“That’s you, and there’s no one who won’t love you because there’s a different you. I like you a ton, I love you, I want to pat you on the back and I wanted to embrace you just one more time.That’s what I was able to do but I hate myself for regretting it like this after losing the opportunity. I’m so sad, it’s so wasteful, our precious Jonghyunnie. If I call and say your name, I feel like you’ll say “Yeah!” in a high tone, I miss you a lot, our Jonghyunnie.
I’m sorry noona couldn’t hug you a lot, I’m sorry, I love you and thank you. I remember you saying that you wrote “Lonely” thinking of noona and all that process. We are similar. We resemble each other. We know those feelings.
Kim Jonghyun, who is the most unique, cool and incredible artist in my life, I really miss you a lot and I want to hold your hand. Jonghyun-ah, you are the best. You really worked hard
I’ll make sure you’re not lonely.”
started with an accident. Just a coincidence. You were at the wrong place at
the wrong time. Or was it the right place and the right time? You are just
walking down the street after buying something at the grocery store when a
person dressed in all black brushes past you, ripping the plastic bag from your
fingers and spilling its contents all over the street. The person stops
abruptly and looks at you- and that’s a big mistake. Heavy footsteps are behind
you and you turn around to see who is apparently following him since he seems
to be running from someone, when you suddenly feel an arm wrap around your neck
and the cold metal of a gun pressing against your temple. Your pulse speeds up as
you look at two young, beautiful men. Almond eyes, one of them has dark hair
and one of them bleached blond hair. They are slim but don’t look fragile at
all in their black dress shirts and matching pants. “Oh come on” the blond one
says and cracks his knuckles “Pulling an innocent bystander into this? You know
Mr. Bang won’t like this” he says and pulls out a shiny black pistol. The other
man has a fox like face with a sharp jawline and his eyes are clear and his
hand is silently hovering over his pocket where you could see the shape of
another gun. The street is empty and you are currently in a relatively bad
neighborhood so even if you would scream people would probably just ignore it.
“Let this poor girl go and you will make it out of this alive. . maybe.” The
blond says and aims his gun at you. . Or the person behind you. You aren’t
quite sure. When the man behind you doesn’t let you go you hear a sigh and then
a loud bang followed by a sharp pain in your ankle and the hand around your
neck is gone immediately “Well done Dae you hit her.” You hear another voice
say. It has to be the brown haired man. You fall to your knees and look at your
ankle. There is blood. So. So much blood. You feel black creep in on you vision
but try to fight it – Unfortunately you aren’t strong enough and you feel your
body go limp before the darkness consumes you.
Appreciate all the artists and give congratulations to those that have been able to represent kpop in a big way. It’s not only helping them, but also all the other groups as more people find out about them and support them 😊😊
“Dude, come on! It’s after ten. The
rent-a-cops have disappeared until midnight. I want to take a selfie with that
giant fucking pigeon before we head to the party.”
Junhong rolls his eyes at your request as
he pulls his apartment door and shoves his keys in his backpack. “Why the hell
is there a giant pigeon statue on campus, anyway? I get that they needed the
new art building, it’s really nice in there, by the way, but that statue’s
“It’s terrifying,” you laugh as you drop
your board to the asphalt and wait for Junhong to do the same. “But it’s quirk
and weird and it’ll get some likes on Instagram. So, you know, doing it for the
Waking up in the middle of the
night to find your bed empty was not a new occurrence for you. There were many
nights where you went to bed, Yongguk by your side, only to find him missing a
few hours later. This was a sort of compromise for the two of you. So long as
he was by your side when you went to bed and you woke up to his presence in the
mornings, he was free to do as he pleased whenever he couldn’t sleep. You knew
that when you moved in together he’d spend more time in the spare room he’d
converted into a makeshift studio than he would in your bedroom and you
promised him that you would be alright with that.
So long as he promised that he
would take better care of himself and of his health.
But Yongguk, as much as he was
a man of his word, had a bad habit of overworking himself. He was his own worst
critic, his harshest judge, and he couldn’t sleep until every little thing was
perfect. The group had been doing fine before the lawsuit, they’d been gaining
popularity steadily and had a rapidly growing fan base. They’d even won their
first number one.
◇ A queen must always prepared to do anything she needed to do in order to keep her kingdom thriving and growing. Anything.
◇ Himchan x reader x Yongguk
◇ mafia!au / crime!au
◇ requested by @smutfictionaddicted / @writings-by-cl; Hey Ali, so glad your requests are open! Can I please request some Himcham and/or Yongguk (BAP) smut (can have other story genres and any plot you want)? If possible (optional) could the OC be plus size (don’t need to, tho)? I’ll understand if you won’t accept this request, it’s kind of specific… Thanks so much, have a lovely day/night! Love, CL 💋 (from @smutfictionaddicted) PS: love your blog so much!
◇ aaaaaaaaaaa omg thank you for requesting bc im such a big fan and youre so cute im???? This was an honour tbh i hope i did this request justice… also, so no one’s confused; basically people think the mayor rules the whole city but the mayor and his people are corrupt and basically the whole city belongs to reader, himchan and yongguk — he only controls a tiny area — but no one knows.
You woke up early, surrounded by lavish Egyptian cotton sheets and the scent of fresh lavender. The sun was high in the sky, the sound of birds chirping managing to reach you through your French balcony doors on the 98th floor of the most prestigious apartment block in the whole city.
The First Sector was only beginning to wake at the time, but already the streets were beginning to fill with people and taxis. Not as much as the central city, you were sure, because work never full started around here until 9.
A fluffy bathrobe was slipped over your full figure, the marble floors cold against your perfectly manicured toes as you patter to the bathroom and begin to fill a bath of crystal water and pearlescent bubbles. You were glad to have woken earlier than you usually did; maybe you’d have time for a walk or a coffee shop breakfast before you were rushed to work. It would be nice to relax today — especially because of the events that were to take place tonight.
The only sound heard throughout your apartment is the slump of your bathrobe into a fluffy heap on the floor, looking not unlike the cotton ball clouds outside your window. Carefully, you place one leg into the bath to test the water, and seeing as the temperature was just right, you fully submerge yourself in the warm water, letting your eyes flutter shut in relaxation.
Only a minute later does the silence get stiffling, and you reach a hand over to the wall to search for a song in the built in speaker system. Your breath comes out in a satisfied sigh as one of your favorites begins to play, the hum of violins and tinkering of piano letting your worries trickle from your brain.
Autumn had always been your favourite season. Whether it was fashion-wise, or simply the atmosphere (there was always an air of excitement, and paired with the sunset shades of leaves falling from the trees and the permanent smell of bonfires in the air, it always calmed the most negative of moods), you didn’t know.
You inhale deeply, burrowing your hands deeper into the pockets of your coat. Your breath forms a swirling cloud of heat in front of you, and the child in you continues to exhale heavily to create more. The First Sector is almost fully functioning by now; there are cars everywhere and people bustling on the streets, all dressed fashionably as they pass between designer store to designer store.
You enter a Starbucks on the main street, the comforting smell of coffee and sugar invading your nose and almost instantly making you happier. It had been a while since you had had enough time to yourself to actually sit in a cafè and have a cappuccino or a slice of cake. It was all worth it though, you guess, watching as a small child and his mother walk in, the child smiling brightly and looking over the delicious cases of dessert displayed in front of him. The people deserved it.
You sigh, turning your head and peering out the window beside your table. Passed the main road sat the park, and from your seat you could see the playground; a shock of blues, reds and greens in an orangey-brown pool of colour. A child runs from the end of the slide to the start again, and even from where you were positioned you could see the joyful grin on her face.
She laughs as she slides down the slide once again, but instead of running once again to the beginning, she runs into the arms of a man who you can only guess is her father. She’s swung around, and then hugged tightly before she’s placed on the ground again.
What would it be like, you wonder in amusement, wistfulness creeping up on the tone of the voice in your head, to be so blissfully ignorant? To spend your days living in the best part of the city with the only responsibilities being paying rent and putting food on the table?
With a tired sigh, you turn your gaze from the window and back to the coffee in front of you. Thinking like that is dangerous in your line of work — thinking like that has gotten people killed.
But, you add quietly, as if someone could hear your thoughts, if only they knew about the dirty work that was put towards keeping their home squeaky clean.
The walk to your workplace is shorter than you’d like, but you figure it’s because you’re well aware that the freedom you’d experienced this morning was never going to reappear any time soon.
Your building is on the main street of the First Sector; situated between a bank and the main road, made of glass and metal that formed a modern yet elegant frame. You operated under the cover of a shell company called Boulevard, and to anyone who wasn’t well informed, they would think that the building belonged to a company that specialised in insurance.
Couldn’t be further from the truth, really.
When you enter the building you’re eternally grateful to have woken up early and to have been able to go and get a breath of fresh air; as soon as you enter you hole yourself up in your study and immerse yourself in the numerous papers and documents that needed looking over.
Your workload was increasing with every day, and only because of one decision. You ruled the First Sector, one of the four sectors of the city. The Mayor that had been elected by the people — being the more politically powerful of all 4 rulers — had decided to decrease your territory — for what, you had no idea, but it seemed to give people the idea that you must be too weak to control the large area you controlled. This just happened to be the sole reason for the event taking place tonight.
It was a pity that most people were unaware of your power. Maybe then, they wouldn’t be so stupid and get themselves killed.
It was exactly 3PM when one of your workers entered, dressed in suit and tie, as per usual. He stands in front of your desk, hands behind his back and eyes trained above you. He, like almost every person you employed, had learned how to respect you — you made every person you encountered aware of the power you held and the limits you would go to.
“Permission to take out Secretary Zhang, mistress.”
You inhale slowly, running his words over in your head. In a matter of seconds, you went over every consequence and award the killing of the Mayor’s secretary would present. This was your job — very few people could make the decisions you make and live to tell the tale.
On one hand, the Mayor’s secretary was the most conniving, devilish, twisting woman you’d come across this far into your life. She was slowly yet surely worming her way into the Mayor’s head, and quite frankly, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was really her calling the shots.
On the other hand, the Mayor was infatuated with her. Despite the fact that he was married, it was obvious that his relationship with his secretary wasn’t strictly platonic, and with the recent turn of events, her death would immediately be linked to you. But you take into account that the Mayor is more frightened of you than not, and that his personality is weak and easily persuaded.
“Accepted, and with pleasure,” you finally say, a smile tugging at your features. “And do be quick, would you?”
He bows his head. “Yes, mistress.”
And just like that, the decision is made and he’s gone. At least you’ve gotten Secretary Zhang out of your hair. You feel slightly more at ease as you go back to looking through documents and accepting or denying the requests of every worker that comes to see you.
Drug exchange, 3:37 today at Avensbrooke Burrow.
Intercept and arrest every soul at the scene. Deliver the produce to Yongguk — tell him to consider it a… gift. A gift towards upholding the peace.
Multiple stocks of arms and ammunition have been found, mistress.
Keep half. The other half goes to Himchan. Tell him that he doesn’t owe me this time, would you?
You only pull yourself away from your work when the sky begins to dim, fading from its bright, cerulean blue to an inky indigo, illuminated by the white windows and street lamps of light. The clock above your door reads 7:30, and you realise with a start that you have to get ready for the gala tonight.
It was a gala auction, technically. The richest people in the country would be coming from near and far to gamble their money for antiques and precious items — but of course, that was only the cover up. The gala auction was taking place, of course, but the most important and suspenseful event of the night happened behind closed doors, away from prying eyes and gossiping mouths.
So you pack up from the night, assigning some paperwork to a passing employee and making your way to your home again.
When you return home you’re immediately greeted by your maid-of-sorts; her name is Chaeyoung, and she’s the same age as you, and the only reason you hired her was because you’d seen her fashion sketches and she needed to get into college. She never really cleaned or cooked — even though, technically, that was her job — but she had become more than a maid to you, and you would happily call her your sister if need be.
“Go, go!” She shooed you into your room, pulling earrings and chokers out to accompany the dress laid out on your bed, “Did you have a bath today? Oh, of course you did, I can smell those fancy bath oils on you—”
You barely have time to breath properly before she’s shoving the dress into your arms, gesturing for you to slip it on while she finds you some shoes.
A flurry of outfit changes and an hour later, you’re in your completed attire; a sleek, red, sweetheart-neckline dress that reveals just a sliver of your skin through the slit on its side, gliding over the soft curves of your stomach and sides; a pair of black pumps with high, chunky heels; a golden choker embellished with diamonds and earrings to match. Your hair is pulled up out of your face, and the makeup is kept minimal. You didn’t need much to blow people away.
“You’re not gonna take anything?” Chaeyoung frowns as you slip your phone into the black clutch in your hand. “What, no knife? No gun? Not even pepper spray?”
“I don’t need weapons,” you answer with a sigh as you stand, texting your chauffeur to bring your car around the front. “I always have people watching, Chae. You should know that by now — saves me from getting my hands dirty.”
“I’ll be fine,” you smile gently, patting her head comfortingly. She walks with you to the door, a pout on her face. “You can stay the night, if you want — I’ll be back pretty late.”
She only nods, and you shoot her one last smile before you’re out the door, taking the elevator down to the sumptuous foyer and strutting out like you owned the place — which, coincidentally, you did. You didn’t offer the bell boy and the receptionist more than a delicate smirk; you were getting into character.
Your chauffeur greets you with a small nod, opening the door to the black Jaguar XJ and waiting for you to slip in before he shuts the door gracefully, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the car up.
The journey to the National Museum was smooth and quiet. Luckily, the meeting would take place in the First Sector, which calmed your nerves the tiniest bit — you would be familiar with your surroundings, and that made you even more compelling than usual.
You stared out the window as you were driven, taking in the empire that you built from the ground up. You remembered when this was the most run-down area of the whole city; but now, the buildings were tall and modern, lit by sparkling lights. The streets were clean and still very much busy, even at this time. And to think, you chuckle, the Mayor is trying to take that away from me. Over your dead body.
By the time you pull up outside the museum, you’re fully in character and prepared to do what you have to do. The chauffeur opens your door and waits patiently as you step outside, rolling your shoulders back and taking in the tall building before you. Numerous people, all dressed as highly as you are, are entering the building, some loitering outside to be caught by the paparazzi. You don’t bother with them.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” You exhale, before you begin to walk up the front steps of the museum.
The soft sound of classical music plays from the orchestra positioned beside the auction stage. It’s a lavish affair; waiters floating between the crowds with golden trays of white wine and champagne, the richest, most important people conversing between themselves, fake laughs and careful words, and, when they think nobody’s looking, a disdainful and narcissistic silent scoff at the person in front of them.
It isn’t hard to figure out where you’re supposed to be. You slip through the crowds, earning side glances and amazed stares and even appreciative looks at your body from the more… let’s say scandalous people present.
You take a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, not stopping your pace as you disappear from the throngs of people and into a less populated hallway to the left of the main venue. There are still a few stragglers, mainly drunk or seeking privacy — but as you delve deeper into the deserted museum, a few floors up from the ground, and there is no sign of anybody but yourself, you come across a room that’s guarded by two bulky men dressed in black. Himchan’s men, no doubt.
They say nothing as you take a small sip of your champagne, but as you come to a stop in front of them, the one on the left greets you with a deep bow and a murmur of, “Miss.”
The heavy ornate oak door is opened, revealing a room decorated with expensive antique furniture. The door is on the left side of the room, and opposite is a floor-to-ceiling window that gave a mind blowing view of your Sector — and standing in front of the window, taking in the view, were the men you were there to see.
“Boys,” you greet, a smirk painted on your lips as you bring your flute to them again. They turn slightly, drinking up your image. “Enjoying the view, I take it?”
“Of course,” Yongguk answers first, voice deep and smooth like usual. He takes a hold of one of your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of it, his dark hair flopping over his even darker hair.
“Beautiful as usual, ____,” Himchan comments, only placing a firm hand on your waist in greeting. His own glass of champagne is almost empty, and you suggest that they sit around the glass coffee table with you to fill up their glasses and discuss business.
“So,” Yongguk exhales, leaning backwards comfortably. His eyes focus on you, head tilted to the side as he takes his first drink of the alcohol in his glass, “You wanna tell me why I received multiple kilos of drugs at my HQ earlier?”
Himchan allows his lip to quirk up at the side, eyes lazily drifting over to you too. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to buy our cooperation, ____.”
You offer him a cheeky grin. “Never.”
“The multiple stocks of arms and ammunition delivered to my doorstep say otherwise, sweetheart.”
You don’t answer. You inhale, swirling the champagne in your glass before you stand, strolling back to the window. You hear the sound of their footsteps as they follow you; Himchan on your right, Yongguk on your left.
“Do you remember when I inherited the First Sector from my father?” You ask, the tone of your voice a mixture of nostalgic and serious. It was time for business.
“How could we forget?” Yongguk murmurs.
“You’ve come a long way,” Himchan adds quietly. You allow the ghost of a smile to spill over your lips.
“I built this place from the dirt up,” you agree, downing the last of your drink. “I made this place thrive. And now, the Mayor’s trying to take that away from me.”
Yongguk and Himchan show no reaction of surprise or immediate indignation, and you guess it’s because they’ve already been informed of your situation. Their eyes stay trained on the skyline.
“What do you need us to do?” Yongguk says a minute later, turning his body to face you. Himchan doesn’t object to his inclusion in the matter, and turns towards you too.
“I need support,” you answer, finally meeting their eyes. “The Mayor can’t deny anything I want when he’s against all three of us.”
Yongguk sighs, before he nods. “You have my full support, ____.”
Himchan remains silent, only giving his own nod in response as Yongguk finishes his drink and returns to the coffee table to refill, leaving you and Himchan alone.
“Now that business is over,” Himchan begins, a devilish smile tugging at his lips, “You don’t mind me complimenting you again, do you, sweetheart?”
“Not at all.”
“Because this dress—” he inhales, a hand looping around your waist and tugging you closer— “Is driving me crazy.” He bites his lip, his other hand travelling across the shape of your hips and the swell of your behind, drawing a shock of laughter from you.
“You know, Himchan,” you tease, drawing your lips closer to his neck, feeling his grip tighten on your waist, “I don’t think Yongguk or the National Museum would appreciate us fucking in this room.”
“I have a feeling that Yongguk wouldn’t particularly mind,” Himchan whispers as you draw back, lips inches apart — his words make you instinctively glance over to where the leader of the Second Sector is lounging; the dark eyes watching the pair of you makes you visibly shiver, and Himchan chuckles.
“Why don’t you go and keep him company?” Himchan suggests, voice a mere whisper in your ear. The assertive seductress in you is tugging the leash on your neck and telling you to not even move, but the breathy submissive that you had hidden deep inside of you was choosing the worst time to emerge.
You still manage to keep the sexiness in your stride as you saunter towards Yongguk, the smile growing on your face with every click of your heels against the floor.
“Ggukie,” you coo teasingly, watching as his jaw clenches and his brows knit together. The patronisation was purely to irritate him, because despite his job, it was well known that Bang Yongguk was a gentle soul. You didn’t need gentle tonight.
He sits back, drinking in your figure as you hike your dress up to your hips in order to straddle him easily. You can feel the heaviness of Himchan’s stare on you, on how Yongguk’s hands grasp your hips naturally — but Yongguk’s eyes are only on yours.
Slowly, just to wind him up, you draw your lips closer to his, feeling his breaths against your face before you finally close the gap between you two.
You’re uncertain, at first. You don’t know if you’ve made the right choice in doing this because the air has completely stilled and it feels as if years have passed before Yongguk moves his lips against yours, taking the lead straight away. A soft moan is drawn from your throat as Yongguk presses a hand to the back of your head, holding you against him so he can slip his tongue into your mouth.
You restrain a jump when you feel cold hands on your shoulders, goosebumps following every touch placed on your skin. Himchan’s hands brush appreciatively over the soft curves of your shoulders, down the expanse of your back until his fingers caught the zipper of your dress.
In the mean time, Yongguk must sense that you’re getting distracted by Himchan’s hands, and decides to avert your attention back to him by dropping a hand to squeeze at your thick thighs, veering towards the lacy fabric of your panties. Chaeyoung’s choice — you had scoffed at her for making you wear lingerie (even if it was only underwear), but you didn’t regret it now.
The cold air makes your skin tingle, and with every inch of skin revealed with the unzipping of your dress, you become more and more excited, impatient to get friction where you need it most. You tear your lips from Yongguk with difficulty, standing to slip the rest of your dress off — you hear a low whistle come from Yongguk, and the sharp inhalation of breath from behind you is an equally as good sign.
“Fuck,” Himchan mutters softly, pressing his chest against your back, snaking his arms to your front and drifting his hands from the soft bulge of your stomach to the roundness of your breasts. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, baby.”
“I know,” you answer cheekily, “But I can’t help but feel a little left out, you know. You’re both looking awfully overdressed.”
You drag yourself from his embrace and sit yourself opposite Yongguk, on an expensive piece of furniture that you’d surely be replacing for the museum tomorrow. “I’d appreciate if you’d both shed some?”
Yongguk shakes his head at your attitude but he contradicts his actions with the smile on his face, standing from the couch and throwing his suit jacket behind him. He barely unbuttons his shirt — only till his toned chest can clearly be seen — and busies himself with kneeling in front of you, dragging his thumbs over your knees and pressing kisses to your calves.
“Who would want to do that when you’re sitting here like this?” He raises an eyebrow, words muffled against your skin. In a matter of seconds, he’s grabbing your knees and pulling them apart, revealing your covered pussy. He doesn’t waste any time; your breath is wrenched from your lungs as he suddenly presses a hard thumb to your clit, pushing the lacy fabric into the bundle of nerves and using the underwear to his advantage.
He doesn’t stop you from rolling your hips against his touch, breathy pants filling the room and the pulsating burning in your lower stomach growing with every passing second. You almost can’t believe that Yongguk’s about to make you cum — and only from a finger on your clit through your underwear.
As if sensing your thoughts, he pushes your underwear aside so quickly you can barely register it; a swipe of his thumb at your entrance lubricates the digit enough for him to roll it against your clit, and as you sense your orgasm nearing you can’t help but bring a hand up to pinch and roll your nipple between your fingers. The collective sensations have you throwing your head back, your hips bucking and toes curling—
“Fuck, Ggukie—” Your gasp is cut short with the onslaught of pure white that your orgasm brings, pussy spasming and pulsating, hips rolling and riding you through the powerful sensation. Your breath is short and your eyebrows are furrowed and you’re sure that Yongguk’s ministrations have caused you to positively soak yourself with arousal — but you can’t bring yourself to care.
Your eyes only flutter open a minute later when the last shocks of your orgasm wear away, instinctively catching Yongguk’s eyes. He has the nerve to smirk before he stands, his thumb slipping into his mouth to taste your arousal.
“She taste good?” In the flurry of movement you had almost forgotten about Himchan. While you were busy with Yongguk he had shed his suit jacket, too, but had unbuttoned his shirt fully and now stood in front of you beside Yongguk, champagne lifted to his lips and hand in his pocket. With any two other people, you would’ve felt cornered, trapped — but you’ve grown strangely comfortable with the boys that their close proximity doesn’t bother you.
“Delicious,” Yongguk answers, eyes still on you. They don’t make any move to rejoin you on the couch, watching as your chest rises and falls with every breath you take. Impatience courses through you as another minute passes and they continue to admire your body.
“I’m getting tired of waiting,” you groan, throwing your head back. You loop your fingers through your underwear and begin to drag the offending lace down your smooth legs. “Somebody come and do something…”
Himchan exhales a small laugh, setting the glass he was finished with back on the coffee table, and sits himself beside you. A few pats on his lap is all it take for you to turn and straddle his hips, shivering at the feeling of his bulge pressing against your sensitive pussy.
In seconds, Himchan has undone his dress pants enough to remove his cock from his briefs; and, mouth almost watering, you’re quick to grasp him in your hands, your touch cold against the warmth of his cock and extracting a groan from the man’s mouth.
“I thought you were tired of waiting?” Himchan muses, though his eyes are focused on the movement of your hands up and down his length.
You allow a sound of agreement to fall passed your lips, shoulders shrugging before you decide to get to the main event — you raise your hips up, running the tip of his cock along your slit with a sigh of pleasure before you begin to sink down on him, your walls burning slightly with the stretch. It had been a while.
You’re clenching around Himchan uncontrollably when you bottom out. He’s more thick than he is long, and your breath has become heavy with the effort of not moaning out at the fullness.
“Come on,” he grunts softly, rocking his hips against yours to start your pace. He places a hand on your hip, the other squeezing your breasts, “Get going.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, you whine internally as you begin to move, alternating between slow, powerful grinds and short bounces but managing to keep a steady pace. The feeling of him sliding against your quivering walls, every inch of him sending your heart palpitating and mind fuzzy, was almost overpowering.
“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” Himchan groans, removing the hand from your breasts and making you cry out when it begins to rub erratically against your clit. “There we go…”
You don’t bother holding any sound back, then: every gasp, every pant and cry, every moan and groan and grunt and whine fills the room, fueling Himchan’s desire and making his mouth fill with similar grunts. Your fingers dig into the back of the armchair you’re sitting on, your eyes clenched shut.
But the sound of movement not coming from you or Himchan compels you to open your eyes, and you come face to face — or, well face to crotch — with Bang Yongguk.
You manage a tired yet devious smile. “F-feeling — a-ah! — left o-out?”
“I see the attitude never leaves,” Yongguk murmurs, unzipping his pants and removing his cock from his briefs. He begins to pump his length, only centimetres away from your mouth, running his thumb over the slit and smoothing his precum over the head — and then, when he decides you’re ready, he grabs your chin, steadying you enough to sink your mouth onto his cock.
You begin to grind your hips faster and faster, while simultaneously focusing on running your tongue on the underside of Yongguk’s cock, bringing a shaky hand up from the back of the armchair to pump the remainder of his length that you couldn’t swallow.
Every sound you make vibrates onto his cock, and by the deep groans that are falling from his lips, you’d say he enjoyed the sensation — you point your tongue, rubbing it into his slit and pumping him faster and faster — the burning, electrifying pleasure that’s tingling through your entire body becomes stronger and stronger with every push of Himchan’s cock into your pussy and every grind of his thumb against your clit—
“Y-yes — Oh - Oh, my God—!” You let out a final shaky gasp when your orgasm hits you. Your limbs feel weak with pleasure and your lungs aren’t filling with air and everywhere is tingling and your pussy is clenching and pulsating around Himchan. The man in question has his eyes trained on your face, jaw clenched at the combined sight of your pleasure-filled face and the feeling of your walls massaging his length—
His hips thrust into you even when he cums, spilling himself into you and pressing his fingers into your waist. You’d surely be bruised tomorrow, but for the moment your attention is purely focused on making Yongguk spurt his cum onto your tongue.
“Come on,” you mumble against him, looking at him through your lashes. Your hand speeds up, twisting and tightening around him until he cums, a long, drawn-out groan filling the room and his cum filling your mouth.
You continue to pump him until you’re sure you’ve completely drained him, and swallow the white liquid that was deposited in your mouth with a happy hum.
Heavy breathing follows in the minutes after you’ve all finished. Tiredness is ebbing at your mind but you manage to pull yourself off of Himchan, wincing at the feeling of his cum beginning to trickle from your pussy and onto your thighs.
Luckily their had been napkins delivered with the champagne on the table, and you’re quick to clean yourself up while Yongguk and Himchan collapse on the armchairs, eyes closed and chests rising and falling heavily with exhaustion.
And when they open their eyes not more than 10 minutes later, they’re confronted by an empty room — you’re gone, and the only thing that assures them of their previous escapades is the napkin on the table with a red kiss planted on the corner.
You’re halfway across the First Sector when they wake up, tired yet victorious. You had secured the expansion of your kingdom, no matter the cost.
After all, a queen must always prepared to do anything she needed to do in order to keep her kingdom thriving and growing. Anything.