#bang Christopher chan

[chansdoll]

방찬 ─── cracks in the mirror

♡ pairing ៸៸ idol!chan x fem!reader genre ៸៸ angst, fluff ៸៸ cw ៸៸ ED behaviors mentioned , body image angst , weight loss mentions , mean girl mina , chan is sweet

♡ synopsis ៸៸ after a girl says something mean about your body at work, chan consoles you. [ part 2 ]

a/n ๑ i messed up the format please don't laugh at me

♡ masterlist

the work dynamic today was strange. you were working with your friends, han, changbin, and chan, helping out with music production and note taking. this was a normal day, or at least, it would have been, without mina present.

mina is.. to put it bluntly, the biggest pick-me-bitch you’d ever met. she was normally assigned to work with itzy on their productions, but this particular day, she needed to fill in for a staff member who couldn’t make it into work. she put on a facade around everyone else, but you saw her for what she really is, an emotional vampire, manipulative snake, and an attention whore. you realized it when she only talked to you when you were around the guys. 

you two were hired together, during a group interview process, and she was so nice to you.. until she found out you’d be the one working with stray kids. if you weren’t around the members, she’d be cold to you, never saying more than a few words to you before finding an excuse to get away from you. 

the way she acts alone would annoy any sane person, but it annoyed you times ten when you noticed the way she’d flirt with any male in her presence. especially chan, who you weren’t as close with, but you couldn’t help but gain some feelings for him while working for him, and though he almost never reciprocated the flirtation, you felt as though compared to her you stood no chance. 

and why is that? she was gorgeous. that, you couldn’t even deny. she was white, and she had blonde hair, striking blue eyes, which were framed by her long eyelashes. not to mention, she was skinny. she was the beauty standard. you had struggled with your weight your whole life. you were always the chubby kid in your class, the chubbiest out of your friends. you became accustomed to feeling inferior to basically any skinnier woman in your proximity. 

so, even though you extremely disliked mina, you couldn’t help but envy her. she was beautiful–physically flawless. imagine the disappointment you dealt with everyday knowing nobody else is aware of her wretched personality. 

the sad part was that you actually lost a significant amount of weight since then, but you still felt like the same girl you were in high school, extremely overweight and invisible. you weren’t skinny still by any means, but you were healthy, and that’s what’s most important. 

you mentally cursed to yourself as you looked at the time on your apple watch. it was only 1pm. at least you only had a good two hours until it was time to go home, since changbin needed to end early for a prior engagement. while you were typing away, mina was sitting on the leather couch next to you, about a foot away, half-way paying attention to what was actually going on. 

han was sitting in a chair about two feet away, writing in his journal, and chan and changbin were directing seungmin in the booth, lost in concentration. 

you try to focus on the task in front of you, but you can feel her eyes on you, like she’s studying you for some kind of weakness. you glance up, just in time to catch her watching you, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“hey,” she begins, her voice light and overly sweet, as if she’s sharing a secret. “can i ask you something?”

you sigh, already dreading whatever’s coming next. “what?”

mina shifts slightly on the couch, her tone now casual, like she’s making conversation. “i’ve been meaning to ask, you know… how do you deal with, like... not having to worry about, well, fitness and stuff? like, you’re so relaxed about it. i mean, i can’t imagine just… not caring about how i look all the time.” she tilts her head, her eyes narrowing just enough to show she’s enjoying the discomfort she’s causing.

you feel a pang in your chest, but you try to mask it, pretending like her words don’t bother you. mina leans back on the couch, a mockingly sympathetic expression crossing her face. “it must be so nice not to stress about it like the rest of us. you’re just so… comfortable, right?”

the condescension in her voice is unmistakable, and it’s almost impressive how she manages to turn an innocent comment into another thinly veiled jab. you can practically hear the unspoken “must be nice” ringing in the air.

you try to keep your face neutral, but her words hang in your mind, a reminder of the deep-seated insecurity she knows how to exploit so effortlessly. a part of you was pissed off; not at her high-school attempt to make you feel insecure–but the fact that it actually hurt your feelings. “mina-” you start, but you’re cut off, and she speaks up again. “i mean, more power to you. i’d feel so self conscious with all that extra weight.”

neither you or mina notice han’s eyes subtly watching mina, his attention fixed on your conversation now rather than his writing. 

your body heats up in embarrassment, and you try your best to swallow the lump in your throat. you feel your stomach tighten, but you force a smile, doing your best to mask the irritation creeping up your spine. you take a slow breath before responding, making sure your voice comes across calm, maybe even a little amused.

"well, mina," you begin, keeping your tone light, "i guess i'm just lucky. i've always been comfortable with myself, you know?" you glance at her, making sure to meet her eyes with an easy, unbothered look. "not everyone feels the need to be so... obsessed with their appearance."

you let the words hang for a second, watching her expression flicker slightly. you knew that would get under her skin.

"guess it's just one of those things you either have, or you don’t," you add, giving her a half-smile as if it’s no big deal. "but hey, i’m sure we all have our own ways of dealing with things."

you turn your attention back to your work, knowing full well that she won’t push any further—not with the way you just shot her down without even raising your voice. mina forces a smile and a quiet chuckle before adjusting on the couch, facing forward and pulling out her notepad. 

as soon as mina turns her attention off you, han turns his off both of you, scribbling in his journal once more. he knew he should have spoken up, but it wasn’t the time or place, and he needed to be professional. you felt the same. as much as you wanted to find a way to reveal mina’s true personality to everyone present, your work and the work of everyone else in the room was so much more important than how you felt about her. 

still, her words rang in your head the rest of the session, and you found yourself unable to focus. 

you must have zoned out during the rest of the session, because before you knew it, everyone was packing up to leave. as you shoved your laptop in your bag, you heard mina’s insufferable giggle from across the room. you looked over and saw her talking with chan, being flirty as always. 

witnessing this along with the emotions you had been holding back for the past two hours became too much. you felt the lump form in your throat again and the tears pricking the back of your eyes. you quickly gathered your things and walked down the hall to the furthest practice room. you sat your bag on the floor and plopped on the couch as you began to let the tears fall. you buried your face in your hands as you let out a few quiet sobs. everytime mina was around, you felt so inferior to her. she was the perfect girl, on the exterior, and she knew how to make herself seem so sweet. but she was so rude to you. for what? 

you reached over and grabbed a tissue, blowing your nose. as you sniffled, on the brink of pulling yourself together, the door to the practice room opened. in walked chan, who was equally surprised to see you sitting there. however, his expression turned from shock to concern as he saw you with tear stained cheeks. “y/n?” he turned and closed the door behind him. “what’s wrong?” he set his things down on the desk and sat next to you on the couch, putting his arm around you. this made tears well in your eyes again and you let out another cry, covering your face in embarrassment. 

“hey,” he rubbed your arm softly in an attempt to comfort you. “it’s okay,” he cooed, making both your heart flutter and ache at the same time. he reached around you and grabbed the box of tissues, holding them for you. you grabbed another and wiped your eyes as you sniffled, your breathing ragged from how intense your crying was. “i’m sorry,” you said weakly, staring down at the makeup on the tissue. “don’t apologize. what’s wrong?” he was still rubbing your arm gently as you tried to calm yourself and find the right words to say. “i can’t.. i can’t tell you,” you sniffled, fighting back another round of sobs. “why not?” 

“it's too embarrassing.” you scoffed at yourself, looking at anything in place of him. “y/n.” he started. “not if you’re this upset over it. you can talk to me, you know that.” 

“i just.. i hate my body.” you weeped, shaking your head. “i can’t stand to look at myself.” 

“what?” chan asked, pulling away from you, as if he was shocked. “you hate your body?” you nodded sheepishly. “why?” he sounded as if he couldn’t believe it. “because, well, look at me, chan!” you gestured to your body as you sniffled again. “seriously, i don’t even know why you stand to look at me.” 

“okay, stop.” chan chuckled, and you finally looked up at him. “there is nothing, and i mean nothing, wrong with your body. what makes you think that?” you sniffled again, debating on if you should tell him your reasoning or just brush it off with just “a lack of self-confidence”. you inhaled deeply before you started to explain. “when i was younger, i was always the bigger girl in my grade. i was always the butt of my classmates’ jokes, i was always the girl nobody would ask out. so, i vowed to lose the weight, no matter what it took. i worked out for hours, restricted my eating down to the bare minimum, and here we are.” you gestured to your body. “over a hundred pounds lost.” you looked down at your hands. “but, everytime i look in the mirror, i still see that overweight girl looking back at me. and everytime i eat a meal, i get terrified of turning back into her.” 

a moment of silence passed before you spoke up again. “its stupid, isn’t it?” you chuckled at yourself. “no, it’s not.” he shook his head. “it's not your fault you feel this way. people should have been kinder to you.” he said softly. “im so sorry you went through that. but.. that’s not who i see when i look at you, not at all. i see.. a creative, talented, pretty girl. your weight doesn’t cross my mind, not at all.” he shook his head as he said the last bit. “really?” you looked up at him, your brows furrowing. he nodded and smiled, his gaze still softer than ever. “really.” he hesitantly reached forward and pushed some hair off your face. you blushed and looked down, realizing you must look crazy with all your makeup running down your face. 

“thank you.” you dabbed under your eyes again. “no need to thank me,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “i’m just telling the truth.” 

you smiled weakly and nodded. “come here.” he turned to face you more and opened his arms for a hug. you smiled and hugged him tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck. he squeezed you into the hug as well, rubbing your back. after a moment of embracing each other, you pulled away more calmed down. “i must look crazy right now.” you laughed, reaching for your hand mirror. he chuckled as well and stood up, going to his bag. “i have something that can help with that,” he said, rummaging through his things. he came back over to you with his makeup wipes. “here.” he sat next to you and pulled one out, handing it to you. “thanks,” you said before wiping off all your makeup. once you were finished, you looked over at him, noticing he was still watching you with an amused smile. “did i miss a spot?” you asked. 

he shook his head. “no. i've just.. i've never seen you without makeup before. you look pretty.” you blushed at his compliment and scoffed. “you’re just saying that.” 

“im not! i swear i'm not.” he exclaimed. “you really are pretty, y/n.” his words made you break eye contact briefly. “thank you, channie.” you peeked at him. “mhm,” he hummed in response. you smiled to yourself and walked over to the trash can to throw away your tissues and the makeup wipe. you sat back down after, sighing. “you think im pretty..” you thought you were just thinking to yourself, but you realize you said it out loud, and a blush creeps onto your cheeks, making chan smirk a little. “yeah, i do.” he nodded. 

“i also think you’re.. funny, kind, and hard-working.” he complimented you. 

your heart flutters at his words, and you can’t help but feel the warmth spread across your chest. “i’m… hard-working?” you chuckle nervously, not quite used to hearing such kind words about yourself.

“of course,” chan grins, his eyes soft. “you’re always giving your best at everything you do. that’s something i admire about you.”

you bite your lip, feeling a mix of emotions. the weight of everything that had been building up throughout the day, all the insecurities, the hurt, it all feels lighter somehow. chan’s presence, his support, the way he’s genuinely here for you, it gives you a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in a long time.

you shift on the couch, your mind racing with thoughts you hadn't been brave enough to say aloud before. “it’s just hard, sometimes, you know? i’ve spent so long thinking that my worth is tied to my appearance… or what people think of me. and hearing you say that… it makes me feel like maybe i’ve been looking at things the wrong way.”

chan leans back slightly, giving you a reassuring smile. “you are so much more than just your appearance, y/n. everyone sees something different in you. but i see you for who you really are–you don’t need to worry about fitting some image of what ‘pretty’ is. you already are, inside and out.”

you’re quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. it’s hard to believe sometimes, but hearing him say it with such sincerity gives you hope.

“thanks, chan,” you say softly, your voice steadying. “for everything. for… just being here.”

he smiles, his expression tender. “anytime, y/n. i’m always here for you.”

you nod, feeling a little more at peace than you had when you first walked into this room. maybe things wouldn't change overnight, but for the first time in a while, you felt like you weren’t alone in this battle. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

after a beat of silence, the door clicked open and you heard a familiar voice. “hey chan, can i-“ han stopped in his tracks when he saw you two sitting on the couch talking. “oh, sorry.. i thought it was only chan in here.” he said awkwardly. “oh, no, it’s okay. i need to get going anyway. i have some work to catch up on.” you reached down to grab your bag. 

“wait,” chan stood up as you did. you looked up at him, but he glanced over at han before looking back down at you. “are you gonna be okay taking the subway?” he asked you. you laughed and nodded. “i’ll be fine, chan. i’ll text you when i get home.” you gave him a small smile before walking past him, where han was holding the door open for you. “bye han!” you waved before walking down the hallway. 

“is she okay?” han asked chris, closing the door behind him. chris sighed and sat back down on the couch, putting the tissue paper back in the bag where his present was kept. “she’s just going through some stuff.” chris looked up at him. “what did you need?” 

“that's.. kind of why i was coming to talk to you. i heard mina talking to her in the studio today. she was.. saying things about her body.” han said nervously, holding onto the back of one of the desk chairs. “what?” chan asked, a hint of frustration coming out in his tone. “what did she say?” his nostrils flared as he looked up at han. “she, uh.. she was just talking about how y/n was so brave for being confident with ‘extra weight’.” he said uncomfortably. repeating something as rude as that felt unnatural to him. especially since you had done nothing for that unwarranted criticism. 

chan sighed and shook his head. he was pissed he had missed that happening. he would have definitely nipped it in the bud if he heard it. “i’ll talk to mina tomorrow.” he managed to remain as calm as he could. “thanks for telling me, han.” 

©chansdoll do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[akindaflora]

recognizing this was definitely more than just fluff whoopsy daisy

YAYA

Lip Mask

Description: (Established relationship) Chan comes home after tour and can’t get enough of your lip mask and well your lips!

warning: mentions of making out, some grinding, lap sitting, one use of the word saliva, Names used Channie Bang Chan and Christopher, mentions of making a video

Definitely will be blocking no age accounts if your under 18 please avoid this one sorry :)

Author note: Did my best to correct any mistakes and rearranged some of the flow but its pretty much the same as the unedited version! Thanks again for reading. <3

Edited 1/29/25 Word Count: 1,335

It had been a rough, dry day—nothing your skincare routine couldn’t help—and your boyfriend, Bang Chan, was home after the tour. After what felt like years, nothing could ruin your afternoon, not even your boss, who was unnecessarily rude today.

Like always after your shower you dried and changed into some comfy shorts and one of Chan’s many black shirts. Washing your hands you began to first brush your teeth, next you washed your face, then you began applying your face and eye cream and finally you applied your lip mask. When you looked into the mirror you definitely weren’t that far off from a disco ball how shiny your face became.

When Chan and you first started dating you noticed how soft his lips were whenever you kissed or in general constantly not hearing him from you staring at his lips which would be followed by a blush when he called you out on it. Though he was never mad more embarrassed after you would tell him his lips looked absolutely irresistible. But because of that obsession with his lips, when winter came you noticed how cracked yours would get and even had a few days where you wouldn’t kiss him out of embarrassment. To which he would tell you after pouting for days on end, constantly telling you that no amount of crack lips could keep you away. Yet his constant support didn’t stop you from finding new ways to keep them soft and after what felt like weeks of trial and error your lips were finally as pillowy as Chans. Smiling at yourself in the mirror from the memory, you made your way to your living room. Where your boyfriend sat on the couch scrolling through streaming services with intentions to cuddle and watch anything with you. It had been a long tour and he intended to let nothing stop him and you time. At the sound of your feet softly patting on the hardwood floor, he looked up quickly smiling as his eyes met yours.

“Hello gorgeous,” he said with a smirk using one of his hands to pat the seat right next to him, “Come here,” he said quietly as he lifted the blanket specifically for living room cuddles. Quickly walking over you plopped down next to him and laid your head on his shoulder. This small jester said everything that he didn't need to put into words. “I’ve missed you too,” you said quietly to which he responded with a soft hum and an arm that softly wrapped around your back pulling you in closer if that was physically possible. “What have you decided on?” You said softly and slightly turned your head to look up at the man next to you. After a while, he didn’t respond, from what you could see he definitely had a few eye bags from all the traveling and touring. You brought your hand up to softly caress his cheek missing the softness of his skin and the warmth that followed. After being away for so long you kept talking hoping to wake up the sleepy prince.

“Mmmm, definitely not horror right? Or maybe you wanna watch a rom-com but we both know how that ends” you said with a giggle as his head leaned into your touch and yet he didn’t respond only taking in the details of your eyes, your cheeks, and your… lips? While he didn’t say anything he did giggle when you did so maybe he was just tired you thought so you kept talking.

“Ooo maybe we could watch the new season of Dr Stone or maybe Solo Level? Felix is featured on the “ You were stopped by a sudden quick peck. And before you could question him it just kept going but only on your lips. Every time you opened your mouth another attack would happen until you finally turned your head to the side in a fit of giggles.

“CHANNIE” you streaked, “stop it I just put my lip mask on” you jokingly complained.

“I’m sorry baby but your lips are just so soft” the syllables of soft coming out more like a whine from his lips. “just one more,” he said after hiding in your neck out of embarrassment.

After what felt like a few minutes but only a few seconds you sighed heavily and replied with a bemused fine.

Quickly he grabbed your face bring your lips to his own. But what was agreed upon as one peck turned into a full make-out session. He grabbed your waist nearly pulling you into his lap his other hand holding the back of your neck as if he were afraid you would pull away. But when your hands slowly crept up from his chest to move around his neck he made home of his hands softly rubbing circles with his thumb on your waist underneath the shirt you wore. Successfully pulling you onto his lap.

Your lips become messy with the mix of lip mask and the saliva that mixed between your contact with his. With the way your soft lips and his touched it was more like a pillow fight as each lip overlapped the other. Soft moans left his and your mouth, as he roughly swiped your lower half to his. You pulled back as the high of the kiss started to feel less like heaven and more like air loss. Your forehead met his with a few pants passing from your lips that met his own as you tried to breathe.

Still sitting on his lap his eyes looking intensely into yours slightly darkening as his lips were brought into a smirk. “Channie you said only one kiss that was nearly a make-out session,” you said jokingly pouting. He only quietly laughed still out of breath but as if your lips were his cure he pecked your lips more between each huff. You giggle but ultimately move your head back as his kisses move to your neck. The soft pillows left heat from his breath as they made contact.

“Channie” you whined out in between giggles still trying to catch your breath. He only sighed in the home he made into your neck taking in the scent of your freshly showered skin. “I’m sorry but your lips are incredibly soft, I just can’t get enough!” His head quickly popped out of your neck to look you into your eyes. Finally able to see his face again you noticed your lip mask making his lips extremely shiny from your little session. Shinny and extremely pink as you assumed yours to be, you moved your hands to either side of his face softly letting your thumbs run across his checks quickly swiping some of the mask that rubbed its way on the outside of his mouth before you went back in for a quick peck. Also not being able to resist now that your favorite pillows had become a shiny treat. A rich smile filled with joy popped onto his face but slowly turned into something slightly mischievous.

“Channie wait no what about-“ cut off again as he swiftly picked you up and laid your back softly on the couch as he lay over you his hands caressing the sides of your body as his lips found yours again. This kiss not lasting as long as the other but nearly as intense left you pouting from the lack of contact, “We can make a movie if you’re so worried about it” he said quickly tucking a piece of hair that lay on your cheek.

Feeling the blush on your cheeks you quickly looked to the left. Jokingly tapping his shoulder with a loud smack, his name coming out loudly from your mouth “Christopher!” All he could respond was a quick laugh as his hand brought your face back to his lips. Yeah this was definitely an afternoon for the books, how could not be just your Channie and your skin routine against the world?

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

After writing notes: If you made it to here thank you ❤️ This is my first time writing anything like this so i only hope i could do you all justice with this fluff. But i couldn’t help but keep thinking about this moment with Channie specially since I started doing a lip care routine. And i mean come on you’ve seen this man’s lips.

-YaYa

[starlostseungmin]

husband!chan

✰ notes: the second entry of husband!skz series!! this is just for the meantime since my brain is still not ready to write a lot. i hope you guys enjoy!! not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin（ chan ）lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix , hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Chan who got down on one knee and asked, “Will you marry me?” on a private beach—just the two of you—because it was his ideal proposal and you gladly said yes. 

Husband Chan who took you to (name of country) for your honeymoon. 

Husband Chan who would take you to Sydney for a vacation and meet his family. 

Husband Chan who suggested to make Berry as your child while you were still thinking about having literal kids. It doesn’t matter how long, he only needs you and Berry to make him happy.

Husband Chan who has seven children to feed and declare you as his wife. 

Husband Chan who puts you first before everything. 

Husband Chan who loves to send pictures with the caption “For your eyes only,” and giggles to himself while reading your replies saying how much he looks cute or handsomeーhe can imagine your reactions. 

Husband Chan who loves movie nights and lets you decide which one you’d be watching so you better wear the most comfortable clothes and prepare a bucket of popcorn. 

Husband Chan who cooks you a lot of food and loves spoon-feeding you because you are his precious baby. 

Husband Chan who pretends he doesn’t know about you stealing his hoodies. He doesn’t mind and gets all giddy when you wear them since they look cute on you. “I’m not giving them back,” You said. “What’s mine is yours, baby,” He smiled. 

Husband Chan who invites you out on a dinner date on a casual weekend because he knows you would enjoy it. After dinner you would stroll around the city, holding hands. 

Husband Chan who carries you to your shared bed when he finds you sleeping on the couch while waiting for him to come home from work. 

Husband Chan who writes love songs about you and gets teased by Han and Changbin. 

Husband Chan who gives you the silent treatment but can’t put up with it for hours so he just pretends nothing happened and cuddles you. 

Husband Chan who knows what exactly you want when you’re upset and would gladly take you in his arms. He never leaves your side unless you want some space but you can’t be away from him for too long. 

Husband Chan who scolds you when you are not resting enough when he’s out there overworking himself. You decided that both of you should take a few days off which he willingly agreed to so he can spend more time with you. 

Husband Chan who lets himself be vulnerable when he’s with you because you’re the only one with whom he could let it all out. 

Husband Chan who loves to spoil you with hugs whenever you need them. 

Husband Chan who listens and understands whatever situation and dilemmas you have without any judgments rather he reassures you that everything will be okay. He gives you his full support for your decisions. 

Husband Chan who knows everyone in the industry so he knows a lot of controversies. He would share them with you on a random Sunday to gossip and giggle. 

Husband Chan who loves to make dad jokes and relays pick-up lines just to make you laugh. He gets embarrassed when it’s not funny so he hides in the bathroom until you get over it.

Husband Chan whose love languages are physical touch, words of affirmation, and acts of service. 

Husband Chan who has the most precious smile and laughs adorably makes your heart leap. 

Husband Chan whom you love the most in the world and will not let anything hurt him. 

Husband Chan whom you want to spend the rest of your life with, forever and always. 

Husband Chan who will never leave, never lets you go, and never allow you to divorce him because there’s no reason to begin with. He loves you, you love him, same story. 

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[straykidzmemories]

[yoongiismylove2018]

I asked Chat GPT to roast the members of SKZ, and I was NOT disappointed 😂😂😭😭💀💀

Pause if you need to

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: You tend to remember the smallest things and dates which are of you and Chan, so you decided to surprise him with a homemade dinner on the date of when you both met for the first time. Except for, you didn't expect Chan to forget it, let alone react the way he did.

Warnings: Couple arguments. Use of strong language, a bit of angst & tears, Smut🔞, unprotected (make-up) sex, intimate, oral (f.receiving), pet names, brief mention of a tummy bulge (so size kink if you squint I guess?). Use of Y/N (but only twice).

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: I think I'm going through a phase rn, somehow I am ADDICTED to writing angst and tears— LMFAOOO @mrs-hwangh what have you done to me???

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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Your soft hums of your favourite song echoed quietly in the living room, smiling to yourself as you fiddled with a silver bow, wrapping a small box that contained a gift you bought for your boyfriend a few days ago.

Today was the day when you both met for the first time four years ago, in the same college, at the same coffee shop where he accidentally bumped into you and spilled his drink all over your notes and you never would have imagined that moment would lead to this.

To love. To Chan.

Your heart swelled at the memory, a fond chuckle escaping your lips. You had planned a simple evening, nothing too extravagant, just the two of you, sharing memories over a homemade dinner and the gift you picked out so lovingly. You knew how busy he was, but today mattered to you. It was the day everything began.

Once you had everything set, you waited for Chan to return home from work, your leg tapping on the floor and fingers playing with the hem of your dress.

Minutes passed to hours and you hadn't received any calls or texts from him, but you waited patiently. Maybe he was caught up at work. Maybe he forgot to check his phone. Still, you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

The sound of the door unlocking cut through your thoughts, and you quickly stood up, smoothing down your dress. Relief and excitement flickered in your chest as Chan walked in, rubbing the back of his neck, looking utterly exhausted.

His bag slumped onto the floor as he kicked off his shoes, barely glancing up at you. Your heart sank ever so slightly but you tried not to let that disappointment settle in.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, stepping forward. “Long day?”

He nodded, letting out a tired sigh. “Yeah. I’m drained.”

You swallowed, suddenly nervous. “I… I made dinner. And I got you something,” you said, gesturing to the neatly wrapped gift on the coffee table.

Chan barely spared it a glance, his brows furrowing slightly. “What’s the occasion?”

Your heart dropped, but you put on a soft smile. You couldn't get mad at him if he forgot it, even though you wished he didn't. That he didn't forget the date or not acknowledge the effort, the way you had been looking forward to this all day.

"You don’t remember?” Your voice came out quieter, trying to mask in a playful tone.

He sighed again, rubbing his forehead, looking as if he'd been asked questions in an interview. "Um no, why don't you tell me?"

The way his voice sounded made you feel like you got slashed with a blade, but you shoved that dramatic thought aside and walked closer to him, biting your lower lip in order to swallow the hard lump that had formed in your throat.

“It’s the day we met.” Your voice wavered slightly, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you but you continued smiling softly. “Four years ago today.”

Chan exhaled, running a hand through his hair, frustration creeping into his features. “Babe, I’ve been swamped with work. I barely know what time it is.”

You blinked, his words stinging more than you expected. “I get that you’re busy, Chan. I really do. But this was important to me.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come on, don’t do this. It’s just a date. It’s not like an anniversary or anything.”

You took a small step back as if he had physically pushed you. You blinked up at him, trying not to let his words form the tears to gush up your eyes.

Your arms wrapped around yourself, hoping that would keep you steady. "I just thought this would mean something to you too."

His brows furrowed deeper, irritation creeping into his voice. "Of course it means something to me. But I don’t have the luxury of remembering every single date when I’m drowning in deadlines."

Your heart clenched, his words cutting deeper than you expected. "So, what, I'm just supposed to understand that I come second to everything else in your life? That it’s okay for you to forget something that mattered so much to me?"

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. "That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just a date."

"Just a date?" Your voice cracked, a slight tone of anger and heartbreak mixing in your chest. "It’s the day we met, Chan. The day everything started. I planned this for us. I waited for you, and you didn’t even think to text me back? Or check your phone?"

"I was working! I don’t have time to be glued to my phone every second!" His voice was sharper now, making you flinch hard, his frustration spilling over. "I come home exhausted, hoping to relax, and now I have to deal with this?!"

The venom in his voice made you shiver and you hugged yourself tighter. "Chan, please don't shout..."

"No, I mean you always do this. I get it, that you remember small things, but I just want an evening of peace after a long day at work."

Chan had rarely raised his voice, your throat tightened at his words, a dull ache forming in your chest. You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to stay calm even though his tone made you feel like you were drowning.

“I’m not asking you to drop everything for me, Chan,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I just thought—” You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress. “I thought maybe today would matter to you too.”

His jaw clenched, and he ran a frustrated hand through his curls, exhaling sharply. “Sure you did,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “You always do this, Y/N. You put so much weight on things that I—”

He stopped himself, hesitating, but you already knew where he was going with this.

“That you what?” You challenged, your voice barely above a whisper. “That you don’t care?”

Chan looked at you then, eyes dark with exhaustion and irritation. “That I don’t have the mental space to deal with every single date, every little detail, every expectation you set for me without telling me.”

His words cut deeper and deeper, the sting of them making your eyes well up. You blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall.

“I never asked you to be perfect, Chan,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I never expected you to remember every little thing. But this?” 

You gestured weakly toward the dinner table, the untouched meal, the small, neatly wrapped gift that now felt like a stupid afterthought.

“It's the day we met for the first time, so it just meant as much to me as our anniversary.”

Chan’s lips parted slightly, his brows furrowing, but he said nothing. That silence, that hesitation, hurt more than his words.

Your fingers wrinkled your dress, feeling a chill despite the warmth of the apartment. “You know, I wasn’t even mad that you forgot. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

Chan let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You think that I don’t want to spend time with you? Do you know how exhausting it is to juggle everything, to be everywhere at once? And now, I come home and instead of just relaxing with you, I’m being guilt-tripped over a date I forgot?”

The sharp sting of his words left you breathless.

Guilt-tripping? That was what he thought this was? Your efforts, your love, your excitement, had all of it been reduced to you being an inconvenience to him?

Your lips parted, your throat constricting as a wave of emotions surged through you. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Chan,” you said, your voice wavering. “I just wanted you to remember. I wanted you to want this too.”

His expression flickered, something unreadable flashing across his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a heavy sigh. “I’m tired, okay? I’m so damn tired. I don’t have time to remember every little thing—”

“Every little thing?” you cut him off, your voice suddenly louder, cracking under the weight of your emotions.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t say it wasn’t important, I just—damn it, I forgot, okay? I’m human! I make mistakes!”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, eyes stinging, heart breaking. “Forgetting is one thing,” you said, voice thick with unshed tears. “But the way you’re acting right now? Like I’m just another problem you have to deal with?”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands clenched at your sides. “That hurts more than you forgetting.”

Chan’s eyes widened slightly, the anger in his expression flickering for a brief moment. But the damage was done. The silence between you was heavy, suffocating, the walls closing in around you.

You shook your head, backing away from him. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Y/N…” he started, but you turned away from him.

“No. I get it. You’re tired. You need space. And I’m obviously asking for too much,” you said, your voice hollow. “So I’ll make it easy for you.”

With that, you turned on your heel, took your keys that were sitting on the coffee table and walked toward the door, grabbing your coat. Chan’s eyes darkened, his hand wrapped around your wrist. “Where are you going?”

You untangled yourself off his grip and slipped in your coat, brushing away the tear that slipped down your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Somewhere that doesn’t make me feel like I’m begging for your attention.”

His face fell, and for the first time that evening, you saw a flicker of realization in his eyes—as if he finally understood just how much he had hurt you.

“No, wait, please,” he said, reaching for you, but you pulled away before he could touch you.

You turned away and closed the door behind you, walking away as fast as you could to your car, driving back to your apartment.

Behind the door Chan grabbed fistfuls of his hair, grunting and growling under his breath as he fell on the plush couch.

His eyes caught the small, neatly wrapped gift that was sitting on the coffee table, he hesitated for a second but then opened it, his heart sank like a stone thrown in the ocean when he saw what was nestling inside.

His favourite bracelet he lost when we went on a business trip a few months ago. It was the exact same design and brand.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the bracelet, the silver catching the dim glow of the living room light. His throat tightened painfully as he turned it over in his hands, his vision blurring slightly.

And you… you had remembered. You had gone out of your way to find it, to replace something that meant so much to him, because that’s just the kind of person you were.

Chan exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the weight of his words from earlier slamming into him like a truck.

What had he done?

***

The next morning you woke up, exhausted, your vision blurry, nose stuffed and what felt like a dull headache creeping up your forehead. You groaned softly and walked into the bathroom, to find your state in a mess.

Disheveled hair, puffy cheeks with stained mascara, swollen eyes and lips. You had barely stepped inside your apartment before the dam broke, tears spilling freely as you sunk in your bed.

You didn't know at what time you reached home or when you had fallen asleep.

You hated arguing with Chan. 

Sure you had a few disagreements once in a while but they were different. But this kind of argument; where it wasn’t just a misunderstanding, but something way deeper, made you question if you were the only one holding onto the pieces of your relationship while he let them slip through his fingers so easily.

You fixed yourself into the shower, letting the water wash away the fresh set of tears that began to run down your face. After a while you stepped out and changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and grabbed your phone, only to see a dozen calls and texts from Chan.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, heart pounding as you scrolled through the missed calls. Channie <3 (12).

The unread messages blurred together, but you caught glimpses of them as your breath hitched.

Channie <3 [1:12 AM]: Please, baby, pick up. Channie <3 [1:13 AM]: I know you’re mad. I know I fucked up. But please, don’t shut me out. Channie <3 [2:03 AM]: Are you home? Are you safe? Just… let me know you’re okay. That’s all I need right now.

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled further, his messages growing more frantic, more desperate.

Channie <3 [2:45 AM]: I can’t sleep knowing I hurt you like this.

Channie <3 [3:20 AM]: I love you. I love you so much. I don’t deserve you, but please tell me you’re okay.

Your chin wobbled as you closed your eyes and kept your phone face down on the nightstand, not knowing what to respond to him. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face him yet, if you could talk to him and not break all over again.

You walked out of your bedroom, to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee when the front door bell rang. You glanced at the clock hanging on your wall, wondering if you were expecting anyone in the morning, you sighed heavily and walked to the door, only to be greeted by someone that made you feel like you got pulled into the floor.

Outside stood Chan, his face masked with exhaustion and faint hints of dark circles under his eyes and messy hair as if he had been running his hand through it the entire night. He was holding a bag, what looked like it was from your favourite bakery and bouquet of flowers, his gaze locking in with yours, pleading you for a chance and forgiveness.

You attempted to close the door but Chan held it, interrupting you from shutting him out. “Sweetheart…” He started but before he could say anything, you left the door hanging and walked into the living room.

Chan hesitated at the doorway, gripping the bag and flowers tightly as he watched you walk away. He took a shaky breath and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

The quiet of your apartment felt heavier than usual, like an invisible barrier had formed between the two of you. He placed the bag on the kitchen counter, setting the flowers beside it, before slowly following your retreating figure.

You kept your back to him, your arms crossed over your chest as you stood near the window, staring outside as if willing yourself to be anywhere but here.

“Baby…” Chan tried again, his voice softer this time. Apologetic.

You tensed but didn’t turn around.

He took a careful step forward. “Please, just—”

“Don’t,” you said, your voice a whisper, but it carried enough weight to stop him in his tracks.

Chan swallowed hard. He wanted to reach for you, to hold you, to tell you he was sorry in a way that would make up for last night. But the weight of the argument hung so heavily between you both, without sparing a glance at him, you went inside your bedroom.

The soft click of the door shutting behind you echoed louder than it should have, and Chan exhaled shakily, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

He had messed up. Badly.

His gaze flickered to the neatly wrapped pastries and the bouquet he had brought. He had stopped by your favorite bakery the moment they opened, hoping—praying—that it would mean something, that it would show you he was trying to make up for the way he reacted.

But he knew better. A box of pastries and a bouquet of flowers couldn’t, wouldn't erase the way he had hurt you.

With a tired sigh, he sank onto the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. He didn’t know how much time had passed, only that the silence in the apartment was suffocating.

He glanced toward your closed bedroom door, debating if he should give you more time or if he should go to you now.

But his heart won over his hesitation.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and walked toward your door, his footsteps hesitant but determined. He paused just outside, lifting a hand to knock, but stopped himself at the last second.

Instead, he carefully turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

You were sitting on the bed, your back facing him, silent sobs filling the room. As much as you wanted to hate him for the way he behaved, you simply couldn’t. His presence alone was enough to pull you over, but the heaviness of your emotions made it hard to think. 

Chan’s heart ached at the sight and the sound of your sobs. You heard his footsteps, with a choked voice you said, “Chan, go away.”

He couldn’t go away like that. Not until he tells you how sorry he is and how much he regrets last night. 

“Honey…”

Your shoulders shook harder with each breath, Chan made his way towards you and sat next to you, hesitating for a fraction of a second before his arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush to his chest. You couldn’t react, just stayed frozen in his embrace.

“Baby, my love, I’m so sorry…” He exhaled deeply. “I hate myself for the way I was last night. I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t important to me because, God, baby, you are everything to me.”

“I messed up,” he admitted, his voice thick with regret. “I was stressed, and I let it make me forget what really matters. I forgot us. And that’s not okay.”

You swallowed thickly, your body still stiff in his hold, unsure if you should let yourself sink into his warmth or resist the comfort you so desperately craved. His arms tightened around you, his heartbeat pounding in a frantic rhythm under your ear.

“I should have come home and held you,” Chan murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I should have kissed you and told you how much I love you instead of making you feel like you were asking for too much.”

Your lips parted in a shaky exhale, the weight of his words pressing against your fragile heart.

“You never ask for too much,” he whispered, his voice raw, filled with self-reproach. “You only ever ask for me,” his throat flexed, “and I failed you.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled from your eyes, but this time, you weren’t alone in your grief. Chan pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, as if he was trying to kiss away the pain he had caused.

He gently turned you in his embrace, urging you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he tilted your face up to his. Your vision was blurry, so you closed your eyes, unsure if you could look at him.

His thumbs brushed away the tears clinging to your skin, his touch featherlight, reverent. “Please look at me, sweetheart.”

And then you did. And what you saw made your breath hitch.

Pure, unfiltered love—wrapped in sorrow, wrapped in desperation. His dark eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, rimmed with exhaustion and regret. His lips were slightly chapped, parted as if he had a thousand apologies to spill but didn’t know where to start. He looked just as broken as you felt.

His mouth brushed on your forehead, lips trembling as he whispered, “There is nothing in this world that matters more to me than you, baby.”

Your chin trembled. “Then why did I feel like I was alone in this?”

Chan inhaled sharply, his expression crumbling. “You’re not,” he said instantly, his voice urgent. “I swear, you’re not. I just—” He exhaled heavily, his fingers trembling as they traced over the curve of your jaw. 

“I shouldn’t have taken out my stress from work on you, when you only wanted to spend time with me on a day that I should have remembered too. I’m really sorry baby. I can’t lose you over this.”

Your gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes, searching, wavering. His words poured out so thick with emotion, unfiltered and raw, it made your chest tighten so hard, it hurt.

“Tell me now,” his fingers brushed away the faint tear stains from your face, “Do you want me to go?”

Your breath and words were stuck in your throat. Part of you wanted to let your pain fester a little longer so he could understand just how much last night had hurt. But the way he was looking at you, so full of remorse, it broke through the wall you had tried to keep up.

Chan was here. And he was trying.

The sincerity of his voice and his presence thawed the ice that built around your heart overnight, you couldn't stay angry at him for another moment longer. Because you knew the love you had for him could overshadow any kind of pain.

Your fingers reached up, hesitant, before threading through his soft curls. He sucked in a breath at the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, his grip on you tightening.

Time was frozen, breaths were stolen and before you could stop yourself, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. “Don't hurt me again…” You chokingly whispered.

“Never sweetheart. I won't ever do that again.” He let out a shaky breath against your neck, his hands running up your back, molding your body to his like he was terrified you’d disappear if he let go.

“Let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice so low and vulnerable that it sent a shiver down your spine.

His lips brushed over your cheek first, barely there, as if he was asking for permission. Then he kissed the corner of your mouth, lingering and waiting. “Please.”

And when you didn’t pull away, he finally pressed his lips to yours.

Soft and hesitant.

Not demanding, not rushed, just a quiet plea wrapped in tenderness.

His lips molded against yours like a silent confession, staying there as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt against him.

His hands moved up your sides, thumbs tracing absent patterns over your skin. He wasn’t taking, he was giving, pouring all of his love into every press of his himself, every stroke of his fingertips.

Your body melted into his instinctively, your hands tightening in his hair as you deepened the kiss, letting yourself drown in the warmth of him. 

He made a quiet sound against you, almost like a sigh of relief, as if he had been waiting for this, for you to accept him, to let him back in as he laid you on your back and toyed with the waistband of your pants.

He had barely touched you and you were already on liquid fire. Blood coursed through your veins when he pulled them down, the chilly air making you shiver at the contact of your heated skin. 

“Chan…”  Your voice came out in a breathy whisper, half moan and half command, when his lips danced over the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Hmm?” when he pressed there, you couldn't help but sigh completely. “What is it honey?” He coaxed, the huskiness of his voice that made it hard to think. Did you want him to stop? Or did you want him to go on?

“I…,” He smirked against you as he made his way up, a path that he knew like the back of his hand. He spread your legs apart, the glistening sight before him reawoke a rush of possessiveness in him. 

“I hate fighting with you.” Chan whispered against your flesh, voice raw and aching. 

Your fingers found his hair, tugging him closer as if that alone could answer him. His breath fanned over your core, and his thumbs rubbed soothing circles into your thighs.

“You’re my world,” he admitted, looking up at you, eyes dark but filled with something deeper than lust. “And I want to give you everything. I'm sorry for ruining last night baby.”

The words sent a warmth spiraling through you, melting away the remnants of your argument.

He brushed a kitten kiss right on your swollen clit, and your body responded instantly, arching toward his touch. He took his time, tracing delicate patterns with his tongue, exploring you with a reverence that left you breathless. 

His hands kept you steady, but the way he worshipped you made you feel as if you were floating. You couldn't help but squirm, soft moans spilled from your lips, and when you murmured his name.

This wasn’t about just sex. It was about him making up for every harsh word he said, erasing any distance that had carved its way between you both over the past 12 hours.

His mouth moved over you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every reaction, every soft gasp that spilled from your throat. His hands, rough and calloused, held you with the gentleness of a man afraid to break something precious.

“Cha—nhg,” You whimpers didn't slow him down. It only made him go faster and faster, tongue flicking and licking with an agonizing pressure. 

He groaned against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. You attempted to pull his head away from your pulsing core but he wouldn't budge. 

“I'm not done.” He looked up from your pussy, chin and lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. 

He dove back in with a renewed, hungry pace, his nose nudging against your clit, the warmth shooting up to every inch of your body. He couldn't get enough of how you tasted, how you moaned and screamed only for him. If he could, he would stay right were he was forever.

The band in your lower belly knotted tighter and tighter, had you writhing and bucking your hips, it was on the edge of snapping

And then you surrendered to him. Your orgasm left you gasping, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and only his name escaping your lips, Chan held you firmly as he helped you ride it out. 

He didn't let you go for a second as he sucked and licked your pussy splurting with arousal like he was on the verge of starvation, until he left you boneless but content beneath him.

Slowly, he made his way up your body, removing your top and his mouth hovering your hips, across the plane of your stomach, up the valley between your breasts. Each of it was an apology, a whispered promise against your skin.

“Baby,”—smooch—“fuck you're so sweet when you,”—smooch—“come on my face.” He said between kisses and gentle nipping on your sensitive, peaking buds that rebuilt the anticipation.

Soon enough every piece of clothing was discarded until it was only the fiery sparkles of your sweat misted bodies flying between you both. He shifted, positioning himself between your legs.

The tip of his cock nudged your nub softly before entered you slowly, filling you inch by inch, watching your face for every reaction. You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Chan let out a shuddering breath, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close as he started to move. His pace was slow, deliberate, each thrust sending a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, but it was more than that. 

It was a silent conversation, an absolution, a way of reminding each other that no fight, no disagreement, could ever take this away from you.

You pulled him in deeper and deeper, his cock twitched hard inside of you, the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, sweat and groans soaked the air. 

His eyes fell down to where you both joined, what he saw drove him out of his mind. A soft but visible movement in your tummy. 

“Shi— fuck.”

Your eyes fluttered open when he held your hand and brought it over your tummy where you felt the bulge that was moving in and out of you.

“Feel that?” He pounded into you that made you arch your back, digging your nails into his skin. “D’you feel that baby?” 

You nodded, out of breath, mouth falling open until the cries of pleasure consumed you whole, the feel of the bulge just spurring you on more. 

His hands roamed your body, mapping familiar paths, his lips never straying far from yours. He whispered sweet nothings against your skin, words of love and devotion, apologies and reassurances.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but steady.

You smiled softly for the first time after the long hours, tilting your head to kiss him once more. “I love you too.”

And just like that, the fight was forgotten. Not because it didn’t matter, but because what you had together was always stronger.

“You're squeezing me baby,” his orgasm rushed fast and threatened to take over him, climbing up his spine and snapping his restraints. 

“Chan I'm… I'm going to come,” 

And your release finally crashed over you again, it wasn’t just pleasure—it was catharsis. 

A loud cry tore off your throat as you flooded around his cock, shaking and moaning, Chan followed seconds after slamming into you in one last thrust, burying himself deep with a breathless groan, his body caging over yours.

The post sex high lingered but he didn’t move or pull out. He stayed wrapped around you, pressing lazy kisses to your temple, your shoulder, anywhere he could reach. His fingers traced slow patterns on your skin, grounding you both in the quiet aftermath.

“Do you forgive me?” He asked softly, his fingers brushing away a few strands of hair. 

You smiled cheekily, fingers running through his damp sweat hair, “No,” you said lowly that made his eyes widen in disbelief.

His reaction made a laugh bubble up your throat, you pulled him down onto your mouth letting your tongue slip past his lips and had him melt all over again.

“Yes, I forgive you Chan.” You said pulling back, chest heaving and content. 

He chuckled deeply, hugging you tightly, the lingering amusement from your playful teasing was still evident in the crinkle of his nose. 

Then, with a slow, deliberate exhale, he shifted, reluctantly pulling away from your warmth.

You watched him as he retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom, wiped you clean before he reached for his pants, discarded somewhere on the floor, and retrieved something small from the pocket. 

When he turned back to you, he held a tiny velvet box in his hands.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Chan hesitated, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of the box as if gathering the courage to speak. Then, with a slow inhale, he flicked it open.

Inside, nestled against the velvet lining, were two delicate rings, a simple silver band with a tiny, shimmering stone embedded at its center. It wasn’t flashy, nor extravagant, but it was beautiful in a way that felt so intimate and personal.

Your eyes flickered from the ring to his face, your heart hammering against your ribcage. “Chan…?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, but you could tell he was nervous. His free hand found yours, fingers lacing together as he held you close.

“I’ve been carrying this around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. And I—” He sighed laughing, shaking his head. “I guess last night was the moment but…”

Chan took a steadying breath, his fingers tracing the edge of the velvet box. “I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes,” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I push too hard, tease too much. And when we fight, I say things I don’t mean.”

You shook your head, reaching out to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief second before continuing.

“It’s not… a proposal,” he clarified quickly, though his lips curled into that familiar teasing smirk. “Not yet, at least. But it’s a promise.” He squeezed your hand, eyes searching yours with a raw kind of vulnerability. 

“A promise that no matter how much we fight, no matter how many times I mess up… I’ll always choose you. I’ll always come back to you. If you’ll have me.”

Your throat felt tight, emotions swelling so intensely in your chest that you could barely breathe. “Oh Channie,”

His smirk faltered, concern flashing across his face. “Is it too much?” he asked hesitantly. “I know we just—”

You shook your head quickly, cutting him off. “No,” a shaky laugh escaped you . “It’s perfect.”

Relief flooded his features, and for the first time, you saw the nervous tension completely drain from his shoulders.

“Then… will you wear it?” he asked softly, lifting the ring from the box.

“Of course, I will.” You nodded, biting your bottom lip and holding out your hand, he slipped the cool metal onto your finger, the fit perfect, like it was meant to be there all along.

You took the other one from the box and slid it onto his finger with the same reverence, looking up at him through damp lashes.

“This is my promise to you,” you echoed, voice soft but sure. “That even when you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, I’ll still choose you. Every time.”

Chan let out a breathless chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he gazed at you like you hung the stars.

“God, I love you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

You didn’t get the chance to respond before his mouth collided with yours again, slow, deep, and filled with a devotion that made your heart flutter in the best way possible.

And as you fell back on the mattress, tangled in each other yet again, the silver bands glinting under the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the window, you knew; there was no one else for you but him.

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Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[levanterhaze]

gameboy ― bangchan

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬[ minors do not interact! ] fratboy!bangchan x f!reader . unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, graphic sex details, if you don't feel comfortable, don't read! fingering (f. receiving), just pure smut.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i wrote this in one night, i think i was inspired or something. it's been a while since i've written, but i found this one interesting. i'm still thinking about doing a second part!

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡―[part 2]

The music was a bit too loud, but that's just the vibe, right?

Eunji was super focused on her school skirt she had borrowed from Sohee, working hard to recreate Britney Spears' iconic style. The theme was Y2K, and the fraternity was buzzing with Cher Horowitz, Paris Hilton, and Beyoncé energy.

You took a refreshing sip of your drink while your friends spread out to mingle. Sohee was caught up in the moment, and she and Minho, her boyfriend, shared a lovey-dovey moment. Eunji was telling someone how tired college was making her, that she barely had time to go to a spa, which, for Eunji, was total nonsense.

You were sharing a room with the two of them, which was very fortunate as they were both top-notch people. You scanned the place, looking for something or someone. It was a bad habit, you knew. Going to frat parties meant sharing the same square metre as your nemesis – or nearly so.

Your friends were aware of your mutual dislike of each other, but as you couldn't seem to avoid going to parties or socializing with your friends, you made a conscious effort to be the bigger person and not let his presence upset you. That said, it wasn't always easy.

Bangchan got what he wanted most of the time. He was arrogant and overbearing, which drove you crazy. As a woman who fought hard against all kinds of ignorance, it was gross to see him bragging around campus as if he were the last man in the world.

What was even more annoying was that all the girls fell for his bullshit.

Sohee, who was the most blunt of the three, said this was "suppressed horniness" and that the moment you and Bangchan were alone, all this animosity would turn into libido and it would all be sorted in one good fuck. But that was far from happening if it was up to you. "Now we're talking," Hyunjin appeared in your line of sight. With his long black hair slicked back, he looked like a slightly slutty version of Patrick Bateman, with fake blood on his jaw and chest. "You look good.

With your hands on your waist, you turned around to show how much effort you'd put into your costume. 

As someone deeply involved in theatre, you are always fully committed to any challenge. Whether it's a play or a fraternity party, you commit wholeheartedly. After much thought, you decided that you would be Suki. The lilac blouse was small and suited your upper body perfectly. The pink leather pants were almost identical, ending just below your bottom and with garters that went down to your thighs, exposing your skin by just a few inches. Suki is a sexy and iconic character, which is a perfect fit for you.

"You know it's not Halloween, right?" you shouted over loud music. Hyunjin gave a casual shrug and smiled, showing his teeth.

"There's always an excuse to dress up as Patrick Bateman."

There was a DJ at the party, apparently Minho's friend Jisung. He cranked up the music, and everyone gravitated towards the centre of the room, where most people were dancing. It was reggaeton and all the girls were rolling around and gettin down on the floor. Sohee was dancing with her boyfriend, whose hands were on her waist and whose face was close to hers, looking very pleased.

Eunji put her back to yours, glass in hand, and you danced together. As the alcohol took over your bodies, it was hard to hold back.

The beat was infectious and the energy was almost impossible to control. You danced together for three more songs until the alcohol had worn off and you desperately needed to find a toilet.

"Wait for me!" you shouted as you climbed the wooden stairs to the second floor access. It wasn't your first time in this dorm, but the drink had clouded your mind and all the doors simply looked the same.

You played a quick round of eenie, meenie, miney, mo, your finger landing on one of the many identical doors. Without hesitation, you turned the handle and pushed it open, expecting to find a bathroom. What you found instead stopped you dead in your tracks.

It wasn’t the bathroom. Not even close.

A girl was kneeling in the corner of the room, her blonde hair held by thick hands and enlarged veins. Your first impulse was to close the door, but for some odd reason you didn't. Standing there, eyes downcast and lips hanging open, was Bangchan.

You would never have believed it if you'd seen it.

The girl was working really hard, loudly moaning as she put it in her mouth. You stood there watching and thinking about what you saw. Bangchan had his dark hair covering his face, but then he lifted his head and you could see the thick veins on his neck.

Maybe the alcohol was having an effect. You tripped over yourself, making him look at you.

Your eyes went wide and you spun on your heels, running in the opposite direction.

"Oh no, oh shit."

At that moment, a girl came out of the bathroom, and you thanked God for finally finding a place where you could lock yourself in. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin prickled. Oh my god. That was too embarrassing. It wasn't something you should have seen, and even worse, it wasn't something you should have enjoyed witnessing.

After using the bathroom and washing your face with cold water, you went back into the living room and pretended that nothing had happened. If you drank enough, the sight of Bangchan groaning would quickly fade from your mind.

"You won't believe this," Eunji shouted, laughter spilling out with every word. "Some guy just stripped down to nothing but a cowboy hat and is now giving everyone his best Magic Mike impression."

Sure enough, there he was—a member of the basketball team, stark naked save for the cowboy hat perched jauntily on his head, gyrating in the middle of the dance floor like he was auditioning for Vegas.

"That's... dedication," you muttered, unable to tear your eyes away from the chaotic spectacle.

"That's fucking insane," Felix chimed in, suddenly materializing beside Hyunjin. He was dressed as a somewhat disheveled Romeo, complete with a feathered cap that looked suspiciously askew. His grin was as bright as the party lights.

"Is it?" Hyunjin asked dryly, eyeing the cowboy dancer like he was trying to calculate how much alcohol it would take to get someone to that point. "Seems on-brand for him."

"You know that guy?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hyunjin shrugged. "Not well enough to explain this."

Felix laughed, holding up a drink. "I don't know, kind of feels like art to me. Pure, unfiltered expression."

"Expression, my ass," Eunji snorted. "I give him five more minutes before campus security steps in."

Something caught your eye from across the room. Like a moth lured by a flame, your eyes found him. Bangchan was coming down the stairs with a girl in a Christina Aguilera costume. Her breasts barely tucked into her low-cut top, while he was now shirtless, wearing only an open sweatshirt over his abs.

Fucking ridiculous.

"Hyunjin!" you shouted, needing to get away from there as quickly as possible so that he wouldn't see you. You could picture the teasing or judgy looks he would give you. "Do you want to go with me to get a drink?" your voice came out sounding a bit desperate.

He was making his way through the crowd.

"The table's just over there, go get yourself," Hyunjin grumbled, but you rolled your eyes and took him by the hand.

"I'm asking you to come with me. Shut up and move."

The boy couldn't avoid it because you were pulling him through the crowd.

When you got to the table, you filled a cup with beer and drank it all in one go. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, shocked at how determined you were. The second time, you were about to put the beer straight to your lips, but your friend was quicker and took it out of your hands.

"Okay. I think you've had enough."

You looked at your friends, and saw that Bangchan was looking at you and Hyunjin. There was something unusual in his gaze, something you couldn't and didn't want to understand. But something was causing you to feel uneasy. Especially in your panties.

You noticed the strange movement because in a second he was nowhere to be found. In the crowd, you saw Bangchan coming towards you.

“Hyun. Kiss me.”

Hyunjin froze, his brow arching high enough to vanish beneath his dark fringe. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“I need you to kiss me,” you repeated, your voice steady but your eyes darting toward the crowd. “Like, now.”

His hand stalled mid-motion, the glass he’d been holding clinking softly as he set it on the table. “What’s going on with you today?” he asked, studying you like you’d just sprouted another head. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Hyunjin, seriously,” you hissed, stepping closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Just act. I need you to do this for me. Now. Please.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback, before his gaze narrowed slightly. “This better not be a setup for something ridiculous,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching. “But fine. If it’s that important...”

The boy shrugged. He was surprised by the situation, but he would never refuse a demand for a kiss, even if it was a fake one. Hyunjin grabbed your face and pulled you into a solid kiss. There was no tongue, and there wasn't much feeling either. There was no excitement or the usual growing heat between you. But that didn't mean your friend wasn't a good kisser.

You kept going for a few seconds, until you needed to catch your breath and pushed him away by squeezing his shoulder a little. Hyunjin raised his eyebrows and shrugged. A girl walked past you, looking surprised. One of Hyunjin's friends called out to him, and then he left.

You hadn't a clue what you were doing. The idea after executing it seemed like a disaster. Kissing your friend to throw Bangchan off sounded better in your head.

"You sure love being the center of attention, don’t you?"

The voice that followed caught you off guard, smooth and laced with confidence. It sent a shiver down your spine, but you quickly shrugged it off.

"Funny, coming from you," you shot back, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. He couldn’t see your face, but the eye-roll in your voice was impossible to miss.

And to be honest with himself, he could imagine a bunch of other things, too.

Receiving a blowjob from a student in his room was nice, but what made him come was having you watching. All this mutual hate made him more excited. It was like a competition, and every day he got closer to scoring.

He couldn't ignore your figure as you walked by, the way your pants clung to the curves of your body. Seeing you there, watching, made him think about doing all sorts of things, but none of them involved those pants.

"Kissing my friends in front of me? Bold move." He laughed at the look of disgust on your face. “If you wanted to join in, sweetheart, you could’ve just said so." His voice dropped, low and smooth, as he leaned closer. You could feel the dampness of his plump lips on your skin.

Frustrated by the interaction, you spun around and averted his gaze.

"You’re so full of yourself, it’s gross" But it didn't matter. The more you talked, the more he enjoyed himself. "And you're a disgusting, perverted..."

"If I'm all that, then why didn't you close the door, hmm?" He shot back, his smirk widening.

You were at a loss for words, your mind scrambling to form a coherent thought. Bold didn’t even begin to describe him. Bangchan wiped his lips with an infuriating nonchalance, stepping closer until the air between you was practically charged.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerously smooth. “You wanted to be her, didn’t you?” Your eyes widened. "I know you did. Yeah. You watched 'cause you liked what you saw. You wanted it to be your lips wrapped around my cock.”

"You're..."

“Save it,” he interrupted with a cocky smirk, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t waste your breath. If you really want to find out, meet me there.”

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your pulse pounding in your ears. The sight of his broad shoulders and that silver chain resting against his toned abdomen only made things worse.

This was insane. Your head spun, and it wasn’t from the booze. His words, his presence, everything about him was too much—and yet, your body betrayed you.

Did you want to find out?

The whispers from theater rehearsals echoed in your mind. The girls who couldn’t stop talking about him, the things he supposedly did, the way he made them feel. Was he really that good? Was he as intoxicating as he seemed when you caught that glimpse earlier?

If none of that made sense, then why did your body tell you otherwise?

So you walked among a crowd of people. The noise of your thoughts overwhelmed the music. With each step, you found a reason to quit. Your friends were having fun, and they probably wouldn't miss you for a few minutes, right? What was wrong with you?

How could you even think about having sex with Bangchan?

Three doors were closed, but the same one was open. You closed your eyes, believing you had time to give up. But your body didn't cooperate. You had to feed the heat coursing through your body, otherwise you'd burn up — and you couldn't let that happen.

The room was dark when you pushed open the door. Your eyes scanned the darkness until you found him sitting on the edge of the bed. Bangchan's gaze conveyed surprise. It was a shot in the dark. He didn't think you would come.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a charged silence that seemed louder than words. The dim light made everything sharper—the way his chest rose and fell, the way his eyes darkened as they lingered on you.

Your heart hammered in your chest, indecision clawing at you. Turning on your heel, you made a move to leave, but before you could take a full step, Bangchan’s hand wrapped around your wrist, firm yet electrifying.

“This is a dumb decision.”

"But here you are." Bangchan hesitated. The sight of your soft, cherry-painted lips looked so tempting that he could think of only one thing: devouring you. "Fuck it."

He reached back and clicked the door shut, the sound echoing in the heavy silence. You noticed the way his forearm flexed but quickly looked away, catching something else in his eyes instead—something raw, something dangerous.

“So,” he murmured, stepping closer, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “You know what?”

You swallowed hard, retreating step by step until your back hit the desk, the cool surface grounding you against the heat of his presence.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely steady. Holding his gaze felt impossible, especially when every nerve in your body screamed at you to close the gap.

But you didn’t move—not yet. Even though all you wanted was to tear down the distance and let the fire between you consume everything.

Bangchan’s hand found your stomach, his thumb brushing over the bare skin with maddening precision, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a ripple of heat through your body that settled low in your core.

Before you knew it, you were perched on the edge of the table, legs parted just enough to let him step between them. His presence filled the space around you, his confidence suffocating in the most infuriating way.

He took his time, gently touching your skin with his knuckles, brushing them over your arms, until he leaned forward and placed his lips on your jaw. The tingling sensation of his lips on your skin was like taking an opiate. You felt nothing and everything at the same time.

His breath fanned your skin as he kissed the spot just below your ear, drawing a soft gasp from you. He paused, his lips trailing to your jawline, and his voice, low and rough, broke the silence. "I wished it was you. With your pretty little mouth around me. Thinking about you made me come. So fucking hard."

A sob escaped your lips. The words were painful for your sore body. His tongue crawled over your chin. Bangchan held your face with one hand, making you stare into his eyes. Naked and raw. "You like that, hmm? D’ya like knowing that I think ‘bout you?” You wanted to fight back. You didn't want to let him dominate you.

“You're fucking ridiculous.”

Bangchan’s lips curled into that infuriatingly cocky smile, the one that set your nerves on fire.

 That's his girl. With a clever mouth.

“Yeah, is that so?” He sucked on your lip, pulling you to him in painstaking haste.

“Yes.” You moaned copiously. You hissed, though the conviction in your voice wavered as his hand slid up your thigh, slow and measured. His knuckles brushed the soft skin there, and the ache he left in your wake was unbearable. With his other hand, he circled your inner thigh, climbing achingly up to your cunt.

“I want you to say that again when I make you cum. Mmm, what ya say?” He murmured, his lips brushing your ear as his other hand settled firmly on your hip. A low laugh rumbled in his chest as a shaky moan slipped from yours, unbidden but impossible to hold back. 

His hand inched higher, and you fought to keep your composure, though the heat pooling low in your stomach made it a losing battle.

“I fuckin' hate you.” you spat, though your breathless tone robbed it of any real venom.

“We'll see about that.”

His words were a promise, cocky and assured, and without leaving room for an answer, he devoured your mouth with devotion. Both bodies undulated against each other, desperate for friction, for warmth. Bangchan spread your thighs, pushing you backwards. It was so intense that your back was arching over, the two of you battling for control.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claim. His hands moved with purpose, gripping your thigh and pulling you closer as his body pressed into yours, the heat between you like a live wire. The table groaned beneath you as he guided you back, his palm sliding up to part your legs further, making room for him to settle between them.

Your back arched against the cool surface, the contrast of heat and cold heightening every sensation. His lips left yours only to trail down your jaw, his breath hot and uneven as it ghosted over your skin. The tension in the air was suffocating, an unspoken challenge lingering between each frantic touch.

It was a fight neither of you was willing to lose, and yet, the way his hands moved, the way his lips devoured, it was clear he wasn’t about to let you win.

Your hands reached for the sweatshirt on his broad, muscular shoulders and tossed it to the floor. The gap between kisses was long enough for you to lift your own top and rip it off eagerly. You could have sworn you heard an almost beastly growl emanating from Bangchan, something completely charged with lust.

A large, calloused hand grabbed your throat, making you choke. His finger pressed against your lip, which you licked religiously, giving him a taste of what was coming. Bangchan pressed your body until you collided with the wall and your hands clung to the rim of the table. And in due time he nibbled your tit, snaking his tongue around it, savoring the tenderness of your skin.

You bit your lip down and held back a moan. Your gut rippled like the ocean waves as the intoxicating rush grew in your belly, down your legs, and scorched your toes.

You felt his hand come close to your wet core and your whole body went on alert. Bangchan bit your nipple and looked at you only to see the girl with her lips wide open, eyes bright and flushed cheeks.

This sight could kill him.

Just as he was about to come to your lips again, a knock sounded at the door. You instinctively ducked behind him, your heart hammering in your chest "Oops, sorry man!" The boy's voice echoed through the room, and with a snap, the door slammed shut.

A rush of adrenaline surged through you—not from what was happening, but the brief panic of being caught. It was ridiculous, but the sensation gripped you harder than you’d like to admit.

"Shit, I’ll lock it."

Biting your lip at the image of the man walking to the door and then to you. His lips swollen from kissing your body, the marks of nails on his chest, his messy hair, it was a perfect match.

"You know what, I'm rethinking the whole pant thing. Maybe I'll fuck you in 'em." Before he could finish, you cupped his face in both hands, stopping him in his tracks. His eyebrow quirked in interest, a silent question hanging in the air.

“I just remembered,” you said with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “A few minutes ago, you were, well... y'know. Right there.”

You both glanced toward the corner of the room, the absurdity of the situation hitting you at the same time. And, with a shared moment of clarity, laughter bubbled out of you, the tension briefly breaking.

"Right.'" He captured your mouth. Bangchan said, that familiar cocky smirk now full force. “I can fuck you anywhere,” he kissed you again, and then you lost your breath. "the backseat of my car," Again a kiss. "Any fucking place. But we can start here."

In a daze, you clung to each other like two animals. Every second you begged for air, he devoured your mouth more and more. His nimble hands fought against your pants. He wanted to touch you, to feel you.

Growling, he added. "Lift your hips for me."

You, overtaken by lust, quickly bent down on the table so that he could unbutton your pants and pull them all the way down, past your boots, which also reached down to the other side of the bedroom.

Bangchan held the back of your knees and marveled at the sight of your bare body. It was like a damn mirage. The skimpy pink panties were nothing, showing all your dampness. There was no trace of embarrassment on your face, just an unbridled urge to be taken by him.

Absorbed to your body, Bangchan held your neck with both of his hands, this time tilting your body backwards. With his own body, he splayed your legs with his free hand. Your intimacies were bare, your body bathed in the dim light streaming through the nearby window.

He captured your mouth and ran his fingers over the cloth. He squeezed his fingertips against your clit, making your clenched teeth grind together. Feeling his hand around your nape of the neck, the lack of oxygen in your lungs and the short circuit from the friction of his hand down there was electrical.

Bangchan wriggled over the fabric in slow, painful circular motions. He was excruciatingly hard inside the sweatpants. He wanted to take off and make a mess of you, but first he wanted to relish every second and push you to the limit.

"My God." Words slipped from your lips, preaching to the divine, as you felt yourself being ravished.

Bangchan stretched the fabric and stroked the core with his fingers, wetting them without caring. How he looked at you, how he looked at your tight pussy was erotic. The noises you made when he slid his fingers through your labia and then threatened to push in two fingers at the one time. It was the sensation near death. You could feel an orgasm coming gradually, in heavy, lusty waves.

If he didn't stop teasing you, you'd come too fast.

"Hang in there, baby." He brushed a finger across your lips, sliding them into your warm, wet mouth. Everything was intensified by the endearing pet name. You got proof that the rumors were true. "Spread for me... Like that." You raised your legs and placed your feet on the table, giving him a full view of your body.

You could feel the wetness everywhere. Bangchan took two fingers in your mouth and let you suck them like a piece of candy. Without taking your eyes off him for a second, you went along with it.

"Good girl."

And with the same fingers, he delved into you. His fingers in the precise curl, in the precise place that made you cry out. And if the music hadn't been deafening, everyone at the party would have heard you moaning under his fingers.

By sucking on your lower lip, he began a unique rhythm. According to the rhythm of your body snaking around him, Chan went harder and faster. Your lips opened impulsively, flowing under his. Wide-eyed, your face froze into an ethereal feature, fogged with bliss.

You took hold of his wrist, the hand in which he was thrusting into you, and forced him to go faster. You desperately wanted - needed - to reach the body-rattling orgasm. It was already becoming impossible to hide the screams that tore from your throat. He was just very skilled at doing it and left you craving more.

“Bangchan...” A pitying look on your face made him break out into a maniacal smirk. To hear his own name coming from your mouth was like a narcotic being shot into his veins. He wanted better, he wanted you to realize what you had done to him.

Letting go of your throat, which until then had been under his grasp, Bangchan got down on his knees and dived into your pussy. You groped your hand to stop yourself from bawling. Your raw nerves were on edge and any more stimulation would make you burst. But he was relentless. With his savvy tongue, he outlined movements on your clit, leaving your moistness to rub through his lips and all over your core.

“Shit, shit, shit...” You purred. Suddenly, holding onto the dark strands of the boy in front of you, bringing your body closer, provoking more friction. Bangchan took advantage of every second, kissing and suckling your vulnerable flesh, swirling around your core and tongue teasing your insides.

You were rolling on his face. Sweat trickled down your spine and temples. Incoherent utterances came from your lips as muffled moans tore from Bangchan's deep throat. That pain was building, growing in your stomach. Your body was moving in an illogical way and Bangchan had to place his palm on your lower stomach to keep you from moving.

And that's when, with his mouth still on your cunt, he pinched your clit, making you seize up. The orgasm struck you hard, spewing electric waves throughout your body, leaving you sluggish and weak. Bangchan kept hold of your body as you fell apart, an disembodied vision.

You cried out his name as you came and he made you swallow every single moan.

“Mmm, you're so fucking hot when you cum for me.”

You sat on the edge again, spreading Chan's arm muscles. Looking down, you caught yourself wondering at the sight of his hard cock framing the edge of his pants like a carving, too beautiful to just look at.

Your hands went down to the edge of the white sweatpants he was still wearing - quite unfair, given that you were only wearing a pair of panties that were now barely fit for anything. A cocky smile hung on the man's lips. He enjoyed it with his hands on the table as you took it off, gawping at the size of it. The girth. The form. It was surreal.

Bangchan was holding back. He'd dreamt of having your hands and mouth around his cock for a very long time. And now, you were there, stroking him back and forth, in a slow, excruciating rhythm. He could let you have a taste and get on your knees to him. He'd fuck your mouth so relentlessly that you'd never have another smart-ass word for him. You'd always remember that one moment.

But he was overwhelmed by the mirage of your body and the sounds it caused in you.

“Oh, fuck.” A guttural moan broke from his lips. With his mouth open, he looked at where you were fucking him, your soft hand stroking his length. It was too much. He wasn't going to last. “I need you to stop.”

“Why?”

Chan squeezed your thighs together, hating himself for not feeling your touch where he needed it most.

“As much as I want you on your knees for me, I really need to fuck you.”

You chewed your lip, sensing the heat coming back to your face and your core. "Save that pretty little mouth for next time. Yeah?"

Next time. The phrase lingered in your head, leaving you with a queasy feeling in your gut.

With one hand, he spread your legs and held your leg up high enough for him to have the reach he needed to make you come a second time. That was his trick. He knew what he was doing too well, and you loathed him for it.

“Chan...” You whimpered. He grunted and brought your bodies together. He held the shaft of his own cock and stroked it for a few seconds before brushing the tip against your slit. You gasped for air at the feeling. "Please. Chan." You pleaded, searching his eyes. It was too much of a torture and you wouldn't be able to bear it if he wasn't fast.

“Fuck, don't do it like that...” He whined, still thrusting into your hole with his own cock. “Fucking Christ.” Your wetness made him slide between the clit and the slit. Your eyes went wide, collapsing. Meanwhile, Chan was glued to the point where you connected.

Slowly, he slipped in. A moan in unison reverberated almost in praise.

He knew it wouldn't last long. Being deep inside you was driving him insane. You were making him slip, making the movements clumsy but so delicious. Bangchan pressed down on your calf, pinning it to his chest. You leaned over, holding onto his shoulder. The sight was like a fucking movie scene.

You entwined as one.

Bangchan took his time to lengthen his movements, first because he could feel every inch of your pussy swallow him up. It was so fucking good. He nibbled his lip tightly, gliding in a little more, causing you to whimper.

“Faster.” Pleas burst from your ruined lips.

“Fuuuuck.” Bangchan upped the pace, a frantic and luscious back and forth. “You're fuckin' surreal.”

He could have been saying anything, but your brain was thawing, your body morphing. Being stuffed until his balls hit your skin was opulent. Their bodies met halfway, each moving as fast as possible to get themselves there. Bangchan had to hold onto the table to avoid a hole in the wall. The furniture kept bouncing in line with your bodies.

The rapturous feeling fills you and takes you to the edge. What was left of the room was a mess of panting and skin on skin. Your hips rode the width of him. He was falling to pieces little by little, feeling his body combust.

From the way his veins seemed more prominent and thicker, his neck stiff, his sweat accentuating his smooth skin, you could tell. You rocked your body vigorously back and forth, giving him deep, dry thrusts. Bangchan then reached a point set aside to take you to heaven.

When the groans dared escape your lips, he devoured them, one by one, eating up the pleas, his name coming out of your mouth like a holy prayer that only he would hear. That was enough time for your body to succumb to the fierce orgasm and for Bangchan to pull out, thrusting with his own hand and letting go on your sweat-damp stomach.

You were still hanging on to his shoulder, trying to find your feet. Both panting and with your eyes closed, you seemed to recover some consciousness. His eyes were still clouded with desire, in a hue you had never yet witnessed.

“Well,” you said between chuckles. “I think you've just proved your point.”

Bangchan laughed and then helped you up from the desk. Your clothes were scattered around the room, your boots under a stranger's bed. You cleaned up and dressed. Make-up was intact, but your hair was a tangled mess. He watched from the corner of his eye as he put on his own underwear.

After a brief fix in the mirror, you turned around a little awkwardly, as if he hadn't just given you the best sex of your entire life.

“So, I'm going out first... Just in case... You know, anyone sees me.”

In fairness, he was quite taken aback. He hadn’t expected what had just happened to mean anything to you, but there was a part of him—just a sliver—that hoped it might shift your perspective. The realization stung his pride, but he masked it, keeping the quiet frustration buried deep inside.

"Yeah. Whatever."

You shot him a glance, your expression unreadable. "All right. Well, I guess... that’s it. I’ll see you around."

Your smile was soft, but there was an undertone of something more—a knot in your chest that wouldn’t let go. He nodded, his face as impassive as ever, his eyes giving nothing away.

With a soft exhale, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it, eyes squeezed shut.

What the fuck had you just done?

[bang-chan-my-man]

stray kids chan ~

[skzthelomlhehe]

He walks in on you while you're... 🫣

1. Chan & Minho

Warning: smut. Just. Pure smut. Degradation, daddy kink, cunnilingus, bj, lap sitting. Reader is called slvt and a wh0re

Synopsis: Reader has been in a relationship with the member for a few months now. Despite that, any intimacy beyond making out or cuddling never happened. That's gonna change when the reader's boyfriend walks in at the not so wrong time.

Established relationship

MDNI

Masterlist

Tag reqs: @bluesungology @diabolicalkitkat @capricorn-girl0112 @daysofskz-ateez @neginktn @seoul1207

Smut under the cut:

• Bang Chan 방찬

He would come home from the studio or practice or whatever he had been up to the entire day expecting to like cuddle and destress. He calls out to you as he walks in with no response. When he walks up to your bedroom, he hears some... Noises.

Will he fear the worst? Absolutely. But will he have the biggest boner when he hears you moan his name and call him daddy? Oh fuck yeah. When he pushes that door open (the door that you may or may not have forgotten to lock) he'd just... He'd lose it.

You'd scramble to cover up only to give up cuz hey, he's seen what he's seen. There's no going back now. He'd inch closer to you with this hungry look in his eyes that makes your breath hitch and your pussy wet even more than it already was.

"being naughty, weren't you?" He'd whisper in your ear. Just enough to tease you. His lips ghosting over your skin. "I didn't know you had a daddy kink... Were you having fun with this stupid toy? Hm?" And then shove in the toy even further than it already was.

He would look you straight in the eye. Sure, he might act all tough and everything but damn is he probably dying on the inside to see you like that.

"s-sorry..." You'd mumble. "Sorry for what?" He'd whisper again. "F-for... C-calling you daddy... And... Doing... This..." He would let out a breathy chuckle and kiss your lips softly.

"No... Don't be sorry. I liked it when you moaned like that... Keep going..." You would look at him, dumbfounded? Sorta. Surprised? If you've known him long enough, absolutely not. We all know he's got a huge thing for begging, don't we? (Redirecting to "that would make me your... Da... Ddy...?" And "say please?" And many more)

This would mark the beginning of your lustful, pleasureful intimacy. He'd make you beg for more. He'd make you scream his name. And then he'd treat you like the princess that you are.

He'd call you a good girl. Tell you how fucking beautiful you are and how you're taking him in so well. He'll kiss you and mark you almost everywhere. He'd pin you down. Grab you by the hair and push you deeper when giving him a head. He'd look at you like you're a work of fucking art cuz you really are.

When you're done, he's gonna clean you up. Probably pound you in the shower as a 'one last round' and leave you gasping. Brain all mushy. No thoughts. Just fucks. Fucks from your daddy~

• Lee Minho 이민허

Will he eye fuck you from the door frame? Yes. Will he possibly sneak up on you like the cat he is? Also yes. Will he fuck you like a rabbit in heat? I mean come on, his skzoo is literally a bunny. Ofc he will!

He's gonna make you sit on his lap and make out with you until you can barely breathe while he squeezes your waist to hold you in place. Probably gonna make you grind against his lap too, who knows~

"couldn't wait for me a little more, yeah? Had to be such a slut and get started alone?" He'd growl as he eats you the fuck out.

I feel like he's the typa guy who would get pussy drunk as he eats you out. And once he's done, he's gonna expect a good fckn head.

Well, who are you to deny him that when he ate you so well, right?

Oh god why do I feel like he's gonna be degrading? I can imagine him going "oh you're such a fucking whore... Look at you riding me like that. You having fun, baby?" He'd look at you with intense eyes, lust oozing out of his gaze as he squeezes you tight.

"Who do you belong to? Go on. Tell me."

"y-you! I belong to you~!"

He'd smile, extremely satisfied by your answer. Probably gonna creampie you (only if you want him to) and call you names.

But in the end of the day, you're his bitch and the love of his life and you absolutely love it when he's rough.

Cuz, again, y'all hella freaky 😔

Hes gonna mark you up everywhere he can. Call you a good girl cuz you're being so good. He'll run his hand through your body. He's gonna take his time ravishing every part of you.

When all's done, he's gonna take his time cleaning you up. He's not one to express his feelings much, but he'd let out a few whispery "I love you"s every now and then and cuddle you to sleep.

Here's a minchan edit cuz why not :3

[fenya-scribbles]

Escape

Pairing: Bangchan x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend went too far this time and Chan picks up the pieces.

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers?

Content warnings: mentions of domestic violence, mentions of blood, curse words, nudity (non-sexual), lmk if I missed something :)

Word Count: 674

A/N: My first Stray Kids fic, inspired by The Last Night by Skillet. It just came to me. If anyone's interested, I could see myself doing one of these for the other members as well.

When you turned up at Chan’s door, you didn’t even remember how you got there. You just remembered leaving your boyfriend’s place, running through the rain without a jacket, freezing and bleeding and crying. You just remembered the fear in your bones. And now you were here. 

It was the middle of the night, but you knew Chan was awake. Chan seemingly never slept, which often made you worry about him. But right now you were glad about it, because he didn’t take long to open the door. “Y/N?” His curious look quickly turned into a worried one. “Fuck, what happened to you?”, he asked as he pulled you into his apartment. 

You wanted to tell him, you really did, but all you could to was break down crying. He immediately pulled your rain soaked body against him, arms locking tightly around you as you started to sob uncontrollably. “Hey, hey”, he spoke softly, gently running his hand over your hair. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I got you.”

You stood there crying for what felt like forever, but eventually your sobs died down and you motioned for Chan to let go of you. He did so just enough to be able to look at you. “You’re bleeding, Y/N. What the fuck happened?” He said as he pushed a wet strain of hair out of your face. You swallowed hard. 

“It was my fault”, you said. “I dropped a plate. I should’ve been more careful.” Chan raised his eyebrows. “Your fucking boyfriend did this?” He sounded angry now and you flinched at his tone. “Hey, hey, sorry”, he immediately softened his voice. His eyes went to the bleeding cut on your cheek. “I need you to know that this was not your fault.” You opened your mouth to disagree, but he immediately interrupted you. “Don’t even think about blaming this on yourself. Your boyfriend is an aggressive asshole. You’re not going back there.” 

You were too tired to argue, the heaviness of the situation suddenly hitting you like a freight train, so you just let Chan take you to the bathroom, where he treated your wound. “How about you take a hot bath, hm?”, he proposed, “Wash that pathetic excuse of a man off your skin?” 

It was so nice to be taken care of by Chan. He’d been your best friend for years and he’d never liked your boyfriend. Of course, your boyfriend had also not liked Chan and had tried to break up your friendship multiple times. Chan wouldn’t have any of that, and in this moment you were eternally grateful for that. 

Chan started to run the bath and then helped you out of your soaked clothes. Under different circumstances you might have felt embarrassed to be naked in front of him, but there was no energy for shame left in you. Chan was respectful and gentle, helping you into the hot water and proceeding to wash you with a soft sponge. 

“Can I stay the night?”, you said eventually. “I already told you, princess, you’re not going back there.” “What about tomorrow?” “You’re never going back there. I’ll handle it.” You looked up at him with tired eyes. “Really? He’ll be pissed if you show up instead of me.” Chan let out a huff. “Don’t worry, princess, I can take him.” 

Chan proceeded to wash you, wrap you into a soft towel and carry you to his bedroom. You didn’t fight it, didn’t want to fight it. Chan had always been your comfort person and he was exactly what you needed right now. “Get some sleep, princess”, he whispered as he tucked you in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

When he got up to leave, you reached for his hand. “Please”, you said sleepily, “don’t leave me alone.” He smiled and laid down beside you. “Alright.” He wrapped his arms around you, shrouding you in warmth, safety and comfort. “Never leave me alone”, you whispered. “I promise, princess, you will never have to spend a night alone again.” 

Masterlist

[akindaflora]

The Barter System

Bangchan (Idol) x Reader

Genre: Crack, Fluff

Warning: I did hop around from full names and nick names but I tried to stick to a few. But I think this is an overall SFW. pretty light hearted.

Description: You got tried of the other members of Stray Kids coming and stealing your man so you came up with a system to enjoy more time with him.

AN: A somewhat short post but I genuinely do love the barter system. Fun fact its how I've gotten most of my tattoos. I don't know how funny this will be but I had fun writing it so ITS FUNNY TO ME!

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

“Okay Y/N I’ve got a chocolate bar and a Mogu Mogu drink. How many hours will that get me?” Han said after emptying out his bag. The value of the items was definitely appealing but not worth the price of what you have to offer. And Han knew better, his eyes grew big with hope you would catch him a break from your intense inspection. But you were trained for this wanting nothing but the best and this just didn't seem worthy of the price.

You raise your eyebrow, inspecting the brand of chocolate and flavor of drink but only sigh in distress. “At best this gets you 30 minutes of my time, your better than this Jisung you know what i have on the market is very valuable to me,” you said crossing your arms and leaning on the door of Chan's room. Jisung's eyes fell snapping at the truth your words brought.

Hearing a deep laughter in the room Chan only shook his head. Ever since you both got together you had always been slightly annoyed at the guys stealing Chan away especially when it was his off day. And you having a strong hardworking man of a boyfriend who always treated his members and you, of course, as his high priority. And you cherished his care for his career and his friends but was it a crime to not feel a bit annoyed when he never seemed to have a day off. Was it so wrong to want a monopoly on your hot boyfriend time? After mulling it over you could only come up with a no, so you came up with a system where they would have to barter something valuable for Chan's time.

Chan thought it was cute, he secretly loved how you wanted to cling to him a bit on his off days and he knew it had to be hard on you with his work. So he let you bring it up to the members and after some serious convincing and a PowerPoint, the boys were game. After each relationship milestone, the price for his time grew more and even if he found it ridiculous he’d allow it since it gave him more time to himself and you.

This time Han had come knocking after you two were cuddling and watching a movie. Saying he needed Chan for a few hours for some help with a track he was producing for his solo. But if he thought a simple chocolate bar and a fruity Mogu drink was enough. He was incredibly mistaken. At first, you were lenient on the offers wanting to get the boys excited but after the first love-yous and meeting the parents you grew more serious as the relationship grew. And things like this weren't gonna cut it.

“You drive a hard bargain Y/N,” he stood for a minute thinking what he could get that would be valuable enough.

“How about this, throw in the chocolate bar and the drink and and I’ll get you the Bang Chan accordion from ATE,” he said with a hopeful smirk.

You only laughed briefly, “I already have the Bang Chan accordion this ain’t my first rodeo quokka. Besides no product no Channie,” You said with a smirk crossing your arms. A slight thick New York accent peaking threw you've been practicing for these moments.

He only sighed in defeat, “I’ll be back L/N” he said walking away and pointing in your direction, “Just you wait I’ll have the deal of lifetime,” he said slowly creeping into the hallway before his back bumped into the wall. Maybe you all had watched wayyy too many Mafia movies, Chan thought to himself. But only laughed at your back and forth.

You laughed quickly before asking if he was alright to which he gave a thumbs up not before pointing again as you closed the door.

Turning around you jumped back on the bed to a laughing chan as you snuggled in close again. Him riddled with laughter.

“Baby I can’t with you,” he said still laughing at your antics. Before you could reply another knock came by. You only grumbled as you walked to the door this time A bald Kiwi holding a painting of Chan and you with a bag of Rose Tteokbokki. Your favorite, if anyone was really asking. Hyunjin seemed to always know what would pique your interest, this was a man who knew how to bargain.

You raised your eyebrows at the offer, “How long” you simply said not giving away your interest in what he had to offer. But at the sound of a simple phrase Jinnie knew he had you.

“Only two hours, I would like Channie to advise on a personal problem I’m having.” Your heart softens a little at the words. Granted, this would have definitely bought Hyunjin at least five hours, but he didn’t need to know that, did he?

Wanting to drag this deal out a little you asked about the goods, "When did you paint this?" you asked truly curious.

"I've got a few things in stock for moments like these." Is all he said hands in pockets rocking back and forth as you held the items. After looking closely you nodded at his preparation and skills.

You looked back at Chan who only nodded at the decent offer before looking at a hopeful ferret.

“Okay you have until,” looking at your watch “8:22,” you said grabbing the items. “If he not back by then I will be coming to repossess what’s mine,” You said. He only quickly nodded shaking your hand at the deal being sealed as you motioned Channie to follow Hyunjin.

Grabbing the items you lay the painting on Chan's bed and carefully took the takeout out of the bag as you ate at his desk. Grinning big at your treasures. Chan only shook his head and giggled before kissing your head and following Hyunjin out of the room.

As you settled into eating another knock came. You opened the door to a desperate Han with a stuffed animal in one hand and Doonie, one of the three Lee Knows cats in hand.

“Okay so how about this stuffed animal, Lee Know cat and the chocolate and the drink,” he said with hopeful eyes.

You only sighed, “One this would have bought you three hours at the most. Two does Minho, know you have his cat, and three you're too late Jinne already traded me two hours for takeout and this hand-painted photo of us.” you said showing him the painting with pride.

Han only cursed but before he could reply a loud Ya was heard. You peeked your head out to see an angry Lee Know with a wooden spoon rushing towards Han. You quickly ducked back into the room closing the door. To only hear a loud meow and a scream from Han as he was trying to run away. Key word tried.

TWO HOURS LATER

You had been lying on Chan's bed as you went to find another show to watch. The door opened to a smiling Chan as he saw you tucked into his bed. He only ran to jump in and cuddle you close. He nuzzled his head into your neck taking a whiff of your scent and sighing as you giggle at his antics.

“Is Jinne alright?” you asked after finishing laughing, “yeah he was just stressed about some work things.” He said after a few minutes of hiding into your neck. He finally got changed as he slipped under the covers pulling you close. His strong arm secures you in his warmth. You sighed in bliss at the sound of his heart close to your ear and the soft circles he rubbed into your back. Your version of Heaven already manifested before your eyes.

“Oh yeah by the way what was that screaming I heard earlier,” he asked curiously probably too focused on helping Jinne he didn’t even care to check.

You giggled at the memory, “Han tried to trade you for one of Lee Know's cats and I guess he didn’t ask because Lee Know came running down the hall with a wooden spoon. I closed the door before he could so I don’t really know if Han ever made it to safety,” you said looking off into the distance as if still questioning Han safety.

He leaned back to look at you for a hot second even blinking trying to see if you were lying but when he only found the truth, he bubbled over with laughter. You could fill the ripples of his joy that shook his body. His laugh was so contagious you laughed with him thinking of the sight you saw.

Man did you love the barter system. And you loved Chan truly the best of both worlds.

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

After writing notes : Hope this was enough Crack for you! I truly wonder if Han actually made it to safety? I couldn't help but think what would I do if I had a busy bee of a boyfriend like Chan, who was needed by literally everyone and I think if he was truly game maybe this would work. What do you think?

-Yaya

[slvtforoldermen]

you know sometimes I just sit there and think…

bangchan has the best stomach to do a bodyshot off of

[strrykais]

(𐙚) husband texts with bang chan

right after your marriage you knew you wanted to have a baby with chan, only for him to say not right now. crazy after years you spent together he still doesn't realize how stubborn you can be.

「 authors note 」 such a pretty pretty boy.. i need him. | click here for masterlist

ⓒ strrykais

permanent taglist: @hyunestrella @spicy-sawdust @charlieg1rl @gnabnahcbby @totheseok @mystverse @jisungs-iced-americano @kimseungminpabo @bookswillfindyouaway @puppy-minnie @katchowbbie @night-storm7 @auroratiseee @goldenmellow @thisrandombitch @jeonginnieswifey @staytinyluv @sellomaybe @embrr0-0 @skysole @minkieater

[hannamoon143]

♡ Stick together♡

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, a bit angst?

husband! chan x pregnant fem. reader

wordcount: 2,1k

warnings: silly fluffy fluff stuff, crying, injury, blood, pregnancy (obviously),

a/n: Hii, hope yall like this. Now i will concentrate on doing a upcoming fall series, that will soon be announced. Have a great day<33 enjoy

not proofread

Could this day be possibly worse? Besides the fact that the morning nausea took over you, your boss also yelled at you for getting a sentence at your presentation wrong.All day long you had to smile and be polite, when your mood dropped with every moody person that you had to deal with. All you wanted now was to come home, eat something and snuggle up on the couch with chan. But since he was for sure working late, a drama would have to take his place.

Finally you reached your house, going in. You and chans daughter haneuls babysitter was standing at the door, slipping her shoes on.„Hey y/n, haneul is sleeping, she ate dinner and brushed her teeth after showering, so everything should be done.“

You smiled at the young woman, thanking her and saying goodbye She was haneuls babysitter for already a year, and never made problems. And since haneul liked her too, it was a win win situation. So now, she was leaving, and you quietly put your coat on the stove, and then went into the kitchen. Maybe you could make some ramen and then watch a drama. You looked at the clock. It was still going to be a while until your husband would come home. You sighed and started cooking your ramen.

Unfortunately you burned your hand by accidentally spilling the hot water onto it. Seriously? You cursed under your breath, rinsing it with cold water. It felt like everything that could possibly go wrong today was going wrong. You know it was probably just the hormones that everything riled you up so much today but you didnt care. Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes. You took a deep breath in, and tried to remind yourself that everything was okay.

You took out your favorite bowl out the cuppoard, the one Chan gifted you for your first anniversary. But you should have been more attentive, because in the next moment you slipped. The water that spilled down on the floor when you burned your hand earlier was in small puddles over the floor. You didn’t see it and stepped directly into them. Nothing happened to you, you managed to catch the edge of the kitchencounter, so you remained standing, but the bowl fell to the ground, and burst into too many pieces to count.

You stared down at the mess, the loud noise and sharp ceramic pieses everywhere had startled you, and you tried to supress the fact that you just ruined your favorite bowl. The bowl chan gifted you. With trembling hands you crouched down to the floor, trying to collect the pieces, but then you accidentaly cut yourself with one. It left a burning, sharp pain. You quickly let the pieces fall, yelping at the feeling. Soon the small line got covered in red.

It was too much. You couldn’t hold it together anymore. You slid down to the floor with your back to the kitchen counter, your throat tightening. Hot tears were running down your cheeks. This, everything was frustrating you so much. You were pretty sure it was mostly because of the hormones of the pregnancy. But that also didn’t stop you from feeling like this.  Helpless you wiped the blood of your hand with the hem of your shirt. Quiet sobs were escaping your mouth. You felt gross, a suffocating feeling in your stomach when you looked at the blood. You felt pathetic when you thought of the fact that you were sitting, crying on the kitchen floor

You should clean up, care fort he injury and just go eat, but something stopped you. You just remained on the floor, crying helplessly.

That was until you suddenly saw tiny legs standing in front of you. Your head perked up and you were surpised to see haneul standing there. Immediately you wiped the tears away, and put a small smile on.

„Hey, i thought you were already sleeping sweetie?“

She just looked at you, her eyes darting from your face, to the mess around you, and then to your bloody knuckle.

„What happened mommy?“ she asked, her gaze still looking around.

„Nothing sweetie, i just let the bowl fall, it’s okay, i’ll clean it up. Just go back to bed alright?“

She seemed to be thinking for a moment and then slowly shook her head.

„But you are hurt, and there is water from your eyes on your face.“

You could have almost laughed at her description of your tears. Then before you could say anything, she added:

„Is daddy home?“

The question caught you a bit off guard but you just shook your head at it.

„Really hannie, i promise i’m okay, you can go back to sleep. And you don’t have to tell daddy okay?“

She continued simply looking at you, her little brain seemingly thinking through her options. Without another words she tapped away, so you thought she finally was going back to bed.

But haneul didn’t even think about doing that, stubborn like she is, just like her father. She quietly tapped to the wardrobe, taking your phone out your coat.. She was proud she remembered your code from the one time when she looked over your shoulder. She searched for chan’s contact. She didn’t learn how to read yet, but when she saw the picture of her father she knew it was his contact. She tapped the call icon and put the phone to her ear. After a few ringings chan picked up, and haneul got excited when she heard her dad’s voice. You usually never let her call him while he is at work.

„Hey y/nnie, Whats up?“

„It’s me daddy!“ haneul happily cheered into the speaker.

„oh hi hannie, what’s up, do you need something? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?“ he sounded a bit concerned, not entirely sure why his little daughter would phone him at 8:30 p.m. when she should be asleep already.

Haneul ignored her dads scolding about being asleep and instead came to her point immediately.

„Mommy is crying in the kitchen right now, and her hand is red and everywhere around here are sharp pieces of the bowl she loves so much. Mommy said she is alright and i should not tell you, but you always tell me family sticks together, in good and in bad, so i had to call you right?“ The little girl nervously rambled, not sure if it was right that she called her dad.

Chan’s heart swelled a bit at her words that he had said so often before. Truly you and him raised a kind little girl. But then he quickly remembered the rest of her words, and got concerened again.

„Yes it was good you called me, i’m proud of you. But why is her hand red hannie? Do you mean she is bleeding?“

Haneul agreed and then chan was quick to tell her he would be there in ten minutes.

He took his things as fast as he could, leaving the studio. When his pregnant wife was sitting on the kitchen floor, bleeding and crying, something was not right, and he would not sit at work any minute longer.

As chan got home, haneul was sitting by the door, playing with a plushie. As she heard the door open she immediately jumped up.

„Come on daddy, i don’t think mommy has moved since i called you.“

Chan took his jacket and shoes off, haneul pulling at his sleeve. Then he went into the kitchen, taking haneul into his arms, so she wouldn’t get hurt by the sharp pieces of the bowl.

As you heard footsteps approaching you raised your head from your knees that you had tightly pulled up, only to see chan, looking at you with your daughter in his arms. He quickly sat her down on the counter and crouched down next to you, careful not to step onto the sharp things.

„y/nnie, baby what happened?“ he asked, his hand stroking some half dried tears away.

„I-i was just so…the bowl, it fell and… the whole day, it was so… and i got overwhelmed and it’s just-“ you stuttered, looking at him with glossy eyes.

He looked at you once more, taking in your tear streaked, exhausted face, the injured hand, the other one at your belly in a loving, protecting motion. It was clear that your day must have been tiring and you were exhausted and overwhelmed. His eyes softened and he didn’t hesitate, standing up and scooping you into his arms. Neither of you said something, and haneul just watched. Gently, chan carried you to the couch in the living room, laying you down. He told haneul to get you a blanket, and he was getting stuff to treat your injuries.The little girl brought you a fluffy blanket, and she tossed it messily over you, cuddling into your side herself. You wrapped an arm around her. Then chan came back with a bunch of bandage stuff. He wiped the blood of your hand, then desinfected it, at wich you hissed, and he mumbled soothing apologies. At the end he gently wrapped a bandage around your hand.  

„Does it feel better?“ Haneul asked, inspecting your hand now. She took your bandaged knuckles in her own tiny hand, and placed a little kiss on it. Your heart swelled at the motion and you nodded, tenderly stroking her head.

„Good because, you also always do that and it makes every ouch better.“ She explained with wild hand gestures.

Chan watched the scene. He felt such love and admiration for both his girls, and the little boy that didn’t even know him yet too.

„I’ll go clean up in the kitchen alright love?“ He softly said, kissing you on your forehead.

„Oh about that… It was the bowl you gifted me for our first anniversary.“ You said, the smile disappearing from your face again.

„Hey, i knew it meant a lot to you, but it’s alright hm? I can gift you a thousand more, if that would make you happy.“ He said with a smile, and then he stood up, going into the kitchen. You looked after him. How was this perfect loving man your husband?

You looked down at haneul, stroking her head. „Why did you even call your dad hannie?“

She gazed up at you, snuggling to you even more. „Daddy always says that family is always there for each other, if we are happy and laughing, but also if we are sad and crying.“ She said, proud to know her dad‘s words. Your eyes got shiny again. Just like chan before, you were so proud of your kind, little daugther, and that chan and you had the honor to be the parents of haneul.

Suddenly, she raised her head a bit and then laid it to your belly. „Mommy why does your belly feel so weird?“ She asked, sounding confused. It was so cute, you wanted to just hold this memory forever.

„You will get a baby brother haneul.“ You said, holding your breath. You weren’t sure how she would react. For a moment she stared at you, then at your belly, then at your face again. „And he is in there?“ she said, with a shocked face. You started giggling. „Yes he is.“ Haneuls face lit up. „Ohhh, then i’ll be the best big sister he ever had. Can we call him seungmin mommy? Like daddy’s dog friend! Or maybe doongie, like the cat from uncle minho!“  You laughed at her random name reccomendations. You were glad she was so excited.

Chan was done cleaning the kitchen so he was coming back, watching the heartwarming scene in front of him with a fond smile on his face. He walked over to you two again and sat down next to you on the couch. With a smile you cuddled up in his arms, him brushing his fingers through your hair in a tender motion. You continued holding haneul, all three of you snuggled up like this now.

 And haneul? She was holding onto your belly, protecting her little brother from this very first moment on.

This family was all you could ever want. A loving, caring husband, the kindest little daughter, and soon a little baby boy, that was looking exactly like chan, with the name Eunwoo. And as haneul said, you were a family, and family sticks together, in sadness as much as in happiness

a/n: tell me what u think of it<33, im sorry for roasting seungmin a bit :3 Also thanks to my @darqlys for letting me yap about my 100 different ideas, and helping me choose the right things<333

taglist: @lina-linny @0omillo0 @darqlys @onementally-unstabel-kid

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐞—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Biker AU, Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: A certain dark haired leader of a biker club caught your attention online and you've been watching his weekly races in secret—or so you thought. Little did you know, this handsome biker already knows about his cute little stalker...

Content Warnings: Stalking but online. Smut🔞 after a bit of plot. Unprotected sex, P in V (from the behind), riding, rough, dirty talk(?), ass slapping, pet names, choking(kinda—), aftercare in the shower. Chris is a tease (maybe like a bit?).

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: 17 days late, but better than never— HAPPY NEW YEAR! I've been wanting to draw and write biker Chan for a LONG LONG TIME, so finally here it is. (Yes that drawing is done by me haha)

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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The bike flashed away into the stretching tracks in a blink of an eye, leaving a trail of excitement and dust in its wake. The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices drowned out by the fading growl of the engine.

You pushed your hood further over your head to cover your hair flying in that direction, blending into the mass of onlookers while your eyes stayed glued to the figure disappearing into the night.

Christopher Bang Chan.

Did an accidental misclick on a hashtag "NightRider" lead you into his world? Yes.

You did have an unexplainable attraction towards bikes. It was the thrill, the speed, the freedom. Even if you couldn't ride one, the way bikes looked like a beast that could conquer the roads, it fascinated you.

But this— this wasn't just an attraction towards the sleek BMW S1000rr that was speeding this evening. No.

A random late-night scroll had led you to a short video of him—helmet off, his hair dark slightly tousled, a cocky grin tugging at his lips as he dismounted his bike like he owned the world. That pulled you like a magnet to steel.

You watched him, racing the tracks with swift motion, in practice ease, over taking every other rider, everything about him demanding attention.

Every other rider was left in his dust, and the cheers of his friends, 7 guys echoed above the deafening roar of the engines.

"Teach these bastards why they can’t touch you!” one of them bellowed, pumping his fist in the air, his blood red hair catching the rays of the setting sun.

“Eat that, losers!” another laughed, slapping the back of the guy next to him as they all leaned against their bikes, eyes glued to Chan’s figure dominating the track.

In a final swift, Chan drifted his bike as he reached the finish line, the tires screeching against the asphalt in a perfect arc. A plume of smoke curled up from under the wheels, his dimpled grin flashing at his victory and triumph.

The lingering growl of his bike continued as he sat there for a moment, one leg propped on the ground as if soaking in the chaos he had just commanded. His friends were the loudest of all, their jeers and cackles cutting through the noise.

Chan finally killed the engine and swung off the bike with the same effortless grace that had first caught your attention online. He pulled off his helmet, shaking his head slightly to ruffle his dark hair into place.

His eyes gleamed with a mix of adrenaline and triumph as he tucked the helmet under one arm and began walking toward his friends.

“That’s how it’s done, you fucking legend!” yelled one in a strong Australian accent, smacking Chan’s shoulder, the redhead taking his helmet from him and handing in a water bottle.

“Told you it wasn’t even a competition,” Chan quipped, his voice smooth but laced with that cocky edge that made your stomach flip.

The crowd began descending, slowly leaving you alone in your place, your hood over your head, covering your face slightly. Just as you were about to look away, his eyes briefly landed on you.

Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his gaze on you. It was like he knew who you were but that was impossible. You've been secretly coming to the race every Saturday (telling your parents that you're going to the library) ever since you discovered his page and of course he doesn't know who you are.

It's out of the question.

Chan's smirk deepened, something wicked flashing in his expression. You quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with your phone, but you could still feel the heat of his gaze.

Before you made a fool of yourself, you stood up and walked towards the end of the track, pulling your hood lower to shield your face. Just as you were about to step into the shadows, a sharp, confident whistle cut through the air, freezing you in your tracks.

Your heart was pounding in your ears, you didn't turn around but felt Chan's lingering gaze pressing against your back. You turned slightly to see through your shoulders but then turned around and walked away as if you didn't hear anything at all.

“That chick’s been here for the last four weeks.” Minho commented, his voice casual as he tipped back his can of Red Bull.

Chan didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the spot where you had disappeared into the shadows. His jaw tensed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his gaze.

He could still picture the way you had glanced over your shoulder for a split second, like you’d been caught but refused to admit it.

"Oi, Chan," Felix called out, snapping him out of his thoughts. "You losing your touch, mate?"

The group erupted in laughter, their cackles echoing against the emptying track.

“Maybe she’s got better taste than you thought,” I.N added, smirking as he leaned against his own bike.

"She’ll come around." Chan said smoothly, shrugging nonchalantly, the cocky edge in his voice masking the intrigue bubbling beneath the surface.

"Will she now?" Hyunjin mocked, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

"Trust me," he said, his tone low and deliberate. "No one comes to my races four weeks in a row without a reason." A devilish smirk tipped the corner of his lips that made the guys exchange glances.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Changbin interrupted, pushing himself upright with a sharp look.

"You don't even know what I was thinking." Chan shot back, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair. "Besides, if she keeps coming back, she’s going to slip up eventually. And when she does…”

Changbin rolled his eyes at him and grabbed a Red Bull from the ice box. He knew that Chan wasn't going to listen to what he's gonna say anyway.

Chan walked towards his bike and hoped on, revving his engine as it roared to life and slipping his helmet on. He glanced at his friends, his smirk turning downright wicked.

"Then what?" Hyunjin asked, crossing his arms.

"She wanted my attention, so she got it. And I want something in return.”

With that, he sped off into the night, leaving the guys behind in a cloud of smoke and laughter.

***

"Three, two, one, let's gooo!..."

You kept scrolling through Instagram reels, nothing interesting that grabbed your attention.

But you couldn't stop thinking about Chan...

It's Saturday, four o'clock in the evening. His races start at five. You went through his Instagram and TikTok, creating a folder in your saves for his biking videos and you catch yourself rewatching his highlights again and again.

Were you guilty for stalking him online? A bit—but you couldn't stop it. His bike didn't even fascinate you anymore the way it did the first time. You just were feeling obsessed with him.

The race track was only a few blocks away from you and you couldn't help but think, could he have crossed your home? You never noticed it but now everytime you hear a speeding engine, you look out your window, hoping it's Chan.

Yeah you were pretty much obsessed.

You went back to Chan's account and scrolled down his feed, opening some of his old posts when suddenly the phone slipped out of your hand and fell on your face.

"Fuck!" You yelped, rubbing your forehead, eyes widening as you glanced at the screen in horror.

Oh fuck—

You accidentally liked a picture of him from two years ago.

The red heart stared back at you, mocking your clumsiness, your heart sank as panic took over.

“Oh, no, no, no…” you whispered, scrambling to unlike it. You tapped the heart again, watching it disappear, but the damage was already done. Your phone trembled in your hands as you stared at the post, your reflection visible in the darkened screen.

It was a picture of him leaning casually against his bike, wearing a tank top with his buff arms crossed, a majestically inked dragon flexing on his bicep.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, clutching your forehead. Does he get notifications for old likes? Does Instagram even do that?

You sat up, your mind racing just as fast as his bike. He had half a million followers, so maybe he wouldn’t notice, right? But what if he did? What if he checked? What if he remembered your face from the track and connected the dots?

"Calm down," you whispered, trying to reason with yourself. "He probably won’t even notice."

But deep down, a small voice in the back of your mind said otherwise.

Because if there was one thing you’d learned about Chan from watching him race, it was that he noticed everything.

~

"She'll be here today." Chan said, tossing the Red Bull can in the trash and turning towards his friends.

Seungmin tilted his head, looking up from his phone, arching a skeptical brow. "Oh, so now you're a psychic?"

Chan rolled his eyes, leaning casually against his bike. “No. She's been coming every Saturday, there's no way she'll not come today."

“You’ve been stalking your stalker?” Felix chimed in, his deep voice carrying a note of amusement as he slipped his hands in the pocket of his pants.

Chan smirked, unbothered by the jab. “I don’t need to stalk. She makes herself obvious. Hood up, always at the same damn spot. Like clockwork.”

“Maybe she’s just here for the bikes,” Seungmin said with a shrug, going back to scrolling on his phone. Chan shook his head, his smirk widening.

Chan shook his head, his smirk widening. “Nah, it’s not the bikes anymore. Her eyes practically screamed busted when I whistled at her.”

“That’s because you’re fucking annoying.” Jisung piped up, sipping from his own can of soda. “If someone whistled at me in public, I’d leave too.”

The group laughed, but Chan’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the track like he was already envisioning you standing there.

"Race instead of me." Chan effortlessly tossed his keys at Changbin.

"What?" Changbin caught the keys with a sharp reflex, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"If she's really into the bikes, she wouldn't care if the rider is different. But if that's not the case..." His smirk grew wider.

"Then she'll know it's not me the second you hit the track." Chan finished, rolling his helmet between his hands. "She’s been watching me, not the bike. Let’s see if she’s as observant as I think."

Changbin raised an eyebrow, twirling the keys in his hand. “So, you’re basically using me as bait?”

“Not bait,” Chan corrected, handing Changbin his helmet and clapping him on the shoulder. “More like... a decoy. Just ride, keep it clean, and make it convincing. Wear my helmet, keep your head down, and let me handle the rest.”

“This is either genius or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” Felix said, shaking his head.

“Shut up and watch,” Chan said, his tone light but confident. He turned back to Changbin. “You good?”

Changbin sighed, slipping the helmet on. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t blame me if I win and your little stalker realizes you’re not as fast as you think.”

The group laughed again, but Chan was already focused, his gaze cutting across the other riders getting ready for the race and watching the crowd gather, waiting for his shadowed muse.

The air began getting slightly colder, riders hopping on their bikes getting ready for the race. Chan stood with the guys, his back facing the crowd and his face hidden with a hoodie, watching Changbin rev up the engine.

He gave a small thumbs to Bin who responded with his own one and held the handle, preparing to flash away.

You finally managed to slowly get in your spot blending in with the crowd, your usual hood on, hair in front to shield your face, eyes glued on the riders before you.

At this point it felt silly than anything else, sneaking around every Saturday like you were some undercover agent. But you couldn���t stop yourself. The magnetic pull Chan had on you was impossible to ignore, even if you didn’t fully understand it yourself.

Your eyes scanned the lineup of riders, automatically locking onto the sleek, black BMW S1000rr. The sound of its engine roaring to life sent a familiar thrill through you, but something felt... different tonight.

The rider atop the bike gave a sharp nod, helmet obscuring his face. You couldn’t tell, but the way he usually carried himself—effortless confidence paired with a hint of smugness—seemed oddly subdued.

Your heart sank slightly. Was he even here tonight?

You pushed the thought away, gripping the edge of your hoodie to ground yourself. Focus. It didn’t matter. You were here for the race, for the thrill, not for him.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself since the last four races.

The countdown began, the cheers of the crowd growing louder with each passing second. The sound of engines revving filled the air, and you found yourself leaning forward slightly, anticipation buzzing through your veins.

Three... Two... One—

The riders shot forward, a blur of color and speed tearing down the track. Your eyes stayed glued to the black bike, trying to shake the unease gnawing at the back of your mind.

Is it him?

You watched curiously for the first two rounds, pushing away the feeling that it's not Chan but when it was the third round and you still didn't see his dramatic drift at the curved corners of the track, you were sure that it really wasn't Chan racing.

You leaned backwards exhaling and pulling out your phone, your interest in the race quietly dying down.

"I caught you princess..." A smug grin spread across Chan's face who had been secretly watching you but the race.

Hyunjin, who had also been watching you with Chan, waiting for him to be wrong, sighed dramatically, pulling a crumpled fifty out of his pocket and slapping it into Minho’s palm.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, shooting Chan a side glance. "She really is here for you man."

Chan chuckled, low and confident. “Told you,” he said, brushing past them as he made his way toward you.

You were distracted with the reels playing on your phone to notice until he sat next you, your eyes fell on that unmistakable silver bracelet you recognised instantly.

Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Enjoying the race?” a low, teasing voice asked, so close you could feel the faint vibration of it in your chest. You stiffened, your head snapping up.

And there he was. Bang Chan.

Sitting casually next to you, leaning back like he owned not just the seat, but the entire universe. His hoodie was slightly pushed back, giving you a perfect view of his sharp jawline and those maddening dimples that tugged at his smirk.

For the first time, you noticed how sharp his features were up close—perfectly sculpted, how his lashes framed those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through you.

You swallowed hard, your nerves threatening to spill over, but you kept your guard up and tried to calm your racing heart.

“You okay there, princess?” he drawled, his tone dripping with amusement. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or maybe... me?”

You quickly snapped out of it, your face heating. “I’m fine,” you said, sitting straighter and forcing your voice to sound steady. "And I think you've mistaken me, I don't really know you."

Your lie was so bland, it practically hung in the air like a neon sign screaming caught red-handed.

Chan raised an eyebrow, playfully scoffing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Is that so?” he said, his tone laced with mock sincerity. He leaned in slightly, and you caught a faint whiff of leather and something distinctly him—sharp, clean, and deathly intoxicating.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice firm despite the heat rising in your cheeks. “I don’t really follow bikers.”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin theatrically, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Funny, because someone who doesn’t follow bikers somehow managed to stumble across my page. And, oh, what’s this?” 

He mimicked scrolling on an invisible phone, his grin wicked. “Liked a post from two years ago? Now, that’s dedication for someone who doesn’t know me.”

Your stomach did a somersault, and for a moment, you were certain your face betrayed you. But you quickly composed yourself, leaning back slightly and crossing your arms. “That was an accident,” you said coolly, trying to ignore the way your pulse thundered in your ears.

Chan tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “So you accidentally clicked on my profile, accidentally scrolled back two years, and accidentally double-tapped? Seems like a lot of accidents for one person.”

You huffed, glaring at him. “Are you always this full of yourself?”

“Only when I’m right.” He shot back smoothly, his dimpled grin so close now, you could count the faint freckles dotting his cheekbones. 

You could do nothing to calm your racing heart as Chan adjusted his seat and leaned back, watching whoever was racing in his place. He didn't say a word after that, just stayed silent and concentrated on the track.

You kept glancing at him with the corner of your eyes without fully turning, focusing on the race as well, but you could have sworn that he could hear your pounding beats in your chest over the screeching tires.

Of course whoever was riding in on behalf of Chan won tonight's race in an equally dramatic drift, you caught Chan smirking and nodding proudly. You were unsure what to do and stood in your place while the crowd began standing up, then when you were about to leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist.

"Where are you off to now?" His dark eyes glinted under the dim lights, mischief oozing from every inch of his expression.

“You’ve been sneaking in to watch the race for weeks, and now that you’ve got what you wanted, you’re just gonna leave? That’s kinda rude, don’t you think?” 

You bit your lip, debating your next words. His confidence was infuriating, but it was also… dangerously attractive. Finally, you sighed, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “Maybe I did. So what?”

Chan blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your honesty, before breaking into a wide grin. “Well, that’s a first. Didn’t think you’d actually own up to it.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” you shot back, your tone laced with feigned impatience, though your pulse still raced from his lingering touch.

Chan tilted his head, eyeing you thoughtfully, then exhaled a sharp breath. “Don’t you think it’s time you saw what it’s like on the track?”

You blinked at him, your breath hitching. “What are you talking about?”

He straightened up, fixing his hoodie. “I’m offering you a ride, princess. Around the track. Are you up for it, or not?”

The sass in his tone lit a fire in you. You loved bike rides, the rush of speed, the wind in your hair—but doing it with him? That felt like stepping into dangerous territory. Still, your pride wouldn’t let you back down.

You crossed your arms, feigning indifference. “Fine. Let’s see if your riding skills are as good as your ego.”

Chan chuckled, the sound deep and low, and it sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Careful what you wish for, princess,” he said, stepping closer. “You might not be able to handle it.”

You scoffed, though your heart was pounding. “We’ll see about that.”

You followed Chan as he descended the stairs and made his way towards his friends, all of them surrounded with their own bikes, cans of Red Bull, wearing leather jackets.

“Yo, I.N!” Chan called out as you approached, his voice carrying over the noise of the dispersing crowd. He looked up from his phone, his expression curious.

“What’s up?” I.N asked, his brows lifting when he saw you trailing behind Chan.

Chan jerked his chin toward I.N’s helmet, which was resting on the bike parked beside him. “Hand that over. Our guest needs it.”

I.N blinked, clearly surprised. “Wait, she’s riding with you?”

“Finally got yourself a passenger?” Minho, who was leaning casually against his own bike, snorted.

“Just a little gratitude to her for being so kind and showing up to my races every week.” Chan replied smoothly, throwing you a sidelong glance.

Your cheeks flushed crimson but you didn't say anything. You couldn't because you felt like your throat was shut tight.

The group erupted into low chuckles, Minho gave Chan a knowing look, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

“Don’t mess up my helmet,” I.N said, handing it over. “It's my favourite one.” 

You hesitated for a moment, then took it, your fingers brushing against his. “Don't worry, I won't.” You said softly. 

The group watched you curiously as if they were waiting for you to make a mistake but Chan’s gaze was the only one you cared about. He stepped closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear.

“Nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk.

You lifted your chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Not even a little.”

His smirk deepened. “Good. Don't hold back and enjoy the ride.”

Changbin threw the keys at Chan and handed him the helmet, moving aside revealing the sleek black BMW, shining under the bright full moon light.

Chan got on the bike and you climbed up behind him. The tension crackled between you like static, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to throttle him—or hold on tighter.

The engine roared to life, the deep, guttural sound vibrating through your body. Your grip on the seat tightened as Chan revved the engine, his dimpled smirk still firmly in place as he glanced back over his shoulder at you.

With a swift twist of his wrist, the bike shot forward, the sudden burst of speed forcing a gasp from your lips. Instinctively, your hands flew to his waist, gripping tightly as the world blurred around you.

The track stretched out like a silver ribbon under the moonlight, the cool night air whipping past your face, your hair dancing in the wind like a wild, untamed spirit. Chan maneuvered the bike with practiced ease, leaning into sharp turns and accelerating down straightaways.

The bike slowed slightly as he leaned into another turn, and you took the chance to glance at him. The confidence in his posture, the way his shoulders moved with the bike—it was magnetic.

“Enjoying the view?” he teased, his voice cutting through the wind.

You scowled, your cheeks heating. “Focus on the road, Chan.”

“I always do,” he replied smoothly. “But you’re making it a little hard, princess.”

Your grip on his waist tightened involuntarily, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something you might regret. The speed continued until Chan slowed down, pulling to a stop at the other side of the track, the starting point looking like the size of an ant.

The sudden stillness was deafening compared to the roar of the engine moments ago. The cool night air clung to your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating between you and Chan.

He shifted slightly, his body still straddling the bike as he turned his head toward you, his dark eyes glinting under the pale glow of the moon. “Tight grip you’ve got there, princess,” he said, his voice low and teasing. 

“Didn’t think you’d want to hold on that bad.”

***

“Ah-Chan—” your moans poured out of your lips like an erotic symphony, blood rushing down like a flood bursting out of a dam as you felt his length inside of you, breasts bouncing up and down. 

Oh you were holding on that bad. 

“Ride my cock, baby. Good girl.” Chan hissed, your pussy clenching him so nicely it drove him wild. 

What started off him not knowing your existence to getting to know eachother to now him fucking the senses out of you escalated fast. 

You can't lie, you did have fantasies about him during the nights when you scrolled through his socials. Imagining how he would be in bed. Those dirty nights when you moaned his name, imagining his cock replacing your vibrator. 

Would he be gentle? A complete opposite to the menace he was on the road?

Boy you were wrong. He was anything but gentle.

He was rough. Hard. Strong. And you enjoyed that very much. 

Chan's hand fisted your hair as he pulled you towards him, his lips crashing yours drinking the taste of you. Your fingers clung onto his shoulder, nails grooving scars on his smooth skin, rocking your hips for more friction. 

His cock filled you completely, stretching you in ways that made your vision blur. Every upward snap of his hips drove you closer to the edge, the friction against your walls making your toes curl.

“Chan—” you whimpered, breaking the kiss to gasp for air, your head falling back as his pace quickened.

He didn’t let up. If anything, the sight of you unraveling only spurred him on. His mouth trailed down your throat, teeth grazing your skin before he latched onto the sensitive spot just above your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

His lips latched on your erect nipple, sucking and licking on it, the obscene sounds of him groaning feeling like music to your ears.

Wetness gushed down your thighs and onto his, a sinful symphony of wet, desperate noises that only fueled the fire between you.

“So fucking perfect for me.” he praised, his lips brushing against your ear as he pinched and played with your slick nipple that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. 

You felt so dirty and depraved, shamelessly riding his cock, his praises turning you on even more.

“Should I punish this pussy for stalking me baby? Hmm?” His hand slipped between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit, triggering an orgasm to break free just from his words.

He already “punished” you for stalking him by bending you over and fucking you to oblivion on his bike a week ago but he is so cocky and mean, he loved using that every chance he got.

“Or should I fuck you from behind and wreck you till you make a sweet mess all over my cock?” 

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your release slammed through you, your body convulsing and your walls clenched around him, drawing a deep, guttural moan from his lips. 

You couldn't even process the aftershocks of your climax and before you knew it, you were on all fours, Chan's eyes glued on your glistening slick pussy, the angry tip of his cock grazing and teasing your swollen folds. 

“Chan— mngh,” you pushed back against him, whining with need, feeling the anticipation rebuild as you kept feeling the tip nudge against your entrance.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice a dark purr that sent a shiver down your spine. “Barely gave you time to breathe, and here you are, already begging for me to ruin you again.”

Your fingers clenched the sheets, your body trembling from the mix of frustration and desire. “Please, Chan,” you breathed, voice muffled and desperate.

“Please, what?” he sneered, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his silver chain and bracelet on his wrist touching your skin, cold. 

His breath was hot against your ear, and his hand slid up your body to grip your throat. “You want me to fuck you? Say it.” 

Your cheeks burned, but the heat between your legs overshadowed any embarrassment. “I need you to fuck me, Chan,” you whispered, then louder, “Ruin me. Wreck me.”

He groaned at your words, his hand tightening slightly around your throat. “Good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”

Without another word, he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, knocking the air from your lungs. Your hands flew forward to steady yourself, a gasp tearing from your throat as he set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours with a force that had the bed creaking beneath.

“Look at you,” he continued, his tone dripping with arrogance. “So fucking cock-drunk, you can’t even think straight.” 

You tried to speak, but he cut you off with a sharp thrust that made you cry out. His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he pounded into you mercilessly. 

Every stroke hitting deeper, harder, until you were a squirming mess beneath him. His balls slapped against your clit, an almost tight hand around your throat had your vision going white.

His teeth sank into your soft skin, leaving a ruthless mark on your shoulder and his hand met with a sharp slap! on your ass. The pleasure of it overlapped the pain, relentless drilling on your sloppy cunt that made you grab the headboard.

“FUCK! I can't—” Your cries echoed off the walls of your bedroom, loud and feral.

“You can’t what?” Chan snarled, his voice laced with mockery as he dragged his cock out almost completely before slamming back in, hitting that spot and your skin meeting with another sharp slap! 

His teeth grazed your earlobe as his hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place. “Can’t take me? Too much for this tight little cunt?”

“Y-yes—no—I don’t know!” you sobbed, your fingers clawing at the headboard as your body quivered beneath him.

His hand slid up on your throat, pulling you upright so your back was flush against his chest. The new angle made you scream, his cock hitting even deeper, harder, the relentless pace leaving you on the verge of tears.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice gravelly and thick with lust. “Scream for me, baby. Let the whole world know who’s making you feel this good.”

The way his cock kept hitting the right spots made you climb higher and higher, the knot tightening, only seconds away from snapping, your whimpers and moans poured out endlessly.

“I'm gonna come— I'm—”

You couldn't even finish your sentence as the second orgasm left you shaking, trembling and reeling beneath him. Your walls clamped down on his cock, pulling him deeper until he spilled his seed in you.

“Fuck.” Chan groaned, his grip on your throat loosening as he chased his own release. His hips stuttered, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips, cock twitching as he pumped you full.

Breaths ragged and heavy, the room was mixed in scents of mint and sex. Chan collapsed forward, but braced himself to avoid crushing you beneath his weight.

“You did so good, baby,” He murmured, his voice low and thick, trying to catch his breath while he nipped your sensitive skin.

Both of you were drenched in sweat, the mingling of your bodies making the heat in the room unbearable, yet neither of you moved.

His cock softened inside you, but he didn’t pull out. Instead, he just leaned forward kissing the nape of your neck and shifted slightly, you winced at the feeling of him still inside you, oversensitivity making your nerves spark.

Slowly your bodies untangled and he fell on his back next to you, the both of you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of what just happened settling in. 

You gently turned your head to see Chan, who was lost in his own thoughts. He felt you watching him and he turned too, a soft smile tipping the corner of his lips, his fingers brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

His eyes trailed down your body, skin peppered with his bite marks and hickeys, something unusually painful stung in his chest even though he had never felt that before.

You moved closer to him, pecking a sweet kiss on his nose that made him knit his brows smiling.

“I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me if you think you did.” You said reassuringly.

Chan let out a soft breath, his smile faltering for a moment as he studied your face. His fingers ghosted over a particularly dark bruise on your collarbone, his touch featherlight.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, his teasing edge nowhere to be found. 

You rolled your eyes, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.” He huffed out a laugh, the sound vibrating against your cheek and kissed your forehead.

Chan got up from the bed and carried you in his arms towards the shower, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a content sigh as your head rested against his chest.

Under the spraying water, the steam curled around the two of you, but his touch was what kept you warm. 

He grabbed a washcloth and the soap, lathering it before starting at your shoulders. His touch was slow and deliberate, careful not to press too hard as he cleaned every inch of your skin. 

When he reached your bruised hips, his lips ghosted over one of the marks that made your heart flutter. 

Once he was satisfied, he handed you the cloth, smirking faintly. “Your turn, princess.”

You laughed softly, taking it from him and mimicking his careful actions. You then saw the scratch marks and crescent scars you had left on his skin, etched like tiny badges.

Your fingers ghosted over them as you cleaned him, a pang of guilt flashing through your chest.

“Sorry about these,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Chan chuckled, his smirk softening into something warmer. “Don’t be. I like them."

Heat rose up your cheeks and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

When you reached his bicep, you couldn’t resist tracing the outline of his tattoo, your fingers brushing over the ink that decorated his skin.

“You really are full of surprises,” you said, your voice soft.

His brow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “The rough biker with the soft side. Didn’t think I’d ever see it.”

He smirked, pulling you closer under the spray of water. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him anyway, letting the water cascade over both of you. Pearl-like drops of water slid down your bodies, your back pressed against the cold titles as Chan's mouth claimed yours. 

After the shower Chan changed into his clothes and you slipped into comfy sweats, he grabbed his keys and helmet from the living room, walking toward the door with a cool, confident stride.

“My race is on Saturday,” He said, slipping on his helmet. “I hope you'll be there, princess.” 

A chuckle escaped from your lips, your mind going back to how you went watch his races every Saturday without him knowing who you were. 

“I guess I’ll see you there, then.”

Chan nodded, opening the front door and stepping out, you watched him climb on his bike, revving the engine back to life. With a twist on the handle, he zoomed out into the night, flashing away into the stretching darkness leaving a trail of himself behind.

You couldn’t help but think that stumbling across that video online of a certain biker had definitely been the best misstep of your life.

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Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[levanterhaze]

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader dirty talk, unprotected sex, smut in general and a little angst.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[9.1k words ]♡― guys, we're on the penultimate chapter of gameboy, and it's been such an unbelievable experience. thank you so much for sharing your reactions to each chapter with me, it really means a lot. this chapter was so fun to write, maybe it won't be as much fun for those who will read it, but... it's the feeling that counts, right? PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three] ♡ [part four] ♡ [part five] ♡ [part six]

But if I'm all dressed up They might as well be looking at us And if they call me a slut You know it might be worth it for once And if I'm gonna be drunk Might as well be drunk in love

The silence stretched painfully, the weight of everyone's unspoken thoughts pressing down on you. It wasn’t just anyone standing at the door with a suitcase in hand—it was Mingyu. And he was here because Eunji had invited him.

You forced yourself to move, blinking away your initial shock and forcing a polite smile onto your face. “Hey, you’re here!” you said, reaching for his bag.

Mingyu grinned, his usual confidence radiating from him. “Eunji said it was supposed to be a surprise. Thought it’d be fun.”

Fun. Right.

You swallowed the urge to glance back at Bangchan—because you could feel his stare. Even without looking, you knew he was watching, arms crossed, probably chewing on the inside of his cheek the way he did when he was trying not to react.

And then, as if the moment wasn’t already unbearable, Mingyu leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You stiffened, feeling every single pair of eyes in the room on you. Heat rushed to your face, and this time, you did glance toward Bangchan.

He was still standing near the stairs, but something had changed. His jaw was locked tight, his arms tense, his fingers curling slightly like he was resisting the urge to do something—say something. But he didn’t. He just watched, his expression unreadable.

You huffed out a laugh, forcing a scowl as you lightly shoved Mingyu away. “Okay, okay, chill. Let’s get your stuff inside before Changbin kicks you out.”

You turned on your heel, leading Mingyu upstairs before anything else could happen, before Bangchan’s stare could burn a hole through your back.

Inside the bedroom, you dropped Mingyu’s suitcase near the bed, letting out a slow, measured breath. When you turned around, you found him watching you, arms folded.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “You don’t seem… I don’t know. Did you not like the surprise?”

You hesitated. “It’s not that.” You rubbed the back of your neck, suddenly feeling exhausted. “It’s just… this is Changbin’s house, and I didn’t know if this was the right time, you know?”

Mingyu studied you for a beat before nodding. “Yeah, I get it.”

You weren’t sure if he actually got it, but at least he wasn’t pushing.

Later, when you finally got a moment alone with Eunji, you wasted no time.

“What the hell were you thinking, Eunji?” you hissed, arms crossed as you cornered her in the hallway.

Eunji blinked at you like you’d lost your mind. “Excuse me?”

“You invited Mingyu on a trip with all of our friends? To Changbin’s house? You know they don’t get along!”

Eunji’s frown deepened. “I was trying to help,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know things have been weird between you two, and I thought maybe if you spent more time together, you’d figure things out.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You thought?”

She crossed her arms, mirroring your stance. “Look, you are seeing him, aren’t you?”

Your stomach twisted. The words caught in your throat, tangled in something unspoken, something messy.

Eunji’s expression hardened. “Right. That’s what I thought.” She let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t get you. I was trying to do something nice for my best friend, but apparently, that’s a crime.”

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to rein in your emotions. “Eunji, I just… I wish you had talked to me first.”

She shrugged, clearly still annoyed, but at least the conversation was over. For now.

A while later, when everyone headed to the beach, you had just stepped onto the warm sand when you felt a hand wrap around yours.

Mingyu.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to see the easy smile on his face as he pulled you along, guiding you toward the others.

And then, instinctively, you glanced back.

Bangchan stood a few steps behind, watching. The sun cast long shadows across his face, his expression carefully neutral—but you knew him too well. The tightness in his shoulders, the stillness of his stance—it wasn’t neutrality. It was restraint.

For a brief second, you wanted to stop, wanted to go back. But then Mingyu’s grip tightened slightly, his warmth grounding you in place.

And so, with no real choice, you let yourself be led forward, even as Bangchan’s stare burned into your back.

The afternoon at the beach was nothing short of perfect—or at least, it should have been. The sun was warm but not unbearable, a light breeze carried the scent of salt through the air, and laughter echoed from all sides. Everyone was either sprawled on the sand or engaged in whatever activity caught their interest.

At some point, you and the girls had set up a makeshift picnic, putting together sandwiches and slicing up fresh fruit. It was simple but refreshing, and for a little while, you let yourself enjoy it—until he caught your eye.

Bangchan.

Wearing his cap backward, his hair slightly damp with sweat, and a fitted t-shirt that clung to his torso like it had been sewn onto his skin. It was criminal. Your imagination was already running wild, and the last thing you needed was a reminder of just how good he looked.

But, of course, he wasn’t just going to exist in your peripheral vision. He was right there, playing soccer with the guys, muscles flexing with every movement. Every now and then, his gaze would flicker toward you, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips whenever he caught you looking. And God, you hated how much you liked it.

So, in an effort to not combust on the spot, you focused on volleyball instead. You, Mingyu, and the girls played a few rounds, the game getting more competitive as time passed. The moment your team scored, a triumphant laugh left your lips—only to be cut off when Mingyu grabbed you and spun you around in celebration.

Your heart jumped. “Mingyu, put me down!” you laughed, holding onto his shoulders, afraid he’d actually drop you.

He only grinned. “Not a chance. Gotta celebrate properly!”

You could feel eyes on you—his eyes. A quick glance told you everything. Bangchan was not entertained. His expression was impassive, but you knew better. His jaw was tight, his grip on his water bottle firm. He was seething, and that realization sent a strange mix of emotions through you.

After eating, the group made their way to the water. The cold waves were a sharp contrast to the heat of the day, but the shock quickly turned into fun. You and Felix splashed each other relentlessly, your laughter filling the air. Minho had Sohee on his shoulders while Bangchan had Eunji on his, the two girls playing an intense round of chicken fight, their screams and giggles echoing across the shore.

Jisung eventually joined you and Felix, challenging you both to see who could dive under the waves the longest. It was the perfect distraction—until you drifted just a little too far from the others.

For a moment, you simply stood there, water up to your waist, watching your friends. They were all having fun, caught up in the easy joy of the moment. And yet, all you could think about was the growing weight in your chest.

What was this mess you’d gotten yourself into?

A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. “You okay?”

You turned your head to find Hyunjin beside you, his expression calm but observant. He always had a way of reading you too well.

You opened your mouth to answer, but no words came. Because, truthfully? You didn’t know if you were okay.

This trip was supposed to be fun, carefree. Instead, it felt suffocating. The tension between you and Bangchan, Mingyu’s presence, Eunji’s meddling—it was all too much.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above the waves crashing around you.

Hyunjin nodded, his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah… I figured.”

He didn’t push for more. He just stood there, his presence a quiet comfort as the waves rolled in and out.

You sighed, rubbing your arms against the chill of the water. “This was supposed to be a fun trip,” you muttered, watching the others laughing and playing without a care in the world.

“It can still be fun.” Hyunjin tilted his head, studying you. “Unless you’re planning on spending the rest of the weekend overthinking yourself into an early grave.”

You shot him a look. “You’re so wise. Really, I don’t know what I’d do without your groundbreaking advice.”

He grinned. “I am a genius. But seriously,” his voice dropped a little, more sincere, “if it’s about Mingyu… or Bangchan…”

Your breath hitched. You didn’t want to hear his name out loud. Not when you could still feel the weight of his stare from earlier, burning through your skin as Mingyu spun you around like some rom-com lead.

Hyunjin saw the flicker of hesitation on your face. “Ah.” He dragged out the syllable knowingly. “It is about Bangchan.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, splashing water at him.

He laughed, dodging it easily. “No, but seriously. You’ve been sneaking glances at each other all day like you’re in some k-drama, and I—”

“Hyunjin,” you warned.

“I’m just saying—”

Before he could finish, a wave crashed against you, nearly knocking you forward. You reached for something—anything—to steady yourself, but all you grabbed was air.

A firm hand caught your wrist before you could stumble further. But it wasn’t Hyunjin’s.

It was Bangchan’s.

You blinked, water dripping down your face as you looked up at him. His expression was unreadable, but his grip was steady, firm. His touch sent a rush of warmth through your arm despite the cold water.

“You okay?” His voice was low, like it wasn’t meant for anyone else to hear.

You swallowed. Nodded. “Yeah. Just lost my balance.”

His gaze flickered over you, like he wasn’t convinced. Like he knew it wasn’t just the wave that had thrown you off.

But before either of you could say another word, another hand wrapped around your other wrist.

Mingyu.

“Hey, you alright?” He pulled you toward him, the contrast between his casual concern and Bangchan’s quiet intensity almost jarring.

You felt Bangchan’s grip tighten for just a second before he let go, his fingers lingering just long enough for you to notice before he turned and waded back into the water without another word.

You exhaled slowly, turning to Mingyu, who was watching you expectantly. You forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just clumsy, as always.”

He chuckled, brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. “Come on, let’s head back before you get actually swallowed by the ocean.”

You followed him, but not before glancing over your shoulder.

Bangchan was further out in the water now, the setting sun casting an orange glow over his back. He wasn’t looking at you anymore. But something in his posture, in the way his shoulders were tense and his fists curled at his sides, told you everything you needed to know.

This weekend was only going to get more complicated.

The sun had started its slow descent, dipping into the horizon and setting the sky on fire with shades of orange, pink, and gold. Most of the group had already started heading back to the house, tired from the hours spent in the water and under the sun. Laughter and chatter faded as they disappeared over the dunes, leaving behind only the sound of the waves and the distant calls of seagulls.

Changbin, still lingering on the sand, stretched his arms over his head with a lazy grin before nudging Bangchan with his shoulder. “You know, everyone's going back inside. Everyone.” He emphasized, giving a not-so-subtle glance in your direction.

Bangchan shot him a dry look. “And?”

“And,” Changbin clapped him on the back, voice dropping to a low murmur, “I’m giving you an opening. Don’t be dumb about it.”

Bangchan hesitated, but before he could reply, Changbin was already walking away, throwing a careless, “Take your time,” over his shoulder.

You were still standing near the water, toes buried in the damp sand, watching the sun slip lower. You knew Bangchan was behind you, and could feel his presence even before he stepped closer.

“You’re not going inside?” His voice was softer now, almost cautious.

You turned your head slightly, offering him a small, teasing smirk. “Didn’t know I needed permission.”

He huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head before stepping beside you. For a moment, you both just stood there, side by side, watching the waves roll in and out.

Then he shifted. “Walk with me?”

You glanced at him, eyebrows slightly raised, but nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

The sand was cool under your feet as you walked along the shore. The silence between you wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt charged, full of words that hadn’t yet been spoken. The sky darkened little by little, the air cooling, but Bangchan’s presence beside you was warm, grounding.

Eventually, he spoke. “I didn’t like it.”

You blinked, looking at him. “Didn’t like what?”

His jaw tensed, and he kept his gaze ahead. “Watching you with him today.”

Your stomach flipped. You knew exactly who he meant.

“You’re not watching me with anyone,” you murmured, stopping. The waves curled around your ankles before retreating again.

The night air was warm, the kind that clung to your skin, mixing with the salty breeze from the ocean. You and Bangchan walked along the shore, side by side, feet sinking into the cool sand with each step. The only sounds were the waves rolling in and the distant laughter of your friends back at the house.

For once, it was peaceful. No stolen glances, no tension hanging between you like a thread about to snap. Just the two of you, alone in the dark, under a sky scattered with stars.

You took a breath, the weight of something unspoken pressing against your ribs. "I’m sorry about the whole Eunji thing," you admitted, breaking the quiet. "I didn’t know she was gonna invite Mingyu. I swear, I would’ve stopped it if I did.”

Bangchan glanced at you, his expression unreadable. You didn’t know what you expected—maybe a sarcastic remark, maybe nothing at all. Instead, he just kept looking at you, his steps slowing slightly.

“I didn’t want to ruin things,” you added, kicking at a loose shell in the sand. “I mean, this trip was supposed to be fun. And now it’s just... complicated.”

Bangchan huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Complicated’s an understatement.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah. But I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

That’s when it hit him.

It wasn’t just about the secrecy, or the tension, or the mess they’d both gotten into. You cared. About what he felt, about how this whole situation affected him. You weren’t just thinking about yourself—you were thinking about him.

And that was dangerous. Because if he hadn’t already known he was in deep, he did now.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just stared at you—at the way your brows pulled together, the way your arms crossed like you were trying to shield yourself from something bigger than just this conversation.

It was stupid, really. He wasn’t supposed to fall for you.

But looking at you now, Bangchan realized he already had.

And then, as if something in him snapped, he reached for you.

His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulled you against him in one fluid motion. His lips crashed against yours—urgent, desperate, real. You gasped against his mouth, your hands flying to his shoulders, his neck, needing something to hold onto as heat rushed through your body.

It was all-consuming—the way he kissed you, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into it. His fingers trailed down your spine, igniting every nerve, pulling you in closer, deeper. The cool air, the sound of the ocean, the distant voices from the house—it all melted away until there was only him.

Bangchan exhaled deeply, shifting slightly so he could look at you. His fingers brushed against your cheek, trailing down your jaw, his touch soft, reverent.

Then he let out a low, frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I’m screwed anyway.”

You blinked, tilting your head to look at him. “What?”

He turned to you then, eyes dark, serious, and maybe just a little resigned—like a man walking straight into a wildfire with no intention of turning back.

“I like you,” he admitted, voice rough, like the words were dragged straight from his chest. “Like, really like you. And I know it’s a bad idea, I know this is gonna be a mess, but I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Your breath caught, fingers stilling against his skin.

Bangchan scoffed lightly, shaking his head as if at himself. “You’re probably gonna wreck me.”

Something warm bloomed in your chest, something terrifying and thrilling all at once. You swallowed, your own voice quieter when you spoke.

“Maybe,” you murmured, a teasing lilt in your tone despite the way your heart pounded. “But you’re saying you’re okay with that?”

He exhaled, slow and deep, like he was making peace with it right in front of you. Then, finally, he looked at you again—really looked at you.

“Yeah,” he said, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. “I think I am.”

And just like that, his lips found yours again—slow and deep, like he’d already made his choice.

A loud noise from the house made you both jolt apart. You turned, frowning.

“What the hell was that?”

Bangchan barely spared a glance. “Dunno. Sounds like they’re having fun.” Then, with that infuriating smirk, he added, “We could do the same.”

Before you could roll your eyes, he grabbed your hand and led you toward a more secluded part of the beach, where the rocks and thick vegetation made sure no one could see. Oh, you knew that smile—knew exactly what was running through his head.

“Hate to break it to you, but hooking up on a beach isn’t exactly on my bucket list.” You shot him a look as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it onto the dry sand like he was making himself at home.

“It’s on mine.” His voice was all gravel and heat. “And I need you. So much.”

Your breath hitched as he pressed close, caging you between his body and the rough stone. The cool touch of it sent shivers up your spine, but the heat radiating off him? That was an entirely different kind of problem.

“Chan, I don’t know if we should—” The words barely left your lips before he dipped down, mouth hovering just over yours, teasing, tasting the space between you. His lips ghosted along your jaw, slow and deliberate.

“Bangchan…” It came out softer than you intended, almost like a prayer.

He groaned, his hands tightening on your waist, the frustration evident in the way his fingers flexed against your skin. You could feel the tension coiling between you, thick and electric, like a live wire about to snap.

“Fuck, you drive me insane.” His voice was ragged, half a confession, half a plea.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself against his shoulder because—let’s be real—your legs had officially decided they were useless. It was ridiculous how he could reduce you to this—how his touch alone could make you feel weightless and wired all at once.

Two nocturnal creatures, drawn together by something dark and undeniable.

And neither of you seemed willing to stop.

Bangchan let out a low, frustrated grunt, his hands gripping your waist like he was barely holding himself back. The tension between you was thick, electric, making it impossible to think about anything other than how good he felt pressed against you.

“No one will hear,” he murmured, lips brushing yours, voice dark with promise. “I’ll make you feel so fucking good. Then we’ll go back, and everyone will look at you, clueless—having no idea I just ruined you.”

A shiver ran down your spine as his teeth grazed your earlobe, each word sinking deep into your skin, into your bloodstream, until you felt drunk off of him.

Jesus Christ. The things this man said.

You barely managed to roll your eyes before his mouth was on your neck, finding that one spot that made you weak—hot and deliberate, his tongue tracing your pulse like he had every intention of ruining you.

And you were already halfway there.

Bangchan’s hips rolled into yours, slowly, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He grunted at the contact, his grip on your waist tightening. “You like that?” His voice was thick, heavy with need. Another grind, deeper this time. “You like knowing I’m fucking you where no one can see?”

You bit down on your lip, barely holding back a whimper. He was barely touching you, yet the heat in your stomach was already unbearable, like standing too close to an open flame. He always did this—knew exactly how to pull you apart with nothing but his voice, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were something he was starving for.

“I want you,” you breathed, fingers threading into his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

His head dipped, lips grazing your jaw before trailing down your neck, hot and teasing. “Yeah?” His fingers traced the curve of your mouth, his thumb pressing lightly against your bottom lip. “Want me?”

You nodded quickly, too caught up in the sensation to find your voice.

But that wasn’t enough for him. “Say it, baby” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, not quite kissing you yet.

“I want you so much,” you whispered, and it came out so desperate, so wrecked, you almost hated yourself for it.

Almost. Because Bangchan cursed under his breath, and then—he snapped.

His hands skimmed up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your skirt higher, fingers deft as he tugged at the edge of your bikini. The flimsy material barely resisted before giving way, and the cool night air sent a shiver down your spine. He worked fast, precise, stealing the breath from your lungs with the sheer confidence in his movements.

Before you could process it, you were against him, legs wrapped around his waist, hands gripping his shoulders as he thrust inside you.

The world dimmed. The rhythmic crash of waves, the distant hum of cicadas, even the muffled sounds of your friends back at the house—all of it faded into nothing. There was only him.

Forehead pressed against yours, Bangchan exhaled, a slow, uneven breath, his fingers tracing your cheek with an almost painful gentleness. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, as if committing every detail of this moment to memory.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice rough at the edges. His hand cupped your face, thumb brushing over your parted lips, and you felt the weight of his gaze like an anchor, grounding you.

The heat between you built, an unspoken urgency crackling in the space you barely left between your bodies. You clung to him, every inhale shaky, every exhale stolen by the way he moved—calculated, controlled, like he wanted to untwist you piece by piece.

Your fingers curled into his hair, a desperate attempt to tether yourself, but it was useless. You were already lost in him.

“Hold on tight, love,” he whispered, his lips grazing yours in a kiss that swallowed the sound of your own gasps.

And when he kissed you again—deep, consuming, like he was learning the taste of your name—you knew there was no coming back from this.

You were completely lost in the rhythm—offbeat, breathless, but it didn’t matter. The chaos of it was intoxicating, each movement sending fire through your veins, a spark that ignited from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair. Heat clung to your skin, beads of sweat tracing paths down your temples, mingling with the dampness on Bangchan’s back. You tightened your arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close, giving him access to that one spot that broke you completely.

A sound—half moan, half plea—slipped from your lips, and Bangchan groaned in response, the sound of it sinking into your bones. Your body tensed, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, and then—release. It crashed over you in waves, pulling him under with you, his body shuddering against yours as he buried himself in the moment.

His breath was ragged, chest rising and falling in time with yours as he leaned back against the rocks, keeping you wrapped in his arms like he had no plans of letting go.

You felt it before you saw it—the slow, satisfied smile against your shoulder, followed by the softest press of his lips against your skin.

“You good?” Bangchan murmured, his hands cradling your face, pushing damp strands of hair out of your eyes.

You nodded, still breathless, brain short-circuiting.

He huffed a soft laugh, thumb brushing over your cheek. “Guess this could’ve been a little more romantic, huh? Not exactly candlelight and rose petals.”

You smirked, fingers trailing along his jaw. “Shut up. It was perfect.” Then, pressing up on your toes, you kissed him—slow, sweet, like you had all the time in the world.

But just as he started to pull you in again, fat raindrops splattered against your skin.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groaned, looking up just as the sky fully opened up.

Bangchan just grinned. “Well, that’s our cue.” He grabbed your hand, tugging you along as you both bolted across the beach.

The rain hit fast and hard, soaking through your clothes in seconds. You shrieked at the icy water, laughing as you tried to keep up with him. But he never let go, his grip steady and warm, like he had no intention of ever letting go. And somehow, that made your chest ache more than anything else.

The second you stepped inside, you realized everyone was off in their own worlds—doors shut, showers running, no one paying attention. Bangchan’s palm brushed over yours in a fleeting touch before letting you go, his warmth lingering even as you climbed the stairs.

Meanwhile, Changbin strolled out from the living room, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face.

“Well, well, my favorite lovebirds—everything good?”

Bangchan barely contained a laugh, shaking his head. Changbin was impossible. And way too observant for his own good.

All he got in response was a shrug and half a smile, but it was enough. Changbin read between the lines like it was his second language.

You climbed the stairs, desperate to wash the salt off your skin. And Bangchan too.

He was still on you—his touch, his scent, the way his breath had felt against your lips. If you closed your eyes for too long, you could feel him, relive every second of it.

And damn, the thought alone sent a rush of heat up your neck. Your stomach did that stupid, embarrassing flip like you were some high school girl with a crush.

Crush.

No. Worse. In love.

The realization should’ve knocked the air out of you, but instead, your lips curled into a smile.

As you reached for the bathroom, Eunji appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, smirking like she knew everything.

“Why are you smiling at yourself like a lovesick idiot?” she teased.

You rolled your eyes, snatching your towel. “I’m just happy to be here.”

Her grin widened, eyes narrowing in suspicion, but before she could dig deeper, you ducked into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

You needed that shower. Badly.

Fresh out of the shower, you walked into the living room, towel still wrapped around your damp hair. Everyone was already sprawled out, drinks in hand, half-empty snack bags littering the floor. Sohee caught your eye and patted the empty spot next to her.

“Right on time. We’re playing.”

You slid in beside her, already skeptical. “Playing what?”

“Truth or dare.” Eunji grinned, way too pleased with herself.

Hyunjin groaned dramatically. “Ugh, I hate this game.”

Minho, without even looking up, muttered, “Actual nightmare.”

Eunji rolled her eyes. “Come on, it’s raining, there’s literally nothing else to do. Live a little.” She grabbed an empty soju bottle and placed it in the middle of the circle.

You barely paid attention to the setup because the moment you looked up, Bangchan was staring right at you, smirking like he had the upper hand in some game you weren’t even playing. Then he had the nerve to wink. And bite his lip. Like a menace.

You shot him a look, but your body betrayed you, warmth creeping up your neck.

Damn him.

The game started off harmless. Jisung dared Changbin to drink hot sauce straight from the bottle—his immediate regret was everyone’s entertainment. A couple of awkward first kiss stories got dragged into the light. Jisung lost a round and had to wear only a towel for the rest of the game. Sohee took a dare way too seriously and chugged half a bottle of soju in under five seconds. Felix stuffed so many sour candies in his mouth that his eyes practically teared up on impact.

And then, of course, Eunji.

She leaned back like she was thinking really hard about her next move, even though you could see the wheels turning in her head before she even opened her mouth.

Her gaze flicked between you and Mingyu before she dropped it like a bomb.

“I dare you to sit on Mingyu’s lap… and kiss him. Like, really kiss him.”

The second Eunji spoke, your stomach bottomed out.

The room crackled with excitement, laughter bubbling up as everyone turned to you, waiting. Anticipating. You felt their eyes, the weight of their expectation pressing down like a challenge you didn’t sign up for.

Mingyu, completely at ease, leaned back, legs spread, hands resting casually on his thighs. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t pushing—just waiting, that soft, patient smile on his face like he already knew you’d come to him. But you? Your whole body locked up, your pulse pounding in your ears.

A dare’s a dare.

The words echoed in your head, sealing your fate. You chanced a glance at Bangchan, heart thudding. He wasn’t watching the way the others were, eyes bright with amusement or curiosity. No, his expression was unreadable, his mouth pressed into a firm line, his fingers drumming lazily against his knee like he couldn’t care less.

Liar.

You swallowed hard. If he had looked at you, if he had said something, anything—maybe you wouldn’t have done it. But he didn’t. So you took a breath and slid onto Mingyu’s lap, feeling his arm come around your waist, solid and warm, grounding you when you felt like floating right out of your own body.

His hands were gentle, his touch careful, like he didn’t want to spook you. One hand came up, threading into your hair as he pulled you in, slow and deliberate. His lips met yours, soft, unhurried. Mingyu kissed like someone who knew what he was doing—confident, assured, but not pushy.

But it wasn’t Bangchan.

The cheers, the clapping, the wolf whistles—they all sounded far away, muffled under the rush of your own thoughts. You were hyper-aware of the way Mingyu held you, how he didn’t let go even after pulling back, his arm still locked around your waist like a silent claim.

You tried to find Bangchan in the crowd, but he wasn’t looking at you. He wasn’t looking at anything. He just sat there, unreadable, his posture relaxed, his jaw tight.

Then the bottle spun. And landed on him.

Mingyu wasted no time. “I dare you to kiss one of the girls.”

Your stomach twisted.

The room fell quiet, the energy shifting. All eyes turned to Bangchan, waiting for his move. He exhaled slowly through his nose, his fingers tapping against the side of his thigh before he stood, stretching out his shoulders like this was nothing.

For one wild second, you thought he would walk straight to you. That he would pull you out of Mingyu’s lap, tilt your chin up, and kiss you in front of everyone. That the whole secret would unwind in the span of a heartbeat.

But he didn’t even glance your way.

Instead, he turned— And kissed Eunji.

You didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink as she tilted her head up to meet him halfway, a little smirk playing on her lips. His hand cupped her face, fingers pressing into her skin just enough to make it look effortless, like he’d done it before.

The room erupted again, cheers and laughter filling the space, but all you could hear was the roaring in your ears.

It wasn’t supposed to sting like this. But it did.

You swallowed hard, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep from saying something reckless. Hyunjin muttered something about being exhausted, and you could’ve kissed him for it—because if this stupid game lasted another second, you were going to snap.

Before anyone could stop you, you slipped away, heading straight to your room. You needed to move, to find something, anything, to keep your hands and mind busy before you started spiraling. You sat on your bed, rifling through your bag for the damn book you bought, but before you could even process a single word on the page, the door creaked open.

"Hey."

You didn’t even have to look up. You already knew. Eunji.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her like she had every right to be there. “You okay? You look a little…” She trailed off, tilting her head.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay calm. "Just tired."

"Yeah, I bet you are."

Something about her tone made your spine go rigid.

You lifted your gaze, brows knitting together. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Eunji let out a slow, exaggerated sigh, like she was pitying you. "I just think keeping up this little game must be exhausting. You know, acting like a whore."

The words hit you like a slap. Your whole body went still. "What did you just say?"

She smirked. "Please. I saw you and Bangchan all over each other on the beach. You looked pretty into it, too. Meanwhile, Mingyu was here, clueless, waiting for you like an idiot. So yeah, that’s why I dared you. I wanted to see just how deep this little act of yours went."

Your pulse roared in your ears.

"You…" You stood up so fast your vision blurred. "Are you serious right now? That’s why you did it? Just to humiliate me?"

Eunji’s expression didn’t change. "No, I did it because you can’t have everything, sweetie. You can’t keep stringing them both along like some selfish little—"

"Say it." Your voice was sharp, your fists clenched at your sides. "Go ahead, say it."

She took a step closer, her smile widening like she wanted you to break. "You’re playing with them. And it’s disgusting."

Your breath hitched.

Eunji’s words slammed into you, cold and cutting, laced with something so cruel it made your stomach turn. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—just stood there, locked in place as the weight of it all crashed down on you.

She smiled, tilting her head like she was amused. "They'll figure you out eventually. Guys don’t like girls like you."

Like you.

Your throat burned, but before you could even find a way to respond, she turned, opening the door with a careless flick of her wrist. "See you downstairs." And then she was gone.

The room felt too small, too suffocating, like the walls were closing in. Your hands shook at your sides, useless, helpless, and your chest ached with something deep and ugly.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to rip open the door and demand to know why she had done this—why she had looked at you like you were filth beneath her shoe, why she had taken something messy and complicated and turned it into something cruel.

Instead, you stood there, your pulse hammering in your ears, your vision blurring at the edges.

Because some small, broken part of you believed her.

As if your heart and mind had a life of their own, you reached for your phone, fingers trembling as they curled around the device.

you: are you available to be my very beautiful and talented, all-knowing voice of reason? hyunjin: i’m always available for flattery. where are you? you: roof porch. bring snacks. i’m emotionally distressed.

A few minutes later, the wooden planks creaked as Hyunjin climbed up, a bag of chips in one hand and a half-empty bottle of soda in the other. “You’re lucky I’m a good friend,” he said, plopping down beside you. “Otherwise, I would’ve charged for this therapy session.”

You let out a weak laugh, knees pulled to your chest as you stared at the now-silent sky. The rain had stopped, but the air still smelled like it—fresh, damp, a little too heavy.

“So,” he prompted, nudging your shoulder. “What’s up?”

You sighed. “Eunji.”

Hyunjin opened the chips. “What happened?”

You hesitated, running a hand through your hair. Saying it out loud made it feel even worse, but if there was one person you could be honest with, it was Hyunjin.

“She saw me and Bangchan at the beach earlier,” you admitted. “And that’s why she dared me to kiss Mingyu.”

His chewing slowed. “Wait. What?”

“She said she did it because I was messing with both of them. And then—” Your voice caught for a second. “She said that this kind of behavior makes me look like a whore.”

The bag crinkled sharply as Hyunjin’s grip tightened. He turned his head so fast you thought he might get whiplash. “She said what?”

You swallowed, forcing out a laugh that sounded nothing like you. “Yeah. Fun, right?”

Hyunjin was quiet for a second, which was almost worse. Because Hyunjin wasn’t quiet unless he was really pissed.

Then he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “What the fuck is wrong with her?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, staring at the distant glow of the house. “I don’t know.”

“No, seriously.” His voice was sharper now, edged with something protective. “That’s not just a shitty thing to say. She was trying to humiliate you. And for what?”

You shrugged, but it felt heavy. “She said neither of them deserved to be played. And she’s right, Hyun.”

Hyunjin let out a humorless laugh. “Okay, but she just forced you to kiss one of them in front of the other. That’s not playing them?”

You didn’t answer, just tugged at the sleeve of your hoodie.

Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair before tossing an arm around your shoulder. “You know you don’t deserve that, right?”

You leaned into him slightly, your head against his shoulder. “Yeah. I don’t know.” But it came out too soft.

He squeezed your arm. “No, really. Whatever’s happening with Bangchan or Mingyu—that’s your business. Not hers. She just wanted to make you feel small.”

You exhaled slowly, your chest a little less tight. “Thanks, Dr. Hwang.”

He grinned softly. “Anytime. That’ll be five hundred bucks.”

You rolled your eyes, but for the first time that night, the weight in your chest didn’t feel unbearable.

The kitchen was quiet, the only sound was the faint clink of a spoon against ceramic as Bangchan poured himself a bowl of cereal. The morning light cast soft shadows across the counter, making everything feel strangely delicate—except for the tension sitting thick in the air between you.

You took a breath and stepped closer. “Hey.”

Nothing.

You swallowed. “Can we talk?”

Still nothing. He reached for the milk, pouring it over his cereal like you weren’t even standing there.

“Bangchan.” Your voice was softer now, almost pleading.

He picked up his bowl, turned, and walked right past you, settling on the couch without so much as a glance in your direction. The TV clicked on. Your stomach twisted.

You stood there for a second, waiting, hoping, begging for him to look up, to roll his eyes, to say something. But he didn’t. It was like you didn’t exist.

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing down whatever was threatening to rise in your throat, then turned and walked away. By mid-morning, the house was awake. Someone had music playing low, there was laughter in the distance, but you still felt stuck in that moment—frozen in that awful, deafening silence.

You needed to get out. You slipped on your shoes and grabbed a jacket, making your way to the door when a voice stopped you.

“Going somewhere?”

You turned to see Mingyu, leaning against the doorway, hair still messy from sleep, looking at you like he already knew the answer.

“Just for a walk,” you said, pulling your sleeves over your hands.

He studied you for a beat before tilting his head. “Mind if I come?”

For a second, you hesitated. But then your mind flickered back to Bangchan—the way he didn’t even look at you, the way he shut you out completely.

You forced a small smile. “Yeah, sure.”

And just like that, you left. Not once bothering to glance back. You already knew—Bangchan hated you right now.

The two of you walked along the damp trail, the scent of rain still clinging to the air. Mingyu shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you every now and then like he was waiting for you to say something. But you didn’t.

“So,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “you’ve been acting weird.”

You let out a breathy laugh, kicking at a loose pebble. “That’s just my personality.”

Mingyu huffed. “I mean it. You’re… somewhere else.”

You didn’t answer right away. It wasn’t like you could just spill everything. Instead, you shrugged. “Just tired, I guess.”

He didn’t look convinced. “You know, for someone who loves running their mouth, you go real quiet when it actually matters.”

You shot him a look. “Are you psychoanalyzing me now?”

“I’m just saying,” he mused, “we were good. But now it feels like you’re—” He paused, searching for the right word. “—drifting.”

That stung a little. Because he wasn’t wrong.

“I’m not drifting,” you muttered. “I’m just… thinking.”

Mingyu tilted his head, studying you. “Thinking about what?”

Your throat tightened. If you started talking, you weren’t sure what would come spilling out. About Bangchan. About Eunji. About the fact that maybe you were the problem.

Instead, you forced a smirk. “Whether or not I should push you into that puddle.”

Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. Keep avoiding.” He kicked at the dirt. “I just… don’t want things to get weird with us.”

Something in your chest twisted. Because the truth was, things already were weird. And it wasn’t fair to Mingyu—he didn’t even know why.

You nudged his arm with your elbow, keeping your voice light. “Things aren’t weird.”

Mingyu arched his brow. “You won’t even look at me.”

You blinked. He caught that? Finally, you sighed. “Mingyu…”

Mingyu stopped walking. Just like that.

You felt it before you even turned to face him—that shift in the air, the tension settling between you like an invisible wall.

“Okay,” he said, voice calmer than it should’ve been. “Then what is it?”

You swallowed. “What?”

“You’re pulling away. I wanna know why.” He held your gaze, steady and unwavering. “Because I thought things were going great.”

Your stomach twisted. They were going great. And maybe in another universe—one where things were simpler, where your heart didn’t trip over itself every time Bangchan so much as looked at you—things would’ve kept going great.

Mingyu exhaled through his nose. “Is it him?��

Your mouth went dry.

“Bangchan,” he clarified.

You rushed to shake your head, but he only let out a short laugh—humorless, bitter.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s what I thought.”

“Mingyu—”

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. “You know, I liked where this was going. I liked you. I still like you. And then he got in the middle of it.”

Your heart squeezed painfully. “It’s not like that. Just let me explain…”

“Isn’t it?” He let out another laugh, sharper this time. “Come on. You can’t even look at me properly. Every time I touch you, it’s like you flinch. And I was dumb enough to think it was just nerves, or maybe I was moving too fast, but no.” He shook his head, gaze piercing. “It’s because you’re thinking about him.”

You opened your mouth, desperate to fix this, but what could you even say?

“I should’ve known,” he muttered. “Should’ve figured it out the second he started acting like a territorial asshole.”

“Mingyu, stop.” You stepped forward, reaching for his wrist. “Bangchan didn’t do anything.”

He pulled away. “Maybe not. But you did.”

Your breath hitched. What? He let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not playing games with you, alright?”

Before Mingyu could take another step, a voice sliced through the humid air.

"What the hell is going on?"

Bangchan’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. He was standing there, hoodie up, hands buried in his pockets, chest rising and falling like he’d sprinted here. His nose was red from the cold, but his eyes—his eyes were locked on you.

Mingyu let out a low, humorless chuckle, stepping back like he’d been expecting this. “Of course…” He dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

And just like that, the three of you were stuck in some ridiculous, messy standoff. You, standing awkwardly in the middle, Mingyu looking like he was ready to break something, and Bangchan… Well, he wasn’t even acknowledging Mingyu. His focus was entirely on you.

You cleared your throat, tugging your sweatshirt down like it could somehow shield you from the weight of their stares. “We were just talking…” you mumbled, trying—and failing—not to sound like you’d just been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Bangchan scoffed, arms crossing over his chest. “Didn’t sound like just talking.”

Mingyu stepped forward, half in front of you, half blocking Bangchan’s view. “And that’s none of your business, man. Now back off.”

You sighed, stepping beside Mingyu instead of behind him. “Seriously, guys—”

But they weren’t listening. Of course they weren’t. They were too busy puffing up their chests like two overgrown peacocks, shoulders squared, eyes locked, practically vibrating with testosterone and bad decisions.

“I’m not talking to you.” Bangchan tilted his head, eyes darkening. 

“You’re pathetic. Always trying to play the hero, the good guy, stepping in where no one asked you to.” Mingyu’s smirk dropped. “Thought you would’ve learned your lesson the first time.”

Your stomach twisted. “Mingyu.” Your voice was a warning, sharp and edged with something close to panic.

Because you knew exactly what he was talking about.

And so did Bangchan.

"Nah, let him talk." Bangchan tilted his head, a slow, mocking nod as his lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "How long have you been choking on that, huh? Must be rough, always coming in second. You should get used to it."

Mingyu stepped in without hesitation, their chests brushing for half a second before he shoved Bangchan back, hard enough to make your breath catch.

"You’re a fucking traitor." His voice was low, shaking with rage. "And you deserved every bit of shit you got."

Before you could process what was happening, his fist connected with Bangchan’s jaw. The crack of impact sent a jolt of shock through your spine, and you stumbled back.

"Guys!" you gasped, panic lacing your voice, but it was too late.

They were already on the ground, rolling through the damp grass like rabid animals, fists flying, grunts and sharp exhales cutting through the night air.

"Are you fucking serious?!" you shouted, your frustration mounting as they kept going, oblivious to anything but their own anger. You searched for something—anything—to break them up, but your hands were empty, and your patience was gone.

"Enough!" Your voice rang out, sharp and commanding, and for a second, the world stilled.

Breathing hard, they tore away from each other, chests heaving. Mingyu’s brow was split, blood trickling down the side of his face, while Bangchan wiped at his nose, already red with fresh blood.

You glared at them, heart racing. "Are you guys five? Actually, scratch that — five-year-olds have more self-control than this."

Bangchan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spitting blood onto the grass with a scoff. "Not my fault he couldn’t keep his fists to himself."

Mingyu scoffed, wiping at his brow. "And you fucking deserved it. Why do you always have to get in my way?"

Bangchan barely had time to take another step before your hand shot out, pressing against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“I said enough.” Your voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. You turned to Mingyu, exhaling through your nose. “Look, I’m sorry. I swear I never meant to hurt you. I just—I had too much going on, and I didn’t know how to handle it. You didn’t deserve to be lied to, and that’s on me. But this?” You gestured to the mess of blood and bruises between them. “This doesn’t make anything better.”

Mingyu let out a slow breath, dragging the back of his hand over his busted brow. He shook his head, jaw tight, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m not a fucking prize for you two to fight over, alright?” Your voice wavered slightly, but the fire in your eyes didn’t.

A bitter chuckle slipped from Mingyu’s lips as he took a step back. “Whatever.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off, disappearing into the night.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, but when you spun around, your anger reignited.

“And you!” You shoved Bangchan hard enough to make him step back, his expression shifting from confusion to something unreadable.

He barely got the chance to respond before you shoved him again, frustration bubbling over.

“You’re such a fucking idiot!”

Bangchan’s fingers wrapped around your wrists, but you wrenched free, stepping back like his touch burned. You were breathing hard, trying to hold yourself together, but the anger and frustration were clawing their way up your throat.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Your voice cracked, but you powered through. “We had the most perfect night and now everything is ruined!”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I wasn’t thinking, alright? I just—”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, no shit.”

Bangchan rolled his eyes, his jaw clenching. “You kissed him. In front of me. And then I had to sit there and listen to him act like you were his, like he knew you the way I do. I’m sorry if I still have a little heat in my blood, but I wasn’t about to let that slide.”

His chest was heaving, his breathing uneven, but you were past caring.

“You almost killed each other, Chan.”

“I regret it,” he admitted, his voice rough, “but not because of him.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking your head as tears burned behind your eyes. “This is a goddamn joke. Everything I was terrified of? It’s happening. People talking, twisting shit, and now look at me—I’m the villain in their little story. The indecisive bitch who couldn’t pick a side.”

Bangchan’s expression darkened. “Don’t say that. That’s not who you are—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Your voice was barely above a whisper now. “It’s too late, don’t you see?”

He reached for you, but you stepped back again. Your hands were shaking now, but you forced out a small, broken laugh. “This was never going to work. It never did. And I was an idiot to think otherwise.”

Bangchan's eyes flashed with something unreadable—panic, maybe—but you didn’t wait to figure it out. You were already turning away, putting more distance between you with every step. And this time, he didn’t stop you.

His hood slipped down as the wind howled between you, ripping through the space that had already grown too wide, too empty. His hair was a mess, his breathing uneven, and his eyes—God, his eyes—wild and desperate, like he was watching something slip through his fingers that he wasn’t ready to let go of.

“You don’t mean that.”

Your stomach twisted. Your pulse pounded in your throat. But you forced the words out anyway. “Yeah, I do.”

They tasted like blood, bitter and metallic, like something inside you had torn open. But you couldn’t take them back. You wouldn’t.

“It’s over, okay?” The breath you took was shaky, like your own body was rejecting the thought. “I’m sorry, but—”

“Hey, hey, wait…” His voice dropped, softer, pleading now. Like he thought this was fixable. Like you weren’t already breaking apart right in front of him. “What are you talking about?”

He reached for you, fingertips barely grazing your cheek—and you jerked back, every nerve ending screaming at the loss, but you couldn’t let him touch you. If he touched you, this would never end.

Bangchan’s jaw clenched. He exhaled sharply, like your rejection knocked the wind out of him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice barely holding together.

And then you turned, because if you stayed, if you let yourself see the wreckage in his expression for even one more second, you knew you wouldn’t have the strength to walk away at all.

The wind was ruthless, biting at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the sting in your chest. Or maybe it was the tears—hot, angry, relentless—that blurred your vision, dripping down your face before you even noticed they were there.

The weight pressing against your ribs grew heavier, unbearable, like your own body was turning against you. Walking wasn’t enough. Breathing wasn’t enough. You needed to run.

So you did.

Your feet pounded against the ground, carrying you toward the sea—the only thing vast enough, endless enough, to swallow you whole. But it wouldn’t take this away. It wouldn’t drown out the way his voice still clung to your skin, the way his touch still burned like a brand you couldn’t shake. 

You just needed to leave. To be alone.

To forget that, for one reckless, fleeting, stupid moment, your heart had ever dared to belong to Bangchan.

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