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kaiso-woo · 1 year ago

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First for Everything

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-> Masterlist

PART 9 of my ‘Stay Series’ - a long hypothesised journey of a relationship between Bang Chan and Reader. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING PART 8 FIRST, it'll be more satisfying.

WC: 3.3k | Synopsis: Hm so... sidong georeo noko oneul bamdo drive~ for the first time? Like it's more so just the foreplay, I don't actually write the swiji anko dallyeo feel the heat inside~ part, and then there's the aftermath.

Notes: Borderline Smut (foreplay-ish?, anyone else hot or is it just me?), Kisses- uh uhm yeah, Fluff, Second Person Narration, Skz Fluent in English, Swearing, Idol!Chan, CaféOwner!Reader, Fem!Reader, Pet Names (Jagiya, Jagi, Baby, Babe, Love... etc.)

Here for a reading marathon? Head right back to the start!

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Overall ‘Stay Series’ Synopsis: Bang Chan experiences the suic!des of Stays, so when you lot choose to die, he dies right along with you. Reader is the “antidote” to this condition - NO MENTION IN THIS FIC

PART 9

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

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You smile and pick up your pen once more, scribbling down some carefully chosen words. Beside you, a slight breeze ruffles the curtains, the suns glow warming you as you work. This is perhaps, the worst part about opening up a new Café in Korea: the financing. Café Studio has never been more successful, and at the behest of your boyfriend, you decided to expand – “You should set one up in Korea baby, then you can work in that one and I get to see you all the time.”

Now you were here, in Korea, almost completely set up and ready to go. Chris is with you today, deciding that he'd rather work on a few things in the comfort of your house rather than at JYPE. One of the many benefits of moving to Korea - now he's practically around the corner. His nights as of late have been split fairly evenly between working away at JYPE, hanging out at his dorm, and snuggling away with you at home.

You stretch and turn around in your comfy swivel chair to watch the man in question on the couch. He’s humming quietly as he clicks away on his computer, occasionally pausing with a crinkle of his forehead as he listens to the track through his headphones.

Your head curiously tilts to the side, watching his fingers smoothly type, then pause to click the mouse, and then you watch as he rubs his face, stressed and displeased with his progress. Chris groans, tears his headphones off his head and flops back into the couch dejectedly, a feeble whine of frustration escaping his plush lips.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to stop yourself from nagging him about how he works too hard. He will always work hard, as will you, and he needed to stop procrastinating as well. The downside to him being home with you was that he would prefer to snuggle with you and spend time with you rather than keep up with his work. He’s been yours for a couple of years now, and he takes every opportunity he can to stay by your side, increasingly so, craving your affection.

Chris hears your discontent, and his head snaps up. He drags a hand through his fluffy hair with wide eyes and a questioning smile, “You good?”

He chuckles at your silence and his characteristic smile morphs into a silly grin, happy to simply have your attention. The fluttering warmth that floods through your soul threatens to overflow, and it is with every last piece of self-restraint that you force yourself to nod, instead of abandoning your work and joining him for a cuddle on the couch.

For a minute, the both of you just stare at each other. You can see the amused glimmer in his dark eyes distinctly, and it only intensifies when he raises his eyebrows and slides his computer off his lap onto the couch. He pushes himself up and slowly walks over to you, stopping in front of your chair so you have to crane your neck slightly to look up at him properly. You remain silent as he stares down at you, analysing you perhaps.

He grabs the back of your chair and swivels you around so you’re facing your paper work again abruptly. “Go back to your work,” Chris laughs, cheekily ruffling your hair and messing it up thoroughly. You huff and try to spin around again, but he’s preventing you from doing so, his strong hands vice-like on the chair.

“You’re supposed to be my boyfriend. Not my Dad. Quit telling me what to do,” you whine, knowing full well that he has every right to tell you what to do. He laughs again, and the genuine sound sends chills sprinting up your spine. “I’ll tell Jack to message you then. He’ll tell you to get back to work.” Chris snickers, and you freeze, slowly lowering your pen onto the desk.

“Jack… isn’t my Dad either,” you murmur, and Chris leans in, wrapping his arms around your neck loosely and placing his chin on your head. “He’s my Dad, so that means he’s yours too. Well… at least soon he will be,” you can hear his smile as he says this, and your brain is abruptly encased in ice. He really needs to stop joking about this - my fucking god.

“You… smooth… fucker…” you mumble, trying to cover up your sudden incapability to function as a human being. He's basically proposed... for the hundredth time... Chris spins you around to face him, one of his arms shifting to push up against the desk behind you so he’s leaning over you. Your lungs stop working as he draws even closer, his breath tickling your ear. “Glad to know you think I’d be a smooth fucker,” he whispers seductively, and your heart must've gotten stuck in your throat, because you're incapable of speaking.

Chris moves so that his nose brushes yours gently, his eyes piercing your own, mischievous at the sight of the blush spreading from your cheeks to your ears. “Maybe later we can find out if I’m as smooth as you think,” he continues, before softly kissing you, the plus of his lips moulding comfortably with yours, a lingering taste of pineapple letting you know he's recently been drinking the juice.

A/N: I am fed up. The amount of time's I've gone to punch something is innumerable. Someone be this smooth with me, come on.

Your mouth falls open as he moves away, back to his computer and his comfy couch, leaving the air around you sizzling with tense energy. The vacant spot in front of you, where he just was, feels awfully empty.

You’d think that you’d be used to this kind of thing by now, what with how often he's an atrocious tease, but you aren’t. You’ll never get used to his flirty ass.

Chris continues to work as if nothing happened, but after a minute, he realises you’re still sitting there, dumbstruck, and he slowly inhales... and exhales... his eyes fluttering closed. He clears his throat nervously, and your breath hitches in your throat when he chews his bottom lip, contemplating something. “Go back to your work babe. Please,” he sighs, with his eyes still closed. You shake yourself awake and order yourself to be a functioning fucking human being. Control yourself.

You fold your arms and cross one leg over the other, an eyebrow arching in defiance. “It is literally your fault that I stopped working,” you scowl, and his eyes flash open, the sudden intensity in his gaze causing you to jerk back in surprise. He stands up again and moves swiftly back towards you. “Up,” he commands. “Sorry, what?” “Get up. Out of the chair.”

You hesitantly stand up and step to the side, snorting in annoyance when Chris sits down in your recently vacated chair. “C’mere,” he murmurs, a determined gleam in his eyes. Your eyebrows quirk again, “I’m already here.” He offers a coy smile and his eyes narrow, “I mean… sit down.” (A/N: Be humble...)

“On… the floor?” You think you know where he’s going with this, and you’re not entirely sure you’re in the right head space to be sitting in his lap at the moment. “You really are stubborn,” he grins, shaking his head. You yelp as he promptly leans over and grabs you by the waist, pulling you towards him and forcing you to sit snugly in his lap. He rearranges himself so you’re sitting between his legs, and you squirm, trying to get comfortable. Chris inhales sharply and tenses around you. “Stop-” he chokes, hands tightening briefly around your waist, “mmhm- don’t do that.”

You freeze, and naturally, your head disappears straight into the gutter at his stuttered breathing. “Sorry- I didn’t mean to-” you begin, but he interrupts you, his thumbs caressing your hips gently. “Go on. Write. I’ll edit and help you along the way,” he mumbles, and you laugh, your embarrassment fading quickly. “What would you know about business reports?”

“Come on darling. I practically own Stray Kids, I think I know quite a bit,” he answers simply, a slight tone of exhaustion lingering in the air. You don’t know what to say in response to that, and even if 'practically owning Stray Kids' has anything to do with business reports, so instead you try to actually focus on your work. After a couple of minutes of blankly staring and writing down one word (‘and’), you sigh in defeat.

“How in the hell am I supposed to focus when you’re hugging me, and I’m sitting in your lap?” You grumble, but Chris just shrugs. “I dunno. Figure it out baby ‘cause I don’t plan on going anywhere.” You scowl at his response and rub your forehead in frustration, then decide to give up completely. Your pen drops to the desk with a clatter, and you flop back to rest your head on Chris’ shoulder, curling up slightly and burying your nose in the crook of his neck.

You inhale his vanilla under toned scent and sigh in content. His arms snake around your waist to hug you properly, and you hear him moan slightly as your breath tickles his neck, tiny little goosebumps on his skin blurred in your vision. After a small smile, you press a chaste kiss to his neck, and his exhale is stuttered again, his chest falling in an awkwardly disjointed manner.

Chris’ hands unexpectedly slip under your sweater, and you shiver at the sudden contact. He begins to rub absent circles on your skin, and you hum appreciatively. “Feels nice…” you whisper and Chris releases another shuddering breath. “Baby, I think- I think it might be best if… if…” he begins, his voice quieter than usual. You raise your head and try to read his expression; distracted… and conflicted.

His soothing hand movements on your hip cease and he grips your sweater instead. He gulps and momentarily breaks eye contact, licking his lips nervously, before he stares at you again. His breathing is extremely controlled, and as you move to try and get off his lap his eyes flutter shut with a sharp intake of breath. Experimentally, you wriggle in his lap again, eyeing his expression. Chris throws his head back, something close to a whine escaping from his mouth, the sound shooting straight through to your core. "If you keep-" he begins, his eyes still screwed shut tightly, "If you keep-"

“Am I not allowed to move?” You ask curiously as he rubs his face vigorously. Oh you know you're not supposed to move. “Ah… no. No you can movuhmmmhm-" his sentence is cut short as you shift again, and he tilts his head up to stare at you, his gaze piercing, "You know exactly what you're fucking doing, don't you?"

A small smile cracks onto his face, his eyes shimmering, and your stomach erupts into butterflies at the sight. “Alright, well I’m getting kind of hot I might change…” you grin nervously, then hop off him as quickly as you can. You leave him on the spinning chair and walk over to your walk-in-wardrobe. As you do so, you hear Chris mumble something along the lines of “I’ll just… read over what you’ve done so far.”

As soon as you enter the confines of your wardrobe you sink down to the floor, your hands clutching your head, in a bit of a panic. What the fuck? Why are you- your brain is filled with way too many unholy thoughts all at once and you quietly scream. Stop. BUT HIS LAUGH- AND HIS HANDS- AND HIS LITTLE WHINE- AND HIS MOAN- AGHIOEHGOIEHOGIAEETIOASD! (A/N: Just like me fr). You take a deep breath and try to control your thoughts… and your hormones.

Once you feel calm enough you stand up and take your time to pick out a shirt and some shorts. You quickly slip into your shorts, remove your sweater and are reaching for your shirt when you hear the flutter of falling paper behind you. You swivel around and become a statue of Medusa’s when you notice Chris standing there; your pen hanging limply from his right hand, your paper works scattered sadly on the floor, his eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. “Fuck? I am so sorry-”

It’s not like you haven’t seen each other without a shirt on before, you’ve been together for a while already.

“Chris, it’s okay, it’s nothing you haven’t-” “You’re really not making this any easier for me,” he grumbles, and then suddenly he’s pressed up against you, pinning you to the wall with your hands above your head, his lips smashing into yours fiercely. He pulls away swiftly however, and your breaths mingle as he tilts his head, his eyes trained to your lips.

“Fuck,” he whispers again, and your heart threatens to implode as one of his hands lowers to cup your face, the other tightening around your wrists above your head. Carefully, his thumb caresses your bottom lip, pulling it downwards slightly, before he leans back in.

This time… when he presses his lips to yours, something snaps.

Chris pulls you closer, carefully sliding his knee between your thighs, shoving it harshly right up against your clothed heat, which throbs almost painfully thanks to the pressure and friction. Once the necessity for oxygen becomes too overwhelming, you separate, panting. Chris turns away from you and runs his hands through his hair again in a desperate panic. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck," he croaks, inhaling sharply.

Something is possessing you right now. Cause it’s not you. Surely. You step forwards and spin him around, snatching at his shirt to pull him in for more. Your body is moving on its own. You press yourself so close to him that Chris stumbles back slightly, but welcomes your hungry kisses all the same, just as eager, if not more so, his hands running rampant on your body.

You gasp as his hands shift to under your butt to hoist you up, squeezing it momentarily, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You wrap your legs around his waist, hand tangling swiftly into his hair, and he staggers out of your wardrobe, never breaking the kiss. His teeth graze your bottom lip, and you tug at his hair slightly in response, lost in the moment.

Chris abandons your lips to attack your neck, still stumbling around almost deliriously, trying to navigate his way across the bedroom. You moan and tilt your head slightly, trying to give him more access. "I love you," Chris breathes against your skin, before returning to suck on a particularly sensitive spot, "God I fucking love you."

Finally, you both topple onto your bed, the action causing your eyes to snap open as your back hits the silky covers. You’re met with two brown eyes staring down at you, two eyes dark with a foreign emotion. You press a hand to your chest, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart as Chris breathes heavily.

He watches you absently, then returns to kissing a hot trail on your neck and brushes your hair out the way as he moves slightly lower. You groan when he kisses a particularly sensitive area back on your neck, and Chris pauses, his hot breath fanning out on your skin. His eyes are trained on the same spot, and after a second, he leans back down to slowly kiss it, his delight evident in his sinful grin when his actions elicit the same sound from you.

Chris focuses his attention right there, his tongue swiping, teeth grazing, kisses digging deeper, harsher, sucking slightly, until there's a beautiful mark left behind. You're an absolute squirming mess below him.

Your hands shoot up to his head, burying them deep into his fluffy hair as his tongue swipes on your burning skin. “Chris…” you groan, as he takes a moment to admire the love bite he’s successfully left on your neck. Abruptly, he grabs your hand and places it on his chest. Your eyes widen as you feel his heartbeat, thumping just as fast as yours.

“Can… you feel… what you’re doing to me?” He mumbles, pulling your hand up to his mouth to kiss your fingertips softly. He lowers himself to kiss along your collarbones, then skips your bra and down to your stomach.

A/N: I can’t even fucking describe this shit right now. Where are my delulu pills?

A whimper escapes your mouth and your legs tighten around him, desperate for some friction. “Look… at what… you’re doing… to me…” Chris growls, each phrase punctuated by ravenous kisses that send a sparks running through you. Suddenly he collapses onto you, his head resting on your stomach, and you yelp in surprise. “Fucking hell. Baby, I cannot do this…” he whispers, his voice shaking.

You reach down to softly play with his hair, thinking. “You can’t do what?” You eventually ask and his head snaps up. “Do you really want me to answer that?” He whispers, his eyes clouded. Slowly, you nod and Chris pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, a mild glare on his face. The air is squished out of your gut as Chris presses on your stomach to move back up to your face, and his nose is brushes yours softly, your lips tingling as his breath falls back onto them.

He continues to whisper, eyeing your lips again, “Are you really sure… you want me to answer that?” He repeats and you gulp. “Yes-?” You answer but you’re immediately cut off by him closing the gap between your lips and kissing you hungrily.

“I cannot do this-” he kisses your jaw, “because I’m struggling to resist-” he kisses your lips, “the urge…” he moves down to your neck and kisses the already marked area. You hiss as he finishes his sentence, “to fuck you senseless…”.

A moan escapes you after Chris’ tongue flicks your lips. He’s moving from one place to the next so quickly it’s driving you positively insane. “Christ… topher…” you groan as he deepens the kiss, absolutely devouring you. You tug at his hair desperately and he chuckles, but his low chuckle turns into a shocking laugh, and he rolls off you, now lying beside you, staring angrily at the ceiling.

“Fuck I cannot do this!” He yells, his voice painfully cracking, half crying half laughing. You’re in a bit of a daze, your mind replaying the same scene over and over again. He wants to… to…

Chris releases an exasperated sigh and sits down on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. You hesitate, then make up your mind and turn your head to watch him.

“Why are you resisting?” You bite your lip anxiously when Chris completely freezes. You can’t even see him breathing. Then he responds, his voice muffled due to him refusing to remove his hands from his face, “My head says stop but my body clearly wants you.”

You sigh and crawl over to him, then grab a fistful of his hoodie and pull him back onto the bed. Now you’re looking at an upside-down version of Chris. You stare at each other hard, and you brush his hair away and kiss his forehead lovingly.

“Maybe you should ignore your head…” you whisper with a smile. “I don’t want- you said you were scared- what?” “I... want you too… I'm... I'm not scared anymore…” you reassure him and it’s amazing how quickly his mood switches up. In quick succession, he flips himself the right way and pushes you down onto your back. “Say that again,” he demands. “I'm not scared anymore?” You respond. “No… the other one… say it again…” “I... want you too…?”

His eyes flutter closed, and he takes a deep breath, “Are you… sure about this?” he quietly asks, hands scrunching the bed sheets anxiously. You smile softly at him and lean up to kiss his cheek gently, "I'm sure."

Chris' eyes flicker open hesitantly, and as he exhales, he dotingly tucks some of your hair behind your ear, "I'll look after you I promise. I'll be careful." "I know you will." He hesitates, his eyes searching yours desperately, "Fuck, baby I want you so badly but are you sure?"

You don't answer.

Instead, you pull him down and kiss him, your hands travelling along his chest to grab the hem of his hoodie. You pull it up and help him remove it. “You were right… it looks like I will find out if you’re a smooth fucker…” you grin, and Chris rolls his eyes. “I can be more than smooth, but that's for another time.”

You groan and try to roll over, but your face scrunches up when you realise that you can’t. For a moment you’re confused – then you notice the arms wrapped around you, preventing you from moving, and smile. Chris looks incredibly peaceful when he’s sleeping. You’d be content to just listen to his breathing for the entire day if given the opportunity.

Your mind begins to work through the haze of sleep, and your eyes widen, face heating up in seconds, remembering the events of that morning. You gasp, but quickly cover your mouth, not wanting to wake your boyfriend. It didn’t work. Chris grumbles and hugs you tighter, one of his eyes cracking open. “Good afternoon sunshine…” he mumbles, yawning. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…” you respond, guilt evident in your voice.

“Did you have a good nap, hmm…?” He asks, staring at you with a smirk on his face. “What- yes?” “Oh I bet it was good. Especially after-” You cover his mouth to stop him from speaking and wriggle out of his grip. Then you proceed to tumble out of the bed and stand up gingerly, planning on making your way to your wardrobe, again, for some fresh clothes.

You take a step and wince slightly – it hurts a bit. You can walk though, well- you can until Chris appears out of nowhere and scoops you up bridal style. “Are you okay? Was I too rough?” He asks worriedly, his eyes wide and panicked.

“No- no you weren't, I'm okay!” Is your instant reply, and a sly smirk emerges on Chris’ face, which of course, makes your heart seize. “I guess that means it's time for round two then baby,” he chuckles, dumping you back on the bed. You stare at him in astonishment. “Let me ruin you this time, sweetheart?"

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-> PART 10 -> Masterlist

A/N: Well then.

Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.

Until next read! - Kaisowoo

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