#hyungwon packs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iibonniee · 7 months ago

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Self Care

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem receiving),

Rating: R

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: After almost what feels like weeks of non-stop studying and taking finals, Y/N finally decides to invest in what everyone calls "self-care”. Little did she know her dearest best friend would show her his idea of self care.

Masterlist

The only thing that sat heavily on her mind was self-care. After weeks of almost back-to-back studying for finals, she knew she’d probably fail from procrastination alone; her body felt great, melting into her pleasantly soft couch. She knew she would need to get up if she wanted to do something of that nature called self-care. Still, the sofa had been calling her name after she blew it off one too many times in favor of her office chair and a dim light that hardly helped her focus on the text from the books.

After the finals, she enjoyed some time with friends, laughing about “how easy that final was.” She, of course, lied straight through her teeth to fit in with her laughing and slightly intoxicated friends. That final was absolute hell, and if she could, she’d totally find the professor’s house and tell them they should quit their jobs simply because what the fuck? Never mind the fact that she blew off all her friends in favor of studying.

Her lips pursed, remembering how her dearest friend Minhyuk had messaged her just hours ago. Instead of responding, she simply swiped the notification away for the fifth time that day. What could she say? Those finals tore through her, and now the simple fact of being around any single person deeply disturbed her. But thinking about practically blowing the man off, even with a schedule more packed than her, made her feel slightly terrible.

Her predicament was this: she was sitting – laying – very comfortably while her phone was peacefully resting on the coffee table just inches from her. She could, in theory, simply reach out for the phone and message him back. Surely, he would only lay into her a bit because “Best friends don’t leave each other on delivered for more than an hour. You know I break the rules just to message you back.”

Scratch that; he totally would lay into her.

The puff she let out was more than audible, and she swore the creaking in her bones was just as loud. Studying with work should be considered a sport. Her phone was cool to the touch, and as she had guessed, the male in question had sent her just about 5 messages for almost every single hour that had passed.

Reading his messages over, she couldn’t help but laugh loudly, thinking about the main vocalist tripping. At how she knew he’d tear the duo a new one just for bringing it up almost every couple minutes, thinking it was the funniest thing to date. The guilt was starting to eat at her for simply ignoring him.

09:16 a.m.: Y/N: wish me luck on my final 🤞 professor choi said it would be difficult as hell (not his exact words, but he was basically saying just that), so if i don’t ace this, blame my procrastination

09:17 a.m.: Minhyuk: i can just picture your face now, sweating and pulling that super weird and questionable face you do whenever you’re thinking too hard 😂

10:46 a.m.: Minhyuk: i purposely waited more than an hour. how did you do?

11:28 a.m.: Minhyuk: did you procrastinate so hard you died?

12.33 p.m.: Minhyuk: kihyun tripped down the stairs. me and hyungwon thought it was hilarious. imagine you messaged me back, and you could be laughing about it instead of me and him. you should be jealous of hyungwon

2:40 p.m. Minhyuk: earth to y/n?? i’m missing you! this is important

5:32 p.m. Minhyuk: i can’t believe procrastination took my best friend like this

The time was just shy of 8. She knew if he checked, he’d see she had read his messages and begin to think of a well-worded 5 paragraph essay as to why what she did was absolutely fucking rude. Deciding that rather than dealing with the bullet, she would try to avoid it.

7:56 p.m.: Y/N: don’t hate me…

7:56 p.m.: Y/N: i may have gotten dragged out with some friends from class to get “celebratory drinks”. believe me, i was going to message you back 🤗

She watched the message go from “delivered” to read in seconds. Her heart felt like a drum against her ribcage. Her eyes were glued to the screen like fresh glue. Like a child ready for her parents scolding, she waited with bated breath for his reply. The silence that stretched on was suffocating, the seconds ticking by like hours in her mind. She mentally composed a hundred excuses, each more dramatic and apologetic than the last, the nails of her free hand digging into the palm as she braced herself for the inevitable.

7:58 p.m.: Minhyuk: dragged out, huh? guess those drinks were more important than letting me know you’re alive

The words stung like salt on an open wound, a sharp contrast to his usual playful banter. She could practically hear his voice in the text, tinged with annoyance that didn’t quite mask the concern behind it. She cursed at her screen, mentally chastising herself for her thoughtlessness.

7:58 p.m.: Y/N: i’m so sorry minhyuk, today was a mess and i lost track of time. i didn’t mean to worry you or be rude

Her fingers hesitated over the send button before she finally pressed it, releasing a sigh that did nothing to ease the tension from her shoulders. She dared not to look away from the conversation, the panic turning her stomach into knots.

The dots appeared and disappeared, a sure sign he was typing, re-typing, his response proving he too was unsure of what to say. The wait was agonizing, her anticipation painted with shades of regret and anxiety. It was the kind of suspense that could only come from caring too much about someone’s opinion, about someone’s feelings.

8:00 p.m.: Minhyuk: you’re lucky i care enough not to stay mad at you. don’t do this again y/n, it’s not just me, okay? we all worry.

Reading his response, a mixture of relief and guilt washed over her. Relief that he hadn’t completely unleashed his frustration on her, and guilt that she had caused him to worry in the first place. The knots in her stomach began to loosen, albeit slowly, as a crescent of gratitude rose amid the chaos of her emotions.

8:00 p.m.: Minhyuk: how did you do on the test?

8:01 p.m.: Y/N: i think i passed? if i don’t pass, i’m going to my professor’s house and bitching him out. but since it’s all done now, i’ve been thinking about giving myself some self-care

8:02 p.m.: Minhyuk: like all those stupid videos you see?

Her thumbs hovered over the phone’s keyboard, the blue light casting ghostly shadows on her fingers. She drew in a breath as if about to dive underwater, aware that admitting her struggles to Minhyuk felt akin to exposing a vulnerability she often kept veiled.

8:03 p.m.: Y/N: yeah, something like that. finals really did a number on me. my shoulders are up to my ears in tension. could really use one of those self-care days.

She sent the message out into the void between them, a digital confession that carried more weight than the characters it was comprised of. Her phone was a lifeline, a barrier, and a bridge all at once. Her screen flickered with the indication that he was replying, and she felt her pulse escalate, the anticipation tantamount to the moments before a storm broke.

The typing indicator blinked. Then.. stopped. She couldn’t help the frown that crept onto her lips. Were her problems too trivial? Too human for the idol facade he often wore?

But then, almost teasingly, the typing resumed. Her heart danced to the rhythm of his unseen keystrokes, a delicate waltz of hope and anxiety.

8:05 p.m.: Minhyuk: i could come over? offer you some... exclusive minhyuk-brand self-care tips.

The message was light-hearted, a classic Minhyuk approach to her distress – humor laced with the promise of comfort. She couldn’t help the small smile that broke through, even as a blush warmed her cheeks.

8:06 p.m.: Y/N: oh? and what kind of self-care tips are those?

The faintest feeling of daring bubbled inside her. To flirt with the boundaries of their rapport seemed reckless, yet the adrenaline of it was intoxicating. Minhyuk’s reply didn’t come instantly this time, and the silence stretched just enough to fan the flames of her curiosity.

8:09 p.m.: Minhyuk: i could make you cum. i heard that’s a great way of relaxing and relieving tension.

The heat spread across her face way too fast for her liking. She knew Minhyuk. The man was often brutal when speaking honestly. Still, behind that brutal honesty, he was often gentle, a softness that he reserved for the quieter moments between them. It was that duality that had always drawn her to him, that fine line he walked between audacity and tenderness.

Y/N stared at the screen, the words blurring as her heart hammered. Was he serious? There was no way to gauge the sincerity of his tone through text. Still, a part of her, perhaps secretly hoping for a bit more than friendly banter, conjured up a thrilling image of him following through. In front of her, eating her out to relieve her stress. She swore he had talked about it before. Something about how Hoseok helped someone out and not in a work-friendly manner. Had he meant the same way?

She was about to type a response, her fingertips shaky with a mix of nerves and anticipation, when a new message popped up.

8:12 p.m.: Minhyuk: unless... you’re already thinking about it?

The playful tease was evident even through the digital text, and she stiffened, caught utterly off guard. Yes, she was thinking about it, but the fact that he could call her out so accurately sent a jolt through her. Her pulse raced, the mixture of embarrassment and excitement causing a delicious tension within her. She found herself at a crossroads of confusion and desire. Trying to regain some semblance of control over the situation, she decided to play along, if only to see where this would go.

8:12 p.m.: Y/N: idk, is that what you recommend to all your friends when they’re stressed?

Her response was nonchalant, an attempt to mirror his teasing while her mind whirred with the possibilities. She waited, breath held, for his answer, utterly unaware of how this conversation might change everything.

8:12 p.m.: Minhyuk: no, just you.

She could hear his voice in that message — low, teasing, and devastatingly focused — as if he were beside her. The notion sent a tremble through her body. Her phone seemed to burn her fingertips, a virtual representation of the invisible thread tugging them closer with each message sent.

8:13 p.m.: Y/N: and what if i were thinking about it? what then?

Her heart was pounding a staccato rhythm against her ribs. Each beat seemed to echo his name. She was playing with fire, and a part of her didn’t want to stop — couldn’t stop — even if she tried.

A pause lingered, almost too long, before his following message arrived, and it had her breath hitching in anticipation.

8:15 p.m.: Minhyuk: then i’d say we’re thinking about the same thing. i could be over in 10.

Her breath caught in a sharp inhale, a swirl of heat and butterflies erupting in her stomach. She’d known Minhyuk was bold, but this was uncharted territory. Each message was a step further into the unknown, and she wasn’t sure if her racing heart wanted him to slow down or to bridge the distance even faster.

8:16 p.m.: Y/N: you wouldn’t dare.

It was a challenge, the kind of throwdown she’d seen in the charged space between two people in movies, the type that always led to someone’s back pressed against a wall, breaths mingling, gazes locked. She was playing her part in their little game, the script being written in real-time.

8:17 p.m.: Minhyuk: try me.

And he added a winking emoji for good measure. A bold, ridiculous little symbol that shouldn’t have the power to increase her heart rate, but it did. It really did.

8:18 p.m.: Y/N: …

She was lost for words; the ellipsis was all she could manage as a flurry of thoughts bombarded her, each of them an image of possibility. Her body was alight with unsaid promises, every nerve ending buzzing as if the warmth of his tease had a tangible touch. The air felt charged around her, heavy with the electric potential of ‘what if.’ Was she ready for the ‘what if’ to become reality? The next few moments would tell.

8:18 p.m.: Minhyuk: say the word, and i’m there. i could have you cumming so hard you forget about that final. with my fingers, mouth, and cock.

The audacity of his words sent a jolt through her, a storm of heat and shivers cascading down her spine. She read his message once, twice, thrice, each word emblazoning itself into her mind, conjuring images more vivid than any fantasy she’d dared to entertain.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a dozen responses racing her mind. She knew Minhyuk, his sweet smirks, and the playful glint in his eye. But this was a new dance, where he was both the lead and the tempo, and she was swept up in the rhythm.

8:19 p.m.: Y/N: you talk a big game. what makes you think i’d want that?

It was a deflection, a coy invitation for him to prove his point, and part of her thrilled at the boldness of her own words. All around her, the room hummed with the tension of a prelude to something momentous.

Minhyuk replied quickly, stoking the embers that danced beneath her skin.

8:19 p.m.: Minhyuk: because i know you. because i’ve seen that look in your eyes that screams yes even when your lips are biting back the words. i’ve known you for years, y/n. i know what makes you tick. i just don’t say anything.

Her heart was soaring and plummeting all at once, caught between nerves and an exhilarating sense of inevitability. Minhyuk was as deft with his textual innuendos as he was with every other facet of their relationship — constantly pushing, always knowing just how far to go.

8:20 p.m.: Y/N: if i say the word... do you promise to keep yours?

She was still questioning, still testing the waters, but the thrum of excitement in her blood was yielding to the magnetic pull of his promise. There was a potent sense of surrender threading through her words, a submission to the torrential desire she could no longer deny.

8:21 p.m.: Minhyuk: i keep my promises. always. especially to you.

That was all it took. She sat, heart racing, a cacophony of longing ringing loud in the quiet of her room, and she realized she wanted the reality far more than the fantasy.

8:22 p.m.: Y/N: come over.

Sent.

The word lingered on the screen, heavy with implication and as momentous as crossing a threshold. As the message —come over — fades from the screen, Minhyuk feels a surge of exhilaration pulse through his veins. His heart drummed a rapid beat, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, one of anticipation and victory mixed with a raw desire he’s only ever shown to her.

8:23 p.m.: Minhyuk: i’ll be there in 10. get ready for me.

Sent.

The words, simple yet laden with his intent, dart through the digital space — a promise swiftly turning into a plan of action. He grabs his keys, phone, and composure — though the last seems fragile, like a thin veneer over the tumultuous wave of want coursing through him.

Meanwhile, her palms press into the plush fabric of the couch, her breaths coming out in short, deliberate gusts. Her eyes dart to the door and then to the phone. A carousel of feelings spins within her: excitement, trepidation, desire, doubt. One moment, she feels a giddy joy bubble up from her stomach; the next, nail-biting anxiety clenches at her throat.

She gets up, paces, and sits back down. The room feels smaller, as if the walls are inching closer with each second that ticks by. Cracks of light from the fading evening stretch across the floor, painting elongated shadows that mimic her tangled emotions.

8:25 p.m.: Y/N: okay, i’ll be waiting.

A part of her wonders at her own audacity. How easy it was to type those words, yet how profound the impact. It’s a seismic shift, an invisible line crossed, the soft click of a door unlocking — whatever it may be, their relationship won’t be the same after tonight.

She lights a candle, the flicker of the flame casting a warm glow in the living room. It’s a vain attempt at nonchalance as if to say, ‘I do this all the time,’ when, in fact, her heart’s racing like it’s her first-ever date. Her mind plays and replays the possible scenarios, each as vivid and nerve-wracking as the last. Then, she blows it out. Her mind going a mile a minute. This was probably just going to be a quick fuck session. Nothing more.

And then, as the minute hand inches obligingly towards the half-hour mark, every nerve in her body seems to stand on edge, her senses heightened to the rapid-fire staccato of her heartbeat. It is equally the most terrifying and exciting countdown.

Three heavy and loud knocks greet her once-silent apartment. The knocks seem to reverberate throughout her apartment, a thunderous declaration that shatters the quiet anticipation. She freezes, every muscle coiled with an energy akin to the electric charge of a brewing storm. The moment she’s been swinging between dread and desire is now palpable, as imminent as the next breath.

Time seems to stretch these seconds to minutes as she gathers the courage to pad across the hardwood floor. She feels every fiber in the woven rug underfoot, every whisper of the evening air that sneaks through the cracks of her haven. With each step, her heart is both a traitor and an ally, pounding against her chest in nervous fervor.

Her hand hesitates briefly at the door handle, a transitional talisman that stands between what was and what could be. The cool metal sears her skin, starkly contrasting the warmth flooding her veins. She’s vulnerable, exposed, and yet the thrill of it sets her alight — a moth to flame, a siren to the sea.

Swallowing the tightly bunched nerves in her throat, she flings the door open with a quiet determination. It’s her choice, her call to make.

And there he is — Minhyuk — looking every bit the tempest she feels inside. His eyes are hooded, heavy with a desire that mirrors her own, and his lips part slightly, as if every breath he takes is borrowed, meant for this moment alone. His hair is a charming disarray, a testament to the fingers that have raked through it in impatience, want, or both.

His gaze latches onto hers immediately, an invisible yet unbreakable link snapping taut between them. He wastes no time and no words. As if pulled by an irresistible force, he steps into her apartment, closing the space that had stretched unfathomable just seconds ago. With a surety that only Minhyuk possesses, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close.

Everything in her screams to melt into him, into the kiss they’ve both implicitly promised each other through screens and silent longings. Her lips part in an intake of breath, a silent invitation.

He meets her halfway, and the kiss is a collision of every unsaid confession, every smoldering glance, every midnight thought. It consumes her, a fire that she’s stoked with every heart race, every blush, every time she dared to look at him and see more than just her best friend.

He nudges her towards the couch, his fingers gripping her hip as she sinks down onto its cushions. Her eyes lock onto his, desire smoldering beneath her gaze. He moves in closer, tracing the curve of her neck with his lips as he inches lower, his hand sliding up her thigh. She gasps as his fingers brush against her damp underwear, her body arching into his touch. His lips find hers, their kiss deepening as his hand works its way inside her panties, stroking her already swollen core.

“Fuck,” he whispers against her mouth, “you’re wet.”

She moans softly, unable to tear her eyes away from his as he slowly pulls down her panties and tosses them aside. He kneels between her legs, running his tongue along the length of her slit before plunging it deep inside her tight heat. She bucks against him, crying out in pleasure as he thrusts his tongue in and out of her hungrily. His fingers find their way back to her clit, circling it expertly as he sucks harder on her folds.

She’s never felt anything like this before; he knows exactly how to drive her wild with need. And how he looks at her — like she’s something precious yet completely surrendered — makes her heart race and throb between her legs.

“Soon, you’ll be forgetting all about that final while I make you cum over and over again. How do you want to cum the first time? With my mouth or fingers?”

The sound of his voice sends chills down her spine. She can feel his hot breath on her pussy, his tongue dancing over her sensitive nub. Her eyes roll back in pleasure as she responds, “Fingers, please.”

With a smirk, he removes his fingers from her dripping pussy and starts massaging her clit, using his thumb to apply pressure and flick it gently. She squirms and whimpers, desperate for release.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, a voice full of taunting innocence.

“No! Please don’t stop,” she pleads, her eyes squeezed shut.

Satisfied, he continues his assault on her clit until she’s writhing in ecstasy, begging him to finger her. He smiles wickedly, knowing he has complete control over her.

“Please finger me. I need it so bad,” she begs, her voice hoarse with need.

He chuckles darkly and leans in close to whisper in her ear. “Of course, princess. Whatever you want.”

With that, he slides two fingers inside her tight pussy, curling them up to hit her G-spot just right. She cries out in pleasure, her body shaking as he pumps his fingers in and out of her. He adds a third finger, stretching her wider and hitting deeper. She moans louder, her hips bucking wildly against his hand.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he teases, his voice low and gravelly.

She nods frantically, unable to speak through the waves of pleasure washing over her. He grins and increases the pace of his fingers, rubbing her clit with his thumb. She cries out again, her entire body tightening as she reaches the brink of orgasm.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he growls, his voice filled with possessiveness.

She gives in, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. She comes hard, screaming his name as her entire body shakes and trembles. He keeps pumping his fingers, letting her ride her orgasm out. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to catch her breath. He allowed it only for a moment, letting out a gasp as his mouth replaced his fingers.

“I told you I’m going to make you cum with my mouth. I need to taste you.”

Her body quivered and shook as his tongue danced along her clit. Her hands tangled themselves in his hair, holding him closer. His tongue was relentless. He sucked hard, licking faster, flicking her clit harder and harder. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to another orgasm. His fingers slid inside her once more, and he began to pump them in and out of her, his tongue still working overtime on her clit. The sensation was too much. She screamed out his name and came hard once again.

With a savage growl, he buried his face between her trembling thighs, his tongue lashing out at her swollen clit with unrestrained hunger, wanting to get another orgasm from her. She gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair as he devoured her pussy like a starving man. His tongue danced and flicked, tracing wet circles around her sensitive bud before sucking it hard into his mouth.

“Fuck, yes,” she moaned, grinding her hips against his face. “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”

He growled again, the vibrations sending shockwaves through her body as he doubled down on his assault. His fingers slid inside her, pumping in and out with an almost brutal intensity. She could feel herself tightening around him, her orgasm building like wildfire.

“You like that, baby?” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“God, yes,” she whimpered, her fingers digging into his scalp. “More, give me more.”

He chuckled darkly, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers pumping harder. She could feel her legs shaking, her body trembling with the effort of holding on. And then, with a final flick of his tongue, she shattered.

“Oh, fuck!” she screamed, her back arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working her through her orgasm until she was boneless and spent.

“Is that so?” he replied, his voice husky with desire, his brow raised in surprise, a smirk pulling at his lips.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I want you to take me,” she said, her voice low and seductive. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

Without another word, he rose from the couch and pulled her towards him. Their lips crashed together in a feverish kiss as he guided her towards the bedroom. They stumbled through the door, their hands frantically tugging at each other’s clothes until they were both naked and pressed against the bed.

He pushed her onto the soft mattress, his body covering hers as he claimed her lips once more. She moaned into his mouth as he trailed kisses down her neck, his hands roaming over her body with possessive hunger.

“You asked for it,” he said, his voice barely audible. He growled, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance.

And then he was inside her, filling her completely. She gasped, her nails digging into his back as he began to move. He fucked her hard and fast, his hips slamming into hers with bruising force. She could feel every inch of him, his cock hitting her in just the right spot.

“Harder,” she begged, her voice breathless. “Fuck me harder. I want you to keep your promise to me.”

He growled, his fingers tightening on her hips as he complied. She could feel herself building again, her orgasm coiling in her belly like a spring. And then, with one final thrust, he sent her over the edge.

“Oh, God!” she screamed, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. He followed her over, his own orgasm tearing through him like a storm.

When it was over, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, their bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. “Fuck. That was good.”

“I aim to please,” he said, his voice smug. He then chuckled, his hand stroking her hair.

“You’re insufferable,” she said, but her tone was affectionate. Rolling her eyes, a soft chuckle left her lips as she turned to look at him. At that moment, they felt like lovers. Not two best friends who had probably just broken so many rules and fucked. That was perhaps the first rule as best friends. Not fuck. “Min, can I ask you something?”

Silence filled the room—a loaded, thickening quiet pressed against their skin even as they basked in the afterglow of their indiscretion. The sheets clung to their intertwined limbs, a shroud of evidence to the line they had just obliterated.

“Yeah, anything,” he responded, still close enough that his breath danced across her skin.

Her voice, when it next came, was a poignant mix of vulnerability and resolve. “Minhyuk, what does this mean for us? We’ve just tangled everything up, and I can’t... I can’t just pretend we can go back to how things were.”

He felt the weight of her question settle over his chest, heavier than her hand had been moments before. Averting his gaze, he reached for levity in a situation that felt dangerously close to shifting their worlds. “Before we get into that, have you considered what you’re doing this summer? Maybe a trip somewhere could clear our heads.”

The light swat to his chest was a rebuke, her expression earnest and searching. “Seriously, Minhyuk. We can’t just ignore this.”

“You’re right,” he conceded, his voice touched by a seriousness mirrored her own. He sighed, feeling the tension in the air wraps around them tight. “We can’t. So here’s the truth — I don’t have all the answers. But I know that whatever we’ve done or will do, I don’t want to lose you, not as my friend, not as... this. Whatever this is.”

She let the silence fill the room for a beat. Unsure of their next actions. She just fucked her best friend. Her best friend of 5 years. The man who comforted her during her heartbreaks, made her laugh when she was at her lowest, the man who knew her family so well. And she loved it.

Hell, she loved him.

“We could be friends with benefits.” Throwing the idea out there was just as risky as him leaving her apartment and blocking her number once he realized that this was fucked and should’ve never happened. But she was greedy - far too greedy for her to admit. She would rather pass away than see Minhyuk with someone. And she’s been around him for a long time to see how well he can treat someone he loves. She wants that. “Or not. We can just act like this didn’t happen.”

Her heart was a thunderous echo against her ribs as she waited for his reaction. The words hung there, suspended, a proposal that felt like the edge of a precipice. Fear twisted inside her; images of him pulling away, of a frayed friendship, flashed in her mind.

Minhyuk was silent. His eyes, dark pools of thought, fixed on her face as if trying to read the story written in her expectant gaze. Time crawled, a slow tick in an otherwise frozen room.

And then, finally, he exhaled. “Okay.”

Her breath hitched. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, the corner of his lips tilting into a half-smile of bemused acceptance. “We can try it. Friends with benefits.”

She nearly choked on her relief. But her heart was still a galloping stallion; this was uncharted territory.

“But if we’re doing this,” Minhyuk continued, suddenly practical in the midst of their emotional tempest, “we need rules. We must be on the same page about everything to protect... this.” He gestured between them, the fragile, precious thing that was their friendship.

Her mind raced, and yet, she was hit by the sudden gravity of their decision. “Rules,” she echoed, the word bringing a semblance of safety amidst the chaos of their desire. “Rules. Okay.”

“We respect each other, always,” he started, the serious hue returning to his voice. “And if one of us starts feeling more, we talk about it—no ghosting, no pretending. Nobody can know. This is between us. Someone might complicate things. Lastly, if either of us finds someone…” He paused, his eyes searching her room before landing on her again. Clearing his throat, he continues, “We stop this. We go back to being just best friends.”

She nodded, feeling the weight of their pact settle in. “And we end things if it’s too much.”

They both knew the stakes, the gamble, but in that moment, cloaked in the night’s embrace, it seemed possible to preserve their bond while exploring these new, thrilling dynamics.

“Deal,” she whispered, a pact sealed with a mixture of anxiety and exhilaration.

The new agreement hummed between them, electric and alive. They were venturing into a maelstrom, two friends teetering on the cusp of something more, grasping at rules in a game where the heart was the ultimate prize.

“Deal.”

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hanbinswifey · 1 year ago

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Seventeen Virgins and Not Virgins : MY TAKE

Seungcheol:

People might flame me for this but I think this man is definitely a virgin. He’s had his dick sucked, most definitely. But I don’t think he’s stuck it in yet. Not that he couldn’t lose it if he wanted to, he just doesn’t care for it, and he doesn’t have the time.

Jeonghan:

Not a virgin. I mean that is just so obvious. His demeanor, everything. He’s incredibly mature, even more mature than you’d expect a 27 year old to be. Plus, he just has that effortless sex appeal. He definitely gets some pussy and/or some ass in the DL. Often too, cuz he always chill. He probably fucked Hyungwon too.

Joshua:

Not a virgin. I don’t even have to elaborate, do I?

Jun:

Not a virgin. Even though he��s a good actor, I think him and Yi Zhang fucked, definitely. The chemistry was too real and you could just feel it between them. Also with his hip flexibility, I know he be hitting it weekly at least.

Hoshi:

Not a virgin. He’s definitely had sex before, yeah definitely. He probably gets some at least a couple times a month, and I’m around 99% convinced it’s with either a red velvet member or a fellow dancer. Call it a gut feeling, that’s definitely right.

Wonwoo:

Not a virgin, but I don’t think he gets it often. His last hookup was probably like a year or so ago, and he’s not really big on sex anyways.

Woozi:

If you had asked me three months ago, I would have said virgin. But these days, have yall seen this man? He is glowing, I mean literally glowing like never before. I don’t know what to call it but a sex afterglow, lol. Check on Seventeen’s TT, every dance challenge he does he is so just cheery, and I’ve never seen him like that before. In conclusion, he’s getting pussy and/or ass really often these days. Or dick idk.

DK:

This man is not a fuckin virgin. Those muscles, that voice, that face? THOSE thighs? He has sex, and he’s good at it. He acts silly on the outside, and goofy and shit, but he’s serious in the bedroom. He’s probably sweet but also mean, and I stand by this.

Mingyu:

A dick virgin by choice. Not to say that he hasn’t had MULTIPLE opportunities, but I think he’s too shy. That being said, I think he’s been fucked before. He’s just a submissive person in general, lololol.

The8:

NOT a virgin. This man, gets bitches. Chinese, Korean, American, all of em. He probably got girls lined up in his phone, listed by numbers. I’m half joking, but either way, he’s a total dom in the bedroom, and he probably fucks often.

Seungkwan:

Not a virgin. He’s really popular with korean media especially, and in variety shows, etc. Especially in the new netflix show that came out, he probably had some people come to his room. My point being, he has an unspoken rizz. Watch any of his were lives and you’ll see that. I’m not talking about entertainment king Boo Seungkwan, I’m talking about actual Seungkwan. I say this again, watch one of his live videos, and watch him be effortlessly cool, sexy, and rizzzzzyyy.

Vernon:

Not a virgin, he chill and he get some on the down low as well.

DINO:

Not a MOTHERFUCKIN virgin! He fucks bitches, a lot. I just know it. He can get anyone, anytime. He packing too…. His body is literally..perfect, he has broad shoulders, thick thighs. He’s every girl and guys dream.

THATS IT

#seventeen #seventeenimagine #seventeen smut #freeforn #hoshi #vernon #mingyu #jeonghan #joshua #seungkwan #seokmin #dk #scoups #dino #wonwoo #jun

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breezybangtanbebe · 1 year ago

Text

God Damn : Changkyun❤️‍🔥

A/N: (i wrote this like over a year ago and never edited it🙃) Changkyun x reader (1st person), toxic breakup, drinking, angst, raw sex, rough sex. Emotional and smutty...I apologize in advance. 🌚

6.6k words

"I'm really worried about him."

"He hasn't been himself since you left..."

"He's so lost without you..."

"He's not responding to any of us and we can't find him..."

"Please Mira.....you're the only one who knows him like us..maybe even better than us. He'll talk to you."

That last text from Kihyun was the hardest one to ignore because it was true.

I did know Changkyun better than his friends and that was one of the reasons why I left him in the first place.

I was done with him and this fucking city, already packed and in a hotel until the day of my flight came. This place held too many memories for me to remain here after our separation some months ago and the wounds were too fresh to risk the temptation to go back.

It hurts but I can't keep living like this.

Neither can he.

I knew I would find him here though.

He was such a creature of habit that it annoyed me that his friends wouldn't think to look here first.

It never fails.

He was always so easy to predict and sometimes I wish he'd prove me wrong.

Just once.

Maybe this is a setup.

Hmm...

The smoke was thick and blinding in the crowded basement and the bass shook the walls as I descended from the final step. The rain and thunder outside were drowned out immediately by the music and I have to squint my eyes to see through the haze as I stepped through it.

It was a typical Saturday night and the mutual acquaintance and owner of the house was hosting one of his usual boozed-up functions that I admittedly used to look forward to. But we all have to grow up sometime.

I moved through the swaying crowd of people too drunk and high to care about making way for the angry curly-headed brunette searching the crowd. All of them were lost in the rhythm of the music.

And whatever else they were on...

I hoped he would be among the many in the small sea of stoners. Make my life easy just once would you, Im Changkyun.

Fucking pain in my ass.

Eventually, I made my way to the furthest corner of the party which was illuminated by beaming red LEDs. Several booths lined the back wall where a single light bulb glowed above each table. All of them were littered with paraphernalia, hookahs, empty liquor bottles, and ashtrays filled to the brim with roaches (not the bugs) and cigarette butts. The stink of smoke was even more potent here since it was the source and it burned my eyes the closer I got.

That's when I saw him.

I know it was him immediately by the sway of his long unkept hair hanging in his face. His black leather jacket is draped behind him and the bulge of his tattooed bicep flexes beneath his loose white v-neck tee. He sat with his head down, his elbows resting on the table and his hands running through his hair.

He's alone. Thankfully. Or else this would have been thrice as awkward. It was at that moment that I questioned my intentions as I lingered a few feet away.

Why am I here?

I should just call one of his friends and tell them he's here.

Jooheon would be happy to pull up with Hosoek more than likely to take over.

Kihyun would march straight up to him and yank him up by his collar.

Minhyuk would most likely do something similar after cussing him out for worrying everyone.

Hyunwoo would sit and talk some sense into him, convince him to pull himself out of this ditch he'd buried himself in.

Hyungwon would drink with him for a little before convincing him to quit and go home.

They were his friends. They should be the ones to handle him in his ruins. Not me.

I should just call one of them.

I should walk away now.

I should...

I'm about to step back into the darkness of the dance floor but suddenly go stiff when Changkyun lifts his head and for the first time in what feels like forever I see his face.

He seems thinner, his jawline sharper than I remember, and there is a red smudge staining the corning of his bottom lip. That's when I noticed the redness on his knuckles.

The scrapes, bruises, and scars.

What had he done to himself after we went our separate ways? Drinking himself into a stooper aside. What demons had he been battling that I couldn't bear witnessing any longer?

Without thinking about it anymore, I approached him with a fast beating and heavy heart. I'm gonna get him out of here and be done.

For good.

I stand beside where he's seated and wait for him to notice me, hoping he isn't too far gone in the glass of what I presumed to be some form of cognac with no ice.

It only takes a few seconds for Changkyun to lift his head to look up at me with blank eyes. It's as if I was just some random girl blocking the light. But after a few seconds of exaggeratedly slow blinking, his expression changes from indifference to annoyance.

"Amira?" I catch on his lips. Changkyun looks me up and down, studying me in my jeans and coat before lazily locking eyes with me again.

"I'm here to take you home." I raise my voice and the look of irony on my ex's face gives me pause.

"Home...." He slurs with a tsk as he drags his eyes back down to the swirling liquor in his glass.

I furrow my brow at him but choose to dismiss the look of disgust on his face.

"Get up," I say with more urgency, not even bothering to raise my voice. Changkyun scoffs lightly before picking up the short-cut glass set before him on the table.

My face hardened as he ignored me to take a sip of the amber substance, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"I am home so.......Fuck off...." He mumbles, gesturing towards the glass as he sucks in another sip.

He was so stubborn when was drunk.

Definitely NOT going to miss that.

Losing my patience, I reach for the glass before he can take another sip and Changkyun's lightning reflexes seem well intact judging by how quickly he moved the cup from my reach. But in the process, he also underestimates the strength of his grip and the small glass shatters in his grasp.

Broken shards fall over the tabletop, spilling the alcohol all over its surface. No one around reacts to the scene though, leaving only me to witness the frustration in Changkyun's expression.

"God dammit..." I hear him huff and my eyes go wide at the steady stream of blood tricking from his palm. He doesn't seem to notice it though and is staggering to his feet like a drone. I already knew what he was after, a drink to replace that one and I wasn't having it.

"No," I say as I grabbed him by the wrist. Changkyun looks down at my hand then at me and scoffs.

"What are you doing?" He furrows his brow with an arrogant smirk.

"You can barely walk. No more drinking. Let's go." I yell over the music.

"Go home, Mira..."

"I'm not leaving here without you!"

"For fucks sake..."

Changkyun drunkenly scoffs at me again before snatching out of my grasp. I quickly grab his other and it turns into an obnoxious game of snatch and grab on the dance floor.

If I weren't so annoyed and pissed, I would be embarrassed at how childish we must have looked. Standing there playing tug of war with each other. Of course, I was no match for Changkyun's strength but I was sober. This meant my reaction time reflexes and persistence were bound to have him relenting to my will eventually.

It took some convincing and a bit of manhandling on my end to get Changkyun to leave the basement. Thankfully, there seems to be a break in the storm and I glance up at the sky with relief.

At least we wouldn't have to walk in the rain on top of me dragging this drunk ass.

My mood plummets once we reach the sidewalk. Because the moment we're outside and the humid air hits him, I flinch at how Changkyun suddenly moves out of my reach to double over a random trash can.

Ugh.

I rolled my eyes even harder as he wretched into the metal bin, resisting the urge to go to him. To rub his back and stroke his hair. To comfort him through the inevitable.

I don't though.

That wasn't my job anymore.

We stumble up the sidewalk for a few blocks until we reach his apartment building and I get him inside using the code I'd memorized from frequent use over the years. It was now pouring again and we were drenched by the time we stepped inside the building's lobby.

I get him inside and shiver at the chilling temperature from the doorway. As if being soaked to the bone with rainwater wasn't enough. It seemed as though just to vex me, my thoughtless drunk of an ex kept his heat off all day.

"Ugh..." I exhale again. Standing here cussing him in my mind wouldn't get us warm so with me supporting most of his weight, we enter.

A trail of wet shoes and outerwear lay abandoned by the front door and the hum of the heat filling the old vents of his apartment swirl around us as I sat in the living room.

I kept his lights dim and left the TV off as I listened to the rain pattering against the windows.

Changkyun snored softly in the spot I allowed him to plop down on the couch and he'd fallen asleep immediately, his hair and shirt still damp, leaving me on the armchair opposite of him.

There Amira. The job was done.

You can leave now.

Leave him and all of this torment behind you.

I said that to myself as I rose to my feet. Changkyun remained still and sleeping with his face mushed against the cushion, his wet hair fanned out over his head.

Why did he have to be so cute AND such a disaster all at once?

Lightning strikes, spooking me to sit back down on the indented sofa. Then another chill ran over my body despite the warming air, reminding me of the weather I'd be facing again once I stepped outside.

An Uber or cab would cost a bit.

And the metro station was too far to walk to in the rain.

Perhaps I should have thought this through, instead of allowing Kihyun's worrisome ass to convince me to do this.

"Dammit.." I sigh, ultimately deciding it would be best to stay put. Hopefully, Changkyun remained asleep by the time the storm let up enough for me to sneak out of there.

So I stayed, reluctantly, and leaned my head back against the cushion of the sofa.

Between the thunder, the buzzing hum of the heating system in his apartment, and the soft sound of Changkyun's muffled snoring, it wasn't long before my eyes began to roll back sleepily.

"Hey...."

I flinch and my eyes pop open to find Changkyun standing before me in the living room, shirtless with his wild mane sitting messily atop his head.

It looked as if he'd awakened some time ago and taken a shower since he's in different clothes and the clean scent of his shampooed hair is detectable from his proximity.

I gulp as my eyes travel down his body of their own volition but blink away any inappropriate ideas before they can form. I lift my gaze to find him staring at me with the same dark interest.

"You're still here..." he states calmly as I sit up in the seat and he regards me just as soft as his voice as I glance around the room with mild confusion.

It was still dark outside but the storm had eased up significantly.

Damn...

How long was I asleep?

His eyes seemed more sober than they were before he passed out and I looked up at him speculatively.

That's a relief.

"Um...yeah. Must have dozed off.." I mutter, grimacing as I shake the sleepiness away.

Changkyun makes a noise that could have either been a scoff or a snort of humor.

"Yeah. Me too.." he chuckles, but his smile doesn't touch his eyes as it trailed off.

I can't imagine the headache he must have right now.

At his pause, I take it upon myself to continue.

"I stuck around hoping that the storm would let up a bit and dry off. I wasn't trying to..."

"Naw it's cool. You don't have to explain...Shit, to be honest...I don't even remember how I got home. Glad you had something to do with that and not some random..." he chuckles shamelessly and although I know he saying it in a joking manner, I know he is serious.

There's no telling how many women he's brought back here after getting shitfaced.

The thought makes my stomach turn.

"Yeah well...Since you're awake, I should probably get going..." I concede amid his nervous chuckling, preparing to stand and Changkyun immediately lifts his hands to stop me.

"What? No...I mean... it's still raining and it's late. People drive like dick heads over here when it's wet..." he says, his choice of words always colorful.

"It's fine...I didn't drive. I took the train." I said truthfully.

Changkyun frowns at my response.

"You took the train? What happened to your car?" He asks and I go tense.

Oh boy.

"I.......sold it," I answer him, tucking my lips between my teeth as I wait for him to digest the answer.

The two of us hadn't spoken in a while which meant I hadn't made him aware of me moving away, let alone me selling the car he'd spent countless hours working on for free.

Other than it being in my name and me being financially responsible for it, Changkyun put just as many miles and effort into it as if it were his.

"You sold your car..." he deadpans and I nod affirmatively.

Bravely.

Awkwardly.

"Yep. For a really good price to a guy I knew from uptown. I.... can't afford to take it with me so.."

"Oh right! Because you're moving out of the city." Changkyun interrupts me.

The sluggishness in his voice was no longer present, telling me he was for sure sober. But that same hint of disdain and disgust presented itself as he spoke. I open my mouth to respond but he cuts me off.

"Yeah....I know. Kinda saw it on Instagram. The whole "going away party" threads on your friend's stories gave me the clue. Sucks that I couldn't hear the news from you but...ya know." he shrugs sullenly.

I stand there quietly for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Yeah." is all I can muster and Changkyun scoffs.

"Yeah.." he chuckles breathily, turning away from me as he runs a hand through his hair. I watched him begin to pace slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck and flaunting his bare upper body to the neon glow of the street lights just beyond his apartment window.

"I get it though. Of course you sold it. I mean...why not? You could always just get a replacement. Since that's your way of doing shit anyway. Commit to something, get it all fixed up, and just...walk away from it." He turns on his heel to throw in before turning his back to me again.

His statement stuns me and I'm left speechless as he continues away from me.

I watch his back and the shadows cast against his muscles from the dimness as he walks over to his array of liquor bottles lined up against the back wall of the kitchen counters. He reaches for a half-empty Hennesy, twisting the cap and tipping it back for a hefty sip that's swallowed down like water.

I furrow my brow at the way his shoulders sag in relief as he turns to me.

"You could have told me, you know? Thought we were better than that," he remarks stiffly before he lifts the bottle back to his lips, gazing over its body at me as he takes another sip.

His eyes are expectant and I just stare back, too tired to indulge him.

I sigh heavily and begin patting my pockets to make sure my phone and wallet are still there before spotting my keys on his coffee table.

"The only reason I'm here was because Kihyun reached out." I snatch them up and they jingle loudly as I step around the table. Changkyun frowns at the sound of his friend's name on my lips and narrows his eyes.

"Why the fuck would he hit you up?" he asks and I snort at the bitterness of his question.

"I asked myself the same thing. But he figured I was his last resort in getting in contact with you, seeing as how you've been avoiding everyone and missing work. Believe me, though, I'm starting to wish he hadn't..." I respond honestly breezing past Changkyun in the direction of his guest bathroom.

The only reason I'm able to move so comfortably around his apartment was that Id damn near made it my second home in the duration of our tumultuous relationship.

I wouldn't be surprised if I still had a toothbrush or a box of tampons here.

I flip the light switch, not at all surprised to find Changkyun following close behind and my disheveled reflection staring back at me in the mirror. My curls had dried only a little and my makeup was smudged a tad but not ruined.

"Right..because I'm not your problem anymore." He chuffs, taking another sip and I roll my eyes at his antics as I try to tend to my appearance. I run my fingers through my hair roughly before snatching a paper towel off the roll, dampening it before wiping just below my eyeline.

"You were never my problem Changkyun. The only one here with problems was you." I mutter distractedly, frowning at how difficult it was to wipe away my mascara. My response seems to amuse him and an ironic smirk crosses his face as he leans against the doorway.

"And I'm guessing that's why you left? Me and my problems? Just me though, right? Since you're so perfect..." he asks with a cheeky tone and I hiss irritably as I abruptly turn to face him.

"What choice did I have? What choice did you give me? All we do is fight. It's not healthy for either of us and I'm exhausted. YOU are exhausting. I never claimed to be perfect but you..." I go on and Changkyun nods cynically as I speak.

"Yeah...c'mon. Lay it on me. Tell me how horrible I am despite all the shit I've done for you...I'm the fucking worst right?" He chortles and I can't help but laugh.

"Like I haven't done shit for you! Don't act like that negates the fact that you can't change or that...I don't know...We just aren't compatible anymore. That we've grown apart..."

"I'm not changing for somebody who doesn't know what the fuck they want. Ok?" Changkyun cuts in, jutting his forefingers into his sternum emphatically.

"You're impossible to satisfy Mira! You want me to be someone that I'm not. At least not yet...You put pressure on me to do shit how you want and when I fall short, I'm the bad guy. I never cheated on you. Never put my hands on you..."

"Gee, thanks for the bare minimum of common decency Kyun. I appreciate it." I mumble amid his rambling...

"..when you suggested seeing a shrink, I was open to it.." he continues.

"But did you go?" I tack on and he rolls his eyes.

"That's not the point. You gotta give me time. This shit here? Talking about my feelings...this is new territory for me. You never cut me any slack. You just criticize and jet like you're doing now.."

"Because I'm tired of cutting you slack. I'm tired of waiting...I wanted us to evolve and be better together. I wanted us to live together officially and live healthier and get married and..." I trail off, the words clogging my throat as the heartbreak of feeling rejected by him swell.

For a while, we were fine.

But eventually, I wanted more than what he was willing to give. And he tried to appease me and distract me from the fact that our relationship had hit a plateau.

It took us having a pregnancy scare for me to really see how unprepared he was for us moving forward.

"...but you've made it explicitly clear that that's not what you want." I nearly choke on the sob threatening to break through.

We'd been through this too many times and rehashing it was the last thing I wanted. Changkyun blinked a few times as if he needed to gauge my demeanor before responding.

Then he looked away painfully, grimacing a bit as he rubbed at the back of his neck with a troubled sigh.

"I know...I'm just..not ready.." he mutters, his eyes now on the floor. His jaw tightened and shifted as he contemplated something and I remained in front of the bathroom sink patiently.

The silence between us was deafening and the longer I gazed at him and his conflicted state, the stronger my urge to cry became.

I love this man.

So much that it hurts to even say it.

Changkyun lifts his head suddenly at the sound of me sniffling and I curse myself for letting a tear escape.

I turn my back to wipe it away with a shaky huff.

"I know. And I'm not waiting for you to be. I can't. I'm just done." I shake my head, avoiding the searing look in his eyes I knew he was giving me.

I sniffle again, scanning his bathroom for the tiny waste bin to discard the charcoal-streaked paper towel and Changkyun stands unmoved in the doorway as I brush past him.

Before I'm clear of him, I feel his hand gripping me by the wrist.

I pause, anticipating the inevitable. Another condescending remark to get a rise out of me, provoking me to engage in more back and forth. Feeding his selfish need to drain me until I was as empty as he felt.

But to my surprise, he says nothing.

At his silence, I turn to find him staring at our now intertwined fingers sadly.

His brow creased painfully and the muscles in his jaw tensed as he bit back the urge to cry, the urge that glistened in his hooded eyes.

"You can't be angry at me for not wanting what you want when you want it," he repeats and I roll my eyes, pulling my hand from his with little effort. He doesn't try to stop me from withdrawing despite us moving like magnets. He drags behind me to the living room mindlessly.

"I'm not doing this...." I mutter as I scan the room as if I'd forgotten something.

"You're here, so you are. We..are doing this." He grits, his tone making me turn on my heel to face him with the full intention to cuss and give him exactly what he wanted.

But the way he glares into me with broken eyes and his sullen shoulders, I'm rendered silent.

"We could have worked this out but instead you did what you always do when shit gets tough. Run away.." he closes the distance between us tentatively, his voice shaking as he spoke.

I shake my head at the conviction in his voice, knowing we were at an impasse.

"Right.." I chuckle before wiping my eyes one more time. I lift them to match his glare intensely.

"And you go and do what you always do when you can't take accountability for shit. Go and find solace at the bottom of a liquor bottle until you're painting the floor with it."

I know the words a daggers to him when he narrows his eyes.

"And you're such a saint." Changkyun tuts his brow arrogantly at me.

Yes. There was a time when getting black-out drunk and high was considered a good time. And those horrible habits were the reason Changkyun and I bonded. Mutual interests evolved as did our relationship and loving him made being under the influence less necessary.

"Well, it's a good thing we ended things right? Since we're so different..." I shrug and Changkyun scoffs, looking away with his tongue sticking through the skin of his cheek. When he looks back, it's with a look that always used to make my core tighten.

"I didn't end shit." he insists, narrowing his eyes at him darkly.

"I know."

"Exactly. So stop acting like I wronged you in all of this. Stop acting like I'm the one who broke your heart, Mira."

The tears were flowing freely by now and I neither had the will or strength to resist them anymore. Eyes rimmed red and shining, I let out a laugh that morphs into a muffled sob.

"I had to. Don't you understand? For the sake of my sanity, I had to walk away because I was not going to sit back and watch you destroy yourself. To watch us destroy each other. I loved you too much to continue this. I tried but I just couldn't. I had to be done."

"What if I'm not?"

"Kyun..."

"I don't wanna be done."

He stares at me blankly for a moment, his eyes reading the way I avoided his with a melancholy smirk.

Suddenly Im inhaling the malted mix of cognac and mint as he grabbed me at the back of my neck, pulling me forward so that he could rest his forehead against mine.

His eyes bore into mine, dark as obsidian and just as hard. The tip of his nose brushes mine and he tilts his head so his words are painted against my lips in an exalted exhale.

"And neither do you.." he mouths, our parted lips sharing a desperate breath for a moment before one of us gives in.

And it's him.

It's always him.

The darkness in his eyes was sinful when he pulled away and I'm ashamed to have been the one chasing his lips a little when he did.

His presence was more intoxicating than any liquor I ever consumed.

The way neon lights from beyond the window blinked against the side of his face, highlighting his chiseled features as he walked me back until I was pressed flat against the wall of his living room.

"Kyunnie?" I stammer as he pressed against me, pinning me to the concrete grey-painted wall, kneading my nape as he tipped his head back just enough to see my face.

His eyes danced with mine for a moment, both of us hesitating and searching for something in the other.

"You hate me, don't you?" He asks.

"I never said that..." I attempt to respond but he shakes his head.

"You never had to..." he cuts me off, his eyes falling to my lips. Without a shred of hesitation, he leans in and kisses me again.

Harder.

More fervently.

Hennessy and desperation lingered on his tongue but he didn't kiss me as if on a drunken impulse. He kissed me as if his life depended on it. Sloppy and frantic. Our teeth clashed at moments as our tongues fought and our voices melded into a melody of muffled moans.

What the hell was happening...

A few minutes ago I was ready to walk away from this part of my life. Ready to end this chapter and close the door on the man who knew better but wouldn't do or be better.

Toxic wasn't even the word.

His mouth parts from mine and he trails sloppy desperate pecks down from my lips to my neck.

My weakness.

The moment his lips grazed my skin, chills ran over my entire body, and Changkyun wasted no time in taking my flesh between his teeth. His hard body felt hot against mine and I wasn't sure if it was his heartbeat I felt through my clothes or my own. But what I did know was that I needed him.

In more than just a physical sense.

I needed him all over me.

On top of me.

Inside me.

His tongue swipes over the series of love bites he placed on my skin and I moan his name needingly. I feel him smile against me and chuckle softly before sucking a mark over my pulse.

He knew he had me the moment he sunk his teeth into my skin. Im putty in his hands and anything he desired was his as long as he was willing to fulfill mine.

Seconds later, we're falling back against his couch with me straddling his waist and him ripping my clothes off. It was not long before Im naked and gazing down at the length of Changkyun's dick standing up in his grasp.

He bites his lip, dragging his hooded gaze up my body as if he'd never seen it before.

Or as if he believed he'd never see it again.

He squeezed my hip with his other hand, encouraging me to grind my hips against him a few times before rising to my knees.

Wordlessly, he guides me down to sink into me slowly. A slow hiss blows between his teeth before his jaw goes slack and my eyes flutter shut in ecstasy at the slight sting.

It felt like forever since I'd had him inside me but it couldn't have been long enough for me to forget how he stretched me. I moan shamelessly with my head thrown back, my waist already whining against him and Changkyun reaches up to tangle his fingers with the hair at my nape.

He pulls me forward, forcing me to look at him as he buries himself as deep as I'll allow him.

"Fuck me baby...fuck me like you fucking hate me.." Changkyun demands, the growl in his deep raspy voice driving me wild with emotion and lust.

I obey immediately, placing my hands on the back of the couch for better support. I slowly roll my hips back and forth to find my rhythm, using my lower body strength to bounce on him. Every movement pushes him deeper and I soon lose myself completely in how good he felt.

Like he was made for me.

My moans soon drowned out the sound of our skin slapping together, the wetness and stimulation pushing me closer to climax.

It never took long for Changkyun to make me cum. He knew my body that well and at times I resented it. He was arrogant with the power he held and it's shown in the amusement written all over his face right now.

His brow is perked and his eyes are fixed on my face, relishing in the painfully pleasured expression of my impending orgasm as he bucked his hips to drive himself exactly where I needed him.

When my legs begin to shake, he smiles and fucks into me faster until a rush of release spurts out and around his dick. My warmth and wetness surrounded him like a waterfall, and he fought against the current effortlessly as I cried out.

"Oh my god.." I drawl out and Changkyun silences anything else I might have said by pulling me in by the neck to kiss him sloppily.

He hugs me against him, holding me in place as his hips continue to roll upwards and stroking me slowly as we kiss.

"I changed my mind..." I mutter against his lips and he hums questioningly.

"I do hate you..." I finish, his only response being a cruel chuckle that makes my walls clench around him.

"Fuck, Mira..." he whispers, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. I pull back slowly, allowing the flesh to stretch before he releases it with reluctance.

I attempt to untangle myself from him but his embrace only tightens with resistance.

Before I can question him, Changkyun grunts as he stands with his arms hooked beneath my legs. My eyes widen in surprise to find his hardened gaze fixated on where were still connected, biting his lip and bouncing my body against his dick.

This angle was even more torturous as it not forced him deeper, but the constant feel of me pounding against him had my clit throbbing from the friction. Not to mention the fact that he held me up and fucked me like this for a while, reminding me of how strong he was physically.

I almost feel like I can't breathe and my voice is hoarse from moaning. I most likely came again. Or a few times. I wouldn't be able to tell. I can barely see since tears still blurred my vision from before and I had no choice but to be at the mercy of my ex and his determination to prove a point.

Though, I had no idea or care of what it was.

"You hate me? Hmm...you hate me?" He grunted in time with his hard strokes, still holding me up in his arms.

I mumble his name endlessly and amidst a string of breathy moans.

I do hate him.

Hate him for ruining all men for me after this.

Hate him for always fucking me..making love to me..like his life depended on it.

Hate him for branding himself on my damaged soul so that every time I closed my eyes, my heart projected his face against the blank walls of my mind.

Hate him for giving me no choice other than to love him.

Fuck, I love him.

Changkyun pauses to step briskly with me still in his hold, nudging his already open bedroom door away for us to enter.

A chill ran over my skin as he stepped deeper into his room. The scent of his cologne and bed sheets trigger memories I fought to forget and I gasp when the softness of his them grace my back.

He doesn't waste another second.

He spreads me wide, keen eyes on where his dick still split me and a thick stream of saliva drips from his tongue and onto the point where we met.

As if it was needed.

I just think he got harder at the idea of stuffing me with as much of his DNA as he could.

And I hate to admit how hot it was.

"Kyun.." I sigh and his eyes snap up to my begging eyes as he sinks into me.

His hips rock my body higher on the mattress and his solid arms cage me against his chest as he fucked me.

Slowly.

Purposefully.

It wasn't hurried and frantic like before.

He curled into me and stroked my warm velvety walls with a gentleness I'd missed from him.

He savored me.

On his lips. On his tongue. In my sex.

Changkyun made love to me like a man stroking against a current, fighting his way to shore.

He fucked me as if it pained him not to.

I felt his lips kissing the shell of my ear as he whispered my name.

Over and over.

I can tell he's unraveling and that the moment is limited.

I held him against me, my nails scraping over his back as he rocked into me faster and harder, making me gasp.

I needed him.

Maybe not beyond this moment or these four walls.

But I needed him now in any way I could.

He'd barely pulled out in time before he spurts himself all over the face of my pussy, hiccuping my name against my throat as he came.

He strokes himself slowly, squeezing the final few drops of cum over my pink folds before pressing his dick back inside of me.

He's still rock hard and my slicked walls welcome him in with zero resistance.

I brace my hands against his hard biceps as he sank deeper inside of me to the hilt, the tip of him pressing as far as it would go. He flexes his hips and pushes himself impossibly deep.

So deep that I can feel our pulses throbbing between us.

So deep that it was as if he was yearning to touch a part of me that he never felt. A part of me that would be our saving grace and keep the withering connection between us alive.

But all I felt was pain.

Sweet.

Somber.

Sobering.

Pain.

"Changkyun...." I whimper beneath him and he eases back an inch with a heavy sigh as he lays his full weight over me.

He rests his face in the crook of my neck and I feel his warm touch caressing my face. His thumb swipes over the apple of my cheek, sweeping over the trail of tears that still flowed from my eyes.

For a while we just lay there, leveling our labored breaths and staring into the sepia tone of his darkened apartment bedroom. I feel myself drifting asleep until the deep vibrations of Changkyun's tired voice pull me back up.

"Hmm?" I rasp and he sniffs and swallows the hard lump of emotion in his throat, hugging our naked bodies tighter together.

"I don't blame you...for hating me." He says shakily, sniffling again. If it weren't for his grip on me and my fatigue, I would have pushed him away just enough for me to see his face.

I furrow my brow and contemplate what I could say to him in response. Just to ease the pain in his voice a touch because I did love him that much.

But...

"I hate me too..." he adds on, squeezing me again.

Changkyun turns his face so that that his nose brushes against my nape and his shuddering breath against my skin makes me shiver.

He cries there for a moment and the weakened tone of his light sobs pull me down into the abyss with him. I say nothing though. Knowing anything I could say would either sound patronizing or enabling.

Or a like a lie.

And I just couldn't do it anymore.

But God Dammit if it didn't hurt.

"I'm sorry." He whipsers after his silence sets a pause in his tears. The words sound painful for him to say and for some reason, my heart ached.

This changed nothing. He was still who he was and so was I. As much as we loved each other, it would never be enough.

"Me too. " Is all I can manage to say and I tangle my fingers in the sweat-damp hair at his nape, stroking his scalp with my fingertips soothingly as we both lay motionless.

Still connected in the only way we could be.

🥵

#monsta x smut #changkyun #changkyun smut #jooheon #wonho #hyungwon #minhyuk #kihyun #hyunwoo #shownu #monsta x #monsta x fanfic #monsta x imagines #monsta x changkyun

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biffhofosho · 2 years ago

Text

Prisoner to Temptation | Chapter Eight

Word Count: 11.3k

A/N: >.>

Your Honor, I’m in love with jealous Hyungwon.

Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12

Right on schedule, the princess’s monthlies came, and as it always did in a palace, news traveled quickly when other people did the laundry. Whispers trailed behind her down every corridor like a veil of her failure.

“She’s not that young.”

“And she’s only getting older.”

“Poor Prince Hyungwon. We should go to him.”

“Somebody has to.”

Naran kept her chin up. They were being ridiculous. It was unrealistic to expect results so soon. They were just jealous. Or bored. Or both.

She could think of a thousand reasons why everyone wanted to bring her down, but the truth was, none of that mattered. A princess had one job, and she had not accomplished it. It wasn’t like Naran was in a hurry to be a mother, but it also meant that certain expectations still had to be met this coming month.

For his part, the prince said nothing of the talk of the palace. He showed up at her door one night seemingly none the wiser, and with how needy she always felt around her monthlies, Naran nearly invited him in. In the end though, she begged him to postpone their visit until later in the week and spent a very restless night staring at the ceiling instead. For the next few days, the princess managed as much time away from the prince as she could because she simply didn’t trust herself around his pretty face and his witty conversation.

But if the sexual moratorium had taught Naran anything, it was that without Prince Hyungwon’s special attention, life in the palace wasn’t just frustrating—it was dull. She had always known she was not cut out for the role of princess, but actually having to fulfill the public duties of her position could not have been more tedious. Without an outlet, she felt like a lightning bolt ready to charge at the easiest target.

That very morning, she found herself outside her husband’s door, hoping for the grace to ask for some of his time that night without sounding as desperate as she was, only to be startled by his voice behind her.

“Looking for me?”

“My lord!”

Hyungwon smiled with his head cocked to the side as though he were studying a never-before-seen creature.

“Yes—no! I was just going to check your schedule today—to make sure you didn’t mind if I took a ride out in the pasture.”

“When have I ever minded that?”

Naran narrowed her eyes at his amused tone. “Okay then. I guess it won’t be a problem…”

“Nope.” He was still smiling, and the princess was growing more frustrated by the second. “Is that all, my lady?”

“I—”

Just then, Hansol entered the sitting room but stopped when he found the couple huddled near the prince’s door. With a deep bow, he said, “Pardon me, Your Highnesses. I just wanted to see if you needed any help with your trunks, Your Grace.”

“Trunks?” Naran asked, looking back to her husband.

Hyungwon nodded sheepishly. “Father demands I call on my uncle in Jemulpo, but I shall be back in three nights’ time.”

“Three nights?”

The words echoed in the cavern of the room. Just the thought made her heart sink to the soles of her feet. She was already overwrought, and now she had no outlet for at least three more nights?

“You weren’t going to tell me?” the princess pouted.

“That’s why I’m here. My father just received the request from my uncle, so I am to leave at once. I wanted to go as fast as possible if only to get back all the quicker. I do not like being away from home.” Hyungwon stared at her then, his bottom lip finding its way further under his teeth with each passing second. “Did you need something before I go?”

With a heavy sigh, Naran shook her head. “It can wait, my lord. I hope you have an easy trip.”

The prince sighed, too, but bowed all the same. When he came back up, he stole a kiss of her cheek and whispered, “Wait for me until then.”

Naran didn’t stand around to watch her husband pack. She was anxious enough as it were. Watching him toss things around in his room instead of tossing her around would have been too maddening. Instead, she lived up to her lie and took a long ride on her horse out to the edge of the pastures and then completed an even longer route around the rim of the property. She had hoped she would come back to the palace exhausted, and she did—just not the way she needed.

It all would have been so much easier if the prince were not a talented lover, but since he was, it made it incredibly difficult for Naran to find satisfaction elsewhere. Her tried-and-true methods of self-pleasure were failing. Every time she came close to release, it eluded her, which had never been a problem before. She simply could not bring herself over the edge, and it was spilling over into her days, too.

She was snippy with the empress, snippier yet with the servants, especially with the male ones. Even if the notion to dally with one of them struck her, the moment Naran looked into their eyes, the mood soured. They would be eager to please, she had no doubt, and more than a few of them were probably up to the task, but the thought of having her time wasted on the ones who couldn’t keep up squashed the inclination. She already knew someone capable of doing a proper job, and he was leagues away at the moment.

It was on the fourth day of frustrations that Naran sat with Magda in the tea lounge, silently drowning her sorrows into a cup of jujube tea before another servant came in with a tray with a letter on it. At this, the princess sat up straight.

“Word from the Prince?” she asked.

The servant, a slender thing with a bright white face like a peony but eyes like daggers, bowed and said, “No, Your Grace. I believe the courier said it is a letter from your family.”

Normally, that would have perked the princess right up, but instead, she slumped a bit into her chair as she opened the envelope to read it while Magda looked on, sipping her own tea.

The letter turned out to be from Saran, just an update from the road home as they journeyed back through the Goryeon mountains. It was full of her sister’s teenage fantasies about being swept away by lonely mountain gods or bandits who would have a change of heart as soon as their eyes fell on her. It would have been charming if the images hadn’t been obviously colored with shades of the royal wedding the girl had just attended. Naran had a sinking feeling now that her sister would marry the first suitor she met when she came of age and make an ill-fated match because of it.

And of course, the end of the letter spent over a paragraph sending love to her “new brother” and entreating his promise to take “very good care” of her big sister. It should have been sweet. Instead, it chafed.

Naran dropped the letter onto the table and shifted her gaze down the hallway to watch the busy palace staff go about their mornings.

“Everything all right with Their Majesties?” Magda asked at length.

The princess shrugged a shoulder. “So Saran says. The trip has been easy, I guess.”

Naran returned her attention to her tea, watching the way the little dried fruit bobbed at the bottom of the cup without a care in the world.

“Your Grace!”

Her head shot up to find her old friend’s eyes wide to the whites. Naran frowned. “What is so urgent?”

“I’ve been talking to you for over a minute. Did you not hear me?”

The princess pursed her lips. “I did not.”

At the lady’s admission, Magda smirked. “I was talking of His Highness, Prince Hyungwon. It should be good to see him again, wouldn’t you say? I find the palace rather quiet without him.”

“Not that he says much to begin with,” Naran deflected.

“I must be honest. I have been a bit surprised at how much time you have spent with Prince Hyungwon since we’ve arrived considering all the blustering you did on the way here.”

“You’re exaggerating,” the princess admonished with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve avoided him wherever possible.”

“I think you’ve spent far more time together than you realize, My Lady.”

“And who else shall I spend it with, hm? I only know you and him, Magda.”

The attendant brought her tea to her lips and took a long sip. When she pulled it back, she was smiling with the same wan curve as her cup. “I don’t just mean during the day.”

Naran felt itchy under the collar of her hanbok.

“Now, I know you’re exaggerating just to annoy me. It’s only been twice. And a half,” she mumbled as an afterthought. “Besides, we are still newlyweds. Expectations are high, and I still need to prove my worth to the emperor. And anyway, it’s getting colder at night, so, naturally, it’s easier to stay warmer. Plus—”

Magda’s smile broadened.

“Oh, what?” snapped the princess.

“Nothing. It’s just, I made a simple observation. You seem to be mounting several arguments on why it’s been twice. And a half.”

Magda was vibrating with laughter and Naran growled. “I should have left you in Urga.”

“Either way, My Lady, might I make a suggestion?”

The princess cocked her head as she listened.

“I think you should find some little way to make a positive impression with the servants here,” said Magda.

“How do you mean? Hansol and I get along very well already.”

The older woman shook her head lightly. “No, Your Highness, I mean the other ladies of the palace. There have been… rumblings of late.”

“Rumblings?”

Magda’s face tightened a bit, and with it, a little pinkness capped her warm tan. “It seems more than a few of the serving lasses have remarked on a strong change in the Prince’s interactions with them.”

“How do you mean? Is he scolding them?”

“No, My Lady. I know you know perfectly well what I mean.”

Naran’s heart thundered in her throat. Sex. She meant sex. For a moment, the princess had the awful urge to run out of the room with her fingers in her ears, but she soldiered on. Her voice shook as she asked, “Is he being too aggressive with them then?”

“No. No. It seems he does not pay them much attention these days, and it has caused some… resentment, particularly toward Her Ladyship.”

“Oh.” Naran bit her lip as she tried to hide the creep of a smile. “Oh?”

“You should be more concerned about this, My Lady.”

“It is the prince’s choice with whom he elects to spend his time. We have an agreement he can do what he wants with whomever he wants,” said the princess, though she found it a bit tougher these days to say that and mean it.

“These women are the ones charged with taking care of you, Your Highness. If you don’t nip this in the bud, these sorts of things can get out of control.”

Naran scowled then, her sudden burst of good mood thoroughly rained upon. “Well, what do you suggest, Magda? Shall I check out my husband to them like a library book?”

Now, it was Magda’s turn to scowl. “I said nothing of the sort, and I will thank you not to be crass with me. I suggest you build some rapport with them. Do not make yourself any more of a threat than you already are. Treat them to something nice or spend some time with them.”

Naran rolled her eyes. “This all sounds like work.”

“You are a princess, are you not? That title sounds like a job to me after all.”

“I hate when you’re right.”

“You mean always?” Magda retorted.

As much as it chapped that Naran was being asked to coddle her husband’s paramours, it did beat having her food spat in or other such petty sabotages—or, worse, having her staff actually prey on her husband behind her back.

With nothing else to occupy her overworked mind and no word on the prince’s anticipated return, the princess made it her mission to invite a few of her most vocal dissidents to dine with her in the Secret Garden, which servants rarely had permission to see. Needless to say, the serving lasses were floored by the invitation, but being a request from the Princess Supreme herself made it impossible to turn it down.

They made a sweet table in one of the pavilions next to the stream. The music of the water was already romantic, especially when leaves drifted down to become boats on the current, but Magda, to her brilliant credit, had primed the atmosphere with even more romance thanks to the devious addition of an all-male waitstaff comprised of the most handsome servants the palace had to offer. If the ladies weren’t already pink-cheeked from the dashing faces waiting on them, the cups of wine ensured it.

By second course, the lasses were willing to laugh at anything the princess said. Gone was any potential resentment as Naran called for treat after treat and glass after glass, and eager-to-please men came to flirt with the chatty women. Everything was going exactly to plan.

For a while.

Naran and one of the long-haired, easy-smiling servers were mid-passionate argument over who was the better rider, his friend in the Royal Guards or her, when all her progress was chucked right into the creek.

“Princess.”

Everyone’s heads snapped toward the pavilion entrance to find Prince Hyungwon standing rigid and narrow-eyed. The spells the ladies had been under broke the instant their eyes fell onto his stunning face, flushed with the exercise from climbing the hill, and the other men were forgotten in an instant. It was impossible to deny the way even the princess’s own body reacted to the sight of him.

The server Naran had been arguing with leapt to attention, practically breaking his back when he jerked up from his cool lean on the banister. Everyone but the princess bowed to the prince while she let out a defeated sigh. So much for defending her role…

“What can we do for you, your grace?” Naran simpered.

“You are needed back at the palace at once.”

His voice was cold, and it prompted her tongue to prod at the inside of her cheek. “We have almost finished with our picnic—”

“I said ‘at once,’” Hyungwon repeated. His gaze flicked to the server over her shoulder and then back to her face.

Naran’s eye twitched. It felt very much like a standoff, but if she abandoned the ladies so quickly, they could resent her again, and if she balked at the prince’s authority, she would undermine him. Heaven and earth, she was tired of politics. It was moments like these that she most missed her freedom to simply charge to the stables and ride off into the steppe until her temper had cooled.

The princess took a sip of wine and let out a long breath. “Very well, my lord. Let us finish up this course as it is nearly over. The chefs did take an awful lot of time and expense to treat our staff so well today, wouldn’t you agree?”

Hyungwon was quiet. She could see the storm in his eyes even from her seat on the floor, but he nodded all the same.

“You are welcome to return—”

“I shall wait,” he asserted and took up a post across from the entrance, propping himself on a large rock and watching his wife’s every move.

Naran dug her nails into the skirt of her coat as she did her damnedest to avoid his gaze, but it was next to impossible when he sported his burgundy dallryung, for his dark features and warm skin always looked most striking contrasted in rich reds.

Gritting her teeth, she said to her audience, “Eat up, my dear ladies. Our picnic might have come to an end sooner than expected, but let us not let these delights go to waste.”

The serving lasses obliged, but conversation had come to a standstill and all the heart was out of the party. Whatever goodwill Naran had built washed downstream, especially when she rose and headed over to her husband, who insisted on offering his arm for their walk back to the palace.

“You ruined everything, you know,” she hissed as they walked, tethered to one another, back down the hillside.

“I could see that…” he said tightly. “Why are you eating with servants anyway?”

“Because of you, sire.”

Hyungwon glared at her then, but Naran met it back.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Evidently, you haven’t been… visiting your regulars, and grudges are forming.”

“Ah… Oh.” The prince’s lips pursed as his ears reddened.

“Yes, oh. This was my attempt to get back into their good graces, by offering other options, you see?”

At this, however, his eyes snapped to hers. “For them or for you?”

Naran glowered at him. “We’ve talked about this, my lord, remember?”

“I’ve only been gone three nights. Did you really feel the need to move on so urgently?”

“I—” the princess was stunned by what she could only call hurt etched into the corners of the prince’s eyes. But all too soon, it gave way to indignance. “You have no right to complain. After all, I was only cleaning up the mess you left me. Now, why am I being summoned in the middle of an event I put on?”

Judging by his grip on her arm, Hyungwon did not appreciate the shift in discussion, but he answered, “The palace has received some unexpected guests, and as my father and mother are still detained in town by the Ministers, we are obligated to host them for the evening.”

“Obligations, obligations. I’m sick of that word,” Naran griped. “I was already hosting something.”

“Well, now, you can host two things, only this one will include your husband.”

“I didn’t want to include you.”

Hyungwon pulled her to a stop then underneath a thick cluster of trees. The leaves were starting to redden at their tips, leaving the shadows more vibrant than usual as he pushed her back to the edge of the path where they were less likely to be seen arguing.

“That is painfully obvious,” he said. “Honestly, has your taste descended so far to the depths of Cho Daejung?”

“Who?”

Hyungwon shook his head. “You don’t even know the name of the man you were flirting with?”

“I wasn’t flirting with anyone, your grace,” Naran insisted.

The prince took a step closer and then another, forcing the princess back until her spine collided with a trunk. A shower of leaves rained down around them as his face drew far too near for the comfort of her wine-addled mind. Though Naran was no lightweight, she felt the alcohol burning through her then, stealing what little control her conscious mind ever had from staring at his lips.

“You were talking this close,” Hyungwon asserted. “How is that not flirting?”

“We were not!” the princess objected. She was right, wasn’t she? The servant would not have been so bold in front of all those others, she was sure of it. “We were arguing about who was the better rider.”

The prince moved in even further as his voice dropped lower. “That is our thing.”

We have a thing? Naran marveled.

Hyungwon’s chest collided with hers, and the breath left her lungs. His hands found her hips now, and she felt her pulse jumping in her throat. His gaze would not let up on hers as it burned to communicate something more than his limited words ever could.

“I swear,” Naran managed through short, tight breaths, “nothing happened. I’m not interested in that man.”

“You’re not?”

She felt his fingers dig in even through the thick fabric of her coat.

“I’m not. I don’t even know him. And anyway, he doesn’t excite me.”

At this, Hyungwon raised an eyebrow. “Who does then?”

Just then, the service bell clanged down below at the palace, summoning all staff to duty. The couple broke apart, which was just as well as the voices of the rest of the party were already tumbling down the hill behind them.

“Come on,” said the prince. “We best get back.”

Hyungwon grabbed her hand and dragged Naran down the hill before the servants could crest it. His pace was unforgiving, and the princess struggled to keep up as his legs were much longer and his anger much hotter than hers. By the time the pair had reached their wing, she was breathless and a little lightheaded. When the prince threw open the doors to the sitting room, Magda nearly dropped the box she was holding.

“Your Highnesses!” she exclaimed. “Is everything all right?”

“Just fine, Magda,” answered Hyungwon curtly as he continued to tow his wife into the room.

“I did not hear you were back, Your Grace,” the attendant said with a deep bow.

“That makes two of you then. If you wouldn’t mind, please leave that in your lady’s room and help the staff ready for the guests’ arrival.”

Magda reeled back. “But won’t My Lady require me to—”

“Should she need you, she will summon you,” he replied. “Our guests should be arriving any moment, Magda.”

Naran looked helplessly at her attendant, who was more astonished than anything, but the resolve in the prince’s voice could not be challenged, and so Magda did as she’d been ordered and shut the main doors behind her.

Hyungwon dropped the princess’s hand at last and immediately whisked off the silk belt about his waist as he headed toward his bedroom door. Over his shoulder he said, “Wear what I bought you to dinner tonight.”

“You bought me—”

But the prince cut her off with a gruff, “It’s on your bed.”

His door closed a second later, and Naran was left dumbfounded in the gulf of space between them. With nothing else to do, she fell back on ritual and headed to her room. There on her bed was the box Magda had been holding. It was large, bound up with a fanciful satin ribbon that looked too pretty to unravel though she had no choice. Her fingers worked through shimmery emerald curls as the fabric puddled all at once to the bed.

Naran lifted the lid, and once it was off, a bloom of iris burst into the room so powerful that the princess felt like she was wandering the gardens again. Folded inside on a cushion of silk and tied again with another satin ribbon was a gown, more art than garment, she thought, though it wasn’t until she’d pulled it out that she understood how exquisite it truly was.

Made of the most divine Indian muslin, the skirt swished as it tumbled, flowing more like water than fabric. It was the color of a full-body blush, embroidered with jubilant golden bouquets along the hem and accented along the top in gold as well. Ruched sleeves capped the shoulders to leave the arms bare while the neckline dazzled in ways unlike anything Naran had ever worn. More in the risqué style of the Brittans, it plunged between the breasts all the way to the empire waist while the back risked a deeper exposure to the dip of the small of the spine.

Swallowing hard, she undressed and slipped into the breathy luxury of spun cotton. It was tight around the ribs, and with the hug of the sleeves, it took the princess a long minute of wriggling to put it on without help. After a life in heavy wools and furs, it felt like wearing a breeze. The bodice cupped her breasts like hands while the skirt fled from her hips as though it resented the notion of touching skin.

The princess stood in front of her looking glass. A woman looked back at her that she barely recognized. Her coal black hair tumbled down her back to cover the deep V, but even then, it was more skin than Naran had ever shown. The pale pink of the gown enhanced the freckles on her caramel skin, and though it should have made her the picture of innocence, the cut of the neckline negated it immediately. Her collarbone flared proudly as she eyed herself from side to side. The chest needed a few stitches to fit her figure more snugly, and if she turned too much, the pillows of her breasts could flash in full. But she liked it. She liked how powerful she felt in it. She liked how enticing she looked.

There was a quick double-knock at the door, and Naran announced thoughtlessly, “Come in.”

She expected Magda. Instead, she found her husband.

“Are you almost ready?” His words were out before his mind caught up to the image of his wife.

Hyungwon froze in the door frame. Naran, too, could not wrench her eyes from him.

It had been months since she’d seen him in a Western style, and even though Naran had many things imprinted on her mind from the night of their engagement, she did not remember him even then looking as aggressively handsome as he did now.

The prince wore a billowing white blouse, and when his arms moved, the sleeves puffed like a bird about to take flight. Most likely, the long ties around the collar were intended as a cravat, but Hyungwon did not wear them that way; instead, they were knotted loosely, a bit like he was planning on getting undressed rather than hosting company. His black trousers fit rather tightly to his legs, elongating an already enormous man, and making matters most problematic for her, he wore polished black boots to his knees. Her husband looked just as capable of charging to the front lines on horseback as he did captaining a great ship with one leg propped on a storm-battered prow.

“You look exactly as I dreamed you’d look in this,” said Hyungwon.

“Thank you.” Naran lowered her eyes to her neckline. “Maybe it should be tailored first though before I wear it.”

“It’s perfect the way it is.”

His eyes were smoky and distant, almost as though the man she had married had been locked away somewhere inside while some shadowy predator roamed around unrestrained.

“I—I think this dress might scandalize your guests, sire.”

“They’re Westerners, and this is in the Western style. I thought it might make them feel welcome, but perhaps it is the wrong kind of welcome.”

Naran bit her lip. “Perhaps I need a chemise underneath?”

His eyes fell to the heart-shaped neckline plunging between her breasts, but all the prince could do was nod.

“But Magda has gone to finalize arrangements, and I can’t get out of this ridiculous thing without her help,” she grumbled. “Whoever thought of clothes you can’t take off yourself. Positively idiotic.”

Hyungwon cleared his throat softly and stepped closer. “Shall I help you, my lady?”

“Didn’t you say the guests should be here by now? I’m sure you should be there to receive them…”

“I’m sure I should…”

Naran wet her lips.

“If you have a moment then, my lord, before you leave, I would appreciate the help.”

Hyungwon closed the door behind him as he approached. The princess presented her back to him. She put her arms up and waited, but instead of lifting the dress over her head, the prince grabbed her wrists and lowered them back to her side.

“Do you like it?” he rasped into her hair. “They had so many exotic things in Jemulpo, but only this one was made just for my princess. It came all the way from Brittany just to adorn these lovely curves.”

His hand circled Naran’s neck, his middle finger stroking the skin there, before it slipped to the wells at her collar bone. The lower he went, the rougher his breathing grew. Finally, his fingers slipped under her neckline as he grabbed a handful of her breast. There was a roughness in his grip she’d never experienced from him before, a hungrier need demanding satisfaction.

“My prince,” Naran said raggedly, “we don’t have time—”

Hyungwon cut her off with a playful pinch of her nipple as he mouthed along her neck. “Time? All I can think about is how much time you’ve made me stay away from you. It’s been over a week since I’ve touched you, my darling. That’s too cruel.”

The prince rolled her nipple between his fingers as her chest thrust out against the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Sire—ah! The guests—”

“There’s no way I can greet them like this. They’ll see how hard I am for you. I need you, Naran.”

As if to underscore his point, Hyungwon grazed his hips against her backside, and the princess felt the unmistakable jut of her husband’s erection.

“No time…” she protested weakly.

“You’re not really going to make me wait any longer, are you? Do you hate me that much?” As he spoke, Hyungwon removed his hand from her bodice to hike the skirt of her dress roughly up her legs until he could grab a handful of her ass and elicit a yelp of pleasure from her.

His hot, wet breath panted along her ear as he said, “If I put my fingers inside you right now, would I find you soaked for me?”

“Please don’t say these things,” she whimpered.

“I thought you liked it when I talked, princess?”

“S-so much…”

“Then answer my question.” Hyungwon kneaded the supple flesh at her hips as he purred, “Would I find you soaked for me?”

This time, the princess let out a little cry. “Yes! Yes, sire.”

Hyungwon kissed the side of her face for a job well done, and Naran melted into it. In the sunlight, his face always looked soft and friendly, but here in the diffused twilight of her bedroom, shadows contoured his cheeks and jaw. When his eyes locked on hers in the mirror, they were resolute.

“You’re always tempting me, always asking things of me, and I can’t say no to you, darling. I can’t say no.”

There were more kisses now, at her jaw and ear and throat until he covered the newly bared skin along her shoulder.

“Didn't you miss me at all?” he pressed. “I missed you. Tell me you didn't let anyone else into your bed. Tell me it's still only me. Even if it's not true.”

Don't say it, Naran warned herself. It's a mistake.

“It's only you, my prince.”

Hyungwon groaned. As though he could read the flutters in her breath as well as words themselves, he added, “Maybe it's because I'm used to getting everything I want, but I like to know what’s mine and mine alone.”

It's just pillow talk, her frantic mind justified. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

And yet, the other part of her refused to be appeased. Put a stop to this now, you fool!

“My prince…”

His chin was on her shoulder, his eyes meeting hers in the looking glass. Hyungwon shifted her skirt in his grip to bare her core and the ghostly vestiges of his brands on her thighs. With his whole hand, he cupped her eager sex.

“This,” he murmured as his middle finger coaxed her seam, “is mine.”

Naran’s hand flew to his, not sure if she was intent on starting things or stopping them.

“Darling,” said the prince with a laugh darkening his tone, “you are soaked.”

He teased the sweet button there with his fingertip, and all his wife could do now was tremble in his arms.

“I missed this,” Naran confessed as her head tipped back against his chest.

“What did you miss, beautiful?”

“Your attention!” she gasped as he circled a stroke faster.

“You can have as much of it as you want. I promise I will make you feel good again. All you have to do,” he whispered as a finger seated itself just outside her entrance, “is let me.”

Naran tore her face from the reflection of her husband to the man himself. He met her gaze there, their lips far too close for her wavering willpower. Would it be so bad to give in? What could it really hurt if she allowed his lips to touch hers? They had been everywhere else on her body already anyway.

Where was the harm in a single kiss?

A knock—more like a pounding—at the door tore them apart at once.

“Your Highness,” said an unfamiliar lady’s voice, “are you ready? Your visitors arrived twenty minutes ago, and no one but your staff has greeted them.”

There was a clear barb in the servant’s tone, but it disappeared when the prince’s stern face confronted the petite woman on the other side of the door.

“Oh, my god—Your Highness!” said Hayun, the peony-faced girl who had brought Saran’s letter that morning. She had also been at the picnic as Magda had singled her out as Naran’s biggest detractor, and for a short while, the princess had thought she’d been successful in swaying the woman’s attentions to one of the male servants, but from the shimmering look in the maid’s black eyes, all hope of redirection was lost.

“Servants do not bang on royal doors, miss,” the prince admonished with ferocity. “If you have not learned that by now, perhaps we can move your post to the chickenyard where you can crow to your heart’s content.”

Hayun stood there on the verge of tears before she gathered what was left of her pride to bow and slink out of the wing.

Naran stood bewildered in the middle of her room. Her hair was disheveled and her brand-new gown askance. Worse yet, her lips were throbbing from unfulfilled promise. But it was for the best.

In the end, she had to be grateful for Hayun’s disruption; otherwise, she would have to reconcile the fact that in a few short weeks, she had been willing to give up her dreams for something that was, at its heart, merely contractual marital sex. Naran would not be the same sort of pitiful princess that had haunted these palace halls for centuries. She was determined to be more than a womb and an outlet for a prince.

“We’d best get going, sire,” she said as she hastily twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with a jade hairpin. “Everyone is obviously anxious.”

Hyungwon sighed but nodded. “There’s a shawl at the bottom of the box so you don’t get cold.”

Naran grabbed it and wrapped it around her shoulders. It wasn’t as warm as a hanbok, but at least it gave her some security as she walked next to her husband on their way to the Receiving Hall.

Hoping for a safe topic of conversation, Naran asked, “Who are these visitors anyway that they can just disrupt an empire unannounced?”

“They are traders from Wessex,” said the prince, “or so the story goes. They have already visited nine of the East Sea realms.”

“Which just leaves Goryeo as number ten…” the princess mused. “Is that unusual for traders who have already come this far out of the West? Surely, they want to return home with as many trappings as they can to make it worth the harrowing trip.”

“That would be true if it weren’t for the fact that our empires already trade freely amongst each other. A simple trip to either Tuen Mun or Bombay would have stocked a ship with goods from all ten empires alone.”

“So, what are you thinking then? Spies?”

“Would it be the first time the West has come to the East looking to do more than trade?”

Naran shrugged her mouth, understanding her husband perfectly. She was to be on her guard with the traders, but at the same time, she couldn’t quell the rise of curiosity surging through her. She had occasion to meet Westerners beyond the usual royals she endured before as overland traders following the Silk Road would sometimes stop at Urga to curry favor with the khan, but she was never allowed to sit with them, her mother far too nervous that the princess might stow away in a caravan if given the opportunity—which probably wasn’t far off. There were few things as titillating as life on the open road, but she wasn’t so sure the same was true of the open sea. Naran had never seen the ocean, and the thought of not having land under her feet was terrifying if also intriguing.

“Are you all right?” Hyungwon asked suddenly, shaking her from her thoughts.

“Yes, of course.”

He squinted at her as though he were trying to read her mind but gave up as they reached the doors to the Receiving Hall.

“Just stay by my side,” he whispered. “Be circumspect. If they ask you a question that makes you uncomfortable, you do not need to answer for the sake of decorum. I’d prefer if they left sooner rather than later anyway…”

Hyungwon looked at his wife again, this time with a much coarser emotion in his eyes, and somehow, it felt like his hand was back under her dress again.

Just then, the doors to the hall opened to reveal two white men chatting in the middle of the large and lavishly-appointed room while several servants, including Magda, Hansol, and a red-faced Hayun, waited like statues along the heavily decorated walls. A spread of tea and appetizers covered the table in the center though the guests had not touched them.

As soon as Hansol saw the royal couple, he proclaimed, “Presenting His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Hyungwon and his wife, the Princess Supreme Narangerel.”

The strangers hurried to stand and bow to their hosts, and when they rose, the one with copper hair and a matching beard met the princess’s eyes. The way he looked at her made Naran feel like he knew her. Even as his gray-haired compatriot introduced the pair of them as sailor emissaries from the island nation of Wessex, the redhead stared at her with a strange sort of smile.

“Come, Connor, quit your lollygagging. You’ll make Her Highness uncomfortable in her own home,” reprimanded the elder sailor. “I beg you, Your Highness, please forgive my first mate. He has been at sea for far too long and forgotten all his manners, it seems.”

“It’s quite all right,” Naran assured, though she couldn't shake the intensity of the younger sailor’s eyes.

Neither, it seemed, could her husband as Hyungwon laced his fingers through hers and led her to the couch across from their guests.

For a minute, nobody seemed to know what to say. Naran had yet to really see her husband lead acts of state, but judging by his ramrod straight back and firmly set lips, he was uneasy. For their part, the sailors looked confused, and the princess wondered at the sorts of welcomes they might have received in other kingdoms. Perhaps they were not accustomed to having to lead conversations with royals, and it seemed the prince wasn’t interested in making it easy for them.

“Thank you for accommodating a pair of lowly traders on such short notice,” said the gray-haired man with an awkward smile. “I am Captain Elliot Witherspoon of the HMS Psyche, and this is my first mate Connor McCarthy. We have been traveling the East Seas at His Majesty King Edward’s behest on a mission of goodwill between kingdoms. It is His Majesty’s hope that East and West might strengthen diplomatic relations through trade, particularly with the Empire of Goryeo as trade has been scarce between our nations for years. Last time we sailed into Namgyeong, Emperor Gongmin was very resistant to such a plan unless the other Eastern realms entered into such trade routes first.”

Hyungwon hummed. “And it seems they have, have they?”

“Indeed, Your Highness.”

The prince did not respond, and the sailors looked amongst each other as they regrouped. “Will the Emperor and Empress be joining us this evening to hear such good news?”

“I’m afraid not,” said the prince. “They are away from the palace on business this evening.”

“No doubt they are very busy running an empire as powerful as Goryeo. Even in the West, the might of your realm is often spoken of.”

Hyungwon just smiled wanly.

The captain looked to his first mate, but the redhead was fixated on the princess.

“I hear,” said Captain Witherspoon, “that congratulations are in order. Your wedding is the talk of the Eastern realms.”

“Is it?” Hyungwon asked flatly.

“In one way or another,” laughed the captain, “particularly in Champa.”

“I’ll bet it is,” Naran retorted and did her best to hide her smirk.

Captain Witherspoon turned his attention to the princess as he asked, “How have you adjusted to life in Goryeo, Your Highness?”

“It’s a beautiful country, certainly not like any place I’ve ever seen.”

“Have you had occasion to visit the city?”

“A bit for the wedding and once for a festival, but, regrettably, not as much as I should like.”

The captain folded his hands in his lap and sat back as silence filled the space. Naran glanced at the prince, but Hyungwon did not offer any conversation despite his insistence that they host these people.

“I confess, Captain,” she said since no one else seemed to know what to say at this point, “I do not know much of the Western empires. Is life there much different from the Eastern empires you’ve visited?”

“The West is fonder of castles rather than palaces perhaps, and the roads are more likely to be paved, but the lands aren’t nearly so vast, and the people are a great deal more interested in each other’s business because of it. That said, people are people everywhere you go.”

“Is that so?” she said. “Still, I should like to see that.”

“Indeed, you would,” interjected the first mate. “Indeed, you would…”

Captain Witherspoon glared at Connor before he turned back to the royal couple and said, “You know, Your Highnesses, we have been hosted in many great houses on this trip, but this is the first time we’ve been greeted in costumes of our homeland. I confess, it’s a rather welcome sight after so long at sea.”

“And how long have you been away from home?” Naran asked.

“These eight months.”

“Eight months! How long shall it take you to get back?”

“Another four or more. Depends on the seas. It’s not a life for everyone, that’s for sure,” said the captain.

“But for those of us who get restless staying in one place, it’s rather a dream life,” Connor added, eyes boring into Naran’s. She didn’t understand why the man kept looking at her like that, but it made her feel rather naked though not in the same way the Western gown did.

Captain Witherspoon pursed his weathered lips before he relented and took a cup of tea. At first taste, he raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You know, tea is different in just about every country we’ve visited. Isn’t that rather funny?”

“As is the alcohol,” Connor echoed. “So much to sample at every port…”

“To that end, Your Highness,” said the captain, finally turning his attention back to the prince, who had barely said a word in the last several minutes, “if you don’t mind, I should like to bend your ear for a bit on this matter of trade.”

Hyungwon looked as much a statue as his servants. Naran stole a glance at him but found that his attention was frozen on her, not either of the guests he’d insisted on hosting. There was longing in his eyes—there was no other word for it—and it made her mouth very dry. She dove for a cup of tea as well, and once she’d had her wits back about her, she said, “As you would like to discuss business, I will show Mr. McCarthy the artwork in the meantime.”

Her husband looked at her as though she couldn’t have said anything more offensive in the moment, but she was tired of doing all the work of this stupid party that he had forced upon her anyway. In spite of his frantic look, she excused herself and headed toward a portrait at the far corner of the room nearest Magda, hoping to draw some strength and sensibility from her dearest friend.

Connor followed eagerly. He did not bother with food or drink, just met her stride for stride as he fluffed out his beard. He faced her full-on now, no interest at all in the stern-faced emperor who sat squat on his throne in the painting.

“I have never met a Moghul before,” blurted the sailor as he studied the princess. “You’re a very exotic thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid my good sir has me confused, for I am not a thing at all,” Naran challenged, “but a woman.”

“Ay, and what a woman you are! One of a kind, I should say. You’re an adventurer, Princess Narangerel. What on earth are you doing in a palace of all places?”

At this, the princess turned her attention from the portrait to the man beside her. “An adventurer? What makes you say that?”

The redhead shrugged playfully, a smile splitting his beard. “I, too, am an adventurer, Your Highness. I can see it in you.”

“Is that why you look at me like you know me?”

“Ay, I do. You’ve got the restless eyes and the itchy feet. It’s why you can’t sit still for more than a few minutes. Your tapping foot is a perfect match to my own.”

Naran stood to her full height and stomped down her relentless urge to fidget. “I feel there are many like me back in my homeland, sir. I am not this rare breed you make me out to be. You may be well-traveled but perhaps not where it counts.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. His skin had been leathered by the ruthless sun, which made his bright hair all the brighter, especially his bushy eyebrows, and when he laughed, he looked like the merriest man she’d ever seen. She wondered if there was anything that didn’t amuse a man like him. “If that’s true, then maybe there’s a woman out there for me yet.”

The silly thought rushed through her mind that, if things had been different, if she were still in Moghulikhan, she might have passed a night with the man. He wasn’t nearly so handsome as her husband, to be sure, but Connor was bold and interesting, and it occurred to Naran that perhaps her mother had been right to fear Western men because she could see how she might be spirited away by his wanderlust.

But then her eyes slid back to Hyungwon, who was looking at the sea captain exactly as he had the many eligible bachelorettes the night the couple had met—with indifference. Sitting there with one booted leg crossed over the other and looking more like a pirate king than an emperor, he was magnificent. Maybe she was just strung out from their ruined encounter earlier or maybe it was the compounding of all the days she’d been without him before that, but thoughts of running anywhere but to him seemed impossible in the moment.

“There’s certainly no hope for me in Champa, I will tell you that,” continued the first mate, clearly unaware of her stampede of pained thoughts. “Would it come as a surprise to Her Highness that the name Moghulikhan leaves a sour taste in the royal palace?”

In her mind’s eye, Naran saw a flash of silver liquor dripping from the edge of a desk followed by the flash of her husband’s eyes staring up at her between her legs, and her breath quickened. She took a page out of Hyungwon’s book and stood tall as she faced her guest. “You might be sailors, good sir, but I think you’re doing a bit more like fishing.”

Connor laughed. “Ay, anything is possible. We have visited many realms, Your Highness, but I must say, East or West, I have never seen a royal lady so engaged with our discussions.”

“I'm sure the ladies were engaged enough but maybe not at the liberty to show you. I have never been one to be concerned with appearances, however, Mr. McCarthy.”

“Now, see, I knew I was right about you. So, how does a free spirit like Her Highness find herself as Princess Supreme of a country all about appearances?”

“Happy chance,” she said with a hollow smile, but the canny sailor saw right through it.

“A victim of your station, I take it.”

“I never said that, sir.”

“You don’t need to. When you’ve been out on the open ocean as long as I have, you can read a swell before it breaks over you. Even the calmest seas hide their true devastation. Have you ever been on the sea, Princess?”

Naran’s heart unexpectedly shook. She barely remembered how to answer as she said, “I haven’t, no. My homeland is surrounded only by land.”

Connor leaned against the wall, nearly on the painting, which had Hansol lurching forward in case of emergency, but the Wessex man was totally unbothered. “If you like, I can show you to the harbor tomorrow and take you for a spin on my vessel.”

“She’s busy tomorrow,” interrupted Prince Hyungwon, who had materialized by his wife’s side looking at least a head taller than she remembered. The prince looked to the sailor with a face blank of all emotion, and it left a heavy lump in the basin of her belly. “Please, sir, if you would rejoin us.”

Hyungwon took his wife’s hand again and led her back to the couch, and this time when they sat, he sat flush against her. His hand stayed tangled up with hers before she shook it away with a tight smile for her guests. At length, the sailors began enumerating all the ports along the Wu empire they had had the pleasure of visiting while detailing all the wonders they encountered there, but Naran could not hear any of them because the prince had laid a hand just above her knee now. She did her best to ignore it, but Hyungwon’s heat as well as his grip were impossible to ignore.

Her husband leaned across the seat and brought his lips to her ear as he whispered, “I would give anything to be inside you right now.”

Stricken, her wide eyes shot to the prince, and the princess subtly shook her head. As casually as she could, she brushed his hand away, and the conversation continued onto stories of the Da Viet coast and its bay of stony green giants, but they had barely traveled into the port itself before the prince's hand was back, this time higher on her thigh—with his pinky stroking insistently, nearly brushing her dampening secret.

Again, Hyungwon leaned to her ear and whispered, “Come away with me. Now.”

Naran shook her head again, but it took all her social graces to do so without screaming. She felt the flush rising up her chest, and with her low neckline, she knew full well it was on display for all—Connor’s stare and subsequent lip lick were all the proof she needed.

Fingers dug into her thigh then.

“Now, Naran.”

Hyungwon shot to his feet as Captain Witherspoon was mid-sentence and declared, “Gentlemen, if you will, please excuse my wife and me for a bit on an urgent matter.”

“Urgent, Your Highness?” the captain asked, aghast.

“Indeed. In the meantime, please enjoy a performance on one of our traditional instruments, the gayageum, as our staff prepares some of the coffee you so generously gifted us, and we can enjoy it together before our night concludes.” To his attendant, Hyungwon turned now and said, “Hansol.”

The servant bowed and hurried out of the room to bring back a middle-aged woman in an elegant hanbok. She scurried in and took a seat on a cushion as she perched a long, flat wooden harp across her lap, and moments later, the honeyed twang of the strings echoed in the hall.

Though the sailors looked floored by the unprecedented departure, there was nothing they could do but agree.

Meanwhile, Naran felt like a flag at the wind’s mercy as Hyungwon led the pair of them down the hall to the next room over, which was barely more than a closet compared to the hall they’d just left. No one had bothered to light any candles here, so it was cloistered with shadows and the outlines of furniture.

“What is with you today!” she snapped the first chance she got, but shock and indignance gave way to raw hunger the moment her husband spun her in his arms so her back was pressed to his chest. He wrapped both arms around her and squeezed her to him.

“I can’t take it anymore. You’re all I’ve been thinking about for days.”

“My lord—”

“Hush, darling. Are you going to tell me you never thought of me? Do you want to break me?”

As mad as she was, Naran’s arms encircled his around her chest and she melted back into him. “No…”

“So, tell me.”

“I thought of you, my prince.”

Hyungwon let out a shaky breath against her neck.

“We never got to finish what we started, princess,” he rasped as he dug through her skirts now, seeking bare skin, but the layers on the Western dress were confusing, and Naran heard a tear as frustration got the better of her husband.

“Be careful, sire!” she hissed. “I can’t go back in tatters.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” Hyungwon warned. “Maybe I want you to go back there with my marks all over you and your face dripping sweat. These sailors are too familiar. They should know they can’t have everything their eyes land on.”

“My prince…”

Naran tipped her head back, and Hyungwon kissed her brow. “I’m sorry. I don’t have time to tease you like before, but if you—”

His fingers glanced across her folds just then, and he let out a ragged breath.

“You’re already so wet,” he said, astonished.

“That’s from before,” she insisted though they both knew it was a lie. From the moment his hand had found a home on her knee, her body had hoped—prepared—for more.

Hyungwon rested his chin on her shoulder as he pressed her back against him. She could feel his hardness yearning for its rightful home, but as much as they should have been in a rush, her lazy prince refused to give up his intimate hold on his bride. Two of his fingertips glided up and down her lower lips, parting her just enough to spill more arousal over his digits. He found her needy little hill there and pressed just enough to have her trembling with excitement.

“You’re holding back. Naran,” he scolded. “Why are you holding back?”

“Our guests—”

“I thought you liked it when your audience leaves unsatisfied?”

“Yes,” she gasped as he rubbed her more urgently, “but these men aren't servants.”

Hyungwon growled against the juncture of her shoulder and neck. “Who cares? We'll never see them again.”

“What will they say about us at the next palace?”

Between kisses, he murmured, “They will say that the prince is very dedicated to producing an heir for his kingdom. Is that such a bad thing?”

Naran’s eyes drooped further and further, with every sweep of her husband’s fingers through her messy seam. Her voice was smoky and lost as she abandoned the last of her defenses. “No… No. It’s a good thing.”

“A very good thing.”

At last, Hyungwon removed his hand if only to bend her over the back of the nearest chair. The princess gripped the armrests, eyes wide with the panic of anticipation, and once he had positioned Naran exactly as it pleased him, he slid his middle finger into her core. Her back arched as the growing craving inside her was finally satiated.

The prince spent only a few moments priming her wet walls before he hiked her skirt properly over her hips. If anyone should open the door to the room, she would be on full display, and that only made her core contract harder.

There was the rustle of more fabric before she felt the dribbling head of her husband’s length against the inside of her thigh. Naran whimpered and glared at him over her shoulder, half in panic, half in desperation. “Wait, my prince—”

“Argue with me again and I won’t give you my cock, Naran. Is that what you want?”

He was gruff and so nonchalant about such language that it weakened the last of her defenses. With her lip between her teeth and her eyes glazed with lust, the princess shook her head.

“That’s what I thought,” Hyungwon said far too smugly, though that faded away quickly as he caressed the swell of her exposed flesh. “You are ready for me, aren't you, darling? Say you're ready. I can't wait anymore.”

In the darkness, his voice was heavenly even as his hands were wicked along the bloom of her hips.

She nodded. “For the—”

But before she could complete their mantra, Hyungwon pushed in to his hilt. Naran let out a long, low cry as the strength of his manhood nearly brought a tear to her eye. He gripped her waist and pushed her hips deep down against him so the head of his cock nestled in newfound depths inside her.

“I could fill you up right now,” he panted as he doubled over her, one hand still on her hip but the other joining hers on the armrest. “I’m that hard for you.”

“Not yet,” she begged though it was mixed with a moan, too.

“Not yet? It’s not just for the throne anymore, is it. My wife wants more pleasure first?”

“Yes…” answered the princess, only vaguely aware of how mindless she sounded.

“Even though there are men with greedy eyes waiting for her?”

The prince thrust in hard, chasing a ragged gasp from Naran’s lungs.

“Don’t care, don’t care.”

“What do you care about?” Hyungwon asked, his tongue thick against the shell of her ear now.

“Just care about you inside me. S’all I care about,” she slurred.

Naran ground her ass back against his hips while the prince rode out a series of emphatic thrusts. Each one was more determined than the last to force moan after moan from her.

Suddenly, Hyungwon came halfway up only to bring her along. His big hand splayed across her chest, groping her breast through her dress as he peppered kisses down her throat. He sucked a patch in the most visible real estate there, and once satisfied, he thrust upward at last to his wife’s grateful gasp.

With the new angle, he favored slower, deeper thrusts that pressed heavy inside her belly. His member savored her heat and tightness at his leisure while his lips continued their assault on her once-unblemished skin. At last, he pulled back, pleased with his handiwork, and Naran swore she could feel her heart throbbing underneath the new bruises.

“Make sure your hair stays up,” commanded Hyungwon as he roughly rocked into her. “Can’t show them the last ones, so I need them to see these.”

“Yes, my lord,” Naran sobbed as she gripped white-knuckled on the back of the chair.

“When we go back—when we go back, tilt your head like this—” Hyungwon’s hand moved to the crown of her head and gently pulled it toward her shoulder so that the sun-warmed tract of her neck was prominent, where his red-and-purple bull’s-eyes would be unmistakable even across a large room. “Let them see. Let them suffer.”

“Oh yes,” she groaned as he drilled more furiously with his every passing order. “Yes…”

“Don’t hold back now, darling. Not today. You're not a quiet lover, Naran. The whole empire knows your screams.”

“I’ve—ooh… I've always been able to control it. Not, ah, not with you!”

Hyungwon rumbled against her lobe, nibbling it as he ground himself in to his hilt. “You like it when I take you, princess?”

“So much.”

“You want more?”

“Yes…” she slurred. “More…”

Naran thought he’d take her harder, but instead, he pressed the both of them back over the chair and switched to a slower, more intimate stroke that ensured his shaft massaged the most sensitive, secret parts inside her. This way, he could bottom out with every thrust so forcefully that she hiccupped out her moans each time. As if that weren’t enough, his hand braced over hers on the armrest again, this time interlocking fingers, while the other splayed across the plane of her belly, pressing firmly to double her pleasure from inside and out.

Naran was stretched so full that she could think of nothing else—not prudence, not courtesy, not restraint. She sealed her hand over his on her stomach and greedily pressed back with each stab of his manhood into her velvet. Hyungwon picked up speed now—faster, hungrier, closer. More, more, more. They panted in time with one another as luxurious pressure built between the princess’s thighs.

There were no more words to be exchanged—they were well passed that point. Just the rasp of her husband’s desire for her was enough to make her climax, but combined with the way his body was consuming her and the way he took her more and more savagely, when Naran let go, she came truly undone. Her knees buckled and her body shook as a hitching cry pealed from her lips. If Hyungwon hadn’t been holding her up, she would have collapsed.

Instead, he hugged her tighter, riding out her seizing release a bit longer with stuttering plunges of his own until he squeezed her hands and pounded into her with a final exclamation of his cock unloading a torrent of his seed into her shuddering walls.

Together, they slumped against the chair, still hopelessly entangled and breathless. Minutes passed before either could form words, but at last, Naran managed, “My lord?”

“Hm?”

“You’re holding me too tightly.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. His arms unwound from her, and the temperature plummeted as dramatically as it did during nights on the steppe.

Naran lifted herself off his member and shuddered at the chaser of emptiness that followed. Hyungwon’s release gushed down her thighs. Though the mess made her recoil, it also made her stomach tighten and her weak knees rub together.

“I should clean up,” she said as she shuffled toward the door, but her husband grabbed her wrist to stop her.

The way his head leaned against the paneling in the thin light, his long black bangs matted with sweat and splintering his foggy gaze, made something in her chest squeeze painfully.

“Later,” he said. “Now, we return to our guests.”

“My lord, in this state—”

“Yes, in this state,” he insisted. His eyes fell to her slender wrist in his hand as he ran his thumb over the tendons there. His voice was huskier when he added, “We won’t be long.”

Naran shivered.

They headed back to the receiving room where they found the Irishmen uncharacteristically silent while Magda and Hansol looked on shell-shocked from the corners. At the sight of the young royals’ disheveled appearances, the room’s collective eyes widened, with the orange-haired sailor’s narrowing extra sharply. To Naran’s great relief, the musician kept playing; the princess didn’t think she could bear the company without the distraction.

Hyungwon sat on the sofa again, but when Naran moved to sit next to her husband, he instead tugged her to take a seat on the armrest next to his shoulder so he could wrap his arm around her waist and lean his head against her side. He smiled at the sailors as he said, “Pardon the interruption, gentlemen. Where were we?”

“We were, uh—” Captain Witherspoon glanced around the room, but Hyungwon smiled.

“What was it the good captain was talking about, my princess?”

Naran’s head whipped around to glare at her husband, and from the throat clears across from her, she understood what her husband’s question was really about. In one fell swoop, the burgeoning marks on her neck were the new focal point of the room. Her hand raced up to let down her hair, but Hyungwon caught her and shoved a cup of coffee in it, a smirk on his face.

“Um, Mau Le,” she said, her voice wavering with the embarrassment and maybe a little something deeper.

The prince poured a cup of coffee for himself, and he sipped it as though nothing unusual had happened at all. In fact, he picked right back up where they left off. “Yes, what was that you were saying about the Mau Le markets, Captain Witherspoon?”

Hesitantly, the gray-haired man resumed his description of the humid, fragrant markets of the Da Viet port, but there was much less flower to his stories now. His first mate no longer risked the princess’s attention at all and instead focused on what was left in his coffee cup.

Talk drifted back to the many wonderful exports the Wessex tradesmen could offer thanks to this sailing route, but with her husband’s lust weeping onto the seat of her dress, Naran had a hard time contributing anything to the conversation anymore let alone paying it any attention. For his part, Hyungwon had never looked more engaged.

At last, the princess could bear the distraction no longer, and when she abruptly stood, and all three men rose as well.

Red-faced, she bowed lightly as she said, “If you would excuse me, gentlemen, I will be right back."

“See you shortly, my darling,” said the prince shamelessly.

If Naran weren’t still basking in the glow of a much-needed release, she might have sworn at him, guests or not. Instead, she headed into the hall to the closest wash chamber, but before she could get there, she heard airy footsteps behind her.

“Excuse me, Your Highness?”

Naran turned to find Hayun alone in the hallway.

“What is it?” the princess asked.

Hayun bowed deeply, her hands tucked reverently in her hanbok sleeves as she swung forward with the grace of a bell. When she rose, she kept her eyes downcast as was the custom with the lower-level staff. “I am very sorry to bother Her Grace, but I am wondering something.”

“Okay…”

The servant cleared her throat lightly, a wisp of a smile curling her petal lips. “It seems to me I heard an echo in the halls just a little bit ago. Did you perhaps as well?”

“An echo?”

“Oh, yes. I have a feeling Her Grace might remember hearing them quite well, as did I. There were several things I know I have heard before, but last time, instead of an echo, I heard them much, much closer, almost as though they were in my ears instead of Her Grace’s.”

Naran was too dumbfounded to form words.

“Just thought her Esteemed Ladyship should be aware,” added Hayun with another bow before she rose and returned to the Receiving Hall, leaving turbulent seas for a princess, who had known only firm land, to navigate.

#monsta x smut #multichapter #prisoner to temptation #hyungwon smut #royal au #arranged marriage #romance #slow burn #bodice ripper #third person

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