#down horrendous for lee chan

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

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So, I recently watched the Inside Seventeen video where Seungkwan, Vernon and Dino were interacting with children and, I want to die. Just imagine Dino coming home afterwards still feeling so soft and so endeared by those children. Then he sees you laying on the couch, seemingly mindlessly scrolling through your phone on your back, your shorts clinging to your thighs rather invitingly and a sliver of your hip and stomach being exposed due to your sweater riding up. The urge to see you filled with his cum and, swollen with his child hits him like a punch to the gut. He wants nothing more than a little person with his eyes and your smile in that moment. You've spoken about children before, the conversation being nothing new but, the desire to breed you has never felt quite this visceral before. Dino makes his way over to you and before you can even utter a greeting, he pulls you into a heated kiss with one of his hands cupping your face and the other gripping your hip tightly.

[vcrnons]

DINO 'Wait' Official MV

[sailorrhansol]

Blood & Popcorn | l.c (m)

❀ Pairing: Lee Chan x f. Reader 

❀ Summary: Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. It’s been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn. 

❀ Word Count: 11,315

❀ Genre: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff

❀ Type: Smut 

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Literally so much misunderstanding and repressed feelings, pining, light themes of jealousy, recreational drinking, recreational weed use, bad communication skills, some mild insecurities, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (do not do this lmaooo), nipple stim, light teasing, oral (f. receiving), clumsy/playful sex, jokes/banter while fucking. They’re both down horrendous. Joshua as an almost love interest. Jeonghan is both terrible and great at advice. Alternating POVs and some time skips. 

❀ A/N: This is another work coming from a conversation with @daechwitatamic who at this point, I think had been the driving force behind all three random one shots I’ve written. I apparently can’t say no when she asks for something :) so anyway, here is simp Lee Chan and simp reader because ???? And yes I'm posting this at 11:30 pm at night who cares there are no rules!!!!!!!!

❀ A/N 2: Also thank you to Jo for reading this before hand because it would be otherwise largely illegible. King Julian is on the way, bestie.   

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

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“So why not Blood and Pizza if pizza is always involved but popcorn isn’t?” Mingyu eyes the french fries on your plate. You give him a warning glance, pointing the sharp tines of your fork at him. He retreats, leaning against the cracked vinyl of the booth, pouting. “Also, the title sounds gross.”

“Good thing it has nothing to do with you then.” 

“Wow, you’re not even going to invite me?” 

“No,” you chirp, popping a shoestring fry into your mouth. You savor the saltiness, humming delightedly. “It’s for me and Chan. Not me, Chan and you. Plus, you know nothing about Buffy.” 

“Isn’t that a magic dragon? And are you sure you two aren’t dating?” 

The look you send Mingyu makes him hold up his hands in surrender. It isn’t the first time someone has asked if you and Chan are dating, and you know it won’t be the last. You don’t want to start down that avenue tonight, trying to navigate the questions of why and well you seem to be a good match. 

If romantic relationships were started over simply having things in common and matching a vibe, you and Chan would have started dating a long time ago. But you’re not, and you’ve already gotten over the fact that you’re not dating and that you will not start dating.

Mostly. 

The bell rings above the diner door, drawing your attention. Like he’s been manifested by Mingyu’s dangerous question, Chan spots you and lifts a hand, a smile splitting his face as he heads over. You scoot over in the booth, dragging your plate along with you to make room for him. 

Chan is dressed in jeans and a green sweater, your favorite color on him. He sits down next to you, cushioned seat dipping a little as he leans over to kiss the top of your head and steal fries off of your plate. You let him, feeling heat flush up the side of your neck as you look anywhere but Mingyu’s accusatory stare.

“These are so good,” Chan says around a mouthful of fries. “Thanks, Bambi.”

You grin at the nickname, trying not to flush too hard. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Mingyu says pointedly. You ignore him, shoving your burger in your mouth. “Apparently I’m not allowed fries or to attend your movie night.”

“Order your own fries,” Chan says. 

“Ugh. I already ate mine.”

“So order more, idiot. And of course you’re not invited to Blood and Popcorn. That’s our thing.” 

Our thing. 

The corner of your mouth twitches as you glance at Chan. He doesn’t notice, catching the eyes of the server and waving happily, giving her a broad smile. She gives him a thumbs up in return, confirming she’ll put in his usual now that he’s there. 

There are a lot of things that belong to you and Chan. Studying at the very diner you were sitting in during freshman year had been one of them, though now in your final year there’s not as much of a need to study and you’ve incorporated other friends in your late night trips for grease and calories. 

You also shared trivia nights on Tuesdays with Vernon and Seungkwan, football Sundays with Seungcheol, Mingyu and Jeonghan, once a month family dinners with everyone, and most importantly, Blood and Popcorn. 

Chan steals another fry off of your plate and you let him, leaning back in the booth. Mingyu glares daggers at you, dark eyes flicking from your plate, to you, to Chan. You grin around a mouthful of cheeseburger and he scoffs before looking away. 

Behind you, Chan’s arm stretches across the back of the booth, just barely brushing against the top of your shoulders. Your stomach flips a little, momentarily elated at the contact before you swallow it down with Sprite, pretending it wasn’t there in the first place. 

The two boys immediately fall into a conversation about their shared engineering class. You tune it out easily, a learned habit over the last four years of having to listen to Chan tell you the functions of a bridge and the best way to design one. Instead, you focus on the rise and fall of Chan’s soft voice and the way it lulls you into a state of calm. 

When the server brings over his order, he pulls his arm from over the back of the seat. Immediately you snatch one of the onion rings from his basket, popping one into your mouth and hissing as the crispy snack burns you. He shakes his head, laughing as he gives you a napkin while you sputter.

“Careful, Bambi,” he murmurs. “They’re literally steaming.” 

Mingyu reaches for an onion ring, only to be threatened with the blunt end of Chan’s steak knife. “Don’t even think about it.”

“But she-”

“Bambi has special privileges,” Chan quips. “Order yourself some more fries for the love of God. I’ll pay for them.” 

Mingyu immediately stops whining, mood improving markedly as he orders fries, wiggling in his seat happily. Chan cuts his burger in half, asking, “Why were you talking about Blood and Popcorn anyway?” 

“Shua asked Bambi out on a date,” Mingyu answers around a mouthful of fries. “She told him she couldn’t go because of Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan stops eating and looks at you, brows creasing. You feel your heart rate speed up as you kick Mingyu under the table. He yelps, knee jerking upward to slam against the underside of the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattle in place as Mingyu bends over to rub his shin. 

“He didn’t ask me out on a date.”

“He asked you to dinner!”

“As friends!”

“Oh yeah,” Mingyu snorts, rolling his eyes. “Friends take friends to fucking prime steakhouses. He asked you out on a date.” 

For a moment, silence envelops the table. You stare at your fries, watching Chan out of your periphery. He looks away from you, wiping the grease from his fingers onto the napkin. The air feels pregnant with tension suddenly, your anxiety bubbling as you open your mouth to assert once more it wasn’t a date.

Chan beats you to breaking the silence, “We can skip this Friday so you can go!”

You open and close your mouth a few times, heart dropping to your ass. “What?”

“It’s totally fine if we have to skip. I don’t mind.” 

Chan picks his burger back up, not looking at you. Heart pounding in your chest, you can’t help but watch him in total silence, trying to string together a response. Sure, maybe Chan doesn’t mind if you miss your weekly solo hangout. But you care. 

The ache of the implication cuts you suddenly, a delayed reaction. You feel your throat tighten painfully, reaching for your Sprite to try and swallow past the sudden tension. It does nothing to quell the way the casual dismissal of your tradition keeps cutting you long after he’s said the words, sawing down to the bone. 

“I wasn’t aware that we could just skip Blood and Popcorn, I guess.” 

“I mean if you’ve got a date.” 

That’s not the point, you want to scream at him. 

Chan is a lot of things. Perceptive isn’t one of them. If he had been, you know he would have sniffed out your feelings for him a long time ago. Luckily for you, he’s remained completely oblivious over the last four years of your friendship, and you like to keep it that way. Keep it safe. 

Nothing ruins a friendship more than unrequited romance. You know that from more than just the media you consume - you’ve seen more than once first hand when one friend catches feelings for the others but the desire isn’t mutual. 

It isn’t mutual here. It’s always been very clear where Chan’s interests lie, and you’re totally fine with that. You accept the relationship that you have happily and quietly, and thought moments like are a brutal reminder of where you stand, it’s alright because you also love your friendship. More than you love him - at least, you think so. 

So when Chan so easily suggests to go on a date, to cancel your thing with him to accommodate, you know it isn’t because he doesn’t care. He just thinks that you should go on a date because it doesn’t occur to him that the real reason you don’t want to is because your interests are somewhere else. That you don’t want to cancel Blood and Popcorn because it’s for the two of you and no one else. 

“Yeah,” you rasp, unsure what else to say. “Um, maybe.” 

“Shua is a good guy.” 

“Yeah. Yeah he is.” 

Mingyu and Chan go back to their conversation about class. You finish your meal in silence, leaning back against the seat as your thoughts wander listlessly. You gaze around the diner, drinking in detail as their conversation becomes background noise and you can no longer understand what they’re saying. 

Rounders Diner had been a staple in the college community long before you were born, and continues to be the center for academic life. Students fill the booths sipping on milkshakes as they cram for exams or homework, night shift workers sit at the countertop and order coffee before heading to work, and the jukebox in the corner glows neon, only offering a selection of music from the 50s. 

Behind the countertop is an open scratch kitchen, the sound of sizzling grease and yelled orders bracketing an Elvis song you know the words to but don’t know the name of. Black and white tile flooring with years worth of scuffs reflect the canned lighting in the ceiling. Over near the entrance is a wall covered in pictures of students of note throughout the years. 

You remember the first time Chan had hauled you to Rounders. It was the first day you’d met, two freshmen absolutely terrified of the world after experiencing two back to back intro courses together. The dining hall was on the opposite side of campus from your classes, but Chan had insisted there was a diner just off the corner that everyone said was a necessary experience. 

He was the first real friend you made. Your roommates had become your best friends too, Lorna and Mai splashed across almost every memory you have of college. But that first day is only colored with Chan, who had slid into the seat across from you and looked around the diner with a bright grin like he was suddenly at home. 

Wanna start coming here after class? 

You did. And you had. 

A hand waves in front of your face, making you blink several times before Chan’s face swims into focus. Your thoughts are a little delayed as you drink him in: dark hair framing dark, angular eyes that turn molten brown when the sun hits them just right, a jawline that has turned sharper as he’s aged, though his cheeks still have a youthful softness that you adore, and a grin that makes the world dim. 

“What?” you ask him, totally at a loss for words. 

He laughs and you feel the corners of your lips turn upward, an automatic response to his mirth. “I asked if you were ready to go.” 

You look up to see Mingyu at the register, passing over the bill and a card. “I think I spaced out. I thought you were buying him fries?”

He snorts. “Never fear, it’s my card. Everything okay?” 

You hesitate. Not for the first time, the urge to spill your guts to him grips you so forcefully that you almost do right in the middle of Rounders. Almost tell him everything from start to finish, the feelings, the reason you don’t want to date Joshua, how beautiful you think Chan is-

Mingyu starts heading back and you force a grin on your face, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Of course. A little tired, though. Thanks for dinner.” 

“You know I’ve got you.” He gets up from the booth and holds his hand out to you. “Always.” 

-

Chan is the stupidest fucking person he knows. He lets out a loud scream into the warmth of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays face down in his bed. His arms are shoved under the pillow, fisting in his sheets as the long-winded scream finally begins to die out. 

“Yes, that is healthy,” Seungkwan calls from Chan’s desk against the window. “Let the pillow know everything that you’re feeling.” 

Scowling, Chan lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at where Seungkwan is sitting. His roommate is hunched over Chan’s laptop, a document open on the screen as he clicks around rapidly, cursing under his breath. 

“Why are you in here again?”

“My literature professor is a dinosaur,” Seungkwan answers. “And only accepts printed essay submissions.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No, I mean you don’t have your own printer?” 

“No, and I will not be paying thirty cents a paper for an essay that is almost thirty pages long.” 

“That’s like, nine dollars dude. Also, why is your essay thirty pages long?”

“Ask the dude who wrote Beowulf.” 

“Isn’t that like… a movie?” 

Seungkwan mutters something under his breath. The printer chimes, followed by a mechanic whirring as the paper feeds into the machine and starts printing. Spinning in the chair, Seungkwan looks at where Chan is still laying stomach down, face squished against his pillow as he cradles it. 

“Speaking of movies - are you having Blood and Popcorn here or at Bambi’s?” 

Chan can’t help but smirk at the nickname. It had stuck ever since your freshman year when you’d called Rin Hartford a bambi-eyed bitch for saying nasty things to Mingyu. He thinks that night might be the night he realized he was absolutely head over heels for you, even if he had only known you for two weeks then. 

Despite your quiet disposition, you’ve always been the epitome of bravery. He can’t recall a time that you haven’t said what you meant or meant what you said, and defending your friends and speaking up has always been paramount to you. 

For someone like Chan who was often the youngest and the softest spoken in any group he was in, you were a breath of fresh air. And you’ve taught him to speak up for himself, letting him grow comfortable pushing back with people - especially his friends - and how to give back what he gets. 

Corrupted, Seungcheol joked once. She corrupted him and taught him how to bully us back. 

“I’m not really sure,” Chan says slowly, thinking about your conversation at the diner, the exact source of his pillow-scream. “We might not be doing it.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise. We’re just friends.” 

“That’s the trouble I’m talking about, brother.” Seungkwan turns around to start collecting the pages out of the printer. “Is the Blood and Popcorn cancellation the reason for your pillow screaming?” 

“I don’t know that it’s canceled.” 

“That really clarifies the issue.”

Chan scowls. “Did you know Shua was into her?” 

“Uh, yeah.”

“He asked her on a date.”

“Joshua must have got tired of waiting for you to make a move on Bambi. I guess he decided you weren’t going to.” 

Chan frowns and sits up. He didn’t realize Joshua remotely had a thing for you, and while Chan adores the older member of their larger friend group, the thought of him taking you to dinner - a date - makes his stomach tighten. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Seungkwan clarifies. “That you have had the last four years to nut up or shut up. Everyone has waited for you to make your move on Bambi and you haven’t. If you’re not going to do it, someone else might as well.” 

“I mean, anyone could ask her out. It’s not like I have-”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t have dibs. Dibs can be unspoken, Chan. You’ve been in love with that girl since freshman year, if you think people - especially our friends - cannot tell and don’t respect you enough to give you time to ask her out, you need to wake up.” 

“It’s that obvious?” 

“Not to her, clearly.” Seungkwan stands and grins at Chan placidly, his essay collected in his hands. “Fortunately for you, the only person who is as dumb as you are is Bambi. Match made in heaven, really.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. That offers a little bit of relief. He doesn’t like knowing that his feelings are so obvious to everyone else, but at least you don’t know. He cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would make your friendship dynamic knowing he was mooning over you while you just saw him as a friend. 

“Well, she doesn’t feel that way about me. I’m not going to confess my unrequited feelings and put her in that position to deal with them. It wouldn’t be fair.” 

Seungkwan gives Chan a slow blink, smile turning plastic. “Like I said. Match made in heaven.” 

Heaving a sigh, Chan throws himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Chan was certainly an idiot for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason has to be the way he has let his feelings for you fester since freshman year. Instead of implementing preventative maintenance, he’s let the problem grow to the point that his friends are no longer waiting for him to do something about it. 

The window of opportunity is gone. 

Not that there was a window of opportunity to begin with. Chan has seen what it looks like when you’re interested in guys - dazed eyes, a little flustered, a tiny grin on your face. You’ve never looked at him that way. At least, not really like that. You smile at him all the time, but it’s different. 

If he had the slightest indication you looked at him like you were interested, he’d have spilled his feelings a long time ago. Hiding this from you feels almost like a violation of friendship, but in order to preserve the friendship and keep you comfortable, he does what he must. 

The memory of him telling you to go on a date with Joshua makes him  groan in embarrassment. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his lids. It had been a knee jerk response, something to distract you from the immediate jealousy and panic he’d felt that moment that Mingyu had dropped that bit of information at the table.

Mingyu. That motherfucker did it on purpose - not to rile Chan, but to try and  give him a kick in the ass toward the right direction. But like everyone else, Mingyu doesn’t get it. If Chan told you how he felt just to get it off of his chest, it would be putting his burden on you. You’d be the one who had to feel guilty for it being unrequited, you’d be the one who would inevitably feel uncomfortable or out of place. 

No. It would be the highest form of selfishness he can think of, offloading the heavy weight of his feelings just to give them to you as a reprieve from carrying them around so long. 

Chan blinks away the swimming colors, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom again. He can hear Seungkwan singing somewhere in the apartment, liquid voice calming even in Chan’s mild state of distress. 

Joshua is a good guy. Honestly, there are only a few guys that Chan knows who would make a suitable partner for you, and he begrudgingly acknowledges that Joshua is at the top of that list. And yet he still feels a twist of self-loathing that he had pushed you so quickly towards it, the regret like bile in his stomach. 

The last thing Chan wants to do is skip Blood and Popcorn this week. It is the one guaranteed day of uninterrupted time with you, and he waved it away like it meant nothing to him, which could not be farther from the truth. The nights of watching Buffy and eating pizza and sometimes popcorn mean everything to him. 

He just wishes he had been brave enough to stand his ground. 

-

Maybe Joshua Hong is the worst person ever. Chan dismisses the irrational thought as soon as he has it. Joshua isn’t awful at all. It’s just that he’s leaning in toward you and saying something into your ear over the loud din of the party, and Chan watches the way you nod. 

Crack. The plastic cup in his hand splits and immediately spills rum and coke all over the kitchen floor. Jeonghan starts yelling at him, ripping paper towels off of the roll and throwing them in Chan’s direction. He mutters an apology, gaze drifting over the kitchen counter to the living room where you’re laughing, head tilted back, warm light splaying across your throat-

“Ya! Don’t just let it pool at your feet!”

Jeonghan’s screech brings Chan back to life. He snatches the copious amounts of paper towels Jeonghan has thrown at him and starts to soak up the drink. The tile floor is already sticky and Chan cringes. No way have either Jeonghang or Seungcheol cleaned this floor any time recently. If anything, Chan has done it a favor. 

The party is in full swing around him. He stands up with the soaked paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash and grabbing more while Jeonghan digs underneath the counter. Chan finishes soaking up the spilled drink and comes eye to eye with a new set of paper towels and spray cleaner. 

Chan gives Jeonghan the soaked papers. “Jeonghan, your floor is already disgusting.”

“Then you should have no problem cleaning it!” 

“Sure, Mom.” 

“Don’t call me that!”

He rolls his eyes but does what Jeonghan says, spraying the area quickly and pressing down the paper towels. They come away sticky and black, making him cringe in disgust before tossing them out and washing his hands. As he turns off the faucet, Jeonghan has the decency to hand him a new drink.

Chan takes it without comment, the image of Joshua leaning into you a little too much for him to deal with right now. He drains the cup, sputtering a little. Jeonghan is a heavy pour and the spiced rum goes down rough, his eyes tearing just a little as he finishes the drink. 

“Well, that’s one way to stop from spilling.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a look before reaching for the mixer and handle of rum again. “You do normally drink like a fish, but anything in particular driving tonight’s thirst?” 

“Nope.”

“Right, so it’s not tall, dark and handsome hanging out with Bambi?”

Chan feels his eye twitch as he heavily pours the liquor into his cup. “Nope. And Joshua isn’t even that tall.” 

“Taller than you.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a venomous look. His face is beatific, grin a little bit dangerous as he holds his hands up in a white flag. “You look pretty bothered. If only there were a way to fix that.” Chan looks at Jeonghan with wide eyes, hope surging for a moment. “Just tell her you like her.” 

“Why is that the only advice any of you have?”

“Because it’s the only advice I have. Either tell her or get over your feelings. Those are your options.” 

“And I’ve already told you, it would just make her uncomfortable. It’s not her burden to bear.” 

Jeongan taps his fingers on the countertop, studying Chan. Chan pouts into his cup, taking long draughts, trying not to cringe at the strong taste. He can already sense the oncoming buzz and he welcomes it, needing a little something to distract him from the obvious elephant in the living room. 

“Alright,” Jeognhan relents. “Then deal with the consequences and get over your feelings.” 

And he will. Chan has always been good at dealing with the repercussions of hiding his feelings, and he does them well. So he tips back the cup and rejoins the party, nerves steeled and ready to deal with the consequences like his friends keep telling him to. 

-

“What?” you asked, lifting your voice to be heard over the rowdy game of cards at the coffee table. Joshua had asked you something but the words had been lost on you as your gaze drifted to Chan where he was leaning against the wall, talking to a girl you didn’t know. He was leaning awfully close. “I didn’t catch that.” 

Joshua smiles. He really is handsome, and everything someone could want in a partner. He’s kind and gentle, has a little bit of an insane streak, and he is incredibly intelligent and loyal. So why do you feel nothing when he grins at you or laughs? 

Your eyes drift over to Chan again and you feel your stomach flip. The alcohol turns to lead. The girl Chan is speaking to is so close to him, both of them turned toward one another as he ducks his head down to say something to her. She laughs and he smiles, looking her up and down.

Jealousy swallows you whole. It roars so loudly in your ears that you almost miss Joshua’s question again. “Did you give any thoughts about dinner on Friday?” 

Dinner? Friday? Oh right. He had asked you to dinner on Friday, but you’d declined due to your planned Blood and Popcorn night. With Chan. Who is flirting with the girl next to him, who is flirting back. 

The jealousy feels like a raw, rotten thing. It turns the alcohol in your stomach sour, makes the sweat on the back of your neck feel too much, like the room is too loud and too full. Even as the envy rears its head, an ugly beast ready to unleash, you turn to Joshua and say, “I really can’t. Friday nights are really important to me.” 

Joshua looks disappointed, but he’s polite enough to nod and smile. “I understand. Maybe a different night?”

“Um, maybe. Would you excuse me? I really need some air.” 

You stand abruptly, starling the people next to you. The cup in your hand shakes a little and your throat constricts and oh god. You cannot cry in the middle of a party just because you’re a little buzzed and the boy you like is across the room with another girl. 

“Do you want me to-”

“No!” You quip, shaking your head. “Totally fine, I’m so fine, I just need some air. Please! Sit! Stay!” 

Joshua raises his eyebrows at your frantic commands and you give a laugh that is a little on the hysterical side as you step over the legs of people sitting on the floor and on the couch. Joshua calls after you as you make the escape but you don’t turn around, eager to get out of the room. 

You trip over someone’s foot and nearly launch into a passerby as you go. Strong hands steady you before you totally topple over, though your drink sloshes over the edge of your cup, spilling it on the carpet. 

“What is it with you and your other half?” You look up to realize that it’s Jeonghan who stabilized you. “Spilling drinks all over my damn floor!”

“It probably helps. Your floors are disgusting.”

“Ya! That’s beside the point - why do you look like you’re about to die?”

“I feel like I might. I need fresh air.”  For a moment, Jeonghan looks confused. You watch his dark brows pull together and he looks over your head, dark gaze scanning for something. For Chan, you realize. It’s usually Chan who leaves with you if you need air or need to stick your head in a bucket to vomit. The realization hits you like a brick. “Not him,” you whisper. “I’m fine.” 

Your words land at the same time Jeonghan focuses in the direction you’d last seen Chan. He holds you there, suspended in time for a moment as his eyes dart between you and back to where you know Chan is still leaning against the wall. 

There is a flicker of something that you cannot place in Jeonghan’s gaze before it softens and he nods. He pulls you toward him and helps guide you around the groups of people. “Fresh air it is.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“I don’t know, crying alone is kind of lame, Bambi.”

Cool air hits you the second you step onto the porch. Soonyoung is sitting on the railing with Jihoon and Vernon leaning next to him. He waves enthusiastically when he sees you, breaking out into a grin and lifting the joint between his fingers, an offer. You shake your head and he shrugs, passing it to Vernon who lifts a hand in salute. 

The smell of weed chases you down the grass slope of Jeonghan’s backyard. It’s not so much a backyard as it is open to the apartment community’s lake. The spray of the fountain grows louder as the sounds of the party fade. 

Jeonghan sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands. You join him, cringing at the dampness from the dewey grass. Taking in a deep breath you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting the wind cool the sweat on your overheated skin. The breeze mists the fountain, tiny specks of water tingling on your face as you sit in silence. 

Behind your lids, you can see the image of Chan leaning in toward that girl. The intimacy of the space. You hate how you can recall it in such detail - you’d always been able to remember details where Chan was involved. Like the way he was wearing a black, long-sleeved tee that pulled against his chest and arms perfectly, or the way the necklace you bought him two years ago glinted in the light of the living room, or the way-

“I did it to myself, huh?” you ask, feeling the first tear collect on your lash line. You tilt your head upward, trying to blink it rapidly away. “I could have just told him a while ago.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re entirely responsible,” Jeonghan mutters. “Look, putting your heart on your sleeve is really scary, especially when it’s to someone you really value. But you have to decide what to do. You can either tell Chan you love him or you can decide to get over it. You can’t cling to unspoken feelings, though.”

“I just… I don't feel like he returns the feelings and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Then get over him.” You snap your gaze at Jeonghan, who is looking at you with the cool and calm you wish you felt. “If you’re unwilling to be honest with him, then your option is to get over it.” 

“Do you think he would… react poorly?”

“Of course not, but I will not speak to all of Chan’s feelings. Those are his to share, not mine, and I believe in the sanctity of acting on one’s own.”

“You sound so… saintly.”

“Dealing with all your problems has turned me into a saint. Do you know what it’s like being therapy to all of these damn people? You all take ‘door open’ a little too seriously.”

You laugh, feeling a little lighter. Pulling at the grass, you sigh. “You’re right, though. I either need to just tell him or let it go. I can’t just… suffer.”

“If only you’d come to that conclusion a while ago.”

“Bleh.” 

Fresh air and the weight of Jeonghan’s words weigh down on you. You know that he’s right. Though you’re confident that Chan doesn’t return your feelings, you don’t explicitly know because you’ve never asked. And if you never ask, you’ll never know. 

Calm settles over you as you decide your course of action. Blood and Popcorn is in two days - you can bring it up then. 

Nodding to yourself, you pluck more grass out of the ground. “Alright,” you tell Jeonghan, heaving a sigh. “Thanks, Mom.” 

“Ugh, you two! Don’t call me that!”

-

Hands shaking, you stare at your phone. You’ve had two days to mentally prepare for this evening and yet when you look at your phone, you think two days was not remotely enough to prepare for this evening. You haven’t spoken to Chan at all about what time you want to have your weekly hangout, but that’s not unusual. 

The only thing unusual is your hesitation to hit the call button and ask what time he wants to come over. It’s such a simple thing - you don’t need to confess your feelings to him right now. But the anticipation of what inviting him over means and the possible disaster it can bring makes your fingers shaky. 

Instead of hitting dial, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly. In slowly again, and-

Your phone starts ringing before you can finish the exhale. Your heart pounds in your throat when you see Chan’s name flash across your screen. For a few seconds there is pure panic, but you manage to collect yourself and slide your thumb across the screen. It takes a few tries, your hands clammy with anxiety as you answer. 

“Hi!”

“Don’t kill me,” Chan immediately says on the other side of the line. You pause, cocking your head. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“I have to raincheck on Blood and Popcorn tonight.”

“Oh no, are you sick? Do you need me to bring anything over? Is Seungkwan-”

Chan laughs on the other side of the phone and your stomach flutters helplessly. You hear the creak of bed springs and you know he’s sitting on his bed. He has the world’s creakiest bed. “I’m not sick.”

“Oh.” 

You frown, sitting down on your couch and folding your legs. There’s nothing else you can think of that Chan would cancel Blood and Popcorn for, so illness had seemed like the first rational thing. You feel a little embarrassed at immediately trying to take care of him, but push it away to ask, “What’s up?” 

“I have a date. Tonight is the only night she was available for like two weeks. She’s in her first year of law school so her availability sucks.” 

It feels like the air vanishes from the room. You lean back against the backrest on the couch, deflated. You hold the phone to your ear, but don’t feel the weight of it in your hand. The TV across the living room becomes a blur, the muted program in the background unrecognizable. 

A date. Chan has a date. That he’s willing to cancel your night for. 

You think back to that night at the diner when he told you to just go out with Joshua instead of doing Blood and Popcorn. How easily he pushed it aside. Like it was unimportant. Easily missed. 

“Bambi?” Chan’s voice sounds distant through the roar of your emotions. “You there? The cell service in your apartment is so shitty.” 

“I’m here.” 

“Oh good. Sorry to miss, please don’t kill me. We can add two days of Blood and Popcorn next week to make up for it?”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah.” 

There’s a pause. “Are you okay?”

“Definitely.” Lie. “Sorry, I just woke up from a nap and I’m a little spacy.” Lie. “No problems here. I’m not mad. Enjoy your date.” Lie. 

“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes after!” 

“For sure.” 

When Chan hangs up the phone, you think that Jeonghan was right. Crying alone is lame. 

-

Chan can’t do this. 

Sol isn’t the problem - at least not directly. She is beautiful and funny, sharp as a whip and has an edge to her that he loves in women. She is successful, has goals, and she’s sensible. And she’s into him, which is perhaps the biggest plus of all. 

But she isn’t you. Sol’s biggest problem is that she’s not you, and it’s not really her problem at all. It is Chan’s and Chan’s alone, and he cannot sit through this date anymore. He’s tried for the last hour already, asking all of the right questions and laughing at all the right places, but he cannot stop the way he wonders if you’re watching buffy. He cannot help but wonder if you’re in those expensive pajamas you like, drinking inexpensive wine from the corner story, his favorite contrast. 

Chan cannot stop thinking that his button up is a little too tight on his chest and the uncomfortable way his new shoes rub his ankle. He’d rather be in a tee and shorts, freshly showered and stretched out. He cannot stop blinking his eyes, hating the way one of his contacts is irritating him, wishing instead to be in glasses and the lowlight of your apartment. 

From the moment he ended that call with you to cancel Blood and Popcorn, all he’s felt is dread. Dread for the upcoming date with someone he should be excited about, dread for telling you how it goes, dread for having to be in public with people and to get to know someone, dread at what happens at the end of the date, does he have to kiss her? Does he have to go get ice cream? What does he do-

“Are you okay?” Sol’s raspy voice draws him from his thoughts - not for the first time that night. She’s leaning back in her seat, dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She is as sharp as she is beautiful, and normally someone like Sol would make him trip over his feet. “You zoned out.”

“I apologize, that was rude of me.”

“It was,” she agrees. She swirls the wine in her glass, looking him up and down before giving him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t be offended if you want to call this off early.” 

“What?”

“You’re not interested,” she asserts. Confident. Self-assured. “It’s totally okay if it’s not working for you.” 

Heat crawls up the side of Chan’s neck. He runs his sweaty palms over his slacks. “I am so sorry,” he says earnestly. “This sounds so stupid to say, but it is me, it isn’t you.”

“No offense, but I know. You’ve been distracted since we got here. You obviously have something or someone else on your mind.” 

“That easy to read, huh?”

“Open book. I have some pride, though. Let’s pay the bill?”

“I’m sorry.”

Her grin is polite. Understanding. “Don’t be. You’re cute and nice, but I cannot suffer knowing your mind isn’t on me.” 

“Understandable.” 

Chan knows he’s lucky. Anyone else a little less level-headed or less confident might have made him suffer. As it is, Sol does let him suffer a little, sliding the bill over to him with a knowing grin. He likes Sol - not like he likes you, but she’s good people. 

“Promise me one thing?” Sol asks before ducking into her Uber. “It’ll help my pride.”

“Sure.”

“Go spend the rest of the evening with whoever it is and make sure you tell them how you feel. It’ll be worth it, that way.”

Chan grins. “Alright. I promise.”

And he does intend to hold to that promise. Something about tonight is different. He can feel it as he walks quickly to his car, undoing the top button of his shirt as he goes. The air is crisp and there are still a few streaks of orange in the night sky, the sun long gone. 

Chan calls you as he turns his car onto the road, heading toward your apartment on the northside of down. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel, buzzing with nervous and excited energy as the line rings. When you don’t pick up, he ends the call. 

Jeonghan was right - he usually is. Chan could either tell you how he feels or live with the consequences, and he’s decided he cannot live with the consequences. He cannot sit across the table from someone who isn’t you and pretend that he isn’t wondering what you’re doing. He cannot look at the curve of someone else’s mouth and wonder what it would be like if it were yours. 

The date had been spurred by the intense wave of jealousy and inadequacy he felt at Jeonghan’s party when he saw you sitting on the couch with Joshua. He has no idea how else he would have had the confidence to start chatting up someone as commanding as Sol, but he was powered by rum and a wounded heart. 

Stupid. It was stupid, he realizes now. He has been stupid so many times regarding you and for long enough that even Joshua, the most polite of his friends, felt like they could respectfully intercept you, now. 

Well, perhaps you will choose Joshua instead. Chan is fine with that. What you want has always been paramount to him. But if you choose Joshua, it will be with the knowledge that Chan loves you and he always has. 

Steeling himself, he gets out of the car at your apartment complex and looks up at the building. He can see the lights on in your living room, confirming you’re still home and probably watching Buffy. The thought sends a thrill through him and he smiles, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

“You’ve got this, Lee Chan,” he tells himself. “You’ve got this.” 

-

A loud knock on your door startles you. You finish blowing your nose in the issue, trying to suck up the rest of your tears. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater - Chan’s sweater - over your hands, you wipe your face with sweater paws, trying to erase some evidence of your tears before having to face the delivery person. 

Grabbing the bills on the counter, you wonder how many people delivering food have seen people answer the door while crying or immediately after crying. Honestly, they’ve probably seen all types of strange situations, which makes you feel a little bit about answering the door after very clearly sobbing. 

Unlatching the top and flipping the deadbolt, you yank the door open, prepared to not make eye contact to make it a little less awkward for you and the person just trying to hand you pizza and soda, except- 

“Chan?” 

It is Chan standing outside of your door. You blink in surprise, giving him a quick once over. He looks really nice, dressed in slacks and a black button up shirt that is a little too tight across the chest - not that you’re complaining - and the top of the buttons undone to reveal the necklace you gifted him. His dark hair has styling product in it, pushing it out of his face, save for a small rebel strand that hangs over his eyebrow. 

Chan looks… beautiful. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, face swollen from crying, nose a little snotty and looking worse for wear. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Why are you crying?” 

Chan pushes his way into your apartment and you let him, dropping your arm as he passes by. He shuts the door for you, flipping the latch and lock out of habit as he turns to you. He reaches out to grab you by the shoulders but you back up a little, suddenly terrified of his touch. 

He notices. “Why are you crying?” he asks again, dark brows knitted and mouth twisted in a frown. “Talk to me.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” 

“Left early, wasn’t working. What’s going on?” 

You swallow thickly, realizing you’re at a crossroads. Silence stretches between you as he waits for your answer, looking at you with so much concern that you begin to crack. The tension in your throat returns, the telltale sign of tears and you ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.

A torrent of feelings bombard you. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Relief. Hurt again. 

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn.” 

Chan opens and closes his mouth, head cocking to the side a little bit. He looks mystified, trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “I don’t understand.”

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn for something else. For someone else.” 

“I-” 

A series of emotions flit over his face. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you watch each one, trying to catch them as they go. Confusion. Thoughtfulness. Confusion. Realization. You watch as he drinks you in, the tears, the wet stains from crying on the shirt, your words. Slowly, Chan puts the pieces together for the entire picture, and his face becomes so soft that you nearly cringe. 

“Oh, Bambi.” 

“You can date whoever you want, you’re not mine,” you punch out, wiping a tear as it escapes your eye. Feeling small, you back away from him a little, breaking eye contact. “But it hurts when you shove me aside like that. Look, I know we’re friends, but-”

“Bambi,” he says gently. You’re not looking at him, but you know that tone. The pleading. He’s begging you to stop, you think, but if you don’t get this out now you never will. 

“Blood and Popcorn is important to me. You’re important to me. I know you’ve never seen me as more than a friend, but Chan-”

Chan interrupts you again. This time though, it’s by crashing against you. You nearly topple over onto the coffee table with the force of it, but you cling to him, digging your hands into the meat of his biceps to hold yourself to him. His hands press into the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity to you that you can’t pay any attention to, because Chan presses his mouth against yours softly, stealing all of your thoughts.

For a second, your brain goes static. You’re so stunned you don’t do anything but cling to him, vacantly aware that the softness of his lips are on yours. Tentative. Questioning. 

Chan pulls away and your eyes flutter open. He is only an inch away from your face, his minty breath fanning your lips as he begins to apologize, panic on his face. You interrupt him this time, surging forward to crash your lips to his, far less gentle than he had been the first time. 

The box you’ve shoved every feeling for Chan cracks open. You feel everything pour out of it, a steady stream of want as you press into him. He smells like teakwood and mint, hypnotizing you. His mouth is soft and eager, sucking gently against your bottom lip. 

Everything feels lighter, like gravity has lost all meaning. Chan pulls away from your mouth a little, close enough to brush your lips against his in a feather-light kiss, but enough to gaze down at you through half lidded eyes. 

“The date didn’t work out because I kept thinking of you,” he whispers, voice shaking. You feel your breath stop as he speaks, each word sinking in. “It was stupid to ask her out. I was feeling insecure about Joshua asking you out, and it was stupid and petty-”

You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss, letting you lead him, slow and lazy. You feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you eagerly let him in, toes curling as he licks into your mouth. 

“I just want you,” Chan admits, breaking away for a quick breath of air. He presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek. He peppers your face in them as his hands skate up your back, hot even through the material of his sweatshirt. “I have for so long and I’ve been so afraid to tell you.”

“I was afraid too.” 

“I have wasted so much time.” His hands cradle your face, turning you to look at him. 

Chan is so earnest. Raw honestly glitters in his eyes. Deeper, hiding beneath the surface is something a little darker and more intense. Want. Desire. Something that lingers, waiting for you to call it forward. You love him so much that in that moment you almost cry more, feeling overwhelmed with everything you’ve buried down for years. 

“I want to make up for it,” you whisper, stealing a kiss that is more teeth than anything. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Your hands sink to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “I was actually going to tell you tonight, before you canceled.”

“What a stupid man I am.”

You smirk a little. “Yes.” 

“Let me apologize,” he murmurs, voice low. You feel yourself shiver as he pushes you toward your room, connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and needy, so different than the one moments before. You tangle together, stumbling toward your room. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Oh?” 

The crash landing onto your mattress is not graceful. Chan’s full weight falls on top of you and your foreheads smack a little. You yelp in paint and Chan groans, burying his face in your neck. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles to the surface, exploding out of you as your hands press flat on his back, soothing as you hold him to you.

“First step of apologizing,” you wheeze under him. “Give her a concussion.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face further in embarrassment. “I’m a little eager.” 

His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm under him. He seems to notice, opting to press open-mouthed kisses against your throat. You hum, eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. “It’s okay,” you breathe, fingers turning to claws against his back. “It’s cute.”

Chan leans off of you, properly supporting himself with arms on either side of your head, caging you in. His knee slots between your legs, making your stomach leap in excitement as he scoots it up a little, almost pressing against you. 

“You’re cute,” he notes, kisses getting messy as they go up your neck toward your ear. He nips your ear and you let out a sound. His laughter is warm against you and you shiver. “You’re in my clothes.”

“I wear them all the time.”

He groans. “I know. Fuck I know.”

“Is that what does it for you?” You move your hands from his back to his waist, pulling the tucked shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hips twitch forward, excited. He busies his mouth with pressing wet kisses to your jaw. “Me in your clothes?”

“Everything does it for me. I am down horrendous for you.” 

“I really didn’t know.”

He moves a hand to pull at the collar of his sweatshirt, exposing more of your collarbones to him as he kisses. “Everyone else did,” he assures you. You hiss when he bites down and licks over the sting, looking up through dark lashes to gauge your reaction. You nod a little and he grins, doing it again. “Biting. Got it.” 

With trembling fingers, you work the buttons on his shirt. You steal touches as you go, greedy for him. Too long have you hidden what you want in the shadows, too long have you resisted this. Now, you take. 

You brush your fingers against the flexing muscle of his stomach as you pull at the shirt, making him moan deep in his throat. His skin is like fire as you brush your fingers across its warmth, shoving his shirt off. He leans up, letting it fall from his shoulders, rippling to the ground.

The light from your hall glows behind Chan, haloing him in golden light. Your breath catches in your chest as your fingers press to his skin, brush over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach. You feel him twitch beneath your hands but he lets you explore, breathing hard under your reverence. 

Golden boy, so full of fire. It’s all you can think of as you stare up at him, equal parts light and dark in your bedroom. Your hands drop to his belt and you tug him to you, desperate for him. 

“Kiss me,” you beg. 

He does. His mouth is greedy, stealing your breath. A thrill shoots through you when he slides his knee up higher, pressing it between your legs. You breath the kiss to gasp at the barest amount of pressure and Chan grins, watching your reaction through a heavy gaze. 

“Take this off for me,” he asks, voice raspy. He pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt on your frame. “Please.”

You lean up, pressing your mouth to his collarbone in a sweet kiss as you pull the shirt over your head. He helps you, tossing it somewhere else. His hands go to your sides, fingers tracing up your curves as he pushes you back down, claiming your mouth again. 

It feels like you might go crazy. Your bare chest presses against his, the friction turning your blood to liquid fire. His knee is firm between your legs, and when his hand slips to your waist, squeezing you and urging you to roll your hips you can’t help but let out a moan in the shape of his name, helpless.

“Fuck,” he swears, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he helps you move against his thigh. “If you say my name like that again I might bust in my fucking pants.” 

“Chan.” 

“Don’t,” he laughs, biting your shoulder. “I want this so bad.” 

“I want you.”

“I might pass out due to sheer joy.” 

“I have some ideas on how to revive you.” 

He lets out a swear and you laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

“Maybe.” 

Truth is, you think he might be the death of you. You’d die happily in his arms, completely swept up in the feeling of Chan’s tongue as it skates across your skin and up the swell of your breast. When he pauses, you look down at him. He smirks, happy to have your attention before he flicks his tongue lightly over the peak of your nipple. 

You squeeze your legs around his thigh, back bowing off the bed. He lets out a chuckle, repeating the flicking motion as he watches you with dark, satisfied eyes. It drives you insane, the way he watches you with equal parts reverence and determination to find out what makes you squirm. 

Chan is a fast learner. His teeth scrape against your nipple and you whine, thrashing under him as he teases you, pulling gently. The sting feels so good, making you melt into the mattress underneath him. He makes a sound of appreciation, sucking gently and sending you to the moon before trailing his mouth toward your other breast. 

The hand on your hip squeezes you, reminding you why it had been there in the first place. “Keep going.” His breath fans against your skin and you tremble. “I like seeing you worked up.” 

“God,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his leg again. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and as he sucks greedily at your chest you feel like you might rip at the seams. “Who knew you were so… this.” 

You feel his wet grin against you, tongue flicking against your pert nipple. Your head falls to the side as you pant, trying to catch your fucking breath. 

Of course he can reduce you to nothing so easily. No one knows you better than Chan, the two of you like twin flames. Every touch of his tongue, every press of his fingers into your skin, every breath of your name on his lips were made to unravel you because it’s Chan. Your Chan. 

Your Chan who gently pulls the sweatpants from your hips, groaning low and slow when he sees the way your panties stick to your folds. Your Chan who kisses and bites the softness of your thighs, breath ghosting across sensitive flesh, fingers prying your legs apart when they start to twitch shut. 

You’d always been made for him. To think otherwise was folly. You know that now, hand gripping his bones tight as he pulls your hands to the side, the cold air hitting your aching cunt. He lets you squeeze his hand, not caring that your gripping is bone-breaking. 

“Hmm.” He looks up at you and you look down at him. His eyes are blown and he grins, shaking his head a little. “This for me?” You nod, your thoughts banging around the near empty space in your head as you do. “Fuck.” 

And then his tongue presses against you, flat and warm and fuck fuck fuck. You can barely function as Chan drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, avoiding your clit entirely before dragging it back down. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a whine and you nearly lose it there, driven insane by him. 

Chan takes the hand he has linked with yours and rests it on your hip, pressing into you to keep you still. You buck under his mouth and he laughs, unbothered as he looks up at you. The vision of him between your legs makes you dizzy, his hair mused, tongue pressed between your folds, eyes starving. 

Your other hand grips his wrist where his opposite hand holds you open. You cling to him, thighs twitching as he licks you at his leisure. His mouth is a weapon, bringing you to the edge of insane easily. When he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, you fear you might break. 

He can sense it too, setting himself to the task of pushing you over the edge. Chan learns you so quickly - maybe just knows you intuitively - alternating between circling his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking on it gently. 

“I am going to die,” you gasp between ragged breaths. “Your fucking mouth.” 

“Yeah? Feels good?” The buzz of his words drive right into your lower stomach where your orgasmed has so much compacted pressure you know you’re going to snap any moment. “Taste so good. I could eat this pussy all fucking night.” 

“Fuck, Chan. I’m gonna come.” 

He gives a harsh suck to your cunt, the wet sound obscene. “Good.” 

“Like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, panting. He does it again, following your instruction. Your mouth falls open as you nod, unable to string together more than. “Mmm.” 

Chan doubles his effort, the wet sounds of his mouth making it all the harder to keep it together. He keeps you in place as best as he can, but his little hums of pleasure and the combination of his mouth and tongue send your orgasm slamming into you. 

You think you say his name. You have no idea if anything comes out at all. You come hard, thrashing against the bed as he licks you through it, uncaring. Every nerve in your body is on fire, limbs tingling as you float in the momentary high of your peak before you start to come back down, breathing raggedly. 

A cramp throbs in your fingers that are still twisted in Chan’s grip. You loosen your grip a little bit, feeling a little bad about almost snapping his fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind, head still between your legs, tongue gentle and pressed against your twitching entrance. He avoids your clit, letting you catch your breath.

“Chan,” you mumble. He lifts his head, your arousal spread across his mouth. He is a mess, spiking your need for him. You pull at him, wild. “Kiss me.” 

He doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles up to you, letting go of your hand in favor of cradling your face. The kiss is hungry and wet, your heady taste on his mouth as you drink him in. You don’t care, desperate to have him close, pulling him into you. 

One of your hands snakes between your bodies, pressing against the firm outline of his cock through his pants. He lets out a whine, shaking his head as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy. 

“Don’t,” he begs. “I will cum right now.” 

“Oh?” 

“I’m so serious, I almost came untouched.”

“Wow, I really do it for you, huh?” 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His sincerity makes you flush and you peck him on the lips. “I cannot promise I will not come apart after a single stroke.” 

“Don’t care.” You undo his belt, pulling. “Want it. Want you. Please don’t make me wait.” 

He curses. “I can deny you nothing.” He sees your wicked grin and shakes his head, laughing as he pulls away to kick out of his pants. “You like having me wrapped around your finger, huh?” 

“You’re not the only one whipped.” He looks at you, doubtful. “You think I share my fries with anyone? Be so real, Chan. That’s something only you can do.” 

“Got it. French fry privileges, what else can I weaponize?” 

You don’t answer his question, distracted by him as he peels his briefs off and fists his heavy cock. You lick your lips, drinking in the length and thickness of him, the sticky, swollen tip, the way he pumps himself when he kneels on the bed again. 

“Hmm?” he asks, noticing you're distracted. “Everything okay?” 

“You have a nice dick,” you blurt. He pauses, raising his brows, thighs pressed to the back of yours. You fold your lips flat, a little embarrassed by your outburst. “Thank you is the proper response to a compliment.” 

He bursts into laughter and you can’t help but join him, covering your face as it heats up. “Don’t hide from me, wanna see you,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your face. He pins them above your head. “And thank you.” 

Chan runs the head of his cock along your sticky folds, both of you moaning in unison. His hand still pins yours above your head, making you feel open and vulnerable. Your knees squeeze his hips as he ruts against you a little, eyes focused while he uses his other end to guide himself to your entrance. 

“Mmm,” the sound escapes you as he presses in, the ache in your core doubling for a second as he sinks further. “Fuuuck.”

“Okay?”

“Very. Just- slow.”

“You got it, baby.” 

The term of endearment hits you low in the stomach. Between him whispering baby and sinking into the hilt, you don’t know what drives you crazier. The easy answer is just Chan. It’s simply Chan who does this to you, who turns you inside out, who reduces you to a whimpering mess. 

Chan lets go of your hands and brings it to your face. He leans down, supported by the other hand as he kisses you gently, letting you adjust to his girth, pussy spasming around him as you try to keep it together. The kiss is slow and sweet, in contrast to the feral kiss you shared earlier. 

“Fuck,” he breaths against you mouth, laughing. He presses his forehead against yours. “You’re fucking squeezing me. I might die.” 

You do it on purpose this time and he hisses, all of his muscles clenching. “Like that?” 

“Doonnn’t. If I come right now I’ll be so embarrassed.” 

“Why? It’s just me.”

“I don’t want to one-stroke my dream girl, are you serious?” 

“Dream girl, huh?” He pulls out a little before shallow thrusting back in. “Mmm yeah. That feels good.” 

Instead of answering your jest, he kisses you slowly. His strokes are slow but deep, making you sigh. He feels so good, having him like this. Chan presses his body against you, melding the two of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing to keep him as close as possible. 

Your name falls from his lips as you move in sync. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel him shake in your hands. He buries his face in your neck, mouth pressed against your skin as he breathes heavily. You cling to him, as though you could press your love into him, as though you can transfer it through touch. 

Chan slides a hand between the two of you, reaching down to circle your clit gently. You whimper in surprise, squeezing around him and drawing out a low sound. “I’m gonna come soon,” he murmurs. “Do you have another one, baby? Can you try for me?”

You nod. He presses his lips to your temple, driving his hips faster, fingers firm. You feel yourself wind up again, desperate to catch up to Chan, to give him what he wants, to come undone together. You’d do anything for him - anything he asked. You always have.

A glint of metal catches your eye. You see the necklace you gifted him hanging around his neck, tapping his collarbone in time with his movements. The sight of it makes you possessive, your desire for him surging. Gripping the back of his neck, you bring his mouth to yours. You don’t kiss him, but your mouths are pressed together as you mutter, “I love you, you know?” 

He groans, hips stuttering, fingers firm. You’re so close, you feel yourself right on that edge again. “I do know,” he admits, his cock pressing that perfect spot inside of you that has the room spinning. “I love you too, you know?”

You feel him smile against you. The kiss he gives you is so gentle that it sends you over the edge. You hold him tight, coming undone around him as he groans into your mouth, unraveling with you. When he stills, you keep holding him to you, his embrace warm. 

Chan nudges your nose with his. You open your eyes to find his dark ones peering at you. You smile, lifting a hand to trace your fingers along his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks. You note the faint freckles under his eyes, his long lashes, the way one side of his lips lifts before the other when he smiles. 

“Hmm?” he asks.

“You’re so pretty.” You trace your finger to his nose and then flick it. He frowns and pulls away, making you laugh. “There is cum leaking down my leg to my ass.” He thrusts once sharply and you whine. “Chaaaan.”

“Hmmm?”

“Can we shower?” 

“We?”

You grin. “You speak French?” 

“I speak pussy.”

“Ew, get off of me!” you laugh, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughs too, rolling off and pulling out. “Take me to the shower, you loser.” 

“Oui.” 

“Then I want to watch Buffy - oh no.”

“What?” He stands and reaches a hand out to you, helping you up. “Are you alright?”

“I ordered pizza and they probably tried to deliver.” 

“That’s okay.” He pulls you toward the shower and smacks your ass lightly, making you yelp. “Start the shower, I’ll call and get it re-delivered.”

You pause, looking at him, unable to bite back the smile. “I love you.”

“Mhmm. Love you too, Bambi.”

-

“I know I’m good looking,” Chan murmurs, eyes on the screen. “But you’re staring very hard at me.” 

You’re laying against his chest, head tilted up to look at him. You can’t help it, watching the blue light from the TV dance across his face, reflected in the glasses he put on after the shower. His hair is still damp and fluffy, skin glistening from the skincare post-shower. 

“You are good looking.”

“Damn. Only like me for the looks?”

“Well your jokes aren’t very good.” 

He levels you with a glare and you laugh, kissing him quickly before settling down in his arms again. His embrace is warm and he smells like your shampoo. You press yourself into him further and he grunts, letting you. 

“Can we do Blood and Popcorn forever?” you ask, watching him fondly. He smiles and kisses your forehead, flooding you with warmth. “Please?”

“Anything you ask, baby. Blood and Popcorn forever.” 

-

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[monamipencil]

— venus in furs | l.cn

⋆ summary; portraying lee chan as an example for simp from the 19th century. or in which, he's the biggest loser for you.

⋆ pairings; chan x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, fluff, friends (?) with benefits, 19th century! au ⋆ w.c; 2.5k+ ⋆ warnings; chan is the biggest simp, lots of praising and body worship, oral (f. receiving), foot job (m. receiving), service top! chan, also subby! chan, unprotected sex (19th century condoms are horrendous), multiple orgasms, SIMP CHAN ALERT ⋆ a/n; here she is!! i'm always down for writing simp! chan. this is my first time writing a victorian era fic, let me know how you guys like it <3

your heat throbs between your legs as the man before kisses down your knees with a passion that rivals the fire crackling behind him. you card your fingers through his soft brown locks and sigh softly, leaning back on the canapé.

“we should stop this,” Chan freezes at your cold yet tender voice. he looks up at you, distraught brewing in his beautiful eyes.

“my lady, have I done you any wrong? have I offended you?” he says, tone laced with a desperateness that breaks your heart.

but you're in no place to enjoy the worship he bestows upon you. you, a small village girl, and he, the heir to a powerful business. and though you rot your days away, fantasizing about marrying him, you know it is not practical.

you think of the gasps and the sneers that the news of your relationship would elicit from society. this was all a game of cat and mouse. you escapes his pursuits and chases and he revels in it, pushing him to pursue you further.

what started as a playful banter ended up in flames of passion and pining. if not careful, it could burn you and leave you with scars. the world is forgiving enough for a rich man but not a poor woman. any woman at that.

“it is not as simple, dearest.” you sigh, resolve, breaking with every passing second.

Chan has never been as devasted. he couldn't imagine a day without kissing your skin and worshipping you as if you were Venus. which you were, in his eyes.

with all his honesty, Chan never thought when he was with you. any rational thought slips from his mind, and you infect him with your warm, soft skin and deep, lusted eyes. the only thoughts that conjure are how to please and make you happy.

even now, as you hold a stake to his heart and threaten to pierce him, he can only think of pleasuring you.

“can I taste you for the last time, my lady?”

his offer knocks the air out of your lungs, and you try not to embarrass yourself by sucking in a sharp breath. your eyes dart towards the darkness of the room, searching for anything to look at but him.

even with the only light in the room behind him, he looks ethereal with Selene resting in his orbs. with hesitancy in your breath, you nod, unable to deny him.

he doesn't waste any time, slipping his hands under the rich silk covering your body. you undo the robe he bought you, one of the many decorating your wardrobe.

he drags his hands up your skin, pushing the robe off you. his groan echoes through the marble walls of his chamber, and his eyes dart over your naked figure.

the glow from the Renaissance fireplace casts you in a mesmerizing light. these are some of the times he envies the hands of a painter. oh, how he wishes to paint and immortalize you in this world.

your nipples harden under his touch, and your heat glistens with desire. you spread your legs, welcoming to have a taste. he places hot kisses on your thighs, slowly moving closer to your core.

you hold in your breath, anticipating his tongue as his breath wafts against your heat. he presses a kiss to the pearl between your folds before placing his tongue flat against your lips.

the sounds that fill the chambers are blasphemous. you toss your head back on the rich fabric of the canapé. your lips turn red, trying to hold in moans as his tongue works wonders on you.

his nose brushes against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. his tongue prods at your core, sucking and slurping. he hums, drinking your sweet nectar as if it's water. one could only describe him as a starved man with the hungry laps of his tongue and lustful moans from his chest.

moon-shaped prints form on your hips under the pressure of his nails. he looks up at you with a passion that trembles you to your core, and your walls break down. wanton moans echo from the back of your throat, and your hips thrust up to meet his starving mouth.

heat courses through your nerves, and sweat coats your body. pressure builds in your stomach, causing you to gasp and thrash under his hold. he slips in a calloused finger to rub the small nub, filling you with pleasure.

your hands fly up to your breasts to play with your nipples. you roll them between your thumb and forefinger. you lock your ankles behind his back, pushing his head further into your core.

the familiar pressure builds up in your stomach, causing your moans to grow louder. you tug his hair roughly and move your hips against his mouth. with another tug of his hair, you come undone. your moans quiet down, but that doesn't stop Chan from licking you dry, not wasting any of your fluids.

he pulls away from your throbbing heat, and your arousal glistens on his chin and lips.

“what would your loved ones think?” you ask between bated breaths.

“what?” a pout graces his lips, and he tilts his head. big, brown eyes tinted with confusion. you suck in a sharp breath and resist the urge to pepper kisses all over him.

“that you love to have your head between a maiden's legs.” it was his turn to breathe sharply, jaw tensing ever so slightly.

“what would they think of you, knowing you begged to have a taste of her?” you lean towards his kneeled figure, tracing a lone finger on the side of his face.

“that you neglect yourself to please her?”

you whisper against his cheeks, lips brushing against his soft skin. he gasps when you press your foot against his crotch. you fall back on the canapé, continuing your ministrations on his groin.

you trace the outline of his shaft with your toe and apply pressure specifically on the tip. he groans and wraps his fingers around your shin, letting you have your way.

he presses a kiss to your knees as if it's your knees that are bruised from passion. you press your sole against his hard cock, and toe his balls.

chan never complains. he always accepts whatever you have to give him with open arms, whether it's an orgasm or a heartbreak. and it's a pity that you only want to bask him in love, but you know it will destroy you in the end. so you gave him cold eyes and snarky remarks. but who knew that he would rejoice in your indifference?

“my love!” he moans, rutting his hips against your foot. even now, he baffles you. he accepts the bare minimum with no complaints and always gives his best in return.

the pet name never fails to make you flush and throb with yearning. you stop your movements, the ache between your legs growing stronger. he whines at the loss of friction and looks at you with longing.

you swiftly pull the robe on your body and stand up. you grab his collar, pulling him up with you. he groans when you roughly push him down on the mattress.

climbing on the bed, you straddle his hips and slot your lips against his in a hot kiss. he immediately responds, one of his hands wrap around your nape and the other rests on your lower back.

he pushes his tongue past your lips and moans at the warm of your mouth. the robe is again stripped from your body and he flips you over, gaining control over you.

the yellow-orange flames paint his skin a beautiful glow and you find yourself lost in his beauty. chan kisses you like a man depraved from any touch all his life. it's all teeth and tongue and gasps for breath.

he inhales in your scent and kisses your neck in a rushed manner. his hands wander all over your body, trying to find purchase anywhere he can. his teeth bruises your skin and his lips soothe the bruises right after.

and his clothes come undone one by one, till you're both laying naked on the velvet sheets of his bed. his cock grazes the inside of your thigh, a premonition of what's about to unfold.

his lips descend to your nipples, wrapping his lips around it. an undignified moan leaves you as his warm tongue swirls around the sensitive bud. he sucks obediently on the bud, occasionally teething on it. he switches to the other bud, doing the same before continuing his descent.

he leaves a trail of kisses from the valley of your breasts to the mound of your heat. his eyes are closed and eyebrows knitted in concentration as he does so. he stops and looks up at you, the flames in his eyes burn brighter than that of the wood fire.

he offers a small kiss to your clit before mounting you again, placing his hands on either side of your torso. you're rendered speechless when he kisses your forehead, gently.

“I could not care less about what others think.” his breath is even and the assurance in his eyes sends a flurry of emotions coursing through your veins.

he chuckles at your gaped mouth and the break in your character amuses him.

“what did you expect from this fool that can only think of you? hmm?” a gentle yet playful smile plays on his lips. your flushed expression overjoys him.

he shifts, positioning himself before your slick core. the bulbous head of his shaft prods your lips and he gently caresses the soft skin of your waist. he leans down, pressing a series of kisses from your temple to the corner of your lips.

“I burn for you, by my body and heart.”

he kisses you with burning passion and his sentence is punctuated by pushing his cock inside you. the stretch is delicious and you moan at the contact, hips rushing to meet his.

your slick arousal makes it easier for him. he enters you with ease and you moan in unison when he bottoms out. he pulls out before sinking back in. he follows it till he finds a comfortable pace to split you open.

you hook your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips. the heel of your foot digs into his back, and your nails leave red imprints on his skin. your lips has a mind-numbing grip on his cock. he pursues a relentless pace that molds your insides to the shape of his cock.

your walls flutter around him and you cling to him, desperately. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. he thrusts harder, the sound of skins slapping reverberate off the marble walls.

the bed creaks with each movement of his hips. you moan, and throw your head back with a roll to your eyes. the sound of your slick every time your hips meet is sinful.

“kiss me, please. please.” Chan begs you with urgency. as if he'd succumb to death if you didn't oblige.

you rake up your nails up his back and eye his bruised lips, licking your own. a sultry haze swirls in your eyes and he's mesmerized by them. his pace slows down, involuntarily and you cradle his face before smashing your lips to his.

Chan whines and whimpers into your mouth, his hips meeting yours erratically. the orange embers from the fire place illuminates him in a heavenly aura. you dig your heels into his back, forcing him to move harder.

the pressure builds in your stomach again and you feel light-headed. Chan thrusts into you with passion and your slick drips down from your thighs.

“I love you,” you gasp at a certain hard thrust, and his confession kindles a new fire inside of you.

“I admire you,” he punctuates with a soft kiss to your temple and thrusts harder.

“god, you're so beautiful.” he cries, holding you tighter. you do the same, and rest your head on his neck. you kiss his neck, peppering him with red blemishes.

with another hard thrust, you come undone, moaning and whimpering his name. he pulls out, jerking off before he spills warm, white ropes of semen on your stomach and thighs.

he falls on the mattress beside you and pulls your body closer. soft apologies spill from his lips as he peppers kisses on your skin to make up for his roughness.

you catch your breath and melt into his arms. the fire has died down, leaving the room cold and dark but Chan keeps you warm. his hands caress your skin and he looks at you with such admiration that makes him cry.

the heat of the passion died down, leaving room for soft vulnerability. his fingers entwine with yours and he holds you as if you're the most sought after price in all of the world.

“I love you,” you admit and he freezes, mind buffering as he processes your words. he searches your face for any insincerity but he's met with none. you offer him a gentle smile and a warm hug.

he melts into your embrace and you hear a few sniffles. you chuckle, rubbing and patting his back. but he pulls away, leaving you confused.

you see his naked back disappear behind the room divider and he soon emerges with a wet cloth. a hiss falls from your lips when he presses it on your heat, cleaning you up. he apologizes with a sheepish smile and a blush on his face.

a few minutes have passed and you're laying on his muscular chest, waiting for slumber to take you over. he clears his throat and stops his caresses.

“so, what do you think of marriage?”

he maintains a emotionless visage but you can see the fear dancing in his orbs. you try not to chuckle and give your answer with an even voice.

“a burden,”

“a burden?” he parrots, voice laced with hurt.

you hum, feeling your heart thrum wildly beneath your rib cages. if it weren't for the bony cage, your heart would've ripped it's way out, begging for him to touch it.

“but not to me,” you whisper, kissing his skin. you snuggle into his neck, and you can't see his face but feel him hold in his breath.

“not if it's you.”

he switches positions, hovering over you now. he silently asks for assurance and you nod. he breathes finally, and thanks the lord for answering his prayers. you laugh at that and return his embrace.

he peppers kisses all over you and chuckles with you.

“but dare to cross my heart, and your dick won't be attached to your body anymore.” you threaten but he smiles at you, clearly lovesick.

he kisses down your neck, to your breasts and stomach where he rests his head. he hears your heartbeat thump and he smiles.

“my heart would break before yours, if I were ever to do so, my lady.”

you caress his head, slumber rooting in your body.

“my soul is far too intertwined with yours.”

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys @embrace-themagic

@aaniag @nurihihi (send an ask to be added on the taglist!)b

[bahablastplz]

Masterlist

hey! my name is lia

I'm bahablastplz here and BahaBlastPlease! on AO3 this is a SKZ ff blog, MDNI! (chan and felix biased) Oneshots: Bang Chan: Best friend's brother: Chan x reader Your best friend's brother Chan has always been secretly obsessed with you Roommate: Chan x Reader Roommate Chan who wants to help you destress with a massage after a long day... Lee Minho: coming soon...

Seo Changbin: Changbin + Choking Small drabble about asking bf Changbin to choke you for the first time Hwang Hyunjin: Canvas: Hyunjin x Reader A late night with your boyfriend turns into something more as you both try something you had only talked about before Han Jisung: Best Friend: Han x Reader Han is your best friend. Which is great, if you weren't about to go on a date with someone else... Lee Felix: All in: Felix x Reader (Mafia Au Series) *Completed You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew? Lollapalooza Felix Thinking about Felix from Lollapalooza, your boyfriend, and being absolutely horrendously down bad for him after the show. Kim Seungmin: Prove it: Seungmin x Reader, Part 2 Kim Seungmin, your best friend, is so fucking smug all the time. You make the mistake of implying that no man can finger a girl the way they do in porn, and you make the mistake of challenging him when he tells you he can. Seungmin + Lip ring Small drabble about boyfriend Seungmin with his lip ring in that photoshoot and you go feral for him

Yang Jeongin: Undeniably His: Jeongin x Reader Have you ever wondered what sex would be like with your boyfriend the first time after he turns into a vampire with new and overly heightened senses?

OT8: SKZ and their kinks SKZ as types of doms *** Threesome Series: Always there: Hyunjin x Reader x Changbin Your friend makes you feel bad after a night out at the club, but luckily, you’ve always had Hyunjin and Changbin to comfort you. Or maybe more than that, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want? Snap: Minho x Reader x Jisung After your boyfriend decides to punish you by not touching you for two weeks, you take matters into your own hands. There's one way to make him snap, and that is Han Jisung. Make it Hurt: Seungmin x Reader x Jeongin Your best friend is a menace. A stupid, kinky menace that drags you along to a BDSM event with her when your curiosity gets the best of you. What will happen when a strangely attractive man asks you if you want to do your first scene with him and his friend? Cosmic Love: Chan x Reader x Felix A night at the club turns into a lot more than you anticipated, all thanks to a stupid text that you don't even remember sending. The next day, Chan and Felix invite you over for dinner. That's all it is, right?

You can view my nsfw fic recs here!

[soobnny]

winter wind — lee minho.

trope. best friends to lovers. pining. minho is astronomically down bad.

synopsis. a look into lee minho’s realization that maybe he is eager for the affection of someone else featuring the menaces, seungmin and jisung

word count. 1.5k words

warnings. curse words and nothing else i think

note. this idea just suddenly came to me so please enjoy tsundere minho and this silly little fic

Lee Minho sighs out in relief when the pair of you finally make it to Chan’s apartment, immediately being greeted by a warmth in sharp contrast to the weather outside.

The winter wind was unforgiving, as it always is, nipping at Minho’s skin and harshly blowing a deep shade of red on his nose and cheeks. It’s a sight that elicits teasing from his friends, and he tries to shut them up right away before you can hear anything.

You’re still by the doorway, struggling to take off your winter boots. With the information that you’re out of earshot, verified by a quick glance your way, only heightens their teasing.

Heavy on Seungmin. He’s the only little fucker that isn’t easily intimidated by Minho’s infamous glare.

“You’re practically naked, hyung.” Minho wants to wipe the smirk off of his face so bad, but Seungmin isn’t technically wrong, only confirmed further upon double checking his appearance from the huge fucking mirror decorating Chan’s living room.

A sweatshirt and some pants — a pretty fucking terrible choice considering the temperature outside.

“It wasn’t that cold.” He dismisses.

His shivering hands and runny nose deeply contradict with his statement, and Seungmin all but laughs at how persistent Minho is at defending his case. Though, he is having an awful time trying to justify his friend’s clothing choice when he knows Minho usually walks to Chan’s place.

Lee Minho is far smarter than a sweatshirt and some pants.

Seungmin, and the rest of the boys, can only share glances in understanding when you come stumbling into the living room wearing almost all of Minho’s outerwear. His favorite puffer jacket is on you, engulfing your entire figure and that scarf sitting on your neck looks awfully like the one Hyunjin had gifted the boy a few birthdays ago.

So you’re the culprit as to why Minho’s quietly made his way to stand by Chan’s heater to catch a glimpse of his normal temperature.

“Coldcoldcoldcold—“ You pause your conversation with yourself when you see the boys all smiling at you in the living room. As if they know something yoh don’t.

“Hi.” You mumble, trying your best to show a smile as you puff out a breath of winter air. They greet you back right away with accompanied squeals and pinches in the cheeks.

The scarf looks adorable covering half your face, and Seungmin has to physically bite back his laughter when you raise your hand and Minho’s (too big for you) gloves greet them. His friend is horrendously in love with you, and it’s so obvious that Seungmin’s dumbfounded as to how you haven’t realized it yourself.

It doesn’t help that Minho is absolutely useless and won’t confess first — refuses to, even. It’s come to the point where Chan, always the one to tell the boys not to meddle, has practically begged the boy to confess.

The boys probably can’t count with all their hands combined the number of times they’ve told him to confess and he outright avoided the question.

Though, despite being the most straightforward in the group, it seems his feelings for you has made him turn a complete 180 (at least when it comes to the part of his brain reserved for romance). They can’t blame the boy though. It might as well be his first time experiencing the overwhelming tides of feelings and everything that comes with it.

Lee Minho has never been the type that was eager for the affection of someone else either. Among the eight boys, they’d say he was the one who didn’t really have the time for intimacy.

And then you came, in the form of the biggest contradiction to everything Minho had established about love.

Now, the poor boy is falling over, pupils dilated as he silently makes his way to stand by your side to ask you — in the softest tone the boys have ever heard from Minho — “you weren’t too cold from outside?”

There’s a faint smile on his face when you shake his head. And the scene playing in front of everyone would perfectly fit in one of the sitcoms they watch together when they’re bored from how fast Minho’s fond smile changes into a look of feign annoyance when he turns his attention to his other friends in conversation.

Perhaps they just aren’t lucky enough to look behind the scenes, to bear witness to his gentle voice and sweet smile and the way he (without a question) stripped himself off of his outwear as you tread against the white blanketed ground minutes earlier.

He simply shrugs his jacket off and slips it on you, dropping the scarf on your neck and tying it to make sure it’s secured on your neck. Quiet scoldings leave his lips as he does so, eyes focused on taking his own gloves off to put on your hands. If he was too much of a coward to hold your hand, he would have to sacrifice his gloves and bear the cold.

He’d take the harsh winter wind over a call in the morning telling him you’d caught a cold from the winter. Nevermind that there’s a higher chance he get sick instead.

The coming scratchy throat and runny nose are nothing compared to the grateful smile you had directed to him and the way you look clad in his clothes. He almost feels guilty for thinking he could get used to that sight, for hoping to be subjected to your beauty everyday for the rest of his life.

Almost. He was nothing if not a boy who was willing do anything just to see you in his clothes again.

Of course, he hides it well. He’s practiced enough from the months of his dawning realization to the present. So, he keeps the abundance of his teasing remarks high in hopes that they continue to work.

He tells you his hat is too big for you that it makes you look silly or how your height matches that of a 12 year old compared to him which is why his clothes are swallowing you whole. And he tells you that the red on his ears are definitely because of the sandpaper wind and not because of the warmth he felt when you hugged him — it shocks him to the point that he had to push you away and you almost fall on your butt because Lee Minho doesn’t think he can hold back the confession bubbling in his throat if you kept holding him like that.

“You seriously need to tell her.” Jisung is the one who breaks Minho out of his reverie.

The boy can’t just catch a break.

Minho had just settled on the couch, watching you intently as you laugh with Hyunjin at one of Seungmin’s jokes, when Jisung decides to add another tally to the number of times they have failed to get him to confess.

The unconscious grin from watching you laugh turns into a scowl as he directs his attention to Jisung.

“No.” He says pointedly. Han Jisung doesn’t need to clarify for Minho to know what he’s talking about.

“I don’t like her like that.” Minho adds as a weak attempt to get the boy to stop trying to meddle but he knows he isn’t being truthful. And he knows Jisung knows too.

“Sure you don’t.” Jisung snickers, playfully nudging the boy’s side. “We’re not blind, you know. We can see the way you look at her… and the way you’re looking for her right now.”

Minho’s heart thumps at being caught. He simply groans in response, begrudgingly grabbing the brownie in Jisung’s hand and shoving the remains down his mouth.

“She’s in the kitchen, by the way.“

“I didn’t ask.”

“But you were thinking it! You are soooo down bad that it’s actually kind of funny now.” Jisung giggles to himself. “You’d do anything for her, wouldn’t you? So stop being a pussy.”

Minho would’ve lunched his friend to the living room ground if not for your voice calling out his name from Chan’s kitchen. Han Jisung is saved another day from Minho’s wrath.

(He’ll thank you later.)

“Min?” He’s quick to give up, and he closes his eyes in surrender because Han fucking Jisung was right, he would do anything for you, and Minho can already hear the boy telling him he told him so.

Perhaps Lee Minho isn’t as immune to love as he thought he was. There’d have to be a new rebranding towards the part of his brain he had thought was repulsed by the idea of romance. Especially when you had introduced to him the feeling of beating hearts and sweaty hands.

So this is what love is. Now, he knows of the fondness he used to think he could only direct to his cats. He knows of the romance he used to laugh at when watching romantic comedies.

And maybe Lee Minho isn’t so opposed to the idea after all. Especially upon walking in to the kitchen and seeing you smile up at him with a new batch of brownies Felix had saved up for you (that you’d happily share with Minho).

Despite the cold, Lee Minho feels warm, and he looks at you like he does with the little things he loves — a small grin tugging on his lips and his eyes focused on you, diluted and relaxed. Genuine.

Perhaps there is time for intimacy, and perhaps he’d have to put an end to that tally and finally fucking confess.

(If he didn’t, the boys will have owed Seungmin a lot of money).

[hwanchaesong]

"Hardcore"

SugarDaddy!Jongho X F!Reader 

Synopsis: Bodies under the sheets, buddies over the streets

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, smut, cursing, drinking, kind of like forbidden love, university setting, cheating (i do not condone this), friendly banters, oral (m&f rec), unprotected sex, dirty talking, mentions of other sexual activities and hints of public sex, petnames, TXT Beomgyu's special appearance, etc etc mdni!

word count: 7.5k

/ATEEZ Sugar Daddy Oneshots Masterlist/

---------------------------------------------------

"I just saw an insect fly inside your mouth."

You yelped and pursed your lips, turning around in your seat to glare at the boy who spoke behind you, a teasing grin on his face as he proceeded to sit beside you.

"Hello to you too, Beomgyu." you rolled your eyes and continued eating your lunch while your friend laughed at your lack of usual defensiveness whenever he points out your dumb countenance.

He went and picked one of the fries on your plate, your protests falling on deaf ears, "You should give me your food and eat his bulky ass instead." he says, subtly pointing at the man that you were previously gawking at.

Another comment from him that made your blood pressure spike.

"Don't you ever shut up?" you slapped his hand away from your tray, "And no, I will not do that, you dipshit."

Beomgyu raised his hands in defeat, feigned concern gracing his annoyingly charming face, "I was tryna help you."

"What do you want?" you groaned, looking at him and inquiring what his deal is, and like a lightbulb turned on in his head, he finally blurted out a news that you'll surely dread.

"I wanna inform you that we have swimming lessons for PE today." he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows at you, hinting at something which you immediately understood.

This is seriously not happening right now.

Your eyes naturally trailed over to the guy that you're currently interested in, chatting away with the science teacher (Lee Chan) on their table, which conveniently is your physical education teacher.

The previous one was a girl, but she had to take a leave from teaching for a while due to her pregnancy. Then your school just had to hire a hot dude for a substitute.

Choi fucking Jongho.

You weren't interested at first, but he sure as hell caught your attention when one day, he walked in on the gym wearing the tightest short that you had seen a man wear.

His thigh muscles are bulging, threatening to rip the flimsy fabric and you have to mentally kick yourself for staring.

That was the first one.

Strike two happened when a boring discussion about hand grip turned into him breaking an apple in half, a thought running in your mind that made you realize that you're doomed.

"I wish I was that apple."

You want to be that piece of juicy, red fruit just to be what? To be broken in half by his large hands?

Well damn, you're nuts for that one.

It should have been fine, you thinking of that way of your teacher. It's a small fantasy that you could live in for a while and get over it when the time comes.

It should be fine.. but your stupid self just had to say that out loud. Good thing that the whole class was roaring at your teacher's inhumane strength. Too bad, your seatmate slash best friend heard you clearly, and now, he has an item for blackmail against you.

"Whatever," you mumbled, munching on your sandwich, "it's not like we'll be standing close to each other during the whole period."

Beomgyu smiled once more, seeing right through your nonchalant attitude, "You'll never know what will happen."

Yes, you don't know what will happen unless fate or some fucking fairy guided you into some shit. But this-

This! So damn horrendous.

You see, whenever you wish for luck to come to you, it never does, and that's fine! But.. why the fuck do you have to be so unfortunate?

Like, truly miserable as your puppy eyes went down the drain when your sucker of a bestfriend gave you a thumbs up and mouthed the most inappropriate sentence you had ever encountered (you're just dramatic.)

'Go get the apple of your dreams!'

Oh, he's so dead later for putting you into this position. Later because right now, you're currently rummaging through your brain on how to survive the next (possibly the best) events of your life.

"I'm sorry for dragging you here, Ms. L/N." Jongho's voice brought you out of your inner dilemma, making you realize that you're still here, rooted on earth and standing in front of your whole class for the damned swimming classes.

You ain't a good swimmer, but to hell with Beomgyu because the guy pushed you as the offering for the person who wants to try and act as the lead model for the swimming classes.

"No problem, sir." you gave him a tight lipped smile, inhaling through your nose and trying to keep your crazy heart rate steady.

"Thank you." he smiled back, putting his attention back to the class and resuming his discussion about the proper way to dive.

"So here, put your arms in position-"

The instructor began discussing, but you couldn't focus for gods sake.

He's touching your shoulders. His hands are on your back and oh! His fingers guiding your head to tuck your chin. This is absolute heaven and hell at the same time.

Your muscles are all tense from his magnetizing touch, enjoying all of the sensations you're feeling and you are so close to fluttering your eyelids and just let your body drown in sins when suddenly, and annoyingly, you were brought back once more into reality by Jongho.

"Please do the dive for us, Ms. L/N." he gently pushed you, giving you an encouraging smile to which you could only subtly grimace at.

Here goes nothing.

You closed your eyes, held your breath and prayed, wishing for you to look like a mermaid when you enter the water. (Spoiler alert, you looked like a dying fish according to Beomgyu.)

You did your best, as you liked to think, and you really did feel like on top of the earth when Jongho himself went over to you after classes and draped a towel all over you, giving your shoulders a warm squeeze as he complimented you for your performance today.

"Great job out there, make sure to dry yourself completely so you won't get sick, yeah?" then he smiled, walking away from you before he saw your blushing face while stammering out a proper response.

He touched you. Again. Heck, he even commended you.

And he smiled at you. Again. That's like, three times now? Yeah? Right.

Oh man, looks like you're gonna go home with some delulu thoughts.. and with a wet something down there.

---------------------------------------------------

"You like that baby?" his deep voice resonated in your ears, his chest vibrating against your back as he pounded into your behind like you are nothing but his fuck toy.

You moaned at the feeling of his girth inside you, not satisfied with your lack of response, he went and pulled your hair, earning himself a delightful yelp from you.

"I asked you a question, doll."

"Y-yes, sir." you uttered a response, scalp stinging from his hair pulling but the sensation still managed to add to the pleasure.

"That's my good doll." he smirked, his thrusts getting erratic each second. "Since you're so good, I'll let you take all my cum inside, yeah?"

"Oh god-" you moaned out loud, loving the way he talks dirty to you, "Yes, please.. I-I want it all." you begged, tears already pooling at the corner of your eyes.

"Fuck-! I'm coming!"

"Jong-"

Three knocks and a yelling Beomgyu was all it took for your dream to be taken away. Right at the fucking climax.

"C'mon Y/N! Open up, stop sleeping all the time!"

"Ugh!" you groaned, jolting up with anger and shouting right back at the boy in front of your bedroom door.

"Why the fuck are you here?!"

Beomgyu snickers and invites himself into your sanctuary as soon as you opened your door, sitting on your spotless pink carpet and bringing some snacks and a suspicious piece of paper.

You raised an eyebrow, still slightly irritated that your wet dream was disrupted but curious at what storm your friend is brewing.

"Look." he says, showing you a poster along with tickets, "A guy named Yeonjun gave me this!"

"What the fuck is that and who the hell is Yeonjun?"

"A nice senior that I met in the frat!" he happily answered your questions despite the rude tone that you used. "Let's go and check this bar, I heard that they serve a lot of good shit."

"No thanks." you sassily replied, walking over your bed and sitting down on the soft sheets.

He rolled his eyes at your snappy attitude, plopping down on your bed as well, "Don't be such a killjoy!" he whined, "Besides, don't you want to find a hot guy and get laid? I know you haven't gotten a good fuck for like... I don't know? Months?"

You paused, contemplating the offer because yes.

It has been a while since you went out and had some fun. Maybe, you can blame it on that fact, that it was the reason why you're so frustrated.

Why you think and dream about him a lot.

Maybe, you do deserve a little treat after all the hard work that you're exerting for college.

"You actually made sense," you stood up and pat Beomgyu's fluffy hair, "that's nice."

He pouts and swats your hand away, "So, you in?" he excitedly asked.

"Yeah." you let out a little laugh at his childish antics when you finally agreed, pumping his fist in the air with a 'whoosh' coming out of his mouth, "It's a good way to let out some steam."

That is how you found yourself in your skimpiest outfit and hottest hair and make-up you could manage, dancing in some club named Hybe.

The place is classy to be honest. Glaring lights of different spectrum that shines through the mosaic tiles, blaring music from the most popular djs out there, and the fucking fancy drinks that they serve.

Yeah, you could let out some steam, like Beomgyu said.

But how do you do that exactly?

You sighed and excused yourself from the man that you're grinding with on the dance floor, giving some lame excuse of running out of social battery, to which he returned with a genuine smile and telling you to rest.

'What a good boy.' you think, returning to your booth and sitting down with a sigh before gulping down a glass of cocktail, eyes scanning the area with dismay.

Maybe this is a mistake, you couldn't get him out of your head and no matter how many handsome men come your way, they do not turn you on like how he does.

You groaned, burying your face on your hand when an eerily familiar voice resonated from behind you.

"Now, why is a gorgeous lady like you is alone?"

You turned around, eyes blinking slowly like a sleepy cat because surely, this is a dream. Right? Because how come that the Choi Jongho himself, is standing in front of you in all of his sexy glory.

"Oh." you both said at the same time, an awkward silence ensued that he broke himself.

"I.. uh, okay I'm sorry I didn't know."

A hobbling reason on his part but it is true.

In his defense, Jongho doesn't have any idea that it was you, he couldn't see your face directly because of the dim lighting, but he sure as hell can see your sexy as fuck figure that has been dancing away in the club for a few hours now.

He was so, so enamored that he thought, 'Hey, maybe I should go talk to her and get some good fuck tonight.' when he saw you walk back to your table.

He did not expect a familiar face to pop up, nonetheless, his student.

A student that he had been crushing on ever since he saw the way your boobs jiggle during a volleyball class. Or the way your ass looks great when doing the squats. Or your hot skin on his palms during the swimming lessons.

Still, he knows it's wrong for him to make a move on you, his moral compass going strong and the rational part of him kicks him in the shin when he sees your surprised face at his attempt at flirting.

He was about to go back after apologizing, really, but you just had to cripple his remaining sanity.

"Wait!" you unconsciously called out for him when he was about to leave, clutching the cuff of his suit and you paused, closing your eyes and praying to the gods out there to split open the floor right now and swallow you whole.

What the fuck are you doing? Damn, what will he think of you now?

Some kind of desperate slut?

"Yes?" he turned back around, an inquiring look on his face that made you think that maybe, just maybe, you could bag him, even just for tonight.

Yeah, you are a desperate slut. Only for him, though.

"You could.. stay?" you mumbled, wincing at how timid you sounded.

"What? Didn't quite catch that." he leaned down to better hear you, allowing you to inhale his manly, musky scent.

"I, uh.. uhm. I said, you could stay." you repeated, voice louder than before but for some reason, he still couldn't hear it.

"C'mon princess, speak up. Can't hear what you're tryna say."

What a menace. He did hear you perfectly and clearly, he just wants you to say it again. With more clarity, with more confidence. He kind of wants you to beg.

"Stay." you finally blurted out, finding some conviction when he called you princess, because who on earth would do that? It kind of gave you the impression that he is testing the waters with you, like an interim check whether he could spend the remaining time of his night with you.

"Please." you added, releasing his cuff with a sigh that you didn't know you were holding.

He smirked, breaking the nonchalant countenance and taking a seat beside you, his arm automatically flying on your shoulders, pulling you close to him.

"That wasn't so hard now, is it?" he whispered against your ear, his hot breath in contrast with the cold atmosphere in the club tickled you just enough to leave goosebumps on your skin. Before you could retort, he removed his arm, placing it on the table and waving a waiter to serve more alcohol.

You tried to hide your disappointment at the loss of contact, humming of approval when he asked you if you wanted to drink more.

Soon, you find yourself in a buzzing state, hazy mind, lips numb and swollen from the constant biting of the man you're with.

"God, you don't know how long I've been wanting to do this." he panted against your mouth, his rough hand squeezing your breasts through your thin dress.

"Jongho." you whined, lifting your back from the mattress, "Tell me then, how long?" you taunted, brushing your nose with his.

"Ever since I saw you." he admitted, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, trailing down your neck and attacking your sweet spot once he heard you moan from the surprise contact.

Your hands flew to his hair, "Tell me more."

Jongho groaned, loving how submissive yet demanding you are.

"I wanted to kiss you." he punctuated it with a peck, "Then I wanted to touch you." he continued, deft fingers trailing down your body until he reached your bottom, cupping your heat in his large hand, "Then I wanted to take you as mine. Claim you," his hand went inside your dress, pinching your inner thigh that made you squeak, "fuck you until you're crying."

If there is one thing that you're wishing for right now is that for time to stop. You don't want this night to end.

The man that you're pining since the start of the semester is basically confessing his desire for you, and you sure as hell is eating all that up. You didn't have to know whether his words were true or not, because you'll stupidly believe him. It shows how much you like him.

No need to worry though, everything that he's saying is the realest, deepest feelings and thoughts of you.

Jongho had already noticed you from the start. The way you talk politely, the hidden sass that only shows when you're bickering with your friends, your effort and dedication in your chosen course (which he really admires). And of course, the way you look at him like you wanted him to break you.

He saw it all, he felt it all.

And he loved it.

He loved the attention from you.

Who wouldn't? Anyone would be lucky to have you. The popular, intelligent, kind and pretty girl of the university.

But you didn't have to know such details on why he's so charmed by you. What's important is that you are on his bed, and that he's about to rock your world.

"Do it." you said with finality, gripping his hair to stare right into his eyes, "Do whatever you want to me."

That was all it took for him to go feral, ripping your dress (no bra, to his delight) and delving right into your soft chest. Your protests fell on deaf ears, because you really liked that dress, but then you couldn't complain anymore when he reassured you that he'll just buy you a new, better one.

You moan when he bites between the valley of your breast, groping your right mound while he busied his mouth with sucking on your nipple.

You are hyper aware of his electrifying touch. You feel everything. From his tongue flicking on your bud, the tugging of his fingers on your nipple, and the slithering hand down your navel that reached your panties.

"What's this?" he mumbles against your boobs, circling his fingers on the wet patch of the flimsy fabric, "Didn't take you for a lace girl." he snickers, making you slap his shoulders.

"Shut up." you whine, then you realize that he's still completely clothed. "Shut up and remove this." you ordered,  pulling the silk tie of his expensive looking suit.

"Aren't you a feisty one?" he raised an eyebrow, lifting himself from you when he felt like he's left enough marks on your chest area.

"I like that attitude," he says, removing the tie from his neck, "but I don't tolerate it, especially if my doll knows that she's not the one in charge here, yes?"

You gasped when he clutched your tiny wrists using only one hand, binding your hands together using the tie and connecting it to the bed post, rendering you immovable.

"Wha-!" you tried protesting, but he shushed you once more by pushing your panties inside your mouth.

Since when did he remove your underwear?

"Chin up, princess. Watch the show." he speaks in a deep, dark voice. Basically imploring you to glue your eyes on him as he started stripping himself.

He unbuttons his crisp, dress shirt sensually, sliding the clothing to his shoulders and my god, were you blown away.

You do know that he's sculpted, given that his muscles are almost always bulging from his outfits back at school, but to see him in this natural state of bareness registered something in you... he is ripped as fuck.

"Hngg." you twisted around the bed, trying to free yourself from the restraints to no avail. You wanted to touch him, make contact with his skin because watching is not enough. You need to feel him on your palm.

"What," he chuckles, tossing his shirt somewhere in the room and continues his mini strip show, "wanna have a taste of this?" he jeered, reaching for his belt and unfastening it too slowly for your liking.

You nodded your head fervently, batting your eyelashes at him in an attempt to make him give in and let you do as you please. He shook his head, removing his pants and undergarments in one go before proceeding to grab your jaw, not giving you a second to fully admire his naked body.. or his ginormous length.

"I did remember telling you to be patient, princess." he snickers at your fallen expression when you realize that you wouldn't be able to touch him as soon as possible, "Let's make a deal, yeah?"

Your eyes lightened up with hope, and in his point of view, you're so damn adorable despite the humiliating position that you're in.

"If you don't cum within five minutes of me eating you out," he finally utters, slotting himself in between your legs and dipping his fingers into your core, taking a swift sniff of how good you smell, "then you'll be free."

You gulped, not having enough conviction that you won't cum in five minutes because it's been too long. It's been a while since a man touched you, and you're afraid that one swipe of his tongue will immediately edge you. But for fucks sake, you have to try in order to get what you want.

You nodded again, making eye contact with him with determination, a proud smile on his face before going down town on you without much of a warning. Giving your sopping core a long lick, easily finding your bundle of nerves and sucking on it.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to cum. You tell yourself not to give in, even if his tongue traces all the shapes in your clit, even if his wet appendage goes deep into your cunt, even if the slurping noises are making you crazy.

"Ah fuck this." he cursed, inserting two of his fingers inside and curling them mercilessly, hitting all the right spots.

"Go ahead and cum, princess. Lemme taste you." he mumbles against your clit, sending nice vibrations that add to the pleasure, "Don't worry, I'll remove the tie later." he convinces you, not wanting to do the deal anymore because you're too irresistible. Giving oral like a madman is not sufficient, he needed to feel your insides as well, to give him an idea on how tight you are.

"Cum on my tongue, baby."

You writhed around the mattress, gushing around his tongue and fingers. Complaining when he didn't stop swiping his tongue on your pussy, the overstimulation getting to you.

"Sorry, sorry. Here let me." he laughs, showing his gummy smile that doesn't match the situation but still, the lights outside the house that shines through the window were adequate to let you see his amazing visuals.

He untied your wrists and got rid of the gag, giving you an apologetic smile as he rubs your red skin, probably from the harsh pulling that you did. "Got carried away." he explains, making you giggle at his sudden cute attitude, leaning up and giving him a quick peck.

"It's okay." you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down on you, "Besides, we have better things to do." pushing the innuendo behind your sentence by lifting your hips, grinding against his hardness.

He hissed at the sensation, "You really do know how to rile me up." he smirks, finally positioning himself, sliding his cock in between your folds to gather some slick, "Hope you don't regret this in the morning."

You rolled your eyes, "Oh, I won- Ah!" you wailed when he went inside you in one go, immediately thrusting in an animalistic pace without letting you adjust first.

He hits the right spot when he shifts his hips a bit, the tip of his cock brushing on your g-spot so perfectly, "Oh god! Right there! Jong-" he cuts you off again, sliding his hand on your neck and choking you, shaking his head in disappointment.

"That's not how you should call me, Ms. L/N." he whispers in your ear in a condescending tone, and in a state of lust with the pressure of his hand on your neck, everything that is happening around you seems to arouse you more.

"S-sir," you panted, your nails scratching his back when he slowed down his pace, waiting for you to finish your sentence, "please don't slow down. Fuck me harder."

Jongho took a deep breath, how could he even resist you and say no when you're this pretty under him?

"That's my good girl." he grunts, pistoning inside you and holding your hips in a bruising grip, your angelic moans motivates him to do more.

The embarrassing loud squelches and skin slapping from where the both of you are connected echoed through your ears, stupefying you even more from the lewdness that surrounds the four corners of the room. Each thrust of his hits the perfect spot inside you, and your sensitivity makes you feel even the prominent vein on his thick length.

You chanted his name, Sir Jongho, as he liked to be called, signalling him that you're close, as if you, clenching around his cock still isn't enough to give him the sign.

"Close?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, sweat falling from his forehead down to your cheeks, further pounding into you with much force if that's even possible when you gave him the green light, not having the proper ability to speak.

"Go ahead, baby. Cum." he egged you on, leaning down to suck on your neck while his hand went to your clit and rubbed it harshly, pushing his cock back and forth with vigor, making it his mission to turn you into a mess.

"God, Jongho!" you howled, cupping his face and kissing him deeply, and that's what made you cum, the intimacy of the contact. Your lips on his in a chaotic, open mouthed kiss where your teeth clashed and tongued meshed around with each other.

He groaned against your mouth, releasing his seeds in your gummy walls when he felt your insides wrap around him tightly. As much as he wanted to prolong the intercourse, the pleasure was too much to handle.

That's how good you felt, he guesses.

A few minutes of silence, with only your heavy breathings can be heard passed, coming down from your highs. You felt his weight on you, but you were too spent to care. His warmth lulls you into dreamland, then everything is black.

---------------------------------------------------

You stirred around the bed, feeling icky and sore, and when you went to hug what you assumed was a pillow, you were mortified.

Since when did your pillow, an inanimate object, have the capacity to hug you back?

You slowly open your eyes, seeing a different ceiling, and surely this is not the scent that you are accustomed to.

Again, since when did your room smelled like wood and spices? You recalled it, crystal clear, that cherry blossoms and vanilla are your go to scents.

Then you hear someone's breathing, the mortifying reality draws near when you decided to turn your head from the figure beside you.

Shit.

You bit your lip, panicking but you ultimately opted to be rational for once in your life, trying to calm yourself and rethink what the heck happened last night.

You remember begging him to stay with you at the booth, drinking shot after shot until you were wasted out of your mind.

"Alright, I think we need to get you home." Jongho chuckles, stopping you from downing the cocktail. Sensing that you had enough alcohol for the night.

"Noo!" you whined, reaching for the glass in his hand, "And I don't wanna go home yet!" you cried out, clinging into his arm.

Who knew you were this childish when you're drunk, he ain't complaining though, Jongho thinks that you're like a lovely, sweet piece of candy in this state.

"Come on, princess." dropping a wad of cash on the table (payment and tip) and helping you get up.

It was bearable for the most part, you were like a feather in his arms, light and airy, but the hardest part of the short journey to his car was your incessant mewling and your very obvious actions of seducing him.

"Oh wow!" you exclaimed, drunkenly looking around his luxurious vehicle, "You're fucking rich." you tittered at the newfound information, touching the leather covering of the seat, "You're hot, handsome, sexy, and rich? What a catch."

Jongho's posture stiffened, avoiding your sultry gaze by taking a deep breath to calm his libido down, inserting his keys and getting ready to drive.

"Thanks." he says without much emotion, "Now tell me your address so you can rest."

"Ugh." you rolled your eyes, leaning over to his side and you didn't miss the way he ogled at your exposed legs and cleavage, "I told you I don't wanna go home yet."

"Then what do you want to do?" he sighs, running a hand through his hair (which you find really attractive), exasperated at the situation. Seriously, you're making this difficult for him.

You gripped his face and forced him to look at you, his eyes widening at your daring initiative to make a move on him. His adam apple moved when he took a gulp, and that made you fancy him more.

"I want to kiss you," you admitted, hands moving down to his chest, his eyes wandering on your lips, "then I want you to fuck me like you mean it."

There goes his sanity, crashing his mouth on top of yours in a heated lip lock, lifting you up easily and placing you on his lap. Despite the cramped space, you two managed to fit, and it only made the scene hotter.

"Let's continue this at my place, yeah?" he asked, moving away from you and returning to his previous position in the driver's seat.

You were in Choi Jongho's car. You made out with him. He took you to his place. You fucked each other... and now you wanted to slap yourself because of your stupidity. How could you even let yourself make a mistake, goodness, you really need to control your horny ass.

Then you made up your mind, yep. You'll escape then act like nothing happened. Yeah, that's a great idea! Genius.

You moved like a turtle, attempting to wiggle away but you were stopped by his strong arms, pulling you flush on his chest.

"Finally you're awake." his gruff voice in the morning stirred something inside you and for the second time, you had to remind yourself to not let your hormones dictate your actions.

"I'm sorry!" you don't know what you're apologizing for, but you do know that whatever you did and said last night was inappropriate, given that he was the one who talked to you first, it was you who persuaded him to have sex with you.

"I'll leave for now then I will pay for the drinks last n-" he puts a finger on your lips, shushing you as he puts a strand of your stray hair behind your ear.

"Don't worry, I'll pay for your drinks at the bar from now on. I'll even let you do your fantasies on me. Just do me a favor angel," you stared into his orbs, sleepy yet warm, "keep this between us."

And that is how you find yourself every weekend on the bar (that he, surprisingly, owns), wearing the dresses he bought you, drinking free alcoholic beverages and at the end of it all, your limbs are entangled with his. Passionate 'lovemaking' as he liked to call it.

You love the thrill of this forbidden romance.

Sneaking kisses behind closed doors, hugging each other goodbye whenever he insists to drives you home, sucking him under the table while he did his best to talk to a student that needs his help, then fucking you on the said table, right on top of the papers he's checking.

He made you happy, and you know you make him happy as well, you can see it in his eyes. But it was more evident on you, as Beomgyu pointed out how 'bright' you are that the shift kind of scares him.

You only brushed it off with a smile, telling him that you're only taking care of yourself. Even if you badly want to tell him the whole story, you suppressed it, keeping your promise with Jongho intact as to not ruin both of your reputations. Besides, only a few months left before your original PE teacher returns, then you can let loose. Announce the blossoming relationship with Jongho without any care in the world.

---------------------------------------------------

"No."

One word. It only took him one word to stain your proposal and plant a seed of doubt in your brain.

"What?" you scoffed, crossing your arms in disbelief, "What do you mean no? Are you ashamed of me?" you accused, hurt at his blatant rejection at the idea of becoming official after his contract in your university.

"No, of course not baby, listen to me," he cupped your face gently, "I'm sorry, we'll talk about this tomorrow, alright? I'm kind of stressed right now because of all the work." he smiles, giving the crown of your head a peck.

You sighed and held his hands that are still on your face, rubbing your thumb on his skin, "Okay." you resigned, trusting him with all your heart.

Come next day and everything shattered. Your trust, your heart, your world.. cluttered on his palms.

You were casually humming a tune you've heard on spotify, a pep in your steps as you walked leisurely to Jongho's office, ready to continue the conversation with him from yesterday.

Then you were frozen in your position as you heard the topic from the principal's office by accident. You weren't a nosy person, but hearing his name sparked a troubling curiosity within you.

"Mr. Choi, we really appreciate you. I was even thinking of making you a regular here." your principal speaks, but his next words brought a ringing sound in your ears, messing with you, mentally and emotionally.

"Too bad, you're about to be married soon, and abroad too!"

You heard Jongho chuckle, but that's not all, a honeyed voice laughed as well. A woman's voice.

You couldn't help but take a peek inside, and there he was, the man that you have feelings for, with a girl beside him.

A prettier, sexier, older girl. Someone who looks like she got her shit together.

Someone who is better than you in all aspects.

"Actually, me and my fiancé thought of getting married here," the lady placed her hand on Jongho's chest, leaning her head on his left shoulder, "but he insisted on getting married in Paris! Isn't he a romantic one?"

She giggled like a goddamned witch (that's all in your head because right now, you're full of hatred), and then, at that moment, the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Why he wanted to keep your relationship a secret.

Why wasn't he keen on taking the title as your boyfriend.

Because you are not the main, not the original, you are the other girl.

The other girl that everyone despised. The one that you read on tiktok and stories, the home wrecker.

On this occasion, you kind of also loathed yourself. Only there to make him satisfied, to keep him company. You're convenient, but right now, you're thrown out of the picture because his one and only is here.

You've had enough of this bullshit.

You were about to turn around, ready to drown yourself in sadness and self-pity, but then you made eye contact with him. His eyes widened, dread obvious in his features. Despite the tears making your eyes glassy, you willed yourself to stand up against his betrayal, giving him a hard glare as if telling him, 'I hope you're happy, you traitor, don't show yourself in front of me ever again.'

Then you walked away, your back straightened and with your chin up. Certainly, you are not about to ruin yourself, not like this.

On the other hand, Jongho was quick to excuse himself from the meeting, giving some lame excuse and running after you, seeing you walking down an empty hallway.

'Perfect.' he thought, speeding towards your direction, catching you by your wrist and turning you around so suddenly that it gave you a whiplash. Upon meeting his worried face, you immediately pushed him away, the anger in your face that once held love for him squeezed at his heart.

"Y/N, let me explain. I-"

"Shut the fuck up." you rudely cut him off, balling your fist on your sides to prevent yourself from doing something that you'll regret.

"Please, give me a chance to explain." he pleads, but the more you hear his voice, the more it makes you feel worse.

Honestly, you just want to go home and cry. Pathetic, definitely, but you couldn't care less, you had to get these negative feelings out of your system.

"Didn't you hear me?" your voice shakes, but you continue regardless, you are about to give him a piece of your mind.

"I said shut up. It's not worth it, you're not worth it."

A look of hurt flashed on his visage and it somehow sparked something in your pride because that's good, you want your words to pierce through him like a knife. You want to give him pain as well.

"Don't say that, Y/N, I-" he starts bargaining again, to which you blocked again with a sarcastic laugh.

"Oh, I'll say what I want to say. Don't tell me what to do, Sir Jongho." you specifically emphasized the petname that you would usually use inside the bedroom to give him  a sense of what he had done.

"Will you please just let me say something?!" he whisper yelled, frustrated at your attitude.

You raised an eyebrow, the audacity of this man to act like a hotshot when he's the one in the wrong here.

"The floor's all yours then. Talk." you challenged him, only for him to turn silent, gaping like a fish in front of you because really, he went here without any prior thoughts.

"What are you waiting for?!" you yelled, raising your hands in defeat, worn out from this dumb confrontation.

What is he even gonna say though?

That he's sorry you caught him? He's sorry for hurting you and all that shit.

He knew what he was doing, he's not a kid, but he went through it all for the sake of adventure. You are a territory he trespassed, and he's about to pay the consequences.

"I really did like you. This," he pointed between you and him, "it's real."

He hung his head low, not having it in him to face you.

Real your ass.

"You like me?" you asked, hating the way he earnestly nodded his head, "If you really did like me, then you wouldn't make me do this." you stepped towards his figure, the eerily calm tone you're using doesn't sit well with him.

"If you like me, then you would've been honest with me." you jarringly shoved him.

"If you like me, then you should have not given me any hope that I have a chance with you."

Another shove.

"If you like me, then why the fuck do you have to put me in this position?!" you sobbed, giving him a last miserable shove. He accepted all of it, unmoving on his spot on the floor, watching you break down.

"You like me... but you love her. Right?"

"I do."

Well, that was a slap on your face. Of course he loves her, enough to break your heart. Enough to not choose you.

"Y/N, I'm truly sorry."

"No, you're not." you looked at him one last time, "Being guilty doesn't mean that you're sorry."

Then you're gone, leaving him in the hallway while he's having an internal battle with himself.

---------------------------------------------------

"Dude , what the fuck?" Beomgyu scrunches his nose, watching you mope around for the past few weeks. He picked up a used shirt from your floor, grimacing when something sticky adhered on his fingers.

"Go away." your muffled voice sounded from under your sheets, making him sigh in defeat and sitting down on your bed. He sets his hand on your foot that was sticking out of your blanket, giving it a tender massage.

"You know, you need to help yourself in order to move on." his soothing tone smoothens the scowl on your features, lifting your blanket from your body and facing your bestfriend.

"I know that." you mumbled sadly, "I know that.. but it's easier said than done."

After your 'break-up' with Jongho, you two went your separate ways.

You did all that you can to avoid him, the PE classes were hell and most of the time, you pretended to be sick so you won't have to attend the lessons and see his face. His presence alone made you want to throw up.

When he's gone for good, there was a moment of desperation within you, wishing that he'll call you. Hoping that maybe, he'll realize that you're the one for him. Praying that he'll choose you instead, that he'll come back to you, begging for one more chance.

All of those went down the drain when you stalked his social media, photos and videos of his extravagant wedding all over the feed, and you couldn't help but cry.

That girl in the gorgeous, white dress could've been you. It should've been you, the one he's saying his vows to, promising to protect with all his might. It would've been you, the one he will love until he's grey and old.

Although you know, right from the start, it was never you.

The denial stage was better than the acceptance stage, this shit is by far the worst you have ever gone through.

Like they all say, facts do really hurt.

You're trying your best to heal, but the insecurities are gnawing at you. Unanswered questions kept you up all night, the dark bags under your eyes are the tell tale sign of it.

You blinked when Beomgyu sighs again, bringing you out of your stupor.

"Come on up." he says, pulling you up suddenly, throwing a hoodie on your face, "Let's go somewhere."

You groaned, "No." you muttered under your breath, proceeding to lie back on the comfort of your bed to no avail, since Beomgyu, being the stronger one, dragged you down with him until you were out of the house.

"My god!" you protested, pulling away from him with a half-hearted angry glare, "You can't just drag me like that!"

"I can and I will!" he yelled back, glaring at you with the same amount of heat that you're radiating.

"And why is that?" you raised your eyebrows, putting your arms on your hips like a mom demanding an explanation.

“Because I care.” he whispers, and you completely hear it. You did think that your ears are playing some kind of game, but then Beomgyu repeated the sentence with more conviction. 

“Beomgyu.. I, what do you mean by that?” 

“You don’t need to think too much about it.” he started to voice out his thoughts, which was a bombshell since your friend, in spite of his stubbornness and motor mouth, rarely displays what he really feels, “I’m just tired of seeing you like this, you know?” he looks into your eyes, waiting if you’ll retort or something, but when he sees that you’re waiting for him to finish, he goes ahead and takes the opportunity to speak.

“It’s not like you to mope around because of some guy who can’t treat you right. I know, it’s difficult but I can’t stand seeing you so hopeless.. I, this is not the Y/N that I know and love.” 

Your breathing hitched, ‘Is he?’ 

Beomgyu took your hand in his, the familiar coziness of his skin against yours somehow gave you a sense of solace, a feeling that he always brought with him whenever he’s with you.

“You’re not alone, alright? So let’s go get some ice cream, my treat.” he smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but beam back, pouncing at him so suddenly that he almost stumbled back. Thankfully, his balance and core are great, so no one was hurt at the collision.

“Thank you.” you mumbled, giving some space and intertwining your fingers with his, “I appreciate this so much.”

His eyes softened, the bright yet soft orange hue of the sunset cascades on his side profile, further highlighting his charms (how on earth are you only noticing this now is another mystery for you to solve.) 

“I appreciate you too,” his eyes crinkled, a mischievous glint on his brown orbs as he disconnected your hands and ran away from you, “only after you shower though.” he shouts, laughing like a maniac.

You were left dumbfounded, of course he’ll find a way to ruin such a sweet moment. 

Still, it wouldn’t be as fun as he didn’t. So you chased after him, ready to punch him in the gut for the playful remark he threw at you. 

“Beomgyu you dick! Come back here!”

---------------------------------------------------

taglist:

@hyuckilstan @gwenchwana @minkiflwr @bloomingsann @btsreader12 @hwadump @songmingisthighs @isaluvvs @minkysmilk @jngwyz @fairygirl18 @jcngh0-hq @justyoonsworld @v-lvs-yungi

a/n: last one down! tysm for all the people who read and supported this set of fics (even if i slowed down in the middle) i really, really appreciate you all!! thank you for all the feedbacks and comments!! 💜💜

NEXT UP! ATEEZ MINISODE SERIES!

[mykoreanlove]

oopsie daisy 🌼

The annoying sound of Felix’ alarm was disturbing the silence of the late afternoon. With eyes closed he searched for his phone and shut it off. A deep groan escaped his lips, followed by a sharp pain in his head.

“Why did I drink that much”, he scolded himself.

Yesterday’s party got out of hand quickly – what should have been an intimate gathering with some close friends at Changbin’s turned into a massive bash. Felix tried to remember last night’s events, but his mind went blank for the most part. Anxiety formed in his stomach as he did not like to feel helpless, out of control.

He heard a knock on his door and flinched in pain.

“Can I come in?”

It was Chan.

“Yeah, sure”, Felix answered in a deep, raspy voice.  

His friend opened the door with a big glass of water and headache pills in hand, already knowing that Felix would need them.

“Here”, he gave them to his younger friend.

Felix had trouble sitting up as his head felt dizzy and his stomach seemed nauseous. He gathered his remaining strength and gulped down the water, hoping to feel better quickly.

“Do you have any memories of last night?”, Chan asked cautiously.

Instantly, the anxiety in his stomach grew bigger. Felix shook his head, too nervous to ask what he had done.

“Do you wanna know?”, Chan offered politely.

Felix took a deep sigh, trying to calm his nerves. “I don’t know if I want to?”

“Oh, trust me. You do want to know.”, Chan chuckled amused.

“Okay”, Felix sighed in defeat and curled into a ball while hugging his plushie. “Tell me what happened last night.”

“…yeah, and then you vanished into the kitchen and played UNO for hours. Changbin told me that you downed a shot each time you lost, so apparently you drank a lot. And after that you walked around whispering “Wakey wakey” into the girls’ ears, going as low as you can. I saw you run around laughing manically and trying to escape many girls that night. Oh, and after your little striptease dance break you spilled your drink all over your chest and ran into the bathroom.”, Chan re-collected.

Felix was embarrassed but so far, he didn’t do anything horrendous.

“And after that you came running to me, all nervous and agitated and you muttered something about kissing y/n.”

Felix shot up alarmed, instantly regretting it though as his head was still pounding heavily.

“I did what??”

“Yeah”, Chan confirmed in a reserved manner.

“I kissed y/n? Lee Know’s girl y/n???”

Panic arose in his body as he could not believe it.

Did I really do that? Why? What was I thinking?

“Don’t you remember anything at all?”

Felix shook his head ashamed.

“No, not a single thing.”

Chan sighed. “Well, do you like her?”

Felix’ eyes widened in surprise.

Like her? Do I like y/n? Is this what this is?

“I mean I like her as a friend. As a person. But she is Lee Know’s girlfriend, and I never saw her another way. Shit, Chan, I fucked up. How do I tell him?”

Felix already envisioned the worst. It was bad enough that he had kissed his friend’s girlfriend, but it was even worse since it was Lee Know. The unforgiving, dangerous menace Lee Know.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, Lix.”

Felix got up, entirely ignoring the condition of his body.

“What? Does he already know? Did he see us?”

Felix was on the verge of breaking down – he’d either cry or vomit or do both, his nerves were getting the best of him.

“Nah, but you kind of kissed him, too.”

“What????” Felix' deep voice turned into a high-pitched one, each shock making it even more shrill.

Chan laughed amused.

“Yeah, that was kind of the highlight of last night. You came up to me and explained that you kissed y/n and you felt so bad about it and didn’t want Lee Know to be mad at you, so you walked up to him and kissed him as well. In a room full of people might I add.”

Felix clasped his hands over his head, bewildered and confused.

“You’re fucking with me, right? Is that some cruel joke? Please tell me Seungmin is standing behind the curtains and filming this. Please, Chan.”

Chan ruffled through Felix’ blonde hair and flashed him a warm smile.

“It’s real, Lix. Why don’t you check your phone if you don’t believe me?”

Chan got up and left, leaving Felix alone with his thoughts.

My phone..

Felix searched his bed, shuffling aside pillows and plushies until he finally found his phone and turned it on again. He received a lot of messages after leaving the party but there were only two that caught his attention.

What the fuck did I do?

[kjmsupremacist]

poison sweet off the vine (chan/felix)

Chan, a poor student hoping to make a little extra money while he pursues a masters in music production, lands a gig as a super rich family’s pool boy. He thinks it’s pretty sweet at first. He’ll get to stay in a fancy house and eat fancy leftovers and all he has to do is clean their pool and help out around the house. And then he meets Felix, the bratty, sharp-tongued, skirt-wearing son of his employers. He knows he could get fired for just looking at Felix the wrong way, but Felix, even with his stormy, unpredictable moods and ignorant selfishness, is alluring and beautiful.

Part 2  | prev next  mlist

Characters: Chan, Felix, other members of skz throughout

Genre: smut, eventual romance, angst, I cannot overstate how much of this is sex

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: alcohol, family dysfunction, mentions of homophobia, slut-shaming (both the fun kind and the not fun kind), feminization

Rating: Explicit

Length: 14.3k

Felix has got some shit going on in this one. It’s not, like, super serious and we don’t really get into addiction territory, but I will say it might be triggering for some people, so please just proceed with caution.

Chan wakes to his phone ringing. 

He grunts sleepily, turning over in bed and getting twisted in his sheets. He manages to wrestle an arm free and slaps around for his phone, nearly knocking it into the abyss that is the floor in the process. At last, he grips it and brings it in front of his face. 

It’s horrendously bright and stings his poor, sleepy eyes, but he makes out the caller ID—Lee Minho. 

“Hello?” he croaks, accepting the call. 

“Oh good, I’m still in your favorites,” Minho says in lieu of a greeting. “And good, you’re still not dead.”

“What fucking time is it?” Chan groans.

“About five a.m. for you, so four for me,” Minho answers promptly. “You haven’t texted for three days! I was kind of worried those rich fuckers murdered you and are slow-roasting your body for Christmas dinner.”

“Why the fuck are you up at four a.m.?” Chan asks, choosing to ignore the comment about cannibalism. 

“Calling you,” Minho says. “Look, I figured during the day you’d keep your phone on silent, and wouldn’t pick up no matter what. But at night, you probably have your ringer on for your alarm, and though it might be on DND, as long as I’m still one of your favorites, my call will come through on the second try.”

“I’m taking you off my favorites,” Chan says, though he makes no move to do so. 

“So why haven’t you texted?”

Chan pauses for a second, running the past couple days over in his head. He and Felix have been fucking every chance they can get—after dinner in Felix’s room, in the sauna by the pool, even once in the garden, Felix pressed up against a very expensive statue. 

There’s a soft knock at the door. Chan shuffles to get it while he replies to Minho. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. This job is just—super active, you know, I’m exhausted every day.”

He cracks his door open and sees Felix in a robe standing expectantly outside. Chan gives him a sort of surprised and confused look, pointing at the phone, but gestures for him to come in, opening the door wider so he can slip through. 

“Okay, well, your best friend worries,” Minho is saying, “and so does your best friend’s boyfriend, so maybe text us at least once a day.”

“Oh, I see,” Chan says, dropping back down onto the bed with his legs dangling off the side and patting the mattress for Felix to join him. “You just called me because Jisung is worried, and you love him. Not ‘cause you’re actually concerned about me.”

“I am concerned about you,” Minho says. Felix doesn’t sit on the bed. He settles between Chan’s knees at his feet. Chan gives him a look; Felix blinks back serenely. “Jisung’s just… more teary about it, and I’m the only one that’s allowed to make him cry, so.”

Felix’s hands are on Chan’s thighs. “I promise I’ll text more from now on,” Chan says. 

“Good. So what’ve you been up to?” Minho asks.

Felix’s fingers slip under the waistband of Chan’s underwear. “Uh, not much,” Chan says. “Hey, listen, I should probably just go, like, do my job since I’m up. It gets hot in the afternoons. But get Jisung, and Jeongin if you can, and I’ll call later today. Like around 5 your time?” Minho groans. “C’mon, it’ll be nice if we can all talk.” He freezes when Felix reaches into his fucking pants and wraps a hand around his cock. He hopes his voice doesn’t sound too strained. “Besides, you should be asleep.”

“Fine,” Minho grumbles. “It’ll make Jisung happy.” 

“Okay, talk later, I promise.” Felix has pulled Chan’s cock out over his waistband. “Bye.”

“Bye.” The call barely ends before Felix has his mouth on Chan. 

Chan throws his phone somewhere on his bed and hisses out a moan. “What the fuck, Felix?” Felix doesn’t reply except to hum softly around Chan’s cock. “I was talking to my friend!” Felix takes him deeper, swirling his tongue over the tip. Chan presses his hand to his mouth to muffle a moan. “What if someone saw you?” he tries again. 

This gets Felix to pull off, and Chan squashes his disappointment under his thumb. “No one saw me,” Felix says. “Abeoji is already gone, and Eomma was in the shower.”

“What if she goes to check on you before she leaves?” Chan asks. He takes the sting out of the question by reaching down and cupping Felix’s jaw. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, baby.”

“She’s not gonna check on me,” Felix says. “And even if she did, she wouldn’t care or come looking.” He huffs softly, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “Now are you gonna let me blow you, or what?”

Chan laughs quietly. “‘Course I am,” he says. “You were just trying to surprise me, right?”

Felix nods petulantly, sinking back down on him, little hands braced on Chan’s thighs for support. Chan combs his fingers through Felix’s hair, getting a good fistful of the pink locks and tightening his grip—not enough to hurt, just enough for Felix to feel it. Felix hollows his cheeks and takes him even deeper, his face practically buried between Chan’s legs.

“Mm, god, Lix, does it ever stop for you?” Chan whispers. Felix shakes his head. “You just woke up and your first thought was, ‘I should go choke on Chan’s cock’?” Felix nods. “Jesus.” He brushes his own hair back with his other hand. “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it properly.”

He forces Felix’s head down a little, and Felix swallows around him, gagging softly, but he doesn’t resist. His eyes flutter shut as he takes Chan deeper still, until Chan feels the head of his cock hit the back of Felix’s throat. He stops then, giving Felix a second to adjust. “Good girl,” Chan murmurs, and Felix whimpers softly. “Can’t believe how well you take me.” He reaches down and smoothes his thumb over Felix’s pinched eyebrows. “Breathe, baby. Relax. I’m gonna fuck your throat, right?”

Felix does as he’s told with a nod, breathing in deep through his nose, melting against Chan’s body. His grip on Chan’s thighs loosens, and he swallows around Chan again, this time without gagging. He looks up at Chan, pretty eyes wide and inviting. 

“Ready?” Chan asks. Felix gives a minuscule nod. “Pinch me if you need to stop.” Felix rolls his eyes; Chan gives him an exasperated look in return, tightens the fist in Felix’s hair, and first pulls him off, then pushes him back down. 

Felix can take a lot. Chan learned that quickly. But still, it amazes him how quietly and easily he can deepthroat Chan. And Chan’s a realist, he knows he’s sort of just average size, but it’s not like he’s small. He shoves his cock down Felix’s throat and the only noise that comes is the wetness of the thick saliva that has gathered in Felix’s mouth. It takes a long minute or two before Felix starts gagging, but even then he doesn’t ask Chan to stop.

A sort of haze gathers in Chan’s peripheral, and he forces himself to pull out. Felix coughs wetly, panting, as Chan jerks himself off with quick, rough strokes. He realizes Felix has started to cry, but Felix only swipes the tears away and tips his head back, opening his mouth. “Wanna taste you, daddy,” he demands, voice hoarse. He sticks his tongue out, making his eyes big and pleading.

Chan curses softly and lays the head of his cock on Felix’s tongue with shaking hands. “Gonna make me—” He can’t even finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, but Felix knows. It only takes a couple more strokes, and he’s coming on Felix’s tongue, coating the roof of his mouth with his release. 

Felix doesn’t try to swallow until Chan finally pulls out, and once he does he opens his mouth after to prove he did it.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Chan murmurs, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. “Come here, baby, up on the bed with me. I’ll take care of you.”

Felix lets Chan pull him up onto the mattress and manhandle him into his lap. Chan scoots them back, rotating so he can lean up against the headboard. Felix hardly seems to pay this any mind, already attaching his mouth to Chan’s chest, kissing over his collarbones. 

Chan undoes the sash of Felix’s robe, and he shrugs it off, letting the fabric slip away, revealing his pretty body. Chan can see his cock, tip beading precome, glistening even in the dark. He tries not to think about how there’s probably a dark wet stain on one of the folds of Felix’s robes. 

“Baby,” Chan whispers, taking hold of Felix’s chin and forcing him to look up. “There you are.” He leans in and kisses him, letting go of his jaw so he can wrap his arms around Felix’s waist instead, pulling him in. He can taste himself on Felix’s tongue, earthy and bitter. Felix moans into his mouth, rolling his hips up, his cock dragging against Chan’s abs. 

“Mm, I, I,” Felix says between kisses. “I fingered myself open b-before I came down here. Used lots of lube, so—” Chan nips at his lip and he cuts himself off to gasp. “—so I’m nice ‘n’ wet. You can—you can finger me, daddy, please.”

“Fuck,” Chan mutters, letting one hand dip down low, circling Felix’s entrance. He’s slick with lube, just like he said, and two of Chan’s fingers slip in with ease. Chan can picture it clearly, Felix on his elbows and knees, panting quietly in the pre-morning blue dark of his room, working himself open and making sure every spot he can reach is wet and ready before clambering off his bed and wrapping himself in his robe to come down and wake Chan up.

“Told you, I’ll keep myself prepped for you,” Felix says breathily. 

“You’re trying to kill me,” Chan accuses.

“No, I’m not into necrophilia,” Felix replies immediately. 

“I hate you,” Chan mutters, suppressing a smile. He shoves a third finger in and presses up. Felix drops his forehead to Chan’s shoulder, making a noise of surprise. Chan thrusts his fingers up again, hot satisfaction settling under his skin when he feels more precome blurt out of the tip of Felix’s cock and drip down onto Chan’s stomach. 

“Yes, yes,” Felix pants. “Like that, daddy, yes.” He rocks his hips up, and if Chan hadn’t literally just come, he knows he’d be in danger. 

He fingers Felix fast and ruthless, holding him close with his other arm and murmuring praise into his ear. Felix digs his fingernails into Chan’s biceps, bouncing back on Chan’s fingers, rutting his cock up against Chan’s body. His moans are quiet—even he knows what they’re doing is a little risky—but the sounds fill Chan’s head anyway.

“Such a perfect little slut,” Chan coos. “Always wanting to be filled, trying to get off. What am I gonna do with you, babygirl?” 

Felix whines softly, biting down on Chan’s pec, low enough that a tank top will easily cover it. Chan sees the muscles in his back tense. He rarely announces it when he’s going to come—Chan almost wonders if it’s a surprise to him each time, except he can’t imagine that’s true—but Chan’s getting pretty good at figuring him out. 

“Gonna come, sweetheart?” he murmurs, leaning close and speaking into Felix’s temple. Felix nods jerkily. “Gonna come on daddy’s fingers? Lemme see it, baby.” 

Felix lets out a soft, defeated sob, and then he’s coming all over Chan’s stomach, hole clenching and unclenching around Chan’s fingers. “Fuck, oh fuck, daddy, daddy,” he babbles, muffled. It takes over his whole body; he shakes, toes curling in the sheets, fingers and arms rigid. At last he collapses against Chan, right into the mess he just made.

Chan pulls his fingers out, reaching with his other hand for the box of tissues on his nightstand. He presses kisses to the top of Felix’s head while he cleans off his fingers, then reaches down to swipe away the excess around his hole. Felix whimpers softly. 

“Sore?” Chan murmurs. “Sorry, just don’t want you to walk out of here with lube dripping down your thighs.”

Felix moans happily. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, I would,” Chan says, pinching his hip. 

“Mmm,” Felix hums. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

“Oh fuck, is that today?” Chan asks. “I was wondering what this was all about.”

Felix sits back, reaching for a tissue too so he can clean off his tummy. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m going to be totally booked all of tomorrow with family stuff. Tonight too. Such a drag.”

Chan nudges him. “You’ll get presents, at least,” he points out. “And it’s just a couple days. I think you can survive without my dick for that long.”

“What if I can’t?” Felix asks, but he’s grinning. 

“Then you know where to find me,” Chan replies, pulling him in for a soft kiss. Felix drapes his arms over Chan’s shoulders and kisses back with a sweet sigh. 

“Who was that on the phone?” Felix asks when they pull away. 

“Oh,” Chan says, glancing around to see his phone balancing precariously at the foot of the bed. “My friend from home. Just wondering why I hadn’t texted for the past couple days. Worried I was murdered or something.”

“Just a friend?” Felix asks. 

Chan frowns at him. “Uh, yeah, just a friend. What are you, jealous? I don’t ask who else you might be fucking.”

Felix sighs. “I was just wondering.” He pats around behind him and finds his robe, drawing it up over his shoulders. 

Chan feels bad for snapping at him. It was just a question. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Would it be a problem, if he wasn’t just a friend?”

“No,” Felix says, but it’s curt. 

“Baby, you can talk to me, you know?” Chan tries to reach up and touch his face, but Felix ducks away, expression souring.

“I said no. It’s fine,” he says. He climbs off Chan’s lab, tossing the soiled tissue in the garbage and bending to pick up his sash. “I’m going back to bed to get some more sleep,” he says as he fastens it. “It’s almost six, so you should probably head to breakfast before Maya leaves for the day. Our private chef won’t cook for you like she does.”

Right, Christmas. Maya will be off at around ten today and won’t be back until the day after Christmas. It’s just going to be Chan and the chef for the holiday. 

“Yeah, okay,” Chan agrees uncertainly. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Felix says, pausing to give Chan a swift kiss before sweeping out of the room. 

“Merry Christmas,” Chan whispers to the closed door. 

* * *

“Chan!” Jisung picks up on the first ring, even though Chan called Minho’s phone. “I miss you, how are you?”

“Hey Jisung,” Chan replies, grinning. “I’m good. I miss you too. All of you. Am I on speaker?”

“Yes,” Minho calls, sounding a little faint, like he’s across the room. 

Chan finished his chores early and decided to take a walk around the neighborhood for this call. He’s not sure yet exactly how much he’s going to tell his friends, but he definitely wants to talk somewhere where he can’t be overheard.

“Hi Chan!” This is Jeongin. “We’re at Minho’s parents’ house for a Christmas party! We’re hiding out in Minho’s bedroom with the cats while all the grown-ups deal with the food.”

“So what have you been up to?” Minho asks, sounding much closer to the phone now. “I refuse to believe you’ve just been working. How’s Australia?”

“It’s good to be back,” Chan says. “And it’s hot.”

“It’s so weird to me that Christmas is in the summer there,” Jeongin says. “It fucking snowed here last night.”

“Sounds nice,” Chan says, wiping some sweat off his forehead. “It’s literally brutal here.”

“So, seriously, you’re just sweating your balls of cleaning some rich family’s pool, and that’s it? Do you get time off?” Minho resumes grilling him. “School hasn’t started yet, so you can’t be that busy.”

“You guys are alone?” Chan confirms. 

“Yes, we are,” Jisung says. “What, what is it?”

“So, uh.” Chan scratched the back of his head, looking around to make sure he’s alone on the street. “Well, this family has a couple of kids, right, and they’re all around our age. The son, Felix, he’s the same year as you, Jisung. And…” Chan hesitates, not sure how to explain.

“Oh my god,” Minho says loudly. “Oh my god, Chan, are you fucking him?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Chan mutters, and then has to hold his phone away from his ear as his friends erupt into shrieks of shock. 

Jeongin: “Hyung, you’re gonna get fired.”

Jisung: “Is he hot?”

Minho: “So that’s why you haven’t been texting us!”

“Yes, obviously he’s hot,” Chan says, choosing the easiest of these to reply to. “He’s beautiful, and he wears little skirts and stockings and makeup. And he was the one that seduced me, I’ll have you all know. He wouldn’t leave me alone! What was I supposed to do, tell him no?”

“Yes,” Minho says drily.

“So, like, what are you gonna do?” Jisung asks. 

“I dunno! He goes back to school in like a month, which is over in Perth so it’s not like I’ll see him after that, except maybe over Easter break.” Chan kicks at a pebble. “I like him, though. When he’s not being a little brat, he’s very sweet.” He pauses, thinking back to this morning. “A little odd, though.”

“Anyone would be odd if they grew up around that much money,” Minho points out. 

“He’s really moody,” Chan says. “Not sure what causes it, but… he’s just hard to figure out, I guess. But I like him.”

“It’s that good, huh?” Minho teases, and Chan groans. 

“Yes, okay? I wish you guys could see him, you’d understand,” Chan says. “He’s so pretty. He doesn’t look real.”

“Maybe you’re hallucinating him,” Jeongin suggests, laughing. 

“I almost wish I was,” Chan mutters wearily. “But anyway, that’s it, really. Just me making some really poor decisions. But what about you guys? How have things been since I left?”

The other three launch into updates about their lives—family drama, news from school. Chan listens, comforted by their voices and the familiarity of their struggles. The whole time he’s been here, he’s been so busy with his work (and with Felix) that he didn’t realize how homesick he was, but now, listening to his friends chatter, he feels kinda lonely. He takes a couple more turns around the block this way, chatting and laughing.

“My mom’s calling, I think we have to go,” Minho says finally. 

“Go on, enjoy your party,” Chan says. “We’ll call again soon.”

“Enjoy your fuckbuddy,” Jeongin says.

“Think about it this way!” Jisung says cheerfully when Chan groans. “At least you don’t have to worry about getting him pregnant!”

“I’m hanging up,” Chan says over their laughter. “I love you all, somehow. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, hyung!”

“We love you, too.”

Chan waits for them to hang up, then pockets his phone with a sigh. The air is still and quiet now without their voices in his ear. He makes his way back to the house, punching in the code for the gate and slipping past, making sure it closes behind him. He goes around back, taking the staff entrance by the garage. The family is still having dinner. Once they move to the second floor, he supposes he’ll go scrounge for leftovers. 

* * *

Christmas passes. Chan doesn’t see Felix again until a couple days after, which does strike him as bizarre seeing how they live in the same house. Felix returns to him with a smile, like the weird moment they had the morning of Christmas Eve never happened. Chan chooses to ignore it, too, and in doing so, closes a door on some of his emotions swirling beneath the surface. It’s not like that will go anywhere, right? Felix has made that clear. 

And so they fall into a routine. Now that the holidays are coming to a close, Felix has realized he has some prep work for school, so he spends his mornings on that while Chan does his chores. When he finishes, he sneaks up to Felix’s room so they can fuck before dinner. Luckily, with the sparse number of staff members, they’re never in danger of getting caught.

New Year’s Eve comes before Chan knows it. The family has a party to attend after dinner, so Chan hurries through his chores since Felix will need time to get dressed. He scarfs down a lunch of cold leftovers, and then picks his way upstairs, dodging Olivia and one of the maids. They didn’t have a chance yesterday since Felix had an appointment in town—something about a magazine shoot, though Chan didn’t really get the details.

Felix is at his desk, bent over a textbook, glitter pen in hand when Chan opens his door. He looks up and immediately breaks into a smile when he sees him, capping his pen and putting it down, closing the book over it to mark his place. Chan locks the door behind him and crosses the room, taking Felix’s face in his hands and kissing him without saying hello. 

“Ugh, finally, you’re so slow,” Felix complains between kisses, letting Chan pull him to his feet and push the chair out of the way. His beautiful voice, Chan finds himself thinking. Deep and rich and smooth. “I was so bored, daddy, and I missed you yesterday, and—ah!”

Chan bends him over his desk with a hand on his back. Felix’s knees knock cutely as he grips the edge of the desk, making breathless little noises of want. His tiny skirt—white today, with a matching bralette and thigh-highs that dig into the soft skin and create a little bubble over the top—hides nothing at this angle, flipped up to reveal Felix’s pink little hole, his cock hanging between his thighs. He’s not wearing any panties.

“You’re such a brat,” Chan murmurs, hoping his tone hides the worst of his affection, pulling the chair back and sitting down in it, scooting closer and spreading Felix’s ass with one hand. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Felix chants, shivering. 

“Did you get all clean for me?” Chan asks, pressing a dry thumb to his rim. 

“Yes, I saw you finishing up in the pool,” Felix tells him, breathless. “But you’re gonna have to prep me, I didn’t have time.”

“That’s fine, baby,” Chan says, and leans in, licking a flat stripe over his entrance. Felix moans again, pushing his ass back, and after a few more minutes of teasing, Chan eats him out in earnest, getting both of them messy with spit as he works to push his tongue inside.

One day without each other shouldn’t make such a difference, but both of them have clearly gotten used to getting off multiple times a day, so the wait has felt like forever. Chan’s already rock-hard in his shorts, a tent forming in the fabric over his crotch. 

Felix is dripping precome onto the floor between his feet, Chan notices when he pulls back to take a breath. It’s kind of cute and really hot, the way he hands his body over to Chan and does very little to manage the way it reacts.

Chan reaches into the second desk drawer for lube so he can actually open Felix up, drizzling some over his index finger and giving Felix one last kiss before pushing his finger inside. 

“Oh-hhh, yes, Chan,” Felix slurs, pressing his cheek to the desk. 

Chan stretches him easily, Felix’s body already used to this kind of intrusion. He finds his prostate and pets over the spot, watching Felix shake. They’ve never tried it, but Chan wants to watch him come like this, so he stays here, massaging over the spot and stroking over Felix’s perineum with his thumb at the same time. 

“Oh, fuck, feels so good,” Felix mumbles. “Mm, keep going. I feel warm, Chan, all over.”

“Good,” Chan says quietly. Felix gasps out little moans, his legs trembling. “Relax, baby, it only works if you relax.”

Felix whimpers but obeys, slumping against the desk and letting Chan milk his prostate. After a few more minutes, a shudder passes through Felix’s whole body, and a small spurt of release dribbles from Felix’s cock, dripping down his legs and mixing with his precome on the floor. 

“Ohhh, god, that’s so—I can’t—Chan,” Felix babbles. “More.”

Chan adds a second finger, scissoring them inside Felix to press at his walls. He is trying to prep him, after all. Once Felix’s body seems to accommodate the stretch, Chan starts again, stroking over his prostate, slow and insistent. 

He’s only seen it in porn, if he’s being honest, but Chan does his research. He tried it on himself once, but either it’s really that much better with a partner or Chan’s body just doesn’t do that, but it didn’t work—it felt nice at first, but ended up just kind of uncomfortable. He’s delighted (and honestly unsurprised) to find that Felix is capable.

Felix shudders out soft moans, voice sweet and poisonous as ever, shakily readjusting his grip on the desk. It’s obscene, Chan thinks, leaning back in the chair to take him in. His little skirt lies flat against his back. One of his thigh-highs is slipping down. There’s a puddle of his release between his feet. Chan couldn’t have imagined something hotter. 

“Daddy,” Felix whimpers, so soft, so helpless. “Think I’m gonna—feels so—” He chokes on a moan, going up on his tiptoes and bending his knees. More release drips out. He settles again, body heavy against the desk, like his legs really are going to give out at any moment. “It feels like coming,” he mumbles, “but not.”

“You look so pretty, baby, so wrecked,” Chan says softly, leaning around so Felix can see him over his shoulder. “Think you can take another finger?”

“Yes,” Felix says immediately. “You’re still gonna fuck me, right?”

Chan’s lips twitch in amusement. “Of course I am,” he replies. “We have all afternoon, don’t we?”

Felix hums, placated. “Yes,” he agrees softly. 

Chan pushes three fingers in. Felix tenses around him for half a second, and then relaxes with a sigh. Chan sinks his fingers all the way to the last knuckle, moving slow and enjoying Felix’s reactions, the way he huffs out little moans, the way his legs still won’t stop shaking. 

One of Felix’s hands slips off the desk, and instead of trying to regain his grip, he brings the dropped hand to his cock, stroking in time with Chan’s fingers. Chan doesn’t even bother saying anything. He knows even if Felix comes, he’ll be able to come again when Chan fucks him. 

“Chan, mm, god, Chan,” Felix mumbles. “Always make me feel so good.”

It only takes Chan cramming his pinky in beside the others for Felix to convulse against his desk, hips twitching as he comes. It spills over his knuckles and down his legs, soaking into the fabric of his thigh-highs. 

“Ready,” Chan says calmly, pulling his fingers out and letting Felix struggle through pushing himself off the desk and upright. 

He manages it, turning around and carefully avoiding the puddle of his release on the floor, leaning back against the edge of the desk and looking down at Chan through heavy-lidded eyes. He brings his soiled hand up to his lips and sticks one of his fingers in his mouth, cleaning himself up as he catches his breath. 

“God,” he hums. “It’s gonna be so annoying when I go back to school.” Another finger pops out clean; he moves on to the next. “Who’s gonna fuck me like this?” He turns his hand so he can lick over the back of it. “You’re gonna have to call me, daddy.”

Chan smiles. “Guess I will,” he agrees. 

“Good.” Felix’s hand is clean of come, and he reaches behind him for a tissue, then turns back around and bends down to wipe off the floor. Chan clenches his hands in his lap so he doesn’t pinch Felix’s ass, even though he’s pretty sure that’s exactly what Felix wants. Felix stands again, tossing the tissue into the garbage and giving Chan a glance over his shoulder before waltzing over to his bed. “Well? Come fuck me.”

Chan stands, tugging off his clothes and draping them over the back of the desk chair. “Just one round, though,” he says. “Your parents will be home soon, and you have your New Year’s dinner to get ready for.”

“If you hurry, we’ll have time for two,” Felix says slyly. 

Chan, now naked, strolls past him to grab a condom, one hand on his cock to start working himself up to full hardness. “Why are you so insatiable?” he asks.

“C’mon, quick,” Felix demands, pouting.

Chan tears the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on and spreading a little lube over his cock. “God, but if they find out, they’d be so mad,” he says. The fear is real, but right now it’s far away, and easy to joke about. “They’d never forgive me for corrupting you.” 

They both know if anything, it was the other way around, but neither of them mention it. Instead, Felix bends over the bed, arching his back and spreading himself with his hands. “Corrupting me?” he repeats. “Then come finish the job, daddy. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Careful what you wish for,” Chan murmurs. He grabs his underwear from the chair and brings them back to the bed with him. “Open. You’re gonna be loud, and I know one of the maids is right downstairs.” 

Felix obeys, blinking up at him prettily as Chan stuffs his underwear into his mouth. Satisfied, Chan steps back, lining himself up behind Felix and gently swatting his hands out of the way. He collects Felix’s wrists in one of his palms and pins them against his tailbone, right over the pleats of his skirt.

For how casually he’s been acting, Chan is aching. He stops wasting time, finally pushing in with a soft groan. Felix lets out a muffled whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. Chan tightens his grip on Felix’s wrists as he bottoms out, clenching his jaw.

“So tight today, babygirl,” he grits out. “Does it hurt?” Felix nods with another tiny whimper. “Doesn’t matter how much I fuck you, does it? Just one day, and your body tightens right back up for me.” He takes a couple slow, shallow thrusts, waiting for Felix to open up for him. “Perfect,” he adds. “Made for fucking.”

Felix moans at this, barely audible through the fabric crammed in his mouth. His hair has partially fallen into his face. He looks like an angel, Chan thinks before he can stop himself. It wouldn’t matter; it’s true whether Chan lets himself think it or not. 

Chan can move with ease now, so he speeds up, thrusting in with much more force until the sound of skin against skin is loud enough to make him a little nervous. But Felix is making pleased sounds, so Chan decides it’s worth a little risk. He lets his jaw drop open, panting out sharp exhales, trying to keep himself silent as best he can.

It’s difficult, though. Felix is warm and wet around him. Pleasure is a hot, heavy stone in the pit of Chan’s stomach, and the feeling only grows with every movement. The A/C is on high, but still Chan feels sweat beading on his hairline, can feel the flush that’s crept up his neck to his cheeks and down to his chest.

Felix moans out what sounds like yes, daddy, faster. Chan obeys immediately, somehow speeding up the rocking up his hips. Felix’s eyebrows pinch prettily, his eyes finding Chan’s. He’s picture-perfect, even with his hair in his face and tears welling up quick on his waterline. Maybe especially. One tear spills over, a fat drop of water. It rolls sideways down his face, over the bridge of his cute nose, distorting his freckles. He blinks, and another tear falls, and another. His eyeliner begins to smear. 

Chan doesn’t know why, but Felix’s tears turn him on just as much as the skirts and stockings. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs. “Feels that good?” Felix manages a nod, sniffling. “Finally getting fucked like you wanted?” Another nod, followed by a muffled sob. Chan has half the mind to take the makeshift gag out, just to hear Felix’s voice. “Gonna take care of you,” he says instead. This gets him another muted sob in response, and pride glows warm in his chest. 

Chan continues to pound into him, almost enraptured by the way Felix’s tears work to ruin his careful makeup. Felix’s wrists slip from his hold, but Chan doesn’t move to take them again. If Felix wants to take the underwear out, Chan doesn’t think he wants to stop him. Felix doesn’t, though, just uses his arms to prop himself on his elbows, fucking himself back on Chan’s cock, taking fistfuls of the sheets and letting his head hang. 

Chan secures a hold on Felix’s waist with one hand, using the other to reach up and grab Felix’s hair. Felix makes a noise of want in the back of his throat the instant Chan’s fingertips brush past his scalp. Chan takes his pretty hair into his fist and uses it to pull his head back up, until Felix is arched back and whimpering. He wishes there was a mirror, so he could see the tear-tracks on his face, the red blush that colors his neck and chest, the way his tiny fingers are curled tight into the duvet. 

Felix spits the gag out, almost like a challenge. “Y-yes,” he stutters, finally free. “Chan, yes, like that. Fuck, I’m gonna feel you all night long, you’re all I’m gonna think about.”

Chan can’t help the noise that escapes him, low and guttural. He likes that a lot. Felix will be around so many rich, beautiful people tonight, but he’ll have the reminder of Chan with every step. A mark of possession. Chan might never be part of the world Felix is from, but he’ll have this. He’ll know he had him. 

Felix does seem to try to keep his noises to a minimum, despite the fact that he doesn’t have anything stopping him anymore. Either he’s just humoring Chan, trying to prove that he can be good, or he’s actually taken Chan’s warning to heart. He cries softly, the sound muted by his closed lips. 

“Staying so quiet for me,” Chan whispers. “Good girl.”

“Oh, fuck,” Felix says in a small, broken voice. “F-fuck, daddy, thank you, thank you.” 

Chan presses his fingers into Felix’s hips, wondering if he can sear his fingerprints in through the fabric of the skirt if he tries hard enough. He feels the heat build inside him, a fever threatening to eat him alive. Stars float in front of his vision, and he fights to keep an even pace. Felix hiccups out little moans, mumbling more thank you, daddys and right there, yes, pleases. Chan’s world is spinning, spinning; he makes some kind of noise, but it’s hazy even to his own ears. He thinks he feels the tension snap in his stomach.

“Mm, yes,” Felix hisses out. Chan closes his eyes, his hips still moving, though erratically now. “So warm, daddy, can feel it. Wish you could fill me up for real, wish I could keep you with me tonight, a load plugged up and hidden—”

There’s rushing in Chan’s ears, and he sways, body twitching. He thinks he lets go of Felix’s hair, thinks he can feel Felix clenching around him, can feel him writhing in pleasure beneath him, but it’s all so far away.

Chan tilts himself forward, caging Felix’s body with his arms and resting his forehead against his back, breathing deep and slow. Felix giggles softly. The noise is a little clearer, or maybe Chan’s just closer. “Are you gonna pass out?” he hears Felix ask.

“No,” he says hoarsely, then reconsiders and adds, “I don’t know.”

Another breathy giggle. “‘Cause I wouldn’t be able to move,” Felix says. “I’d—I’d be trapped here with you on top of me, still inside me.”

The world is coming back into focus, but Chan doesn’t dare open his eyes. He feels lightheaded. “You sound like you’d like that a lot,” he mutters. “Didn’t you just come?

“Yeah, but you know. Worse people to be trapped under,” Felix hums placidly. “Worse cocks to be stuck on.”

“Thanks, I think,” Chan says.

They lay there for a few long moments, just breathing. Chan doesn’t drop his full weight onto Felix—as much as Felix seems convinced he’d like it, Chan is a little worried he’s going to crush him. It is oddly peaceful, slowly floating down together in the afterglow. The room smells like sex, but Chan’s nose is against Felix’s skin, and the sweet citrusy scent all but overpowers it. He takes another deep breath.

“Felix! Olivia!” The intercom crackles to life and Chan nearly has a heart attack, snapping his eyes open and lurching off of Felix’s body before realizing Mrs. Lee’s voice is coming from the speaker, which means she has to be downstairs in her office. “We have dinner in an hour and the Hwang’s New Year’s Eve party to get to right after. Your sister is already ready. I won’t allow us to be late! Dressed and downstairs in forty-five minutes, no excuses!”

The room is silent, and then Felix buries his face in his duvet and laughs.

“How are you laughing?” Chan complains. “I think I almost pissed myself.”

“Take back what I said,” Felix says into the duvet. “Glad you have a condom on. Piss is where I draw the line.”

Chan pulls out, rolling the offending condom off and tossing it in the trash. “Shut up,” he mutters. “Well, you heard her.” Felix stands, too, reaching for a tissue to wipe his come off the bed. “You have forty-five minutes to not look like you just got fucked, so you better hurry up.”

“I’m a professional, I can do it in twenty,” Felix says. When he turns to Chan, he’s got a glint in his eye that Chan knows means trouble. “Which means we have time for one last round.” 

“Felix, she’s home,” Chan hisses.

“So?” Felix says. “We’ve fucked with my parents home before.”

“Yeah, but not on a night like tonight!” Chan says. “What if she comes up to check that you’re actually getting ready?”

Felix makes a face. “She won’t,” he says, and there’s a bitterness there that Chan doesn’t quite understand. “She’d rather be disappointed.” He seems to sense Chan is wavering, and clears his expression. “Please,” he wheedles. “One more, just one. So I can make it through this stupid party.”

“I thought you were friends with the Hwangs’ son,” Chan says, but he’s already going for a fresh condom. Felix tosses him his underwear and he puts them with his other clothing.

“Yeah, but our parents are going to be breathing down our fucking necks,” Felix says. He crawls up to the head of the bed. “You can go slow this time, so the bed doesn’t creak. Besides,” he adds with a giggle as he unclasps his bralette and throws it in the general direction of his hamper. “I think if you fucked me like you just did, I’d bleed—which normally I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t think Eomma would take kindly to bloodstains on my new suit.”

“Oh, a suit?” Chan says, raising an eyebrow, climbing onto the bed, too. Felix reaches out for his cock, so Chan moves closer, watching Felix’s little hands wrap around it. He’s sensitive, but they’ve taken enough of a break that it’s not unbearable.

“Mm, a suit. It’s white silk, very pretty,” Felix says. “This is a serious event, my parents would never let me go in a skirt.”

“I’ll always like the skirts best,” Chan says as Felix sits up properly so he can press his tongue to the tip of Chan’s cock. Chan inhales sharply through clenched teeth, the air almost whistling from the speed. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a pretty suit, too.”

“Come see us off after dinner,” Felix says. “Ask my mum if she needs anything before she goes. She’ll like that, and you’ll get to see me.”

“Okay,” Chan agrees softly, running a hand through Felix’s hair.

Felix uses his hands and mouth to work Chan back up to hardness. Chan watches the clock. It takes ten minutes. He’s going to have to be quick if they don’t want to get caught. There’s a part of him that knows he should’ve said no, should’ve gotten dressed and left, but a bigger part of him is enjoying the risk. Or maybe it’s just the part of him that wants to agree to everything Felix says.

So Chan rolls the new condom on, adds more lube. Felix settles back into the pillows, spreading his legs, cock just beginning to harden again underneath his skirt. Downstairs, Felix’s family prepares for dinner, for a party, and doesn’t wonder what’s taking Felix so long, doesn’t wonder where Chan has disappeared to. Just a few floors above them, Chan pushes back into Felix’s body with a soft grunt. Felix wraps his arms around Chan’s shoulders, his legs around Chan’s waist, pulling him close. 

It’s slow and quiet, completely different from the way they are just a half an hour before. Chan stays buried deep and circles his hips, grinding into Felix, his lips on Felix’s throat, his Adam’s Apple, his jaw. Felix ducks his head so they can kiss, deep and fierce and almost noiseless. 

“Chan,” Felix whispers between kisses. “So good to me.”

Chan smiles against his lips. Here, wrapped in each other's bodies, they can’t possibly hurt each other. “Of course I am,” he says. “I want what you want.”

“Even when it’s a terrible idea?” Amusement is a shining light behind Felix’s eyes.

Chan kisses him, quick and almost chaste. “I’m here, aren’t I?” he asks when he pulls away.

“Yes,” Felix whispers. The amusement fades, replaced by something else. “You’re here.”

Chan cups his face in his hands, stroking over his cheekbones with his thumbs. His makeup is destroyed, mascara drying on his cheeks and lip gloss smudged on his chin. His nose is still red, eyes still puffy, from crying. And he’s beautiful. I’ll be here as long as you want me, Chan thinks helplessly.

He kisses him again so he doesn’t say it. Their noses bump, but Felix leans in insistently, holding Chan close, fingers interlocked behind his neck. Chan breathes Felix in, lemon and sugar and sweat, rolling his hips, dirty and deep, swallowing all of Felix’s soft moans. Chan can feel Felix’s heartbeat under his fingertips, quick like a rabbit’s. Felix holds him close like he doesn’t want to let go.

When Chan comes, he doesn’t even make a sound. It passes through his body like something washing up on the shore—slow, almost languid, final. Felix kisses him through it, clenching tight dutifully, making it good for him. 

Chan pulls out and replaces his cock with a couple of his fingers, and works them in as deep as they’ll go, then thrusts shallowly, not enough to make a lot of noise. With his other hand, he thumbs over the slit of Felix’s cock. Felix covers his mouth with his hands, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling, abdomen tight from the exertion. 

He comes in a few weak dribbles that run down Chan’s knuckles, a tiny amount of fluid, nearly clear. Felix twists in the sheets but stays quiet, lifting his hips up off the bed as he shakes. “Good girl,” Chan murmurs, and Felix whines high and faint in the back of his throat.

There are twenty minutes exactly left for Felix to get ready when Chan hops off the bed to discard the condom and go wash his hands. Felix is working his way to the edge of the bed when Chan returns from the bathroom. He grabs his tank top and throws it on, walking over to the bed to give Felix a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll come see you off later, yeah?” he says.

Felix nods. “I’ll see you later.” He slips down onto the floor and stumbles, knees buckling. Chan grabs him before he can fall to the floor, and Felix giggles weakly. “Oh god, you fucked me so good, hyung,” he says, voice syrupy-sweet. “Oh, shit.” Chan lets him go and he wobbles, but remains standing. “Oh, my legs feel like jelly. What if I can’t walk?” He’s still giggling when he looks up at Chan.

“That’s not funny,” Chan groans, heading back to the desk chair to put on the rest of his clothes. “If your parents find out about this because I fucked you so hard you can’t walk right, I will literally never forgive myself.”

“Kind of a great way to go, though,” Felix says blithely, waltzing into the bathroom. “Go, before they really do catch you.”

“Right,” Chan mutters to himself, tying the waistband of his shorts.

* * *

Chan goes to bed early that night. He sees the family off, watching Felix out of the corner of his eye. The suit is very pretty, a warm-toned white, oversized and draped over Felix’s body perfectly. The shirt is made of a shimmery, gossamer fabric, and Mrs. Lee reminds Felix three times to button another button. She also tells Chan to take a bottle of champagne from the cellar to celebrate. 

Chan takes a bottle but doesn’t open it, just leaves it on his desk and heads into the shower to wash the day’s sins off of his body. He finds Felix’s come crusted in his nailbeds, and hopes to god nobody noticed.

He falls asleep long before midnight and wakes sometime in the stifling darkness of the early hours to a body next to his own, warm and smelling of champagne.

“Felix?” he whispers. “What time is it? Are you drunk?”

“No, just a little tipsy,” Felix whispers back. He sounds clearheaded; he must be telling the truth. “And it’s a little past two. Your door was unlocked. I just—wanted to come say goodnight. I wanted to see you.”

He’s not in his suit. He’s not in a robe, either; instead, little sleep shorts and an unassuming t-shirt, loose and soft from wear. Chan blinks against the dark, reaching a hand up to touch his face. His hair is still damp from his shower. “How was the party?”

Felix crawls under the blankets, pressing cold toes to Chan’s shins. “It was alright. I got to see my friends, at least. I need to see you and Changbin side by side. I think his arms are even bigger than yours.”

Chan exhales soft laughter, wrapping an arm around Felix and kissing the tip of his nose. “Well, alright is better than bad, I guess,” he says. “Make any resolutions?”

“To continue being a horrible little brat,” Felix replies, giggling. “You?”

“I didn’t,” Chan admits. “I didn’t really think about it.”

“It’s just another day,” Felix says with a half-shrug. “Just like yesterday. Just like tomorrow.”

“That’s true,” Chan agrees softly, some tender feeling blooming in his chest. 

“Happy New Year,” Felix whispers.

“Happy New Year,” Chan repeats.

“I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight,” Felix says.

“You do now,” Chan says, and kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him.

When Chan wakes up the next morning, Felix is already gone, but his sheets smell like champagne and lemons and sugar.

* * *

Chan is in the garden, trimming away dead leaves. Jerry went home early—a doctor’s appointment, Chan thinks he said, so it’s up to Chan to tend to the plants. The afternoon sun is punishing, beating against his back, but Chan honestly doesn’t mind it. The garden, when he’s alone, is peaceful. 

The first week or so of January has passed quietly. There’s only a couple weeks now before the new semester begins, and Chan finds himself looking forward to it. It’ll be nice to have other people around his age to talk to—Felix doesn’t count. 

Speaking of Felix, he thinks to himself as he moves down the row of plants, I wonder where he is? Chan didn’t see him at breakfast or at lunch. It’s not unlike him to sleep in, especially now that his break is almost finished, but Chan usually sees him before the afternoon wears on. Then again, Chan is usually around the house, not out in the gardens. 

He works his way to the center of the garden throughout the afternoon, pausing every now and again for water or sunblock. He gets to the clearing where he found Felix that first evening, and after he finishes his work there, he decides to give himself a break, dropping down onto the bench with a sigh.

He sits there awhile, answering a couple texts and checking his socials. It’s not so bad in the shade, and there’s a breeze today, so Chan actually finds himself comfortable after a few minutes of rest. He tips his head back, looking up at the trees.

He can’t imagine growing up in a place like this. This is an estate. It should be a museum. The whole property is so sterile, almost, pristine; meant for looking at, not living in. Chan honestly found it hard to believe anyone lived this way, except maybe the richest people in the world. But now here Chan is as proof—this sort of life is lived in, just meticulously looked after by unseen hands. 

Chan lets himself sit and contemplate for about a half an hour, and then begrudgingly gets to his feet to get back to work. He collects his tools and is about to move on when he hears uneven footfalls coming his way. 

Felix appears in the entrance to the clearing, wearing the tiny booty shorts and holding a nearly full bottle of wine. It’s a red today, and looks expensive. His lips are stained the faintest hint of dark purple, and his eyes, vacant and unfocused, light up when he sees Chan.

“Oh my god, there you are!” he exclaims. His crop top is slipping off the one of his shoulders; it slips further as he heads Chan’s way. Uneasy, Chan drops his tools back in the grass and pockets his phone. 

“Hey, Felix,” he says slowly, eyeing the bottle in his hand. “Is that… all you drank?” He can’t imagine it is; Felix stumbles over his own feet in the grass. 

Felix holds it up and looks at it, then takes another sip. “No,” he says, almost sing-songy. “I finished one after I got home.”

“Home from where?” Chan asks, letting Felix fall into his arms. “Careful, baby.”

Felix doesn’t answer. He’s busy pressing closer to Chan, nose against his neck. “Hi, daddy,” he slurs. “Missed you this morning.” He surges up and kisses Chan, wet and messy.

Chan raises his chin to get out of his reach. “Uh, yeah,” he says, debating the merits of taking the wine from Felix and the chances he’ll succeed. “I was working, like usual. Where… were you?”

“Oh, you know,” Felix mumbles vaguely, leaning in. Chan flinches back instinctively, and Felix frowns. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

“You’re super drunk, baby,” Chan says softly. “I’m worried about you. Here,” he says, bending down and picking up his water bottle. “How about some water?”

Felix shakes his head, and takes another swig of wine just to spite him. “I don’t want water,” he says petulantly. Chan swears the slurring is getting worse by the sentence. “I want wine, and I want you.” Another swig, and then he offers the bottle to Chan. Chan shakes his head. “‘Member how I said I want it all the time, even if I’m drunk?” He takes one of Chan’s hands with his own. “Well, I meant it.” He tries to pull Chan’s hand around his back, down toward his ass. 

“Felix.” Chan tries to pry his hand out Felix’s grasp as gently as he can, but Felix’s grip is surprisingly strong.

“C’mon, daddy,” Felix murmurs. Chan can feel the swell of one of his cheeks on his palm. “Don’t you want me?” He presses one of Chan’s fingers to his entrance, and Chan registers that he’s already loose and wet with lube.

Chan wrangles himself free, trying to ignore Felix’s gasp of pain when he accidentally bends one of his fingers. “This isn’t a good idea, Felix,” he says softly, hoping to gentle the rejection by keeping his tone light. It’s not that he doesn’t want him, he just doesn’t want him like this. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. The heat can’t be helping.” He tries to start walking them in the direction of the house, but Felix refuses to budge.

“No, please, Chan,” Felix whines. “Why not? You fucked me here before, remember?” Chan does remember. He remembers pressing Felix up against one of the statues and smothering his moans with a hand clamped tight over his mouth. There’s no way he couldn’t remember. “Why won’t you do it now?” Felix continues. “Just ‘cause I’m a little drunk? I told you, it’s fine. I’m a slut, I always want it.” He’s practically spitting the words at Chan; his voice has taken on a strange quality that Chan isn’t sure how to interpret. “I need it.”

“Baby,” Chan says softly. “I’m not gonna fuck you right now. Okay? I’m in the middle of working, and you need to drink some water and sober up, or your mum is going to lose her shit. C’mon, let me help you.”

This seems to infuriate Felix. He wrenches himself away, nearly losing balance. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll tell her about us.”

Fear courses through Chan’s body, but he knows immediately he’d rather take that risk than do something he knows is bad for Felix. “I don’t care,” he says softly. “Tell her. This isn’t right, I won’t do it, I’m not going to fuck you when you’re drunk and clearly—upset about something—”

“I’m not upset, the only thing I’m upset about is that you don’t like me anymore,” Felix protests. “Please, Chan. I need it.”

“No, you don’t,” Chan sighs, going up to him and linking their arms together. “And of course I still like you. We’re gonna go inside, okay? And we’re going to get you some water, and find Maya, and she’ll make you something to eat. I’m worried about you, baby, okay? Will you do this for me?”

Felix grumbles incoherently, but complies nonetheless, letting Chan march him out of the gardens. Chan thinks he murmurs a good girl in Felix’s ear; maybe that’s why he keeps walking. Felix takes drinks of his wine as they go, but Chan decides that that is not a battle worth fighting. He’s going to take this small victory and run, because the last thing he needs is for Felix to refuse to come with him again. In any case, he has much bigger problems to contend with at the moment—Felix trips over his own feet every few steps, most of his weight falling on Chan to carry. 

“Chan,” he slurs, giggles. He presses a sloppy kiss to Chan’s neck, nearly toppling both of them in the process. “You’re soooo strong. How come you’re walking so straight?” More giggles, interrupted by a hiccup. “The world is sideways.”

“Just keep moving,” Chan says. “I’ve got you.”

So he lets Felix drink without saying a word as they cross the bridge, the patio, and finally make it to the back door. Chan isn’t quite sure how he gets both of them inside, but he manages that, too, closing and locking the door behind him and letting Felix use him as a support while he kicks off his shoes. They pad clumsily down the hall, Chan veering them towards the kitchen and praying Maya will be there.

She is, thankfully, cleaning up at the breakfast bar and setting out some fruit. Her eyes widen when she sees them, taking in the drunken flush of Felix’s cheeks and Chan’s strained expression, dropping her work and hurrying to meet them.

“What happened?” she asks Chan.

“I don’t know,” Chan says, lies. “I ran into him when I was working in the garden. He’s…” Chan glances at the bottle in Felix’s hand. It’s already half-empty. “I think that’s his second bottle, I don’t know. He’s really drunk, and I didn’t know what to do, so I managed to convince him to come inside to get some water.”

Maya reaches out for Felix, but he just turns his head away. “Thank you, Chan,” she says softly. “Thank you for looking out for him.” Guilt runs through Chan’s veins like ice, but he nods. “He has days like this, but we’ve survived every one. Here, can you get him into a chair? I’ll go grab some water.”

She turns to go, and Chan starts to walk, but Felix groans, hanging his head, and vomits unceremoniously and without warning onto the floor. It spatters against the hardwoods, some of it splashing onto Chan’s socks. Watered down wine, purple-red, and nothing solid. No wonder he’s so fucked up, Chan finds himself thinking as Felix sways, bottle slipping from his fingers.

Chan’s memories of the next few minutes are blurry. He manages to catch the bottle as Felix drops it, saving it from shattering on the floor. Felix continues to throw up, all liquid, coughing and gagging even when it’s all gone, his full weight sagging against Chan’s side. Chan manages to get Felix into a chair; Maya brings him water and some paper towels to clean himself up with. Chan cleans up the mess on the floor while Maya calls for Felix’s parents. Mr. Lee isn’t home, but his mother takes one look and walks out, disgusted. 

Rachael is the one who takes Felix back to his room. Chan sees them get into the elevator, and that’s the last of it, Felix’s pink hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his face, Rachael with her arm wrapped tight around him, eyes stormy. The door closes, and Chan takes soaked paper towels to the trash.

The kitchen is quiet in the aftermath. Maya sighs softly, looking at Chan over the island. “Sorry,” she says. “But if you work here long enough, you see that eventually.”

“Is he… okay?” Chan ventures, just above a whisper.

“It doesn’t happen that often,” she says. “Usually, he’ll have a glass or two once in a while, and it’s fine. But sometimes…” She gestures helplessly around her. “I don’t know. They…” She lowers her voice. “They took him to a doctor once, but they said it wasn’t unusual for a kid his age to overindulge on occasion. Mr. and Mrs. Lee agreed, so they didn’t send him back.”

“What do you think?” Chan asks.

“I think he’s sad,” she says quietly after a moment of hesitation. “More than he lets on, and sometimes this is the only way he knows how to deal with it.”

* * *

The house has a sort of haunted silence to it for the rest of the day. Chan finishes his work quickly and retreats to his room to try and escape it, only leaving to grab something for dinner in the late evening. But the silence is everywhere, hanging heavy in the air, oppressive.

Still, the next morning, it seems things have returned to normal. Rachael leaves for her internship at her usual time. Felix doesn’t come to breakfast.

Chan only sees him after lunch when he’s restocking the patio. He comes down the stairs almost shyly, taking small, calculated steps and sitting down in a lounge chair slowly, like if he moves quietly enough, Chan won’t see him.

“Thank you,” Felix says finally. “For taking care of me yesterday.”

Chan blinks, setting down a water bottle and straightening, hesitating for a moment before walking over to Felix and sitting in the chair next to him. “Yeah, no, don’t worry about it,” he says. “It was the right thing to do. And…” He looks Felix over. He’s a little pale, and there are bags under his eyes, but he looks fine. “I’m glad you’re okay. Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Felix is silent for a few long minutes. Chan waits patiently, looking out over the sparkling water of the pool.

“My parents hate me,” Felix says at last. There’s a finality to his tone that makes his words sink in like dead weight. “They’re disappointed in everything I do. And you know? Sometimes I am too.” He runs his hands through his hair. “They have an idiot for a son, who gets so drunk he throws up on their hardwoods before dinner, and who has no direction in life and no idea what he wants to be. And honestly?” He waits until Chan is looking at him before he continues. “I’d just feel bad for them, except I know that the thing they hate the most about me is that I’m gay, and I dress like—“ He gestures down at himself. He’s in a demure linen dress today, the top three buttons undone and the waist cinched tight. “—like a sissy slut.” The words come out hard as stones, and Chan understands the tone he took in the garden yesterday. It wasn’t his own voice. It was his mother’s, stealing his tongue. “They pretend they’re supportive, because they don’t want to harm my dad’s image, but—I know the truth,” Felix says. “And I’m—I’m not ashamed of it. I know who I am. But I just wish—” He breaks off, presses his lips together, looking through Chan. “I just wish they loved me,” he finishes quietly. 

Chan’s heart twists in his chest. He still doesn’t really understand—where Felix goes, why he acts the way he does, what it is exactly that he’s running from—but he does feel hurt for him. “Felix,” he says softly.

Felix looks back up at him. “You know I wouldn’t have actually told them, right?” he asks seriously.

Chan blinks. “You… remember that?” He kind of assumed Felix had blacked out for most of the afternoon.

Felix nods miserably. “Yeah,” he mutters. “It’s spotty, but… I remember trying to—to get you to fuck me, and then threatening to tell my parents when you wouldn’t. And I just want you to know that I wouldn’t.” He pauses, looking at Chan, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Thank you,” Chan says softly.

“And I’m sorry.” The words sound like they’re being dragged from Felix’s chest. He must not apologize often, so Chan is honestly touched that he’s doing it now. “For—for throwing myself at you, and for saying I’d do that. And for puking on your socks.”

Chan can’t help the laughter that bursts out of him. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to rein it in. At least there’s a ghost of a smile now on Felix’s lips. “Really, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you. Do you know, the reason I don’t drink often is because I had a night like that in college?”

Felix leans in, intrigued. “Really? You?”

“Yeah,” Chan says, happy to be on a lighter topic, happy that Felix is no longer stewing in a world of self-pity. “It was my freshman year, right after finals, and I drank so much I was throwing up I swear for an hour straight. And the worst part is, it started in my friend Minho’s room, and his floor was carpeted.”

“Oh, fuck,” Felix laughs. The sound warms Chan.

“Yeah, so don’t feel bad. The cleanup yesterday was really easy,” Chan says. “Your hardwoods have a good sealant on them, don’t worry. Back then, we had to call in the poor cleaning staff, and they kicked my friends out of their room so they could shampoo it…”

* * *

“I’m gonna get lunch,” Felix says, emerging from the pool and wrapping a towel around his shoulders. “You know where to find me.”

Chan nods wordlessly, peeking up at him as he leaves before getting back to work. 

The break is coming to a close. Felix leaves first out of his siblings, going back in just a few days now. Though neither of them say it, Chan can tell they’re both making a more concerted effort to see each other as often as possible. It’s easy in some ways. Since the holidays are over, Mr. and Mrs. Lee spend most of their days out of the house, coming back late. And though all the staff members are back, which makes dodging them hard, at least Chan doesn’t have any extra work to hold him back.

So Chan finishes his work, grabs a quick lunch, and then heads upstairs. Felix is exactly where Chan expected him, curled up at his desk, busy gaming, cute round glasses on and a green Melona popsicle between his lips. 

Felix sees him when he comes in and scrambles to pause his game, pulling off his headphones and grabbing the popsicle out of his mouth. “Hi,” he says, almost breathless. His lips are bright red and glossy from the popsicle. 

“Hi,” Chan replies. He takes his time with the lock, strolling slowly over to Felix and running a hand through his hair. The roots are really starting to grow in, deep, inky black against faded pink. A measure of how long Chan has known him. “Still in your swimsuit,” he says.

“Thought maybe we could shower together,” Felix replies. He holds Chan’s gaze and licks a stripe up his popsicle. 

“Mm, good idea,” Chan agrees, bending over him and finally kissing him. Felix moans softly, his free hand coming up to grip one of Chan’s biceps, tiny fingers pressing into the muscle. His lips are cold and he tastes sweet. Chan licks over his bottom lip, then pushes in past his teeth. He’s sweet everywhere, popsicle coating his tongue.

Felix’s eyes are glazed with pleasure when they break apart. His popsicle is melting in his hand, but he seems unaware of it. Chan grins at him, bending to the side and catches a drop with his tongue. “I’m gonna eat this if you don’t,” he says. Felix just hums, holding it out to him, so Chan does the only logical thing, which is to take the whole thing in his mouth and then pull back off real slow, keeping his cheeks hollowed and his eyes on Felix. 

“You’re just as bad as I am,” Felix says with a dreamy giggle as Chan licks his lips.

“Wasn’t like this before I met you,” Chan says, which is mostly true. He kisses Felix again, pinning him to the chair. “We gonna shower?”

“Mm, yeah,” Felix says, but he keeps kissing Chan, alternating between that and taking licks of his popsicle. Chan knows he’s not helping; he reaches down between Felix’s legs and cups his cock in his palm, groping him through the thin fabric of his tiny swim bottoms. Felix lets out another moan, bucking up into Chan’s hand.

“Should really get in the shower, then,” Chan hums, but he keeps going, running his fingers up and down the length of Felix’s cock until he’s hard. Precome leaks a wet patch into the swim bottoms, the stain spreading as the minutes drip by. Felix swirls what’s left of his popsicle in his mouth, movements slow and lazy, moans muffled. “Should get going before you make a mess in your bikini,” Chan continues. 

“Mm, Chan,” Felix sighs, so pretty. “S-stop touching me, then.”

Chan hums like he’s considering it. “Do you want me to stop touching you?” he asks.

“N-no,” Felix stutters. He pulls the popsicle stick out, clean. “Kiss me.”

Chan obliges, bracing himself with a hand on the headrest of Felix’s chair. Felix pushes his cold tongue into Chan’s mouth, whimpering in the back of his throat as he runs it over Chan’s teeth. It’s messy, but Chan doesn’t care. He’ll happily lick any taste off the surface of Felix’s tongue.

They keep kissing until Felix comes, sticky white soaking through his swim bottoms and getting all over Chan’s hand, moans muffled in Chan’s mouth, popsicle stick dropped and forgotten on the floor. Felix goes limp against the chair when Chan pulls away, sighing softly. “Ohh, I felt that in my toes,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. 

Chan grins, kissing him on the tip of the nose, then reaches around with his clean hand to grab lube and a condom out of the desk drawer. “Okay, definitely shower now,” he says. 

“I can’t move,” Felix complains. “My legs won’t go.”

“You’re such a piece of work,” Chan mutters fondly, readjusting his grip on the lube and then simply scooping Felix out of the chair and carrying him to the bathroom. Felix squeaks in delight, giggling softly as Chan lowers him gently onto the edge of the tub. 

“You’re seriously so strong, Chan,” he says, watching as Chan pokes his head into the shower to start the water. “I bet you could squat me.”

“I could definitely squat you,” Chan agrees. “I could squat two of you.”

“We have a gym,” Felix says, now sounding a little dreamy. “You could probably even bench me.”

“Probably,” Chan says, setting the lube and condom down on the counter and giving him a look. “But I think if someone catches us in the gym together, they’re really gonna start asking questions.”

“Oh, but naked in my bathroom is okay?” Felix asks pointedly as Chan shucks his tank up and over his head. 

“The point of your rooms is people won’t just walk in,” Chan replies. “‘Cause you might be naked. Speaking of which, get moving.”

“Point taken,” Felix chirps, untying the strings of his bikini top and letting it fall to the floor, then stepping out of his soiled bottoms and hooking them over a finger. “Hurry up.” He steps into the shower and disappears behind the steam.

Chan shakes his head, carefully folding his underwear and laying it on top of the stack of the rest of his clothes on the counter. He picks up the lube and condom and heads into the shower.

Felix is waiting under the water, scrubbing at his swim bottoms. “One sec,” he says softly, glancing up when Chan brings in a whoosh of cold air. 

The shelves are out of the way of the spray, so Chan puts the lube and condom on the highest one, holding his hand out for Felix’s swim bottoms so he can hang them on one of the little hooks on the wall when he’s done. 

“Thanks,” Felix says, a genuine, proper show of gratitude. Chan hides his smile, reaching for the shampoo.

“Turn around,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

Felix obeys, and Chan squeezes a dollop of shampoo out onto his palm, capping the bottle with a click and putting it back before rubbing his hands together. He spreads the shampoo on Felix’s wet hair, pressing the pads of his fingertips into Felix’s scalp in a gentle massage, running his fingers through the strands to make sure the soap gets everywhere. 

“Your hair’s so smooth,” Chan finds himself saying. “Even though you’ve dyed it. It’s so soft.”

Chan can hear Felix’s smile even though he can’t see it. “Thanks.” Felix leans into his touch. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?” Chan asks, slowing his movements, working his fingers in circles. Felix moans lowly, and Chan’s pretty sure it’s not even sexual. “Good?”

“Yes, daddy,” Felix breathes, and—okay, maybe a little sexual. But he does kind of look like he’s melting a little bit, relaxing under Chan’s hands. 

He remains pliant as Chan washes his hair out for him, and patient when Chan works on his own hair. But the instant the soap is gone, his hands are on Chan’s body, pressing little kisses to his chest and arms. 

“Ready for round two?’” Chan asks needlessly. “Want daddy to fuck you now?”

“Mm-hm,” Felix agrees.

Chan puts the water on super hot and then points the faucet away from them so they don’t drown, but they stay warm. “Up against the wall, then,” he says, nodding to it. Felix goes immediately, pressing himself up against the tile and sticking his cute little ass out. “Jesus, baby,” Chan says before he can stop himself. “You look like a dream.” Felix just smirks at him over his shoulder.

Chan finds the lube, drizzling a little over his fingers as he walks up behind Felix. He kisses his shoulder blade, staying close as he feels around for his entrance and pushes a finger in. Felix moans softly, the sound echoing against the walls. “God, I always forget how big your fingers are,” he says. “Can’t ever make myself feel the way you do.”

“Good thing I’m here, then,” Chan says, pushing in past his middle knuckle and waiting for Felix to relax around him.

“Yeah, but—mm—you won’t be soon,” Felix says. “I mean, I won’t be. I’m gonna fuck my way through all the jocks trying to find someone who can do what you can.”

Chan tamps down the jealousy that flares in his chest. Felix isn’t his. He can fuck whoever he wants. “Good luck with that,” he says. “You’d have better time with artists. They actually have fine motor skills.”

“Mm, that’s a good point,” Felix huffs. “Hyunjin’s always been good with his hands.”

Chan decides he’s not going to ask exactly what Felix means by that. “Besides, I bet most of the athletes’ll only last a couple minutes.”

“I dunno,” Felix says, mischief rich in his voice. “Changbin has great stamina, and my other friend Seungmin is a baseball player, and he does too.”

“You trying to make me jealous?” Chan asks. “Or do you just fuck all your friends?”

“You’re not my friend,” Felix points out. “And I’m fucking you.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that,” Chan says, exhaling laughter.

“You should come visit me,” Felix says. “During a long weekend or something.”

“Your parents are gonna ask questions,” Chan says.

“You’re from here,” Felix argues. “You could just say you’re visiting an old friend.” 

“That’s true,” Chan acquiesces, retaliating by adding a second finger. Felix’s jaw drops open and satisfaction boils hot in Chan’s stomach. “Maybe I will.”

“You better,” Felix says, somehow still sounding all sharp and demanding despite the strain in his voice. “I don’t wanna wait until Easter to fuck you again.”

Chan can agree with that, at the very least. “That’s true, it’s a while to wait. And calling isn’t the same.”

“Mm-mm,” Felix agrees. “Not unless I commission a replica of your hands. Or your cock.”

“I don’t think even that would be enough for you,” Chan says, and Felix giggles.

“Probably not,” he admits. “Can’t help it. I just want you.”

Chan fits a third finger in, pumping them viciously even though it’s tight just so he can watch Felix squirm. “Yeah? Like the way I fuck you?”

“Better than anybody else,” Felix says, and if Chan wasn’t certain he says that to everyone he fucks, he’d probably do something embarrassing. As it is, his dick twitches anyway. He pets over Felix’s prostate, so familiar now with his body that he doesn’t even have to search around for it. Felix shudders, muscles in his back tensing up. “Yeah, right there.”

“Here?” Chan massages over it meanly, pressing kisses to Felix’s spine and listening to him whine.

“Too much, Chan, gonna come again,” he protests, trying and failing to escape the sensation by shifting his hips. “Wanna come on your cock.”

That gets Chan to relent. “Fine,” he says softly. “Almost there.”

He finishes opening Felix up quickly, then pulls his fingers out and runs them under the scalding water for just a second to get them clean enough to open the condom packet without slipping. He rolls it on, adding another pump of lube for good measure, and then positions himself behind Felix.

“Put it in,” Felix demands the instant he hesitates. “I’m ready. And if I’m not, and I bleed, we can wash it all away.”

Chan doesn’t need him to say it again. He pushes past his puckered entrance and slides into the sweet warmth. Felix is tight around him like a vice, and Chan only gets halfway before he has to stop. “Shit,” he murmurs. “A little too impatient.”

“Keep going,” Felix insists. “I can take it.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Chan says, but he does try to push in a little more, anyway. It works, sort of, and slowly, he manages to sink in the rest of the way. Both of them let out deep sighs when he finally bottoms out, pressed close to Felix’s body, so close he’s got Felix’s trapped against the wall.

“Fu-u-uck,” Felix moans. “I’m gonna explode. You feel so big, Chan. I think I can feel you in my tummy, against the wall. Feel like ‘m getting split open.”

Chan isn’t sure about that, but the idea makes him grit out a moan nonetheless. “Guess I should spend less time on prep more often,” he manages. “So tight, baby. Feel nice ’n’ full?”

“God, yeah,” Felix breathes. “Fuck, it’s like I can feel you everywhere.” His fingers catch on the grout between the tiles but slip down the wall all the same. 

“Give you a second before I move,” Chan mumbles. “Don’t wanna do some real damage.”

“Mm, kinda want you to,” Felix whimpers. “Ruin my body, daddy, I want it.”

“Fuck, babygirl,” Chan groans. “Want me to make it hurt?”

“Yes.” The word is a breath sucked in between bared teeth. “Please.”

Chan draws his hips back excruciatingly slow, letting Felix whimper for him for a second before pushing back in, fast and hard. The force of it punches a weak moan out of Felix’s chest. “Like that?” Chan pants, doing it again, legs shaking from the exertion and the delicious drag of his cock against Felix’s walls. “Fuck, you’re so tight, feels so good.”

Felix only sobs out a moan, the sound garbled by the echoes it makes and his slack jaw. Chan spreads a hand between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the wall and using his other hand to grip his hip so he has nowhere to go. Felix slumps against the tile, pink tongue just visible over his bottom teeth, eyes drooping shut. Chan hears himself grunt, something low in the chest, gravelly, reverberating around them. He slams his hips forward with every stroke, rough and mean like Felix begged for. Every movement sends spikes of arousal dancing under Chan’s skin, almost painful with how good it feels. Felix’s body loosens around him, but even then there’s hardly enough room, and Chan’s pretty sure that if he’d used even one less drop of lube that this wouldn’t be working. 

But it’s what Felix asked for, and as Chan looks at him, he knows he couldn’t stop. Felix’s face is twisted into a beautiful expression of bliss, eyebrows pinched and mouth open in a silent scream. His fingers rest gently against the wall, hardly supporting him. Chan can’t see, but he knows his cock is hard and leaking against his stomach, an angry red.

Chan can feel sweat beading on his forehead, partially from the steam, but he can’t reach the faucet dial now. They’re surrounded by a fine mist, and it kind of makes Chan a little dizzy. But he keeps going, fucking Felix ruthlessly, pounding him into the wall with soft groans as his abdomen tightens and tightens.

And then Felix is moaning, a low string of total incoherence, and he curls over himself, convulsing weakly, head disappearing between his shoulders and hands scrabbling at the tile above them. “Daddy, daddy, yes,” Chan thinks he hears him babble as he begins to still.

“Can you last a little longer, babygirl?” Chan asks, his voice rough.

“Yes,” comes Felix’s voice, his head still out of sight. “But daddy, hurts.”

His voice is wobbly, small and pitiful, and Chan knows the face he’s making. He’s sure he’s crying, cute little nose all red and cheeks splotchy. “So good for me, so patient,” Chan soothes breathlessly. He thrusts, shallow, a few more times as the hot pleasure takes over his body at last, making his legs shake. He comes deep inside Felix, hips pressed to his ass, head tipped back and hands with a punishing grip on his waist.

They catch their breath. Chan can hardly hear anything over the soft roar of the water. After a moment, he pulls out, almost stumbling backwards to turn the temperature back to something a little more bearable, rolling the condom off with unsteady hands before going back to check on Felix.

Felix is still bent over at the waist, leaning on the wall for support, forearm braced against the tile and face hidden in the crook of his elbow. Chan looks closer and sees pinkish-red at his entrance. Blood and lube.

“Oh, shit, oh fuck, Felix, I’m so sorry,” Chan stutters, setting the condom gingerly on one of the shelves and hurrying to him. He pets down his back, wondering how painful it would be if he tried to wash him clean. “Didn’t mean to actually hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Felix looks up, dazed. “What are you talking about?” he mumbles.

“You—you’re bleeding,” Chan says helplessly with a vague gesture. 

Felix just smiles, lazy and undisturbed. “I said I wanted it,” he says, tone serene and level. He peels himself off the wall, straightening as he goes, turning and wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders. “Mm, it felt good. So good, Chan, I haven’t come that hard in so long. Don’t be sorry. I don’t mind a little blood.”

“Jesus,” Chan says weakly, catching him and holding him close. “I still feel bad. Let me take care of it, okay? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Chan cleans him out tenderly, pressing apologetic kisses to his low back and the swell of his asscheeks. Felix makes little hurt noises, but there’s just as much pleasure in his voice as there is pain, so Chan keeps going until the water runs clear. If Felix liked it—then Chan has to admit it’s a little hot. Still, a sort of prickling guilt settles under his skin. His memory of those moments feels almost blurry. He isn’t quite sure what came over him—just that Felix asked, and Chan, like always, said yes. 

At last, they turn off the water. Chan collects their mess, tossing the used condom and its wrapper in the trash and setting the lube on the counter. He dries both him and Felix off, then pulls on his underwear from before while Felix goes out into his room to find himself something to wear. Chan follows slowly, placing his clothes on Felix’s desk before joining him in bed.

Felix curls into his side, pressing sweet, openmouthed kisses to his chest. “Chan,” he says, soft and dreamy. “Thank you.”

“For nearly sending you to the ER?” Chan asks wearily. 

Felix giggles. “I liked it,” he says. “Felt so good. And you always treat me so nice after.”

Chan kisses the top of his head. “Of course I do,” he murmurs. “Least I can do after taking you apart is to put you back together.”

Felix giggles again, and they lapse into silence. Chan listens to Felix breathe–deep, measured, sated. He glances out the window, stroking Felix’s back absently. The sun is bright on the gardens below, a perfect day, almost unreal.

Finally, Felix speaks. “Chan?” There’s something strange in his voice, quivering and vulnerable. Chan blinks, suddenly curious and afraid all at once.

“Yeah?” he replies.

“Do you—?” Felix cuts himself off, his voice wavering still. He’s silent for a few long moments while Chan waits, scarcely breathing. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He can feel Felix’s against his chest.

“What?” he asks, after a minute has passed and Felix still hasn’t said anything.

He can feel Felix deflate, and the tension is gone. When he speaks, his voice is slow and sleepy again. “Do you think you really can come visit me at school?”

Chan lets out a breath. Whatever Felix wanted to say, this isn’t it. But he won’t push. He knows that won’t get him anywhere. “Yeah,” he says softly, brushing some of Felix’s hair back before it falls into his eyes. He looks down at him, this terrible, beautiful boy. He’s not a monster, Chan thinks. He’s not even really spoiled, or at least that’s not why he acts the way he does. He’s just lonely. Maya’s voice plays in his head. He’s just really sad. And Chan still doesn’t know why. But he does know that whether Felix ever tells him or not, he’ll be here. “Of course, I’ll come visit,” he says. “Just say the word. I’ll come.”

Felix makes a happy noise, snuggling closer. Chan tightens his hold on him, feeling his pretty, lithe body under his arms. 

His life, he knows, will be in three parts, now and forever. Before I met you, he thinks. When I had you. And after you leave. How cruel, he thinks, that the most difficult part of the three will also be the longest.

[jyp-priestess]

Stage Name: Priestess

Korean Name: Lee Haneul [이하늘]

Birth Name: Li Ling [李铃]

English Name: Belladonna Marie Li

Nicknames: Eullie(mainly Chan and Skz), Bella, Bell, Peacock, Angel, JYPE’s self-produced all-rounder soloist, 4th gen soloist queen, Stray Kids’ mom, Mom of JYPE

Birthday: May 28th, 1999

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Fan name: Little Bells/Bells/Followers(joke)

Blood Type: A

MBTI: ESFJ-A

Representative Animal: Peacock 🦚

Nationality: Chinese

Ethnicity: Chinese

Languages: Mandarin, English, Korean, Fuzhou dialect (fluent)/Japanese, Cantonese, Thai (conversational)

Body Modifications: 2 lobes (1 on each ear), transverse lobe on left, 1 helix on right

Tattoos: Two sets of angel wings on her back, a peacock feather around her right wrist, little doodles can be found cascading down her left leg (designed by Chan)

— Her official introduction is, “Hello! I am Priestess, I hope to make good memories with everyone!”

— Born in Shanghai, China

— She was 14 when she graduated, having skipped grades and done summer programs, all to pursue her dream of music in Korea

— Her maternal grandparents own a farm in the more rural parts of Fuzhou province, where her family comes from

— Her paternal grandparents moved and have lived in Korea since she was 12

— She lived in Amsterdam, New York from the age of 6-9

— She owned numerous pets growing up, but the ones that have lasted are two cockatoos named Hyacinth and Daffodil, a pomeranian named Plum, and a cocker spaniel named Magnolia who she brought to Korea when she moved into her home in late 2019.

— She has a permanent residency in Korea

— Haneul was a trainee at YG for a year, transferred to SM, and then got hired and transferred to JYP two years after

— Haneul absolutely adores her dongsaengs, she spoils them rotten

— Haneul is particularly close with 3RACHA due to them also being producers, she’s also close friends with many producers and producer-idols due to the nature of her job

— She hates neon colors, and heavily believes they look horrendous on her

— Favorite color is lavender

— Has a poor spice tolerance, but it’s better than Chan’s

— Her hobbies/pastimes include scrapbooking, reading books, sketching, watching reality shows, cooking/baking, doing TikTok challenges, and producing

— She doesn’t have a particular favorite food as she’s always willing to try new ones, but she’d always be down for sweet tang yuan and scallion pancakes

— She owns a lot of albums, photo cards, posters, photo books, you name it. A vast majority of them are signed, and a bulk of them are K-pop

— Aside from k-pop merchandise, her other large collection is stationary

— She has won numerous medals from figure skating, gymnastics, and dance competitions. However, despite her renown reputation for singing she only achieved awards when she debuted

— She played the harp and violin from a young age all the way into high school, her passion for music has never faltered since she was young

— A relentless busy body who likes deadlines so then she could have all the time in the world to relax after

[vcrnons]

DINO 'WAIT' Official MV.

[jeongwife]

admin lily, what r u doing to me?????? 😭😭😭😭😭😭 i've finally somewhat recovered from shuarot, only for chanrot to start happening???? 😭😭😭😭 boyfie chan is a whole concept 😵🧎‍♀️ I AM ON MY KNEES, LEE CHAN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

PLS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 oops </3 so sorry anon </3 i think our blog’s brand is a neverending rotation of shuarot and chanrot 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ welcome to the chanrot bestie i am in constant suffering and pain bc of this man 💔💔💔💔 literally no bias has ever had this effect on me and i thought i was already down bad with my other biases ;-;

— lily who welcomes you to the chanrot </3

[blu-joons]

When You Give Him Silent Treatment ~ Stray Kids Reaction

Bang Chan:

Your eyes shut as you took a deep breath, with Chan following you everywhere it felt almost as if you had no escape to get away and get the peace and quiet you needed.

“I’m not budging,” Chan warned you, hearing your sharp intake of breath.

Your shoulders shrugged, deciding to still stay quiet with Chan hovering around you, knowing that he could be stubborn if he wanted to be.

He wasn’t expecting you to be quiet so blunt with him, sure that it would only take a few moments to wear you down.

“Can we just stop these games now?”

Your head shook back at Chan, brushing past him with your shoulder as you tried to get around him to carry on what you were doing.

“Y/N,” Chan called out, reaching back to try and take a hold of your hand and pull you back to him, but you quickly shook him off, confident that you could carry things on even longer.

You knew too that how stubborn you had chosen to be had annoyed Chan even more, something that satisfied you greatly.

“Fine, I guess we’ll enjoy the silence even longer.”

Lee Know:

A satisfied smile appeared on Minho’s face as he watched bring the box in from your car, sniggering at the tiny pieces the new unit that you had purchased was in.

“Need a hand?” He immediately asked, hoping that it would break the ice.

You weren’t as easy as Minho thought you were though, stubbornly starting the job, confident that you could manage all by yourself.

As you started building, Minho looked nowhere else but at you, picking up on every moment of confusion that you had.

“I can tell you the answer you know.”

You managed to get most of the way through the build, but as the instructions began to confuse you, frustration set in.

“Y/N, I’m here,” Minho warned you as he heard you sigh, shuffling a little closer towards you from where he sat on the sofa, “all you have to do is say and I’ll help you out with this.”

You knew that two minds were better than one, and as one of the shelves dropped, you were left with no other choice.

“Alright, can you come and help me, please?”

Changbin:

The tension in the room was horrendous between you both, you were still mad at him, and he was quickly getting mad at you as you refused to say a word to Changbin.

“Is this really how it’s going to be?” He called out from across the room.

Your shoulders shrugged in reply to him, you didn’t care what he did, all you wanted to do was try and block him out for a while.

He gave you a moment to respond, but when you stayed quiet, Changbin was left with no other option but to sigh.

“I guess we can both be quiet then.”

It started off pretty well, the two of you moved around the house whilst staying out of each other’s way without too much trouble.

But whilst you coped, Changbin definitely didn’t. Several moments passed when he wanted to talk to you, having to remember that he couldn’t, deciding to stick to his guns.

Almost an hour passed, but the need to talk to you was too strong for him, admiring how silent you were in the process.

“This is stupid, can we just talk again now?”

Hyunjin:

His eyes lit up as you returned home, Hyunjin smiled widely across at you, hoping that finally his silent treatment would come to an end after you’d spent time away.

“How was work?” He immediately asked, hoping to kickstart the conversation.

However, when just a nod of the head came from you, he knew that it was going to take more than that to get you speaking again.

A sigh came from you as you closed the door and walked through the house, with your eyes only looking at him momentarily.

“Y/N, is this just going to be forever?”

You chose to ignore Hyunjin’s question, knowing that unless he admitted that he was wrong, you weren’t going to start talking.

“Y/N, this is stupid,” he added, letting you know just how desperate he was for you to sit down with him so that things could go back to how they normally were all over again.

He wished that he knew how you felt, wished he knew that all he really needed to actually do was just say sorry to you.

“I guess silent is how it’s going to be then.”

Han:

Your hand swatted at your sides once again as Jisung poked against you, hoping that his tactic of not leaving your side would be enough to get you to finally talk to him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reminded you as you hit his hands away again.

Your eyes rolled with a shake of your head, as annoying as he was, you knew that you were annoying him more by not saying a word.

The tickles and the pokes were things that you were used to, Jisung did it to you frequently, so you knew how to ride it out.

“How much longer does this go on for?”

You stayed staring away from Jisung as his pleading eyes looked across at you, being driven insane by the weird silence between you.

“Y/N, I know that you want to talk to me,” Jisung tried to tell you, but your head shook back at him, confident that you could carry it on at least until the end of the day, and beyond.

You knew that beside you Jisung underestimated you, usually you were quick to convince, but this time you were stubborn.

“I know that you’ll start talking soon.”

Felix:

Your heart sunk slightly as you walked up the stairs, hearing Felix’s voice on the other side of the door as he sat on the phone, deciding to stop and lean against it to listen some more.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you heard him say, the upset clear in his voice.

You tried your best to peer through the small gap in the door, watching on as he brushed his hand through his hair and over his face.

The more you watched him, the more you could tell that he was snuffling, watching as his shoulders rose and fell several times.

“I’ve tried, she just won’t talk.”

A soft sigh came from you as you realised that it was you that he was talking about, relying on his friends to solve the situation.

Whilst you had wanted to hurt Felix and let him know that he had upset you, leaving him in tears was the last thing you wanted, not realising how much your silence was getting to him.

After a few moments, you watched him hang up the phone before knocking on the door, slowly peering around.

“I think maybe we should have a chat now.”

Seungmin:

As his voice continued to follow you around, Seungmin grated on you more and more. You’d impressed yourself with how quiet you’d been, but quickly he was driving you up the wall.

“Y/N, talk to me,” Seungmin told you again, making sure to stretch out every sound.

Your head snapped around, even taking Seungmin by surprise by how quickly you looked. “What?” Was all that you asked him with a sigh.

It was all that he needed though as a smile appeared on his face. “I won,” he joked, raising his arms into the air.

“I can be quiet again instead.”

“No, no,” Seungmin hurriedly told you, dropping his hands back down to his sides, “I never want you to be quiet ever again.”

Your eyes rolled as he went back to talking normally again, “and I don’t want you to be such an idiot ever again,” you teased in response, catching his head nodding in agreement.

“I’ve learnt my lesson,” he assured you, “I’ve learnt that silent treatment isn’t the one for me either, it sucks.”

“I’ll remember that when you annoy me next time.”

I.N:

A sigh came from Jeongin as you walked out of the studio, everyone was staring across at him, no one quite knew what to say as they all tried to make sense of what was going on.

“Have you guys argued?” Chan eventually asked on behalf of all of the other boys.

Jeongin’s head nodded as he looked around at them all. “We’ve not spoken since mid-afternoon yesterday; it’s been horrible staying at her place.”

There was an awkwardness once again as the boys all looked to Chan to speak again. “Have you tried to sort it all out?”

“Y/N’s not interested yet.”

“You must’ve done something pretty bad to get her not talking to you,” Chan frowned, “I mean I don’t think I’ve ever seen Y/N mad.”

A slow nod of the head came from Jeongin, “I admit that I was at fault, but I’ve tried so hard to talk to her and she’s just not interest. I’m running out of options for what to do.”

“Maybe you’ve just got to wait it out,” Chan suggested, “give Y/N some time and she’ll eventually come to you.”

“You’re right, it’s just a waiting game.”

---

Masterlist

[aiendiee]

skz t-word headcannons!!

how i imagine skz as lees/lers etc etc this is a series!! each member at a time!! chan | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

Lee know

ahaha help writing this is giving me the major flusterings

skz's resident tword monster

i'd say he's about 85% ler, 15% lee defo

remember when i said don't fuck around with chan too much?

well haha

you don't fuck around with minho

at all

he will wreck you without mercy- do not provoke this man too much

ofc, he's vv respectful of your boundaries

all of them are!!

will be caught tickling hyunjin,, han and jeongin mostly :3

absolutely amazing horrendous teaser

is a master at it

"cootchie cootchie coo is such a nice phrase! we should say it more!! cootchie cootchie coo~"

- direct quote from lee know himself

also a provocative shit

he's a little,, wEIrd, per se

he'll behave like a bratty lee, and then the moment you have your guard down,, BAM

he'll flip the switch on you, wrecking YOU instead

BUUUUUUT

you guessed it folks!!

he is also a Lee!!

[get it, LEE know, coz he's LEE kn- i'll stop now]

gets teased immensely for having his surname as lee

"it's fate, hyuHAHAHAHNG-"

- direct quote from han jisung as minho proceeded to tickle the absolute batshit outta him

rip 😔✊

anyways

lee! minho is kinda rare tho ngl

[but at the same time, it's always there coz it's LE- i'll stop fr now.]

but he's so absolutely adorable as well

he'll mostly be tickled by chan,, followed by changbin ig 😟😟

I JUST LOVE THE IDEA OF HYUNG LINE TICKLE FIGHTS, OK-

anyways

a h e m

he's also one of skz's most ticklish members

i'm guessing his worst spot is basically like his entire midriff area?? no idea vro at his point he's like a walking tword spot to me

overall,, evil ler, loud yet adorable lee <3

ong i'm on a roll now B)

[soobnny]

for you my dear 🌱, thanks for letting me join late 🥹💔

HELLO !!!!! it is ok no problem at all >:)))

this is me gushing about ur boxer lee know fic i’m still so down on my knees Horrendous for that fic and just the concept of boxer lee know and it doesn’t help that i ltrly get to have a Peek of that content with their recent VIDEOS .. that one where he bites the bandage thing in his hand oh my god goodbye. u wrote that so so well too like the word choice and the flow and Chan’s silly role like help me actually i need help i’m insane

btw my hunch tells me u’ll be bffs with hyunjin, felix and …. sunghoon. omg can i be part of ur little friend group please ?? 😍 no but fr like i think u’ll be closest to hyunjin u’ll probably tell him ur Secrets. it could’ve been felix but u guys r going thru the best friends to lovers slow burn rn so Hyunjin is the obligatory bff who helps u in ur mutual pining and in getting together the 2 idiots. sunghoon is the comedic relief character who is just as stupid as u and Felix but is always first on board with hyunjin’s stupid antics and strategies. OVERALL ur friendship will be a lot of like movie nights and cooking and baking and quiet conversations and PHOTOSHOOTS !!!!!!

[renjuseyo]

Can I request a Dino x male reader where they’ve been in a relationship for 3 years but the school doesn’t know since Dino is a jock and reader is chubby. Dino wants their relationship to be known but reader is insecure. Dino comforts and reassures the reader. You can decide the ending :].

insecure ; dino

group: seventeen

pairing: lee chan / reader (male)

synopsis: you and chan have been dating for three years. he wants to make your relationship public, but you’re insecure.

genre: angst, fluff

warning: body image issues, bullying, explicit language

i would like to apologize for not posting any fics in so long! ^^" i hope i delved into this topic as realistically as possible. i honestly lost inspiration for this, but it's been sitting in my drafts for so long so i just worked my way through. i'm sorry for this mess :( that aside, feedback is appreciated!

"say, (name)-ssi, what do you say about being my gym buddy? we can exercise together," chimes yoon taeho one thursday afternoon.

you look up from your notebook, unimpressed. despite being your senior, yoon taeho has a notorious reputation for his crude remarks. where his terrible attitude came from, no one knows. you once caught him throwing out all insults imaginable at a boy from your chemistry class, simply because he had accidentally spilled his water on him.

you had marched straight up to the duo, looked taeho in the eyes, and stepped on his toes as hard as you could. that was the first time you two met.

the memory nearly makes you laugh, especially since he hadn't expected a bystander to step in. but even when you've gotten on his bad side, he still pesters you through an overly sweet facade, like now.

before you can ask why, he scans your sitting frame, making sure you see the way he winces. "i've been noticing that you've been putting on some weight lately! it's not healthy, you know," he innocently explains.

your eye twitches.

you aren't unfamiliar with mean comments like his. although they aren't so excessive that you're being thrown into a garbage bin, the malice is obvious in their words no matter how subtle they try to be. mirroring his smile, you set your pencil down and lean towards him, cupping your cheeks. "say, taeho-ssi, what do you say about being my study buddy? we can study together," you mimic.

he shoots you a quizzical look, but you don't give him the chance to ask, because you follow up with, "i've been noticing that you've been slacking in all of your classes! it's not good for your gpa, considering how you always brag about your plans to enroll in prestigious universities."

his jaw drops in shock before quickly contorting to one of offense. but your smile is unwavering as you continue, "i know it's hard, especially with your microscopic brain cells, horrible work ethic, horrendous personality... oh, i'm rambling aren't i? but despite all of your flaws - your many, many flaws - i know you can still do it!"

by the time you lean back in your seat, smile still intact, his face is red with fury. from your peripheral vision, you see your friends seungkwan and yena standing by the door. gathering your stuff, you shoot taeho one last smile. "for a homophobe, isn't it pretty gay to be checking me out all of the time?" his jaw practically hits the floor now, but all you do is throw up a thumbs up. "gotta run! i have more productive things to do than talking to brain dead assholes."

you approach your friends with a smile. peering over your shoulder, seungkwan shudders in disgust. "is that asshole still bothering you? i swear, he needs to get a life."

waving a dismissive hand, you shrug. "his insults are elementary. i've heard worse."

yena winces. "that's... a little sad."

you exit the classroom, walking into the hallway. you're about to respond with a witty remark when you hear loud laughter from the other end of the hallway. turning your head, you watch as students lined against the walls of the hallway pause to gape at the small group in awe. the group consists of kim mingyu, xu minghao, hansol chwe, and lee chan. the popular jocks, if you will.

chan is laughing at something that mingyu said when he turns and makes eye contact with you. you're both staring at each other from afar, suddenly tuning out of your conversations with your friends.

it isn't until yena playfully slaps your shoulder that you're pulled out of your staring contest. "why'd you stop?" she asks.

before you can answer her question, seungkwan looks over your shoulder, following your line of vision. "ah, are you staring at them over there?" he throws an arm over your shoulder, sighing. luckily he doesn't notice that you've zeroed in on one person in particular. "it's okay, i understand the appeal of unattainable men, too."

yena rolls her eyes, flicking his forehead. "what happened to your monologue about self confidence?"

"have you seen high school musical? you've seen what happens when different cliques intermingle together."

she slaps an exasperated hand against her face. "you and your corny disney movies."

"hey! what do you mean corny disney movies?! i will not let you disrespect sharpay like that!"

as they continue bickering, they pull you away from that end of the hallway and towards the stairwell. even as you're about to head down the steps, your gaze lingers on chan, and you can see his gaze on you, too.

you, seungkwan, and yena have been an inseparable trio since elementary school. all of you have different accounts of how your friendship blossomed, but the one thing all three of you can agree on is that your mutual love for girl groups sealed the deal. you three are so close that there are barely any secrets within your trio.

well, aside from two that you keep from them.

at your school, there are several cliques, but the ones that most of the student body deems as the most popular is the group of jocks that consists of mingyu, minghao, hansol, and chan. it's no surprise, considering how the group is comprised of a mix of visuals and great personalities. almost everyone you talked to has had at least a small crush on one (or all) of them. well, except for yena, but that's because of her crush on their underclassman yuri. they're friendly to everyone they meet, but from what you can tell, they really only have each other.

well, aside from chan. because he has you.

and that's your first secret: your friendship with chan.

you and chan have been classmates and neighbors since elementary school. despite this, you had never talked to him until one day during the seventh grade, when he kicked a soccer ball straight through your bedroom window. to this day, you still don’t know how he kicked it so high up. but oddly enough, the punctured soccer ball and shattered window marked the beginning of a friendship. it's a little hard to hide from your friends, considering how chan spams your phone with memes and texts at any given opportunity, but through sheer luck, your friends are oblivious, only knowing him as your next door neighbor.

your second secret is your relationship with chan.

befriending him is already odd enough. who would've thought you'd be his boyfriend, too?

your relationship with chan isn't like one straight out of a fairy tale, but it's heart-fluttering and comfortable, like any relationship should be. but despite how perfect and amazing it may be, it's something you two have kept under wraps for three years, mostly because you know it isn't one that would be kindly looked upon.

if you're being honest, you never would've thought about befriending him, much less dating him. although he's an absolute dork, you both stand on opposite sides of the social spectrum. while you're the quiet wallflower who, unfortunately, is the target of unwanted teasing, chan is the shining star of the dance team who basks in the limelight. high school can be a harsh time during one's youth, so hanging out with someone outside of your clique would draw for unnecessary attention. or as seungkwan would say, a scene straight out of high school musical.

personally, you think it's ridiculous, being categorized by cliques. but you're already ostracized for simply being a wallflower and looking different. you wouldn't want chan to undergo similar pain, either.

when chan had texted you, suggesting you two have your next date at a amusement park he had tickets for on the weekend, you were both nervous and excited. amusement parks always bring out the child in you as you hop onto all of the rides possible, radiating with joy. but you were also nervous about the location, since it's a hot spot among your classmates. still, chan had reasoned that weekends were always crowded, so the chance of being seen were fairly slim. so eventually you had accepted, and now here you two are.

the rides on the park leave you two breathless, but whereas you're breathless from excitement, chan's breathless from fear. with his low tolerance in mind, you decide to take a break, sitting on a park bench as you sip on sodas and munch on churros. so far, your date had been going quite smoothly. you're planning what to do next when chan pipes up, breaking the silence.

"are you ashamed of me?"

chan's comment is short but unanticipated, and sounds many alarms in your head. you frown, shifting yourself to face him. "of course not, why would you say that? did i do something to indicate that?"

he shrugs, but you can tell he's bothered by the implications his statement comes with. "it's not that, it's just... why don't you want our relationship to be known?" he asks.

come to think of it, of the three years since you've been dating, chan never once asked why you were so keen on keeping your relationship a secret. before you can open your mouth, he explains, "i've been thinking about this for a while now, but i don't want to hide anymore. especially since i have to hide my wonderful boyfriend from the boys and put up with them trying to set me up on blind dates. i was wondering, were you hiding it because you were ashamed of me?"

your eyes widen as you scramble to explain. "that's not it, i promise."

"then why? it's been three years, (name), and you haven't told me anything."

you can hear the dissatisfaction in his voice, and it does nothing to calm the nervous beating of your heart. the appeal your food had suddenly vanishes, only making you feel queasy. "can we not do this here? please?" you ask, voice laced with desperation. while this is a conversation you'd like to avoid altogether, you'd rather do it somewhere secluded, as opposed to a public spot like here.

"then when? when can we be talk about this?" he asks, voice tense. he no longer looks like he's enjoying himself, all giddiness from the amusement park gone.

you sigh, shaking your head. since neither of you seem to be in the mood to go back and enjoy yourselves, you explain, "i'd rather not talk about our relationship so openly. if we're going to talk, we do it at my place."

he doesn't oppose, instead silently trailing after you as you head to your house.

thankfully your parents are out for work, so you two have the entire house to yourselves. once you've shut the door behind you, you turn to face chan, whose arms are defensively crossed over his chest. he's silently awaiting your response, which only makes the hairs on your arms stand. chan is never this quiet unless he's frustrated.

you sigh, taking a few deep breaths to collect your thoughts. "i'm scared." he raises an eyebrow and looks like he's going to interrupt, but you continue, "what will others think? i'm not exactly what people picture when they think of your ideal type."

"who cares what others think? as long as we're both happy, that's all that matters."

you laugh, dry and sarcastic. "that's easy for you to say. you've been showered with praise all your life, and everyone loves you. you can say and do what you want and come out unscathed, but me? they'll bat your eyes at you, all pretty and polite, but the moment i'm alone, i'll just get more shit than i already do."

you had made it a point to not tell chan about the bullying in fear of worrying him, but now that you're revealing your reasons as to why you two shouldn't go public, there's no reason to hide it anymore. his eyes widen in shock before contorting to one of betrayal. "you-"

"you're the shining star of the dance team, the boy that everyone just adores. i'm this antisocial introvert who only has two friends, and i'm built like a snickers bar. even in private, i question if i'm good enough for you. but if we put things out in the open, i know for sure that i'm not the only one who's going to criticize my self worth."

he looks upset, but you're not sure if it's because of your differing views or your sudden revelation. "if people have been bullying you, why didn't you tell me? i could've at least helped ease the pain."

you think about people like yoon taeho, who would criticize just about anyone, even if it's someone like chan. people like him are brain dead assholes, so his words rarely upset you. but you know that once things are out in the open, people like him will increase. "it's one thing, dealing with it by myself. but i'm not going to let you get dragged into my problems."

"you're not dragging me to any problems. none of this is even your fault. i'm your boyfriend, (name). what kind would i be if i just let people push you around without doing anything?"

no one wants to date someone who simply looks the other way when they're in trouble, but you'd rather shoulder all of your pain than share it with chan. "the thing is, it's easy like this, to pretend we don't know each other. but- to go public!" you laugh in disbelief, but he doesn't reciprocate the motion. "this is going to affect us both, channie. people are ruthless. i don't-" you bite your lip in frustration. "i don't want to dim your light."

"why do you get to dictate how i'll feel? i just want to hold your hand and kiss you in public, and go on dates without worrying about our classmates and gush about you to the guys. what's wrong with that?"

you feel like pulling your hair out of frustration. "can you not try to understand my point of view? do you think the little shits at school are simply going to accept that the school icon is dating..." you pause, all of the insults you've heard in your life suddenly echoing inside your brain. "someone like me?"

"there's nothing wrong with you, (name). you're so much than what others think. as long as i like you, who cares? why don't you get that?"

"you don't understand, channie," you begin. you don't realize that you've gotten emotional until you hear your voice waver, but your eyes remain firm. "i tell myself that i don't care, but in reality i care so much. it's so dumb, seeking validation, but what can i do? it's hard enough, living in this body. you've been there for me whenever i've had my episodes where i wanted nothing more than to crawl out of my skin. i'm not a model with a sculpted six-pack like the guys at our school, nor am i this soft, wholesome boy that people adore. i'm reminded of this enough, being at school. it's not that i listen to the shit that the mindless assholes at school say, but years of going through this... it piles up."

his eyes that were flaring with frustration have softened after hearing you speak, and he no longer looks tense. "(name)..."

he takes a step towards you, but you instinctively take one back. "i act like it doesn't affect me, because i'd rather pretend to be confident than conform to the likes of the bullies at our school. i at least have an ounce of respect for myself. but when it comes to you... i'm myself in my purest form when i'm with you - well, and with seungkwan and yena. i have a lot of insecurities, but they're all gone when i'm with you, even for a moment. but i'm terrified that if people find out, this comfort that i have will disappear, and suddenly i'll have all of these eyes analyzing my move, wondering if i'm good enough for you. because everyone only wants the best for you, the school icon. i'll admit it, i question my worth sometimes, too. but to also have a bunch of outsiders question it... it fucks with your head."

by the time you finish your tangent, you can hear your blood pumping in your ears and eyes pricking with tears. chan is stunned into silence, and judging from the way his eyes widen, you guess that he sees your glassy eyes. "i don't even want myself sometimes. why would you ever want me?"

although his expression has softened, he approaches you with a newfound urgency, as if he's afraid he'll lose you if he doesn't do something. his fingers ghost your shoulders as he implicitly asks to touch you, but from the way you move to the couch and curl in yourself, he opts to sit beside you instead. you stare at your knees with blurry eyes, willing the tears to go away. but the moment you start sniffling, aggressively wiping your tears away, you know it's no use. "i'm not going to say i understand, because as much as i try to empathize with you, i'll never truly get how you feel. but i'll try my best, okay? i'm always here for you, you know that."

"i know," you mumble, voice muffled.

"but you don't," he softly says, "because if you did, you wouldn't be fussing about if you're good enough for me or not. and i know my words alone won't help you understand just how much you mean to me, but (name) (last name), you're the only one i want. i fell for all of you, not just one part." he gently places an arm on your back, and breathes a sigh of relief when you melt into his touch. "i'll admit, i should've tried to be more understanding, and i'm sorry for that."

in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, you snort, wetly chuckling. "wow, what's this? this is the first time i've heard you apologize."

although you can't quite see his face, you can tell he's rolling his eyes. "you make me sound so bad. i own up to my mistakes."

"since when?"

"since now."

you can't help but laugh, tilting your head to look at him. there are tear stains and loose strands of hair on your face, and you can only imagine how gross you may look. but chan looks at you like you hold the world, eyes shimmering as he leans in to thumb away the tears. "my handsome, amazing boyfriend," he coos. "you deserve the whole world, and it's so saddening to hear about what you've gone through. but you're so, so strong. i'm so proud of you, and i love you no matter what. you are so much better than your insecurities and the hoard of idiots at our school. i'll tell you that every day until you believe it, too."

he scoots closer, raising an implicit eyebrow as he tentatively wraps an arm around you. when you nod, he brings you close, pressing the side of his head against yours. as much as the small voice in your head tells you that you don't deserve his warm touches, chan clings onto you as if he never wants to let go. his grounding presence is enough to quiet the voice, even if it's for a short while. "it's not like i want to hide forever. but... i'm not ready now. maybe when i'm more confident, we can try." you timidly loop your pinkies together, keeping him close. "i'm sorry, channie. if you had someone else, maybe you wouldn't have to worry-"

"hey," he interrupts, frowning. "what did i say earlier? i told you, you're the only one i want. and your worries have reason to them, so i understand. i'll wait until you're ready."

"...you're a pretty impatient person, channie. can you even withstand waiting without knowing when i'll be ready?" you ask, voice quiet.

"i'll wait for you," he simply repeats. "until you're happy and see just how beautiful you are, we can just keep things simple. we don't need to go big on pda." he pauses as if to collect his thoughts. "but... there's one thing i'd like to do. we don't have to do it if you're not comfortable, though."

"what is it?" you ask.

chan smiles, sheepish. "i want to tell my hyungs about us, if that's okay. i've known them since we were kids, and it doesn't feel right for me to lie about someone so important to me. they won't judge, but i just wanted to ask you in case you don't want me to."

his words make you think of seungkwan and yena, as well as the guilt that comes with lying to them. they tell you all of their secrets, no matter how dark or embarrassing, because they trust you. and it's not that you don't trust them - you would trust them with your life, even if they're a reckless bunch - but when you had started dating, you both had kept it a secret from everyone, even those as important to you as them. you suppose there's no harm in telling them, but...

as if he's read your mind, he squeezes your hand. "i know my friends won't judge, just like you know yours won't, either. but it's okay if you aren't ready now. i just thought i'd let you know."

after pondering his words for a few minutes, you shake your head with a small smile. "it's not that. i agree with you. you can tell them, i think they deserve that much, anyways. i think i'll just need more time before i tell seungkwan and yena, though."

he nods with a smile. "of course. anything for you."

you both stay close together for a while, reveling in the bliss of sorting out your feelings. although there are still many things about your relationship to discuss, you're glad he is open-minded about how you feel, and you make a note to do the same, too.

chan is the first to break the silence, flopping onto the couch. "all of this talking has made me tired. let's cuddle."

being in his embrace sounds wonderful and cozy, and you want nothing more than to do that. yet despite having been reassured by him, you still feel hesitant. seeing the subconscious frown on your lips, he opens his arms, gesturing you to come over. "are you just going to leave me hanging? come here, i'll even give you my hoodie," he innocently convinces.

this sly fox. chan always knows how much you like wearing his clothes; how dare he use it to his advantage! you glare at him, but it's void of its usual malice. "you can't do that. that's cheating."

"then come here~ i need my hugs from my warm, lovely boyfriend~"

you roll your eyes but comply anyways, laying down to slot yourself in his arms. despite how different you two are, chan feels like home, your solace when times get tough. no matter how many times you think about it, you always wonder how you got so lucky.

"i love you. i wonder how i got so lucky," he hums, thoughts matching yours.

perhaps it's because of how much energy you exerted at the amusement park, or how draining the insecurities and crying has made you. whatever the reason, you feel yourself grow groggy, falling into his embrace. "love you, too. thank you for staying by my side."

"anything for you."