always find me

rin. they/them. 23+. minors dni.

[lixtokki]

quick abt: ˟ hi i'm rin + this is my navigation pls enjoy your visit ˟ i'm non-binary + use they/them pronouns. any genered terms r ok w/ me! ˟ this blog is strictly skz !! but my other ult grp is red velvet <3 hehe

my work + more: ˟ you can find all my work here! ˟ all my work is 18+ ˟ as of rn, all my fics r abt chan... which is why there's no navigation... soon tho i swear ˟ feel free to send me asks / requests..!! if one piques my interest i might write it .. <3

[lixtokki]

Holy shit I just went through some of your Chan drabbles and I am speechless.

Really.

Loved them. Amazing work!!!!!

omg i’m actually in shock rn because you’re probably my fav writer on here, i’ve been reading your fics ever since i got into skz WOW T_T

thank you so much!!!!! i’m so taken aback rn!! thank you so much for your ask and your nice reblog comments ;;

[lixtokki]

do you have a link for your masterlist?

i don’t have an official masterlist since all my fics are about chan hehe

all my work is here :—)

[matryosika]

𝗕𝗲𝘁

Pairing — Jisung and reader

Wordcount — 3,233 words

Includes — Spit/drool kink, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, slight dumbification, oral sex (m. receiving), cum eating.

Author's Note — This is the first thing I write in a few months. Pretty please excuse me if my writing is a bit rusty or off, haha, I will try to do my best in the next works! It has been a while since I have been active around here, but I feel ready to be back. I hope you guys like this, and if you do, please leave an encouraging message or reply on this post! I will be more than thankful, as it would motivate me to stop procastinating! You know the drill, please excuse any mistakes, as english is not my first language.

If you enjoyed my work, please consider tipping me on my ko-fi! ☕ I would really appreciate it, with the upcoming college semester.

You couldn’t tell what was sillier. Betting on something like that? Or betting on something like that with Jisung?

From the moment his eyes shined with that spark you had grown to know well, you just knew you were in trouble.

“Actually, I take that back,” you murmured as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. “It’s pointless”.

“No,” Jisung teased you, softly tickling your body as a way to grab your attention, “repeat what you just said”.

“I- I didn’t say anything,” you barked in between laughs, both of your legs desperately trying to kick him. “Come on- don’t be childish”.

“You don’t be childish,” he spatted, the corners of his lips raising in that characteristic smirk he always had when he was up for a challenge. “Repeat what you just said and I’ll stop”. 

“Sungie-” you hysterically growled, writhing under his body as you tried to release yourself from his touch. “I was joking-”.

The struggle only lasted for about a minute or two until Jisung managed to grab both of your wrists, pinning them above your head and positioning his body on top of yours to prevent you from moving. “Now, what did you say?” 

You looked at him with a challenging look, still trying to stabilize your breath after the sudden confrontation. “I said-”. 

Jisung was looking at you with half-lidded eyes, his gaze taunting you into speaking. You knew that if you were to say a single word, he would not let you get away from the situation easily and, although you didn't really feel like starting a debate, the stubborn part of you spoke before your mind could decide otherwise. 

“I said that I can make you come faster than you can make me,” you mumbled with a proud smirk plastered on your face —the kind of smirk that Jisung always found insufferable. 

“You know you are lying,” he lowered his body to get closer to yours, so close that you could feel his breath caressing the sides of your cheek. “Admit that it isn't true and I will let it go”.

Even though he meant it, Jisung actually didn’t want to let it go. He secretly wanted you to put up a fight —a childish one at that— just so that he could prove how wrong you truly were. 

“We don’t know that,” you breathed, feeling tense by the position you two were in. “I’ve made you come a lot of times and you’ve made me come just as much, but we don’t really know who gets there faster”. 

“Of course that’s you,” he replied with no hesitation. “Sometimes all it takes me is a few words to have you coming undone with just my fingers,”. 

You felt the skin on your face getting hotter as Jisung's smirk grew prouder, showing you just how much he knew your weak spots —dirty talk. 

“Alright, enough,” you murmured, feeling embarrassed by how turned on you were with very little. You pushed him off of you and straightened your body on the bed. “I don’t know what I said that, I just wanted to tease you a little bit”. 

“You are just saying that because you know I am right,” he protested. “But it worries me that you actually think that”. 

“It worries you?” you scoffed.

“Mhm,” Jisung hummed. “Because if you really think you can make me come faster than I can make you come, then that means you are underestimating me”. 

You threw him a pillow across the bed, to which he didn't bother to catch. “Well, you can’t be the best at everything”. 

You knew you were signing your sentence right then and there, but you didn’t care. Of course, it didn't fully dawn on you until you caught a glimpse of his tongue poking his cheek, and that rivalry gaze he always had whenever someone doubted him or his abilities. 

“Are you sure about that?”

When you met Jisung, and during one of those midnight conversations that were oblivious to inhibitions, you confessed to him that no man had ever made you come before. At the time, and even though you and him were just roommates and not roommates with benefits, he made it his personal goal to be the first to make you come. 

Ever since then, it was safe to say that out of all the men you had been intimate with, Jisung was, by far, the best one.

“Don’t you have classes tomorrow morning?” you asked in an attempt to avoid his question knowing well that any answer given could start a dispute. 

“That’s not relevant,” he murmured, nonchalantly.

“You are willing to lose hours of sleep over this?,” you queried, “If I were you, I would've gone to bed already”.

“And going to sleep knowing that you think that highly of yourself?” he taunted, letting out a small scoff while his hand reached out to caress your bare legs. 

“You are so fucking stubborn,” you snarled under your breath once you felt goosebumps because of his touch. “You are not going to let it go, are you?”

“I think you know me well enough to know that I love challenges,” Jisung whispered, slowly dragging his hand from your leg to your inner thigh. “And I love them even more if they involve you”.

That was true —you knew Jisung well. If you had to describe him with one adjective, you would go with competitive; it wasn’t a negative trait at all, if anything, that quality made him excel in every aspect of his life. But when it came to you, that competitiveness was always intensified. It wasn’t that Jisung wanted to compete with you all the time though;  it was that he wanted to compete with everyone to prove to you that no one was as good as him. That situation wasn’t that different. 

“So?”

“So let me prove to you that I am right,” he murmured, shifting his position on the bed to get closer to you. “Let me prove to you that I am the best in making you come. Time-wise”. 

“Now I really can’t go to bed either, knowing you think this highly of yourself,” you sneered, only to realize that every single one of your words and actions were, unconsciously, aiming to make Jisung eager.

“Should I prove you wrong, then?” he purred, his lips getting dangerously close to your ear while his hand continued to slide in between your thighs. “Should I take my time with you —edging you for hours on end until I get tired of hearing how bad you want to come?”.

It was almost pathetic how much power Jisung had over you. Even with just a faint touch and a few words from him, your heart was already racing and your cheeks were burning; of course, you were too embarrassed to admit that, although he could notice it well.

“But edging wouldn’t prove anything here,” he continued, clearly without expecting an answer from you. “You think I can’t make you come fast enough, and edging you would only prove your statement right”. 

“So what is it going to be?” you queried, feeling his touch getting closer to where you needed him the most. “Will you get back at me for teasing you, or will you make me come just to boost your ego?” 

“Making you come doesn't boost my ego a lot,” Jisung murmured, leaving a trail of wet pecks from your earlobe to the crook of your neck. "But getting you this wet without doing anything surely does".

You didn't have to see him to know that the corners of his lips were raised in a taunting smirk. 

“You are insufferable,” you held back a whimper when you felt his lips nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Mhm,” he hummed, dragging your shorts off of your body. “And you are too proud”.

Slowly, he took off your pajama bottoms along with your panties and blouse, leaving you completely exposed.

“See?” he scoffed, guiding two of his fingers to your dripping cunt, “nothing boosts my ego like this”. 

Jisung kneeled right in front of your body with his hips facing you, placing one hand between your thighs while the other caressed your hair. He didn't need to give you an order for your hands to lower his pajama sweatpants, freeing his throbbing cock.

“Someone’s hungry?” he joked, hissing once he felt your hand wrapping around his dick.

“Shut up,” you quietly murmured, fearing that if you were to raise your voice, it would crack. 

At first, his touch wasn't too intense. It seemed as if he was teasing you, caressing you without putting any pressure on your clit or thrusting his fingers inside your warm pussy —but it was just enough to have you holding back a few moans and whimpers already.

Your body wasn't too sensitive nor too responsive, but it was when it came to Jisung. One word, one provocative gaze or even one innocent touch from him, and you were already clenching around thin air; knowing you well, it wasn’t going to take him much to prove to you how wrong you were. 

“How long do you think it will take me?” he asked, slowly slipping two of his fingers inside. “Two minutes? Two and a half?”

You let out a loud sigh —mixed with a faint whimper— once you felt your walls clenching around his digits, and Jisung couldn’t help but smile. “Perhaps one?” 

Once his fingers started to acquire a pace, your hand stroked his length equally to the thrusts of his digits. It was  pretty much like team work, he satisfied you and you satisfied him —however, it was the competitiveness and stubbornness that made it a challenge.

“And how long do you think it would take me?” you queried with an attempt of a firm voice in between whimpers. “Two, three?”

Jisung let out a small scoff, swallowing hard once he saw your lips approaching his length.

“Perhaps I can make it in one, too,” with that being said, you guided his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, losing the rhythm he previously had acquired on his fingers.

“You drive me crazy,” Jisung muttered through gritted teeth, repressing every single sound that could escape through his lips. “You really make me want to fuck your mouth just so that you can stop talking”. 

“Mhm?” you hummed around his dick, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body.

That, instead of further weakening his pace, only gave him a bright idea.

“Mhm,” he assured, opening his eyes to look down on you. “And you would like that too, wouldn’t you?”

You continued bopping your head on his cock, just as much as the pleasure he was providing you allowed you to. At times, his digits felt so overwhelming inside you that you lost your grip on the moment, drooling around his dick like a mindless mess —that only got worse once he started to open his mouth.

“Because that’s what good, pretty, obedient sluts like,” Jisung taunted, smiling once he got what he was looking for —feeling your walls clenching and your body reacting to his words exactly the way he wanted them to. “And you are the prettiest slut, aren’t you?”

Your eyes started to tear up as you forced your head down on his cock, part of it even reaching your throat; if he chose to use your weakness against you, you were determined to do the same. You took as much of him as you could, filling your mouth with his cock until saliva started to run down your chin and into your chest —something he definitely couldn’t resist. 

“Fuck, you look so filthy like this,” Jisung grunted, thrusting his fingers even deeper just for the sake of hearing you moaning against his cock. “With your legs spread and your mouth drooling like the dumb slut you are”. 

You didn't think it was possible, but you were getting wetter and wetter at each word that left Jisung's lips —it was that impressive that you were sure your bedsheets were already a mess, and the fact that Jisung was spitting on your cunt didn't help at all.

“You have no idea how much I am holding myself back from fucking your mouth,” he hissed, giving you one of those provocative gazes that made you clench your cunt tighter around him, “but first-”.

With the palm of his hand, he applied pleasure to your clit while his fingers kept on fucking your tight hole. Instinctively, both of your legs tried to close shut around his wrist, but Jisung didn’t allow it. 

“Already?” he cockily muttered, increasing the roughness of his ministrations. 

You knew you were going to lose, but you no longer cared —all you wanted was to come, and it was painfully obvious.

“Jisung-” you whispered, weakly stroking his length. There was a string of saliva mixed with precum connecting your lips to his cock, and he couldn’t help but throb at the sight. “Fuck, Jisung-”.

“Tell me, baby,” he taunted, smiling while chewing on his bottom lip to prevent him from being too loud. 

“Ji-'' there was no point in acting proud anymore, especially when your orgasm was just a few seconds away. If it wasn’t obvious from your soaking pussy and the way your walls aggressively tightened around Jisung’s digits, your inability to suck him off properly, your curling toes and the fact that you could barely keep your eyes open were selling you out. 

But, contrary to your belief, Jisung wasn't that far from his climax either —the way you teased him and the way your body reacted to his touch every time was enough for him to lose his sanity. However, you were too into your own world that you didn’t notice when his cock started twitching inside your grip. 

“I am going to come,” you panted, feeling a couple of tears gathering at the corners of your eyes; you knew you were doomed, but the stubborn part of you was still trying to resist the orgasm. 

“Go on,” Jisung groaned, holding your head against his dick. 

You were too overwhelmed to take his cock into your mouth, so all you could do was to brush the tip of his cock against your wet lips while occasionally licking it and smearing your drool along its length. For some reason, the sight made Jisung ten times harder —you looked desperate both to come and to keep on sucking him off, even though your mind was far gone to complete such a simple task. That was what made him hard, the amount of power he had over you.

“Don’t hold back,” he added, almost losing its composure in between. He knew you were about to come, but so was he —you were good at postponing your climax, as he had trained you by edging you, but he was completely clueless on how to do that. “Be a good slut and show me how good I am making you feel”.

There it was again, the signal that his words held a lot more power than he thought. You arched your back and gripped his cock harder, making Jisung buck his hips unconsciously against your hand. 

“Your cunt is dripping wet,” he cooed with broken words, suppressing his orgasm as much as he could. “It would be so easy to push my cock inside, inch by inch”.

“Jisung-” you gasped, moving your hand frantically against his erection. 

“And a good slut like you would take it all, wouldn’t you?” Jisung asked with a hitching breath. “You are always so eager to have your holes filled, I am even impressed to know that two of my fingers are enough for someone as desperate as you”.

You arched your back again, increasing the movements on your wrist. Jisung’s words, combined with his touch, were driving you to the edge and you just couldn’t fight your climax any longer.

“Look at me when I am using you,” he demanded, using the hand that was once holding your head against his cock to lift your face up, “just so you won’t forget who is really the only one who can make you feel this good”.

“Fuck-,” you whined, grinding your hips against his fingers even harder. Your toes were curled and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, even with the effort you were putting into maintaining eye contact with him. “I- can’t-”.

“Just like that,” Jisung growled, feeling your walls spasming around his digits. “Keep on going”.

You arched your back at the sinful noises that were leaving his lips, which were only prolonging your orgasm further —wave after wave of pleasure were washing up over your body.

“Oh, God-” you breathed, just as you approached the highest point of your climax. Your whole body writhed under him, gripping the bed sheets with one of your hands while the other held the base of his cock tight, still with your lips sloppily brushing against the tip of it. 

And it was then, when Jisung could feel his fingers getting coated with your fluids and your warm saliva teasing the tip of his cock, where he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

When you reached your orgasm, Jisung did too.

With a loud groan, he squirted his hot cum on your chest, lips and part of your face. Neither you or him cared about the messiness of it all, in fact, you both liked it a lot. So even after reaching both of your orgasms you teased his softening cock with your lips, licking it along with the remains of his cum.

“Don’t do that,” Jisung hissed, softly caressing your swollen clit. 

“Afraid you might come again?” you queried with a mocking smile.

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” he asked you with shortness of breath, licking his lips at the sight of his semen all over your face. “You were so bold just a few minutes ago, yet you were the one who came first”. 

“Maybe,” you murmured, dragging your fingers close to your lips so you could collect some of his arousal and lick it. “It was a silly bet, yet I ended up having one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had”.

“Mh, is that so?” Jisung asked, repeating your action and collecting some of his own arousal from your breasts. He then guided his digits, which were coated with your fluids and his cum, to your mouth, making you suck on them clean. “Perhaps we should bet more often”.

“As if we don’t fuck enough already,” you scoffed, his voice being somewhat muffled by his fingers inside your mouth. 

“I know we do, but I don’t even want to think of you underestimating what I can do,” he mumbled, caressing your hair as he was still kneeling right next to you. “So if betting silly things is what will take for you to realize I am the one who knows how to pleasure your body best, then that's what we are going to do”.

© matryosika. reposting my work in any form or platform is not allowed.

[lixtokki]

nobody like you

pairing: chan x reader (afab) word count: 3.3k rating: 18+ warnings: spanking! marking! possession kink!! unprotected sex a/n: hello i'm back!!!!! a nice long fic for my return hehe. this was half written while i was stoned so yk if there's errors i'm sorry

summary: weeks pass after your breakup with chris and his number continues to burn a hole in your phone.

your friends had given you every reasonable explanation under the sun to block chris’ number, to completely rid your life of his presence. you’d blocked his social media accounts, you’d taken back the spare key to your apartment, you’d even changed the netflix password. but, night after night, your thumb hovered warily over the ‘block contact’ prompt in your phone. press it and he’s gone, it was that simple. maybe that’s why you hesitate. 

everyone had warned you it was no good to leave a communication line open between you. apparently chris has been pegged as the type of man to abuse such a thing. it almost stings when weeks pass since your messy breakup and you’ve not heard anything. no pleading texts that your friends assured you would eventually come. no voicemails. nothing.

now what were you supposed to do? move on? it was finally sinking in that you had broken up — a decision you made in earnest after too many arguments that never got resolved; it was for the best, and yet. you miss him. you miss everything about him. or maybe you miss a feeling of toxicity that was so shrouded in familiarity that it started to feel like home. 

so, you do what anyone in their heartbroken, wrong mind would do. you go out, get drunk and prowl for a rebound; a quick fuck that will hopefully be, at the very least, a bandage for the gaping wound chris had left in his absence.

the guy you bring home is nothing special. honestly, you don’t even remember his name. he barely fucks you before spilling into the condom embarrassingly early and you tell him to just go when he awkwardly asks you if you came yet. stuffing his flaccid cock back into his jeans, he leaves your place in a flash, head hung low in shame. 

so much for that.

rolling your eyes, you drag your hand down your naked body, dipping your fingers into the very bare minimum of wetness he’d procured. letting your mind wander, you begin rubbing slow circles against your clit. thinking about… well. chris. you frown at the thought. rather unwillingly, your mind visits memories of just how good chris could fuck. it might be the only thing you’ll miss in the long run. a smile returns to your face at the recollection, chris mercilessly pounding into you with a hand gripped around your throat. a moan tumbles from your mouth and you freeze. your eyes fall to the phone resting on the nightstand. or more, what’s inside the phone.

you try to seriously consider this. it has too much potential to go wrong. but you’re so hard up on the sheer thought of him that you don’t care. keeping your fingers pressed to your clit, you snatch up the phone in your free hand, swiping away furiously until you find his number. calling… now that would be risky. too much of a risk that you’re not willing to take. moaning again, you type out a message to him. 

you: can’t stop thinking about u and i’m wet af

the thought that chris might ignore you doesn’t occur until you hit send, throwing your message into the void. your anxiety is short lived however as your phone almost immediately buzzes with a response.

chris: yeah? miss me that bad? 

you: yeah. just had the worst fuck of my life

chris: is that so?

you keep chris’ penchant for possessiveness at the forefront of your mind for this conversation, smiling coyly at your phone while your fingers work slowly at your clit. 

you: i didn’t even get to finish :(

chris: that’s too bad. baby will just have to finish herself off

and, you do. with chris’ texts guiding you, you rub yourself all the way to orgasm, legs shaking, mouth agape. you picture him here, buried inside you, his phantom moans music to your ears. in the heat of the moment he’d often tell you that nobody could ever make you feel as good as he does, and you’re starting to think he might’ve been right. 

the sexting quickly becomes a habit. a little secret you and chris share. almost every night you find yourself in bed earlier than usual, tapping out all sorts of sordid promises to your ex boyfriend. you tell him you thought about him all day. you tell him your panties were soaked at work from imagining his cock in your mouth. he tells you you’re the nastiest little slut and he can’t believe he ever let you go.

eventually the daily dirty messages aren’t enough. the promises went broken. all that talk was just that… talk. as much of a mistake as it is, you type out a message telling chris to put his dick where his mouth is. it’s a late saturday evening and you may be two glasses of wine down. with your judgment hindered, you send the text. 

chris: knew you’d give in first

chris: i know you too well

that’s the last you hear from chris until he’s knocking at your front door. you’re barely revealed to him before he’s pouncing inside, attaching his body to yours, hands fastening around in your waist in that familiar furious fashion. you melt back into chris’ touch, each one of your senses set alight by memories of your intimacy burning fresh in your mind. 

in response, you kick the door closed with your foot and connect your arms around his neck, immediately leaning up to meet his mouth in a heady mash of lips, tongue and teeth. it’s everything you remember and more; firm, guiding but frenzied, driven by an insane lust that only you seemed to bring out in him. 

it doesn’t take long for his hands to roam, curious to feel every inch of skin that might’ve forgotten him. his hands dip to your ass, squeezing your flesh roughly before gliding back up and delving inside your t-shirt. his wandering fingers pause at the feeling of your bare breasts.

he smirks against your lips, pulling away just enough to talk. “what’s this?” he asks coyly, taking the entirety of your tits into his hands and kneading them slowly, “stripping for me before i even got here?” 

you could hardly deny it. not with the feeling of coarse skin colliding with your sensitive nipples tugging small, lewd moans from your mouth. neglecting to answer, you bury your head in the crook of his neck hoping a meek nod will suffice as an answer. 

it does not. made obvious by his playful chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. you’re expecting games, teasing. you’re not expecting him to suddenly tug your legs around his waist, hoisting you into the air and carrying you through the apartment to your bedroom — an old path that’s still fresh in his mind. 

you’re certain chris has something on his mind, so you wait, eager to please. he places your two feet on the floor once again, taking his seat at the edge of the bed and bringing you in between his thighs. “so,” he says, lifting your shirt slightly and peppering small kisses across your bare stomach, “you started stripping,” he says, fingers toying with the thin fabric of your pyjama shirt, “finish up for me, babygirl. wanna see you.” 

you meet his gaze for a few moments, and it reminds you of what you’re doing. who you’re doing it with. so, you do the adult thing and tug the shirt over your head off, breaking the eye contact and giving chris somewhere else to look. thankfully, the moment your breasts are exposed to him he’s busy, dragging his lips upwards in a hurry to cover your chest in kisses, bites and flicks of his tongue. 

just when you let your eyes flutter shut and your head roll back in pleasure, chris halts suddenly. you assume sense has overcome him but when you open your eyes to survey him… you see his gaze frozen, pointed on a particular spot on your chest. 

“chris—“ 

you try to query but he quickly cuts you off. “what’s this?” he asks, his fingers grazing over the expanse of skin in question. 

ah. you remember now. a souvenir left behind by another shitty fuck you had recently. a fuck you purposely sought out to alleviate the want—need for chris. well, the guy was as lacklustre as you expected… in fact he had some serious gall to sign his work with a hickey. now, he had also had the audacity to try and ruin another fuck. not on your watch. 

pressing your thigh to chris’ groin, you let your head fall shamefully. “wanted someone to make me feel good…” you admit, your voice meek. 

chris holds your waist firmly with one hand while his other hand snakes round to your backside. “wanted someone to make you feel good?” he repeats, dragging your pyjama bottoms down and down, underwear in tow. 

“yeah,” you tell him, holding his head in your hands, pressing your chest to his face, “just wanted somebody to fuck me so i could close my eyes and think about you.” your honestly surprises even yourself. 

“is that so?” chris murmurs, pushing a curt laugh out through his nostrils, “was he convincing?” you feel his hands hover steadily over your exposed ass. 

you shake your head, “no… nobody fucks like you,” you tell him. and you probably mean it. leaning down, you start pressing kisses into chris’ unruly curls, breathing in the familiar scent of his tea tree shampoo — it sends your mind careening into memories of your fingers in his hair, of his head on your pillow. 

“mm, and you still let him leave a mark, yeah?” chris asks, his voice is stern but he can’t stop himself from pressing his head further into your touch. 

“i’m sorry,” you breathe the words into his forehead, rocking your thigh against his tightly packed cock.

clearly, he’s unconvinced as he raises a hand only to bring it down harshly on your bare ass. the sting rings loud in your ears, the piercing hot pain sending sears of pleasure straight to your pussy. you could never deny that chris knows how to hurt good. he does it again, striking your ass cheek with his open palm, relishing the way you tense in anticipation. 

“tell me, babygirl,” he murmurs, biting over the purple mark your previous lay had left behind, “how many guys since me?” he sucks your skin whilst waiting for an answer, painting over the sickening stain with his own teeth and tongue.

it’s a small number, but still one you’re ashamed to admit. “three,” you tell him truthfully. three guys, each one worst than the last, or perhaps that was just the illusion chris drew up for you after you resorted to texting him after each failed one night stand; begging for him to virtually finish the job they couldn’t do with you laid out bare before them. “three guys. no more.” you say to reaffirm. 

when he’s finished marring your chest, he looks up to you, boyish grin plastered on his beautiful face, tongue poking through his teeth, “wow, three guys and none of them could fuck you like i can.” he’s so smug, and with every reason to be. “still,” he continues, fingers dancing over your reddened backside, “three is three too many.” 

to your dismay, chris pushes you away, holding you firmly at arms length. he shimmies back on the bed until the back of his knees hit the mattress. “over my knee.” he commands, taking hold of your hand and guiding your body across him. you follow suit, of course, shimmying out of your final constraints of pyjama shorts and underwear, revealing yourself fully to him before laying sideways atop his lap, ass perched upwards. “you gonna count for me, babygirl?“ he asks with a coo. 

his free hand finds your face, holding your jaw, keeping your head place. your response is a nod held within his gentle grip. 

his hand slowly retracts upwards, slamming back down against the curve where your ass meets your thigh; the sharp pain rolls out in dull waves throughout your lower body. you gasp, whimper and moan all at once. “one,” you breathe out, taking a deep breath and preparing for another smack. 

the next one is harder, louder. it leaves tears stinging the corner of your eyes. chris’ fingers playfully skim over the fresh red marks that adorn your ass, he admires his work whilst waiting for you to count. 

“t-two.” you mewl as chris’ hand squeezes your face tighter in his grip. 

weeks and weeks of teasing texts and you still hadn’t had the sweet satisfaction of his hands or cock inside you; truly, you were starting to go mad, the fresh addition of pain only highlighting how neglected your cunt is feeling. all you can do is squeeze your thighs together and hope chris is merciful with you. 

another slap lands on your ass, the hardest one yet. you cry out something caught between a moan and a sob, your back arching from the intensity. “three,” you hiss, sucking air in through your clenched teeth. the slaps are quick, fleeting but the pain throbs in blunt waves throughout your entire body. 

“good girl.” chris simpers at you, massaging your cheek with his thumb, “three. one for every guy you’ve had up here.” 

you smile at the praise, leaning your head into his gentle touch. he almost makes you forget the circumstances which brought you both here; it’s unspoken but it hangs in the air, heavy, like the sky before the rain. 

“i hate thinking about other guys with their hands on you,” chris says, breaking the lengthy silence that hung between you whilst his fingers soothed the pained skin of your backside.

“forget them,” you whisper, suddenly sitting upwards and straddling chris, “make me forget them.” you grind your bare pussy against him, the damp spot you leave behind doesn’t go unnoticed. 

you hear something akin to a growl stick in chris’ throat and next thing you know he’s taking a rough grip of your arms and shoving you back-first onto the bed. he stands up and rods himself of all his clothes, making quick work of it whilst you lay there, staring holes into the ceiling, wondering when the regret will sink in—wondering if it already has. 

luckily, chris’ body soon collides with your own again, knocking the guilt clean out of you, for now. you breathe him in, deeply, holding onto his scent like he might disappear; and you’re certain that, after this late night session, he will. wrapping your arms around his body, you bring your chests together, both of your ragged breaths falling in a shaky rhythm. 

chris kisses you, his lips relentless, tongue darting into your mouth, desperate to taste you again. you submit entirely to the will of his mouth, letting him ravish you while your hands roam across his broad chest, simply taking in the sensation of his hot skin under your fingers. 

“chris. please.” you whimper, breaking the kiss, “need you inside.” you rut against him, hoping to get your point across. 

“mm, really?” chris asks, a coy twang to his voice, “why don’t you just bring some other guy up here and have him fuck you?” he sits upwards now, letting his cock rest on top of your pussy and looking down at you with raised eyebrows. 

“because,” you whine, throwing your head backwards into the mattress, hoping a simple ‘because’ will suffice but also knowing it won’t.

as expected, chris merely tilts his head to the side, feigning confusion. “because? use your words, babygirl.” 

you whine in defiance but relent anyway, “nobody’s like you.” and saying it out loud felt like solidifying the statement, carved into stone. nobody’s like chris. 

you might’ve dwelled on it, but chris is smarter than to let you; he pushes his cock inside your aching cunt, making you his all over again — as if you ever were not. the feeling fills you and empties you all at once, a lust laden guilt spreading through your very veins, erupting from your mouth in the most depraved of shrieks. chris winces as you clamp around his cock, sucking the air in through his teeth and stilling himself inside you, letting you both adjust to the sensations. 

“can’t believe you let other guys touch you here,” chris growls, his thumb rubbing tantalising circles around your clit, his eyes meet yours suddenly, his gaze accusing, “did you let them finish inside?” 

you shake your head, “no!” and chris smiles. smiles and retracts his hips from you before slamming back into your heat, throwing his head back as your pussy clamps around him. 

he lets his chest fall against yours, propping himself up with one hand and gripping your waist with the other. “only want. my cum in you.” he says through gritted teeth, thrusting in you with pained restraint, teasing the moans from your throat rather than fucking them straight out of you. 

your sloppy attempts to match the rhythm of his hips is met with a cooing giggle, so cute, he breathes, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. instead of slackening his pace for you, chris only ups the intensity of his bucking hips, stuffing you with his cock over and over and over again until your eyes roll back in your head. 

“want— want chris. cum inside.” you cry out, your ability to form coherent sentences slipping from you the more chris relentlessly fucks you into the bed below. 

chris barely responds, throwing a low moan of approval your way, his own mind awash with the thought of his cum —and only his cum— filling every inch of your pussy. he grins at the thought, peering down at your pleasure-stricken face, watching in fascination as the waves of euphoria sweep over your features. he suddenly pauses his movements, only for a second, before throwing his hips back into you, watching the very shriek that he coaxes out of your mouth.  

“every time you fuck someone else, want you to be only thinking about me.” 

and you nod, you nod your head furiously, yes, yes, yes. he could ask anything of you right now and you’d give him it. you’d pull the stars from the sky if he asked. you wrap your legs around him, handing control of your body over to him and his ruthless rutting, letting him ride you into your sweet release. 

eventually, you collide, your orgasms ripping through your bodies; chris fucks faster and faster, filling you with his cum, spurred on by the string of curses and shrieks you let out as the pleasure surges through every vein in your body. 

after riding out the final waves of his orgasm, chris collapses atop you, breaths ragged and hot against your ear. there’s an uncomfortable stillness suddenly hanging in air, replacing the thick lust that had, until now, clouded your actions. with the desire tinged fog now cleared, you see the situation for what it is and the euphoric high is quickly replaced by devastating shame. 

you wince as chris pulls out of you, more shame dripping from you, staining your thighs, your bed, your very mind. the weight of his body leaves you, exposing your naked, marked body to the empty room; you tug the sheets over your form, shivering at the sudden loss of warmth paired with the dizziness of coming down from such an orgasmic high. chris doesn’t look at you as he tugs his clothes back on, you don’t look at him either.

“text me if you need me again.” 

and you’re certain you will. 

[lixtokki]

I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DROPPED THE BEST CHAN SMUT THEN DISAPPEARED. Kidding! Hope you’re okay 💕

>:3

and i’ll have another dropping very soon…

(i’m fine hehe tumblr shadowbanned my account for two weeks and they fixed it maybe? two days ago?)

[lixtokki]

TUMBLR FINALLY FIXED MY ACCOUNT HELLO IM BACK AND READY TO POST FIC AGAIN ;;;;;

[lixtokki]

to the people who have sent requests… i’ll be writing again once tumblr fixes my account :(( i’ve been shadowbanned for ?? nrly two weeks now and waiting on a response from support for *checks time* 7 DAYS… heh why me … anyw your patience is appreciated

i’m not v active in general atm b/c i’m so saaaad abt my blog being shadowbanned lol it’s such a bummer <\3

[christallise]

creatures of curiosity

the prince of the sea ; hyunjin

word count: 5.2k

warnings: angst, fluff, fantasy au, themes of horror (no gore, just general feeling of unease), lowkey stockholm syndrome, hyunjin is very full on, implied sex, maybe don’t read if you have thalassophobia

a/n: this ended up much longer than i anticipated but it’s finally done!!! i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ;___;

taglist: @screaming-wea-sel @drrramaaaqweeen @simjaeyunspinkytoe @frozenpeasworld @lovhyunj @lcvryu @yoyeolears @lix-ables @koovvie @hwnghyvnjn @lixtokki

The red sails above tremble under the whistling wind, a stark contrast to the gloomy grey skies. Undecided rain threatens to fall at any moment as the ship creaks and groans in distaste for the salty waters it safeguards you from. Truthfully, you had only agreed to venture on this expedition under the guise that it would be short and three weeks into it, you’re no closer to your destination. The captain had made sure that you were accommodated of course, you have your own private quarters adorned with silken sheets and gorgeous shining silverware; so not all is bad. Still, you’re what the locals dub “a landwalker” and for good reason; you would much prefer solid ground to the volatile waters.

Now the heavens pour open, a bad omen, rain begins to lash against your skin like tiny knives and you’re painfully aware of the entire crew's eyes boring into your skull. You’d heard them protest as you boarded, some even spat at the ground as you passed but you held your head high and made your way to the captain, maps in hand and ready to assist whenever needed. 

“Bad luck to have a woman on board,” it’s the first time a crew member dared speak to you, or rather, about you in this case. You raise an eyebrow as he stares, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “‘Specially in these waters.” 

“And why is that?” you quiz, mimicking his stance, “Blatant sexism or just plain stupidity?” 

Your remark earns some jeers from onlooking crewmen, one even pats you on the back. The first man shakes his head with a grimace. 

“Come on lass, you’re telling me you haven’t heard the tales?” 

Of course you are aware of the stories, you remember your Father reading you fables of the Prince of the Sea, an eternally woeful being whose spilled tears crafted the very ocean you sail upon. It’s said that he mourns the death of his beloved and is in search of anew. That his elegy of sorrow enchants whomever’s ears it happens to fall upon, luring them to their untimely demise. As a child you felt sorry for the Prince, losing his betrothed and while mourning being pestered by unwanted ships in his realm. Now as an adult, you see the tales for exactly what they are, propaganda to prevent women from sailing the seas

“You need not concern me with your stories,” you reply with a scoff, “Especially not old wives tales crafted to fuel your sexist agenda.”

“Made up stories, eh?” he says through gritted teeth, “Ships go missin’ with women on ‘em far too much to be coincidence.”

“Then I suggest you keep your eyes open for trouble instead of wasting my time.”

You’re thankful when he retreats, mumbling what you can only imagine to be curses under his breath. It need not concern you, all that matters to you at this moment is tracking your whereabouts and leading the crew to their destination. Rain continues to fall, your hair begins to drip at the ends as you wipe the drops from your compass. The dial spins for a moment before comfortably setting on the east.

It’s unusually welcoming when night falls, the crew’s boisterous clamouring quietens and the final shanty has been sung. The deluge had finally subsided too, replaced by a vista of stars; you divine them, tracing the shapes of latent constellations. The ship sways with the tide, rocking the crew to a gentle sleep and leaving you almost completely alone, save for a few nocturnal sailors who chug rum like it’s water. They’d fall into an alcohol induced slumber soon enough. You watch the waves as they languidly ebb and flow against the hull and suddenly you’re homesick; longing to see your friends and family again. It has been longer than anticipated and will be longer still; you begin to wonder if they’re worried. The thoughts consume you and for a brief lapse in judgement, you consider joining the drunken sea dogs who are+ now passed out on deck. You shake your head and chuckle at their misfortune, unbeknownst to your own.

Fog begins to rapidly roll in seemingly from nowhere and at once your vision deteriorates. Through the thick clouds, you call out to someone — anyone, yet no one heeds your call. Instead, a haunting melody echoes around you, an otherworldly eerie requiem of sorrow that lurches your heart. You can’t control your sobbing, the tears flood from your eyes like waterfalls and your gut wrenches as the song grows closer and louder. Now, you can see the crew — some crashing into each other, some gasping for air, some crying uncontrollably and some screaming. They wail, they beg for the reaper to take them. And still you’re crying, weeping as you navigate through the mist to find the Captain. It’s futile, the density of the fog proving to be too much. Below you, the ship screams in agony; wood snapping and metal clanging and you feel the hull you peacefully watched not long ago be torn apart. There’s nothing you can do; you are at the mercy of the sea now and you simply pray. Pray that somehow you might survive and return to your family and friends unscatched.

The darkness steals that dream.

*************

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been out. A minute? A day? Time eludes you. You blink your eyes, squinting to adjust to your new surroundings and you’re taken aback. The room is extravagant, home to a four poster bed that almost takes up the entire space. On the walls are antiquated paintings, fitted with threads of golden embellishments that glint and sparkle. Below them, lies an immaculately tidy, pure white vanity table — adorned with opulent gems and jewels and a full oval mirror. Wherever you were, the host did not spare the details of your accommodation. 

You decide to investigate, rummaging through drawers and cabinets to find some clue to your whereabouts. As you approach the door to the room, the faint smell of dew tickles your nose and it reminds you that your clothes are damp. Or, they’re supposed to be. When you look down, you’re surprised to find your attire to be drastically different; a long, pearl nightdress drapes over your figure. Now you’re panic stricken, knowing someone had changed your clothing coupled with the ignorance of your whereabouts proving too much for you. 

Right as you’re about to beseech for aid, you hear it; the same chilling verses from the ship, echoing throughout the halls of wherever you are. Curiosity gets the better of you, your fingers twist the golden doorknob and you venture outside the confines of the room; warily following the music to its source. Through winding corridors and narrow passages until finally you find it. 

In the centre of the room sits a grand piano but your eyes merely gloss over it. Instead, they focus on the massive window that touches both the ceiling and the floors; however, it’s the view that truly catches your attention. Through the glass lies a forest inundated by the sea, the sunlight above struggles to penetrate through the dense grouping of kelp trapped in the muted expanse. It’s astonishing, it’s magical and it confirms your location in an instant. Your eyes slowly return to the piano and you finally see the fabled Prince of the Sea, fingers ghosting over the keys in his haunting composition.

Your first reaction is to panic, your eyes dart around the room in search of somewhere to run, somewhere to hide as your face turns a chalky white, drained of all life. Your eyes blur as tears begin to gush from them and fear tugs at your soul. You’re too young to die, there’s so much you haven’t done. The faces of your friends, of your family flash in spectacular colours in your mind as your legs give way beneath you and you fall to your knees in anguish. 

“Please, do not be afraid.” A voice, so soft and gentle it rips you from the maddened terror momentarily. Of course, it could only belong to him; such a melodic tone from such a frightening being; it doesn’t make sense in your head. “You’re safe.” “Safe?” You repeat, wiping the tears from your eyes and finally meeting his gaze; glacial blue eyes that peer into the darkest reaches of your soul yet the warmest smile you’d ever laid eyes upon. His golden hair is flattened against his cheeks, wet as though fresh from the rain. “You’re not going to hurt me?” “Hurt you?” His brow furrows and he genuinely sounds offended, enough so to manifest some guilt within yourself. “You have given me no reason to.” The guilt dissipates and fear creeps back up your throat. “Ah,” is all you can choke out, afraid that you may just give him a reason. Still, he is ever smiling and even offers a hand to help you up from the ground. Warily, you accept the gesture.

“Hyunjin,” he says as he helps you up, “And you are?” “Y/n,” you reply, dusting off your knees. “But you’re not just Hyunjin, are you?” To this, Hyunjin chuckles darkly; striding back over to the great piano and perching himself neatly on the seat. When you don’t move, he beckons you by patting the empty space next to him. Again, you are cautious yet you move swiftly to avoid conflict. “Only those who know me call me by my name,” he says, beginning to coax yet another melody from the instrument, “Others know me as—”

“Prince of the Sea,” you finish his sentence, eyes never wavering from the piano keys. “My Father used to tell tales of you when I was young.” “And you’re not afraid?” Hyunjin asks with faux curiosity, “How very brave. Or terribly foolish.”

You dare not answer, opting instead to listen to the music that Hyunjin plays so eloquently. For a moment, you both bask in the sombre song; sharing an odd kinship. Hyunjin plays from his soul, the chords reaching deep down into his core and manifesting in an elegy of desperation; of sweet sadness. It feels strangely humbling to hear.

“You are a good listener,” he says when your eyes gently close and you begin humming to the melody, “A trait to be desired.” 

Perhaps he’s correct. Or perhaps civility is a mask for fear.

********

Time seems to stand still in the palace; since sunlight cannot breach the murky waters, you aren’t sure how many days it’s been since you first arrived in Hyunjin’s domain. For the few hours after your first meeting, you wandered the empty corridors through twists and turns, leaving no stone unturned in this abyssal abode. One particular dark room, stowed deep in the sub reaches intrigued you so, however a lock kept it safe from prying eyes. In the meantime, Hyunjin has been perfectly pleasant towards you, making sure you are eating and drinking well and presenting you with many gifts — knick knacks of sorts, clothing and jewels that even a Queen would envy. You’re acutely aware, of course, just why he’s being so kind to you — the stories say as much. You have no intention of staying, your primary goal is to free yourself from his shackles and get back to your friends and family.

It’s one particular day (or at least you think it’s day) where Hyunjin requests you wear a very specific dress; one of scarlet velvet and trimmed with obsidian lace. Of course, you comply — fear holds its grip on you tightly and you worry that failure to do so would result in your early expiration. You meet him in an ample room with similar floor to ceiling windows as the great hall, only this room is littered with various sheets, splattered with a rainbow of colours and containers filled to the brim with glossy paint. In the centre of the room, Hyunjin sits patiently across from a black chaise; a worn apron protecting his attire.

“Wow,” he says, head leaning on a hand as he watches you approach, “You look absolutely beautiful.”

It takes you aback and you’re unsure how to respond; losing your composure for just a moment, your cheeks burning almost as bright as your gown. “Thanks,” you say simply with a small bow just in case before setting yourself atop the cushions. “You’re an artist?” 

Hyunjin hums an affirmation, busying himself with architecting his easel and perching a pure white canvas atop it, nodding at a small collection of brushes at his side. “You could say that.”

“And your subject?” You ask warily.

“Sits before me,” he smiles, studying you with the eye of a true virtuoso. “Relax, Y/n. It takes time, you don’t want to be uncomfortable, do you?”

No, you do not.

So you sit there, still and quiet while Hyunjin’s keen eye captures your essence; his brushstrokes are as graceful and delicate as he is — they bewitch you into a trance. Your eyes gently close and you slip slowly into slumber only to be awoken by a gentle glissando. When your eyes flutter open and are met with a hydrous lyre floating gingerly in the air next to Hyunjin, you gasp.

“My apologies,” he says, eyes sternly focusing on the painting, “I did not mean to wake you, only to amuse myself with some music.”

“No, it's alright,” you reply, now very aware of the silence between you. There’s part of you that wants to get to know him, to know this mythical being that stories were passed down from generation to generation. Someone of that calibre must have lived a riveting life. Though to ask such questions out of the blue would be morbidly rude. “You’re a very capable man,” you hope to ignite some conversation, “A painter, a conjurer, a songster and a musician.” 

“And yet, my social skills are severely lacking.” 

You laugh, truly, and it shocks you. “A comedian too?”

Hyunjin joins you in laughter, chuckling as he continues darting his eyes between you and the canvas. “Truthfully though, I simply have a lot of time on my hands to learn new crafts,” he says once the laughter quietens, “Art, music, languages, literature; trivial pastimes to distract the mind.”

“How profound.”

“So it is true that if you brand yourself an artist people will naturally attach more meaning to the things you say.”

You shake your head as he jests, “Your words do have meaning, the stories and songs tell of your loneliness.”

To this, Hyunjin gives a poignant smile. 

“I’ve learned every instrument, read every book in my library and speak every language that piques my interest and still, there is a vast emptiness inside me.”

Intense, but you’re glad to finally be addressing the elephant in the room. A sense of sadness falls about Hyunjin, one you hadn’t seen since arriving. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

“I understand,” you begin, edging to the end of the chair and clasping your hands neatly in your lap, “Loneliness can be all consuming, especially when it’s born from losing a loved one.”

Hyunjin regards your comment with yet another pitiful smile. “True indeed, sometimes it feels as though my memories are more alive than I.”

The open honesty tugs at the strings of your heart; your compassion is immense and you have the impulse to lunge forward and cradle him in your arms. Hearing stories of his loss, details lost in transference, is one thing; to look him in the eye as his heart pours open for you is another. You’re at a loss for words, solemnly watching as Hyunjin continues his painting.

“Forgive me, I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No, not at all.” He can tell you’re lying.

The conversation comes to a natural stop as you assume the original position for the portrait. Hyunjin quietly hums along to the music as he works, occasionally flipping his blonde locks from his eyes. Briefly, you forget the circumstances of your arrangement; right now you are simply two beings sharing an unspoken moment. 

“Are you excited to see the finished work?” He asks, eyeing you over the canvas, “It’s almost finished.” “Yes, of course,” you reply, “Although, I’m not entirely sure if I have the look for it.” This stops him dead in his tracks, his head lops to the side and he eyes you curiously. “What do you mean?” “Just that paintings are for the rich and the beautiful,” you say and Hyunjin scoffs.

“My dear, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

You blink, unsure of what to say. 

“Come, see for yourself how others see you.” And so you do, moving swiftly behind Hyunjin and peering over his shoulder to admire his work. Before you, there is someone who resembles you, yet the features you are most self conscious about seem to harmonise. It’s mind boggling and you look down to Hyunjin in disbelief. 

“This…doesn’t feel like me.” “Because your perception is warped. You see only what is reflected in glass or water.”

Now, Hyunjin turns to face you and you’re eminently aware of just how close the two of you are. It’s the first time that you’ve been so intimate with him and you curse your heart for pounding so much in your chest. 

“You do not see yourself mid laughter or when you have your nose buried in a book,” he continues; eyes locking with yours as he raises his hand, cupping your cheek gently. “Those moments are where true beauty lies.”

How you are so captivated by your captor bewilders you, yet his words penetrate your soul; every inch of your body feels as though it’s set aflame. When you are ever silent, he laughs and retreats his hand. “Forgive me again if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” “No, not at all.” And you truly meant it this time.

*****************

The next week or so, Hyunjin’s gift giving becomes more frequent; every day you awaken to some form of gift at the edge of your bed, delivered by your own nautical magpie. Never have you been gifted so heavily, you begin to think your thank you’s are losing their meaning. Not only have you been bombarded with gifts, but each time you pass each other by as you explore or as he seats you at the dinner table; there is a veil of passion between you. Neither party acknowledges the faint tinge of desire but both feel it coursing through their veins. You do not yet understand it but you feel drawn to him like a sailor to the open sea. 

Hyunjin had been leaving you alone most of the time, to your surprising dismay; allowing you freedom

to spend time in the multitude of recreational rooms that filled the halls. Your most favourite of all being the library where Hyunjin’s vast collection of tomes rivals even the most learned academics in the city. 

“You can read anything here, provided you speak the language.” Hyunjin had told you with a wink.

“And if I don’t, perhaps you wouldn’t mind teaching me.” You had replied.

And so he did. Huddled around a cramped desk, stacked to the heavens with literature and poems in romantic languages some of which you hadn’t even heard of. When you make a mistake, he laughs hard and it’s so therapeutic to hear. When you’re correct, he beams with pride and gently squeezes your hand. Another fleeting moment passes in which you are simply two people; two strangers becoming acquainted. 

Once dinner time approaches, he leads you to the dining room and seats you directly next to him; this was new to you. Previously you’d been across from him and nothing more — your heart begins to pound in your chest. 

“You know,” you say as you sit, “I’ve never seen a single person other than us here, who is cooking the food?”

Hyunjin chuckles, taking his own seat after tucking yours in, “You only thought to ask this now?” When you nod he shrugs, “I have an imp pet who takes care of it.”

You have no idea if he’s joking or not but the time to question him passes as he begins to eat; encouraging you to do the same. You would love to eat, really, but your heart is lodged in your throat and the feeling only worsens as Hyunjin takes your hand in his. 

“Having you here has been wonderful,” he says, out of the blue and you can’t help but blush, “it’s been a long time since i’ve been this happy.”

“I’m glad I can help,” you reply, truthfully you don’t really know what to say. 

The two of you finish your food, hands tied together the entire time and once your fork is placed neatly beside the plate, Hyunjin pulls you to your feet. 

“Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see.”

Soon enough, you’re met with the familiar view of the closed off room you found the first day you arrived and you look at Hyunjin with curiosity. From his shirt pocket he pulls a tiny key before twisting it into the lock and springing the door open; what you find inside is unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

Glass replaces the concrete walls of the room, it’s like stepping into the open ocean yet breathing air. Sunlight pours in brilliant beams, illuminating the multi coloured coral reef that borders the underwater palace. Marine life is rife here, various schools of fish swirl in perfect synchrony, leaving a glimmering trail in their wake. You gape at Hyunjin before running off to get a better view. 

“This is incredible,” you marvel, hands pressed against the glass, “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is.”

Hyunjin joins you, wrapping a hand around your waist; it catches you off guard and you spin to face him. Now, you can see him so clearly; bathed in the light of the sun, his eyes shine and his flaxen hair frames his features so perfectly. Briefly, you blink absently.

“Y/n,” he speaks low, maintaining eye contact and when you try to avert your gaze, his hand cups your cheek and reels you right back in. There’s a serene silence between you as he brushes the stray hairs from your face, taking in all of you. It’s when his lips press against your own that you lose all inhibitions, letting his tongue explore your mouth as his hands pull you closer by the waist. You cannot escape this primal need to be closer to him, to let your arms sling around his neck and allow yourself to be held; to melt into him. 

One kiss is all it takes for you to tumble into bed with him. Hyunjin takes it slow with you, though you are unsure whether it’s so he can greedily savour every second or to provide you with comfort. Not that it matters when he’s making you feel so good. You lose yourself, submitting fully to him; letting yourself reach highs you never thought existed. When you’re spent, lying flush against him and panting, he cradles you in his arms and smothers the top of your head in tiny kisses. 

“It might come as a shock to you,” Hyunjin muses aloud, eyes looking anywhere but you, “but I think I may have found my missing piece.”

To this, you glance up at him and laugh at the sight of his usually pale face burning beetroot, “What do you mean?”

“It means you complete me and I believe I am in love with you.”

Whoa.

Before you even begin to formulate a reply, Hyunjin butts in.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to reciprocate it just yet,” he says, now looking down at you, “I just wanted you to know.”

You truly are at a loss for words, it feels far too soon for your liking for him to be devoting himself to you yet you are blinded by the rose tinted glasses. Without answering, you nuzzle in the crook of his arm and allow yourself to be coaxed into slumber by Hyunjin absently playing with your hair as you drift into a rest filled with fantastical dreams of what could be.

Reality can never really compare with dreams.

The next morning you return to the glass room and gaze upon the bustling ocean life with childlike wonder, feeling fortunate that you get to view the sea life in a way no other mortal had. You follow the fish, counting every species you see and recognise. It’s not long until Hyunjin finds you and sits neatly on the floor by your side. 

“You seem to like this place a lot.” he observes, leaning back on two hands to get a better view of you. 

“It’s like a different world down here.” You reply, watching with awe as the fish scatter when what looks like a transparent shark passes through the reef. Strange. It’s only upon closer inspection that you realise it’s not a shark but the aquatic outline of a…person?

“Hyunjin,” you grab his attention by pulling on his sleeve and pointing at the figure, “What is that?”

Hyunjin barely gives a glance before answering.

“They are but wisps in the ocean, nothing to concern yourself with.”

You are unconvinced by his answer but dare not pry more. Instead, you lift yourself up and get as close to the glass as you possibly can to get a better view of the ghostly figure. As you approach the glass, a muted chorus of song can be heard as the figure drifts in and out of view.

“Hyunjin.” you say again, only this time much more stern. When a second figure joins the first and loops in the water, it almost crashes into the glass and your eyes widen in horror. “Is that a woman?”

Hyunjin remains ever silent as your eyes follow the ghostly woman as she sings, her song sending familiar chills down your spine. You turn to him, eyes filled with fear. “What…what is this?”

Hyunjin sighs.

“Sirens,” he says simply as though it were obvious. “They’re Sirens.”

Everything begins to fall into place, the jewels and gems gifted to you, the dresses that were so beautiful…

“Y/n,” Hyunjin is standing now, towering over you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Let me explain.”

You gape at him, words slip from your mind as you try to comprehend the gravity of what he has done.

“You did this?” You can’t hide the disbelief, it encompasses you.

Hyunjin hangs his head in shame, too afraid to look you in the eyes.

“Tell me the truth,” you squeak, beginning to back away slowly.

“They ran from me,” he begins through gritted teeth, “As though I was their worst nightmare incarnate. So I…tore their undeserving beauty from them.” 

You cannot believe what you are hearing. “You cursed them?”

He gives a solemn nod. 

“They will live a life of eternal yearning; an unquenchable thirst for lust that no one man can ever satisfy. That is what they deserve.”

“Is this the fate that awaits me?” You ask, a lump forming in your throat, “A siren lost to the tides?”

Hyunjin ponders the thought for a moment too long before shaking his head.  “You were the first not to run. You are the first I’ve truly felt for.”

Although his plea sounds truthful, you cannot bear to look at him. “You could have let them go,” you say in barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you let them go?”

Hyunjin does not answer, for he cannot. 

“I…I would like to leave.”

The silence is deafening. Every minute that passes where Hyunjin does not speak is a minute closer to your demise: you truly fear for your life. 

“Then, you may go.”

What?

You almost break your neck to look at him; his eyes are reddened with tears.

“You…you’re serious?” you ask in disbelief. 

“If you love someone, you let them go. I cannot keep you here against your will.”

You can feel the pain in his voice, like his heart had been ripped from his chest. 

“Then, let me go.”

Briefly, he pauses and you fear that he has reconsidered but the fear is washed away with the tide as he beckons you to follow him. He dares not reach for your hand as he usually would.

The walk to the great hall feels like an eternity, with Hyunjin’s despondency bearing a heavy weight on your soul. Once you arrive, he stands firmly in place and gnaws on his bottom lip. 

“I can take you home,” he finally says, “That is what you want, yes?”

The glimmer of hope that you will change your mind still faintly burns so when you nod your head, it crushes him. With a heaving sigh, he reaches around his neck and fiddles with a necklace of some sort before taking your hand in his own and passing it to you.

“Take this. If you ever change your mind, open it and I will find you.”

“A locket?” You say upon closer inspection, the brassy heart is adorned with threads of gold. “But this is precious to you.”

He bows his head, “Look after my heart, won’t you?”

Then, darkness consumes you.

*********

When you awaken, you find yourself somewhere in the sea on a rickety old ship just as before; except this time you’re bed ridden. You have no idea whose ship you’re on or how long you’ve been there, so you arise and make an attempt to seek out someone to explain your situation. As soon as you stand up, a splitting migraine assaults your mind — it’s piercing and you fall back onto the bed. With a hiss of pain, you throw your head back onto the pillow. 

Had it been a dream? Surely not. 

With haste you reach for the locket Hyunjin had gave you to find it missing. No…it simply couldn’t have been a fever dream — you refuse to believe it.

The sky screams in anguish as rain lashes down on the upper decks and you try to speak to any of the crewmen who are busying themselves with attending to the ship. Not one of them acknowledges you — typical.  It’s by chance that you see one of the men dangling a chain from his hand, boasting to a friend that he’d won it in a card game only the day before. 

“Excuse me, sir,” your attempt at being courteous is pathetic as your patience wanes, “That necklace belongs to me."

“Says who?” He snarls, looking you up and down.

“Says me,” you reply haughtily, snatching the necklace from his grubby hands.

As soon as the brass touches your skin, your body is set aflame; memories of Hyunjin wash over you like a tsunami — his touch, his taste, his smell. You’re flooded with emotion, drowning in the sweet sadness that fills your heart and you mourn the spark in the ocean, doused as it ignites.

“Bloody bad luck to have a woman on board,” the thief sailor spits as you loop the locket around your neck, twirling the golden heart in your fingers.

“Is that so?”

[lixtokki]

does anyone know how long it takes for tumblr to fix your acc once it’s been shadowbanned? ;-; i’m dying

[lixtokki]

still shadowbanned i think….. i messaged tumblr w/ a support ticket like 5 days ago wahhh T_T pls wait for meeee

[sparkystraynger-deactivated2024]

Since i can't write for the life of me, here's a commentary of Chan's pretty nose

Warnings: oral (f receiving), slight cum play, sniffing panties, rated m. Minors dni

He would always rub his nose in the crook of your neck, especially when he's feeling a little clingier than usual. He loves smelling you, loves inhaling your scent. And he definitely loves inhaling the scent of your cunt. Chan would be the kind of boyfriend who would feel excited when he sniffs your dirty panties. He likes it.

When you're not around, he would just pick up your panties from the hamper and just inhale your sweet smell. There's something so addictive about the way your freshly worn panties smell.

And if you ever catch him in the act? That's better. He doesn't have to hide it anymore. He would just make you lay on the bed as he fits himself between your thighs and start sniffing your panty-clad cunt. His perverted mind would love it more if he can play with cum seeping from your flimsy panties.

The way cum would slowly seep through the fabric makes the boy go crazy. Chan would playfully push his nose onto your cunt just to make more cum seep through, so he can lick it up.

And when he's done eating you out - his nose shiny with your cum - he would rub his nose all over your neck and come back down to make his nose shiny with your cum again, and rub it all over your body before he licks it all up.

Chan loves to smell you. And it's one of the rare times he feels like his nose is not a complex of his, because he always makes you scream his name when he puts his nose to good use.

[lixtokki]

does anyone know how long it takes for tumblr to fix your acc once it’s been shadowbanned? ;-; i’m dying

[lixtokki]

btw i’m shadowbanned rn… for whatever reason? idk. i’m trying to sort it out but i don’t wanna post anything until it’s fixed T^T sowwy in the meantime

[lixtokki]

27, 39, 83? <3

27. do you have any pets?

i DO.. i have a cat called link <3

39. have you met any friends online?

p much all my friends are from online ngl.. i’ve been around a long time HAHA

83. ideal girlfriend/boyfriend?

idk i’m not into relationships tbh ;o; let’s just say felix!!!

[lixtokki]

6 and 73!!! (like i don’t know the answer to everything there LOL)

did you honestly just ask me my eye colour when IM SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO YOU

[closedafterdark]

ask away

[christallise]

concept: edging changbin, to the point his mind is broken and all he can do is babble incoherently while you take your time. slowly pumping his cock up and down, watching with twisted delight how his hips sporadically rut upwards to meet your hand as he whimpers, begging for the sweet release that you refuse to give him. “a little longer sweet boy, can you do that?” you say with a tinge of pride and when he hesitantly nods, you chuckle darkly. “that’s a good boy, look at you all messy for me.” and he’d hiss and moan — mind so clouded with the need to cum that he loses all inhibitions, all dignity, all shame. “please,” he implores, head thrown back and forehead drenched in sweat, “can’t hold it much longer.” as much as you want to watch him writhe under your touch, you can tell he’s at his limit. in an act of kindness, you quicken your pace; allowing your hand to swiftly glide along the length of his leaking dick. “let go, baby,” you say, leaning in to place a smattering of kisses over his neck, “cum for me.” and he does. he unravels, his body jerking spasmodically as he empties himself into your hand. “was that too much, baby?” you ask, stroking his hair with your free hand as he slumps into your arms. when he shakes his head, you giggle; placing a kiss on his forehead. “such a good boy.”