biting your bottom lip. “I…uh…”
Chan blinks at this sudden change in your body language, and pauses. He doesn’t quite withdraw his hand from your breast fully, but his fingers start stroking patterns into your side. “You OK?”
“I’m fine, I’m good,” you make sure to clarify with him, before swallowing. “I’m just…a little worried.”
Already, Chan is settling back into his ‘leader’ role, preparing himself to reassure, to comfort. “What are you worried about?”
You try to keep a straight face. You fail miserably.
“You’ve been hard for so long, I’m worried you’re gonna cum in your pants the second your dick gets touched.”
You finally chance a look up at his face, lips pressing together as you try to contain your smirk.
And there it is, that fire in his eyes.
You definitely don’t have to worry about him going gentle with you now.
In the blink of an eye, Chan flips the two of you. Your back hits the mattress with a thud, and you barely have time to readjust before he’s got both hands on your hips again. Only this time, he’s lifting your ass up off of the bed, legs in the air, and in one smooth motion, pulls your jeans clean off.
Oh, that was hot.
That was…pretty fucking hot.
And now that your jeans are off, Chan has a clear view of just how much he’s been affecting you.
“Oh, baby,” he croons, sliding one hand up your inner thigh, coming to a rest at the edge of your soaked underwear. “Look at you.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He just laughs, and your breath catches when he leans in. His hand moves away, and you feel his lips replace it, planting a kiss just off to the side of where you need it most.
It’s truly a sight, seeing Chan – shirt off, pants unbuttoned, shoulders tensing as he holds himself up by his forearms – between your legs.
You’re not going to beg this man.
Definitely not.
…But you might find it in you to ask politely.
“Ch-Chan–”
Suddenly, to your horror, there’s a knock at his bedroom door.
Chan jolts up, sitting back on his knees, looking down at you with pure panic.
The same thought runs through both your minds.
Shit. You didn’t lock the door.
Changbin’s voice comes through, muffled. “Hey, dude? You in there?”
Chan launches himself at the door, pressing both hands to it before Changbin can even attempt to open it. “Just a second!”
He turns back to look at you, hair mussed, eyes wide with panic.
You’re pretty sure the same can be said for you.
After a moment of blind panic, Chan has the sense to do up his jeans. You see the way his jaw tightens, eyes squeezing shut for a second when he has to dig his hand into pants to shove his erection down one side. It doesn’t do that much to hide what’s going on – and you feel yourself twitch at the thought of how fucking big Chan seems to be down there – but it’s better than nothing.
With one last futile attempt at fixing his hair, Chan lets out one last deep breath, and cracks open the door. “Yeah?”
You know you’re out of sight in your current position – with how small that gap is in the door, Changbin only has a narrow view of the far wall – but you still tense. Your legs quickly snap together, but you don’t risk trying to reach for your jeans to put them back on.
You hear Changbin speak once again. “Have you seen…oh, well obviously, you have–”
“What?” Chan interrupts, and you fight the urge to face-palm at how panicked he sounds.
“It looks like she’s patched you up,” you hear Changbin say, his voice slow, careful. He’s definitely picked up on something. “Did she say anything about going out? She’s not in her room, and the guys want to make dinner as a big thank you thing.”
It is so like the guys to decide to do something so sweet for you at exactly the wrong time.
“Nope. Not seen her,” Chan lies, forcing a shrug.
There’s a pause. A long pause.
Oh, shit.
“…Do you still have those headphones I lent you on the car ride here?” Changbin asks, sounding ever so innocent.
Chan swallows, and makes the mistake of looking behind him at the desk in the corner of the room. You spot the headphones resting there. “Yeah?”
“Can I grab them?”
“…Uh, don’t worry about it. I-I’ll get them for you now.”
Another pause, and you hear Changbin make one single step towards the door. Chan tenses, and pulls the door closer towards him, blocking even more of the room from sight. This time you do face-palm, as quietly as you can.
You see Chan staring ahead at what you can only assume is a Changbin who is slowly putting the pieces together, and there’s a long moment of silence before Changbin finally speaks. “…You know what? I don’t need them right now. You can just give them back tomorrow.”
Whatever Changbin’s expression is, it’s enough to send a pink flush up Chan’s neck. You hear him retreat back down the hallway, and Chan immediately slams the bedroom door shut, reaching for the lock and turning it. He even tries the handle again, pulling, just to make sure.
And then, finally, he turns to give you the most sheepish of looks.
You stare back.
And then your eyes slide back down to his jeans, which are still looking just as extraordinarily tight as before. Looks like Changbin’s interruption did very little to kill the mood for him.
And honestly, as the panic fades but the adrenaline still lingers – and this new sense of taboo, of getting away with something – you find yourself realising the exact same thing.
Slowly, you open your legs again, keeping your gaze fixed on Chan as his eyes drop to follow your movements.
Your voice is sweet, honeyed, only a little bit teasing.
“Weren’t you trying to do something there?”
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2K notes · View notes
healinghyunjin · 2 months ago
Text
Moonrise
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Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (fem)
Genre: romance, fluff, smut; historical!AU, arranged marriage!AU, strangers-to-lovers, 18+
Word Count: 12.6k (whew!)
Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, outdated sexual norms/attitudes
Author's Note: For the first time ever, I’ve gathered the courage to write and post a fic of my own!! Many many thanks go to @the7thcrow​ for beta reading this for me, giving me awesome feedback, and generally hyping me up about this (I love you Corynn - please check out her awesome works as well!!), as well as @chanluster​ and @fizzydrink698​ for inspiring me with their bomb writing and encouragement while I was drafting this! As a fledgling writer, I’d really appreciate any interactions (please reblog/like if you enjoyed reading this!!) and feedback, positive or negative!! 
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Summary: Seeing your future husband for the first time, you knew immediately, even from afar, that the rumors hadn’t even begun to do him justice. 
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You leaned your head against the window of the carriage, hoping its steady vibration would help you relax. As your view slowly morphed from the flat grasslands of your home into the hilly terrain of the borderlands however, you sighed and turned away, closing your eyes and giving into the thoughts racing through your mind.
In just a matter of a few days, your world had been turned completely upside down.
As the princess of a strong, successful kingdom, you’d only really ever had one function – to serve as a royal bargaining chip – and that role had already been decided for you ages ago. From birth, you had been promised to Hwang Hyunjin, the crown prince of the realm adjoining yours. The wedding itself had been left up to some far-off date in the future, when both you and Hyunjin were of age and your marriage could serve as a politically expedient show of unity and collective strength. You’d never even met the man himself, something that you’d never expected – you’d always thought that you’d have time to meet, court, and slowly come to know him before you actually became his.
However, an unexpected tragedy dashed all of your expectations.
Just a few weeks ago, Hyunjin’s parents, the former king and queen, had been killed in a devastating attack while on tour, thrusting Hyunjin into power all alone at the age of 21. He had written immediately to your parents, asking them if they still intended to honor the betrothal given the circumstances, and, if so, whether it would be possible to have the wedding take place as soon as possible.
Your parents, being the consummate politicians they were, quickly figured out his motives – Hyunjin needed to stabilize his hold on power fast, especially in the midst of such an unprecedented power vacuum, and cementing an alliance with your family would be a great power move. As the connection would only benefit your kingdom as well, your parents had no problems with fully giving in to Hyunjin’s wishes, packing you off in days to face your unknown fate.
A wry voice snapped you out of your reflections. “I can hear your thoughts churning from all the way over here, you know.” You looked up to meet the eyes of your only companion. Chan had been at your side for as long as you could remember, first as a playmate, then as a proxy older brother, and finally as your trusted bodyguard; now, he was the only person from your previous life coming with you to your new one.
“It’s nothing Chan, don’t worry about it.” You returned to the window, taking in the rugged landscape of your new home, your new kingdom.
“It’s okay to be nervous.” Chan’s voice radiated empathy and understanding, things that had been in short order during the rushed few days leading up to your departure.
“All of these changes, uprooting your life and tying yourself to someone else, a stranger at that – that’s a lot for anyone to handle.” He reached across the carriage, placing a warm, friendly hand on your knee. “You’ve done really well holding everything in so far, but it’s really not good to keep all of your thoughts bottled up.”
At his words, the dam broke. “It’s just been a complete whirlwind, Chan. I just go back and forth between being angry and optimistic and resentful and anxious and ugh!” You bury your head in your hands in frustration. “I just don’t know how to feel about anything anymore.”
Scooting closer, Chan smoothed his hand over your head, trying to calm you down. “Take me through everything you’re feeling, hmm? Let’s start with resentment, maybe. Who are you resentful towards? King Hyunjin?”
You shake your head at that. “Not him – my parents. Not that I should have expected anything different though.”
Although he didn’t say anything in response, opting to squeeze your hand instead, you knew Chan agreed with you wholeheartedly on this. While agreeing to Hyunjin’s request and sending you away was one thing, your parents had also decided that, given the security risks of the recent attack, no one other than Chan would be allowed to travel with you to the Hwang castle.
You weren’t particularly surprised that your parents didn’t care about missing your wedding - they’d always been aloof, more occupied with ruling and governing than being loving parents. By this point, you’d fully internalized the idea that you were nothing more than a tool to them. But when you learned that Minho – your older brother, who’d been more of a parent to you than your actual parents ever had – wouldn’t be there to walk you down the aisle, you’d spent the rest of the night crying in his arms, feeling wholly and truly abandoned.
Of course, Minho and Chan, his best friend, had then proceeded to make their displeasure at the situation dramatically obvious. After all of Minho’s attempts at persuasion and threatening failed, he – along with a skeptical, but upset enough Chan – had snuck into the stables at night and broke the axles of every carriage your family owned in a last-ditch attempt to delay your departure. However, your parents were anything if not calculating; knowing that their hotheaded son would try to throw some type of wrench in the proceedings, they’d already asked Hyunjin to send over one of his.
The soothing pressure of Chan’s hand on yours brought you back out of your ruminations. “Well, you know exactly where I stand on that issue,” he dryly quipped, looking at you with a sly glance that made you giggle. “But I have to admit,” he leaned in closer, staring at you intently. “I am really curious about your thoughts on your new husband.”
“Well…I guess a small part of me is a little resentful at him for using me like this, even though I know he’s well within his rights to,” you lean back against the cushions with a sigh. “But, I don’t really blame him. And Chan, to be fully honest,” you turn to gaze directly into his eyes. “I think I feel sorry for him more than anything.”
Chan arched an eyebrow at you as you felt heat rising to your face. “A soft corner for him already? Interesting…” he trailed off, sending an appraising look your way.
That’s what confused you the most. You knew that you should be completely up in arms about this entire situation, ready to spit fire at your husband before even meeting him. However, your anger and resentment were directed almost fully at your parents. When it came to thoughts of your new husband, you were honestly caught more between anxiousness and anticipation – and a hope that this bolt out of the blue might be the solution to your own existential questions.
For, despite all of Minho and Chan’s best efforts, you’d always felt out of place at home. Minho had done his very best to be all of the family that you needed, but, as the crown prince, he had his own set of duties and responsibilities: a purpose, a reason for him to belong. You on the other hand – no one needed you. While you had always been good at keeping yourself occupied by reading and writing and helping around the castle, you’d always felt that you were floating around aimlessly – you had no role or purpose to anchor you.
Maybe that’s why, instead of dreading and resenting this marriage to a stranger, you were eager to finally get a glimpse of the man you were promised to. Maybe that’s why, as you caught your first glimpses of the castle looming over one last hill, you were filled with the sense that you were finally making your way towards your true home.
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The receiving party at the castle might have been small, but it was almost buoyant with excitement and chaos. As soon as your carriage made it past the castle gates and rolled to a stop, you were swarmed by a motley crew of servants, grooms, and musicians, seemingly headed by two young men frantically trying to maintain control. One of the two, whose crescent-shaped eyes and thin lips reminded you of a fox for some reason, reached up to hand you out of the carriage.
“Welcome to your new home, my lady!” he greeted you with an exceptionally blinding grin, bowing over your hand. “My name is Jeongin, that over there,” he pointed over to the other young man, who had just succeeded in shoving through to the carriage, “is Felix, and we’re your new personal pages.” You and Chan looked at each other in surprise – you imagined that Hyunjin must be incredibly short-staffed at the moment, so assigning you two pages seemed almost an excessive act of consideration. “His Majesty should have just wrapped up his council meeting, so we can go find him in the courtyard.”
As Jeongin and Felix led your party deeper into the castle grounds, you felt the butterflies in your stomach kick up into overdrive. Chan, who had fallen into step at your side, leaned over to quietly whisper in your ear. “You know, rumor has it that the King is supposed to be very handsome?” He nudged your shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows at you in an incredibly annoying way. “I’ve even heard that he might be better looking than your brother, though I’m sure Minho would have something to say about that,” he laughed.
You narrowed your eyes at him, furiously whispering back, “And why are you telling me this now, Chan?” He looked back at you with a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Oh, I just wanted to make sure you had fair warning. I’m the one who has to catch you, you know, if you faint away at the sight of your oh so handsome new hus-” You interrupted him with as covert of a jab in the side as you could manage, but, from the smirk Jeongin was attempting to hide in front of you, it looked like Chan had accomplished his mission of embarrassing you. And taking your mind off your nervousness, you mentally noted to yourself, casting an exasperated, but affectionate glance at him as your party finally entered the castle’s main courtyard.
Seeing your future husband for the first time, you knew immediately, even from afar, that the rumors hadn’t even begun to do him justice.
He was tall, corded with lean muscle, and wonderfully slender, broad shoulders balanced out by narrow hips. His long and silky black hair almost brushed his shoulders; you could tell he’d hastily tied the top half up out of his face, giving him an almost rakish air – and giving you the desperate desire to run your fingers through it. As he moved into the light, you saw a sharp, angular face with lush, full lips and hooded, cat-like eyes.
He was beautiful.
On closer inspection, even though he was a stranger to you, the toll that the previous weeks had taken upon Hyunjin was obvious in the smudged hollows beneath his eyes. Your heart went out to this man, who’d lost his family and had the burden of an entire kingdom and its welfare thrust upon him in the span of mere days. What did you have to complain about in comparison?
You could feel the last of your residual resentment fading away, getting replaced by a deep sense of compassion – as well as a healthy dose of curiosity. What would this man, your future husband, truly be like?
While you and your welcome party slowly wound your way through the courtyard, Felix ran ahead to inform Hyunjin that you had arrived. As Felix gestured back towards your group, you saw Hyunjin visibly stiffen, losing his relaxed demeanor. As you watched him look around for you, you came to a surprising realization – Hyunjin was nervous to see you. Everything about his body language suggested that he was bracing for an unpleasant, cold interaction with his hastily acquired, unwilling bride. Smiling to yourself, you resolved to give him a pleasant surprise.
Once the two of you were in front of each other, Jeongin stepped in, giving you his arm to formally present you to his King. Giving Hyunjin the warmest smile you could muster up, you stepped forward into a deep curtsy. “My lord.” Peering up through your eyelashes, you saw a look of surprise flit across his face, before his features relaxed into the slightest hint of a smile. He gently took your hand in his larger, warm one, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it as you arose. “The pleasure is all mine, my lady.”
Your skin burned where his lips had brushed, setting butterflies aflight in your belly as you looked up into his eyes. While Minho had always tsked at your romantic streak, even you had always thought that love at first sight was incredibly cliché and overwrought. The sensations running through you at the feeling of your hand in Hyunjin’s, however – at the subtle curve of your future husband’s lips and the magnetic depths of his eyes – told you something different.
You might already be falling for your King.
You startled out of your reverie as Hyunjin softly cleared his throat, straightening up from where he was bent over your hand. Had he caught you dazing out over him? As you watched him carefully, it didn’t seem like he had noted anything out of the ordinary - but, to your bad luck, someone else certainly had.
One of Hyunjin’s companions, another tall, lanky man, was eying you with no little amusement, a teasing smile on his face as he looked back and forth between you and Hyunjin.
“I hope your journey wasn’t too uncomfortable, my lady?” Your eyes snapped back to Hyunjin, addressing you with a soft smile, a look of guarded hope hovering in his eyes.
“It was quite pleasant, my lord, especially due to your assistance.” You inwardly smiled at the sound of Chan awkwardly shuffling behind you.
Withdrawing your arm from Jeongin’s, you stepped up to take Hyunjin’s instead. For just a second, imperceptible to anyone else but you, Hyunjin tensed, eyes widening as he looked down at you in surprise. At your answering grin though, at the excitement and energy in your eyes, he relaxed, guiding you to his side as he turned to introduce you to his companions.
From first impressions, Hyunjin’s inner circle seemed to be tight-knit and well-rounded. The perceptive man from before was Seungmin, and you weren’t surprised to learn that he was Hyunjin’s chief advisor. Jisung made you laugh with an overly exaggerated bow and effusive words of welcome; Hyunjin’s look of exasperated amusement at his antics clued you into their dynamic pretty quickly. From his armor and stocky build, you’d already figured that Changbin was Hyunjin’s personal bodyguard. Chan had gravitated to be closer to him, and you were just glad that Chan could have someone to lean on while he was there for you.
To be honest, however, you couldn’t say that you were fully focused on the formalities taking place. While you did your best to be attentive, you couldn’t keep your eyes from wandering over again and again to your fiancé. Hyunjin had one of the most captivating, expressive faces you’d seen, and you were mesmerized.
Of course, it seemed Hyunjin was in a similar boat. You felt his gaze flitting to you throughout the conversation, studying you with a mix of curiosity and – if you weren’t mistaken – longing.
Before you knew it, you were being escorted away from your fiancé, who – if you weren’t just imagining it – seemed to be letting you go with quite a bit of reluctance. Due to the whirlwind nature of events in these past weeks, Hyunjin had an official state dinner to attend this evening, and, as you were not yet married, it would be improper for you to attend alongside him. Therefore, Hyunjin had dispatched Felix and Jeongin to show you to the former queen’s suite, where you could refresh yourself and relax in privacy before the wedding the next day.
Before you could make it too far, however, your little party pulled up short as you heard a shout behind you. Over your shoulder, you saw Hyunjin calling after you, catching up quickly with his long strides.
Running his fingers through his increasingly messy hair, he leaned down, lips almost grazing your ear, to softly whisper to you.
“If it is alright with you, my lady,” he looked at you with what seemed to be guarded hope in his eyes, “I would like to visit you tonight after dinner.”
His proximity, the feeling of his breath dancing over your face, sent a tingle down your spine. While your heart did a little somersault at the thought of seeing him again so soon, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make a little fun of him first.
“My lord – are you sure that…that kind of a visit would be proper? Given that we’re not married yet and all…” you trailed off as a dramatic look of horror dawned on Hyunjin’s face. You had to hold back a giggle as his eyes widened almost to comic proportions.
“NO, no, that’s not what I meant at all, no!” You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he looked. “I only meant, uh, that I just wanted a chance to talk to you more privately before the wedding tomorrow – with chaperones present, of course,” he hastily added.
You certainly weren’t going to turn him down – you were eager to get to know Hyunjin more, and you were very intrigued as to what he wanted to say to you. The two of you agreed that he would come up to your room after dinner with Changbin in tow; you would have Chan around also for propriety’s sake.
You watched Hyunjin stroll back, steps more confident than before, to his laughing friends, looking on with a fond smile as they teasingly clapped him on the back. As you turned to head towards your rooms, the butterflies were out in full force.
You were really, really looking forward to seeing Hyunjin again.
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As the night wore on, your impatience only grew. Chan chuckled to himself as he watched you pace back and forth across the floor.
“Princess, you’re just going to wear holes in the carpet. You know that these state dinners drag on for hours and hours.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure His Majesty will be here soon.”
You knew deep down Chan was, as usual, perfectly right, but the anticipation and your nerves were messing with you.
Just as you were, against all of Chan’s counseling, about to give up hope, you heard a soft tap at the door. It opened just a crack, and warmth spread through you as the man you’d been eagerly waiting for peeked his head around the edge.
“I’m really sorry for being so late, my lady.” You could hear the sincerity in Hyunjin’s tired voice. “Would you still have a few minutes to talk? It’s perfectly fine if you want to rest up instead.”
“Not at all, my lord – please come in!” You tried to keep the excitement out of your voice as much as you could, but it seemed you hadn’t quite succeeded, judging by the grin on Chan’s face as he ushered Hyunjin and Changbin into the room.
As the two bodyguards stood in the corner of your room, pretending to make idle conversation, Hyunjin sat on the settee at the base of the bed. You were left no choice but to take the chair across from him, seating you above him, as if you were a queen and he a mere supplicant.
Hyunjin took a deep breath before slowly lifting his face to yours.
“From the day I sent that letter to your family until now, I’ve been anxious and unhappy with my decision.”
Your heart dropped.
Hyunjin took one look at the stricken expression on your face and realized he’d messed up.
“No, no, it’s not what you’re thinking, Princess! Ugh, I’ve been making a mess of this all day today, I’m really sorry.” He looked so apologetic that you couldn’t help but let him go on.
“I just think that – rushing our wedding like this, without giving you the chance to learn to trust me and be with me, and forcing you to uproot yourself with barely any warning – it was wrong. I was selfish, and I was weak. I should have sorted this out on my own and only brought you here when this kingdom – and I – could truly be your home. Instead, I’ve brought you to a land in chaos and disarray to live with a stranger.”
The words tumbled out of him in a rush; he’d clearly been needing to get it all off his chest, so you just patiently listened.
“I acted impulsively. I was exhausted, I was lonely beyond anything I’ve ever known in my life, and the only answer I could think of was to have you at my side. It would help me, it would politically benefit the country, and I’m immensely regretful to say that, in the moment, I didn’t think of anything else.” While his gaze had gradually dropped to his lap, he snapped his head back up to look at your face, a self-mocking, twisted half-smile on his lips. “I’ve spent most of my adult life promising to myself that, when the day arrived, I would be a good husband, I would make sure that you’re wanting for nothing – but when it came to it, I put myself first.”
“I really hope you can forgive me for my weakness, my lady – and that you don’t think too little of me for it.”
His sincerity and sadness, coupled with the pure exhaustion radiating from his body, made your heart melt. Forgetting that you weren’t alone, you found yourself reaching out to take him into your arms. Luckily, you caught yourself before Hyunjin noticed – but not before you made accidental eye contact with Chan and Changbin, who both abruptly snapped their heads away and pretended to study the walls. Swallowing a smile, you turned back to Hyunjin.
“My lord, please – don’t apologize. While I had hoped that we might be able to get to know each other before we got married, I’ve always known that you were going to be my husband – and that is something that I’ve always been excited about. I’m just glad I can be here for you now at least, so you have someone to help you shoulder your burdens…” While you hoped your words would be comforting, maybe they came across as too formal or rehearsed in the face of how raw he had been; Hyunjin still looked despondent. You had to show him how much you meant what you said.
Reaching forward impulsively, you grabbed one of his hands and clasped it in both of yours, startling Hyunjin with your sudden touch. “I – I hope our marriage can be a true partnership, my lord. I want to be a good wife to you. I want you to be able to trust me, to rely on me, to find and take comfort in me – to love me.” Your voice wobbled as you came to the end.
Sitting as he was, almost at your feet, Hyunjin’s eyes almost seemed to glow up at you, shining with emotion in the mellow candlelight.
Slowly, almost reverently, he folded your hands into his much larger ones, bringing them both to his lips.
“My queen…I don’t think you know exactly how much I want all of those things as well.” He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your right hand, and then your left. “I don’t think you realize exactly how much I want you.”
You softly gasped, both at the intensity of his words and at the sensation of his fingertips and plush lips on your hands. Hyunjin’s gaze darkened for a split second before he abruptly stood up to his full height, pulling you up with him. Then, to your utter surprise, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a warm, heartfelt hug. You froze for just a second, but recovered before he could pull away, shyly cuddling back into him. His body slackened under your touch, his embrace turning less agitated and more carefree. You could hear his heart beating a mile a second in his chest though, and you smiled to yourself as you realized that the proximity was clearly affecting him just as much as it was affecting you.
At the sound of two throats simultaneously, violently clearing themselves however, the two of you jumped apart – lost in your own little world, you’d both totally forgotten about the presence of your “chaperones.” You looked up at Hyunjin to find that his ears were absolutely on fire as he looked down at you, an adorably sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
“I’m sorry, love – I couldn’t help myself.” You knew it was just an innocent pet name, but the word still made your heart flutter a bit. Collecting himself again, Hyunjin did his best to give you an elegant nod, bringing your hand to his lips again for a tender kiss before beating a hasty retreat out of your room.
As a beaming Changbin went after him, you turned to find Chan leaning against the wall with a smug, knowing smirk plastered across his face. He coolly observed you as you tried to surreptitiously calm down, the feeling of Hyunjin’s lean, toned body pressed up against you still overpowering your senses.
“What?” you eyed him suspiciously, not liking the look on his face.
“Oh, nothing really,” he drawled nonchalantly, pushing himself off the wall. “Seemed like there were quite a few sparks flying between you and His Grace just now.”
You flushed, feeling your cheeks heat up yet again at the – honestly astute – observation and asked indignantly, “What in God’s name do you mean by that, Bang Chan?”
“I think you know exactly what I mean, Princess.” He just shook his head at you, turning around at the door for one final quip.
“I just feel sorry for whoever has guard duty outside your chambers tomorrow evening.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at you, narrowly slamming the door behind him before your pillow could make contact with his laughing face.
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When you woke up the next morning, you were pleasantly surprised to feel a warm hum of anticipation thrilling through you, rather than the gut-wrenching twist of anxiety you had expected. Before thoughts of your husband-to-be’s luminous eyes and plush lips – and the memory of his body pressed up against yours – made you a little too warm, you scrambled out of bed, eager to face your wedding day.
Given the rushed, frantic nature of your wedding planning, you and your maids from home had had to be inventive to come up with a suitable wedding dress. Luckily, a few of them were wonders with the needle, and you all had managed to work together to modify your mother’s old wedding dress into something suitable for you. The final product – with its modern, fitted gold lace bodice, full skirt, and gold curlicues of trim and detailing – had taken your breath away.
As your new, unfamiliar maids helped you into your gown now, however, the dress just served as a reminder of everything you had lost and your newfound loneliness. You didn’t even have any one to walk you down the aisle. While you personally would have loved to have Chan do it, he wasn’t a knight yet; while that would be something you personally rectified as soon as you were crowned queen, it would be improper for him to be your escort in the meantime.
The sounds of thumping and raised voices right outside the door startled you out of your somber thoughts. Then came a sharp knock, followed by a muffled voice shouting to ask if you were decent.
One of your astonished maids rushed to the door, only opening it a crack to try and see who was stirring up all this ruckus, but a familiar, overly confident voice rang through, telling her to open the door and step aside. Minho?
You were absolutely, completely flabbergasted to see your brother stride through the doorway, Chan right behind him with a blinding smile on his face. You could tell Minho had ridden hard, his hair mussed and legs splashed with mud, but of course, your brother being himself, he looked no worse for wear. With a sob, you broke away from your maids to positively sprint into Minho’s open arms, snatching him up in a warm hug. Cupping your face in his hands, he gently wiped away a stray tear that was sneaking its way down your face. “Hey hey sis, don’t cry – you’ll ruin your makeup, and then Hyunjin’ll realize the mistake he’s makin-oof!” Laughing, you shut him up with a well-placed jab in the rib.
“Minho, how on Earth did you make it here?” You knew your parents had pretty much put him under house arrest after the stunt he’d pulled, and they were notoriously cutthroat when it came to enforcing discipline. “You didn’t stage a coup or something, did you??”
“As much as I would have loved to, nope. I’m here with the full blessings of our parents,” Minho drawled with a shit-eating grin, “thanks to some quick thinking on your husband’s part.”
You dropped your arms from around him, stepping back in surprise. “What?” you asked incredulously – Hyunjin had stepped in? “What did he do?”
“He somehow found out that our parents had banned me from coming to the wedding – seems like our messenger was very truthful about exactly why we needed one of his carriages for you.” You rolled your eyes as he turned to high-five Chan.
“So, he sent word to – ahem – ‘formally request the presence of his future brother-in-law the Crown Prince to discuss and solidify the terms of alliance between our two countries,’” Minho recited with a twinkle in his eye, “which basically forced our parents to let me come to the wedding.”
While you were still processing what he was telling you, Minho took a step back to look at you in all your finery. “Looks like my baby sister’s all grown up…you look beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling you in for another warm hug.
Afterwards, he quickly left – swearing up and down that he just had a speck of dirt in his eye, he was definitely not crying, pfft – to change and get ready for the ceremony. As you sat down again to let your maids fix the damage from your tears, the only thoughts on your mind were of your husband.
There was absolutely no reason for Hyunjin to go out of his way to help you and Minho out, but he had done so, purely out of the goodness of his heart – sparing consideration for you and your needs even whilst reeling from the aftermath of his own personal tragedy.
He had already shown himself to be sensitive, thoughtful, romantic…everything you’d ever dreamt about in a husband – and he would be yours in a matter of hours.
You couldn’t wait.
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For the most part, Hyunjin liked to think of himself as a confident person. Raised to be a king from the moment he was born, he had had the importance of poise, elegance – always having a cool, collected façade – beat into him from before he could even speak.
There was something about you, however, that tore all that training away.
Now, as he stood by the altar, the eyes of the relatively few attendees all trained on their young king, it was all he could do to keep a steady, neutral expression.
Hyunjin was nervous. Excited, giddy even – but still nervous.
From the moment he had set eyes on you, you had captivated him. In the days leading up to your arrival, Hyunjin had fully prepared himself for all the worst possible outcomes – outright rejection, sullen dismissal, cold hatred – and he would have deserved all of it. Instead, you’d shown up all eager and smiley, beaming up at him with such curiosity and warmth shining through in your eyes.
He fell hard, and he fell fast.
When he had held you to him last night, you looking absolutely gorgeous in the dimmed lighting as you shyly settled into his arms, it had taken everything he had to not just throw you onto the bed behind you and show you just how deeply he cared for you. But – he wanted to make sure that you knew that his feelings weren’t just founded purely off physical attraction or mere lust.
Taking a deep breath in an attempt to relax, Hyunjin looked around him, taking in the ancient castle shrine where the wedding would be taking place. While all the royal weddings in recent memory had taken place in the grand hall, with hundreds of distinguished guests from dozens of realms, the rushed, pressing nature of this ceremony meant it needed to be much smaller and private.
Honestly, Hyunjin didn’t mind the change. There was something poetic and romantic about the two of you saying your vows at the same altar that his ancestors had for centuries, before pomp and ostentatiousness had forced a change – in this hallowed, sacred space that had borne the footsteps and heard the prayers of hundreds, thousands of people before him. He hoped that, being in such a holy space, his own prayers would be answered too.
Hyunjin didn’t know how he managed to get so lucky, but he’d found someone who didn’t want to just be his queen in name; he’d found someone who wanted to be his true partner, his soulmate. So, taking a moment for himself, he closed his eyes and softly, fervently whispered a prayer to the gods above, that he would be a lover, a husband worthy of you.
Well, Seungmin had always said that Hyunjin was too sentimental for his own good.
Before Hyunjin’s thoughts could go around in circles for much longer, he heard bustling from the entryway outside the shrine. The heavy, decorated doors were slowly pushed open, and Jeongin strode in, announcing, “Her Highness, the Princess…” The sound of his voice faded away into nothingness, however, as Hyunjin set eyes on you – his beautiful bride.
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If you had thought Hyunjin was gorgeous before, he now looked ethereal. He had left his hair down to frame his face, giving him a more elegant look, while his head was crowned with a simple gold circlet. He was wearing an opulent red velvet doublet, cut to emphasize his narrow waist and wider shoulders and trimmed with gold accents that complemented your own dress, while tight fitting leather pants left almost nothing about his toned legs to the imagination.
You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, and it seemed like he was in the same boat as you. From the moment you’d set foot into the shrine, demurely smiling on Minho’s arm, Hyunjin’s gaze had been rivetted to you, his mouth lightly slack as he watched you sedately walk down the aisle, glowing in the soft light of the sconces.
A few paces before the altar, Minho gave your hand a warm squeeze before disentangling his fingers from yours, giving Hyunjin a nod before heading to his place by Seungmin. You finished the rest of the walk on your own before finally reaching Hyunjin at the altar, extending your hand to him yourself. While you heard some murmuring behind you, you wanted to get the point across – you were giving yourself in marriage to him. At the rather unorthodox move, Hyunjin let out a quiet, mirthful laugh, his eyes folding up into twinkling crescents, before taking your outstretched hand in his and bringing you to his side.
“You look absolutely beautiful, my lady,” Hyunjin whispered into your ear. A soft tingling ran down your spine as he placed his other hand on your lower back, guiding the two of you to kneel side-by-side in front of the priest.
Taking advantage of the momentary lull, you leaned in closer to Hyunjin, keeping your voice soft so only the two of you could hear. “My lord, about Minho…I can’t thank you enough for-”
Hyunjin cut you off with a gentle squeeze. “Don’t,” he shook his head as subtly as he could, casting a sidelong glance at you with a soft smile. “I just wanted you to have someone you loved here with you on your wedding day.”
You were prevented from verbally responding by the priest, loudly announcing the beginning of the official wedding rites, so you contented yourself with squeezing Hyunjin’s hand back, watching happily as a shy smile flitted across his face in response.
The rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur; the warmth of Hyunjin’s side pressed against you and the feeling of his fingers entwined with you overpowered any conscious thoughts you could have. Above you, the priest intoned the ancient words binding Hyunjin and you together, uniting your very souls as one – as husband and wife, king and queen.
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Once the formalities came to an end, the two of you headed the procession to the banquet hall, where a lavish feast had been prepared in honor of the royal newlyweds. As you took your seat officially at his left side, a sense of rightness immediately settled into your bones.
Your maids were gathered at the edge of the dais, waiting to attend on you if you needed them. When your eyes met those of your head maid, she arched an eyebrow at you, pointing between you and your husband and giving you a double thumbs up of approval before dissolving into laughter.
Your young pages were off to the side of the hall, laughing over something with Chan and your husband’s trio of friends. While he was doing his best to be sneaky about it, you could see Chan casting lingering glances at another one of your maids, a gorgeous girl with long, fiery orange hair. You barely managed to keep a smirk off your face, delighted to finally have some dirt on your too-smug-for-his-own-good bodyguard. Meanwhile, Jisung especially seemed to have gotten into his cups a bit already, sending you a saucy wink when he saw you glancing their way.
Quietly giggling to yourself, you finally let your eyes drift over to your handsome new husband; as he was engrossed in a conversation with Minho on his right, you were able to admire his side profile, rendered almost angelic in the setting sunlight. He threw his head back in a joyful laugh, probably at some dry joke of your brother’s, and you realized, to your surprise, that this was the first time you’d ever seen Hyunjin laughing so brightly. His laugh took over his whole face, his eyes turning into crescents and dimples appearing in full force.
Your staring was so blatant at this point that Hyunjin couldn’t help but pick up on it, turning to you with a smile and quirked eyebrow. “Do I have something on my face, dearest wife?” He leaned his head onto his hand, teasing you with a twinkle in his eye. Now that you were seeing him so casual and relaxed for the first time, his beauty absolutely took your breath away.
“Not at all, my lord,” you beamed up at him, deciding to own up to what you were actually doing. “I was just thinking about how this is the happiest I’ve seen you so far…and how you look especially h-handsome,” you successfully bit the word out despite the amused smirk on Hyunjin’s face.
“I was also thinking, my lord, that… I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time too,” looking steadily up into his eyes so he could sense your sincerity.
“It feels so right to be here with you, at your side.”
Hyunjin was clearly taken aback by your words, surprised by your honesty. But he recovered quickly, the broadest, most genuine smile yet creeping across his face as he gazed down at you. Picking your hand up from the table, he tightly interlaced your fingers with his, bringing your hand to his lips for a slow kiss: a very public display of affection that had the onlookers tittering in delight.
“You won’t believe how thankful I am, how lucky I know I am to have you as my wife, my lady.”
As the two of you lost yourselves in each other’s eyes, soft smiles on your faces, it seemed to everyone around you that the clouds, the shadows hanging over their kingdom, were finally starting to scatter.
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A few hours later however, as your maids prepared you for your marital bed, you’d lost your smile. Unwanted fear and anxiety started creeping back into you at the reality of the consummation taking place tonight. While your mother had gladly left most of her maternal responsibilities to your nanny and the maids, she’d still found it her duty to give you “the talk” before you left home. Of course, you knew the mechanics of what the act entailed, and, in your own innocent explorations of your body, you’d found certain places and spots that, if touched right, sent shivers running all through you.
However, your mother, in her characteristic cold and detached manner, had set you straight quickly. Sexual relations were for the man’s pleasure, and for his only – a woman who enjoyed such activities was loose and immoral. Your first time would be bloody and painful, and her advice for subsequent sessions was just to “lie back and think of your nation” – and the faster you fulfilled your responsibility of being a broodmare, the more quickly you could leave such activities to the king’s mistresses instead.
From everything you had seen of him so far, you had no reason to expect that Hyunjin would do anything to hurt or misuse you. Even though you’d only known him for a day at this point, you were confident that you could trust him to treat you well, and Chan’s teasing certainly seemed to suggest that you had nothing to fear from any of this. At the same time though, they were men – wouldn’t your mother know better about what it would be like for you?
Panicked, anxious thoughts started swirling through your head, and as your maids guided you to the royal suite, giggling at your side, you felt the warm giddiness from earlier recede, replaced by nauseating worry.
Your thoughts continued going around in circles, long after you were seated on the vast bed, alone after the maids shut you into the cavernous chamber. While the opulence and décor might have engaged you at another time, now they just added to your nervousness, emphasizing what exactly would be taking place in this room tonight. After what seemed like an endless wait, you finally heard a soft knock at the door – your husband had arrived.
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Ever since you had shyly excused yourself from the banquet, Hyunjin had been not-so-patiently waiting for enough time to pass for him to escape into your arms. The rest of his circle, which had apparently readily welcomed Chan, had come up to the head table to join him and Minho. While Hyunjin had thoroughly enjoyed the banter and camaraderie for the first hour or so, he soon started to get impatient, restlessly drumming his fingers on the table, his thoughts fixated on you, his beautiful bride, waiting for him upstairs.
As always, Seungmin was the first to notice Hyunjin’s inattentiveness, leaning back in his chair with a knowing smile on his face. “Gentlemen, gentlemen - it seems like His Majesty isn’t fully satisfied by our company tonight,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow at Hyunjin. The ensuing snickering snapped Hyunjin out of his trance, leading him to flush and narrow his eyes at Seungmin. Before he could respond with a sufficiently sharp comment of his own, Hyunjin heard Minho sigh heavily on his right.
“This is incredibly awkward, especially for me of all people, so I’m only going to say this once.” Minho glanced up at Hyunjin with an arch look. “I think we all know where you actually want to be right now, so just put yourself out of your misery and go.”
Hyunjin didn’t need to be told twice. Rising to his feet with as much tattered dignity as he could still muster up, he swiftly said his goodbyes to his amused friends and escaped the hall, briskly walking back to his chambers. He stopped outside for a brief second, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He knocked softly on the door, trying not to startle you, and slowly entered the room.
From the moment Hyunjin had first set eyes on you, he’d thought you were beautiful. Now, however, with you arrayed in a sheer white robe and what didn’t seem like much underneath, your hair loosely tumbling over your shoulders and gleaming in the soft moonlight, he realized that you were so much more than could be summed up by one measly word. You were his queen, his goddess, and all he wanted to do was worship you and pleasure you as you deserved.
However, as he came closer, Hyunjin quickly realized that something was wrong. You were perched rigidly at the very edge of the bed, with your hands clasped tightly in your palms. He mentally cursed himself for thirsting over your appearance, as he could now tell that you were uncomfortable with how revealing your clothes were; you’d clearly tugged the robe around you to try and cover as much skin as possible. Even as he stopped, right in front of you, you kept your gaze on your lap, refusing to look up at him at all – something Hyunjin already knew was incredibly uncharacteristic of you.
Hyunjin cautiously came up to the bed, leaving a good amount of space between the two of you as he sat down.
“My lord,” you addressed him quietly. “I hope you enjoyed the rest of the feast.” Your eyes remained downcast, not meeting his own.
Hyunjin’s heart dropped as he realized that this is the only conversation the two of you have had where you hadn’t been looking straight at him, your eyes and expressions openly displaying your thoughts and emotions for him. Your body language was radically different from just a few hours ago; you were worried and scared and displeased – because of him and what the night ahead held.
How could he show you that you had absolutely nothing to fear from him? That he would give you the moon itself if it meant you would welcome him into your heart?
Making sure to not startle you with his movements, Hyunjin gracefully dropped to the ground in front of you, going down on one knee. Looking up into your surprised face, he extended his hand to you, giving you the freedom to take it or leave it as you please.
With confusion swirling in your eyes, you slowly lifted your hand from where it was tightly clasped in your lap and placed it into your husband’s waiting hand. As always, he tenderly lifted it to his lips, greeting you with the soft kiss that you had come to crave. This time however, he didn’t let go of it afterwards.
“I just have something to say, and then we will both decide where things can go from there, okay?” He slid his other hand on top of yours, wrapping your hand up, mirroring your own actions of the previous night.
“Nothing has to happen tonight, love. If you want me to sleep elsewhere until you’re comfortable, I will do that. If you just want to lay in bed together and talk to each other, we can do that. And if you do want to, uh, engage in more intimate activities…” his ears flared red yet again; you found his awkwardness refreshingly adorable – and comforting. “We can certainly do that too.”
He lifted a gentle hand to your face, brushing an unruly lock of hair behind your ear before trailing his fingers down to softly cup your chin. “But the most important thing is – we are not going to do anything that you don’t want to do, okay? Just let me know how you’re doing and what you’re feeling, and we’ll go from there.” He finished with an encouraging smile, his gaze so open and warm that you couldn’t help but trust him with your true thoughts.
“There – to be fully honest, my lord, there is a pretty big part of me that…wants to go further and…get more intimate with you.” You tried to drop your eyes to your lap, feeling slightly embarrassed, but Hyunjin’s hand was still there under your chin, gently tilting your head back up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. Heat followed his fingertips as they tenderly caressed your jaw, only giving you more proof that giving yourself to him would be a pleasurable experience. But…
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to say what you needed to say. “My mother told me that our first night – and honestly, every time after as well – would just be humiliating and painful for me; that it is my duty to bear it quietly as a wife; and that it would be wanton and immoral of me to get any pleasure from it.”
As you were speaking, Hyunjin’s thumb had continued steadily rubbing slow circles into the back of your hand, but his face had stiffened, mouth hardening and eyebrows furrowing.
“I mean, it doesn’t seem like she’s completely right, from what I’ve heard about it from other people – and from everything I’ve felt when I’m around you…” your breath hitched as Hyunjin’s head snapped up, eyes darkening just the littlest bit at your admission.
“But I’m not sure. I know I’ve just been sitting here and psyching myself out about it, but I just feel really nervous…and a little scared.” You looked down at your lap in shame, disappointed in yourself for not being able to just put up a brave front, for having to admit to your weakness in front of your new husband.
However, Hyunjin didn’t pull away.
“Is it…is it okay if I come closer?” You quickly nodded, and Hyunjin came up to come sit next to you on the bed. Slowly, giving you all the time in the world to pull away or refuse, he slid his arm around your waist, allowing you to lean in against his chest – which, after a moment’s hesitation, you willingly, gratefully did. You buried your head into his chest as he calmly, patiently held you, rubbing his hand soothingly over your back.
“Angel…” At the sound of Hyunjin’s voice, you pulled back to find him gazing down at you, concern and affection shining in his eyes. “It’s okay. Everything that you’re feeling – it’s totally, completely okay.”
“Unfortunately, your mother wasn’t not wrong. If I were selfish, if I were to just chase my own satisfaction – it’s true that your first time would probably be painful and unpleasant. But…” he took your hands in his, turning you to face him directly.
“Tonight wouldn’t be about my pleasure. Tonight would be about you and what you want. If you would like – and if you trust me to do so…” Hyunjin’s eyes burned into yours with such passion that you could feel your heart starting to beat faster and faster.
“I can show you what it’s like when a man makes love to his woman – but only when you’re ready.”
He gave you a second to gather your thoughts, waiting patiently while never once changing the pace of his hand on your back.
But – as you looked back up at him – at your beautiful, soft-hearted, passionate husband, who you could already tell cherished you deeply, who looked at you as if his whole world was in front of his eyes – you knew that the answer was obvious.
“I – I want you. I want you to.”
“Gladly,” Hyunjin murmured, his fingers slowly sliding up to caress your cheek, the heat in his gaze making your heart nearly pound out of your chest. “My love.”
You felt his breath softly tickling your face and then – your eyes fluttered shut as you felt his soft lips on yours: nibbling, sucking, teasing, tongue darting out to taste you. Your hands slid up his arms to his shoulders before lacing around his neck, pulling him down more firmly into the kiss. Hyunjin groaned against your mouth, slipping his hand from your cheek to your neck – the gentle pressure sending unexpected waves of heat down your body – and coaxing your lips open under his.
His fingers danced across your shoulder, creeping along the lace edge of your robe. Giving your lips one final nip, Hyunjin hotly whispered into your ear. “Can this come off, angel?”
A little too embarrassed to look him in the eye, you shyly nodded your assent, twisting your fingers nervously through the hair at the nape of his neck. At the feeling of his fingers under your chin, however, you stopped fidgeting.
Hyunjin tilted your head up to meet his eyes, their lusty haze now pierced through with seriousness. “For the rest of the night, love, when I ask you if something I’m doing is okay, I want you to look at me in the eyes and tell me with your words, okay?” He pressed a gentle, reassuring kiss to your cheek. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I accidentally pushed you too far or hurt you.”
“Yes, I-I understand.” You sat up straight in his arms before slipping out of his grasp, trying to command confidence as you stood in front of him. Reaching out for his hands, you brought them to the tie of your robe.
“You can take it off.” Giving your hands a soft squeeze, Hyunjin smoothly tugged you closer, placing you in the space between his legs before bending his head to work at the knot. You couldn’t resist threading your fingers through his luxurious hair, finally getting the opportunity to feel its silkiness yourself.
With an affectionate laugh, Hyunjin glanced up at you, almost done with his struggles with the tie.
“You really like my hair, don’t you?”
You nodded with a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah…I’ve been wanting to do this since I first saw you.”
“Well,” he chuckled, giving you a casual, flirtatious wink before going back to his task, “In that case, I give you permission to do whatever you like with it, whenever you’d like.”
“Aha!” Hyunjin had finally managed to undo the knot, now holding the robe together with just his hands. Looking up at you one last time for approval, he gently pushed the silky material off your shoulders.
As it pooled at your feet, you couldn’t help but flush as Hyunjin slowly took you in, the ardor reflected in his eyes growing stronger by the second. The chemise you were now left in was a sheer, skimpy, almost see-through little thing, probably revealing more than it actually hid.
Your initial embarrassment, however, slowly started giving way to boldness - the hunger, the fascination in Hyunjin’s eyes making you feel more powerful than anything.
It was you who made this man – your husband, your King – look so desperate with lust.
“Am I to your satisfaction, my lord?” you coyly asked, stepping even closer to him.
“Obviously, you are.” His voice sounded strained, like he was determinedly holding himself back. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Before you could respond, Hyunjin tugged you into his lap, somehow still having the presence of mind to do so loosely, giving you the ability to pull away if you wanted. Of course, there was no way you were backing off at this point, and when Hyunjin crashed his lips back onto yours, you responded with everything you had in kind.
You did your best to follow Hyunjin’s lead – of where to tongue, of where to nip – but you were slowly getting lost to the sensations yourself. To retain some grip on reality as his kisses became deeper and hungrier, your hands automatically sought out his hair again, fisting at the sleek locks.
Acting purely on impulse, losing yourself to the feeling of him ravaging your mouth and the sensations he was creating in your body, you none-too-gently tugged at his hair.
You expected Hyunjin to yelp in pain, to pull back in shock – you did not expect him to let out a passionate moan.
Suddenly, everything changed. One toned arm coiled around your waist, dragging you firmly up his legs, while the other slid up around your back, fingers tangling into your hair.
As you broke the kiss to let out a soft, drawn-out moan, Hyunjin seized the opportunity to draw your head back, exposing the soft column of your throat to his hungry gaze. His lips swept down from the outline of your jaw, leaving tender love bites over every inch of exposed skin on your neck, your shoulders, your chest.
All of your concerns, your anxieties – everything was forgotten at the feeling of his hot, wet mouth on your body, at the sensation of his lean, muscled legs underneath you. As your blood grew hotter and hotter at his ministrations, your hips instinctively started undulating against his, grinding down in desperate attempts to find…something, anything to satisfy the ache slowly awakening in your core.
When your hips caught and rubbed up against a hard ridge, drawing a low, dark moan past Hyunjin’s lips, you knew you’d found your prize.
Before you could take advantage of it, however, Hyunjin pulled away, wrenching a petulant, sulky whine out of you. Hyunjin softly chuckled, clearly amused – and turned on – by just how much you wanted him.
“Patience, angel,” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead as he gathered you in his arms, laying you down on the pillows before covering your body with his, drowning you in heat and sensation. “We have all the time in the world to get to that – so let me have my fun first.”
Lifting himself up onto his forearms, his hands delicately cupped your face before he kissed you again, deeper and slower this time, weighted with the promise of what he would be doing to you next.
“Can I keep going, love? It’s perfectly, totally fine if the answer is no.”
The huskiness of his voice, the feeling of his lips on your body – you couldn’t get enough already, and you certainly weren’t about to stop him.
“Yes, please.”
Smiling at your eagerness, Hyunjin gave you one final kiss before rolling to his side, freeing up one arm to begin a slow descent down your body. Caressing your ruined, marked-up throat, he ran his fingers over the dangerously thin fabric of your chemise down your collarbones to the swell of your breasts. Cupping and palming your left breast in his large hand, he teased your nipple with his thumb, lips quirking into a satisfied smile at your sharp intake of breath. Watching as it pebbled under his continued attentions, Hyunjin leaned up to nibble at your earlobe. “You like that?”
You managed to squeak out an affirmatory “Yes, my lord,” but, to your surprise – and disappointment – Hyunjin’s fingers stilled from their movements.
He gave you a stern glance. “When I’m pleasuring you, sweetheart, I want you to say my name, not my title.”
“But – that’s not proper, I shouldn–”
“I don’t care about propriety,” Hyunjin cut you off heatedly, his gaze burning into you. “You’re my wife, my other half – my lover. I want to hear my name on your lips.” You were still a little hesitant, so Hyunjin went in for the kill.
“I’m not touching you again until you say it.”
And there was no way you could have that.
“H-Hyunjin, please – keep going.”
“Good girl.”
You gasped as Hyunjin suddenly dipped his head down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth with a violent suck.
Through the sheerness of your chemise, you could feel everything – the lush, wet heat of his tongue, the devastating pressure of his mouth. You almost didn’t even register the movement of his hand to your other breast, roughly working it while his mouth paid court to the other.
He hadn’t even taken your clothes off completely, but you could already tell that you were losing yourself to the pleasure Hyunjin was giving you. You leaned into the hand still cupping your face, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of his thumb slowly stroking your cheek, but it seemed like nothing could stop the wetness pooling between your thighs.
You completely gave up hope when he started dancing his fingertips from your chest to the softness of your belly, moving lower and lower until he reached your thighs, fingering the hem of your chemise.
“May I take this off, love?”
The level of care, the level of consideration he was showing you – continually checking in with you, even while the two of you were drowning in lust – proved to you that you had nothing to be worried about – and you were going to tell him so.
“Yes, Hyunjin – and also,” you reached up to smooth your hand over his head, affection blazing in your heart. “You don’t have to keep asking me anymore.”
“Make me yours, Hyunjin – I need you.”
Hyunjin just stared at you for a second, emotions swirling in his beautiful brown eyes, before he crashed his lips into yours for a searing, toe-curling kiss.
His hands slipped under the edge of your chemise, fingers pushing apart and dragging along your sensitive inner thighs, sending pleasurable tingles up and down your legs. When his fingertips finally found their prize at the top of your thighs, Hyunjin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Angel…” he groaned out, gently running a single fingertip up and down your leaking slit. “How are you already so wet for me, hmm?” You mewled in sensitivity as his finger oh so lightly brushed your clit, his eyes darkening in response.
“I need to see all of you, my love, right now. Can you get up for me?” Hyunjin pulled you up as if you weighed nothing and tore your chemise off you in one go, leaving you fully bare for his hungry eyes. As you fell back to the mattress, Hyunjin sat back on his heels, pink tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips as he looked his fill of you. The fact that he was still fully clothed, looking every inch a king in his finery, while you lay wantonly naked in front of him, like a freshly unwrapped treat for him to devour, excited you in a strange, almost perverse way.
He leaned over you once again, breath ghosting over your face as he intently searched your eyes. Finding nothing but excitement and love there – no hints of fear or anxiety – he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.
“Now, let me worship you like you deserve – my queen.”
His lips burned a path down your body, adding to the existing artwork of love bites and leaving dozens of open-mouthed kisses in his wake. You were losing all sense of yourself to the heady desire…your world, your senses, everything was reduced to Hyunjin and the feeling of his hands and mouth on you.
Sucking one last hickey into the soft flesh below your belly button, Hyunjin eagerly settled himself between your legs. Almost immediately, you felt a single fingertip circling your entrance – the place you were craving him the most – before carefully, slowly pushing in.
Your head fell back against the pillows as you let out a keening moan. His finger wasn’t enough – it wasn’t even close to enough. But the pressure, the stretch that his finger provided, at least took the edge off the desperate ache in your core – for now.
At the feeling of your slick, wet walls sucking him in, Hyunjin looked like he was desperately struggling to hold himself in check, muttering obscenities under his breath. “You’re so fucking tight, love – what am I supposed to do with you, huh?”
The dirty words turned you on even more. As he slowly began to work his finger in and out of you, you mewled at the new sensations, moaning Hyunjin’s name with every twist and thrust of his finger.
You gasped when he added another finger to the mix, now fucking into you with both his index and middle fingers. While the first had gone in smoothly, the second met with a bit of discomfort – but nothing that could outlast the pleasure that you felt from his actions.
Once he could tell that you’d relaxed, Hyunjin started to slowly scissor his fingers, stretching your walls and increasing the delicious pressure inside your tight cunt. As you moaned in pleasure, uncaring now of the volume of your cries, Hyunjin leaned up over you to huskily whisper in your ear. “So tight, my angel, you feel so good around my fingers. I’ll have to take my time working this sweet pussy open for my cock.”
Your involuntary clench at his dirty words didn’t go unnoticed. “Oh, you like it when I say naughty things to you?” He arched an eyebrow at you, looking like some ancient god of lust as he continued pleasuring you. “Hmm, I think you’ll like it more if I use my mouth for other purposes though…”
Lowering his head between your legs, he flattened his tongue against your cunt in a single, broad, devastating lick.
You let out such a loud moan that you immediately slapped your hands over your mouth, ashamed of your wantonness. At the sound of a chuckle however, you looked down to find Hyunjin gazing up at you with dark amusement, a sight that only served to inflame you even more.
“Be loud for me, love. Let everyone know how well I’m giving it to you, hmm?”
He immediately went back to tonguing your clit, alternating between teasing flicks and devastating sucks as he steadily kept fucking his fingers into you. By the time he added in a third finger, you had lost it completely – forget the guards outside, you wouldn’t be surprised if the people still feasting downstairs could hear the echoes of your pleasure.
The desperate ache was only getting worse and worse. The pressure was growing and building and blocking out everything that wasn’t Hyunjin: that wasn’t his fingers; his tongue; his midnight eyes, holding your gaze as he fucked you into oblivion; or his naughty whispers, tormenting you and turning your insides into jelly.
You felt yourself hurtling towards some unknown peak, some unknown pinnacle of pleasure. At your broken whimpering and pleading, Hyunjin could tell you were close.
“Just like that, sweetheart. Let go for me, will you? Let go.”
And go you did – with the heat of his command ringing in your ears and the curl of his fingers inside of you, you fell over the edge.
Your hips bucked wildly as you moaned, so lost in sensation that you didn’t see Hyunjin staring down at you in wonder, watching you as if you were the most beautiful, wild thing alive. He tenderly helped you ride your orgasm out, pulling his fingers out before you became too sensitive.
Feeling absolutely boneless, pleasant aftershocks still tingling through you, you collapsed into Hyunjin’s arms, curling into his side and burying your head into his neck. After an initial, surprised moment of hesitation, Hyunjin wrapped his arms back around you, running his fingertips up and down your spine and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you came down from your peak.
“My good, good girl, you did so well for me, angel.”
Once you had caught your breath, you reached up to hold Hyunjin’s face in your hands, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. As the two of you deepened the kiss, you caught a faint taste of what you thought must be your own musk, a realization that started to slowly stoke the fire in you again.
Pulling away from your lips with a final peck, Hyunjin looked down at you, studying you with a fond but serious expression on his face. “That was probably a lot for you to experience for the first time – and I got too carried away to go easy on you, I’m sorry.” He winced as he delicately ran his fingertips over your marred neck and chest. “We don’t have to do anything else toni-”
You cut him off before the words were even fully out of his mouth. “No, no, Hyunjin – I want more. I want to become yours – in every sense of the word.” You grabbed his hands, entwining your fingers with his. “I – I want to explore your body too, and I want to give you the same pleasure you just brought me.”
Flushed beyond belief at this point, but still feeling a little bold, you shyly reached up to nose at his neck, laving your tongue over his pulse point just as he had done to you. You were rewarded with the image of him letting a breathy moan spill past his plump, kiss-swollen lips – only the first of many yet to come, you promised yourself.
You’d clearly pushed the right buttons, you thought as Hyunjin looked down at you, eyes half-hooded with the stirrings of lust. But something was still holding him back.
Stiffening in a way that he hadn’t since your first meeting, Hyunjin uncomfortably cleared his throat. “You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but, do you – uh, do you drink some type of moon tea?”
Moon tea? You were utterly confused why Hyunjin was asking you this, especially now of all times.
“Um, yes, I do – I drink it every month to keep my…courses regular. Why…” you trailed off; even if you had literally released on the man’s tongue a few minutes ago, it still felt slightly awkward to be talking about this with him.
“Did you drink it last month?”
“Oh…” you finally understood where he was going with this. “I did, yes – so I guess there’s no chance of me getting pregnant from tonight…I’m so sorry, I didn’t kn-”
“Good! Don’t be sorry, love – it’s a good thing.”
What? You looked on, confused, as Hyunjin leaned back onto the pillows, a relieved expression on his face.
“The way I see it, at this point in our…relationship,” he glanced over at you, a hopeful look on his face, “I thought that our focus should be to just truly get to know one another…before we bring something as serious as children into the picture.”
“And…to be fully honest,” he propped himself on his side, running the backs of his fingertips down your cheek as he loomed over you. “I want you just for myself for a while.”
Your heart was full, almost to the point of overflowing. One of the things you’d been most worried about before meeting him was that Hyunjin needed you just to ensure the succession, to give him an heir as soon as possible. But now here he was – wanting you clearly, first and foremost for you, rather than what you could provide him with.
You loved him.
You loved him, and you ached to show him just how much.
But first – there was a question that had been niggling at the back of your mind the entire time.
“H-Hyunjin…” he beamed, happy to hear his name on your lips, eyes crinkling into those crescents you’d already grown to love so much.
“Yes, my love?”
“The moon tea…everything you did to please me…how do you know so much about all of these things?”
His relaxed smile quickly turned shy, laced with embarrassment. “When I turned 18, my father thought that I needed to get some experience to ‘become a man.’” His use of air quotes, coupled with what you were learning was a characteristically dramatic expression of annoyance, made you giggle.
“So, he packed me off to visit the royal courtesans for a few weeks. I felt pretty awkward, especially in the beginning…but the ladies taught me a lot about a woman’s desires and how a man can pleasure her, so I don’t think I really regret it. If it hadn’t been for that, I’m not sure if tonight would have been enjoyable for you…”
He trailed off, shrugging sheepishly. “Of course, I haven’t had any experience in the years since then, so, I’m probably not at the top of my game.”
“Why haven’t you?” As you studied the man lying next to you, rendered sinfully, angelically gorgeous in the moonlight, you knew it wasn’t for the lack of opportunity – Hyunjin had probably had girls throwing themselves at him since he hit puberty.
He flushed to the tips of his ears, but matched your gaze, his eyes open and vulnerable. “I guess I…knowing that we were betrothed, it just didn’t feel right to get attached to anyone else.”
You couldn’t stop the smile from overtaking your face. It seemed Hyunjin might be a bit of a hopeless romantic too – just like you.
“I felt the same way about it,” you admitted. “Minho always thought I was a fool for it, but I’d hoped that… one day, we’d meet and I’d fall in love with you and you’d fall in love with me and then we’d get married…”
You let out a soft laugh. Taking his hands into yours, you looked steadily up into his eyes. “Maybe the way we went about it wasn’t exactly what I expected…but I don’t think we’re too far off track?”
“No…” Hyunjin leaned back over you, surrounding you with his warmth and scent as his eyes wandered over your face, taking in each and every inch, before his eyes finally settled on yours. “No…I don’t think we are.”
And with that, he swooped in for such a soft, such a gentle kiss that you thought you might melt in his arms. You almost thought that this would be enough; that you would be satisfied if you could just kiss him like this for the rest of the night – for the rest of your life.
But as Hyunjin gave himself fully into the kiss, he dropped his weight onto you, bearing into you with such delicious pressure that – you needed more.
Thus, to Hyunjin’s utter surprise, you gathered up enough strength to heave him off you, sitting up before turning to your astonished husband.
“Anyways, I think we’ve done enough talking for the night. There’s something really important that we need to take care of, right now.”
“Oh?” Hyunjin quirked a cocky eyebrow at you, relaxing and leaning back against the headboard with a naughty grin on his face as he leisurely watched you clamber onto his lap. “And what might that be?”
You slowly, lightly dragged your nails up his clothed torso, mentally noting his sharp intake of breath as you grazed his abs. Running your fingers up to his neck, you hooked them into the buttons of his doublet before leaning in to whisper in his ear.
“My dear husband – you’re wearing entirely too many clothes.”
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chans-bad-girl · 27 days ago
Hello~ recently I think that I have a voice kink(?) cause listening to someone moaning or dirty talks makes me horny lol. So I want to ask, what do you think skz would say in bed? Maybe including some dirty talks would be great! Thank you for answering my ask! <3
Lol same and sorry for the late reply, I had some issues with my queue☠️
MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!!
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Skz headcanons: dirty talk
warnings: obvi dirty talk, pet names (esp baby lol), moaning/groaning/whining etc., switch!skz and switch!reader, teasing, degradation, size kink, mirror sex, strong language/curses, toys, brat taiming, daddy/master/sir/mommy kink, praise, dumbification, hair pulling, fingering, piv, oral, quickies, breeding kink, soft and hard stuff all over the place lmao so one bulletpoint will be hard asf and then the other will be the most vanilla ass shit pls help, boob job, voice kink, wall sex, strength kink, mentions of exhibitism, ironic use of pet names
Chan:
It's no secret that he likes calling you babygirl lol
but he will not shy away to ask you what else you like being called or what you like in general
will be vocal about his likes as well
"ah shit, so tight."
his plump lips will channel to you the most chesty grunts and growls
hisses the whole time through
loves his babygirl loudly
when you take control he's even louder
"fuck, you're so good at this."
Minho
the type to try and rile you up/tease you with his voice
"such a pretty slut"
while Chan has it with praise, I think he has it with degradation
not as vocal when you take control
but when you're in front of a mirror he will not stop talking like
"look at you, so fucked out, I might use a vibrator with that dildo. blue and purple fit nice, no?"
a man will go absolutely insane when you talk back
likes his subs bratty so he can say shit like
"I don't know if you deserve this toy baby. I'm the only thing you need anyway to get off, isn't that so?"
Changbin
wants you to
no
requires you to call him master or sir
and he calls you kitten or little girl instead
"so wet only for me"
oh and his SIZE KINK
"what a pretty little hole you have here, I wonder how I even fit inside."
he LOVES when you call him buff or strong
probably also likes a bit of dumbification like
"my little girl can't stand up by herself? your legs are too shaky? come on kitten, let me carry you."
will use it as an excuse to throw you onto the bed and then rail you again
sorry not sorry but, on this blog, Changbin has the power, no questions asked
Hyunjin
speaking clearly? foreign to him
he's gonna try so bad to be all hard but he's a whiny mess and gets lost in the emotion
honestly I see him as somebody rather traditional
but will also bust stuff like this once in a while:
"love it when you pull on my hair, let me pull on yours too"
oh my god when you tell this man what you want
like, when you're vocal
((because he'll mostly just moan))
he will softly look up like
"my fingers? baby let me show you what I can do."
and then look at you with that dark gaze and go ham on you (just to turn you on because he knows u love it)
will also ask for blowjobs and then hold your hair for you
Jisung
fullon screams
like, calls out "baby" the whole time and just won't stop bucking his hips for more friction when you touch him
"scream for me, baby, come on."
probably won't order you around or anything
but might be a bratty ass sub himself
like "mommy, I'm so close."
furrowed brows and an expression almost of pain at your ministrations on his red, angry dick
let's be real, he'll get horny a lot so asking for quickies won't be unusual
"babe, let's unwind real quick, and swallow because I have to be at the meeting in like 15 minutes."
Felix
I can't stop thinking of him calling you a bitch with his nose scrunched up and his eyebrows furrowed, jaw wide open as he whisper-screams
"take it, bitch"
the breeding kink ooooo
but will mostly be soft so I obvi have some for that in store
"do you like this, babe?"
and if you ask him for his kinks
WHICH YOU SHOULD
he's gonna say (and lord help me)
"I've kinda always fantazised about a boob job BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO if you're uncomfortable with it."
you better bet that the next thing he says is
"fuck, my cum looks so good on your pretty chest, mhhh."
observes your reaction to everything he does so he can love you better
his voice is basically his secret weapon
will intentionally speak and moan in his lower register just to make you lose your brains while he fucks them out of you
hope you're going as crazy as I am rn
Seungmin
will approach it in a bit more calculated way
will ask you what you like and don't like
but will also take note of your body and how it reacts
absolutely goes fucking crazy for the smallest things
"keep squirming with your thighs like that or forgive me when I rip that dress off your body."
a sucker for teasing the fuck out of you until your arousal drips down your fucking leg
"I bet you'd look good around me right now, but we can't do that because we're in public *wink* *dandy boy smile* *that hides the knowing grin* *because he knows you're absolutely dying rn*"
I feel like he'd giggle a lot in bed?
like
"baby, your hair is all over your face, hehe."
jeongin
idk if it's the Busan air or what they feed them
but my boy gives off Jungkook vibes in a way where he could pin you against a wall just to show you he's strong and more than just the soft baby bread image the media forces onto him
he's grown, and he wants you to feel it
"take it. take all of me."
loves the sounds of your back against the wall
"all bark huh? look at how messed up you are right now, angel."
will use the word angel ironically
not big on moaning but he might hiss a bit
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hanjisick · a month ago
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yandere skz reaction
you give him a blowjob on a call
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warning. this is not how i portray the members of stray kids or how you should either. this is purely for entertainment purposes.
requested. Hey can you do skz reaction to their s/o giving them head or ride them while on call with other members? If you cant just ignore this lmao 😂
bang chan
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zero shits at first. he looks down at you while you unbutton his pants, and then goes right back to the call.
"yes, jisung-ah, about the track..." he grabs a handful of your hair, paying no attention to you at all.
"i don't know, jisung, maybe the lyrics could be changed a bit. it seems a little risky— fuck. yeah, but the teaser is set..." he let jisung talk over him, losing himself in the feeling of your lips. when you swallowed around him, he let out a strangled noise.
"hyung, are you alright?" "something came up, i'll call you back."
his grip tightened on your hair as he hung up. "you're so needy that you couldn't even wait until i was off the phone, hm? such a slut for my attention. you're gonna finish what you started."
lee minho
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oh, he's on the phone? how unfortunate for his hyung, but he'll have to call him back. he won't take any of your shit.
"darling, if you wanted me to fuck you senseless, you could have just said so," he removed your hands from his pants.
"no, no, you aren't going to humiliate me on a call with chan-hyung... but you however..."
you were on the bed in an instant with your legs spread, him pressing kisses to your thighs as he removed your soaked panties. "you were wanting this for a while, hm? needy brat."
"you are going to take my phone and record a voice message of you moaning my name for chan-hyung and send it to him. if you don't, i'll send him a video of me fucking you until you can't speak."
seo changbin
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immediately he hangs up the phone. "what were you trying to do?"
he was taking none of your shit.
good part is, it would lead to some pretty kinky sex.
he'd be pounding into you, cursing about how much of a dirty slut you were for wanting felix to hear you two.
after all, you were for him to enjoy only. nobody else could hear your pretty little moans.
he would teach you a lesson. don't ever try to pull that shit again. if you do, you won't be able to walk in the morning.
"but you want that too, hm? my nasty little darling."
hwang hyunjin
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he would really enjoy it. hyunjin would continue talking to minho as normal, hands gripping your hair and his eyebrows furrowed.
eventually he stops talking as much, responding in short answers and trying to get minho to talk as much as possible.
"mhm, yeah, no, mhm." he would repeat, lips parted and eyes squeezing shut.
he went from being fine with it to falling apart underneath you so quickly. "i have to go, i'll talk later. bye hyung."
by the time he was off the phone, he was too far gone to scold you, simply enjoying your mouth.
han jisung
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literally doesn't care. this man gets off to the idea of everyone knowing that you are his. only his.
what better way to show that than to have you sucking him off on the phone with changbin?
he would pretend to want to conceal it, but let moans and curses spill out until the other on the line knows exactly what you two were up to.
he doesn't really care that it might put changbin in an awkward position. he's just glad that he knows who you belong to.
jisung would go so far as to cum on the phone, telling you how good you were to him, as if changbin wasn't even there.
he knows changbin probably found it hot too. who wouldn't?
but he couldn't have you. only jisung could.
lee felix
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"do you hear that, hyunjin? do you hear how much of a slut y/n is for me?"
god, he would love it. every second of it.
in fact, he would probably want to do it again.
he enjoys rubbing it in his members faces that you are his, and you want him just as much as he wants you.
he would have no shame degrading you to hyunjin.
"do you hear y/n? what a nasty little thing. couldn't even wait until i was off the phone with you, isn't that right, hyung?"
he would talk about what he was going to do to you after they got off the phone, how he was going to punish you.
god, he couldn't wait.
though he wouldn't admit it, he would want you to do that more often.
kim seungmin
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"oh! hello angel! what do you— oh!"
he was caught off guard, but it wasn't unwelcome.
no, not at all unwelcome.
he would smile down at you, tossing the phone across the floor and not bothering to hang up on jeongin.
instead, he was focused on you now, and how good your mouth felt wrapped around him.
he would moan your name constantly, hands gripping your hair as he praised everything you did.
the fact that jeongin hadn't hung up yet spurred him on even more. he must find this hot.
"y/n, you're such a good little darling for me. i bet jeongin-ah thinks so too, isn't that right?"
yang jeongin
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lip biting and heavy breathing. he wouldn't stop you, but he'd refuse to let his hyung see him in this light.
everything about the situation was just so fucking hot.
you on your knees below his chair, sucking on his dick, not caring that him and seungmin were talking...
it was enough to make him hang up the phone without even saying goodbye.
he let the phone ring as seungmin tried to call back, letting his moans and curses spill out without filter now.
"i can't believe, fuck, i can't believe you did that baby, now i have to come up with a lie and..." he lost his thought as you swallowed around him, making his mind go crazy.
you were too good at giving him blowjobs, he couldn't even think anymore, completely lost in the feeling of your mouth.
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seungminyoongi · 9 days ago
Text
Taste - Hyunjin
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Word Count: 2.8k
Genre: Smut. Club!AU? I dunno what to call it.
TLDR: Your night shift at the club usually ended with strange things. Though, a beautiful brunette with a gaze that could singlehandedly steal your soul was not on the list of expectations..
Contains: Dom!hyunjin x f!reader, fingering F!receiving, exhibitionism, finger sucking, degradation, praise, lots of teasing, cocky Hyunjin, I think like one usage of the word ‘cock’ if any of you hate that. Cum play?
A/N: Hello all! This is my first official, published smut fic. I have written for a few years now, but never put out smut. Not proofread haha. So feedback is welcomed and really appreciated! Requests are open, and I hope you enjoy! <3
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Saturday night and you were working your usual night shift as a bartender. The club you worked at wasn’t necessarily the most popular one in town, but it got quite a bit of patronage.
You’d put on your usual show for customers, leaning over the bar, acting completely and utterly interested in everything they had to say, just to ensure a decent tip was slid your way when they headed out for the night. As they got more affected by the drinks, sometimes they would share things that were way more personal than you had signed up for.
For example, one of your regulars had a couple too many and started telling you all about their family scandals. Like their sister dropping out of college to go run off to some foreign country with her rebel boyfriend that, apparently, nobody approved of. Or their aunt who ended up divorcing her husband because turns out, after all of those years of them together, she harbored a love for her best friend. So, needless to say, sometimes being a bartender was the equivalent of being thrown into a reality TV show.
On slower nights though, like tonight, you’d rest your elbows against the bar and people watch. You’d watch as they danced to the loud thumping of the club music, with the fancy multi-colored LED lights swirling around the room. In the back of your mind, you’d take note of the customers that you could definitely tell were drunk off of their minds, since it was illegal to serve them when they were hammered. To “prevent any more trouble than we need” your boss would always tell you.
Slower nights were honestly a hit or miss for you. It was either your shift was incredibly peaceful to you, seen as a recovery night from the Friday night rush you had the evening prior. Or, it would be entirely, completely boring. With your night tonight being most like the latter of the two options, you found yourself almost falling asleep at the bar. That was, until he showed up.
Just as your eyes began to droop closed, a man dressed in a white button down and some black leather pants —a stark contrast to the men that showed up in just a t-shirt and plain blue jeans— sat down at the counter. He immediately rattles off his drink request and you get to making it, throwing the concoction together into a shaker to give it a stir. Extending your hand out to give him the freshly poured beverage, his hand overlaps yours as he grasps onto the glass.
Looking up, you find yourself absolutely stunned by this man’s appearance. He has dark, chocolate brown hair tied up halfway, with strands placed neatly along the frame of his face. His outfit does little to hide the fact that he is very physically fit, his collar bones sticking out of his half-unbuttoned dress shirt. And just when you thought he couldn’t get any more perfect from that alone, you observe his eyes.
Immediately, you find yourself lost in them, his beautiful, piercing eyes seem to have the ability to see straight into your soul. It had been a good few seconds, maybe a minute, just analyzing the person in front of you while you could have sworn he was too occupied with his drink to notice. Realizing you’ve been holding eye contact for entirely too long for it to be normal in any sense of the word, a smirk plasters itself onto his face.
“I would tell you that my eyes are up here, but it seems you’re already staring into them.” The man says, a confident tone taking over his voice. He leans onto the counter, inching himself closer to you. The smell of his cologne more noticeable than before.
Having been called out, your face flushes a bright shade of red. The man notices this and adds another smug comment.
“What’s wrong? That red all over your cheeks mean you’re getting shy on me now? You seemed so open to checking me out just a second ago.”
The man picks up his glass and presses it to his soft lips, remnants of his smirk still on his face as he takes a sip of his drink.
“*Shut up! I’m not blushing!*” You yell as you turn away from him, not allowing him to take pride in the pink that’s dusting your cheeks.
“Hey don’t turn away from me, I’d like to see your pretty face some more.”
“I’ll turn around if you stop smirking. You’re having too much fun and I don’t even know you.” you retort, sass oozing from your lips as you turn back around to face him. This earns a chuckle from the man, leaning back in his barstool.
“Hyunjin.” A quick and simple introduction.
You introduced yourself as well, one-worded like the other, and that was that.
Your Saturday night was mostly occupied by chatting with Hyunjin at the bar, entirely too flirty for a regular customer, interrupted by quick drink-making runs in between some parts of the conversation. You really couldn’t help it, something about him… You just couldn’t place a finger on it. Well, he was beautiful and charismatic as all hell, and the rings that decorated his fingers were wholly distracting. But that wasn’t quite it.
During the chatting, you had found yourself staring at his lips quite often. How they hugged the glass when he took a sip, the way they shaped to form words when he spoke, or the strategic placement of a few licks of them every now and then.
“My friends ditched me.”
You were brought back to attention by the pretty laugh the other let out after his words. You adjusted your elbows against the countertop and tilted your head.
“Ditched you? What do you mean?”
He could tell you had zoned out on him.
“No, not like that. They’re over there.” He pointed. Your eyes followed, met with the sight of a larger group of men, almost all of them already with dancing partners out on the floor.
“Oh. That kind of ditch.” You laughed. “How does it feel to be replaced?” A tease directed towards Hyunjin.
You checked the clock, remembering that you were only scheduled for a half-shift today due to your coworker insisting on extra hours this weekend. Something about a baby shower coming up? You didn’t really care. But you were peeved that your time with Hyunjin was cut short.
“Looks like I’m going to have to ditch you too.” You frowned slightly, grabbing a rag to do a ‘between workers’ wipe down of the bar.
“Wait—“ Your movements were halted, wrist now in Hyunjin’s grip as he looked up at you.
“Dance with me after.”
There was silence for a moment, your breath caught in your throat at the contact. Not to mention the sight. Hyunjin’s plush lips you had found yourself daydreaming about most of your shift were parted, eyes shaped into a look you just couldn’t say no to.
“Uh.” You stuttered, not pulling your arm away. “Yeah. Sure. Just let me get more presentable than this after. I’ll be out.”
Hyunjin smirked, finally releasing your wrist as he leaned forward, voice like honey with a lower tone, spoken so only you could hear it.
“Then I’ll be waiting for you.”
———————
It was a few moments of internal panic, taking your hair down from that stupid lobster clip everyone swears by but you can’t stand, and a couple sprays of perfume so you didn’t smell like Jack Daniels felt you up himself. Once you had yourself, and your mind mostly together, you exited the staff room and made your way towards the dance floor. Hyunjin said he would be waiting, but didn’t say exactly where.
You sifted through the crowd, the floor lighting up beneath your feet, ears starting to ring from the loud thumping of the bass that was much clearer now up close. Even with your eyes squinted, you couldn’t find him. Maybe he ditched?
“Hey!—“ You yelled, being tugged by someone you couldn’t really see at first, bumping into a very firm chest. Props to them honestly.
“It’s just me. Seems like you need glasses, yeah?” Hyunjin teased, gently taking your hand off of his chest and spinning you around smoothly, his chest pressed up against your back. “Oh shush.” You retorted. His hips met your ass, pretty, ringed hands sliding down your figure to meet at your waist.
“How smooth of you.” You laughed, commenting on the spin as you finally found the beat, starting to sway to it. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were nervous. Men didn’t typically intimidate you or make you anxious, but this one was different.
“Can I admit something?” You shouted behind yourself, feeling Hyunjin’s fingertips burning holes into your hip bones.
“Go for it.”
“I haven’t danced with anyone in a while.”
“It’s okay.” You heard him laugh behind you. “I’ll guide you.” He lowered his voice, much closer to your ear than before. You felt his breath fan against your neck and you shivered, attempting to put your heart rate back to a normal pace.
Your efforts were useless, Hyunjin’s hand sliding down from your waist to your inner thigh. You looked down, watching his fingers curl to a tighter grip on your leg, the club lights making multicolored reflections in his silver rings. One of them was a snake. Hot.
A gentle push by his hand had you turning in his arms, now face-to-face with him. He adjusted his leg, now bracketed between yours. And God, the friction. That combined with his piercing stare. It’s like he wanted you to melt in his arms.
“What’s the matter, beautiful?” A flirtatious tease, but you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to it. Your chest tightened, breath starting to stutter as his arm pulled you in closer. You couldn’t answer very long, nothing clever formed as a reply.
“Nothing. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Too close?” That one was a low purr. Your whole body was hot at this point, and it wasn’t the body heat of the crowd surrounding you.
“Not close enough.”
————————————
That was it, a few drinks later and it was a sealed deal. Sex at your workplace was the last way you expected your Saturday shift to go, but it definitely wasn’t the worst.
You’d been tugged across the club, the two of you found a dark booth in the corner, a wall-divider separating the dance floor from the seats. And at this point you weren’t very picky.
A shove to his chest had him falling back into the cushion, back meeting the wall as you chased his lips, those same pink, plush lips you were staring at earlier. You tasted alcohol and mint on his tongue, his teeth brushing against your bottom lip as his hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward and into his lap.
You felt his thighs flex underneath you, hips lifting up to grind against your core. A gasp fell from your mouth, the fabric of your panties underneath your skirt doing little to reduce the friction of his pants against you. Your lips parted, giving him enough time for a smug laugh. In retaliation, you ground down harder, feeling him muffle a groan against your lips. Ha.
You pushed up his shirt, hands roaming underneath and along his abs. Your fingers worked at the buttons, hips meeting his in a steady rhythm.
“Eager, hmm?” He teased, his lips pulled up in a cocky grin. You rolled your eyes, shoving the sleeves of his shirt down his arms. He complied, amused by what he was slowly turning you into. His white shirt hit the ground underneath the booth, goosebumps appearing on his arms from the air.
His hands slipped down past your waist, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck. He found purchase there, teeth brushing against the skin as he nipped at it, sucking and creating hickeys that would be a bitch to hide later.
Your cheeks felt hot as you tilted your head to the side, feeling Hyunjin’s hand make his way underneath your skirt, rings cold against the skin of your stomach and fingers toying with the top seam of your underwear.
“Stop teasing, you ass.” You sassed, your hands starting to work at the button of his pants. He gave a satisfied hum against your neck when you jolted, pulling your underwear aside to slide his fingers between your folds. “God you’re soaked, kitten.” He groaned, pulling his hand out, fingertips wet from your arousal.
“Taste.”
A simple command, his thumb dragging along your jawline to meet at your bottom lip. He toyed with it, tugging at it to part your lips before shoving his middle and ring finger past them. You could taste yourself on your tongue, a low moan sounding from you as you wrapped your lips around his fingers, sucking at them.
“That’s it. Good girl. Clean them off all nice for me.”
When he was satisfied, he pulled them out, a string of saliva still connecting them to your lips.
You soon realized all of that was a simple tease, as his fingers found themselves back between your legs, circling at your entrance. You placed a hand on his shoulder, adjusting the angle so he had more room. When they entered, your breath hitched, feeling his fingers curl inside you as he started up a rhythm. It was becoming harder to keep your moans low and between the two of you, Hyunjin made note of that and picked up the pace.
“Look at you, taking my fingers like a pretty toy. I wonder what your boss would think if he saw you like this, hmm?” His voice was smooth, low, and teasing the life out of you.
Your hands flew to his pants, tugging down the zipper and shoving at his waistband, trying to free his dick from his boxers. “Please, just fuck me already.”
“If you insist.” He replied, calm and collected as he pulled his fingers out, having gotten you to just before the edge when he decided to listen to you for once.
He was pretty. Every part of him was pretty. Even his dick. Your hand wrapped around it, stroking languidly until he shoved your hand away, grabbing your wrist and placing it behind your back. “You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?”
All you did was whine in response, thanking whatever it was you believed in that your skirt managed to hide most of what was going on from the public eye. Still, you felt dirty, about to ride Hyunjin in the corner of a dark club. Your face was red, breathing staggered as you felt him brush himself along your folds.
He pushed in, both of you moaning together. Your hands gripped at his shoulders as he let out a low “Fuck” when he bottomed out. His hands cupped your ass, lifting you up and encouraging you to start moving. And you did, eagerly so, cursing his name in a satisfied whine as he fucked up into you.
“Feel good, angel? You’re doing great for me. Such a willing, shameless little thing.”
His words made you shudder, your thighs clenching as you took over, desperately fucking down onto his cock. You wanted to shut him up. You knew how smug he was about this, but honestly, he had every right to be. Even though it was in some stupid club, this was one of the best hookups you’ve ever had.
He lulled his head back, meeting the wall with his eyes closed as you tried to muffle your sounds against the skin of his neck. His fingers laced into your hair, tugging your head back with a sharp command.
“I want to hear you. You hide your moans from me and I stop. You understand?”
You nodded, gasping at the harsh grip he had on your hair. “Fuck.” You swore, body lurching forward when you felt his fingers find your clit again, circling it as you neared your high.
Your hands braced against the wall, leaning forward into his touch. Already starting to feel sore, you kept going, head feeling fuzzy and body wanting nothing more than release. “I’m close. Please. Can I come?”
You don’t know why you asked permission. Something about how he spoke made you feel compelled to. And that only served to fuel his ego even more.
“Go ahead, princess. Come.”
It didn’t take long before your hips started to stutter, a loud moan left you as you rode out your high. Hyunjin pulled out, finishing onto the material of your skirt. Just because he could.
It was silent for a few moments, just the sound of the music and your breathing as you both caught your breath. You had bent over, reaching for his shirt under the table as you heard it.
“Wow, Hyunjin. I see you had fun tonight.”
God, you were never going to show your face in this club ever again.
305 notes · View notes
jiminbbyboy · a month ago
Text
to be alone: h.hj (m)
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feat: Hwang Hyunjin x f.reader
friends to lovers / non idol verse
word count: 5.7k
↳ She couldn’t sleep at night, and her loneliness always led to her calling the same person to share a bed with her.
warnings: angst, smut, unprotected sex
an: this is another one of my older stories from spider-babe-parker that I have fully reworked and edited.
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The bright alarm clock on your nightstand read 3:47am. The bright red light was a constant reminder that you weren’t able to actually sleep. Tossing over for what felt like the hundredth time in an hour, you tried to escape the bright light. A heavy sigh passed your lips as you closed your eyes once again trying to fall asleep.
You had to be up at eight for your job and at this rate it didn’t look like you were going to be sleeping anytime soon. Reaching over for your phone that was sitting in the nightstand by your bed, looking through your messages for the only person you might be awake.
YN: Are you awake?
Sitting your phone down on the soft bed next to you, you closed her eyes once again hoping sleep would finally find you. Your phone buzzed lightly and the screen lit up letting you know you had received a text.
Hyunjin: I’m awake.
You knew you were playing with fire, but for some reason that never seemed to stop you. The more often this happened the more you knew you were growing attached to him. Biting your lip you sent another text.
YN: Did you want to come over?
This was a text you had been sending quite a bit recently, and you knew the answer to it before you even sent it. Sitting the phone back on the bed next to you, you looked down at the dark screen waiting for it to light up.
Hyunjin: I’ll be there in five.
Slowly you crawled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Turning the faucet on you splashed cold water on your face. This was your poor attempt at trying to calm down. You couldn’t help but constantly get nervous at the thought of Hyunjin coming over, for some reason just being close to him seemed to give you butterflies. You had fallen into this weird routine recently of him coming over to see you in the middle of the night. You constantly kept telling yourself it had to end because falling for Hwang Hyunjin wasn’t going to do anything other than break her heart. He was a man too charming for his own good, and he was the definition of the perfect man. You knew that you weren’t the type of girl he was supposed to be with. He was a beautiful man, with an amazing personality. While you were an average girl, who struggled with body image issues, and trying your hardest to love yourself. You always tried to stay confident and tell yourself you were beautiful, but there were some days where you struggled.
As you walked into the living room you heard a soft knock on the door letting you know Hyunjin was there. Opening the door you found him dressing in a pair of black sweatpants and grey zip up hoodie. The zipper was down low enough exposing his chest letting her know he wasn’t wearing anything under it.
A soft smile was on his face as he walked past you. Silently you both walked down the hallway and entered your room. He knew your routines very well, and there was no reason for you to even say anything to each other. Standing on your normal side of the bed you couldn’t help but watch as he slid the zipper down on his hoodie exposing his toned chest. Your eyes darted away from his warm ones as he looked over at you. Silently you crawled into bed and snuggled up under the covers. He kicked off his house slipper and dropped his hoodie onto the floor and crawled into bed next to you.
Laying on his side he stared at you. You didn’t exactly know what happened, that you suddenly hate sleeping alone, but for some reason you couldn’t stand the thought of him not being in your bed with you.
“Why did you text me?” he asked softly.
“I guess I was lonely,” you whispered, speaking for the first time.
Without a word he reached over and pulled your soft body closer to his. You never seemed to feel safer than when he held you close to him. He nuzzles his nose against your spine and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh. Reaching up you laced your fingers with his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Everything was so peaceful when you shared a bed with him.
It didn’t take long before the sleep overcame you. You awoke to the feeling of the bed moving next to you and the sound of your annoying alarm going on your nightstand. Rolling over slowly you watched as a shirtless Hyunjin reached over and turned the ringing alarm off. He gave you a soft smile before he reached his arms over his head and stretched. A loud groan passed his lips as he stretched his tone muscles. It was six in the morning and we both needed to get up and get ready for work.
“I need to head home and get ready for work,” he said softly sitting on the bed next to you.
You nodded knowing that this was all a part of the routine you had fallen into.
“I need to take a shower,” you said with your voice sounding raspy.
“Okay I’ll see you tonight at Jisung’s birthday,” he leaned over and pressed his lips to the top of your head.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
After Hyunjin left you to get ready for work, you took a shower and got ready for work. You walked into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and found your roommate making herself a cup of coffee. The fiery red head shook her head as she looked over at you as she held her favorite cup she always drank her coffee out of.
“I saw Hyunjin leave this morning,” her tone showed her disapproval.
You were silent as you walked over to the cupboard and grabbed your own cup. Glancing over at Jihyo you saw her still staring at you.
“He’s going to break your heart without even meaning to,” Jihyo loved you, and she was so worried you were going to get hurt.
“I know he is,” you said knowing that Jihyo was right.
Even though you wished your roommate wasn’t right, you couldn’t lie to yourself. This whole thing was going to end with your heartbroken.
-
Work for some reason just seemed to drag on for some reason for you. That might have something to do with the fact that you knew you were going to be seeing Hyunjin after work. Walking into your apartment you found Jihyo sitting at the kitchen table doing her makeup. You knew she was going out of her way to make herself look nice for Jisung’s party. They had recently started dating and they were in the honeymoon stage of their relationship where they just couldn’t seem to keep their hands to themselves. You couldn’t lie, you really liked Jisung and Jihyo together, she seemed to tame him, and she just seemed overall happier around him.
Walking over you sat down across from her and watched her as she painted her lips a perfect shade of red that went perfect with her skin. Jihyo put her lipstick down and looked over at and smirked.
“What are you wearing for Hyunjin tonight?” She asked.
“I’m not getting dressed up for Hyunjin,” you lied. For some reason you always lied when it came to hiding your feelings for Hyunjin.
Walking into your room you searched for something to wear. You settled on a pair of dark jeans that hugged your body just right and a sweater. Stepping into a pair of boots you looked into the full length mirror that was in your room. You couldn’t help but wonder if your jeans were too tight and wonder if you should change your outfit. Tugging on the bottom of your sweater you hated where it ended on your stomach. The sound of your bedroom door opening caused you to turn around, and find Jihyo standing in the doorway.
“You look pretty.”
“Thanks Jihyo, let's go,” you walked over towards her.
Walking into the crowded bar the first thing you and Jihyo did was walk over to the bar. According to Jihyo she needed a strong drink after her day at work. You knew you weren’t one to argue with her either. You had a million things on your mind and you felt like you needed a strong drink yourself. Jihyo leaned over the bar and managed to get your guys drinks way faster.
Walking across the crowded room you found the three boys sitting in a booth. Jihyo slid into the booth next to Jisung and gave him a quick kiss and you sat next to Changbin. He leaned over and gave you a hug. Hyunjin leaned over from the other side of Changbin and said hello.
The night was filled with lots of drinks and dancing. Jihyo and Jisung spent most of the time on the dance floor and occasionally Changbin would join them for a few songs. You and Hyunjin spend most the night at the table talking.
Letting out a yawn you ran your fingers through your hair. You had a very long day at work and being out all night was taking all your energy.
“Are you exhausted?” Hyunjin asked.
Nodding your head you couldn’t lie you were pretty tired, but you knew that wouldn’t matter later tonight when you would be lying in bed trying to sleep.
“I feel like I’m always tired, but I can never actually sleep,” you said.
He reached over and rested his hand on your thigh, and a shiver went down your spine at his unexpected touch. “You don’t have to do that alone.” His words suddenly made your head spin, you weren’t even exactly sure how to take what exactly he said. Silently you nodded your head unsure of what exactly to say to him.
Jisung and Jihyo stumbled back to the table with Changbin following behind them. Sliding back into the booth they were giggling about something between sloppy kisses.
Soon you guys called it a night and Jihyo went to Jisung’s apartment and you walked home alone. You were only in your apartment long enough to get dressed for bed when you sent a text to Hyunjin.
YN: Did you want to come over?
Hyunjin: Yeah I can be there in five minutes.
Sitting your phone down on your nightstand you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could keep this thing going between the two of you.
Opening your front door you found Hyunjin standing there smiling. He walked inside and watched as you closed the front door. You walked down the hallway towards your room and Hyunjin followed closely behind you. Your stomach twisted in knots leaving you confused about your feelings. Crawling into bed you watched as Hyunjin pulled off his sweater and jeans and crawled into bed next to you. Laying on your side you watched Hyunjin as he laid on his back staring at the ceiling. You didn’t even know what to say, in the moment you felt as if you had a million things. You wished you could tell him that there was nothing more in the world you craved than his touch. You wished that you could explain how this whole thing between the two of you started, but you can’t even explain how it exactly happened.
Slowly he reached his hand out and rested it on top of yours. His touch always felt like home to you. Biting your bottom lip you softly smiled at him.
“Come closer to me,” his voice was soft and welcoming.
Silently you scooted closer to Hyunjin and he pulled your soft body close to his strong one. Your head rested on his chest as his hand gently rubbed your side. You two had shared a bed often but most nights you two spooned. You never laid with your head his chest like this, but something about this felt so right. You closed your eyes taking in his closeness. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the top of your head.
You couldn’t help but wonder if Hyunjin had feelings for you or if he had just grown comfortable with this weird routine you had fallen into. The closer the two of you got the more you realized you were falling in love with the man you were sharing a bed with.
-
It had been a stressful day to say the least. You left work in a hurry when Jihyo called you to let you know that Changbin had been in a motorcycle accident. You and the rest of your friends quickly rushed to the hospital. Hyunjin was the first of you guys to get there and you found him pacing around in the waiting room. Jisung and Jihyo took over talking to the nurses to find out what was going on. You stood there watching Hyunjin continue to pace. Walking over to him you reached out and grabbed his arm to try to stop him. He stopped in his tracks and looked over at you with wild eyes. You hadn’t ever seen him look at you quite like that. He looked scared and angry all at once.
“What?” He snapped.
Silently you looked at him, not exactly sure how to respond. He had never raised his voice at you. You dropped his arm and stared at him.
“(Y/n) sorry,” his voice was low and filled with remorse.
“It’s fine, are you okay?”
Slowly he nodded.
“Who is here for Seo Changbin?” A doctor asked, walking into the waiting room.
You and your friends walked over quickly to the doctor. He informed all of you that Changbin was going to be okay, that he broke his arm pretty badly, and had some really bad road rash, but other than that he wasn’t too hurt. He led all of you to see Changbin. He was pretty bruised up but he smiled at the sight of his friends. You stood back and watched as Hyunjin went over to him first. They hugged and whispered into each other’s ears. You couldn’t help but assume Hyunjin was giving him a hard time for scaring him. Jisung and Jihyo stayed at the hospital for an hour before heading out. You stayed back with Hyunjin, you didn’t want him to be alone at any point. Changbin and Hyunjin were childhood best friends and basically brothers. They were also roommates now, and you knew Hyunjin was having a hard time seeing his best friend hurt. You stayed at the hospital with Hyunjin until visiting hours were over. Changbin told you guys he was okay that if he needed anything he would call you.
You drove Hyunjin to his place since he originally went to the hospital with Jisung. You walked down the hallway walking closely to Hyunjin. You wanted nothing more to reach down and hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be okay.
Hyunjin opened his door and looked over at you with a sad look, “did you want to come in?”
“Sure,” you nodded.
You followed him inside and you watched as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He sat down on the couch and let out a heavy sigh. You could tell he had so many thoughts running through his mind. He was still scared that Changbin wasn’t going to be okay. You walked over and sat down on the couch next to him. You two sat there silently for about fifteen minutes when you wondered if it's time for you to go home. Hyunjin wasn’t exactly doing anything to make you feel welcomed.
“I should probably head home,” you said as you stood up awkwardly.
“Okay,” he said before setting his glass bottle down on the coffee table.
Suddenly you felt like things between you and Hyunjin weren’t the same. You always thought he was someone who would be there for you no matter what, and you thought that he would want you around when he needed you, but it was clear he wanted to be alone.
You walked out of his apartment and headed for the elevator. You clicked the down button and before the doors opened you heard your phone vibrate.
Hyunjin: Can you come over?
You bit your bottom lip as you stared at his text. Ever since you two had started sharing a bed, he hadn’t ever texted you first to ask if you were awake or if you wanted to come over.
Y/N: I’ll be right over
Turning on your heels you walked back down the hallway and before you could even knock on the door Hyunjin opened it. He reached down without a word and grabbed your hand and led you towards his room. Suddenly everything felt like a dream, as if nothing seemed real.
He dropped your hand and stepped away to remove his dress shirt and shoes. You took this as your cue and took off your boots and looked over at him with wide eyes wondering what all this meant. He stepped towards you shirtless and placed a hand on your cheek. You took a deep breath as your eyes stayed locked on his. He leaned forward and rested his nose against yours and felt suddenly dizzy at his closeness. His lips brushed against yours for a barely their kiss and before you could apply any pressure to his lips he pulled away. He moved and laid down on his bed and silently you followed him. He pulled you close to him, and wordlessly his lips brushed against yours. Goosebumps covered your skin at his electric touch. His strong hand moved down your soft sides and his hand wandered down your round butt. Squeezing it to pull you closer to him. Hungry hands crawled across his skin on his shoulder blades pulling him as close as possible to him. His warm lips ghosted yours for a moment as you opened your mouth to speak. He leaned into your lips for a hungry kiss. This was the first real kiss you had ever shared and it seemed to light a fire inside you. His strong hands gripped your butt as his lips moved against yours.
Silently he pulled away from you and looked into your eyes as if he was asking you what should happen next. Without a word you set up and reached down for the bottom of your dress. He sat up and moved your hands away and removed your dress. You sat back on your hunches removing your bar you had been wearing and silently stared at him as you were completely bare from the waist up. Hyunjin laid back down on the bed and pulled you with him. Your lips moved together for a heated kiss. Your body laid on top of his as you continued to kiss. Sparks seemed to fly every time your lips touched.
Pulling away for a moment you looked into his warm eyes. He gave you a soft smile before connecting his lips to yours again.
“Lay on your back,” he rasped softly, speaking for the first time since you had entered your bedroom.
You laid on your back and watched as he quickly removed his jeans and boxers. Your lust blown eyes couldn’t help but wonder his body that seemed to be sculpted from stone. Everything between the two of you was silent. His hand reached for your panties and slid them down your thighs leaving you both completely naked. His hand slowly moved from your inner thigh up to your most sensitive area. His long finger runs through your folds. He gently presses a kiss on your knee as his finger makes circles on your sensitive clit. A low gasp leaves your lips. With each movement of his finger he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
“Hyunjin,” you moan, finding your release.
He stares at you for a moment before he lays on his side and taps the bed next. You moved to lay on your side with your back pressed against his chest. He placed wet kisses on your spine as he slowly entered you. You couldn’t help but gasp at the feeling of him feeling you completely. Everything was still between the two of you as he gave you time to adjust to him. His hand draped over your soft stomach and you reached up to lace your fingers with his.
You moaned his name letting him know he needed to move. His pace was slow as his hips rolled into your backside. Wet kisses were placed across your shoulder as moans passed your lips. You squeezed his hand wanting to be as close as possible to him. Rolling your head back you rested it against his chest as you moaned his name. You weren’t sure at the moment if you knew any other words than his name. He was silent other than moaning as he rolled his hips into yours. Each roll of his hips felt like ecstasy. You desperately wished you could see how beautiful he looked right now. His hand that’s not holding yours reaches down to lift your leg to give him a different angle. The sounds of his low moans was the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard before.
Pushing your hips back you try to meet each of his thrust. You moan his name desperately wanting to find your release. The coil in your stomach tightens as you get closer and closer to finding your release.
“Are you on the pill?” he finally speaks. He sounds like a man on the brink of desperation.
“Yes, I trust you.” You knew if he wasn’t clean he wouldn’t do anything that could hurt you.
His pace picks up and you whimper his name feeling a warm wave wash over. Your release leaves you feeling electric. His thrust grow to be sloppier as he chases his own release. He thrust one last time before finding his own release inside you.
As you both ride out your highs you laid there naked wrapped up in each other’s arms and you couldn’t help but wonder if suddenly everything had changed between the two of you.
-
You laid in Hyunjin’s bed naked and wide awake. Your mind seemed to be in a million places wondering if what had happened was a mistake. Hyunjin wasn’t in the best frame of mind when he asked you to come back. You wondered if maybe you took advantage of Hyunjin's state of mind. You knew that he was the one who initiated the whole thing, but suddenly you felt guilty. Glancing over at the alarm clock that was on the nightstand by where Hyunjin was sleeping you saw that it was almost seven in the morning.
Closing your eyes you attempted to get a little more sleep. The feeling of the bed moving next to you, let you know that Hyunjin was waking up. Looking over at him you found him looking over at you.
He reached over and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and you couldn’t help but give him a soft smile.
“I have to head home to shower and stuff,” you said softly as you started to sit up.
He reached out and grabbed your hand stopping you from standing up, “please stay, you can showers here.” His eyes looked at you like he was pleading with you to stay.
“Okay, I’m gonna take shower,” you reached down on the floor and grabbed you dress you had been wearing the night before. You felt suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were naked. You pulled your dress on and headed off to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom.
You had been in here only once before, the bathroom was decent sized. Against the wall was a walk in shower that had a light blue shower curtain. The bathroom sink was scattered with some face products and a razor. His toothbrush was in a little cup by the faucet. You reached into the cupboard under the sink where you knew Hyunjin kept spare towels, from the one only other time you had been in his bathroom. Walking over you slid the glass doors open and turned the water on. Stripping off the dress you wore, you stepped into the shower. The warm water was relaxing as you tried to not think about what was going on between you and Hyunjin.
You were alone standing under the warm water for only a short time when the curtain was pulled back and the sliding glass door opened. A very tired looking Hyunjin stepped into the shower with you. His presence captured your full attention. You stood there about a foot apart, both completely silent. You weren’t even sure what you should say to him.
“I need you right now,” he rasped with his voice sounding shaky.
Slowly you nodded your head.
“How do you need me?” You weren’t sure if he meant physically or mentally, but it didn’t matter because you planned on being there for him no matter what.
“I need you to be there for me,” he sounded as if he was on the verge of tears.
“I’ll always be there for you,” you said softly as you reached out. You laced your fingers with his and gently pulled him closer to you so he was standing under the water with you. He dropped your hand and pulled you into his chest under the water. He clung to you as if he let go of you, you would disappear. You rub his back whispering that you were always going to be there for him. He pulled away from you and reached up and rested his hand on your cheek. His warm eyes were sad as he stared at you. Slowly he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a searing kiss. Your lips move together and you open your mouth to deepen the kiss. Your lips parted and he rested his forehead against yours with a sigh. He stepped away from you and reached for his body wash. You stood under the shower and watched as he rubbed the citrus scented body wash across his tone body. You felt dizzy staring at him, nothing felt real as you stood there. Moments ago you shared a kiss, naked in the shower and now you stood under the water watching him shower.
“I have to stop by work today, can you go check on Changbin for me?” He asked, stepping towards the shower.
You nodded and stepped away so he could fully step under the warm water. You showered together for a little while longer before you both got out and got ready for the day. You dressed in your clothing for the night before and braided your wet hair so it wouldn’t be in your face. You left the apartment together and as you got to your car Hyunjin stood by your door for a moment before he leaned down to give you a gentle kiss.
Your mind seemed to be racing with a million questions. You weren’t sure what last night meant for the two of you, but you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to ask him.
-
Entering the hospital room Changbin was staying in you found him flirting with his nurse and you couldn’t help but shake your head. Even with a badly broken arm and completely bruised up with a bad road rash Changbin couldn’t help but flirt with a pretty girl. Sitting down in the chair by the window you watched as the nurse checked his vitals. As the nurse left, shutting the door, Changbin looked over at you and smirked.
“Did you take care of Hyunjin?”
Slowly you nodded. You could tell by Changbin’s tone that he knew something happened. Changbin knew Hyunjin better than anyone, and he also could always read you like an open book.
“Did he finally man up and make a move?” You knit your eyebrows together trying to process what he meant. “You’re silence lets me know something happened between the two of you,” he chuckled.
You rubbed your face knowing that everything between you and Hyunjin was very complicated. You weren’t even sure what had exactly happened between the two of you.
“We had sex,” you let out an embarrassed sigh.
“That’s not exactly shocking to anyone who knows the both of you,” he shrugged. “There’s obviously been something between the two of you for a while. It’s not exactly normal to go around sharing a bed with your friend. I know you have liked Hyunjin for a while, and I think he’s liked you a lot longer than he’s realized.”
You rubbed your temples trying to process everything Changbin was saying to you. You didn’t know how Changbin was so sure that Hyunjin liked you, when you didn’t know if he did.
“We haven’t even talked about our feelings,” you sighed. “Last night he was in a rough place, he was really worried about you…” you hesitate because it felt so strange that you were discussing this with Changbin of all people. “I left his place because he was acting like he didn’t want me around, and before I could even get to the elevator he texted me and asked me to stay.”
“And then you just fell into bed with him?” Changbin asked with a raised brow.
“Basically, he took me to his room and we didn’t talk much, it just kind of happened.”
He nodded his head and smiled, “he cares about you a lot, doll, and he trusts you.”
“He told me this morning he needs me to be there for him,” you said softly thinking about your shower you shared with him.
“Then I need you to be there for him. Hyunjin’s my best friend and basically my brother, but doll right now he needs you more than anything.”
“Is this your way of saying you approve of us being together?” You asked with a soft laugh.
He let out a laugh and smiled, “I’m team you and Hyunjin all the way. I think you two will be a way less annoying couple then Jisung and Jihyo.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, “thank you Changbin.”
“No problem doll.”
After you talked to Changbin you headed off to work for a little while before heading home. While you were at work you texted Hyunjin to check on him. He barely texted you back other than saying he was okay. You that when you actually talk it should be in person not over text.
Later in the evening Jihyo came home from work and knew right away something had happened between you and Hyunjin.
“You okay (Y/N)?” She asked. From the first time Hyunjin came over and shared a bed with you, Jihyo knew how much you liked him. You told you had feelings for him, long before you could even admit to yourself you did.
Nodding you said, “yeah I’m fine, I’m just worried about Hyunjin right now.”
“Okay sweetie,” she patted you on the back gently.
The two of you spent the evening sitting in the living room watching romantic comedies together and having some much needed girl time. As it got later Jihyo went to bed and you sat on the couch staring at your phone. I knew you needed to text Hyunjin, he wasn’t the only person who needed someone.
(Y/N): I need you.
You sent the text and couldn’t help but wonder if you should've texted something else. That text made you sound quite desperate, but you honestly kind of were. You need to talk to Hyunjin and see him in person.
Your phone vibrated bringing you out of your thoughts.
Hyunjin: I’ll be there in five.
Five minutes later there was a knock on the door and you opened it to find Hyunjin standing on the other side. You reached down for his hand and led him towards your bedroom. Silently you laid down and Hyunjin laid down next to you and stared at you.
“What’s going on between us?” You whispered afraid that he was going to reject your feelings.
“I don’t know at the moment, but I know I like you a lot,” his voice was soft.
“Do you see me as just a friend?” You couldn’t help but still be nervous.
He shook his head, “I want more with you.”
“Okay, because I really want more than just these late night texts,” you were putting your heart on the line. It’s now or never, he needs to know how you feel.
“I can give you more,” he whispered.
“I’m not asking to be your girlfriend or anything, but I wanted more.”
“Would love to take you out and try to have a real relationship that is more than us cuddling at night,” he gave her a soft smile.
“I hope that means I can still text you in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep,” you asked, causing him to let out a soft laugh. “You know Changbin knew we slept together without me even saying anything?”
Hyunjin rolled his eyes and shook his head, “that doesn’t surprise me at all.”
You soon fell asleep in Hyunjin’s arms and woke up to knock on your bedroom door and Jihyo asking if you and Hyunjin wanted breakfast.
You, Hyunjin, and Jihyo and breakfast together sitting at the kitchen table. Jihyo couldn’t help but comment about the fact that you two seemed happy together. She noticed immediately that something had happened when you walked out of your bedroom holding hands. There was a sudden shift in your relationship with Hyunjin and it was finally one that didn’t leave you completely confused.
Things between you and Hyunjin seemed to suddenly make sense.
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@bangcrispychannie​ @changbinscypher​ @danyxthirstae01​ @panicatthe-crybaby @seochhj​
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sunnyville36 · 2 months ago
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Takeoff
Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader
Themes: established relationship, *first time for both*, subtle switch dynamics (if you squint)
Warnings: *discussion of body image and weight insecurity*, handjob, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), the lightest degradation
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 2.8k
A/N: This is actually part of a much longer fic I’m working on, but I felt it worked pretty well as a standalone piece and know some don’t love to read the longer stuff, so thought I’d share it as a one-shot! 💜 As usual, always happy to hear your thoughts, and thank you for reading!
>>>
“Do you want to…” he trails off, pulling back but keeping your bodies close and foreheads touching.
Of course you know what he’s implying.  His hands are resting on your waist, his thumbs just barely tucked under the hem of your shirt, rubbing slowly against your skin.  And you want to, you really want to.  You don’t want to disappoint him.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to do e-everything,” you start, feeling that familiar sense of disingenuousness overtaking you.  You talked about much filthier things with Chan over the phone all the time; why did you have to feel so naive and nervous when it actually came time to do something?
Chan’s watching your face intently, and you can see he’s picking up on the thoughts going through your mind.  “Y/n, this is new for both of us.  We can do as much or as little as you want.”
His words, his quiet but confident voice, his body supporting you, they all come together, make you feel safe and respected and loved, and your desire finally breaks through your nerves.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to do everything,” you repeat, more confidently this time, “but I want you.”
He’s pulling you closer again, mouth moving towards yours.  “We’ll stop whenever either of us wants to, okay?”
“Okay,” you respond, and then he’s kissing you again, even more desperate than before.  You return the kiss with equal fervor, parting your lips and feeling his tongue explore your mouth.  He reaches one hand up to your neck, pulling away from your lips and moving to mouth at your jaw and throat.  A breathy sigh escapes you when you feel his teeth nip slightly, sucking on your skin, butterflies exploding in your stomach knowing there will be physical signs of him on you tomorrow.  You decide you need more, pushing him back from you slightly and bringing your hands to the bottom of his shirt.  “Can I?”
“Yes,” he says quickly, raising his arms for you to lift his shirt over his head.  Finally, finally, your hands are on his bare chest, and it takes everything in you not to scream at how beautiful he is.  You want to touch every inch of his skin, but settle for bringing your mouth to the dip above his collarbone, leaving wet kisses and relishing the softest of moans your boyfriend is making at the touch.
Chan’s hands find their way to the hem of your shirt again, and he brings his head down to yours so his lips are near your ear as he whispers, “Can this come off too?”
You stifle a gasp.  In your eagerness, you managed to forget he would want to do the same, and the nerves are creeping back inside your mind.  But you don’t want to give into them, you want to keep going, so you breathe out a “yes.”
You break away from him and raise your arms, Chan easing the loose shirt off you gently.  This is the most undressed you’ve ever been in front of someone, and your hesitation is growing, but Chan's pressing gentle kisses to your chest, distracting you from thinking too much.  “I’m gonna take my pants off now, if that’s okay?” he whispers.  And god do you want him to, so you nod.  Instinctively, you feel like you should probably do the same, mind working on auto-pilot as you unzip your jeans and pull them down your legs, stepping out of them and looking up again.  You’re greeted with the sight of your gorgeous boyfriend, his lithe, toned body clad in only tight boxer-briefs, not leaving much to the imagination.  You’re nearly salivating at this point, until you notice him staring at you as well.
You’ve never been super comfortable with your body.  Over the years you’ve grown to not be so self-conscious about your weight or your imperfect skin.  But seeing the nearly perfect form of Chan, who has pretty much every quality you find attractive in a man, is making you hyper-aware of all the things you’re still insecure about: your large chest, your thicker thighs and soft tummy.  All things at odds with his own appearance, and you can’t help but wonder what he sees in you.  The man in front of you is looking at you like you’re the most perfect person he’s ever laid eyes on, and he tells you you're beautiful every chance he gets, but the negative voice in your head tells you it’s all just an act, a mean trick to get you to strip your walls down only to be told you’re not good enough.  Your breath hitches, and Chan is on you in an instant, arms pulling you close as you bury your face in his neck.
“Y/n, baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, and his voice is so full of concern it makes you want to cry.  “We can stop, all you have to do is say the word and we’ll stop, angel.”
You’re so frustrated with yourself, you can barely get the words out.
“N-No I - … I don’t want to stop I-I just… “  Your voice is so small when you finally ask, “Why do you want to do this with me?”
Chan tenses around you, and you curse yourself even more.  You’re fucking all of this up.
“What?” he asks, bewildered, looking down at the back of your head still resting on his shoulder.
“I-I mean why… I… I don’t have the perfect body like you a-and I’ve never done any of this before... and you could have any woman you want so…”
Mercifully, he stops your rambling, taking your face in his hands.  “Y/n, I only want you.  I want to do this with you because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.  Because I love your eyes and your hair and your smile; your thighs and your waist and your hands that fit perfectly in mine.  Because you have the kindest heart and the brightest laugh.  Because you’ve built me up countless times when I’m self-conscious about my own insecurities and support me in everything I do.  And if you don’t see in yourself yet how perfect you are, I will tell you and show you and love you until you do see it, just like you do for me.”
Your heart soars at his words, and there are tears in your eyes, but they’re no longer tears of uncertainty.  You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him to you tightly and he reciprocates, nearly crushing you in his hold.
“Thank you, Chris," you whisper.  I love you."
“I love you too,” he says, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
Now that your fears have been assuaged, your need for him is higher than ever.  You unwrap your arms and start to kiss down his body, running your hands along the skin of his chest and abdomen.  He catches your attention, turning you to look at him.  “Hey... that was a lot right there. We don’t have to keep going.  We can stop now if you want.”
“No,” you say, voice confident, “I don't want to stop.  I want to make you feel good, Channie.”
His eyes blow wide at the nickname and his head falls back as you palm him over his boxers.  It doesn’t feel exactly like you expected it would in your hand, but you love the way Chan’s responding to your touch, beginning to strain against the fabric of his underwear and making your confidence rise further.  You bring your lips to his ear, voice dipping low as you murmur, “Can I suck you off, baby?”
He exhales sharply, nodding his head as he says, “Yes… yes please.”
You drop to your knees, face even with his crotch and begin slowly pulling down his underwear.  His hands are gripping your shoulders as his cock springs free, and you feel yourself clench around nothing at the sight.  He’s big, length slightly longer than average, with a single vein running along the bottom to the flushed pink tip.  You place a single kiss over his slit, earning a moan from the man above you, then move your hands to his hips, bringing your mouth to his V-line.  You're not sure exactly if he'll like this, but you know it's what you've always wanted to do. Starting on the right, you lick your tongue from the base to the top of his pelvis, working your way back down with 3 small kisses.  You repeat the same on the other side, and by this time Chan’s hands are tangled in your hair.  You hear him whimper out a “please baby,” and reward him by licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock, finally taking as much of it into your mouth as you can.
The weight of it on your tongue is incredible, and you push your lips further down slowly, feeling the tip hit the back of your throat as your nose brushes up against his hips.  It’s slightly uncomfortable, but you don’t mind the pain when you hear the sinful sound that leaves his mouth.  Pulling back until only the head is on your tongue, you quickly hollow your cheeks as much as possible and slide down to the base again.
“Oh fuck.  Fuck!  Your mouth is like heaven baby, please don’t stop.”
His words spur you on even more, taking him in and out of your mouth as his grip on your hair tightens, and you can’t help but feel proud at how good you seem to be making him feel.  He’s practically whining now, his hips starting to thrust forward the tiniest bit, and the feeling of it is so arousing, causing the wetness between your legs to grow.  You feel Chan’s legs start to shake slightly and hear his voice again, trying desperately to get the words out.  “Y/n, I’m gonna cum, please, let go baby.”
You loosen your lips a little and he pulls out, hands gripping his length, but you curl your hand around his wrist.  You know some people might not want to do this on their first time, but you’d been fantasizing about it for years now.
“I want it in my mouth.”
Your words bring him over the edge, and he gives a slight nod before his hand goes slack and his eyes roll back.  You have just enough time to wrap your lips around him again before he cums, dick twitching slightly in your mouth.  It’s a strange sensation, but so fucking worth it as you raise your eyes to look at him, see him staring at you with the most blissed out expression as you take his cum down your throat.
You remove yourself from him, standing and feeling proud that your legs only wobble a little.  As you swallow, he brings his thumb to your mouth, wiping a drop that had slipped out when you pulled off.  You go to take his finger in your mouth, but he moves his hand to his own lips and sucks the liquid off, a devilish glint in his eye.  You feel yourself soak the rest of the way through your panties at the sight, reaching for him and crashing your lips against his, the taste of him on both your tongues.  He’s backing you towards your bed, fingers fumbling with the clasps of your bra.  He releases them just as your knees hit the edge and you let the straps slip down your arms, your chest exposed.  “You’re so beautiful,” he says before ducking his head and taking a nipple into his mouth, making you gasp.  The warm, wet heat of his tongue around your breast is intoxicating, and you think you would let him do this to you for hours.  He removes his lips from you with a loud pop.  “Can you lie back for me, angel?”
You feel yourself nod, and crawl backwards on your bed, spreading your legs for him to slot himself between them.  Your underwear is still on, but the feeling of his knee rubbing against your clothed heat as he wraps his lips around your other nipple has you moaning, earning a satisfied hum from your boyfriend that only stimulates you more.  He releases your breast, hungry eyes running over you.  “God I love your tits,” he growls, kitten-licking each of your nipples until they’re red and swollen and you’re wriggling in his grasp from how good it feels.  Finally, he moves down your body, kissing you all over until he reaches the apex of your thighs.  “Love these legs too, but I think I’m gonna love this pussy most of all.”
You’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your life, feeling more and more wetness between your legs from his filthy words.  He wraps his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, glancing up at you with a look of silent permission.  You nod, so he begins to gently pull them down your legs, and you feel your cheeks heat up as Chan watches your arousal leak out onto the sheets.
“Shit, Y/n, you’re this wet and I’ve barely touched you.  You get this worked up over sucking cock?  Looks like my baby isn’t such an angel after all.”
You love this, love his perfect balance of the lightest of degradation mixed with admiration.  Love that he’s found just what makes you tick from your late-night sessions over the phone and isn’t holding anything back now that he has you with him.  You feel a pulse between your legs and you whimper, “Please Chris.”
“What is it baby?  You want me to taste you?” he asks, voice just this side of patronizing.  You look at him with wide, pleading eyes and he nods contentedly.  “Well we wouldn’t want all this to go to waste, now would we?”  Then he spreads your folds open with his fingers, brings his tongue to your pussy, and licks.
You’re convulsing against him from the first touch, his other hand reaching up to press your hips to the bed, keeping you in place.  He’s dipping his tongue inside you, and the feeling is like nothing you’ve ever felt while getting off by yourself.  You let out a cry when his nose brushes against your clit, and he catches on quickly, bringing his tongue up to flick over the bud.  You should have known he’d be a fast learner at this too, Chan being good at pretty much everything as it was.  You’re fully grinding against his tongue now, and on one lift of your hips you feel one of his fingers slide inside you, your back arching as it does.  “More… please…” you beg, and he complies, adding a second with no resistance.  His hands are far bigger than your own, meaning his fingers are reaching deeper than you ever have before, filling you so well.  You’re almost crying at this point, the pleasure unlike any you’ve ever experienced, and your boyfriend just keeps going, steadily bringing you to your high.  You feel your legs tense around his head as you throw your own back against the pillow, barely holding in a scream as your orgasm takes over you.
When you finally feel it begin to subside and can open your eyes again, Chan is kneeling between your legs, one finger still slowly pumping in and out of you to ease you down.  “You’re fucking incredible,” you say as you sit up slightly, letting his hand fall to the sheets.  He gives you a smug smile before hissing slightly, and that’s when you see his cock is fully hard again, bobbing against his abs.  You’re excited that apparently eating you out got your boyfriend so riled up he was ready to go again, but you’re emotionally and physically exhausted, and you don’t think you’re in a place to go all the way tonight.  Luckily, neither does he.
“I… uh… don’t think we should go any further tonight, but umm…”  You chuckle silently at the blush that’s climbing up his chest all the way to his face.  “... I would love to feel your hands on me, instead of my own.”
You smile, pulling yourself up on your knees in front of him.  “I would too.”
You finish him off in a few short minutes, your lips never leaving the other’s.  When you’re done, you both decide you need a shower, which you manage to keep surprisingly innocent, washing each other’s hair and giggling while laving loofahs over each other’s skin.  You somehow find the energy to change the sheets, then fall into bed beside him, arms wrapping around one another.
“Thank you for loving me,” Chan whispers, kissing your temple.  “And thank you for being my first.”
“Thank you,” you whisper back, tugging him closer and letting the lure of sleep take you away.
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straykids-asks · 2 months ago
Text
Sex drive
Stray Kids; Bang chan (suggestive/smut)
Word count: 1.2k
Description: Inspired by SKZ-PLAYER ‘Drive’, Relationship, Late night drive on Chan’s motorcyle, Kissing, Hinting towards sex, Petname princess,  Female reader. 
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You gently wrapped your arms around Chan's waist, pressing your body against his back to hold onto him as he started driving. His new motorcycle was brand-new, the sporty yellow shining through the dark night. The sound of the engine breaking through the quiet atmosphere, awakening the world at this late hour.
You could feel his warmth against your front and arms, keeping you comfortable the entire ride. Even though most people were asleep by now, you fully trusted Chan to keep you safe on the road. You could feel Chan breathing, his body pressing against your arm whenever he would breath in. All of this added to how calm you were feeling, how safe you were feeling.
You had stayed with Chan in the studio for a few hours, keeping him company in the late night till he finished the new song he was working on. He always loved having you around, leaning in for a kiss every few minutes that worked as motivation.
You loved being there just as much as he did, you found it fascinating how hard-working he was. How creative he could be while the rest of the world was asleep and dreaming instead.
You loved how easily he could make you get butterflies, turning his head and smirking at you whenever he would record a suggestive lyric. The way his hands would move higher up your leg the later it was getting, the more people would leave the building.
Around 3 am he decided to take you back to the dorms with him, his motorcycle ready to carry you both to your end destination for the day. But you were far from tired this evening, a certain electricity still moving through your body after all the flirty gazes and touches from Chan just minutes earlier.
'We're almost home!', Chan shouted to make sure you could hear him. Instead of replying, you moved your hand over his body to let him know you heard. Chan started breathing a bit faster for a while after, causing you to smile to yourself. The helmet making it impossible for anyone to have seen, keeping it between you and yourself.
The motorcycle came to the halt at the dorms with no one around on the streets. Chan waited for you to get off first before doing anything else. You got off carefully, unclipping the helmet from under your chin and lifting it up with both hands as soon as both your feet were on the ground again. The cold air hit your face, the refreshing feeling after the warmth of the ride causing goosebumps to form on your skin.
A familiar smile came back on your face, your eyes focused on your boyfriend. Chan got off just seconds later, turning the key to turn of the motorcyle, officially putting and end to your first ever ride together. He lifted the helmet off his head in a way that had you gulp, his biceps on display with the motion.
Chan locked eyes with you, never breaking the special connection as he walked up to you. You couldn't help but look him up and down, Chan doing the same as he noticed. His gaze was exactly the same as when you left the company building, the lust in his gaze being hard to ignore.
Chan moved his hand over your lower arm as he got to you, then gently holding your hand as he took a few steps backwards. He leaned against his motorcycle, his touch guiding you to place your hand on his shoulder while his moved to your hip. You giggled at his actions, trying to be so subtle but his gaze already giving him away. You decided to go along with it, giving him the room to show you how he was feeling.
'Shouldn't we go inside, love?', you asked innocently as you started massaging his shoulder gently. 'You must be tired', you continued. Chan's gaze made you feel weak the longer he was staring at you like that, so you moved your head down to avoid his eyes for a moment instead. Chan's fingers moved under your chin, lifting it back up so you would look at him. 'You know I don't get tired easily, baby'.
You giggled a little, licking your lips after before taking half a step closer to him. 'I know...', you responded suddenly much more serious as your mind started wandering to dirty interpretations of his sentence. Chan started caressing your cheek with his thumb, the warmth you felt earlier coming back so easily with two of his hands against your skin. You watched him bite his lip, his eyes now totally fixed on your lips.
'Channie~ tell me what's on your mind', you suggested as your hand moved towards the side of his neck instead. His grip on your hip got stronger with your request, his lips parting to allow him to breath heavier.
'I don't know if I can hold myself back much longer, princess.' Chan using your favourite petname caused a wave of arousal to move down to your core. You felt your cheeks burn up, being way too effected by the confession of your boyfriend. Chan noticed you feeling a little shy about it, overthinking about what the best thing would be to say back to him.
'I'd really like to be close to you like that', he whispered as he tugged some strands of your hair behind your ear. You heart was beating out of your chest, your whole body full of electricity at the thought of him probably having fantasized about it a lot this past month.
'But if you're not ready we-', you stopped Chan in his sentence mid way by gently pressing a finger to his plump lips for a short second. Your hand moved up his neck pretty quickly, your fingers playing with his earlobe. You leaned in closer, but still far away enough to look into his eyes. You could see him struggle to keep them fully open as the attention on one of his sweet spots continued.
'I want you to show me', you replied without any of your actions coming to a halt. You watched him gulp, causing you to look down to his jeans for a split second in a teasing way. Chan's bulge was more visible than earlier at the company, his blue ripped jeans hugging him a bit too tightly now.
'Show me what you've been holding back', you whispered against his skin. As soon as the words slipped past your lips, Chan eargerly moved in the last inch to kiss you hungrily. His hand moved from your hip to your ass, pushing you against him. Your core started throbbing as you felt his bulge press against your own body, the kiss deepening quickly.
Chan only broke the kiss for a quick moment, desperate kisses inbetween every other word. 'Are you sure you want to?', he whispered sounding completely out of breath. You bit your lip in responds, answering just seconds later. 'Never been more sure of anything'.
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yyxgin · 4 months ago
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lee felix’s guide to hating you
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— ♡ FIC BANNER MADE BY THE AMAZING @chogiwow !!
pairing: lee felix x fem!reader genre: college au, tutor au ; fluff, angst, slice of life, slow burn word count: 21 k warnings: mentions of alcohol, mention of weed, swearing, bad family relationships
a/n: this story is very briefly inspired by jaemin’s drama ‘the way i hate you’ :) also this idea has been in my mind for such a long time, so i’m happy i finally managed to write it. this is also my longest fic so far, i hope it’s worth it. uhh yea enjoy <3
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taglist: @feyregels​ @missskzbiased​ @hyunyin​ @koishua​ @crispy-chan​ @rindomo​ @soulssung​ @thatrandomoneinthecorner​ @90shermione​ @chogiwow​ @creatichee​ @freckledberries​ @hyunnies-stars​ 
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There’s a list of things Lee Felix knew before applying for college-- and that is: 1) he really, desperately needs a degree for his grandparents to value him as an equal adult, 2) college in young adult movies seems like fun and partying and alcohol really does sound like his wettest dream, 3) he doesn’t need to work for another 4 years, which is fun and 5) he is really, horribly bad at studying.
Here’s a list of things Lee Felix, however, did not know before applying for college, and even though it’s fairly shorter, it hits you in the guts deeper, and that is: 1) studying for college means never ending chapters of insomnia and 2) he is always going to feel like the second choice for everyone. 
You see, girls don’t like Felix that much. Well, that’s a lie-- girls do go after him, tell him he’s cute and his freckles are adorable, but that’s only after they find out there’s no use in chasing after his best friend Han Jisung when he gets himself a new significant other. Boys don’t go after Felix either. Why, you may ask? Read the paragraph over again-- just change the word girls to the word boys. It’s as simple as that. He’s always the second choice, the back-up plan. It feels silly to drag his grandma into this, really, but the truth is, he’s a second choice in every aspect of his life, and that, too, includes his big (and still growing) family that treats him as something less than a human just because of the fact that his grades aren’t as good as his cousin’s are and he doesn’t have a degree in biological science, although he’s too young for that and his college years only started. It’s hard, living in his shoes.
What is Felix, however, really good at? 
Cheating.
Yeah, well, you see-- it’s not funny to be the outcast of the smart Lee family and it’s also not enetaining in the slightest to be the only single one at family gatherings (read as: weddings, because every single one of his relatives decided to fuck up their life with marriage in the past three years for some unknown reason). So Felix does what he’s the best at, and that is going by his favorite life motto: fake it ‘til you make it. 
He cheats on every single one of his exams and believe me when I tell you he’s the top of the class just because he’s the best cheater in town. Good cheating techniques equal good grades and suddenly, Felix’s life seems much brighter when he spends his sleepless nights with creating cheat sheets instead of studying and copying essays written in korean, translating them to english and submitting them as his own because no one will ever notice-- his degree is within the reach of his hand and he can already feel all the grandmas of the family clapping in joy, maybe even wiping away a stray tear on his graduation ceremony in a few years with bouquets of flowers in their hands and expensive watches in their gift bags, ready to welcome him back into the family.. 
What he doesn’t expect, though, is the cute little saying of ‘every lie has short legs’ he swears he heard sometimes in his linguistic class before, coming to life right in front of his eyes as the professor of his Biology class makes him the assigned tutor of the sweet Y/N Y/L/N, because, well, he clearly doesn’t know anything-- what’s he supposed to tutor now? 
The best cheating techniques?
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The freckled boy sitting in front of you looks at you with furrowed brows and you wonder what’s the matter with him. Is there something on your face? Are you not dressed appropriately for the occasion? I mean, it’s only a tutoring session, so you didn’t put that much effort into it, but judging from the casual outfit enveloping his body, he didn’t really try to look fancy either. So what was it with him that made him stare you down as if you had horns on your head?
“Shall we start?” he asks once he’s done staring, voice sounding determined. You wonder if he sees the hints of nervousness on your face and if he notices the way you shrink in your seat in the mention of biology, but you guess he doesn’t know you that well to know that you fear the subject as much as you fear dying. 
“Yeah, sure,” you nod, scooting closer to the edge of your seat so you’re not so far away from the table. Felix-- your new biology tutor-- is sitting opposite of you and it’s quite difficult to read the text book once it’s upside down, but you don’t dare to mention it to him for a reason that’s unknown to you as well. It’s like you don’t want to overstep any invisible boundary on your first tutoring session, and telling the person that is teaching you to turn around the text book so you can actually see and learn something seems to be one of the taboos in your eyes. 
You take a quick glance at the waiter that just stopped next to your booth and smile, opening up your mouth to order yourself a meal. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks.
“No-” Felix offers her with a shy smile, but you cut him off with a voice a little higher in the octaves, not wanting your tutor coming in between you and reaching your biggest goal you’ve set for yourself.
“Actually, yes. Could I please get the chicken wings? With fries?” you ask, trying to look as innocent as you can, smiling at her in politeness. You ignore the confused look Lee Felix is offering you from the other side of the table. You mentally send him a signal to tell him to mind his own business, watching the waitress leave with a nod and a polite smile. 
“Okay, now we can start,” you nod at him and focus all your attention to the boy with sandy hair in front of you.
“O...kay?” he answers, obviously trying to bat away his rising confusion, because ordering yourself chicken wings on your tutoring session is prohibited now, apparently. “So,” he starts, sighing and scratching the back of his neck, “what do you not understand from this section?” 
You nervously chew on the bottom of your lip. Well, that’s a sweet question, you think. It would have been much sweeter and much easier to answer, though, if you understood at least a bit from the things you’re supposed to know. You went to university with the urge to prove something to yourself, but the only thing you’re proving to yourself right now is the fact that you are actually kind of useless, when it comes to biology.
“Just like the… whole thing, actually,” you nod, trying not to look as defeated as you feel and also trying not to burst out in a manic laugh as you always do when you feel slightly nervous about anything.
“Cool, cool, yeah,” he nods, taking a deep breath in, turning the textbook around and sighing, “I don’t think I can help you with that.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” you ask, confused. 
Lee Felix is the top of the grade. He is the best at biology, he is the best at chemistry, he is the best at his farmacy class. You’re sure he’ll be a fine biochemist in a few years, when his college times are over. Lee Felix is the smartest boy in your biology class and you are, coincidentally, quite the opposite on this spectrum. Which is exactly why your teacher managed to make Felix tutor you in his free time. You weren’t surprised at the fact that the blonde boy agreed to this-- he was quite the sweetheart, really. All the girls in your class fawned upon the way his freckles shined in the sunlight and the way he opened the doors for older professors. He was quite the boy you would want to introduce to your parents. Not quite the one every girl goes after, but the one that you would want to settle down with after your college years are over.
So why is he, the sweet, but also smart boy that agreed to tutor you, now telling you he can’t help you?
“It’s just.. I’m not really good at this section, I mean-”
“Felix, you’re the top of the class. Of course you’re good at this section.” you mumble, gazing deep into his eyes, trying to search for an answer.
“I-” he says and takes a sharp breath in, stopping himself in continuing his train of thought and just opting to shrug, not giving you a proper response either.
You feel like someone just punched you in the gut, and that’s when you realise-- here it is again. Another person that doesn’t believe in you-- another person that needs proving that you really can do it, you just need a little push. You can see it in his eyes that he doesn’t think you’re smart or bright enough to pass the exams, you’re not good enough to get good grades. It’s nothing new to you, but it still haunts you just the same.
“Is it because you know I can’t do it?” you bluntly ask, sighing. 
“No! No, no, I never said that-” he says, almost panicking with the way his hands fly into the air hurriedly, waving them around as if it was meant to calm you down. 
“You’re acting like it, though. I promise I’m not stupid- well, maybe I am, but-”
“You’re not stupid! It’s me! I’m the stupid one here.” he says, effectively silencing you with his words as you stare at him, dumbfounded. He’s joking, right?
“How can you be stupid when you get only the best grades? Felix, if you just don’t want to waste your time here, tell me, but don’t try to hide behind poor excuses.” you roll your eyes, feeling frustrated at the boy’s antics. Does he really think you’re that stupid that you can’t see right through his lies?
“I cheat.”
You blink a few times as if to reset your brain, gazing at him with pure confusion written in your orbs. He cheats? No. That’s a lie. A person as good at biology as Felix can’t cheat. All his exams are on 100% and he never makes any mistakes. He’s the epitome of the smart kid. The little Einstein. The prodigy. There’s no way it’s all cheating.
“No.” you shake your head in disapproval. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying! Look, I genuinely, really want to help you. I really do. The thing is, though, I don’t know how to study. I make cheat sheets and I use them at every exam and every test, that’s why everyone thinks I’m super smart, but that is really not the case,” he shakes his head, staring into your eyes with his wide open in honesty, wanting you-- no,-- needing you to understand. “I would tutor you if I could, really, but I just don’t know how to,” he sighs finally, acting like he’s just given birth or ran a marathon, exhaustion written all over his face.
“So why did you offer to tutor me, then?” you ask.
He takes a moment for himself to collect his thoughts, before he speaks up again. “Well, I didn’t really want to get caught. You see, I would never turn my back to anyone. Really. So I thought I could at least try to learn something? So I could help you? But I failed, as always, so I’m just coming clean in front of you and you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
The moment the last sentence leaves his mouth, you notice the apparent fear in his eyes, realising that he just shared an information with you that nobody really knows. It’s a secret he’s been hiding and keeping from everyone just to appear as the smartest one-- fooling everyone, including you. You feel even more stupid now, under his gaze. You feel played. You came to the tutoring, hoping to finally get a grip, when all you get is a person that is stepping all over the sandcastle of your fragile dreams, kicking every little piece of sand away with his lies. You know you shouldn’t feel so invested in this. You shouldn’t feel so hurt. But somehow, you still do. 
“So you just told me you are lying to everyone and cheating on tests and you want me to keep it a secret from everyone?” you ask in disbelief.
“Yes.” he nods, eyes hopeful. He’s been lying for the last year as if his life was depending on it and now he wants you to do the same-- keep quiet in front of everyone.
“And what do I do when the professor asks me why I’m not getting any better? Huh? Ever thought of that?” you leash out, harshly chewing on your bottom lip in nerves. “I want to pass. And I want to do it fair and square.” you get out in between your teeth.
“I didn’t… I didn’t think of that yet, but-”
“Leave.” you say, looking him sternly into his eyes.
“What do you mean, leave?”
“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. And you’re clearly not here to teach me anything, so you can just take your things and leave.” you spit out, crossing your hands over your chest.
“You leave, then,” he mutters, looking rather offended. You’re not sure why he’s the one hurt right now, but you guess that’s just how men and their egos are, there’s nothing more under his hurt eyes and shattered self-esteem.
“I ordered food, I’m not leaving.” you calmly respond. Once you say this, you’re reminded of the little quest you made for yourself. Never once did you feel silly for taking it so seriously in front of your other friends, but now, in front of Lee Felix with freckled dusted cheeks, you feel almost invisible as you realise why you even ordered the chicken wings and how you’re going to write a yelp review about them later.
Well, someone has to do it, and if not you, then who will, right? It’s the only valid way to find out who makes the best chicken wings in the town and not even your traitor-tutor is going to stop you now, when your list is only getting shorter and shorter. 
He stares at you for a few moments, dumbfounded, before he sighs and accepts his defeat. “Okay, I’ll just have to text my roommate to pick me up,” he admits.
You nod, just in time the server comes back with your food, offering her a welcoming smile. “Fine. But don’t even think of talking to me from now on. I’m not interested in more lies,” you spit at him, scowling as you take a look at the plate of chicken wings sitting in front of you in their full glory. You sense a very bad review, judging from the way the chicken wings look nothing like wings, rather full on small chickens dipped in oil, but dive in nonetheless. 
“Why do you have to be so dramatic?” he asks, voice coated in disbelief.
“Because I was scammed!” you yell out, mouth full of chicken, not caring a second about the way you might look in the boy’s eyes. Yes, you could have at least swallowed before speaking to him, but did you do it? No. No, you didn’t. 
“Oh come on-”
“Don’t even try arguing with me!” you spit at him-- quite glad that this time, it’s not literal-- and huff out in annoyance, when the door opens and a short boy with a bucket hat on steps into the bistro, the red fabric of the seats of the booths contrasting with his shoes in a way that makes you feel captivated, your eyes refusing to tear themselves away from him. 
The boy is taking quick steps to your booth and you almost choke on your chicken wings as you admire his full glory-- tanned skin and car keys in his hand, but his eyes meet the boy sitting opposite of you and that’s when everything clicks. This is not the boy of your dreams, this is Han Jisung. Your tutor’s best friend and roommate-- also known as the resident heartbreaker. You shouldn’t feel weak in your knees when you look at him, but that’s exactly what happens and you won’t feel ashamed about it. Well, not now, at least. In a few hours when you’re lying in your bed? Maybe. But I’ll tell you then.
“Yo, dude, I texted you like five minutes ago that I’m waiting for you outside, what are you still doing here?” he asks, furrowing his brows at his roommate and slowly moving his eyes to you, scanning you up and down, leaving your heart to do the stupid cartwheel you haven’t felt since, like, middle school. 
“We were in the middle of an argument, so I didn’t hear my phone ring.” Felix answers, glaring at you with spiteful eyes. You almost prepare to kill him with yours, but you focus on wiping the oil from the corner of your mouth and smiling heavenly, trying to look like a lady in front of your new visitor.
“Was Felix being absolutely unbearable again?” he asks you, surprising you with his subtle way of engaging you into the conversation.
You giggle, rolling your eyes slightly. “Yeah. You know him too well, don’t you?”
“Unfortunately,” he admits, looking defeated, when he moves his eyes to Felix, looking rather sulky on the red seat in front of you as you chat with his roommate, when Jisung’s tone of voice changes into a more worried one, speaking up again, “does she… did you…?”
“Yeah,” Felix just nods. 
Jisung sighs, sitting down next to his roommate, pushing him a little so he has more space in the booth. “What are you supposed to tutor her anyway?” he asks.
“Biology,” you mumble sooner than Felix gets the chance to speak up, motioning to the textbook still sitting at the table in front of you. 
The boy takes a look at the papers, his face changing from a focused one to a one more lighter, his eyes scanning the papers with ease. You notice his mouth moving a little as he reads the words under his breath, catching yourself from staring when you feel Felix’s eyes burning into the crown of your head, snapping you back to reality. 
“You know… maybe I could help you with that.” he says, looking like a business offering you a deal that you’re sure involves something illegal. He looks like a focused squirrel with his cheeks puffed out a little in what you sense is pride, something in his eyes glowing as you nervously chew on your bottom lip.
“Really?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m actually quite good at biology, to be honest. Well, not as much as Felix over here-” he jokes, scowling when the blonde boy punches his arm, “but I think I could tutor you a thing or two.”
“What’s the catch?” you ask, nervously watching him. Something in his composure is telling you he’ll want something in return, but you don’t know what yet. You’re quite sure you’ll sell your soul for the adorable boy in front of you if he asked you to, but it never hurts to ask beforehand, right? 
“What do you mean, what’s the catch?”
“Like… what do you want in return?” you muse out, taking a bite of a fry, noticing how soggy it feels under your teeth.
“Woah, you spend 15 minutes with Felix and you already think there’s something illegal behind everything? I’ll let you know, I’m better than that.” he scoffs. “I’m just doing it because I see how miserable you are. And I also don’t want you to tell on my buddie over here.” he adds, smiling warmly.
You take notice of the way Felix’s eyes grow twice their size and how Jisung’s knee lightly bumps into his under the table. It’s subtle, but you think that maybe this is when you fully fell for the short boy in front of you-- when he offered to save his best friend’s ass by helping out a lost girl with biology. And who are you to say no now? I mean, you need the tutoring nonetheless. Who cares if the boy tutoring you is someone else? Maybe it’s even more appealing to you this way, but you’ll never admit that out loud.
“Okay then, sure.” you nod, grinning from ear to ear, feeling satisfied.
“Great. Now, give me half the fries and we can arrange our next tutoring session,” he smiles, “oh, and I’m Han Jisung, by the way.”
He winks. 
You should be disturbed, but strangely, you’re not. You grin back at him, offering him the soggy fries you’re sure you’re going to give a really bad review in the evening, watching his composure change into a more laid-back one, engaging you in a conversation and slunging an arm around his best friend’s shoulders.
Lee Felix remains silent. He feels it once again-- he feels the loneliness of being left out. 
And he’s sure it won’t be the last time.
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Lee Felix knows damn well how it feels to be the third wheel. He’s hung out with Jisung and his potential love interests multiple times, he’s even been on double dates with the said male, yet, he always somehow ends up being left out. So why does it still feel the same? Why does he still feel that restless feeling in his stomach, the emptiness in his chest, just like the first time? I guess you never get used to some things and emotions are one of them. No matter how much you argue that you know a feeling so well it doesn’t even surprise you anymore, it still hurts the same. That’s funny about emotions. Sometimes, they can’t even make you numb.
“Hurry up dude, the bistro closes in an hour and half!” Jisung rushes the taller male (not tall, just taller. Don’t misunderstand.) with his car keys in his hand, twirling them around his fingers in a nervous manner. Felix notices his roommate has put some effort into his outfit today, considering the lemon supreme shirt enveloping his body that he saves only for special occasions, yet, Felix doesn’t realise why he had to put it on when they’re literally just going out to eat some soggy fries in the bistro close to their house. He doesn’t ask, though. He doesn’t want the car key stuck in his forehead. He also doesn’t know why they have to rush so much, since they have an hour and half left before they close, but again, he doesn’t dare to say it out loud. 
Felix quickly puts his shoes on and rolls his eyes at his roommate. “I’m ready,” he announces.
Jisung swiftly takes a bottle of cologne from the table in their small hall (it’s so small they don’t even have a mirror in it, because there was no use in taking mirror selfies when all you can see on the picture is your phone case due to the fact that the room is too narrow for you to move further away) and sprays his body wit hit, efficiently confusing his roommate. “You wanna smell great for the waiter there? Because from what I remember, he was a stoner-”
“Oh, shut up. You never know when you’re gonna meet someone cute, am I right?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear like a cat, taking his backpack with him and opening the front door, “gotta look and smell presentable at all times.”
Felix wonders if this is why everyone always goes after his best friend. 
No, he thinks, it cannot be the cloud of cologne hanging around his body. It’s heavy and it makes Felix cough a little, but he tries to mask it, because he’s fairly sure Jisung won’t pay for his fries today if he doesn’t. And Felix is a simple man-- if he can get something for free, he will do anything to achieve it.
They arrive at the place in a few minutes and Felix can already feel his mouth watering at the thought of the salty fries and cheeseburger he’s going to get himself, joyfully skipping inside the bistro and waiting in the queue. Jisung follows him, standing next to him, efficiently covering the smell of the oil and all the good things on this earth-- read as fast food-- making Felix scowl. The boy behind the register, is, in fact, Na Jaemin-- the resident frat boy. Felix’s heard all about him from the girls staying at the dorms and to be honest, he’s quite glad he doesn’t have to live the stories of getting caught with weed at Jaemin's party on his own. That, and the fact that hot water runs in his apartment. Na Jemin might have the weed, but he surely doesn’t have that in his college dorm room. 
“Three milkshakes, two large fries, chicken wings and a cheeseburger, please.” Jisung orders, confusing Felix in one sentence. Since when is his best friend a bottomless pot for food? Is he really going to eat all of that?
“Coming right at you. Anything else?” Jaemin asks, voice considerate and polite, still turned on his customer service mode, even though Felix is sure him and Jisung have had shared a joint or two on one of his parties before.
“No, that’s all. Thanks, man,” Jisung answers, leaving with Felix right behind him. 
“Who’s gonna eat all of that? I hope you know you’re paying, and before you protest, yes, I did purposefully leave my wallet at home-” he rambles, still moving, when his train of thought is cut off by a person in his view.
You are sitting there in your full glory, smiling brightly at the boys approaching you. You’re dressed nicely, he notices-- you look like you put some effort into what you’re wearing. You don’t look that much different, but he can still see the slight changes you made to look neat. You’re glowing, Felix notices. You look excited.
“Hi, Y/N,” Jisung greets, taking a seat opposite of you. He doesn’t even give Felix an answer, he doesn’t even give him an explanation. He’s left there only to take a seat next to his roommate after collecting his thoughts, chewing on his bottom lip.
The conversation never moves his way. He is silenced. Felix wonders why he was even invited, watching the people behind the window laughing with their friends, happy to order some tasty food and have fun on this Thursday evening. He watches his friend and his classmate have fun-- well, as much fun as a tutoring session could be. You’re laughing at every single one of Jisung’s jokes and he swears Jisung’s eyes never leave your face, even when he’s explaining something to you. He wonders why Jisung didn’t tell him where they’re going. He wonders why he even had to come.
Lee Felix knows how third-wheeling feels. Yet, it still makes his little foolish heart hurt just the same every time.
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You nervously chew on your bottom lip, cracking your knuckles in a habit your friends always scream at you for, waiting for your tutor-- well, he’s not really your tutor anymore-- to appear in the bistro on the other side of the town. You admire the decorations for a while, liking the way it looks modern here and the purple led lights make the whole place look aesthetic. You can already imagine multiple college kids going here and taking instagram pictures to look cool. It’s nice and you’ll definitely include it in your yelp review-- it won’t make it more stars, though, if the chicken wings don’t taste like heaven.
You tug on the sleeves on your hoodie, as if you were trying to make yourself disappear. I mean, you do feel embarrassing. You feel pathetic that it had to come down to this, but you guess desperate times call for desperate solutions. You’re not here to look put-together anymore. You’re going to show him your full glory and although you regret it a little, you still have a little spark of hope in you that Han Jisung-- the boy you, admittedly, were crashing on real hard right now, won’t find out.
Felix comes into the bistro in his full VSCO boy glory, as always. He is wearing a jean jacket and his freckled cheeks are dusted pink, you’d almost think he’s blushing all the time. He doesn’t quite fit the aesthetics of this futuristic looking bistro, you notice. The retro places you’ve been to so far fit him much more-- his sandy hair contrasted well with the yellow walls and red booths. It was starting to get a little repetitive, though, you must admit.
“Hi,” he greets you as he takes his seat, smiling at you with what you can only describe as a feeling of full uncomfort. You wonder what made him feel this way about you, but you don’t dare to think of it twice as you focus on the main quest of the day-- forcing him to teach you his ways.
“Hello,” you smile. 
Felix notices how natural you look-- it feels like now is the first time he’s seeing you in your full glory. You aren’t wearing your neat clothes for a meeting with Jisung and you’re not too casual like you were at your first ‘tutoring session’ either-- you’re just you. The way he doesn’t even see you in classes. He likes the fact that no one else than him can see you like this-- he likes the fact that Jisung is nowhere around, yet, he wonders why is that, exactly, since the two of you seemed to be hitting it off quite well so far.
Felix hasn’t been with Jisung when he last tutored you. He figured there’s no use, he’s going to get ignored all the time anyway. 
“So… what’s the matter?” he asks, folding his hands into his lap. He dares to take a quick look at you, noticing your worn-out shirt and dark circles under your eyes, worry washing over him. Did something happen? Was Jisung a jerk to you? 
“Well, I sort-of have a little problem,” you mumble out, tearing your gaze away from him. You seem shy for the first time in front of him and he wonders why. He doesn’t understand your sudden change of behaviour. This isn’t the you he’s used to. “Well, turns out, I am really stupid.” you propose, leaving Felix to gaze at you in surprise.
He chuckles. You swiftly look up at him with piercing eyes telling him to stop, and he almost does, but your face looks too adorable when it’s scrunched up like that, so he only giggles once more. “You’re not stupid.”
“I am!” you whine out, finally letting your whole shy facade fall, exposing the true you once again right in front of Felix’s eyes-- direct and fierceful. “Even Jisung’s tutoring isn’t helping and I feel so stupid with him! And I don’t want him to think that I’m stupid, even though I am, and I just… I can’t pass my exams like this, so I need your help.” you say, eyes big, looking almost pleading.
“And I am supposed to help… how? Exactly?” The confusion is written all over his face, and it almost makes you frustrated. You knew he must be smart, if his cheating has been so good he’s getting through college with straight As, but really, is he really that smart if he can’t read in between the lines?
“Help me cheat.” you quickly get out, biting down on your lower lip just as you say it, as if you were regretting it.
The silence that overtakes the two of you feels like it’s slowly going to eat you up alive, angrily biting into your skin. It feels heavy and suffocating, your palms sweating as you watch Felix blink at you with mouth agape, breathing in and out. You pray for him to make up his mind soon, or else you’re going to run out of the bistro without a yelp review, tearing the skin of your cuticles as you see him blink quickly a few times before shaking his head in disbelief, clearing his storage.
“You want me to help you cheat?” he asks for clarification, furrowing his brows at you.
“That’s correct.” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You haven’t been this nervous since you took your college entrance exams, and that shows a lot, considering you used to say that has been the most difficult experience of your life so far.
“Because Jisung…. isn’t tutoring you well enough?” he asks again, making you roll your eyes in annoyance.
“Hey, don’t put the blame on Jisung! I’m just stupid, that’s all.” you say, looking down into your lap, because his gaze suddenly feels like he’s judging you and you really don’t feel like maintaining eye contact with him when you’re under pressure.
“If you don’t stop saying that, I will kick you.”
“You wouldn’t dare-”
“I would and I will-”
“Okay, but is that a yes, then?” you look up at him with hopeful eyes, resembling a puppy just a little too much, and, well, Felix can’t just reject you now, can he?
“I.. guess…?” he says, watching your face light up in joy as you clap a few times in excitement. 
“Great! Can we start today? We have to start today! I brought my text books and papers and sharpies and-” you are cut off by Felix’s face lighting up at the sight of you, his eyes looking warm and admiring. You quickly shake away the excitement before it goes too far and you actually go to hug him or something, taking a deep breath in and out to calm yourself down.
Just in that moment, the server appears with two servings of chicken wings and two large fries, making Felix look at you in confusion. 
“I ordered you food, since I thought we’ll stick around for a while..” you mumble, seeing him eagerly nod and take one fry into his hand, biting down on it with a face full of pleasure. 
“Perfect. Just let me eat a few of these and we can get right into work, I promise,” he mutters with a mouth full of food, prompting you to take a bite yourself. It doesn’t taste the worst-- the bistro you went to after prom last year was definitely worse than this, but still, you don’t think Felix’s face quite resembles how the food tastes. He looks as if the Queen of England made it. In reality, it’s just a soggy fry. 
“Why do you always order the same thing? Aren’t you tired of eating the same thing over and over again?” he asks suddenly, examining your face with real interest. No one’s ever noticed your eating habits before, just shrugging off what you order every single time. Your little fast food experiment has been a secret so far, even though it wasn’t that hard to cover it up-- nobody really cared until now. 
You feel blush creeping on your cheeks as you shrug, feeling a little embarrassed for like the hundredth time today, when you reply to the boy in front of you. You know his secret, so it only feels valid for him to know yours. “I have this experiment… like, I try chicken wings and fries at every single bistro, restaurant and fast food chain in the town to find out which one’s the best…” you mumble, looking into your plate instead of facing him out of the ugly feeling of patheticness creeping up your back.
“Oh, that’s cool!” he exclaims, pointing his fry your direction, a response you didn’t quite expect, “Where do they have the best ones so far?” he asks, genuine interest painting his features.
“Oh,” you get out, feeling your lips unvoliteraly tug into a smile, “I don’t.. I still have a few bistros and the McDonald’s on the highway out of the city left, but I’d say the best ones so far were at Wendy’s. I didn’t quite like the chicken wings there, though, so…”
“Hmm,” he nods, deep in thought, “we just get food at where’s the closest.” he says, munching on a chicken wing. “I guess we could pay a little more attention to the food from now on, because after eating this, I’m never going to eat the food from the bistro right in front of our flat again.”
“Yeah, that bistro’s really awful. I only gave it around 2.5 stars, I think-” you say, before you realise you just spilled out another secret to him, feeling your cheeks heating up. 
“2.5 stars? What, do you write yelp reviews or something?” he asks, clearly amused by your accidental spill-out.
“And what if I do?” you defend yourself, glaring at him with fake annoyance. No man will ever make fun of you because you write yelp reviews. Not Lee Felix, even though he seems too nice to actually make fun of you because of something, not anyone. 
“That’s cool, though! Those help so much when you travel,” he says, eagerly nodding at you with big eyes and an adorable grin plastered on his face, making you feel understood and happy with just the sudden sign of acceptance. Turns out your little weird obsession isn’t as embarrassing as you thought it was. Or Lee Felix really is the sweetest guy walking on this earth. Either one is fine in your books.
You stay there for a few hours and Felix teaches you the basic cheat codes-- never meet the teacher’s eye, never finish your tests too quickly, always forcefully pick the wrong option before scribbling it out and putting in a correct one to not seem too suspicious. He even takes a piece of paper from you and scribbles down the basic cheat-sheet making structure. 
He feels good with you. He feels useful. He knows he shouldn’t be teaching you this, but really, is it really doing any harm? We all have to go through college somehow.
Yet, all evenings always end the same for Felix, with a bad feeling in his gut and a fake smile on his face hiding the true meaning behind his actions. He’ll never be the first choice and you remind him even today, after you leave the ‘tutoring session’ with a quick hug to the male, lowering your voice so only he can hear when you pay him your goodbyes.
“Don’t tell Jisung, okay?”
Of course. It’s all because you don’t want to look embarrassing in front of his best friend.
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It goes all how you planned it to-- you’re sitting at your next tutoring session with two males in front of you. One of them is your supposed tutor and one of them is a boy that’s helping you pass your exams for real. You’re into one of them, even though you shouldn’t. You wonder how you even ended up in this mess. You swear you were a good student in high school, always submitting your assignments on time and making sure your tests were on 100%. It was kind of fueling your ego, in a way. You had no other plans in your life to hold on to, no dreams to dream, so you reasoned to do the only thing that you were good at-- getting good grades. You had to prove to yourself that there was a reason, a meaning behind your life. You had to prove to yourself that your existence was valid.
You watch Jisung with interest. You pray to god that he doesn’t catch you in your act, because that would surely be embarrassing. You don’t want him to find out that you’re just fine with cheating, because that meant your tutoring sessions with the male would end and there was no other reason for you to see him. You knew Han Jisung wasn’t interested in you. You were sure you’d see it on him if he was. And even then, you weren’t interested in only a short relationship without any good point. You liked Jisung, but you didn’t like his reputation. One week wasn’t long enough for you to waste your time on him and get your heart broken. You weren’t sure if he was a player, or if he just wanted to desperately find the one by trying all the possibilities, but you weren’t going to find out. 
Felix watches you with interest in his eyes-- but you don’t notice. He prays that Jisung doesn’t find out about your secret little ‘tutoring sessions’, because that would mean he wouldn’t have a reason to hang out with you anymore. And Felix really doesn’t want that to happen. For some reason, he doesn’t want you to ever frown. And he’s sure that’s exactly what would happen if Jisung cancelled.
It doesn’t click to him what’s happening inside of his little, foolish heart when he sees you smile at Jisung and his stomach fills with worry. 
It doesn’t click to him what’s happening with him when every time Jisung subtly takes your hand in his makes his insides twitch in frustration. He thinks it’s just because of the fact that he’s third-wheeling again, like all his life, and maybe that is partly true, but it’s not the whole reason behind the cloud around his head.
It clicks only when him and his roommate are back home, sitting at the dinner table with the left-overs from the new bistro you three went to, munching on the chicken wings and another pack of soggy french fries and the cola they had in their fridge.
“So… what do you think about Y/N?” Jisung asks suddenly, making Felix furrow his brows in confusion.
“What should I think? She’s smart, I guess…” he mumbles, mouth full of food, not quite grasping the full meaning of his roommate’s question. 
“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung quickly nods in approval, “she’s getting really good. I mean, you can still see she’s having some troubles when I’m tutoring her, but at least she always gets good grades on tests now,” he says, biting down on another piece of chicken wing. Felix feels a wave of pride wash over him after hearing the words-- of course you’re doing well on exams. It’s all Felix’s doing. You’re a quick learner, when it comes to cheating. 
“Yeah, she’s good,” he says. 
“Well,” Jisung suddenly starts, meaning to sound nonchalantly, but only sounding like he’s determining his biggest life secret in front of his friend instead, “I like her.”
Felix almost chokes on the piece of chicken in his mouth, trying to play it off with a small chuckle. “Oh? You do?”
“Yeah. Should I.. Should I ask her on a date or something?” he asks and Felix swears he can see his friend’s cheeks reddening a little, even though the last time he’s seen Jisung embarrassed was when he accidentally called their Math’s teacher mum in eleventh grade. 
“You don’t date, though,” Felix opposes.
“That’s not true-”
“Two weeks long relationships aren’t relationships, Jisung.” 
“Not my fault they’re never the one! It gets boring after a while, Felix, I can’t just-”
“Why are you even asking me this?” Felix suddenly cuts him off, glaring at him. He doesn’t know why he’s reacting in such a way. It’s not like it’s the first time Jisung is going to date someone for two weeks just to break their heart, it’s not the first time they’re going to run after Felix a week after just so they can still be around the one that broke their heart. This time, though, he does not want to see another heart get broken.
“Jesus, chill, man… I was just asking, since you two seem closer. Did she mention anything about me? Is she dating anyone?” Jisung asks, eyes lighting up.
Felix could be an asshole. He could tell Jisung that you’re already dating someone, he could tell him to back off and that you’re not interested. However, he does not do that. Instead, he does the quite opposite. He pushes his best friend into asking you out, he tells him he should try it, because that’s just the kind of person he is. Besides, he knows you’re into him. Maybe the smile on your face could make him forget about the fact that you’re going to get your heart broken. 
“Sure, go for it.” he shrugs, “I don’t really care anyway.”
“Fine, then-”
“I’m gonna shower.” Felix says, quickly standing up from his chair and moving to the bathroom, quickly escaping the conversation.
Only then he realises what he feeling in his gut means, only then he notices the way his sigh feels like the weight of the world is sitting on his shoulders and he can’t breathe any time you’re around Han Jisung. 
He realises he likes you. 
And clearly, you don’t like him back.
Emotions are something you never quite get used to. Even the emotion of feeling rejection, the emotion of always being behind his best friend’s shadow. Lee Felix is always just the friend. Never the love interest. This time, though, it feels even more heavy, because in a way, you seem way more special in his eyes than the people that went after him just to get with his best friend.
This time, he does not want to see another heart get broken. Because it’s your heart we’re talking about.
And to prevent his heart shattering to even more pieces, he has to do something.
He has to stop liking you.
As soon as possible.
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“Y/N?” 
“Mhhm?” you ask, raising your eyes up from the cheat sheet you’re creating with Felix’s help, the grease of the fries you’re eating glistening on your chin. You’re with him in a yet another crappy bistro, trying yet another soggy fries, and even though there’s nothing special on you to a stranger’s eye, Felix’s heart can’t help but run twice the speed of light. 
“How do you stop liking someone?” he mumbles, furrowing his brows a little, deep in thought. 
“Oh, do you like someone?” you ask, and Felix momentarily lights up at the thought of you caring if he’s interested in someone, but when his eyes meet yours and he notices them glistening and lightening up in curiosity, he realises it’s just because you’re happy for him. As a good friend should be. 
“No, no,” he quickly shakes his head in disapproval, snickering to himself, “I’m just asking. Because, think, what if, hypothetically, there’s someone who is into someone else. Easy, right? But what if their best friend likes the same person? And you know you shouldn’t like them because they’re into their friend as well? What is there to do at that point?” 
You scan his face for a few seconds, thinking to yourself. “Hmm,” you start, “I guess you have to start hating them. So the feelings disappear.” you nod, satisfied with your answer.
“How’s that possible?” he asks, scoffing.
“Well, I don’t know, since it’s all hypothetical anyway,” you giggle, focusing back on your cheat sheet. Your notes are getting smaller and smaller and Felix notices the improvement in your small lettering, making your cheat sheet less noticeable. You’re learning quickly.
“Oh come on,” he whines, kicking your leg under the table, “talk to me. How can a person start hating someone? Give me a tutorial.” 
“Well, since you really need to know,” you roll your eyes, putting away the pen from your hand and resting your back against the seat of the booth, “there are a few steps you can take.”
“For example?”
“Well, you have to stop hanging out with them, first thing’s first.” you start. “Because if you don’t hang out with them, you will eventually hate the fact that they’re not near, which will, logically, make you hate them instead.”
“Is that really logical, though?” Felix asks, furrowing his brows at you. In his books, this made no sense at all, but you seemed pretty satisfied with your answer.
“Of course it is! Then, you have to find something about them that you can hate. Anything. Find even the smallest thing, and blow it up in your mind until you hate it. Easy, right?” 
“...I don’t think that’s helping at all,” he says, tone of voice unsure. 
“Of course it is! You’re just refusing that it can be true, because you think I’m stupid.” you stick out his tongue at him, focusing on your work instead.
He kicks you under the table, making you scowl. “Ow! What was that for?”
“I told you that if you’ll make that comment again, I will kick you. So I just did right that.” he says. “Besides, your ideas are stupid. Not you. There’s a difference in that.” he smartly points out, making you roll your eyes at him.
“So, who is it that you like?”
“No one. I told you, it’s hypothetical.” he glares at you.
“Right,” you nod, sighing, “well, I’ll just stick to that, since that means Jisung doesn’t like anyone and I still have a chance.” you smile at him, obviously missing out on the way your words just punched him into the gut. Felix laughs it out, kicking you in the shin instead.
“Right. Of course you do,” he nods. He wishes he didn’t mean that.
You two remain in silence for a moment, while you get back to your work and Felix pretends he’s playing a game on his phone. You don’t notice the way his eyes scan you over, admiring you, once in a while. No one ever does. He guesses this is the perk of always being just the friend. The one people are friends with just because they want something from him. The one that gets taken advantage of. He chooses not to think about it more. Maybe if he did, he could hate you over it, if he wasn’t so used to that feeling anyway. 
“We should hang out on the weekend,” you say, taking him by surprise.
“Oh?” he mumbles out, “with Jisung?”
“No?” you furrow your brows, “look, I know I look like I’m obsessed with him, but I actually just want to hang out with you alone as friends once in a while, you know.”
“We’re hanging out now, though.”
“It’s midnight, Felix,” you point out, “and we’re working. I want to hang out with my friend, like a normal person, you know.” you shrug.
“Yeah…” he says, when your words resonate in his mind like a broken curse. ‘Don’t hang out with them.’ Don’t hang out with her. You have to hate her. He has to start hating you-- there’s no other way. And so, he turns to taking your words into consideration. He can’t meet with you if he’s not ‘tutoring’ you. There’s no way. “We’ll see. I’ll tell you if I’m free.” he smiles warmly instead, because truth be told, he’ll never tell you no to your eyes. He’s always been a bit of a coward. And he also doesn’t want you to frown. Ever.
“Great!” you smile. 
And when Felix comes home that night, at 2am in the morning when his roommate is already asleep-- not knowing of your secret meetings, he lays down in his bed and repeats your advice like a broken mantra. He can’t like you. He has to hate you.
Lee Felix’s guide to hating you: 1. Don’t hang out with her. Only meet her when it’s necessary. If you don’t meet her, you’ll start hating her absence, resulting in hating her altogether. 2. Find a small thing about her to blow up so much you start to hate it. 
That’s not difficult. He hates that you like Han Jisung. It’s a small mistake, a small flaw, but he’s ready to blow it up so much he hates you for it. He hates that he’s not the first choice. He hates that you don’t like him.
Maybe he would hate you more if you were dating his best friend for real.
Lee Felix’s guide to hating you: 1. Don’t hang out with her. 2. Find a thing to hate about her. SUCCESS! 3. Set her up with Han Jisung.
Now, this plan is bulletproof, isn’t it?
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Felix unexpectedly breaks the first step of his guide only a few days later-- on a chilly friday afternoon, when his body is hurriedly skipping to the edge of the town centre only to meet with you. Just for the record, though, Felix didn’t intend to break the promise he gave to himself. He really wasn’t going to hang out with you if he didn’t specifically need to, but, well… you called Jisung to hang out. Felix’s heart almost skipped a few beats when he was added to a three-person big group chat with you and his roommate and at that point, he wasn’t going to reject an invitation to the fare in town, because he was fairly sure Jisung didn’t like rollercoasters and he wanted to see you laugh your ass off at him in front of everyone. Is it a little spiteful? Possibly. Does he care? Not that much.
Besides, it’s only one time. It will never happen again!!
He finds you with your black leather jacket on, stepping from one leg to the other, looking around like a lost puppy. Felix mentally curses at himself for not coming sooner so you wouldn’t feel so alone and awkward in the mass of people, when he realises he’s already 15 minutes late because of his afternoon class and his roommate is nowhere to be found.
“Thank god! I thought you were going to bail on me as well,” you call out when Felix is close enough, smiling at him.
“Where’s Jisung?”
“He texted me like 5 minutes ago that he can’t make it today. Something about his mum being in town? I’m not sure,” you furrow your brows, “at least you’re here now, though.”
Felix is met with the realisation that he’s left alone with you again, mentally cursing at himself. This surely does not look like a plan to hating you. It looks like a bullet-proof plan on how to fall even deeper for you, with how your stray hairs are flying around your head and you adorably scrunch up your nose and sniffle from the cold. 
“Should we go?” he forces out of himself, looking at you hopefully.
“Yeah!” you nod, striding a few steps in front of him like a happy school girl excited to go to school for the first time. Felix can’t surpass the gentle smile forming on his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. You look so cheerful and so joyful, making his heart swell with how easily you manage to make him feel so young again. 
He follows you gladly, managing to match his speed with yours, almost forgetting for a moment that he’s not on a date with you, almost forgetting about the fact that you like his best friend and the smile you’re giving him is nothing against the wide grin you offer to his roommate.
“Let’s go on that one!” you cheer, taking Felix by the hand and tugging him your way, not once giving him the opportunity of letting go as you drag him all around the fare. You remind him of his younger sister with how excited you get about the smallest things and he realises he wants to protect your heart from the world just as much as he wants to protect his little sister’s. It’s not the same feeling, though. The affection he feels for you is different. 
Felix doesn’t find it in him to tell you no whenever you tug him on another ride, even when his legs are tired and his jaw hurts from smiling. He finds himself wanting to capture your image into his brain forever, imprint the happy memory in there so he can find it and look at it whenever his heart feels lonely. For the first time in ages, he forgets about everything. He forgets that he’s just the friend, the other choice. He completely forgets that Han Jisung was supposed to be there, at his place, sitting next to you on the ferris wheel as you watch the night city under you with cold cheeks and frozen bodies.
“You must be sad that Jisung isn’t here with you right now. That would surely feel much more romantic than sitting here with me,” Felix says bitterly once the reality hits him for a second, once his heart is unsheltered for a short moment and your eyes meet.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, “Jisung can’t be romantic. Besides, if I really wanted a date with him so badly, I wouldn’t have asked you to come with us, would I?” you smile at him, swinging your legs forward and backward, focusing your eyes somewhere into the distance again.
“Well, if you really want to go on a date with him, you can just ask him, you know?” he mumbles, playing with the dead skin on his thumb.
“So he can stand me up and go on a date with his mum again? I don’t know, Felix, is that really worth it?” you giggle, not noticing the way you’re messing with the boy’s head, not noticing the way a small spark of hope lights up somewhere in the deep pits of his stomach when you mention not wanting to ask his best friend out. 
“I don’t know, is it?”
“I’ll have to think about it.” you muse out, and the spark is gone. Of course it’s not that simple. 
Felix just nods and grins at you. The chilly air helps him hide his red cheeks when he thinks of how embarrassing his thoughts must have been in the past quick seconds. He focuses on your face, on the way your eyes crinkle up a little when you stare somewhere far into the distance and your hair flies a little with the breeze. The ferris wheel just reached the top, so he has plenty of time to keep admiring you from so close, but somehow, the moment still feels so short and he wishes he could stop the time. He wishes he could stop the time so he didn’t have to face the reality when he comes down from the ferris wheel. He wishes he didn’t have to see you fall in love with his friend, he wishes he didn’t have to act like he doesn’t care at all. 
“Thanks for helping me, by the way. I wouldn’t have passed my exams if it wasn’t for you and that… that would be really hard on me.” you get out, locking your eyes with his sincerely. He sees your eyes shining even so high above the ground, convincing him the sparkles really must be the stars, when he takes a deep breath in and responds.
“It’s no problem, I get it… I mean, it’s what you gotta do. What we gotta do, when we want to pass. And graduate,” he chuckles. 
Does he really want the degree, though? Or does he just need it to feel like he has some worth? Does he want to graduate or does he just want his parents to value him as an adult, does he really want to continue working so hard on passing or would he just be so much happier if he just dropped out. And saved himself so much stress. He should have known he was never smart enough for college.
“Yeah. I despise the smart kids in our class. I wish I were them,” you scoff, “I despise Jisung, in a way, too,” you add after a dramatic pause.
“Jisung?” Felix furrows his brows.
“Yeah,” you nod, like it’s the clearest thing in the world, “I mean, he’s smart enough to pass. He’s… he’s got his life figured out, in a way. He’s just fine. Getting all the girls and the guys, getting good grades, going on dinner dates with his mum on Fridays,” you giggle, “I mean, I want that. That sounds nice.”
Felix huffs, staring into the distance, “I guess you’re right.” He knows damn well how jealousy feels. 
“I came to college to prove to myself that my life has some worth, but I guess the only thing I prove to myself is that I can’t even pass my exams without help.” you sigh, sounding defeated.
“Hey,” he nudges you a little with his foot, “don’t say that. Life isn’t about grades, degrees and that shit. Of course you have worth and value.” 
He sees you smile in defeat, leaning your head on his shoulder. The feeling of acceptance, pure understanding washes over the two of you, when you gently speak up again. “Try to explain that to my brain.” 
He lightly giggles. “I’m trying, as you can see.”
You look up at him from his shoulder, scrunching up your nose and leaning closer to him, whispering. “It’s not working.” you laugh.
“I know it’s not easy,” he shakes his head, “I’ve been trying to tell that to my family for the past 21 years.” he slips out. Something about you makes him spill out even things he’s never told anyone before, but he finds himself not caring as you approach his eyes with pure serenity mixed with melancholy.
“Is it all because of your parents?” you ask, “the cheating, I mean.”
Felix feels his eyes giving him out, so he chooses not to look at you anymore. “I mean, I would have dropped out long ago if I didn’t have to feel so worthless around my family then. Every single one of my cousins is smart, has a degree and earns a killing. I’m just me-- living from the money I earned over summer, trying not to lose my mind with biology.”
He hears you humming next to him, your head moving as you nod in understatement. The ferris wheel is slowly reaching the bottom again and Felix finds the fact quite relieving. He doesn’t mind having deep talks with you, he just fears he might spill out something both of you don’t want to hear.
“I’m glad you came with me today, Lix.” you smile at him once the two of you reach the bottom, “wanna hear a secret?”
“Spill it out,” he dares you, grinning.
“I only invited Jisung because I thought you didn’t want to hang out with me alone.” you confess, quickly turning around in your spot as you jog a few steps in front of him, carelessly, as if you just didn’t make Felix’s heart stop and insides twitch in excitement. He prays and hopes it’s not just you giving him false hope, he wishes it’s not his mind playing tricks on him. 
“I-” 
“And now that I know you don’t mind being around me, do you wanna go to the dog cafe with me next Wednesday? You know, the one I talked about.” you turn around, flashing him a smile worth a billion dollars, taking him by surprise as his breathing hitches and he doesn’t find it in him to reject you ever again.
“Sure.”
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Second step of Lee Felix’s guide to helping you: find a small thing about you he doesn’t like to blow up so much he starts hating you altogether. 
He was so sure that he found the small thing just a few days ago. He thought that the fact that you like his best friend could be enough for him to start hating you. He could sit on that thought for long enough to pick it up to the smallest pieces and over-analyse it to the point he could start hating you. 
And he tries to do just that-- he lies awake at night thinking of how every single person he’s ever been interested in slipped right between his fingers just because of Jisung’s existence. He wonders why he’s never good enough to anyone, why he always has to be the second choice even for tutoring (even though it’s not even tutoring, but we won’t talk about that anymore). He thinks of how you’re so foolish to think your relationship with Jisung is going to last, because Jisung’s feelings never stay the same for long. He over-analyses the smallest things he notices on you when you’re in Jisung’s presence until the point he’s almost sure he can do it, he can hate you for it just a little, in a way, but then, the thought flies right out of the open window as his roommate crashes into his door in the middle of the night.
He startles awake, sitting up at his bed, watching the short male going in with much difficulty, sitting on his bed without a word.
“Jisung?”
“Lixie, I fucked it all up, didn’t I?” Jisung whines, laying down on the bed next to his friend. Felix doesn’t think it’s only due to the late hours of the night that his friend’s words aren’t making any sense, but he doesn’t dare to put his finger on it until he makes sure for himself.
“What are you talking about?”
“Y/N.”
Your name coming out of his lips hits Felix like a baseball bat, hurting in all the right places, as the young male finds it in him to continue the conversation.
“What about her?”
“She asked us to hang out together. And I didn’t go. I know it wasn’t my fault, because my mum was in the town, but still, I feel so bad, because now it must look like I’m not interested in her and that I don’t care and I really don’t want that, you know?” he stummers, making Felix realise his friend talks a lot when he’s under the influence of alcohol just the same second Jisung’s breath catches in Felix’s nose, only proving his point. 
“You didn’t fuck it up, don’t worry.” he muses. And it’s true. Jisung could never truly fuck it up with anyone. Even his exes always crumble up around his feet, wanting attention even after getting their heart broken. Will it be the same with you?
“She must think I don’t like her. And that’s horrible-that’s- that’s- I like her. Very much,” he whines again, getting closer to Felix and wrapping his arms around the blonde’s torso in a wave of affection that only washes over him when he’s drunk.
“Sung-” he stutters, desperately trying to push him away, but even though Jisung doesn’t look like it, he is a strong individual when it comes to involuntary cuddling. Felix can never escape his arms.
“I think she’s special, you know? She’s like- I can’t explain it. It’s like with her, I actually want to try. I want to ask her on dates and love her and give her my heart, because you know, I never dared to give my heart to anyone. And no one’s ever made me feel truly special before…” he mutters, forcing his nose to Felix’s neck, “I’m rambling too much, aren’t I?”
“Yeah,” Felix sighs, nodding. He doesn’t battle his arms anymore. Jisung is his friend, at the end of the day. He can hold him when he needs it.
“Sorry.” he says shortly, sighing as well. The room falls into silence and Felix’s head spins again, his thoughts spiral like a tornado and the eye of the storm is you-- standing there with that stupid smile on your face and he once again realises that he needs to hate you in order to shelter his own heart, because you’re like a hurricane when it comes a to a person’s emotions.
The fact is, though, he could never hate you for liking his best friend. 
Han Jisung is too likable for his own good. His heart is too big for this world, and truth be told, he’s been sharing it with everyone for such a long time now, he deserves to find someone he’s willing to give his all to. 
He could never hate you for liking Jisung-- the boy who smiles at everyone in the halls, the boy that offered him to live in the flat his parent’s bought for him in freshman year, the boy that helps him hide his cheating secret every day. He could never hate you for liking Jisung, because he himself knows too well how much of a treasure his dear friend is. 
He gets it. He gets why people always choose Jisung over him. He could never blame you.
“Sung?”
“Hmm?”
“Ask Y/N out to the dog cafe on Wednesday. She'll love it.”
Felix could never hate you.
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Step three of Felix’s bullet-proof guide to hating you is quite simple and actually the only one he completes with success. Setting you up with Jisung on a date is easier than he ever imagined, considering the fact that his roommate decided to finally take things into his own hands and call you on a date after the drunken weeping episode in Felix’s bed. 
Jisung invites you on a date to the dog café in town. The two of you go on Wednesday and although Felix feels like he just gave his roommate a piece of him, an invitation that was never meant for him in the first place, he feels at ease, because at least one part of his plan is working. He could never hate you, but at least now, it will be easier for him to ignore his growing feelings for you when you spend all your time with Jisung on dates and ice cream runs. He only has to ignore his feelings in school and at your ‘tutoring’ sessions. He wonders how long these will be a secret in front of your new boyfriend. Jisung’s not your boyfriend yet, but Felix can only imagine how short the time he isn’t is going to last. 
Felix does the stupid mistake of opening the instagram app in the evening, when he’s curled up in his bed with an embarrassingly big bowl of popcorn on his bed side table, serving him as his depression food. He sees your post show up, an adorable picture of you from the dog café, a big golden retriever in your lap as you giggle at its face. The picture is candid and looks like the kind Felix would like to keep as his lock screen if he had the chance. He’s sure his best friend took it for you not only from the fact that you went out with him tonight, but also for the fact that he’s tagged in the post’s description with a big blue heart emoji. 
He could stop staring at the picture if he really wanted, he could mute your posts and pretend you never existed to shelter his poor heart. He could do everything in his strength to cut all his ties with you. That would make it so much easier for him, wouldn’t it?
But he doesn't. And maybe he doesn’t even want to-- he’s used to the pain anyway, isn’t he? The bitterness, the feeling of being pushed away, ignored and left forgotten. 
He was supposed to be in Jisung’s place now, but that doesn’t change the simple fact that he isn’t-- maybe it was never his place to claim anyway. 
Felix stares at the picture for minutes, wondering of how things could be if you only didn’t fall for his best friend. Or if he came with you today. Who knows, maybe it wasn’t too late for him to ask you on a date. Maybe he could still change your mind. Felix likes to give up on things too quickly, though, and that is the curse that will follow him his whole life. 
Lee Felix is good at cheating. He is insanely good at it, he would also say it’s the only thing he’s ever been good at. Pretending.
It’s his time to shine again. It’s time to pretend he doesn’t like you, pretend you don’t hurt him, pretend he isn’t in love with his best friend’s crush. He’s been always the best at cheating and now it’s time to cheat his way out of liking you. 
Sounds easy, doesn’t it?
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“You must be really hungry, if you’re planning to eat all of that in one setting,” Felix mumbles, watching you as you eat yet another plate of chicken wings in yet another pointless bistro in town. Felix wonders how you even know about all of these, since the one you’re both sitting in right now, in the middle of the night, looks rather lonely. It doesn’t even seem that welcoming-- it has graffiti on the walls and the seats are a little torn on the edges, but you don’t seem to care as you munch on the chicken, eyes big when you stare back at your companion.
“I eat a lot when I’m stressed,” you mutter in between your bites, mouth full. You look natural like this and Felix realises this is you in his mind-- cheeks full of food, that little wrinkle in between your brows when you look at him, eyes staring big into his like a loyal dog. This is how he knows you, in your rawest form, and this is coincidentally, also, how he likes you the most. He loves and treasures every single version of you, but your late-night meetings feel of different kind of intimacy to him that he’s sure he’s going to think of even when he’s old and his college years are dusty like an old polaroid picture.  
“Stressed?” he asks, tone of voice a little more worried than usual. Felix always worries about you. Even when you quietly take out your cheat sheet from under the table and write your answers down. He doesn’t fear being caught-- he frankly doesn’t care that much, but he knows that you are having a battle with yourself and he really doesn’t want you to feel like you lost. He didn’t know it was so easy to put someone else first when you worry for the future. 
“The finals are coming up.” you clarify, the words coming out a little bashful and smitten.
“Oh.” he nods. 
You’re both quiet for a while. It would be cheesy to say the silence was comfortable, and Felix knows, he’s seen enough teenage dramas to know these words are used in situations like this, but the truth is, there’s no other way to describe it, and he understands that now. Your determination shines through all your edges and he’s glad you’re doing what you can with the resources you have. You’re not exactly studying for your Biology finals, but it’s still as hard and as stressful as that. It can feel a little embarrassing at times, but there’s no other way around it. You have to battle your enemy, even if it means the game is not fair.
“And those chicken wings are fucking good, dude,” you mutter after a while, offering him one of the paper baskets the server brought you a few minutes ago, looking rather stoned and not interested in your presence at all.
“Don’t tell me this rotten place is winning your chicken wings and fries contest,” Felix snickers, taking a bite that, to his surprise, actually tastes the best out of the amount of fast food chains and restaurants you’ve brought him to. You should never judge a book by its cover and this bistro is clearly one of the examples.
“I have only one place left to go, so we’ll see then, but I guess it might just be the top place right now,” you muse out, a wide grin decorating your features as you glance up at Felix that watches you scribble down your notes on a mini piece of paper.
“Wanna go with me there? After the finals, of course. We can celebrate if we pass,” you point out, licking your lips in nerves, “I don’t think I’ll need these ‘tutoring sessions’ anymore then, but I still want to hang out sometime.” you say, putting air quotes around the words tutoring session, looking at him with expectations in your eyes.
“Oh, sure,” he agrees, nodding. “I have to be there when you finally declare your last yelp review.”
You only laugh at him and shake your head, eating some more as you look down into your notes again, lost in work. “I still don’t get how you can do these so fast.”
“I already know what’s the most useful. You don’t have to copy the whole textbook on there.”
“You can never know! What if I’ll need it all?” you exclaim, only making him laugh harder.
He points his eyes out of the window, watching the empty parking lot. You didn’t come in your car today, telling Felix your house is close anyway, and Felix doesn’t dare to drive his car anywhere unless he doesn’t need to. He has a little bit of a trauma since the last time he drove with his dad and he almost ran the car into a tree, getting a shower of swear words and exclamations from his dear father, so he only drives his small white Renault when he needs to go home. Which is, coincidentally, next week. 
“I really don’t want to go home next week,” he sighs.
“Your family is still onto you for the smallest shit?” you ask, tone of voice sympathetic.
“Yeah. Can’t wait to graduate so I don’t have to listen to them talking about a degree anymore,” he rolls his eyes, “I only have to find myself a partner so my grandma can shut up about me being single all the time.”
You softly laugh, making Felix look at you for a moment, his heart skipping a few beats when your eyes meet for a little more seconds than usual. “I’m sorry. You can always text me, though, if you need anyone to talk or gossip with.” you say, averting your eyes from his.
“You’d have to be on your phone 24/7, then. My mental stability comes down by 70% when I’m back home and it’s already only on 15% now,” Felix snickers.
“Oh, I don’t mind. I’ll be staying here anyway.” you say, giggling.
“You’re not coming back home?”
“No,” you shake your head in disapproval, quickly glancing into his eyes before speaking up again, “it’s my parent’s wedding anniversary, so they’re going on a holiday. There’s no use in me coming home if I’m just going to be alone there anyway,” you shrug.
Felix hums, nodding in understatement. “That makes sense. I’m sorry you can’t meet your family on holidays, though.”
“It’s okay,” you say, “I see them often anyway. One Christmas won’t kill me. I have a whole season of Game of thrones to catch up on anyway.” you light-heartedly laugh, sounding like Felix’s favorite song. He smiles with you, shaking his head in disbelief at how positively you can always see the world, when he glances out of the window for a moment again, only to be met with a surprise. 
There are white flakes of snow falling from the sky and something in Felix wakes up-- something he’d call happiness, maybe even joy, when he quickly shoots up from his seat and calls you with excitement coating his voice, “Y/N! Y/N! Come on!”
“Come where? Felix, what are you-” 
He doesn’t let you finish as he takes you by the hand and tugs you on your feet, tugging you out of the empty bistro out into the dark parking lot, admiring the snowflakes falling onto the ground and every surface in his sight. He sees some stick into your hair, making him giggle as his outstretched hand dusts them off subconsciously, when he starts running around like a happy child, laughter coming out of his throat filling the silence.
“It’s snowing!” you exclaim, when Felix reaches your body frozen in its place again. He reminds you of a golden retriever when he jumps a little in his place, his feet happily crouching in the snow. You laugh at his antics when he starts acting like a little boy, this side of Felix being so new to you, yet you can’t help but feel your heart swell with admiration when he asks you to catch some snow into your mouth.
“Felix! That’s disgusting!” you refuse, laughing.
“Oh come on! It’s just water!” he cheers, leaning his head back and opening his mouth wide, waiting for the snow to fall into his mouth. 
“But it’s unhygienic and dirty! You have to be kidding me!” you still reject his idea, standing your ground firmly as always in your life so far, when a face of a boy looking like an angel takes you by surprise and his big eyes plead you in a way that makes you drop all your grudges and all your beliefs down, rolling your eyes when he pouts, leaning your head back as well and opening your mouth with a loud ‘aaaa’ sound to satisfy his foolish heart.
Once you both feel a snowflake hitting your tongues, you look at each other with your tongues out, laughing at how stupid the other one looks, pointing to your tongues. You shake your head. “It melted off, you stupid!”
“You did the same thing!” he bursts out laughing, bending over in the force of his emotions. You watch him with a wide grin plastered onto your face. It feels like watching a movie. You don’t think you’ll ever have a brighter memory with the boy in front of you, with his cheeks red from the snow and smile so wide it hurts both of your jaws.
You instinctively take his hands into yours, looking down on your feet as you start going around in a circle with him, going quicker and quicker as you watch your footprints in the snow mixing with his, the dry skin of his hands making you feel strange. You laugh out when your head starts spinning, looking up at him to find him already staring at you with stars in his eyes, when you wonder,
isn’t this how love is supposed to feel?
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All of his life, Felix had thought that family gatherings could always either go two ways, and that is: 1) a normal, boring meet-ups where your grandma asks about how school’s going, when you’re going to finally find a partner and another one of your cousin’s announces their engagement party, or 2) the actual engagement parties-- every single family member including the senile grandma from mum’s side gets drunk and you don’t have to think about more fake reasons why you have yet to lose your virginity.
You see, Felix is wrong in a lot of things. And this was surely one of them-- it’s the December 27th and he’s sitting in his grandma’s old kitchen, the wind blowing through the cracks of her window and the sweets on the table have already melted from the heat being too high, because his aunt is always cold and they can’t compromise. That sounds fine, even usual, Felix would say, however, the fire lights up a few moments later when his head starts to hurt from all the talking and he begins to dissociate a little too much, meaning that his grandma now has to shift her attention from all of his other relatives to him, because how dare he stay quiet on a family gathering where he has nothing to add to the conversation, right?
It starts off as usual, the answers to these questions digged deep into Felix’s brain since the first year of college. He doesn’t even bat an eye when he answers the questions directed at his studies and grades, telling all of his interested relatives that he’s working hard and it’s paying off. Nobody complains or disagrees-- his grades are awesome. His degree is here soon. Felix almost thinks he’s over with when his grandma laughs at a poor joke that comes out of his mouth, but that was only a bad prediction as he moves on to questions about his love life, which are, believe me or not, much more boring and much more ego-hurting for the blonde.
“Do you have a girlfriend yet, Felix?” she asks, tone of voice sounding rather interested, but don’t believe her-- it’s only an act. She’s ready to laugh into his face when he gives her the answer she’s hoping for.
“No, not yet, grandma,” he mumbles, averting his eyes from her wrinkley face as soon as possible. He really doesn’t need to look at her any longer to know she’s silently judging him on the inside, because that’s just how his grandmother is. 
“That’s such a shame… I wonder why… You’re such a pretty young boy, aren’t you?” she mutters under her nose, tone almost whiney, “what about your roommate? Jisung, was it?”
Felix takes a deep breath in, closing his eyes for a second to calm his rising heart beat. He could have predicted questions like this coming, because the conversation always somehow diverted to his roommate even when he was at home with his family. It’s crazy, how everyone just seems to adore Jisung much more than their own family member. 
“He’s.. Yeah. He’s always with someone, you know him. Not now, though, now he’s single,” Felix nods, explaining.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll find someone soon,” she admits, “he’s such a gentleman. And so handsome as well, isn’t he?” she asks, his aunt from her right side nodding quickly at the mention of Han Jisung. 
“He always has so many people around him, he’s so charming. If only you were more like him, maybe then someone would date you as well,” his grandma says calmly, not even noticing the way her words cut deeper and deeper into Felix’s heart, kicking him and punching him like a boxing bag, “you should try to be more like him.”
Felix bites down on his lower lip, rolling his eyes. Frustration coats his voice once he speaks up, the built-up anger living inside of him like an animal kept well in its cage. He doesn’t want to let it out, because he fears what it might do once it’s free, but he still retorts to a dig addressed to his grandma, huffing in annoyance. “Should I send Jisung home instead of me next time?”
“Oh no, Felix, what are you even saying right now?” his grandma looks rather offended, eyes twice their usual size as she glares at him.
“Well, since you like him so much.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I was just saying that-”
“Leave it.” Felix says. 
The atmosphere is too heavy now, all eyes on him as if he was in a circus, watching him just moments before his breaking. He realises he no longer feels welcome in this place and maybe he never did, he just chose to ignore it by now, because that’s what he always does when a problem appears-- he chooses ignorance. Ignorance is Felix’s best friend, and although it may sound like he’s running away from his problems all the time, it’s always worked so far. He’s just protecting his heart, building walls around it. 
He doesn’t want to fight. He hates conflict. So, even though he’d like to snap, even though he’d like to leash out like an animal, he doesn’t. He steps back-- as he always does, taking the car keys from the table and escaping the house, hearing the calls of his mother after him. He doesn’t bother to say goodbye, he doesn’t even bother to look back nor take the Christmas gifts his grandma brought for everyone. 
He sits into the small white Renault he drives once a year when he comes back home, starts the engine and speeds up to the limit, driving away from all of his problems. He doesn’t want to hear their complaints, he doesn’t want to listen. It’s the best this way. He wants to ignore the words that came out of his grandma’s mouth, but he can’t find it in him as he hears them resonate in his head over and over again. 
He’s the second choice even in his own family. He’s a joke to everyone, isn’t he? Just the side character, the one that never gets the spotlight. It hurts, it hurts him so much, but he pays no attention to his blurry vision, because even though he’s fairly sure no one from his family would miss him, he doesn’t want to drive off the road and kill himself with his escape.
He parks the car in front of his and Jisung’s flat after a few hours. He’s fairly good at it, considering he never drives, and mentally puts up a middle finger to his dad in his head for screaming at him so much. He was in a much calmer headspace when he was driving with his dad than he was now, yet, he didn’t manage to drive anyone over. 
Putting his feet into the cold, empty apartment, turning the heating on and plopping down on the sofa, he once again realises how lonely it feels. Not only because of the feeling of abandonment the dark flat resonates, but also due to the fact that it truly feels like now, he’s all alone in this world. The silence screams louder than any words ever could, his ears lowly ringing without any sound in the small room, which makes him wonder if he’s truly the only one that has to spend his holidays pretty much alone. Maybe it’s his fault that he’s fucked it up with his family, who knows-- but that’s a topic for another overthinking session of his, when he decides to let it go once his eyes meet the snow silently falling down behind the window. 
The dark mixed with the white balls of fluff in the air remind him of you. Your bubbly laugh, the feeling of your skin on his when you held his hands and danced around with him in the snow. He feels a smile growing on his face, despite everything he’s heard today, his fingers involuntarily texting you to see if you’re doing anything and if you can hang out with him today. 
He meets you at the door a few minutes later, your nose runny from the cold and hands dry, smiling at you with a sense he can only describe as belonging, because he realises, maybe you feel just as lonely as him on holidays and suddenly, he no longer feels sorry for leaving.
“Why are you even here, Lix? Shouldn’t you be at home?” you ask him when you’re taking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the hanger by the door. He bites down on his lower lip to suppress a bitter chuckle. 
“Christmas got cancelled this year.” he shrugs. 
It’s not like he doesn’t trust you. You know better than anyone what his struggles are-- he asked you to keep his secrets numerous times. It’s just that now that you’re here, it’s like his soul finally feels calm and he no longer wants to whine about his grandma or his aunts anymore. It’s just you and him and the empty apartment. If he was anyone else, maybe he’d try to get into your pants. He’s just Lee Felix though, and he’s absolutely, wholeheartedly in love with you, he realises, and believe me, it kind of takes him over the edge, and so he doesn’t try anything. 
And you look at him in understatement, no other questions asked.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s all a capitalistic holiday anyway,” he shrugs.
You follow him into the living room and he throws the remote control into your lap, telling you to choose a movie before he comes back with popcorn. 
“If you don’t pick anything before I’m done, we’ll just watch Venom, I don’t care,” he says, seeing you adorably scrunch up your nose at him in response. 
When he comes back and you’re waiting for him with Howl’s moving castle paused on Netflix, he can’t help but grin at you. He places the popcorn on the coffee table and notices himself staring onto your body next to his far more often than the TV and wonders if he really drove away from all of his problems or if he just drove away from one problem to another, because now, it’s getting really hard to focus on staying away from you. 
And when you shiver and curl up into his side, placing your head onto his shoulder, he can’t help but jolt at the contact, staring at you in surprise. 
“It’s cold,” you mumble, pouting.
Felix smiles. He rolls his eyes at you, even though on the inside, he finds you absolutely adorable, taking a blanket from the side of the sofa and putting it over your cold bodies, tucking you both in. You feel warm against his side, your hand resting on his chest. He wonders if you can feel his quickening heartbeat, his stiff body and the nerves rising in his heart. Everything else disappears, the fight back home long forgotten and Han Jisung left somewhere home with his own family, the weight of your body overwhelming him when you fall asleep and that’s when he stops and thinks,
isn’t this how home’s supposed to feel like?
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The halls of the university building are empty as Felix stands right in front of the closed door, silently pacing around the corridors and bumping his knee up and down. He just got his final’s results and even though his soul was supposed to be at peace, he finds himself stressing over you, currently sitting in the room behind the closed door in front of him, getting your final’s results from biology back. The professor decided to split your class into two groups for the finals so you can, quote, ‘focus better when there’s less people around’ and even though you managed to cheat on your exams without any problems, he still wonders if you did well and if you passed. 
Once the voices behind the closed doors get louder and louder, he figures it’s near the end of your lecture and he can finally see you again and ask you how you did. 
The last time he talked to you without the stress of finals breathing onto your back was back on Christmas break-- more than a week ago. Ever since then, you two have been meeting in the middle of the night again, preparing for your upcoming tests. You didn’t really manage to talk a lot about anything else and even though Felix didn’t mind, he still missed your mindless rambles and weird jokes you used to crack when you weren’t stressing your mind off. 
The door opens and reveals people coming out, a few of them wearing a toothy grin on their faces as they glance on the paper in their hands, a few of them frowning as they pin their eyes to the ground. It’s not easy to differentiate the ones that passed and the ones who did not do that well and even though Felix feels sorry for them, he wonders why they just don’t cheat their way out of bad grades just how he does. It’s not that hard. It just takes a lot of practice. 
Once he finally sees your face, a big, toothy grin decorating your lips, a big stone falls off his heart, a weight lifts itself from his shoulders, because frankly, you wouldn’t look so happy if you failed, right? You’re not a total psychopath.
“How did you-” 
His words are cut off from his mouth, all air kicked out of his body once he feels you so close, the soft skin of your lips pressed up against his in a happy kiss. He’s startled, to say the least. His cheeks are reddening in the instance and he doesn’t even know if time stopped or if it’s just the rising anxiety and excitement in his chest, but he bites down the confusion and kisses you back finally, closing his eyes and bringing you close by your shoulders. The kiss is a little sloppy and messy, but he doesn’t mind-- all that’s occupying his mind right now is you, your sweet lips, your mouthy kiss, your excited hands creeping up around his neck, your bag that fell to the ground next to his feet, your exam paper marked with the big red A+ flying around the two of you when you let it fall from your grasp, your hair tickling his cheeks, you, you, you.
There’s only you. In the air he breathes, in the ground he walks on, in his hands and on his mind. You’re everywhere. Intoxicating.
You pull away from him after a while, grinning at him. It still manages to startle him a little-- how just the small gesture can light up his whole world, how your smile can make him feel like he’s the luckiest person on this earth. He sees stars in your eyes and he wonders who put them there, hoping to be the one, believing he could finally be the one, with how you look at him and hold him in your arms-
but it’s Felix’s life we’re talking about. There’s only you, you, you and maybe somewhere, far away in the distance, there could even be him, but who’s always there for sure is Han Jisung.
Han Jisung staring at the two of you from the open door, mouth agape in shock. Han Jisung with trembling hands, Han Jisung with his books clutched close to his chest as Felix’s heart drops and reality finally hits him. You were never supposed to be his to kiss. You were supposed to be Jisung’s-- his roommate’s, his best friend’s -- you fell for him long, long ago and that’s how it’s always been. 
He opens his mouth to say something, anything, to comfort his dear friend that looks like he’s heart’s being broken, but he finds no words in him to console his actions. He feels bad, he feels so, so guilty when their eyes meet, but he doesn’t manage to say anything before Jisung turns around the corner and leaves. 
The sound of Jisung’s quick steps is the only thing resonating in Felix’s mind like a bell, a signal for him that he fucked up, he did a really, really bad thing. 
His insides clutch and eyes water in the empty college corridor when he wonders,
is this how it feels to break someone’s heart?
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You kick the small rocks beneath your feet, gazing into the distance. The cold in your bones makes you shudder, your eyes trailing around the neighbourhood so foreign to you, putting your hands into your pockets so you shelter your fingers from the frozen air. You think how this place looks exactly as you imagined it to-- tall apartment complex and a single big tree in front of it, the cars parked in the driveway obviously having their spot as the neighbours have lived together for a long time to know not to park anywhere else, because it’s more efficient this way. 
You’re waiting and waiting, hoping to see the one you’re waiting for soon, because you doubt your confidence will last you for any longer if you don’t talk to him now. You could lie and tell yourself it’s okay and that you’re not nervous at all, but after Jisung ran away the other day and his roommate followed him a few moments later, you feel nervousness creeping into your skin after not seeing or hearing from Felix for three days now. 
You remember him telling you that he likes to go for late-night convenience store runs every evening to get his favorite snacks. It wasn’t hard to find out where he lives-- it’s the 21st century, for god’s sake. You asked a friend of his friend and here you are, waiting  for him to appear in the door of his apartment complex, ready to talk to him about the events of this week.
Once you hear the door opening, you feel your head snap to its direction quicker than the speed of light, knees almost getting weak at the sight of Lee Felix standing there, confusion written all over his face once his eyes meet with yours. The frown forming on his face only deepens your stress as you wonder if he didn’t want to see you today, which, considering the fact that he’s been ignoring you for the past few days, might just be the case, but it still makes your heart break just a little when you hear him sigh once he makes his way over to you, the sound of his sneakers on the ground being the only thing heard in the middle of the night.
All the snow has melted-- as if all the bright things have left just in time with it, leaving you sad and cold, the clouds of your breath hitting the cold air being the only thing reminding you of the weather as you feel your body heating up in his presence. 
“Can we talk?” you ask, voice steadier than you expected it to be.
“I- I mean,” he starts, a shaky and husky voice hitting your ears, signaling that he probably hadn’t spoken to anyone for a long time now, “you’re already here, so I guess…”
You nod at him, averting your gaze quickly to the ground, when you realise you suddenly don’t know what to say. You try to search for words, yet none come out of your mouth. Your mind is blank and it seems like his presence took away all your vocabulary, but deep on the inside, you know damn well that if you don’t speak up now, you won’t have a second chance and you really have to get it now.
“Why- why…” you mutter, “why did you leave without saying anything the other day?” you ask.
The silence is overwhelming as you start to hate the sound of your own breath, opting to hold it for a few seconds as you await his response. 
“I mean, isn’t it obvious?” 
You shake your head in confusion, finally meeting his eyes again. “No.”
“Jisung… Jisung saw us. I didn’t feel like it was right,” he explains, cracking his knuckles in a nervous habit you noticed in him a long, long time ago when he first tried to teach you how to cheat in class without getting caught.
“What does he have to do with anything?”
“You two like each other.” he says bluntly, taking you off-guard.
The moment these words come out of his mouth, you realise not one, but two things. One of them is fairly new to you, the fact that Han Jisung liked you back was something you never knew you could experience, but even though you should be flattered, you realise it no longer holds a meaning in your heart. The second thing is connected to the first-- and that is, Lee Felix doesn’t know that you like him now. His foolish, silly mind convinced him you were still in love with his best friend, his confused and frustrated brain didn’t let him realise that for a long, long time now, the freckled boy in front of you has been the only one you thought about when you were falling asleep at night.
You don’t even know when it happened. You guess it just did. You wondered how it’d feel to know what exactly made you fall for Felix, what that moment was, but something inside of you is telling you that maybe, it was even more wonderful this way. Unexpected, but totally reasonable.
“Why would I be kissing you if I still liked Jisung?” you ask, the fear of directly confessing to him and getting rejected creeping up in your shadow.
“I- I don’t know-”
“Exactly.” you cut him off before he rambles and manages to find a stupid, silly reason in his head to justify his wrong expectations. You know how he is-- if he overthinks things hard enough, he’ll surely find an answer. There’s none, though, so you don’t dare to give him time to think about it and ponder on the thought for any longer.
“But that doesn’t matter now anyway,” he shrugs, putting his hands into his pockets.
You wonder what’s going on inside of his head right now. You wonder if he regrets what he’s done-- if he wants to turn back time and never let you kiss him. The nerves make you bite down harshly on your bottom lip and you only catch yourself when you feel iron in your mouth, quickly licking your own wound on the surface of your mouth and take a deep breath in. 
“Why?” you ask. 
“Why would it?” he says, eyes boring into yours.
“Because… I thought it meant something to you? I mean, it meant a lot to me, at least. That’s why I’m even here in the first place,” you chuckle airly, feeling your throat get dry.
“I’m not saying that it didn’t, I just think it had no point.”
His words feel like knives thrown into your chest, like a fire burning the pit of your stomach. You feel your legs getting weaker at his arguments, your fingers harshly tugging at the skin of your cuticles hidden in your pockets. You don’t trust your voice to sound steady this time when you speak, but you don’t care. Maybe it’s time to show your real emotions. Maybe it will change Felix’s mind.
“And why is that?”
“Because people like you don’t date people like me. You’re supposed to be in love with Jisung. You’re supposed to be dating him, he’s supposed to date you. You’re too good for me anyway.” he shrugs.
“Is this all about Jisung?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed.
You watch Felix sharply inhale in and out, averting his eyes from your figure. The distance between the two of you is unnatural, as if to singal how the two of you are slowly drifting apart. You see him fold his hands on his chest, preparing for what he’s about to say.
“It hurt him, back then. And I hate that. He loves you and I just.. I can’t do that to him, when I know  how much he cares about you.” he says.
Love is a strange thing. You hear Felix say how much Jisung loves you, but is that really true? Does Han Jisung even know you? The real you?
Does Jisung know how you look with your mouth full of fries and a greasy forehead? Does he know how you look when you’re stressed out of your mind because of finals? Does he know your favorite bistro, does he know your favorite movie? Did you cuddle up with Jisung on the couch just because you wanted to be close to him, comfort him and tell him you’re there just a few days after Christmas? 
Or does he just know the self you put up in front of him when you went to meet him? The put-together you that cares even about the sound of your own laugh, not wanting it to sound ugly in his ears? 
Han Jisung can’t love you. He doesn’t even know you.
And you never loved him-- just for the same reason. The feelings you had for him were merely a feeling of attraction, so far away from love.
But now you know how you feel about Felix, how his smile lights up the world and how his presence makes you feel understood. How even the silence with him speaks louder than a million words, how he knows you like the back of his hand and how he treats you like his closest friend. You know that what you feel when you’re with him is stronger than anything you ever have and although it used to scare you for a moment, now you’re ready to embrace it and live with it, if he lets you.
Lee Felix doesn’t tell you he loves you. Maybe you can see it in his eyes.
Why does he have to put everything above love? Why does he care about Jisung more than you? It’s breaking your heart. 
“Felix… I’m sure he’d understand. He’s a good person. I’m sure he’d want you to be happy.”
“Y/N, you don’t understand-”
“He’s a grown adult!” you yell out, the built-up emotions coming to the surface in the form of frustration, your words sunding spiteful and angry. Maybe you are furious, maybe you are full of fire right now, but it’s all because of the boy in front of you and the things he refuses to let himself enjoy.
“Why do you even care about it so much, huh? I was your fucking second choice all along anyway!” 
You look at him in shock, your eyes watering at the sight of the frown sitting on his face. Something inside of you breaks and you think it’s safe to say it was your heart, choking you up as you shake your head in disapproval. 
“Felix-” you protest, but there’s no use.
You see him turn around on his heel, opening the door to the apartment complex and leaving. It feels like you’re losing him, it feels like he’s gone forever. He turned his back on you, refusing all the love you were willing to give him, all the love you were offering to him right here, your heart in your hands.
He gave up on your love.
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People in movies go out to party after a break-up to get drunk and numb their feelings. They either go to the club or go to a stupid college party, which is, coincidentally, your case today, but you’re not here to get drunk tonight. You’re not here to drown out your feelings and numb your pained soul-- you’re simply here to try to have some fun.
Your mum told you long, long ago that happiness is a choice. You could argue with her and tell her that depression and heartbreak aren’t a choice and that they, by themselves, are causing people the most sadness, but you had to give your mum a point. If you don’t choose to try, if you don’t do anything to at least try to stimulate your own brain, you can’t expect happiness to find you by itself. That’s just, sadly, not how life works, and you weren’t going to drown out in your own tears just because of Lee fucking Felix, because if you weren’t worth trying for him, he’s not worth any of your tears.
You appear on Lee Haechan’s end of the semester party. You have A+ finals to celebrate and although you would be much happier to drink to them with the one that basically helped you get through the semester, you won’t pass the chance to socialize. You worked hard and you did a good job-- you deserve a party. Alcohol truly isn’t the best for your brain, but you will just decide to call it selfcare. It’s not like you’re getting blacked-out drunk tonight anyway.
You manage to have small talk with a few people from your class. Though it’s not exactly what’s stimulating your brain, you don’t mind it. You barely know these people and you couldn’t care less, but you guess this is the downside of socialising. 
The alcohol in your veins doesn’t give you a chance to loosen up, though. You only feel your body warmer with the beer hitting your system, but your feelings still taste of salt, your brain not cooperating with your grandiose happiness plan and you think the people talking to you notice, since no one really tries to keep you in a conversation long enough when you start to absently nod at them and pay zero attention to what they’re saying. You don’t blame them, though. You’d probably do the same in their place.
Your feet move their way to the front door when you decide that maybe your mum wasn’t right, completely ready to go home and pity yourself for a few more days before coming back to life, when a familiar voice calls you from behind, making you freeze in your spot.
“Y/N, long time no see.”
Han Jisung watches you with glossy eyes, yet he tries to look nonchalant at the sight of you. It doesn’t feel like his heart is breaking when he sees you right here and there, chewing on your bottom lip, more or less, it feels numbing to his heart and his head. It’s like he expected it all from the start-- the outcome that once so surprised him. But after all this time he spent overthinking and dwelling on the memory of seeing you kissing his best friend, it made sense to him. 
“Jisung…”
He can see your eyes growing worried when you watch over him and he mentally slaps himself for not handling his emotions with more care back then. He could have spared you a lot of pain and trouble if he hadn’t reacted in such a way in the doorway of your classroom, but the truth is, Han Jisung hadn’t really known just how much a true heartbreak feels and nothing could ever prepare him for the physical pain numbing his chest. He didn’t know it could hurt so much. 
He doesn’t want to worry you. You are still his friend, after all, right? That’s all you always have been and he should have understood it from the first moment he saw you gaze at his friend so lovingly in the university halls one day. He thinks you, yourself, didn’t even recognise the emotion in you when you watched over Felix with so much care, with so many stars in his eyes and a big grin on your face. He could never compare himself to Felix.
He doesn’t want to worry you anymore, and so he decides to talk to you like a friend would. You looked like you could use a friend tonight.
“How have you been?” he asks, smiling at you. He hopes his eyes convey the emotion he feels-- how after all this time, he still feels comfortable with you and desperately needs you to do the same. He can’t lose another friend. Not to love. 
That happens every single time. Truth be told, Jisung used to have a problem with differentiating true love from platonic feelings sometimes. He used to think he falls out of love just as quickly as he falls in, but the truth is that it was never even love at all. Sometimes, it was just pure admiration. Feelings for a friend. And he managed to ruin all his friendships just because he started dating them. 
And then, he just kept searching and searching for the right one, because no one ever felt right. No one ever made him feel loved, no one ever made him feel love. It felt suffocating, but so, so addicting. He could never give up on trying to find love.
And then he met you. And it finally made sense-- it finally felt right.
“I’m… I’m fine, thanks,” you say, smiling at him with that smile that still, admittedly, made his heart race and swell with love. He’s not afraid to call the emotion by its name. It doesn’t feel wrong. He used to think he wants it to stop, but the truth is, it still feels nice. 
Love feels like loneliness sometimes. It’s a bittersweet feeling. But it’s still so, so addicting.
“Are you sure?” he asks. He knows you. He knows when something’s wrong.
He also knows your eyes have been searching for his roommate for the past few minutes of your conversation. He knows you want to meet him and avoid him all at once, love him and leave him-- it was a paradox. 
He knows his roommate way too well, though. He knows he can’t fall out of love with you. He knows, though, that he’ll never act upon it. Lee Felix has always been the sweetest person in this whole entire world-- putting the needs of others before his own. He can’t keep doing this to himself.He can’t keep doing this to you.
“I think you know the answer, Jisung. Why do you keep asking, then?” you bitterly snicker, going around him and escaping the noisy house. Jisung doesn’t know if you want to leave, if you want to escape his presence, but he can’t leave you just like that, and so he follows you outside, seeing you sitting at the doorstep, as if you were waiting for him.
“You don’t have to think of me, you know that, right?” he says once he takes a seat next to you, watching your expression change into a pained one. 
“It’s… I don’t know. It’s complicated. And Felix- he doesn’t think it’s right. I can’t force him into anything. It was his choice anyway,” you mutter. Jisung sighs heavily, the feeling your words on his chest heavy and solemn. He hates the fact that he is standing in the way of your happiness. He hates the fact that he is the problem, the invisible wall keeping you two from each other. 
“It’s simple, though.” he shrugs.
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. He takes it upon himself to explain before you begin to tell him that it’s not, opting to open your eyes on his own.
“You two are in love with each other. So you should be together. Isn’t that simple?” he asks, smiling at you subtly.
You scoff and shake your head. “He gave up on us.”
“Did he, or did he just do what he felt was right?” Jisung argues. “You can’t keep hiding from each other. You can’t keep trying to ignore your feelings just because I like you. That’s not fair for either of you.”
You don’t argue with him this time. He wonders what’s going on inside of your head at the moment, with your eyebrows furrowed and your bottom lip trapped in your teeth. You look just like all the times he watched you during your tutoring sessions-- focused and lost in thought. It will feel weird to not see you in that way anymore, but he has to try.
The same way Lee Felix always tried for him.
“You’re too sweet, Han Jisung. What a shame our timing’s off.” you say, bitterness coating your voice. He looks up at you again, wondering what your words mean. “I used to like you back then, you know,” you smile.
Here it is, the strange emotion again. The emotion of almost physical pain, a hand squeezing his heart, a knife stabbed into his back. It feels like his world is crumbling down on him, because he’s stupid-- so stupid. He could have had you back then. He could have been with you all this time, only if he wasn’t late. He missed his biggest chance, the biggest opportunity, the happiest time of his life. All because he was too hesitant. 
He didn’t deserve you anyway.
“But now your timing’s right with Felix. Don’t waste that,” he says, biting through the pain.
Because the truth is, if anyone deserved love, it was his roommate. The one that refused you for him, the one that rejected you for him, the one that set him up on a date with you even though you invited him in the first place. The one who gave up on his love only so he wouldn’t hurt his friend. You could say that Jisung was too good for this world, but Lee Felix is the one that deserves the whole entire world, in his eyes.
Maybe these two were just too good of friends. Caring about the other one twice as much as about themselves. And that’s exactly why Jisung will get over this-- he’ll push you to his friend. So he could be happy, finally. 
“Jisung, I don’t know-”
“Do it,” he cuts you off, “reach out to him again. Try it. For me.”
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y/n: meet me at the 8Bistro at 9 
Felix can’t believe himself when he finds his legs moving to the direction of the bistro at the edge of the town. He knows it’s the last one on your list, the one you invited him to so you could celebrate your finals in and he finds himself wondering if he could have gone here with you earlier only if the two of you didn’t share that kiss back then.
That damned kiss he couldn’t stop thinking about for the last few days-- even weeks, every time he opened his eyes in the morning and closed them when he was about to sleep. It kept following him like a curse, a thing he couldn’t escape, as if it was testing him like the snake tested Eve in paradise. Foreign fruit. 
You’re sitting there already when he arrives, fingers playing with each other as you gaze at the door in expectation. He sees your usual order already on the table, assuming you got here early, but it’s untouched as your knee bumps up and down under the table and you bite down harshly on your bottom lip.
He takes a seat, allowing himself to look at you again after such a long time. It feels like it’s been ages, yet you still look the same to him-- the same beauty that hit him when he first met you and shared his biggest secret with you.
“Why aren’t you eating? You have to finish off your list,” he mumbles awkwardly, motioning to the food at the table.
“I wanted to wait for you.” you say. Your voice is quiet, almost shy, when you speak to him. He wonders just how much he fucked up that it made you act this way. He knows it’s probably a lot, but considering he’s sitting here right now, he can still fix it.
At least he hopes so. 
“Did you.. Do you want to talk to me about something?” he asks, nervosity filling his veins as he feels his hands form a little swimming pool with just how much he’s sweating.
“Yes,” you nod, taking a deep breath in and out. He wonders if you’re just as nervous as he is. The answer is probably yes, considering your tense shoulders and restless legs, but he doesn’t comment on it as he watches you begin speaking again. “I wanted to tell you that I’m- I’m in love with you. And that it’s for real, and it’s for you and no one else,” you start, quickly wetting your lips and continuing again, “and I know you must feel like a second choice, or like you weren’t important to me at all, but that’s not true.”
“You helped me so much, really, but the more I hung out with you, the more I realised just how wonderful you are. And how your heart is so big, how you’re fun to be around…” you ramble, taking Felix by surprise with your heart-felt monologue, “and that Jisung is not the one for me, because, well, it was just.. it was just a crush. I didn’t know him. He didn’t even know me that well. Crushes… they don’t mean anything. They’re silly. But what I have with you, Felix…” you say, drifting your eyes away from him for a second,
“I know you. The real you. And you know me. You’ve seen me at my worst. You’ve seen me struggle and you know exactly how to help. You know me and I know you and the feelings I have for you are much more than a silly crush. I love you, Felix. And I don’t want to just forget about us.” you complete and Felix swears he can feel his eyes watering at your words. He chooses not to speak up, afraid of his voice breaking, afraid he’s going to embarrass himself in front of you. His emotions got the best of him and right here and now, no one else matters. 
It’s you. You that feels like home, you, the only girl he’s ever loved. You, the only girl that ever loved him back, you, who he foolishly rejected. 
You’re everywhere. In his veins, in his heart, in his foolish, stupid mind.
“Felix… I don’t want you to give up on us.” 
He looks up, seeing your sincere eyes and a look full of worry. You seem so wonderful to him, even now. You’re everything he’s ever dreamt of, a home without a roof and walls. With you, he feels at ease. He trusts you. He’s never felt this way for anyone before.
He watches you and he hears your laugh, he hears your whines when he used to tease you so much. He hears the sound of your memories when he chased you around in the snow. He hears the opening song of Howl’s moving castle, reminding him of the warmth he felt when you hugged him so close that evening.
He used to want to hate you. He should have known that could never be the case.
You’re all he needs-- all he wants. You’re everywhere he looks, in every beauty of the world and in everything that’s dear to him. 
You, you, you, you.
And so he decides-- it’s time to change his plan.
Lee Felix’s bullet-proof guide to loving you: 1) hold her hand, 2) get rid of the guilt, 3) lean in and kiss her.
“Does that mean you’re giving us a chance?” you ask, hopeful eyes glaring at him with millions of stars in them, sparkles swimming around in perfection.
“We’ll talk after you eat. You have a yelp review to write,” he laughs.
“Feli-”
Lee Felix’s bullet-proof guide to loving you: 4) shut her up by forcing french fries into her mouth.
“I love you too.”
662 notes · View notes
popisdead · 6 days ago
Text
harbinger。(m)
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pairing: incubus!lee minho x fem!reader genre: romance, supernatural, fantasy, angst, horror, adult content word count: 16.3k summary: as the snake tattoo gradually begins it’s formation on lee minho’s neck, it serves as an ominous reminder of his duty — and that even in spite of being inhuman, the future of his survivability rests in the hands of the entirely human concept of intangible love. failure is as good as death.
he has three months.
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→ in conjunction with @bearseungmin​‘s strange devotion collab.
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PLEASE READ⚠️: this work contains subject matter that could be highly triggering or upsetting to people who are sensitive to the following: blood, death, suicide, depictions of mental and emotional manipulation, gore and murder. if the reader is susceptible to finding ANY of these topics troubling, it is advised that you do NOT read the following story. reader discretion is advised.
→ sexual content warning under cut.
sexual content: vanilla
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I.
eighty-seven days remain.
with the skin slightly raised to the touch, darkened and akin to scales — minho can't help but attempt to recall the stories from elders, passed down through generations and generations of family through literacy and word of mouth; most long lost and long forgotten by now, he curses himself internally at the abject disability to remember anything about the life phase that he, now, was entering.
in typical, childish fashion — going through life as an adolescent without a care in the world, one tends to not spend much thought on the future, the what ifs, or even the guarantees of a life that one would have thrust upon them — when minho's mission takes him suddenly on a cold afternoon in august, he feels as though it has snuck up on him when he least expected it, even in spite of being the age in which it does.
his journey starts now, whether he wishes for it or not.
fingers delicately grazing over the marked skin, as if sensitive to the touch despite there being no such thing present, a wince takes his features all the same, cursing again — this time aloud and for no one to hear, nor be it at his immaturity in past years; now, he focuses on the future at hand...what that means, the burden that one must carry through until the bitter end.
giving up on contemplating the fact, the man cards his hand through his hair with a sigh — a sort of acceptance weighing heavy on his chest — he has no choice but to carry on. he straightens his suit jacket before clearing his throat, pulling the collar of his dress shirt up a bit in an attempt to conceal the discoloration on his neck, albeit to no avail, and exits the bathroom with somewhat feigned confidence — eyes darting to each side of the busy hallway of the exhibitors ballroom, as if searching for something in particular without necessarily being aware of the mark himself.
the prey.
minho knows that he has three months from the first day — less now, in total, since the first formation. time isn't on his side. he has to make due all the same.
black, perfectly shined shoes clattering against the white marble flooring as he makes his way to the main floor, it catches his eye almost immediately — even with the distance between: the distress of her motions, the urgency in her voice and the way it carries through bustling vendors and patrons the same, through glass windows and the occasionally open door as someone enters or exits in passing her, cell phone pressed hard to ear and knuckles white in the grip of it.
minho heads towards the open bar, ordering two drinks and making sure not to lose sight. ensuring that vision is never lost, not even for a moment.
everything depends on it.
with the drinks in hand and striding towards the door, he still tries to recall any bit of information he can from the past, from the stories. stories that he knows have been told — passed down. advice and nuance. it's not an easy mission, and many fail.
it won't be him.
now that he's found you.
nodding to someone as they hold the door for him to exit through, hands full and unable to allow for it himself, he stands off to the side slightly as he watches you finish up your phone call — eyebrows furrowed and voice nearly cracking as you say your goodbyes to the person on the other end. cold wind bellows past the both of you in an instant, losing your balance slightly, and you notice that the man adjacent to you is entirely unmoved. bizarre.
but, he has two drinks, and the look on his face says that whatever the plight, he's willing.
are you, however?
nudging your phone back into your purse and straightening out your long coat after nearly being blown down the sidewalk, you clear your throat and finally take a moment to acknowledge him. “yes? hello? do I owe you money as well?”
it's somewhat tongue in cheek, minho can tell that the humor is only serving as a mask.
“no, you don't owe me money,” he says, handing you the drink in his left hand. “here, looks like you could use it.”
“i don't really drink anymore,” you say, pressing a hand up suddenly in refusal, only to immediately change course and aim to take the beverage from him, “actually, fuck it, okay...thank you.”
“no problem.”
but when silence overtakes the conversation — nothing but the nearby rumbling of the mess of people inside of the building and the cars taking and delivering people, minho considers for a slight moment that perhaps this will be trickier than initially thought.
the deed, however? already done, and with you left none the wiser.
there's no turning back now.
“anyway,” you start, finally slicing through the awkward silence of the handsome man next to you simply watching you without a word. “as i'm sure you heard, I have a lot going on and i'm not really looking to add to that with a man, so, thanks but—“
and you pause, turning to wave down a cab from the side of the street.
“it's been nice. this was nice,” you add, leaning back towards him to hand him the empty glass you had been sipping from. “you're very kind. thank you. have a good night.”
“you too,” he responds gently, almost inaudibly as you slide into the backseat of the taxi and shut the door behind you.
minho watches the vehicle drive off, two glasses in hand once again, one corner of his lip turning upwards ever so slightly at the turn of events. a series of events that to the average onlooker would appear to be nothing of interest — man approaches woman, woman declines any interest, woman leaves man with nothing gained.
but in the dealings of the supernatural, not all is as it seems.
as your ride pulls up to the front of your building, you can't help but be bombarded by thoughts of the man in front of the exhibitor hall. yes, he was handsome, and yes he was kind, but in a large city, neither of these things are hard to come by.
a man whose name you did not know, whose face you had barely seen — the thought of him so heavy in your thoughts now, a near uncontrollable urge to know him, in any capacity.
but you know you're hurting, and you know you're going through the motions, and sometimes, things like this are simply a part of that.
you go to bed that night thinking of the man with two glasses and the slightly crooked smile, allowing yourself the comfort of the thought of seeing him again some time in the near future — however impossible it may be.
sometimes through the suffering, we just need the idea to get us through it; the idea that things can be good, that things will be good. the fantasy to fall asleep to. the vision of good in the world, in whatever form that it may take.
another morning that you wake up wishing that you hadn't done so at all.
having long since come to terms with all of the ways in which the old apartment squeaked and creaked throughout the days and nights without any apparently reason beyond it being how the walls share their tales of the time, you lie awake in the intrusion of the morning sunlight — breaking through the thin, cotton blinds — barely capable of shielding you from the warmth of the outdoors just on the other side of the loud walls that you had called your home.
your home.
and every morning, you think the same thing to yourself: another desperate attempt to be normal, to talk yourself into it. anguished pleas to oneself to feel the way about this that anyone else would feel — happy, comforted, thankful.
but it always ended the same, and truthfully, you just wish you were dead.
pulling yourself from the old sheets at half past eleven in the morning, the old cafe on the corner calls for you — through the despair and even the self-hatred, the need for morning coffee even so close to the afternoon proves itself to be ever as strong, and tossing on a baggy tshirt, jeans and a hoodie, you ruggedly make your way there, the wood beneath your feet crying out all along the way.
you think of him as your fingers curl around the old, brassy doorknob of your place. it's an itch, a burning sensation — only for a split second before it dissipates — as if an electric touch of the door. him.
but the man was handsome, you recall. having only been a few days prior, the memory of his visage still easily maintained; probably not the first time he's left such a lasting impression on a stranger.
you need coffee, though, not to stand around thinking about this.
eyes to the floor, bell of the front door jingling as you enter, you pay no attention to the patrons surrounding you as your intentions are you exit just as quickly as you had entered. hands shoved into your pockets, shuffling around various items in an attempt to find your wallet, it's your keys that spill out first — followed by a couple of crumpled up receipt papers and a pen. you sigh in irritation, too emotionally beaten down in general to especially care about the opinions on your clumsiness from the strangers surrounding, but merely inconvenienced.
however, another hand crosses your vision towards your belongings before you're fully bent down enough to reach them yourself, and following the trail of arm up, you're met with familiarity.
itching, burning, and the immediate rush of ease.
“fancy seeing you here.”
swallowing hard, as if basking in the feeling of being within his comforting presence, you take pause, unsure of what to even say.
how do you say that you knew he would be here?
standing tall again, the two of you finally introduce yourselves to one another — minho handing you your keys again, and you can't help but revel in the gentle gleam of his eyes.
unmatched delicacy wrapped into the impossibly tough, sexy demeanor of the dark haired man just before you.
disarming, was the word that came to mind.
“do you live around here?” you finally ask, finding the words through all of the extra thoughts that you couldn't dare speak.
he hums first, corner of his mouth pulling slightly — as if letting you know that whatever it is he's about to tell you isn't necessarily the full truth.
“you could say I was in the area.”
and you can't recall when the last time was that you shared a sit down with another man. it wasn't a date, it wasn't anything really, but being in the company of a kind, handsome man again lit a fire within you that had long found itself extinguished. through the debt, through the trauma, through everything — feeling this, whatever this was, had long since taken a back seat in your life.
it was exciting, he was exciting.
you liked the way that minho would sometimes look at you like you were the thing that would save his life — far from well enough to not feel flattery from someone's misguided need to have your existence in their life. the distinct need for another human being to hold us up, an emotional or mental crutch by which we succeed or fail...you knew it to be wrong.
but in the moment, it's the feeling. a feeling you're not strong enough not to relish in.
you also had a history of falling too hard, too fast. just like last time.
telling ourselves we won't make the same mistakes as last time is always so much easier than actually doing the work.
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  II.
eighty days remain.
writing had been next to non-existent since then.
your editors and publishers had been doing their best to bend deadlines to accommodate you, it wasn't as though they didn't understand — everyone understood, it's that the world keeps spinning even in the face of one person's tragedy. it keeps spinning in the fact of one, or many — countries and entire populations of people, the world at large pauses for none of them in spite of their suffering, it went without saying that you wouldn't make the difference.
and you had to be honest with yourself; that you hadn't been pushing for it, you hadn't been trying as hard as you could have. an entire world of thoughts clouding your head, none of which would prove to be useful for the journey, though. you suffered silently and alone when you weren't working, only to open your laptop and be face to face with all of the ways in which you failed, time and time again.
just another notch on the bedpost of all of the ways in which you could do nothing of merit.
the buzzing of your phone — face down as to not disturb you, ends up doing it all the same. typically capable of ignoring it, this time you found yourself drawn to it. drawn to the possibility. the what if. the who.
picking it up, you're greeted with an all too familiar burn that you don't think should become all that familiar.
“busy? come out with me tonight?”
you smile, thankful for the distraction despite the fact that you drown in debt and failure at the hand of it.
upon his arrival, you meet the man downstairs at the curb already, wanting to avoid any possibility of having him inside of the apartment; the thought of having another man there still far too foreign and new — like picking at a scab that had only just started forming, minho doesn't ask — getting out of the drivers side and rounding the vehicle to open the passenger for you — it's charming, you'd be lying if you said you weren't at all charmed by the attention that the handsome stranger had all of a sudden been paying you, but well aware of needing to keep your wits about you (and your therapist warning against getting too carried away in the throes of trauma), you shake yourself free of the glee of him seemingly being at your beck and call.
“where are we going, anyway?” you ask quietly, music on the stereo low enough that you need not raise your tone much.
minho cracks a smile, opting out of glancing towards you and instead keeping his eyes on the road. “little place just a few blocks down, nothing too special, don't get your hopes up too high — don't want to disappoint.”
you think to yourself that you cannot fathom being disappointed by anywhere he could take you, and immediately after, question why it is that you thought that.
but the man wasn't lying — gazing up at the old building, long since abandoned, vines and other such greenery having taken over the sides that received the most generous amount of sunlight through the year, you pull your eyes from it only briefly enough to catch minho gazing up at it just the same — a light pull of his lips upwards, as if proud of a piece of art he had nothing to do with it — proud of its existence in the broader sense — the way that the beauty of architecture can fully encompass and inspire us, minho looked at it as though it had every answer he had ever needed, and in the bellowing cold wind — medium long hair swept across his eyes and prominent bridge of his nose, you allowed yourself for the first time since meeting him — really allowed yourself, to take a moment to appreciate his beauty. in the same way that a statue or a place is created and built upon and crafted to eventual elegance, it was easy right then to allow yourself the same thought about the man just next to you.
it was too soon, of course it was, but perhaps it could be a step towards health, a step towards normalcy.
towards better.
crawling through the worn down building, surprisingly clean for however long abandoned and unused it had gone, when minho reaches out to take your hand as the two of you head up the stairs, you grant him the contact without so much as a second thought — the touch electrifying, beguiling, but accompanied with a gentleness that comforts you.
for a split second, you miss him.
but once on the roof, you find a small lawn table and two chairs already laid out — ready and waiting for it's patrons. a rooftop greenhouse of sorts, with large glass paneling blocking out the wind, minho brings over a small cart with a hot beverage and two mugs on it. obviously planned, but...confusingly so.
“how did you know I would agree to come with you?” you ask as he pours your mug, teasing in tone, but minho only chuckles lightly in response as he finishes up and makes his way to his own empty cup. “had a hunch — I wasn't wrong!”
humming into the rim of your mug, you shoot him a smug look, which he happily reciprocates as the both of you take sips of your drinks, setting them down at just about the same time.
you had noticed it before — the night that you met him, but felt it a bit prying to ask. now? well, now the two of you find yourselves a bit more acquainted.
“run out of money last minute?” you playfully ask, nodding towards the general space of his body. minho shoots you a confused look. “your unfinished tattoo. run out of money or the artist move or what?”
he clears his throat, fingertips making their way to the raised skin briefly before pulling away again. “moved, have to find someone I like enough to finish it.”
you nod, accepting the response. internally, minho sighs in relief.
“so, since we're being nosy,” minho starts, taking another sip of his drink, “what do you do?”
“nothing successfully,” you answer quickly, trying to play it off yourself as to not raise any distress in the moment. the truth was that it was an incredibly sore subject, so sore that the future of your home ownership rode on the line of it — that most certainly being too much information, of course. “i write. i'm writing a book—“ you stumble over the words, deciding them to be dishonest after having left your mouth. “—i was writing a book.”
minho's eyes grip to you, never faltering, remaining as engaged in you as he always was but all too evidently searching for the right words to verbalize.
“why...why aren't you writing it anymore?”
you pause, granting yourself more time to think about how you wish to answer the question. another sip, and then a light sigh into the chilled night air — the breath visualized in a pale mist through the night sky.
“my partner and I—“ you pause again, trying not to choke on any of the words. it'd be more explaining. “it's complicated, but they're not around now so that sort of threw a wrench in what I had been doing.”
aware that it sounds like your run of the mill break up, and just about intending for it to, you add on. “it's complicated.”
like a big, neon red warning sign that says “DO NOT ASK,” the implicit drop of “it's complicated” being a sure fire signal that the topic needs to come to a close, you're happy when minho picks up on it, nodding silently and taking another sip of his coffee.
upon exiting the old, forlorn building and reaching minho's vehicle once again, standing in front of him quietly but with the words just on the tip of your tongue, you finally muster up the strength to get them out. it should be easy enough, you're certain that you're both on the same page, after all. it's not difficult, or complicated, and you're certainly not looking for anything that could be even remotely either of those things right now.
presumably you've laid out enough of your baggage on the table to figure that if he's still hanging around you, then he's in it for one reason. the same reason.
“so,” you say, your best impression of sexy and confident lacing your tone. it's almost a caricature, you're hoping he doesn't notice. “planning on taking me back to your place?”
minho clears his throat lightly, eyes pulling away from yours for a second — it's as if he's...uncomfortable?
well this is not how you had intended this to go, and shame quickly begins to creep up into your veins, chilling and stifling...as if you weren't already at least slightly on the edge of wishing for the earth to open up beneath you and swallow you whole.
“it's...complicated.”
you can't believe the words when you hear them drop from his lips, but it sounds as though he's disappointed in the fact himself. guilty, and disappointed. you're familiar with the way both ring in the ear.
“what do you mean...complicated?” you ask, trying not to allow the annoyance bubbling up to come out, and knowing you're failing ever so slightly. “are you mocking me?”
“no!” he says quickly, eyes wide. “no, i'm not. look...it's just—“ he pauses, eyes now up towards the sky as he deeply inhales. “that's the best I can give you for now, and the best you can give me, is time.”
“i just need time.”
a statement full of more truth than you could truly ever fathom in the moment.
but you struggle with handling the irritation. why was he doing all of this if not for this goal? the possibility of him feeling the need to drag it out: wine and dine you to get you to spread your legs for him bubbling up the same sort of annoyance you had just moments prior. the bells and whistles not necessary for the endeavor — if he just wanted to fuck you, that was fine, you were on the same page — but don't play stupid games about it. we're all adults here.
you choose the most diplomatic responses instead, nagging voice in the back of your head telling you not to blow this up, not to burn this bridge.
and so, you settle.
“i'm not looking for complicated.”
“i know, no one ever is, though.”
the nonchalance of his statement breeding more of that same anger and resentment in you again, you can't bite it back now. “you have no idea what complicated looks like.”
and minho's face only softens at the way your voice breaks through the words, gently reaching towards you and taking your hand into his.
“it's not a competition.”
sixty-six days remain.
you find the loneliness to be stifling in an entirely new and unanticipated way, but when the knock on the door rings through the emptiness of the apartment, you battle internally with the feelings — all sorts of feelings; desire to remain alone paired with the burning, unrecognizable need to be seen.
after two more knocks, you accept it to not be an accidental arrival to yours.
climbing off of the large, black sofa — blankets and pillow strewn about as well as documentation and your laptop — some related to the work that was expected of you, others related to the money similarly so, you don't even bother hiding it or tidying up. you slowly stride towards the door, unlocking the massive brass adorning it and pulling open —the burn is one you come to be reacquainted with.
“morning,” the words ring, gentle and comforting. “well, afternoon, I guess.”
a sight for sore eyes, for sure. minho's relaxing visage present before you — in the back of your mind now wishing that you had cleaned up a bit upon hearing the door, only to immediately there after question why you felt that desire.
it is true, however, that it is the afternoon. 14:02 to be exact — you standing before him in messy, unbrushed hair and a t-shirt at least three sizes too large for you, you grimace at the thought with minho looking just as immaculate as he had all of the other times you had seen him, if not for a little more tired than usual.
not that you were one to question, it had been days since your last proper rest — another deadline on the way that you without question would not make.
minho's eyes scan your face, as if to take in every minute detail of it and it bubbles up insecurity within you, but one thing is for certain, and that is that you're happy to see the man before you.
“can I come in?”
allowing him to step inside, minho removes his coat and takes in the sights and sounds of his surroundings in silence — head turned up towards remarkably high ceilings and beautifully elaborate architecture, you can tell that he's taken by it.
you're thankful that at least one person can find solace and beauty in your tomb.
“it's beautiful,” he sighs, stepping forward and into the open living space — boxes and books and piles of paper held up by large furnishings — you stopped giving attention to it long ago, but with minho there, you allow yourself a second to see it through his eyes; eyes like you had in the early days of living there...long since forgotten now and replaced by a suffocating eeriness and a reminder of all of the ways in which you fail everyday.
it was beautiful, though. just then, with the two of you there.
“yeah,” you force out the smile and a more cheery tone. “it was my dream place.”
“was?” he asks, turning his gaze back down and to you.
but silence takes, biting the inside of your cheek to now allow yourself to be engulfed by the despair threatening to take you.
“how did you know?” you ask suddenly, watching the way that his features twist as if trying to decipher the code without acquiring further information.
“how did you know I needed to not be alone right now?”
eyebrows furrowing slightly, minho stills in place — contemplating everything. contemplating telling you everything. it's early, too early to tell everything against his better judgement, but knowing your fragility, it's up to him to make the call that he decides to be the right one.
often, there is no objectively correct decision: just people going through life trying to inflict as little damage on each other as possible.
“can we sit?” he sighs, nodding towards the couch piled high with bedding. internally, you want to say 'no,' not entirely remembering the last time you washed yourself, much less the items he now asks to be situated within, but you nod reluctantly — leading him towards your makeshift bed and sitting demurely beside him.
minho inhales deeply before opening his mouth to speak, looking down at his own hands for a moment to anxiously play with the ring adorning one index finger, before taking one of your hands into his lap and looking up at you with earnest.
“what i'm going to say to you is going to sound insane, but I need you to give it a chance — give me a chance.”
only watching on, minho continues.
“we have a sort of...spiritual link. a soul link—“ he begins, biting at the inside of his lip in the pause. “we're always going to be tied to one another. always. that's how I know.”
quiet and completely still, the two of you sit in silence at the words — you give yourself time for it to process before gently pulling your hand from his and chuckling awkwardly.
“minho...” you say delicately, nearly a whisper. “that's crazy...”
you ignore the nagging feeling in your chest that questions there to be any truth behind it, opting in favor of logic, instead. swimming in hopes that he drop it entirely at your reluctance.
he does not.
minho allows you to pull away from him, but carries on.
“i know how insane it sounds,” he begins, haste now lacing his tone. “but explain the cafe — you knew that I would be there, didn't you?”
you did. you can't explain it, but you did.
you find indigestion beginning to arise within you at the implications, not that you can even begin to fathom what this means, or how this is possible.
anxiety taking you in your already ailing state, when tears begin to well up in the corners of your eyes, minho takes your hand back into his — gently pulling you over and against his body in an attempt to comfort you. you're not sure if you find it comforting or terrifying.
“i— I can't trust my own feelings,” you begin, choking back the desire to cry. “it's too soon, too early since...”
you pause, reassessing the road that the conversation go on.
“i have a lot going on, too much going on. I can't trust my feelings about you, or this, or anything right now, i'm not ready.”
chest tightening, it feels a combination of terror, anxiety, and the inexplicable bond that you share with this man. to say that you find it overwhelming would be an understatement.
“i can't tell if I need you around just because you're another man in my life. I can't tell.”
brushing a hand over the top of your head and squeezing your hand in silent affirmation of your feelings and his simply being there, minho presses a kiss to the top of your head as well.
“it's not that simple,” he whispers over the sounds of you attempting to swallow down your feelings. “i can't explain it further than that right now, and I know i'm asking a lot of you but—“
a pause, another squeeze of your hand in his.
“trust me.”
“get out.”
the words coming as a surprise, but more so than that the tonal venom dripping from them, minho pulls back abruptly at the sounds leaving your lips.
“see a desperate, pathetic, traumatized woman and think 'hey, there's a fun target for some insane mindgames!' huh?”
“no!” minho exclaims, eyes wide in the shift. “that's not it at all!”
“get the fuck out of my place, and don't ever contact me again.”
in an instant, minho switches from confused to nearly pleading to be heard. “please, i'm telling you that we can't do that.”
“because of our soul bond or whatever the fuck it is?” you say, mocking the words that he ever so seriously told to you just minutes prior.
“yes! I know how it sounds!”
“get out.”
carding his fingers through his hair in desperate silence, he realizes that it's a lost battle today — quickly standing from the sofa and heading towards the door, grabbing his coat and barely having it on half of his body before having the decorated front door swinging open.
minho pauses, looking back at you from the entrance hall — knowing that in spite of this, and in spite of everything, you were also feeling the burning in your chest that he was in that second. the twist of the proverbial knife, the reminder that the two of you were in this for life — whether you wanted it to be the case or not.
the difference being that your life not hinge on it, while his delicately hang in the balance — and your disbelief.
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  III.
forty-five days remain.
the all encompassing feeling of despair isn't new — not really, not generally.
this version of it, however, was.
days spent in bed with the curtains closed — not willing to risk allowing any access to you from the outside world, your work laptop and phone long since exiled to the living room — rarely to be checked, and not that any work would be done to begin with. the threatening sorrow deep within reminded you starkly of the day just after it happened; inconsolable and completely lost within yourself, you hated returning to that place — not that you had felt as though you had ever truly left it, perhaps only found ways to cope through it. sometimes.
but you missed him, you missed him desperately.
weeks since you wished him to leave your side, the dull, burning sensation in your chest only growing stronger and stronger with each passing day, eventually morphing into an aching throb — the sound of your own heartbeat ringing loud and clear in your ear every second of the day, and so loudly that sleep find itself unattainable — with bloodshot eyes and a tremble in your hand, you make your way to your bathroom sink to splash water over your face once, then twice — dragging your palms over the lifeless flesh as the throb once again morphs; your face turning in ache along with the pain — distinctly knife-twisting, you akin it to...vaguely recalling the feeling during a camping accident years back.
it can't be love, you'd been in love before. this was entirely new, and different, and utterly horrifying.
you couldn't help but wonder how much truth there was to his parting words to you that afternoon.
if nothing else, chalking it up to a reason to get you showered and out of the house was perhaps good enough, shrugging your black winter coat on and shoving your feet into similarly black boots before heading out. sometimes everyone just needs a bit of a push, regardless of how asinine the reason.
the “soul bond,” as he called it. the thing that tied you and minho to one another forever and for always, now. inescapable and inexplicable in nature — entirely supernatural and not something you could ever really wrap your head around.
if it were to be true, of course.
and you weren't typically one to go around playing along with ghost stories, perhaps it all simply a reason — an attempt — to go find him again.
finding yourself in front of the same vine-covered building that he had once taken you to before, was not what you were expecting.
wind blowing and pulling your coat into yourself, you squint towards the front door of the familiar building. perhaps it was a mistake, perhaps you had been leading yourself all along, and all of this “soul bond” stuff was just a delusion — taking yourself back to a place where you had your last, fond memory with the man.
a particularly sharp twist of the proverbial knife in your chest, followed by the immediate dulling of the pain you'd been feeling for weeks tells you otherwise, though.
slowly pushing the large, wooden doors open, you recall the main entrance of it to be empty — truth be told, you remembered the entirety of it to be unlived in, but perhaps you had missed something. had minho taken you to his own home weeks back? had you simply never noticed the common adornments of a building holding tenants?
rather, a tenant.
“what are you doing here?”
the voice, low but not especially booming — carries through the empty walls of the apartment building as if with more life than present. nearly jumping out of your skin at the unexpected call, you manage to still your heart at your ability to immediately recognize the voice.
but not the figure before you.
the minho standing before you, and the minho whose hand delicately encompassed your own compassionately — impossibly mirrored now in front of your eyes. recalling a once beautiful, healthy, glow to the mans skin, sparkling eyes and a bright smile — what stands before you now is a vague carcass of what once was; somewhat familiar in all of the same ways but frighteningly unfamiliar as well. sickly pale and slumped against a door frame, arm wrapped around his own chest as if necessary to hold himself together more literally than figuratively, you can hear the way that he stands out of breath at just a few, short words having left his mouth.
“m—minho?”
his head falling to the side, you catch a glimpse beneath the collar of his shirt at the unfinished snake tattoo residing on his neck — now to the naked and distant eye nearly fully formed and angry red even from where you stand.
“jesus, you look terrible,” you huff, rushing towards him. “what's wrong? we should get you to a doctor.”
minho chuckles, air catching in his throat slightly and causing him to cough.
“you should leave,” he groans, pulling himself up and off of the wooden frame and slowly heading back up the winding, dark forest green staircase — lined with chipping wood and a loud creek with every footstep.
you follow just behind. “minho! i'm serious, you don't look well.”
“i have been better, yes,” he chuckles in response, carrying on up the steps slowly.
it's a last ditch effort to make your case, you still.
“i believe you.”
minho matches you, hand gripping the old, cheaply painted gold handrail of the staircase.
“the stuff about the...the soul bond or whatever, i—“ you pause, accepting the fact that in speaking the words out loud, it is truly the first time that you will be taking on the truth of the matter, as well. “i...believe you.”
silence taking the both of you, only the sound of minho's heavy, ragged breathing and the occasional wood cracking beneath either of your feet, the man just in front of you sighs — then takes another step forward.
“you should come inside.”
upon entering, you come to be taken aback by how well kept the interior of his living arrangements are comparatively to the rest of the building — seemingly brand new furnishings, wallpapering, knickknacks and personal items carefully and thoughtfully placed about the apartment — surprisingly lived in by in the most welcoming way. dark, and sultry, and entirely his.
your attention is quickly brought back to him, however, struggling physically to make his way to a small table to sit — a small stack of old books residing atop it and a glass of some sort of dark liquor — quite obviously drank from even in spite of it being so early on in the day, but with the curtains tightly pulled shut, one could find it easy to believe it to be a perfectly fine time to drown one's troubles.
but minho didn't appear drunk, he was worn down.
“i made a mistake.”
they're the first words out of his mouth since inviting you into his space, eyes pulled from you and instead staring a hole into the wooden table.
a tone you're all too familiar with: disappointment in oneself.
“it's just...all wrong,” he begins again, getting sharper but sounding as if he's speaking only to himself. “ultimately, we're supposed to be good. we're not supposed to prey on the weak, on vulnerable people.”
and for the first time since meeting minho, he looks and sounds broken. it's so intimate and inviting to you, and surely for all of the wrong reasons, but for the first time you truly feel as though you understand him. that he understands you.
the closeness of vulnerability; painfully raw and exposed for another person to see. if I show you the worst parts of me, will you still desire me? will you still love me? will you still have me?
but in weakness, there is strength — if you know how to spin it.
“minho, i—“
but instead of words — empty and lacking passion, made painfully evident to you over the past months, you allow yourself the freedom to show him, lunging towards him and taking his face into both palms to pull his face up and towards your own — bent down and over just enough to press your mouth to his. you're not sure what you expected upon making the contact — minho is not just a man and that you accept to be true, but the taste is still just as familiar; flesh and saliva and the faintest hint of rum. you kiss him deeper at the lack of his insistence to pull away, and instead are met with eager hands reaching out and towards your hips to pull you down and onto his lap. you're more than happy to — more willing than you had originally anticipated in fact, taken aback by the way the desire for him bubbles up in your abdomen far quicker than you would have thought at the forwardness.
minho finally allows himself into the kiss, gently pressing his tongue through parted lips to taste you, simultaneously pulling you harder against his lap — unsure if purposefully or out of habit, out of want — but an unimportant detail all the same.
and then he pulls away.
“wait—“
breathy and a little dazed, the man pulls from your mouth and squeezes his eyes shut to gain some composure.
“we can't, I can't.”
more games.
irritated and impatient and feeling dragged along, you quickly remove yourself from him and go to speak — pulling the words back in realization that they may be a bit too harsh, and fully out of an angry, upset, and rejected place. taking a deep breath, you mull over the options of what to say again.
“what are we doing, minho?” you finally land on. “what game is this? what's the point of this?”
exhaling heavily and carding fingers through his dark hair, minho allows for his head to fall back to stare at the ceiling, as if now having lost the last bit of hope he had once carried for the scenario between the two of you carrying on in any kind of productive or positive way.
as if doomed from here on out, and the two of you may as well roll with the punches.
“i'm—“ minho pauses just as quickly as he begins his statement, as if still reluctant to carry on. “i'm going to tell you. everything.”
“what does that mean? what do you mean 'tell me everything'?” you question just as quick, without as much as a second passing.
he exhales again, wincing slightly as he pulls himself forward to press elbows into the darkened wood of the table — as if painfully labored by even the simplest physical task.
the truth being, of course, that he is.
“do you know what an incubus is?”
staring at him for a few moments before replying, you huff out a chuckle, as if having heard the most ridiculous joke. “yes, I mean...sort of,” you answer. “what? are you going to tell me you're an incubus?”
minho opts out of a verbal response, turning his head and pulling the collar of his shirt away from his neck to expose the quickly developing tattoo gracing his neck — the skin around red and raised as if poisoned with infection, you squint at the sight of it — repulsed.
“the tattoo forms when we're meant to carry out our mission,” he begins, ignoring your playful response to the sentiment. “every man has to do it — many succeed, most fail. start to finish it's ninety days, although most lose a few in the beginning having not noticed the marking — I did, lost three.”
turning back to comfortably lean into the table, he continues.
“it's a reproductive mission, crass for humans but it is what it is,” he starts again, a bit of a smile at trying to explain it eloquently enough to a human woman. “that's where the soul bonding comes in — we choose a partner, place the soul bond so that the mission can go forward.”
“y—you're going to impregnate me?” you ask, voice shaken with evident worry, but minho only laughs in response — a single fingertip circling the rim of his glass.
“no — well, not if you don't want me to, that's sort of the whole thing,” he says. “there are prerequisites that have to be met, you could say.”
“you could say,” you mirror back to him in utter disbelief.
“you have to be willing, completely; no coercion or manipulation. no use of substances that otherwise alter your ability to make informed decisions — it has to all be by the book,” he answers. “and you have to be in love with me.”
“what the fuck,” you exhale heavily, stepping backwards and towards the nearest chair to seat yourself down on. “what happens if...any of that shit does happen? like what if you just...drug me?”
“if I break the rules with intent, then I die.” minho says, matter of factly. “if we break the rules, we both die.”
“so if we have sex right now, what will happen?”
“we'll both die.”
“what the fuck.”
minho nods, finally bringing the glass up to his lips and taking the first sip since you entered the apartment with him. you take what feels like your first breath in the meantime.
then you remember: the timeline.
“how—“ you pause, wondering how delicately it is that you should ask it. “how long...do you have?”
minho hums as if thinking over the answer. you know well enough that he knows it down to the hour. who wouldn't.
“bit over a month.”
“a month!?” you exclaim, lurching forward in your chair. “how are we supposed to make this work in a month? i'm supposed to fall in love with you in a month?”
with the words leaving your lips, you realize how much of yourself you've already — and somewhat unwilling — given yourself to this man. less horrified, afraid for ones own well being — instead, your immediate impulse is one of trying to understand how it is that the two of you can make this actually happen.
not whether you can fall in love with him, but rather, how to ensure that you do.
“well, that's sort of the work of the soul bonding, but no, it can't do all of the work,” he says, setting the glass down again and finally looking up at you for the first time since the conversation began. “at the end of the day, it's up to me to choose a suitable partner, and if I don't, then so be it.”
eyes locked with minho's, you mull over the options in your mind. still raw and hurting from the not so distant past, the idea of allowing oneself to succumb to this sort of life — a life with this man — perhaps seeming more reassuring and comforting given the circumstances of your current life.
is it the way that you feel, the soul bond, or a little bit of both? could you love this man? and more than that, could you love him in time.
perhaps you were bound to a life of love and loss: always being just enough, but all the while a little too late.
“why did you tell me this?”
he takes another sip, then shrugs.
“i told you about the soul bond, you tested it out, you accepted it to be truth — figured it only right to fully inform you the rest of the way.”
“a demon with a conscience, eh?” you quip, light in tone, as if in an attempt to break up the heavy mood of the conversation.
minho chuckles into the glass still pressed against his lips.
“and i'll pay for that in due time, as well.”
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  IV.
thirty-one days remain.
standing outside of that worn down building once again, feeling in real time as the visceral burning dissipates, you wish more than anything that you didn't believe — didn't have to believe. didn't have to be there at all.
be there for him.
but as the days and weeks drawled on, with your calls and texts to minho falling to silence, the pain only continues to be that much more unbearable. unbearable being without him — now fully aware of the ways in which he suffers with each passing day — knowledge that lends itself to being not only physically, but mentally excruciating.
perhaps you were there just as much for yourself, as you were for him.
hand raised to a fist outside of the large, wooden door — you still just before making contact, mentally preparing for what it was that you may find standing before you if he were to answer the door.
three timid knocks, then silence following.
seconds that feel like eternity passing by between the last and any semblance of a response, you worry of the potential outcomes; you were aware of the time he had, mind racing with the thought of how much more he had degraded in such a short time.
then you hear the clicking sound of the door unlocking, the turning of a handle, and the creaking of antique, parting wood as it cracks open.
only a sliver of vision, your eyes make contact with one of minho's, peeking through the tiny allowance he's granted.
“you shouldn't be here,” he croaks. “you should leave.”
dark circles under the eye that you can see, puffy and hooded from lack of sleep — pale, barely any tone in his voice, your heart drops at the sights and sounds before you.
you know you can't.
lifting your laptop bag for him to see, you smile gently — an awkward offering to the man trying to send you away even in your desperate unwillingness to do so. you may relent to him later, in the future — for his future.
but not now, not today — in either way.
“change of scenery,” you chime out in an attempt to bring up the mood, maybe even convince him that you're not there completely out of worry for him. “try to get some writing done, since I can't seem to do anything at home.”
minho takes pause at the words before allowing a heavy sigh and pulling the door open further for you. it's progress, you think.
the apartment is messier than the last time you had entered it — more clothing, papers, books strewn about, and in ways, feels like a spitting image of your own home. places where people allow themselves to fall apart slowly — a lack of care for oneself, for the surroundings. minho slowly makes his way to one of the navy blue lounge chairs on the other end of the living area — a small table with a mug and book placed atop it — and settles back in to where he must have been before your arrival. you look to your side to find a matching one just near you, and settle yourself on the side of it not yet claimed a home by piles of reading materials.
you can't help but think to how charming it is, if not for all of the baggage, of course.
setting your laptop up and pulling some files with papers out of the bag alongside, you make yourself comfortable in the dimly lit space — perhaps not many peoples idea of the ideal working space, but you figure it can't be worse than back home.
nothing really could.
your eyes pull up at every small movement minho makes, watching as thin, sickly fingers — many wrapped in bandages — wrap around his white mug to pull it towards his lips. he has a tremor now, you're sure that you would have noticed it last time had it been present then.
a familiar pang of pain straight to the chest, you know it well.
looking back towards the screen, fingertips pressing into the keyboard finally.
“can I ask you something?”
gaze pulling towards him again, you nod.
“why did he leave?”
another pang — in part by the forced recollection of him at all, in other part due to the fact that he hadn't.
you chuckle under your breath, it's a reminder that you allowed this to happen by all of the noncommittal commentary on the matter up until this point. figure, now is as good a time as any to clear the air.
“he didn't,” you answer, looking back down towards the illuminated screen. “he killed himself.”
minho pauses having not anticipated the response before apologizing, reminding that he hadn't known. you know that. it doesn't make it feel better, though.
truthfully, you hadn't talked about it much with anyone, outside of the briefly appointed grief counselor, and even then — it was too fresh to really delve into at that point.
but maybe you were ready now.
“we, uh—“ you begin again, cutting the anxiousness of the surrounding air. “we weren't together very long, it was sort of a whirlwind romance thing — kind of, textbook sappy romance story between two damaged artist types.”
“i take it he was more damaged, then.” minho says, perhaps a bit bluntly, but you appreciate the way in which he simply speaks to you — so acutely lacking in pity.
“much more,” you answer. “i thought I could fix him, I guess you always do — always want to when you see the potential, the love in someone. he was an amazing, beautiful man, but he had demons. in the end, they were insurmountable.”
“and he left you just as damaged along the way.”
corner of your mouth pulling up at the words, you blink slowly at the thought — of course it had crossed your mind. so many nights spent crying, guilty, blaming yourself for all of the ways you couldn't help him in spite of never having the tools to do so to begin with — efforts repaid in suffocating debt, trauma, and on your worst nights — wishing to go out just the same way he had.
“i guess he did, yeah,” you smile through the pain. “i still love him, too, that's the crazy thing.”
“of course you do,” minho says into the rim of his mug. “it's never as simple as, 'I shouldn't, so I don't,' it would be so easy to navigate, then.”
“if i'm being honest, meeting you is the first time that i've really felt anything good, or positive, since then.” you hastily admit, a little surprised with yourself the moment the words leave your lips.
but honest it is.
“it's only fair then if i'm honest about the fact that it's probably the soul bond that's accelerating those feelings towards me.” he chuckles, placing his mug down and reaching towards a book on the table.
“maybe,” you reply, exhaling strongly at the thought before finally gaining the courage to look towards the man again. “but then again, I fell for him hard and fast as well and i'm pretty sure he wasn't an incubus.”
later that evening having left minho's residence, the near strangling feeling of a mutual longing seemingly replaced by the comfort of it, warms you in the cool, wet, night breeze.
but when a text rings through, the feeling is ripped from you just as quickly.
“you shouldn't come here anymore. it's best if we bear the burden of this for just a short while longer, separately.
when I pass, the pain will dissipate, you can live normally then. like before we met.”
“like before we met.”
with that, you turn heel and run back up the white stone steps of the building, barreling through the large main entrance doors and racing back up the noisy, worn stairs to the apartment lived and presumably to be died in by him — slamming your fist against the door in earnest juxtaposed to the way you had arrived just hours earlier in the day, but this time, you're left to yourself as the pounding of your hand sends echoing booms through the otherwise empty halls of the tall, forgotten architecture.
“minho!” you yell, voice already broken and worn from just the mere thought of leaving him to himself. of leaving him to suffer and die on his own.
“minho! let me in!”
knocking continuing, you consider momentarily if your insistence to carry on is unfair to him — after all, you cannot commit to the order of doing what would be necessary of you to save him.
you're not sure if you ever can. factors entirely out of your own hands, perhaps if logically capable of fully making the decision for yourself — to love him, to have him, to bear his children, you would.
how does one choose to love another? perhaps there is always a moment. a millisecond of option. “i can accept this, or I can walk away.”
you don't know yet, but you know it's worth a shot.
“there would be no greater torture to me,” you begin, fist stilling against the door and head dropping forward to meet it. “than to go back to the way things were before I met you.”
silence takes the halls again before the sound of movement inside of the apartment becomes apparent. minho leaves the door shut between the both of you, but you can feel his presence burning strongly on the other side.
“three weeks, no contact,” he says through the door.
“if you still feel the same about it, and me — this, what this truly could mean for you, we can revisit it then.”
“deal.”
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  V.
ten days remain.
four knocks.
silence.
the time there after feels like an eternity to you, standing there in the empty, forgotten hallway of an apartment building long since abandoned by all other tenants — unkempt and in it's own ways, a representation of the death creeping up and through it via the residency of the only key holder still present.
minho eventually opens the door — slowly, as if he can barely manage the task himself.
he coughs into the bend of his elbow before speaking, the turn of his head giving you a clear view of the now perfectly formed tattoo that brands him.
your throat burns at the sight — despair, sadness, the desperate need to not do this again.
“head is killing me,” he says lightly, as if trying to spruce up the tone of the situation. “surprised you're here.”
bullishly pushing inside of the doorway, only taking note of dealing with the weak man before you gently but with intent all the same, you kick your shoes off in a hurry and hang your coat — dropping a duffle bag near the doorway that minho hadn't noticed slung across your shoulder at first.
“you couldn't tell I was coming?” you question with a quirk of your eyebrow, watching as minho delicately holds his weight up by a shoulder on the wall just in front of you after having closed the door. he shakes his head.
“too sick, I can't really feel it all that well anymore.”
the words send an all too familiar tightening to your chest — after all of this; time, emotion, and whatever the fuck else the powers that be entails — minho can't even feel the otherworldly presence that he, himself, established between the both of you.
the soul bond wasn't broken, merely loosening its grip in anticipation for his perceived failure.
“minho—“
reaching one hand forward, fingers curling into the fabric of the loose button down shirt adorning his chest — too dark of hue and surroundings to even be able to make out the color, you take heed of his inability to be handled roughing — instead using the leverage to bring yourself to him and wrapping limbs around his torso. it's the first time you remember truly feeling him like this — the first embrace all too wrapped up in heady want and eroticity to really be able to take him in, but it's the ease in which you feel his bones under the skin and fabric that weighs heavy on your mind — the absence of muscle as you had once noticed on him when the two of you first met.
a damning reminder of just how far along he had come.
fingers curling even tighter into the fabric on his back now, you rest your face onto him, even in spite of the fact that the gesture had not been returned.
“i'm here because I want to be with you. i'm here because I made my choice.”
you hear the way that minho's breath catches in his lungs at the words as they leave your mouth.
“whatever all of that means, whatever it entails...i want that. before I met you, I may as well had already been dead anyways — hell, I had been fucking wishing for it.”
your fingers curl tighter into him, trying to close space between your bodies that doesn't exist with each word.
“a second chance, a new life — I want that,” you say, pulling back from him and looking him straight in the eye, minho quite obviously too weak to truly meet your enthusiasm, but eyes widened all the same. “i want you.”
you close the distance between your mouths quickly, as if afraid that if given too much time to think about it, he'll convince himself of another reason in which he should attempt to strip you of your agency regarding the situation. you don't let him, pulling him tightly against you again — it only takes the tiniest amount of strength to have him back against the wall, his mouth finally moving against yours in the heat of the moment — those same pale, bandaged hands now snaking up the expanse of your back to meet your advances and you're thankful. thankful that he'll finally allow you to. thankful that he'll finally accept you.
until he pulls his head up and away from your own, staring at the dark ceiling above and with a heavy sigh.
“i have to tell you something,” he sighs, an active choice to confess without the bravery of eye contact. “i've already chosen failure. I can't go through with it.”
hands on his chest, you push yourself away from him with more might than you felt proud of, in the heat of the moment, an angry cry manifesting physically — you wanted to hit him, you wanted to do anything it took to shake this asinine sense of duty out of him that he evidently felt so compelled to uphold for your sake. this wasn't the deal: show up and revisit the discussion — but it turns out that minho's mind had already been made up all along.
you break down then and there, dropping to your knees and sobbing into your hands just before him — not verbally begging, pleading for him, but the visual manifestation of it. a woman broken, and left without options, unsure of what else to do or where else to go from here.
and before her? another man who wishes to choose death instead.
“you're so selfish,” you spit, and it's much to minho's surprise — the venom in your tone as the words finally leave your mouth through the sobs. “throwing your life away for no fucking reason...because you think it makes you good? righteous to do so?”
looking down at you, eyebrows raised in suspense at the sight at his feet, he sighs — a never ending journey of trying to find the words, and trying to find the right choices.
“my life has no merit in the way that you're used to,” he says, dry as if speaking of the weather, or any other inane topic that could come to mind. “i'm not human, there's no use attributing human characteristics to me, or my life. i'm not a person that is dying.”
attention snapping up to meet his eyes, you're taken aback by the words and how simply he says them — not because he's wrong, or even because of the lack of empathy lacing his tone as he says it.
“i don't care,” you whisper, choked words managing to find their way out and to his ears up above. “i don't care about any of that, why do you think I fucking care about that?”
for a split second, minho admits to himself silently — that he hadn't.
“i just want to be with you, that's it,” you continue on. “whatever it takes, that's it. whatever it is, it's better than the life I had been living.”
minho stills, but grants you silence in response — a positive change from the asinine arguments he had previously insisted on bestowing upon you, and this time you think maybe you actually had reached him.
finally.
wiping away the wetness under your eyes from your heartfelt declaration, you stand — carefully finding your footing once again before looking back towards him and meeting the man face to face to assess the situation at hand.
he remains silent.
“how much time do you have left?”
minho clears his throat gently, “about a week and a half.”
you huff in response, playfully tapping his arm with the back of your hand which causes him to flinch — as if having been anticipating you actually hitting him, it makes you chuckle, but you choose not to acknowledge it in favor of other, more pressing topics.
“plenty of time to convince you, then.”
one side of his mouth upturning, the sight so rare to behold nowadays you're not sure you even remember the last time you saw it.
“now who's beginning to sound like the demon?”
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VI.
nine days remain.
with a small amount of your own belongings; books, blankets, memoirs from the past carrying all of your memories thus far — along with his — having pieces of your own life now intermingling with minho's feels more at home. the darkness of a sorrowful apartment ever so slightly lifted by your presence both in person and in items, it's a harrowing reminder of what is impossibly forgotten as is — minho quickly deteriorating before your very eyes now with each passing day; sometimes unable to open the jar he opened only the day before, and if you're unlucky enough, catching the view of the tissue he coughs blood into before he's able to hurriedly tuck it away and out of your line of vision.
but as the days carry on, the two of you make an attempt to simply enjoy them together. each night tucked away together under a blanket in front of the television or the fireplace — at first out of logistic necessity, until fingertips brush underneath and out of sight and turn into digits intertwined without a second thought, or a chilled breeze from an open window sending a shiver down your spine that shakes through minho — pulling you into himself for warmth, now simply the ways in which the nights begin.
you look forward to the evenings, to feeling normal together. the only time you don't find yourself thinking about the future.
half past midnight and the setting the same as always, the television dances illumination across the dark walls as minho holds your hand tightly within his own. it's comforting, and feels deceptively strong in spite of his condition.
“i'm gonna make some tea,” you whisper, delicately turning your head to face him. “do you want anything?”
but minho's gaze lingers on your features for much longer than you had anticipated it to, and with silence at that. watching his eyes scan your features as if taking each and every one in for a memory he plans to keep with him forever — it feels overwhelming, and as if a reminder of all of the things that you used these moments together to forget.
minho didn't want to forget. he wanted to take you with him, where ever it was he was planning on going.
“m-minho—“
the thought it cut short by lips against yours suddenly, more eager than usual and bursting with the thrill of infrequent initiation by him, his hand quickly makes its way up and against your face, further back and into your hair to pull you deeper and harder against him — melting into the kiss, you're more than willing to finally give in. rushed and passionate, you waste little time using the back of the couch as leverage to pull yourself up and delicately place yourself into the mans lap once again — a familiar feeling, hopefully with a different outcome.
minho pulls away briefly and your heartbeat skips in your chest, assuming to be met with the same hesitation as before, but met with a heavy sigh instead — a combination of nerves, anxiety, uncertainty for sure — a hand reaching up and once again pulling your mouth down and onto his, your worry melts away and into the kiss, swallowed whole by the man that you wish to give everything to, even if at the cost of your own self.
an absolutely and completely selfless love — born of heartache and trauma, paraded around by the ghosts of a man he never even knew. the beneficiary of your wounds.
for a moment, you think that you've won finally; pulling from his lips and trailing your own down the cold, pale skin of his jaw, but it's the upheaval of your warmth that sends him crashing back down, and right on time.
“wait—“ he whispers, voice throaty and well within the throes of desire. “i don't think—“
“why won't you let me?” you ask, shuffling yourself back in his lap to grant yourself more space to kiss down the expanse of his neck. “this was the point, right? of this? of everything? us meeting?”
“i want to,” you add, just before dragging teeth along his skin, and it's precisely that that has him stilling completely from beneath you — holding his breath and heartbeat rising at the understanding of the words.
“my being in love with you is precisely why I can't.”
the confession comes out much more daunting than you would have anticipated it to. typically the words that one can only dream of hearing from the person which they adore, now only serving as a complete and utter betrayal to your ears.
simultaneously, you pull off of minho as he gently moves to pry you from him as well, the both of you acknowledging the moment in time to have passed, minho exhales with a heavy heart — both of his palms splayed across his face and rubbing harshly, as if in an attempt to wipe away the mess that he had just made with his own words.
you lie back on the couch, lengthwise, legs across minho's lap and sigh. you're displeased with how normal the situation had become to you — with how comfortable you felt in rejection by him.
“why is death better than lifetimes together?” you ask plainly, staring daggers into the side of his head as he thinks through his admission. “all because of your bizarre idea of what makes a human man 'good,' while you're not even granting me the agency to make an informed decision for myself?”
“i know.” he chokes out past his hands, bringing them down afterwards and pressing his back against the couch to stare at the ceiling. “it feels wrong.”
“why?” you bite back, swallowing the sexual rejection once again and taking on a more light tone to soften the mood. “because i'm damaged?” you finish, sarcasm lacing the word.
minho's head falls to the side to meet your eyes, he nods slowly.
“we're all damaged,” you reply dryly. “some of us have just made peace with it better than others have.”
“you want me to kill you?” he asks, an eyebrow quirked at the ease in which you admit to the words. “is that what this is for you? just some long, drawn out, agonized love story that finally ends the way that you want it?” he huffs, turning away and towards the ceiling again.
“not with a happily ever after — at least, not what most people would akin to one.”
silence takes the room at the question the man before you sends out into the air — minho always so blunt with his words, never sparing a feeling in expressing himself one way or another, it almost hurts, the way that he says it to you.
“maybe you don't really like me at all,” he adds suddenly. “maybe like in so many other human interactions — you simply like what I can give you. the idea of me. what I represent.”
“that's not true, minho.”
allowing himself to fall and lie beside you, minho chuckles into your ear — breathy, but without intent — rather, amused by the turn that the evening has taken, but an arm reaching out and over your torso all the same. a comforting gesture, you're pleased by the intent.
“suppose you never truly know someone's intentions until the deed is done, now do you?”
deep into the night and hours later, you awaken in the same spot as you last remember, minho carefully removing himself from beside you and upon catching your eyes, nodding his head towards his bedroom as a signal that he is off to sleep.
pausing, he leans down, hand on the back of the couch and propping himself up and over you.
“come to bed with me?”
minutes feel like hours as they pass, curled into layers upon layers of sheets and blankets — no doubt doubled and tripled up in his weakened state, much more susceptible to the cold of the winter months — but you think now more than ever, after everything else, after tonight.
this has to be the time, because more than anything else, he's running out of it.
you turn to face him — lain on his back and eyes closed, bringing your hand under the covers and slowly making contact with the skin of his side before gently snaking up and over his stomach, you can feel the band of his underwear at your pinky finger — serving of an incredibly jarring reminder of what it is that you're about to do.
the chance that you're about to take.
because minho is wrong in so many ways. you don't wish to die, and especially not by his hand. maybe before, and perhaps not even that long ago, but not now.
not tonight.
muscle tensing under your touch and serving as knowledge that the man lie awake, you press yourself closer to him completely, hand gradually dipping down further and further along his stomach, you can hear his sharp inhale — the beginning of words that you've heard so many times before, no doubt.
“you know what will happen, if you're wrong.”
different from the typical defiance he greets you with, it's not an insistence to stop, but rather a reminder of the consequences should it go awry.
should you be unsure.
“i know,” you whisper back to him, hand gently wrapping around him beneath the confines of the fabric and feeling the way he melts into the mattress at your touch. “i know.”
the first an acknowledgment of his words, the second, affirmation.
and for the first time, minho meets you halfway. slowly sitting up and rolling you onto your back, you think that it's the first time you've ever truly felt him take charge of the situation in such a way. so many scenarios in which you were the bringer of all that would follow, any attempt at furthering things, anything at all — from bullied visits to physicality to moving yourself into his home — minho's future rested entirely on you.
he never met you halfway, not until now.
nestling himself between your legs, long forgoing sleeping with much clothing given the nature of the relationship between the two of you, which the sheet pulled back as a result of the movement you find yourself bare and exposed to him — only panties separating you and him from whatever the future may entail, and minho scans your body in the same way he had scanned your features just before — taking in the sight, just in case he may never see it again.
fingers hooked into the elastic sides of the fabric, gently slid down your legs and dropped to the floor at the side of the bed, minho climbs over you and settles between them — lips finding the heat of your skin and languid kisses dripped along your neck, you sigh, hands coming up and finally feeling the bare muscle of his back, albeit long since diminished and instead replaced with bone.
back arching into his touch, it's that very motion that brings you into contact with him — hard and heavy at the apex of your thighs.
and just like that, your resolve snaps.
heart rate spiking, you try to ignore it, pulling his face up to kiss you and diving into it with much more neediness than his own, minho catches the change in demeanor, attempting to pull away but instead being met with even more fervor from your mouth. chest to chest, he feels your stress, the anxiety — the way it so clearly physically manifests beneath him.
untangling his limbs from your own much to your distress, minho pulls up and away, sitting back on his heels and suspicion strong in his features.
“don't stop!” you beg, leaning up and trying to grab his hands and arms to pull him back down and against you. “please! please don't stop!” you carry on, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and not at all lost on minho as he wisps his fingers through his hair — partial disappointment, partial understanding, partial acceptance of what it means — wrapped neatly in a bow and weighed heavily on his mind, minho nods before pulling one of the sheets over and around his waist as he gets up to remove himself from the bed.
and just before exiting the bedroom, he stops, shoulder against the broken down wood of the door frame — an expression of moral quandary, but ultimately — deliberately and necessarily good.
“i will not be the instrument in which you use to end your own life.”
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VII.
two days remain.
the next day is quiet in the apartment.
the tattoo is fully formed, as far as the eye can tell.
minho makes dinner at about 5pm, just the same as he always does — setting the table slowly, carefully, unable to move with any sort of agility of quickness to his step and occasionally, subtly losing his balance along the way. hesitantly making your way into the small dining room, you attempt to help whilst simultaneously staying out of his way, as to not make his life any harder than it already has to be.
what's left of it, anyway.
“that cupboard,” minho begins, nodding towards a particular place just to your right. “the nice wine glasses, get those.”
verbally you don't respond, but reaching in, you bring out two and set them on the table atop either plate placements.
you can't help feeling as though it's a farewell ceremony. his last supper. make it nice.
dinner isn't anything out of the ordinary, perhaps due to the fact that minho had mentioned in a passing comment once that he wasn't much of a chef — his dinners expressing otherwise, you decline in pointing out that rather than his inability to be skilled in the craft, it was his deteriorating health and physical capabilities that barred him from such things. it made you sad, watching him waste away before your very eyes at such an alarming rate it was impossible to ignore — every day more and more of him falling away, more and more of the man you loved giving himself up to failure, and a false sense of righteousness, at that.
it was painful, but you wouldn't let him go alone.
pouring a glass of red wine for each of you, he settles into his seat across — neither of you willing to acknowledge the goings on of the night before. suppose there was no reason — more of the same, although the hesitancy on your end likely feeding all that much more into minho's decision to not go through with his mission. the throbbing, twisting pain of the dagger in your heart all the more present since — you knew what you wanted, was it so wrong to be scared when faced with ones own mortality?
did it really prove your intent otherwise?
fork idly spinning into your pasta, eyes staring a hole straight through the plate, the table, and into the floor boards, you know the answer to the question — but you have to hear it all the same.
“how long is it now?”
“tomorrow,” he answers dryly, little emotion to his tone at all — eyes similarly staring down and into his food.
“why did you choose me?”
eyes pulling up briefly to meet your own having already done the same, minho delicately places his silverware down and instead trades the items for the glass of wine just before him — taking a sip before offering the answer to your query.
“incubi feel potential links long before we establish it,” he says, placing the glass down again with bandaged fingers remaining at the stem. “it's up to us to choose wisely and do what it takes to fulfill our mission.”
you feel the intense welling of emotion bubbling in your chest again — the painful reminder of all of the ways that you're failing yet another person that you love.
if his failure is as good as death, perhaps it was the living with it that encompassed true hell.
tears pooling in the corners of your eyes again, throat burning, you set down your silverware just as he had moments prior — attempting to bite back the feeling, the emotion. telling yourself that you can't keep doing this, you can't keep crying about this.
dumping more of the pain onto him, and at the same time blaming it entirely on him.
but you're not strong enough to swallow it down, not in the last hours.
“why me!” you finally cry out at him, and perhaps louder than you had initially intended. “why put the burden on me?”
minho snaps back, pushing his plate away from himself abruptly along with his chair from the table. “it's not your burden, it's mine,” he spits, white hot and venomous and with more bitterness than you've ever heard from him before.
and who could blame him.
“fucking forgive me for not weighing as heavily on yours.”
a nod to the types of suffering, each other's shoes impossible to feel the steps of any longer.
hands to your face again, trying to hold it together, knowing that the display doesn't help — nor does it necessarily hurt, but it serves neither of you, that much is certain.
“i have to watch another man I love die.”
“then don't watch.”
minho's parting words of the evening as he carefully escorts himself out of the dining room and towards his bedroom to hide himself away — wincing with every heavy step, it's a sorrowful sight to see.
dead man walking.
less than an hour passes before you quietly push the door to the room open after him, minho lying chest down on the bed and facing away — for a split second, you're worried it's already happened, unable to view the rise and fall of his breathing from his body. you sneak over to him and cautiously place yourself beside him, atop the covers that lie over him and face his own.
you can't bear the thought of being apart from him, not like this, not now.
eyes remaining shut, you find yourself taking in the sights of his face just as he had done the same to you — before the relationship unraveled in such rash, unexpected ways as it had in the past few hours. the stress of the remaining moments no doubt taking their hold — you wanted nothing more than to go out of this with the reminder of all of the good and beautiful that he was, if it were to be the only thing he would be willing to leave you.
not himself, and not a future; just another memory to file away in the book that would ultimately find itself never to be written. another failure in a long line, nearly indistinguishable from one another as the amount grows vast through the years.
“will you wake up?”
eyes remaining shut, minho simply utters out “not sure, they don't give the details upon failure all that clearly.”
you frown at his nonchalance, albeit finding it charming in all of the ways that it is simply him.
“most simply succeed.”
startling awake, minho's head twists suddenly to the side to glance at the clock — unsure of exactly what it is that he expects to find upon being so suddenly jarred out of his slumber. clock reading 3:25am, it's still a few moments of incoherence before the familiarity of the feeling comes barreling back to him.
your hands on his bare skin.
“wake up,” he whispers into the cold, night air of the bedroom, but it's your voice ringing back that you are awake and well aware of the goings on that brings his heart to beat heavy in his chest — skin raising under your fingertips as you retrace your steps from just the night before.
“i'm not going to be a coward,” you whisper back, settling up and onto an elbow to look down at his features — only illuminated by the sliver of artificial light shining through the crack of the blinds on the other side of the room. “i won't be a slave to my trauma.”
pulling up further and settling into a kneeling position over him, minho watches your every movement with intent, swallowing hard at the vision before him and throat burning hot and dry with every swallow of his saliva.
“i'm in love with you, and i'll do anything it takes.”
reaching your hand down and between the both of you, carefully lining him up with yourself and slowly descending down on him — it's bittersweet — certainly not anyones dream of a first time together with someone they love, but for all intents and purposes, just as impactful, and just as meaningful.
you know you're sure, without a doubt in your mind — and even if you weren't, for him it was worth it.
minho's breath hitches as your hips meet his own, flush against him and fully engulfed — you lean down to press your chest to his own, kissing him hard and with fervor, with passion. all of the words you failed to let loose in any sort of meaningful or eloquent way — they resided here and now in this as his hands reach up to capture your face; pulling your mouth even harder against his own. it's sloppy and ragged, his breath already unsteady at the deliberate push and pull of your grind against him — you can't help but think that it's a new intimacy shared, and only shared between the two of you now. impossibly manufactured or mimicked...no one else could ever have this moment — forever and always, it would only be the two of you.
dragging your mouth down the skin of his chin and to his jaw, minho groans at the feeling as you take him — whimpers dripping from your lips and against him with every draw forward of your hips.
“be mine?” he whispers out, slightly choked but with a smirk laced in the tone in spite of the fact that you don't see it, but the intention behind the question has your mind racing even more than before, surprisingly turned on by the implications and fingernails digging all that much harder into his shoulders as you hear them.
“you remember, right?” he adds, hand lacing into your hair now and gently pulling your head back up and in front of his own, your foreheads pressed together as minho studies your features all over again.
and by now he's become a part of the journey — his own hips pressing up and against you with the best of his ability — you're not sure it's all enough to get you there, but it's the last thing on your mind, given the circumstances.
“can you do it for me?” minho groans against your mouth at a particularly hard thrust. “take all of me?”
you nod swiftly, not sure if he's truly intending to dirty talk you this much or if he's wanting to be thorough in communicating — it has you bearing down against him all that much more as a result, biting your lip raw in between kissing him messily.
minho's head falls back briefly, throaty groan escaping him and evidence of his impending high just before meeting back where he had left your attention and finishing the thought.
“give me life, and i'll give it to you.”
the implications of it making you dizzy, the thought of a family, having his child — completing his mission and the result of that ultimately being precisely what it is that you want all along.
“m-minho, i—“
whimpering against his mouth as you lose the ability to rut against him with any sort of precision, he's capable of handling the fall out at least — bringing his hands down and to your hips to still you in place as he finishes the job — four, five more presses of his hips into yours and a whimper of his own as he grits his teeth and empties into you, languid, lazy drags following before settling you down and against him as your chests heave with the necessity for breath.
in the moments immediately afterwards, you marvel at how normal it all feels. the same, in every way.
until it doesn't anymore.
at first it presents as nothing more than a familiar bubbling of indigestion, nothing particularly uncommon — an upset stomach, sex on dinner and a drink not always boding well, but it's when you pry yourself from a sleepy man beneath you and roll onto your own back that you find the movement to truly emerge something much more disturbing within you.
perhaps, far more sinister.
throat burning, mouth watering — it's recognizable, and the onset is fast.
“minho,” you whine, setting yourself up from the bed and attempting to drag yourself to the bathroom quickly enough to avoid a mess but not necessarily in a way that could alarm him.
“i don't feel so good.”
vision beginning to blur with every second that your stomach twists and turns, with barely a second to spare you make it to the toilet as you vomit everything that had been residing in your stomach just moments earlier. eyes watering, tightly shut — you bring the back of your hand up to wipe the corners of your mouth, intent to wash them thoroughly once finished, although it would have to wait.
opening your eyes delivers you to a far more grim discovery as you find the back of your hand smeared a dark red, as well as the inside of the bowl, now filled with more than the contents of your dinner.
it's blood.
panic setting in, you're relieved to look back and find minho now standing in the doorway, although his attention fixated on the mirror rather than you, the words come out shaky and unraveled as they leave your blood stained lips.
“m-minho, something's wrong, i—i don't—,”
stomach twisting again, you relent another time into the white, porcelain bowl, minho never once taking his attention away from the mirror just in front of him, a hand delicately tracing the skin of his neck as you stain the white, red, just before his very eyes.
worry, panic, an uneasy feeling of something being wrong. your heart beating a million miles an hour as you bring your eyes up once again to the man standing only a few feet away from you — your vision blurring and ability to maintain attention waning with each passing second — you know something is wrong.
and minho looks as though he knew something would be wrong all along.
it's unsettling the way he won't look at you, not even briefly. eyes so transfixed on the image of himself that you desperately attempt to focus on what it is exactly that has him so enthralled, so enamored that he chooses it over you, over whatever it is that is happening to you.
eyes finally honing in on the target as his fingertips delicately dance over the clear skin — the place where the snake tattoo once resided and marred him, now clean and as though it had never been there at all.
calling for him again, minho finally hears you through the sounds of his own thoughts.
“i'm sorry.”
shaking your head hastily, it's not what you want to hear. it's not what you're willing to hear. all of this time, all of this effort, and feeling, and everything. it wasn't fake, it was real, he was real, his feelings for you were real.
you couldn't possibly bear the thought that it hadn't been.
“you will have to forgive me,” he starts, his tone plain and lacking any sort of emotion given the display in front of him. breathing ragged and difficult through the blood coursing through your body in all of the places that it doesn't go, you cough out and onto the white tiles between the both of you — a red and sticky display of all of the ways that failure and success look exactly the same.
depending on how you spin it.
“i wasn't completely honest about the potential outcomes.”
you begin to cry, openly and outwardly sobbing out at him with his admittance of the truth, even in as little detail as proposed — clear as day, raw and exposed.
“isn't it what you wanted all along?” minho asks, tone coy and playful. a minho you're unfamiliar with — the demon within. “me to deliver you?”
“no,” you choke out through sobs and the reluctant swallowing of blood. “i love you! why!”
“because it's what you wanted,” he sighs, sing-song in tone — the change in him immediate the evident in every way — once again standing tall and proud, color coming back to his skin and no longer hunched over in pain.
you hate the way it still brings you joy to see the sight, even at the cost of yourself.
“you did. more than a happily ever after and a forever love, you wanted to be put to rest—“ he says. “you wanted a novel to write, a tragic memoir to go out on. a fabled love story for the ages; star crossed lovers unable to be together—“
you shake your head slowly, vision blurring as you fight back the loss of consciousness.
“—two people who love everything about one another that hurts. I played the part you wished of me.”
falling back and against the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, the ceiling spins above you at the knowledge, the betrayal, the manipulation — every moment, every interaction, and every word uttered between the two of you.
he was phenomenal, and devilish — that much was for certain.
“you're exquisite,” you manage out, dry and barely audible — sarcastic even in your fleeting, last moments. it makes him chuckle, arms crossed and shoulder pressed against the wood of the door frame, just as casually as ever before.
“deception is brutal,” he answers back.
and as your head gently meets the hard flooring beneath you, eyelids falling heavy and sleep threatening to take you, so much blood having left your body that the warmth now also completely lost to the circumstances, you're surprisingly comforted in accepting your fate — minho standing near in watch as life leaves you all the same as it had been intending to leave him.
“you think you've saved me?” you whisper, eyes closed and quietly speaking as if only to yourself. “from myself? think that you've won?”
“a good fight is never fair,” minho states quickly, growing tired of the conversation. “call me the harbinger of deliverance, or salvation, or suffering...whatever you please—“ he pauses, turning his back to you and beginning to exit the bathroom where your still body lies.
the last breath leaving you, the last words you hear.
“but I have won.”
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stayndays · 3 days ago
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𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙨 ( 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙨 )
tooth-rottening fluff
word count: 285
ot8 x gn!reader (relationship with members can be inferred)
a/n: back with a non-blurb post after like 5 months? sorry for the long wait, thanks for being patient with me! school’s being an ass. hope you enjoy <3 (also road to 1k followers lol)
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bang chan — breakfast burrito
a combination of savory breakfast dishes rolled into one. perhaps homemade, perhaps from a drive thru. eaten while going to the studio after forcing him to drag you along for the day. he can’t resist you.
lee minho — cereal
eaten at the crack of dawn, ready for a busy day together. potentially eaten to save room for a hefty lunch. sometimes simple cornflakes, other times literal candy floating in milk. shoved down your throats while scrolling through social media.
seo changbin — bacon & eggs
“a hearty breakfast!” changbin says. constantly makes sure you’re eating well. usually splattered with ketchup. eaten together before he goes to the gym for a bit. occasionally during sunday breakfast at a local diner. ignore the fact that he’s 1% pig.
hwang hyunjin — crepes
served at an outdoor spot during special occasions. perhaps your anniversary, a birthday, or other festivities. served with other delicacies like croissants and cappuccinos. eaten as you wipe the chocolate syrup off the corner of his mouth.
han jisung — bagels
loves the versatility of bagels. sometimes savory, topped with salmon or egg and such. sometimes sweet, with cream cheese and strawberry jam spread on top. eaten as yours cut in half, his as a sandwich.
lee felix — french toast
a dish he learned to made from a traditional cookbook. a special treat to give you after a long, draining yesterday. eaten with a smile on your face, cherishing the love he put into it. served while he says “enjoy!” in french.
kim seungmin — pancakes
watched countless videos on how to make good pancakes because you deserve the best. decorated with fresh fruit on top. sometimes even a fruit-made face is on top. eaten while sitting on the kitchen counter lazily.
yang jeongin — frozen waffles
when you’re both too lazy to cook a proper meal. drenched in maple syrup and chocolate and strawberries and anything you could find. eaten while watching cartoons on the vouch. “because when are you ever too old to watch?” jeongin says. you agree.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
want to read more like this? click here!
taglist: @desertofdessert @woahhwa @cotccotc @raethethey @bobateastay @seungminsaidsta @dayawantstosleep @starrynpy @leihey @teatimeonthemoon @skzwriternet @districtninewriters (ask to join!)
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fizzydrink698 · 27 days ago
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date a skater | jisung
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pairing: han jisung x reader
word-count: 6.3k
genre: romance, skater au, friends-to-lovers
warnings: swearing, making-out, honestly this is quite tame and adorable, just two young dorks in love
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summary:
“Of course I want to watch you skate,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m not some kind of asshole. You’re my best friend.”
“And you’re mine,” Jisung replies automatically.
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part of the six month anniversary drabble event!
prompts: “the skirt is supposed to be this short” “hold my hand so he gets jealous”
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“Really? Do you mean it?” You ask, eyes wide.
Jisung rubs the back of his neck, gaze fixing on the smoothie in front of him. “Sure, if you really want to go. I know Chan’s there and, you…you know.”
It’s silly that your cheeks still warm at just the mention of Chan.
He’s the cool, older boy of Jisung’s skater group. He’s got this thick, Aussie accent that makes your insides melt and this annoying habit of smiling just enough times at you to make you wonder if something…if something could happen there.
And Jisung – your beautiful, bestest friend in the whole wide world – just invited you to the skate park this weekend to watch them all practise.
“You’re the best, Jisung,” you beam, already lost in daydreams about seeing Chan skate, cheering him on from the side, catching his eye across the park.
You’re oblivious to the way Jisung starts fidgeting, picking at the chipped black polish on his nails. “I’m gonna be there all day, but I think Chan can only make it in the afternoon…so if you wanted to drop by at lunch–”
“Wait, what? Lunch?” You repeat, breaking out of your Chan trance with a frown. “Do you not want me to see you skate?”
“No! I-I mean, yes! I…” Jisung pauses, trying to collect his thoughts. “I mean, I don’t mind if you want to watch me skate. That’s…that’s fine. Cool. Cool with me.”
“Of course I want to watch you skate,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m not some kind of asshole. You’re my best friend.”
“And you’re mine,” Jisung replies automatically.
“Obviously. So, I’m going to watch you skate in the morning and cheer you on and loudly embarrass you in front of all your friends. Got it?”
People always say you two have this similar energy – this easy, loud confidence about you. Jisung never really knows how to respond to that, because in his mind, that couldn’t be further from the truth. His confidence always feels like a farce, a mask he puts up to hide how awkward he feels around people.
But yours is so genuine. If Jisung had to put it into words – and he’d written enough emo poetry in his awkward early teen years to master the art of pretentious, cringey metaphors – he’d probably compare it to sunshine. A beacon of light, warming him from the inside out.
Jisung likes it. A lot.
Probably because he likes you.
A lot.
“Got it,” he says, simply, and allows himself to bask in the sun for just a moment.
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You turn up on Jisung’s doorstep bright and early, with a smile on your face so wide it threatens to split your cheeks in two.
“Hey!” You greet him as soon as he opens the door, and hold up your car keys – complete with fuzzy pink keychain. “Do you mind if I–”
You break off halfway through your sentence, eyes widening in shock.
“…Blue,” you mutter, spellbound.
Jisung has…
Jisung’s hair is blue.
It’s a dark, almost navy shade – accented with little highlights of electric blue – and it suits him so well.
You struggle to form more coherent words. “Your hair’s blue.”
He bites his lip, hand nervously lifting to run through his newly dyed mop. “Yeah, I…wanted to try it. Does it look…?”
Jisung trails off, but you’re more than eager to answer his half-question.
“It looks great! Holy shit, it’s so cool!”
Jisung blinks once. Twice.
Before he smiles shyly, taking in the compliment.
It’s only then that he looks at you – really looks at you – and his face freezes.
You’ve made quite the effort today – your whole outfit is brand-new, except for your shoes. You’re wearing a pair of white sneakers – one might arguably call them plain, but they’re so comfortable and honestly, they’re one of your favourite pairs of shoes. When you look down at the toes, you can just about make out the little cartoon sun Jisung had drawn on them months ago.
Jisung’s attention, however, is not on your shoes.
“I like your skirt. The, um, the ruffle things are…” Jisung stammers over his words, hand moving forward to gesture to your skirt before freezing, and quickly withdrawing again. “Yeah.”
“Thanks. I bought it specially for today,” you beam, glancing down. “I didn’t realise that the skirt is supposed to be this short but…I think I like it.”
Jisung swallows. “I…yeah. Yeah, it’s nice.”
Your eyes flicker up to meet his gaze, and your smile widens. “Thank you.”
His cheeks pinken, and there’s a brief moment of quiet before you suddenly remember what you had been about to ask.
“Do you mind if I drive us today? You can pick the music if you want.”
“Uh…yeah, sure. I don’t mind,” Jisung says, briefly thrown by this sudden change of subject, but recovers well. “Give me, like, two minutes to grab my shit.”
He hurries back inside the house, leaving the front door wide open as he does – a move so characteristically Jisung that you can’t help but roll your eyes.
After a few minutes, he comes rushing out, backpack slung over his shoulder and board under his arm – and thankfully, he remembers to shut the front door behind him. For him, that’s progress. “OK, all good to go.”
There’s a nervous energy to him as the two of you walk to your car. You figure that makes sense – he’s competing soon, he’s probably got a thousand and one thoughts in his head.
“Are you excited for that competition thing next month?” You ask, as you tug open your car door.
“Kind of, I guess. I’m up against some really good guys. It’s gonna be tough. If I don’t make the 360, I’m probably gonna, like, finish somewhere in the middle.”
“Sounds like some stiff competition,” you muse, checking your mirrors and start up the car. “…What’s a 360?”
Jisung smiles at your question. “You know the vert? The vert ramp?”
“The thing you do the jumpy moves on, yes?”
This cracks Jisung up, his laughter loud and delighted – and you can’t help but smile at the sound of it. He’s still laughing when he finally replies. “A 360 is…yeah, a jumpy move. You go up, turn 360 degrees in the air, come back down.”
“What the fuck? That’s so cool.”
He grins, attempting to shrug off the compliment but doing very little to hide how flattered he is. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”
“Does Chan do 360s?” You ask, excited.
Jisung pauses. “…Uh, I think so. He likes…yeah, he likes his aerials.”
His voice has turned quiet, thoughtful. You wait for him to elaborate, but instead he stays silent, fidgeting with the helmet in his lap – a birthday present from you, after much nagging from both you and his mother to be safe and wear a fucking helmet, Jisung.
There’s a moment of quiet as you pull out of Jisung’s driveway, and eventually, you move the conversation on.
“Is your mom coming to watch you compete?”
“No,” Jisung immediately says, panicking. “No, she’s got work that day, thank fuck.”
“Don’t be mean! I think it’s really sweet that she wants to see you skate.”
“I think you mean embarrassing,” Jisung insists, pouting, and slides further down into his seat. “She keeps trying to use slang. It’s horrifying.”
“She just wants to prove she’s down with the kids. She’s rad. She’s hip to the trends. She knows what’s the bomb and what’s totally lame.”
“I will pay you actual money to stop.”
You grin, before turning your attention back to the road – and you’re so focused on driving safely that you almost miss what Jisung says next.
“…She keeps asking about you.”
Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Your mom?”
“Yeah. I think she misses you coming over when we used to study.”
“Aww,” you smile, genuinely touched. “I love your mom. I have to visit more often.”
Jisung glances over to you, hands stilling. “…Yeah.”
And then, suddenly, he clears his throat.
“Well, you know, if you have to.”
“Don’t lie, you love having me over. Stealing all your food, taking up space on your couch. You can’t get enough of it.”
“…If you say so,” mumbles Jisung, turning away to look out at the road. “I guess.”
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Watching Jisung skate is captivating in its own way.
He gets so intense, so focused, as he works. You can just make out the little crease appearing in his brow as he concentrates on movement, on gathering and controlling speed, on tricks. Skateboarding is his craft, and he takes it very seriously.
It’s only when he stops to take a breather and get some water that your eyes turn to the rest of the skaters. There’s a few you recognise from Jisung’s circle of skater friends, and some you don’t.
You spot Seo Changbin nearby, warming up with a few circuits around the park. His movements are so fluid, so very natural – he makes it look effortless.
Your staring must eventually catch his attention, as Changbin glances up at you and – so smoothly – changes direction to make his way over to where you’re sat.
“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here,” Changbin greets, coming to a stop less than a foot away. “Did you come with Han?”
“Yeah, I had a free day. Thought I’d get some sun,” you reply, trying your best to sound cool and carefree. You know that these are Jisung’s friends – and therefore, by definition, have to be hiding some dorkiness – but you still find them a little intimidating. “You skate really well, by the way. Like, from an outsider’s perspective, at least.”
“Thanks! It’s always good to have your basics down,” Changbin says with a shrug. His attention suddenly shifts to something over your shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Han?”
You turn to see that Jisung has drifted over at some point, and is now standing just a little ways off behind you. There’s a grin on his face, despite the unsubtle jab in Changbin’s comment, as he responds.
“True. But not everyone had their parents buy them snowboard lessons as a kid. That probably helps with those basics, right?”
“Always with the rich kid jokes,” Changbin sighs. “One day, you’re gonna have to find some new material.”
“Maybe when you stop making it so easy, Bin,” Jisung retorts, words softened by the playful tone in his voice.
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see who’s laughing next month when I kick your ass at regionals.”
“OK, sure. How’s your varial flip coming along?”
“About as well as your 360.”
Jisung pouts. “…Touché.”
“Eh. We’ll both get there,” Changbin laughs, before suddenly dropping his voice, growing just a touch more serious. “Did you hear about Chan?”
You blink, ears perking up at the mention of Chan.
Jisung frowns. “What about him?”
Changbin’s voice drops even lower. “He made a 540 last week.”
“What?” Jisung splutters, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. “Fuck off.”
“No, seriously. Seungmin was there, saw it with his own eyes.”
Jisung pauses, absorbing this new information, and eventually sighs. “Fuck. Why does Chan have to be so…good?”
Changbin echoes that frustrated sigh. “Preaching to the choir here. It’s gonna be a tight race for silver, I guess.”
Meanwhile, you’re still reeling. From what you can tell, Chan is good. Great, even. Gold medal standard.
You struggle to keep your expression neutral, when inside you want so badly to squeal.
Changbin’s attention suddenly diverts, as does Jisung’s, as they watch a beaten old blue pick-up truck pull up by the park.
You freeze, chest going tight.
You know that car. And so do Jisung and Changbin.
“Speak of the fucking devil,” Changbin murmurs.
Chan’s here.
Chan’s here early.
You watch him from across the park, eyes transfixed on him as he gets out of the car. He slings his backpack over his shoulder, grabs his board with one hand and pulls on a black baseball cap with the other.
Your breath hitches when you see him put it on, watching him struggle against those gorgeous curls. He’s so broad, and sun-kissed from the hours he must spend practising outside, and the way he carries himself with such self-assurance as he approaches the park has you–
“Hello? Anyone in there?”
You blink, breaking out of your trance to find Jisung has taken a seat beside you, and is currently waving his hand over your face.
“S-sorry,” you mumble, not at all apologetic. “I got a little…distracted.”
Jisung doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he glances over at Chan, before turning back to you. “Uh…I’ve been meaning to ask. How do you want to play this?”
“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.
“I…I don’t know if you wanted to…like, if you had a plan or something?”
“A plan?”
“Yeah, like if you wanted to do something like…” Jisung’s face is slowly turning red as he mumbles on. “I don’t know, hold my hand so he gets jealous or…something like that.”
You pause, thinking it over. “I mean, I hadn’t planned on doing anything scheme-y but…do you think that would work?”
Jisung looks down at his board, picking at the dirt that has lodged itself in the grooves of the wheels. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Hmm. Let’s make that Plan B.”
Jisung snorts, eyes still down. “Plan B. OK.”
Across the park, you see Chan leave his bag with the others, stopping to chat to a few people. You spot Changbin as one of those people, wandering over to greet Chan with a high-five and launches into some conversation you’re not close enough to make out. Probably something about the 540 thing?
Changbin suddenly gestures over his shoulder, pointing directly to where you and Jisung are sat. You freeze as Chan’s head turns towards the two of you, heart in your mouth.
Oh, shit.
Chan’s looking at you.
Chan’s looking at you.
And even worse – better? – he nods goodbye to Changbin, drops his board by his feet and sets off.
Skating directly towards you.
“He’s coming over!” You hiss, panicking, head turning to Jisung. “What do I do?”
Jisung looks at you, then to the approaching Chan, and then back to you. He swallows, before eventually shrugging. “Just…I dunno. Be yourself. You’re…yeah.”
He suddenly clears his throat, pushing himself up to his feet. “Uh…anyway, I’m gonna go practise some aerials. I’ll see you later.”
You stare, body tensing, as you’re hit with the knee-jerk impulse to grab Jisung’s arm and squeal something like don’t leave yet. For all your bravado in picking out this cute skirt and your big plan to win over Chan before summer ended, actually being around the real-life, living and breathing Chan is a very different matter and you’re panicking. Hard.
And you really need Jisung with you.
But how do you even….is that something you can put into words?
No. You shouldn’t have to need your best friend around to talk to a crush. You should be able to handle this alone.
So, you let him leave, watching as he exchanges a brief “hey, man” with Chan on his way.
And then, Chan turns to look at you. And smiles.
Holy shit.
“Hey,” Chan says, stopping just in front of you. He does some kind of cool trick of kicking up the front of the board to catch it with his hand, making it look so effortless as he brings it up to rest on his shoulders. “This is a nice surprise.”
Bang Chan just called you a nice surprise.
To your surprise, you manage to muster up a coherent response. “Hi! Yeah, I…Jisung mentioned that he was coming up this weekend to practise and I thought…you know, it would be fun to watch. And see people.”
“People?”
“Yeah, like Changbin. And…you.”
Chan’s smile widens, and your attention is drawn straight to his dimples. “Me?”
“Y-yeah, I haven’t…uh, I haven’t seen you in a while,” you say, words stumbling a little in the face of that smile. “It sounds like you’re doing really well. Changbin said you did a 540 thingy?”
Chan laughs, looking a little bashful as he looks down at his feet. “It took, like, three hours of falling on my ass but…yeah, I finally made it.”
That’s a trait you really admire about Chan. He’s always humble.
“Maybe we should get you on a board,” Chan suggests, eyes flickering back up to meet your gaze.
You laugh, shaking your head. “I already tried a few years ago with Jisung. It…uh, it didn’t go so well.”
“Really?”
“Really. Did you ever wonder why I spent the first semester of freshman year with my arm in a cast?”
You still have very vivid memories of the day you broke your arm on Jisung’s skateboard. You’d managed to pick up the basics of starting and stopping, managing to ride across flat ground with ease – and, getting overconfident, you’d begged Jisung to teach you a trick. He eventually relented, and tried to teach you the most basic of tricks – the ollie.
And somehow, you’d still managed to come down hard, falling flat on your face and breaking your arm for good measure.
Looking back now, it was honestly kind of funny. You remember the horror on Jisung’s face, calling his mom in tears, asking her what to do.
“I learned my lesson,” you say, shrugging. “Me and skateboards don’t mix well.”
“Maybe you just need a different teacher,” Chan suggests, slipping one hand into his front pocket and tilting his head slightly. “Someone to go a little gentler on you. Ease you in.”
Your mind goes completely blank, eyes wide, because Chan is talking about gentle and easing in and you might actually explode.
Does he know? Does he know what he’s doing?
You feel your face grow hot. Your brain is now so suddenly uncooperative, as you stammer. “I-I…uh, that’s…that maybe could…if you…”
There’s a new look in Chan’s eye as he watches your reaction, and he opens his mouth to respond when–
A sickening thud echoes across the park.
It’s closely followed by the very panicked voice of Changbin. “Fuck! Dude, are you OK?!”
Your head snaps towards the source of the noise, and your stomach drops all the way to the floor.
There, in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the ramp, is Jisung.
You bolt up from your seat, legs already in motion as you sprint towards your friend without so much as a second thought. “Jisung!”
He’s shaking, and he lets out a cry of pain that punches you straight in the gut. You’re by his side in just a few seconds, dropping to your knees as you try to figure out what’s happening, what’s wrong–
Jisung’s whimpering, face screwed up in pain, biting his bottom lip to muffle his sounds as he clutches at his leg. His board lies upside-down a few feet away.
Changbin joins the two of you, his face pale with worry.
“What happened?!” You ask, in a frenzy. Tears of panic are already prickling at the back of your eyes.
“He landed wrong off the 360, it…fuck, it looked nasty,” Changbin tells you.
“Did he hit his head? How did he land?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t–”
“N-not head,” Jisung gasps, eyes squeezed shut. “It – fuck, it’s my ankle. Fuck.”
Ankle? Ankle. OK, an ankle injury, you can deal with.
OK.
OK, you can do this.
At this point, the tears are openly running down your face, but your expression is grim and determined as you look up at Changbin. “I can drive him to the hospital, I just need help carrying him to my car.”
“On it,” comes a voice behind you, and you turn to see Chan staring at Jisung with a grave expression, blatant concern in his eyes.
Changbin turns to yell to the cluster of skaters nearby. “Mingi! Yeonjun! Get the fuck over here and help us carry him!”
Jisung’s eyes finally open, bright with tears and a little unfocused as he meets your worried stare. On impulse, your hand finds his, gripping it tightly as you try to smile through the tears.
“It’s gonna be OK,” you promise, as he shakily squeezes your hand back. “It’s gonna be OK.”
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“My mom’s gonna kill me,” Jisung whines, wobbling on his hospital-issued crutches as he hands back the signed hospital discharge papers to the nurse.
“Probably,” you agree. “At least it’s just a sprain.”
“Hurts like a bitch though,” Jisung mutters, and manages to start hobbling along on his crutches. “She’s definitely not gonna let me compete next month.”
“Well, you definitely shouldn’t. The doctor said there’s a chance you could make it worse.”
Jisung makes a face at that reminder. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Han Jisung, if you try to compete next month, you won’t have to worry about your mom – because I will kill you.”
“You’d really do that to your best friend?”
“I’d do it because you’re my best friend.”
Jisung goes quiet at that, not even attempting to retort as he instead focuses on keeping steady on his crutches.
You stay close to his side, one bag slung over each shoulder.
Jisung’s mom is still at work – and Jisung had begged you not to call her boss until he got home because, in his words, this “isn’t an emergency, I don’t want her to freak out and leave halfway through her shift”. You only begrudgingly agreed, and made a mental note to tell Jisung’s mother that it was absolutely his idea to wait before calling her.
The two of you eventually made it to your car, and Jisung manages to slide into the passenger seat with minimal issue – barely even wincing. You stow both bags in the back, and throw Jisung’s skateboard the dirtiest of glares before heading over to the driver’s side.
The ride back to Jisung’s house is mostly silent, save for the occasional question of if he’s feeling ok, if he’s comfortable, if he wants any particular music on. But mostly, you just leave him be.
He’s had a very long day, and he’s probably trying to deal with the idea of having to drop out of the competition.
You feel the urgent, almost overpowering need to hug him, to tell him everything’s going to be fine.
Getting out of the car is a little more difficult. Jisung has to cling onto your shoulder for support as he manoeuvres himself out of the car, attempting to keep himself balanced on one foot. Your hand automatically goes to the small of his back to keep him steady, gently pressing the flat of your palm against him.
He swallows, eyes averted. “I’m…I’m good now, can you pass me the crutches?”
“…Sure,” you say hesitantly, turning to grab his crutches. You pass them over to him carefully, watching as he steadies himself before setting off on the journey from the car to his front door.
You grab both bags – and that treacherous skateboard – out of your car and follow him closely behind, keeping your eyes fixed on him, opening the front door for him once he manages to fish his keys out of his pocket and insert them into the lock.
“Want me to put these in your room?” You ask, holding up his bag and skateboard.
Jisung just nods, so quiet and looking so drained that something in your chest begins to ache.
You’ve never seen Jisung this upset before, and you don’t know how to react. You don’t know how to deal with this immediate urge to fix things, to cheer him back up, to make him not sad anymore.
He follows you into his room, dropping his crutches by the bed as soon as he could and clumsily crawling onto the bed – being very careful with his ankle.
You put down his bag, deciding to place it within arms’ reach should he need to grab something out of it. As for the skateboard, you stow it under his desk, out of sight. The last thing you want is to set up a painful reminder for him later.
Looking back over to Jisung, you see him lying prone on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
“You want any food? I can make you food?”
Jisung doesn’t quite laugh, but there’s the slightest twitch to his lips as he glances over at you. “You’re offering to cook?”
“I’m offering to make cereal. Maybe microwave something if I’m feeling brave. Seungmin taught me not to put tin foil in there anymore, if that helps?”
“Surprisingly, it doesn’t.”
“Ah. Fair enough,” you nod. “So…food?”
Jisung shrugs. “Maybe later.”
“OK.”
You pause, shifting your weight awkwardly from foot to foot. You already know you’re staying here until Jisung’s mom comes back from work – leaving her only son alone in a state like this would probably have you banished from the Han family home for the rest of your natural life.
But are you really just going to wander outside and sit on the couch? Watch TV and eat snacks and try not to think about how miserable Jisung looks lying there, how lonely he seems?
Before you can even think to stop yourself, your feet are already propelling you towards Jisung’s bed. With all the grace you can muster, you crawl onto the bed, nestling into the empty space next to him, turning onto your side to face him. “You need a hug?”
Jisung doesn’t look at you, and you realise his whole body is tensed. Is he in that much pain? You see his adam’s-apple bob up and down in his throat as he swallows. “…No.”
Liar.
“But what if I need a hug?” You ask, putting on a pout.
Jisung hesitates, as if thinking the idea over, before slowly shifting over – not quite going for a hug, but at least opening up his body language to you a little more.
You take what you can get, shuffling over to give him as tight a hug as you can manage. You bury your face into his shirt – breathing in that heady scent of cheap fabric softener and Jisung – and mumble to him. “I was really worried.”
You hear Jisung’s reply come from somewhere above your head. “Well, you know…I’m OK. Mostly. Everything’s mostly OK.”
You nod, closing your eyes, keeping your face pressed into him. You can just make out the sound of his breathing, each inhale and exhale so comforting on your frazzled nerves.
You feel Jisung swallow again. “I’m…I’m sorry you didn’t get to talk to Chan much.”
Your brow furrows slightly, pinching together in confusion even as your eyes remained shut. Because honestly?
You hadn’t even…you hadn’t even thought about Chan. From the second you saw Jisung hurt, you hadn’t spared one thought about Chan. Even now, the idea that you had been forced away from a conversation with him, from spending more time with him…
It seems so…unimportant.
Because all you can think about is Jisung. If Jisung is OK. If Jisung is happy.
“…It’s OK. No big deal.”
“Yeah, but…I know you like Chan.”
All you care about is Jisung.
Because Jisung…
Because you…
“I…I like you more,” you say, falteringly, almost testing how the words sound out loud.
Because you do. Jisung’s been your best friend – like, bestest best friend – since childhood. Of course you feel more affection towards him. Of course he’s more important to you than Chan.
So it hurts when you feel Jisung tense, and immediately snap back. “Don’t say that.”
You freeze, too shocked to even bring yourself to draw away. His words – his tone – stings in a way you’ve never felt before. Have you done something wrong? Crossed some kind of line? What had you done? Had he picked up on those burgeoning thoughts in your mind? Had he found you out before you’d even figured it out yourself?
You actually feel just a little bit sick, as these thoughts swirl around in your head, and all you can bring yourself to say is: “Why not?”
Jisung pauses – literally holding his breath as he hesitates.
“…Because it’s unfair.”
His response strikes something deep within your chest, forcing your head up to stare at him. In just a few words, the atmosphere between the two of you has changed so dramatically – and now every second of silence draws out into an age.
And already, the words he leaves unspoken are ringing loud and clear in your own mind.
You just have to make sure.
“W-why is it unfair?”
Jisung just stares at you, eyes so big and sad as his mouth parts.
His eyes dart away from you, like he can’t bear to look at you as he reveals something so vulnerable.
“You know why.”
…You do.
And you don’t know how to even…comprehend the intense need you have to hear him say the words out loud. That earlier tension, that anxiety that you had overstepped in some way, it has almost entirely faded away – replaced with this…anticipation. A nervousness. An excitement.
“Jisung…do you like me?”
His breath hitches – you’re close enough to hear it – and there’s a moment of silence as he visibly scrambles to figure out what to say. And eventually, in true Jisung form, even now at this late of a stage, he attempts to chicken out. “…No. No, I–”
“Jisung.”
On pure impulse, his gaze flickers back to you at the sound of his name – and catches. The two of you are locked in eye contact, faces so close. Your arms are still around him, you’re practically lying chest-to-chest. His own hand is lying on the sheets, just inches away from your hip.
It takes almost no effort at all to push yourself up closer to his face and – before you can second-guess your actions – you lean forward to gently press your lips to his.
The kiss is nothing dramatic, but you’d be forgiven for missing that in the face of Jisung’s shocked expression. His jaw actually drops, eyes widening as his brain takes a second to catch up to what just happened.
“I-I…but…you…you like Chan!” Jisung stammers, voice cracking in surprise.
You can’t resist a smile. “…Like I said. I like you more.”
Jisung is speechless, utterly unable to process this.
You decide to show him a little mercy, and elaborate. “Like, yeah, Chan’s cute but I don’t know him like I know you. If Chan fell off his board tomorrow, it would be sad but I wouldn’t…I mean, do you know how scared I was? You’re so important to me, there’s so much…so much of you in me. Of course I like you more.”
The shock is still very visible on his face, but there’s no hiding how red his cheeks are flushing at your words. “Y-yeah, but…I didn’t think…in that way?”
“Well, you know, that was a surprise to me too.”
Jisung blinks, your words sinking in, and splutters. “Hey!”
“I’m kidding. Mostly. You kind of crept up on me.”
He smiles at your confession, cheeks well and truly painted red as he mumbles his own. “…Same here.”
You shrug. “That’s understandable. I’m sneaky like that.”
Jisung lets out a laugh, the noise a little hoarse from being so genuinely unexpected. His expression relaxes, watching you with new eyes as he seems to finally register what this means. Where the two of you stand now.
He smiles.
And bites his lip. “Can I…so, can I kiss you again?”
“If you’d like,” you tease, grinning, already leaning in a little closer.
Jisung’s kiss is eager, a touch too excited to really be considered ‘gentle’, and yet perfectly sweet. His hand drifts to the small of your back, pulling you in closer, as his other hand rises up to cup your face.
Your own hands are curled up against his chest, propping you up to meet him at fae-level. You allow your hands to slowly uncurl, pressing flat against him, feeling the warmth of his skin and the firmness of his chest through his thin cotton t-shirt.
The pace set by the two of you is fairly slow, languid – well, as languid as Jisung gets, anyway. When he reluctantly pulls away for air, you slide one hand up his chest, drifting up and up until you reached his hair. Very gently, you ran the thick blue strands between your fingers, smiling faintly as you did.
You don’t notice Jisung grinning at you until he speaks up. “This is all because of the hair, isn’t it? You just like the blue.”
“It’s not just about the blue hair,” you correct him firmly, pouting even as you continue to run your fingers gently through the soft strands. “But…you know, it is a pretty good look. I like it.”
“Yeah?” Jisung asks, a mischievously delighted gleam in his eye. “How much do you like it?”
“Stop fishing for compliments.”
“Never,” Jisung retorts, and slowly, he starts to stroke your back, fingertips brushing and dipping into the sliver of bare skin between your top and your skirt. You shiver at the contact, trying your best to keep it inconspicuous and failing miserably. “So? How much?”
“Not as much as you like the skirt,” you countered.
“…Maybe,” Jisung admits, gaze drifting down to eye the article of clothing in question. And ogle the bare skin around it. “I do like that skirt. It’s nice.”
“It’s short, you mean.”
“In my book, those two are usually the same thing,” Jisung points out cheekily.
You roll your eyes. “At least you’re honest.”
“Mostly,” he says, teasing, already leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
You pull back just slightly, slowly, to look down at your skirt. If Jisung wants to tease, you’re determined to get the upper hand. “I wonder how much shorter it would get if…”
You trail off, while Jisung is hanging onto your every word. “If…?”
You glance up at him, and with one perfectly innocent smile, you throw one leg over him, pushing yourself up to sit astride his hips, skirt riding up almost obscenely high as you adjust. You keep your head down to give your skirt a cursory assessment. “Huh. Would you look at that?”
Jisung is entirely wordless. When you finally bring your head up to look at his face, you find him staring at you, eyes dark, lips parted. He’s drinking in the sight of you, utterly dazed. “…Fuck.”
His hands go straight to your thighs, and you jolt a little at the feeling of his hands on such sensitive skin – especially at your inner thighs, where the pads of his thumbs are just ever so slightly digging in. He runs his hands up and down your thighs, as if captivated by the way they feel under his touch.
And each time his hands travel upwards, they creep just a little higher, as he grows bolder and bolder. When his fingertips finally slip just under the hem of your skirt, your breath escaping you in one short gasp as you struggle for…for some kind of friction.
You catch Jisung’s lips curl up into a smile, as he watches you, just the tiniest bit smug. “You enjoying yourself there?”
You swallow, unable to stop yourself from squirming a little, just to get some relief.
The shifting of your weight directly over his crotch has an immediate effect on Jisung. You see his eyes snap shut for a moment, groaning gently at the feeling, his grip tightening on your thighs.
And then, his eyes open, and you’re very briefly disappointed to feel one of his hands withdraw from you – only to be assured when you watch him plant it into the mattress to push himself up into a seated position, allowing him to kiss you once more.
You throw yourself into it eagerly, slinging both of your arms around his neck, one hand reaching up to cradle the back of his head. There’s more urgency to your kisses now, broken up by quiet little pants. Jisung – either on purpose or just carried along by impulse – rolls his hips up into you, and you whine against his mouth, your hand curling tightly in his hair.
“How is this fucking real?” Jisung murmurs, more to himself than to you, sounding almost incredulous.
You don’t have much of a response to give, because he chooses that exact moment to roll his hips again, the rough denim material of his jeans dragging deliciously across the thin material of your underwear, and all thoughts promptly fly out of your head. You just pull him closer, grip him tighter, matching his hip-rolls with one of your own.
Jisung’s moan gets caught in his throat, low and desperate, and the hand on your thigh slides upwards as he shifts, sliding an arm around your waist, preparing to flip the two of you over–
Before yelping in pain, dropping you immediately as he flinched. “Fuck!”
“Shit, your ankle!” You gasp, freezing in place.
In the heat of the moment, you had somehow completely forgotten that Jisung had suffered a literal sprain today.
And by the looks of things, so had Jisung.
He relaxes just a touch, the shock of that sudden jolt of pain when he tried to move his legs subsiding.
“Are you OK?” You ask, tentatively, already moving to dismount.
He immediately grabs you by the hips, keeping you in place, and lets out a panicked reply. “I’m fine!”
You look up to see him…
Pouting.
And you can’t help but crack up – just at the sheer frustration in his expression. “Maybe we should take things slow. Stick to kissing.”
Jisung whines, pout deepening. “But…”
He breaks off, face flushing, as he tries to put into words exactly what his objection is. You have a suspicion that you’re sitting right on it, feeling the way it’s already pressing up into your thigh.
“I guess I’ll just have to be gentle, then,” you grin.
And just like that, Jisung’s pout disappears entirely. He drops his head back against his pillow, smile slowly creeping back onto his face. “…OK. I can get on board with this.”
“Good.”
And it is. It is very, very good.
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taglist:
@buntrsh​ @liz820​ @sunnyville36​ @sleepylixie​ @healinghyunjin​ @randombutyeah @aliceu​ @laikaya​ @the7thcrow​​ @woofwoofbangbang​ @lynx-paw​ @im-questioning-my-existence
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healinghyunjin · 2 months ago
Text
Moonlight
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Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (fem)
Genre: smut, romance, fluff, crack(?); historical!AU, arranged marriage!AU, 18+ (this continues where my last fic, Moonrise, leaves off, so this is almost PWP lol - be warned!!)
Word Count: 6.5k
Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, switch dynamics
Author’s Note: As soon as Play With Fire dropped, I knew I had to finish out that cliffhanger from Moonrise. This is very rushed by my standards, so please excuse any egregious errors or mistakes. My writing here is very much based off the energy/vibes I’ve been running off from the cover, so if Hyunjin’s character here is a little OOC from how he was depicted in Moonrise - please forgive me [there’s also a detail I couldn’t leave out of this from the video lol, idk if that makes this crack]!! This is thirsty and smutty as HELL - so have your holy water ready (and if this is not your thing, please just keep scrolling!). 
Taglist: @the7thcrow​ @ohmysparkle​ @dreamofamor @tenclouds​ @honeydewhyunjinnie​
And finally: Just to repeat what others have said: if you enjoy reading fics on this site, please reblog them and interact with the writers! Yes, a lot of us try to be “writing for ourselves,” but plotting, outlining, and writing longer, more detailed fics can take days, weeks, and even months’ worth of effort. Even quick messages or asks can really make our day and give us the motivation to keep writing. So please - reblog, engage, and slide into our DMs!!
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While you could *maybe* read this standalone for just the smut, I would suggest that you read Moonrise first (linked here!) for more context, characterization and plot (along with the first part of the smut scene lol)!!
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You felt fire blazing through your veins as you gazed down at your husband – your lover – laying beneath you, head lolled back against the pillows as you trailed your fingers down his throat.
You’d just managed to get the laces of Hyunjin’s doublet undone, hands trembling from urgency, from the need to see, to touch, to feel. Now, having hastily disposed of it, you were left with your husband clad simply in a thin, white shirt, tantalizing flashes of skin peeking through with every rise and fall of his chest.
You’d thought that there was no greater pleasure than laying under Hyunjin, trembling in his arms and submitting to him as he lovingly, passionately wrecked you. Now that he had let you take the reins however, wanting you to feel more comfortable with his body – you found that the thought of dictating, directing his pleasure; the thought of having the freedom to do whatever you wanted to him…it did things to your insides.
You’d never thought that unselfishly giving someone pleasure could give you the same high that receiving pleasure yourself could – and you wanted more.
Crawling back over him, you straddled his hips and laid yourself, still naked, on top of his chest, hissing as your sensitized nipples caught against the fabric of his shirt.  
Tugging at the neckline of his shirt – and ripping off a few buttons in the process – you exposed more and more of his skin to the hazy moonlight. Hyunjin looked like an angel, dragged out of heaven by your own hands – his plump lips swollen from your kisses, his hair a wild mess from your fingers, his clothing torn from his body by your lecherous hands.
“Eager, aren’t we?” Hyunjin squeezed out, clearly affected by your advances – and the slow, seemingly careless motion of your hips rubbing down on his. Still, you clucked your tongue in disapproval – he’d had managed to render you speechless earlier, but you clearly hadn’t done as good of a job – yet.
“Not as much as you’ll be in a few minutes.” With that, you dived into his neck, clumsily but fervently worshipping the dips of his collarbones, the smooth column of his throat – nipping and biting at the supple flesh – marking him just as he’d done to you earlier.
Underneath you, Hyunjin was losing his mind. The feeling of your lips sucking on his, your hips rolling against his, your body on top of his – everything felt so new, so wanton. It felt strange for him to give up control – to just lay there and be pleasured like this. Here, in your arms, he didn’t have to be a king anymore, he didn’t have to be Hwang Hyunjin anymore – he was just a man, passionately being loved on by his woman.
He couldn’t get enough. And he just hoped, prayed that he wouldn’t explode in his pants before you even got there.
“Ugh, this needs to come off.” Detaching yourself from his throat, you sat up on him, furiously undoing the remaining buttons holding his shirt closed. In the process, you inadvertently ground your core into his dick, almost your full body weight driving the motion.
Hyunjin choked, hips bucking up involuntarily.
You bit your lip, trying to hide your satisfaction at that delicious ridge once again digging into where you wanted it the most. But, as you felt your husband’s hands trying to sneak up onto your waist, attempting to grind you down onto him again, you lightly slapped his hands away, playfully frowning down at him.
You called the shots here – and you couldn’t have him distracting you if you were going to get this shirt unbuttoned any time soon.  
“Love, you’re so mean. I wasn’t this mean to you,” Hyunjin pouted, his expression contrasting hilariously with just how lewd, how fucked out the rest of his body looked. “I took such good care of you, and this is what I get in re-”
His whining cut off sharply as he realized that you’d finally gotten his shirt fully unbuttoned – and your eyes were fixed on his stomach, your lips curling up in a slow, wicked smile.
As you’d predicted from the feeling of his body pressed up against yours, Hyunjin had a beautiful set of abs: well-defined, tight and toned – so gorgeous that you wanted to outline them with your tongue, pay court to them with your lips.
But – there, right in the middle, twinkling prettily in the moonlight, was a dainty little piece of jewelry, one that you’d never expected your husband of all people to have.
“Hyunjin,” you gushed, a smug, shit-eating grin plastered across your face. “What is this?”
He blushed – violently. You watched, fascinated, as a warm flush suffused his skin, painting his ears, his cheeks, his chest a pretty, vibrant shade of red.
“It-it was just a bet! Jisung dared me to get it a little while ago, and I didn’t want to chicken out…”
You couldn’t take your eyes off the piercing. It was the first time you’d ever seen anything like it on a man, but it just fit Hyunjin – your elegant, beautiful husband – so well.
It looked so breathtakingly, so devastatingly sexy on him that you just had to do something about it.
You tapped his thighs, and Hyunjin obediently parted his legs for you, eagerly anticipating what you would be doing next. As you prowled down between his thighs, you kneeled, bending so that you had easy access to his lower stomach – and his crotch.
“Does it hurt at all? Like is it sore or anything?”
“No, I don’t think s-oh!” Hyunjin broke off in a loud gasp when your tongue immediately made contact with the taut skin of his belly button, softly licking a wet stripe around the cold piece of metal.
“Tell me if anything I do hurts or bothers it, okay?” Hyunjin quickly nodded before he was forced to fling an arm across his face, moaning as you went to town on him.
You had to work the skin of his stomach a little hard to get the beautiful purple bruises you wanted, but it didn’t seem like Hyunjin minded very much at all. To the contrary, his moans only started getting more and more breathy, more high-pitched as you worked your magic, painting the hollows of his abs with marks of your love.
Once you were satisfied with your artwork, you turned again to that tempting, tantalizing little piercing. You looked up to meet Hyunjin’s gaze, watch his half-lidded, tortured eyes as you softly flicked at the metal bar with your tongue before gently suckling the metal beads at either end.
“How does that feel?” You asked, smirking as you saw Hyunjin panting above you; while you waited for him to catch his breath, you gently massaged the jewelry with your fingertips, feeling his muscles tense and relax under your touch.
“Really, really good – really fucking good,” he moaned out, still on edge from the sensation of your hands on his stomach; so close – but so far – from where he needed them the most.
“But…”
“But what, love?” You asked, teasingly emphasizing the pet name he always used for you. “Is there something you want from me, hmm?”
You smirked to yourself, knowing exactly what Hyunjin needed from you.
Languidly, lazily, you danced your fingers in patterns around his belly button, swooping lower and lower with each pass. The closer you got to Hyunjin’s waistband, the heavier his breathing got.
You fingered the edge of his pants, eyes drawn to the sizable tent struggling against the tight leather. Your curiosity – and desire to keep tormenting Hyunjin – overcame your shyness, so you deliberately traced your fingers over the fabric, moving downwards until your palm rested firmly against his bulge.
It felt…intriguing, a seemingly odd combination of softness and hardness, clearly straining to escape its increasingly tight confines. Biting your lip in curiosity, in desire, you gave it a singular, inquisitive squeeze.
Hyunjin let out his most plaintive moan yet at the added, tortuous pressure, desperate for some relief from the tension. “Please, love, just please…”
“Please what, Hyunjin? You need to tell me what I should do for you, angel.”
You knew you were playing with fire, that you were pushing Hyunjin’s limits with all of your mocking and teasing. But seeing him squirming under you, so obedient, so desperate for your touch – you were willing to get burned for it.
“T-take off my pants,” he groaned out. “Please.”
“There we go,” you smirked, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the skin right above the fabric before bringing your fingers to his pants, swiftly untying the laces and working them and his stockings down his slender hips and legs.
You softly gasped as his length popped free, slapping against his stomach and making Hyunjin hiss in relief. While you had nothing to really compare it to, only two words came to mind for some reason: large, much larger than the fingers he’d fucked you with before – and pretty, just like literally everything else about him. You gently ran your thumb over the weeping, red tip, making Hyunjin moan from sensitivity as you collected the clear fluid on your fingertip.
Hyunjin’s eyes watched you darkly as you brought your finger to your mouth, darting your tongue out to seductively lap the droplets up. You shivered under the intensity of his gaze, a niggling sense at the back of your mind that you were operating on borrowed time. Yes, your husband had seemed more than content to let you have your way with him, giving into all of your teasing and little cruelties with soft, plaintive moans – until now. You had a foreboding feeling that you were steadily approaching the edge, the point after which your world would be flipped again, and your husband would get payback for every groan, every whine you’d wrung out of him – and more.
You tentatively lowered your head once again to Hyunjin’s length, your confidence much lower than before. You were in completely uncharted waters here, so you weren’t sure of what you should do next, how you could best please him.
“If you want, you could spit on it, angel, and then use your hand to work it up and down.” You jerked your head up to see Hyunjin staring down at you, propped against the pillows with a carefully neutral expression on his face.
You realized that, having picked up on your uncertainty, he was giving you the power to decide how your dynamic should evolve from here – whether you would continue to be in charge, dictating his pleasure – or whether he could slowly start taking back over again.
It was such a thoughtful, such a Hyunjin thing for him to do that your heart couldn’t help but melt.
You lunged up into his arms, Hyunjin huffing as he caught you against his chest, a searching but warm look in his eyes. Running your hands up the side of his face, you brought him down for a sweet, tender kiss – no nipping, no biting, just a slow tasting and enjoying of one another. When the two of you finally broke apart, Hyunjin pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, waiting for you to show him how you wanted to go from here.
You didn’t even have to hesitate.
Keeping your eyes locked with his, you wrapped your hand around his wrist, bringing his large, warm palm to the softness of your stomach. From there, you guided his hand to drag up your body bit by bit, passing over your ribcage, through the valley between your breasts, and over your chest, until it arrived at your neck. There, you leaned your head back, allowing him to fully wrap his hand around your throat, the gentle pressure drawing a moan out of your lips.
When you looked back up at him, Hyunjin’s eyes were dark, a small smirk starting to pull at his lips. He deliberately dragged his thumb across the soft skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, before pulling away from you, leaning back serenely against the pillows.
“I think I asked you to do something for me, sweetheart?”
And he was back.
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Judging from the volume of Hyunjin’s moans, from the way his thighs clenched and seized under your hands – you were doing a pretty good job for your first time pleasuring a man.
Hyunjin had quickly taught you what he liked: wet, sloppy kisses to the head; long, languid licks up and down the underside, fast bobs up and down with your mouth while thoroughly tonguing his shaft. Now, he had his fingers tangled up in your hair, working your mouth over his length with firm, but gentle strokes.
“You’re doing so well for me, love,” he moaned out, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around his cock driving him to distraction.
“Do you like me using you like this, just for my pleasure?” Looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, you nodded as best as you could, mouth still stuffed full with his cock.
Hyunjin couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you, enthralled by just how fucked out you looked – your wide, teary eyes; drool slowly dripping from the side of your mouth.
“Well, we’re going to have to stop now, angel, unless we want to bring the night to an end too early,” he laughed, gently easing your head off his dick. Once free, you couldn’t help but cough; while your mouth missed the weight of his length, your jaw was sore from hanging open for so long.
Hyunjin’s thumbs came up to your face, softly rubbing your cheeks and jaw to try and ease the strain. He watched you closely with tender eyes.
“Do you need a second, angel?”
You vehemently shook your head. “No!” Hyunjin watched you, amused, as you crawled back up to his side, placing your hand on his chest. “I want more.”
“You want more?” Hyunjin eyed you, a devilish glint in his eyes, as he leaned closer. 
“You know, you really were so mean to me earlier, love,” his gaze bore into you as he ever so slowly, tauntingly traced his fingertips up your arm, leaving goosebumps trailing in the wake of his touch.
“And I deserve some retribution, don’t you think?” His fingers had now made it up to your shoulders, heat pooling between your thighs at his words, at the hypnotic feeling of his hand dragging across your chest, straying teasingly close to where you wanted his touch – but leaving you hanging.
You nodded mutely, the sarcastic fire from before gone as you willingly, needily submitted to him, letting him lay you down against the sheets. You couldn’t care less about being in charge – you just craved, ached for the pleasure you knew he could bring you.
But, as Hyunjin prowled over you – his lean, lithe body reminding you of a panther, slyly stalking its prey – you knew you were in for a rough night.
Keeping his body propped up on his hands, depriving you of the gratification of feeling him against you, he leaned his head down to yours, tonguing at the shell of your ear. Smiling at the sound of your whimpers, he softly, sensually whispered to you.
“Well – don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
And with that, he caught your lips up in a searing, fiery kiss as he pressed his weight down onto you, your two bodies finally entangled in blissful skin-to-skin contact. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let everything slip away that wasn’t him: the heat of his skin against yours, the feeling of his supple flesh, his lean muscle under your hands – the delicious slide of his hard cock, trying to nestle itself into your slickening folds. He had you trapped in a sea of sensation, and he wasn’t going to let you escape any time soon.
“Look at me, angel.” Your eyes flickered open at the sound of his breathy voice, only to be greeted with a sight straight from heaven – or hell – itself.
Hyunjin – his thick hair, mussed and even more wild after your exertions; lips, bruised and plumped up; his eyes, black with lust and hunger.
“Watch me take you apart, love – keep your eyes on me.” And watch you did – you took in the sinfully gorgeous image of his delicate, pianist’s hands torturing your breasts, squeezing them until the flesh overflowed between his fingers. You watched his fingertips, teasingly dancing over the tender bruises he’d painted your chest with, making you whimper at the added pressure. You watched him lower his mouth to your poor, chafed-up nipple, the wet heat of his tongue alternately soothing the pain and riling you up even more. And you watched his eyes, such dark promise, such tempting sin swirling in his gaze that you wondered whether you’d make it through the night in one piece.
“How are you so pretty, my queen?” You shivered as Hyunjin started trailing one of his hands downwards, the cool metal of his bracelets dragging against your skin, making a delicious contrast with the heat of his wet kisses. Instead of heading between your legs however, you were surprised to feel his hand traveling to your side, grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand to his lips.
What was he doing? You had no idea what your husband was planning as he pressed a tender kiss to the back of your hand, the action sending familiar tingles through you.
“I want to try something with you, my love. Do you trust me?” Almost before the words were even completely out of Hyunjin’s mouth, you nodded firmly, bringing a warm smile to his lips.
“I’m glad, angel. Now, what I want to do is…” he squeezed your hand tightly in his as he shifted, his toned thighs flexing powerfully as he moved to kneel between your legs.
He reached up to hold your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes directly on his. “I want you to touch yourself for me, love. I want you to feel how tight your pretty little pussy is, how wet and ready it is for me.” He leaned up to press a sweet kiss to your lips, staying close so he could read your expression.
“Is that something you’d want to do?”
“Y-yeah, I want to.” You’d do anything he asked of you. You’d do anything to put that dimpled smile onto his face, to make his beautiful brown eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Good. But before we do that…”
Hyunjin gently folded down your three shorter fingers, leaving just your index and middle fingers standing. Then, he slowly, deliberately brought your fingers to his lips, letting your fingerpads just barely graze their plush surface - before taking them into his mouth.
You would never have thought that such a simple act could be so erotic, but here you were: moaning, heart pounding, slick pooling between your thighs as Hyunjin suckled your fingers, licking and slicking them up with his hot, wet tongue.
Letting your fingers go with a wet smack, Hyunjin guided your hand down to your soaking pussy.
“Now, push them in for me, angel – yes, just like that…” Your pussy, aching for any kind of relief, ate up your fingers with barely any resistance.
Shoving his shoulders back down between your thighs, Hyunjin spread your legs wide open, greedily eyeing your tight hole as you pumped your fingers in and out, steadily fucking it open for him. 
You couldn’t help but let your other hand trail down to your core as well, drawn like a magnet to your neglected, throbbing clit. It felt strangely intense, uniquely vulnerable, to be playing with yourself like this, under his watchful eye – at his command. It definitely felt good, and the heat of his gaze on you, following your every movement, only added to the pleasure. 
But – you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering, thinking back to earlier – just how good it felt when it was him doing these things to you. His fingers. His tongue.
Hyunjin watched, smiling to himself, as you steadily worked your hand and rubbed increasingly frantic circles into your clit, but all to no avail – you just couldn’t recreate his magic.
You paused at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice, addressing you with just a hint of smugness.
“It isn’t enough for you, is it?” You shook your head no, slightly disappointed that you weren’t able to pleasure yourself like he wanted you to. You made to pull your fingers out of yourself, but Hyunjin stopped you with a firm hand on your wrist.
Ghosting his other hand down over your thighs, he slowly gathered up the slick dripping out of you, using it to thoroughly lube up his own fingers. As you realized what he wanted to do, you couldn’t help but moan, heat rising in you at the thought of feeling that full.
“I’m going to go very slowly, okay sweetheart? If it hurts, I’ll stop right away.”
You mewled as you felt his fingers ever-so-carefully, gently push into your pussy. Your walls, still relaxed from your orgasm before, gave easily to the intrusion, letting his fingers slide in right beside yours.
You bit your lip, your free hand digging into Hyunjin’s shoulder as you felt, for the first time, what it was like to be so stretched out, so open.
You realized, with a pleasurable clench, that his dick would stretch you out even more.
Now, it was Hyunjin’s turn to moan, cock twitching as he felt your walls clamp down on his fingers.
“F-fuck, sweetheart – your pussy likes being filled up, doesn’t it?” He pumped his fingers, once, twice, before pulling out, bringing them to his mouth to clean up.
“Mmmh – still tastes delicious too.” He licked them clean, looking like Eros incarnate, before placing his hands by your head, caging you in underneath him.
“You sure you still want my cock, angel?” He covered your body with his once again, pressing sweet, tender kisses all over your face as you cradled his hips between your legs. “You can still say no; I’d die a happy man even if I just spent the rest of the night with my face between your thighs.”
You giggled – and creamed, just a little, at the thought of him doing exactly that, all night long. Some day.
“Hyunjin,” you savored the feeling of his name – the name of your lover – on your lips. “I really, really want you.”
A blindingly bright smile on his face, Hyunjin swooped down to catch your lips in a thorough, toe-tingling kiss before parting your legs further, opening you up for him. Propping himself on one hand above you, he quickly jerked himself to full hardness, teasing your entrance with wide swipes of his broad, soft head.
“Hyun-jiin,” you whimpered, approaching your limit. “Please, don’t tease me,” you whined, increasingly desperate for him to take care of you, to fill you up.
“Yes, my lady.” And with one last kiss to your palm, one last squeeze of your hip, he slowly pushed himself into you, groans falling from both your lips as each inch after delicious inch sank into your needy, leaking pussy.
He’d prepared you so thoroughly, pleasured you so meticulously that the stretch, deep as it was, felt nothing but divine. Your eyes rolled back into your head, a broken moan spilling from your lips as he seated himself fully in your cunt.
You heard Hyunjin curse under his breath as he felt your tight, slick walls enveloping him, the desire to thrust and pound and fuck making him almost tremble with the strain of holding himself back.
“Let m-me know when I can move, love.” And he just held himself there, panting, as he waited for your approval.
“Please, Hyunjin – move.”
“But…” you trailed off.
Your husband was an angel – a considerate, loving angel. You appreciated him thoughtfully checking in with you like this – you genuinely did.
At the same time though…you wanted your hypersexual, aggressive, teasing Hyunjin back for a bit. And you knew what to do to bring him out.
With the lightest, most delicate of touches, you ran your fingertips up the taut, defined muscles of his lower abs to his belly button, stopping to play with that damned piercing. Mustering up your most coy expression, you looked at him through your eyelashes, softly biting your lower lip.
“I thought you were supposed to be punishing me…my lord.”
You watched as Hyunjin closed his eyes for a second, clearly trying to get a grip on himself. “Angel…I was going to go easy on you…be sweet to my little virgin for her first time.” His hands fisted in the bedsheets, twisting them up into his grip. 
“But – but I should have known…that you just want to be fucked.” He punctuated the last word with a brutal thrust, one that made you almost scream in pleasure – and immediately crave more.
“Do it then – fuck me.”
And with that, you broke the very last string of Hyunjin’s tenuous self-control.
With a growl, he pinned your hips down with one hand, slowly pulling almost all the way out of you – only to ram back in, making you gasp in surprise – and toe-curling pleasure.
His pace was dizzying: fast, hard bounces – so hard that you were sure your poor pussy would be bruised from the force of his thrusts – punctuated by periods of slow, deep rolls, the deliberate drag of his cock against your tight walls driving you absolutely crazy. His toned, muscular hips rocked into you, pubic bone brushing up against your swollen clit with every delicious crash of his hips into yours.
As your moans continued to crescendo, hands desperately grasping at his shoulders for some stability, some level of purchase, you felt his hand leave your hip, fingers moving to tap at your cheek. You opened your eyes to find Hyunjin gazing down at you with a cat-like, almost unhinged smirk on his face, still steadily rutting into you at the same, punishing pace.
“Oh no, my sweet, sweet angel – is this too much for you, hmm?” Hyunjin mockingly cooed at you, wrapping his hand around your chin and squeezing your cheeks, making you look up into his face.
“N-no,” you forced out – and you were being honest. It felt so good – too good – but you were going to spontaneously combust if he stopped.
“Really?” He raised a curious eyebrow, a dangerous smile settling onto his face as he pulled out of you, leaving you whimpering at the emptiness. “Well – we’ll just have to fix that then, won’t we?”
In sudden, aggressive movements, he yanked your hips into his and grabbed your right leg, hoisting it onto his shoulder. Leaning down on top of you, and pushing your knee almost to your shoulder, he spread you wide open for him, placed your fingers back onto your clit – and immediately speared you back onto his cock.
Hyunjin knew he wasn’t going to last for much longer – it had been way too long for him, and you felt way too good around him. But he was determined to take you down with him – by any means necessary.
So, he proceeded to pound you into the mattress, balls slapping into your pussy with every thrust. You could hear the bed creaking wildly under you as Hyunjin rammed into you, driving you both towards your peaks at a breakneck pace. You rubbed at your clit furiously, so lost in sensation that you couldn’t process conscious thought anymore – couldn’t process anything other than him.
“I-I’m getting c-close, Hyunjin – s-so close,” you wailed, feeling that familiar, welcome cord knotting itself up in your belly. “Then let go,” he squeezed out, maintaining that same, punishing pace to get you to release. “Come all over me, angel – let me feel you milk my cock.”
The cord snapped – and you came violently, so hard that you almost jerked out of Hyunjin’s arms. Your thigh muscles, your hip muscles were all pulsing, contracting and releasing with such intensity that your body was shaking, your mind lost to the pleasure.
Hyunjin had slowed down as you hit your peak, letting you ride out your high, just watching in awe as you trembled and gasped prettily under him.
Even after you’d finally fallen still, your body feeling like jelly, still twitching here and there from sensitivity – your pussy was still spasming, convulsing around him – and Hyunjin couldn’t take it any longer.
Muttering soft, heartfelt apologies to you, he roughly splayed your legs out for him again, and started slamming into you once again. “Just a little longer, angel, just a little bit.”
Of course, you didn’t mind at all. It was now your turn to stare at him, admire his beauty as he single-mindedly, lustfully chased his high: his pink tongue, darting out to lick at his lips; his thick neck, on prominent display as he threw his head back in pleasure – you didn’t think any other man could look as sensual, as exquisite as your Hyunjin.
When the fluid motion of his hips started to stutter, you knew he was close; to help him along, you used your remaining energy to clench down around his cock.
Hyunjin gasped. You felt his length go rigid inside you, drawing a tired moan from your lips, before he exploded with one final thrust, spurts of thick, white cum filling you up, splashing against your walls. You whimpered at the sensation, overwhelmed – you hadn’t anticipated just how warm his cum would feel, the added heat feeling delicious inside your sore, battered pussy.
Hyunjin collapsed onto you, his arms too tired to hold up his weight any longer. You pulled him into your chest, letting him nuzzle into your breasts as he caught his breath. His cock was still buried inside of you, slowly softening as he relaxed – you found that you liked the warm, full pressure.
“Ugh,” Hyunjin tore himself away from your chest with difficulty, rubbing his face as he sat up. “I made you so messy, angel – let me clean you up, it must be uncomfortable.”
You were going to disagree, telling him that you felt perfectly fine, but your words turned into a whine, both of you wincing in sensitivity as Hyunjin pulled out of you. Hyunjin’s eyes widened as his cum started dripping out of you as a result, running down all over your folds.
“Mine,” he muttered possessively. “All mine,” he looked up at you, the heat in his gaze almost tempting you to push him down all over again – almost. Instead, you let Hyunjin drag himself out of bed, getting a pleasant eyeful of his pert, shapely ass as he wet a washcloth to clean you up with.
“Like what you see?” Hyunjin grinned down at you, leaning over you to gently wipe you clean.
“Very, very much,” you smiled back, running your fingers through his hair as you watched him take care of you so lovingly.
Once he was done, you yanked him back down next to you, curling into him and his warmth like you’d never let go again.
“Was that good for you, love?” Hyunjin asked quietly, head buried in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry if I was too rough or intense or –”
“Hyunjin.” You put a warning hand on his back, stopping him from going on. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”
You felt his lips curl into a smile against your skin, his arms pulling you in even tighter. The two of you lay there quietly for a moment, just enjoying each other’s warmth.
“In that case then…” Hyunjin lifted his head, gazing straight at you with a teasing glint in his eyes, running his fingers up and down the soft skin of your waist.
“Round 2?”
Your mouth dropped open, and Hyunjin immediately cracked up at the look on your face. As his face scrunched up in laughter, you smacked his shoulder, pushing him away in mock outrage.
“Not unless you want me to pass out on you, Hyunjin!”
“But what if I do?” You hated yourself for the shiver that passed through you, at the flicker of heat in your veins. You were going to hold him to that – one day. But for now, you were going to sleep. So, you rolled onto your other side, turning away from your tease of a husband with a dramatic huff.
But, of course, he wasn’t just going to leave you like that. You smiled to yourself as you felt toned arms wrap around you, pulling you back into Hyunjin’s warmth. “I’m sorry, love,” he giggled into your ear, pressing placating kisses to your neck and shoulder. “I’m just messing with you. I know you’re probably tired and sore…and anyways,” he ducked his head into your neck again, piping up with a small, shy voice.
“Right now, I think I’d rather learn what it feels like to have you fall asleep in my arms, if that’s okay.”
And that was perfectly, perfectly fine with you. 
For a short while, at least.
In reality, Round 2 ended up being your fault. Hyunjin had wanted to stay cuddled as the two of you slept, you the little spoon to his big spoon. But, when you woke up in the middle of the night to the pleasurable feeling of his length half-hard against your ass, you couldn’t help but grind back on to him, waking him up with your moans as his cock brushed through your folds.
He ended up just taking you in that position, propping your leg up on his arm as he fucked you from behind, growling into your ear about how desperate and naughty you were for him. He filled you up, yet again, and this time, the two of you just fell asleep connected like that, too tired to clean up or do anything else.
The third “round” though – if you could even call it that – was all Hyunjin; you woke up in the dim light of early morning, already dripping, to find your husband laying between your legs and unwilling to move until you’d released onto his mouth – twice.
There probably could have been a fourth round too, in all honesty. But, when you both woke up for the final time, bright morning light streaming into your chambers, you found that you were content just holding each other, exchanging soft, heartfelt kisses and staring into each other’s eyes. 
After all, this was your first morning together – just the first of many, many more to come.
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You and Hyunjin both limped into breakfast the next morning with bloodshot eyes and matching scarves tied closely around your necks. You did your best to mask your wince as you sat down, sore and tender beyond belief from your husband’s incredibly thorough attentions, but you weren’t entirely sure if you succeeded.
Minho looked like he didn’t know whether he should throttle you or Hyunjin first.
Chan, despite all his snark and bluster beforehand, couldn’t look either of you in the face. Ironically, he somehow had been forced into taking guard himself outside your chambers last night – and he’d heard enough to keep his ears flaming bright red around the two of you – permanently.
And the rest of the boys just seemed fit to burst.
Jisung kicked it off, opening his round eyes wide in a display of fake innocence. “Oh no, did you not sleep well, Your Majesties? They do say parts of the castle are haunted you know…with all of this weird moaning and things going bump in the night.” Felix, leaning against the wall at your side, couldn’t hold back a snicker; a dark, ominous glare from Hyunjin, however, quickly shut him up.
“That’s ridiculous, Han – you know the castle isn’t haunted.” You gave Seungmin one of your most charming smiles, thinking that maybe he was on your side this time – but you should have known better.
“I’m just worried about your health, Your Highness. I mean – scarves? In this weather? The only way that makes sense is if you’re both getting sick – and in that case, you should probably be back in bed.”
This time, it was Jeongin who cracked up, trying to hide his smirk behind a serving tray. Hyunjin glared at him too, but it didn’t faze Jeongin at all. You were honestly impressed.
Either way, your husband had clearly had enough.
“Shut up, right now, or I’ll throw each and every one of you in the stocks for a week…yes, even you, Minho, I don’t care if it starts a war.” Hyunjin’s ever expressive face was positively seething with annoyance – if glares could kill, all of you would have been incinerated.
You, however, just found it all funny at this point. While you tried to be serious, maintaining an appropriately stern expression at Hyunjin’s side, you couldn’t help but let a small giggle escape. Hyunjin’s eyes snapped to you, face contorted into his best “you too?” expression; but, at the happiness on your face, he couldn’t hold back a grin either. Looking on, the boys decided to pipe down, secretly pleased to see the two of you so happy together.
As Seungmin roped Hyunjin into a discussion about new letters and updates, you turned to your brother, who was sitting on your other side, and softly slid your hand over his.
“Minho…do you have to go so soon?” You’d been startled when Hyunjin told you, on your way to breakfast, that Minho was planning to leave almost immediately afterwards.
“Yeah, I really should.” Minho looked at you, a wistful smile on his face. “As much as I want to stay with you and Hyunjin for a while, I know I shouldn’t antagonize them too much.” You knew he was right – still, it really, really hurt to think about him going.  
The two of you sat quietly for a second, hands clasped together tightly.
“But honestly, I’m not worried.” Minho paused, a small, soft smile on his face as he looked between you and Hyunjin.
“I think you’re in good hands here.”
A matching smile crept onto your face as well as you turned to contemplate your husband. While Hyunjin was still engrossed in his conversation, he still somehow managed to pick up on your thoughtful glance. Covertly, under the table, he slid his hand into your lap, holding your free hand and rubbing his thumb over your palm: a quiet acknowledgement of you, and a small modicum of comfort before he could see to you fully.
Yes, you smiled to yourself, squeezing Hyunjin’s hand tightly in your own. You were in really good hands.
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chans-bad-girl · 27 days ago
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young lust's squib
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pairing: fem!reader x seungmin
genre: pure smut and the smallest bit of humor at the end lol
word count: 0.2k
warnings: exhibitionism (in the cinema lmao don't kill me), fingering (clitoral stimulation + penetration), making out, dirty talk, pet names
🖤💙
harley quinn fights through tasers, chains and a dozen soliders. but you can't even keep your eyes open at seungmin's hand between your thighs.
it starts out slow with french kisses in the back of the cinema, hand on your waist and the other on your jaw. but by the middle of the movie you're on his lap, the hand that doesn't rub your clit pressed to your mouth.
"quiet baby, it's not just us here." seungmin coats his fingers in your arousal before he pushes them slick into you.
his palm strokes your clit as his fingers move in a slow pace, long drags.
"you're so cute clenching around me, baby. you like it when I touch you like that?"
you can't answer through his hand so your body presses into his touch instead. hickies to your neck make your head spin.
when he picks up his pace, you try to drag it out a bit, make him edge you, but he doesn't falter. his fingers ram into you faster by the thrust and his palm against your clit heats up your thighs, up to your stomach, until your high pulsates through every of your muscles and your eyes roll back.
only when you squeeze your legs does he remove his hand from your heat. with your skirt back down, you switch to your seat.
"want some popcorn?"
"seungmin, what the fuck?"
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hanjisick · 2 months ago
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drive.
pairing: chan x reader
smut.
warnings. corruption kink, oral (f receiving), virgin reader
word count. 1K
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a little untainted flower you were. sometimes, chan wanted to tear off your petals one by one. to ruin you and break you apart.
now was one of those moments.
you were wearing a short, adorable sundress that teased him with your thighs, listening to one of the songs he had composed.
"it's good, channie!" you nodded your head to the beat. cute. too cute.
"you like it?" he asked, returning your wide grin.
there were more tracks.
"me and minho were working on a song, if you want a sneak peak."
your innocent eyes lit up in excitement as he turned his head back to his computer. you fiddled with the wires of his headphones, watching his eyebrows furrow as he pulled up an untitled track.
"listen."
he watched you study the new beat. "this is also good channie!"
your face flushed, thighs squeezing as you realized what it was about.
"channie... what's this one about?"
he subtly licked his lips, "driving."
"doesn't sound like it." you muttered, looking anywhere but chan's dark gaze.
"what does it sound like?" chan questioned, quirking an eyebrow.
"it sounds like... erm, it sounds a little..."
"sexual?" chan finished your sentence.
"yeah," you were an embarrassed mess.
he loved it more than anything. it shouldn't turn him on as much as it did.
you took off your headphones. the song ended, thank god. you were feeling a little too much pressure between your legs to be able to continue to listen.
"i wrote this song about you, baby."
your mouth opened, but you weren't sure how to respond.
"did you hear me, love?"
nodding, you were frozen stiff as he rolled his desk chair out from under his desk, patting his thighs.
"sit down."
now, your hands were tangled in his hair, mouth on his as you moved your hips, making him groan.
"fuck, how do you feel so good? we haven't... you haven't..." chan's hands moved across your back before you pulled away.
"chan... what if someone walks in?"
"it's locked."
that satisfied you, grabbing his locks of hair as he pressed kisses to your neck. then, he began to suck pretty purple marks all over your throat.
"channie," you moaned, pushing him away, "i'm— i'm not ready. not here, not today."
"that's okay," he immediately agreed, "we don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
your face flushed once again as an idea popped into your head, hiding your face in your boyfriend's neck as another thought popped into your head.
"what're you thinking?" chan chuckled, hands in your hair.
"maybe you could... could you," you hesitated as your boyfriend listened patiently. you loved him so much.
"could you eat me out?"
"of course, baby," chan tried to contain his excitement, lips now back on your neck.
he messily kissed the spots he had sucked before, grabbing your thighs and lifting you up onto his desk, pulling down your underwear as you leaned back against the wall.
your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation, you had never done this before.
you let out a shaky breath and opened your eyes, scared of what chan was thinking.
"gorgeous," he whispered as his hands pulled up your dress then spread your thighs, "tell me if you need me to stop, baby."
you nodded, head thrown back as chan pressed open mouthed kisses to your core.
when he added his tongue, beginning to pump it in and out of you slowly, your hands flew to grab at anything you could, accidentally smashing your hand against the keyboard and replaying the untitled song aloud.
chan chuckled against you at your actions, the vibrations adding to your pleasure. he looked up at you from below, dick hardening at the sight. you looked so filthy.
you bucked your hips up and chan's hands went to hold them down, nose brushing against your clit.
when you whimpered at the contact, he focused his mouth on your clit and removed a hand from your hip. he let two digits pump in and out of you as he sucked, holding down your hips.
"chan!" your hands tugged on his head.
chan loved it all. he loved the way you tasted, he loved the mess that you were above him. he loved your noises. he loved that he was slowly ruining you.
the idea that he could have you begging for oral in the future spurred him on, sucking harder and faster and doing everything to make you feel so good.
your words were incoherent, but somewhere in the jumbled mess he picked up that you were gonna cum.
he curled his fingers inside of you, which is what pushed you over the edge, thighs shaking uncontrollably as chan rode you through your high.
he came up from under you, wiping his lips with his sleeve and pressing pause on the music.
"fuck, now i'm gonna get a boner every time i listen to that song."
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starryychan · 6 days ago
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Just Us And The Open Road || Han Jisung
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Just Us And The Open Road || Han Jisung
Genre: Road trip, fluff, best friends to lovers
Word Count: 2.6K
———
It had been Jisung who’d insisted that the only proper way to start a road trip was a greasy bag of fast food.
Although it cut away from your already limited time, you agreed to stop at one of the joints along the way. Once the food was in your possession, the next step was getting out of the city. It was painfully slow, between the traffic and stoplights and the detour for food. You set up your phone for the music and sorted the food in the meantime; a chicken salad for you and a burger and fries for Jisung, although you snagged quite a few of the salty potato strips for yourself. At last the city began to melt away, and Jisung pulled onto one of the highways leading out of town. Buildings and little shops were replaced by wide stretches of country; tall grass, farmland and wide open air. Music filled the small vehicle as it sped forward, as if your little car was just as eager for this freedom as the two of you.
“Open the windows, baby!” Jisung crowed to no one in particular. Soon enough your hair was a mess in the wind, the sunroof was opened to the sky, and adrenaline was racing through every cell in your body. The very taste of freedom sailed along the breeze, refreshing in every sense of the word. You glanced over to see Jisung grinning, hair tangled in the wind, crackling energy alight in his eyes as he laughed with enjoyment. Your stomach was instantly filled with butterflies, and you returned your attention back to the food before he could notice your flustered state.
“Thus starts,” you broke off a chunk of burger, holding it out for Jisung to take with his teeth. “The most epic car trip that will ever grace this fine country road.”
The plan was simple: drive as far as the two of you could, stop in the middle of nowhere to see the stars, and drive back to greet the sunrise. A sleepless night had never seemed so appealing.
“Isn’t that a bit dramatic?” Jisung laughed between the food in his mouth, hands lightly gripping the steering wheel as he glanced at you, eyes turned to crescents of happiness. Gosh, you’d never seen him this light, as if leaving the city had momentarily relieved all of the burdens and responsibilities from his shoulders. That was exactly how you felt.
“This coming from you?”
“Touché.” He muttered, pouting as you poked his side. He yelped immediately, chiding, “I’m driving!”
You sat back in your seat, giggling as you stole another fry. He sighed dramatically. “I can’t wait till you’re in this seat.”
“Not for many long hours.” You teased, and Jisung snatched his fries from your grip with playful irritation.
You relented, swinging your legs up on the dashboard. Jisung glanced at you with a wry smile. “Where to?”
“Anywhere. Absolutely anywhere.” You responded, eyes on the blue, blue sky. As long as you were headed away from the city, you couldn’t care less where you were going.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jisung replied, and you knew he shared the exact same thoughts.
You’d always been like that, even as kids; completely in sync, as if you could read each other’s minds. It hadn’t taken long for him to become your closest friend.
Friend. Right.
You shoved the sudden, uninvited thought from your head and spoke, “How do you feel about Day6?”
“Is that even a question?”
You laughed, cranking up the music and letting it blast out of the speakers. Perfect for a road trip. Perfect for drowning out thoughts you couldn’t let cross your mind.
He’d been your friend for years, and these recent… butterflies were throwing your mind off balance. Why hadn’t you noticed how cute his smile was before? Why were you just realizing how very kissable his heart shaped lips seemed? Why did you even want to kiss him??
You caught yourself staring a second before Jisung did, quickly averting your gaze to the road, pretending to admire the scenery when in reality he was the only one you wanted to admire.
“What, like the view?” He teased, making your heart leap skyward.
Damn, so he had noticed.
“Just making sure you didn’t get anything on your face.” You replied, hoping he didn’t notice the blush heating your cheeks.
“Sureeee-” he yelped as you poked him again, grinning. “Jeez, you really can’t keep your hands-”
“Shut it, Han Jisung.” You interrupted, pulling back and looking forward again. The damned flirt in him… you really wished he meant it, but you could never tell with him. A mystery, that’s what Jisung was.
He only smirked, eyes returning to the road. You couldn’t lie and say you were more than a little disappointed, yet you weren’t sure why.
Foolish hope. He flirts with everyone, you’re nothing special.
You tried to push away those thoughts and feelings as the countryside flew by. Eventually, you closed your eyes to relax and listen to Jisung hum along with the music filtering from the speakers, breeze ruffling your hair. Sometimes you peeked a look towards him, focused on driving, and let yourself drink in his features. Round chestnut eyes, adorable cheeks, that particular mole that sometimes gave you the most ridiculous urge to kiss it. He nearly caught you once, but you closed your eyes in time, his face inked in your brain.
In the calm, you tried to pinpoint the moment your platonic feelings towards your best friend had flipped to romantic. There were so many moments that you considered: that time you’d been bedridden with cramps, and he’d been there in an instant with a huge supply of chocolate and his Netflix password to pass the time. Or that time you’d been frantically studying for an exam, and Jisung had stayed up half the night over Facetime helping you cram any last knowledge into your brain. Or was it in the small moments like this, just side by side in your natural rhythm, where you’d fallen for him.
Between the steady driving of the car and the soothing music, you must have fallen asleep because Jisung shook you awake when the sky was tinged with sunset orange and pastel pinks.
“I almost didn’t want to wake you up, but,” he grinned, almost mischievously. “It’s your turn to drive.”
The next few hours of driving were filled with enthusiastic banter and ridiculously loud singing. Despite the aging heavens, your energy levels remained high in the clouds as the car sped forward underneath a dark sky.
“...so she comes up to the counter, asks for whatever, and begins to flirt with me again.”
“Again?” You laughed at Jisung’s exasperated expression, recounting the girl who couldn’t seem to leave your friend alone.
“She really can’t seem to take the hint that I’m not interested.” He sighed, falling farther down in his seat.
You glanced at him from behind the wheel before turning your eyes back to the road, grinning, “Why not? She seems nice.”
“Oh God.” He groaned, making you laugh.
“Well, who are you interested in then?” You spoke the words before thinking about them, and instantly wanted to swallow them back up when Jisung turned his eyes to you and you had to try extra hard not to turn beet red.
“Secret.” He replied sweetly.
You sighed dramatically, to which he stuck out his tongue.
“What about you, huh?” He nudged your arm, and without warning your heart jumped in her chest. “Who’s the lucky-”
“No one.” You responded firmly, and Jisung chuckled.
“Now with an answer that fast, I know you have a crush.”
He laughed again at the redness spreading over your cheeks. Dammit.
“Well, I’m not telling either.”
“Fair enough.” Jisung propped his feet up on the dashboard, leaning back to close his eyes. “But I will find out.”
You weren’t quite sure what to say to that, so you just let Jisung nod off as you focused once more on the road.
Well, mostly focused-but how could you not get distracted by his soft little sighs in his sleep, and the small pout on his lips?
His extremely kissable lips-
You shook your head, trying to rid it of the thought, but when it returned you allowed a few small seconds to imagine it. Imagine you could kiss him, and what it might feel like to have him kiss you back. With the boy asleep beside you, it almost seemed possible.
At last, when you were certain you were in the absolute middle of nowhere, you slowed the car. Jisung must have sensed the change in pace; he shifted to stretch, and slowly opened his bleary eyes.
Where you normally would have teased his dazed-ness, you found yourself simply staring, because he was rubbing his tired eyes and yawning and you couldn’t help but think of how adorable that was-
“Ready to see the stars?” You whispered at last, and that seemed to bring Jisung out of his sleepiness.
His eyes met yours with a glimmer of excitement. “Absolutely.”
With Jisung’s assistance, you crawled through the sunroof, hoisting yourself onto the roof of the car. After helping Jisung up as well, you turned your eyes to the glittering sky that immediately took your breath away. Without the obstruction of city lights, the sky was mapped with billions of stars that your awestruck eyes attempted to drink in, praying such a gorgeous sight would remain imprinted in your memory for as long as possible. The faint outline of galaxies trailed through the shimmering diamonds above. You swore you’d be content to stare at them every night for the rest of your life.
Maybe even for the rest of eternity, if the boy beside you was there, too. His eyes were almost glowing in the starlight, and a small smile of amazement flickered on his countenance. You didn’t realize you were staring until he caught you-damn, you were doing way too much of that today.
Instead of the anticipated teasing, however, he just smiled wider. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
You nodded. “So worth the trip.”
“Are you cold at all?”
His thoughtfulness was so endearing. You just shrugged. “Only a little.”
He scooted closer, shoulder brushing against yours and causing your heart to speed up at the light touch. He smelled nice, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.
You attempted to distract yourself. “Ever learn about constellations?”
“What-like, the Big Dipper?”
“Yeah, I don’t know much either.” You chuckled, and Jisung grinned.
After a second of silence, he spoke up. “It’s kind of calming, don’t you think? The stars, I mean. Like-that’s the universe up there.”
“I think it’s a bit intimidating.” You admitted. “We’re so small in comparison to such a huge world.”
“I think that’s why I find it calming.” The boy murmured, and you watched him play with the sleeve of his tee as he spoke. “If I’m so small then my worries seem smaller, too. More manageable, you know? Not as hopeless.”
He seemed to get lost in his thoughts, so you gently nudged him. “Woah, you’re getting philosophical on me now?”
He laughed softly. “Whoops, guess it’s my inner genius coming out.”
You shoved him lightly, giggling. “Mm, sure.”
His smile was so wide now, and you swore he was glowing with happiness. He looked so beautiful right now that the next words kind of just tumbled out of your mouth without a second thought.
“So… who’s your crush?”
He sighed deeply. “Why are we talking about this again?”
“Hey, I’m curious!”
“I told you, it’s a secret.”
“I’m your best friend!”
“So?”
“So shouldn’t you confide your secret in me?” You leaned back on your palms, watching as his eyes reflected the galaxies above.
He was silent for a minute, eyes turning back to survey the stars. In the calm, you had time to wonder whether you really wanted to hear his answer or not, anyways. Because then that would be it. The answer.
“Okay, fine.” He turned, making your heart jolt as he leaned close to whisper in your ear. His breath was warm, his voice gentle and tinged with nerves: “It’s you.”
Words flew from your mind, taken by the night-time wind as Jisung pulled back again. The confident, irritatingly flirtatious boy’s eyes surveyed yours with an uncharacteristic apprehensiveness, his teeth trapping his bottom lip nervously. After a minute of silence only penetrated by chirping crickets, he clasped his hands together, murmuring. “You gonna tell me yours now?”
You didn’t even think about it when your hand found the back of his neck and pulled him into a firm kiss. He reacted immediately, lips moving slowly against yours, hands gingerly resting on your thighs as he leaned into the kiss, a light sigh escaping his mouth. That was enough for your stomach to explode with butterflies, your mind spinning into a daze before he pulled back, seemingly just as surprised as you. However the space between your lips lasted for hardly a second longer before he was kissing you again, more roughly this time, and every nerve of yours sparked aflame. His mouth moved with haste, like he was just as impatient as you’d been to kiss him-and you relished the idea that you might drive him just as crazy as he did you. He teased your mouth by biting softly into your bottom lip, pulling it back slowly as he broke away, leaving you stunned as your eyes batted open.
Jisung’s breathing was heavy as he opened his eyes to look at you, deep brown orbs filled with loving passion. “I don’t think I ever want to stop kissing you now.” He breathed, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.
“Then don’t.” You whispered, immediately feeling shy for such a bold statement. But all the boy did was grin giddily at you.
“Yes, ma’am.” He murmured; his hands hurriedly gripped both sides of your neck to tug you closer. He teasingly lingered a breath away from your lips before capturing them perfectly and wonderfully in his.
And his kisses were everything. Sweet, chaste ones and fast-paced, passionate ones and everything in between. His tongue played with yours, pressing it down, digging deeper to taste every inch of your mouth. You felt his hands trail down to your hips, pushing you against the car roof as you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him take away every last one of your breaths.
And then it was just the two of you, tangled together under a dark, twinkling sky.
The night passed in a whirlwind of euphoric closeness. You talked and laughed and kissed and kissed him until both of your lips were numb. Too soon, you sadly accepted the fact that you needed to head home.
You buckled into the passenger seat and Jisung hit the gas, the beginnings of a sunrise visible in the pastel pinks and blues colouring the horizon. Tired, you leaned back in your seat. Soft r&b floated from the speakers, almost lulling you to sleep-but before you could nod off, you spoke, “Hey, Jisung?”
“Hmm?”
“I liked kissing you.”
He didn’t reply for a moment, and when you opened your curious eyes, the boy was simply watching you, eyes wandering over your whole figure, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Just kissing-?”
“Shut it, Han Jisung.” It took everything in you not to smile too widely. “Eyes on the road.”
He smirked, hand coming to rest over your thigh-the damned flirt he was-and said, “You got it, babe.”
You closed your eyes with a small smile on your face, as one last thought bubbled to the surface of your mind before weariness brought you to sleep. Dear God, I am so in love.
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jiminbbyboy · 9 days ago
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Featuring: Bang Chan x f.reader
status: 98% finished (final editing)
exes lover au
↳ They were high school sweethearts and Chan let his ego get the best of him. He her high and dry without a second thought.
“I didn’t deserve what you did to me.”
“I know you didn’t, but then again I actually never deserved you.”
warnings: contains cheating, explicit sexual content, cussing, mentions of a minor character battling cancer. 
If you would like to be tagged please let me know.
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