just a short, short sechen drabble i wrote for the lovely @kimjongwaae
it’s probably a problem of distance.
jongdae is too distant. sehun is used to have his members always close, to feel their presence under his fingertips. if he leans over just a little more he can feel their warmth and it takes another heartbeat for them to be in his hands. it's a matter of identity, of possession.
sehun collects moments, he collects touches, he collects people, uncoiling them in his mind when he feels too lonely at night, when the silence in his head screams and the only thing that can scream louder is the warm heartbeat of someone else thrumming under his palms. sehun lives with his hands splayed on junmyeon's collarbones, caressing chanyeol's arms, slumped on kyungsoo's shoulder, fingers resting on jongin's knee or carded in baekhyun's hair, light feather touches at minseok's side and the relief of his head resting on yixing's shoulder. but jongdae is so far away.
for sehun, owning jongdae is not a matter of touch as much as it is a matter of sound. sehun is lonely but he hides it well, he tucks his secrets in the hollow between his fingers and annihilates them with the warmth of someone else's skin, but jongdae is not made of skin and blood. he is made of laughter and scream, he is made of angels singing, of resolution and honesty. sehun doesn’t need to touch him, not when he’s trapped in the sound of his voice, in the little sighs, in the crumpled words, in broken notes jongdae forgets everywhere, a trail of crumbs for sehun to follow when he’s lost.
jongdae avoids sehun's touch, or maybe sehun is the one who's avoiding jongdae. maybe sehun is a little bit scared, maybe sehun is a little bit in love with him. maybe he's afraid that jongdae will find the loneliness sehun hides inside his sleeve and in the hollow of his throat, together with the words he will never have the courage to say. sehun collects people, everyone but jongdae, but maybe he wants someone to collect him too. until one day, unexpectedly, jongdae takes his hand and steals him away.
(jongdae just waits for the right moment. he’s never been that much of a collector, but there’s no one better than him at pretty things and pretty boys.)
still that au where baekhyun is an astronomy teacher who’s having a baby and apparently a lot of sex | baekyeol | 1752w| nc17 | still for @uoyvulihgfedcba| 12/30
The room is hot, everything is too hot. Baekhyun’s skin, the sheets, the cotton shirt clinging stubbornly to his swollen belly. Even the sweat rolling down his temples in tiny crystal beads burns.
It starts suddenly and unexpectedly, like an incident, a loose wire exploding in his gut, short-circuiting the core of his whole body. Baekhyun feels electricity cracking, traveling through tissue, bone and blood, setting his whole body in fire while he’s trapped inside it, unable to run away, unable to touch himself to relieve it. His cock twitches, demanding attention, but Baekhyun is too heavy and he can't move like this, he can't get himself off... he can't fucking reach down and finger himself and he doesn't want to call Chanyeol. <i>He doesn’t.</i>
So he clenches his eyes shut and breathes, hard, through his nose. He palms his nipples instead – there, at least, he can still reach. Sneaking a hand under his shirt, he circles them with his fingers and pinches until even the light cotton of his shirt feels too rough against them. He moans in response to his own touch, feeling his leg thrash on the bed and his insides clench in a mute request for some relief.
“You could have called.”
Chanyeol’s voice is soft, a little amused, the rough edges of his words smoothened by fondness. The bed dips under his weight and Baekhyun slides down the sheet, just a little, falling against his husband.
“You were watching the match,” he answers, between pants, surprised by the apparent calmness of his own voice. Chanyeol’s answer is a finger caressing Baekhyun’s nipple from above the fabric, twisting it lightly while his other hand pins Baekhyun down as he thrashes again, more violently than before. It’s all he can do not to scream.
“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” says Chanyeol. He does. He holds Baekhyun as he falls back against the mattress when the surge of pleasure dies down, leaving behind a dull, hollow buzz, white noise in Baekhyun’s head.
“The match was important,” continues Chanyeol, “but I should have been dead not to notice the way you were squirming on the couch, unconsciously spreading your legs, leaning against me.”
He touches Baekhyun as he talks, his forearms, his neck, his chest. Every brush of his fingers about Baekhyun’s skin, naked or covered, is a jolt, a little star of power. Chanyeol draws constellations over Baekhyun’s body, and every touch leaves an invisible mark, an electric fingerprint that makes Baekhyun’s skin tingle and sing in pleasure and pain at the same time. “Were you too proud to ask for my cock? Or maybe too shy?”
Baekhyun wants to retort that he’s never been shy, but Chanyeol’s hand sneaks under the hem of the shirt to lay on Baekhyun’s swollen tummy and this time Baekhyun has to cover his mouth with both hands to choke the moan begging for release in his throat.
“Chanyeol,” he whispers, overwhelmed, barely able to talk, “too much.”
“The doctor said you would have been oversensitive.”
He takes his hand away but Baekhyun whines. He doesn’t know what hurts more, if Chanyeol’s touch or the absence of it.
“What do you want me to use? My hands? My mouth?”
“I want you to use your dick,” growls Baekhyun, but Chanyeol just laughs and pats his thigh.
“Not today. You’re too sensitive, I don’t want to hurt you.”
He helps Baekhyun out of his clothes, slowly, and even though Chanyeol’s hands on him are a constant distraction, the fresh air does help Baekhyun to clear his mind.
“Lay down, come on.”
Chanyeol’s voice is like a balm for Baekhyun’s pain. It slides down his body like warm honey, filling the gaps between them and gluing them together, smoothing the coarseness of Chanyeol’s jeans and sweater against Baekhyun’s naked body. Baekhyun wiggles against them, moaning when Chanyeol touches his belly again, with a fondness that trespasses on reverence. He spreads Baekhyun’s legs, slowly and carefully, kneeling between them.
“Tell me when it becomes too much,” he says, but Baekhyun sends him a desperate, longing glance.
“What’s that? Do you want a kiss?”
“Do I have to ask to get one?”
Chanyeol shakes his head and stretches, carefully of Baekhyun’s tummy between them, kissing Baekhyun’s nose and smirking when Baekhyun’s open flutter open, filled with fury.
“Why do you have to be a fucking tease? Am I not being pitiful enough?”
“You’re really cute.”
“Chan-”
Chanyeol kisses his mouth open and Baekhyun feels something warm and wet explode inside him when their tongues meet. It’s sloppy and too wet, even loud, but it’s everything Baekhyun needs for his body to go haywire with pleasure. It’s like Chanyeol is pulling down all the wrong levers, sending Baekhyun’s system into overdrive. Or maybe they’re the right ones, Baekhyun can’t really tell the difference right now.
“Are you happy now?” asks Chanyeol, when he finally lets him go.
“I’m dying.”
“I know baby, try to be strong, ok? I’ll make you feel really good in a few moments.”
After a last peck to Baekhyun’s lips, Chanyeol travels south. He marks Baekhyun’s neck, his jugular, his collarbones, the sides of his torso. He flicks his left nipple, the bastard, because he knows that makes Baekhyun go crazy even on normal days, let alone now that hormones are making him almost crazy with desire. Chanyeol flicks his left nipple and Baekhyun writhes against the bed, unable to stop himself, shaking so hard Chanyeol has to hold him down as he licks and slightly sucks on the other one. When he bites it, Baekhyun bites his own lips too, tasting blood and salty sweat at the tip of his tongue, and madness at the back of his throat.
“I can’t do this Chanyeol, I’m going to die. I’m going to die of unexpressed pleasure and you, oh… Oh…”
.
Chanyeol doesn’t stop until Baekhyun loses his words.
It’s not the first time they do this. It’s not the first time Chanyeol has to extinguish the fire running through Baekhyun’s veins all by himself, and he knows it’ll be difficult. The first times they’ve tried it, it couldn’t work. No matter how many times Chanyeol tried, no matter what he tried, Baekhyun couldn’t come. Chanyeol masturbated him until the friction hurt, sucked him until Baekhyun was so wet and hot he couldn’t think, fingered him until he bled tears of frustration, but couldn’t get him to come. It’s the worst feeling, to be trapped in someone’s own skin, lost in a limbo of pleasure, pain and frustration, unable to go over the edge or cool down for hours. It’s the worst feeling, and Chanyeol dies a little inside every time he thinks about Baekhyun being tortured like that.
That’s why, little by little, Chanyeol has learnt the new contours of Baekhyun’s body, its new limits. He knows that, in order to get Baekhyun off, he must bring him to the edge and keep him there as long as it is necessary, with his mouth and with his fingers. He knows that foreplay isn’t over until Baekhyun is begging and crying, incoherent and ragged and beautiful.
Only then, when Baekhyun’s threats become mumbled whines, Chanyeol lets him go. He gives the left nipple a last lick, enjoys Baekhyun’s full body shudder, and before Baekhyun’s body can clench again, sticks a finger inside him. It’s an easy fit, even without lube. Baekhyun’s walls are wet, burning hot and closing like a clasp around his finger as soon as he realizes the intrusion. His breath catches and his body goes tense, pulled taut like a snap. Chanyeol winces and waits for him to relax before he extracts his forefinger and pours lube liberally all over his hand and Baekhyun’s hole.
It’s amazing how much Baekhyun has changed now that he’s carrying a baby. He used to like the friction, the rough burn of Chanyeol’s dick stretching him open, the bluntness of his fingers breaching his wall without lube, without help. He liked to take whatever Chanyeol had to offer and he loved to ask for more. Now, he’s so sensitive and soft, so sweet and loose around Chanyeol, shivering at the smallest touch, constantly feeling like it’s too much. The new key to break Baekhyun’s body is wet and slow, extending the pleasure until it becomes a curse, a maddening poison that eats Baekhyun out from the inside.
Chanyeol scissors his husband open with one, two fingers, hesitates on the third because he’s not sure this new Baekhyun, this pregnant Baekhyun, this lovely mess of a boy, his chest blushing pleasantly all over as if it can’t keep his sensations inside his heart, can take it. In the end, he works it inside slowly, smiling at the way Baekhyun’s breath catches when he feels the cold gold of Chanyeol’s wedding band against the silky skin of his ass. It’s all it takes for him to come, the one too many stimulus that pushes him over the edge, shaking him with the power of an earthquake, an onslaught of sensation that reverberates in Chanyeol’s soul too. It’s a pleasure so big and intense it’s not mere pleasure anymore, it becomes something disturbing and powerful that makes Baekhyun’s mind go blank and Chanyeol can only hold him through it, wraps his arm around him and murmur words of encouragement and love. Then, comes the relief. Baekhyun’s body sags on the bed, completely spent, and Chanyeol moves away, carefully not to touch him now.
He prepares a glass of water and a warm towel and he disappears in the bathroom for a few minutes, palming himself through his jeans. His dick is so hard that, when he pulls it out, all it takes is a few pumps before he’s releasing all over his hand.
When he comes back, Baekhyun is half asleep, smiling his sated, satisfied smile. Chanyeol reduced him to this state, Chanyeol made him pregnant and hormonal and needy, but Chanyeol is also the one who helped him through this and the thought fills him with pride.
“Thank you,” whispers Baekhyun. “I was going crazy.”
“Now you know what it feels like to be me,” answers Chanyeol, and if Baekhyun could he would kick him. Like this, he merely grunts and sighs when Chanyeol kisses him.
“Next time…”
“…I’ll carry the baby, I know, I know. Try to sleep, my love.”
Power outage
A power outage (also called a power cut, a power blackout, power failure or a blackout) is a short- or long-term loss of the electric power to an area.
Yes! It didn’t have the 19th century romanticism type of flowery language (lol) but it was definitely well written. 99% grammatical error free, free of ugly cliches and very descriptive! Vivid imagery and a plunge into characters’ emotions! 10/10 I miss this fanfic quality (the only others I’ve found like this are a jongky fic on AFF that’s been put on hold and an OT12 fic that… is also on hiatus pls save my soul)
Fic link (chanbaek ft Xiuhun, side!kaisoo and teeny tiny bits of fanxing)
The first alpha to sense an omega's first heat gets to knot him first- those are the rules. Except Sehun thinks he might die of pleasure before Seunghyun finally knots him.
Summary: Baekhyun is a vampire who hates humans for good reasons and Chanyeol is a human who hates vampires for bad reasons. While vampires get killed and beheaded and the culprit is nowhere to be found, Chanyeol meets Baekhyun again and suddenly everything he’s always believed about monsters doesn’t matter anymore.
Notes: let me just tell you… PERFECTION ;A; reading this 60k masterpiece is extremely satisfying for my vampire thirst. vampirehunter!chanyeol and vampire!baek and yeol’s a bit, no actually, a huge ass in this lol also i find it really interesting how this fic is set in modern times and that vampires and humans co exist. and also the storyline is seamlessly written, each chapter is exciting. loved the sexual tension and the action going on, and i personally loved baek’s characterization. YA’LL HAFTA READ - Admin Rose
thank you so much, admin rose, you made a poor author really happy today ♥ and also thanks to everyone else who reblogged and tagged with their lovely comments bless you all ;;
Baekhyun is a vampire who hates humans for good reasons and Chanyeol is a human who hates vampires for bad reasons. While vampires get killed and beheaded and the culprit is nowhere to be found, Chanyeol meets Baekhyun again and suddenly everything he's always believed about monsters doesn't matter anymore.
I'm ready for the fall (ready for the colors to burn to gold and crumble away)
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Baekhyun/Chanyeol, Minseok/Sehun, Junmyeon/Irene, Kyungsoo/Jongin, broken!Baekhyun/Seulgi
Wordcount: 60k~
Warning: sexual intercourse, biting, minor use of drugs as power suppressants, murder, mutilation, mind control, possible dubcon
Do you have any favorite chanbaek fics? Maybe you can share some of them with us? :з
oooooooh man, you put me in a spot here well if you must know my favorites are:
-coffee and tv (i just love how realistic this fic is. how the author describes the fall out and the reconciliation like, how the characters handled the situation and stuff it’s just amazing. and i don’t know there’s smthn about the writer’s style that makes it so light. i mean light like it’s not a burden to read??? do you get me??? lol anyway just read it. i was enlightened and my chest felt lighter after reading this, it’s just so amazing and also all of her fics p.s i cried. not bcos it was sad, and heart breaking but bcos it was just so beautiful. like the way it was written was beautiful. the words the ending the feelings. thinking about it makes me tear up ;;)
-lost forever (okay when i read this i was just so happy and very impressed that the author put in little facts from canon to the fic. it is so good. as a reader i appreciate little details like this and it is not only from this fic but others she did as well!!especially her so sick of love songs (whispers read it) i also love how the marry-each-other-when-we’re-still-single-at-some-age was used in here like when it was brought up the “courting” started and the following events were so feel inducing. really good read!!!)
-forever (and the reasons why we fall in place) - (i have no words. just read it and you will understand)
-run away with me (of course then came you is a given, but my second most favorite fic from this author is this one. she claims this to be cliche but i did not think that at all and that’s what made me love this fic so much. the author took a different route from the usual romance+fluff she’s so A M A Z I N G at and it frickin worked. this was more romance+slight-angst but the romance is very evident. the love, the feelings ugh how to explain. okay let me put it this way, the author’s way of describing the character’s emotions was so raw, so solid and i love it.)
-light up (i love love love love love love love love the setting of this fic!!!!!!! like the soulmates au in a different light and it is so out there that i need more [bcos it’s not complete yet] it’s like 25 lives but with a meaning behind why person a in the pairing has this kind of status in life while person b is in that kind of status and stuff like that. AND ALSO!! while reading this you could understand the desperation in baekhyun and why he keeps doing what he’s doing (this takes the cakes for me bcos a lot of fics i see have no explanation as to why baekhyun keeps staying even tho chanyeol’s being a selfish asshole [i do not count “because i love him” as a valid explanation. no.]) i seldom read angst but when done right i thirst for it. and she did it right.)
-the boss (the setting of this is so cool. and i really like that the author made the mafia boss as baekhyun and not chanyeol and she made baekhyun so B A D A S S . yes. the badassiest. and the progression of feelings between the two is not fast paced and hurried. i LOVE progress and not in-your-face feelings eww lol and it’s kinda like reading a thriller novel or smthn idk. really cool!!)
-listen closely(this could be a start) - (basicaly the bodyguard au series. i love this au series bcos I LOVE AUs LIKE THESE. I AM A SUCKER FOR THESE THINGS FUDGE IT. I HAVE WAITED FOR SO LONG TO READ AN AU LIKE THIS AND SHE DELIVERED OMG!! it’s not finished yet so i am sitting on the edge of my seat bcos i want- no - i NEED to know what happens next ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; i like that she made baekhyun all shy and reserved and just plain baekhyun around chanyeol but on stage he’s all charisma and confidence and that makes for great fluff material. she’s a talented writer, srsly very good ;; you should read all of her fics!!
-six days left to be hip young and loving it (from all the fics my sister made this one is my favorite. i was so game on how they made-up at the end and how they “talked” it out lol. i really didn’t feel like it was fast paced or in your face at all. i really love that when she writes it’s so unconventional and things are so unexpected!! such a breath of fresh hahaha and she has the same sense of humor as me and everything she writes is very funny especially i wanna dance with somebody (with somebody who loves me) it’s kaisoo but the side chanbaek here is G O L D. )
-we make a great pear (the author described chanbaek’s height difference so well!! i cry ;;;;;;;;;; she got the perspective of both baekhyun and chanyeol on their height difference so perfectly that i can just imagine canon chanbaek thinking the same way. very lovely ;;)
-vampires in space (look at the title. how could you not)
-17/31 (age gap at its finest!! i really like how the author made it that the younger one is thirsting [and i use this term literally] for the older and it is amazing. i love how persistent and sure chanyeol is in getting in mr. byun’s pants lmao very nice read!!)
THERE ARE MORE OMG BUT THESE ARE ALL I CAN THINK OF RIGHT NOW ;;;; i’m not sure if i will add more or smthn but if i think of new ones i wil put it here i guess lol. i hope you don’t mind my ramblings on them i can’t help myself lol
to my lovely girl @owmichi happy birthday! i wanted to write more and more for you, but i still hope you like this short, late piece. ilu ♥
new canvas | baekyeol | 2267w | pg | | 12/30 | art by lovely @sulbipage
“I don’t think this is the way a prince is supposed to be painted.”
“Don’t move.”
“Chanyeol…”
Baekhyun whines and Chanyeol wishes he could capture it, the color of Baekhyun’s voice, the way he trembles at the end with excitement. He tries to mask it as discomfort, but Chanyeol has known Baekhyun long enough to realize when he’s really tired from posing for him and when he’s just acting coy and thinking naughty.
“I’m tired, Chanyeol.”
“I don’t think this is the way a prince is supposed to complain.”
Baekhyun laughs. Golden, the color of endless what fields with just a tip of green, the sky as blue as it can get. Baekhyun’s laughs are always sunny.
“You’re right, a prince is not supposed to complain. A prince is supposed to give orders, right?”
Teasing is purple, turning to violet when he smirks. Baekhyun is so many colors and Chanyeol wants to paint them all. But if he were to choose a color, only one, a color to paint Baekhyun’s boldness and his innocent sensuality, his childish streak, the storms in in eyes and the blush spread on his naked skin, Chanyeol would choose red.
“Then, as a prince, I order you to come here and kiss me, Chanyeol.”
Baekhyun is not a real prince, Baekhyun is an art project gone terribly wrong, a random twist of fate, a red splotch of paint on Chanyeol’s black and white canvas.
It all began during a windy, ill-fated morning, the air still with static electricity and smelling distinctively like the five minutes before it starts raining. The sky was dark with thick clouds, a promise of storm that Chanyeol would’ve sketched with lampblack and brimstone over cream colored paper.
Chanyeol used to be a black and white kind of guy. He liked the safety that came from turning a two dimensional shape in a solid figure just with the use of a charcoal pencil. Color only dilutes the pure, raw beauty of a drawing, blending it until the shape loses its importance, choked by an unnecessary range of shades. Chanyeol didn’t like colors. He liked order and elegance, calligraphy and geometry, abstraction over reality – because reality can never be only black and white.
But reality is unpredictable, reality is confusing, reality is colorful. Reality meant Baekhyun, a random face stolen from Chanyeol’s past and thrown in front of him in his art class as his teacher told him, “This is Baekhyun from the Theatre class. He’ll be your model for this project.”
Chanyeol didn’t have to make an effort to remember him. Baekhyun had a regular face, pale under the unforgiving, aseptic light of the classroom, a face Chanyeol had already seen a few times, not around the campus, but at home.
“Byun Baekhyun, right?” he had asked, already taking the measurements of Baekhyun’s features, of his body proportions – this is a body that will come to live in paper under Chanyeol’s brush.
Then Baekhyun had smiled, a full blow of colors exploding right in Chanyeol’s face and making him startle, overwhelmed.
“Yes, and you’re little Park Chanyeol, right? My grandma has always a lot to say about you when I come to visit.”
They weren’t friends, they didn’t attend the same school and they didn’t even live in the same part of the city. Baekhyun was just the young nephew of the old lady living next door to Chanyeol. He visited her two or three times in a year and Chanyeol couldn’t have guessed what color his eyes were if someone asked. Baekhyun wasn’t part of his life and he wasn’t ever going to be.
“I’m really excited to work with you.”
Chanyeol had simply nodded, shortly blinded by Baekhyun’s dashing smile.
The theme was ‘royalty’. It was part of a joint project within the Visual Arts Department. No one really wanted to do it but it counted as forty-five per cent of their final grade. They had to learn how to cooperate and work together, or they were screwed. Baekhyun and Chanyeol were, in fact, really screwed.
“What should I do?”
“I don’t know. You’re the muse.”
“I thought you were supposed to be my muse, Chanyeol. You draw, I take inspiration and I create the character.”
“How can I draw a character you haven’t created yet?”
Baekhyun was witty, unnecessarily loud and extremely dramatic. Chanyeol could’ve spent half of his life drawing and organizing all the possible expressions that boy was able to make into his mental folder, and Baekhyun would’ve still been able to pop out some more faces just to spite him and keep him from doing his job right.
“Could you please stop?”
“I am perfectly still, Chanyeol.”
“You’re scrunching your nose too much! What are you thinking about?”
“I like your nose. Why aren’t you the model? You’re so pretty! Hey, do you want to join the Theatre class?”
They decided Baekhyun would be the prince. He wasn’t dignified enough to be a king, though Chanyeol had bitterly suggested Baekhyun was pretty enough to be a princess during one of their late, after class fights about the project. That comment had earned him a big bruise on temple and Baekhyun a long scratch on his forearm. Chanyeol’s bruise was a deep purple, Baekhyun’s scratch was angry red and Chanyeol fumed all his way home, thinking about Baekhyun, his extreme obnoxiousness and the way colors were slowly slipping into his life because of this insufferable boy.
Two weeks into the first sketch of the painting, Chanyeol had a major freak-out.
“It doesn’t work. It just… It doesn’t work.”
“What is not working?”
Baekhyun wasn’t working. He had an average face, easy curves, easy angles, Chanyeol could’ve drawn it with his eyes closed, but whatever effort he put into tracing those few lines into the canvas, the final result would look nothing like Baekhyun.
“You’re right, it looks pretty dull. Doesn’t look like me at all.”
“Oh, thank you, I hadn’t really noticed.”
“It lacks…” Chanyeol really hoped Baekhyun wasn’t going to say what Chanyeol thought he was going to say. “It lacks color, Chanyeol.”
“It doesn’t lack color. It lacks definition.”
“It’s too definite. Looks, my cheekbones aren’t that sharp!”
“Ok, fine! I will add some shades here to make your face look fuller, is it alright with you?”
Baekhyun’s eyes said it wasn’t and Chanyeol knew he was right. He could keep adding grey shades, caking the charcoal on top of Baekhyun’s cheeks, but it would’ve only made him look dirty and lifeless.
Baekhyun needed something else. Bright red on his cheeks, warm brown turning fire on his hair. Chanyeol stubbornly held the pencil tighter and added more shades, focusing on blending it with his thumb to avoid Baekhyun’s eyes.
They decided to go for sculpture as their main theme. Chanyeol had decided.
“I want you to look like the beautiful statue of a prince.”
Because statues are solid, statues are still, statues are universes of white stone and dark shadows.
“Did you know statues were not originally white when they were created? Most of them were painted.”
“Your point?”
“You’re just running away from the problem.”
Chanyeol didn’t answer. Arguing with Baekhyun was a defeat in itself. That boy had a way to twist every argument against Chanyeol.
“And anyway, you’re a painter. Why would you draw a sculpture? If you liked statues then you should’ve studied to be a sculptor, don’t you think?”
“Undress.”
Bold, too bold, but unexpected enough to throw Baekhyun out of his reverie. It took a moment for the boy to regain his composure and his teasing smile.
“Why so fast Chanyeol? I thought we were still working on knowing each other.”
“I am knowing you. I need to know your proportions if I have to draw the rest of your body properly.”
“Is this everything I am to you? Do you only like me for my body, Chanyeol?”
As stupid as it was, it made Chanyeol smile.
“So you can smile, Yeol, I’m surprised.”
“Did you just call me Yeol?”
“Do you prefer Chan?”
“Baekhyun? Please shut up and let me draw you.”
Drawing Baekhyun soon became easier than breath but Chanyeol still couldn’t get him right. He asked Baekhyun to undress, again and again. He studied his lines, the axis of his shoulders, the soft bumps of his spine emerging like little hills from the milky expanse of his back when he arched.
Chanyeol memorized the way his palms clenched and unclenched when he was too cold or too restless or simply too bored. He practiced until he owned every single movement of his elegant fingers.
But there were still things he couldn’t grasp in his drawings. Baekhyun’s blush, taking over his chest whenever Chanyeol stared at him a bit too long and a bit too intensely, coloring his cheeks and ears and the bridge of his nose. The nice contrast between the red cape Baekhyun had draped on his body and his slightly flushed skin, the gold of the fake plastic crown he wore on his head, reflecting a rainbow of light against the floor every time Baekhyun tilted his head just so.
“You’re a prince, Baekhyun, act princely.”
“You’re a painter, Chanyeol, stop staring at my ass and just paint it already.”
They weren’t destined to collide. Chanyeol could’ve submitted his dull, black and white painting of a boy trying too hard to balance the heavy crown over his head and he could’ve just been happy with that. Baekhyun could’ve brought on the stage his own piece about a prince who was too bored to pose for hours for a painter. They were both so talented their teachers would’ve loved their project anyway, as incomplete and lacking as it was.
They weren’t destined to collide, but Baekhyun’s lips were too red – slick with spit and half bitten –and his face was so flushed and the way he looked up and stared at Chanyeol, his eyelashes casting shadows over the pink rose of his cheeks, was impossible to ignore.
Three days before the deadline of the project, as they met for the last time to look over the final painting and say their own goodbye, Chanyeol stopped fighting the attraction between them. He stopped fighting the onslaught of color slamming against his eyelids, opening doors he didn’t even know existed. Chanyeol stopped fighting and splattered the front of his canvas with red. Red in Baekhyun’s eyes, red in his lips, blended, soft red in his cheeks and his collarbones, red in his hair from the reflection of the sunset. In the canvas, Baekhyun had started to change. He was not a statue anymore but a spirit of fire, a dancer, a magician, a warrior and a lover. He was a prince, wrapped in red and white and gold.
When he was done, Baekhyun looked at the ruined painting.
“I’m pretty.”
“You are.”
“Would you like to kiss me?”
“You’re a prince. Your wish is my command.”
Baekhyun smiled, blinding bright, open and colorful and Chanyeol was suddenly aware, deep inside, that he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to find the right colors to paint that smile.
But there was time for that. A lot of time.
In the end, the project is a disaster. Changing the theme three days before the deadline was one of the stupidest ideas Chanyeol has ever had, but as his teacher tells him his (somewhat terrible) grade, he also pats Chanyeol’s shoulder.
“The technique was rushed and mediocre, but there was something in that painting, something that any of your previous paintings lacked. So I’m giving you this terrible mark now, but if in the next three month you can show me a decent, not half-finished project, I may think about changing it to a slightly less terrible mark. All right, Park?”
And this is how he ends up staring at Baekhyun again, wearing white and red, splayed on an ancient looking sofa with a fake, plastic golden crown that is barely hanging there, ready to fall off his head.
The white cloth is too big and the hem keeps slipping and showing Baekhyun’s throat, collarbone and shoulder, and the nicest, faintest hint of blush.
Baekhyun tries to put the cloth back, but Chanyeol stops him.
“Don’t move.”
“But I’m half-naked.”
“Don’t fucking move.”
“I don’t think this is the way a prince is supposed to be painted.”
“Don’t. Move.”
“Chanyeol…”
Baekhyun whines and Chanyeol wishes he could capture it, the color of Baekhyun’s voice, the way he trembles at the end with excitement. He tries to mask it as discomfort, but Chanyeol has known Baekhyun long enough to realize when he’s really tired from posing for him and when he’s just acting coy and thinking naughty.
“I’m tired, Chanyeol.”
“I don’t think this is the way a prince is supposed to complain.”
Baekhyun laughs. Golden, the color of endless what fields with just a tip of green, the sky as blue as it can get. Baekhyun’s laughs are always sunny.
“You’re right, a prince is not supposed to complain. A prince is supposed to give orders, right?”
Teasing is purple, turning to violet when he smirks. Baekhyun is so many colors and Chanyeol wants to paint them all. But if he were to choose a color, only one, a color to paint Baekhyun’s boldness and his innocent sensuality, his childish streak, the storm in in eyes and the blush spread on his naked skin, Chanyeol would choose red.
“Then, as a prince, I order you to come here and kiss me, Chanyeol.”
or that au where baekhyun is an astronomy teacher who’s having a baby and too many thoughts | baekyeol | 590w | pg | for @uoyvulihgfedcba | 11/30
Baekhyun is a comet, burning and falling, leaving pieces of his sanity behind. His legs hurt, his belly hurts, his chest hurts. His head is spinning, like a celestial body orbiting around the sun in constant revolution.
Baekhyun’s sun is too small to keep him warm, for now, but soon enough it will grow. To help him find his way home, Chanyeol has painted the room a pale blue, spraying the ceiling with stars that will glow in the dark. Baekhyun names them in his mind. Betelgeuse, Rigel and Bellatrix, the Fighter of the constellation of Orion, the Hunter. Aldebaran, the Follower, from Baekhyun’s favorite constellation, the Taurus. Altair from Aquila; Vega from Lyra; Arcturus, the brightest star in the northern celestial hemisphere, the Polar Light. Baekhyun has chosen all the clearest lights and Chanyeol has painted them at the corners of the room, to chase away the monsters hidden in the dark and draw a path that will always lead their child home.
“I knew I would’ve found you here. You really love this place, right?”
Baekhyun opens his eyes and sees his husband, staring at him from the door of the future room of their son. Baekhyun wonders if it’s possible for a planet to revolve around two different suns, because that’s what he feels it will happen when the baby will be born and Baekhyun will have to break his soul to be with both Chanyeol and their son all the time.
For now, he just shivers and hugs his knees, sniffling a little. He wants to get up and run to Chanyeol but lately even walking has become difficult, let alone running. Moreover, from the moment he let himself slide on the floor next to the crib he knew there was no way for him to get up on his own.
“I was waiting for you,” he says, extending his arms towards Chanyeol, and of course Chanyeol smiles and helps him up, his strong hands stroking his sides and finally resting on his swollen belly where their baby sun is growing and waiting for dawn to come.
“Do you think he will like it here?”
“I think she will like it here.”
“Oh please, Chanyeol, you know it’s a boy.”
“Fifty-fifty my love, but if it’s a boy we can always try again until you pop out a girl.”
“If you like babies so much, maybe you should pop out one next time.”
Chanyeol strokes his hair. “Oh, I would like to.”
There’s so much love in his eyes, entire galaxies are stirring and stars are burning from the intensity of his feelings for Baekhyun. Sometimes, Chanyeol is Baekhyun’s sun and sometimes he is his everything. Chanyeol is the answer to all the questions Baekhyun has ever asked the sky, the certainty that the purpose of the universe was to give birth to his man and let Baekhyun fall in love with him.
The baby chooses that moment to kick, under Chanyeol’s hands. Baekhyun moans in pain but Chanyeol’s eyes widen in wonder.
“Did you feel it?”
“Yes, Chanyeol, I felt it, it is my belly so of course…”
But Chanyeol is not listening anymore. He touches Baekhyun’s bump with something akin to reverence, revelation dawning in his eyes with the power of a supernova exploding in the sky, and right now Baekhyun is sure that he and Chanyeol were destined to be binary stars from the beginning.
Binary stars
noun ASTRONOMY
a system of two stars in which one star revolves round the other or both revolve round a common center.
trash arranged marriage au is trash. rated R for ust and bed steamy things
Baekhyun wakes up with a startle and a tiny, inaudible moan. He stops breathing, trying to listen past his heart knocking angrily against his chest, to see if Chanyeol is still asleep. His husband’s breaths are even, deep and calm. His body is lax and impossibly warm against Baekhyun’s back. He seems fast asleep. Except for his hand, draped on Baekhyun’s bare chest, drawing tiny swirls on his hip in the most maddening way.
trash arranged marriage au is trash. rated R for ust, dubious consent and hinted sexual content
Baekhyun wakes up with a startle and a tiny, inaudible moan. He stops breathing, trying to listen past his heart knocking angrily against his chest, to see if Chanyeol is still asleep. His husband’s breaths are even, deep and calm. His body is lax and impossibly warm against Baekhyun’s back. He seems fast asleep. Except for his hand, draped on Baekhyun’s bare chest, drawing tiny swirls on his hip in the most maddening way.
“Hey,” he mumbles, “stop.”
There is no answer but a groan and Chanyeol arranges his limbs even tighter around him. His nails scrape against his hipbone, where there is more skin than flesh, and Baekhyun sees a flame of white behind closed eyelids.
“Chanyeol, wake up,” he begs, because his skin is on fire. He wonders for how long Chanyeol has touched him in his sleep tonight, for his own body to feel so sensitive and needy. For the briefest moment, he wonders how would it feel if Chanyeol was touching him for real, and not as an unconscious, lazy reaction to whatever wet dream is having.
Slowly, he tries to extract himself from Chanyeol’s hug, but the other boy doesn’t let him go. He hides his head in Baekhyun’s nape, breathing in Baekhyun’s hair, leaving moist traces on the back of his neck with his mouth as he mumbles dark words in the secret language of the Moonland. Baekhyun shudders and has to catch his breath before it turns into another moan.
This, Chanyeol blindly groping him in his sleep, should not be so strange, at least according to what Baekhyun knows about him. Chanyeol is from the Moonland, and Baekhyun has always heard rumors about the promiscuity of the tribes. They see sex as something enjoyable and there is no shame in lying with different people, as long as they don’t already belong to someone else. Chanyeol was also a prince, a competent warrior and, Baekhyun loathes to admit it, an attractive man. He must have been popular, he must have been used to have a different boy or girl in his bed every night, he must have been used to caress their skin lovingly even after they were both spent, trying to find their sweet spots. He must have been a good lover. Maybe he wanted to marry one of those faceless lovers, maybe he used to draw imaginary tattoos on their skin as they slept, waiting for the moment he could braid their hair properly.
Maybe he’s dreaming of them even now, as his hand crawls over Baekhyun’s abdomen, wavering over his bellybutton, before settling on his nipple. Baekhyun can’t stifle his moan this time. He closes his eyes, trying to push the fire away, but Chanyeol’s hand on his nipple is warm and insistent. The other one settles on the curve of his ass and squeezes for a moment the world stops existing, Baekhyun himself stops existing, reduced to nothing but a bundle of nerves created to react to Chanyeol’s fine hands. His skin sings under the pressure of Chanyeol’s fingertips playing him like the finest instrument. Baekhyun has to bite his quivering lips and shake his head.
“Stop, Chanyeol!” he begs, again, because he feels the liquid fire in his veins rushing between his legs, leaving static electricity in his wake. He has never felt this aroused in his life.
He squirms, raking his nails over Chanyeol’s wrist at the same time Chanyeol’s thumb roughly presses against his nipple and the world turns upside down. Elbowing his way out of Chanyeol’s hold is useless because as soon as he’s free from the cage of his arms and rolling on his back Chanyeol is on him again, forcing Baekhyun’s legs open with his knee, trapping his wrist in a birdcage of strong fingers. He’s awake now.
“What are you doing?” he says, voice roughened by sleep and tousled hair falling over their faces.
“What are you doing, let me go!”
Chanyeol smirks, smug. “All those talks about propriety, acting high and almighty and look at you right now.” He pushes his body down, messily thrusting against Baekhyun, and their cocks meet one, two times. They’re both hard. Baekhyun burns in embarrassment.
“It’s your fault,” he says, “it’s all your fault…”
It sounds desperate even to his own hears, over the pounding of his own blood. It’s all Chanyeol’s faults for touching him every night, first light touches, featherlike caresses that bordered on tenderness and became possessive, rough strokes made to claim and brand, night after night.
“You never complained, you even asked for it some nights, in your sleep… Where you can be honest with yourself and with what you want, love.”
Baekhyun’s eyes widen and he feels his heart drop in his chest. “You were awake, all this time… You were awake!”
Chanyeol kisses him, licking the taste of sleep out of his lips, letting Baekhyun’s hands go so that his own can settle on his hip, chest, stomach, wherever they can reach. Baekhyun’s body recognizes the touch, welcomes it even – his traitor skin hurts for Chanyeol, only to burn happily when he finally touches it – and his body goes lax, his mouth falls open under the insistent press of Chanyeol’s lips. Chanyeol kisses like a warrior, to conquest, to kill and destroy and not to make prisoners. Baekhyun has never seen Chanyeol fighting but has heard the rumors of the son of the king, bright like a blaze and as much as ruthless and devastating. Chanyeol is everywhere, overwhelming, claiming Baekhyun’s mouth and his body, not leaving him the time to react.
In the morning, Baekhyun will blame sleep, Baekhyun will blame surprise, Baekhyun will blame his own stupidity. But now, as Chanyeol takes hold of his sex and tugs and smirks in Baekhyun’s mouth when Baekhyun nothing but keens, now Baekhyun knows that is no way for him to stop Chanyeol.
That’s why he cries when Chanyeol stops himself, abruptly, licking his lips and stilling his hand on Baekhyun’s sex. Baekhyun’s world shakes and he hates himself but he follows Chanyeol’s lips with his head until the other boy stops him with a finger on his moist, tender, well-kissed lips.
“How does it feel, Baekhyun?” Even his name sounds like sin coming out from those lips. He whimpers and Chanyeol snickers and traces the shape of his mouth with his fingers, the same way he did it with his mouth. “How does it feel to be left hanging like this? I could make you fall right now, I could take everything I want from you now and here and you would let me… Look at you, you’re begging for it.”
He kisses Baekhyun again, quickly, to kill the angry answer blossoming on his lips. “You asked if I was awake, and yes, I was. All this time I’ve been touching you while you slept, I’ve made sure to put my hands everywhere on you. Look at this,” he says, as he pinches Baekhyun’s nipple and receives a stifled gasp and burning, helpless glare. “So sensitive, my husband, so stubborn and conceited and arrogant. I want to take the cold out of your eyes, make you helpless and pliant and always warm for me. I want to ruin you for anyone else, shape you so that you’ll immediately answer to my touch.”
“I won’t let you do that,” he says, but Chanyeol bites his lips and laughs of his weak, throaty voice.
“I think it’s already too late to stop me, Baekhyun. But go on, keep convincing yourself you don’t want me.”
He completely lifts himself up so that his body is not touching Baekhyun’s anymore. Cold seeps in his bones and Baekhyun tries to get up to follow him, but Chanyeol pushes him back again.
“If you want me to touch you now, you must beg for it.”
This time Baekhyun gets up, for real, and he’s the one who pushes Chanyeol away.
“You’re sick! I will never do it, you understand me? Never! I’ll never let you touch me again either!”
Chanyeol’s smile is nothing but poisonous as he wraps himself under the sheets again, turning on his side to give his back to Baekhyun.
“Take care of your hard-on for me, love, and goodnight.”
i hope none of you believes that i’ve plotted this fic before-hand i just write randomly what comes into my mind when i’m bored. in like... five minutes. hence the typos.
Baekhyun folds his clothes carefully, smoothing the wrinkles and making sure all the corners are neat and sharp before laying them down on the chair. The night whispers against his naked skin, cold songs of water falling down from the uplands. He shivers.
“Baekhyun, come to bed.”
“I’m almost done.” His voice falters as he says it and he curses himself for sounding so weak, almost begging. He doesn’t want to come to bed. He doesn’t want to face Chanyeol. He doesn’t want to be here.
The marble is cold against his bare soles. Chanyeol’s hand is warm. He grabs Baekhyun as soon as he is on arm’s reach and yanks him on the bed. Thick, rough fingers, hardened by years of sword practice, tangle in his hair, pulling at the short braid on the left side of his head. Chanyeol’s fingers look clumsy but they’re surprisingly nimble as they undo the simple braid and start plaiting it again from Baekhyun’s hairline.
“You were good today, you didn’t pull at it.”
Baekhyun snorts. He tried to pull at it, he always try to pull at the braid – sometimes, it feels heavier than a simple braid, sometimes it feels like a chain tying him to Chanyeol forever and he just wants to break free - but he can’t simply get rid of it. He had to learn how to leave his braid alone, because if he messes with it he has to walk around for the rest of the day with unkempt, tousled hair.
The first time it happened he tried to go to Chanyeol for help and his husband simply laughed at him. “It’s your fault for pulling at it, my love.” Oh, how disrespectful did that word sound coming from his mouth. “Look, you made a mess.”
“Can’t you just fix it?”
“And why would I? If someone asks, just tell them I fucked you too rough and be proud of it.”
His smirk was too smug for Baekhyun to handle. He stormed away and hid in the caves under the castle for the whole day, drowning his anger in the silence of the lake. He’s never asked Chanyeol for help again and he’s taught himself to leave his braid alone.
He whimpers when Chanyeol pulls too hard and the other boy curses under his breath and rubs at his hairline. “You’re too sensitive. If it hurts now, what will happen when I’ll plait your bridal braid?”
Baekhyun doesn’t know. He hopes that day will never come. His hair is still too short to be plaited in the proper bridal style, and Chanyeol wouldn’t do it anyway.
“I can only do it after we’ve had sex,” is what he said, during their wedding night a few weeks before, as he hungrily took in Baekhyun’s still clothed body, “and you won’t let me have you tonight. So what do we do?”
He remembers Chanyeol’s ravenous eyes, the strength of the arms pinning him down, the inexorable weight of Chanyeol’s sex against his thigh. He remembers the tears, burning his eyes without his permission, he remembers the hurt and the fury in his heart. Chanyeol had let him go.
“I won’t rape you, Your Majesty, but I won’t recognize you as my husband either.”
“I don’t want you to,” he had cried, but both of them knew he couldn’t afford the luxury of a choice.
So he had undressed, for this dirty, rough warrior of the Moonland who had the face of a boy and the body of a man. He had stood in front of him, naked of everything except the cobalt pendant that proves his royal lineage. “Come here,” had ordered Chanyeol, and Baekhyun had come, wondering how much blood – blood of the rogues of the mountain, but also blood of people of the waterfall, Baekhyun’s people – had stained the hands that were going to touch him.
Chanyeol had watched him, for minutes that seemed to fade into hours, but his hands hadn’t touched Baekhyun. He touched the pendant, the tear shaped blue stone hanging from a shining little chain. He tugged on it until the silver left tiny trails on Baekhyun’s throat.
“Take this off too.”
“I can’t. This is…”
“I know what it is. That’s why I want it off.”
It wasn’t in Baekhyun’s nature to be compliant, but it was in his nature to be loyal. Not to Chanyeol, not to his father, but to the people of Under-The-Waterfall. He had never been a prince like Chanyeol or his older brothers, raised to lead an army to battle, raised to fight until death, if necessary. But he wasn’t less of a prince than them and if they were ready to die for their people he could be ready to do this little thing for them.
So he did it, looking right into Chanyeol’s eyes. Yes, look at me. You may be ready to give on your people to defend your pride, but I’m willing to give up on my pride to defend my people.
He had let the pendant fall on the floor, together with the rest of his wedding clothes, and he had followed Chanyeol to bed.
He had expected pain. He had expected Chanyeol to roughly throw him on his belly and take him there, on lavender scented sheets. Chanyeol was hard and angry and his life had just been taken away from him. A life of control and suddenly he wasn’t in control of anything anymore. Anything except Baekhyun. He had expected Chanyeol to claim that control, to revel in it just because he could – just because it was the only thing he could still do.
He hadn’t expected Chanyeol to crash in the bed next to him and put an arm around his chest, dragging him closer. For a moment, there was only the sound of his tiny heart smashing against his ribs like a mad bird trying to escape from his cage, then Chanyeol groaned and let him go. He pulled the blanket over their naked bodies, letting out a satisfied sigh and pressing Baekhyun more firmly against his chest before wrapping his arms around him again.
“What are you doing?”
“Enjoying my wedding night at the best of my possibilities. Now shut up and let me sleep, Your Majesty. If you behave, tomorrow you will have your braid.”
He had been too shocked to react, to protest – Chanyeol’s cock was still hard against him, Chanyeol’s arms were tight around him and he was too hot, too naked, too close. When he woke up, the morning after, with messy hair and sticky skin, Chanyeol pulled him – still sleepy and pliant and soft – on his lap and wiped the traces of runaway kohl away from his cheeks with his thumb. Then, he started to braid his hair, quick and efficient, his eyes squinting in concentration.
“This is not a wedding braid,” he said when he finished, pulling at a runaway strand to tilt Baekhyun’s face upwards, to have Baekhyun look at him, “but it’s a braid nonetheless. Behave, and tonight I’ll braid it again for you.”
He had nodded and then he had blushed, suddenly aware of their nudity and the insistent press of Chanyeol’s sex against his skin.
“Go, run away before I change my mind. Have a good day, Baekhyun.”
another installment tomorrow, maybe. i will write smut for this fic i swear trust me
set in this same au: ♥ there will be another installment in the next few days bc i’m mean but not this mean and i think that kind of cliffhanger is actually forbidden by the law or something
Baekhyun wears pale blue at the wedding. It’s the traditional color of Under-The-Waterfall. Pale blue and black, the color of his hair as it falls haphazardly over his forehead. He’s not allowed to cut it and he can’t even move it out of his face. Chanyeol is the only one who can touch it, when he braids it to seal their union.
The ceremony is boring and complicated – like Under-The-Waterfall is most of the time. In the Moonland, weddings are only celebrated through matching tattoos, lover braids and sex. The signs of the consummated marriage are worn proudly, showcased for everyone to see the morning after, but there aren’t any grand displays of wealth, no empty vows in front of the entire reign. Marriage is holy and only belongs to the two lovers.
But Baekhyun is not his lover, this Chanyeol can clearly tell. Baekhyun is a recalcitrant prisoner dragged to be sacrificed in front of his gods in the name of peace and safety. Chanyeol is not that different. His parents disapprove of this union, Baekhyun’s parents disapprove of this union, their entire kingdoms disapprove of this union. But without this union the Moonland will fall soon, swept away by an implacable disease that only the people of the Waterfall can cure. And without the military power of the Moonland tribes protecting the border, the rogues of the mountains will come and destroy everything and everyone on the valley, including the city hidden under the waterfall.
They need each other to survive, but they don’t trust each other enough, just like him and Baekhyun.
Chanyeol doesn’t look at his husband for the entire duration of the ceremony and the party, not even when they’re required to kiss and his lips barely grace Baekhyun’s tense jaw. No one was expecting them to kiss for real anyway, just like they don’t expect them to have sex - this is just a show, a political move. After all, who in the Moonland would ever want to fuck a pale, measly kid of the lake? (Chanyeol wants, oh, he wants to fuck Baekhyun so much.) Who in Under-The-Waterfall would ever want to fuck a barbarian of the tribes? Baekhyun certainly doesn’t, for now, but he will. Chanyeol will make sure of it.
Tonight though, Chanyeol walks past the hostility in his newly-wed husband’s eyes, past the tension in his body, the way his hands curl into fists at his sides, his legs twitching with the unexpressed instinct to just <i>flee</i> - away from Chanyeol, away from a family and a reign that gave him up like this. But the door is locked and heavily guarded. Baekhyun’s father has been adamantine. This wedding must be consumed.
No one expected the people of the Moonland to pull their weight like this, to demand something from the people who were supposed to help them, but Chanyeol has played his card fairly well and only now, in the sanctuary of their shared bedroom only barely lit by the moonlight, he allows himself to look into his husband’s eyes. But first, just because he can, just because he feels like being an asshole today – he didn’t want to be here, he never wanted to be here, but he’s going to make the best out of his new life – his eyes rake along the length of Baekhyun’s body, taking in the way the fabric hugs his waist and hips. He stares, taking and taking and never hiding his curiosity – he can do it, because he is Baekhyun’s husband, he has every right to do it – caressing Baekhyun’s body until he reaches his eyes. Baekhyun is shaking. With contempt or hunger or fear, Chanyeol doesn’t know. He wonders, if he tried to touch his husband now, would Baekhyun hit him? He doesn’t need to risk it, though.
“Undress yourself for me.”
Baekhyun looks at him, defiant, hateful.
“No.”
Chanyeol simply laughs and finally starts to tug at the knots of the complicated ceremonial vest they made him wear. It’s black, one of the colors of Under-The-Waterfall. Black and pale blue, and the green of the deep bottom of the lake. They didn’t let him wear the golden and bronze of the Moonland, the ochres, browns and red of the land where he was born. He used to wear comfortable clothes, to be light and fast, lethal against the enemies, not layers over layers of silk and velvet wrapped around his body like choking vines. The ominous sound of ripped silk fills the room as he finally manages to get rid of the garment, letting it fall on the ground in a heap of expensive fabric.
Chanyeol strips until there’s not between him and the heavy air of the room, and when he turns towards Baekhyun, he finds him staring stubbornly at the ceiling.
“Do you need help with that?” he asks, pointing to the rigid, intricate swirls of pearls and precious stones embroidered on Baekhyun’s silk vest.
“I don’t need your help,” says Baekhyun, still standing awkwardly in front of the bed.
“It will be pretty inconvenient for me to take your virginity while you’re wearing that thing.”
Baekhyun’s blush is so violent Chanyeol is able to see it in the dim light of the moon.
“You know our marriage will not be valid until I do it, and I didn’t give up my freedom for a fake arrangement.”
“Would you really condemn your people to death just because you want to humiliate me? If the marriage isn’t validated, my father won’t send the healers to your village. Are you so bad of a prince that…”
Chanyeol pushes him down on the bed and climbs over his body so fast he sees surprise twist into fear in Baekhyun’s eyes. The decorations of Baekhyun’s ceremonial vest bite into his naked skin but he doesn’t care. He holds Baekhyun down with his weight, one hand on his neck, the other one holding his husband’s right hand – the left is twisted safely between their bodies.
“Do you think my people like me being here? Do you think they enjoy seeing their prince, the same warrior they’ve followed to battle countless times, the same warrior they would’ve happily died for, groveling at your father’s feet like a beggar? Eating from your hands like a dog? They would rather die than seeing me humiliating myself like that. You don’t know what pride is, prince Under-The-Waterfall, but I won’t throw my tribe’s pride away like this. Now, please, undress, or I’ll have to do it for you.”
we’re the only ones who didn’t get the email about class being cancelled
just something i wrote trying to fight my writer’s block. based on an au post on tumblr which i can’t really find anymore so if you find it pls link it to me ;; (10/30 of my baekyeol ficlet challenge)
It's been a bad day, the kind of day when Baekhyun can't help but curse loudly and then hear his mother's voice echoing in his head "Language, Byun Baekhyun!". His cellphone died during the night, and with it died the alarm Baekhyun had set to wake up that morning. Luckily for him, Jongdae is a walking human alarm clock who wakes up every day at the crack of dawn and happily chirps his way through the kitchen to make coffee.
His voice is what makes Baekhyun open an eye - only one, the other still hidden by hair and pillow - only to close it immediately because there's too much light and can't Jongdae turn off the light?
No, he can't apparently, because it's seven thirty and Baekhyun only has about thirty minutes to wake up, scroll the heavy veil of sleep away from his warm body, get the nausea out of his system long enough to eat breakfast and make himself presentable for the forty minutes bus ride that separates his flat from the campus. He stumbles out of bed feeling like his every limb was hit by tennis balls, over and over again, and the last fragments of a nightmare-ish dream that involved Kyungsoo in a prince of Tennis cosplay accompany him through breakfast.
Jongdae tries to tell him that it's late, he really does. But Baekhyun is that kind of kid - he always realizes he has forgotten his scarf, his cellphone, his pencil case, the book he has to give back to Kyungsoo if he values his dear balls, his cellphone again - only when he's already running down the stairs. He has to come back five times and wait for Jongdae to toss him the apartment keys because he forgot them too and Jongdae won't guarantee he'll be there tonight to open the door for him.
When he reaches the stop, the bus is already disappearing behind the next curve and Baekhyun munches the first curse of the day.
He runs, because he's so used to being late that he has countless backup plans already, and if they don't work he can always say his cat died or something. He's a creative kid. He runs and he waits for another bus at another stop, another route, shorter - maybe he'll be able to get to the campus before the class begins - but much more trafficated. The bus he manages to find is more than cramped, it makes Baekhyun feel a little like he’s standing in a tuna can, all squished. He can feel some dude's elbow stabbing his sides and he snarls, but there's little he can do but wait and suffer in silence.
Breathing fresh air again after the twenty minutes ride is like stepping in paradise. From then, there's only a mad run separating him from a teacher who'll fail him if he keeps turning in late. It's not Baekhyun's fault if the university authorities still haven't understood that early classes are a torture and lower the students' ability to absorb information a good 30%.
Whatever.
Baekhyun trips inside the class only five minutes later, panting and breathing harshly, feeling like his lungs are going to collapse and wither. The class is empty.
Almost empty, actually. No teacher, no one of his friends, only the tall kid from the Advanced Marketing class, looking as lost as Baekhyun is. They stare at each other for a few seconds, in silence.
Baekhyun's phone vibrates in his pocket, the notification of Kyungsoo's reply to Baekhyun's I'm coming being simply a coming where you moron class was cancelled today
Baekhyun feels stupid. He almost died to get there in time, how could they delete class why wasn't he informed why-
Black dots explode in front of his eyes and he feels the three sips of tea he drank for breakfast jumping harshly in his stomach. Firm hands close around his shoulder, steadying him up. The Marketing boy has come to his rescue.
"Are you alright?"
He nods, "Yes, just hunger and the side effects of almost leaving a lung on the way to get here in time. My alarm clock didn't ring ad I even lost the bus."
"Looks like we’re the only ones who didn’t get the email about class being cancelled, jeez."
The boy scratches his head, not really knowig what to do.
Baekhyun sighs. "I even actually did my assignment for once."
Marketing boy’s eyes widen. "Did you? Can I see it? Sorry," he adds, probably feeling a little too forward for the sudden request, "I didn't even introduce myself. Park Chanyeol, I'm in the-"
"Marketing class, I know, I know. I know the major of every handsome student in the campus."
A cocky smile blooms on Chanyeol's face.
"Do you think I'm handsome, Byun Baekhyun?"
"T- that's hardly the point! How do you know my name?"
Chanyeol moves a strand of hair out of Baekhyun's forehead to see him better. Baekhyun feels breath catch in his throat. Don't blush don't blush don't blush don't blush.
"How could I not notice you? Always arriving late and looking so dishevelled and cute."
"Did you- Did you just call me cute?" Did just... This fucker... Baekhyun is going to end him he's going to... "Wanna come with me for a coffee? You look like you're going to faint anytime soon."
Oh god, Park has a nice smile. A thousand watt smile. One of those toothpaste commercial smiles.
"We can talk about the assignment later, and maybe then you can also give me your number."
The nerve. He thinks Baekhyun is so easy that he'll go on a coffee date with the first guy he meets in an empty classroom? Like that?
"I never said it was a date," comments Chanyeol with a smirk, and Baekhyun covers his face with a guilty expression when he realizes he's said it out loud. Oh fuck.
"I'm paying," Chanyeol assures, "and I'll add a pastry to that coffee offer if you accept within the next three seconds."
It takes him two and a half to accept. Marketing students and their marketing skills be damned.
condominio!au aka i have to stop stalking piurly’s twitter and ask (although there’s not enough condominio in this fic and i thereby declare it sucks)
The day Baekhyun, sweet, smiley Baekhyunwith his sugar ass and too tight leather pants, came to cry on Chanyeol’s doorbegging for a place to stay, Chanyeol simply thought that karma had finally decided to pay him a visit, giving him a chance to act on the ominous, terrible crush he’s always nurtured towards the slightly older guy. When Chanyeol let Baekhyun enter, allowing him to share his apartment, his toothbrush glass in the bathroom, his cereals box, his underwear drawer and ultimately his bed, he would’ve never imagined that no less than three weeks later he would’ve found himself engaged, more whipped than cream and ready to shed his pants at Baekhyun’s mere whisper of, “Come here tiger!”
He thought things could have progressed more slowly. A couple of dates, romantic walks under the moonlight, holding hands under the table of the coffee shop for a few months at least, because Chanyeol is an old school romantic… He hadn’t calculated the Baekhyun factor, that variable BBH that slammed the other boy upon the skies right onto him, like a hurricane, like a disaster waiting to happen.
Chanyeol was used to hog all the control for himself – this terribly unhealthy attitude is what brought him to pursue the position of administrator of the apartment block, by the way, and every time he looks at the tag saying Administrator in golden, elegant letters his heart takes a leap of joy and pride. He worked well with schedules and limits and fences to keep everything neat and in order in the pretty little garden of his existence. That’s it, until Baekhyun came and set fire to the garden. And Chanyeol’s clothes. And his dick. Especially his dick lately always feels like it’s on fire and Chanyeol is afraid it’ll fall off if he and Baekhyun don’t get out of the honeymoon phase soon.
Baekhyun is extremely cute, and sexy, and handsome, and adorable, and skilled in bed and… obnoxious. He’s the worst roommate ever. He throws his clothes to the ground in messy piles and always makes sure Chanyeol’s clothes join them on the floor, the dirty floor he should’ve cleaned but that he forgot to clean in favor of trying to make pancakes and almost destroying the kitchen. When Chanyeol tries to get past him and tidy up the room – he should at least fold the clothes before laying them on the chair – Baekhyun falls on his knees and sucks him, smirking around hic cock, practicing deep throating and pouting around the head of Chanyeol’s erection when he finds out he still can’t take Chanyeol all the way in.
Baekhyun always votes to do the dishes later and Chanyeol has learnt to stop trying to clean them himself because it annoys Baekhyun to a great extent when Chanyeol is too busy doing the chores to cuddle with him in front of Immortal Song 2, and an annoyed Baekhyun who’s not monopolizing all of Chanyeol’s attention is also an exhibitionist Baekhyun whose only purpose in life is get Chanyeol who watch at him only. He’s also very good at keeping Chanyeol’s eyes glued to his body because when Chanyeol tries to do the dishes Baekhyun spreads himself on the kitchen table like dessert and begins fingering himself in earnest, moaning loudly just for the sheer pleasure of making Chanyeol blush madly and give Zitao of the third floor something to gossip about with his neighbor-next-door Kyungsoo. Chanyeol has long stopped being surprised of the venomous stares he receives from both the residents of the third floor whenever they have a chair meeting between the residents of the block.
But, to continue with the list of reasons why Baekhyun is the worst flatmate ever, he always squeezes the toothpaste from the middle, he never cleans the toilet and whenever he takes a bath he always, always, floods the entire house with water and bubbles.
“That’s not… entirely… my fault,” croons Baekhyun, forcing the words to get out of his mouth even as he’s breathless and panting harshly. “You’re the one who insists on fucking me inside the batht-”
The last words are pronounced in a rush and he has to bite his lips to keep sounds from escaping as Chanyeol’s fingers, two of them, crooks inside of him, rubbing teasingly so close to his prostate but barely gracing it. It’s not a mistake, of course, Chanyeol knows very well where Baekhyun’s prostate is. He could find with his eyes closed and his hands tied but that would mean he’d have to use his tongue and Baekhyun would enjoy it way too much. This is punishment, not a prize.
“I’m not the one who insists on bathing together, though, nor I’m the one who jumps on your lap and wiggles, nor I’m the one who bounces on your dick splashing water everywhere so allow me to count flooding the house between the bad, bad things you’ve done, Baekhyun.”
This time he presses with his index, flat on Baekhyun’s prostate, keeping him there even when Baekhyun keens and trashes, torn between scooting back, away from the scorching sensation burning in his belly, and canting his hips up, to get more and more of Chanyeol.
“I want to play a game with you, Baekhyun, we will now check how many times you’ve forgotten to do your chores this week, which is… six times,” he concludes brightly, after a rapid look at the chores schedule. His finger is still pressing relentlessly inside Baekhyun, making him whimper softly from the oversensitivity. When Baekhyun tries to get away, Chanyeol’s other hand hooks around his hip and drags him back into the fingers hooked inside him, his legs spreading even more.
“Now you get to decide,” he blows softly against Baekhyun’s neck, licking the salty sweat right from Baekhyun’s pulse, biting softly as he pumps two fingers inside him. “You can either choose to come six times…” He pauses to admire Baekhyun going pale, all the color drained from his face at Chanyeol’s words. There’s no way he can come six times, he shakes his head.
“…Or I can bring you on the edge for six times, and for six times I block your orgasm. What do you say?”
If Baekhyun was pale before, now he’s positively grey. Chanyeol doesn’t give him the time to think about it, he just takes his fingers, all sticky from the lube, only to add more lubricant and push inside again, one, two, three fingers – he could do four, but he’s less precise with four fingers. Four fingers is for stretching and filling Baekhyun until he’s so full he thinks he’s going to explode. Three fingers is for the surgical job of teasing him to the brink of insanity while he admires the hypnotizing show of Baekhyun’s crack sucking his digits in.
Baekhyun was already too worked up, too tense, too breathless, and it doesn’t take long at all for Chanyeol to recognize the signs of his release in the clenching and unclenching of his muscle, the way his fingers tear at the sheets and his teeth tug at his lips, in his loud, lewd cries.
And this is something they don’t do too often, he either fucks Baekhyun vanilla or he lets Baekhyun fuck him, three times in a row, until they both can’t feel their legs and Chanyeol goes to sleep feeling dirty and gross and like the happiest man in the world. He likes those times too, when Baekhyun takes him in the mess he has created, over the floor, on a carpet made of their undone clothes, when Baekhyun turns him on so much that he can’t help but spill his load over the shirt he was supposed to wear at the chair meeting of the block. This is something unusual for them, him taking control over Baekhyun like this, making him gasp, making his back curve so much it leaves the floor in its haste to chase the pleasure.
“So, what do you say Baekhyun? What punishment do you choose? Overstimulation or orgasm denial?”
Baekhyun’s are glazed, burning and burnt. His entire skin looks like it’s on fire, as red has spread everywhere on his ribs, around his nipples, over his neck and on his cheekbones and ears. He’s seconds away from coming and minutes away from begging Chanyeol, whatever punishment he chooses in the end. His eyes glow and he smiles at Chanyeol. This will be a long night.
