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abishboshofgosh · 1 month ago

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𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: He's moving out. But before he does, he gives you something that you'll remember forever...

Warnings: SMUT 🔞, Angst, Tension. Unprotected sex. Non!idol au. Tears, pet names (baby), beginning of long distance, oral (f. recieving), face sitting, multiple orgasms/rounds.

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: The reason why I wrote this

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it.

Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

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

Word count:6.2k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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Everyone was gathered up in the living room, the table filled with sushi takeout and drinks, music playing on the TV and dim LED lights sparkling, casting a shadow on the walls.

The usual group was here, Jisung already cracking open a beer, Hyunjin in the corner taking videos for his story, and you… sitting beside Chan on the floor, knees brushing.

He laughed at something Seungmin said, head tipping back slightly, dimples flashing. God, that smile. It still hit you like the first time.

But underneath the laughter, there was a heaviness that clung to your chest. This wasn’t just another hangout. This was the last night.

He was moving out tomorrow. New job. New city. And you weren’t going with him.

“Drink?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned closer, holding out a can.

You nodded, accepting it with a quiet “Thanks,” your fingers grazing him. The night passed in a blur of noise and smiles. But your eyes kept drifting back to him.

His hoodie sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his silver ring and bracelets catching the light as he drummed the table absently. The way he leaned back and watched everyone with that gentle gaze.

The way he caught your eye…and held it.

Eventually everyone said goodbye one by one, until it was only you and Chan staying behind in your apartment. You decided to throw him a leaving party. That's the least you thought you could do.

As you started clearing the table, throwing away the takeout boxes and soda cans in the kitchen trash, you suddenly felt something, almost like a warm blanket enveloping you.

"You okay?" Chan's voice was gentle.

You turned, looking at him but not entirely through your shoulder. “Yeah. Just… weird. That you’re really going.”

He exhaled through his nose, stepping closer. “Yeah. It doesn’t feel real.”

"Hmm," you hummed as you loaded the glasses into the dishwasher.

You felt him step closer to you and lean on the counter, watching your weirdly calculated moves. "You'll be dropping me at the airport tomorrow won't you?"

He asked and you turned up to meet his gaze almost immediately, your heart squeezed behind your ribcage but you played a smile.

"Of course." Your voice was barely above a whisper.

The dishwasher door creaked shut with a soft click, but neither of you moved. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, quieter, like the rest of the apartment had dimmed, leaving just the two of you caught in this pocket of time that neither wanted to let slip away.

Chan's gaze lingered on you, as if memorizing your features, your tired eyes, the faint curve of your lips, the way you stood just a little tenser than usual. You knew he noticed.

He always did. That was one of the worst parts about this—how well he knew you.

"You don’t have to,” he said softly. “If it’s too hard.”

You furrowed your brows, stepping closer until there was hardly space between you. “Don’t say that.”

“But it is hard, isn’t it?” he murmured, his voice low, raw. “For me too.”

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? Instead, your hand moved on its own, resting lightly against his chest.

His heart was racing. Just like yours. Maybe worse.

He covered your hand with his own, fingers wrapping around yours like they were always meant to be there.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t let you speak. You just stood there, tangled fingers between you, until he leaned down, pressing his forehead gently to yours.

The moment was soft. Heavy. Intimate in a way that made your lungs ache.

He pulled away just enough to look at you. Then slowly, wordlessly, his hand left yours and found your cheek, warm and steady. He gently squeezed your soft flesh, your face instantly flushed in a gentle smile.

"Squeeze squeeze," he teased, pinching a tiny bit harder. "I'll miss these."

You let out a soft chuckle, one that sounded more like a breath than anything else. “I’ll miss you doing that,” you whispered, voice trembling just enough for him to notice.

He let go of your cheeks and smoothed his thumb over them instead, the pad brushing back and forth like he was trying to ink in the shape of you. His gaze dropped, flicking from your eyes to your lips to the small part of your chest that rose and fell with every uneven breath you took.

The silence that stretched between you both was too much.

His hand was still on your face, fingers brushing your skin so softly it made you dizzy. The kind of touch that lingered. That said, I wish I had more time.

Before you knew it, your lips parted and he leaned down, his lips inches away from touching yours. He smelled like cedar and fresh laundry. Like comfort. Like home. His hand slid behind your neck, fingers threading gently through your hair.

But then, when the proximity was too much to bear, you turned your head, just the slightest ever, but that was enough to reject what was about to come.

"You'll regret doing that."

Was it possible to taste poison just from words? In this moment it surely seemed like. Your words weren't harsh, but it hit him like a car crash in slow motion.

"I will regret not doing it," He said roughly, almost like a command.

Your throat closed around a lump you couldn’t swallow. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his hoodie at his waist, not pulling him in, not pushing him away, just holding on.

“Chan…”

“Tell me to stop. Say it like you mean it… and I will.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Not when he looked at you like that. Not when your body was already arching subtly toward his, a magnetic pull you’d both tried so hard to ignore for too long.

Still, your voice came out strained. “This doesn’t fix anything.”

“I know.”

“And tomorrow, you’ll still be gone.”

"But we've still got like fifteen hours more, baby."

You looked up at him with tears brimming your lashes at the sound of that pet name slipping past his lips.

"I'm not your baby."

"You are my baby,” he repeated, voice low and hoarse. His thumb brushed your cheek, then traced the edge of your jaw, “You always will be. Whether I’m here, or halfway across the world.”

Your heart gave a sharp tug.

Fifteen hours. That’s all you had. Fifteen hours of pretending like it wasn’t ending. Fifteen hours to fall apart, and maybe fall into each other one last time.

The last rational thought in your head screamed at you to turn back before you shoved it aside and crushed your lips against his. It was desperate, messy, laced with all the years worth of hesitation finally giving out beneath the weight of goodbye.

You moaned into the kiss, fingers fisting his hoodie as he pressed you against the kitchen counter, the cool marble a jarring contrast to his feverish touch. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.

Your fingers went up his neck to tug his locks of curly hair, holding onto him like a salvation from destruction as he lifted you off the counter and carried you, stride purposeful and fast, toward your bedroom. His mouth never left yours, lips swollen, breaths tangled, his hands gripping you like he was afraid you’d vanish mid-step.

He kicked the door open, didn’t bother turning on the light. The soft LED glow from the hallway spilled across your sheets, painting your skin in colors of dusk and heartbreak.

Then climbed over you like you were something he was about to ruin—willingly.

Chan’s lips crushed on yours again as he tore your clothes off one by one and removed his shirt, leaving you in your underwear and revealing his bare torso. It wasn’t the first time you have seen him shirtless but it was the first time he saw you like this.

Sweet curves, soft thighs, the perfect tits—fuck you were heaven.

Your skin burned under his stare. Goosebumps rose across your body, even though the room was warm. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was the way he felt you, nothing had barely started but he was already going through a thousand mental positions to take you in.

He leaned down again, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, then over your collarbones. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured against your skin.

“You know I won’t,” you whispered back, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan.

That was all he needed.

He slid down your body slowly, his mouth trailing a heated path over your chest, pausing at your bra. With a flick of his fingers, it was off and forgotten and his mouth latched onto one of your erect nipples while his hand kneaded the other. You gasped, arching into him, the wet heat of his tongue sending pulses straight to your core.

“Chan—” your voice cracked as your toes curled.

He looked up at you, lips slick, eyes hooded and hungry. Then took the nipple back into his mouth, while his hand explored the expanse of your warm skin.

“Let me taste you.” He whispered after long seconds of sucking, leaving the sensitive buds covered with his saliva.

You nodded without hesitation.

With practiced ease, he tugged down your panties and tossed them aside. Then he pulled you toward the edge of the bed, lifting one leg over his shoulder again, the silver anklet giving a soft chime that made him pause and smirk darkly.

“That sound’s going to fuckin’ haunt me when I leave,” he said under his breath.

His eyes fell on your pussy, wet and needy, glazing and perfect that he lost his mind at the sight of it. He leaned and brushed his lips over your awaiting clit, his breath fanning over you. Before you could respond, his head dipped between your legs and your thoughts shattered.

His tongue slid through your folds with devastating precision, slow at first, taking his time like he had all fifteen hours to make you unravel. Your fingers immediately flew to his hair, hips bucking against his mouth, but he only gripped your thighs tighter, holding you down.

“Stay still, baby,” he murmured, voice muffled and sinful.

You tried but you couldn’t. Not when his mouth and tongue were working wonders. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked and the moan that escaped you was like a sound of relief. He went between slow, teasing swipes and intense flicks over your swollen bud that made you whimper his name.

He slid a finger into you, then two, then three curling them just right, syncing every thrust with the movement of his tongue.

His other hand sunk into the flesh of your soft thighs, tight enough to leave his prints, his tongue assaulting your clit and fingers scissoring in you.

Your hips bucked up, wanting more friction and he gave it to you without hesitation. He looked up at you, his mouth never leaving your core, your chest was rising and falling, one hand tugging his hair and the other intertwining with his as he ate you out.

The second the tips of his digits kissed the sweet spot inside you, all thoughts vanished and you came faster than you could register it happening, body trembling, thighs clenching around his head. He groaned against you as you rode out your high, not stopping until you were writhing.

Tears had run down your face, not out of hurt but the sheer sensation of pleasure but he was just getting started. He finally pulled away, his lips were slick with you, his chin wet, and his eyes feral.

He crawled up your body, kissing the inside of your thigh, your stomach, your chest, until his mouth met yours again and you could taste yourself on his tongue. His arm slipped under your waist as he scooped to sit up, his dangerous dark eyes boring into you.

“Sit on my face.” He commanded and you could have sworn your face bursted red.

“W-what?” You blinked, your breathing still a bit uneven, heat flooding your cheeks and between your legs. “I just came…”

“And you’ll come again and again for the whole night,” he said, whiskey eyes locked on yours. “Now be a good girl and ride my mouth.”

Your breath hitched, and your heart thudded so hard you swore he could hear it. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, then lower, where your legs still trembled from the orgasm he had just coaxed out of you like it was nothing. His hands never stopped caressing—one trailing up your spine, the other gripping the curve of your ass.

Slowly, he leaned back against the headboard, broad chest gleaming with sweat, hair tousled, lips still swollen.

You straddled his chest tentatively at first, your hands braced against the headboard for balance.

“C’mon, higher,” he coaxed, gripping your hips with both hands, dragging you up his torso, bracing your knees on either side of his head as you hovered above his mouth.

He didn’t give you time to second guess it. He looked up at you with such hunger, such devotion, that any embarrassment melted away under the weight of his worship.

“C’mere, baby,” he said lowly, voice like gravel. “Let me drown in you.”

His hands slid up your thighs, guiding your hips down until your dripping core hovered just above his face. He held you there for a moment, inhaling deeply, his eyes fluttering closed as if your scent alone was enough to drive him insane.

Your breath caught as you obeyed, lowering yourself slowly. And then his mouth was on your pussy.

He licked a broad, slow stripe through your folds, groaning like a man starved, like he couldn’t believe you were real. You gasped, your hands gripping the headboard behind him as your thighs closed around his head.

His tongue was relentless, circling, flicking, teasing your clit before diving down to fuck you with his mouth. Every movement was pure filth and precision, like he knew exactly how to pull the most obscene sounds from you.

You tried to lift your hips—overwhelmed by the stimulation—but he gripped your ass hard, forcing you to stay put.

“Don’t fucking run,” he murmured against your soaked core. “Take it.”

Your hips began to roll on instinct, grinding against his mouth as your thighs squeezed tighter around his head. The slurping sounds, his groans, your whimpers, it was all shameless, carnal and perfect.

“Chr—Chan, fuck—I, I can’t…” you cried, your body trembling, overwhelmed and raw from how good he was.

“Yes, you can,” he growled, tongue flicking furiously over your clit, one hand sliding between your cheeks to tease your other hole with the pad of his thumb then up the curve of your waist to hold you against him.

Every flick of his tongue, every suck on your clit sent another wave of sensation crashing into you. The angle made it too intense but the sounds coming from below you? The wet, filthy sounds of him feasting on you like you were his last meal?

They only made you grind harder.

He moaned again, louder this time, his tongue plunging into you while his nose nudged your clit, teeth grazing your bundle of nerves, giving you everything. You gasped, head falling forward and your hands holding the headboard so hard your knuckles turned white.

The outline of his bulge was now visible, his cock straining his pants that it felt like it could break out and spring free any second.

Your hips stuttered, thighs squeezing around his head, and you cried out his name as the second orgasm ripped through you—stronger, messier, overwhelming. Your whole body shook with it, tears threatening again from how good it felt. How deep it went.

Your body snapped.

You came with a strangled sob, back arching as your vision blurred, your essence gushing into his mouth and dripping down his chin. He moaned like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, his grip on your hips keeping you firmly pressed to his mouth until he milked every last tremble from you.

When you finally collapsed off him, your body limp and shaking, he caught you with strong arms and pulled you against his chest. His eyes were nearly black as he licked his lips, savoring you.

“Fucking angel,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked. “You taste like sin.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he flipped you onto your back again. His body loomed over yours, chest heaving. He stripped off the rest of his clothes, and your eyes dropped directly to the dark happy trail going down to the thick length of him, flushed and hard, standing heavy against his abs.

You guessed enough times that he was big, but fuck he was huge. There’s no way he’d fit.

Chan lifted your leg, the anklet dangling as he rested it on his shoulder before grazing the pre-cum leaking tip against your puffy folds. The contact made you whimper, your back arched ever so lightly off the mattress, the bulbous head continuing to tease your needy entrance.

You hiccuped, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy as you watched his chest rise and fall like a storm waiting to break. He looked at you, eyes blazing, mouth parted, chest still heaving. His hand slid along your outer thigh, his thumb grazing the anklet.

“You're—” your voice broke, almost barely, “You wouldn't—,” gosh how could you say that out loud? You've had your fair share of filthy thoughts about him but when did it happen? Nothing prepared you for that.

“You were saying?” he murmured, cocking his head slightly, voice lower now. A dangerous kind of calm, like the quiet just before thunder.

You swallowed, lashes fluttering. “You wouldn’t fit.”

His gaze darkened at that. A shiver rolled down your spine at the way his lips tugged into a grin. Not mocking but possessive.

“We will make it fit,” he said.

He guided his length down again, dragging the tip through your folds, soaking it with your slick, teasing the swollen entrance that was already clenching around nothing.

“See how wet you are for me?” he whispered, voice fraying at the edges. “Your body already knows.”

You whined when he rubbed the head against your entrance again, firm, slow, achingly controlled.

He leaned over you, lips ghosting over your mouth as he whispered, “I’m not going to just fuck you. I'm going to make you feel everything. You're going to take what I give you and that's all that's going to be with you forever.”

You swallowed hard, eyes locked with his and letting the tension of his words echo in your mind.

He laid his hard thick shaft on top of your stomach, leaving a trail of anticipation surge through your body. “That’s how far I’ll go. How far you’re gonna take me.” His voice unfolded like layers of velvet and you were already on liquid fire.

Your fingers pressed into the stiffness of his biceps, bracing yourself as he finally began to push in.

Just the tip at first, easing into your swollen entrance with careful control, stretching you slow, watching your face the entire time. You gasped, eyes fluttering shut, back arching, mouth parting, but he stilled.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded darkly.

You obeyed, looking up at him, trembling.

“Good girl,” he growled, before he sunk in the rest of the way, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt inside you. To the very spot he showed that was going to reach.

Your bodies were flush, your walls wrapped tight around him. Your mouth opened in a silent cry, and he let out a guttural moan that vibrated straight through your chest.

He didn’t move for a moment. Just held you like that. Letting you feel and adjust to all of him.

“Too—big, ha,” your acrylics grooved crescents deep enough to leave scars on him, forcing your tight walls to accommodate him.

“You're taking me so fucking well baby,” he brushed his lips against the corner of your eye, holding back from spilling his load right then and there.

Then slowly he began to thrust when the stretching discomfort was replaced, hips moving with a rhythm that felt punishing but reverent. As if he was trying to memorize the plush of your pussy before time ran out.

Every stroke hit deep, right against the spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes, and the way he angled your leg higher against his shoulder only opened you more, made you more vulnerable to his every movement.

“You were mine,” he panted, lips brushing against yours. “You always are.”

“Even if you go?” you choked out, clutching his back as he drove into you again.

“Especially if I go.”

Your head fell back in a scream when his cock hit you in a strong stroke that left no air in your lungs.

The leg resting on his shoulder shifted as he leaned in closer, folding you further until he was practically in your chest, your bodies perfectly molded, your skin flushed and slick with sweat.

He hissed, sinking in, your gummy walls continuing to clamp him. He growled and cursed loudly as he drilled into your hole, leaving no space for either one of you to breathe.

He let you straighten your legs and then suddenly one hand slipped under your back to arch you toward him, the other tangled into your hair, holding you there as he kissed you. All teeth and tongue and breathless moans between your sobs.

You didn’t know where the tears started. Maybe it was the intense fucking. Maybe it was the weight of goodbye closing in on your chest. Maybe it was him—this version of him—falling apart inside you.

His thrusts faltered slightly, and you felt him throb deep inside. “So. Fucking. Tight.”

“God yes—don’t stop—don’t you dare stop,” you whimpered, as your hips began to buck up to meet his, chasing the high clawing its way through your veins.

He kissed you deeply, swallowing every sound you made as he drove into you faster, rougher, the headboard knocking faintly against the wall. The anklet jingled with every thrust, a wicked reminder of just how vulnerable, how claimed you were beneath him.

“Oh my—Chan—”

“Right there?” he smirked, rolling his hips again and again into that perfect angle, his hand coming up to press gently on your stomach. “You feel me deep in there, baby?”

You nodded frantically, eyes squeezing shut as your walls clenched around him.

“I want you to remember this,” he said, leaning down to kiss your temple, then your cheek. “Every time you touch yourself. Every time you're alone.”

“This—”thrust—“how I'm making you feel now”—thrust—“this is mine.”

So many emotions were rushing through your mind, not a single one coherent. One was the pain of him leaving, the other was the pleasure he was giving, and the other knowing that you still have him before you're helpless to stop him.

But despite all those emotions, the tears were still unstoppable. They leaked from the corners of your eyes, down to your face, that crushed his soul.

“Baby…baby…” he slowed his pace, looking straight into you.

“Relax, just relax, I'm right here with you.” he whispered, his voice a soft plea as he cupped your face with trembling hands. The pad of his thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching a tear before it could slip down to your ear.

His thrusts had slowed, just the bare roll of his hips now, like he was afraid to hurt you, like he was grounding himself in your trembling body. “Talk to me,” he murmured, forehead against yours, breaths mingling. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t speak. The knot in your throat was too thick. It wasn’t just sadness, it was the overwhelming contradiction of loving someone you weren’t allowed to keep and watch him go.

“It’s nothing,” you rasped, but he didn’t believe you. You knew he didn’t. He kissed the center of your forehead, then your nose, then the corner of your mouth like he was trying to kiss the hurt away.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly, voice thick. “Don’t pretend it’s nothing when you’re breaking right in front of me.”

Your lip trembled. “Because you’re leaving. Because this—this isn’t just sex, and you know that. You know that.”

He froze. His breath hitched like he’d just been stabbed in the ribs. His eyes trailed down to where you both joined and then back up, pressing his mouth to yours; desperate, searing, tasting of both love and goodbye. “I know,” he whispered against your lips.

“I know. But if I ask you to come with me, would you?”

You stiffened beneath him. His body was still inside yours, his warmth wrapped around you, and yet…the question sucked all the air from the room. He already knew the answer but a part of him hated himself for asking anyway.

“I—” You opened your mouth, but no sound came. Just the silence of your hesitation. Your hands gripped his biceps, fingertips digging in like if you held tight enough, you could stop time.

His eyes were searching yours now. Hopeful. Already hurting.

“I can’t,” you finally whispered. The words shattered between your lips like glass.

His entire frame went still. Then he looked away, blinking hard, his jaw clenching as he withdrew just slightly, like the truth burned too much to stay close.

You closed your eyes shut, more tears streaming down your face. Regret slashed across his face, he leaned in fast, brushing away the cold streaks with his lips.

“I’m sorry…”—kiss— “I’m sorry baby, I shouldn’t have asked you that,”—kiss— “but I’m here with you right now and I need you to be with me please.” He kissed your flushed hot cheeks frantically.

You nodded helplessly, your fingers tangling into his hair, pulling him closer. You gasped as he pressed deeper inside you again, the stretch burning in the most beautiful way. His hands cradled your face as he began to move, imprinting himself into your very soul.

“Look at me,” he whispered, voice ragged as he rolled his hips, grinding against that sweet spot inside you. “It’s only you and me right now.”

Your eyes fluttered open, glazed and glassy as they locked onto his. He smiled softly at you, and you did too, with trembling lips, tracing the line of his sharp jaw with your finger tips.

“You'll be okay,” he said quietly.

You tensed. “Don’t—”

He kissed the top of your head before you could argue, holding you tighter. “No. Let me say this.”

You let him. Even though your chest already ached with the weight of it.

“You're strong, you always are. And I need to believe that when I'm gone, you'll still be smiling, laughing and living your life.”

The weight of his words felt awfully too much to register, so painful but true, and yet, he was still here. Still buried inside you, still holding you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

“I'm only one flight away. Maybe a few hours but I can always come back. I want you to be strong for you and me. But until you can, I will be for the both of us. Okay?”

Your breath hitched, your eyes glistening as you nodded, unable to speak. His grip on your waist tightened as he moved harder now, his hips snapping with more urgency as your thighs wrapped around his waist. His pelvis brushed your clit with every thrust, and the tension built so fast it almost hurt.

He reached down between your bodies, finding your swollen nub with his fingers, skilled and relentless. His other hand laced with yours above your head, pinning it into the pillow as he kept rocking into you, deliberate and deep.

You clenched around him with every drag of his cock, every swirl of his fingers, and soon you were panting, chasing the high that built with blistering intensity.

“I want you to come for me again,” he growled, teeth grazing your lower lip. “Soak me. Let me feel it.”

The orgasm slammed into you like a wave, pulling a scream from your throat as your body arched off the bed, legs trembling, fingers clawing at him. You clenched around him so tight that he cursed loud and broken.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” he choked out, hips stuttering.

“Inside,” you whispered without thinking. “Please. Want to feel you.”

He didn’t think twice. His hips jerked as he spilled hot white ribbons deep inside you with a strangled groan, cock twitching mercilessly and collapsing against you, panting into your neck. You held him as his body blanketed yours, sweaty and warm. His cock still buried deep, twitching inside you as your walls pulsed in aftershocks.

You both remained tangled in each other, breathless and spent, before you opened your eyes to look at him. Eyes red-rimmed, lips kiss-bruised. “More. I want more.” you whispered, shoving down any other thought that threatened to creep up your head.

He lifted his head just enough to see your face. The way you looked at him, soft and broken and hungry for something only he could give, made his chest tighten painfully.

“Yeah?” he whispered, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “You want more, baby?”

You nodded, bottom lip caught between your teeth, eyes glistening. “Don’t stop. Just… make it go away.”

His heart cracked wide open. Because he knew exactly what it was. The morning. The distance. The ache of knowing this was borrowed time. And he would give you everything he had until there was nothing left.

He kissed you again, slow and deep this time, dragging his tongue along yours as he began to move inside you once more. Gentle, languid thrusts that had you gasping all over again. You were so sensitive, every stroke made your body tremble, but you welcomed it. Welcomed him.

“You feel that?” he murmured against your lips, grinding into you with purpose. “How full you are with me?”

“Mhm,” you whimpered, arms tightening around his neck. “Don’t stop, please…”

“Never,” he swore, kissing your temple, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

Your hips rose to meet his, your slick making every movement seamless, soaked with him. His release still inside you, mixing with your own, making each thrust filthy and maddeningly raw.

It was too much. It was never enough.

His lips trailed down to your neck, sucking at the skin just above your pulse, marking you like instinct. Your fingers dragged down his back, nails scoring lightly along his spine, and he hissed against your skin.

He shifted slightly, changing the angle, and you gasped again as he hit deeper, brushing against that raw, sensitive spot that made your toes curl and your walls clamp down around him.

“That’s it,” he groaned, hips stuttering again. “So fucking perfect around me. Can’t get enough of you.”

The shape of his thick cock was basically engraved inside your pussy, the way it kept kissing the spot again and again in a plap! plap! plap!

You felt another wave begin to build but slower this time. A soft burn instead of a wildfire. It crawled up your spine, wound itself around your lungs, and settled deep in your belly.

You didn’t care how many times you climaxed tonight. Didn’t care how messy it was or how sore you’d be. All you wanted was to feel him. To lose yourself in him over and over until the sun came up and you had no more tears left to cry.

His mouth never left your skin. His hands never stopped touching you, holding you like a man who couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.

You came again—harder this time, with a sharp cry into his shoulder—and he followed, body shuddering, forehead pressed to yours as he emptied himself inside you again, deeper, slower, like he was planting himself there. Like he needed to leave a part of himself in you to survive the goodbye.

You both climbed and crashed together over and over till it was physically impossible to go further. Only then did you stop, covered in sweat, filled with his cum, breaths erratic and hearts lost.

Your fingers curled into his hair, cradling his head against your chest as you both tried to breathe. It was everything you never said. Everything you wouldn’t say tomorrow at the airport.

Everything he gave you tonight instead.

His final gift.

His goodbye

***

The next morning you woke up in Chan’s arms, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, your legs tangled like vines under the sheets. The soft golden light of dawn painted the room in a gentle hue, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing on your chest.

His hold on you had loosened—reluctantly. You barely stirred as he kissed your shoulder, one last lingering touch before he slipped out of bed. You listened to the soft patter of his steps, the creak of the bathroom door, and the rush of the shower.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a plain black shirt and faded jeans from last night, hair damp and curling at the ends, his eyes softened the second they met yours. He hesitated in the doorway like he wasn’t ready either.

You got out of bed and quickly freshened up as well, he made you both a coffee and after the quick breakfast he moved to you, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “Let’s go.”

The ride to his apartment was quiet. Hyunjin was already outside waiting when you pulled up. He raised a brow at the two of you but didn’t say much. He didn’t have to. He knew.

As Chan ran to change into a new outfit, grab his suitcase and passport from inside, Hyunjin leaned against the car and gave you a small smile, one laced with quiet understanding. “You holding up?”

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “Trying.”

“Yeah,” he said gently. “Me too.”

Hyunjin hopped into the driver’s seat of your car once he returned, Chan and you slipping to the back. You leaned into Chan’s shoulder, letting the feel of his warmth, his scent, his breathing sink in.

He kept rubbing slow, soothing circles into your hand with his thumb, like he was trying to do the same to you too. The ride to the airport felt like both forever and not long enough.

At the airport, everything moved too fast.

Check-ins, security lines, gate numbers, it all blurred into a whirlwind of fluorescent lights and boarding calls. But somehow, time slowed when you reached the final point. The spot where you couldn’t follow.

The barrier.

“Hyunjin,” Chan turned first to his best friend, pulling him into a firm hug. “Take care.”

Hyunjin hugged him back tightly. “You know I will. You as well, yeah?” He gave him a soft clap on the back, his voice a little thick. “Text when you land.”

Then Chan turned to you.

You weren’t ready.

You didn’t know if you ever could be.

His eyes were unreadable at first. Then he reached up slowly, fingers hooking the chain around his neck, the one he’d worn for as long as you could remember.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already leaning forward, slipping it over your head, the cool metal brushing against your skin before it settled above your heart.

His fingertips lingered there. Over your chest. “Now I’m always with you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Every heartbeat.”

You swallowed hard, blinking fast.

“No matter the time zone, the miles, the bullshit that comes between us, I’ll still be yours. I love you. Alright?”

Your lips parted in a silent cry, eyes filling again. “You promise?”

I love you too

“I do.” He smiled, but it trembled. “I promise you I’ll come back. But until then… hold on to this.”

He wrapped you tightly in his arms, fresh tears slid down your cheeks, soaking his hoodie. He gave you one last kiss. Gentle. Final. Brushing his lips on your forehead, then stepped away before he could change his mind.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he turned toward the gate and then disappeared. You reached for him instinctively but Hyunjin was there, whose arms caught you as your knees buckled, as the sobs broke loose from where you’d buried them all morning.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, just held you as you sobbed into his chest, til your shaking slowed.

Until the pain settled into something quieter.

“You’ll see him again,” Hyunjin whispered eventually, resting his chin on your head. “Don’t worry.”

You clutched the chain at your neck and nodded.

Because even though your heart felt like it had shattered into a thousand pieces. You knew one thing for sure.

Chan carried half of them with him. And you carried his.

No matter the distance.

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