#Skz reader

[uramakimochi]

me for the past week and i'm so fucking maddd

STOP👏TAGGING👏XREADER👏IF👏YOU👏USE👏AN👏OC👏NOBODY👏 FUCKING👏ASKED👏FOR👏THAT👏OKAY???

The wrong thing is not the fact that you write a story with an oc, no, that's not the real problem, really.

IT'S JUST THE FACT THAT YOU USE THE WRONG TAG SO YOU HOPE MORE PEOPLE READ YOUR STORY. BUT BELIEVE ME IT'S JUST FUCKING ANNOYING 'CAUSE WE AREN'T ABLE TO FIND THE RIGHT FICS IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS!!!

There are people who like to read more stories with ocs than reader inserts, so use the fucking right tag go reach that community and stop spamming your stories among ours.

I don't think you get it but, you know, the purpose of fanfics with reader insert is to make the reader imagine her/himself as the mc of the story. The best part of these fics is the fact that EVERYONE can be included in them.

SO WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN THEM BY MAKING THE MC A PERSON THAT LOOKS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE READER AND EVEN HAS A NAME THAT IS NOT THEIRS?

Not to be dramatic but i hate y'all.

And the fact that it's always the same fandoms and we all know who we're talking about...

[kkochigomi]

skz reacting to a member walking in on you guys

hyung line + HH | maknae line

(this is an F U to that anon, I'm doing yet another thing other than what I started)

warnings/tags; dubcon, gn!reader, sub!reader dom!member, voyeurism & exhibitionism, penetration, jerking to your fancam, riding, missionary, doggy, ass eating, masturbation, prone bone, usage of 'hyung', this was longer than intended, some members have longer portions which just happened to happen

hard hours are officially open until further notice!

It started with you being a backup dancer for one comeback, then goofing around with the members while rehearsing, to you hanging out with them regularly. There are a lot of people in and out of there, all of the friends they've garnered over the years. You're also friends with other idols, so it never occurred to you. You know, you with them.

For the guys, it was an unspoken rule to not fuck their best friends. At least, not in a heat of the moment kind of way. Just in general, not doing impulsive shit will fare better for anyone in the long run.

However, sometimes shit happens. That shit happens to be your most recent backup dancing gig. Let's go through what happens when a certain member caves first.

⦊ bang chan ⦉

When it comes to members you were close to considering doing, Chan was at the top. But not on purpose. It's your fucking friends. His friends too. Lord knows Jake cannot help calling Chan daddy and pretend he's a horned up suitor to piss him off. The image of being fucked by Chan has been practically forced into your mind. Not that it was impossible to imagine that. You and everyone recognized him as a very manly and dependable man which is popular among people attracted to masculine people. Daddy indeed.

being walked in on

I imagine it was heat of the moment between you two. There is no doubt in my mind that he was the most dedicated to upholding the status quo of the friend group. But after seeing you in that outfit doing those dance moves... well Chan didn't even know you could move like that. That your face was capable of those expressions. And what you were doing with your tongue-

No. Chan shouldn't be thinking this way. And he definitely shouldn't be masturbating to the video. Thanks to you being popular like no:ze, there was a cheeky little fancam to make Chan's bad habits a little easier to achieve. After that, he was too far gone. You got playfully flirty one night and sat in his lap while he was at his computer. When you felt it, you couldn't lie. You liked what you felt. The minute you push your ass back to start grinding he wraps his arms around your waist. He holds you there, stilling you as his heart started to beat faster.

"Are you sure about this?"

One yes later and you were bouncing on his cock in his computer chair, Chan trying desperately to keep it from rolling away with his feet firmly planted to the ground. He takes a moment to stop his roaming hands and turn the chair so the back was against the desk. Now you grinding forward on his cock has the chair repeatedly thudding against the desk.

Loudly.

"Hyung, what the hell is that?" Jeongin's voice is momentarily muffled until he pushes the door open. The realization is instant. And so is Chan's anger.

"What the f- close the door!" he shouts, clutching you close with one arm and pointing angrily with the other. Jeongin lags for a second, before he snaps out of it and slams the door shut. Both of you feel like your adrenaline is through the roof, so it takes you a second to realize that not only is he still hard, but he's bucking into you.

walking in

Jeongin abruptly cranked up the TV thirty minutes ago and it's starting to agitate Chan. He's not normally like this. He's a very mindful roommate, and usually Chan worries the TV isn't even loud enough for Jeongin himself to hear. So Chan isn't immediately angry with him and assumes the best.

The worst in this case would be Jeongin going through a rebellious phase in his mid-twenties. Not seeing clothes strewn about the living room, and not seeing Jeongin on the couch with his bare ass clenching as he thrusted into... you?

Since Jeongin caved first in this scenario, Chan is still in the pathetic perv phase. So seeing your face drenched in ecstasy just like you simulated on stage went right to his cock. You're the first to notice, jumping up and knocking your forehead against Jeongin's. Chan apologizes profusely for intruding (even though you both chose the living room) and for the boner he's not even sure either of you noticed.

⦊ Lee Minho ⦉

Messing around with Minho never actually occurred to you. He's like a cat in all the weird ways. When he comes in your room you're more focused on what he's gonna fucking knock over. But there are glimpses, it just took a while for you to store them in your mind correctly. Recently you've been compartmentalizing each moment where Minho was surprisingly sexy. Every smirk, lidded gaze, bite of his lip. It's starting to build up.

being walked in on

With you two, it was a slow burn. Minho didn't know just how similar both your thought processes were. He also slowly noticed things about you, long before the sexy choreo. He was playful with the idea. It didn't guilt him too much and he had fun teasing you and even more fun when you started teasing him back. It went from daring one to kiss the other to jokes about sleeping with each other to playful groping that the rest of the friend group found weird.

That all culminated in you calling Minho a pussy for ignoring yet another one of your infamous dares. At one point you were actually joking. Then it turned into you not minding if he did go through with it. And now it was an actual challenge. He accepts it.

He grabs your ass and pulls you into him. He takes in your dark eyes as he leans against the kitchen island.

"You want me to fuck you?" he asks with a cocked brow.

"I dare you." you whisper, a breath away from his lips.

"Ohoho... getting real slutty now. Show me how much of a slut you are. Do that thing you did with your tongue during Crave."

His hand creeps up your body as you obey his command. You watch in real time as his pupils dilate. After a soft peck you challenge him again and he wraps the hand creeping up your body around your throat. It was curtains after that.

He had you by the back of your neck, bent over the counter as he pounded into you. Slow, languid blows you felt in your gut. It was probably the squeaks pounded out of you that drew a curious Jisung to the kitchen.

"Oh- Hooooly shit!" Jisung drops his phone in shock, hands flying to his head. You and Minho are frantically yanking your bottoms up and Minho is quick to anger.

"Why are you just standing there?!" it was unreasonable, but Minho was embarrassed. He was no longer hard and no longer in the mood to your disappointment. Jisung had long since skittered away while you watch, slightly amused, as Minho paces with bright red cheeks.

walking in

Minho was already rattling off about how he was about to order some food and reminding Jisung to include the tax when he sent the money when he heard it. A wet noise he would soon realize was Jisung lapping at your asshole. You were settled into a deep arch, blissed out atop Jisung's bed while he did the thing you always told Minho to do when he pissed you off.

"Someone finally ate your ass," Minho projects, not even getting the second word out before Jisung is flopping to the floor and looking up at him in shock as his angry red cock peeks out of his zipper. You scramble to cover yourself, sporting a similar "deer-in-the-headlights" look until it hits you. That annoyance Minho is always happy to provide.

"Carry on!" he encourages with an impish laugh, offering a gesture with his phone to each of you before leaving you to it.

⦊ Seo Changbin ⦉

You and Changbin always joked about finding each other attractive. Well, you finding him attractive. You see, the bit is that Changbin would say something braggadocious and then flex dramatically and you would squeal like a fangirl. Sometimes you would squeeze his biceps and think to yourself holy shit. He and Chan had great physiques, but something about him made you want him to... I don't know...

being walked in on

Put you in a chokehold. You asked him one day, a segue from being genuinely impressed by his arms. It's something you always ask fellow dancers or any of your friends with muscular physiques. It's a joke, but when Changbin does it, there's something else at play.

There was an unbearably submissive quality to the way you danced in that performance that made Changbin want to mount you. He hates the thought, so he buries it. Having you squirm, helpless under the conditions you subjected yourself to, his desires become unearthed.

You let out a moan unintentionally and what happens next is completely in the heat of the moment.

You're getting rug burn on your knees from the two of you frantically bumping uglies on the couch and somehow making it onto the floor. You're prone on the carpet while Changbin straddles you from behind. He has his hands around your throat, his balls grazing against the tops of your thighs.

Incoherent pleas and grunts fill the room as he rolls his hips into you. Changbin is too focused to realize Hyunjin has not only peeked his head out of his room, but fully walked out to marvel the pile of desperation on the carpet. Not until a small, inquisitive 'huh' leaves Hyunjin's mouth.

Thankfully Changbin's head is out of the way when you pop yours up in surprise.

"H-Hyunjin," you yelp, unable to move much with Changbin still on top of you. Yeah, Changbin is surprised, but he's just as intrigued as Hyunjin seems to be. His presence didn't bother him much. Oh, and he has no intention of stopping.

"Are you gonna get out or watch or what?"

walking in

Changbin could just send this tiktok to Hyunjin via DMs... or he could just walk across the hall and show him. Plus, he wants to see his reaction and make sure he's actually watching.

"I can't trust you to watch this on your own-"

Changbin stops when moans grace his ears. Then he looks way from his phone to see all the motion happening on the bed. Hyunjin's face is buried in your neck and he has red hickies all over his shoulders. His hand is cupping your hip while he thrusts into you slowly.

Oh shit, Changbin thinks. But when your eyes snap open and Hyunjin raises up to his knees, he realizes he said it out loud. He just hopes neither of you saw his cock twitch.

⦊ Hwang Hyunjin ⦉

Just like Chan, Hyunjin's looks were very popular, so it was obvious you flirted with the idea of something more. It didn't help that Hyunjin had this inherently romantic aura to him. Especially with the long hair, a paint brush held in his mouth with smears of blue and yellow making a haphazard rendition of The Starry Night on his arms and clothes. Even with the buzz cut, there's something that screams a meet cute is destined to happen. And those eyes. He's not flirty or dangerous like Minho, he's attentive and soft. The way he looks at you when you speak makes you feel like the most special person in the world.

being walked in on

Hyunjin was very intentional. He set up what could be considered dates but also weren't too explicit in their connotation. Just two friends watching a movie while sipping on wine. And one of the friends peering over at the other with the intention of locking eyes. The little wine dates were dangerous. Wine made you flirty, everyone knew this. Even if it was just a little bit.

So with Hyunjin gazing at you with his elbow propped on the back of the couch, fully ignoring the movie, you decide 'fuck it'. You lean in as well, awaiting the culmination of all this YA fiction BS. So it happens naturally, the kiss, but it doesn't escalate. So Hyunjin is always the first to "cave" technically, but you haven't had sex with him, and the choreo hadn't come out yet. As of right now, you two have a hint of a pre-established romance.

You both felt comfortable not putting a label on it or being exclusive. Just little flirty kisses and fun somewhat dates. It was fun like that... it really was... but god were you sexy in that video. Cute pecks turn into longing kisses to groping to even dry humping on the couch. Hopefully the movies you two watch suck because you never watch them. You soon ditch the movies for kissing on his bed. The slow escalation is familiar to you by now, so you're not surprised when his hand slips under your shirt. What does surprise you is how hard he's getting, but it's a pleasant surprise. He strips all your clothes off and you do the same to him, taking turns peppering kisses all over each other's body.

Even the way Hyunjin fucks is romantic. It's not 'fucking' at all. He holds you like you're precious porcelain as he pushes into you, cupping your hip. You're so entranced by him, more than you've ever been. The moment he dips lower and start kissing up your neck, you throw your head back and drown in ecstasy.

You're so focused on how his hot skin presses into you with every thrust that you don't notice Changbin. It's only when you hear an 'oh shit' that your eyes fly open.

There stood Changbin, phone in hand, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. As Hyunjin leans back, his dick pulls out of you. It is definitely still hard... and you swear you see it twitch. He looks at Changbin, very much dazed from lust and unaffected by Changbin's presence.

walking in

Hyunjin has a propensity to find art in anything. Stopping to take a picture of a duck with it's baby posed perfectly in front of it, pointing out pleasing color schemes, and seeing certain positions people are placed in as a spark of inspiration. And he finds some scenes a lot more intriguing than most people. Hyunjin first hears grunts and random words from his room as soon as he pops his earphones off. He's pretty damn sure of what he's hearing, but who the hell is Changbin having sex with?

Hyunjin pops his head out and sure enough, Changbin is fucking someone from behind on the floor. When he sees you lift your head, he feels something bubble inside him. It isn't anger or jealousy. He doesn't pinpoint it until he feels heat brewing downstairs.

He walks closer, noticing little details like how your skin tone looks against Changbin's, the dynamics of the position, other artsy stuff that Hyunjin understands but I don't, and he enjoys the sight.

Huh, Hyunjin thinks, wanting to sit and watch the art unfolding on the living room carpet. Except he doesn't think it. He realizes this after your head shoots up and almost knocks Changbin's teeth out.

"H-Hyunjin!"

You're shocked, but only briefly. You're now focused on the look of utter captivation on Hyunjin's face.

"Are you gonna get out or watch or what?" Changbin asks through a laugh. Hyunjin shifts his weight to one leg as he thinks for a moment.

"If it's okay with you guys, I think I'll watch."

if you send an ask, I might even do a follow up blurb about a threesome including one of these pairings... I can't guarantee that a follow up will be gn because I suck at descriptions already and if I can't describe genitalia it'll be like cutting a limb off.

[felixbit]

orange peel theory

── flufftober day fourteen, masterlist tbd han jisung x gn!reader, w. 0.5k

It was a pretty average day, all things considered. You'd been home cleaning up and doing general chores. Your boyfriend had been out at work, but you didn't mind some alone time without him there to distract you from your tasks.

It was midday when you got a text from Felix. He'd sent you a TikTok with a message saying 'you should get jisung to do this'. Opening it, you found it awfully curious.

"The Orange Peel Theory: if your partner is willing to peel an orange for you without judgment, they care deeply and might be the one."

After a few minutes of consideration, off you went to the store to pick up some oranges. You'd been planning on going soon anyways, so you found it as good of an excuse as any.

The trip down to the store was nice, putting on Jisung's playlist. You didn't get everything you'd usually get from the store, wanting Jisung to be around to make sure you didn't forget anything. But, you grabbed a handful of fruits, including a bag of oranges.

You'd made it home and realized Jisung had already arrived. Smiling at him when you walked in the door, you waved. "Oh, didn't know you'd get here before me."

"Before you?" Jisung looked you up and down, noticing the bags of groceries and nodding, "Ah, yeah. Got done a little early today and thought I'd come home. What'd you pick up?"

"Oh, just a few things," You shrugged and placed the bags on a nearby counter top, "Not too much because you weren't out with me. But just some essentials since we were running low."

Jisung nodded, standing and walking over to you. He peered through the bags a little, inspecting and giving a little thumbs up of approval. "Good picks."

An idea popped into your head. You reached into the bag full of fruit, pulling out an average-sized orange. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna snack on one of these before dinner. Could you peel this for me?"

Without a second thought, Jisung reached over and took the orange from your hands. His fingers began to work in peeling it, looking up at you again. "What do we think for dinner tonight?"

You watched as he spoke to you, eyes only flitting down periodically to check and make sure he wasn't messing anything up. He didn't even acknowledge the request, just doing it without question. You felt your heart swell.

"I'm not really sure," You shrugged, trying to keep your voice nonchalant, "I picked up some things, but.. honestly, I don't really feel like cooking. Maybe we can go out and get a bite to eat?"

"Neither do I," Jisung nodded in agreement. He handed the peeled orange back to you, walking over to the trash can and tossing the peel in, "Do you want me to pick something?"

You watched as he walked over to the sink, giving his hands a quick wash before coming back over. It took you a second to remember to reply. "Yeah, that'd be great."

Jisung seemed to have picked up on you staring dumbfounded for a second and tilted his head, brows furrowing. "What? Did I say something?"

Knowing you were caught, you laughed. "No, you didn't say anything. Just.. you passed."

"Passed? Passed what?"

"The orange peel test," You smiled, popping a slice into your mouth and enjoying the sweet flavor.

[daengtokki]

part one // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: ~10k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: rough sex, manipulation, strangulation, blood, implied drugging, murder

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

[ ML— DEITY MASTERLIST ]

The smell of smoke reaches his nose, and the craving comes on so suddenly, and so strong…he hates this, not being able to control something so small. He doesn't have much control at all, if he thinks about it. He hasn't had any real control in years—just the illusion of it. The first chance Seungmin gets, he disappears into a convenience store, and he walks back out with a pack of cigarettes clenched in one hand. He bites down on a fresh book of matches as he bounces it against the heel of his palm, eyes still carefully scanning the streets as he unwraps the plastic and pops one between his lips.

The sound of the match against the striker strip is enough to calm his nerves, but the first slow drag quiets his mind and numbs the itch in his limbs. The part of his brain that doesn't shut up when it's time likes to smoke lately, it seems, so he listens. More of his illusion.

Just as he pulls in another lungful, you breeze past him, head down, eyes glued to your phone. Seungmin can see exactly what you're doing—looking at a map as you walk, probably a little lost, and you’re mumbling quietly. Scolding yourself, maybe, but taking your time and obviously trying to keep it together. He wonders just how lost you are, but he doesn't move right away…he’s smarter than that. That itch returns very quickly, despite the cigarette, and his legs shake a little with the anticipation of following behind. Lucky for him, you stop and duck under the awning for some shade, and probably to get your bearings.

He likes the way you look.

You feign confidence, and you really are doing a great job of fitting in and acting like you know where you are—where you need to go. If anyone else was nearby, they wouldn't even suspect you needed help. And you’re pretty. Seungmin thinks you probably don’t know that, not here, so out of your element. You are, though.

Just as he moves to approach you, you lift your gaze, and your eyes find his. Seungmin freezes for a moment, then slowly takes the cigarette from him lips. “Hello,” he smiles and turns away a little to blow out his smoke. “I’m sorry, I can…” he discards it, then turns back, hoping your eyes are still on him…

He was a little rushed this morning, his hair dryer broke, and he spilled an entire iced coffee on his way out the door. Going out today didn’t seem like the best idea, but he figured he would at least make the attempt, and try again tomorrow if he had to. Seungmin is very glad he tried today. You still look up at him with keen, hopeful eyes when he turns to face you again.

“…put this out.” He tries English—it’s the only western language he knows. “Do you need help reading your map?”

Still, you stare…silent. If you don’t speak English or Korean, he’s out of luck, and he’ll have to drag himself back home, alone, and crawl into bed until tomorrow.

“Yes…thank you”

He sighs internally, and smiles softly at you. Once again, his looks (and his fluent English) get him what he wants. Seungmin doubts you would have taken the help if that first look didn't get something moving in you. He could see it in your eyes. “Where are you headed? I might be more useful than that map.”

Still, you hesitate for a brief moment, “...my apartment. I took the bus, and I missed it coming back. But I think I’m almost there. I’m just a little anxious, and I’m being stupid…”

“No, you’re not. Have you been here long? In Seoul?”

“About a week”

“No, not stupid. What’s the address?”

/ / /

“Stay close, we can probably get the whole way across.” He looks back at you, and slows enough for you to catch up to his long strides. “No, maybe not,” he takes your wrist in his hand, and it’s unnecessary, because you stop with him. It’s a good start…the first touch. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you glance at him, and then to his hand wrapped around you, “I think I know where I’m at now.”

“You think?”

“I think”

“I’ll take you to your building. You don’t have to invite me up…promise.”

It’s another two blocks before you finally see it, and the sight of it is a relief. Seungmin can almost feel the tension leave your body as you approach it, but there’s a long moment of silence between you when you finally get there.

Eventually, you unfreeze yourself and speak,“thank you for your help…uh, what should I call you?”

“Thank you for letting me help. You can call me Seungmin.” He smiles shyly when he says his name.

“Seungmin, is it okay if do?”

“Do what?” He already knows what you’re getting at, but he cocks his head and bites his lip.

“Invite you up. I’m sure you have better things to do, though.”

Seungmin loves the flush in your cheeks when you ask. The nervous energy that left you returns, and it gets his blood pumping everywhere it needs to—his heartbeat jumps, and he hopes his cheeks pink up a little bit, too. “No, that’s been my best offer all day.” He knows he can’t do anything here, but this is also an unusual feeling—visiting the home of a potential victim. It's not necessary, and it's very personal...and it's a little bit awkward.

“This is cute.” Seungmin stands in one spot, and examines the tiny apartment. It’s simple, and still a little plain, but you’ve barely had time to settle. He can picture the twin size bed you’re sleeping on, and how the two of you would barely fit; the commotion you’d make…the mess. The thought sends a jolt of pleasure through him, and he feels himself getting hard as he watches you stare so intensely.

“What?” He smirks. You smile back, so Seungmin lets his grow a little wider.

“Do you want some coffee? You look like a coffee person.”

“I am, I would love some”

/ / /

“You’re a long way from home,” Seungmin says over the rim of his mug, casually scanning every part of you as he does—your bare feet shuffling on the area rug; your legs, easy to admire in the tight leggings you’re wearing; body sinking comfortably into the squishy couch. He sits up and turns himself toward you a little more. “May I ask why?”

“Work. But I think I’m very under-qualified for the position…I took it to get away from my old life, and my ex.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Bad breakup?”

“Bad enough…I’m sure things could’ve been worse”

If he can find out when the break-up happened, Seungmin can figure out just how vulnerable you still are. “If it was worth coming this far, I’m sure it was bad.” Reaching out right now and grabbing your throat would be so, so easy. It would be nothing; his hands would wrap perfectly around your delicate neck. He can almost feel the snap of your hyoid, your pulse as it speeds up; slows down; stops completely. Vulnerable, but still guarded—soft, sad eyes, and nervous fingers tapping against the mug, turned slightly away from him.

Still, when you look at him again, you light up a little. “My turn…what were you doing smoking outside a GS25 all alone this morning? I’m very glad you were there…just curious.”

“Oh…” Seungmin actually laughs at that—a genuine laugh. He wasn’t prepared for such a blunt question. “People watching, I guess. I like to observe.” He notices your eyes wondering over him, the same as he did to you, only you’re a lot less subtle about it. “What is it?”

“What do you do for a living?”

A living. What does he do for a living? He doesn’t do anything except survive day to day within his careful, tedious routine. He’s a trust-fund baby, thank god. Seungmin can’t imagine having to work a day job, deal with the public, wear a mask every moment of the day just to get by.

“I make music…write, produce. Independently. Nothing major, but it pays the bills.” It’s not his usual lie, but it seems fitting for you. It’s not even a lie, because Seungmin does make music—music that has ever seen the light of day.

“You sing?”

Seungmin nods, puts on another shy smile for you. “Yeah, I do. Mostly for myself, though.” He’s not used to fielding so many personal questions so quickly, because by now, someone has their mouth on something. Or something in it. The thought gives him another twinge in his groin, and he almost whines along with his sigh.

Now is probably a good time to get more information, but his dick continues to distract him. “Uhm, what was your promotion? What do you do?” Not this information, but he has to start somewhere.

“Nothing very exciting. Customer relations for a cosmetics company. I don’t like it very much, but it pays well enough, and I’m here now.”

“Is that where you went this morning?” It’s almost too nosy, but he goes with it. “Sorry, that’s not really my business.”

“No, it’s okay. I was coming back from Dongguk University. I’m taking language classes."

He takes the opportunity to switch to Korean, “good…so you don’t speak any Korean?”

And all you can do is stare back, clueless. “I think I caught a word,” you laugh when he grins at you.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you”

An exchange of phone numbers, the promise of dinner, and Seungmin is on his way back home. Empty handed, yes, but he already has a plan unfolding in his mind. A few times before, he’s deliberately taken his time—did the cat and mouse thing, or more appropriately for him, a dog with a bone. It’s usually not by choice, though. He may have to find another in the meantime; something quick and easy to hold him over. Rushing things with you won't satisfy him.

“Wow, this is…great,” the girl turns and gives Seungmin a heavy, confident look. She only has one thing on her mind, but he’s alright with getting straight to the point. “How about the bedroom?” So why does the eagerness almost turn him off? It’s a stark contrast to what you just gave him, and to what anyone else ever gives him. The dates he picks up don’t want coffee and conversation.

There is no foreplay—not a single touch until his pants are undone and on the floor, but she goes for his shirt, and Seungmin grabs for her wandering hands.

“What’s wrong…self-conscious?” She slips one under and runs her fingertips across his ribs.

He has to tilt his head to the side to avoid her lips. “No, I’m not.”

“You are a little skinny, but that’s okay”

The gasp the girl makes when he grabs the side of her neck, the little bit of fear in her eyes, is what finally gets him completely hard. He squeezes, just enough to not be threatening, and she relaxes for a moment.

“Sorry…sorry, just teasing,” she smiles a little, and her eyes dart from the window, and then back to him.

“Get on your knees”

She does so without hesitation, but Seungmin turns and walks away before she has a chance to touch again. There wasn’t much prep for this, so he has to be careful, and he has to be quiet, so he stares absently into the drawer of his bedside table for a few long moments. Handcuffs could be helpful, but the gag might be even better. He opts for the handcuffs, and when the girl sees them dangling from his finger, she smiles. “Okay, I like kinky…are those for me?”

Seungmin nods, and very gently secures one of her wrists. The other end snaps around the bedpost. Now she reaches her free hand toward him and gets a handful of dick, and he lets her touch.

“Are you gonna be a tease now? Take these off.”

A hand comes down fast, and again she gasps as he tightens his grip around her throat. She grabs for him and claws at his skin, but it does nothing. His grip still tightens, even as her nails cut and a thin line of blood starts to form. Seungmin relaxes, and then lets go.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She coughs and pulls at the cuff, but it's not going anywhere. “Get this off of me. Now."

None of this is new for him, and most of the time, his jobs aren't easy. Last time, he was lucky. "No," Seungmin laughs and pulls his shirt over his head, but just as he's about to return to his drawer for something new, he hears his phone buzz in the pocket of his discarded jeans.

"Take these off…please"

"Not yet, relax"

"But you will? What are you gonna do? I'm sorry I teased you…please, you can do whatever you want, but—"

"But? I can do whatever I want, but what?"

The fear in her eyes is enough of an answer, but another buzz of his phone distracts her for the briefest moment. "Please let me go. We can just pretend this never happened.”

Seungmin goes for his phone this time, "no, I don’t do that," and stares at the number for a few seconds before recognizing it, because he didn't add you to his contacts. He's not even sure he should.

Hi! I just wanted to thank you again for being so kind. I haven't had any really nice interactions with anyone until I met you today. And there is a place a block way from me that I've been wanting to try since I got here, if you're still interested.

Seungmin doesn't catch himself grinning, but his guest does. "Good news?" She asks. "Look, this was just a date gone bad. I'm not into whatever kinky shit you're into.”

He's bored. To be honest, he's been bored since he got this girl back to the apartment, so this may not do the job as well as he was expecting—he’s already starting to get soft. But letting someone go? Seungmin doesn't do that. The phone gets tossed onto the bed as he makes his way back to his drawer, and this time, he knows what he needs. The girl gasps and screams as soon as she sees the glint of the blade against the lamplight—the gag definitly would have helped, but it's too late now. The neighbors are mosty likely at work, at least.

The rattle of the cuffs against the bedpost is annoying, and Seungmin thinks for a moment that it might actually break. "You need to relax, and you need to be quiet. This…" he gestures to her antics, "this is not helping either of us."

"Fuck you, you're gonna burn in hell"

That's the last thing she says. There is one more reach, and one more scratch of her nails (right across his cheek), but she gives in as soon as the knife slides neatly between her ribs. One last hitch in her throat, one last exhale, and the light fades from her eyes. Exactly what he needed.

"I know"

I am still interested. I wonder if we're thinking of the same place.

He sends that off and thinks, but the first text is more of a challenge to acknowledge.

I'm glad I could be your first.

It doesn't sound quite right to him, but maybe that's a good thing. He sends that, too.

Now he looks to the lifeless body on his floor. The blood has soaked through her clothes, and onto the area rug where she was kneeling. Seungmin suddenly remembers why he hates doing things this way. Okay, no blood for a while, he thinks as he begins to conceal the body. He has a long day ahead of him now.

The week passes slowly, and Seungmin spends it hidden away in his bedroom. He wrote a little, and he forced himself to sing last night, but aside from that, he's just existed beneath the warmth of his blankets. One more text came from you a few days ago, but he hasn't bothered looking at it yet. Ignoring his phone has been a test for himself, and he has done pretty well at not thinking about what you said.

That can't last forever, though. Seungmin doesn't think you're going to lose interest that easily. He knows you won't. And besides, he's hungry. It's time to get out of bed.

I'm free all day on Thursday

Fuck, today is Thursday. Seungmin sits up in bed and stares at the screen, thinks…wonders if chasing you will be worth it in the end. What if he spends all of this time on you, and it doesn’t fill the need he’s expecting it to? What if it’s just like the last one? He starts to type.

I am free today. I'm sorry I took so long to reply. I understand if you made other plans.

No, it can’t be as bad as that one.

Lunch. Maybe a walk, if it's not to cold for you. Back to the apartment. It's not time, though. The feeling hasn't quite returned yet, and it won't feel right if he does this now. Maybe today isn't the day.

I'm still free. Let me know when!

But lunch wouldn't hurt. Seungmin needs you here, in this apartment, if he's going to do this right. He needs you comfortable with him.

I can get dressed and head to your building. Half an hour? Meet me outside.

/ / /

You dressed up for him. He's still a half a block away, and you’re turned in the opposite direction, but he can tell that you put some thought and effort into your outfit. Seungmin looks the same as he typically does; black jeans, black sneakers, a Carhartt jacket over a loose fitting t-shirt. Not much effort, really, but…

"Hi!" You examine him, not so subtly, starting from his dark parted hair, all the way down his long, slender legs. The smile on your face grows when you meet his eyes again. "How was your walk?"

Now it's beginning to feel like a date, and it’s very obvious that you’re attracted to him. There’s no doubt you would’ve looked at him the same had he arrived in the sweatpants he had on in bed this morning. "Very nice. How was the trip from your apartment?"

Seungmin gets a genuine laugh out of you. “It was great, I was very excited to get down here and see you.”

Excited to see him. Okay. Seungmin is used to the attention, but he isn’t as used to the cute, innocent flirting. He sees your cheeks blush before you drop your gaze.

“You lead the way”

He nods, and brushes by you very gently.

Lunch is perfectly normal; a real date. Seungmin learns a little more about you, and you learn a few more exaggerated, somewhat true things about him. The breakup between you and your ex was recent—only six weeks ago. The move was actually the catalyst for ending things. You confessed to him that you’re still unsure if it was the right thing to do, but you are beginning to like living in Seoul already. Maybe because of him. You thanked him again for his help, so Seungmin starts to wonder if simple kindness isn’t something you’re used to. Getting it from him seems a little ironic.

“Would you like to take a walk?” The second part of his plan already seems to be in motion, because you walked right by your building without even realizing. “There’s a nice park I like to visit about a half a mile that way, and a cafe a little closer, actually.”

“Either sounds good"

“Or, my apartment is closer than both. And I have a very nice coffee bar. And a regular bar, if you prefer.”

He hears your soft laugh, and he can picture you blushing again. A no wouldn’t surprise him, though—going straight to his apartment was beginning to feel like a stretch, but he has to ask. After all, you did invite him up fifteen minutes into knowing him.

"Are you gonna make me a homeade latte?"

"Whatever you desire"

/ / /

Seungmin waits for you to give him a surprised look as soon as he leads you through his front door, just like everyone else does, but you don’t. You’re quiet as you take your shoes off and look around, and you don’t make a sound until he speaks up.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get the espresso machine going.”

“You must do good work”

“I wouldn’t say that. My dad left me a lot when he died, so I can’t take any credit for it.” Why did he say that? He had no reason to tell the truth, and yet, it slipped right out.

Now you do give him a look—a sad, apologetic one. “Well, I’m sure you still do good work.”

Seungmin keeps his mouth shut as he flips a switch and grinds the coffee beans. You don’t say anything else, but he watches you watching him carefully from the corner of his eye as he works. He makes one for himself, too, and as he walks to join you, a reflection on the hardwood makes him stop in his tracks. A small, silver earring is shining up at him, and he silently scolds himself for his sloppy cleanup. How did he miss that all week? He did stay in bed for most of that time, but he has never, not once, left something behind. It looks clean, at least...no blood.

“What’s wrong?” You look to where he’s looking, and you see whatever has him frozen. A small silver hoop earring.

“Uh, nothing…” he sets both coffees down on the table and tries to ignore it, but he can’t. Besides, you’ve seen it, and he can’t just leave it there. Seungmin wonders if he left something even more damning in the apartment as he bends to pick it up.

“One of your dates lost something?” You say it casually…just an observation, “I assume you have a lot of them coming and going.” But Seungmin looks ready to defend himself.

“No…no, I don’t. Not that often, really.” He slips it into his pocket. “How is your drink. I can make another if it’s not quite right.”

“It looks good,” you pick it up and hold it under your nose, “smells good,” and take a slow, careful sip. It’s hot, but just the right amount of hot. “It’s very good, thank you.”

He sits down, and his knee grazes against yours. You hold still and watch his hand run down his thigh, follow his arm up to his shoulder—to his neck, where his loose t-shirt reveals some collarbone, soft and tan. Seungmin is staring right through you, and he doesn't seem to realize it. The movement of his eyes is hypnotizing, and they're so big and dark, you feel like they could swallow you whole.

Just when you think he's going to reach for his coffee, his hand lifts toward you, and everything moves in slow motion—Seungmin's tongue pokes out to wet his lips, he bites down on it a little…and his fingertips just barely graze the far side of your neck.

You shake free of your trance and move back.

"Sorry"

"It's alright," you take another long sip of your coffee and avoid his gaze, but you can feel him staring at you. Hard. You look around his big, well decorated apartment and suddenly wonder how you ended up here with a man you hardly know, inches from him, his eyes eating away at you.

He's not sure why he went for that touch. Curiousity, maybe. Your skin looks soft, it is soft, and though he has no overwhelming urges at the moment, he still wants to to know how your skin feels squeezed against his palms, and pinched between his fingers. The image gives him a pleasant twinge in his stomach, and he doesn't even think about the possibility of his dick growing in his jeans right here and now. Today, nothing will happen, and if he scares you off now, he’ll never get you here alone again. It’s not a risk worth taking.

“I am…please forgive me. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t.” It’s a little bit of a lie, but he seems sincere. It’s easier to relax and take a deep breath now that he’s up and making a little bit of distance between you. Still, you admire him from this angle—his long, slender legs, perfect in proportion to the rest of him. Broad shoulders, and a strong looking back that you can see when the light hits his white t-shirt just right.

His face is soft, his jaw is strong, and his skin pretty, but not quite perfect. Seungmin looks like a piece of art come to life, and he’s here with to you. Talking to you. Staring at you. Reaching out to touch you.

There has to be something wrong with him.

“Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yes, I’m okay”

“I asked if you wanted to see the balcony”

There is no doubt he caught you admiring him. The grin on his face warms your cheeks…it warms your entire body. “Yeah, sure”

The balcony is in his bedroom.

Very cautiously, you walk through the doorway, but you’re not sure why you’re still on edge. So far, Seungmin has been sweet and thoughtful…maybe a little odd, but not so odd that it should concern you. Regardless of how handsome he is, maybe he really doesn’t go on many dates, or even get out of this apartment very often…his room is dark and moody, maybe more of a reflection of his mind than anything else in the apartment. Everything looks expensive—the high windows, the lighting, the music equipment in the corner. His bed is oversized and covered in soft pillows, and an old stuffed dog sits right in the middle. It looks like it’s seen better days. Seungmin doesn’t stop to show you around, though. He heads straight for the balcony.

“You’re not afraid of heights?”

You shake your head.

“Good. It’s a nice view.”

It is a nice view, because he’s almost at the very top. The wind gusts a few times as you stand there, and the air is chilly, but Seungmin stands to your side and blocks most of it. His eyes burn into you again, and you’re starting to like it.

“I should probably go.” Another lie. There is no reason to leave, and you don’t want to, but if you do stay, something will certainly happen.

“Oh, of course…I can call a ride for you”

And you want something to happen. Being in his room, within falling distance of his bed, is driving you a little bit crazy. His big, soft eyes are driving you crazy. But you barely know him, and you’ve barely settled into your new life. Feeling vulnerable isn’t new, but you’re extra vulnerable right now, and you know what can happen when you feel that way.

/ / /

Someone else will come along, and he’ll be fine. Eventually, he’ll come across another perfect one, and when he does, he won’t drag his feet and fuck things up. You were right here, inches from him…more than within reach, and Seungmin is not used to failing at getting his way. Maybe he missed something. Seungmin isn’t completely aloof when it comes to emotions and reading them on people, but he doesn’t typically bother with it, and he isn’t the best at it.

Fortunately, he doesn't have to dwell on it too long. You send him a text right before he begins to doze off that night...

Thank you for lunch today, and the walk…and coffee. Sorry I ended everything so quickly, it was nothing personal. I would like to see you again.

Okay, everything is fine. Just a little overreaction on his part. He just…scared you off? Came on a little too strong with the neck touch, more than likely. It didn't seem like much, but you're obviously a little reticent.

I would like to see you again

No reply to that, but a heart pops up next to his message after it sends.

He drags himself to the other end of the street, but he's tired. Sleep hasn't come easily the past few days, and the nightmares that come and go have returned…the same ones—the old shed, the soft, rain soaked ground, and the earth covering his father's hands when he reaches out for Seungmin. There's more, so much more, but it always comes in pieces. Maybe tonight he'll get another piece.

For now he focuses on the woman entering the bar, and he's certain he's going to lose her in there on a busy Saturday night. The urges have returned, and the sleepless nights haven't made things any easier, so he has to do something, and this half-hearted chase helps a litte bit. You haven't said a word since Thursday, and if you don't by tomorrow morning, he might just come and find you himself. If that's the case, he doesn't even need to pursue this one—he can go back home, take a hot shower, make a strong drink, and finish his nightmare.

“Seungmin?”

His heart jumps into his throat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you”

It’s you. It’s your soft, lilting voice, and your pleasant accent. He turns and your eyes connect, but his heart still continues to pound. “Hi, what are doing so far from home?” Very far. He ventured a little further out of his comfort zone this time around. Running into you this far away can't be a coincidence, even if Seungmin doesn't believe in things like that.

“You first”

“Oh, uh…trying to be social, I guess”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me the truth.” You smile at his smirk. “A few of my classmates dragged me along, but I’m over it already. I don’t usually stay up this late.”

“I can ride home with you, if you’d like. Unless I can convince you to have a drink with me first.”

You think about it, but not for very long. Part of you wants to make up for last time, and for struggling to text him back. “Yes to both. Can we try a different bar?” The other part wants to remain strong.

“Of course, anything you want”

“Your bar?”

But the former part is bigger.

It's a quiet ride back to his place, but it's not an awkward quiet. Seungmin is relaxed, body turned sightly toward you, and you can tell he's watching every subtle movement you make; the fidgeting of your fingers, and the bounce of your knee, the occasional shift to adjust yourself and pull at your sweater. You can't quite figure out what he seems to see in you, and maybe that's part of your hesitation—being a clueless foreigner with a native drinking up every little thing, emphasis on little, that you have to you offer.

He walks ahead of you as you head for the elevator, and it's another opportunity to look at him in the harsh light. The leather jacket he's wearing is a bit big, but it doesn't hide the broadness of his shoulders. Just as you move your eyes down, he begins to take it off and reveal even more. His muscles move delicately beneath the black t-shirt as it slides down his arms, this time a more form-fitting one, tucked loosely into his black jeans. Tiny waist, narrow hips, but just enough ass to grab.

The elevator opens and he turns to you, "don't worry, I won’t keep you up too late."

When you arrived, he did all of the things guy's don't actually do on your dates: pay for the ride, open the door, hold a hand out for you. It was a little bit cheesy, but you're not going to complain about his good manners.

"Do you mind if I change? I can smell the smoke on me."

You shake your head at him, make yourself comfortable on the couch, and listen carefully as he moves around in his bedroom…the slide of a drawer, a door softly opening and closing. He's not in there long, and when he comes out, he looks like a different person.

Seungmin’s face is so striking, and it’s like that no matter what he does to his hair, but he definitely combed everything back with his fingers while he changed. It’s parted just off to the side and pushed away from his eyes, save for a few lose strands, and his eyes are so pretty and intense. The outfit is completely different—a loose fitting t-shirt, a thin white one this time, and sweatpants. It looks so out of place, because the three times you’ve seen him, he was dressed a little more than casual.

A silver Chanel necklace still hangs around his neck, and you wonder if he just forgot about it. “Better?” You stand and take a step toward him, he moves a little closer, but heads toward his small, but elaborate bar.

“Yeah,” he smiles and beckons you. “What do you like to drink?”

“What do you think I like?”

“Oh…good question, let me think,” he very patiently scans over his selection…

Ice in the shaker, cherry soju, coconut vodka—he gives it a shake, never breaking eye contact until he has to grab a glass and pours—he stops and looks around, thinks, then grabs another bottle from under the bar. As soon as he twists the cap off, the sweet smell hits you. Seungmin tops it off with cream soda, and drops in a cherry before sliding it toward you. Then he pours some for himself, minus the soda.

“Is this me as a cocktail?”

He sips his, and you can hear a little laugh from behind the glass. “First impression? Yeah. Is it good?”

“It’s good, it’s sweet…goes down easy”

“Oh, I hope so”

The whole room warms. You feel like you’re on fire. You know you’re blushing, and you might even be grinning like an idiot, but you can’t pull yourself away from his stare. Seungmin bites down on his bottom lip and a smirk slowly tugs at his mouth, and it’s now that you notice how plump and red his lips are.

All you can do is clear your throat and shift in the bar stool, but thankfully, Seungmin still has the reigns. He finishes his drink in one swift movement, and you take one more sip as he rounds the bar. The warmth of his hand on your thigh, you do feel that, but everything else is either numb or pulsing with nervous excitement. He spins you to face him, but his hand doesn’t move—it squeezes as he leans in and whispers in your ear.

“Stop fighting against it…just…” he sighs, and it turns to a soft moan. You feel like you could melt right out of this stool and onto the floor. “Don’t make me beg.”

Fuck, your mind went from nothing to everything you want him to do to you, and everything you’ve been wanting to do to him. But you haven’t done anything yet, and you don’t have to. Seungmin hasn’t come off as that type, but god…the way he’s looking at you and gripping your leg. He gently pushes your thighs apart until he can put himself between them, and your eyes drop to the growing bulge in his sweatpants.

“Seungmin…uh, fuck…um”

“What? Look at me. Eyes up here.”

The ease at which he makes you listen is surprising. He has you now. The smoke-tinged smell of his skin, the vanilla of his cologne, and the sweet smell of booze on his lips. His eyes soften, and you can’t even begin to imagine resisting that look—from here you can see the little bit of black eyeliner starting to smudge. You don’t even feel yourself reach up and wipe your thumb at the corner of his eye, not until he smiles and wraps his fingers around your wrist.

“I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you what you need.”

No answer will come out, so you squeeze your thighs and hope he can read the look in your eyes. He does. Seungmin grabs your hips and pulls your body into his, lifts you, and doesn’t hesitate once he has you in his arms. He turns and takes you right into the bedroom, and the feeling of being outside of your body is intense. You can feel your legs wrapped tight around his hips, and your arms clinging to his shoulders…you can hear his soft grunts as he keeps you steady against him. He pulls you close right before he drops you, and you get a taste of his skin before you hit the bed.

“Keep your eyes on me”

He pulls his shirt over his head, and you study every inch of him while you can. A long, lean torso—his muscles underneath flex with every shallow breath; his bare shoulders—you count every freckle as your eyes move down his arms; his hands grab his waistband and pull, and his cock bounces out, bigger than anything you’ve taken before, and you’re not even sure he’s fully hard yet.

Seungmin laughs at your reaction. “I’m usually a little more subtle…but,” he stops and looks you over, and his voice turns so sweet, “take something off for me. Please.” He’s never this needy, and he doesn’t usually move so fast, but he’s aching for it. Nine days of teasing him was far too long. “Yeah?,” he purrs as you sit up and slide out of your oversized sweatshirt. “Much better….” He strokes himself as he climbs onto the bed.

As soon as your tank top makes it over your head, and your breasts bounce free, you feel your nipples harden even more. Seungmin groans like a horny teenager. “Good…lie back for me.”

The steadiness of his hands is what you expect from him, though. You know he’s experienced, and you know he wants all the control. He unbuttons your skirt and pulls, leaving you in nothing but your panties—you wore cute ones, the lacy ones, just because. Of course you weren’t expecting to get anything tonight, but you’re so glad you did when you see Seungmin smiling at them…but then he snaps out of his trance.

Fuck, he mumbles and moves back. You watch him hop off the bed, and take another chance to admire his naked body, but he doesn't take long getting into his drawer, grabbing something, and returning to you. The condom is out and on him before you even realize what he was doing, and your panties are gripped and pulled down.

"Open up for me," he coaxes your shy legs apart until he has an eyeful of your throbbing, swollen cunt—good—and his tongue slides hungrily into you, making you gasp. "Soaking wet for me already?" Seungmin looks at you for an answer.

You nod and cautiously run your fingers through his hair, and he leans into it before getting back to work, but he just teases you. Licking and sucking just enough to make your hips move against him for more. You relax and enjoy it while you look around the dark room. The curtains are pulled shut, but you can see a little slice of city through the balcony's sliding door. The built-in shelves in the corner are over flowing with books, records, little trinkets you can't quite make out. There’s a bouquet of fresh purple flowers poking out just enough to see. You reach up and slide your hand across a silky pillow, and your fngers close around it.

"Oh…right there," you whine and take another fistful of hair. "Seungmin, god."

He laughs again, takes your words to heart, and doesn't hold back.

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you try hard to keep your body relaxed as he works, but all you want to do is thrust into him, make more fiction…finish…come hard. Seungmin moans and the vibration runs through you.

"Fuck”

He stops, and lifts his mouth off of you completely…

"No…please"

…and he laughs. "Not yet, not yet."

"So mean," you whimper, "why…"

You force your legs closed, but Seungmin doesn't like that. He grabs each knee and spreads you open again, and he slides himself between your thighs until his cock grazes your sensitive clit.

“Relax…” he comes down and bites the skin on your hip.

“I am,” you lie back and look to your left this time; at the desk, the instruments, everything he uses for work. The bedside table is bare except for a lamp, a pair of glasses you’ve never seen him in, and a silver bracelet…it matches the necklace you feel tickling you as he moves his lips up your body. “I am.” Your fingers tangle in his hair as he gets closer and closer to your throat, your neck. He bites down gently, and the pressure as he pushes himself in is so much more than you prepared for. He doesn’t tease—but he does at least take his time. After a few patient movements, he pushes in, and you whine in pain as he moans in pleasure, pulls out, laughs softly as he pushes in. Again and again.

“Fuck, you feel good”

“Slower…slow down,” your own voice echoes in your head, and you don’t feel like you’re all there. But you watched him make your drink, and he didn’t put anything in it. It’s stupid, but maybe it’s just him, and this room.

“Slow down? Oh, I’m hurting you.” He pushes in and stops, “I don’t wanna hurt you, but...you look so good stretched around my cock,” and pulls out carefully, “so wet.”

“You’re not hurting me…”

“I am”

It takes so much restraint, but Seungmin listens to you, and he’s patient as he pumps in and out. Every few strokes, he moves a little faster, and he knows he finally finds a good pace when you whine for him and squeeze his arms.

“Yeah, you like that?” He whispers and you nod, “you take it so well, fuck.”

His gentle affirmations keep you wet, and the sound you make together, the mess of arousal dripping out of you as he works—Seungmin pushes your thighs apart and takes in every little detail.

It does hurt, and it feels so good at the same time. “Please…”

The soft movements of your breasts distract him, and he takes them in his hands and squeezes. The look on his face is dazed, so full of pleasure. So lost.

“…don’t stop.”

"No." He’s not stopping anytime soon, not when it feels this good. “No, I’m not,” Seungmin speeds up, "I'm gonna break you in two," and slams hard into you, and no, he doesn’t stop, even when you cry out in pain. One hand falls down on your mouth, and the other pushes your shoulder into the bed, making you scream out again, but it’s muffled by his palm.

Your hands jump up and squeezes his forearm, and the other scratches at the hand covering your mouth. You can still breathe through your nose, but just barely. Seungmin doesn’t relax, and he doesn’t let up when you grab his side and dig in. Everything goes numb, but your skin prickles with goosebumps. You’re outside of your body again, looking down at the struggle, and the ceaseless pounding of his hips against yours. Every move he makes knocks even more air out of your lungs. Maybe if he comes, he’ll stop, or at least loosen his hand and let more air into your lungs. Time slows down, and lights pop up in your vision. You’re getting dizzy, and your heart was threatening to explode before he attempted to stifle your moans. Your chest starts to burn as you exhaust yourself.

There’s nothing you can do. Seungmin is stronger than he looks. Fingers squeeze into his arms one last time before the feeling disappears, and you think he finishes just as you let the rest of your body relax. Sleeping, that’s what this feels like. Falling asleep…feeling so tired you can’t possibly keep your eyes open any longer. Something in you needs to say his name one last time when the pressure of his hand is finally gone, but so are you.

/ / /

Seungmin can barely hold his body up, because he can’t remember the last time sex felt that good; the last time he came so hard. It takes a moment for enough blood to return to his brain, and for the post-orgasm bliss to subside enough that he can speak, but when he does, he finally realizes how silent you are.

“Hey, sweetheart…look at me,” he runs a soft thumb across your brow, and wipes away a stray tear running down your temple. Seungmin freezes, and the air catches in his throat. “Open your eyes,” he whispers, taps your pink cheek, and caresses it with a softness he isn’t used to giving out. Nothing happens. He pulls at your chin until your lips part to listen for the movement of air. Still nothing. “Fuck.” The shakiness of his voice surprises him. He climbs off of you and collapses onto his pillows, but his eyes don’t leave your still body. “I didn’t. You fucking idiot, you didn’t…” he’s up again and walking on unsteady legs, still weak from the exertion. Back in his sweatpants, Seungmin climbs onto the bed again and straddles your waist. Your cheeks are still flushed, and your lips, also still very alive looking, stay ever so slightly parted. Still, no air passes through them. He knows his own strength, and he prides himself on his control, but sometimes he does lose himself in the moment. But he kept his hands away from your neck. He very specifically forced that on himself, because this wasn’t the plan tonight.

“Hey,” he moves a piece of hair away from your damp forehead, places his lips against yours for the very first time, and he fills your lungs with air. Once…twice. Nothing. He tries one more time, and after, kisses you softly before returning to his spot on his pillows. The puppy plush falls onto his lap, and he grabs it, “you see that, Daengmo?” he says, and points its face toward you, “I still can’t do anything right.”

The first gasp for air feels like nothing—a useless, struggling breath like you’re still trapped underwater, but your eyes somehow open and see nothing but a blue tinted darkness. Hands clench something soft and slick…silky. Still corporeal after death, that’s the only thought you can create. The second breath fills your lungs and you cough it out, hard. So hard you sit up, and he’s there, holding your face, whispering your name. You try to push back, but you don’t think you actually move. Seungmin’s grip tightens on your shoulder, and he lets you fall back on the bed.

“Stay awake for me,” he says.

“No…no, stop”

“I’m not going to hurt you…I promise”

“Seung—” you feel yourself slipping again, and then his hand is on your bare chest, sliding up and down your sternum. It feels good, and you finally feel like you might be alive. “Seungmin?”

“I’m sorry”

And then you’re truly awake. The memory hits you suddenly—the hand caressing you is the same one that was clamped across your mouth. The other pinned you down onto the bed, and you can feel the sore spot where it's going to bruise. You somehow find the strength to move your arms and pull yourself away, but the burning of your thighs, and the leftover pain from the sex makes you shake and collapse.

Seungmin watches quietly as you scramble back up and gather your discarded clothes.

“You need to lay down. Please, get under the covers and get warm.” He finds your sweater, and holds it hostage. “I know I scared you, I'm—"

“Scared me?” Somehow, you manage to find and slip back into your underwear and tank top, but your skirt is nowhere. Why are you even looking for your clothes? You should have been up and running for the door, but your mind is nothing but static.

“No…I mean, what just happened is not what I intended. I lost myself.”

Finally, you go for the door, clothes or no clothes but it’s, unsurprisingly, locked. That’s an unbreakable habit of Seungmin’s. “Please let me go…please.” As much as you want to cry, nothing happens—but your throat tightens and it’s hard to breathe again, so you do the only thing you have left in you—collapse onto the floor and wait. "This can't be happening, not to me...no, everything felt right," you say to yourself, to the door. “Didn’t it?”

“I can't let you leave, I'm sorry.” He hears himself speak so softly, and it sounds as if it's coming from someone else, from somewhere else…not him. “You shouldn’t even be here right now. What’s wrong with me?” He mumbles the last part to himself, but it comes out louder than he intends.

You stare wide-eyed at nothing, forehead against the door, breathing deeply as you do everything you can to not have a full-blown panic attack. The adrenaline is quickly running out. But you hear the rustle of blankets and sheets, and then you sense him getting closer. His fingers close around your shoulders, very cautiously, and he pulls you against his chest.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay? And then I’m going to take you to the bed. That's all."

If there’s something you can do to save yourself, you can’t seem to think of it, so you give in and let him put his arms around you. And he does exactly what he says—places you gently in the spot he prepared a moment ago, and then pulls the blankets over you. He moves back a little bit, and stares. The strong, sweet scent of him is all around you now, but you manage to keep your eyes closed and off of him.

“I’ll be right back, I’ll get you some water”

They remain closed until you hear the lock, the door, and then him locking it again from the outside. He won’t be gone long. You’re up and scanning the floor again, trying to remember if you had your phone in your pocket. No…you left it on the bar, right next to your empty glass. The balcony…you have no clue what you expect to find out here, but you go out and look left, and then right. And then 25 stories down. The closet. It's spacious and neat; tshirts, jackets, shoes. The black and white windbreaker he was wearing when you first met him briefly catches your eye, but you close it quietly and head for his bedside table. You heard him slide the drawer open and shut right before he walked out. Maybe there's something in there.

“Oh…” The inside of it is neat and organized, just like everything else, so you get to see exactly what’s in there with one quick glance: a small knife, concealed in a black sheath, a few small syringes pre-filled with a milky liquid, handcuffs, nylon rope, a gag…"what the fuck"…lubrication, and several more condoms. “This can’t be happening.” A moment later, the lock clicks again, and without thinking, you grab the knife, quietly close the drawer, and climb back under the covers.

There's a bottle of water under his arm, and a mug in his hand. "I am going to drink some of this so you know I didn't put anything in it…and then I would like you to finish it," He takes a long sip before handing it to you, "The water bottle is unopened, don't worry."

Something is different about him. As soon as you woke up, something felt not quite the same. Even his voice, which was so serious, and a little bit solemn before, seems lighter and higher. You stare into the mug and take a deep breath, smelling the chamomile, the spearmint, and the orange. Seungmin finished nearly half of it.

"I'll take another drink," he holds his hand out for it.

"No…" you sip it very cautiously, and then take a longer drink. The taste and the warmth does help, and you finally take a full, deep breath. Seungmin rounds the bed as you sip, and you watch him carefully. If he opens that drawer again, he'll know you have the knife…and unlucky for you, that's exactly what he does. Maybe he heard you. Maybe he can just read it on you.

But he's quiet as he looks, and his expression doesn't change. He just closes it again and sits at the edge of the bed, naked back facing you. You find yourself admiring him again…his neck, his shoulders…stupid. He slides back and relaxes against the pillows, but he keeps a good distance. The bed is big enough for that.

"You have my knife?"

The way he asks isn't accusing. It isn't threatening. It isn't even rude. He asks as if it's just the next part of the conversation. When you don't answer, you see him nod his head from the corner of your eye.

"If it makes you feel safer, you can hold onto it. If you want to use it, I probably won't try to stop you."

"How long are you going to keep me locked in here?"

"I'm not going to let you go home alone in your state, not this late. You can leave in the morning."

"You're lying"

Seungmin sighs and turns on his side, and he looks at you—you look at him directly for the first time since coming back, but you're both silent. Just like his voice, his gaze is softer, and less intense. It’s also full of confusion, like he doesn’t know what to make of you; as if he’s wondering why you’re in his bed right now. His eyes start to close. At the same time, your eyes grow heavy, and it feels just like before. It feels like you can't possibly win against the sleep, and your thoughts wander as you drift; now you'll die, no more waking up.

The sun coming in through the balcony window warms the room. The light slices the bed right in half, and when you open your eyes, the first thing you see is his sleep tangled body—the legs of his sweatpants are pushed up almost to his knees, and his skin glows in the sunlight. He's sound asleep on his stomach for a few more moments, but then he mumbles something that you can't quite make out. A groan, but it's not a good groan. It isn't until right this second that you remember the situation you somehow ended up in. Locked in with him…whatever he is…a murderer? The drawer screams experience, and that experience screams serial killer, but last night didn't seem like an experienced killer. You suppose not every time can be perfect.

What are you even thinking? You pull the covers away and move to sit up, and it's then that you feel the knife, still tucked safely beneath the pillow. So Seungmin didn't sneak over as you slept to retrieve it, because you assume he actually did put something in your tea—something he himself also drank. Both of you fell asleep together, and now you have to wait for him to wake, and hope he meant what he said a few hours ago. No, you idiot. Where did he put the key? It's probably in the pocket of his sweatpants, so you move closer to him as carefully and as quietly as possible.

He doesn't stir. You stare down at his sleeping face as you slip your fingers into his pocket, and again, you admire him—the lips you never got to kiss, soft and pouty. His cheeks, his nose, all perfect and screaming to be touched. Seungmin must hear your thoughts, because his eyes open to you, and his hand clamps down on your wrist. Ice runs through your veins and your stomach drops, but instead of pulling away and retreating to the other side of the bed, you lean forward and press your lips to his, because…you don't know why. But Seungmin kisses back, and he means it—every nibble and lick, every soft moan coming from deep in his chest. You return the intensity, and something about his kiss feels good, but still…

“Oh…right,” Seungmin licks his lip and keeps his chin high, because he knows exactly how sharp his knife is. It grazes his throat, and your shaking hand doesn’t do much to relax him. “How could I forget?”

“Where’s the key?”

“I told you I’d let you leave, I meant it”

“Give me the key.” Now, of course, you can cry. Tears stream down your cheeks, and your hand shakes even more.

“Okay…okay,” he digs in the pocket you were going for, pulls out a leather keychain, and one gold key hangs from it. “Please don’t cry.”

You snatch it, but keep the knife against him until you’re too far away to reach. He doesn’t get up when you do. He doesn’t move when you grab the clothes you finally find on the floor, try the key, and sigh with relief when it works. It’s possible that he finally moves when the door shuts behind you, but you’re dressed and gone before you have a chance to find out.

[jinnie-ret]

fallen angel

stray kids x ninth member!reader (platonic)

genre: hurt/comfort, some fluff at the end

content warnings: injury, hyunjin hiatus (but he still makes an appearance)

word count: 3k

If you enjoy feel free to send in requests as my asks are open! And let me know if you would like to join the taglist for when I upload more imagines :)

the stray kids members have two maknaes to comfort at the end of their 'I'll Be Your Man' cover. One upset because he thought he wasn't good enough, and the other an injured, fallen angel, left hurt because MNET hadn't done enough safety checks on their equipment.

pt 2

MAIN MASTERLIST

Practising the vocals for 'I'll Be Your Man' was difficult enough, trying to learn the choreography alongside it was hard too. But performing said choreography whilst being lifted in a harness too was even more difficult.

Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. No, it wasn't to do with the heights, she could cope with that, but it was more the precision of her dance, and the fact that she would be hitting a high note in the air at the same time, having her own solo moment to shine. Maybe it would be different if they had multiple takes to make sure they got the right one. But with Kingdom, they didn't. She only had so many practices to ensure it looked perfect in front of her sunbaenims and friends. Yeosang and Wooyoung from ATEEZ had kept reminding her they were excited to see her performance. In the normal way, this would be encouraging, this time round, it only felt more daunting.

So when it came to the day of the performance, Y/N was unable to hide her nerves shining through.

"Y/Nnie, you good?" Han appeared in front of her, big brown eyes shining in concern as he watched the younger member zoned out in her own world.

"Huh? Oh yeah..." Y/N said dismissively, not really entirely sure how she felt right now, but her emotions showed more on the outside than on the inside right now.

"You've practiced this a billion times, you've got this," Han encouraged her, his hand resting on her shoulder whilst stylists were around the two making last minute adjustments to their outfits before they went on stage.

"Okay okay, I can do this," Y/N nodded, trying to hype herself up for the performance, breathing away her worries.

"Hannie! Y/Nnie!" Changbin loudly called them over to their group huddle where the rest of the members were gathered.

Y/N gave Han a thankful smile before they joined the others in the circle, Y/N slotting herself between Felix and Seungmin.

"Right, let's do our best, stay safe, and deliver what Stray Kids do best! Let's go! Hwaiting!" Chan led the small talk before they all cheered each other on and got into position on stage.

Y/N didn't have a part until the first group choreography part of the performance, where Han and Lee Know sang the chorus and led them through the gates. Felix, Han and Changbin then had their rap parts in a more hellish scene, where a dance break ensued, Y/N running off halfway through it like she was meant to, to get into position.

She was quickly harnessed by their supporting dancers and got ready for her solo part. As soon as she heard Lee Know sing out 'baby I just pray', she was slowly lifted into the air. Instrumental music played as she rose upward, stretching out her arms and legs and creating beautiful moments with them. And when her arms swooped across her long black hair, the other groups who were watching backstage were shocked to see it was a wig that was knocked off, revealing long white hair instead. As she rose higher, some large wings appeared on the screen behind her.

"Oh my god her hair!"

"Wow she's an angel!"

"That's my best friend! Let's go Y/Nnie!"

"So pretty..."

Now risen at the highest point in the air, Y/N began singing too, beautiful vocal runs flowing along with the violin in the background. Her moves ranged from static to more elegant moves too, and she feigned an expression as part of the performance like her soul had been taken away from her, sacrificed for the young boy to align with the storyline of the performance. She was then lowered as her movements became more frantic and dramatic, showing the desperate need to have saved a soul. At the same time, her wings dissolved behind her, the screen turning darker behind her.

"She's a fallen angel! Wow!"

"Oh wow..."

She continued to be lowered, and Y/N was beginning to feel a bit nervous now because she swore she heard a slight ripping sound from the cord she was attached to, yet she continued performing. It was until she was still 6ft in the air, that the cord actually did snap, and Y/N was forced to act quickly despite her shock to try and land. Despite the impact going straight through her left ankle, Y/N continued dancing until the camera panned away again, panting before realising she'd have to dance some more at the end of their performance too. She tried her best to keep her tears at bay, moving across the stage the best she could as she limped over to the rest of the boys. None of them noticed however, as they were in performance mode and hadn't seen her part of the stage from getting ready themselves for the next. And even the groups backstage had seemed to think the drop from the harness was planned, like it was part of her fallen angel character.

Her left foot was in agony, yet she kept going, her body twisting and turning whilst Han and Seungmin sung their hearts out, and Changbin rapped incredibly fast. She was relieved once it came to the end, and they were able to collapse to the ground, because ever since she fell that was all she wanted to do.

Once the lights came up, she cried out, hands over her face. It was then that she noticed she was finding it hard to breathe too, and she didn't know if it was another injury or if she was in so much pain from her ankle.

"Y/N what's happened?" Lee Know crouched down next to Y/N, thinking she was upset and tried to help her up but then she cried out in pain again.

"What's happened? Are you hurt?" Felix panicked, seeing the tears coming from the younger member.

Staff members from MNET rushed over, catching the attention of the other members.

"What's going on?" Changbin asked confused and worried.

A higher up crew member approached the group and began to explain what happened.

"There was a fault with the harness, the cord snapped as she was being lowered and so she suffered a slight fall. Good news is she landed it well so it still looked good on camera," they hurriedly tried to reassure the rest of the group, but their words did anything but that.

"She fell?!" Seungmin looked across at Y/N who was being comforted by a now angry looking Lee Know and a more worried Felix. Jeongin, who wasn't feeling too good about his own performance, looked worried for his fellow maknae.

"The harness broke?!? Why didn't you check it was safe?!" Chan exploded in anger at the MNET staff, because now one of his members was injured.

Whilst he continued to rant angrily at the staff, Han trying to calm him down, the rest of the boys gathered around Y/N.

"Ah it hurts," she cried through stuttered breaths, top half leant against Changbin as he had lifted her slightly into his arms. He rubbed soothing circles into her hands which gripped onto his so tightly.

"Where, Y/N? Can you tell us where it hurts, love?" Felix rushed out his words concerned for her, seeing the tears roll down her face.

"Landed on my ankle," Y/N whimpered, her breaths coming out short.

"Y/N you need to calm down, okay?" Seungmin patted her arm, thinking that she was working herself up even more, and not wanting her to feel even worse.

"Get a doctor here then!" Chan was heard shouting, which only made Y/N more upset.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's going to be okay, yeah?" Changbin reassured her gently, squeezing her hands tighter.

"W-what if I can't join the next performance?" Y/N shakily asked, eyes flitting back and forth between the boys who were her real comfort right now.

"We'll worry about that later. We're more concerned about you right now, Y/Nnie. Just breathe sweetheart, can you do that, hmm?" Lee Know spoke calmly, slowly taking off her shoe to reveal a swollen and bruised ankle.

"I'm trying to b-but it hurts to," Y/N says through stuttered breaths, tears still falling down her face.

"There's not a doctor here yet?" Jeongin questioned, wondering why someone on set hadn't arrived quicker.

"They should be coming over now," Chan informed them, before grabbing one of Y/N's hands, "we're going to get you some help, yeah? Just take some nice deep breaths, Y/Nnie."

Chan gave her the same advice as the others yet it wasn't working. Y/N knew it wasn't her panicking, but something worse.

"We keep trying to calm her down but she says it hurts when she breathes," Felix looks up Chan worriedly, and sees Han to the left of him with his clasped together nervously.

Some medical staff finally came over and lifted her onto a small bed to move her backstage and look at her properly. Y/N couldn't help but let out more whimpers of pain and the members tried to reassure her as they followed along.

"Only one person in here please," the standby doctor informed the boys, and that was when they decided Seungmin should go in with her. He was the most grounded at the moment, the other members either being too angry, worried or upset to remain calm like Y/N needed.

Seungmin gently held Y/N's hand as the doctors checked over her. With a slight press into her ribs, Y/N let out a loud yell of pain, Seungmin immediately whispering reassuring words to her and gently petting her hair.

"It's okay, it's okay, they're just making sure you're okay, Y/Nnie," he stumbled over his words, now wishing someone else was in his position instead because he feared he wasn't doing enough to comfort the younger girl and he hated seeing her like this.

"We fear you may have a bruised rib, Miss Y/N, you're going to have to seek medical help from a hospital," the doctor shook his head, regretfully informing them.

"No, no, I can't, what about the next performance, can't let the team down," Y/N cried, which was making her ribs hurt even more from the slight jolting of her body.

"Y/Nnie, it's okay, we'll figure out, but you need to calm down, jagi, because you'll hurt yourself more," Seungmin made sure she was looking at him as he said this, wiping her tears away with his thumbs, stroking her face gently.

"B-but-"

"Ssshh, please don't cry Y/Nnie, we'll get you to a hospital and then we worry about the future, okay, come on now, that's it, well done," Seungmin helped her to relax, an arm gently wrapped around her shoulders as he stroked her hair to calm her down.

Whilst Y/N's examination was happening, Chan had noticed Jeongin's upset.

"Hey Innie, it's okay, Y/N will be okay," he patted his younger member's back, thinking that's why he was crying to himself.

"It's not that, I mean, I'm worried about Y/N, but I messed up in the performance and then seeing her hurt too was just," Jeongin couldn't finish his words, crying into the shoulder of his leader.

"Ah, Innie, you did good, which part?" Chan patted his back gently.

"I just did a terrible job as a whole," Jeongin sniffled, his voice thick from trying to hold back his cries.

"Hey, it's okay man," Chan hugged him again.

Felix came and hugged Jeongin too.

"Ah what are we going to do with our maknaes?" Han sighed fondly, patting Jeongin on the head, and it was then they saw Y/N getting wheeled out of the medical room and heading down the corridor past their room.

"Hey, hey! What's going on?" Chan called after some staff of their own who were with Y/N.

"They're taking her to hospital, think she's got a bruised rib," the JYP staff shook their head angrily.

"A bruised rib?!" Changbin said with wide eyes, trying to peer round at Y/N who was sat up straight, trying to remain calm with Seungmin who was stood beside her, looking stressed himself.

"Lee Know and I will go with her, Seungmin, you go home with the others, yeah? We'll update you," Chan instructs everyone.

Seungmin nodded and was immediately embraced into a hug by Felix, feeling guilty for relaxing but he couldn't deal with seeing his member hurt.

And off they went. Changbin stayed behind with the 00 liners and Jeongin, making sure they weren't too shaken up by what happened. Chan and Lee Know stuck to Y/N like glue, one of them always holding her hand or stroking her hair, even when she had been given some drugs for the pain and was unconscious.

"I can't believe this happened..." Chan sighed, brushing back stray hairs from Y/N's face. They were sat beside her hospital bed.

"Typical MNET," Lee Know sighed angrily, looking at the boot now on Y/N's foot.

Y/N then started waking up.

"Hey, sweetheart, how you feeling?" Chan was quick to check in on her.

"Feel, funny," Y/N giggled trying to sit up but then wincing in pain.

"Oh gosh, she's gone loopy," Lee Know playfully sighed, but he couldn't hide his worry for her as he gently leaned her back.

"Wow I have such handsome members," Y/N suddenly said, the drugs she was given making her delirious and spouting whatever was on her mind.

"What? Y/N?" Chan laughed at the girl who staring at the two eldest members.

"Did so well today. Good performance. All 9 of us," Y/N carried on, seeming like she had forgotten about her injuries for now considering she thought all 9 of them was there, when really it was 8 because of the stupid hiatus Hyunjin had to be on.

"It was only 8 of us, Y/Nnie, remember?" Lee Know warily reminded her, and it was then she teared up.

"Call Hyunjin, I miss him. Want to talk to him," Y/N pouted sadly, and they couldn't deny their maknae.

"He might be busy though, Y/N," Chan said gently, calling his fellow member anyways.

Fortunately he answered.

"Hi Channie hyung!" Hyunjin said brightly upon seeing Chan's face, which soon changed to Y/N holding the phone closely to her face, making Hyunjin cackle.

"Woah, Y/N, all of a sudden?" he laughed over the phone.

"Hyunjin!" Y/N yelled into the phone, causing Chan and Lee Know to shush her due to being in a hospital.

"Y/Nnie!" Hyunjin joyfully said back.

"I miss you!" she said into the phone, holding the phone higher up where Hyunjin could see she was in a hospital gown and had an IV in.

"Miss you too- huh? Are you in hospital?" Hyunjin sounded very concerned, and Lee Know and Chan could hear it in his voice that he longed to be with them right now to comfort her and reassure himself.

"Yeah. Because MNET are all dickheads who can s-" Y/N spoke her mind, until Chan covered her mouth so she'd stop speaking and Lee Know took the phone.

"Hyung is Y/N okay?" Hyunjin frowned.

"We were filming and you know she had that harness part? MNET didn't do enough safety checks and so the cord snapped," Lee Know shook his head angrily

"What? That's ridiculous! How could they just let that happen?" Hyunjin rambled from the other side of the phone, but Y/N in her more delirious state thought he was talking about her.

"You angry at me Jinnie?" she asked sadly, bottom lip wobbling.

"No no no, not at you, jagi, at MNET, because they're all dickheads, remember?" Hyunjin quickly calmed Y/N, trying to make her laugh by using her words, and he was successful in doing so.

"Hyunjin!" Chan scolded, yet their was a smile as he spoke and Hyunjin could hear Lee Know's laughter in the background.

"Please update me if she's ok, yeah?" Hyunjin bit his lip worriedly, wishing he could be with his memners right now.

"Of course of course, that goes without question. Talk to you soon, yeah?" Chan promised Hyunjin.

"Bye hyungs! Bye Y/Nnie!" Hyunjin waved them goodbye as the phone hung up.

"Y/N you can't shout like that," Chan facepalms and laughs, scolding her for her shouting earlier on in the call.

"You sounded like a parrot," Lee Know said bluntly, causing Y/N to smirk.

"You sounded like a parrot."

"Y/N-"

"Y/N."

A sigh.

And another, Y/N copying Lee Know once again.

"Hyung make her stop," Lee Know whined, Y/N copying once again before he covered her mouth.

Chan managed to capture this on video and sent it to the groupchat to let them know how Y/N was doing.

Chan:

[vid. attachment]

Y/N is up and doing better

Han:

haha Lee Know hyung is annoyed

Chan:

well he did call her a parrot

Changbin:

ah Y/N is so clever like that haha

Seungmin:

she learnt it from me

Felix:

hahaha

what did the doctors say?

Lee Know:

she's got a bruised rib, broken ankle, don't know how we're going to let her down gently about if she can join the next performance or not

Jeongin:

I hope she can :(

Chan:

she spoke to Hyunjin and that made her feel better

Hyunjin:

what can I say? I'm a natural healer

Felix:

we miss you jinnie

Hyunjin:

I miss you guys too

but it's not long now, that makes me feel better

Y/N:

you know what is long?

Han:

which one of you let Y/N have her phone?

Y/N:

my d-dkfkfkfmfkfdkdkrkrkttt

Lee Know:

Chan did, but I've got it now. this one has gone crazy...

tagged: @oo-li

[dreamescapeswriting]

Silence Between Us ~ YJI/SCB

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT:2.9K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Jeongin? X reader / Changbin x reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ GENRE: Established relationships, jeongin in a relationship with reader, changbin ‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅hates you, thinks youre using jeongin,

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅a/n: i did this as an imagine? I hope thats okay!

Jeongin’s fingers gently intertwined with yours as you both lounged on the couch, the steady flicker of the TV screen barely registering in your mind. His head rested comfortably against your shoulder, eyes half-closed in contentment. You smiled softly at the sight of him, your thumb tracing absent patterns along his knuckles. You adored the moments that you had with him like this, wrapped in the warmth of his arms and enjoying the closeness of one another as you cuddled closer together but there was a tension in the air that was hard to ignore.

The tension was so thick you were almost sure you could cut it with a knife.No matter how much time you spent with Jeongin, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of your mind...or rather someone was always in the back of your mind and that was Changbin.

He never spoke to you unless absolutely necessary, his responses were always clipped, his presence cold. And whenever you were around, he was suddenly busy, leaving the room, or worse, not even coming home. It was weird, you never did anything to upset him. Hell, the day you met him you'd been so nervous you'd made a fool of yourself but that was no reason for him to dislike you.

The rest of the guys loved you, and you always found yourself hanging out with them when Jeongin was busy it felt like you were a part of their little family, all apart from Changbin who made you feel unwanted.

You could feel the tension with Changbin but Jeongin never addressed it, almost as though he had no idea that his friend didn't like you but it made things weird between you.

Jeongin shifted beside you and checked his phone, jumping up a little as he went to look for his car keys.

"Hey, I’m gonna grab some takeout for us, okay?" His voice was soft, and gentle, like always, and it made your heart skip a beat. Ever since the two of you first go together he made your heart sing. He pressed a quick kiss to your temple, and the warmth from his lips sent fireworks throughout your body.

“Alright,” you replied with a smile, though a part of you wished he wouldn’t leave. The dorms always felt colder when you were alone, especially when Changbin was around but you prayed he was going to stay in his room while Jeongin was away.

“I won’t be long,” Jeongin promised, giving you one last smile before heading out the door.

The moment he left, the air felt thicker and you could feel your chest tightening at the thought of Changbin coming out. The silence settled heavily in the space, making you acutely aware of the absence of Jeongin’s calming presence, you hadn't realised just how much you relied on him to feel relaxed. You glanced around the living room, your eyes landing on Changbin’s closed bedroom door. Tension stirred in your chest.

As if on cue, the door creaked open and you tore your eyes away, forcing yourself to stare at the TV and trying to focus on whatever it was that was playing. Changbin appeared in the hallway, his eyes barely acknowledging your presence as he made his way toward the kitchen. He had that same expression on his face as he always did when he was around you—guarded, distant like he couldn’t be bothered with you. It was as if you were invisible, a stranger in the house he shared with Jeongin. It hurt more than you cared to admit.

You didn't expect you to be the best of friends but it still would have been nice for you to at least get along for the sake of your boyfriend. The tightness in your chest grew unbearable, you could feel your heart starting to race with anxiety and you couldn’t take it anymore.

Without fully thinking, you stood and blocked his path back to his door. Changbin stopped abruptly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, confusion, and mild irritation flashing in them.

“What are you doing?” His voice was cold, as if speaking to you was an inconvenience to him and you did your best not to let it show that it was bothering you. He sidestepped you, but you moved with him, determination replacing your nerves.

“Changbin, please. I need to know… What did I do? why don’t you like me?” Your voice cracked slightly, but you held his gaze, refusing to back down. For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips pressed into a tight line. His silence cut deeper than any words he could have spoken. You waited, breath caught in your throat, for him to say something, anything.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he finally muttered, brushing past you again, but you stepped in front of him once more, desperation creeping into your tone.

“No, you do!” you said, voice stronger now. You weren't just going to back down now that you'd gotten the courage to ask him. There had to be something about you that had driven him to be like this. You just needed to know what it was.

“You’ve been avoiding me for months. I’ve never done anything to you...In fact, I've done just about everything to make you like me so I don’t understand—if you just tell me what I did wrong, I’ll fix it. I just… I want to know what’s going on.” Changbin’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenched so tightly that you could see the muscles flex beneath his skin. His frustration was palpable now, the tension between you threatening to break. He finally sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

"You really wanna know?” he asked, his tone bitter, almost as if the truth was something you didn’t deserve to hear. You nodded your head at him,

“Yes,” you whispered, heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words pressing down on you. You didn't care what it was, you intended to fix it.  Changbin’s gaze hardened, and when he spoke, his words cut through you like ice.

“I don’t trust you. I think you’re using Jeongin.” His accusation hit you like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat. How could he even think something like that? You and Jeongin had known each other before he became an idol, you'd have to be a fortune teller to predict this would have happened,

“W-what?” you stammered, disbelief surging through you. There was no way he really believed the words that had just come out of his mouth.

“How could I be using him?”

“God, don't play dumb and don’t act so surprised,” Changbin scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. The moment he'd met you he could tell something was off,

“You’re only with him because of who he is—an idol. Because he’s got money and y, fame, and you get to be a part of that. I’ve seen it before. Girls like you are all the same.” The words felt like daggers, sharp and cutting through the fragile bond you thought you were building with Jeongin. You blinked, the sting of unshed tears burning behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

“That’s not true,” you managed to whisper, but your voice felt so small compared to the anger radiating from Changbin. “I care about Jeongin… I love him...I knew him before-”

“You love him?” Changbin repeated, his tone mocking, laughing a little as he shook his head at you.

“Then prove it. Because from where I’m standing, all I see is someone trying to cash in on his success.” Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you didn’t move, didn’t look away. You wanted to scream, to defend yourself, to tell him how wrong he was. But the weight of his accusation, the disbelief in his eyes, was suffocating.

Just as you opened your mouth to respond, to tell him just how wrong he was about everything, the sound of keys jingling outside the door echoed through the apartment. Panic surged through you, and before you could say anything else, the door swung open, and Jeongin walked in, a bag of takeout in hand.

“Hey! I got your favourite—” His cheerful voice trailed off the moment he sensed the tension in the room. His eyes darted between you and Changbin, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“What’s going on?” You quickly wiped your eyes, turning your back to him so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill. You weren't going to be the one to get between two friends,

“Nothing,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I… I have a headache, I should go.” You lied, grabbing your jacket,

"Baby, stay. I can make you some tea and we can go and relax-" You shook your head, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay you weren't going to stay somewhere you weren't wanted.

“I’ll… I’ll call you later,” you said, hurriedly gathering your things. Your heart ached as you avoided his eyes, but you couldn’t face him—not like this. Not with Changbin’s harsh words still ringing in your ears.

Before Jeongin could even try to stop you, you slipped past him and out the door, the sound of it closing behind you echoing in the stillness of the apartment.

It had been a week since you walked out of Jeongin’s apartment, leaving behind a whirlwind of emotions. Every day since, your phone had buzzed with messages from him—each one pleading for you to talk, for you to come over. And every time, you felt your heart break a little more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him. Not with Changbin’s accusation still echoing in your mind.

Jeongin didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be caught between you and one of his best friends. Every time you thought about going back, that tight knot of anxiety would pull you down again, you just needed to do the right thing and walk away from it all.

Today was no different. You stared at your phone, Jeongin’s latest message flashing across the screen.

Innie: "Please. Can we talk? I miss you."

You sighed, pressing the phone to your chest, trying to find the courage you hadn’t had for the past week. It wasn’t fair to him to string him along like this—he had no idea what had happened between you and Changbin, and leaving him in the dark wasn’t right. Stil every time you tried to take a step to make it right you just remembered Changbins words in your mind, hitting you harder each time.

A few minutes later, your phone rang, and when you saw Jeongin’s name again, something inside you caved. You answered. Maybe you were a glutton for punishment or soething...or maybe you were just desperate to hear his voice after a week,

“I’ll come over,” you said quietly, not giving him a chance to speak first. There was a pause on the other end, followed by a hopeful,

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, your heart heavy with a mix of relief and dread. “I’ll be there soon.” You whispered as you stared at the wall. You needed to get this over and done with.

When you arrived at the apartment, the familiar hallway felt like it was closing in on you. Your chest tightened and you were finding it harder and harder to breathe the longer you waited for the door to open. The memories of last week flooded back to you all at once. Changbin’s cold gaze, his hurtful words, and Jeongin’s confused expression. You hesitated before knocking again, but the door swung open before you even had the chance.

Jeongin stood there, eyes wide with relief as if he hadn’t believed you would actually come. Without a word, he reached out, pulling you into a tight hug, and burying his face in your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured against your skin, his voice shaky with emotion. You hugged him back, the tension in your body slowly unravelling once you felt him holding you. This was everythign you'd been seeking out all week but you hadn't been able to get to it. The weight of the past week still hung over you and you slowly began pulling away slightly, you met his gaze.

“Jeongin, we need to talk,��� you whispered. His heart raced as he nodded, stepping aside to let you in.

"If this is about the take-out, I promise I got you something you liked." he joked trying to lighten the mood but once he saw how serious you were he stopped and took you over to the couch. The two of you sat there, the silence in the air completely heavy as you stared at one another,

“I didn’t leave because of you,” you began, your voice soft but steady. Was this the right thing to do? Changbin was his band member and you didn't want to risk making things bad between them simply because he didn't like you but he needed to know. Right?

“I left because of Changbin.” Jeongin’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Changbin? What does he have to do with this?” You sighed, wringing your hands together as you tried to find the right words. You'd been trying to think of them on the way over but nothing ever sounded right.

“That night, after you left to get takeout, I asked him why he didn’t like me. He told me… he told me he thinks I’m using you for your money.” The hurt flashed across Jeongin’s face, his eyes widening in shock.

"What?”

“I tried to explain, but before I could say anything, you came back, and I couldn’t… I didn’t want to make things worse.” Jeongin ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear in his features. He stood up abruptly, pacing the floor.

“I can’t believe he would say that,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight with anger. You watched him, your chest tight with worry as you stared at him.

“I didn’t want to come between you two,” you said quietly. “I didn’t want to make things awkward for you.” Jeongin stopped pacing, turning to look at you, his expression softening. This was why you'd been avoiding him? He thought he'd upset you somehow.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Changbin… he was way out of line.”

Before you could respond, the door to the apartment opened, and in walked Changbin. He froze when he saw you sitting there, tension instantly filling the room. Jeongin wasted no time though, he stared at his friend and shook his head.

“Changbin,” he said firmly, stepping toward him. “We need to talk. Now.” Changbin’s eyes flickered between you and Jeongin, his expression unreadable but you knew he was brewing with anger for you.

“What’s going on?” Jeongin crossed his arms, his gaze hard. It was the first time you'd ever seen Jeongin so pissed off about something,

“I know what you said to her.” Changbin’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. He hadn't expected you to say anything after running out last week, he figured he'd seen the last of you.

“I can’t believe you’d accuse her of something like that,” Jeongin continued, his voice rising slightly. “Do you even know how long we’ve known each other?” At this, Changbin’s brow furrowed in confusion.

"You met each other a few months ago," Changbin grumbled but you both shook your head. The two of you had known each other a lot longer than people thought.

“We grew up together, Changbin,” Jeongin said, his voice softening as he glanced at you. “We’ve been best friends since we were kids. She’s not using me. She never has, and she never will. I thought you knew us better than that.” Changbin’s eyes widened in surprise, and for the first time, you saw uncertainty flicker across his face, his eyes glanced over to you and he shook his head.

“I… I didn’t know.” Jeongin stepped closer, his tone stern but not unkind. The last thing he wanted was to upset Changbin but he also wanted the two of you to get along,

“You should’ve talked to me first before making assumptions.” There was a heavy silence as Changbin processed Jeongin’s words. Finally, he turned to you, guilt shadowing his features.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice rough with regret. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I just… I was trying to protect Jeongin, but I went about it the wrong way.” You nodded, still feeling the sting of his previous accusation, but you could see the sincerity in his apology in his eyes and even hearing it in his voice.

“I understand,” you said softly. “I just wish you’d talked to me instead of assuming the worst.” Changbin lowered his head as he nodded, he realised now how much of a dickhead he'd been toward you when he could have just talked to you.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” Jeongin stepped forward and took your hand, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles.

“I’m sorry too. You didn’t deserve any of this.” You squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. The weight of the past week seemed to lift slightly, the air between you lighter, though the hurt still lingered.

"Movie night?" you suggested to them both, Changbins eyes lingering on you for a second before nodding his head. It was his chance to actually get to know you without making any harsh decisions before he had the chance to know the real you.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

[staysdelulus]

Stray Kids Movie Night [MDNI!!]

Kinktober Day 1 - SKZ OT8

Summary: After finally settling in for a movie night with the rest of the boys, you find yourself getting fucked by everyone else.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, P in V, unprotected sex, fingering, and more :)

Word Count: 1638

It was just a normal day. For you, at least. It had started with a movie night, Lee Know pushing the projector in as Bang Chan scolded the others for being too loud as he set up the blankets. You stayed under the blankets on the couch, snuggling to the side as you watched, wide-eyed as usual, the same soft and gentle look on your face. As the other men settled down finally, you found yourself next to Chan, an arm wrapped around you tenderly.

Lee Know settled on the ground in front of you, Seungmin and Jeongin sitting next to each other on the other side of Chan. Hyunjin and Felix lying on the ground as they fixed their eyes on the TV. Han is the last one to join, settling next to Lee Know on the ground in front of Chan.

“Y/n,” Chan whispers, shifting next to you and pulling you onto his lap. “Come here, I want to hold you.”

You nod, leaning back against him as his arms wrap around you softly yet firmly, holding you close as he buries his face in your hair. He hums softly as the movie begins, your innocent eyes fixed on the screen as his focus on you.

“Chan,” you mumble when he starts to get handsy, his fingers grazing you softly under the blanket. He pauses, his hand resting on your stomach flatly before he nuzzles his nose against your ear, smiling against your skin as his breath fans over you. “Hm? What is it, love?”

“We’re watching a movie,” you whisper, inhaling sharply when his hands delve under your shirt. “Chan-”

“Let me take care of you.” His whispered tone is laced with need, making you pause, before nodding, chewing your lower lip slightly. His soft tone is a complete contrast to his actions, though, as soon as his fingers tug on the drawstrings of your shorts. Legs crossed, your thighs clench together as his hands cup your pulsing core.

“Loosen up, love,” he whispers softly, lips kissing your ear as he speaks. “Is this okay?”

It was always like this. Always. If any of them wanted to start diving into intimacy, they would always ask before continuing. You nod softly, but his murmur, “words, love,” makes you speak up quietly. “Yes… yes, it is.”

Lee Know shifts slightly in front of you, Chan gently brushing your lips with his free hand before he continues. His fingers begin to move over your panties, his teeth tugging on his lower lip as his hips grind against you, his arousal evident through the bulge you were nudged against. You gasp, whimpering ever so slightly, audible only for Chan to hear, whispering his name. “Ch-Chan-”

His fingers delve beneath your panties, his pants soft as his thumb rubs over your clit, tenderly yet harshly at the same time, your hips buckling as you grab a pillow, holding it against your face to stop your moans. His fingers move, fast, other hand gripping your waist tightly as he grunts softly. “Feel good, yeah? Feels good, love?”

Whimpering in reply, he nudges you up slightly, the movie flashing like a blur as Chan moves to shift your pants and underwear, your legs swinging down, hands grabbing the articles of clothing and pushing them to the side, still under the blanket. Chan’s fingers slide against your slit, feeling the wet coating that’s beginning to leak, a small smirk on his lips as he kisses your temple. “So wet already, baby?”

“Chan, please,” you whisper. “Please.”

At your words, he breaks, fingers delving into you, working his way with two fingers, thick and long, giving you pleasure in ways that make your body squirm slightly under the blanket. “Ch-Chan, I can’t-”

“I know,” he whispers soothingly, lips brushing you softly. “I know, it's been a while, yeah? But you’re going to do so well for me, yeah?”

You whimper softly, but when his fingers stop moving, his hand tightening on my waist, you quickly nod, swallowing. “Y-Yes, p-promise I’m going to be g-good. P-Promise.”

“Good girl,” Chan praises, chuckling quietly as he moves his fingers again, pumping them in and out of you. His fingers reach into you deeply, so deep, hitting the spots that make your core pulse as you clenched around the thickness.

And just when you’re about to reach your high… the blanket gets pulled off. By Lee Know. “What are you two doing?”

Your cheeks flush when the others watch you and Chan, his fingers deep inside you, nose buried against your hair, not one bit embarrassed. But you… your entire lower body was naked, bare and on show for everyone, suddenly self-conscious of the eyes on you.

“Wow, Chan,” Seungmin says, his eyes narrowing with a mix of amusement and irritation. “Couldn’t even hold yourself back while we’re watching a movie?”

“Seungmin-”

“Hey, hey,” Lee Know interrupts. “Let’s not argue. Especially when your fingers are still buried in Y/n.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, but Chan just chuckles softly, the rumble of his chest moving against your back as he shifts, causing you to whimper. His fingers move out of you as you whine softly. “So impatient, baby girl.”

You stand up slowly as Chan guides you up slowly, holding your hips before he stands up as well. Lee Know sighs, looking almost bored despite the excitement in his voice. “Looks like we’ve been ignoring our favorite member for far too long, yeah?”

When you don’t reply, your eyes instead widening, Lee Know smirks softly, guiding you back down to sit on the couch before he taps your cheek gently. “I need words, Y/n.”

“Yes,” you answer quickly, your voice a soft whine. “Please.”

“Good girl,” Lee Know says. “Now-”

“Lee Know.” Bang Chan’s voice rings out, re-initiating his role as leader of the group. “Gentle.”

Right. You were a sensitive person, especially when intimacy occurred. Lee Know sighs softly, rolling his eyes at Bang Chan. “I know. I was just going to say, let’s fix the problem. Let’s fix this, Y/n.”

“Let me go first-”

“No,” Lee Know says, interrupting Chan. “No. You already had your fingers in her, Chan. You’re going last.”

Chan huffs slightly, but steps back. “Fine.”

And so, it begins. Lee Know smirks, stepping back first as he gestures for the others to go ahead. Han comes up first, cupping your face gently before he kisses you, lips meeting yours softly before he gently works his fingers in you, coating himself with your pleasure before he slowly pushes in.

“H-Han,” you whimper, your voice airy. The other men shuffled around as they released themselves from the constraints of their pants. Han only grunts in reply, turning you flat on the sofa as he continues to roll his hips back and forth.

Lee Know speaks up at this point, eyes pinned on you. “No coming for us, Y/n. Not until Chan.”

Right. Whenever these… sessions happened, you weren’t allowed to fully orgasm until the last person was finished. You’re brought back to reality when Han thrusts one final time, filling you up and leaking even still, groaning as he brushes his bangs back with his sweaty palms, grinning cockily as he steps back.

It continues like this. Hyunjin, who pushed your legs together so he was able to hit your deeper spots, filling you with his sweetness as he sucked on your nipples, your body squirming under his touch. Seungmin, who softly pressed your throat, fucking you like there was no tomorrow as he straddled you on the couch, your body shifted to sit up. Jeongin, who went missionary as usual, kissed your temples sweetly despite the demon-like power he weld while losing himself in you.

Felix, who groped your breasts as you whined, whispering soothing words before he released ropes of his cum onto you. Changbin, who flipped you onto your back, one hand pushing you down at the small of your back, pushing into you from behind.

Lee Know, who grabbed your hair, pulling your head back as he kissed you aggressively, his hips thrusting back and forth. “Yeah, yeah? You like that? Take it, baby. Take it for me. For us.”

At this point, you could barely hold back an orgasm, your cries loud as Chan stuffed his fingers in your mouth, shushing you gently as he stroked your hair, your voice ringing out with whimper as he removed his fingers. “C-C-Can’t- Going to- c-c-come-”

“No, no, no,” Lee Know hisses. “No, just take- it.”

And he comes. You barely contain your high. And finally. Finally. Chan.

He gently turns you to face him, kissing your forehead, then your temple, then your cheek, then finally meeting his lips with yours. “Love, you’re doing good, hm?”

“Channie,” you whisper, wide-eyed with vulnerability yet a deathly need. “Please. Can’t take it anymore- Y/n can’t take it.”

“Aw,” he coos softly, gently stroking his length against your slit. At your whine, your hips pushing against his desperately, he smiles softly, kissing you again. “Gonna be good for me, yeah?”

And when you nod, he fucks you. Hard yet gentle, hips rolling back and forth as he kisses you, holding you tenderly.

Another day. Another night. Another time with your favorite people, holding each other so closely in such an intimate way. When Bang Chan is done, they continue. Full of love. Desire. Lust.

“I love you,” Chan murmurs softly, kissing your temple when you’re done. Cleaning up you. Dressing you gently. Always, always, always.

“Let’s have another movie night soon,” Lee Know says softly as he helps Chan.

The others murmur in agreement, and Chan gently strokes your head, urging you to sleep.

“Yes, let’s.”

And that’s the last thing you hear that night before falling asleep.

~~

A/n - First post, thanks for reading :) Feedback appreciated <3

[daydreams-after-dark]

i desperately need to be pounded and passed around ot8 all at once… how could i choose only one 🥺especially when the boys are keeping each other busy too 🥰

It seems you’re not supposed to choose one 😈

See, I usually imagine you’re tied up to the bed or somewhere and they all take turns…. But you’ve just hit me straight in the pussy with you being “passed around”.

I mean, picture this: hey are all sitting around various couches and sofas, and you have to move from one to the next while they just watch lazily🥹🥹🥹

You straddle them and ride them like a wild person, and then the next member will pull you over to ride him. More and more cum leaks down your inner thighs as you’re passed around like a plaything.

Some of them will get you into other positions too, like lay you down on the floor, or fuck you from behind while you hold onto the back of the couch.

Meanwhile, they’re stroking each other, sucking each other off, getting themselves hard again for the next round.

This scenario is hot. Thank you for sharing.

[hwangverse]

skz when you need a break from studying.

pairing: stray kids (ot8) x female reader

genre: fluff, comfort

warning: none

BANG CHAN - stops whatever he’s doing.

As Chan wrapped up for the day, he stretched his tired limbs, sore from hours hunched over his laptop, fully absorbed in finishing a new song for their upcoming album. Glancing at his phone, he scrolled through his notifications, sensing something unusual. You hadn’t sent him a single message all day—a surprise, given how you often text him any random thought just to check in. He loved that about you, knowing it was just your way of showing you cared.

Curious, he sent you a quick message, asking how your day was going. Minutes ticked by with no reply. Knowing your schedule by heart (and even saved in his phone), he remembered you didn't have classes today. Concerned, he dialed your number, listening to the rings before you finally picked up.

"Hey, Mr. Loverman. What’s up?" you greeted him, trying to sound lively, though he immediately caught the tiredness in your voice.

“Oh, I don’t know? Maybe my girlfriend hasn’t sent me a single message all day because she’s probably glued to her laptop screen, her poor butt sore from sitting there nonstop?” he teased.

You chuckled softly, unable to deny it, and he laughed before adding, "Well, don't you worry, Y/N's cute little butt—I’m on my way to rescue you from that uncomfortable chair!" His words made you laugh.

"You’re not going anywhere! Comeback season’s around the corner, and you still have songs to finish" you protested, setting aside your iPad to focus on him.

“I can do the rest tomorrow. I got through most of my to-do list today” he insisted. “I’ll see you at your dorm in fifteen minutes.”

“Do I get any say in this?” you asked playfully. “Only to get ready for lots of hugs and kisses” he replied, excitement sparking in his tone.

“Bring some food, too!” you said. “Are my hugs and kisses not enough?” he asked dramatically.

“They’ll be enough once I’m full. I’m starving, Channie” “Alright, my love. Pizza, pasta, kisses, and hugs—on their way to you!”

LEE KNOW - scolds you (lovingly), but cuddles you afterwards.

In the quiet solitude of the university library, you’re battling a wave of sleepiness that’s been creeping up on you for minutes. The combination of no enough sleep, the library’s cozy atmosphere, and the silence of being alone makes staying awake even harder. Your friends just left to attend their next class, leaving you to focus on your looming term paper deadline.

But no matter how much you try, your mind feels like a blank page, and your eyelids are getting heavier by the second. You decide to rest your eyes just for a moment, convincing yourself that it’s only for a short time. With your head still facing your laptop, you lose track of time, drifting somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.

Suddenly, you feel yourself tilting forward, on the verge of hitting your laptop—only to feel a gentle hand press against your forehead. A familiar voice, warm with concern and a hint of exasperation, breaks the silence. “Geez, Y/N, be careful. What are you doing?” Minho whispers in a low, scolding tone.

Your eyes open, and you’re met with his worried gaze, his hand still resting on your forehead. You can’t help but chuckle at the situation, earning a sigh from him. “You’re really laughing?” he mutters, his tone serious enough to stop your laughter.

His brows knit in concern, and you pout in response. “It’s not fair; you know that pout of yours weakens me. Stop that, Y/N,” he sighs, removing his hand from your forehead and settling into the chair next to you.

“Then stop scolding me,” you retort with a playful frown. Minho’s expression softens as he gently smooths your hair, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“I’m just worried. You’re pushing yourself too hard, resisting sleep,” he says before pulling you closer, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. You lean into him without protest, melting into his warmth and wrapping your arms around him in return.

“Did you finish class early?” you ask, looking up to find his affectionate gaze already on you. “Yeah. Our professor assigned an activity, and I finished early. I was on my way to your building when I ran into your friends, who told me you were here, working on your paper. Glad I came in time to stop you from hurting yourself—or your laptop,” he adds with a wry grin, a hint of scolding still in his tone.

You glare at him in mock annoyance, but he just raises an eyebrow and kisses your forehead, dissolving any defense you had left.

“I was just resting my eyes…” you mumble, sitting up to meet his gaze and prove your point, but he’s faster, pulling you back into his embrace. “Shh, rest,” he whispers. And this time, you do.

CHANGBIN - bring you your favorite show and food.

A notification chimes from your phone. You ignore it at first, focused on your work, but then you catch a glimpse of the sender: Changbin.

Instantly, you unlock your screen and see his message, “The plot twist of this episode?!” followed by a snapshot from your favorite K-drama.

Your jaw drops as you hurriedly type back, “How dare you watch that without me! I told you a million times—we’re supposed to watch it together, traitor!”

Almost immediately, you see the "typing..." indicator pop up on your screen. Changbin replies, “But you said you were busy studying. I didn’t want to distract you.” You scoff, knowing full well he’s teasing.

“Fine, enjoy it without me,” you shoot back, turning off your phone and attempting to refocus on your work. Moments later, another notification interrupts. It’s him again, this time with a photo of himself grinning over a mouthwatering slice of pizza from your favorite shop.

“This new flavor is sooo good!” he writes. You roll your eyes, replying, “I hate you.” He quickly texts back, “Want some?” You type, “Nope. I’m studying. Don’t reply anymore.”

Determined, you switch your phone to Do Not Disturb and dive back into your books. Time passes smoothly until you hear your mom calling from downstairs, saying that Changbin is here.

You stop typing mid-sentence and rush to see if it’s true. Sure enough, there he stands in your doorway, balancing pizza boxes with a sheepish grin. “You told me not to text back, so I came over instead,” he says, making you burst into laughter at his antics.

You pull him into a hug, grinning. “You’re so clingy! Couldn’t go a night without talking to me?” you tease. “Of course not!” he beams, making you laugh even harder.

“I thought you were enjoying that pizza all by yourself,” you quip. “Yeah, but then I thought of my poor girlfriend missing out and felt bad,” he replies, his tone teasing as he studies your mock-annoyed expression.

“But then again, she’s so busy studying, and I wouldn’t want to distract her…” “Get upstairs—quickly, before I change my mind!” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward your room, secretly thrilled he’s here.

HYUNJIN - joins you in quiet companionship. him painting while you review your notes.

Even though you're tired and tempted to close your notebook, a gentle energy fills you, thanks to your boyfriend's presence beside you.

Hyunjin insisted on joining your study session, and now you both find yourselves nestled in a cozy café near campus. After persistent begging and multiple reassurances that he’s free for the day, you finally relented, allowing him to be by your side.

You made him promise to keep himself busy, knowing he wouldn’t get much conversation out of you, and he simply agreed, understanding without complaint. Now, you’re both wrapped in your own worlds—yours full of lecture notes, while Hyunjin is absorbed in his sketchbook.

It warms you to see him lose himself in his painting, a passion that lets him escape the pressures of his idol life. Without realizing it, you start to frown in concentration, a habit you’ve developed over time.

Hyunjin notices and reaches out, gently pinching the furrow between your brows. The touch makes you pause, looking up to meet his soft smile “Someone’s a little too focused,” he teases, his gaze warm and adoring.

You can’t help but smile back, leaning into your seat as you set down your pen and stretch your fingers, instinctively popping your knuckles. Hyunjin quickly takes hold of your hands, capturing them in his larger ones, a slight frown on his face.

“No more of that,” he murmurs, massaging your fingers gently. “Your hands need a break too, just look—they’re turning red.” “I won’t do it anymore, but I still need my hands to finish writing,” you say, laughing as you attempt to pull free, but he doesn’t let go.

His eyes are full of quiet affection as he looks at you, keeping your hands warmly cocooned in his. “Let’s rest for a bit,” he whispers, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your hand.

Glancing at his side of the table, your eyes catch a glimpse of his latest drawing—a woman bent over her notebook, absorbed in her work. “Is that…me?” you ask, surprised.

Hyunjin nods with a smile. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he says, giving you a quick kiss. In that moment, you feel grateful you let him join you. Maybe this will be the first of many study dates together, where even the quiet brings you closer.

HAN - adorably pesters you with playful whining.

Jisung decided to turn your usual Saturday date into a cozy evening in his room. This time, midterms had almost derailed your plans—your schedule was packed, and the stress was wearing you down.

But Jisung wouldn’t let that keep you apart. After nearly a week without seeing each other due to the distance, he thought up a way to be together that still let you study.

His plan? A stayover at his house, complete with dinner at the local fine dining spot you’d both been eyeing for ages. You agreed after he promised you’d still get to study, though his intentions might have shifted now that the quiet room is filled with his relentless whining, trying to pull you from your books.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, nudging you away from your notes. “This assignment’s due in two weeks. Aren’t you overworking yourself a bit?”

“Yeah, but if I get this done, I can focus on next week’s pile,” you argue, glancing at him over your laptop. He sighs, clearly not convinced.

“Alright, if you’re set on finishing it, at least take a break for a while? You’ll still have time to finish later.” He gives you a pleading look, though you shake your head.

“If I stop now, I’ll lose my momentum.” You stifle a yawn, rubbing your tired eyes. Before you know it, he’s gently pulling your hands from your face, planting a soft kiss on each eye.

“Your body’s saying otherwise, baby,” he whispers. “Just rest, please? Please, please?” His whining escalates, his pout deepening as he shakes your shoulder, and as much as you try to resist, you can’t help but smile at his ridiculous, adorable persistence.

“Y/N-ie ~ my baby, love of my life, my sun in the middle of my cold, lonely sky—come lie down with me,” he insists, sweeping you into his arms. With a huff, you let him settle you onto the bed.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, yet the smile still tugs at your lips. “And that’s why you love me,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before wrapping you in his arms. It’s the start of a long night filled with warmth and quiet, endless cuddles.

FELIX - shares the latest update of the game you both play.

“Here he comes again," Felix's sister mutters as the two of you hear footsteps approaching. You’re currently tucked away in her room, safely distant from the noise of the party outside.

It’s the perfect spot for studying, away from the chaos, and both of you need the peace to focus on a major test coming up.

Today is Felix’s mom’s birthday—a special occasion you couldn’t miss, especially for someone so dear to you. Still, knowing you needed to study, you’d asked Felix and his family if you could join the party briefly before returning to study.

They were more than understanding, even encouraging you to focus on your studies, but you assured them you wanted to be there, at least for a while.

But even tucked away from the noise, you’re not entirely safe from Felix’s playful interruptions. He’s been back and forth to his sister’s room so many times you’ve lost count, popping in just to check on you both.

"What do you need now?" his sister groans, sounding thoroughly exasperated, while you can’t help but chuckle at his antics. “Aren't you two tired from studying? They just bought ice cream! Come on, let's go get some!” he announces with a grin.

“Oh, nice! I’ll probably grab some later, still full from lunch.” You give him a soft smile, though his face falls, disappointed not to have swayed you.

“I’ll just hang here for now,” he sighs, dropping dramatically beside you. “I’m exhausted from playing with our nieces and nephews—those kids are unstoppable.”

“Ugh, do you have to do this right in front of me? Gross,” his sister complains, but Felix only sticks his tongue out at her, making faces.

A few moments pass in peaceful silence until a familiar sound cuts in—Felix’s phone chirps with the opening notes of a game you both love to play. He grins, noticing you sneaking a glance at his screen.

“There’s a new skin for your character,” he teases, holding up his phone. “And it’s in your favorite color too.” You can’t resist.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s gorgeous!” Without thinking, you take his phone, admiring the new look.

“Y/N, focus! We’re not done studying yet,” his sister chides, rolling her eyes.

“A quick break won’t hurt,” Felix adds, nudging you with a knowing look. You hesitate but finally give in, and Felix cheers, sticking his tongue out at his sister, triumphant.

SEUNGMIN - closes your laptop and notebooks, then lifts you to bed.

With your headphones on, set to just the right volume, music from a playlist you share with Seungmin flows through your ears. A warm cup of tea, lovingly prepared by him, sits beside you, and the room is filled with the cozy scent of a candle you just bought. The ambiance fuels your motivation as you dive deep into studying and creating review notes, testing yourself.

Suddenly, a light touch on your back makes you jolt. Turning around, you’re surprised to see Seungmin standing there. “Babe? Seungmin? What are you doing here?” you ask, confused. His expression mirrors yours, but with a bit more playfulness.

“What do you mean? I've been here since early afternoon. It’s dark outside now,” he laughs. “I even asked if I could come over to bring you the food you've been craving all week, and you said yes. You also insisted I stay a while because you wanted to spend time with me. And that tea you're drinking? I made it,” he says, feigning hurt.

“Oh no, is my baby hurt?” you coo, cupping his face and teasingly baby-talking to him. He playfully rolls his eyes, and you give him a quick kiss before turning back to your laptop.

But Seungmin isn’t about to let you slip back into study mode just yet. He gently pulls you to face him again, surprising you. “What’s up?” you ask, laughing at his persistence.

“It’s Seungmin’s time,” he declares, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’ve been glued to your reviewers for too long. Your eyes are practically glowing with radiation. If you were looking at me, they’d be glowing with love instead.”

You let out a burst of laughter, half in shock and half in disbelief. “Babe, what was that?” you say, barely able to catch your breath. His laughter joins yours, both of you laughing at his cheesy line.

“Oh, you’re so in love with me, aren’t you?” you tease, wiping away the tears from laughing so hard. He gently wipes away the remaining tears with a warm smile, looking at you with that familiar, fond expression.

“Just give me a little more time, and I’m all yours,” you say, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before turning back to your studies.

But it’s not long before he notices you rubbing your temples and squinting at the screen, the strain of too much screen time taking its toll.

“That’s it,” he says firmly, reaching over to close your laptop. “You need to rest your eyes. Are you getting a headache?”

“A bit…” you admit. “Then no more screen time for now,” he says, guiding you to lie down on the bed.

“Just relax. I’ll take care of everything,” he murmurs, his hands reaching to massage soothing circles against your temples. With your eyes closed, savoring the calm, you smile.

“When did you get so cheesy? The guys would never let you live this down if they found out.” “For you? I don’t care,” he says, pulling you close. "Anything for my girl."

I.N - helps you review, then pulls you into a warm embrace when you get tired.

The usual pre-exam study group you and your friends rely on didn’t come together this time; they all had prior commitments, leaving you to tackle the mountain of material alone.

You understood, of course, but the absence of their familiar company left a quiet void, a shift that made focus harder to grasp. So, determined to shake things up, you headed to the small diner near your house, hoping a change in scenery might do the trick.

But as you flipped through page after page, it quickly became clear that studying solo wasn't working. Every term seemed to slip right through your mind without someone there to quiz you, and with a frustrated grunt, you pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to force the information to stick.

“Easy there, miss pretty”

The familiar, soft voice brought an instant smile to your face. You looked up to see Jeongin’s warm grin, his presence like a balm to your fraying nerves.

“Tough day, love?” he asked, sliding into the seat beside you. “How did you know I was here?” you asked, still smiling.

“Saw your friend’s story. I was surprised she wasn’t with you, so I asked where you guys were. She mentioned you might be here, but I didn’t expect you’d be on your own. You could’ve called me, you know,” he said, gently rubbing small, comforting circles on the back of your hand.

“It’s okay, love. I didn’t want to bother you,” you replied, grateful for his presence. “I thought you were out with the guys. How was that, by the way?”

“It was fun,” he said, his smile stretching wider. “Chan hyung treated us to a meal after losing a game.” His expression was so infectious that you couldn’t help but smile back.

“But hey, are you good? Need any help?” he asked, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. You let out a small sigh.

“I’m struggling to quiz myself. Could you help me?” “Of course, baby. Hand over the flashcards,” he said, taking them from you and shuffling through.

He started quizzing you, his encouraging presence lifting some of the pressure as you worked through each answer. Yet, the growing pile of topics left to study loomed large, and you felt your frustration creeping back.

By the time you missed the last answer, a frustrated huff escaped your lips as you fought back the sting of tears.

“Hey, hey. Let’s take a break, okay?” he murmured, his thumb soothing over your knuckles. “You’re doing great. You just need to breathe.” “No,” you insisted, shaking your head.

“Let’s go through them again, from the start. I can get it right.” You handed the flashcards back to him with determination. Jeongin looked ready to protest, but then—right on cue—your stomach growled, loud and insistent.

The two of you froze, then burst into laughter, the tension breaking in an instant.“See?” he chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You’re just hungry. Let’s get you some food. I’ll buy you anything you want.”

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you said, eyes misting with emotion.“We’re both lucky,” he replied softly, gently wiping away a stray tear before pressing a warm kiss to your cheek.

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss - Pt.8

Pairing: Minchan x femReader (mention of Changlix)

Word Count: 3478

Summary: Three weeks later, you're still feeling left out. Your therapist suggests communicating your worries to your husbands, but this doesn't go as planned.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, therapy, verbal fight, anxious!chan, min gets defensive

A/N: After part seven I thought I'd be done with one part more tops...well. Once more, there'll be another chapter after this. Ideas/wishes are always welcome, I'll see what I can include🤭🖤

PART SEVEN | PART NINE

Three weeks later 

“And you still don't want your husbands there for the appointments?” your therapist asks kindly. She has been for weeks now. 

“No,” you shake your head firmly. 

“May I ask why?” she asks patiently. 

“Minho has a lot to deal with on his own because he remembers…also, he hates hospitals,” you start and nervously fidget with your hands. “Chan is…different.”

“Different, how?” she responds with another question. 

“Distant is the wrong expression by now. He's trying to show me how much he loves me, but I can tell when he gets overwhelmed. He's still figuring things out, finding his place back home,” you tell, and she nods along, taking some notes. “I just…It's not all bad. He gets enough sleep now, makes sure to eat enough, and takes care of himself. It's just so different from what I remember.”

“And Minho? Is he getting the help he needs?” she asks. 

“Yes, he sees his therapist every two weeks. Weekly, if it's really bad, she always manages to squeeze him in,” you tell her. “He tries to hide it, but he still has nightmares. He's able to drive again if he has to, but he gets anxious easily.”

“And where does that leave you?” she asks patiently, nodding at the wooden board between the two of you. There's a figure for Chan and another for Minho, standing close next to each other. Behind them are several smaller figures in darker colors, symbolizing their fears and struggles. And there's you. Yours is smaller than theirs, standing further away as if you're facing them. 

“Alone,” you say, swallowing hard as you notice the distance between the figures. You hadn't thought much about it putting them there but they're painting a clear picture. 

“Are you?” she asks gently. 

“Sometimes,” you nod. “I don't feel like it when I'm alone with one of them. But if it's all three of us…I feel like they don't need me,” you say and subconsciously fondle the tiny head of the figure behind you, symbolizing your negative thoughts. 

“Do you want to change something?” she asks, picking up on it, and you set it between yours and the ones of your husbands. “Add anything?”

“I'm scared of losing them,” you say, and she nods at you, letting you choose another one. You put it next to the one you just moved. 

“May I comment on something?” she asks, and you nod. “You put your husband's fears and struggles behind them. But yours are in front of you, forming a wall between you all. Why's that?”

“Uh…because they've communicated theirs openly with me and are working on them. I didn't tell them I'm scared to lose them or all of the other thoughts running through my head,” you admit. 

“Mhm, so theirs are out in the open…why aren't yours?” she asks patiently, and you drop back into the comfortable chair. 

“I don't know,” you confess. “Maybe because I feel like I can't put more on their shoulders.”

“What happened when Chan told you he's scared to push your boundaries? What happened when Minho panicked?” she asks, flashing you a kind smile. 

“I comforted them, told them it's okay,” you say quietly. 

“And what makes you fear they wouldn't do the same with you?” she asks, making you lower your head a little embarrassed. 

“I don't know,” you admit quietly, feeling tears burn in your eyes. “I should tell them, right?”

She hums gently. “Communication seems to be very important to keep your relationship intact as you're all dealing with certain things.”

-

You're exhausted after your session, but you know you'd have to open up more about your own fears. You follow her outside into the waiting area to pay and frown as you see Chan talking to the receptionist. “Channie?” you ask, confused, and he looks up with a soft smile. 

“Hey, baby girl,” he says sweetly. “I thought I'd come pick you up, I finished early today.”

“Oh,” you nod and open your handbag to get your wallet. Chan introduces himself to your therapist, a warm smile brightening up his gorgeous face. You take out your card, and Chan gently shoves it back inside. 

“Already handled,” he tells you. 

“What? Channie, I had to pay for the whole month today,” you protest. 

“I know,” he nods and gently zips your handbag closed. “It's fine.”

“Thank you,” you nod gently, smiling as his hand finds yours. 

“You got everything?” he asks, and after you nod, you two say goodbye. Once you're in the elevator, Chan pulls you into a strong hug and kisses your hair. “You look like you've been crying. Rough one?” he asks caringly. 

“Yeah,” you nod, burying yourself in his warmth. “Thank you for picking me up, Channie angel.”

“Of course,” he tells you, rubbing your back. 

As you lean into Chan's embrace, you're reminded of the session's revelations. His warmth is reassuring, and it pushes against the shadows of your own unspoken fears. You wonder how to begin sharing them with him, how to bridge the gap that your silence had unknowingly broadened. "I have a lot on my mind," you finally say, your voice muffled against his coat.

Chan's response is soft, filled with his sweet patience. "I'm here whenever you're ready to talk," he assures you, his hand steady on your back. The simplicity of his promise makes something within you ease slightly. Perhaps sharing your inner conflicts wouldn't be as horrible as you feared.

“Thank you,” you nod gently. 

Chan leads you outside the building and to his car, your hand still in his. “I wanted to take you out for coffee, but would you rather go home? Whatever you say is fine, beautiful,” he assures you, and tears brim your eyes. 

“Our favorite spot?” you ask gently. 

Chan smiles sweetly, dimples showing. “Yeah,” he nods, giggling as your face lightens up. 

“I would love to,” you tell him. 

-

When you're back home, the atmosphere shifts as Minho greets you both from the sofa. His smile is shy, a reflection of his ongoing struggles, yet sincere. His eyes light up when he sees you. "Everything okay?" he asks, a subtle concern in his tone.

You nod, squeezing Chan's hand before letting go. "We need to talk, all of us," you say, surprising even yourself with the firmness in your voice. Minho's brow furrows slightly, but he nods, understanding the seriousness of your tone. He gestures towards the empty space next to him. 

As you all sit down, the weight of the moment hangs heavily in the air. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to be as open as possible. "I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed," you begin, your voice stronger than you feel. "Not by you two specifically, but by everything. The fears I've kept to myself are... they're getting heavy."

Chan reaches for your hand again, his touch a silent promise. Minho leans in, ready to listen, to help shoulder the burden you've carried alone for too long. You share your fears—of losing them, of not being enough, of the future that seems so uncertain sometimes. With each confession, the walls you built crumble.

“You know you can always come to us when those thoughts get too much to handle, yeah?” Chan asks gently. 

“You're always there for us, honey, don't forget we're there for you too,” Minho adds agreeingly, gently rubbing your thigh. 

“I know…A lot of it is in my head, but I miss you two,” you admit. “I can't even explain it, but I miss you so much, and I just wish everything would be normal again,” you say, tears brimming your eyes. 

“Y/nnie,” Minho whispers and shakes his head, tears brimming his own eyes. “We have to work with what we got. A lot has happened, and we can't pretend it didn't. We have to find our new normal,” he tells you and timidly takes your hand.

“But we're always here, yeah? You're still our beautiful wife,” Chan chimes in. 

“Well, then start acting like it!” you suddenly burst out, and seeing the hurt and confusion lacing their features you quickly get up. “Start acting like I'm your wife and not just your crush you hold hands with from time to time.” 

“Seriously?” Minho asks dangerously low and Chan swallows, already fearing an outburst of both of you. “Tell me you're joking.”

“I'm not,” you snap at him. “Obviously, I'm not.”

“What the fuck do you need me to do then? What do I have to change, huh?” he snaps right back at you, getting up as well. 

“Guys, please,” Chan tries gently, but you both ignore him. 

“I don't know! But it feels like shit, I'm just some bystander to you two being all lovey-dovey all day!” you burst out. 

“You’re pushing us away, you know that?” Minho retorts, his voice dripping with frustration and hurt. “You say you feel left out, but you've got walls so high, I need a damn ladder to get over them! Every time I try to initiate anything more than the crush behavior, as you put it, you back away.”

“I-” you start, but you can’t form any clear sentence in response. Minho is right, you’ve been denying him to go any further repeatedly.

Chan’s face grows pale, his eyes wide as he watches the confrontation unfold, seemingly frozen in place. “Can we... please not do this?” he stammers, his voice cracking under the strain. “This isn’t helping any of us.”

“You stay out of this!” Minho snaps, turning his glare briefly to Chan. The sharpness in Minho’s tone slices through the tension like a knife, leaving Chan blinking back tears, his hands shaking slightly as he tries to compose himself. “You don’t have to participate in this fight, but let me say my piece.”

“I’m trying to help!” Chan protests weakly, his voice trembling at the thought of you getting into a serious fight. Minho and you almost never fought, but if you did, it was always ugly, hurtful, and fucking loud. He didn’t like it before, but he could barely take it now, getting overwhelmed.  “I don’t want to see us fall apart over misunderstandings and hurt feelings!”

“Well, it’s not just about feelings, Chan!” you shout, your voice breaking as the tears start to fall. “It’s about being seen and heard in this relationship. I feel invisible most days, like I’m just here to fill a space between the two of you! It’s like you don’t care about me.”

Minho blinks at you, and you can tell he needs a moment to process your words. Then he explodes. “If you really feel this way, if everything I do is that useless and meaningless…then I don't know what the fuck I'm still doing here!”

“Minho,” you whisper in shock, and Chan's tears fall freely now. 

“Minho, please don’t say that,” Chan shakes his head, looking at him anxiously. 

“No, seriously, fuck this. Fuck you,” he says harshly, and you know he's trying to cover his hurt with anger. “I don’t care about you, yeah sure,” he goes on. “I stayed by your bedside for weeks, praying that you’d wake up. I have done nothing but respect your boundaries, give you the time you need, and make sure you’re comfortable. What the fuck do you need me to do to think I actually give a fuck about you?!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, and it has both you and Chan flinching heavily. It’s rare he loses composure like this. He’s breathing heavily once he’s done, staring at you with fierce but such vulnerable eyes it makes you sick. He nods to himself as you don’t answer and grabs his phone from the sofa. “You don’t even know what you need. How the fuck am I supposed to, huh?”

“Min, please,” Chan whispers, sensing how hurt his husband truly is behind his mask of anger. 

Minho’s expression softens for a moment, his anger faltering as he sees the tears streaming down his face. “I need a break,” he announces. “I’ll sleep in the guest room; I can’t do this right now.” He shakes his head and meets your eyes for a brief second. “Thanks for the talk,” he says sarcastically as you don’t respond to his prior statements.

You stand still for a second as he leaves before collecting your things as well. 

“Y/nnie,” Chan tries weakly.

“Don’t,” you say sharply, shaking your head. 

Chan flinches as the door to your bedroom slams closed and slumps onto the sofa, biting back a sob. He blindly reaches for his phone and blinks away tears to find his best friend’s number. Felix picks up after the second ring. “Lix, I-I know it’s late-,” he starts weakly.

“Where are you?” he asks worriedly at the distressed sound of his voice. “Do you need me to get you?” he asks, already getting up to search for his keys. His husband shoots him a questioning look, and Felix mouths Chan’s name. Changbin frowns worriedly, getting up as well and grabbing his keys. 

“Can I stay at yours? Just for tonight?” he sniffles helplessly. 

“Of course, Channie,” Felix says soothingly, slipping into his shoes. “You’re at home?” he asks carefully, leaving the house with Changbin right behind him. 

“Yeah…home,” he says, choking on the word. 

“We’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?” he asks gently, waiting for Chan’s quiet hum in response. “Deep breaths, Channie hyung, I’m sure whatever this is it can be fixed.”

“I’m not sure,” he answers shakily. “I’m really not.”

“They got into a fight?” he asks carefully, knowing how much it upset Chan. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. “It was bad, Lix, really, really bad.”

“I’m sorry, Channie,” he says softly. Only a little later Chan meets them in front of the house and they pull him into a tight hug. 

Changbin soothingly rubs his back. “Come on, Channie hyung, let's go,” he gently urges him to the car, handing him a tissue. “You can stay as long as you need to, okay?”

Chan nods and gets into the car, sinking into Felix's arms as the younger one sits down next to him. Felix gently rubs his shoulder and sighs. “It's gonna be okay, Channie.”

Three days later

Waking up, you notice Chan's side of the bed is still made, untouched from the night before. Minho is already downstairs, the clatter of dishes breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the house. As you walk into the kitchen, Minho’s posture stiffens, his usually warm eyes clouded with frustration.

“Good morning,” you say hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper, hoping to ease into the morning peacefully.

Minho nods without meeting your eyes, continuing his task. “Morning,” he replies shortly. 

“I was thinking we could all go out today, maybe get some fresh air together,” you suggest, trying to find a way to get you three to deal with what happened.

Minho pauses, placing a plate down a little too hard. “Chan isn’t feeling well,” he says shortly, finally looking up at you with a mix of irritation and exhaustion in his expression.

“Is it his headache again?”

“Probably,” Minho mutters, turning back to the dishes. “Or maybe it’s just an excuse.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, your voice rising slightly in concern.

Minho sighs, a long, tired exhale. “It means maybe he’s just avoiding us. Avoiding this,” he gestures vaguely between the two of you.

“Minho, that’s not fair. You know how much he’s been struggling with everything,” you counter, feeling your heart rate pick up as the beginnings of anger mix with your worry.

“And what about us?” Minho snaps, his composure breaking. “When do we get to talk about how this is affecting us? You’re so focused on Chan. What about me? What about what I need?”

The accusation hits hard, opening a floodgate of emotions you’d both been tiptoeing around. “I’m trying to be here for both of you and fix this!” you exclaim, frustration overtaking your initial intent to keep the peace.

“Well, maybe try a little harder because I don’t feel it!” Minho’s voice escalates, his tone harsher than you’ve ever heard.

“Guys? What’s going on?” Chan’s weak voice comes from the doorway. His usual bright eyes are dim and shadowed with pain.

You both turn, startled, as Chan leans against the frame, looking between you two with a growing sense of dread. “I just needed some air, that’s all,” he murmurs, clearly caught off-guard by the newly thickened tension.

Minho’s expression softens slightly at the sight of Chan, but his frustration is far from appeased. “We’re just talking,” he says, though his voice suggests it was anything but a simple conversation.

Chan glances at you, his eyes searching for an ally. “It doesn’t sound like talking,” he comments softly, his tone hurt.

“You wouldn’t know; you’ve been avoiding us!” Minho’s outburst swiftly redirects the tension back to Chan.

“That’s not fair, Min,” Chan protests, his voice weak but filled with hurt. “I’m just trying not to make things worse.”

“By not talking? By hiding away?” Minho counters, his voice laced with bitterness.

“Enough!” you finally shout, unable to bear it anymore. “This isn’t helping anyone. We’re supposed to be in this together.” Both fall silent, the echo of your shout hanging between you. The air is thick with unsaid things, each of you caught in your own thoughts. “We need to fix this,” you say finally. “We can’t go on like this.”

Chan nods, looking exhausted. “I know,” he agrees quietly.

Minho doesn’t speak; his jaw clenches as he wrestles with his emotions, but his nod is agreement enough. You all sit down at the dinner table, facing each other.

Chan’s voice is gentle as he suggests, “Let’s each say something we feel without interruptions. Just listen to each other. Really listen.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I feel overlooked,” you begin, the words raw but necessary.

“I feel helpless,” Minho adds, his voice thick.

“I’m afraid of losing you both,” Chan admits, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.

The room grows silent as each confession hangs in the air. You all look at each other, the vulnerability shared creating a bridge that had been missing in the chaos of your misunderstandings.

Chan reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice steady despite the emotion. "I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t see how isolated you felt."

Minho exhales deeply, the tension easing from his shoulders as he acknowledges Chan's words. "And I... I've been so focused on not falling apart myself that I forgot to make sure we're all okay," he admits, his gaze shifting between you and Chan, a silent plea for forgiveness in his eyes.

It's your turn to respond, the atmosphere allowing for more open and heartfelt communication. "I've been afraid of burdening you both with my fears," you say, the admission freeing in its own way. "But I see now that keeping them to myself only creates more distance. I need to share more, not less," you continue, feeling a bit lighter with each word. "I need us to really be in this together."

Minho's hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "I've been scared," he admits, his voice cracking slightly. "Scared that pushing too hard or not enough could end up driving you away. But I see now that not communicating is just as damaging."

Chan, still visibly shaken but slowly regaining his composure, adds, "I thought I was protecting you both from my issues, but I was just isolating myself further. I promise to be more present, even when it's hard."

The conversation turns into a lengthy discussion in which each of you takes turns expressing thoughts and emotions that had been buried under daily routines and misunderstandings. It’s not just about voicing grievances; it’s about rediscovering each other's needs and reassessing how to support each other better.

Chan proposes a weekly check-in, a safe space where anything can be discussed without judgment, ensuring that no concern is too small or too trivial to be voiced. Minho suggests more one-on-one time with each of you to strengthen individual bonds that contribute to the health of the collective relationship.

In the following weeks, the impact of that conversation becomes evident. Slowly, the dynamics in your household start to shift. There's a newfound gentleness in your interactions, a deeper consideration for each other's mental spaces, and an active effort to engage without overwhelming one another.

Feeling less isolated, you find the courage to share your smaller daily fears and joys, discovering that these moments of sharing contribute significantly to your feeling of closeness with your husbands. 

In a relationship as complex and intertwined as yours, challenges are inevitable.

PART SEVEN | PART NINE

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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[violetsiren90]

WIP Thursday Wednesday

Pairing: masochist!Bang Chan x dominatrix!f!Reader (idol au ft. Stray Kids)

Genre: oneshot; professionals to ???; smut/angst; found family

Summary: When your favorite client comes to you with an unusual request, you're unprepared for the world, and the heart, you're drawn into.

Content warnings (for snippet only): 18+ (Minors, DNI); pro dom/client dynamics; aftercare post dom-session, including touching/physical soothing; emotional shift and confusion

Word Count: TBD

Author's Note: This is coming along, guys! It's turning out longer than I anticipated, and I couldn't help but share a little snippet. I'm falling hard for this Chan. 💕

If no one has told you yet today, you are loved snd worthy of love. 🧜‍♀️💜

*Read the introductory snippet here.*

******************************************

Regarding him softly, you bring your left hand to smooth his hair back from his eyes.

"I never noticed, but you do try to bear everything on your own shoulders. You never resist with me," you remark with a little smile.

Chris hums.

“Maybe it’s easier for me to ask you for help because I know it’s an equal exchange, y’know? I pay you and all that.”

…Oh.

It’s as if he’s just handed you a stone and you’ve swallowed it. You nod, slowly, as it sinks down your throat and into your belly. Of course he’s right, that’s exactly what makes it different - what makes it work. So why was it sitting in the pit of your stomach like a sickly little anchor?

Drawing your fingers through his damp curls, you gaze down at him. His fair lashes lay like little whisps against his skin, his full lips just parted as he draws deep, even breaths that expand and contract his chest under your palm. What had you wanted him to say? That you you’re different, somehow, than others? That he trusts you so completely?

Massaging your fingers against his scalp causes his chest to rumble with a groan. The liquid warmth that would usually fill the expanse of your ribcage cools and sinks around the little stone into a chilly mist. You shiver, your hands suddenly clammy.

All at once you want this to be over.

Tilting your head back against the bedframe you shut your eyes, breathing deeply and slowly and shifting your mind to focus on touching him with gentle, deliberate hands.

Get a grip, you think in stern command. This isn’t about you.

You hear him sigh and you open your eyes, leaning forward to look at him. His brown, almond eyes are tracing your face with much the same pace as the fingers you move through his hair. The corner of your lips tugs up into a soft half-smile that he returns. Your eyes move to the hands he’s laid over the one you rest on his sternum and suddenly your gaze can’t meet the one he’s still training up at you.

“You should rest. You have a big day tomorrow,” you hum with a gentle pat to his head.

“I am resting,” he croons. It’s nearly a whine and it makes your smile deepen.

His deep sensitivity to the energy of others, however, has him moving to sit up, and immediately you feel the loss of his weight and his warmth. He lingers near as you sit on the edge of the bed, a few feet of practiced formality between where he stands and where you bend to slip black joggers up your legs. The corner of your eye catches the briefest twitch of his fingers, the slightest lean of his stance over the foot pressed into the carpet that’s nearest your own. You stand too quickly and your head spins.

Your eyes dart up to his as he steps toward you, and in the millisecond it takes you to realize he's handing you your shirt, your heart rate has doubled.

"Good night," you say with a tight smile, slipping the garment over your head.

As you turn, you feel a touch at your elbow.

"Hey..." Chris' head is tilted forward and just to the side as he regards you through the tops of earnest eyes.

They linger, his hand, his gaze.

Don't perceive me, your mind whispers, I no longer know what you will see...

His hand and his eyes finally relent.

"Good night."

[jj-one]

EPISODE 1: HELP! MY HOT GIRLFRIEND CAUGHT ME CRYING AFTER GIVING HEAD! (NOT CLICKBAIT)

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

jisung thought tutoring the hottest girl on campus would ruin his GPA— not his pants. one month later, he’s somehow getting called ‘pretty’ mid-thrust and offering you pocky as a post-orgasm snack.

pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut, fluff, jisung is a loser with a capital L, humor sprinkled in bc i’m unserious asf, lots of references to anime and other dumb stuff, lowkey perv!jisung, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), piv, protected s*x, kinda subby!jisung but he’s still a whore lol words: 5.4k (wasn’t expecting it to be this long… guess i yap too much)

[ note. ] — i had to make another nerd!ji fic bc i literally cannot stop thinking about him 😣 feel free to read my other fic for more context since it’s set in the same universe but i wanted to make a smut ver so here we areeee <33 also, i will be making more parts eventually, hence why it’s labeled as ‘episode 1’ so stay tuned for more !

cross posted to AO3

Jisung thought for sure that was going to die a virgin. Not in a sad, self-loathing kind of way, but more in a “yeah, that checks out,” kind of way. The type of peaceful resignation one might have while unplugging a broken router for the eighth time before crying into a bowl of instant ramen. Because guys like him— guys who quoted Dragon Ball Z unironically, who panicked when girls sat next to them in lecture halls, who built custom keyboards for fun and screamed at League. They didn’t date girls like you.

And they most definitely didn’t sleep with girls like you.

Still, that didn’t keep him from fantasizing. Constantly, shamelessly, unhingedly.

He’d never known what it felt like to have warm walls wrapped around his cock. Never heard those broken whines girls in hentai would make— unless he counted the ones he accidentally let out when he edged himself too long. His hand was simply never enough, no matter how many times he convinced himself he could “recreate the pressure.”

The bottle of lotion and box of tissues on his nightstand weren’t even hidden anymore— they sat like holy relics beside his gaming PC, ready for immediate access the second he closed League and opened incognito mode.

Porn never fully satisfied his craving though, he always wanted more. Even the best JAV compilation or doujinshi fan dub couldn’t compare to the real sickness consuming his brain: you.

You, with the glossy Instagram that he scrolled through like it was the damn Louvre. You, wearing micro bikinis in pool selfies with captions like ‘hot girl summer’ while he rots in bed, sweating and crying at the curvature of your ass.

You, biting your glittery, gel pen in class, leaning across the desk to ask for help, accidentally flashing a glimpse of cleavage so dangerous it made him pause mid-equation like he got hit with a stun grenade. Stalking your Instagram, seeing you in the tiniest baby tees and mini skirts. It was the perfect gooner material.

He’d stroke himself under the covers while biting a t-shirt to keep quiet, muttering your name between gasps like he was summoning a spirit. Fantasies playing out in his head that ranged from soft and romantic— like kissing you breathless during office hours— to completely feral, like bending you over his anime pillow while you called him “pretty boy” and ruined his life.

It didn’t help that you flirted with him now.

That you asked him to tutor you.

That you sat so close during study sessions he could sense your perfume from a mile away and taste the salt from the fries you always stole off his plate.

You laughed at his jokes, called him cute, even once said he had “nice hands,” and he nearly evaporated on the spot. Had to excuse himself to the bathroom with a boner and a prayer.

Every night ended the same. Him, fisting his cock in pathetic desperation at the thought of your pussy swallowing him whole, whispering ‘please’ like a man on the verge of religious enlightenment.

And every night, after he came all over his own stomach, out of breath and guilt-ridden, he’d sigh dramatically and say,

“I’m going to die alone. I know it. I’ll be the guy with the Zero Two body pillow and the unopened condom pack from 2017 that he keeps in case of a miracle.”

He did not, under any circumstances, expect you to be that miracle.

Never in a million years did he think he’d actually have a chance, let alone be dating you. You were just too perfect. The literal girl of his dreams.

Popular. Gorgeous. Cool in the kind of way that made any and everyone want to be around you without knowing why. You had that magnetic charm about you, an easily contagious laugh, a confident stride when you walk, and that dangerous habit of licking your lip gloss mid-sentence like you were in a CW drama.

And yet, somehow, here he was, currently horizontal on his bed, shirtless, breathless, with you on top of him wearing his oversized Bleach t-shirt and not much else, grinning like you’d just won first place in a science fair and a dance battle.

“Are you glitching?” You asked, poking his cheek. “Do I need to unplug you and plug you back in?”

“I- uh- w-what? No- yes? No.” He stuttered like every word had just magically left his vocabulary, he was definitely malfunctioning.

You laughed, head dropping onto his bare chest as he laid stiff as a board, arms hovering midair like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you even now. Even after dating you for a whole month.

“A month,” he whispered, still stunned by the timeline. “That’s like… thirty days of you voluntarily being seen with me.”

“Thirty one,” you corrected, lifting your head to smirk down at him. “Don’t forget the bonus day where you kissed me in front of the vending machine and the entire basketball team clapped.”

“I thought I was going to throw up.”

“You looked like you did throw up.”

Jisung covered his face with both hands and groaned.

God, he still didn’t know how this happened. When you had asked him to tutor you in stats, he assumed you were just kidding— or high. But you weren’t. You’d actually shown up. You’d flirted, sat on his lap one time when all the seats were taken at the library, and then acted like it was no big deal while his soul left his body.

And now here you were. Straddling him. Teasing him. Literally wearing his t-shirt with the anime print on it and calling him “baby” in the kind of voice that should be illegal.

“You’re so tense, Sungie,” you murmur, lightly dragging your fingers down his chest. “I know you like it when I touch you. You make these cute little gasps like a baby bird.”

“I-I don’t sound like a baby bird,” he mumbled, absolutely sounding like a baby bird.

You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Chirp.”

Jisung squeaked.

You lost it, giggling into his neck while he covered his blushy face with a pillow. “Oh my god, stopp- why are you like this- why did you choose me,”

“Because you’re smart, and sweet, and you get all flustered when I call you hot. And because,” you sat up again, hips rolling ever so slightly and watching his pupils blow wide as you rocked against his clothed erect, “you say things like ‘This is just like my fanfic’ under your breath and then deny it.”

He groaned at the sudden friction, arms falling limp at his sides. “You heard that?”

“Babe, I hear everything. Like right now, I can hear how bad you want me to ride you.” You bit your lip, feeling your wetness growing at a rapid pace as you continuously grind on him.

Jisung whimpered. “Okay. I- this is really happening, right? This isn’t like, some kind of VR dream or like a… cursed hentai plotline where I wake up and you’re actually a sentient toaster?”

You blinked. “What the hell kind of anime are you watching?”

He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Nevermind, pretend I didn’t say that..”

You kissed him then. Slowly. Tenderly. Like you had all the time in the world and like you couldn’t believe your luck either. Because yeah, you were the cool girl, but Jisung was the first guy who actually listened when you talked. Who remembered your favorite boba order. Who’d stayed up until 3 am tutoring you and still walked you to your dorm with sleepy, nerdy affection twinkling in his eyes.

So yeah, you were gonna roast him forever— but you were also gonna ruin him tonight.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, reaching down to tug his sweatpants lower.

Jisung was in the midst of catching his breath like he’d just run a marathon. “Y-yeah?”

“After I make you cum, will you tell me all about the sentient toaster anime?”

“…Maybe.”

+

“Okay,” Jisung panted, curling into your side like a baby koala clinging to its mother, “that was better than every hentai I’ve ever seen.”

You snorted into his shoulder. “High praise coming from the man who owns a $300 body pillow.”

“She was limited edition!” He quickly defends himself.

You playfully roll your eyes, kissing his flushed cheek. “So are you, Sungie. So are you.”

And yeah, Jisung still thought he was going to die a virgin once upon a time.

But now, wrapped in your arms with kiss marks littering his neck and your laughter still echoing in his ears— he was just really, really glad that he’s been proven wrong.

+

The moment you straddled Jisung and kissed him again, something shifted in the room.

And not just him having an outer-body experience for the sixth time in an hour.

You pulled back from his lips to look around, and the first thing you said was, “Okay, I have to say it- your room is the most aggressively virgin-coded space I’ve ever been in.”

“I told you not to look too closely!” He whined, burying his face into your neck as you giggled and craned to inspect the chaos surrounding you.

“Let’s see…” you started ticking things off on your imaginary list. “Anime wall scrolls? Check. Neon RGB light strips that make your room look like a gaming dungeon? Check. Is that Hatsune Miku in a glass case next to middle school spelling bee trophies?”

He groaned. “They’re collector’s items—”

“You were runner-up in 8th grade and you framed it.”

“I peaked early, okay?!”

You laughed so hard you fell forward onto his chest. “I love you.”

He froze. “Wh-what?”

You blinked. “I said I love you.”

He looked like you’d just offered him a lifetime supply of ramen and also stabbed him in the heart.

“…I love you too,” he whispered, barely getting it out before he hid under the covers.

You tugged the blanket back down just enough to see his red face. “Hey. Don’t hide. I wanna see you. Look so pretty when you blush.”

“PRETTY?!” He yelped.

You nodded in confirmation, brushing hair off his forehead. “Mmhm. Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. Especially like this- messy hair, pink cheeks, all breathless under me…”

He made the most broken noise you’d ever heard.

His hands gripped your hips like he didn’t know what to do with them, like he was trying not to crush you or himself with how desperate he felt. His eyes were dark now, glazed and locked onto your every move as you slowly ground against the bulge in his sweats.

“This is real, right?” He meant to ask that in his head but blurted it out instead, voice slightly cracking. “This is really happening?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Feels pretty real to me, baby.”

At this point Jisung was spiraling.

Not just emotionally. No, that happened daily.

This was a full-system shutdown.

You’d tugged your shirt off without warning and smiled down at him like it was the most casual thing in the world, and now his hands were hovering awkwardly mid-air like he wasn’t sure if he had permission to touch you or if he was being Punk’d by the gods of horny delusion.

Your skin. Your smile. Your fucking tits.

And worse— worse— as your fingers brushed through his messy brown locks and your thighs shifted over his hips, his brain suddenly screamed,

‘I can’t believe I’m about to get pussy before Jeongin.’

Jeongin, his slightly cooler, slightly taller, still-a-virgin roommate who had three rotating Discord kittens and a suspicious amount of cologne but somehow still never scored.

Jeongin, who walked around shirtless after push-up sessions and said things like “it’s not rizz, it’s charisma” unironically. Jeongin, who once said “I want my first time to be passionate and respectful” but also accidentally downloaded a virus trying to pirate a hentai dating sim.

Jisung had always assumed if one of them was gonna make it out of virginhood first, it’d be the guy with the Uzumaki clan symbol tattooed on his ribs and a social life.

But no.

It was him. Han Jisung. The guy who owned a limited-edition anime titty mousepad and squeaked like a kettle when a girl touched his arm. And now? You were grinding up against him slowly, teasingly, and he was barely clinging to reality.

“Y/n,” he whimpered, clutching your waist like you’d float away. “Can I- can I eat you out? Pleasepleaseplease.”

You blinked rapidly.

“…You wanna—?”

“So bad,” he choked. “I think about it all the time. Like in class. And when I watch those ‘how to’ videos online. Like, the diagram ones, not the porn ones, though I watched those too- but like educationally! For science!”

You stared blankly.

He was sweating.

“Okay,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’re really cute when you beg, y’know that?”

He nearly ascended.

You barely had time to giggle before he flipped you gently onto your back, hair falling into his eyes as he ducked down between your thighs like a man on a mission from God. His hands trembled as he slid your shorts down, breath hitching at the sight of your soaked panties.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. “It’s real.”

You snorted. “What were you expecting? A hologram?”

“I don’t know!” He cried. “I was starting to believe you were some kind of high-level succubus sent to punish virgins.”

You cupped his flushed face. “Wouldn’t be the worst punishment.”

And then he locks in— eyes meeting yours as he sticks his tongue out, licking a long, fat stripe across your clothed slit. Soft. Slow. As if he was trying to memorize you with his tongue, the heat of it makes you jolt. He’s not just tasting you— he’s learning you, tracing intricate patterns with his tongue like he’s trying to decode you one flick at a time. Every motion is precise yet hungry, like he’s writing a love letter in Morse code directly to your pussy. His glasses slipping adorably down the bridge of his nose, solely focused on pleasing you.

You gasped at the feel of him against you, the pressure of his mouth sent heat curling low in your belly, it was torture. Too much and not enough. You needed to feel him without the barrier of soaked lace clinging to your folds, and he must’ve read your mind, because he groaned like he was the one being denied. He kissed your pussy like he was thanking it, mouthing over your clothed core before dragging open-mouthed kisses across your inner thighs, leaving your skin slick with spit and bites to your inner thighs. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, everything about him felt so warm.

His teeth grazed you— playful, hungry— and your hips twitched as he whispered something nasty under his breath, half to himself, half to your cunt. By the time he slid your panties down, your thighs were trembling, tossing the flimsy fabric aside carelessly, like he didn’t care where they landed, only that they were gone. Then he buried his face between your legs like you’d been starving him for his entire life.

His tongue slipped between your folds, hot and greedy, lapping up everything you gave him like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He flicked up and down with obscene precision, wet, messy, relentless— his nose bumping your clit as he moaned deep in his throat, like he needed this, like the taste of you could make or break him. You were soaked, legs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry, and all he did was keep eating like he was trying to crawl inside you with his tongue.

You were loving the way it feels, every bit of you being hit with electricity. Your fingers tangled in his hair the second his mouth met your pussy, gripping tight, yanking just enough to make him groan into you like he was grateful for the pain. He never slowed down. If anything, it made him hungrier, tongue flattening against your slit before flicking up again, sloppy and fast and fucking filthy.

“God- fuck, you’re so messy,” you gasped, thighs twitching around his head. “You like that? Being my dirty little mouth toy?”

He moaned. Moaned. Into your pussy.

Nodding obediently, even as you tugged harder, grinding him closer. His glasses were long gone, hair disheveled, chin dripping with spit and slick as he slurred out something unintelligible against your clit. His tongue working overtime like he was trying to spell your name in cursive with every flick.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, words caught in his throat. “I could live here.”

You threw your head back with a laugh— and then a sharp gasp as he got bolder, messier, more desperate. His hands kept you spread, his tongue curling and licking and worshipping like this was the only chance he’d ever get. He was sure that he’d jizz his pants just from giving you head— sure it’s pathetic, maybe even tragic. But he couldn’t help it. You were just too hot, too perfect, too fucking unreal, and the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your thighs squeezing around his head, it was better than anything his fist or filthy imagination had ever given him.

Your fingers remain tangled in his hair, holding onto him for anchorage. He looked up at you with glassy, pleading eyes, the lower half of his face glistening with your arousal and rosy cheeks. “Tell me I’m doing okay? Please? I read five articles about this. I practiced on a peach.”

You gasped. “You practiced on what?!”

“Nevermind. Just- keep calling me pretty. I swear I’ll die happy right here.”

You tugged his head back down, voice ragged and ruined.

“Then make me cum, pretty boy.”

And he did.

Like a man with something to prove.

Like a nerdy little virgin who had just found his true calling.

Your eyes closed shut at the feeling, falling apart at the seams. Every stroke of his tongue making your insides tighten. You suddenly couldn’t remember how breathing worked, all you saw were flashes of white invading your vision, cumming so hard that you almost saw stars. You cried out, high and broken, hands grasping at his head as you came hard against his mouth.

Jisung moaned through it— loud and messy— tongue never letting up, licking you through every twitch, every gasp, every last jolt of overstimulation until you were tugging at his hair for dear life and gasping for air. Only then did he pull back, lips shiny, eyes half-lidded, face absolutely drenched, and smiling like he just beat the final boss of his entire life.

Somewhere in the past twenty minutes between Jisung nuzzling your thighs like a man starved and moaning like he was the one cumming, you had apparently blacked out, transcended the mortal plane, and been reborn as a puddle of girl.

Now, you lay sprawled across his unmade bed, fully clothed from the waist up and violently ruined from the waist down, chest heaving, eyes wet and glassy, one sock half-off your foot like a casualty of war.

And Jisung?

Jisung was cuddled up beside you like the world’s horniest golden retriever, chin resting on your shoulder, looking so smug and soft it was almost offensive.

You could still feel the ghost of his tongue between your legs.

“You sure you’ve never done this before?” You croaked out, blinking up at the ceiling like it had answers.

Jisung tilted his head innocently. “What, that? Nah. I just… researched. A lot. And I… uh, practiced on a fruit.”

You turned your head slowly. “Was it the peach again?”

“…It might’ve also been a mango. For tongue agility. But I named it after you, so it was romantic!”

You tried to snort, but it came out as a wheeze. “I can’t feel my legs, Jisung.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Still taking it as one.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your forehead like he hadn’t just destroyed your entire nervous system with his mouth.

“I feel like I just unlocked a secret side quest,” he victoriously cheered. “‘Satisfy hot girlfriend until she sees God.’ Bonus XP for oral stamina. Am I your favorite now?”

You blinked at him, still fighting for air. “I don’t even know my name right now. You’ve ruined me.”

Jisung squeaked and tucked his face into your neck, practically vibrating with joy. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“You should. I saw the afterlife. It was just a video game buffering screen.”

He laughed, then rolled onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe this is real. You’re real. Your thighs are real. I had a girlfriend and head privileges all in the same night. I feel like I need to call my mom.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too late. She deserves to know her son peaked.”

You smacked him lightly with the nearest pillow, still grasping for air, still dazed.

And then he smiled at you— so big, so genuine, so sickeningly in love that your tired heart clenched.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, y’know,” he mumbled, brushing hair from your face. “Just say the word.”

You looked at him, the boy with anime figures on his shelf, lotion still on his desk, and love in his eyes, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Next time,” you whispered, “I’m returning the favor.”

Mindlessly reaching into his sweats, the second your hand wrapped around his length, you froze.

“…Jisung.”

“H-huh?”

You gave a blank expression. Looking down. Looking back up.

“This is- you’re.. how is this even—?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” he cried. “IT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE, I’M ONLY 5’7!”

You stared at him like he just told you he had a second life as a Marvel superhero.

“Oh my god, I just assumed you’d be, like—”

“Average?!” He gasped, scandalized.

“No! I just- I mean- look at you! You’re this cute little nerd with anime socks and a keyboard with cat ears.. how are you packing all this?!”

You were in utter disbelief, there’s no way your sweet, stammering little boyfriend had been walking around with a dick that big and had no idea what kind of weapon he was carrying. Just raw, untapped dick potential— XL stats on a man who still apologizes when his knees crack too loud. Poor baby had been lugging around a whole third leg, and didn’t even know the first thing to do with it ;(

He simply shook his head, fully tomato red now, flailing beneath you like he was about to spontaneously combust. He watched you like he was afraid to blink. You pumped him once, slowly, watching him shiver under your touch. His lips parted. His back arched. You hadn’t even gotten started and he already looked completely ruined.

“Can I ride you?” You asked sweetly.

He nodded so fast his head could nearly fell off. “Yes. Yes, oh my god, yes- please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You cocked your eyebrow.

“I’ll uninstall League right now if you ask me to—”

You giggled as you rolled the condom down over him, letting his hands greedily grab at your thighs. He was panting, forehead glistening with a sheen of sweat, like his brain was overheating just from the anticipation.

Then you finally lowered yourself, sinking down onto him, gradually, feeling the way you take him so easily from being soaking wet. Jisung mumbles something illegible under his breath as your cunt swallows his cock whole. It didn’t take long for you to reach the end of him since you were already so ready for him, staying in the same position to feel all of him inside you. His cock was splitting you open so nicely, it felt like you were in utter paradise.

And he made the sound.

Like his soul physically left his body, floated into the air, and gave you a salute on the way out.

“F-fuck.. you’re tight, I can’t—” he clutched your waist, eyes fluttering. “I’m gonna die. This is it. This is how I go.” He desperately bucks into you, wanting to feel more movement from you.

You move your hips to match his rhythm as you gain your balance, pressing both hands on his shoulder blades. You bounce slightly up and down on his cock, feeling your walls being filled up by every inch of him. You shifted from grinding on him real slow to picking up your pace indefinitely. Jisung threw his head back against the pillow from the pleasure, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass with the combination of it jiggling as you rode him like a bunny was enough to make him want to burst on the spot.

You leaned down and give him a chaste kiss. “Best way to go, huh?”

He nods vehemently. “Please don’t stop. Ever. I’ll cancel my Crunchyroll subscription for you. I’ll stop buying figurines. I’ll even delete my Genshin account.”

“Okay, now you’re being dramatic.”

He groaned helplessly as you continuously rode him like your life depended on it, breath hitching with every drag of your hips. He was so sensitive, so overwhelmed with it all that he couldn’t stop moaning into your mouth, mumbling broken, incoherent things like, “You feel soso good,” and “I can’t believe I get to have this,” and “Am I still breathing? No? Cool.”

You kissed down his jaw, showing no signs of stopping. You knew this was going to be one of those moments you’d both play on loop in your heads for a long, long time. “Still pretty, baby.”

He pants out. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You simply keep moaning as you kept bouncing on his cock, he was thrusting back into you, going even deeper. Your eyes reaching the back of your skull from the way he was hitting all the right spots. It wouldn’t take long before you started screaming his name and showering him with endless compliments.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Ji.” You were a broken record at this point, nothing but your whines and his grunts filling the room. You felt tense, your clit was throbbing, the pressure build up making you dizzy. Jisung couldn’t keep his eyes off you for a second, the way your tits bounced through your shirt, the way your long acrylics dug into his skin, he wasn’t even sure how he was still alive.

This was better than any of those fake scenarios that he’d absentmindedly create in his head, better than finally beating a level that he’d get stuck on for hours. He was in pure heaven, and he felt his high approaching any minute.

“I-I think ’m gonna cum,” he desperately choked out, rocking into you like a dog in heat.

Jisung was wrecked beneath you. Hands fisting into the sheets, mouth agape, his eyes rolling back every time you sank down fully and clenched around him.

“Fuck, please- please, I-I can’t,” he whimpered, voice shaky, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. His stomach tightening with every motion, trying so hard not to lose it.

You leaned forward and cupped his face, riding him a little harder, the slap of skin soft but steady. “You said you could take it, baby,” you whispered, voice syrup-sweet. “You begged for this.”

“I know, I- just- pleaseplease can I cum?” he panted, nearly on the verge of tears. His voice was raw, wrecked, like every second you didn’t let him was a cruel punishment. “’m so close, I’m- I’ll be good, I swear, just let me.. please—”

You seal his lips with yours, just to quiet the begging, grinning against his mouth as his hands fumbled for your hips again. He moaned into the kiss, his hips twitching helplessly under yours.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you beg,” you airly chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at him. His eyes were wild, glazed over, the pretty sounds he made were like music to your ears.

“Th-thank you,” he sobbed, the gratitude in his voice borderline ridiculous. “’m gonna- I’m- oh my god—”

And with that, he finally let go. Releasing every last drop of his seed into the condom, muscles tensing up, gripping you like you were his only tether to reality. He looked down to see your arousal creating a white, creamy ring around the base of his thick cock, almost about to cum again just from the mere sight alone. Your legs felt like jello, you were weightless, collapsing onto his sweaty, sticky chest as you try to catch your breath, brain all foggy in your post-coital daze.

You didn’t expect him to cry.

Okay— not, like, full sobbing. But a little misty-eyed? A little “what did I do to deserve this?” A sparkle in his gaze as you lay draped across his chest, both of you blissed out and glowing in the soft, RGB-lit afterglow?

Yeah.

He was trying so hard not to sniffle.

“You okay, baby?” You murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his jaw.

Jisung nodded, eyes wide and glassy. “I just… I thought my first time would be like, awkward. Or disappointing. Or I’d accidentally sneeze into someone’s mouth and get banned from touching boobs forever.”

You laughed against his skin. “Definitely didn’t happen.”

“No,” he grins, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “this was better than anything I could’ve ever imagined in my head. Better than my first SSR pull in Genshin. Better than when I tried the seasonal spicy chicken ramen and lived.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “That’s a pretty long list of victories to beat.”

“You’re the only victory that matters.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned playfully, “who is this smooth man and what has he done with my sweaty, anime-obsessed virgin boyfriend?”

He huffed, burying his face into your hair. “He’s still sweaty and obsessed with anime. He just… also happens to be madly in love with you.”

You smiled into his chest.

“Also,” he added, completely deadpan, “I think I saw the shadow realm.”

You snorted. “When?”

“When you said I was pretty and grabbed my—” His voice cracked. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I can’t say it. My ancestors are watching.”

You giggled, shifting to lay next to him and intertwining your fingers with his.

And for a while, it was just quiet. Safe. His hand slowly brushing over your side. Your heartbeat syncing with his. The faint whir of his PC fan still spinning in the corner because, of course, he never actually shut it down.

Then he jolted upright suddenly, as if he remembered something urgent.

“Wait.”

You blinked up at him, amused. “What?”

He slid off the bed, naked except for one, singular sock and scurried to his cluttered desk. You watched, dazed and curious, as he fumbled with drawers and cracked open a cabinet that definitely shouldn’t have had food in it.

Finally, he turned around triumphantly. Holding out a white, rectangular box.

“Pocky.”

You stared. “…Seriously?”

“I always imagined I’d give my girlfriend Pocky after her first time with me,” he said solemnly. “Like a weird little anime reward.”

You sat up and grinned. “You are a weird little anime reward.”

He climbed back into bed beside you and opened the box, pulling out one, white chocolate-dipped stick and offering it with both hands like it was a sacred gift.

You bit it gently from his fingers.

“Mmm. You’re such a good boy,” you purred with a playful smile, “giving me snacks after ruining me.”

He short-circuited. Almost choking on his own Pocky. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I hope so.”

You kissed his cheek, then his nose, and then— just to mess with him— you whispered, “Still thinking about how big you are, by the way.”

Jisung made a noise so high-pitched it could only be heard by dogs. He flopped face down into the sheets, flailing helplessly while you laughed and straddled his back.

“You have to stop saying things like that,” he muffled into the pillow.

“Why?” You asked sweetly, brushing his hair back. “You’re my pretty boy. I’m just appreciating what’s mine.”

He peeked up at you, still pink, still glowing.

“…Promise you’re mine too?”

You leaned down and pressed your lips against his, soft and slow.

“Always.”

[kkochigomi]

skz reacting to a member walking in on you guys

hyung line + HH | maknae line

warnings/tags; dubcon, gn!reader, sub!reader dom!member, exhibitionism, voyeurism, ass eating, roughhousing, riding, sweaty!Jeongin, sweat licking, bad descriptions of a basketball game, poorly edited

It started with you being a backup dancer for one comeback, then goofing around with the members while rehearsing, to you hanging out with them regularly. There are a lot of people in and out of there, all of the friends they've garnered over the years. You're also friends with other idols, so it never occurred to you. You know, you with them.

For the guys, it was an unspoken rule to not fuck their best friends. At least, not in a heat of the moment kind of way. Just in general, not doing impulsive shit will fare better for anyone in the long run.

However, sometimes shit happens. That shit happens to be your most recent backup dancing gig. Let's go through what happens when a certain member caves first.

⦊ Han Jisung ⦉

You don’t really see Jisung as an option for sex or romance. Why? Well. He’s a dork. All he does is laugh loudly and fall out of chairs and look around like it was someone else’s fault. Maybe people would notice his dorito build if he wasn’t always breaking out into song maliciously. And so loud. 

being walked in on

So it’s safe to say what happened was heat of the moment. It was a whirlwind. All you remember is that Jisung got quieter in your vicinity. Jisung can’t focus anymore when you’re in the room. All he thinks about is your ass in those shorts and that move where you spread your legs. If you read the previous part with hyung line, I feel like we’re acquainted enough by now. Jisung wants to bury his face in your ass. He wants to worship it. He wants a lap dance. He wants you to sit on his face. Thoughts like this are all that plagues his mind when he sees you. He doesn’t even need the video when masturbating like Chan, he can cum on the thought alone.

Not only have you noticed his change in demeanor, you’ve caught him staring at your ass. That’s when the thoughts of you with him started in your mind. You didn’t think it was possible but the thought isn’t that bad. His dorito build is suddenly very apparent. So you sit on his bed, taking in how he’s looking at you for eyed, and you let yourself cave. You kiss him, pleased by how hungrily he’s kissing back. He breaks the kiss to whisper a breathy “I need to taste you”.

And that’s how Jisung’s dreams come true. You’re surprised by how good he is, making you wonder how often he’s done it. Doesn’t matter right now, not with how good it feels. You moan into his comforter uncontrollably, the sensation feeling unbearably good.

All it takes is two syllables for the ecstasy to be replaced by fear and embarrassment.

“Someone—"

Jisung pops his mouth off your ass and falls to the ground as you collapse to the bed and fumble to cover your lower half. 

“— finally ate your ass,” Minho says smugly. As you sit there, annoyed as all get out, Jisung is staring blankly at Minho, surprised at how he’s still hard despite his shock and embarrassment at Minho’s presence.

walking in

Jisung likes to be dominated. Doesn’t matter who it is or what they identify as, he wants to be submissive. So hearing your pitiful moans being shoved out of you on his way to get some fruit was less arousing. Plus, he couldn’t even believe what he was hearing, let alone seeing. Nothing like seeing bare asses when you’re not meant to.

“Oh— Hooooly shit!” his hands instinctively fly to his head, his poor phone falling to its demise in the process. Minho looks at him with a fierce fire raging in his eyes after he and you frantically pull your bottoms up.

“Why are you just standing there?!”

Jisung didn't know why. It didn’t occur to him to ask why he was having sex in the kitchen. He was too mortified.

⦊ Felix Lee ⦉

Felix was— in a way— the endearing version of Jisung. Everything you found (playfully) annoying about Jisung, you found cute and funny about Felix. When things were quiet, there was this docile nature to Felix. It made you want to cuddle with him. Platonically, right?

being walked in on (this is long, I’m ovulating and just watched an edit with him lol)

So you asked him and his eyes lit up without him even knowing. Again, he’s just so cute. You guys would cuddle up on the couch mostly, wrapped tightly in a blanket you shared. Oh but do nOT be mistaken. It’s not soft and romantic like watching movies with Hyunjin. Not when Felix is biting your shoulder or putting you in a headlock or smacking your ass. Felix LOVED to wrestle and roughhouse. He had this jokingly short temper. One joke at his expense and he was shaking you by the shoulders.

But all this wrestling had to culminate in something. That something being the two of you on his bedroom floor, tired and heaving as he has your hands pinned above your head to keep you from retaliating. Hyunjin still technically caved first, but something shifted between you and Felix soon after. With you pinned under him and your shirt riding up, he couldn’t help himself. You two didn't kiss, but his hands slid from your wrists, down your chest, to your exposed waist. You grab his forearms, the intensity of the tension weighing on you. It was a pre-established something from the moment you started cuddling. That’s why his hands on you was so intense that night, you two developed a craving for each other’s touch. After that you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You would make it a point to sit next to him and he would do the same. He would absentmindedly trace shapes on your skin or throw his arm around your shoulder.

The roughhousing started getting steamy quick. You would have to move to his or your bedroom, lest Seungmin catch you two kissing each other’s necks and eventually lips. It was intoxicating, kissing him. He tasted so good and you couldn’t get enough of feeling him against you. Maybe subconsciously you were imagining him on that stage. His imagination surely went wild when he saw the video. He immediately got a hard on and had to excuse himself. It was over at that point. He was pushing your shirt over your head and going to town on your nipples with his tongue and teeth. You were fiendish from the pleasure, bucking into him and moaning pathetically. His pants were just barely pushed down enough to free his semi-hard cock. He used his haphazard methods to get your sweatpants down as well, refusing to unlatch from your chest.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he thrusts into you. Between slobbery kisses, you pant against each other’s skin. It isn’t long before he’s flipping you over, running his hands down the slope of your back as he slams into you from behind. The bed frame is smacking aggressively against the wall now, almost drowning out the feverish moans from you two.

A knock at the door has you shooting up and placing your hand against Felix’s stomach to stop his thrusting. Seungmin walks in without waiting for a reply.

“I’m trying to read,” he states simply, not shocked at all by what he’s seeing. Felix is utterly unaffected by Seungmin’s presence. In fact, he’s still thrusting. And you can feel that he’s harder now. 

“Cool. Go to a cafe,” he responds half heartedly.

walking(?) in 

It was a fun night. You, Seungmin, and Felix were watching The Suicide Squad and laughing your asses off. Eating popcorn, throwing popcorn, popping more because (mostly you and Felix) threw it all. And then to top it off, Felix got to take a nice little nap. Things were normal when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, he felt rigorous movement next to him. He opened his eyes to see a blob illuminated by the TV. Underneath a blanket was you seemingly riding Seungmin. You both were suppressing your moans pretty poorly.

More than anything, Felix was shocked by Seungmin’s arms resting on the back of the couch, watching you with his head craned back. Very lazy if you ask Felix.

“Smack her ass or something man.”

You flinch and nearly fall backward before Seungmin catches you. You both look over, lingering in an awkward silence.

“You’re being nosy and critical?” Seungmin says in disbelief, breaking the silence.

“I’m not nosy, you guys are fucking right next to me.”

⦊ Kim Seungmin ⦉

Seungmin has always had an air of authority to him. Despite being three years his junior, Seungmin’s authoritative side is more of a mainstay compared to Chan. Chan needs to be authoritative as a leader, but most of the time he’s just so sunny. Seungmin knows what he wants and he’s not afraid to say it. You're not ashamed to say it turned you on a little.

being walked(?) in on

You told him as much. It was under the guise of a joke, but Seungmin detected and accepted the underlying truth of it. But Seungmin was a tease, and he wasn’t in a hurry. Hence, the slow burn. Yes, Seungmin liked sex, but he wasn’t foaming at the mouth for it.

At least, not until the video. All he wanted was to order you around, and the fact that that turned you on had him adjusting the crotch of his pants. You were coming out of the bathroom when Seungmin pulled you into his room and shut the door. He shoved you against it and held you by your shoulders.

“Wanna be good?”

You nod emphatically, not even phased by the suddenness of it all. He feels his cock throb. He bites his lip as his grabs you by the chin.

“Open up,” He whispers and you drop your jaw open. He drop a ball of spit slowly into your mouth before closing it for you.

“Good. Then be patient.”

And then he just leaves. He even has the gall to ask Felix if he wants to watch a movie with you and him. Felix says yes and now you're on the couch sandwiched between the man who had you pinned to the ground last week and the one who just spit in your mouth. Naturally you try to subtly seduce Seungmin enough to make him give in and take you to his room, but he has the nerve to swat your hand away. Each advance is met with him moving away from you or removing your hands from him. 

So you were pissed. By the time Felix fell asleep, you had a grudge against Seungmin. Now he wants to lean over and squeeze your thigh. You give him the same treatment, swatting his hand away. He’s quick to wrap his hand around your throat and squeeze. If his had on your thigh wasn't enough to send heat to your groin, this surely was.

“What about ‘be patient’ is hard to understand?”

None of it, and neither are the subsequent demands. Stand in front of him, take your pants and underwear off, take his off, straddle him, ride him to get yourself off. Oh he was punishing you big time. No pleas to squeeze your nipples, choke you, slap you, or anything was entertained. You just had to bounce on his cock toward your climax. Before you could get there, Felix’s voice startled you, completely void of grogginess.

“Smack her ass or something man.”

If you weren’t so alarmed you’d fervently agree.

Yeah, when Seungmin replies he’s a little annoyed, but he doesn’t read as angry at all. You're surprised to see how unaffected he is.

He is still undoubtedly hard, by the way.

walking in

You and Felix aren't as quiet as you think you're being. Or maybe it's because Seungmin is reading and needs to focus. He could just go to his room where there will be another degree of separation...

But he's already knocking on the door. Felix hadn't even stopped moaning by the time Seungmin opened the door. Of course Felix isn't stopping, even after Seungmin speaks. He expected as much. Seungmin wonders if one day he'll just cave and ask Seungmin to join. He's begging for it.

⦊ Yang Jeongin ⦉

Jeongin was one of the members you were closest too, but the furthest away from anything sexual or romantic. You were close to Felix and Hyunjin, but the thought wasn't impossible with them. Jeongin is your right-hand-man. He is who you go to for advice and gossip. He's who you told about Hyunjin and Felix and he (rightfully) treats the saga like his Monday night soaps.

being walked in on (OOPS THIS IS LONG TOO I NEED DICK)

Jeongin held a lot of shame about how the video made him feel. Where should he start? With how much is at stake? How this would make you feel? How he would feel if any of the guys found out? If Chan was the most dedicated to keeping the status quo, Jeongin was the second most dedicated. But he didn't think like you. He was attracted to you the minute you danced backup for them. He valued you as a friend, though. What ensued was something between heat of the moment and a slow burn

You noticed a difference, it was slight enough that you convinced yourself you were being delusional. Took me long enough to mention it, but you didn't think anything of them seeing your fancam. Sure it was sexy and you felt sexy doing it, but you underestimated just how sexy you were. You thought they'd just comment on the choreography or your performance. You did find it weird that not ONE of them commented on it (in the universe where Jeongin caves first). You were a little sad, because even your best friend had nothing to say. Your most popular fancam and Jeongin is silent. You even probe for information but he tenses up. The signs are starting to build up...

Jeongin is responsible for your recent obsession with basketball, the two of you play whenever you're both free. You're both weirdly quiet this time, though, something weighing heavy on both your minds. The way he tensed up after you brought up the fancam made you watch it yourself. You were suddenly embarrassed for asking all of your friends to check it out. It is as sexual as you can get without tipping into literally miming sex on stage. But does that mean Jeongin...

He might be quiet but he's playing hard. He's wearing a muscle shirt, something he does often, but you're more aware of it now. The definition he's gaining on his muscles. How big his biceps are getting. The sweat dripping from his armpit down the side of his waist. These are things (other than the sweat) you'd compliment him on. You can't bring yourself to say it though. Not with all this tension. You both play a fierce game, not sparing each other on account of the tension.

During one tumultuous battle for the ball, you try to turn your back toward him and he cages you in. He wraps his arms around you, his large hands splayed over yours. The proximity sends your adrenaline skyrocketing. You try to struggle away from him, turn back around to shove him away and shoot before he has the chance to react, but your foot gets caught. Your other fails to compensate and you fall just as you manage to turn to face him. His chest thuds against yours shortly after your back hits the floor.

You can smell his sweat mixing with his cologne and it's worsening your head rush. With his chest against yours and his eyes staring so intensely at you, you need him off but you so need to touch him. You manage both, gripping his biceps, lingering a bit, before giving him a light push to snap him out of his daze.

You both had done it now. There's no going back. You came to visit Chan, surprised to see Jeongin on the couch. Stupid ass Minho told you he went out with Felix and Jake. You guys lock eyes and freeze. It'd be rude to just ignore your best friend, right? So you sit with him, watching tv. Inching closer. You keep replaying that moment on the floor of the basketball court. How much you wanted to lick the droplets of sweat from his neck. It didn't take much to set Jeongin off. You thought you could be sneaky about your hunger, but not when he was hungry as well. The minute your fingers reached for his, his hand was on your knee, then your upper thigh, then... he was pulling away to get the remote. You watch in confusion as he cranks the volume up. He drops the remote onto the coffee table before approaching you.

As soon as he tugs you up from the couch you let your hunger take over. Both of you let your hands roam each other's bodies as you kiss like you're starving. He lifts you up to wrap your legs around his hips, your groins grinding against each other. It's about here that Jeongin stops caring. His mind flips off and he wants your clothes off too. In the process, you both end up lying haphazardly on the couch as his painfully hard couch shoots into you. You grip the couch, strangled moans wrangled from your throat. You get what you want, craning your head forward to lick a long stripe up his neck. It's so perfect, you're somewhere else entirely. That is, until you see a figure out of the corner of your eye.

The sight is so terrifying you shoot up without thinking. You knock your forehead against Jeongin's but the pain doesn't phase either of you. Jeongin jumps up from the couch, desperately collecting a random article of clothes to cover his soft penis. Just like you, Jeongin is utterly mortified. Chan apologizes, but little does he know, him walking in made Jeongin prematurely grapple with the weight of his decisions.

walking in

Jeongin is used to hearing loud noises from Chan's room. He says it helps sometimes to produce with his speakers rather than his headphones. Chan's room is soundproofed pretty well so it doesn't bother Jeongin much. But this noise he's hearing is jarring. Is Chan aware something hard it smacking against the wall. Something might break at this rate.

In a mixture of frustration and concern, Jeongin rushes to Chan's room to alert him ASAP. ASAP meaning not knocking.

"Hyung, what the hell is that?" he says half to himself, half to the man being ridden by you in his computer chair. Oh. Oh yeah. You were here.

His heart stops as realization dawns on him, your naked body all he's zeroed in on.

"What the f- close the door!"

Chan's reddening face and furious eyes are what Jeongin focuses on next, but not for long. He scurries away, not even able to apologize in his state of shock.

[felixbit]

songwriter

pairing: han jisung x gn!reader w. 0.7k genre: fluff summary: your boyfriend jisung's birthday is right around the corner and you have the brilliant idea to make him a song. you learn it's not easy, and you begin to worry it won't work out. warnings: reader overthinks and gets a bit insecure, jisung is of course there to reassure a/n: im so sorry this one is so short!! i promise i'll make up for it with a better hanji fic in the future. felix fic coming tomorrow!

Being a songwriter's partner has benefits.

Every new Stray Kids album that would come out would have some sappy love song written by your boyfriend, Han Jisung. He would send it to you after the album would drop, asking if you liked it. He would then reveal that it was about you, and you had to act surprised.

Of course you loved all his songs. They were beautifully crafted and every single thing made your heart go wild. He put words to feelings you didn't know you had. But, he was so painfully obvious.

His birthday was coming up, and you had a great idea: what if you wrote him a song?

As it turned out, it was a little harder than you expected.

Lines were so hard to piece together and it was near impossible to make proper rhyme schemes. Jisung's ability to write a song was quickly becoming even more impressive than it already was. Even when you started to get lyrics on paper, you had to figure out how it was supposed to be sung.

Whenever Jisung went to the studio, you took special care to see just how he put together melodies. You tried to ask inconspicuous questions, and so far hadn't risen suspicion. You'd settled on trying to figure out playing his guitar instead of doing anything fancy with production.

Learning guitar chords had your fingers aching and sore. Building up calluses and memorizing just where to place your fingers in a short amount of time was no small task. But, you had basic chord progressions down in a few weeks and were on your way to something.

You'd let Chan and Changbin in on the secret of the birthday song, and you were eternally grateful when Chan extended an invite to use their studio. He gave you a ride, showing you inside and some basic functions of how to record.

Even if you didn't end up recording the song, the space was perfect for sitting and conceptualizing music. You had the lyrics pretty much solid, even if you questioned their quality every time you read them.

Halfway through trying to run through the song, anxiety started to creep up on you. Jisung's birthday was tomorrow, and you couldn't decide if you liked the song enough to show him.

Another half an hour of brainstorming, and you were tempted to scrap the song entirely. Everything you had come up with in your head wasn't sounding right when you tried it aloud. How could it compare to his songs?

You heard the studio door open, turning and expecting to see Chan. Instead, standing in the doorway looking perplexed was Jisung himself.

"Jagi, what are you doing here?" Jisung looked at you suspiciously before approaching the couch you were sat on.

You pulled the guitar out of your lap and propped it up against the couch. Shit. "Oh, you know.. you come here often?"

Jisung let out a loud laugh, sitting down next to you and scooting closer. "Your one-liners won't distract me. Why are you here? I mean, I don't mind you being in the studio, but.."

"I.." You looked down at the lyrics still pulled up on your phone screen before handing it over to your boyfriend, "I was doing this."

His eyes scanned over the lyrics a few times with a perplexed look before they shifted back to you. "These are.. lyrics, did you write this?"

Fidgeting, you nodded. "Yeah.. I was thinking it'd be a good thing for your birthday. If I wrote you a song."

Jisung stopped for a moment and looked at you, stunned. "A song? For my birthday? Honey.."

"I know, it's not great, really nothing compared to yours, but-"

"I love it."

You looked up to him, taking your eyes off the floor. He was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. "You do?"

"I mean, it's really sweet. These lyrics, they're... I don't even know how you put these words together in the way you did. The feeling is so real, I didn't think I could feel that through words on a screen like that."

You felt your heart swell in your chest, leg bouncing as your eyes drifted back to the floor. "I mean, it's not that good.."

Jisung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "Don't give me that! It's the best! I would say it's just as good of a birthday present if you'd let me work on actually recording this with you and making it a full song."

"Really?"

Pulling you into a kiss, Jisung smiled. "Yeah! Now, would you please play it for me?"

[hanniebaeee]

Baby On Board

Chris x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!

Genre: strangers to possible lovers, flufffffff

Summary: You see a poor (hot) dad struggling with a crying baby in your flight, and step in to help. And sparks fly.

a/n: Short, but I tried. So tired I wanna pass out. Happy weekend everyone 🫶

It was exactly 58 minutes and 35 seconds since the very cute, very angry baby in 23A began crying.  You couldn’t blame the kid - it was a long-haul flight - the adults were barely coping. Still, the loud wails had your head pounding. 

You peeked over the seat, and saw the lone soldier of 23A. OH. 

He looked absolutely exhausted - but yet gorgeous - messy dark hair, slightly sweaty, dark circles under his brown eyes. He bounced the baby in his arms, trying desperately to calm the poor child down, but it was like she had no plans to stop.

Your heart went out to the poor man. He was trying his best. But a couple of passengers muttered complaints loud enough for him to hear. One guy even hit him with a passive-aggressive, "Maybe some people shouldn't fly with babies."

You’d had enough of the rudeness. And, you did something insane. You stood up, and made your way over to 23A.

“Excuse me,” you said, tapping his shoulder.

He turned around, eyes widening when he met yours. Up close, he looked even more gorgeous, even if completely wrecked. His lips parted as if to apologize again.

“Do you want me to hold her for a bit?” you offered gently, glancing at the red-faced, wailing infant. “It looks like you could use a break.”

His jaw dropped slightly as he asked, “Are you serious?” His strong Australian accent hit you square in the gut.

“Completely serious,” you replied, smiling.

He hesitated only for a moment before nodding, looking like he was about to cry out of gratitude. "Thank you. God, thank you."

He handed the baby over carefully, like she was made of glass. The little one, red as a tomato and just as angry, locked eyes with you. You started gently bouncing her, speaking to her in a soft whisper. She gazed at you, her loud wails softening into tiny whimpers and then as if someone flipped a switch, she fell quiet.

Her father watched in absolute surprise (and some exasperation) as she let out a little sigh, snuggled in against your boobs (of course she did), and fell asleep. Just like that.

"What the…?" The man looked at you like you were a literal angel. "Are you some kind of baby whisperer? How did you do that?!"

“Trade secret.” You grinned.

“Seriously, she hasn’t slept in days. I mean, I haven’t slept in days. I don’t even remember what my knees feel like.” He said. 

“Sleep is for the weak.” You nodded sagely, making him laugh. 

“I can't thank you enough for this… I was this close to jumping out of the emergency exit.”

“Oh not dramatic at all,” You teased. 

“Not at all,” He laughed. “I'm Chris, by the way. And she's Mia.”

“Y/N,” You said, rocking the baby in your arms, her warmth spreading into you like the sweetest hug. 

When you were sure that she was asleep, you leaned forward to place her in the bassinet. It took only a second for the baby’s eyes to snap open, and her face scrunched in fury. She let out a blood-curdling scream that made Chris groan and bury his face in his hands.

“Okay,” you said, sitting back down with the baby nestled against your chest. “I guess this is my seat now.”

He shot you a sheepish, but grateful smile. “You don’t have to do this. I feel so bad…”

“Don’t feel bad,” you interrupted, adjusting the baby in your arms as she snuggled in. “Just so you know, you’re doing great.”

“Am I?” he asked with a self-deprecating laugh, running a hand through his messy curls. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

“You are,” you assured him firmly. “She’s fed, she’s loved, and you’re trying everything. That’s all that matters.”

He exhaled deeply, like your words actually lifted a weight off his chest.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

He laughed again, his whole face lighting up, and suddenly the exhaustion made him look even sexier. How was that even possible? 

You quickly stopped that train of thought. He has a kid. That meant he had a partner. You quickly looked away, feeling a little embarrassed.

Mia whimpered gently in her sleep, and then nuzzled into your soft chest and fell asleep again. Chris sighed, watching his daughter sleep. 

“She’s had colic the past two weeks,” he admitted quietly. “I didn't even know what I was doing wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong, Chris,” You said softly. “These things happen. It's always something or the other with babies. Besides you'd have some support -”

“Her mom’s not in the picture. Left right after she was born.”

You glanced at him, your heart squeezing. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head.

“We were never really together, it's the strangest story really. Ahh, it’s been hard. But… Mia’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Your heart did something that had you holding the baby tighter against you. 

“You’re seriously incredible,” he said, his voice low. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

“Dinner works,” you said casually, surprising even yourself.

He blinked, then smirked. “Are you always this smooth, or is it just me?”

You shrugged, your lips quirking up. “I think it's Mia. But you'd learn eventually…if at all -”

And judging by the way his eyes lingered on yours, it looked like that’s exactly what he intended to do.

You landed, and you tried to hand over Mia to Chris at the baggage claim. But she had a tiny fistful of your soft pink jumper, and was totally unwilling to let go. So here you were, walking beside Chris towards the exit, Mia still fast asleep in your arms and Chris, carrying your small trolley bag along with his massive duffle bag and a little bag of the baby's things. 

You tried to wrestle it off his hands, but he shot you a tired but warm smile.

“You’re holding my kid. Least I can do is hold a bag.”

It was hard not to feel your heart melt at his words.

As you walked toward the arrivals area, you could see your best friend Minho waiting for you, spinning his car keys around his finger. His handsome face wore a bored expression that immediately turned into bewilderment when he saw you. 

His sharp gaze flicked from the baby in your arms to Chris, carrying three bags like a domestic god, and back to you.

“Oh my god,” Minho said loudly, striding toward you. “Please don’t tell me you’ve had a secret husband and baby hidden away in Australia.”

You burst out laughing, swatting him on the arm. Even Chris chuckled, though he looked just a little awkward.

“Minho, meet Chris,” you said, still grinning. “And this is Mia. Chris, this is Minho, my deranged bestie. And no, Min, she’s not mine, and I am not secretly married.”

Minho narrowed his eyes playfully. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Nice to meet you, man. And thanks for not jumping to any conclusions.” Chris adjusted the bags on his shoulder, smirking. 

Minho snorted. “Oh, don't mention it.”

“Can you behave for, like, five minutes?” You said, rolling your eyes. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Minho quipped before turning his attention to Chris again. “What’s the story here?”

“Mia's been having a rough time on the flight, so I was just helping out.” you supplied quickly, seeing your gremlin of a best friend already starting to look way too invested in this. 

“Helping out, huh?” Minho’s smirk widened. 

Chris’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and you shot Minho a warning glare. “Don’t start.”

Minho held up his hands in mock innocence. “I didn’t say a word.”

The moment was broken by Mia stirring slightly in your arms. You looked down, your expression softening as you whispered, “Hello there.”

Mia made grabby hands at you, his tiny hands caressing your face.

Chris watched you like you’d hung the stars, his gaze so intense it made your stomach flip. When you looked up and caught him staring, he smiled - a real, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Here,” you said, stepping closer and gently handing Mia back to him. But before you let go, you pressed a soft kiss to her tiny hand.

“Bye, sweetie,” you murmured, your voice laced with affection.

Chris held her carefully, his expression unreadable as he looked at you.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything. Really.”

You nodded, smiling. “Text me about dinner?”

He grinned, the tiredness in his face momentarily replaced by something lighter, more playful. “Oh, I will.”

As he walked away, you felt the weight of Minho’s smirk before you even turned to face him.

“Don’t,” you warned.

“Oh, I’m gonna,” he teased. “So. Flirting with a hot single dad? Is this just a new hobby, or should I expect babysitting duties soon?”

“I was helping him, Minho.” You groaned. 

“Right,” he said, dragging out the word dramatically. “And I’m here because I love airports.”

You shoved him lightly, but as you walked toward the parking lot, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

Because, honestly? You couldn’t wait for that call.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @sammhisphere @soona-huh @princesskrystix @thecutiepieme

[leriexoxo]

Hands On My Throat

Bestfriend! Chan x Reader

Tags: explicit sexual content, choking kink / neck play, brat taming, praise + possessiveness, slight dom/sub dynamic, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, multiple positions, couch sex, shower sex, best friends to lovers, sexual tension

Word count : 9.6k

Summary: He’s the golden boy of your friend group, also your best friend of ten years. Touchy without thinking. Protective without asking. And hot—criminally hot—without ever being yours. Until one night, in the middle of a crowded living room, his hand wraps around your neck without thinking. And you realize… he has no idea.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Next>>

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There was no knock. There never was.

Chan walked into your apartment like he paid rent—hoodie half-zipped, keys jingling in his hand, the familiar scent of clean laundry and whatever cologne he swiped from his dresser that morning trailing in after him. He kicked off his shoes like a man with no shame and made a beeline for your fridge.

You didn’t even look up from your laptop. “You steal one more yogurt and I’m reporting you to the building board.”

He opened the fridge. “You don’t even like Greek yogurt.”

“You don’t know my life.”

“I know you used it once for a TikTok mask and gagged.”

You grinned. “Okay, fine. But still. Ask before you mooch.”

He shut the fridge and padded over, yogurt in one hand, water bottle in the other. “Never have. Never will.”

Chan dropped onto the couch beside you, close enough for his thigh to press solidly against yours. He stretched his arm behind you like he was at a movie theatre trying to flirt with a stranger. His fingers brushed your shoulder, then stayed there. Rested. Comfortable.

Normal.

You didn’t move. Just kept typing, one leg curled beneath you, the other pressed tight against his. You’d long since stopped noticing how often his body found yours. Chan was touchy—had been since high school. Always stretching across your lap, squeezing your arms, playing with your fingers absentmindedly during long talks. You didn’t even flinch when his palm dropped to your knee now, warm and casual.

This was just how it had always been.

People didn’t get it. Not back in school, not in college, not now when you lived a few floors apart and spent most nights either at his place or yours. The teasing from friends had been endless, and the side-eyes never stopped. But neither of you had ever crossed that line. Not even once.

Not even close.

You were hot. He was hot. That was an objective fact. But hot didn’t mean available. It didn’t mean interested. Not between you two.

Chan opened the yogurt with one hand and shoved the lid at you. “Lick this. Be useful.”

You turned your face slowly. “You want me to lick your foil lid?”

“I’m not dirtying a spoon just to eat this.”

“You’re so unserious.”

“I’m efficient.”

You took the lid, licked it once with a dramatic roll of your eyes, and handed it back. “Happy?”

He grinned. “Always.”

He popped the rest of the yogurt into his mouth and grabbed the TV remote, settling in like he didn’t plan on leaving for hours. You weren’t surprised. Most nights looked like this—Chan in your space, touching you somewhere, somehow, while the two of you talked about everything and nothing. He never asked. You never flinched. You barely noticed anymore.

And even when his hand slid just a little higher on your thigh—thumb brushing back and forth across the thin fabric of your shorts—you didn’t think twice. It didn’t register. Just Chan being Chan. Just another Tuesday.

⸻

Chan’s living room was loud. Like it always was when everyone crowded into his space.

Music buzzed from the Bluetooth speaker someone had connected half an hour ago. Your group of friends were splayed across every surface—couch cushions, beanbags, someone cross-legged on the floor—arguing over which movie to watch while the food delivery slowly made its way through Friday night traffic.

You were curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked beneath you, half-listening, half-scrolling on your phone. Comfortable. Cozy. Familiar.

You’d lost count of how many nights like this there’d been. Movie nights, lazy dinners, game nights that never ended with the actual game. And Chan—always at the center of it. Hosting, leaning against walls with his arms crossed, eyes creased from laughter.

Right now, he was behind you, one knee on the couch as he leaned over to grab the remote off the coffee table. The angle brought his chest close to your back, the edge of his hoodie brushing your cheek before he spoke over your head.

“Why are we even voting?” he asked. “We all know it’s gonna end up being some sad indie movie with subtitles.”

“Because you like chaos,” someone shot back. “We’re trying to have feelings tonight.”

Chan huffed a laugh, dropped the remote onto the cushion beside you, and stayed where he was—half-standing behind the couch, his weight shifting from one arm to the next.

Then you felt it.

One hand landed lightly on your shoulder. And before you could glance back or even think twice, it slid upward.

His palm curved gently around the side of your neck.

Not tight. Not firm. Just resting.

His thumb brushed the underside of your jaw once, then paused, like he was measuring something.

“Huh,” he murmured, half to himself. “Your neck’s tiny.”

He squeezed—not hard, just curious. Testing the width of it in his hand. Like he was checking the fit of something he already owned. His fingers spread easily around your throat, thick and relaxed, his thumb nearly meeting his fingertips on the other side.

You didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

You kept your phone up, face calm, body casual. But inside?

You were choking.

Silently. Violently.

He had no idea.

He wasn’t even thinking about it. It was just Chan being Chan—touchy, absentminded, always touching you. Always. You’d never given it a second thought.

But this?

This was the one place you’d never imagined his hand.

The one part of your body that could short-circuit you with just a look, if the wrong person stared too long. And here he was—fingers wrapped casually around it, thumb brushing over your pulse, eyes probably still on the TV while your soul momentarily left your body.

You blinked. Swallowed. Scrolled aimlessly to mask the tension pooling hot in your stomach.

“Chan,” someone called out. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he said distractedly, thumb still grazing your neck. “Just thinking how weird it is that this—” he gave the softest squeeze, “—could pop like a grape.”

You let out a short, strangled sound that you masked as a cough.

Chan chuckled and finally moved away, dropping onto the armrest beside you with a bounce. His arm still brushed your shoulder, but the pressure on your throat was gone. Like it never happened.

Like it meant nothing.

And to him, it probably didn’t.

But to you?

You weren’t even sure if your breath had come back yet.

⸻

The door shut with a final click.

Silence fell over Chan’s apartment, the kind that only came after hours of noise—empty cups scattered across his counter, the echo of laughter still clinging to the walls. You sank deeper into the couch with a sigh, one hand absently rubbing your shoulder where it ached from sitting in the same position too long.

Chan reappeared from the kitchen, hair pushed back by a band now, hoodie sleeves rolled to the elbows. He tossed a bottle of water onto the coffee table and plopped down beside you, then paused.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said, too quick. “Just… tired.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re stiff.”

You shrugged, not looking at him. “Yeah, well. You try staying upright for four hours while Minho screams at the TV like it insulted his mother.”

Chan smiled lazily. “You’re carrying tension. Scoot up.”

“What?”

He patted the space between his legs. “C’mon. Let me fix it.”

You hesitated, but only for a beat.

This wasn’t new. He’d given you shoulder rubs before—during finals in college, during hell weeks at your old job, after long car rides or moving days. It was Chan. Your Chan. The one person you trusted not to make anything feel weird.

So you shifted forward, sitting cross-legged between his thighs, and let him rest his hands on your shoulders.

At first, it was nothing.

Just firm pressure. The pads of his thumbs pushing slow, rhythmic circles into your traps, rolling out the knots like he had all the time in the world. You melted, just a little, head tipping forward under the strength of it.

“Jesus,” you muttered, “where did you even learn how to do that?”

“Years of stress,” he said. “You get good at fixing what you live with.”

You huffed something like a laugh, eyelids falling shut.

Then his thumbs pushed deeper, finding the ridge near the base of your neck, and you let out a low groan of relief.

It felt too good. Way too good.

But it was still safe.

Until his hands shifted.

Slid higher.

Thumbs brushing the edges of your neck now. Rubbing the muscles that fed into it. Soft. Slow. Intent.

Your body tensed before your brain caught up—and then it slipped.

A sound left you.

High-pitched. Sharp.

Needy.

You bit it back immediately, lips slamming shut, but the damage was done. It hung there in the air for a second too long—too feminine, too out of place for the room’s quiet.

Chan stilled.

You didn’t breathe.

Then—

“You good?” he asked lightly, voice above your head.

You could hear the confusion. Like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard it right. Or if you meant it the way it sounded.

“I—yeah.” Your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. “Just sore.”

He hummed. Didn’t say anything else.

His hands moved again, this time slower, gentler—sweeping wide across your shoulders before sliding up again, thumbs circling your neck with almost tender pressure. Like he was feeling out the muscle tension—but also maybe trying to see if you’d make that sound again.

You were still. Too still.

“Didn’t think you were holding this much here,” he murmured. His thumbs pressed gently into the dip just behind your jaw. “You always carry it this high?”

You nodded too fast. “Y-Yeah. Must’ve slept weird.”

His touch softened, almost affectionate now, tracing down your neck with his thumbs before slipping away entirely. The absence of it made your breath hiccup.

You couldn’t look back at him.

Not yet.

Because now you weren’t sure if he didn’t notice…

Or if he definitely did.

You hadn’t mentioned it.

Neither had he.

Not when you stood to leave a few minutes later, not when he walked you to the door like he always did, not even when his hand lingered low on your back as you slipped on your slides.

If anything, he looked more normal than usual. Relaxed. Even smiled when you told him you’d come by tomorrow to help clean.

“Don’t forget I’m your friend, not your maid,” you said.

He gave your arm a little squeeze. “You’re both.”

And that was that.

Or so you thought.

—

The next day, his apartment looked exactly the same. A few stray cups gathered in the sink, a throw blanket half-draped off the couch, crumbs on the coffee table. You tossed your bag down and got to work wiping things down while he gathered trash from the bedroom.

“You could at least pretend to clean while I’m here,” you called out.

“I am cleaning,” he shouted back. “I just clean in peace. Unlike someone.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning.

It was easy again. Like nothing happened.

Until it wasn’t.

He emerged from the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck, then padded barefoot across the room to take the rag from your hand.

“Okay,” he said. “Can we talk about something?”

You glanced at him. “What?”

He didn’t speak right away.

Instead, he took the rag, folded it neatly, and set it on the table—slow and deliberate, like he was giving you time to brace.

Then he looked at you. Really looked.

“That sound you made,” he said, voice quiet. “Yesterday. When I was rubbing your neck.”

Your stomach dropped. Not in panic. Just in… sheer mortified awareness.

You played dumb. “What sound?”

Chan tilted his head, amused.

“Don’t do that.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” you insisted, backing a step toward the kitchen, like that would save you.

He followed. One step. Two.

“You made a sound,” he said, not letting it go. “High. Like… I don’t know. Not pain. Definitely not pain.”

Your cheeks flamed. “Okay, and?”

“It just surprised me.” His voice stayed calm. Curious. “You don’t usually sound like that.”

You swallowed hard, crossing your arms in a weak attempt at a barrier. “It was nothing. You just hit a spot. I didn’t even realize I—”

“Sure,” he cut in gently. “But… I’m sure I’ve hit that spot before.”

You froze.

He smiled again, but it was slower now. Measured. A little too knowing.

Your voice came out small. “So?”

“So…” he scratched at his jaw, like he was still figuring out what he wanted to say. “I don’t know. It just sounded like… something else.”

Silence.

Heavy. Awkward. Charged.

You looked down. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Chan stepped a little closer.

You could smell him again—clean and warm, the same scent you’d been surrounded by for years. But now? It clung to your skin differently. Sunk into your pulse.

He was watching you carefully. Not pressuring. Not pushing.

Just… observing.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I believe you.”

Relief hit you, fast and fleeting.

“But if you had meant something by it,” he added, voice lower now, “you’d tell me, right?”

Your breath hitched.

He wasn’t teasing anymore.

He wasn’t joking.

You met his gaze—eyes warm, calm, steady. There wasn’t a trace of judgment in them. No expectation either. Just the softest, slightest pull of curiosity.

And something else you couldn’t name yet.

You looked away.

“Clean your damn table, Christopher.”

He smirked. “So that’s a no?”

“That’s a goodnight.”

You grabbed your bag and made a beeline for the door, pulse thudding in your throat, your skin hot all over. You could still feel the ghost of his hand there, even now. Still circling. Still squeezing.

And the worst part? You knew you’d dream about it.

The second you turned toward the door, you knew he wasn’t going to let it slide.

You felt it.

That shift in the air. The narrowing of his patience. Chan wasn’t dumb, and he wasn’t oblivious. You’d slipped out of a hundred close calls with him over the years, danced around every whisper of tension—but now?

He had a thread.

And he was pulling it.

“Wait,” he said, quiet.

You kept walking.

“Don’t be weird about it,” you muttered. “I said it was nothing.”

The words barely left your mouth before you felt his hand curling around the waistband of your sweatpants and pulling you back into him with a snap.

Your breath hitched.

Back to his chest. Spine to his hoodie. You froze, lips parting in disbelief.

“Chan—”

He grabbed your face before you could finish. One hand cupping your jaw, the other squishing your cheeks together so your lips puckered slightly, tilting your head back against him.

Your breath caught.

“Tell me,” he said, voice low—so low it brushed against your ear like a hum. “That moan. Was it your neck?”

You squirmed, heat rushing to your face, but his grip was firm. Not rough. Just insistent. Gentle like the beginning of something you weren’t ready to name yet.

“I said it was nothing,” you mumbled through his hold.

“I heard you the first time.” His hand loosened just enough for your jaw to move, but his palm didn’t leave your skin. “But that’s not what I asked.”

You turned your head slightly, but he followed the motion, chest warm against your back, his breath fanning across your temple.

“I’m not judging you,” he said softer now, almost amused. “I’m just asking… do you have a thing for this?”

His hand dropped—slow, steady—fingertips trailing from your jaw down the curve of your throat.

You stopped breathing.

His palm hovered just under your chin, thumb resting at the side of your neck, fingers spread. Barely touching. Barely grazing.

Then— He wrapped.

Not tight. Not firm. Just enough to feel his fingers circle you.

Just enough to remind you how small you were in his hand.

Everything in you went still.

Your lips parted again—useless, breathless, caught. You didn’t moan this time, but the silence said enough.

Chan’s voice dipped, teasing now. “So you do.”

You turned your face away, jaw tensed. “It’s not like that.”

His hand didn’t move.

“Then what’s it like?”

You stayed quiet, hands fisting at your sides.

“I didn’t even squeeze,” he murmured, voice velvet-slick. “And you froze like I switched you off with a button.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned. “Ohhh. So it’s like that.”

You tried to step forward, but his grip on your waistband tightened just slightly—reminding you he still had you. That he could pull again. That he would.

He leaned in, lips almost brushing your ear now.

“I’m not mad,” he said, gentle. “I’m not freaked out. I just…” his thumb grazed under your chin again, slow, sweet, deadly. “I think it’s kinda cute.”

“Chan,” you warned, but it came out too soft. Too breathy.

He let go of your jaw, finally. Stepped back a little.

His hand dropped from your neck like nothing happened.

But nothing about your body felt normal anymore.

“I’m gonna order takeout,” he said casually, walking to the kitchen. “You want the usual?”

You blinked.

Stared at him, stunned. “Are you serious?”

He glanced back with a smirk.

“Dead serious. But—if you wanna talk more about your kinks after dinner, I’m free.”

⸻

Dinner was a blur.

You barely tasted anything.

Chan ordered your usual like it was a normal night, like he hadn’t manhandled your face and wrapped his hand around your neck barely twenty minutes ago. He sat across from you at his counter, hoodie sleeves shoved to the elbows, digging into pizza while casually talking about Genshin.

You blinked at your own bowl, lips still tingling, mind running marathons.

He’d touched you a thousand times before—your waist, your thigh, your cheek, your lower back—but not like that.

Not with intent.

Not while calling you out about your kinks like he was just checking the weather.

You poked at your own noodles.

“So we’re not gonna talk about it?” you asked.

Chan looked up, chewing, one brow lifted.

“Talk about what?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”

A beat of silence.

Then the softest smirk curled on his lips. “Thought you didn’t wanna talk about it.”

You stared at him.

Something low and hot coiled in your stomach. That smug little tone he always used on you when he knew he’d won—when he baited you into spilling, or laughing, or saying something you didn’t mean to say.

And suddenly?

You’d had enough. You dropped your fork. Sat back in your chair.

“Fine,” you said, eyes locked on his. “You wanna talk kinks? Let’s talk.”

The smile slipped from his face, slow and sharp—like something in him clicked.

“…Now?”

You crossed your arms, chin high. “You started it.”

Chan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Let’s go.”

His voice was low again. Not teasing this time. Steady. Intrigued. Like you’d just pulled a loaded weapon on the table and told him to pick a side.

You swallowed. “We’ve never talked about this before.”

“I know.”

“We said we wouldn’t.”

“I remember.”

“So why now?”

Chan shrugged. “Because you moaned like someone touched your soul when I only grazed your neck and then tried to lie about it. And now I’m curious.”

You flushed.

“Curious about what?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You.”

A silence stretched between you—hot, tight, heavy.

You laughed once, hollow. “God. This is so fucking weird.”

Chan tilted his head. “Is it?”

“Yes!” you threw your hands up. “You’re my best friend.”

“I’m still your best friend.”

“And we don’t talk about sex.”

“We do now.”

Your breath caught.

His eyes were too dark. Too steady. There was no out here.

You inhaled slowly. “Fine. What do you wanna know?”

Chan sat back again, folding his arms. “What else does it for you?”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Dead serious.”

You hesitated.

Then—like the words tasted like sin—you said quietly, “Hands.”

A pause.

Chan’s lips twitched. “Yeah. I figured.”

“Big ones,” you added without thinking. “Veiny. Rough. Confident.”

His eyes gleamed. “That why you always let me manhandle you like a ragdoll?”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m just observing,” he said. “What else?”

You gave him a flat look. “What, you taking notes now?”

He leaned in again, elbows on the table, voice dark velvet. “I will if you keep talking like that.”

Your thighs pressed together under the table.

You looked away. “You go. Say something.”

He was quiet for a second.

Then—casually—“I like brats.”

You choked.

“Excuse me?”

Chan grinned. “Smart mouths. Girls who push back. Who pretend they don’t wanna listen but fold the second I—”

“Okay!” you raised a hand. “That’s enough, Freud.”

He laughed, head tipping back.

But the tension didn’t ease.

If anything—it twisted tighter.

You bit your lip. “So like… choking. Is that weird?”

He blinked. “Is what weird? Wanting it done to you? Or doing it to someone?”

You paused. “…Both?”

Chan tilted his head, thoughtful. “Not weird. But it’s intense.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Another silence.

He watched you. “You like intense?”

You looked up.

His eyes were too sharp again. Too serious.

You whispered, “Yeah.”

He stood.

You froze as he walked around the counter, bare feet soundless against the tile. He stopped in front of you, hand sliding onto your jaw—soft, slow—and tilted your face up again.

Your breath caught.

“You could’ve told me,” he said, voice low. “Any of this.”

“I thought you didn’t wanna hear it.”

His grip firmed just slightly—thumb brushing your cheek, the edge of your lip.

“I didn’t,” he said. “Until you moaned like that.”

His hand dipped.

Neck again.

Only this time, his fingers wrapped tight—not choking, but claiming. Measuring. Knowing.

And this time?

You didn’t pretend.

You looked him dead in the eye as your lips parted on a breathy, involuntary gasp.

“Yeah,” Chan whispered, smiling now. “That one.”

You should’ve walked away.

Should’ve laughed it off, said something dumb and deflective, gone home and buried yourself in blankets until the heat left your skin.

But you didn’t.

You sat there—his hand on your neck, your thighs clenched under the counter, breath caught somewhere in your throat—and you let him.

Chan was quiet. His eyes searched yours, slow and steady, like he was reading pages of you you didn’t even know were open.

His fingers flexed slightly around your neck. A light squeeze.

Not rough.

Just enough to say, I’m still here. You feel me, right?

And God… you did.

“You’re really into this,” he murmured.

You looked away, cheeks warm. “It’s not like I think about it all the time.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

He hummed.

Then leaned closer.

“But you’ve imagined it.”

You stiffened.

He chuckled lowly, and you felt it through his palm, the softest vibration echoing down your spine. “That’s not a no.”

You turned your head, just slightly, and muttered, “You’re annoying.”

He pulled back.

Only to hook his fingers under your jaw again, tilting your chin up like you weighed nothing in his grip. “There she is,” he said, smiling like you’d done something delicious.

“What?”

“That mouth,” he said, tapping your lip once with his thumb. “That bratty tone.”

“I wasn’t being bratty.”

“Mhm,” he smirked, stepping back. “Sure you weren’t.”

He let go.

The loss of contact was immediate—jarring.

Your neck felt cold without his hand on it.

Chan crossed to the couch and collapsed into it, legs spread, arms stretched along the backrest. Like nothing had just happened. Like your whole reality hadn’t just tipped sideways.

You turned slowly. “What the hell was that?”

“What?”

You gestured vaguely at the space between you. “That.”

Chan shrugged. “Just testing a theory.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What theory?”

“That I’ve been missing out.”

You blinked. “Missing out on what?”

He grinned, head resting lazily against the cushion. “This side of you.”

Your heart thumped.

“There’s no side,” you lied quickly. “That was— That’s just how I talk to you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious.”

He cocked his head. “So you’d moan like that if Seungmin gave you a massage?”

You glared. “Seungmin gives serial killer energy.”

“Then what about Hyunjin?”

“Hyunjin cries at perfume ads. I’d never let him near my neck.”

Chan laughed.

You didn’t.

“I’m not teasing you,” he said after a moment. “I just… I don’t know. Feels like we’re finally being real.”

You chewed your bottom lip. “It’s not like I was hiding anything on purpose.”

“I know.”

“I just thought it’d be… weird.”

Chan leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “It’s not weird.”

“You’re not freaked out?”

“Nope.”

You hesitated. “So what now?”

He smiled, that slow, cocky, dangerous smile. “Now I get to learn things.”

Your stomach flipped.

“You’re making it sound creepy,” you muttered.

He stood up again. Walked toward you, deliberate this time.

And when he stopped in front of you again, it felt different.

He wasn’t teasing now. He was… curious. Focused. Like you were a puzzle he’d just realized had more pieces.

His hand came up again—back to your neck—but this time, he didn’t wrap it.

He traced.

Knuckles down your throat. Fingertips skimming your collarbone.

You held perfectly still.

“So sensitive here,” he murmured. “And you never said a word.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“It matters now.”

You swallowed. “Why?”

He leaned in. Close. His breath brushed your lips.

“Because now I’m gonna find out what else does it for you.”

Your legs weakened.

Chan reached behind you and gently pushed you back into the nearest couch, standing over you now, looking down like you were a question he wanted to spend the night answering.

He tilted his head. “You like being told what to do?”

You blinked, heart hammering. “Why?”

“Just wondering how deep the brat thing goes.”

“It’s not a brat thing,” you snapped.

That smile again. Sharp. Addictive.

“There she is.”

“Ugh,” you scoffed, sinking back.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Give me something else. I’ll tell you one of mine.”

You looked at him, wary. “Promise?”

“Swear.”

You exhaled slowly. “I like being touched… slowly. Like… teased. Not rushed.”

Chan’s eyes darkened.

“Oh,” he said. “We’re gonna have fun.”

You blinked. “Your turn.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you. Rested his hands on your knees, just above them.

Then leaned forward and said—

“I like control. But only when someone wants to give it up.”

You froze.

“Like… the second you say stop, I’m out,” he added. “But if you give me the green light…” His thumbs stroked slow, slow circles over your legs. “I’ll ruin you sweet.”

Your breath hitched.

“Too much?” he asked, smiling.

You didn’t answer.

Because truthfully?

You didn’t know if it was.

You weren’t sure what had shifted.

The air, maybe.

Or the weight of his eyes when he looked at you like that—like you were becoming something right in front of him.

But Chan didn’t back down.

He stayed where he was, hands resting on your knees, thumbs rubbing slow, distracted strokes into your skin like his mind was already a step ahead.

“I’ve never really talked to anyone about this stuff,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “Not like this.”

You swallowed. “Me neither.”

“I didn’t think I needed to. Thought I had it figured out.”

“And now?”

His eyes met yours again, and there was something deeper in them now. Darker.

“Now I think I’ve been fucking around in the shallow end.”

You stiffened, legs tensing under his grip.

He felt it.

His thumbs stilled.

“That bother you?” he asked softly.

You shook your head before you could stop yourself.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing like he’d found a loose thread in you. “Then why are your thighs clenched?”

“I don’t know,” you breathed.

“Hmm.”

He moved his hands slightly up your legs, just a few inches, nothing dramatic. But his gaze stayed pinned to yours the whole time.

“Do you like when I talk like that?”

You hesitated.

Chan leaned in, whispering, “Tell the truth.”

Your lips parted, no sound coming out.

He grinned, barely. “Thought so.”

You flushed.

He sat back on his heels, exhaling a little laugh like this whole thing was amusing—and fascinating—and fucking exhilarating.

“I think I like this side of you,” he murmured.

“What side?”

He brought his hand up again, knuckles brushing your neck, then trailing down your collarbone. “The one that can’t sit still when I do this.”

You shivered.

He smiled. “You get quiet when you want something.”

“I’m not quiet.”

“Mm. You’re quieter than usual.”

He leaned in again.

Not touching this time—just watching you breathe.

“You always give this much control without realizing it?”

Your mouth went dry.

“I’m not—” you started.

But he shook his head.

“No, don’t answer. I like watching you try.”

Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.

You were wet.

God, you were already so fucking wet, and he hadn’t even touched you where it mattered. Not once.

He moved one knee forward, bracing his arm on the cushion beside your hips. The shift brought him closer. Too close.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard. Heavy.

Brushing your inner thigh.

Your breath stilled.

Chan didn’t move.

His lips quirked—just barely.

And that’s when you knew.

He felt it too.

Still, he played innocent.

“Something wrong?”

Your eyes flicked to his, wide. “Are you—?”

��I am,” he said calmly. “You surprised?”

You blinked.

“No.”

“Because you’re hot?”

You exhaled slowly. “Because you’re different.”

That made him pause.

“How?”

“You’ve never… acted like this.”

He hummed, low in his chest. “You’ve never let me.”

You stuttered. “I— I didn’t stop you—”

“No,” he agreed, nodding once. “But you didn’t give me an invitation either.”

You looked down, eyes on the space between your bodies, his arousal pressed right up against you like a secret you weren’t supposed to notice.

And still, you didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t say a word.

His voice softened. “So now that we’re here… wanna know another thing I’ve never told anyone?”

You nodded without thinking.

Chan’s fingers skimmed your hip, slow and deliberate. “I like watching people fall apart.”

Your lips parted, breath catching.

“But not in a mean way,” he added. “I like the process. The way your body learns to trust me before your brain catches up. I like how shaky your breath gets when I press on the right spot. How your legs tense when you’re trying not to give in.”

He smirked, voice dipping lower.

“I like hearing that little gasp you just made. And I really like how your thighs are squeezing together again.”

You gasped again, this time audible.

He was rock hard now. You could feel him throb slightly against you. A steady pulse through his sweatpants.

And then—God help you—he moved just a little.

A subtle, deliberate shift of his hips.

Just enough to feel how warm you were.

How ready.

Your jaw clenched.

Chan’s eyes flicked down to your mouth.

And that was his breaking point.

Because suddenly his hand was back—on your neck.

Not squeezing. Not dominating.

Feeling.

Like he was trying to understand how something so small could make him so desperate.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, half-lost in it.

You swallowed. “Then show me.”

His eyes snapped back to yours.

Dark.

Ravenous.

But he didn’t kiss you.

Didn’t push further.

Instead, he leaned in—nose brushing yours—and whispered, “Not yet.”

That’s what he said—low, husky, brushing your lips like a secret.

But then his head dipped lower.

And you felt it—his mouth at your cheek first, warm and lingering, then sliding lower still until his lips brushed your jawline… his teeth barely grazing your skin.

You jolted.

He smiled against you.

“Still holding it together?” he murmured, voice thick with amusement.

And then he bit you.

Soft. Right on your cheekbone. Just enough pressure to make you gasp—nothing overwhelming, but so intimate, so damn suggestive, it felt like your body cracked open around it.

A moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

High. Desperate.

Sinful.

“Fuck…” you breathed, under your breath.

But he heard it.

God, he heard everything.

His mouth dragged to your ear—barely brushing it—before his tongue flicked once at the shell of it and he whispered, “Say that again.”

Your head tipped back into the couch, fingers digging into the cushion beside you.

He watched you fall apart, kneeling between your knees like you were some holy thing unraveling at his mercy.

And then, without even thinking, it slipped out.

“…Chan.”

His name, like a prayer.

Choked. Shaken.

Raw.

He stilled.

Completely.

You opened your eyes slowly, vision slightly hazy, only to find him staring back at you—eyes wide, chest rising visibly beneath his hoodie.

“Shit,” he muttered, like it hit him all at once.

Like he just realized the weight of what was actually happening.

You blinked, cheeks burning. “What?”

He shook his head once. “Say it again.”

“What?”

“My name.”

You bit your lip, too overwhelmed to even fake control.

And that was it.

That broke him.

Chan’s hands flew to your hips, dragging you down the couch cushion just enough for him to lean over you completely. His mouth caught yours in a kiss so devastatingly hot you forgot your own name.

Teeth clashing. Breath mixing.

Tongues tangling like they’d been waiting years for this.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, desperate for something to hold onto as he kissed you like a man starving—like he was angry you’d kept this from him, angry you made him wait.

And the way you moaned into his mouth? The soft gasp you let out when his hand slipped beneath your shirt and splayed wide over your waist?

It shattered him.

Chan groaned against your lips, grinding into you once—slow but solid—and the friction was unbearable.

You whimpered, breath hitching, thighs tensing around his hips.

“Jesus, babe,” he growled into your neck, voice cracking with restraint. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

But you did.

You knew now.

And worse? You loved it.

You tilted your head without thinking, exposing your throat like instinct, and the second his lips found the base of it, the moan you let out was filthy.

Loud. Guttural.

You felt him throb against your core through both your clothes.

And he didn’t even try to hide it.

His hand found your neck again—cradling, not choking. Not yet.

Just holding.

Possessive. Protective. Like it belonged to him.

“You were gonna hide this from me?” he whispered roughly against your skin. “This part of you?”

You whimpered, nails dragging down his back.

Chan laughed. Dark. Breathless.

“Not anymore.”

That was the last thing he said before everything blurred.

Your best friend had kissed you before—on your forehead, your cheek, once at midnight on New Year’s when he was tipsy and too sentimental—but this was different.

This wasn’t affection.

This was possession.

He kissed like he’d earned it—like every time he let you sleep in his bed, every time he pulled you into his chest when you were crying, every time he called you baby under his breath without thinking… was just a slow burn countdown to this moment.

His lips moved against yours like he already knew your rhythm. Like he’d been dreaming of it and now he was tasting it for real.

And when you moaned again? He growled into your mouth.

His hands were wild now, frantic. Pulling at the hem of your shirt, tugging you closer by the hips until you were slotted right against him, heat to heat.

You could feel how hard he was.

And when he shifted his weight and pressed into you deliberately, you gasped—high-pitched and startled.

He tore his lips from yours just long enough to pant, “Fuck. You’re driving me insane.”

“Then do something about it,” you whispered, already breathless.

His eyes flashed.

“Say less.”

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your sweatpants so fast it made your breath catch—and when his fingers reached your panties, he froze.

Because you were soaked.

Dripping.

His fingers brushed along the fabric—slick and clinging—and then he dragged them lower, curling them against the wet heat right between your legs.

You gasped. Shuddered.

Chan’s head dropped to your shoulder, lips at your ear, groaning deep in his throat. “You’re fucking soaked.”

You whimpered.

His fingers stroked once—just enough to tease—before he yanked your sweatpants down in one go, panties and all.

You squeaked, legs instinctively clamping together, but he was already on his knees again, big hands sliding under your thighs and pulling them apart with a groan.

“Let me see,” he rasped. “Come on, babe, show me how bad you need me.”

You swallowed, chest heaving.

You had never seen him like this—never even imagined him like this.

Hair messy, lips red, hoodie halfway off his shoulder as he pushed himself between your legs like a man starving.

And it wasn’t until he looked up—until those dark, wrecked eyes dragged slowly up your body and met yours—that you realized:

You were gone.

Undone. Open.

And he loved it.

His fingers returned, sliding into your folds with maddening slowness.

You cried out, knees trembling.

He sucked in a breath, watching his hand work between your legs like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling.

“Dripping,” he whispered, almost reverent. “All this for me?”

You bit your lip. “Don’t be cocky.”

He smirked.

And then he curled two fingers inside you in one smooth thrust.

You screamed.

Your hand shot out, grabbing at his wrist, your thighs threatening to close—but he was too strong.

He pressed one hand firmly on your stomach, keeping you grounded while his fingers moved—slow, then fast, then deeper.

“Not cocky,” he panted. “Just maybe obsessed.”

You cried out again, body arching, trying to grind into his palm. Every nerve ending in your body was on fire—and he was eating it up.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “Melting for me. You gonna come already?”

You shook your head, biting your fist.

He chuckled darkly. “Don’t hold back now, baby. We’ve got years to make up for.”

You moaned louder—desperate.

And then he stopped.

Just like that.

Fingers sliding out, breath ragged.

You blinked at him in shock, your whole body pulsing.

“What—?”

He wiped his fingers on the hem of his hoodie like it was nothing, then leaned forward and whispered against your mouth, “I’m not letting you come with my hand. Not the first time.”

You whimpered, a broken, trembling sound.

He kissed you again, rougher this time.

And then his hands were on his hoodie, yanking it off in one smooth motion, chest glistening with sweat, body hard and flexed as he stood to kick off his sweatpants.

You stared.

You’d seen him shirtless. You’d seen him in boxers during sleepovers. But this?

This was feral.

Ripped, flushed, bulging under tension—and fully hard now, cock bobbing as he leaned back over you, eyes wild with want.

“You ready?” he asked, voice wrecked.

You couldn’t even speak.

Just nodded.

Because the fire had already started, and now?

You wanted to burn.

You were breathless beneath him—bare, dizzy, skin hot and tingling in all the right places. And when he hovered over you now, sweat-slick and wild-eyed, your best friend didn’t look like your best friend anymore.

He looked like a man unraveling. One second away from ruin. Yours.

His hand slid behind your knee, lifting your leg over his hip. “You good?”

You nodded again, swallowing hard.

He smirked, gaze dropping to your lips.

“You sure?” he asked, dragging the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds—slow, teasing, maddening. “You look like you’re in trouble already.”

And something in you—something playful and wicked—snapped.

“Guess we’ll see if you can handle it.”

Chan paused.

Your voice—usually warm, teasing, light—was lower now. Challenging.

Bratty.

His brows lifted. “Oh?”

You shrugged, purposefully lazy beneath him, your leg tightening around his waist. “I mean… you talk a big game, but—” you made a little face, “—you’ve never even kissing me before today.”

Chan blinked slowly.

Then laughed once—dangerous and deep in his chest—before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head in one swift movement.

“You’re cute when you’re mouthy.”

You gasped, startled, but didn’t stop.

“I’m just saying,” you said sweetly, shifting under him, deliberately dragging your slick heat along his length. “You’ve waited ten years for this. Hope you’re not rusty.”

He stared down at you like you were made of sin and gasoline.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, lowering his face to yours, lips brushing your cheek. “You want me to wreck you, don’t you?”

You smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”

And that was it.

That was all it took.

He snapped.

His hand came down, wrapping tight around your throat and the next thing you felt was the blunt push of his cock stretching you open in one slow, greedy slide.

You cried out, head falling back, legs trembling from the stretch.

“Fuck—”

“That shut you up quick,” he growled, watching your face as he bottomed out.

You whimpered, fully filled now, completely caged beneath him, and for a moment all you could do was breathe.

You weren’t used to this—this intensity. This power shift.

You weren’t used to being his.

Chan didn’t move right away. He stayed there—deep inside you, hand on your throat, his other still pinning your wrists—just watching.

Then his voice dropped to a whisper. “Say my name.”

You bit your lip, eyes fluttering. “…Chan.”

He pulled out halfway.

“Say it right.”

“Chan—ah, fuck—Chan,” you gasped, back arching.

He snapped his hips forward—hard—and your moan broke into a scream.

“You’re soaked,” he panted. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“I didn’t know—” you whimpered, completely undone, “—you’d be like this.”

He smiled against your throat, kissed it once, then bit down lightly on your jaw. “This is what you do to me.”

And when you clenched around him at those words?

He lost it.

His grip tightened—your wrists, your throat, your hips—and he started moving, every thrust thick and deep, sharp enough to send your thoughts scattering into stars.

“Still wanna be a brat?” he growled, pulling out only to slam back in harder.

You whimpered, breath catching. “Yes.”

He chuckled darkly. “Wrong answer.”

He dragged your hands down, pinning them to your chest now as he fucked into you, his entire body a weapon. Every thrust hit somewhere new—some place that made you cry out, curse, beg without knowing you were doing it.

“Look at you,” he said, voice wrecked. “You gonna be good now?”

Your pride screamed no.

But your body—your soaked, trembling, wrecked body—sobbed yes.

You swallowed hard, hips twitching, and whispered up at him with all the strength you had left:

“Make me.”

Chan’s eyes blazed.

“Oh, baby,” he growled, snapping his hips forward again. “I’m gonna make you beg.”

And from the way your legs shook?

You knew he already was.

You didn’t remember when your moans got louder than the thoughts in your head.

Didn’t remember when you stopped trying to talk back and started crying his name like a plea.

But your body remembered. Every inch of it was tuned to his touch now—sweaty, sticky, soaked, and strung out beneath the weight of your best friend losing his damn mind inside you.

He hadn’t stopped moving.

And he hadn’t stopped talking.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he groaned against your skin, hips snapping forward. “Been dreaming about this—about you—for years. You were right in front of me—walking around like that, giving me attitude, pushing my buttons.”

You gasped, fingers dragging down his back. “I wasn’t trying—”

“Bullshit,” he growled, pulling out just enough to thrust back in hard, rocking your entire body against the couch. “You knew what you were doing. You knew I’d snap.”

You choked on a scream, grabbing at his shoulder for balance.

And then, with a glint in his eye, he lifted one of your legs onto the couch arm and pressed forward—deep and low.

You damn near sobbed.

“Fuck, this angle—” he hissed through clenched teeth, “—you’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

You shivered, mouth open, unable to answer—until a familiar bratty smirk broke onto your lips.

“Still think you’re in control?” you managed, breathless.

Chan stopped moving.

Dead still.

And grinned.

“Oh, baby girl.”

And just like that, he yanked out of you, flipped your body, and shoved your front down into the couch cushions.

His hand was already on your back, pressing you down as he lined up again—and when he slid back in with one long, filthy thrust, your scream was muffled in the fabric.

“Who’s in control now?” he grunted, pounding into you from behind, one hand on your hip, the other wrapped around your neck again—pulling you back, making your spine curve deliciously.

You tried to fight it—tried to sass, to squirm—but every stroke hit your g-spot like he’d mapped your body in his dreams.

And when he growled “look at that arch,” you whimpered.

“I can feel you clenching, baby. You gonna come already?”

You hissed, bratty again through your cries. “You wish—”

So he pulled out, flipped you again.

“Keep testing me,” he breathed, dragging you into his lap, guiding you down onto him so slowly it made your eyes roll back.

He didn’t move.

Just held your hips steady, eyes locked on your face.

“You think you’re the one riding me?” he whispered, almost tender—until his fingers dug into your skin and he thrust up hard.

You screamed, forehead dropping onto his shoulder.

“Oh no, baby. You just get to watch this time.”

He started bouncing you on his cock, fucking up into you, his grip rough, his rhythm feral.

“You gonna be good yet?” he panted, breath hot on your cheek. “Or should I fuck the brat out of you?”

You couldn’t speak. You could barely breathe.

But you nodded.

You were gone.

Gone for him.

He kissed your shoulder, then bit it.

And then?

He moved you again.

He was everywhere—his weight, his mouth, his cock so deep you felt like you’d split in half.

Your cries were high and broken now, your hands slipping against his sweat-slick back as he pounded you into the cushions with intent.

And then his hand went right back to your neck—holding, lifting, claiming you while he fucked the soul out of your body.

“You’re mine,” he panted, hips relentless. “Say it.”

You moaned, arching up into him. “Yours—yours, fuck—Chan—”

He dropped his forehead to yours, eyes wrecked, heart thundering.

“Come for me.”

And this time?

You did.

With a scream that could’ve broken glass.

Your body snapped, back bowing, thighs clenching around him, tears streaking your cheeks as the pleasure tore through you.

Chan didn’t stop.

He groaned, deep and desperate, as your walls clenched and fluttered around him—and then he stilled, cock buried to the hilt, trembling against you.

“Fucking—shit—”

You felt him pulse deep inside you, hot and thick.

And when he finally collapsed on top of you—panting, wrecked, his face buried in your neck—you couldn’t stop the soft, breathless laugh that left you.

“…That’s one way to discuss kinks.”

Chan huffed against your cheek.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, kissing your jaw sweetly. “You’ve got no idea how bad it’s about to get.”

—-

Your body was buzzing—tender, used, and so completely ruined that you barely noticed when Chan lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing.

You whimpered at the movement, tucking your face into his neck as he carried you down the hall, both of you still catching your breath.

Neither of you spoke. There was only the soft pat of his feet against the tile, your fluttering heartbeat in your ears, and the low, satisfied hum he made when you clung tighter to his shoulders.

The bathroom light flickered on. Warm. Clean. Familiar.

He didn’t hesitate. Just toed off the last piece of fabric on his body and stepped under the stream with you still in his arms.

The hot water hit your back and you gasped at the contrast—already sensitive, skin electric under every drop.

Chan’s big hands slid over you, soothing, slow. He lathered up a washcloth and began running it gently over your shoulders, your thighs, between your legs with such focus you had to fight the urge to melt all over again.

“You okay?” he asked, quiet against your ear, lips brushing your temple.

You nodded. “…Think you broke me.”

He chuckled, chest rumbling against yours. “Not even close.”

But still, his touch was careful now. Reverent. Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And maybe that’s why you did it.

Why you let your hands roam a little more than they needed to.

Why you leaned in and started trailing soft kisses down his collarbone.

Why your lips didn’t stop there.

Because you couldn’t believe he was real either.

Not like this. Not yours.

He stilled when your mouth reached his chest.

You kissed it slowly, tenderly, running your fingers down his abs, over the ridges of muscle that flexed beneath your touch.

“…Babe,” he whispered, voice low, warning, already unraveling. “Don’t start.”

You looked up at him through wet lashes, lips parted, innocent and knowing all at once.

“Why not?” you murmured, kissing just below his ribs. “You let me fall apart for you. Let me return the favor.”

His breath hitched. He was already hardening again—and he knew it.

You kissed lower.

And lower.

And then you were kneeling—naked, dripping, your knees cushioned by the shower mat, hands already stroking his length back to full, pulsing attention.

He groaned.

“Fuck. Fuck, you look so good down there—”

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, squeezing gently, lips brushing against the flushed head of his cock. He jerked in your hand, and you hummed.

“I never told you my last kink,” you said sweetly, licking a slow stripe along the underside.

His hand hit the wall above your head, unsteady. “Yeah? What is it, baby?”

You smiled up at him—dark, sinful, soft.

“I don’t have a gag reflex.”

Chan let out a noise—guttural, choked, wrecked.

“Jesus Christ.”

And then you took him in.

All of him.

Slow. Deep. Deliberate.

His mouth fell open, eyes rolling back as you swallowed around him, your throat relaxing on instinct.

“Oh my fucking God—” he rasped, hips jerking forward before he caught himself, panting hard, water cascading down his back.

You pulled off with a wet pop, licking the tip before dragging your tongue along the base and sucking him back in just as deep.

He moaned—loud, shameless, one hand grabbing the back of your head while the other gripped the shower wall like a lifeline.

“Fuck, fuck, baby— you’re gonna kill me—”

You moaned around him in response, eyes half-lidded, hands stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.

Every sound he made went straight to your core—deep and breathy and so needy, it felt like a reward just to listen.

“You’re unreal,” he groaned. “Fucking unreal—how is this even real—”

You let your eyes flutter closed, increasing the rhythm, hollowing your cheeks, spit and water dripping from your chin as you let him fall apart above you.

And when his stomach clenched—when his thighs started to tremble—you just held him tighter, took him deeper, and moaned his name from the back of your throat.

“Fuck— I’m gonna come—baby, I’m gonna—shit—don’t stop—”

You didn’t.

Not until his hips jerked one final time and you tasted all of him—thick and hot and desperate on your tongue.

He roared your name, damn near sliding down the wall as his whole body seized, then shook.

When he finally opened his eyes again, you were smiling, swallowing, licking your lips like you’d just won.

Chan stared.

Then laughed—ragged, disbelieving, utterly in awe.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he panted, hauling you up into his arms again. “Mark my words.”

You kissed his jaw, cheeky. “Then what a way to go.”

He groaned, forehead against yours.

“We’re not sleeping tonight.”

And you knew he meant it.

—

The water was still warm when Chan reached for a towel and wrapped it around your body, gathering you into him like you were something precious. Like you might disappear if he blinked.

You were trembling a little—not from cold, but from the comedown. The wild pace of everything. The stretch, the heat, the orgasm that had left your legs like jelly. The way he’d held your gaze while wrecking you on the couch like you weren’t his best friend—like you were already his everything.

Now? Now he was silent. Gentle.

A hand on the back of your head, stroking slowly.

“You okay?” he asked, voice raw and deep, brushing his lips to your temple.

You nodded into his chest. “Mhm. Just… processing.”

He smiled faintly, lifting you into his arms again—still naked, still wet—and carried you to his room without another word. The towel stayed wrapped around you, his hands never letting go, like it physically pained him to stop touching you.

He laid you on his bed with careful hands, kissed your forehead, then disappeared for a moment—returning with your hoodie, a fresh pair of his boxers, a warm water bottle, and a glass of juice.

You stared at him, body curling toward his naturally as you laid there—wrapped in soft cotton, legs still aching in the best way. “So… this really happened.”

Chan tilted his head, gaze steady. “Are you regretting it?”

“No,” you whispered, too fast. Then, “Are you?”

His brow furrowed like you’d offended him. “Baby. I’d do it all over again right now if you weren’t already shaky.”

You flushed, heat blooming up your neck. He noticed it. Of course he did. His thumb brushed the side of your throat, reverent.

“Still can’t believe that’s your kink,” he murmured, soft and possessive and wrecked. “You have any idea what that did to me?”

You licked your lips, looking away. “…There’s more.”

Chan’s eyes darkened. “Oh, you’re gonna tell me.”

You tried to hide your smile. “We never talked about sex in ten years and now you wanna hear all my kinks?”

“Now I need to,” he replied, curling his hand behind your neck and pulling you closer again. “You let me touch you like that. Let me own you. You think I can go back to pretending you’re just my best friend after that?”

His mouth was so close. His fingers were back to stroking your skin, down your back, over the dip of your waist.

Your voice came out quieter now. “I’ve never given up control that easily.”

“I know.” He cupped your jaw, kissed the corner of your mouth. “And I’ll never take that for granted.”

You met his eyes. “But I’d do it again.”

His breath stuttered. And then he kissed you—soft this time, lingering.

“You have no idea how hard I’m holding back right now.”

“I can tell,” you whispered, glancing down at the way his towel was starting to shift.

He growled against your skin, pressing his forehead to yours. “This changes everything.”

You nodded slowly. “But it doesn’t ruin anything.”

“No,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “It just means we’ve got… ten years to make up for. And I plan to.”

You smiled. “So… you’re mine now?”

Chan pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you.

“No, baby,” he said with a dangerous smirk. “You’re mine. And I don’t share.”

Your stomach fluttered. You pushed at his chest, bratty. “Mm. You weren’t this cocky when we were just friends.”

He climbed over you again, straddling you on the bed with that wolfish glint in his eye.

“You never let me touch you like this before. Now I know what you sound like when you moan my name?”

He leaned down, voice dark, hungry.

“You have no idea how cocky I’m about to get.”

And just like that, you knew.

You’d opened Pandora’s box.

And Chan had no plans to close it.

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

Authors note: AAAAAHHHHHHH!!! God this was sooo juicy to write!!!! I am so sorry for my absence guys, theres been so much on my plate… I’ve actually started an original book that i plan to publish some time in the future. 🤭 But I’m here now and ill post more frequently. As for all the requests? I SEE EVERYTHING, I WILL WORK ON THEM!! Just hold on for me babes!

Anyway, if you enjoyed this one, leave me a comment, like and reblog guys!! My taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added or removed!

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