#SKZ smut

[ateracha]

you being legit in HEAT after getting off of your period and needing chan’s cock in you constantly… imagine he just came in you so hard that he saw stars, and you still being horny af and climbing on top of him while he’s sitting on your couch with his head tilted back, eyes closed. he panics at the feeling of your naked body on top of him, already kissing down his neck while your hand mindlessly wanders down to his soft cock. “b-baby slow down, i just came so fucking hard in you” you mumble reassurance in between kisses, your wet pussy gliding effortlessly against his shaft. “just one more channie, please”. how could he resist you? chan’s cock twitched subconsciously at your cute whines. he was slightly playing hard to get now; chan knew himself that he had a libido of a dog in heat. he could go rounds after rounds if he wanted to. and today, you wanted to. you now guided his tip to your hot entrance, “c’mon channie,” you whispered in his ear, “just fuck me”. with a loud groan, chan thrusted up into you balls deep, feeling your tight pussy clench around him for the millionth time.

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Skittle game- L.FX

Requested by anon. This is from my prompt list. It's my first time writing for Lix so please be gentle 🥺 will try to post one more prompt tonight

14. Skittle game (adult version)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: smut, fwb to lovers, contains a funny epilogue 

Alexa, play Señorita by Shawn Mendes & Camila Cabello

The party was over. There were left only empty bottles on the table and music humming low from a now forgotten playlist, and the room smelled like beer and detergent. You were the only one left with feet bare, sleeves pushed up, scraping crumbs off the counter while Felix watched you from the couch.

He was slouched deep into the couch, his shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin above his waistband. His eyes were heavy, but still watching you, “You don’t have to clean”,  he murmured, voice deep as usual, “You’re not my girlfriend”.

You glanced back, smirking, “Good thing. I’d be a terrible one”. 

Felix just grinned, “You’d ruin me if you were”. 

Your skin tingled with it but you’ve danced around this too many times to let it get to your head. You rolled your eyes and tossed the last napkin into the trash.

“Want me to do what instead of cleaning?”

 “Want you to sit your pretty ass down and play a game with me”, he said, holding up a nearly empty bag of Skittles.

You raised a brow, “Skittle game. Seriously?”

He shrugged, “C’mon. Adult version. One round.”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to. Damn, you always want to when it comes to Felix. But because these nights had a habit of turning into something more— almost everytime.

Still, you walked over and sat beside him, thigh pressed to his,  “Fine. Let's do it”

He shook the bag, grinning like a devil, “Pick one, make a question”

You drew first.

Orange.

You popped it into your mouth, let it melt a little on your tongue, then glanced at him,“Smash or pass?”

Felix huffed, “That’s not funny. We’ve already smashed”

“Doesn’t mean you won't pass next time”

His eyes darkened, “I won't”

“Someone is confident tonight”

“I’m always confident”

He leaned in then, mouth inches from yours, like he was daring you to kiss him first. You didn’t, you just drew another Skittle.

Red.

You smiled, “Kiss me anywhere but the lips”

His grin faltered for a second, replaced by something slower, still teasingly enough.

“Anywhere, huh?”

You nodded once.

Felix shifted closer, fingers brushing your knee before sliding up, like he was testing your patience. Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to your neck, just below the ear, where you could feel your pulse racing.

“You smell so sweet”, he murmured, breath hot against your jaw, “Always do after we fuck”

Your stomach flipped. You looked at him, but he was already pushing the Skittle bag toward you.

Yellow.

“Confess something that would ruin our friendship”, you said,  “I mean…. the benefits of our friendship”

He didn’t even blink as he answered.

“I want you to be mine only”

The air between you gets heavy.

You shift in your seat, pressing your thighs together instinctively, “Felix… ”

“You said ‘confess’, I’m just being honest”

You grabbed the bag again, drawing another candy.

Green.

You lick your lips, “Touch me for five seconds. Anywhere”

He didn’t think twice. His hand slid between your legs,beneath your dress, fingers reaching the lace fabric of your panties, pressing just hard enough to make your breath shorten. He counted out loud, low, with a smirk on his face

“One… two… three…”

You were already squirming

“Four…”

His thumb circled your clit once.

“Five”

Then he pulled away like nothing happened, licking sugar off his knuckle.

You glared at him, “Asshole”

He laughed, eyes shining, “Don’t lie to yourself, you love it”

Then it was his turn.

Purple.

“Ask me something you wouldn’t if we were sober”, he said

You hesitated

“Did you ever come thinking about me before we started hooking up?”

His smirk faded. Felix shifted in his seat, “You mean when I tried to pretend I didn’t want you every time you walked in wearing those tiny little skirts of yours? Yeah, I did”

Your soul almost left your body.

He watched you for a beat longer, then picked the last Skittle from the bag.

Red. Again.

“No repeats”, you murmured

“Who said I’m repeating?”

He leaned forward. Fingers curling around the back of your neck and pulled you into his lap like it was instinct. Like it had always been this easy to ruin you.

His lips brushed your ear.

“This time, I’m kissing you here”, he whispered, mouth ghosting over your chest, just above your heart before taking your lips on his

You were already grinding against him, desperate and warm, too aware of how good he felt under you. Too used to this yet never tired.

Then you slid off his lap, sank to your knees between his legs like muscle memory.

“You won again”, you said, smugly.

Felix groaned when your fingers hooked on his waistband, his head dropping back.

“Fuck. You’re really gonna…?”

But the sentence died the moment your tongue touched him.

You’d done this before— too many times— but never like this. Never this intentional.

His hands gripped your hair, breath catching every time you swallowed around him, every time you hummed and let your tongue trace patterns he never knew he needed.

And when you glanced up at him with big eyes, mouth full, he choked on your name.

“This… fuck… this isn’t just a game anymore”

You pulled back just enough to murmur, “Did it ever feel like one?”

He stared at you. And you saw it, right there in his eyes— something wild. Something like a mix of desire with euphoria.

You took him deeper, and Felix could swear he wasn’t seeing just stars but a whole galaxy. You were there on your knees warm and wet and so into it, and all he could do was sit there with his head thrown back, fists clenched in your hair, making the kind of noises he swore he didn’t make.

“Fuck… angel, wait…”

You hummed around him,the  vibration making  him twitch in your mouth.

“Holy shit… don’t do that….”

You pulled off with a loud pop, blinking up at him, faking innocence, “Don’t do what?”

“That”, he panted, pointing at you like you’d committed a crime, “That… thing. With your tongue. Shit… I literally almost fell in love with you just now”

You paralysed

He paralysed too.

“You what?!”

Felix’s eyes went comically wide, “I… I didn’t mean… I meant like… figuratively, like…”

You raised a brow, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, still on your knees, “Felix”

“Okay, technically I am already in love with you”, he blurted, entire face turning red, “But I was gonna wait until like… after. Or during cuddling. Or maybe never? But then you started humming and I just… I panicked. My brain was like, ‘tell her right now or you’ll die’ ”

You stared at him, still holding his dick.

He stared back, mortified.

“…Can I finish first?”, you asked, poker faced

Felix wheezed, covering his face with both hands, “Please, God, yes. But like, just pretend I didn’t say anything yet”

You grinned, leaning back in, “Oh, I’m definitely gonna pretend”

Just like that, your mouth was back on him, and all Felix could do was grab a pillow, muffle a very real sob, and think ‘I love her so much it’s disgusting’.

The pressure built in him, every movement of your lips pushing him closer to the edge. His fingers tightened around the pillow, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps, but nothing prepared him for the moment when he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

He pulled you closer by the hair, urging you on as his body stiffened with the release, a broken gasp escaping him. A shudder ran through him as he came undone, the pleasure almost overwhelming in its intensity.

He fought to keep his eyes on you, watching the way you took him in, and the sight alone was enough to make his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the physical sensation.

Felix’s body trembled beneath you, a mix of pleasure and raw emotion flooding through him. "I can't stop…", he gasped, voice cracked and shaky, but the overwhelming sense of vulnerability felt too real to ignore.

When he was done cleaning himself, Felix pulled you to his lap. His hands were holding on your waist like he was afraid you’d run away. 

The air was thick with something neither of you felt before.

You rested your forehead against his, your breath still uneven from what everything just had happened, “You really said it mid blowjob, huh”

Felix groanned, “I panicked”

You laughed, but it faded fast. Because you felt what he meant. Not just the words but also the weight of them. Like he’d been carrying this for a while. And suddenly, you didn’t know what to think anymore.

It wasn’t just fuck buddies anymore. Not just games and teasing.

Your fingers trailed up the side of his neck, settling in his long blonde hair, “How long?”

He swallowed without looking at you, “Few weeks. Maybe longer. I kept trying to stop. Kept saying it was just sex”

“But it’s not”

He finally met your eyes,  “It hasn’t been for me in a while”

The silence that followed felt fragile.

“I don’t know what to do with that”, you whispered.

“I don’t either”, he admitted, “But I’d rather be honest and ruin it than lie and lose you anyway”

You blinked, chest aching, “Lix…”

He shook his head quickly, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t say it so you’d fix it. I just fell in love with you while watching you eat cereal in my shirt and talk shit about my taste in movies. I knew I was doomed”

You pressed your lips to his tenderly, a little sad.

It tasted like goodbye or maybe a beginning.

He kissed you back like he was memorizing the taste of your lips. Like if it was the last time.

When you pulled back, your nose brushed his. Then, you asked, “What do we do now?”

Felix exhaled, still holding you like he was scared you’d vanish. But then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your jaw, then to your cheek, then the tip of your nose.

And he said, “We stop pretending. And we figure it out”

“And if we mess it up?”

He smiled, genuine, “Then we try again. And again. As many times as it takes. I won’t let you go, Yn”

Your throat tightened. Your hands slid to his cheeks, and you kissed, deeply and passionate.

When you pulled back, you whispered, “Okay. Let’s do it. Together”

“Okay”, he nodded, smiling, “Us. For real this time”

You both enjoyed the comfortable silence for a moment. Still tangled up in each other but no longer hiding behind rules or teasing or the label of ‘just friends’.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was real.

And real was enough for you. The both of you.

…

Epilogue:

You were brushing your teeth when Felix walked into the bathroom, hair a mess, sleepy eyes.

He blinked at you through the mirror, “…Are you using my toothbrush again?”

You glance over,mouth full of minty foam, “You already kissed me after I had your dick in my mouth. I think we’re past toothbrush boundaries”

He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands, “I hate how valid that is”

You spat, then wiped your mouth, and leaned against the counter, watching him lazily grab his own brush looking at it with disgust but strangely not actually feeling it

“I’m making cereal for breakfast”, you said, “The good kind. With cinnamon crunch rolls”

He grinned around the toothbrush, “You’re literally the love of my life”

You smiled at him and said, not being flirty this time, “Yeah, I know. You’re mine too”

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep , @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa , @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin

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[hanniebaeee]

Call It What You Want

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI

Genre: friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff

Summary: You and Hyunjin have been doing this 'friends with benefits' thing for a while now. But let's be real. You love him. And when he starts showing similar feelings, you're terrified. And it leads to a whole lot of Hyunjin-style drama.

“Fuck, princess,” Hyunjin groaned, voice wrecked, “you’re so tight.”

He had you pinned to the bed, as he fucked you like the world’s about to end. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust hitting so deep you’re seeing stars. Galaxies even. His lips were on your neck, sucking bruises - which would have your art class whispering for weeks.

You pressed your eyes shut, losing yourself in him completely. The way he moved in and out of you. The soft wet sounds that filled the room. And him whispering the filthiest things in your ear.

You were barely coherent, nails digging into his back, pulling him closer. Hyunjin had this glint in his eye, as he shifted slightly, hitting that spot, and you choked out a moan, tugging at his short dark strands.

His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers circling your clit, and your orgasm hit you so hard, and you whimpered his name, clenching around him so tight, making him curse.

His thrusts turned sloppy as he whispered, “Fuck, that’s it,”

He came just as hard, burying himself deep inside you, and you were both panting, sweaty messes when he finally collapsed beside you. Pulling you close, he kissing your temple, and you let yourself enjoy it, just for a second.

It started about an year ago at a frat party you were dragged to by your friend, Jennie. You’d been sulking in a corner, nursing a warm beer, when Hyunjin, already tipsy, waltzed over, and declared you “the hottest grump he’d ever seen.” You’d scoffed at him, but in less than ten minutes, you had somehow ended up making out in his room upstairs.

One thing led to another, and now you were in this absurd, hilarious mess called, friends with benefits.

---

Hyunjin: You left your glasses on my nightstand. I can bring it over

You: Bring it to class tomorrow

Hyunjin: I’m keeping them hostage. 

You: Hyunjin 🙄

Hyunjin: Sleepover tomorrow? I’ll make pancakes.  

You: Maybe. But only for the pancakes.  

Hyunjin: Liar. You want my pancakes and you know what.

Hyunjin: Night, Nerd Queen 😘

You: Night, Hwang.  

---

You smiled at your phone, heart doing that stupid flip again. You knew you shouldn't be feeling like this. You two were friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. But every time you were with him, you fell for his stupid smile and his childish self way harder than you liked to admit. 

It was a Friday night, and you were curled up in your dorm, binge-watching a new series, when your phone started buzzing.

Hyunjin's frat was organizing a party, and he was probably charming the socks off everyone with his stupidly perfect face. You were trying to stay strong - no running to him tonight - because if you kept giving in to his every whim, he would surely figure out that you were completely, pathetically in love with his dramatic ass. 

And that was a secret you kept locked in a vault.

But Hyunjin? He wasn't making it easy. Your phone lit up again, and you caved, glancing at the screen.

---

Hyunjin: Babbyyyyyy where are you 😭 This party sucks without you! 

Hyunjin: Seriously, come over. I miss your face.  

You: You’re drunk, aren’t you? I’m staying in. Go flirt with your bros. 

Hyunjin: Drunk? Me? Pshh. Ok maybe a lil. But I only wanna flirt with youuuu.

Hyunjin: Come over, I’m lonely.

You: Lonely? Go cuddle Felix.

Hyunjin: Felix doesn’t moan like u do. 

You: Nope. I’m in my PJs, and I'm comfy. You’re on your own tonight.  

Hyunjin: I'm coming to you then. Can't escape me.  

You: Hyunjin, no. Stay at your party. You’re too drunk to walk across campus.  

Hyunjin: Too late. I'm on my way. Gonna cuddle you so hard you forget ur own name. 😤  

You: Oh my god. 

Hyunjin: I'm gonna climb into your bed and never leave. 

You: I’m locking my door.  

Hyunjin: You won't. You love me too much. 😘 Be there in 10. Wear that sweater I like.

---

You groaned, tossing your phone onto your bed. You should lock your door, but you don’t. Instead, you fix your hair, pull on that oversized sweater (the one he liked, because apparently you’re weak). Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing again, and you hated it. You were supposed to be the cool, studious introvert. But here you were. 

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You opened it, and there he was, looking like a dishevelled Greek god. His short hair and forehead glistening with sweat, his cheeks flushed, and his leather jacket slipping off one shoulder.

He gave you a sunny smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“My girl!” he slurred, stumbling forward and wrapping you in a sloppy hug. He smelled like beer and his cologne, and it was so unfairly intoxicating. “Told ya I’d come. Missed you so much.”

“You’re so drunk, Jinnie,” you said, but you were smiling as you guided him inside, shutting the door. “How did you even make it across campus without falling into a bush?”

“Love,” he declared dramatically, flopping onto your bed. “Love gave me wings.”

He patted the bed, saying “C’mere, nerd. I need cuddles.”

Then he decided that he couldn't wait, and grabbed your wrist, tugging you down next to him. You landed with a squeak, and he immediately buried his face in your neck, nuzzling like a needy puppy.

“Fuck, you smell so good. Like… home and sexy books.”

“Sexy books?” You laughed, pushing at his chest, but he’s clinging to you like a koala. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “God, I love you.”

He's drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it. But your poor heart wished that he did. Meanwhile, his hands slid under your sweater, and you yelped as his cold fingers grazed you stomach to move up and cup your breasts.

“Hyunjin! Your hands are freezing!”

“Then warm me up,” he whined, and before you could stop him, he was crawling under your sweater, tugging it up and burrowing into it. “Lemme in, it’s cozy in there.”

“Oh my god, you won't fit under my sweater!” you laughed.

He was wiggling, his head and shoulders all the way under the fabric.

“You’re gonna rip it!” you squealed, but he just hummed, pressing his face into the space between your breasts. 

“Worth it,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Wanna live here forever. You’re so soft. And warm.”

You were dying, torn between shoving him off and melting at how stupidly cute he was. He was still trying to fit into your sweater, but finally gave up with a huff and whine and said, “Fine.”

And then settled for wrapping his entire body around you instead. He threw a leg over yours, arms squeezing you tight, face buried in your chest (half submerged in your sweater).

“This’ll do. For now.” he said, and you hummed, stroking his back. 

“You’re such a baby,” you said, and you both remained silent as his breathing slowed and you thought he was falling asleep. But then he murmured, “Love you…so fucking much. You’re my everything.”

Your heart stopped. You froze, hand still on his back, waiting for him to laugh it off or say something dumb. But he just snuggled closer, sighing like he was finally at peace. You swallowed hard, emotions bubbling up.

You loved him too. His childish giggles, his unhinged texts - but saying it felt too big, too scary. So you just hold him, letting the moment linger.

“Sleep, you idiot,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head (poking out through the neckline of your sweater). He hummed, already half-gone, and soon he was snoring softly, clinging to you like you’re his lifeline.

---

Hubby: Morning, wifey 😘 You're so cute when you sleep. Didn't wanna wanna wake you up. Let's go get some breakfast?

You: WIFEY? You changed your contact name to HUBBY? Hyunjin, I’m going to murder you.  

Hubby: Murder your husband? Harsh, babe.

You: You’re not my husband. You’re a silly boy who needs to stop stealing my phone.  

Hubby: I don’t have to steal anything. You're mine. Your phone’s mine. Deal with it, nerd.

You: You're delusional.

Hubby: Call it what you want

Hubby: Now come gimme a kiss, I’m dying😩  

---

You rolled your eyes, yet you were grinning like an idiot before kicking your feet and squealing into your pillow.

---

Later that day, you were in the library, trying to study, but Hyunjin had other plans. 

---

Hubby: Wifey, I’m lonely 😢 Lets study together. 

You: Stop calling me that. And I’m not falling for your tricks. I’m studying.  

Hubby: Tricks? Don't be so mean my love

You: I’m muting you.  

Hubby: You can’t mute your soulmate. Be real fir once, you can't resist me. 

You:  You're so full of yourself.

Hubby: Come over and you'll be full of me too 😉

You: Omg HYUNJIN. 

Hubby: Lmao you're so easy to rile up. Ok, I’ll be good. Love u, wifey. 

---

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. He was so stupidly endearing, and you hated how much you loved it. You were about to reply when a shadow fell over your table. You looked up, and there stood Hyunjin, holding a coffee and grinning. 

“Surprise, wifey!” he said, loud enough for it to echo through the library. He slid into the seat across from you, completely ignoring everyone’s glares. “Coffee for my love.”

“You’re not my husband,” you hissed, but you took the coffee. “And how are you even here? Don’t you have class?”

“Nope,” he said, leaning forward, chin in his hands. “Had to see you. I knew you'd be wearing those glasses and looking so cute…makes me wanna bend you over this table.”

Your jaw dropped, and you kicked him under the table. “Hyunjin! We’re in a library!”

He laughed, unbothered, and grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Can’t help it.” 

You snatched your hand back, face burning.

“You’re insane. Go away before I get kicked out.”

“Nope,” he said again, scooting closer until his knee brushed yours. “I’m staying. Gotta protect my wife from nerdy predators.”

He winked, and you were so torn, because you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe this was real. But this whole thing started off on sex. And you were worried that he'd get bored and he'd get over you. 

You tried to focus on your notes, but Hyunjin was making it absolutely impossible - humming softly, doodling “Mr. & Mrs. Hwang” in your notebook. You give him a glare and yanked your book away, ruining the cute doodle he was working on. 

He gave you a pouty look, and you narrowed your eyes at him. The usual Hyunjin would whine or tackle you into a hug. But he did none of that. Instead he stood up, putting your pen down as he held your gaze, and then just walked away. 

You watched him disappear, and for the first time ever, you were terrified. 

It has been three days since the library incident, and you’re losing your mind. No “wifey,” no texts about bending you over a library table. 

Nothing. Just… silence. The worst part? You missed it. You missed his childish whining, his needy cuddles, his sweet face. You tried to play it cool, but by day four, you were a mess.

You had just finished class and were walking towards the campus cafe, when you spotted him. Hyunjin. Reading. You did a double take, nearly spilling your drink. Since when did Hwang Hyunjin, read a book that thick? He was sitting under a tree, leaning against the trunk, looking so soft in his hoodie and glasses (glasses?!). Your heart squeezed, but you were also annoyed.

You marched over, plopping down next to him. He glanced up, one eyebrow raised, and went back to his book. No grin, no nothing. Just a cool, “Hey.”

“Hey?” you repeated, incredulous. “That’s it? Why are you ignoring me?”

He closed his book, looking at you with a neutral expression that was so unlike him it was creepy.

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just… reading.”

“Reading?” You narrowed your eyes. “You haven’t spoken to me in days. What’s your deal?”

He shrugged, and said, “Figured you were sick of my ‘needy bullshit.’ You kept telling me to stop, so I stopped.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. He was being… serious?

“I didn’t mean stop everything. You’re acting like we’re strangers.” you snapped.

“I’m giving you space,” he said, his voice is tight. “You said I was too much. So, here’s not-too-much Hyunjin. Happy?”

Happy? You were miserable. But he was staring at you, all sulky and gorgeous, and you realized that he was on strike. No kisses, no touching, no sex. He was punishing you for resisting, and oh, it was working.

“You’re pouting,” you said, poking his cheek.

He swatted your hand away, but there was a flicker of his usual playfulness.

“Am not,” he muttered, turning back to his book. “Go study or whatever. I’m fine.”

You stared, heart twisting. He was hurt, and you did this. You pushed him away, and now he has dialled it back to zero. But you weren't letting him win this. You needed your Hyunjin back, drama and all.

You couldn't take another day of this cold-shoulder nonsense. You mustered the courage for what you were about to do, and walked to the frat house. Ignoring the party raging downstairs, you headed straight for Hyunjin’s room. You didn't knock - you just barged in, and there he was, at his desk, sketching. He was in a loose tank top, hair messy, pencil moving with that focused intensity that made him look so unfairly hot. He glanced up, startled, then leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Ever heard of knocking?” he asked, but there was a spark in his eyes, like he'd been waiting for you.

“Nope,” you said, shutting the door. “We need to talk.”

He raised an eyebrow, playing it cool, but that pout’s still there, lingering. “Talk then. I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, heart pounding. You’ve been resisting him for months, pretending you were not in love with him. But you were done fighting. You reached into your pocket and pull out the ring pop you had bought on a whim at the campus store - a cheap plastic band with a strawberry-flavored candy “diamond.” It was ridiculous, but you were desperate.

“Hyunjin,” you said, stepping closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. I was scared. Because I have wanted more for a while now. I don't want to be someone you sleep with. I wanna be more. I miss you. I miss being your wifey. I miss you so damn much.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything, so you kept going, holding up the candy ring.

“You wanna be my husband? Fine. Here’s your ring. Marry me, you idiot.”

For a second, he just stared, and you felt like you'd broken him. Then his face blooms - eyes sparkling, cheeks flushing, grin so wide it could overshadow the sun. He looked so happy, so Hyunjin, it was like the room got brighter.

“Wifey,” he breathed, voice shaking. “You’re proposing? With a candy ring? Fuck, that’s so cute. I think I'm gonna cry.”

“Please don’t cry,” you said, but you’re grinning too, heart racing. “Just say yes so I can stop feeling like an idiot.”

“Yes yes yes,” he said, jumping up and grabbing your face, kissing you so hard you stumbled back. His lips were soft and desperate, and you kissed him back, hands tangling in his hair, and it was like the world snapped back into place. He was yours, drama and all, and you were his.

The kiss deepened, all tongue and heat, and you were both gasping, pulling at each other like you’ve been starved. He lifted you onto his desk, knocking over his pencils and sketchbooks, and you laughed against his mouth.

“Careful, Hubby,” you teased, and he groaned, kissing you harder.

“Say it again,” he murmured, hands sliding under your shirt, warm and needy. “Please.”

“Hubby,” you whispered and he practically whimpered, pressing himself closer, lips trailing down your neck. You made out for what felt like hours, all sloppy kisses and wandering hands, until your lips were swollen and your hearts pounding.

Finally, you pulled back, both of you panting. He had the candy ring on his finger, and he looked so genuinely happy and excited.

“I love you so much,” he said, holding up his hand to admire the ring. “Strawberry’s my favorite.”

“You’re such a dork,” you mumbled, but you were beaming, because he’s your dork. “I love you, Jinnie.”

---

Hubby: My heart’s gonna explode.  

You: You survived the strike, you’ll live.

Hubby: Never. You looked so hot with that ring, though. Oh fuck, I'm hard again. 

You: HYUNJIN. Behave for five seconds.  

Hubby: Can’t. I’m married to the hottest nerd ever. I’m gonna kiss you forever.

You: I love you baby

Hubby: Fuck, I love you. My wifey. My nerdy goddess. I’m never shutting up again, you know that, right?  

You: Good. I missed your dramatic ass. 

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

[baby-yongbok]

"Let Me Make You a Mommy"

SKZ Hyung Line x Reader

⤷ Smut | drabbles/hard thoughts

⤷ WC - 1.6k [total]

⤷ CW - Breeding kink, praise, teasing, overstimulation, anal sex, unprotected sex, power play, body worship

⤷ A/N: I started writing for one and then I just decided to do all of them... Maknae line will be posted next friday!♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Chan

He’s buried deep inside you, slow and low, with his forehead pressed to your shoulder, groaning your name like a prayer that keeps getting answered.

You’re both so gone - sweat-slicked, sheets ruined, nails raked down his back. He’s been talking the whole time, voice dropping into that raw, ruined register that makes the filthiest things sound like gospel/

 So good, so tight, fuck, I missed this, made for me, you’re mine.

And then-

“Gonna make you a mommy.”

It slips out so fast he doesn’t even realize it at first. It’s not until your breath catches and your body freezes that he catches himself. And then he’s frozen with you, silently trying to find a pathetic cover up he knows won’t work. You pull back just enough to look at him, wide-eyed. 

“What…?”

Chan blinks. His mouth opens -then closes.

“I -uh…” A breath. “I didn’t… mean to say that.”

But you heard it. The way his voice cracked, the way his hips stuttered like the thought of it nearly made him come.

“You sure?” you ask, soft, curious. Not judging. Just listening. 

He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Don’t do this to me,” he mutters.

You laugh. “You did it to yourself.”

He’s still inside you. Still hard. Maybe harder after what he’s said. So you press your hips up just a little, clench around him, and ask, “You want to make me a mommy, Chan?”

“No,” he growls. Then again - less convincing, “Yes.” Then, quietly, “God, yes.”

He kisses you like he’s overflowing, confessing a deep dark fantasy. Maybe he is and it’s hot. The look in his eyes as he conjures up every single thought he’s ever had about breeding you full. 

“I think about it,” he admits. “When I’m alone. When I’m fucking you. When you smile at me in the kitchen like I wouldn’t drop to my knees for you.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I want you full. Round. Mine.”

You’re soaking now. And he feels it.

“You’re not letting this go, are you?” he murmurs.

You smile. “Not a chance.”

He growls again, grabs your wrists, pins them above your head.

“Then I guess I better make it worth it.”

And this time when he says it - “Let me make you a mommy” - he says it on purpose.

Minho

“You want it that bad?”

Minho’s voice is honey laced with venom, seeping into your spine as his hand pushes you down, face to the sheets.

He’s been working you open for what feels like hours, patience laced with punishment. Slick, stretched, and aching - but he still hasn’t fucked you where you need it most.

No - he took your other hole instead. Buried himself deep there, groaning like a sinner at the altar, while you writhed and begged beneath him.

“God,” he mutters, dragging out slowly, just to push back in with a ruthless roll of his hips, “this tight little ass’s already trying to milk me. But you want more, don’t you?”

You whimper, trembling, broken open and empty.

“Minho, please - please-”

He stills. Entire body locking up, voice turning cold and dark.

“Say it right.”

You blink, dazed. “W-what?”

His thumb brushes your lip from behind, a cruel mockery of softness. Then he thrusts just deep enough to make your eyes roll back.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, low and cruel. “You want my cock in your soaked little pussy? Want me to fuck you full and watch it take?”

You’re dizzy with it - with him - slick pooling between your thighs, untouched, throbbing. He knows it. You’ve been clenching around nothing all night.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what you want.”

And then he drops it - just above a whisper, but it crashes through you like a bomb:

“Let me make you a mommy.”

You gasp - wrecked.

“Minho-”

“Say it,” he hisses. “Or I’ll finish right here. You’ll be dripping down your thighs, and you won’t get what you’re begging for.”

You're trembling. Desperate. You choke on it.

“P-please,” you whisper. “Make me a mommy.”

He groans - so loud it echoes in the room.

And in one breathless, brutal motion, he pulls out and thrusts deep into your soaked cunt, bottoming out so hard your body jolts. The stretch, the fullness, after so much denial. You scream his name like it’s a confession.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moans, heady and deep like his pace - already punishing. He’s got one hand in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “Should’ve said it sooner.”

You’re sobbing now - too much, too good - each thrust tearing you in half and stitching you back together.

“Gonna fill you up so deep,” he pants, losing control now, “gonna stuff you full like you’re meant to be - fuck, baby, I’ll give you everything -”

You can feel it coming - his orgasm, yours, both tangled into something molten and terrifying.

And as you fall apart beneath him, tears streaking your face, voice shaking, he leans in close, breath hot against your ear.

“You’re my baby” he whispers, so sweet it hurts. “All mine, full and leaking.”

Changbin

He holds you like you’re breakable - even though you’ve already begged him not to be gentle.

The sheets are a mess. Your thighs are sticky, trembling from your second orgasm. Changbin’s flushed and breathless above you, gaze flickering between your eyes and the place where your bodies meet, like he still can’t believe this is real.

“You okay?” he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek, sweat-damp curls sticking to his forehead.

You nod, breath hitching as his hips roll again, cock dragging against your soaked, swollen walls.

“Too good,” you manage, “Feels too good - Binnie, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he says, leaning down to kiss your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. “You always take me so well.”

Then he slows, presses deep, and stays there, buried to the hilt, eyes locked on yours.

And in the quiet, he says it:

“Let me make you a mommy.”

You blink, stunned still.

His voice is soft. Barely a whisper. But it shakes.

“I want it,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want to see you round with me. Full of me. I think about it all the time.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s still inside you. Still hard. Still there - every inch of him trembling with want.

“I want you like this forever,” he murmurs, slowly moving again. “Messy and mine. I want to come so deep you feel me for days.”

You moan his name, hips rising to meet his.

“You’d be such a good mom,” he groans, thrusts picking up. “So beautiful. So fucking sexy.”

“Binnie-”

“Let me give it to you,” he gasps, panting into your neck. “Let me fill you ‘til there’s nothing left but me.”

You come again with a choked cry, clutching at him like he’s oxygen. He follows seconds later, voice breaking as he spills inside you - hips stuttering, arms locked tight around your waist like he’s anchoring himself to the idea of you, forever.

And when it’s over, when your bodies are tangled and quiet, he’s still there. Still holding you like a promise.

Still whispering, “I meant it.”

Hyunjin

Hyunjin touches you like art. Slow, careful, like you’re something sacred he’s not sure he’s worthy of touching.

His hands move like he’s sculpting you, thumbs pressing into the wet between your thighs like he’s shaping something that’s already his. His eyes are wide, lips parted, gaze so tender it makes your chest ache. Every breath is drawn out like he’s memorizing you all over again. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, kissing your belly, your hip, the soft underside of your breast. “I want to give you everything.”

You press into him, breath hitching, and he just melts - forehead to your chest, hands gripping hard at your hips like he’s scared you’ll slip away. “Shit,” he whispers, voice shaking. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

He lines himself up, cock thick and heavy, dragging through your folds until you're gasping, aching.

“Breathe,” he tells you. “I’ve got you.” Then, he’s pushing inside - slow at first, like he’s afraid to break you. His mouth presses to your throat, his breath warm and shaking.

“Fuck - you feel like heaven,” he says, voice already cracking. “Every time.”

He starts slow, almost too slow - hips rolling like waves, each thrust deliberate. It builds heat low in your belly, that unbearable pressure that keeps you pinned under him. You’re nails skin into his shoulder harder with each time he sinks into you, making love. 

And then - something shifts.

You say his name, soft and wrecked. You beg him to go faster. You wrap your legs around his waist and meet his thrusts with your own, and that’s when the calm snaps.

“I want it,” he pants, his voice breaking against your skin. “I want to fill you up - want to feel you take all of me.”

Your hands claw at his back. He thrusts again, losing the rhythm, chasing something primal.

His grip tightens.

His pace turns brutal.

And his mouth finds your ear, breath hot and ragged.

“Let me make you a mommy,” he rasps, voice wrecked and raw and so, so honest. “Please - let me fuck it into you, let me give you everything - every fucking drop.”

You moan, breathless, trembling under him, and that’s all it takes.

He breaks.

“You want that, don’t you?” he pants, fucking you hard now, rhythm punishing. “Want me to fuck you so deep you don’t know where I end and you begin?”

Every thrust is frantic now - deep, bruising, like he’s trying to imprint himself inside you. His moans turn into whimpers, praise falling from his lips between curses.

“So good for me - fuck, you’re perfect - gonna look so pretty carrying my baby, fuck-”

When he finally comes, it’s with a shattered cry of your name, forehead pressed to yours, his whole body trembling as he pours everything into you like it’s a prayer. A promise

And you believe him.

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[leriexoxo]

Look What You Made Me Do

Bestfriend! Seungmin x Reader

Tags: Explicit content, dom!Seungmin, choking, spanking, obsession, mutual manipulation, friends being absolute menaces to each other, emotional walls crumbling under horny pressure, language, soft regret, hard truths, unprotected sex (be smart irl), and delulu behavior all around

Word count: 6k

Summary: You and Seungmin have been best friends forever. Then he got hot—and you got reckless. A few teasing touches, too-short clothes, and one dangerous trip to Victoria’s Secret later… he’s snapping. Now he’s got you pinned, moaning his name, and saying this is your fault. And honestly? It is. You just didn’t expect him to fuck you like he meant it.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seungmin had no idea what he was doing to you.

That was the most maddening part.

He’d always been cute—adorably annoying, fast-talking, sharp-eyed—but it wasn’t until he started hitting the gym that things… shifted. He’d bulked up slowly. Nothing crazy. Just enough to stretch the sleeves of his old T-shirts, to make the lines of his back visible when he reached for something, to have veins pop along his forearms when he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.

And it was ruining you.

You tried to keep it under control. He was your best friend. Your movie-night buddy. The guy who knew your favorite ice cream flavor and let you scream into his chest when your favorite character died in a drama. But now?

Now he walked into your apartment after a workout, sweat-slick and flushed, with his hoodie slung over one shoulder and his water bottle dangling from two fingers, and your brain just… emptied.

“Ugh,” he groaned, dropping onto your bed like he belonged there, limbs sprawled, shirt clinging to his chest. “Kill me. Everything hurts.”

You leaned against your desk, sipping your iced coffee and pretending to be unfazed. “Did you even stretch?”

He threw an arm over his face. “Forgot. Again.”

You raised a brow, setting your drink down. “That’s why you’re sore all the time.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “You should become my trainer.”

A wicked little idea bloomed in your head. You walked over and sat beside him, knees brushing. “Seriously. Let me help. Where’s the worst of it?”

He peeked out from under his arm, wary. “My shoulders. Arms, maybe. Back.”

You hummed thoughtfully, eyes skimming down his body like you were considering a patient and not undressing your best friend with your eyes. “Roll over.”

He blinked. “What?”

You patted the bed. “C’mon. I’m giving you a free massage.”

He hesitated for a second before groaning and rolling onto his stomach. His shirt rode up just a little, flashing a strip of skin at the small of his back. You bit the inside of your cheek and straddled his thighs, pretending your pulse hadn’t just spiked.

“Let me know if anything hurts,” you said sweetly, placing your palms on his shoulders.

You felt him tense.

Then, slowly, he relaxed.

You started soft, thumbs tracing slow circles into the muscle. He was warm under your touch, all taut skin and heat, and he smelled like sweat and fabric softener. You let your fingers trail lower, down his biceps, deliberately grazing a little closer to his ribs than necessary.

He shifted beneath you.

“You okay?” you asked, voice syrupy.

“Y-Yeah,” he muttered. “Just ticklish.”

Liar.

You leaned down a little, letting your chest brush his back. “You sure?”

His breath stuttered.

You smiled.

Ten minutes later, you rolled off him and collapsed beside him on the bed like nothing happened. He lay very still, face turned away, ears flushed pink.

You stretched with a content sigh. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

He muttered something you didn’t catch.

You turned your head toward him, smirking to yourself as he fumbled for his hoodie and refused to meet your eyes.

He didn’t say it, but you knew.

You’d started something.

⸻

It was freezing outside, but your apartment was always too warm.

Well—that’s what you told him.

The truth was simpler. You didn’t want to layer up when Seungmin was around. You didn’t need a bra under your soft, thin cotton shirts. And you definitely didn’t care that it was the middle of winter when your nipples pressed visibly against the fabric, catching the light like a fucking weapon.

Seungmin knocked on your door like he always did—three quick taps, followed by a dramatic sigh when you didn’t answer right away.

You opened the door in one of your old college shirts. It hung loose off your shoulder and just barely covered the top of your thighs.

“Dude,” he groaned, stepping inside with a gust of wind behind him. “Do you not believe in heat? It’s like Antarctica outside.”

You closed the door and shrugged. “I run warm.”

He turned around to respond—but paused.

Eyes. Chest. Eyes again.

You pretended not to notice.

He cleared his throat. “You’re not cold?”

You blinked. “Nope. Why?”

His jaw ticked. “No reason.”

He followed you into the living room like a man possessed, already taking off his jacket. You flopped onto the couch, legs tucked under you, phone in hand. He sat a little too far away for best friends, eyes fixed on the TV, posture painfully upright.

You stretched.

Not dramatically. Just enough to raise your arms, to arch your back, to make the fabric slide up your thighs and tighten across your chest.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught it—his sharp inhale. The way his hands curled into fists on his lap. How he shifted just slightly, like he couldn’t find a comfortable position.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

“You good?” you asked innocently.

“Me? Yeah. Fine.”

But his voice cracked a little.

You slid closer, under the guise of sharing a blanket. Your bare leg brushed his thigh. You saw the way he tensed. How he didn’t move away.

“I think you’re cold,” you murmured, pressing your body against his. “You’re shaking.”

He let out a soft, strangled laugh. “I’m not.”

“Then why are you so tense?”

“Because,” he said, finally turning to you, voice low and tight, “you keep forgetting to wear a damn bra, and I’m a guy, not a monk.”

You blinked up at him.

Silence.

Then you smiled. Sweet. Coy. Wicked.

“We’re best friends, Seungmin.”

He stared at you.

And you?

You curled up beside him again, laid your head on his shoulder, and let your nipple graze his arm like a silent fuck you.

He didn’t speak for the rest of the movie.

But you felt his pulse—racing under your palm when you took his hand later, like everything was still perfectly innocent.

⸻

You always tried it at movie night.

Popcorn. Blankets. A stupid horror movie that you’d pretend to be scared of just to curl up in Seungmin’s lap. He’d roll his eyes, toss a comment about how you were the worst, but he never pushed you off.

Not once.

That night, he arrived in his usual hoodie and sweats, hair still damp from a post-gym shower. You opened the door in the tiniest cotton sleep shorts known to mankind and a faded crop top with a neckline that dipped far too low to be innocent.

His eyes did a quick up-down scan before he looked away. “Are you even wearing pants?”

“Barely,” you said, walking away with a shrug.

He didn’t answer.

He never did. I

You waited until you were halfway through the movie before curling into his side. First your shoulder against his. Then your thigh draped over his lap. His muscles tensed like clockwork—every time, without fail—but he didn’t move.

Your head dropped to his shoulder. You exhaled softly, letting your hand slide up to rest on his chest.

He stayed perfectly still.

You closed your eyes, and smiled.

You “fell asleep” sometime after midnight.

In reality, you were very much awake—especially when you felt his hand hovering awkwardly near your hip, unsure of where to rest. You were practically on top of him, pressed flush against his side, one leg tangled between his, your chest smushed against his ribs.

You could feel everything.

The tight line of tension running through his body.

The way his breath stuttered when you shifted in your “sleep.”

And… yeah. You could feel that too.

You shifted again—just slightly. A slow grind of your hips as you turned in his arms. Your thigh brushed something dangerous, and you swore you heard him gasp.

You waited for him to pull away.

He didn’t.

You could feel his heart hammering in his chest, hard and fast. You exhaled against his neck, lips just grazing his skin.

He flinched.

Still, he said nothing.

In the morning, you “woke up” with a stretch and a yawn, like you hadn’t spent the night dry-humping your best friend’s thigh under the guise of innocent cuddling.

“Did you sleep okay?” you asked sweetly.

He got out of bed without looking at you, muttered something about needing a shower, and disappeared into the bathroom.

You could still see the outline of him in his sweats.

He was very awake.

⸻

Seungmin had this stupid habit of crashing at your place after a long day.

Sometimes with takeout. Sometimes with his laptop and a hoodie slung over one shoulder. Sometimes, like tonight, he brought nothing at all—just himself in gray sweatpants and a fitted black tee that should’ve been illegal.

“I’m using your shower,” he called over his shoulder as he kicked off his sneakers. “Your water pressure’s better.”

You leaned on the kitchen counter, eyes raking over his back. “Help yourself. You know where everything is.”

He didn’t hear the way your voice dropped when you said it.

He didn’t see the way you bit your lip when his shirt lifted as he stretched, exposing a sliver of toned stomach.

Ten minutes later, he walked out in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, steam trailing behind him, hair dripping onto his shoulders.

“Forgot my bag in your room,” he mumbled, heading straight past you.

You didn’t stop him.

Didn’t offer a spare shirt.

Didn’t look away.

He returned in your favorite pair of his sweats and a hoodie that somehow did nothing to hide the curve of his chest or the flex of his forearms. He plopped onto the couch beside you, hair still damp, smelling like your body wash.

Your thighs touched. He didn’t move.

You flipped to the next episode of your show, pretending your skin wasn’t tingling everywhere he brushed against you.

Then your feet ended up in his lap.

Innocently, of course.

He stared at them for a second, frozen, then settled his hands on your calves. His thumbs traced idle circles—subconscious, mindless, dangerous.

You bit back a shiver. “That tickles.”

He stopped. “Sorry.”

“Didn’t say I wanted you to stop.”

He looked up.

Your gaze locked.

The air shifted.

You didn’t say anything else. Just laid your head back and let him keep touching you. Let him figure out whether he was comforting you or feeling you up. Let his hands drag a little too high, just under the hem of your shorts.

You could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His leg bounced once. Then again. Then he let out a long, slow breath and moved your legs off him.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” he muttered.

You smiled lazily. “Mine or yours?”

He looked at you. Eyes dark. Jaw tight.

He said nothing.

Just left the room.

And you swore—just swore—you heard him muttering a prayer under his breath.

—-

Seungmin already looked uncomfortable when you dragged him into Victoria’s Secret. The store smelled like sugar and sin, and he stood out like a sore thumb—tall, stiff, silent, trying not to make eye contact with a single mannequin.

You were glowing.

“This is cute, right?” you asked, holding up a deep wine-red lace set—strappy, sheer, the kind of thing no one wore to sleep unless they wanted to be devoured.

He blinked. “It’s… sure. Yeah. Cute.”

“You didn’t even look,” you teased, pouting slightly as you headed toward the changing room. “Be honest with me, Minnie. That’s what best friends are for.”

He sat down on the little bench outside the fitting rooms like he was awaiting trial.

You emerged in the first set.

It was all lace—deep burgundy, semi-sheer, with triangle cups that left nothing to the imagination. The panties were minimal, strappy on the sides, clinging to the curves of your hips like they were sewn on. You’d left your hair messy, lips glossy, and your eyes locked on him when you stepped out barefoot onto the plush carpet.

His entire body went still.

“Thoughts?” you asked, turning slowly to show the back—where the straps dipped dangerously low across your spine.

He blinked once. Twice.

Then swallowed. “It’s, uh…”

You walked closer. “Too much?”

“No. Not— not too much.” He sounded strangled. “It’s just…”

You leaned in like you couldn’t quite hear. “It’s just what?”

He looked at you like he was fighting for his life. “We’re in public,” he hissed under his breath.

You smiled.

“I’ll try another.”

The second set was worse.

So much worse.

Black satin. High-cut thong. Delicate mesh cups that teased at opacity but left your nipples perfectly visible in the right light. The garter belt cinched your waist. The matching choker clasped at your throat.

You looked like a fantasy someone wasn’t allowed to say out loud.

When you stepped out the second time, Seungmin actually stood up—too fast. Like something broke.

His eyes dragged over you once, from the tops of your thighs to your barely-covered chest to the glinting clip around your neck.

His throat bobbed.

You turned again, slow and smooth, letting him see everything.

“So?” you asked, lips pouted in faux innocence. “Would you be honest now?”

He didn’t say anything.

He just stared.

Unblinking.

Unmoving.

You stepped closer—soft, quiet steps until you were standing in front of him in nothing but satin and lust.

“I trust your taste,” you murmured, fingers brushing his forearm. “You always know what looks good on me.”

He exhaled like he’d been underwater too long.

“I think,” he said lowly, voice thick and dangerous, “you’re playing a very dangerous game right now.”

You tilted your head. “What game?”

“The one where you walk around like that, looking at me like that, saying shit like that—like you don’t know exactly what the fuck you’re doing to me.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Every night,” he muttered. “Every time you touch me. Crawl into my laps. Walk around in those tiny shorts, no bra, all soft and sleepy and warm. And now this?”

His eyes raked over you again. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe any of it was real.

“You’re gonna get yourself fucked,” he whispered. “And not gently.”

Silence.

Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back.

“I’m leaving.”

Your breath caught. “Seungmin—”

“Before I lose control. Before I stop caring that you’re pretending this is normal.”

He turned and walked out of the store without another word.

You stood there trembling, skin hot, still in the black lingerie that had pushed your best friend to the brink of feral rage and sexual implosion.

He was running.

And now? You were chasing.

—

You didn’t expect him to say it.

Not like that.

Not with heat in his voice and warning in his eyes and a low growl in his throat like he’d been holding it back for months.

You had been teasing.

Playing.

Flirting with the edge of something wicked because it was fun. Because he was your best friend and he never said anything, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?

He was always so soft.

Puppy Seungmin. Chill Seungmin. Safe Seungmin.

Until he wasn’t.

Until Victoria’s Secret.

Until he looked at you in that black satin set and told you—told you—that he knew.

And worse:

That if you kept it up, he was going to fuck you.

Hard.

Like you weren’t his best friend at all.

And then he left.

He left you standing half-naked and breathless and undone.

And now?

He won’t even look at you.

He started avoiding you immediately.

Late replies. Closed doors. Canceled plans.

He wasn’t mean. Just distant.

You came over to watch your show? He “had homework.”

You texted something flirty? He liked it—but didn’t respond.

You asked if he wanted food? “Already ate.”

He stopped crashing at your place.

Stopped falling asleep beside you.

Stopped letting his thigh brush yours like it didn’t mean anything.

And every time you saw him, you could feel it in the air.

Something thick and charged and dangerous.

Like a storm crouched on the horizon.

⸻

You found him on campus.

Outside one of the side buildings, earbuds in, head down, walking like he had somewhere important to be even though he very much did not.

“Minnie?.”

He paused. Didn’t turn.

“Seungmin,” you said again, stepping in front of him this time. “Are you really ignoring me now?”

He tugged one earbud out, looked past you like you weren’t even standing there.

“You’ve been weird all week.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Cut the crap.”

He sighed—like you were exhausting him—and finally looked down at you.

You were wearing your little white tennis skirt. The one that barely hid anything when the wind hit just right. Your top was cropped and ribbed and soft, your nipples faintly visible beneath the fabric. Nothing intentional. Nothing illegal. Just… you being you.

And that’s what made it so much worse.

“You want me to pretend?”

Your heart skipped. “What?”

“You want me to pretend you didn’t walk out in that fucking lingerie looking like you wanted me to drop to my knees right there? You want me to pretend like I haven’t been losing my mind every goddamn time you touch me, every time you look at me, every time you sit in my lap like it’s nothing?”

You stared, breath caught in your throat.

“I’m not stupid,” he said, stepping closer. “You knew exactly what you were doing. And I let it happen. Because I kept telling myself it was innocent. That you were just being you.”

His eyes dropped to your chest—just for a second. Just enough.

“But then you walked out in that second set. The black one. And I realized it wasn’t innocent. You were daring me. And if I stayed one more second, I was gonna take you right there in that changing room.”

You should’ve said something.

You should’ve stopped looking at him like that.

But your mouth was dry and your thighs were clenched and your heart was in your throat.

So he shook his head and turned again.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he said quietly. “I’m protecting you. Because the next time you test me like that…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

He walked away, leaving you in the hallway shaking—hot and cold and soaked through with the memory of his voice, his stare, his confession.

—

You weren’t proud of it.

You hadn’t meant for it to go that far.

The lingerie, the teasing, the bedroom eyes—it was always a game.

Until he broke the rules.

Until he said it.

Until he told you how badly he wanted to ruin you.

And now?

Now you couldn’t stop hearing it. Couldn’t stop seeing the way his jaw clenched when he looked at you. Couldn’t stop feeling the tension that had been boiling beneath your friendship like a livewire all this time.

You didn’t plan to go to his place.

But your feet brought you there anyway.

He didn’t answer the door at first.

Probably debating whether he should see you at all.

But then it cracked open, and there he was—bare chest, low sweatpants, damp hair, glowing with the heat of a recent shower.

And there you were—nervous, unsure, but still dressed like a fucking menace in that oversized hoodie and the tiniest sleep shorts you owned.

“Can I come in?” you asked, voice soft.

He exhaled. Tired. Guarded. “Yeah.”

You stepped inside.

His room was quiet. Dark. Intimate.

And he sat back down on the edge of his bed like he didn’t want to look at you for too long.

You hovered awkwardly. “I… I wanted to say sorry.”

His brows lifted. “For what?”

You hesitated. “For pushing too far. The lingerie thing. The teasing. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gave you a long, unreadable stare.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he said finally. “You made me hard.”

Your pulse skipped. He didn’t even blink as he said it.

“But,” he added lowly, “I meant what I said. I can’t keep being around you if you keep pretending this is normal. I’m trying not to fuck you. That’s not easy when you look at me like you want me to do it.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Because the second he lay back on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, eyes closed and jaw clenched—like he was exhausted by the very thought of you—

You moved.

Climbed onto the mattress like it was yours. Crawled across it slow and quiet until you were behind him.

And then you slipped your arms around his torso.

Pressed your chest to his bare back.

Rested your cheek between his shoulder blades.

He went rigid. Tensed under you.

But you whispered against his skin, “I’m sorry…”

And kissed his back.

Soft.

Sweet.

Just below the base of his neck.

He didn’t breathe.

“I’ll be good,” you murmured, kissing the curve of his spine.

Still no reaction.

“Don’t stay mad,” you whispered, lips ghosting the edge of his shoulder.

Then—snap.

He grabbed your wrists.

And flipped.

In one motion, he turned and pinned you to the bed beneath him—arms over your head, his body caging yours, hair falling into his eyes and rage simmering low in his voice.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” he demanded, voice hoarse.

You blinked up at him, speechless, thighs clenched.

“I’m not gonna ask again,” he growled. “You get one chance to answer me right. What the fuck do you want?”

His voice was low. Frayed.

His grip was bruising your wrists, but you couldn’t move—not even a little.

He was on top of you, his thigh between yours, the hard line of his cock pressed tight to your core through layers of sinful nothing. Your tiny shorts. Your no-panties boldness. His loose grey sweats. His bare chest heaving with restraint.

You could feel every inch of him.

His hand was pinning both your wrists above your head, one handed, like you weighed nothing.

“Because I’m done pretending I don’t want to fuck you, and if you say the wrong thing right now…”

He lowered his head until his lips brushed your ear. “…I’ll stop trying.”

“So. What do you want from me?” he asked again.

And you— You whimpered.

Like a bad little slut.

Eyes wide. Lips parted. Back arching under him without even realizing it.

You didn’t answer with words.

You didn’t need to.

Your body said everything.

The way your thighs rubbed together.

The way you stared at his mouth like you wanted it on every inch of your skin.

The way you breathed like he already had you split open and moaning his name.

Seungmin’s jaw locked.

And that was it.

That was all it took.

Something in him snapped.

He let go of your wrists—and his hand dropped straight to your throat.

Not squeezing. Just resting. A threat. A warning.

“You like playing games?” he muttered, eyes dark and jaw clenched. “You like walking around teasing me like I don’t see it? Acting like this is normal?”

His palm dragged slowly down your chest—over the hoodie that still clung to you, over your aching nipples pressing hard against the fabric. Then he hooked his fingers in the hem, yanked it up, and groaned when he found you bare beneath it.

“Fucking course you’re not wearing a bra,” he growled, rubbing his thumb across your nipple, watching you squirm. “You never do. You wanted this. Didn’t you?”

You gasped. “Seungmin—”

“Say it.”

You whined under him.

“Say it, or I stop.”

“I wanted it,” you whispered, eyes pleading. “I wanted you.”

That’s all he needed.

He crashed down and kissed you—filthy, like he was trying to erase every second of self-control he’d ever shown you.

And when he pulled your shorts down and shoved his knee between your legs?

He didn’t pretend anymore.

He didn’t stop.

And he didn’t hold back.

The second he kissed you—really kissed you—there was no going back.

It wasn’t sweet.

It wasn’t soft.

It was filthy.

Seungmin kissed you like he was mad at you. Like you’d done something unspeakable.

Like you’d been a bad girl—his bad girl—and this was how he planned to punish you.

He shoved the hoodie off your shoulders and let his hands roam.

Everywhere.

Your chest, your waist, your thighs. His palms were hot, rough with calluses from the gym, fingers spreading your legs wide and slipping under your shorts like he already knew what he’d find.

“No panties too?” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your wetness with a broken groan. “Of course you didn’t wear fucking panties.”

You were soaked—slick and swollen and throbbing for him.

He didn’t tease.

Didn’t warm you up.

He plunged two fingers inside you and kissed you deeper when you cried out, one hand sliding back to pin your wrists again as he pumped you open.

“Look at you,” he whispered, dragging his mouth down your jaw. “So wet. So fucking needy.”

You whimpered, arching into him, thighs trembling.

“You like being under me?” he growled. “Like when I hold you down like this?”

You nodded frantically.

“Use your words.”

“Yes—yes, Seungmin, I love it—”

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?” he snarled. “All those little games. You wanted me to fuck you.”

You moaned. “Please—please—”

And then he was gone.

You gasped at the loss, barely catching your breath as he shoved his sweats down and wrapped a fist around his cock—thick, flushed, angry red at the tip. Veins along the side. A bead of precum already sliding down.

He lined himself up with your entrance, gritting his teeth as he pushed just the tip in.

You shattered.

“Seungmin—!”

“Look at me.”

You did.

He stared down at you with his hand still around your wrists, his hips rolling slowly, inch by devastating inch—until he was buried so deep inside you, you couldn’t breathe.

“Feel that?” he whispered.

You nodded, tears prickling in your lashes.

“That’s not your best friend.”

And then he snapped his hips into yours—and all you saw was white.

The first thrust knocked the breath out of you.

Not just because of his size, but because of the way he looked at you—like every ounce of restraint he’d shown for the past year had finally snapped and now he was going to make you regret every single moment you played innocent while dripping in sin.

“Fuck,” he hissed, bottoming out again. “So fucking tight. You were made for this.”

Your back arched off the mattress, the stretch nearly too much. His cock dragged against every oversensitive spot inside you, nudging your cervix, owning you in ways no one ever had.

“You been thinking about this?” he gritted, voice dark as his hips slammed into yours. “Touching yourself in your little dorm bed, thinking about your best friend fucking you like a slut?”

You whimpered—nothing coherent—just a mess of yes and please and Seungmin.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow down.

He was already sweat-slicked, breathing hard, pinning your wrists above your head like he’d die before letting you go.

And when he pulled out just enough to slap the tip against your clit, you squealed.

“Oh my god—!”

“You like that?” he sneered. “You want me to make you cum like this? Beg for it.”

“Please—please—”

“No.” He slapped your inner thigh. “Beg right.”

“Seungmin, please fuck me harder. I wanna cum on your cock—want you to ruin me—”

That was all it took.

He growled—a deep, feral sound—and pounded into you again, hard enough to shake the bed.

Your eyes rolled back.

His grip tightened around your throat, just enough to make your head spin as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“You asked for this,” he snarled. “Now take it.”

You came violently, thighs locking around him as your whole body spasmed beneath his. He fucked you through it—chasing his own high now, cock twitching, slamming into you over and over until—

“Shit—fuck—” he choked, and pulled out just in time to paint your stomach with thick, hot ropes of cum.

You laid there, dazed. Legs trembling. Mind shattered.

And Seungmin?

He looked at you like you’d flipped his world inside out.

“Fuck—fuck,” Seungmin growled, the words gritted through his teeth like they hurt to say. “Look what you fucking made me do.”

His voice was wrecked. Deep. Raw with emotion.

You were shaking beneath him, your legs still trembling from your last orgasm, your body completely limp, skin glistening with sweat and cum and tears. But he wasn’t done.

He couldn’t stop.

Not even if he wanted to.

He was already hard again.

Already sliding back between your legs, pushing your thighs wide as your fingers curled in the sheets. Your stomach and chest were a mess—covered in his first release, his fingerprints bruised into your hips and arms, and your wrists? Still red from his earlier grip.

“Shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered under his breath. “Shouldn’t fucking want this.”

But he was already inside you.

No warning this time—just the stretch, the pain-pleasure burn of his cock shoving deep into your soaked cunt like he owned it now. Like he’d already decided this body, this pussy, this mess was his to destroy.

“Fucking made me this way,” he snarled, voice breaking. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Walking around in those little tops, rubbing up on me every fucking chance you got—no bra in winter? You think I didn’t notice?”

Your head was spinning.

He was already moving again—hard, fast, deep, his hips slamming into yours with punishing thrusts that had the whole bed creaking. And still—still—he held your throat in one hand and your thigh in the other, forcing you open.

“You played with me,” he groaned. “You pushed and pushed—made me lose my fucking mind—”

His hips snapped forward. You cried out, nails raking down his back. You couldn’t even answer. Couldn’t speak. Your eyes were rolling back, mouth open in a silent scream as he hit the spot perfectly with every brutal thrust.

“You like this?” he growled. “Being ruined by your best friend?”

You nodded through tears, a wreck under him.

“You like when I choke you?”

His hand tightened around your throat. You gasped, grinding up to meet his thrusts.

“You like being spanked, yeah?”

He flipped you over like you weighed nothing and smacked your ass—hard—his palm leaving a red sting that had you clenching around nothing. And then he slammed back in, making you sob into the sheets.

“Is this what you wanted?” he hissed into your ear. “You wanted me obsessed with you?”

He reached down, wrapped your hair around his fist, and yanked your head back to kiss you—sloppy, desperate, spit-slick and heated.

“I’m never fucking letting you go now.”

Your cheek was pressed into the sheets, ass arched high, legs shaking uncontrollably as Seungmin relentlessly fucked you from behind.

His hand was tangled in your hair. His other hand was at your throat again, pulling you back into him with every deep, punishing thrust.

“Mine,” he gritted out. “You’re fucking mine.”

You didn’t even know what you were moaning anymore—his name, maybe, or just some pathetic cry for more. But it didn’t matter. Your body knew. You were dripping down your thighs, already on the edge again, too full, too overstimulated, too wrecked to make sense of it.

And then—he stopped.

You gasped—outraged, ruined.

Seungmin grabbed you, flipped you onto your back again, and looked down at you like he wanted to crawl inside your skin.

His chest was heaving, his jaw clenched, his face twisted in some devastating combination of guilt and obsession.

“I can’t stop,” he whispered.

You blinked, lips parted.

“I should,” he said, leaning down, pressing his forehead to yours. “But I can’t. I’ve wanted you for too long. You made me crazy.”

You whimpered. “Then don’t stop.”

His eyes darkened.

You said it again—softer, filthier.

“Don’t stop, Seungmin… Please.”

And that broke him.

His mouth crashed into yours—finally—and it was not sweet. It was all teeth and tongue, all desperation and heat and frustration and want. He kissed you like he hated you. Like you ruined him. Like he was trying to breathe you in before you disappeared.

And when he slid back inside you?

It was slower. Deeper. More devastating.

His forehead pressed to yours. His mouth hovered above yours, catching every little moan. His hand slid under your thigh to pin it high on his waist, angling you perfectly so he could thrust in deep, again and again, until tears spilled from your eyes.

“You feel that?” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “Feel how good I fit inside you?”

You nodded, dazed.

“You’re gonna cum again, baby. Right on this cock. I wanna feel you lose it.”

You were already there.

You clenched around him—tight, desperate—and his groan was inhuman.

He didn’t even try to hold back this time.

His thrusts turned frantic, mindless, and when you came—screaming his name into his neck, body convulsing—he followed. Deep inside you this time, filling you with everything he had, his mouth open in a stunned groan as his body shuddered above yours.

He collapsed on top of you—still inside, still panting—and whispered the softest, most ruined confession against your throat.

“Fuck. I’m so in love with you.”

The room went quiet.

The only sound was your breathing—shaky, shallow—and Seungmin’s heart pounding hard against your chest as he laid there on top of you, his face buried in your neck, arms locked around you like he still couldn’t believe it happened.

Neither could you.

But you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t even think.

Your body was too sore, too used, too full of everything he gave you.

Still, your mouth moved without permission.

“Seungmin…”

Soft. Croaky. Barely a whisper.

He didn’t lift his head. Just held you tighter.

You tried again—more broken this time.

“Seungmin—baby…”

That did it.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes bloodshot, lips kiss-swollen, hair a complete mess. He looked like he’d been through hell. Like he’d dragged himself through fire just to get to you.

And now he was scared to look at what he burned down.

“You didn’t mean to say that,” you whispered, touching his cheek with trembling fingers.

His jaw clenched.

But he didn’t deny it.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he rasped. “But yeah. I meant it.”

You just stared at him. For a long moment.

And then… a crooked, devastated smile tugged at your lips.

“You’re so dumb.”

He blinked.

“You didn’t even realize it, did you?” you murmured, brushing your nose against his. “I started all of this the moment you started hitting the gym. The moment you started looking like this. I’ve been losing my mind over you. Every day. Every fucking day.”

Seungmin’s breath caught.

You tilted your head. Bit your lip.

“I didn’t mean to fall for you, either.”

And then you kissed him.

Slow. Deep. A little messy.

Not because it was rushed. But because it meant something.

And he kissed you back like he was never going to stop.

When you finally broke apart, his thumb stroked your cheek.

“I should’ve said it sooner,” he whispered.

You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair.

“You say it every time you look at me, stupid. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

He dropped his head to your chest with a groan, and you giggled, wrapping your arms around him.

And that was it.

No drama.

No denial.

Just two best friends who finally got too close to the line—and realized they belonged way past it all along.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: ok so i might be obsessed with the bestfriends trope… sue me 🥹 but this seungmin is in my headddddddd!!!!!!

You know the drill babes, drop that like and comment and be sure to reblogggggg! I love you guys!

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Muse

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hyunjin is madly in love with his muse—hopelessly, endlessly, and indulgently so.

Warnings: Goodness… where do we begin? Everyone’s naked, Hyunjin is a very passionate pussy eater, and he has a habit of sketching his girl in the nude. Just don’t interact if you’re a minor.

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Bangchan

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

It started with a brushstroke—long, deliberate, trailing down the curve of her naked back like a whisper. His hands didn’t touch her, not yet. But his eyes did. And his gaze alone was enough to make her ache.

Hyunjin painted like he was in love. And he was.

She was his muse. His obsession. The reason the paint didn’t dry on his palette and his soul never stopped starving. He didn’t just look at her—he devoured her with his eyes, studied every freckle, every curve, every line etched by God and kissed by the sun. And when he painted her like this—bare, perched on his antique chaise in nothing but gold jewelry and goosebumps—she felt like a goddess in the flesh.

“My masterpiece,” he murmured, voice reverent.

She shivered.

It wasn’t just the chill in the studio air. It was the way he worshiped her.

Hyunjin didn’t just spoil her—he drenched her in devotion. Custom Versace silks made for her body only. Weekly deliveries of rare orchids flown in from Thailand because she said she liked the way they smelled. Diamonds for no reason. Private suites in Paris. He wore gold rings on every finger and wrapped her in his name like another piece of couture.

“Why?” she asked once, her hand resting on his jaw as he knelt between her legs, robes pooling at his elbows like some decadent royal.

His lips brushed the inside of her thigh.

“Because I need the world to know you belong to me.”

And she did.

But he belonged to her too. Even when he was on his knees, licking slow prayers into her skin like a sinner desperate for grace.

──୨ৎ──

The chandelier swayed faintly above them, but it was the mirror on the ceiling that stole her breath.

She lay there, skin kissed by silk sheets, body glistening with the golden gleam of Cartier—thin chains resting against her collarbone, bracelets at her wrists, diamonds catching the candlelight like tiny stars scattered across her body.

But her eyes weren’t on the jewels.

They were on him.

Hyunjin was between her thighs, shoulders flexing with every movement of his tongue, golden skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his hair falling into his face in soft, black waves. His back—broad, sculpted, divine—was a landscape of devotion, muscles tightening with every desperate pull of his mouth.

She could see it all in the mirror.

The way her legs trembled around him. The way his hands gripped her hips like she was sacred. The way he worshipped her—not just with his tongue, but with every inch of him.

He wasn’t in a rush. He never was.

Hyunjin ate her out like a man who’d been starved, like the only way he’d survive was with his mouth buried in her, like her pleasure was his daily prayer. His tongue moved in slow, reverent circles, teasing her open, coaxing her into a fevered mess, and then dipping deep until her whole body arched off the bed.

Her breath hitched as she watched his mouth glisten, watched his fingers curl against her thighs to hold her steady.

And in the mirror, she saw it all.

Saw the flush blooming across her chest.

Saw the gold around her throat catch the light every time she moaned.

Saw the way he looked up at her, eyes dark and starving, like he’d gladly live down there forever if she let him.

“Baby—” she gasped, her hand tangling in his hair, voice breaking as her thighs clamped tighter.

He didn’t answer.

He just groaned—low, hungry—and pulled her closer, burying his face even deeper like her pleasure was holy, like her taste was the only thing that had ever mattered.

In the mirror, she saw her head fall back, lips parted, diamonds glittering at her neck like a crown.

And when she finally shattered—loud, desperate, breathless—Hyunjin held her through every wave of it, licking her clean, kissing her thighs like benedictions.

When he finally rose from between her legs, lips wet and chin shining, he hovered over her, kissed her deeply, let her taste herself on his tongue.

“You should always see what I see,” he whispered, brushing her hair off her cheek with a touch as gentle as silk. “You’re art. You always have been.”

She touched the Cartier around her neck, touched his face.

“You’re mine,” she breathed.

And he smiled.

“Always.”

──୨ৎ──

But the next day….. a pout.

A soft, quiet one, but Hyunjin knew it too well.

She sat on the edge of their velvet chaise, long legs crossed, her gown draped around her like a rose petal. Her makeup was perfect. Her hair was curled just right. But her eyes were stormy.

“There’s nothing that fits,” she murmured, gesturing helplessly at the small sea of shoes surrounding her. Heels in satin, crystal, and leather—all wrong.

“And no bag,” she added, a depressed tone now. “Not one that matches the tone of the dress. Not one that feels right.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, amused.

“But baby, you look—”

“No,” she cut in, standing up with a frustrated huff, silk brushing the floor.

He bit his lip to hide a smile. There it was—that fire, that exquisite taste, that refusal to blend in.

And god, he adored it.

──୨ৎ──

The next day, she woke up to chaos.

Or rather, elegance in chaos form.

The Apartment was flooded with soft Italian murmurs and velvet boxes. A sharply dressed man with silver hair bowed as he gestured to the collection he’d brought. Versace bags in every style and shade imaginable, from sleek patent leather clutches to opulent baroque-printed totes, each more divine than the last.

Heels too. Dozens of them.

Gold, white, champagne. With embroidery, pearls, snakeskin. Slingbacks. Stilettos. And somewhere in the middle—exactly the one she had pictured in her head the day before.

On top of it all: a sprawling bouquet of long-stemmed roses, gardenias, and peonies in the softest blush and ivory.

There was no note.

Just Hyunjin at the top of the stairs in a robe, leaning on the railing like a bored prince.

“Told you I’d fix it,” he said, smiling lazily. “Now go find your fairytale shoe, Cinderella.”

She stared, speechless. Then walked over to him in bare feet, her voice soft.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he said, kissing her forehead. “But you deserve to have the world shaped around you.”

──୨ৎ──

There was always a new gift waiting.

Some days, it was a sketch—him, on his floor at 3 a.m., too drunk on love to sleep, his pencil frantic to capture the curve of her shoulder, the slope of her spine. Other days, it was velvet boxes lined with Cartier and Bulgari, gold and diamonds and sapphires that matched the gleam in her eyes when he pulled her onto his lap and fastened the chains around her neck himself.

But it wasn’t just the things.

It was how he adored her. Like she was the center of his universe. Like all the beauty he created with his hands would still never compare to the shape of her sleeping in his bed.

And she was spoiled, yes.

But she was also his.

She’d said she didn’t need it. Just a casual comment at breakfast, something about how the perfume was nice but impossible to find.

So, of course, it showed up the next day. Three bottles, sealed in crystal, packaged in a lacquered case with her initials engraved in gold.

“You didn’t,” she whispered.

Hyunjin smiled, reclined on the chaise with his sketchbook in hand, his Versace robe falling open like some decadent afterthought. “You liked it.”

“I mentioned it once.”

“And I remembered.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. She crossed the room, perched on his lap, burying her fingers in his soft hair. “You’re insane.”

He made her feel like the world had been created just for her to live in it. And him? He existed just to love her.

But it wasn’t one-sided.

She loved him, too.

Not for the diamonds. Not for the paintings. Not for the palace he built for her out of velvet and devotion.

She loved him when he fell asleep in the apartment, paint on his cheek and her name written over and over again in the margins of his sketchbook. She loved him when he got quiet after a long day, curling into her side like a boy who just needed to be held. She loved the soft in him as much as the sin.

She loved him for all the ways he gave himself to her—and for all the ways he let her love him back.

And that’s why she let him spoil her.

Because he was hers.

And she was everything to him.

His Muse.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

@sapphirewaves @bemyaehiweloveskz @velvetmoonlght

[3rachaslut]

i have NOTHING appropriate to say

Han in this outfit got me folding so fucking hard, as in, I need to be put on a fucking lead by him. I will woof or meow whichever he prefers ig. He looks so dom! I’m actually going insane. I’m so unwell with this man to the point where I’m on my knees ready and waiting

[kpop---scenarios]

Change Me, Baby

Pairing: Vampire! Chan x Reader

Summary: Chan's been watching you for months. You've been watching him for weeks. When you finally catch him watching you sleep, you get what you've been yearning for, and maybe more.

Warning: Smut [ oral f. receiving, unprotected sex, creampie etc] 18+ ONLY. MDNI

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Big thanks to @unholywriters for this idea!! If you want to commission your own story (especially cause it's my birthday in 6 days, or donate) you can do that HERE. Anything and everything is always SO appreciated!

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykidss @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @silly250 @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @iovecb97 @1810cl @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @anskiiz @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @ayyonoona @31maze13 @stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited @hoesheez @stayatinykatsy @catlove83 @jeonginstulip @kaleigh-2002 @honeycombbaybee @hyuneyeon @flylis @kpop-choco @chloe-elise-2000 @eastjonowhere @stephanieeeyang @nightmarenyxx @0325tiny @m1nn1everse @igot7bulletproofmonstas @imeverycliche @cathyxhaddy @hodgepodge-musings

“You're finally back.” You whisper, rolling over in bed. You had been pretending to sleep, waiting and hoping the man who had been following you for weeks would show up again. It had been almost a week since he had last sat in the chair across from your bed, watching you sleep. So every night, you lay awake but pretending to sleep to see if he would show up, but he never did. You had almost given up hope until you heard the faint sound of the window in your living room slowly slide up. You left it unlocked on purpose, knowing it was his favorite way to come into your apartment, even though you lived on the seventh floor.

You knew he wasn't human. You knew he was something else. His pale skin wasn't normal, th3 strength he used to climb your buildings fire escape wasn't normal. You had seen him one night, effortlessly climbing. His eyes weren't normal, they weren't human. There was nothing human about him, maybe except for the fact that he only wanted you.

“I'm back.” He says in a low whisper.

“Why were you gone so long?” You ask, sitting up in your bed, turning your head to look at him. “I've been waiting for you.” You whisper.

“I know. That's why I couldn't come back. I'm not supposed to be here.” He says.

“Why?”

“Humans are forbidden.” He answers.

“Forbidden for what?” You ask. “Is that why you've been following me?” You wonder.

“I just needed to see you.” He says. “But I'm not allowed to.”

“I know what you are. You've been watching me for months, Chan. But I've been watching you too.” You admit.

“I know you’ve been watching me, Y/N.” He chuckles. “I should go.” He murmurs, standing up from the chair.

“I don't want you to go.” You say, standing up. You stand in front of him, your hand on his hard, muscular chest. “Stay.”

“I can't. I shouldn't have come.” He says, trying to move past you but you don't let him.

“Don't you want me?” You ask, trailing a finger down his chest and to his stomach. “Because I want you so fucking bad.”

“Fuck, i do.” He whispers. You move your hand up to his shoulder, pushing him down. He drops down to his knees, staring up at you. You smile down at him, lifting your leg, resting it on the chair. You pull up your nightgown, exposing your already wet pussy. Chan licks his lips as he leans forward, his eyes still on you. He hesitates for a second before he moves in, wrapping his lips around your clit. Your body jerks at the feeling of his lips on you. It doesn't take him long to get fully into it, sucking and licking you completely. His large but cold hands grip your thighs as he continues devouring you. You moan loudly, gasping as your orgasm builds quickly. Your hand grabs his hair, holding on tightly as you grind your cunt on his face.

“Oh god, Chan. Fuck… fuck.” You cry out, grinding faster as his tongue and lips work their magic. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum.” You cry, practically ripping his hair out of his scalp as you cum, all over Chan's face, gasping for air while you work through your high.

You bring your leg down, almost stumbling back. Chan catches you in a split second, smiling as he licks your juices off his lips. “You're going to get me into trouble.” He murmurs, tossing you on the bed.

“Hands and knees.” He demands. You don't say anything, except move into position. Chan lifts your dress up over your ass as you spread your legs even more. “Good girl.” He mutters. You can hear him unzip his pants from behind you. Your mouth was practically drooling, imagining the feeling of his cock stretching you out. Your cunt clenches as you impatiently wait for him, you were dripping with cum and desperately needed him to fuck you, right now.

“A little needy, are we?” He asks, stepping towards you.

“Very.” You gasp. “Please fuck me.”

“I'll have to be gentle with you.” He says.

“Sometimes I forget my own strength.”

“Don't be gentle with me.” You whimper. “I want you to destroy me.”

You can hear Chan chuckle behind you. “Your wish is my command.” He says. You can feel him pushing his tip into your hole, and you already wanted to cum again. Chan slowly slides his cock into your cunt, stretching you out in ways you had never had before. Your hands grip the bed sheets as he continues to push into you.

“Holy fuck.” You gasp, your arms giving out on you. You lay with your ass up, face being pushed into the mattress as Chan pulls out, before forcing himself back into you. You cry out loudly, the only sounds you can hear are Chan grunting as he rams himself into you, and you moaning and crying out in nothing but pure bliss as he destroys your pussy.

“You like that?” He asks, landing a hard slap on your ass.

“Y-yes.” You cry. “Shit.”

Chan moves one of his hands between your legs. It feels like ice on your clit as he rubs you, wanting to make you cum again. Your breathing gets heavier as your eyes roll back, your orgasm approaching at a record time. “Please, please…. fuck…. Please.” You scream.

“Cum all over my fucking cock.” He grunts, leaning forward to grab your hair this time. You yelp as he pulls your head back, having you lean against him. He moves his hand from your clit, Pulling your nightgown over your head, discarding it somewhere behind him. He continues thrusting into you while he reaches around, grabbing your tits. He pinches and pulls at your nipples while you move your hand down between your lips, rubbing yourself while he fucks you. He kisses your neck while slowly pushing his cock into you over and over again.

Your orgasm is building quickly, again. You moan out, mumbling some words about cumming.

“What do you need, baby?” He whispers into your ear.

“I need you to fuck me harder.” You gasp. Chan doesn't reply, instead forcefully pushes you back down onto the bed. His hands grip your hips, ramming his cock into you. You knew he was holding back because he was inhuman strength but even this was fucking wrecking you and you loved it.

“Just like that.” You cry, rubbing your clit harder and faster. Seconds later, your orgasm hits you, jolting pleasure through your whole weak body. Chan digs his fingers into your hips as he chases his own high.

“So tight.” He grunts. “Fuck.” He moans. You throw his head back as his own orgasm hits. He grunts loudly as he cums, spilling his cum into you. You clench your cunt around him, making his orgasm even better.

“Jesus christ.” He sighs, pulling his cock out of you. He moves to sit down on the chair, smiling widely as you collapse on the bed, trying to catch your breath.

“That's about right.” You murmur.

You can hear him standing up, getting dressed. You sit up on your bed, watching him getting ready to leave.

“Don't go.” You say. He gives you a sympathetic smile.

“I can't stay. I'm already going to get shit for being gone so long. And now fucking a human, that's going to be worse. Nothing more can happen while you're human.”

You struggle to get off your bed, scooting to the edge to stand in front of him. You look up at him and smile widely.

“Then change me.” You say.

“I can't… that's not an option.” He murmurs.

“Why?” You ask.

“I want you. I want to be with you. Don't you want that too?”

“More than you know.” He murmurs.

“Then do it.”

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“I'm sure.” You whisper. Chan leans in close to you, putting his ear near your lips.

“Say it one more time and I'll do it right now.” He whispers. You hold him closely, smiling as you whisper into his ear.

“Change me, baby.”

[strrykais]

𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑛𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑡 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

no forreal!! this was an accident!! though they are convinced you did it on purpose to get a rise out of them. you can say its most definitely working, and may be your greatest mistake.

𝑘𝑎𝑖’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: freaky text post once again! hope you guys are having a beautiful day!

𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺 𓂃 ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs !

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 : @mhluvie @sxungchqn @chenlezip @cowboy-jester @peskybirdysya @jisungs-iced-americano @skysole @champagneconfetti @suckerforv @auroratiseee @dollxkill @bookishcaptain @goldenmellow @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @amaranthlvr @kj-kts @fackeraccount @imagine-all-the-imagines @sellomaybe @va1entinaaa @vangoghsear0 @insbread @jaeminlights @sonicsoloss @d3kstar @balladeerssong @my-neurodivergent-world @eli-rey @newt-vanderlinde @sirroma @atinyrosedoor @shotovhs @becca_0919 @skzescapes @perisoreuscorvid @corgilover20 @changbinsdwaekkiball @thisrandombitch @mooseung @alnex_05 @jeonginsbaee @torkorpse @grassbutneo @peskybirdysya @weirdowithaphone @unfxrgetwble @bangchanwifey @avilio-is-dead @geni-627 @stylishcaprisuns @iarainha @ssunglvr @beomgyusluver @fairyssongs @lezleeferguson-120 @wookiebearz

𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍; please 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆!

𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑟𝑦𝑘𝑎𝑖𝑠 ™ © 2025 — 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙧𝙮𝙠𝙖𝙞𝙨, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙢𝙚 !

[jj-one]

RANDOM BF!SKZ TEXTS ! 📲 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

pairing: ot8 x f!reader genre/tags: smau, crack, kys jokes, very suggestive (mdni!!)

[note] — finally posting on this acc again after like a year of inactivity LOL, made these in less than an hour at the airport so they might not be that good but enjoy ! <3

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away)

pairing: chan x afab!reader

genre: angst, smut

wc: 1.9k

synopsis: you call your best friend in the middle of the night, seeking comfort in his presence and it takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: swearing, depression, semi-public, unprotected sex, creampie, mildly proofread

a/n: i love deftones with a burning passion

masterlist

You couldn't take it anymore.

Sitting alone in your apartment as you stared out the window and into the night, watching life pass you by. While you just stood in place. The same old routine over and over again, your body was moving on autopilot at this point. It seemed as if everyone around you was getting everything they wanted. A dream job, a perfect partner, whatever their little heart desired; while you were stuck with nothing.

Your hands were always left empty just like your soul.

And the emptiness kept growing every day until your tears had dried. There was no point in crying anyways, it never brought any solution to your problems, it only gave you headaches and bloodshot eyes. Your hand reached out for your phone hesitantly, shakily.

You knew he was awake because you knew your best friend like the back of your hand. So, you called him up. And he knew just what you needed without you having to explain it. He could read it in the tone of your voice and even though it made his heart clench in pain when he saw you like this, totally and utterly defeated; he still craved to be next to you. At least as a distraction.

That's how you ended up in the passenger seat of his car somewhere around 1:30am, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, your face bare and tired. And still he gave you a dazzling smile as if he was looking at the sun, not the dark cloud filled with rain that you felt like right now.

"You wanna put your playlist on?" Chan asked and you nodded, the familiar comforting tones of Deftones' Sextape flooding through the speakers of his car made you slump into the seat instantly.

Chan didn't ask, he never did, he always waited for you to start talking about it by yourself, he knew you needed some time to collect your thoughts before pouring your soul out to him. So, he just started driving into the dark night.

You stared out the window, everything seemed to pass by so quickly the more he sped up, the lights of the city becoming a river of blurriness as you pressed your forehead against the cold glass, your warm breath creating a little cloud on it.

You hugged yourself and closed your eyes tightly. You were transported to another place, a place where you weren't lonely and disappointed. A place where you weren't a let down. A place where you felt like you actually belonged, so far away from all of it. All the smiles of people who suddenly stopped talking to you just because they found someone better, someone more interesting to share their time with. They all started fading away into the darkness of the night sky.

Chan drove and drove, your playlist was almost finished by then, meaning you had spent an hour just driving around mindlessly together. He parked in a spot you always ended up at, high up above the city where you could see every building, every road and every tree.

Silence replaced the last song of the playlist before both of you got out wordlessly. You took a deep breath of the fresh night air and walked over to the little wall that was built there for safety reasons. Chan followed you after stretching his arms and legs and you let out a deep sigh.

Both of you stared at the stars quietly, your eyes connecting the little shining dots into various shapes before they found Chan's.

He gave you a small smile and you couldn't help but return it even if it didn't quite reach your eyes.

"My intrusive thoughts are telling me to throw my phone over the wall or some shit like that." you said suddenly and Chan let out a short laugh.

"Please don't do that." he shook his head. "I really don't wanna have to go climbing down there to get it."

"I'm not that crazy."

"Debatable." he teased you and you punched his arm, making him laugh.

The two of you went quiet again before you felt the nagging sadness washing over you again.

"I wish I could fucking disappear sometimes. Or just run away from here, somewhere far away." you said as you stared at the city in front of you.

"You'd be running from yourself then. That's kind of impossible."

"Don't go all psychological on me." you rolled your eyes playfully and Chan sighed with a smile on his face. "You know what. I don't wanna talk about it at all. Sometimes I don't even know why I even feel like this. Sometimes I'm just... not me."

"It's okay, Y/n. You don't have to always have a reason for feeling down, sometimes it just is what it is." Chan said, standing closer to you.

"I know." you said quietly, suddenly feeling bad that you made him come here in the middle of the night and you couldn't even give him a proper reason for it.

But, Chan didn't mind. In fact, he loved that he was the first person you'd reach out to when you get like this, it meant he was your comfort. And you had no idea that despite millions of stars shining in the sky, your best friend still found himself drawn to the sparkle of your eyes.

His fingers twitched by his side; how many more nights of this could he take? How many more times will you hurt yourself until you finally learn just how much you're worth?

He had no idea what the hell washed over him but something snapped deep inside his soul when you looked up at him as if you were searching for an answer inside his eyes. He reached out and cupped your face, the last thing he saw before closing the distance between you was your eyes widening and then fluttering shut.

You also had no idea what came over you but as soon as Chan's lips touched yours it was like in those cliche romantic movies, the feeling like everything clicked and fell into place. It wasn't fireworks exploding as they always describe it but it was definitely a fire burning deep inside you. The spark was always there and you just needed one push to finally ignite it.

Your hands clutched onto his shirt as you pulled him closer and his hand splayed on the back of your neck as he tilted your head and pushed his tongue into your awaiting mouth. Everything was spinning around you, and you were enveloped in Chan's warmth and his familiar smell.

Your brain melted and you couldn't think about consequences as he gripped your hair and swirled his tongue around yours. You couldn't form one coherent thought as he backed you up against the car, pressing his body against yours, making you feel wanted, warm, protected. You grabbed at his shoulders as his hands landed on your waist, then slid down to your hips, gripping you as if to ground himself. His lips never left yours not until you needed to breathe desperately.

You gasped for air and Chan opened the back door, a darkness in his eyes that you've never seen before but it made you shiver, tingles running up your spine.

"Get in the back." he said, softly but firmly and you got in, grabbing his hand and pulling him with you. As soon as he sat down and closed the door you were pulled into his lap and you pressed yourself against him. Neither of you said anything, your bodies melted together as your hands roamed on each other, lips dancing together again.

"Chan... please." you said, you had no idea what you were asking for, you only knew that you needed him to completely cover you and to erase everything with his touches and kisses.

Chan was everywhere, his lips and teeth on your neck, hands on your thighs, your hips, your ass, your back. He was mapping you out, making you his, making you feel everything you always craved for.

"Fuck! I can't take it." you don't remember the last time someone touched you like he did, kissed you like he did and you started grinding on him, even through layers of clothing you could feel how hot and hard he was and you were getting desperate.

Desperate to erase all the thoughts plaguing your tired mind.

Clothes were pulled off, albeit clumsily in the small space of the back of his car and Chan didn't even have time to admire you and worship you like he always wanted, you were already grabbing his length and lining yourself up.

"Wait, wait!" he stopped you and you looked at him, your heart beating hard against your chest.

"Are you sure?" he asked. You knew there was no going back or backing out of this right now.

"Yes." you said and sank down on him, whimpering at the stretch. Chan let out a low grunt as his hands gripped your hips, his middle lifting up automatically into you.

"God, you're so tight." he groaned and looked at you and you whimpered, your entire body shivering.

There was a thought in the back of your mind, a realization that you were fucking your best friend and that nothing will be the same after this but you ignored it and started moving on top of him. Chan guided you, holding your waist and helping you fuck yourself on him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and fell forward into him, your breasts pressing into his chest.

"That's it baby... Fuck, just like that." Chan groaned and couldn't help it as his hips lifted up to meet yours. You clenched around him involuntarily when he spoke like that, his voice soft and familiar in your ear.

Nothing existed in that moment except him, his hands on your skin, his lips on your neck, his low moans in your ear and his length buried deep inside you. The car windows fogged up from the warmth your bodies created and all your worries melted into a puddle somewhere in the back of your mind. It doesn't matter, that was the only phrase bouncing around in your brain as Chan gripped your hips with a bruising hold, fucking up harder into you and bringing you back to the present moment.

You almost didn't realize you were making such loud sounds until you became aware of yourself, your body as it tensed up, close to the edge you so desperately wanted to fall off of.

"Fuck, Y/n!" Chan moaned your name, like a prayer spilling from his lips and you were pushed off the cliff as you exploded around him, your entire body shaking and your ears ringing.

As you clenched around him, Chan lost it, drowning in your warmth, your scent, your hands, your body slick with sweat and he pushed you down on him, burying himself so deep inside as he came, moaning your name over and over again.

You slumped against him, the warmth of his seed filling you up completely erased any thought left in your brain. Chan didn't say anything, afraid to break the fragile moment and have you try to run away from him. He held onto you, his embrace warm and familiar as you clung onto him, your face buried in his neck and your hearts beating together rhythmically.

You didn't want to think about what this meant or what tomorrow could bring.

But Chan's warm hand found yours and you thought that maybe, just maybe, life can be bearable if he was there with you and this time you wouldn't be left empty.

@moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog @pancake-freckle @felixsbrowniesarmystayengene @minhooofr @hyunjincanraptoo @yaorzu-blog @ari-hwanggg @linofthelace @hyunjinlosthisamericano @the2000girlani @hhjlvr @beabidoobee @psychicdreamers

the playlist i love sm:

[ateracha]

hyunjin and how he uses his hands

- first thing that comes to mind is how he would touch himself

- loves to tease himself and you watching, hands slowly moving down his toned torso

- would 100% grab his clothed bulge, thumb rubbing the tent up and down as he hisses lowly

- once his heavy cock is free, he’d collect his pre-cum that had formed at the rosy tip with his thumb

- he would press down on his slit with his thumb too, watching his pre-cum ooze out even more

- slowly wraps his whole hand around his cock, finger by finger

- using his pointing finger and his middle finger, he would coat his tip and the top half of his cock with his pre-cum

- would then use those fingers to call you over, two fingers curling, then uncurling, beckoning you to come closer

- grabs the top of your hair, pulling you slightly upward and toward his cock, a hint that he wants you to take him in your mouth

- (smiles so sweetly too while pulling your hair… this mfer) (when you smile back though, it’s over)

- would lean over you while you suck his cock so he can start toying with your pussy

- repeats the process of just rubbing your entrance, then bringing those fingers to his mouth

- would insert two fingers (middle finger and ring finger fosho)

- loooooves hearing your squelching so would vibrate his fingers up and down

- i also feel like he’s king of using all holes

- so would have some 🖖🏻 moment if you catch my drift

- “mmm, listen to that…your pussy is fucking squelching”

- “you like it when you have both of your holes stuffed with my fingers baby?”

- “fuckkk my muse, you think you can fit 4 fingers?”

[dakusan]

J u s t F r o m T h i s

stray kids ot8 x reader | you said “i could cum just from this.” they made sure you did.

🖤 synopsis: You said it once—soft, trembling—“I could cum just from this.” From the sound of his voice. The weight of his stare. The tension in his thigh beneath yours. You didn't mean for them to hear it. But they did. And now, they won’t let you forget it. Each of them takes your body like it’s an oath. A power play. A performance. You are worshipped. You are undone. And pleasure? It comes in eight different forms of obsession.

💌a/n: it came. the skz tamagotchi. took its sweet time—now it just sits there. unhatched. staring at me like it knows what i wrote. like it’s judging the fact that i turned one line into eight different kinds of destruction. shoutout to @cybergracie for the prompt. you lit the match. i burned the house down. p.s. if you’ve ever given me a prompt and i end up writing it… i will message you to ask if i can tag you. p.p.s. the song is Phantom’s Touch by VX. click it, or don’t.

⚠️warnings: NSFW (18+) — body worship, overstimulation, edging, powerplay, teasing, praise kink, voice kink, thigh riding, light degradation, orgasm control, implied overstim/crying kink, fingering, face sitting, dom!skz energy, possessiveness, sensory play, emotionally manipulative tenderness™, no actual smut penetration but still feral, all 8 of them are dangerous in different ways, you said it. they proved it.

🎶now playing: "Phantom Touch" — VX

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

BANG CHAN // 방찬

🖤 the “this” = his voice. Low. Rough. That honey-dipped, accented murmur that melts into your skin. He's not touching you—yet. Just speaking. And it ruins you.

1. The moment it slips out. Your breath hitches. His words ghost across your ear. It’s slow and warm and just filthy enough to make your thighs press together.

You gasp,

“I could cum just from this.”

He pauses. Smiles like sin. “Is that right, angel? Just from my voice?” His hand tightens on your waist. You’re in danger.

2. A challenge, not a compliment. You meant it as an overwhelmed moan. But to him, it’s a provocation.

He leans closer, lips brushing your jaw—not kissing, just hovering.

“Then don’t move. Don’t touch. Let’s see if you really can.”

The room feels like velvet and heat. He whispers. You tremble.

3. The studio voice. You make the mistake of visiting him at the studio. He plays a raw vocal cut, and you’re already melting in your seat. He notices.

“I haven’t even said anything dirty yet, baby.”

Later, you’re bent over the soundboard while he whispers filth behind you like it’s a love song. His voice? Wrecks you.

4. His voice in your inbox. Nighttime voice notes. Always when you’re alone. Always dangerous.

“Slide your hand down for me. Slowly. Don’t cum until I say your name.”

You do as you’re told. You always do. Because his voice is home and ruin in the same breath.

5. The aftermath. You cum. Hard. Just from his voice. No hands. No mouth. Just that low, growled praise that lives under your skin.

You’re wrecked. He’s smug.

“Next time? I won’t be so gentle.”

And you want that.

Lee Know // 리노

🖤 the “this” = his fingers. Long, elegant, deceptively gentle. Not even inside you—just teasing. Just tracing. Slow circles on the inside of your thigh, or featherlight strokes over your clothed heat.

You're panting. You whisper, “I could cum just from this.”

And he freezes. Lifts an eyebrow.

“Is that so?”

1. He doesn’t stop. He slows down. Minho’s fingers are maddening. Not fast. Not rough. Just intentional. He finds a spot—one that makes you twitch—and stays there until you’re whimpering.

“You’re already trembling. You’re that sensitive, baby?”

2. Just over your panties. He’s not even under your clothes yet. Just rubbing the softest circles over damp lace. Never increasing the pressure. Just enough.

“You want more?” “Beg for it. Or cum like this.”

Your mind? Gone. Your pride? With it.

3. The rhythm. Minho’s a dancer. He knows tempo. He knows exactly how to drag his knuckles down your ribs, how to match your breath with the flick of his wrist.

It’s not just fingering—it’s orchestration. And you? You’re a string he plays with cruel precision.

4. Smug little comments. He says them so casually, it’s infuriating.

“Didn’t even have to fuck you.” “My fingers make you lose your mind, and I’ve barely done anything.” “Pathetic.”

And yet, the way he whispers “good girl” right after has you cumming so hard you see stars.

5. The aftermath. You’re collapsed on his chest, legs still shaking. He’s lazily playing with your hair, unbothered.

“So dramatic. Just from my fingers?” “You’re lucky I like ruining you.”

You’re addicted. And he knows it.

Changbin // 창빈

🖤 the “this” = his mouth. Not just what it does—but how he uses it. Kisses that get messy, lips that trail down your body like he’s worshipping you, filthy things whispered into skin he’s already marked.

You moan out, “I could cum just from this,” and Changbin looks up from between your legs like he’s about to ruin your life.

“Then do it. Right now. Cum for me, baby.”

1. His mouth never stays still. He's licking, kissing, sucking just enough to bruise, then pulling back to let you whimper from the loss. He alternates between featherlight and desperate. And he makes sure you feel everything.

2. Tongue game = lethal. You think he's just teasing with soft kisses… and then suddenly? He flattens his tongue and groans into you like he needs it just as bad.

Your legs lock around his head. He smiles.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Ride my face—go on.”

3. Verbal filth while he’s eating you out. He’ll pull back just to say:

“You taste so good, fuck.” “You could cum just like this? From my mouth alone? Then give it to me.” “Make a mess on my tongue, baby.”

You’re shaking before he even goes back in.

4. Holds you down. He uses his strength to your disadvantage. One arm wrapped around your thigh, holding you open. You’re trying to squirm—he won’t let you.

“You’re not going anywhere ‘til you cum on my mouth. Understand?”

You understand nothing. Your brain is static.

5. After you cum— You’re trembling. Breathless. Mind blank.

He doesn’t stop.

He groans, tongue slower now, teasing your sensitivity. Just enough to make you twitch again.

“Told you. My mouth wrecks you.” “One more, baby. Be good and give me another.”

He doesn't stop until you’re crying into the pillow.

Hyunjin // 현진

🖤 the “this” = the way he looks at you while he touches you like art. You’re already overstimulated—because he’s been softly caressing every inch of your body like he’s painting you with his hands, and the way he holds your gaze while doing it? It's ruinous.

1. The eye contact is intense. You’re beneath him, vulnerable, and he’s watching you. Not with lust—with reverence. Like you’re a masterpiece falling apart beneath his hands.

When you say it—“I could cum just from this”— he just whispers,

“Then fall apart, my love.”

2. Every touch is deliberate. He's tracing the dip of your waist, the swell of your hip, the curve of your lips. Not rushing. Just soaking you in. As if the act of touching you gently is holier than sex itself.

You’re crying and he’s barely touched your core.

“You feel this? This is what worship feels like.”

3. The slow burn is unbearable. No thrusting. No fingering. Just his hands on your skin. His lips on your collarbone. His eyes never leaving yours. Your body is arching into every whisper-soft graze, chasing the heat.

You tell him you could cum—just from this.

He believes you. And then he pushes you there.

4. The aftermath is ethereal. You're shaking, tears in your lashes, chest heaving.

He kisses your forehead like you just survived something divine.

“You’re so beautiful when you let go.” “You don't need anything but me.”

And it’s true. Because when Hyunjin touches you like this— you don’t even remember your name.

5. The artist returns. The next morning, he sketches you in bed. Your flushed face. The way you looked right before you shattered. You ask what he’s drawing.

He says, “Your divinity.”

Han // 한

🖤 the “this” = his voice… but specifically? His moans. His whimpers. The messy, desperate sounds he makes when he’s so turned on he forgets how to breathe. You hear that and your body betrays you.

1. He’s LOUD. He’s the type to curse, whine, beg while rutting into the mattress because you’re just watching him, thighs clenched.

When he hears you whisper “I could cum just from this,” he stares at you, wide-eyed, panting.

“Wait—you like this? My sounds? Shit—keep watching, baby.”

2. Makes you listen. He records voice memos when he’s needy. Moans your name. Tells you what he’s doing. And then sends it. You’re at work. Or on the train. And now you’re suffering.

“Fuckfuckfuck, I’m thinking about your mouth again—ahhh—baby, I need you so bad—”

You’ve cum from just one voice note. You’re not okay.

3. Moaning in your ear. He’s a whimpering mess when he’s close—breathy “fuck”s and half-formed pleads slipping out between kisses. But when he realizes it gets you off?

He amps it up on purpose.

“You’re squeezing me so tight—ahhh, babe—fuck—gonna cum—ahh, don’t stop—“

You're done for. You cum first.

“No hands? You came just from my voice? That’s so hot. You’re so hot. I’m gonna—fuck—“

4. Accidentally made you cum while overstimmed. He was already sensitive, trembling, twitchy—and moaning through every movement. You were overstimulated too, on round three. He begged so sweetly, voice cracking from pleasure—

And you came. Again. Just from hearing him.

He panicked.

“Wait—did you just—? FROM ME?” “That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

5. The afterglow is chaos. You’re breathless, dazed. He’s giggling and flopping over your body like a broken ragdoll.

“So… my moans are your kink? I should record an album.” “I’ll title it: Moanography Vol. 1* You threaten him with a pillow. He moans at that too.

Felix // 필릭스

🖤 the “this” = his voice— But not dirty talk. Not begging. It’s the way he murmurs soft, loving things in his deep, velvety bedroom voice. The contrast between his sweet words and that unholy bass tone is what wrecks you.

1. His voice wraps around you like a blanket. You’re lying in bed, half-dressed, flushed. He’s barely even touched you—just holding your hips gently, forehead against yours, whispering things like:

“You’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me.” “I love the way you react to my touch.” “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You whine, breath stuttering— “I could cum just from this…”

He groans softly.

“Then be good and let it happen, angel.”

2. He’s all about connection. Felix doesn’t fuck you—he makes love to you like it’s a religion. Every kiss is reverent. Every touch intentional. But the moment he leans close and whispers something soft and filthy?

“You’d fall apart just from my voice? That’s so sweet. Let me take care of you.”

You’re done.

3. ASMR IRL. He reads to you. Whispers in your ear when you cuddle. Tells you what he’s going to do to you while brushing your hair back gently.

“You’re going to cum just from hearing me? My good girl. That’s so special.”

Your body responds to him like it’s wired for his frequency. One low moan from him, and your legs tremble.

4. He keeps his lips right at your ear. He’s behind you, grinding slow and deep—but his lips stay close.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re doing so well.” “I’ve got you, baby. Let it out.”

And when you do, just from his words, his voice…

He moans with you.

“That’s my girl.”

5. The aftercare is divine. He holds you like glass. Kisses your temple. Wraps the blanket tighter.

“Did I make you feel good?” “You know I’d do anything to hear you say that again.”

You feel worshipped. Cherished. Loved. And you know next time?

You’ll say it again. “I could cum just from this.”

And he’ll whisper,

“Then let me give it to you, over and over.”

Seungmin // 승민

🖤 the “this” = his mocking praise + overstimulation. He’s not even inside you. He’s using the toy—your vibrator—or just two fingers, barely moving. But he’s speaking so calmly, so condescendingly, it makes you feel like you’re losing your mind.

1. Cold voice. Hot hands. He’s holding the vibe against your clit, on the lowest setting. Your hips jerk, your voice shakes, and you gasp—

“I could cum just from this…”

He doesn’t even flinch.

“That’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think?” “I’m barely doing anything.”

And yet, your thighs are shaking. You’re already moaning.

2. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He talks down to you but still watches every reaction—eyes locked on your face, noting every twitch, every breath.

“You really can’t handle it. That’s so cute.” “Wanna cum already? Just from this? Tsk. Easy.”

And yet, his free hand is stroking your thigh gently. You’re being bullied and comforted at the same time.

3. He plans this. He’ll do it after a long tease session, where you haven’t been touched for hours. He pulls out the toy, sets you up in his lap, and says:

“Let’s see how little it takes tonight.”

It’s a game to him. And when you break first?

He smirks.

“Told you. All talk.”

4. The scientific menace. He adjusts the intensity. Barely. You cry out.

He tilts his head.

“Oh? Just a little stronger and you’re already shaking?” “Are you that sensitive, or is it just me?”

Spoiler: it’s him.

5. The aftercare is… confusingly tender. You’re fully wrecked. Legs jelly. Brain fried.

He kisses your forehead and hands you water like he didn’t just degrade you into an orgasm with zero effort.

“You did well.” “But next time? Don’t brag so early.”

Seungmin is terrifying. But also? You want him to do it again.

I.n // 아이엔

🖤 the “this” = his teasing + power play. The way he holds you down. The way he taunts you while being just out of reach. You’re desperate. Grinding against him. And he’s still fully clothed.

“So needy. I’m not even touching you properly.” “And you’re ready to fall apart?”

You nod. Whimper. Cry. He grins like a devil in Dior.

1. He plays innocent until he has you spread open. He acts shy in public. All cute boy smiles and dimples.

Then behind closed doors?

“Look at you. You want to cum from this? From just my thigh?”

He makes you ride it. Doesn’t even flinch. Lets you grind until your moans get high and your nails dig into his shoulder.

2. His grip is UNREAL. When he pins your wrists above your head with one hand? Yeah. Game over. You’re already panting, and he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

You whine, “I could cum just from this.”

He just tilts his head.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

3. He teases until your brain short-circuits. He gets you so close and pulls back. Over and over. Every time you beg, he coos sweetly.

“Not yet, baby. I wanna see you cry for it first.”

But the moment you say “I could cum just from this,”?

He STARES. Goes quiet.

Then:

“Do it. Right now. No fingers. No cock.”

4. He lives for ruining you without giving you what you thought you needed. His knee. His voice. His gaze. That’s all he’ll allow.

And when you finally collapse, trembling from a friction-only orgasm?

“That was cute. Think you can do it again?”

Oh no. You shouldn’t have challenged him.

5. Post-nut evil. You’re on your back, boneless. He’s sipping water, still dressed, like he didn’t just psychologically dismantle you.

“All that from a thigh and some dirty talk?” “You’re more corruptible than I thought.”

And then— He finally kisses you.

Soft. Slow. Sweet. Just to break you again.

[leriexoxo]

A Bumpy Ride

PART ONE

“Rough ride, hold on tight, yeah this train never sleeps”

Pairing: Chan x Fem Reader

Tags: smut, exhibition, semi-public sex, fingering, riding, car sex, risky sex, unprotected sex (be smart), breeding, tit play, friends to fbuddies

Word count: 3.9k

Summary: You got invited to go camping with the members of straykids after their promotions, everyone’s excited about the road trip in the mountains but with all the luggages of over 10 people piled up in three cars, there wasnt any room for you- well except on Chans laps, for the entire 2 hour bumpy ride and lets just say, You did NOT dress up with this outcome in mind. The road plus your clothes or lack-thereof puts you both in a sticky situation

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

next

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The sound of laughter echoed from the driveway as the members of Stray Kids bustled around, finishing the last-minute packing for the long-awaited road trip to the campsite. Every inch of the three cars was packed to the brim with luggage, snacks, and camping gear, the trunks barely able to close, and even the backseats cramped with duffel bags and coolers. It was supposed to be a weekend away—a break from their hectic schedules, and maybe the first chance to truly relax in what felt like forever.

But, as the boys loaded into the first two cars, you stood on the edge of the driveway, eyes widening in confusion.

“Wait, where’s my seat?” you asked, glancing around. “There’s no space in the back of either car!”

Jisung poked his head out of the first car. “Uh… yeah, we didn’t quite plan for your bags, and, well, there’s no more room.”

Hyunjin, standing beside him, gave you a sheepish look. “Looks like you’re gonna have to hitch a ride in the trunk.”

“No way,” you groaned. “I’m not sitting in the trunk for two hours.”

Chan was already walking toward you, amusement in his eyes. “Hey, if you want to make it to the campsite, I can carry you. We’ll squeeze you on my lap for the ride.”

You stared at him, blinking in disbelief. “You’re serious?”

“Would you rather be left behind?” Chan smirked, raising an eyebrow, as the other boys chuckled, giving you no choice but to agree.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you shrugged, “Fine, but you owe me big time for this.”

“Deal,” Chan said, already opening the back door of the third car. You slid in after him, your face flushed with embarrassment and excitement at the same time. The moment the door closed, the smell of his cologne surrounded you, his body heat radiating as you awkwardly settled onto his lap, your knees pressing against his thighs.

As the car began to roll out of the driveway, you couldn’t help but wonder how the next two hours would go. With your body pressed against his in such close quarters, you already knew this ride was about to be more intense than you had anticipated.

—

The car jolted again, tires thudding hard against another bump in the dirt road. You barely had time to brace yourself before you were airborne for half a second, and then gravity pulled you right back down—right onto Chan’s lap.

“Fuck—” he muttered under his breath, his arms tightening around your waist like a seatbelt.

“I told you I could sit on the floor,” you huffed, adjusting your grip on the headrest in front of you. Not that it helped. The moment you settled, another jolt sent you sliding again, your thigh catching between his legs.

He let out a strained breath through his nose. “Yeah, and then you’d crack your head open on the cooler.”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, but all you caught was the flush creeping up his neck, the way his jaw clenched as you shifted again. His hands were splayed wide at your hips now, thumbs dangerously close to the hem of your shorts.

The stack of luggage separating the rest of the car felt like a wall of denial at this point—just you and Chan back here, locked in your own little pressure cooker.

“I didn’t think the road would be this bad,” you muttered, trying to lift yourself up a little, as if giving him space would help.

It didn’t. The next bump had you bouncing straight back down, and this time you felt it—hard. Solid. Pressed right beneath you.

Chan’s breath hitched audibly.

You froze. “Was that—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, voice low, jaw clenched tight. “Don’t move.”

You didn’t move. But your breathing changed—deeper, shallower, uneven.

Neither of you spoke.

Chan’s hands were still on your hips, firm, fingers twitching like they were debating a very stupid decision. His voice came again, low and rough near your ear.

“I’m serious. Don’t move.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

Another bump. Smaller this time, but it still rocked you just enough. Your body shifted instinctively, trying to find balance—and there it was again. Hard and growing.

“Fuck, y/n…” he hissed under his breath. You felt the heat in your face instantly.

“I—Chan, I didn’t—”

He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to your shoulder for a second. “I know you didn’t. But you’re not making this easy.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t realize sitting on you would be this… distracting.”

He chuckled dryly, but it sounded strained, barely holding back. “Yeah well… your shorts aren’t doing a very good job of hiding anything. And I can feel everything.”

You clenched your thighs instinctively. He felt everything?

“I’m wearing thongs,” you muttered, voice barely a whisper.

His fingers dug into your hips. Just a bit. “Yeah. I noticed.”

The road jolted again, and you bounced once more—this time straight back with your ass grinding down just enough to make him curse through gritted teeth.

You froze, then slowly turned your head, eyes catching his. His gaze was dark, intense, and hungry.

“You keep doing that and I’m gonna fuck around and embarrass myself,” he murmured.

Your heart was pounding now, heat pooling low in your belly. “Maybe I don’t want you to hold back.”

His breath caught.

For a second, the only sound in the car was the rattle of loose camping gear and the hum of tires over uneven ground.

Then his grip on you changed—firmer, more possessive. “Say that again.”

You looked at him over your shoulder. “Maybe I want to fuck around and embarrass yourself?”

That was it.

Chan’s mouth was at your neck a second later, hot breath dragging over your skin. He didn’t kiss you—yet—but his hands were sliding up under the hem of your tank, palms rough and warm as they grazed the bare skin of your waist.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby girl,” he murmured. “You keep grinding like that and I’m not just gonna sit here and behave.”

Another bump. Another grind. This time you didn’t try to stop it.

“We’ve got two hours,” you whispered. “Make them worth it.”

The next time the car rocked, you felt it—all of it. His cock, thick and hard, trapped beneath the thin fabric of his shorts. And with how your own had bunched up so high from all the jostling, your skin was nearly bare against him. Nothing but your thin thong and the soft cotton of his shorts in between.

Your breath hitched. He groaned. Loud.

The bass from the radio swallowed it whole.

“You feel that?” he muttered near your ear, voice dark and ragged. “Feel what you’re doing to me?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

Another dip in the road—thud—and your body rocked again, thighs spread just a little wider by the movement, ass grinding down like it had a mission. You weren’t even trying to tease him now; the road was doing it for you.

But Chan was suffering. His jaw was tight, his knuckles white where he gripped your waist like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity.

“Your shorts…” he rasped. “They’re so—fuck, baby, they’re riding up so high I can see your ass.”

You whimpered, heat spiraling through you.

“I can feel everything,” he growled, pressing his hips up just slightly. That movement alone made your body shudder. “Your thong… you’re so soft, and the way you’re moving on me—”

Another bump. This one dragged you back along his lap before slamming you forward again—your bare ass grinding across the full length of his cock like a sin you couldn’t take back.

Chan groaned. Louder this time, but the music masked it again. The beat thrummed through the car like a countdown to your unraveling.

“I can’t take this,” he hissed. “You keep moving like that and I’m gonna fuckin’—”

“Then do something,” you whispered. “Touch me.”

His fingers trembled on your waist. He dragged them lower, just a little—pads brushing over the waistband of your shorts, thumbs dipping beneath, teasing the edges of your thong.

“You’re not gonna stop me?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all he needed.

His hand slipped down, just one. Slowly. Carefully. Until his fingertips grazed between your thighs—where the fabric was soaked.

“Shit.” He exhaled, voice cracked. “You’re dripping.”

You clenched around nothing, thighs tightening.

“You want me to keep going?” he asked, voice filthy-soft.

You didn’t trust yourself to answer. You just arched your hips back—grinding into his palm, into the thickness straining beneath you.

His fingers pushed your thong to the side. Bare skin met bare skin. Heat met heat.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting back a groan as his finger traced the crease where your inner thigh met your heat.

You wanted to say something—but then he did it.

One arm curled tightly around your waist. The other moved fast. In a swift, practiced motion, he lifted your hips just barely—just enough—and shoved one leg of his own shorts up, freeing himself.

You didn’t even have time to react.

He was bare. Thick. Hot. His cock rested heavy and flushed against his stomach for a beat before he guided it—down. Right where you’d just been sitting.

Then he slowly lowered you back onto him.

You gasped.

There was no warning. No barrier. Just the thin strip of your soaked thong and his bare length pressing directly beneath you—so warm, so hard, the tip catching against the curve of your ass, dragging sinfully along your folds with the slightest motion.

“Holy shit,” Chan choked out, one hand clutching your hip, the other gripping the seat beside him. “You feel that?”

You nodded wordlessly, mouth parted, hips frozen.

“Don’t move,” he groaned. “Just—fuck, don’t move.”

But then the car hit another rut.

You dropped onto him with a jolt, your body sliding back and forth over his cock. No fabric. No friction buffer. Just sinful, desperate rubs with every bounce of the wheels.

Chan growled, low and guttural.

“Fucking hell, baby girl, you’re gonna make me lose it.”

Your hands gripped the back of the headrest in front of you, legs trembling as each bump dragged you across him again—tip gliding between your folds, shaft grinding against the soaked thong and swollen skin. It was torture. Hot, slow, overwhelming torture.

“I can feel your slit every time,” he rasped against your neck. “You’re soaked, baby. Your pussy’s just rubbing all over my cock like you want me to slide right in—”

You whimpered. The music thumped around you. No one could hear. No one knew. But you were unraveling—both of you were.

Two hours of this? There was no way you’d survive.

The next bump sent another long, dragging rub down the length of his cock—and this time, you didn’t even pretend it was an accident.

You shifted your hips, tilted just slightly forward, and then rolled them back—slow and deliberate.

Chan let out a strangled, broken sound behind you. “Baby girl… don’t do that.”

You did it again.

His hands flew to your hips like magnets, gripping tight—but he didn’t stop you. He couldn’t. Not when your soaked thong was leaving a hot, sticky trail with every slide along his shaft.

“I thought you said not to move,” you whispered, leaning back into his chest like you hadn’t just destroyed every ounce of his control.

“I did,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck. “And now look what you’ve done.”

You rolled your hips again, slow and sensual—smearing yourself along his cock, soaking him with your arousal. The movement pressed your bare ass tighter against his lower stomach, letting you feel just how wet you were making him.

He hissed, head dropping back against the seat. “You’re so fucking wet, baby. I can feel it all over me.”

You shivered at the sound of his voice—low, desperate.

“I want your hands,” you said quietly.

His eyes snapped open, dark and wild. “Where?”

You guided one hand up beneath your tank top. His palm was rough, fingers wide as they skimmed the soft skin just beneath your chest. You arched into his touch, and he groaned again, fingertips brushing the underside of your breasts.

“No bra?” he rasped, voice cracking.

“Too hot,” you whispered, and then ground against him again, dragging your soaked core along his length.

His other hand slipped down, fingers trailing over the curve of your thigh, then back up under the edge of your bunched-up shorts—cupping your ass. Skin on skin.

He groaned like a man starving.

“I could come just from this,” he muttered, lips ghosting your shoulder. “Just from the way you’re grinding on me. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

You kept moving—slow, calculated circles of your hips, soaking his cock in your slick, never letting him push inside. Not yet.

“Touch me more,” you breathed, and his hands obeyed instantly.

One slid up higher under your tank, finally palming your breast, thumb flicking gently over the nipple until you gasped. The other massaged your ass, squeezing and pulling, guiding your grind like he was trying to memorize the way your body felt on top of him.

The road kept jerking you, bump after bump, each one adding to the torture.

He was soaked now—shaft glistening with your arousal, tip slick and nudging against your entrance every now and then, tempting fate.

“You don’t want me to put it in?” he asked, voice hoarse. “Not even a little?”

“I want your fingers first,” you said. “I want you to feel what you’re doing to me.”

Chan swore under his breath. You felt his hand dip lower, slide between your thighs—and then two fingers, warm and strong, brushed over your slit.

You were dripping.

“Holy shit, baby…” His breath caught. “You’re soaking through the seat.”

And then he slid one finger along your folds, slow and reverent. Just barely teasing. Just enough to make you lose your mind.

You moaned softly, head tilting back, and his lips caught your neck. “You gonna let me play with you back here, princess? Gonna let me see how wet you get before I fuck you stupid?”

You didn’t answer. You just kept grinding—slow and sinful—while his fingers slipped beneath your thong and finally, finally, sank inside.

His fingers were deep inside you now—slow, torturous. He worked you with careful precision, like he was studying every little shiver your body gave, every breath you took. Your hips ground down harder, desperate for more, but he just pulled back, not letting you feel the deep, punishing stroke you needed.

You were soaked. So fucking soaked it was obscene. The sounds of your wetness mixed with the sound of the car’s engine humming beneath you, but all you could focus on was him—his fingers buried inside, curling against you just enough to make you ache for more.

“God, baby…” Chan muttered, his voice strained, low and ragged. “You’re so tight, I can barely move inside you. Just a little… fuck, just a little bit more—”

You whined as his thumb brushed your clit, the sensation so damn good that you nearly bucked right off his lap.

“Chan…” you whimpered, voice breathless, “please…”

He didn’t answer. He just moved faster, fingers sinking deeper, thrusting in and out of you in a slow rhythm that matched the uneven speed of the car. Every bump seemed to push you closer to the edge, making you grip his arm tighter, your body trembling as you ground yourself against him again, dragging your soaked thong along his hard cock with every movement.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he groaned in your ear, his lips brushing your skin as he leaned in, his free hand massaging your breast again, squeezing the soft flesh, rolling your nipple between his fingers. “All this wetness… all this for me? For just my fingers, baby girl?”

Your eyes closed, head tipping back as you lost yourself in the sensation. The way his fingers moved, the way his thumb circled your clit, the way he was slowly unraveling you from the inside out. You couldn’t stop grinding against him, the friction driving you crazy.

“More,” you whispered, needing it. “Please, more.”

But Chan’s pace stayed maddeningly slow, deliberately pulling away just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted—not yet.

“You want more?” he teased, voice thick with desire. “Tell me how bad you want it. Beg for it.”

You moaned, grinding harder against his hand, your hips moving as if they had a mind of their own now. “Chan, please. Please… don’t stop, I need more.”

A satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he added a second finger. The stretch burned, but it was delicious—perfect—and you gasped in response.

“There we go,” he murmured, his fingers working in and out of you in a steady rhythm. “Let me hear those pretty sounds. Let me feel how wet you are for me.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. You bucked your hips, fucking yourself against his hand, your body pushing harder into him, desperate for that sweet release that was slowly building. You were so close—so close you could taste it.

His fingers moved faster, deeper. His thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit, and that was all it took. The sensation built higher, tighter, until you exploded, hips jerking violently as you came on his fingers, your body trembling with every aftershock.

Chan groaned, voice low and guttural. “Fuck. You’re so fucking beautiful when you come on my fingers.”

But you weren’t done yet.

You stayed there, breathless, shuddering in his arms, your body still writhing from the intensity of the orgasm. You could feel his cock, hard and aching beneath you, and you needed it. You wanted to feel him—more than anything.

But the road kept shaking, throwing you in and out of his lap, teasing you further.

“Please, Chan,” you whimpered, fingers gripping his wrist, pulling his hand away just enough to feel the tip of his cock brushing against your slick folds. “Please… let me ride you. I need you.”

His eyes darkened, breath ragged. “You’re gonna kill me, baby girl, but yeah… yeah, let’s make it happen.”

One hand slid between your thighs. Found the edge of your thong. Tugged it aside.

“Chan—” “I need you.”

And then—he was there.

Hot, thick, and bare, pressing against your entrance. You tried to shift forward but his arm wrapped tight around your waist and dragged you back, slow and steady, until he was buried inside you.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. You could feel every inch of him, the stretch delicious, dizzying. He was deep—too deep for a position like this—but you were soaked and desperate and clenching around him like he belonged there.

His breath stuttered behind you. “Jesus—you’re so fucking warm.”

You nodded, dazed, forehead against the window as you tried to keep quiet. The van hit another bump. You rocked forward, then back—impaling yourself even deeper. He groaned through clenched teeth.

“Keep doing that,” he whispered. “Fuck, ride me. Just like that. Slow.”

Your hips obeyed before your brain caught up. Rocking in tiny, aching rolls, grinding down on him with each jolt of the van. Every breath was ragged, every movement a gamble.

And right on the other side of those boxes?

Hyunjin hummed along with the music.

Still completely unaware that you were fucking yourself on his leader.

Slow, careful, desperate.

Chan’s cock was buried inside you, pulsing with every clench of your walls. His hands were locked around your waist, trying to hold you still, failing miserably. Every bump of the road pushed you deeper, every sway of the van had your breath catching.

He was too hot. Too hard. And you were soaking him—your thighs slick, his jeans drenched at the crotch where your arousal was leaking down his length.

“This is so fucked,” you whispered, barely audible over the hum of the tires and the loud music from the radio. “We’re gonna get caught—”

“No one’s watching,” he growled into your ear, voice thick with lust. “They don’t even know. You’re doing so good, baby. Just keep going.”

You whimpered. Baby.

He’d never called you that before this car ride. Never held you like this, whispered filth into your skin with his cock so deep inside you that your toes curled. You were always part of the gang, like one of the boys.

The box next to you shifted again. For a split second, you thought Hyunjin had moved—your heart stopped, but he didn’t stir. Still slumped with headphones in, face turned toward the window.

“Ride me slower,” Chan whispered, lips brushing the back of your neck. “Nice and quiet. Can’t let them hear how wet you are, right?”

You nodded frantically, already lifting your hips with agonizing slowness before dropping back down—just a little. Just enough to make him shudder.

“Oh my God,” he groaned softly, teeth grazing your shoulder. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

You were trembling. Your thighs, your stomach, your voice—it was all unraveling. The tightness in your belly coiled sharper every time he bottomed out inside you, the base of him grinding against your slick folds, your clit catching against the rough fabric of his jeans.

You wanted more.

You wanted everything.

“Touch me,” you whispered. “Please—Chan—”

His hand slid between your thighs so fast it made your breath catch. Two fingers on your clit, slow circles, slick with your own arousal. You bucked in his lap, nearly gasped—but his hand clamped over your mouth just in time.

“Shhh, baby. I know. I know it’s too much.”

His other hand curled tighter around your waist, guiding you now—fucking you onto him with every soft thrust. You were close. So close.

“You gonna cum for me?” he murmured, filthy and sweet. “On my cock like this, while everyone’s right here? You want that?”

You nodded, eyes wide, thighs trembling. You couldn’t speak—not with his hand over your mouth, not with his cock dragging against that spot inside you that made everything go hazy.

“That’s it,” he whispered, desperate now. “Be good and cum for me. Let me feel it—fuck—please.”

Your vision blurred. The tension snapped. You came with a silent scream, clenching so hard around him that his breath hitched and his hips stuttered.

“Fuuuck—” he groaned, voice ragged. “I’m gonna—shit, I can’t hold it—”

He thrusted up once, twice—and then he was spilling inside you. Hot, thick, filling you to the brim while his head dropped against your shoulder and his entire body went taut.

You both froze. Still joined. Still breathing hard. Still soaking.

Silence.

Then—

“…Yo, you guys alive back there?” Jisung called from the front. “You’ve been quiet as hell.”

You panicked, heart in your throat—but Chan didn’t even flinch.

“Yeah,” he called back, perfectly calm. “She fell asleep on me.”

You choked out a laugh against his palm, breathless, still trembling.

“Cutest little angel,” he added, loud enough for everyone to hear, while he was still buried deep inside you and your ruined panties were sticking to your thigh.

You were going straight to hell. But at least Chan was going with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: so i’m back with more Channir filth 😂 you know the drill guys, engage! Also this comes with a part 2 so lets get atleast 150 notes before i upload the second part!

Thanks for following guys! I cant believe we’re already over 450 in less than two months! 😭❤️ please continue to drop your likes and reblog, for motivation!

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Girl

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bang Chan loves making full use of his Stray Kids leader money—especially when it comes to her.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, blowjobs, handjobs (you know… all the jobs), lingerie, daddy kink

A/N: Other members were requested! Lmk which Member you desire next.

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Hyunjin

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Bang Chan wasn’t just her boyfriend.

He was her provider. Her protector.

It didn’t matter that he was knee-deep in deadlines, producing tracks until sunrise, answering five calls at once, and coaching the younger members like a seasoned general—

────୨ৎ────

The fur coat was stunning. Hand-delivered from Milan.

Not just fur. Cruelty-free, custom dyed in her favorite shade, with a golden nameplate on the inside that read:

“For my queen. - BC”Real Fendi. Snow leopard print, soft as sin, the kind of thing only his girl could pull off. She hadn’t even asked for it—just sighed once at a photo on her phone—and now it was hanging in her closet like it had always belonged there.

“I just mentioned it once,” she breathed, stunned.

“You don’t mention things to me, baby,” Chan said with a lazy smirk from the doorway, sleeves rolled, veins prominent, eyes dark. “You make declarations. And Daddy listens.”

────୨ৎ────

He was at the studio when she sent him the mirror selfie. Her in the coat, nothing underneath but lace.

Chan nearly groaned aloud, biting his lip as he watched the photo load. It was late, everyone else had gone home, but he was still at the mixer, sleeves rolled up, chest heaving with the weight of his next verse.

And now? Now he was hard.

He called her immediately.

“You tryin’ to kill me, princess?” he murmured, voice already thick. “You really put that on while I’m here working?”

She giggled sweetly. “I missed you.”

Chan’s response was immediate. “Stay right there. Don’t take it off. I’ll be home in fifteen.”

When he got back, she was waiting.

She was lounging on their bed, that coat slipping off one shoulder, her lips glossy, eyes wide and waiting. Chan stood in the doorway, jaw clenched, watching her like he hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Come here.”

She obeyed instantly, crawling to him on all fours, the coat dragging behind her like a queen’s train.

He caught her chin between his fingers when she reached him, lifting her face to meet his eyes. “You know what this coat means, don’t you?”

She nodded. “That I’m yours.”

“No, baby,” he corrected, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. “That you’re my only. And I take care of what’s mine.”

────୨ৎ────

There were perks to dating the leader of Stray Kids.

Like when she wanted a quiet date night, and Chan rented out an entire theater. Not just the movie—they projected a montage of her favorite K-dramas, edited together by a professional team he personally directed.

While she sat curled up in her fur, eating popcorn from a crystal bowl, Chan lounged beside her in joggers and a tight black tee, arm around her shoulder, legs spread like he owned the whole damn city.

Because he did. When it came to her—he did.

“Everyone should know what kind of taste my baby has,” he murmured against her temple. “And no one gets to enjoy it but me.”

────୨ৎ────

Her nails were fresh.

Long, almond-shaped, with crushed diamonds embedded in a sheer pink base. Chan had flown in a nail tech from Japan who only did private celebrity sessions. She didn’t even ask. He just made it happen.

He watched her trace a finger down his chest one night, those expensive nails glinting in the warm bedroom light.

“You like them?” she whispered.

Chan didn’t answer with words.

He grabbed her by the wrist, pressed her palm flat against his abs, and dragged it slowly lower until her hand was resting right over the hard bulge in his sweats.

“I paid for those hands,” he growled, voice thick. “Now put ‘em to work, princess.”

Her fingers twitched against the heavy outline in his sweats. He was already hard, aching, and she could feel the heat through the fabric—how thick he was, how much he needed her.

She didn’t rush.

Instead, she trailed her nails—slowly, teasingly—up his length, letting the crushed diamonds scrape softly through the cotton. Just enough to make him hiss.

Chan’s jaw tightened. “Don’t play.”

But she only smiled, sinking to her knees between his legs, those glossy, dangerous nails curling under the waistband of his sweats and pulling them down with a drag so slow it felt like torture.

His cock sprang free—heavy, flushed, leaking.

And her breath hitched at the sight.

All that for her.

She wrapped one manicured hand around him—delicate, expensive fingers closing around his base like they were sculpted for this. He groaned low, head falling back, and the sound made her clench.

She stroked him slow. Luxurious. Worshipful. Letting her rings clink softly with every glide. Her thumb swiped across the tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum with a practiced motion, her other hand resting light on his thigh, nails biting down with each twitch of his hips.

He looked down at her, eyes blazing.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “Spoiled little thing… working Daddy’s cock like a fucking jewel thief.”

She grinned—wicked and proud—and twisted her wrist just how she knew he liked it. Grip just right. Pressure perfect. The way only she knew how to do.

And when his hips started to stutter, when he cursed under his breath in three different languages, she leaned in and whispered, sweet and smug:

“Wanna come for me, Daddy? All over the hands you bought?”

His groan broke in his throat.

And seconds later, he did.

────୨ৎ────

Studio nights weren’t quiet anymore.

Sometimes, she came barefoot, wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies and nothing else, curling up on the sofa while he clicked through beats. Sometimes, she sprawled across his lap, thighs bare, pressing lazy kisses to his throat while he adjusted synth levels like it was just another Tuesday.

“Need to focus, sweetheart,” he’d murmur—but his hand would already be gripping her thigh, stroking slow circles, letting her know she was welcome anywhere he was.

She slid under the console like she belonged there, eyes glinting in the dim studio lights, lips already parted.

He didn’t say a word. Just let out a breath and leaned back slightly in the chair, the hand not working the mixer dropping to the side—to her.

She unzipped him slow. Silently. Pulled him out with both hands like unwrapping a gift she already knew by heart.

He was half-hard already. That changed the moment her warm breath ghosted over the tip.

She started with his balls—because she liked to tease. Wet, open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin. Tongue tracing slow circles. Gentle sucks, one after the other, until his thighs twitched and his breath caught in the mic.

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, barely audible.

She giggled against him.

And then she moved up.

Took the tip between her lips. Swirled her tongue around it like candy. Then sank down in one long, greedy motion—until he hit the back of her throat.

Chan slammed his hand on the desk, pretending it was about a track beat.

In reality, he was struggling not to thrust into her mouth.

She set a rhythm—slow, wet, deliberate. Hands twisting at the base, spit dripping onto her fingers as she bobbed her head. Every time she hollowed her cheeks and moaned around him, his grip on the chair tightened.

“You’re insane,” he rasped, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m working—”

She pulled off with a pop. Whispered, “Then work, Daddy. I’ll just keep your stress levels down.”

And went right back down on him.

Deeper this time. No mercy. Her nails dug into his thighs while her tongue worked underneath, tip pressed into that sensitive spot beneath the head. She sucked like she was trying to milk him, and Chan was fucking losing it.

When she went back to his balls—licking, sucking, slurping—and stroked him at the same time?

That’s when he came. Hard. Into her mouth, into her throat, with his head thrown back and a low growl muffled by his sleeve.

She swallowed everything.

And when she came back up from under the desk, licking her lips like she’d just come back from brunch.

────୨ৎ────

When she missed him during tour, she didn’t cry. She waited—with full trust that he would make it up to her.

And oh, he did.

The moment he stepped through the door, he lifted her up, walked her straight to the bed, and unwrapped her like a present.

“My good girl,” he whispered, voice rough, eyes dark with hunger. “Waited so sweet for me.”

She moaned as his hands explored her body like it had been years, not weeks. His thrusts were punishing, praise spilling out between every deep stroke, his voice laced with so much heat and pride, it broke her open.

“Missed this pussy,” he growled. “Missed my perfect, spoiled baby.”

────୨ৎ────

Once, a stylist made the mistake of telling her she “looked expensive.”

Chan had overheard. And later that night, he chuckled as he kissed her bare shoulder and whispered:

“She is expensive. And I’m the only one who can afford her.”

────୨ৎ────

Chan knew she didn’t love him for the money. Not the furs, not the jewels, not the VIP service that followed her around like a shadow.

She loved him.

It was in the way she waited for him to get home, curled up on the couch in his hoodie, sleepy-eyed and soft. In the way she packed snacks for the studio because she knew he’d forget. In the soft kiss she left on his temple every morning before he woke up.

And God—when she showed up at the studio late at night, just to sit quietly and wait?

That did him in.

She’d curl up on the studio couch, that coat wrapped around her, half-asleep but still humming along to the beat he was mixing. No complaints. No demands. Just there for him.

That was why he spoiled her. That was why he had to.

Because she was more than his girl.

She was his Life.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

@sapphirewaves @bemyaehiweloveskz @velvetmoonlght

[seospicybin]

Hey, glad you bumped into my fic and enjoyed it! Thank you for reading 🥰

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART I

Bangchan x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)

Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x

It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.

The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that

So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.

"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.

Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.

However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.

The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.

The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.

"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.

"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.

Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.

"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.

Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.

"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."

The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"

"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.

The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.

"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.

"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.

"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.

"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.

"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.

"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.

The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"

"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"

"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."

"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.

Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.

"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.

"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.

Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.

-

The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.

In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.

From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.

Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.

"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"

"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.

Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.

"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.

You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.

"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.

"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"

"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.

"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.

"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.

"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."

The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.

"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.

Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.

"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.

"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.

To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.

"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.

It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.

He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.

"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.

There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.

There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"

Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.

He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.

"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"

When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.

"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.

"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."

With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"

It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.

"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.

"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.

It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.

"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.

It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.

When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.

When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.

"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.

Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.

-

Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.

All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area

So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?

It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.

Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.

There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.

But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.

Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!

Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.

As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!

Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.

With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.

Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.

The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.

Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.

You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.

"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.

The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.

"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"

"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"

Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...

"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.

"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.

"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.

The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.

Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.

Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.

He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.

He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.

"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.

Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.

Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.

"Is that for me?"

The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.

"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.

"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."

See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.

"Thank you," you add with a smile.

Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.

Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.

"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.

"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.

It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.

"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"

You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.

"Milk would be nice," he answers.

"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.

You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.

You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.

"Oh?" You meekly gasp.

"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.

"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."

"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.

You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.

"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.

Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.

The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.

"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.

That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.

"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."

Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.

"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.

You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."

"How long you've been dating each other?"

"Three years," you answer.

"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.

Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.

"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.

"My help?"

"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.

"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.

It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."

Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.

"I guess you want to let him down gently?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."

Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.

"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.

"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.

Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.

"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.

"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.

"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.

You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.

"She already left," you tell him.

Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.

"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.

"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.

You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.

"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.

The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.

The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.

"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.

"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.

Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.

Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.

"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.

"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.

"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.

It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.

"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.

Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.

"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.

Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.

"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.

Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.

"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.

"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."

Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.

"We can practice, you know," he offers.

"Practice?"

"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.

He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.

The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.

"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.

Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door

-

Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.

The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.

The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.

"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"

Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.

"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.

"That sounds nice," you easily respond.

"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?

"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.

"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."

You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.

"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.

"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.

"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"

"So glad," you lie, again and again.

"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"I won't."

"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.

The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."

"I love you, bye."

Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.

Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"

"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.

It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.

You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.

"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.

He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."

You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.

However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.

"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"

Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.

The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.

"Get it together!" You scold yourself.

After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.

"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.

"Hardly," he jokes.

You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.

"Okay, so, why am I here?"

You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."

It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.

"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.

"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"

You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.

"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.

Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.

"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.

"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.

It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.

"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."

Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.

Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.

"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.

"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.

Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.

"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.

"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.

The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.

He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."

You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.

He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.

"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.

It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.

-

It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.

Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.

Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.

But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.

"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.

You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.

Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.

"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.

Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.

"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.

"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.

"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.

"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.

You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.

"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.

"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"

The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.

Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.

From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.

"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.

"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.

Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.

The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.

You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.

He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.

"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."

Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.

To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.

As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.

He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.

As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.

"I want this, Chris," you croak.

"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.

"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.

You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.

"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.

He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.

"Yes," you answer without a beat.

That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.

Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.

Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.

He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.

He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.

To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.

"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.

"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.

The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.

At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.

"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.

Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.

You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.

Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.

The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.

He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.

Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.

He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.

On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.

He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.

Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.

You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.

He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.

"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.

You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.

Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.

"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.

It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.

Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.

"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.

Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.

He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.

As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.

He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.

"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.

Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.

A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.

The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.

Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.

"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.

Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.

"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.

He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.

He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.

The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.

"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.

"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.

"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.

Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.

-

A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.

He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.

Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.

Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.

Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.

At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.

Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.

You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.

Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.

"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.

"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.

Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.

"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.

"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."

Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"

"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.

"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.

You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.

"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.

Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.

"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.

He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."

You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.

You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.

You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.

There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.

He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"

You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.

Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.

The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.

His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"

"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."

And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?

Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.

"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.

You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.

Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.

That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.

-

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