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i melted.

𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

hwang intak x gn!reader

1k words, hurt/comfort, soft things, mentions of anxiety/being overwhelmed, mentions of discomfort around family members, head kiss, intimacy

a/n: requests now closed! *sighs* i love him 🙁 thank you to the anon who requested this! hope this brings u comfort <3

He found you perched on the curbside outside the restaurant, the sounds of merriment muffled as the front door closed behind him. You glanced up from your phone to watch him take a seat beside you, his head tucked into a black beanie and hands coming out of his jacket pockets to rest behind him.

"I saw you leave a few minutes ago, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to be alone or not," Hwang Intak murmured and tilted his head in your direction, eyes glued to the establishment across the street to watch people pass by the window. "I'm okay, here, right? I can leave if you don't want me here."

You notched your phone off and set it under your thigh. "No, it's okay," you said, drawing circles on the street. "I just… couldn't stand being around them for too long."

He looked at you now, dark, round eyes really looking at you. Your posture was off, your hair covered your face. Everything about tonight was so off, and he was hitting himself in the head for not seeing it sooner. "I didn't know you were so uncomfortable around your relatives."

You had invited Intak to come to a holiday gathering with your family this evening. They had booked out the mom and pop shop on Main Street that served a taste of home. You'd originally been nervous about inviting him, since the two of you only recently became an item, but you should have never doubted him. Your family seemed to love him anyways, but then again, they always did seem to adore everyone but you. There was always something to complain about.

"Yeah, I mean…" you swallowed. You suddenly found it hard to look him in the eyes. Maybe you were embarrassed. Didn't he say he had a good relationship with his family and relatives? "They're just a little much for me sometimes and I get a little overwhelmed. I'm sure they mean well and stuff but I can't—sometimes I can only handle being around them in small doses."

Intak was quiet for a moment as he considered this, a frown flitting over his pretty features.

You covered your knees with your palms. "I'm sorry I pretty much ditched you, by the way," you added with a grimace. "That wasn't very cool of me."

"It's okay; you needed some air, and I get that."

He had said it so simply that you were almost stunned. He was being so understanding about this, and yet, you still felt awful. Here he was, someone you envisioned to be near perfect, and here you were… You cleared your throat, eyes pinned to the ground. "Thanks for being here tonight. I know it must have been intimidating to meet my entire extended family in one night."

He gave a warm chuckle that enveloped your body in an audible hug. "No worries, honey. I was actually really excited to just, I dunno, hang out with you for a holiday that was important to you."

Your heart soared, and you turned your head to look at him.

Intak pressed his lips into a smile. "And it doesn't matter if we're in there or out here—I get the overwhelming part, I really do. We can take it at your pace."

The two of you shared a smile. The cliché was always that actions spoke louder than words, and he had just wielded both of them in emphasizing his respect and consideration for you. It was Intak who was making your jitters decrease and your worries lessen. You suddenly focused less on trying to drown out the sounds of people in the building behind you, and instead, on the boy next to you.

When you sat in a moment of silence, you saw his hand inch towards yours on the pavement out of the corner of your eye. Your lips curled upwards in a small smile as you angled your fingers to touch his.

Your eyes met again. "It's okay to hold my hand, you know. I won't break."

His smile was bashful as he laced your fingers together with his and tested your interwoven hands on the sidewalk. He scooted over to you and you met him in the middle, until you could set your hands on your knees, legs and arms pressed together. "You know that I won't judge you for your hardships, whatever they are," he said to you, setting his free palm over your hands to warm them.

"I know," you whispered. You knocked your head against his shoulder affectionately, and he patted your hands in acknowledgment. "I just never know what to do with all of this anxiety and I've never really met anyone who I could trust with them."

Intak took his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'm sorry you've ever felt that way."

"You don't need to apologize. It's not your fault."

"I hope I never make you feel this way, if I can help it," he said to you with a slight pout. "We can learn how to take on your anxieties together, maybe?"

A smile wormed itself onto your face and you leaned your head on his shoulder now. "Stop being so cool."

He laughed, the sound soft, yet brighter than the lights from the surrounding restaurants. "I just care about you." His words warmed you again, and you felt his lips press against the crown of your head.

"I know," you said quietly. "I care about you, too. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," he hummed. "Know any good dessert places around here? We can get ice cream and then come back in time to say goodbye?"

It was like he was a mind-reader. You made a comment about a favorite gelato place just down the block, and the two of you wasted no time in dusting your pants and setting off down the street. He never let go of your hand—only letting the pair swing between your bodies as he made you smile again and again and again.

p1h m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @kaaimins @shakalakaboomboo @bless-311 @leaz-kpop-life @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @haechansbbg @kflixnet @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist

jesus. i need him so bad. fuck 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

i want to ride seungmin’s thighs so bad like ughhh he’s so perfect and cute and im gonna explode into a million pieces

you and me both friend </3 i feel like he’d tease sooo much fkdjkf

seungmin just finished performing. you’re watching him carefully as he walks off the stage and towards where you’re watching from the wings. he’s wearing sinfully tight leather pants and you know you should be more focused on his actual performance, but all you can think about is riding his thigh. in the pants, bare, whatever. either. 

you just want him. 

and he’s observant—he clocks the way your eyes linger on his thighs pretty much immediately. a lazy smirk spreads across his lips. he pulls you with him into an empty dressing room and locks the door. he sits on a couch in the corner of the room. his gaze on you is dangerous. 

he spreads his legs and dips his chin toward his thigh. “go on, then. saw you eyeing me up. i know what you want.”

“really?” your eyes widen and you’re quick to straddle one of his thighs. “you’ll let me?” 

“you’ve been good, haven’t you?” he laughs when you nod eagerly and his hands find your hips. “besides, you know better than anyone how horny i get after a really good performance.”

you whine a little as you start to rock your hips against his leg. you’re both still fully clothed and it makes you feel kind of like a horny teenager, but it’s seungmin so you don’t even care that much. he groans a little at the noises you’re making and tenses his thigh. he won’t say it out loud (that often) but he likes to make sure it’s perfect for you. getting off doesn’t matter to him if you’re not having fun too. 

“minnie,” you gasp. “feels good. was thinking about this the entire time you were performing—”

“were you? dirty girl. couldn’t even focus on my dancing, you were too busy fantasizing about my thighs.”

“‘m sorry, i—”

“it’s okay baby,” he chuckles, helping you move faster over his thigh. “you’re gonna make it up to me by cumming like this.” 

you shake your head but don’t stop. “i don’t—i don’t know if i can. ‘s not enough—”

“it’s not?” he speaks so condescendingly. it’s so hot. “but this is what you wanted isn’t it?”

“y-yeah, but—”

“so then, you’ll cum like this. if you don’t, you won’t get my cock.”

you moan and bury your face in his neck, hips working furiously against him. “no. n-no please, minnie. i need it. need you.” 

“then listen to me. be a good girl and cum for me. then i’ll give you more.” 

you cum.

Whenever I think of Han it always goes back to that tiny ass waist of his, why is so grabbable but I'm not allowed to grab it??? Unfair... 😫 Basically I just wanna hold him to me by his waist and jerk him off with my other hand😊 please just one chance

no because i know this man knows the effect he has on you (and all of us) whenever he puts on clothes that accentuate his tiny, tiny waist. tight short-sleeves? sheer tops? loosely knitted sweaters? sign him UP.

jisung always wears them around you in hopes of making you lose your mind, in hopes of feeling your hands creep under the fabric and fondle the skin of his delicate waist whenever he's near you. and you always do.

you never miss the chance to place your hands there, to massage and run your hands over his soft stomach and hips and waist. and their smoothness never fails to make you horny, to wet your underwear with your own arousal in seconds.

and it takes you even less to sneak behind him on the couch as you watch a movie, grab his tiny, perfect waist, and bury your hands inside his pants.

“f-fuck”

all jisung can do is whine your name as you suck sweet little lovebites all over his neck, one hand tightly holding him at the jaist and the other jerking his already red, throbbing cock off.

you shiver at his whimpers, at his shakey breaths next to your ear when you run your thumb over his slit. the movie playing on the TV is long fogotten, its noises being covered by jisung's sweet sounds as you run your hand over his stomach, chest, nipples, just to slide back down to his waist when he starts moving and wiggling a little too much for your liking.

or, when you're having a shower together later in the evening. spreading bodywash all over his body almost always ends up with your hand on his dick, and the other squeezing his waist, and this time is no different. you look at jisung's scrunched up face in pleasure as you jerk him off in the shower, this time though, facing each other. you love staring at his handsome face falling apart because of you.

“stay still for me, hm? let me make you feel good.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @maximumkillshot @caitlyn98s

i think kim seungmin should do his part for the delulu agenda and cover perfect by ed sheeran. get me jyp on the phone

Hate You So

prince!bangchan x fem!reader

MDNI 18+, fantasy au, enemies-to-lovers (kinda), oral (f!), cum swapping, brief overstim (f!), biting, brief thigh humping

ask here! notes: I am not taking requests, however, I am interested in this one with my own version ofc

3.2k words

There is never a dull moment with Prince Chan. His words are belittling, his eyes are full of scorn when he looks at you in all his ruthless beauty. Sometimes you wish you could ignore his piercing gaze, but he bores his eyes into the back of your head so harshly you feel it burning.

Even without his hatred, it would be hard to turn away from him. With full lips, plump cheeks, and strong nose, it really is hard to think of him as anything below attractive. Still, you know better than to approach him unless you wish to cry yourself to sleep that night.

A masked ball is the perfect opportunity for you to slip away. Pretend to be someone you're not, or perhaps it's to show your true self behind a false face. Not that it matters. A night like this allows you to put the puzzling hatred the prince has for you far behind your mind.

Drink after drink, spin after spin and you find yourself in the arms of the Viscount Felix. You can tell it's him from the way he adorns himself in jewelry, his hair the color of the sun itself. His deep blue robe stitched with silver treading in layers. It must be difficult to dance in heavy clothes, but he twirls you in his arms easily.

"Ah, isn't it the beautiful Duchess," he regards you with a sly smirk. His eyes peek out from his silver mask underneath.

You narrow your eyes, though you doubt he can see much of your facial expressions from your black mask. "How did you know?" To this, Felix's smirk widens to a smile. "Even behind such a clever guise, your charm seeps through the fabric."

You mock the sound of laughter. "Is this a trick of flattery to get my hand in marriage? To help you rise higher than a Viscount?"

Felix's eyes gleam with mischief. "You think too highly of yourself, dear Duchess. I simply wish to lay in your bed."

Now you laugh. Your voice is swallowed from the sounds of heels clicking on the ground and loud chatter. The two of you dance steadily despite the liquor running in your veins. Felix is careful not to spin you too fast or dip you too low. He may speak vulgar, but he is every bit gentleman in every other way.

"I think I'd like that very much, if I'm to be truthful," you say once you're swaying evenly in his hold. "I can't recall the last time I've been properly loved." Felix makes a sound of understanding, eyes darting to the people around you.

It's improper of you to speak in such a way. You are of high status, and talking like this not only in public, but to someone of lower ranking is foolish. Still, it's this potty mouth that gives you and Felix such a close bond. The fact that you can speak freely without judgment.

Chris does not share your sentiment.

He can hear your crass words from where he dances with his own partner. It sickens him to know that you openly express lustful desires, but it disturbs him even more that he finds himself jealous.

His partner is speaking, but he doesn't pay attention to any words she says. He strains his ears to eavesdrop on the conversation with you and the brightly hair-colored Viscount.

"Is that so?" Chris hears the deep voice of the man dancing with you. "Sounds like that is quite the problem. Has no one caught your eye? Do you think no one is worthy of seeing your wholeness?"

You react as if you tire of your dancing partner, rolling your eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. The person I have my eye on would rather see me burn, that's all." The smile on your lips falter. Despite his better self, Chris wonders who would turn down such an opportunity to spend a night with you. What a foolish man.

"And pry tell, who is this person?" Felix speaks as though he read Chris's mind.

"The Prince."

Ah, that makes sense. Chris can't count the amount of times he's upset you, the times he's spewed swears cruel enough to make your eyes water. He brushed it off as you being too sensitive, too emotional. But he knows deep down, it's so he doesn't get close to you.

Felix's eyes widen and his jaw drops. He looks at you with alarm, and some fear, then he hisses under his breath. "I am not one to tell you what to do and how to speak, but I highly suggest you refrain from speaking ill about the royal blood in their own castle."

He has a point, it's treason to speak how you are now. But the alcohol makes not only your thoughts, but your words careless. "So then tell me, what do you suggest? I tire of my lonely state. I think I'm up for any suggestions you have."

Before Felix answers, his eyes dance around the room one last time to spot any itching ears. Chris, despite being a prince, turns his head to finally acknowledge his partner and try to pick up on the conversation. Once Felix determines there are no listeners, he says, "Perhaps you should lure the prince into your sheets. You say you want love, but I argue hate is a much more fun way to spend the night."

A wicked smile finds its way to Felix's lips that you can't help but match. "Now look who's speaking ill" you say. "Plus, that's a terrible idea. I will regret it in the morning."

To this, Felix shrugs. "Then let him make sweet hate to you past sunrise."

☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎

Chris should know his luck is thin. Only the universe would have him push you away so much so only for you to want him with the same intensity. It mocks him even now as you stand outside of his chambers when he wanted to get away from you as far as possible.

"Did you follow me here?" He questions you with authority. You swoop into a deep curtsy and bow your head, "Yes, your majesty."

You don't have to look up to know he's sneering at you, lips pulled back into a snarl. Felix, along with the bitter alcohol, gave you too much confidence. Sure you may not be of low status, but standing before a prince unnerves you.

Especially when you followed him with intentions.

"If you want me to ask why, you will be disappointed. Leave me." Chris looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to take those steps back. You never do, however, but instead pick your head up and stride deeper into his room, shutting the door.

His eyebrows furrow and a blush crawls its way up his neck. Chris tries to mask his surprise with anger. "Stupid wrench. Can you not listen to simple instructions?" His eyes that are filled with anger slowly dissipates when he sees you reel back at his words.

You fiddle with your hands nervously and you suddenly feel as though you cannot do this at all. How are you, a duchess, supposed to ensnare a prince who hates you so? Doubt clogs your mind, but you are already here. It would be far too shameful to turn away without even trying.

"Why do you hate me so?" That's not what you were supposed to say. You were supposed to sound flirtatious, experienced. Instead, you're meek and quiet. For a moment you doubt the prince even heard you, but the disheartened look in his eyes says otherwise.

He sighs, running his jeweled fingers in his brown hair. A prince is to never be vulnerable, to show weakness in fear of exploitation. In the presence of your teary eyes, however, none of that seems to matter.

Chris takes a deep breath, "I hate you for many things."

Your jaw drops. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. A foolish part of you thought maybe it was a misunderstanding, but there's no time to reply when the prince carries on.

"I hate that I think about you every hour of everyday. I hate that you live freely while I have to act accordingly." He takes a step to you. "I hate how you look at me with those hidden eyes. I hate it even more that I know it's you underneath that plain mask." Chris is close enough to reach for your face and he does just that. Gentle fingers undo the knot that keeps your mask on and he lets it fall to the ground.

"I hate that I know your voice, that I ache to hear it. I hate that I know in which way you walk, should you be in my castle." His fingertips ghost over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I hate that I dream of you and I hate when I wake from those dreams."

Chris traces the outline of your lips, watching how your tongue darts out to taste his fingers. He shudders.

"Worst of all," he leans close to your face, a kiss away from you. "I hate that it's only for one night that I will be yours."

You don't kiss him back at first. You can't even register his plush lips on yours. How they move steadily, sickly sweet. The prince tastes faintly of alcohol, but not enough to overpower his kiss. You come back to when his hands find your waist, pressing you closer to his warm body.

A part of you thinks maybe this is a test. That when you begin moving your mouth with his, he'd pull away and laugh. Chris doesn't do that though and instead groans against your lips when you finally reciprocate.

Shaky hands find their way to his styled hair, tugging on his curls to bring him closer. It doesn't take long before you're both chest to chest, one of his legs between yours as you stand, and breathing into each other's mouths. His kiss is bruising, filled with the overwhelming desire he claims to hate.

Chris nips on your lower lip, pulling it back harshly to hear you whimper. Then he kisses you again, messily sliding his tongue against yours. His lips travel down your cheek, your jawline, to your neck. You shiver at his warm tongue tasting your skin, hips rocking on his thigh.

The grip on your waist only tightens to keep pressure on you grinding on him. You feel him smile against your throat. "Humping me like a little bunny, aren't you?" He lifts his head to whisper in your ear, biting your earlobe. "Is my leg enough to satiate your lust?"

You shake your head, "N-no. It's not, my prince." Chris rewards your honesty by moving his hands from your waist. He lifts the many layers of your dress in bunches, holding them above your hips. You take the hint and grasp them in your own fingers, watching him descend lower...

...and lower... ...and lower...

The prince kneels before you, facing your core. You gasp, and despite dreaming about this with your hand underneath your nightgown, it's still an unbelievable sight. No royal blood is to kneel before another, let alone you of lower ranking.

"Prince Christopher!" You sound slightly panicked. "You mustn't! To kneel before...not even that! You must have drunken one too many glasses. I shouldn't have-"

You cut yourself off with a yelp. You feel Chris's teeth dig into the soft flesh of your thighs. He does it hard enough to see his teeth imprints when he pulls back. "You think of me drunk," he says it with accusation. "But how could I be drunk off wine when I could be drunk off this instead?"

Though you can't see him from the frills of the many layers of your dress, it helps ease your nerves when he hooks his finger under your panties. Your hips jolt when the cold air hits your bare cunt, but his warm breath quickly replaces it.

Chris trails kisses just next to your core, his hands planted on each thigh. His fingers makes shapeless figures, dancing closer to where you throb just before pulling away. It's bearable it first, his teasing. But then you start to feel yourself dripping, arousal seeping from your folds. His lips ghost over your clit, moving to the next thigh.

You tremble, trying to move your hips so his mouth catches your pussy. You're met with a chuckle, deep and quiet. It makes you more impatient, whining. "My prince please. I cannot bear it."

The prince pulls away from you completely, leaning back to look up at you. He looks silly beneath where you stand. His mouth red and curls messy from your earlier tugging, but his wet lips are frowning. "Are you, a duchess, telling me, a prince, what to do?"

Shit, you got too comfortable. "Of course not," your voice wavers. From fear or lust, you're not sure. "I didn't mean to offend you, I just-"

"You're quite the nervous talker, aren't you?" Chris's once pouting lips turn into a smirk. His observation makes you blush, though you're sure your face was already a deep shade of red since the beginning.

He smiles at your reaction, teeth gleaming in the candlelit room. "No need to fret, pretty duchess. I told you that tonight I am yours. If my mouth on you is what you desire, then so be it."

You watch as Chris dives forward to the empty space between your legs. His tongue darts out to taste you directly, going under your lower lips to collect your arousal. The warmth from his mouth makes you squeal, but his hands move to the back of your thighs to keep you in place.

It's hot, wet, and a little rough when he licks you. He trails his tongue upwards to rub soft circles on your nub before dipping back down. Chris moves his hands higher until they're under your hiked dress, gripping your arse. His fingers kneed into your soft flesh, forcing you deeper into his mouth.

There's a guttural moan that leaves him, sending waves through your cunt. Chris opts to suck on your flesh, pulling it only to let it go with a wet 'pop!' The sensation makes you shiver, legs buckling for a second before you regain your composure.

"This is..." the prince trails off. He buries his nose on your clit, sticking his tongue out to prod at your entrance. There's no doubt that the evidence of your shame is dripping from his chin, but he acts as though he doesn't mind. He hardly cares how your legs squeeze and how the hair on your pelvis tickles his face when he painfully pushes his face deeper into you.

This is divine.

You want nothing more than to grind on his face, hump on his tongue like the bunny he said you are. But your legs shake so much, your knees lock so often you see your vision go black for seconds. Finishing on the prince's face is something you could have only dreamt of. Yet here he is, seeming to eagerly coax a release from you. Surely he must be flushed himself, straining painfully in his trousers.

"P-Prince Christopher I- oh~ I'm so close. Do you want me to...should I..."

It's difficult to finish your sentence when you're so close to finishing in his warm mouth. You want to taste him how he's doing to you, you want to feel how his length would stretch you out. He must feel the same way, he has to.

But he only shakes his head with your pussy still in his mouth. "You should cum," he says breathlessly. "Let me taste this, drink you in. I've never had a cunt as pretty as yours."

Hot kisses rapidly peck on your clit. The prince spits messily on your already wet core, but he quickly spreads it all over your lips. Chris moves you up and down by your ass, encouraging you to ride his face. The idea of hesitating and passing the opportunity is behind you. You feel as though you might crush his head with the force of your legs, but he takes it all.

It makes sense why you're moaning, writhing under the tongue of the prince. But it makes you wonder why he's so loud himself. Groaning at your taste and whining when your hips shy away from his relentless mouth. You can hear him mumble mostly to himself. Mindlessly babbling soft words of praises.

"So good." "Pretty pussy." "Fuck. Ride my tongue, just like that."

Maybe he's trying to help get you to your high, but it makes you distantly wonder, nonetheless.

You whimper at the feeling of pleasure building in your stomach. It bundles and quivers until you drop the hem of your dress to reach down and grip Chris by the hair. He ignores how the layers surround him like blankets. You feel him gasp against your pussy when you slide your cunt up and down his face.

"S-sorry," you apologize pathetically. "Close. Wanna cum- fuck! wanna cum. Please forgive me." You mewl more apologies before vibrating with pleasure. Chris can't protest as you finish on his tongue, and he seems to rather like it with the way his blunt fingernails stab into the skin of your bottom.

You keep him there on your cunt as your body trembles with aftershocks from your orgasm. The prince obediently licks you throughout it all, collection your cream before loudly gulping it down. Your shaky hands finally release him from your grip, but Chris is persistent on giving your quivering clit final kisses.

Even if you try to move your hips from his mouth, he keeps you in place. "Your majesty," you struggle to find your voice from how much you were moaning. "Please. It's so sensitive."

He licks a fat stripe along your pussy to hear you cry out one final time. "You ask for me to taste you. You practically beg for me to let you finish on my tongue and when I do, you tell me to stop. Tell me, duchess, what is it that you want from me exactly?"

It's a simple question that has a simple answer, yet, saying it would bring complicated issues you know neither of you are able to face.

You. The word is on the tip of your tongue, but you settle for saying, "T-to please you, if you'll have me." It's close enough to what you actually want.

Chris finally brings himself to his feet, reaching for your fallen mask on his way up. He hands you the fabric, but you're so distracted with his face that you gasp.

He's soaked in your juices, his face glistens in the rising moonlight coming from his window. It's almost offensive to look at, reminding you of how you lost yourself so easily.

The prince only smiles at your words, your shocked expression. "Don't worry about my pleasure, pretty duchess." He leans in to kiss you, eyes fluttering closed upon impact. You can taste yourself on him, the bitter flavor settling on your tongue and invading your senses. It brings a new wave of desire, of an aching want.

"There," he gives you a dazzling smile when he pulls away. A string of saliva mixed with your arousal connect your lips. "Have a taste of yourself instead."