#diverseinsertsknet

“Yeah, cause you’re too busy being a dick to everyone!” you quip at him, eyes flaring. “Eric, we gave you this position because we wanted to show you we’re still taking the competition seriously and that we still value your opinion and trust in your leadership, not for you to walk all over us and push us too hard because you’re still salty that we fucked the guys making you insecure! Get over yourself! If you want to take this stage sooo seriously, maybe take into consideration the physical state of your team! We’re all about to collapse!”

“For someone who trusts in my leadership, you sure aren’t following it all that well,” he grumbles in response, rewinding the track. “One more time, just you. Or do they not train you hard enough at the Prism?”

You roll your eyes at the fucking audacity, because that is not even remotely the same and he knows it. “No, because they’re more concerned about our sex appeal than our pole technique, Wooyoung and I train ourselves to have fun — you should try it sometime!”

He doesn’t grace that with a response, turning the song on again, and you decide to cooperate only to throw all your remaining energy into the routine, making it as extra as you can muster — facial expressions, powerful moves, dramatically thrusting your whole body into it like it was the actual stage, so there’d be absolutely no way Eric could nitpick on you any more.

Or so you thought.

“You overdid it.”

“Get fucked, Eric!”

You straight up scream in his face, pushed far past your limit and sick of his shit. You have been trying so hard for him. All for him. You made sure he was okay with it before even signing up for the competition, you trained him in pole and choreographed him a role routine and night at your job just so he could impress them, you fucked his ex with him just so he could prove a point, you got thrown over a table for it and continued defending his honour and all you get in repayment is him being a total asswipe because he can’t handle what you do with your spare time.

“Are you fucking serious right now—“

“Alright, enough!” Sunwoo bellows, loud enough to make poor San flinch, stepping between you and grabbing each of you by the collar. “Either make out and make up, or fuck off till you calm down. I’ve just about had it with all the arguing and bossing around. We’re all taking a break and I am not taking no for an answer!”

Sunwoo is the type to get fired up just as easily as Eric is, if not more, so you all know how to handle him when he gets set off; but there’s something different this time. His tone cements the decision as final, and Eric must feel it too because he finally stops arguing and storms off.

The rest of you watch him leave, and as soon as he’s out the door, you all slump in relief to the floor. It’s done. Day one of Eric’s Nightmare Bootcamp is finally done.

“Fucking finally,” Sunwoo mutters, lying still for a moment before being the first to get up and start collecting his things. “My entire body aches. Apparently this place has hot springs? I think I’ll go check them out.”

“I’m way too hot and sweaty for that,” you sigh as the others start getting up to join him, “Lowkey tempted to take an ice bath instead. Or go chill in the lake, or something.”

“I’ll join you,” San pipes up, hanging the sweaty towel he was using to wipe his face around the back of his neck. “The lake sounds great right now.”

Sunwoo shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

It was Eric’ idea to put the camp in boot camp, bringing up his extended family's holiday house in the woods that only ever gets used twice a year. It’s a ridiculous waste of money and housing as far as any of you are concerned, but  at least Eric was smart enough to mould himself a spare key before he went no-contact with them. Granted, he then immediately lost said key while moving apartments, but as soon as you brought up the idea of a boot camp he turned the whole damn apartment upside down searching for it, only to realise it had been hot-glued to his battle jacket this whole time as a decoration along with other spare keys you had gathered for diy purposes.

The place is nice, awfully scenic – not quite mountainous, but hilly enough for the cliff the lodge is on to make for a gorgeous view overlooking the lake, estuary and ocean — secluded, and cosy. Now that Eric actually has a key to the place, next time you come here you hope it’s on calmer terms, with more time to check out all the hike trails and rock pools by the beach, but for today, aimlessly floating in a lake to sooth your sore muscles sounds perfectly ideal.

San’s bare ass is a pretty welcome sight, too.

“A cheeky skinny dip, huh?” you muse aloud, “Have fun getting whatever bacteria this lake has to offer, I’m keeping my jocks on.”

“Oh please, like that’d help that much.”

“It literally would though, that’s a whole additional barrier!”

“It’s still gonna soak through though, so if it’s in the water, you’re fucked.”

“Is that why you want me naked so bad? So I can be fucked?” you tease, wading into the water with him – still slightly warm from the daylight, but no doubt quickly cooling with the setting of the sun in the horizon.

San shrugs cheekily, submerged up to his shoulders in the murky depths, ducking under the water to drench himself entirely then dramatically flip his hair back upon breaching the surface. “Maybe.”

“Horny bastard,” you huff, splashing him in the face and making him cough and splutter, only for him to splash you back twice as hard. “Pffuah— stop, stop! I’ll stop, I’m too tired for a splash fight.”

“Okay, okay,” San hums, relenting his assault to come up behind you and wrap his arms around you instead. You sigh and lean into his gentle embrace. “I was joking, anyway. I’m way too tired and sore to be doing any fucking right now.”

So are you. The more you think about it, the less the thought of getting it on seemed appealing, the ache in your muscles dragging you down like lead. The cold water was nice, though, and the reprieve of San’s warm body amongst it even nicer, so you just stay there for a whole, tucked under his chin and listening to the steady beating of his heart.

It’s exactly what you needed after such a long day. Probably what San needed too, if the way he sighs in relief into your hair is any indicator, then presses a kiss atop your head. “This is kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“Romantic?” His tone is playful, but the conversation you had with Sunwoo still lingers on your mind. You find yourself at a loss for words. “What about it?”

San leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder and press a kiss there, invoking a shiver. It has little to do with the temperature. “The scenery, for one. This lake is beautiful. The sunset. Holding you like this. Is it not nice?”

You blink twice, trying to process what this man is saying to you. Does he mean romantic as in nice? An interesting choice of wording, that’s for sure – but maybe you’re overthinking it. You’re probably overthinking it. You’re definitely overthinking it. Had Sunwoo not said anything, you probably wouldn’t have thought twice about him saying that. Saying it so seriously, even. Though the initial question did sound like a bit of a joke, so he’s probably joking. Or something.

“No?”

You snap out of your thoughts to reply to him. “No, it is nice— it’s really nice. Just what I needed after all of... y’know.”

“After all of Eric’s bullshit?” he suggests helpfully, and you don’t need to see his little cat-like grin to know it’s there.

“You said it, not me.”

He laughs, placing his hands on your shoulders and twisting you around to face him. You don’t know how he manages to smile so blindingly after the hell he has been through today, especially as one of the few band members who had no background dancing, but he gave it his all. You admire that about him, how he’s so hard-working and so soft-hearted but in a way that he needs to be tough to be; the fact that he always remains soft under the pressure of the world trying to harden him, is toughness in its own right. A fuzzy feeling sprouts in your chest, such deep fondness, and it’s enough to ease a bit of the lingering tension. He leans in for a kiss, not quite a quick peck but nothing deeper; just a kiss for the sake of a kiss, one that lingers, then he pulls you back into his arms and pushes your face into his neck.

San’s always been like this, so it really shouldn’t be as flustering as it is. After all, he’s the reason your band started being as touchy with each other as they are now – from kissing the homies goodnight. He’s just overly affectionate like that. Has his heart always beat this fast when you did, though?

Has yours?

You wonder if he can hear it.

You think about how easy it would be to tell him you love him right now. The words could just roll off your tongue; I love you. Things wouldn’t have to change. San would probably just be happy to hear it, say it back, and kiss you breathless. Yet, something about that thought makes your words get caught in your throat. It would be so simple. Too simple, even, because what would he mean, when he says it back? What would you mean?

“Do you want us to be more than friends?”

San’s skin feels even hotter to touch, or maybe that’s just you. He quirks a brow at you when you pull away from him, lips drawn into a slight pout, and it makes you feel like eating sandpaper, so you pull him back in and bury your face in his broad chest once more. You have always been weak for San’s pout, even if you’re the one making him do it on purpose because it’s just so cute. You know Wooyoung does it for the same reason, he’s said so, and you never miss the way his eyes crinkle with glee when it works. For Wooyoung, bothering his loved ones is his life’s greatest joy, and there’s nothing quite like the glow of a man in his element. You can picture him smiling at San like that right now, calling him a baby and calling you whipped.

“Do you want to date us? Be romantic with us, tell us those three words you’ve been too scared to say for too long, take us on dates that are explicitly dates, call us yours? Is that what you want?”

You kiss him, and nothing more, over and over again, until you finally stop thinking. He picks you up for your legs to wrap around his waist, weight supported by the water around you. He doesn’t ask questions nor complain, only pulling you in closer, and when you feel him harden against you, there’s no pressure to address it.

When that only makes each kiss feel even more intimate somehow, it starts to dawn on the edges of your mind that you may be well and truly fucked.

After three days of more torture, you have just about reached your limit. You thought Eric would have calmed down after the initial fight, but it seemed to instead just put him on edge the whole time – you and the others quickly realise he is not about to pull that stick out of his ass until you get that win against Stray Kids, and if the next round is still in another three days, then to hell with all of you in the meantime.

Usually, you would just fuck it out. Shockingly, having an outlet for all the pent-up frustration does wonders for trying to sort out problems, but you can tell it’s different this time; even if Eric did let you sleep with him, you aren’t entirely sure he would calm down completely. Still, selfishly enough, you could do with it for the release on your end, as your other physical outlet being dance is no longer cathartic when it’s the cause of half your frustration.

At this point you would have just grabbed one of the other members after practice, but morale is at an all-time low and everyone just seems tired. Eric has always been the energizer of the group, and you realise just how much you all relied on him now that he’s no longer filling that role. Even Wooyoung and Sunwoo’s attempts at joking around and lightening the mood have been falling a little flat, and you can see the toll it’s taking on them too. Tension lingers in the air even when you are not fighting, and as nice as the view of the Sohn’s lakeview lodge is, all you’ve wanted to do since you’ve arrived is get out.

The reception isn’t the best out in the woods, so you find yourself climbing one of the tall, sturdy trees by the lodge to see who you can call. Not necessarily for a booty call, maybe sort of a booty call, but more importantly just someone to talk to who isn’t your band; though you quickly realise how few people you actually talk to outside of your band. Most are friends or acquaintances from within the industry, and the last thing you need right now is to spread gossip about your own band to the event organisers, or worse, your competitors – but as you scroll through your messages, something about the latter sticks out to you.

You call Lino.

The idea is not your best one, you have to admit, but you’re definitely intrigued to find out what kind of metaphorical ditch you will wind up waking up in by doing this. Your last interactions with Lino made it very clear the way he operates – it’s a trade-off. He is not beyond gossiping about his own team, so if you pry well enough, you can get something juicy – the caveat being, he remembers everything you say as well, and will use it against you. Which only makes this idea even worse the more you think about it, since it would not take much for him to smell blood in the water and something like a fight among your band would be far too easy to prey on, but you already pressed call.

You are not exactly known for your good life decisions.

“Hello?”

The voice that picks up is already a lot warmer and richer than Lino’s light and airy voice, which raises every alarm all at once, but it’s definitely not a recognisable enough voice to match a face to. One of the other lost kids, that much you can tell, but that’s it.

“He…llo? This isn’t Lino.”

A laugh filters through the receiver. “No, it’s not. I stole his phone and he still hasn’t noticed yet.”

Whoever this is, you like him already, you decide. That’s the kind of mischief you can get behind.

“Wow. And who might this be? Another stray kid?”

A tongue click. “That’s right. Makes me wonder why my beloved hyung is getting a call from the enemy.”

The reference to you as an enemy has you not knowing how to feel about it. The same term has left your lips about them on more than one occasion, but perhaps part of you has always been aware of how one-sided your feud with them really is, though, you suppose with your tendency to meddle and pick fights, that’s been quickly fixing itself. You can acknowledge you have been creating drama, but to hell with it, you think. You’ve meant every damn word you’ve said this whole time.

“Heh. Well that’s for me to know and you to wonder, hmm? What makes you think I’d tell you? I don’t even know who you are.”

You hear the ping of him turning his camera on, and pull your phone back from your ear to see a familiar enough face staring back at you. Now the fact that you didn’t recognise him from his voice alone is almost embarrassing – that rich baritone carries their songs, and you’ve done enough internet stalking all of them to know the rest by face now.

“Ah. You’re Seungmin, right?” You switch on your own camera and fix your hair in a way you hope seems nonchalant, but you know it’s a poor attempt to hide the absolute wreck you must look like right now, covered in sweat and hair sticking out in every which direction. “I don’t think we’ve ever actually talked.”

“No, you’ve been a bit too busy digging into my bandmates– are you in a fucking tree?”

You instinctively glance behind you, as if not expecting a tree to be there, when you are, in fact, quite literally, sitting in a tree. The movement is so fast you wobble a bit on the branch you perched on, but it holds steady, and you regain your balance quick enough.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m in a tree. Long story.”

“I got time.” Seungmin’s expression remains unreadable as he pulls the strings of his hoodie and flops backward onto presumably his bed, possibly Lino’s or god knows who else’s, and gets comfortable. “Why you in a tree?”

“Why do you care? I called Lino, not you.”

He rolls his eyes, then flicks the phone camera loud enough to make an audible thwack as if he just flicked your forehead. “No shit you called Lino, this is his phone. But I’m bored, a little nosy, and a shockingly good listener, so I’ve been told, so indulge me a little. If you’re not going to tell me why you called Lino, at least tell me why you’re in a tree, I’m curious now.”

“You’re more interested as to why I’m in a tree than to why I called Lino?”

“Mmm, maybe equally as interested. I just figure you wouldn’t tell me why you called Lino even if I did pry, but I’m gonna just assume it’s a booty call.”

You snort. He’s a little more right than you want him to be, but you don’t know if you want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that yet.

“Well, the short version is that the reception out here is dogshit, so I climbed a tree.” You flip the camera and show him how high up you are, and nearly drop the damn thing however many feet below to a tragic death among the pinecones.

“Woah, nice view!” You flip the camera back around to your face to grin a little smugly. “Surely you don’t live out there in the woods, do you?”

“Ah, no, just out here for, uh… boot camp. Decided we needed to start taking practice more seriously since we have some actual competition this year, so we took the week off work and fucked off to one of the guys’ holiday homes.” You deliberately leave out the part where it’s kind of sort of technically trespassing, despite how curious you are to hear his reaction to it. “Hence. Tree.”

Seungmin nods along, cutely playing with the hoodie drawstrings and pulling them up past his chin with the hand not holding his phone. You’d think he was on FaceTime with someone a lot closer than a near stranger, but you suppose his cute charms just come naturally to him. “Damn, respect. We’ve more or less been doing the same this whole time, but more of us are unemployed than not, so, at least we don’t need to worry too much about taking time off work. Well, in Innie and I’s cases it’s taking time off classes, but, he barely shows up to classes anymore anyway.”

“Y’all studying?” Now that you think about it, you don’t know much about the group’s personal lives beyond Felix and Chan – Felix, obviously from knowing him through Eric since he was still doing his tattoo apprenticeship, and Chan’s digital presence informed you he did music full-time, selling the beats he doesn’t use himself. You remember their friend Jisung being a DJ at parties, and saw him doing music online as well, Changbin too but with less of a presence – but none of them were big enough to explain the ridiculous budget Stray Kids stages have been having. Either the few employed members are raking in dough, or someone comes from money, and you bet your meagre savings on the latter.

“Yeah, I’m studying music, vocals mostly. Also composing, music industry, music history, photography and videography, and Japanese as an elective ‘cause it’s fun.”

“Jesus,” you exhale, “That’s… a lot.”

He chuckles, pulling his hoodie back down to hide his face less. Even in its entirety, you can’t read any of it. “Yeah, it’s good fun.”

You expect him to elaborate on that more, but he doesn’t, making you crinkle your nose. “What about the others? You all students or?”

Seungmin shakes his head. “Nah, just me and Innie, he’s also studying music performance. The rachas – our production line, that is, Chan, Changbin, and Hannie – they all do music pretty much full-time, except Changbin who is also a part-timer at a gym. Personal trainer. Lino’s a viral sensation on YouTube for making cat videos, it’s shockingly enough to pay rent. I’m sure you already know what Lix does, and Hyunjin, well, apparently you know about that too.”

You snicker. “Funnily enough, we found out that one completely on accident.”

“You’d have had to,” Seungmin says slowly with a knowing grin, “We make sure to keep those profiles completely separate.”

Whatever other sentences your mind tried to come up with quickly fizzle out as you process his choice of wording.

“We?”

He laughs, light and melodic, and his face shines with such cutesy innocence you are shocked to hear him allude to engaging in creating such content. “Yeah, we. How do you think he sets up the camera and everything while tied up like that?”

Your eyebrows shoot up at the realisation that Seungmin was the rigger from the one stream you caught, and remembering how intricate the ropework was, you find a sudden deep respect for him blooming as a craftsman.

“Wait, you’re his rigger?”

“I’m his boyfriend, but yeah, his rigger too. So, sorry if I piss you off at the competition and you can’t suck my dick about it, it’s a real tragedy.”

He practically just handed you a formal invitation to think about his dick, so you rip it out of his hands with a sly smirk. “Aw, why not? That’s never stopped Mingi or Wooyoung. You could tie me up all pretty, too.”

Not that it’s a particularly good idea to let a practical stranger tie you up in a full-body rope harness, but you don’t expect him to actually get to that point, more so just teasing the idea. While you definitely expected some sort of reaction, the quirk of his brow and beat of silence is certainly more than you bargained for.

“Y’know, I’m starting to wonder if at this point you just want the whole band as notches on your belt.”

Were you anyone else, that might have even stung, but you shrug it off in earnest.

“Maybe I do. But truthfully, it’s like, ninety-percent more to do with the fact that each and every one of you are smoking hot. Like, I may be cocky and hypersexual, but even I have standards, and you all more than exceed them, so sue me for shooting my shot.”

His eyes widen slightly at that, and you wonder if he doesn’t get told how good looking he is that often. Granted, his face is a lot softer and sweeter compared to the more visually striking faces of his bandmates, but he’s still incredibly handsome by every means of the word. The likelihood of your assumption quickly decreases when he follows it up.

“I can respect that. I am quite a catch, aren’t I?”

You snort, not prepared for his response. “Yeah, I’d say so. So, if you and your prettyboy boyfriend are ever looking to spice things up, feel free to call. On or off camera.”

“Damn, you’re bold.” He chuckles again in what seems to be mild disbelief, to which, he really should have known better, but you suppose you can let it slide on the account that he’s never interacted with you personally until now. “I’ve haven’t had that conversation with him yet, but don’t get your hopes up. He’s quite the possessive type.”

The dopey smile and fond tilt of his head when he says that tells you that he doesn’t really mind that one bit.

“Aw, shame. I was already thinking about all the fun we could get up to together!”

It’s not as sarcastic as you make it sound with your sing-song tone; having already wanted to give Hyunjin hell since that first stream, and almost but not quite regrettably, more after, the thought of teaming up with someone as seemingly sly as Seungmin, to do a number on him was beyond appealing, but you suppose you can’t always win them all. It’s only then what a relevant thought hits you.

“Wait, but what about him and San?”

“Ah.” He at least doesn’t seem surprised to hear about it, so you’re glad you at least didn’t just throw San under the bus with that one. “Hence the yet on the conversation. I don’t know. We were all arguing, tensions were high, he and San grabbed each other by the shirt, he looked at me before he kissed San and right after, too. It felt like he was asking for permission, so I just… I don’t know. It’s not something I’d really thought much about till then, but I was curious. I can’t say it felt right, but I kind of just wanted to watch and see what happened anyway? I probably should have said something to stop them, but I just shrugged and nodded at him, let him decide if he wants to do that. Think I was angrier about it than I thought I was, but with everything going on I couldn’t really isolate that feeling yet. So I just kept arguing.”

At the mention of all the arguing, you’re coldly reminded that the very man you are talking to, probably said some really nasty things about you and the people you care most about, but you shove that aside for now. As aggressive as you tend to be, the long week prior just has you tired of arguing with just about fucking everyone, and you don’t know if you like that that says about you.

As if the situation between the bands couldn’t get any messier, yet more relationships get tangled in the web of drama. You always wonder why people cling so hard to the concept of monogamy when another alternative presents itself, but you suppose it’s easier to avoid the work it takes to communicate with people that much when you can just expect someone to avoid making you feel bad by default. At least this time you aren’t the one at the centre of it, but either way you can’t take all the blame when it takes two to tango in the first place.

“Oh jeez, that’s messy. And you haven’t talked about it at all? It’s been days, dude, why not?”

“Why do you care?” he huffs with a laugh, dryly throwing your own words back at you.

“I’m bored, nosy, and a shockingly good listener,” you retort right back at him. “Indulge me a little, sticking my nose into other people’s drama is a great distraction from my own. Plus, an outsider’s perspective might even be useful, who knows?”

Seungmin’s lips flatten into a line, staring up at the ceiling past the camera and debating it internally before rolling onto his side with a sigh. He looks so cozy, wrapped up in his hoodie and now snuggled up to a big fluffy pillow he rests on, his other hand propping up his phone to give you the perspective of two close friends talking at a sleepover, and not rival strangers, just one of which sitting atop a random ass tree.

“I feel like I’ll regret this, but, well, suppose you’re the only one I can talk to who doesn’t know either of us well enough to be biased, so… sure. Though there’s not much to be biased about actually. I don’t think. Basically he just… I thought he was gonna talk about it afterward, but instead he just ended up getting noticeably more possessive… like, needs to be clinging to me at all times, glaring at everyone else who tries, referring to me as his boyfriend more than usual. I’m not sure what’s up with that, since he’s the one who slept with San, but we’ve been too busy and stressed with practice to really have a chance to talk about it yet.”

“Ah.” You nod along, figuring that they must be taking the competition just as serious as your band is to come up with such show-stopping stages, so you relate to the stress that would probably make it a bad time to have such a conversation. “That’s rough. How do you feel about it all, though?”

Seungmin has to stop and think about it for a moment, shoving his face deeper into his fluffy pillow and looking down at the sheets instead of his phone screen. “I… I think I’m more upset that he’s acting so strangely about it than the fact that he did it in the first place. Makes it look like he feels guilty about doing it and is tryna be extra possessive to make up for it, or something, which… means he must’ve felt like he was doing something wrong when he did it. I don’t think it’s technically cheating, because he did pause to check in with me and he wasn’t trying to hide anything, but… we probably should’ve actually talked about it first.”

“Yeah, you can say that part again,” you huff. “Shockingly, sitting down and talking about your issues tends to solve them. Most of the time.”

He seems to be able to read through your tight-lipped expression, looking back up at the camera again.

“Something tells me the drama you’re distracting yourself from with mine, wasn’t solved that easily.”

“Yeah, well.” You pause, trying to think of how much you would be willing to share with the other team, considering you have no idea if Seungmin is the type to run his mouth or not. “It… yeah. Not that easy this time, unfortunately. Our plan B – or, plan A, sometimes, honestly – is usually to just. Fuck out all our emotions then talk about it calmly. But this time the hurt person decided to revoke that, well, technically he said he wouldn’t bottom for us anymore so maybe that still is on the table, but it just feels different. I don’t think he wants to go about it like that this time, and our other attempt didn’t work either and just made us even more tired and wired and I’m reaching my limit with these guys. Probably would do me some good to take a drive back into town, but I’m not sure what I’d do there. Work a shift at the Prism, maybe try go home with a stranger? I dunno. I’m not as keen on hooking up with strangers anymore, they don’t always like the same things I like and usually aren’t as down to sit down and talk about it beforehand so its just mid. But my other physical outlet has always been dancing, which, is all I’ve been doing lately and half of why I’m so frustrated.”

He nods along much like you did, humming at certain points to indicate his attention. “Right. So you just want an outlet for all that frustration, huh?”

“Basically. Or maybe just a break. Who knows.”

“I like boxing as an outlet,” he suggests helpfully, “Helps to print out the face of whoever you’re pissed at on a punching bag.”

“Ooh, that sounds good,” you hum, already thinking of which photo of Eric you should print out. You aren’t sure if Seungmin is extending an invitation or not, but either way it’s a good suggestion. You decide to throw out a line, just in case, and see what he does. “Doesn’t punching something over and over get kinda boring, though? Suppose that’s what you get a sparring partner for though.”

“Does fucking someone over and over get boring?” He asks cheekily, and you certainly were not ready for that response, so you splutter.

“Does- no, of course it doesn’t get boring. Not when your partners are hot and good at what they’re doing and – lets just say, we spice things up enough to keep things exciting.”

“Like what, jacking off to Hyunjin’s streams?”

“I guess, yeah. Among more exciting things. You’re not the only rigger around, y’know.”

Seungmin smiles and runs a hand through his hair, exposing his forehead more, which frames his features a lot differently; you start to get a glimpse of what you think Hyunjin sees before his streams in the was he grins so deviously at you. “Are you trying to one-up me?”

“In what, being a kinky freak?” you snort, not really seeing how even this is meant to be a competition, even if it did, admittedly, kind of feel like it. Just talking to any of the Stray Kids at all seems to draw out your competitive streak. “I mean, I reckon I’d have a fair run at topping it, but I’m not gonna pretend I’m the kinkiest degenerate in town. That’s Wooyoung for sure.”

He laughs and it’s shockingly melodic, which is a little unfair to all the people who laugh like they’re dying. “Really? Now that’s be interesting, who has the more questionable Pornhub search history, Wooyoung or Hannie…”

“Wow, way to rat out your own,” you chuckle, and you find yourself really enjoying your interactions with this Seungmin guy. He seems pretty alright so far. “Found him stumbling out of my apartment last week when I got home after the last round. Sunwoo sure did a number on him.”

“Yup, and he hasn’t shut up about it since,” Seungmin drawls with what seems like a rather fond eyeroll. “I think he saw God that night. Changbin is pissed about it. Thinks he’s stooping too low, or something. I wonder what he’ll think about you and Chan?”

Static sounds play in your brain until you can catch up with him. “He doesn’t know about me and Chan? You know about me and Chan?”

“Uh, yeah, genius, you were both at each other’s throats last we saw you and then you were both gone. Not rocket science. Chan isn’t blabbing, if that’s what you’re worried about. Though I kind of wish he would. How was it? I hear he’s a real romantic, but I have my bets on him being quite the tease.”

“You spend this much time thinking about what your homies are like in bed?”

The no-hesitation response sends Seungmin’s eyebrows shooting upward for a split-second, and a slightly twisted sense of satisfaction fills you at being the one to have a gotcha moment with that one, rather than being on the other end. You don’t like the realisation that more than one person has tried to call you out for that. You try not to think about it.

“Just… curious, I guess. It just comes up in conversation sometimes! It’s not that weird. You can tell me. I’m sure I can nag it out of him later, anyway.”

“Last time I shared anything juicy with a stray kid, he used it against me,” you hum, sounding less hurt and more amused at whatever he’s playing at. “Surely I get something just as interesting in return, as a guarantee, of sorts?”

Seungmin thinks about it, stroking his chin through a comically big sweater paw. “Not sure what kind of dirt I could give you. My boyfriend’s cock and hole is on the internet for everyone to see, you can gage a pretty good guess of what we get up to behind the screen based on what he does on the screen. I don’t really have much to hide.”

“Dirt on the others, then? You mentioned Han’s search history…”

“Ah, our Jisungie,” Seungmin coos, a smile taking over his face again at the mention of his bandmate. “Suppose I could throw him under the bus a little more. I think he’d like it if I did, honestly. Humiliation kink n’all that. Not that he’d admit it. But he doesn’t have to, it’s written all over him and the guys he likes. Hell, the girls too. If you teased him about it, it’d probably make his dick hard.”

“Really now? Oh, now that is so enticing… how bad is he gonna kill you for that one?”

“Really bad,” Seungmin chortles, muffling his laugh behind his sweater paw. “He gets worked up pretty easily, but cools down just as quick, only to fire up again as soon as you prod him. We used to fight a lot, when the band first got together, but I think we’re past that now. Since meeting you guys, though, it’s like his diss track era all over again… it’s been fun how angry he’s gotten over it all, and now he’s just angry at how good Sunwoo was in bed. It’s so cute. Seeing him get all competitive is also cute. He gets flustered easily, but then he’s surprisingly witty. Cocky, too. Haven’t seen that side of him offstage since he was still beefing with Hyunjin.”

He clearly has no idea how much material he is giving you to work with, probably thinking the humiliation kink was the meat of the information, but you absolutely soak up the details on how this man reacts to things. You won’t be caught off guard, not by him or anyone else on that team, and you are increasingly confident that the next round will absolutely rip them a new one.

“Is that so… alright, I’ll bite. Chan… is a lot crueller than he seems. But I can see how he’d be the romantic type in any other situation… I think I bring out his mean side, though. It’s pretty fun,” you muse, to avoid saying it’s pretty hot instead. “He’s very… patient. Frustratingly so. Not as much of a pushover as I thought he’d be.”

“You’re being awfully vague on purpose,” Seungmin points out blankly, “so I’m going to assume it was hot as fuck and he fucked you so good you’re ashamed to admit it.”

You really don’t like how fucking perceptive he is, you decide.

“Well, I’d definitely go with him another round.” You try to sound nonchalant as you shrug and act unbothered, because if your assumptions are right, he will go running to Chan as soon as you hang up the phone. “Next time though, it’ll be at my place on my terms. We’ll see how long he lasts.”

You hear the filtered sound of the door opening, and Seungmin stiffens, but grins. “I’ve heard all I need to hear. Lino just got home though, so I gotta dip– DM me if you wanna spar sometime. I think it’ll be fun to punch you.”

“Hey!”

He hangs up, and you’re left sitting in a tree with more questions than you have answers for. Your body aches as you make your way down the tree to head back for dinner, then practice, then sleep, then even more practice, and you wonder if you’ll have time to drive back into the city to try boxing somewhere in between. Probably not.

You get the feeling this won’t be the last of your interactions with Seungmin regardless.

Arms wrap around your waist from behind, suddenly finding yourself pressed back against someone’s firm chest. You look down at his hands, listen for the scuffles of the others’ feet on the dance floor of the practice room and voices talking, then chuck out a guess without turning to look at the mirror.

“Sunwoo?”

“Gotcha.” He pulls you back, out of the room into the sunlight and the refreshingly cool breeze of the woods. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you. We literally live together!”

“Yeah, that makes it really fucking easy to tell when someone’s avoiding you.”

Have you been avoiding him? It definitely has not been a conscious attempt to do so, but you suppose the urge to avoid his intense gaze has probably resulted in you avoiding him somewhat altogether. You aren’t sure what to tell him.

“I haven’t been trying to avoid you,” you mumble, slumping back into his embrace so he has to practically hold your entire body weight, leaning back on the outside wall of the rec room. “But I guess I’ve been doing it unintentionally. I’m sorry. I’ll stop now.”

“It’s okay,” Sunwoo hums, resting his chin on your head. “You gonna tell me why, or nah?”

“I think you know why,” you mutter, glad for how he holds you from behind so you can stare out at the scenery around you rather than have to meet his eye.

“Humour me.”

“I don’t think I will, Sunwoo,” you sigh, exhausted from this game of cat and mouse you’ve been playing. “There’s just. A lot going on, right now. I’m tired. Stressed and tired.”

He accepts your subject change gracefully, hugging you tighter and humming in agreement. “I could tell. We all are, but you seem to be taking this all the worst after Eric.”

You snort. “Really? So why aren’t you comforting Eric about it, then?”

“You saw how he is. I don’t think he wants comfort from any of us except Kevin until we bring home another win.”

“I really thought this would help him,” you confess, voice small. It makes you ache a little. “It seemed like the perfect idea. Give him a sense of control and respect and trust in us again, focus on our art, kick some ass. I just didn’t expect him to kick ours.”

He chuckles, and you feel it rumble in his chest against your back. Grounding. “Yeah, me neither. That’s why I’m leaving that one to Kevin and coming to you instead.”

“Well, thanks.” You twist around in his arms to give him an appreciative peck to the lips, then immediately twist back around towards the scenery at how just seeing his face up that close again made your heartbeat faster. His presence feels so much more intense since that conversation, which is likely why you ended up being so avoidant.

“Turn around and look at me.”

“Huh?” You do, withholding the urge to visibly gulp at the way he smirks down at you and cups your cheek.

“You’re really cute when you’re too flustered to look me in the eye. Have you been having feeeelings about me?” he teases, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and fizzling out the last coherent thought you had in your brain.

“It’s– It’s a feeling alright,” you stammer, trying so hard not to shy away from his gaze. “One of them, for sure.”

“Mm, I wonder which one,” he presses further, leaning in to dust kisses along your jawline, stopping at your neck just to breathe over it. “But you don’t even know that for yourself yet, do you?”

You shiver, clutching tightly at his hips. “I– I don’t know. Everything has been so insane lately and I don’t wanna add to all that at such a stressful time for everyone, y’know?”

He pulls back with a sympathetic smile and strokes your hair. “This is the most stressed I’ve seen you in a while. Been waiting for you to ask me or the others to help you do something about it, but you haven’t. Why?”

Perceptive as ever, Sunwoo sees right through you like fucking glass. To a point where it would be almost humiliating if it weren’t exactly what you needed a lot of the time. “Because everyone is tired and sore and needing to be in tip-top shape if we’re gonna endure any more of Eric’s boot camp hell. This is the kind of frustration I’d take out on Wooyoung that’d have him sitting on a bag of frozen peas and calling out of work for the night.”

“Ooh,” Sunwoo chuckles with a smirk, “that frustrated, huh? Well, I don’t enjoy pain that much, but I can fuck the frustration out of you if you want—”

“Tempting as that sounds,” you muse aloud with a click of your tongue, “I don’t wanna put your body through any more stress than Eric already is. You’re not a dancer, you must be sore all over.”

“I am,” Sunwoo confesses, “But I don’t need to exert myself. C’mon, you needa de-stess.”

“Sunwoo…” A smile is already tugging at your lips however, and you both know you don’t have it in you to deny him.

“C’mon.” He has a cheeky grin as he waddles you down the hill with him back towards the lodge, ushering you to his room. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He’s confident. He always is, never failing to lure you in and get you where he wants. If that happens to be his bed, then in his bed you will be, trapped in his embrace on the edge of the bed, right in front of a full-length mirror. Sunwoo is a bit vain like that, or perhaps just voyeuristic. Probably just voyeuristic, if the way he left the bedroom door wide open is any indicator, but such isn’t uncommon when it’s only the band around. This time, at least, the lodge seems empty.

Sunwoo takes his time kissing along your neck and trailing his hands along your body, under your clothes, and you sigh and lean back against him, letting your eyes flutter shut and focus on the feeling of his plush lips and calloused guitarist’s fingers. There’s no rush. You know he could do this all day, and it has you relaxing into it so much you jolt and gasp when he bites down on your neck just as hard as you like it. The dark chuckle he lets out at your whine is telling; he has you right where he wants you, playing your body like a fiddle.

He turns your head towards him and pulls you into a heated kiss, slow yet eager, savouring every brush of lips and taste of tongue. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world and he wants to spend all of it just feeling you against him, your lips on his lips and your skin under his palms and his hardness against your back when he pulls you closer.

A hand slips down your pants but not past your underwear, simply cupping you there, idly teasing as he proceeds to kiss you, and you find yourself subtly shifting your hips up into his touch for more pressure. You know if you tried to egg him on any further he’d pull away immediately, so your keep your hands firmly planted on his thighs encasing yours, giving them an encouraging squeeze.

“Want more, baby?” he breathes into your ear, the air making you shiver.

“Please.” You don’t have the energy for his teasing, or any of the usual back and forth. You’ve had enough of that lately, and at least with Sunwoo, you don’t feel too embarrassed to beg. “Just touch me.”

“Your wish is my command, prince.”

His hand finally slips into your underwear and touches you where you need him most, gathering your wetness on his fingers and slowly circling your clit. Too slow. It does it’s intended purpose of riling you up, but you don’t need to be even more riled up right now, you need to let off steam—

“Relax,” he murmurs when your hips buck up more into him. “Just focus on feeling all of it, okay? You’re gonna tire yourself out quickly if you’re that eager.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, slipping a finger into you and replacing its spot on your clit with his thumb.

“Sunwoo, please,” you beg again, and you see him smirk down at himself in the mirror. That little shit. He’s enjoying your desperation a little too much for someone who claims he just wants you to relax. “I need more.”

“Well, shit,” Sunwoo hisses, slipping a second finger in and finally quickening the pace and pressure of his fingers, your body singing under his onslaught. “When you ask that prettily, how am I supposed to deny you, mm?”

Your head falls onto his shoulder, just in perfect range for him to start sucking on it again, no doubt on his way to leave a very visible mark behind. “Y-You don’t,” you manage to gasp out, and he smirks against your skin.

“Don’t get too used to it, prince. You might find me feeling a lot more cruel another day.”

You want to groan out, I know, but his fingers working their magic don’t let you, and you honestly welcome the way it makes your mind go blank, watching him through the mirror looking so focused and so into making you feel good, completely ignoring himself. Your eyes flutter shut just as you are interrupted by his phone ringing.

“Motherfucker—”

“Shhh.”

He doesn’t remove his hand from between your legs as he uses his other one to grab his phone from his pocket and answer it, lazily drawing circles on you with his thumb while grinning at you in the mirror. You know you’re trapped now, because you can’t quite recognise the muffled voice on the other line, and if it’s someone important, possibly even related to the band, you can’t risk ruining it for him by making a sound.

“Oh? No, I’m not busy,” he lies smugly, making direct eye contact with you while he says it and slipping in another finger. “Why, I didn’t expect you to call so soon. Missing me already?”

Your eyebrows raise at that comment, noticing the flirty lilt in his voice and trying to figure out who the fuck he would be talking to like that. It doesn’t sound like any of your bandmates, giving he wasn’t expecting the call, unless it was maybe Eric? You mouth him the question, but he pointedly ignores you and resumes curling his fingers in you so deliciously you have to bite your lip to stay quiet.

“That’s so pathetic it’s cute,” he giggles, and now you’re even more curious. There’s no way it would be Eric, not in the mood he’s been in, you think he would punch something if anyone tried to call him pathetic right now. “Oh, you poor little thing. I’m out of town right now, so you’re stuck there on your own.” He clicks his tongue at the other person’s reply. “I meant I wasn’t too busy to hear how you’re touching yourself for me and the things you’re thinking about me in explicit detail, so do go on.”

You widen your eyes again, pulse thrumming with the excitement of how dirty it all is, and with Sunwoo’s movements quickening you only hope that whoever’s on the other end of the line can’t hear your breathing quicken with it. Or maybe you hope they do.

He suddenly stops as the other person keeps talking, and next thing you know he’s propping his phone up between his face and shoulder and pulling at your pants. When you start to shimmy them off, he reaches for his own, pulling them down just enough to let his cock spring free, already dribbling precum.

“What am I doing? What do you think I’m doing, cutie? I’m taking my cock out. You sound so fucking delicious for me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told what to do, shifting back to meet him and hovering over his length, earning a hiss from him as he leans back and lets you rub the tip against your entrance. “Yeah? You gonna take me?” he pants into the phone, meeting your eye in the mirror as he says it. You sink down on him all at once and the moan he lets out is a guttural one. “Fuck, good boy.”

You hear a whine on the other end and it’s so tempting to just snatch the phone out of his hand and put it on speaker, let you in on the action too, but it doesn’t take long for him to practically read your mind and do it himself.

“Oh? You want to show me? Let me see your cute little cock then, princess.”

“Fuck,” the voice on the other end whimpers, broken and airy, and it becomes a video call request that he accepts with only audio on his end first. You aren’t sure who you were expecting to see, but when the screen comes up with the same man who you met stumbling out of your apartment last week, leaning back on the bed with cock in hand, ass plugged with a pretty pink gem, and a thin sheen of sweat sticking a few strands of his long, silky hair to his face.

“Mmm, so pretty for me, Jisung-ah,” he coos, voice shaky from how you slowly move up and down on him – or try to, but he stops you with his free hand and gives you a stern look you know is because he wanted you not to do any of the work. “You like showing off for me?”

He nods profusely, fucking his fist and scrambling down to reach for the plug to fuck it into his hole too. “Love it, love your eyes on me, fuck, wanna see you too, please, I bet you look so hot right now hyung…”

As far as you know, the two of them are the same age, and you suppose that’s why the honourific brings such a smug look to Sunwoo’s face. “’Hyung’? Not wanting to be my pretty little princess anymore, hmm?”

Jisung whines again even more needily, the lighting in his room is dim through the closed curtains but just enough evening sunlight peeks through to reflect off the wetness oozing from his tip as he lazily strokes it. “A-Ah, c’mon, please…”

“Please what?”

He shifts around on the bed a bit with his eyes squeezed shut, pulling an arm over his face to hide in his elbow while he mumbles, “Please, oppa.”

“That’s a good little girl,” Sunwoo rasps lowly, the praise making Jisung’s ministrations quicker, and you have to bite your hand to muffle a laugh at the sheer humiliation of it all, and just how easy it was. How perfectly pathetic. “Want me to put on a show for you?”

You know the real question he’s asking and to whom; do you want him to see us like this? You nod at him through the mirror and tap the camera icon for him, pointing the camera ahead so you he could see you both.

“Good thing you caught me at such a good time, then. You have such a good show to enjoy.”

Jisung freezes up, eye blowing wide at where his phone is propped up on something in front of him, and for a second you think he’s going to dive for it to hang up but instead he throws his head back so hard against the headboard you think it would have hurt, gasping and whimpering as he comes all over his fist, hips thrashing wildly and thick ropes of white painting his slutty little muscle tee, even from where it’s pulled up over his abs.

“What the– what the– what the fuck, Sunwoo!” he whines, still frantically jerking his cock and twitching violently at the overstim, burying his cute little face in his arm again, too embarrassed to face you himself but not too embarrassed to cum to it. Or maybe it was the embarrassment that made him cum in the first place. “You– you said you weren’t busy–“

“I never said I was alone, baby. Besides, we weren’t busy. Were we, prince? Just hangin’ out, right?”

“No, not busy. Just relaxing.” You flash a smarmy grin right back at him, grinding down on his cock with an over-exaggerated sigh, throwing your head back onto his shoulder again and spreading your legs to make sure Jisung was getting a nice view. After all, he deserves a treat for the humiliation the two of you just put him through.

“You– You’re a dick,” Jisung pants out, slowly pulling his arm away to pull his boxers back on. “Can’t believe you made me say that in front of him–“

“You love my dick,” Sunwoo sassed him back, passing you the phone so he could grab your hips and take over, pulling you up and thrusting up into you slowly. “Needa split you open on it again. Maybe they can watch. Don’t worry, they didn’t hear our whole conversation, only the video call – I’m sure he’d love to see it for himself instead, though.”

You moan, rubbing yourself as Sunwoo bounces you up and down and trying to keep the camera steady, “Oh, fuck I sure would. Would you be my good little girl, too?”

“You’re both so mean,” he complains again, and you find yourself quite liking the little pout on his face when he does it. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away, however, reaching forward to grab his phone from whatever it was propped up on his bed to get a better look. “Fuck… you look so hot like that though…”

Showing off a little more, you pull yourself off Sunwoo so Jisung could see his cock in all it’s glory, thick and veiny and oh-so-picturesque, and simply rub your pussy against it, both gasping when your clit and his head collide.

“Fuck, hold on,” Sunwoo mutters, reaching down to his luggage on the floor and rummaging for a bit before pulling out a sleek bullet vibe and turning it on, pressing it to your dick and slipping back inside. You both groan, as Sunwoo angles the vibe so he could feel its vibrations against his shaft too, and starts fucking into you with reckless abandon. “Shit, baby, so good–“

“Hah– thought you said you wouldn’t exert yourself– woah, slow down, I can’t keep the camera steady,” you huff, Sunwoo reluctantly obliging and taking the phone away to prop it up on the dresser and change it to the front facing camera towards the bed, pulling you back down with him and bending you over.

“Fuck that,” he growls, all his patience from before melted away with every rough snap of his hips, “I’m gonna fuck all that stress outta you, I’m gonna fuck you into this mattress even if it fucking kills me tomorrow.”

You are reduces to cries instead of words as he does exactly that – frankly you have no idea where all this energy comes from after a long day of dancing, but you figure he won’t have his usual stamina this time – craning your head over your should to peek at his phone on the dresser, where Jisung watches with his lip pulled between his teeth and an obvious shaking from below the screen.

“Let us see,” you gasp out, eyes rolling back into your head as Sunwoo angles his hips just right and makes you see stars, but you force yourself to focus on the screen just enough to see him lift his phone higher and reveal him stroking his cock again, still covered in cum, cutely small in his hand.

“Y-You guys are so fucking hot it’s unfair,” he sighs, body twitching hard enough to shake the camera with every other movement. “Can’t believe you fuck raw too. Do you cum inside? Can I see it? Please, wanna see him dripping, fuck, wish that was me.”

“Yeah? Wish this was you, huh?” Sunwoo pulls you up on your knees with a firm yank on your hair, pulling a moan from you, and you don’t have much of a choice but to let him use you as he wants as he fills you up so fucking good. “Want me to cum in your ass and knock you up, huh? Want me to breed your cute little hole? Ooh, he clenched around me at that, I didn’t know you liked that one, prince.”

You whine a little in embarrassment, but mostly hold it together. “Y-Yeah well, it’s a new one,” you mutter, grasping for anything to ground you as Sunwoo keeps you propped up, but as soon as he lets you back down to lean on the mattress again, the vibe is back between your legs and you whimper.

“Cuuute, see, you’re not the only one who has embarrassing kinks, Jisung, looks like both of you wanna be all knocked up, hm? Want me to put a baby in you, baby?”

“No,” you rasp, ignoring the way his words send a wave of heat down south anyway. “Wanna put a baby in him.” You point towards the camera, and Jisung whines so erotically you think he would do just as well on cam as Hyunjin or San would.

“That’s so fucking hot fuck– please, please, please, breed me, knock me up, both of you, fuck…” He’s fucking the a dildo in his ass now, so frantically it keeps slipping out, “Need you both inside me, fuck, get me pregnant…”

The two of you chuckle at how far gone he is, willing to say all these embarrassing things so openly to the same people he spent so long arguing with the other week, that bitter resentment warped into something else entirely and were you not getting your brains fucked out you would want to ask Sunwoo how the fuck he did it, but he seems intent on not giving you the chance to form a proper sentence.

“Fuck– yes– shit I think I’m gonna–“ your breathing quickens, your core tightens, and one strangled groan from Sunwoo behind you and another few perfectly angled snaps of his hips sends you falling over the edge, the high pulsing through you like electricity.

“That’s it baby, thaaat’s it, fuck you’re so pretty when you cum for me,” Sunwoo mutters, bending over you and tilting your head to steal a kiss as he follows you over, moaning against your lips as he paints your walls white.

Jisung is still panting and fucking himself with his toy while the two of you catch your breath, and the sheer agony on his face is so fucking delightful you find yourself wanting to be so much meaner to him if given the chance.

“No, no, please,” he begs, “don’t stop yet, ahh, I’m close, please.”

He sure seems to love the show, so it’s a good thing you and Sunwoo both love to perform.

“Babe, move with me, lemme get the camera–“

You and Sunwoo both awkwardly shuffle to the edge of the bed where Sunwoo can reach his phone again, taking it off the dresser and flipping the camera back to the front so he can give your little voyeur on the phone a close-up view of where your bodies meet.

“Oh, fuck–“

“Don’t look away for even a second, baby. You don’t wanna miss a second of this.”

Sunwoo slowly pulls himself out, shiny and wet and covered in you, and when you clench down around nothing, he has a perfect shot of his cum dripping from your hole. The sounds Jisung is making on the other end of the line are beyond gone, fucked out and on the brink, and when Sunwoo collects his dripping cum on his fingers and pushes them back inside you, you hear his voice crack.

“Fuck–! Cum- Cumming- fuck…!”

“That’s a good girl.” He puts the phone back in front of you so you both can enjoy the sight of Jisung spilling another load all over his chest, not even touching his cock as he simply milks his prostate with the toy inside him. Sunwoo is even mean enough to take screenshots, and you grin at him, “Send those to me.”

It takes him a long moment to recover from the intensity of his orgasm, chest heaving, covered in sweat and his own mess, but the most dazed smile takes over his features as he covers half his face in disbelief.

“Fuck,” he exhales, picking the camera back up to hover above his face, “You guys are the hottest fucking… most insufferably horrible people I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow at him playfully, “Sounds like you like it, though.”

“Yeah, well,” he rolls his eyes, “Unfortunately for me that’s kinda my type. Dick hard one moment, wanting to punch you through a wall the next.”

“Don’t worry, I think Changbin already did the latter part for you!” Sunwoo chips in helpfully, so you elbow him in the shoulder. “See you on the battlefield next time, cutie.”

Jisung snorts, and you see him slipping out of his dick-drunk trance. “Is it really a battle or is it a slaughter?” He catches his tongue between cheekily at that, and you feel heat flare up of a familiarly ambiguous kind.

“We’ll make it a slaughter by the time we’re done with you,” you vow, and Sunwoo has to put a hand on your shoulder to remind you to save it and not get too heated. “You aren’t ready for what we have in store for the next round.”

“More provoking lyrics and slutty outfits? I think I can take it. Yes, innuendo intended, I could and would take you both – now I gotta get cleaned up, so. See ya later.”

It takes a second for you to recover from the whiplash of him bouncing between cocky and confident, and needy and pathetic, back and forth between only a few sentences, but you are quickly starting to understand what Seungmin meant about him. You exchange glances with Sunwoo and shrug.

“Still stressed out?”

“His switch-up at the end wasn’t that good for my stress levels, but I think I’m mostly alright,” you laugh, and Sunwoo laughs with you, then raises a suggestive brow.

“Sit on my face about it?”

“God, you’re the best. I’m gonna suck your soul out your dick about it.”

Eric looks up and all he can see is Felix looking down at him.

He wants to punch a fucking hole in the wall, shatter glass, snap something in half. He does not delude himself into thinking he is not an angry kind of person; he is, and he knows it. Still, lately he finds his nerves have been grated even more than usual, and he’d be a fool to not know why – it’s Felix. Of course it’s Felix. He just didn’t think it’d get him like this.

They broke up on good terms. That’s what he keeps drilling into his own head, over and over like he would forget otherwise. It was a mutual agreement; they weren’t working out. Eric wanted to see Felix a lot more than Felix could see him, and Felix didn’t want Eric to feel like he was constantly being put on the backburner, so they broke up. Figured that it just was the right person, wrong time.

Right person, wrong time.

He keeps telling himself that, over and over, as he goes through the choreography again, and again, and again, long after the rest of the band got sick of his shit and left him in the makeshift studio. He wants to punch the mirror hard enough to shatter it.

Right person, wrong time.

He regrets how much he held onto the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could wait for him. Maybe there could be a right time, if he was patient. Like a fucking fool, he hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time he held him, kissed him, or touched him again. And it wasn’t – so why does it feel like it only made it worse? Felix was exactly like he remembered, only with more tattoos and piercings, dark hair, a sharper jawline, broader shoulders, and a bit more attitude. But he was still Felix, he was still his Felix, still the Felix who crumbles for someone with lots of confidence, who can’t lie, still the Felix who pokes his tongue in his cheek when he’s riled up, his Felix who’s breath hitches when someone leans in close, who gulps when he’s nervous, who’s voice jumps up in pitch when he gets filled up-

“Missed me that much?”

He keeps playing that night over and over. The song plays again, he twists and turns and jumps and hits, but all he can see is Felix and you all over him. He missed him. He missed him so fucking badly, when he really did think he had moved on. He has you now, he has the band, and that was more than enough for him – he even stopped dating because whatever it is you guys have going on was always just so much better. Hell, even if Felix came crawling back to him on his hands and knees to apologise and asked to get back together again, Eric doesn’t even think he would say yes. Not if it meant giving up what you guys have.

He still fucking misses him.

The choreography is intense. He pops, locks, perfects his body line, practices his flip, lands on one knee just a bit too wobbly for comfort; but while the music still plays, the energetic and intense trap beat Kevin made just for him, he doesn’t get back up. He falls forward, hands on the polished wooden floors, and cringes as it comes back wet – it’s only then when he realises he’s crying. He’s crying onto the floor of his dance studio while his kick-ass battle song plays and he just feels so fucking pathetic, because why is he even crying over this? Why is he crying over someone who was never truly his? Why is he even crying over someone who didn’t even really wrong him?

Not until now, at least. Not in their relationship. Unless the reason he was so busy back then was because he was making another dance crew with his other friends and he decided he would rather give up Force and Eric along with it, like Eric suspects, when if he wanted to sing and rap that badly he knows Eric would have let him join the runaways. He’d even fit with their namesake too, having ditched his family home in the middle of the night as soon as he turned eighteen; he knew Eric would have loved to have him here.

But of course, he was too busy. Not too busy for Stray Kids, just too busy for Force, and too busy for him. As they always were. As everyone always fucking is. History has a habit of repeating itself until you learn your lesson but he just does not understand the lesson needing to be learnt – what does he need to do to make them stay? What does he need to do to be someone’s first priority, to not be constantly brushed aside? What does he need to do to be worthy of the kind of intense devotion he gives everyone he cares about? Eric supposes that was always his weakness; loving more than he was ever loved back. Everyone would love him, but not nearly as much as he loved them, when push came to shove. Everyone except you and the band.

What he just doesn’t get, is why you guys just can’t get that. You seemed to understand enough that coming to participate in a band contest as a glorified dance crew – a dance crew, like the one he left – with his cool new friends when he knew how important the competition was to you guys, was a cold fucking move at worst and a nonsensical one at best. They insulted you, punched you in the fucking face, insulted your work, and you just go and suck their dicks about it? Go and suck Felix’s dick about it? You know what he means to him. You know he isn’t over him. But it seems like just about fucking everybody is willing to bend over backwards for the golden boy and his pretty freckles and award-winning smile that Eric fell for so long ago.

“Fuck. Fucking fuck!”

Eric knows exactly why you like him so much. He knows because he still fucking likes him. He knows because when he smirks at you like that, and he still wants to kiss him too. He still remembers how soft his lips are, and that they taste like caramel because he’s always drinking those sickeningly sweet excuses for coffees that might as well be milkshakes. But he just can’t do it. He can’t just kiss him like they’re still in love when he is coming and taking over everything that was ever fucking important to him. Everything he still cares about. Dance, music, you, his friends. But it doesn’t include him anymore, it never was fucking about him. Not anymore, it’s never about him anymore. Even now, at his family’s holiday house, leading his supposed dance boot camp, the rest of you are in the lodge playing board games without him because you said you needed a break and he’s been pushing you too hard.

If he can keep going, why can’t you? Why is he the only one taking this seriously? What happened to trusting him? You said you let him lead this week so he can see that you trust and value his input, but you guys just aren’t listening.

More than anything, he just wants to go home. He’s tired, mentally and physically, and he just wants things to go back to the way things were before the battle. Home, not the apartment, but in a cuddle puddle with the six of you when none of you are mad at each other, staring at the ceiling while the starry sky projector you bought lights up the room with colour.

But he knows better than to think you will agree to back out now. Hell, as much as he wants to, he wouldn’t let you, either; the controversy has put both you and your rival band in the spotlight like never before, and if you all want to achieve your dreams of being able to do music as a career and tour the world, you need this. He needs this. He’ll be damned if his shady ex-boyfriend gets in the way of that.

No more distractions, he decides, getting up and wiping away his tears. One more time, from the top.

“Eric?”

When he looks toward the doorway and sees the solemn expression Kevin gives him, holding a plate of freshly cooked food in hand, he feels whatever wall he just built up come crumbling down instantly. “Kevin…”

Kevin must be able to tell that he was just crying, because he sets down tonight’s meal on the pool table pushed aside to make room, and sweeps Eric into a crushing hug, which, for Kevin, isn’t the most common of gestures. Eric hugs him back and buries his face in his neck, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting to say anything. Not even wanting to hear anything. Kevin speaks anyway.

“We’re all really worried about you, y’know?”

“Not really,” Eric sniffles, and he hates how pathetic it sounds. “No one’s listening to me.”

Kevin tuts and pulls back slightly to frown at him, but Eric doesn’t look up. He can’t bear to meet his eyes. “Eric, we’re not listening because you’re being unreasonable. The week’s deadline doesn’t suddenly give our bodies any more endurance than they already have. We’re not all built like you!”

“I’m sick of fighting, Kev,” Eric sighs, and Kevin runs a hand through his hair soothingly.

“Then don’t fight. How about we go eat and head to bed early? It’s been a long day.”

Eric wants to argue again, despite just saying he is sick of arguing. He does not want to be coddled like an angry toddler throwing a tantrum, but that’s exactly how he feels; unheard, begrudgingly comforted just so he can calm down and go back to normal. He thinks he wants things to go back to normal more than the rest of you combined. Normal, back when it didn’t feel like all his bandmates were looking so far down at him like everyone else.

He bites his tongue and redirects it.

“How about I eat you instead? To de-stress, of course.”

Please let me have this, Eric pleads silently, hidden poorly behind a weak smirk. He grabs Kevin’s hips and starts tugging him towards the couch pushed up to the side of the room. Let me have you, let me feel you.

Kevin sees his request for what it is; a plea for intimacy, more than sex. A plea for trust, connection.

He sees it for what it is, and with a small sigh, grabs his face and connects their lips.

By the time you and Sunwoo finish cleaning up and re-gaining the feeling in your legs, a bonfire is crackling outside, while Wooyoung and Mingi are manning a fragrant barbecue. Eric being there is a welcome sight – just the fact that he is no longer cooping himself up inside the practice room or his room is already promising, but him being around the rest of the band willingly is even better. You turn to smile at Sunwoo and he’s already smiling back at you – he’s probably thinking the same thing.

“Well look who finally–“ You are cut off by Sunwoo stepping past you and shoving you roughly in the side to sit down next to Eric on a log and clap a hand on his shoulder.

“Glad to see you back, bro.”

Eric smiles.

You can’t even complain at the shove as it was completely called for; Sunwoo is right, what Eric needs now is probably not your usual attitude and instead more gentle appreciation, so you follow his lead and sit on his other side, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Sorry. Missed you.”

He doesn’t seem to need the clarification on what you meant, giving that you have been seeing each other most of every day the whole week, but he returns your peck with a quiet thanks and goes back to staring into the dancing flames.

You have half the mind to leave him alone, since he clearly does not feel like talking, but you figured that if he really wanted to be left alone, he would be in his room or the makeshift studio again, so his decision to be here around you all was deliberate. So you stay next to him, pressed shoulder to shoulder just to give him that grounding point of contact – you’re there. You’re with him, next to him. If he wants to speak, he can, but if he doesn’t, you’ll still be there anyway.

He leans his head on your shoulder, and you feel your heart soar. He’s leaning on you. Both figuratively and literally, he’s leaning on you, he’s allowing himself to be soft with you even if he might still be mad at you. You wrap an arm around his shoulders and press another kiss to the top of his head, to let him know you heard him, even if he didn’t say anything. You hear him.

Sunwoo gets up to grab his food when Wooyoung calls that dinner’s ready, but Eric doesn’t move, and you won’t either until he does, but you give his shoulder a little squeeze.

“You gonna eat anything?”

“Not hungry.”

“Eric…”

“I’ll eat later, I promise,” he insists, taking your free hand in his and playing with it gently, intertwining your fingers. “Just… not right now.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, not wanting to find any more reasons to disagree with him for now. “What do you want to do right now, then?”

He has to think about it, still playing with your hands as he does, and it’s cute how it seems to soothe him somewhat. “I want… to talk this out, or whatever. I’m tired of being angry. I just. Don’t really know how to start.”

You look over his shoulder to gesture to the others to come in, and you all find yourselves seated on the log by the bonfire or the dirt in front of it, not wanting to be any further from Eric than necessary. “Start wherever you feel like, baby. We’re listening.”

He sighs, then tries to gather the words to start, then sighs again even louder. He lets go of your hand to drop his head into his own.

“I don’t know. I’m just, I’m tired, I’m upset, I miss Felix, I don’t want to miss Felix, I’m angry at him for doing this to me, I’m angry that you’re taking such an interest in him, I’m scared of being replaced, and I feel so fucking inferior about everything I ever had any confidence in and I just want it all to stop.”

“Okay, that’s a good start,” you encourage him, stroking his back rhythmically while he let it all out. “I had a feeling it was something along those lines.”

“It’s alright to be scared and angry,” Mingi pipes up helpfully, leaning over to give Eric a reassuring head pat.

“Felix did do you pretty dirty,” Wooyoung adds, to which the others nod.

Eric sighs again, running his hands through his hair. “I’m scared,” he repeats. “I’m scared we’ll lose. And I don’t know how I’ll handle that if we do. Because that’d be… feels almost fucking symbolic, in a way, of him just. Ruining everything I worked towards. That’s why I keep drilling you guys and being even more of a perfectionist than usual and – god, they’re fucking perfect. They’re incredible performers. I still don’t think their act should be allowed as a band but they’re so fucking good at what they do I can’t help but think we can’t really compete.”

“But we can!” San chimes in, shifting closer to make sure Eric is looking at him. “Prior to this week I didn’t even know how to dance beyond a few TikTok challenges, now I’m doing choreography you made for a dance crew! Half of you guys are practically professionals, and this might be one of the best songs Kevin’s produced yet, and the lyrics–“

“Have some more faith in us,” you interrupt, a little too enthusiastic, “we’re fucking good at what we do, too. We won last year for a reason, remember? This stage is absolutely gonna blow their socks off.”

“It’s not you guys I’m really worried about,” Eric admits quietly, still refusing to look any of you in the eye. He doesn’t need to. You already see his real feelings written all over him.

“You’re worried you might fuck up the whole thing.”

His silence is the only confirmation you need.

“Oh, Eric.” You pull him in for a tighter hug, which everyone else joins in until you are all awkwardly hunched over on the log and almost fall over, making you all giggle. “You’re not going to fuck up anything, okay? You’re going to be the star of the show.”

“I don’t know… I don’t think my choreography can match theirs. I’m mostly trained in hip-hop, but Hyunjin adds a contemporary twist to theirs, and Lino has such insane body control and–“

“And you have a swagger onstage that they could only dream of,” Kevin finishes, leaning over to put a finger to Eric’s lips, and he finally looks up from the ground to meet him. “Do you really think band judges are going to be looking for mixtures of dance genres and technical precision? They’re here for the music and they’re here for the spectacle. I’m pretty sure the reason why Stray Kids are getting as far as they are, is more to do with their production quality, live vocals, and stage presence. Are you really gonna doubt us on those fronts? This isn’t a dance tournament.”

Eric doesn’t have a response for that, playing with his own hands as he processes it all, so you take one into your own so he could go back to fidgeting with yours if he so desired.

“You’re right, I can’t doubt your guys’ songs and vocals like that. That wouldn’t be fair. Suppose it also wasn’t fair how hard I pushed your bodies, too.”

“Or your own,” Wooyoung reminds him, getting up to grab a now-cool plate of food to bring back to him and plop it in his lap. “You don’t need to be so hard on yourself, either. Whether or not we win the next round, which I have in good confidence that we will, we are still incredible fucking performers. Stray cats can’t take that from us. It’s not like we can really lose – everyone else in the competition has been an absolute non-event, dude. No one’s talking about them. We’re basically guaranteed second place at the very least, and that’s still a win.”

Eric pokes at the meat on his plate with his fork, trying to muster up the appetite. “I don’t want to be second place to anyone. Not anymore.”

You realise what he really means by that, and he doesn’t mean the competition at all. It was never about the battle, it was about the war – the ongoing war raging in his head of his own self-worth and the way his past threatens it. How he can never be certain that he won’t have to fight for his right to exist, his right to be loved – and you get it. You really do. So deeply, even, that you have bonded over it in the past, and that is exactly how you know that he will stick by you till the bitter end, and you just wish he could feel the same. You sigh and massage the back of his neck.

“Eric, sweetheart, you could never be replaced. Not by Felix, not by the homeless children, not by anyone. We wouldn’t be here right now if you could!”

He seems to only shrink in size as he curls up and munches on his food. “Why are you so obsessed with Felix, then?”

He turns to you.

“Obsessed? With Felix?” It strikes you as a little odd. “What do you mean obsessed with him? He hurt you, Eric. I can’t forgive him for that. You know how ride or die I am for the people I care about and the six of you are at the absolute top of that list. I’m fucking around with him because I want him to feel as small and pathetic as he’s made you feel, and I want it to fucking haunt him how he can’t help but think of it when it’s just him and his right hand. I want to drive him insane until he realises he fumbled the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“And Chan? You seem awfully interested in him too. And how interested he is in Felix.”

You are not sure whether to feel hurt or understanding at Eric’s accusations. You know he’s insecure and you know he needs your reassurance, but you don’t like the way he’s painting you in this whole situation. “Chan has a weak spot for Felix and it’s so easy to prey on. Why wouldn’t I? He’s the core of their group. He calls the shots and it seems like to some degree, everyone relies on him. You destabilise him, you destabilise all of them. Besides, we just have beef from leader to leader, creative to creative. I know we got invested in this whole rivalry for your sake at first, Eric, but it’s gotten pretty personal now. That doesn’t mean we’re moving past you now. It means we’re all taking them on together.”

“You make the battle of the bands sound like some huge psyop mission,” Kevin snorts, finishing off his plate. “We should just not worry about them and focus on making our performance the best we can be. I’m sure Chan and Felix and all of them will leave us alone if we just leave them be.”

“No way!”

You, Eric, Wooyoung, and Sunwoo, all pipe up at the same time, looking at Kevin incredulously.

“I don’t want to leave them alone, I want them to wish they could be us so bad,” Wooyoung huffs, crossing his arms. “C’mon, even you enjoyed putting Jupiter in their places last year. It’s fun to stick it to some bitches who deserve it!”

Kevin goes quiet, then waves his arm dismissively. “Yeah alright, whatever. Have your fun with it then, I guess.”

“Maybe I need to be having more fun with it,” Eric chuckles, poking at his dinner some more. “I mean, tag teaming him at the Prism was pretty fun. I guess I just got… really into my own head about it.”

“Attaboy,” you cheer, giving him an encouraging slap on the back, “that’s the spirit! Obviously you don’t have to fuck around with them if you don’t want to. But y’know. You can always annoy them more.”

“I think I’d rather fuck you in front of them and have them watch,” Eric throws out casually, making your eyebrows shoot up and your still aching core throb. “That’d be pretty hot. Wonder if they’d agree to it, though.”

You shrug. “I dunno Eric, we can be pretty damn convincing, I think. Maybe we should invite them to our dressing room next round. Or something. We’ll work it out. But before we get to any more plotting and scheming… how do you feel? Are you like… okay? Or at least better?”

“Better,” he nods, and you feel reassured in that he didn’t have to stop to think about it. “I don’t know. I know I was projecting my own insecurities onto you guys. And I know I was pushing you guys too far. I just needed to feel… like I held any weight here. Like I was still important to you guys.”

“Of course you’re still important to us,” Mingi breathes out, visibly saddened at the thought that Eric even had to doubt it. “I’m sorry you couldn’t feel it enough.”

“I do now, at least.” He cracks a small smile, and exchanges a knowing look with Kevin that makes you think Sunwoo was onto something when he said he’d let the keyboardist handle him. “I know that was the point of this entire trip. And I’m sorry all I used it for was to try and find ways to prove that you guys didn’t care as much as I did. I’ll stop projecting. At least, I’ll try.”

“That’s all we can ask for, Eric,” San reminds him, getting up to give him another hug. Sunwoo has to stabilise his plate so it doesn’t get shoved off his lap. “You can tell us if you’re feeling bad or insecure about things, y’know? Just please don’t get angry with us. You know we can talk things out calmly and you’re scary when you yell.”

Eric laughs at the audible pout in San’s voice without needing to see it over his shoulder. He pats him on the back affectionately. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try not to. I’m sorry again. We can take tomorrow off, I think. Enjoy the holiday house while we’re here, spend the day by the lake, maybe. It’ll be fun.”

“Sounds like exactly what we all need!” Kevin agrees, clapping his hands together. “I unironically think that our practice will be even better if we don’t practice for a day. Let our bodies catch up with it all.”

“For sure,” Wooyoung agrees, “it’s always like that. In the meantime, I think we should all take turns schlobbing your knob for being such a great dance teacher.”

That makes everyone burst out laughing, but Wooyoung simply doubles down. “What? I mean it! I’ll give you the sloppiest toppy bro, the Gluck Gluck Triple Twist–“

“I get it, I get it,” Eric howls, trying to recover from the sudden humorous outburst. “God, that gave me whiplash. Yeah, sure, if you’re offering, I won’t say no.”

“It’s whatever you want, Eric,” you tell him, leaning on his shoulder this time, “after all, this is still meant to be your trip.”

The smallest but most genuine of smiles pulls at the corners of his lips, and he presses them to your crown appreciatively. “Thanks. All of you. You guys… mean a lot to me.”

Sunwoo notices the tears glistening on his cheeks before you do, and instantly leans in to kiss them off, and before you know it, everyone is swarming him to try and express their own forms of affection to a point that’s downright comical in it’s impracticality, knocking him off the log in your onslaught of touch and kisses.

“Ahaha, alright, alright! I get it, you guys too– ahahaha, fuckin hell, you guys are too much.”

Once again you hear what he really says, and it’s loud and clear;

I love you all so much.

a/n: i feel like the apologies for the wait get more and more ironic the longer i go between updates, but i really am sorry! 2023 was a year of all time for me and i was just speedrunning life events but it's okay i think im normal now. ish. im writing again at least! i slaved over this chapter for MONTHS because i kept changing it and hating parts of it no matter what i did so i just sat down and finished it and decided i would not proofread or reread at all and just go with whatever i come up with so i can finally get this chapter DONE or else it might have just sat in my wips rotting for another year. so apologies if you notice the dip in quality, but hopefully you wont LMFAOOoo

“Anything for you,” he breathlessly sighed. Once outside he was met by a photographer ready to capture a few more shots of the bride and groom before the star of the day was shuffled off in the care of staff to be replaced by you at San's side. Posing together, he got you laughing easily as the celebrity photographer took pictures for the article you were about to be interviewed for. Already known for your fantastic creations, you were the subject more than your costuming work this time. It was kept short due to the long day and soon you and San were entwined in the back seat as his driver delivered you home.

The next morning San shook you awake at his side. Opening your eyes to see his phone, the first thing you could make out was a photo of you arm in arm while kissing as the lead story on one of the more popular news sites. “ATEEZ heartthrob and actor Choi San has been making waves as half of the couple sweeping best pairing categories at all the drama award shows this year. We caught up to him after the long awaited wedding was filmed for his latest hit, but the real star of the day was someone behind the scenes. In a love story better than fiction, San fell for and is set to marry the lead costume designer on the production. We had the chance to talk to the adoring pair on set in this exclusive interview.”

Your fiancé kissed you then caressed your face gently. “The hardest thing I have ever done as an actor was to keep my eyes on the woman playing my bride while you were in the church audience as an extra for that scene. All I could think about was our own wedding day coming up and how much I love you.”

Snuggling back into his arms, your mind went to the far simpler real ceremony planned for later in the week. “Your co-star had you for minutes, and really only got the character you are playing, but we will have each other for a lifetime. I know who has the better deal.”

~

Wrong move. Nevertheless, you smile at the rage reflected in her eyes, storming towards you, but you don’t flinch. She won’t hit you. You know she won’t – such would reflect badly on her, and she has a role to play; the role of a kind, benevolent Queen. So gracious that she houses you, despite the dirt you put on her name. How generous and understanding of her, to not cast you out for the crows to finish off for defying her so constantly. Truly.

She grabs your wrist harshly and drags you out of an earshot from the seamstresses sorting out your dress, lowering her voice. “This is your last chance, child. I have been merciful thus far, but if you keep up your ‘prince’ act and ruin things any more than you already have at the gala – in front of both our neighbouring kingdoms, may I remind you – you’re out. I don’t care where you go, but it will certainly not be here.”

You swallow down the bile that rises in your throat at the threat. She’s insinuated such things before, but never has it sounded so final, concrete. You suppose perhaps she has been waiting for this – a chance for you to publicly fuck up badly enough that exiling you won’t reflect on her as a Queen, and more on you as a failure. After all, the problem has always been you, hasn’t it? No one else seems to have a problem with their name, their role, how they’re referred to or how they’re supposed to act. No, you’re just some spoiled princess who craves attention since her older sister is the heir to the throne instead. How spoiled you are, to have it all and still have the nerve to ask for some basic respect and understanding.

Who else could possibly even begin understand you, anyway? You don’t see anyone else rejecting the role they were born with, living the life of another – except, maybe, the name you hear scandalously gossiped about in the courtyard and throughout the town, the estranged firstborn of the Reujian Royal Family. Princess Mingi.

The princess, to your knowledge, is actually a man. At first you though perhaps he wasn’t, and he simply was born that way and like you, wanted no part in it – but word got around that he fell in love with a man, and was told much like you were, and only princesses like princes. He took this and decided that he would simply be a princess. It was a bold move. You respect it. You only wish you could speak with him, maybe then you’d feel more sane.

The Queen would never allow it, though, as she remains boring her eyes into yours with an icy cold warning. Whether to scream, laugh, or cry, you’re not entirely sure. Instead, you meet your mother’s gaze for a few long moments, hoping she can feel the piercing hurt and bitter hatred that seeps from your very being, and wordlessly turn around to leave. She is not worth the breath you have to spare on words to change her mind; there will be no such thing. You know that much by now.

You have better plans now, more important ones. The first step? Writing a letter and finding a way to contact the infamous Princess Mingi.

“So are you going to tell me why you’re sneaking around and trying to keep something hidden from our mother, or what?”

Your older sister blocks the doorway you were attempting to go through, leaving you without many options. Finding the privacy to write a personal letter was easy; finding someone who would be willing to keep secrets from the rest of the royal family was not, and as trustworthy as your selected messenger may seem – a pretty servant boy called Wooyoung with a fine eye for shiny stones and a certain distaste for the rules – you were not willing to bank on him not ratting you out if your sister, or gods forbid, your mother, interrogated him personally.

“Bold accusations to toss around,” you huff simply, buying yourself some time to formulate a cover. “I swear everyone’s just looking for an excuse to get me in trouble. You, too?”

The Crown Princess sighs deeply, seating herself on the plush study chair you were writing in not long before. “Not if you help me with something. And promise you won’t tell mother.”

“Now that’s more like it.”

You grab yourself a chair to sit across from her, crossing your legs and waiting for her to talk. She doesn’t meet your eye, which is rather uncharacteristic for the woman; not for her to be shy, or even anxious, but for her to be so around you. Usually, it seemed like she cared about just everyone else’s opinions except yours.

“The stable boy,” she breathes out quietly, “I think... no, I am... I’m in love with him.”

Had you been sipping a drink, you surely would’ve spat it right back out.

“The stable boy?”

“I know, I know,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and seemingly trying to shrink into herself, shield her ego from the blow of such a confession. “It’s… I don’t know. I tried to ignore it. I know Mother really wants me to find a prince or nobleman to marry, she’s been so insistent on me attempting to court the Crown Prince of Choeya at the gala… but I cannot do it. Not while I know my heart belongs with another. Not while his belongs with me.”

It’s reciprocal, then, that changes things. You let the new information bounce around in your head to really process it before offering any sort of advice or reaction; a learned behaviour taught to you by the royal court since the moment you were old enough to speak. Since, you have commonly opted to not bother filtering or formulating your responses based on other’s reactions, but this situation is far more delicate than most – at least to you. For your sister was the only one who tried to treat you the same despite it all.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

She wouldn’t have come to you just to confide a secret, you’re sure. Well, mostly sure, though royal life is rather lonely and there is a chance she came to you as the only person she could get it off her chest with, barring the stable boy himself.

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” She plays with the sleeves of her dress, staring at them like the answers lie within the intricate lace patterns. “But you’re good at these things, usually. Figuring out how to do things we’re not supposed to do. You find a way.”

“Find a way?” You scoff, unable to believe what you’re hearing. “Is that what it looks like to you? Our mother threatened me with exile this morning.”

Her movements halt, hands dropping from her sleeves and looking up at you with wide eyes. “She... surely she doesn’t—”

“She means it this time.”

The silence is deafening, ringing through your ears. She means it this time. A probability that neither you nor your sister ever wanted to face, and thought maybe, just maybe, it would never really happen. What else would keep the young going if not foolish hopes and dreams? It was a wilful delusion, one that you wished didn’t have to be over so soon.

Like usual, however, fate has other plans.

“What do you plan to do, then?” Her voice is edged with worry, more than you’ve ever heard from her before. More than you ever thought you’d ever hear from her.

You shrug. “Pack my things, maybe. She says this gala is my last chance, and if I ruin it I’m out for good. Good riddance, then,” you snort dryly, bitterly attempting to seem like this could be any sort of desirable outcome, a feeble attempt to regain any sort of control over the situation. “I’ll have to raise hell on my way out. This is going to be one hell of a party.”

“You’re not even going to try?”

“Why would I?”

It’s as clear as day to you. If there was any chance of pleasing your mother without sacrificing who you are, you would’ve done it already. You aren’t about to sacrifice who you are for the sake of what other people think. You refuse to live a lie, no matter how easy it would be. Easier on the outside, maybe.

“Is the luxury worth it if it comes with no real power, no real respect? Living as a commoner seems more appealing than this if it means I finally get seen as a man. Not being watched and scorned for my every move.”

She has nothing to say back. There’s a silent but mutual understanding that you won’t change your mind, and that she will miss you. She toys with her sleeves again, trying to think of something, and you let her. Not that you think it’ll make much of a difference, but you let her, just because.

“Court Prince Yunho for me, then.”

“Huh? Did you not miss the part where—”

“Lie. Lie to our mother, tell her you’ll shape up and you regret acting up and you want to make things right by courting the Crown Prince. Convince her that you’re the better choice to send, since if I marry the Crown Prince and he wants to lead his own kingdom and not ours, that will leave you next in line to the throne. That’d be her worst nightmare, right?”

It stings, but she’s right. She’s right, and the more you think about it, the better of an idea it seems – not just will you get the dramatic exit you would make sure you get regardless, but with a big enough scene, Prince Yunho wouldn’t want to go anywhere near your sister, nor would any other potential suitors from all three kingdoms.

“…and then I wreak as much havoc as I can in one night.” You finish her train of thought for confirmation, and she nods slowly. Who knew your penchant for disruption would ever be useful?

“Then we both win, no?”

“I don’t need to do this to win, though,” you point out. “I could get what I want without bothering. What’s in it for me?”

She rolls her eyes, folding her arms crossly. “Can’t do one favour for your older sister before seeing yourself out, huh?”

“Can’t give anything in return to the brother you’ll never see again?”

 She bites the inside of her cheek. “Alright. I’ll try and organise you a safe place to stay after it all goes down. The court still listens to me, I’m sure I can get a holiday house. I’ll say you’re my housekeeper, and then when I leave the palace, I can say I’m going there and go stay with my… my stable boy.”

“Wait, really?” Truthfully, you’re stunned. You were hoping for a memoire of hers to keep with you in your exile, maybe one last home-made meal she used to make when she picked up cooking as a hobby in her teen years. “You’d do all that… for me?”

“I would. I may not understand why being a man is so important to you… but that does not mean I want to lose the only sibling I have. It’d be different if you were married off and moving kingdoms, at least I’d know you’d be happy and well looked after – but exile is not so kind. You deserve this kindness.”

Suddenly feeling indebted to your sister, you crush her in a hug far too tight and too improper for anyone else to see, but she isn’t as surprised as you anticipated. She hugs you back, holding you just as tight, and no more words are needed to express your gratitude, nor her appreciation for you so rarely voiced.

When you finally pull back, you’re smiling genuinely for the first time in far too long.

“Thank you. I’ll make sure this gala is unforgettable – but first, I need to rewrite a letter.”

Dear Your Royal Highness, Princess Mingi of Reuji, I hope this letter finds you well.

I’m sure I don’t need to remind you about the upcoming gala. Are you excited for it, perhaps? Or are you dreading it? You can be truthful with me, Princess. From what I’ve heard, your family sounds a lot like mine. Gatherings such as this are usually such a chore, and keeping your cool in front of such rude guests questioning the very things that make you, you… it’s tiring, isn’t it?

Word does travel. We seem to have a lot in common, I think, so I would love to meet you in person when the date arrives. If your parents are anything like mine, they’ll be warning you to stay away from me, right? Gods forbid we sully their reputation any further. I don’t know about you, but that only makes me even more keen to meet you.

Within this letter I offer you a gift – the custom-made dress my mother forced me to order as a condition to be allowed to talk to Prince Yunho at the gala. That’s a long story there, but the short of it is that my sister does not wish to marry him, and to save her the strife, I am offering to be the one from our family to court him instead. I don’t imagine I’ll actually succeed, especially once I tell him that despite what my family likes to tell people, I am, in fact, a man. Being born otherwise does not change that. Unless the Crown Prince is like us, it will probably not lead to much. If he is… well, wouldn’t that be interesting?

Anyhow, I doubt the dress will fit you, so I included some of the locally sourced, luxury fabric used to make it so your seamstress can adjust it accordingly, if you so choose to wear it. It’d make quite a statement, don’t you think? Considering your reaction to being told only princesses can like princes was to become a princess, I figured such bold statements would bode well with you. It’s a beautiful gown, truly, but alas, it is simply not me. I have a feeling it will look better on you than it ever would on me. In fact, I ordered it with you in mind – I heard you were a fan of the colour pink, and it certainly pleased the Queen to hear I was getting a dress so feminine. I’ll be fine stealing one of my late father’s suits for myself.

I apologise in advance if any part of this letter is presumptuous. If you wish not to interact with me nor wear the dress, that is perfectly fine by me. I hope you enjoy the gala either way.

Yours truly,

His Royal Highness, Prince of Uchia.

Mingi has to read the letter three times before it sinks in that he was really just contacted by the infamous Prince of Uchia. The prince, which he had heard was “actually a princess,” but dressed up in suits and cut his hair and declared himself a man to the public – that’s prince enough as far as Mingi is concerned. He had been so damn curious ever since the word got out, wondering if maybe you were like him, or at least, understood him, but the thought left his mind up until the gala between the three kingdoms was announced.

He was shocked that the King and Queen permitted him to attend, after they had forbidden him from travelling outside the city’s walls ever since he first confessed his crush on Crown Prince Yunho of Choeya, at the tender age of fifteen.

They were visiting so he could meet the Choeyan Princesses, not the prince, but the Princesses simply never caught his eye the same way Prince Yunho did. He was kind, charming, funny, tall – well, taller back then, Mingi briefly wonders if he’s now caught up to him or if Yunho towers over him still – and everything Mingi could dream of… except that he was a man.

It didn’t strike Mingi as a problem, back then. After all, he had travelled to meet potential suitors, see their chemistry, court them, and that is exactly what he planned to do, until he realised just how much of a problem that actually is.

“Mother… I think marriage doesn’t so bad after all.”

“Really now? That’s wonderful news darling, which princess caught your heart, mm?”

That was the last time Mingi remembers his mother calling him darling.

“Actually… it’s the prince.”

“The prince?”

“Prince Yunho. I really like him, Mother, I’m–“

“You’re delusional, is what you are.”

He often wonders what would’ve happened if he never said anything. If he feigned interest in one of the princesses, got along with them well enough, and got married like everyone else wanted. Everyone else but him. Would it have been easier, to not have ever been cast aside? Or would it have been harder, to keep a secret and live a lie? Would the way his heart beat for Yunho have ever gone away? He still thinks about him now, years later, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing him at the gala and seeing if that spark he felt between them was real or just part of his imagination.

Because when he thought back to the moments they had spent together, the long sparring matches or chess games – both of which, he was no real competition for Yunho, but he couldn’t say he minded losing too much when the other boy would pat his shoulder and tell him he did well and offer to go again, obviously going easier on him so he could feel good about winning, and it worked. He knew what Yunho was doing, but it still worked, not because he actually felt better at sword fighting or chess, but because it meant that Yunho wanted him to feel better, and Mingi was sure he would give Yunho anything he could ever want from him.

The look in his eyes back then, the mischievous sparkle when he had him at sword-point or checkmate, or the warmth when he praised him for being able to beat him when it was too obvious he let it happen, they made Mingi feel something. Something he hadn’t felt anywhere else, something that had been described to him hundreds of times on paper and out loud.

“But Mother, I don’t get it. All those things you said about love, I feel those with Prince Yunho more than any of the princesses I’ve met, I really like him and–“

“Only princesses like princes, Mingi. Not princes. Princes like princesses, and you are a prince, are you not? So you will turn around, rid your mind of the thought and never bring this up again.”

Little Mingi scrunched up his nose. Like all teenagers do when being told they can’t do something, he figured he would do exactly that no matter what anyone said – that being, in this case, loving Crown Prince of Choeya, Jeong Yunho.

“I think I’d rather be a princess, then.”

He had stormed out that day, prideful and stubborn as ever, and truthfully? He doesn’t regret it at all, not anymore. He spent enough years regretting it, crying himself to sleep over the parents who detested him and the boy who he could never have. He’s older now, wiser, and he knows better – if his parents would detest their son over who he fell in love with, is their love even worth anything anyway? Is it really love if it’s conditional? Hiding may feel safer, be safer, but he no longer wants to hide. He wants to be heard, seen, witnessed – maybe he foolishly hopes Yunho will catch wind of it and reach out to him. Or maybe it’s just been far too long since he’s got to truly make a scene.

What better way to prove that than wearing the prince’s dress to the gala? Mingi doesn’t know you well, but from what little he’s gathered from rumours and from your letter, he decides he likes you. Maybe he just likes the idea of you, considering you’ve never met, but he has a good feeling about you. Someone kind enough to make him a dress, but someone so bold, even bolder than him, daring to make such a statement to be who they are… it’s hard not to admire such gall. He wants to be more like you, he decides. Playing princess was a good start, but he needs to make a bigger statement. He needs to be louder, speaking over those speaking over him, instead of playing docile in his defeat – and that starts with you, the gala, and this dress.

He isn’t used to sneaking around much, but he figures now is a good time as any to start – his palms are sweaty and everything feels twitchy as he tries to duck through the castle unnoticed, and he stutters when he tries to explain to the tailor he chose what he wants fitted and that he’d pay for her silence, but he does it in the end, and the thrill it gives him is exhilarating.

It helps that the dress is absolutely gorgeous, too. He doesn’t stop grinning the whole time the tailor takes his measurements, unable to hide his excitement at the thought of wearing it – and meeting you. Talking with you, just for a night, for once in his life since that fateful day feeling normal around someone else – he briefly wonders if his parents would allow him to wed you, considering how people still see you as a princess, and what better fit for the man that calls himself a princess than the “woman” who calls himself a prince?

No, no, he’s getting ahead of himself, he realises, blushing at how far that thought had gotten. It has been years since he’s genuinely gotten to consider the possibility of a romance, but he figures he should slow down until he meets you at the very least. Just one step at a time. He takes in a deep breath, takes out a fresh sheet of parchment, and grabs his trusty quill.

Dear Your Royal Highness, Prince of Uchia, it was lovely to hear from you.

I will not hide the truth from you; I have been intrigued with your character ever since I first heard of the wayward princess calling himself a prince. I wondered if maybe, you were just like me? Well, I do not call myself a Princess as a woman, but simply as an act of defiance, so I suppose we’re different there, but I will happily go along with your plan of defiance and take this gift with much gratitude.

I wasn’t completely dreading this gala, not really – I am trusting you with this secret, but I was mostly just excited to meet Prince Yunho again. I have not seen him in many years. I do not know if he is like us – we had some sort of connection when we met, but before I could ask him if he felt the same, we were torn apart. I have not been able to see him since. Now, however, I am counting down every day towards this party – I can barely conceal my excitement to meet you. For the first time, it feels like someone understands me.

I sent the garment to my tailor the first thing after reading your letter. It’s gorgeous, I’m honoured to have such a gift – but that would leave you without a custom piece for the gala, and I could not accept that. With this letter I am sending you a suit made especially for you, although without your measurements, it likely won’t fit, so I followed your lead and included some fabric as well. I hope it’s to your liking; I may have been presumptuous as well, and made our outfits match.

I am aware of how this may come off. But I figured I will ask anyway if you would be my date at the gala. I think we would make a good pair. I hope you think so, too.

I doubt any reply will arrive before the gala anymore, though, so I suppose I will hear your response in person. It’s alright if you say no. I look forward to meeting you regardless.

Sincerely,

His Royal Highness, Princess Mingi of Reuji.

The night of the gala.

As much as you wished to reply to Mingi’s letter, he was right – it wouldn’t reach his kingdom in time. The suit he sent you was positively beautiful, the perfect partner piece to the dress you sent him, in the same style but opposite colours – black and red to match his ivory and pink, the embroidered patterns and glittering jewels mirroring the dress’s patterns. Truly the most stunning garment you had ever laid your eyes on, and all the more meaningful that he had you in mind when designing it.

The tailor certainly had questions, but nothing the right price couldn’t dissuade – after all, a humble but talented tailor that didn’t work for the castle always dreamed of taking work for royals, who could possibly refuse? Even if it was for the estranged prince.

Since, you had kept it hidden somewhere your mother nor the servants would ever find it – with the stableboy that had won your sister’s heart. You gave him your blessings in private, and he wished you well in turn.

Everything led up to now. All the secret letters, the gowns, the planning, the sneaking around and colluding with your sister to buy enough time to change into the suit and make it to the carriage before your mother could see you. The stableboy ended up a more valuable asset to your plan than initially thought, getting you your own carriage to sneak into, your sister feeding your mother the fib of leaving early to meet the Crown Prince and win his heart.

You’d certainly try, just for the hell of it – just to humiliate your kingdom further when you try to court him as a prince. You wonder how he would react to that, though you suppose it didn’t seem like it would be the first time Prince Yunho was courted by a prince.

The Choeyan Royal Family run the gala, the richest and most influential of the three powers, and when you arrive at the castle it sure does not disappoint. Tall stone spires shrouded in ivy and flowers, and yet – not a single stone brick out of place, not a tendril or vine out of place, falling perfectly symmetrically  on the sides of every archway and fireflies dancing around them. How such a feat was achieved is beyond you, but you marvel at the view nonetheless.

Stepping inside, the interior is just as impressive as the exterior, polished marble floors and stairs, art on every available surface, and the biggest jewelled chandelier you’ve ever seen above your head. It speaks louder than words of the success Choeya has accumulated, just comparing it to the castle back in Uchia; you start to see why everyone is so hellbent on marrying into the Choeyan lineage. It would probably help your kingdom immensely if you could actually succeed in what you told the Queen you would do, the allyship could bring so much good to your people, the people you swore to protect – but what have those people done to protect you? Perhaps there is only so much a commoner can do against the word of a Queen, but either way you don’t feel too bad about burning the bridge between you and Choeya tonight. You’d be exiled by morning anyway, and your sister is determined on her stableboy.

You’re gazing up at the kaleidoscope of lights in wonder when you hear a deep voice clear itself behind you, and only then do you notice the strange looks of the guests around you – for once, not fixated on you, but rather, behind you.

Turning around with curiosity tugging at the corners of your lips, you set your sights on a tall, broad figure with soft eyes and plush lips, donning a bejewelled prince’s crown and the very dress you ordered yourself, the silky fabric hugging his waist then flowing all the way to the ground and trailing behind him. He’s curled into himself nervously, offering you a shy smile as he curtseys low, polite, then meets your eyes again, brimming with excitement.

“Princess Mingi,” you breathe out, smile widening. You almost forget to bow in response, about to curtsey back out of habit before you realised that you are not, in fact, being forced to wear a dress this time. You still wear the tiara of your birthright, but it’s liberating, proudly presenting yourself as you are and defying the rules like this, and you notice the way Mingi straightens up a little when you stand back up with your shoulders set and head held high – partially to look up at him towering over you, partially because of your newfound confidence from your expression and your absolutely stunning date. “My answer is yes; I would love to be your date tonight. You look ethereal.”

“And you look incredibly handsome.” His voice is far deeper than you expected, and any jealousy it would make you feel is washed away by how it turns your knees to jelly. He can’t stop smiling, wide and gummy and showing too much teeth for any royal to consider it proper, but it takes your breath away. “I confess I have been thinking about this moment non-stop since I received your letter.”

“And? How is it, now that it’s happening?” You prompt, absolutely buzzing at just the sight of him. Him, a man, a princess, a Reujian, in a traditional Uchian dress, and positively thrilled about it.

“Exciting.” he admits, taking a step closer to you. He offers you his arm and pausing in confusion earns you a raised brow. “What is it? Surely you’re not bothered by the gendered etiquette we use? If you’d prefer, I can take your arm instead, but…”

He giggles softly, gently placing his large hand atop your head, slowly enough for you to move away if you so wished. You don’t.

“Yeah,” you chuckle in response, getting his message loud and clear. “Suppose I’m a little too short for that to work well, huh?”

The Princess shrugs, and you’re amazed at how he manages to seem both awkward and easy-going at the same time. “We could try-“

“No worry,” you insist, stepping closer to him and taking his arm gracefully, just happy to have a point of contact between you. Enough to ground you, remind yourself that this is real, he is real, and live in the moment for the night while you still can. “I’m fine with this. You’re right, I’m sick of people telling people what a prince or princess can or can’t do.”

Mingi seems pleased with that, whisking you past the gaggle of whispering party guests and onto the dance floor, long before anyone else has started dancing, the live orchestra only just getting started – but that doesn’t deter him, gloved hands finding your shoulder and your hand, yours taking his waist and following his lead. You’ve never danced the gentleman’s part in a ballroom dance with a partner before, only watched longingly and tried to learn the steps by yourself in the privacy of your room, but Mingi is a natural dancer. He leads you through it, twirling himself around and giggling bashfully at how the dress twirls around with him, and when you pull him back in, chest to chest, his breath hitches at the proximity. You can feel him this close, feel his pounding heartbeat, and it’s almost like you can feel everything he’s feeling like this, too. Like you’re on the same page, like he can feel you too – he’s a complete stranger, yet you feel closer to him in this moment than anyone you have ever known.

“You’re quite the talented dancer,” you hum, getting more in the rhythm of it – you truthfully expected to be more bothered with all the scornful eyes boring into your skull, more spiteful, but all you could focus on was the man right in front of you in all his beauty and natural talent, swaying with your arms around him. “You do this kind of ballroom dancing often?”

“Kind of,” he replies a little bashfully, “Never with a partner. I just watched a lot, practiced with my hat stand in my room…”

“Me too!” You gasp, grinning at the mirrored experience. “Well, not with a hat stand, just the air – I’m not sure which is more amusing, though.”

Mingi’s stare bores into you in place of a reply, and at first you think it’s something you said, until he blinks twice and shakes his head, like he’s snapping himself out of it. “Apologies,” he mutters quickly, “But your smile is simply breathtaking, I find myself at a loss for words. Um– right, the dance– I think the hat stand is more embarrassing, personally. You can laugh if you want, I don’t mind.”

How he manages to seem so shy and confident at the same time is beyond you, but if there’s one thing that you’re sure of it’s that you find it incredibly charming. As far as first impressions go, he’s definitely won the grand prize in your book. When was the last time someone has treated you with such casual attention? Made you feel so normal?

“A charmer, are we?” You tease, but you can’t hide the way you only smile wider at his sweet words. “I do hope I’m at least more entertaining of a dance partner than a hat stand, though.”

“Of course!” Mingi exclaims, as if he thinks you would be genuinely threatened by the dancing abilities of a hat stand. “You’re very graceful.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle, leaning forward to rest your head on his chest. You’re completely relaxed, the heavy weight of anticipation from earlier melting away in Mingi’s arms. It feels right, not just because of your similarities in status and identity, but simply the warmth he regards you with that only makes you want to return it tenfold. Is this what falling in love feels like? You never thought it could happen so quickly, that being merely a thing of fairy tales, but you can’t deny the magnetism between you that has nothing to do with him being a boy princess or you being a prince without the parts. If Mingi had shown up in a suit, addressed as a prince, and still treated you the same, you don’t doubt you would’ve been just as enamoured, and that isn’t as alarming as you thought it’d be. It feels… normal. Like it only makes sense that you’re already falling for a man like Song Mingi, like it is inevitable.

You wonder how this must look from the outside – the two outcasted royal children, dancing together, wearing the ‘wrong’ things, dancing the ‘wrong’ way, sharing what seems like an intimate moment in the middle of the dance floor. It’s only now that you’re not mesmerised by Mingi’s features and hear the pounding of his heartbeat – from you or from all the negative attention, you aren’t sure – does the sick sense of satisfaction finally start creeping in, childishly poking your tongue out at an old woman giving you a particularly scandalised look and giggling at how she immediately turns away and starts muttering something to her husband.

“What are you giggling at, my prince?” he asks, and you feel it rumbling in his chest with your head laid there. It’s grounding, and you find yourself dreading letting go with each passing moment.

You tilt your head in the direction of the judgemental old lady with a scoff. “Look at them, princess. They’re quivering in their boots at the very sight of us. We disgust them.”

Mingi’s grip on your shoulder and hand tighten, steering you in the other direction almost protectively. “Don’t look at them, then.” He moves his hand from your shoulder to your chin, lightly tilting your face up to meet his. “Just look at me.”

“That wasn’t a complaint.” His lips fall into a surprised ‘o’, which is almost as endearing as finding out he practiced dancing with a hat stand. “We disgust them, and that feels good. If being ourselves makes their blood boil, then I hope they keep boiling until it scalds their very skin. Is it not satisfying?”

“Why would it be satisfying?” Mingi asks quietly, not able to meet the crowd’s gazes for too long, even with more couples making their way to the dance floor, he can’t escape all the eyes on him. “What’s satisfying about knowing your very being is repulsive?”

“Repulsive to them,” you remind him, your turn to cup his face and pull his attention away from the bystanders. “The same people who make our lives so difficult. The kind of people that are so averse to anything that isn’t them that they have to be hateful… they deserve to be repulsed, I think. So if we’re so repulsive, I will take pride in it, as I have no interest in earning the approval of those who don’t deserve my effort. Is that not why you became a princess?”

Mingi gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “I became a princess as an act of teenage rebellion. I stuck with it to prove a point but – while I refuse to feel shame about it, I don’t think I’ve ever been truly proud, not really. Not until I wore this dress, I think. Not until I met you.” He smiles, and when he looks back at the disapproval around him, he doesn’t shy away. “You’re right. They don’t deserve my effort to be palatable. I hope they boil in their misery, too.”

You can hear what they’re saying about you. Uncouth, unheard of, unnatural – who allowed them to sully their kingdom’s names like this? Who do they think they are? There is something wrong with them. They’re multiplying. Keep them away from the children!

In truth, despite the front you would wear as much as you could, those words always did hurt, but within Mingi’s warm embrace, they ricocheted right off you. After all, you finally had proof they were wrong – you’re not the only different one out there. You have someone.

Your little reverie is shattered by the shrill voice of your mother crying out the name you abandoned, shoving past party guests to get to you two in the centre – and when she sees you, the chalice of wine she was carrying slips from her grasp and clatters to the ground.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demands, anger boiling over the edges and cascading down to her trembling fists. “I told you young lady, you had one chance, and you were to court the Crown Prince–“

“Man,” Mingi interrupts, and the Queen whips up to glare at him, appalled at his nerve to cut her off.

“Who do you think you are, boy–“

“Young man,” Mingi corrects calmly, “Not young lady.”

You’ve stopped dancing now, so when your mother crosses the line of your personal space and pulls you off Mingi rather ungracefully and steps up to him rather threateningly, Mingi takes a step back.

“You don’t tell me how to speak to my own daughter, you miserable crossdresser. Now get out of my sight.”

Mingi briefly makes eye contact with you, uncertain, and you’re not sure what he sees in your expression – you’re not sure if you’re pleading for him to stop or keep going, frozen under the pressure – but he seems to find his answer there, turning back to the Queen.

“Son.”

“Guards!” she bellows, calling the attention of everyone who wasn’t already staring uncomfortably at the altercation, even the members of the orchestra quieting in caution. “Get this man out of here, he is disrespecting the royal family–“

“He is the royal family,” the nearest guard says slowly, stepping forward carefully. “With all due respects, Your Majesty, you are not the only royals in attendance. We can only take orders from Choeyan royalty.”

She’s fuming, which would usually strike a chord of fear in you – today instead it’s glee. You have never seen your mother look so powerless.

You try to make a break for it with the Princess while she’s distracted arguing with the guard, but she catches your arm, giving you one of the most furious glares you’ve ever seen from her – and you’ve seen a lot of furious glares from her.

“Yes, mother?” you ask as daintily as you can, wearing a saccharine smile you were sure her and everyone else spectating could see was as genuine as thieves’ gold.

“You. Said,” she starts slowly, voice shaking in her desperate attempt to not start a screaming match in the middle of a gala between three kingdoms, “that you would wear a dress and court the Crown Prince–“

“I promised I would get the seamstress to make me a dress, not that I would wear it.” You grasp Mingi’s hand, pulling him back to your side. “Isn’t it gorgeous? I think it suits his long legs better than mine“ – she scowls your birth name again, but you continue without paying her any mind – “and I’ve yet to see the Crown Prince. I was just sharing a dance with a princess, since when was that disallowed?”

“That is no real princess,” the Queen spits, glaring directly at him. “That’s a prince playing dress-up.”

“No, I’m the prince playing dress-up whenever I put on your silly dresses. But you’re right,” you add on the end before she can continue, earning Mingi a shocked tilt of his head in your direction, “I have a Crown Prince to court. Guards, do you know where his Highness, Prince Yunho is?”

The Choeyan guards point you towards the refreshments table before your mother could get another word in, and you tug Mingi along into the sea of people without giving her the chance to, weaving in and out of as many circles of people as you could to shake her off your tail. It works rather smoothly, her continually being stopped by all sorts of nobles trying to get in an important word with Her Majesty herself.

As it turns out, finding Prince Yunho wasn’t very hard – not just from his extravagant crown, but much like the Princess, he towered over most of the crowd around him, standing tall and regal, the very image of princely masculinity – everything you wanted to be, everything the world wanted Mingi to be. You have never been more ready to publicly make a fool of yourself.

Waltzing right up to him rather determinedly, the Crown Prince notices you right away, and only a split second later, your company. He immediately loses the remaining words in whatever sentence he was saying to a group of noblewomen next to him, murmuring a brief apology to them before taking long strides to meet you both.

“Mingi.” His eyes linger on the Princess, then flicker to you. “And- you must be the Prince of Uchia?”

You bow before him, giving him a cheeky wink on your way back up. “That’d be correct. It’s an honour to meet you, your Highness.”

“You as well, I’ve heard a lot about you. You look amazing tonight. And…” He turns to Mingi expectantly.

Mingi seems torn on whether to bow, curtsey, or crush his old friend in a hug, but when he fumbles with his words for a second too long, Yunho beats him to it, pulling him into an embrace that has the partygoers all around you gasping in astonishment. You wish they could just turn around and not scrutinize every action any of you made, but Yunho nor Mingi seemed to pay them any mind.

“I thought I’d never get to see you again.”

Mingi is frozen completely still, but it’s no brief embrace, either – Yunho stays there until Mingi melts into his touch and carefully hugs him back, burying his face in his shoulder. “Yunho… I missed you too.”

They stay there for a moment longer before Yunho finally pulls back, beaming brighter than all the crystalline lighting hanging above you. “You’ve– You’ve grown taller! More handsome, too.”

Nothing could stop the flush colouring Mingi’s cheeks and ears at that, turning away at the intensity of looking at him – only to settle his gaze on your knowing smirk, which only deepens the shade of scarlet adorning his face. Seeing him so flustered is a real treat, and you only wish you could have had more time with him before reuniting him with the man he obviously still has feelings for.

It doesn’t upset you though, not really. You’re happy for him, and you’re happy you at least got to be his date for the night. It’s a night you’re sure you will never forget, and you’re immensely grateful to him for it.

“U-Um,” he pauses to clear his throat, gathering his courage. “You too. Both the taller and more handsome parts. It’s really… been a while, hasn’t it? Uh– the Prince has something to say, though, before we catch up.”

“Huh?” He nudges you forward, and it takes a second for what he’s expecting you to do to click. Oh. Right, the favour for your sister, the promise you made your mother – courting the Crown Prince. It’s now or never; time to throw this party into chaos the three kingdoms will be talking about for years to come. The cataclysm of your life and possibly the future of Uchia as you know it.

Whirling back around to Yunho with your most bedazzling smile, hyperaware of the noblewomen that were staring daggers at you, you ask him.

“Prince Yunho of Choeya, are you interested in men?”

The gasps you get in response are louder than all the previous ones you’d heard that night, the most shocked, the most scandalised. Exactly what you wanted to hear – exile be damned, the Queen would never recover from this. Her entire family name would never recover from this, and that is precisely the legacy you intend to leave, for your sister’s sake and your own spite.

Mingi evidently did not expect you to be so forward with your approach, jaw hanging open and eyes flitting between you and Yunho in disbelief – but you don’t miss the way they linger on Yunho longer, bated breath waiting for his response. Yunho seems equally taken aback, glancing not just you and Mingi, but all the party guests around you and their looks of varying degrees of disapproval, all centred on you two. Not him.

Your mother finally finds you among the sea of people – suppose all she had to do was follow the condemning glares and muttering – and steps between you and the Crown Prince, plastering on the fakest of apologetic smiles you know are exclusively for the public. A well-rehearsed façade that speaks volumes to the commonness of her insincerity.

“Sincerest apologies for my daughter’s outlandish behaviour, I assure you she is just–“

“Yes, I do like men, actually.”

The orchestra stops completely.

He didn’t even say it that loud but somehow the entire castle seemed to hear, everyone falling silent with surprising quickness, and for once, your mother is truly, genuinely, speechless. Possibly the most genuine thing she’s ever been.

Yunho grins, that same beaming grin he wore when he met you and Mingi again. He loops a strong arm around each of you possessively, standing tall and with his head held high in defiance – in direct contrast to how Mingi shrinks into his side, bracing for the metaphorical impact. You though, you gawk at him in amazement, clearly expecting some sort of negative response, a conflict and a swift exit to leave him with Mingi – but you can’t say you aren’t pleased with this turn of events.

“These two? They’re with me. If you lay your eyes on them, let it be with respect.”

Oh, you are definitely pleased with this turn of events.

You can’t believe your eyes; the way with just a few sentences, all the looks on the crowd’s faces changed, brows unfurrowing and looking at you with a new curiosity and intrigue rather than warped in distaste – so quickly? So soon? Is that the power of the Crown Prince, the only suitable heir to the most powerful throne out of three kingdoms while the King is rumoured to be on his deathbed – a lifetime of prejudice, gone with just a few words?

Upon closer examination, you realise what’s written on everyone’s faces is hardly awe, but fear. A special kind of fear, a kind of fear you know – the fear of doing something wrong. The fear of stepping a single toe out of line, and suffering consequences, whether it be reputation, possessions, or worse.

Yes, that is the true power of the Crown Prince of Choeya.

“Well? Were we not in the middle of a party?” Yunho questions loudly, clear voice ringing through the castle and just challenging anyone to step up to him. “Go on, start the music again, dance, mingle. There is nothing for you to see here.”

Just when you think people will finally do exactly that, Yunho decides he isn’t done with his spectacle. He tugs the two of you closer, earning him a gasp from Mingi which he quickly covers with his lips, a kiss that lingers, his eyes half open to glare at whoever was bold enough to keep staring, and Mingi hasn’t even caught his breath before Yunho pulls away and leans down to kiss you.

His lips are soft, warm.

It’s the only thing your brain can process with it whirling so wildly, and it’s over as soon as it starts, the only proof that it happened being the lingering warmth on your lips and the way the partygoers finally stop blankly staring and hustle to move away and avoid eye contact. They can’t look, but they can’t not look either, sneaking stunned looks in your direction before quickly looking away as soon as Yunho even so much as blinks at them.

“Come on,” Yunho insists, breaking the shocked silence between the three of you, and tugging you away towards the stairs.

“Where- Where are we going?” You manage to get out, finally coming to your senses enough to form words again, but the Crown Prince’s pace only quickens. With no idea what to think of any of it, your words are hardly in protest, hurrying along to keep up with him. “What about your father, what will he think?”

“Have you seen him all night? The rumours are true, he’s bedridden with illness and has been for a while now. I am running the kingdom in his stead.” At the top of the spiral staircase, he tugs you down a corridor and around a corner, you and Mingi barely able to exchange bewildered glances as you’re dragged along. He speaks of his father’s illness so casually, to foreign powers no less – such would be considered weakness by any other member of the royal court. Just how much is he risking be being so open with you two – how much is he risking by pulling the stunt he just did?

“Where am I taking you? Away from that stuffy party, and those stuffy people, all of it. I thought it’d be refreshing, having people from other walks of life over to mingle and gain new perspectives on the world – but all anyone wants to gain is power and status at the cost of others. The only breaths of fresh air in this godforsaken palace right now, are you.”

A couple more staircases later, the three of you finally end up on a balcony, high above the party beneath you, and Prince Yunho finally lets go of your hands with a sigh, leaning back on the stone railing. He gives you the most sheepish look you’ve seen from him all night, and it’s uncharacteristically cute for how charismatic he had been the rest of the night.

“Apologies,” he says at last, knowing the two of you were likely waiting on him to explain, well, everything. What this means. Whatever it means. “I got carried away trying to make a statement. I think you two do it better, though.”

Mingi finally speaks up, carefully leaning on the railing next to him. “Is that all that was, then? A show?”

He’s hopeful, it’s written all over his face all the way down to the way his hands can’t keep still, rubbing the details on his dress mindlessly, the way he’s practically holding his breath. He must have been waiting for this for a long time. There is so much left unresolved between the two, and here you are, spectating.

“Should I go?” You ask awkwardly, not wanting to impose on their reunion, but Yunho grabs your wrist as you turn to leave.

“No,” he assures firmly, not leaving any room for doubt in his voice. “Stay.”

“Okay.”

Mingi gulps. Yunho stares at the ground and bites his lip, and the palpable tension is driving you insane a lot quicker than you have the patience for.

“Oh just say it out loud already, you’ve been in love since you were boys! What do you need me here for?!”

You realise Yunho’s grasp on your wrist never loosened, only gripping firmer at your outburst, abruptly tugging you forward before you could turn away again. You’re close, intimidatingly so, and you almost think he’s going to kiss you again, but he doesn’t. From up close you get to examine every detail of his perfectly sculpted face while he waits for – whatever it is he’s waiting for, whatever it is he’s looking for in your eyes.

He’s beautiful, you think. Too beautiful for a world like this. Just like Mingi.

“You’re right,” he admits, breath fanning over your face, looking at you and not Mingi. You’re not sure why he isn’t looking at Mingi when he says this. “But you… you’re incredible. You and everything you stand for. The courage you had, coming up to me like you did tonight.”

You can’t help but shy under the praise, and the way he says it with all seriousness. The way he says it after outright confessing his feelings for Mingi, as if the two facts had equal importance. Your heart quickens at the implications. “Oh… wow. Thank you.”

“I want to get to know you more,” he continues, then finally turns to Mingi, gently taking his hand. Cautiously, unlike his unrivalled bravado from earlier. “And… I get the feeling our Princess does too.”

“I– I do!” Mingi confirms, eagerly stepping forward and taking your remaining hand in his free one, joining the three of you together. “I didn’t think– I didn’t think there was a point in hoping for anything with Yunho. But you…” The warm flush returns to his cheeks under the torchlight, but he doesn’t lose his resolve this time, squeezing your hand. “…I hoped about you. Since the day I got your letter. I hoped, if our kingdoms see me as a prince, and you as a princess, then maybe they would allow us to marry. And if they saw I was marrying a ‘princess’, I could be the heir again, and when its my turn to rule– I never wanted to rule, but if I did, I could fix all this. Make things right. It’s… presumptuous, I know, but–“

“You do tend to be presumptuous at times,” you cut in teasingly, recalling his letter. “But I’d be lying if I said I don’t find it endearing. Or that you’re wrong, really.”

He seems to light up at that; perhaps it’s just the reflection of the fireflies, but his eyes really do sparkle – and then he acknowledges Yunho again, deflating slightly. “I’m– I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Wanting to marry him? I’m the last person who would fault you for following your heart, Mingi.” Yunho stands up straight, intertwining his fingers with each of yours. “But I have a better suggestion. Marry me instead.”

“But–“

“Both of you,” Yunho clarifies, looking at each of you in turn. “Your parents don’t need to approve. Not if you stay here with me. It’ll be a moon at most before my coronation, we could have our wedding shortly after, and no one will be able to refuse.”

“Both of us?” you echo in disbelief, but you can already feel the hope flaring up in your chest at his suggestion. Your history tells you to crush it, suppress it, stomp out that spark – but you don’t want to. Not this time, not when this spark is landing on kindling to a bonfire, hot as ever. “Can we even do that?”

The Crown Prince shrugs. “I’ll be King, then. We can do whatever we want.”

It’s overwhelming. Mingi is overwhelmed, too, so instead of saying anything he grabs Yunho by the collar and pulls him into a passionate kiss; one that is instantly returned with just as much fervour, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. Having the two of them kiss right in front of you is expectedly a little bit awkward, but it’s heart-warming, too, the way they smile into the kiss like they just can’t get enough of each other.

Yunho is hooked, leaning forward for more every time Mingi pulls back, breathlessly laughing against his lips, but he seems to remember your presence when you loosen your grip on his hand. He must like holding hands a lot, you think, based on the way he refuses to let either of you go, and you can’t say you mind. Not when his hands are so warm, soft from the lack of any menial labour, and large enough to completely envelop yours.

He pulls away finally, and to your surprise he pulls both his hands away too – only to hoist you up in his strong arms onto the cold stone of the balcony railing, pinning you there.

“Hey,” Mingi whines, leaning over him to try and shoulder his way into your space too, “He was my date first, and you already stole the first kiss from me.”

“Oh?” Yunho challenges, leaning in closer to you, “Don’t be so demanding to your future King, Mingi. What if I wanted to kiss him first?”

“Wait your turn! Are you seriously pulling rank with me right now–“

“How about we let him decide, hmm?” His breath fans over your face again and its blurring all your senses, but Mingi shoves his face next to his and suddenly those plump lips of his are so close, but he stops inches away to give you room to make your decision.

“You’re both dorks.”

Grabbing each of them by the back of their heads, you pull them in at the same time, faces pressing together as all three pairs of lips meet each other in the centre. It works out a lot better than you expected in the moment, not really expecting it to work at all, but being able to kiss them at the same time makes you unreasonably giddy.

It doesn’t last long, Yunho pulling away when Mingi hungrily presses for more and more of you, the two of you giggling at the little disgruntled noise Yunho makes from being pushed aside. You make quite the show out of it, wrapping your legs tightly around Mingi’s waist to hold him flush against you – and so you won’t fall backwards off the edge – and tangling your hands in his silken hair, careful not to knock off his crown but still pushing it off-center, giving Yunho the same cheeky side-eye he gave everyone else when he kissed Mingi that first time.

Yunho scoffs at this, crowding into your space behind Mingi to cage both of you there, kissing along Mingi’s neck and shoulder and making him shiver against you. Either Yunho knew what he was doing more than you and Mingi or he was really good at pretending, because the way his hands and lips dance across Mingi’s body and the reactions he pulls out of him seem practiced. That, or Mingi is just extremely sensitive to touch, and extremely vocal about it. You’re not sure which possibility has you more heated.

When you finally pull apart for air, you glance over your shoulder down at the party below, and luckily it doesn’t seem like anyone has spotted you in plain sight, storeys above them. “We should take this inside,” you murmur, caressing Yunho’s face, your lips brushing Mingi’s with every word they spoke. “Before someone sees us out here.”

“Let them see,” Mingi growls, pressing himself closer to you, holding you tight against him. “Let them look and ridicule like they always do, let their hatred boil over and know there is nothing they can do in their power to stop it.”

You laugh in his embrace, forehead to forehead. “Princess, I’m sure they’re boiling already, but I was more implying feeling a different kind of warmth beneath our skin that they frankly don’t deserve the luxury of spectating.”

Mingi freezes up at that and blushes wildly, Yunho chuckling against his neck and pressing a soft kiss there. “Glad we were on the same page, at least,” he hums before detaching himself from him, “Unless you’d rather do something else?”

“I-I’ve never–“ he swallows, peeling off of you and letting you hop down from the railing.

“That’s okay,” Yunho soothes, taking each of your hands again and squeezing them reassuringly. “I’ve had a bit more freedom as Crown Prince. If you want, we can wait, or I can lead you.”

It wouldn’t be your first time – there were some select few knights that were attractive enough for you to see past the fact that they saw you as a princess still – but it would certainly be the first time it ever meant anything to you, and your heart is nearly beating out of your chest at the mere thought.

“I want it,” Mingi whispers, his voice getting caught in his throat with just how badly he wants exactly that. “I want both of you.”

“Then both of us you will have, my princess.” Yunho accentuates his promise with a peck on the lips, and you find yourself uncharacteristically shy under their confidence.

“Even though I’m– my– I–“

“I don’t care,” Yunho says simply. “I’m not as attracted to body parts as I am to the people who own them. I’ve brought enough women to my bed to know what I’m doing in that regard, too.”

Ah. You nod slowly in understanding, then turn to Mingi, who just smiles back at you. “I just want to be as close to you as physically possible,” he murmurs, “A-And make you feel good, too. Everything else is irrelevant to me.”

“Thank you,” you breathe out, not exactly sure what you’re thanking them for. They’re already ushering you back inside to follow Yunho to his chambers by the time they tell you that you have nothing to be thanking them for.

Yunho can’t help but grin as soon as the door behind you clicks shut, a certain glint of playfulness and excitement – maybe the tiniest bit of cockiness, too – adorning his features. His room is expectedly spacious, colour-coordinated in navy and gold, but the first thing that catches your attention isn’t the impressive, jewel-encrusted swords mounted on the wall above his bed – but instead, his headboard. Detailed gold frame, taller than the headboards in you or your sister’s chambers, but most notably – glass. Reflective glass.

Crown Prince Yunho’s headboard is a mirror.

You and Mingi notice this at the same time, the curious raise of your brows earning you a chuckle from him.

“I do hope you aren’t that self-conscious,” he hums, the cheeky grin not leaving his face, “because I would love to let you see just how beautiful you are.”

Mingi nearly chokes on air, and if he could get any redder, he would; you almost think he is about to ask Yunho to cover it, or face away, but once he gets his breath back he’s excitedly tugging you towards the massive bed.

“Eager, are we, Princess?” Yunho teases, gently pushing Mingi – who is far too happy to be malleable for him – down onto the bed, remaining standing between his legs so he can look down at him and tilt his face upwards. “I think I like the view of you looking up to me like this.”

Mingi gulps. “I– I can’t say I dislike the view from here either.”

“Do you prefer being on the bottom, then?” you chime in, sauntering over and kneeling before him, resting an arm on the bed and your head on his thigh. Both you and Yunho smirk at the way he looks like his head is about to burst. “Or do you like the view of me on my knees for you, too?”

“You two are going to be the death of me,” he exhales. “Both, both is good, can one of you please just touch me already?”

You grab at his dress to bunch it up on his lap before Yunho grabs both of your wrists and moves to hold them in only one of his hands – a feat that already has you reeling – then uses them to tug you up to your feet, and then back on the bed beside Mingi.

“Rewards come to those who wait.” That playful energy has quickly warped into something darker, but equally as heart-pounding. He must notice this, because when he leans in closer and places your hands in your lap, he pushes you onto your back with only a single finger; you find yourself obeying him without a word. “And trust me, my prince, I can be very, very rewarding. So are you going to be patient for me, or are you going to defy your future King?”

“You really like being the one to call the shots, don’t you?” you blurt out, but you love the way he his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek at your attitude. “Just because you’re going to be in charge of a kingdom doesn’t mean you have to be in charge in the bedroom. What if I wanted a turn, hmm?”

Yunho is quick on the uptake, giving you that same smile that looks far less innocent now than it did out at the gala. “You have to earn that privilege, my prince. So I will ask you again – are you going to be good for me, or are you going to disobey?”

As tempting as it is to disobey him and see what he does next, Mingi looks at you like he’s pleading for you to say no so he can finally be touched already, and the offer of having your turn in charge at a later point is one you cannot refuse. You simply smile back at him, sweet as you can muster.

“I will be good today, sir.”

“Sir,” Yunho echoes, increasingly pleased with himself. “Yes, that’s more like it. Now, stay still. Mingi, climb on top of him.”

“I– Okay.” Mingi doesn’t look incredibly sure of himself, but he definitely is keen either way, the mattress dipping as he awkwardly climbs over you in his haste to please Yunho. His legs sit outside yours, his hands on either side of your head, and when he meets your eyes from his new angle, his eyes widen and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi,” you parrot back at him with a giggle, craning your neck up to peck his lips once. “You’re very cute, you know that?”

He beams from above you, and it doesn’t matter that his head is blocking most of the light above you because his smile is positively radiant enough to outshine them all. “Thanks. I try.”

“Unbutton his shirt,” Yunho orders, tracing a hand down Mingi’s spine, and he is quick to follow, long fingers working at the buttons of your suit. Yunho gives you a warning look as you reach to help him, but you cut him off before he can say anything.

“I’m fine with it up to here,” you state clearly, holding the shirt at its most open without exposing your full chest, leaving a button done in the middle. “I would rather not take it off. After all, I look so good in it, wouldn’t it be a waste? Our Princess gifted me this, you know. Custom made.”

“You do look incredibly handsome in it,” Mingi confirms, returning your affectionate peck. “I’m glad you decided to wear it after all.”

“Very well. That’s still plenty of room to work with,” Yunho nods, understanding your deflection and not pushing it. As your buttons were coming undone, he was slowly undoing the lace on the back of Mingi’s gown, and he seems to finally notice it when Yunho grabs the fabric and starts pulling it down enough to reveal the expanse of his back. He leans over Mingi again, much like when he had him between the two of you and you against the railing, both of them caging you in place, to whisper right next to Mingi’s ear. “Go on then, kiss him. Mark up what’s ours, even, if you’re so inclined.”

The question is directed to you as much as it is to Mingi, checking your face over Mingi’s shoulder for any objection, but you meet him with a smile. “Go ahead, princess. Don’t be afraid to use teeth or leave them visibly.”

Mingi’s breath hitches, looking at you then glancing over his shoulder at Yunho. “Um. How do I…?”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d ask that,” Yunho chuckles, voice rumbling deep in his chest, before attaching his lips to Mingi’s neck and sucking, grazing his teeth against the skin before soothing it over with his tongue. The way he stiffens and gasps beneath him, eyes going wide, has you biting your lip in anticipation. “Like that. Keep doing it and it’ll leave quite the scandalous bruise. How do you like it?”

“I really like it.” He speaks in a hurry, not able to reply fast enough. “C-Can you do it again?”

Yunho nods towards you, breath still fanning over Mingi’s neck. “Try it on him, and I’ll mirror your every action.” Yunho obviously must have been planning this ever since he put you in this position, but you don’t get the chance to wonder how many steps he’s planned ahead.

Mingi wastes no time, diving down to kiss and suck at your neck far less timidly than you expected or were prepared for; the sound that leaves your lips has you heating up with embarrassment – among other things – but it’s mostly drowned out by the way Mingi moans against your skin at Yunho doing the very same to him. For how shy he seemed before, he’s surprisingly shameless; while you bite down on your lips to spare yourself just an ounce of dignity, Mingi keeps humming softly as he kisses down your neck to your chest, Yunho copying his movements down to his upper back.

Getting increasingly excited, he bites down at the soft spot right above your collarbone hard enough to make you whine and buck your hips on instinct, Mingi moaning again when Yunho bites his shoulder hard enough to leave a matching bite mark there.

“You two really like being bitten and marked up, don’t you?” Yunho muses aloud, delicate fingers trailing over the marks he and Mingi both left. “Princess, let me give you a tip.”

His tip isn’t verbal; instead he shifts back on the bed and grabs Mingi’s leg, shoving it between yours so his knee presses up at your core before resuming his position hovering over the both of you. “Now, try that again.”

You already know he must’ve noticed how your body reacted the first time, but you don’t try and fight it when Mingi bites you again and your hips move on their own accord, grinding on Mingi’s leg. He lets out a pleased grunt at the realisation, repeating the action but this time grabbing your hips and pulling you harder against him.

“Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” you breathe out shakily, clutching at his shoulders, conscious of leaving enough space for Yunho’s lips to roam still. “Th-Though, shouldn’t we be focusing on Mingi, sir? It’s his first time after all.”

Yunho clicks his tongue, pulling back to admire his handiwork. “And such, he likely won’t last long. Forgive me for being greedy, darlings, but I want to drag out this moment for as long as you’ll allow me. Besides,” he shoves Mingi’s head down back towards your chest, who obediently doesn’t even need to be told to put his mouth back to work, “He’s just so eager to please us. I hardly hear any complaints from him.”

“I have none, sir,” Mingi confirms, his cheek pressed to your rapid heartbeat, like he can’t break that contact between you even if he needs his mouth to speak. “I could kiss you all day.”

He shudders when Yunho’s hands venture lower, pushing up his dress then caressing his thighs up to his ass. “Have you touched yourself here before, Princess?”

“Ah– y-yes, I have.”

“Oh? Our sweet princess not so innocent after all? And tell me, love, what did you think about when you did?”

You have a feeling he already knows what the answer is gonna be, and the way Mingi dips his head to avoid your gaze confirms it.

“You, sir,” he mumbles, biting his lip as Yunho pressed his clothed hips forward to the curve of his ass. “Sometimes the guards, or this one really pretty advisor, but... it always came back to you.”

Yunho surges forward, pulling Mingi up back to his chest, one hand firmly holding his jaw and the other gripping his inner thigh. “That’s right. Because this ass is mine, isn’t it? Always has been.”

Mingi moans weakly in response, which is adorable considering Yunho didn’t even touch him where he’s aching for it. Wanting to join in on the fun, you grab Mingi’s frankly impressive length with both your hands and squeeze, him gasping and instinctively thirsting into your grip.

“In that case, his cock is mine,” you declare boldly, twisting your soft hands around the head, collecting the wetness gathering there and spreading it across him, drinking in every twitch and detail of his face as he melts under your touch. “How does that sound, mm?”

“Hmm...” Yunho pretends to think about it for a bit as he slips two long fingers into Mingi’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue. “Seems agreeable. Though I do expect you’d be kind enough to share if I so desired it?”

“Of course,” you hum in response, spitting on Mingi’s dick and laughing airily as he whimpers around Yunho’s fingers, effectively reduced to a mess before even reaching the main event. You suppose it’s to be expected, having never done this before, but it’s no less amusing to see just how quickly he crumbles. “I do expect the same, of course. Granted, I may not be able to claim him the same way you can, but I’m sure I can put my hands and tongue to good use.”

“Please,” Mingi whines, a string of saliva connecting his plump, kiss-swollen lips with Yunho’s fingers. “Stop teasing.”

“What did I say about patience, princess?”

He doesn’t get to reply, whatever he was going to say cut off with another sinful sound as Yunho’s fingers finally breached his rim. With the other man not holding him up anymore, he keens forward, bending over until he’s once more hovering over you with arms on either side of you.

He really, really likes kissing, evident in the way he brings your mouths together once more and moans against it as Yunho’s skilled fingers work him open. His lips stutter as the two of you work your hands on him in tandem, him barely able to kiss you back, haphazardly just trying to press his mouth to yours. You can’t keep your hands off him, running them along his sides, his thighs, his back, his neck, and not-too-gently grabbing a fistful of his hair at the back of his neck, greedily swallowing all the pretty noises he makes.

“I‐I'm ready,” Mingi parts from you – barely – to insist, but it only earns him a dark, rumbly chuckle from Yunho. “You can—”

“No, you’re not,” Yunho says simply, continuing his leisurely place and sliding in now a fourth finger.

“Just because it’s my first time doesn’t mean I don’t—”

“Trust me,” Yunho chuckles again, leaning down to kiss the top of his head, “You aren’t.”

He finally works his belt off and pants down with one hand, and it very quickly becomes apparent exactly why; Yunho is huge. Mingi is already impressive enough, much bigger and longer than your limited experience with the guards, but Yunho is thick and heavy, making his large hands looking normal-sized as he strokes himself.

“Oh.” Mingi swallows as he looks over his shoulder, seeing it for himself, eyes blowing wide. “Y-Yeah, suppose you’re right.”

The quick change of mind has you giggling lightly, unable to resist pecking him on the cheek, but he doesn’t even acknowledge it, staring directly at Yunho’s dick.

Yunho hesitates. “If it’s too much we can—”

“No, I want it,” Mingi affirms, pushing back onto his fingers with a newfound determination. “I really want it. I want you. Please.”

You’re content to just watch them and wait your turn, but Yunho seems to notice you resigning yourself to a spectating role, and pulls you back in. He leans over Mingi to kiss you sweetly, just long enough to acknowledge you there still before he pulls away from Mingi completely.

“Princess, on your back. We have to please our dear prince too, don’t we?”

Mingi nods so quickly and intensely his crown slips sideways on his head, which is a cutely messed look on him. You like it, but you have an idea of a look you’ll like even more, taking the crown from him and swapping it with the tiara atop yours. It compliments him far better than it does you, you think, and seeing him wearing what’s so uniquely yours has your heart swelling and the heat between your legs throbbing.

“A tiara fit for a princess, don’t you think?” you muse, and Yunho nods with a smile.

“It suits him. You should see yourself like this, Mingi. You’re a vision.”

He truly is, flushed and thoroughly tousled from his hair to his dress, his hard cock resting heavy on his stomach and dripping onto the expensive fabric. You only wish you could ask a court painter to preserve such a sight, but depending on how he feels about it, you wonder if that could actually be possible once Yunho becomes King.

Shockingly enough, Mingi doesn’t appear embarrassed at all, not this time. He’s now just staring at you, eyes glittering in the warm light of the bejewelled chandelier above, mouth hanging slightly agape.

“It’s perfect,” he murmurs, and you know he isn’t referring to your tiara on him. “So handsome… my perfect prince.”

“You’re right,” Yunho confirms assertively, nuzzling your neck and gently grazing his teeth along it. “Our perfect, pretty prince. Now it’s our time to thank you, hm? For changing both of our lives so drastically in the span one evening. Truly, Choeya will be lucky to have such a wilful King Consort.”

Mingi beams, almost in a daze. “I think we’re the luckiest to have such a perfect partner.”

“That we are.”

Now it’s your turn for your face to burn under the earnest praise and title, dumbstruck smile playing on your lips before you can do anything to stop it. For someone always running your mouth, it renders you positively speechless, and you’re hastily shedding your pants and undergarments to hover over Mingi in just your barely buttoned suit blazer. You’re about to tease him again at how responsive he is before your core has even touched him, but a chuckle from behind you informs you it was the work of Yunho’s long fingers once more.

“Relax yourself for me, princess, or this will be harder for you,” Yunho instructs once he’s satisfied with his prep, pressing his tip to Mingi’s quivering hole.

“I sure hope it’s hard for me,” he blurts out without thinking, and after a beat of silence, the three of you crack up into laughter at the same time. It’s silly, corny, and a little bit unfitting for the mood, but you find yourself endlessly endeared with his humour nonetheless, pressing more and more kisses to his face, neck and chest in between your giggles. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

“Good,” Yunho breathes out slowly, “I don’t want you to hold anything back from us.”

The drawn-out sound he makes at Yunho pushing into him proves he doesn’t plan on it, his body tensing beneath you before catching himself and taking a shaky breath in an attempt to relax.

“That’s it, my love,” you coo, lifting his tiara to stroke his hair softly as Yunho pushes in single inch at a time, giving Mingi plenty of time to adjust. “Just like that. You’re doing so well for us.”

Once fully sheathed, Yunho lets out a throaty groan that’s the first indication of his controlled façade beginning to crack, but he holds himself back from moving just yet.

“Fuck,” he growls, hands digging into your hips rather than Mingi’s as to not overwhelm him while he still gets used to the intrusion and giving you something to focus on in the meantime. “So good for me, princess, so good for us.”

Mingi’s face falls to the side, teeth digging into his bottom lip, but when he opens his eyes he’s met with his reflection staring back at him in crystal clarity, able to see just how thoroughly messed up he is already.

“Oh gods,” he breathes out, “I almost forgot about that. This is why it’s there, isn’t it?”

The wicked grin on Yunho’s face confirms his suspicions, the man still unmoving to give Mingi more space to breathe, but busying his hands with running them all over your body. “Quite the bright one, aren’t you? Yes, I like to make sure I don’t miss a single detail. After all…”

He spreads Mingi’s legs wider apart for a better view in the mirror, pulling out and pushing back in only the smallest amount, but it’s enough to make Mingi’s breath stutter.

“This way, you can see me inside you and you inside our prince at the same time.”

Mingi groans at the mere words, head rolling back on the sheets. “At the same time? Oh gods, if I die here, I’m dying a happy man.”

The two of you giggle at that, Yunho nodding at you to go ahead and sit down on Mingi already, so you wrap a hand around him and line him up to your entrance, sinking down on him incredibly slowly for both you and his sakes.

He’s so tense and wound up you can see it on just about every muscle on his body, and you don’t doubt he’s gripping Yunho like a vice with the way he’s taking deep, controlled breaths behind you. You appreciate the mirror now even more than you initially thought you would – looking to the side allows you to view the taller man situated at your back, and see the way he bottoms out into the man beneath you; the vision alone almost has you as dizzy as the stretch. You can only imagine what Yunho’s would feel like.

“How are you faring, darling?” you ask down at Mingi after a few moments, who’s finally starting to breathe normally again.

“I think… I’m good. You can move now, but maybe start one at a time…?”

Yunho takes his chance as soon as he hears it, his controlled demeanour crumbling under the sensation of Mingi wrapped so tightly around him, and starts very shallowly rocking his hips into him with a low grunt from the back of his throat. It’s a stark contrast to the almost melodious moan Mingi lets out in comparison, his deep baritone voice raising in pitch at the feeling, and it makes you clench around him on instinct despite sitting perfectly still.

“Ah– o-oh gods, that’s heavenly– ngh–!”

His cute, broken-up whines are music to your ears as Yunho steadily ups his pace until he’s no longer fucking just the tip of himself into the other man, but bottoming out completely with each thrust, the movement making Mingi shake enough to give you some sort of friction while waiting for your signal to move. It comes not long later with a desperate grab of your thighs, nails digging into the soft flesh and a broken out “Y-You can– you can– move…!” from the very overwhelmed princess.

Both Mingi and Yunho hiss at the same time when you finally lift yourself up and drop yourself back onto him, gasping at the fullness of how well he stretches you out, but the pleasure from it is white-hot. Repeating the movement again and again, you find both of them grabbing at you in an attempt to ground themselves, but it doesn’t seem to be working well – at least for Mingi, who has his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, body quivering with very thrust and bounce of your hips.

“You’re fucking huge, Mingi,” you moan through gritted teeth, savouring every drag of his generous length against your walls, “S–So fucking good, gods, fuck!”

“Quite the foul mouth you have on you, hmm?” Yunho teases, sticking two fingers in your mouth and turning your head towards the headboard mirror so you can see the way he smirks darkly at you while fucking Mingi still, his other hand intertwined with Mingi’s on the sheets. “One of these days I’ll have to clean it out myself, I think.”

You can’t do much but moan around his fingers and keep rolling your hips into Mingi’s, reaching down to rub at yourself to heighten the feeling of it all, but Mingi is quick to yelp and grab your waist with an almost startling strength.

“Wait– stop– hold on!” Mingi stammers, pulling you off him abruptly as both you and Yunho still to a complete halt, glancing down at him with wide eyes.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Yunho is the first to mutter, pulling out of him completely, but Mingi shakes his head, slumping back down on the bed and covering his face with an arm in embarrassment.

“Sorry. I was really about to come like that and it was just too fast.”

“Oh!” With a smile, you sigh in relief at the reassurance that it was okay, then giggle at how worked up he must be right now. You understand his embarrassment, but truthfully, it’s more complimentary than it is a letdown – you can’t resist teasing him for it, though. “That close so soon? My, my, what ever will we do with you?”

“Tease!” Mingi whines, muffled behind his arm, “It’s my first time, give me a break!”

Yunho chuckles, gently prying Mingi’s arm away. “That we will, princess, don’t worry. I know it must be a lot. Do you want one of us to stop?”

He frowns at that, pouty lips only making him look all the more irresistible. “But… I want to make you both feel good still.”

“Think you can try using your mouth?” you suggest helpfully, not minding to be the one giving it up if it means avoiding any further close calls – as alluring as the thought was, you didn’t want to risk any scares for later. You don’t expect Mingi to nod so eagerly, but he does, and before you can suggest to change positions, he’s already pulling you over his face by your thighs and keening up towards you.

“You’ll have to guide me a little,” he mumbles, “but I want to learn. A-And Yunho, you can… keep going. It feels really, really good.”

The Crown Prince didn’t need to be told twice for that one, repositioning himself to slide right back in and continue the pace where he left off, Mingi’s face instantly contorting into one of only the utmost pleasure. You slowly lower yourself to his waiting tongue with the gentle command to suck, a hand in his hair guiding him to finding your clit, and as soon as your body jolts in response he is relentless. Sloppy and uncoordinated by all means but with enough eagerness to more than make up for it, he holds you there and laps at you enthusiastically, the vibrations of his moans as Yunho continues to pound him sending all sorts of pleasurable waves through you.

“Keep fucking him like that, Yunho,” you pant, grinding against his tongue, “He moans so fucking pretty for us, doesn’t he?”

“The prettiest,” Yunho agrees, brows scrunched tight with tension and a thin sheen of sweat accumulating on his skin that only made him glow under the light of the chandelier. “He’s so fucking tight, too, fuck, if only you could feel this.”

You don’t get to linger on how much you wish you could do exactly that, because Mingi flicks his tongue in a way that has you crushing his head between your thighs, but his muffled groans sound like he’s more than happy to be there. With all the movement and violent jerking of your body, Mingi’s – your? – crown slips off your head, but Yunho’s reflexes are fast enough to catch it and prop it back on.

“A prince needs his crown,” he coos, slowing down to lean forward and kiss your temple while making eye contact in the mirror. Mingi whines pathetically at the change in pace, but Yunho only finds it amusing. “Aw, our sweet princess. Need to come?”

Mingi nods fervently – well, as much s he can from between your legs, so you lift yourself off his face to let him catch his breath. “P-Please, I’m so close!”

“Me too,” Yunho grunts, abruptly snapping his hips forward again and making Mingi cry out as the rapid pace from earlier resumes, the bed shaking in the onslaught of pleasure. Noticing your hesitancy to sit on Mingi’s face again, the princess looking far too blissed out and gone to be of any help right now, Yunho takes the initiative to pull your back to his chest and hold you with one arm, hand diving down to press and rub at your clit roughly. He’s hasty, but a lot more controlled than Mingi’s mouth was, and you find yourself struggling to stay upright if not for Yunho’s steady grip on you.

“Ohh fuck– you’re both so– ngh– I’m gonna– c–“

Mingi’s back arches off the mattress as his voice cuts out completely, writhing and thrashing about as his cock stains the under layers his dress with long ropes of white, over and over until he has no more left to give. The sight is ultimately what sends you over, moaning their names as your high finally crashes down on you, grinding down onto Yunho’s large hand to ride out the wave.

“Fuuuck,” Yunho growls, low and guttural with none of his cool composure left as he pulls out and frantically strokes himself to completion after holding back all this time, spurting his seed across your thighs. You and Mingi watch in the mirror with heavy breaths as he keeps bucking into his fist until he’s twitching from the overstimulation, then finally crumbles back down on his knees, panting.

He looks to the mirror at his side, eyes half-lidded and dark, cursing under his breath again at the vision before him; the two of you thoroughly messed up, sweaty, covered in come and with crowns crooked atop your heads, while he remains almost fully dressed and put together. He flashes you two a hazy smile.

“How about a bath?”

When you aren’t seen for the rest of the gala, no one says a word in protest. When you don’t take your carriage back to Uchia, they don’t wait for you. Neither do the Reujian carriages for Mingi, but neither of you have a problem with that.

When Yunho’s Coronation finally comes, you and Mingi have only seen the start of the beauties Choeya has to offer, from the perfectly sculpted face and body of its King to its beaches and rolling hills – Yunho insists he’ll take the two of you to their mountains someday, maybe he’ll even marry you up there – but you already know you’re going to love every part of it. The less beautiful parts of Choeya, Yunho has already been working hard to fix, getting your input on how to improve the country’s poorer regions and make transportation routes safer for merchants, and you know that things will quickly change under his rule as King.

When that large, jewel-encrusted crown finally is placed upon his head, Mingi slips his hand into yours as you stand by Yunho’s side; while he has yet to announce any plans of marriage to the  kingdom, it’s obvious that the three of you are in separable, and since have already been referred to as the King’s Consorts. While a part of you holds some bitterness at being given the respect you deserve only after being accepted by someone as powerful as a king, you bite that down to make the most of your newly gained privilege and acknowledge that it was your hard work and bravery that got you here in the first place. Almost as if he can read your mind, Mingi squeezes your hand as if to remind you that.

“I now present to you, His Majesty King Jeong Yunho of Choeya.”

The crowd cheers from beneath you, and you and Mingi clap for him too – he turns around and smiles at you from ear to ear, like the two of you make him happier than his coronation ever could – and then he turns back to his people.

“My first act as King is an important one,” he starts, projecting his voice to be heard as far as he can reach. “I hereby declare that anyone has the right to be whoever they want to be, and love whoever they want to love. Anyone who objects this can have a hasty escort to the dungeons.”

Your eyes grow hot with tears threatening to spill, almost unable to believe the dream you’re living in. Finally. Finally. With a quick glance you see Mingi much in the same boat, eyes glossy but unable to keep from smiling so wide his cheeks probably hurt. This is the freedom you’ve been praying for since you were a child, the freedom you had given up on long ago, but it’s here, it’s finally here, and it’s so much better than you could’ve possibly imagined – even with the barely concealed looks of discontent of some of the townspeople on the courtyard below. You couldn’t care less about them; things are changing now, and they’ll either change too, or spend the rest of their lives staring at iron bars.

Yunho turns back to gesture the two of you forward, taking one hand in each. “This is Princess Mingi of Reuji, now of Choeya. He is still a man and you will address him as such.”

He shies a little under the attention, but a reassuring nod from you makes him stand a little taller.

The King introduces you by your name, your real name, not the one your mother forced upon you, loud and clear. “He is also a man, and a prince, and you will refer to him as such.”

He releases your hands, only to reach into the deep pockets of his extravagant royal regalia, pulling out a small box and taking a step back – onto one knee. Opening the box, there are two rings that lie inside, fitted with the very same red and pink jewels from your gala attire. You and Mingi gasp at the same time.

“And I will be marrying them both, if they will have me,” he continues, voice steady and refusing to falter under all the eyes on him. “As they are the loves of my life, and I wish to have them ruling Choeya by my side. Will you—”

“Yes!”

You and Mingi cut him off at the same time, giggling quietly together at your own combined eagerness. Yunho gazes up at you with all the fondness of the world in his eyes, taking each of your hands and sliding the respective rings on and standing back to his full, impressive height, then giving your hand each a kiss.

“Together, we will bring Choeya to a brighter future,” Yunho promises, ending his speech – and with your whole heart, you believe him.

Any future is bright so long as Mingi and Yunho are in it with you.

Dearest Sister, Her Royal Highness, Princess of Uchia.

I miss you. How have you been? I heard the news about your upcoming coronation, congratulations. While the news of Mother’s sudden passing was most unfortunate, I do hope you don’t expect much grievance from me. She wasn’t much of a mother to you either, was she?

Times are changing now. I’m sure you’ve heard of Yunho’s coronation by now, I understand if any letter you may have sent simply hasn’t arrived yet. He proposed to both me and Mingi and we said yes. The three of us are going to get married in the Choeyan mountains later this year, and I would love for you to come. You can bring your stableboy, too. Will you marry him, now that you have the freedom to do so? Please do invite me to the wedding if so.

We hope to unite Choeya and Uchia with this marriage, then Reuji will have no choice but to follow suite. May I have your blessing as future Queen, dear sister? We will be able to be family still, and both our kingdoms shall prosper for generations to come.

I would also like to thank you once again for the kindness you offered me before the gala, even though I didn’t have to use it. With this letter I am sending gifts of my gratitude – please take them. You and your stableboy are always welcome in Choeya at any time.

I love you. Long live the future Queen.

Your Brother, His Royal Highness, King Consort of Choeya.

Dearest Brother, His Royal Highness, King Consort of Choeya.

The bitch is dead, you and I are now free. I shall see you at the wedding – whichever of ours comes first.

Long live the King.

With love,

Your Sister, Her Royal Highness, Queen of Uchia.

“What, that eager?” he scoffs, and it’s almost shocking how cocky he sounds so naturally, compared to the non-confrontational flounder he had when you first met and the desperate attempts to be at least relatively civil since, but evidently, he has had enough of holding back. The prospect would be a lot more exciting if you had any sort of game plan, or if you were still toying with him like that first night instead of being as genuinely bothered as you are now. 

Though as far as a last-minute game plan goes, pissing Felix off and using his best friend to do it is a pretty damn good one. As good as it’s gonna get, anyway. 

“Yeah, actually,” you admit, doing your damn best to make it sound less like an admittance and more of a sarcastic taunt as you buy time to think of a clever enough response, backing him up without much resistance to the nearest wall, shoving his back against it. The way he seems to have absolutely no complaint with being manhandled around and pliantly letting you do so, has something inside you burning up at the seams. “About as eager as you were in that chair at the Prism, blushing and hard for me. Tell me, Chris, do you like being watched?” 

Testing the waters, you grab his chin and roughly turn it in Felix’s direction, casting a glance over your shoulder to challenge him before turning back to Chan, who still makes no move against you. He doesn’t even lift a hand to push you off or step away. You lean in right next to his ear, his jaw still firmly in your grasp, “Do you like the thought of him watching you? Is that why you’re letting me touch you like this?” 

“No, I just think it’s funny,” he snickers, and you pointedly do not like how smug he sounds when he’s supposed to be easy to fluster. His ears still get tinged with red, but he does a spectacular job acting unbothered and its awfully convincing. “That once again, you’re trying to tease me for being eager when you’re the one who invited me to the show, then up on stage, now this… so, who exactly is the eager one, again?” 

If it wasn’t so infuriating, maybe the giggles that followed would be arguably cute, but you’re more focused on the fact that your metaphorical hold on him is very rapidly slipping. Musicality may be one thing, but you’ll be damned if his meek ass beats you in sheer dominant sex appeal, too. You know he’s at least somewhat into you, surely, as he admitted he liked what he saw from the start and willingly showed up at the Prism, so it can’t just be that. 

Good god, Bang Christopher Chan might have actually just gone and grown a backbone. 

“I don’t know, Chris, I sure haven’t had anyone less than eager be so pliant for me like this, so you tell me.” 

“Why do you want me to act up so badly, huh?” He deliberately swerves your obvious provocation of his English name to keep digging at you. “Did you enjoy getting smacked up by Changbin that much? It’s like you’re just dying to be put in your place.” 

“Oh, you really think you could do that?” 

He shrugs, cocking his head to the side. 

“I could fuck around and find out.” 

There is not a second of hesitation. The conviction in his voice is as clear as it is stupidly, effortlessly hot – he’s clearly ready to put his money where his mouth is, not just that he could but he would. 

You should have given yourself more credit. While it initially seemed like Bang Chan was a difficult man to truly get a rise out of – at least, one that he doesn’t hold back for the sake of being polite – you’re simply just too good at it. Either that, or he isn’t as much of a sweetheart as he appears, which, frankly, would only make things far more entertaining. After all, a provocative asshole repeatedly fighting a backless people pleaser is basically just bullying, but a provocative asshole fighting a provocative asshole? Now that’s a brawl. Meaning you could afford to get a whole lot messier, not limited to the physical kind, and that’s something you haven’t had the chance to do justifiably in a damn long time. 

How exciting. 

“You could. I think the ‘find out’ part will be a lot more fun for me than for you, though. See, why I’m doing this is obvious and simple – I like playing with my food.” You tilt his head this way and that, just to emphasise his place; your plaything. He can’t forget. Not him too. “I’ve always been the type. Getting under your skin, driving you mad, making things hard for you on purpose – in both meanings of the word, that’s my thing – but you? What does letting me have my way with you, gain you, hm?” 

He’s surprisingly quick on the uptake, and you’re starting to realise you may have underestimated him and his wit and will to step up to the challenge in terms of your silly little mind games. He doesn’t take the bait and deny that he is in fact, letting you toy with him – you have half the mind to think he enjoys it, being toyed with. It’s always the leader types who crave to submit – but nothing could have prepared you for the gall of his answer. 

“To see how bad you want me.” 

Felix and Chan have more in common than you initially thought, you notice. Both try so, so hard to avoid conflict, but when you push them far enough, they show a shocking boldness where they don’t pull their punches. Or maybe – and your work might be cut out for you if it is – maybe they are pulling their punches still, and you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg. It’s positively maddening, and you don’t even know if he knows just how much, only that you need to take him down a notch. 

Pettily, you surge forward like you’re about to kiss him, but right as your lips are about to meet and you feel him crane forward, you pull back, leaving him uselessly floundering in the air for a split second before opening his eyes in confusion. 

“To see how bad I want you, hm? Please, you should see how badly I wanted Felix just before. He sure seems thrilled about it, doesn’t he? What did I just tell you about how I like playing with my food, sweetheart?” 

“I do have a pretty sweet heart, don’t I?” he muses, his honey voice even sweeter, “Not you, though. You’re too good at bringing out the worst in people.” 

When he takes a glance past you back at Felix, though, and sees Felix’s steely gaze staring right back at him while both of your bandmates bicker endlessly around him, your initial suspicion becomes all the more obvious. That last part sounded far too genuine, far less teasing, and you get the feeling he isn’t entirely or even mostly talking about Felix. 

He just can’t keep up the nice guy act around you. 

“You want to make freckles jealous. Isn’t that right?” His face falters instantly, something that doesn’t slip past you when holding him so close, tells you all you need to know. Putting the pieces together, it makes even more sense in hindsight – what made the Prism so different to that first bumbling encounter he had with you? Felix. It always comes back down to the golden boy, apparently, because Chan would do anything to seem like he’s got his shit together in front of him, and you think that sneaking off with him earlier made Chan more jealous than he’d want to acknowledge. “You’re letting me because he’s watching, and you’re still watching him to see if he gets just as jealous as you do whenever me or Eric pull him away from you, right?” 

“God, do you ever shut the fuck u–“ 

You first feel his hand grab the back of your neck, and then it’s his supple lips crashing into yours, capturing them, taking your breath away. You meet his fervour with just as much in turn, grabbing a fistful of his hair that’s almost crusty with hair spray to style it out of his face, yanking it in a way that’s just too hard to be more pleasurable than painful. It’s all just teeth and tongue and him growling just loud enough for you to hear as he pulls you strongly against him. 

The kiss tastes like victory and being right. 

Truthfully, you did not think he had it in him to go for it in such a public area like this, but maybe you really do bring out the worst in him. Would he regret this after? How amusingly humiliating it would be for him if he did, though if he didn’t, things would sure get a lot more interesting. You make sure to do what you do best and put on a show, hooking your leg around him and pushing up his poor excuse for a shirt to touch and grab and dig your nails into any flesh that was offered to you, hoping Felix was still watching and soaking in every single detail. 

In the end, you aren’t much better than Chan for wanting to make Felix jealous, as you are doing almost the exact same thing, albeit for different reasons. For you, it’s about winning. You want to gloat, add insult to the injury, and make him so hard in the process he’s left taking out his frustration on his own fist. If he comes crawling back, sure you’ll take him, but you definitely will not be gentle about it.  

For Chan, he was just a poor fool in love with his best friend, and is probably hoping he’ll want a turn after getting a taste from a distance. Hoping that he’ll realise what he’s missing right before his eyes, and decide he wants it for himself, and Chan will willingly give it to him – he’s probably a boring missionary with the lights off kinda guy and thinks it’s romantic, or something. Were you not with two hands in his hair trying to stick your tongue down his throat, you would’ve chuckled at the thought. 

“Are you serious right now?” 

While you did expect an interruption, you expected it more from one of them than your own drummer, visibly seething. You break the lip-lock to glare at him back in sheer confusion, but Chan doesn’t stop, glaring at Eric as well while his mouth moves down to your neck. The situation is all too familiar, and you wonder how much detail Felix shared about your last encounter with the others. 

“Why wouldn’t I be, Eric? I’m not touching your ex, so what’s the problem?” 

“You were just a hot minute ago,” Eric counters, though it’s not like you tried to hide it anyway. You shrug, tugging on Chan’s hair again as he cautiously slows down to encourage him to keep going despite the interference. 

“And? If you wanted me to follow the bro code, maybe you shouldn’t’ve suggested we tag team him at the Prism.” 

Your bandmate rolls his eyes so hard he probably got a glimpse of his brain. “It’s not about being my ex, they just insulted our band and everything we stand for! Are you seriously going to just stand there and take that cause they’re hot?!” 

“Take that? Oh, I’m not the one taking anything, just ask freckles over there,” you snicker, nodding toward him. “This boytoy is about to fuck around and find out.” 

The band’s opinions might as well be the only opinions that matter to you at this point, but in this moment you find yourself easily discarding them. Yes, you originally started antagonizing them for Eric’s sake – and it still is a large part that, but especially after the stunt at the Prism, he has no right to tell you who you can or can’t fuck as your friend. Evidently now your competitors have gone from competitors and a bitter ex to straight up enemies in his eyes, and perhaps at least with Felix, yours as well – but there’s no arrangement saying enemies are off-limits, either. In fact, you recall your band agreeing that no one cares who else you sleep with, so long as none of you catch and spread anything. 

“Maybe you can fuck around and find out yourself,” Chan pitches in boldly, surprising both of you. He looks forward at Eric through his eyebrows as he hovers over your shoulder still, but you can’t help get the feeling that he is hiding behind you like a shield. 

Eric’s eyes nearly pop out of his damn head. He has never liked Chan, not since he dated Felix and certainly not now. He was always very clingy with Felix, which isn’t really a problem on its own, but even you could tell from the way he looks at him that Eric was not exaggerating when he said he was whipped. You recall him ranting about a time where Chan had called Felix his soulmate, which activated just about every possessive bone in Eric’s body, and you couldn’t exactly blame him. 

To hear Chan come on to Eric for a change threw you both for a loop. 

“Is that an invitation?” 

“You wanna get the freckles treatment that bad, huh?” you poke, lightly smacking Chan’s thigh, “Fine by me. I wonder how long you’ll last.” 

“No, I’m not doing this,” Eric mutters bitterly, turning around and heading off with a childish wave. He must be thoroughly pissed off to not take him up on the chance to – whatever it is you call what you two did to Felix that made him feel in control again. To prove himself, you suppose. Or even just to tease Chan until he breaks. “Have fun sucking off our nemesis, just don’t expect to come home and have me finish you off when he can’t please you!” 

Cheap and immature – but Chan tightens his grip on you at that, bringing his lips next to your ear, asking slowly, cautiously, even – but undoubtedly brimming with anticipation.  

“Is that... a challenge?” 

“It sure is, hotshot, and you better not disappoint.” 

Despite how well Chan has been keeping his cool so far, he lets it slip on the drive home that he was his roommates’ ride back home, yet here he is, driving home without them. He insists they’ll be fine, public transport running all night with a stop right by their house. 

Not apartment. House. 

It’s a nice house too, and you would’ve thought it belonged to a young family of five at first glance if he hadn’t already revealed he lives there with only ‘the rachas’, who you have deduced from your stalking– or, research, are the two other band members who produce most of their music. You nearly trip over a dozen pairs of shoes in the doorway, the casual reminder that ah, yes, these are very much still men, but cliché as it is, Chan catches and steadies you. 

“Whoops. Sorry ‘bout the mess, wasn’t expecting guests- uh, you can take your shoes off if you want.” 

Ever the gentleman, you suppose. 

“Wow. Smooth,” you deadpan, blinking at him in awe before awkwardly removing your boots and stepping out just that much shorter without them, which Chan definitely notices, so you don’t give him time for a response. “You this charming to all of your hook-ups?” 

“Oh shut up,” he grumbles, chucking his shoes off and ushering you towards what’s presumably his bedroom, complete with coloured wall lights setting the room in a homey purple glow, and nerdy anime figurines on his shelves. Cute. “I was giving you a chance to back out in case you were getting second thoughts.” 

“Sure you were,” you drawl, unconvinced. Oldest trick in the book, and hardly impressive at that. “Now, are you really going to fuck around and find out, or admit you were all talk and get your ass out for me?” 

Now that makes him blush and grin at the same time, finally sauntering over to you and unbuckling his belt. “I don’t get my ass out for just anyone, tough guy, I’m typically more of a top, so I do hope you were ready to find out when you let me fuck around.” 

Now that’s a challenge if you ever heard one, and all of a sudden you aren’t sure who exactly is fucking around and finding out anymore. The thrill is exhilarating – little does he know or possibly realise, is that either way, you win. Because he can try put you in your place all he wants; even if he fucks the attitude out of you for a night, you’ll bite back harder as soon as you bounce back, and he can try again, but it’s not really punishment if you enjoy it so much. 

He was doomed to fail the moment he brought you home with him. 

“You think I need to top you to make you beg, pretty boy? Pff. You know what, I’ll even play nice. I won’t even try to take control for the first... five or so minutes. But I won’t give it to you either, so you’re going to have to take it yourself... or try.” 

“You and your games,” he hums, straightening his belt in his hands and turning it over almost in contemplation. You don’t think he’ll actually use it, but you entertain the thought. “You gonna put a timer on me too?” 

“Do you want me to? Cause it seems to me like you’re stalling again. Come on, big boy, give it your worst. I imagine you have a lot of anger to take out on me, no?” 

Your confident smile stays on your face when he lazily shoves you towards the bed, the back of your legs bumping the mattress, but you don’t even so much as sit on it, giving him a taunting look. Does he really think you are that easy? Does he really think you actually have any plans to cave for him? 

“Wow, that was pretty weak.” 

“If you want me to be rough with you, tough guy, we’re gonna need a safe word.” 

Ooh. Now you like the sound of that. 

“Red. Red light, if you prefer something more specific. I’ll say yellow if I’m reaching my limit. Likewise you can say the same, and I sure hope you do – because once I get started, I’m not stopping until you do.” 

He bites his lip at the warning; you can just feel the excitement emanating from him in waves. It’s almost more cute than it is threatening, and you already know you’re going to have fun with him. 

Ahh, nothing quite like the thrill of a charged rivalry. 

“Red light to stop, got it,” he confirms, nodding. “And... nothing else?” 

“Nothing else?” 

“Like...” he looks down at his belt again, running his hands across it, “just to be totally clear. When you say you’re not stopping until I do say it, does that mean we don’t stop if we say ‘stop,’ only when we say red light?” 

You’re sure your face must have just lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree, but you cannot help it. “CNC, huh? Didn’t think you had it in you, but yes, only red light. Though if you think I’m going to whine and plead for you to stop to get your dick hard, you’re going to be quite very disappointed.” 

“You really need to learn to shut the fuck up for once.” 

Music to your ears, as far as you are concerned. Not just is it a tantalizing promise, but it’s oddly satisfying to hear him say something so directly hostile – you have certainly succeeded in your mission to push his buttons, and now you’re just looking for even more to press. 

He pushes you back with more force this time, and when you hold firm, he simply picks you up like you don’t weigh anything and tosses you onto the bed like a ragdoll, climbing over you and pinning you there. You try to grab him to flip the two of you over, but he’s much stronger than Felix was – you can feel it in his grip, his weight, and how easily he manhandles your wrists to either side of your head and keeps them there despite your struggle, and boy, do you struggle. 

“Great job shutting me up,” you spit sarcastically, but he just keeps grinning down at you like he’s so thoroughly endeared by whatever he’s seeing. Not angry. Endeared. 

Something about that feels so much worse. 

“You’re trying so hard right now,” he giggles, fucking giggles at you, “but you can’t overpower me, can’t you?” 

That motherfucker is getting off to this. 

You relax your muscles then try to surge up with all your strength at once, just like how you overpowered Felix in a similar position, but unlike him, Chan doesn’t budge, arms flexing as they keep you firmly held down. Completely physically at his mercy.  

You seriously need to hit the gym. 

God, he likes it way too much, you can see the power trip written all over his face, and you can’t let him have it that easy. The show of strength is attractive, sure, but he’ll have to try harder than that to get anything else out of you, and he’s far too pacifistic to really tame you.  

“Maybe not physically,” you huff through gritted teeth and a half-smirk, “but that doesn’t mean you’ve won.” 

“That’s right, you want me to fuck the attitude out of you too, don’t you?” 

If you had been drinking something, you would’ve spat it out all over his face at that – it’s so damn jarring to hear something so crude coming out of his mouth, so confidently, even after all the tension tonight. He’s always stepped up to your challenge, but even when he shed his shyness, there was still a level of politeness to him – or was that restraint? 

“I want you to try, hotshot.” 

“I’ll give it my best shot, then.”  

He finally lets you push him off you, but when you’re both upright in a sitting position, he moves with startling quickness, grabbing both your arms again and pulling them behind your back and twisting you around to face away from him. You thrash about, but he simply shoves your face down into the mattress, grabs his belt again and loops it around one wrist to pull it to the other. You don’t make it easy for him, but eventually he manages to get both wrists tied in his belt, and when you try to slip free, you realise these are no improvised cuffs – he's definitely used his belt like this before. 

“You’re a real freak on the inside, aren’t you?” you chuckle, testing the belt cuffs again. They hold steady, chafing against your skin. “It’s always the sweet ones, isn’t it?” 

He scoffs, but he hardly seems offended. “That’d imply you’re anything of the sort. You may be a freak but you’re hardly sweet.” 

“Oh, but I can be. You simply haven’t earned the privilege, sweetheart.” 

And you really can be, the band would attest to that; your mean streak is coupled with the inclination to reward good behaviour when suitable, and you’re sure if you just dangle it in front of him like a carrot on a stick, he’ll walk on hot coals to earn his validation. The ones who pine so hopelessly are always the same like that. 

“I don’t think I need it.”  

He holds the cuffs in one hand so you can’t escape while the other starts divesting you of your pants, and you’re effectively lost for words. Just how long does he think he can keep this act up? He could barely contain himself back at the venue, all over you as soon as you started provoking him, letting you shove him around like a pathetic little thing. 

His grin doesn’t seem so polite anymore. 

“I usually feel a little bad when people want me to be rough with them. I don’t want to hurt anyone unless they're really into that, that’s not really how I get my kicks. I’m more of a giver. But you? You make it so easy to just take.” 

He doesn’t even fully pull your pants and underwear off, shoving them down only to your knees, then shoves two long fingers inside you, earning him a hiss. Chills go down your spine; he’s serious. You thought he would be too soft for you, but with him manhandling you now, the sinking feeling creeps up on you that your initial judgements of him may in fact be wrong. 

“Cause you just love it, don’t you? This is exactly what you wanted from me.” You do. It’s exactly what you wanted but the last thing you expected, and it has you positively reeling. “You’re so fucking wet... I knew you wanted to be put in your place.” 

You cast him a glance over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him and giving him the most neutral expression you can muster. “You think this is all you? You have no idea what I got up to with your precious little freckled boytoy in the back corridor, do you?” 

That hardens his features, pumping his fingers into you with more vigour, but with the angle, the method, and your sheer determination to not give him the satisfaction, it doesn’t do a whole lot. “Go on then, fuck the attitude out of me, if you think you can really do that.” 

Something seems to click. He pauses. 

“Hm... I don’t think I will.” 

You’re washed over with a wave of déjà vu to not that much earlier that night with Felix in that corridor. There’s no way he knew exactly what happened – you may have hinted at it, but there’s no way he knows specifically. There’s no way he’s about to do the exact same thing to you. There’s just no way. 

He pulls back, taking his hands off you completely and sitting back on his knees. Observing you. Amused. Endeared.  

Fuck. 

“You want it so badly. Why should I give it to you? You don’t deserve it.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Backed into a corner, you’re left with two options – give him what he wants, or edge yourself a second time in one night just to keep your pride, which, doesn’t really feel like is still intact when he’s not just using your own trick against you, but also, he just seems far too smug. If you say no now and walk out just like you did with his bandmate, after going with him all the way home and into his bed, you know it’ll reflect more on you than on him, and he knows that. 

"You wouldn’t have brought me back here if you didn’t want it badly enough too, smartass, so try again.” It’s a last-ditch attempt at saving face, but it has truth to it – not that you think he will cave in so easily. 

As it turns out, you are right. 

“You’re a brat,” he deadpans, crossing his arms and giving you a smirk that only tells you that he thinks he’s won. The odds of him thinking correctly are not exactly skewed in your favour. “You want to be put in your place more than I want to do it for you.” 

“You know what? Your five minutes are over.” 

It’s the only trump card you have, so you turn around and kick your bottoms off completely, climbing into his lap and grinding down on him, feeling just how hard he’s gotten from all the night’s teasing. It’s harder to get the upper hand on him when your hands are tied behind your back, but while you try to slip free of them, he simply laughs at you, grabs your wrist and pulls you off him with such ease it’s humiliating. 

“You’re so cute.” 

Cute? You’ve never been more enraged at praise before, feeling a red hot rush of anger and god knows what else all at once. Any other day and you’d be teasing him right back, but anything you could possibly say back to that dies on your tongue. The dawning fear that you may have finally bitten off more than you can chew sinks in like a pit in your stomach, directly betrayed by the heat it sends down south at the thought of sweet, pathetic Chan, having his way with you. At the thought of what he’d do to you if you finally caved. 

But you don’t need to. You have six other bandmates at home who know your body inside and out, who can probably please you far better than him – if you wanted someone to overpower you and break you, you could always go to Mingi. If you wanted a power struggle and a brat to tame, you could go to Wooyoung. If you wanted a power struggle to lose, you could always go to San or Sunwoo. If you wanted someone who could match your every move and go all night, you could go to Er– 

Or... maybe not. Not tonight. 

“I’m not cute,” is all you manage to say back, albeit rather weakly, and Chan just coos and ruffles your hair. Perhaps messing with the nice ones wasn’t your smartest move, as each act of affection he shows you seems even more potently menacing and deliberate than the last. 

“Cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

You were so fucking wrong about him. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Say please?” 

You want to kick and scream. He’s positively fucking infuriating, and you want – no, you need him to shut up and get you off before you spontaneously catch fire, but that’s exactly where he wants you and you hate it. But the thought of release, here and now without waiting to get home and deal with Eric’s pissy mood or having to handle it with only the help of your trusty vibrator, is looking more and more appealing with each passing second you spend glaring at his sickeningly pointed smirk. 

“I’m going to kill you for this.” 

With only the cruellest of gentleness, he brushes stray strands of hair out of your face, gracing you with only that touch and nothing else, his smirk growing into a wide, saccharine smile. 

“You can try.” 

Your own words, effectively chewed up and spat right back in your face. Fuck. 

Humiliating is the only way you can describe it, deeply and thoroughly humiliating, searing at your skin and all your senses, and yet, you still want him. Wooyoung’s humiliation kink suddenly seems to click in that moment, the way that white-hot shame is only making you even more flustered and worked up, but it’s more how frustratingly in-control Chan looks, kneeling in front of you and observing you like this. It’s a good look on him – too good of a look, you think, wanting to wipe it right off his face, but you don’t know how, so you do the only thing you have left. 

“...please.” 

“What was that?” He leans in closer, smug as can be, cupping a hand around his ear as if he really couldn’t hear you in the complete silence of his room. Bastard. 

“I’m not saying it again,” you spit in one last act of defiance, legs wobbling like jelly with the sheer embarrassment of it all. You’ve been provoking him this whole time, and now he gets to tease you? You’re taking this shame with you to the goddamn grave. “Either fuck me like you’ve been wanting to do this whole time, or don’t. I don’t care.” 

It’s a lie and you both know it, because if he doesn’t you know you’ll be so pent up that not even your vibrator could save you, but it’s easier to say that than to let him get any smugger than he already is. If your big mouth just sealed your fate, so be it, because there is no going back now. 

“I think we both know,” he begins slowly, “that you do care. But it’s okay, I’m not as blatantly mean as you are.” 

Mercy? Is he really showing you an act of mercy after so determinedly trying to make you crack? It doesn’t make sense – well, not until you consider that he has been edging himself just as long as he’s been edging you, so you suppose he’s taking the most subtle way he can of caving in. That’s enough for you, you think. You’ll take it. 

He pushes you back onto your back, arms somewhat uncomfortably stuck beneath you, but you hardly have it in you to care when he finally touches you, running his hands along your thighs and spreading them open with the firm instruction for you to keep them there. For once, you don’t actually feel like disobeying. 

He gets up, taking his time to walk around to his bedside table, and rummage through the drawers. After his expertise in repurposing his belt, you don’t know what to expect him to pull out from there, and based on the way he strokes his chin and stares periodically as he shuffles around, you get the idea he’s not sure yet either. That, or he’s deliberately making you wait, which is probably just as likely. 

“Are you more of an external or internal stimulation kinda guy?” he asks thoughtfully, tilting his head at his drawer, and your eyes widen at the question. 

“Now why should I tell you that?” 

“Uh, to come,” he scoffs back bluntly, “But that’s fine if you want to be stubborn still. Can’t go wrong with both.” 

He pulls out a blue rabbit vibrator and some lube, which you’re not sure why he bothers with when you’re already soaking a wet spot onto his sheets, but when he pops the cap open and your nostrils are hit with the scent of vanilla, you have a decent guess. 

“You don’t want to fuck me yourself?” You aren’t trying to taunt him this time, genuinely just surprised he’s doing all this without touching himself even once this whole time or even so much as taking off his clothes – you're starting to really believe him when he said he was a giver earlier. 

He simply smiles at you, pushing the lubed-up dildo to your hole gently. “What did I say about you not deserving it?” 

You shrug the best you can with your bound arms trapped between you and the mattress, at last relaxing to just enjoy the ride. If he wants to deny himself further, you’re not going to work yourself up into a fit over it – at this point, you just want to get off, so as far as you’re concerned, it’s his loss.  

“Fine by me. Toys usually feel far better than anything your dick could do, anyway.” 

He doesn’t seem to take the bait this time either, and truthfully, you don’t mind – not when it wasn’t even a lie, not really. When he switches it on, immediately turning it up three settings, your body jolts at the vibrations on your clit and inside you, mouth falling open in a silent cry. 

“That’s better. Feel good?” 

You nod wordlessly as he pushes it in and out of you, the combined sensations rendering you breathless for a long moment while you get used to the onslaught of pleasure enough to form words again. You’d be more embarrassed if you were not so wound up already, but it also helps that it’s just a toy rather than anything he could really brag about. You could probably use that against him later. At least, you hope so. 

“Use your words when I talk to you, baby.” 

He sounds like a siren, the way he makes that sound like the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, body shuddering and eyes rolling back as he turns the toy up one notch more. 

“F-Fuck- it feels good! So good,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath while it seems like it’s trying to sprint away from you. It’s so much all at once, and with all the teasing you already endured, you don’t think you will last very long. 

He leans over you, swiftly but not hastily kissing down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt to continue kissing down your chest, stopping at the gnarly scar across the underside of your pectorals. You brace yourself for one of the many comments you’ve heard, grabbing your wits about you and sharpening your tongue in preparation, then he breaths out– 

“Pretty.” 

Pretty? Your words get caught in your throat, his lips coming down to leave feather-light kisses on the scar from one end to the other, and each tiny point of contact feels like electricity crackling through you. Pretty. He just saw the dark, wide scar that speaks loudly of the battles you’ve won, your pride and your pain and your story all in one, and he kisses it and calls it pretty. Like it isn’t horrifying, or grizzly, or even badass or cool, but pretty, as if it’s something delicate, something to be revered. 

When he’s supposed to be mad at you. 

Each drive of the toy into you accompanied with the gentle worship of his lips has your back arching off the bed, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as he picks up the pace and the high you’ve been craving all night crawls up on you with overwhelming quickness, so close you can taste it on your tongue. 

“Oh fuck, I-I’m close–” 

Then he stops. 

Any cry of protest you were going to make dies on your lips, and instead, the tears of overwhelm that built up in your eyes finally spill over and down your cheeks, your hips instinctively twitching to try and get any sort of feeling once he pulls the toy away from you completely, still buzzing. 

“You- You said-” 

“I said I’m not as blatantly mean as you are,” he coos, stroking your hair again, his smile down at you with nothing but trouble written all over it. You swallow thickly. “I can be subtler about it, and much, much meaner.” 

“You haven’t even seen how mean I can get yet, hotshot,” you jeer, but you’re sure it doesn’t hold much weight with tears on your face and the edge of whininess to your voice. 

He doesn’t seem very intimidated, nor does he even grace that with a response, simply pressing the tip of the toy directly at your sensitive clit, but only for a moment before pulling back again, giggling cutely at how your hips keen up for more. 

“Fuck you!” 

He repeats the teasing motion again, his harmonic giggles filling your ears, and you don’t remember the last time you’ve been this riled up before, that with each touch of the buzzing toy you almost, almost tip over the edge, but you know you don’t want to. You know that if you do, it’ll stop, and you’ll be riding out your orgasm on nothing but air. 

Please. You know that’s what he wants to hear. You know that’s all you need to say. And yet, there’s a part of you that still doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, even though you’re sure he’s already had plenty just stringing you along this far and getting you to say it once, but your pride is too stubborn to say it like you mean it. 

“Maybe Eric was right, I might need to get him to make me come after all since you can’t seem to- ah!” 

He takes your bait this time, but not in the way you wanted to, pressing the toy hard against your over-sensitive nerve endings, just long enough to watch your body writhe and squirm and try to choke back a cry before he pulls back, but it’s too late. He brought you over the edge and let you fall, whining and shoving your hips up into nothing as your ruined orgasm pulses through you. 

“Can’t make you come, huh?” 

You haven’t caved in yet. Not fully. You don’t have to, you think, you can endure it and get him to go again and if you concentrate really hard, you can come without him realising, surely– 

“What’s your colour?” 

You blink quickly, still reeling, then process his question. You didn’t go this far just to call it quits now, not when you haven’t even touched him yet, not when you haven’t even got the chance to see his resolve crumble. You need it, you need to break him, whatever it takes. 

“Green.” 

“Good boy,” he chuckles darkly, petting your hair again, and now you register it as what it is – a warning. “Because I’m not done with you yet.” 

How many times has it been? 

You can’t count. You’re not sure if you can even tell up from down. The world is spinning, you’re just caught in its orbit, and just as you try to tense your body to not shake when your high creeps up on you again, it shakes anyway, and Chan pulls back once more. 

“You’re so fucking mean!” you scream, thrashing your legs about, but like every other time so far, he just laughs at you, then licks along the shaft of the toy, tasting your essence for himself. 

“I can do this all night, you know. The rachas might be back soon, though, and this rabbit only has so much charge, sooo... well, I can’t force you to do anything, no?” 

But he can, and you’re both aware of it, that’s precisely what you wanted to see him do, precisely the reason why you clarified the extents of your safe word system, but he’s doing it on purpose. He doesn’t want to take what he wants from you, because that’s exactly what you want him to do. He, just like Felix did, wants to see you beg, and unlike the former, he might just get it. 

Please. 

You’re at your wits end. More tears trail down your cheeks, to which he softly brushes off with the pad of his thumb, then sucks clean. He’s sick, licking your tears, but he looks fucking godly, the kind of powerful that mortals will clamber over each other tooth and nail just to feel for a day. It defies every preconceived notion you had of the man, but damn if you haven’t always had a thing for a defiant streak and his is giving you a taste of what madness truly feels like. 

Please. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, tough guy?” 

The condescending nickname only makes you want to act out even more, but you’re almost spent and he hasn’t even taken his pants off yet, and you cannot leave his bed without having made a dent in him whatsoever. You refuse. 

And so, you beg. 

“Please.” 

“I can’t hear you–” 

“Please!” You cry out, voice ragged from all the strain, “Please, Chan, just let me come already for fuck’s sake you’re such an asshole, just let me cum or I swear I’ll-” 

“Um? You were off to a good start baby, but that doesn’t sound like using your manners anymore...” 

That cruel, cruel, smile, will follow you into both your wet dreams and your nightmares. You’ve seen what lies behind that polite demeanour now, and were you any less headstrong, you’d decide not to test him again – but you can’t have suffered this for nothing. You can count your losses now, and come at him more prepared next time, because right now, you would do whatever he asks so long as he just. Lets. You. Come. 

“Please! Please, please, please let me come! I’m already begging I don’t know what else you want from me, please, Chan!” 

He sets the toy aside and you’re almost about to start whining and pleading again or even call yellow when he leans over to his bedside drawer again and this time, grabs a magic wand. Your eyes widen when he plugs it into the wall, realising that if this wand needs a three-prong outlet to power it, you might not feel your legs by the end of this. 

“Good boys get rewarded,” he reminds you, undoing his fly and shoving his briefs down just far enough to get it out of the way, finally revealing himself to you in all his glory, hard and leaking for you no doubt from how long he’s been holding himself off for this. He still takes his time fishing a condom out of his pocket, and you just wish he’d hurry up. 

“Forget that,” you huff, trying to nudge it away with your knee, “I get tested frequently and got the scoop already, just let me feel you, please.” 

“How do you know I don’t have anything?” he teases, stilling his movements, and you groan at how your attempt to hurry him along just dragged it out even longer. “I mean, I don’t, but that’s not really the safest of habits–” 

Were you not bound and begging him to fuck you, you’d have socked him in the face already. “Are you going to keep lecturing me or are you going to fuck me already?”  

He laughs, tossing the condom aside and moving closer between your legs, collecting your wetness on his tip and hissing at the feeling – you have no doubt he’s beyond sensitive with how worked up he must be, depriving himself all night, and you just cannot wait to see him break loose. 

“You’re cute when you’re desperate.” 

He sheathes himself fully inside you all at once, filling you up just that much more than the toy did, and the groan that he lets out at you clenching around him is the most euphoric thing you’ve heard all night, even more so than the screams of the crowd at the contest. Loud was not the first word that came to mind when you imagined what Chan would be like as a dominant in bed – not that you’d imagined it prior, or, at least, not for too long, anyway – but it turns out he is full of surprises. He doesn’t hold back the breathy grunts that spill from his lips as he starts to move, and neither do you. 

Your arms ache, wrists moist with the sweat trapped between the belt and your skin, but you don’t have it in you to speak up about it, as if he stops or slows down now you think you just might kill him for real. Just as you try to wriggle and slip your hands free to touch yourself, you are forcefully reminded of the toy he grabbed earlier – almost more fitting to call it a tool with the strength of the vibrations suddenly pulsing against you, so intensely it pulls out a moan so loud it borders on a scream. 

“Fuck– Chan– too much–!” you gasp, tears welling up in your eyes, but when you blink them away and see Chan just give you a questioning tilt of his head, you know what you have to say to make him slow down. 

The word never leaves your lips. 

“Too much, huh?” he taunts, snapping his hips even faster and making your toes curl. There’s a gravelly tone to his voice now, no doubt him finally losing his composure now that he is finally having you himself. “Weren’t you begging for this just a moment ago? Don’t you– hah– Don’t you want to come? Fuck, you’re clenching around me so tight like this, baby...” 

He’s gone already, you realise, though not like you’re one to talk – you wonder if this is part of why he waited so damn long, but by now you’re not that far behind him, barely hanging on. It’s only when you realise that you are still trying to hold on when he’s already given you permission to come do you finally let go, calling out his name as possibly the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced wracks your body in waves. 

“That’s it baby, just like that, fuck, come for me, come.” 

You don’t remember the last time you cried this much in bed, but it’s so overwhelming that the tears just keep on falling and your body keeps on writhing, almost trying to pull away, but your wrists are still tightly bound, and Chan does not let up, even for a moment. His groans grow louder, his face beautifully scrunched up in ecstasy, and his grip on your hip tightens with each thrust. 

The vibrations on your clit don’t let up either, Chan still holding the wand firmly in place, but you can’t string together a sentence to stop him. You don’t know if you want him to, all you know is that it hurts, but it’s hard to tell where pain ends and pleasure begins, just stars spinning behind your eyelids. 

“Ch-Chan,” you whine, physically reeling, “T-Too much...!” 

Yellow. It sits on your tongue, simmering, the same way you can almost feel heatwaves emanating from both you and Chan’s bodies, trembling like a leaf, but it doesn’t reach a boiling point, just an inch too shy. You can take it. You can take more. You want it. You need it. 

“If it were anyone else,” Chan rasps, leaning down and propping up his free arm next to your head so his face hovers closely over yours, “Anyone else and I’d feel really bad about this.” 

Chan proves to be one of the most confusing men you have ever met, because him saying that fills you with equal parts dread, excitement, and the most twisted sense of pride at being the only one to be able to draw out this side of him. To have that much of an effect over him. Either you tell yourself that to cope, or maybe you didn’t completely lose this test of will after all. 

All the sweat manages to be enough for you to finally slip your hands free from belt one at a time, grabbing at his broad shoulders to brace yourself– 

And then he sets the wand to max. 

Your nails meet toned muscle as you dig into his back hard enough to feel the skin breaking, clawing all the way down his back for dear life. Part of you is glad the tool itself is so blaringly loud, because while it doesn’t actually drown you out at all, it at least gives you something else to hear other than your own voice when you make a sound almost foreign to your own ears. You can barely focus on how enticing Chan sounds now, gasping and groaning and hissing at how you feel and releasing inside you, trying to concentrate on the image of him the closest you’ve seen to ruined through the tears that keep welling up in your eyes. 

When it finally stops, you feel like you’re falling back down through the atmosphere, picking up speed as you plummet back down to earth, but your landing is cushioned by Chan’s gentle hands and gentle voice, cooing at you softly and scooping you into his arms. He strokes your hair rhythmically, and this time, it’s not a warning – you haven’t processed a single word he has said to you, but you can feel it enough that it’s not a warning. 

You feel like you might just break. 

“Yellow,” you mumble out loud, at least, but Chan just tuts and cups your face. 

“It’s done now, you’re done, it’s okay,” he whispers, kissing your nose, then your forehead, then tucking your head under his chin and just holding you there. Why? “You don’t have to take anymore, okay? You did good, baby. You did good.” 

You did good.  

You don’t know why hearing that from him makes you dizzy, but you cling to him right back, trying to get a grip on your breathing by syncing it up with the soothing strokes of his palm down your back. It’s such a stark contrast to the man who was just admitting to not feeling bad about pushing you so close to your limit, so different to the Chan who told you that he doesn’t feel like he has to be a giver with you. The Chan that holds you takes nothing and doesn’t let go until you loosen your grip on him first, from damn near falling asleep. 

How long you spent there just stuck to him like glue is beyond you, but it feels like hours. He asks before pulling away, if you’re okay, then tells you he’s going to clean you up and returns with wet wipes and a towel to wipe you off. You drowsily let him wipe you down until you hear the front door opening in the distance and flinch, but Chan just hushes you and smooths his hands over your sides until you calm down. 

“Don’t worry about them,” he reassures you, “they’ll be going straight to bed, and they sleep like the dead. You’re fine with me.” 

You’re not present enough to process how that makes you feel, or to say anything back. Sleep calls, louder this time, and you answer in kind. 

Soobin had always been the shy type, but you’ve never seen him so nervous before he even does so much as utter a word. Standing in your doorway, he fidgets with his hands, staring at you until you look back and then immediately looks somewhere else, gnawing cutely on his bottom lip-

“You can come in, you know?”

“Oh- uh, right.” Soobin clears his throat, awkwardly shuffling into the room and plopping himself lightly on the edge of your bed. How his impressively tall frame manages to take up the smallest amount of space possible never fails to amuse you, pulling a smile at your lips. He’s so cute.

“Spit it out already, what’s got you so worked up, bun?” You ask, a twinge of satisfaction flooding through you when his eyes widen slightly at the nickname, cheeks and ears going even pinker with just the single word. He really does look like a bunny, with his wide eyes and perfectly shaped lips.

He looks at the floor, playing with his hands again. “Oh just… y’know. Wondering. Uh… about… kinks, and stuff.”

There it is. You smile softly, trying to tone down your excitement at his words – he already seems like he’s about to jump out of his skin at the slightest of sounds. “Well, you know I’m always down to talk about kink, bunny. Is there something you want to try?”

He takes a deep breath as if to prepare himself, holds it, then sighs, flopping backward onto the mattress. “N-Nevermind. I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it? Soobin, you know I’m eager to hear anything you have to say on the matter. I’d never judge you for it,” you soothe, scooting over next to him and draping yourself over his body to cuddle. “Trust me, my list of things I won’t try is a lot shorter than the list of things I would. Especially if you’re involved.”

“Yeah?” Soobin props his head up on his arm, the other naturally falling around you, hugging you close to him. With your head on his chest, you can hear how hard his heart is pounding as he tries to keep his cool on the outside, so you press a gentle kiss to his chest in encouragement. “Well… then what kind of things do you want to try?”

“Soobin,” you chuckle incredulously, “You can just tell me what it is, you know. I’ll probably be down.”

“It’s embarrassing!” He whines, shoving a pillow into his face, muffling his next words. “You first. If you’re so kinky, tell me the all the wild kinks you have.”

“How much time you got?”

He laughs brightly, seeming to finally ease up a bit, peeking his face out from behind the pillow. “Seriously! I’m being serious, baby…”

“So am I!” You laugh back, sitting up to snatch the pillow from him and lightly thwack him with it. “We’ll be here a while. Do you want them alphabetically, chronologically, in order of most to least socially acceptable or—"

“I want you to do dirty things to me because I get really turned on when you guys tease me, especially in public,” he quietly blurts out all at once, immediately grabbing back the pillow and shoving his face into it again before he even finishes his sentence. “This- This is so embarrassing. But I kind of like it! Being embarrassed! I-It’s weird but whenever you tease me, even when it’s not super sexual like just a nickname or a joke, I-I should be mortified but instead my body gets all hot a-and—” his voice dips into a faint murmur, “—I get hard. Every time. I don’t know why, I just do, sorry, it’s so weird…”

He rolls over away from you and onto his stomach, still smothering himself with the pillow like it’d soften the blow to his pride somehow. You reach over to card a hand into his hair, giving him a few reassuring head scritches.

“Oh bunny… that’s not weird at all. Getting aroused at a bit of humiliation is actually really normal. You’re not weird or gross or anything – on the contrary, I think it’s pretty hot.”

Finally peeling himself away from the pillow and looking up at you, he hugs the pillow to his chest and shuffles back into a sitting position. “Really? That’s a relief, aha… oh wow. My heart is pounding.”

“Are you hard, too?” You tease, reaching for the massive pillow in his lap slow enough for him to pull back if he was uncomfortable – but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even grip the pillow any harder, letting you take it away from him and reveal the tent in his sweatpants, flushing crimson all the way down to his neck. “Aww, baby bunny really likes being embarrassed, hm? How cute.”

He shoves a hand over the lower half of his face as if it’d hide his deep blush at all, nodding carefully. Being embarrassed at admitting how much he likes being embarrassed – he truly is the gift that just keeps on giving. You can have so much fun with this, you think, and ideas start firing up in your mind at a million miles per hour.

“Can I tell the others about this, too?”

He pauses for a moment, mulling it over, then nods. “Y-Yeah. Well, maybe just Yeonjun to start with. I feel like the others would make fun of me- oh.” He looks down into his lap, remembering how he got in this situation in the first place. “Maybe… I mean, if you think they’ll like it…”

“Oh, Soobin,” you coo, sliding yourself into his lap while he swallows thickly and glances frantically between your face and where crotch is sitting all too close to his, “Why do you think we all tease you so much in the first place? You’re just so cute when you blush like this.”

Looping his arms around your waist, he buries his burning face in the crook of your neck, letting out a little whine. “Ah, stop…”

“Oh?” You immediately pull back, not wanting to push him too far, but before you could say anything else he pulls you back flush against him, arms wrapped tightly around you and chin hooked over your shoulder, hard on pressed up against your clothed core.

“I-I don’t mean that. I don’t know. It just feels very… it’s a lot, but I like it, even though my instinct is to say stop…”

“How about we implement a traffic light system, then?” You suggest helpfully, “It’s the same one I use with Jjunie and the others. Red means stop, yellow means this is the most I can take, and green means we’re good to keep going. I’ll ask you your colour to check in on you from time to time, but you can just say them whenever you feel the need to.”

Soobin nods quickly. “That sounds good.”

“So, what’s your colour right now, bun?”

“Green.”

“Good boy.”

A shiver goes down his spine at your words, and he only trembles more when you roll your hips down into his, gripping onto his broad shoulders.

“What kinds of dirty things did you want me to do to you, Soobinnie? Tie you up? Spit in your mouth? Make you cum in your pants? You’ll have to be specific, baby.”

“I-I don’t know,” he mumbled, his grip around your smaller form still firm as if to ground him. “I don’t really know what kind of things I’m into yet. But you do, which is why I asked… so if you want to try anything with me, I want to… yeah. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

You click your tongue, running your hands through his hair. “Such dangerous promises from such a sensitive little bunny. I want to completely ruin you, Soobin. I’m not sure if you can handle all that.”

“Please.” He fucking whimpers, the same kind of sound you only heard when he was close or when you hit his spot just right. You grind down on him again, this time more out of instinct than anything else, then you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you. The action makes his cock twitch beneath you, and the rush of power that comes with it is intoxicating.

“If we’re going to do this, we’re first stopping by the sex toy shop.”

“Wait, what?”

“You said you’ll do whatever you want me to. I’m going to grab Jjunie’s favourite remote-control plug, and you’re going to be a good boy for me till we get back.”

You take it easy on him to start with, since you’d never done this kind of thing with Soobin before – it was more of you and Yeonjun’s thing, Taehyun and Beomgyu preferred having the remote, and Hyuka was too intimidated to try such a thing in public as he was by far the worst at controlling his facial expressions or trying not to cum. You left the toy off for the whole drive to your favourite store, letting him relax a little, only to activate it the moment you walked through the door with no more warning than a brief cheek kiss.

His whole body jolts for a moment, so you grab at his hips to steady him, but that only seems to rile him up more as he sucks in a sharp breath.

“You good?”

“I’m good. We’re green.”

You smile at him and link your hands in silent praise, although the cashier would’ve likely guessed what was going on right away. The plug was only on it’s lowest setting, which was effectively silent against the music the store was playing, so Soobin manages to recollect himself, squeezing your hand tightly and giving you an assured nod.

“Alright,” you hum, shoving a basket into his hands, “How about you grab some of our usual lube and toy cleaner? We’re running a little low, if I recall. Feel free to see if there’s anything else you’d like while we’re here – you’ll need to be a good boy and use your words, though. Okay?”

The familiar flush returns to his face, nodding quickly. “O-Okay.”

Part of him is clearly dying to ask what you’d be getting in the meantime, but he knows better than to ask – if you would tell him, you would’ve told him already. No, he’s a good boy, and good boys obey without asking questions.

While he scurries off to track down the cherry-flavoured lube Hyuka loves so much, you waste no time browsing. You’ve had your eyes on the playboy bunny outfit ever since you first saw it in the store, and what better opportunity to try it than this?

Not for you, of course. For him.

The fact that he has no idea what to expect makes it even better, and you think he’d be peeking over to see what you’re getting, but obediently enough, he doesn’t even look your way. Smiling to yourself, you hurry over to pay at the counter, making sure to get an opaque bag to store it in before finding your way back to Soobin.

“Found anything you like, bun?”

He damn near jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, the toy in his hands falling to the floor before he could stop it – and then he freezes, half bent over in his pitiful attempt to catch this frankly massive dildo bigger than anything in your collection.

“U-Um, I was just looking at it—” He breaks off into a surprised squeak as you bring down a hand on his ass, making him bolt upright, hands flying up to hide his face in embarrassment again.

You very slowly and deliberately bend over to pick it up, examining it all around. “It’s pretty big. Six inches not enough for you, hmm? What a greedy little bunny.”

He’s embarrassed out of his mind, and he loves it – you can tell by the way his hips keep twitching slightly, no doubt being helped by the vibrator inside him, slowly working away at his resolve. It’s ridiculously cute, the way he takes a deep, deep breath to calm himself, or at least trying to. Moving his hands away from his face at last, he apprehensively looks between the toy and your face, asking in a hushed murmur, “…does that mean you’re getting it?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, turning it around in your hands, “Am I? Do you want it, Soobinnie? If you do, remember what I said about being a good boy.”

Soobin gnaws on his lower lip – he wants to be a good boy for you so bad, but as much as he loves the hot feeling of humiliation, it’s different when you do it to him and when he has to do it himself. You watch the internal struggle behind his eyes as he hesitates for a few moments, debating whether it’d be worth it or not, but in the end, his boner wins over his dignity. He hardly had any of the latter left, anyway.

“I… I want it,” he whispers, holding the basket out, hands shaking just a little. “Can we…?”

“Are you sure?” You ask, less demeaning this time. “This is big even by my standards, we’ll have to work you up to it—”

“I can take it,” Soobin blurts out, sliding the basket onto his arm and clasping both your hands in his, looking at you dead in the eyes. “Please?”

“Okay,” you hum softly, placing it back onto the shelf and sliding one of the boxes behind it into the basket with a chuckle, “We can get it. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

He offers you an awkward half-grin, scratching behind his ear. “Heh, have to keep you on your toes somehow, right?”

You reward him by turning up the toy’s intensity on your phone, and this time he isn’t able to hold back the startled moan that falls from his lips, clutching at your shoulder for support.

“A-Ah— can you- can you turn it down a little, please, fuck…” His head rolls back and his eyes fall closed, mouth slightly parted, and it’s the perfect tease of what’s to come, igniting a fire beneath your skin.

“No.”

You turn it up just a little bit more, making him gasp and stumble forward, eyes blown wide at the stimulation, pleadingly gazing into yours. “Please?”

“No,” you repeat simply, meeting his gaze. If he reallywanted you to turn it down, he knew what he had to say, but the deliberate lack of those words made you grin menacingly. “Stand up straight, bun. We’re going to go pay for these.”

“N-No— wait—!” He grabs your wrist and pulls you to his chest, looping his arms around you to keep you in place. His face returns to his usual spot in the crook of your neck, and you can feel how his body keeps on shivering, how fast his heart is beating, how his skin is warm to touch. “I-I’m seriously gonna cum if you don’t turn it down, p-please, jagi, I-I’m so close…”

You love having him both wrapped around your body like this and wrapped around your pinkie finger – his tall stature towering over you and yet, he seems so small, all because of you. You have half the mind not to let him cum, knowing full well he probably would anyway; it’d just give you an excuse to punish and humiliate him further, but he’s always so eager to be good. Would that make him feel bad? The solution comes to you as you nip at the shell of his ear, rubbing his back, and he muffles a high-pitched noise against your skin.

“I don’t believe I’ve given you permission to cum yet, Soobinnie.”

“Please.” That precious sound again. You don’t know what he’s begging for anymore, whether it’s to stop or to keep going, but he hardly seems to know either. He tries to keep his voice low so he doesn’t draw any more attention, the tall shelf next to you the only thing blocking the two of you from the staff and other customer’s sight, but he struggles. You can feelthe tension in his body as he desperately tries to hold himself back, gripping onto you like a lifeline. “Please, I-I’m— ____, please.”

Oh, how you love hearing your baby bunny beg.

“Oh? Does my baby bunny want to cum in his pants in the middle of this store? How naughty. What if someone catches you, hm? Sees how much of a desperate little mess you are for me?”

“Please, please, please, ah fuck— s-stop, please, I’m gonna cum, I’m—” It’s but a broken whine, barely louder than a whisper, and he bites down onto your neck as the thread finally snaps under the pressure, spilling into his pants. He can’t seem to stop trembling, all of his willpower going into staying quiet as his orgasm rushes through him. It takes some effort on your part too with how hard he’s biting you, but you know that’ll just add to the sheer embarrassment of cumming in his pants in public – now you have a fresh bite mark on your neck to show for it.

When Soobin finally stops shaking like a leaf, he slowly peels back, eyes wide, glancing down at the mess he made of his pants, blushing a brilliant shade of red. “I-I’m sorry, I came without permission I- I— I’m sorry…”

“Aw, you poor thing,” you coo, running your hand through his hair in a soothing motion that quickly has him melting into your touch. “That’s okay, bunny. You’ll just have to make it up to me later, won’t you?”

His eyes glitter at the prospect of redemption, nodding earnestly. “Yes, yes— I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I’ll be a good boy for you.”

He leaves a lingering kiss on your lips, then crushes you in a hug. “Thank you. Can I, um- can I cover it with my jacket, or…?”

“Or? Should I make you parade around the mess you’ve made?” You’re certain you’ll never grow tired of the flustered expression he makes at comments like this, but you rub his shoulders reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for now, at least. Use your jacket if you want, but I’m pretty sure the cashier will still notice the bite mark on my neck that wasn’t there before…”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t be. I like showing it off.”

He trails after you like a lost puppy, but you don’t miss the way he swallows thickly at the showing off comment. You’ll just have to show him off more, you think, and by the time you finish the transaction – Soobin avoiding the cashier’s gaze at every opportunity – and are back in the car, you can’t tell whether Soobin’s more worked up or if you are.

As soon as you open the door to your apartment, Soobin is already ushering you through it, then caging you against it as it shuts behind you. You almost drop your bag of goods at the way he kisses you, deep and fervent, like he needs it. Maybe he does, you think to yourself, smirking against his lips – those soft, plump lips, you could kiss them forever if he’d let you (which you know he would in a heartbeat if you just asked him nicely) – considering you hadn’t turned off the toy in him since he came, only lowering the setting a level.

He’s not usually needy like this. Needy, definitely, but usually far more restrained – looking at you with those pleading eyes, subtly trying to shift you to where he wants you, whining a little, but rarely straight up taking what he wants, shoving you up against a door and kissing you breathless. Not that you mind. In fact, you’re keen to see just howneedy you can get him by the time you’re done with him.

You indulge him this time. Letting his hands roam freely over your body, letting him slip his tongue in your mouth, letting him peel your clothes off in a hurry, but part of him must know it’s not going to be that easy. He doesn’t try do any more than that, clearly waiting for you to give the next direction, but you don’t. You kiss him back just as eagerly until he finally pulls his head back just to scan your features, figure out what you want from him. Then it clicks.

“I want to try it now,” he urges, carefully taking the handles of the bag from your hands. “I can’t wait. Please?”

“So impatient, Soobinnie,” you giggle, tapping his nose. “So excited about your new toy, too. Don’t you want to know what I bought for you?”

He nods so quickly you’re surprised it doesn’t make him dizzy. “That’s what I mean. I want to try it now. Whatever it is, I just—” his voice drops into a husky whisper, “I want you. I want you to have your way with me.”

Fuck. Making him use his words was meant to embarrass him further, making him tell you all the dirty things he thinks, but you didn’t think it’d end up making you weak in the knees. You don’t think he even realises what talking like that does to you, his one-track mind simply trying to obey, to please you.

“What a good boy you’re being for me.” You smile at him, taking out the bag within the bag, shoving it into his hands and taking the other. “Go and put that on, and I’ll get the strap ready. Okay?”

You can almost hear his internal monologue out loud – oh my god, is this finally happening? – before he nods quickly and hurries off to the bathroom.

By the time he comes to your room, you’re already in a silk robe with your strap-on ready with the new toy, the previous one you usually use on hand to work him up to it; but it nearly falls out of your hands this time as soon as you see him walk into view.

The bunny ears were clearly straightened after being crumpled into the original packaging – you grin at the image of Soobin in the bathroom mirror trying to fix them, trying to look pretty for you, not that he really needed to try – the black leotard and sheer tights hugging him in all the right places, the collar with a slightly lopsided bowtie snug against his neck, and Soobin himself looking both the shyest and most excited you’ve ever seen him.

“Wow,” you breathe out, eyes boldly roaming across his form from head to toe, “You look so sexy for me, bun. How do you like it?”

Soobin’s eyes drop to the floor, pulling his lip between his teeth. “It’s… really embarrassing. But I like it,” he adds quietly, looking over his shoulder to see if any of your other boyfriends are out and about. “I keep thinking the others are home and that they’ll see me. My heart’s pounding right now…”

“The others are home,” you inform him promptly, “I believe they’re all in their rooms. Why, do you want them to see you?”

“I-I—” He swallows thickly. “They’ll probably make fun of me. Especially Beomgyu.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, bun. Do you want them to see you?”

His eyes widen, realising he’s been caught, playing with his hands again. “…K-Kind of.”

“It’s a yes or no question, baby.”

“Y-Yes. I… I want them to see me like this. I want to show them… that I’m… their little bunny.”

He slowly brings his hands to his face again as he speaks, but you get up and pull them away from him, forcing him to look at you. Keeping your grip on his wrists, you pull him over to where your box of toys was kept, pulling out a black leather leash and clipping it on right behind his bowtie. You study his face for his reaction, but he bites back an excited smile.

Smiling back at him, you give the leash a sharp tug, and he inhales sharply, eyes closing for that moment before meeting yours in a dark, half-lidded gaze. He likes it.

“Good bunny.”

Strutting past him and tugging him along by the leash, you grab the lube with your other hand, then pull him with you to the living room. He nearly trips over his own feet when he finds Huening Kai and Beomgyu on the couch, the former doing a double take as soon as Soobin walked in.

They had been filled in on Soobin’s newly discovered kink earlier, you having texted it to them while you were grabbing his outfit at the adult store, but neither of them seemed to have expected it so soon, caught off guard while just scrolling on their phones.

“You boys busy?” You ask them sweetly, twirling the line around your wrist to pull Soobin closer as he tried to hide his giant frame behind you, shyly peeking over your shoulder. Giving the collar a firmer tug, you pulled him down to your height, kissed his cheek, then maneuvered him in front of you to show off. “Our baby bunny wants to play. Doesn’t he look cute?”

Beomgyu is the first to stop staring in awed silence, shoving his phone in his pocket, a sly smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Wow… I didn’t expect you to like dressing up for this kind of thing, Soobinnie. Is there a tail too?”

Soobin doesn’t protest as you use the finger hooked under the collar to spin him around, showing off the little puff of white. Beomgyu seems ecstatic at this, going straight to smack the taller man’s ass, laughing as his whole body tenses up in surprise, making a tiny sound that has him blushing even harder when he meets Beomgyu’s eyes over his shoulder.

“I like it. I just never knew our Soobinnie was into being our pet… if I knew, I would’ve put that leash on him sooner. Would you have let me? Or is this a ____-only privilege, huh?”

“I-I’d let you,” Soobin stammered, unable to meet his eyes. His words seem forced out, not like he doesn’t mean them, but like it’s taking all of his willpower to commit to saying them aloud. “I-If you wanted. All of you.”

Beomgyu snickers, spanking him again. “Wow, so you’re just that desperate? You want all of us to own you, drag you around by the throat, treat you like a silly little rabbit? Embarrass you more because it gets your dick hard? How dirty.”

Beomgyu is really good at embarrassing Soobin, you think. He always has been, but now that he knows it turns him on, you figure that’s only going to increase tenfold. You know it definitely will on your end, at least, and you wonder if he will get used to the teasing or keep getting as flustered as he is right now. Then again, after years of dating him, he still gets flustered when we call him bunny sometimes.

The youngest seemed at a loss for words, simply staring open-mouthed at the sight in front of him, not-so-subtly adjusting his pants, to which you smiled softly at him.

“You’re allowed to touch yourself, Hyuka. You can touch our little bunny too if you want, but for now I mostly just want you to watch. Do you two mind getting Taehyun and Yeonjun?”

The two are quick to nod and split towards the remaining boys’ rooms, leaving you and Soobin alone in the living room. You clear the coffee table, figuring Soobin wouldn’t mind the discomfort if it meant the perfect place for the rest of your boyfriends to sit around him and watch him fall apart for you.

“Hands and knees, bunny,” you order him, running a hand along his spine as he bent over for you. He looked over his shoulder at you, eyes wide with anticipation, biting his lip again as he pulled the leotard to the side, then realising a problem.

“The… tights…”

“Easily fixed,” you hum, bringing your face down to his ass and pulling at the thin material, then ripping a hole in it with your teeth. He keened into your touch, a silent request for more, which you decide to indulge. Cracking open the cherry-flavoured lube, you squeeze a generous amount onto his hole, slightly stretched from the love egg in it earlier, but still with a long way to go.

Your boyfriends enter the room again to the sight of you holding Soobin’s leotard aside, eagerly lapping at his asshole, grabbing and squeezing at his cheeks through the ripped tights.

“Woah,” Yeonjun exhales, gaping at you both in disbelief, sitting down on the couch without peeling his eyes away. “Is it my birthday already or something?”

Taehyun’s eyes immediately darken, strolling over to get a better look at Soobin in the playboy bunny costume, circling him almost menacingly before sitting down with a satisfied grin. “Are you embarrassed right now, Soobin?”

Soobin whimpers, shutting his eyes as if that’d help him not notice all the hungry eyes on him – but he didn’t want to block them out, not really. Not when they set off every nerve ending in his body and made his dick twitch under the tight material of the leotard, clenching around your tongue with a shaky “N-Not there— that’s so d-dirty— ah—!” that has you only pushing deeper into him.

“Hey,” Taehyun snaps, leaning forward to grab Soobin’s chin to look at him. “I asked you a question. Are you embarrassed right now, Soobin?”

“Y-Yes,” Soobin gasps out, avoiding eye contact but pushing back onto your mouth, “I feel like a t-toy on display but- but- nngh— I—"

I like it. He didn’t need to finish that sentence for you all to know exactly what he meant. He sighs again when you finally pull away, dropping to his elbows on the hard surface of the coffee table, but the coolness of it is a refreshing contrast to the heat beneath his skin.

“Why are you whining, baby? Don’t you want to be stuffed to the brim with the massive cock you picked out today?” You tease, making his eyes drop down to the toy firmly secured onto your harness, licking his lips and swallowing. “That’s what I thought. But we need to work you up to it, don’t we? So, who’s going to volunteer…?”

Hyuka and Taehyun stand up at the same time, almost tripping over each other’s feet. Their eagerness is endearing; when Hyuka takes a step in front of him, Taehyun simply shoves him back toward the couch with that cheeky grin you’ve grown to love.

“Now, now, boys, patience is a virtue. You both can have your turn; after all, we’ll need to stretch him out nice and wide for my cock,” you purr, relishing the way Soobin shivers at your words alone.

“Oh, I’ll stretch him out alright.”

Taehyun doesn’t waste any time, shoving two fingers into Soobin’s mouth and commanding for him to suck. Soobin, ever the good boy, obeys without question, sloppily swirling his tongue around them and taking them further into his mouth until he seems satisfied.

“Just remember who’s in charge tonight, Taehyun,” you warn him, levelling him with a steely look that tells him not to get ahead of himself. “This is Soobin and I’s scene, I don’t want any trying to take over from you. Or any of you – looking at you, Beomgyu.”

“When have I ever done that?” Beomgyu replies in a sing-song voice that honestly answers his own question, unable to resist a cheeky smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be good just this once. Only cause I wanna see you wreck Soobinnie’s cute little asshole.”

You’re quite pleased with that – yes, that will do just swimmingly – and settle yourself on the couch chair to the side of the coffee table, the perfect view to see your boyfriends’ faces from the front. Soobin shrinks under the intensity of everyone’s gazes, but when you slowly pull on his leash again and hold it there, he seems to hold himself a little higher; almost as if the reminder that he’s yours tonight gives him more confidence.

“More, more please,” Soobin pleads, face shoved into his arm as Taehyun slips a third finger into him, “Just give me your cock, I’m ready.”

“You’re quivering,” Taehyun deadpans, giving his ass a resounding smack. “Well, I was trying to be gentle, but if you’re going to be so needy…”

With one hand hastily undoing his pants to take his cock out, the other creeps forward to wrap around Soobin’s neck – only for you to yank him out of reach with a firm tug on the leash.

“What did I just say, Taehyun?”

Taehyun tongues at the inside of his cheek, biting back any attitude. He isn’t above trying to give you a run for your money when it comes to being in charge, but he knows his place as a participating audience member this time rather than another dom. He sighs, smoothing his hands over Soobin’s body and playfully flicking the little tail. “Fine.”

You all pay rapt attention as Taehyun ever-so-slowly pushes himself into Soobin, hissing sharply at the tightness while Soobin lets out a breathy moan, already bucking his hips back onto him, completely unprompted. Your little escapade at the adult store must have worked him up more than you thought – good. You press your thighs together in anticipation, already letting your mind get ahead of yourself in all the ways you can drag it out even more.

“What a slutty little bunny,” Yeonjun drawls, snapping you out of your reverie, “Already fucking himself back on Taehyunie’s cock before he even has a chance to move.”

“Ngh— you g-guys are so mean,” Soobin whines, giving Yeonjun a half-hearted glare that looks far cuter than it does threatening considering he’s wearing bunny ears with Taehyun balls-deep inside him. “I’ve been— ah- t-teased all day— oh fuck ngh-! C-Came in my pants in the sex shop— fuck, Taehyun!”

“You came in your pants in the sex shop?” Beomgyu echoes, cracking into mocking laughter, “Aww, our little bunny made a mess of his pants in public? Did anyone else see you with cum all over your pants?”

“S-Stop,” Soobin mumbles, but the boys are relentless, all leaning forward on the edge of their seats to get a better look at his body trembling with each snap of Taehyun’s hips.

He groans, low and throaty, slowing his thrusts to give the rest of you a clearer view of Soobin’s hole hugging his cock. “He says stop but he’s clenching so tight around me right now… could it be… our Soobinnie likesbeing talked to like that?”

“N-No!”

“Then what’s your colour?” Hyuka chimes in, trying to seem gentle and sweet like Soobin always is with him – but his excitement comes off him in waves, and he can’t quite bite back his giggly smile enough.

A strangled moan falls from Soobin’s lips when he realises he’s been backed into a corner; he can’t lie, not about this. Not that he wantedto lie in the first place, he always wants to be honest, always wants to please - but with the accusatory teasing he couldn’t help but deny it on reflex.

You tug on his leash again. “Answer when we ask you a question, bun.”

“G-Green,” he mutters at last, confirming what you and the others already knew, and you could practically feel the red-hot shame rushing through him and straight to his dick. “D-Don’t look at me like th-that— I just— ah, please!”

“What are you pleading for, bunny? Use your words.”

It’s a twisted request and you know it. He’d been so riled up from all the foreplay that he was already a desperate mess and talking was made even more difficult with the way Taehyun was mercilessly pounding into him from behind.

“M-More, please, I-I want more, f-fuuuck…”

His eyes roll back into his head as Taehyun angles his hips just right, giving his ass another couple of firm smacks. “Greedy bunny. Is my cock not enough for you? Come on then, Hyuka.”

Hyuka jolts in his seat, flushing under all the eyes now on him where he’d been timidly stroking himself over his sweatpants in contrast to Beomgyu and Yeonjun, who were shamelessly jerking themselves off next to him. “O-Okay— How do I…?”

Taehyun finally slows down to a stop, Soobin making a disappointed noise of protest until you’re manhandling him up with the leash again, back pressed to Taehyun’s chest.

“Lay down on the table,” you instruct, and Hyuka is just about as eager to please as Soobin is. “Take your clothes off. Actually,” you pause, a malicious idea forming in your mind, “Soobin, you do it. With your teeth, hands behind your back. Taehyunnie, keep fucking him.”

Both Hyuka and Soobin end up matching shades of jasper, the younger holding his breath subconsciously in anticipation. Soobin falls forward onto Hyuka’s chest at the resume of Taehyun’s powerful strokes, his cute little “Oof!” making you, Yeonjun and Beomgyu giggle at him, endeared. He ends up nuzzling Hyuka’s stomach, sliding his shirt up a little before grabbing it with his teeth, and Hyuka seems to only just remember how to breathe. He leans up to let Soobin peel back the fabric easier, but with one particularly rough thrust from behind, he falls forward again, instinctively bracing his fall with both hands on either side of the man beneath him.

He freezes, limbs locking up as it sinks in what he just did.

“What did I just say, Soobinnie?” You scold him coldly, pulling on the cord until he’s merely inches away from Hyuka’s face, who’s frozen still, heart beating out of his chest.

“Y-You said h-hands behind my back,” he breathes out, but he isn’t looking at you. His eyes are fixated on Hyuka’s mouth right in front of him, while the smaller boy is so overwhelmed and turned on his vision trembles. Tentatively leaning forward, he plants a light kiss on his lips, and Hyuka responds in kind – cupping the back of his neck and kissing him back with unbridled enthusiasm.

You nod at Taehyun, who clicks his tongue and grabs at Soobin’s wrists, pulling them behind him roughly and using his grip on them as leverage to keep pounding him ruthlessly. Soobin doesn’t seem to mind, messily attempting to keep kissing Hyuka, the two of them moaning into each other’s mouths.

Uncrossing your legs, you stand up and grab a fistful of Soobin’s hair, yanking him up to look at you, a thin string of saliva connecting him and Hyuka’s mouths. You only smirk when he lets out a needy whine, eyes struggling to stay open through the onslaught of pleasure from behind. “I gave you an order, bunny. Why are you being so disobedient today, hmm? Do I need to teach you a lesson?”

His eyes shoot open at the implication of punishment, people-pleaser mode going into overdrive as he shakes his head wildly and pulls out of your grip to grab Hyuka’s shirt in his teeth again. He can’t stop his body from quaking, but he doesn’t let then deter him from frantically tugging at the piece of clothing, and with a little subtle help from Hyuka, he manages to get his shirt off.

You don’t know which part of the view is more enticing – the newly exposed skin of Hyuka’s softly defined torso, or Soobin’s hasty attempts to please you with such a humiliating task.

When he leans down to go for his waistband, his teeth scrape against the skin there as he tugs down both his pants and boxers at the same time. Hyuka tries to steady his heavy breathing with little avail as his hard cock is freed from its constraints, leaking precum onto his stomach. Soobin waits for further instruction instead of getting impatient this time, so you smile at him and pet his hair, fixing his slightly crooked bunny ears.

“That’s a good boy.” Grabbing the lube, you squeeze some onto Hyuka’s dick, using your hand to cover him in it, the boy hissing at the cold sensation and bucking his hips up into your fist. “Taehyun, slow down. Let Hyuka in too.”

Soobin shivers, obediently letting you position him as you like. You slip two lube-covered fingers into him alongside Taehyun’s cock, stretching him out as much as you can, then positioning him to sink down onto Hyuka.

All three of them groan at Hyuka’s cock sliding into him. Soobin can’t help but tremble at the feeling of being so full, clenching hard around them both and making Taehyun’s grip around his wrists white knuckled; Hyuka’s head falls back with a muffled whine, lip pulled between his teeth.

“Fuck that’s so hot,” Yeonjun grunts, quick pumps of his hand bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Beomgyu, feeling generous, leans over to take the tip of his cock in his mouth, moving his hands away, and Yeonjun shudders and grabs his hair, pushing him down more. “Fuuuuck, I’m gonna cum— Soobinnie, look at me. Look at what you do to me, being a slutty little bunny for us— oh god, I’m c— I’m cumming—!”

Soobin can’t tear his eyes away, swivelling his hips down needily as Yeonjun cums in Beomgyu’s mouth, who kept sucking and swallowing until he was pushing him away. Beomgyu abruptly crashes his lips to Yeonjun’s, sloppily making out and shoving his own cum back into his mouth, the two groaning at the obscenity of it all. They always liked putting on a show, even as the supposed audience, but you hardly had it in you to complain.

Yeonjun then pulls him into his lap, shifting around the way they were facing so they could still side-eye Soobin and the rest of you while he frantically strokes Beomgyu’s cock in his hand.

“Good, make sure you keep watching him,” you hum, running your nails across his back, “After all, he’s dressed up so pretty for us today, taking two cocks in his little hole like a good boy. Isn’t that right, bunny?”

Soobin nods, pushing himself further down, tears springing to his eyes at the stretch. “O-Oh my go-od…”

“You okay?” Hyuka makes out through gritted teeth, gently cupping Soobin’s face. “Need a moment?”

He nods slowly, and Taehyun releases his wrists to run a hand through his own hair, a thin layer of sweat from his efforts coating his forehead. You know he’s been edging himself this whole time from your commands, and that’s not something he does lightly – when it’s his scene, he’ll manhandle you however he wants and work towards his orgasm himself if he has to, even if it means pinning you down and riding you until he cums. The only way to edge him was to restrain him, or, as you’ve now discovered, rope him into helping your scene with one of the other boys. Ah, the joys of polycules.

“Take your time,” Taehyun murmurs lowly, softly massaging his ass and smirking at how the rip in his tights spread wider.

Everyone waits patiently for him, mean sides dulled down in making sure your favourite little bunny doesn’t get hurt, and soon enough, he starts moving on his own, mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut as he fucks himself back onto them.

“Good boy,” you encourage him, nodding at the other two to move. They both grab onto him, Hyuka pressing a kiss to his nose and Taehyun kissing down his back before rolling their hips into him.

Soobin stills, clutching tightly onto Hyuka’s shoulders, then lets out the most harmonious sound – a long, drawn-out moan so erotic that you know would have him beet red if he was reminded of it later. Grinning at that thought, you gesture for one of the boys on the couch to film, and Beomgyu is quick to oblige, slipping his phone out and pointing the camera at the boys on the table.

“Say hi to the camera, bunny,” Beomgyu teases, zooming in on Soobin’s face, then to where Taehyun and Hyuka’s cocks were disappearing into him.

“H-Haaah, hh- ohh please – please touch my cock,” Soobin cries out, blinking up at you with teary eyes, hot with humiliation, then back at the camera, then back at you. “Please, I’ll b-be good…!”

“Be careful what you wish for,” you chuckle darkly, pulling his dick free from the tight leotard and stroking it. His sigh of relief breaks off into a moan, doubling over Hyuka again, but this time he’s prepared to catch him. Hyuka holds him tight and in place as he and Taehyun work in tandem to make his toes curl and vision go fuzzy, and just as he does exactly that, you grin.

“A-Ahh I-I’m gonna cum—!”

“Stop.”

All three boys groan at your command, but listen anyway, a rush flooding through you at the power trip of having them so obedient for you. More tears well up in Soobin’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks - silently, because he wouldn’t dare complain.

Your smile is sickeningly sweet, combing your fingers through Soobin’s hair and fixing his headband again, straightening out the ears. “Good boys. Soobinnie cums only when I give him permission to, not a moment earlier. Got it?”

“P-Please let me cum,” Soobin begs, “Please, I need it so bad, please…”

“I want you to cum around my cock, since you were so kind as to pick it out for me. Or have you changed your mind? Satisfied now that you’re getting fucked by two cocks at once?”

Soobin lets out another broken moan, Beomgyu grinning knowing he caught this one on camera. “N-No, I still want you too, I just— I just really want to cum…!”

“Oh? That’s not what you were saying in the store, telling me to tone it down and now here you are, begging me for more. No bunny, you’re not allowed to cum until you make Hyuka and Taehyunnie cum first.”

That’s all it takes to get Soobin moving again, grinding his hips in circles onto the two of them, and with shaky exhales, they continue where they left off.

Taehyun is brutal, snapping his hips forward hard and fast, grip on his hips tight enough to leave bruises. Usually he would be meaner, wanting to push Soobin further, but after fucking his tight hole for this long, his own desire to cum overpowered that urge. Meanwhile Hyuka, who was trying his best to keep up but overwhelmed by Taehyun’s cock sliding so deliciously against his, digs his nails into Soobin’s back as he fucks him, leaving pretty red lines along his shoulder blades. He wouldn’t usually dare cum first unless he physically couldn’t help it, but knowing that Soobin couldn’t cum until he did had him even more eager.

Soobin is noisier than you’ve ever heard him, but he tries to muffle it by sucking and biting at Hyuka’s neck – you all know he loves the marks you leave behind – but you don’t stand for that. Curling the leash around your fist, you pull again, and the surprised gasp he makes lets you know that he almost forgot he had it on still.

“I want to hear you baby, nice and loud.”

He’s even less coherent after that, his cute, needy little noises filling the air, and the struggle in his eyes only makes it even sweeter; every time he side-eyes Beomgyu’s camera, he bites his lip, clearly embarrassed at how lewd he sounds, then catches himself, torn between his own pride and his desire to obey. The humiliation is so much stronger when you make him do it himself, you realise, rather than relying on you to do all the work – like when you make him say what he wants with his own words, or demand to hear every moan and whimper loud enough for the camera to pick up.

With a growl, Taehyun pulls Soobin out of Hyuka’s grip and flush against his chest, holding him by the hips and sinking his perfect little teeth into his neck. Soobin’s body tenses up, eyes rolling back into his head, and he must’ve clenched so tight as Hyuka and Taehyun both let out a strangled groan of delight.

“Please, please cum for me,” Soobin pants, leaning his head back on Taehyun’s shoulder, “I-I need it, please…”

“Keep begging and I’ll consider it,” he grunts in response, breath quickening as he felt himself slowly drawing closer and closer to his high, “You sound so pretty when you beg, Soobinnie.”

“P-Please!” Soobin is at his wits end, running out of words or coherent thoughts to keep going with. His frantic blubbering quickly becomes incomprehensible beyond cries of please, want you so bad, need to cum, and strings of curses, but the smirk on Taehyun’s face tells you that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

You yank on the cord again. “Look at me, bun.”

He can barely keep his eyes open, twitching and whimpering in Taehyun’s iron grip, but he tries his damn best, blinking through the tears. You reward him by grabbing his cock again and jerking it quickly, and he ends up somehow flinching away from your touch at the same time as leaning into it.

“T-Too much— ____ please I’m really gonna cum please—”

“Not before your boyfriends do,” you tut, clicking your tongue.

“A-Ah, Taehyun, Hyuka, I’m so, so, so close please, please, please—!”

“M-Me too,” Hyuka whines, and you can see the visible relief of Soobin’s face as he relaxes – as much as one can relax while being pounded by two people and getting his dick stroked all at once – and lets them use his body to get off as they see fit.

Moments later, Hyuka cums with a call of Soobin’s name, deep inside him, biting down hard on his own lip as Taehyun kept fucking his cum back into him. Soobin falls over the edge right after him, back arching and body shuddering, only for you to cruelly pull your hand away from him again, watching it twitch helplessly and spurt cum all over Hyuka’s stomach and chest.

“W-Why…?” He mumbles blearily, barely keeping himself upright after the intensity of his orgasm, looking so absolutely wreckedthat you almost wanted to have mercy on him.

Almost.

“What did I say, baby?”

“I-I—” His words fizzle and die out as Taehyun gave him a particularly harsh thrust from behind, wrapping a veiny hand around his neck over the collar and squeezing lightly. You don’t even bother telling him to back off your scene this time, not anymore; you find you quite like seeing the rest of your boyfriends use him as they please.

“I wasn’t done with you yet, Soobinnie,” Taehyun hums next to his ear. The tears that spring into his eyes at the realisation seem to do it for him, though, as with a few more snaps of his hips, he cums in his ass with a low groan. Beomgyu makes sure to lean forward to catch it all on film as Taehyun slowly pulls Soobin off him and Hyuka, watching both of their cum drip from his hole and land on Hyuka’s twitching cock beneath him.

“Don’t let any more of that cum fall out, bun,” you instruct, giggling as he tries his best to hold it in but he’s been fucked so brutally it keeps spilling out. “Yeonjun, be a darling and go get a plug for him, will you?”

Yeonjun is quick to peel Beomgyu off his lap and get up, rushing over to his room to get one, while you gently pat Soobin’s hair and brush it out of his face to kiss his forehead.

“How are we doing, bunny? Colour?”

Soobin is barely there, but he offers you a weak yet genuine smile. “…Green.”

“Good boy.” You reward him with a soft kiss to his lips, a small reminder that you still love him under the mean exterior, then pull away to gesture at the mess of Hyuka he made beneath him. “Look at the mess you’ve made… without permission too. You were just that desperate, hmm?”

“Make him lick it off him,” Beomgyu pipes up, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other still holding the camera. “I wanna see him with cum all over his mouth like a dirty little slut.”

You stroll over to sit next to Beomgyu on the couch, batting his hand away so you could do it yourself. He shudders slightly, fucking into your fist eagerly. “I like the way you think, Gyu. Go on then, bunny, don’t miss a drop.”

He doesn’t have anything left in him to protest or even process his embarrassment anymore, simply listening without question and leaning down to start licking his own cum off Hyuka’s skin like it was his job to do so.

“F-Fuck,” Hyuka hisses, abs tensing up at Soobin’s mouth on him, “That’s so… god, that’s so hot. You’re incredible, Soobin.”

“Don’t forget to clean me up too,” Taehyun cuts in, a hand on Soobin’s head guiding him towards his cock, “You’re doing so well for us.”

Soobin smiles through his blush, the praise affecting him almost as much as all the degradation did, dutifully sucking Taehyun to near overstimulation before finishing up the mess he left on Hyuka. Yeonjun returns moments later, plug in hand, using it to wipe up the cum dribbling down his thighs before securing it in his ass, a pretty purple jewel on the end.

“Please tell me I can use him next.”

He feels like a goddamn doll being talked about like this, right in front of him no less – but he loves it, smiling dreamily with cum coating his lips and tongue.

“You and Beomgyu can use his mouth while I have my way with him. Come on bun, you’re gonna want to be on a bed for this one.”

First, he proudly presents to you the cum he had gathered, sticking his tongue out and blinking up at you with those big doe eyes. Unable to resist, you lean down and lick it right off his tongue, connecting your lips in the sloppiest of kisses, moaning appreciatively into his pretty mouth. When you pull apart, a thin line of spit and cum hangs from each of your lips, and you can hear the shutter sound of Beomgyu pressing the screenshot button while he records.

“See? I knew you could be a good bunny for me.”

Your words of affirmation have him glowing, smiling happily as he gets to his feet – albeit a little wobbly and leaning on Taehyun for support – and trails after you to the bedroom, leash in hand still.

He gets on the bed without needing any prompting from you, obediently sitting on his knees with his hands in his lap. You carefully work him out of the playboy bunny leotard, but leaving the collar, the tights, and the bunny ears on.

“Awh,” Beomgyu comments half-heartedly, “I liked the little tail on him.”

“We’ll get a bunny tail plug for him one of these days,” you decide, “But for now, not much else will be fitting in there along with me.”

Soobin watches, brimming with curiosity, as you go straight for your toy drawer again, this time pulling out a surprisingly small, remote-controlled vibe, followed by skin-safe tape.

His breath catches in his throat once he puts two and two together, gulping as you attach it to the head of his dick then toss Yeonjun the remote. Yeonjun snickers, immediately turning it up all the way, and Soobin jolts, grabbing at the nearest surface for purchase – that surface being you – and digging his nails in.

“____, a-ah I’m— I need you so ba-ad,” he chokes out, unable to keep still under the vibrations on his already sensitive cockhead so soon after cumming. He looks like he’s about to cry again, but he looks so damn cutewith puffy eyes, glassy with tears, so you simply kiss his brow and gently push him back onto the bed.

“And you have me,” you hum simply, grabbing the lube and lathering your strap with it as the rest of your boyfriends settle themselves on the bed and on chairs next to the bed, Beomgyu abandoning his phone recording in favour of taking his clothes off and situating himself next to Soobin on the bed. He doesn’t ask, but he doesn’t need to; Soobin automatically reaches out to him, big hands wrapping around his cock, then Yeonjun’s.

Pulling out the plug, you make him suck it clean while you press the tip of your cock to his twitching hole, shivering at the combination of the cold sensation and the toy abusing his dick.

“Turn it down a bit, Yeonjun,” you tell him calmly, “As much as I love to see our baby bunny writhe for me, he needs to be able to take me first.”

“Fiiine,” Yeonjun reluctantly agrees, turning it off, and Soobin instantly relaxes, feeling like he can finally breathe again.

All up until you push the end of the massive toy into him, and his eyes fly open, then quickly roll back into his head as more of its length makes its way inside him.

“More,” he pants, aggressively jerking the two boys in his hands and leaning his hips toward you, “I can- I can t-take it, ooh fuck…”

You take your time, slowly and steadily pushing into him and stretching out his already gaping hole even wider, then still yourself so he can catch his breath. He gratefully inhales more air into his lungs until he relaxes, smiling hazily up at you. He’s on cloud fucking nine, and it’s one of your absolute favourite looks on him. “Ah, it’s so big…”

“Bunny, it’s not even halfway in yet.”

He swears he almost cums in that moment, hissing between gritted teeth, his cock twitching as it lies flat on his stomach. “Fuuuck… more, please.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a moment—”

“More, please.”

“Let’s not rush, bun,” you tut softly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His hands quicken their pace around your boyfriends, brows furrowing as he clenches around what little of the strap you’ve given him. “Ngh… sorry… I just really want you to fuck me…!”

You brush off the way his words send heat flooding down south and pour more lube onto the toy before pushing in a little more, thrusting in and out lightly, thoroughly impressed at how much he was able to take. “Who knew we had such a greedy cockslut among us, hmm? You just love being stuffed to the absolute brim.”

“M-More.”

When you don’t move fast enough for him, he grabs at your hips and hooks his legs around yours, shoving himself all the way down onto the toy with a guttural moan, eyes squeezed shut and back arching off the bed.

“Careful, bun!” You chastise him, laughing breathlessly at his enthusiasm and gently massaging at his thighs, “You can get hurt like that.”

“S-Sorry,” he grunts, barely cracking open his eyes to meet yours with that beautifully dazed grin of his. “I can’t help it, it just… it feels so good.”

Shivers go down your spine at his low, husky confession, and after hours of teasing him, even you’ve reached your limit.

You want to completely ruin him.

Pulling hard on the leash with one hand and scraping your nails along his abdominal muscles with the other, you finally, finallystart fucking him. His head flies back into the pillows, a broken gasp leaving his throat as his whole body is wracked by the pleasure between his legs, and that’s when Yeonjun decides to switch the bullet on his dick back on again.

“F-Fuck— oh my god!” He nearly screams out your name, tears springing to his eyes once more. Yeonjun and Beomgyu guide his hands towards them, and Soobin attempts to be a good boy and get them off, but his pace is inconsistent and erratic from the force of you giving it to him. He doesn’t even try and bite back his sounds this time, way too far gone; he chants your name like a prayer, or a curse – it’s too much and not enough all at once, and any solid thoughts he had in his head are replaced with simply you.

You, towering over him and making him feel so small and helpless despite him being the tallest in the room, you, with a pussy but having a bigger dick than all of them, you, seeping under his skin and filling all his senses until he feels like he can’t breathe. He’ll gladly drown in you, he thinks, each shift of you inside him and stretching him out sending him further under.

“Oh fuck ____ n-not there, don’t— stop— ah!”

They’re empty words and you both know it – he doesn’t even know if he’s saying don’t and stop or don’t stop anymore – so you keep thrusting into him hard enough to make his body shake; even though he already couldn’t stop quivering at the overstimulation of his dick, thrashing around wildly on the bed and bending his bunny ears out of shape against the pillows.

“Where, here?” You tease, angling your hips to hit the same spot that had him seizing, mouth hanging open and crying out your name over and over. “What was that, you wanted me to… stop?”

You slow down to a standstill, and Soobin whines brokenly, pitifully pushing himself back onto you. “N-No, I didn’t— I didn’t mean—”

He’s crying again, with Yeonjun and Beomgyu jerking each other off again while fighting over the remote, turning it up and down repeatedly and not giving Soobin a chance to breathe.

“Aww,” Yeonjun coos, leaning down to kiss the tears off his cheeks, “Our cute little Soobinnie. What’s your colour?”

“Green, the g-greenest of greens— please, please keep going, I’ll be a good boy, I p-promise— ah-ah, fuck! T-Too much, too mu- a-ah!”

Beomgyu giggles, a hand wrapped around Soobin’s weeping cock and rubbing his thumb into the tip while the vibrator buzzed away still, overwhelming him so much it hurt – but he didn’t want it to stop. He can’t stop crying, sobbing and hiccupping in a way he thinks is unflattering, but the effect it has on the rest of you implies quite the opposite.

“I thought you wanted us to keep going. Now it’s too much?” Beomgyu points out his contradiction with faux confusion, laughing cruelly at how much Soobin struggles. It only serves to embarrass him even more, but it’s almost as if he can’t control his words; like they all come tumbling out before he can stop them.

“P-Please,” he whines again, broken and running out of things to say that wouldn’t dig him deeper into a hole. “Please!”

“What are you begging for, Soobinnie?” You press, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head; with a single nod to Yeonjun he knows what to do, digging through your drawers until he finds some pretty pink silk ties, getting to work tying Soobin’s wrists to the headboard while he frantically blinks away his tears and tries to get words out through his sobs.

“Y-You, please, w-want you— f-fuck I’m— o-oh my g-god, I’m gonna cum again—!”

“Again?” Yeonjun seems genuinely impressed, pushing you back to see Soobin’s cock jumping in Beomgyu’s grasp, only to spill cum all over himself with a shaky moan. He cums hard enough to get some all the way on his collarbones and chest, Yeonjun diving down to lick it up and circle his tongue around Soobin’s nipple, then graze his teeth against it.

“Fu-uuuck!”

You’ve definitely never heard Soobin so loud and so utterly wrecked,but it’s a beautiful sound. You decide to take that as a cue to start fucking the giant toy back into his ass, Taehyun and Hyuka’s cum from earlier spilling out onto the sheets and making them both groan from the sidelines. Soobin writhes in his restraints, but Yeonjun is a practiced rigger, so the knots don’t give, only serving to make the lean muscle in his arms flex and give everyone a brilliant view.

“Such pretty noises,” Yeonjun hums, “Can you make them with my cock stuffed in your mouth, hm?”

Soobin obediently opens his mouth, but Beomgyu grabs him by the hair and nudges him towards his cock instead.

“I sucked you off earlier, it’s my turn,” he growls, shoving his dick as far down Soobin’s throat as he lets him. “Fuuuck, so wet and warm…”

“Wow,” Yeonjun huffs at the audacity, but only ends up grabbing Beomgyu by the chin and crashing their lips together, heatedly making out in an angry way that was not unfamiliar to them both. Taking Beomgyu’s wrist that wasn’t occupied holding Soobin’s head down on his cock, he guided him to jack him off next to Soobin’s face, who kept moaning around Beomgyu enough to make him shiver.

“Look at you, bunny… all stretched out nice and wide for me, both your holes stuffed with cock… isn’t he pretty?” You turn to Taehyun and Hyuka, the latter of which was sitting in his lap, grinding on each other languidly with their eyes locked on the scene in front of them.

“S-So pretty,” Hyuka chokes out, the simple grinding getting him all worked up while the sensitivity from his earlier orgasm still lingered. “Ah, our Soobinnie… he’s taking you so w-well.”

Taehyun chuckles, pulling Hyuka’s hips against him and making him whine. “He’s a total mess for us. Look at him, cum in his ass, on his chest, in his mouth soon enough… and always begging for more. He’s our insatiable little bunny, isn’t he? He just loves it when we ruin him like this.”

Soobin is too caught up in it to act embarrassed now; the twinge of humiliation still makes his dick twitch, but he just nods dutifully, mouth still full of Beomgyu’s dick, accepting it with a twisted sense of pride.

Grabbing his long legs, you hook them over your shoulders and push them closer to his chest, grinning at the muffled cry from around Beomgyu, fucking him at a new angle, the impressively big toy only hitting even deeper. He puts up the peace sign where his wrists are tied, a sign familiar with all of you, so Beomgyu lets go of his hair and lets him take in greedy gasps of air, babbling something incomprehensible as he feels fuller than he ever thought he could.

“Feel it… s-so deep, ah!” He moans your name again, craning his neck to see where your hips met. You press a hand on his cum-covered stomach, where your cock was battering his prostate repeatedly, and the mangled cry he lets out is music to your ears.

“Gonna cum for me one more time, bun?” You ask, leaning down to kiss and lick and bite along his chest, wanting him not just to feel your touch on him the next morning, but also see it every time he looks in the mirror.

“C-Can’t, too much,” Soobin whimpers, his voice whiny and high-pitched and so damn cute you almost can’t stand it. “B-But I— I wanna be a g-good bunny for yoooou… ahh, ngh—!”

“You’re the best bunny for us,” you remind him gently, leaving a vaguely heart-shaped hickey right above his collarbone. “You sure you don’t have one more for us, mm? Come on, just one.”

He feels like his brain has liquified and spilled out his ears, nodding in a daze, drunk on you. He doesn’t even flinch when Yeonjun cums on his face, or when you bring your hand to his lips to clean his own essence off it, or when Beomgyu follows through not long after and adds his cum to the filthy mix of sweat and cum and spit on Soobin’s torso.

One of them turns up the vibrator strapped to his cock again, but Soobin’s voice has grown hoarse, instead just letting out hiccup-y sobs and whines as his climax creeps up on him for the fourth time that night. At this point, his own name sounds more foreign to him than yours, and with one final, violent shudder and noisy whimper, his high seizes him again.

His dick twitches, weakly leaking the little cum he had left down the shaft, and Yeonjun turns off the vibrator as you slow down and start pulling out, Soobin barely able to keep his eyes open.

Covered in cum, hickeys, tears, and on a leash still, bunny ears crooked from all his thrashing and tights ripped and stained, he looks absolutely glorious in the most sinful of ways; so much so you decide to grab the nearest phone and take a few photos while he caught his breath, panting like he just ran a marathon.

“Don’t… Don’t you wanna get off, too?”

Those are the first words Soobin manages to get out after all that huffing and puffing. You smile, softly this time – without the dark undertone to it that it had for most of the day. “You’re on the brink of consciousness right now, bunny. It’s okay. One of the others can take care of me, okay?”

He nods brainlessly, so deep in subspace that he’s inclined to agree with anything you say. You kiss him tenderly, then look around at the others. “Hyuka, go get a bath running – as pretty as he looks like this, it won’t be as fun if it dries. Taehyun, you’ll be able to carry him there, right? I don’t think he’ll be able to walk well. And maybe get to changing these sheets after. Yeonjun, grab some water for him and maybe something to eat – whether you order takeout or cook or make instant ramen, up to you. Beomgyu—”

“I’ll take care of you,” he interrupts as the others start on the tasks you’ve assigned them.

“Wh—"

He doesn’t give you any room to protest, crawling over to you and kissing you slowly, working the straps of your harness off and setting it aside. He’s a stupidly good kisser, effectively taking your breath away and making you melt into his touch.

“What happened to not taking over other people’s scenes, Gyu?” You exhale breathlessly once you pull apart, resting your foreheads together. He chuckles, pecking your lips affectionately. The gesture is so intimate and gentle it almost catches you off guard – you lean in for more, but he pulls back with a little grin to tease you just that little bit more.

“Don’t be bratty, we both know your scene is over. You’re all wound up from all that, let me make you feel good while they take care of Soobin, okay?”

You don’t have anything clever to say to that, relaxing as you step down and relinquish your control to him. He seems a lot calmer as well, no longer trying to be mean or a tease, reverently kissing down your body and splaying you out on the bed once Taehyun takes Soobin away.

I’m plenty wet already, you can hurry up now, you want to say, but the words die on your tongue as Beomgyu continues worshipping your body like it’s a divine gift. It’s so tender, so nice, so you can’t complain, even when you’re aching for him, your body begging for its release.

Once he leaves enough love bites on your skin to satisfy him, he brings his face in front of your cunt and waits no longer, diving right in. He licks up every drop of you he can get on his tongue, moaning into you appreciatively and sucking at your clit hard enough to make your thighs clamp around his head on instinct. His long hair is perfect for pulling, so you do exactly that, tangling your hand in it and tugging him impossibly closer, earning you a baritone growl from the back of his throat that has you trembling.

“B-Beomgyu—"

Your breath quickly leaves your lungs when he adds his fingers as well, pushing and curling in all the right places; it’s almost embarrassing how well he knows you by now, playing your body like a finely tuned instrument, your gasps of his name his favourite song.

You’re so keyed up from teasing Soobin all day that your high approaches you fast enough to catch you off guard, suddenly hitting you all at once and flooding through your entire body; Beomgyu coaxes you through it, letting you grind on his tongue and getting his face covered in your wetness, continuing until you were physically pushing him away and cringing at the overstimulation.

“Can’t handle what you dish out, hmm?” Beomgyu can’t help but comment cockily, laughing at your unamused glare at him. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll be nice. Do you want to cum again? I could do this all day, you know.”

“I know you can… alright, one more time. A-Ah—!”

By the time Beomgyu is done with you, Soobin is all washed up and being carried and tucked into bed, with the promise of being woken up when dinner arrives. In the bathroom, Hyuka is already running a new bath with clean water for you, beaming invitingly.

“Wanna wash up with me?”

You nod gratefully, climbing into the tub with him and letting it fill up slowly, the warm water doing wonders to soothe your tired muscles. You express your gratitude by helping him scrub down, and he repays the favour in kind, softly humming a serene tune.

“You know, just because you were in charge n’ all doesn’t mean you can’t get aftercare too,” Hyuka reminds you, kissing your cheek.

Yeonjun pokes his head in the doorway at that, giving you that cutely scrunched up grin he always does. “Did someone say a dominant who needs aftercare?”

“Mhm…”

He takes that as his cue to come inside, shedding his remaining articles of clothing and joining you and Hyuka in the tub, the water overflowing and getting all over the bathroom floor. Your legs are all cramped, especially their tall and gangly frames, but none of you seem to care. Yeonjun pulls your back to his chest, reverently kissing along your shoulder and idly running his hands across you and Hyuka’s bodies, who tenderly washes you and Yeonjun’s hair. It’s nice, you think. Real nice. The kind of nice that reminds you of everything good in the world.

“You two look like cats,” Hyuka giggles, scratching softly at your scalps as he massages the shampoo through it and gazing at you ever so fondly as the two of you deflate into smiley idiots under his affectionate touch. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” you mumble back as if it was some kind of insult, but that only serves to make him giggle even more.

Yeonjun catches onto the giggles too, but quickly collects himself before he gets carried away. “You’re both cuties. Let me wash your hair too, Hyuka.”

Caught between them, you don’t mind lazily worshipping Hyuka’s body with your mouth while Yeonjun leans over you to wash his hair, happy to be caught between the two bodies of warmth and feeling safe and loved caged between them.

“Maybe next time, you should be our pet, ____,” Yeonjun suggests cheekily, nipping at your ear. “Tell me that doesn’t sound appealing, eh? Having all of us have our turns with you?”

“Mm, that does sound nice,” you murmur, almost salivating at the thought. As much as you like bossing them around, the thought of swapping places with Soobin had you all sorts of curious. “You’d all take care of me?”

“We’re taking care of you right now, aren’t we?” Hyuka chimes in, gently massaging the tension from your shoulders. “Although I think the others will be keen on ruining you too.”

“I do like it when you can take as much as you dish out,” Yeonjun comments, rinsing your hair and laughing at you blubbering at the water. It’s a little embarrassing, but with the way Yeonjun looks down at you and smiles, you think you’re starting to see why Soobin likes it so much. “And I know you can take that and more. Right?”

“Is that a challenge?” You scoff, shifting around to face him and give him a playful smirk, to which he just bops you on the nose.

“There’s that spark. I see you’ve come back to Earth now! Come on, let’s get out before we go all pruny.”

Drying each other is full of just as many giggles and kisses as bathing each other was, and Yeonjun ends up tucking you and Hyuka into bed with Soobin as he waits on the takeout, you and Hyuka curling around Soobin from either side and peppering him with kisses.

“You did so well for us today, Soobinnie, you were such a good bunny,” you hum softly, his eyes fluttering as he struggles to keep himself awake. “Don’t worry. You can nap now until the food gets here.”

Soobin nods drowsily, snuggling closer and tucking you under his chin, Hyuka clinging to his back.

“I love you,” he mumbles faintly against the crown of your head. “All of you.”

You kiss his sternum and hear Hyuka do the same to the back of his neck before you both reply in unison,

“We love you too.”