#bang chan dark hours
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𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅
Pairing: Vampire Bang Chan x sub fem!reader
Content Includes: DUB-CON, DARK FIC!!! blood play, kidnapping, mind manipulation, spit play, unprotected sex (he's a vampire so condoms aren't needed you know?), aphrodisiacs, biting, oral (fem receiving), jealous and possessive sex, praise, body worship, aftercare, bath sex, kissing, 18+
Word Count: 3K
It's pretty soft in it's dynamics honestly but the underlying themes are incredibly toxic and unhealthy so this is your final warning, this fic will not be for everyone.
You weren’t sure how long you’d been here—days, weeks? Time blurred together in the dim, lavish bedroom where Bang Chan kept you. The first days had been filled with resistance: pounding on the door, screaming for help, and refusing to eat. But Bang Chan had been patient, his eyes glinting with that quiet, obsessive resolve as he whispered promises that you would come to love him, that he’d make you see he was the only one who could care for you properly.
The last time you tried to run, he’d found you halfway down the staircase, dragging you back to this room as if you weighed nothing. That night, he’d fed you his blood for the first time, his lips pressed to your mouth as you resisted, his voice low and commanding. "Drink," he had said. "You’ll feel better. I promise."
You hated how right he’d been. The warmth of his blood coursing through you had sent a dizzying, molten pleasure straight to your core. It had softened every sharp edge of your defiance, leaving you pliant, your mind clouded with a hazy need for him.
Now, when the door creaked open, your heart skipped—not with fear but anticipation. Even as your mind rebelled, your body craved him, craved the dizzying ecstasy his blood brought.
Bang Chan stepped inside, his dark, predatory eyes drinking you in as you sat curled up on the bed. He looked as though he’d been pacing outside, his sleeves rolled up with his shirt undone at the collar, his hair a tousled mess, the remnants of blood on his lips and his mangled eye reflecting in the moonlight.
"Are you still sulking, baby?" he murmured, his voice low and almost tender. "Haven’t I given you everything?"
You didn’t answer, but your gaze betrayed you, flicking to the faint scar on his wrist. He caught the movement immediately, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips.
"You need me, don’t you?" he asked, approaching the bed with the careful intensity of a predator cornering its prey. "Even when you try to fight it, you feel it—the pull. My blood running through you, tying you to me."
Which was the point to all this wasn't it? For what could a man who can't be alone yet be sentenced to a lone eternity do?
He had to make you depend on him, feed off him, make you addicted to the aphrodisiac running through his veins, fill the void of emptiness in his dormant heart and replace it with your blood, your moans, your aching cunt and eventually...hopefully, your love and care.
Even if he had to force it, manipulate, take it.
You were the only thing he desired yet couldn't own entirely in his aimless, monotonous world.
He climbed onto the bed, his body caging you in as he cupped your face with one hand. His thumb brushed over your lips, and you shivered under his touch.
"Let me take care of you," he whispered, his voice trembling with need. "Let me give you everything you’ll ever desire."
He kissed you then, his lips soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you even as your mind screamed to resist. His hands slid down your body, peeling away the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirt to expose your skin to his hungry gaze.
"You’re so perfect," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a searing path of kisses, each leaving a crimson mark on your skin. "Every inch of you belongs to me. No one else will ever touch you, taste you, or even look at you."
He bit into his wrist without hesitation, his blood welling up in dark, crimson drops. Instead of pressing it to your lips, he leaned down, capturing your mouth with his. The metallic tang of his blood mixed with the heat of his kiss as he spat it into your mouth, his tongue chasing the last drops.
You moaned in euphoria at the taste of it, your tongue lapping at his bottom lip as your body became tingly with arousal and need, a burning heat pooling at your core and flowing to every limb and fibre of your being.
A firm hand wrapped around your neck and tilted you up so you were staring at Bang Chan who's eyes were deep and shadowed and held an unsettling combination of adoration and dominance, a bottomless pit of longing and control that promised he’d never let you go.
"Swallow," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.
You obeyed, your body shivering as the warm, heady rush of his blood spread through your veins. The haze returned instantly, a fog of contentment and submission that made you pliant under his touch.
"That’s it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, hand slowly releasing. "Feel how much you need me. Feel how good it is to give in to me."
You could only whimper in response, your eyes becoming glassy from receiving your daily fix- too fucked out to notice his smirk as Bang Chan kissed his way down your skin, unbuttoning his shirt as he does so.
By the time he was finished with your torso, your skin was covered in shades of pomegranate and crimson, your nipples swollen and kiss-bruised, you were a canvas for his all too-consuming desires. Your marked flesh returned to blank perfection by the healing powers of his blood, which only provided the permission he needed to claim you again.
He removed his shirt, letting it fall to the ground as you gazed in awe at his torso, untainted and marble-toned under the moonlight. His hands moved between your thighs, spreading them apart as you lay pliant for him. His mouth is pressed against your skin in the softest of kisses before puncturing the skin with his fangs, his eyes lidded in a complete state of pleasure as he drank from you.
You barely had time to recover and notice the pain before his tongue lapped at your core with an unrelenting intensity that left you gasping.
"You taste like my redemption," he groaned, his voice muffled against you, his tongue drawing circles and suckling on your clit at an inhuman pace. "My heaven. And you’ll never need anyone but me."
The pleasure built quickly, your body trembling under his expert touch. Just as you reached the edge, he pulled back, his lips glistening with blood and your slick as he looked up at you.
"I won't let you cum yet until I've been satiated by the warm, sweet, wet cunt of yours." He speaks as he undresses, removing his pants and shoes so he is fully nude, his muscles tense and cock hard and aching from how close he was about to enter into his paradise.
His fingers gently brush down the side of your face as he hovers over you, pushing your legs apart with his knee so he could slot between them, running his fingers down the sides of your body before pulling your knees up and around his waist.
There was no light apart from the essence of the moon streaming through the bare window so he was a shadow of your darkest fears and deepest cravings but he could see all of you, crave you, lavish at your beauty.
And it angered him to his core that he could never truly own you, that you couldn't be truly his unless you offered yourself to him freely.
"You’re mine," he said, his voice raw and filled with dark heat as he pushed into you, filling you completely.
Your nails dug into his shoulders as he moved inside you, his thrusts deep and desperate, his hands gripping your waist as if he feared you might vanish beneath him.
Bang Chan always entered you without any type of preparation, he was so cold and you were so warm, breathing fire into him from the outside in, the first push into your tight, warm and wet heat had him teetering on the edge of his orgasm every, single time.
For you however, it would have been painful without the blood but with it alighting you with flames from the inside and out, the stretch of him filling you and settling so perfectly inside of you was enough for your body to shake and tremble from how close you were to eternal bliss, your loud moans filling the room as your nails raked down his back, pulling him closer to you.
"Yes, mark me, scrape your nails down my back, make me feel alive again," the words were laced with a gravelly husk, his voice breaking. "Say you’ll always need me. Say you’ll love me the way I love you."
"I’ll never leave," you whispered, the words spilling from your lips without hesitation.
"Good girl," he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as his thrusts grew erratic. "You’re my good girl. Always."
His thrusting slowed to light grinding as he bit his wrist again, tearing open the barely healed wound with his fangs as the blood pooled from his mouth, streaming down his chin and dripping over your chest as you sensually opened your mouth to receive the drug in its purest form, swallowing and gulping all that you craved as Bang Chan pushed the essence further into your mouth, ensuring every part of your mouth and teeth were covered with his tongue.
You could feel his cock pulsing inside of you from this intimate act, an exchange of life force, a life he desperately wanted to give you and a life you can live with if it means feeling like this every day.
His thrusts grew faster again, his hips snapping against yours as he balanced himself on his arms, his right hand moving down your abdomen, leaving streaks of blood in their wake as his fingers nestled against your clit, his face shining with pride at your enthusiasm and pleading whines to finish.
"You're getting tired aren't you?" Bang Chan cooed at you in a slightly mocking tone, his eyes flashing a hint of mischief as he maintained his pace, not even breathless or a hair out of its place.
"I'll let you rest after you've cum for me babygirl, soak my cock for me, squeeze me with that perfect cunt of yours yeah?"
You reached your orgasm just moments later, your back arched and mouth open in a silent scream, draped in a way that Bang Chan could only describe as nirvana, his secret elysium from the agony of living forever.
The bedroom was silent except for the sound of your labored breaths, the aftermath of your intimacy still tingling through your body. Bang Chan hovered above you, his dark, piercing eyes studying your face with a mix of obsession and adoration.
"Don't fall asleep yet" he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. "I need you to get cleaned up baby. Let me take care of you."
Before you could respond, he scooped you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly into the bathroom. The room was filled with the faint scent of lavender, the soft yellow lighting casting a homely ambience in the room. He settled you over his lap as he fiddled with the taps, rubbing your back lightly as the tub filled up.
Chan didn’t say a word as he set you down in the tub, his hands moving to cup and pour water over with a careful reverence. His fingers lingered as he began to wash the blood off your chest with his bare hands, his touch igniting fresh sparks of heat wherever it grazed your skin.
"You’re so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with emotion. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and all-consuming.
He stepped into the bath when he was ready, his body facing yours. The warmth of the water enveloped you as he helped you sink into the tub, your back resting against the porcelain.
Chan seated himself between your legs, the water lapping gently against his toned chest as his hands roamed over your body. "Just lie there baby, let me heal you" he murmured, his lips trailing from your collarbone to the swell of your breasts. His kisses were soft, reverent, each one filled with a silent promise.
His hands moved with practiced care, spreading soap over your skin as he washed you, his touch lingering in a way that made your breath hitch. "I'll keep you safe," he whispered, his voice gentle, with an underlying edge of possessiveness "Even if it means locking you away where no one else can take you from me."
The bathwater was beginning to darken in a hue of red as he washed the blood away, his cock hardening and skin burning with need at your beautiful body underneath him, your face looking so pure under the warm light and under his tarnished, sin-covered hands.
When you gazed up at him through your lashes, there was a sense of gratitude and care in them, like you were genuinely enjoying and appreciating this moment of care despite his blood in your veins thickly veiling the reality of this moment.
But it was enough for Bang Chan, his appetite for you insatiable and unwavering, every moment when he wasn't over you, holding you, being inside of you, dripping his blood into you would cause him desperate, emotional pain and an ache to tether his skin to yours.
His lips found yours again, his kiss deep and unyielding as he pressed closer, his body hovering over yours. The water shifted as he manoeuvred you, his strong arms bracing on either side of you as he caged you in.
"I'll make you need me" he said, his voice trembling with a mix of desperation and hunger. "I'll be the only thing you'll ever crave, even if I have to make you depend on it."
His mouth captured yours in a bruising kiss, and you gasped as he positioned himself at your entrance. His dark eyes met yours, his expression raw and unhinged as he whispered, "Say you’re mine."
"I’m yours," you breathed, the words spilling from your lips before you could think.
"That’s my girl," he groaned, his voice breaking as he pushed inside you. The water rippled around you, the heat of it amplifying the sensation as he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts.
The sudden intrusion made you wince in discomfort slightly but the ache was only fleeting before the familiar pleasure swept through your body, your body already conditioning itself for Chan's purpose as your legs automatically parted and your arms wrapped around his shoulders.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough as his hands roughly grabbed the side of your face . "I need to see you, need to know you’re not thinking about anyone else."
He always wanted to make love to you whilst he was above you, having you pinned underneath him- purely because he enjoyed how powerless you looked but also because he needed you to look into his lovesick eyes and know how obsessed he was over you, how he'd kill for you, how every breath you exhaled was on his conditions.
"I’m not," you whispered, your voice trembling as his pace quickened.
"Good," he rasped, his forehead pressing against yours. "Because no one will ever love you the way I do. No one else will ever take care of you like this. And I'll spend a fucking eternity proving it to you if I have too".
And how could you think of anyone else when every fibre of him was in you, his blood in your veins, his words in your brain, his teeth in your skin, his cock hard and plunging into you...because you were just as twisted and obsessed he was, obsessed for the fix, for his care, his words, his undying devotion towards- it was an addiction you could not quell, nor desire too.
His thrusts grew deeper, more desperate, the water splashing gently against the edges of the tub. His lips found yours again, his kiss feverish as if he could seal you to him forever.
"Tell me how to make you happy," he begged, his voice breaking as his movements faltered, his need for you overwhelming him. "Tell me what I have to do to make you stay with me."
"You already do," you managed to whisper, your hands clutching the tendrils of his hair as the pleasure he gave you consumed you.
"Say it again," he demanded, his voice trembling with emotion.
"You make me happy," you said, your words spilling out in breathless gasps.
His grip on you tightened as he buried himself deeper, his lips pressing against your neck as he groaned, "That’s it, baby. You’re mine. Always mine."
The tension coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped, leaving you both trembling as the waves of pleasure washed over you. He held you close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "I’ll never let you go. Never."
After a moment, he eased back just enough to slide out, pulling you on top of him so you were resting against his chest, his hands rubbing gentle strokes up and down your back.
"Don't ever think of leaving me" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but firm and edged with a thinly veiled threat.
"You won't like what I become if you do".
Surprise!!! What a way to end 2024 everyone, a final gift for you all to say goodbye and welcome the new year.
I've been wanting to write this type of fic for Chris for months now and railway was the final thing needed for me to break my writer's block and write something.
My most popular fic ever of 2024 was in fact my Haunting Adeline fic with Yunho so whilst I won't write dark fic all the time, I'll probably write more of it if you can handle reading more of it.
Incredibly grateful and appreciative to everyone I've interacted with and spoken to this year, let's see what the next 12 months will bring and inspire out of me.
Kisses and hugs to all of you!!!
Taglist: @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @craxy-person @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @sensitiveandhungry @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @starillusion13 @justaaveragereader @ja3hwa @jus2passtime @shroomoth @marykpoppins @leomggg @daddysspecialdollyworld @mykryptonitelight @wisejudgedragonhairdo @sanakimohara @chansfavouritetoy
#kpop smut#stray kids smut#stray kids hard hours#skz smut#skz hard hours#bang chan smut#bangchan smut#bang chan hard hours#bangchan hard hours#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#bang chan x reader#bang chan fanfic#bangchan fanfic#stray kids fic#skz fic#bang chan fic#bangchan fic#dark fic#yandere skz#yandere bang chan#wudwnsy
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SKZ smutty fanfic tropes that are most likely to be reality
note: this is just for fun, please don't come for me (but also...am I right??)
dom!Chan (soft!dom or hard!dom, idc, but you KNOW this guy just grins at you while you're begging to c*m)
whiny Jisung (need I say more)
ass/boob lover Changbin (i can def hear him say something like "I'm a man after all")
somehow pervy Jeongin? (i'm sorry babybread...no one buys your innocence)
Feel free to add more!
#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids hard hours#skz hard hours#skz after dark#bang chan smut#changbin smut#jeongin smut#han jisung smut#skz smut#stray kids smut
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that's a warning
summary: your professor's age is not a problem to you. and neither is his dark secret... pairing: professor!chan x uni student!reader genre: dark academia, vampire!au, smut warnings: professor/student dynamic, age gap (unspecified), mentions of toxic friend, descriptions of blood, kissing, biting, eating out, blowjob, daddy kink (who's surprised?), ddlg implied, size kink, unprotected sex, forbidden relationship, insecurities, danger kink author's note: this is based on a dream i had + inspired by railway, obviously. read at your own risk 🥵 too many references to the song's lyrics in bold, sawrryyy word count: 3k
The moment you set your eyes on Professor Bang, you know that you need to have him. You've never felt an attraction so intense, so overpowering, so sinister in its obsession. You are willing to go to any lengths to get close to him. Even if it kills you.
It starts off innocent, almost childlike. The way you stay after his lectures to ask him silly questions (you know the answers to) about the homework. Sometimes you ask him about the location of other lecture halls (even though you've been to them hundreds of times). Sometimes you go to his office hours just to be alone with him (even though you are perfectly confident in understanding the study material).
At first, Chan accepts your incessant flood of questions with an easy-going smile. If he's being honest with himself, he likes the attention. It's been a while since someone's been that interested in talking to him. Especially someone so…young. Most students usually avoid his intense stare. He's been told it's far too intimidating. He tries to be welcoming to everyone but he's not sure he's doing a good job.
But as the semester nears its end, his patience wears thin. You always get full marks on your assignments and quizzes so he doesn't understand why you are constantly asking for his "help". And he's certain you know your way around the university better than any other student. You're always on time and your homework is flawless 100% of the time. So, he really doesn't get it. Are you messing with him? Is it funny to you to joke around with a poor old lonely professor?
Chan's decided he's had enough. And this time, when you catch him alone after the lecture, he's going to confront you.
"Cut the act," Professor Bang scolds you directly. "I know you know the answer to that question. Why are you doing this to me?"
"Doing what, Professor Bang?" you ask innocently, while batting your eyelashes.
"Pretending you're dumb. It's obvious you're a top student, so why are you always asking me stuff?" he grunts and pins you down with his intense gaze you're so addicted to.
Hell, you've never felt more terrified. It excites you.
"Don't you know already?" you mumble quietly. You want to look away but you're trapped in his beautiful dark eyes. So you don't.
"Is it fun, messing with an old man like me, huh? Is it some stupid college dare?" Chan asks, his insecurities getting the worst of him.
"You're not old," you insist passionately. "There's no dare. I just…like you."
"You…like me?" he repeats in disbelief.
You nod furiously, trying to convince him of your sincerity.
"But…why?"
"What do you mean why? You're so smart and handsome and sometimes even cute. I like…how you explain stuff like you don't think anyone is dumb, you're so patient and…warm."
Huh. Warm? It's been a while since someone's used that word to describe him, Chan thought.
"You do realize we could both get in trouble if…" he can't even believe he's even considering this. "If we were to…pursue something outside of the university walls?"
Fuck it, he said it.
"I know. I won't tell anyone, I promise," you are desperately grasping at straws as you find yourself so close to the one thing you've ever wanted more than anything.
Professor Bang shakes his head.
"I'm not asking you to keep it a complete secret. Just…if you choose to share it with people, be careful who you trust."
"I understand, Professor, I'll be careful," you promise.
"And…call me Chris or Chan or something," he shrugs. "When it's just us two."
God. It's really happening.
"Let me take you out to a restaurant," he offers suddenly. "Tomorrow evening?"
"That sounds amazing!" you grin excitedly.
Your first date with Chan arrives and you are so happy you feel like you could die. You don't wanna jinx things so soon and don't tell anyone where you're going.
"You look stunning," he compliments your dress as he pulls a chair out for you.
"Thank you so much, Chris," you smile and take a seat. "You look absolutely dashing, as always."
He chuckles but doesn't respond rightaway.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, it's just…I don't hear that much. Especially not from beautiful young women such as yourself."
"You're surely joking?" you frown. "Anyone would kill to be in my shoes right now."
"You're too kind," Chan replies, not seeming to believe your words and you decide to drop the subject. For now. "What would you like to drink?"
"Hmm…maybe some red wine?"
"Good choice," he smirks. "And food?"
"I'm really into pasta these days!" you squeal with excitement.
Chris orders for the two of you, making your heart flutter for the hundredth time. He's just…so dependable.
Till the food arrives, you busy yourselves with getting to know each other better. Outside of the university walls, it turns out you are both passionate about things other than academic endeavours. And with each glass of red, it becomes easier to share stuff about yourself with him.
As the evening nears its natural conclusion, Chan insists on paying the bill for the food and drinks.
"Now I feel bad," you pout adorably, clinging onto his arm for support, because all the wine made your legs slightly unstable. "Let's go for coffee!"
"I don't…really drink coffee," Chris confesses shyly.
"Tea, then! Please, I don't want to go home just yet. This night is so perfect, I don't want it to end."
"Okay, okay," he agrees easily.
You lead the way to one of your favourite cafés. This time, you excitedly pay for the warm beverages.
"It's snowing outside!" you marvel at the pretty snowflakes falling, illuminated by the street lights.
"Good thing we're all cozy and inside, then," Chan chuckles.
"Yeah…" you smile softly. "I really like you, Chan," you admit.
"I know, you said that a couple of times," he shakes his head, amused.
"Yes, but…you didn't say anything. Do you like me, too?" you inquire self-consciously.
"I do like you. You're very clever and funny and obviously super pretty."
"Really?" you blink furiously to stop yourself from tearing up. You don't get to hear something like that by someone you admire so much. Someone who inspires you to be as diligent and hard-working as him. Scratch that. You don't get to hear words like that very often. It sometimes strikes you how badly you need to be acknowledged for your efforts.
"You must know that."
"No, actually, I don't," you smile sadly. "But it's really nice of you to say it. True or not."
Chan stretches his hand out across the table to hold yours.
"Hey. It's true, okay?"
"Guess I'll stick around to find out, yeah? And maybe I'll help you believe it, too," you suggest.
"Maybe. I'd really like that."
And stick around you do. The next semester, Chan is no longer your Professor, so you don't have to worry so much about getting in trouble with the university's authorities. Eventually, as things start becoming more serious, you decide to share the news about your boyfriend's identity with a few of your closest friends.
Luckily, most of them are super supportive and happy about your relationship. They tell you that you've looked happier recently and are pleased to finally know the reason. There is one friend, however, who is completely against.
"I don't approve. You can't date him," she outright says.
"Can't? Excuse me?" you become aggravated. You've had some fights in the past, situations when she's been jealous of you hanging out with other friends and has done some toxic stuff behind your back. So, her reaction doesn't come as a complete surprise. But still, it sucks that she hasn't outgrown this kind of pettiness.
"He's like…too old for you. And the fact he was your Professor is just…gross."
"How can you say that? You've never even met him."
"Then, let me meet him."
"Why would you meet him if you've already made up your mind?"
"To make sure he's worthy of you, duh."
"That's my call to make. Not yours."
And with that, you leave. This is just…too much. Later, you talk to another friend about this situation to get a second opinion.
"Nah, fuck her. I mean, it's your relationship, she can't dictate how you feel or who you're seeing romantically."
"Right? That's exactly what I've been thinking."
"It sucks that she said those stuff but maybe you're better off," your other friend shrugs.
"Yeah…For the time being, I'll distance myself from her. If she starts acting like an adult, only then will I consider letting her back in."
"That's totally valid," your friend agrees. "Take your time and look after your mental health."
"Thank you so much. I knew you'd get it."
"Always!"
Soon after that, you hang out at Chan's place and you decide to talk talk to him about the falling-out with that toxic friend.
"Well, technically, I am too old for you."
"The fuck you are! Are you taking her side?" you cry out passionately.
"Hell, no! I'm just saying…you could find any college guy your age and…"
"No, shut up, Chris!" you shake your head, refusing to entertain such an idea. "I don't want anyone but you!"
"But I'm dangerous for you," Chan sighs. But you can't believe that. He's been nothing but kind and accepting in the short time you've known each other.
"What do you mean?" you ask.
"You'd think I'm crazy if I told you," he grins somewhat devilishly. "It'd be better if I showed you instead. But then, I'd have to kill you."
"W-what?" you stammer, his behaviour totally unlike the gentle guy you're used to seeing.
Suddenly, Chris grabs your wrist and starts pulling you somewhere.
"W-where are we g-going?" you ask helplessly but he doesn't respond. He's too strong to fight him back so you just try to keep up with his speed and follow him down the stairs and into the basement. Where you'll find answers to questions you didn't even know you were supposed to be asking.
When he unlocks the door, you are greeted with red. A lot of it.
"What is all this?"
"Come on, sweetheart, I thought you were smarter than that," Chris chuckles.
"It's…blood banks," you state the obvious, feeling dumber than ever.
"Wow, you don't say," Chris replies sarcastically.
"Why…why do you have all this blood in your basement? Is it like a…kink thing?!" you gasp in shock.
"No, darling, it's not a kink thing," he laughs, the idea incredibly amusing. "Take a guess."
"Are you a serial killer?" you try to think of a logical explanation.
"You're too realistic," Chris sighs. "Think…something you never thought possible."
"You're…a vampire!" you exclaim triumphantly.
"Bingo," he confirms unenthusiastically. "So, your friend was correct to worry. I am too old for you. And bad for you. I never should have let this go so far."
You shake your head.
"N-no, she's not right," you disagree. "I don't care."
"You don't care?" Chris tilts your chin up, facing you directly. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to restrain myself from sucking your blood dry?"
You gulp nervously but refuse to believe he'd actually do that. Especially considering he hasn't done so already…
"Why did you become a Professor surrounded by so many humans if self-control is so hard for you?" you push back cleverly.
"It's never been a problem for me to control my thirst. Until you."
"Then, why did you let me get so close?" you inquire.
"Because I was weak…And lonely. I shouldn't have let you in."
Your eyes tear up with emotion.
"Are you saying you'd be happier without me?"
"Happier?" Chris scoffs. "No, I wouldn't be happier. But you would be safer without me."
"Fuck that," you argue. "I am safe when it's just you and me. Knowing you're a vampire changes nothing about how I feel about you."
"Then, you're even more insane than I am," Chris sighs, unable to deny the growing tension between you two.
You kiss him roughly to prove him right, digging your fingers into his soft hair. He kisses you back just as hungrily, incapable of letting you go.
Yes, he may be dangerous for you. But so are you. Willingly pursuing him, not running away from him despite knowing the truth.
He grabs your hair and pulls back, exposing your neck.
"Last chance to get out of here. That's a warning," Chris whispers darkly.
"Is that a threat or a promise?" you grin, completely trusting him.
Even if he was your Professor, even if he is way older than you than you initially thought, even if he is a blood-sucking predator, there is no one else you'd trust so unconditionally, so irrevocably.
"What if I hurt you?" he asks, a hint of worry making his dark eyes glow with warmth.
"You couldn't," you insist and close your eyes, tilting your neck. "You can bite me, if you want."
"You're crazy," Chris repeats.
"I trust you," you speak your thoughts out loud.
And this is his breaking point. He attacks your neck with his sharp fangs, not wanting to hold back any longer. The bite stings but in such a sweet way you would be happy to go, if this was your fate…As he drinks from you, you weakly wrap your hands around his neck for support, needing him to ground you. Just as badly as he needed one taste from your delicious blood. If your blood is what Chris needs for survival, then he will surely be your undoing.
Somehow, against all reason, Chan manages to detach his fangs from your neck.
"Fuck," he caresses your neck, smearing the blood all over your porcelain skin. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," you murmur dazedly. "I'm okay."
He holds you close, kissing your cheeks and trying to clean up the mess he made.
"Let's get out of here," Chan suggests and lifts you in his arms, carrying you back to the coziness of his place.
"I don't mind," you reassure him. "You being a vampire, that is. I love every part about you. I love...you."
"You…love me?" Chan gasps in surprise.
"I do, I love you," you say once again for good measure.
He doesn't say anything, just kisses you again in disbelief. You hug him tightly, finding so much comfort in his arms. Whatever you've heard about vampires doesn't apply to Chan. He's radiating so much warmth you feel you could burn.
"Hold on tight," he warns and you grip the headboard top rail for dear life, as Chan makes sure to show you blood is not the only thing he's interested in drinking.
As he laps up your juices greedily, you find yourself on the verge of losing your sanity. Your hands give out and you let go of the bed's railings and opt for burying your fingers into his curls once more for support.
"Chris, please, please," you cry out, not even sure what you're begging for. For him to stop? For sweet release? It doesn't matter, as long as he stays with you.
Soon enough, your prayers are answered and you start seeing stars floating in the middle of the room.
"Did I kill you already?" he laughs upon seeing your reaction.
"Try harder," you tease him, even though you are already so gone.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Chris shrugs.
He takes off his jeans and stuffs your mouth full with his giant cock. You try to babble something but it's no use and your helplessness only turns him on more. You hug the back of his knees and let him fuck your throat as he pleases, even though you don't have much of a choice in the matter. Your vision is cloudy with tears and you can't even ask for mercy as his cum starts flooding your mouth. If you thought him drinking your blood was overwhelming, this is on a whole 'nother level of dizzying.
Once he's done using and abusing your throat, he pulls his cock out, smirking at you from above.
"You okay, sweetheart? Still alive?"
"Y-yes, d-daddy," you manage to croak out weakly.
Chris shakes his head in amusement upon hearing the sudden title.
"Then, I guess Daddy's gonna have to give ya a rough ride so you'll forget your own name, huh? How does that sound?"
"More, please," you plead desperately and he makes good on his promise.
He enters you without another warning and you can't keep your screams inside.
"G-god, y-yes," you moan.
"God isn't in this room, darling," Chris cackles maniacally. "The devil, however…"
You kiss him again because he's talking so much your brain can't keep up.
"S-so b-big," you cry.
"Yeah? Too big for my little girl?" he teases you.
"N-no. P-perfect. You're perfect," you insist stubbornly.
Chris fucks into you with supernatural stamina and you are grateful for that because even though you want to, you aren't able of keeping pace with him. Instead, you are happy to just hold onto him and focusing all your energy into…well, not passing out. You're so wet for him that his enormous size slides in and out easily, satisfying both of you with the intensity of the feeling. At last, you cum together, overwhelmed by the passion and affection you feel for each other.
He collapses on top of you, not wanting to pull out just yet. You welcome his weight like he's a giant blanket, comforting you.
"Don't wanna let go of you," Chan murmurs cutely.
You stroke his hair once more with a gentle touch. How is this man who has so many more years of experience still such a cute boy, desperate for tenderness?
"Then, don't. I'm all yours to keep," you chuckle weakly.
"That wouldn't be very productive to our academic future," Chan complains.
"It's okay. I feel like we've both earned a little break," you point out.
"From university? Sure. But when it comes to us two…I need no break. No brakes."
"Nicely said," you giggle, ready for another round on this train that never sleeps.
The End
#bang chan x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids smut#bang chan smut#chan x reader#chan smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfic#skz scenarios#stray kids#chan#writing
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Mind-Numbing Melody | Bang Chan
Synopsis: Chan has been unmotivated lately when it comes to producing; however, he comes across a melodic idea that he just cannot resist. He just needs your help to fulfill it.
Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader
Genre: Smut, Slight Fluff
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (18+ Recommended), dom!Bang Chan, sub!reader, pet names (pretty girl, darling, good girl, etc.), biting, marking, fingering, slight edging, teasing, begging, unprotective penetrative sex (please use protection), Chan uses reader's moans in a song
Notice: Hello, my darlings! I know it has been weeks since the release of SKZHOP, but Railway has been driving me absolutely bonkers, so enjoy this fiction I wrote when I discovered you could hear Chan moaning in the background of the song :,D
Divider By: @anitalenia
Smut under the cut!
The studio was steeped in a familiar glow, its dim lighting wrapping around stacks of forgotten notes, tangled cords, and empty coffee cups that lined the console like weary sentinels. Chan hunched over the keyboard, fingers tapping an irregular, impatient rhythm. It had been days, weeks even, of this same cycle—blank stares at a blank screen, fleeting sparks of inspiration that fizzled out as quickly as they arrived.
The room smelled faintly of espresso and something sharper, a sort of musk as if Chan's frustration was materializing into a smell. The scent was Chan's constant companion these days, a reminder that no matter how hard he pushed, the music would remain just out of reach.
You watched him from the warm leather couch in the corner, your legs curled beneath you as your phone rested forgotten on your lap. He was quiet, but not in the comforting way he usually was. This silence was heavy, nearly oppressive.
"You're going to burn a hole into that screen," you finally said, your voice teasing but soft, careful not to break him entirely out of whatever fragile trance he was in.
Chan glanced over his shoulder at you, a faint, tired smile curving his lips upwards in a manner that did not quite reach his eyes.
"Maybe I can burn some inspiration into it," he murmured, turning back to the keyboard. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a way that let you know how sore it was from hours of tensing.
He absentmindedly clicked through the tabs open on his browser, hoping something would reignite his motivation. A playlist was open on his monitor, softly blaring tracks from artists he admired; most of them were songs that sparked awe and envy in an equal measure. But it was the headline of an article on trends in modern music that caught his eyes, words he had previously skimmed earlier in the day: "Personal Touch: The Rise of Intimacy in Music Production."
He had not thought much of it at the time, dismissing it as another gimmick. Now, in the late-night haze of desperation and coffee-stained reality, the concept felt like a thread to cling to. The idea of creating something raw, something undeniably intimate, grew in his mind. When he looked at you, lounging on that couch as if you were a calm in the storm, an idea began to crystalize.
You caught his gaze, brows furrowing slightly in concern as you noticed the shift in his expression—an intense focus, almost predatory, like he had just discovered something precious.
"What?" you asked, nerves and curiosity blending in your tone.
Chan stood slowly, the chair rolling back with a low creak. When he crossed the room, every step deliberate, your heart began to beat just a bit faster. He dropped to one knee in front of you, the studio's ambient light casting shadows against the defined angles of his jawline. His fingers found your thighs, resting there lightly at first, then gripping just enough to make your pulse quicken.
"I need your help," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through you.
"With what, my love?" You tilted your head, trying to read the intent behind his lustful, dark eyes.
"There's this idea I have," he began, thumb absently stroking the fabric of your sweatpants. "I read this article—something about artists using intimate sounds from their partners in songs. Breaths, moans, everything. I can't stop thinking about how you would sound in one of my songs." His gaze dropped to where his fingers rested against your thighs, almost reverent in a way.
"Your voice, the way you sound when it's just us...I think it could be the spark I'm missing."
Your breath caught in your throat. The idea was audacious, bordering on the verge of scandalous, yet it held an allure you could not deny. You imagined it— your moans hidden between beats and chords only you could notice.
"You're serious?" you questioned, voice barely reaching above a whisper. Chan nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a certain vulnerability that made your heart clench.
"I've been so stuck, but the thought of creating something with you that's so raw and real...it just feels right."
You swallowed, the weight of his request pressing down on you in the best possible way. The trust, the intimacy—it was more than you had ever imagined sharing with Chan, moreso the audience that would be tuning into the song.
"Okay," you agreed softly, the word containing every ounce of trust and anticipation you felt.
Chan's lips curved into a slow, sincere smile, and he leaned foreward to press a kiss against your forehead. It was warm, lingering, a promise as much as it was a kiss.
"You have no idea how much this means to me," he mumbled as he pulled away.
Before you could reply, he captured your lips with his, a kiss that was at first gentle, exploratory; it then deepened into something that made the studio air feel heavy, electric. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you melted into him, a symphony in the making.
This kiss grew hungrier, if that was possible, your hands tangling roughly into Chan's hair as he remained steady on your thighs. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and the soft gasp it elicited made him groan against your mouth.
"Just like that, pretty girl," he whispered, his voice hoarse as his lips brushed against yours.
Chan pulled away from you briefly, striding to his computer and clicking open an audio-recording tab; the faint glow of the monitor casted a faint shadow on the walls. You repositioned yourself as he opened the taper, falling back onto the cushions; he made his way back over to you, climbing over top of you on the couch, his hands tracing an agonizingly slow path up your sides.
Every movement and every touch was unhurried, deliberate as though he was tuning you, finding the exact pitch that made you hum beneath his touch. His fingers danced over your skin, like he was learning the contours of an instrument. The press of his lips ignited sparks at every point of contact.
"Channie," you whispered as you intertwined one of his warm hands with yours; he stroked your cheek gently, smiling ever so lovingly at you.
"Relax for me," he purred before nipping his teeth at your neck ever so slightly. The motion caused you to shiver, your breath hitching in your throat as his lips travel from your neck slowly to your chest. There, he sucked small markings into your skin until purple and red adorned your chest. Welts became present due to his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before Chan moved to fiddle with the hem of your top.
"Are you alright with taking this further?" Chan questioned, assuring that he had your full consent before going farther.
"Yes," you breathed out, the words nearly getting stuck in your throat; your gaze flickers to the computer screen, watching as the speakers picked up each noise, the audio receptor's lines expanding with each recipient.
With your approval, Chan stripped you of your top, agonizingly slow albeit, his fingers moving their way to the clasp of your bra. He managed to undo the latch in one, swift motion, and before giving you time to think, his lips wrapped around your nipple.
You moaned as the warmth from his mouth and the wetness of his tongue sucked, kissed, and bit at your nipple, his tongue gliding over the sensitive region. His hands caressed your hips slowly before the right one moved up to attend to the neglected breast; his fingers rolled the bud, pinching, flicking and eliciting beautiful sounds from you.
"Don't hold back" Chan breathed out. "I want to hear everything."
At this point, your body was burning, both from Chan's actions and from the awareness that this was all going to be on tape; you felt a coating of arousal pool up at your core, causing you to rub your clothed thighs together in attempts to gain some sort of friction. Chan noticed the action almost instantly, grinding his hips slightly into yours; you sighed almost out of relief as you felt his own arousal poking through the black fabric of his loose shorts.
Chan lifts off of you, his hands reaching for the bottom of his hoodie; however, you stopped him, your hands mirroring his actions. You wanted to strip him, wanted to be the one to revel in revealing his perfection. Chan sighed out of contenment as you lifted the sweatshirt over his head, messing up his hair in the process and discarding the article somewhere on the studio floor.
Ridding the hoodie revealed a toned torso, with glimmering, slightly-tanned abs sparkling in the glow of the studio. You instinctually moved your hands to lay upon his chest, just as you had done so many times before, sliding your palms down his body smoothly and causing him to shiver. He positioned his body back above you, leaning over your smaller frame.
"Let me take care of you, Love," he lightly growled out as he moved his hands down to hook under the waistband of your pants, flicking his gaze to meet yours for approval. You nodded repeatedly, causing Chan to giggle as he slid your pants and underwear down, throwing the clothing alongside his hoodie.
He relished at your arousal, his eyes looking blown out before any sexual act had been committed.
"Look at you, Darling," he whispered, sliding a fingers through your wetness and causing you to whine. "Always so pretty for me."
Before you could comprehend his words, your mind increasingly numbing at his actions, Chan inserted his pointer fingers, pumping the digit in and out of you slowly. The contact elicited a string of hearty, genuine moans from you; admittedly, you were louder than you usually were during sex. You were not sure if it was because of the arousal of being recorded or if you just felt particularly frustrated that day.
Whatever it was, the sounds escaping you were particularly tumultuous, and Chan thought the octave was perfect for what he wanted to accomplish.
Chan inserted his middle finger minutes after his first digit, his pace quickening along with the speed of your whines. He maneuvered his hands, reaching to where his thumb could brush against your clit and allowing you to feel as if you were on cloud nine. You repeatedly clenched around him, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you slowly but surely; however, Chan removed his fingers before you could reach the finish line, which earned a loud, aggravated whine from you.
"Channie!" you groaned, your pussy clenching around nothing as you bucked your hips up instinctively, attempting to receive any type of contact, even the slightest motion, that would bring you to your end.
"Why?"
"Adds an element of fun," Chan responded, his lips quirked into a smug smirk, "both to the music and to our little moments."
"I can't wait anymore, Chan," you whimpered out in response, making your boyfriend tsk at you appraisingly before he slid off his own bottoms.
He quickly lined his cock up with your entrance, rubbing through your folds teasingly; he complimented the prior action poking at the hole.
"Are you ready, Darling?" he questioned.
"Yes!" you yelped out, positioning your legs to wrap around Chan's torso.
"Beg for it, then," he commanded, causing your eyes to widen and your cheeks to flush from embarassment.
"This wasn't apart of the plan," you quietly mewled as Chan halted his teasing motions.
"Mm, maybe not, but I know what gets a reaction out of you," Chan admitted leaning down to whisper in your ear, his hot breath fanning your ears. "I gotta make sure this melody encapsulates as much of your perfection as possible. So, baby girl, if you want the same thing, I suggest you get to begging."
You let out an annoyed huff, your lips pursing into a sheepish pout as you reluctantly did as demanded of you.
"Please, Channie," you pleaded, your arms gripping his shoulders. "I need you so bad please. Please, please, please, baby." Chan chuckled lightly at your beseeching as he placed his hands on either side of your face.
"Good girl," he praised gently.
With that, he gently pushed himself inside of you. You both gasped at the feeling; Chan's length filled you completely, causing you to tingle with excitement as the familiar stretch swiftly morphed from pain into pleasure.
You gave Chan the go-ahead to move, and he held your hips tightly as he thrusted in and out of you; his lips parted, making their way to kiss and nip at your skin, the tips of his canines lightly poking you.
"You always feel so amazing, my love," he moaned out; you simply sighed in pleasure, clenching yourself around him as you melted into his stature. Rushes of pleasure shot throughout your body as Chan tighlty gripped onto your hips, his nails causing indents in your flesh.
The knot tightening in your stomach returns throughout Chan's thrusts, and you are unable to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor from gentle to hazy. All you know is that it feels good and that you are losing yourself within his darkened gaze.
"Chan, oh my," you moan out, your voice high pitched and hoarse.
"You like that, Darling?" Chan questions as your noises pick up in pace. "Keep moaning for me. You're doing so well."
"'M close," you whimper out, holding onto Chan for dear life. Chan mandhandles your body upwards, still holding onto you in the new positions and burying his head in the crook of your neck.
"Cum for me then, Love," he commands; as soon as he gives the approval , your orgasm hits. Your brain becomes like mush, and your eyes flutter shut as the pleasure rocks through you.
You feel Chan halt in his movements and he slowly pulls out of you, allowing himself to finish on your stomach before laying beside you.
"Still with me?" he questions, pulling you into his arms.
"Mhm," you mumble, just barely able to hear his words. You feel tired all of a sudden, tangling your hands in Chan's hair, albeit much lighter this time.
"You did so good, Baby," Chan praised, holding you tightly against him. "Wait until you hear how beautiful you sound."
A week had passed since that night in the studio. You had not been allowed to hear the song yet, as Chan insisted it was, "not ready." His process was meticulous, almost obsessive, and though your curiosity burned, you let him do his thing.
Now, you were back in the studio, perched on the same couch where it had all happened. Chan stood by the mixing console, his headphones draped around his neck, a spark of nervous energy buzzing in his movements.
“It’s done,” he said, running a tired hand through his hair.
You shifted in your seat, heart thudding with anticipation.
“You’re making it sound like I should be scared,” you teased, though the slight tremble in your words told him part of you was nervous.
He shot you a lopsided grin, approaching you and sitting beside you on the couch. Strangely, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
“You don’t have to listen if you’re not ready," he explained, his tone laced with a sense of reluctance. "It’s...intimate.” The way his voice dipped sensually on the last word made your pulse quicken and you instantly shook your head.
“No, I want to hear it,” you declined his offer, your words uttered softly. "Play it, please."
He nodded, a faint smile present as he slid his headphones over your ears and pressed play on the monitor. The room went silent, save for the faint hum of the equipment. As the first notes filled your ears, everything else slowly faded away.
The song started softly; it was a deep, pulsing rhythm that felt like a heartbeat, layered with delicate chords that swept over you like a whisper. Then, beneath the music, you heard it.
You.
It was a faint gasp, so quiet it almost blended into the background vocals, followed by the softest of moans mixed into the melody. The sounds sent a rush of heat to your cheeks as your mind flashed back to that night, to Chan’s hands, his lips, and the way he had coaxed those very sounds from you.
Your breath caught as the track built, the sensual undertones unmistakable. Every layer of the song felt personal, your breaths and your voice intertwined with the raw intensity of Chan's production. It was not overtly explicit, but the sensuality was undeniable, a secret language only the two of you could speak woven into the music.
When the track ended, you pulled the headphones off and stared at him, your mouth slightly agape.
“Chan...” You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or throw the headphones at him. “That’s me.”
His lips twitched into a smirk, though his eyes searched yours for any sign of disapproval.
“It’s us,” he corrected. “I wanted it to feel sincere, like it replicated us to a tee.”
Your cheeks burned, contrasting the thrill that coursed through your veins. Chan scooted closer, leaning in front of you so his face was mere inches away from yours.
“You’re my muse,” he told you simply. “Every sound, every breath—it’s you. You inspire me.”
You shook your head, laughing softly.
“If people hear this-”
“They won’t know it’s you, if they even notice it's there,” he reassured, his voice gentle. “It’s subtle. Just for us.”
Your lips parted, still processing, but before you could say anything else, he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin.
"You don't hate it, do you?"
“Hate it?” you echoed, shaking your head on denial. “I could never hate anything you create. The song is absolutely beautiful. It’s just...”
“Just?”
“...Really hot,” you admitted, biting your lip.
A deep laugh rumbled from his chest, and he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because it’s the most personal thing I’ve ever made, and I want it to be for you as much as it is for me or for the fans.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
“Well,” you began, your voice dropping to a playful whisper, “if you ever need more inspiration..” Your voice trailed off as your fiddled with the chain of his necklace, your forehead still pressed gently against his. Chan grinned, his fingers tightening on your waist.
“Don’t tempt me, y/n.”
Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)
#stray kids#stray kids imagines#stray kids oneshots#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids smut#lee know#changbin#hyunjin#han#han jisung#felix#felix lee#seungmin#jeongin#bang chan#bang chan x reader#bang chan imagines#bang chan oneshots#bang chan smut#bang chan fluff
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Silence | Bang Chan
ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend Chan x Reader
ᑉ³genre; Angst , Smut
ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI ,dirty talk, swearing, Fingering, oral f reciving, begging
ᑉ³Authors Note; 1k event Commisson giveaway winner @chrizzztopherbang (sorry it took so long :((( )
The restaurant was bustling, filled with the chatter of people enjoying their Friday night.
But at your table, a tense silence hung in the air.
Your parents sat across from you, glancing at the door every few minutes, waiting for the man they’d heard so much about. But as the minutes ticked by, Chan’s absence became glaring
Your stomach churned with anxiety, but you kept a smile on your face, holding onto the thin hope that maybe he was just running late. He had to be coming—this was the night you were finally introducing him to your parents, the people who mattered most to you.
Your phone sat face-up on the table, dark and motionless. No missed calls. No texts.
Not even a simple message to say he wasn’t coming.
You checked your phone again, the light of the screen glaringly bright in the dim restaurant. Nothing. He hadn’t reached out. No explanation. No apology. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on your face.
Your mom glanced at her watch, then back at you with a sympathetic smile. “Honey, maybe he got caught up in traffic or something. We can wait a bit longer.”
Your dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as forgiving. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face a mask of thinly veiled frustration. “It’s been nearly an hour. If he can’t even make it to dinner with your parents, what does that say about him?”
You opened your mouth to defend him but stopped. You couldn’t deny that this wasn’t just an isolated event. Over the past few weeks, Chan had been slipping—forgetting dates, canceling plans last minute, or worse, just not showing up. But tonight, of all nights, was different. He knew how important this was to you. To both of you.
And he still wasn’t here.
It felt like a punch to the gut. You’d been nervous about tonight for weeks, planning every detail in your head. Your parents had flown in just for this. And Chan, the man you’d been dating for months, wasn’t even here
“Maybe something came up…” you offered weakly, though the words felt hollow, even to you.
Your dad sighed, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, a man who cares about you doesn’t let ‘something’ come up on a night like this. He makes time.”
The words stung because deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been making excuses for Chan for weeks, convincing yourself that his work, his schedule, was just overwhelming, and that it wasn’t personal. But this? This felt personal.
Your mom reached across the table, squeezing your hand gently. “We don’t have to stay, you know. We can reschedule, or…”
The thought of leaving without even hearing from him made your stomach drop. You wanted to brush it off, pretend like it didn’t matter, but it did. You wanted your parents to see the man you loved, to understand why you were so devoted to him. But right now, even you were struggling to remember that reason.
The waiter approached, a polite smile on his face. “Are we ready to order, or should I give you a few more minutes?”
You hesitated, glancing at the empty seat beside you, before shaking your head. “No, I think we’re ready.”
The rest of dinner was strained, your parents trying to keep up light conversation, but the tension in the air was undeniable. Every few minutes, your eyes drifted to your phone, but it remained painfully silent.
No word from Chan. No explanation.
By the time you made it back home, the weight of the evening settled heavily on your shoulders. Your parents had been kind—understanding, even—but their disappointment lingered. You could feel it in the hug your mom gave you before she left, the look your dad gave you as he told you to "think about what you deserve."
And he was right. You deserved better than this.
When you finally walked into your apartment, the quiet was suffocating. You dropped your bag on the couch, sitting down with a heavy sigh, staring at the blank screen of your phone once more. A million thoughts raced through your head—maybe something had happened, maybe there was a reason he couldn’t make it, maybe—
Your phone lit up, and your heart leapt for a split second. But it wasn’t Chan. It was a notification from some random app, and the disappointment hit you like a wave.
You leaned back against the couch, the realization sinking in. He hadn’t forgotten tonight. He’d just… not shown up. And the worst part was, he hadn’t even bothered to tell you.
There was no last-minute excuse, no frantic apology, no explanation. He had simply left you waiting.
You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of it all. But eventually, the front door opened, and Chan walked in, looking exhausted but casual, as if it were any other night. He saw you on the couch and smiled, dropping his keys onto the table.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. Long day at the studio,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t even look guilty.
You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “Late? You didn’t even come.”
Chan frowned, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m here now.”
“You didn’t come to dinner,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and sadness. “I waited for you. My parents waited for you.”
It was as if the weight of what you were saying finally hit him. His eyes widened, realization dawning. “Shit, wait—dinner. That was tonight?”
You stood up, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah, it was tonight. The dinner where you were supposed to meet my parents for the first time. The dinner we planned weeks ago. And you didn’t show up.”
His face paled, guilt creeping in, but it wasn’t enough. Not this time. You had waited, excused, and forgiven too many times before.
“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to—” Chan started, but you cut him off.
“No, Chan. You didn’t even tell me you weren’t coming. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You left me sitting there, waiting, with no idea where you were.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the one who waits.”
Chan’s expression crumbled as he stepped forward, but you took a step back. “Please, I’ll make it right. I swear—”
But you’d heard it all before. And this time, it wasn’t enough.
The silence that followed your words was thick, suffocating. Chan stared at you, his face twisted in guilt, but it wasn’t enough this time. Nothing he could say would make up for the way you felt tonight—alone, forgotten, like an afterthought.
"I said I’m sorry, okay?" His voice was low, almost pleading. But the apology felt like it was more for his own peace of mind than for you.
You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry? That’s all you have to say? You didn’t even care enough to send me a text, Chan! You didn’t care enough to let me know you weren’t coming to meet my parents!"
“I do care—” he started, but you cut him off, voice trembling with the frustration and hurt you’d been bottling up for weeks.
“Do you? Do you really? Because it feels like I’m the only one putting any effort into this relationship!” The words spilled out before you could stop them, years of unsaid feelings finally surfacing. “I’ve been bending over backwards for you, making excuses for you, and for what? For you to just forget about me over and over again?”
Chan’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with anger, but he kept his voice calm. “It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose. I’m trying to juggle everything—the studio, the group, the deadlines—it’s not easy.”
“Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty for that.” Your voice cracked, and you took a step toward him, fists clenched. “I’ve been patient. I’ve understood every time you’ve had to cancel plans, every time you’ve been late because of work. But this was important, Chan! You were supposed to meet my parents! You were supposed to be there for me for once!”
He flinched, as if your words physically hurt him, but he still tried to defend himself. “I know it was important, but I can’t always be everywhere at once. I’m doing my best, and sometimes things slip through the cracks.”
You stared at him, feeling a bitter mix of anger and heartbreak. “I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m slipping through the cracks in your life.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Chan’s face softened as he realized how deeply he had hurt you. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. You could see the guilt in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done.
You turned away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself, trying to hold in the tears that threatened to spill. “I need space, Chan. I need to think.”
“Wait,” he said, stepping forward, his voice desperate now. “Don’t shut me out. Please, we can talk about this.”
You shook your head, your voice cold and distant. “There’s nothing to talk about right now. I just… I need time.”
Without another word, you walked past him, retreating into your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room, guilt and frustration etched across his face.
The next few days were a blur of silence. You avoided Chan’s calls, ignored his texts, and when you saw him, you barely acknowledged his presence. The silent treatment weighed heavily on both of you, but you weren’t ready to face him. Not yet. The sting of being let down, again and again, was too fresh.
At first, Chan tried to give you space, respecting your need for time to process. But as the days went on, he began to grow more desperate. The messages started coming more frequently—apologies, explanations, everything he could think of to get through to you. But you remained silent.
One night, you were sitting in your living room, laying on the couch and scrolling through your phone aimlessly, when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t respond, hoping he’d go away, but then the door opened slowly, and Chan stepped inside.
He looked exhausted, his usual confidence replaced by an unmistakable vulnerability. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before finally sitting down at the edge of your bed.
“I know you’re mad,” he started, his voice low and hesitant. “And you have every right to be.”
You didn’t say anything, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. But the tension in the room was thick, and you could feel him watching you, waiting for some kind of response.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up. I know I did. And I can’t stand that I hurt you like this. I’ve been trying to fix it, but I don’t even know where to start anymore.”
Still, you said nothing, but your heart ached at the sadness in his voice. You wanted to forgive him, to let it go, but a part of you needed him to understand just how deeply his actions had hurt you.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you don’t matter. Because you do. You’re the most important person in my life, and I hate that I’ve made you feel otherwise.”
You glanced up at him, and the sight of him—his eyes red, his face etched with regret—made something inside you soften. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you said quietly, finally breaking your silence. “I can’t keep waiting for you to show up, wondering if I’m ever going to be enough to make you prioritize me.”
Chan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “You are enough. You’re more than enough. I’ve just been so caught up in everything that I lost sight of what’s really important.”
He reached out, taking your hand gently, and for the first time in days, you didn’t pull away.
“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I’ve let you down more times than I can count, but I’m begging you… please don’t give up on us.”
Tears stung your eyes as you looked at him, the vulnerability in his expression breaking down the last of your defenses. You could see how much he meant every word, how deeply he regretted the pain he’d caused you.
“I don’t want to give up on us either,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But something has to change, Chan. I need to know that I can rely on you, that I matter.”
“You do,” he said quickly, his grip on your hand tightening. “I swear, things will be different. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be better. For you. For us.”
Before you could respond, Chan sank to his knees in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. “Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve let you down. I know I’ve been a mess. But I’m begging you, please don’t give up on us. I need you. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance.”
You stared at him, shocked by his sudden desperation. The image of him on his knees, pleading with you, was almost too much to bear. The hurt was still fresh, and though his words and actions were sincere, you struggled with the weight of what he’d done.
You looked down at Chan, kneeling before you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. His plea hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises and fear. You could see how much he wanted to make things right, but the pain and disappointment you felt were still raw and unsettling.
“I don’t know, Chan,” you said finally, your voice wavering. “I want to believe that things will be different, but I’m not sure if I can just forgive and forget. You’ve let me down so many times. How can I be sure this time will be any different?”
Chan’s face fell, and he lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping. “I understand if you’re not ready to forgive me. I really do. But please, just give me a chance to prove it to you. I know I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry. I’ll work every day to show you that I’m worth your trust.”
Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and earnest. You wanted to believe him, wanted to reach out and pull him up from his knees, but the scars of past disappointments were still fresh. You needed to see more than words. You needed to know that the change he promised was real and lasting.
Before you could voice your doubts, Chan moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze was disarming, and you felt your resolve waver as he closed the distance between you. He reached out gently, cupping your face with his hands, his touch warm and tender.
As he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, you felt a surge of emotion that you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to push him away, to maintain your boundaries, but the vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes made it hard to resist. When his lips brushed against yours, it was soft and hesitant, a plea for forgiveness more profound than words could convey.
You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with conflicting thoughts, but then you found yourself responding, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both passionate and desperate. The connection was electric, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it felt like the world outside ceased to exist.
Chan’s kiss deepened, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he seemed to pour all his remorse and longing into that single, heartfelt kiss. It was as if he was trying to erase the distance that had grown between you, to bridge the gap left by all the unfulfilled promises.
You leaned back, pulling him with you, your body arching into his touch as his hands trailed over your skin. The sensation was intoxicating, and you found yourself lost in the moment, all rational thought fading away. You needed this, needed him.
His hands continued to trail, and one made its way to your clothed heat.
Your breath hitched as you felt him rub you through the fabric, a delicious friction building.
"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper.
"I need you, Y/N," he mumbled, his lips grazing your neck.
The battle raged on around you. Your body ached for him, for his touch, his kisses. As his fingers slipped underneath your panties, the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt your resolve crumble.
You wanted him, needed him, despite all the hurt and disappointment he had caused. In that moment, none of it mattered. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel.
Chan's eyes were dark with lust as his fingers slipped between your wet folds, the pressure of his thumb on your clit making your breath catch in your throat.
"God, Y/N, you're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky. " I missed this.."
As he continued his teasing, you could feel yourself giving in, the pleasure clouding your judgment. Your hips rocked against his hand, seeking more, and a moan escaped your lips as he slid a finger inside of you.
"You like that?" he whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear.
"Yes," you breathed out, your voice shaky.
The feeling of his fingers inside you, curling up just the way you liked, was almost too much to bear. His palm pressed against your clit, the heat and pressure driving you wild, his other hand beginning to slip your clothes off.
Your mind raced, conflicting thoughts tugging at you. Part of you wanted to stop this, to keep your walls up and protect yourself. But another part of you needed this, needed him, more than anything.
"I want to taste you.... To apologize with my tounge in places my words couldnt reach," he whispered against your ear
Chan's voice was thick with desire, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked at you. Your mind was spinning, but all you could focus on was how good it felt.
As he sank to his deeper into his knees in front of you, his face inches from your heat, you knew there was no going back. His breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in, and the feeling of his tongue against your folds was enough to make you moan.
Chan was relentless, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your most intimate parts was intoxicating, and you could feel the pleasure building inside of you, a delicious heat spreading through your body.
"Fuck, Y/N," he murmured, his voice muffled against you. "You taste so good."
His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a moan as he teased your entrance with his tongue.
"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice shaky.
You could feel the pressure building inside of you, your muscles tensing as his tongue lapped at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you.
The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself losing control. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and you dug your fingers into his hair, holding him against you.
"Don't stop," you gasped, the words spilling from your lips without a thought.
You were teetering on the edge, your body aching for release but he wasnt gonna let it end there.
He was apologizing right?
You could feel it coming, the sweet relief just out of reach. You needed more, needed him deeper.
"Please," you moaned, the sound desperate and needy.
Chan responded immediately, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue swirling around your clit. He was relentless, his pace increasing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
Your muscles tightened, and the pressure inside you was almost too much to bear.
Then, suddenly, everything went white. You cried out, your body shuddering as the orgasm crashed through you. Your vision blurred, and all you could feel was the intense, pulsing pleasure coursing through your veins.
As you came down from the high, your breath ragged and your heart racing, you could feel the tension in the room.
But that wasnt the end for Chan
He continued to eat you out, wanting to give you another one.
You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, but Chan's hands held you in place, his tongue tracing patterns across your clit. The sensations were too much, and you could feel yourself quickly building toward another release.
"C-Chan," you whimpered, your voice shaky.
"Let go, baby," he whispered, his words sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. "Come for me again."
As his fingers curled inside you, and as he found that perfect spot, you knew you were done for. Your muscles tensed, and the pressure inside you threatened to burst.
"P-Please" You say without thinking, the pleasure taking over any rational thoughts.
"Oh no, no... this is my apology to you, baby. Im going to make you cum until i'm forgiven"
And then, with one final, torturous swipe of his tongue, you were gone.
Over and Over and Over again, until you could no longer remember why you were even mad at him in the first place.
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≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔
╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni
tags : pwp (without plot), dom!xavier (and a very sub!reader), slight power dynamics, nothing too extreme but xavier is a little mean here, slight themes of possession and jealousy (ft. jeremiah mention like... once), sensory play (blindfold), light bondage, biting, marking, teasing, orgasm denial, begging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, heavy petting, nipple play, clit play, fingering, rough sex, vaginal sex (unprotected), creampie, dirty talk, praise, use of pet name "angel". lmk if i missed any tags! ((unedited!))
wc : 4.1k (...yeah... of pure filth actually...)
an : as usual, very self-indulgent on the part of yours truly !! inspired by "red lights" (and yes, as always, listening to the song adds to the vibes) and our very beloved "no restraint" trailer, but it doesn't actually reference the pv so this is entirely separate <3
taglist : @spotted-salamander @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valvinny @rafayelsheart @star-anons-blog @hunters-association (SIGN UP HERE)
"Focus on me, angel."
Quiet words against your skin.
Your chest heaved, breathing heavy, wrists bound tightly together against the bedpost—his fingers grazed over your cheek in that moment, and the touch was familiar. It was soothing, almost. Like a soft caress that the two of you would often share together, it had your head tilting towards him, leaning into his touch as much as you could help it.
He had you right where he wanted you.
You had no choice but to focus on him.
Just... not in the way that you would have expected to.
Your wrists tugged slightly at the ribbons that restricted you, a small whimper falling from your lips.
You couldn't see.
Every touch against your skin had you jolting, every trail of his fingers on your jawline, down your neck, over your shoulders... All of it felt so heightened. Your vision was shrouded in darkness. The silk that covered your eyes was bound tightly, not a semblance of light could have creeped in from the room that had already been dim from the start. He had you lost in a swirl of the unknown.
And it had been this way for hours on end.
His fingers pulled out of your cunt with a wet schlick, your body writhing as you let out yet another cry.
But he wasn't listening to you.
Instead, he sighed.
"I said," he murmured—and you flinched at the sudden feeling of his breath against the shell of your ear—"focus on me."
His voice dropped an octave lower as he completed his statement, and it was unfair.
"I-I am!" you protested. "It's too much, Xavier, I-I can't... I can't keep holding it, please I just—!"
"Shhh."
The mattress shifted beneath you. His warm hands slid across your bare skin, his body warm next to yours—slow, intentional, precise movements, thumbs digging into your flesh in what could have been considered a sort of massage. It was enough to ease you out of the orgasm you'd almost had, the coil in your stomach loosening as you felt every beat and every flutter of your pussy so wantonly.
And then you felt his head dip down.
In an instant, his lips attached to your neck—
"I know, angel, I know. I have you. Just focus on how it feels."
But you were feeling too much.
Too much, all at once, for all this time, and yet—
It was so hard to resist him.
He knew that.
And it was nearly by instinct how your head tilted, allowing him more access, allowing yourself to feel the way his lips would curl into a little, self-satisfied smile. You didn't need to see him to know it was there; you didn't need to see him to know how it looked like. You knew him well enough.
And you were melting at it.
Gradually he began to explore the rest of your body with featherlight touches, as if to soothe the way he'd been edging you endlessly over the past several minutes. He ghosted over your skin with the tips of his fingers, enough to have goosebumps prickling in their wake; his hands moved up to cup your breasts, inching closer to where he knew you needed him most, but still—only barely touching.
And then you barely had a chance to react, before his teeth sunk into the nape of your neck. The sudden action, a sensation intensified by having your sight so cruelly taken away from you, had you arching your back with a moan.
In the next second his thumbs rubbed over your nipples as he suckled at your skin to leave an array of bruises, a deep chuckle reverberating against you. Slow, rhythmic circles, lithe fingers taking your nub and finding pride in the way they would stiffen and peak under his touch...
You knew that he was watching you.
You knew that he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
And you knew why he was being like this. Relentless teasing, always enough to bring you to the precipice but never allowing you to topple over it... Now, he was taking it slow again, but you were sensitive enough to be reacting to everything.
"Xavier...." you whimpered. Slowly, his hand trailed down over your stomach to rest over your thigh.
"Yes?" he murmured.
A shiver went down your spine at the raspiness in his voice.
"You want me here again?"
He spread your legs without waiting for you to answer, a finger trailing upwards and nearly excruciatingly close—only to trace gentle, feathery shapes into your inner thigh.
You groaned.
"Xavier.... Please! Please just touch me—"
"But I am touching you."
You knew that he was smiling.
"Not like that! Do it... Don't do it so gently! Don't tease me! Stop playing with me!"
He hummed, and his hand inched even closer. You could feel the heat radiating off of the mere proximity, your walls clenching around virtually nothing, your breath hitching with anticipation.
But it never came.
"...I don't know."
You were nearly appalled at how genuinely nonchalant he sounded.
"You know what you've been doing to me all day. Teasing me like that... then giving all that attention to Jeremiah when you should have been looking at me."
"I-I didn't mean to! You know he's only just a friend, you know that I—nngh—!"
He leaned in to pull at your earlobe, taking it between his teeth before letting out a soft laugh at the way your body seemed to squirm in response.
"But... That doesn't change anything. Next time don't talk to him like that when you're wearing such a short skirt." A soft blow against your ear, and he made it clear that he was enjoying the goosebumps that littered over your skin as a result. "Besides... I thought you were too sensitive, since you've been reacting to everything so much. Now, you want... more? You're so greedy..."
You could nearly cry.
You felt his other hand squeeze at your breast to make a point, and you felt him shift ever so slightly—
"You're all sloppy, angel. You've made such a mess. I can see it, how wet you are..."
A pause.
"...Mm. You want me to touch you there, right? Feel my fingers inside you again? You must be really warm, still..."
Again your wrists tugged at your restraints, your eyes squeezed tightly shut against the blindfold. Your heart beat so loudly in your chest that you couldn't dream to listen over it for his movements—his words felt so simultaneously innocent as they were dirty, and the calm in his voice did nothing to soften its effects.
You couldn't take it anymore.
"Xavier, please!" you begged. And whether intentional or not, you found yourself lifting your hips, pushing against him. It was enough for you to feel the slightest graze of his fingers against your cunt, nearly driving you insane with the way he curled his hand into a fist and have you coat his knuckles in your juices.
Then he let out a hum, and you knew what that meant.
He was watching you.
And he was fascinated.
"Do you like that?" he questioned aloud, and it almost pained you how full of wonder his voice seemed to be. "You really are so sensitive."
Your next moans were swallowed into a kiss as his hand remained placed between your legs, stationary at the perfect distance for you to grind against him. The other continued to knead at your breasts, occasionally pausing to roam over your skin, and he murmured—
"Pretty. You're so pretty when you're needy like this."
You couldn't see him, but you could have sworn that the smirk that was likely on his face was anything but innocent.
Yet, his hands drew away from you, and he laughed.
"Xavier!" you cried out. Your hips lifted, as if to chase that same sensation, your clit throbbing with a need that could have had you thrashing around had you not been tied into place.
"Shhhhh, shhh. Relax... Just relax."
A kiss over your blindfold, this time, had you placated enough to swallow your pleas into what felt to be a choked stob. His lips traced over your eyelids, to the tip of your nose, to your lips once more. And then his kisses began to trail further south. Down your neck, through the valley of your breasts, over the skin of your stomach and past your navel—
Only to stop.
And then he began, again, to kiss upwards.
By the time he'd reached your lips once more, your breath was shaky and erratic, the corners of his mouth turned up in another smile you knew to be one of satisfaction.
Now, the scent of his shampoo, the scent of his skin was heedy in the air, mixing in with your own arousal. The room smelled of lust and desire, and these were the only other grounding sensory details you could latch onto as your head continued to spin. Because he truly, truly had you under his complete control. He could have you bending and writhing under his touch without a second thought, the reins of your pleasure embedded into his every being.
"Xavier.... Xavier, please," you cried. You'd lost count of the number of times his name had fallen from your lips out of sheer desperation. "Please, I'm so empty! I need... I need you, I need something—"
A sharp gasp fell from your lips, effectively cutting you off.
"Something, like... This?"
A single breathless whisper against your ear, before you felt him prod at your entrance and slid slowly, slowly back inside you.
"So, so warm."
His voice was a soothing lull, almost an irony to the way that he was treating you.
All the while, wet noises followed every movement of his fingers as he fucked you slowly—gathering your creamy slick when he pulled out, only to plunge right in with a little hum of wonder that had you keening. Easily, he had your hips bucking into his palm. Your back arched; it was an instinctive reaction to follow the movements of his hand as if you were merely a puppet of his desires—every pump of his finger had you moaning unabashedly, only a slave to the lust that he'd awakened in you.
And with the silk around your eyes still fastened in its place, the darkness surrounding your vision made even the tiniest things feel all the more pleasurable.
You could feel how long and slender his fingers were, reaching so deep inside of you, curling against your sweet spot. You could feel the stretch of your pussy with the scissor of his fingers, a stretch so delicious that the burn of it went straight to your head to have your eyes rolling back.
And it felt so good.
...But as always, he would be so. Excruciatingly. Deliberate.
His ministrations brought you a pleasure so indescribable, yet it wasn't quite enough.
You knew what he was doing. He would bring you back into a patten you'd become familiar with: you would be speared on his fingers relentlessly, at a pace so frustratingly lacking, creaming over his fingers without quite bringing you over the edge.
"Xavier!"
Yet another choked sob to fall from your lips. More tears pricked at your eyes, too, though he would have likely been unaware given the fabric concealing that was concealing them. "Please... Please, faster! Please... I need to cum!"
It was like a trigger.
Immediately at your words, his thumb brushed lightly over your clit before he pulled away, and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, angel... I don't want to let you."
The sudden momentary stimulation against your clit had your vision going hazy. You thrashed around desperately as another cry tore fron your lungs, your legs squeezing together tightly— the throbbing in your cunt was becoming absolutely unbearable.
You were so close.
You were so close.
It was slipping away.
"No!" you cried. "Nngh, no, no, please! Please, Xavier! I've been so good for you! Please, please, you have to—I have to—"
This time his other hand moved to tangle into your hair, and he placed another chaste kiss over your lips.
"But... Have you been good? When you've teased me all day? You know... Just now, you've also been begging nonstop, even if I keep telling you not to. I don't know if I should be calling you good."
A pause, and a whimper on your end.
"...But you're pretty. I can give you that."
Another kiss, and another, and another, as your orgasm slowly faded away and you were rendered a panting mess beneath him.
But he wasn't done.
Tears were streaming down your cheeks when he opened you up again, fingers delicately tracing your folds, the stimulation enough to make you jump. This time, you didn't have to say anything before his fingers were back inside you, fucking your cunt, squelching noises resounding in the room with how he would plug your hole full with every thrust.
It was humiliating, almost.
All you could do was focus—on the sensation, on the sound, on the way he would whisper soft, loving words into your ears as if he weren't completely ruining you for him in this moment.
"So wet n'messy..."
Your walls fluttered around him, clenching on his fingers—
He clicked his tongue.
"Ah-ah, angel... Again? So soon?"
You heard him sigh as his fingers slipped away from you once more, and your entire body jerked with desperation.
"Xavier!!!" Your chest felt suffocating, sobs of his name falling from your lips. "Xavier! Xavier, why! Why do you keep—Why won't you let me finish!! Xavier, please!!!"
Your wrists felt numb with pain as you struggled against your restraints, and you knew that your face was wet with tears. The blindfold was drenched; you could only keep your eyes squeezed shut, sniffling helplessly.
It was gone again.
You ached; your breathing wild and heavy. You didn't know what to do. He had you utterly ruined.
"You know why, angel. Should I do it again until you understand?" he whispered. His lips fluttered against yours, teasing a kiss.
He wouldn't even give that to you anymore.
"No!" you sobbed. "No more... Xavier, no more! Please... Please, please just make me cum! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I—I won't do it again—"
His fingers glided over your lips this time, and it was almost pathetic how easily your mouth opened in response. The tangy taste of your slick was unmistakable. He slid his fingers into your mouth for you to taste more.
This way, you couldn't speak properly.
There would be no other way to convey your desire, if not to thrash around and have him watch.
Another hum. "I think... Not."
And he would keep doing it.
Your cunt was red and swollen to the point of overstimulation. Your vision blurred; your head felt fuzzy. You were tired.
Every touch, even the slightest brush against your skin—against your clit—had you gasping. You were too hyperaware of everything he was doing. Worse, again, was the fact that you couldn't know of what else he would do to you—couldn't anticipate it.
Another tap against your nub, a pressure enough to flick it slightly, before snaking your hand up your waist to soothe you with another gentle caress.
You were sobbing.
"Mean!" you weeped, "You're so mean, Xavier! So cruel! I can't—I can't anymore! You have to make me cum... You have to!"
It hurt.
It stung.
And you felt him sigh, so used to your pleas at this moment that you wondered if he had gotten so desensitized to them by now.
"So I'm harsh, and cruel?" There was a teasing lilt to the calm of his voice this time, and you choked out a gasp as you felt the tip of his cock press tip against you.
He shifted, and the blindfold was slipped off of your face. Wet with your tears, he discarded the cloth carelessly around his room, and finally, finally, you were able to see him.
The room was dim, but the blue in his eyes remained striking—always an ocean you could drown in, willingly.
Only tonight, that wasn't what he wanted from you.
His hand found its way to your chin, and he tilted it downwards. Just a little, you felt—saw—the tip of his cock press into you.
"Do you want this?" he murmured. He kept your gaze in place, pressing in a little deeper still. But you were aware at how his gaze never strayed away from you. Observing. Attentive. "You feel empty, right, angel? You want me inside you? Maybe I've been too mean to you... I'm sorry... Next time, you shouldn't tease me too much..."
You let out a slow breath.
"Please."
Your voice was shaky.
And he leaned in, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze again before his lips met your cheek. In a flutter of movements he kissed your tears away, hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Watch," he said.
His voice was soft, but it was something like a command.
"Watch. And no take-backs."
You didn't have time to react, then.
Once more your gaze was directed towards your pussy, throbbing with a need for attention—and your eyes went wide.
He thrust inside you without a second of warning. The entrance was sudden—unexpected. Filling. Any words you'd been thinking to speak fell immediately to a shocked silence, your mouth falling open in a noiseless moan. And all at once, you were made entirely aware of the stretch of your walls, the length of his cock a slow, frustrating slide until the numbnessmelted away enough for you to feel full.
His weight shifted.
You felt caged between his arms, his breath hitting directly above you, legs slotted between yours. There was space for you to wrap your legs around his waist, and you did—
And he started off slow.
Low grunts as his hips rolled against yours, a thrust so fluid and deep that your figure pressed deeper into the mattress. You groaned in response when he repeated the motions; pulling out only to thrust all the way back in, the slap of his skin against yours a testament.
"Not empty..." he rasped. "Not empty 'nymore. I'm filling you up... So warm and pretty for me, all for me..."
His words made your head spin, but despite the desperation laced into his tone, he refused to pick up the pace. You whined, your hips raising to meet his thrusts as if trying to coax a faster pace, but he didn't listen. Instead, he clicked his tongue—with a mewl on your end, he pinned your hips to the bed, preventing you from moving.
"Xavier!" you protested immediately, feeble attempts to wrestle free from him.
"No."
A harsher tone, as he grinded against you to elicit another choked sob.
"But whyyy! I thought you—you said you—"
You threw your head back at a particularly deep thrust, and again his hand was back on your chin.
"I'll set the pace. Don't move, angel. Or I'll pull out."
Xavier usually wasn't like this.
You couldn't quite tell if he was enjoying your torture, or if he was simply this upset over everything that had happened, but the ache you had all over your body right down to the throbbing of your cunt was too, too much for you to bear.
The way his hair fell over his face, his eyes narrowed, eyebrow arched almost menacingly—it brought tears to your eyes once more, and all you wanted to hear from him was another word of reassurance.
For a moment, his eyes softened.
"Don't cry... Don't cry anymore..." He leaned in to nuzzle against your nose, before pressing his lips to yours in a light, gentle kiss. "What do you want, angel? You want me to go harder?"
Feebly, you nodded. At a sharp thrust of his hips, you drew in a sharp breath.
"Like that?"
Another nod.
And this time, he smiled—and it was genuine.
"Okay. Then stay still and let me. You can do that for me, right, angel?"
His hips began to move again, and you were relieved to feel the slight reprieve he was granting you by slowly picking up the pace. Yet again your gaze found the outline of your cunt, zeroing in almost immediately on the way his cock sunk into you and disappeared eagerly into your dripping folds.
He was right.
You were an absolute mess, if the sloppy sounds of sex weren't enough to prove it. The sheets were stained so clearly with your arousal, and the truth was that you didn't quite need him to be rougher with you. Just the mere sensation of being filled up, the friction of his shaft against your gummy walls, was enough to have you arching your back to meet his thrusts.
"Close!" you cried out, desperately rutting against him. "M'close, Xavi, please, please— Let me...!" You saw the smirk on his face, the way his eyes narrowed. Part of you had to wonder if he would pull away again—
But he didn't.
Instead, his hips moved faster, drilling into you in a pace so relentless that your eyes grew wide with shock.
In fact, he didn't stop at all.
He'd haphazardly reached out to yank you free from your bounds, but when you finally reached your peak, it was a crash that had you reeling. A scream of his name and curling of your toes were barely enough to describe it—your vision had gone white, your body fixed into a tremble that almost seemed not to stop. It didn't matter that you had just spilled onto his length, clenching around him with every loud cry that tore from your chest. You were raw, and sore, and used—but that was no longer any of his concern.
He kept his thrusts up.
He would drive you into the mattress, every movement made to slam his hips into yours harder, faster, skin slapping against skin so loudly that the sound of it near-challenged the unintelligible moans that spilled from your lips.
It was torture.
Yet it was so good.
"Ye- es!" you cried out. "Yes, ye—aaanh— y-yes—! Like that! Like tha—hnn—! Xavi— Xavier—!"
You couldn't help but have your eyes roll back into your head, allowing him to grip your waist and steady himself, giving himself the leverage to fuck into you deeper, to stretch you out so deliciously good. He kept your thighs spread apart, nails digging into your skin—and you were so sensitive. Over, and over... he would ram his cock into you and have you filled to the brim with him, never once giving you a second of rest.
And it was everything to watch him lose control just as easily because of that.
"Yeah... Yeah? Like this, angel? Mmh... Taking me so... s-so—hnng— so well, angel, l-look at you..."
Gasps and groans fell uncontrolled from his lips, a mixture between deep rumbles and a more high-pitched whine when you clenched around him just right.
"More... more," he shuddered. "Can't... can't stop, angel, you're so good, I need—need you—No one, haah, no one gets to fuck you like this, all pretty for me to use—"
Clumps of hair stuck to his forehead, skin sheen with sweat. His eyes held a haze of desire you could only ever see from him when he got like this, and it was all barely enough to keep your sanity from tipping over.
You were withering.
His hand moved down to rub against your clit, and the intensity of all of it had your vision going completely blank.
You could barely register anything anymore.
He would pull orgasm after orgasm out from you and you would lose count of it, only vaguely registering the hot stream of white that dripped out of you with how full you were.
"Xavier..."
Your voice was weak and raspy, your hands wrapping around him to pull him into you, against you—anything.
And he groaned against your neck.
"Angel.... one more, please, just— One more. You can give me 'nother. I know you can. Just, nngh—let me fill you up one more time... Gotta mark you all mi— mine— mine—"
He clamored to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Immediately you clawed at his back, a strangled cry of his name leaving your mouth... and he caved.
Yet you knew that this was far from over.
"Mmmhfffuck—! S-so tight, so—ah—!"
The last thing you registered was the desperate shut of his eyes, the near-frozen parting of his lips, and the string of curses formulated into his own moan of raw, unfiltered pleasure.
He was just as long gone as you were.
"Oh, angel... M'not— Not done with you yet at all..."
⁺₊ / an: guys i literally cannot stop thinking about him
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#(queued btw by the time this posts i am Sleeping zzz <3)#love and deepspace smut#lnds smut#lads smut#l&ds smut#love & deepspace smut#love & deepspace x reader#love and deepspace x reader#lnds x reader#lads x reader#l&ds x reader#xavier#lnds xavier#lads xavier#l&ds xavier#love and deepspace xavier#love & deepspace xavier#xavier x reader#xavier x you#xavier smut#divider by saradika#ʚɞ*.゚. lnds#✿˖°. roxiefic#Spotify
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This is How It Feels
Bang Chan Soft Thought
WC - 675 ✧ Masterlist ✧
a/n - This was typed based off of an overwhelming feeling I got while listening to This is How It Feels by d4vd and Laufey so I'm sorry if it's kinda messy. Hope you enjoy!
Chan has been dreaming of you again.
He has for a while. He's found that it gets more painful with the frequency of frames that pass his still lids in the night.
He can only describe it as an act of masochism. The epitome of pleasure and pain intertwining to create what we've all come to know as love. But Chan didn't always love you, not like this. He was able to keep you in a lighter gaze. He was able to separate you from his desires until you became the center of them all.
It was 3:30 am when he first noticed it. He was on the phone with you, something that the two of you do when he can't sleep. You had passed out an hour ago but he stayed on the call. He listened to the soft sound of your breathing and memorized the pattern of your snores.
You groaned and turned in your sleep and he heard it all. For a second, he held his arms open for you to slot between them. He held himself open to embrace your absent figure before he could even realize it.
Chan stood awake that night. Staring at the ceiling with the sweet sounds of you creating storms in his busy mind. You've unearthed something new in him. His heart turned and he found something underneath.
He found love.
He was content on dry drowning through his emotions after that night. He was okay with taking the bare minimum from your soft and generous hands just to imagine that it could be more one day.
It took another night of listening to you sigh and snore through the night for him to realize that this is just a pain he'll have to deal with. Confessing is not an option in his busy mind. It would be the introduction to the end, and that would kill him. Though, he is sure that you’ll be the death of him either way.
Chan convinced himself that he's content with these phone calls. The act of falling into a deep peace beside you felt natural for him. It felt right.
When 3:30 am snuck up on him during this call he sighed as the whirlwind picked up in his chest.
The thoughts
The desires
The pain
The love
It all belongs to you, and you'll never know it.
The warm and erratic fluttering against a rib cage too small to contain the swelling of his heart has become a familiar sensation on nights like these. The shadow of swirling rose colored smoke that he's been desperate to pass to you is something that he'll have to inhale by himself.
You. This atmosphere that the two of you have created. This connection that vibrates strong through time and space has metamorphosed him in the dark hours of the night like magic.
And suddenly, he feels it spilling over. Bubbling tall and staining the fabric of his sanity.
"You always fall asleep first..." Chan whispers into the receiver as he turns to face his phone. To face you. "I'm jealous."
He chuckles, closing his eyes as the whirling in his chest gets lighter with each word he speaks.
"I wish I could join you... or maybe you join me. I wish you were.. here. I wish you were here." He's whispering, his heart pounding loud in his ears. Parts of him dissolve in the quiet night, he wishes you were here to fill in the gaps.
"While you're sleeping I'm falling in love." He smiles to himself. "I never knew that this is how it would feel to fall for you."
He sighs, laying on his back now. He stares at the ceiling, imagining constellations that should have your name.
"It's hopeless." Chan looks back over to his phone. Your soft breathing has slowed. It's quiet, and for a second, he convinces himself that he doesn't care if you hear him. He takes a leap of faith and says it. Simple and soft.
"I love you so much."
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You Live Like This?
images are mine (except middle chan pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. Chan's ATE pcs are my inspo this time.
Series master list PART 2 INFO
pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes, one shot summary: home invader!Chris breaks into your home one night to rob you blind, only to realize you’re too poor to rob.
warnings: knives, threatening behavior, mention of rape (nothing in actuality), mention of murder (nothing in actuality), light violence (no harm), swearing, mentions of Carry-On (Netflix), mentions of cheating, fear, terrified but exhausted reader, attempted kiss (no force), satirical plotline. chan fluff.
word count: 5k
Your fingers are curled around the handle of the pot on the stove when you hear it. The slightest click, the faintest ruffle of air. It’s a familiar sound, the gentle push of your front door closing when you’re trying to be quiet.
You freeze, heart pounding, and try to mentally walk yourself back through the past couple of hours. You’d come home from work, still reeling from the latest verbal onslaught from your (former) boss, and kicked the door shut behind you. Had it closed? Had it latched?
It hadn’t.
It must not have.
One of the dogs must have just pushed it closed.
You push the pot off the burner and turn the stove off, smoothing your hands down the front of your sweats. Baited breath, shoulders tensed, you cross the kitchen and poke your head into the entryway, peering through the shadows. You have every light in the chilly house off except for the kitchen, because you’re finally settling down to watch a long awaited film, and you like to set the scene with a dark house.
But that means your entryway is pitch black, and to your slowly adjusting eyes, the coatrack looks like a person’s silhouette.
Before you can convince yourself otherwise, your hand snaps out and hits the light switch.
Flickering yellow light floods the small hall, revealing nothing but your coatrack, the tiny side table that bears the weight of your house keys and the mail, and your kicked off work heels, still laying messily on the inside rug.
Your eyes flick to the other doorway in the hall, the one leading to your living room, but it’s still dark and quiet, so you flick the lights back off.
Dinner is a painfully cheap meal of instant ramen with an egg cracked on top and half a sausage chopped up into the noodles. You don’t bother plating it, rather setting the sauce pan that it cooked in onto a large oven mitt on the table, right next to that damn cardboard filing box.
Retrieving a pair of chopsticks, you settle into your chair and stir the noodles through the eggy broth, unable to stop the heavy sigh the swirls steam directly into your face. Cheap ramen is going to make many appearances in the next couple of months.
It’s not the heat or the spice that brings tears to your eyes as you fight down a mouthful, but rather the weight of your last few days. And, to top it all off, the email from the real estate office that you found waiting for you when you got home a few hours ago, haphazardly dropping the final straw on the proverbial camel’s back.
There’s a thump from your living room, and then the rattle of your dog’s favorite bell toy rolling across the floor.
You grab a napkin and dab your lips, reaching for your bottled water. “Mira,” Your voice fills the empty house. Your oldest dog, thirteen, likes to use the obnoxious rattling of that toy to inform you that you’ve forgotten her dinner time. “Bring it here, Mira.”
The next series of noises makes your heart stop.
The sound of both of your dogs jumping off your bed upstairs, and the absolute elephant stampede of them skittering down the stairs.
Your eyes slide to the dark living room doorway, mind racing as Mira and Pip come skating across the kitchen floor, both trembling excitedly at the prospect of dinner.
You’re out of your chair in a second, ramen forgotten, tripping over both dogs in your lurch for the living room. Your hand reaches through the doorway and slaps the light switch, illuminating the room. Your tv is on, paused where you left it at the opening title of the movie you’re about to watch, but your eyes are pinned to the furniture—the couch and recliner, which both face away from you.
Mira and Pip are swarming around your legs, unbothered by whatever has captured your attention, their wet noses bumping your hips and hands. They want food, and they’re not impressed by how distracted you are, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they’re confiscating the rest of your ramen.
A rush of confidence hits you out of nowhere and you surge into the living room, turning to face down the furniture.
Both empty.
The dog toy is on the floor under the coffee table, innocently silent.
It’s close enough under the lip of the table that you realize it must have been teetering on the edge and finally fallen off just in time to mess with your head.
The breath you let out is loud enough to stir the dogs up again, and Pip snags the hem of your sweater playfully.
“Alright, alright.” Your fright is forgotten as you lead your girls into the laundry room, lowering your voice to try to calm their steadily rising excitement. “Here’s your food, quit your nagging.” You ruffle their ears affectionately and step out, closing them into the laundry room to eat.
They don’t steal from each other, but Pip likes to run between the laundry room and the living room between bites, zooming down the hall and bouncing off the couch, too hyper to chill and eat unless you lock her into the room.
You return to your half-eaten ramen and realize that you’re not hungry.
A second passes as you contemplate dumping the rest of it into the trash, but you decide against it. God knows if you’re going to be able to manage dinners like this in the coming weeks, and you can’t bring yourself to waste the food you have.
But just as you’re sitting down, you hear a creak.
You know that creak.
You know your house.
It’s the fourth step of your staircase, the creak that sounds when you put your weight on the left edge.
The chopsticks fall out of your hand. “Hello?” Your voice booms before you’ve realized you’ve released it, and your eyes skate your countertops. There’s an immersion blender in it’s stand next to your toaster, and it’s heavier than the bamboo spoon that sits next to it, so you grab the handheld appliance.
“Hello?” You don’t really mean to say it again, but you can’t think of anything else to say. What, like a murderer is going to respond? Like they’re going to say, ‘it’s just me, looking for a place to hide in your bedroom!’
You flip every light switch that you pass between your kitchen and the stairs, the cold plastic of the blender pressing painfully into the bones of your hand. You’re holding it so tight that it’s trembling.
There’s no one on the stairs.
As you make your way up, you experimentally put your food to the left edge of the fourth step. Maybe you’d heard wrong. Maybe your brain was messing with you. But as you sink your weight down, that same old creak groans from the wood like it’s mocking you.
Heart hammering, plummeting to the rock bottom of your stomach, you bolt up the rest of the stairs. If someone’s in your house, you’re not just going to give them time to hide by creeping slowly up your own staircase.
Your entire house illuminates in your wake, until there’s not a single shadow left. You poke your head into every room—your room, the guest room, the bathrooms, even the linen closet.
There’s no one.
You lower your battle blender and sag against the wall in relief.
It’s the stress. Burning the candle at both ends for the past week and unsuccessfully attempting to roll with the numerous unprovoked punches has got your brain all strung out and playing tricks on you.
One by one, the lights in your cold house shut off as you double back on yourself and return to the kitchen.
No more interruptions.
You’ll eat the rest of your (now cold) dinner, wash your chopsticks and your sauce pan, and then you’ll settle into your recliner with a cup of cocoa and finally watch that movie.
The noodles are mushy in your mouth, the egg rubbery.
A ragged, frustrated sob scrapes past your teeth as you hunch over the pan.
You’re so busy trying to convince yourself that your dinner isn’t gross, that the noodles don’t look like the worms from that horror movie you watched last week, that you really shouldn’t throw it on the floor and cry, that you don’t even notice the soft footsteps of the man entering your kitchen behind you.
You don’t notice the kitchen knife that glints in his hand, or the way his eyes alight on your cellphone where you abandoned it on the counter.
You don’t notice him slip it into his pocket and settle his eyes on you.
In fact, you don’t notice him at all until his breath is on your ear, returning your greeting from earlier. “Hello.”
Both chopsticks fly out of your hand as you dive away from the voice in your ear. The shriek you utter deafens you, and the table scrapes the floor when you try to use it to push yourself away.
Hands clamp down on your arms, immobilizing you completely.
There’s a moment where your brain blanks out, and then it’s filling with answers and questions. You’re trying to cope, all whilst being held down in your own kitchen. Maybe it’s your friend from work? Maybe it’s Woosung, but would he really come back like this? Maybe it’s your neighbor—anything to manifest an answer other than the truth.
There’s a stranger in your kitchen.
There’s a stranger in your house.
His grip tightens as you thrash and scream, and suddenly you’re yanked back against your chairback and his mouth is pressed to your ear again.
“Stop screaming.”
That’s when you see the knife. It’s in the corner of your eye, reflecting light from your overhead onto your face, and you realize that he’s holding your left arm with a thumb and two fingers because the other two are gripping a blade from your knife block.
You have a damn knife block.
Why the hell did you run upstairs with an immersion blender when you have a block full of knives?
Your mouth clamps shut.
The grip on your arms loosen and your chair is suddenly being jerked away from the table.
You use the second of freedom to bolt out of your seat, arms reaching for the counter where you’d left your phone.
It isn’t there.
Before you can redirect your efforts to searching for a weapon, a hand grips your wrist and spins you around so forcefully that your shoulder twinges.
You see him now.
He looms over you, and he’s everything you’ve ever feared finding in the dark shadows of your house. His broad shoulders are cloaked in a huge black hoodie, black gloves covering his hands, a mask covering his mouth and nose and his hood drowning the rest of his face in darkness.
In the next second, the man swathed in darkness lunges at you and you crumple, screaming.
Your knees hit the floor with a painful crack, your arms whipping up to protect your face, but then he’s on you, impossibly fast.
“I told you to stop screaming.”
He wrenches your arms around behind your back, and you feel something rough wrap around your wrists—a kitchen towel binding your hands together.
When your hands are secured behind your back, his gloved hand claps over your mouth, the movement crushing you back against his chest.
Terror claws at your heart. Every muscle in your body trembles as the man pants against you and your eyes squeeze shut.
He’s going to kill you.
Or he’s going to rape you.
Or he’s going to rape you and then kill you.
“Are you going to shut up?” His voice rasps in your ear, his fingers still pressing harshly into your face.
You nod.
He waits before he lets go, as though testing the tension in your body, and then his hand falls away and he pushes you off of his chest.
The man rises and moves away from you, leaving you to sag against the kitchen cabinets as a swell of emotion leaves your body in a rush. He’s left you on the tile floor, not bothering to even look at you once he’s back on his feet.
You pull your legs under you to sit cross-legged, curiosity suddenly overwhelming the fear that has you in a vice.
He’s at your table, ignoring your pot of ramen and the cardboard box, gloved fingers picking up your laptop and flipping it over to see the manufacturer’s stickers. Then he slides the laptop into the backpack slung across his shoulders and your heart sinks for what feels like the hundredth time.
When he turns to your expensive Nikon camera next, you can’t help but let your head droop in defeat.
Of course you’re being robbed.
After everything this week already, why not?
Might as well put the icing on the cake and steal everything you own.
You almost hope he decides to kill you on his way out, so at least then you don’t have to think about waking up tomorrow with nothing at all to your name.
After sliding the professional grade camera gently into his bag, the intruder turns on his heel to reach for your purse hanging on the back of one of your chairs, and his eyes fall on your dejected form.
Shoulders slumped, head bowed, tears free falling to plop a little mascara-swirled splatter pattern into your white socks.
He puts the knife down and snatches up the purse.
A second later, though, he’s looking at you again.
He’s seen your entire house. He knows you’re struggling—from the empty living room with nothing but old furniture and a TV from 2018, to your bedroom with your empty jewelry box, to the entryway table stacked high with unpaid bills, to the empty driveway and lack of car keys—literally the only thing he’s going to get away with tonight is your relatively nice laptop (last year’s model) and the camera that probably costs the same as a new motorcycle.
Your empty house is so pathetic that he almost feels bad for taking the two electronics.
They’re literally all you have, if he doesn’t count the Walmart-brand clothing hanging in your closet and the dirty fast food uniform crumpled in the floor of your bedroom.
From where you sit on the floor, you take in a deep breath, sniffle once, and close your eyes.
A fresh round of tears splash down on your socks.
“Are you…okay?” He doesn’t know why he asks, or why he thinks he’ll get any answer other than some insult regarding his assault on your person, but he can’t help it.
Your body sways like his words have had a physical impact. “Of course I’m not fucking okay.” You hiss, and turn your head away from him.
He unzips your wallet and thumbs through the bills. There’s not a lot of money, and you don’t have any credit cards. “I could be the last person you ever talk to,” He says absently, and he’s joking, but you don’t know that. “You might as well get it all out now.”
He hears your head smack into the kitchen cabinet just before it all comes out in a devastated wail. “I just wanted to watch this stupid movie. I’ve been waiting for two weeks for it to come out so I could watch it with Woosung—”
Your boyfriend, he assumes.
“But two days ago he decided to fuck my best friend instead—”
Your ex boyfriend, he corrects himself.
“And then I got laid off because my boss found out that three quarters of his workforce is going to try to get unionized, and I already wasn’t getting paid enough to pay my bills so I had to get a second job in fast food even though I had to sell my car and the realtor is coming to look at the house tomorrow—”
He cuts you off mid-sob. “Which movie?”
You blink, stunned. “What?”
He’s now leaning against your table, fingers playing with the edge of the cardboard box that he now realizes is full of the contents of your desk, still unpacked because you clearly had to go collect your things earlier today. His backpack is on the table next to your pot of ramen, your purse still hanging on your chair with your wallet still inside.
Between the hood and the face mask, you see his eyebrows lift. “Which movie have you been waiting for?”
Your face screws up in confusion, tears and snot dripping off your chin, and your eyes dart to the living room. “It…it’s called Carry-On. On Netflix.”
The man follows your gaze, thinking for a long second, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Alright, sure. I’m down.”
Fear and confusion battle it out in your chest until you’re sure you’re having a stroke. He wants to watch a movie with you? In the middle of his robbery? “I can’t watch a movie with you.”
His face swings back around to you. “Why not?”
He sounds so genuinely curious (and a little bit offended) that you have to remind yourself to stop gaping at him.
“Because…you…you’re robbing me.” Gaze darting significantly to his backpack full of the only remnants of your livelihood, you find yourself having an even harder time understanding this turn of events than you had when he first appeared behind you.
The man lets out a scoff, head canting back as though you’ve cracked a joke. “And you’re an expert on robbing procedure?” A huffs a short laugh and tosses his hood off with a quick swipe of his hand.
Dark curls burst into view.
As he reaches for his face mask, your feet kick out on reflex and you’re suddenly fighting the stiffness in your spine to wildly turn your body away from him. Dozens of episodes of the true crime podcast you listen to every day come to mind, ringing through your skull at the implication of seeing this man’s face, and the fear sets in like a poison. “No, please don’t take your mask off—I swear I won’t report any of this—you don’t have to kill me—”
He cuts off your desperate pleas abruptly. “Babygirl, shut up and go push play.”
The completely unexpected pet name, combined with the feeling of him releasing your hands from the dish towel binding has you falling utterly still, mouth silent. His thumb and forefinger grasp your chin and pull your head around, and you’re faced with a young man and his dimpled smile that grins at you like you’re his best friend.
It’s weird. It’s all wrong.
“What are you going to do to me?” You whisper, edging as slowly as you can out of his grasp.
You can’t see his knife anywhere, but that doesn’t mean that this man with his huge shoulders and massive hands can’t crush you without the use of a weapon.
“I’m going to force you to watch a movie with me.”
Your face blanches at his choice of words and he leans back, exasperated. “Not like that. Go into the living room. You got any more of that?” He nods to the cocoa packet on your counter, next to the hot water kettle.
His hands on your elbows bring you to your feet, and you point shakily to the drawer beneath the counter. “In the drawer.”
The next thing you know, you’re sitting on the couch with a mug of cocoa, your robber sitting on the other end with his own cup, and you can’t even process the scenes on the TV in front of you. You’ve been wanting to watch this stupid movie for two full weeks, and now you don’t even acknowledge it.
Your limbs are as stiff as steel, your heart pounding obnoxiously in your ears, your body leaning as far away from the man who’s introduced himself as Chris as possible. Your eyes are pinned on him, memorizing the slope of his nose and the cut of his jaw and the curve of his eyes.
You tell yourself it’s to get a description for the police, but as the movie goes on and he just keeps to himself and comments on the scenes, you start to relax. It takes half an hour, but you finally allow yourself to move enough to take a sip from the cocoa in your hands.
It warms your insides, fighting against the chill of your house, and lowers your defenses ever so slightly.
Suddenly, Chris notices your eyes on him and he looks at you, one eyebrow quirked. “You don’t like the movie?”
You don’t even remember what you’re watching.
“Are you going to take my TV?”
His eyes disappear into crescents as his face breaks into a smile. “Babygirl, your TV is shit.”
There’s that pet name again.
Heat floods into your cheeks but you tell yourself it’s because he’s identified the fact that you haven’t been able to afford to replace your ancient television, even though the apps frequently crash. He’s going to kill you later when Netflix crashes and you have to get up and unplug the TV for ten seconds to make it work again.
Oh, God, he might actually kill you.
But he just goes back to commenting on the movie. “I can’t look at her without thinking Disney channel.”
You’re thinking about his backpack in the kitchen, wondering if you can get up and steal your stuff back and hide it without him noticing. You wonder where your phone went, if you left it on the bus or if you actually did leave it on the counter—which means Chris has it.
The knife he grabbed from your block is probably on the table, too. You could hide it, or take it for yourself. You just have to tell him you want a drink from the kitchen and get up—
You have a drink. It’s the cocoa he made for you.
Maybe he poisoned it? Roofied it?
But you watched him make it. You already know it’s safe.
“Did you see him in the Kingsman movies?” He asks, and your eyes flick to the screen.
You nod absently, humming a noncommittal yes as you sip from your cup.
Chris cups his own mug in both hands, his focus never leaving the TV screen. “I can’t take Jason Bateman seriously after Identity Thief.”
You’re so confused you could cry. “Why are you doing this?” You burst out, tears flooding your eyes again. “You attacked me and tried to rob me and now you’re drinking my cocoa and watching my Netflix?”
His gaze swings to you again, eyes wide with surprise. He watches you, huddled in the corner of your own couch with your knees crushed to your chest, literally shaking from head to toe, and his features soften into a smile. “I can’t do it,” He admits.
You sniffle, blinking at him.
“It’d be like that scene from the Disney Robin Hood, when the sheriff takes the kid’s birthday money. God, I still can’t watch that without tearing up.” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling in remembrance and then looks back at you, his lips cutely pursed.
No, not cutely.
This man tried to rob you.
He’s not cute.
“So, you’re not robbing me?”
He shakes his head with a shrug. “Nah. But don’t worry about it, your neighbors have some good shit. I’ll hit them next week, as per my original plan. And I was never going to hurt you, by the way. That’s way too high profile for me. I like to skate under the radar.” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, miming his skating under the radar. After a moment, he brings his mug to his lips and muttered, “Boy did I fail tonight.”
You let your feet drop to the floor, turning to face him as some of the tension releases from your muscles. “Don’t do that—you can’t do that. Don’t rob my neighbors.”
He raises an eyebrow at you over the lip of his cup. “I will rob your entire neighborhood before I put on a uniform like the one you’ve got upstairs.”
You gasp, the creak on your stairs returning to mind. “I knew it—you were upstairs!”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah. And I was soooo scared of you and your stirrer stick thing. Thanks for putting your dogs away for me—made my snooping much easier.”
You’ve forgotten about your girls, but they can wait. “It’s an immersion blender.” You snap. “And I could have blended the hell out of you.”
He fakes a shiver and makes a mocking noise of fear. “You sure we shouldn’t be watching a horror movie?”
“My life is a horror movie.” You shoot back, smacking your mug down on the side table. Returning to your earlier point, you turn back to him and almost find yourself leaning closer. “Please don’t rob my neighborhood, Chris. The people next door have me over for dinner on Sundays and the family down the street helps me with the yard work and home repairs.”
After a moment, he relents with a thoughtful nod. “Alright fine, I’ll rob your ex then.”
You can’t help the wicked pleasure that brings you. “I suppose that’s alright. I have his address in my phone somewhere.” Your eyebrows lift as you say it, hoping he’ll get the hint.
He does.
Chris gives a little jump, like he’d totally forgotten, and then digs in the pockets of his joggers. “Oh, right. Here. I’m hoping you won’t call the cops now that we have a pact.” He bobs his eyebrows at you.
You take your phone from him and roll your eyes, finally settling into your couch with little concern for the danger from earlier. “Scare him like you scared me and we have a deal.” You can just imagine Woosung huddled in some corner of his apartment, screaming his rotten little heart out while Chris looms over him with a knife. “But, like, don’t kill him.”
Chris deflates a little, like he’d been interested in trying something new, but he jabs out a hand anyway. “Deal.”
You clap your hand into his and find yourself smiling.
When you don’t pull away immediately, Chris searches your face with soft eyes. “He really fucked you up, didn’t he?”
The memory from a few days ago, finding your boyfriend of two years in your bed with your best friend comes crashing back down on you. You’re so busy fighting the rush of tears that you don’t notice that your playful handshake has turned into Chris cradling your hand in his. “He said it was a mistake.” You sniffle and turn your eyes to the TV.
Chris gives your hand a squeeze. “Me thinking I could find anything worth stealing in this house was a mistake.” He grins widely when you take the bait and slap his chest with your free hand.
It’s way flirtier than you were intending.
“He’s an asshole.” Chris says, and it helps.
“Yeah.” You agree. “They both are. You are, too, kinda.”
Chris gapes at you, actually offended. “I’m the only one who showed up for you this week, how can you say that?”
“You also tied me up and held me at knifepoint, which is definitely asshole behavior.” You realize your hand is still in his, and you pull away, but your shocked smile doesn’t leave your face.
How is this happening? This man broke into your house and you’re sitting on your couch, watching a movie and flirting with him? You must be insane.
You’re so deeply lost in your mind, questioning your own sanity, that you don’t notice how close he’s leaning to you until his breath hits your ear.
It’s a parallel of earlier, but this time the heat his closeness carries is an entirely different sort.
Your heart pounds wildly in your throat and you lean away, gawking at him. “Woah, pump the brakes, Klepto.”
He falls back against your couch, a defeated smile curling his lips as he laughs at himself. “I thought we were having a moment?”
“I’m not kissing you after you broke into my house.” You refute weakly, crossing your arms over your chest. You have to do something to put distance between the two of you, because the way Chris is looking at you is putting a fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach.
“Babygirl, the only broke in here is you.”
Your jaw hits the floor. The third use of that damn pet name is getting to you. “I can’t believe I’m being poverty shamed by the guy who steals stuff for a living.”
He practically squeaks with laughter, the movie finally forgotten. “If I go outside and knock, can I kiss you then?” Chris leans in close again, but lets himself be shoved away by your hand on his chest.
“Why don’t you try it?” Your cheeks are on fire.
Chris sighs, abandoning his efforts and leans back into his own space. “You’re not going to let me back in, are you?”
The movie fills the silence. You’re finally comfortable enough that you want to ask if you can put it back to the beginning and watch it over again, but you don’t.
It feels like only moments later that you’re being gently shaken awake, a hard warmth under your cheek.
“You’re falling asleep on me babygirl. Why don’t you go to bed?” Chris’s voice asks, and you realize you’re slumped over on his shoulder.
This man broke into your house, attacked you in your kitchen, all but called you pathetically broke, and now you’ve fallen asleep on him.
Your life is utterly wrecked.
“Don’t have a bed. I sleep here.” You mumble.
Chris freezes. “What?”
He was upstairs earlier, looking for valuables. How did he miss a detail like that?
“Sold my bedroom set,” You say. “Bought groceries and paid the mortgage. I sleep on the couch.”
Chris is suddenly scooting out from under you, carefully lowering your head to rest on the couch pillow. “Alright, go to sleep then. I’ll turn the heater on before I go, where’s your thermostat?” He smooths a hand over your hair, glancing around the walls.
“I had my heating turned off,” You explain sleepily. “Just blankets.”
Chris can’t believe he tried to rob you, and he further can’t believe how much it bothers him that you can’t afford basic necessities. “Babygirl, you can’t live like this.”
You’re already asleep.
When you wake up in the morning, huddled on the couch under an obnoxious pile of blankets, you find your laptop and your camera on the kitchen table, and Chris’s phone number scrawled onto a sticky note on your coffee table.
‘Had a great time last night. Coffee later? Also, text me your ex’s address. - Chris.’
PART 2 INFO
Hope you guys liked it! Comments make my day :)
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𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝒾.
ʚɞ pairing: bang chan x fem!reader ʚɞ word count: 0.4k ʚɞ genre: smut ʚɞ tags: overstimulation, spanking, unprotected sex ʚɞ synopsis: You may be overstimulated, but that's his favorite part.
“Channie, I can’t keep my legs up.” You feel the muscles of your thighs straining from the posture you’re in, all four of your limbs situated on the bed to keep your ass arched for your boyfriend.
You expected your orgasm to wear you out after the hours of teasing and foreplay already leaving you on edge, but you didn’t imagine it to take every ounce of strength you had.
Chan seemed to figure it out quickly, though. And in spite of your body’s weakened state, he wants more. He always does.
He’s already pleasured you to a release once, but he won’t stop until you orgasm another time.
“You can handle it, my love. You always do,” He whispers, his tone loving but adamant. He kneads the skin of your ass with his palms as he continues a slow, deliberate pace. His cock continues to massage your abused walls, the veins on the underside of his shaft triggering more traces of your new sensitivity. Your boyfriend’s actions and words prove he’s far from done, and you’re unsure if you should hate or love him for it, or both.
Chan wants every sexual experience you have together to wear you out, leave you thoroughly spent and satiated for the days to come when rehearsals, interviews, and traveling take up his time. To remind you in every instance you’re apart that the soreness between your legs is all because of him and the ache from being without him is because he knows exactly how to give you what you want.
“Fuck yourself on it.” Your half-lidded eyes go wide. You look over your shoulder at him, unsure what to say in response to his crude demand. He only smirks and continues to massage your skin. “You heard me. Fuck yourself on my dick.”
You pout and release a weak mewl. What more can you do when your body feels like a wet blanket, the fucking from before spending you to no end?
Your response causes Chan to bring his hand down on one of your ass cheeks hard. The smack makes a ragged moan erupt from your throat. “We both know you want to come again,” he says, dark humor and desire laced in his words.
You dip your head low into the pillow on your bed and begin rocking your hips against Chan. He remains unmoving as you feel him fill you completely because of your pace. You may be weak, but you can’t stop. And Chan knows it.
“That’s my good girl.”
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Somnia
pairing: Chan x reader
warnings: just fluff
Somnia. Somnia is a Latin word that means sleep. It was one of the first words you leaned at the Latin class in college. The word itself sounded beautiful to you and it couldn't describe you better.
Since your birth, you had no problems with sleeping at all. You could sleep everywhere and anywhere. You just needed to close your eyes and immediately, you were asleep.
However, your boyfriend Bang Chan was the complete opposite. He suffered from insomnia. Another Latin word, meaning the direct opposite, sleeplessness.
The first few months of your relationship he tried to hide it, to don't worry you. But you noticed pretty quickly that he seemed tired and the circles under his eyes were dark.
You had confronted him about it and he told you about his insomnia. From there on, you tried everything to make him relax and get him to sleep as much as possible. Whenever he stayed the night at your apartment, you switched on your fairy lights above your bed and lit some candles with a comforting and relaxing scent.
Another thing you did was cooking for him. With his busy schedule, he often forgot to eat so that was the first thing you gave him when he arrived at your home. Afterwards you would cuddle on your bed with some snacks in front of you and your favourite show.
With some soothing messages, Chan fell asleep almost immediately, completely drained from the day. And he definitely didn't get enough sleep yesterday.
When the years passed, he moved into your apartment. Nearly every night, you helped him to sleep.
His insomnia turned slowly into somnia. But sadly, it seemed that he couldn't sleep without you at all. Whenever he laid next to you, his world was only about you. All the stress disappeared and he found comfort, his tense shoulders relaxing and his thoughts quietening.
But without you, there was nothing that could turn off his head, his stress and all the thing he had to keep in mind during the day. That made it extremely difficult to sleep and rest during tours where he was away for a long time.
You noticed the dark circles under his eyes when you did video calls, his tired face reminded you of the passed years where his insomnia was at its peak. You feared that he would break some day, that he would faint from the exhaustion.
You immediately booked the next flight to the city where the next concert would take place. The staff helped you with bringing your luggage to his room. He was already rehearsing on the stage, the concert was starting within the next two hours.
Then, you drove there just shortly after it started and the staff brought you backstage so that you could watch your boyfriend from there. He was magnificent on stage, interacting with his fans.
When there was a quick outfit change, you stood in the dark near the stage, waiting for your loved one so that you could surprise him as soon as he got off stage. His eyes went wide when he realised who stood in front of him. He quickly hugged you intimately and pressed his kiss on yours before he went changing. The others hugged you too, likewise surprised.
After the concert was finished, he jumped into your arms again, pulling you even closer in their dressing room. He deeply inhaled your scent.
Even though Seungmin teased him about it, he never left your embrace, pulling you into the car with him that was about to drive to the hotel. Chan rested his head on your shoulder. The stress and energy left his body and he just felt tired and exhausted. His messed up sleeping schedule seemed to catch up on him the second his head on your shoulder.
After a fifteen minute ride, you nudged your snoring boyfriend tenderly to get him out of the car. A small whine left his mouth and he just cuddled further into your embrace. It took some attempts to finally wake him up.
His sleepy eyes fluttered open and he stepped out of the car, however, he still clutched your hand like you would disappear any time.
In your hotel room, he pulled you without further ado with him on the bed and you landed half on top of him. You giggled and brushed his hair out of his face. A cosy sigh was heard from him.
"Come, Channie, we still have make up on. We need to remove it" he shook his head in a slow motion, eyes already shut. You sighed and pressed a quick kiss on his nose before wiggling out of his arms.
You grabbed your make up bag and headed to the bathroom to take off your own make up. Then, you grabbed a cotton pad, soaking it with remover before you went back to Chan. You sat down beside him, slowly cleaning his face. You knew he was still awake, just resting his eyes. Careful, you removed the last spots, before throwing the pad next to the bed.
Immediately, his arms circled around you and pulled you back down. You didn't mind as long as he gets the sleep that he deserves.
#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids#bang chan#bang chan x reader#christopher bang#bang chan imagines#bang chan scenarios#bang chan x reader fluff#chan x reader fluff
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Sea of Thieves
Bang Chan x Male Reader
cw: pirate au, top chan, bareback, rough sex, dacryphilia, non-con/dubcon, musk kink, restraints/use of shibari (kinda), degradation, spit, cumming hands free, fingering, blowjob, rimjob, a belly bulge mention.
—
yn was escaping from the law, he had just become the most wanted after stealing the black pearl from the royal family. with no other way out, he boarded a ship as a stowaway, hoping that it would take him to a place far away from there, but unbeknownst to him, he had made a serious mistake. he didn't know it, but he had boarded the ship of the pirate christopher chan.
chris was known for getting what he wanted, he doesn't care if he has to kill for it, he'll do it, a player who slept with the daughters of the kings of the areas he visited and then stole their precious jewelry and had loot in gold coins. truly a motherfucker.
chris was going downstairs to secure his treasures, then, he heard a sound, he dismissed it at first thinking it was just a rat. “fucking plague” he snarls, while moving one of the big chests a tiny vase fell from the top of one and fell right over yn’s head making him emit a whimper. chris turns his head quickly to the sound “that’s not a fucking rat” he furiously stomps to where he heard the sound. pushing chests and nests aside he found a man covering his mouth, fear plastered on his face.
“the fuck you’re doing here…” he asks. yn shakes in fear, his first reflex was to throw something at the pirate and run. he climbs the stairs and when to the top of the ship just to find out it already sailed, he was now in the middle of the ocean with nowhere to escape, seeing no other way he was already to jump when something hit his head. the world around him became blurry while he fell to the wooden floor. then suddenly everything turns to black.
in a dark room with only the dim light of a candle. the sound of a slap echoed on the room accompanied with a “wake up bitch”. yn opened his eyes, confused, “where am i?”
“in my boat” someone responded. yn tried to follow the voice then his eyes met with a face, a handsome one, but he was angry. “are you one of those spies that fuckers send to steal my treasures?” he stands up, walking towards yn, each step echoed in the room as if a giant was coming near the prisoner. chris tugged on the rope that was preventing yn to move. he was suspended on the roof in a rather uncomfortable position. the rope went all the way to his neck, circling it, then going down his body with lots of knots here and there, on his wrists, torso and feet. unbeknownst to him, the pirate chris, tied him as if he was going to practice shibari.
the ropes on his ass were uncomfortable, they were positioned as if he was wearing a jockstrap, the ropes highlighting his clothed ass.
the interrogation went for almost like an hour, yn’s pleas annoyed chris but his tears were causing something to him, something hardening in his pants. at first chris ignores it thinking it was because he hasn’t slept with someone these past couple of days, maybe it was because he was alone on the ship now, right?.
the pirate tried so hard to avoid that growing burning sensation on his crotch but failed. something about yn’s flushed and helpless face, the tears sparkling due to the dim candle’s light.
“please i just want to get away from these lands” he said, “if- if you help me i can give you something in return”. the last part catching chris’ attention, “what?”. “i have something that if you help me to sell it you can buy a new ship with it.. hell even 10 ships if you want” yn quickly offers “let’s split my treasure in half, just.. just take me away from here”.
chris was dumbfounded, what was that thing that he had that would cost so much but his dick was still aching, it was begging to be freed so he added something more to the proposal, “we have a deal but.. i want something more” he moves around yn then positioning himself behind the prisoner. his fingers doing circling motions on the other’s clothed ass and then grabbing it full with his hand “let me take care of this” as he said that he rips yn’s pants, exposing his back entrance. “what the fuck” yn yells but his protests are quickly muffled by chris’ fat manly dick swinging in front of his face. the pirate undoes a knot so yn’s head hangs lower and he can take all of his dick on his mouth “put that mouth to better use. whore” chris put all his shaft inside it at once, making yn gag. he starts slowly then increased the speed. everytime he pulls down to go back and slam his junk on that wet cavity lots of saliva dripped to the floor and yn’s face. “watching you cry made something to me, so you should take full responsibility for it. be a good manwhore and swallow it all”.
“open wide” he keeps demanding, his balls slapping against yn’s face. yn obeyed and chris forced him to deepthroat him.”you’re skilled at this huh?. it makes me wonder how many dicks have you sucked before”. the pirate keeps slamming himself against the restrained man as if he was some kind of toy made just for his pleasures.
while he waits to cum on yn’s mouth he starts to spit and finger his exposed hole. his trust were sloppy now, signaling he was about to cum, in one of the his cock slipped out of yn’s mouth. the stowaway asks “what are you doing to my ass?” he was about to keep protesting but chris’ cock enters again on his mouth, he shushed him, “keep on sucking me bitch boy. i’m just preparing you for later”.
chris spat, fingered, slapped and kiss the other’s ass, it looks as if he was making out with his already puckered hole, “look how he’s winking at me. he wants me so bad” chris joked about yn clenching onto nothing but soon he would have the other’s tongue inside to clench on it.
yn wet gagging sounds filled the room, he was trying to swallow all the sperm the pirate shot inside his throat, it was a lot that he choked on it, coughing out some of the liquid. “i almost die, you bastard” once again yn’s complaints were ignored because chris was only focused on sucking his hole ‘this motherfucker is so good with his tongue’ yn thought, the anger on his face being just a facade to hide the pleasure he was receiving.
chris rearranged the rope and the knots leaving yn still suspended on air but this time his legs are wide open so the pirate can get an easy acces to his hole “time for real fun” he jokes slapping his tip on the wet hole. “don't fucking put that thing on me.. it's too big” he cried, “don't worry bitch boy” the pirate reassured in a mocking tone that didn't convince yn at all.
“let me use that used hole” he muttered, ramming all his shaft inside at once. tears formed on yn's eyes accompanied with a guttural moan “what's up bitch boy, you can’t handle me” he laughs at how pathetic yn was looking but his hole feels good so he's not gonna complain.
he put his calloused hand on yn's mouth “you're crying it's getting on my nerves” using it as a way to pound yn harder, every inch of it making its way on yn's insides. once in a while he stops thrusting to spit on his shaft as if it was a lube. the warm sensation of the spit making yn ‘feel funny’ causing that he clenches even more.
minutes later yn was free, except by his hands that were tied behind his back. he'a riding the pirate who got tired of doing all the work, “come on, move faster” he demanded slapping his hand against yn's cheeks. “hngh” he squirmed, still feeling the hand imprint burning in his ass “yes sir” he accelerated his pace. gushy sounds echoed in the room, accompanied by the crashing waves outside the ship and some moon light.
chris locked his arm around yn's neck and thrusted like a beast, forming a bulge in yn's stomach “wait. ahhh~” and as if it was a fountain yn's dick spurted cum everywhere, white drops falling on his body, the floor and even some on the walls.
“hahaha” chris laughs, amused of what he just saw “look at you cumming just by your ass. and you swear you're not a bitch”.
yn legs tremble, the tiredness and overstimulaton mix hitting him. “don't sleep on me i still have to fill you up” the pirate cooed, moving his hips slowly in a sensual manner. knowing that he could stay the rest of the night being drilled by that fat dick and seeing that he's falling asleep he decide to made him cum faster.
he grabbed chris’ neck getting his face closer towards him and kissed him, tongues battling to control each other's. meanwhile he moves his hips faster meeting chris’ thrusts that never slowed their pace, “what's gotten into yo-” he was cut by yn sloppy kisses. he was determined to make that bastard cum no matter what.
few thrusts later the pirate cums, yn’s walls sucking the milk out of it like a milking machine, “holy fuckkkk” chris slurred “you know how to work with that hole of yours”. he didn't pull out until the last drop was emptied on yn, his face resting against the stowaway's back, “shit that was good” a smile creeping on the pirate's face while yn just nodded tiredly…
yn wakes up in a bed, with new clothes, he climbs the stairs to look for the pirate, “hey bitchboy you're awake” he waved “yeah but my ass is sore. and stop calling me like that” yn replied, brows furrowed showing how annoyed he was. “tell me about the treasure” he asked with a serious tone and yn told him about the black pearl and how he got it. they planned to stay with it but knowing how dangerous it will be when everyone finds out they have it they decided to sell it and split the coins in two.
“i'm gonna reunite with my crew, see you later” chris said and turn his heels to go back to his ship, “why did you say see you later?” yn asked, being quickly responded by chris “i have a feeling that we will meet soon again” he says while doing some vulgar signs with his hands and sticking his tongue out, “you're disgusting” yn yells and chris just laughs at him showing the middle finger.
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“Hey, you up?” B.C
Pairing: Bang Chan x reader
Genre: Angst, Smut
Warnings: This content is for a mature audience
Synopsis: Don't wanna end this game Hope it goes for eternity Let's not go official, we can keep the "You & Me" Don't ask, "What are we?"
Author's notes: This is sad and steamy. It's been quite some time, sorry. Hope you like it.
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“Hey, you up?”
Nights like this always start the same. Same message, same reply, same outcome. Every. Single. Time. And every time you end up the same way. Tangled in your cold bed sheets, staring at ceiling, while he’s quick to look for his clothes and get out as quick as possible. A long time ago you had tried to get him to stay, but now you know it is a lost cause. Chan would never stay over, because staying over is for people in relationships, and he doesn’t do relationships.
“I’ve never liked labels, if we are having fun, why spoilt it with technicalities?”, he said.
Things started with you being naive enough to believe that sex would be enough for your fragile heart. Maybe you could get closer to him little by little, you thought, maybe he would grow feelings (well, at least you did) maybe, maybe, maybe...
Sex with Chan is great, mind-blowing, you’d never had someone who was so focused on your body, on what you like and what sends you over the edge. It was like he had memorized every single nerve of your body, knowing where to touch, where to suck, like or bite. It was everything he did that made you almost addicted to him; the way his fingers would reach places yours could never even imagine; how his tongue and lips seemed to be able to go on forever, never once complaining; the way his hips and his cock would move and thrust sending you into heaven every single time. Chan was a giver in bed, always making sure to put you first while in bed, many orgasms, and blissful hours at a time, but as soon as you were done, he went back to being the same detached man you know.
And while at first, you could somewhat stand this kind of relationship, it was slowly destroying you on the inside. So, now you lay there, staring at your phone screen, debating yourself. Would it be worth it? At least for a few hours, to be in his arms until your little bubble pops once he’s had his fill. Saving your soul and your mental peace would be a wise decision, but you are weak, weak and in love.
“Fuck, Chris!” You pulled his hair, his head between your legs, while his lips are wrapped around your clit and his fingers piston in and out of your hole. His other hand keeps your legs open while you thrash them around, unable to keep them still.
His fingers change into their angle, making you throw your head back, now his tongue kitten licks your small bundle of nerves, “Common, pretty girl. Cum one more time and I’ll fuck you the way you like.” His lips sucked harshly.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, please, please, please.” You didn't even know what you were begging for, “Don’t stop, Chan.” Tears threatened to come out, it was too much.
“You are doing so good, such a good girl, my perfect little slut. Come on, baby cum.” His tongue thrusting itself into you, sending you over the edge. Your back arched and you let out such a sound you were sure the neighbours would complain in the morning, but you couldn't care less right now.
Eyes closed and desperate for air, your legs numb and a tingly feeling between them, Chan kept lapping at your centre, slurping all your juices, overstimulating you. Your mind was in complete bliss, making you unaware of the producer’s next plans. He was quick to turn you around, grabbing your hips and putting you in four.
“Fucking hell, you have no idea how much I love your ass.” He said as he spanked your cheeks a couple of times, leaving a dark imprint on both. You moaned and shoved your face into your pillows, you could feel your juices start to spill down your leg.
“Please, please, fuck me, Chanie.” You wiggled your hips, trying to entice him.
He grabbed his cock and rubbed your clit with it, “Yeah? You want my cock, baby?” He pressed it against your cunt, pushing a bit in, but it wasn’t enough, “Beg for it, love.”
You whined, your skin was on fire, and your legs trembled with need, “please, daddy, I’ve been a good girl, please, please, I need your cock, plea...” You screamed.
Chan shoved himself with a single thrust. Throwing his head back and grabbing your hips tightly, he didn’t give you any time to get used to. “Shit, you are so fucking tight.” His pelvis banged the tender skin of your ass, his balls slapping your clit, and his cock hitting against your cervix. His rhythm was too much, but you wouldn’t dare escape it.
He leaned himself into you, put his hand right beside your head. He could see how red your face was, the way your mouth let out at sins and how tears ran down your face. And he was loving every single second of it. “Who is making you feel this good, baby?”
You couldn't even answer, gibberish and moans came out of you, but that wasn’t enough for you. He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting a sensitive spot inside you, making you scream, his hand went right to your clit, rubbing it in circles, “Answer me. Who?” You tried once again, but nothing clear came out.
Tired of this, Chan straightens himself, taking you with him. Your back against his chest, his hand choking your neck while his thrust got even quicker, his mouth right next to your ear. “I know you are nothing but a dumb slut, but I’m talking to you, and I expect an answer. Now.” Thrust. “Tell me.” Thrust. “Who’s fucking you this good?”. He bit you, marking you.
“You, Chan!” Your thighs burned and you were so close, your juices now ran down his balls, and you felt like passing out. He pushed you to the bed, pressing himself against your back.
“This pussy is mine, you hear me? No one else can have it.” His thrusts were becoming quicker, shorter and desperate, he was also close. “Only I get to fuck it, you are my whore, no one else’s.” Thrust. “Don’t you dare forget that.”
Nonsense and his name kept coming out of you like a prayer, everything building up, until the tight knot in your stomach finally snapped, juices squirting everywhere. He wasn’t there yet, so he kept going, overstimulating you, sending your nerves into overdrive.
“Just a bit more, Babygirl, hold on, yes, you are such a good girl, goddamn how much I love fucking you. Oh god!” And like that, you felt his warmth filling you up, making you cum once again. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, his seed spilling out of you and into your sheets. Your legs finally give in, and you fall flat out into the mattress.
Your brain is somewhere else, trying to come back down, and Chan is right next to you. His left arm is in his face, he licks his lips in dehydration, his chest falls up and down quickly and his right hand holds tightly onto your thigh, trying to ground himself.
And just as fast as Chan comes, he goes. He straightens himself, sitting down at the edge of the bed, he’s quiet and distant, looking for his clothes. Not once does the turn to look at you. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” You whisper, laying on your side, facing away from him.
“Good.” He pulls his pants up, and his shirt next.
As he’s about to make his great escape, all reason flies out of your head.
“Hey, Chris?”
“Yes?”
“What are we?”
You wait a few seconds, but nothing comes of his mouth, you have an answer.
“Yeah, I knew it. Goodbye, Chris.”
He doesn’t dare anything else, so he leaves.
Everything had changed in that second, and you both know it.
_________________
It had been weeks since that night. All messages had gone unanswered. You were no longer lying in bed wondering if you should do it, you didn't. It was now Chan who tried to reach out.
“Hey, you up?”
“Hey, you up?”
“Hey, you up?”
“Hey, umm I don’t know if you are busy, but call me when you can. Or text me.”
“Hey, baby haven’t seen you in a while. Text me. Please.”
“Hey, did you change your number, and I forgot to save it or...”
“Hey, I went to that café you like so much, you are right, it’s really good, we should go once you are not so busy. Text me.”
“Hey, did I do something? Are you mad at me? Cause if I did, please let’s talk it out.”
“Hey, listen, I don’t want to lose you over something so stupid. Call me. Please.”
You can’t lose something you never had; you think. Work and friends kept you busy enough so you didn’t think about him in the day, nights were much more complicated, and there were days you were tempted to go back, longing for him, for his touch and his warmth, but you knew it would only make you feel worse.
Han was the best friend in the world, taking you out and making you break out of your shell little by little, some days it was a party, others it was just the two of you. Some days you felt like you were at the top of the world, whereas others you could only weep in his arms until you passed out from the pain.
_________________
You looked at yourself in the mirror. Makeup and hair done, high heels and heavy earrings, and even though you were trying to erase that fact from your head, his favourite dress on. Han had chosen it for you, and you couldn’t tell him why you had avoided that specific piece of clothing.
“You ready, sweetie?” He peeked into the room. You nodded, not sure of it.
_________________
Music was blasting out and bright coloured lights covered the entire place. The drink in your hand had served its purpose, you were drunk. In the middle of the dance floor, Han has his hands on your waist, keeping you close while you dance. He whispers sweet things in your ear, while you giggle. It wasn’t something new, this scene had occurred on past occasions, even escalating, but Han and you never dug too deep into it, kisses and casual affairs had once been part of your friendship, and you both were comfortable with that.
He turned you around, looking into your eyes, he placed a small kiss on your forehead, next on the tip of your nose, and your lips. A simple peck. You put your hands around his neck, swaying your hips, throwing your head back, enjoying the moment.
“What you thinking about, pretty?” He whispered against your lips.
“Nothing in particular.” You whisper back.
He pulls you closer, your head against his neck, and his lips leave small kisses on yours. You feel at ease.
Until you open your eyes.
And there he is.
A drink in his hand, he’s looking at you. His eyes burned holes into Jisung’s back. All air escapes your lungs.
“Ji, he’s, he’s here.” You whisper-yelled, your pulse going up.
“What? Chan? Are you sure?”
“Jisung, he’s here.” Your tongue twists and your fists tighten around his clothes, “He’s here, I don’t know what to do, I, I, I’m not ready.”
“Okay, calm down, I’m getting you out of here.” He grabs your hand, quick to push his way through the crowd. You make it out of the place, and the cold air hits you, helping regain your breath. “Okay, give me a second, I’m getting the car, wait here.” You try to protest, but he’s gone before you can.
You stand there, shivering, praying he doesn’t find you, but you smell his cologne before you can even see him.
“I thought you and Jisung were only friends.” His tone is harsh, making you flinch, “Is he the reason you’ve been ignoring me?”
“We are just friends.”
“Friends don’t kiss like that.”
“Yeah? Then what the hell were we doing, Chan? Because we sure as hell were not dating.” Your turned to him.
“Why haven't you answered my texts?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“With him?” Venom spits out of his mouth, he’s way past furious. You know he’s jealous, but that throws you off.
“No, Chan. I have a life out of our little flings, and you know it.”
“So, you are too busy to answer me, but aren’t too busy to come here and throw yourself into Jisung?”
Okay. You are done.
“What do you want me to say, Chan? You have no right to come here and demand an answer. You are not my boyfriend. You and me, we are nothing.”
“That’s a damn lie and you know it.”
“Do I? What are we? Because you made it quite clear, you like me Chan, but you don’t love me.”
“The fact that I don’t like labels, doesn’t...”
“Oh, cry me a fucking river, Christopher. You don’t want me, but you also don’t want anyone else to have me. You are so fucking cruel.” You cried, tired of everything, of him, “I need to move on, I need it. Please, let me go.”
Han's car horn ranged loudly, arriving just in time to save you. “I’ve gotta go. Goodbye, Chris.” Same words as that night, the night he lost you. They ran on Chan’s ears.
He grabbed your hand, tightly, not wanting you to leave, “please, please let’s talk, I don’t want this to end.” Small droplets came out of his eyes, startling you, but you stood your ground.
“Chan, let me go please.” You tugged.
“I don’t want to.” He pulled.
“Don’t make it even harder, please, my heart can’t take it anymore.” You whispered.
“Give me a chance, please. I’m begging you.
“No, Chan. I already know how this will end, and I can’t take it.”
He shook his head, “please.”
...
“Can you promise you will be my boyfriend?” Plain and simple.
“What?” His eyes widened.
“Can you promise to give us a title? No more casual sex? Will you make it official?”
You wait a few seconds, but nothing comes of his mouth, you have an answer.
“Yeah, I knew it. Goodbye, Chris.”
Everything had ended in that second, and you both know it.
#bang chan x reader#bang chan fanfic#bang chan#bang chan angst#bang chan smut#stray kids bang chan#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#stray kids#stray kids angst
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Sauna Syncope b.c
Warnings: MNDI, fluffy smut with just a pinch of plot, oral f receiving, slight overstim, soft dom!chan, passing tf out, touching y/n while unconscious but not sexual, cussing duh. Lightly edited
Synopsis: I saw a TikTok (rip) where someone said that something like this happened in the dark romance she was reading (unfortunately she did not drop the rec). Chan is a munch, and the physical and sexual heat cause y/n to lose consciousness.
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Bang Chan has been traveling for work a lot recently, and even though you understand it's just part of his job and weren’t upset with him by any means, he decided he wanted to “make it up to you” by taking you on a long weekend trip before he has to go back out of town. As it is winter in Korea, he rented out a villa for you guys to have romantic getaway in the snow covered mountains. The day you arrived, you questioned if the location truly mattered at all as you two barely left the bedroom. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and while that might be true, you know for a fact that it makes your lust expand exponentially. Weeks of pent up desire flowing between you. With you both being on different sleep schedules, you end up staying up into the early hours of the next morning for round after round, but they don’t feel like separate events, each flowing seamlessly into each other more like waves of passion and intimacy ebbing and flowing.
It's rare you can get Chan to sleep in late with you; he's such a busy body, always feeling as if something needs to get done. Last night must have exhausted him as much as it did you; although he still woke up before you, the time was on the brink of midday. If you two were home, he’d be flying out of bed rushing to be productive in one way or another, but here, he snuggled up against your sleeping form drinking in your warmth and light snores and sighs. He's committing every moment to memory to get him through his next stint of being apart from you. His tender touch draws patterns over your exposed skin gently rousing you from your slumber. When he notices you stirring, he pets with more force shifting to massaging your arm and shoulder that are sticking out over the duvet attempting to keep you from drifting back to sleep.
“Morning, Babe.” His groggy voice makes your heart flutter. He plants a firm kiss to your forehead before trying to slip out from under the covers and off the bed, but your newly found sentience allows you to sling your arms around his waist to stop him. Your arms are weak due to your sleepy state, but you don’t have to exert any force for him to fold, halting his movements and sliding back next to you giggling. You lay in bed for another half hour snuggling, rubbing, and sharing lazy kisses. He finally gets you to let him go with promises of breakfast for lunch.
After fueling up on food and coffee, you two bundle up, putting on lay after layer before venturing out into the snow. You make a cutesy family of snowmen and toss a few snowballs, but it doesn’t last long as a rogue ball hits you in the chest and explodes in your face. Chan feels so bad, he keeps apologizing and insisting you hit him back, and when you refuse you have to stop him from shoving his face in the snow in your honor.
Before you had left the house, Chan had turned on the sauna to heat up. While playing in the powder was delightful, the frigid air was starting to burn your skin and chill your bones. The warming steam of the spa was calling to you. When you decide to go inside, Chan tells you to go on without him because he needs to quickly send some emails, god forbid he goes a day without doing at least a little work.
After peeling off your wet outer layer and leaving it by the fire to dry, you head back to your room to strip the rest of the way down and put on a robe only to remove it when you get to the steam room, grabbing a small towel before entering. The room is so hot against your chilled skin, it almost stings as you’re defrosted. You find a seat on the wooden bench and practically melt into it. Not only does the radiating heat feel heavenly warming you up but it also helps release any tension or soreness left from yesterday’s salacious acts. The temperature and humidity in the room is so high that it's a little difficult to breathe, but besides that, it's serene, like being swaddled in a cloud. The bench is deep enough to lie down, but you opt for scooting back into it so you can rest your head on the back wall lifting one of your feet and resting it on the edge, stretching your hip just right so that you cant help but let out a sigh. With your head tilted back, you close your eyes and place the small towel over your lids, letting your body go limp and be swallowed by the heated mist. A layer of sweat and condensation starts forming on your skin gathering and falling down in rivulets, but you can't bring yourself to even care to wipe them, so tranquil you don't want to move a muscle. That sentiment remains when you hear the door open and shut; it can only be one person, so you don't bother looking, but when a minute or two go by and he hasn’t said anything, you gather the motivation to raise the towel off an eye to peek for Chan. You find him bare, having discarded his matching robe at the door presumably when he saw your lack of modesty, on his knees in front of you, hunger in his eyes and a loving smirk on his lips.
“You’re a vision, Y/n. My goddess” speaking in a sultry but hushed tone as if he’s just talking to himself, as he reaches forward to grab your hips and pull you to the edge.
He begins his worship by scattering wet kisses on your thighs, his plump lips almost cooling on your hot skin. Working up higher and higher with each kiss, he lingers on the marks he had left on your skin little more than 12 hours earlier. He makes his way to your mound, covering you with more sweet affection.
“Channie” you sign his name. He lets out a soft sound of acknowledgement mixed with a moan, the sound stoking the fire inside. Your inner heat growing to match the external one. He finally plants a sloppy kiss over your clit earning a hiss as you suck in a breath through your teeth.
“Oh, you're so good to me,” praising him.
“It's only what you deserve, Baby” mumbling into your cunt, refusing to remove his lips even to talk. His kisses on and around your sensitive bud become longer and more powerful, eventually switching to gently sucking as he uses his fingers to toy with your entrance, just barely dipping the tip of his index in and out. Instead of continuing with his fingers, Chan moves his tongue to take over for his digit. Licking into your opening, savoring every bit of your arousal. Rubbing his nose over your slick and swollen clit, knowing you go crazy for it. It's not long before you feel your release coming.
“Fuck Baby, I’m gonna…oh” drawing out the last word as your orgasm racks through you. Chan smiles up at you as he continues to lap at your center, face flushed and loose curls sticking to his quickly dampening forehead; you’ll never get over the sight of him between your thighs. He allows his tongue to slow as he eases you down from your high, but he doesn’t pull away. Soon Chan is slowly slipping two fingers into you, inducing a prolonged groan.
“Sounds so pretty, Babe”, his compliment and slow curling of his fingers cause a string of curses to leave your lips as you try to put together a coherent sentence. Between pants you manage to get out,
“Chris… I don't know if I can… again.” You’ve already cum so many times in the past day, it's hard to imagine having another.
“Need me to stop? I just want to make my love feel good” He always takes both your pleasure and concerns very seriously.
“It feels so good” you whine out with your head tossed back.
“Hmm I think you can do it. Just one more, Y/n. For me.” You don’t have to look, you can hear the cheeky smile in his voice. He remains devouring you while working his fingers in perfect time. His soft licks to your clit are sending jolts of pleasure through you, and Chan is loving watching your squirm on his tongue. Volume raising and thighs squeezing around his head, he knows what is coming.
“That's it babe, doing so good”
“Fuuuh,” is all you can get out, shaking and whimpering. The air feels thick, not just with lust, but the steam and heat are starting to get to you. Your breaths are becoming strangled, if you were smart you’d ask for a break to steady your heaving chest, but it feels so unfathomably good and you’re so close to bursting. Chan’s free hand wraps from under your thigh and drags up it before reaching out to interlace your fingers. The tender gesture causes your pounding heart to lurch and send you reeling as you cum yet again shuddering against Chan’s face. Just as the peak passes and relief floods your mind darkness takes over your vision. You don’t have time to panic before you lose consciousness. This wouldn’t be the first time you blacked out from pleasure, but it is the first time you didn’t immediately wake up.
When you gradually come to, the first thing you hear is running water and feel cool water flowing over you. Opening your eyes, you find yourself on the built in granite seat of the shower in the master bathroom.
“Hi Channie,” you whisper, pulling him from his focus as he wiped your body with a soft rag. A sigh of relief escapes his lips.
“Hi my baby. How do you feel?” he asks calmly but with poorly masked concern on his face.
“I’m great. A little sleepy but so happy. How long was I out?” you ask groggily.
“Just long enough for me to get you to the shower, so only a couple of minutes, but it felt like an eternity. I knew you’d be okay once I got your body temp down, but shit, if that wasn’t terrifying.” he says with a bit of a nervous chuckle before continuing,
“No more sauna for you” he commands.
“I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m okay now,” you attempt to rise to your feet, but are met with Chan's strong hands on your shoulder holding you down.
“Sit your ass down. You’re not walking anywhere, at the very least until the end of the day. You might feel fine now, but I'm still making you a doctor’s appointment to get checked out just to make sure nothing is wrong. Now just sit there while I finish washing you. I give you a little show while I get clean to keep you entertained. Then, we’ll go cuddle and watch something, yeah?” he asks as if you have a choice.
You spend the rest of the vacation trying to convince him that you truly are totally fine, and while he says he believes you, he is still doting on you even more than usual.
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A.n- thanks for reading :) if you saw me post this earlier, no you didn’t. V sad about the tt ban. Where am I supposed to watch edits now?
-mo ❄️
Masterlist
#skz#stray kids#skz x reader#skz fanfic#bang chan stray kids#skz smut#bang chan#bang chan smut#bang chan fluff#bang chan fanfic#bang chan skz#stray kids bang chan#skz fluff#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you#stray kids fluff
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01. sharing a bed series ; skz ; chan
masterlist.
sharing a bed series part 1/8. because it's the cheesiest most classic trope and it's FUN. -
pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. chan's baby girl agenda. accidental boners, horny embarrassed reader. chan is a tease n a dork. :)
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You let yourself into Chan’s room, expecting to find him awake and working despite the hour. Whenever you sleep over, your friend is more than happy to let you sleep in his bed when you can’t get comfy on the couch. Many nights have passed that way, nestled under his blankets and falling asleep to his typing and clicking and absent-minded humming. He likes to work through his nights so you sleep until morning then leave when he turns in.
He must have been tired tonight. His laptop is shut, the room dark save for the flickering lights of his computer station. Chan is in bed already, laying with his back to you and the blankets tucked around him. He is so sound asleep that he didn’t hear your gentle knocks.
You feel bad for disturbing him now. Commandeering his bed is a little different when he is already in it.
You turn to leave when the blankets rustle behind you. Chan’s groggy voice breaks through the silence, a raspy, “Baby girl? That you?”
Maybe it’s the cold floor under your bare feet, maybe it’s the late hour, or maybe it’s the roughness in his voice, but despite how many times Chan has playfully and affectionately called you baby girl, this time a little shiver brushes up your spine.
You turn back around, wrapping your arms around yourself. Thanks to the faint light from his work area, you can see Chan clearly even in the dark. He has rolled onto his back and is rubbing a hand over his face.
“Sorry, Channie,” you whisper. “You sleep. It’s fine.”
His blanket slips down his bare chest and he drops his arm, looking at you with crinkled, sleepy eyes. His curly hair is an endearing mess, though your eyes go a little lower when the blanket falls to his waistline. You quickly look away from his abdomen to his sleepy eyes. He squints at you as he adjusts to the darkness.
“Everything all right?” he asks, still groggy.
“Yeah, don’t worry,” you say, as if that has ever stopped Chan from worrying anyway.
He is a little more awake now, his brow pinching as he looks at you. All at once his face goes slack with realization. A smile pushes at his dimples.
“Right,” he says. “The couch sucks, yeah? Sorry, wasn’t thinking—”
“Don’t apologize,” you say with a little laugh. “It’s your bed.”
“Auuggh,” he says with faux-agony, “I’m such a bad host.”
You cannot hide your amusement, smiling when he slaps a melodramatic hand over his heart. As usual, the goofball makes himself giggle with his dumb little theatrics, the sound twinkling in its delight. Your heart skips a beat.
“All right,” he says. “No worries. Big bed. You wanna share?”
It isn’t really a question because he doesn’t wait for an answer, flipping open the covers for you to slide in.
When you step towards the bed, he throws up a cautionary hand and laughs again.
“Sorry, uh, just wait one second,” he says. “I’m not, uh, technically decent.”
Your eyes drop again. The blankets only just reach his hips and when he shifts to get out of bed, it becomes abundantly clear that Chan is completely naked under the covers. You very nearly choke on your own spit, swallowing hard as your frantic eyes dart around his body.
He is seemingly oblivious to your startled state, turning his back to you as he steps out of the bed. The sheet slips smoothly off his body.
You spin around to give him some privacy. This plan fails spectacularly as his closet door is a big mirror and you end up looking at him through it.
He is nonchalant, walking up to his dresser. You know you shouldn’t stare but you do, eyes on the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his arms, going down his sturdy back to his ass where you linger a beat longer, then diving down his strong thighs until the view is blocked by his bed. You watch him step into a pair of boxers, doing a little jump before snapping the band around his hips. He turns around and you quickly close your eyes, grateful he cannot hear your heart going a mile a minute.
“All right,” he says pleasantly. “All good now. Come on.”
He gets in the bed first and holds it open for you. He is smiling so sweetly and you feel like the world’s nastiest, horniest monster, gawping at him as you stumble to the bed. You try not to think about how he was naked between these sheets just moments ago.
Somehow, you slide into the bed without making a huge fool of yourself. You even manage to settle down, albeit stiffly. So stiffly that Chan notices and laughs again, that same bubbly giggle as he reaches out to tweak your nose.
“Y’okay?” he asks, his bare face so open and sweet that you melt with both affection and embarrassment.
“Mhm,” you lie. Your heart skips another beat when your leg brushes his under the covers.
“C’mere, silly,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you across the bed. You go with a squeak of surprise, planting your face in his bare chest. “Better?” he asks.
“Mmmhf.”
It requires some manoeuvring, but you do get semi-comfortable. It is difficult to feel completely at ease when you are also lit up like a firework, very aware of all the places your body is touching his. Your faces are close, your hand on his chest, his hand on your hip. And something else is uncomfortably lodged between your lower halves—
Your mouth rushes ahead of your brain and you say, “Wait, what’s that?”
As if you think he dropped something in the bed between you.
As if that could be anything but his dick.
His startled expression speaks volumes. His nervous, flustered laugh says even more. You have to physically restrain yourself from digging a hole through the bed to die inside.
In your marginal defense, why would you expect Chan to be sporting a semi for no apparent reason? Your shorts are pretty short and you have nothing on under your little tank top, but what sort of crazy wishful thinking is that? That Chan reciprocates all your horny pining?
You suppose there is some hard evidence. So to speak.
“Sorry,” he says, his hand lifting away from your waist. “I didn’t, uh, sorry, wanna make you feel—”
“Oh, no, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” you say quickly. You feel so, so hot, and you aren’t sure if it’s embarrassment or desire. At any rate, it makes you even stupider. “It’s all good,” you say. “I like it!”
I like it???
He is clearly computing that, looking more confused than embarrassed now.
“You… like it,” he says slowly.
“What I mean by that,” you say, “is that I… like… it.” Nice recovery.
“I see.” He looks amused now, his dimples deepening. “That clarifies things. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Any time.”
“You look a little embarrassed,” he says, touching your chin to tilt your face up to his. It forces you to look directly at him as he studies your expression. His intensity makes thinking of a response impossible. He smiles all-too knowingly at you. “C’mon,” he says, his voice a little lower. “It’s just me, baby girl. You don’t have to be shy.”
Uh oh, you think, looking at his alarmingly competent smoulder, Chan might be secretly evil.
Maybe not secretly. And maybe too affectionate to be pure evil. But he holds your chin and guides your face, turning it away so he can kiss your cheek. Your eyes close and you fight a moan, because moaning at a cheek peck would just be ridiculous.
Then he kisses a spot a little lower on your jaw, then below your ear. His tongue flicks at the shell of your ear at the same time his hand slides under the covers to cup your hip again. You let yourself moan this time, a sweet little hum that he returns when you press yourself closer to him. You feel his dick twitch in his boxers, practically demanding your attention. You let your hand drift downward.
“Can’t believe you’re secretly evil,” you murmur, making him laugh. “Don’t laugh. You are. I hate you.”
“Really?” he says, with all the cockiness of a man who already knows the answer. He doesn’t wait for it, his hand swiftly moving to cup you between your legs. His knuckle rubs softly against your pussy, so hot and wet that he can undoubtedly feel it through the fabric. “Sorry, baby,” he says, very unserious, “but I don’t think all of you hates me.”
“Mean, mean, mean—”
He can’t help but giggle at you, somewhat juxtaposed to the way he is rubbing you through your clothes.
“Damn,” he says, a breathy sound. You are panting against his open mouth already. “Need it bad, don’t you, baby? Who did this to you?”
“Some mean tease,” you say. “Been into him all this time and he never did a thing.”
“What a fucking idiot.”
“Mhm.”
“His loss.”
You both have a stupid little giggle before you finally touch him in return. His breath catches.
Your mouths are close, so close that it makes your clit throb under his knuckle, so close that he is straining the material of his boxers. His hand jumps up, leaving you torturously bereft, but then he slides that hand into your shorts to touch you directly. He kisses you at the same time, swallowing down all your sweet sounds as he licks into your mouth.
“I got you,” he says, a lovely sentiment that is followed by a very hot, filthy lick into your mouth. He moans into it, then kisses you nicely. “I always got you.”
Your hand stutters to a stop because he has you close, so close, so quickly. Your orgasm washes over you with unexpected swiftness, your whole body arching against his as you come.
“That’s it,” he says, his hand steady as he brings you over. “That’s my girl. Got you.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. You think about all those cozy nights you spent snuggled up in this spot, the way Chan worries about you no matter what you say, his thoughtfulness and attentiveness and protectiveness.
I got you.
Knowing it’s true, you smile and kiss his smile in return.
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You Faint | Bang Chan
ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader
ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,
ᑉ³warnings; Fainting due to Dehydration and being busy, mentions of not eating, mentions of not drinking water, kissing, Implied Female reader, Established relationship
ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!
Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin
In the flurry of your responsibilities as a personal assistant to the CEO of a massive corporation, every second counts, every task critical to the smooth functioning of the business. Despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach and the parched feeling in your throat, you soldier on, driven by the need to ensure that everything operates seamlessly for your employer.
Hours blur together as you navigate the demands of the corporate world, your own needs pushed to the sidelines in the relentless pursuit of success. The weight of expectations presses down on you with each passing moment, propelling you forward even as exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you. You don't have time to notice the way your limbs grow heavy with fatigue, the world around you fading into a distant blur as you push yourself beyond your limits.
But as the day wears on, your body begins to rebel against the neglect it's been subjected to. Dizziness clouds your vision, a warning sign of the toll the day's exertions have taken. With every step, your limbs grow heavier, protesting against the punishing pace you've been maintaining.
And then, without warning, it all becomes too much. Your vision blurs, black spots dancing at the edges as dizziness overwhelms your senses. Your knees buckle beneath you, unable to support the weight of your weakened body, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, darkness claims you.
As consciousness slowly seeps back into your awareness, you find yourself nestled on the plush couch of the CEO's office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Your head throbs with the remnants of your fainting spell, a dull ache echoing through your skull.
Blinking groggily, you glance around the room, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. To your surprise, you find yourself surrounded by two or three other assistants, their faces etched with concern as they hover nearby, murmuring amongst themselves.
"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asks, her voice laced with worry as she kneels beside you, her hand hovering over your forehead. "You gave us quite a scare there."
You nod weakly, the events of the day slowly coming back to you in fragmented pieces. "I... I think so," you mumble, your words slurred with exhaustion.
The other assistants exchange worried glances, their concern palpable in the air. "You should rest for a bit," another assistant suggests, her tone gentle as she helps you sit up, offering you a glass of water.
Taking a sip, you feel the cool liquid soothe your parched throat, the sensation a welcome relief. As you lean back against the cushions, you're grateful for the support of your colleagues, their presence a comforting reminder that you're not alone in your struggles.
"Thanks," you murmur, offering them a weak smile. "I appreciate it."
"We were so worried about you," one of them says, her voice filled with genuine concern. "You gave us quite the scare."
You offer a weak smile, still feeling disoriented and unsure of what happened. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your words barely audible.
Another assistant nods sympathetically. "We called for help," she explains gently. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."
You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Called for help." you repeat, the words sinking in slowly.
Your mind feels foggy, memories hazy and fragmented, making it difficult to grasp the severity of the situation. The concern in the assistant's eyes only adds to your growing sense of unease, prompting a knot of anxiety to tighten in your chest.
Before anyone can elaborate further, the door to the CEO's office swings open, and Chan rushes in, his expression a mix of panic and relief. "I got here as fast as I could," he says breathlessly, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. "Are you okay? What happened?"
You swallow hard, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. They called Chan, your emergency contact, before they even called the paramedics. You feel a pang of guilt knowing that he's here now, worrying about you, when you hadn't wanted to burden him.
As Chan rushes to your side, his expression a mix of relief and concern, you can see the worry etched into every line of his face. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to grasp yours, his touch both reassuring and desperate.
"I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I fainted, I think."
Chan's eyes widen with alarm, his grip on your hand tightening. "You fainted?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. Chan's concern deepens, his brows furrowing with worry. "Do you know why?" he asks gently. "Did you eat today? Drink enough water?"
You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the guilt of neglecting your own well-being weighing heavily on you. "I... I may have forgotten," you admit sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.
His expression softens with understanding, but a flicker of frustration dances in his eyes. "Y/N.."
"I just didn't have time," you whine, feeling the weight of his disappointment settle over you. "I have deadlines to meet, and it's been really busy here with the CEO prepping for a major partnership with another company. Plus, I'm in line for a promotion, Chan. If I do well, it's almost guaranteed. But if I fail, then I have no shot."
Chan's expression doesn’t give much away, but his resolve remains firm. "It's not that important," he insists, his tone gentle but firm. "There will always be other opportunities. Your health should come first."
You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Not everyone can lead and be super talented like you, Chan," you argue, your voice tinged with emotion. "Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up."
"I know it feels that way," he says gently, as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. "You're already doing more than enough," he assures you, his gaze unwavering. "But your health should never be sacrificed for success."
You sigh, feeling the weight of his words settling over you. "I know," you whisper, your voice heavy with resignation.
Chan's hums at your response, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before he reluctantly withdraws. "Let's go home," he says gently, " You need rest."
With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch, your legs trembling beneath you as the full extent of your exhaustion becomes apparent. Chan's eyes widen in concern as he notices your struggle, his expression softening with empathy.
"Here, let me help you," he says, moving to your side and slipping an arm around your waist for support.
You lean into him gratefully, feeling the warmth of his embrace. With Chan's steadying presence, you manage to make your way out of the CEO's office and towards the elevator, your fatigue pressing down on you with each step.
As you reach the lobby, Chan guides you towards the exit, but when you attempt to take a step forward, your legs buckle beneath you, weakened by fatigue. Chan's eyes widen in alarm, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he catches you before you fall.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.
You nod weakly, feeling embarrassed by your inability to stand on your own two feet. "I'm just... really tired," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.
Without hesitation, Chan sweeps you up into his arms, his strength a reassuring presence against your exhausted frame. "Let's get you home," he says softly, his voice filled with tenderness.
You nestle into his embrace, feeling safe and secure in his arms as he carries you out of the building and towards the waiting car.
Once you're settled into the car, Chan drives you home with careful attention, his concern never wavering as he steals glances at you from time to time. When you finally arrive at your apartment, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, his arm wrapped protectively around you.
As you enter the cozy sanctuary of your home, Chan guides you towards the couch. However, he senses your hesitation, the way you lean heavily on him as if struggling to keep your balance.
"You need to rest," he insists softly, his voice laced with concern as he helps you settle onto the cushions. Despite his gentle urging, you remain silent, the weariness evident in every line of your body.
"I feel gross," you finally murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, admitting to the discomfort that weighs heavily on you.
Chan's brows furrow with worry, his gaze searching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. Seeing your distress, he nods in understanding.
"Would you like to take a shower?" he suggests gently, his tone filled with empathy. He waits patiently for your response, ready to provide the support and comfort you need
You shake your head slowly, a feeling of exhaustion washing over you. "I don't think I have the energy," you confess, feeling a pang of guilt at the admission.
Chan's expression fills with empathy as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "That's okay," he reassures you, his voice soft and comforting. "Why don't we start with something smaller? Like washing your hair?"
You blink back tears, starting to feel overwhelmed. "I just... I feel so drained," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.
Chan nods sympathetically, his gaze filled with compassion. "I understand," he says softly, his words a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay?
As Chan helps you make your way to the bathroom, you feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at your limbs. With his steady support, you settle on the edge of the bathtub, feeling drained and weak. Chan kneels beside you, his gentle hands reaching for the shower head. His concerned gaze meeting yours.
"Lean back," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet bathroom. You obey, allowing your head to rest against the edge of the tub as Chan pours the water over your hair, the liquid cascading down in a comforting stream.
The sensation of the warm water against your scalp is both soothing and revitalizing, washing away the weariness that has settled deep within your bones. Chan's touch is tender, his fingers massaging your scalp with care as he works shampoo into your hair, creating a rich lather that fills the air with a subtle scent of eucalyptus.
As Chan tenderly tends to your needs, a wave of helplessness crashes over you, leaving you feeling small and useless. The inability to perform even the simplest tasks on your own gnaws at you, a constant reminder of your vulnerability. You watch as Chan effortlessly takes care of everything, his competence highlighting your own shortcomings.
A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you struggle to suppress the rising tide of frustration and self-doubt. "I hate feeling like this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the bitterness of inadequacy.
"Like what?" Chan's voice is gentle, his concern evident as he seeks to understand you.
"Helpless," you confess, the word heavy with emotion.
Chan notices the heaviness in your sigh and the sorrow in your eyes, and his heart aches with empathy. Leaning closer, he places a soft kiss on your lips.
"You're not helpless, love," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You're just taking a break. Everyone needs a little help sometimes, even superheroes like you."
His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with love and understanding.
"You're my baby," he whispers, "And I'll always be here to take care of you, no matter what."
As Chan rinses the shampoo from your hair, the water running clear and pure, you feel a sense of renewal wash over you. With each gentle stroke of his hands, you can feel your energy slowly returning, a flicker of hope igniting within your chest.
When the task is finally complete, Chan reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your shoulders with care. He helps you to stand, guiding you away from the bathtub.
"Let's dry your hair a bit so you don't go to bed with it wet," he suggests, his lips forming a shy smile. He grabs a hairdryer, carefully adjusting the settings before starting to blow dry your hair, the warm air a comforting embrace against your skin.
As he works, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, the sound of the hairdryer a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Chan concentrates intently, his brow furrowing as he focuses on the task at hand. His brow furrows in concentration, his lips pursed in determination as he attempts to weave the strands of your hair into a braid. With each failed attempt, a mixture of frustration and amusement flickers across his features, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.
You can't help but find his earnest efforts endearing, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you watch him work. The sound fills the small bathroom, mingling with the gentle patter of water droplets.
"Where did you learn to braid?" you ask, genuine curiosity in your tone.
Chan looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I've been teaching myself," he admits, his fingers still fumbling with the strands of your hair. "I thought... one day, when we have kids together, I want to be able to braid their hair. I want to be the kind of dad who can do that."
His vulnerability touches your heart, and you reach out to gently squeeze his hand, a tender smile playing on your lips. "You'll be an amazing dad," you assure him, your voice filled with love and admiration. "And you're already an amazing partner."
"I want to be better,"he says softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For you."
He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips are soft against yours. As he pulls away, his eyes shimmering with adoration, he presses another tender kiss to your forehead before returning to his task.
"You did great," Chan whispers, his voice filled with pride and admiration, as he guides you to your bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, comforting light across the room as he fusses over you, fluffing pillows and tucking blankets around you until you're cocooned in warmth.
With gentle hands, he arranges the pillows behind you, ensuring you're propped up just right for maximum comfort. He tucks the blankets snugly around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring as he ensures every corner is tucked in securely.
After making sure you're settled, Chan disappears into the kitchen, the faint clinking of dishes drifting through the air as he prepares your meal. Moments later, he returns with a tray laden with food – a simple yet nourishing meal, prepared with love.
The aroma of home-cooked food fills the room, mingling with the soft scent of freshly laundered sheets. Chan sets the tray down on your bedside table, arranging the dishes with care before settling in beside you.
As you eat, Chan sits close by, his warmth radiating beside you. He regales you with stories and jokes, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy and ease. Each tale is punctuated by his infectious laughter, and despite your weariness, you can't help but smile at his antics.
As you finish your meal, feeling the warmth of the food spreading through your body, Chan rises from his seat beside you, his movements fluid and graceful as he clears away the dishes. The clinking of plates and silverware fills the air as he tidies up, his attention to detail evident in every gesture.
Once the dishes are cleared, Chan returns to your side, settling in beside you on the bed. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, soothing away the remnants of tension that linger in your muscles.
With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. Chan presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch a silent reassurance that everything will be okay.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. As he speaks, he guides your hand to his chest, letting you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath his shirt.
"Every time you're in pain or in danger," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like my whole world stops."
You feel a lump form in your throat, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "It wasn't on purpose."
Chan shakes his head, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go. "I know," he says softly. "But I need you to promise me something."
"What?" you ask.
"Promise me that you'll always try your best to care of yourself," he says, his tone earnest. "Promise me that you won't push yourself too hard, that you'll listen to your body and prioritize your health."
You meet his gaze, seeing the depth of his concern reflected in his eyes. With a nod, you offer him a small smile, filled with gratitude and determination.
"I promise," you vow, your voice steady with conviction.
Chan's eyes soften, a tender smile playing on his lips. "And I promise in return," he says softly, "to always be there when you need me, or a little extra help."
He settles back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you're both comfortable. As you nestle into each other, Chan reaches for the remote control, flicking through the channels until he finds a movie that catches your interest.
The soft glow of the TV bathes the room in a warm, flickering light as the movie begins to play. You rest your head against Chan's chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat getting faster beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of the love and stability that he brings into your life.
As the movie unfolds, you lose yourself in the story, the worries and stresses of the day fading into the background. With Chan by your side, you feel safe and at peace, cocooned in a bubble of love and warmth.
ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo
#stray kids smau#skz smau#skz texts#stray kids#straykids x you#stray kids ff#straykids angst#skz imagines#straykids fluff#skz#skz x reader#bang chan#lee felix#lee know#minho#changbin#jeongin#seungmin#hyunjin#fainting#bangchan#chan x reader#christopher bang#chan x you#chan x y/n#stayville
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☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡
♱ ━━━ PAIRING: BANG CHAN X READER ♱ ━━━ CW: CNC, SEX FANTASY, ROLEPLAY (INTRUDER & VICTIM), SEXTING, DEGRADING, PRAISE, ORAL (M. REC), FACIAL, PUSSY SLAP, MIRROR SEX, DYCRYPHILIA, HAIR PULLING, MIRROR SEX, RECORDING, FINGERING, MANHANDLING, CHOKING, SPANKING, UNPROTECTED SEX, FEAR PLAY, “NO” IS SAID BUT IS NOT A SAFEWORD, CLIT PLAY, MULTIPLE ROUNDS, CREAMPIES (2), AFTERCARE ♱ ━━━ WC: 2.6K ♱ ━━━ NOTE: ♱ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog
Chan sighed as he looked at the text message. He truly did spoil his girlfriend, but he loved doing it. He always gave in to what she wanted since she knew she’d only ask if she really wanted it. If his princess wanted him to fuck her dressed like a serial killer, he would.
He worked for another hour before packing up and heading home to his girlfriend. Almost forgetting about the conversation till he walked through the door to their apartment. Being greeted by his very happy girlfriend wrapping her arms around him. “Hi, handsome.”
“Hi princess,” Chan greeted as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pecked her lips.
“When’s the mask coming?” She asked, bouncing a little in her place as he slipped his shoes off and set his bag down
“End of the week.”
“And you’re off this weekend?”
Chan saw the little light in her eyes as he trapped her in his arms and walked her back to the couch, “Depends.”
“Chris,” Y/n whined before he laid her on the couch and laid on top of her.
The Aussie chuckled and leaned up to peck her lips. “How about you tell me how you imagine me fucking you in the mask would go and then I’ll decide if I go in and work this weekend.”
Y/n smiled at the mischievous look in his eyes.
Chan did go into the studio. Briefly mentioned to his girlfriend that Changbin and Han needed his help for a track. Promising to be back as soon as he could. Y/n pouted as he kissed her in the kitchen before he headed out the door. She knew damn well he’d be getting home late, knowing how those three always getting sidetracked when they were working together.
But it couldn’t be helped. She went on about her day, checking in on her boyfriend every so often and reminding him— and the other two— to eat at meal times. Y/n did some chores she had to do around the house and ran a couple of errands she had to do. Getting home before it got dark. Making dinner and an extra plate for Chan for whenever he came home.
Y/n wound up in bed not long after, the TV in their bedroom playing as she waited for him to come home and cuddle. Y/n checked her phone. No messages about coming home yet. Probably deep in his work, normal.
11:48 pm
He’d worked late but not this late. She sat up in bed and unlocked her phone. Opening up their messages and texting him.
Y/n: Coming Home soon? 🥺 Channie💕: sorry Princess. This track is a lot more work than we thought. We’re trying to fix a few things. I’ll let you know when I leave. You don't have to wait for me, baby. Get some sleep. I’ll be there when you wake up 💕 Y/n: Mmmm want to fall asleep in your arms though
Y/n sighed as she looked up from her phone and caught a glance in their free-standing mirror. She smiled and got out of bed. Tossing off her sleep shorts and underwear before sitting in front of the mirror in one of his zip-up hoodies. Unzipping it almost all the way down, just covering her lower half
Channie💕: I know Princess 😖 I’m sorry but you know I won't be able to sleep if we don't fix this Y/n: But I won't be able to sleep without you [1 photo] Please, baby 🥺 Channie💕: Princess My baby looks so good in just my sweater Y/n: think I’d look better under you, getting split open on your cock. Channie💕: Yeah? Can you show Daddy that pretty pussy?
Y/n smiled and leaned back, taking her legs out from under her, and planting her feet on the floor. She unzipped the sweater fully so her wet folds were in perfect view of the mirror and camera. The sweater fell off her shoulder as well, exposing one of her boobs as well.
Y/n: [1 photo] Channie💕: Been touching yourself, Princess? Your soaked Y/n: No Daddy. Just thinking of you Channie💕: Maybe Daddy should come home and help you out then Y/n: Please🥺🥺 Channie💕: Give me an hour and I’ll be home princess😉 Y/n: Channnnniiiieee
Y/n waited for a response but nothing. She sighed and locked her phone, finally looking up in their mirror just for her mouth to get covered by a black gloved hand, white scream mask behind her. Their purple LED lights reflected off the mask.
Y/n squirmed in his hold and closed her legs, trying to save some dignity as she grabbed the arm that was covering her mouth dropping her phone on the floor. The masked man behind her pulled her legs open, “Don't want to keep ‘em open? Didn't have a problem showing off earlier.” he chuckled, gloved hand slapping her clit a few times.
Y/n tried arching away but he had a tight grip on her jaw. Making her look straight ahead in the mirror. Y/n closed her eyes as he massaged her clit, trying not to moan.
“Open your eyes,” the man growled and slapped the inside of her thigh.
Y/n screamed into his hand and opened her eyes, tears pricking her lash line. “Good girl,” He cooed, covered fingers running between her wet folds.
Y/n clenched as his fingers teased her hole, hoping she could keep him out if she clenched hard enough. She heard him tsk before he pulled his hand away and stood up behind her, letting go of her jaw. She turned her body to crawl past him and escape but he was quick to grab the hair on top of her head and kept her in place. The white mask looked down at her as he pressed her mouth against his clothed crotch. Y/n grabbed the ripped fabric of his jeans as his hard cock was pressed against her mouth.
She could feel him smiling under the mask and use his free hand to unbutton his jeans. Pulling her away to unzip and pull his hard dick out. Y/n tried pulling away from him but he had a tight grip on her hair. “Open up.” He tapped the red leaky tip against them.
Y/n pressed her lips in a tight line in protest He yanked her head back, Y/n letting out a pained moan as her jaw fell open in the process. Giving him the perfect chance to shove himself down her throat. Y/n gagged as his tip quickly hit the back of her throat, the built-up tears falling down her cheeks.
“See? Not that hard, is it?” He chuckled behind his masks, hand keeping her pressed down on him
Y/n hummed to disagree but that did get across. Rather, the man moaned as her throat vibrated against his tip. Pulling his hips back and thrusting back into her mouth. Y/n gripped the frayed fabric of his jeans as he held her still for him to use. A tight grip on her hair that wouldn't let her pull away.
Forcing her to look up at him as he used her mouth. His free hand reached behind him and pulled a phone out. Her eyes went wide as she tried to protest. Whines went unheard as he pointed the camera at her. Switching to moving her head up and down rather than thrusting into her mouth.
Y/n whined as she tried to push against him only for his whole shaft to be shoved down her throat. Watching his head tilt back before he pulled her off him. Y/n coughed as she caught her breath just for him to laugh at her. Pulling her back down and fucking her throat again. Y/n whined in protest which made him moan.
Pulling out of her as he felt himself starting to cum. Some of the semen caught in her mouth while the rest landed on her face. Y/n’s jaw hung open as she closed her eyes, waiting for him to finish
“Good slut,” He said as he put the phone away and all but pushed her back onto the ground. Getting down on his knees between her legs. Y/n tried backing up but she should’ve known better now.
He grabbed her legs and turned her on her stomach. A harsh smack landed on her ass and made her jump before her lower half was lifted.
“Look at this pretty cunt,” he said behind her. Y/n felt him spread her folds then two fingers pushing into her. “All nice and warm.”
Y/n whined and covered her mouth with her boyfriend's sweater sleeves as he quickly pushed his fingers in and out of her. Whining into the cloth as more tears rolled down her face. Thumb moving to rub her clit. Trying her best to ignore his fingers spreading her out. Walls clenched around them as he worked her clit. Gloved fingers curled into her walls as she felt him lean over her back.
Grabbing her hands away from her mouth and pinning them in front of her on the floor. “Don't need to hide how good it feels. Having someone fuck your tight cunt open.”
“It doesn't,” Y/n whined
“No? Maybe another finger will help.”
A third finger entered her before she could protest. A moan left her as her walls spread to accommodate the additional girth. Biting her bottom lip, resting her head against the bedroom floor. The knot in her stomach tightened the more the little bud between her legs was stimulated. Small broken pleas went unheard as they were said into the floor.
Her walls clenched around his fingers more and more. Her hips bucked as she was getting closer. Trying not to let the pleasure take over and beg to cum. Not wanting to give that satisfaction. He got it anyway as she let out a loud moan into the carpet and came around his fingers.
“Feel better now?” He chuckled as his fingers left her. Y/n felt his hand leave her wrist and she daringly looked up a her mirror while she was barely coming out of her high. She saw him up higher on his knees and spreading her cheeks. Feeling his tip sink into her had her trying to get away again, begging him not to.
“Take it out, please! I don’t—“
“Who said you could make orders?” he barked and yanked her head up. Cock sank into her in one thrust.
“Cock sleeves don’t talk,” He growled as he watched her jaw fall open. Walls made way for his thick length.
“‘M not—“
Y/n cried as another slap landed on her ass. Effectively cutting her off.
“Don’t act all innocent. You were whoring yourself out earlier. All wet and desperate for a dick inside you.”
The masked man pushed her back on the floor and held her down. Hand on the back of her throat as he started pistoning himself in and out of her.
Y/n caught a glimpse of him leaning over her as he pounded into her. Whining with each hit. Still, uselessly, trying to get away from his grip. Each time she attempted she was met with a hard spank that made her jump.
“Maybe we should send that little video out. Let your boyfriend know he’s dating a whore.”
“No!”
“Then stop squirming.”
Y/n whimpered as she lay on the ground, seeing a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. Then he moved his hand from the back of her neck to the front and lifted her head. Making her look in the mirror again.
Warm tears ran down her cheeks as his thrusting grew more erratic. Phone camera pointed at the mirror, capturing every movement and reaction.
“Gonna fill this little cunt up,” He groaned behind her
“Please, pull out!” Y/n cried
“Mhm? Want me to fill you up?” He questioned, not hearing the last part.
“No! Pull out please!”
He buried himself in her and filled her sensitive cunt up. Cries left her lips as he dropped her head back to the floor. Y/n looked at him through the mirror. Hips pressed against her ass as he emptied himself inside her.
He pulled out after he was for sure finished and spread her folds apart. The camera captured his cum dripping out of her before he flipped her over onto her back. Pulling her legs over his hips as she tried to cover herself.
“Haven’t learned yet, slut?” he asked, slapping her thigh and tearing her hand away from her cunt, and running his thumb over her clit.
“No more!” Y/n whined, grabbing his wrist
“You can handle it,” He answered as he dropped the phone and slid back into her.
Y/n moaned as he filled her up again. The masked man chuckled as he rubbed her clit again, feeling her clench around him from the stimulation. Y/n could feel him getting harder inside her while she tried to push him away. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them down against her chest. Adjusting himself to thrust into her again. Her whines turned into moans as she tried to pull her hands away.
The man hummed as he pressed harder on her clit. Watching her body jerk through the eyes of the mask. No longer trying to squirm away or protest. “There we go,” he chuckled, “Poor slut just needed her clit touched again.”
“Not… a slut,” Y/n said through her tears.
“Sure feels like you are.”
His speed picked up again, leaning over her body. More moans fell out of her mouth as he rubbed the little bud faster. Feeling her walls contract around his length again, her body jolting ever so slightly. Soon enough she was covering him in her orgasm, arching off the ground and crashing back down. The masked man let go of her wrists but kept his thumb on her clit. Working himself inside of her to another orgasm. Dick twitched inside her as all her words died in her throat from the overstimulation.
A groan left his throat as he came inside her again. Pushing a second load deep inside her. Stopping his movement on her clit and laying both his hands next to her head, leaning over her body.
After a moment, Chan took off the movie mask and set it to the side. Tossing the gloves off next before running a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.
“You okay baby girl?” He asked
“Mhmm,” Y/n nodded, a smile on her face.
“Sleepy now?” Chan asked as he pressed a kiss to her neck
“Yeah,” Y/n answered
“Stay awake for me long enough to get you cleaned up? Then we can go to sleep, have a lazy day tomorrow?” Chan suggested
“Sounds nice,” Y/n said
“Okay, princess. I’m gonna pull out then we're gonna take a bath.”
Y/n nodded as Chan gently pulled out of her. Y/n made a small whine before he sat her up and pulled his jacket off her. Helping her into their bathroom and setting her on the toilet while he started the bath.
Leaving momentarily to grab her clothes and coming back. Filling up the tub before gently placing her in the warm water and getting behind her. Washing her body and leaving little kisses and praise in her skin.
“Feel okay princess?”
“Just tired,” She grumbled
“Hmm. Can you turn around so I can wash your face?”
Y/n slowly turned around to face him as Chan cleaned her skin and rinsed it off before letting her fall against his chest.
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