#chris bang angst

[skzophreniic]

Miss Possessive

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 when someone else eyes your man at the Fendi afterparty

featuring: Christopher Bahng x AFAB reader

warnings: suggestive

notes: kinda late but idc lol. inspired by Miss Possessive by Tate McCrae.

The Fendi afterparty was in full swing—golden lights reflecting off champagne glasses, designer-clad elites laughing too loud, music thrumming beneath the conversations of Hollywood’s most coveted faces. It was the kind of place where power hummed in the air, where influence was measured in glances and whispers.

Chris had his arm around your waist, his fingers tracing mindless patterns against the silk of your dress. He was effortlessly charming, flashing that dimpled smile at executives and fellow artists alike, his Australian lilt melting smoothly into conversation. You loved him like this—glowing, confident, in his element.

His eyes light up when he spots somebody in the distance, his grip loosening on your hip.

“Gonna go say hi to someone real quick,” Chris murmured close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Come with me?”

You glanced up at him, catching the excitement in his expression. He lived for moments like this—connecting, networking, floating effortlessly through rooms filled with people who mattered. And you loved seeing him like this, loved knowing how easily he fit into this world.

But right now? You weren’t in the mood to entertain small talk.

“You go ahead,” you said, offering a small smile. “I’ll wait here.”

Chris hesitated for a fraction of a second, his fingers grazing your side like he was debating whether to push. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave your waist one last squeeze before slipping away, weaving through the crowd with an ease that came naturally to him.

You swirled the champagne in your glass, watching from a distance as Chris greeted the man with an easy smile, his shoulders relaxed, his charm effortless. He was always like this at events—engaging, magnetic, impossible to ignore.

And neither was she.

Standing just a little too close to the man Chris was talking to, her arm looped loosely through his, yet her gaze was fixed elsewhere. Fixed on Chris.

You noticed it immediately—the way her lashes fluttered as she watched him, the way her lips curved, not in polite acknowledgment but something softer, something indulgent. She was interested. Not in the man beside her, the one she was presumably here with, but in yours.

The realization settled over you like ice water, sharp and immediate. You’d seen this before—too many times, in too many rooms just like this. Women who thought their status or their beauty somehow made them untouchable, that their interest was a gift, not an intrusion.

She wasn’t even trying to be discreet about it.

You stayed quiet, simply watching, your expression unreadable as Chris continued his conversation, seemingly oblivious. He laughed at something the man said, dimples flashing, and you didn’t miss the way her lips parted slightly, like she was already imagining what it would be like to taste that smile.

Bold.

Your fingers curled around the stem of your glass, the cool surface grounding you. You weren’t the type to make a scene, weren’t the type to claw at Chris’s arm like a warning. Your confidence ran deeper than that.

Chris, as if sensing your gaze, glanced over his shoulder then, his expression softening when he saw you. His eyes lingered, and for a moment, the entire party seemed to fade into background noise.

Then, just as quickly, he was saying his goodbyes, excusing himself from the conversation. You didn’t miss the way she watched him go, her lips pressing together like she was debating something.

Too late.

Chris was already making his way back to you, his attention exactly where it should be. Where it had always been.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low as he slipped an arm around your waist again, reclaiming the space that had never been hers to take.

You let out a quiet hum, lifting your glass to your lips, your gaze flickering past him for only a second—long enough to see her still watching, her expression carefully composed but not nearly careful enough.

Chris followed your gaze, and something in his expression shifted. Understanding dawned, slow and steady, before amusement danced in his eyes. He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head as he turned back to you.

“You know,” he murmured, leaning in so only you could hear, “you don’t have to pretend you’re not annoyed.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Who said I was annoyed?”

Chris grinned, giving your waist a squeeze. “You’ve got that look,” he teased, voice full of knowing. “The one where you’re pretending not to care, but you’re already making up ways to subtly ruin her night.”

You exhaled a soft laugh, finally turning your full attention back to him. “She was looking at you like she wanted to take a bite.”

Chris let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he pulled back just enough to look at you properly. “You do realize that was his wife, right?”

You barely blinked, lifting your glass to your lips. “And?”

Chris grinned. “And maybe she was just being friendly.”

You arched a brow, unimpressed. “Chris. She was practically undressing you with her eyes.”

His dimples flashed as he grinned wider, but before he could say anything, you tilted your head, considering. “Or,” you mused, voice dripping with amusement, “maybe they’re into that sort of thing.”

Chris choked.

You watched with no small amount of satisfaction as a flush crept up his neck, his usual effortless confidence flickering for just a second. “What—” He cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “You think—”

You shrugged, all faux nonchalance. “Wouldn’t be the first time a couple tried to recruit you.”

Chris groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Jesus. Don’t remind me.”

You smirked behind your champagne glass, watching as he rubbed a hand down his face like he was trying to physically erase the memory.

“What was it that one guy said to you? Something about how he and his girl would ‘love to explore your energy’?”

Chris visibly shuddered. “I am begging you to never repeat that sentence again.”

You laughed, letting your fingers trail along the nape of his neck. His skin was warm, the heat creeping up from his collar, and you couldn’t resist the way he reacted to you, how easy it was to pull him in when you wanted to.

You glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of her again. She was still watching—her gaze dipping once more, as if mapping out his body, as if picturing all the ways she might get closer. Bold, but ultimately useless.

Chris was already here, with you.

You decided to prove the point.

With deliberate slowness, you let your hand slide lower, fingers pressing into the small of his back as you leaned into him, your lips grazing just beneath his ear.

“You know,” you murmured, voice soft enough that only he could hear, “if I was annoyed, I’d have a much better way of handling it than ruining her night.”

Chris inhaled sharply, and you felt the way his body tensed under your touch. His grip flexed on your waist before settling firm, almost possessive. “Yeah?” he muttered, voice lower now, rougher.

You let your lips brush the edge of his jaw, just for a second, just enough. “Mmhmm.”

Chris exhaled slowly, his hand shifting—sliding down, fingers pressing into your hip in a way that felt like both a warning and a plea

His fingers dug into your hip, just enough to make his point. “Careful,” he murmured, voice rough at the edges. “You keep this up, and we’re leaving this party early.”

You smirked, entirely unbothered by the threat. “What a shame that would be,” you mused, dragging your fingers just barely under the hem of his blazer. “Missing out on all this networking.”

Chris exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip flexing again—like he was reminding himself where you were, who was watching. But his eyes darkened, and you knew he wasn’t entirely in control of himself anymore.

You had him.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his fingers slid just a little lower, his palm pressing flush against the curve of your hip. His body shifted, subtly angling you away from the rest of the room, from prying eyes, but you caught it—the way she was still watching, her expression unreadable, her lips pressed into a careful line.

You smiled. Slow. Sweet. Possessive in a way that didn’t require theatrics.

And then, just to seal it, you leaned up, brushing your lips against the shell of Chris’s ear, making damn sure she saw the way he shivered.

“Baby,” he muttered, like a warning, like a plea.

You pressed your smile against his jaw. “Mmhmm?”

Chris exhaled through his nose again, steadying himself, and when he finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes burned. His amusement was still there, but now it was tinged with something else, something hotter.

“I’m getting you another drink,” he said, his voice low, steady. But his fingers lingered on your waist, like he didn’t actually want to step away.

You tilted your head, gaze steady. “I don’t need another drink.”

Chris huffed out something that was almost a laugh, but his fingers flexed against your waist like he was hanging onto his last shred of composure. His jaw tightened, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and then he shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“No,” he said, voice rough. “You definitely do.”

You arched a brow, lips twitching. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose as he took another step away. “Because,” he said, voice rougher than before, “if I stand here for one more second, I’m gonna forget we’re at a party.”

You smirked, watching the tension in his shoulders, the way he practically forced himself to step back. He needed the space—needed to pull himself together, to break the spell you’d so effortlessly cast over him.

Chris was disciplined, always the one in control, always the level-headed leader who could charm his way through any situation. But right now? Right now, his composure was cracking at the edges, and you loved knowing you were the reason why.

He cleared his throat, dragging a hand down his face before glancing toward the bar like it was some kind of lifeline. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered, already turning.

You didn’t stop him. You didn’t need to. Because the second he put even a step of distance between you, he hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before shaking his head, like he was trying to clear you from his system.

You didn’t look away.

Not at first.

No, you let her stare, let her sit with it, let her marinate in the realization that whatever fleeting fantasy she’d entertained—whatever sliver of hope she’d foolishly clung to—had never stood a chance. Because this? This wasn’t a maybe. This wasn’t an opening.

Chris had already made his choice.

So you lifted your glass that Chris had just handed you, slow and deliberate, meeting her gaze with something just a touch too sweet, just a shade too knowing. And then—because you could—you raised it in a silent toast.

A petty, razor-sharp little acknowledgment.

I see you.

Her expression barely flickered, but you caught it—the subtle shift, the way her fingers curled slightly at her side, the way her lips pressed together in something that wasn’t quite a smile. She didn’t like being caught. Didn’t like that you knew exactly what she had been thinking.

Didn’t like that she had lost before she’d even started.

You took a slow sip of your champagne, savoring the moment, before finally, lazily, turning your attention away. Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? She didn’t matter enough to keep looking at.

Chris did.

And Chris? He was watching the entire thing unfold, his gaze flicking between the two of you, amusement flickering beneath something darker.

"You’re insufferable," he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear.

You tilted your head, all innocence. "What ever do you mean?"

Chris let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head, but you saw the way his fingers flexed around the glass in his hand, saw the way his jaw tightened as he leaned in, voice just for you.

"That was mean."

You shrugged, unfazed. "That was mercy."

Chris huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, but the way his fingers curled around your waist said he wasn’t entirely unaffected. His grip was firm—just shy of possessive, like he needed to ground himself in your presence, like he needed to remind himself that no amount of fleeting attention from anyone else could touch what was his.

"You’re a piece of work, you know that?" he murmured, eyes still dancing with amusement.

You smiled, slow and sweet. "And yet, here you are."

Chris exhaled sharply through his nose, his dimples flashing as he tipped his glass to his lips. "Yeah," he admitted, voice low, warm. "Here I am."

And that was it, wasn’t it?

You didn’t need to stake your claim, didn’t need to sink your claws into him in some desperate display of ownership. Because Chris wasn’t looking at anyone else. He wasn’t thinking about anyone else.

And the way his hand slid lower, fingers pressing into the small of your back like he couldn’t help himself? The way his eyes softened, darkened, like you were the only thing keeping him tethered in a room full of noise and flashing lights?

That said everything.

So you let the moment settle between you, let the warmth of the champagne hum through your veins as Chris traced absentminded circles against your hip, his fingers slow, lazy.

His hand slid lower, a warning, a promise, before he took a slow step back, eyes still locked onto yours. "We should go," he murmured, voice rough. "Before I forget how to behave."

You hummed, pretending to consider it, even as your body leaned into his touch like it already knew the answer. “That bad, huh?”

Chris let out a low chuckle, his fingers tightening against your waist, his breath fanning warm against your cheek as he dipped closer—just close enough to make your pulse stutter. “You have no idea.”

You knew exactly what was running through his head, how tightly he was holding the last threads of his composure, how close he was to losing the game he always played so well.

So you tipped your chin up, gaze steady, letting your lips just barely graze his jaw as you murmured, “Then what are we still doing here?”

Chris exhaled sharply, like he was physically restraining himself, before shaking his head with a breathy laugh. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, already slipping his hand into yours, already leading you through the crowd with a singular purpose.

You let him. You followed, matching his pace, feeling the heat of his palm against yours, feeling the weight of his gaze every time he glanced down at you like he was already thinking ten steps ahead.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

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

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

Minors do not interact!!!

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

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

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

Word count: 5.6k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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

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

To love. To Chan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sharp sting of his words left you breathless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What had he done?

***

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

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

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

You hated arguing with Chan. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tensed but didn’t turn around.

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

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

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

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

He had messed up. Badly.

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

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

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

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

But his heart won over his hesitation.

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

Instead, he carefully turned the doorknob and stepped inside.

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

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

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

“Honey…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chan was here. And he was trying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soft and hesitant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shi— fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chan I'm… I'm going to come,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart skipped a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[mykoreanlove]

This stupid argument had dragged on for way too long, and your patience was running thin.

„Sit“, Chan gestured to the leather chair next to you.

„I‘m not your fucking dog, Chan“, you spat in agony.

He sighed deeply, the sound heavy with exasperation, and walked over to you. Taking your hand gently but firmly, he led you to the chair, his touch soft but commanding.

„Love of my life, my baby, my precious angel. My y/nnie, the one that I adore endlessly - please take a seat. I don’t want to tire out your pretty legs.“

He guided you down into the chair slowly, never breaking eye contact, his gaze intense.

„At least not like this.“

[babyleostuff]

― SCARED YET?

sometimes it's fun to make your boyfriend suffer (make him watch horror movies)

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, bang chan being scared because of a jumpscare, clingy channie 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!bang chan x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 418

💌 natalia’s note: not svt related, but i just finished watching a horror movie (and i'm a bit tipsy which = clingy), which means i need to write about a man being clingy (i know his ass would hate me for making him watch horror)

poor jeongin had to be cruising out his leader like crazy at this point.

he surely wasn’t sleeping, since chris’s screams had been echoing through their dorm for at least an hour now, so you were keeping your fingers crossed that his noice cancelling headphones were fully charged, since you still had half an hour left of the movie.

you probably should’ve warned him you’d be sentencing chris to the worst tortures imaginable that there are.

which are horror movies. which your boyfriend obviously hates.

you didn’t feel too guilty about it though. it wasn’t your fault he forgot about your last movie night, leaving you sad and alone in his room, while he was at the studio.

a bit of spook never killed nobody. plus, it was the perfect excuse to cuddle a half naked chris.

“what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” your boyfriend’s voice was muffled with how deep in your neck he was hiding.

“it’s okay, baby,” you laughed, running your fingers through his hair, which now were the perfect length to play with. you were waiting for times like these. “you’re okay.”

he shook his head, whining softly. “nah-ah,” chris said, pulling his head away from you. “i hate you, y’know?” he pouted, jutting his bottom lip out. his arms tightened around your waist, not that you minded; he was already crushing your ribs anyway.

“remember whose fault this is, christopher, hm?” you hummed and ran your finger over his bottom lip.

a short while later, your boyfriend got back to his designated place, which obviously was in the crook of your neck with your arms tightly wrapped around his bare, strong shoulders.

“no, no, no,” chris mumbled, sensing another jumpscare. his body next to you was stiff as a plank and judging by how tense his back was, you knew he was scared for real.

kissing his temple, you tightened your hold around him. “we can turn it off, if you want.”

he shook his head gently, tickling you with his hair. “‘s okay. i know how much you like this movie. it’s just… a bit… scary.”

“chris, it’s fine. we can stop.”

he shook his head once again, being stubborn as ever, though it made your chest flutter with warmth at the thought that he’d rather do the thing he’s so uncomfortable with, just to make you happy.

“it’s okay, honey,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “as long as i’m holding you, nothing bad will happen.”

[hannamoon143]

♡ Stick together♡

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

husband! chan x pregnant fem. reader

wordcount: 2,1k

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

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

not proofread

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

„Is daddy home?“

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

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

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

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

„Hey y/nnie, Whats up?“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lovecoree]

༄ INTO IT B. CHAN !

PAIRING✰ — best friend!Chan x blackfem!reader

synopsis: having a crush on your best friend Chan couldn’t be hidden anymore.

genre: angst , smut

warning: foul language, reader uses she/her prns, reader is black coded, some fluff, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this), creampie, rough sex, praise kink, softdom!chan, pet names ( bunny & baby, but mainly bunny! ), pussy drunk Chan, Chan is HUGE (sorry not sorry), aftercare, let me know if there’s more !

a/n: requested by @penny44224 ! I finally finished thiss! this only took long because my computer was acting up and I got it fixed last week so sorry for the slow updates. I’m also trying a new style hope you guys like it 🙃🫶🏽

“Fuck, I’m nervous.” You smoothed out your outfit after you stepped out your car. Checking your reflection on your car windows, your hair looked fine and so does your makeup. Your heels clicking on the concrete floor as you made your way towards the house. The further you got to the door, the louder the music got. You could immediately recognize the song, tgif by glorilla playing.

Twisting the doorknob you was instantly greeted by the smell of weed and alcohol. People dancing and just vibing. You grabbed your phone out your purse to text your friend Mina again to see where she was at.

y/n: Mina, wya I’m here?

Mina: finally girl, I’m in the back outside with the rest.

y/n: okay!

Putting your phone away back in your purse, you started to move through people, saying excuse me along the way. “Damn, can’t say—” You were about to go off on the person that bumped into. When you turned around, you were met with Chan, your best friend looking down at you with a smile on his face. You almost lost your balance because damn, he looks good.

He could make a simple black outfit look so good. “Sorry about that bunny, didn’t see you.” Chan teased before giving you a hug. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the cute pet name he calls you all the time.

He pulled away from the hug taking in your outfit with a raised eyebrow. “What? I look bad.?” Your voice coming out softly caused Chan to shake his head. “No no, you just— wow, you look beautiful.” He complimented still staring at your appearance. You smiled muttering a small thank you, feeling shy about his compliment.

Chan snapped out his trance before clearing his throat, he grabbed your hand before saying, “i was on my way to get another drink, wanna come?” You moved closer to his face due to the fact you couldn’t hear him since the music got even louder once the next song after party by Don Toliver played. “Say that again.” You said loudly over the music. He pulled you closer by the waist, moved his face closer to your ear and whispered lowly.

“You coming with me or not?” He said before pulling away to look down at you. What he didn’t know that you were going crazy on the inside from the way his voice deepened. He did that on purpose or are you trippin?

“U-uhm, yea I’ll go with you.” You didn’t know where he was going to take you, but you really didn’t care, “good.” He gave you that famous innocent smile like he didn’t just make you feel butterflies and took you further away from the people who were dancing and grinding.

Yall made your way to the kitchen, you could see two familiar faces chatting together while holding a red plastic cup in their hands. The beautiful man that had long blonde hair was the first to notice you two, his eyes slightly dazed, but they sparkled once seeing you and Chan coming towards them. “Omg you’re here!” You giggled as he made his way towards you, pushing Chan out the way and hugged you tightly.

“Hi Felix.” You smiled embracing him as well before he let go to look at you. “Damn, you look fine as fuck, who you trying to get dick down by tonight?” Your eyes immediately widen before laughing once Chan delivered a punch to Felix shoulder causing him to glare at him while Chan did the same.

“You look stunning y/n.” The voice coming behind Felix came in view as he smiled at you. “Thanks Minho.” You smiled causing him to wink at you. “Ok enough flirting you two.” Chan said playfully but firmly before pushing the two lightly out of your way so you could walk further into the kitchen.

You grabbed a red plastic cup and filled it a little bit of half and half. “Not in the mood to drink?” Chan watched your movements as he did the same, but filling the cup with more alcohol than fruit punch.

“Yea—” “y/n! There you are.” You peeked over Chan’s shoulder seeing your friend Mina walking towards you, smiling ear to ear. Her eyes soon averted towards Chan, eyes sparkling a little “Hii Chan.” Mina voice came out smoothly in a flirtatious manner, that you ignored, wanting to believe your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Hi Mina.” Chan didn’t even glance her way, more focused on his cup, voice coming out nonchalant before taking a sip of his mixture that he created. Mina finally acknowledged you again and looked you up and down. “You look..pretty.” She complimented.

“Thank you?” You said, not really feeling the compliment, it felt fake? “I thought you were coming out back with me?” She tilted her head, grabbing a cup as well to get a drink.

“I was, but I bumped into Chan on my way and—” Mina gasped as she interrupted your sentence, she looked at Chan once again grabbing on his bicep before speaking again. “That reminds me, Chan are you in the mood to play beer pong?”

“Damn, just going to interrupt her talking like that?” You could hear Minho voice laced with irritation in the back as he watched along with Felix leaning against the counter. Mina smacked her lips, giving Minho a dirty look, while Chan released her grip.

Minho never really liked Mina, but you told him before that she’s a really good person and has a kind heart. “I don’t know something iffy about her.” Minho once said a couple weeks ago when you and Jisung was out shopping for some things, Mina soon brought up into the conversation out of know where.

You honestly didn’t know where this attitude was coming from, but you sure as well didn’t have a good feeling about it. You being you still brushed it off, “It’s fine Minho.” You said calmly.

You didn’t notice the way Mina rolled her eyes before looking back at Chan, waiting patiently for his answer. “I’ll play if y/n plays.” Chan finally said looking at you with an unreadable expression. Mina gave a tight lip smile before giggling. “Of course she’s playing silly, right y/n.” “Uhmm, yea I’m down.” You smiled, glancing at the still left over drink in your cup, “you finish?” Chan asked softly.

You looked up at him nodding your head yes. Without a word he took your cup for you, “I can throw it away.” You said watching him switch the cup where your lip gloss stain wasn’t on the ridge. “Nah It’s fine, I added a shit ton of alcohol in my cup.” He joked.

“Ok enough smalll talk, let’s go!” Mina was quick to grab both yours and Chan hand dragging the both of you out the kitchen. You look back to see Minho and Felix trailing right behind.

You could hear laughter and shout as soon as you stepped outside. You could see the rest of your friends already playing beer pong. Changbin was the first to notice y’all, he instantly smiled, “look who’s finally here!” Changbin came up to you and and Chan, giving you a tight hug which you excepted with a warm smile gracing your face.

“You wanna play beer pong?” Changbin released his grip on you and dapped up Chan, waiting for your answer. “She already agreed bin.” Mina said for you, pulling you closer towards her after Chan moved away from her.

“I wasn’t asking you Mia.” “It’s Mina.” She replied glaring at him, “whatever.” You stifled your laughter at their bickering, Mina held up her hand dismissing Changbin before looking at you. “You and me are playing first.” She grinned linking her arm around yours, dragging you away from your friends.

You could see Seungmin and Hyunjin having an intense round while Han watches keeping score. Han eyes shift towards you and Mina, smiling that big smile he waved at you both. “Look who’s here!” Han shouted causing Hyunjin to lose his focus and miss one of Seungmin’s cup. Hyunjin groaned earning a cocky smirk from Seungmin and a sorry look from Han who received a glare in return.

“Drink up or spill a secret.” Seungmin teased waiting patiently for Hyunjin to make a decision. Hyunjin doesn’t back away from a challenge so he shrugged his shoulders answering without any fear. “I slept with your cousin two weeks ago.”

“OK! anyone next to play.” Han cut the tension short as Seungmin was ready to pounce on Hyunjin. “Is that why you have been texting me asking about her!- yah, come here.” Seungmin grumbled something in Korean before trying to get ahold of Hyunjin who only ran away laughing. He saw you and instantly hid behind you. “Y/n, get him! He’s trying to kill me.” You shook your head as Seungmin got closer.

“I would to if you slept with my cousin.” “But we like each other, it’s not like I hit and quit, that’s not like me.” Hyunjin retorted, letting out a yelp in the process as Seungmin finally reached him, putting Hyunjin in a headlock while he apologized profusely.

“He was so cocky while saying that, now look at him.” Chan said smiling while shaking his head, watching the scene unfold.

“Han me and y/n want next.” Mina pulled you over towards the table going to the opposite side. “Do you know how the rules work?” Han asked looking at you. You shook your head no, letting Han explain the rules “Ok so, we do beer pong our own way by shooting a ball in the other person’s cup, if you miss you drink or tell a secret. If you don’t miss, the other person has to drink or tell a secret.” You took in the information, understanding the rules before smiling.

“That sounds easy.” The game was going fairly smoothly, you were surprised by how many cups you got the ball in. Han, the rest of your friends and others watched intensely as Mina and you came down to a few more cups.

You felt pressured because even though music was playing loudly and people having fun, it felt like it got quiet. You focused on the cup you were aiming for and shot it lightly. “Fuck.” You mumbled, watching the ball bounce away from the cup, you glanced to see Mina smirking.

“Go ahead. Spill a secret.”

Her words were taunting you, she looked you in the eyes, communicating with you causing you to gulp down hard on your own saliva while feeling eyes watching you.

You were quick to pick up the cup ready to put your lips on it and down the drink that was inside, just to get over with it. “Oh come on y/n, I know you have a juicy secret to tell.” Mina was not looking at you anymore with playful eyes it felt like she started to get irritated.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You replied voice coming out in a small whisper.

“Oh but I think you do.” Mina watched as you hesitantly glanced over at Chan, embarrassment creeping up your skin as you felt like all attention was on you.

“Mina I think you—” Han reached out to Mina trying to get her to stop, but she wouldn’t budge, in fact she was determined for you to say it. The secret that you and Mina only know, the one thing that you trusted her with if anything. You felt your lips start to tremble as you stayed silent. Pleading with your eyes to Mina, but it only made her annoyed further.

“Since you’re being so scared I’ll say it,” Mina took one look at Chan, grinning proudly. “Y/n has a crush on you Chan.”

Instant heartbreak. It felt like your whole body froze and your stomach had dropped. You felt the tears welled up in your eyes feeling betrayed as Mina scoffed at you. “Can you believe that? Out of all people, you have a crush on Chan!” She clapped her hands meanwhile everyone around you stood in complete silence watching the scene unfold.

You could hear low whispered around you and small laughter being passed around, “Mina what the fuck is wrong with you.” Seungmin was the first to break the silence, eyes filled with anger.

“Omg, we were all thinking it,” she turned back to you making sure you understood everything she was saying. “You knew I like Chan, yet you still want him? Face it, he would never date you.” You let her words sink in and you immediately let the first tear slide down your cheek, that was enough before your feet could finally move and head straight to the door.

Not even glancing at anyone else especially Chan’s eyes, ignoring him calling your name as your main goal was to go home and never come back.

The sound of heavy rain tapped against your window and music playing in the background along with it to help you stop thinking about what happened twenty minutes ago at the party. You felt your tears never stop as you packed your clothes inside two different suitcases. You couldn’t stay, not after such embarrassment, you just couldn’t.

Knowing Chan witnessed everything, such a vulnerable moment had you crying even more. Zipping up your suitcase, you paused the song that was playing on your tv before carrying both suitcases by the door leaving them there. Before you could turn around and finish with your other stuff, a hard knock was coming from your door, startling you because you wasn’t expecting anyone. You didn’t even get a call or text that someone would be coming.

You looked through the peep whole to see who it was, “Chan?” You opened the door seeing Chan standing there all soaked, breathing hard, and eyes staring into your soul. You looked at him confused not finding any words to say.

“Are you not going to let me in?” He sounded out of breath, but his tone was in a teasing manner. Snapping out your trance you stepped aside letting him step inside your apartment. Chan took notice of your suitcases, letting out a sigh while placing his shoes to the side before turning towards you. All playfulness leaving his body as he stood there soaked and serious.

You hate to admit that he looks good right now. You felt shy in front of him, you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. Too nervous to do so.

“So that’s it, you’re going to leave because of what Mina said.” Was he angry? Of course he was angry, “look Chan I already have been embarrassed enough tonight, just— please don’t scold me.” Your voice trembled as you finally looked up at him, tears glossing your eyes. Chan face dropped moving closer towards you, gracing your face with his cold hands that somehow brung a sudden warm feeling to your body.

“I would never scold you I just…don’t want you to leave.” He whispered wiping the tear that managed to escape your pretty eyes. “I don’t want you to leave me.” You could’ve sworn Chan eyes flickered from your lips back to your eyes.

“B-But Mina was right.” Your voice died down as Chan shook his head no, looking at you with an unreadable look. “Fuck Mina and whatever she said to you at the party, she doesn’t know shit.” Chan let go of your face, but never once step away from you.

“She’s not the one I want.”

Your heart started to beat faster at Chan’s words. “She’s not?” “No and she’ll never be.” Chan smiled as he let you put two and two together. Chan laughed as pulled you even closer than before, his words finally dawned on you.

“I want you bunny.” There go that nickname again, the smirk that graced his face and his eyes shifting to something different. Love and lust. You felt like you were dreaming, this couldn’t be real. “I don’t know what to say-.” You gulped as Chan leaned his face in, whispering to you, “You don’t have to, just let me show you how much I need you.”

Chan was serious and he was definitely going to prove to you that he wants you. It took you a minute to nod your head yes, but only one second for Chan’s lips to be yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck while he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you with so much passion and love.

The kiss turned eager as you both went further and further to your bedroom. Along the way, Chan placed hot kisses along your neck, releasing pleasurable moans from your lips. You combed your hand in his wet hair as he picked you up and placed you on your bed softly. He stood there, lips red and eyes filled with lust, drinking in your appearance.

“You look beautiful baby.” You felt like he was undressing you with his eyes, without any shame he got on top of you, kissing your lips once again. “I’ve waited for this moment for so long.” He mumbled against your lips, hands roaming your body with need. “Me too.” You whispered causing Chan to smile before pulling away.

“Yeah? I’m sorry I took so long…” He looked at you with so much love and affection. “Don’t be sorry— just..please I need you Chan.” Your voice grew needy, not realizing that you started to grind on his leg in the process. “Shit. You’re driving me crazy bunny.” Chan leaned up disregarding his wet shirt that was sticking to his body. You gawked at the sight of his abs flexing and glistening.

You couldn’t believe you were finally seeing him up close like this—on top of you at that. You pulled him down by his belt to kiss you more, breaking the kiss from time to time to help you take off your clothes. “Eager huh?” Chan teased earning a whine from you as you laid bare underneath him, only leaving your panties on.

“Of course I am, I need you so bad.” You confessed watching as he played with the Lacey material of your underwear in a teasing manner, loving the reaction you give him from doing so. Chan placed a kiss on your thigh before dragging your panties down and off your body, spreading your legs for you, he hummed at the sight of your glistening cunt presented to him.

“Fuck, what a pretty pussy you have.” He whispered, moving his thumb down to tease your clit causing you to jump a little from the sudden contact, his hands felt cold making you shiver as your legs almost closed. With his free hand he held one of your leg open, looking up at you, “keep your legs open.” It was more of a demand than a request. You listened, watching in awe as he came closer, wasting no time replacing his thumb with his mouth. “Fuck! Chan.” Mouth gaping open as Chan held you closer to his mouth.

Lapping up every bit of your arousal with a satisfied groan. Chan eyes pierced up at you during the process, watching the way your back arched, eyes rolled back, and mouth wide open releasing those beautiful moans he loves to hear.

You placed your hand into his hair gripping tightly making him groan from the impact and sending vibrations to your pussy. The feeling felt so unreal to you, your brain felt blank. “S-Shit Chan.” You whined, finally looking down to see him now with his eyes closed as he fucked you on his tongue. “Feels so good.”

You felt the knot in your stomach causing you to whine more, Chan never faltering as he gripped your thighs tight, determined for you to cum on his tongue. “M’gonna cum!” You warned mouth going slack as Chan entered two of his fingers inside of you, bringing you closer to your release and lips attached to your sensitive bud.

You screamed his name while Chan watched your body washed over with pleasure, back arched off the bed and beautiful cries leaving your lips trying to calm down. He pulled away from you completely, lips and chin glistening with your arousal. He looked good.

Chan stood at the foot of your bed, teasingly taking off his belt. You watched with shaky deep breaths, waiting so patiently that he smiled. Tugging his pants down, you were met with the sight of his black boxers doing a poor job at hiding his bulge. Chan watched you crawl closer towards him, having a mind of your own you reached out for him. Helping him take off the last layer of clothing for him. Chan hissed at the feeling of his cock finally being released and met with the cold air from your room.

Your mouth was practically drooling and your eyes wide with fascination. You knew he was big, your dirty mind always reminded you every time you see this man, but you weren’t expecting him to be this big. It honestly scared you, but in a good way.

“You’re just going to stare bunny, or help me out.” Chan tilted his head staring down at you with so much desire in his eyes. You muttered a small yes before wrapping your small hand around his cock causing him to immediately moan.

You pumped him a few times, feeling how heavy he feels in your hand before wrapping your pretty lips around his pink tip. Chan watched you closely as you tried your best to take him at least half way, the way your eyes looked so innocent, but your actions clearly was the opposite of innocent, had Chan eager. “Fuck, look at you…need help hmm?” He smirked, already gripping the back of your neck while you laid flat on your stomach on the bed, for more comfort.

Mouth still full of him as he eased his way down your throat. Chan had to hold back from going too fast, afraid you’ll get hurt, but the small rub on his thighs and a quick communication with your eyes— all carefulness went out the window.

“You’re fucking irresistible you know that.” Not holding back his moans as his hips snapped with each thrust in your mouth, “mouth feels- fuck, s-so good.” You were getting turned on even more hearing the sounds he was making. The whimpers and moans that left his lips, the wet sound of his balls slapping on your chin with each thrust made you go insane.

Strings of cuss words left his mouth from intense pleasure. The whole scene was messy, something you both enjoyed. Drool and spit coating his cock, dripping down your chin, and tears welling in your eyes.

Chan felt his stomach cave in, abs flexing as he look back down at you. “You look so pretty like this bunny, your mouth was ah! made for me.” Chan felt so close that he had to pull away from you. Feeling oxygen come back, you coughed up spit trying to calm your breathing, pretty eyes looking up at him. He couldn’t help it but lean down and kiss you with so much passion, not caring about the drool coating your chin and lips.

“Need you to fuck me chan.” You said in between the kiss, growing more needy by the minute. Chan was quick to manhandle you in the position he wanted you in. Legs pushed all the way up, his hands resting on the back of your thighs to keep them there. Cock resting on your stomach, “look how deep I’m gonna be.” Chan would never admit out loud that he has a size kink, but the way you glanced down to see what he was talking about, pretty eyes going wide— had his mind spinning. “Fuck wait— it’s not going to fit.” You looked so scared that Chan had to clam you down with kisses. “I promise I’ll go slow, ok?”

You shake your head yes, eyes still looking down between the two of you. “Bunny,” finally looking up at him into his eyes, a silent communication letting you know he got you. Leaning his body in half way he distracted you with more kisses—honestly he couldn’t get enough of your lips.

“Chan!” You gasped as you parted away from his lips, feeling him slowly entering inside of you. Only the tip and you somehow felt full. Eyebrows knitted, a surprised yelp leaving your lips, staring deep into your eyes he shook his head, “I know bunny, I know.” Chan was trying to control himself, he was only half way in— the urge to snap his hips and fill you up in one go was tempting.

Chan hissed at the feeling of you sucking him in, your walls felt like heaven to him and it only made his desires fuel even more. He halt his movement to let you adjust, taking small breaths before signaling him to continue. Each painful push soon turned into pleasure, but what scared you was that he was only half way in. “F-Fuck you’re tight.” Chan groaned, eyes almost rolled to the back of his head, hips finally meeting your thighs as he was now fully inside of you.

Immediately kissing your cervix, you let out a shaky moan from feeling him deep inside you, “mhm faster Chan, please.” Your voice sounded so angelic to him that he gave you what you wanted without hesitation. “Sound so pretty,” Chan’s hips moving with such smoothness in a fast pace, skin slapping and y’all moans mixed together, “Making me feel- oh fuck! So good.” Chan let out the most pornographic moan as he gripped your thighs tighter, pushing them until your pussy was in perfect view.

Chan took one glance seeing how you wrapped around his cock with each thrust, the mixture of yours and his cum forming a ring at the base of his cock and abdomen made his body shiver. “your— fucking me so good.” You gasped, feeling Chan roll his hips feeding you deep strokes, glancing up at him, you can truly say he looked so fucking good.

His hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dazed, muscles flexing, and lips letting out the most toe curling words and moans to you. He was perfect. “Love it baby, love you so much.” He mumbled looking down at you, loving the feeling and wishing it never end.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down for a kiss, his hips never faltering during the process. Missionary felt so intimate, eyes filled with lust but so much love, staring into one another had both of you feeling weak. It was like this moment was bound to happened and you and him were loving every moment of it.

He made you forget everything, the party, your now ex friend that you wish you could’ve at least slapped before you left— everything except for Chan. And he made sure you didn’t, with each thrust he was soon close to his breaking point, “Chan…I-im ffuckk— im close.” You warned, feeling him lock his hands with yours on the bed and his hips flattering slightly.

“Me too baby, me too.” He let out the loudest moans as he chased his high, the clapping sounds of skin and so much mixture of yours and his cum dripping from your cunt to your bed was such a unholy sight, but it felt so good. “Ffuckk baby, fuckfuckfuck, I need to fill you up, be a good bunny for me and let me fill you up.” He used his free hand to rub fast circles on your puffy clit causing you to yelp.

Gulping down on your saliva, you nod your head, “fill me up please.” How could you say no when he moaned and whimpered so beautifully, it honestly made the knot in your stomach snap as you finally reached your climax, along with Chan painting your walls with his white thick cum. You shivered at the feeling, chest puffing up and down.

Chan let go of your hand before leaning back, holding your hips to keep you still. “D-don’t move..still so much.” He said shyly, biting his lips while closing his eyes. Registering on what he just said you leaned up on your elbows to get a look only to be met with such a sticky mess. “Oh.” Was all you could say, he rubbed your tummy and finally pulled out slowly hissing along the way before watching a lot of his cum leave your pussy.

“God— let me go get a rag before I fuck you again.” Chan got up off the bed smiling from hearing your small laughter, trying to shy away by using a pillow to cover your face.

Only a minute passed and Chan was back with a rag in hand. “Open.” He softly command, you hummed softly doing so and relaxed at the feeling of the warm rag on your skin. Your eyes wanting to close, but you tried your best to keep them open.

“Chan..” he hummed softly, focusing on cleaning you up, but made sure you knew he was listening. “What does this make us— I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.” You asked softly, heart throbbing at the feeling of him taking care of you.

“I’m your boyfriend who loves you.” He said seriously, finally looking at you with loving eyes and a smile gracing his face. “And you’re my loving girlfriend that loves me.” He teased earning a smile from you.

You both fell into a comfortable silence afterwards. Once Chan finished cleaning you up he carried you into your guest bedroom so you could sleep, since the sheets on your bed would be too uncomfortable to sleep on for obvious reasons.

He got in the bed after you tugging your body closer, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“Good night bunny.”

“Good night Chan.”

bonus! :

♫ Brandy and Monica • The Boy Is Mine

♡︎ 18.8k 💬 9.8k

Y/NTHEDOLL : The boy is mine 💕

COMMENTS:

MINIVERSE.___ : bout damn time

RANDOMUSER : y’all are soo cute

YONG.LIXX : I took the first pic

I.2.N.8 : not you third wheeling 😭

LEEKNOWW : @/theemina wish that was you..

Y/NTHEDOLL : OMG MINHO STOP

_DOOLSETNET : @/hynjinnnn I called it

HYNJINNNN : I did too

GNABNAHC : I love you

Y/NTHEDOLL : I love you more

JUTDWAE : get a room pls and thank you.

CNABNAHC : you hatin? 🤨

Y/NTHEDOLL : yall not finna start this in my comments

Hope y’all enjoyed :)

[changbeansss]

Timeless

Pairings : Bang Chan x reader

Genre : Fluff

Warnings : none (does kissing count as a warning?)

A/N :I'm very much delusional, thank you (pls don't cringe)

The night outside was cool, the faint hum of the city beyond the window barely a whisper in the background. But inside, it was just the two of you—wrapped up in each other, the world shut out, time feeling suspended in these rare moments you managed to steal away.

Chan’s arm was draped around you, his fingers tracing gentle patterns across your back, the kind that sent soft shivers through you and made your heart feel like it might burst from how deeply you loved him. You were nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing soothing, grounding you in the present. His chin rested lightly atop your head, and you could feel the press of his lips there, even if he wasn’t kissing you. The way he held you, so tenderly, as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever known, made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered.

Your favorite movie played in the background, but neither of you had paid attention to it for a while now. The film was a comfort, something familiar that made you both smile when you’d first put it on, but now it was just the soundtrack to this quiet, intimate moment. Chan shifted slightly, pulling you even closer, if that was possible, his warm breath tickling the top of your head as he sighed in contentment.

“I missed this,” he whispered, voice low and laced with emotion. “Just being here with you.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your cheek still resting against his chest. The soft glow from the TV bathed his face in a warm light, and the way he was looking at you—like you were his whole world—made your breath catch. His eyes, soft and full of love, held yours for a moment before he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

The kiss was gentle, filled with unspoken words and promises that didn’t need to be said. It wasn’t urgent or hurried, just sweet and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of it. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek.

“I’m sorry I’m not here more often,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, soothing strokes. “I hate being away from you.”

His words tugged at your heart, and you could feel the sincerity in them. It wasn’t easy, the long stretches of time where you only had brief phone calls and texts to hold onto, but you understood. His career demanded so much of him, but he always made sure to let you know how much he loved you, how much he missed you. And when he was home, like now, he made sure every moment counted.

“You’re here now,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “That’s what matters.”

He smiled at that, a soft, almost shy smile, like he was still surprised that you could be so understanding, so patient with him. “I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest beneath your cheek. “You’re amazing, you know that?” His hand moved to your hair, gently threading his fingers through the strands before tucking a loose lock behind your ear. “I don’t tell you enough.”

“You show me,” you replied, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest. “Every time you come home, every time you hold me like this… you show me.”

His gaze softened even more, if that was possible, and his hand found its way back to your face, thumb brushing over your bottom lip before he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one was deeper, more intent, and you sighed into it, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, holding him closer.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to yours once more, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “I love you,” he whispered, the words heavy with meaning.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice thick with emotion.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to just be in each other’s presence. His fingers trailed up and down your arm, his touch soothing, grounding you in the moment. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, Chan shifted slightly, pulling you up so you were eye level with him. His hand cupped your cheek again, and he gazed at you with such intensity, it made your heart flutter.

“I don’t want to waste a single second,” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion. “Every moment with you… it’s everything.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, the sincerity of them making your chest ache. He always had a way of saying the simplest things in a way that made them feel monumental, like every word he spoke was meant to be etched into your heart forever.

“I feel the same way,” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the stubble on his jaw, your touch light and tender. “Every second with you… it’s worth everything.”

His lips quirked up in a soft smile before he kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you there as if he never wanted to let go. You melted into him, the warmth of his lips, the way his hand gently cupped the back of your head—it all made you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to yours again, his breath coming out in soft, warm puffs against your skin. “Let’s stay like this forever,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your heart swelling with so much love you thought it might burst. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

The movie continued playing, the soft sounds of dialogue and music filling the background, but neither of you paid it any attention. All that mattered was the two of you, curled up in each other’s arms, lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

And in that moment, with Chan’s arms around you and the weight of his love surrounding you like a warm blanket, you knew that no matter how many days or weeks passed when he wasn’t home, no matter how far away he might be, your love would always be enough.

[ddiidi]

bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Pt. 1

Next Pt. 2

!Warnings: angst, fake!texts, swearing (lmk if i missed anything)

Side-Note: I tried something new, I hope y'all like it :3

You and Chan had been dating for good 3 years now and just a few days ago it had been your anniversary and if anything, the past 3 years had been the best years of your life. You guys met when you were put in charge for one of Straykids's album and since then, the two of you grew really close. Of course Chan was a busy person, but he mad time for you whenever he could and never got mad at you for anything. Not even your clingy and sometimes overcaring personality, which had been a big problem in your previous relationships, bothered him. Or so you thought.

You were currently in the Kitchen of your apartment to make yourself breakfast. Chan stayed over last night to which you decieded, it would be for the best to sleep a little longer, and stay longer at work, even though you've still got to pack your things since you'll be moving soon.

You opened the fridge to get out some blueberries and other stuff, when you saw the Lunch made for Chan sitting in it, untouched.

You frowned and took your phone out, to notify him that you'll stop by at the studio to drop it off.

You let out a sigh and put your phone in your bag. I should just get over and drop it off, you thought to yourself and made your way down the hallway, between some boxes you've packed, while waiting for a reply the past hour. You stepped out the door, greeted by the shivering cold winter air and made your way to the studio, with your bag in one and chan's lunch in the other hand.

By the time you arrived at the building, you were freezing cold, mentally cursing yourself for not taking the car. You stepped inside the building, greeted by your co-workers. You gretted them back, making your way to the studio, knocking on the door once. No respond. You knocked twice. Again no respond. You decied to just let yourself in.

When you stepped in the room, you find a busy chan, howering over his Laptop, aggressivly clicking on his keyboard.

"Hey Babe, I texted you earlier but you didn't respond..you forgot your Lunch at my apartment, so I thought I'll bring it over" you said, and put the lunch next to him on his desk, with a smile on your face, which immediately dropped, when he just ignored you. You decided to shrug it off and came behind his chair, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"What are you working on?" No respond. "Chris do you hear what I say?" you ask and stare at him, but he just continues typing on his Lapotop. "Chris-" "Jesus fucking Christ Y/n, can't you just leave me alone?!" He bursted out and turned to you in his chair "But I-" you try to explain, just to be interrupted by him again "DON'T YOU GET THE HINT?!?" he yells, and you instantly stiff "Obviously I'm hearing what you say I'M NOT FUCKING DEAF OKAY?! I'm just ignoring you because I'm trying to have some alone time and do my fucking work without you constantly breathing down my neck!! Can't I just have like 5 minutes of alone time without your clingy ass being right here, next to me, like always asking me stupid questions and breakthing down my neck!?? And your overly caring personality is really getting too much, ever thought I left the Lunch there on purpose??? Or that I don't have time to constantly check my phone because I actually have work to do?????? Get you clingyness under control and LEAVE. ME. ALONE."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know if you should say something. You've never seen him like that. He sounded really mad, and you couldn't help but tremble and blinking your eyes so no tears could escape, but they did and didn't get unnoticed by Chan. "And here comes the river.." he sighed out and rubbed the bridge of his nose. You sobbed your cries in and turned around to leave, only mumbling out a weak "I'm sorry..." before rushing out of the room, running towards the exist, when you bump into Felix.

"Um Y/n is everything okay?" he asks, genuily worried but you just smile at him and nod, before hurrying to get home.

You just wanted to stay in bed for the rest of the day, but you couldn't even do that because you had to pack you things.

It's so cruel.

Everything is so cruel.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[skzophreniic]

🔷 say she wanna fuck me later; girl im into it

featuring: aussie singer christopher bahng x afab reader

genre: smut with plot

warnings: toxic relationship. semi-public sex. illegal drug use, alcohol use. extremely concerning behavior from ALL characters. i am in no way condoning or romanticizing any of these actions, it's just a work of fiction. DO NOT TAKE DRUGS. if you, or any of your loved ones suffer with addiction please click here. minors do not interact.

notes: part one of my new series. chase atlantic songs X Skz. this one is inspired by the song into it. i highly suggest listening to it as you read. also, i have no idea how drugs work guys, so im just making shit up, don't judge me. as usual, feedback is always appreciated! or you can hit me up and we can squeal together lmao

The first time, it was a mistake.

That’s what he told you, breathless and wrecked, his forehead pressed against yours in the dim light of a hotel room neither of you belonged in. But mistakes don’t happen twice. They don’t happen over and over, city after city, his voice hoarse from performing, his hands shaking from whatever he took before he found his way back to you.

Mistakes don’t leave bruises in the shape of his fingers on your hips. They don’t make you crave the taste of smoke and liquor on his lips, don’t have you counting the hours until he stumbles back into your orbit, drenched in sweat and sin.

But here you are, again.

The hotel is different this time—different city, different skyline, same story. The sheets smell like someone else’s perfume, and his shirt is wrinkled like it’s been pulled off and put back on in a hurry. You don’t ask, and he doesn’t offer. He just stands there, framed by the glow of the streetlights bleeding through the window, looking at you like you’re something inevitable.

He swipes a hand over his face, exhales slow. “You shouldn't pick up when I call.”

“Don't call then.”

His lips twitch, the ghost of a smile, but there’s no humor in it. He unbuttons his shirt with one hand, the other spilling the contents of his little plastic bag on the nightstand by the bed. You watch from across the room, in that little black dress you know he likes.

He presses his fingers against his own tongue, wetting it, before pressing it against the white powder, hard enough for it to stick, then sucks on his finger.

You watch as his lips part, as his pupils darken, as his shoulders drop just a little like the weight of the world isn’t so heavy when he does this. He tilts his head back, eyes slipping shut, and you recognize the look that crosses his face—devotion. The kind of surrender that people spend their whole lives chasing.

He only ever looks like that for two things.

Drugs.

And you.

The thought makes your stomach twist, but you don’t dwell on it. Because he’s looking at you now, licking his lips, reaching out a hand. “C’mere,” he murmurs, voice thick, lazy.

And you go. Of course you do.

His fingers trail up the hem of your dress, slow, deliberate, as he tugs you between his legs. “You hate this, don’t you?” he muses, hands skimming your thighs, breath warm against your skin.

You don't answer, instead opening your mouth and lolling out your tongue, asking.

His gaze flickers, dark amusement curling at the edges of something deeper, something neither of you are willing to name.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, tapping his finger against your tongue, smearing the remnants of his high onto your taste buds. “That desperate for a taste?”

You close your lips around his finger, suck slow, let your teeth graze his skin just to watch his jaw tighten. Just to remind him that you know how to play this game, too.

He exhales sharply, tilting his head as he watches you, watches the way your lips part when he pulls his hand away. “Fuck,” he breathes, almost reverent.

He presses his finger back against the powder, and onto his own tongue, before he's sitting up and kissing you before it dissolves, pressing it against your tongue.

The bitterness coats your tongue, mixing with the taste of him, and for a second, it makes your head spin—not just the drugs, but the way he kisses you, slow and deep, like he’s trying to crawl inside your lungs. Like he wants to ruin you in a way that sticks.

His hands are on you now, gripping your hips, tugging you closer until you’re straddling his lap, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs. His fingers dig into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. Like maybe this—whatever this is—grounds him in a way nothing else does.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he mutters against your lips, the words slurred, smudged with exhaustion and chemicals. His hands slide up, tracing the curve of your spine, fingers ghosting over the back of your neck. His breath hitches when you shift against him, when you bite down on his bottom lip just hard enough to make him groan.

“But you keep calling,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to look at him, to see the way his pupils are blown wide, his lips parted. 

A sharp exhale, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to make you tilt your head back. “You like it,” he says, and it’s not a question.

You don’t answer. You don’t have to. The truth is already there, thick in the air between you, tangled up in the way you keep coming back to this—to him.

His grip tightens, his fingers threading deeper into your hair, and when he tugs, your breath stutters. He watches you, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, like he’s memorizing the way you react to him. Like it matters.

Maybe it does. Maybe that’s the worst part.

His lips ghost over yours, a breath away, teasing. “Say it,” he murmurs.

You swallow, pulse hammering, his breath hot against your lips. His words linger between you, thick and taunting, daring you to deny it.

But you don’t.

Instead, you let your fingers slide up his chest, nails scratching lightly over his skin, just to feel the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. You tilt your head, lips brushing against his.

“I’m into it.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, his grip tightening on your thighs, dragging you impossibly closer. “Show me.”

Your hands trail down his chest, slow, deliberate, like you’re mapping out all the places you’ve already claimed.He watches you, his breath shallow, his pupils' dark pools swallowing up what little light remains in the room. You know he’d been smoking before you got there. The drugs have hit by now—he’s drifting, untethered—but you know he sees you. Feels you.

His hands roam, greedy and desperate, slipping under the hem of your dress, gripping you like this is the only thing keeping him from spinning out.

Your lips hover over his, teasing. “Is this what you want?”

His breath stutters, a sharp inhale through his teeth. His fingers tighten on your thighs, his body coiled so tight you almost expect him to snap. His lips part, but he doesn’t answer, just watches you, pupils wide and dark, pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips. It’s fascinating to see–the way his entire body is covered in goosebumps and you’ve barely even touched him, pupils blown wide, following your every move.

“I want you on it,” He breathes, practically whines.

You smirk, rolling your hips once, your panties against the bulge straining against his jeans, slow, deliberate, just to watch the way his jaw clenches, the way his breath shudders out of him like you’ve knocked the air from his lungs. “On what?” you murmur, teasing, even though you already know exactly what he means.

“Don’t start,” he warns, voice low, wrecked. His head falls back against the headboard, eyes locked on you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Don’t act like we haven’t done this before.”

You drag your nails down his bare chest, roll your hips again, slower this time, watching the way his fingers twitch against your thighs, the way his breath comes out in a ragged, uneven exhale. His chest rises and falls erratically, his shirt slipping from his shoulders, exposing more of his skin to your wandering touch.

His patience is hanging by a thread—you can feel it, see it in the way his jaw clenches, in the way his grip on you tightens. You could push him, keep teasing, but there’s something intoxicating about having him like this—already undone before you’ve even really started.

Chris’s hands slide up, bunching up your short dress so that his fingers splayed wide over your bare ribs. “I swear to fucking God,” he breathes, voice strained, almost desperate. His hands slide down your body to unbuckle his belt, but his hands are shaking so badly, all he does is fumble.

You catch his hands, stilling them, and he looks up at you, dazed. “Relax,” you whisper, teasing.

His hands flex against your thighs, a sharp inhale cutting through the thick air between you. “I can’t.”

You make quick work of his belt, undoing the buckle with deft fingers, sliding the leather free before tossing it to the floor. His breath hitches when your hands move lower, when you palm him through his jeans, feeling the heat of him through the fabric.

His head falls back against the headboard with a muted thud, his hands gripping your hips, bruising. “Fuck,” he exhales, voice barely more than a breath.

Your gaze flickers over his shoulder, to the sheets that don’t smell like you. The perfume clings to the air, sweet and sickly, a reminder of whoever warmed his bed before you got here. A lesser woman might bite her tongue, pretend not to notice. But you aren’t her, and he sure as hell isn’t the kind of man who deserves the courtesy of silence.

“Guess she wasn’t enough for you, huh?” you murmur, voice dripping with something venomous, something possessive. You cock your head, smirking as you press your palm against the bulge in his jeans. “Didn’t scratch the itch?”

Chris’s jaw flexes, his fingers tightening on your hips. “Don’t,” he warns, voice low, frayed at the edges.

But you’re not in the mood to play nice. Not when he keeps coming back to you like this. Not when he acts like you’re some bad habit he can’t quit, even with other girls in his bed, on his lap, under his hands.

You lean in, lips grazing his ear. “Maybe she didn’t let you fuck her like she hated you,” you whisper, rolling your hips against him. “Maybe she didn’t make you work for it.”

Chris exhales sharply, nostrils flaring, eyes blown wide with something feral. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. For a second, he just stares at you, chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. And then—

You barely have time to react before he shoves you onto your back, your head hitting the pillows as he looms over you, the air between you charged, electric. His hand wraps around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, like he needs to feel your pulse beneath his fingers. Feel how it hammers against your throat, just for him.

Chris laughs, breathless, humorless. “You talk shit like this,” he mutters, shaking his head. “But you keep coming back.”

“So do you.”

His hand tightens around your throat, just enough to make your breath stutter, just enough to remind you who’s in control. His grip is firm, possessive, like he owns you, like he's daring you to fight him on it.

"You always run your fucking mouth," Chris mutters, voice dripping with venom, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. "But you always end up right here, legs open, dripping for me."

You glare up at him, nails digging into his forearm, but you don’t deny it. You can’t. The proof is slick between your thighs, your body betraying you like it always does when it comes to him.

He tilts his head, watching you like he’s amused. "What’s wrong, baby? Nothing smart to say now?" His fingers flex around your throat, a silent warning. "Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought."

You swallow, the movement pressing your throat against his palm. You refuse to break first.

His grip slides down, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, slow, teasing. “You wanna act like this doesn’t get you off?” He tilts his head, smirking. “That’s cute.”

His other hand trails lower, dragging up the hem of your dress, the rough pads of his fingers grazing over your bare thighs. The anticipation coils in your stomach, tightening with every second he takes his time.

“Bet you’re already soaked for me,” he muses, voice dipping lower, darker. “Bet you’ve been waiting for this.”

You glare up at him, defiant, but the moment his fingers press against the damp fabric between your legs, your breath stutters. He hums, smug. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

His fingers move slowly, a light, teasing touch that makes your hips jerk forward instinctively, chasing more. Chris watches, amused, eyes flickering between your face and where his hand disappears under your dress. “You say my name when you get yourself off?” he asks, voice thick with arrogance, fingers pressing harder, rubbing slow, torturous circles over your panties. “Or do you pretend I’m not the only one who gets you like this?”

You don’t answer, but you can’t stop the way your body responds to him, the way your thighs tremble as he keeps working you open.

Chris exhales sharply, dragging your panties aside, his fingers slipping through your slick folds. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Dripping for me, baby.”

His fingers leave you for only a moment, just long enough to reach for the small mirror on the nightstand, the neat white lines already waiting for him. You watch as he rolls up a bill with practiced ease, bringing it to his nose. He inhales sharply, the sound cutting through the thick silence between you, head tilting back as the high crashes through his system.

Chris exhales slow, blinking up at the ceiling, and for a second, he looks completely weightless—like the chaos in his head has stilled, if only for a moment. Then his gaze drops back to you, pupils blown wide, lips curling into something dark and satisfied.

“You love this shit,” he mutters, voice heavy, thick with the rush of chemicals and lust. His fingers tease you, slick and lazy, dragging through your folds with just enough pressure to make you squirm. “Love letting me fuck you up, huh?”

His fingers push inside, slow, lazy, and your nails dig into his forearm, grounding yourself in the press of his body against yours. He watches, lips parting slightly, mimicking yours, as he curls his fingers, dragging them along that spot that makes your back arch and your thighs shake. The smirk that pulls at his lips is nearly smug.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker. “You act like you don’t fucking need this.”

Your body betrays you, hips rocking forward, seeking more. Chris laughs, low and dark, withdrawing his fingers completely just to hear you whimper. He watches the way your lips part, the way your chest heaves, taking in every twitch, every shift. You can feel his breath ghost over your lips when he leans down, his nose brushing yours.

“You love letting me wreck you, don’t you?” he muses, his voice soft, taunting. His fingers trail up your inner thigh, featherlight, so close to where you want him but refusing to give in just yet. “Love knowing that no matter how many times I walk away, you’ll let me crawl back inside you like I fucking belong there.”

You breathe out a shaky laugh, tipping your chin up in defiance even as your body betrays you, rocking toward him, silently begging for more. “Fuck you,” you mutter, voice thinner than you’d like.

Chris grins, all teeth, his fingers still teasing, still hovering just shy of where you need him. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You shift beneath him, pushing up just enough to press your lips against his, to feel the remnants of the drugs on his tongue, the taste of chemicals and sin coating his mouth. He groans, low and guttural, his control slipping just a little when your teeth graze his bottom lip. His grip on your thighs tightens, and then suddenly, he’s pushing you back down against the mattress, pinning you beneath him with his weight.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath uneven. His fingers flex against your thigh, like he’s trying to anchor himself. “You make me so fucking stupid.”

Your body arches into him, aching, pleading, but he’s already there, already lining himself up, already sinking inside with a ragged exhale that sounds like relief.

It’s fast, brutal, nothing soft about it. He fucks you like he needs it, like this is the only way he knows how to breathe. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open, keeping you where he wants, where he needs.

Every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, steals the words from your lips until all that’s left is the sound of skin on skin, his low, filthy groans, the way your name drags from his throat like a prayer he doesn’t believe in.

Chris doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He’s chasing his own high, using you for it, taking what he wants, what he needs. And you let him. You take it, every rough thrust, every bruising grip, every desperate, needy sound that falls from his lips.

Because this is what you both do.

Use. Ruin. Destroy.

______________________________________________________________________

The dressing room is small, barely more than a closet, the air thick with sweat and the lingering hum of the crowd just beyond the walls. Chris is still pulsing with the energy of the stage, his body electric, his skin glowing under the dim bulbs. He tastes like salt and heat, his chest still rising and falling too fast, adrenaline keeping his limbs loose and restless.

"You—" The word barely leaves him before you're on him, pushing him back against the counter, fingers yanking at his belt, fumbling, rushed. He helps, sort of—hands unsteady, shoving his jeans down just enough, breath coming fast and uneven.

No time for teasing. No time for anything.

You drop to your knees, and he lets out this ragged sound, half-laugh, half-moan, his fingers finding your hair, gripping tight when your mouth wraps around him. He’s already hard, already twitching, already a fucking mess, and the second your tongue drags over him, his hips jerk forward like he can’t control it. You lean in and drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, slow and wet, feeling him throb against your lips before you take him fully into your mouth.

"Shit—" His hand tightens, a sharp pull against your scalp. "Yeah, just like that—"

The door isn’t locked. Anyone could walk in. His name is being screamed just outside this room, time ticking down, the show waiting. It makes it worse. It makes it better.

The heat of his skin, the weight of him in your mouth, the way he twitches every time your tongue drags along a sensitive spot—it’s overwhelming. It’s intoxicating. You press your hands against his thighs to steady yourself, taking him in deeper, swallowing around him until the tip brushes the back of your throat.

Chris groans, a wrecked, guttural sound, his grip in your hair tightening as his hips twitch forward, the edge of desperation creeping in. "Fuck, I–" He barely gets the words out before his breath shudders, thighs trembling under your touch.

Someone knocks at the door.

"Chris! Two minutes!"

His whole body stiffens, a sharp inhale punched out of his chest, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even pull away. If anything, the urgency makes him more reckless, more desperate. His abs clench as you suck him harder, faster, messy and wet, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin.

He’s so fucking close. You can feel it in the way his thighs tighten, in the way his breath comes sharp and shallow, his cock pulsing against your tongue. His grip in your hair turns bruising as he grits out, "M’gonna—"

And then he’s spilling down your throat, his whole body shuddering, hips stuttering against your lips as he moans—deep, broken, lost in it. You swallow everything, letting him ride it out, your tongue flicking over him until he’s too sensitive, his body twitching as he groans low and shaky.

For a moment, all he does is breathe. Ragged, uneven. His chest rising and falling too fast, his fingers still tangled in your hair like he doesn’t want to let go. Chris exhales sharply, running a hand over his face, still catching his breath. 

A thumb swipes over your bottom lip, smearing the mess, his half-lidded gaze burning into you, still glazed, still wrecked.  But then, for a heartbeat, something shifts.

His eyes, usually dark with unrestrained hunger and desperation, flicker with an unfamiliar softness. The relentless, feverish rhythm of his touches falters, and he hesitates. Instead of reaching to claim you with the same raw urgency, his hand lingers on your cheek. His rough grip slackens, and his expression—so often a mask of relentless need—betrays a flicker of something else: tenderness.

Then he’s pulling you up by your jaw, meeting you halfway to kiss you. It’s a quiet, gentle kiss—a soft caress that speaks of apologies and longing rather than conquest. His lips, warm and unexpectedly tender, press against yours with a delicate insistence that makes your heart both ache and flutter. It leaves you gasping for breath in a way he’s never left you before.

There's a banging at the door. “Chris! We need you out here, now!”

The spell is broken. He’s stepping away, and you’re stepping forward, reaching for him,

“Chris–”

But he’s shaking out his wrists, already turning toward the door.

He doesn’t look back before he leaves.

______________________________________________________________________

It’s the last time you see him. Or even hear from him. Every text goes unanswered, every call, straight to voicemail. You wait–wait like the pathetic dreamer you are, hoping that that kiss meant something to him, falling deeper into the void of delusion you’ve built with your own two hands. You devour any information about him you can find on the internet, anything, knowing full well how much of a desperate bitch you’re being.

But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with that last kiss lingering on your tongue, not with the curse of knowing you almost had him, almost had him in the way you wanted—completely, irrevocably, beyond just the heat and the ruin.

Almost.

The days stretch into weeks, and then months. Every night, you tell yourself this is the last time you'll check his socials, the last time you'll search his name, the last time you'll replay every second of that final night over in your head like a fucking broken record. 

But you do it anyway. 

Over and over.

______________________________________________________________________

It’s been a year; you're over it. You swear you are.

The afternoon sun spills lazily over campus, warming the stone pathways as you stand in a loose circle with your friends, conversation drifting easily between topics. Laughter hums around you, light and unbothered.

“I swear to God,” Yeji groans, tossing her head back dramatically, “if Professor Allen assigns one more article, I’m gonna start sending him readings. See how he likes it.”

Hyunjin snorts. “You’re acting like you even do the readings.”

Yeji glares. “First of all, rude. Second of all, I skim—”

“—the first paragraph and call it a day,” you finish for her, smirking.

She gasps, clutching her chest. “Et tu?”

You laugh, about to respond, but stop dead when someone brushes past you. You don’t recognize him, not at first, with his hood up, jacket zipped, his face mostly obscured. But that scent. You would recognize it anywhere.

Something deep and familiar, the mix of his cologne and skin, a warmth that lingers even after he’s passed. Your throat goes tight. Your breath stumbles.

No.

He wouldn’t. He knows better.

You force yourself to keep talking, to keep nodding, to not turn around. But your pulse is already thrumming, a slow-building panic mixed with something darker. Because he’s close. He was right there. And when you finally allow yourself to glance sideways, just for a second, you see him.

Not fully—just the slant of his jaw under the hood, the way his fingers flex at his sides like he’s holding himself back. He doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t say a word. But when he reaches the library steps, he slows.

Waits.

Your stomach tightens.

No.

No, no, no.

Your fingers clench around the strap of your bag.

Before you know it, can register what the hell you're doing, an excuse is falling from your lips and you’re turning on your heel and following him.

The moment you step inside the library, you spot him.

Chris stands tucked between the bookshelves, hood drawn low over his face, but it does nothing to hide him—not from you. You know the way he holds himself, the way his fingers twitch at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for something—someone.

Your blood is already simmering as you make your way toward him, each step measured, controlled. You don’t rush. You don’t let yourself look panicked. Because if you do—if anyone sees—this could all go to hell.

Chris notices you immediately, his shoulders dropping like he’s relieved, like he actually thought you wouldn’t come. And for a split second, his expression is almost soft—almost. But then he sees the fury in your eyes, the tension in your frame, and that softness vanishes.

The moment you see him, you know.

Not just because of the scent—familiar, overwhelming, still burned into your memory after all this time—but because of the way he moves. Too jittery, too restless, like his own skin is too tight, like the air around him is pressing in from all sides.

Chris is high.

You can see it in his pupils, blown wide and glassy, in the way he can’t stay still, shifting from foot to foot, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He looks wired, strung out on something more than just adrenaline.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and for a moment, you think he might actually speak first. But then his mouth snaps shut, jaw clenching as he exhales sharply through his nose.

You don’t ask him why he’s here. You don’t ask him where the fuck he’s been.

Instead, you step closer—just enough for the scent of him to hit you full force, for his breath to mix with yours in the sliver of space between you. His pupils track the movement, slow and deliberate, and for the first time in a year, you feel the weight of his presence again, pressing down on you like a vice.

And you fucking hate it.

"You're out of your mind," you whisper, voice cold and sharp. "Do you even know where you are?"

It clings to him, thick and suffocating—the way his pupils swallow the color of his eyes, the way his hands twitch like he can’t quite keep them steady. He’s a mess of shallow breaths and restless energy, swaying just slightly on his feet, like the weight of the world is finally crushing him.

And maybe it is.

“I need your help,” he rasps, voice raw, broken.

The words slam into you, knocking the air from your lungs. A year. A whole fucking year of nothing—no calls, no texts, no explanations. You grieved him like a ghost, hated him like a curse. And now he’s just here, standing in front of you, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world who can save him.

Your stomach twists violently, rage and disbelief clawing their way up your throat. “You have to be kidding me.”

Chris drags a shaky hand through his hair, pacing, restless. “I don’t have time for this.” His voice is fraying at the edges, unraveling. “One of my own friends—someone I trusted—sold me out. They tipped off the cops. If they find my stash, I’m done. My career, my future—it’s over.” His breath shudders. “I need you to hide it.”

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

You take a step closer, your breath shallow, your voice steady even as your hands tremble at your sides. “You don’t get to do this, Chris.”

His jaw tenses, and for the first time, his mask slips. Just enough for you to see the exhaustion, the weight pressing down on him. His fingers twitch again, like he wants to reach for you but knows he shouldn’t.

“I didn’t mean to—” His voice cracks, and he swallows hard. “I fucked up.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Which time?”

Chris exhales through his nose, his gaze flicking to the ground, then back up to you. He looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he finally, finally, takes a step forward. Just enough that the space between you shrinks, the scent of him clouding your senses. Just enough that you can feel the heat of him, the way he’s barely holding himself together.

“I need you,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “I don’t have anyone else.”

Your breath hitches. Your resolve wavers.

Chris notices. Of course he does.

His fingers ghost over your wrist, just a brush, just a test.

And when you don’t pull away—when you don’t slap his hand, don’t shove him back—he exhales, like he’s been holding it in for a year.

“Please,” he murmurs.

Your hands clench at your sides.

You should say no. You want to say no. Every part of you is screaming at you to walk away, to let him deal with the mess he made, to let the consequences finally catch up to him.

But then you look at him. Really look at him.

Chris isn’t just high—he’s unraveling. His fingers won’t stay still, his shoulders are too tight, his breath too ragged. And his eyes—fuck, his eyes. Wide and bloodshot and filled with something you can’t name, something that makes your chest ache even as your fists clench. He looks like a man on the edge of a cliff, teetering too far forward. Like he’s one wrong move away from falling.

And somehow, against all logic, he’s decided you are the thing that might keep him from going over.

Your stomach twists violently.

"You can’t ask me for this," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Chris swallows, his throat working around something thick. "I know."

But he’s still looking at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the ground, like without you, he might just come apart completely. And it makes you feel sick. Because part of you—some deep, fractured part of you that never really stopped wanting him—wants to be that for him.

 You drag in a slow breath, clenching your jaw so hard it aches. “One week.”

Chris blinks. “What?”

“You get one week,” you repeat, voice sharper now, cutting through whatever fog is clouding his head. “You figure your shit out, and then you come take this garbage back because I’m not—” Your voice wavers, and you hate it. You steel yourself. “I’m not getting caught up in this, Chris.”

His eyes flicker, just for a moment, a sharp flash of something like hope, but the remnants of desperation still cling to his expression. “One week,” he repeats, voice barely above a breath, like he’s testing it out, like he doesn’t believe it. But you can see it in him—he’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, no matter how little, no matter how broken it might be.

You exhale sharply, stepping back a fraction, distancing yourself, even though every fiber of your body wants to close that space. The library feels too small now, too suffocating. Chris remains still, his presence like a weight pressing down on you, but you refuse to move closer, refuse to let him drag you back into his chaos.

Chris nods once, sharp and small. “One week,” he repeats, and the words should sound like a deal, an agreement, but instead, they land like a promise. Or maybe a plea.

You holds his gaze for one more second, then turn before you can second-guess herself. Chris stays where he is, rooted to the floor, watching you walk away. His jaw tenses, his breath shudders, but he doesn’t move.

Because if he moves, he might follow her.

And if he follows, he might never let you go again.

______________________________________________________________

The week crawls by, each day stretching longer than the last. You try to focus—on classes, on assignments, on anything that isn’t him—but it’s useless. His voice lingers in the back of your mind, his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You tell yourself you won’t wait. You won’t check your phone every time it vibrates. You won’t wonder if he’s going to show.

But when it finally rings—his name glowing on the screen—you answer before you can think twice.

"Hey."

Silence. A hesitation, just long enough for doubt to creep in. Then, his voice—soft, uncertain.

"I'm outside." A beat. "If… if that's still okay."

Something tightens in your chest. You glance out the window, at his car lingering just outside your building, forcing your grip to loosen around your phone.

“Are you going to come up?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant, fingers toying with the hem of your t-shirt. You’re just in that simple tee and sweatpants, your face bare. It’s the first time you haven’t dressed up to see him.

You can hear him inhale, imagine him bouncing his knee from where he sits in his car. “I didn’t think you’d want your roommate to see me.”

You brush your hair out of your face, eyes locked on the car outside. “She’s not here. Visiting her parents for the weekend.”

Chris is quiet for a second too long, like he’s weighing the invitation, considering if he should take the step over the line he’s already toeing. Then you hear the jingle of his keys as he pulls it from the engine. “Give me a sec.”

Your stomach tightens as you hang up, fingers gripping your phone a little too hard. You don’t know why you said that. Why you gave him the chance to be close again. You should’ve told him to stay in the car, should’ve just handed him his shit and sent him on his way.

But instead, you stand there, frozen, pulse hammering in your throat as you listen for the sound of his footsteps in the hall.

A knock. Soft. Hesitant. Not the way he used to knock, not the way he used to waltz into your space like he belonged there.

You exhale, slow and measured, before unlocking the door.

And there he is.

Chris stands in the dim glow of the hallway light, hood still up, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looks… tired. Not just in the way his eyes are rimmed red, the slight tremor in his fingers, but deeper than that. Like he hasn’t slept right in months. Like the weight of whatever’s been chasing him is finally catching up.

He exhales when he sees you. “Hey.”

He’s sober. Exhausted, his hair standing in a hundred different directions like he ran his hands through it a million times, but sober. 

“You look like shit,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Chris huffs out a breath, not quite a laugh. “Yeah. Feels about right.” He ducks his head, his hair in his eyes. “You look beautiful.”

You swallow hard, fingers tightening around the edge of the door. You don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t let the way his words settle in your chest distract you from the fact that he shouldn’t be here—that this shouldn’t be happening.

Chris shifts on his feet, glancing past you, toward the inside of your apartment. He doesn’t step forward, doesn’t push. Just waits.

You should tell him to leave. Tell him to take his shit and go.

Instead, you step back. Just enough.

Chris exhales, something flickering in his expression—something like relief, like gratitude, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him in. He hesitates for only a second before crossing the threshold.

The door clicks shut behind him, and suddenly, the air in the room is heavier. You can feel him everywhere. The scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating off him. It’s suffocating and familiar and everything you swore you wouldn’t let yourself want again.

He doesn’t belong here. Not in the soft glow of your apartment, not in the quiet hum of your space that’s been untouched by him for over a year. But he’s here anyway, and you can feel it in your bones, the way he fills the room, the way the air thickens just by his presence.

You close the door. Neither of you speak.

Chris drags a hand through his hair, finally pushing his hood down. His dark eyes flick around the room, taking in everything—the textbooks on your desk, the half-empty cup of tea on the counter, the blanket thrown haphazardly over the arm of the couch. Domestic. Normal. Everything he isn’t.

His gaze settles back on you, his throat working like he wants to say something, but the words don’t come.

So you speak first.

“Do you want something to drink?”

He clears his throat, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I–yeah. Just..just water.”

You nod, turning toward the kitchen. Your movements are steady, controlled, but your heart is hammering in your chest, every nerve hyper-aware of the man standing behind you.

When you turn back to him, glass in hand, he’s watching you. Not in the way he used to—not with hunger, not with heat—but with something you can’t quite place. His fingers twitch at his sides, and when he finally reaches out to take the glass, his touch lingers. Barely. Just long enough to send a shiver up your spine.

He drinks, slow, deliberate. Like he’s using it as an excuse to keep from speaking. His throat bobs, his lips parting around the rim of the glass, and you hate that you notice, hate that you remember what those lips felt like against yours, what they tasted like when he kissed you that last time—soft and lingering, like an apology, like a goodbye.

But he’s here now.

And you don’t know what the fuck that means.

Chris exhales as he sets the glass down, raking a hand through his hair. His shoulders slump, his body finally stilling in a way it hasn’t all night. He looks wrecked. He looks lost.

And then, finally, he speaks.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he says, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. His gaze flickers to you, raw, exposed. “I don’t know if I even can.”

You lean back against the wall, arms cross across your chest. “Fix what?”

He leans his head back opposite you, exhaling. “I don’t know. Everything. Myself.” He glances down at her through the hair over his eyes. “Us.”

Your chest tightens but you purse your lips, unwilling to say anything. His expression softens. 

“I’m sorry.”

Two words. Small. Insufficient. But the weight of them still lands heavy in the space between you.

You fold your arms over your chest. “For what?”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and you know he understands the real question beneath your words. Which thing, Chris? Which fucking thing are you apologizing for?

His jaw tenses. “For all of it.”

You let out a breath that feels like it’s been sitting in your lungs for a year. You don’t know what to do with this—this version of him, the one who looks at you like he regrets everything, the one whose voice doesn’t hold the usual bravado but something closer to guilt.

It would be so much easier if he came back the way he left. If he was still that same reckless, selfish, untouchable version of himself. You could hate that version. You could send him away without hesitation.

But this? This is harder.

Chris shifts on his feet, rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to disappear like that.”

“You did, though.” The words come out flat. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

He flinches. “I thought it was better that way.”

“For who?”

Chris doesn’t answer right away. His eyes drop to the floor, his fingers flex at his sides. “For you.”

A bitter laugh pushes past your lips before you can stop it. “Bullshit.”

His gaze snaps back up. You shake your head, unable to keep the anger from bleeding into your voice.

“You don’t get to come back after a year and act like you did this for me, Chris. You left. You fucking ghosted me like I was nothing. And now, what? You suddenly need something, so I matter again?”

“No.” His voice is sharp, urgent. “That’s not—fuck.” He drags a hand down his face. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

Your stomach clenches. You hate how badly you want to believe him.

You look away, focusing on the wall, the floor, anywhere but his face. “Then why did you leave?”

Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

Chris exhales, and when he speaks again, his voice is lower. Rougher. “Because I was fucked up. Because I thought I was protecting you. Because I didn’t know how to be around you without wanting more than I should.”

Your breath stumbles.

Chris steps forward—just half a step, just enough that you can feel the warmth of him again. He hesitates, fingers twitching at his sides, like he wants to touch you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

“I wasn’t good for you,” he murmurs. “I’m still not.”

Chris is standing close now, too close, his presence like gravity, pulling you in even when you know you shouldn’t let it. His breath is shallow, his fingers still twitching like he doesn’t know what to do with them. And his eyes—fuck, his eyes. Dark, wide, searching.

You take a slow breath, steadying yourself. "Then why are you here?"

Chris exhales sharply, his gaze flickering away for just a second before locking onto yours again. “Because I didn’t know where else to go.”

The words settle between you like a confession, and something in your chest twists painfully.

You should be angry. You are angry. But anger is easy. Anger is safe. What scares you is the part of you that still wants to reach for him, to pull him in, to fix the cracks in him even though you know you’ll only end up breaking yourself in the process.

Your fingers curl into fists at your sides. "You don’t get to do that, Chris. You don’t get to leave me for a year and then show up and say that."

“I know.” His voice is quiet, raw. “But I’m here anyway.”

Chris is still waiting, still watching you like he’s bracing for you to tell him to go. And you should. You should slam the door on this before it’s too late, before you let yourself believe that this time will be different.

But then Chris reaches out.

It’s hesitant, like he expects you to flinch away, but you don’t. His fingers barely skim yours, a whisper of a touch, but it’s enough. It sends something electric skittering through your veins, something familiar and dangerous and impossible to ignore.

Your breath catches.

Chris notices. Of course he does.

“I fucked up,” he says again, softer this time. “I don’t know how to make it right.”

You shake your head, exhaling a laugh that isn’t really a laugh at all. “You think you can just show up here and apologize and everything will be fine?”

“No,” he says. “I think I can show up here and tell you the truth for once.”

You stare at Chris, searching his face for any sign that this is just another one of his half-truths, another attempt to say just enough to keep you from slamming the door in his face. But there’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something raw, something stripped down to the bone.

And that’s almost worse.

Because if he’s telling the truth, then you don’t know what to do with it.

Your voice is quieter this time, not as sharp, not as sure. “Then say it. Say whatever it is you came here to say.”

Chris swallows hard, his fingers flexing at his sides like he’s physically holding himself back. Then he exhales, his breath shaky, his whole body tense like he’s about to step off the edge of something.

“I left because I was scared,” he says finally. “Scared of what I felt. Scared of what it meant.”

Your stomach tightens, a sharp pull of something between anger and heartbreak. “Scared of what?”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Of you.” His gaze flickers away for half a second before he forces it back to yours. “Of how much I—” He stops, his jaw clenching. “Of how much I fucking needed you.”

The confession knocks the breath from your lungs.

Chris drags a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his features. “I didn’t know how to handle it. You were—” He stops again, shaking his head like the words won’t come out right. “You made me feel things I didn’t know how to deal with. And instead of facing it, I ran.”

You inhale sharply, something breaking open in your chest. “And now?”

Chris takes a step closer.

You don’t step back.

“Now I know that running didn’t change anything,” he says. His voice is rough, almost desperate. “I still need you. I still—” He swallows. “I never stopped.”

Chris shifts, hesitating like he’s afraid any sudden movement will make you disappear. His voice is softer now, barely above a whisper. “Say something.”

You wet your lips, forcing yourself to breathe. “What do you want me to say, Chris?”

He flinches, just a little. Like he wasn’t expecting that. Like he thought you’d have some kind of answer, when the truth is, you don’t.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “That you understand? That you—” He exhales sharply, his hands curling into fists before he relaxes them again. “That you still—”

“Don’t.” The word is sharp, cutting through whatever he was about to say. “You don’t get to ask me that.”

Chris swallows hard, nodding once. Like he gets it. Like he deserves it.

The night hums around you—distant traffic, the whisper of wind through the trees—but all you can hear is the quiet sound of Chris breathing, the weight of everything he isn’t saying pressing between you.

You sigh, softer this time. “Chris.”

His gaze snaps to yours, desperate, waiting.

“I can’t be the reason you stay,” you say, your voice steady but gentle. “And I won’t be the reason you break yourself trying.”

His brows draw together, a flicker of something like panic flashing across his face. “That’s not—” He stops, jaw tightening. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” You tilt your head, studying him. “You show up here, after a year, after leaving me behind, and suddenly you want another chance?” You shake your head, not in anger, but in something softer. Sadder. “You’re still searching, Chris. Still trying to find something to hold onto. And I won’t be that. Not like this.”

Chris runs a hand over his face, his shoulders tense. “I’m not asking you to fix me.”

“No,” you say quietly. “But you want me to be the thing that makes this easier.”

He flinches.

You don’t push, don’t press where it hurts, but you hold your ground.

“I loved you,” you admit, and the words feel like pulling stitches from an old wound. “Maybe I still do. But I won’t have you in pieces.”

Chris stands there, his breath uneven, his whole body trembling like he’s barely holding himself together. Then, barely louder than a whisper— “I don’t know how.” 

His voice cracks, and the sound of it—God, the sound of it—splinters something inside you. His eyes are wet, his throat working as he tries to swallow down the weight of his own admission.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. It would be so easy to reach for him, to pull him in, to tell him you’ll help him figure it out. But that’s not your place. Not anymore. Chris drags a shaky hand through his hair, his breaths uneven. 

“I don’t—I don’t know how to fix myself.” His voice is thick with tears, his body tensed like he’s waiting for you to turn away, to give up on him entirely. “I don’t even know where to start.” You exhale slowly, steadying yourself before you speak. “Then start small.” 

Chris blinks at you, like he wasn’t expecting that. You keep your voice soft but sure. “Find a rehab center. Talk to a therapist. You’ve been carrying all of this alone, and it’s too heavy. You need help, Chris.”

 His jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists before he releases them. He nods once, barely there, like he’s trying to take in your words but isn’t sure how. 

“Figure out what’s hurting,” you continue, gentler now. “And then work on healing it. Not for me. Not for anyone else. For you.” 

Chris exhales sharply, dragging his sleeve across his face, but the tears keep coming. “I don’t want to do this without you,” he whispers. “I don’t want—” His voice catches, and he shakes his head. “I don’t want to lose you.” 

You swallow against the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you admit, the words quiet but honest. “But if I hold on to you like this, we’ll both drown.

He doesn’t move when you reach for him, cupping his cheek softly, thumb brushing away the stray tears. You pull him toward you, resting your forehead against his.

Chris squeezes his eyes shut, his breath coming in shallow, uneven bursts. For a moment, you think he might argue, might fight against the truth of your words like he always does. But when he opens his eyes again, there’s something different there—something breaking, something shifting.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” he admits, voice so quiet it almost gets lost in the night air. “What if I—I don’t know how to be without you.”

You step forward, just a little, just enough to be close but not close enough to fall. “You won’t be without me,” you say, gentle but firm. “I’ll be hoping for you. I’ll be rooting for you. But I can’t be with you—not like this.”

Chris nods, but it’s shaky, uncertain, like he’s trying to make himself believe it. “And if I get better?” His voice is raw, desperate in a way that tugs at something deep inside you. “If I—if I figure it out?”

You inhale, the ache in your chest tightening. “Then maybe you come find me.”

Chris’ breath stutters. His eyes flick across your face like he’s memorizing every part of you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks.His hand reaches for your face, shaking, hesitant, fingers threading through your hair.

You let him touch you, just this once. Just for a moment.

His fingers tremble against your skin, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. But you won’t let him make this harder than it already is. You bring your hand up, gently wrapping around his wrist, grounding him.

“Chris,” you whisper, and the way his eyes snap to yours—like your voice is the only thing tethering him to the earth—almost undoes you.

He swallows hard, blinking rapidly against the tears still threatening to fall. His thumb ghosts over your cheek, the touch so heartbreakingly familiar it makes your chest tighten. “I don’t want to go.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But you have to.”

His breath shudders as he exhales. “And if I’m not strong enough?”

“You are.” Your fingers tighten around his wrist, steady, certain. “You just have to believe it, too.”

Chris lets out a broken sound—something between a laugh and a sob. He presses his forehead to yours, his body trembling. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.”

You close your eyes for a brief second, letting yourself feel it. The weight of him, the warmth, the way his presence has always felt too much and not enough all at once.

Then, you pull back. Not much, but enough. Enough to be clear.

“This isn’t goodbye,” you murmur. “This is me giving you the chance to come back as the version of yourself you’re meant to be.”

Chris’ breath catches. He nods, but it’s slow, reluctant. Like a part of him is still holding on, still hoping there’s another way. But there isn’t.

You step back, and Chris’ hand falls away from your face.

The night air feels colder without his warmth so close.

He stares at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, like he’s trying to find something—maybe a reason to stay, maybe a reason to believe he can do this.

Then, finally, he takes a step back.

And then another.

His hands shake, his breath still uneven, but this time, he doesn’t fight it. He just looks at you, memorizing, holding on to whatever piece of you he can before he turns to go.

He pauses for a moment, glancing back at you. "What did you do with it?"

You know what he's asking. You smile slightly. "Threw it in the river the same day I got it."

Chris stares at you, something flickering in his eyes—something like understanding, something like devastation. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his hands clenching at his sides.

He exhales a shaky breath, glancing away for a moment before looking back at you. "Good," he says, but it sounds like it hurts to say it.

You nod, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips. "Good," you echo, softer.

Silence stretches between you, heavy but not unbearable. It feels like an ending. A real one.

Chris drags a hand through his hair, eyes flicking over you one last time, like he's trying to commit you to memory. And then, finally, he turns.

You watch him go.

His shoulders are hunched, his steps slow, hesitant, like he's still fighting every instinct that tells him to stay. But he doesn’t.

This time, he leaves.

And this time, you let him.

The night is quiet when he's gone, the absence of him settling over you like a sigh, like the closing of a book you thought you might never put down.

You inhale deeply, closing your eyes for just a moment.

Then you turn, stepping back into the light, and walk away.

______________________________________________________________

Two years have passed.

You know this not just by the changing seasons or the inevitable countdown to graduation but by the world itself shifting, reshaping in ways you never expected.

Chris went on an indefinite hiatus from music nearly a year ago. The headlines had been relentless—speculation, concern, theories spun out of control. But the truth, the quiet truth buried beneath the noise, was that he had admitted himself into rehab.

You remember staring at the news article, your coffee growing cold between your hands. There had been no fanfare, no dramatic statement—just a quiet, honest confession in an interview months later: I needed help. So I got it.

You never reached out. And he never did either.

Now, you’re here—twenty-two, a senior in college, balancing coursework and a part-time job at a café that smells like burnt espresso and exhaustion.

And right now, you’re pissed.

Rush hour has turned the place into chaos, your boss is breathing down your neck about an order that isn’t even yours, and someone just knocked over an entire tray of drinks, leaving you to mop up a mess that isn’t your fault.

You exhale sharply, pushing stray hair from your face as you grab your notepad and make your way to the next table, your voice tight with forced patience.

“What can I get you?”

There’s a pause.

Then—

“How about five minutes of your time?”

The voice stops you in your tracks.

Deeper. Steadier. But still him.

Your grip tightens on the notepad as you finally look up.

Chris leans back in his chair, watching you with that same quiet intensity that always made you feel like the only person in the room. You don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. You just stare back, unimpressed. 

“Five minutes,” you say flatly. 

His lips twitch. “Generous.” You arch a brow. 

“I can make it three.” 

Chris huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I think I’ll behave.” 

You tap your notepad against the table, tilting your head. “So? Is this where you tell me you’ve spent the last two years soul-searching in the mountains, learning inner peace from a wise old man with a beard down to his knees?” 

Chris grins, quick and easy, like muscle memory. “Close. The wise old man was my therapist, and his beard was more mildly unkempt than knee-length.” 

A snort escapes you before you can stop it. Chris’ smile softens at the sound, like he’s been waiting for it. You shut it down quickly, clearing your throat. 

“So, you actually did it.” 

His expression turns serious, just a little. “Yeah. I did.” 

You hold his gaze. “Good.” 

Something flickers in his eyes, something unreadable. Then, casually, “You still throw things in rivers when you don’t know what to do with them?” 

Your stomach tightens at the memory. You should’ve known he’d bring it up “Depends. Planning to give me something else to get rid of?” 

Chris hums, considering. “I did have a mix tape ready. Very moody. Lots of self-pity.” 

You roll your eyes. “Tragic that I’ll never hear it.” 

“Truly.” He pauses, watching you again. “You look good.” 

You hesitate for half a second before responding, keeping your voice light. “I get a lot of fresh air.” 

Chris smirks. “Ah, yes. The glamorous café life.” “

You joke, but I will make you pay for a coffee if you keep sitting here.” 

He presses a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “You wouldn’t.” 

“Try me.” 

Chris laughs again, but this time, it’s quieter. Realer. Silence settles between you, softer than before. 

Then, smoothly—too smoothly—he leans forward a fraction. “So… is there someone?”

You blink. “Someone what?”

He shrugs, all casual, like he’s not watching you too closely. “Someone who gets to bother you during your shifts without needing to buy coffee first?”

The question shouldn’t catch you off guard, but it does. You tilt your head, feigning thoughtfulness.“That’s what you’re asking with your last two minutes?”

Chris huffs a laugh, but his fingers tap restlessly against the table. “Just curious.”

 You hesitate, then shrug. “I’ve gone on dates.” 

His jaw flexes, just barely. “And?” 

You sigh, giving him a look. “And nothing.” 

Chris watches you for a second longer, then nods, like he’s filing the answer away. “Good.” You raise an eyebrow. 

“Good?” 

His lips twitch. “I’d hate to be competing with some six-foot-something finance bro.” 

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “I’d pay to see you go head-to-head with one.” 

Chris hums. “I’d win.” 

You scoff. “Bold assumption.” He grins. “I’ve been working out.” 

You roll your eyes but don’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips.. “And you?”

Chris hums, considering. “Well, my therapist and I had a very meaningful relationship for a while there.”

You snort. “That does not count.”

“I disagree. We had weekly dates. I overshared. He judged me just enough.” Chris grins, then shakes his head. “No. No one.”

Silence again.

Chris watches you, waiting. But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask for more than you’re willing to give.

You tap your pen against your notepad, weighing your next words carefully. Then, finally—soft, simple, certain—you say, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Something shifts in his expression, something that looks a little like relief. Like maybe, after all this time, he finally believes he deserves to be.

You nod toward his empty cup. “But if you’re planning to sit here all night, you’re gonna have to order a coffee.”

Chris grins, small but real. “Yeah?”

You shrug. “House rules.”

He leans back in his chair, considering. “Then I guess I’ll stay a little longer.”

The café hums around you, the rush of customers fading into background noise. You should be moving, taking orders, doing anything other than standing here, caught in the pull of something that still feels a little dangerous.

 But you don’t move. 

Chris studies you for a second longer, then exhales, slow and steady. “One coffee, then,” he says, tapping the table. “Surprise me.”

 You scribble something on your notepad. “You’re getting decaf.”

 He groans. “Cruel.”

Chris groans, but there’s no real frustration behind it—just something softer, something familiar.

As you turn to leave, he calls after you, voice quieter this time. “Hey.”

You glance back.

His fingers drum lightly against the table, hesitation flickering across his face before settling into something steadier. “It’s good to see you.”

The words land heavier than they should. You don’t let them show, just offer a small, knowing smile. “Yeah,” you say. “You too.”

Then, before the moment stretches too long, you slip back into the rush of the café—into the orders, the chaos, the normalcy of it all. But there’s a shift, small but undeniable, like something once left behind has found its way back.

And maybe this time it’s here to stay.

[wwwrottoncxrecom]

Breath with me, baby

Pairings: BangChan x 9th member!Reader

Summary: The second your logged in, notifications fill the side of the screen. All emails from your team, most of them containing guidelines to deal with the stalker. The room falls back into a thick silence

Warnings: heavy references to throwing up and anxiety, reader has a panic attack, descriptions of a panic attack, stalking, cussing (one time), angst, this fic is heavy asf, i think thats it ??

Word count: 1.3k

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Everything felt like it was falling apart at what was, supposed to be, the best time in your life. You finally started the process to debut as a soloist and everything was falling apart. Someone leaked your debut album and you’ve caught the eye of a sasaeng. Said “fan” has made it their life goal to make yours as unsafe and fear inducing as possible while believing everything they were doing was normal. You could throw up. 

You push past the doors of JYP’s building, the taste of bile slowly raising the longer you think about what’s happening. Everything was so normal a mere month ago, how did it all come crashing down this quick? How did you manage to miss so many signs that this was gonna happen? 

You skip on the elevator, not wanting to be in a confined space so quiet right now. As your feet thud up the stairs, your mind races with memories of signs you so blatantly ignored. This fan wasn’t new. But it started innocent enough that you brushed it off. But when the dms went from sweet fan messages to pictures of your house, you started to realize it wasn’t as innocent as it originally came off. 

A headache is beginning to form, and you slowly raise a hand to rub at your forehead. Why you? Why anyone? Why were idols expected to be ok with dealing with this simply because they’re famous? The thought only increases the feeling of your heavily increasing nausea. With weak steps, you manage to reach the studio door. 

The door opens, and you’re immediately hit with Chan’s cologne. It calms you, as do the dims lights. You two lock eyes and your shoulders visible relax. There’s a unspoken conversation between you before he’s standing and pulling you into a tight hug. You swiftly hug back, albeit not with the same amount the strength. 

“It’s ok. Do you wanna talk about it?” You shake your head, and he mumbles a soft ok. One of his hands moves to your hair and he softly threads his fingers through the strands. It relaxes you, and you melt into his embrace. A couple minutes passes before you feel comfortable enough to pull out of the hug. You look up at him and he softly rubs his nose against yours, giving you an eskimo kiss. 

“What do you wanna do?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but you hear it perfectly. The question is simple, but it causes you to think and you don’t really want to do that. So you quickly shake your head and fully pull away from his embrace. You reach for your bag, unzipping it and pulling out your lyric journal. 

“Can we work on my album? My mental state has changed over the past couple months and I’m considering a new concept with everything going on.” There’s a deafening silence after your slip up. You stare at each other for a brief second before he’s opening his mouth to question it.

“What do you mean with everything going on?” The panic starts to raise again, causing your breath to pick up slightly. How did you let that slip? Why did you let that slip? The bile is slowly raising in your throat again and it takes everything inside of you not to throw up. The silence is deafening, and you quickly come up with a lie.

“Schedule wise. With my solo debut and our comeback in Stray Kids, It’s just a lot.” Chan seems to buy the lie as he nods. You let a breath of relief, and allow Chan to see your journal. You trust him enough to not judge you. Trust him enough to see the layers that you have peeled back in that journal. Despite all this trust, you couldn’t tell him about what was really going on. The guilt of worrying him gnawing at your bones like a dog with a bone. It was suffocating, it had a grip on you that you just couldn’t release. 

You trusted him with your life, that’s why you couldn’t tell him the truth. 

The more the lie sits on your mind, the more the panic starts to creep into your throat. As the urge to throw up returns, your hands start to tingle and shake. The rooms shinks and everything started to feel suffocating. It feels like your lungs are tightening, your nose is tingling and air refuses to enter it. Just before you can tip over the edge into full blown panic, Chan softly touches your shoulder. 

“Hey. I’ve been talking to you for the past minute. You’re obviously not in the right mindset to be working, so how about we schedule for another day?” You suck in deep breaths before slowly nodding. You reach for your planner thats tucked away in your bag. Upon opening it, the tingling returns. Most of the dates are filled with fan calls, all for the same person. You quickly slam thee planner shut, throwing it roughly back into your bag. Chan eyes you but doesn’t say anything, simply watching as you instead grab your laptop.

In an attempt to escape the reality that’s becoming increasingly obvious, you decide to use to the calendar on your laptop. It’s a personal one, still having important dates but it allowed for a less stressful approach. Or, that’s what you were hoping for.

“Come here, we can pick a day together.” The second your logged in, notifications fill the side of the screen. All emails from your team, most of them containing guidelines to deal with the stalker. The room falls back into a thick silence. You know Chan is reading the emails, if roles were reversed you would be doing the same. You usually have nothing to hide from each other. Unfortunately for you, you did have something to hide.  

“Wait, I can explain-” The panic is raising, your breathing is back to a rapid pace, your hands starting to shake as the tingling returns. His lips are moving, but your brain isn’t allowing for your ears to process what he’s saying. You look away from him, the look in his eyes only increasing what your feeling.

“..Are you even listening to me? Where are you going that you can’t fucking listen to me?” Silence, then his face quickly reflects both hurt, regret, and realization. The look makes you sick to your stomach. 

“I didn’t mean to yell, i’m sorry. But you should of told me this was going on. You lied to me earlier when I asked what you meant. Why? Do you not trust me?” The tears start to flow at that and you quickly shake your head. 

“I trust you with my life, but I knew you would react like this and I couldn’t handle it. I still can’t handle it. I can’t handle you being worried about me like this, it makes me sick. It drives me insane.” His face relaxes slight at that, but you can still tell he’s still upset. 

“I understand you don’t want me to worry, but how you feel about me worrying is how I feel about you worrying about me. I’m your boyfriend, I’m supposed to be there with you in moments that are hard. That’s why I’m here. I wish you told me so I could of helped.” The tears flow harder, causing your shoulders to start shaking. Chan pulls you into a big hug, softly rubbing your back.

“Breath with me, baby.” He breaths in slowly and you follow after him. As he exhales, you exhale. After doing this for a few minutes, the sobs turn into soft sniffles and the occasional hiccup. Chan whispers sweet nothings until you pull away from him. He leans back down and gives you another eskimo kiss. 

“What do you need from me?”

“I just need you here.” 

[eevenus]

Like You, Love You - {B.C.}

pairing: nonidol!roomie!bangchan x reader genre: fluff turned angst, mutual pining, jealousy jealousyyyyy summary: After moving to Seoul for a new job, you grow close with your ever so handsome roommate. Close enough to develop feelings. What happens when anxiety and insecurities get in the way of you both confessing? warnings: small mention of insecurities on both sides, shirtless chan (gasp), and some arguing toward the end (lemme if i forgot something) word count: 5.6k notes: this will probably end up being a lil mini series if you guys want a second part!! but yeah this is my first official fic here so aaaaa please let me know if you like it by liking and reposting theenk yew!! also Joon is a random guy i swear he's not Namjoon but you're so free to imagine him as Namjoon. theenkz, byeeee. dividers by @sister-lucifer

“And now this?” The silence following ripped all the air from your lungs, the sharp look in his eyes seemed to judge every part of you. 

When you first moved to Seoul, offered the opportunity to transfer from your small cubicle job to your current job as an assistant to a bank CEO, you would have never expected to have such an immature argument with your roommate. This was not what you envisioned for yourself when you had packed your entire small town life into a bunch of cheap cardboard boxes, and drove your beatdown car you’ve had with you since your teens into the city. Not at all, when you carried said boxes, a couple at a time, through the lobby of your new apartment as the rain poured down with such heavy winds you felt like one misstep would have you and your boxes flying down the sidewalk. Nothing like what you had pictured, when you finally got all your boxes upstairs and unlocked your door that greeted you with a wonderful oaky and cinnamon scent.

Finding an apartment right in the business district of the city was rather difficult, or rather expensive, to handle all on your own. What better way to manage it than to find a roommate? Luckily this particular apartment building offered a special kind of service, a questionnaire of sorts that pairs you with a roommate that would share similar interests, within the same age range, and the option to decide if you want someone of the same gender or not. When you had first filled it out you had figured you would be at work for most of the time during the week, and you wouldn’t interact much with your roommate besides hellos and goodbyes. So it didn’t really matter much to you who they were, if you would get along, but you completed the form anyways. A week later the apartment complex approved your lease agreement, met with you for a down payment, and paired you with a random roommate.  

That first day was quiet, save for the squeak of your rain soaked shoes against the laminate floors and your own grunts and groans as you carried your moving boxes in. No one had seemed to be home, but the warm, masculine scent that filled the open air was enough to comfort you. Reminding you much of the cozy warm nook you would sit in to watch the sun go down in your childhood home’s kitchen. Luckily, you didn't have to investigate which room would be yours as your roommate had kindly left you a note on the empty room’s door.

“Hey there, Roomie! I’ll be in the room just across the hall if you ever need anything. I work long nights and sleep during the day, so you might not see me often but it’ll be nice to have someone else around. I was starting to go crazy up here all alone. Hope we bump into each other soon!                                         - Chris” 

The handwriting was a bit sloppy, and a bit shaky on some letters, as if it were written on his way out and taped to this door in a hurry. Which would make sense then, as when you had first arrived the sun had already begun to set and by the information given in the note…your new roommate wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. But you had a name to note, and though you hadn’t met yet…Chris sounded kind enough. 

The days would carry on like this for a little while. Both of you tended to miss each other due to conflicting schedules. You had even begun to find that your five am alarm was useless when you were woken up just before it rang obnoxiously on your nightstand by the thumping footsteps of your roommate, and a secondary thud of his duffle bag, that he’d always leave by the front door, hitting the ground. It was like clockwork. 4:58 am would glow on your phone just as his keys roughly jiggle at the lock and with a little shove your door would creak a high-pitched cry as it opened. Chris had left you a few notes here and there, scribbled on sticky notes and scattered around, letting you know things about the apartment the longer you stayed. 

A sticky note on the fridge read that the light goes out once a week, he promises to fix it soon. A sticky note on the toilet had read that the tank is a bit too small as he had to replace it one night after a house party where his friend, Changbin, had run into it on a drunken stumble into the bathroom and consequently broke it. It had been loosely installed even when he moved in, so it was bound to happen. You have to flush twice at times. A sticky note on the front door that told you of how when the weather changes and gets too hot, too cold, too rainy, the door needs an extra little shove to open and close. The material the door is made out of flexes and the building is due to replace them. 

After a few weeks, you grew to anticipate his loud homecomings. Still yet to catch his face, you could hear him talk sometimes as he discarded his shoes and jewelry by the sofa. You had noticed a small ceramic plate that sat on the coffee table the first few days after the move in, it was always filled with several rings, a watch, and several pairs of earrings. He was tidy at the least, that you appreciated, but your curious mind was begging for you to find what he looked like. So some mornings you’d wake well before he came home, and listen on your bed for him to come home, but it always seemed those were the mornings he’d simply drop his shoes and duffle bag and walk straight to his room. You had only been able to catch his back the first few attempts, broad and covered by a black tee that hugged his shoulders nicely. 

It was a month before you met him properly, after you were given a Friday off for Chuseok celebrations. Allowing yourself to sleep in, you were greeted with the smells and sounds of cooking in the kitchen when you rustled awake. Your phone read it was just past noon, and the salty scents of whatever your roommate had been cooking pulled you out into the common

area like a siren’s song. Your hair was in all directions, an indication of a good night’s rest for once, and your pajama shirt and shorts hung haphazardly on your body. It had been years since you had a true home cooked meal, with all your time dedicated to work it was just easier to buy takeout or convenience store foods on the way home than cook. 

Only when you had reached the cold tile of the kitchen did you open your eyes, and there he was. His bare back to you, the muscles you hadn’t noticed before tensed and defined as he worked between the two pans on the stove. A pair of dark gray sweats barely clinging to his hips, just low enough to see the waistband of his boxers. You had only noticed your staring when he sniffled in an attempt to clear his nose, which had sounded a bit irritated and slightly clogged from the changes in the weather. A quick attempt to fix your clothes and pat down your hair in the time before he turned around to put a used dish in the sink within the island to your right was almost useless. Your clothes were a bit better, but your hair wouldn’t have gone down without a good brush through. 

“Smells good.” Was all you had managed to get out when he finally turned your way, a hand still trying to pat down your hair. Chan had paused halfway through putting the dish in the sink, the bowl almost slipping out of his hands when he saw you. Suddenly he had felt incredibly naked in front of you and haphazardly slipped the bowl into the sink so he could quickly cross his arms over his chest. The two of you had stared as the bowl rolled around in the metal sink for a few seconds before settling on its side. “Thanks-” He cleared his throat, leaning his weight into his left leg, “Thank you.” You noted then how the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks grew a dark pink color the longer you looked at him, and moved your gaze around his waist to the pans behind him. Taking a few steps closer, and one step to the side, you inspect what was in them. “You’re welcome.” You smile at him, slightly bumping sides as you close your eyes to breathe the scents once more. “What is it?” “Haemul-pajeon.” He mumbles, moving off to the side to leave you more room to inspect everything. You could feel his eyes on you as he scratched at a spot just above his elbow. “I only made enough for myself, I thought you were at work. Um, if you want…I can make you some too.” 

Your eyes hesitantly tear away from the delicious savory smelling pancake in the pan to meet his own, not able to help the smile that pulls at your lips as you finally get a good look at his face. Even now, you remember it feeling like such a win. As if you’d been running a marathon the last month and finally hit the bright white ribbon of victory. This face you’d been imagining and drawing up in your mind was nothing compared to that of the real thing. His dark eyes that opened themselves to you, his large nose and sharp jaw that seemed as if chiseled by the gods, and his lips that seemed so plump and soft that it had taken everything out of you to not touch them. Everything about him just seemed so warm and inviting, including his voice. With that lulling, relaxed Australian accent. 

“You don’t have to, but I would…really like that. It looks like it tastes as good as it smells.” 

He had been quick to pour you a cup of coffee after that, asking how you take it and making himself repeat it a few times to remember for the future, and assure you that you could go ahead and sit while he finishes up. Even telling you to pick something to watch before running back off to the stove, stealing glances with you every now and again as he hummed a random tune under his breath. Indecisive on what would suit both your interests, you had selected a random nature documentary. Everyone loves a good film about baby animals, right? 

It wasn’t long after that that Chris was back in the living room with a plate for each of you, some silverware, and the biggest smile on his face. As you accepted the plate a small breathy laugh escaped you, he had drawn a big smiley face with some sort of creamy brown sauce on top of the pancake (seemingly homemade). “If you told me a month ago I’d be living with a shirtless roommate who makes me food I would have smacked you.” You silently thanked him with a nod as you took your utensils from him, as you went to take a bite you noticed he even cut it into little squares for you. He coughed a bit as he sat beside you on the sofa, leaning forward to drink his coffee to calm it. 

“I should go…get dressed.” He mumbles, setting his cup down next to the plate that now sat on the coffee table in front of you both. Attempting to stand before he feels your soft hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Chris. This is your home too, you should feel comfortable. At least you have pants on.” Your hand moves from his arm as you go back to eating your food, which had made you sigh with every other bite. The warmth of it spreads through your body as if to encase you in the feeling of home. “Plus…your food will be cold by the time you get back.” Chris blinked for a moment as he studied your expression, aside from the little microexpressions you made while eating. “You remembered?” “What?” “My name. From the notes.” 

Trying to not speak again with a full mouth, you cover your lips with the back of your hand and swallow. “Of course, it meant a lot to me back then, that you took the time to show me around even if you couldn’t physically be here. It was nice, and you signed every note. So yeah…I remembered.” Chewing at the inside of his cheek, he wiggles just a bit in his seat as he reaches forward to grab his food. Dimpled smile shining as he stares at his plate. “I’m glad it helped. I know I would have wanted someone to have told me when I first moved in a year ago, so…I’m just- I’m happy it helped you get more comfortable here.” 

A mumbled thank you between bites was the last of the conversation that afternoon besides any small comments regarding the documentary you two were watching. It was nice to finally put a face to the name that had made you feel so at home, and so quickly. You had retired early that evening, after some more food and tv binging, to prepare for the long drive home the following day to visit family for the holiday. But you couldn’t help the feeling that you wish you would’ve stayed up just a little longer. 

The following months had you and Chris growing closer and closer everyday. Chris would stay awake a bit longer after he’d come home, enough to make a quick breakfast and eat with you before you leave. In return you’d stay up a little later as well when you’d finally get home to make and eat dinner with him before he was running off to his own job. It grew into a routine. During these times, you’d learn tidbits about each other.  A little more each day. 

You learned Chris adored music, and even worked with pretty well known singers to produce tracks for them at a local studio. In his spare time he writes his own lyrics and songs, shared with his friends who create with him at times. You also know that although he loves his decently slow life, he hopes his own tracks will make their own history one day, but how he worries about the risk of losing his connections to his family and friends. You shared how working around banks wasn’t exactly your dream but it paid well enough, and how you adored travelling. Choosing to live in South Korea was a move that not only you made but your family, as they share your travel bug, and how one big family trip to Seoul sold everyone on the move. A few days later you share how you would have rathered a creative job like his, and how you hope to one day pursue a passion job…if you could only find time to find what your passion is. 

“I like you.” He had said one morning, causing you to snort the orange juice you had just poured yourself. “What?” You asked, ignoring how he laughed at your mishap and walked across the kitchen to wipe your nose with a napkin. 

“I like you. Like- Okay-” Chris chuckles out, stumbling over his words when his brain moves quicker than his mouth, “I like how you balance things. How you’re able to work so hard and yet make time for your family…and me, I guess. That’s what I meant. I like how your brain works.” 

“Oh.” You simply sigh, clearing your throat of the slight pain it still had from the orange juice, “Thank you?” 

“You’re welcome! Keep letting me pick your brain like this, and I’ll make you anything you want for breakfast.” He beams, taking a quickly animated bite of the omelett he’d made that morning.

“Anything?” “Anything.” “You’ve got yourself a deal, Bahng.” “Glad to hear it. Now eat up and eat well, you’ve gotta leave soon.” A final warning as he checked the watch on his wrist, and one you had followed before waving and rushing out the door. 

Weeks pass, and months too, as you learn each other’s quirks and routines. You picked up on Chris’ hums and claps when he eats good food, and he picks up on how your nose scrunches when you laugh at his stupid jokes. The more time passed the more you realized how your heart would ache at the thought of having to leave breakfast, leave him, for work. How you were drawn to want to hug him before you left. You had done it once just to see what he’d do, and with no hesitation he accepted it. You’ve hugged him every time either of you leave now. The need to always be near him almost annoyed you, but how could that feeling last long when he would turn and smile that bright dimpled smile at you. With you following him around in his free time, Chris noticed that despite having weekends off you never seemed to go out. He asked one day, and you had told him that in your move to the big city you hadn’t made many friends. Chris was determined then to make you meet his rather large ‘group of rowdy kids’, as he called them. 

You’d grown into a different relationship with each of them. Most of your chats about music and art landed with Hyunjin, Han, and Chris. Silly niche social media jokes that were heavily repeated went with Felix, and Jeongin. Playful arguments went with Changbin, Minho and Seungmin. Though, they all would drag you and Chris out of the apartment for some late night food on the weekends, regardless of if you actually wanted to go or not. Changbin once actually pulled you by the arm, still in a big tee, pajama pants, and some humongous teddy bear slippers, to get you to go eat some three am convenience store food with him. It took Chris tossing you over his shoulder and locking the apartment door for you to go. Minho still picks on you for giving in so easy for Chris to this day.

In fact, it was Minho who first sniffed out your crush on your aussie roommate. The night of a regular group movie night, this time at Felix and Seungmin’s place, he had met you in the kitchen as you were refilling your glass with water. Trapping you between him and the counter, you had stared up at him in feigned annoyance. 

“What is it now, Minho?” “You are so obvious.” He stares blankly, a small smirk twitching the edge of his lips. “I’m sorry?” You questioned with knitted eyebrows, setting your glass on the counter. 

“You’re in love with Chris.” 

You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. The design on your shirt creases from the movement. “I am not.” 

“So if I told him, and it really is just a rumor, then you have nothing to lose right?” Minho tilted his head as he spoke, studying you as he waited for a response. Knowing he was getting to you by the way your brows twitched. You could only assume it was Han that spirited these thoughts into Minho’s head when you noticed him staring at the two of you talking from the corner of your eye. 

Sure, you’d grown close to Chris over the last few months. Sure, you’d wondered what it would be like if you simply walked across the hall and slid into his bed…would it be warmer? Would he pull you in, just like he had when you hugged him? Would it feel as safe as you had imagined it to? The ache in your gut from just the idea of Minho telling Chris before you could was confirmation enough…you were falling for Chris. And falling hard. 

“Tell him soon. There’s no sense in just waiting around. Worst case is rejection.” “You say that like getting rejected is easy.” 

“You’ll live.” Minho mumbles before turning back around to sit back with everyone else, once sat he gives you one last look to encourage you to spill your feelings. 

That night you tried. Many times. But you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it in fear of ruining the mood, the holidays were just around the corner and if you had to spend the Christmas season alone in the apartment you’d go crazy. So you gave yourself the task for another day. 

But then November passed, and Christmas was just a few weeks away. And still you have yet to tell Chris. It wasn’t like he had a girlfriend or anything, Han was quick to correct that to Chris’s embarrassment during a drinking game a month prior, but you just couldn’t pull yourself to do it. What if you were simply mistaking his kindness and care for romance? You’d seen how well he took care of his friends, how similar it was to how he treated you. Aside from a few instances of hand holding and a lingering hug or two…nothing seemed different from his otherwise normal behavior. And it was driving you insane trying to piece together every little thing he did. 

So when Felix had joked one night about the only way he’d meet someone would be a speed dating event, due to his own busy schedule with modeling, you had an idea. Doing your research online to find the closest event that wouldn’t be too far of a walk, maybe you would even have someone to bring to the Christmas party Hyunjin was hosting at his place. Of course, Chris had thought it odd when you blew off the group with some awful excuse and in the most gorgeous dress he’d ever seen. Your hair and makeup had made you look like you walked right out of a movie. The jealousy that tore into his stomach had sat with him all night, and no amount of food or alcohol could make it go away. 

On the other side of town, you were also struggling. Guys who were either trying too hard, being a bit creepy, or simply not your type were all that seemed to fly by your table. Truthfully, there were only so many more times you could state your name and MBTI before it started to not even sound like real words. It wasn’t until your last date of the night slid into his seat that it felt like things were really looking up. A twinge of guilt hit you when his cologne hit your nose, so similar in musk to the one you were used to from Chris. But surprisingly this new guy, who eventually introduced himself as Joon, was so genuine compared to anyone you had talked to that night. Not to mention, he wasn’t awful looking. With tousled black hair, a bright smile, a beauty mark just above the right side of his smile, big brown doe eyes and just enough muscle to notice in the outlines of his clothes.

Suddenly, the solution of distracting yourself from your feelings for your roommate seemed like an incredible idea. 

In the following weeks you went on at least two dates a week, Joon was patient enough to understand you were a busy woman with a tight schedule and a want to not rush into anything too serious before the holidays. But of course, the distraction from your work life and unrequited feelings was more than enough for you. Joon was a gentleman after all. Greeting you at the door with flowers, opening doors for you, fixing the buckle on your heels when it unclasped on one of your night walks. You’d even begun to skip your late night dinners with Chris for movies and takeout with Joon, and headed out even earlier for work just to meet the same man for coffee the next day. His own early riser schedule lining up perfectly with yours. 

Come to find out, Joon is the son of a large conglomerate family that takes care of most of the commercial real estate throughout Seoul. Set to inherit the company even. Chris had found out when Jeongin had decided to look Joon up on the web, spewing facts about his rich, perfect family and shiny appearance. Felix had caught on, that night, to the way Chris tore at the edges of his shirt until it ripped a bit along the folded seams and more to how the eldest of the group retired early that night. 

It was driving Chris crazy. How did everything change so fast? He had been so cautious with his heart since you moved in, what with how nasty his breakup was a year or so ago. He would never feel that kind of heartache again. But you just…snuck up on him. With your shiny eyes that always looked at him as if he could do no wrong, your soft hand that fit so perfectly inside his own, your bright smile that was a thank you for the breakfast  he’d make you. A breakfast you haven’t eaten in two weeks. He wondered if his cooking skills declined somehow, no that couldn’t be it. Changbin had just praised the meal he had cooked for everyone a few days ago, and said it reminded him of his own mother’s cooking. 

Was it him? Did you not find him attractive? Should he have put even more effort into how he looked every day? Pajamas are such a lazy thing to wear, why did he have to wear them so often around you. Maybe if he’d gone shirtless more like you asked, to be “more comfortable” in his own home…he wouldn’t be in this predicament. It had to be him. Chris found he had a hard time looking himself in the mirror most days, maybe you had started to feel the same way. All these thoughts swam around in his mind and built pressure around his heart, his already horrid sleep schedule ruined further by the anxious thoughts that plagued him when left alone in the night. 

Until we reach the present. A Saturday night, he took the day off in hopes of stealing you for himself once you got home, when his ears were met with the squealing giggles of you behind the front door. Joon’s own deeper voice was heard not too far behind yours, a rumbling chuckle just echoing your own. Chris shouldn’t have, but he paused the movie he was watching and straightened his back to listen intently to what conversation would have you laughing as hard as you were. He couldn’t make out anything worthwhile besides a thank you and what seemed to be a goodnight. The jingle of your keys against the door as you turned the lock brought him back to reality. 

‘This is crazy. You’re crazy.’ He thought to himself, the heels of his hands rubbing at his eyes as if to wipe the thoughts away. The jealousy just seemed to squeeze on his heart more and more when you walked in and closed the door. Your sweet perfume swirling around him, and God, how much he realizes he missed you today. The scent of you, the warmth of your presence, the song of your voice. But it all seemed to rot in real time when he could hear you sigh against the door. “What did I do in my past life to deserve my current life playing out like a movie?” You mumbled to yourself with a smile as you leaned in to smell the flowers Joon had once again given you. This time they were lilies. The nice dress and shawl, both gifted by Joon, wrapped around you as if their whole purpose and creation was to hug your body. “Dunno.” Chris spits out shortly, turning off the television in front of him and grabbing the dishes he’d eaten out of from the top of the coffee table. His heavy steps the only indication of his irritation. 

You pause, setting your shoes down by the door and hanging up your shawl. Silky, soft and flowing, it swishes as you turn around to face him in the kitchen. “What’s up with you?” 

The dishes hit the sink bottom with a rough clinking sound, you’re surprised they weren’t broken as you stepped closer. His hands tightly grip the counters as he stares up at you through his brows. Not only were ears a dark red, but his cheeks and shoulders as well. Easily seen in the black tank top he was wearing, along with the basketball shorts in the same color. 

“What’s up with me? What’s up with you?” He states, straightening his posture to fold his arms across his chest. His jaw tensing before he continues to speak, “You miss a few group hangouts, fine. But bailing on our routine, our meals together? Y/N, I didn't peg you as someone to leave everyone behind just because you got a…boy toy.” 

“Leave everyone behind?” You start, slamming the flowers in your hand down onto the sofa before stepping closer to the island with curled fists, “Is it so wild for me to have something of my own to enjoy, Christopher?” 

“It’s not-” A huff finishes his sentence as a hand comes up to wipe down his eyes, “You had everything you needed! Here!” As his voice raises, your own anger bubbles up to his level. A defensive spark in you to protect what you’ve built for yourself, to protect your heart…from him, of all people. 

“What are you even talking about, Chris? This unspoken, oddly close friendship we have? Because if so, I got tired of chasing after you like some abandoned puppy. I wanted to have something of my own, that I helped foster and create. I love the guys, trust me, but is it so awful of me to want something that isn’t yours?” 

His hands pull through his hair as he makes his way around the island, they settle at his sides, “Why are you making this out to be my fault? How was I supposed to know how you felt when you never even spoke to me about it? Huh?” 

Chris steps closer to you, a few steps away now, with a rasp in his voice and darkened eyes, “I kept myself from moving further with you because I thought you wanted nothing like that from me, and now you’re gonna make me the bad guy for not reading your mind? While I was finally starting to really open up to you and let my guard down, and then you bailed for some speed dating dinner?”  

His hand juts out to the flowers that now lay on the sofa, “And now this?” The silence following ripped all the air from your lungs, the sharp look in his eyes seemed to judge every part of you. As if he was disappointed more than upset, that you’d let yourself be wooed by this stranger and not accept the possibility that all of the love you wanted was right in front of you. 

“Now I have to watch you almost every night and every morning, leave me for him. To watch you smile because of him. To watch you laugh because of him. To hear you go on and on about him. When all this time all you had to do…was ask. It took one conversation.” He continues with gritted teeth before sighing and rubbing his hands down his face once more. “Chris-” “Save it. I’ve said all I needed to say, and I’ve heard everything I need from you. Enjoy the rest of your night.” As he spoke, he walks around you to gather his things. Slipping on a few rings, grabbing his apartment keys, pulling on a jacket hung by the door and some sneakers. “Where are you going?” You ask, though it was quiet enough that it had come out closer to a sigh. Arms wrapped around yourself as your legs screamed to move toward him, to hug him, to confess, to apologize, to go back in time even. 

“Somewhere that isn’t here.” He states shortly, his hand on the door handle. Even in his crazed mind, he knew that if he stayed the resentment and pain would just fester. And that would hurt worse than the heartbreak that he’ll go through when he walks out that door. 

“When will you be back?” “Don’t wait up.” 

And with that the door creaks open and slams shut behind him. Leaving you to wonder when he’ll be back…and what life will be like now. It’ll never simply be the gentle mornings, and rushed evenings. And that felt all too real. 

“I love you….” You whisper to no one and nothing, the act of immersing yourself in Joon’s treasures and kindness had fallen and now you were left alone and cold. Wishing that Chris would turn back and walk through the door to hold you and tell you it was all just a nightmare. All that showed in response was the suffocating silence of the apartment, and the smell of cologne, cinnamon, and rain. 

taglist: @torialefay @moon-jellies915 (lemme know if you'd like to be added to my general taglist or the taglist for this specific series!!)

[nitadllyss]

Just Like It All Began

Bangchan Idol x Female Reader

Genre: Romantic, Angst, Slow burn romance, Fluff, Smut, Basically a bit of everything.

Warnings: NSFW, angst, heartbreak, alcohol use, mature themes, fluff, emotional distress.

Blurb: Chan and you are in love, in a relationship full of passion, but when problems arise, everything starts to unravel. Distance and stress take over, while nostalgia and memories resurface, bringing a spark of hope.

---------------------------------------

There you were, kissing the man you promised to forget. But somehow, each kiss made you feel like the spark might never have left…

---

You were getting ready for a dinner invited by a friend, Felix. You knew there would be more people, specifically members of his group. You were nervous and excited to have a fun night and meet new people. You only knew them by sight, that’s all.

The dinner had already started. Everyone was enjoying themselves, chatting with one another. It was interesting to see how the atmosphere developed: everyone was so warm and kind. While talking about wanting to plan a vacation, you heard a member you hadn’t interacted much with.

“I definitely recommend Australia,” he said, smiling, very excited about his recommendation as he looked at you. “It’s really beautiful, and I’m planning to visit my family there, I could give you a tour.”

You felt your body heat up and your heart beat a little faster. Was he that... cute? You didn’t know how to express it. His smile made you feel happy, and those dimples that accompanied it made everything seem more harmonious: that prominent and straight nose that made him look strong, those small eyes that smiled along with his dimples. Damn, you had fallen.

“Really? Well, if you say so, I’ll have to consider it. I’ve heard a lot about how beautiful it is there thanks to Lix,” you returned the smile, trying to hide your state.

The others were talking amongst themselves, not noticing the interaction that wasn’t as casual as it seemed.

“Are you Y/N, right? Sorry, I’m a little shy, and I didn’t have the courage to talk before,” he said, a bit flushed. His voice tone showed his shyness.

“That’s right,” you smiled at him, trying to make him feel comfortable. “You’re Bangchan, right?” You looked at him closely, hoping you weren’t mistaken.

“Yes, but call me Chris.”

The rest of the dinner was amazing. Sometimes your heel would accidentally hit his shoe, making you both blush. When your laughs mixed, you both felt butterflies in your stomach.

---

You started seeing each other for a while, of course, with the other members, whom you also got close to easily.

Group hangouts were comfortable and fun. You really had a bond with everyone.

But with him, it was different. When his hand brushed against yours, he would play it off with a “Oops,” and smile while winking at you, probably aware of your warm cheeks and your shaky responses.

He brought your favorite snacks, suggested your favorite movies and outings. God, this man was going to kill you with his love.

“Did you remember?” you said, happy and excited to see that he brought your favorite chips and put on your favorite Disney movie.

“I just want you to feel comfortable,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. When the others teased him about his obvious flirtatious attitude, he would just say:

“I MEAN, I want all of us to feel comfortable!” This made you laugh.

Things escalated a step further when he offered to help you with the shopping. You were alone, and somehow it ended in a sweet kiss.

---

After that, coffee dates, dinners, movies, walks, and other activities became very frequent.

Being alone with him made you nervous, and your cheeks ached from smiling so much while with him. When you got home, you’d only think about how cute he looked that day and how much you couldn’t wait to see him again.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chat with “Chris💕”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Chris: Are you busy next Saturday?😊

I was thinking of having a sleepover…😉🫣

We could order pizza and watch a drama.

Y/N: Sure!🙂‍↕️

It’s on my schedule, Mr. Bang.📝💗

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

After several sleepovers, came the first time you slept together.

“Y/N...” he said, a bit uncomfortable because of his stiff posture in bed, afraid to touch you too much and make you feel uncomfortable. “Do you mind if... I hug you?” His ears were bright red, and his hands started to sweat.

“It’s okay, feel comfortable, Chris,” you said, a little surprised by his proposal but happy it was him who said it.

That night, you slept comfortably with each other’s warmth. After that, he needed your head on his chest to sleep in peace, and you couldn’t rest without his caresses on your back. You both slept soundly, accompanied by the melody of each other’s heartbeat.

---

The room was a mess of moans and gasps. Some growls escaped his mouth, blending with the sound of the moisture of your skin touching.

“You feel so good,” he said, lost in how your walls squeezed around him. He couldn’t help but hold your hands above your head, applying pressure to push himself deeper.

You only responded with babbling and broken sighs, trying to form sentences like:

“It feels so big… You’re opening me up so well…”

“Come on, baby… Fuck,” he said, setting a harder and deeper pace. “Cum for me.” He kissed your neck, biting and licking it in the process.

Your body couldn’t resist anymore, and your screams of pleasure grew louder. When he whispered, “Beg for it. If you really want it, beg for it.”

“Please,” you begged with a trembling voice. “Please, Chris... Let me cum.”

His smile became evident, and after a while, you both reached your climax, sharing the pleasure and love in an orgasm.

They both felt an overwhelming desire for each other. The love between them grew stronger, and the need to be physically united pushed them to act irrationally, losing themselves in the heat of the moment.

---

You missed him so much. The comeback season was horrible for you. You missed his scent in bed, his good morning and good night kisses. You felt cold sleeping there alone, and don’t even get started on how much it broke your heart to eat alone at that table. Your days felt endless.

He regretted not being able to spend more time with you, to the point where he didn’t hear your voice for weeks. It was slowly killing him, but he knew his job had its place.

When you did see each other, you tried to make up for it by loving each other intensely during the days and weeks you couldn’t be together. Everything changed when he had his first tour.

“I miss you so much, baby,” Chris said, nostalgic, during a video call.

“I can’t wait to kiss you and hold you,” you said, also nostalgic.

But over time, even the video calls became less frequent. He was exhausted, and his schedules didn’t always match yours.

One day, you simply couldn’t bear it anymore. When you finally had a video call after two months, you saw him turn on the camera, and when he saw you in tears, Chris knew exactly what was about to happen.

“You know I love you, and that will never change,” you said, barely able to articulate each word between sobs. “But I need some time… You don’t know how much it hurts not having you here with me.”

He accepted, broken inside, but understanding it wasn’t fair to either of you. It hurt that he didn’t fight for you both.

---

When Chris returned, you saw each other and tried to fix things. For a while, it worked. But then, he came back late again, disappearing for weeks. You understood that you couldn’t take the place his career had in his life, and that was okay with you. You loved him too much to pressure him.

The definitive breakup was inevitable.

“I love you,” Chris said, tears streaming down his face as he hugged you tightly.

“I love you so much, Chris. Thank you for everything,” you said, looking at him with all the love you felt for him, knowing this would be your last goodbye.

You shared one last kiss, full of love and pain. Then, you each took a different path, without looking back.

---

Almost a year later, at another group meeting organized by Felix, you saw him again.

You both tried to keep your distance, but your eyes met several times during the night. You didn’t talk deeply, but you both knew you understood each other. There was something in the air, a calm despite the distance that now existed between you.

You were happy to see he was doing well. He, for his part, felt relief knowing you were okay, eating well, and getting enough sleep. You both were happy for each other’s happiness, whether together or not.

---

Now, you were at the bar you used to visit with him, spending what would have been your anniversary. Looking at your phone, the photo album reminded you of a picture of both of you smiling and hugging. The nostalgia hit you like a cold bucket of water.

You didn’t know why, but the drinks started to feel like water, and with each sip, you remembered something more: the way he laughed, his face when he woke up, his kisses before bed, and his warm voice when he sang.

“Y/N...” you felt your blood pressure drop as you heard that voice, still stirring the deepest feelings in you.

You turned quickly and saw him. He, probably slightly tipsy, was looking at you with a light smile on his face.

“Chris?” You looked at him, and it felt like time hadn’t passed.

You caught up on your lives. You were both still single. When you heard this, you felt an unexpected relief, and it gave him a bit of hope. You touched on the topic of your relationship, and at that moment, your heel brushed his shoe, causing a shared laugh over the memories of the past.

Now, you were there, face to face, kissing. Each kiss, every heartbeat shared, and the laughter that arose between your caresses made you feel that the spark was still there, waiting to not give up.

The spark might never have left…

---------------------------------------

I don’t know, but I loved this, to be honest 🤭

Christopher Bang 😩😩😩

I hope you all liked this piece!

English isn't my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know. 💕

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: The company found out about Chan dating you and in order to save his idol life, he is forced to break up with you. The both of you saw this coming but the heartbreak is unbearable…

Warnings: BREAK UP ONE SHOT. Smut🔞, unprotected sex, Oral (f. receiving), pet names, heartbreak, angst, tears.

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: This isn't a loving one shot but a heartbreaking one, just a practice because I wanna explore writing angsty scenes. It's VERY different from my usual work, so I really hope you'll enjoy this...

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

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

Word count: 3.9k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The sound of the clock ticking in the once warm apartment felt like stabbing a nail through your head.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Time doesn't stop flying. And God you'd do anything to stop it or go back to relive certain moments which are now memories. Time slips through our fingers like sand, no matter how tightly we try to hold it.

The air was suffocating, thick with tension, unspoken words that refused to come out. Your eyes never left the floor and you could feel his eyes looking at you, his heart torn between regret and determination.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this—you had promised each other that. But some things were beyond promises, beyond dreams, beyond even love.

“You knew this could happen, right?” Chan’s voice was a soft whisper, as if saying it out loud would make it real.

Your throat tightened, your eyes blurring with tears that you tried so hard to hold back. Of course it had come to an end. The universe was cruel, pulling two souls together only to tear them apart.

You nodded, feeling the weight of every unsaid word pressing on your chest. "I knew," you murmured, the words barely finding their way out.

A flicker of pain crossed Chan’s face, and he took a deep breath. “If there was any other way… you know I’d choose you. Every time. But I can’t... I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for. It’s not just about me—it’s the group, the fans...”

You bit your lip, desperately wanting to say something, anything to make him stay. But deep down, you understood. You always had.

The two of you risked it and spent the night together at a hotel, when a company staff spotted Chan with a mysterious woman. The following morning Chan was called into the headquarters where he was met with cold stares and harsher words.

The company laid out the stakes in brutal clarity; his career, his group, everything he’d worked his whole life for, would crumble if he continued this relationship. There was no room for compromise, no softening of the blow. Chan had been forced to choose.

He was lucky that this remained in the walls of the company, but that luck came with a price. They had made it clear that they’d bury the scandal, keep it from reaching the public as if this had never happened, but only if Chan ended things immediately and distanced himself from you completely. They were giving him a way out, but it was one he’d have to take alone.

And now, in the echoing silence of the apartment, with everything unravelling around you both, the gravity of that choice felt like an anchor around your heart.

Chan’s eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders heavy with the weight of guilt. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he said, his voice breaking. “But if I don’t… if we don’t…” His words trailed off, as though even he couldn’t bear to say them.

A bitter laugh escaped you, though you hadn’t meant for it to. “So, what? We just pretend none of this ever happened? That all of this was nothing?”

He flinched, and you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. “No… no, it wasn’t nothing. You know it wasn’t.”

You shook your head, the tears you’d fought so hard to hold back finally spilling over. “Then why does it feel like it is? Why does it feel like I’m just… another sacrifice?” You couldn’t look at him. If you did, you felt like you’d lose your mind and crush your already broken heart.

Chan closed the distance between you, his hands resting on your arms as he pulled you close, his forehead touching yours. “You’re not a sacrifice,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything to me. That’s why this hurts so damn much.”

Your eyes remained closed, cheeks red and warm, breaths shallow and broken, as if anything you both could come up with would ever be a solution for what was about to happen. Chan held you against his chest, letting your aching tears soak his hoodie. He was holding back, he had to stay strong for the both of you.

You clung to him, fingers fisting in his hoodie, as if holding on tightly enough could somehow prevent the inevitable.

He stroked your hair gently, whispering soft words of comfort, though he knew, just as you did, that no words could fix this. Each breath he took was slow and measured, as though he were struggling to keep his composure, but you could feel the tremble in his chest, betraying the pain he was trying so hard to hide.

After what seemed like eternity, you pulled away from him and finally looked into his eyes through your blurry vision. Chan’s eyes locked with yours, encouraging you to say what you want to say at this moment.

“Chan,” His hand cupped your face. “Kiss me.” You said softly.

And so he did. Without a word escaping, his mouth crashed with yours, hungrily, desperately, as though he could pour every ounce of his love, everything left unspoken.

His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the pounding of your hearts. The kiss was fierce, filled with a longing so deep it felt like drowning.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, taking in his taste, his scent, allowing yourself to memorise every part of him till you were nothing but lost in the feel of him and everything outside ceased to exist.

Fierceness turned into anger as you both stumbled towards the bedroom, tearing your clothes off. His hoodie, your shirt, his shoes, your pants, until you both remained in nothing but your underwear.

Chan broke apart but came back with a roughness that sent a thrill through your body as he pushed you onto the bed and towered over you, sliding off your panties and unclasping your bra. Every inch of you was on liquid fire as Chan discarded his boxers, putting your legs up his shoulders as he buried his face in your wet heat.

A loud moan escaped your lips as his tongue feasted on your soaking cunt, lapping away your sweetness and getting drunk at the way you taste.

Your hands fisted his hair as you grind your needy pussy up his face, Chan groaned sucking on your clit like a man starved.

“Fuck baby,” His fingers gripped your soft thighs continuing his merciless assault on your throbbing nub. “Can never get enough of you.”

All you could do is moan at the way he worshipped you with his mouth and the low, husky sound of his beautiful voice.

He came upwards, kissing a hot trail over your pubic bone, your stomach, giving so much attention to your sweet nipples and crashed his mouth on yours as he sank into you in a slow, deliberate thrust.

Your body arched as you drank every drop of him, welcoming his huge length, letting him stretch you and fill you up completely. Your heart ached but your body responded to him the way it always did.

Eager and desperate.

Chan palmed your breast, swiping his thumb over the hard, sensitive nub slick with his saliva as he pounded into you in an agonising yet sweet pace, hitting spots that made you see stars over and over again.

“Chan…Chan please,”

Pleasure consumed you both whole, a hiss escaped his lips when he heard you moan, a sound that drove him insane, a sound he could listen for the rest of his life.

“Hmm, what do you want darling?” He pinched your nipple just as he slammed into you that tore a sharp cry from your throat.

I want you. With me forever

But those words couldn’t come out of your mouth. So all you could do was moan for him to go faster and harder. His fingers stroked your clit with the perfect pressure, you wanted him to keep pushing you further and further.

Nails dug into his back as he gave you what you asked for, the dimly lit room filled with moans and whimpers and skin slapping against skin. Chan’s mouth never left yours as he thrusted into you in force that felt like ecstasy, your orgasm tore through you as you came all over his cock.

He followed you soon after, a hot load of his cum gathering inside you, groaning into your neck, his huge body over you.

Sweat misted your skin, neck and chest covered in a trail of hickeys, the two of you kept climbing and crashing together for the next hour.

Every moment was perfect, like whatever that was happening before was just a bad dream and nothing was going wrong in the world. Chan wanted this to be the only thing to last a lifetime, you pressed against him, to wake up to your good morning texts, to sneak out with you in secret, to stretch this moment for however long he could take.

From sweet love making to hard fucking that left marks on your skin, you both pretended that this was the perfect life as if nothing is about to shatter you apart forever, reached till you passed out breathless on the bed.

Chan held you in his arms, a tension beginning to rebuild when the quiet room began to fill with the soft; Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You stirred in his arms, and Chan’s grip instinctively tightened around you, his warmth seeping into your skin as if he could brand this moment into memory. He wanted to say something, anything, to tell you how much you meant to him, how deeply he wished this night could be endless.

“Bang Chan,” an icy voice cut through the tense conference room, the PR’s voice cutting through the silence, “you know why we’re here.”

Chan’s jaw tightened, his heart already beating hard in his chest. He nodded, though his mind clung desperately to the hope that this conversation would turn out differently than he feared.

“It’s come to our attention that you’ve been seen with…” The executive hesitated, the distaste in his tone achingly clear. “A certain individual. You know the implications this has, not only for you but for the group as a whole.”

Chan’s fists clenched under the table. "I know," he admitted, voice low but steady. "But she’s not just anyone. She’s—”

"She’s a liability," another manager cut in, eyes hard as steel. "You’ve worked years for this career, Chan. Years. We’ve all sacrificed too much for it to be jeopardized by… personal entanglements.”

“She’s not a liability,” Chan said, fighting to keep the anger from his voice. “She’s important to me, and I’ve been careful—"

“Careful?” The PR head shook his head. “If you’d been careful, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You were lucky it was Miss Jia who spotted you. Can you imagine the disaster that would have come if it was a fan or paparazzi?”

Chan’s face paled as the PR head's words hit him with the weight of harsh reality. He’d been cautious, always looking over his shoulder, timing each meeting down to the minute. But deep down, he knew they were right. No amount of care could guarantee safety from prying eyes forever.

"We’ve considered all the options, and there is no room for compromise on this. The only way to protect your career is to end this relationship, quietly and immediately.”

A wave of dread settled over him, pressing down like a weight he couldn’t shake off. He swallowed, his throat tight. "So you’re asking me to choose… between her and everything I’ve worked for?"

"No," the executive corrected him coldly. "We’re telling you to choose your career.”

The ultimatum struck like a wrecking ball, leaving him feeling hollow and defeated. He glanced down at the table, the polished surface reflecting back his own tortured expression.

He’d known there was a risk—had tried to prepare himself for something like this. But hearing the words was like a knife twisting in his chest.

“I… I need time to think,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice, rough with emotion.

“There’s no time, Chan,” his manager replied softly, though the finality in his voice was unmistakable. “If you care about her, if you truly want what’s best for her… you’ll understand that this is the only choice.”

A painful clarity began to settle in as he saw the faces around him—faces he had trusted, faces he had worked with for years. And there, hidden behind their demands and their concern for the group, was an unforgiving reality.

Slowly, he nodded, his face etched with an unimaginable kind of pain.

“Fine. I’ll… I’ll end it.”

But his voice caught in his throat, the weight of goodbye pressing down on him like an anchor.

You sensed his struggle, you lifted your head to look at him. In the dim light, you could see the tears glistening in his eyes, barely held back. Your heart clenched, a sharp pang of pain blooming inside your chest as you realized the inevitable was catching up to you both.

"Don't look at me like that," you whispered, your voice trembling, but you managed a sad, fragile smile. "It’s going to make it harder.”

Chan let out a shaky breath, his fingers reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “I don’t want to make it harder,” he replied softly. “But I… I don’t know how to let you go. I can't let you go.”

“Then don’t,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Just...” You sighed heavily.

You took his hand, holding it against your cheek, feeling the warmth of his palm, the calluses that spoke of years of dedication, of sacrifice, qualities that had once made you admire him and had now become the reason he couldn’t stay.

The irony was cruel.

“You know it’s not that simple. If I could…” His voice broke, and he took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “If I could choose anyone, anything, I’d choose you, every time.”

“I know…” your voice trailed off. You smiled, your chin wobbling as you looked at him with those for one last moment. Time has come. You have to leave.

Regret and guilt splashed across Chan’s face as he realised your expression, you reluctantly pulled away from him and started changing into your clothes.

The warmth he’d given you faded instantly, replaced by the icy grip of reality that hung heavy between you. Each movement felt slow, as though you were wading through something thick and unyielding, like your body refused to obey the decision your heart could barely stand.

Chan watched you as you slipped into your clothes, he pushed the blanket over and changed into his shorts, and gripped your wrist as you both made it to the living room.

You turned quickly and looked at his grip then at him, his beautiful woody brown eyes refusing to let the tears fall but they rimmed red, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the love and pain.

“I’ll be okay,” you said, as much for yourself as for him, though your voice wavered. “Someday, I will be. And so will you.”

His eyes shut tightly, as if the words were a physical blow, and he nodded, though you could see the struggle etched into his features.

“Promise me,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Promise me you’ll be okay. Even if I’m not there.”

You swallowed back the sob that threatened to escape and nodded, squeezing his hand. “I promise.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then your lips, each one a goodbye of its own. You let him, savouring each moment, each touch, letting it wrap around you like armour, a last memory to keep close when everything else is gone.

“I'm sorry I broke your heart…”

You could have sworn that you heard a genuine crack in your chest the moment those words left his lips. Your hand slapped over your mouth to cover the shattering sob that threatened to consume you.

You looked up at Chan, tears running down your cheeks, smiling painfully, stroking his cheek.

“My heart is yours. Yours to love, yours to keep, yours to break.”

Chan pulled you hard into his embrace, finally letting his tears fall, your hands gripping his back, as you both cried your hearts out to each other one last time.

Snippets of your shared moments crowded your mind—all the cute dates, late night facetimes, sweetly secret gifts, Chan introducing you to his members—there was no room to breathe.

“I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…” That's all he could say. That's all he was allowed to say.

Your fingers brushed through his hair as you held him close, memorizing every detail, knowing this would be the last time. The warmth of his skin, the feel of his chest rising and falling against you, the scent that was uniquely his—it all wrapped around you, making it even harder to breathe, harder to let go.

“Chan…” you whispered, voice trembling. “Even if I walk away now, even if you have to let me go… I’ll still love you. I’ll always love you.”

“I’ll love you, too. No matter what.” His voice broke again, barely holding back another wave of grief. “In some other life… maybe we could’ve had forever.”

There was a universe somewhere, you believed, where you and Chan got to share all the dreams you whispered to each other late at night, where you didn’t have to be a secret, where his love didn’t have to be a risk.

But not here. Not now.

You softly pulled him and leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling the final feel of his skin against your lips. “Goodbye, Chan...” you whispered, the words catching in your throat.

He closed his eyes, as if it would help make it easier, but his hand lingered in yours a moment longer.

“Goodbye, my love…” he breathed, his voice no more than a broken whisper.

With every ounce of strength you had left, you let go, turning and walking out of the apartment. The sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoed like a death sentence, filling the silence with finality.

Each step you took away from him felt heavier, as though pieces of your heart were left scattered on the floor behind you. You tried your hardest not to look back, knowing that if you did, it would only pour salt to the already deep wound.

Inside, Chan impulsively grabbed the vase that was sitting on his coffee table throwing it at the wall, which shattered in a powerful crash that felt like a gunshot and collapsed back onto the couch, head falling between his hands as he let the grief he’d been holding back flood over him again.

The empty apartment was now as cold and hollow as he felt, each memory of you hanging in the air like ghosts he could never escape. And as he sat there, drowning in the silence, he could almost still feel the warmth of your embrace, the lingering traces of your touch that would fade too soon.

All that remained now were echoes—the echo of your voice, your laughter, all slipping through his fingers like sand.

And he knew, no matter what, he’d always carry this ache with him, a part of his heart forever held by someone he was never meant to keep.

Some goodbyes leave scars, not because love wasn't enough, but because it was everything.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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

Wanna heal your 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 heart? Read part two: 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

[milkteabinniechan]

♡when the party's over - chan

(this is a membership exclusive + a preview 👀 you can read the whole possessive story here)

pairing: toxic ex! Chan x f! reader

summary: Your ex is going to be at this party. But so what? You look hot and you just want to have fun. But when you need rescuing, Chan is there without question.

warnings: alcohol, toxic relationship, angst, possessive boyfriend Chan, rough sex, pet names, Dom/Sub dynamic, oral(f. receiving), rough fingering, f! orgasm, m! orgasm, unprotected sex, choking, intense clit stimulation

You know when you fall in love and the universe seems to all fall into place? You had felt that only once. With Chan. But the extreme highs gave way to extreme lows and the two of you had stepped onto a toxic merry-go-round that neither of you remember buying a ticket for.

“You're going to the party, right? Even though Chan will be there?”

One of the many texts you had received from your friend group. Of course you were going. He wasn't going to dictate when or where you had fun. But you also didn't trust yourself to behave if you saw him there and he looked gorgeous.

One of your friends gave you a ride and the two of you walked in looking fucking HOT. And the toxic part of you wanted Chan to see that. To see that you are someone to hold onto. The party was crowded and the A/C was definitely broken. Everyone was sweating and complaining, while you had never been so thankful to be showing so much skin. At least you might be able to keep cooler than everyone else.

Across the room, Chan can see how nervous you're getting, realizing the attention you're drawing. He knows the subtlety of your body movements. When others may look past it, he was always aware of you. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching from a distance through his friends at the party. His jaw clenched as he notices guys checking you out. Just knowing that some idiot is going to try something tonight.

You make your way to the kitchen. A few guys stand around a keg and pump their plastic cups full of watered down beer. You try to slip on unnoticed but you catch the eye of one of them.

"Damn, you're hot." The guy says, blocking your way to the drinks. He's slightly buzzed, his eyes already undressing you. He sees your short skirt and bare shoulders, misinterpreting your innocent look. "You wanna make out?" He grins filthily.

As you squirm to escape the guy's advances, Chan pushes off the wall, weaving through the crowded party with purpose. His gaze never leaves your body. His eyes are locked on the scene unfolding in the kitchen. Reaching you, he slides an arm around your waist possessively, pulling you against his side. "Step off, idiot.”

The guy stumbled back and focused on Chan’s blazing expression. There was a moment of silence. Two lions stalking each other in a confined space. But Chan held his ground and gave your waist a little squeeze. The guy lets out a defeated huff and rolls his eyes, brushing the two of you off with a wave of his hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” you snap at Chan, your face a mix of confusion and anger. He looks down at you, his expression stern but protective. His arm remains firmly around your waist, keeping you close. "Saving your pretty little ass from this creep.”

[torialefay]

Take It Like A Real Man

sub!chan x dom!afab!reader 🔞

✨ synopsis: Chris has been a consistent dom throughout your entire relationship, which is why you are very surprised when he asks for one of your biggest sexual fantasies to come true.

✨ request from: @chrizzztopherbang

✨ warnings: degradation, offensive language, anal play, pegging, probably some more?

You’d been toying with Chan for the past several weeks. With the way that he made you feel, how could you not?

You loved your boyfriend, don’t get me wrong. And sex with him was amazing every time. But maybe you just wanted to… spice things up a bit?

Chan was the most dominant guy you’d ever been with in the bedroom. Choking you, spanking you, and pounding the absolute shit out of you almost every day. You felt so small underneath him. Like a toy to him. But lately… you thought about what it would be like for him to be a toy for you.

He’d been looking too good recently. Walking around in his slutty little tank tops and his sweatpants. His jaw was looking sharper than usual and you could tell his biceps were getting bigger day by day. You’d almost shudder from excitement every time he came up to hug you from behind, feeling the outline of his bulge graze you ever so slightly, though you knew that wasn’t his intention. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly one thing, but there was something (everything) about him that was driving you insane.

So you decided to… test the waters. You began to initiate the make-outs more. You decided you’d be the one to climb on top of him more. The first to grind into him and take charge. To push him down and hold him there while you rode him on top. And the more you got comfortable, you felt like you could be rougher too, lightly choking him and whispering dirty things to him.

And by his reaction, you could tell that he fucking loved it. However, by the end of the night, he always ended up taking over. He’d still fuck you into oblivion with your face in the pillow until you couldn’t breathe. No matter what you did to him, he was a dom after all.

One day after work, a bright sign caught your attention. You’d driven past it a million times without a second thought. But today, something about it felt different. The sign for a sex shop.

You figured it couldn’t hurt to go in and look around. Maybe buy a few things that looked fun. You strolled through each section, getting some essentials like lube and sex toy cleaner. But as you walked past, the bondage and sub sections caught your eye. One thing specifically. A strap on harness with a vibrator built in for your clit.

You couldn’t help but be curious. And let’s be real, Chan would never want that… Would he? He’d always ended up giving into his dom tendencies no matter how much you offered up.

‘It would be stupid to buy it,’ you said to yourself, pulling your arm back in. ‘Just a waste of money.’

After you’d stepped only a few feet away, you were already stopped by another product you’d only ever seen online. A cock ring.

You took the box into your hands, reading it over and flipping it around to get a good look. It didn’t look too intimidating. Nothing too scary.

‘Now this… maybe this I could work with,’ you grinned.

You balanced the box in your hands along with your other products. You turned on your heels to exit the section and head towards the register before you could be tempted by anything else that you saw. Everything that Chan wouldn’t want.

You walked only a few feet though before you stopped. Your mind couldn’t kick it out. The strap on. How hot Chan would look under you. If he was able to take it all and give in to you. How fucking beautiful he would look moaning for you and getting so overstimulated that he couldn’t stand it.

Fogging your head, you decided to just buy the damn thing. ‘So what if I lose some money?’ you thought. A girl can dream.

A few months had gone by with a pretty similar routine. You’d often take the lead at the beginning, and about halfway through, Chan would finish it off. That is, IF Chan didn’t initiate it first and set you up from the beginning.

But today felt a bit different.

Chris had just gotten home looking (surprise) fucking delicious. It had been a late night studio session, so you could see the tiredness in his eyes. Which is why you were startled when he seemed to actually be in a great mood.

“Hey baby!” he said, coming up to squeeze you in a hug on the couch and nuzzling his head against your cheek. So cute. So different from his tendencies in the bedroom.

“Well someone’s happy!” you giggled back. “Good day today?”

He looked at you with excited eyes. “We finally got done with a track we’d been stuck on for weeks. I think it turned out so good. This is really one of the best songs I think we’ve made,” he smiled.

You gave him a tight squeeze. “That’s great baby. I’m so proud of you.” You leaned in to place a soft peck to his nose.

He blushed a bit as he said thank you.

On instinct, you scooted yourself to the side of the couch a bit. “Wanna lay your head down?” you asked, patting your lap.

You knew this was Chan’s favorite. Laying his head on you and letting you brush your fingers through his curls, massaging his scalp as you went. It was the most amazing way for him to destress. But at this moment, when he got it and he wasn’t even stressed? Well that was an even higher rush for him.

He grinned ear to ear as he moved to lie on his back and place his head perfectly in the middle of your lap, giving you access to him right underneath you.

You continued to talk about both of your days. The best and the worst parts. Apparently the boys were annoying all day, so having the good session tonight was exactly what Chan needed. You talked to him about the song, with him teasing you and telling you he wasn’t gonna show you yet.

“You know that’s not fair!” you protested, trying to pout. “Come on pleaseeeee.”

“No, I’m not gonna show you,” he teased again, shaking his head cutely.

You began to run your hands more softly and slower through his hair, hoping it would coerce him a bit. Let him know that you would take your time with him.

“It’s okay,” you smirked. “You’re gonna give in anyways.” Did you sound like a know-it-all? Yes. But did you sound like a cute know-it-all? Also yes.

Chris smiled. “Not this time. I’m putting my foot down.” He innocently raised one leg on the couch just to push it down sharply as if he were fake stomping.

“Oh really?” you started, dragging your voice down. You began to slowly glide one hand from his head, down his neck, and then to comfortably rub across his pecs, massaging them at your own pace. “I’ll do anything,” you plead with big eyes, trying your best to seduce him into it.

Chan put a look on his face to act like he was puzzled. “Aaanything?”

“Say the word-“ you leaned down to press a short kiss to his mouth, “and it’s yours.”

You took this moment to rub down further, down his abs, tracing lines along the way, until you got just above his waistband. You teased around a bit, dragging your finger along as if contemplating what to do with it.

You waited patiently as Chan wiggled underneath you. Observing his reactions, you realized how blushed he was.

“Is this what you want?” you asked softly, moving a few fingers past the band of his boxers. You didn’t want to touch him- yet. Just wanted to watch him and see what he would do.

“Mhmm,” he huffed out, repositioning his head so that he could see better.

After massaging around him and around his thighs, you brought your hand up to your mouth. You spit in it as best you could before lowering it back to it’s original position.

This time, you snaked your hand straight down to where his dick was. Almost completely hard already without you having to touch it. You decided you’d be bold.

“Oh, is this what you like baby? You like this?” you smiled menacingly as you rubbed up and down, covering his cock with the saliva.

Chan was embarrassed. You could tell. Was it because he didn’t like it but didn’t have the heart to tell you? Or was it because he was enjoying this more than he thought he should… you being in charge of him. Talking to him like this.

From how hard his dick was underneath your hand, you were willing to bet it was the second one.

You let yourself stroke a little bit harder, making sure to swirl the tip of your thumb around his opening. He hissed slightly at the feeling.

“What is it baby? Feels too good? You can’t even talk to me?” You teased.

Chan just wiggled in response, bucking up into your hand for more contact.

You let him go on for a few seconds before abruptly pulling your hand away. Now was the time to try.

“If you don’t tell me what you want, I can’t give you anything baby,” you smiled, knowing how flustered he was.

Chan relaxed his head as he laid it back, closing his eyes and letting himself catch his breath. After a few deep breaths, he gave a hesitant sigh. You watched as he began to fidget with his fingers. Knobby and lacing around each other, they were almost shaking. He looked… mad?

With one final suck of air, he sat himself up. You didn’t quite know how to react.

“I’m sorry,” you said impulsively as he turned his body toward yours. You were a bit frantic trying to fix things. “I didn’t mean to push you into doing something you don’t like. I know you’d rather be in control, and I like that too. Let’s go back to that, okay?”

“No, it’s not-“ Chan cleared his throat. “It’s not that.” He cracked his knuckles while looking down. “I need to talk to you about something first… I’ve wanted to talk to you about it for a while, but I guess I’ve just been nervous about what you’ll say and how you’ll react and what you’ll think of me, and just, I don’t know. Maybe I’m making it a big deal for nothing. I just don’t want you to think differently of me if you’re not into it and maybe if it’s weird to you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pressured into anything. And I don’t want you to think it’s not enough for me if we don’t do it because I do love the way that we are now. Things have been so great and I don’t want any of this to mess us up-“

“Babe, you’re rambling,” you stared at him. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

He held his breath for a moment before continuing. “Promise you won’t judge?”

“I pinky promise.” You reached your hand to rest on top of his, intertwining your pinky finger underneath his own.

He let his pinky grip to it tightly. “Well ever since you’ve been getting, you know, more involved in starting things with me, I have really enjoyed it. But you know it’s kind of just instinct for me to take over. I can’t really help it, you know. Just when you look so good, it gets too hard for me to stop myself…” He waited for a moment before trying to start again. “But I’ve been seeing stuff… Like porn, I mean," he cleared his throat sheepishly. "And that combined with the way you’ve been acting lately, I think- I think I’d like to try something. But it’s kind of weird and nothing we’ve ever talked about, so you can absolutely say no. I mean, I may have even ended up hating it, so maybe it’s best we didn’t even have this conversation and we just forget about it so-“.

“Christopher! Please for the love of God just tell me. What do you want to try?” You’d spoken louder than you’d meant to.

Fidgeting with his hands again, he finally admitted it. “I want to let you be more dominant. And I want you to be in control the whole time.”

“That’s it? You’re embarrassed about that?” you almost cackled over how ridiculous it was for him to make such a big deal about that. It wasn’t like you weren’t slowly working your way there.

“Well, no. I also wanted to try… maybe, I don't know... pegging? Like if you were pegging me. If it’s weird, we don’t have to, but I’ve been th-“ he got cut off by the sound of you.

“Oh my gosh!!!” you sprung up from your seat and quickly made your way to the closet. There, at the back, you’d had your secret stash hidden away for months. You grabbed the bag filled with lube, the strap on, and the cock ring. You squealed as you ran back into the living room where your boyfriend was waiting with a confused face. He squinted his eyes at you, waiting for you to go on.

“Okay SO,” you started, voice full of pep, “a little while back, I was just shopping around and, well, I saw these and thought maybe one day, I’d be able to convince you to let us try.” You smiled as you pulled out both the strap on and the cock ring at the same time, letting the lube in the bag hit the ground.

Chris started laughing, not able to believe his eyes. “Hahaha, no wayyy,” he carried his raised voice.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” you teased, swaying your hips as you walked up closer to him. As you took a seat on the couch, you snaked your arms around his neck. You gave him a few quick pecks on his lips before smirking and running one hand down his torso as slowly as you could, letting him enjoy it. You leaned in beside his ear, letting hot breath hit it for a moment. “We need to move this to the bedroom. But you’re gonna be good and listen to me this time, okay?”

You felt Chan shiver and get shy all of a sudden. “Okay,” a tiny grin appeared as he crossed his hands in his lap.

You stood first, holding your hand out for him to grab onto. You quickly bent to retrieve your lube and new toys. You gently pulled Chan’s hand along to follow as you made your way to the bedroom. As you walked, you were silently thankful that you’d already taken everything out of the box to clean it.

You gingerly tossed everything onto the bed before turning to wrap your arms around Chan’s neck again. As you found his lips, you used your position as an advantage to pull his neck down and his face closer to yours.

Chan scared to put his hands on you, you pulled back, smiling, feeling like you’d won already. “You can touch me now, Channie.”

He blushed before resting his veiny hands on your waist. This time, you were sure you would attach your lips to his permanently. As you kissed, you bit and tugged and pulled as Chan gave into you. He let out little moans as you kept pulling him in closer, devouring every inch of his plump lips. You ravaged until you couldn’t stand it anymore.

With a dramatic gasp, rushing air into your tight lungs, you pulled back. You stared into his face. It was so nervous yet excited. It was the most endearing thing you’d ever seen. You smirked as you watched him groveling.

“Clothes off. Now.” you instructed.

You watched as Chan immediately was humbled. Without hesitation, he stripped himself of his top, revealing his rough abs, which he seemed to be shy about all of a sudden. He covered himself by crossing his arms slightly as he pulled his pants down and stepped out of them.

You stood, running your eyes up and down his exposed body, cocking one brow. You knew he felt so exposed like this.

“Underwear?” you ordered more than asked.

He looked so small as he hunched over to remove them, revealing his already semi-hard cock.

You smiled, obviously staring at his dick. “You’re that excited already?”

He gulped, not knowing what to say. Standing meekly, hoping you wouldn’t make him continue with words.

“It’s cute you’re this riled up for me baby,” you said, walking in closer and quickly grabbing his dick in your hands. You began to stroke it quickly, dry, with no warning.

He hissed in response, contorting his face.

“I think we could do better though, huh? Pull my clothes off of me,” you demanded.

He hurriedly reached to the hem of your shirt to pull it up and over your head. He hooked around for the bra straps next, running his arms around your back as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to disappoint you so soon.

You swatted at his arms. “Did I say you could see my tits? So fucking greedy… Take off my shirt and pants ONLY. I don’t want to have to say it again.”

If the instantaneous stiffening of Chan’s dick was any indication of how much he was enjoying this, then he must have been on goddamn cloud nine.

He whimpered slightly, moving his hands back slowly and down to the area just below your waist. He swiftly undid the buttons on your jeans and lowered himself to be able to remove them from you fully.

“Stay,” you instructed.

You couldn’t have loved this sight more. Your boyfriend bent for you, looking up with doe eyes. Right at the level of your pussy. What could be more perfect?

You placed a hand in his hair, harshly pushing his head forward until it was almost touching you.

“Lick. Now. Like you fucking mean it.” Your voice came out bitchier than you thought possible. But that was the point.

Chan hurriedly leaned in to run his tongue along the outside of your clothed pussy, starting from bottom to top. The slight sensation felt almost too good after all of the pent up tension you’d been feeling. You watched the way his tongue moved slowly, up and down. If he wasn’t in this position, you’d think he was teasing you. But with your hand resting on the back of his head, you knew you’d have full control. And he knew that too.

Chan moved his tongue suddenly, intently, to the side of your pussy, toying at the fabric of your underwear. It was like he was trying to move it out of the way with the force of his tongue only.

“Keep going,” you instructed, releasing a light moan. “Lick underneath them and keep your eyes up here.”

Chris was quick to follow your instructions, swiftly locking his eyes into yours. You smiled at him- encouragement that he was doing so well for you.

You shivered as he planted his cheek into the side of you pussy, letting his tongue run along underneath the material of the the underwear.

“Taste that baby. You’re gonna taste all of me. Take it in your mouth,” you directed.

You observed the look on his face as he bit the underwear up and into his mouth, inhaling deeply. His eyes shut for a moment, taking in the experience. It looked utterly blissful for him.

“Eyes! I’m not going to fucking tell you again!” you yelled, yanking his head back so that he’d look up at you.

Big, shiny eyes flashed onto yours. Apologetic, but loving. After all of this. He loved this. He relished in this. Nothing could beat this.

“Back to to my pussy. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” you ordered him, keeping one hand on his hair as the other reached down to move your underwear out of the way.

Chan did as instructed, which earned him a pleased smile and a ramming of his head into your pussy. You quickly guided his head up and down, soaking his nose and tongue in your juices. The combination hit just the right spot.

You froze as you felt the euphoric combination. His nose hitting you clit with his tongue poked perfectly into your entrance.

“Right there, holy shit,” you moaned, fucking his face in this position. You held his head steady as you bounced yourself up and down on him. The feeling was almost indescribable.

You felt him trying to pull back slightly, needing to search for air.

“You don’t breathe unless I tell you to fucking breathe!” you shouted, pushing his face in harder.

You watched him sink down slightly, his body creeping lower to the floor. You used this to your advanced, moving your hips with a quickening speed across his face.

Going and going and going until you almost couldn’t anymore.

Once you were almost satisfied, you bunched Chan’s hair in your hand and yanked him off of you. His eyes scrunched closed as he heaved in heavily, gasping and panting heavily.

“Finally put that big fucking nose to good use, huh? You liked that, didn’t you? Burying your nose so deep in my fucking cunt? You’re such a dirty boy.”

You used the hand that was once holding your underwear to rest on his chin, spreading your thumb to hold one side of his face and the rest of your fingers on the other. You squeezed his cheeks hard, making his lips puff out as you lowered yourself to get closer to his level.

You leaned in to plant a kiss to his waiting lips. You slid your hand down to release his face and instead take hold around his neck. Your other hand laced around to take residence in the hair at the back of his head.

Now, you kissed, him deeply, throwing yourself into him and making him take it all. He threw his tongue into your mouth, letting out soft mewls as you bit back.

You were so lost in the kiss that your head began to spin, moving his head in every direction to gain access to new parts of his mouth.

You began to stand, clutching Chan’s neck to pull him up with you, never disconnecting his lips from yours. The smell of saliva and your juices took over as you each buried yourselves in. Locking into each other as you were both fully erect.

You each tangled your hands around each other as you stood for a long few moments, enjoying the passion between the two of you before you started toying with him once again.

Once the air was rushing out of your head, you pulled yourself back harshly. You scanned over his beautiful face, drenched in liquid. His lips were red and puffy, his eyes clouded over, but chipper as if awaiting what was to come next.

‘This fucking boy,’ you thought.

You quickly spit onto your hand as you hastened your hand down to grab Chan’s dick again. Jerking quickly, you could tell by his face that it was completely overstimulating all too quickly. But you couldn’t help it. He just looked too cute.

He whimpered as you kept going, looking like he would lose his breath at any moment. The sounds just turned you on more.

“You can’t even handle this? Can’t handle getting your dick touched without fucking blowing? You better not fucking cum Christopher,” you demanded.

Chan’s face contorted, puffing out his cheeks and throwing his head back to stifle any moans that would have come out. His face was visibly red. His abs began to twitch as you stroked him even harder. Faster. You knew he wouldn’t be able to last anymore. His dick peaked, as hard as you’d ever felt it. A new sensation had been unlocked. A few more pumps and he’d be over.

As suddenly as you started, you jerked your hand back and off of him. Below, you watched in awe as his dick was still quivering from the arousal it had been getting. Up and down, back and forth, slightly as he let out muffled whines, eyes almost tearing up.

You chuckled softly, making sure it was loud enough so that he could hear it. “You really are a subby baby, aren’t you?” you smiled deviously.

Resting a hand on his beating chest, you walked him backward until his knees undid over the bed and he was propelled down.

Wasting no time, you grabbed the brightly-colored lube bottle next to his head and squeezed it out into your hand. It was cold, which you figured would be perfect for the occasion.

You perched yourself on your knees next to Chan, reaching your hands down to begin massaging the lube onto him. He winced at the chill of your touch, but soon started to warm up as you massaged it into him. He let his eyes flutter closed as he began taking deep breaths, enjoying this small stent of peace.

“No falling asleep now,” you teased. “Wake up and put this on,” you demanded, throwing the cock ring at him.

Before he could react, the plastic-y material hit him in the chest, bouncing down to land on his torso. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down with wide eyes and his mouth gaped.

You watched as he swallowed harshly, looking as if he was trying to find the right words. He took the toy and rotated it around in one hand, searching for an answer.

“Uhmm, I don’t-“ he started, looking defeated. “I don’t think I know how…”

“Awww, little baby can’t figure it out?” you taunted, leaning down. “Can’t wrap his pretty little brain around it? Poor thing.” You quickly jerked it from his hand.

“Watch,” you raised your voice at him, lifting your eyebrows as if to threaten him. You held the ring in your hands, coating it in the left-over, slippery lube. Pressing it down and onto the tip of his dick, it was already a tight fit, wrapping around him snuggly. You admired the way the blood rushed through, leaving the tip of him totally engorged. “Feels good already, doesn’t it?” you giggled as he let out a breath he’d been holding in, writhing and looking pitiful beneath you.

“But you can do more,” you said airily as you began working the ring down his length. He let out small moans and grunts along the way until you made it to the base of his shaft.

It was the perfect size. Just tight enough to keep him wiggling, but not too tight to stop him from experiencing the heightened sensations.

“Mmm, isn’t that better?” You smiled. “Good boy,” you praised, lowering your face to plant a slow kiss on his tip. “For now,” you jolted up. “Now flip over. I want you on your hands and knees,” you instructed.

Chan offered an overt gulp before complying with your request.

Once he’d gotten into position, you could tell he was a bit nervous. This was the most vulnerable he’d ever been with you. And a part of you questioned if he would back out now. Would he make it this far before he realized he couldn’t go through with it?

You pushed the thoughts out of your head, realizing that those were your insecurities in this, not his. And you’d make for fucking sure that he wouldn’t want to stop this.

You grasped his hips and pulled them back, arching his back slightly to get his ass higher up. Stealthily, you held onto each side, rubbing harshly before planting short smacks, leaving behind the sound of sharp skin.

A smile eased across your face as you heard Chan moan the slightest bit. Like he was trying to conceal it.

“What was that?” You smirked, landing a larger, rougher slap to one side of his ass.

His face scrunched up before sucking in sharply.

“I didn’t hear you baby. What is it? Do you need more? You need more before I can even fucking hear you?!” Your words were forceful now. Challenging.

You violently shoved his hips down more so his ass was even more prominent. One after another, you began to plant harsh slaps until his cheeks were visibly more and more red. Loud moans now escaped his lips, growing in intensity with each smack.

Chan started panting heavily, letting out a small cry that only turned you on more.

“Fucking slut,” you muttered. “Like getting spanked by your own girlfriend? Like looking like a sloppy mess for me? Not even able to shut your fucking mouth and take it like a real man?” you taunted him. Hearing Chan’s cries getting louder and louder was all the confirmation you needed.

“Because you’re not, are you?” you chuckled, pulling your hands from him. You quickly pulled the strap on towards you to shimmy inside. You clicked the button to start the vibrator as you secured yourself in place.

“No, you’re not a real man…” you continued as you placed more lube into your hand. You tried to steady yourself as the new buzzing over your clit settled in, knocking you back the slightest bit. After regaining your footing, you went on.

“You’re just a tiny little hole who wants to be used, huh? Is that right?” You rubbed the lube along the length of the dildo strapped onto you. “You just wanna be used like the fucking slut you are?”

With that, you used one hand to place another solid smack over the redness that had already been formed, while using one lubed finger to push slightly into Chan’s asshole.

An auditory moan was heard as the wind was knocked out of him, feeling a sensation he’d never known was possible. You let him adjust slightly before pulling out and pushing back in.

Chan relaxed his arms and let his face hit the mattress as you continued with your finger in him, growing faster and faster by the second.

Tiny whines of pleasure worked their way out of Chan’s throat with every stroke. He began to move his hips along with the motion, throwing his ass backward so you could reach deeper inside him.

“Ahh fuck,” he mumbled as you kept going.

“Goddamn, already cursing for me? That’s not a good sign,” you tsked. “We’re just getting started,” you smiled. Deep panting was all you received in response.

“But the baby wants more, huh? Poor little baby,” you mocked. “You’re gonna get what you get then. And you better take it all without fucking complaining.”

Suddenly, you pulled out and brought a second finger to his hole, inserting them much quicker than you’d done with the first.

Underneath you, Chan gripped the bedsheets with his fists, settling with his mouth wide open and eyes rolled back, holding in any noise he possibly could.

“Ahhh, good boy. See, it isn’t that hard, is it?” you grinned again before beginning to ram your fingers into him quicker. You worked your way up, as fast as you could before curving your fingers into him.

With that, Chan couldn’t help himself. He let out the loudest, most ungodly moan you’d ever heard. Pure ecstasy in every last ounce of breath he put out. You could tell that he was doing all he could to not scream from the pleasure.

His reaction mixed with the tingly feeling that had washed over your clit by this point, got you to the level that you just couldn’t stand it anymore.

After giving him a few more pumps with curved fingers, you pulled out, running your hand along the shaft of the dildo again. He whimpered at the loss of contact, earning him another huge smack, essentially telling him to keep quiet.

“You still can’t shut the fuck up, can you? You like being degraded like this. I never knew my boyfriend was such a fucking whore.” Another slap.

“Now,” you continued, “we’re both gonna sit here until you start acting better and ask nicely for me to put this dick inside of you. And ask like you fucking mean it.”

Chan stilled for a moment, breathing heavily as if his brain was fogged over and he couldn’t comprehend what he needed to do. Slowly, he arched his back further, pushing his ass to the perfect angle. You both sat in silence for a few moments before soft words began to slur from Chan’s mouth.

“Please… will you fuck me?” he whispered timidly, his face the brightest shade of red.

“Maybe if you’d say it loud enough that I could FUCKING hear you!” you yelled, lining yourself up to him. You impatiently let the tip of the dildo circle around his outline. You brought your hands to his waist, grabbing onto him with the most force you could muster, taking him off guard.

Chan yelped loudly at the contact. “Please baby… PLEASE will you fuck me?” he cried out in desperation.

His pleas left you with a soft smile. “See, that wasn’t too hard now was it?” you excessively teased before pulling his waist back to force him down onto the dildo.

As quickly as it filled him, you felt it too. The insane increase in the vibration of the vibrator now rubbing up to the perfect spot on your clit. You let out a harsh moan at the feeling, enjoying this more than you’d thought possible.

“Ahh fuck baby,” you spat out, pulling your hips back before snapping them back in. The pressure was too good for you to handle.

All you could hear was Chris cursing under his breath and letting out the most guttural, obscene moans you’d ever heard. Like a symphony that had just died and been resurrected, unknown that life could take form like this.

He panted heavily, writhing in the sheets as you began to plow into him, faster and faster. Your hands gripped onto him so tightly that you were sure he’d have bruises. But that’s what you wanted. You needed him to slap into you as hard as possible. You needed to feel all of it.

“I’m not gonna-“ Chan tried to get out before pausing to let out a loud whine. “Fuck,” he cried, “I’m not gonna last much longer,” he admitted lowly, ashamed that he was already so close to being on the edge.

“Yes you are,” you smacked his ass again as you thrust in. You wrapped your arms swiftly around his waist to pull his torso upright. The dildo was still resting deep inside of him as his body came up, his back pressing into your chest. You squeezed him again, making sure he was pulled taunt to you before snaking a hand up to his throat.

“You are gonna last longer because I’m fucking telling you to. Is that clear? You’re not done until I cum. Stupid fucking whore,” you threatened, directly into his ear.

Your hips snapped up, not giving him a chance to answer. He could only let out the sweetest moan you’d ever heard.

As you began humping into him, you felt that prominent tingly feeling at your core. You knew if you kept this up, your orgasm would come sooner than you’d hoped. But you couldn’t stop pumping into him. It felt too fucking good. Your clit throbbed and your knees were about to give in, but nothing could hold you back now.

You grabbed Chan’s throat harder, squeezing it until you knew he’d have trouble getting steady breaths in and out. You used this as your vantage point to steady him as your other hand folded around his waist and down to his dick. You grabbed it into your hand quickly, not wasting any time.

He hissed as you began to quickly jerk him up and down while pounding into him, trying to focus on his breathing before giving in entirely.

You felt him clench down onto the dildo, putting more pressure onto it and the vibrator attached. You felt your inner thighs begin to twitch. Your own breathing began to falter out. You knew you needed to make the most of these last few moments.

“You are such a dirty fucking slut, you know that?” you whispered into his ear, licking it softly before turning his head toward you by his throat.

You connected your mouth to his, saliva going everywhere as you devoured him until the last second. Biting at him until you could taste blood. Choking him until he was gasping under you for air. Blood rushing to your head from the adrenaline and the sight of your boyfriend totally and completely at your mercy. Your bitch. Anything you wanted him to be.

You rammed his body down by his throat to push him into you harder, fucking into him with everything you had. Your hand was fast on his dick, working him up to the point that tears began to stream down his face.

“This is what you wanted,” you smiled, biting down on his shoulder. “Wanted to cry your fucking heart out to how good I could use you... Ahhh fuck,” you growled, the stimulation about to send you over.

“My sweet little baby Channie,” you whispered into his ear ever so lightly, placing one more kiss to it. So soft it was almost a tickle. You could taste the salty liquid that had spilled out of his eyes and had run across his face. Tears still coming down while your hand stifled his cries and moans.

“I know you want to cum,” you breathed out, fucking him with your hips and hand as fast as possible. “Cum for me baby. Let it all out,” you purred.

Suddenly, without your permission, your own body jolted, hitting your high. You began to convulse uncontrollably, sending shocks throughout your very core, leaving Chan with sporadic, trembling thrusts and shaky hands.

“Fuck Channie,” you cried, trying to ride out your own high, but almost passing out in the process. “Cum right fucking now. Right fucking now!” you yelled, not knowing if you’d be able to survive the overstimulation of fucking him any longer.

You let go of his throat long enough for him to take a deep gasp for air and cry out as he too began to shake around you. His limbs began to flail as his body gave out, screaming and crying as he lost control. Cum shot out of him with more force than it ever had, leaving his head spinning and mind completely numb.

Losing hold of him, he collapsed out of your arms, spasming the same as you as he tried to regain his sense of being.

You took a deep breath before falling next to him on the bed, heaving heavily until your breath came back to you. Chan was doing the same while covering his face with his hands, embarrassed again all of a sudden.

You gave him a moment to collect himself before leaning over to kiss his forehead and remove his hands. You placed a soft kiss to his nose while you held his hands in yours.

“How was it baby?” you smiled as you whispered.

“It was…” he contemplated finding the right word. “Insane,” he laughed, finally coming back to his normal self.

“Hopefully insane in a good way?” you cocked a brow toward him.

“Yes, in a good way.” He squeezed your hand before turning his head slightly to look up toward the ceiling, not making eye contact with you. He closed his eyes, chuckling to himself.

“You don’t really think I’m a ‘fucking slut’, do you?” he kept giggling, teasing the way you’d talked to him.

“Oh I do. I think you’re my fucking slut,” you lightheartedly winked. You brought your lips back to his as he smiled into the kiss, shaking his head back and forth.

“What am I gonna do with you now?” he laughed as he pulled back and brought you into his chest.

[floweringlino]

Voicemails | B.C

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 ; He lost the one person he loved most and maybe this is his last chance to get them back

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 ; Chan x GN!reader

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 ; angst, heartbreak, Chan was an ass

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ; 0,5k

✎ ❀

"Hi! You have reached the voicemail of me! Y/N. If I didn't answer your phone it's not because i’m ignoring you. I probably just didn't hear it because it's on silent. Please leave me a message!"

Take a deep breath Chan.

"Hi Y/N, i’m sorry for bothering you again. It feels like this is the 1000th voicemail I've sent but I can't give up trying."

"I’m calling to apologise. That feels like the least I should do. I let you go when you needed me the most and i treated you like shit. I always thought you were okay with my job but I could never see the tole it took on you and the pain it caused because I was too busy with myself."

"I didn't notice that when I stayed in the studio till late in the night, you stayed up to take care of me. I always thought that you didn't care that much when I had to cancel a date again. It bothered you and I ignored it. I ignored your pain."

"I cared for you so much before I got you and then when we finally happened, I took it all for granted. I was so busy with the work that I forgot the person that cared for me most, loved me most and cherished me most. I don't think anyone could love me as much as you and im so so sorry for not showing you before. I took it all for granted and lost you because of it"

It cuts off. Again

"Hi! You have reached the voicemail of me! Y/N. If I didn't answer your phone it's not because im ignoring you. I probably just didn't hear it because it's on silent. Leave me a message!"

"I’m sorry I keep speaking so long. I'll finish it in this last voicemail."

"Did you get my flowers? I’m sorry for never sending you any even though you have told me countless times how much you loved them. I now realise that those were hints for me to try harder."

"I miss your voice, I miss the twinkle in your eyes when you saw something you liked. I miss the way your nails trailed down my back in the early mornings. I miss how you took care of me. I miss how you always asked how my work was even if it was so late at night that the sun started to rise again. I miss everything about you."

"I take a lot of walk now to clear my mind, like you always told me too. Surprisingly it's actually been working. My mind, It's been clouded lately and i feel like there is no one for me to talk to. My mind keeps wondering to you. What are you doing? Have you been drinking enough water? You always used to forget. Do you ever think about me the way i think about you?"

"Is it selfish of me to think that maybe there is a chance you will take me back? Im not making any empty promises and I fully understand if you tell me ive had my chance and I screwed up, but please call me back. I just need to hear your voice one more time of this is the last time.

I love you"

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