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chaninfused · 11 months ago

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EVER READ SOMETHING SO SDHFGJSKDGFBSDJKFSDF

Worn-Out Soles [1] | b.c

pairing: Chan x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au warnings: kidnapping, injury, death word count: 10.1k notes: — this is a retelling of the 12 dancing princesses :) inspiration taken from the original fairy tale, the Barbie movie, and the retelling by Jessica Day George, Princess of the Midnight Ball. — mc in this story has multiple sisters as befitting the original fairy tale, but they are not blood-related for inclusivity reasons. In a world where magic lies in the arts, you are a princess of Terpsichani, the kingdom whose power comes from dance. Loved by many, you care for your country deeply, though in truth your heart only belongs to the palace's royal cobbler, Chan, who holds equal affection for you in return. It's a love that could never be, you both know, though it doesn't stop you from pining. But then you go missing on the final night of your kingdom's Moonlight Festival, leaving behind nothing but the memories of a final dance. When your sister brings news of your disappearance to Chan's doorstep, there's only one thing he can do. Follow you into the depths of hell to bring you back—or die trying. Part 1 >> Part 2

To Spin a Yarn | Stray Kids Masterlist

When the soft rap of your lady in waiting sounds at the door, you barely look up before calling her in. Out of the corner of your eye, Chaeyoung curtsies in the doorway. “Your Highness.”

You continue scribbling at the papers strewn around your desk. “Yes?”

“The royal cobbler has arrived.”

The pen in your hand stops midair.

Slowly, slowly, so as to keep the smile twitching on your lips from taking up your entire face, you raise your head to see Chaeyoung standing in the doorway. “Have my sisters been informed?”

Her eyes glint with mischief and the knowledge that you haven’t managed to fool her at all. “Of course.”

“Well.” You stand up, placing the pen carefully down. Steadfastly ignoring Chaeyoung’s grin, you step around the desk. “I suppose we will all just have to go and meet him, then.”

. . . . .

Yuna’s sharp squeal hits Chan’s ears even before he steps foot into the pavilion, which is all the warning he needs before five princesses accost him at the entrance, bouncing on their toes. “Chan!”

“Hello, Your Highnesses,” he laughs, maneuvering his heavy box around them. “What makes you so excited today?”

“Did you bring our shoes?” Ryujin asks eagerly.

Chan frowns, but not before letting them see the glint in his eye. “Was I supposed to bring shoes, now?”

Amidst the chorus of whines from the youngest and giggles from the older girls, one voice joins the fray. “Well, my sisters would be dearly disappointed if you hadn’t.”

Chan’s heart skips a beat in his chest as he turns around to meet your smile. You stand in the pavilion’s entrance from where he just came, the flower-wreathed arch framing your image perfectly under the sun shining bright in the sky.

A sharp elbow jabs him from behind. “Say something,” Jisung hisses. “You’re staring.”

Chan can feel his ears going red. “Would you be disappointed too, Your Highness?” he asks, making a mental note to flick his apprentice’s forehead later.

“I believe I would.” You step forward with that warm smile still on your face, and for not the first time in his life, Chan wonders what good he must have done in a past life to deserve standing in your presence like this, a sunflower forever basking under the light of your grin. “You know we all look forward to your shoes, Chan.”

Chaeyoung, your lady in waiting, mutters something under her breath. Chan doesn’t quite hear it, but from the giggles of your sisters and the glare you flash at her, it can’t have been anything good.

Chan’s ears must be flaming by now. Putting down the box, he musters his most natural smile. “Well, good thing I won’t have to disappoint any of you,” he says, undoing the latch. “Come closer, Your Highnesses—I hope you are pleased with these.”

Oohs and aahs and squeals of excitement slowly begin to fill the pavilion as Chan and his apprentices begin to hand out the shoes. It’s with no small pride that he takes in the cries of delight from each of the princesses—with each pair made of the finest quality material, hand stitched and sewed with sparkling thread in intricate designs, there is a reason Chan trusts very few people to help with his handiwork. He grins as the five young princesses begin to spin around the pavilion, joyous grace evident in every one of their movements…

You step forward shyly, and Chan snaps back to earth. “Anything for me?” you ask.

“Are you kidding?” Jisung snorts before Chan has the chance to respond. “He spent days on yours!”

��By all the stars—I spend days on all of them,” Chan hisses, praying his hair covers his ears.

“You don’t usually spend two entire weeks trying to get each design right, though.”

Chan stares at his second freckled apprentice, who only stares back with an innocent expression. Jisung he can understand being a pain in the neck, but Felix?

Your shy laugh sounds like bells. “Am I that demanding a customer?”

“Oh—oh, stars, no.” Chan swallows hard, ducking into the box for the last pair of shoes. “I just—” he holds out the box and tries not to react when your fingers brush his as you take it, eyes focused intently on his face—“I just wanted to make them… right.”

Right? Right? Seriously, that was the only word you could come up with?

You start to untie the box, completely oblivious to Chan’s inner imminent mental breakdown. Slowly, too slowly, you lift the shoes from their cushioned spot inside, Chaeyoung taking the box from your hands. For a moment, you don’t react.

Chan starts to lose it.

You don’t like them. You hate them. The design isn’t what you wanted, there are flaws in the fabric, something is terribly wrong with the shoes despite all the time he spent on them—he’s messed it up this time like he always feared, seriouslymessed up—

Your eyes meet his once more, sparkling brighter than the sun and the stars. “I—Chan.” You step forward, holding the shoes to your heart. “Chan, they’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

Chan’s knees nearly give out right then and there. Thank all the stars.

“You’re—I—” You look down at the shoes and back at him, as though you’ve lost your own words. Chan’s heart soars with the shine in your expression. “You do this every time,” you say, almost laughing. “Words can’t describe how much talent you possess, how hard you must have worked for this. These are truly…a work of art.”

He swallows down the overwhelming smile itching to reveal itself on his face, forces it into something smaller, more manageable, and infinitely less manic than it would have been. “I’m glad you like them, Your Highness.”

“Chan! Chan!” Ryujin and Chaeryeong come running up, Yeji following behind with a half annoyed, half apologetic glance that she flashes at you. Chan watches as you turn to them, smiling first at Yeji with something in your eyes that immediately wipes the worry and annoyance from your sister’s face, then at the younger girls clamoring for your attention. “Play us music, please! Like you did before!”

You shoot an apologetic look at him. “Girls, don’t demand things from Chan,” you admonish before turning back. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. It would be my honor.” He smiles at the young princesses. “Give me a moment to tune, yes?”

The two of them cheer before skipping away, Yeji corralling them towards the center of the pavilion. You look at him, expression soft. “You really don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” Chan says, pulling out his small flute. “But I enjoy it, and I have some time before my next appointment.” You still don’t look convinced, so he speaks again. “Truly, Your Highness. Your sisters are adorable. I like playing my flute, and I like watching you all dance. It’s a pleasure.”

Finally, you relent. “All right then, Chan. Although—” You stop for a moment, then seem to set your jaw with determination. “May I ask, will you be at the festival?”

Chan blinks. The Moonlight Festival, only the most important festival of the year, the festival that sees the most foreign royalty and dignitaries traveling to your kingdom to partake in the celebrations? “…Yes, I suppose I will.”

“Right.” Your lips curl in light embarrassment. “I…if you happen to be by the palace that night…”

Behind you, Chaeyoung looks extremely amused. So do Jisung and Felix.

That does not bode well for either Chan or you.

“I know the chances are not large, but if we see each other…” You swallow hard, but your eyes don’t stray from his even as your younger sisters run up to try and drag your attention away. “Only if you can, since I’m sure you’ll be quite in demand, please save a dance for me.”

Ryujin and Chaeryeong pull you off, then, eagerly shouting for you to put on your shoes and spin with them in a dance. And as Chan watches you laugh with them, beginning to whirl across the pavilion with graceful steps as light as air, joy spilling from your fingertips into the flowers and grasses and leaves…

All he can think of is his answer, which is of course.

. . . . .

“…Your Highness?”

You jerk up with a start. Immediately you tear your eyes from the magnificent pair of shoes sitting by your doorway, but it's too late. When you turn your head, Chaeyoung’s face is staring right into yours.

“Stars, Chaeyoung!” You jump again. “What are you doing?”

“I should be asking you that, Your Highness.” She pulls back, one eyebrow raised in an arch. “You’ve been zoned out for the past five minutes.”

It’s the shoes. It’s the damn shoes. You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. Why must Chan’s handiwork distract you so much? Can’t he make them a little less ogle-worthy, less intricate and delicate and graceful and just—a type of beautiful that words can’t describe—

“Are you sure it’s just the shoes you like?” Chaeyoung asks, the other eyebrow rising to join the first. You don’t even need to lift your face to see the smirk on her lips, you can hear it just fine. “Or perhaps the cobbler who made them?”

“Stop it,” you mutter, dragging yourself up once more. You can’t resist the urge to let your gaze wander over the shoes again, though, imagining the care and devotion that must have gone into every stitch, every design. It almost pains you to think about dancing in them, dirtying the silk and ruining Chan’s handiwork as you wear them out.

Chan. You just manage to catch yourself before you sigh. His face dances before you in your memories, his bashful smile, his dark hair that always seems to be ruffled by the wind, his sweet eyes crinkling as he laughs. He’s lovely—beautiful—and you can’t fight the heat crawling up your cheeks whenever his strong, calloused fingers brush yours every time he hands you his latest masterpiece.

He’s beautiful, to be sure. Handsome in the most attractive way to you. But far more attractive is the love he brings to everything and everyone he touches, as though every person he meets couldn’t help but fall in love with his soft kindness, his quiet joy, his gentle earnestness that comes with everything he does. You see it in every delicate golden stitch on the white satin slippers he made you for the upcoming festival. You see it in every seam he sews on all of the other slippers he’s made for your sisters. You feel it in every scant touch you share, see it in his eyes whenever you manage to meet his gaze.

Stars above, all you can think of is the dance you might share with him on the final night of the festival. If you see him, and if he sees you.

With a sigh, you finally look back at your lady in waiting, apologies already on your lips. “I’m sorry, Chaeyoung. I must seem a mess.”

“You kind of do.” Chaeyoung’s blunt tone lifts the corners of your lips. “But it’s the festival. The preparations always drive everyone mad. And combined with your little star-crossed romance—” she easily dodges the swipe of your hand, giggling all the way—“I’m sure you’re very overwhelmed.”

The word stop finds its way onto your tongue once more, but you don’t let it fall because it would be useless. And besides, Chaeyoung’s right—you are overwhelmed. You love the Moonlight Festival, really you do, but being one of those in charge of organizing the largest event of the kingdom every year makes you want to scream to the heavens sometimes.

Maybe you should try that. It sounds like it would relieve some stress.

“Well.” You look down at the piece of paper you were scribbling on before Chan’s craft distracted you (as well as thoughts of his dark hair and smiling eyes as he handed you the shoes). “At least the guest list is finalized. I think.”

“Oh?” Chaeyoung cocks her head. “Who’s coming?”

“An assortment of foreign royals—Joshua and his entourage will be here, thank the stars—and some of the ambassadors whom we sent overseas will return for the occasion.” You flip through a few more sheets. “Of course we also had to account for all the nobility who will be staying at or near the palace during the week.”

“Are Jun and Jeongyeon coming back?”

A real smile spreads across your face at the mention of two of your best friends. “Yes, they are,” you say. “With Minghao and Sana.”

Chaeyoung grins. “It will be wonderful to see them.”

“Surely it will.” You heave yourself up from behind the desk, clutching the sheaf of papers in hand. “Come with me to drop these off with my father?”

. . .

The king’s quarters are in the wing completely opposite from yours and your sisters’. You have no actual idea why this is the case, but you like to joke deprecatingly to Chaeyoung (when no one else is around) that it’s because he has no intention of seeing any of you more than he must. Which is a fair assumption, in your opinion. He doesn’t even show up to dinner these days, just takes his meal with his advisors or foreign dignitaries alone. Unless he decides he also needs you.

The guards part ways upon your entrance into the west wing, bowing respectfully as you pass. You give them a brief nod before stopping in front of your father’s door, knocking twice on the wood.

“Who is it?”

“Y/N.”

“Come in.”

Any trace of your previous smiles falls away as you step into the cold room. Your father hardly looks up from his desk even as you approach. “What is it?”

“I have the finalized guest list, as well as the other preparation details you asked for today.” You place the papers in front of him. “That is all. Please let me know if there are any issues.”

All you get is a hum in response.

Only years of having dealt with this behavior keep you from doing much more than press your lips into a thin, thin line. “I will be off, then.”

You’re opening the door when he speaks again. “Y/N.”

There’s enough time to exchange one bemused glance with Chaeyoung before you turn around. “Yes, Father?”

He’s actually looking at you this time. In his eyes swims some sort of emotion—if you didn’t know better you’d say it was something like regret or worry, but why would he feel anything like that?—as he scrutinizes your face. His throat bobs as though he swallowed something. As though he has something he wants to say, but can’t. Or won’t.

“Father?”

All the emotion falls off his face as soon as the word hits the air. “Don’t forget that you will take dinner with me tonight,” he says, eyes dropping back to the papers on his desk. “The convoy from Ourania will have arrived by then.”

You frown. Since when have you ever forgotten an appointment and needed him to remind you? There was no reason for him to have said that, none at all. In fact, you almost feel offended, but then you look at him again.

A bobbing throat. A surreptitious swallow.

Maybe he did really have something to say, but decided against it at the last minute.

Whatever. You shake off the lingering discomfort. If what he wanted to say was truly important, he would have spoken. Your king may be an absent father, but he doesn’t generally shirk his duties. “Yes, Father,” you say, then shut the door behind you.

. . . . .

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s moping, Lix.”

“Well, he should stop.”

“I am not moping,” Chan says loudly as he dumps scraps of leather into a pile in the far back of the shop.

A beat of silence follows. Then Jisung snorts. “That’s exactly what someone who’s moping would say.”

“Or, it could be that I’m not moping, and you’re misunderstanding things completely.” Chan turns to his two apprentices, both staring owl-eyed at him and his probably very red ears. “Did neither of you hear me ask if one of you could go out and get something for us to start dinner?”

Jisung’s shit-eating grin turns sheepish. “I forgot.”

Chan tries to hide an exasperated smile with a sigh. “It’s fine, just go now.”

Without missing a beat, Jisung grabs Felix, and with a shouted farewell, the two of them go crashing out the door.

Chan returns to cleaning the mess in his workshop, putting away tools, tossing leather scraps into the scrap bag as they emerge from corners he didn’t even know existed. He is not moping. If anything, he’s—daydreaming. Of something. Moping implies that he is upset. He is anything but.

“If we see each other…please save a dance for me.”

He snorts a little. As if the answer would be anything but yes. Which you probably know, because over the years he’s learned that despite his attempts to hide his affections he is still extremely obvious. And if Jisung and Felix are to be believed—which, unfortunately, they often are, because even if they’re loud and obnoxious and love to tease him at any point in time, they’re very observant and usually right—

You hold a similar affection for him, too.

The knowledge doesn’t do much, though. Because for all Chan loves you and prays that his love is returned, it wouldn’t matter if it was. In fact, it might even be for the worse. You are a princess and he is but a cobbler, a commoner without magic, which means he could never be yours. If this were one-sided, at least you might still have a chance at happiness elsewhere. But if you truly do love him back…

Chan swallows down a wave of guilt. It’s not his fault, he knows logically. He doesn’t control your feelings any more than he controls his. But in moments like this, he wishes more than anything that things could be different. That he might have magic, that he might have been born a noble, that he might have even the tiniest of chances with you.

Hm. Maybe he is moping. Chan sighs. He should stop. He should focus on something better—namely the fact that he might finally have the chance to dance with you in just a couple of weeks. A smile begins to lift his lips at the thought as he exits the workroom to wait for his apprentices to return.

As if on cue, the door opens with a loud bang. Two pairs of feet tramp indoors, and then there’s the sound of something thumping onto the table.

It’s suspiciously quiet. Especially for his loudmouth apprentices.

Someone shushes the other. Probably Jisung hushing Felix. Silence ensues.

“…Is he still moping?”

“Obviously, Lix.”

Chan sighs.

. . . . .

The week before the festival brings with it flowers, paintings, gifts from envoys from countries near and far, foreign royalty settling into the palace with their entourage or sending ambassadors if, for some terrible reason, they can’t make it this year. Two days before the full moon, you’re pretty sure you haven’t sat down in over twelve hours—you ate your lunch standing in a corner of the kitchen, and only because Yeji dragged you there under threat of knocking you out for several hours so you could take a break.

Beloved sister, even if not by blood. Also a royal (literally) pain in your behind sometimes. But a needed one.

The palace bustles with controlled chaos, servants in your country’s colors and those of so many foreign lands mingling in the halls as they scurry from room to room carrying linens and luggage and trays of food. They’ve nearly crashed into you more than once, but who can fault them for trying to do their job? It’s all you’re trying to do, too.

(“Chaeyoung, tell me something that will get me through this,” you ask on the third day of this mess, head in your hands as you squat on the floor.

“Well, Your Highness, on the final night of the festival I believe your beloved cobbler may save you a dance.”

She dodges the swipe of your hand with a cackle, but despite what you would have your lady in waiting believe, her words do lift the burden on your heart and make it a little easier to smile.)

Finally, the week before the full moon arrives. You stand with your father in the throne room, looking out into a sea of seated royalty all gazing back, solemn excitement dancing in their eyes.

This is what you’ve been waiting for. What you’ve been planning this festival for—the celebration of the full moon, yes, but also the hum of excitement in this room, what your very country is so known for. Pride swells in your chest and you stand taller on the dais, smoothing the folds of your ceremonial robes—glowing white, accented with curves of darkness for the still not quite full moon. As each day passes, the darkness will fade from your clothes until you and most of the other festivalgoers are clothed only in white, to honor the moon and the night.

Your father finishes his little speech to a smattering of applause through the room. He turns to you and nods curtly.

Dipping your head in reply, you step to the center of the stage, bowing to the audience. “As my father, king of our land and holder of our magic, just said, I first welcome you to our kingdom once more.” Another polite round of applause. Smiling, you begin to relax, letting your mouth move in the words of welcome you’ve practiced so many times that you could say them in your sleep.

That is, until the throne room door opens with an ominous creak, cutting you off mid-sentence.

Confusion rustles through the crowd as people turn their heads to see who dared interrupt such a time-honored tradition. You yourself let your words fade from your lips, eyes narrowing towards the door in time to catch a glimpse of bright, fiery red.

The emblem takes you a moment to place at first. It looks familiar but not in the same way of so many other royal insignias, in the way that you’ve seen it emblazoned on the clothing and jewelry of real, breathing, living people. You have only ever seen this emblem, fire curling around a spiked rose dripping blood, in textbooks. Because this emblem belongs to a kingdom only ever described to you as having risen from the depths of hell itself. Born of death and flames and blood, nothing the pure magic of your land would ever dare to touch—

“His Majesty, the king of Kereseia.”

Your butler bows low, but even from here you can see that he’s trembling. Your eyebrows furrow further—you have questions, many of which will no doubt be directed at him later when this is over and you have a chance to try and figure out just what in the world is happening—but then—

The king himself steps through the doors, flanked by an armored entourage.

Red and black drape his body, gold hung in chains around his shoulders and chest. A crown of blackest metal rests on his forehead, studded with glowing rubies and amethysts, and a matching necklace hangs around his neck. He’s handsome—ridiculously handsome, as though he were carved from stone by the finest sculptors the land of Apollon had to offer—but the haughty curve of his lips sends walls thrusting up around your heart, hardening your mind to his beauty.

He stalks up through the center aisle, coming to a stop level with the first row of seats. His boots click together on the hard floor, a sound that echoes through the now-silent hall.

One dangerously curved eyebrow raises, and a vision comes to you of a curved blade sparkling under the moon, arcing down in a silver flash before it buries itself in someone’s flesh.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” That haughty smile plays cruelly on his lips, sending a shudder up your spine. “I trust you know why I am here.”

Your eyes turn to your father. Outwardly, he doesn’t look as though anything has gone amiss. His fingers, however, clench the arms of his throne with such force they’ve turned almost as pale as the marble itself.

He doesn’t say anything.

“No? Then perhaps I must jog your memory.” The smile disappears, revealing eyes cold as ice despite the fire burning within them. Those sitting the nearest to the king flinch. You gulp, despite yourself. “I believe I was promised an invitation to your famed festival.”

Your father’s jaw twitches.

“Imagine my surprise as these past months came and went, with not a word from Your Majesty’s hand.” The prince’s theatrical sigh echoes throughout the room. “I thought it only fair, then, that I come to receive an explanation of this misunderstanding.” He tilts his head, revealing a jawline as sharp as the imaginary blade still curving in your mind. “One does know, of course, that a promise made to a Kereseian will never be broken.”

You look straight at your father, the king, who sits wordless on his throne. Why isn’t he saying anything?

Are these claims true? you demand through your eyes. Why did you make the promise? Why didn’t you honor it?

What in the world is going on?

Silence stretches in the throne room, echoing off the stone walls and floors. With every second that passes, your fingers clench more tightly in your skirts, itching to say something, anything to rectify this mess even as your heart pounds in fear, but words won’t come to your lips because your mind is still spinning as it tries to understand the prince’s words and the implications they have on your family—

Your father’s voice cuts through the silence. “I am well aware of this.”

Your own eyes widen in shock as gasps fill the room, but he continues. “There must have been a mistake when the invitations were sent.”

The second dangerous eyebrow rises, fire burning sinister in dark eyes. “A mistake.”

For a moment, you really think that fire might come to life and burn this entire room to the ground.

Your father’s eyes don’t waver. “Yes.”

Everyone’s eyes are riveted on the two men, one high on the throne, one standing tall below. Neither of them looks like they will give in anytime soon.

Which means you might all be dead in a matter of minutes, if what you’ve read of Kereseia is true.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty.” Your heart nearly pounds out of your chest as the eyes of the hall come to rest on you, including those of your father and the bloodred king. Surprisingly, your voice doesn’t shake. “Allow me to clarify one thing. It is true, then, that the king had been promised a place in our celebration, and that therefore he should be allowed to participate in our festivities tomorrow.”

The entire hall seems to hold its breath as they await your father’s reply. You’re not sure whether you want him to say yes or no.

“Yes.”

Gods and stars above.

You swallow hard amidst the gasps and whispers, turning back to the king. “Then I must apologize, Your Majesty,” you say as steadily as your thudding heart will allow—anger or fear, which is it? Perhaps some of both. “I was in charge of the festival’s guest list and many of its preparations, and yet I was never made aware of this…promise. I can only suppose that as your family has not…graced ours with your presence in many years, the knowledge of this promise was perhaps misplaced or miscommunicated. For that, I do apologize, and take full responsibility.”

The Kereseian king holds your gaze for one, two, three long seconds. You swallow hard, refusing to look away, but you can feel yourself trembling all over.

Then that deadly, knife-blade smile begins to curve his lips once more, and you have the sudden feeling that you have just made a very, very grave mistake.

“…No,” he finally says slowly, eyes traveling over every inch of your face. “No, you would not have been made aware.”

Even though there is still a healthy distance between you two, the oil in his voice, the deadly beauty of his face, the lascivious sweep of his gaze makes you want to take a step back. As though instead of just looking at you with his own eyes, he’d…licked you, or something, instead.

And beyond that—what does he mean? That you wouldn’t have been made aware? Of course you didn’t realize he was coming—your kingdom has never invited his, as far as you know—and your father never said anything, but his words imply that someone knew and should have told you but that he knew they never would—

A bobbing throat. A surreptitious swallow.

You picture your father behind his desk, that moment of strange emotion you saw in the thin press of his lips to each other. Something he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue, perhaps. But something he never did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at your father. His king’s crown stands high and haughty on his head, his hands placed on the golden armrests of his throne, but the skin of his face has drawn tight around his skull, fingers gripping his seat with undue force. You recall the readiness with which he gave his assent to the prince’s demands, the slightest shake in his voice that only a few of you could have heard. As though he knew the prince’s words had been spoken true.

What deal did he make with the kingdom of hell that could have resulted in this?

“Accommodations for you and your entourage will be prepared as soon as possible, Your Majesty.” You try for a smile. “Until then, please feel free to partake in the evening’s activities. I’m sure you will find something to make your journey worthwhile.”

The prince’s handsome smile curls white, sharp. Like a curved dagger’s blade held up to the light, right before it plunges into your eye.

“Yes.” He seems to lean in closer, that knife-blade grin never once faltering from his lips. “I’m sure that I will.”

. . . . .

Year after year, the Moonlight Festival has never failed to bring joy to Chan’s life. When he was young and his parents were alive, they always took him to the night markets, bought him all the sweets their money could spare, and danced with him in the crowded streets, their three giggles echoing off the laughs of everyone else around them. The royal family has never spared expense on these annual celebrations, meant to honor the entity from which Terpsichore, the kingdom’s patron deity, draws her power. All of the most famous dancers in the kingdom swear up and down that they dance better under the full moon, and as Chan laughs and spins from one person to another, joining hands with a woman and her husband before whirling off to yet another joyous stranger, he agrees. The nearly-full moon above glows pale and bright in the dark night sky, lending energy to all those who celebrate on the earth below.

Yet this year, the celebrations are dampened. By no fault of the royal family, of course—even if Chan didn’t know you were the one behind almost all of the planning for this festival, he could say beyond a doubt that this year’s festivities were fantastic, maybe even more dramatic than last year’s. But whispers permeate the dancing, rumors of a kingdom long cut off that has come to Terpsichani for the first time in decades, maybe even centuries.

Kereseia.

Chan doesn’t like to speak ill of anyone, but his parents told him tales of the Kereseians as a child to scare him into behaving. All children are told the same stories, of fire curling around thorny roses and a kingdom eager to kill.

And now they aren’t just stories. The kingdom is actually here, in Chan’s homeland of Terpsichani, allegedly by invitation of the current king.

They haven’t made an appearance in his area, not yet at least. Chan doesn’t expect that they will. He more or less expects them to be like some of the haughtier royalty from other kingdoms, rarely straying from the immediate vicinity of the palace—and for that he is thankful. He’s not sure he wants to come face to face with any member of that entourage.

Though anxiety twists his stomach every time he thinks of you near them, being forced to entertain them throughout this weeklong stay.

It’s not as though he could do much about it, though. He’s just a cobbler in love with a princess, and no matter how he may fancy himself an acquaintance of your family, a friend if he’s being generous, his shoemaking privileges extend about as far as conversation with you. Which is privilege enough. He won’t be greedy. But thinking about you in that palace, being forced to speak with the Kereseian king himself…

Maybe the Kereseians are nicer than he gives them credit for. Chan doesn’t know. But though he hopes that’s true, something tells him that it's probably not.

Whispers still seem to permeate the excitement of the crowds as Chan fights his way to the palace on the final night of the celebrations, though nothing can fully mute his eagerness when he finally muscles his way as close as he can get to the stage. An enclosed area meant for nobility and visiting royalty blocks his full view of the stage, but no matter. The moon will be full tonight, shining from above to illuminate the loveliest spectacle of the entire festival—the Terpsichorean dance.

Named for the goddess of dance, Terpsichore herself, it is the ultimate homage to the moon. Chan knows the dance itself varies by region, but all serve the same purpose and bring the same honor. And of course, in the capital city itself, who would perform the dance but the daughters of the royal family themselves?

Chan just manages to keep himself from blushing. He watched you dance last year and the two years before wearing white and gold slippers he’d crafted himself, and it had only made him fall even more in love with you. Perhaps it’s shallow, but Chan finds it hard to believe anyone in the crowd could feel anything else if they’d seen you spinning about so gracefully in your white robes edged with gold, a dancing ray of the moon herself.

More and more people crowd in as the sun sets further, until the front of the palace is packed with spectators and the sun only just peeks over the horizon. For all the teasing he had to endure from his apprentices when he left early, Chan feels endlessly grateful that he was able to secure a spot near the stage.

Familiar melodies begin to filter in from the musicians around the stage. The crowd begins to settle, eager whispers turning into cheers as the introduction begins for your piece. By the time the musicians have finished, the crowd is cheering and the sun has finally set, the full, pale moon beginning to hover in the sky.

The music pauses. Changes. Everyone falls silent and Chan finds himself holding his breath as he waits for what he knows will come next—

Your lovely figure draped head to toe in white silk edged in gold that just catches the moonlight, a ray of the moon sent specially to bless the kingdom now.

Chan’s breath lodges in his throat. His chest aches. You’re always lovely, always so lovely, but as you begin to dance, he wonders if the word lovely even begins to capture the mystery, the beauty of your existence. No, not a single word could. But that is what his kingdom’s art is for—dance. A way to express what words cannot.

Just as your performance does now.

It’s no ordinary dance, the way you flit through the air. No. Throughout the kingdom there are those blessed by the goddess herself with magical abilities that come with dancing talent—painting memories through the air through a well-placed movement, calling on rain or sun to bathe the earth. Chan himself has no magic though he loves to dance, but his mother was blessed with the ability to recreate memories through her movement.

But those of the noble and royal lines may be blessed with a different ability, one that marks their special honor by the goddess Terpischore herself. They can weave emotion as they dance.

Just as you do now.

The crowd gasps, sighs, cries as one as you whirl across the stage, painting sorrow, joy, hope—all emotions Terpsichore felt through her journey to godhood, to patronage of this kingdom, to her ultimate tie to the moon. For all Chan watches, almost refusing to blink for fear of missing a single moment, he knows he could never hope to describe the sight before him, for words could never capture the beauty of your movement.

The song ends. You flutter your way to the front of the stage amidst cheers and shouts for an encore, and you bow once, twice, five more times before the crowd quiets enough for you to disappear behind the stage, leaving everyone to disperse under the rising moon.

Chan allows himself to be swept away with the crowd, filtering into the streets as musicians take up their instruments and begin filling the roads with cheer. He tries to stay by the palace, though, remembering your request.

“I know the chances are not large, but if we see each other…please save a dance for me.”

Ordinarily, he would never presume to take a dance from your hand. But you requested.

And never would he even think of saying no.

The minutes tick past, though, the moon rising steadily in the sky, bathing the streets in cool, lovely light. Chan laughs, dances, even catches a glimpse of his apprentices as they spin through the crowds shouting things he can’t hear, but though he keeps a hopeful eye out, not once does he see you until—

Someone taps his shoulder, and he spins around to see a very familiar face.

“Your—” Just in time, he sees the finger you have on your lips and cuts himself off before revealing your location to everyone in his vicinity.

“Sorry,” you say, smiling sheepishly. “I snuck away, I don’t want to be found out so quickly.”

You’ve changed out of the filmy white robes you danced in. You still wear white, just like the rest of the crowd, but your clothes are certainly sturdier and more serviceable than your dance garments were. Even then, though, your beauty still shines beneath the moon, and Chan has to remind himself to breathe.

“You were beautiful,” he says, all in a rush. Then he blushes. “I mean—you’re always beautiful.” His blush deepens as you giggle behind a hand. “But your performance…it was beyond words.”

“Thank you, Chan,” you reply sincerely, eyes shining. “I’m glad you were there to see it.”

“How did you feel about it?” he asks. “Were you happy?”

You nod immediately. “I think it was probably the best I’ve ever danced in my life,” you laugh, pulling him clear of someone whirling past. “I was nervous, for certain. But I love this piece, and I’ve practiced it so much. I’m very happy with how I did.”

Chan’s heart seems to burst under the brightness of your smile. “I’m incredibly happy you feel that way, Your Highness.”

“Well, I must thank you for it, too.” You hike up your skirts slightly, waggling a very familiar pair of slippers at him—white satin embroidered with gold accents, every stitch done by his own fingers. “Your shoes are incredibly comfortable, Chan. And so beautiful. I say this all the time, but I almost feel bad dancing in them, they’re such works of art.”

“Well, that is what they are made for.” Your smile gives Chan the courage to continue. “And I will always be happy to make you more, whenever you’ve worn a pair out.”

You look truly moved, your smile growing softer, shyer under the pale light of the moon. Chan himself can feel the redness of his cheeks creeping up his ears. You reach out and take his hands. “Thank you, Chan. I hope this does not come across as…too much, but you are very precious to me.” Your voice takes on a serious note that wasn’t there before, but your eyes shine brighter. “Not just your shoes. You are a wonderful person, and I am happy to have known you, even for the brief duration of our lives.”

Chan’s heart thuds in his chest, his ears echoing with your words. “You—you are very precious to me too, Your Highness,” he gets out, voice trembling. “I will forever be endlessly grateful that we have met.”

For a moment, you only stand, staring into each other’s eyes. Chan forces himself to breathe, to take in the moment—he will never be as close to you again as he is now.

“I do recall asking that you save me a dance,” you finally say, eyes sparkling. Chan’s heart leaps as you continue. “Do you have the time to indulge me, just this once?”

“Of course,” he breathes, squeezing your hand lightly. “Your Highness.”

He doesn’t say the words that ached to come after, though.

For you—I have all the time in the world.

. . . . .

In the end, you’re not sure how long you dance with Chan. It started as one dance, but even when the crowd separated the two of you, sending you off to other partners as the crowd laughed and cheered and spun, you always came back together, over and over again, like…

Like it was meant to be.

A sudden ache races through your heart, and in response, you hold Chan tighter. Not enough to hurt, hopefully not enough for him to even notice. Because as right as this feels, as right as you know this is, so many others would tell you in a heartbeat that this is not your place—would even go so far as to physically pull the two of you apart, if they could.

You love Chan. Have known it for a long time, actually, ever since the day you watched him place Yuna’s first pair of slippers on her feet with the softest smile on his face and every confusing feeling you’d been trying to figure out hit you with the force of a thousand suns. It’s been years since then and the love you have for him has never lessened, only grown.

And, you’re almost sure, it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe that Chan loves you too.

Which makes it all the worse. Because if this was one-sided, at least you could comfort yourself with the cold knowledge that you’d be the only one suffering in this love that no one would accept. But if Chan loves you too, then what is this, this something-but-nothing that the two of you have now? Something that won’t just hurt you, but will also hurt him. The best thing you could do would be to end things cleanly on your end, and pray Chan will move on.

Only you can’t. Selfishness, you suppose. The knowledge of how it feels to have Chan’s arms wrapped around you like this only makes it harder—safe, warm, peaceful, even in this chaos of dancers under the full moon. Even this simple frame for partner dancing, closer than you’ve ever dreamed but still leaving some distance that closes every so often as he pulls you out of reach of another laughing couple, is enough to make you feel lightheaded. You’re in too deep. You couldn’t try to drag yourself out of this if you tried.

This is the closest you’ve ever been to Chan, wrapped in each other’s arms as you spin about the roads in front of the palace, cheeks warm with sweat and laughter. Perhaps only your oldest sisters and Chaeyoung know how much courage it took for you to ask him for a dance, how nervous you were for this one little tryst to work out—but it was worth it. Because this is likely the closest you’ll ever be. The closest you’ll ever allow yourself to be.

You’ll never tell him how you feel, after all. Even if you know, and he knows, and everyone knows. Because even though it’s meant to be, it isn’t. And that hurts.

Chan seems to be oblivious to your thoughts as the music begins winding to a close, which you’re forever grateful for as you smile at him. His dark curls stick to his forehead with sweat. His eyes shine almost brighter than the moon itself.

Dancing stars, you love him. You love this gentle man who holds you with so much care, who looks at you like you hung the full moon in the sky. You love him so much.

“Your Highness?”

You blink at Chan, whose expression has turned worried. Damn. You let yourself slip. “Are you tired?” he asks, already guiding you to the edge of the fray, away from the brunt of the music and noise. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time. You must need to return soon.”

“No, I—it’s all right.” You try to cheer up, but reviving your fallen smile proves harder than you thought it would. Fumbling for an excuse that isn’t I was thinking about our hopeless love story and made myself upset, you say, “It’s…a lot of things. With the festival.”

Chan’s eyes narrow slightly. “Was it…”

Your heart drops in your chest, and suddenly all the previous lightheartedness of the night has gone, replaced by a curtain of dread. “Kereseia,” you finish quietly.

A short silence punctuates the air between you two. In the whirl of your performance, the final day of celebration, and the ecstasy of dancing in Chan’s arms for the first time in your life, you’d forgotten about the problems that sprouted in your life, fully formed, just a week ago.

The hand holding yours tightens its grip. You welcome the added pressure, squeezing harder as you try to ground yourself against the anxiety beginning to seep back into your chest. “So it’s true,” Chan says lowly, his eyes turning dark. “They’re here.”

You nod slightly. It’s not surprising that he’s heard something already. Rumors spread quickly, and it would only take one whisper about a kingdom as notorious as Kereseia to spark a wildfire. Really, you wish that was it. That it was just a strange delegation from a kingdom never before seen, come to demand that you include them in your celebrations once more.

But the king. He…

“Your Highness!”

Your eyes snap open. You hadn’t realized you even closed them. Chan is gripping your arms now, almost like he’s holding you upright, and you realize you must have been falling, and he caught you.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying to breathe. After the first gasp, breath comes more easily. “I just—this week has been—I love the festival, and I love planning it, but—”

Against your will, unwanted memories of the past week come flashing into your mind. The first time you spoke with the Kereseian king, when he interrupted the opening ceremony for nobility with his grand entrance. Those many times—too many to be coincidence—when you ran into him in the hallways and he begged so graciously for a moment of your time, only for you to feel dirty all over after he spoke to you, his eyes wandering over your figure all the while. When you were trying to speak with your sister and he suddenly appeared, somehow snatched you away, and by the time you realized he was holding your wrist it already felt like snakes had been wiggling up your arm.

“He’s terrible,” you whisper.

Chan sucks in a breath and immediately you regret speaking. “Who?” he asks, voice quiet. Dangerous, maybe. “The Kereseian king?”

Well, there’s no denying it now. Even if you tried, he would know, anyway. “Yes,” you reply miserably.

Chan’s eyes, worried and concerned, despite their hardness. Nothing like the sickly sweet, oily looks the Kereseian king had for you every time you spoke. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Yet. You pray Chan didn’t hear the word you left out, though something tells you he did. “It’s just—the circumstances surrounding their visit. My father won’t tell me anything.” Not for lack of trying, too. You stormed into his office the minute you had time, seething with embarrassment at having to take responsibility for the whole mess of “missing” the invites for the Kereseian delegation, and beyond his trite apology for not telling you earlier, you couldn’t get a word out of him beyond it will be cleared up soon and don’t anger them.

You’ve seen him four times since then. Each time, though you tried, he wouldn’t tell you a thing.

“It’s nothing, Chan,” you say again, as though repeating it will make it true. You attempt a smile. “Really. The festival will soon be over, and this Kereseian business will…go away.” Hopefully. Chan doesn’t look convinced, so you curve your lips wider even though you know this smile is far from reaching your eyes. You try for a joke. “At least, it won’t be my problem to deal with. It’ll be my father’s.”

Chan looks at you closely, and in that moment, you want nothing more than to sink into his arms and cry and tell him everything. Instead, though, you bolster that smile, and though by the end you’re sure Chan hasn’t been convinced of anything, he doesn’t continue to pry. “All right,” he says, worry still on his face, but the concern melting into a small smile instead. “But in any case, it’s late. Maybe—”

“Maybe, Your Highness, it’s time for you to return.”

. . .

For a moment, you think that this is just a bad dream. That you’ll pinch yourself and wake up, and when you do you’ll be back in bed. Safe. Away from the voice.

But you slowly turn around, coming face to face with the Kereseian king himself.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“Your Highness.” He tilts his head in what looks like an attempt at respect, the little smirk that makes your skin crawl never leaving his handsome face. “Your family is looking for you.”

“Your Majesty.” You take a small step in front of Chan, who seems to be frozen to the spot, and give a slight curtsy. “My sisters knew where I was. Did they send you?”

There’s no way they did.

“Not exactly.” His smile widens. “I heard your father ask where you were, and volunteered my services to find you.”

Behind you, Chan shifts. You raise a foot beneath your skirts and step slightly on his toes. He’s smart. He’ll understand that that means please don’t get involved.

“Who’s this?” The king peers past you and you actually feel your throat close up. Not Chan, not Chan, not Chan! “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I don’t believe we have either,” Chan replies, voice polite but cold. You’ve heard that tone before. It usually comes out when one of the more aloof nobles doesn’t plan to give him the time of day or the proper respect due to a human being. “Your Majesty…?”

For all the situation, Chan’s blatantly fake confusion almost makes you want to laugh. “Chan, allow me to introduce His Majesty, the king of Kereseia.” You realize then that you don’t know the king’s name and that almost makes you laugh for real, especially as Chan dips into a stiff bow that looks anything but natural. “Your Majesty, my good friend, Chan.”

“Your good friend,” the king repeats, slowly, like he’s testing out those words on his tongue. You can almost feel Chan stiffen next to you, and you pray you won’t have to step on his foot again to keep him from trying to interject. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Chan. I do have a duty to escort Her Highness back to her family, however, so I fear we must part.”

“Do not worry,” you reply quickly, as smoothly as you can before Chan can retort. “I was going to return soon, anyway. Please, Chan, have fun at the festival.” Your smile turns real, if only for a moment, as you meet his gaze. “It’s the final night. You should enjoy it.”

Chan’s eyes flicker to the side, where you know the Kereseian king stands. “So should you.”

“And I did, thanks to you.” You take his hand, squeeze it for a minute—far longer than you should, with the king’s gaze boring into your shoulder, but you ignore it until you have to let Chan go. “I will be all right,” you add in a whisper that hopefully only he can hear. “Really.”

He doesn’t look happy. His lips press together almost into a line, his eyes dark and serious like you’ve never seen before. But he must sense it when you want this to end, so he only nods, curves his lips slightly, and bows. “In that case, have a good night, Your Highness.” When he rises, his smile is wider. “I had a wonderful time.” With that, Chan disappears into the crowd, leaving you with a man you don’t trust at all.

Without another word, you turn back towards the palace and begin walking. If it’s a little quicker than your usual pace, you try not to let that on.

Unfortunately, the king keeps up. “I didn’t know that princesses of Terpsichani were allowed dalliances outside of nobility.”

You laugh a little, trying not to let the edge in your voice sound. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, you’ve only been here a week. There is a lot of you don’t know about us.” Annoyance creeps into your tone, despite your efforts to keep it out. “And Chan isn’t a dalliance.”

“Well, he seems quite taken with you.”

Anger fizzles in your chest, threatening to spill into your words. “We’re friends,” is all you say.

“Good, then.”

Frowning, you turn toward him. “Good?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” The king’s eyes seem to glow under the moonlight, pulsing pools of shadow. You almost fear drowning in them. “Do you know why I have come here, to your kingdom?”

Nothing about this feels right. “I was under the impression it was for the Moonlight Festival, Your Majesty.” You turn to continue on to the palace, but his cold hand catches your wrist. Pulls you back.

“So your father really told you nothing,” he murmurs, almost as though to himself. Before you can digest that, though, he continues. “It was for the festival, Your Highness. Partially. But that was not the promise your father gave me, you know.” His lips curve and you can only think of the cruel blade of a knife, silver under the moonlight before it sinks into your flesh. “He promised me you.”

He promised me you.

“…What?”

“He promised your mother, first.” The king laughs as though you aren’t reeling, about to fall if not for his wrist still grasping yours. “And to my father, not to me. But the poor woman was so sickly after your birth, and ill. My father wouldn’t want a weak woman to bear his own child.” He peers into your eyes and you can do nothing to pull away. “This my father said, and so yours bargained a second time. One of his daughters for my father’s son.” White teeth glint as he grins. “Me.”

Disgust roils in your stomach and gives you the courage to speak. “But why?” you cry out. “Why would my father make such a bargain in the first place?”

“Don’t you know how much trouble your father and mother had, conceiving you?” He smirks. “I suppose, at some point, your father had to take matters into his own hands. And my own father wasn’t going to say no to a princess with magic as strong as yours.”

Your throat feels like it’s closing up. In a horrible way, it makes sense—you know your mother had trouble with your birth and had always wanted more children even after you were born, which is why she adopted your sisters before she died—but this can’t be true. It can’t be. “I don’t believe you,” you snap, ripping your arm out of his. “I don’t believe you!”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you believe me.” Suddenly he has both of your wrists clamped between his fingers, his skin seeping cold into yours. “I will have you, a darling queen to dance with me and entertain my court day and night, and you will have my child. And with your blood, that child will be able to walk in the sun, as so many of us Kereseians cannot.”

Vaguely, you realize you’ve never seen one of the Kereseian delegation under daylight—always in a room with no windows during the day, or milling about at night. You didn’t know they couldn’t walk in the sunlight.

You’re learning so much tonight, and none of it is good.

“So we can do this one of two ways.” His face is so close to yours, so handsome but so cold and so repulsive when his breath hits your skin. “You can come willingly, and we will announce our engagement tonight to your father. It will be wonderful news to crown the final night of the Moonlight Festival, will it not? Our marriage two weeks from now on the new moon, as befits Kereseian royalty.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips. Engagement. As if—as if you would ever—

“Over my dead body,” you snap.

The king isn’t even fazed. “I thought you might say that,” he says with flippant ease, though if you didn’t know better you’d think you heard a ripple of a snarl in his tone. “But think wisely, Your Highness. Your father signed a contract with our kingdom of hell. We did not coerce him. He came to us. We delivered on our end, and now he must deliver on his.” He laughs. “Will you try to resist fate?”

Despair claws its way into your heart, ripping open your throat as you try to think. Try to speak. Your head is spinning and everything is wrong—your father, who you trusted, your mother, who is dead—

Against your will you wish you had never told Chan to leave. That he was still here with you. That you could draw from his strength in this moment where you feel so powerless. But he shouldn’t be caught in this, though. You’d never want him injured. Never want him hurt.

Not in the way you’re sure the Kereseian king could manage.

His memory lends you courage, though. Fate. This is no fate—it will not be your fate. You will not go willingly into the kingdom of hell, and you will not sign your life quietly away to this monster who dares claim you so.

“Over. My. Dead. Body.”

The king’s eyes darken. “Very well, then,” he says, and just for a second his grip loosens. You try to snatch the moment to break free but then it tightens and you gasp against the pain as he brings you even closer. “I should make this clear now, though, Your Highness.”

Flames whirl up from the ground. Heat flares at your skin. And then you’re falling, falling, falling into the earth and the blistering wind is tearing your body apart piece by piece and there’s a horrible noise in your ears that you have a terrible suspicion is your own scream—

Your feet slam into a hard floor. You nearly buckle where you stand, knees shaking, only held up by the painful grip the king still has on your hands. Everything around you is dark, lit up by strange, curling flames, and it is cold. So cold.

He smiles down at you now. Knife blades. Weapons to kill you as his mouth comes closer to whisper in your ear.

“You don’t have a choice."

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

#HI HELLO i'll be randomly reading these parts when i have time so im SORRY LINA !!! but i am here now #my knowledge of the 12 dancing princesses is very minimal btw so be warned i couldve missed a detail or a reference 😭😭#ANYWAY the beginning of this WAS SO CUTEGFHSDJFSDHFJSDF #LOOK AT THEM CRUSHING OVER ONE ANOTHER NOOO IM WEAK HEARTED OKAY #like actually their dynamic their relationship was SO CUTE its like im the one w a crush w the way im gushing over it #and i love the banter w chaeryeong and jisung teasing mc and chan #AND DUDE I FELT ITTTT I KNEW !!!! when the father started acting suspicious my marriage radar went off #KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP I COULD TELL and then when the hell kingdom people showed up i was like 🤨📝 aha mhm exactly #esp w the way that gross king was behaving he was def up to no good #AND WHATS W THE DAD ???? GET REMOVED #but yes anyway i love how you set this whole thing up im genuinely so so excited to resume reading the rest #as usual your writing is phenomenal lina and i missed it <33 #loved the way you described their emotions and the CONFLICT like theyre both upset by the fact that the other probs reciprocates and ;-;-;#⚠ hold on dont step on the shattered pieces of my heart fr ⚠#i just think its very interesting and cant wait to see how it all unfolds #ALSO YEAH I FORGOT BUT WHAT DID THE CRUSTY KING DO TO MC #the way u described him btw made me genuinely creeped out like EWEWEGEHGWJHEW jail !!! (to him)#he better not do anything istg 🤨 creep #furat's little library

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cussima · 6 months ago

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IM GONNA TALK ABOUT ITTTT

my first shift story time <3

(w pics lmao)

I have absolutely no idea how i woke up last night but I thought of my dr sp and i was sooo up to seeing him i decided i was going to shift.

and i did.

there was no method there was nothing 😭 i simply decided I'd be in a reality with him and i woke up in a university dorm after a morning nap

ᯓ ♡ i did realize one thing: every time i had tried to shift before i had been so concentrated on my body.

so i got up, i knew i had had a class before that and i was going to have another one soon. It was almost noon (checked on a clock) and i had another class fairly soon but i had 1 job: finding this man.

so i walked through the whole university looking for the head master's room (idk what they're called in english 😭) to find a list with all the student's names for that year and try to find his name (yk like psychos do) (under the reasoning that if he goes to the school then i can find him so yk just STALKING like a mad woman) (it was also that awkward time before the technology boom, a few printers but no proper computers like we have now so i figured most things would be saved on paper and I'd have to open every drawer and bla bla bla i was full on detective mode) but the head master's office wasn't empty 😭 (idk why i assumed it would be) so i very awkwardly asked one of the teachers there if i could see the list (after small talk and when she asked why i wanted to see it i had to be like "yeah.. i just want to check something really quick:)" and they agreed, which felt SO WRONG to me because isn't knowing that information like illegal nowadays idk) and when i was going into the office to look for it I saw my dr sp walk out another room and we made eye contact

it could be because i'm down bad but it was so intense (he has a very intense gaze actually lmao) and i just got the most violent butterflies in my stomach he was SO MUCH TALLER THAN ME and he had the cutest eyes and his hair was soso messy it was hilarious. I knew that we had seen each other on campus like that a lot, but we had never had a proper talk (i just knew) and after all that i had to PRETEND like i still had to check the list so i went into the damn information office and went through the papers super quickly and pretended like i had checked whatever i wanted to check

(me reading that goddamn list) after that i was pretty sure i was late to class but i hadn't shifted to go to class i had shifted to see my dr sp and i did so i just shifted back

ANYWAYS THAT'S IT

#shifting story #shifting success #shifting realities #reality shifter #desired reality #manifesting #law of assumption #master manifestor #loa success #shifting methods #shifting #reality shifting #successful #shifting community #master shifter #shifting motivation #shifting blog #shiftinconsciousness

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c0llisiion · 9 months ago

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ATTENTION — K.TH

★Pairing: kim Taehyung + f!reader

★Genre: smut

★: exes , kinda toxic ig , bigdickdom!tae , choking, slight exhibitionism , reader is lowkey bipolar , angry sex/make up sex (they just went through a breakup) , mirror sex , oral, slapping, creampie , unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!) name calling, degradation, kth is kinda mean — lmk if i missed any! ^^

★W/C: 2,435

A/N: HIIIIIIII!!!!!! so yes another kth fic :’) its been a while so that’s justified! This is actually one of my first fics i ever wrote nd i found it rotting in my notes so i decided to tweak it up and post :3 (the og was shit.) will finally be able to post more often <3 anyways enjoy! Hope you like itttt

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Loud music was blasting throughout the crowded club. It was a huge party, hosted by one of your closest friend. There were people dancing, drinking, and giving men lap dances. It was a wild one!

You were dancing hard with your girlfriends. Those few shots you took finally hit you.

You were approached by your friend, while having the time of your life "Hey, bae, there is someone you might like to see.." You stopped and focused on what she was saying "Who?" You inquired. She pointed out a man sitting in one of the booths. He was talking to another familiar man and didn't seem to notice you. You stood there, staring at the man in a suit with a few of his buttons undone. You were, honestly, in disbelief. This day is truly one for the history books.

"Taehyung..." You stood there wide-eyed. "Hell yeah, girly, I invited him for you and you only," she said with a smug smirk. "Go on, bae, get your tiger!" She nudged. "I-i-" you stammered. "come onnn ,, stop being a fucking pussy and go talk to him!!" She started shoving you in his direction. You stayed put, not letting her push you more. "Dude, for god's sake! It's going to be so awkward!" You turned around to face your clearly drunk friend. "Bitch, you were the one that was venting to me about how you wanted to see him almost every day since you broke up!" She countered. What she said was right. You were venting to her every day, nonstop, from the day you broke it off with him. "I-I had confidence that time..! But I don't think i will be able to show that same confidence .." Your friend narrowed her eyes at you. "PUSSY!" She shouted in your face. You both giggled it off before she spoke up. "Well if you are not comfortable yet, then it's fine. I heard that he already has a new girlfrien-" "what?" Your ears perked up. "Wdym what? Did you not hear? Apparently he is fucking that hot chick , aeri from back then; she had approached him two days after you broke up, and they have been dating ever since." You look back at the man clad in a blue suit with a white button up underneath before letting out an angry scoff, "What a bastard..."

"Its time to get that bastard back into your life," your friend winked at you.

"Heeeyyyy, Taehyung! How is the party going for you?" Your friend approached him, stumbling slightly. "It's going well! I'm having so much fun!" Taehyung said it with excitement. "Ouu, I'm glad to hear! Ykw, do you want to join us on the dance floor?" Your friend batted her eyelashes at him, baiting him into joining her. "haha imma pass!" " Cooommeee oooonnnn, it’s going to be fun, Taehyung" she begged for him to join her, and he eventually did after much persuasion. He joined the dance floor and was quickly hoarded by hot girls who definitely wanted to get laid by him. After a moment, his eyes landed on someone he knew. It was you. You were with another man, kissing, hands around his neck, and swaying your hips in a very sultry way. You broke off the kiss and glanced to your side. He was standing there. A woman was holding his face in her hands, trying to get him out of his trance. You could feel the rage that was radiating off of him. You smirked and dragged your mister to the bar. You let him buy you a few drinks before eventually letting him go.

You were drinking your third shot of tequila when he approached you. "It's funny to see you here." You turned around to see the tall figure of Taehyung looking down at you. You almost choked on the alcohol. "It's my best friend's birthday; of course I will be here, dumbass!" You tapped the glass on the counter, signaling for the bartender to pour you another. Taehyung walked over to the empty seat next to you. "So what's up?" You inquired while waiting. "Oh, nothing much; Daddy has been pressuring me to start staying stable." You snorted. " 'daddy' PFFFTTT" . Taehyung looked at you blankly. The bartender poured you a glass, and before you could down it all, Taehyung snatched the shot glass, drinking every last bit, and placed it on the counter. "Yeah 'daddy'” "Omg, you are literally so insufferable." You said it dramatically. "Idek how that aeri bitch is even with you," Taehyung shot up. "What aeri?" He said plainly like he had no idea what you were talking about. You looked at him in shock. "You are dating aeri right?" You asked for reassurance. He scoffed it off. " pff- you really think i would date a hoe like aeri? Never in a million years." He rolled his eyes and chuckled. " B-but .. f/n said you guys are fucking around..??" "That is true, though," your face drowned. "Like, we only hooked up once, and you know what? She is not the person she says she is. One of the worst fuckings I have ever done," you giggled. "Who was your best?" You asked him randomly. "You." Your cheeks turned pink almost immediately. You could feel him looking at you. Eyeing your entire body. "You look good today," he complimented you. "Don't I always look good?" You joked. He chuckled, looking down. You both were staring at each other with love and lust. "I miss you" had accidentally slipped your mouth. Curse you for drinking too much! You quickly covered your mouth in disbelief at what just came out. "What?" He looked at you. "Ah ah nothing, nevermind!!" You brushed it off as quickly as you could. He looked at you with his eyebrow quirked up. "Aha i think i gotta go... f/n is calling me haha". There was a slight stutter in your speech. You got up, and before you could leave the bar, he grabbed you by your wrist, turned you around, and kissed you. You were shocked. Your hands were on his chest while he kissed you with passion. "I missed you too, baby.." The bomb dropped. Your mind went blank. "But tae.." "Please, baby, take me back. I promise to change this time. I just really need you. I don't want anyone else." You looked at him with guilt. But this was the same statement he would always give. 'i will change’ 'I will do better' 'take me back'. You were unsure of what to feel. All these months, you missed him, and now?

"Tae you know we can't. You always say this but you never change. Just cut the act off." He let go of your waist. "I miss you, baby. I really do. And im sorry for all-" "shush. I don't want to hear another apology. You are never sorry." As much as you love and miss Taehyung. His personality is the biggest turn off. He had broken your trust multiple times, and whenever you would break up, he would come up with the same shit, and you were there to accept his lame apologies. But not this time. You took some time to think about it, and you came to the conclusion that it was best for you not to take him back.

"Have a goodnight." You said it sternly before turning away. "You are really going to leave me, huh?" Taehyung started following you. "I left you months ago, Taehyung." His gaze went from soft to the familiar, mean one. "You said you missed me!" He pulled you by your arm, turning you back around to face him. "It's for the better! For both of us! You know we are never going to work out!" You countered. "Oh yeah, for the 'better' , I know you will come right back to me. Quit acting, y/n. As soon as my dick enters your desperate cunt, you will be with me once again like the slut you are." His hands went around your waist once again. Mere inches separate you both. Whatever he said was true. You break up. Meet up a few weeks or days later. Fuck, and then back together. The same cycle over and over again. You couldn't get enough of him. “Let’s not play fool again.” He said in a manipulative tone. You were resisting his manipulation, but you gave in. Your lips smashed into his aggressively. He chuckled at your instinct. "Yeah, that's what I fucking thought." He said it in between the kiss.

He rushed you into the club washroom and locked the door. There was absolute rage radiating off of you guys. Kissing harshly and not letting each other go. He made you sit on the counter and grabbed you by your jaw, breaking the intense kiss. Your lips were already swollen. "How many dicks have been in this cunt?" He said,tauntingly. You looked at him with your drunken eyes. "I will make sure no one gets this. It's mine. Got it?" You nodded. He let go of your jaw and dropped to his knees. He spread your legs open and started touching your wet pussy. His fingers circled your clothed entrance. A sticky mixture of your arousal coated his fingertips. "Always wet for me. Goodgirl." he grabbed you by your waist before smashing his face into your heat and started eating you out with your lace panties on. The pleasure was too much. You threw your head back and let out a pornographic moan. He was so good at eating you out to the point that it's enough to come undone.

You tugged on his black locks. Eyes swelling up with tears and drool already dripping down from the sides of your mouth. He was lapping at your cunt like a starved man. “So good.. so fucking good…” he nudged his face closer into your sex. Breathing in your arousal. Your thighs clamped around his head, and let out a choked-out moan as he bit down on your poor clit. “T-tae..! ‘S too much!!” Taehyung found pleasure in your pleas and cries. He pulled away and stared up at you. His chin glistened with his spit and your juices, running down his neck.

He got up and was quick to capture your lips in his mouth. His tongue swirled around the inside of your mouth, and you could taste yourself. Large hands pushed your dress further up your body; a loud snap was heard as he ripped your thin panties. You grab onto his shoulders as you feel his long, cold fingers rubbing your throbbing clit. You gasped for air as he flicked your nub. Your hands roamed all over his body, helping him take off his Celine suit jacket. Your hands went lower before you stopped at his belt buckle. “Put it in already… please … “ you mumbled into the kiss. Taehyung let out a dark chuckle; his lips traveled down your neck. You felt something prod into your sopping hole. His large tip slipped through your folds easily. You gasp as he pushes himself further into you. His hands tightly held onto your hips as he eased his way into your gummy walls. He hunched over after he fully pushed himself into you. Your cunny clenched around his big length as he started thrusting. Heavy breaths getting louder with each increase in pace. “Gon’ fuck you so good..the entire club will hear us.”

-fwap! Fwap! fwap!- loud sounds of your ass slapping against his hips echoed through the restroom. Taehyung had you facing the mirror. A hand wrapped tightly around your hair, pulling your head back. “See how well you take my cock..! Haah- so fucking good. Pussy sucking me in so good.” He whispered in your ear before biting it. “Ngh- fuck Taehyung feels so g-good…!” You held onto the edge of the counter for dear life as Taehyung pounded into you from behind. Your makeup ran down your face as his thrusts had you tearing up and seeing stars. “Mmm.. haa-“ slap. “Keep your eyes on the mirror while I fuck you. Understand?” You nodded at his words. Your eyes were struggling to stay open, and your head felt heavy. “Words, doll.” He grabbed your jaws and brought his face closer to yours, making you look at him as he continued giving you harsh thrusts. Your body jerking forward at each. The hand on your clit pinching the sensitive nub “ngh- fuck! I u-understand…” a devilish smirk formed on his perfect face. He was fucking you into tomorrow. His long, thick dick abused your soft plush walls over and over again. Red angry tip bruising your cervix. Your cream coated his entire length, and your arousal ran down his balls and your thighs. “Gonna c-cum.. tae- gon’-“ His fingers worked on your clit quickly. Tugging, pinching, and drawing rough circles all to help you reach your high. “Cum all over me.. doll.” And with that, you gushed around his length. “Fuck!!” Spurts of your cum spilled from the sides of your abused hole. Taehyung continued fucking you through your orgasm. “Do you want my cum inside you- haaah… fuck doll squeezing me so good..!” He got cut off as you spasmed around him. You nod weakly at his words. Picking your head up to look at him through the mirror, He brought his face closer to your ears. “Say it. Say you want my cum in you.” He growled in your ears. Your eyes filled up with tears. “I wan’ it…” “Want what? I want to hear you say it.” You bite down on your lip as you feel his fingers draw rough circles on your overstimulated clit again. “ i wan’ -ngh- i want your cum.. Taehyung. i wan’ your cum in me… please.” Your voice was feeble. Taehyung groaned in satisfaction. “Goodgirl. I like it when you beg.” His hips quickly gained their pace and had you once again feeling full. You let out a choked out scream as you felt Taehyung fill you up. Taehyung moaned loudly as his balls drained all the cum into your plush walls. He dropped his head in between your neck and shoulders as he slowly came down from his high. Leaving soft, wet kisses on the spot.

He lifted his head up and looked at you before smiling. His hands caressed your red ass. He pulled out, and a stream of yours and his mixed arousal dripped down your thighs. “You're gonna stay with me forever.”

A/N: thank you for reading! I will be writing inboxes so make sure to send in :3 🎀

#౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ yun’s silly fics #bts #bts smut #taehyung smut #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts army #bts fanfic #bts headcanons #bts scenarios #taehyung headcanons #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x oc #taehyung scenarios #bts taehyung #taehyung #bts v #v smut

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flowerxbunnie · 1 year ago

Note

hiyaaaa :)))

request : y/n and matt are friends, they both have craaaazzyyy sexual tension that they’ve been denying. one night after finally coming to terms w it, they play strip poker to see who caves first. (idc who caves first, bc ik id be folding like origami!!) then they get reallll nasty and YOU MUST include what we talked ab 😈😈 i’m begging on my knees, i need that witchcraft

Strip For Me

Matt x Fem reader

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT. Friends to lovers, strip poker, spit, etc etc etc

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

super long! like 5000 words oops

Matt’s POV

“UNO!” Chris yells, making all of us jump in our chairs. “MATT DIDN’T CALL IT!”

I huff as I throw my card onto the table, losing yet another game of Uno against Y/n, Nick, and Chris.

“Poor Matty, you literally always forget to call it. It’s too easy.” Y/n laughs, throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes shut.

Game night never fails to piss me off. Chris is too competitive, I swear Nick cheats and changes rules without telling anyone, and Y/n thinks it’s so funny when I lose.

“You better watch it,” I tease, glaring at her from across the table.

“Oh yeah, or what?” she bites back while narrowing her eyes.

Nick and Chris exchange looks and then look between the two of us. I stand up and make my way around to her chair, pulling it out from under the table.

“What are you doing??” she drops her cards and pulls her legs to her chest, interlocking her fingers around them so she’s curled into a ball.

I slip an arm around her thighs and the other around her back and pick her up. Her grip breaks and she’s fighting and thrashing while calling me every name under the sun. I can’t contain my laughter as I carry her to the couch, throwing her down onto a pile of pillows and blankets.

“MATTHEW NO!” she kicks and screams, already knowing what’s coming.

“You asked for it,” I chuckle out and start tickling her stomach.

Her gorgeous giggle echoes through the room and soon enough all four of us are gasping for air in a fit of laughter.

“Matt PLEASE…. ple- MATT!!” she can barely get her words out, her eyes watering and her arms clutched over her stomach.

“You think that’s gonna stop me?” I grab her hands and sit in a straddle position over her legs, pinning her arms above her head with one of my hands.

“Nick, get your fucking brother!” she yells as she tries to wiggle out from under my grasp.

“I have no involvement in this,” Nick says throwing his hands up and laughing.

“Don’t even ask me, I’m not getting caught in a tickle fight,” Chris says before gathering all the cards and shuffling them.

I do my best evil smile down at her before bringing my free hand to hover just between her armpit and ribcage, her most ticklish spot, and wiggling my fingers right above her skin.

“Should I do itttt?” I say in a singsong voice, inching my hand closer and closer.

“Pleaseeee don’t! Matt I’m begging!” She whines, her eyes flicking up to look at me through her lashes.

She gives up her squirming and fighting and just bats her eyes at me. It feels like time stopped. I’m sitting on top of my best friend, arms pinned above her head with those eyes that scream “please fuck me.”

Maybe the feelings aren’t as mutual as I think, but if I was given the opportunity I would jump on her so fucking fast. There’s a tension when we’re around each other that I can almost feel.

“Matt! Get off of me dickhead!” She slaps my arm and snaps me out of whatever trance I was in.

“Next time keep your little remarks to yourself, I win more than you do anyway.” I laugh as I stand up and walk back to my spot at the table.

“That’s just objectively wrong.” She says as she pulls herself up and follows behind me before pulling her chair back up to the table.

“Gotta agree with Y/n. Matt’s just a sore loser.” Nick says as he stands up and stretches his arms above his head. “I’m tired as fuck, I’m going to sleep. Please don’t break anything down here.” He begs as he walks off to his room.

“I’ll play a couple more and then I’m gonna hit the hay too,” Chris yawns as he deals out the next round of cards.

I grab my stack and look up to see Y/n’s gaze already locked onto mine wearing a look I can’t quite read. Just as quickly as our eyes lock she looks back down like nothing happened.

Y/n’s POV

“Goodniiiight!” I yell out to Chris as he walks off to his room.

He throws his hand up in a wave without turning back and I wait until I hear his door shut. I turn back to look at Matt in his spot across the table, his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong, someone doesn’t know how to take a loss?” I ask in a mockingly sweet voice.

“It’s not even fucking fair, you guys cheat and then act like I’m sooo bad at the game.” He drops his hands and looks up at me.

He’s so fucking hot when he’s all worked up and angry, and it’s so easy to push his buttons. I still can’t seem to shake the weird feeling I got after he threw me on the couch earlier. He literally picked me up like I weighed nothing. And looking up at him while his chain dangled over my face made my stomach twist into knots. I’ve always thought Matt was attractive, it’s hard not to. I swear I even catch him looking at me sometimes. But he’s my best friend and I can’t jeopardize that, who knows if he even feels the same? For all I know he could think of me like a sister and I’m just overthinking everything.

But for some reason I decide to keep pushing him tonight.

“Maybe you’re just not good? It’s okay to admit it.” I shrug and start putting all the cards back into the box.

His hands hit the table and when I look up at him his face is filled with annoyance.

“I can literally beat you at any other game.”

“I doubt it Matty. It’s okay though!” I smile and try to hold in my laughter.

He stays silent for a good 30 seconds while I take the box of cards back to the bookshelf. When I come back to the table to grab my phone he stands up and leans onto the table, the muscles in his arms flexing underneath the light above us.

“What about poker? You know how to play?” He asks, his voice low and raspy.

“Do you know who you’re talking to? Of course I know how to play,” I answer, sitting back in my seat instead of retreating upstairs like I had planned. “It wouldn’t even be fair to you honestly.”

He scoffs, turning around to go to the bookshelf. He moves a few items around before grabbing a deck of playing cards and walks back to the table. He tosses the box down and it slides across the table before it stops in front of me.

“I think I’m pretty good too,” he starts, sitting in his chair and leaning back, “I mean I can think of a few things that would make it worth playing..”

My heart jumps in my chest because I know exactly what he’s going to say.

“Have you ever played strip poker?”

I try to keep my cool but I can feel my cheeks burning at the thought of undressing in front of Matt.

“No.. not yet anyway,” I try to answer back as nonchalant as possible, like he has no effect on me.

“So you’re in? You can say no if you want.” His voice softens a bit, but the look in his eyes remains just as dark as before.

“Are you dealing the cards or am I?” I huff as I grab the box and rip it open.

A smirk spreads across his face as he nods his head in my direction. I shuffle the cards and try to keep my hands as steady as possible but they’re definitely shaking. I deal us five cards each and sit the deck in the middle of the table between us.

We both pick up our cards and look over them. I already have a pair of 5’s and an ace, so I lay down the other two and draw two from the deck. Matt lays one card down and draws one. I look up from my hand to see Matt smirking, his slender fingers tapping against the edge of his cards.

“3.. 2.. 1..” He speaks slowly.

We both lay our cards down; I have my pair of 5’s and ended up getting a pair of aces. Matt has four 8’s. Fuck.

“Go ahead.” He sits back in his chair and bites the inside of his cheek with a grin.

I stand up and decide to tease just a little bit. I run my hands down my sides and grab at the hem of my sweatshirt, pulling it up ever so slightly to show the skin of my stomach. His eyes widen and watch my every move.

“Uh, y-you don’t have to start with your shirt,” he says while readjusting in his chair.

“I know. But I want to..” I say in a seductive voice while slowly pulling my shirt up.

I bring it all the way over my head and toss it revealing the tank top I have on underneath before I sit back down giggling.

He relaxes and I hear him let out a breath before grabbing the cards and shuffling them. “I’ll deal this hand.”

After he deals five cards each and we go through the process of throwing some out and redrawing, we lay down the next set. Matt has nothing, which shocks me because he really didn’t seem too stressed. I have a pair of queens.

“Your turnnnn.” I say with a big grin.

He reaches under the table and comes back up with his socks, tossing them somewhere off into the living room.

“Not fair,” I pout, bringing the cards into a pile.

“Socks are clothes, no?” He chuckles and pushes his hair out of his face.

We go through the next few rounds stripping off whatever we could that didn’t feel too risky. Rings, bracelets, watches. We both have nothing left to take off besides the big hitters. I’m dealing the next hand and I say a silent prayer to myself that Matt takes the first big loss.

I have a 5, 6, jack, 8, and 9. I decide I want to risk throwing the jack away to try for a straight. Matt tosses three of his and I try to gauge his reaction. Again, nothing at all but a blank stare. I hope I’m doing just as well with my poker face.

We both lay our cards out. I didn’t end up getting the straight, but I drew a king. Matt doesn’t have anything either so we’re forced to go for who has the highest card.

“I have a queen! Get to it,” he says smugly while interlocking his fingers behind his head and sitting back.

I almost open my mouth to tell him that a king is worth more than a queen, but the anticipation is getting to be too much for me. Watching him as he stares at me from across the table, seeing his long fingers gripping his cards, his smirks, his hair falling over his eyes as he concentrates on his next move. It’s been doing something to me, and I’ve had a heat growing between my thighs for a while now. Why not let him think he won this one and speed things up a bit?

“Damn it!” I say in the most convincing voice of annoyance that I could muster.

I stand up from my seat and watch as his eyes follow along, glazed over and half lidded. I hook my fingers into the elastic band of my sweatpants and slowly pull them to the floor, my light purple lace underwear now on full display. I turn around on purpose and toss my pants over the back of the couch, bouncing on my feet a little to make my ass jiggle. I hear him let out a breath and look over at him as he sits up straighter in his chair.

“Nice panties.” he says in a flat voice, trying to play cool as if I can’t see the half chub in his jeans.

“Thanks.” I reciprocate his energy and sit back down, the cold metal against my legs giving me chills.

We go through the motions again, eyeing each other for any signs of hesitation before laying our next set down. I have a full house, three 4’s and two aces. Matt has a pair of 7’s.

He huffs and scoots his chair back, starting to pull up his shirt.

“Uh uh! Stand up, it’s part of the rules,” I tease.

“You and Nick with your random rule changes.” He shakes his head but stands anyway, lifting his shirt over his head.

His toned stomach flexes as he throws it. I’ve seen him shirtless a million times. I’ve been to the pool with them, spent days at the beach- hell, even just him walking around the house. But with all the tension in the room I can’t help but stare a little harder. I move my eyes down to his happy trail and I have to bite my lip as I feel myself getting wet at the sight of him. He sits back down and shoots a knowing grin my way while shuffling the cards again.

The next round is played out and we’re getting ready to show our sets. I already know I’m fucked because I have absolutely nothing, but I really don’t care about the game at this point. We both lay out our cards and peer across the table.

Matt has a set of four. He keeps his head down and looks up at me through his brows, his bottom lip between his teeth.

I stand up and grab a strap from my tank top, slipping it down my shoulder. I hold eye contact and I swear I can see his pupils dilating and constricting like crazy. I grab the other strap and slip it down my other shoulder, my own fingertips giving me goosebumps with how slow I’m going in order to tease him. I pull them both back up and slide my hands down to the hem, pulling it up my abdomen slowly. His eyes dart up my body and he adjusts himself in his pants. I swear I could become addicted to the way his eyes soak me in.

My heart is nearly beating out of my chest as I pull the fabric over my breasts, making sure to hold it tight against me so they bounce as they fall out. I pull it the rest of the way over my head and let it fall to the floor before moving back to my seat.

“Holy shit, I… I thought you were wearing a bra,” he stutters out, “not that I’m complaining because… I just thought the game would.. holy fuck they’re perfe-”

“Hmm, thanks Matthew.” I say cutting him off.

He gulps and nods before wiggling in his seat. He grabs the deck and starts to shuffle them, cards flying out every now and again and his cheeks burning a bright red color. I can’t help but grow even wetter watching the effect I have on him just from taking my top off.

He gets the cards situated and starts dealing them out, his eyes flicking up to my chest every now and again as he tries to keep his focus. I pick up my hand and somehow I have six cards. I look over and he has four. I let out a soft giggle and hold my cards up.

“We’re supposed to have 5 each, Matty.”

“Oh shit. Sorry.”

He adds another card to his hand and I grab one of mine to hand back to him. My fingers brush against his and I swear my entire body pulses.

He suddenly sits his cards down and pushes himself to his feet, his chair making a scratching sound across the floor as it pushes back. He runs his fingers along the table as he makes his way to my side. He stands next to me and I crane my neck up to look at him, his eyes full of hunger.

“How about we call off the game?” He asks in a whisper as his hand reaches up to swipe a thumb across my bottom lip. “I can’t concentrate with you sitting here like this across from me.”

I gasp as the tip of his thumb enters my mouth, pressing down on my tongue before pulling it back out.

“Thought you’d never ask,” I whisper back, turning towards him as I stand up, running my hands up his chest along the way.

I glide my hands over his collarbones before wrapping my arms around his neck, loosely intertwining my fingers behind his head. His fingertips softly graze my waist, my skin on fire under his touch. He brings his forehead down to meet mine, our eyes locked on one another as we breathe in sync.

“I need to hear you say it.” he whispers as his hands settle on my hips.

“Say what, Matthew?”

“That you’re okay with this. That you want it as much as I do.”

“I want it Matt, I have for a long time.”

His breath shudders and he pulls me closer, his erection throbbing against my thigh. He disconnects our foreheads, pulling back to look from my eyes to my lips and back up.

“I need you in my room,” he breathes out before looping his arms around my thighs and picking me up. His hands are teasingly close to my ass as he walks to his room, shutting and locking the door with one hand before letting me down in front of his bed.

Without warning his hands are gripping my face and he slams his lips against mine. Everything else ceases to exist as our tongues swirl together, our bodies so close together we almost feel like one person. His hands slide down from my face to my jaw, then to my throat causing me to let a moan escape into his lips. He hums in response and adds a little pressure, and my knees feel like they could buckle and give up on me. This feels so naughty, my best friend touching me in all the places I’ve wanted him to for so long.

I pull away from the kiss and drop to my knees in front of him, placing kisses down the hot skin of his stomach. I lick a stripe up his happy trail and his eyes bore into me as I undo his button and zipper. I slide his jeans down and they pool around his ankles before he kicks them off. I run my nails up and down his thighs, watching as his body reacts and his dick twitches under the fabric of his boxers. I trail my hands up, running my palm across his hard length before wrapping my hand around it and hearing him sigh my name under his breath.

His eyes are blown out with need, the blue irises barely visible. He reaches down and places his hand over my own, tightening my grip around his cock and moving my hand back and forth.

“You drive me fucking crazy, Y/n.” He groans and starts rocking his hips against my hand.

“Yeah? Do something about it then.” I say and move my other hand to start pulling his boxers down.

He lets out a moan at my words, throwing his head back a bit as his cock springs up in front of my face.

He grips my chin and tilts my head up, bucking his hips forward so his length rubs across my face. I stick my tongue out as he brings it back down, feeling the veins that run all the way to his tip. I open my mouth to take only his head in, sucking lightly and keeping my head still. I grip my hand around his base and pull him back out of my mouth, kitten licking the underside of his head, eliciting a shaky breath from him as he brings his hands to wrap into my hair.

“Such a fucking tease,” he draws out.

I just smile and move my tongue all the way to the base and flatten my tongue, licking all the way up and kissing the his tip. I continue teasing him for a minute or two, loving the beautiful sounds that fall past his lips. I can tell he wanted nothing more than to shove his dick down my throat, but Matt is too much of a gentleman for that.

I take his entire length into my mouth, his head touching my uvula and making me gag around him. He sucks in sharply and his fingers tighten around the roots of my hair. I keep going, bobbing my head back and forth and hollowing my cheeks around him. He lightly thrusts into my mouth, matching my speed. His jaw hangs slack and he starts panting as his dick becomes incredibly hard, twitching and throbbing in my mouth. He pulls my head back and my mouth makes a popping sound around his head.

“Fuck, almost made me finish in your mouth baby. You just look so pretty with your lips wrapped around me.” he says as he strokes my hair.

He grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet, bringing his hands to my panties and pulling at them, almost a silent way of saying he needs them off. I help him get them down and he picks me up, his dick brushing against my core in the process which sends sparks through my body. He tosses me onto his bed, standing over me and taking in the sight like he’s the first man that discovered fire.

“So beautiful.” He whispers as he crawls up the bed over me, leaving kisses up both my legs and stomach, all the way up to my breasts. “Always knew you had perfect tits.”

He places a wet, warm kiss on each nipple, watching as they harden up from the stimulation. He brings his tongue to my left one and flicks it up and down and I can’t help but let out a little whine. He circles his tongue around it and looks up at me before sucking on it softly. He moves his attention to the other one and repeats his actions, but my pussy is begging for his mouth to be there instead.

“Matt, please…” I whimper out, grabbing his head and pushing down so he’ll get the hint.

“Please what?” He smirks, softly nipping and licking at the skin on my ribcage.

“N-need to feel your face between my legs,” I blush. It feels so strange to finally be able to say these things out loud.

He scoots down the bed and settles between my legs, spreading them apart and kissing his way from my knee to my upper thigh.

“So wet for your best friend, you dirty girl.” He says before placing a kiss onto my clit, my body jolting and a soft moan escaping my lips.

His narrows his tongue and runs it up and down my folds lightly before flattening it out and adding pressure, licking from the bottom to the top.

“Such a little slut letting me taste you like this. It’s so wrong..” he trails off before continuing his actions.

His words twist my stomach into knots. He’s right, I know deep down that it’s so wrong to be doing this with my best friend while his brothers are asleep in the house. But it feels so fucking good, so right.

I rake my fingers through his hair and push it back off his forehead, just taking in the sight of him working to please me. He dips down a little and sticks his tongue into my entrance, swirling it in circles as I start to clench around him.

“F-fuck.. feels so good,” I moan and buck my hips towards him, tightening my grip in his hair and pushing his tongue deeper into me.

He hums and flicks his tongue around making sure to touch every single spot he can get. He brings his thumb to my clit and sticks the rough pad of it against me, applying pressure and rubbing delicious circles.

Before I know it I am coming undone on Matt’s face, my orgasm ripping through my body unexpectedly. I cry out his name as my legs shake and tighten around his head. I’m pulling on his hair hard enough for him to let out a groan of pain, but he continues and lets me ride out my high, pulling back and breathing heavily after I relax onto the bed.

He moves up and hovers above me, his face glistening with the evidence of my orgasm. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes still dark and needy.

“You feel better now, princess? Got to cum all over your best friend’s face. God, you’re such a bad girl.”

“Mmm, don’t act like you didn’t want it just as bad as me, Matty.” I say between lazy kisses, tasting myself on his lips.

“Never said I didn’t, sweetheart.”

He grabs my legs and pushes them up, hooking both of them around his shoulders. He runs his tip through my folds, coating himself in my juices that have mixed with his saliva. His breath shudders as he pushes in slowly, not because he wants to, but because he’s so big that I’m having trouble taking him.

“So fucking tight,” he groans, easing in millimeters at a time.

“F-fuck Matt, I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to take it all.” I wince as he stretches me out.

“You will. Give it time baby. I’ll make it fit.”

He leans his head down and lets a string of spit fall onto my clit, dripping down and settling where we meet. He pulls back out only to push in further, and my stomach tenses up at the pain. He shoots me a sympathetic look, but it only lasts a second before his eyes get that hungry look again and he’s smirking down at me.

“Poor girl, I just know you’re never gonna be able to find anyone who can make you feel like I’m about to.”

Without warning he pushes all the way in, pain and pleasure coursing through my body as he steadily begins pumping in and out. His hands grip my legs and I bring mine to his chest, clawing and scratching instinctively to relieve some of the pain.

“M-matt, fuck..” I cry out, my eyes rolling back as he pounds into me so deep I swear I can feel him in my stomach.

“Look at that pretty face, all for me.” He praises.

The pain slowly starts subsiding, dopamine flooding my bloodstream as my body starts to feel intense amounts of pleasure. I’m a mess, eyes watering and my nails leaving him bloody. It feels animalistic, we’re fucking as if it’s all we know to do.

“Open your mouth.” He growls, his entire demeanor dark and sadistic.

I oblige, opening my mouth and sticking my tongue out. He spits onto it and moves a hand to my chin, closing it and holding it shut.

“Swallow it.”

I do as I’m told and he slaps my cheek lightly, moving his hand back to my leg and gripping with white knuckles.

My body is overwhelmed with all the sensations, my head is swimming and my breathing is rapid. I feel the same feeling igniting in my stomach, so close to the edge I can taste it.

He pulls out suddenly, grabbing his cock and jerking it with his head thrown back before he releases his hot cum onto my pussy.

“Touch yourself with it,” he demands, slinging my legs apart and onto the bed.

I immediately bring my hand down to my clit without second thought, using two fingers to rub back and forth. I bring my other hand and insert a finger into my entrance, pushing his own release into myself. He watches intently as I use his cum as lubrication to send myself toppling over the edge. My legs shake and my back arches, my orgasm taking control and waves of pleasure crashing over and over until my energy is spent.

He falls down on top of me, his head on my chest as we catch our breath together. I can feel my pulse from head to toe, my heart beating like crazy along with his own.

•••

I open my eyes and the sun is shining through the blinds casting a beam directly on my face. I stretch a little and look over and smile as I see Matt tucked underneath the comforter beside me.

I don’t remember anything after we fucked last night, so I guess we passed out.

I open my phone to check for notifications, my heart dropping as I open the group chat between myself and the triplets.

Nick: 1 attachment

Nick: What is this…?!

I click the photo and my eyes widen. It’s an overview of the living area, clothes and jewelry strewn about with a messy set of cards on the table.

I lock my phone and stuff it under my pillow quickly, trying to convince myself I never saw it.

I flip over and cuddle up to Matt, throwing my arm over his stomach and laying my head on his chest.

We can deal with all that later.

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