Mellow speaks: Here we go, a much-needed Felix makeout (and that too, not a soft one)! Thanks to the anon who requested this, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it!!
"Babbbbeeee," he whines for what felt like the umpteenth time, looking at you upside down from the bed, a pout having permanently taken its place on his face. "You've been working for hours, can't you take a short break?" Sighing, you turn around to look at your boyfriend, pursing your lips as you try to stop yourself from just giving up on homework to give him what he wants. But it's hard, especially when he looks so cute, sticking his bottom lip out in the hopes of getting you to take pity on him.
"Felix, I know you want cuddles. Trust me, I do too. But this assignment is due in two days," you say, voice tired and husky from working so hard. You had thought your words would shut him up for a while at least, but on the contrary, all they do is make him even more sulky than before, as he heaves himself up, sitting cross-legged on the mattress while looking at you with sad eyes. "You love your homework more than your boyfriend," he whines, bringing his hands to his face as he fake sobs, hoping to get some reaction out of you. But his efforts go in vain as all you do is roll your eyes before going back to your laptop. What you fail to notice, however, is the way Felix's expression morphs from one of mock sadness to one of shock, and finally into one that screams, "Challenge accepted."
And so, the next thing you know, you are being pulled away from your work yet again, your boyfriend having turned your chair around to face him, his face inches away from yours. "Lix what are you-," you start, only for him to cut you off. "I said I want cuddles, and I want them now," he says, his already deep voice falling an octave lower as he gives you a soft smirk. "But my homework-," you start again, but it appears like Felix is in no mood to let you complete your sentences, saying, "You've been working for hours already. You need to rest. And I need my baby," as he wraps his arms around your form, picking you up and causing a squeal to escape your lips.
"The hell Lix! Put me down," you say, only to have him start carrying you back towards the bed. "No can do babe," he smiles, placing you on the mattress so that your back rests against the headboard, before climbing in next to you. Rolling your eyes, you decide to just ho with the flow, knowing full well that your clown of a boyfriend won't rest until he has you in his lap. And so, that's exactly what you give him, unable to suppress your smile as you throw your legs over his, snuggling closer to his torso. He doesn't waste a second in wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush into his chest, your head tucked under his chin.
"This feels better," he whispers, a content sigh taking over his face as you let out a soft hum in agreement, snuggling even closer to him. You stay like that for what feels like hours, content to just be in each other's arms. A while later, the soft sound of snores catches your attention, and you can't help but chuckle at the sight of your Felix fast asleep, his head resting against the headboard and his lips slightly ajar. "I don't think that's really a comfortable position to take a nap in," you think to yourself, catching yourself leaning in, your lips ghosting right over his. Not wanting wanting think too much, you finally place a chaste kiss to his lips, lips curling into a smile as you register just how warm and soft they are.
The small action is enough to wake your boyfriend up, his eyes fluttering open as a groggy smile graces his lips. "Hey there," he says, catching you in yet another kiss, this one bolder and longer than the first, his hands moving from your waist to your hips as you wrap your own around his neck, pulling him in deeper. Feeling experimental, you dig your teeth into his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from him as he sticks his tongue out, your own wrapping around it as you battle for dominance. He eventually wins, biting on your tongue and catching you by surprise, your eyes narrowing as his lips curl up into a smirk. He continues to suck on your tongue before his own moves past your lips, exploring the depths of your mouth. Now it's your turn to moan, fingers getting themselves entangled in his soft curls as you begin grinding your hips against his, feeling your butt being squeezed as Felix pulls you closer to himself, your chest rubbing against his.
Wanting more, he suddenly pulls away from the kiss, a whine escaping your lips at the loss of contact. It doesn't take long for it to be replaced by a gasp, however, as he moves his lips to your jaw, moving down towards your neck, biting and sucking on your skin. Tilting your head to give him a better angle, you shift your hands to his shoulders, eyes closing in pleasure as Felix lets out a soft groan against your neck, no doubt the effect of you rubbing your hips against him. Hands making their way back to his hair, you tug on it, indicating your need to have his lips back on yours. Pulling away from your skin, he softly blows on the fresh mark, smirking as he notices your body shiver from the sudden coolness.
Finally lifting his head up, he catches your lips in another kiss, your homework long-forgotten as be gently pushes your body down towards the bed, pinning it to the mattress as he hovers over you, your slipping under his T-shirt, raking up and down his back. Pulling away after an eternity, Felix gulps as he takes in your appearance. Lips swollen, cheeks red, neck marked in hickeys, hair messed up, he can't stop himself from whispering, "I want you," only to have you reattach your lips to his, the taste addicting as you ready yourself for a long night.
⚠ all works are for fictional purposes; charcterization are not meant to represent idols in real life.
also available in ao3
wordcount : 4k
THE BANG RESIDENCE. JULY. 1939
INT. THE FRONT PARK
Son Mari—22, neck length black hair—stared at the house, nearly brushing her nose to the black gate that shields its front. A grand mansion, Georgian, with two rows of windows above one another, and a few more for the attic. It has two wings, hidden slightly amongst the trees at the side of the park. The roofs are stark, deep red clay against the ivory walls. Before it is a fountain, the trickling water adds to the solemnity of the estate. A cobblestone pathway circled it, wide enough for automobiles and carriages to swiftly enter.
MARI (nervously mutters)
She exhales, releasing the tension in her. With a hand full from holding her bag, she pushes the gates open, enters, and latches it with her back. She pauses there for a moment before standing up with a big inhale.
MARI (hushedly to herself)
I, am, confident.
She walks around the fountain, under the trees; the sight of the windows covered by the leaves.
(mutters on, like a prayer) I have confidence, in my confidence… Oh! A pebble… I can do this… I can do this! The Lord is with me, so I can... I can do anything! So you shall see everyone, that I do have confidence, in me!"
With a final bravado she raises her hand to knock, but abruptly halts herself. Mari looks about, finding an electric bell and fumblingly presses on it. She then sighs heavily, leaning to the wall next to it. The travel from the other side of the town had been fatiguing. Her eyes drifted back to the door, deep reddish wood. The knocker was the odd one. Greyish-blue silver, fashioned to a wolf’s head. Mari was admiring it, and suddenly a latch sounded; she startled, standing back upright.
The door opens slowly, showing a man in a neat suit and gloved hands, kindly and curiously raising his eyebrows at her.
(blurts out) Hello!
(gapes for a moment) I’m the new governess! How do you do… captain? (quickly) I’m Son Mari!
The man blinked, a pause as he regarded her. Mari was close to breaking down in embarrassment when he breaks into a warm smile.
How do you do? I am Kang Younghyun, the butler.
Mari chuckles, rubs her nose embarrassedly. Younghyun chuckles with her.
I beg your pardon.
A-a pleasure to meet you… Younghyun-ssi?
Yonghyun smiled, opening the door wider and gesturing her to enter.
Welcome, Son Mari-seonsaengnim. We have been waiting for you.
Mari stepped in, Younghyun closes the door. She lets him take her guitar case and follows him through the foyer into a grander hall inside.
INT. MAIN HALL
Younghyun sets her case by a settee, then turns back to her.
If you will wait here, please. Captain will see you presently.
(nods) Of course.
Younghyun gave her a curt bow, walks through one of the doors and out of sight. Mari sat down, but stretches about to look around the hall, giving occasional sounds of awe.
A grand chandelier hangs from the middle of the ceiling, glittering in the daylight sun that comes through the sheerly stained window across it. There’s a stair hall under the window—right before her, at the end of this great hall—connecting the flight of stairs on the left and right side of the wall, wallpapered in red with gold patterns. The staircases, panels, and landings are white ivory, with bannisters of polished redwood. There are doors on the higher floor. Two on each side of the wall, also on the lower ground, yet in doubles.
Mari walks to the one at her right—carefully, no one has come for her yet. She admires the twin handles; beautiful, brass and crafted in swirls of leaves. There was a gap between the doors, darkness showing through. Her curiosity piques. Slowly she nudged the door open, just a sliver to see. Heavily it moved, but steady without squeak or scratch.
It seemed to be an even bigger hall, swallowing darkness if not for an inch of curtain open at the left end, parallel to the stained glass. Daylight streamed through, showing just a little of the wall next to it. They are not wallpaper—paintings, burst of colours framed in golden frames, at least as wide as her height.
(almost inaudible) A gallery?
In the hall, a person approaches behind her.
CAPT. BANG (O. S.)
(cold and sternly) If you’ll step back and shut the door as it were.
Mari’s shoulder jerked up in surprise, turning back to the speaker. A man stood in the middle of the hall, hands by his side, his face the kind which brooks no excuse. Mari felt like a scolded schoolgirl all over, caught in mischief. In a way, she is. So she latched the door back in place, stepping away.
In the future you will remember, that some rooms are to be strictly undisturbed.
Mari watches him. Ah, so this is the captain, she thought.
(slowly nods) Yes, sir.
They regard each other: she in curiosity, him in mild-vexation well-hidden confusion.
Why such stare?
Mari blinked, then leans back, suddenly conscious of her staring.
(hesitant) I've… I confess, when they said you are a naval captain… (clasping her hands)—well, you’re not what I expected. Sir.
Mari has never met a sailor, or a naval officer either; who is she to compare and think Captain Bang looks more like a gentleman. He looks younger than what she thought—no more than forty, surely. His jaw is firm, large nose with dark brown hair. Of average height, upright and prideful stance. Cold, like he has overcome both the worst and greatest things in life, and it had thoroughly refined him. His apparel is dark in shades, suit clasped with brass buttons.
(coolly) You're not what I expected when I asked for a governess either.
Untie your hat, please.
(nods at her headdress) Your hat, put it off.
Mari complied, loosening the scarf off her wide brim straw hat, placing it on her front and smoothing her hair. Captain Bang gave her an overlook, then raises his hand, gesturing. Mari tilts her head confusedly.
Mari frowns. Stiffly, she steps in place, like a ballerina figure of a rusty music box. Then waits for the Captain’s response.
Put on something else—something more suitable before you meet the children.
She chuckles dryly. Her hand brushed over the skirt of her long woollen dress.
That wouldn’t make a difference, sir. My clothes are all of similar cut and shade.
(frowning) How could that be…?
You see… When we entered the abbey, our worldly clothes were relinquished to the poor. Since I am to come here—I cannot wear my robes of course, and well… Only these are immediately available. What the poor didn't want.
Captain Bang thought it over, hums.
We have a seamstress, so I’ll send materials for your new clothes. Today, if possible.
Mari brushes her hand behind her head, nods.
Thank you, sir. I would’ve made my own, but there wasn’t time…
Captain Bang waves a hand dismissively.
CAPT. BANG (CONT’D)
Very well, I'll see about it. Now then…
He holds his hands behind him and began to walk about her.
CAPT. BANG (CONT’D)
(directs a hand her way) Your name again?
Son Mari, sir.
Mari-ssi, I have no idea how much experience you've had in this profession, or how much Mother Abbess had described to you…
(mumbles) Just the minimum, sir…
(speaks louder over her) You are the sixteenth from the long line of governesses I've invited—hired, to attend to my children. I hope, you will last longer than your recent predecessor—she lasted two hours, at the least.
(frowned)Why is that, sir?
(musing) Acute fright, to which I cannot persuade over…
(continued more firmly) Ten of them failed my request to maintain discipline, which this house cannot be held without. I want a productive, steady summer. There are scheduled lessons, for after breakfast until midday, followed by an hour of exercise after lunch—walk them around the grounds. Then the younger ones are to nap, while the older ones attend supplementary lessons. Between tea and dinner they are released but for a Bible reading, and bedtime is to be strictly observed.
Mari’s eyes grew wider with each word.
(horrified) The entire summer..?
(brushes her off again) I shall hand you a guidebook tomorrow to help you with it. Pay attention to the subjects—they have to keep up in school.
Captain Bang stops, turns to her, gaze stern.
That is the first of your briefing. Is all clear?
Mari blinks. ‘Packed schedule’ is what her mind wraps the assault of information in. She stood more upright anyway.
(exclaiming, hands saluting) Yes, sir!
The captain looks unamused (much she tried to indulge him). Mari puts down her hand, smiling good-naturedly. Captain Bang looks away with a sigh. He pulled out the silver whistle chained to his breast pocket, placing it before his mouth.
The shrill voice coming out of it got Mari jerking again. Captain Bang blew it again, another long note. A door sounded in the distance, followed by another, and another, overlapped by running footsteps. Mari looks up, seeing boys running out to stand straight behind the bannister. Seven of them, three on the right side and four on the other.
Captain Bang whistled again, two quick notes. The boys turn, facing towards the stairway. The whistle blew again, a more rhythmic, steady note, and the boys—head tall and chest held high, lifted their legs to pace in place. Steadily they marched, in step to the whistle, heading down the stairs until they reached the ground floor. Their form didn't break, faces serious, soldier-like. They align themselves before the stairway), stepping in place until everyone's in place before Captain Bang blew a long, wavy note. With a final stamp, they stopped. Another two short notes, and they turned to face their left, arms side to side.
Captain Bang stepped forward, approaching Seungmin. His hand extended, and the child hands him the demanded book he had held by his side since the march. Captain Bang gently took it and returned to his earlier position with a slow gait.
(loud and clear)
This is your new governess, Son Mari.
The boys made no response, staring straight ahead.
At your notes, step out and introduce yourselves. Mari-ssi, listen carefully and memorize their notes so you can call them.
Captain Bang began, blowing three quick notes. The first boy steps out, stamping a step ahead of him before stepping back in form. Each boy did the same.
A long note, two quick ones.
Half a note and a quarter, followed by a longer one.
Mari lost notice of the next whistle. They sound like birds chirping next to her.
A nearly similar shrill note.
Another pitch of notes.
(slower and calmer) Seungmin.
A note for the last boy. The youngest didn't step out, but at his note turned to stare at his father. His left hand held a rag doll close. At a demanding note blown twice, he finally steps out and back in. Not mentioning his name, yet persisting to stare at his father.
(softly to Mari) Jeongin.
The boys kept still. Captain Bang reached into his pockets, producing a similar whistle with red ribbons attached to it.
New, for your utilisation.
Mari stared at the brass object, then raised her hand.
I wouldn't need a whistle, sir. I'd call their names—why they have such lovely names—
One of the boys turns to look at her.
CAPT. BANG (CONT'D)
(cuts her off) This is an extensive ground, Mari-ssi. I would have no one shouting about—it is ineffective.
(urging the whistle at her again)
Take it, the children will help you with their notes.
Mari reluctantly takes it.
Now, when I want you, this is your note.
Captain Bang started, but Mari cut him hastily.
Hea—I'm sorry, sir!
(her voice lowers, shifting uncomfortably) I beg your pardon—I'd never answer to a whistle. It's for dogs, and herds and—not for people, definitely. Not the children, nor me, indeed. Don't you find it humiliating…? I do.
Yet you are under my employment, Mari-ssi—
Then only for this one… I cannot comply with your request.
Surely I can have but one condition.
Captain Bang pursed his lips, pocketing back his whistle.
(mumbles) It has barely been an hour.
(leans back to look at Mari) Were you always this much trouble in the abbey?
Mari cannot help smiling sadly, recollecting many nuns' horror at the practical, free conduct she does instead of their preferred demureness.
There were much more than this, sir.
The captain scrutinized her more. Some of the children had unabashedly turned to stare at them.
I’m only cannot comply with what I don’t believe, sir.
(relents) Very well then.
Your duty begins from now, Mari-ssi. May your name lives up to your current responsibility.*
He walked away, heading out through one of the four doors. A sudden thought came to Mari, and she nearly called out hadn’t it been for the object in her hand. She placed the brass pipe to her lips, whistling out a sharp note as she stepped forward with a playful gait. The Captain halted, slowly turning back to her stilled form. Jeongin grins at his expressions.
And how am I to call you, sir?
It’s Bang Chan daeryeong-nim. Captain will do.
A pause, then Mari nods. Captain Bang walks away, leaving her and the children alone in the hall. Slowly Mari walked to stand before the boys, regarding each of them. Seven strapping boys, if yet but to grow out the baby fats. The eldest cannot be older than fifteen. All returned her gaze. Some with curiosity, some with narrowed eyes scaling her entire figure. Forms still upright, hands by their side. They wore knee-length pants and jackets) of dark blue colour, with white shirts underneath it, completed with white socks and shoes.
As she expected, the boys rested their hands back, spreading out their right leg wider.
(smiling softly) Well then. How about you tell me your name again, and age. Also... something about yourself. (she looks at Minho) From you?
The eldest stepped forward firmly. Mari takes in his features, rounder and more delicately pointed than his father's squared jaw—albeit the similar way he pursed his lips.
I'm Minho, twelve years old. I don't like governesses.
(retreats back in-line)
Understandable, Mari thought. He’s had fifteen—but how it came to be that much, that needs explanation.
(smiles and nods) Thank you, Minho. I hope we might be good friends, at least.
The boy’s eyes narrowed at her, but Minho said nothing more. Mari allows the next brother to step out, whose dark eyes and hair was sharply noticeable.
I'm Changbin. I'm… ten. (adds softly) I listen well.
Really? Who said so?
Yeonhee-ssi, four governesses before you.
And mum. (steps back)
Mari brushed the thought for later, nodding at the third boy to start. He walks out with his chin titled up.
(steps back in-line)
Jisung snorted, while Minho rolled his eyes and Changbin's mouth pulled to hide his smile. Mari amusedly looks at the blond.
You didn't tell me your age, Hyunjin.
Hyunjin stared straight ahead at the painted glass behind her. As if unconcerned, yet unable to stop the clench of his jaw hiding his glee. From Mari’s right, Seungmin steps out.
He's nine! (grins) You listen well. I'm Seungmin, I'll be seven in September!
(matching his eagerness) Is that so?
Seungmin, you can’t just walk out like that!
The second youngest easily steps back while leaning forward, to make an impish retort to the eldest.
It’s not like Hyunjin-hyung’s going say it himself!
Yongbok cackles beside him. Minho’s face turned indignant, while Hyunjin covered his mouth to whisper threateningly at Seungmin behind the other two. When he turned back to Mari, his eyes got lost in his smile. The second youngest only grins.
(to Seungmin) I was scolding you first!
(grinning) Bang Seungmin, that’s sharp, kid!
(bland) Don’t encourage him.
Mari chuckles, then raise her voice.
All right, all right!
The clamours settle down.
Much as I enjoy the excitement… (looks to Jisung and Yongbok) If you please?
Yongbok holds Jisung’s hand, smiling when the other looks at him worriedly. He looks up to Mari.
I’m Yongbok! I like cookies.
His hair is blonder than Hyunjin, almost white. It already gave him an angelic look, but then he smiled and Mari felt as if her blood cells splutter. Mrs Bang must have been a fairy; Minho, Hyunjin and this young fellow possessed a look so delicate, different from the captain’s appearance.
Yongbok nods, still smiling. Mari is miserably taken in his charm.
I like them too, very much. They make everything better, don't they?
Yongbok nods again, enthusiastically. Mari chuckles, turning to the brother he brought along. The boy shyly looks up at her, honey-blond hair and round eyes.
(quietly) It's Jisung. I… I like stories.
He looks away, hand fiddling at a thread on his pants. Mari hums softly, taking in the boy’s shyness—he was chirpy just five minutes ago.
I'd like to hear your favourites, if you’d share them.
Jisung looked up at her, hesitantly smiling.
We're eight in September.
(mumbles) Not exactly...
They were born right at midnight, twelve minutes apart, which makes it different days.
(still perplexed) I see.
They weren't identical, she realized—but their features complement one another, and their attachment itself would have been a sure giveaway.
I hope we’ll enjoy our time together.
Yongbok nods, then let Jisung pull him back in line.
Mari turned to the last one in line. The youngest.
He seemed to deserve a space of his own, the way his brothers turn with her to watch him with such rapt attention. He ignores it, stares back at Mari with a childish, daring glint. Mari waits, willing herself to not burst a coo at this—adorable pudding. Jeongin stamped suddenly, a sharp, decisive noise.
The youngest moves his doll (a reddish-brown fox with wide ears) closer to his chest as he extends the other arm, showing her an open palm. It took Mari a second to make sense of his gesture.
Ah, you are five years old?
Jeongin folded back his arm to hold his doll close under his chin, nodding.
Mari stares at him for a moment, then shakes her head in fond despair.
(conspiratorially) You have your father's stare.
Jeongin blinks, before giggling and breaking into a smile, showing his little teeth and pushing his cheeks upward. Mari grinned in return, then turned back to the other boys.
I do hope we might be great friends at least. (fidgets with her hat) I've never been a governess before—I did learn to teach, but with more practise in church classes.
(doubtful) And they sent you?
(smiles anyway) We have a lot to learn together. For nine months, I am to share the knowledge you need. That is the duty I hope to fulfil to you.
The boys peer up at her. Somehow she is unlike the governesses they have ever encountered. She doesn’t cower under father nor bent to appease him. A bit to easy, perhaps.
Mari steps back, bowing slightly.
Let’s look out for each other.
The younger ones smile at her; Minho's gaze remains sceptical. From one of the doors, a person walks in, brisk in her steps and claps. The housekeeper, with red hair pulled into a neat low bun, dressed in matching greyish-green frock and jacket over a white blouse.
All right boys, back to your playroom and naps. I've left snacks and tea on the table, run along now.
The boys immediately break form, rushing quickly up the stairs.
(to Mari) Son Mari, was it?
(wide-eyed, bows slightly) Yes.
(extending a hand) I'm Minatozaki Sana, the housekeeper.
Yes. A pleasure, Minatozaki-san.
The elder woman smiled. Her age seems closer to the Captain than Mr Kang, although more alike to the latter.
Sana-san would do. My name and that of my late husband's are a mouthful. Come now…
She ushers Mari to the stairs, and together they climb up.
… I'll show you to your room, it is by the children's bedroom. How do you like the house so far, Mari-seonsaengnim?
(flusters with her cases) Oh, it is beautiful! Very grand—that is, I have never entered a house so large, and… (looks around) the red makes it look courageous.
This place was named the Red Crown then, for its roofs. The late Madame thought it fits her husband’s subtle passion.
(chuckles) Must have been delightful for the boys to have such big spaces to run about.
(rather regretfully) I'm afraid they have little lenience to do so.
INT. UPPER FLOOR CORRIDOR
Sana opens a door at the left, gesturing Mari to enter.
Your room, Miss Son.
The young governess stood still as she looked inside.
(in awe) What room—Sana-san, it is an apartment!
Her bed could have fit two people, with pillows for more than that. Beside it is an open space, with a desk and chairs and a small ottoman. The window behind it is wide, with the late sun illuminating the ivory room. In the corner is her wardrobe, too big for her meagre amount of clothes. Beside it is a door.
A personal bathroom is there.
I hope you will like it here.
Oh, it is more than I deserve!
(smiles) Make yourself comfortable, I'll leave you to rest and settle down. You'll be called for dinner time. If you need anything, there's a bell by your bed, and a maid will attend to you.
(nods) Oh yes.
Thank you. Sana-san.
The housekeeper waved it off.
I'll leave you now. Good day, Mari-seonsaengnim.
(with a slight bow) Good day.
When the older woman left, Mari settled her things by the bed, then closed the door. She walked up to the window, mulling over what she had known of her new situation as she regards the garden and park beyond her.
(to herself) That went well. Though not two hours yet. (chuckles)
We can’t have that now. I’ve just a step into settling in.
She withdraws to the bed sat down, almost losing her balance in the plush bed cover as her fatigue takes over. Mari giggles, adjusting herself to lay down more comfortably.
I'll be spoiled through living here. Think of it: good air, new clothes, such fine room… a soft bed that can swallow me whole.
(pauses) On second thought, handling the boys will compare to it.
They don’t look capable of throwing sixteen people out of the house in the span of three years. But Mari knows better than to underestimate children—just because she’s a grown-up now, she can’t dismiss the wilfulness she had as a nine-year-old. And the family situation might play an effect…
I wonder why Mother Abbess sent me. Even just standing, I’m such a distressed fish on drylands.
Resolutely Mari sat up, hair tumbled out and eyes mulling. But then she nods, certain to make the best of what she has.
But I am here, after all—Lord, I beseech your strength.
She rose, making up a tune as she began to settle her things.
And here I am, at the beginning...
(A/N : I was very careful with this chapter...
"May your name lives up to your current responsibility.*" = Mari is a name I found at Wikipedia (duh)(I'm sorry, but I hope it's... okay if it's not, tell me so) because the meaning is... rather fitting.
Thank you for reading! Hope you've enjoyed your day.)
This wasn't something you'd ever have conjured up yourself.
Indeed, the very idea of doing what you were about to do was nothing if not novel, and you had Chan to thank for that.
Yours was a fairly established relationship, three years of dating and time for each other meant that you were well on your way to a comfortable sort of familiarity, one where you could freely speak your mind, and he his.
Yet one quiet night amongst the bed sheets, huddled together amongst warmth and the haze of sleepy content as the rain pelted down on the bedroom window, your hushed pillow talk descended into something a little more... intimate.
Whispers of fantasies, both yours and his, things that you would be prepared to try in the bedroom given the opportunity and a little courage. Giggles and raised eyebrows, sly smiles and the excitement of anticipation ran between you, the promise of such things to come shoring your relationship all the fiercer.
Restraining, wax play, perhaps the use of a toy here or there.
Nothing too insane. Nothing too vanilla.
That was only until Chan whispered through parted lips.
"I've always wanted to watch you with someone else."
Your initial reaction had been one of shock, raw and unfiltered. Both of you were committed to one another, you knew, yet his suggestion of straying from your monogamous tendencies came as nothing but a surprise.
"Really?" You reiterated.
"It's weird, I know. But I can't help thinking about it," he nods.
"It's not weird... It's just a surprise is all."
"Would you be okay with it?"
"Having sex with someone else? While I watch?"
"I... I don't know, Chan. Isn't that like... cheating? The thought of someone else's hands on me doesn't sit right."
He'd looked at you with a spark in his eye, something you'd never seen from him before.
"What if it were Changbin's hands?"
Now that, changed things.
You'd always had something of a soft spot for the gruff rapper, and you'd be lying to yourself and your God if you said you didn't spend a second too long admiring the way his thighs fitted the sweats he always wore, the way his biceps would curl up when he swept his dark hair off his face under his snapback.
Chan knew, much as he always did.
You hadn't had much opportunity to be all that mortified about it. Indeed, Chan capitalised off your wandering eye, twisted things to suit his needs and desires.
And that, by and large, explained your current situation.
Changbin had - according to Chan - been all too willing to participate in the little experiment, making exclamations of disbelief on his luck when Chan had propositioned him.
"Are you telling me I finally get to see that tight little ass of hers, like, for real?"
You took the compliment as it was meant, allowing the stroke to your ego.
Changbin sits beside you on the sofa, fully clothed, just as you are. His demeanour is that of formality and awkward composure, and you suppose you're not much better than he is. Because frankly, it is awkward.
Chan sits in front of the two of you, legs crossed neatly and arms over his chest.
It almost feels akin to being summoned to the Headteacher's office, the atmosphere fit to break at any moment or the second someone says something.
And before too long, Chan does just that.
"Aren't you going to fuck my girlfriend now?"
Changbin chokes into his hand, your eyes fly open wide as you burn up from head to toe.
Of course, you all knew the score. It was why you were all together, what the purpose of this whole thing was.
But to hear it said out loud, so blatantly and without tact... was startling.
"I, uh... I mean, yeah," Changbin laughs. "I guess that's what I'm here for, right?"
He turns to you, his spine ramrod straight and shoulders squared. You almost half expect him to hold a hand out for you to shake, but no such thing occurs.
He sidles closer to you, across the leather sofa, clearing his throat when the two of you lock eyes.
It's an immutable feeling, locking gazes with a stranger you could see yourself fucking. Like a red carpet rolling out before you, revealing a path that you might one day take, if only you were brave enough. It presents possibilities, opportunities. A whole myriad of 'what-if' scenarios that you know you'll never get the answers to, because you're not living that life, with that person - because you're promised to someone else. In your case, Chan.
But with Chan not a foot away from you, watching your red carpet roll out, seeing all the same possibilities you see when Changbin swallows thickly, his hazel browns shimmering with anticipation when he flicks down to your lips, then back again - you suppose this is the one and only taste you're going to get of another life, at another time.
And the idea of it simply sings to you.
"Kiss her," Chan instructs, his voice hoarse.
Changbin doesn't even register the instruction, but moves to act on it. He lifts his fingertips to your chin, the black tank top he wears falls open at the ribs as he motions, revealing a glimpse of the muscle beneath.
You tense when he closes the distance between you, feeling every inch the filthy betrayer when he tentatively, carefully, brushes his perfect doll lips against yours.
"I said kiss her, not fucking peck her," Chan complains. "What are we, teenagers?"
"Give me a break, this is... This is new to me, dude," Changbin shoots back, flashing him a glare.
"It's okay..." you mutter quietly, placing your hand on his thigh. "It was nice."
Changbin swallows again, and Chan seems to stiffen in place.
"Yeah?" Changbin confirms.
You nod quietly.
He smirks to himself, the dimples in his cheeks make an appearance as his confidence seems to build with your admission.
"Well then, in that case..."
He leans over you in one motion, and this time, he kisses you.
Really kisses you.
Your lips mould together in perfect shape, you're sent reeling back to the sofa as he follows above you, slotting himself between his legs. His tongue finds yours, the muted taste of bubblegum lingers on him, and you find yourself all too excited by the whole thing as a roll of his hips against your sex indicates his own raw, rather erect, excitement.
"Good..." Chan praises. "Start stripping her."
Changbin doesn't need to be told again as he sits back on his knees, tugging you with him by your wrists. He makes quick work of removing your shirt, tossing it aside and unhooking your bra with deft efficiency, enough so to make your head spin.
You're thrown back to the sofa proper when he starts fumbling with the zipper of your skater skirt, his own erection getting in the way of removal of anything.
"Leave it on her," Chan intervenes. "Just get rid of her panties."
Your breaths come shorter and sharper, more ragged as you watch Changbin reach under your skirt, taking hold of the material of your thong and pulling it down your legs, dampened in the gusset where your desire made manifest.
He doesn't seem to notice in his own ferocity, but fans your skirt up to your hips, quickly whipping off his tank top and throwing it to the floor.
The sight that awaits beneath is positively jaw-dropping, and you almost lament that Chan has to watch you appreciate every ridge and prominent line of Changbin's perfect body - because this now goes far past simply doing it for your boyfriend.
You're doing it for yourself.
Because you know you're going to drown in every second of it.
He frees his erection quickly, it hangs heavily between you as he returns to looming above you, smothering your neck with open-mouthed kisses, nibbles and tender bites. He cups your breast with one large hand, massaging and playing with the feel of it, forcing little groans of content from your throat.
You chance a glance at your boyfriend - who's still watching the two of you like he's about to break into an interrogation - only for your core to set alight when you realise what he's doing.
He holds his throbbing cock in his right hand, fisting it slowly, carefully. Spreading the lube he retrieved from God-knows-where across it, his cheeks burnt a shade of rose that indicates his descent into lust.
He really did want this.
He's really not losing his mind.
Keeping your eyes trained on Chan, you pull Changbin in by his broad shoulders, spreading your legs and hooking your ankles around his rear.
"Fuck me," you hiss in his ear. "Fuck me like I know you've always wanted to. He wants it."
Changbin laughs quietly, glancing at his friend working himself, biting on his lip when he comes to much the same conclusion you did.
And with that, he enters you slowly, the stretching sensation of being filled so well makes you keen and mewl against him.
Changbin pushes up your skirt, angling you so Chan can see exactly what your pussy looks like when it's taking another cock, and Chan's eyes roll back right about the same time yours do, albeit for different reasons.
For it seems that stature and personality aren't the only things about Changbin that one could consider 'larger than life'.
He bottoms out inside you, holding still for a moment to allow your adjustment.
"She can take it," Chan hisses. "Don't hold back."
"We'll see about that..." Changbin muses, his hips doing what they do best.
He begins to move, controlled motions of his lower body driving his slick length to the very depths you need it at, brushing against your most sensitive spot almost immediately with the angle he has you in.
You cling to his shoulders, making sure you keep your legs spread as wide as possible, as well as possible given what you're taking in that moment. The squeak of the cool leather beneath you presses against your body, the sofa itself inches in place with the momentum of force Changbin is applying to his motions.
The knot in your core tightens and contracts as Changbin fucks you, the slaps of his skin against yours adding to the atmosphere that's utterly taboo, given the relations of all concerned.
Yet you're far past caring, just as the other two are, and by the time you're trembling and quivering around Changbin's muscled form, squeezing around his length and prominent girth in a greedy attempt to get all the stimulation you can, Chan's already arrived.
He stands from his chair, ambling over to you on the sofa, his aim not to interrupt, but rather, to add.
"Open your mouth, princess," he groans, his cock a throbbing shade of pink in his hand, the veins prominent and thick.
Changbin keeps up his pace, your mind is so hazed and dulled that you'd welcome anything your boyfriend would give you, even his seed in so blatant a manner. Letting your jaw fall slack, your head falls back to the arm of the sofa as Chan positions himself next to you, still seeing himself through to his end.
"You close?" He directs at Changbin.
"Dude I've been putting off finishing for the last ten minutes - you know how tight she is. I'm done," he grunts.
"Then finish. Fill her up for me."
His instruction is all that's needed as Changbin's final thrusts reduce to feral ruts, desperate grinding and groaning as he finishes inside you, sparking your own orgasm to fruition with the sensation of him stiffening inside you, swelling and releasing.
Chan glides over his cock once, then twice, a final and firm third time before spurts of his warm release escape the tip of his tender cock, gracing your tongue and lips, salty and thick. He shudders and curses into the air, though keeps his hooded eyes firmly locked to your quivering form.
With Changbin collapsed on top of you and your boyfriend fucked out beside you, your sex drive ia well and truly sated for the time being...
You wonder if they'd be open to making this a regular occurrence.
Captain Bang has made peace to the bleakness of life and the lump in his heart. At least there are ballroom courtesies—the loud entertainment and people distracting from his loneliness.
The boys are tired and bored out of their minds. The same room day in, day out, the droning voices pompously instructing, fawning to discomfort… assuming without reason. Toying their patience is more amusing—more worth the time.
Then one summer day Younghyun opened the door. Another governess, another introduction and briefing. But Son Mari counters her naivety of the world with her sparrow-like cheeriness. To the boys, she's a genuine comic; to their father... he's never been met a person more puzzling in his life.
But hey—she’s a qualified teacher!
ongoing, multi-chaptered (with the bonus, I estimated it to be 20), weekly updates; single-parent bangchan, and the rest are kids; fluff; some slight angst (emotional and mourning); romance; obviously, chaotic fun! (or at least I try to) ; come along the journey!
[ 1 | ... | 20 ]
This is the first note (introduction) so I don't have to write bollocks of sentences before each chapter.
I wrote this the day Dad announced in the morning that Mr Plummer passed away. I'd like to raise a glass again to the man: to me growing up he was Captain von Trapp, then Henri the Pigeon and one of the few last times I went to the cinema I get to see him on a wide-ass screen as Harlan Thrombey... He's cool.
Later in the afternoon, I was chopping vegetables to stock the fridge and the tangles in my head were like, "Chris Bang has seven 'kids' too now... It'd be fun... Make the 'Maria' a reader-insert maybe? Or OC..? Okay, but what if... JYP-folks maybe? And not at Chris' recent award ceremony looks...from last year too..."
Yeah, just like that. This happened. Putting Stray Kids in The Sound of Music, equals #alternatuniverse. A very much delayed project so I feel like it should go out already... even if I only have... a chapter fully ready.
I've seen the movie, I've read the book by the actual Maria, and I've seen the anime series! So it will be a blend of the three, plot-wise. I intend to post a chapter each week. Please look forward to that. Since the storyline is certain, I felt assured I can finish this (*coughs in recollection of a forgotten fic).
But I just really want to delve deeper perhaps, into the emotional sides of each character, over what had happened in the past and how it affects them in the 'present'. I did consider having the female character being Y/N but like (*sits up in a chair, ready to put out argument)—I really want her to be a whole character. This might brush off the Y/N trope which is adjustable and inclusive because you can either self-insert or make up a character of your own imagination but I just want that character to be firm—has her own quirks and looks and whatever. I might add more to this, but, later! It is open for discussion as well, I'd like that.
A lot of people from the kpop scene might appear. You might curse or enjoy the fun with me.
This will be set like the movie, the year 1939. Without the war and invasion. The place would be in Korea, but—historically incorrect since the house and ways are European, and those weren't good times in the peninsula. I'm really indulging in... the advantage of fictional freedom.
Also, I've modelled it like a script because I am awful at, internal thoughts description… or description in general, compared to dialogues. But it's fun, if not a thorn to edit. I can do this.
My disclaimer, the 'faults' you might help or critique me in improving:
-I am not a native English or Korean speaker, there might be grammar/cultural mistakes.
=I am not Catholic so *sweaty smiley face*… anything mentioned here of being a nun is by shallow research (which I will do more of) or what I get from the book and movie.
All roight, that will be all for now I think. I might add or revise more later on but for now... enjoy your stay.
Welcome to Softly Savage Mint Yoongi’s week of spooky and sexy stories to count down the last week of the best month of the year! Please enjoy these seven stories, about a zombie, a vampire, a witch and her familiar, a werewolf, a serial killer, a grim reaper, and a monster hunter- respectively. Each story is standalone, so you may read them however you like, and remember to stay scary, and sexy. ;)
Spookinktober 2021 Day 26
Pairing: Changbin x f.reader
Spooks: Graveyards, monster hunting, zombies (referred to as shamblers), and ghouls. Descriptions of supernatural laws. Near-death experiences. A singular graphic description of stabbing a zombie in the head.
Kinks: Public sex. Some mild exhibitionism. Rough/punishment sex. Oral (m. rec), creampie.
He warned you. He really did, no matter how curious you were. It was enough that when he was home, he would tell you of his horrific and terrifying adventures in great detail. Catering to your adoration of the spooky and creepy, and his fondness of you had led you both here all those years ago.
Changbin had been your childhood friend. You’d been terrified of monsters and the stories about them as a young girl, and he had always been there beside you, swearing to fend them off and protect you.
As if he knew all along, years later, he would come to have the abilities required to be a licensed, practicing Monster Hunter as his occupation. Although it shouldn’t surprise you, given his determination and grit for the things he has his eyes set on.
Eyes set on you, ever since the night he came home after his first kill and you declared that you were no longer afraid of the monsters that lurked in the night. You remember staying up all night with him, explaining your ridiculous logic that if he told you all about the things that go bump in the night, you might understand them instead of being afraid. Ridiculously, how it had actually worked.
He’d grown handsome and burly in his transition from boy to man. Perhaps you’d harbored a crush on him since you were seniors in high school, but never had time to dwell on it with your own respective studies. You didn’t see him often after graduation; he was the only one in your school, and one of three from your state that went to the Monster Hunter Academy after high school.
You remember missing him desperately. Changbin is actually soft-hearted with those he cares for, and he still swears to this day that it was your late night phone calls full of tears about missing his stupid face that got him through the worst of his MHA days. When he came home finally, it had only been natural that he pulled you into the tightest hug and kissed you until neither of you could breathe.
Years later, after those awkward confessions of feelings and first dates and unorthodox gifts of the macabre and supernatural, here you were. Settled into playing house while your boyfriend bravely traversed the darkness to exterminate every monster that crossed his path. Sometimes he would be gone for a few days, but he would always come home with his lips curled into an affectionate grin and a story to tell you.
Sometimes, if he came home from a job midday, you would leave work to find him standing across the street from the school where you taught. Changbin would be the perfect picture of the classic biker boyfriend, leaning against the seat of his motorcycle, leather jacket hanging open over a fitted black tee, and one hand gently gripping a bouquet of flowers just because they made him think of you. It surprised you, this softer side of him, and made you fall deeper in love with his romantic heart.
There were other times, when he was home but still investigating something, where he would be less talkative. Instead, worrying at his bottom lip with furrowed brows as he thought about the case he was on. He would make his tonics and sharpen his bolts and knives or polish his shotgun after he finished making more special bullets. He’d carve new runes into the wood of your home or lay down new traps when he was worried, set on taking whatever precautions were necessary to make sure you were safe when he wasn’t there.
Once or twice, you’d asked to come along, on cases you thought seemed harmless and easy for him to manage. Changbin would always refuse, desperate to make you stay away from places he thought or knew were haunts for vampires or werewolves or ghouls.
For the last four years, the look in his eyes, pleading you was enough to placate that curiosity. Tonight, he was checking out a local haunt, a graveyard only a thirty minute walk from your home on the edge of town. Mostly to appease the rumors spread around about a group of shamblers that had unusually stuck around rather than passing through.
He’d been gone for twenty minutes when you spied his favorite knife on the kitchen table. The need to return
it to him had you lacing up your boots in minutes. Then, a logical thought crossed you. If you ran, you could probably catch him- you doubted he was sprinting to the scene. If he were miraculously already there, well, then what harm could there be in following his trail of corpses until you found him? Surely if you followed the path he laid behind him, you would be safe.
It took you only twenty minutes of jogging to see the decrepit wrought iron fencing that lined the graveyard. A massive willow tree stands just inside the entrance, wispy limbs casting ghostly shadows across the pavement at your feet. You live here, and know there is only one entrance to the graveyard, although you’ve never explored it yourself.
There’s a new feeling in your gut, like an uncomfortable nagging. It’s heeding his warning, but you’re already here. The confirmation of your lover also being here comes when you sight the first shambler corpse- lifeless and effectively double-tapped between the eyes where it lays prone on the grass.
Your heart climbs higher into your throat the further onto the grounds you go, pounding a little harder inside the safety of your rib cage with every step. The second corpse lays next to the third, not ten feet past the first. The logical part of you finds some solace in this going exactly as you’d planned so far.
You move along as quietly and quickly as you can manage- being careful to step over graves and around broken headstones- recalling all of the things Changbin had taught you about the supernatural. Broken headstones bring bad luck and curses to those who touch them.
You think you’re somewhere in the center of the graveyard after you count the twelfth corpse, laying slumped beside the delicate gothic fencing around the singular mausoleum. It looks undisturbed, and you don’t hear any signs of Changbin from where you’re standing- leaning over the gate to listen closely.
Rather, your attention is called to the left, the faint lilting dialect to your boyfriend’s voice spitting a gruff complaint into the night. Through more willow trees, without pause you turn to find it.
You hear another sound, and find another corpse. A slight movement to your right has you stifling a shriek of terror as a shambler, missing the lower half of its body, drags itself slowly toward you- intent on your flesh.
Fast thinking has you pulling Changbin’s knife from it’s leather scabbard and stabbing the thing in the head with all the strength you can muster into both hands. The act in itself pulses adrenaline through you, and you stagger backwards until your rump hits the cold damp grass beneath you.
You want to throw up. It’s one thing for Changbin to tell you of all the gorish things he does, but another to feel the breaking of a skull and the fevered rotten brain beneath it squelch with the metal of a knife. To hear the sickening crush and to smell the rotten flesh of a shambler so close to you.
You want to find Changbin. He was right, he fucking warned you.
You stand on shaky legs, sure to have a look around you before dusting yourself off and walking toward the place you heard his voice.
Two more corpses and then, a ghoul corpse? The distinctive difference between shamblers and ghouls is that ghouls stick to one place, namely graveyards. They go in and out of their graves as they’re disturbed or left alone. Shamblers move on, endlessly wandering in droves.
The notion that this graveyard is so close to home and has even one ghoul sends ice into your veins, and you trip over something to the sound of soft earth rupturing registering in your mind.
Looking back, a sickly yellowed hand has caught your boot. It’s attached to an arm, and an unburied shoulder, neck, and head. The vacant blankness of a ghoul's eyes stare directly at you, full of empty hunger.
This time, the scream rips itself from your throat in a painful and dry cry. The sound only seems to further agitate the ghoul, working a little faster to unbury itself from the timeless slumber. Why now? Why are ghouls waking now?
Three graves back from the one
you’re caught at, the earth wobbles and moves. You’ve got to think fast. Kicking out, you shake your boot free of the grip from the first ghoul, and attempt to stand. You catch yourself, cursing at your own weak knees.
“Fucking get up!” you grunt quietly, scowling at your own legs and heaving for breath. You still have Changbin’s knife, and gripping the leather-bound hilt brings a sense of comfort. You can do this. You did it once already with a shambler. Well, half a shambler. You can do it with ghouls if you can reach them before they fully unbury themselves.
You surprise yourself, mustering up your bravery with a battle cry. You squeeze the familiar weight of Changbin’s knife in your hands and cram it into the skull of the ghoul immediately in front of you- careful to dodge the arm it swings towards your thighs.
It crumples forward with a frothing groan after wrenching the knife from its skull as you make for the second. You’re pulled to the ground with a curse as a third, directly behind the first, shoots one hand from the ground just in time to tangle its fingers in the laces of your boot.
It trips you forward, your tied-up hair flung over the back of your head. Within reach of the half-unburied ghoul you were going for. It takes the silky tresses between its bony fingers and pulls, hard. Harder than you thought a ghoul was capable of, and you scream again.
Maybe you can’t do this. What the fuck were you thinking? Following Changbin into a graveyard? He’s a fucking Monster Hunter. You’re a goddamned school teacher!
You consider the knife in your hand and commit to getting a haircut right then and there- intent on severing what’s in the ghoul’s deathly grip. A small price to pay if you can get away with your life.
Just as you grip the knife in one hand and your wrist in the other, it happens. There’s a sound of hair being cut, and your cheek falling back to the dirt again, followed by a thundering gunshot directly above you and the pained howl of a dying ghoul. But you didn’t…?
You whip your head up to see Changbin standing over you protectively, his crossbow in one hand and his shotgun in the other. He doesn’t say anything yet. Instead, he focuses on untangling your boot laces from the unmoving fingers of the undead at your feet.
Looking toward your hair, you see the limp bones of the other, your detached ponytail still clutched in its grasp.
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing you say. You know it’s not good enough, but Changbin still doesn’t respond.
With practiced ease, he places his weapons back where they belong before reaching forward and ripping the crossbow bolt from the protrusion of the ghoul’s head with more force than necessary. Then, he gets on his knees and helps you sit up, gently moving both of his hands around your body and inspecting you for damage. He checks your legs for any cuts or grazes, desperate to find you free of a lethal scratch.
He checks your face, grasping you as gently as his shaking hands can as he wipes the dirt and grass from your cheek and hair.
“I just wanted to return your knife. You left without it.” you start, realizing hot tears spill down your cheeks when your vision begins to blur with them. You squeeze your eyes shut, wiping at them with the back of your shaking hand before they open again to find your boyfriend’s eyes staring back at you with a look you’ve never seen before.
Anger. Terror. Relief. He wants to scream at you about how much danger you put yourself in, and about how scared he was when he knew exactly who’s scream that was just thirty seconds ago. Relief at seeing you unharmed.
“Changbin, I-” you try again, anxious at his lack of reply. But you’re cut off, lips sealed against his own as he claims you in a way only he knows how. His arms wrap around you possessively as he lifts you from the ground and peels his knife from your tight grip.
Standing with you flush against him, he keeps his lips on yours until you stop crying, and even then until he has to pull away for breath. His free hand cradles your head to his neck as he surveys the graveyard
for any further signs of movement. His pulse thumps loudly in your ear.
The only other sounds are that of your mixed breaths, and he leads you away from the corpses of the ghouls. To a patch of grass without any headstones or graves, nestled ten feet from the mausoleum.
“Sit,” he demands lowly, sharply as he idly flips his knife around in his hand. He wipes it with the bloodied cloth from his back pocket while you lower yourself to the ground with a questioning stare.
“I’m not done yet,” he quips.
A look of terror crosses your face when you think he means to leave you here while he finishes his job, but he smirks.
He leans forward, lowering himself to you and unbuckling your belt in one quick motion. He whips it from you and doesn’t bother handing it back as he slides the clasp of the scabbard from it. His knife is replaced safely and he undoes his own belt.
You think he’s done so to secure the weapon on himself, but his hand, clad in a fingerless glove, finds your chin. He brings you forward, kissing you again.
“I mean I’m not done with you, yet,” he says, dead serious.
You gawp at him, “Changbin we’re in the middle of a graveyard. What if another shambler or ghoul pops up?!” you whisper-scream at him, unbelieving that he’s making sexual jokes right now.
He leans back on his knees and undoes the clasp of his leather harness, removing it to safely set his weapons on the ground, followed by his favorite black leather jacket. He looks into the darkness around you, and his sharp eyes and jaw shouldn’t look this handsome in this situation. His warm musculature shouldn’t look this enticing here, nor should the way his black hair is swept up on one side. His plush lips and gruff tone shouldn’t be making you squeeze your thighs together in this place, and yet the slow oozing of arousal pools in your core at the prospect of committing to his dirty thoughts.
But he is here and protecting you and keeping you safe, even when, by all accounts, you could have died. He was there to save you. And that sets your cheeks ablaze more than anything.
Changbin smirks, and you’re done for, “They won’t. There were only eighteen shamblers. The ghouls were unexpected but they’ll stop now as long as you quit stepping all over their graves like an asshole.”
He kisses you again, rubbing his hands down your sides, “I can’t wait.”
His quiet whine and sudden need to take you seems out of place, “Hey, Changbin.”
He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, “Mm?”
You push off of him weakly, slowly succumbing to the warmth of his body so close to yours.
“Why are you so turned on right now? Do you have some kind of graveyard fetish you’ve failed to mention before?”
He grins against the skin of your neck, nipping the flesh there, “You want my honest answer?”
You deadpan, “It is graveyard fetish, I knew it.”
He lays down, pulling you beside him, “Shut up. No, it’s…” he looks away briefly, trying to hide his excitement, “Two things. First, I need to feel you around me right now to know you’re okay and unharmed. I just do.”
He kneads the dough of your ass through your jeans, squeezing what he can. The action has you pulling your knee up to his hip, intent on slotting against him.
“And two,” he bites, sliding his hand up to take the fullness of your breast in his palm through your sweater, “I saw you get a kill and it was really hot.”
He bites his lip and turns into his softer self for a moment to catch the end of your shortened strands of hair, “This looks good on you, too. Bravery looks good on you.”
His whisper makes your heart soar and a deep crimson creep to your cheeks at his praise, “I want to forget about it, honestly.”
Your boyfriend smirks again, and he raises a brow at the feel of your thigh flexing against his hip, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget everything except my name in a minute.”
He moves just then, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him by the back of your thigh. A surprised gasp dissipates into the night when you feel how hard he already is, even between your clothes. He hisses when you give a teasing
roll of your center against him.
Leaning down, you kiss him again, spreading your fingers wide across the expanse of his chest, then up to his face and into his hair. Changbin groans in reply to your gentle tugging on his roots, his hands never idle, set on running over every part of you and slipping beneath your sweater and pulling the cup of your bra down to feel your soft skin against his palm.
“S-stop moving,” he chokes out, releasing your breast and your lips to still your hips over his clothed erection. He sees the immediate panic cross your features before he soothes it back with a dark chuckle, “Nothing is there. I’m just gonna come in my pants if you keep that up.”
It’s your turn to smirk, happily getting off of him just to impatiently roll your palm up and over his crotch on your way to the button on his pants. His hands are twitching where they rest in midair, awaiting the return of your warmth to his lap, but his eyes are already well on their way to devouring you.
A quiet sigh of relief escapes him when you release the thickness of his cock from the confines of his clothes, springing free and leaking onto his abdomen. His sigh turns into a pleasured moan the moment you take him between your lips.
He doesn’t expect it, and his back bows while his head thuds to the ground softly, “F-fuck.”
“Do you really want me to come that fast?” he rasps, already panting into the crisp night. The chill doesn’t bother either of you, too aroused to be caught by the late autumn air.
You pop off of him with a wet sound that feels loud in the silence of the graveyard around you, but pay it no mind. “I just can’t help myself. You’re just... you’re handsome and heroic. You’re just you,” you babble, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.
Regardless, your words of praise stir something needy in him, and he wants to hear more. “What else?” he asks, quirking a brow at your stilled fist around the base of his cock.
A glare is shot at him, and you stuff him back into your cheek impatiently. Changbin tenses and doesn’t care enough to hide the whimper of pleasure that passes through his lips.
“You’re brave and strong, and smart,” you mumble, but he can hear it in the silence of the night. “And you keep me safe and warm.”
He moans, his hips bucking gently into the warm wetness of your mouth. You let him for a moment, before popping off and standing to remove your own clothing.
“And most of all, you love me.”
The man beneath you doesn’t miss a second, yanking you to the ground and his skin feels scorching where it touches you. Even the feel of his lips against your own feel like Dragonfire, fingers like flames dragging a path through your dripping folds, and he positively groans.
“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” he says, voice thick and broken.
He moves you, not to ride him, but to plant yourself on all fours. Moving behind you, Changbin leans over you and whips his black tee over his head, and you stifle a delighted whimper at the sight of him like this when you strain your neck to look back. You love his manliness. Thick and sturdy bands of muscle cover him, and just enough healthy dough covers it- to leave him in a state of muscled softness you’re always ogling.
He shoves his trousers down mid-thigh, looking like sin incarnate, and you’re desperate to have him fill you. “I want every pile of bones here to be rolling in their graves to the sound of your moans,” he snarls, giving your ass a firm squeeze- shaking the flesh of your cheek.
The vulgarity of his words earns a weak moan in response. Changbin is usually so respectful of the dead, but he is too keyed up to care right now.
One long mewl into the darkness like a bitch in heat is the first loud sound to grace the night as he stretches you slowly, fully, until he is seated firmly and completely with his hips against your ass.
You only need a moment to adjust before you’re pushing back into him, and his pace is immediately hard and deep. You love it this way, and the thrill of being outside in an entirely public space is surely a factor in your shared arousal.
It’s not the first time you’ve had sex outside. Not the first time your blood has pumped a little harder at the idea of getting caught.
Above you, Changbin is panting, his grip on your hips is bruising. “This is your punishment,” he says through his teeth, snapping his hips forward at a brutal pace while a hand comes down to press your shoulder into his jacket on the ground.
You whine loudly, bringing your own fingers to your clit, swirling them around the bud quickly to catch a ride on the clouds he’s clearly trying to send you to. It takes little effort to have you buckling under him completely, fueled by the lewd slapping of skin on skin and your breathy moans desecrating the sacredness of these grounds.
You shatter with a cry of Changbin’s name, blissful tears brimming the corners of your eyes. Changbin grunts, shoving himself past the crushing grip of your walls four more times before he stills in you with a choked moan.
The feeling of his thickness stiffening and warmth spreads deeply into you. Utter content fills your veins with cotton candy fluff as you relax your tired limbs down against Changbin’s jacket beneath you, uncaring about the cold earth that meets your sweat-slicked skin.
Changbin huffs, falling to his back beside you, warm arms immediately finding your waist to hold you closer.
“Thank you,” you whisper into his neck, kissing the damp skin over his pulse. The meaning of your thanks isn’t lost on him, and he smiles.
“Is now a good time to tell you about that graveyard fetish of mine?” he asks, and you laugh, slapping a palm to his chest.
He laughs with you, petting your hair and adjusting to the sudden shortness of it, just brushing your shoulders. He waits a moment, searching your eyes for something, “I love you.”
You return his sentiment, hiding your face in his neck.
“I’ve decided you can keep my knife,” he says then, quietly, without meeting your stare. “It may come in handy if you ever need to protect yourself, and it would be nice to feel like I’m still protecting you if you use something that’s mine.”
And that is how the story of the Monster Hunter couple began.
P.S: Most of the works below contain mature themes so please, if you are under 18 years old, dni. If you feel uncomfortable, dni also. Thank you!
author’s note ⟹ i love this metaphor and omg this song is so romannnntiiccc. halley’s comet supremacy. it really feels like a song changbin could have written tbh, we all know he’s as hopeless as we are. part of the “i want to drown in your lips” series.
listen to ⟹ Halley’s Comet by billie eilish
You’d never noticed how loud airports were before. It made sense – of course they would be – what with all the activity and the running around. But when you’ve got to catch a plane, you rarely worry about the atmosphere.
You weren’t the one flying today, and that left you with plenty of time to take in the bustling of the suitcases and the airplanes landing and taking off. Changbin was asleep in your lap, and you had time to take him in, too. Anything to forget that a part of you would be flying away with him.
The boarding would begin soon. It was time to wake him up and say your goodbyes. You were desperately hoping that it wouldn’t be for good. He wasn’t gone yet, but already, the air felt harsher, crisper, as if he had been a comet only passing by. He was taking all his warmth away, and leaving you in a cold, brutal winter. He’d told you many times that this wasn’t the end, that he didn’t want it to be. He’d told you many times that in every dream he had, he saw you. Still, it all felt so… final. And you couldn’t help but think that you were holding him back.
The love you had for him was like loving a comet. He was just as bright, just as awe-inspiring. When it came to his life, his art, he was burning, powerful and proud. But the rays he shone on you were oh so gentle, tender in the way a shooting star shines as it flies close to the earth, giving hope and leading the way. Changbin had ambitions, and so did you. Only, he was flying to the other side of the ocean. Only, he was leading the way.
You didn’t want to break up, but you weren’t sure if you could handle long distance. A comet never stays, and it would be foolish to cling to it, for you’d certainly burn trying. But watching him leave was just as painful.
Still, somehow, you felt… content. Not happy, but happy enough. Changbin was finally on his way to make his dreams a reality. You were happy for him, and happy for yourself too. You could chase your aspirations the same way he did, inspired by his tireless struggles to reach the top. All with the knowledge that Changbin loved you, and that you loved him.
The moments you’d shared with him had been wonderful. In the end, you realized that it didn’t matter if there was an ocean between you, or a galaxy. You would find your way back to each other. There was no doubting it.
Changbin woke up just as the attendant called for the passengers to begin boarding. You both stood, staring at each other without saying a word. It was then that you realized, he wasn’t gone. The cold you were feeling wasn’t your sun, your bright shining star speeding away and leaving you behind. No, that cold was a biting, invigorating wind accompanying you as you flew through the sky, a wind of two lovers taking flight.
You didn’t speak, and he didn’t either. He simply leaned forward and let his lips fall on yours, his hands cupping your cheeks. There was no need for words, not when his kiss conveyed such certainty and such faith. You would see each other again, and he knew it too.
You watched him fly away, heart full of the confidence that you would pass by each other again, shining brighter than you did before.
m’s note; my page is an open and safe space for all <3 please don’t feel shy asking for requests or just talking to me on my page about whatever is on your mind. all are welcome to read and follow, but please 18+ for talking sexually with me (as i am born in 01) but if anyone just needs someone to speak to or has questions please don’t be shy to ask.i encourage sending me how you’re feeling and your thoughts, especially on my writings.