#servant!jisung

[yongbbokkie]

agshsjKnzkaJadfkg yeeessssss I neeeeddd moooooore!! I am so in love with this world already and the idea of the kingsguard and what they stand for!!! I can not wait for the rest!! but holy shit I am so scared for jisung!!! and felix! I hope he never gets found!! I need the king dead.

blossoming ; jisung x reader ; part 2/4

part one | part two | part three | final part

pairing: han jisung/reader author's note: all right i decided four parts, the rest this weekend. smut starts next chapter. for now i torture everyone with slow burn build up. yummy.

content info: reader is described with curly hair.

content warnings: previously established warnings from part one plus this chapter has an additional content warning for emetophobia.

word count: 5100 words.

<3

-

Morning dawns with a cool, clear light, but it fades as quickly, dissolving in the burning sunshine.  Every hand is at work, preparing the royal retinue for its return journey to the capital. 

You watch as the last of your trunks are loaded onto a wagon.  Each click and latch echoes inside you.  You stand helpless as your life is locked in iron. 

You walk to exert the worst of your nerves, fluttering inside you like a thousand frantic butterflies.  You lift your gaze to the sky, willing those butterflies to carry you away, but then you see your family waving from a balcony. 

You cannot let them see your pain.  It is too late to do anything about the marriage, even if your parents expressed some regret for the arrangement.  That regret was tentatively posed to avoid treasonous speech, but they were undoubtedly taken aback by the king’s poor behaviour.    

Your mother insisted on dressing you this morning.  She was teary-eyed the entire time, so you faked your best and brightest smile.  There was no sense in you both suffering. 

The child in you wants to fling yourself at your family.  The woman you are, the queen you have become, forces a smile and waves back. 

You continue your walk.  Your mother dressed you finely but comfortably, a long, loose gown with flowing sleeves, your curly hair pinned in a twisting up-do, a flower behind your ear in lieu of a crown. 

Heads turn towards you, for there are courtiers milling about.  Some are travelling with the king’s party while others will divert course to visit their own lands.  Judgemental eyes trail the sweep of your hem across the earthen path.  You feign indifference as you weave in-and-out of the bustling bodies.

The courtyard has never been so busy.  The clamour of trunks, the stomping of horses, and the din of busy chatter blend into cacophony. 

Distantly, you hear a guitar.  

Han Jisung.  The first name you associate with music. 

You are flushed with embarrassment, remembering last night’s sorry return to your room.  Jisung escorted you back, a silent trek that agitated your frayed anxiety at the time.  In the light of day, you realize just how much he did for you.  You would not have survived the journey, at least not in one piece, and if anyone else had caught you, your life would have been equally forfeit. 

He committed an offense against the crown, a sin in his faith, one that would have demanded a great deal of reconciliation.  You have heard stories of kingsguards self-flagellate in the pursuit of forgiveness for even meagre transgressions.  The fact Jisung understood your betrayal, the fact he forgave it, the fact he saved you, is not insubstantial. 

You wonder who this man is, to wear the cloth but help his friend first, to keep secrets for a woman he hardly knew because he sympathized with her pain.  To have a sword at his hip and a song on his lips. 

You follow the guitar.  It leads you to the royal carriages and a circle of kingsguards in a hushed argument.  Jisung is playing a comically frantic tune while they debate. 

“What’s going on?” another kingsguard approaches.  It is the short and stocky one from the ceremony.  You learned the names of the all kingsguards at the evening festivities.  You recognize this one as Seo Changbin, an undoubted force of brute strength, striding up to his brethren with a hand on his sword hilt. 

“Felix disappeared,” Jisung trills, fingers dancing over the guitar strings, “and the kingsguard is afeared, because the king is not too dear—”

“What?” Changbin interrupts, looking at the others.  “Felix is gone?”

“Not just Felix,” a brown-haired guard, Lee Minho, says.  His brow is pinched.  “The king’s mistress is missing too.” 

Your eyes widen, your careful mask cracking under the assault of shock. 

The woman who ran off with Felix was the king’s mistress?   

It does not take much knowledge of the inner circle to deduce that does not bode well for anyone.  A kingsguard breaking his oath is one thing, a kingsguard running off with a woman is another still, but a kingsguard conducting an affair with the king’s mistress is a personal betrayal heaped on top of sin.  The only worse crime would be if he pursued the king’s wife. 

Jisung looks at you.  

He spots you across the crowd and strums a foul note, fingers clumsy with surprise.  The bad note draws attention to him, so the other guards follow his line of sight.   They all straighten when they see you, their strong shoulders tense with anxiety.

Minho and Changbin immediately duck into a bow.  The other two, Kim Seungmin and Yang Jeongin, exchange a glance before following suit.  Hwang Hyunjin, the preposterously beautiful one, bows but not before he grimaces with discomfort at their conversation being overheard by the queen.

Jisung is still staring, his eyes darting from your face to the flower behind your ear.  He meets your eyes and, for a long moment, sinks into your gaze where he loses himself.  The events of the previous evening seem to play in the space between you, every panicked whisper and solemn glance.

Then he abruptly notices the rest are bowing. With a yelp, he swings down into a bow. 

You take a breath to steady your voice. “What’s this about a missing person?” you ask. 

They straighten, one by one, sharing uncertain looks.  Minho and Jisung seem to have a mute conversation, Minho clenching his jaw and lifting his brows as if mutely scolding Jisung.  Jisung stares back with furrowed brows as if challenging it.

In the end, it’s the youngest one who speaks.  Jeongin is a shaggy-haired youth and his whole face is scrunched with worry. 

“A kingsguard is missing,” he blurts.  “But he’s not a bad guard,” he adds frantically, waving his hands around.  “Really.  We don’t know what happened.  It’s not like him.  And the king’s mistress is missing too, but that doesn’t make sense.  No, it doesn’t make any sense at all.  Felix wouldn’t do that.  It’s not like Felix.  It’s really very strange, your Majesty.  We don’t understand, Your Majesty.  Your Majesty.”  He dips into a bow every time he utters your title.

Seungmin kicks him. 

“Stop talking, dummy,” Seungmin says out of the side of his mouth. 

“Right, I’m sorry,” Jeongin says, bowing again.  “We’re all very loyal.  We’re the kingsguard.  You know that. Of course you do.”

As if anyone could mistake the cluster of black-robed soldiers, looking very austere among the courtiers and servants. 

You say nothing more, simply cast your gaze around the assembled soldiers, doing your utmost not to look at Jisung lest you betray too much secret knowledge. 

“There is no cause for concern,” Minho says, drawing your attention.  “Everyone is just… surprised.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin mutters, “Surprised it wasn’t Hyunjin.”   

Jeongin snorts, though he looks remorseful after.  Hyunjin whips around to glare at Seungmin who is now snickering to himself. 

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says, catty in tone, “I let them look, but I don’t touch.”

“And what do they touch?” Seungmin retorts.  Jeongin laughs again and looks even more chagrined, covering his mouth and closing his eyes. 

“Yah, knock it off,” Changbin says, waving them apart. 

“We’ll fix it,” Minho says to you.  “You don’t need to concern yourself, your Majesty.”

You do not say that you are very concerned.  You worry the king’s attentions will return to you sooner than he threatened.  And if that was his conduct when he had a mistress for pleasure, you are loathe to imagine how he might behave in her absence.    

But that is not an admittance you can make to the holy order sworn to enforce the will of the gods-blessed crown.

The king is wearing that crown as he storms over.  He is already ranting and raving, barking at the leader of kingsguard.  Chan follows him, hand on the hilt of his sword, stoic face not betraying a hint of anxiety.  He nods patiently at the king’s ranting. 

When they reach the guards, a single look from Chan compels them all to stand in formation and bow before the king.

“I want them found!” the king hollers.  “I want their heads on pikes outside my window!  And if I find any conspirators in this fucking plot—”   He shoves a passing servant, a man in the wrong place at the wrong time.  The servant spills to the ground, cowering when the king looms over him.  “Then they too shall pay the price of treason.”   

The servant crawls into full obeisance, prostrate on the ground.  The king just snarls and steps over him. 

“Sire,” Chan says curtly, a vague acknowledgement before he helps the servant up and sends him on his way. 

The king has already moved on, still ranting to himself as he storms across the courtyard.  He starts shouting about his wife, evidently missing you in the crowd.  You swallow down the choking terror in your throat and follow him. 

“If that whore ran off too—” he starts, turning around and finally seeing you.  He snarls.  “It would have been preferable,” he says. 

You say nothing.  You dip into a respectful bow and keep your eyes down.  It conceals your fear, your frustration.  You hope it just looks submissive.   

“It is not necessary we overindulge in company,” he says.  “You will ride in the carriage behind mine.  The kingsguard will surround us.  You will not bother them.  You will not be a grievance to me.  You will be quiet.  You will be obedient.  You will do as told and move only when bid.”  He does not wait for a reply, turning to look at the guards.  “We depart.  Now.  I want to leave this disgusting territory behind me.”

He spits.  Ostensibly, it is just on the ground, a slight against the land, but it falls close to your feet.  It is abundantly obvious what he is actually spitting on. 

You take another steadying breath, staring at that spot on the ground.  When you find the strength to lift your gaze, the guards are staring at you.  Their expressions run the range of pity and malcontent.  You suppose they would be offended by the king slighting you so outright.  Though his blood is divine by birthright, they believe the gods control the fates of men, so if you are queen it is because the gods will it so.  You have also been chosen by the gods and it is not appropriate for the king to conduct himself thusly. 

They are visibly disgruntled, Chan most of all, his brow furrowed as he stares after the king.  The shake of his head is nearly imperceptible; you would have missed it if you were not looking at that precise moment. 

The king leaves an awkward silence in his retreat.  It is broken when Jisung strums a melodramatic chord on his guitar. 

Chan shoots him an unimpressed look.  Jisung giggles nervously.   

“Put it away,” Chan says.

“Heh, right,” Jisung says, spinning on his heel.  He putters towards his horse where he packs his guitar with his saddlebags. 

In spite of yourself, you feel the tug of a smile, very small but very real.  Your eyes follow Jisung until Chan steps forward, his hand over his heart as he bows politely.

“Your Majesty,” he says.  “I’ll escort you to the carriage.” 

You start to follow, casting a final glance back at your home.  When you do, you catch sight of something across the courtyard.  It roots you to the spot.  Your heart weighs you down like a lead weight. 

“Your Majesty?” Chan says, tilting his head.  He holds out his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.  It comes out on a breath.  You clear your throat but your voice is still shaking when you say, “Can you give me just one more moment?  I’ll be fast.”

His squints, perplexed, but he nods. 

You gather your skirts so you can run quickly over the courtyard bricks.  You hurry to the cluster of household servants who are gathered in a teary-eyed throng by the palace.   When they see you coming, they all rush forward.  You meet them halfway, throwing your arms around the woman directly in your path. 

Your tears nearly escape, but you manage to restrain them, enveloped in the friendly embrace of the household that raised you.  You spent more time among these people than anyone else, always respectful of their important duties, cherishing their friendships as dearly as any noblesse. 

You know it is inappropriate as a queen, standing there hugging the servants one-by-one, but you suspect you will draw ire regardless.  So you hug and thank them, wiping a few teary faces as they wish you well. 

“You’ll come back and visit right?” a little girl asks, the daughter of a handmaiden your own age, a woman you consider a friend.  You spent many hours entertaining her daughter, helping with chores, giving gifts, seeing her grow. 

You crouch down to her level, holding back tears as you nod.  You know it’s not true, that the king will undoubtedly forbid it given his contempt for this place.  But you say, “Of course I will.  This is my home.  I’d miss you all too much.”

“We’ll miss you too,” her mother says, hugging you next.  When she does, she slips something into your hand, a small phial of a dark liquid.  “Sleeping draft,” she whispers in your ear.  “For the nights the king needs his rest so you may have yours.” 

You laugh through your tears, kiss her temple and a mouth a thank you as you withdraw.   You tuck the phial into a pocket pouch inside your gown. 

After a few more goodbyes, you stand before them and bow.  You offer a smile as they return it.  It carries a very different respect than the terrified cowering of the servant before the king. 

You are not the only one who thinks so.  When you turn, you find the guards all staring at you, their faces a wall of blinking surprise.  Jisung is the worst at hiding his thoughts, his brown eyes the widest.   Chan is the best, but even he cannot hide his contemplation.   

“I’m ready,” you say gently. 

You lift your hem and walk onward.  You do not look back.  You wait until the carriage door is closed behind you, then you bury your face in your hands and cry. 

-

Your sorrow passes, bleeding into frustration, then fury.   Alone in the carriage, you have time to stew in a myriad of emotions as you deliberate on your circumstances.  You resolve to stand firm before the king, to not crumple beneath his cruel sneers, to bear his wickedness with grace.  You will make him ridiculous in comparison to your obvious virtue. 

This commitment falters very quickly. 

For the first hour of travel, you are passing through your family’s property, then the village.  The roads are paved and the passage is smooth.  When you reach the forest path, it is a different matter entirely.  Though there is a road that cuts through the great woods, it is a trail of gravel and packed, uneven dirt.  The carriage jostles constantly, bouncing up and down at inconsistent intervals.

You last three hours.  By the end of that third hour, you are so queasy that the scarlet interior of the carriage turns to a murky green.  Your spotted vision swims through that grime even with your eyes closed.  You do everything you can to ease the discomfort, taking down your hair pin-by-pin until every curl is loose, the flower discarded because its scent was too strong.  You sit in every possible position, craning towards the window and fresh air, but the nausea only worsens as the trail gets bumpier. 

You try to distract yourself, listening to the aimless chatter and laughter from the kingsguards.  Their horses trot along at an unhurried canter, far smoother than the carriage wheels jumping over rocks and earth. 

After a particularly violent jostle, you give up.  You are going to be sick and you would rather not do it in the carriage. 

“Excuse me,” you say, waving to the first guard you see.  Minho is not far from the window.  “I’m sorry but I need to stop.  Right now.”  You want to elaborate but your stomach rolls and your voice catches. 

You must look sufficiently ill because Minho clicks his boots and quickens his pace, riding up to Chan near the king’s carriage.  You slump against your seat while they have a quick discussion.

Chan lifts a hand and the whole train comes to a halt. 

You do not wait for them to open the door.  You burst out of the carriage in a clumsy frenzy, running to the treeline where you fall to your knees and promptly empty the contents of your stomach. 

You feel hot and frantic, heaving as you struggle to hold your hair off your face.  You sputter, lips quivering as another wave rises inside you. 

Someone jumps off their horse and lands beside you.  You spare a brief glance up at Minho, his brow pinched with concern, but then the king shouts in aggravations and you throw yourself forward to vomit some more.

Minho helps, bending over you, gathering you hair as best he can and holding it out of the way.  The next closest soldier, Hyunjin, also dismounts and approaches. 

Vomiting is not exactly dignified.  It feels even worse to have every single person in the royal retinue watch you spew your breakfast over the forest floor.

You lift your head, turning to offer an apology but your voice is shot.  Minho still looms rather protectively, Hyunjin nearby.  You look around for Chan to address him, but your eyes find Jisung first.  He is the farthest away, perched on horseback, fidgeting with the reins.

The king shouts again.  It’s a block of noise to your ringing ears, but you suspect he is angry at the delay.  He told you not to be a grievance.

You try to stand but your knees wobble.  You use a rock for balance, then Minho when he takes your arm.   Hyunjin steps in and takes your other arm.  Together, they get you back on your feet. 

“I don’t think she can continue yet, sire,” Chan says, riding into view.  “Maybe we should rest here for a bit.”

“We are stopping to rest in an hour,” the king snaps.  “I will not be delayed so near to our schedule.”

“What made you sick?” Minho asks.

“The carriage,” you say, groaning as you wipe your mouth.  You are certain you make a ravaged sight.  At least your stomach is empty now, the worst of the nausea passed, but you cannot imagine climbing back inside that rattling monstrosity.  

You step forward, away from Minho and Hyunjin.  Your legs quiver but you steady yourself. 

“I’ve never ridden a carriage so far,” you say.  “I’m very sorry, I am.  The terrain is just so uneven.  I’ve only ever ventured to the village and back.”  Even then, you usually travelled on horseback.  Sometimes you would sit on the back on a wagon or two, but it never went farther than the ends of the property. 

“Why doesn’t she travel on horseback?”  That sounds like Seungmin, speaking somewhere behind you. 

“Can you ride a horse?” Hyunjin asks, to which you nod emphatically. 

“It might be less intense at this pace,” Minho agrees. 

They look at Chan.  You are certain there is something significant about the fact the guards always seek instructions from Chan and not the king, but you are too unsettled to contemplate anything too deeply. 

Chan is the one who looks at the king, lifting a questioning brow. 

“There’s no horses to spare,” the king says.  “If one of you wants to deal with the brat, then take her.” 

Hyunjin steps towards you. 

“Not you,” the king says. 

Hyunjin steps back again.

The king, who is still in his carriage, cranes his neck to look around the gathered guards.  He snaps his fingers. 

“Bard boy,” he calls.  “Take the queen.”

“Jisung,” Chan says, waving him forward.  “Come here.” 

You look at Jisung who is visibly startled at his selection.  His black hair is a bit windswept, the longer tufts curling up at his nape.  Wide, brown eyes find yours, slowly blinking to attention.  With a shake of his head, he picks up the reins and rides over to you. 

You step back, staring up at him on his perch.  He says nothing but extends his open hand, blinking those captivating eyes at you.  You are not sure why they ensnare you so, nor why your heart skips a beat when you delicately place your hand in his.  That beat pounds a quick stacatto when his sword-calloused fingers grip yours tightly. 

Minho and Hyunjin help you onto the horse.  You seat yourself side-saddle in front of Jisung, ramrod straight so you are not pressed against him.  His arms circle you to take the reins and you pointedly do not look at his hands.    

Despite the king’s presumption, you would have been less bothered by Hyunjin.  Yes, he is irrevocably handsome, his own black hair tied back, sleek and pristine, but it does not affect you.  A handsome face has never much moved you.  You always thought yourself logical, your heart oddly shaped next to others.

But now you are looking at Jisung’s dark-painted nails, his soldier’s hands on the reins; now you are feeling his breath at your nape, the warmth that emanates from his body, hot from wearing black in the summer sun; now you think of him helping his friend, helping you, and that makes him more than a handsome face.  it makes your stomach twist in a very different way than before. 

That feeling is exacerbated when he reaches into a saddlebag and retrieves a waterskin. 

“Here,” he says in a soft voice.  “Drink. Go on.”  He puts it in your hand. 

You take a deep drink, purging your mouth of the foul residue of sickness.  You thank him just as softly and hand the waterskin back.   

Once settled, the train resumes course.  Chan waves and everyone marches on.

Jisung spurs the horse into motion.  Despite your best effort, the movement knocks you into his chest.  Jisung sputters and you realize your undone hair is flying into face. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, desperately smoothing it down.  It does not work, but all your pins are in the carriage and you suspect the king will not be too enchanted if you stop the train to fetch them.

“It’s okay,” Jisung says.  “One second.”  He lays the reins down, his thigh muscles firm behind you as he squeezes to maintain leverage. 

Then you feel the brush of his fingertips on your bare neck.  It sends an immediate cascade of shivers shooting down your spine.  He gathers your hair carefully in his hands, guiding it over your shoulder, away from his face. 

Minho also pulled back your hair, but that was a very different sensation. 

This you… feel.

He takes up the reins again, arms circled around you.  You pull yourself upright as the horse moves along. 

You think this ride might be stiff and uncomfortable, but then he begins to hum to himself.  You find the gentle melody placates your nerves.  Your frantic energy simmers to a cooler calm. 

After a while, the conversations resume around you.  Jisung tells some jokes to the other guards and you smile, though it is weak.  Their camaraderie makes you miss your own friends already. 

Jisung hums again, almost like he can sense your discomfort.  It is most likely a coincidence, but you still find yourself sighing pleasantly. 

With the worst of your anxiety tempered, at least for now, you ask him, “Where did you learn to play?”

“Sorry?”  The question catches him off guard.

“Sorry,” you say.  “I don’t mean to pry.  I’m just curious.” 

Though there is often a bard-like character in the kingsguard, it is nonetheless an intriguing amalgamation of skills.  They do not let just anyone into the kingsguard service, even if they are willing to take the vow of chastity and surrender their earthly goods.  Jisung must be an exceptionally skilled swordsman to be admitted, an interesting background for such a talented musician.  Though he was joking with his music earlier, he is very capable of composing melodic poetry.

“Music and swordplay just seem an odd match,” you say.

“Maybe,” he replies.  “Maybe not.  They both require dedication.  Time.  Practice.” 

“You are a devout man, I suppose,” you say. 

“Of course,” he answers confidently.  “I am absolutely the most devout and most impressive one here—ow.”  Someone, probably Seungmin, chucks a coin at his head.  

You laugh, glancing at Jisung over your shoulder.  His eyes dart briefly to your mouth, his own face brightening at your smile.  He laughs back and nods. 

“Honestly, I grew up with music first,” he says.  “I didn’t, uh… I didn’t exactly grow up in a palace.  To say the least.  But, yeah, definitely palace-adjacent and not a hovel on a street in the capital,” he jokes.  As he talks, you picture a little boy with a guitar, strumming on the busy city streets.  “I used to write songs and sing for money.  Then I got older.  I was looking for work when the war started.  I got recruited like a lot of boys, but I was pretty disciplined and a fast learner.  After the war, I met Chan.  He put in a good word for me, so I was able to put myself forward during the new recruitment season.”

“So you haven’t been there long,” you say.  The war only ended a year ago. 

“Ten months,” he says cheerily.  “But it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“That’s commendable,” you say.  “It’s rewarding, I’m sure, but an intense order nonetheless.  I can’t imagine making so many sacrifices.”

“Can’t you?” 

The question is posed softly but lands heavily.  You suppose Jisung is correct; you have both made sacrifices to be where you are, though the journeys were very different, and your futures more so. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly.  “Fuck, that wasn’t my place.  Your Majesty.  Oh, fuck, I swore.  Fuck, sorry.  Ignore that.” 

You laugh in spite of yourself, catching the sound in your palm.  He laughs behind you.  Even with a sliver of distance between you, you can feel his chest shaking.

“Good thing foregoing curses is not one of your oaths,” you say.

“Oh, fuck, no, I’d fail that one for sure.  Sorry, ignore that too.” 

You are pretty sure he is being funny on purpose now, but you appreciate it, smiling as you move beneath a canopy of trees.  It is much cooler in the shade, alleviating the discomfort of the hot sun.  You exhale and let your posture slacken, just a bit, just enough your bodies touch on every downward canter. 

“Were you ever scared?” you ask.  The king’s carriage is ahead of you.  You watch the wheels turn and turn. 

“Yeah,” he says.  “A bit.  A lot.  Completely.  Not about the vows, though.  I was just scared I’d let everyone down.  Especially Chan.  He put his own reputation on the line when he stood for me.  I don’t know what he saw in me.  Gods only know no one else ever saw it.  Me included.”

He laughs at his self-deprecation but you do not.  You watch the shadows of the forest roll over the carriages.  You think of Jisung in that barn, risking everything for his friend.  Your cheek tingles, remembering where he wiped your tear during that lonely ceremony.  Your heart still races at the memory of him singing a springtime song, dedicated to you despite the antagonistic crowd.    

“I do,” you say.

“You do what?” he asks casually. 

“I see something good in you, Han Jisung.”   

“Ohh.”  He is stupefied for a moment.  You are not sure of his expression, too shy to look at him.   “Well, I don’t know about that,” he eventually says.  “I’m definitely the lowest ranked in the kingsguard.  Sorry for that, by the way.”

“Sorry?”  Now you look back, meeting his gaze.  “Why would you be sorry?”

“Well, uh…”  He looks away, to the road ahead, his voice strained with awkwardness.  “There’s a reason I was picked for proxy at the ceremony.  It’s not because I’m not the best swordsman, or the most pious priest.  I’m, uh, well… ‘bard boy’.  And the king – His Holy Majesty – he uh… well, I mean…  It had to be someone like a kingsguard but he didn’t want… I mean, that is…”

“It’s all right,” you say.  “You don’t have to say it. I understand.” 

he king was heaping insults on you and your family; of course he chose the lowest ranked kingsguard to stand in as proxy, just like he chose him now. 

Irritation creeps up your neck, heating your skin.  You glare at the carriage. 

You are not even annoyed for yourself.  Your insult has been established.  You angry that the king would make such a disrespectful insinuation for a member of the elite kingsguard.  The kingsguard service is as ancient as the regime.  They are a respectable, powerful order.  Admission to the order requires a great deal of work, more than simply being born in the right house.  The king has no right to insult a soldier like Jisung.  Just like he has no right to insult you. 

“So yeah,” Jisung says.  He clears his throat and tries to sound cheery as he says, “That’s why I’m sorry!  Anyway, it all worked out.  I’m sure I’m your favourite already, right?  I’m everyone’s favourite, obviously.” 

He is speaking jokingly but your heart skips a beat anyway.  You swallow, hard.   

In the next moment, the horse jumps, maneuvering around a ditch in the road.  You fall against his chest with a thump, throwing your hands out instinctively.  Your hand clasps his, your bodies pressed together. 

“Sorry,” you say in unison. 

“It’s all right,” he says.  “I got ya.”

It is spoken with nonchalance.   You still feel it.     

“I’m not sorry,” you say.  “I’m glad it was you, Jisung.” 

You turn, finding your lips close to his face.  He stares at you, as surprised as he is rivetted. 

Softly, so only he can hear, intimately, a breath away from him, you whisper, “I believe you saved my life even before you found me in that barn.  So yes.  I’m glad it was you.  I’m glad he chose you.  I would have chosen you too.”     

“Oh,” is all he says, moved to silence. 

You remain in his arms, leaning against his chest.  You pick up the melody he was humming and hum it yourself, making him laugh on an exhale.  You feel the tension leave his arms and his heartbeat skip then resume its normal cadence, steadying your own. 

[planetdream]

PLUTO !

CHARACTERS ! vampire!lee minho, human!reader [ft. human!kim seungmin, servant!han jisung]

GENRE ! horror/thriller—vampire!au. “romance”. smut. minors dni.

SYNOPSIS ! when your fiancé, seungmin, fails to return home after notifying you of his departure from count minho's estate, you decide to search for answers yourself.

WORDS ! 12.2k more or less

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! writing inspired by the various varieties of dracula. horror [vampirism. gore—body horror: details of blood and bloodsucking. spiders. strange creatures. nightmares and overall very lucid dreams. allusions to character death.] hypnosis. hallucinations. manipulation and gaslighting. kidnapping? and references to religion [christianity/catholicism], prayers and comparisons to a Higher Power™. mentions of food. infidelity and smut [one wet dream. pussy eating—a lil bush appreciation. hair pulling. big dick minho. grinding. fingering. worship. term master used once. degradation—whore shaming. choking. nipple play/breast fondling. lots of spit. squirt n cum.]

💌 extremely self indulgent. all the thanks and love in the world to the homie, @cosmicbyeol for beta-ing for me n overall being an incredible help !!! 🥺 also, as always, accepting feedback and constructive criticism!!

The last three weeks have been weary, to say the least. You had been elated as your fiancé, Seungmin, was scheduled to arrive back in the city after a nearly two-month-long business trip. With the day of his return steadily approaching, you found yourself excitedly performing various small tasks in preparation for the moment you finally see him again. Then the big day arrives and Seungmin is nowhere to be found. No big deal; perhaps his arrival is a bit late, or he may need time to himself to unwind after long travels. If anything, he’ll show up at your door the next day with flowers and a gift, ready to tell you all about his journey and the people he’d made connections with. 

Then the fourth day comes, and by that point, you’re knocking on his front door but to no answer. You stroll past his home on your evening walks and the lights aren’t on. You’ve revisited the post office, checked in with relatives; and still, nothing. Seungmin is seemingly lost to space and time. By the sixth day, you’ve written a letter to Count Minho, the friend and business partner that Seungmin had been staying with; explaining the situation and the fact that you’ll be visiting while in search of Seungmin. 

Count Minho is a mystery to you. Seungmin never spoke with you about his relations with the Count, and you never pried into the specifics of his work business. From what you do know, Seungmin’s work involves him being in contact with several different people from real estate to archaeologists and historians, to priesthoods and other religious leaders. You simply assumed Count Minho had been one of the aforementioned, or possibly an artifact seller or buyer; as Seungmin is interested in the hobby himself, and has countless other buyers and sellers he knows. While the Count is a mystery, you feel that there is a possibility that he can lead you back into the arms of your lover. 

After a few days of planning and packing, you finally decide to get started on your journey. By the Sunday of the third week, you’re lodging with some very nice people in the town nearest to Count Minho’s estate—which is only about a two-hour distance away—you choose to stay in the village to get the word out about Seungmin. 

The townsfolk are a welcoming and lively bunch. You were fed, rested, and told stories of both local legends and the juiciest gossip around town. On the eve of your final night in town before you join the Count, you mentioned him, and the room fell silent. A feeling of unease weaved its way into the small kitchen you’d been standing in. The two women beside you failed to meet your gaze. You had already been told of the creatures said to be lurking through the forests between town and the area of the Count’s estate. A classic story of a wolfman who is out to kidnap unsuspecting young men and women; only brought up because of very recent alleged sightings. 

A third woman finally spoke up. Urging you to forego your plan of visiting what she called such a vile and off-putting man. There’s a legend about the man who lives in the castle at the edge of the forest—whom you presume to be Count Minho—who comes into town during the night of the first full moon of the spring season, with the sole purpose of terrorizing people in their homes; feasting on their organs and drinking their blood. The last occurrence happened nine springs ago: a family of five, two completely drained of blood and tossed to the side, with another two torn piece-by-piece; left mixed in a pool of wasted blood. There had been one remaining survivor, eyes removed from their sockets, who only could say one thing: “He called himself God.”

Though the story terrified you—you refused to let that stop you. If Count Minho is some extraordinary beast, then let you be the one to stop him if it means you get to become one with Seungmin again. 

Alas, the day to meet Count Minho has come, and the women you shared dinner with last night are appalled to hear that you were insistent on making your way to Count Minho’s estate. Knowing that they cannot stop you, they wish you luck and pray for you, gifting you a crucifix for safety on your journey. 

By the time you approach Count Minho’s estate, it is about an hour after sundown. The sky begins to dim rapidly, as the former golden-pink hue of the sky begins to turn into a deep purple and later fading into black. The temperature drops by the hour but thankfully the winter season is coming to an end. The snow is already clearing up, and in a couple days it will have been long gone and forgotten for generous showers of rain. 

Your arrival, predestined and arranged to be brought by carriage, led you here. And as you pull into the gates of the estate, an unsettling feeling hits you. Deep in the pit of your stomach as if something had crawled inside of you and is now scratching to be freed. Despite that, the feeling of discomfort quickly begins to wash over you, seemingly dispersing into fascination—like a group of butterflies or a bouquet of flowers flourished within your body and spirit. You feel a lot lighter, elevated as if a veil was pulled over you. 

You can hardly see the castle in the darkness, but if you strain your eyes hard enough, you may be able to see the silhouette of the grand estate. Though that’s no use, the surrounding forest, and deep black sky work as a void, shielding away any ounce of natural light, encompassing the castle within its secrets. The moon, nearly full, and friendly to those who respect it, is useless as the structure of the castle casts away the inquisitive nature of the celestial body—nothing will be brought to light or justice tonight. 

The carriage, drawn by three black horses, halts in front of the main entrance. Several long, white, cylinder candles light up the main door of the Count’s castle. The entrance is similar to that of a cathedral’s—two heavy-looking doors adorned with indescribable red patterns; swirling into shapes that seemingly recreate human-like faces. It’s vague. At a simple glance, the patterns reflected by the candlelight look like faces, but the longer you look at them you realize otherwise. The patterns seemingly have no rhyme or reason, endless red swirls that are simply just decorations. 

Atop the door is a large arch, and in the dead center is a sculpture of a man—perhaps it’s of the Count. In the brief flicker of the flame, you can see the face of the sculpture. Its face is horrid, angry even; a permanent scowl displayed. But in that short second, you notice its eyes, big and red, fixated directly on you. There’s a chill that runs down your spine in that brief moment of eye contact. And while every nerve in your body warns you, there are matters that the Count needs to assist you with that are bigger than just a feeling. 

In your deep thought, one of the doors opens with a loud screech, almost like the scream of someone. It garners a gasp from you, shaking you out of your head and back into reality. Before you know it, your feet are moving faster than your brain and you step out of the carriage. Collecting your bags and holding them tightly, thanking the coachman for bringing you safely. As you turn back to the door, it’s open wider than before, but still, the Count is nowhere in sight. 

You walk closer, hand reaching up to touch the door and you enter, eyes unable to find a resting place. There are candles everywhere, several of them as if there are no electrical lights within the place, despite the huge chandelier hanging from above. The smell of the place does not come from the candles—it’s something else that draws you in, a familiar scent perhaps from your past, but you’re unable to put your finger on it. You step further into the home and when you do, the door behind you slams shut, making you jump and turn back. 

The slam is followed by an unsettling silence, practically deafening. You call out. 

“Hello?” You look around. Just ahead of you is a long hallway, lit up with candles. You’re not sure how long the hallway is, as at a certain point, the light from the flames is no longer visible, fading into a pitch-black blanket. The walls are decorated with cobwebs and a boring gold and red damask; the colors are fading, or at the very least very dusty and in need of upkeep. The floorboards are wooden and when you shift, they make an awful creaking noise. This castle has been around for a long time—centuries even, likely and believably kept within the Count’s family. Modernity has not caught up to it. 

“Hello?” You begin again. “I’m Y/N. I wrote to you a few weeks ago as I had some inquiries for you about Seungmin.” 

Your voice trails off. There’s a cloud of unease that reigns above you, and still, as you stand in the foyer of this already strange place, there’s a familiar warmth that surrounds you. When you breathe in, your chest expands, hair brushing against your neck as you sigh in both contentment and exhaustion. 

“Good evening,” You heard his voice, but you hadn’t heard him come over. “I have been expecting you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but any aforethought words get caught in your throat at the sight of him. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. You catch his eyes immediately, locked into his stare, lost in the deep sands of his chocolate brown eyes. There’s a soft yet teasing nature behind them and it draws you in, latching onto you. He looks to be a lot younger than the age you heard him to be. His lips curve into a smile as he sticks his hand out for you to shake. Though, quite frankly, you’re not sure if you’re supposed to bow to him or not. 

“Yes, um,” You shake his hand, giving a small, shy smile. You’re unable to take your eyes off of him. 

“Come on. You must be cold and tired, let us go sit.” He speaks before you get the chance, letting you collect your thoughts. “Feel free to leave your things there. They will be collected.”

You nod, setting your belongings down and following Count Minho deeper into the castle. You’re unsure if it is because you’re a bit tired, or some very serious architectural error, but the interior of the castle is like a labyrinth of sorts. The Count opens a door you initially assumed to be a room—but instead turned into another hall of rooms. He turns left on his heels and into a side room, you follow along. 

The room you enter is small but comfortable enough for three or four people to have their space. Ahead of you are big windows, covered with thick black curtains that scrape against the floor. To your right is a fireplace, a huge flame already burning and keeping the room nice and toasty. On the right are three large bookcases that reach the ceiling, the multicolored spines of the books add little pops of color. In front of you are two velvet chairs facing the fireplace, divided by a porcelain side table and atop of it are two books and a tea set. 

The room is very neat overall. A couple of misplaced books here and there, sat on the floor. Otherwise, it’s eerily neat. As if the Count rarely uses the room but chronically dusts because everything is just for decoration. The Count takes a seat and as he beckons you over, eyes diverted from your face, as he pours you a cup of tea. You move hastily, sitting at the chair across from him. 

“Hibiscus,” He says, a small smile on his face. “It also seems that I’m forgetting my manners. Those in the town call me the Count, however, you are welcome to call me Minho.”

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet with and host me,” You begin, ready to get to the point. The Count—Minho—nods. “As I mentioned in the letter sent, I’ve arrived here to look for my fiancé, Seungmin. I’ve only received letters from his arrival and departure, and not many in between those times; which is unlike him on his usual work trips. It’s been weeks now, three to be exact. And since you are a friend of his, I was hoping you knew of his whereabouts.” 

“I fear I will be of little to no help to you, my dear.” His choice of words, while peculiar, are selected carefully. “Seungmin is a near and dear friend to my heart and I truly hope that he is safe, wherever he may be. The thing I can say is, he had been acting a bit—” He pauses, seemingly pondering on the right word to say before continuing. “A bit…abnormal.”

“He had been here at your home for nearly two months, what exactly do you mean by abnormal?” You inquire, pressing Minho to say more, not caring of how your tone might sound.

“He began to have these dreams, and some active hallucinations. Completely plagued by them. Night terrors, I’d say. He feared whatever he had seen, and while he initially confided in me about it, he soon concluded that I was untrustworthy. Somehow, Seungmin lost touch with reality.” 

Plagued by nightmares is something that you take note of. A month into Seungmin’s stay at the Count’s castle, you began to have these vivid dreams. Some good, some horrendously terrifying and, well, a large percentage of particularly electrifying dreams. The most recent—waves crashing together on a violent stormy night on the sea. You’re aboard a ship, standing in the center of the forecastle, and all around you are piled up bodies; and there’s blood on your hands and arms, staining your skin. Blood soaking into the fabric of your clothing. It felt immensely real. You felt the unease of the rocking boat, you heard the crashing of the waves and the squawks of the birds circling overhead. Weirdest of all, you could smell the blood; almost craving it. The dream ends with the sounds of a heart beating and the rushing of blood flooding to your brain. And then there’s nothingness. 

The Count takes a sip of his tea, and you choose to follow suit. Though, the tea is bitter, even with the added sugar, and not slightly tart as Hibiscus tends to be. Quite frankly, the taste is gross, but you drink out of respect. You do your best to keep a straight face at the taste, quickly setting down the cup. A small smile appears on Minho’s face, exhaling with a short laugh. 

There’s a knock at the entrance of the door. In the frame of the door stands a slender figured man who seems to be a tad shorter than the Count. He’s rather cute with his medium length hair and round cheeks, though he wears a blank expression on his face. He turns to you, doing a brief bow and opening his mouth to speak. 

Minho interjects first, walking towards the other man. “This is Han. Very simply, Mr. Han is my servant. Forgive me, Han here, was supposed to see to your arrival, but he had other obligations to take care of.”

The two look at each other, but only the Count smiles. Han keeps the same stoic facial expression, looking more exhausted than anything. The Count begins speaking once again. “Y/N, here, is the fiancé of Mr. Kim. You remember Mr. Kim, don’t you, Han? Y/N informs me that Mr. Kim didn’t arrive safely back home, now is that right?”

The Count looks to you, and you stand from your seat, nodding. “I’ve gotten a letter of his departure but he hasn’t been home yet,” You let out a deep sigh. “I just miss him so much. I hope that he’s safe wherever he is.” 

The air in the room is thick with tension. For the three of you, this has to be an outstanding situation right? For you, as young as you are, to have the love of your life—the man you plan to marry and give yourself to—to go missing without much word. And for the Count, who has been a longtime friend of Seungmin, having to deal with the weight of potentially being the last one to see Seungmin. 

“A friend of Count Minho is a friend of mine,” Jisung smiles. “I’ll do my best to help you find Mr. Kim.” 

Han and the Count step off to the side to exchange words briefly. Han turns to leave and the Count turns back to you. “Hungry by chance?”

The dining room is rather spacious, and includes a fireplace, which seems to be a running theme within the Castle. The wooden floor panels are mostly covered by a large, deep red rug. Red is the main color of the decor of the room; the velvet dining chairs and all the flowers,—from the pansies to the roses—even the dinner plates; are red. Despite this, it’s clear that Count Minho has quite a bit of money to have afforded all of this: from paintings to small artifacts that decorate end tables and small statues of gargoyles. Perhaps he is indeed a collector of sorts. 

Minho pulls out your chair, pushing it back in once you’re seated. He then takes his seat at the other end of the table. There’s a spread of food on the table and various bottles of wine, to which the Count motions for you to help yourself to. After making yourself a plate, you pour yourself a glass of wine—a red, twirling the liquid within the glass, foregoing the tradition of smelling the aroma and instead shooting it straight back. The wine is rather sweet and washes down smoothly; more like juice than a wine. 

Count Minho watches you eat with inquisitive eyes, studying you. He drinks from his wine glass as he stares at you. “What exactly do you know about your fiancé’s career?”

You meet his gaze, eyes fixated on you with a squint; it all makes you a bit uncomfortable. It’s like Minho can read every bit of you with just a simple look. 

“Not very much.” You admit. 

“Oh?” The Count is especially interested now. “Had he told you anything about me then?”

“No. Only that you were a long-time friend.” You pour another glass of wine. “Although..”

You trail off, unsure of if you should mention the story you heard from the town. You look at the Count, and he raises an eyebrow to you. 

“I had been staying in the town nearby for a few days before coming here. And well, I’m not too sure how to explain it. The only things I know of you come from word of mouth, and well, they aren’t very good.”

“Go On.”

You recite to him the story you had been told about the man in the castle who would come into the town and terrorize its citizens. At the end of the story, Minho erupts in laughter. He’s holding his stomach and chuckling, wiping faux tears from his eyes. 

“Let us just say, I have more valuable things to do than whatever that is,” Minho rolls his eyes. “I only ask because you intrigue me. That, and I never thought of Seungmin as someone who would lie to their lover, really.”

The word lie is interesting. You’d always perceived Seungmin to be an honest man, really. The two of you forged your relationship on the basis of being fully honest with each other. You never thought you would ever come close to doubting Seungmin nor his truthfulness, his faithfulness even; but Count Minho’s tone of voice—the seriousness coating every bit of breath he takes—along with the fact that you don’t truly know of Seungmin’s work, has you second guessing yourself. Now it’s your turn to press him. 

“Continue.”

“I’m saying, you don’t know what the man does for a living but you choose to throw away all inhibitions and potentially roll yourself into danger for a man you almost transparently know next to nothing about.” The Count pauses to sip more of his wine. “Seungmin was into things of the rather unusual variety, I’ll have you know. If you want, I can show you the things that he and I were discussing.” 

You take Minho up on his offer, and he gives you a small smile in return. 

“While I’d love to get to work on such matters tonight, I’m afraid I must go to sleep. I have some important matters to tend to in the morning. Shall I show you where you’ll be staying?”

—

You follow Minho, out of the dining room and down the endless hallway. The wallpaper is practically peeling, and the higher ceiling riddled with cobwebs notably hasn’t been cleaned up in quite a longtime. The obvious decades old paintings that were placed against the walls had been covered in dust and grime, dimming the vibrancy intended by their various artists. He then stops at a white door, turning the knob to open it. The room is dark and cavernous, but with the help of a lit candle sharing its warmth with the candles previously naked and cold, you see that it’s actually quite spacious and bright. White and light brown decor gives the room a light and more alive look in comparison to the thick dreariness of the parts of the castle you’ve seen so far. It’s almost like venturing into another world, or peeking back into an oddly shaped past. 

“Breakfast will be served early in the morning. Sleep well.” And with a smile, Minho exits, closing the door behind him. 

In the silence, thoughts begin to fester, nipping away at your well-being. You’ve gotten next to nothing so far from this meeting with the Count, but tomorrow is a new day and you hope he can give you insight into this world of Seungmin that seems to be unraveling. It’s confusing—for a brief moment you find yourself questioning your decisions. Have all of your life choices led you to this exact moment? The Count is vague in his ways of doing things—it’s like he’s not even trying to hide the potential of his true nature. He appears like any other person, but there’s something more to him than what meets the eye. You’ve been caught in a web of mystery, slowly sinking deeper and deeper.

You find that your bags are sitting next to the bed and you reach in to find your night clothes. Once you lift your shirt over your head, you cannot help but feel like eyes are watching you. Covering yourself, you scan the room in an attempt to soothe your psyche, and as expected, you remain completely alone. Shaking the feeling, chalking it up to being nervous about being in yet another new place, you continue to change your clothing. Sitting at the edge of the bed, you reach into your bag to pull out a letter you received from Seungmin. 

“My dearest heart, 

There is not a moment that goes by where I am not thinking of you. On my lonely and rather daunting work evenings, I look to the sky and am reminded that we share the same view together. You are the one thing keeping me balanced and sane. I know that you are waiting for me to return, and I want nothing more than to return to the safety of your warmth. Until then, look to the sky and be reminded of me. 

K.S”

Once finished reading, you press the letter against your chest. The second to last letter you received. Initially, it was rather hard to sleep at night after you received it. You had longed for your lover—missed his existence to no end, and you still do. There is nothing in the world that you would rather have than the gift of your lover returning to safety. You long for Seungmin, aching for the chance to finally touch him again. To hug, to kiss, to feel every inch of him once again. Today marks the third week since you had last heard from Seungmin, and from tonight onward, you demand to get the answers you deserve. 

You gently place the letter onto the nightstand. You kneel onto the floor, elbows pressed against the bed with your hands together in prayer. You had never been religious, nor, in a situation in which you felt you needed to pray before—but it has become a habit of the last few weeks. Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply. 

“Dear God,” You begin. “Please align me with my lover. Please return him to me safely.”

Pulling back the covers, you snuggle into the bed, drifting off into an idyllic night's sleep. 

You’re stuck. Seemingly, your body is paralyzed; hands resting at your sides, legs pressed together. You try to move, starting with a pinky and then your foot, but the longer time goes on, the more your ability to move lessens. Unable to even move your head left or right. You’re completely stuck. Not to mention, stuck in some complete void of a room, unable to see anything. 

There’s a vibration around you. It’s a subtle vibration, though you can feel your body swaying back and forth as if suspended in the air somehow. Just then, there’s a spotlight. It shines in your face before spirling in circles, lighting up various parts of the area you are in; but still, there’s nothing but darkness, even in the brightness of the light. Just until you view a quick flash of something briefly catching the light. The light runs from the figure before spinning back to shine itself on the mystery. 

Despite its distance away, you can see the thickness of the short hairs that decorate the body of the arachnid. The many eyes of the spider sparkle in the light, its eight moving legs speeding their way over to you. You watch as it clicks its mouth, salivating as it makes its way to its fresh catch. 

Here you are: a mere fly in the realm of the spider. 

At a blink of an eye, the spider is circling you, inching closer and closer until you can no longer see it from your horizontal position. Suddenly! It lurches, jumping atop of you. The spider sinks its fangs into you, piercing your skin harshly, burning. The attack against your skin causes blood to splash everywhere, spraying onto your face and body. You shriek in horror—attempting to send signals for your body to wake up from its terror. Your entire body burns; throat dry and brittle from yelling so much. The area around where the spider’s fangs are latched inside of you, both itches and stings. Feels like you’re getting pumped for your blood yet also injected with its venom. 

If possible, your body gets stiffer. Cold. Vision fading.. And fading until there’s nothingness. All you can feel is the body of the eight-legged creature draped over you; taking and taking freely. 

Despite the nightmare, you feel rather refreshed waking up. A minimal amount of light shines through the curtains. Stepping out of bed to the faint smell of food, you yawn and stretch briefly before heading to the closed door. Stepping into the hall from the confines of the room you spent the night in, you take a few steps across the hall to look out into the window. It looks bright and comfortable outside, a stark difference between the drab, dreariness of the castle’s interior. 

When you arrive at the dining room, there’s a full spread of food. Toast, tea, and a plethora of fruits and berries. In the daylight, the interior of the dining room looks a lot dustier, as if it's barely used. And to be fair, it seems as though only the Count and his dedicated servant occupy the estate. Which you wonder about—does Count Minho have no family? And what about Mr. Han? Any lovers? Who exactly is the Count and what was Seungmin’s business with him?

“Will Count Minho be eating with us?” You ask as you take a seat. 

“Sir is taking care of some business this morning. This breakfast is all yours.”

“You won’t be eating?” 

“Ah,” Jisung sighs with a smile. “I had a big breakfast earlier.”

With that, Jisung lets you begin eating. He simply just stands there, and while his eyes aren't on you, you can feel him observing your presence, similar to Minho. 

“So, Mr. Han,” Playing with your food as you speak. “How long have you worked for Count Minho?”

“Only a few years. Feels like a lifetime, though,” He turns to you, a small smile on his face. 

“Are you also a friend of Seungmin?”

“I’d only spoken to Mr. Kim a few times before his most recent visit. I typically stay out of all of Count Minho’s business affairs. I prefer to deal with the home side of things,” Jisung nods. “Speaking of, you’re free to explore the castle if you’d like. The Count won’t return until later.”

“Really? Are you sure he’ll be okay with it?” The opportunity to explore this grand castle piques your interest. You raise your eyebrow towards Han and he nods in response. 

“It’s no problem, really. To warn you, some rooms aren’t used as much anymore so they might be a bit untidy. Almost time for some spring cleaning.” Han gives you a short, dorky laugh. He’s adorable, if that’s the word. He seems to be on the more timid side, probably doesn’t speak to many people other than Count Minho on any given day. “Jisung, by the way, you can call me that.” 

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” You smile. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

Jisung nods. 

“What room did Seungmin stay in?”

“The room that you are staying in.”

The castle looks rather different during the daylight. The hallways feel hollow, completely blank despite the moderate amount of clutter in the form of various books and paintings littering the sidelines. While the idea of a large estate is stunning, it is clearly a bit too much for only the Count and Mr. Han. You wonder if Count Minho has been previously married—or even married at all; to be fair he looks a little young, but it’s possible he’s had a lover in the past. Perhaps that’s why he’s so understanding of your pursuit to find Seungmin. 

You return to your room. Beginning at the bedside table, you tour around the room, looking for clues that might help you. Searching the dressers in the room, you make your way over towards the small desk in the far corner. Opening the drawers of the desk, there remains nothing but untouched letter paper. Scanning the area for any unchecked marks, your eyes fall towards the bed. Dropping to your knees, you crawl the short distance to the edge of the bed. Pulling the bed skirt up in anticipation only to be left with nothing but dust bunnies. This initial search leaves you empty handed but you go off to make your way through the rest of the Castle. 

The castle is indeed like a labyrinth. Some doors open to an empty, decrepit room of various doors. Admittedly, you’re a bit too afraid to open one of the random doors. You’re not familiar with the layout of the estate, and you refuse to get too deep into this trap of a home. One door opens to a windowless room, and the singular wooden chair in the middle causes you to back out of said room slowly. 

Continuing on your pursuit through the endless halls of Count Minho’s estate, you approach a doorless room. Without needing to walk in, you can tell by the bookcases that it’s a library of sorts. Making your way through the entryway of the library, you find that the temperature of the room is noticeably colder than the hall. The library has dark wooden shelves filled with books from the ceiling to the floor, and you know that if Seungmin was here, he’d be able to tell when and where the shelves were constructed. He would always pick up little pieces of knowledge like that—claiming that he didn’t know why yet, but knowing such would help further him in life; and importantly, in his studies. 

You run your fingers over the spines of the books as you stroll your ways through the library. There are books spanning across language and subject—the majority of it, completely unidentifiable to you. 

You come across a leather-bound book displayed on one of the bookshelves, cover forward. It’s dark, dusty, and might even be a little dirty. The cover of the book itself is twisted, the skin of the book twists and dives into different layers, somehow folding the cover of the book inside of itself. It’s complex and strange, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Just to hold it, the weight of the book is heavy, somehow warming up in temperature. To feel the book, to hold it in your hands, it intrigues you just as much as it disgusts you. 

The language of text presented on the pages is unknown to you. The drawings that accompany the writings, however, are disturbing. Dark and detailed illustrations of creatures that you would never have thought of. Upon the first page is a visualization of a winged creature with the distant silhouette of a man. Only there’s a huge eye where the head would be, and its legs are tangled and twisted together. Turning a page, you’re presented with another drawing. An illustration in charcoal of a dark figure. The drawing looks as though it’s been drawn in haste; a rushed, frantic effort. Alongside is another illustration of a mouth—though without ink, the artist did their best to emphasize the splotches of blood that stain the mouth. What stands out the most are the set of razor sharp canines that protrude from the teeth—two sets, specifically. Beholds, the only romanization on the page: Vampyre.

A chill runs down your spine, but you’re unable to remove yourself from the grasp that the book has. Turning page after page, overstimulating yourself with various images of creatures that are likely to lurk in the shadows. The longer you examine, the more your head pounds. Nausea interrupting all plans you may have had. Head spinning and spinning, visions bending and thrawn within itself. Figments of the images you’ve viewed imprinting themselves on your vision in dark splotches like a memory. The new and the strange tangling itself within your memories, hiding within them for safe keeping. 

“Y/N?” There’s a light voice that breaks you out of your spell. 

When you come to, Count Minho is standing over you, his cold hand pressed against your forehead. You look around the room, sitting in an opposite corner of the library than you originally remembered. 

“Are you alright?” He asks. 

“I’m not too sure,” You sit up straight in your seat. You look towards the open window and the sky outside is completely dark. Somehow, it appears that hours have passed. What a freaky and strange thing. 

When you look up at Minho from your position on the chair, you’re immediately pulled into the pools of his eyes, locked in. “You must be hungry, yeah? It’s dinner time.” 

Just like last night, Minho leads you to the dining room. Just like last night, he slides your chair out and pushes it in for you. The spread of food tonight is different from last night, and you notice that some of the decor around the room looks different as well. Your vision hasn’t quite recovered from its hectically blurred state, and in your moment of disillusion, none of this interests you.

“Is there something wrong?” Minho asks as he sits. What isn’t wrong? You feel a rather painful shift in your own mood. 

“I think I might be a bit tired.” You exhale. Despite aching for the continuous pursuit of knowledge, sickness continues to trail behind you. Uncertainty creeping its way up to the forefront of your thoughts. You’re unable to escape the feeling that there might be something seriously wrong. Anxiety rests in the pit of your stomach, slowly eating away at you. Refusing to look at Minho, you pick at the food on your plate. Honestly, you feel rather sick. Your vision, while still painfully blurry, continues to spin ever so slightly. Placing your hand flat against your forehead to find that you’re burning up on flu type levels. You look across the table toward Minho and your vision doubles, triples, then suddenly you're seeing eight versions of him. 

It’s a bit of a hassle to move the heaviness of your hand, fingers slowly creeping up to grasp onto the wine glass. You close your eyes to soothe your vision, taking the glass into your hand fully. 

Minho coos. “I was really looking forward to dinner with you; but if you’re tired we can postpone our conversation.”

Taking a sip and allowing it to savor on your tongue. The slight, unsuspecting note of pomegranate makes you smile—something comforting in the mixture of mess you’re currently feeling. 

Grace be to God. When you open your eyes, your vision returns to normal. It’s something of a miracle. 

“No. It’s fine. That strange book in the library,” You look at Minho and struggle to find the words. All that remains in your head is visuals of every creature you saw depictions of. 

“What book?” He doesn’t follow. 

“It has drawings of these strange creatures in it. Some kind of horror book, I think it made me a bit sick.”

“I’ll tell Han to search for it so that I can have a look,” 

Dinner continues with only a few moments of silence. The topics range from a variety—the original focus of conversation on Seungmin before venturing off elsewhere. Count Minho gives you insight on what he does; referring to himself as someone who studies human nature, communication and our state of existence. He loves the study of humans and thus dedicates his life to it, choosing to be of help in any way he could be. Of which, is how he met Seungmin, and from there, they became partners due to their similar interests. Somewhere, is a layer of information that Count Minho refuses to give up so soon. 

“May I walk you to your room?” Minho asks, rather politely, but your room is not too far from your current position. Still, you say yes to him. 

Unlike dinner, the very short walk is in total silence, but Minho’s presence is comforting. You reach the door to your room in no time and Minho steps in front of you before you can say anything. The silence continues as Minho and you stare at each other. Though, the silence turns to static when Minho leans in to kiss you. His lips on yours and you don’t even bother to pull away. Instead, you kiss back, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He pulls away in haste, muttering a goodbye before walking off into the darkness of the hall.  

You step into your room and therefore, instantly step into a pool of guilt and confusion. Seungmin is so far from the forefront of your mind—for you to indulge in a kiss with another man and to not think once about your lover. What kind of monster have you become?

Once changed into your night clothes, you peel under the covers and you pray. You don’t feel like yourself, and the feeling creeped upon you. The thoughts in your brain are mixed together, both elaborate and unintelligible, a mixture of things you know and things you never knew. Images of those same creatures stain the darkness when you close your eyes, peeling back layers of the person you once knew to be you. Before sleep finally engulfs you, you pray for the guidance of whoever is listening. 

Minho guides you towards the bed. Red and black satin sheets fitted across the bed and the pillows. Minho pushes you against the bed and huffs out a short laugh, smirking at you. You bite your lip out of nervousness, peering up at him. 

“You’re so beautiful, my rose.” Minho’s hand is soft against the skin of your knee. Lightly, he drags his nails against your thigh, inching closer and closer to the material of your nightgown. 

Before he does anything, he leans down to kiss you; eyes closing as your lips work in sync, souls melting together. The kiss deepens for just a moment until Minho pulls back, brown eyes staring into your own. He plants one more quick kiss against your lips before his hands begin working beneath your gown. He slides your dress up to your waist, admiring the softness of your belly and the smoothness of your skin. One kiss above your navel and another kiss below, is all he lets himself have before he gets too deep into it. 

You make it easy for him, foregoing underwear to allow your lover easy access. Minho can only scoff, but he shuts himself up with another kiss to your mound. “Just for me, my dear?”

“Only you, love.” You smile at him, motioning for him to come closer. Minho, of course, follows suit. He would give you a billion and one kisses if he could. 

When the kiss breaks, Minho drags you towards the edge of the bed. Spreading your legs apart, he drops to his knees beginning his worship of your cunt. Tongue flailing out, slurping up every drop of your wetness, soft lips drenched in your flavor—and there’s no other way Minho would rather have you than at his complete surrender. His hands grip your ass, trying to push you into his face. Lips covered in slick and spit, puckering around your clit, sucking it in; Minho’s head bobbing up and down slightly, moaning into your cunt. 

“So fucking delicious,” Minho mumbles, continuing with his feast. Your hands fly to his hair, pulling with every lick and suck he gives you. Moaning freely, not caring if the entire world can hear you. In fact, maybe the entire world should hear you. 

Minho eats you sloppily, savoring not only your taste, but the feeling of your cunt against his skin. The feeling of the softness of your pubic hair against his skin is like heaven to him. Sometimes, he’ll spend time rubbing this face against the hair before he dives into your cunt. Not to mention the feeling of your juices soaking into his skin, which he’d use as a natural moisturizer if he could. Minho’s obsessed with every inch of you; from your cunt to your skin, to the very blood that courses through your veins.

His fingers push into you as his tongue swirls against your cunt. His lips suck your clit into his mouth, tongue lightly beating against the tip of the bud. Minho pushes his saliva to the front of his mouth, soaking your clit in a mixture of his spit and your juices. 

Your fingers pull against Minho’s hair, tugging harshly against his scalp but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He might even ask you to pull harder. You push Minho against your cunt, slowly grinding your hips against his face. Moans bouncing off the walls as you drip onto Minho’s tongue. Minho takes this opportunity to suck on your clit just a tad harder, triggering your pending orgasm. Eyes rolling to the back of your head allowing you to see colors as warmth rocks through your body. Limbs daring to curl together, Minho doesn’t allow you to move from the hold of his hands nor the warmth of his mouth. 

Minho slowly kisses up your body. You can feel the remnants of his kisses even after he’s long gone from a spot because of the wetness on his lips. He kisses at your neck, then your cheek, and finally your lips. Deepening the kiss as he taps his cock against your cunt, you invite him in. 

Three long orgasms later, you and Minho are snuggled in bed, snoring softly beside each other. Suddenly, you’re woken up by a loud bang. Looking to your side, you find Minho unbothered, still asleep, chest rising gently with each breath. There’s another bang, louder and possibly closer than last. You slide out of bed, looking back at Minho’s sleeping figure before making your way towards the door, hand reaching for the glass door knob. 

There’s another loud crash as you twist the handle of the door. You step into the hall of darkness, wooden floor cold against the bottom of your feet. Closing the door behind you, you venture out into the darkness. The halls of the castle are quiet, unmoving; day in and day out they remain the same, even in the dead of night. It’s rather sorrowsome, actually. So full, yet so empty—the castle feels like it's dying. 

Another loud bang. Followed by another and another. One after the other, four beats apart. The knocking appears to get louder with each step you take towards the staircase. You raise your foot to take that first step, there’s another bang once you firmly plant your foot against the stair. Quickly but carefully, you make your way up the staircase. In the near distance, towards the end of the hall presents a glimpse of golden light. 

Letting your legs guide you, you make way towards the door at the end of the hall, almost floating. The knocking doesn’t stop, getting louder and louder the closer you get to the door; but when you try to halt, you’re guided to your destination by a sudden force; body stiffening, neck making a sharp turn as you peek into the room. The crackling warmth and light emitted from the fireplace sets a gorgeous, homey scene. 

“Help.. Me..” 

Your eyes shoot towards the ground until you find the fingertips of a man laying in a puddle of blood. But before your brain can process who the person is, you’re snatched away. Falling fast into a pit of darkness. 

You awake in the dead of the night to a knocking at your door. It’s soft and subtle, but has been consistent enough to pull you from your sleep. One knock after the other, four beats between each knock. 

Tossing the covers away, you step out of bed. Muscles tough and sore, there’s an unease as you rub the sleep from your eye, feeling as though you’re encumbered in your own head. You take another heavy step, the knocking still not ceasing. One step after another until you reach the handle of the door, and only then does the knocking stop, floorboards creaking as the sound of footsteps shuffles away. 

A minute goes by until you decide to open the door. The hallway is dark, the only light is coming from the window across the hall. You look towards the moon—there she is, full in all of her glory, bringing the spring equinox along with her. You walk towards the window, looking down towards the ground and noting that the snow has completely melted. There’s a dark, shadowy figure in your peripheral that breaks your appreciation for nature. Turning in the direction, there’s nothing in the distance. You follow, passing by the kitchen and making your way to the stairs. The shadow dissolves into the darkness at the top of the stairs, beckoning you to chase after it. 

Once you reach the top of the stairs, there’s a sliver of light peering from the far end of the hallway. The trek over isn’t that long, and once you’re within a few feet you slowly approach the door, tiptoeing your way over. Creeping up to the doorframe, you hold your breath as you peek into the crack of the room. There’s not much to see, just a steady fire and its continuous cracking. Until you hear a moan and your eyes dart to the location of the sound. 

There, you spot Jisung sprawled out on the chaise, half of his limbs hanging off as Minho straddles over him. Attached to his neck, Minho wastes most of his meal, letting blood slip from his mouth and drip down Jisung’s neck. You gasp, fully taken aback by the action you are witnessing. The townspeople were right to warn you—the Count is a monster. Or maybe something worse. 

After the accidental announcement of your arrival, Jisung locks eyes with you. Your gaze, however, is stolen by Minho once he turns around, peering up from his feeding position. He’s wide-eyed with blackness covering the entirety of his eyes, lips and chin stained red with blood. Once Minho realizes it’s you who interrupted his feed, he gives you a wide, bloody smile—showing off the two sets of fangs at the top row of his teeth, the outer fangs just slightly bigger than the inner fangs. For a moment, time seems to slow down; you watch as a small droplet of blood drips from one of Minho’s fangs, and before it fully releases, Minho swipes it with his tongue, licking over his fangs for extra blood. 

Before you can turn back and run, Minho is already behind you in the blink of an eye. 

“Unfortunately, my dear, running is useless,” The Count grabs you by the collar of your pajamas and forcefully drags you into the room. You fight him off but your hits do nothing to him. Letting go of you, Minho pushes you onto the ground. “Stay.”

Jisung stands up from his position laying across the chaise, dipping a rag into a bowl of water sitting on the side table. You watch Jisung with inquisitive eyes as he wrings out the rag, carefully cleaning up the marks and the blood stained to his neck. Minho, meanwhile, is facing the fireplace with his arms crossed and one finger pressed to his lips. Jisung finishes cleaning himself up, and begins moving around to avoid eye contact with you. In horror, you watch as Jisung takes a tarantula out of its cage and places it into his mouth, chewing as he turns to walk out of the room—leaving you alone and helpless in the clutches of Count Minho. 

Minho tsks once, then once more. A hand on his hip as he shakes his head. He extends his arm, quickly swiping away all of the candles and books the rest atop the fireplace as a loud, angry cry escapes from his chest.  

“I thought that maybe,” Minho begins. “Just maybe. I’d have an extra night or two before having to do this to you. You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” 

Minho turns to you. An insincere smile on his face, fangs hidden away but some of Jisung’s blood still covers his face. You spring to your feet, not wanting to stay on the ground when it’s clear that Minho has the advantage. Backing away from him slowly, eyes searching for anything to use as a weapon, though Minho can tell your every move. 

“Did you..did you do that to Seungmin?” You’re near tears. They don’t fall, only brimming along your tear ducts. 

Minho’s jaw clenches at the mention of Seungmin. “You really do care about him, huh? Seungmin this and Seungmin that. I fear your admiration for your lover has made you blind. You have played right into the palm of my hand, little lamb.”

“You want to know where Seungmin is? He’s dead.” Minho laughs. A deep belly laugh. “Though, it wasn’t me who did it.”

“Years ago, I showed Sir Kim something that I thought he could handle, only to find out otherwise. I promised him knowledge, the freedom to view the extensive, valuable, book collection within my library, at any time he chooses; and most importantly, the opportunity to discover something otherworldly—new to him, although very old to me. Something that could provide him everything he’s ever wanted. At least, that’s what this power did for me. Seungmin wanted to become a new man, and I was the only one who could offer that opportunity.”

“Then, two months ago, Seungmin showed up at the door. Exclaiming that while he wasn’t ready in the past, this time he’s ready to surrender his soul. Turns out, it was a ploy to kill me. I should’ve known better, truthfully. Seungmin is smart, almost as cunning as I, and well, he very nearly gave me a run for my money. But let’s just say, how should I put this, I have someone who is willing to do anything I say. Including kill.”

You shake your head in disgust, backing up from Minho; but he pursues.“What are you?”

“I once referred to myself as a God. However, over the years, I realized that I am God. I have seen men with beast-like abilities and looks, men with the ability to rise from the dead, but the simple power of those imbeciles doesn’t even come close to mine. It’s something entirely different.”

“I mean, you read that book didn’t you? A dull-looking half-dead creature with fangs? You’re quite different from Seungmin, but you’re still special. You might not have understood the text, but perhaps, you used context clues?” Minho continues, “You might not have known it, but your fiancé was a part of a very dark world, angel. You see, he was actually the one that wrote the book. And he left you blind to it all, not knowing of his inevitable future. And now, yours.”

Minho winks and moves closer to you with each word, though you take steps back, not wanting to be too close to him. Eventually your back hits the wall and Minho almost pressed against you. His sharp nails come up to your neck, tracing over until he finds exactly what he was looking for, inhaling deeply. 

“Are you going to kill me, too?”

“There,” He taps the tip of his finger against your neck, just above your collarbone. The sharpness of the nail presses into your skin, breaking the initial layer, not deep enough to cause bleeding. “If I put my mouth right here, I could drain all of you in less than six seconds. Kill you? Heavens no, I actually believe that you’re pretty valuable to me.”

Minho looks into your eyes, passing along discomfort in the form of a stare. Then he pouts at you, mockingly. 

“No need to be scared. I mean, it’s not like you can ever leave me, at this point, so it’s best you put your fear aside.” Minho smirks once more. “From the night you’ve arrived, you’ve been drinking my blood. I’m already inside of you. I know every little thought in that pretty little mind of yours, I’m in all of your dreams. And guess what? You will never, ever be able to get rid of me.”

“Now tell me, has Seungmin ever touched you like this?” Minho asks, the tips of his fingers tracing against your neck, palm cupping around your throat, he stands firm behind you. There’s dense heat against Minho’s fingertips and a slight burning sensation from the sharpness of his nails; it’s such an intense feeling, unlike any you’ve experienced before. As electrifying as the feeling of his touch is, it’s also revolting, horrendous. There was a spark whenever Seungmin touched you, but Minho’s touch is different; it burns in all of the right ways. 

“I could give you things Seungmin would have never even dreamt about,” Minho’s voice is soft, silky. The heat of his breath against your skin tickles, but ignites a particular burning of desire. Minho is something similar to the devil and still, despite it all, there’s a familiar heat that creeps up within you. “I could open doors for you that were previously closed. Anything you want, could be yours. All you have to do is accept all of me.”

The hand that had previously been resting against the softness of your belly, is held out for you to accept. You stare down at his hand, biting your lip at the temptation. Minho plants his lips against your neck to give you one small kiss after another. 

For the sake of Seungmin, you want to turn away. If this had been just a few days ago, you would have likely fought in honor of Seungmin. The entire reason you’re even here, in the Count’s castle, is because of Seungmin. And still, in spite of all of that, as much as it makes you feel physically ill, stomach turning at the thought, every single fiber of your being craves Minho. You can feel the heat of your bodies meshed together every time you imagine what it’s like to have him between your legs. When he looks into your eyes, it’s familiar—like home. 

Every alarm is firing off and still, you put your hand in Minho’s—accepting his offer. Minho’s hand interlocks with yours, and you can feel him smile in between his tiny butterfly kisses. His hand holds yours tightly, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. Plump lips dragging against your skin, until he stops momentarily—taking a deep breath. Minho lets out a sharp, rich groan; knees throbbing as he bucks into you. And it’s at that moment you can feel Minho’s cock pressed heavily against your ass. Minho holds you against him, hips moving against your ass slightly, as he breathes in your scent. 

The moment is broken once you feel four razor sharp punctures in your neck. Minho’s low, guttural moans vibrate against your skin as his teeth penetrate layers of skin. The feeling is strange—it stings and burns, but also has a light cooling sensation. 

With the more blood Minho takes, the more his eyes fade into black until the whites are no longer exposed. Minho is absolutely captivated by the taste of your blood. It’s absolutely bewitching. He can taste every memory, every inch of trauma and pain, all of your love and most importantly, Minho can taste a bit of your soul—completely unguarded and vulnerable; ready for him to take and do as he pleases with. 

Minho continues draining you of your blood. It’s around this time that your vision becomes blurry, the room grows disorienting, tipping from side to side with each blink. You’re clutching Minho’s hand as tight as you possibly can be, jaw slacking and freely giving away soft moans. Even though he’s drinking from you, Minho never stops the movement of his hips. Hand clutching your own, pressing your arm against your stomach firmly. His other hand is tight on your hip, holding you in place. Somehow, your body feels both light and heavy, like you’re nailed to your spot but also elevated, floating in space. Your eyelids are getting heavier, a milky white film covering your eyes as Minho continues to take and take from you.

By the time you feel like your legs are going to give out, Minho gives up on drinking from you. “I can’t believe you’ve been hidden from me all this time, my little lamb.”

Minho whispers into your ear, voice equal parts soft and sweet. The way he can easily slip between calm and composed and dominant and overbearing is scary. 

“Let’s make this official, what do you say, love?” It’s less of a statement and more of a demand. Minho bites into his wrist, pushing it towards your mouth. But you refuse, attempting to turn away, though Minho does not allow it. Forcing your mouth open with his other hand, fingers dipping into your mouth, watching with a smirk on his face as droplets of his blood drip into your mouth one by one. 

There’s not really any significant taste to Minho’s blood. Indeed, his blood is thicker than water—but also very smooth going down. Minho spins you around, lips fast against yours. This kiss is full of iron and spit, completely messy, tongues fighting against each other. You, surprisingly to Minho, are the one who deepens the kiss further, pressing your body against his. Hands running all over his body, tugging against his clothes. 

You can feel yourself changing rapidly. Inside of you is a particular burning passion that you haven’t felt in years. It’s amplified when Minho’s fingers trickle up and down your sides. When the kiss parts, you and Minho lock eyes. Your chest rises, breathing in deeply because the room has gotten a hell of a lot hotter—or is the oxygen leaving your lungs? 

Minho takes the lead this time, pushing you atop of the sofa. He stands over you almost menacingly, clouds of lust like darkness clouding his eyes. He takes the chest of his shirt and tears it in half with two hands, as easily as it takes one to blink. He lets the shirt fall from his body, pulling his arms from the sleeves. Unbuttoning his pants just slightly before he kneels on the couch beside you. His lips on yours once again, though briefly. Minho takes the fabric of your clothing and tears it in two, just as he did his own shirt. You’re completely exposed to him, completely naked beneath his stare. You put your arms up to shield your indecency, but Minho doesn’t allow it. Taking your wrists in his hands and pinning you to the comfort of the sofa. 

Holding your wrists with one hand, Minho holds your jaw in his other hand. “Wish you could see how heavenly you look right now.” 

At this moment, Minho decides that you’re the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. So does he worship this embodiment of a higher place? Or does he further defile it? Should he ravish you? Perhaps he should take his claim over a body and soul that is now his forever. The worship may come a little later. He looks down at you, a frenzied little fledgling overtaken by uncontainable lust. A near mirroring reflection of sin itself. You pupils are completely blown and the whites of your eyes grow into a red color. He stands tall above you, like a God. Eyes of lust looking back at you, so deeply into the crevices of what’s left in your soul. 

You claw up at Minho, wanting to feel him. Wanting to be comforted by the glory that is Minho. The Ultimate Being—your master. 

“Imagine if Seungmin were to see you like this, intoxicated with such lust—and none of it towards him,” Minho kissed over the spot where he bit you, planting more kisses against your neck. “Would he be pathetic? A coward who cums in his pants at the sight of another man touching you?”

Minho’s lips move from your collarbone to your chest, displaying a range of kisses against your skin. “Or would he demean you for disgracing him in such a way? Would he call you a whore at the sight of you, turning his face in disgust?” 

Minho continues talking in between kisses against your skin. Lips kissing down the valley of your breast as his left hand creeps up to fondle your left breast. You moan at his touch, the coolness of his skin against the heat of yours. Minho looks up at you. “My precious little lamb isn’t a whore, are you?”

You shake your head vigorously at Minho’s statement. He can only laugh at you. He doesn’t believe it and deep inside, you don’t believe yourself either. 

“Your whole purpose of being here was to find your fiancé, and instead, you’re beneath me and dripping onto the chaise. That doesn’t sound like something someone who’s not a whore would do, does it, little lamb?” 

You shake your head in denial. Reaching up to him, dragging the tips of your fingers down his chest. With each exhale, with each minute that goes by, it becomes harder and harder to fight your cravings. Thrusting your hips up, gyrating in the air, trying to entice Minho into touching you. Unable to sort the words in your head to form a coherent sentence. 

“But you’re fine with being a whore aren’t you?” Minho nods, pouting just slightly. When you’re not nodding along with him, he grabs you by your hair, forcing you to nod along with him. “What a good little lamb. From here on out, you’ll only be a whore for me, ok?”

Minho releases your hair from his clutches. Licking his palm, he drags it down from your navel to your cunt, pausing a moment to bury his fingers within the hair on your mound, slightly tugging at it. He teases you for the moment; fingertips feathering lighting against the skin of your inner thighs. He brings his fingers back to your cunt, dragging down your slit, teasing into your wetness. Minho circles over your clit with two fingers, watching your face as you bite your lip. Two of his fingers slowly slip inside of you soon after, thick, already knuckle deep inside of you. 

Minho’s free hand finds a new position, tightening around your neck. The roughness of his hands is missed when he slides his hand down your chest, cupping your breast. He leans down, sucking your nipple into his mouth, coating it with saliva, teeth slightly grazing against it. He continues scissoring his fingers into you, thumb pressing down flat against your clit. Minho moves his thumb in tender circles, still applying pressure. Swollen lips leave a mess of spit on your breast, dripping onto his hand. 

He lifts his head from his original position, eyes covering every inch of you. Once his eyes land on your cunt, Minho kneels—a quick kiss planted at your clit before he attaches his mouth to it, sucking you in. Warm, wet mouth slurping and licking, voice vibrating against your cunt. You moan into your hand, but Minho snatches it away; a quick, stern look up at you. The more he hears your moans, the sluttier and messier that Minho gets; moving away slightly to spit against your cunt, watching as it drips down to his fingers. All before he’s back at it, slurping and moaning against your cunt. 

“Fucking cum,” Minho talks into your cunt. He speaks his demand into you. The climax hits you hard, cum spraying all over Minho’s face, even drenching a bit of his hair. It takes Minho and yourself by surprise, and you’re almost ready to cover your face in your hands, but Minho flashes the most gorgeous smile to you. Face soaked, licking his lips to taste more of you. 

If he wasn’t firm about his desire to devour and conquer you, he was now. Minho fully undresses himself, cock hard and heavy, leaking and aching to be buried inside of you. It’s like your minds come together. Just with a touch you know the things that Minho wants to do to you. Your desires are equal and because of it, you’re a step ahead of him. Your eyes land on him, completely sucking into the visual of his cock. Large but not too veiny, a shade or two darker than the rest of his skin and it’s absolutely glorious. He’s thick, the tip of his cock heavy and shining with precum. It’s hard to keep your appetite for lust contained, and for a moment, you wonder why you’re even holding back—you’ve seen just a glimpse of freedom, is it too much to indulge and savor the taste of what you’re becoming? 

Your movements are faster than what the logical part of your brain can comprehend. One moment you’re spread open and the next, you’re straddling Minho, hand caressing his face. Minho looks at you with such an insatiable gaze. He hadn’t read it in the cards that you could possibly take control of the situation, and it enthralls him—what a wonder you are. You grind against his cock, sliding your slick cunt across his shaft. Pressing your hands to his chest for balance, adjusting the speed of your grinding until you’ve finally found the spot that sets off the fireworks within your brain. Unfortunately, it’s not enough for Minho, grabbing your hips and pressing you onto his cock, controlling your movements. Other than the added pressure, Minho guides your hips just a tad bit faster. 

Sliding up, you reach behind to hold Minho’s cock into your hand. It has a bit of weight to it and is slick with your juices. You tap the head of his cock against your cunt a time or two, then slowly sink down, engulfing him into your cunt. The thickness of his cock gives you a fervent sensation, cunt fluttering to take more of him, inch by inch. 

You throw your head back as you continue riding Minho. There's a brief, but slight sting of pain when you open your mouth to moan. When you look towards Minho, mouth agape, he looks back at you with such adoration and awe—the first time you felt his genuineness for something other than rage.  Minho helps you continue to ride him, his hands on your hips to guide you up and down his cock. You bring your tongue up to lick your lips when you finally notice the feeling of the fangs protruding from your gums. 

The feeling of exhilaration encompasses your whole being. You can’t help but let out a laugh at the current situation. You feel elated. You feel powerful. Pure and utter bliss slowly peeking out beneath the many layers of lust. 

“Bite me, my dear, go ahead.” Minho reassures you, a hand soothingly rubbing against your thigh. 

You indulge in the opportunity. Sinking completely down on Minho’s cock, crying out at the sensation of being filled by him. You press your nose against his neck, breathing in Minho’s scent before you sink your fangs into his skin. You can feel the shift in your eyes when you drink from him. His blood tastes immaculate like this. What divine nectar he carries within. It’s insanely sweet—not exactly in a tart or sugary way; he tastes similar to fresh fruit. 

You continue to drink from him, tongue licking haphazardly, unwilling to let any of Minho’s blood go to waste. 

From his blood to his cock, Minho is all around you. You feel so full of him, and you are in every sense of the word. His arms wrap around you, caging you in as you take your time feeding from him. He moves a hand between the two of your bodies, thumb pressed against your clit to rub in circles. You gentle rock against him, slowly increasing the speed of your hips once you realize you’re fairly latched onto him. Unwilling to free him from your hold, you would die like this if needed. 

Your climax hits you and transforms you into such a state of pure ecstasy. Every nerve in your body is electrified, and the blood of Minho amplifies that. Minho has you under a spell: blood coursing through your veins, cock pinned deep, spilling his cum inside of you. He’s so cold to touch, but you’re both on fire. It’s way too much yet you’re still captivated by him. Sent into overdrive, your body gets heavier—it's hard to control and you continue to take and take from Minho. It’s no problem to him, though; hand on your back to soothe as your body becomes stiff atop of him.

You awake in Minho’s arms, not completely sure of where you exactly are. The second you open your eyes, you’re not nearly ready for how extraordinarily bright the lights in the room are. You groan in response, but Minho is alert to soothe you. 

“Be still, my little flower.” Minho is whispering, purposefully; he knows first-hand how troubling it can be to be reawakened like this. But still, his voice rings around your head. 

How strange. You can hear every little sound a lot clearer, a lot louder. The initially faint crackling of the fireplace now louder than before despite the distance. The heat of the fire reaches you as well, blazing, although it does not stick. The ticking of the clock is a doomful reminder of the passage of time. Then you look at Minho, and you can hear how hollow he is. There’s an absence within him, a huge, dark, cavernous hole. He is nothing more than a host for whatever this disease is that he has given you. A man without a soul. 

And still. He holds the entire world in his hands. 

“There’s so much I have to teach you,” Minho expresses this with great excitement. He presses a chalice of blood to your lips and just a whiff of the smell puts you in a daze; salivating and feigning to taste. “Now here, drink up.”

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Banchan x F!Reader & Jisung x F!Reader TW : Bangchans : pregnancy ; morning sickness ; general angst ;. Jisungs : menstrual cycles ; really bad period cramps ; Han being an asshole ;. BOTH : FLUFF AT THE END I SWEAR!! Word Count : Bangchan (2.1k) Han (2.2k) TOTAL : 4.3k Request : This is so heavily requested!! I'm sorry for keeping everyone waiting!! Chan's specific theme was requested so I'm fulfilling that one right now with this! I will do the other members as well, I'll get to them, I promise!!

Bangchan

Nausea was usually something that you were able to overcome quite quickly, you’d just drink a little bit of water and lay down until the feeling subsided. It wasn’t something that would keep you from doing the chores that you promised Chan that you’d do, it definitely would never stop you from making sure dinner was ready for when he came back from the office. Chan worked hard, and although he always told you that you didn’t have to do all that you did while he was gone, you thought that it was the least you could do. 

Today in particular was by far the worst day, and your attempt at swallowing back the bile in your throat as you normally would when you’d start getting that queasy feeling in your stomach was proven pointless. It was a miracle that you were even able to make it to the bathroom in time to lean over the toilet, your throat burning from the acids that came up from your empty stomach as you heaved over the seat. 

Throwing up was awful, but throwing up literal bile was the worst. Your head was spinning and your stomach felt way too tight from the constant retching, the feeling almost making you throw up again. The taste in your mouth was just as bad, and you pushed yourself up off the floor to drink the water from the faucet out of the palm of your hands. Beads of sweat clung to your forehead and you felt absolutely exhausted just from the physical exertion it took to throw up. A quick nap wouldn’t be bad, you’d wake up before Chan got home and you’d have everything done by the time he got through the door. At least, that’s how you planned on things going this evening. 

Of course he didn’t expect everything to be done for him when he came home from work, he didn’t start dating you so that you could be a maid and a chef for him, he genuinely just loved being with you. That didn’t mean that he didn’t appreciate it though, and some nights he’d even look forward to it, especially on nights like tonight. The new song he was working on just didn’t seem to line up right, he couldn’t find any source of motivation, he had been at work for hours but he hadn’t gotten anything done. He was annoyed, he was upset with himself, he was hungry, and he was tired. 

“Babe, I’m home.” He called out, kicking his shoes off after walking through the front door, his eyes finally glancing up and looking around when he realized just how quiet it was. Not just that, but the smell of dinner wasn’t wafting through the house… There was no smell at all, which was strange. Your shoes were still in the doorway, perfectly straight right next to his. Maybe it’s just because he was running a little late and you didn’t want to make dinner too early… You must be in the bathroom or something. 

He continued in through the house, making his way to the bedroom and slowly opening it. Now, deep down he knew that he shouldn’t be mad, you were his girlfriend, not his servant, but something about the sight of you curled up underneath the blanket, surrounded by toppled over laundry piles… It was infuriating. You really just decided halfway through that you didn’t want to do it and you just… took a nap. 

“Must be nice…” He said, just loud enough to stir you from your sleep, your eyes slowly opening before repeatedly blinking to get the sleep out of them. “Look who finally woke up? Did you have a nice nap?” You quickly jolted up, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands before looking around, your mouth falling open into a small ‘o’ when you saw him standing there. “Was one basket of laundry too much for you? Huh?” 

You scanned over the piles of laundry, whispering out a curse before scooting across the bed towards them, trying to refold and situate them as quickly as possible. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t feeling well. My stomach’s been acting up lately… I don’t know what’s wrong.” You murmured, grabbing out balls of clothes that were still tangled up in the basket. “I’m thinking… Maybe-” 

“Maybe it’s because you’re lazy?” He cut you off, and your head whipped up fast to look at him wide eyed. “I mean, good god, who falls asleep while folding one basket of laundry?” His head shook as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what, just go back to sleep. Clearly you can’t even do the simplest of things.” 

“N-No, it’s…” Tears were already stinging at your eyes as you rushed to fold the clothes in front of you. “I just don’t feel good… I don’t know what’s going on… I…” The heavy breathing was causing you to get nauseous again, the feeling of being attacked by him for something that both he and you didn’t even understand. He didn’t even know what was going on, he was never home, and now he was coming down on you. 

He yanked the shirt out of your hand, throwing it back into the basket before picking it up off the floor and carrying it to the door. “You think I don’t get sick? I still have to work. You’re just being ridiculous.” He mumbled, dropping the basket on the floor right outside the door. “It’s whatever though, just go do what you do best. I guess I’ll make dinner tonight after working all day too. Fucking fantastic.” He kicked the basket across the hallway before stepping out and slamming the door behind him. 

The sound of kitchen utensils being slammed against the counter and the fridge being opened and shut forcefully could be heard throughout the house, the constant loud noises causing you to jump, and you wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep even if you wanted to. You didn’t want to though, you wanted to talk to him because whatever was going on was starting to scare you. You had never been this sick for this long, and you didn’t have any other symptoms, it was just the random bouts of nausea. 

Suddenly the smell of ramen was filling the air, and you would usually love the smell of it, but right now it had your stomach turning as every single scent of the different spices filled your nose. “Chan…” You groaned, kicking the blankets off of yourself and heading out of the room. The smell hit you harder now and you covered your mouth and your nose, gagging silently as you moved into the kitchen and turned off the burner much to Chans surprise. 

“The hell are you doing?” He muttered, lightly swatting your hand away to turn it back on, and now just the sight of the red broth boiling in the pot had you retching. “What’s your problem?” He grumbled, moving you to the side as he stirred the contents in the pot, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore, leaning over the sink and throwing up, the force behind it sending the bile shooting out of your nose. “Hey! Hey what’s… hey!” He shouted, turning off the burner once more and standing behind you, holding your hair away from your face with one hand as he rubbed your back. 

“Fuck…” You sighed, turning on the spicket and washing out your mouth before grabbing a napkin to blow your nose. “I think I’m dying…” You whispered, a shudder running through you as you dropped down to the floor, leaning your forehead against the cold metal of the dishwasher. Your entire face was covered in sweat and you could barely catch your breath, that alone scaring you even more and causing you to breathe even heavier. 

“C-Calm down, it’s going to be okay.” Chan said, dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands firmly cupping your cheeks to look at you. “How long have you been sick like this?” He asked frantically, his thumb quickly wiping the tears from your cheeks. Your shoulders shrugged as you mumbled out a soft “a while” in response. “Jesus Christ… okay. We’re going to the hospital.” 

You laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, hating the fact that you were there but thankful for the lack of IVs. The doctor had taken a couple blood samples and those were the only needles that you had needed for the time being. Now you just wanted to relax, and as tired as you felt, the words that Chan had said earlier had you keeping your eyes open. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were feeling this way? Hmm? You told the doctor it’s been going on for a month and a half almost… How could you not tell me?” 

“You’re always at the office… you’re always working…” You muttered, balling up the blanket in your hands. “I don’t like bothering you while you’re working. You’ve got more important things to do than dealing with me.” You sniffled softly, quickly rolling over onto your side to face away from him, tears trickling down from the corner of your eyes. 

“What are you talking about? You’re extremely important to me, babe.” He cooed, not even bothering to try to roll you back over to face him, instead scooting the rolling chair around to the other side of the bed so he could see you. “All you have to do is call and I’ll come to you, I love you…” 

Your lips pulled together into a thin line as you looked past him. “I should have just laid in bed… went back to sleep and died. It’s what I do best…” He sighed heavily, knowing that those words were only in your head because of what hr had said earlier. He already felt awful about saying them, but now seeing you here like this, he felt even worse. 

“I don’t want you to do that… I want you to be here with me forever…” He whispered, reaching out to caress your cheek, his touch feather light against your clammy skin. “I’m sorry I spoke to you that way earlier… But once we find out what’s wrong and when you get better, I’ll make it up to you. Okay? I promise.” 

The knock at the door came and the doctor peaked in, a wide smile on her face as she waved to both you and Chan. It was a strange expression considering you literally thought you were on the brink of death, maybe she was just trying to lighten the mood before delivering the news. “So the results came back.” Chan nodded his head, his breaths becoming quicker as he waited for her to continue, clearly impatient. “Congratulations. You’re pregnant.” 

You blinked a few times, your mind struggling to process the information that was just given to you. Chan was also shocked into a state of silence as he stared at the doctor who was still smiling just as bright. “A baby… Is making her feel like this?” He questioned, and she simply nodded, walking closer to the bed and pulling a sheet of paper off the clipboard she was carrying, the words morning sickness printed in bold letters across the top and underneath a lengthy article about it. “Well… how… how far along is she? Why is she throwing up so much?” 

The doctor giggled lightly as she slipped the clipboard under her arm. “She’s about 4 months right now. Morning sickness can come at any time and it can be just nausea, or it can be actually getting ill. It depends on the person. I’d recommend setting up an appointment with your OBGYN as soon as possible though, just to get you in the system.” She nodded her head, backing up towards the door. “Congratulations again. Whenever you’re ready, you can head on out and sign the release forms at the front desk.” 

Once she was gone, Chan swiveled the chair back in your direction, still slack jawed at the unexpected diagnosis. “Well… You’re not dying, so that’s good…” He said softly, and then, as if the news had fully processed in his mind, his lips slowly pulled up at the corners, his hand holding onto yours as his thumb brushed along your knuckles. “I know this is unexpected… But I know we can do this… I love you, I know already that I want to have a family with you… and there’s nothing wrong with starting a little bit early…” He chuckled softly, standing up and helping you to your feet. “We’re going to be fine. Let’s get home and relax though, take a nap, I think you’ve earned one.”  going to be right here with you the whole time.”

Jisung

“Pookie butt!!” Jisung called from the living room while you were in the bathroom, waiting for you to come out before he continued. He was standing in the doorway, pulling on his shoes, waiting for you to come out to say goodbye to him. Once you emerged from the hallway and ran over to him, his arms were immediately around your hips, his face nuzzling into your neck. “I’m gonna be sleeping at the dorms tonight, I’ll be working late and I know you hate when I come in at weird hours, you get all panicky and scared.” 

“I do not!” You retorted, pushing back against his chest lightly as you looked up at him, but the smile he was wearing never failed to soften you up immediately. His laughter had you giggling along with him, burying your face in his chest as his hands lightly squeezed your sides. 

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t come at me swinging a baseball bat one night because I came in at 3 in the morning. You almost killed me, pookie poo.” He teased, and you couldn’t even deny it because it was the truth, and while you had apologized profusely for it for an entire month, now you were able to laugh about it with him. “You gonna be okay though? You gonna be able to sleep without the best boyfriend in the world laying beside you? Hmm? Can you do that? Do you need me to come home tonight?” 

“I think I’ll manage.” You said between little fits of laughter, grabbing his jacket from off the hook and handing it to him before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, the one thing that would certainly keep him from teasing you for at least the next 30 seconds. “What time do you think you’ll be back home though? I’m gonna run to the grocery store and get some of your favorite snacks, nothing but the best for my hard working man.” 

His cheeks flushed a light shade of pink at your words, and he quickly kissed you again to try to distract you from noticing it. “This is why you’re the best girlfriend, best pookie poo, my one and only schmookem boops.” He nuzzled his nose against yours, clearly procrastinating, he hated having to leave you, especially if it was over night. “I’ll try to be back by the evening. We can eat some ramen and watch movies, hmm?” You nodded your head in agreement as you opened the door for him, giving him one last kiss before saying goodbye. 

That night you had started your period, and you had fallen asleep with your fingers crossed that the cramps wouldn’t be as bad as they usually were when you woke up. Of course, you weren’t that lucky, and when you did wake up in the morning, it was like your cramps were your personal alarm clock. You could barely even roll over to get out of the bed, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone walk through the grocery store. 

You hated getting your period, it was a pain in the ass in every single way, shape, and form. It had completely slipped your mind that you were due for it, and you didn’t have any pain medication to even slightly reduce the pain from your cramps. You were practically bed ridden, curled up in the fetal position under the blankets, your breaths labored as you tried to get through each one that came so frequently that you weren’t even able to get a break. 

Just the simple task of getting up to get a drink of water left you doubled over in the middle of the kitchen, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to breathe your way through it just to get to the couch. Tears pricked your eyes as every minute your stomach would tighten up and your back would ache and you’d try your best to maneuver into a more comfortable position, but it seemed that there was no way that you could lay to rid yourself of the pain. 

You had tried to call Jisung, but his phone went to voicemail each time, clearly busy with work and you didn’t want to keep bothering him. You hoped that at some point he’d just call you back before he got home and you could tell him what was going on and ask him to bring you some ibuprofen. The only thing you could do at this point was try to sleep through the pain. 

When the door unlocked, you slowly opened your eyes, smiling up to Jisung as he walked through the front door, kicking off his shoes and going over to you. “Looks like you’re already ready for movie night. I’ll just get the snacks, you stay comfy.” He made little finger guns as he made his way to the kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing as he searched, and if he had answered the phone he would know what was going on, but you didn’t expect him to be so upset about the lack of snacks either. “Where are they?” He called from the kitchen, and you slowly sat up on the couch, looking over the back of it to see him. 

“I didn’t get to go to the store today.” You said, the bright fluorescent bulbs that hung in the kitchen burning your eyes as they glowed behind him, so you quickly laid back down, keeping your eyes shut to try to fight off the headache that threatened to come. “I’m sorry… I just… I’ve been cramping and my head hurts so bad… I couldn’t make it to the store.” 

“Really?” He posed the question, and you thought that for a second he would show some sort of concern like he usually would, but instead he came back into the living room, standing over you as you laid curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. “You really didn’t go to the store because of a couple cramps? There’s girl idols that literally do entire dance routines when they have their periods and you couldn’t walk? Boohoo. Come on, get up. Let’s get the snacks.” 

He reached out to grab your hand, but you quickly pulled it away, your eyes opening just enough to glare at him. You weren’t used to him being so insensitive, and maybe he had a bad day at work, maybe he couldn’t sleep well last night, but whatever the reason, he had no right to practically insult you for not feeling well. “No. I’m in pain, and if you want to go get your fucking snacks so bad, then go get them… But you can go right back to the fucking dorms when you’re done shopping.” You snapped, pulling the blanket up around your face and closing your eyes. 

“Fine!” He retorted loudly, his hands flying up in the air with annoyance as he walked away from you. “But I’m getting really fucking tired of you using your period cramps as a reason to get out of doing literally anything. It isn’t even that bad.” It was like he was trying to piss you off, and it was working really well. He didn’t know shit about the way you were feeling, and for him to assume that you were acting just to get out of going grocery shopping was infuriating. 

“Would you just get the fuck out already?!” You shouted, only for your words to be followed by the door slamming shut, your headache only worsened by the sound of it. You hadn’t even gotten your medicine, and now you were alone once again, and the cramps were only getting worse, and now you were in pain and upset. 

“Weren’t you literally just back home?” Bangchan questioned when Jisung walked through the front door, and he could only assume that the oldest was talking about the fact that he hadn’t even been gone for more than an hour, and when he had left he had excitedly announced that he was having movie night with you. “Did you get Y/N the medicine she needed? She sounded really bad over the phone…” 

Jisung stopped in his tracks on his way to his own room, turning to look back at Chan. “What are you talking about? She called you?” He inquired, slowly walking over to the couch where Chan was sitting. “What did she say?” Obviously he was worried about you, and the only reason he didn’t run back into the house and apologize was because he was embarrassed. He felt like shit for going off on you, and he knew that you’d both need a bit to cool down. 

“She called Minho, asked him to bring her some Tylenol or something. She was crying… He felt really bad so he already left.” Chan explained, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Jisung. “What did you do?” He could read Hans face clearly, and while he wasn’t one to be nosy, he did want to make sure that nothing too serious had happened. You made Jisung happier than anyone else ever could, and he didn’t want that to be ruined for his friend over something small. 

“M-Minho?” Jisung stammered out the name, his hands running through his hair as he grew even more anxious. “Why would he go? That’s… That’s not his place… H-He can’t do that.” He was becoming frantic as his fingers continued to run across his scalp, becoming tangled in the strands that got knotted. “And she was crying?!” 

Bangchan nodded slowly, knowing that nothing he said or did would be able to calm him down now that Jisung was like this. He was practically spiraling and the only thing he could even attempt to do was tell him that it would be okay, although he was sure he wouldn’t believe him. “Look, if you’re so worried, then just go-“ But he didn’t even get the chance to finish the sentence before Jisung was rushing out the door, his shoes barely even on as he hopped on one foot down the hallway to get to the elevator. 

Although he knew that Minho meant well by going there to help you, it felt like he had crossed a line that no friend should ever cross. Going over to his house with his girlfriend when he wasn’t there. It was uncalled for, and even if you had called Minho to get you some medicine, Minho should have contacted him first. It shouldn’t matter that he walked out the door on bad terms, at the end of the day you were still his girlfriend. 

He rushed through the front door and he didn’t know how to feel, seeing Minho sitting on the couch with you had anger rushing through his veins, but it’s not like the two of you were cuddled up or anything, you were on completely opposite sides of the sofa. “Was waiting for you to come.” Minho teased, turning his head as far as he could to look at Jisung who stood like a statue in the doorway. 

He completely ignored the older member, moving to squat down in front of you, his hands grabbing yours tightly as he looked up at you with glassy eyes and dampened cheeks. “Why wouldn’t you call me? Why did you call him? Are you going to leave me? I’m so sorry, baby… I didn’t mean what I said… Don’t leave me…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him, lifting your intertwined hands to brush the tears from his cheeks. “You were mad… we were mad at each other when you walked out… I didn’t think you’d come rushing back to bring me the medicine. That’s why I called him…” You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched his eyes grow wider, almost like a puppy who was just told they were misbehaving. 

“I was a big dummy… I know how bad your cramps get, I was being an ass. I shouldn’t have compared you to anyone because you’re just… you’re amazing and beautiful and there’s no one else in the world like you.” He kissed along your knuckles before brushing his thumb against them, giving you a sad smile. “Will you ever forgive me pookie schmooks?” 

A sound of disgust came from Minho as he quickly got up from the couch, his face perfectly expressing how he felt. “You two are the cringiest people I’ve ever seen in my life and I’m leaving. Get well, Y/N. Goodbye weirdo.” He said to both you and Jisung, practically running to the door as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. His reaction was just the icebreaker the two of you needed to get over the awkwardness that was felt. 

“Did you… Get your snacks?” You asked nervously, keeping your eyes down, wondering if he’d act out again just from the snacks being brought up, but his head shook in response before it was laid against your lap. “Do you want me to go get them? I think the pill is starting to kick in…” 

“Mm… no.” He hummed, his smile growing wider as he looked up at you. “I just want to cuddle with you and make sure you feel good and stay feeling good.. We can order in tonight… I just want to stay with you.”

[redpiperfox]

Yo what A+ ideas!!! Love them all!!!! 👀

I got a princess shift so (picks up quill and twirls it a bit)

My dear Ei~~

How are you, lovely~?

If you were to throw skzitzy back a few hundred years to medieval times, who would you make royalty and who would everyone else be~? 👀

Eagerly awaiting your reply,

Red~ 🦊🌹

why hello red i am doing quite splendid, i woke up an hour ago and yet i haven’t gotten out of bed, enjoying my slow morning

AGGGHHHH ok i would make chanjeong royalty for one kingdom, and lia for another. chanjeong just has that “im sneaking out of the castle at night to go meet up with my ragtag friends so my older brother, the crown prince (alternatively, king), doesn’t know what im doing” vibe, and lia has that charming “i go to all the foreign meetings to sweet talk the ministers and governors” energy. lots of potential there

minho — i just can’t get the image of him running a bakery out of my mind. idk like while jeongin goes to hang out with his friends, minho is there as a pseudo-chan to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble. probably waves those long-stemmed wooden spoons around when he talks

changbin — traveler of goods! merchant. “UNCLE’S IN TOWN” type of guy, loves seeing the sights

hyunjin — castle guard and that’s totally not biased to the fact that i have an abandoned wip where he is exactly that. very stoic, never talks, crazy talented with weapons tho

jisung — fa…farm bo…boy. kind of like in velvet, actually, yeah, EXACTLY like velvet

felix — older brother figure that everyone in the orphanage looks up to. makes a little extra bag by working at minho’s bakery

seungmin — town librarian (or librarian assistant) for suurreeee. kind of prickly but has a soft spot for jeongin, they have a love-hate but the hate is just a joke relationship

yeji — duke’s daughter. she knows hyunjin, and privately, likes to spar with him

ryujin — i considered her for a royalty role too for (jazz hands) juxtaposition between personality and position, but maybe next time. probably in the orphanage too w lix? bad cop good cop dynamic

chaer — dancer for fun! performs at all the town festivals, huge social personality, hems and sews and gets to chat with the girls all the time

yuna — i can’t characterize her well bc i don’t watch any itzy content but. probably works at minho’s bakery too. cashier/sells at the markets for them? maybe his sister. by blood or pseudo, nobody is too sure bc minho just keeps to himself about that kind of stuff

[sanakimohara]

Throwing some story ideas around rn so I’ll remember to write them later:

Personal Trainer Changbin

Ballet Instructor Minho (based off of Swan Lake)

Priest Minho + Chan

Street Racer Jisung

Winter Prince Felix (Royal x Servant/Captive Trope)

Rich Heir Hyunjin (Enemies to Lovers Trope)

King/Emperor Chan (Betrothal Trope)

Stalker/Ghostface Killers Seungmin + Jeongin

Special Forces/COD 3racha (Mutual Pining Trope + Free Use)

SO MANY IDEAS UGHHHH it’s too many and I still have requests to fill. I need to jot these down though, see what you guys think about them, and then I’ll go from there…🖤

A poll will be up later but I’d appreciate feedback on this post as well. 🖤

oh….and here’s a little treat for you guys…

Isn’t he just so dreamy?… 🖤 credits to the creator..

[ihavethedreamies]

Up Close | What the Heart Wants (2)

Qian Kun - NCT/WayV

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~7.3k and all of it is smut

Pairing: Kun x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Altered History AU!, Royalty AU!, Smut, No Plot Whatsoever, Self-Indulgent as Hell

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used, Pet Names (Sweetheart, Princess, Pumpkin, etc.), Swearing, Filthy Words/Dirty Talk, Kissing, Hand Kink, Slight Corruption Kink, Praise Kink, Creampie/Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink (obviously), Soft/Dom! Kun, Big Dick! Kun (obviously), Cockbulge, Cockwarming, Hickeys/Marking, Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Squirting, Spanking, Just a Bit of Bondage, Breath-Play, Thigh Riding, Hand Job, Fingering/Finger-Fucking, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Intercrural/Thigh Job, Sex on the Stairs, Mirror Sex, Unprotected Sex (Would not Recommend), Kun Being Really Fucking Sexy (as usual) there's so much in this dear lord

Part 1: From Afar - This story can be read as a standalone, since there is no story. I would recommend reading the first part, but you really don't have to.

Disclaimer: I do have the whole cock-bulge thing in this. I understand this could be a bit offensive to some who are on the heavier side (I am in that group as well). Sorry if this doesn't align with your body type, this is just a work of fiction.

Author's Note: Oh Holy Fuck, look at this. I know I said my Good Enough story for Jisung was filthy, nope. This is what I have decided to call a mud puddle because it's that filthy. This is the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written and might ever write. There is maybe two paragraphs of plot at the beginning and end, otherwise its literally 7k+ words of smut.

P.S. Like I said on the last part, Kun is my ultimate bias and so this is my gift to myself.

I split this into two different parts because it would be so long otherwise, plus I wanted this to be independent if someone didn't want to read the first part.

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

The sun was setting by the time all the servants and movers left. It took so long since they had to set up everything, even finish decorating. The wait was killing you, probably Kun as well. With bated breath, you watched the door shut, hearing the click loudly and you dashed forward to look out the side window, watching the last helper walk down the sidewalk. Stepping back, you spun around, your flats let you do so smoothly on the wood floor. You bit your lip playfully making Kun chuckle. Watching, enthralled, he removed his blazer, showing his sleeves up, stalking closer.

"Come here, sweetheart." You met him halfway and he yanked you into him as you giggled. His forehead bumped against yours as you both smiled like idiots and when you opened your mouth, you didn't get the chance to speak, his lips already on yours. You whined, fingers gripping the thin fabric of his white button up. Kun's hand buried into your hair at the back of your head, tilting your head to his preferred angle, tongue slipping its way into your mouth when you moaned at the tug. He pushed your body back with his till it hit a table in the entryway. The wooden vase on the table was luckily filled with fake flowers because it hit the floor as he lifted you onto the surface. Finally, you heaved for air when he pulled back, that sinfully delicious smirk present on his face.

"You need to tell me right now, sweetheart, what I can do to you." He twisted his rings off, letting them simply cling on the floor, then he took his watch off, not caring if it broke when it hit the wall after his toss.

"Anything." Your lips brushed his since he was still so close, your hands cupping his face, thumb running over his jawline. His hands grabbed the hem of your thigh-high socks, pulling them down and removing your flats as well. The gentleness of the action tugged at your heart, but the look on his gorgeous face tugged at your core.

"Anything? You might regret that (Y/N)." Your body shuddered hearing his voice sneak your name straight into your ear as his nose nuzzled the side of your face.

"I promise I won't." Kun chuckled, the sound rumbling straight to your cunt, making you sigh. He toed his own shoes off, kicking them behind him, fingers undoing his belt. The leather snapped as he tugged it hard from the belt loops of his pants and it clattered to the floor as well.

"No? You sure?" His hips pressed against the table under your butt, bringing him even closer. Even through layers of clothes, the heat of his body against yours caught your skin on fire, goosebumps rising all over.

"Please, I want you…"

"Want me? Want me to do what?" You knew he was teasing you, but you didn't care, he was right in front of you, his lips lightly brushing your skin, the scent of his cologne invading your mind, and you wanted to taste him again.

"God, I want you to fucking ruin me." You managed to sigh out, head swimming when he ground his hips into you, and you knew for a damn fact that he wasn't hard yet.

"I think I can manage that." he hummed, "safe word?"

"S-Safe word?"

"Sweetheart, I need one or I'm not continuing." What was he planning? Whatever it was you couldn't wait.

"U-uh, Ceres." The choice made his smirk falter into a soft smile, but he regained his composure.

"There's really nothing you're against?"

"Not like, bathroom stuff…"

"Obviously." Kun huffed, shaking his head, a bit worried that people even did that.

"What do you like, sunshine?" He had straightened up, so his face wasn't at your throat, his hand holding yours, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. The move would be so incredibly sweet if not for the context of the conversation. Before you could even try and think of your answer, he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles, then took your index and middle finger into his mouth, sucking. You shivered, whimpering at the feeling, thighs twitching so hard he could feel it where he pressed in close.

"U-um…your…hands." You were more focused with how his hand seemed to dwarf yours than even your own fingers in his mouth. Kun arched a brow, pulling your fingers away, wrapping his own around the saliva slicked digits.

"Really?"

"Yes." You swallowed, twisting your hand around his and bringing it close to your lips, much in the same way he did. He leered down at you, tilting his head, making the small pendant in his left ear sway. You dazedly looked over his hand, entranced, so he moved the rest of the way himself, thumb landing on your bottom lip. You mewled and eagerly took his thumb into your mouth, sucking around it.

"You're such a good fucking girl." Kun groaned, shifting his leg, trying to ease the pressure his pants were starting to put on his hardening cock. Your other hand came up to hold his, and you pulled his thumb from your mouth, kissing and licking over the rest of his fingers, enthralled with how big his hand was, how long his fingers were. You gasped when he yanked his hand from yours, but it quickly grabbed your hair at the base of your head and he inhaled your whimper. You didn't even want to fight back, just letting his tongue make its new home in your mouth, tasting over every inch. Kun swirled his tongue around yours, and you heaved air in and out of your nose, salivating further at the taste of his own. You nearly had to tap out, needing a higher dose of air, but he pulled back in the nick of time. Not leaving your brain time to recover, he laid searing kisses to the side of your mouth and down your jaw to below your ear. When the kisses finally reached your neck, right under your chin at your throat, he sealed his lips over the skin, sucking hard on the flesh. The pressure near your windpipe made your hips jump and you mewled when his teeth lightly nibbled, tongue working your skin as well. You obviously couldn't see it yourself, but he grinned with pride at the deep purple mark he had left, then dove back down to leave another in the crook of your neck. Kun tried to press even closer, the table knocking hard against the wall, jerking your covered mound against the bulge in his pants. Your eyes rolled back, fingers gripping hard into his shoulders as his tongue ran from the bow of your collarbone all the way to your ear, then ran over the ridge. Every exposed inch of skin not covered by your shirt seemed to burn and throb, the dark love marks branded you as his. You were forced to lean back till your head hit the wall when he kissed you again, your chest pressed to his. Kun snaked his arms around you, nibbling your bottom lip and mapping the grooves of your teeth with his tongue. His hand cast down your bare thigh, mostly revealed by your shorts, and you followed his prompting and wrapped your legs around his waist. Kun left the kiss once more and you traded tasks, starting to litter his jawline and neck with little pecks and licks as he picked you up. He hitched you a bit higher on him, holding you to him as he carried you toward the sitting room, and he swore, your wet was leaking through the thick fabric of your shorts. The room was darker from the curtains being closed, and he sat on the couch, you on his lap. He had no idea how much it cost but he couldn't wait to turn you into a mess on it, and every other surface possible in the house. As you kissed his neck, he reveled in your heavy breaths and little whines, sighing when your soft lips tried to seal over his skin like his did yours. He wasn't sure if you were unsure of what you were doing or just not thinking straight, but he let you leave a few small kiss marks over his collar bone.

"C-C-Can I take this…off…" You mewled when his arm around your back held you in place as he slid a bit further down into the cushions, pressing your hips down so they rolled your covered cunt over his cock. Your shaky fingers messed with the buttons of his shirt, and he hummed.

"Of course, sweetheart."

"Um…" You got the first three buttons undone, then slumped into him, mind running on overdrive just seeing the first inches of his bare chest. You were pretty small, you actually felt so tiny and soft on him, so sweet. It made him want to corrupt any of your hesitant thoughts into the same lust-fueled ones he had.

"What is it, pretty girl?"

"C-can I request a…pet-name?" You whispered the last part.

"Yes?"

"Um…pumpkin…" You were horribly embarrassed by your own request, that much was obvious since you shrunk into him further, cheek resting on his shoulder, so you looked away from him. Kun rose a brow, wondering how you came to decide on it, and why it seemed to fluster you so much. Then something clicked in his mind, but he planned on acting on his idea later.

"Whatever you want, pumpkin." You gasped, whole body jerking when he said it, and how he said it too… He couldn't fight back a laugh, kissing the crown of your head. Managing the courage to sit up, he cooed at your beet red face, tears shimmering in your eyes.

"Go ahead, pumpkin." He grinned like a madman when your shoulders jerked in a flinch, and you continued to undo his buttons, even shakier. You sighed a groan when you finally pulled his shirt open, and he sat forward so you could completely remove it.

"Oh my god." You groaned, diving back down and kissing over his collar bone more, then down the hard plane of his chest. He watched, incredibly amused, as you moved off of him as your lips moved down, till you kneeled on the floor before him. He rested back further, legs spreading wider to give you room and your mouth watered. Kun grunted when your hot tongue landed just under and to the side of his belly button, running a slick trail all the way up to his sternum. Kissing and nipping back down, your gentle fingers ran over the skin of his stomach, taught over his abdominal muscles. Getting up on your knees more, your hands splayed over his ribs, thumbs rubbing at the underside of his pec, lips sealing at the skin just up from his nipple. You felt the rumbling groan he let out with your tongue, index finger running through the ridges of his ribs. His cock was painfully hard as he watched you leave five bigger hickeys on his torso. One under his belly button, right at the edge of the waist band of his pants, one on his left hip, another at the base of his sternum, a fourth creeping close to his side and the final right over his heart, a faint bite mark visible through the deep red mark.

"Get up here, pumpkin." You squeaked when his hands went under your arms, lifting you like you weighed nothing and plopping you down to straddle his thigh. You could feel his cock straining in his pants, still not as desperate to be free as you were to make it so yourself.

"Later. For now…" His hands encircled your hips, pressing you down and leading your motions, "fuck yourself here." You mewled, and immediately did as he asked. Trying to focus on wiggling your hips over the hard muscle of his thigh, another part of him that was painfully delicious, he worked at your shirt. Getting the buttons undone in the back, he removed the black corset-like vest, then nearly popped the buttons of your undershirt off in his haste. The fabric flew somewhere into the room, and he started his kisses again. Another hickey was left on the swell of your right breast, two on the left, and Kun deftly unsnapped your bra. Too busy easily getting close to orgasm by rubbing your covered cunt on his leg, you gasped in surprise when his lips sucked just as hard on your nipple as he had on other parts of your skin, the slight pain slithered into pleasure and went straight down to your core. Your hips stuttered, having a bit of hard time focusing on humping his leg as his teeth nibbled on your sensitive flesh. The thick seam of your denim shorts wedged into your wet folds, his hard muscle pressing it against your clit. Your breath hitched, and every little breath you let out was laced with a whine or moan. Kun sat back, watching your breasts bounce as you did on his leg, hands on your ass and between your shoulder blades to help hold you up.

"You're so good for me, pumpkin. You wanna cum?" He grinned when you nodded, "please!"

"Okay, sweetheart, you've done so good, cum for me." His words broke the dam, and your body went rigid as waves of pleasure hit you like a freight train. You fell forward, forehead to his bare shoulder, body flinching, leaving a stain in your panties and shorts, and even a bit on his leg. You went limp when the waves died, and you were both surprised at the intensity of your orgasm. Then again, it was possible he could tell you in any circumstance to cum and you would, just from his words alone. Turning your head and looking down, you panted, still resting on him, your quivering fingers going to the tent in his slacks.

"You're so fucking big." You huffed and he couldn't fight a breathy chuckle, sighing as your gentle digits pawed at his cock over the fabric of his pants.

"Stand up, pumpkin. Take the rest off." You did as he asked, so fast you stumbled from the head rush when you stood. Kun kissed your bare tummy as you wiggled the pants off and you swore under your breath. Your last articles of clothing fell to the floor, and you shoved them to the side with your feet.

"W-wait, there-" You flinched when his tongue swirled in your belly button, and he literally felt a drip of your slick hit his knee.

"Sensitive?" You could feel his smile against your skin, and you nodded, trembling when his tongue ran the same trail you left on him, but he finished at your nipple. He pulled you back down, your back arched as he nibbled at your peak, and you settled on the couch between his legs. The couch was big enough for you to kneel there between his legs, and you eagerly went for the button of his pants. He pulled back, running his fingers gently over your back, watching as you wrestled to get the zipper down. Biting your lip, you grinned, bouncing in excitement as your hand met his hard cock, flesh hot in your grip. Your fingers couldn't even touch and you pulled his dick out, whining long and low.

"So pretty~" You giggled, and your mouth hung open, a drop of drool falling past your lips, aiding your second hand as it joined. He exhaled, enjoying feeling your soft hands eagerly stroke his cock, hardening fully in your grip.

"Ah!" You squealed in glee when his finger met your folds, and he furrowed his brow.

"You're fucking soaked, pumpkin."

"I have been since you grabbed my face last week." You moaned, twitching at the feeling of his fingers skating through your slick cunt.

"Oh, fuck, yes~!" Your hands faltered, but managed to continue as he buried his fingers inside you, the slight burn fading fast into pleasure. His fingers reached deeper than yours ever could, and even just two spread you further than Yuta's… Scolding yourself, Kun must have noticed your slightly wandering thoughts, crooking his fingers hard against the rougher spot of your back wall, taking your breath away.

"Focus on me, princess." His tone got just a tad sterner, and he huffed in awe as your cunt clenched around his fingers.

"Y-yessir." You mumbled and Kun groaned.

"You're such a good girl, (Y/N)." Your gummy walls pulsed harder, and he loved being able to tell just from your body what his words did to you. When his ring finger joined the other two, wiggling and prodding at your walls your pace halted, eyes closing.

"Keep going, princess, good job." His other hand rested over yours, guiding your movements. Kun's hand was soaked, your wet dripping onto the couch and he couldn't wait to taste you.

"Fuck- wait, fuckfuckfuck." He had added a fourth finger, and you fell onto him, hands stopping entirely, breathing hard to get used to the stretch.

"Sorry, pumpkin. You're too tight right now, I don't want to hurt you."

"You can -oh my god- you can if you want to~"

"We'll see what the night brings." He grinned and as you got used to the stretch, your hands picked the pace up, and his dick pulsed in your hands.

"Just a bit more, sunshine, just…" Kun sighed, and he pressed into your weakest spot, hard, and your grip tightened, falling over the edge. Watching his hand become drenched with your own release, he joined you and you squealed in glee as sticky ropes of hot cum spurted over your hands and onto your stomach. Huffing and panting for breath, heart racing, he stayed just as hard under your hands, like he hadn't even finished. Before he even decided if he wanted to ask you too, you wiped up your stomach, then brought your hands to your lips, licking his cum from your skin like it was honey. Your hips jerked when he pulled his fingers from your cunt, bringing his hand to join yours and you took his fingers into your mouth instead. Cleaning every drop of your own release, he couldn't help but marvel at how you seemed to crave him, even more than he you.

"Hm, how good are you here?" His now licked-clean hand when to your throat, not tight, but his thumb did press against your trachea.

"Can I show you?" You seemed shy to meet his eyes.

"Of course, pumpkin." He let you go, shoving the coffee table hard with his foot so it was out of your way when you kneeled on the floor. His sticky release still stuck to his cock and wiggled your jaw, estimating. The vibration from your lips as you moaned, taking the fat head of his cock into your mouth, made him grunt. Eagerly, thirstily, your tongue drank each trail of jizz, swirling over the head, tasting the precum spilling from the tip. You used to be proud of how far you could open your mouth, the dentist always telling you that you did well, but Kun's cock was that fucking thick. Your jaw muscles protested when you swallowed the tip, eyes rolling back at the thought of his delicious dick splitting your cunt in half. More precum and saliva spilling past your lips, trying desperately to fight your aching jaw and take his dick all the way into your mouth. At the angle, you couldn't press him in any deeper when the head hit your throat, swallowing to fight back a gag.

"You were made for me, huh? Just for me." Kun grinned, fingers gently weaving into your hair, then gripping hard, yanking your head back. His hand gripped your face, thumb on your bottom lip forcing your mouth open. You held your tongue out, a glob of spit falling from his bottom lip and onto your tongue. Kun grinned wide when you swallowed and ran his fingers through your soft hair.  Not too hard, he directed you by the hair to scoot backwards on the floor, then pulled your head back toward his cock. His gorgeous hand gripped his dick at the base, and you whimpered when he rested the fat head on your lolling tongue.

"How long can you hold your breath?"

"Um, a while. But for this…if you give me like six or seven seconds between thrusts, I won't gag…" You were a bit shy that you already knew this, but you weren't exactly inexperienced.

"Hm, that so? You won't be able to talk while you swallow my cock, so tap out on my thigh if you need to stop, okay? Three times."

"O-Okay."

"Hm, my sweet girl, you ready?" You nodded, obediently planting your hands on the floor to stabilize yourself, splaying your legs to get lower. You inhaled deep through your nose, using measured breaths through your nose as Kun eased his cock into your waiting mouth. The taste of him alone made your head swim, let alone when the tip met the back your throat.

"Good girl, my sweetheart." His voice didn't match the debauched grin he had adorned, watching in delight as your lips encircled his cock. Slowly, with each thrust, he buried his cock deeper into your gullet, and you inhaled hard, body jerking when he filled your mouth, pressing your nose to the skin of his groin. Your eyes rolled back, fighting a gag, holding your breath obediently, cunt pulsing in need.

"Fucking hell, (Y/N), you're an angel." Kun’s fingers carted through your hair, holding your head still, pulling his hips back enough to let you breathe. He learned the sound of your inhales and exhales, then began to batter his fat cock into your throat. Drool dripped down from your lips, splatting on the floor, the salt of his precum and the residue of his orgasm making your mouth water more. Only a few tears pricked at your eyes, a soft gag forced its way up every so often. He gave you longer breaks between complete air cut-offs, he had too much stamina, he wanted you to last. One of his hands left your hair, pressing against your throat, feeling the bulge of his cock as it fucked deep. Your vision was blurring, chest heaving, even with the breaks he gave you, your need for air was growing, but the dull pressure of restriction fueled the fire in your cunt. Kun's eyes glanced to the clock, you were a fucking champ, he was shocked you could tolerate swallowing his big dick for nearly five minutes. You were about to learn he had the stamina of a fucking bear, and he was pent up beyond all get out. He had been wanting to ruin you in the dirtiest ways possible for too long.

"You want my cum down your throat pumpkin?" You moaned, hands going to the backs of his thighs and Kun groaned, the sound slightly rising in pitch as he got closer.

"Breathe." He pulled out far, you sucked in a huge breath, and he buried his pulsing cock as deep as he could and came. He was so deep you almost couldn't taste his cum, but your tummy warmed. He came like a bull. You tapped his thigh twice and he pulled back, the last few small drops leaving the tip as it sat on your tongue. He was still half-hard, but he would need a bit more time to recover.

"Can you stand?" He panted slightly, contrasted with your deep and laborious breaths. You just nodded, throat burning from getting hit like a battering ram.

"Here, lets get you something to drink." He helped you stand, leading you to the bathroom that just happened to be past the closest door. You looked at your face in the mirror, red and splotchy, lips coated in drool and cum. You didn't bother finding a cup, you just turned the water on and used your hand to drink. Nearly choking, you hadn't notice him slink out of view of the mirror, and something warm and wet met your cunt. You cripped the counter, head bumping the mirror, shakily shutting the water off as his tongue snaked into your core.

"You taste so fucking good, sunshine." Kun's groan echoed in the bathroom, and he felt your legs weaken. He wrapped his arm around your hips, hand pressed to your lower stomach, the other around your leg to hold you up. His tongue left your core, sliding through your folds, swirling around your clit and you jerked against the counter, the soap dispenser falling over, rolling into the sink itself.

"K-Kun!" You gasped twice, then keened a moan, falling apart on his tongue. Your cunt spasmed, your release squirting over his face and chin and onto the floor, your vision spotted.

"Have you ever squirted before, pumpkin?" He licked at your inner thighs to clean the trails of wet from the skin.

"N-No."

"Good, only for me then?" He hummed in delight, kissing your ass cheek, then stood up. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, fully hard cock pressing into the cleft of your ass. His hug was so warm and gentle, his nose nuzzling your messy hair, a soft kiss pressed above your ear. Grabbing your hand, he led you from the bathroom, into the hall, and then he pressed your shoulders down. Your knees hit the rug at the base of the stairs, your hands catching yourself a few steps up, and he kneeled behind you. Kun fucked his cock between your thighs, more wet dripping down from your cunt already, slicking the skin. Even your thighs trembled at the girth and a thick vein running down the shaft skated perfectly against your clit. Your little button was already swollen, and it pulsed, stinging just slightly at the continued stimulation. Sighing in dismay when he pulled back from you, his cock leaving the soft flesh of your thighs, you instead hummed in delight when he moved the tip to your cunt. Just the very end nudged into your core, your walls already fluttering in shock at the intrusion. It was one thing holding him in your hands, or even in your mouth, he felt like he was hung like a horse as the fat head started to press in.

"Good girl, my love, breathe slow." His hands cupped your waist, thumbs rubbing comforting circles into your back. Was fucking you from behind for the first time the best idea? Probably not, he hoped he didn't go so deep it hurt. Your whole body spasmed alone with your wet, hot core, every little centimeter searing burning pleasure into you.

"Oh my god, Kun~! You're gonna break me~!" You squealed, delighted, his cock only halfway inside before you came again. He halted as your already tight cavern gripped his cock like a vice, another puddle of wet forming on the stairs.

"Already?" He huffed, waiting for the waves to die before continuing to press in.

"I-Its because it's you. Fuck, your finally inside me…I'm gonna-!" You gasped, your fading orgasm cresting back up, and he took the chance. Kun snapped his hips hard, burying in all the way, head pressing against your cervix, forcing your next climax from you. Your pussy walls, clit and nearly entire lower half burned from overstimulation, the sting quickly growing painful, before dulling into just a buzz, pleasureful once more. Kun saw you white knuckling the bottom of the banister, shoulders jerking, and he leaned down over you, pressing his chest to your back.

"Need a sec…" You whispered and he hummed, kissing over your back and shoulders.

"Your sweet pussy is so good around me, princess, you feel so fucking good-" He paused his words, not wanting to go overboard.

"Yeah?" You whimpered and he chuckled.

"Of course, pumpkin. You're taking my cock like a queen."

"Oh, god, it’s the best, your cock is so big, fuck, Kun! Just fuck me already!" You cried and he exhaled hard.

"You want my cock, pumpkin? Want me to ruin your tight little cunt? Mold it to my dick till no one else could ever compare? Make your body mine?" He let his words go, and he was glad he did, your core fluttering and leaking at each sentence.

"Please! Please, Kun, please, da-" Your words cut off as you moaned, all air and sanity being pulled from you as he pulled his cock out just an inch.

"I'll give you it, pumpkin, take daddy's cock." He was too intuitive for his own good, and he rolled his hips, fucking back into you hard and shallow, your breath hitching with each pound.

"Yes, daddy! Fucking fuck, ruin me, please! I'm yours, only yours…" You were rambling, words slurring, body dropping on to the stairs. The slight thrusts had so much power behind them, every ridge of his dick perfectly running over your weak spot, making your brain short circuit. Sweat dripped down both of your foreheads, a drop running down his neck, chest, stomach and his thigh, more dripping onto your back, meeting your own and falling to the wood below. Kun started to leave more sucks on your skin along your spine, large hand splayed over your stomach right under your breasts, the other meeting yours, fingers weaving between yours.

"(Y/N), I love you. Fuck, you're so perfect for me, sweetheart. Damn, I wished I could’ve had you sooner."

"I…love-! Love-!  You too! Holy fuck, daddy, I'm so close!" You giggled like a fool, squeaking as his thrusts built power, pulling out not even quite hallway before slamming back home.

"You're so fucking wet, pumpkin, your making such a sweet mess." He huffed, looking down to see the shine of your slick all over your thighs and ass, and gleaming on his cock, groin and down his balls and inner thighs.

"Wanna cum? Cum while daddy's cock makes a mess of you?"

"Yes, please? Can I daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart, go ahead, my good girl." He stopped his movements, cock head pressing hard against your womb and your cunt wept, burning from overstimulation but you needed more.

"No! Nonono!" You babbled when he pulled out, your sticky release coating his dick, dripping to the floor.

"Ah, wha-?" You yelped as he wrapped and arm around you, spinning you and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Trying to balance yourself with your weak muscles, Kun moved down the hall toward the master that was luckily downstairs, arm around your thighs to hold you. When you wouldn't stop wiggling, his other hand came down hard on the flesh of your ass, a red welt instantly forming, and your babbling stopped with a choke. Slick drooled onto his shoulder from where you rested on it and he kicked the door closer, stalking to the bed. Nearly dropping you onto the mattress, he flipped you on to your stomach, smacking your ass again.

"Move up." You scrambled to do so, peaking behind you over your shoulder to watch him drop his pants, fat cock standing proud against his stomach, coated in your wet. With bated breath you watched him open a dresser drawer, pulling a red tie out, then he joined you on the bed. Kneeling next to you, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you further up, shifting the blankets under you. Kun wrapped the soft red material around your wrist, then looped it through a gap in the headboard meant for securing the mattress. Finalizing the tie around your other wrist, you gently tugged, not really wanting to even try and resist.

"Okay?"

"Y-Yes."

"Good." You felt a little nervous to, but glanced behind you none-the-less, and not even ten seconds later, his hand landed on your right ass cheek. You gasped, the searing heat jolting straight to your cunt, and he marveled at your reddened skin.

"You're such a good girl, pumpkin, but I also like your little noises-" smack, on the left, "when I do that, plus," smack, right, "you like it too, hm?"

"Yes, daddy!" You yelped as his hand landed on the left again, before the next landed right in the middle. Your pussy wept, his fingers sliding against your cunt, and you spoke, a little scared.

"J-just don't hit me there, please." You wiggled your hips, his finger running through your folds.

"Okay, pumpkin, I won't. You're so good for me." He kissed your shoulder again, and you sighed when the head of his dick met your core again. His thrust shifted you up the bed a bit, the stretch still burning a bit.

"Hold on here." He helped you wrap the slack of the tie around your hands, then you grabbed the edge of the mattress. You sucked in air at the feeling of him pulling back, leaving just the head of his cock inside you, then back in slowly. Disappointed and relieved at the same time, your cunt pulsed and twitched, trying to accommodate his fat girth. With each movement of his hips, it got a bit harder, and you bit the pillow your face was buried in at a good time, because he snapped his hips, starting a brutal pace. You nearly screamed into the pillow, and he forced it lower so you couldn't muffle your sounds.

"I want to hear you, pumpkin. Want everyone to. Hear your mine." He chuckled darkly, grunting, the smack of your skin on his carrying through the room. Each impact of his hips and pelvis against your backside made the hand-marked reddened skin sting deliciously.

"(Y/N), my sweet girl, I'm gonna cum, cum inside you. Hmm, you want me to fuck you full?"

"Oh, fuck, pleasepleaseplease, yes, god, Kun!" You froze, twitching, shuddering when he filled you, tip pressed into your womb, painting your insides white. Heat spread from your core up to your heaving chest and down all the way to your toes. Globs and streaks of your combined releases dripped onto the brand-new covers, spilling from your spasming cunt where he split you open. He watched with a smirk as your pussy spasmed, milking his cock for every drop.

"How the fuck are you still hard?" You managed to whisper out and he chuckled.

"Do you know how long I've wanted you, sweetheart? Too long. Plus, I need to fuck any memory of anyone else from your body, every cell. You're mine."

"Oh~" You sighed at his words, watching him untie the red fabric. Gently, he pulled out, globs of jizz spilling from your cunt and he just smiled, flipping you over. Hitching your legs up to wrap around his middle, even if he was still a bit sensitive himself, his dick slid inside you once more.

"So tight, my love." Kun licked his lips, and your body shivered at the feeling, the different angle hitting new spots inside you.

"Oh, look, pumpkin." He hummed, sitting up, hand on your lower stomach, hiding the subtle bulge evident beneath your skin. When you worked up the strength to look, he moved his hand and the sight made your head swim, gummy walls clenching even harder.

"You're so small, but you're taking me in still, this sweet cunt’s just for me."

"Yes, your fat cock is- oh, fuck, god it's so good!" Your own hand pressed on the bulge, head tossed back, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. You didn't have the strength to hold your own legs up, and he moved your legs from resting over his elbows, to pressing your thighs to your chest. Your eyes widened, knees at your ears, his cock bottoming out.

"Damn." Kun hummed, loving how easily your body folded for him. He started with the same shallow, hard thrusts as he did on the stairs, picking the pace up some, holding your legs with his chest, ankles by his ears. One hand landed on the headboard to support his weight, the other cupped your jaw. The soft gesture changed as his palm slid down, thumb pressing on the other side of your wind pipe, and pressed slightly. Your air only felt the slightest bit restricted, but where he pressed made his grip feel tighter.

"God, fuck! Daddy~!" Your hands went to his wrist, holding it there, body jerking under his from his fervent pace. His own peak was rising faster than he anticipated, and you felt his cock pulse inside you.

"Cum in me more, please! Want your cum!"

"Hm I can do that. Fuck you full, make it drip from you for days, fill you with me." Kun leaned close to your ear, kissing under it, then sucking on your ear lobe. One, two, three more thrusts and he fucked even more cum into you, already stuffed full, spurts of hot sticky white oozing out and your vision spotted, cunt stinging as you fell apart as well. Your consciousness was fading, exhausted, and you felt his hand leave your throat before you slipped into a light sleep.

~~~

You must have slept through the night since you could see light fading into the room through the curtains, the sun had been setting when you and Kun first started…well, fucking. No way to romanticize it. You were sore beyond all get out, but somehow not satisfied. Neither was Kun it seemed, because he held you to him, both of you completely naked, his hard cock wedged between you two.

"Oh, god." You had nearly forgotten how big he was, the soreness making sense. Small points all over you were sore too, the little hickeys and bites he littered you with. Your ass stung as well, but the most overwhelming feeling was how nice it felt to be surrounded by him. He easily wrapped around you, your body fitting perfectly in the curve of his own, really making you feel made for him.

"You too sore, my love?" His voice made you flinch, not from startling you, but it was deeper and rougher from his sleep.

"I don't think so." You mumbled, throat protesting at you speaking, "though I think I'll be bedridden for the next week." You huffed and he hummed, nuzzling behind your ear.

"Let's start slow." His arm around your middle left, the one under your head curling around your shoulders, pulling you back toward him even more. Shuddering as the head of his dick once again found its home inside you, your pussy jerked in protest, but the slick heat of your walls sucked him in desperately. Bottoming out, he nestled even closer, kissing your head, stilling almost like he fell back asleep. Slowly, the sharp sting faded into the same tingling burn of pleasure, and you experimentally clenched around his cock. Kun huffed in amusement, proving he was still awake, and you felt yourself wake up further as well, nerve endings firing up from the warming feeling spreading from inside out.

"What round will this be?" Kun hummed at your question, thinking.

"Not sure, not enough though." You felt and heard the sucking noise his dick made as it left you, your vision whirling as he flipped you over. Your arms shakily held you up on his chest, his hands on your hips holding you up, hovering over his cock.

"You control the pace, don't want to overdo it." Using his arms to help you ease down and not just drop onto his fat cock, you eased him in, shivering when your clit met the slick you left on his groan, panting, trying to get used to him once more. The idea was good in theory, not great in practice though. You were tired and shaky, so as you started to rock and bounce on his dick, your thighs yelled at you. Still, the pleasure you already felt building spurred you on, almost like an adrenaline rush, but you couldn't keep your pace consistent. You were getting frustrated, and he could tell, hands still at your waist holding you to stop.

"S-sorry."

"Oh, pumpkin, that's fine. Let's do something different." He sat up, helping you dismount, and you whimpered at the loss. Kun kissed quickly and softly all over your face, and you giggled, bowing your head to escape the ticklish onslaught. He scooted back so his back rested against the headboard and he had you face away from him. Easing back down, you straddled his legs, and resting against him when he filled you back up. Moving his legs under yours, he brought his knees up and you were forced back against him more, his legs spreading yours further. Sighing, shakily, you rested your head back against his shoulder, hands falling on his arms around your middle.

"Look, there, pumpkin." He nodded forward and you shifted to do so, finding your reflection in the mirror behind the dresser.

"Did you have them put that there on purpose?" You yiped when his hips jumped, and he hummed coyly.

"I have no idea why it's there." Kun tried not to laugh, and you felt his body stiffen under you. Using his feet as leverage, he started to jerk his cock up into you, quick and deep. You were held up entirely by him, back pressed to his chest, legs over his. Already your clit stung, but you needed him one more time, just one more before you would be satisfied. It seemed he didn't need long either, the same familiar pulse thrummed from his cock and through you. His cum from the day before had still been leaking out of you, formed a ring around where he entered you, mixed with is pre and your slick. You watched enthralled in the mirror, amazed at the ease in which he fucked up into you, and how much of a mess you were.

"Fuck, (Y/N), come with me pumpkin." His hand fell to your clit, flicking it just twice before your body seized, cunt spasming hard even through the soreness and you managed to keep your eyes, watching his release spill from you. As you lay on him, both of you panting, he nuzzled your ear.

"I love you, (Y/N)."

"I love you, too." You mumbled, exhausted already.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

You dozed while he prepared a bath in the jacuzzi of the master suite. With soft and loving movements, he washed your hair and body, massaging away some of the soreness.

"You don't have to wash me too, sweetheart." He chuckled when you lathered up the loofa again. You sent him a playful glare and he sighed, letting you eagerly run the scrubber over his skin before you ditched it in lieu of stroking the soap over him with your hands instead. You looked like you were on a mission, focused, face red with excitement.

"You're so cute." He cooed, brushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead, his own wet hair slicked back.

"And you're the sexiest thing on the face of the earth." You copied his same gentle tone, and it made him laugh. That was the best sound you've ever heard. When he helped out of the bath, legs still shaky, he wrapped his robe around you, going for just a towel around his waist, and you swam in it. It was so nice and soft and smelled like him.

"This is mine now." You declared, shuffling into the bedroom from the bathroom and he laughed again. He cooked you breakfast as you sat on the counter, a pillow under your sore butt, legs swinging. As he waited for the pan to heat up, he nestled between your legs, brushing your nose with his. You had never felt sure pure and gentle love before. Despite neither of you being able to be with each other for so long, you were close enough to fall for each other. At first you thought it was irrational, infatuation, but looking at him before you, with the same loving look reflected in his eyes, you knew that he was yours, and you his. Something you could only really see from up close.

Part 1: From Afar

Master-Master List

NCT Master List

[hearted-anon]

Hi I know you’re busy with like a ton of other requests and stuff but if you get the time can you write a part two to the knight’s foolish play fic? I loved it so much and I would LOVE to see more of that kind of trope! maybe with lee! Han and Ler! Minho?

Love yaaa 🖤

A King's happy indulgence.

Words: 1837 Note: I'm sorry this took so long, not really in the best of places... T/w: Roughness, hint of romantic development, pinning (not bondage), tools Lee: Jisung Ler: Minho

Minho trekked the walls of the castle longingly, hand running across the velvet carpet that was more than happy to welcome him in. He didn’t want to be filming himself in stuffy costumes and harsh words that he was forced to spit out for so long, but it was what the entertainment needed. He was nothing but a knight to his fate despite his role, a blade pressed to his throat to keep his lips sealed about whatever happened behind the scenes. 

“You said you wanted to see me?” A voice called out from behind him, below him, below his status. Right- He was acting, none of his members were his friends anymore the moment they stepped into the world of fantasy. Snapping his head, he met the eyes of his most loyal knight, Han Jisung. Cold brown eyes pierced the younger, his hands struggling to maintain their hold on the silver sword that stabbed into the floor below.

“Of course, please allow me.” The older gave the bare crumbs of a smile towards the younger, which was gratefully treasured before scurrying towards his Majesty. With a huff he stood in front of Lee Know, pushing out his chest to seem more courageous than he was; a King couldn’t be protecting his servants after all. It earned a chuckle from the older, which allowed Jisung’s eyes to sparkle in admiration from the heavenly sound. 

A wooden door creaked open with a squeaky giggle, sucking out their breath from its view. Jisung’s throat went dry at how Minho looked under the glistening moonlight, tinted blue eyes reflected with each breath that sounded through him. His heart pounded out of his chest, gulping down whatever dignity he had to gawk at the unreal looks on his Majesty, truly deserving of his title in the blank eyes of Han.

“Are you alright? You’ve barely moved.” Minho snapped Han out of his own thoughts with a voice filled with worry, Jisung blinked in confusion to the glove hands that waved in front of him, having been completely enamoured by Lee Know just a few moments ago that flew by with a gentle breeze of the night. He nodded quickly with a gulp, hoping that his sinful and eyes of admiration wouldn’t be noticed, god forbid it happened. 

“Would you come here for a moment?” The younger was never quicker to dash over to the older’s side, almost making it to the bed in the blink of an eye. His mind was hazy, repeating the image of someone so majestic under the glorious moon light like a broken record, jealous of anyone that was able to lay their hands on him. However, his lack of awareness might’ve been the end of him, so much for chivalry…

In what felt like a flash bang, Jisung was pinned onto the soft bed, arms trapped under his Majesty’s thighs. He shrieked, feeling a sense of deja vu at his vulnerability. The fluffy fabric of baby blue sheets didn’t do anything to let him away from the muscular thighs of the older, struggling to even move his arms an inch; he was completely stuck. 

That was when it dawned on him why he remembered it so well.

“Remember our ‘banter’ last time? Well, as King, I order you to let me have my fair share.” Minho chuckled mischievously, wiggling his fingers above Jisung’s vulnerable waist to earn a loud shriek of surprise. He twisted, squirmed and thrashed all he could but knew damn well that he wasn’t going anywhere trapped under thighs that felt like chains.

“Wahahait! Plehehease please!” Jisung begged, anticipatory giggles already slipping out of him, what an embarrassment of a knight. His armour was melted away in a matter of seconds, left behind the flustered shell of someone that wasn’t the strongest of soldiers at all. All he earned was a disappointed tut, before his faux silver armour was unbuttoned, revealing a set of faint abs that the older resisted the temptation to gawk at. 

“Please what? Please start already? Of course!” Minho enthusiastically exclaimed, earning quite the loud protest of screams in return. He shook his head playfully with a cheshire grin, grabbing the same bottle of body oil from previously. Waving the bottle teasingly atop the squirming quokka, he poured some right into his navel on purpose, snickering when it elicited a shriek from the cold feeling. 

“Noho no no! Plehehease Minho!” Jisung babbled and pleaded, shivering when the oil was rubbed all over his slim waist. He stamped his feet onto the sheets, throwing his head back in anticipation as he stared at the older with the most pleading eyes he could muster. In all fairness, Lee Know was tempted well enough to give in to those puppy eyes, the moonlight encapsulating how his eyes twinkled in it must’ve done something to him, definitely. However, when a cat has caught their prey, they don’t let go. 

“Where were the honorifics? Bold aren’t we? Well me too.” Minho teased lowly, dreaded fingers descending onto his pale tummy, stroking up and down delicately with a hum. The younger let out a shriek, giggles bubbling up in his throat like an active volcano in an instant. He spun his head side to side, unable to take the fingers that danced over his oiled tummy as if an ice cube. 

“Plehehehase! I-I’m sohohohory! Hyung!” Jisung babbled, barely coherent through breathless giggles that might as well have been stealing his Majesty’s breath away too. It dripped like honey off his tongue, naturally coaxing in a wild Minho to his den; how unfortunate. The older craved more of those giggles, lost in a trance as his fingers didn’t stop their movements. He was brought back by a squeal when he went to Jisung’s pale ribs that stuck out from his vulnerable position, shaking his head.

“Well, you’re not sorry if you pulled that move previously…” Minho scoffed, an obvious denial to what he was truly feeling inside.In retaliation, both to his growing flush and poor Jisung, his once gentle fingers dug harshly into the younger’s ribs, nails that were blunt slipping through oil filled crevices to the fleshy skin below. Worth it, Han thought, but was cut off with his own scream when Minho found his ribs more interesting. He bursted into cackles, tugging at his arms trapped under muscular thighs desperately.

“AHAHAHA! PLEHEHEASE I REALLY AHAHAHAM!” His crinkled eyes tried their very best to open up to show his so-called remorse, but was more of a show of a moon cycle that was cut off way too quickly. His eyes squeezed back into crescents as fast as he opened them, oil dripping down his sides from all the thrashing. Now, Lee Know may have been a menace, may have the least amount of mercy out of everyone, and may do everything in his power to ensure no one left his grasp alive, but he was kind, letting up on his torso that buzzed with after tingles.

“Hm. Sorry? Then let me do this for…myself, not you, heheh.” Minho said rather thoughtfully, but behind those icy eyes held no meaning, blank as a canvas waiting to be painted with colour and life once more. Getting off Jisung, the younger rubbed at his wrists, though the feeling of having the older be so kind and caring made him melt. Hesitantly as if a stray cat, the ‘King’ rubbed at the ‘Knight’s’ wrists, ensuring he wasn’t badly hurt before tearing off the faux silver armour. It revealed tan thighs underneath with shorts, exposing his thighs for the world to see; well Minho was Jisung’s world, they just didn’t realise it.

“WAIT! Anywhere but thehehere! Plehehease please PLEASE-!” Although loud and whiny with his begs, there was no move to actually tap out or stop any of the cruel majesty’s action, earning a soft chuckle in return. That wasn’t fair, Han was sure with that chuckle he would be willing to let himself be tickle tortured for all he cared, it was too sweet not to crave more of. 

Well, if he didn’t rub oil over his thighs.

“And why not? Are you ticklish or something?” Minho inquired with a fake innocence and a cheshire grin once more, humming a tune under his breath as a squirmy quokka refused to give the answer he wanted; but maybe those cute and puffed up cheeks would be enough to satiate his craving? Unfortunately not. Grabbing a paint brush from his night stand, he swirled it into the younger’s inner thighs, right above his knee. His legs that once held the quokka’s arms down now spreaded his legs wide apart, wanting to paint his canvas nice and colourful with hysterics that bounced off the bedroom. 

“Y-You know I AHAHAM! NONONO! BRUSHES AHAHAHRE UNFAHAHAHIR! HYUHUHUHNG!” Pounding on the older’s back, tugging at his legs, squirming around, nothing worked to let the ruthless cat up on its prey, settling for his fate. The brushes that ran along his thighs paired with the oil were effective in driving him into crazed bouts of laughter, it felt like soft nails that worked up the squishy dough of his thighs.

“Unfair? Hm. I think this is unfair.” Lee Know grinned one last time before wrapping his nimble fingers around the slippery thighs, barely able to secure around it from its muscle and fat mass but it was doable. And then he squeezed, squished, scribbled everywhere on the undersides of them. Nothing prepared the older for the scream that was unleashed throughout the room, followed by laughter that might’ve been mistaken for a witch if they weren’t careful.

“NOHOHO! AHAHAHAH-!” Poor Han, he barely lasted a minute before drowning in silent laughter, his legs trembling in the air as the undersides were tormented without an end. The smooth oil allowed gliding of nails without a hitch, squishy enough to fit all five of his nails one each side. With a smirk the older let go, letting the quokka’s thighs slam into the bed softly with a thud.

He crawled close, cradling the younger in his arms as if nothing had happened. Panting with a red face, it seemed to glow brighter at the sudden close proximity of the two; he swore it wasn’t this hot in the room last time they played together. He melted when MInho ran a hand through his hair, cardling it with a smile that he swore flashed on and off as well, his heart choked in his throat at the soft sight.

“I order you to sleep.” Lee Know demanded softly, barely above a whisper as his nose dived for Han’s hair too, sniffing it with a contented sigh at the whiff of pine and mint. Only a tired nod was given back, both of their eyes lidding as they were lulled to sleep under the moonlight’s lullaby and the wind’s charm.

Maybe they both were oblivious, but when they awoke, it was no surprise of the stares they got by staff.

[sunnyseungup]

Lee Know fic recs pt 2

Stray kids | Lee know

Pt1

masterlist

updated [ 240227 ]

a cat proposal { f } @astraystayyh

I want a round 3 { s } 0,6k @lix-ables

ACTIONS { a, f } @luvrhyune

he never needed to say, “i love you”, because he showed it.

heavenly { s, f } 1,7k @mingirn

Fluffy intruders { f, s } 2k @sailorhyunjinz

on a run { bsf2l; f, s } 4,9k @writerracha

you have been accused of a crime you didn't commit. you have to run away, and your best friend minho comes with you. you're on the road, away from all you've ever known. but you are not alone. minho is here, and there are things you need to tell each other. noisy motel room neighbors might help you do just that.

EVERYTHING AND NO ONE { prince x maid servant, royal; a, s, f } @tasteleeknow

you're a royal servant, someone who was supposed to sink into the shadows and speak only when spoken to. power: you had none... except when it came to the crown prince.

housemates { roommates; s, f } 6,3k @locallixie

how can you live your life peacefully with having your housemate constantly seducing you like that?!

Do you want to share a towel? { s } 2k @hoes4lino

it’s spring break and your mom and her best friend decide to rent an airbnb to spend the week in, everything sounds great until you realize Minho has to tag along.

all is lost { a, s } 3k @suengmi

hollowed eyes with dark circles splattered underneath. like clouds on a dark day, thunder waiting to boom. the man standing before you; looking like he's going to break, but he doesn't. he never does. what were you doing wrong?

All mother { s } 5,9k @abiaswreck

Minho has spent a good chunk of his life devoted to one goddess. The one he believes can help him and his people. After a long journey he finally makes to her temple. He never expected his loyalty to be so rewarding.

In Your Arms { f } 0,7k @seo- -changbin

days off with Minho { f } 0,413k @agi-ppangx

23:11 { a,f } 0,45k @softiejoon

between the lines { e2l, retro high school; a, f } 9,7k @maatryoshkaa

“Are those…bite marks?” { princess/royal guard; f, a, s } @leviackermanscleaningbuddy

‘Is there a reason you’re in my bed?’ { f2l; s } 1,7k @jl-micasea-ics

Soft dominance { s } 1k @christopher-bangnaldoskzz

A love epiphany { rich kid, college, fake dating; f, a } 9,5k @cosmic-railwayxo

Wanting to keep up appearances in front of his parents, the Lee enterprises heir known around campus as a notorious player, comes to you with a crazy proposition: fake dating. Now, this wouldn’t have been as crazy if said heir wasn’t none other than Lee Minho, your childhood best friend recently turned enemy. 

Impatience { f } @leebitofficial

My baby, she’s trigger happy { f } 1,1k @miirohs

Coworker headcanons { f } 0.9k @sweetkpopmusings

winter wind { bsf2l; f } 1,5k @soobnny

a look into lee minho’s realization that maybe he is eager for the affection of someone else featuring the menaces, seungmin and jisung

JEALOUSY { a,f } 2,4k @httpjisvng

Minho never thought he was the jealous type. At least not until he met you.

Be the first who ever did { f } @inniejeonginnie

sometimes minho isn't that gentle with words, but he still he wants to be the first who won't hurt you.

The only exception { s2l, slowburn } @/astraystayyh

Minho was content with straying away as far as possible from love. That is until you stumbled into his café on a rainy night, and unwittingly, into his life.

The god of love { s,f } @leeknowsnot

Minho and an egg { f } @rachalixie

Bold +Han { s } 14,3k @hyunsvngs

you’re not too experienced in the world of dating, parties and talking to people, but these two american footballers that you cheer for just seem to get it.

Lavender haze { s } 1,9k @agnesafterhours

Your boyfriend is not prone to communicating his feelings through words, but luckily for him, you always know exactly what he needs.

TEN BILLION YEARS { s } @tasteleeknow

"...You love me, that’s enough.”

He intertwines your fingers. “I do,” he says as he stares down at the way your fingers tangle around each other. “Love you. I—” he sucks in a shaky breath before lifting your hand to his lips. “Hurts when you hurt,” he mumbles between soft presses of his lips to your skin. “Fucking hurts so much.”

His kisses spread down your wrist, alternating between slow patient presses to hurried pecks as he makes his way down your forearm. “Let me make it better,” he says as he climbs over you again. “I’ll make it better, sweetheart.”

matching tattoos { f } @/ppiri-bahng

makes me dizzy { s } 6,1k @/hyunsvngs

the best surprises come from the most unexpected sources - like having your crush corner you in a frat party after hearing you confess your deepest desires of him in the background of a video.

THE MOVING IN DIARIES { a, f } 2,3k @sunboki

Playful banter while driving to your new home is a must, but upon opening the door to your first home together, the big moment truly sinks in — especially when he wakes up beside you the next morning. Wow.

Your parents are visiting but Minho’s finding it hard to not touch you while they’re there slowly gets you to cave in too { s } @minv97

Eating his own cum out of your pussy when you’re asleep { s } @/tasteracha

In which your boyfriend wants to learn about your obsession with the pretty rocks { f } 1,024k @whorellaville

Day 10: lee know + rimming { s } 2,3k @straykeedz

Angry little guy @/rachalixie

Next person that walks through that door, I’m going to fuck { s } 1,1k @/jl-micasea-fics

Day 2: lee know + accidental stimulation { bff2l; s } 3,3k @/straykeedz

Day 5 déclencheur { model&photographer; s } 3,5k @exxxtraoddinary

It’s a known fact that Lee Minho is a whore for compliments, but it’s a particularly useful piece of information when you want to seduce the shit out of him.

Day 8 in the course { s } 2,6k @/exxxtraoddinary

You and Minho are dumbasses for agreeing to spend your last two weeks as single people apart to make your honeymoon ‘more special’. The withdrawal is hitting really hard, but both the groomsmen and the bridesmaids squads are keeping celibacy watch because there is a bet involved.

Pussy drunk { s } @moonjxsung

Day 17 drip { s } 1,8k @/exxxtraoddinary

A horrible fight needs an equally sweet gesture.

Used to this { f } 0,7k @like-a-diamondinthesky

the soft voices, the late-night cuddling, the sweet and fluttering affections you showed each other; man, minho could get used to this.

Three times { classmate Lino; f } @stayconnecteed

You can take it like no other { s } 2,8k @skzms

minho doesn't forgive easily, especially not when it's his own member calling his girlfriend 'easy'. so when seungmin comes home early from a trip, you and minho decide to fuck with him - by having the loudest sex possible.

Fold. { f } 0,9k @withleeknow

Minho when you get hurt { f } @/rachalixie

Lost in Translation { s } 26,5k @/moonjxsung

The older brother of the boy you babysit is an enigma, in every sense of the word- and you’re determined to figure him out.

He Fell Harder { f } @skz-streamer

Most Wonderful Time Of the Year { a, f } 1,4k @dreamescapeswriting

Collision { for all player Lino X RA reader; a, s, f } 14k @outofconcheol

The school year was a chance to start fresh - make new memories, meet new people, and most of all to leave the past behind. But Lee Minho is determined to make sure you never forget the one summer night you’d spent with him - no matter how hard he has to work for it.

Comforting Lino Drabble @/skzms

What you want { s } 2,4k @gimmeurtmi

My moon and stars { f } 1,1k @withleeknow

Told You So { f } 0,9k @shu-porang-porang

Feline tendencies { f, s } 0,9k @/withleeknow

Need you to [Lee] Know. { hurt/comfort, f } 1,2k @catiuskaa

minho loves you: to him, it’s as clear as water. Its only after he finds out that you’re starting to doubt it—he needs you to know just how much.

Series

WRONG CROWD { s, f } 24k @seospicybin

You meet Minho again at the high school reunion, the kid who used to sleep in class turns a tattoo artist

IN THE CROWD { s, f } 24,3k

TOO HOT TO HANDLE { s } @/seospicybin

You and Lee Know become contestants in a reality dating show

Part 1 10,8k

Part 2 11,1k

Part 3 13,4k

Invisible Thread { uni, academic rivals2l, slow burn; f, a, f } @astraystayyh

Part one 20k

Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

Part two 17k

In which Minho rewrites your entire relationship with love.

Texts

Boyfriend texts @like-a-diamondinthesky

Vampire!roommate Lino @taeraekisser

[skzdarlings]

the kingsguard ; jisung x reader ; part i

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | tba | ao3 link

pairing: han jisung/reader summary: You are a queen. He is a kingsguard - a member of a holy order that vows to defend the king in the name of the gods. They forsake all earthly goods and swear a vow of chastity to avoid all worldly temptation. When he stands in as proxy for the royal wedding, all those vows are tested.

content info: later chapters get smutty. reader has some physical description: mentions of her having very curly hair and a more curvy body.

content warnings: a royal affair between queen reader and guard jisung. the king is a violently abusive man. this chapter contains a scene of physical violence and attempted sexual assault against the reader who later has a panicked reaction. reader also believes sex is not pleasurable (but learns different to say the least).

please proceed at your own discretion.

chapter word count: 5100 words.

-

There is no groom at your wedding.  Your betrothed is too hungover to attend the ceremony.

You are disappointed but not surprised.  Last night, your father hosted a welcome banquet but your husband-to-be ignored the lavish festivities in favour of drinking himself into a stupor.  It did not matter that banners were hung in the great hall, that a feast was prepared, that the palace glittered in anticipation of his arrival.  It did not matter that you were a vision, resplendent in ivory and pearl, prepared and perfected just for him. 

The house, the money, the bride.  It did not matter at all.     

Such insult would not have been tolerated in any other man, but he is not just another man.  He is a king.  Only the heavens can issue him orders, just as he commands common blood like yours. 

The king holds nothing but disdain for your union and last night it moved like a poisonous mist through your home.  There was nothing you could do.  You sat and watched your royal betrothed make a crude mockery of your arranged marriage.  He travelled to your lands with a contingency of courtiers and they filled your house with his contempt.    

They all detest you.  Your family is wealthy but your father’s land sits at the border.  Many at court consider you foreigners in all but paperwork. 

Regardless of that status, your family owns the most prosperous land in the kingdom – a kingdom with coffers long since drained from an overseas war that reaped nothing but blood. 

This arrangement will save the kingdom and your betrothed knows that, but he is not happy to marry for money when his bloodline is better.  He spent the night belittling your family name, sneering at you, and pawing at the servant girls between drinks.   

The king drank.  The courtiers laughed. 

Only one group extended any civility towards you at all. 

“His Majesty sends his regards,” the leader of that group speaks to you now. 

He is in black robes, a sword at his hip.  He is the leader of the holy kingsguard, an ancient order sworn to defend heaven’s earthly sovereign.  There is nothing holy about the degenerate king, but his kingsguard is an ordained ministry nonetheless.  They surrender all earthly goods and fortunes, devoting themselves to service and soldiership.  That includes a vow of total chastity, so they are the only men permitted to perceive the future queen prior to the ceremony. 

What little remains of the ceremony.   

The soldier – Chan, you recall – informs you the ceremony will now be conducted by proxy.  The king is bedridden today, but the wedding cannot be delayed as he is needed back at court and the return journey is long. 

Chan is polite and respectful.  He does not mention that the marriage cannot be delayed because the king wants money now.  You are certain your betrothed’s condemnation of his otherwise worthless bride was rather more unkind.   

You remember the cold eyes of his courtiers, his even crueler sneer, and you blink back tears.    

“I understand,” you say.  You are practiced at maintaining grace in the greatest adversity.  “Thank you, soldier.” 

Chan wears a pitying expression.  It looks like he wants to say more but he knows his place.  The kingsguard is the strictest order in the kingdom.  Only the most devout are granted the black cloth and silver sword. 

“Your Majesty,” he says with a bow. 

You are not a majesty yet.  You have weddings vows to swear to a stranger first.

Until then, you are just another woman.

-

You made the wedding dress yourself.  You have always enjoyed the craft of needlework, even where certain jobs could be passed along to a seamstress.  Growing up, you spent more hours alongside the working women than at your mother’s table, a behaviour that was indulged until the war. 

You run your fingers along every familiar stitch, tracing the embroidered floral patterns down your forearm.  You always wanted a spring wedding, but it was not meant to be.  You enter the hall with the hot summer sun pouring over the crystal and marble. 

It is an ostentatious ceremony.  Not even the king could afford such a spectacle.  It makes you think he absconded on purpose.  What better way to wrestle back his dignity than to disregard the expensive ceremony?   

The king’s absence is felt more than your presence.  It turns the grandeur of the hall into a theatrical farce.  Courtiers giggle behind their hands, the traditionalists casting you withering looks of disapproval. 

Your own family smiles and you smile weakly back. 

For all their faults, you love your family.  They thought they were doing something good by arranging this marriage.  A small, childish part of you even hoped they were right, but that hope is gone now.  You have resigned yourself to the sad reality of the world.  Life is a dreary wash save what small bits of colour one dares sew into its seams. 

There are flashes of black cloth around the hall.  Chan is not among the present kingsguards as the leader stays close to the king, but a handful of the regiment has been spared to witness the proxy vows.

You recognize a soldier named Hyunjin, standing apart for his beauty as much as position.  Several of the ladies tittered about him last night, lamenting that such a handsome form was sworn to a chaste life. 

You do not recognize the other two.  One is short and stocky.  The other has silver hair and a freckled face, smiling at you from the far corner.  You stare back at him, taking the proffered comfort of that open sweetness. 

You finally reach the front of the hall.  You step onto the dais.  The minister rises and a hush cascades down the congregation. 

You worry your pounding heart can be heard in the highest arches of the hall. 

The first words of the ceremony are a name.  “Han Jisung,” the minister says.  It echoes with a swinging reverberation. “As an ordained soldier of the kingsguard, you have been called upon by His Holy Majesty to stand in proxy for the swearing of the vows.”

Footsteps break the silence, beat by beat.  Someone ascends the dais. 

At first, you do not look at him.  You cast your eyes up to the arches of the great hall, tracing the grandiose architecture.  It carries cultural traces of the borderlands.  The art of this place is home to you, though it draws ire from the courtiers behind you. 

You think that you may never feel so at home again, then you turn and catch the warmth of deep brown eyes.  You see the man who will receive your vows on behalf of the king. 

Your racing heart stumbles over itself. 

Han Jisung.  You recognize this soldier from the banquet last night.   

The strange man stands beside you.  His nails are painted black, stark where he rests his hand on the silver hilt of his sword.  His hair is as black as his midnight robes, his brown eyes darkly lined, but his intimidating shadows are softened by the gentler slopes of his face.  There is a raw and open tenderness, even where he tries to stifle it with appropriate solemnity. 

Your eyes are drawn to his lips and you remember his smile last night.  Jisung strode into the banquet with a sword at his hip and a guitar at his back.  It is not unusual for the kingsguard to have a bard of sorts, someone who can conjure a flattering song at whim, someone who can perform as if the gods speak through his guitar strings. 

Last night, while people danced and drank, you sank further and further into yourself.  You smiled prettily but all the spring blossoms in your heart rotted as the summer sunset turned to a miserable black gloaming.  Torches were lit and the cackling faces on spinning bodies looked like demons in the lamplight.  The king ignored you so everyone else did the same. 

Jisung, armed with a guitar, was enchanting a crowd of courtiers and some local palace residents.  You watched from a distant seat.  You could not help but stare, captivated by this stranger, this combination of soldier and musician and holy man.  His glowing face in the torchlight was a solitary beacon, his smile more intoxicating than the ever-flowing wine.  His laughter rang out like a symphonic chord, travelling the air to touch your ears where you sat alone. 

The man was no one to you, just another stranger in your home, but there such a simple, honest delight to him. 

He just seemed so alive.   

You were not prepared for the moment he met your gaze.  His black robes swished as he jumped, his dark hair bouncing. His eyes seemed to flash gold in the firelight.  He stood on a chair above the crowd and said, “A song for the future queen!” 

He could not know you loved the springtime but that is what he sang.  Perhaps the gods really did speak through his guitar string as he sang of new beginnings and hopeful seasons and cherry blossoms.  You smiled.

It was your first real smile all day. 

He looks at you now, a flicker of something kind in his dark eyes.  You see that twinkle only briefly because he dips into a respectful bow.

You unravel at the sight. 

You imagine truly marrying this man, swearing oaths to him and not some wretched figment he serves.  You imagine the promise of laughter.  You imagine those warm eyes seeking you across the room.  You imagine a song every spring. 

You know it is a fantasy.  This man is a stranger and that version of him is a fabrication.  But your heart breaks because that version of you – the girl who is happy for the rest of her life – is just as much an impossible fantasy. 

Jisung looks up while bowing.  He meets your gaze just as a tear trickles down your cheek.  No one else notices, just like one else noticed you last night.

His eye twitches, his polite smile faltering. 

He sees you.  He straightens slowly.  His brow furrows ever so slightly, his teeth tugging at his lip with thought. 

You jump when he waves, flicking his wrist like he is batting a fly.  The discreet sweep of his thumb across your cheek is so fast, you only know it happened because the tear track dries. 

“In the name of the gods,” the minister speaks, “the ancient and the almighty, we gather here today to unite in matrimony the holiest of subjects.  This couple has been brought together through heaven’s all-knowing divine intervention.”   

You bow your head.  There is nothing else you can do.  You listen to the recitations and make your oaths when prompted.  You swear before gods and men to serve your husband, to obey him, to always be pure and faithful to him. 

“The gods grant you to speak on behalf of the divine blood,” the minister says to Jisung. 

You look at Jisung.  He is already looking at you.  His gaze darts down your dress, across the floral embroidery, and lands at your feet. 

Your breath catches when he slowly gets down on one knee, keeping his head bowed and eyes down.  A gentle murmur disturbs the congregation, but there is no outrage.  The king would not have bowed before the queen, but perhaps the genuflection of a proxy is appropriate. 

“I swear,” Jisung says, his theatrical voice replaced with a gentler rasp that tingles up your spine, “I will honour you as a wife and a queen.  I will revere you as the gods’ chosen consort.”   He looks up, his lashes long and dark, his brown eyes so big and warm.  You think he is so beautiful; it almost makes you sick.  That dizziness worsens when he smiles and says,  “I will be your protector.  Until the day I die, no harm will ever come to you.”   

He stands.  Blessings are made.  The minister pronounces the union has been sanctified by the gods.  The congregation kneels in genuflection, respectful of the rituals even if they don’t like you.   You stand on the dais above them all, maintaining a stoic expression.  

You are a wife and a queen, though your husband is nowhere in sight, and your eyes stray to a head of dark hair, bowed with the rest of them. 

Jisung looks up, a bit of hair falling over his eyes.  He flashes a smile. 

Your heart picks itself up and starts running again. 

-

You cannot do this. 

You thought you could try for the sake of your family.  You thought you could try for the sake of the gods.  You thought you could try for the sake of the kingdom and all the innocent people within it. 

Then the king came to your chamber.  He did not attend the wedding feast, just as he did not attend the ceremony.  It was a fair excuse to make an early departure, returning to your room while the music played and wine flowed.  You were exhausted, emotionally weary, and your face was sore from so many false smiles. 

You discarded your elaborate gown.  You were in a shift, sitting at your vanity and removing jewelry, when the king arrived.  He did not announce himself or knock.  He threw open the door and marched inside like a conquering force.  He looked over your room with a scrunched face of displeasure, grimacing as if he was standing in a barnyard.  He looked at you with the same hateful distaste.     

Your throat closed up as if you inhaled poison.

You stood on shaking legs.  You had practiced a speech for this moment.  You thought perhaps you could convince the king to regard you as a decent friend if not a cherished wife.  You were willing to compromise on happiness. 

He backhanded you without hesitation.  No one had ever hit you so hard.  It felt as though he struck you with hot iron, your cheek a stinging welt.  Bells seemed to drown out the music downstairs.   

“Sire,” you said, your voice shaking worse than your legs. 

You found you could not look at him directly.  Your eyes burned just turning towards him. 

“Get on the bed,” he said.  “Wife.”  He might as well have said whore for all that the word was spat. 

You never expected to enjoy your wedding night.  All women know there is no pleasure in acts of copulation.  But this was something else entirely.  You approached the bed like a deer skirts the edge of the woods.  One wrong step and you knew it would be over. 

He grabbed you from behind before you could sit.  You slammed your eyes shut, curled your fists tighter.

In the darkness, you heard music, a distant voice belting some sweeter tune.  You recognized Jisung, his crystalline voice soaring above the bells. Your heart chased the sound, a desperate stampede up your body.  It seized control and before the king could do more harm, you blurted, “I’ve started my monthly bleeding.”

He stopped, the hem of your shift in his fists.

“Just – just so you know,” you said. 

It was a lie.  You braced yourself for the worst.  If he chose to disregard it, if he chose to take you anyway, he would quickly see there was no blood and you were trying to deceive him.  He had rights as a husband and it was sinful to deny him. 

He made a sound like gagging.  He shoved you forward.  You collapsed in a heap on the bed. 

He walked away. 

“I will not have you on the road,” he said.  You are not sure if he looked at you again because you hid your face in the blankets.  Hiding, as if you could will the world away by not seeing it.  “You’re filthy enough as is,” he continued.  “When we reach civilized society, you will be made as appropriate as you can be.  You will be cleaned, you will lose weight, you will be made to look halfway respectable, not like some borderland animal laying in its own filth. I will have you then without exception.  Wife.” 

You shuddered when the door slammed shut. 

The sun was still setting when he left.  It has long since vanished from the sky.  You have not moved.  You fear if you lift your head, he will be there, waiting to strike. 

After a long, long time, you surface.  Your room is empty.  The lavender light of sunset is gone and there is a darker puddle of moonlight, trickling between the curtains, pouring down your back.  You shiver.  You touch your cheek and find it is still tender. 

You try to pray but you are surrounded by silence.   Even the music has ended. 

In the ringing silence, you stand.  Your body is sore from laying curled up for so long.  It takes some pacing to straighten fully.  Back and forth, across your room.  Back and forth, in the silence. 

I cannot do this, you think.  Back and forth, the same thought, again and again. 

Disobeying the king is unlawful.  Abandoning him when you have sworn an oath is treasonous.  Even the kingsguards are bound to their vows for life.   If a soldier breaks his oath, he is put to death, swift and sure.  The punishment for a disobedient wife is the same. 

The silence is agonizing. 

You know what you have to do.   It will not be easy. 

You have to try for sake of yourself. 

-

The risks are great but you would rather die a swift death than suffer the slow poisoning of contempt. 

Your adrenaline pounds.  You pack all your jewelry in a sack to sell.  You bring some clean clothes.

There are servants clothes in a stack by the unlit fireplace.  You mend their worn garments during the busy seasons.  They are always appreciative and you like helping people. 

You don a pageboy’s garb and tuck your hair into a hat.  The king commented on your build and you grant it gives you away, built with your mother’s curves with a cascade of your father’s curly black hair.  You hide all your prominent features as best you can. You will be more inconspicuous as a roaming servant boy than as a notable queen. 

You tip-toe into the corridor, uncertain if the hallway is guarded.  The palace is usually safe but you are a queen now, so maybe the king sent guards.  Protecting you was in his oath, after all.

Kings are not beholden to their oaths.  The hallway is empty but you are hardly aggrieved.  You seize the opportunity and let your racing heart carry you away. 

Down the hall, down the winding stairs, through the kitchen, past the door.  You slow to a nonchalant canter when passing other servants, making sure to turn your face down and keep to the shadows.  Everyone is either busy, drunk, or tired, so you manage to slip past without notice. 

Once you are alone outside, you break into a run.  You do not leave yourself a moment to think.  If you begin to doubt, you will falter, and this will all be over. 

You are panting and sweating by the time you reach the stables.  You are not exactly in the habit of great exertion.  You take a moment to catch your breath while scanning for guards.  There must be some.  The courtiers have their animals in camps around the palace but the king’s horses are stabled.  The kingsguards have alternated shifts to keep an eye on the king’s property.  

There are no guards to be found.  You approach the stable with cautious steps.  No one appears and you slip into the stables unseen.  There is a lit lamp, swinging as though recently bumped, but there is no one in here.  Just the horses. 

You step to the first stall.  Your heartbeat is erratic and it pounds harder when you find a horse already bridled.  Did they forget to remove the saddle?  This is one of your father’s horses and that is unusual, but you do not question it. 

You lead the horse out of the stall and into the middle of the stable.  You speak gentle nothings to him.  You have not often ridden this horse as he is one of the faster animals, but you will need that speed tonight.   

Perhaps the gods are on your side after all. 

You take hold of the saddle.  You are about to hoist yourself onto the mount when a zing of metal slashes through the silent night.   The tip of a sword touches your shoulder.   

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

You recognize that voice. 

Of all the kingsguards to find you, of course it would be Han Jisung. 

You are so startled  that your adrenaline turns from fire to ice.  You freeze solid. 

“Hey! Little boy!” He lightly jabs you with the sword, just enough to scratch the material of your stolen shirt.  “A kingsguard asked you something.  Answer me!  Now!”

Your hands are still raised when you turn around.  It is a slow, begrudging reveal.  Your eyes are on the hay-spattered stable floor.  You look at his black boots, the silver sheath hanging at his hip.  Up, up, up, your eyes slowly lift. 

You meet his gaze.  His brow is furrowed with frustration but it uncrinkles when he recognizes you.  That irritation is smacked off his face, shock changing his whole disposition.  The sword wobbles and he takes a startled step back. 

“You—” he says.  He looks at you, jaw-slacked, then rubs his eye as if he cannot believe what he is seeing. 

Finally, the sword lowers to his side. His long black robes swish with the movement.  His shock gives way to panic.   

“What are you doing?” he demands, his voice breaking on a harsh whisper.  He swiftly sheaths the sword and takes several determined steps closer to you.  “Are you crazy?  Where are you going?  And what are you wearing?”

“I’m leaving,” you snap back.  The burgeoning panic in your chest begins to putter, making you indignant in your desperation.  “And I’m obviously in disguise.”

“Oh.  A disguise,” he says, utterly dry.  His face is theatrical by nature, brows jumping and eyes widening as he speaks.  “Yeah, no one could recognize you like this.  Except for, oh, I don’t know—”

Audaciously, Jisung snatches the hat off your head.  You yelp, throwing your hands up to grab it, but he pulls it away faster than a blink. 

Your hair tumbles free, curls even messier than before.  You slap your hands over your head, frantically smoothing them down.  Your arms start to shake, all that panic and adrenaline bubbling, needing somewhere to go.  You feel as though you are going to burst, a screaming firework shooting through the roof of this stable. 

“I would have been fine with the hat,” you snap.  “I made it this far.” 

“Only because half this house is drunk,” he replies with equal verve.  “Look at you, your hair, your woman’s face, your – your woman’s body.”  He stumbles over that one, eyes flicking down your form and up again.  He clears his throat and shakes his head.  “You would have been caught immediately.  You were caught immediately.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you say.  “I know my way.”

“There’s no way a girl like you has ever ridden anywhere past your family’s land,” he says.

You are flushed with heat and aggravation.  You want to argue but he is not wrong.  You know the general direction to the nearest town but you have never ridden there on horseback. 

“I know my way,” you say again. 

“Do you?”  He takes a step closer.  “You go north – do you know which trail is overrun with bandits?  And the east – do you know which path to take to avoid the mountain lions?  Or the west – if you go over the border and the men who live in those woods discover you alone—”

“Stop it!”  You throw your hands up over your ears.  All that panicked heat simmers and spills.  It turns to tears. 

You sob.     

He’s right.  You know he’s right.  You let your desperation and your adrenaline carry you this far, but you are not prepared for an arduous journey.  You have a sack of jewels that are a greater liability than asset on dangerous roads.  What would you have done if they were stolen?  What would you have done if someone hurt you?  You have nothing.  No map, no direction, and no hope.

Jisung’s shoulders drop as he watches you cry.  His own passion tempers itself, his frustration cooling in the face of your tears.  He let himself get carried away too, but you don’t blame him.  He is a kingsguard.  He is duty-bound to protect the king and the king’s property, which you are. 

He found you committing treason.  You are lucky he did not hold a sword to your throat and drag you to the king. 

His sword stays sheathed.  He looks at you, expression morose.   

“I’m sorry,” he says in a soft voice.  “You know I can’t let you go.” 

“I know,” you whisper, gasping through your tears. 

If you were not so miserable, you might have laughed at the look on his face.  You are certain this man has encountered many adversaries, but never a sobbing woman.  He would have been happier dealing with a real thief. 

His hand lifts and falls as he wars with himself, evidently debating whether he should touch you or not.  You stand there, sobbing into your hands while he watches helplessly. 

When he does touch you, it is careful.  First, just his fingertips, light on your shoulder, then the slow curving touch of his palm as he gently squeezes.   It is the first kind touch in days and it sends a shiver down your spine.  You look at him, eyes wet with tears, imploring with no words. 

His mouth opens but he doesn’t speak.  A breath stutters past his lips.  Slowly, he takes back his hand, curls his fingers into his palm.   He swallows. 

You stare at each other in the dim lamplight.  You are not sure how long you would have stood there, silent, staring, but you are interrupted before you can find out.  There is a soft knock at the stable door and Jisung jumps as if it was an explosion.  His head whips around, looking between you and the door. 

“Fuck,” he says.  His brows jump and he covers his mouth.  “You didn’t hear that.  Quick.” 

He does not stop to explain.  You have no opportunity to ask questions.  He swiftly ushers you into the empty stall, closing the door behind you.  He races to the stable door to greet whoever is there. 

You hold your breath, hiding in the shadows as someone enters the stable.  Jisung and the intruder speak in hushed tones that you cannot decipher.  You inch closer to the door, peeking through the slats between the wood.    

 It is another kingsguard.  You recognize him as one from the ceremony, the silver-haired one with the face full of freckles, who smiled at you so kindly.  You would recognize such a unique face anywhere, even though he is out of uniform.  For some reason, he is dressed in civilian garb, even though you know the kingsguard is not allowed to wear anything but their black robes. 

“Thank you again,” the silver-haired man says.  You can hear better as they step further inside. 

“Don’t thank me yet, Felix,” Jisung replies.  “I still think you’re crazy, man.”    

“Still,” the man, Felix, replies.  “Not everyone would have helped.  You didn’t have any problems?”

Jisung is adjusting the saddle on the horse.  His eyes briefly lift and meet yours.  You duck further into shadow. 

Jisung sighs and shakes his head.  He tightens the reigns then hands them to Felix.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jisung says.

Another figure steps into view, one who has been silent this whole time.  You watch as the person draws back their hood, revealing a woman around your age.  By the style of her gown, you can tell she is a courtier from the capital.  She smiles at Jisung. 

“Thank you, Han Jisung,” she says.  “The gods will reward your courageous heart.”

“Ah-ha-ha.”  He giggles nervously, scratching the back of his neck.  “I already have everything I need.  Some of us—”  He casts a withering look at Felix, though his tone is light and teasing, “—can keep our chastity vows.  I don’t need anything more than service.” 

Felix chuckles, holding out his hand to the woman.  She hurries into his arms. 

“If that’s your path, I hope it will make you happy,” Felix says. 

You watch as they help the woman onto the horse.  Felix swings up behind her.  They both pull hoods over their heads. 

Jisung reaches up, offering Felix his hand.  Felix clasps it.

“Brother,” Felix says. 

“Crazy man,” Jisung replies. 

Felix smiles.  They drop hands and Felix takes the reigns.  With an expert click, he marches the horse into a swift canter and rides out the open stable door.  Jisung strides forward to watch them leave, craning his neck to see further. 

Now you know why there were no guards.  Now you know why the horse was prepared.  Felix and Jisung must have been posted as guards and took the opportunity to sneak Felix away.  Felix, who has evidently committed treason, breaking his vow as a kingsguard to literally ride off with a woman.  

You doubt this was a whim.  You wonder how long the trio has been planning this.  If there was ever a time for a guard to steal a horse and sneak away, it would be in the busy chaos of a wedding week.  Like Jisung said, most of the household is drunk.  Others are tired and resting.  A long journey back to the capital begins tomorrow. 

A journey you will have to make. 

You nudge the door open.  Jisung’s shoulders jump, eyes wide as he looks at you, as if he forgot you were there.  He regards you warily as you step forward. 

“So,” you say.  “It’s okay for some people to commit treason.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Jisung answers quickly.  “And Felix can handle himself out there.” 

You have both witnessed the other commit a treasonous act.  You could rat him out to the king, just as he could drag you back and do the same.   Instead, you stare at each other, your gazes measuring.  They meet in the middle. 

“Do you think we understand each other?” he asks. 

He holds out his hand in offering.  You remember his quick but substantial touch at the ceremony, that moment he wiped the tear from your cheek.  For all that darkness circles the periphery of him, there is something warm at the centre of his character.  It compels you to trust him. 

You take his hand. 

“I do,” you say. 

[atinyjules]

Where The Magnolia Blossoms Ft. Park Jisung {ch-1}

A/n: I disappeared for a while ig...but it was because I had to go help my dad in clearing our ancestral home. So while I was there, I saw a little Magnolia tree with blooming flowers and got inspired to write a historical au with Jisung as my lead, of course!

!!Mind you, this is all fiction. And it is not related to any history. None of the festivals or the things that take place in this story are real, and it is all purely fiction.!!

So here it iss

The Title of the story has been changed, and the name of the kingdom has been changed to Baeguk.

The mini - masterlist for this series can be found here

Genre: Historical au, romance, angst, fluff, forbidden love au, royal au

Pairings: Crown Prince!Park Jisung x fem oc

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, war, strong language , kinda angsty..

In the break of spring, when all the flowers began blooming and the birds began singing , a young prince sat and admired nature's beauty from his secret garden. His heartbeat was calm, and a soft smile graced his otherwise cold and rigid features. Away from all the pressures of the throne, Prince Jisung was at peace in his little hideout. When he was in the garden, he felt more like himself than he ever did in the big palace he was forced to call home.

The pressure and expectations of the throne suffocated him and made him feel sick. Like he was an animal who was forced to be a human. But at least the throne won't bother him for now. He's the youngest, after all, and the title of the Crown Prince belonged to his elder brother, not him, so for the time being, he could fly freely.

That's what he thought, until the day his life changed. The Crown Prince was murdered without a trace of his killer, and just like that, Prince Jisung slept a young prince and woke up the Crown Prince. Due to the sudden murder, the Crown Prince Jisung's life was way more restricted than his late brother, and all forms of freedom were thrown down the cliff. He was restricted from leaving the palace, restricted from meeting his subjects, restricted from visiting his secret garden, and most of all, the Crown Prince was restricted from behaving like himself.

He lost himself and became a puppet, a puppet who had to do whatever his father wanted him to do. Never could the Crown Prince Jisung be just Jisung, it was simply a wrong answer in everyone's eyes. If he could make a wish right now, he'd wish to be a nobody, and if his wish couldn't come true, he'd rather be dead instead.

I am a child cursed by the heavens.

"Your Highness, the King wishes to see you." One of the King's servants said to Jisung, who was brought out of his thoughts. Dismissing the servant, he couldn't help but stare at the calligraphy he just wrote one last time before folding it into a bird and discarding it outside to fly away from his sight.

A child cursed by the heavens can only wish for an early death.

❀❀❀

Jisung's

"Your brother's tomb has been mounted, so now your actual duties will begin. I know how you are, toughen up because, if you're weak, the kingdom will fall. I will kill you myself if you fail to go ahead with your duties as you should." Father said with a cold and chilling tone, making me nod timidly.

"Yes, father." I replied in a soft tone.

"Being too good is not good. The people will take advantage of a merciful ruler, but they will follow the orders of a merciless one. If you remain timid forever, everyone will take advantage of you and your powers. A timid and merciless ruler will fall, but a ruthless and tyrannical ruler will never stop rising." Father said and looked at me before scoffing.

"You're nothing like your brother at all. You're too soft, too timid... to weak. It's a shame that your brother was met with such an early end. He would've been the perfect ruler, but of course... the weakest one had to be left behind." He said, making me clench my fist tightly as I faced the floor.

"You better improve fast, or else I'll send you to Jihyuk." I felt my heart pause for a second at the mention of my brother's name.

"You're dismissed... get out of my sight." He said, making me stand up and bow to him before leaving for my quarter.

Seonhwa's

"You and your obsession with magnolias, why don't you ever make anything else?" One of the elder girls asked, making me perk up.

"It's pretty... besides, it's the kingdom's symbol." I said in a soft tone before getting smacked in the head by her.

"That's boring." She said and left with the newly made robes.

"Crazy wench..." I trailed before going back to doing my embroidery when an origami bird landed on my table.

"What's this?" I mumbled before picking it up and unfolding it.

"A child cursed by the heavens can only wish for an early death...this is so dark. I wonder who wrote it..." I asked myself before quickly hiding it under my skirt when I heard mom's voice.

"Seonhwa? There you are, what are you doing?! We need to quickly get the robes to the Crown Prince!" Mom exclaimed.

"Okay, okay... I'm coming." I said, making her sigh.

"Quick, quick! Or else our heads will end up on the king's table." Mom said in a rushed tone.

Right...the king.

After mom left the room, I got up and hid the calligraphy inside the cupboard before rushing out to help mom.

We had arrived in the main palace and waited for the Crown Prince's arrival after setting up everything. I was currently straightening out the Crown Prince's clothes when I heard footsteps.

"Make way for the Crown Prince." A loud booming voice proclaimed, making everyone panic and quickly get down on their knees to give respect to the Crown Prince. The door was slid open to reveal the Crown Prince in all his light. With a cold and stone like face, the Crown Prince entered the room and sat down in the middle of the room.

"Rise." The Crown Prince said in a low but commanding tone, making all of us rise from our position.

"Your Highness, with the Lantern festival approaching, his Highness, the King had asked us to prepare a robe for you to wear to the festival." Mom spoke in a clear and calm tone before revealing the robe to the Crown Prince.

"I want to see it up close, if that's okay." He requested making mom smile.

"Of course, your Highness." Mom said as me and another seamstress carefully brought it to the Crown Prince who took it and traced his hand over the embroidery.

"The embroidering here is beautiful. Who did it?" He said in a soft voice before looking at mom.

"My daughter Seonhwa did all the embroidery. " she said and bowed before motioning towards me, taking me by surprise as the Crown Prince looked up towards me.

"Seonhwa?" He said my name, making me bow to him.

"I am Seonhwa, your Highness." I said after bowing only to see the Crown Prince looking at me in shock.

"Is there a problem, your Highness?" The Crown Prince's royal guard asked in worry.

"I...no...it's...your very skilled. It's my pleasure to wear such a beautiful robe." He said making my eyes widen.

"T-Thank you, Your Highness!" I said a little too aggressively before kneeling on the ground and bowing, making mom face palm.

Jisung's

"She's definitely her... I know it." I mumbled to myself as I stayed awake in the middle of the night instead of sleeping.

I didn't think about her much, but now that I met her again... why is she all I'm thinking about? She made my heart skip a beat then and still made my heart skip today when we met. Why? Was it because we were older and more mature than we were in the past, or was it simply because I still thought about her all these years?

I got up and took out a box from the cabinet.

"Where did it go?" I rummaged through the box to find what I was looking for, a neatly folded piece of paper. I opened it and smiled as I began reading the contents.

You keep asking me why everyone calls me seonahwa right? So I'll tell you today! My real name is Seo Seonhwa, that's my name. It's a play on the word "Suseonhwa" (daffodil). Mom loves daffodils, so when I was born, she named me Seo Seonhwa because I was her precious little flower.

But some of the girls here call me Seonahwa instead. It's a pun if you didn't understand. They call me that cause I'm timid and cowardly.

When will you tell me your name? I can't keep calling you Park Salgu (apricot)can I?

After folding the paper and keeping it in the box, a transparent material caught my attention. I pulled it out to see the handkerchief with the embroidered magnolia Seonhwa made me when we were kids.

I silently sighed and brought the handkerchief close to my heart.

Park Salgu... don't you dare forget me... ever!

Park Salgu never did!

That's it for this chapter 💖✨️

I hope you guys enjoyed it! Yesterday was my Jeno's birthday but I couldn't post what I planned to. I completed 2 new chapters for his Broken Melodies series but because of the bad internet it didn't save and I lost everything 😭

And by that time I lost interest to rewrite it again 🤧 so I posted this new jisung fic instead.I had been working on this for a month before finally deciding to put it out for you guys so I hope you'll like it! Especially the Jisung simps🥹💖✨️

Chapter 2 can be found here

Likes and rebloggs are appreciated 💖 ✨️

[dweakbinnie]

The Royal Game - chapter six

Hyunjin is a prince. Felix is a prince forced to be raised as a princess by his mother's wish for a daughter.

At a ball, the two meet, and Hyunjin falls in love at first sight. Hearing about their encounter, Felix's mother forces him to try and win over the Prince's approval. What will happen when Hyunjin finds out Felix's secret? Will their wedding go ahead?

Genre; romance, royalty au, fluff & angst, slow burn

Warnings; forced feminisation, gender identity issues, sexuality issues, narcissism Warnings; forced feminisation, gender identity issues, sexuality issues, narcissism

Chapter.List

Parrot Tulips come in various colour combinations. The general meaning behind them is "beautiful eyes," since often, the most beautiful eyes are a complex mix of shades. They are also good to use as a gift for a crush as they tell the receiver that you like that their eyes make your heart flutter. In this chapter, Hyunjin quickly comes to realise his feelings for the Princess and they way she looks at him as his heart doing somersaults.

Word Count: 3.6K

“Why her?” Hyunjin’s mother asked as they saw the carriage carrying the Spring Court’s Princess.

Hyunjin stood strong, aware of his mother’s judgemental glare.

His mother was shocked, to say the least when he brought up the Princess over breakfast. He was sure that the sound of her fork hitting the floor could be heard throughout the whole castle in the silence that came afterwards. After a bit of back-and-forth arguing, his mother finally allowed it as it was his choice in who he was to spend the rest of his life with.

Eventually, a servant was sent to deliver a letter requesting the Summer Court’s Queen and Princess to join them for afternoon tea. Hyunjin’s mother never said anything about her apparent disapproval of the Queen even though they were about to spend the next few hours together.

“She seemed very sweet, and I was not able to have a proper conversation with her last night. If I’m going to marry, I want that woman to be of my liking,” Hyunjin replied, watching the carriage closely.

Hyunjin couldn’t lie that he was nervous, he could feel his heart racing faster than the horses pulling the carriage. He’d spent the night thinking of the Princess until he passed out from the alcohol and exhaustion of the evening. Even his first waking thought was of her.

Princess Lee Felicia had looked so fragile that Hyunjin wasn’t sure if it was some natural male instinct inside of him, telling him to protect her. Or, if he had found a woman which his heart was telling him to love. It was all too early to be certain, and there were formalities that needed to be taken.

As the carriage entered the front courtyard, Hyunjin started to wonder what the Princess would be wearing. From what he’d seen in the glimpses of the ball’s light, he should’ve known straight away that she was a princess.

Hyunjin’s mother let out a sharp sign when the carriage came to a stop before straightening her back and putting on a false smile.

The carriage door opened, and Queen Lee Lina stepped out first. Someone who was most likely a guard from the way they dressed helped Princess Felicia out of the carriage. Hyunjin felt his heartbeat faster as his eyes locked with the Princess for a second before she quickly lowered her head.

“Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, thank you for this opportunity,” the Queen said as she and her daughter curtsied.  

“Thank you for coming here upon my request,” Hyunjin managed to say before his mother. He was surprised that he was even able to say the sentence without making a mistake.

Upon waiting for their arrival, Hyunjin had paced around his room. His manservant, Jisung, was struggling to make an outfit that Hyunjin approved of. The two had almost gone through the whole wardrobe before Hyunjin was satisfied—Jisung had nearly threw the clothes at Hyunjin when he finally said “yes, that will look great.”

Hyunjin also contemplated about what subjects he would talk about with the Princess, and how to apologise for the previous night’s rambles.

“Queen Lina,” Hyunjin’s mother voiced, “it’s been a long time. Oh, how you have aged well. I’m sure we have much to catch up on.”

The Queen’s smile widened and Hyunjin could see that the Princess’s eyes were very similar to her mother's. It made Hyunjin curious if the Princess was like him by taking most of his facial features from his mother.

“I’m so glad that we can meet again, Queen Hyosook. And hopefully, for greater circumstances.” Queen Lina glanced with a sweet smile at her daughter before they made their way up the steps.

Reaching the top, both queens embraced in a swift hug, almost as if they didn’t want to be in each other’s personal space for too long. While the Princess stood awkwardly to the side, her guard and Hyunjin’s manservant were stood between her and Hyunjin.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Princess Lee Felicia,” Hyunjin bowed, making sure to keep his posture sharp.

“It’s an honour, Prince Hwang Hyunjin,” the Princess curtsied.

Hyunjin tried to repress his smile when he saw the Princess’s cheeks go crimson. In no way had she looked ugly in the moonlight, but the sunlight allowed Hyunjin to notice things he hadn’t before. At that moment, he only hoped that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself so he could maybe see the Princess smile more.

“So,” Hyunjin’s mother pattered her son’s arm, bringing him out of his imagination, “I and Queen Lina shall head inside first and leave you two be. Oh, and don’t worry darling, my son is well-trained, he won’t do anything to harm you.”

Hyunjin shot his mother a glare as she playfully giggled, walking away arm-in-arm with Queen Lina. It was hard for Hyunjin to determine the relationship between the queens.

“Where are we going?” The Princess spoke softly and took Hyunjin by surprise.

He turned back around to see her in the same stance as she stood in the middle of the balcony. It was obvious to Hyunjin that she was nervous, but he was not sure how to reassure her nerves with the fact that he was also nervous.

“We are to have afternoon tea in the royal flower gardens. I thought it would be something you’d like since you’re from the Spring courts, and our lands aren’t too different.” Hyunjin felt his heart beat against his ribs as he took a step towards her—trying his best to appear calm and worthy of meeting again. “Would you like to walk… together?”

The Princess looked a little shocked at Hyunjin’s extended elbow, yet she gently nodded and slipped her hand on top of his forearm. Hyunjin felt a strange jolt of electricity go through him. He had been in close physical contact with women he’d found attractive before—the ball for example—however, the Princess’s touch was different. It was as if all his happy nerves were going off and he just wanted to jump around like a young giddy boy.

Playing off a nervous cough, Hyunjin made the leading step towards their destination. The Princess’s guard and Hyunjin’s manservant followed behind, one’s face stone cold and the other relaxed.

“When are you to go home?” Hyunjin asked, tilting his head to look down at the Princess. The Princess was staring off at the flowers they passed by. Hyunjin could only see half her face, and the way her skin glowed under the sun had him realise he was falling deeply for the Princess and falling hard.

The Princess turned to him with a confused expression, “pardon?”

She seemed to always speak with few words, yet to Hyunjin, the single word was a novel in his head. It was as if she didn’t need to say a lot because her actions spoke more. He hoped that the flowers were reminding her of home, and thus making her feel more comfortable. It was only when she looked at him that he realised she had freckles. He hadn’t noticed them last night and in no way did he dislike them.

“I asked when you are leaving back to the Spring Court?” Hyunjin repeated, happily. She was looking at him in way that made him not want to look away. If he could, Hyunjin would freeze time so he could enjoy the moment for longer—even if it was just for second.

“Oh, we were meant to leave this morning.” The Princess turned her sight back to in front and Hyunjin saw the moment her eyes went wide—round and bright.

In the centre of the flower garden, the gazebo stood out. Its white pillars protruded from the colourful flora, and roses bloomed from the vines running up to the roof.

“Wow,” the Princess gasped, quietly.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Hyunjin said though it wasn’t the gazebo he was looking at.

The Princess nodded, focusing on to the food that had been laid out for them. There was a pot of tea along with a selection of sandwiches and sweet treats plated onto a golden tier tower.

Approaching the gazebo, Hyunjin stepped in front of Princess Felicia. “Allow me.” Hyunjin pulled the white-painted, iron chair and disguised patting the cushioned seat to check its comfortableness as brushing away dust. “Please, sit here,” he gestured to the chair, happy with it for the Princess.

“Thank you.” The Princess bowed her head, sitting down. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

Panic flashed for a second across Hyunjin’s face, he remembered how the Princess had said that he was different from what she thought. But it left him questioning what she was expecting, and how he should behave. Hyunjin had been trying to stay as true to himself as he could. He didn’t want to fake who he was so the Princess would fall for the real him. She had seen part of the very real, true him last night.

Hyunjin needed to know what she was thinking. He needed a real novel, not the ones he wrote in his head. “What did you expect, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The Princess sat silently for a second, but that second felt like an eternity to Hyunjin. Her lips twitched as she looked down at the food as if she was searching for the word. “I don’t know.”

Hyunjin’s panic slightly settled at the fact that the Princess didn’t know what to expect. However, it hurt him that she had no expectations. He knew she had barely been outside of her castle—he didn’t even see her when he visited the Summer Court’s capital. The only royal family member he met was the King, her father. Her shy, nervous personality started to make more sense as she had never had many interactions with people outside her castle. She might even have never had a friend. Hyunjin remembered being with Yeji from his earliest memories. He’s always had someone next to him to laugh and play with, but the Princess has been alone with no siblings.

He wondered if maybe she was lonely. “May I call you by just your birthname?” Hyunjin said while pouring a cup of tea for himself and the Princess.

The Princess looked surprised by the question as she slowly nodded her head. “Yes. May I do the same?”

“Of course, Felicia.” Hyunjin paused for a second as he realised how much he liked the sound of her name.

They had formally greeted each other before going to the gardens, but in that setting saying her name felt like greeting any other Princess. Whereas, saying only her birthname with no title, and in a place that felt like it was just the two of them, it somehow had an inappropriate feeling to it. Hyunjin turned his head away slightly as a small smile crept up his cheeks. He acted like he didn’t want love, but what he didn’t want was forced love. He wanted to fall in love naturally, and with Felicia sitting across from him, Hyunjin knew he was heart was falling for her.

“Thank you, Hyunjin,” Felicia’s voice squeaked at the end, and she quickly brought her hand to her face in embarrassment.

Hyunjin could see her face flush red as she looked away. Felicia wasn’t aware that the way she said his name had his heart skipping a beat. She sounded so cute that Hyunjin wanted her to keep saying it—over and over again because he’d never be tired of listening to her soft, gently voice.

Felicia looked at Hyunjin through her long, dark lashes before glancing down at the table. “May I?” She asked, pointing at the food.

“Of course, have as much of whatever you want.” Hyunjin pushed the tower of cupcakes that Felicia had pointed at, towards her. “Please enjoy it all, I had asked for these to be made for you, Felicia.” Her name rolled off his tongue slowly as if he wanted to savour the taste.

“Thank you,” Felicia laughed. It was a short laugh, but sweet enough to have Hyunjin’s heart doing somersaults.

Hyunjin took a sip of his tea as he watched Felicia carefully peel the wrapper off the chocolate cupcake and take a bit. The cupcake looked huge in her small hands, and for a moment Hyunjin’s thoughts went somewhere they shouldn’t have.

Yeji had told him some of the rumours that went around about the Princess, but the Princess sitting across from him didn’t sound like those rumours. She didn’t look ill, her skin was glowing and smooth. She didn’t look frail, yes she was skinny, but still looked healthy. Even his mother had said that Felicia was someone to not bother thinking about, yet Princess Felicia was the only thing on his mind.

Felicia’s expression showed that she was lost in thought, and Hyunjin wanted to know what she was thinking. He wanted to know what the girl had been through to be so timid.

“Did you leave early last night?” Hyunjin waited until the Princess swallowed to not interrupt her eating. He remembered Felicia’s guard coming to retrieve her and when he left the balcony she was gone, completely. He had looked for her throughout the night to be able to talk with her again, and possibly with her mother.

Felicia hummed, placing her half-eaten cupcake down. “Yes, my mother wasn’t feeling well.”

Hyunjin paused for a second, not excepting the answer. “Oh, was it something she ate?”

“No, a headache I think. I’m not sure actually because she didn’t say much when we were leaving, and she went straight to her bed when we got back.” Felicia must not have realised how much she had said. She had gone back to enjoying her cupcake while Hyunjin sat stunned. He thought that she would give another few-worded reply so when she kept talking he almost spilt his tea. Her voice was so smooth and melodic to his ears.

“Are you okay, Your Royal Highness?” Jisung spoke from behind Hyunjin.

Hyunjin quickly shook his head to bring himself back to reality. “Yes, thank you.” Putting his teacup down before he spilt it, he took one of the biscuits.

The whole time, Princess Felicia’s guard stood behind her, saying nothing while closely watching her. He seemed relaxed but Hyunjin knew he wasn’t—no guard protecting a member of a Royal family would be. Hyunjin also liked the style of the Spring Court’s military uniforms. Unlike the Summer Court’s Castleton green uniform, theirs was Prussian blue.

The two continued to eat in silence, glancing at each other now and then. Hyunjin wanted to hear Felicia speak again but wasn’t sure what to talk about. Instead, he enjoyed watching her delicate and graceful movements.

Hyunjin had thought that he’d fall for a woman who was a bit ruggish—someone who liked fighting, like him—yet there he sat, crushing for a woman who was grace itself. Felicia looked like an angel. She was an angel, last night, appearing right when Hyunjin wanted to get away from everything and one. Her presence alone had him so relaxed that he had spoken without thinking.

“Felicia?” Hyunjin smiled when her soft, round eyes met his. “I would like to apologise for last night. I… I said some things that I probably shouldn’t have and I’m sorry if I offended you in any way.”

“It’s fine,” the words were slow off Felicia’s tongue, like a thick syrup. She spoke so sweetly that Hyunjin wanted her to never stop. “Is that why you wanted to meet today?”

Hyunjin’s heart dropped to the floor. “P—Pardon?” He could feel the blood drain from his skin. Not once had he thought that the Princess could have seen his actions as a way to apologise for what had happened. He thought that from how she was the first woman he asked to see again, and the effort he went through to prepare things so quickly, she would understand he saw potential in her as a wife.

Felicia looked at Hyunjin over the rim of her teacup, through her long, dark lashes. “Did I misunderstand?”

Yes, Hyunjin wanted to scream. She almost sounded like she was about to cry, and it made his chest ache. “I didn’t just invite you here to apologise. That may have been part of it, but…” Hyunjin swallowed the lump in his throat. He was struggling for words seeing the Princess looking sad. The gloss over her eyes was painstakingly beautiful. Hyunjin turned his head as he coughed to try and repose himself. “Would you like to go for a walk?” He finally said.

Felicia didn’t reply, instead, she looked over to her guard as if she was asking him for permission. “I’ll be right by your side, Your Royal Highness,” the guard spoke while nodding slowly, his voice deeper than Hyunjin expected.

The Princess turned back to Hyunjin, patting her dress down. “Yes, a walk would be nice,” she said, cautiously.

“Wonderful,” Hyunjin smiled.

Getting out of his seat, he walked over to Felicia, so she could hold onto his forearm like before. She still seemed hesitant, but there was the slightest bit more confidence as her grip felt firmer.

As they walked, Hyunjin was struggling to think of what to say—more of how to say what he wanted to. He knew that he wanted to see Princess Felicia again, however, he was becoming more unsure of her feelings and struggled to make out what she was thinking. The fact that she had contemplated if she was invited to lunch at the castle because Hyunjin wanted to apologise, had Hyunjin thinking back to what she thought of him.

Hyunjin was weary that Felicia might not even like him that way. She may just be being polite out of formality. His mother had even said not to bother with the girl, but she’d broken almost every assumption he had about her.

They walked down a gravel path which followed one of the streams that flowed through the estate. Stones rumbled under their footing and Hyunjin noticed Felicia stumbling slightly as she struggled to walk in her heels.

“Will I be able to see you again?” Hyunjin said, stopping so they could admire the view, and Felicia could rest her feet.

Felicia’s grip tightened slightly as if she was caught off guard. “You want to see me again?” Her lips were agape as she looked up at him and Hyunjin found her too beautiful to want to let go.

“Yes, that is the main reason why I asked my mother for you to come back.” Hyunjin looked ahead, knowing that he would get too embarrassed and start stammering if her looked at her gorgeous face for too long. “I know I may have left the wrong first impression, but I would like to correct that and show you the true me.” Searching for every bit of confidence he could, Hyunjin turned sharply to Felicia. With a deep breath, he got down on one knee and gently held her left hand. “Princess Lee Felicia,” he started, already feeling his chest tighten with anxiety, “I would like to court you with the intention of marriage.”

Felicia froze with an expression that Hyunjin couldn’t make out. Was it happiness, sadness, disgust? The longer she didn’t say anything, the more he started to panic.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Felicia slowly smiled. But before she could speak there was a loud honk from one of the geese that resided on the estate.

Hyunjin immediately got to his feet as he saw the bird charging its way towards them, honking loudly. The Princess’s guard had already pulled out his sword and stood ready to attack if it got too close. However, before either of them could do anything, there was a high-pitched scream and a loud splash from behind them. Hyunjin’s eyes went wide as he saw Felicia sitting in the stream, water soaking her dress and dripping from the ends of her hair.

It took less than a second thought for Hyunjin to jump in after her, not caring about getting wet himself. “Are you okay?” He panicked, worried as he saw her lips quivering. The weather was getting warmer but that didn’t mean the water was too. Hyunjin could feel his soaked socks freezing his toes and could only imagine how cold Felicia was.

The Princess whimpered as Hyunjin bent down to pick her up, holding her in his arms bridal style so she didn’t have to walk.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin shouted, “run back and tell everyone to get a fire going, blankets, anything Felicia will need.”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung said, running as fast as he could.

They were a good bit into the estate, away from the castle, and Hyunjin worried about Felicia’s health. If it was true that she was often ill, he didn’t want to risk her falling into the stream making it worse.

“Pass the Princess to me. I can move faster with her in my arms,” the guard spoke sternly, arms out with his sword put back away. The goose had flown away when Felicia screamed.

“It’s okay, I’ve got her.” Hyunjin climbed up the bank with Felicia still in his arms. He didn’t want to let her go, he needed to be certain that she was going to be okay. “She doesn’t weigh much, and I’ve carried heavier in my time in the military.”

The guard glared, taking a step back. Hyunjin could tell that he wasn’t happy about it, but because of his position, he had to agree. Though it was true, Felicia weighed a lot less than Hyunjin expected which made his anxiety worse. He needed to get back to the castle fast and know that Felicia was safe and healthy.

Author Note; thank you for reading and I hope you're enjoying this fic.

Chapter.List

[nicheappeal]

Kinktober Day 16

Prompt: Worship

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: Felix/I.N.

pre-debut supernatural AU, while also being technically canon-compliant. You can't prove this didn't happen.

Jeongin stumbled to bed. It had been another difficult day in a long string of difficult days. Jisung and Hyunjin’s on-again off-again friendship was decidedly off again. The instructors had them all on a diet, and he was so hungry, but he couldn’t even complain because the girls had it worse. Jeongin hadn’t seen Chan give a real smile even once this week. And on top of all that, he still had to go to school. 

Every day now, Chan would tell them they couldn’t debut if they kept up like this. Jeongin didn’t know if they could even keep up what they were doing, let alone improve. 

He thought about all that as he prayed. 

He opened his eyes, and he was no longer alone. On the bed in front of him sat an angel. He had wings, a halo, freckles, and the sweetest, most beautiful smile Jeongin had ever seen. 

“God has heard your prayers,” he said. “But many mortals are weak. He has sent me to find proof of your sincerity.”

Jeongin nodded as emphatically as he could without taking his eyes off the angel. “How can I prove it to you, O Servant of Heaven?” he asked. 

The angel put his hand under Jeongin’s chin. “You must worship at my altar,” He said. “Drink of my nectar, and I will bless you.” 

“Yes!” Jeongin said eagerly. And suddenly, the angel was naked. Jeongin tried to look away, but the angel’s hand was still holding his chin, and he used that grip to hold Jeongin still. 

“Do not shy from the majesty of Heaven. Gaze upon me, and show me your worship.”

Jeongin gazed. The angel’s body was as beautiful as his face. The freckles covered his whole body, and his skin looked smooth and shining. Every part of him was perfectly shaped, specially made by the Creator himself. Even—Jeongin blushed, but he had been commanded not to look away— even his cock, standing proudly between his thighs. 

“Ah, I see you understand,” the angel said. “Show me how you worship your God.” And as he brought his cock closer to Jeongin, finally Jeongin understood. This was a test and a blessing, all in one. Could he see beyond the mortal understanding? Could he accept the gifts God granted him, regardless of the form they took? Yes, Jeongin decided. Yes, he would open his heart to Grace, whatever form it took. 

Jeongin opened his mouth and let the angel guide his cock inside. He felt the grace of God fill his mouth and his soul, and struggled not to choke on it. The angel, with the infinite kindness and mercy of God, stroked his hair as he worked to conquer the impurity of his body. It was only when Jeongin had himself under control that the angel gave him another command. 

“Suck,” he said. “Show me you are willing to work to receive His grace.” 

And so he did. He followed the angel’s every direction, until finally the angel held Jeongin’s head and pushed himself deep inside. Jeongin couldn’t breath, but he willed himself to stillness. He could feel the angel’s grace spilling down his throat, filling his body with light. He worked his throat, trying to swallow every bit the angel would deign to offer him. He felt lightheaded when the angel finally released him. 

“Sleep,” the angel said. His voice sounded off in some way, but Jeongin was too lightheaded to wonder at it. “You have pleased God. Tomorrow, he will send you the answer to your prayers.”

All at once, the angel vanished, taking with him the light he emitted. And in that darkness, the blackness of sleep came up to claim him.

Jeongin woke up happy. Hyunjin commented on it as they rode the bus to school together, asked him how he could be so happy when everything was so hard, and Hyunjin himself could barely keep his eyes open. All Jeongin could say was that he had faith.

And later that day, his faith was rewarded. A new trainee had joined. Chan smiled as he told him. 

“Felix,” Chan said. “He’s from Australia.” The ‘like me’ was implied. They entered the classroom, and only then did Jeongin understand the true generosity of God. For sitting right there, smiling bright enough to lift the spirits of all who saw him, was the angel of God, sent down from Heaven to save them all.

[slytherinshua]

I need some seo yul brain rot please 🫶🏻⚰️👩🏻‍🦯

skdjksd seo yul is such a baby </3 (i tried to write these without spoilers for s2 cause ik ur not there yet!!)

if you kiss him in the morning, during the day he'll accidentally think back to it and COMPLETELY start walking in the opposite direction he was supposed to be going cause he's so flustered over just the thought of it 💔 like he's definitely not one to initiate kisses, it has to be you every time, because hes so shy :( and he'd probably blush soooo much, you just affect him that much. he loves when you give him cheek kisses and he likes to kiss your hand cause hes a gentleman </3

he'll definitely be the type to be a personal bodyguard boyfriend™, he's a very powerful mage so ofc he's gonna put his skills to good use (protecting you). he won't even want you to go out to the market on your own, he needs to escort you wherever you're going. he can be convinced to let you go with just your maid or another servant, but it puts him more at ease if he's at your side 24/7

hes shy about expressing how he feels okay... he needs coaxing to say the words out loud, so he finds other ways to say it. one of his favorites is with flowers!! he's so diligent with learning the meaning of flowers and sending you bouquets of them. it's like a little quest for you to figure out every secret message he sends. "i miss you" when he sends you orchids. "think of me" when he sends you clovers, and "i'm thinking of you" when he sends you salvias. and, of course, red roses symbolizing "i love you" aren't an infrequent gift from seo yul

seo yul has a way of showing up at exactly the right moment. if you're walking home late at night and you think you're being followed, he'll randomly appear at your side to make sure you get home safely. if you're about to trip, he somehow reaches your side in time to catch you in his arms. he just can't have you getting hurt or being in danger :( not on his watch!!

he's so diligent about you. once he notices something about your preferences, it'll never leave his memory. he has made some mistakes, trying to give you gifts that you actually didn't like. but all you need to do is tell him and he will commit it to memory. within a year of your relationship, he knows practically everything there is to know about you. he knows even better than yourself. if anyone needs to know anything about you, he's the person to ask. your food preferences, what you like and dislike, compliments you appreciate, your interests. he has it all down like the genius he is

as we know from his time having a crush on naksu, he'll break the rules for you with no hesitation. if you miss him and he's supposed to be in songrim, he'll make an excuse to go back home just to spend time with you. he is so lover boy coded, he spends every day thinking about you and wishing he could spend time with you. when he is with you, he's so caring and attentive, but shy and easily embarrassed. he's just so adorable and lovable 😭

↳ k-drama taglist: @yeonjuns-redhair,, @blue-jisungs,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @edensgardenn

[skzleeknowcore]

Cinderella

Summary: Y/n grew up believing in magic because her mother believed in magic, but one tragic day, her mother became very ill, and it left y/n and her father in shambles. A couple years later y/n father married her step-mother who also had 2 daughters so that made them y/n's step-sisters

Pairing: Prince!Han jisung x servant reader

Cinderella Masterlist

Part 1 (in progress)

[astrosfaerydae]

Kinktober Masterlist!

So first off some housekeeping. Prompts are based off of Nymphare's Kinktober 2024 List. They will range in ratings from G-E(some prompts like first dates don't necessarily need to be explicit imo). I will be swapping between the dead dove and general list. I wont be doing all of them but as it stands I think I have 25... I cut a few to make room for dealers choice which I am excited for to say the least. This list will be updated as I make the posts for each prompt. Anyways lets get to it!

🎃 Day 1: Costumes (General List)

Rating: T Words: 908 Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Costumes, Canon Comp, Halloween Party, Chan and his many man crushes that Felix uses to his advantage 🔗: Cloud Vs. Fred Flintstone

🎃 Day 2: Hybrids AU (General List)

Rating: T Words: 3.6k Pairing: Minsung Main Tags: Hybrids AU, Cat Hybrid!Jisung, Major Character Injury, Getting Together, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort 🔗: Astray CW// Domestic Abuse, Animal Abuse, Injury, Broken Bones (none of these are in graphic detail however but here just in case)

Day 3 (no post)

🎃 Day 4: Firsts (General List)

Rating: G Words: 1k Pairing: Minsung Main Tags: First dates, fluff, lots of fluff, sickfic(kinda), Canon comp 🔗: For so Long I Have Waited “Do you remember what today was supposed to be?” Minho asked, gently swaying back and forth. He was all dressed up with nowhere to go in comparison to Jisung’s big ratty tee-shirt and boxers. 

🎃Day 5: Eating Something Sensually (General List)

Rating: E Words: 1.1k Pairing: Minsung Main tags: Blow jobs, canon comp, Minho is a grump, fluff and smut, Banana's 🔗: Ba-Na-Na, Ba-Na-Na "Why don't you come over here and taste the real thing?"

🎃Day 6: Terms of Endearment (General List)

Rating: T Words: 3.2k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Canon comp, excessive use of the word baby, Idiots in Love, Getting together, Fluff 🔗: I'm Holding on to Hope, It's a Problem I Admit “And you are sure you aren't a natural blonde or did the bleach strip your brain cells too?” “Would you stop making fun of me?!” Felix laughed softly trying to hide the slight sniffle. Jisung must’ve noticed, however, as he pulled him into a crushing hug. “You love him don’t you?”

🎃Day 7: Forbidden Love (General List)

Rating: E Words: 4.6k Pairing: Chanlix Main tags: Royalty Au, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Power Imbalance, King Chan, Servant Felix 🔗: Scared to Burn the Page Felix entered the room and stood like a statue until the doors shut. Even after, his demeanor was unusually sheepish. To be fair, a private meeting with the king is rarely ever a good thing. And depending on Felix’s reaction, it hopefully would be a great thing. “Relax,” Chan said, forcing a smile, “I didn't call you here to berate you. Quite the opposite actually.” “Oh,” Felix’s gait grew more confident as he approached the king, “So what am I here for, your majesty.”

🎃Day 8: Watersports/omorashi (DDDNE)

Rating: E Words: 3k Pairing: Poly skz (Jilix, Minsung, Chanlix) Main tags: Omorashi, Kink exploration, desperation, frottage 🔗: Take the Pleasure With the Pain, Double Doses “Have you ever heard of something called,” Felix paused for a moment as he tried to remember what it was properly called, “I think the term is, uhmm, Omorashi?” “DUDE!” Jisung nearly choked on his drink making Felix shrink against the wall, knocking over a broom in the process.

🎃 Day 9: One True Love (General List)

Rating: T Words: 3.1k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Royalty AU, Prince Felix, Guard Chan, Post-break up, arranged marriage, true love conquers all 🔗: Pull Me Close and Twist the Knife Neither was happy about the arrangement. It was clear in the way that Jisu walked down the aisle. Her face drenched in tears of hopeless misery, more falling with each step. Felix, too, was crying as he looked at her with pity. They didn’t want this.

Day 10 (No post)

Day 11: Corruption Kink (DDDNE)

Rating: E Words: 2.6k (chapter 1) Pairing: Minsung Main Tags: Corruption kink, Church Retreat, Jisung is the pastors son, Minho is forced to be there, First times, Blow jobs “Are you ok? You seem down.” 🔗: Maybe Hell Ain't So Bad After All “Just peachy,” His voice was sweet but his lips had curled into a sarcastic snarl, “I was forced to be here so please if you aren't here to fuck me or feed me please leave me alone.” “O-oh okie-dokie then,”

Notes:

cw// Religious guilt, blasphemy, Negative talk about religion, implied homophobia This one has two chapters! Chapter two is coming on the 30th! But they can be read separately! title: If I'm There by Bad Omens

🎃 Day 11: PDA (General List)

Rating: T Words: 1k Pairing: Chanlix Main tags: Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Hiding in Plain Sight, Not so secret, Alcohol, Drunken Karaoke, Fluff 🔗: Hey, I Want Your PDA CW// Alcohol Changbin turned his chair to fully face Felix, “Are you ok?” “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jisung added as he turned in their direction as well. Felix tried to speak but the words kept getting caught in his throat. It didn’t help that Chan was giggling like a drunken fool beside him, “Wait d-did you not see—” “You did see a ghost! I knew this place was haunted!!” Jisung sounded way too excited about that.

🎃Day 12: Subspace/Domspace (General List)

Rating: E Words: 2.1k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Canon Comp, Choking, Sub Felix, Dom Chan, Still somehow fluffy..., Subspace, Doms need reassurance too (Please read all the tags on the fic thoroughly) 🔗: You Always Wanna Run Your Mouth  “Well that worked better than I thought,” Chan chuckled proudly, “Now, open wide.”

Day 13 (No Post)

🎃Day 14: Somno (DDDNE)

Rating: Explicit Words: 2.7K Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Somnophilia, Canon Compliant, Anal sex, Consensual Non-consent but even that is dubious, Angst and Fluff and Smut 🔗: I Don't Believe You When You Tell Me You Are Fine Then there was a comment on reddit he couldn’t get out of his head. “My girlfriend wakes me up with a blowjob every morning. 10/10 would recommend.”

🎃Day 15: Wearing Your Significant Others Clothing (Gen List)

Rating: E Words: 1.5k Pairing: Changjin Main Tags: Canon Compliant, Newlywed dorm, Smut, Frottage, fluffy smut! 🔗: If We Have Each Other “Hey, babe,” Hyunjin leaned inside the steamy bathroom, hanging onto the door frame, “Do you know where my clothes are?” Changbin moved the shower curtain enough to poke his head out. Despite the situation Hyunjin couldn’t help but giggle a little at the ball of white suds on top of Changbin’s head, running down his face, making him look like Santa Claus, “Shouldn’t they be in the bedroom?” “Yes, but I looked already,” Hyunjin whined, “It's not there.”

🎃Day 16: Dealers choice: Blood (DDDNE)

Rating: E Words: 4.4k Pairing: Minsung Main Tags: Blood, Blood as Lube, Violence, Fluff(yes fluff), Smut, Vamp/Human, Purgatory, Supernatural Crossover 🔗: Killed and Born Again His soul was never meant for purgatory. Yes, he was a hunter before he was turned and could survive here, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he had to survive here.

Notes:

CW// (It's DDDNE soooo yea) Blood, Vampire bites, Violence, Death The only context readers need to understand this if you haven't read any of the Love is The Death series is as follows: Jisung was a hunter turned vamp and was killed. Minho was a revenant who refused to crossover, but was eventually convinced by Chan and Felix. Chapter one is the smut and Chapter two is the plot for those that care to read it but it's not necessary if you are just here for kinktober lol!

🎃Day 17: Edging (DDDNE)

Rating: E Words: 2.7k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Orgasm Edging, Orgasm denial, Technicaly CNC, Light BDSM, Canon comp, Felix is a stubborn brat CW// Consensual Non Consent (Felix can't say no or he loses the bet) 🔗: Take Me Past The Edge It was a stupid bet. He had been bragging about his stamina compared to Chan’s. A simple teasing remark to rile him up. Quickly it devolved into a competition and of course Felix felt the need to prove himself.

🎃Day 18: Praise Kink (General List)

Rating: E Words: 1.7k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Praise kink, Canon comp, Unintentional Arousal, Chan is oblivious to what he's done, Hand Jobs, Cum swallowing, PWP 🔗: I am a Good Boy With a deep breath he tried again. It wasn’t much better in his opinion. “Loosen up a bit, shake it out! Your voice is beautiful, just project it a bit more forward on this next take, babe,” Felix could hear the smile in Chan’s voice, making him blush. Another take and Felix waited for feedback. It was taking a bit which put him on edge, “Mmhm, just like that,” with Chan’s voice over the intercom the anxiety lifted, “Let’s move on to the intro and first verse next, that was gorgeous Lix. Beautiful.�� 

🎃Day 19: Love At First Sight (General List)

Rating: T Words: 1.5k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Mutual Pining, Not actually unrequited love, very light angst, FLUFF(yes in caps you think I'm gonna get love at first sight and not make it fluffy as fuck) 🔗: We Were Just Kids When We Fell In Love Seven years later “So let me get this straight, so you're telling me you have been in love with Felix from day one? He doesn’t know! AND you aren’t planning on telling him?!”

🎃Day 20: Will You Marry Me?

Rating: G Words: 1.6k Pairing: Changjin Main Tags: Fluff, marriage proposals, some humor, Canon Comp 🔗: I Love You and That's All I Really Know  “You are going to what? Repeat that, please!” Chan stared back at Changbin with wide-eyed excitement. Jisung too was bouncing in his seat waiting for him to answer. “I am going to ask Hyunjin to marry me,” Changbin sighed, the relief of getting this massive secret off of his chest was immense. “When?! How?! I need all the details!” Jisung squealed back in excitement.

🎃Day 22: Kissing All of Them

Rating: T Words: 9k (7 chapters) Pairing: Felix-centric Polyskz Main Tags: Fluff, First kisses, poly skz, getting together, light angst, Canon Comp 🔗: Every Kiss Gets a Little Sweeter  “I’ve never kissed anyone,” The alcohol had melted through Felix’s brain to mouth filter, he meant to say yes but the overwhelming insecurity hit him like a truck. “Wait,” Jisung rolled to the side and stared up at the ceiling in confusion, “You have three sexy ass boyfriends and you haven’t kissed any of them? Not even Chan?! Didn’t you ever play spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven? What did you do in school, study?!”

🎃Day 23: Aphrodisiacs

Rating: E Words: 2.4k Pairing: Chanlix Main Tags: Smut, canon comp, desperately horny, fluff(its chanlix its gonna still be sweet) 🔗: Fuck Me! No, Really Fuck Me! “How many did you eat?!” Jisung seemed exceedingly worried as he slammed the door behind them. “I dunno, like a handful? Were they special or something?” “I swear to god you keep this between me, you and Chan. Me and Minho take one after concerts before we head home… they have a mix of things that uhhhh spice things up.” “So they make you horny? That’s what's happening to me?” It made sense but this was way more intense than just a bit of extra spice. 

[Main Masterlist]

[pettypartypooper]

! han jisung fic recommendation ¡

other members fic recommendation lists

s = smut , f = fluff , a = angst

drabble [s] by @planet-dusk

summary: dom!jisung

cinderella [f,s] by @j-0ne25 (as a part of christmas evel series)

word count: 6.2k

summary: after your father’s death you’re made to play your evil stepmother’s servant. your life seems overall helpless, until you find three magical hazelnuts

given [s] by @tasteleeknow

word count: 4.5k

summary: you seduced them and took their souls, damning them to a tortured afterlife. you weren’t used to them begging for it

prove it [s] by @ksmins

word count: 1.1k

summary: you know exactly how to drive jisung crazy in order for him to give you what you want

scarlet letter [s] by @charmercharm3r

word count: 4k

summary: night owl workaholic boyfriend, needy horny girlfriend. what else needs to be said?

insomnia [f,s] by @hardstraykidshours

word count: 1.3k

summary: jisung's a bit of a night owl, and he wants to show a little extra affection when he finally goes to bed tonight

open 24 hours [f,s] by @setsugekka

word count: 4.5k

summary: the little store just below doesn’t have much to offer beyond stale chips and lukewarm drinks, but the guy who works there more than makes up for it

drabble [s] by @linosslut

summary: lazy make out session with han

drabble [s] by @comet-falls

drabble [s] by @chvnnie

—————— newly added ——————

all night (lee know, han jisung) [s] by @j-0ne25

word count: 3.7k

summary: there’s three things minho prefers: 1) getting drunk with his best friends instead of attending a lame frat party, 2) playing truth or dare instead of admitting his true feelings by speaking them out loud, 3) allowing jisung to make you feel good instead of having you all to himself

chill [s,f] by j-0ne25

word count: 6.4k

summary: between university stress and additional shifts at your job, there’s one more factor that’s getting on your nerves the most – han jisung, your obnoxiously loud, absolutely lazy and annoyingly attractive roommate

nerd!jisung drabble [s] by @comet-falls

urge [s] by @hwajin

pussy drunk ji thoughts [s] by @lix-ables

host requested: han jisung from one night at the back door series [s] by @cb97percent

word count: 4.7k

experiment failed...? [s] by @skz-hell

word count: 6.3k

strawberries ft lee minho, han jisung [s] by @tasteleeknow

word count: 5k

summary: your boyfriend catches his best friend moaning your name

start of the movie [s] by @charmercharm3r

word count: 4.7k

summary: everything with him feels so fast, but so right

drabble [s] by @hwanghyunjinenthusiast

drabble [s] by @inkybird

drabble [s] by @inkybird

get spotlight (bang chan, seo changbin, Han jisung) [s] by @hwajin

word count: 3.8k

you tasted just like this strawberry latte [s] by @straylightdream

word count: 5.6k

summary: you’re the only girl i would leave with and willingly let changbin use my room to fuck someone all night

hotline ft bang chan, lee minho, han jisung [s] by @planet-dusk

word count: 1.5k

summary: “not so fast.” chan speaks up again. “there’s one rule: they can play with you, but only if you can correctly guess which one of them is controlling the vibrator you’re allowed to cum”

drabble ft lee minho, han jisung [s] by @stvckwithaphobia

[11:36] ft lee minho, han jisung [s] by @bbyquokka

word count: 1.3k

meet odd [f] by @soobnny

word count: 2.3k

summary: you get to know han jisung under strange circumstances or alternatively “we live in the same floor and the room between ours always has really loud sex so now we’re both in the main lounge at 2am… do you want this last bit of ice cream?”

don’t be a stranger. part 2 to meet odd by [f] by soobnny

word count: 4.3k

summary: you really need to stop meeting han jisung under odd circumstances or alternatively, i accidentally locked myself out of my apartment and you’re offering that i sleep at yours for the night?

other members fic recommendation lists