Pairing: Vengeful Mafia Boss Chris x Traitor Fem!reader
WC: 5,128
TW: 18+, MDNI, Explicit sexual content, Power imbalance / possessive dynamics, Physical restraint/rough handling during intimacy, Sexual content in a confined/pressured context, Strong language / profanity, Crime/violence themes, Emotional intensity: guilt, betrayal, manipulation/abuse by a parent, trauma references, Humiliation/embarrassment (being walked in on during sex)
Synopsis: After a tense truce, Y/n finds themself slipping back into Chris’s orbit. Caught between the crew’s wary eyes and a pull neither of them can ignore.
AN: Hello my darling readers! I hope you all are doing alright! Part 12 and the upcoming 13 was and is proving to be very fun to write. I hope you enjoy it just as much as I do! Of course I have to drop a huge thank you to my bestie for the read over on this @snow-flake-writes . Make sure you all leave a comment! I genuinely want to hear your thoughts as things shift between characters and all the drama begins to come to a head.
Y/n's POV
The afternoon light streams through the windows of my room, bright and unforgiving, casting everything in sharp relief. Chris hasn’t left yet. His presence fills the small space like he's taking up all the air, all the oxygen, leaving me breathless in a way that has nothing to do with physical exertion.
We're sitting on the edge of the bed, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. The silence between us is charged, heavy with everything we just said and did, everything we just admitted. His shirt is still on, but his hair is disheveled from my fingers, and there's a faint mark on his neck from where my lips were moments ago.
I can't quite look at him directly. The daylight is too honest, too revealing. It strips away the darkness that usually shields us, makes everything feel less real, less exposed. In the brightness, I can see the conflict written across his features...the war between what he wants and what he thinks he should do.
"I shouldn't be here," he says quietly, but he doesn't move. Doesn't make any effort to leave.
"But you are," I reply, my voice barely audible.
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration or maybe just trying to ground himself. "The crew—"
"Is downstairs. Doing whatever it is they do." I shift slightly closer, and I see him tense. "We have time."
The word time hangs between us like a promise and a threat. Time is something we don't have. Time is something that's running out. But right now, in this moment, with the sun painting everything gold and the rest of the world feeling very far away, it feels like we might have just enough.
Chris's stomach growls, loud and sudden in the quiet room, and I can't help the small laugh that escapes me. It's such a human sound, so at odds with the intensity of everything else.
He looks almost embarrassed, which is somehow endearing on someone so dangerous. "When's the last time you ate?" he asks, deflecting.
"I don't know. Early this morning?" I realize I'm not actually sure. Time has become strange and slippery since he came to my room…since he stole me away to this place. "You?"
"Longer." He stands abruptly, like he needs to put distance between us before he does something he can't take back. But his hand finds mine, pulling me up with him. "Come on. We should eat something."
It's an excuse to leave this room, to break the spell that's been cast over us. But it's also practical, necessary. And maybe it's safer to be around other people right now, to have witnesses to the fact that we're not tearing each other apart.
He doesn't let go of my hand as we move toward the door.
The kitchen is brighter than I expect, all white marble and stainless steel catching the morning sun. It smells like coffee and something sweet—maybe cinnamon? When we walk in, I freeze. Changbin, Seungmin, and Felix are already there, sitting around the island with plates of food and mugs of coffee. The conversation dies instantly.
The silence is suffocating. Heavy. I can feel their eyes on me...assessing, judging, remembering everything I've done. Changbin's expression is carefully neutral. Seungmin looks away, focusing intently on his coffee. And Felix... Felix is watching me with kind eyes.
Chris's hand finds the small of my back, a subtle gesture of protection that doesn't go unnoticed. "Sit," he says quietly, guiding me toward a stool at the island.
I sit because I don't know what else to do. Because my legs feel weak and my heart is pounding too hard and I'm acutely aware that I'm surrounded by men who have every reason to want me dead.
Chris moves to the counter, pulling out bread and deli meat with practiced efficiency. The domesticity of it is jarring. Christopher Bahng, crime lord and killer, making me a sandwich in his kitchen while his crew watches in uncomfortable silence.
"So," Felix says suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Sleep well?"
I look up sharply, expecting cruelty or sarcasm. But his expression is... kind. Almost teasing. Like he's talking to the girl he met five years ago at that bar, not the traitor who destroyed everything.
"I—" My voice catches. "Yeah. I did."
Felix grins, that familiar boyish smile that used to make me smile right back. "Good. You look less like a ghost today. More like an actual person."
Changbin snorts softly into his coffee, and I see the corner of Seungmin's mouth twitch. The tension doesn't disappear, but it... shifts. Becomes something slightly more bearable.
"Felix," Chris warns, but there's no real heat in it.
"What? I'm being nice." Felix takes a bite of toast, still grinning. "Remember nice, Chris? That thing you used to be before you became a brooding asshole?"
"Fuck off," Chris mutters, but I catch the ghost of a smile on his face as he sets a plate in front of me. Turkey and cheese on wheat, cut diagonally. Exactly how I used to like it.
My smile widens at the fact that he didn’t forget. "Thank you." I said softly.
He nods, his hand lingering on my shoulder for just a second too long before he moves to make his own sandwich. I take a bite, and it tastes like something close to normal. Like maybe, there's a version of this where I'm not just a prisoner, a tool, or a ghost haunting their lives.
Changbin clears his throat. "You know anything about the new security system Ruiz installed at the estate?"
It's a test, I know it is. But it's also an olive branch, an acknowledgment that I could maybe become one of them, that I might be more than just the girl who betrayed them.
"He upgraded to biometric scanners last year," I say carefully. "Fingerprint and retinal. But he kept the old keypad system as a backup. He doesn't trust technology completely."
Seungmin looks up, interest flickering in his eyes. "Backup codes?"
"Changed weekly. But he uses a pattern. Birth dates, anniversaries. He's sentimental in the worst ways."
They exchange glances, and I can see the gears turning. They're warming up to me, slowly, cautiously. But it's happening and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me excited.
Chris sits beside me, close enough that our thighs were touching; the guys instantly noticed. I see Felix's knowing smirk, Changbin's subtle nod, Seungmin's quick glance between us. They're seeing something different in Chris—something softer, more human. And they're not saying anything, but the silence speaks volumes.
We eat in a silence that's no longer quite so suffocating. For the first time since I was taken, I feel something that might almost be hope.
After breakfast, Chris takes my hand, fingers lacing through mine like it's the most natural thing in the world...and leads me outside for privacy from the many prying eyes lurking about the house. The beach stretches out before us, endless and grey under the overcast sky. The wind is cold, biting, but I don't care. I'm outside, I'm walking freely, with Chris beside me, not behind me, or in front, not guarding me either, just... with me.
We walk in silence for a while, our footsteps sinking in the sand. The waves crash rhythmically, filling the space between us with white noise that somehow makes it easier to think..to breathe.
"I'm sorry," I say finally, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me. "For everything. For what I did. For—"
"Don't." His voice is rough. "Not right now."
"But I need you to know—" I begin but he cuts me off.
"I know." He stops walking, turning to face me. The wind whips his hair across his forehead, his eyes are dark and intense and full. "I know you were trapped. I know he used you. I know you didn't have a choice. I remember everything you told me. You don’t have to repeat it."
"I did have a choice," I whisper. "I could have told you. I could have—", the words died in my throat as I looked away.
"And he would have killed you." Chris's jaw clenches as his dark eyes lift to look into mine. The light peaking through random breaks in the clouds makes them look almost chocolate brown. "Or worse. I know how your father operates, Y/n. I know what he's capable of."
The way he says it, with such certainty, such understanding, breaks something inside me. Tears burn my eyes, and I refuse to look at him, turning my entire body away from him to focus on the grey horizon.
"I loved you," I say, my voice barely audible over the wind. "I still—" I can't finish. Can't say it out loud because it feels too dangerous, too raw.
But Chris hears it anyway. I feel him walk up behind me, tugging me back to face him again. His hand comes up to cup my face, forcing me to look at him. "I know," he says again, and this time there's something almost like forgiveness in his voice. "I know."
We stand there, the wind howling around us, the ocean raging behind us, and for the first time in five years, I let myself believe that maybe we can survive this.
"What happens now?" I ask, wanting to know what we are doing with us…or is this it?
Chris's thumb traces my cheekbone, I see the conflict, the pain, the love hiding in the depths of his eyes. That same constant war waging in his mind. I can tell it was wearing him down. "I don't know," he admits. "But we'll figure it out."
After a moment we kept walking, then gradually, we began to talk. About the past, about the things we lost, about the people we've become. The fear, regret, and the impossible weight of loving someone you're supposed to hate. It's not easy. Some of it hurts so much I can barely breathe.
As we walked I could see this quiet vulnerability in the depths of his eyes whenever I looked over at him. Whatever was running through his mind was making his body tense again, that easiness was gone. “What’s going on in that mind mind of yours?” I asked softly, my fingers moving to lace through his. Chris didn't answer right away so I pressed on, “You forget..we still know one another really well. I can see it—that thing eating you alive. I can see it.”
Chris’s voice drops like he’s scared the ocean might overhear. “I’m… I’m trying not to show it,” he admits, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the grey water like it’s the only thing keeping him steady. “But inside I’m losing my mind, Y/n. With you—” he swallows, and the sound is rough, almost embarrassed by how much he feels. “I want you safe, I want you mine, and I hate that those two things don’t always look the same. And with the guys… I keep waiting for the moment they decide I’ve finally gone too far. Like they’ll look at me and see I’m choosing you and they’ll walk. Even after everything I’ve done for them, even after everything we’ve bled through together.”
He finally turns to me then, and there’s something raw in his face, like the truth is scraping him open. “But I realized something today,” he says, voice breaking just a little. “Even if they did leave… it still wouldn’t be enough to make me give you up. I can’t. I won’t.” My throat tightens, and I step closer until my shoulder brushes his arm, grounding him.
“They’re not leaving you,” I tell him, steady as I can be, because I can feel how hard he’s shaking under his skin. “They love you too much to do that—even Hyunjin. They might be pissed, yeah, they might say shit they don’t mean, but they’re not going to abandon the one person who dragged them out of the mud when nobody else would. You’ve all survived too much together for them to turn their backs on you now.”
This seemed to settle the chaos under his skin just a little, but I could still see it in his eyes. We kept talking as we circle back toward the house. By then something had shifted between us. Something fundamental and irreversible. We're not the same people we were five years ago. But just maybe we can be something new.
Not wanting to go back to my cage of a room end up in the gym with Chris. He mentions needing to grab something, and I follow him without thinking. The space is all dark wood and mirrors, weights and punching bags and mats covering the floor. It smells like sweat, leather, and something distinctly masculine.
But then I notice it—a literal armory on the other side of the gym. A gun case full of black weapons. A wall full of sharp, glinting knives, and a few other things that look dangerous but I have no clue what they are.
My feet move before my brain catches up. One step, then another, drawn toward the weapons like a moth to flame. The curiosity is almost magnetic, pulling me across the gym floor. My footsteps echo softly against the mats, and I'm very aware of Chris's presence somewhere behind me. I can feel his attention shift, tracking my movement.
The gun case is cold under my fingertips when I reach it. The glass is smooth and pristine. Through it, I can see the weapons arranged with military precision. Black metal, sleek, deadly, and something about it was a bit sexy to me. I've never held a gun before. Never really wanted to, but standing here, looking at them, something stirs in my chest. Power. Control. The ability to protect myself instead of always being protected…or imprisoned.
I move along the wall of knives next, my eyes tracing the different blades. Some are small and delicate, others are massive and brutal. I reach out, my hand hovering over one of the larger ones, imagining the weight of it in my palm. The balance. The potential.
Behind me, I hear Chris moving, gathering his things from the gym. His presence is palpable even from across the room, and I can feel his gaze tracking my every movement. He's watching me intently, cataloging my interest in the weapons with that sharp, analytical focus that never quite turns off. I can feel it, his gaze burning against my back.
I turn slowly, and our eyes meet across the gym. The air between us crackles with something electric. His expression is unreadable, but there's a question in his eyes. A challenge, maybe. Or a warning.
"You know," I say, trying to sound casual as I step away from the weapons, "you could teach me."
He pauses mid-movement. "Teach you what?"
"To fight." I step closer, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "You said I could learn to defend myself. Might as well start now."
Amusement flickers across his face, before he lets out a soft chuckle. That little laugh he use to do indicating he thought I was joking. "You want to learn to fight?"
"I want to be ready." I meet his eyes, and the playfulness fades into something more serious. "For when I go back."
The temperature in the room drops. Chris turns fully to face me, the bright smile on his face fading almost instantly. "You're not going back."
"Yes, I am." I cross my arms, feeling my spine straighten with defiance. "I need to help take him down, Chris. Not just for you. For me. For everything he's done—"
"No." His voice is flat, absolute. "You're not going anywhere near him."
"You don't get to decide that. Not anymore." Anger flares hot in my chest. "This is my fight too. He's my father. He used me, manipulated me, destroyed everything I—"
"And you think I'm going to let you walk back into that?" Chris takes a step toward me, his eyes blazing. "You think I'm going to send you back to him so he can use you again? So he can hurt you?"
"I'm not asking for your permission!" My voice rises, echoing off the walls. "I'm telling you. I'm going back. I'm going to help you destroy him, and you can't stop me."
"The fuck I can't." He's in front of me now, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. Chris’s face is growing red with annoyance. "You're not going back, Y/n. You forget I run things around here. Just because you’re by my side now doesn't change that. End of discussion."
"This isn't your decision to make!" I shove at his chest, and it's like pushing against a wall. "You don't own me, Chris. As much as you’d like to, you don—"
"I'm trying to protect you!" His voice raises louder than I’ve ever heard it before. It cracks, raw with a desperation he has kept to himself. "Don't you understand that? I can't lose you again. I can't send you back there knowing what he'll do if he finds out you've been helping us."
"Then don't send me back as a spy." I'm breathing hard now, my heart pounding. "Send me back as a weapon. Teach me to fight. Teach me to be dangerous. Let me be part of this instead of just a tool you use and discard."
"You're not a tool." Chris looks at me, his dark eyes turning soft at those words.
"Then stop treating me like one!" The words explode out of me, years of frustration, pain, and helplessness pouring out all at once. "Stop deciding what's best for me without asking what I want. I want to take him down, Chris. I want to make him pay for everything he's done. To you. To us. To me."
Chris stares at me, his chest heaving, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. I can see the war raging behind his eyes, the need to protect me battling against the understanding that I'm right. That this is my fight too.
"You don't know what you're asking," he says, his voice low and dangerous.
"Yes, I do. I want to be your equal, the queen next to you" I step closer, closing the distance between us until we're almost touching. "I know exactly what I'm asking. And I'm not afraid.”
"You should be." His hand comes up, fingers wrapping around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, possessive and threatening and intimate all at once. "You should be fucking terrified."
I look up at him, "I want to be your equal, not the little girl standing behind you."
Something snaps. I see it in his eyes, the moment his control breaks, the moment the anger and fear and desperate need collide into something explosive. Chris pulls me or him by my throat and his mouth crashes against mine, brutal and claiming, and I kiss him back just as fiercely. My hands fist in his hair, pulling hard, and he groans against my lips.
He walks me backward until my back hits the wall, the impact stealing my breath. His hands are everywhere, gripping my hips, sliding under my shirt, rough and demanding. I arch into him, needing more, needing everything.
"You're so fucking stubborn," he growls against my neck, his teeth scraping over my pulse point.
"And you're so fucking controlling," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and wild. "Tell me to stop."
"Never." I say it back breathlessly.
His hands move to my pants, yanking at the waist band with rough urgency. I do the same to his, our movements frantic and desperate. We don't bother fully undressing, there's no time, no patience. He shoves my sweatpants and underwear down just enough, and I kick them off one leg, my hands already working his zipper.
When he lifts me, my legs wrap around his waist instinctively. The wall is cold against my back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressed against mine. He positions himself right where he needs to be, and then he's pushing inside me, slow and deep and devastating.
I gasp loudly, my head falling back against the wall, my mouth open. He's so deep like this, filling me completely, stretching me in a way that's almost too much. His forehead drops to my shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.
"Fuck," he breathes. "You feel so god damn good, Y/n"
He doesn't finish. Just starts to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, hard and deliberate. The angle is perfect, hitting something inside me that makes my vision blur. I tighten my legs around him, pulling him deeper, and he groans.
"Chris—" His name is a curse on my lips. Something dirty I would only say in the dark, beneath my sheets.
His mouth finds mine again, swallowing my moans as he sets a rhythm that's both agonizingly slow and brutally intense. Each thrust is deep, purposeful, claiming. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me in place as he fucks me against the wall.
I can feel everything…the stretch and burn of him inside me, the rough fabric of his pants against my inner thighs, the cool wall at my back, the heat of his breath on my neck. The sounds we're making fill the room, skin against skin, harsh breathing, broken moans and whispered curses.
"You drive me fucking insane," he growls against my ear, his hips snapping forward harder. "You know that?"
"Good," I gasp, my nails raking down his back. "You deserve it."
He laughs…actually laughs…dark and breathless, and the sound sends shivers down my spine. His lips trail down my neck, teeth grazing over my collarbone, tongue soothing the sting. Every touch is possessive, claiming, like he's trying to mark me as his in every way possible.
The tension coils tighter in my core, building with each deep thrust. I'm close and he knows it. He can feel it in the way I'm clenching around him, in the way my breathing has gone ragged and desperate.
"That's my good girl," he murmurs, his voice rough and strained. "Cum for me, baby.” I clench my walls as tight as I can around him just to torture him a little. Chris lets out a deep moan that echo’s off the empty walls of the gym, “Fucking hell."
His hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit. His callused fingers begin to rub smooth circles over my most sensitive area. “I love how wet you are for me. Only me.” and that's all it takes. I shatter, crying out his name as the orgasm crashes through me in waves. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, just keeps fucking me through it, prolonging the pleasure until I'm trembling and gasping.
"Chris, please..” I whimper against his swollen lips.
"Be my good girl,” His voice is commanding, absolute. "Give me another one."
And impossibly, I do. The second orgasm hits even harder, stealing my breath, making my vision go white. I feel him tense, his rhythm faltering, and then he's coming too, burying himself deep as he groans my name against my neck and then the words I never thought I would hear him say slips out of his mouth, "I love you."
I can barely hear it, but it's there…
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, trembling, holding onto each other like we're afraid to let go. Slowly, he lowers me back to the ground, but his hands stay on my waist, steadying me. My legs are shaky, barely able to support my weight.
Chris's forehead rests against mine, his eyes closed, his breathing still uneven. One hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
"You're killing me," he whispers, and there's so much in those three words. Frustration, affection, fear and resignation all tangled together.
I look up at him, my own breathing still ragged, and I see the conflict written all over his face. The war between wanting to protect me and understanding that I need this. That I need to be part of taking down my father, not just for Chris, but for myself.
"I will be going back to help," I say quietly, firmly. "I don't care how, but I want to help take him down."
For a long moment, he just stares at me. I can see him fighting it, see him wanting to argue, to refuse, to lock me away somewhere safe where I can't get hurt. But he also sees the determination in my eyes. The resolve.
Finally, he nods.
It's barely a movement, just a slight dip of his chin, but it's enough. It's acknowledgment. It's him letting me have agency in my own life, even though it terrifies him.
He pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me, holding me against his chest like he's trying to absorb me into his skin. His lips press against my temple, and I feel him exhale shakily.
"You're killing me," he says again, softer this time. Almost broken.
I wrap my arms around him, holding him just as tightly. "I know."
And in that moment, pressed against each other in the aftermath of anger, passion, and desperate need, I understand something fundamental…this is what love looks like when it's been shattered and its being slowly pieced back together. It's messy, complicated,and painful. But it's real.
We're still tangled together against the wall, as we both try to catch our breath. The gym smells like sweat and sex. My sweatpants are somewhere on the floor to the side of us, my shirt pushed up over my breasts, Chris's hands still gripping my thighs like he can't quite let go yet.
His breathing is slower yet, still a bit ragged against my neck, warm puffs of air that make my skin tingle. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. We're suspended in this moment, this fragile bubble of intimacy that feels too raw, too exposed…
The gym door swings open.
"Hey, Chris, I was thinking we could—oh fuck—"
Jisung's voice cuts off abruptly, strangled and high-pitched. My entire body goes rigid. Chris's grip on me tightens reflexively, and I feel him tense, his muscles turning to stone beneath my hands.
Time seems to freeze. I can't see Jisung from this angle, Chris's body is blocking my view…but I can hear him. The sharp intake of breath. The shuffle of feet as he presumably stops dead in his tracks. The mortified silence that follows.
"Shit," Jisung stammers, his voice cracking. "I…fuck…I'm sorry, I didn't…I'll just…"
I hear him spin around so fast he probably gave himself whiplash, his footsteps stumbling toward the door. My face is absolutely burning with humiliation. I bury my face against Chris's shoulder, wishing I could disappear into the wall behind me.
Chris moves immediately, his protective instincts overriding everything else. He shifts his body to shield me completely from view, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head, pressing my face firmly against his neck. His other arm wraps around my waist as he moves carefully keeping himself between me and the door where Jisung disappeared behind.
My legs are shaking as I immediately drop into a crouch, frantically reaching for my sweatpants. My hands are trembling as I grab them from where they're crumpled near the weight bench. I can hear Jisung in the hallway, hopefully still facing away, and the sound of him clearing his throat awkwardly makes me want to die.
I yank my sweatpants on as quickly as possible, nearly falling over in my haste. Chris is adjusting himself, zipping his pants back up, tucking his shirt back in, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His jaw is clenched tight, but I catch the faintest flicker of embarrassment, though he'd never admit it.
When I'm finally decent, Chris takes my hand, his grip firm and possessive. We move toward the door together, and I keep my eyes fixed on the floor, unable to look at Jisung even though I can see him in my peripheral vision as we draw near.
We begin to pass by but Chris stops. Jisung is standing there, his back still turned, his shoulders hunched up around his ears. His neck is flushed bright red, the color creeping up to his ears. He's staring intently at the wall like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.
Chris doesn't let go of my hand. Instead, he turns to face Jisung fully, and I feel the shift in his energy, from protective to predatory in an instant.
Jisung must sense it too, because he immediately blurts out, "I saw nothing." He clears his throat again, the sound strangled and uncomfortable. His eyes dart to the side, to the ceiling, to literally anywhere that isn't us. "Absolutely nothing. I wasn't even here. I don't even know what a gym is."
The corner of Chris's mouth twitches…not quite a smile, but close. His voice, when he speaks, is dark and smooth, laced with threat but somehow edged with dry humor. "Good." He pauses, letting the word hang in the air. "I would hate to have to gouge your eyes out."
Jisung's eyes widen, and he nods frantically, still refusing to look at us. "Yep. Understood. Crystal clear. Eyes? What eyes? I'm basically blind."
Chris tugs me forward, and we start walking down the hallway. I can feel Jisung's mortification radiating behind us like a physical force. As we turn the corner, I glance back just once and see him still standing there, one hand covering his face, his entire body rigid with embarrassment.
Despite everything…despite the humiliation still burning in my cheeks…I feel the tiniest smile tug at my lips.
Chris catches it and squeezes my hand. "Not a word," he mutters, but there's no real heat in it.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I whisper back.
Behind us, I hear Jisung finally move, his footsteps retreating rapidly in the opposite direction, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Copyright: do not copy, translate, repost, or edit my work in any way. If you do, I will publicly call out the violation and pursue legal action, including a DMCA takedown and cease and desist letter.
Please keep in mind that…
All pictures used belong to their rightful owners (e.g., Pinterest and RealStrayKids).
I do not condone any inappropriate attractions, actions, or thoughts towards Stray Kids in real life. This is purely fiction and is not true.
Anything written about these men is entirely fictional. It does not reflect how they act, react, or talk in real life, nor is it meant to portray them that way. Nothing written here suggests they do, say, or act these ways.
Any necessary warnings will be labeled accordingly. If anything is missed, please let me know.
⤷ part of the weight of love: eight ways to STAY series
you spend years loving them both in the quiet ways that matter most, never asking for more than the small place you’ve been given in their lives. but when the lines between caretaker, family, and something far more tender begin to blur, chan is forced to face the love growing where he thought only grief could live. caught between loyalty to the woman he lost and the future waiting softly at his door, he has to decide whether letting you in means letting her go.
pairing single dad!chan x babysitter!reader
genre employer/employee to lovers, slow burn, angst
rating mature, 18+
word count 14k
warnings character death (past) ; themes of grieving ; slight age gap ; brief scene of child in distress ; graphic & detailed smut ; oral (m receiving) ; p in v sex
𓄲 get your tissues hunnies, it's gonna be a very bump ride. started this fic and another one on the list a while ago. and then that freaking skz code came out that made me and @joyracha go crazy in the dms and decided to build a series around them. and now here we are! as always, i went rogue and wrote way more than i planned, but hopefully you enjoy! please, if you do like this fic and want to see more, show your love by not only liking, but reblogging and commenting! us creators really do get encouragement by seeing your engagement <3
m a s t e r l i s t .ᐟ i n b o x .ᐟ
There are some people who enter your life like weather, all at once and impossible to ignore, and then there are people who become part of its structure so gradually that, one day, you look around and realize years have gone by.
Chan and Haneul are the second kind.
By the time you are twenty-three, halfway through a degree in childhood development and balancing lectures, readings, and practicum hours with more care than sleep, three years of your life have already been folded quietly into theirs. Not in a way that announces itself. Not in a way that invites questions. More in the way a favorite blanket grows softer with use.
You meet Haneul when she is two years old and too young to understand why the world around her has changed, only that it has. A terrible car accident takes her mother in a single, brutal instant, leaving behind a silence too large for a small child to name and too cruel for a man like Chan to fight with anything but endurance.
In the months that follow, his grief becomes something private and disciplined, tucked neatly beneath pressed shirts, beneath tired eyes, beneath the careful steadiness of a father who no longer has the luxury of falling apart.
He does not stop moving because Haneul still needs breakfast in the morning. She still needs her hair brushed, her shoes found, her tiny hands washed after snacks. She still needs lullabies and cartoons and someone to explain why the moon keeps following the car home. The world does not pause to honor sorrow when there is a toddler asking to be carried because her legs are tired.
That is where you come in.
At first, you are only meant to be help. A recommendation passed between neighbors and family friends and someone’s older sister who swears you are responsible, sweet, good with children, the kind of girl who actually gets down to eye level when a child talks instead of nodding absentmindedly while looking at her phone.
You arrive for the first time with your tote bag slung over one shoulder, your hair hurriedly fixed after class, and a nervousness you try to hide beneath a gentle smile. You expect a child made wary by loss, maybe even difficult in the way grieving children are often allowed to become by adults too afraid to say no to them.
Instead, you find a little girl with enormous eyes and a quietness that doesn’t belong on someone so young, sitting on the living room rug with a plush rabbit in her lap.
And you find Chan.
He opens the door looking older than twenty-five should allow, dressed in a black T-shirt and gray sweatpants, one hand braced against the frame as if he has not sat down all day. His face is handsome in a way that catches you off guard even then, but it is not beauty that lingers with you afterward. It is the exhaustion. The terrible, polished kind. The sort worn by people who have convinced everyone around them that they are managing because the alternative would frighten them.
You remember how carefully he speaks to you that first day, like he is afraid of coming across rude when really he is simply stretched too thin to decorate his words.
“Thank you for coming,” he says, voice rough from disuse or fatigue. “I know this is last minute.”
You tell him it is no problem, and you mean it.
In the beginning, Haneul watches you more than she talks. She is slow to trust in the quiet, wounded way of children who have learned that permanence is not guaranteed, and so you do not rush her. You sit on the floor. You let her bring you toys instead of asking for them. You read books in different voices until she starts to smile at the funny parts. You memorize the exact way she likes her apple slices cut, the songs that make her sleepy, the order of the bedtime routine that keeps tears from gathering in her lashes. Bath, pajamas, two stories, one song, the rabbit tucked beneath her arm, the hallway light left on just enough for the room not to feel endless.
You are studying childhood development, yes, but some things cannot be taught in lecture halls. Some things live in instinct. In patience. In the willingness to hold steady when a child tests whether you really mean it when you say you’ll still be there after they wake up from their nap.
Haneul tests you in all the ways that matter. You pass without ever making it seem like a test at all. And Chan notices.
Not all at once. He is too tired in those first months to do much beyond survive them, but even survival has its moments of clarity. He notices that Haneul cries less on the days you come over. He notices that she starts sleeping through the night more often after you begin watching her regularly. He notices that when she falls and scrapes her knee, she lets you clean it without fuss because your hands are gentle and certain and never tremble, even when hers do.
Most of all, he notices that you never treat his daughter like a fragile thing to be pitied. You speak to her like someone whole. And that alone feels like a miracle.
So what begins as occasional babysitting becomes something far more rooted. Your schedule bends around theirs. Tuesdays and Thursdays after class. Friday evenings when Chan works late or simply needs an hour to breathe without feeling guilty for it. Entire Saturdays sometimes, when errands pile up or Haneul grows clingy and insists on asking every hour when you’re coming.
You become a fixture of the apartment so gradually it almost escapes notice. Your sneakers by the door. Your cardigan draped over the dining chair. Your handwriting on sticky notes by the fridge reminding Chan that Haneul ate all her strawberries already and will definitely ask for more.
The apartment changes too. Not because grief leaves it, but because your presence teaches it how to hold something besides grief.
It is never a large place, but it is warm. The kind of warmth earned through living rather than design. Soft cream walls. Toys tucked into woven baskets that never fully contain them. Crayon drawings held up by magnets on the refrigerator. Storybooks stacked sideways on the coffee table. A faint scent of detergent, baby shampoo long outgrown but not quite forgotten, and whatever Chan has managed to cook between work and fatherhood.
There is always evidence of him everywhere, though none of it showy. A jacket thrown over the couch. A half-finished mug of coffee gone cold on the counter. His laptop open beside a pile of Haneul’s coloring pages because his life is a constant negotiation between responsibility and interruption.
He is the sort of father who carries everything without announcing the weight of it. The sort who wakes at the slightest sound from down the hall, who knows the difference between Haneul’s sleepy whine and her truly upset cry, who kneels beside her bed in the middle of the night with one hand smoothing over her hair while the other checks the temperature on her forehead. He remembers pediatrician appointments without reminders. Keeps extra wipes in the car, crackers in the pantry, Band-Aids in three different drawers. He moves through fatherhood with a quiet competence that would look effortless if you did not know better.
But you do know better.
You see the tiredness under his eyes when he lingers in the kitchen after you arrive, finishing the coffee he forgot to drink hot. You notice the way he thanks you every single time, never once acting entitled to your care even after years of it. You know how often he apologizes for being late, for the toys on the floor, for Haneul being fussy, as if you haven’t already seen him manage work calls while tying the laces on sparkly shoes and cutting sandwiches into stars because she once decided squares were too boring to eat.
There is a devotion in him that feels almost sacred. It lives in the smallest things. In the way he crouches to zip Haneul’s jacket all the way to her chin before stepping outside. In the way he always, always looks back if she calls for him, no matter how busy he is. In the way his voice changes around her, softening at the edges until it becomes something rich and tender enough to wrap around a child like a blanket.
You fall in love with him slowly enough to pretend for a while that you are not falling at all.
Maybe it starts with admiration. Maybe with the first time you see him asleep on the couch after a long day, Haneul sprawled across his chest, one of his arms curved around her even unconscious, as if his body itself knows to protect what he loves. Maybe it starts the night Haneul has a fever and Chan comes home early, tie pulled loose, panic tucked beneath composure, and the relief in his face at finding you there with her makes your chest ache in a way that follows you for days.
Maybe it starts a hundred different times, in a hundred small, impossible moments, until one day you realize your affection has become something far deeper and infinitely more dangerous. You never say a word because know your place.
You are the babysitter. The trusted one, yes. The beloved one, maybe. The one Haneul runs to with drawings clutched in her hand and secrets already spilling from her mouth. The one Chan relies on more than he probably means to. But still, the babysitter. Younger than him by five years, still in college, still building a life of your own. Whatever tenderness threatens to gather in the quiet between you is neatly folded away before it can become visible.
You are not careless with his grief. That, more than anything, keeps you still.
Because even three years later, his wife is not a shadow in this home. She is a presence. A photograph in Haneul’s room. A framed wedding picture tucked onto a bookshelf in the living room. A name spoken gently when Haneul asks questions in that childlike way that manages to be both innocent and piercing. Sometimes, when Haneul is already asleep and the apartment has settled into evening, Chan will look at that photograph for half a second too long before thanking you for staying late.
You never mention it. You never need to.
Loyalty clings to him with the same quiet persistence as grief. Not performative, not self-pitying—simply true. He loved her. He loves her still, in the strange enduring way people love the dead, where memory becomes both comfort and punishment. There are parts of him that remain turned toward that loss even while the rest of him keeps moving forward for Haneul’s sake.
You understand this. You respect it. You build your distance around it brick by careful brick.
And yet time has a way of softening edges no one meant to touch.
Haneul is five now, all bright chatter and quick feet and opinions about everything from cereal shapes to which stuffed animals deserve spots on her bed. She has grown out of her toddler roundness into the delicate, lovely little girl she was always going to become, and somehow, without anyone formally deciding it, you have become woven into the rhythm of her life. You know the names of her classmates, the songs from her favorite cartoons, the exact color she calls “princess pink,” though it looks suspiciously like regular pink to everybody else. She asks for you with the unquestioning certainty children reserve for the people they believe belong to them.
And that is where things begin to shift.
Not because you change.
You are still kind in all the same ways, still patient, still thoughtful, still loving with a steadiness that makes Haneul bloom toward you like something reaching for sunlight. You still arrive with little snacks tucked into your bag and kneel to fasten tiny sandals and sit through tea parties where the tea is invisible and apparently scalding. You still love Chan from a distance so disciplined it sometimes feels like another form of prayer.
No, what changes is harder to control because it is not yours alone.
Haneul starts to look at you with something deeper than affection.
Children do not always have the language for the shapes their hearts make, but they feel those shapes with startling clarity. The comfort of you. The safety. The constancy. The way your hands smooth back her hair when she is upset, the way your voice lowers instinctively when she needs soothing, the way you remember every small thing that matters to her.
The resemblance is not in your face or your voice or your mannerisms. It is in the role your love begins to occupy.
Chan notices it before he lets himself name it.
He notices Haneul reaching for you first after scraping her palm on the playground, even with him standing right there. Notices the easy way she leans into your side during movie nights. Notices the childish, unquestioning possessiveness with which she says your name, as though you have always belonged inside the borders of her world. At first, he tells himself it means only that she trusts you, that your presence has become important to her in the natural way caretakers become important to children.
Then one evening, standing in the kitchen while you help Haneul wash paint from her fingers, he looks up and sees the scene in the darkened reflection of the window above the sink.
You with your sleeves rolled to your elbows, smiling softly as Haneul chatters about the family of lopsided paper butterflies she made that afternoon. Haneul looking up at you with that unguarded little face, all trust and attachment and love. The domestic intimacy of it striking the room so cleanly that it takes the air with it.
Something in his expression changes before he can stop it. Because for the first time, the thought does not arrive as a blur. It arrives whole.
Haneul does not just adore you. She is beginning, in the tender unconscious way of children, to love you in a place shaped suspiciously close to where a mother belongs.
And Chan, who has spent three years carrying grief in one hand and fatherhood in the other, finds himself standing at the edge of a truth he does not know how to survive.
Not only because of what Haneul feels. But because when he looks at you now, his gaze lingers.
On your smile. On your patience. On the quiet grace with which you move through his home as if care is your native language. On the life you have breathed into corners of this apartment he thought would stay dim forever.
And worse than that, more frightening than that, is the part he cannot confess to anyone.
His thoughts linger too.
Not in a reckless way. Never that. Chan is not careless, least of all with you. But desire is not always something dramatic or easily shamed. Sometimes it comes dressed as tenderness that lasts a second too long. As awareness. As the dangerous warmth of noticing your beauty when you tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear while listening to Haneul explain a dream in serious detail. As the temptation to stay in the doorway just to hear you laugh again. As the ache of imagining, only for a moment, what it would mean to let himself want something more.
And every single time, loyalty drags him back. Loyalty to the woman he lost. To the life he thought he would still have. To the version of himself who believes moving on must feel like betrayal if it is ever going to count as real.
So he says nothing. You say nothing. And the three of you continue like that, poised on the fragile edge of something unnamed, each day carrying you a little closer to the point where silence will no longer be enough.
That is how you get here.
Three years after a tragedy that rearranged everything. Three years after you first stepped into Chan’s apartment expecting to offer temporary help and somehow became part of the architecture of his life. Three years of bedtime stories and shared routines and feelings tucked away so carefully they have started to sharpen with the pressure of being held.
Now Haneul is five years old, clever and affectionate and much too perceptive for her own good. You are older too, steadier in yourself, though no less cautious. Chan is twenty-eight and still trying to carry everything alone, still devoted, still gentle, still breaking in places no one sees.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, love has begun to gather.
Not the easy kind. The kind that arrives with history. With grief. With guilt and longing and the unbearable hope of being chosen anyway.
The front door unlocks with the familiar click that always seems to travel through the apartment a beat before Chan does, and the moment it does, Haneul’s entire body lights up.
She has been coloring on the living room floor for the last twenty minutes, tongue peeking out in concentration as she presses a purple crayon too hard against the paper, but at the sound of the door, she gasps like something wonderful and long-awaited has finally arrived. Her crayon rolls away forgotten as she scrambles to her feet.
“Daddy!”
Her voice rings through the apartment bright as bells, and then she is gone in a blur of little socks and wild hair, racing across the hardwood with all the unrestrained devotion of a child who has been waiting to see her favorite person all day.
You do not have to look to know what comes next.
Chan barely gets the door shut behind him before Haneul crashes into his legs, her arms wrapping around him with enough force to make him laugh softly under his breath. It is the kind of laugh you have learned to listen for over the years, quieter when he is tired, roughened around the edges after a long day, but always there for her. Always immediate.
“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, his voice worn down by hours of work and city traffic and whatever else the day has managed to drag over him, but turning warm the second he bends down to scoop her up. “Miss me that much?”
“Yes,” Haneul says with the seriousness of someone stating a fact beyond debate, her arms looping around his neck as he lifts her against his chest. “A lot.”
You can picture it without stepping away from the stove. The way his shoulders finally loosen once he has her in his arms. The way his cheek brushes the side of her head. The way exhaustion never disappears from him all at once, but shifts, settles, becomes something gentler the moment she is close enough to hold.
From the kitchen, you stir the sauce one last time and lower the heat, letting the apartment fill with the warm, savory scent of garlic and soy and browned onions. The pan gives a soft, steady hiss under your hand, steam fogging briefly against your wrist before curling away. Rice waits fluffed in the pot beside it, and the vegetables you chopped earlier are soft now, glossy under the kitchen light. It is not anything extravagant, just dinner, just something simple and comforting after a day that has clearly asked too much of him already, but you know by now that sometimes the smallest things land with the most force.
Chan rounds the corner into the kitchen with Haneul still perched on his hip, and the second he sees you standing there in front of the stove, the look on his face shifts.
It is subtle, the kind of thing someone else might miss if they do not know him the way you do. His tie is gone, probably shoved into his work bag the moment he got into the car. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled to his forearms, slightly uneven, and there is a tiredness clinging to him that looks almost physical, something draped over his shoulders heavier than the leather strap of his briefcase.
His hair is a little mussed, his eyes faintly shadowed, and for a second he simply stands there taking in the sight of you in his kitchen, dinner nearly finished, his daughter tucked close against him, home smelling like something warm and lived-in instead of the sterile leftovers of takeout containers or the rushed effort of a meal made too late.
Then his mouth softens.
You know that look too.
It is never dramatic with Chan. Nothing with him ever is. But gratitude moves through him like low light across water, quiet and immediate and deeper than he usually lets anyone see.
“You’re cooking?” he asks, though the answer is obvious.
You smile over your shoulder at him, lifting the wooden spoon a little. “I am. Haneul told me she was starving and then listed six different things she wanted, so we compromised.”
Haneul, entirely unbothered by being exposed, presses her cheek into Chan’s shoulder and says, “I wanted spaghetti and dumplings and fish sticks and mac and cheese and strawberries.”
“And instead,” you say, amusement warming your voice, “she is getting chicken stir-fry, rice, and strawberries after dinner if she eats enough actual food first.”
Chan lets out a breath that almost passes for a laugh, though it still carries the roughness of exhaustion in it. “You’re a miracle, you know that?”
The words come out easy, automatic perhaps, but the way his eyes linger on you as he says them makes something inside you pull a little tighter.
You busy yourself with the pan, even though it does not need much attention anymore. “It’s not a miracle. It’s just dinner.”
“Still.” His voice lowers, quieter now, more sincere. “Thank you.”
When you glance back at him, really look at him, the gratitude sits plain on his face. It does something dangerous to your chest every time, the way he thanks you as though your care is never expected, never owed, always something precious enough to acknowledge. Even now, after years of stepping so naturally into the space his home seems to make for you, he never treats your presence like entitlement. He treats it like grace.
Haneul wriggles, suddenly impatient. “Can I set the table?”
“You can help,” you say.
That is enough to make her squirm out of Chan’s arms at once, her little feet landing hard against the floor before she darts toward the cabinet where the plates are stacked. Chan watches her go, the same way he always does, with that quiet attentiveness that never fully leaves him, and then he exhales slowly, one hand settling on the back of a dining chair as if he needs the pause.
Up close, the weariness on him is even clearer. Not just tired. Pulled thin.
“Long day?” you ask softly.
His mouth tips in something that is not quite a smile. “You could say that.”
He does not elaborate right away. He rarely does, at least not until the apartment has softened around him and Haneul is distracted enough that he can let a little more of the day show on his face. Instead, he loosens the top button of his shirt and steps closer to the stove, drawn in by the smell.
“That smells incredible,” he says. “Seriously.”
“It should be decent,” you reply. “We’ve been taste-testing.”
“We?” he echoes, glancing toward Haneul, who is now carrying forks to the table with great concentration, as though transporting priceless artifacts.
“We meaning me,” you say dryly, “while your daughter declared herself head chef and supervised.”
That earns you a fuller smile this time, brief but real. It changes him every time it happens, makes him look younger than grief and responsibility usually allow. Then his gaze drops to the skillet again, curiosity touching the edges of his expression.
“What is it exactly?”
“Soy-garlic chicken,” you tell him. “With vegetables. The sauce is a little sweet, so Haneul approved.”
“Of course she did.” He studies the pan a second longer, then looks at you. “Where did you learn how to make that?”
The question is casual. So are you when you answer.
“Oh.” You set the spoon down against the rest by the stove and reach for the bowls. “I went to a cooking class once for a first date, and they taught us a version of it.”
The silence that follows is not loud, but it is immediate.
It moves through the kitchen like something invisible suddenly slipping between the cabinets and counters, small but unmistakable. You only really register it when you turn, two bowls in your hands, and find Chan standing exactly where he was a second ago, except now there is something different in his face.
Not anger. Not even disapproval. Just a kind of stillness.
It takes you a moment to understand why.
His eyes rest on you with an unreadable weight, his expression gone carefully neutral in the way it does when he is keeping something behind his teeth. For the briefest second, he almost looks startled, as though the words first date have landed somewhere in him he was not prepared to expose.
You blink, suddenly aware of how oddly intimate the conversation has become for something so harmless.
“It wasn’t recent,” you add lightly, setting the bowls on the table. “It was a while ago.”
Chan nods once, but it is delayed enough that you notice.
“Right,” he says.
That single word is perfectly even. Too even.
You glance at him again, trying not to let your confusion show. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m not,” he says, which would be more convincing if he did not still look a little thrown.
A tiny smile starts tugging at your mouth despite yourself. “Chan.”
He drags a hand over the back of his neck, his gaze flicking briefly toward Haneul before returning to you. “You went to a cooking class for a first date?”
There it is. Not accusation, exactly. Just disbelief tinged with something you cannot quite place at first, something quieter and sharper than surprise.
You lean one hip against the counter, suddenly more aware of him than you should be, of the loosened collar of his shirt and the tired line of his shoulders and the way his attention has narrowed entirely onto you.
“Yes,” you say, a little amused now. “That is what I said.”
He lets out a soft breath through his nose, almost scoffing, though there is no edge to it. “That feels…” He pauses, like he is choosing a word he will not regret. “Specific.”
You laugh then, unable not to. “It was specific. The whole thing was supposed to be charming.”
“Was it?”
You tilt your head. “The class or the date?”
His eyes hold yours for a fraction too long. “The date.”
The answer should be easy. It should be nothing. A passing anecdote attached to a recipe and no more important than that. But Chan is looking at you in a way that makes the air feel thinner, and for a second you can feel the shape of something unspoken pressing against the edges of the room.
You look away first, reaching for the strawberries just to have something to do with your hands.
“It was fine,” you say. “Not especially memorable, apparently, since the chicken is what lasted.”
Chan hums quietly, though it does not sound like amusement. Something in his expression shifts again, gentling and darkening at once, a flicker so fast you almost miss it.
Jealousy is not a look you have ever thought to assign him. Not toward you. Not in relation to you. The very idea feels too impossible to touch directly, and yet there is something faintly unsettled in the way he stands there, in the careful blankness he is trying to hold over whatever instinctive reaction your answer has stirred.
He has no right to it. You know that. He knows that too. But apparently knowing does not stop it from existing.
The realization arrives slowly enough to be dangerous.
Chan’s gaze drops for a moment to your hands as you rinse the strawberries, then lifts again to your face, quieter now.
“I guess,” he says, voice low, “I never really think about you dating.”
There is no flirtation in the words. That would almost be easier to survive.
What there is instead is honesty, reluctant and unvarnished, as if the sentence slipped out before he could decide whether to keep it.
Your fingers still beneath the running water. You turn the faucet off carefully. “I date,” you say, aiming for casual and not entirely trusting yourself to hit it.
His jaw shifts almost imperceptibly. “Yeah,” he says. “I know.”
But he does not sound like he knew. He sounds like someone who has just remembered that you exist outside the borders of this apartment, outside bedtime stories and dinner prep and afternoons spent kneeling beside his daughter to help with tiny shoes and crayons. Like the image of you with someone else has caught him off guard in a way he does not understand well enough to conceal.
At the table, Haneul starts humming to herself while lining up napkins with painstaking precision, blissfully unaware of the strange, fragile thing gathering in the kitchen behind her.
You dry your hands on a dish towel and keep your tone deliberately light, though your pulse has begun doing something inconvenient under your skin.
“It was one date, Chan,” you say. “You look like I told you I ran away to join the circus.”
That gets the smallest laugh out of him, but it is brief, and when it fades, his gaze stays on you.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
The word lands heavier than it should.
You shake your head. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Maybe he does not. Maybe he does.
He glances down, fingers curling against the back of the chair beside him, his expression tightening in a way that tells you he is aware, at least in part, that he has stepped somewhere he should not have. That whatever flicker passed through him a moment ago does not belong to him. Not with you. Not like this.
When he looks back up, he has smoothed himself out again, though not completely.
“Just surprised me, I guess.”
You could leave it there. You should leave it there. Instead, because some reckless little thread in you wants to tug at the seam and see what gives, you ask softly, “Why?”
Chan’s eyes meet yours, and something in the room stills all over again.
For one suspended second, he looks like he might answer. Really answer. Not with something easy or polite, but with the truth or some dangerous piece of it.
Then Haneul spins around in her chair and announces, “I did the forks all by myself.”
The moment breaks cleanly, almost cruelly.
Chan looks away first, that gentle father-softness returning to his face as he turns toward her. “You did?” he says, moving to inspect the table. “That’s impressive.”
You stand there for a beat longer, dish towel still clutched in your hands, the ghost of that almost-confession hovering between your ribs like heat that has nowhere to go.
Then you follow, setting the bowl of strawberries aside for later and bringing dinner to the table.
Conversation slips back into safer things. Haneul chatters about a girl in her class who insists pink crayons work better than red ones. Chan listens, asks questions, and eats like someone who did not realize until the first bite just how hungry he was. More than once, you catch him looking at you when he thinks your attention is elsewhere, and each time he looks away a second too late, the awareness of it settling over you both like a secret too new to name.
Haneul’s bath time has long since developed its own little rituals, the kind children attach themselves to with fierce sincerity once they decide a routine belongs to them.
One of them is the singing.
It starts nearly a year ago, after a phase where she becomes convinced that closing the bathroom door means vanishing, and though she has long since outgrown the fear itself, the habit remains. Whenever she is in the tub and you are not standing directly beside it, she has to sing the entire time. Loudly, continuously, and with enough enthusiasm that neither you nor Chan ever have to wonder where she is or whether she has decided, in some burst of five-year-old ambition, to attempt something reckless with a wet foot and too much confidence.
Tonight, her voice floats down the short hallway in cheerful, slightly off-key waves, rising and falling over the splash of bathwater.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little starrrr,” she belts from the bathroom, only to abandon it halfway through and pivot into a cartoon song about a rabbit who loves carrots and friendship. The words are mostly wrong. The volume is not.
You smile to yourself as you pull her comforter smooth over the mattress, tucking the corners just the way she likes so she can burrow under them dramatically later and declare herself a sleepy princess. Her rabbit is placed at the top of the bed, facing outward. Her nightlight is plugged in. On the small dresser beside the lamp, the framed photo of her mother catches the soft yellow light and gives it back in a muted gleam.
The room is warm with familiar things. Lavender lotion. Clean pajamas laid out in a neat little pile. A picture book already waiting on the pillow. Haneul’s world always feels especially tender at night, as though the room itself settles into a gentler shape once the day begins to dim.
From the bathroom, her voice rises again.
“I’m a bunny, bunny, bunny in the baaath!”
You laugh under your breath. “Keep singing, baby.”
“I am!” she shouts back, indignant and sincere.
You are fluffing the second pillow when you feel, more than hear, someone stop in the doorway.
Chan does not announce himself right away. He only stands there for a second, one shoulder resting lightly against the frame, watching you move around Haneul’s room with easy familiarity. By now, you know the weight of his silence well enough to recognize when it means thought rather than exhaustion, and tonight there is something deliberate in it.
When you glance over, he has changed out of his work clothes into a soft black T-shirt and gray lounge pants, the lines of the day gentled but not erased. His hair is slightly damp at the temples from a shower, and there is a stillness about him that tells you he has been carrying something since dinner and has finally decided to bring it back out into the light.
Haneul’s singing bounces down the hall again, louder this time.
Chan’s mouth tilts faintly. “She’s really committing to it tonight.”
You smooth your palm over the blanket one last time. “She knows the rule.”
“She also knows how to turn it into a full concert.”
“That too.”
He steps into the room then, slow and unhurried, his gaze brushing over the bed, the pajamas, your hands lingering near the pillow. There is always something dangerous in moments like this, in the domestic ease of them. In how naturally you fit here. In how much less space there seems to be between you when the apartment is quiet and Haneul’s little voice is the only thing filling the air.
For a second, he says nothing. Then, as casually as if he were asking about the weather, he says, “So…that cooking class date.”
You turn your head toward him fully, already suspicious of the neutrality in his tone. “What about it?”
He lifts one shoulder, feigning lightness badly enough that it almost makes you smile. “Nothing. I was just thinking about it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes flick to the stuffed rabbit on the bed, then back to you. “Guess I’m still surprised.”
There is that word again. Surprised. It shouldn’t needle at you the way it does, but something about it has been sitting under your skin since dinner, unresolved and quietly aggravating.
“Surprised that I can cook?” you ask.
A breath of amusement touches his face. “That’s not what I meant.”
You fold your arms loosely, leaning one hip against Haneul’s dresser. “Then what did you mean?”
From down the hall comes a splash, then an enthusiastic, “Bunny bunny bath time queen!”
Chan exhales softly through his nose, but his attention never leaves you. “I told you,” he says. “I just don’t really think about you dating.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
The words leave your mouth lighter than they feel, sharpened by something you had not intended to show. Chan notices it immediately. You can tell by the way his expression changes, something in it tightening just enough to make the room feel smaller.
“It’s not a problem,” he says quietly.
“No?” You tip your head. “Because you’ve seemed pretty bothered by it for someone who claims it isn’t.”
His jaw shifts. “I’m not bothered.”
You give him a look.
From the bathroom, Haneul transitions into a drawn-out version of the alphabet song, half of the letters swallowed by the echo of tile.
Chan drags a hand over the back of his neck. “I said I was surprised. That’s all.”
“And I said I date.”
The silence that follows is thin and fragile, stretched tight between you.
Maybe if he had left it at dinner, if he had let the moment break and disappear under the noise of plates and Haneul’s chatter, this would still be manageable. But he is here now, bringing it up again in the quiet of her bedroom, after bathwater has started sloshing against enamel and the night has settled enough that every glance feels heavier than it should.
Your heart is beating too hard for something so small.
Chan’s voice lowers. “You know what I mean.”
“No,” you say, and now the frustration is there, unmistakable. “Actually, I don’t.”
His brow furrows, not in anger but in a kind of guarded discomfort, as if this has moved beyond the shape he hoped it would keep. “You’re upset.”
You laugh once, though there is no humor in it. “You’re the one asking follow-up questions about a date I went on forever ago.”
“I asked one question.”
“You brought it back up.”
His eyes flash with something that is not quite irritation and not quite embarrassment, but close enough to both that it catches heat against your own. “Because I was trying to understand why it got under my skin.”
The honesty of that startles you, but only for a second.
“Then maybe you should understand it on your own,” you say, your voice softening in volume and sharpening everywhere else. “Because you don’t get to act weird every time you remember I have a life outside this apartment.”
Chan straightens a little, his face going still in that careful way it does when he feels something too much and is trying not to let it show. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then what are you doing?”
He looks at you. And there it is again, that unbearable sense of something pressing at the edges of the room, something too big and too dangerous to stay unnamed much longer.
You are suddenly aware of everything. The soft lamp glow. Haneul’s distant singing, now wandering into nonsense lyrics about stars and strawberries and glitter. The framed photograph on the dresser beside your elbow. The fact that Chan is standing only a few feet away and somehow feels both impossibly close and nowhere you can safely reach.
When he speaks, his voice is quiet enough that it almost disappears into the room. “You know I can’t…”
He does not finish. But it’s enough.
All the restraint you have wrapped around yourself for years pulls tight at once, then frays.
“Can’t what?” you ask, and your own voice has changed now too, gone unsteady around the edges. “Be upset that I date? Want to know about my life? Feel anything?”
Chan’s expression flickers, pain and caution moving through it so quickly that you almost miss the distinction between them. “Don’t,” he says. It is not a warning. It is closer to a plea.
“No,” you say, because suddenly you cannot bear this version of him, this version of the two of you, where everything is measured and bitten back and left to rot in silence. “You don’t get to do that.”
His gaze fixes on you, unreadable except for the tension in it. “Do what?”
“This.” You gesture helplessly between you, frustration spilling out now that it has found a crack. “Acting like it bothers you when I date, acting like it means something, and then pretending it doesn’t. Pretending you don’t feel what I feel too.”
The words hang there.
For one terrible second, the room becomes perfectly still.
Even from the bathroom, Haneul’s singing seems farther away, thinner, as though the world itself has pulled back to listen.
Chan does not move. His face changes, but only slightly. A tiny falter. A break in the careful control he wears like armor.
You hear your own pulse in your ears.
The moment after a confession is always stranger than the confession itself. You expect release, maybe ruin, maybe relief. Instead there is only exposure, raw and immediate and impossible to take back.
Chan’s throat works once before he speaks. “You think I don’t know that?” he asks, and his voice is so low it nearly fractures under the weight of it. “You think I haven’t been fighting that every day?”
Your breath catches.
He takes half a step forward, not enough to close the distance, only enough to make it feel deliberate.
“You think I don’t see the way she looks at you? The way you take care of her, take care of us, like it’s the most natural thing in the world?” His eyes search your face, torn open now in a way that almost hurts to witness. “You think I haven’t noticed what this has become?”
Something hot stings behind your eyes before you can stop it. “Then why are you standing there acting like I’m the only one who has to live with it?”
Chan opens his mouth.
And then the apartment splits open with Haneul’s scream.
It is so sudden, so sharp and terrified, that both of you are moving before the sound has even finished leaving her throat.
“Haneul!”
Chan is out the door first, your feet nearly tripping over each other as you rush down the hall after him. The bathroom light is too bright when you burst inside. Haneul is half-sitting, half-sliding in the tub, water sloshed over the edge and onto the tile, her face crumpled in fear as she coughs and cries at once, tiny hands grasping blindly for something steady.
“I slipped,” she sobs. “I slipped, Daddy.”
Chan is on his knees beside the tub in an instant, all the tension from a moment ago gone, replaced by pure parental instinct. “I know, baby, I know. I’ve got you.” His voice is calm despite the fear flashing across his face as he reaches in and lifts her out, dripping and shaking, against his chest.
She is not hurt. You can see that almost immediately. Startled, frightened, maybe swallowed some water when she went under for a second, but not injured. Still, the panic in her is real, and that matters just as much.
Chan cradles her close, one large hand spread protectively over the back of her head while the other rubs slow circles between her shoulders. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, over and over, his voice warm and anchoring even while his own breathing is unsteady. “You’re okay. Daddy’s got you.”
Haneul coughs again, crying harder now, her wet hair plastered to her forehead and cheeks flushed pink from heat and fright. Chan adjusts her against him, trying to soothe her, trying to calm the trembling little body in his arms.
Then she lifts her face, tears clinging to her lashes, and reaches for you. “Mommy,” she cries.
Everything stops. Something inside the three of you, sudden and absolute.
Chan freezes. So do you.
Haneul’s small hand opens and closes toward you, her face crumpling harder as she reaches again through tears and panic, too scared to understand what she has just done, only knowing that she wants comfort and that your name, your shape, your love have tangled themselves in her frightened little heart until this is what comes out.
“Mommy,” she sobs again, desperate this time.
The word lands like a stone dropped into still water, the impact rippling outward too fast to outrun.
Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out at first.
Chan looks at you. It lasts barely a second, maybe less, but the weight of it is enough to make the room tilt. Shock, grief, tenderness, something rawer than both, all flickering through his face before he lowers his eyes.
You move then because Haneul needs you. Whatever this moment is, whatever it will become later, cannot matter more than the little girl crying in front of you now.
“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, stepping closer. Your hands shake only slightly as you take the towel from the rack and wrap it around her small body. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
Chan hesitates for the briefest second before letting you take her. Not because he is unwilling, but because the transfer itself feels loaded now in a way neither of you can bear to examine. Then Haneul is in your arms, warm and damp and trembling, clutching at your shoulders with frantic little fingers as you gather her close.
You hold her carefully, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other rubbing up and down her spine beneath the towel. “You’re all right,” you murmur into her wet hair. “You just got scared. That’s all. I’m here. Daddy’s here. You’re safe.”
Her sobs do not stop right away, but they begin to soften, breaking into smaller hitching breaths against your neck.
Chan stands. For a moment, he stays where he is, one hand braced against the edge of the sink, his head turned slightly away as though he cannot quite bear the sight in front of him and cannot stop looking at it either.
When he finally speaks, his voice is rough. “I need a minute.”
It is not directed at Haneul. Not really. It belongs somewhere between you and the tiled floor and the word still echoing in the steam-thick air.
He does not wait for an answer. He only drags a hand over his face and steps out, walking past the open door with the kind of rigid control that tells you he is holding himself together by force alone.
The bathroom feels too small after he leaves. Too warm. Too bright. Too full of things that can no longer be mistaken for simple. But Haneul is still in your arms, still trembling, still burying her face against your shoulder as if she can hide there from the fright of what just happened. So you hold her tighter.
You sway on instinct, gentle and slow, your own throat aching with everything you are not allowing yourself to feel yet.
“It’s okay,” you whisper again, pressing your cheek to the top of her damp head. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
Outside the bathroom, you can hear nothing from Chan at all.
And somehow, that silence is louder than anything.
You dry her carefully, gently, like she is something easily startled back into fear.
Chan does not come back.
You feel that absence like a second pulse under your skin, but you do not go looking for him. Not yet. Not when Haneul still needs your hands steady, your voice soft, your attention anchored fully in her.
“Let’s get you warm, okay?” you murmur, wrapping the towel tighter around her small body.
She nods against your shoulder, still sniffling, her lashes clumped together with tears.
You help her into her pajamas slowly, guiding her arms through the sleeves, smoothing the fabric down over her back, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head when she leans into you without thinking. By the time you carry her down the hall, her breathing has steadied, but her fingers remain curled into the front of your shirt.
You sit with her on the bed first instead of laying her down immediately, letting her settle in your lap while you rub slow circles between her shoulders. The nightlight casts a faint glow along the wall, catching the edges of her mother’s photograph and turning the glass into something almost luminous.
Haneul’s voice, when she finally speaks, is small. “I didn’t mean to slip.”
“I know you didn’t,” you say gently. “Sometimes that just happens.”
She sniffles again, then presses her cheek into your collarbone. “I was singing.”
“I heard you. You were doing a very good job.”
That gets the faintest hint of a smile, though it fades quickly, her thoughts clearly drifting somewhere heavier.
You can feel it before she says anything. The shift. The way children carry fear into questions without meaning to.
After a moment, she lifts her head just enough to look at you. “Why did I say that?”
Your heart stumbles. You know what she means. Of course you do.
You smooth a damp strand of hair away from her forehead, buying yourself a second to breathe through the sudden tightness in your chest.
“You were scared,” you say softly. “And sometimes when we’re scared, we just…reach for the people who make us feel safe.”
She watches you carefully, her eyes still glassy with leftover tears. “But I said mommy.”
The word lands differently now. Not sharp like before. Just quiet. Confused.
You swallow gently. “Haneul,” you begin, your voice as steady as you can make it, “your mommy is…she’s in heaven, remember?”
She nods a little, though her expression remains uncertain.
“She’s always looking down at you,” you continue, brushing your thumb lightly across her cheek. “And she loves you so, so much. That doesn’t go away just because she can’t be here the way we wish she could.”
Haneul listens, her brows knitting slightly as she tries to hold onto something too big for her to fully understand.
“And I love you too,” you add, quieter now. “Even if I’m not your mommy.”
Her fingers tighten briefly in your shirt again. “I know,” she says.
The words are simple. Certain. But then her mouth wobbles, and the question that follows breaks something open in a different way. “It’s not fair.”
You blink.
“My friends all have a mom and a dad,” she continues, her voice trembling just enough to make your chest ache. “Why do I only have my dad?”
There is no easy answer for that. There never has been.
You draw her a little closer, pressing your lips to her hair for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at her again. “Sometimes life doesn’t give everyone the same things,” you say gently. “And that can feel really unfair. You’re allowed to feel that way.”
Her lower lip trembles. “I want my mommy.”
The honesty of it is unbearable in its simplicity.
“I know you do,” you whisper, your own throat tightening. “That makes sense. She was yours.”
Haneul leans into you again, quieter now, her small body softening with the weight of her feelings.
“But you know what you do have?” you continue softly, your hand smoothing down her back. “You have a dad who loves you more than anything in the world. You have someone who shows up for you every single day. And that matters so much, even if it doesn’t make everything feel better right away.”
She is quiet for a long moment. Then, very softly, she asks, “Why does Daddy look at you like he looks at Mommy’s picture then?”
The question lands without warning. For a second, you think you might have misheard her. Your breath catches in your throat, your hands going still against her back.
Haneul tilts her head slightly, studying your face with the same quiet curiosity she applies to everything she does not understand yet. “He does,” she says, as if clarifying something obvious. “Sometimes.”
There is no answer ready for that. No careful, gentle explanation you can give that will not unravel something you have spent years keeping neatly contained.
Your mouth opens, then closes. “I…” you start, and stop again.
Because what can you say? That she's wrong? She’s not. That she’s right? You cannot. That her father is a man carrying grief and love in the same breath and does not know how to separate them anymore? That is not something a five-year-old should have to hold.
So you do the only thing you can. You pull her a little closer and press your cheek against her hair. “Sometimes grown-ups look at people in ways that are hard to explain,” you say quietly. “It doesn’t mean anything bad. It just means…feelings can be hard.”
She considers that, her small face thoughtful in a way that makes her seem older than she should be.
Then, eventually, she nods. “Okay.”
It is not full understanding, but it’s enough for now.
You help her lie down, tucking the comforter around her the way she likes, making sure the rabbit is secured in her arms. Her breathing evens out more quickly this time, exhaustion finally catching up with her after the scare, her lashes fluttering as sleep begins to pull at her.
You brush your fingers lightly through her hair. “I’ll be right here,” you murmur.
She hums softly in response, already drifting.
The apartment feels different once you step out of her room.
The hallway stretches a little longer than usual, the light dimmer somehow, as if the walls themselves have absorbed everything that just happened and are holding it close.
You hesitate outside Chan’s door because you can hear him.
Not loudly. Chan does not fall apart in ways that draw attention. Even now, the sound is muffled, contained, like he is trying to keep it from escaping into the rest of the apartment.
But it’s there. A quiet, uneven breath. A stifled sob he does not quite manage to swallow in time.
Your chest tightens painfully and push the door open slowly.
The room is dim, lit only by the low glow of the bedside lamp. Chan is sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows braced against his knees, one hand covering his mouth as he tries to keep himself quiet. His shoulders are hunched forward, the line of his back rigid in a way that tells you he has been holding this in for too long.
He doesn’t notice you right away. Or maybe he does, and he just cannot bring himself to react yet.
“Chan,” you say softly.
He flinches. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Then he drags his hand down over his face, scrubbing hard as if he can wipe away the evidence of what you have just walked in on.
“I’m fine,” he says, voice rough and unsteady in a way that makes the words ring hollow immediately.
You close the door behind you. “No, you’re not.”
For a second, he does not respond. Then his shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him all at once like something finally giving way.
You cross the room slowly, giving him time to pull himself back together if he needs it, though you already know he will not. Not this time.
When you reach him, you don’t ask permission. You simply sit beside him and wrap your arms around him.
And Chan breaks. He leans into you like he has been waiting for something solid to hold onto, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his breath stutters out of him, quiet and uneven. One of his hands grips at the fabric of your shirt, not hard, just enough to anchor himself, and you can feel the tremor running through him like something too big to contain anymore.
You hold him tighter. Your hand moves up to cradle the back of his head, fingers slipping into his hair the way you have done a hundred times for Haneul, the motion instinctive and soft and steady. “It’s okay,” you whisper, even though you know it is not.
He shakes his head against you. “No,” he breathes, voice breaking on the word. “It’s not.”
You don’t argue. You just let him have it.
The quiet sobs come and go, each one sounding like it has been dragged up from somewhere deep and long-guarded. You stay with him through all of it, your grip firm but gentle, your presence the only thing in the room that feels stable.
After a while, his breathing begins to slow. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” he admits, voice raw.
You close your eyes briefly, pressing your cheek against his hair. “You’re doing your best.”
“That’s not enough.”
The immediate certainty in his tone makes your chest ache.
“It’s for her,” you say softly.
He lets out a shaky breath. “That’s not what I mean.”
You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands still resting on his shoulders. “Then what do you mean?”
Chan hesitates. For a moment, it looks like he might retreat again, pull the walls back up, tuck everything away where it cannot be touched. But tonight has broken that pattern. Something in the way Haneul said that word. In the way you said what you did in her room. In the way he can no longer pretend this is something small and manageable.
He looks at you. And for the first time in a long time, he says her name out loud. “I still love Ki.”
The words land heavy between you. They don’t surprise you, but they do make your heart twist. “I know,” you say gently.
His eyes search your face, almost desperately. “I never stopped. I don’t think I ever will.”
“I know,” you repeat.
That part has never been the problem.
Chan swallows, his throat working around something painful. “But then there’s you.”
Your breath catches.
He lets out a quiet, broken laugh that holds no humor at all. “And I don’t know what to do with that,” he admits. “Because it feels like…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Like I’m betraying her. Like I’m betraying everything we had.”
“You’re not,” you say softly.
“How can you say that?” His voice cracks again, frustration and grief tangling together. “How can I look at you the way I do and not feel like I’m replacing her?”
“You’re not replacing her,” you say, a little firmer now, even as your heart aches for him. “She’s not something that can be replaced, Chan. What you had with her is yours. It always will be.”
He stares at you, torn. “Then what is this?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
The question hangs there, fragile and impossible. You feel it too. All of it. The years. The restraint. The love you have buried so carefully it has started to hurt just to breathe around it.
“This is something new,” you say quietly. “Something different.”
He shakes his head again, eyes closing briefly. “It doesn’t feel different. It feels like I’m…” He exhales sharply. “Like I’m letting go of her.”
“You’re not letting go,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “You’re just…making room.”
His eyes open. There is something in them now that you have never seen so clearly before: Hope. Fear. And something dangerously close to the same thing you have been carrying alone for far too long.
He does not move away from you. And you do not let go. Not when the room is still thick with everything he’s just said, not when his breath is still uneven, not when the weight of his grief and his confession and your own carefully hidden feelings have all finally been pulled into the same fragile space.
You just hold him. Your hand stays at the back of his head, fingers threading gently through his hair, the other resting warm and steady against his shoulder. You can feel the slow, gradual shift in him as the storm eases—not gone, not resolved, but quieter.
Chan exhales, long and shaky. Then, after a moment, he leans back just enough that he can look at you.
Your hands slide down to rest lightly on his arms as he pulls away, but neither of you fully breaks contact. There’s still a thread there, invisible but unmistakable, stretched between your bodies and your breathing and the way neither of you seems ready to let the other go just yet.
He looks at you for a long time. Not like before, not like the fleeting glances or the careful, restrained attention you’ve grown used to. This is different. Open. Unhidden. Like he’s finally allowing himself to see you without pulling back at the last second.
His eyes trace your face slowly, as if committing it to memory in a way he hasn’t let himself do until now. Your eyes, your mouth, the soft curve of your cheek where your hair falls loose from behind your ear. There’s something almost disbelieving in it, like he’s trying to reconcile the person he’s known for years with the person he’s just admitted he wants.
You feel it everywhere—in your chest. In your throat. In the way your hands tighten just slightly against his arms without you meaning them to.
“Chan…” you start, quiet, uncertain what you’re even trying to say.
He doesn’t let you finish. “I love you.”
The words are simple. No buildup. No hesitation once they leave him. And yet they land like something enormous.
Your breath catches, your entire body going still as they settle into the space between you. You knew—some part of you must have known, because nothing else could explain the way he’s looked at you, the way tonight unfolded, the way everything has been quietly building for years—but hearing it is different. Hearing it makes it real in a way that can’t be folded away again.
Chan swallows, his gaze never leaving yours. “I didn’t want to,” he admits, voice rough and unguarded. “I tried not to. For a long time.”
You don’t interrupt.. Because he’s still speaking like something is finally spilling out after being held back too long.
“I told myself it was just gratitude,” he continues, a faint, broken smile touching his mouth before it fades again. “That you were good with her, good for her, and I was just relieved. That’s all it was supposed to be.”
Your heart aches at the quiet self-denial in his words.
“But it wasn’t,” he says, shaking his head slightly. “It kept getting harder to ignore. The way you take care of her. The way you just fit here.” His eyes flick briefly around the room before coming back to you. “The way you make everything feel easier without even trying.”
Your fingers curl slightly against his sleeves.
“And I hated it,” he adds, more quietly. “Because every time I realized how much I…” He stops, exhales, tries again. “How much I needed you, it felt like I was losing something I wasn’t supposed to let go of.”
You can see it now, clearer than ever. The war he’s been fighting alone.
“I kept thinking,” he goes on, his voice dipping lower, “if I let myself have this—have you—then what does that say about her? About what we had? About the promises I made?”
You soften, your hand lifting instinctively to his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly along the line of his jaw. “It doesn’t say anything bad,” you whisper.
He leans into your touch without thinking. “I’m supposed to be enough,” he says, and there’s something almost desperate in it now. “For Haneul. For everything. I’m her dad, I’m all she has left, and I feel like if I don’t hold everything together perfectly, then I’m failing both of them.”
Your chest tightens painfully. “Chan…”
“I have to do it all,” he continues, his voice cracking slightly. “Because Ki can’t. Because she’s gone. And if I start needing someone else—if I start wanting someone else—then what does that make me?”
The question isn’t rhetorical. It’s raw. Real. Terrifying in its honesty.
You don’t answer right away. Instead, you let your hand slide fully to his face, cradling it gently, guiding his attention back to you when his gaze starts to drift somewhere far away again.
“It makes you human,” you say softly.
His eyes flicker.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” you continue, your voice steady even as your heart beats harder. “You were never meant to. Loving someone again doesn’t erase what you had with her. It doesn’t mean you’re failing her or Haneul.” You swallow, your thumb brushing once more against his skin. “It just means your heart didn’t stop when she left.”
For a second, neither of you moves. Then, slowly, you lean forward.
The kiss is soft. Tentative in a way, like you’re both stepping into something fragile and sacred all at once. Your lips brush his gently, testing, asking without words if this is real, if this is allowed, if this is something he can accept.
Chan stills completely. Then he exhales into you, something in him giving way all over again.
When you pull back just slightly, your forehead hovering close to his, your voice is barely more than a breath. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
For a heartbeat, he just looks at you. Then his hand comes up, sliding to the back of your neck, fingers warm and sure despite the tremor still lingering in them. And this time, when he kisses you, there is nothing tentative about it.
He pulls you closer, closing the space between you in a way that feels like a decision, like a line being crossed that neither of you can step back from now. His mouth moves against yours with a kind of urgency that has been building for far too long, not rushed but deep, grounding, as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of you, the reality of this moment.
You respond without thinking, your hands finding his shoulders, then his chest, holding onto him just as tightly as he holds onto you.
Everything else fades. The room. The hallway. The years of restraint. There is only this—the quiet sound of your breathing, the warmth of his hands, the way his grip tightens.
You both pull back to breathe, and before he can say anything, you speak. “Can I make you feel good? Can I show you how much I love you? ”
Your words hang in the quiet air of Chan’s bedroom, a soft demand that stops the slow sway of your bodies against each other. The light from the hallway casts a long, warm stripe across the floor, painting the edge of the bed in gold. His hands, which had been cradling your hips as you kissed, freeze on your skin.
“All of you,” you whisper, lips brushing his jaw.
Chan looks down at you, his eyes—a deep, tired brown that has finally started to shine again—searching yours. His breath, warm and steady, flows over your cheek. He doesn’t speak. He just nods, a slow, deliberate dip of his chin that feels like the dropping of a final, heavy weight he’s carried for years.
He lets go of you, his fingers sliding from the curve of your waist with a lingering drag. You stand and reach for his sweats before kneeling before him.
The floor is soft through the thin fabric of your summer dress. You look up at him as you peel his sweats and boxers down his legs, your hands working slowly, taking the time to feel the heat of his thighs, the strength in his calves. He pulls his shirt over his head, the fabric falling to the floor beside you. And there he sits before you, completely exposed.
Chan is perfect. His chest is broad, arms defined, shoulders solid, but they carry a permanent slope, a bearing of quiet burden. And between his legs, his cock stands half-hard, a promise waiting to be fully realized.
It’s beautiful to you. Not in a sculpted, idealized way, but in a real way. The shaft is thick, a solid, warm column of flesh with a slight curve upward. The head is a darker shade, a flushed plum color, already glistening with a single, clear bead of moisture at its tip. The skin is smooth, but you can see the faint tracery of veins underneath, a network of life pulsing just beneath the surface.
You lean forward, bringing your face close. The scent of him fills your nose—the faint, musky aroma of a man, and something deeper, something uniquely his. You don’t speak. You just open your mouth and press your lips to the side of his shaft.
The skin is hot. Silken. You kiss it, a soft, closed-mouth press that makes his whole body shiver. You hear a shaky intake of air above you. Your tongue comes out then, flat and wet, and you lick a long, slow stripe from the base all the way up to the crown. The taste is clean, salty, male. That bead of precum meets your tongue and you take it, a tiny, sweet-bitter pearl that you savor.
You look up at him again. His head is tilted back, his eyes closed. His hands are clenched at his sides, fists balled tight. He’s holding on, you think. Holding on to control, to the memory of how to receive pleasure without guilt.
You want to give him that permission. To shatter that control.
Your lips open wider. You take the head of his cock into your mouth, circling it, sucking lightly. It’s not fully hard yet, but it responds instantly to the heat and wetness of your mouth, thickening, lengthening, the curve becoming more pronounced. You suck harder, pulling more of him inside. Your lips stretch around his girth. You feel the ridge of his crown press against the roof of your mouth, a firm, smooth bulge. Your tongue dances underneath, flicking against the sensitive seam where the head meets the shaft—his frenulum. You trace it with the tip of your tongue, a gentle, teasing stroke that makes his hips jerk forward.
A groan escapes him, low and ragged. It’s the first sound he’s made, and it cracks the quiet like thunder.
You pull back, letting his cock slip from your lips with a wet pop. It’s fully erect now, standing proud and rigid, pointing up toward his stomach. The shaft is thick, a deep, flushed pink. The head is swollen, dark and gleaming with your saliva and his own fluids.
“Chan,” you murmur, your voice husky. “Look at me.”
He forces his eyes open. They’re hazy, unfocused with need. He looks down at you, kneeling before him like an offering, your face level with his sex.
“I want you to feel this,” you say. “I want you to let yourself feel it.”
You don’t wait for another answer. You dive forward again, taking him deep.
This time, you don’t tease. You engulf him. Your lips seal around his shaft, and you push your head forward, taking him as far into your mouth as you can. The head presses deep, nudging at the entrance to your throat. You relax, letting your jaw go slack, and he slides deeper, a hot, solid invasion that fills your mouth completely. Your cheeks hollow as you suck, drawing hard on him.
The feeling is intense for you, too. The weight of him on your tongue. The smooth, insistent pressure against your tongue. The salty, living taste that floods your senses. You move your head back, then forward again, establishing a rhythm.
Your hands come up to cradle what your mouth cannot take. One hand wraps around the base of his shaft, your fingers squeezing the firm root. The other hand cups his balls, weighing them in your palm, feeling their fullness, their heat. You roll them gently, a soft, kneading massage that makes his thighs tremble.
Your head bobs. Your lips slide along his skin, a slick, wet glide. Each time you pull back, his cock emerges shiny and dripping, coated in a mix of your saliva and his own essence. Each time you plunge forward, your mouth accepts him greedily, swallowing him down.
Chan’s hands come to your head. They don’t push or guide. They simply rest there, his palms on your cheeks, his fingers threading into your hair. It’s a touch of connection, of gratitude. His thumbs stroke your temples.
You increase the pace. Not frantic. Not desperate. But purposeful. Your suction becomes stronger, your tongue more active. You swirl it around his head each time you reach the top, licking across that sensitive ridge, teasing the tiny slit at the tip. You feel him pulse in your mouth, a hard, rhythmic throb that signals his building climax.
His breathing changes. It becomes ragged, shallow pants. His hips begin to move in tiny, involuntary thrusts, matching your rhythm. His cock slides in and out of your mouth with a wet, rhythmic sound—shhhlick, shhhlick, shhhlick.
“God…” he gasps, the word torn from him. “I’m…I’m gonna…”
You know. You feel it. The tension in his shaft, the way his balls draw up tighter against his body, the frantic pulse beating under your tongue. You want it. You want all of it.
You pull back until just the head is in your lips, suckling fiercely, your tongue fluttering against his frenulum in rapid, tiny strokes. Your hand on his shaft pumps in time with your sucking, a tight, milking motion.
His climax erupts. It’s not a single burst. It’s a series of them, a rolling, hot flood that pours into your mouth. The first spurt hits your tongue, thick and warm, a distinct, slightly bitter taste that is purely him. The second follows instantly, another gush that coats your mouth and fills your cheeks. You swallow, taking it down, but more comes. The third, the fourth—a continuous, generous release that you work to accept, sucking hard to pull every drop from him.
Chan cries out, a raw, unfiltered sound of release that echoes in the quiet room. His body locks and he falls onto the bed, his back arching, hands clutching your head. His hips push forward, driving his cock deeper into your mouth as he empties himself completely.
You stay there, sucking gently through the last few pulses, until his shaft softens slightly in your mouth, until the flow subsides. Then you slowly let him slip out.
His cock lays against his stomach, spent, glistening with a mix of your saliva and his own spend. You lean forward and kiss it once more, a soft, affectionate press against the damp head.
You rise then, your knees aching slightly from the floor. You stand before him, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. Chan’s eyes are open, staring at you with a dazed, awed expression. His face is flushed, his chest heaving.
“You…” he starts, but his voice fails.
You smile, a slow, tender curve of your lips before climbing onto the bed with him, straddling his hips. You reach for the hem of your cotton dress, pulling it up over your head and discarding it onto the floor. You’re naked now, save for your panties. You hook your thumbs into the sides of those and peel them down your legs, kicking them away.
You look down at him, at his body spread out before you, at his softened cock resting on his belly. You see the love in his eyes, the trust, the raw openness. It fills you with a warmth that spreads from your heart to every extremity.
You lean down and kiss his mouth. His lips are soft, pliant. He kisses you back, a slow, deep melding of mouths that tastes of shared intimacy. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath your palm, the rise and fall of his breathing.
“Do you have a condom?,” you whisper against his lips.
He nods. You reach over to the bedside table, to the small drawer and take one out, the foil packet cool in your hand. You open it, and you roll the latex down his length with careful, tender hands. He’s already beginning to stir again, his cock responding to your touch, filling out once more beneath the sheath.
When he’s protected, you position yourself over him. You kneel on either side of his hips, looking down at the junction of your bodies. Your own sex is ready, aching for him. You’ve been wet for a long time now. You can feel the heat pooling between your legs, the slippery evidence of your desire coating your inner thighs.
You guide his cock, holding it steady and lower yourself, slowly, letting the crowned head press against your entrance.
Your vulva is swollen with anticipation. The outer lips are plump, a deeper pink than usual, parted slightly by your own moisture. The inner lips are slick, glistening, framing the opening that now welcomes him. You feel the pressure of his tip against your flesh, a firm, promising nudge.
You sink down. The head of his cock enters you, pushing past your outer lips, penetrating your opening. The feeling is exquisite—a slow, stretching fullness that makes you gasp. Your walls are snug, gripping him immediately as he slides deeper. You feel every inch of his progress, the smooth drag of his shaft along your sensitive, soaked inner flesh.
You go down until you’re seated fully on him, his entire length buried inside you. Your body accepts him completely. Your walls stretch to accommodate his girth, hugging him tightly. The head of his cock presses deep, reaching a place that makes your eyes flutter.
You stay there for a moment, just feeling him. Feeling the connection. The heat. The perfect fit.
Then you begin to move. You rise up, a slow, deliberate lift that drags his cock almost entirely out of you, until just the head remains nestled inside. Then you sink back down, taking him in again, a smooth, gliding descent. Your hips roll as you do it, a gentle, circular motion that grinds his shaft against your walls.
The pace is slow. Sensual. There’s no frantic pounding, no desperate race. This is a joining, a communion. Each upward lift is a tease, a near-separation that makes you both ache. Each downward plunge is a reunion, a filling that makes you both sigh.
Your breasts move with your rhythm. As you rise and fall, they bounce in a soft, circular dance, their weight shifting with each motion. Chan’s eyes are fixed on them, watching the movement, the way your nipples harden and peak in the cool air of the room.
Your hands find his chest. You splay your fingers over his pectorals, feeling the firm muscle underneath. You lean forward, changing your angle, and this shifts the sensation inside you dramatically. Now, as you sink down, his cock rubs directly along the front wall of your pussy, stroking over your most sensitive spot—the swollen, hungry bundle of nerves just inside your entrance.
A sharp, sweet pleasure bolts through you. Your breath catches. You moan, a low, continuous sound that spills from your lips without thought.
“Chan…oh, that’s…right there…”
He understands. His hands come to your hips, not to control, but to feel. His palms cup your bottom, feeling the flesh there jiggle and tighten with each of your movements. Your ass is firm, and as you ride him, it claps softly against his thighs, a gentle, rhythmic percussion of flesh.
You speed up slightly. Your rises are higher now, pulling him almost completely out before you take him back in with a smooth, wet slide. The sound of your joining fills the room—a soft, slick, repeating noise of flesh meeting flesh, of moisture spreading.
Inside you, the feelings multiply. Each time his cock enters, it stretches your opening wide, a brief, glorious pressure that gives way to a smooth glide. Your walls clasp around him, squeezing, then relaxing as he pulls back. The condom makes a slight difference—a faint, latex texture over his skin—but the heat, the size, the shape of him are all there, transmitted through the thin barrier.
His own pleasure is rebuilding. You can see it on his face. His eyes are half-closed, his mouth open in a silent, sustained groan. His hips begin to meet yours, pushing upward as you come down, adding his own force to your movements. The union becomes a collaboration, a shared rhythm.
Your clit, swollen and exposed, rubs against the base of his shaft with each of your downward strokes. The friction is indirect, but constant, a building stimulation that starts to coil a tight spring of tension low in your belly.
You lean forward further, bracing your hands on his shoulders. This changes your angle again, and now his cock is driving even deeper, pressing firmly against that front wall, stroking over your G-spot with every inward motion. The sensation is overwhelming, a deep, internal massage that makes your whole body shudder.
“I love you,” you whisper, the words coming out between gasps. “I love this…I love being with you like this…”
Chan’s eyes open fully, locking with yours. His hands slide from your hips to your back, pulling you closer against him. “I love you,” he rasps, his voice thick with emotion and arousal. “I feel…I feel alive again. With you.”
The words, the connection, the physical joining—it all combines, pushing you toward your own peak. The coil inside you tightens, winding tighter with every stroke, every deep fill, every grind of your clit against him.
Your movements become more urgent, though still controlled. Your rises are quicker, your descents more forceful. Your breath comes in sharp pants. Your breasts bounce more vigorously now, a faster, more pronounced dance. Your ass cheeks slap against his thighs with a firmer sound, a rhythmic beat that matches the pounding of your hearts.
Inside, your pussy is drenched, flooded with your own fluids. The condom is slick with them, making each stroke smoother, easier. Your walls grip him tightly, then release, a pulsing clasp that seems to pull him deeper each time.
You’re close. So close. The spring is wound to its limit.
Chan feels it too. His thrusts become more insistent, his upward drives meeting your downward rides with perfect timing. His cock is a hard, relentless piston inside you, stroking, filling, claiming.
You cry out, a sharp, broken sound as the spring finally snaps.
Your orgasm isn’t a single burst. It’s a rolling, wave-like series of contractions that grip your entire lower body. Your cunt clenches around his shaft in rapid, intense pulses, a squeezing rhythm that milks him through the condom. Your clit flares with a sharp, electric pleasure that radiates out through your pelvis. Your thighs shake. Your back arches.
You see stars behind your closed eyelids. A hot, blinding release floods through you, leaving you gasping, trembling, clinging to his shoulders.
Chan follows you, pushed over the edge by your internal convulsions. His hips buck upward, driving deep as he holds you tight. His own climax, muted by the condom, is still a powerful, physical event. You feel his body stiffen beneath you, feel the hard, throbbing pulse of his cock inside you as he finds his release. His groan is long, drawn-out, a sound of complete surrender. “Oh my God,” he pants out, throat raw.
You collapse forward onto his chest, your body spent, your muscles loose. You lay there, his cock still inside you, both of you joined, both of you breathing in ragged, synchronized gasps. The room is quiet again, save for the sound of your panting, the faint rustle of the sheets.
Slowly, carefully, you lift yourself off him. His softened cock slips out of you, the condom slick and full. You dispose of it quietly, then crawl back onto the bed beside him, curling into his side.
He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. His skin is hot, damp with sweat. His heart beats a strong, steady rhythm against your ear.
“Stay,” he murmurs, his voice sleepy, thick with contentment. “Please don’t leave.”
summary: he’s new to the neighborhood, moving into the house directly across from yours in the quiet little cul-de-sac. you don’t know much about him. only that he works on cars in his garage, mows his lawn shirtless like he’s trying to ruin your life, and always looks a little too tired. it’s not until a little girl appears in his driveway one afternoon that you realize the handsome mechanic across the street comes with a tiny family attached.
pairing: girldad!bangchan x reader
genre: all the above (f,s,a)
cw/tags: eventual smut, slow burn, grief/loss, fear of abandonment, insecurity, self-worth issues, overworking, exhaustion & burnout, praise, emotional intimacy
soundtrack: apple music - lithen when you're in love / spotify
* ✩˚word count: ~7k ˚✩ *
The café Chan mentioned turned out to be small and warm, tucked between a bookstore and a laundromat near the edge of downtown.
The kind of place with different kinds of seating, many hanging plants, and soft music low enough that conversations blended together quietly beneath it.
You spotted them near the window almost immediately.
Jia sat on her knees in a booth beside Chan, coloring while he scrolled through his phone with his coffee untouched beside him.
He looked up the second you walked in, and there it was again. That subtle shift in his face every time he saw you lately.
“Hey,” he said as you approached.
“Hi.”
Jia looked up next, immediately brightening. “You came.”
“I did.”
“Daddy thought you were gonna cancel.”
Chan blinked once. “Okay.”
You laughed softly as you slid into the booth across from them. “Did he now?”
“Jia,” he sighed out, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. She looked completely unbothered by his tone and went back to coloring.
Your eyes drifted toward him again. “You thought I was gonna cancel?”
Chan looked faintly embarrassed, “I don’t know,” he admitted with a small shrug. “You said yes pretty fast.”
The words slipped out naturally. “That’s because I wanted to come.”
The barista called your pickup order a second later, breaking whatever had started settling between you.
“I’ll grab it,” Chan said automatically, already standing.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” The quiet answer lingered strangely in your chest while you watched him walk toward the counter.
Across from you, Jia looked up from her coloring book. “Daddy smiled in the car today.”
Your heart betrayed you instantly. “Oh?”
Jia nodded very seriously. “Usually traffic makes him grumpy.”
“Yeah?”
Jia nodded very seriously, leaning closer across the table like this was important information.
Your smile softened before you could stop it. “Maybe he was excited for cake pops.”
Jia considered that for a second, then shook her head. “No. He smiled before I asked for pops.”
You pressed your lips together, trying very hard not to look over at Chan while he stood at the counter waiting for the order. “That sounds like a good morning, then.”
Jia nodded once, satisfied with that answer, before returning her attention to the coloring page in front of her.
By the time Chan came back, you were still pretending your chest hadn’t done something incredibly inconvenient. He slid your coffee toward you first, then set Jia’s cake pop carefully beside her crayons.
“Thank you,” you said softly.
“Of course.”
The morning crowd moved quietly around you after that, but somehow the little booth by the window still felt oddly separate from the rest of the café. Like the three of you had slipped into your own corner of it.
Jia carefully peeled pieces off her cake pop while you and Chan drifted into easier conversation across the table.
Work.
The neighborhood block party.
The fact that Jia apparently believed every stuffed animal in existence had emotional needs.
“She cried because I washed Leebit once,” Chan admitted, sounding deeply tired about it.
Your eyebrows lifted immediately. “You washed her best friend?” you asked in mock horror.
“She smelled like applesauce.”
“That’s not the point.”
Jia gasped softly beside you like she couldn’t believe either of you would reopen such a traumatic event, and you both ended the conversation with a chuckle.
She then took another thoughtful bite of her cake pop before looking back up at you. “Where’s your husband?”
You nearly choked.
Across from you, Chan went completely still. “Jia!” he said immediately, sounding genuinely horrified this time.
“What?” she asked softly, blinking between both of you. “Nana said grown-ups usually have one.”
You felt your whole body heat up.
Chan dragged a hand over his face. “Okay,” he muttered tiredly. “We are not interrogating people this morning.”
Jia frowned slightly. “I was just asking.”
“I know, bug.”
His voice softened automatically at the end despite the obvious embarrassment threatening to kill him where he sat.
Your eyes dropped briefly toward your coffee cup while you tried to regain control of your nervous system.
The question shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did, but somehow it settled directly into every quiet part of your life you usually avoided thinking about too long.
Chan looked over at you carefully then. “You absolutely do not have to answer that,” he said gently.
The sincerity in his voice made something ache unexpectedly in your chest.
You let out a small laugh, mostly to buy yourself a second to think. “No husband,” you admitted softly.
Jia tilted her head immediately. “Why?”
“Jia.”
“What?!” she whisper-shouted back.
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Chan looked moments away from dissolving into the floor.
“I think,” you said carefully, glancing down into your coffee for a second, “it just never really happened for me.”
Jia considered this very seriously while taking another bite of her cake pop. “It’s okay,” she said seriously. “Daddy was married to my mommy. But not anymore.”
Silence settled over the table instantly.
Chan closed his eyes briefly. “Bug,” he muttered softly.
“What?” she asked, confused again. “I’m helping.”
Your chest tightened painfully at the sincerity in her voice, because she thought she was making you feel better.
Chan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck before glancing toward you apologetically. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” you said quietly.
His gaze lifted toward yours again after that. Searching in that way he always did when something mattered more than he knew how to say out loud.
“Still,” he murmured.
Before either of you could figure out where the conversation was heading next, Jia held her cake pop toward you suddenly.
“You can have some.”
The offer was immediate. Serious enough to make your chest ache all over again.
Chan huffed a soft laugh beside her, shaking his head slightly. “That’s how she fixes everything,” he admitted quietly.
Your eyes stayed on Jia for another second before you finally smiled. “That’s a pretty good system,” you murmured softly.
Jia nodded like she already knew that.
Chan watched the two of you quietly from across the table, fingers resting loosely around his coffee cup now gone cold.
Something in his expression had changed again. Softer than before. More careful, somehow.
Like he was realizing this wasn’t just Jia getting attached anymore.
Outside the café windows, people drifted past beneath the late morning sunlight while the quiet buzz of conversation carried around you.
But sitting here with them somehow felt strangely separate from the rest of the world.
Jia yawned suddenly beside Chan, tiny shoulders lifting dramatically with it.
He glanced down immediately. “You getting tired already?”
“No.” The answer came too fast to be believable.
Chan smiled faintly into his coffee. “Mm.”
Jia ignored him completely before looking back at you instead. “Daddy has to work later.”
Your eyes lifted toward Chan automatically “Today?”
He nodded once. “Friend of mine needed help at the garage.”
“Uncle Hyunjin,” Jia added around another bite of cake pop.
“Mhm,” Chan hummed. “Uncle Hyunjin.”
“He lets me sit on the toolbox.”
“Which is very unsafe,” Chan muttered.
“But fun.”
A laugh slipped out of you softly. “So that’s who keeps stealing you on weekends.”
Chan leaned back slightly in the booth. “Pretty much.”
“If you want,” you added carefully, “Jia and I can hang out later?”
Chan looked faintly surprised by the offer. “You don’t have plans?”
“Not really.”
Jia gasped softly beside him. “We can color.”
“That sounds less like a suggestion, and more so a demand." You laughed out.
“She does that,” Chan murmured into his coffee.
Jia ignored him completely. “And maybe cartoons.”
“Wow,” you nodded seriously. “Big plans ahead.”
A quiet laugh escaped Chan before he could stop it. “If you’re sure,” he said.
Your eyes flicked toward him again. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”
Something in his expression softened briefly at that before Jia shoved the remaining piece of cake pop dramatically into her mouth.
“So, I’m coming over?”
You looked over at Jia, who already seemed entirely certain of the answer. “I think that’s what we agreed on, yeah.”
“Okay.” She nodded once. “Can Leebit come too?”
“I don’t think she’d forgive me if I said no.”
Jia smiled brightly at that before returning to the last few crumbs of her cake pop.
Across the table, Chan shook his head softly. “We really walked into this one.”
“Into what?”
“Now she’s going to expect you every time I have to work last minute.”
Something about his words lingered strangely in your chest, and before you could figure out why and respond, Jia held up frosting-covered fingers toward Chan.
“Sticky.”
Chan sighed quietly and reached for napkins immediately.
You smiled into your coffee as he cleaned frosting from her hands with the tired patience of someone who’d clearly done this a thousand times before.
And somewhere between the coffee going cold in your cup and Jia humming softly beside him, the morning slipped into something comfortable and easy.
The kind of easy that felt a little dangerous if you thought about it too long.
𝜗𝜚
“Daddy said I can only have one juice box.”
You looked up from the living room floor where you’d been helping Jia get crayons from the zipper pocket of her backpack.
“Sounds like we better listen to daddy.”
Jia sighed dramatically. “He says too much sugar makes me crazy.”
“I think he might be onto something there.”
“I’m already crazy.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Late afternoon sunlight spilled across your apartment while cartoons played quietly in the background, the volume low enough to blend into the rest of the room.
Across the coffee table, Jia carefully lined up 7 other stuffed animals beside Leebit.
Meanwhile, Chan had been gone for less than an hour, and somehow, his absence was already noticeable. Which felt ridiculous. You barely knew him.
“Can you braid hair?” Jia asked suddenly.
Your eyes dropped toward the doll currently being shoved into your lap. “I-I do. How many braids does your baby want?”
Jia looked down at the doll seriously. “Three.”
“Three?”
She nodded once. “So she can be fancy.” Jia scooted closer beside you on the rug while cartoons played quietly in the background.
You carefully separated the doll’s tangled hair between your fingers while Jia watched with complete concentration.
“Daddy can’t braid,” she informed you.
“No?”
“He tries.” Jia paused thoughtfully. “Then he gets frustrated and says bad words.”
A laugh escaped you softly “Poor daddy.”
Jia nodded sympathetically before handing you another tiny hair tie from the floor.
Outside, the afternoon had started slipping slowly toward evening, sunlight stretching gold across the living room walls.
And somewhere across town, Chan was probably elbow-deep in an engine while you sat cross-legged on your floor learning how his daughter liked her dolls’ hair styled.
𝜗𝜚
Once 8:30 rolled around. Jia was already fed and tucked in your bed fast asleep by the time Chan was knocking at your door.
The second you opened it, he looked exhausted. Grease still smudged faintly along one forearm. Dark curls a mess from repeatedly running his hands through them. “I’m so sorry.”
Your eyebrows lifted immediately. “For what?”
“For being late.”
He glanced past you automatically, already searching for signs of Jia. “Hyunjin and I lost track of time.”
“Chan.”
His eyes returned to yours.
“She’s fine.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders immediately. Not all of it. Just enough for you to notice how much of it he’d been carrying.
“She ate dinner, we watched cartoons, and she passed out about twenty minutes ago.”
Chan blinked. “Already?”
“Completely knocked out.”
A tired breath escaped him “Thank God.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Honest enough to make something in your chest ache.
“Long day?”
Chan let out a quiet laugh. “You have no idea.”
For a moment, neither of you moved. The porch light cast a warm glow across the front steps while crickets hummed somewhere deeper in the neighborhood.
“Come in,” you offered softly. “She’s sleeping in my bed.”
He froze for half a second. Not because of the invitation. Because of the image it created. “Okay,” he said quietly.
You stepped aside to let him in. The house was dim now, lit mostly by a lamp in the living room and the light over the stove.
He shut the door gently, instinctively quieter now that he knew Jia was asleep. “She wasn’t any trouble, was she?”
Your eyes immediately narrowed. “Chan.”
“I’m just asking.”
“She spent half the afternoon making me braid hair.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Sounds exhausting.”
“I barely survived.”
A tired laugh escaped him. And for the first time since he’d arrived, he looked like he was finally starting to relax. The silence that followed settled comfortably between you.
His gaze drifted toward the hallway towards your bedroom, where Jia was currently asleep beneath your blankets.
Safe, warm, and completely unaware her father had spent the last thirty minutes worrying about getting back to her.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
You opened your mouth immediately. “Chan.”
“No.” The interruption was firm and gentle, causing your heart to flutter.
His eyes found yours again. “I know you don’t think it’s a big deal. But it is.”
The house suddenly felt very warm, because he wasn’t talking about dinner. Or cartoons. Or braiding hair.
He was talking about trust.
About coming back after a long day and knowing Jia had been happy; knowing she had been taken care of.
His gaze dropped briefly before he added, softer this time, “She had a good day then,” he then pauses, “she really likes you.”
The words settled somewhere deeper than they probably should have. You glanced toward the hallway before looking back at him.
“And you?” The question slipped out before you could stop it.
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Me?”
Suddenly, you became very aware of how that sounded.
“Did you have a good day?” you clarified, a little too quickly.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I think I did.”
Something about the answer felt like it meant more than the words themselves. The silence that followed stretched comfortably between you. He leaned against the couch, his gaze drifting to the dark outline of your front yard in the window.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Depends.”
A quiet laugh escaped him, then he asked, “What’s with the garden?”
You blinked. “The garden?”
He nodded. “Every time I see you outside, you’re messing with something out there.”
Warmth settled in your chest unexpectedly. Not because of the question. Because he’d noticed.
“I’ve always kinda liked doing it.”
Chan hummed softly. “That’s not really an answer.”
You laughed. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
“There isn’t more to it?” His curious gaze lingered on you. “People don’t spend hours in the heat pulling weeds because they kinda like something.”
Your smile faltered slightly. “You judging my hobbies?”
“I’m saying there’s probably a story there.”
“I…” You looked down briefly. “I think I just find it healing.”
He didn’t interrupt.
“You put something in the ground, nurture it, and eventually it becomes something beautiful.” Your shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “There’s something comforting about that.”
For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then he muttered out a quiet, “Yeah.” His gaze dropped briefly toward his hands, “I never thought about it that way before.”
You tilted your head slightly. “The gardening?”
Chan nodded. “The waiting.”
The answer surprised you. “Waiting?”
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You put time into something. Take care of it every day. Hope you’re doing it right.”
His eyes drifted toward your bedroom for the briefest second before returning to your curious stare. “And then one day you look up and realize it’s become something completely different from what it was when you started.”
Your chest tightened. Suddenly this conversation wasn’t about tomatoes or flowers anymore.
Chan let out a quiet laugh through his nose. “Maybe that’s why I like watching you out there.”
Your heart stumbled. “In my garden?”
“Yeah.”
His smile softened. “Reminds me that some things take time and patience.”
And somehow that felt like the most personal thing he’d told you all night. Your eyes stayed on him for a moment longer than they probably should have. He didn’t look away. For once, neither of you rushed to fill the silence.
Then he glanced toward the hallway again. “She’s really asleep?”
A smile pulled at your mouth. “I could take Leebit and she wouldn’t even know.”
His laugh came easier this time. “Good.”
The word lingered. Not because of Jia. Because for the first time all evening, he looked like he wasn’t in a hurry to leave. Like he had finally found a place to sit down, and stay for a minute.
Your heart gave an uncomfortable little squeeze as you watched him relax.
“What?” Chan asked suddenly.
You blinked. “What?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’ve been staring at me for a minute now.”
Something uncomfortable and fluttery settled in your chest. “That’s not true.”
“It’s a little true.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“That’s your defense?”
“It’s all I’ve got.” You laughed out.
Somewhere along the way, the two of you migrated from the front door to the couch. The conversation stopped needing a direction. One story became another.
Chan told you about his first car.
You told him about the pepper plant you accidentally killed three summers in a row.
You learned he hated mushrooms.
He learned you couldn’t keep a houseplant alive unless it lived outside.
Then neither of you noticed how the hours slipped by quietly.
Outside, the neighborhood settled into sleep.
Inside, Chan’s laughter had become easier. Less guarded and more frequent.
Every now and then you’d catch yourself staring at him. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and his dimple deepened. you could’ve melted on the spot every time he smiled wide. The way he looked at you as he listened. Like every story mattered. Like what say you mattered.
You glance up.“Wait.”
He followed your gaze. “What?”
You stared at the clock on the wall. “Is that right?”
His eyes widened. “No way.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“How?” He questioned.
“I genuinely have no idea.”
Then he eventually glanced toward the hallway, reality returning all at once. “I should probably get her home.”
The words landed quietly as you nodded. “Probably.”
Neither of you seemed willing to be the first one to leave, and as he ducked his head trying to unsuccessfully hide a smile, he mumbles. “We’re really bad at ending these conversations.”
A laugh escaped you. “Are we?”
“I think so,” he paused, It’s a good thing.”
Your heart betrayed you immediately. It sounded less like an observation, and more like he planned on having more conversations like this. Then he reluctantly pushed himself up from the couch, like he wasn’t entirely convinced leaving was the right choice either.
You led him down the hallway, and by the time you reached your bedroom door, he had already slowed.
Once you opened the door, Jia was asleep exactly where you’d left her. One arm wrapped around Leebit, half the blanket kicked off. Completely sprawled across the middle of your bed.
Chan stared for a second. Something in his expression shifted. Not the way it usually did though.
You stayed beside him quietly. Neither of you wanting to disturb her. Finally, he exhaled softly through his nose.
“She really made herself at home.”
“A little.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Sorry about that.”
“You apologize too much.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.
He froze, then he turned his head toward you. The hallway light caught in his eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Your voice came out softer than intended.
“You don’t have to say sorry every time someone does something nice for you.” Suddenly you became very aware of how close he was standing.
And for once, he didn’t immediately have a response, he just looked at you, like he was trying to decide what to do with this new feeling.
His gaze dropped briefly, towards your mouth, then right back up. A tiny movement of course, something that was easy to miss.
But for you, impossible to ignore.
Your breath caught and so did his.
And suddenly the space in between you felt very little, very quiet.
Very very concerning.
Then from the bed, “Daddy?”
Both of you jumped, and he immediately looked away. The spell breaking all at once. “I’m here, bug,” he answered softly as he walked further into your room.
Jia made a sleepy sound from beneath the blankets. “Okay.”
Then, “Leebit too?”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Chan pressed a hand over his eyes briefly “Yeah.”
Jia settled immediately. “Okay.” Within seconds, her breathing evened out again. Like she’d only woken up long enough to do a quick room check.
The room fell quiet once more, but not the same kind of quiet. The moment from before had slipped away, leaving something else behind.
He looked down at his daughter for a second before carefully pulling the blanket higher over her shoulder.
And when he turned back toward you, something in his expression had changed. Like he was suddenly very aware of how close you’d been standing too. Neither of you said anything. There wasn’t really anything to say. Not without making things better or worse.
Chan cleared his throat first. “I should get her home.” The words sounded slightly rough around the edges.
You nodded. “I agree.”
Neither of you sounded particularly enthusiastic about it, he smiled faintly after you spoke. Then leaned closer towards your bed to carefully to gather Jia from the bed. This definitely seemed more intimate having him in your room now.
She stirred the moment he lifted her. Small hands immediately finding the front of his shirt. Head tucking beneath his chin. Still mostly asleep.
The way she fit in his arms made your chest ache.
Chan adjusted her weight effortlessly. One arm beneath her legs. The other supporting her back. “Thank you,” he said quietly. This time, there wasn’t an apology attached to it. Just gratitude.
Your smile softened. “You’re welcome.”
For a second, neither of you looked away. Then Jia let out a sleepy sigh and buried her face deeper into his shoulder.
The spell broke again.
He adjusted her again against his chest before glancing toward the doorway. “I should let you get some sleep.”
You laughed softly. “Says the man who got here three hours ago.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Fair.”
He lingered for another second anyway. Eventually, he shook his head softly. “Goodnight.” The word felt strangely intimate. Like it belonged to something much more familiar than this.
Your chest tightened. “Goodnight, Chan.”
His eyes held yours for a moment, then he smiled before turning toward the front door.
You waited until the door closed behind him.
Waited until you saw the porch light next door flicker on through the window. Only then did you let yourself exhale.
Because somewhere between coffee, cartoons, talking about your hobbies, and three accidental hours on your couch…something had changed, and neither of you had missed it.
As you crawled into bed, your phone lit up.
Channie: She woke up long enough to ask if Leebit made it home safely.
You stared at the message, then laughed out loud.
You: And? Did she?
Three dots appeared immediately.
Channie: She’s safe. Mildly traumatized from being dropped in the street, but safe.
Another laugh escaped you.
You: Thank God.
Channie: Jia also wanted me to tell you goodnight.
Your smile softened immediately.
You: Tell her I said goodnight too.
The reply came a minute later.
Channie: Will do.
Three dots appeared again.
Disappeared.
Then returned.
Channie: Thanks again. For today.
You stared at the message longer than necessary. Somehow it felt different from the thank you he’d given you at the door, like it wasn’t just about babysitting anymore.
You: Anytime.
The message sent.
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
Then vanished.
Nothing else came.
Yet somehow, as you set your phone on the nightstand and turned off the lamp, you found yourself smiling into the darkness.
Sleep definitely didn’t find you for a while.
𝜗𝜚
Three days later, you were halfway through watering your garden when a shadow fell across the flower bed.
“Question.”
You looked up immediately to see Chan standing on the other side of your fence.
Hair damp.
Black tank stained with what looked like chalk.
Still looking unfairly hot right where he was standing.
“I should have an answer.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Jia wants to know if tomatoes are fruits or vegetables. She says fruits.”
You blinked. “That’s the question?”
“I’ve been informed it’s important.”
“And you couldn’t Google it?”
“I did.”
“And you still came here?” You laughed.
He leaned his forearms against the fence. Looking entirely too comfortable. “She said you’d know more.”
You stared at him for a second smiling. “Tomatoes are fruits.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“Cucumbers too.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Seriously?”
“Seeds.”
“That’s a ridiculous system.”
A laugh escaped you. “Take it up with science.”
He looked as if he was considering this. “I’m not arguing with science.”
“Coward.”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Let Jia know she’s right.” You pointed at him immediately.
“I can’t phrase it like that.”
“Why not?”
“She’ll never let me live it down.”
“Good.”
For a moment neither of you looked away. The late afternoon sun warmed the air between you while a breeze stirred the leaves overhead.
“Another question?” He asked, this time softer.
“Hmm?” You look back down watering the seedlings.
“Or well,” he pauses looking slightly flustered which gained your full attention again. “M-my mom is taking Jia for the weekend,” he starts while rubbing the back of his neck.
“Okay?”
“It’s my birthday.”
“Oh!” You smile. Really?”
Chan nodded. “Saturday.”
“Twenty-nine right?”
He nodded.
You immediately winced. “Wow.”
“Wow?”
“That’s serious.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He rolled his eyes, though a smirk started to appear.
You went back to watering the seedlings, but only for a second before looking up again. “Sooo you came over to tell me that?”
He immediately looked flustered again, “No.”
“Okaaay.”
“I mean, yes, but not just that.”
His gaze stayed on yours a second longer than necessary, like he was still deciding whether to actually say it out loud or swallow it back down and pretend this moment never tried to happen, but then he exhaled, “I was wondering,” he said, slower now, more careful, “if you’d want to come with me to a jazz festival this weekend.”
That landed differently and your heart was definitely fluttering.
Not just a casual night out. A whole event. A crowd. Music bleeding through open air. Something alive and loud and full of people he didn’t quite seem built for, and yet, he was inviting you into it.
You blinked. “A festival?”
He nodded once. “Yeah. Downtown. It’s…a few days. Different sets, food trucks, all that.”
A pause flickered between you.
“It’s just music,” he added on, then immediately softened it. “I just thought you might like it. And I was given more than one ticket and I—” He stopped himself, rubbed the back of his neck like he could physically erase the awkwardness. “I’d like you there.”
There it was. Not polished. Not rehearsed. Just honest enough to sit in the air between you and raise the temperature even more.
You didn’t answer right away, and you could see him start to brace for impact. That subtle tightening in his shoulders. The way people did when they were preparing to recover from a “no.”
So you didn’t make him wait too long. “I like jazz,” you said.
His eyes flickered a glimmer of hope. “Yeah?”
“And I like food trucks,” you added.
That earned a quiet breath of relief from him, almost a laugh that didn’t fully form.
“Okay,” you said finally.
He blinked. “Okay?”
“I’ll go.”
The word hit him like it needed a second to fully translate in his brain. “You will?”
You nodded. “Festival. Jazz. Food I probably don’t need to spend money on but will anyway.”
He looked away briefly, like he was still processing the fact that you’d said yes. Then he spoke quieter, almost in disbelief, “Cool. Friday?”
“Friday works.”
“I’ll pick you up,” he said. This time, it didn’t sound like a question. It sounded like something he needed to do.
And when you nodded, he gave a small exhale, like he’d just stepped off a ledge and discovered the ground was still there.
Chan lingered for another second, the smile still pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“Dad!” Jia’s voice carried across the driveway.
He laughed. “Duty calls.”
𝜗𝜚
Friday was four days away, which shouldn’t have mattered.
Yet somehow, Chan became painfully aware of it every time he looked at a calendar.
Every time someone mentioned the weekend.
Every time his phone lit up.
It was ridiculous. He was turning twenty nine . Not sixteen.
And yet, by Tuesday, Hyunjin had accused him of smiling at an alternator. In which Chan denied smiling at it.
Hyunjin had to remind him that he's a terrible liar.
By Wednesday, Jia wanted to know why he kept checking his phone.
“I’m not checking my phone.”
“You just checked it.”
“That’s different. It lit up and I looked at it”
“How?”
Chan had no answer for that.
Thursday evening found Chan standing in his kitchen watching water on the stove as he was trying to decide whether he hated the blue button-down or merely disliked it. His grey v-neck was always an option, he thought to himself.
Then his phone rang.
Mom. The sight of her contact poster stirred suspicion in his gut.
“Hello?”
“Did you ask her?”
Chan closed his eyes. “There wasn’t even a hello.”
“I know who I raised.”
A sigh escaped him. “Hi, Mom.”
“Did you ask her?”
“You called specifically for this?”
“I bought those tickets specifically for this.”
Chan stared at the ceiling. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Did she say yes?”
The fact that she asked so quickly told him everything. His mother already knew the answer. She was simply enjoying herself.
As she waited for a response, a smile threatened to spread across his face despite his best efforts.
“Oh my God.”
“Mom.”
“She said yes?”
Chan rubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe.”
A gasp echoed through the phone. “Jack!” she yelled.
“Jessica!” Chan called into the phone.
A muffled voice responded somewhere in the background before he heard his mother clearly again.
“I told your father she said yes.”
“I have to go…..Jia needs me.”
“Aht aht! No you don’t.”
“Actually, I do.”
“Tell my grandbaby I said hello.” She laughed out. “Your neighbor too.”
— 스트레이 키즈 x reader .ᐟ.ᐟ fluff, red string, soulmate au :: 7000+ wdc (srry)
☆ ──꒰💌꒱ ❞ ‧₊˚ in which 𓂃 every soulmate has a red string that attaches to them that appears when within a certain distance from them that only you can see. when you finally grab tickets to your favorite concert and your string follows 8 different people, how do you react?
“where there clues i didn't see? and isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?” — invisible string by taylor swift ♬ ݁˖
other member ver: bangchan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | han pt.2 pt.2 alternate | felix | seungmin | jeongin | ot8
main master list here 𓏲𝄢
an: i had such a fun time writing this fic. im always sad to leave it behind :(( but i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. it took lots of procrastination and late nights lmao
fic below the cut . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
The bright flourishing lights of the stage that flicker as a reflection in your eyes and also into your camera lens, the lightstick flashing different colors on and off along with the fire that bursts out on crescendos and lasers that move up and down your face gave you shivers down your spine and goosebumps on your skin. The lights that will change the way you look at life and even how you enjoy music were something you never thought you would see. But here you are, with barrier seats, at the Stray Kids Dominate Tour.
Going to a Stray Kids concert was something you had assumed you’d have to give up on going to, with your luck and your location. You live in a place where most K-pop groups don’t tour, which is a pain when you’re trying to connect with other K-pop fans and go to events. Most of your friends who listen to K-pop are online, so you can’t go to concerts with them or go shopping for albums together. It’s not like your town is low in population, just in popularity, which makes it a hard destination for idols. People went crazy when BTS went to Oakland for their Speak Yourself tour in 2018, though you were grateful they chose a less popular spot near you. You and other online people in the same area keep protesting for companies to bring their idols to your city. Some complied and brought their groups, but you didn’t stan them and wanted to leave your tickets to more devoted fans or, sadly, resellers.
But after graduating from college, you had saved up enough money to afford concert tickets. The only thing you had asked for at birthdays was money. People had been happy to comply, though, friends and family who didn’t know you as well were more than willing to just hand you cash. You had picked up as many shifts as possible, even grabbing the attention of your friend who pointed out your dark circles. You almost slapped her. Genuinely. But you knew she meant well. She had brought you lemon squares the next day as an apology.
Thank God, you won the Ticketmaster war. After trying many different locations, desperate to get anything, even nosebleeds, you did it. You had gotten pit 3, row 1. Like you had been living a dream, you pinched yourself. You’d be right in the middle, grateful for Stray Kids to even look your way. You didn’t manifest it per se, but you definitely prayed every night and fell asleep to a Stray Kids playlist in your ear despite being woken up a couple times to God’s Menu or Side Effects. Being awoken at 1:43 in the morning the day before tickets went on sale definitely helped you build up your confidence about getting tickets. You had done the same for other artists such as BTS, seeing the words BTS around town which made you think, in your delusional state, that you’d get a barrier. You did, so you decided to use the same logic for Stray Kids, because you wanted these tickets more than anything. They have been your ultimate group since you started liking K-pop. They were your home, your forever 8.
Months of planning online, searching thousands of pins on Pinterest, videos on TikTok and Instagram, and shopping through many online stores and in malls, you found the outfit that made you most confident and went with the black and red theme, matching your new lightstick. You knew that going with this outfit, you’d be comfortable and stylish, ultimately leading to a perfect concert night. Last concert you went to, you bought boots that were notoriously known for blisters, so you had to learn the hard way and walk home barefoot in the Las Vegas heat with bandages all over your feet. You almost had a stranger carry you back to Mandalay Bay, but you decided against it, risking injury over embarrassment. This time, you were unstoppable. Everything about you screamed hottie, and you had taken millions of photos before the concert even started. You even took a video of yourself to remember when you look back at concert videos.
“Today is the day of the concert! I wanted to look as cute as possible, just in case I see my soulmate. Not to make everything about him, but why do I travel if there’s no hope in meeting him?” You said into your phone camera, doing a small spin to show off your outfit. “This is my fit, I even made my hair and makeup as cute as possible. I practiced it frequently to get the look right, and now I never want to take it off. My clear bag is covered in buttons of all the members, and honestly, it’ll probably be filled to the brim with freebies, and I will keep them all forever,” you laughed at yourself.
This concert, just like many of the other trips, you were hoping to see a red string somewhere in the crowd. It was your biggest dream, a soulmate who also loves K-pop, it was a guarantee that they liked Stray Kids. You could nerd out for hours about the group if you wanted to, so why not have a soulmate that will actually participate in the conversations you had and maybe buy you bubble accounts? It was perfect in theory, the idea of finding someone here to call yours, but the last few K-pop concerts you had gone to in the previous couple of years, you were out of luck—no red string to lead you to the one. LA was about 400 square miles, and you needed to be within 25 miles of your soulmate to see the string. Your soulmate might live in LA, but be in the wrong place at the wrong time and you’d miss them. But maybe, just maybe, since this was your first stray kids concert, you’d be able to find the one. If they were in the stadium, you’d know. You had grown up not being able to see one and gossiping with your friends about who you assumed it was.
Stray Kids’ next stop was in LA, and you decided to take a road trip to save money, because plane tickets were basically a luxury for people fresh out of college. You had a stable job, but it's best to save your money for merch or other items around town. You chose to buy the cheapest tickets for the hotel closest to Sofi Stadium. Not only would you save some cash, but you’d also not need to walk as far on your way home from the concert. You were looking forward to the hotel breakfast buffet the early morning after the concert, one of your favorite traditions. Eating the mildly cold scrambled eggs with the sizzling coffee along with other side dishes like bacon, fruits, potatoes, pancakes, and yogurt was the best part of the post-concert depression. You've got to splurge on food without having to pay money for groceries, it’s how you enjoyed your time traveling looking for your soulmate without spending so much money.
Arriving at your hotel room, you flopped your bag onto the floor next to your twin XL bed. It was small, but the sheets were clean and tucked in. You expected no less from a hotel room you paid the least amount of money for. But it looked so soft. Driving so many hours made you want to pass out. Your eyes burned, begging to close. But you wanted to enjoy every second of your trip before the concert. Day 1 of the Dominate Tour in LA was that night, so you expected a lot of traffic around town. You decided to Uber instead of wasting money on gas. You've got to explore a little, checking out some museums to do a little Namjooning, along with a 3-story Barnes and Noble in the Grove. Everywhere you went had been expecting Stray Kids fans to arrive, so there were deals upon deals for travelers who were here for the boys. You even checked out a K-pop store hoping they’d be participating too, so you decided to buy a variant of your favorite Stray Kids album to get yourself excited. It worked. Pulling a Changbin photocard you hadn’t had left you excited to add it to your ever-growing collection. By the time you were done exploring the vast city of LA and taking photos, it had become dinner time. Eating somewhere fast to provide energy and more time to get ready, you headed back to your hotel room. Playing the Dominate Tour Setlist, you put on everything you needed, packing up your concert bag with your necessities. You wanted tonight to be perfect.
Walking to the stadium a little bit later than you had wanted to because you had gotten distracted listening to music in the shower, you wanted to take some photos of the view you had. You decided you would collect freebies after the concert or sometime during intermission. Reaching for your bag without looking away from the stadium, you lifted your phone in front of your face to snap a picture, when you saw it. A red string tied to your ring finger. Holy. Shit. This was it. This is what you had been daydreaming about since you were little, and especially since you started listening to Stray Kids. Your eyes followed where the red string led. It pointed you towards the stadium, where you had suspected it would be. Someone, out of maybe 70,000 people, was the one who completed the other half of your heart. Someone you’d stay with forever even when times got tough. You had cried to your mother when you were younger about finding your soulmate, especially since she hadn’t found hers. Not many people did. You dreamed about it every night, you saw him in your dreams. He was always just out of reach. You saw him around corners, you felt him linger behind you, but when you went to talk to him, he would disappear. You couldn’t even see his face, it was blurry. Every morning you woke up disappointed, you had hoped the next day would be different. But it never was. It never was. It was never your choice to settle down. Your parents had been close to pressuring you to. You were getting older, you had graduated from college, you needed to date someone. But you never let up, you never could. You wanted to save all your firsts for him.
Walking to your seat, which was way closer to the stage than you thought, you got a really good look at everyone in the crowd. And then at your red string. You looked around. It didn’t seem like anyone was in the audience, or else they might’ve found you by now. The red string kind of disappeared after a good 5 feet, so you only saw the general direction of where the string was going. It wasn’t anyone inside the stadium, it was coming from past the curtains on the floor. God, you hoped it was a staff member who worked at SoFi stadium, or even for Stray Kids. You’d be able to have a soulmate and someone who could get you access to Stray Kids tickets and albums. You started imagining your life with this guy, even though you had never seen him before. Going to the park on a sunny day and sitting on the freshly watered grass under a tree, enjoying fruits and sandwiches packed for you by him, sleeping on your soft couch under a blanket snuggled up against him after watching a scary movie, and not risking moving away from his warmth, meeting his parents and his family and being immediately welcomed into their daily routine and rituals. You had worried, from the time you sat in your seat to the moment the lights started dimming, about how you would navigate the language difference if he did work for Stray Kids or the JYP company. You didn’t speak Korean, and you barely passed Spanish in high school. How would you communicate with the love of your life? You would take the time to learn the language, but in the meantime, you would not be able to understand anything he said. Maybe meeting his family would have to wait. You were already late to arrive at the concert, and you didn’t want to miss the beginning of the concert, as stupid as it sounds, to meet your soulmate. If they had any idea of the premise behind the red string, they’d wait after to meet you.
Since the lights dimmed, you decided to quiet your thoughts down by screaming for the members. The biggest moment in your life and the people that helped you during your lowest were here. The people around you had matched your energy, swinging their lightsticks and calling out for their biases. You however, had been ot8 since you discovered Stray Kids. You could never choose anyone specific. You would never judge anyone for having one, of course, you had biases in other groups. You just appreciated everything about each one, and their duality. They were all so talented, kind, and also funny in their own ways, you were happy to receive any photocard and freebie at this concert. Being ot8, you could enjoy every vlog and 2 kids room. No matter where the members were on stage, you could enjoy whoever was close to you. Which, unbeknownst to you, would fill up your storage 8 times as quick than if you just had one bias or a bias line. You also spent 8 times as much money on merch. You have a Skzoo bias, of course, but you wanted to fully represent your love for each member, so you bought each Skzoo when they dropped and tried collecting OT8 photocard sets. Your wallet, if it was a person, would’ve probably killed you by now. Sorry wallet.
Fans started doing a fanchant, so you chanted along, swinging your lightstick to each member’s name. The chant eventually stopped and you heard a chrechendo of screams coming from the crowd. Being a kpop fan, and a music fan in general, that meant that the artist was coming on stage. The noise in your ear was almost unbearable. You didn’t want to miss a single thing from this concert, even if that meant your throat hurt in the morning, your eyes burned, and your ears were most likely permanently damaged from the noise. You joined in on the fan shouting, waiting to see each member on the big screen. Screams varied for each member, but you screamed just as loud for each of them. You had seen countless videos and fancams of the Dominate Concert to prepare you for this moment, but it truly wasn’t enough. Adrenaline was rushing through your body, preventing you from feeling the pain of standing in your boots for 3 hours. The members were just as pumped as you were. Maybe because it was LA, and people in LA were always going to be more energetic, but they were patting each other on the back, shaking each other's shoulders, and jumping all around. Much more energy than any of the TikToks you had seen before.
Stray Kids ran throughout the stage as they sang the first song, Mountains, to the crowd. Singing along, you wanted to enjoy the moment you had right now. You’d film the members later when they came closer to you. Once the boys started to disperse throughout the stage, your stomach dropped. You had been having such a good time, the neon-lit arena and the swaying crowd filled with reds and blacks giving you a euphoric, out-of-body experience. Hyunjin, who had been scanning the crowd, searching for fans with wild energy, had landed his eyes on you. He gave you a silent nod and a wink before turning away. You almost passed out, but realized one simple thing. The reds you had seen in the crowd, one of them was your string, disappearing about 3 feet in front of Hyunjin, his end of the string disappearing about 3 feet in front of you. You had tuned out your red string so you could focus on the concert, not realizing it would become the focus of the concert. He quickly turned his head back to look at you again. Shit. He knows too. He stared at his string, at yours, and back at you. Shit. Shit. This cannot be happening. You are not soulmates with Hyunjin, you cannot be. Your breathing was in short, small bursts, leaving you dizzier than you already were. Lasers flashed over your face as they scanned throughout the crowd, temporarily blinding you from the sight in front of you. Your once electric energy, along with him standing right in front of you, had quickly diminished. Forget about the language barrier you were worried about with staff, how would you manage the difference in fame, in money, in attractiveness? He was attractive, one of the more conventionally attractive members, and you were basic. You were pretty, sure, but standing next to Hyunjin, what would his members think? Or his family? The fans? You’d be torn to shreds online if he revealed you.
Skipping away like he didn’t see anything, but a smile clear on his face, he ran over towards Bangchan, who was a little bit further away. Hyunjin tapped on his shoulder and leaned into his ear, whispering something to the leader. God. Now Chan probably knows. The amount of fancams this moment will have will be astronomical, you wonder how many people will try to lip read his words. Bangchan quickly whipped his head over to you, but looking back at the crowd in front of him did not seem suspicious. Word quickly spread around the members, you could tell. They were all smiling wildly. When they weren’t doing choreography, they had all come over one by one sneakily to take a not-so-obvious look at you, pretending to interact with fans and sing their designated parts.
You had basically burned up into ashes at that point, with the amount of blush and embarrassment present on your face. Though you didn’t stop screaming for them, shaking your lightstick along with the fans beside you. Why would you make it any more obvious what they were doing? If fans knew they had all been looking at you, you’d be dead. Dead, dead. Like, sending those trucks with screens on them to your house and funeral bouquets that they do to protest groups, idols, or companies. But, one strange thing had been happening each time that a different member had approached your section. Your red string had no longer been following Hyunjin around on stage, like you had assumed. It was then following whatever member was in front of you. Changbin had been next to travel over, and his string and yours were close and following each other. Then I.N, Seungmin, Felix, Han, Bangchan, and then Lee Know. Each respective member, you had seen a red string that connected theirs to yours. Now you were actually freaking out. Was your string broken, or were you?
Once intermission started, you booked it out of your seat and into the bathroom to hide. Hide from the members or staff, but mostly from embarrassment. There had been a short line, but once you made it into a stall, you had stayed in there for as long as people would let you before knocking on the door. Splashing your hands with the cold water and throwing some onto your waterproof makeup, you managed to remove the red hue from your face and look presentable again. Stepping outside, the line had died down and you believed to be in the clear. Until a tap came from behind you.
“Excuse me?”
Turning around, you noticed a person dressed in all black with slacks and a button-up. “Yes?”
“I’m with JYP, they requested that you come with me,” he said in English with an accent that was barely noticeable.
You froze. That was probably the last thing you wanted to do. “I.. no,” you spat out, ruder than you wanted to.
“No?” He clarified, his eyebrows raising in surprise at your response.
“…Find me later. Or.. never’s fine too,” you said, holding your clear bag like it was the only thing keeping you from being buried 6 feet under. You immediately walked away, stiffer than you had ever been. He called for you, but you didn’t respond. Your knees were locked, your arms were tied in place, and your breathing was erratic. Any attempt to remove the red on your face had failed, it was all coming back. You couldn’t imagine how you looked to everyone else, like a sunburnt robot. God, you had never been more embarrassed, and you couldn’t stop enunciating that to yourself.
Once you got back to your seat, the girl who sat next to you noticed your ice-like behavior.
“Are you okay?” She asked, mustard-covered soft pretzel in hand that she probably got from a stand outside.
You didn’t respond, but you slowly nodded your head up and down. She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the stage. Looking at said stage, you took a deep breath in and took off the member badges on your strap, placing them deep into your bag.
The concert went by quickly. The members, no matter how desperate they were to keep looking at you, almost entirely ignored that section to allow you some boundaries. They had heard from the staff that you didn’t want to meet them, so they wanted to make you feel comfortable. When they did come over to see fans next to you, they tried their best to avoid eye contact as much as possible. But the few times you both had accidentally, your face had become just as red. Why can’t you stop being like this? You were being weird in front of your soulmate.. or.. soulmates. Well, that's weird to say. But what else? You have confirmed to yourself that you had 8 soulmates. All 8 of them? Mega famous, mega rich kpop idols. Girls had pined over them for years, but you. You were their soulmate. The pit in your stomach had never gone away, even during your favorite songs and choreos. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, your first encounter with Hyunjin, them all coming over to you, and what the future would be like. The probability of this working out was low. How were you supposed to survive being the only woman in a relationship with 8 men who were already best friends? You hadn’t heard anything about people having that many soulmates. You had heard stories on the news about people having 2 soulmates, and one very rare case about someone having 3. But 8 men, and they all knew each other already? You could not wait to be the talk of the town. A joke. The next news article on dispatch and the hottest gossip on those “latest K-pop updates” videos with fancams of WonYoung in the background.
Once the members had said their goodbyes, giving you one last look before stepping off stage, the stage lights dimmed and the main lights came on, you took a sigh in and out. The concert you had once been so excited for, one that you knew you were going to get post-concert depression with, had ended, and you weren’t even feeling the emotions you thought you would feel. But now, you were shaking in what you couldn’t tell was fear of the future, or fear of what you had just experienced. Following the crowd outside the stadium, you were approached by a different staff member. It was a woman this time, but dressed in the same all-black outfit. Stopping you in your tracks to make sure your attention was on her, she reached for her pocket and pulled out a card. A business card.
“What was your name?” She asked.
“I… um… y/n y/l/n.”
Handing it to you, not saying anything, she nodded and turned away, back towards the stadium. Not looking at the card in fear someone might take it, though something inside of you wanted to rip it up anyway, you swiftly put it in your pocket. You did not want any other fans to notice the interaction that had occurred between you too, but it was dark enough and people were very tired from dancing and screaming all night to really notice. You lazily walked back to your hotel nearby, hyper aware of what you had on you like it was contraband. You kept the bag you had in front of you, just in case someone might pickpocket you, if that’s something that Stays would even do. Not before long, you had to take your boots off and walk back to your room barefoot, the pressure of what had happened tonight weighing you down, making your eyes droopy. You basically flopped right into bed when you unlocked the door with your keycard, throwing the belongings in your hands onto the floor as you snuggled under the blankets.
The sun had shown harshly through the windows facing east, shining directly onto your face. The curtains you had forgotten to close when you left the room for the concert were bunched together on one side. Getting up to clean up from last night, washing your makeup off and changing into presentable clothes after taking a shower, you had just over an hour to think about the night before. You wished the only thing you would think about was the concert itself. Seeing the members, singing the songs, and getting freebies, is normal concert behavior. But what actually happened that night was the only thing you’d remember that concert by. You hadn’t looked at your bag since you’d awoken, though, knowing you’d just get another pit in your stomach, larger than if you just thought about it.
In your travel bag, you packed some chia seed pudding inside a lunchbox and placed it in the fridge when you first arrived. Remembering this, you grabbed the pudding along with a small 13 dollar sparkling wine that was in there as well. You deserved it anyway. You still had a day or two in LA before you had to drive home, and you wanted to explore the city a little bit more. Taking a small sip of the drink and absolutely devouring your pudding because of your lack of food from the night before, you knew you wouldn’t be able to enjoy the rest of your trip unless you settled the problem you had. You were sure Stray Kids wouldn’t feel this insane about the situation, but you didn’t want to leave wondering what would’ve happened if you called.
Grabbing your concert bag from the night before, digging through the freebies you got and rifling through your hygiene care items, you found the card crumbled at the bottom. Unfolding it, some of the phone numbers were gone, being crumpled and destroyed as the paper fell off the cardstock. Shit! How could you have been so stupid? There was one number missing, but now you had to call 10 numbers just to make sure you had the right one. What tired you had done the night before, awake and slightly sober you had to deal with. You left all of your stuff on the table you were sitting at in your hotel room, and you went out onto the balcony to decompress and breathe in the fresh air. LA had a beautiful landscape, something you had only seen in photos before. It was not like New York, it had its own style. It was a very pop-culture and creatively filled urban grit metropolitan city. You chuckled to yourself at all the descriptive words you used to describe this city that was probably like any other. But you couldn’t say that. You knew LA was special, it was the city where you met your soulmate. A place you’d mark on a map and in your heart forever.
Finally picking up your cell phone to sit on the desk chair inside, you dialed the number on the card, typing a 0 where the missing number was. Nobody picked up. You groaned loudly, marking a cross on the first line of the notepad you had nearby to mark off what numbers you had called first. What if that was the number you needed but they missed a call? You decided to keep going through each number and hoped they’d call back or you’d call back later. You dialed the number with a 1. No answer. How many people weren’t going to pick up their phone? It made your search a lot harder. You dialed the number with a 2. This time, there was an answer.
“Hello?” The lady on the other end asked. She had a broad accent from somewhere you couldn’t place, but it was probably somewhere south.
“Hello.. I’m y/n y/l/n,” you responded.
“That’s great for you. Are ya tryna sell me somethin’? If so, ‘m not interested. Bye.” And just like that, she hung up. Great.
One things for sure, that definitely wasn’t Stray Kids or their manager. You decided to keep going down the list. Lots of people didn’t answer their phones nowadays, so that made the process a lot faster. Once you were done going through the list, if none of them was someone who worked for JYP, you’d go back down again, calling the numbers who didn’t pick up. Every time you typed in the full number, you hesitated pressing the call button. You had never been so scared of making a phone call before, even though you knew you had anxiety when it came to interactions over the telephone. You knew the call, if successful, would probably change your life. In so many ways. Thinking a little selfishly, you could finally get a stable job but not have to worry about when your next paycheck was going to be. You had spent so long saving up for these tickets, but you didn’t have to save up anymore. You had suddenly become hopeful for the future. Finally, after calling 5 numbers, you dialed one last time before someone on the other side picked up.
“Yeoboseyo?” A man had asked.
“Hi! I’m.. um.. y/n y/l/n,” you said, a little more nervous now that you knew it was the right person.
“One second,” he stated in a Korean accent, putting you on hold. The man had clearly left his seat. You could hear him get up and someone else sit in his chair.
“Hello, y/n y/l/n. I work with the entertainment company JYP. We understand that your soulmate string has connected with members of one of our boy groups and they wish to meet up with you. To ensure safety, we will provide the details in a text message and that you will delete the messages after. An NDA will be signed once you arrive. Thank you for your cooperation,” the man said. He had a deeper voice but a clearer English accent. He hung up after.
You dropped the phone onto the bed next to you. This was real. This was happening. All because of a stupid soulmate thing and your decision to ‘live life’ and go to a concert you could barely afford, your soulmate strings connected and you found your soulmate.
Almost immediately, you received a message from the same number with more information.
“To y/n y/l/n, we wish to respect the members’ privacy and safety as well as your own. To keep this from going public with the intent to hurt or damage the members’ or their public image, we will arrive at your hotel at 9:00 AM in a black 2021 Honda CRV with the license plate number 06BRJ72 on both the front and the back of the vehicle. It will have tinted windows and be ready at the back entrance. The members will be waiting at the location drop off, thank you.”
This was serious. You knew K-pop companies did their best to keep scandals and dating rumors at bay, but you didn’t know how serious it actually was now that you were directly involved with a group. You had a couple hours to get ready. You had already showered and your curls were still in place from last night, so you only needed to apply makeup and probably change your outfit. You had planned to wear this outfit with the intent of nobody seeing you or caring about what you looked like. You didn’t really have any other clothes, so you walked down to the lobby where some clothing shops were nearby. You didn’t want to waste loads of time picking out clothes you might not like, so you chose items that you knew would look good on you before trying them on. You purposefully picked items in colors that complemented your eyes and evened out your skin tone, while also giving you a little more confidence than what you had worn before. You decided on a look you had never really experimented with before, a little modern chic. The style was more expensive than you could normally spend up to, but you wanted to splurge a little bit more on this occasion. You bought some new earrings that you knew would turn green if you wore them too long (but you’d only be wearing them once, honestly) and a dainty necklace that went with the neckline of your shirt. The bag you had decided to bring matched the outfit, and your boots from the concert matched as well anyways. You actually had to look up the style meant, so maybe when you had some more money, you could start dressing like that. It fit your body type so well, and it made you feel so rich and lavish.
Arriving back at your hotel room, you took the time to look as pretty as possible, while also looking like you weren’t trying too hard. You didn’t know about the occasion, so you were unsure if you should have bought a dress or worn something more casual. You decided not to overthink it too hard, they were your soulmates afterall. If they didn't like you in an outfit you felt confident in, they didn’t deserve you at all. That’s what you thought if you knew they weren’t your favorite idols. You were too easy, you’d wear a trash bag every day if they asked you to. But you try to have a little more dignity than that. You were an adult, too. You had a job, you had an apartment, you had a cat, why would you not also be a respectable person in society, even if your favorite boy group was suddenly revealed to be your soulmate?
The clock had turned 9 before you even realized it. You spent so long thinking about where the afternoon would go, deciding not to listen to stray kids while you got ready, but music that made you confident instead. You headed down to where you presumed the back entrance was and entered a vehicle of the same description. There was a masked man in the front seat, who was silent while he drove you there, only giving you a nod when you came in and a nod when you arrived at your destination. It was The Little Door, a small, high-end restaurant that you knew allowed for private dining. You had never been expensive enough to eat there, but you passed by it enough on your walk to work that you could do a little more research on it. Walking inside, you could see it was dimly lit and very intimate, perfect for private meetings. It was almost like an enchanted garden oasis, with lush greenery, cascading lights, dim cozy nooks, and antique chandeliers. You knew the room that the members had rented out was probably fancier and more intimate than this, which made you a little nervous for your arrival. Being escorted into a separate room by another employee of JYP, they were huddled on one end of a long table, with the same decorations from the public area in this private lounge as well. They all stood up immediately, slightly bumping into each other as they stood there.
“Hi! Please, sit wherever you want. We’re glad you arrived. We were nervous you’d bail,” Bangchan had said, gesturing to any spot.
“I almost did, honestly,” you admitted, placing your bag on the seat back and sitting down in a seat equidistant from each member. “I want to apologize for running away so suddenly when I was asked to meet you guys during the concert.”
The members all shook their heads in disagreement.
“You don’t have to apologize. We understand your worry. When we found out we were all soulmates, it was a hard adjustment. Even for JYP as a company,” Bangchan said.
“Wait, you’re all soulmates, too?”
They nodded.
“But if I’m soulmates with all of you and all of you, each other, why were there not 8 strings?”
“Because it points to whoever is closest to you. Hyunjin was right in front of you, so you pointed to him. I’m closest to you right now, so yours is pointing to me. It makes it impossible to know how many soulmates you have. Which is kind of the whole point of the mystery,” Felix said, pursing his lips together into a tight line. “We were quite nervous to see you in the audience. We saw our red string light up again when you most likely arrived at the stadium.”
“The string disappears after you meet your soulmate,” Hyunjin elaborated. “Once you meet yours, it goes away. You know you have another one when the string shows back up. When I first joined JYP and met Changbin, and later Han, Bangchan, and the rest of Stray Kids, each lighting up again as I met each member.”
“Wow.” You were still trying to process what you had heard. “I don’t really know what to say. How do you guys handle daily life with that many soulmates?”
“It’s easier than you think. We’re just like.. friends anyway, so it’s just a bonus we get to cuddle and kiss sometimes,” Han said, shrugging his shoulders. “We would’ve lived together anyway as a boy group, soulmates or not, it’s just something that most people can’t experience.”
“It actually brings us closer as a group, and it helps us stay as a group together longer. It solves a lot of fights knowing the universe not only put us in a group together, but also made us soulmates,” Seungmin said.
“And you guys won’t feel uncomfortable now that I’m added into the equation?”
“Added into the equation? You’ve been a part of the equation the whole time! We always knew that something was missing, a small piece of the equation, but here you are.” Changbin reassured, with a bright smile on his face.
You took a deep sigh of relief. “I swear I’ll bring a lot to the table.”
The members laughed.
“Do you.. want to keep me a secret?” You asked, after a short, comfortable silence.
“A secret? Why?” Lee Know asked.
“They made me sign an NDA when I got inside and I rode here in a black car. They texted me the information about the meetup and made me delete the message afterwards,” you admitted.
“No! That’s just for our safety as an idol. If we could, we would never keep it a secret. We wished we could tell everyone we as a group were soulmates. It’s just for our physical safety as human beings. We swear we love you to the moon and back. We always will,” Bangchan said.
“That’s relieving, but I’m sorry you have to keep your love for each other such a big secret. I guess it is pretty taboo, especially for idols,” you shrugged.
“It is, but we swear we will appreciate you every day as a human and as our girl,” I.N promised, making the members nod their heads in agreement.
“What are you doing after this? Maybe we can show you around backstage and our hotel rooms. We could hang out a little before our concert starts,” Lee Know asked.
You thought for a second before replying. “I was going to get some of the food from the breakfast buffet before exploring town a little bit. But obviously that could wait.”
“Don’t be silly, we’ll come with you,” Hyunjin insisted.
As you all rode back to your hotel, the members had to cover up their faces and ask to rent out the buffet. You didn’t realize how much privilege they had as idols to rent out rooms like that, but it made you realize it was for the safety of the idols. After grabbing a plate or two.. or three, you headed back to where the boys were seated.
They stared at the amount of food you had grabbed. Not in a judgmental way, but in shock that you could be hungry enough for that.
“…the breakfast buffet is my favorite part of a hotel,” you said, shyly.
“Of course, we know the breakfast here is good. We had it yesterday morning,” Han said, eating some lightly salted eggs.
“Wait. Are you staying in the same hotel as me? How did the string not show up?” You asked.
“Based on what you told us about your trip so far in the car and our activities throughout the day, I don’t think we were ever close enough for our strings to reveal themselves,” Changbin guessed.
“You checked in in the morning, we checked in the night before. We had already been across town practicing and filming vlogs, and you were on the other side of town exploring. Then when we came back to the hotel room to chill and get ready, you were out eating dinner. We then left for the stadium, you were getting ready in the room,” Seungmin said.
Wow. He had done all of that in his head. You chuckled at his knowledge and took a bite of some toast and jam, along with a couple of pieces of fruit, a comfortable silence filling the dining area.
“We’re glad we met you, y/n, even if it was a little bit later,” Lee Know whispered beside you, giving you a small smile. I.N, who was on the other side of you, gave you a little nudge and a smile. Stuffing scrambled eggs into your mouth, more gracefully than you had imagined yourself to be, and seeing Felix do the same thing, you realized, they were your home, your forever 8.
your new roommate has the body of a literal greek god and the heart of a gentleman. you never expected to want him in more ways than one, but a sudden incident sparks a craving you can't ignore — and a little 'extracurricular practice' lands you straight onto his cock.
#002 — he in my tummy, bye bye to my ribs
watching your best friend get bigger and bigger was a test of patience you were already losing. who knew a little praise slipping from his mouth would be the exact thing to break you, leaving you whimpering under him ?
𑣲 minho .ᐟ
#001 — rockstar
his voice on stage is pure sin, but you’re the only one he wants to ruin tonight. the second he steps into the dark, that heavy focus shifts, making you completely helpless under him.
#002 — the pleasure is all ours ft. jisung
confessing your feelings to your best friend is hard enough. but confessing to two — especially when they’re already in a relationship together ? it feels impossible. except, it isn't. because they want you right between them just as much as you want them — and the pleasure is all theirs.
#003 — zero eight zero one
having minho in the flat right beside yours means there's nowhere to hide from the tension. a single wall is the only thing keeping you apart, and it’s only a matter of time before that thin line completely disappears.
chapter 1: a loafer full of fur
chapter 2: a crumble in the shared wall
chapter 3: a splash on the composure
chapter 4: a dent in the pillows
chapter 5: a tremor in the proximity
chapter 6: a breach through the lace
chapter 7: a sizzle in the resolve
chapter 8: a graze of the lips
bonus: smau
#004 — knuckle in — i meant, buckle in
being a brat was fun until minho decided to teach you a lesson. now, there is no running and no backing out — all you can do is buckle in and find yourself completely at his mercy.
𑣲 changbin .ᐟ
#001 — jackhammered
he overheard every single word you said to your friend, and now there’s no taking it back. he’s ready to make you live through it —no slowing down, no breathing room, just him taking exactly what he wants while you beg for a single breath.
𑣲 hyunjin .ᐟ
#001 — buckle up, buttercup
it started with a simple invitation for a late-night drive, but the second your boyfriend pulls over, the tension completely shifts. he looks at you with that slow, dangerous smirk — knowing you have absolutely no idea what you just stepped into.
#002 — gimme gimme more
continents apart, and he still manages to completely ruin you. with nothing but his text commands guiding your hands, he slowly pushes you over the edge — leaving you breathless, undone, and completely at the mercy of his words.
𑣲 han .ᐟ
#001 — lollipop ?
a single look from him is enough to make you completely forget what you were saying. you think you're the one playing games, but he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to taste exactly how sweet you can be.
#002 — the pleasure is all ours ft. minho
confessing your feelings to your best friend is hard enough. but confessing to two — especially when they’re already in a relationship together ? it feels impossible. except, it isn't. because they want you right between them just as much as you want them — and the pleasure is all theirs.
#003 — thick thighs save lives (pt.1)
the quiet yearning and academic rivalry were easy to maintain — until the lines between the classroom and the screen completely blurred. the secret you've been hiding behind a camera is about to collide head-on with the boy sitting next to you in the library. will he finally connect the dots and turn his wildest, late-night support into a shameless reality ?
#004 — can your thighs and my face have a meet-cute ? (pt.2)
the moment the masks come off, there is no going back to just being top-of-the-class rivals. discovering that the boy you’ve been pining for in real life is the same one worshiping you behind a screen changes everything. the hesitation is completely gone, and he’s ready to trade the quiet library stares for something incredibly enticing, proving exactly how loud things can get when your worlds finally collide.
𑣲 felix .ᐟ
coming soon
𑣲 seungmin .ᐟ
#001 — 'cause this type of love's the epitome
academic rivalry doesn't mean a thing when the library door clicks locked. between the quiet stacks, the strict self-control he’s famous for completely vanishes. your books are slammed shut, his hands are on your waist, and the only thing left to do is stifle your breaths against his skin before you get caught.
𑣲 jeongin .ᐟ
#001 — i let him taste it, now he diabetic
best friends aren't supposed to ask questions that make your breath hitch. but the second you admit, the boundaries shatter. he doesn't hesitate, dropping to his knees to show you exactly what you've been missing — and discovering a sweetness he never plans on giving up.
summary: What happens when you call your best friend a good boy?
warnings: p0rn with very little plot, pet names, outdoor s3x, praise, established relationship, friends to lovers, size difference, overstimulation
“Oh, you are so a golden retriever boyfriend, Channie!” You grabbed your phone and in a flash started to scroll and search for the definition. It was summer and that meant BBQ’s and beers at Chan’s place. The sun was high in the sky and the two of you were on your fourth or fifth beer. “A-ha! Here it is!” You turned your phone screen to Chan so he could read the perfectly executed Urban Dictionary definition. His eyes squinted a bit as he read, mouthing the words “loyal” and “easy-going” and “sunshine”. His lips slowly curled up into a smile as his eyes flicked up to meet yours.
“You really think that about me?” He asked softly, his eyes still locked onto you.
“Of course I do!” You beamed, smiling so wide your cheeks made your eyes almost disappear. Chan was fiercely loyal, that was the truest part of the definition, almost to a fault. For the better part of a year he had been in a more than toxic relationship. Every fight, every argument, every misunderstanding he had with her, you tried your best to be the supportive friend even though it was killing you inside. You were happy that the relationship had ended and you knew your best friend was better off but there was a part of you that sensed Channie needed a reminder of just how great he really was.
You leaned forward in your chair so your face was even closer to Chan’s. “I could just pat your head and tell you what a good boy you are!” You giggled softly and patted the top of his head one, two, three times. “Good boy.” You said gently. Not in a teasing tone or as a way to mock him. The words were just stated as fact. Those two words shot through Chan’s chest like a bullet. Bursting through his ribcage clear to the other side. He froze in place for a moment unsure of what this feeling was. He had been praised before, sure. He had been told he was “doing great” by girls while he was inside of them. Slamming away, in and out and in again. Hitting those soft, spongy spots that made their eyes roll back and their tongue loll out of their mouth. He had been told how big he was. “So big!” Was a regular phrase that he never got tired of. His cock stretching and making room inside a tight, wet cunt was a feeling he was used to, a feeling he loved.
But this feeling was new. It was feral, gnawing, needy, aching. You were someone that saw him, really saw him, for everything he was. His accomplishments, his flaws, his ups and his downs. You had been there for all of it and still saw the best in him. He wanted to be good for you. That's what this feeling was. He wanted to hear those words again and again and again while he made you feel the most intense pleasure of your life.
The next few minutes moved like sand through an hourglass. Chan stared at your lips still wet with beer from your most recent sip. He leaned in slowly, lingering in the moment to see what your reaction would be. Would you pull away? Would you be upset with him for evening attempting such a bold move? Kissing his best friend, this could change everything between the two of you. Chan leaned in closer still, his eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes then back to your lips again. He wanted to taste you so badly. He needed to show you just what a good boy he could be. Your breath caught in your chest as Chan’s button lips lightly brushed against yours. His nose angled against your top lip right in that spot underneath your nose. Cupid’s bow. That’s the word that flashed in your mind as you closed your eyes and started to part your lips for him. He smelled like beer and sunscreen. Like summer and sunshine incarnate.
“Chan…” You moaned into his mouth barely above a whisper.
Chan growled back in response, He snaked his hand through your hair until it rested on the back of your neck. He pulled you in hard, deepening the kiss. Your body responded in an instant. Without hesitation you pulled at his tank top to bring him closer to you. A wordless promise that you were ready for anything he had in store for you.
Chan gripped your thighs hard and wrapped them around his waist while simultaneously picking you up and sitting you down on the edge of the patio table. The metal from the old table legs squeaked and creaked softly as you and Chan moved as one. He reached his arms up and slightly back to pull his tank top up and over his head. His biceps flexed and pulsed with the intense muscle that lay underneath. He groaned in frustration at the sight of your jean shorts. While earlier today he was admiring how perfectly they sculpted around your ass, now they were just too tight and too in the way of where he so desperately needed to be.. He pulled at the buttons clumsily and ripped at the zipper so harshly that it completely broke.
“Channie!” You squealed. You weren’t really mad. In all truth you found it incredibly sexy. You had never had someone want you so badly that they were willingly to tear off your clothes.
Chan gave you a slight smirk and simply said, “I’ll buy you new ones.”
Next thing torn to pieces was your panties followed by the same weak objection from you and the promise made from him.
You lived in a quiet, suburban neighborhood. You rented but you loved your quaint little home. One thing you never gave much concern to was your neighbors. You would have backyard barbeques with your friends almost every weekend and while you weren’t particularly “wild” you didn't let the potential of uppity neighbors stop your fun. Besides, your neighbors would party sometimes too. You’d hear loud music or shouting and shrug it off. Who cares? No, you never really considered the people living around you. That was until your best friend started to slide his hard cock inside you. When Chan’s cock was starting to stretch you, slowly inching its way deeper and deeper, then you considered who might be around. Because now, in this moment, you had to moan, you had to scream, you had to shout something. It was all just so good. It was all just so much. He was just SO. GODDAMN. BIG.
“Ch-Channie..” You murmured. “C-cover my m-mouth. I’m gonna scream..”
Chan looked up from where his cock was moving, almost at the base now. He tried hard not to move his hips too much so you could adjust to his size. You were just so tight it was driving him crazy. He nodded and gently covered your mouth with his large hand. Your eyes rolled back as he bottomed out inside of you. You let out a long, muffled moan, gripping hard at his forearms. You wiggled your hips wildly, signalling him to start moving his as well. Then you mumbled something into his hand right before he pulled it away.
“What?” He grunted, his eyes focused again on your perfectly wet cunt wrapped around him.
“I said, Good Boy.” You panted through a smile.
Chan’s pupils widened and his eyelids lowered. His hands found their way to your hips as he gripped hard until the tender sensitive flesh felt like it may bruise. You arched your back from the sensation of pleasure and pain. Chan snapped his hip and began to thrust into you at a feral and unforgiving pace. One of his hands left your hip and trailed slowly down your stomach until his thumb resting on your swollen clit. He rubbed easy concentric circles on the sensitive nub making your pussy squeeze and grip around his cock. Every time you clenched around him he groaned and growled in approval. Little words were used now, just guttural sounds of pleasure and need for release. Only one phrase remained now.
“Say it again.” Chan moaned. His feral cries were mixing with a begging plea that sounded so delicious you felt like you could cry.
Synopsis: After finding you alone and hurt, physically and emotionally, Chris helps you get on your feet before sending you on your way. What he did not expect was to miss you, someone he only had in his cabin for less than a week. Once he started to shove thoughts of you out of his mind, you show back up even more in need of his help.
Word Count: 20.7k (I am so sorry, not really but at least I said it)
Genre: Slow burn. Porn with plot ABO!SKZ AU. Alpha!Chris and Healer!Felix are the two that Reader interact with most but it is implied all Kids are wolves and in the pack. TouchStarved!Chris. Hurt. Comfort. Smut (21+ warnings below cut). Morally Gray Chris, he is just so down bad. Fated mates with mate marks.
Warnings: This will have mentions of emotional and mental abuse, female anatomy, severe weight loss, accidental sexual assault (they both were asleep, one woke up and the other was still asleep), emotional dysregulation with pain (not self harm), blood, and injury. Italics are memories.
A/N: It’s here! Oh man, this was a journey. I hope those who waited for it enjoy it! I had a blast writing it. Yes, the title is based off of the new Dayseeker album.
Divider credit.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 21+ ONLY BECAUSE THIS IS NASTY STUFF - Only you can control your media consumption - This is a work of fiction, nothing is true. I am delulu as a solulu to this world.
Smut warnings: Kissing. Biting. Dry humping. Hands on neck (front and back) for control. Reader has a wet pussy. Nipple and breast play. BigDick!Chris. Scratching. Oral sex (male and female receiving). Cum eating. Fingering. Squirting. Unprotected sex. Christopher kink. Multiple orgasms. Primal play. Breeding king. Possessive!Chris. Dacryphilia. Knotting.
Chris Bahng has been in the woods for most of his adult life. There is a cabin on the far north end of the Horizon Forest that he calls home. Not many people make it so far North and that is how he likes it. The seclusion. It’s what he chose.
What he deserves.
Until you stumbled upon his land during the last few weeks of spring, with the scent of fear and sorrow seeping from you. Strong enough that he smelled you before he heard you trip and fall. Your whimper was the last thing he heard, his hearing elevated due to his nature.
His wolf instantly alerts at the sound, wanting to seek you out. Minutes pass and no sound or movement comes from the south, where he last heard you. His wolf is restless under his skin, making him pace the length of his front room.
Sighing heavily, he slips into his boots and heads off to find you. Following your heart beat, he quickly makes his way so he can see you. He stops when he comes up to your body, careful not to make a sound in case you were armed. It wouldn’t hurt him but he didn’t want to deal with explaining why.
You’re curled on the ground, a pack at your side and your hands curled tightly to your chest inside of the heavy black coat. Your eyes are closed and your heart beat is steady. You passed out. As he gets closer, he sees your face is cut like you ran through the low branches surrounding his property.
He smells the heartbreak on you as he takes in the tear streaked face. Someone hurt you and he feels his wolf snarl at the thought.
This is bad.
He circles you slowly, checking for weapons before he shoulders your pack and lifts you into his arms with ease. You do not stir, not even when Chris adjusts you so your head can rest on his shoulder as he starts the slow trek back to his cabin in the dark.
You slipped in and out of consciousness for the first few days. He learned your name and a few other things about you. After you regained some strength, he asked you why you were in the middle of the woods. Your answer shocked him and he had to force himself to remain calm and in the glider across the bedroom as his wolf wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and protect you.
It was a couple minutes before you spoke but the sorrow that flowed off of you made him clench his jaw and curl his fingers into fists.
“My fiancé was going hiking with some of his work friends, his high school sweetheart included. He knew how she made me feel but he always said there was nothing to worry about.” Your hands shake in your lap, having nothing to do with the chill of the season making the leaves surrounding the cabin change color.
“I’m not athletic, like they are so any chance they got they would tease me about holding them up or saying that I should consider staying behind. I guess I tripped one too many times and the last time, he decided to leave me to continue the hike claiming he was going to set the tents up.” Your eyes fill with tears and your bottom lip wobbles so hard you pull it between your teeth and take a couple of deep, shaky breaths.
“When I questioned him about leaving me, he just said that he told me not to come. That I wasn’t cut out for that type of activity.” You scoff as you remember how his high school sweetheart smirked behind him before smiling when he stood and turned around. “He said to rest and meet them at the site when I cooled down and my jealousy was gone. Then he just left me.”
Taking a deep breath with a shrug, you look up into beautiful amber eyes. “I got lost on my way back to the ranger station and then just kept getting turned around. I remember I fell over a log and then I woke up a couple days ago here.”
Chris was still the entire time you told your story and when you finished, silent tears rolling down your cheeks, he lost to his wolf. He was up and sitting on the edge of his bed, his hand gently cupping your face. His wolf yips with joy at finally getting to touch you, even if you smell like sorrow and humiliation. “What he did was wrong.”
At this, the dam breaks and your sobs rattle your frame. You go to cover your face but Chris pulls you to him, wrapping his arms around you, hoping that if he held you tight enough, he could keep your heart from shattering. His hand rubbed soothing circles on the small of your back as his other hand cupped the back of your neck to support your head as you cried into his chest.
Eventually, you cried yourself out and fell asleep against him. The warm scent of cedar and musk surrounding you more than his flannel sheets did. With your body limp in his arms, Chris gently lays back on the bed with you, wanting you to keep you close, vowing so long as you’re at his cabin, he won’t leave you scared and vulnerable like your human.
This might have been your favorite part of the Forests.
In the middle of fall, all the leaves have fully abandoned their green in favor of red, yellows, orange, and brown. Horizon is thick and lush with plant and wild life, the days are filled with the ambiance of birds and other little animals scurrying across the first floor.
After the sun goes down, while there are plenty of trees surrounding this spot, the moon and her stars are unfiltered. It was something Chris said he did on purpose when having the house built. He specifically used the trees in the area for it and made sure there were enough taken down to leave a nice, wide opening for the sun and the moon.
There are no lights outside unless you bring one so that means no light pollution. Absolutely nothing to ruin your view of the trillions of stars, their constellations, and the waning moon. This is your second favorite part.
After he found you, you returned home for a total of two weeks before you were packing a bag. Leaving your ring on the coffee table of the apartment you shared with your fiance. You left with no real idea of where you were going but you found yourself at Horizon Forest. You got out of your car, not really sure where his house was but you decided to give yourself an hour to find familiar territory before turning back and going to the next town.
It’s like you were called back. With only minutes to spare, there he was, at the edge of his property.
You look up from the map you have in your hand to see Chris just standing there, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you. You stop, rooted in place. Your face is flushed from the walk but it deepens upon seeing him again. You had no real plan, no idea what you were doing.
All you knew was you wanted to be near him.
Chris felt you before he saw you. The pull has been getting stronger, the closer to the full moon. He goes out to the edge of his property and waits. It’s almost an hour before he sees you, a small smile comes to his lips but he wipes it from his face by the time you look up.
White hot rage replaces his happiness to see you.
You’re pale, almost sickly so. He remembers the shape and curve of your body having held you in his arms while you cried thinking you were too thin for your stature then. But now? Now you’re so frail, barely holding yourself up. The little shine and bounce that your hair had two months ago is gone. Your eyes are dull and bloodshot.
What happened to you in those two months? How can he help you? Did you come for help?
“You came back.” His voice is rough but quiet in the space between you.
“I don’t know why but this cabin, with you, is more home than anything I have ever felt.”
Without a word, he crosses the space and stops in front of you. His eyes are still the stunning amber yellow color you remember, a softness to them. His face is tired but you see no other emotion on it until he reaches out and grabs your bag.
With your bag on his shoulder, he nods his head in the direction of his cabin. “Welcome home.”
Now, three and a half months later, you’re tucked under a thick woven blanket that you made as you sit on the front porch with your tea. Chris takes nightly runs through the forest, saying the cool evening air helps to calm his mind after his day.
Tonight, you see him jogging up the path with something in his hand. When he gets to the foot of the steps, that is when you realize what it is, a single sunflower between his fingers.
“My favorite flower.” You whisper as he hands it to you, a soft flush on his cheeks.
“I know.” He nods into the cabin. “They’re all over your laptop.”
You stand, realizing once again how large he is. You come up to his shoulder but he is so broad he actually hides you from view when people come to visit.
Chris leans down and picks up the blanket that slipped from your lap and takes the empty mug of tea from you. He nods to the front door before following you inside.
The fireplace is still warm from when he built it for you to bake and cook dinner on it. The smell of lamb, rosemary, and potatoes is still heavy in the air. You hear his stomach growl from behind you as he leaves the door open, the storm door closes to let some of the heat escape. Neither of you sleep well in the heat and Chris is a furnace on his own.
You started sharing a bed, platonically, only a few weeks ago. While you don’t like to sleep hot, the cabin gets very cold at night. Too cold for your human body to handle. Chris thrives in the cold and always sleeps more soundly the colder the cabin gets.
Except when he heard your teeth chattering. That woke him up from his sleep instantly and within seconds he was back in his room, laying down over the blankets and pulling you close. You stammered and tried to fight but as his warmth seeped into your skin, you quickly stopped and tucked yourself against him. His soft chuckle was the last thing you heard as you fell asleep, feeling safer and warmer than you have in months.
“Are you still hungry? I can dish you up some more stew.” You head to the small kitchen to get a glass for the flower before setting it on the little table you two share meals at.
“I can get it.” He smiles softly and slides a hand over your shoulder as he passes you on his way to the fireplace.
Smiling to yourself, you turn and busy yourself with slicing some of the cinnamon bread you made and grabbing a couple of rolls for Chris, turning to set them on the table. He’s already there, his pewter bowl of stew steaming. He has his tablet open, scrolling through some of the news articles to read what has come out in the last few hours.
Sitting across from him, you pick back up your crochet project. You’re making him a cardigan, he doesn’t know it yet since it’s in a deep pine green color instead of his usual black. His beautiful tanned skin would look really good with this color and you’re excited to give it to him once it’s completed.
The silence between you is never uncomfortable, never has been. You’re what you believe to be soul companions. The connection formed as Chris has helped you heal from your trauma that led you to him. The humiliation, the body shaming, and much more. He’s a man of few words but you can see it in his eyes, the patience and constant support as you work through your issues.
After he finishes his stew and the rolls you set out for him, you slide the rest of your cinnamon bread to him, smiling when he meets your eyes. “I made extra loaves this time. Have as much as you want.”
“You’re the best.” He returns your smile as he picks up a slice. He eats in silence as you crochet before he speaks up. “I’m going to be gone for a couple of days next week.”
“Ah, the monthly meeting?”
He nods. “Yeah, it’s that time again.”
Every month Chris has to go with his work for a monthly meeting on the southwest side of the forest. He’s usually gone for about five days and comes back exhausted. The first time he came back, he slept in the small shed he was working to convert into a greenhouse for three days. You always left him food and water, happy to see that when you would bring the next round, he had finished off what you left.
“Will you show me how to get the fire going so I can restart it while you’re gone?”
He nods again, mouth full this time. You smile and turn your attention back to your hands.
“I’m sorry that I have to leave you.” Your hands freeze but you don’t look up at him just yet so he continues. “With the winter coming, I’ll show you how to do anything you want to learn. You’ll still be safe here and stocked so I’ll be able to come back and see your beautiful face.”
You flush instantly at the complement. It’s the first time he’s called you beautiful and you try not to let your heart flip around in your chest too much. Slowly, you look up to see him flushed, his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks down at the now empty plate in front of him.
His amber eyes, currently not currently they’re usual amber but a little darker, meet yours and you gasp. “Chris, your eyes? Do they-,”
“Ah, it must be the fire.” Instantly he is up with his back to you as he stokes the fire back to life.
You furrow your brow and tilt your head feeling confused. Usually as the fire is reduced to embers, that is when you two go to bed and that would have been soon but now that he has built it again, that is postponed.
At least for him.
You start packing up your project and stand to get the dishes to the sink so you can wash them but Chris gently takes your wrist. “I’ll get them. I can tell you’re tired.” Slowly, he releases your wrist and moves his hand to cup your cheek. You tilt your head into it, without thinking and look up at him from under your full lashes, his eyes once again amber. His thumb caresses the blush on your skin before there is a small tug at the corner of his lips.
“I’ll come to bed after the fire goes out.” His voice is soft as he drops his hand and takes the dishes to the sink. You still haven’t moved as the water runs. Taking a trembling breath, you grab the woven basket you keep your supplies in and head to the bedroom.
To say you’re not attracted to Chris would be a lie. His black hair is longer right now than usual with his amber eyes, honeyed skin, and the muscles on his frame make him very easy on the eyes.
But that’s not what makes your stomach flip.
It’s the soft moments like you just had. The moments when you do something and he catches you fumbling, he’ll come help with a soft chuckle and a quiet “cute”. Not to be condescending but because he genuinely thinks you’re adorable. Then there are nights when he beats you to bed and his bedside light is sending a golden glow through the room when he looks at you with something primal, hungry.
You’ll come to bed in shorts and a shirt, one of his, and he’ll take you in slowly as you move about the room. You’ll feel his gaze burn over your curves and sear into your plush thighs as you rub lotion over yourself. Every so often you will catch his eyes in the mirror, the darkest you have seen them before he blinks and looks down at the book in his hand.
Chris isn’t immune to you. He is in fact more affected than he expected to be. His wolf yips when you’re near and you touch him or let him touch you. When you first arrived and were in so much pain, his wolf whined and howled for you. Now, as you two have shifted into something more comfortable, it’s getting harder to control those urges from his wolf. The want. The hunger. The all consuming need for you that has been slowly brewing over the months.
It pains him to leave every full moon but he refuses to tell you anything until he feels you are ready. Let alone, tell you about the rut that he has to endure alone before the actual moon. There is no meeting, there never has been. He sends himself as far away from you so he can keep you as safe as possible during the day.
At night, that is a different story.
On the night of the full moon, Chris is in his wolf form. Sleek all black fur with amber eyes, standing as tall as you, power and lean.
At night, he returns, crossing the forest in record time to watch over you as you sleep in the bed you share with his human form. He sits a patience vigil outside the cabin, a view into the room so he can see you but still remains hidden. He will wait until your breathing evens out and you give into the day, slipping into your dreams. Sometimes your dreams are quiet, sometimes you cry out and his wolf whimpers softly, wanting to comfort you.
On the nights where your dreams leave you alone, he will hunt the surrounding area, making sure to stay close in case you somehow wind up in danger. The nights where you’re tossing and turning, whimpering, with tears spilling down your cheeks, he lays below the window, pressed up to the house. That is as close as he will allow himself to get in his wolf form. Until he tells you the truth.
Which he plans to do, very soon.
He hears you getting ready for bed in the other room as he busies himself with dishes that were clean minutes ago. Chris is just trying to clear his mind. The closer the full moon gets, the harder he has to fight his wolf. As you spend more time together, his wolf becomes more and more attached. The primal side of him begging to claim you is why he spends extra days away. He doesn’t want to hurt you. It would destroy him.
“Chris?! What happened?”
He jolts out of his head and back into the present. The water is still running and the bowl he had in his hands has broken. The jagged piece slicing the skin of his palm clean open. Holding his bleeding hand under the water, he turns his head to see you standing there in your usual cold weather pajamas.
One of his shirts and a pair of leggings.
It started all because you forgot to grab sleep clothes. You managed to grab the important things, like your medicines (mostly supplements) but pajamas were not on the list. He gave you one of his softest shirts and when you woke up that next morning, covered in his scent, he couldn’t let you wear anything else. Plus, seeing you wear his clothes just makes him want you more.
“I dropped a bowl. I’m okay, I’m okay.” He responds, trying to keep you from coming closer. His wolf is already working on knitting the skin back together, the bleeding long since stopped.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Your eyes are shocked and nervous as you walk over to him, trying to see past him.
The size difference isn’t lost on him either. His wolf, having finished his mission to heal the wound on his palm, now yips and begs to get closer to you.
“Nope, it's just fine.” He shuts the water off and shows you his hand. “Just a little scratch.”
“Man, I liked that bowl.”
Chris chuckles and shakes his head as he tosses the pieces into the trash before drying his hands off. “We can get more.” You smile up at him and nod. Slowly, you relax after the short burst of adrenaline wears off. “Come on, sleepy.” He gently guides you to the bedroom and helps get you tucked between the soft, worn flannel sheets.
Almost as soon as he turns to walk away, your chilled fingers curl around his wrist. He feels the tremors but he’s not sure if they’re from the cold of the cabin or from the small shot of adrenaline. “Will you stay for a little bit?”
“Of course.” He crawls over you and lays on his side of the bed.
You let him get adjusted and hold his arm up before you curl into his side, instantly melting into his warmth. A soft moan leaves your lips as you press into him, your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know how I’ll survive the cold without you.”
Chris turns his head so his nose is buried in your hair, breathing you in as his hand slides up and down your back, trying to get more heat into you, hating that you’re still shaking slightly. “We’ll have to swap out some things for thicker, winter wear. I need to do the same.”
You nod and curl yourself tighter into his warmth. He rests his cheek on your head and lets his eyes slip closed. Having you in his arms at the end of the day might be one of his favorite things. It’s his reward for making it through one more rotation on the Earth’s axis.
“Chris?” He hums in acknowledgement. “Don’t leave me when it’s cold. Please?”
His hands stop moving and he squeezes his eyes closed. “I don’t know if it’s possible right now.” He hates himself for lying. You never asked him to stay before so he knows you must really be afraid. He hears you sniffle before the wet drops of your tears land on his collarbone. “Hey, hey, hey.” He cups your jaw softly and tries to tilt your face to look at him but when you put up the slightest bit of resistance, he stops and just rests his forehead to the top of your head. “Please don’t cry. I hate it.”
“I’m just scared. I’ll try to be as self-sufficient as I can but what if I burn down your cabin?”
Chris can’t help the smile that comes to his lips. “You don’t have to be scared. I’ll show you everything you need to know so you don’t burn down our cabin. You have picked up so much and have been such a huge help.” He’s not lying now. After getting you nursed back to health, getting your strength back up, Chris started showing you how to do some little things around the cabin and the surrounding property to maintain upkeep.
He still handles all of the big things but most of the time he brings you with him because he really likes to have you around. Plus, you’re always so eager to help, even if you’re just holding a tool, a flashlight, or even just fetching something for him.
You must not catch his correction because you continue. “I’m either going to freeze to death or I’m going to burn your house down.”
“Our house.” He corrects again and he can feel your body when you register his words. “Yes, this is our house. It has been the moment I carried you in here.”
Smiling softly, you burrow your head deeper into his chest, wrapping your arm tighter around his stomach. “Don’t let me burn our house down.”
A smile still on his lips, Chris presses them to the top of your head softly. “Never.”
The cold snap came earlier than either of you could have predicted.
He woke up one morning a couple weeks later to frost on the windows and he knew this winter was going to be hard. He would be fine but you, his beautiful, precious human would not be unless he did something.
Chris got to work prepping the house, winterizing, as it would be called. Making sure the windows are sealed and covered, getting thick down blankets and electrical blankets as well. He spent hours chopping wood to make sure there would be enough to keep the fireplace stocked.
While Chris would be chopping the wood and working on the cabin, you were prepping your garden and food storage the best you could. You’ve learned a lot about living off the grid and off the land but nothing could have prepared you for something like this. Not weeks in advance.
When you weren’t in the garden, the kitchen, or your green house, you were helping to stack the wood that Chris chopped. He smiles as he watches you, trying to make sure the stacks against the house don’t fall.
“It’s okay if they tumble.” He hurries over and catches a couple logs before they fall on you. “This is a perfect start. When it gets low, I’ll come out and do the rest.”
You nod and go to step back but you stumble and wind up falling back into his solid muscle. One of his arms holds you close, the other restabilizing the logs to not fall on you.
“I’m sorry.” You reply and go to stand but Chris can tell from your voice that you’re exhausted.
Scooping you up effortlessly, he carries you up the stairs and into the house. “You never have to apologize.” He sets you down in your favorite arm chair and lays a blanket you knitted over your lap. “Are you okay?”
You nod and lean back, letting the cabin’s warmth seep into your bones. “I’m fine. Being up early and all the prep has me feeling pretty stressed.”
Chris smiles and cups your face softly, tilting your head side to side as he takes you in. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m okay. I think I just need to rest. Just for a little bit.”
“Take as long as you need, beautiful.” He stands and kisses your forehead. “I think you are doing great, by the way.” His hands rest on the arms of the chair, caging you in and surrounding you in his warmth and scent.
“You rea-a-” Your voice cracks and you swallow thickly before clearing your throat and trying again. “You really think so?”
Chris nods and places a kiss on your forehead, “I know so. Most of that wood would have sat out there until later this winter but you have been working hard to line the house with it. Thank you.” He smiles as your face flushes. He straightens up and heads to the kitchen, “Did you still want chicken and rice for dinner?”
“Yes please. I have everything ready to go, it just needs to go over the fire.”
“Hang out and rest. I can get it on the fire before I come sit with you.”
You nod and lean back, melting into the comfort of the couch as Chris gets the pot you put together with your dinner and hangs it on the hook in the fireplace. He then feeds and rebuilds the fire before pulling his sweater off and sitting beside you.
Pulling your feet into his lap, he leans back and gently slides your shoes off. You smile and watch him as he squeezes your feet before massaging them. Your head falls back and you moan his name as his thumb works the sore spot you’ve often had trouble with.
Chris smirks and watches you, shifting to hopefully hide his reaction to you moaning his name. He eventually switches to the other foot but this being the nondominant he does not get the same reaction.
You giggle and pull your foot back when his thumb slips over a ticklish spot. “No. God please don’t.”
He chuckles and shakes his head, “I would never.”
“Good.” Pulling your feet under you, it allows you to shift closer, pausing for a moment before moving onto his lap. You’re sideways, facing the fireplace as you adjust the blanket on your lap to cover you both. When he doesn’t ask you to move, you lay your head on his shoulder and his arms wrap around your waist.
It feels so right. Being with Chris like this. The small intimate moments that make your stomach flip and your heart flutter. It’s just so easy and effortless, which is not something you are used to. Chris is a true partner, he doesn’t do everything for you but he supports you as you try to do it for yourself. That alone means more to you than a million foot massages.
“You’re my favorite.” You whisper softly as his thumb draws circles on your thigh.
“I’m your favorite?”
“Yeah. My favorite person.”
His smile is wide and pride fills his chest. Chris wraps his arms tighter around you, burying his nose in your hair. “You’re my favorite too, beautiful. You have been for a very long time.” He kisses you temple.
You smile and relax deeper into his warmth, letting his gentle kisses soothe you. Soon, you fall asleep without meaning to.
You were going to freeze to death.
Not actually but you felt like it. Nothing was working. The electric blankets were not warm enough. Your core temperature had dropped too low and that is where the danger started. The fire is burning but taking time to spread through the rest of the cabin. After shivering so hard in bed you swore you could feel the whole thing shake (which is impossible because Chris made the thing himself out of wood and it is SOLID), you went to lay on the floor in front of the fireplace. Soon, you’re asleep, not carrying that you have no pillow and nothing but the one down blanket you burrito’d yourself in.
It’s just past midnight when the front door slips open and a shadow slinks into the house. It stops when it sees you in the front room in front of a fire, roaring like you just added more wood to it before passing out again in front of the hearth. You stir slightly when the door shuts so the shadow freezes, watching you. When your heartbeat and breathing steadies, the large shadow moves closer. Chris’s wolf form moves to lay just out of the light of the fire, resting its large head on its paws.
You have spread out on your back, how you normally sleep, one leg bent at the knee and resting over the other. Both of your hands are tucked under your head, acting like a pillow to keep your skull from the hardwood flooring. The wolf whimpers softly when he sees the goose bumps rise to your skin and you shiver again in your sleep. He knows it isn’t the cold.
You’re having a nightmare.
He should be able to shift back soon and lay with you, helping more but for now, he crawls closer, leaving his head resting on your feet. The wind must shift because your features are illuminated by the soft glow of the full moon. Your brow is furrowed and your lips are drawn back from your teeth like you are wincing in pain.
As if you can sense you’re not alone, your features relax and your heart rate slows down once again, leading him to believe you are no longer in your nightmare. Nuzzling closer to you, the wolf allows his eyes to slip shut, enjoying how close he gets to be to you. It’s just before 3am when your dreams start up again.
This one starts out the same. You whimper softly and your fingers twitch. As it progresses, Chris notices this is different. Your twitches turn into you gripping the sheets and you’re writhing under the blankets. A pleasured gasp leaves your lips and that is when the scent of your arousal hits him.
A low whine rumbles through his wolf form as his head leaves your feet and he slowly backs into the shadows, his large head dying to rest between your legs but he removes himself for the most part, his eyes trained on your face.
“Chris, please,” when his name leaves your lips followed by a raw, pleasured cry, he forces himself back out of the cabin. If he had stayed any longer, his wolf would have acted on instinct and tried to claim you.
The two of you have shared a lot about yourself but you have never mentioned anything about your sexual desires. So as you dream of him, he paces the surrounding area until he can return to his human form and crawl into bed beside you.
It’s now early morning, a clock in the house would tell you it’s 6:28am. You’ve kicked the covers off and have starfished yourself on the bed. Slowly, your eyes open and you take a deep breath as you come back into your body. Flexing your fingers and toes, you stop when your fingers come in contact with skin.
Slowly, you turn your head and find Chris laying beside you. He’s very naked so you keep your eyes focused on his face, which is peaceful. He’s still in a deep sleep, curled on his side favoring you. There is a thin layer of sweat covering his body and you can guess it is because of the heat in the cabin. You also realize you are in bed. You distinctly remember sleeping in front of the fireplace. Chris must have scooped you up when he got home and laid down with you.
Gently you get out of bed and slip your feet into thick slippers. The front room is dark so the fire is low or completely out. You reach behind the bed to crack the window, allowing a cool breeze to come through, letting it cool Chris’s heated skin.
You smile softly, you pull the thinnest quilt over his hips to give him some modesty before you disappear into the bathroom. Taking care of business, you note that he is home early. He wouldn’t normally be home until later this evening so you wonder why he is here. Definitely not complaining, just curious.
After cleaning up, you head back into the bedroom to slip back under the covers. With Chris back, you don’t have to worry about being cold. His presence alone has made the bedroom more tolerable already. Even though he is indecent, you still scoot closer, allowing your hand to rest next to his, curling your body in towards his. You let sleep find you once more, not noticing that his fingers have laced with yours and been tugged against his chest.
Hours later you wake feeling disoriented and sweating. You groan and try to get out of bed but that is when you feel two arms pull you tighter against something hard and solid. A grumble sounds from behind you and all at once your mind is wide awake.
Chris is home and is naked.
Currently he has your back pinned to his chest, his large, solid body curled behind yours. His arms are wrapped around you, one hand resting on your lower stomach and the other is just under your breast. This is the most touching you have ever done with Chris.
A stolen forehead kiss here or there with hugs and soft caresses, sure. But the complete bear hug from behind, his pinky literally resting on your breast, the finger tips of his other hand resting under the elastic of your panties, yes his fingers are already inside your leggings.
What really shocks you is the steel rod you feel nestled against your hind end. The icing on the cake is when you shifted to get out of bed and he pulled you back, Chris groaned against your shoulder and rocked his massive package against your ass. Your jaw drops as you feel the full length of him against you.
“Chris?” Your hands gently come up and tap on his arms. “Honey, you gotta let me go.”
More grumbling comes from behind you as he presses himself against you once more, a low growl rumbling through his chest. You can’t make out what he says but you can feel how hot he has gotten against you. His fingers twitch against your breast and your stomach. He pulls you back to him, groaning as he feels your softness give against him.
“Chris? Wake up.” You try to shake him but that only ends up with you flipped onto your stomach, his legs straddling your plush thighs. He groans into your shoulder as his hips roll against your ass. You can feel how wet his cock is getting from the amount of precum leaking from him.
He growls your name and you hear his jaw clench while his hips continue to grind against your ass. “Fuck,” your name slips past his lips in a whimper. “You feel so good, baby girl” His voice is raw and rough with arousal.
“Christopher!”
Eyes snap open. All movement ceases.
Within seconds the weight is off of you and you can hear him across the room. A drawer opens and closes before his foot’s steps sound and then the front door slams.
You jump at the slam, your heart racing for a different reason this time. You give yourself a few moments to calm down and straighten the bed and your clothing before heading to the front door.
Chris is pacing out in the front yard, only in a pair of black shorts. His hands in his hair and his eyes squeezed shut. You open the door and before you can press the storm door open he freezes and looks up to the house. The sun catches his features and you’re rooted in place.
His usually amber eyes are black, no mistaking it this time. His canines are elongated and you can see his ears are pointed. What you notice before all else is the tears filling his eyes and the streaks down his cheeks. He turns and you can tell is going to take off but you open the door and hurry onto the porch.
“Please don’t run.” Your voice is so soft but your heart squeezes at the fear of him taking off on you.
When your voice breaks, Chris falls to his knees, his whole body slumping onto his flank. His head hangs between his shoulders and his hands are in fists. Soon blood begins seeping between his knuckles and he quickly moves them to fist the pine flooring. Your devotion has floored him.
Ruined him.
Chris is heaving breaths as his forehead rests on the forest floor. He’s so focused on not losing control and changing that he doesn’t notice you’ve come up to kneel in front of him until your hands run over his hair. His whole body stills as he tries to focus on your touch but it’s too soft.
“Nails. Back. Please.” His voice breaks on the last word as he begs for you to divert his attention.
Within seconds you’re closer, sliding your nails over his bare back. Chris shivers and you watch as the red lines and goosebumps come to the surface of his skin. He groans and arches up to your nails so you press harder, dragging them up and down. His claws release so quickly he is up and has pulled you under him, nuzzling his nose into your neck and breathing your scent.
You continue to slide your hands over his back, not wanting to over do it with your nails and do more harm than good. Minutes pass and he is still trembling so you bravely let your fingers thread into his hair as you hold him. Softly you whisper “you’re okay” and “I’m right here” just like he used to when you were struggling. You have no idea what is going on but you are not going to let him go through it alone.
Not anymore.
Eventually he fully relaxes against you, his knees sliding out from under him. You continue your gentle caresses and whispers until he moves to his elbows and looks down at you, his amber eyes back to normal. Your hands move to cup his face and his eyes close before he leans forward to rest his forehead on yours.
“I’m so sorry.” His words whisper over you and you shake your head slightly. “Yes. I violated you and I’m so, so sorry.” Once again, his voice breaks.
You shush him softly and run your fingers over his jaw, nuzzling your nose with his which makes him whimper softly. “I was more shocked than anything.”
The moment you nuzzled your nose to his, Chris was a goner. He has done it to you countless times but when you did it back, that act alone solidified that he was in love with you. In wolf packs, when two wolves nuzzle one another like you did to him, it’s a way to show affection, intimacy, and even submission. It’s also something mated wolves do in their wolf forms before and after a hunt.
“And what you saw," he starts but you cut him off, knowing he is my ready to talk about it
“You don’t have to say anything now. Whenever you’re comfortable sharing, you can.”
He deflates into you, letting his face rest in your neck to breathe in the scent that is his favorite in the world. You with just the slightest hint of him. An emotion that he cannot quite name wrecks through him. It is enough to bring tears to his eyes once more but he swallows it back and just basks in the feeling of knowing that you were always meant to be his.
Mate.
You kiss his temple softly, holding onto him with no idea of what is currently happening. All you know is he needs comfort and you are more than willing to give it to him. If anyone were to come up and see you both, it would be very suspicious. You are on your back with your legs hooked over his hips, your bodies are tightly pressed together, and his head is in your chest.
Chris is fighting himself from telling you how he feels and he also is trying not to grind himself against you. So, after letting himself stay with you for a few more minutes, he pulls away and stands before he picks you up and gently sets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and walks with you back towards the house.
You stop at the bottom of the stairs and tilt your head as you look up at him, a couple stairs ahead of you. “Chris?”
He turns to look down at you but that is when the arrow sails through the air and plants itself right into your chest. Your eyes widen in shock and fear as they turn up to him and they mirror your emotions back.
Shock. Fear.
Two emotions Chris swore you would never feel in his presence again.
He failed you.
Within seconds you are in his arms and back in the house.
The last thing you remember is Chris begging you to hold on before a snarl rips through the air. Something large and black rips through the front door as your eyes fall closed and your world goes silent.
The door doesn’t fully shut behind him before Chris has shifted. His wolf tears through the forest until he finds the man with the bow. It’s finished before anyone could blink. It’s midday before Chris gets back to you, his wolf still simmering with rage at the idea of you being hurt. He mildly feels guilty for leaving you but once glance at any clock would tell him he was not away from you for more than 10 minutes.
Back in his human skin and he scales the steps to get to you. Relief fills him when he sees you’re breathing. He can hear your heart beat but he waits no time getting you in his arms and then he is back out the door.
His pack resides on the south west side of the forest. In his wolf form it wouldn’t take him 30 minutes to cross the miles but in his truck, it’s agonizing. Chris has warned the pack’s healer, Felix, that he’s bringing his mate. He made the seven of them swear that they would not mention their nature to you, not until Chris gets to tell you himself.
Now, days later, you’re still unconscious in the spare bedroom of Felix’s home. That is where he keeps his supplies and where he treats everyone. You were treated and deemed stable but Felix wanted to keep you close in case of infection.
It’s been six days since he felt you against him.
Six days since he held you in his arms.
Chris feels like he is going to go insane. He’s pacing the small hallway outside the door as Felix checks your vitals. “She’s okay to take home whenever you want. We’re past the window of infection. I’ve shown you what to watch for and how to keep everything clean if something does happen.”
Chris nods and looks to the healer and then to another member of the pack, Minho. “Any word on what the guy wanted?”
Minho, the one who handles the loose ends of the pack. Whether that is spinning rumors in town or erasing someone entirely. “It would have been easier if you left him alive but it honestly looks like an accident. He was a hunter, not our kind or anything supernatural. He had a heart condition so it’s not hard to believe he had a heart attack that made his arrow go off course.”
Chris nods and pats Minho on the shoulder. “Thank you for checking for me.” He turns to Felix and nods in respect. “And thank you for taking care of her.”
Minho and Felix nod back but it is Changbin, who came from the kitchen who replies, “you’re the alpha. Of course we’ve got your back.” He takes another bite into a roasted chicken leg in his hand, smiling at Chris.
Chris winces and shakes his head. Alpha was not a role he wanted. When their previous alpha died, the pack was just going to stick together and be leaderless but after the first full moon, it was clear someone needed to step up. Chris is the oldest and was voted to be leader by the other seven so he had no other choice.
Changbin is the muscle of the group. If someone goes too far or over stays a welcome, he makes sure they get where they need to be.
“Shouldn’t you be off reservation for the time being? I thought you had a yoga thing with that one wolf.”
Changbin smirks and nods, “we leave tonight. I convinced Seungmin to join me.”
“Poor kid.”
“Too bad the Alpha is mated, you would have loved it.” Changbin finishes the meat off the leg and heads back into the kitchen for another. “Yah, this is great, Minho!”
“Save some for everyone else, piggy!” Minho, who is also the cook of the pack, teases as he follows the younger wolf to the kitchen. It leaves Felix and Chris together in the hall.
“So, you think she’s the one?”
“I don’t think,” Chris looks from your room to Felix. “I know.”
“That is something many of us dream of. Congratulations.”
Chris looks into your room and sighs softly when you’re still unconscious. “She saw me lose some of my control and wasn’t scared.” He smiles fondly. “After all she has been through, she was concerned about me, not scared.”
They all nod in agreement. You’re his, one way or another. He’s helped you heal and that has gained him true devotion. You are his. And he is yours.
“Chris?”
His heart plummets to his stomach and he turns when he hears the softest whisper of his name. Your eyes are open and you’re sitting up in the bed you have been in for the last six days. You’ve never been more beautiful to him.
“Baby girl,” he barely makes it to your bedside before he is on his knees, your hand curled in his.
A smile on his face so wide he feels like his cheeks might cramp. You return his smile with a weak one of your own. Felix follows but after checking on you, he leaves and pulls the door closed. After Felix left you apologized to Chris for bleeding on the couch and then drifted off once again.
Still beside you, this time on the bed and stretched out beside you, one arm under your head and the other cupping your cheek softly. He’s watching you sleep more, his eyes shimmer with unshed tears.
“I love you so much.” He presses his forehead to yours before nuzzling his nose with yours. His eyes falling closed, a few tears slipping past his lashes. “I can replace the couch. I can’t replace you.”
He whispers his life story to you, hoping you can hear him. Even if you can't, he'll tell you again. He talks until his voice starts to break, and the sun is setting. Changbin has brought food and water but he hasn’t stopped talking to you long enough to eat.
“Then I found you.” He smiles against your cheek. “You were so small, so fragile. I was scared I would break you when I lifted you off the forest floor.” He shifts back enough so he can take you in. “When I look at you now, your body is so beautiful and so full of life and happiness, it’s so hard not to tell you how badly I want you. I’ve been waiting, not wanting to push you but I don’t know if I can wait anymore.”
He pauses to eat and drink before he curls into the bed with you, covering you both. You both lay in silence for a while, the sounds of the night passing around the house. Finally, as he hears the rest of the pack settle in for the night, Chris allows his eyes to close.
“Come back to me, baby girl. I’m waiting to tell you so many things. Mostly, I just want to tell you I love you.”
There is a ray of sunlight directly in your eyes. You are sweating profusely and your body aches. Tilting your head some, you realize how caged you are. Chris has his arms around you and one leg slotted between yours. His chin is resting over the top of your head. The sun has managed to shine over his shoulder and into your eye. You try to shift but it pulls at your stitches making you wince and whimper softly.
Amber eyes shoot open to meet yours. You watch as they go from alarm to warm within seconds. Chris smiles and you can’t help but return it. “Good morning, Chris.”
He smiles and pulls you closer, careful of your stitches, and kisses your forehead. “Good morning, beautiful.” He holds you, letting you get comfort-
“Chris, I gotta pee so bad.”
“Oh!”
Almost an hour later, you’ve cleaned up with a warm shower. Chris didn’t join you but he stayed close just in case you needed him. When you were done, he helped you dress. Then dry, brush, and braid your hair. You were just finishing up brushing your teeth when Felix knocked on the doorframe of the bathroom.
So now you’re sitting on the bathroom counter, letting Felix check the front of your wound. He can see the back through the mirror and deems it healing well.
Chris is prowling in the hallway, his shoulders tense and his eyes narrowed as Felix has his hands on your chest. When your life was in danger, all he wanted was for the gentle handed healer to do was fix you with his touch but now, Chris wants his hands off you. When you gasp in pain, Changbin has to hold him from bursting into the bathroom and beating the healer.
“He’s helping her, Chan.”
Your eyes meet his, dark and stormy, from the other side of the doorway. “Chan?”
“It’s his middle name and how we met him.” Felix replies, cutting Changbin off. “You know him as Chris?”
You nod and wince once more as Felix finishes removing the rest of the stitches. He goes to apply more of the ointment he has been mixing and applying to you on the daily, explaining to you that it is more active that way.
The ointment Felix mixes has some of Chris’s werewolf DNA that Felix collected by swabbing his cheek a couple times a day to make sure you got the most potent version. That allowed the healing process to speed up some. You still have an arrow wound that goes from your right shoulder through to the front where it exited just above your collarbone. Chris’s DNA has helped to mend most of the muscle back together as well as sealing it from the inside out.
“Yeah. We never really discussed any other names. I mean, we know each other’s last names and stuff.” You exhale through your nose as the ointment stings a little. “Is this stuff supposed to burn?”
Felix nods as he pulls his gloves off and tosses them to the trash. “The active ingredient is mint to help fight infections. It should fade to a cooling sensation soon.” He leans down and gently blows on the wound without thinking.
Quickly you’re off the counter and push Felix behind you. Your hand meets the hard muscle of Chris’s chest as his eyes glare at the man behind you. You feel the growl that is rumbling through him.
“Felix, I’m okay. Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Anytime.” He nods and skirts around you and Chris to exit the room, a flush on his cheeks.
Changbin stutters through a “glad you’re okay” before he disappears as well.
Within seconds of them disappearing from view, the front door opens and closes. You and Chris are the only two people in this house. He’s breathing heavily and you feel how much more heated his skin has grown since your hand has been on him. His eyes are black and you watch them take over your mostly naked frame.
You’re in one of his hoodies, one he kept in the truck, and it is still unzipped to hang off one shoulder so Felix could tend to your wound. The growl that was rumbling under your hand now turns to a whine as Chris takes in your lush thighs and your strong legs.
“What was that, Chris?”
“I need to hold you.”
“Not until you-“
“He put his scent on you.” When you raise an eyebrow, he rushes on. “Blowing on you. Removed some of me and replaced it with him. I have to fix it.” His eyes soften as his hands move like they want to rest on your hips but he waits for your consent. “Please baby, let me?”
Your hand moves and instantly you’re pulled up against his chest, his arms locking around you like vices. One hand is on your lower back, dangerously close to slipping down over the hem of the hoodie and the other is pressed between your shoulder blades. As your arms wrap around him, his nose goes into your neck and you feel him inhale.
“Good god, you smell so fucking good.” He groans and he turns lean heavily against the wall, almost as if he is afraid his legs would give out. As if on a reflex, presses himself against you. The thick, hard line of his cock right against your stomach.
Your eyes widen in surprise and you go to pull away to look at him but he holds you too tightly. “Chris, what’s going on?”
“I need to take you home.”
“You can. You heard Felix say it was safe now.”
He growls and grazes his teeth over your neck, where he will mark you once you let him. His hips roll against you, unable to help himself. The human part of his brain has shut off and all he can think about is you.
You’re alive. You’re breathing. You’re covered in him.
“Chris, take me home and we can keep doing whatever it is you want to do. But please, take me home.” He whines softly, his teeth sinking in a little harder, making you moan and grip the back of his jacket. “Please, Chris.”
Pulling himself away from you is a Herculean task that takes about three minutes longer than it should have. Eventually, he’s pulled back and has you at arms length. “I did it again. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Chris, I would let you take me in the middle of the forest. I just really want to be in our home. I want to be in our bed.”
His grip on your arms tighten slightly and he groans again. “Please, I’m about to lose my mind and I have things I need to tell you before we go any further.” He begs softly. “I can get us home but, god this is going to sound awful, stay on your side of the truck and please don’t talk or we won’t make it.”
You nod and turn to finish getting dressed. That movement shifted the hoodie revealing your slicked core and the unmasked scent of your arousal to him. He manages to let you get sweats on before grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the front door.
“Take the truck and go. I’ll meet you at the cabin.” He puts the keys into your hand before dropping your wrist.
“Chris, what-?”
“Baby girl, please!” You go to protest but that is when seven men rush in and guide you out. The last thing you hear is a howl and you’re not sure if it was from outside Felix’s house.
Or if it came from inside.
There was a series of loud snarls, shouts, and what sounded like furniture breaking coming from the house. Running to the truck at the animalistic sounds, you throw yourself into the truck and take off. The only reason you left Chris behind was the look in his eyes when they met yours. It pained you to hear him and to see him like that. You also couldn’t help to feel like you might have been the cause.
You might have been less than 30 minutes from the cabin when a streak of black races by the truck. Your eyes widen as your adrenaline spikes. Your eyes search for it but instead, they land on the largest wolf you have ever seen standing in the middle of the road.
Slamming on your breaks, you throw the truck into park and look over the animal. Beautiful, silky looking midnight fur, so long it flows when the wind comes through the trees. It’s probably as tall as the hood of the truck, maybe more. Its ears are pinned low over its head and that’s when you notice seven other wolves in the trees around it, all in various shades.
A low rumble comes from the wolf in front of you and you notice the way its lips curl to show off its canines. Your eyes take in the features, all stunning but incredibly lethal; from its ears, to its jaw, up to its eyes, you freeze.
Amber.
You throw the door open and hop down out of the truck. A soft gasp leaves you as the landing jostles the wound on your chest making the wolf sink low, his tail whipping behind him. You expected another growl but you got a soft whine instead.
“Chris?” Slowly, you walk closer, your eyes pinned to the beautiful wolf in front of you. The wolf lowers itself to its belly when you’re an arms length away, bowing its head for you.
He’s submitting to you, not fully but hopefully enough to make you more comfortable. His amber eyes are trained on you and when you move to sit in front of him, pulling your legs beneath you, he crawls forward to lay his big head in your lap. Your hands stay up, unsure of what to do with them before they settle on the wolves fur.
“What happened to meeting me at the cabin?”
The wolf whines and nuzzles himself deeper into your lap.
“How about I make you a deal?”
Amber eyes turn up to meet yours.
“Return to me at dusk. I’ll be waiting and we can talk.” You lean forward and press a kiss to the plush fur atop the wolf’s head.
You hear his footsteps on the porch. Turning to look out the window, you can see the last of the sun has set. “Right on time.” Your heart pounds as you set the last plate of dinner on the table and straighten just as he pushes open the door. You smooth your hands over your jeans but freeze when your eyes meet.
He nods and closes the door before stepping deeper into the room. “It smells amazing.”
“I made your favorite. Well, not lamb but steak.”
He walks over and smiles. “I’m starving but first, I have to do this or I’m going to drive myself mad.” He cups your jaw softly with one hand, the other wrapping around your waist. He brings his face close to yours, giving you a chance to tell him no, but you cup his face in your hands, move to your tiptoes and press your lips to his.
It’s everything you thought kissing Chris would feel like. His soft lips, his big hands, the strong body he holds you against. His scent is so much stronger but it only makes you want him more so you press your lips harder to his, moaning as he opens your mouth with his tongue.
The kiss was intended to be a sweet, simple thing but of course anything that involves you, Chris can’t help himself. You moan into his lips and he’s moved both hands to your ass, gripping as he lifts you with ease. Your back doesn’t meet the mattress like you expected but the hardwood of the cabin wall.
Chris finally breaks away from the kiss only to trail his lips down your jaw and your neck. He nuzzles the spot under your ear and you feel his chest rumble. “You always smell so goddamn good, baby girl.”
Without second thought, he’s dragging his tongue over your neck and groaning at the way you taste. “Fuck, I know we’re supposed to have dinner and talk but I don’t think I can wait anymore.” His teeth graze the spot and you arch against him, crying out his name when he bites a little harder.
“Please let me make you mine, baby girl.” His lips trace up to your ear where he nips at your earlobe softly. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” His tongue traces the shell of your ear. “Please baby girl, please let me have you.”
You gasp as you feel his tongue slide over your skin but at his groan, the way he sounds lost and fucked out already makes you want to squeeze your thighs together. “I’m yours, Chris. No matter what.” You manage to catch his eyes once before adding, “I love you, too.”
You watch as his eyes shine before they fall closed. “You heard?”
“I thought it was a fever dream until earlier on the road home. We can talk later if you want but we should still talk.” Your fingers play with the ends of his hair. The same silky texture and midnight shade as the wolf from earlier. You can feel his indecision so you make it for him.
Using one of your fingers to tilt his chin up, you lean down and kiss him. With you leading the kiss, Chris completely submits, whining into your mouth as your tongue sweeps into his mouth to taste him. Your fingers now fully thread into his hair, tugging softly to angle his head just right so you can slow the way your lips meet and tease him more. His whimper as your tongue rolls against his makes your core clench. On reflex, your hips rock against his and that is when he snaps.
His hand moves to your throat and Chris breaks the kiss, pinning you in place. A wicked grin comes to his lips and it’s your turn to whimper under his gaze. “You’ll let me fuck you in the middle of the forest?” The pressure on your throat spikes your arousal and it makes Chris’s mouth water at the smell.
“One night, I’ll let you hunt me.”
He groans and thrusts his cock up against you and you can feel, almost obscenely, how hard his cock is through the sweats he pulled on. “Baby, you can’t just say that shit. I need to be gentle the first time.”
You nod and relax in his hold. “Take me to bed, Chris.”
“My pleasure, my beautiful mate.” His hands are back on your ass, loving the way your flesh gives under his grip. “So fucking perfect. I love you so much.” His lips find yours as he slowly makes his way to the bedroom.
Sliding your hands over his shoulders, you shiver as he slides his hands to your thighs. A growl rumbles through him as he lays you down on the bed, spreading you out for him. Slowly, his eyes locked on yours, he slots himself flush with your core and grinds against you. “Fuck, you already feel so good against me. So goddamn soft.”
“Chris, please,” your voice is soft as you beg for him to do more.
He groans when your legs wrap around his waist, holding him against you as you grind yourself up to him. “And so strong. You’ll be able to handle me, won’t you, my baby girl?”
“Yes!” He smirks as your voice rises in pitch while you continue to writhe against him.
“Good girl.” Chris unlocks your legs and leans down to soothe your whimpers and whines with his lips. As he kisses you breathless, his hands manage to get your jeans open and start to tug them off. He tosses them over his shoulder before turning his attention down to the black lace panties you’re wearing. “You’re soaked for me, aren’t you baby girl?”
“I have been all day, Chris.” You’re watching him take you in, surprised that you only feel more turned on by the lust in his eyes and the hard outline of his cock in his sweats. His cock has started leaking where it rests, just under the waistband.
He licks his bottom lip and moves his fingers over your thighs, spreading you open for him. “My poor baby. I bet this beautiful pussy is throbbing and swollen, begging for me.”
His thumbs pull your panties down in one swipe, tossing them over his shoulder. Finally, his eyes leave your face and they slide over your body, stopping to notice your pebbles nipples straining against the shirt you’re wearing. His hands come to cup your breasts through the thin black material, groaning as he finally feels their weight in his hands.
“Careful, baby.” You warn before pulling your shirt off, adjusting his hands lower away from the wound.
“I’m so sorry. I’m getting impatient when I shouldn’t be. You have no idea how long I have wanted this, baby girl.” He leans down and when you expect him to tease your breasts, his lips meet yours in a slow kiss that is all teeth and tongue.
Your hands slip down his chest and under the hem of his shirt, letting your fingers graze the corded muscle at his side. Feeling your nails drag over his skin, Chris groans into the kiss, leaning down to cage you under him. He breaks from the kiss and nuzzles his nose with yours.
You smile and remove your hands from his shirt and bring them to cup his face. “Lay back for me?” The whimper that leaves him makes you clench, more arousal seeping from you. “Please, baby? Please relax and let me love you?”
“You’re making my head spin, baby girl.” He sits up, pulls his shirt off, and then moves onto his back, his hands moving to help guide you to straddle him. “Fuck, you don’t even know how hot you look right now.”
You had a feeling his idea and yours were two totally different images but with the way he is looking at you, you decided not to disagree. Instead you place your hands on his chest for balance and tilt your head to the side. Curiously you ask, “how do I look, Christopher?” His reaction to your question was not what you expected.
To his ears, your voice dropped and had a rasp to it, giving it the best, nastiest kind of sultry edge to it. Then, with your hands on his chest, your hips, the fucking gloriously full flare of them rolled so your core slide over his. Lastly, hearing his full name drip from your lips is enough to make him want to throw you over his shoulder and disappear into the woods for a week.
He groans and when your hands slip lower on his chest, your hips still fucking rolling that perfect amount of friction right where he needs it, Chris knows he’s not going to last.
“Like a goddess.” He starts rambling, feeling his cock throb with each roll of your hips. “Baby, if you don’t stop-,”
“Cum for me, baby.” Your lips trail from his collarbones over his pectoral muscles. “You deserve it, my love. I want to make you feel good.”
“Oh, you’re making me feel so fucking good. I’ve just waited too goddamn long for this to cum in my pants like I’m 14 again.” He growls out through clenched teeth but he is still yet to stop you.
“I’ve wanted you too, Chris.” Your teeth graze over the hard line of his pectoral muscle as your eyes meet his. “From the moment I woke up and you were perched in the chair. So handsome, so worried.” You sink lower, letting your lips and tongue trace over the definition on his abdomen.
Threading his fingers into your hair, Chris has his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches you acquaint yourself with his body. He flexes multiple times as you kiss lower until you get to his sweats. Your beautiful eyes look up to meet him and he’s lucky he didn’t blow in his pants.
“Just the tip and I’ll cum in your mouth like you want me, baby girl.” His hands move to shimmy down his sweats, stopping just shy of the base.
"Baby girl, my beautiful mate.” One hand moves from your hair to cup your cheek as his thumb caresses the skin there.
“I’m all yours, handsome. I have been since you welcomed me home.” You place a quick lick to his navel before turning your focus back down. “I’ve been dreaming of getting you in my mouth.” Your lips kiss over each inch of skin you reveal.
“Oh,” you breathe when you take in the curve of his thickness. “Baby, you’re so hard.” You slide your fingers up his shaft, watching his hips twitch.
Chris groans and his head thumps against the headboard as his eyes close. “Your fault.”
“Should I apologize?”
“Never.”
“Good because I wasn’t going to.” You smirk before leaning down and taking him into your mouth, moaning softly at the musky taste of him.
“Oh fucking-, your mouth-h, ah fuck, baby girl,” Chris is a mess above you as your lips have only curls around the head, swirling and teasing your way around it until you find that spot that makes it cock jump between your lips. You’re rewarded with a flood of precum which you swallow, letting Chris feel the suction that makes.
“Hands, give me your hands.” As you take more of him, your hands move up and into his awaiting palms. His grip is hard but not enough to hurt. He has to hold them or he’s going to shove that sinful fucking mouth of yours down to the base and make you gag. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn good for me.”
Without your hands, you’re forced to balance yourself with your elbows on his thighs making you shift when he does. You giggle and the vibrations alone, not even considering the fact that you’re having fun with his cock in your mouth, shoots him to the edge.
“Baby! I’m going to-o, fucking shit, oh goddamn!” You shift as you feel his cock swell as he approaches his climax before taking him deeper, letting the head bump the back of your throat as he cums.
His groans of your name could rattle the windows as he gently thrusts his hips up into your lips. “Good fucking, girl. My good fucking girl. That’s it, take it.” His filth comes out in heaving breaths as his hips continue to pump into your mouth.
Once his body has relaxed, you slowly pull up, opening your mouth slightly to allow the small amount of saliva and his spend drip down onto his cock and the sweats. Chris watches and licks his dry lips before he sits up to pull you in for a devouring kiss. His hands grip your hair, holding you at the angle he wants as he licks into your mouth growling when tastes himself.
The kiss is nasty, all teeth and tongues as his cock twitches, still rock hard between you. Slowly, you stroke him, slipping down over his sweats, trying to get a feel how big he actually is.
Chris groans and grips your hands to halt your movements. “Wait, before anything else happens.” His face flushes. “It’s not like human males. Well mostly, as you saw, but from what we have gathered, wolves have something extra at the base.”
“What is it?”
“A knot.”
Your eyes widen, “knot?”
Chris leans back and scrubs his hands over his face. “Fuck, I knew we should have talked first.”
You tilt your head, confused. “Are we compatible?”
“Oh, fuck yes baby, just have to go really slow and it might take some time before I can knot you.” His face is crimson as he watches your face.
You shake your head and pull his hands from his face. “I’ll adapt. It’s okay. Let me just make you feel good and we’ll go over the rest later.”
A low whine comes from him as your palm grazes his knot and you pull away from the kiss. “Is this,-?”
Chris nods and you feel his cock twitch. “Yes.” He breathes and then he arches, groaning as your thumb presses into his knot once more, massaging it softly. “Oh fuck, baby girl, you can’t-t,”
Biting your bottom lip, you watch as the angry red tip of his cock leaks precum profusely. “Sensitive. Got it.” Stroking him slowly, you notice a couple other differences between his cock and the few human males you have seen. The thick vein that runs up the bottom of a human’s shaft you see a thick vein that curls up around his shaft. The thickness and length are other apparent differences.
“Come here, baby girl.” Chris reaches down for you. “If you make me cum now, I’m going to pass out and be no good. Let me make you feel good.”
What he meant was “let me throw you on your back and bury my face between your legs”.
He’s made you cum at least twice on his tongue only and now he’s added his fingers. He’s been working on stretching you slowly, he knew it would be a task when you whimper with just his first finger. You had told him before that it had been a long time since someone has touched you and he remembers the cold pit in his stomach at the thought.
“This is how you should be treated. Every fucking night baby girl. Spread out to have your beautiful pussy kissed and stretched.” His voice deep and gravelly as his eyes look up to meet yours. “You’ll never know another day without being filled, my beautiful mate.” He leans back down, to circle your clit with his tongue.
Chris teases your clit while his fingers forcibly stretch your walls to take them. You whimper and whine, pulling at his hair. You’re writhing and he’s so fucking enchanted by you that he doesn’t notice how much his cock is leaking against the sheets.
“Chris, please,” you have been begging for him to fill you with every finger he’s added.
“Soon, baby girl. Soon, I’ll fill you up just like you want. I just don’t want to hurt you.” Gently you feel him add a third, sucking your clit between his lips, smirking against you. “You’re going to cum, I can feel it.” He moves them slowly to allow you a chance to adjust before he curls them and digs them into the spot he discovered which will make you drip down his wrist.
“Yes!” Your hips roll down over his face, grinding your clit into his face as his three fingers work to massage and stretch open your walls. “Don’t stop, baby, please!”
“Never, baby girl. Be my good girl and cum for me one more time.”
All it takes is for him to drag his fingers over that spot deep inside of you once more and for him to go back to suckling on your clit for you to spill over into your third orgasm. You scream his name as you try to push his face away. He smirks and shakes his head to stimulate you more, moving his fingers faster over that spot.
“Chris! Oh fuck baby, yes, right there!” Your back is arched off the bed as he drags out this orgasm. You feel the hot coil of your release tightening again. You’re incoherently whimpering as your body chases the never ending high.
Slowly, Chris drags his tongue over your clit, moaning against you as he feels your release start to leave you. It’s spilling down his wrist and onto the bed. Above him you’re screaming his name as the coil finally snaps.
Loud, unfiltered cries leave you as you squirt over his palm and down his wrist. Your fingers are still in his hair when he pulls back from your clit to watch as your release floods out of you and soaks the sheets below you. “That’s my good girl. So fucking good for me.”
As you come down, his fingers slowly pull out of your swollen and drenched pussy. Chris groans as he watches more of your release drip from you without his fingers inside you. “Fuck,” He licks over his lips before he gently licks your slit from bottom to top, cleaning you slowly.
Your thighs twitch more violently when overstimulation sets in so you have to push at his head. “Baby, please, I can’t.”
“Did you know you could do that?” He places a few kisses to your glistening lower lips.
“No. You actually gave me my first non-solo orgasm.” The flush that covers you deepens.
“You’re kidding.” He frowns, placing kisses over your hips and lower stomach. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Chris. You have more than made up for it.”
“You deserved so much better out of life.”
“I think fate knew because I got you.” You smile shyly up at him.
Chris smiles warmly and leans down to take your lips in a heated kiss. He’s so fucking love with you. “Thank you, for trusting me enough to let me in.”
Instead of answering, you lean up and kiss him tasting yourself on his tongue. Something feral unlocks in you and you’re pulling him down on top of you, legs wrapping around his waist. His growl into your mouth spurs you on so you roll your hips up to his, gasping when you feel his cock against your slit.
“You’re still so hard.” You’re soaked core slipping effortlessly with his cock.
He smirks and nods as he sits up, one hand braced by your head, the other spread across your core, his thumb holding his cock against you. His eyes are glued to where he is thrusting slowly, coating himself in you even more. “Fuck, you feel so good. I’m not going to last long.”
You release the bite you had on your lower lip, your hands moving from his down to his sides. “That’s just fine. I have a feeling we won’t be getting out of bed or leaving the cabin for a while.”
Chris chuckles and nods, "you might be on to something.” He winks before he pulls back and lays on his back once more. With ease he pulls you to straddle him, adjusting your hips so his cock continues to slide through your arousal, coating his shaft in you. He hopes if his cock is wet enough, it will make it easier on you.
His eyes are on you as your eyes are trained on his cock, now an angry red and leaking consistently against his abdomen. Reaching up, one of his hands cups your jaw, making your head tilt so you look at him. Your eyes are blown wide and a beautiful flush is covering your cheeks traveling down to your chest. His other hand reaches up and releases your hair from the tie you had it in, the beautiful locks falling over your shoulders.
“Are you ready for me, baby girl?” Biting your bottom lip, you nod and lift your hips on your own, allowing enough space for Chris to grip and position his shaft for you. “Nice and slow, beautiful. You control everything right now so we stop when you say so.”
Your eyes meet his once more as your hands rest on his forearms for balance. “I love you so much, Chris.” You smile softly as his face softens before you watch his head fall back and his jaw drops, a guttural groan leaving him.
Slowly you started to sink down onto him, the swollen tip of his cock breaching your walls. He’s already stretching you but with the prep easy to take. It’s when you get more of him into you, just about a third of his shaft, is when the burn really kicks in.
Both of you are panting as you move up before coming back down slowly, coating his shaft with your arousal to ease your slide down. “So fucking big, Chris.”
His growl rumbles through his chest as he bites his bottom lip to keep himself from snapping his hips up into you. The view he has is driving him insane. Watching his shaft disappear into your pussy, feeling your tight walls flutter around him as his girth forces them to stretch around him.
After many tortuous rounds of your hips rising and falling on his cock, you are finally fully seated on him, all the way down to his knot. Chris groans loudly, taking in the sight of your lips spread around him, ready to welcome that part of him into you.
You shift on his lap, trying to ease the pressure and Chris whimpers as if he were in pain, his hands tightening on your hips. You’re panting softly, your hands fisting on his chest as you breathe through the burn of the stretch, knowing that the sooner he lets you move, the better you will feel.
“You did so fucking good, baby girl. Goddamn you are just, so fucking - holy shit not yet!” His praise ends in a whimper as you start trying to move on him. The slow drag of your walls on his shaft shoving him closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tightly to still you. “Please, baby girl.”
You bite your bottom lip and nod, slowly settling back down on the pressure of his knot, loving how it just begs to pop past your entrance. Wiggling your hips in his hold, he whines and the sound is broken, pleading.
“Baby, it’s okay. We have so much more time. You’ve been so hard for so long.” Your hands slide over his chest to his biceps which are flexed with the effort he is putting into holding himself back. “Let me make you feel good now.”
Chris still has his head tilted back, breathing heavily though his nose to try to control himself as his fingers slowly relax and you smile widely. Once his hands are off your hips entirely, immediately begin to move on him. You moan loudly as his cock massages the overstimulated walls of your pussy, the swollen head grazing not only your gspot each time but as you lower yourself down, it gently taps your cervix making you gasp.
“Chris, baby, holy shit, you’re so deep.” Your head falls forward between your shoulders as you grind your hips, letting him sink even further into you. Moving your hands back to his chest for leverage, you push softly, lifting yourself slightly so you can spread your legs wider.
As you come back down you feel how much thicker his knot has swollen and you bite your bottom lip, grinding your hips down feeling it press and start to stretch your entrance.
Your soft moans as you rock your hips against his, letting his shaft massage the deepest parts of you, driving Chris insane. He feels how your pussy is clenching and dripping around his shaft and over his knot making it very difficult not to flip you over and fuck his seed into your womb.
“Chris, baby-,” you gasp as the swollen head rests fully against your cervix now, the foreign pain slowly giving way to pleasure the more his cock swells and leaks inside of you. Your hips start to stutter, overwhelmed by the feeling, a soft whine leaving you. “I can’t-,”
Chris is up and you’re on your back. “I’ve got you baby girl.” He was gentle in laying you down, trying desperately to avoid hearing you hiss in pain again due to your chest. “I’ll try not to go too hard but I can’t promise, baby girl.”
“Don’t, Chris. I want it, please baby.” Threading your fingers into his hair, you smile when he brings his forehead down to meet yours. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”
“I love you so fucking much, baby girl.” He kisses you and it’s slow and sinful as he thrusts back into you, holding you open by your thighs. Your moans get swallowed into the kiss as his tongue meets yours, rolling to match the slow grind of his hips as he works himself to the hilt.
You both gasp when his knot presses against your entrance, Chris slowly disconnects from the kiss. “Not tonight baby girl, but soon you will take it.”
“After my chest is healed, you can hunt me in the forest.” You’re panting softly, watching as Chris lets his eyes fall closed. “Then, you can give it to me. On the forest floor.”
“Fuck yes.” He gets lost in the idea of playing that game with you, that as his hips start to pick up their pace, he nearly misses the cues of your climax. He places one quick kiss to your lips before he sits up, pulling your hips up and slipping a pillow under them. From there he spreads you open more, holding you in an almost mating press.
“Chris!” Back arching off the bed, your hands grip his forearms.
“Mmm, that’s the spot isn’t it baby girl?” He smirks as your nails dig into his skin, another cry of pleasure leaving your lips. “Hold on, my beautiful mate.”
Chris chases your next climax like a man obsessed. Your walls flutter around him and he can feel your slick leaking down his shaft. The sounds bouncing around the bedroom are enough to drive him mad, the wet obscene sounds of his cock battering your pussy paired with the beautiful cries of his name that fall from your lips.
He’ll never get tired of the way you scream his name.
Your nails dig into his forearms as you cling to Chris. His thrusts are brutal and you hear the low growl that rumbles through him as his eyes watch where your stretched and swollen pussy take him repeatedly. All you feel is the pleasure he is forcing your body to take and all you can do is cry out his name.
“Chris,-“
“I know, baby. I know, me too.” He pants before letting go of your thighs, leaning down to one of his elbows beside your head, careful not to put too much weight on the side with your wound. “Cum for me.” His free hand sneaks between your bodies and traces his thumb over your clit slowly.
“Christopher,” His name comes out of you in a pleasured sigh before he shifts his hips and you feel his cock slam against your cervix. The pressure of his knot trying to squeeze into you, mixed with the slow tease of his thumb on your clit sends you screaming over the edge. His name leaves you in a sob that is nothing to do with pain but everything to do with an overwhelming pleasure.
Gentle kisses are scattered over your neck and jaw as Chris continues to rock his cock into you. The feeling of your release coating his lower stomach, his thighs and dripping on the bed paired with how your pussy is squeezing him sends him right behind you.
His forehead falls into your neck as his thrusts fall out of rhythm and he slams home one last time, releasing hard. Your name is a growl followed by a whimper as he grinds his cock deeper, fighting the urge and instinct to knot you.
“So fucking perfect, baby girl.” He whispers praise and worship as he presses deep into you one more time, allowing his cock to be the plug that holds your release against your womb. “Good fucking girl, fucking taking all of it.”
You both lay there, a tangled mess of sweat and other bodily fluids, panting heavily as you come back to yourselves. Your chest stings a little but when you open your eyes to see Chris smiling down at you in awe, you seem to ignore the pain. Returning his smile, you reach up to brush his bangs from his eyes, taking in his beautiful amber eyes.
He leans down and captures your lips in a lazy but still vile kiss that is all tongue, like he can taste your post-orgasmic high. His growl makes you clench around him, setting off another chain of events. Chris grinds slowly into you, forcing some of his release from you but the way his cock brushes against your sensitive walls almost brings tears to your eyes.
You pull back with a gasp as Chris kisses down your jaw and over your neck, nuzzling his nose against it before placing gentle kisses and licks along the line of your jugular. “Oh my god, Chris.”
“You just feel so fucking good.” His teeth graze where your mate mark will go, making you arch up to him. “That’s my good girl, just feel.”
He proceeds to pull more orgasms from you and as he grinds his second deeper against your cervix. His head falls to rest against your collarbone, most of his weight resting on you now. Smiling softly to yourself as your hands rub up and down his back, you notice he is still swollen and hard inside of you.
“Holy shit, Chris, you’re still so hard.”
He flushes and nods, “if my knot was in you, we’d be stuck for a while.”
“Can we take a bath and you tell me all about it?”
He nods, “of course. I can’t make any promises that I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do so.”
The smile on his face is blinding before he leans down and places a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you, my darling mate.”
“I love you too, Chris. My savior.” You smile and nuzzle your nose with his. “My alpha.”
Chris groans and instinct makes his hips grind into you, causing you to cry out. The sound that movement makes, the wet slide of his cock pushing into you filing the silence.
“You might actually cause me to lose my mind.” He whimpers as his cock swells more, pressing tighter against your overly sensitive walls. “We might not be making it to the shower anytime soon.”
You giggle softly and nod, "that's okay baby. I’m all yours.”
His smirk is wolfish, making you flush. “Damn right you are.”
Epilogue
Your feet pound against the freshly grown clover carpet of the forest. Spring has hit Horizon Forest but you can’t stop to admire the beauty. You have to run and you have to get away.
Behind you, miles away is the howl you have been waiting for.
Chris has gotten out of the basement.
It’s been six months since your first night with Chris. Since then, there has been a lot of development and adjusting you have had to make. Chris has had to make his fair share of adjustments too.
Like accepting your help during his rut.
Which started yesterday. Tonight is the night before the full moon, when his desire is the strongest. His instincts tell him that tonight is the best night to spread the wolf seed and expand the species. To breed.
This is also the night you two decided he gets to hunt you..
“So, can we return to the whole “fucking you in the forest” thing because I would really, really like to discuss that.”
“Chris, it’s not even 6am.”
“I can’t help it. You have said it no less than five times in the last month.”
“Well, if you can find me, you can knot me.” You shrug, pouring your coffee into your favorite mug. “Simple.”
“Baby, my senses are heightened. It would be a bad sign if I lost.”
You shrug and turn to lean against the kitchen counter. His eyes are trained on your face, watching for a reaction you are not giving away. Slowly, you raise your coffee to your lips and take a small sip. “Win- win for me.” You wink and enjoy watching the cute flush crawl up his neck.
After your injury, Chris told you everything. Some things you had inklings about but others took you by surprise.
He is a seventh generation werewolf and after losing his parents in a hunter attack, he sentenced himself to a life of isolation.
“We fought that night and I stormed out telling them I felt smothered. They died before I got to apologize.” His eyes were wet but no tears fell, he had done his mourning and had worked through a lot of his pain with the previous alpha of the pack. “So I came here, where my family has had land and I built this cabin.”
“Why don’t you stay with the pack?”
“Felix and Jeongin are the only ones who stay on pack property for good. Felix needs to be where everyone can find him. Jeongin keeps busy by making sure the houses are in order.”
“Do any of the other guys have mates?”
Chris shakes his head. “Sadly no. None of them have found theirs yet but they all have female wolves they can turn to during the rut to safely get through it.”
“What did you do?”
“Before?” You nod. He wrings his hands in his lap. “It all depended. Before I was alpha, I was with a different woman every month, that’s just how we are. Sometimes we find a connection that makes us commit but most of the time we’re all pretty open.”
When you’re silent, he continues after a deep breath. “After I became alpha, my ruts became different. They’re a day longer and it’s pretty continuous. Most females have their heats around the same time so it’s easy to keep up with regular wolves but alphas are much more intense about it. Most females cannot handle it.”
“What else is different?”
Chris flushes and looks down at his hands, “only alphas have knots and the sizing is increased slightly to produce and ejaculate more seed.”
You nod slowly, starting to understand.” So the knots are?”
“Plugs. They start growing at arousal and right before climax, if an alpha can get the female to agree, he will get the knot into her before it swells completely. It is locking them together for an extended period of time to ensure the seed is properly absorbed into the womb. Usually, the female heats during ovulation periods so it does end in a successful pregnancy.”
You’ve tilted your head and have been nodding with everything he is saying. “That is so interesting. I had no idea that was even a thing.”
“Shifters are still relatively unknown to human kind. Vampires came out of the dark and some other things followed but shifters like to stick to the privacy of their own kind.”
“So why me, then?”
Chris looks up at you, only seeing curiosity. “I’m not entirely sure. The pack’s theory is that you offered unquestionable devotion. After I found you, you made your way back to me, even if it was unintentional.”
“So, have you been with anyone else during your ruts? Before we happened?”
He reaches out and touches your ankle, sliding his thumb over the delicate bone, just needing to touch you. “I had one of the guys lock me in the basement of the alpha house during the first rut after I dropped you off at the ranger station when you deemed yourself ready to return to the city.”
“You have been going to the reservation and getting yourself locked in a basement for the last almost 12 months?”
He nods. “ I only wanted you.”
Your heart flutters and you smile warmly at him, reaching up to cup his cheek. He nuzzles into your palm and places a gentle kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. “So you’ve never tried with a human?”
Chris shakes his head and leans his head back against the arm curled under his head. “Never. You would be my first, if I allow it.” He stops you before you can disagree. “Your skeletal system is slightly weaker than a wolf’s, baby girl. If I move you too roughly, I could break something. If I press too hard in the wrong place, I could kill you. During those days, the wolf is the one entirely in control.”
“To breed a new generation.” Your voice is soft and Chris can’t help but notice the subtle shift in your thighs under the covers, the scent of your arousal stirring his own.
A low growl rolls through his chest as he closes his eyes and lays back completely, facing the ceiling. “You’re not supposed to be turned on. You’re supposed to be nervous.”
“I trust you with my life. I have shown you that time and time again. I know you used to come curl up either under the window or at the foot of the bed in your wolf form.” You crawl down to straddle him, settling your weight over the thick, pulsing outline of his cock. “You won’t hurt me baby.”
Chris groans when your hips rock against his, “you’ll be the death of me, baby girl.”
“Then I’ll be right beside you, my love.” You lean down and press your lips to his.
That is how you ended up here, running through the forest towards your cabin located in the north east side of Horizon Forest.
Chris was once again going to get himself “locked” in the basement. This time there are no locked doors, Changbin chained him to the wall instead. Mostly just to give you as much time as you needed to run around the forest before he can get out and start the hunt.
You spent all day walking around the Forest. From the cabin, to the ranger station, then to some of your favorite spots. As night fell, your anticipation grew but so did your excitement. You took the truck to the edge of the pack’s land and checked your map once more. This was very thought out on your part, Chris didn’t want to know in hopes of making the chanse that more fun for him as well.
You were headed to the first “check point” on your maps when you heard another howl, closer this time. You knew he would find you but you wanted to make it difficult. Make him earn the frenzied sex he was going to give you. Stopping for a moment, you remove your shoes, socks, and jacket. They each get tossed as hard as you can into different directions. Satisfied, you take off into a thicket of tall bushes, knowing there are trees you can climb on the other side.
There are no thorns you have to worry about as you pick your way through. You freeze, hoping to pick up another howl or something to indicate where Chris is. An annoyed snarl rips through the air from behind you. He’s at the crossroads you tossed your decoys at.
Across the clearing, you see the giant maple tree. The one you need to get into to hopefully throw him off. The scent of that tree might mask yours enough to grant you a little more time to confuse him.
Another snarl comes from behind you and you hear him breaking through the brush.
“Fuck.” You take off across the clearing, trying to get to the tree as fast as possible.
Instead you make it to the first tree and you throw yourself around it just as he stops still hidden within the thicket. He’s tracking you, trying to decide where you went. You breathe as quietly as you can, trying to calm your racing heartbeat, knowing he can hear it but not sure which direction it is coming from.
After standing still for a few minutes, you decide to make a move. Just as you crouch down to head to the next shelter tree a couple yards away, your knees crack. You curse and Chris howls, finally knowing the direction you went.
You sprint through the trees, not caring if he can see you. All you can do is put as much space between you before he inevitably catches you. Aside from your panting, you hear the powerful footfalls of the alpha wolf from behind you.
Chris told you he was fast but you didn’t expect this.
At the last minute, you decide to change direction, one last time. This direction will lead you to a meadow of soft grass and wildflowers. The grass might be tall enough to hide if you can get to it before he does.
His snarl as you leave his line of sight once again makes you smirk. You were never athletic but being with Chris has helped your stamina, in more ways than one. For this game, you’ll be damned if you don’t give it your all. You have to assume he isn’t hunting you at full power and knowing that he is playing with you as much as you are makes you excited.
As soon as you make it to the grass, you zig and zag through it before eventually stopping and crouching down, trying to remain still, letting the tall blade of grass settle around you. Your forehead goes to your knees as you force your breathing to slow.
Your ears pick up on the sound of the grass parting, he’s close again. Knowing it is futile, you’re up and running again as fast as you can. Managing to make it a few more yards, you soon feel arms wrap tightly around your waist and you’re pulled to the ground.
The pair of you roll through the grass and onto the bed of wild flowers, Chris ending up above you. His face is flushed, his body running warmer than usual, he’s breathing heavily, and his usually amber eyes are black as the night around you. His smirk is wicked, his bangs falling into his eyes as he gazes down at you.
You feel the sweat of exertion trickling down your temples, there are leaves in your hair, and you know you look a little crazed but you smile up at your husband. “You caught me.”
“You and I both knew I would.” His voice is rough from his pleas and shouts at you before his wolf takes over.
Chris is naked between your legs and you can feel the full, hard weight of him pressing against your leggings. His nose finds yours to nuzzle softly before he captures your lips in a searing kiss. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck but he quickly grabs each wrist in one of his hands, pinning them above your head. When you gasp, he takes the chance to slip his tongue between your lips to roll against yours just as he grinds his hips down.
The searing heat of his cock pressing against you makes you whimper and wrap your legs around his waist, moving your hips with his. It’s filthy and uncoordinated as he thrusts against you, the friction against his weeping cock making him growl into the kiss. Each snap sends his shaft dragging over your clit and you feel how ruined your panties and leggings are. Not just from your arousal but from his cock leaking against you as well.
You’re both now just openly panting into each other’s mouths, his free hand shifting down and you soon feel the cool spring air on your slick and swollen pussy. You arch up, trying to get closer, aching for him.
“Chris, please,”
He groans as his cock slips between your folds and whimpers as his head drops to your shoulder. “Begging for me already?” You whimper and try to press yourself up to him. “Let me stretch you baby girl. I gotta make sure this pussy is ready before I take you.”
Nodding slowly, you force yourself to relax. The smile Chris gives you as a reward makes you clench around nothing. It’s full of teeth and you know he’s doing this for you because once that moon is at its peak in the sky, things will change. He’ll still be human but his wolf will control things, making Chris basically a mindless, breeding machine.
“That’s my good girl. Relax and let me take care of you. The quicker I can loosen you up, the sooner you’re taking my cock.” He’s released your hands now, fully ripping your leggings off, gazing down at your swollen folds. “Goddamn, I need you to cum on my tongue.”
His nose drags over your neck, while his hips return to their relentless grind against yours, making you drip into the forest floor beneath you. “You smell so fucking good, baby girl.”
“Baby, please, I need you.” Your whimper breaks off, the ache of emptiness making your voice waver. “I need something.”
His lips are at your neck, kissing over the mate mark he gave you the night of your wedding. The perfect half moon bite mark that Hyunjin tattooed to make sure it remained. Chris had to be removed from the Forest entirely while it was happening.
“Fuck, when you beg for me so prettily, it makes it hard to say no.”
You feel like you could cry. The pulse in your core and the feeling of having his cock so close to where you crave it but the relentless teasing is driving you crazy. Your fingers lace into your hair, trying to ground yourself as Chris growls and shoves down your body.
He heaves your legs over his shoulders and gives you no warning before he drives in, licking a broad stripe up your slit. The groan that escapes him at your taste causes you to gasp, it sounds painful and that is when you realize he is trembling between your legs.
Quickly he makes a drooling mess of your core and all you can do is hold on, loving the way he’s spread you open, his thumbs spreading your lips as his tongue fucks itself into you. Every so often he slurps your essence loudly and shakes his head from side to side, stimulating your clit with his nose. It is so obscenely messy but you love every second of it, your soaked pussy adding to the mess.
Your hands reach down and thread into his hair as your back arches off the forest floor. He growls and shoves his tongue noisily in and out of you, still slurping anything that leaks from you.
“Chris! I’m-,”
“Cum.” It’s a growled command of a voice that doesn’t sound like Chris and it makes your hair stand on end.
His wolf has come to play.
The way the tongue flattens and focuses on your clit as he tests your entrance. One finger, followed by a second, then easily followed by a third. With his fingers stretching you, his tongue laps at your clit in long, languid licks. You grind against his tongue trying to get more friction. You feel the stretch as his pinky lips are in, giving you the fullest stretch to make sure you take his cock with little to no pain, for the most part.
“Baby, oh my god!” You’re sitting up now, one hand braced on the ground behind you, the other still in his hair as you roll your hips against his face.
His fingers are moving at the angle he knows will devastate your gspot and within seconds he has his fingers battering the sensitive deep spot. You can hardly breathe with how quickly he is sending you up the climb to your climax and you can feel that release building.
“Give me.” His voice is fully animalistic now, deeper and rougher as he watches his fingers drive you to your release. He leans in and sucks on your clit holding it between his lips as his tongue teases it slowly.
“Chris! Oh my god, oh my god!” You’re screaming as your climax hits you like a freight train.
“Yes,” Chris stares as your release squirts out of you, covering his wrist, his chin and neck. “Yes,” his groans rumble against your skin as he licks you slowly through it, twisting his fingers in and out of you.
When his fingers slip from you, he groans and lays his tongue flat against your entrance and licks hard to “clean” you off. “So sweet, my mate.” He sits up, pulling you onto his thighs and kisses you, not shying away from letting you taste yourself on his lips.
Moaning into the kiss, you slide one of your hands over his shoulders and the other down until it meets with the swollen bulb at the base of his cock. He whimpers as his hips fuck into your hand, desperate for a release. You feel hot drops of liquid that have leaked from the beautifully swollen head and land in your palm as you drag your hand up the throbbing shaft.
“Flip me over and fuck me, alpha.” You whisper against his lips and Chris snarls, his cock throbbing and growing in your hand.
The rut is in full effect now.
Quickly, he has you on your knees, your chest pressed into the cool earth. Your spine is arched and your legs are spread enough for him to have a perfect, unobstructed view of your glistening sex. A sick smirk is on his lips as he watches your pussy literally drip onto the ground for him. He moves to his knees behind you, dragging his cock through the wetness that is still leaking from you, coating himself in you.
Leaning his chest along your back, a gentle kiss comes to your shoulder and to the side of your head. “I love you so much, baby girl. Tell me if it’s too much. I’ll try my hardest to reign it in.”
You smile and tilt your head to softly press yours to his, “I’m going to be fine, baby. Now please give us both what we have been waiting for.”
“As you wish, my beautiful, brave mate.” He places another soft kiss to your head as one hand guides his cock into you, groaning as he feels your slick, tight heat sucking him deeper. “Fuck, even your pussy is begging for me to breed you.”
You whimper and nod, “yes baby. Knot me, breed me.”
Chris whines and drops his head to rest on your spine between your shoulders. Even after taking his fingers with ease, he knew his cock was still going to be a challenge. During the week of his rut, his cock always hung heavier, sat taller, stretched thicker.
You clench around him once the burn gets almost unbearable, causing his hips to stop. A soft whimper leaves you as his hips gently roll, continuing to sink himself deeper, forcing your walls to stretch for him.
His fingers circle your swollen clit slowly, making you gasp and rock back to his cock. Your legs spread on their own, as you arch more and press back, trying to take more of him in. Chris groans and manages to slip his cock deeper into you. Your pussy is soaking his cock, mixing with the thick beads of his own precum as he finally manages to shove the last few inches into you.
You moan loudly, feeling the pressure of his knot against your entrance, the bulbous head of his cock grinding against your gspot with each shallow thrust he makes. The sight of his swollen knot pressing against your beautiful stretched walls makes a growl leave Chris.
“Mine.” You shift, trying to move onto your hands but Chris growls and his hand finds the back of your neck pressing enough to keep your chest to the ground as the other holds your hip in a bruising grip. Satisfied you won’t move, his hips start trusting, devastating you almost instantly.
“Oh fuck, Chris,” you whimper as the sensations threaten to overwhelm you. Each thrust has him against the deepest parts of you but still stimulating the spongy spot he can find with his eyes closed. The stretch that his shaft forced on your walls makes them feel extra sensitive to him so within moments you’re a whimpering and moaning mess, crying into the Forest floor.
The sounds that pass between the two of you are feral and down right cause for concern if anyone were to stumble across you. His hips are slamming into your ass, the skin on skin bouncing off the trees. The wet sound of your pussy sucking his cock in deeper as you drip down his shaft. Your cries of pleasure as he forces your body to feel pleasure you have never known before. His growls and groans as he ruts into you with the sole purpose of putting a new generation of wolf into you.
“Chris!” You go to slide your hand under you but his hands move to grab both of yours, pinning you to the forest floor beneath him. The weight of him pushing you flat to your stomach as well. You are at his mercy and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Releasing his white knuckle grip on your wrists, his fingers shift so he can lace them with yours. The simple intimate act makes your heart swell and you squeeze his hand softly. “That’s it baby, you’re making me feel so fucking good.”
His whimper resonates against your neck as his teeth scrape the skin softly. His hips have slowed down but the force of his thrusts have not eased. “All mine.” He licks over the mate mark before he bites down.
You cry out his name just as he groans, feeling your walls clamp down around him. He releases your neck and licks over the fresh bite marks slowly, his hips starting a slow, deep grind into you. He’s getting close and you can feel how his cock is swelling, the knot pulsing hotly against your entrance.
“Chris, make me cum baby. It’ll make it so easy for you to knot me. For you to breed me, please.” You whimper before moaning loudly as Chris releases one of your hands and moves it so his fingers expertly circle your clit while stimulating your gspot with every thrust.
His deep growls rumble through his chest to vibrate against your back as he snaps his hips harder. With the way he is slamming his cock against your cervix and the tight circles he makes on your clit, your orgasm slams into you without much more warning.
Your scream of his name echoes through the forest as your walls clamp down around his shaft, your release flooding the ground below you and dripping over your thighs. Your body heaves with your breaths, struggling with the weight of the man above you.
Chris lifts his weight off of your back as he feels you struggle to get air, his palms resting on either side of your head as his knees rest on either side of your hips. With each deep grind, he continues to fill you, groaning when he feels your falls fluttering and clutching him.
Behind you, Chris’s hips start to stutter and he whimpers lowly, forehead dipping to rest against your back. “Good girl.”
“Oh fuck, Chris.” You raise to your elbows, moving your hair to one side, showing your mate mark which he instantly leans forward and latches onto, sucking and licking over the mark. “Mmm, open my legs baby.”
He growls, not wanting to stop his climb to his orgasm but deep inside his wolf brain, your husband knows you’re right. Without withdrawing from you, he shifts to move your legs, one at a time from between his legs. From here, he gets you both up on your knees.
The pace Chris sets rewards him with more of your slick dripping down his shaft and over his thighs as he slams into your gspot. It only takes a couple more thrusts and Chris slides his hands down to cup your mound, holding you against him.
“Keep being my good girl and take it.” His hips press him deep, the slow deep stretch filling you deliciously. You feel him grind deeper, almost impossibly so but then comes the resistance.
His knot.
His fingers work your clit to help you relax as Chris continues to thrust his release deeper into you. Gentle lips find the side of your head as you moan and dip your hips and press back, trying to aid him. “Relax for me, baby girl. You’ve done so good for me.” With his soft words, you nod and take a breath to relax. Your thighs are still twitching from your orgasm.
Then you feel it. His hand on your hip guides you back as he slowly rolls it hips in. He roars into the night as his orgasm finds him. The immense pressure and what feels like a “pop” as his knot finally sinks into you.
Chris groans heavily as his orgasm reaches a second peak, flooding you with more of his release. He holds you to him by the hand on your mound and rocks himself deeper into you, fully sealing his knot into you. The other hand moves up to cup your throat softly, pulling you onto his thighs when he sits back on his haunches, sinking you deeper onto him.
“Fucking take it, my perfect mate.” He growls against your ear as your pussy flutters around him. “Cum.” His fingers are drawing lazy circles on your clit.
You’re stretched fuller than you ever have been before but you have also never felt better. His fingers circling your clit as the hand on your throat plays with your breath, making you feel deliciously light headed.
And the way his cock is pressing everywhere inside of you, rubbing every spot, even the ones you didn’t know about, when he commands you to cum, it takes no time for you to soak him once again.
The hand on your throat is tight enough that your scream is silenced but that just adds to the pleasure coursing through your body. Chris releases your throat and slows his fingers on your clit to help you ride your climax out, his lips on your mate mark once again.
Slowly, you sink back into him, letting his arms support you. He chuckles softly and presses you tightly to his chest as he shifts to lay you both on your sides. “We’re going to be here a while.”
You nod and rest your head on his bicep, noticing his body has cooled slightly. He’s still incredibly warm but it seems like the height of the rut for the moment has passed. His arm draped over you keeps you plenty warm as you relax in the clearing of soft grass and wild flowers.
“You did so good for me, baby girl.” His voice is soft as his lips press to the back of your head. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, baby.” It’s then you notice his arm is resting below your navel, where your womb is currently flooded with his seed. “Do you think it’ll take?”
“Even if it takes a few moon cycles for your ovulation to sync up with the rut, I don’t mind practicing.” You giggle tiredly and Chris groans as your walls clench and release around him. “You’re going to kill me, woman.” His nose nuzzles into the spot behind your ear where your scent is the most potent. He already knows it will not take.
Not this time.
Your fingers lace with his where they rest on your stomach, a warm, soft smile on your lips that you know he can feel more than see. “I’ll be right beside you, husband.”
୨୧ cw:
Mature 18+, established relationship fluff, heavy teasing, intense dirty talk (both ways), physical intimacy, shower proximity, mild alcohol consumption, smut, and highly suggestive behavior.
୨୧ synopsis:
After months of grueling schedules, Bang Chan finally gets forty-eight hours off to entirely lose himself in the domestic comfort and fiery passion of his three-year relationship. When a sudden rainstorm traps them inside, a fancy date night dissolves into kitchen counters, candlelit teasing, and an unforgettable night that leaves them more deeply in love than ever.
The front door of your apartment didn’t just open; it practically groaned under the weight of Christopher surrendering to gravity.
For three months, you had loved a ghost. You had loved a voice through FaceTime at 4:00 AM, a frantic text sent from a studio which was across the sea, a blurry selfie of a tired smile in a recording studio. But when the lock clicked and the heavy wooden door swung inward, the idol persona vanished. He dropped his duffel bag onto the hardwood with a dull thud, not even bothering to kick off his sneakers before his eyes found yours.
"Come here," he breathed. His voice was raw, a low gravelly thing scraped raw from flights and rehearsals.
You didn't even have time to cross the kitchen before he closed the distance. Chan didn’t just hug you; he consumed you. His large, calloused hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly off your feet until your legs automatically wrapped around his waist. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling so deeply against your skin it felt like he was trying to memorize your scent all over again. He smelled like airport air, expensive cologne, and the distinct, comforting warmth that was just him.
"Three years," he muttered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your ear as he swayed you slightly, his chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged sighs. "Three years of this, and I still feel like I’m dying every time I have to leave you.... God, you’re so warm." he snuggles closer
"You're late," you whispered, though your fingers were already tangled deep in his messy, unstyled curls, pressing him closer.
"Traffic was hell, baby," he mumbled, a soft laugh vibrating against your collarbone. He set you down slowly, though his hands stayed firmly anchored to your hips, his thumbs rubbing small, possessive circles through the fabric of your shirt. His dimples finally peeked out, shadowed by a faint, attractive hint of stubble. "But I am entirely yours for the next forty-eight hours. No phones. No managers. Just you."
Before you could answer, his eyes scanned the living room, noticing the baskets of laundry you’d piled up and the slight clutter on the coffee table. You’d been working overtime too, trying to clear your own schedule so you could match his.
"Tell you what," Chan said, a mischievous glint cutting through the exhaustion in his dark eyes. "We do a quick reset. We clear the space, clear our heads, and then..." He leaned down, his lips brushing yours so lightly it was agonizing. "...we don't leave the house until Monday..except the date tonight, i made reservations..." you nodded kissing his cheek a unsaid 'thenks baby' in return.
The next hour was a whirlwind of domestic chaos. Chan refused to let you be more than three feet away from him. When you went to fold the laundry, he took the other side of the sheets, turning it into a game of tug-of-war until you were both laughing so hard your chest ached. When you reached up to dust the top of the bookshelf, two large hands suddenly clamped around your waist, lifting you into the air like you weighed nothing.
"Chan! Put me down, I'm going to drop the cloth!" you gasped, your fingers gripping his broad shoulders for balance.
"Nah, you're doing great up there, sweetheart. Keep going," he teased, looking up at you with a cheeky, upturned grin, his bicep flexing hard against your thigh to keep you steady. He kissed your waist line through your sweatpants before finally sliding you back down his front, letting every inch of his body friction against yours on the way down.
By the time the apartment was spotless, a light sweat had broken out over your skin, your hair tied up in a messy, loose bun. Chan was leaning against the kitchen counter, his oversized black hoodie pushed up to his elbows, revealing the thick veins and pale skin of his forearms. He was watching you, his gaze heavy and unblinking.
"I need a shower," you muttered, wiping a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "I'm gross."
"Me too," Chan said instantly.
You rolled your eyes, turning toward the bathroom. "The shower is barely big enough for one person, Chris. Go use the guest one."
You walked into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and letting the steam slowly fill the small, tiled space. You peeled off your clothes, stepping into the spraying warmth, sighing as the tension of the last few weeks began to melt off your shoulders.
You’d barely finished rinsing your face when the bathroom door clicked open. Through the frosted glass of the shower door, you saw his tall, broad silhouette strip down without a shred of hesitation. The door slid open, a blast of cooler air hitting your skin before Chan stepped inside, immediately closing the space between you.
The shower was small. With Chan’s massive chest and broad shoulders inside, the world shrank until there was nothing but the sound of rushing water and his heat.
"I told you to use the other one," you complained weakly, though you didn't step back.
"Save water, love. It's the right thing to do," he murmured in that thick, sleepy Australian drawl he only used when he was completely relaxed. He took the bottle of shampoo from the ledge, pouring it into his palms before reaching out. His large hands slid into your wet hair, his thumbs massaging your scalp with an agonizingly perfect pressure.
You let your head drop back against his chest with a soft groan, your eyes fluttering shut. "Okay, fine. You can stay."
"Thought so," he whispered. His hands moved down from your hair, his soapy fingers tracing the column of your neck, sliding over your shoulders. But as his hands moved lower, the domestic sweetness in the air began to shift. The water slicked his dark hair back, exposing the sharp, lethal line of his jawline. His gaze darkened, dropping to your lips.
"You know," Chan murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming rougher, thicker. He stepped closer, his wet chest pressing firmly against your back, pinning you gently against the warm, tiled wall. His hands gripped your hips, his thumbs digging in just enough to make you gasp. "I spent three hours on the plane thinking about how good it was going to feel to have you against these tiles."
A shiver ran down your spine that had nothing to do with the water. You turned around in his grip, your front now pressed against his, your eyes locking onto his. "Oh yeah? Is that all you thought about, Chris?"
Chan leaned down, his nose brushing against yours, his breath hot against your mouth. "No. I thought about how loud you’re gonna be when I finally get inside you. I thought about how much I missed hearing my name slip out of your mouth when you can't take it anymore."
You let out a shaky breath, your hands sliding down his wet chest, your fingers intentionally grazing lower, mapping the hard lines of his abdomen until you felt him twitch against your thigh. He was already rock hard, his heat pressing insistently through the rushing water.
"You talk a big game for someone who looks like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion," you teased, your voice dropping into a low, challenging purr. You arched your hips slightly, deliberately rubbing against him, watching his pupils dilate instantly. "Are you sure you can handle me right now?"
A dark, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His grip on your hips tightened until it almost bruised, lifting you slightly so you had to look up at him. "Don't fucking test me, sweetheart. I might be tired, but I’ve got more than enough energy to ruin you for the rest of the weekend. You think you can handle me when I'm like this? When I’ve been starving for you for months?"
"Prove it then," you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs, your teeth catching your lower lip as you looked at him through wet eyelashes. "Stop talking and do something about it."
Chan let out a low, guttural growl, his forehead leaning against yours as he ground his hips into yours, making you whimper. "Not yet," he growled, his voice pure sin. "I’m gonna make you wait. I’m gonna make you beg for it tonight until your voice is as raw as mine. Now, please help me wash my back, beautiful, before I lose my mind and break my promise."
--
The cool bedroom air hit your damp skin, a stark contrast to the thick, humid fog you’d left behind in the bathroom. True to his word, Chan had kept his hands to himself after that agonizing shower—mostly. He’d given your hips one last, heavy squeeze under the rushing water before turning you around so you coulf wash his back, his low, rumbling chuckles vibrating against your palms every time you intentionally slid your hands a little too low.
Now, the late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long, lazy shadows across the bedroom floor. You stood in front of the vanity mirror, the soft fabric of your outfit draped over the bed behind you. “A proper night out, sweetheart,” he’d murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your wet shoulder before vanishing into his own closet. “Somewhere we can actually sit down, order a nice bottle of wine, and I can look at you without a clock ticking down.”
You chose a dress you knew he loved but rarely got to see you in. It was an elegant, emerald-green silk slip dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, stopping at your mid thighs. The back was entirely open, held together only by a delicate satin lace that required a frustrating amount of patience to tie by yourself.
As you stood there, trying to tie the strap behind, you caught sight of Chan’s reflection in the mirror.
He was leaning against the doorframe, already half-dressed in a pair of sharp, tailored black slacks. His satin ruby dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick veins of his forearms, a ring on his index finger, a silver watch on his wrist and glasses resting on his nose. He was holding a glass of water, but he hadn't taken a sip in minutes. He was just... staring.
His dark eyes traveled down the line of your spine, tracking the smooth expanse of your bare back where the green silk V-ed out. Chan swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. He mentally scolded himself, clenching his jaw as his eyes wandered lower, lingering on the way the silk clung to the curve of your hips. Get a grip, Christopher, he told himself fiercely. You promised her a nice dinner. Don't ruin it before you even make it to the restaurent.
But God, he loved you. It hit him in waves sometimes—not just a flutter in his chest, but a heavy, grounding certainty that settled deep in his bones. Looking at you right now, framed by the warm bedroom light, he didn't see a girlfriend of three years. He saw his future. He saw the woman he wanted to come home to when the stadium lights finally went dark for good. He was absolutely, unconditionally sure he wanted to marry only you.
"Need some help, baby?" his voice broke the quiet, his Australian accent thick and lazy as he set his glass down.
"Please," you sighed, dropping your arms. "This is actively trying to kill me."
Chan walked over, his footsteps soft against the rug. He didn't immediately touch the string. Instead, he leaned down, his warm breath fanning across your shoulder blades just a second before his lips pressed a slow, lingering kiss right between your shoulder blades. A helpless shiver ran through you.
"You look beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his hands finally coming up to gather the delicate satin lace. His fingers were large and calloused, but he handled the thread with an incredible, practiced gentleness. He slowly tied the back of the dress, his knuckles occasionally brushing against your bare skin, sending tiny electric shocks straight down your spine. he dropped another soft kiss—one on your shoulder, one at the base of your neck, another right in the center of your back.
When he finished, he stepped around to face you. His eyes were dark, full of an intensity that made your breath hitch.
"Now for the hard part," you murmured, pointing toward the edge of the bed where your heels were sitting. They were a pair of black, strappy stilettos with long satin ribbons meant to wrap around your ankles.
Without a word, Chan smiled—that soft, dimpled expression that always melted you completely—and knelt down on one knee on the floor right in front of you.
"Chris, you don't have to do that," you protested softly, but he caught your ankle, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin just above your heel.
"Shh. Let me," he whispered, looking up at you through his eyelashes.
You placed your hand on his broad shoulder for balance as he gently guided your foot into the shoe. He took his time, his large fingers carefully wrapping the thin ribbons around your ankle, crisscrossing them perfectly up your lower calf before tying them into a secure bow. He repeated the process with the other foot, his movements almost reverent. Before he stood up, he pressed a warm, lingering kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of pure devotion.
"There," he murmured, standing up and dusting off his slacks. He looked down at you, his hands instantly finding your waist, pulling you an inch closer. "Perfect."
You reached up, fixing the collar of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his jawline. "You clean up pretty well yourself, Mr. Bang."
He laughed, a rich, rumbling sound, and leaned down to press a deep, slow kiss to your lips—one that tasted like a promise.
But just as he pulled away, a sudden, blinding flash of light illuminated the bedroom window, followed less than two seconds later by a deafening clap of thunder that literally shook the floorboards. Within moments, the sky completely opened up, a torrential downpour slamming against the glass so loudly it sounded like pebbles thrown against the pane.
Chan blinked, turning his head toward the window, then looked back down at your stunning dress and your perfectly laced heels.
"Well," he muttered, a wry, amused smile spreading across his face as the wind howled outside. "I reckun our reservations and plans are officially ruined."
The howling wind outside slammed sheets of water against the glass, but inside the apartment, the atmosphere had shifted into something entirely separate from the storm.
Chan looked from the window back to you, a soft, helpless laugh huffing from his lips as he took in the sight of you. You were still standing there in your stunning emerald silk dress and wrapped stilettos, looking like an absolute goddess with nowhere to go.
"Well, sweetheart," he murmured, his hands sliding down to your hips, his thumbs catching the hem of your dress just enough to lift it an inch. "I'm not letting this outfit go to waste. Change of plans."
Before you could ask what he meant, Chan hooked his hands under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly off your feet. You let out a gasped laugh, your hands instantly flying to his broad shoulders for balance as he carried you out of the bedroom and straight into the kitchen. He didn't set you down on the floor; instead, he hoisted you right up onto the smooth, marble kitchen counter. Your heels clicked against the edge, your legs dangling as he stepped between your knees, effectively trapping you.
"Stay right here," he commanded softly, his voice dropping into that low, authoritative register that always made your stomach do a flip.
You watched, completely mesmerized, as Chan went to work. He completely transformed the room. He turned off the harsh overhead kitchen lights, leaving only the soft under-cabinet lighting. Then, he wandered around the apartment, gathering every single scented candle you owned. He lined them up along the counter and the dining table, striking a match until the space was bathed in a flickering, amber glow. The shadows danced over the sharp lines of his jaw and his tailored black slacks.
"Since I can't take you to a restaurant, I guess I'll just have to be your personal chef," he teased, walking back over to you and leaning in to press a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. He smelled like vanilla candles and pure sin.
He pulled ingredients out of the fridge, deciding on a quick pasta dish you both loved. As he chopped garlic and heated the pan, he refused to actually leave your side. Every single time he passed the counter, he stole a kiss. It started out playful, but it didn't stay that way. He’d lean in, his lips brushing yours, his tongue casually tracing your bottom lip just enough to make you whimper before he pulled back with a smirk.
"Chris, you're going to burn the food if you keep doing that," you breathlessy complained.
"Let it burn," he muttered, stepping right back into your space. He reached out, his large, warm hand sliding up your thigh, his calloused thumb smoothing over the skin right above your knee. "Besides, I'm just tasting the appetizer."
You flushed, a heavy heat pooling in your lower stomach at his subtle dirty talk. To distract yourself from the way his hand was slowly wandering higher up your leg, you slid off the counter for a moment. "If you're cooking, I'm making drinks. You're lucky you're dating a professional."
Chan chuckled, watching you walk over to the bar cart. Before you had met him —back during your university days—you had worked as a bartender to pay the rent. You grabbed the shaker, the alcohol, and the bitters, your hands moving with an effortless, practiced rhythm. You mixed up two custom cocktails, keeping the alcohol content perfectly manageable since you both wanted to actually remember the night.
When you handed him his glass, his eyes darkened with pure appreciation. He took a sip, humming in approval. "God, you're amazing. Seriously, what did I do to deserve you?"
He didn't let you go back to the counter. Instead, he pulled you against his chest, his back to the stove while he stirred the sauce with one hand and kept his other arm wrapped securely around your waist. The warmth of the stove combined with the heat of his body was intoxicating.
As you stood there, the flickering candlelight caught the slight dip of your collarbone and the soft curve of your side. You subconsciously shifted, trying to pull the silk dress tighter. Like anyone, you had your little insecurities—things you picked apart when you looked in the mirror too long.
But Chan noticed everything. He always did.
Feeling you tense, he set the wooden spoon down. He turned you around completely, his hands mapping the exact spots you tried to hide. He bent down, pressing his warm lips to the soft curve of your hip, then up to the slight dip of your waist, kissing every single inch of your skin with a fierce, worshipful reverence.
"Stop hiding," he whispered against your skin, his voice rough and thick. "You are so beautiful. Every single part of you. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes just for one second."
He pulled you back up, his hands tangling in your hair as he kissed you deeply, a quiet sigh escaping him. He rested his forehead against yours, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence.
"It's crazy, isn't it?" Chan murmured softly, a sudden, gentle giggle bubbling up from his chest. He looked down at you, his dimples cutting deep into his cheeks. "How unexpected all of this was. If you told me four years ago that we'd be here..."
"What, you didn't think we'd make it?" you teased, tracing the collar of his shirt.
"No, I mean—we were such idiots," he laughed, shaking his head at the memory. "We were literally best friends since child hood who only spoke on calls scared to face each other. I was so completely gone for you, but I was too terrified to say anything......remember how we used to talk to each other? Trying so hard to sound 'just like friends' while my heart was practically beating out of my chest every time you looked at me."
He giggled again, the sound rich and warm. "Man, we were so stupid. All those wasted months because we were both too scared to confess."
His laughter faded, replaced by a gaze so intense it made your knees feel weak. The playful boy vanished, leaving only the man who loved you entirely. He leaned down, his lips brushing yours with a slow, heavy finality.
"But I’m glad we got here," Chan whispered, his thumbs wiping a stray tear of happiness from your cheek. "Because now that I have you... I want no one else. Forever. It's only ever gonna be you, sweetheart."
The sheer intensity of his words left you breathless. You reached up, cupping his jawline, and pulled him down into a deep, lingering kiss that tasted like a silent promise. When you finally broke away, your cheeks were flushed against the warm candlelight.
"If you don't stop looking at me like that, we're never going to actually eat," you teased softly, playfully swatting his chest.
Chan let out a breathless laugh, stepping back just enough to let you move around the kitchen. The menu had completely evolved from just a simple pasta dish into an absolute feast. Together, you turned cooking into a coordinated dance. You rolled out dough to make a heart-shaped pizza—Chan insisting on crimping the edges perfectly—while a golden, seasoned chicken roasted in the oven alongside a crisp, fresh salad you tossed together.
By the time the food was ready, the apartment smelled incredible. You carried the plates over to the candlelit dining table, the heavy rain outside providing a soothing backdrop to your makeshift indoor date.
As you ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from lighthearted banter into the deep, heavy layers of life and the future. Chan reached across the table, his fingers tangling with yours, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.
"I want to grow old with you," he murmured, his dark eyes reflecting the tiny flames of the candles. "I want the quiet mornings, the wrinkly skin, all of it."
You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest. "I want that too. And... I want a kid. Eventually."
Chan’s face instantly softened, a massive, genuine smile breaking across his features, making his dimples dip incredibly deep.
"I’d love a daughter," you admitted softly, feeling a bit shy but completely safe sharing it with him. "But honestly, it doesn't matter to me. As long as the kid is healthy."
"A little girl who looks just like you?" Chan breathed, his gaze turning incredibly fond. "God, I'd be wrapped around her finger. But you're right. Just healthy." He leaned forward, his voice dropping into a tone of absolute certainty. "I want to marry you first. I want to roam the world with you, make a million memories, and establish our own rules. Like, if we ever have a huge fight—because we're human, we will—we promise to sort it out before we ever go to bed. No sleeping angry."
"Deal," you whispered, your heart swelling.
"And we need a bigger place," he continued excitedly, his inner producer and planner taking over. "We'll design it together. A massive bar for you, a studio space for me, and a huge backyard." He smiled, leaning over to lovingly serve another portion of pasta onto your plate.
As the dinner wound down and the plates were cleared, you still wanted something sweet. You walked over to the freezer and scooped a generous portion of vanilla ice cream into a small bowl. Instead of heading back to your own seat, you walked over to Chan, pulling him back into his chair by his shoulders.
Without asking, you turned and sank right onto his lap facing him, your emerald silk dress pooling over his tailored black slacks. Chan didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second; his large hands immediately found your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh gently as you settled against him.
"Sharing?" he grinned, his voice a low rumble against your lips.
"Maybe," you murmured, taking a bite of the cold ice cream before offering him some. As you pulled the spoon away, a tiny bit of ice cream lingered on your bottom lip. Chan leaned in instantly, his tongue darting out to lick the sweet cream right off your lips, his lips lingering for a soft, teasing pressure that made your stomach drop.
His hands wandered a little higher on your thighs, his grip firm and possessive, anchoring you tightly to his lap. You took another bite, but the combination of his warmth, the alcohol from the cocktails, and the sheer tension in the air made your hands a little unsteady. A drop of the rapidly melting ice cream escaped the spoon, trailing down your chin and slipping right down the column of your neck, disappearing beneath the neckline of your green dress.
You both knew how gravity worked. You both knew food didn't just magically spill like that unless a certain someone was plotting something entirely deliberate.
Chan caught it instantly. A dark, wicked grin spread across his face, his eyes darkening into pure, unadulterated hunger.
"Oh, you are a menace," he growled softly, the teasing Australian lilt completely vanishing into something raw and dominant.
He didn't grab a napkin. Instead, Chan leaned forward, his large hand gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head back. He pressed his lips to the base of your throat, his warm tongue sliding upward, licking the melted ice cream off your sensitive skin. A sharp, gasping whimper left your lips as he followed the path with a sequence of open-mouthed, bruising kisses, his teeth gently nipping at the junction where your neck met your shoulder.
The cold sweetness of the ice cream was completely eradicated by the scorching heat of his mouth.
Realizing you were entirely finished with desert, you blindly reached back and set the bowl away on the table behind you. You let your head fall back completely against his broad shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as his hands tightened on your thighs, his breath hot and demanding against your skin
Without a word, he hooked both hands under your knees, lifting you effortlessly along with himself off the dining chair, your legs wrapping around his waist. You gasped, both hands flying to his shoulders as he carried you through the candlelit living room toward the hallway.
"Chan—the ice cream—" you protested weakly, laughter bubbling in your throat... this was trouble, a likeable trouble.
"I'll get it later," he growled against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Right now, I'm starving for something else."
He pushed the bedroom door open, and the soft lamplight spilled across the rumpled sheets. He didn't put you down. Instead, he pressed you against the doorjamb, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss so deep and hungry that your toes curled inside your heels. His tongue slid along your bottom lip, then swept inside, tasting the lingering sweetness of vanilla and chocolate. You melted into him, your fingers threading into the short hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.
He carried you to the bed, but before laying you down, he paused, letting you slide down his body until your feet touched the floor. His hands roamed your back, the bare skin of your backless dress heating under his palms. You tilted your head, meeting his gaze, and then leaned in to press your lips to the side of his neck.
Soft at first—a barely-there brush of your mouth. Then you parted your lips, grazing your teeth over his pulse point, and sucked gently. Chan's breath hitched, his fingers digging into your hips. You lingered there, tasting the salt of his skin, knowing you had to be careful. His fans would notice. They always noticed everything—a hickey on his neck during a live broadcast would send the internet into a frenzy. So you pulled back, leaving only a faint pink mark, barely visible unless you were looking for it.
He looked down at you, his eyes dark and knowing. "Tease," he murmured, but there was nothing but approval in his voice.
His hand found the thin satin lace-up at the back of your dress. With a slow, deliberate tug, the bow unraveled, and the fabric loosened around your chest. He didn't rush. He slid the straps down your shoulders, the emerald silk pooling at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your strapless stick-on bra, black lace panties, and heels.
He stepped back just long enough to shrug off his black button-up, his fingers working the buttons with practiced ease. The shirt fell open, revealing the defined lines of his chest and his toned abs. You didn't wait. You stepped forward, your hands sliding up his abdomen, feeling the ridges of muscle flex under your touch. You pressed your lips to his sternum, then lower, kissing a path down his stomach. Your tongue darted out, licking a stripe across his abs, tasting the faint salt and heat of his skin. You sucked gently at the hollow beside his navel, and he groaned, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head.
"Fuck, baby," he breathed, his fingers tangling in your hair. "You're gonna make me lose it."
You looked up at him, a wicked smile on your lips, and continued your journey lower, your mouth trailing over the waistband of his slacks. But he stopped you, gripping your chin and tilting your face up.
"Not yet," he said, his voice roughened with want. "I want to taste you first."
His gaze dropped to your chest, where the stick-on bra held your breasts in place. A knowing grin spread across his face. "No straps," he observed, his thumb brushing the edge of the adhesive cup. "Clever."
He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours—a silent question that he never needed to ask out loud. You nodded, a soft "yes" escaping your lips.
He pulled the bra away in one smooth motion, the adhesive releasing with a quiet peel. Your breasts spilled free, nipples already peaked from the cool air and the heat of his stare. He didn't look away. He leaned in, his tongue flicking over one nipple, then drawing it into his mouth, sucking gently. You gasped, your back arching, and your hands flew to his shoulders for balance.
His other hand slid down your stomach, past the waistband of your panties, and between your legs. He groaned against your skin as his fingers found you—soaked, slick, ready.
"Fuck," he muttered, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. "I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already dripping. Is that all for me?"
You bit your lip, nodding, your breath coming in shallow pants.
"Good girl." He pressed a finger inside you, slow, then a second, curling them just right. At the same time, his mouth returned to your nipple, sucking and teasing with his tongue. The dual sensation sent a shock through your body. Your hands fisted in his hair, your hips grinding against his hand, moaning his name like a prayer.
"Chan—please—"
"Please what, baby?" He pumped his fingers faster, his thumb circling your clit with expert pressure. "You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers. Tell me what you need."
You couldn't form words. The pleasure was building too fast, a coil tightening low in your belly. Your thighs trembled, your moans turning into broken cries.
"That's it," he praised, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Let go. Come for me. I want to feel you fall apart on my hand."
And you did. Without warning, the orgasm crashed over you, your body convulsing as you cried out his name. He didn't stop moving his fingers, guiding you through every wave, drinking in the sight of you undone.
When the last tremor faded, he pulled his fingers out slowly, bringing them to his lips. He licked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours. "Delicious."
Then he gently pushed you fully onto the bed, spreading your legs open, and buried his face between them. His tongue swept through your folds, lapping up your release, his nose pressing against your clit. A strangled moan tore from your throat as he devoured you, his tongue dipping inside you, then dragging back up to suck gently on your clit. He worked you with a rhythm that bordered on cruel, prolonging the aftershocks until you were a panting, writhing mess.
Only when your hips stopped bucking did he lift his head. He reached over to the bedside table, pulling open the drawer, and retrieved a foil packet. With a grin, he tore the wrapper open with his teeth, spat it aside, and rolled the condom down his length. Even after all these months, the sight of him—thick, veined, impossibly hard—made your breath catch. He was huge, and no matter how many times you'd had him, it always surprised you. The way he filled you, stretched you, like he was made to fit inside you.
He hauled your legs onto his shoulders, leaning forward until the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. He didn't push in—not yet. He held still, teasing, letting you feel the pressure, the promise.
"Ready?" he asked, his voice soft but dominant.
You nodded, and he thrust forward.
Slow. Deep. Inch by inch he sank into you, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the grip of your walls. You felt the familiar stretch, the slight burn that melted into pure pleasure. He paused when he was fully seated, letting you adjust, his forehead resting against yours.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered. "Every single time."
He began to move—long, languid strokes that hit so deep you could feel him in your throat. One hand held your calf, his lips pressing kisses to your shin, then your ankle, reverent and tender even as he fucked you. His other hand roamed your body, fingers tracing your waist, then sliding up to tease your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.
A glance down and you saw it—a faint bulge in your lower belly, where his dick pressed against your insides from the inside. The sight sent a rush of heat through you. You arched your back, a moan spilling from your lips.
"Look at that," he breathed, his thumb pressing lightly on the bulge. "Look how deep I am inside you. You take me so fucking well, baby."
His pace quickened, but still controlled, each thrust deliberate. Your hands clawed at the sheets, your moans growing louder, more desperate.
"Faster," you begged, your voice cracking. "Please, Chan—faster—"
He obeyed. He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, lifting your hips into the air before slamming back into you. The new angle was brutal—deeper, harder, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. His hand gripped your hip, the other pressed flat on the small of your back, forcing you to arch impossibly deeper.
"This what you wanted?" he growled, his voice low and filthy. "You wanted me to fuck you like this? To take you apart until you can't think, can't breathe?"
"Yes—angh..yes—fuck—chrisss"
He leaned over your back, his mouth at your ear, his thrusts pounding into you. "I can feel you clenching around me. You're close, aren't you? I want you to come. Come on my dick."
You were already there. The rough pace, his dirty talk, the overwhelming fullness—it sent you spiraling. You screamed his name as your orgasm crashed, your body trembling violently around him.
He didn't stop. He rode you through it, his own breathing ragged, until he pulled out with a shudder. He yanked the condom off, stroked himself twice, and came with a guttural groan, spilling into the latex. Then he collapsed beside you, chest heaving.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of ragged breathing. Your body ached in the best way. Chan pushed himself up first, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
"Stay there. I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the bathroom, and you heard the water run. He returned with a warm, damp cloth and gently cleaned between your legs, his touch tender. Then he wiped himself down, disposed of the condom, and slid back into bed.
He pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. His hand found the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles where you'd arched hardest.
"Your back's gonna be sore tomorrow," he murmured into your hair.
You hummed, nuzzling into his neck. Your lips found his, a soft, lazy kiss.
He smiled against your mouth. "I love you so much."
You kissed the tip of his nose. "I love you too."
The marks on your neck were dark now, blooming like violets under your skin. He traced one with his fingertip, a soft chuckle vibrating through his chest.
"Sorry about those."
"I'm not," you whispered, your eyes already heavy.
He pulled the blanket over both of you, his hand never stopping its soothing massage on your back. The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart against your cheek—it pulled you under.
Within minutes, you were both asleep, tangled together in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
--
You woke up slowly, the soft morning light filtering through the cracks of the blinds. As you shifted beneath the heavy duvet, a dull, deep ache resonated through your lower back and thighs—a sweet, lingering reminder of exactly how Chan had kept his promise to ruin you. You sat up slowly, clutching the soft blanket tightly against your chest to keep yourself covered.
A soft chuckle sounded from the side of the bed, and you turned your head to see Chan walking into the room. He had already showered, his messy curls damp, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. In his hands, he carried a tray loaded with a fresh breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and a mug of coffee made exactly the way you liked it.
"Morning, beautiful," he murmured, his voice incredibly deep and raspy from sleep. He set the tray down carefully across your lap, then climbed onto the mattress behind you.
As you reached for the coffee, taking a grateful sip, Chan shifted closer. His large, warm hands slid beneath the blanket, finding the bare skin of your lower back. His calloused thumbs began to work in slow, firm circles, expertly massaging the tight, sore muscles of your spine. You let out a soft, involuntary sigh, leaning back into his solid chest.
"Sore?" he whispered, a hint of a smug, satisfied grin in his voice.
"Shut up," you muttered playfully, though you didn't pull away from his touch.
Chan just laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated right against your back. He leaned over your shoulder, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head before gently reaching up to brush a few stray tangled hairs away from your face. He watched you eat with a quiet, peaceful intensity, as if he still couldn't quite believe he had you all to himself for a little while longer.
You turned your head slightly, catching his eye, and leaned in to press a sweet, lingering kiss right against his dimpled cheek.
Chan’s smile broke wide and brilliant, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners with pure, unadulterated affection. He wrapped his arms securely around your waist, pulling you back against his chest as the quiet morning carried on, the rest of the world completely forgotten.
warnings: unprotected sex; dom!skz; sub!reader; exhibitionism; voyeurism; blindfold; fingering; oral sex (f!receiving); face sitting; light choking; edging; orgasm denial; squirting; praising; spit kink; use of toys; dirty talk; begging; threesome; overstimulation
summary: this started as a challenge for all of the boys to make you come one day. but what if you all added new rules for today's round?
part of the wheel of pleasure series
a/n: THE WHEEL IS BACK MY LOVES 🥳 thank you so much for the love for this series, it makes me really happy seeing you interact with it and send me messages about it 🩷 this time, it's my own take of the fic that inspired this series so go read it if you haven't!! it's who's who? (sex edition) by @ddyskz
a/n2: as always, i wrote this across different nights and i proofread it quickly, so there might be some mistakes and notes to myself that i write while editing (like "change this part" or "add this here" or "continue with this") that i missed, so if you see them... no you didn't (joking 😊)
you’ve played this game before and you’re no longer a stranger to the thrill of it. the boys have always pushed boundaries but this time, they’ve added two new rules for today that make your pulse quicken:
you won't be allowed to come until you correctly guess who’s fucking you
your eyes will stay covered the entire time
the thought alone sends a fresh wave of heat through your core, your cunt getting wet already. outside in the living room, the boys are gathered around that wheel you bought on impulse once you realised this became your thing. you can hear their voices and the occasional spin and click as they add their own filthy ideas to the slots. god knows what they’ve written this time. the idea of not knowing, of being blindfolded and at their mercy while guessing each of them makes your thighs press together instinctively.
you’re standing in front of the mirror, taking in the sight of yourself. the lingerie clings to every curve of your body, the lace barely covering your breasts and the straps framing your hips. your fingers trace along your skin, staring at your collarbone and sliding down feeling goosebumps rising as you imagine their hands replacing yours. your nipples harden against the fabric and you let out a soft breath, close to a moan.
then an idea hits you - a way to turn the tables, to play your own game within theirs. you reach back and unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor before you grab your panties and take them off too. completely naked now, you grab your robe, and tie it loosely around your waist. if they want to control the rules, you’ll match them with your own.
you open the door and leave the room, closing the door behind you. the moment you get to the living room the boys freeze and move quickly to hide the wheel, hiding whatever filthy things they’ve scrawled on it. their eyes rake over you, taking in the robe and how it parts just enough to show a sliver of skin, so short they can see the curves of your thighs.
“are you guys ready?”, you ask them and they reply with a chorus of yeses, “i’ve thought of something today since, you know, you’ve added your own rules and i think it’s only fair that i add my own rules too”
they’re curious instantly, leaning forward, their eyes still locked on you.
“okay, what do you want to add?”, changbin says.
“well, you all seem to really like the sounds i make while i’m in my room, getting fucked by the others”, you say as you watch their reactions, “so i thought that you should get a glimpse of what’s going on too”
some of them catch on immediately - minho’s eyes darken with hunger as his cock visibly twitches in his boxers, chan lets out a low groan as his hand presses against his growing bulge. others simply look confused for a moment, like jeongin whose cheeks flush just from looking at you, or seungmin, whose face seems to be still lost on your thighs.
“we’re gonna do it in the living room today”, you say as you gesture towards the massive sofa you all bought for the dorm, “so that everyone can enjoy the show”
han’s mouth falls open as a “fuck yes” escapes him when he imagines watching you get taken apart right there, felix bites his lips already imagining the view and his hand moves to palm himself. changbin chuckles darkly, muttering something about how filthy this is getting while chan just nods his head with a grin that promises he’ll be front and centre.
“okay”, hyunjin says, “if that’s what you want then we’ll do it that way”
you smirk at him, before speaking again, “perfect, but that was only my first rule”
they look at you, a mix of confusion and hunger as they think about the different possibilities now. but instead of telling them, your fingers move to the belt of your robe and you untie it, letting the fabric fall to the floor, leaving you naked in front of them all, your nipples hard and your cunt already slick and visible as you stand there in front of them.
“before i cover my eyes”, you say, your voice dropping, “you all have to get naked too. now”
they don’t hesitate, not when they are looking at you like that, not when they seem to be under your spell. they move quickly, scrambling to obey you, as their boxers fly and they get completely naked too, the game truly beginning now.
you hum in deep contentment as your eyes sweep over them, taking in the sight of every single one of them. their cocks stand hard and flushed, some already leaking at the tip from the sheer anticipation of what’s about to happen. without another word, you turn and walk towards the table where you left the black silk blindfold before, and you feel their hungry stares follow every movement.
you pick up the smooth fabric, letting it slide through your fingers, and then you walk towards the sofa. the cushions dip as you settle in the middle, spreading your thighs just enough to give them all a teasing glimpse of your already glistening folds before you lift the silk to your eyes. the world goes dark as you tie the blindfold securely behind your head, the knot firm but comfortable.
“i’m ready whenever you are”, you tell them, your voice low and steady as you offer yourself up.
your other senses sharpen immediately and your pulse races, your skin prickling with goosebumps. wetness pools between your legs, your pussy lips swelling and parting with every move you make, your arousal dripping down to the cushion beneath you.
you sit there for a few seconds that stretch into an eternity of waiting, then, you feel the sofa shift as the first one sits with you. his warm breath ghosts over your neck first, followed by the soft press of his lips, kissing you from the sensitive spot below your ear down to the hollow of your throat. he then moves upwards, brushing those same soft lips across your cheek, then the other, before they finally claim your mouth.
the kiss deepens then as your tongues slide together. his hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as the kiss turns filthy, your tongues fighting for dominance and moving into each other’s mouth with growing urgency.
“fuck, look at that”, you hear han saying somewhere in the room, “i don’t know if i’m gonna survive watching this”
“she’s already so wet”, jeongin mutters, and you can hear just how turned on he is right now.
their words wash over you, turning you on even more, as the mystery mouth keeps devouring yours. you bite down on his lower lip, just hard enough to draw a sharp and unmistakable moan from deep in his chest, and you recognise him instantly.
“felix”, you say.
he groans louder, the sound raw and desperate and then he crashes his mouth back onto yours, even hungrier this time. his lips move faster against yours, his teeth biting your lower lip now and his hands start roaming freely now that the guess has been made.
he pushes you backwards onto the sofa, his body following yours down until he’s settled between your spread thighs. his skin presses against yours and his hard cock brushes against your hip as he adjusts his body. one of his hands traces a slow and deliberate path down your body, his fingers skimming over your collarbone before they move to circle each nipple until they ace. then, he slides his hand lower across your stomach until he reaches the apex of your thighs and pauses there.
“f-felix, please”, you say, your voice breaking as your body moves closer to him, “i already guessed… please”
he kisses you again and then his fingers move to trace the puffy lips of your pussy with strokes so light you almost think you’re imagining them. the touch is maddeningly light, circling your entrance without pushing inside, gathering the slick wetness that coats you and spreading it upwards to brush your swollen clit.
“god, y/n, you look so hot like this”, he moans against your lips and you try to answer but the words won’t find you.
you arch into his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he continues teasing you.
“felix, please”, you say again.
two fingers finally part your folds and sink into your tight cunt, and he curls them to stroke that sensitive spot inside you.
“oh, f-fuck, yes. j-just like t-that”, you moan, arching your body towards him even more.
he moves them steadily inside you, as his thumb starts to circle your clit, making your hips buck. you can hear the sounds of his fingers inside you, the wet squelch of his fingers as he works your dripping pussy and your own moans start to get louder.
“jesus christ… we can hear how soaked she is”, hyunjin says as his breath catches, followed by a curse from a voice you don’t recognise, you’re so lost in your own pleasure that everything around you is fading away, moving to a place you can’t reach.
felix adds a third finger in, stretching you as he fucks them in and out of you, moving faster now, his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust. pleasure coils inside you, you’re getting closer now, you were already turned on before you all started, and now having felix like this, with his fingers inside you, your eyes covered, and the knowledge that the others are watching you and getting hard from this just makes you reach your breaking point faster.
“f-felix, i… i-”
“i know. come on, come for me, sunshine, show them how good i’m making you feel with just my fingers”, he says, his lips moving to your neck now, biting there and making you scream louder.
that’s all you need to break and then, your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you.
“felix!”, you scream his name then and that’s when you break.
your body shakes as your pussy pulses and gushes around his fingers, your wetness soaking his hand and the sofa beneath you. he doesn’t stop fingering you, drawing your orgasm with slower and deeper moves until you’re trembling and oversensitive, gasping for air against his skin.
you can hear the boys groanning in the room, their eyes fixed on your quivering body on the sofa. felix’s fingers remain buried inside you, gentle now, as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your parted lips. then he takes his fingers out and you whimper at the loss, trying to close your thighs instinctively, but his body between them won’t let you.
“mmhm”, he moans as he licks his fingers clean, “you taste so good, sweetheart. i can’t believe, this is all ours. you’re ours”
you reach blindly for him, pulling him closer to you as your lips crash together again. your tongues slide together as you explore each other's mouths and then your hand moves down to grab his cock, your fingers wrapping around it - it’s hard, hot and twitching against your palm. he groans into your mouth and his hips buck forward, grinding against your grip in a desperate roll. your thumb catches the precum on his tip and you move it, making the slide slick and filthy as you stroke him from base to tip.
“felix”, you hear minho calling his name from across the room, reminding him of the rules you assume.
felix freezes and then he pulls back just enough to pant against your lips.
“fuck… i can’t do this”, he says, his voice completely hoarse, and when you reach for him again, he catches your wrist, stopping you once more, “i can’t, sunshine… not yet. rules, you know”
with a final whimper from you and a lingering brush of his lips against yours, he moves from you, leaving you aching and empty on the sofa.
you lie there exposed, your thighs still parted from his earlier position and your body still humming from your orgasm. you can hear the low groans of the others and you can feel their eyes devouring every inch of you.
“look at her, she’s dripping everywhere”
“she’s so fucking ready”
you’re still so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t recognise their voices, but just hearing them and knowing they’re waiting for their turn with you while they get to see you breaking apart with the others makes your nipples tighten and fresh wetness seep from your swollen pussy lips onto the sofa once more.
the sofa dips again under new weight and then a different body settles between your spread thighs, his warm skin pressing close to you and his already hard and leaking cock brushing your inner thigh as he lowers himself fully onto you.
he wastes no time and moves straight to your ear, his mouth sucking the lobe between his lips before his teeth graze and bite down just enough to send a jolt straight to your core. you gasp, arching your back as his tongue soothes the sting and then he moves, trailing kisses along your jaw before he moves to your lips, catching your mouth in a hot and fiery kiss.
from there, he descends lower, his lips and tongue mapping a path of fire down your neck and collarbone until he reaches your breasts. he moves to one nipple, sucking hard while his hand cups the other and his thumb flicks it.
“oh g-god, don’t s-stop”, you say, arching your body again.
the wet pull draws another moan from you when he switches side. he bites your nipple and pleasure sparks inside you, pooling heavily in your stomach and making your cunt clench around nothing. he starts moving again, his mouth hot and insistent over the curve of your stomach, nipping at the soft ski there, his tongue dipping into your navel before dragging lower.
finally, he reaches your cunt, spreading your folds with his fingers just enough to expose your slick entrance and swollen clit. a long and slow lick drags from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit, his tongue pressing firmly against every sensitive fold and gathering your arousal in one deliberate stroke.
the sensation rips a long and high groan from your throat, raw and needy, as your hands move to tangle in his hair, gripping and pulling him closer to you.
“f-fuck, i…”, you try to say, but the words fail you.
“y/n, remember you have to guess before you can come”, you hear someone saying, changbin you think.
“i- i”, you try again, but you can only focus on his tongue on your cunt.
your mind spins in the darkness of the blindfold, every nerve ending lit up like fire under his relentless mouth. the wet heat of his tongue drags slowly at first, flattening against your lower lips before circling your clit, making your hips jerk upwards. he sucks your clit between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. your thighs tremble around his head, your muscles trembling as you keep dripping and soaking his chin, dripping down onto the sofa again.
you strain to focus, trying to guess who it could be. it feels possessive, almost desperate, like he’s been starving for this for a long time. your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging harder, trying to think who could be this desperate for you, who could be eating you out like he was a man craving for your taste, and that’s when you realise.
“s-seungmin… it’s you, seungmin”, you gasp out, your hips moving against his face.
he pulls back, his lips glistening with your wetness, “i’ve been waiting for this for a long time, like the good boy i am for you, your puppy”
his mouth seals over your cunt again, his tongue thrusting deep inside while his nose presses against your clit, grinding in small circles that send sparks shooting up your spine. your back arches off the sofa again, your eyes squeezed shut behind the silk as your orgasm starts growing again, your pussy pulsing and fluttering around his tongue.
your cries and moans and the sound of seungmin licking and sucking you as he eats you out are not the only sounds in the room. you hear groans from the watching boys and voices saying things your mind can’t comprehend right now. your orgasm grows faster now, your body rocking instinctively, chasing the friction, but seungmin senses the tightening in your core and the way your moans pitch higher and your thighs clamp around his ears and stops. he stops abruptly, pulling away with a final lick that leaves you whimpering at the edge.
“wait, wha-”
“get on your knees”, he tells you, his voice not leaving room for hesitation.
you scramble to obey him, your limbs shaky and uncoordinated from your denied release, but his hands guide you, helping you shift positions until you’re upright and then lowering again. he lies back on the sofa beneath you, his head positioned perfectly between your spread legs.
“sit on my face and ride me”, he says, pulling your hips down without waiting.
you sink onto him without thought, lost in the haze and your pleasure, your soaked pussy pressing fully against his mouth as his tongue starts moving against you again. the new angle lets him devour you deeper, his tongue spearing up into your entrance while his lips suckle at your clit with every grind of your hips.
you moan loudly, your hands moving to brace on the sofa as you rock back and forward, your breasts bouncing with each movement.
“oh god. minnie, j-just like that… you’re d-doing so g-good”, you say, your voice broken as you praise him.
your wetness smears across his face, soaking his cheeks and chin as he groans into you.
“fuck, i can’t take this anymore”, you hear a new voice, felix, you recognise him instantly, and then you hear the sound of his hand stroking his cock as he watches you.
you can picture it clearly - his eyes locked on your bouncing breasts, on your nipples begging for attention, on your cunt riding seungmin’s face, on your ass flexing as you grind down harder on seungmi’s tongue. you hear other voices too and you’re sure he’s not the only one who has his hand on his cock watching you right now.
“you taste to fucking good, y/n, i’ve waited for this for so long”, seungmin says against your cunt before he moves closer to suck your clit again.
it’s overwhelming - his mouth on you, the rest watching and touching themselves, the knowledge that every eye is on your naked body, the way that you have all of them eating out of the palm of your hand, you think you can go insane from all this.
you feel your orgasm getting close again and your hips start moving faster, riding his face more now, your clit dragging over his lips and nose with each roll of your hips.
“please, minnie, d-don’t stop. you’re such a good boy for me, make me come, puppy, p-please”, you say, your moans turning to broken pleas.
he groans against you and grabs your thighs, pulling you even closer to him, his lips desperately eating you out now and that’s all it takes for you to break. your orgasm crashed through you as your pussy soaks his face in a hot flood that he laps up greedily, his tongue continuing to work against your lips even as overstimulation sets in.
you twitch and gasp, trying to lift away but his hands hold you firm against him until the pleasure borders on too much, forcing you to shift sideways with a whimper, your body trembling and slick. your legs feel like jelly but seungmin helps you ease back down onto the sofa. he moves closer to you, his breath warm against your lips as he moves to kiss you. you pull him closer, your fingers moving to his hair again as you taste yourself on his tongue.
“you taste so fucking good, y/n”, he says against your mouth, “i’ve dreamt about this for so long… having you like this, riding my face…”
he kisses you one last time, his tongue sliding against yours, before he pulls away with a soft groan and stands up, leaving you sprawled and waiting, hearing the sounds of groans and hands stroking cocks somewhere in the room.
this time, it isn’t long before the sofa dips again and someone sits down close to you. his strong hands guide you upright, then move you until you’re sitting on top of him with your back pressed against his broad chest and your legs draped wide over his thighs.
this position leaves you completely exposed - even more than before lying on the sofa - and now your dripping cunt is on full display for the room, the air kissing your swollen folds as fresh arousal trickles down to soak his skin already. you can feel his hard cock throbbing against the small of your back, his precum already smearing across your spine as he shifts beneath you.
your hips roll instinctively, grinding back against his cock, seeking for fiction, anything, but his grip tightens on your thigh.
“shh”, he whispers, but it’s not enough for you to completely recognise his voice, and then one of his hands moves to your leg to hold you still for him.
his other hand begins its slow ascent, his fingertips trailing deliberately from the slick mess at your navel upwards. they skim over the curve of your stomach, pausing there to trace the underside of your breast before grabbing it fully, his thumb brushing your nipple making you moan.
“oh, f-fuck”, you moan, your mouth falling open as you arch your back.
his hand starts moving again, higher still, his palm gliding along your collarbone to your neck. his fingers wrap lightly around your throat, squeezing a bit at first and then just holding you, tilting your head back towards him.
his mouth finds yours in a hungry kiss, his lips parting yours before his tongue moves deep into your mouth, making you whimper into him. your body arches under his touch again and you start moving, your hips searching for more, but he stops you once more, his hand on your thigh pressing down firmly.
with a low grunt, he lifts you up a bit, just enough to nudge the head of his cock against your soaked entrance. he teases there, circling and spreading your wetness but never pushing inside. your cunt clenches desperately, trying to suck him in, but he won’t let you.
“p-please”, you say, moaning against his lips, “do something… anything”
your voice cracks with need as you chase his mouth for another taste. your thighs tremble over his, your cunt visibly pulsing and leaking, coating his cock and dripping down to soak the sofa beneath you both.
the other boys keep groaning around you, the wet sounds of their hands pumping their cocks echoing as they watch you.
“a name first”, chan reminds you from somewhere nearby.
you try to think, but he just keeps teasing you, his cock nudging but never entering. the head circles your entrance again and again, dipping just the tiniest bit to stretch your rim before pulling back, leaving you empty and aching. you keep begging against his lips, almost crying now, your words tumbling out of your mouth in broken moans.
“please, fuck, i need it- i- i need your cock inside me, i can’t take it anymore”, you say as tears of frustration prick at your eyes under the blindfold, and your hips twitch uselessly in his iron grip.
then he does something - he leans in to bite down hard on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, sucking the skin there between his teeth. that familiar bite, the way his teeth sink in while his other hand squeezes your thigh, makes everything click into place.
“m-minho”, you gasp out, his name spilling from your lips as you moan again.
“fucking finally”, minho growls against your skin and without warning, he slams you down fully onto his cock, burying every inch deep inside your soaked cunt.
you let out the biggest moan of the day, your walls stretching around him at the sudden fullness. your head falls back against his shoulder, your body jolting as he starts fucking you from this positions, his hips snapping against your ass to drive into you relentlessly.
every thrusts hits that spot inside you, the head of his cock grinding against it over and over again, making your vision blur behind the blindfold, making you almost lose control there and then.
his teeth stay on that spot between your neck and shoulder, biting and sucking more marks into your skin while his cock moves in and out of your dripping cunt. your arousal splashes out around his cock, coating his balls and thighs. you move against him desperately, rolling your hips to meet every move of his, your spread legs trembling as the others watch your pussy get pounded open.
“that’s it”, he says into your neck, “you can take this… good girl”
one of his hands moves to wrap around your throat again and he turns your head towards him, his tongue moving deep into your mouth as he bites your lower lip, gaining another moan from you.
“you’re so fucking tight around me”, he says agasint your lips, “been waiting for this as the others had their fun with you”
he bites your lip again, tugging it between his teeth as you beg him for more, your voice not doing anything to hide how desperate you are for him.
“harder, minho- please, don’t s-stop, i- i can take it”
“you can take it, i know you can”, he says.
his other hand moves to your spread thighs, his fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight and fast circles that make your whole body tremble.
“look at her”
“she’s not gonna last”
the voices again, but you don’t focus on them, you can’t. the only thing you can focus on is minho - his lips against yours, his hand on your throat and the other on your clit as he keeps fucking you.
“m-minho, i… i-”
“come on, come for me now, show they how good i’m fucking you”
he says before he moves to your lips again, biting your lower lip once more. you both come together, your cunt clamping down around his cock as you gush and squirt over his hand and the sofa. minho groans loudly into your mouth, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with hot and thick ropes of cum, thrusting through both your orgasms until you’re spent and limp against his chest.
you can feel the wet mess you’ve made together as your cunt still clenches around him. his hand stays firm on your throat, holding you in place as he turns your head towards him again. his lips crash against yours again, his tongue sliding in to claim your mouth one more time.
“good girl”, he whispers against your lips, his voice still rough, “i told you you could take it”
his words send a fresh shiver through you and he kisses you once more, biting your lower lip before pulling back just enough to move your spent body down onto the sofa again.
“oh god, this is insane, this is so hot”, you hear hyunjin saying and someone hums, agreeing with him.
you sink into the sofa, your legs still spread open and your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. your skin feels flushed and slick with sweat and the evidence of what you’ve been doing, your nipples still tight and aching, and your cunt still throbbing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, or rather, or your orgasms. you can feel minho’s cum still dripping from your cunt, warm and sticky, mixing with your own juices on the sofa beneath you.
then you feel the shift of weight behind you and a warm body lies down along your back, moving you just enough for him to press you flush against his body from shoulders to thighs. his chest molds to your spine and his breath is warm on your neck as he starts placing kisses there.
each kiss is gentle at first, his lips brushing the skin below your ear and then he starts trailing down to your shoulder with light sucks that makes your breath hitch. his hand begins tracing your body as his fingertips glide over your hip and up your side, avoiding the spots where you need him the most at first, just to make you tremble and beg for him.
“o-oh, don’t stop”, you tell him.
his hand continues moving, sliding lower now as he moves to trace the curve of your waist and then dips between your legs. you moan and turn your head towards his, seeking his mouth.
his lips find yours instantly and your hand reaches up as your fingers thread into his hair, tugging as the kiss deepens. your tongues slide against each other while his fingers finally reach your swollen clit. he starts circling it with feather-light strokes at first, building pressure gradually until your hips twitch forward into his touch.
“m-more… please…”, you say, moaning against his mouth.
he responds by pressing two of his fingers lower, sliding them through your slick folds before pushing inside your cunt with a smooth thrust.
“oh, f-fuck… yes-”
the stretch feels perfect, his fingers curling just right to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. your walls clench around his fingers, still sensitive from minho but already greedy for more. at the same time, your hand moves down between your bodies and wraps around his cock, which is hot and hard in your hand, twitching as you stroke him, your thumb moving to spread the precum already on his tip.
he groans against your mouth, the sound whiny and desperate, his hips bucking into your grip, and you recognise him instantly, no room for doubt this time.
“jisung…”
his groan vibrates against your lips as your fingers wrap tighter around his cock. han kisses you harder while his fingers keep working inside your cunt, stretching you open, as you soak his knuckles from how wet you still are.
“fuck, baby, you feel so good… you’re so wet for me already”, he pulls away from you just enough to talk and then moves closer, devouring your lips again.
his fingers stop moving and then he removes them, making you whine against his lips.
“j-jisung…”, you try to say his name again.
“shh, it’s okay, baby, i’m here, i’m not going anywhere”, he says.
his hand moves to your thigh, lifting your leg and draping it over his hip before his hand goes back to your cunt, entering three fingers this time. the new angle forces your legs wider, exposing your swollen pussy completely to the boys again. han’s cock throbs harder against your lower back, his precum already painting your skin-
“look at you, baby, all spread out like this”, he says, his lips brushing your ear as he talks you through every move, “the boys can see everything now, you know? they can see your pretty pussy dripping, begging to be filled again, begging to be filled with my cock now”
you moan at his words, trying to catch his lips again, but he moves away from you, speaking again.
“you want that, don’t you, baby? you want me to slide right in while they all watch you, begging for me, right?”
his fingers never stop circling your clit, pressing firmer now, making your hips buck back against him.
“y-yes, please… i-i need you”, you say.
your hand stays tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as you moan into another kiss. he shifts behind you, lining up his cock with your entrance. the tip nudges you from behind, parting your puffy lips before he pushes slowly inside you, until he sinks into your cunt completely, stretching you around him.
“f-fuck, baby. you feel so good”, he says, groaning against your lips.
the sensation is overwhelming, your cunt gripping him as your walls still flutter from your last orgasm. he groans deep in his throat, his hips rolling forward until he’s buried to the hilt, his balls pressed against you.
“ji- jisung, i-”, you try to say, but your voice breaks in another moan.
“that’s it, baby”, he says, his voice strained with his own pleasure, “take everything. you feel how deep i am inside you? that’s your pussy, sucking me in so tight… f-fuck”
he starts thrusting, slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before he dives back in. each stroke is accompanied by his fingers on your clit, never stopping, never moving away from there, as he keeps rubbing in time with his hips.
“oh, god, f-fuck… don’t stop, please”, you say, you’re sure you’re almost begging at this point, but you don’t even care.
your leg hooked over his keeps you wide open, the rest of the boys getting a perfect view of han’s cock disappearing into your cunt and the way your folds stretch around him as your cum leaks out with every thrust.
your hand tightens in his hair, pulling him down for another messy kiss as he picks up the pace. han talks you through it all, his breath hot against your lips as his skin slaps against yours.
“yes baby, just like that, good girl. squeeze me- fuck, yes… you’re so close already. i can feel you gripping my cock”, he says, biting and licking your lip before he devours your mouth again, “let go for me, baby. come on my cock while the boys watch you fall apart because of me”
his fingers work your clit relentlessly, pinching and circling until your orgasm grows and grows and you can’t do anything to stop it. your body trembles harder, your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching as the orgasm crashes over you.
“that’s it”, he says, “let go, baby”
you cry out into his mouth, your body convulsing and shaking as you come all over his cock. his hips snap forward as his cock moves deep into your clenching cunt as your orgasm pulls you apart. he groans loud against your lips, the sounds that are coming from him completely raw and desperate.
“fuck, yes- just like that, baby, you’re doing so good”, he pants as his fingers still rub circles on your clit even as your juices gush out around his cock, soaking him even more.
his balls smack against your ass with every move and he buries himself to the hilt one final time, his cock twitching inside you as he starts to come. hot and thick ropes of his cum, mixing with minho’s cum from before, and your own fluids, overflowing and leaking out down your thighs onto the sofa.
his body shudders against your back, his breath ragged as he grinds through the aftershocks, pumping every drop deep while his lips find yours again. he doesn’t pull out right away, letting you both ride the high as you hear the boys around you, and his fingers start slowing down on your clit, the lazy strokes making you twitch and whimper now.
finally, with a low sigh, he slips out of you, his softening cock now free and a fresh gush of your mixed cum following it out. he moves you carefully onto your back on the sofa, your body still trembling. he moves on top of you, his body pressing you down as he captures your mouth in another kiss, your tongues sliding and exploring each other. his hands move to your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks while he pours everything into the kiss, drinking in your moans.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, his voice low and teasing as he smirks at you, your eyes still covered under the silk.
“you ready for more already, baby?”, he says.
you nod your head, a moan escaping your lips at the thought of his cock entering you again even though it just left your body mere seconds ago. your hands slide up his chest as you lean up to kiss him again, hungry for whatever he might give you next. he laughs softly, the sound warm and amused, and moves down, just enough to nip at your bottom lip.
“you’re so greedy, fuck. look at you, still dripping and already begging without even catching your breath”
he kisses you once more and then he pushes himself, standing up.
“you’re next”, you hear him say, but to who? you’re not sure, but something tells you that you’re not gonna have to wait long.
and you’re right because it’s not even a minute before another body settles over you, his strong and long hands grabbing your ankles and spreading them wider, pushing your legs apart until your thighs burn with the stretch.
he lowers himself between your open legs, his breath hot against your skin as he starts leaving kisses at your ankle, just soft and open-mouthed kisses trailing upwards as his tongue flicks out to taste your skin.
he moves slowly, like he has all the time in the world for this, pressing his lips to the sensitive inside of your knee and sucking lightly there before continuing higher along your inner thigh. his touch is soft yet teasing, his mouth inching closer and closer to your swollen and cum soaked cunt with every kiss.
but just as his lips hover near your dripping folds, he changes his path, kissing around it and circling the sensitive area without touching where you need him the most, his tongue moving to trace the crease of your thigh instead.
you can’t help it, your hips buck up towards his face, desperate for contact, your body still quivering from your previous orgasms and the new one that’s coming from just his lips on your skin. you want more, you need more and you will do whatever it takes to get it.
a needy whimper escapes your lips as you beg him, your voice hoarse and broken, “oh god… p-please, touch me, fuck, i… i need your mouth on me, please”
his hands slide up your body in response, his palms cupping your breasts as his fingers start rolling your nipples hard enough to send sparks straight to your dripping cunt and forcing a broken scream from your throat.
“oh, fuck… m-more, please”, you say, your back arching off the sofa as he tugs and flicks your nipples again and again.
he twists them just right, tugging and flicking while his mouth continues its torturous path along your thighs, avoiding your clit and your entrance entirely, building the frustration until you’re writhing beneath him. his tongue keeps dragging wet stripes along your skin, and every avoided brush builds the frustration higher, your thighs shaking and your hips rolling in search of friction that never quite lands where you crave it most.
one of his hands moves to capture yours, your fingers intertwining and the size and shape of his hand hits you instantly - it’s big and slim, elegant yet strong.
“h-hyunjin”, you gasp, his name tumbling out raw and broken.
he chuckles low against your thigh, his breath ghosting over your skin and his lips brushing your skin as he speaks, “hi, muse”
then he dives straight in without warning, his tongue flattening against your clit in one long, filthy lick before sucking your swollen clit between his lips. your whole body jolts like you’ve been shocked, a loud scream of his name tearing from your throat.
“hyunjin!”
the sound of your scream echoes off the walls and you can hear the others moaning and groaning, their voices rough with their own arousal as they watch you fall apart under hyunjin’s attention, some of their hands moving to their cocks again as they watch you.
hyunjin doesn’t stop, though. one of his hands is still gripping yours firmly while the other keeps pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers mercilessly. his mouth works your cunt with dedication, his tongue thrusting deep into your entrance to lap at the mess inside then circling back to suck and flick your clit.
your hips buck wildly against his face, grinding down in search of more pressure, your thighs clamping around his head only for him to grab your legs and pull them over his shoulders, spreading you open for him even more.
“hyunjin, i… i- oh my god, d-don’t stop”, you say, as he devours your pussy now.
“that’s it, muse”, he growls against you, the vibrations making you sob and choke on air, “ride my tongue. you look so fucking pretty like this all spread out and dripping while i suck on your pretty cunt”
he moves to suck your clit again, hard and fast, while his fingers twist your nipple in time with the rhythm of his mouth.
“come for me, muse. i wanna watch you shatter so i can draw every detail later”, he says, his words making you moan loudly again, “i wanna draw the way your mouth falls open, how you thighs tremble, your hand grabbing mine, the exact shade your pussy turns when it’s stuffed full and leaking”
his words push you over the edge hard. your orgasm crashes through you in waves as your pussy clenches and gushes around his tongue while you scream his name again. your body can’t stop moving, convulsing as your hips jerk uncontrollably against his face. he keeps licking you through it, drawing it out until you’re shaking and oversensitive, whimpering broken pleas.
“please, hyunjin, i… i-”
you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, you’re not sure if you want more or for him to stop. hyunjin lets your hand go and then moves his hand to your face, sliding his fingers up to your lips.
“open”, he says and you obey instantly, parting your mouth wide for him.
he lowers his head to give your clit one last slow suck, his tongue swirling as your body moves closer to him, trying to ride his face again. then, he moves over you, his weight settling between your spread legs. he leans down and spits directly into your open mouth - a thick and warm mix of his saliva and the taste of your own cum.
you swallow it greedily and then, his mouth crashes onto yours in a deep and messy kiss, both of you moaning loud into each other as his tongue pushes the mix between your lips, and your hands now moving to roam his body while the others keep watching you.
your fingers slide down his chest until they wrap around his cock, giving it one slow stroke as your thumb swipes over the tip to spread his precum. hyunjin groans deep into your mouth as his hips jerk forward, fucking into your hand before he catches himself. he breaks the kiss with a sharp gasp and then grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away.
“fuck… muse, no, not today. the wheel didn’t say that”, his voice is rough and strained, like it hurts him to stop you, like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done.
he kisses you again and then pushes himself off you, leaving you empty and aching on the sofa while he stands up. you hear him groan again, low and frustrated, as he walks over to join the others.
you lie there with your legs still spread and your cunt dripping and twitching from all your orgasms. you can feel their eyes burning into you, watching every quiver and every drop that leaks from your hole. your nipples tighten again just from being stared at like this. you hear them talking, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. after a bit, you open your mouth to say something, anything, wanting to know what’s taking them so long, but changbin’s voice cuts through first.
“hold tight, princess”
just as he says it, you feel strong arms sliding under you, one behind your back and the other under your thighs. you’re lifted effortlessly, your arms looping around a warm neck, you can’t tell who it is yet. your bare ass brushes against his hard cock as he carries you and then, you’re lowered onto something cool and flat, the table.
“much better”, you hear someone saying.
the same boy who carried you guides you down until your back meets the hard surface. he takes your wrists and places your hands on the edges of the table, your fingers curling around it. then, he steps between your legs, gripping your thighs and spreading them wide. you feel another rush of wetness seep out, your body already reacting to the exposure and the anticipation until you hear a soft and low buzz that makes your clit throb on instinct.
your vibrator, someone has it.
how does he have it?
when did he get it?
was that what they were talking about before?
the sound moves closer, the vibrator circling your spread thighs without touching you yet. your hips twitch upwards, chasing the noise, desperate for that first contact. the boy between your legs keeps you pinned open, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin where your thigh meets your cunt, but never quite reaching where you need it.
your nipples ache and every breath you take, makes them brush against the air. you can feel every pair of eyes locked on your body, on your dripping pussy, on the way your entrance clenches around nothing, on the vibrator hovering just out of reach.
the buzz grows louder as it nears your clit, close enough that you can feel the faint vibration in the air but still not touching you. a broken whimper slips from your throat then, because you’re already so wet that it’s running down to the table beneath you, and the teasing only makes more leak out.
“p-please… do something”, you beg whoever is doing this to you.
the boy holding your legs shifts, pressing his cock against your inner thigh, hard and hot, but he doesn't push inside. he lets you feel the weight of his cock while the vibrator finally brushes your swollen clit in one teasing pass. your whole body jolts and you scream, the contact is brief, sending sparks straight through your body. then he pulls it away again, leaving you gasping and rolling your hips in search of more.
“no, no, please, don’t stop”, you say.
you hear minho’s low chuckle from somewhere near your head.
“look at her, already dripping again”, he says.
the vibrator returns, this time pressing flat against your clit and stays there now. the steady buzz shoots through you like lightning and your back arches off the table, as a loud and broken moan tears from your throat. your hands grip the table even tighter, your knuckles turning white.
the boy spreads you even wider, his fingers now moving to pull your folds apart so the vibrator can work directly on your exposed clit. your thighs start shaking almost immediately. the previous orgasms have left you hypersensitive and this constant and relentless vibration is too much but not enough at the same time.
“p-please, i… i need m-more”
you can feel your cunt clenching and pulsing, trying to grab onto something that isn’t there. the boy leans down and nips at your earlobe then moves to your neck while the vibrator circles your clit, changing pressure and the angle every few seconds so you never get used to it. your hips buck wildly, chasing the sensation, but he keeps you pinned, not letting you move. every time you get close, the vibrator pulls back just enough to keep you on the edge.
the vibrator moves lower, sliding through your soaked folds and teasing your entrance without pushing in. it collects your wetness and then drags back up to your clit. the sudden change makes you scream and your back arches off the table again. your fingers claw at the table edges, trying hard to hold on, but you’re so close it hurts.
“p-please”, you gasp, your voice wrecked, “please, i… i need-”
the boy moves his head again to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “still not recognise me?”
it’s jeongin’s voice.
the vibrator presses harder right on your clit before he moves it and finally enters you, and your hips jerk up again, already chasing the next orgasm that’s already growing inside you.
“oh g-god… jeongin!”
he laughs, completely pleased with himself, then he crashes his mouth onto yours. his teeth nip your lower lip hard enough to sting before his tongue pushes past your lips. you moan into him, the sound swallowed as he bites down again. then, his mouth leaves yours to trail down your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin,just like the others did.
he moves lower, his teeth closing around one of your nipples while the vibrator stays buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around it. he releases your nipple and then moves straight to your cunt. his tongue drags through your folds and circles your clit as the vibrator keeps moving inside you.
you scream again, the sensations pushing you right to the edge. you hear the others groaning much louder now, the wet sounds of their fists stroking their cocks filling the room as they watch your writhe.
“i’m gonna come”, you hear seungmin saying.
“this is so hot, i can’t believe this”, it’s han now.
jeongin fucks the vibrator in and out of you while his tongue works your clit. your hips try to roll but he stops you again, forcing you to take every vibration and every lick exactly how he wants it. your moans turn into broken and desperate sobs and you’re sure you’re crying under the blindfold.
but just as your orgasm starts to crash through you, jeongin yanks the vibrator out.
“not yet”, he growls against your cunt.
you whimper at the sudden emptiness, your walls clenching around nothing again. he moves the buzzing toy up to your nipples instead, pressing it against one of them and then the other, circling until both of them are red and aching.
at the same time, his mouth seals over your entrance and he starts eating you out as his tongue thrusts deep, lapping at every drop that pours out of you.
“j-jeongin, i-”
“shh, you can take this, and you will or i will stop right now”, he says and then dives back in again.
he stays like that for a long time, alternating between sucking your clit and fucking your with his tongue while the vibrator keeps tormenting your nipples. your body shakes nonstop, your thighs shaking around his head, but every time you get close, he eases off just enough to keep you desperate and dripping for him, making you beg for it, for him.
finally, he pushes his tongue as deep inside you as it will go, curling and stroking your walls while he presses the vibrator hard against your clit again.
“come”, he says, his voice muffled against your soaked cunt, “now”
your orgasm rips through you violently and your cunt clenches as you squirt all over his face and the vibrator. your back bows off the table as a scream tears from your throat again, your thighs keeping his head right between your legs. jeongin groans into you, licking through every spasm while your juices run down his chin.
you hear the boys cursing and moaning loudly, the wet sounds and groans of them coming filling the room as they watch you fall apart and soak jeongin’s face. your body keeps twitching, the aftershocks rolling through you while he keeps the vibrator pressed to your oversensitive clit, drawing every last drop out of you.
once you can’t take it anymore, jeongin clicks the vibrator off with a soft snap, the sudden silence almost deafening after the constant buzzing that had filled the room. he sets the toy on the edge of the table and then leans over you again.
his mouth finds yours in a slow and deep kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips. his hands move to cradle your jaw, his fingers firm as they hold your face steady while his tongue pushes past your lips. you moan into the kiss, your hands lifting from the table to tangle in his hair, tugging gently at the strands as you pull him closer to you.
when he pulls away, a thin string of saliva connects your mouths for a second before it breaks and jeongin watches it with dark and hungry eyes as he looks down at you, his chest rising and falling.
without another word, he slides his arms beneath you again and lifts you off the table. your legs wrap around his waist and your arms loop around his neck. he moves you to the sofa again, lowering you onto the cushions, the fabric cool against your overheated skin. he kneels between your spread thighs, his hands resting on your knees as he looks up at you.
“you alright?”, he asks you, his voice much softer now, concern threading through the cracks, “did i push you too far?”
you laugh, the sound breathless and fond, and then you reach out blindly towards him until your fingers find his face. you cup his cheeks and tug him forward, pulling him into another kiss.
“my shy, lovely innie is back”, you murmur against his lips.
he smiles against your mouth and then kisses you once more, slower this time, before he stands up. he brushes a thumb over your cheek and then turns and walks towards the others who are still watching you.
“how are you doing?”, seungmin asks you, “you think you can handle what’s left?”
changbin and chan.
they are left.
your cunt clenches hard at the thought and fresh slick starts leaking out again, sliding down your inner thigh already.
“i’m good, i can take it”, you say, nodding your head rapidly, almost frantic.
you sit there catching your breath, your thighs still parted, when you feel the cushion dip beside you on your right and a warm body settling close to you. his fingers brush your hair away from your neck and then a mouth presses there, his lips parting to suck a slow mark into the skin. you tilt your head to give him more room, a soft moan escaping your lips already.
his hand slides onto your thigh, his fingers moving and stroking upwards along the inner part but then, they stop close to your aching clit. he stays there for a long moment, his breath hot against your neck and his fingers tracing your skin but not moving any further, and then he pulls away completely, leaving you throbbing and empty again.
before you can recover, the left side of the sofa dips and he sits down next to you again.
why did he change sides?
you don’t have much time to think because this time, he starts moving much faster, much hungrier, his mouth latches onto the other side of your neck with more force, his teeth scraping and sucking hard, so hard you’re sure you’re gonna have marks tomorrow, just like with all of the other boys.
his hand moves again, just as bold as his mouth, sliding straight to your inner thigh and gripping tight, his fingers digging in. it moves upwards in one firm stroke but stops again, not touching you where you need him the most. then, just like he did before, he moves away from you, leaving you panting and dripping for him.
your head spins with the contrast, how gentle he was on one side and how rough was on the other, and how he moved away both times, before he gave you any real relief. your cunt pulses around nothing, your arousal already glistening on your folds as you sit there shaking and desperate for him, your body screaming for more.
“wait, who-”, you start asking but you have to stop yourself when you start to realise what’s going on.
two large hands land on your thighs at one, forcing your legs wider and spreading you open on the sofa until your knees are nearly touching the cushions on either side. at the same time, two mouths crash onto your neck from both sides.
one pair of lips is slower, more deliberate and delicate, sucking a deep bruise below your jaw while his tongue drags hot and wet over the mark.
the other mouth is already biting your skin, his teeth sinking in hard enough to make you gasp, then he sucks there until your skin burns.
both sets of hands stay locked on your thighs, their fingers digging into the soft flesh there, holding you spread and helpless.
your brain catches up and the contrast clicks into place - the careful and teasing touches from your right and the rougher and hungry ones from your left. you realise who is on either side of you, chan on your right and changbin on your left, both of them working you together, both of them claiming your body at the same time.
a low chuckle comes from somewhere in front of you and then han’s voice cuts through the haze, amused and filthy.
“you finally figured it out, huh? took you long enough, baby”, he says.
the realisation hits you like a spark to gasoline and then a loud and broken moan rips out of your throat.
“oh my fucking god”, you say as another moan escapes you.
your hands move blindly to their bodies, finding their warm and solid thighs on either side of you. your nails scrape hard over their muscles, leaving red lines as you grip them tight, desperate for something to hold onto.
the knowledge that both of them are going to take you at the same time, that you’re about to be shared between chan and changbin without any break, makes you cunt clench and leak even more, the sofa so ruined at this point that you’re sure you’re gonna need a new one.
but you don’t fucking care.
chan’s mouth moves higher, sucking behind your ear while his thumb strokes slow circles on your inner thigh, but never touching your clit. changbin’s teeth graze your collarbone, biting down there before he licks the sting again. his fingers continue to squeeze your thigh hard enough to bruise, but you need more, you don’t want either of them to stop.
both of them are breathing heavier now, groaning and moaning against your skin, their cocks already hard and leaking as they keep you pinned between them, teasing and denying you. your whole body shakes with need and you can feel how they’re both holding back just enough to drive you insane.
your fingers keep digging into their thighs, your nails leaving marks as another desperate moan escapes you, already aching for the moment they finally stop teasing you and start fucking you together.
“please… do something, i… fuck, i need you, both of you”
chan’s low voice rumbles right against your ear, “we’re gonna take care of you, love. just breathe for us, let us hear every pretty sound you make”
changbin’s grip tightens on your thigh, his fingers pressing deep into the flesh, “that’s it, sweetheart. spread your legs wider for us, just show us how wet and ready you are”
they move you together, chan’s hands sliding under your ass, lifting you a bit while changbin keeps your legs pinned open. they move your body until you’re slouched back against the cushions, your hips tilted forward, completely exposed. you feel chan dropping to his knees between your spread thighs, his broad shoulders forcing them even wider. changbin stays on the sofa beside you, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulder and his other hand still gripping your thigh and holding you open.
chan looks up at you, his eyes dark as he watches your still covered eyes, and then he leans in and drags his tongue flat through your soaked folds in one long and slow lick from your entrance all the way to your clit, making your hips jerk and a loud and broken moan escape from your throat.
“oh my... chris-”
changbin’s mouth is on yours instantly, swallowing the sound. he kisses you hard, his tongue pushing past your lips while his free hand cups the back of your head and holds you to him.
“shh”, he murmurs against your mouth between kisses, “let chan eat that pretty cunt now, we wanna hear you but not too loud yet, there will be time for that in a bit”
you continue kissing changbin as your hips start rocking on their own, grinding down against chan’s face. he groans into your cunt, his tongue circling your clit before he sucks it between his lips and then, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them hard against your front wall.
changbin pulls back just enough to watch your face while you moan into his mouth.
“look at you, sweetheart, already fucking his face. so desperate for us”
chan pulls his mouth off you for a second, his lips shiny, “you gonna be a good girl for us and suck changbin’s cock while i keep eating you?”
you nod your head frantically, already reaching for changbin, desperate to have him in your mouth. he stands up in front of you, his thick cock flushed and leaking at the tip. he strokes himself once and then guides the tip to your lips, as you move closer to him too.
“you need to be a good girl if you want to come, okay?”, changbin tells you, his voice rough and demanding, “open up and take it”
you open your mouth and he pushes in, the heavy weight of him sliding over your tongue. chan buries his face back between your legs, sucking your clit while his fingers pump steadily inside you, your eyes rolling back.
“fuck, that’s it”, chan praises you between your thighs, his voice muffled between them, “taking my fingers so well. such a good girl, letting us have you at the same time”
changbin’s hand rests on the back of your head, guiding you gently but firmly as you suck him.
“good girl. look at you, choking on my cock while chan eats that dripping pussy. so fucking greedy for us. so pretty”
from somewhere in front of you, hyunjin’s voice cuts in, “shit, guys, she’s taking both of you so well, look at her hips moving on chan’s face”
you hear another voice saying something like “greedy little thing”, but you don’t recognise him, so lost in your pleasure and the two boys that are using you as they wish.
you keep rocking against chan’s mouth as your hand moves to grab what you can’t reach of changbin’s cock with your mouth, your hand stroking the base while you suck the rest. your tongue swirls around the head every time he pulls back, letting you taste the salty precum that keeps leaking out.
chan adds a third finger, stretching you wider, his tongue never stopping its relentless circles on your clit.
“you’re doing so good, love. taking everything we give you. we’re gonna make you come so hard, rewards you like the good girl you are”
changbin groans above you, his hips twitching forward, “f-fuck, your mouth feels perfect, keep sucking me like that, sweetheart”
your orgasm starts building fast, the combination of chan’s finger curling inside you and his tongue flicking on your clit and changbin’s cock stretching your mouth pushing you right to the edge.
your walls start fluttering around chan’s fingers and just as you’re about to tip over, both of them pull away at the same time. chan’s fingers slide out of you and changbin pulls his cock from your mouth. you whine loudly, your hips chasing after chan’s face and your hands reaching blindly for changbin’s cock again.
“b-but… i-”, you try to say, but your words won’t find you.
chan rises up between your legs and cups your face with both of his hands, kissing you deep and slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
“shh, love”, he whispers against your lips, “we’re not done with you yet”
chan and changbin move in sync, both of them moving and dropping to their knees on both of your sides. then, their hands grip your waist and shoulders, guiding you until you’re on your hands and knees between them, with chan in front of you and changbin behind you now.
your back arches unconsciously, your ass pushed out and your thighs spread wide enough that your dripping pussy is soaking the sofa even more. chan settles in front of you, his cock standing rigid and flushed, and behind you, changbin’s cock presses against the curve or your ass, moving to drag through your soaked folds once, smearing your wetness over himself.
both of them are breathing hard, their low groans rumbling in their chests as they look at you positioned between them. chan’s fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face so he can look at you better.
“you ready for us, love? you want both of our cocks at the same time?”
“tell us sweetheart”, changbin says as his palm smooths down your spine then grips one ass cheek and spreads you open wider.
your voice comes out shaky and needy, “y-yes, please. i’m ready, i-i need you”
they don’t make you wait because the moment the words leave your mouth, they move together. changbin lines up and pushes forward in one smooth thrust, the thick head of his cock forcing your pussy open and sinking deep, the stretch burns so good that it makes your arms shake.
at the same time, chan guides his cock between your lips and slides in, the heavy weight of him filling your mouth until the tip bumps the back of your throat.
a broken and muffled moan vibrates around chan’s cock as changbin bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass. your walls clench hard around his cock, pulsing and fluttering while changbin stays buried to the hilt for a moment, letting you feel every inch of him.
“fuck, that’s it”, changbin growls, his voice rough, “taking every inch of my cock so deep. you’re such a good girl”
chan’s hand stays gentle on your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek as he rocks his hips forward in shallow thrusts.
“look at you”, he says, “your mouth so full of me while changbin fucks that tight pussy from behind. you’re perfect like this, our perfect girl”
they start moving together. changbin pulls back until only the head remains inside you, then moves forward again, the force of it rocking your whole body forward onto chan’s cock. chan meets the motion by pushing deeper into your throat, his free hand sliding into your hair to hold you steady for them.
every thrust from behind pushes you further onto the cock in your mouth, your own spit dripping down your chin and mixing with the precum leaking from chan’s cock. your cunt keeps clenching greedily around changbin every time he bottoms out, the head of his cock rubbing tight against that spot inside you that makes your thighs tremble.
“god, you’re so fucking wet”, changbin pants, one of his hands gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks while the other reaches around to squeeze your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple, “you love being used like this, don’t you?”
chan groans about you, his hips rolling in steady thrusts that make you gag around him “she’s taking us so well. look how her throat moves every time i push in. such a good girl for us”
from the other side of the room, seungmin’s voice cuts through the haze again, "look at those hips shaking, shit”
another voice, felix this time, also speaks, “fuck, she looks so pretty stuffed full like that, i wanna do it too”
their praises make your cunt flutter harder around changbin’s cock.
“f-fuck, sweetheart, just like that”, he moans, his thrusts growing faster now.
you push back to meet his thrusts, taking him deeper while your tongue works along the underside of chan’s cock. your hands grip the sofa cushions, your knuckles beyond white at this point, as both of them fuck you from both ends without mercy.
changbin’s pace picks up, his cock dragging against your walls with every stroke.
“you’re close, aren’t you, sweetheart? i can feel you pulsing around me”
chan pulls back just enough to let you breathe, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock, “you gonna come with both of us inside you?”
you nod your head, your eyes glassy and your mouth open and waiting.
“y-yes, please… i-i need you, both of you. i want you to come inside me, please”
chan groans at your words and then slides back in, moving deeper and faster this time, while changbin reaches around your hip and finds your swollen clit with his fingers. he rubs tight and fast circles over your sensitive clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.
the sudden stimulation makes your whole body jolt and you moan, the sound vibrating around chan’s cock as your orgasm crashes over you without warning. your pussy clamps down hard around changbin, your walls fluttering and squeezing as you come, squirting all over his cock. the intensity makes your arms give out, but changbin’s grip on your hips holds you up.
“fuck… there it is”, changbin groans, his hips stuttering as our cunt milks him, “coming so hard on my cock. good girl, sweetheart”
chan’s breathing turns ragged above you, his thrust growing uneven now, “shit, love, your mouth feels too good. i-i’m gonna-”
changbin’s fingers keep working your clit through your orgasm, drawing it out until you come again without a warning, so fast that the only thing you can do is shake and whimper around chan’s cock. this is enough to push both boys over the edge at the same time.
changbin buries himself to the hilt and comes deep inside you, hot pulsed of cum flooding your pussy. chan pushes forward and spills down your throat, thick ropes of cum shooting onto your tongue as he groans your name.
you swallow around him, taking everything he gives you while your orgasm keeps rolling through you in waves. changbin’s cum leaks out around his cock, dripping down your thigh onto the sofa too.
you hear the other boys groaning and coming too, their rough curses and broken moans and the unmistakable sounds of them stroking themselves to the sight of you being filled from both ends.
chan pulls out slowly, letting the last drops of cum land on your tongue. he tilts your chin up again, watching you swallow with your covered eyes. changbin stays buried inside you, his cock still twitching as he catches his breath, his fingers still gently circling your oversensitive clit until you whimper and he moves them away from you.
“such a good girl for us”, chan says, his voice hoarse, “took both of us so, so perfectly”
changbin leans over your back, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades, “good job, sweetheart”
strong hands slide under your arms and around your waist, lifting you gently from your position. chan and changbin work together, easing you upright until you’re sitting between them on the sofa. your legs still feel like jelly, your thighs sticky with a mix of sweat and cum that smears against the sofa as they settle you down.
chan stays on your right, one of his arms draped behind your shoulders, while changbin stays on your left, his palm resting warm on your bare thigh. their bodies bracket yours, solid and reassuring, the heat of their skin seeping into yours.
chan’s fingers find the knot at the back of your head and then, he unties the blindfold slowly, the fabric finally sliding away from your eyes. the light floods in and you have to blink a few times, adjusting as the scene in front of you comes into focus.
the living room looks like pure chaos after your round today - han is sprawled on the floor, his chest heaving as one of his hands is still loosely wrapped around his softening cock, streaks of his release glistening on his stomach; felix sits on the armchair across from you, his legs spread wide as his own cum pains the inside of one of his thighs and his stomach; you see minho leaning against the wall in front of you, breathing hard, the mess on his skin the proof to what he’s done; jeongin is on the rug, his cum drying on his fingers; and hyunjin and seungmin are tangled together on the smaller sofa, both of them looking completely wrecked, their bodies glistening with their own cum.
the air smells thick with sex, a mix of musk, sweat and the sharp tang of all your cum combined together. the sofa beneath you is damp in several spots, your own thighs and the cushion between your legs soaked from everything that happened.
you feel completely destroyed, your pussy still pulsing with aftershocks and changbin’s cum slowly leaking out of you. your jaw aches from taking chan so deep, your throat raw from all the swallowing and screaming and moaning you did. your skin is marked with fingertips and bite marks and also the faint red lines from where hands gripped your body too hard, yet satisfaction rolls through you in heavy waves and every inch of you feels claimed and pleasured.
chan brushes a strand of hair from your damp forehead, his touch gentle now, “you okay, love?”
you nod your head before you turn to look at him and answer, “yeah, more than okay. i loved it”
changbin chuckles low beside you, his hand rubbing circles on your thigh, “you took all of us like a champ. again”
han lifts his head and laughs softly, “the blindfold was the best idea we’ve ever had. watching you guess who was touching you while we all got off… fuck, that was hot”
“yeah, i almost came just from that a couple of times”, felix says, looking at his own cum on his skin.
you smile, still catching your breath, and lean back against chan’s arm, “maybe next time i’ll use the blindfold on you guys. make you guess what i’m gonna do next to you”
seungmin groans at the suggestion, “you already did that to me and i couldn’t think straight for two days after that”
hyunjin smirks next to him, his voice teasing, “wait, i wanna do that. do it with me next time!”
laughter ripples through the room, light and easy despite how wrecked and destroyed everyone looks. then, you hear jeongin’s voice, asking the question that everyone seems to be thinking.
“so… what’s next?”, he says.
your mind drifts for a moment, turning over the different possibilities.
what could come next?
another blindfold game? with them this time?
using your toys on them?
playing with two of them each time, just like chan and changbin did?
the options feel endless, each one more filthy and exciting than the last. you look around at their flushed faces, their spent bodies and you smile to yourself, already imagining the next time you spin the wheel.
the library
likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🌟
cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.
synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?
a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?
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sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings
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You hated going home for the holidays.
You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.
Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.
Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her.
Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.
“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”
“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed.
“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”
You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.
Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore.
There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”
Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”
His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.
“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”
“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness.
“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”
“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.
“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.”
Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.
“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.
“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”
“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.
“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”
“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”
Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”
“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”
Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”
“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”
“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”
You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”
Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.
SATURDAY
It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.
The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”
“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”
“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”
You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”
It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”
He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.
“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”
“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”
“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”
Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?
You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.
“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.
“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”
Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”
“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.
“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”
You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.
SUNDAY
Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had.
“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.
Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.
“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.
“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”
“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth.
Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”
“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth.
“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival.
You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch.
“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.
“Am I?”
“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”
You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”
Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively.
“It doesn’t bother me.”
You left your hand there for the whole film.
MONDAY
The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.
At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right.
Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you.
It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.
Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-
You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday.
Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.
You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.
“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”
“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”
Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”
Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”
Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?
He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”
“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”
You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.
Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now.
In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again.
TUESDAY
You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.
Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation.
The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?
“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”
There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”
You grinned. You were.
“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”
Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.
“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”
“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”
“Minho-”
“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”
“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”
The ball has always been in your court.
“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.
It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.
You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.
You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.
WEDNESDAY
Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.
Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect.
Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-
A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.
Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”
You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”
You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?
“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”
You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
“This is ridiculous-”
“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.”
Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you.
“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”
You paused. “What?”
“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker.
You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.
You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.
Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”
Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly.
“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made.
“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”
“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”
“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”
You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.
“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”
“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”
“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”
God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully.
“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”
“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”
“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”
“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”
“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”
You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation.
Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need.
“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”
“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”
“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?
“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.”
“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw.
Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened.
Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.
What the fuck just happened?
THURSDAY
You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.
Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.
Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.
Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.
You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.
Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too.
All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure.
The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message.
“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.
Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”
“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”
He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.
“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”
Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”
He nodded. “I do.”
You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top.
You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.
“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.”
He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.
Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.
“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”
“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”
“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”
He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.
“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,” Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”
“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”
Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”
With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.
“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”
You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.
“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”
“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.
“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”
"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.
“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”
His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.
You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.
“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.
“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”
You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you.
You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you.
“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”
Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.
You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”
You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you.
He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.
“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”
He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again.
“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.
“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"
“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex.
You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you.
“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”
“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”
“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”
“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”
White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted.
“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”
You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die.
“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”
With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable.
“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”
You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”
summary: one night Changbin jokingly instigated a sexual relationship with no strings attached and you easily agreed in the name of experience. the dynamics between you and him remain consistently the same as prior to the arrangement; him being obviously in love with his best friend, and you being the oblivious best friend; him being your personal mechanic, and you being his loyal customer. or so he thought. the more often he spends those lustful nights with you, the more he doubts this fwb arrangement will work any longer.
“Wanna go again?”
But his cock was already rubbing against your sensitive clit when he whispered in your ear. The ragged breath that followed made his question sound more like a desperate suggestion.
Beneath him, you were still evening your breath from the burst of blissed out sensation he’d brought upon you just moments ago. Your eyes closed and lips parted and legs trembling, his release trickled out of your cunt onto his car seat. With the pads of his forefinger and middle finger, he rubbed the thick fluid and smeared it gently over your clit, making you squirm at the sensation.
In the cramped space of the backseat where there was little to no extent to stretch your legs and arms, your body had become weary and stiff, and yet as if enchanted, “yes… yes, please…”
Carefully he parted your legs more to make room for him to move. His strained grunts fanned against the side of your face as he sank the tip of his cock into the warmth that enveloped him leisurely just less than twenty minutes prior. Your whines dammed up his ears as he slid in his length all the way to the base into your warm walls, the thin ooze of your juice made it easy and pleasant.
“You even said please,” he stared at your lips for a moment, before shaking his head to leave the thoughts behind, and kissed your blushed cheek instead, “my pleasure, darling.”
…
THUMP!
A chain of curses flew out of Changbin’s lips as he rubbed the back of his head to ease the sting. It was the umpteenth time he got distracted and bumped his head against the hood of the SUV he was working on since early that morning.
The erotic images from a couple nights prior constantly crept into his mind like a stubborn colony of ants crawling up at the smell of a bread crumb. He snorted at his own incapability to drive away that memory.
What he had with you was nothing more than a sexual arrangement he had shamelessly and half-jokingly proposed on a random movie night after an accidental makeout. Being childhood and long-time best friends, he hadn’t expected you to say yes, let alone so easily as if it was an arrangement for another movie night. Twice a week you both ended up seeing each other to satiate your lustful needs, which progressively intensified to a regular agenda he came to anticipate the more he got to have a taste of you.
But the reminiscent of those passionate nights had begun to take up too much space in his everyday life. He pictured how your body writhed under him, how you called his name time and time again, how your hands reached to caress his neck and bring him close, how your hair was damp with sweat, how effortlessly beautiful you were naked.
He wondered if it would affect him the same if he were to pleasure someone else—someone he wasn’t falling in love with.
Damn that arrangement. If only he had been a little braver that day to propose something more romantic than occasional sex. A relationship, for an instance. But he was too cowardly, afraid that the decades of friendship would shatter just because he looked at you as somebody so much more than just a friend.
His train of thought was cut short by a familiar ragged engine sound in the distance.
Changbin wasn’t a tad bit surprised when he saw a familiar old blue sedan nearing and lining up in the lot of the Car Wash and Auto Detailing where he spent most of his days. Through the wide open windows Keshi’s ANGOSTURA pierced through the warm spring air. The bluetooth he had put in the old car’s stereo two months ago seemed to work fine.
He dropped the wrenches and walked over to greet the driver he had gotten bored of seeing.
“At this point just tell me you can’t stand being away from me too long,” he said when you climbed out of your car. He wiped the grime remnants off his fingers with a washcloth that was already besmirched with stains of motor oil. “But we’re fully booked today. Come back in a week.”
“Is that how you talk to your loyal customer?” He couldn’t hold his grin when you clung to his arm, wearing your fakest heartbroken pout and woeful eyes to get him taking your car in for repair. Again. This was the third time in the last two months.
The car was well nigh crumbling. At first he had always thought there was too much work where it wasn’t worth the sweat he and his team shed and definitely not the large sum you set aside from your paycheck. But the car was one of the last of your brother’s possessions he let you have before he passed away nine years ago. Changbin knew you wouldn’t give up on the ancient vehicle before it totally gave up on you first. And giving up on you was what the car had been doing hence the amount of repairs it needed in a short period of time. It was only a matter of time until the car succumbed to its demise. Until then, Changbin was willing to fix anything there was to fix for you.
But where’s the fun if he didn’t playfully insult the junk you treasured most?
“You’d be faster on foot.” Changbin remarked with a snort after a quick check.
You weren’t aware of the dirty smudges from his coveralls smearing your pleated skirt and white pullover as you kept on pestering him by clinging to his arm. In spite of his indifference, he discreetly relished in every second of that physical contact.
“I’m always on time,” you pleaded, “so please?”
“Chan got himself this antique convertible car of his dream but his carport is too small for two cars to squeeze in,” he spun on his heel and headed off to the repairing station, nodding his chin in the direction where a shiny red Hyundai sedan, Chan’s old car, was parked in the corner, “he wants to get rid of her as soon as possible. What do you think?”
Changbin knew you wouldn’t give a damn. But Chan asked him to talk you into purchasing the car just in case.
As predicted, you gave the red Hyundai an uninterested glance before stalking behind him towards a customer’s car he mended. He pulled out a wrench from the pocket of his coveralls and bent over the SUV’s engine. He added half-heartedly, “save the money and save more from your monthly paycheck for four to five months. I’ll talk to Chan if you’re interested.”
“Or you can take the money and fix my car for me,” you insisted, looking over your shoulder at a black mustang parked in the lot reserved for the staff. A majestic vehicle that was the silent witness of a number of obscene activities shared between you two. “Besides, you haven’t paid your car off yet, have you?”
“No,” he replied casually, getting a little too entertained by your persistence, “but I’m taking care of that just fine, so your point is?”
You leaned against the SUV’s door with folded arms, “you're not very friendly right now.”
Changbin chuckled, “I don’t think we’ve been very friendly to each other these days.”
“Meaning?”
At the sight of your innocently curled eyebrows, Changbin bursted out laughing. His mouth ran faster than his brain sometimes. No regrets. But he was relieved you failed to grasp what he meant. “Forget it.”
“So how long does my car need to be in the workshop?”
He placed both hands on his hips, fingers hooked onto his coveralls pockets.
“A week maybe,” he glanced at your sedan, a mischievous glint flashed in his gaze when he looked back at you, “but like I said we’re fully booked right now and I don’t suppose we’d get even a tad bit available for the next couple of weeks. I’m gonna need more people to fix every troubled part of your car if you want it back faster, that means we’re gonna be short-staffed at the carwash station.”
It was supposed to be a mindless joke that shouldn’t be taken into consideration.
You were supposed to climb into the passenger seat of his mustang.
He was supposed to give you a ride home as usual.
But then you asked if there was a spare uniform and where the locker room was. Changbin laughed and shooed you away to your next agenda, even almost took off his coveralls and drove you home, but Jisung and the other staff in the carwash station had been in fact overwhelmed with the queue of customers even before Changbin could drag some of them into the repairing station to help fix your car.
“I don’t have anything to do at home anyway,” you insisted, winking an eye at him.
He thought it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands.
Until you came out of the staff room and he gave himself a mental punch in the face because the only spare uniform was impossibly tight.
One could say the same thing about his coveralls that not only did its tight fit flaunt his impeccably sculpted pecs, it was also parading his perfectly round ass and his bulging arms that the short sleeves could barely provide a cover for. It was safe to say he had attracted a good number of loyal customers with his build alone. Adding his sexy brain and charming nature to the mix, he became a target of flirting remarks and dinner invitations. The workshop had easily dodged financial crisis, happy ending.
But this time it wasn’t about him.
The polo top of the carwash team’s uniform was so tight around your neck that you left the top buttons undone. The hem of the shirt barely covered your waist and couldn’t be tucked into the waistband of the shorts that there was a good portion of skin every time you bent over. And the shorts… they hugged your ass nicely. Way too nicely that it left a pinch to imagination—to his imagination precisely.
Apart from sneaky glances of curiosity, the other staff gave little to no further interest and focused on their respective chores. But that was mainly because they knew who they were going to deal with if they stared too long. Changbin was already hard to please, so fishing out even a little bit of his wrath would be like digging their own grave.
The hood of your sedan was opened. Changbin bent over to check the engine. He tried, because his gaze kept straying away towards the carwash station. It would’ve been better if Jisung had offered spare coveralls. It was getting harder to look away especially from the shorts because he knew what was beneath—
THUMP!
How many more times did he have to bump his head against a car hood? He internally scoffed at his questionable professionalism in your presence.
“You okay?” Chan was approaching with his usual essential tools in hand. “You’ve been very distracted.”
From the grin stretching on the older’s face, it was safe to assume Chan knew exactly what—or who—had caused that distraction but chose to tease the younger either way. “I wonder what makes her terribly oblivious when you’re this obvious.”
“Mhm,” Changbin agreed, “but I used to hide it very well.”
Chan opened the door and checked the dashboard warning lights, before immediately sliding out again. He looked in the direction of the carwash station where you and Jisung were guiding the cars into, “I’m surprised your possessive ass didn’t run riot when she came out in that. Our customers are very pleased with the view, you see.”
Changbin knew what Chan was talking about, but Jisung wasn’t assigned—as per Changbin’s own request—beside you to solely ensure you did your part well. Changbin trusted the younger could stave off anyone who crossed the line.
“My advice,” said Chan, settling a creeper in position, “don’t wait too long.”
Changbin snorted, and Chan slid under your car.
You were spraying excessive dirt off of a jeep as it was loaded into the wash. Jisung pointed at the spots that needed an extra cleaning while spraying dead bugs off of the windshield himself.
As soon as you were done and Jisung was guiding the jeep to steer into the wash, the driver instead rolled the window down and spoke to you.
Changbin didn’t have to come closer to catch the jock’s eyes falling to your lower half more often than they should. You laughed at something the driver had said, whipping your head around and looking directly at where Changbin was no longer bending over and was instead standing by the bumpers of your car with folded arms.
He didn’t want to jump into conclusions and thought you were speaking about him to the man as you could’ve talked about your wrecked car or about Chan on the creeper under your car or perhaps even something else entirely different. It wasn’t until the man offered him an awkward grin and a flash of annoyance before rolling up the window and entering the wash.
Changbin wasn’t curious about what you might have told that man at first. But seeing Jisung busted a gut beside you and shook his head while looking at him, Changbin couldn’t help but internally enquiring what could be so funny.
…
The sun had almost set and the majority of the staff had gone home. After showering, Changbin scurried over to his car. He organised his belongings on the backseat and wiped the leather seat clean (that was already clean). He did the same to the front passenger seat. Then he sat behind the wheel, waiting.
An overwhelming scent of musk from his perfume occupied every nook of the interior of his mustang, and wearing perfume wasn’t part of his routine going home. Usually he would only give his body a quick rinse to wash off the grime and dust after having spent the whole day grappling with stinky engines, and settle on a proper shower at home. Not this time.
He didn’t wait long before the passenger door swung open and you rushed inside with your own bag and a chunky looking tote on your lap. The floral scent of your perfume mixed with his musk made the smell inside his car a little dizzying, like walking in the aisle of an endless row of perfume shops.
“Do you not have anything less bigger?” You tried to adjust the hem of the black hoodie that buried your frame in its thick fleece. There was a reason why you had bolted from the shower room to the parking lot... “And maybe some pants?”
Changbin leaned over to you all of a sudden, causing you to recline back onto the seat in surprise. The back of his hand subtly grazed over your bare thigh when he fastened your seatbelt.
“You look amazing.” He teased, starting the engine and departing to the main road.
The chunky tote bag was borrowed from Jisung for your half-wet pullover and skirt. Changbin had tried to wash the motor oil stains off of your clothes earlier with soap and baking soda, and while the remaining light brown patch, like tea stain, wouldn’t have been noticeable on any darker fabric, it was a different case when it came to white clothes. Of course.
“Sorry about your clothes. I’ll buy you prettier ones.” Said he when you tossed your bag and the tote onto the backseat.
“Partly my fault for hugging you and wearing white to the workshop, but I’ll take the offer. I’m free tomorrow.”
He briefly glanced at you with an annoying wriggle of his brow, “is it a date?”
“What else? Field trip?”
He giggled.
“By the way, the jeep driver,” he cleared his throat, “what did he say to you?”
“Just some stuff about his dick,” you shrugged, then your eyes narrowed in a teasing manner, “you already stared when I looked. Why?”
“Gotta make sure you do your job right.”
“So you were definitely not staring at a particular pair of cheeks?”
His crooked smile was enough of a confession.
He slowly pushed the brake as the vehicles around were beginning to move slower. “And what did you say to him?”
“I said,” you beamed, gaze intently affixed on the smooth outline of his face, trying to catch even the subtlest changes in his expression at your response, “it’s hard to satisfy me when the inside of my cunt is already reshaped into the shape of my boyfriend’s big dick.”
Changbin subconsciously clenched his jaw. Something twitched down there.
“Jisung thought it was funny,” you added, “but then he actually asked if I was serious about your cock’s size. He wasn’t the least bit interested in whether or not you’re really my boyfriend…”
“Everybody thought I am.” He said.
“…or whether or not we actually fuck. Is it way too obvious what we do behind closed doors?” You chuckled.
“Chan and Jisung know I’d be with you most of the time when I don’t have work, and according to Jisung I smell like you sometimes. It’s not rocket science for them to piece things together.” Now Changbin wasn’t sure what he felt when he said these things. It was always obscure to him. He got turned on at the thought that you’d willingly use him whenever somebody tried to flirt with you, but at the same time, the way you talked about these things so casually cracked his ego a little bit.
He was going to say something but you beat him to it.
“I gotta tell them that you start everything most of the time because look, a little compliment for your dick and there it is,” Your eyes dropped to the tent he didn’t realise had formed in the middle of his sweats, “let me help you with that?”
Grey sweats were not made to hide a bulge. Not that he was embarrassed, not after you had so casually praised his cock when you knew all too well how it would affect him. But the thing was, he couldn’t possibly say yes to your kind offer in the middle of traffic, could he?
He could. His needs overpowered his common sense and it showed when he took your hand and placed it over his erection.
You smiled in triumph, giving his clothed cock soft strokes with your palm, deliberately pressing your hand over what felt like the head of his half-erected cock. Your hand slipped inside through the waistband, holding the warm girth in your palm. A couple of gentle strokes later, your thumb rubbed over the tip, playing with the sensitive flesh until not long after there was an evident wet patch on the grey fabric indicating his precum. Just a little more… you could see it from his face and muffled groans.
But your hand slipped out.
“Baby…” Changbin clutched your wrist, stroking your skin with his thumb, “just a little more, please. I’m almost there.”
“I know,” you cooed, “I’ll make you feel better, promise.”
The vehicles barely moved, the sun was dipping below the horizon. The golden hour ebbed into nightfall quickly, guaranteeing secretion now that there wasn’t any more sunlight.
Changbin gave in to the heat of infatuation that would have him overthink once he was no longer affected by your intoxicating touches. He preferred your apartment, or at least the backseat of his car for a proper sex, but it wasn’t the time where he could push you away when you were this good.
In the meantime he had to be satisfied with sitting helplessly in the driver seat while you did all the work.
He clutched the wheel tightly, trying to remain intact into the seat despite the slow pace of your head bobbing up and down as your mouth devoured his girth, eager to swallow all the way down to the back of your throat although it was a difficult feat given the size of his length.
You kept your ass in the air and knees nailed to your seat, the hem of the hoodie rolled down and pooled around your chest. If the car windows weren’t layered with privacy films, the pretty view of your panties and firm ass would’ve been a pleasant entertainment amidst the stress of the rush hour traffic. Changbin wouldn’t have liked it.
While one hand gripped the wheel a little more loosely, the other one slithered across the arched plane of your back and further up to where he felt your wet panties. You whimpered at the touch of his fingers against your clothed cunt, making his fully hardened length twitch in your mouth at the vibration.
You sucked his cock delectably and forced yourself to swallow just a tad bit more until you could feel his tip made contact with your throat. His sweet grunts and gentle caresses on your hair were enough of praises for you, “feels good, take me so well, you’re so good…”
His fingers slipped beneath your panties, one digit sliding up and down your wet folds. He gasped when you pulled your head away completely and swirled your tongue around the head of his length, licking the precum that spilled from the slit. Instantaneously his hand clutched a handful of your hair, pushing you down to swallow his cock again, he was so fucking close at this point you could see the tip of his cock the colour of blood.
“I’m sorry, love,” his fingers ran through your hair softly as an additional apology.
You suckled his cock with a hum, too preoccupied to process what the apology was for.
“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he reclined back into the seat, subconsciously ramming his hips up until the head of his cock nudged the back of your throat over and over again.
Your scalp began to sting at his grasp, you whined. The sudden vibration once again sent an electric bliss to the pit of his stomach. His cock twitched inside the warm cavern of your mouth.
Tears formed in your eyes before they flew down at the intensity. Changbin’s cock grew a little bigger indicating his release, but you tried not to graze your teeth. He didn’t even realise he was holding back just to feel you longer, until he couldn’t take it anymore.
The muscles of your mouth contracted in greedy suck, your palm squeezed firm around the base of his cock that couldn’t go into your mouth, sensing how close he was to climax.
A swirl of your tongue was all it took for him to topple over. At the peak of ecstasy, he closed his eyes tight and humped his hips to feel more of your warmth and how it was drawing more and more of his release. His growls were hoarse, savouring the pleasant shockwaves you were bringing upon him.
The car behind beeped the horn at the time he slipped back to reality.
There was quite a wide gap between the bumpers of his mustang and the trunk of the sedan upfront.
“Hey…” he stroked a hand on your head, helping you off his cock and settling you back into the passenger seat, even fastening your seatbelt back on. One hand tugged at the waistband of his sweats to rest around his hips again, the other hand held the wheel and narrowed the distance with the car in front.
After managing a safe distance, he checked on you. He leaned over, ridding off the messy strands out of your face and combing your dishevelled hair.
Maybe he regretted it.
Because the tears rolling down your cheeks, the mixture of his cum and your spit gleaming in the corner of your lips, your lazy blinks, could be the sole reason for yet another climax.
That was an exaggeration of course, but his cock did twitch.
“Was I too rough?”
“No,” you sighed, smiling, “I liked it a lot.”
As all the cars seemed to move little by little, Changbin’s foot lingered in the air atop the gas pedal when he noticed a spacious gap between the cars on his left. In a matter of seconds he had reached a decision. He drifted his car into the wide gap and to the gate of a hotel.
“You’re not planning to reserve a room here now, are you?” After Changbin parked his car in the very far corner, you glanced around at the vast outdoor parking of the facility with only a few cars in sight, and looked up at the contemporary architecture of the hotel.
“We have enough space here,” he chuckled, but added quickly, “unless we’re planning on doing this all night then I’ll surely book us a room.”
“Just a quickie please,” you giggled, unbuckling your seatbelt, “but can you stay the night at my place? We can just cuddle and watch a movie and sleep.”
He agreed in a heartbeat, “I thought you wouldn’t ask.”
He unfastened his own seatbelt and reclined your seat all the way down, catching you off guard. He lifted your legs and spread them to make space for him to settle in between. Your panties were soaked.
He slid your panties up and let the fabric hang around your ankle, putting your cunt on display. Mirroring his impatience, you pulled his sweats down, his hard cock stood proud against his stomach as if he hadn’t just released pretty much a big load just moments before.
You pouted, your whine sounded more sensual than intended, “wanna blow you again so bad.”
He rubbed his cock against your folds, “what, you want me to retract back to my seat now?”
You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer to you. He smiled, “that’s what I thought.”
A wrap was fished out of the dashboard. He rolled the latex around his length.
“You can suck me later all you want,” he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead while his hand guided his cock to align with your entrance, “we’re not in a hurry anyway.”
Changbin thought he might have to keep your car longer in his workshop and make you sit pretty in the passenger seat of his car every day. He wouldn’t mind driving you to work and picking you up if that meant to see you every day.
As the pace of his pounding was progressively getting frantic, his lips moved more affectionately. He left kisses on your shoulder and your collarbones and your neck, making sure to give your skin light sucks until they were adorned by several possessive red marks.
When his lips hovered over your face, he stared at your parted lips. So plump and inviting. He looked up and you were already looking, giving away that you knew where he had been staring.
“Can I?”
It broke the rules.
Kissing on the lips is strictly forbidden as long as the benefits are strictly sexual.
You wanted to give it to someone who shared mutual romantic feelings, you had said the day when the arrangement had been made. Changbin agreed. It was too much to ask anyway.
So, it broke the rules. To make it worse, this wasn’t some sort of a romantic lovemaking where he slowly undressed you on the bed with a night skyline view and a classic love song in the background. This was a lustful quickie as a result of a mind-blowing blow job you had given him earlier.
But you cradled his face in response and he swallowed your moans in an impassioned, wet kiss. His tongue played, and it was rather rough, and yet you could feel it in the kiss that he meant it. That it wasn’t just a kiss he initiated for fun. He wanted it, and so did you.
He could’ve come at the delicious clench of your walls around his girth, but more than that, he felt his heart throbbing abnormally and his stomach tight with pleasure just because your hands cupped his hot cheeks and your thumbs swept gentle strokes on the blushing skin. It was his first kiss with you, and Lords, was it amazing.
Changbin reluctantly pulled away from the kiss to let you breathe. “Okay? Was I too rough? Too much?”
Your lips were a little swollen at this point. “I love it.”
Burying his face in your neck, he grunted, half-high, “gotta satisfy you, yeah?” His thrusts slower but deeper, “gotta reshape your walls into the shape of your boyfriend’s big dick like what you said to that man?”
Something flashed in your eyes, Changbin couldn’t make out what that meant. But you smiled at him, pulling him closer with your legs, hugging him. When he thought you weren't going to say anything, your voice tickled in his ear in a whisper, “my boyfriend’s dick.”
Your cunt swallowed his length all the way to the base. He let you feel the uncontrollable throbs of his cock. He wished he wasn’t hearing things. Boyfriend, you emphasised it.
He rolled his hips a little, making you whine all the more desperately because his cock was pressing right into the spot that gave your stomach a pleasurable knot.
The car seat was wet, stained with your release. At the same time his hips squirmed as he filled the latex with his seed.
He caressed the side of your face, lips planting kisses on your cheeks and forehead.
Boyfriend. He thought to himself. Did you mean it?
a/n: woah it's finally here... i'd put off rewriting this fic for so long. some of you who found me through insta and have read this before, might remember that this was originally leaning more towards pwp, if not very little plot, but since a lot of readers back then wanted a part 2 i thought it'd be better to add more plot. hope you guys enjoyed reading this!
also i was thinking of making a taglist on future posts so let me know in the comments if you'd like to be added! :) <3
honestly, i'm still trying to process that number.
when i started this blog, i never expected so many people to read my stories, support my work, leave kind messages, or wait for my next post. every note, reblog, comment, request and interaction has become part of this journey, and i couldn't be more grateful.
thank you for giving my writing a place to exist.
thank you for staying.
to celebrate this milestone, i've decided to open a special event:
THE WAITING ROOM.
a temporary place for stories waiting to be told.
a room filled with lingering glances, unfinished conversations, late-night thoughts and feelings that refuse to disappear.
for the next few weeks, this room will remain open.
and one by one, new appointments will be called.
⟡ ───────── ⟡
╰ ABOUT THE EVENT
The Waiting Room is a collection of eight exclusive stories created for my 2.6k followers celebration.
Rather than taking requests, this event will follow a planned schedule, with each appointment unveiling a new story and a new experience.
Every appointment has been carefully selected and written to fit the atmosphere of this project.
Some stories will be soft.
Some will hurt.
Some will linger long after you've finished reading.
⟡ ───────── ⟡
⌕ WAITING LIST
Visitors who wish to receive appointment notifications may request a place on the waiting list.
To join, leave a comment, send an ask, or contact me directly.
Five years after a breakup neither of you truly recovered from, an unexpected encounter at a train station forces old wounds back to the surface. Between lingering glances, uncomfortable silences, and memories that never really faded, you're left wondering whether some people are meant to stay in the past—or if certain stories deserve a second ending.
For years, Lee Know has been your closest friend. The same routines, the same places, the same late-night conversations. But when he begins pulling away, you realize something terrifying: maybe he was never just a friend. And maybe you've realized it far too late.
A sudden storm leaves you stranded at Felix's apartment for the night. What begins as a simple escape from the rain slowly turns into something more as the hours pass, conversations deepen, and neither of you seems eager to say goodbye
When everything in your life begins to fall apart, you find yourself standing at Bang Chan's doorstep with nowhere else to go. He doesn't ask questions. He doesn't demand explanations. He simply stays by your side when you need someone the most.
Every night, at the exact same time, a stranger appears at the café where you work. The same table. The same order. The same unreadable stare. You've never learned his name, but the longer he remains a part of your routine, the more unsettling it becomes to realize he may know far more about you than he should.
────────────────
Appointment #006
Visitor:: Kim Taehyung
Status: Pending
⌕ After Hours
Classification:
Romance • Smut • Tension • Mature Themes
Synopsis:
After being accidentally locked inside long after closing time, you're left alone with Taehyung and the tension that has existed between you for far too long. With no distractions and nowhere to run, ignoring your feelings becomes impossible
────────────────
Appointment #007
Visitor:: Park Jimin
Status: Pending
⌕ Right Person, Wrong Time
Classification:
Yearning • Angst • Romance • Fate • Mature Themes
Synopsis:
You and Jimin have spent years crossing paths at the wrong moments. Every meeting feels significant. Every goodbye feels unfinished. No matter how often life brings you back together, timing always seems determined to keep you apart.
────────────────
Appointment #008
Visitor:: Min Yoongi
Status: Pending
⌕ Last Voicemail
Classification:
Heavy Angst • Tragedy • Grief • Emotional
Synopsis:
Months after losing someone he loved, Yoongi finally gathers the courage to listen to old voice messages he never opened. Hidden among them is one final recording—a simple message that arrives far too late and changes everything he thought he understood about the past
⟡ ───────── ⟡
EVENT SCHEDULE
The appointments will be released individually throughout the duration of the event.
Each story will receive its own post and appointment record.
Please be patient while waiting for your turn.
⟡ ───────── ⟡
╰ ROOM REGULATIONS
• Please be respectful.
• Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated.
• Do not repost, copy or translate my work without permission.
• Enjoy your stay.
⟡ ───────── ⟡
╰ CURRENT STATUS
The Waiting Room is now open.
Visitors may take a seat.
Appointments will begin shortly.
⟡ ───────── ⟡
Thank you once again for 2.6k followers.
Whether you've been here since the beginning or found this blog yesterday, thank you for becoming part of this little corner of mine.
w / au's: optional male lead, mdni(18+only), werewolf!au
summary: When you inherit your grandmother’s house in the countryside, you become entranced by a group of men swimming in the lake near the property. Having moved out there in the first place to get away from the busy city life and find something new, free, and exciting, you get to know one of the men in particular. Even if they are loud, rowdy, and oftentimes without clothes when you spot them at your new favorite place, you find such a comfortable ease around them. Though, you quickly learn the lake and the forest around it, plus the men, aren’t exactly what you think.
words: 10,304
my kindle author page~
The sound of a sudden splash on the opposite side of the lake you have been lounging next to for the past hour pulls your eyes from the book in your hands. Your attention is drawn to the water droplets flinging in every direction before you notice one, two, three soaked and smiling men surfacing for air. As you arch a brow, you stare in wonder at the three rowdy guys splashing around, grins reaching their eyes and your jaw only drops when you spot one of them stand up with his body facing away from you, water cascading down every muscle of his toned back all the way to the curve of his ass.
You only wanted to enjoy a quiet afternoon reading beneath the sun as you relaxed on a towel against the dock, overlooking the water every now and then as the soft breeze mixes with chirping birds and the world drowns out around you. Never did you expect yourself to be gawking at three naked strangers after they jumped into the lake to distract you from your book. You find your face swelling with heat the moment the one on the far left grabs the attention of the one standing, all before nodding your way and all three sets of eyes turn to look at you.
The first man flashes a smirk you only catch a glimpse of before your attention turns back to your book once again, but the way your heart pounds in your chest from getting caught only has you reading the same line over and over. You hear the three mumble between them as the breeze draws their quiet chit-chat closer to you, sharing laughter between them, and as you peek over the edges of the white pages, you notice the smirking man swimming towards the dock you’re settled on.
Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, taking a deep breath in an attempt to play it cool, but there’s no doubt in your mind the soaking wet and naked stranger is going to draw attention to the fact that you were staring at them.
“I’ve never seen you here before.” The deep voice has you gripping your book tighter as you bite down hard on your bottom lip, though his tone is soft and friendly and there’s no reason for you to try to hide from him now that he’s right below where your feet are hanging off the edge of the dock. “You must be new around here, huh? What’s your name?”
You gulp, counting to three while taking a much needed, deep breath, and finally muttering your name to him after lowering your book to your lap. “I am new here. I just moved into the house at the end of Olive Route. My grandmother used to live there.”
Your home isn’t far from where your newly dedicated reading spot is at the lake, having moved in only a few weeks prior. You’re now trying to get settled in after your grandmother passed a year before and all the paperwork was finally approved to have the deed in your name, not having too many belongings to move from your cramped apartment in the city, but finding it to be a sign to get away for awhile and enjoy the peace of mind such a small town can give you.
If your grandmother taught you anything, it was to put yourself first, whether it be mental or physical health, nothing was more important. Now that she’s gone, you realize more than ever that you allowed years of school followed by years of work to define you, taking hold of your life and not letting go until you were running ragged and too exhausted every step of the way to even consider taking time for yourself. Moving into her old house seemed like the perfect step to follow her wishes of making an effort to look out for your well-being. Being among nature relaxes you more than you expected, or at least, that’s what you assumed until running into the stranger that is now smirking while staring up at you with his sharp gaze and intense eyes.
He introduces himself as he tells you his name, running fingers through the strands of his dripping wet hair with a grin. “It’s nice to meet you. We don’t see too many new faces around here, so it was a surprise to spot you. Normally it’s just us.” He motions back to his two friends who seem to be whispering between themselves while flashing grins toward the two of you every now and again as they swim around in the lake’s murky waters. He informs you their names and they must have heard him speaking of them from the way their smiles widen as they offer a friendly wave your way.
The heat floods your face once again as you offer a shy, hesitant wave in return, thankful he hasn’t thrown it up in your face that you were gazing at the three splashing around in the water. Which still leaves the question of why they are in the nude, but from him mentioning not having many visitors, you guess privacy isn’t normally a concern for them. You almost feel guilty, as if you’re intruding, but this stranger seems polite enough as he swims near your feet with a smile, not the least bit concerned of the sun shining directly through the water to give you more than a generous peek at his body if you wanted it.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you reply, looking anywhere else but at him in case your eyes are tempted to wander.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your reading,” he begins, swimming past the dock to reach the water’s edge to your left, “hope to see you around soon.”
With that, he stands once again to make his way onto the shore, body dripping with water cascading down every curve, and muscle, and sharp line that exists over his frame, fully on display with not an ounce of shame as he takes his time making the long way around the lake’s edge to reach his friends. Immediately you’re gulping and turning away, snatching open your book in an attempt to not think about how every inch of you is warming up because of him.
*****
You can’t resist heading back to the lake two days later to take a break from cleaning and organizing your new home. The fresh air will do you good after being around so much dust, you tell yourself, though part of you realizes you’re curious if the same rowdy boys will be splashing in the water once again. Though you’re well aware you moved to such a place to focus on yourself while putting your own sanity first, you can’t help but to admit the new friends bring a certain excitement to your otherwise newly plain life. Not that you mind, of course, considering a hectic, exhausting schedule and an overabundance of work was your routine day in and day out and now you enjoy the peace and quiet, but it’s easy to become thrilled by something so new.
You receive your answer only a short while after setting out your blue beach towel against the dock and flipping open your book. It doesn’t take long to hear the rustling of bushes and the crackling of sticks before the blur of three bodies from the corner of your eye earns your attention. One by one they throw themselves into the water with a loud splash, the ripples against the surface even reaching the tips of your toes as you sit on the dock with your legs over the side.
You try to look away, but the sight becomes hypnotizing. Watching them play with one another as their voices travel across the water to reach you, hearing a few foul-mouthed things as the stranger from yesterday grips one of the other boys around the neck before the two become submerged. The other throws his head back as laughter erupts to reach every direction of the woods, voice echoing between the trees and you find yourself grinning at the scene before you without realizing you were staring so hard.
When the two emerge from water to take a breath, a playful shove against one’s shoulder has him cackling just the same. Though, it doesn’t take much longer for the three to notice you sitting on the other side of the lake, their commotion settling at the sight of you until their lips twist into playful grins.
“Hey!” one of the friends yell, running his fingers through his hair to push the soaking strands from his face. “Wanna come in?”
As you stammer and mutter and try to think of a reply, the friendly stranger from before shoves his friend and shakes his head. “Who wants to swim with you?”
You can’t help but to giggle at the question, biting your lip as your cheeks burn with heat. “I’m good for now, thanks!” you yell back at the three, hearing one of the friend’s groans of disappointment as your new polite friend shakes his head and the last man chuckles beside him. As they do so, they find themselves swimming closer to close the distance between you, and you find your heart racing from their attention.
“So you live in the old house at the end of Olive Route, huh?” The last friend mentions, causing you to become curious at what the three have said about you when you weren’t around. Clearly he has mentioned it to the two men lurking by from the day before, and the thought of them gossiping about the new face in town tempts you to giggle.
“Mhm,” you hum, finding it harder to concentrate when they swim so close, lingering near your feet as you skim the water’s surface, clutching your book tighter and taking a deep breath. “My grandmother used to live there, but when she passed away, she gave the house to me.” You don’t mind filling them in on your new life. After all, they seem friendly enough, and it’s not like you have made any other new acquaintances during your first few weeks in the new town.
“Oh,” the other friend begins, mentioning your grandmother’s name with a grin, calling her by a nickname you’ve only heard a few speak before, like friends she played bingo with or the older ladies at the flea market she would take you to when you visited. “She used to bring baked goods for school fundraisers when we were kids.”
The words have your heart swelling with love at the memory of her. She was always baking, or doing something kind, and even a small story told by the three you just met only makes you wish you had visited her more often after getting out on your own. Though, she would have never held it against you for not making the trip to stop by as often as you would have liked, knowing you were too focused on school and then work while she was making desserts for children and taking care of her small town.
“That sounds like her,” you tell the three with a wide smile appearing on your face.
The four of you chit-chat a bit more as the afternoon turns late and they continue to swim around beneath you and play. You learned that the three of them have been close since birth, with their parents being friends before them, and their parents’ parents before that. You don’t have many stories to tell them, realizing your life was consumed with work the past few years more than you would like and it only left you to see you felt emptier, lonelier, when it was all said and done. Though you do mention to the three that you moved into your grandmother’s home for something new and different, and the looks shared between the boys doesn’t go unnoticed. You try to shake off the butterflies that begin fluttering in your stomach at the sight.
You lose track of time sharing little details between yourselves until the three mention they have been in the water too long. You realize you have taken too long of a break from cleaning and organizing, and decide to say goodbye to them for now. You begin to gather up your book and towel in your arms while they begin roughhousing once again, giggling and waving a last goodbye over your shoulder, happy to have met a few new faces you find yourself being comfortable around.
*****
After your conversation with the playful new friends a few days prior, you find yourself itching to go back to the lake just to run into them again. You admit it still gets lonely at times, not having anyone else to talk to besides a phone call from your mother every once and a while, and a distant friend that checks up on you when she has the time to. You realize it’s your own fault for allowing yourself to become so lost in your previous job, but you feel a bit luckier now to have three new neighbors to turn to for a friendly face.
Even if you don’t know the three well after only a few conversations, you find comfort in their presence and playfulness, and they always seem to be polite and kind whenever you come around. Though their complete lack of shame as they splash around naked in the water is something you will have to get used to, wondering if they’re so free and open with every new person they meet. You remind yourself it’s something they have probably done since they were kids, so it has become so normal to them.
When you arrive at the lake, you spot nothing but calm waters. You try to ignore the disappointment filling your chest as you lay out your towel against the dock once again and settle with your book in your lap. You’re sure they don’t go for a swim every day, right? It’s not like you are even good enough friends to be expecting one another, but you can’t deny that the past few times spotting them out near the lake has made your days a little better.
Regardless, you find yourself becoming caught up in your book once again. At least you’ll have the peace and quiet to read, you tell yourself, even if talking to your new friends sounds a bit more exciting. The still waters around you calm you, eventually tossing your legs over the side of the dock to allow your feet to skim the surface as your eyes devour the pages. But it doesn’t take long for the sounds of chirping birds in the distance or the gentle breeze to become interrupted by a rustling in the leaves behind you.
Your eyes dart up as you twist your body to look around, spotting him, the most familiar stranger this town has to offer you, wandering your way. For the first time, he actually adorns a thin t-shirt and dirty, ripped jeans pressing against the muscles of his body, but he performs the same gesture of running strong fingers through the strands of his hair and sighing without a word before settling next to you on the dock.
“Where’s your friends?” you ask him the first thought that pops into your mind to earn a chuckle. It’s clear he’s still in the mood for a swim even if he’s alone from the way he begins plucking at the laces of his sneakers and taking them off, as well as his white socks, one by one.
“One already had plans today, and the other didn’t feel like coming.” He turns to you and smiles before tugging the neck of his shirt over his head to toss aside, leaving his bare chest on display, and you’re nearly embarrassed from the way it has heat filling your face. “So, I have no one to swim with today. Unless…”
You arch a brow, but can’t help to grin. “Unless?”
“Unless you want to swim with me?” he offers, though his tone is a little hesitant and you wonder if he’s worried you will turn him down once again. The thought is tempting, you have to admit, and with only him swimming with you, it doesn’t seem as intimidating. “You’re thinking about it. I can see you’re considering it.” He teases you with a wide smile, gently nudging your arm with his elbow while chuckling.
“Maybe…” you hum, biting your lip to keep from grinning too much.
“C’mon,” he pouts, “I won’t let anything scary get you.”
Before you can reply, he stands to push his jeans and boxer-briefs down to his feet, kicking them off in a swift motion before diving into the deep, cold waters of the lake, not even giving you time to register his naked body jumping past you. The splash from his weight leaves drops hitting your legs and feet to make you squeak and giggle. After a few seconds, he resurfaces, shaking his head to send more water flying in every direction, all before running his hand over his face to rid his vision of loose strands of hair.
“Come on in, it feels amazing!” he beams, and you chuckle and shake your head.
With a heavy sigh, you place your book against your towel after folding the corner of the page to mark your place, thinking to yourself how you can’t believe you’re actually doing this. Even if it is a bit spontaneous, and something you would have never done before, the thought of swimming with a stranger excites you, and he has made you feel nothing but comfortable with him apart from the shyness that creeps up whenever you think about how careless he is with his own clothes.
As you bite your bottom lip, you reach to untuck the tank-top you’re wearing from your shorts, but you pause a moment to turn to him. “Look away.”
His lips turn into a grin at your sudden request, but he obliges, turning his whole body before swimming a little ways from the dock to allow you some privacy. Once you’re more comfortable, you tug your top over your head, followed by unbuttoning and pushing your shorts to your feet, leaving you in your lace bra and panties. You’re not as confident as him, however, so you leave the lingerie on as you have a seat on the dock to ready yourself, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re sinking into the water.
“Ah!” you whimper, beginning to shake from the unexpected temperature as the shock of the water takes hold of your limbs. “It’s cold!”
He turns around the moment he hears your voice, a pleased smile on his lips. “It won’t be for long. You’ll get used to it.” He swims closer to you, leaving only a foot between your two bodies as you move your arms, kick your feet, and try to stay afloat. It’s been too long since you’ve been swimming. “It’s even better naked… you feel more free,” he adds, and a rush of heat swells from the pit of your stomach to every inch of your body.
“Is that why you and your rowdy friends are always out here?”
“Hm, yeah you could say that, among a few other reasons,” he tells you, and you feel as if the two of you are drifting closer to one another without realizing. “We like to swim after a run. It helps us cool down.”
“A run?” you ask. “Are you on a college track team or something?” You can’t help but to giggle as he grins.
“No,” he replies, shaking his head. Before you can pry further, a snap of a twig echoes across the lake, earning your full attention with your head jerking to the right. “Are you scared?” You turn back to him to see his smirk, and you quickly raise your chin to feign more confidence.
“No, but… you never know what can be out in the woods,” you tell him, then add, “or the lake.”
“Don’t be scared,” he laughs, then licks his lips to have a shiver running down your spine. “I’m the scariest thing out here right now, trust me.”
You frown, taken back by his words even if the tone of his suddenly deep, dark voice has you gulping. “You saying that makes me want to do the opposite of trust you.”
“It’s okay,” he tells you, playful voice returning that you can’t help but to give in to, “I like you.”
You open your mouth to speak, but he suddenly submerges himself beneath the water. As luck would have it, the sun has disappeared behind a cloud, no longer illuminating the murky waters for you to see where he swam to, but the black shadow swimming beneath your feet gives you a clue.
“Where’d you go?” you call for him, turning your body behind you in hopes he will pop up at any time now. “Hello?!” Your heart begins to race, wondering why he’s teasing you, and the moment you feel a tug on your foot, you let out a loud shriek of his name.
Before you have time to react, you feel two strong arms wrap around your waist a second before he emerges behind you, gasping for breath and squeezing you tight.
“Hey!” you begin to yell between giggles, attempting to swim away, but he playfully holds you against his chest. “That’s not funny! You scared me!”
“Hey! I told you I wouldn’t let anything scary get you. I meant it!”
“Anything but you, maybe,” you add, laughter shared between the two of you until you feel his grasp on your body tighten. His chest becomes flush against your back, large hands pressed against your flesh to have heat swelling from between your thighs as your heart pounds against your chest.
“Do you mind?” he asks, whispering in your ear with a deep, raspy tone you feel right in your core. You gulp, lowering your hands to rest against the arms that hold you, finding comfort and security in his embrace in the moment even if you aren’t sure why. Without hesitation, you shake your head, telling him you don’t mind at all if he’s so close to you.
“I should get going,” you tell him when he releases his arms from your body.
“Want me to walk you home?” he offers to take you by surprise, heart fluttering from him looking out for you.
“I can manage this time,” you promise him, watching him flash a smile before the two of you are climbing onto the dock to clothe your dripping wet bodies. As soon as you slip your top and shorts on and he manages to at least put on his jeans, you gather your towel and book and say your goodbyes, and he smiles before telling you to get home safely.
*****
Even if your new home in a small town in the middle of nowhere offers more peace than a busy city, you still find yourself waking up from bad dreams occasionally. Maybe your mind has been running too wild, or stresses from your previous life begin to taunt you, having your slumber filled with thoughts of overdue paperwork and bosses scolding you to fill you with shame for doing so poorly.
At least it’s better than the high school dreams, you think to yourself as you crawl out of bed and rub your sleepy eyes. Anything beats dreaming about being late for a test when you already graduated more than six years before. Still, your mind begins to buzz with worries and thoughts of the past, and being in your grandmother’s home only makes you miss her advice and words of comfort when you need them most.
The first thing that pops into your mind as you step into the kitchen for a glass of tap water from the sink is the lake. For a few weeks it has brought you comfort and a nice distraction, and after bad dreams, you feel the need for fresh air to clear your suffocating mind. After gulping down the water to clear yourself of a dry mouth, you exchange your nightgown for an oversized t-shirt and jean shorts before slipping your shoes on at the front door.
You don’t bother locking it behind you.
No one comes out this far anyway, you tell yourself.
As you bounce down the steps to your front porch, the midnight air filling your lungs already puts your mind at ease. With the moonlight guiding your way along the dirt trail past the rows of trees, you make your way to the lake’s edge in no time, taking in the serene sight of calm waters and listening to the chirping of crickets around you.
It becomes easy to let go of the bad dreams and stresses in such a peaceful environment. You feel like you can breathe deeply again and it doesn’t take long to feel the weight of past burdens lift from your shoulders. You take another long, deep breath and close your eyes to enjoy the brush of midnight air against your skin. For once, you don’t mind being so alone when it does its job of clearing your head.
The moment doesn’t last too long, however. Suddenly hearing a rustling of bushes to your left causes your attention to turn to the noise as your eyes pop open.
“Hello?” you call out, though you want to assume it’s nothing but a wild animal. A snap of some twigs and crunching of leaves sounds a bit more like larger footsteps than small paws can offer, you realize, finding your heart racing as you speak again. “Is someone there?”
Your first thought is the noises possibly coming from him, or one of his two friends. After all, they are the only ones you have ever spotted this far out of the town’s limits, but when you receive no reply, your knees begin to shake with uncertainty. You remain silent for a moment, listening, waiting, until a shuffling between trees of some sort from behind you has your entire body jerking toward the sound.
And when you do so, your whole body’s weight shifts to one foot as your ankle rolls against the dock, misstepping to send your balance off center. You try to regain control of your footsteps, until your shoe snags on a warped board against the dock, sending your body falling forward before you can stop yourself.
It all happens so quickly. You shut your eyes as you let out a yelp, crashing face first into the water’s surface with a splash that echoes between the forest’s trees. You flap your arms and kick your legs, trying to figure out which way is up, but the light from the moon is too dim and every inch of the water beneath the surface remains pitch black. You open your mouth to release the breath in your tightening lungs, only to have it filled with lake water in an instant.
The adrenaline shooting through you does no good for your muscles that begin to ache out of a struggling fear that consumes you. The seconds tick by as you struggle to reach the surface, but the moment takes hold in the form of confusion while trying to swim for even just a breath of air.
It’s not until you feel two arms wrap around your body to pull you closer to the surface do you begin to give up. The quickness of exhaustion setting in when you’re struggling to swim after being startled leaves you helpless, and the moment you feel your face break that water’s surface is when you finally gasp for a deep breath to fill your desperate lungs.
The arms around you hold you tight, pulling you to the water’s edge with your back hitting the dirt shore hard. Gasping, struggling to breathe, yet body remaining limp and lifeless, you blink a few times until your vision begins to clear.
“Are you okay?” someone asks, and it takes a few seconds for the familiar voice to register in your mind. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe, I’ve got you. I’m here.”
He continues speaking, causing you to blink a bit more, taking a deep breath to calm yourself until you recognize the face staring down at you belongs to your new lake friend, spotting his wet hair with drops dripping from every strand and a soaked t-shirt clinging to the muscles of his chest. He grips the sides of your face as he scans your body for any injuries or issues, and brings his gaze back to your eyes to make sure your breathing is steadied.
“What… what happened?” you ask between coughing and struggling to sit up right. “What... what was that? I thought I heard…” He places a hand on your soaking wet back to make sure you can sit up right.
“You really shouldn’t be out here at night.”
“What?” You’re taken back by his suddenly stern, yet worried tone. He leans closer, brushing a few dripping strands of hair from your face to display his concern.
“It’s not safe, okay?” His voice softens with every word, hand cupping your face to earn your full attention. “I was joking before with you, but I’m serious this time. Don’t come here at night.”
“But…”
“Let’s get you home. You’ll catch a cold.”
He doesn’t allow you to say anything else, or ask anymore questions, as he helps you to your feet. You remain confused and shaken, but you allow him to take care of you, throwing one of your arms to hook around his neck while he wraps a hand around your hip. He guides you to your home with quiet directions from you, mind running wild, but the seriousness of his words rests heavy on your mind. You aren’t sure what he means, but you’re no fool not to believe him, and you decide you don’t want to find out any more details in the moment.
“Thanks,” you whisper as the two of you travel up the steps of your front porch. Once at your front door, he finally releases you from his grip, giving you a look from head to toe once again to make sure you’re okay.
He only hums and nods, clearly just as worried about something he isn’t comfortable speaking about, and you don’t push him. You feign a weak smile before pushing the door to your home open and stumbling inside, dripping puddles on the floor beneath you that you can’t care about in the moment. Your back presses against the door once it’s closed behind you, pausing to take a deep breath for a moment and try to understand what happened.
Why was he so worried? Did he see whatever was in the bushes that startled you in the first place?
You realize you can’t worry about it now. You’re too exhausted and in need of a shower, but before heading to the bathroom to strip yourself of soaking wet clothes, you take one peek out of the blinds covering the two small windows on your door. However, you fail to see him leaving your home along the long, dirt trail into town. Instead, the only thing you spot is a fluffy, white tail bouncing along side to side before disappearing into the darkness.
*****
It takes you nearly a week to gather the courage for a walk down to the lake, but you do so without your favorite book or beach towel to accompany you. This time, you only wish to become comfortable around the water in the middle of nature once again. After becoming startled and falling into the lake, only for him to conveniently be around to save you, you weren’t sure if you would find as much peace as before.
But it doesn’t take long for the calmness of the water to put your mind at ease, finding the sun shining on your skin to be the rejuvenation you need after spending so many nights wondering over his words. You slip your shoes off and settle against the dock, allowing your feet to skim along the water’s surface like you always do, with your hand clasping the edge of the wooden boards and your eyes closing to soak in everything around you.
It also doesn’t take long for the three boys to bring commotion to the lake’s still waters. They run in with a loud splash, and can't help but to smirk to see the three of them together once again. The moment one of his friends spots you between their playing and splashing around, he nudges your brave rescuer to have your heart climbing in your throat. Surely he informed them of what happened a week before, and it doesn’t surprise you when he turns to whisper something to the other two before swimming across the lake to reach you.
Before he can make it to you, you decide to make it a bit easier on him. Grabbing your shoes in your arms, you tuck your feet beneath you to stand and make the trip to the water’s edge. He receives the hint, swimming past the dock just as you settle in the dirt with your arms wrapped around your knees. Once he reaches you, he has no shame uncovering his body from the water before his back falls into the dirt next to you, grinning after exhaling a heavy breath.
“I was scared you weren’t going to come back here after the other night.”
Your heart skips a beat at his worry, as well as the way you try to avert your gaze not to gawk at his bare body beneath the rays of sunlight. “I thought about it,” you tell him honestly.
“I’m glad you came back.”
You smile at his words. “Me too.” Then you sigh, and his warning continues to weigh heavy on your mind from the other night. “But, I can’t stop thinking about what you said. Why shouldn’t I be out here at night? What’s out here that I should worry about… besides you?” The last few words only tease him slightly, though part of it remains true. He is intimidating even if you feel comfortable around him. Maybe it’s the stress of being startled, but you admit you’re thankful he was there in the nick of time to save you.
“Me?” He chuckles, sitting up straight with his arms resting on his knees. “Well, I hope you know by now that I would only want you to be safe. I would never cause you harm, or allow anyone else to. These are our woods, after all.”
His words have you gulping, chest blossoming with the sudden warmth of the care he shows for you and you try to stop your heart from beating wildly in fear of him hearing the way it pounds so hard against your chest. Not to mention the lingering, swirling sensation from his statement dividing your stomach in two. You’re pretty sure he isn’t talking about him and you when he says ‘our woods’.
“But, there are other things.”
“What kind of things?” you ask, inching closer, hanging onto his every word. He turns to you with a smirk, looking you from head to toe with a lick of his lips that tempts you to shudder beneath his intense gaze.
“Are you sure you want to know?” As he asks, he reaches to brush a few loose hairs from your face, before his palm cups your cheek and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, licking his lips once again from the way he feels you tremble against his touch. “There are scary things, things that would only get a hint of your scent and not be able to control themselves.”
You find yourself gulping once again from his words, opening your mouth to attempt a reply, but as his hand drops to your neck and his thumb runs along the curve of your throat, from your jaw to your collar bones. You can only mutter a few words in return. “My scent, like the way I… the way I smell?” You blink, confused, and he chuckles at the way you whispered the last few words.
“Mhm,” he hums, causing your breaths to deepen and the baby blue sundress you’re wearing to tighten against your breasts from the way your body reacts to his touches. “You smell incredible.”
Before your mind has too much time to run wild with his words, he pulls away from you.
“Which is why it’s dangerous for you.”
But the desire is already there, as well as the heat swelling from between your thighs. “Maybe I want it to be a little dangerous.” You barely recognize your own voice as you speak the words, but you can only blame him for that.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes I do,” you stand your ground. For so long you were the prisoner of strict schedules, textbooks, and then nine to five’s and praying for overtime so you can afford rent. You weren’t living, only existing, and something about being with him makes you feel so alive it’s terrifying, but you can’t resist. “I know what I want.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“So what? People have h-hook-ups all the… all the time!” Your confidence fades at the mere mention of sex, something you would have once been ashamed for even thinking, let alone speaking out loud to the man you find irresistible.
“No,” he chuckles in a dark tone, turning to you once again to grip you by the back of the neck and meet your eyes with a fire in his own. “I mean, you don’t know what I am.”
Your bottom lip begins to quiver, words wavering with every syllable, but you don’t back down. “Tell me.”
“Why do you trust me so much?”
“I… I don’t know,” you tell him, wishing you knew the answer as his defenses soften from your own honesty. “I don't know, I just… I just do. I can feel it, especially after the other night. I know you won’t hurt me. I know you care about me. Maybe because of my grandmother or you’re just as curious about me as I am about you, but I just… I can feel it.”
“You’re right.”
“Then what’s wrong?” With that, you sigh, nearly admitting defeat. “Do you not… not want me?” Your tone cowers as you lose the last bit of confidence, wondering if you have been reading the signals all wrong.
But when he grips you tighter, exhaling a heavy breath from his lips, you swear you hear a rumble in his chest that sounds similar to a growl erupting inside of him. “You have no idea how much I want you.”
Your breath catches in your throat for a moment, blinking to allow the strained, desperate words to register in your mind. “Then… take me.”
He hesitates, gazes drifting from your eyes, to your lips, to the way your chest swells with need in every breath, and back again. There’s a tug-of-war going on inside him, and he bites his lip and exhales a heavy sigh before leaning toward you. His lips clash with your own and in desperation you reach for him, whimpering against his skin and tugging so tight against his shoulders your nails dig into his flesh. He groans in return, becoming greedy, parting your lips with his tongue as he savors every ounce of the way you kiss him, but before he becomes too carried away, he pushes himself off of you.
“Meet me here,” he gasps, body tense, as if he’s trying to resist the temptation that is you, “tonight. Right here, okay?”
“But you said…”
“I’ll protect you,” he interrupts, fists clenched and nostrils flaring. “Will you come?”
You knew there’s no way you could deny him. “Of course.”
*****
Your heart couldn’t beat any faster inside your chest as you make the trip from your house down to the lake. With shaking knees, each step becomes harder than the last, but the thrill of being with him keeps you going. Even if you’re uncertain about venturing to the lake at night after his warning, you find yourself trusting him more than you realized. You’re more than confident he meant every word about keeping you safe.
You travel to the same spot the two of you were settled together earlier in the day. The cold chills your skin and you hug your arms to your body tighter, a shiver races down your spine as you hear a distant howl mix with the breeze whistling through the trees. The moonlight is dim, but it did a good enough job lighting your way to the lake, heart pounding against your chest the longer you wait on him.
As the minutes tick by, your confidence that he will show up fades. The cold breeze begins to get to you, goosebumps spreading over your skin as a chill surges through you to earn a shiver. You wait a little longer, shifting your weight from foot to foot and sighing, peering all around you for any sign of him.
Just when you’ve nearly given up hope and turn from the lake to head back to your home, your eyes pop at the sight of the same white fur before you that you noticed the other night disappearing into the darkness. Two bright, yellow eyes start back at you to keep you frozen in place, watching the creature. A large, intimidating wolf takes a step forward. Large paws leave prints in the dirt as it grows near, a black snout sniffing the air around it and ears perking when you exhale a heavy breath you weren’t aware you were holding.
The creature remains calm, however, never lunging or even moving too swiftly to take you by surprise. Its presence finds a way to comfort you when you realize the same safety you feel when you’re with him takes hold of you. The wolf lowers its head a second before he lays flat against the ground, displaying anything but aggression before you. And you find yourself mimicking its motions, dropping to your knees with your hands resting in your lap to show your trust in the creature.
In the blink of an eye, however, the wolf’s fur begins to recede as spots of human flesh appear in patches. Your eyes pop at the sight, jaw hanging open while noticing the snout retracting and bright, yellow eyes darkening into a deep, familiar color. Fingers extend from the paws and the strong curve of muscles begin to surface, and second by second the creature shifts right before your eyes before your mind has time to register the process.
Until you’re no longer staring at an animal, but the gasping, human body of him on his hands and knees before you, fingers digging into the dirt and spine bent in a devilish arch to leave you shuddering at the sight. It takes him a few seconds to regain control of his human mind, but your jaw remains slacked and you feel as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe. Every ounce of air is sucked from your lungs, eyes so wide they begin to strain, bottom lip trembling as you try to make sense of what just took place before you.
All you can manage is a mutter of his name, voice so weak, confused, but you remain unafraid as he peeks at you through his lashes.
“I wanted to show you,” he begins the moment he catches his breath. “I wanted you to know what I was.”
“I don’t… but you…” You fail to complete proper sentences, blinking, rubbing your eyes, expecting any second to be back in your bed. If the bad dreams weren’t getting to you, you expect they were now, but him crawling toward you with caution and the cold air sending a chill down your spine tells you it’s real. He’s real, and he’s no human. Now you understand what he meant when he told you it was dangerous, and he was the scariest thing around. You should be afraid. You should be running.
But you sit still, allowing him to crawl to you, accepting him with hands reaching to thread fingers through his hair to grip the strands tight. He peers up at you, waiting on you to give in to him now that he’s shown you everything, and you can’t back out now, not hesitating to pull him close.
Your lips collide as he pulls your body against his own naked flesh to hold you tight. His skin burns like fire to warm you beneath the chill of the midnight air, every move of his lips against your flesh igniting a flame of pure desire within you, every touch tempting your body to beg for more. You whimper against his lips until his kisses trail to your jaw, tongue swiping over your skin for a taste that has him growling against your body. The noise vibrates you to your core, shaking with anticipation as the desperation burns between your thighs.
He has you on your back in seconds, licking along your neck, kissing here and there just to hear you moan his name. He teeth scrape along your exposed collarbone while his hands push the hem of your dress up to your hips. His touches are electric, sending surges of warmth to every inch of your body as his fingertips dance along your panty line. His lips pamper your chest until he reaches the swell of your breast over your sundress, your own back arching to beg without words for more.
But he suddenly stops, earning a whimper of a protest from your lips until he places a tight grip on your wrists, pushing your arms above your head and pinning your hands into the dirt.
“Are you sure?” He gulps, and takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring and chest rumbling with another growl of pure desire. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes,” you whimper, not even hesitating for a second, pressing your thighs to his sides and rolling your lower half against his body. “Please.”
It’s all the convincing he needs. The way you beg him has the temptation rising until he snaps, lips colliding with yours once more as his hands roam your body. His palms brush over your breast to have your chest pushing into his grasp while he kisses a trail from your mouth to your neck. He growls against your skin, becoming greedy as the despereation to have you takes hold, and the way you whimper his name and open your body to him only increases the tension and desire between the two of you.
He grips the straps of your dress, for a split-second hearing the sharp tear of fabric echo into the night’s sky before he’s pulling the flimsy material aside to leave you in nothing but sheer, black panties. The motion is so quick, taking you by surprise as the breeze chills your skin and ghosts over your body. But his mouth has the warmth swelling from between your thighs, sending waves of heat to every inch of your body as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties while his mouth teases an erect nipple. His tongue circles around the flesh and you can’t help but to entangle shaking fingers between the strands of his hair while soft moans fill the air.
“Please,” you beg him, feeling the ache between your legs growing the longer his tongue toys with your hardened nipples. He groans at the sound of your voice, becoming impatient himself before his mouth lowers down your stomach. He leaves a trail of desperate, quick kisses between growls erupting in his chest, and the sound has you shaking with anticipation.
Before he can stop himself, he lowers his body just enough to have his teeth sinking into your inner thigh, earning a gasp from the slight sting sinking into your flesh until the heat of red hot pleasure swells within you. He latches on as the band to your panties is snapped, just like your dress before, the muscles of his chest and arms tensing as he does so and the moment takes over him. He has to have you, taste you, fuck you into the dirt until the two of you are sweaty, and messy, and out of breath. The urges inside of him rise to the surface as he tosses the shredded remains of your panties aside and releases his bite on your thigh before parting them wide for him, not hesitating to sink his head between your legs and begin devouring you for every drop of arousal you offer him.
“God!” you gasp with his name following, back arching from the water’s shore with the first swipe of his tongue along your slit. He wastes no time tasting you, parting your folds with his tongue dipping into your entrance to gather up the juices that drip out for him, all before trailing up to your clit to offer quick, needy circles around the swollen bud. Your thighs shake around him, listening to the deep groans and heavy growls filling his chest as he pleasures you, with his hands on your hips to hold your body steady and your own fingers lowering to tug on the strands of his hair. “Please… don’t stop.”
He groans from the desperation in the words and the way your voice shakes with every syllable. Your thighs tighten around his head, but he never slows his pace at lapping up your juices, swirling his tongue around your clit, or teasing your aching entrance as you beg him for more. He growls between your legs like a hungry animal, loving the way you taste and call his name, enjoying the arousal dripping on his tongue and how you quiver in his hold. Your body is on fire from the bliss swelling inside of you as the world drowns out around you, no longer consumed with worries or stress, but succumbing to the pleasure he offers.
“Oh my God…” You whimper his name mixed with curses, but his tongue has left you so speechless you can no longer warn him that you’re growing close to the edge. When his lips press to your flesh and he sucks on the hood of your clit, your entire body tenses as your mind becomes fuzzy with ecstasy. He knows exactly how to keep your body worked up, circling your clit in a steady motion, lowering to lick up the juices that spill before swallowing every drop with a groan.
He mutters between your legs something about how fucking delicious you taste, but the words barely reach your ears from the way you continue to whimper and moan. You’re shaking in his hands, legs beginning to twitch the longer he tends to your aching, soaked center. Part of you wonders if he’s enjoying it just as much as you, loving having his face buried between your thighs while you tug on his hair. Your curiosities are answered each time he groans and growls against your flesh.
The tension tightens and the heat swells at your core, feeling yourself barrelling over the edge due to his mouth. His expert maneuvers between your thighs have you crying out for him, voice drowning between the trees all around and the thought that you are out in the open where anyone could watch the two of you never crosses your mind. The pleasure building in the pit of your stomach takes hold of your body, and your mind, focusing on nothing but the way his mouth presses to your folds and his tongue draws out every sinful whimper of you begging him not to stop.
You call out for him a final time before the tension snaps, bursting into red hot heat flooding your body. The bliss fills you to every inch, hips bucking against his face, thighs trembling, fingers falling from the the strands of his hair as your back arches from the dirt. He continues licking up your slit as you come undone, drawing out every little cry and whimper and moan that is just for him, loving the way your body moves in pure ecstasy against him and loving even more that he’s the reason you feel so damn good.
When you finally settle from the high, he lingers between your thighs for a bit longer. His tongue darts out to lick up the essence of your orgasm, wanting to taste you a bit more until you’re trembling in sensitivity and calling out his name.
In a second he’s hovering over you, hands pressed in the dirt near your head, taking in the sight of your bare body beneath him as your chest heaves and your eyes flutter. He licks his lips and smirks only a moment before he dips his mouth to press his lips to your own. The kiss is fiery hot as you taste your pleasure on his flesh, but it warms you all over again as your tongues collide and he groans against you.
It doesn’t take you long to become desperate for him again, wanting to feel him inside of you, wanting to be so close to him. The ache between your thighs returns, and from the way he pulls away to grip your hips and flip your body over, you’re aware he’s dying for the same. Your hands and knees hit the dirt with your back bent and your ass in the air, and he pulls your soaked slit against his aching hard cock with a swift tug of your hips.
He grinds himself against you, huffing and panting and groaning, feeling the way you move your ass against him while calling out to him. “Please,” you gasp as his fingers dig into your side, “please… fuck me.”
The desperation in your tone mixed with the weakness of a low, trembling voice earns a growl building deep within his chest. He can wait no longer, quickly lining his length up to your dripping, readied entrance before sinking his cock deep inside of you. His motions remain careful even if he’s desperate to have you, easing into the juices that drip out for him as you cry out in pure bliss. He fills you up and the noises of him thrusting inside of you, the messy squelch of a cock buried deep, mix with his groans and your own whimpers. He allows you to adjust as your head begins to spin, concentrating on the feeling of him inside of you, his hands on your waist, his hips against your ass.
When you begin to whimper his name once again, he begins to pull away, only to grip you tighter to smear the dirt against your body while thrusting himself back into you with a snap of his hips. The animal in him takes over the moment he feels you squeezing yourself around his length, groaning, growling, repeating the motion of slapping his hips against your ass and burying his cock deep within you.
The pressure rises and the tension coils in the pit of your stomach, digging your fingers deep into the dirt to try to hold on to your sanity. Sweats beads over your skin just the same as him, crying out for him, moans mixing with curses to form a stream of a pure sinful melody from your lips. His powerful thrusts behind you quicken, causing you to grow weak before him as your body begins to quiver in his grasp, and he quickly catches on to have an arm wrapping around your ribcage.
He pulls you closer to him, body molding with your own, sweaty, dirty chest pressed to your back that remains just as filthy, twitching his hips, fucking you harder to have your eyes screwing shut and your jaw slacked. The whimpers and moans of his name grow quiet as you grow breathless, pleasure taking hold of every inch of your body once again until your toes are curling and he’s whispering deep and dark in your ear from behind.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groans between clenched teeth, snapping his hips against you once again to leave you shaking, “so fucking wet, and tight squeezing around me like that.” His words have a burst of heat surging through you as you latch onto his arm wrapped around you tight, never letting go.
You cry out, wanting to warn him you’re growing close to the edge once again, mind growing numb, everything around you fading into black. But he doesn’t give you the chance to speak before his teeth are sinking into the flesh of your neck from behind, latching on in a firm grip while growling once again. The sting of his bite only burns for a second before the pleasure takes hold, loving the way he marks you as his own and loving even more the way he fucks you. “Fuck… oh my God…”
Before you can whimper anything else, the pleasure erupts inside of you, red hot heat unraveling to every limb, every finger and toe, and swarming your mind as you become lightheaded. Your body grows limp in his hold before his arm grips you tighter, keeping you steady, pumping into you from behind, allowing you to ride out the high with him deep inside of you.
He doesn’t stop thrusting his hips even as you come down. He chases his own pleasure inside of you, hitting deep within your walls as your own arousal drips out around him. The slick and messy noises mix with his groans and praises of how incredible you feel wrapped around him, heat continuing to rush to your face as your entire body becomes overly sensitive.
With one final, sharp inhale, the bliss takes hold of him. His hips slow as he begins to release inside of you, filling you up with a few huffs and grunts, creating a bigger mess between your thighs. He thrusts one last time as the last few drops spill from him, continuing to hold your body close until you’re both too spent to hold your own weight.
The two of you collapse against the water’s shore, dirty, and messy, and sweaty, but he pulls you close enough to press his lips to your forehead. His hand caresses your hip as you lay next to him grinning and trying to catch your breath, finding his sudden affection to be the perfect aftermath of your pleasure. And when he regains enough strength, he nuzzles closer to you, kissing your lips, and your cheek and jaw, before his mouth brushes over the spot he bit along your neck earlier. No doubt you’ll be a bit sore in more places than one when you awake in the morning, but he tends to you with affectionate kisses and touches to help sooth your body in the moment.
“Do you want to go for a swim?” he suggests with a smirk, and it causes you to giggle. Of course he would offer such a thing, but with your body on cloud nine and your heart fluttering from how he can go from passionate lover to gentle and sweet, you would probably agree to anything in the moment.
All you can offer is a nod before he helps you to your feet, the two of you carefully walking to the water’s edge, dipping your toes in first to test the temperature, only to realize you’re still too hot and sweaty to care. He guides you into the water with care, never releasing his hold on you, allowing you to lean your body into him as he keeps the two of you afloat.
“You’re right,” you mention after a while, and after a few more kisses shared between the two of you, “swimming naked does make me feel more free.”
“I told you,” he chuckles and pulls you close in the water to pamper you with his lips falling to your neck, so concerned over where he’s bitten even though you pay it no mind. You’ve never been so spoiled after being with someone, and you have to admit the way it has your chest swelling with affection for him.
You whisper his name when he pulls away from your body, “I can’t say that I understand what’s going on, and part of me still feels like I’m dreaming, but…”
He grows silent, all smiles and grins fading while listening to your every word, so you continue.
“I feel safe with you, and I like being with you. It’s not just the water that makes me feel free, or being out here, but you as well.” You pause for a moment to collect your thoughts, mind racing once again, but all you can focus on is the way he makes you feel in the moment. “And I guess that’s all I really want to understand right now, because that’s all that matters to me. The rest I will figure out later.”
He smiles, kissing your lips again. “I’m so glad I ran into you that day,” he admits with a grin. “I’m extra glad my friends caught you staring at us naked… otherwise I wouldn’t have swam over.”
You tried to hide your face from him, becoming embarrassed and grinning wildly, but he takes hold of you, kissing your lips, and soothing all of your worries.
A/N: This is my first fic on here!! I hope u enjoy :3
18+ MDNI
Pairing: Virgin!readerXexperienced!Chan
Warnings: eventual smut, fluff, angst, reader is inexperienced and a virgin, reader is fairly innocent, mention of cheating, reader is depressed, loss of virginity, piv, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, dom!chan, sub!reader
WC: 3.8K (is this too unhinged for my first fic? lmao)
The headaches after a crazy night of drinking were truly the worst. It was a Saturday afternoon and you’d been hitting “snooze” on your phone for the last hour, enjoying 8 minute increments of sleep before you finally decided to drag yourself out of bed.
You’d caught your boyfriend of two years cheating on you two nights ago.
Your friends had forced you to come out with them last night. It had been a sweet gesture, but you weren’t sure if alcohol was the right way to deal with it.
You sighed and started the coffee maker, leaning against the counter. You glanced outside, down at all the cars and people bustling about.
After a moment, you pulled your phone off the charger next to your bed and scrolled through at least five different breakfast options before deciding to just order from a local place. They were affordable and yummy.
While you waited for the food to arrive, you poured some coffee into a cup, adding as much or as little sugar and creamer that would allow you to get through the day without wanting to punch something.
As you took that glorious first sip, the doorbell rang. You set your coffee down by the couch and peered through the peephole, smiling and opening it a second later. You thanked the man who passed you the bags of food and closed the door again, setting it next to your coffee cup.
Half an hour later, you’d devoured every bit of food in that plastic container and wanted to go into a food coma for a hundred years. Surely your ex would be dead by then.
You checked your messages since you finally had the willpower.
Your best friend had texted a few times to ask if you’d gotten home okay and if you were feeling better.
You wanted to say “no, im not okay, im trying not to bawl every two seconds” but that felt a bit dramatic.
But it was true.
Two nights ago, you’d opened the door to your apartment after a long shift, ready to relax and rest, but instead, you’d been greeted by the sounds of a woman moaning terribly loud, louder than your now-ex had ever made you moan.
It had been the only thing on your mind for 48 straight hours. You felt inadequate, angry, sad, and every emotion in between.
After typing out a reassuring paragraph and thanking her for taking your mind off of things for at least a little while, you put your phone back down.
That’s when you heard some commotion in the stairwell. Curious, you peered out the peephole once more. You were met with a broad back, clad in a sweaty black tank top.
The man also had dark curly hair, but you couldn't get a good look at his face. He seemed to be carrying a box, and a few other boxes sat outside the door.
You vaguely remember your elderly neighbor telling you he was moving out a few weeks ago. Backing up from the door, a lightbulb went off in your head.
When your elderly neighbor had moved in, you’d made him cookies.
The idea of being neighborly thrilled you, as stupid as it may have sounded, and you wanted to make the new guy cookies. What if he didn’t have any friends in the area?
You got to work immediately, gathering ingredients and supplies. You spent about an hour in total preparing them, and soon enough you had a warm, fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies wrapped on a plate to bring to the newcomer.
You stepped into the stairwell, staring at the door opposite yours for a few moments.
Why were you so nervous all of a sudden?
You took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. You heard it faintly echo in the apartment, then a moment later, you heard footsteps approach the door.
It was a second before the man opened the door.
To say you were caught off guard would be a massive understatement.
The man had gorgeous tan skin, full lips, brown eyes, and features sculpted by the gods themselves.
You blinked, temporarily forgetting yourself.
"Uh, hi! I'm Y/N. I live across from you, and I noticed you moving some boxes earlier. I made you cookies to say welcome, and also if you need anything, you can ask me," You rambled, smiling shyly as you held the plate up a bit more.
The man chuckled softly and took the plate, "Y/N, hm? I'm Christopher. My friends just call me Chan, though." He replied. You nodded eagerly, which made his smile widen.
A moment of silence passed between you, and you said, "Well, I'll let you get back to unpacking. Hope you enjoy the cookies!" Before you scurried back inside your apartment, heart beating at a million beats per minute.
*
The rest of the day passed in a blur. You switched back and forth from thinking about your new neighbor to replaying the night you found your ex cheating on you.
Your emotions were all over the place, but the one that stayed consistent was betrayal. You couldn't believe he'd done that.
You thought everything was fine.
You thought being a virgin wasn't a big deal to him.
He'd said it wasn't a big deal.
Obviously he'd been lying.
Before you could mope for too long, you decided to get off the couch and just go to sleep. However, halfway down the hall to your room, there was a knock on the door.
"Y/N! Open the door!" Your ex's voice echoed in the stairwell.
You froze.
Why was he here? Surely he didn’t think he was winning you back.
Turning back toward the living room, you crept toward the door, wielding a bat. You peered through the peephole. He was standing there, hands on his hips, looking annoyed.
Absolutely the fuck not, you thought.
You backed up, unsure what to do. Should you call the police? You fumbled for your phone in your back pocket and brought up the keypad, your thumb hovering over it for a moment before you typed in “911”
The line connected after one ring. "9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"My ex boyfriend is outside my apartment... I don't know what he wants," You whispered, voice shaking.
The woman's voice on the other end was calm, collected. "What's your name and address, ma'am?"
"763 Azalea Lake. I'm apartment 118. And my name is Y/N." You replied.
Silence, then the woman said, "Okay. The police are on the way. Can you stay on the line for me?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I can."
"Is this a recent breakup?"
"Yes. He cheated on me. But I don't know why he's come back. He hasn't even tried contacting me." You explained.
"I'm right here, Y/N. The police are almost there." She assured, and for some reason, it made you want to cry. She was just doing her job, but it was so reassuring to hear those words.
After another five minutes of standing as far from the door as you could and speaking to the woman, you could hear your ex say something loudly. It sounded as if his words were slurred. You heard another louder, authoritative voice as well.
"The police are here, I think. He's slurring his words, so I think he's drunk." You relayed. The operator hung up after saying goodbye.
After a moment of listening to his voice grow fainter, a knock resounded through the room. You rushed to open it. A police officer stood there. "Y/N?" He asked. You nodded.
"Your ex boyfriend has been taken into custody. He was evidently intoxicated and holding a broken piece of glass. If you have any more concerns, don't hesitate to call again." The man said, and you nodded again while you watched him head down the stairs. You closed the door, letting out a sigh that you didn't realize you’d been holding.
You flinched when the doorbell rang. Upon peering outside, you were surprised to see Chris standing there. You opened the door. "Chris?" You asked.
"I was, uh, watching. Are you okay?" He asked gently.
"I... don't know. I probably won't be sleeping tonight." You admitted.
He nodded understandingly. "I could... keep you company?" He suggested. You didn't realize you were nodding until he smiled a little. It made your heart skip a few beats. You moved out of the way and closed the door behind him.
"Um. it's kind of messy right now, sorry," You said sheepishly.
Chris shrugged. "It's alright. Who was that guy?" He asked.
"That was my ex boyfriend. We broke up a few days ago because he was cheating on me," You explained as you sat on the couch again. He sat down, too.
"Ah." Was all he said. You didn't blame him, since you wouldn't know how to respond to that either.
"I guess when he said he didn’t care that I was a virgin, he was a liar," You added, softer this time.
Chris looked over at you and you wanted to disappear. "That's stupid," He scoffed, and it was your turn to look at him.
"I bet he didn't do any grand gestures for you either, huh?" He continued, and you nodded slowly, wondering how he knew that. "Or celebrate you at all? Did he even remember your birthday?" He asked. You shook your head.
"Wait, how do you know that?" You asked.
"It's always the same with those types of guys. They wouldn't know a good thing if it hit them in the balls."
You chuckled, and he seemed to perk up when he saw your smile.
It fell quiet again, but it wasn't an awkward quiet. You felt genuinely seen and heard for once. It was nice not to be alone. You could have easily called your best friend, but a handsome man was the next best thing.
*
It had been a week since Chris sat on your couch. You"d been growing closer to him since your job had given you time off.
It was Friday now. You'd been rotting in bed for six days, occasionally getting up to trudge across the hall and hang out with Chris while he ate dinner after work.
You hadn't been sleeping that well. The events from the night your ex had shown up had left you nervous and paranoid.
When your alarm went off, you huffed in annoyance and turned it off.
You began your typical morning routine, but you knew something was different.
You felt sadder than the past few days. You were exhausted, having been plagued by nightmares all night.
Your motivation to do anything was little to none.
You felt alone. The apartment was so quiet. So empty. You didn't know what to do with yourself.
Even Chris hadn't been able to keep the thoughts out of your head.
All you could think about was your stupid ex.
Why weren't you good enough for him? Would you ever be good enough for someone?
Would you live the rest of your life as a "pathetic loser" like he'd said before he stormed out?
Suddenly, you felt so overwhelmed by everything and couldn't stop the tears from flowing. Your back hit the kitchen counter and you slid down onto the floor, sobbing after six days of attempting to bottle your emotions.
The hole in your chest felt monumental. Like your ex had reached in and ripped your heart out, spat on it, and threw it away.
As stupid as that sounded, it was the only way you could explain the sudden emotions swirling in your being.
The rest of the day you slept on the couch. It was 9 PM when you actually woke up, and you sighed. You felt a little better, having finally slept, but the sadness persisted.
You were sick and tired of being alone.
That's how you ended up standing at Chris' door, timidly ringing the doorbell.
He opened it after a moment and froze, his eyebrows pulling together at your tear-stained, puffy face and general demeanor.
"Hey, everything okay?" He asked gently.
That was enough to open the flood gates again. Your face twisted and tears began to roll down your cheeks as you shook your head, covering your face with your hands. Why did you even bother him?
Chris looked a bit panicked, but he remained calm as he ushered you inside his apartment, one hand tentatively on your back as he led you to the couch. He disappeared then reappeared with a glass of water.
He sat next to you as you sipped, taking it from you when you were finished.
He didn't say anything. Just let you cry.
After a few minutes, you finally calmed down enough to stop crying.
It was so quiet you swore you could hear a pin drop.
"I'm sorry," You said after several moments.
"For what?" He asked.
"Bothering you. You're just... so nice to me." Your voice quivered.
Chris hummed gently. "Breakups are hard on everyone," He said.
You scoffed. "I guess. We're 'not right for each other', we should 'find other people,' But did he have to find her while I was still in the picture?" Your tone switched from sad to angry.
Chris stayed quiet.
"And the nerve to show up at my apartment and threaten me, after he's the one who fucked it up? What the fuck?" Your voice raised just a little. You huffed and dragged a hand down your face in frustration.
You wanted to scream.
You wanted to cry.
You wanted to punch your ex in the dick.
"This is all bullshit. I shouldn't be the one hurting." You sulked, letting your head rest against the back of the couch.
Chris nodded. You glanced over at him. He was staring at the floor, jaw clenched, looking very angry. You hoped it wasn't anger directed toward you. He felt your gaze and locked eyes with you.
"You're right. He should've appreciated you," He said. You blinked, blushing profusely.
"He should've cherished you, celebrated you, and made you feel adequate. Because you are, Y/N. Losing an imaginary card that society made up isn't gonna change that." He said.
You weren't really sure what to say to that.
Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Do you want to lose it?" He asked after a second. You were confused for a moment before you realized what he meant.
"Yeah. Just... didn't want it to be with him. I knew deep down we weren't right for each other." You said quietly.
Chris nodded understandingly, then paused, as if he were hesitant to say the next words.
"Let me help you."
You didn't think you'd heard him correctly, so you asked, "What?"
"Let me help you." He repeated.
"You want to help me lose my virginity?" You asked, incredulous. Chris nodded.
You were dumbfounded. Speechless. Your brain was malfunctioning.
"Um. Um. Uh. Okay. Yes," You said.
Chris smiled, then chuckled softly. "Doesn't have to be now. You can think about it-"
"No. I want it now," You said, then froze, since that came out much more forward than you’d meant.
Chris smiled again and you wanted to die.
You felt your cheeks heating up again, but you smiled too. A genuine smile. Chris brushed some hair out of your face, inching closer.
Chris' lips met yours and you swore sparks flew down your spine.
You'd been kissed before. Your ex had kissed you plenty of times, you had just never really enjoyed the way he kissed.
This was different. Chris was gentle, caring, even in the way he kissed you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer. Your arms wrapped around his neck.
He licked into your mouth, groaning softly. You couldn't believe this was happening. Your head was spinning so fast you were almost dizzy.
You whimpered at the feeling of him holding you close. That was a new experience. It was so unfamiliar that it felt more scandalous than it probably should have.
He pulled back an inch to catch his breath, but before you could say anything, he dove toward your neck. You moaned, half out of surprise and half out of pleasure.
It only took a matter of seconds for him to find the sensitive spot, making you squirm and whimper. You felt pathetic for moaning at every touch, but it just felt so good.
One of his hands moved to cradle your head. The other found your thigh, but just rested there for now. Your breath hitched, suddenly remembering where this was all leading.
You were clawing at his shirt desperately as he left marks along your jaw and under your ear. He was completely calm and you felt like you were losing your mind.
He'd clearly done this before. You tried not to think about it too much, though thinking was all you could do.
His lips found yours again and you pressed your face into his, your teeth clinking together.
He chuckled as you mumbled a breathless apology, kissing you a few more times before he pulled at your shirt, eyes meeting yours in a silent question.
You nodded frantically, and he unbuttoned your blouse, his large, warm hands coming up to feel your soft skin and breasts, squeezing them while simultaneously rolling your nipples between his fingers.
You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as that warm pleasure flooded your body again. You could feel slick on your upper thighs, bewildered that being this wet was even possible.
"You're doing so well, sweet girl," He whispered into your ear. You moaned again, louder this time.
A lazy smirk stretched across his face. "Oh, you like that?" He murmured. You blushed.
The hand that had rested on your thigh before returned, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your sweatpants.
"Take them off," You begged through a whimper. He nodded almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for you to say those words.
He helped you take them off, leaving you in your underwear. His fingers found your clit through the thin fabric and you flinched, then moaned again when he squeezed your breast.
He retracted his fingers to soak them in his mouth before pulling your underwear to the side and running them through your folds.
You hummed in satisfaction, clenching around nothing.
You watched as he sank onto his knees, his face level with your pussy, before he dove in. You yelped in surprise at the feeling of his tongue playing with your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.
Your back arched off the couch when he slid two fingers inside you, moving them in a motion so precise you wondered how he knew to hit all the right spots.
His free hand held your body down as he continued to eat you out like a man starved, whimpers and moans and borderline screams escaping your throat by the second.
His tongue laved across the sensitive bundle of nerves over and over, undeterred, maybe even encouraged, by how you were squirming in his grasp.
You could feel the coil in your tummy winding tighter and tighter.
Your moans rose in pitch each time his fingers rubbed against your G-spot until everything unraveled seemingly all at once and you fell over the edge, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami.
He helped you through it, only stopping his ministrations when you started to whimper out of overstimulation. He stood, licking your essence from his fingers. He kissed you sweetly, and you tasted yourself on his tongue.
"Are you ready, sweet girl?" He asked breathlessly. You were still a bit stunned, so you wondered what he meant, but then you heard the sound of him undoing his belt and your brain jumped into overdrive from the excitement of what came next.
You nodded eagerly at his question, grabbing at him to kiss him before he helped you reposition on the couch.
You were laying on your back, propped up by a mountain of pillows. He was pantsless now, and your eyes caught on the imprint of his hard-on through his boxers. Your mouth watered.
"You can return the favor next time," He promised, noticing the way you were looking at him. Your mind was thrown into more disarray at the promise of a next time.
He pulled his dick out of his boxers, then pulled them down too. He stuck his fingers in your mouth and used your spit to lubricate himself before positioning at your entrance.
He leaned over you, kissing your neck, lips, cheek and forehead to distract you from the pain as he pushed in.
You whimpered, first out of discomfort, but after a moment, they turned into moans of pleasure.
Chris buried himself to the hilt, then pulled out nearly all the way and slid back in. You bit your lip so hard you could taste metal.
His thrusts were painfully slow at first, but you knew it was for your own good.
You clawed at his back, then your fingers pulled at his hair, causing him to groan into your ear. It sent waves of excitement through you.
You wanted to hear more out of him. One hand buried itself in his hair and forced his face down toward yours, but instead of kissing him on the lips, you kissed his neck.
"Doing so good," He murmured breathlessly, causing you to clench around him. He moaned again, and it sent tingles down your spine.
Every thrust felt so good, sending waves of that warm, addictive feeling through you. A feeling you never knew existed before, but now you feared you’d be seeking it out for the rest of your life.
Soon, his thrusts began to speed up. You moaned each time his tip kissed your cervix, back arching again. He was holding your hands for leverage, hips snapping against yours at an incomprehensible speed.
You were content to just let him thrust into you for eternity. Your mind was a mess of pure, unadulterated bliss.
The coil was winding up once more. You started babbling and rambling like a maniac, not even fully realizing that you were speaking. You begged him not to stop, to go faster, deeper, harder, and all he could do was smile.
He could feel you squeezing him like a vice.
"That's it, cum for me, sweet girl," He encouraged breathlessly.
Instead of unravelling like before, the imaginary coil inside you snapped and you screamed as your orgasm crashed into you like a freight train, your pussy clenching and fluttering around his dick.
His own climax came directly after yours and he spilled inside you, waiting for a moment before pulling out. He collapsed onto the empty spot next to you on the couch, panting hard.
You ran your fingers over his skin comfortingly as you came down from your high, humming softly when he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around you.
*
A/N:
I hope you enjoyed!! This is my first fic so pls be sure to leave a comment/like and maybe suggest who you’d like me to write next? :3
[ ▸ ] — at marigold hills, summer mvp is supposed to reward professionalism, teamwork, and excellent guest service. unfortunately, your biggest competition is christopher bang, a cocky lifeguard with a lollipop habit, a shirtless ego, and half the country club wrapped around his whistle. you want the parking spot for next summer, the bragging rights, and the satisfaction of humbling him, but after one locker room argument, winning starts to look a lot less important.
[ ☰ ] — event masterlist
[ ✐ ] — 8k
[ ⌗ ] — lifeguard!chris x lifeguard!reader enemies to lovers kind of crack fic? cocky!chris graphic & detailed smut anal play oral ( m receiving )
[ ✉︎ ] — ayyyyy! and so it begins. welcome to a wet hot skz summer, babes! so excited to kick this off finally. like joy mentioned, this has been in the making for three months, so we were bursting at the seams to finally drop this for you guys! heavily inspired by billy in stranger things ( dacre you have my heart <3 ) but i also just wanted to picture chris shirtless more than he already is teehee. as always, hunnies, if you do enjoy please drop a like, comment, or reblog. always appreciate feedback and just genuinely love to see your guys' thoughts <3
By the end of June, the Marigold Hills Country Club Aquatics Center had stopped feeling like a summer job and started feeling like a sun-baked gladiator arena where the weapons were whistles, sunscreen bottles, customer-service smiles, and the rare but devastating guest compliment delivered directly in front of your manager’s clipboard.
The clipboard mattered.
You weren’t the kind of person who needed external validation from a man named Craig who wore khaki shorts with a braided belt and treated the aquatics staff like you were all one bad Yelp review away from public execution, but somewhere between Memorial Day weekend and the fourth consecutive shift of Christopher Bang smirking at you over the rim of his stupid mirrored sunglasses, Summer MVP had become less of a workplace incentive and more of a blood oath.
The prize wasn’t even that good.
A reserved parking spot near the front entrance for next summer, a fifty-dollar gift card to the club restaurant, and a laminated certificate Craig would probably hand over with a toothy grin.
It should not have mattered.
It absolutely mattered.
Because Chris had made it matter.
At the beginning of the summer, during the first staff meeting of the season, when Craig stood in front of the lifeguard office explaining “member experience standards” while everyone sweat through their uniforms, Chris had leaned against the lockers beside you with a blue raspberry lollipop tucked into one cheek, his sunglasses pushed up into his black hair, and the kind of easy, irritating smile that made you want to throw a rescue tube at his head.
You had not looked at him. “Congratulations. You discovered incentives.”
“I’m just saying,” he continued, voice low and amused, “don’t worry when I win. I’ll wave at you from the good spot.”
You had turned then, slowly, because some moments demanded eye contact before violence.
Chris looked back at you with his lashes lowered, his mouth glossy from the candy, his shoulders already broad and sun-warm under the red guard tank he had somehow made look indecent by existing inside it.
You smiled. It was not a nice smile.
“And here’s my wave,” you said, giving him the finger.
His grin spread.
And just like that, because men were a plague and pride was a disease you had apparently caught through chlorine exposure, your entire summer turned into a competition.
It was ridiculous and humiliating, but it was also the only thing keeping you from losing your mind while working eight-hour shifts among screaming children, over-served parents, and rich people who believed the phrase “country club standard” could summon fresh towels out of thin air.
Marigold Hills itself was beautiful in the overfunded, morally suspicious way country clubs tended to be beautiful—all white cabanas, blue umbrellas, polished stone, glassy pools, and flowers kept alive by people whose hourly wage could not afford the salad menu. The aquatics area sprawled across the back of the property like a luxury resort had gotten drunk and reproduced. It had a main pool, lap lanes, a lazy river, a splash pad, two hot tubs, a diving board, a shallow family area, and enough lounge chairs to support every affair, divorce, and passive-aggressive brunch conversation in the county.
Which meant there were a lot of lifeguards.
There had to be.
On busy weekends, your red-uniformed little army spread across the pool deck in rotations, scanning water, blowing whistles, bandaging scraped knees, dragging umbrellas across the concrete, fishing abandoned goggles from filters, and pretending not to hear club members say things that should have gotten them banned from polite society and possibly pepper-sprayed in the parking lot.
You had worked there with Chris since high school, back when both of you were sixteen and new enough to the job that a screaming toddler could send your adrenaline into orbit. Through senior year, through college summers, through certification renewals and first-aid refreshers, through the annual chaos of Memorial Day opening weekend, you and Chris had returned to Marigold Hills like cursed migratory birds in matching red.
Somewhere along the way, Chris had gone from cute in an annoying, dimply, boy-next-door kind of way to offensively hot.
He was cocky about it too, which made the whole thing worse.
He walked the pool deck shirtless whenever he could get away with it, sunscreen gleaming on his shoulders, rescue tube tucked under one arm, whistle resting against his chest, black hair damp and curling over his forehead in thick, messy pieces whenever he got out of the water. He wore his sunglasses like a man auditioning for a calendar called May Cause Divorces, and he always had a lollipop in his mouth, because apparently being broad, tan, Australian, and annoyingly good with children wasn’t already enough of a public nuisance.
The mothers loved him. That was not an exaggeration.
The mothers stared at him in a way that made their husbands stare angrily into their gin and tonics, because no amount of money, golf memberships, or boat shoes could compete with Christopher Bang crouching beside the kiddie pool to help a toddler fix her floaties while saying, “There you go, sweetheart, now you’re ready,” in a voice warm enough to fog sunglasses.
You watched it happen every shift.
You watched Mrs. Delaney touch his forearm while thanking him for finding her son’s goggles.
You watched Mrs. Cavanaugh ask whether he worked “every weekend” with faux casual interest. You watched a woman named Bianca, who wore a diamond ring large enough to count as a flotation device, drop her towel three separate times in front of him.
Chris picked it up every time.
He also winked every time.
And Craig wrote something down every fucking time.
“He’s such a whore,” muttered Alex from the adjacent lifeguard chair one afternoon, peering through his sunglasses as Chris handed a pool noodle to a little boy and somehow got thanked by the child’s mother with a smoothie.
“He’s not even subtle,” you said, watching Chris accept the smoothie with a smile so bright you hoped his teeth overheated.
Alex tilted his head. “Do you think Craig gives points for slut energy?”
“Craig gives points for whatever makes the members happy.”
“Then Chris is Summer MVP of the century. Half these women look like they’d renew their membership for another glimpse of his abs.”
“Don’t say abs.”
“Why?”
“Because then I think about them.”
Alex turned to look at you slowly.
You kept scanning the pool.
“Interesting,” he said.
“Shut the fuck up, Alex.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to say you’re handling this competition with a lot of maturity.”
“You were not.”
“No, I was about to call you a whore.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Unfortunately, your own tactics were not exactly noble.
Chris had mothers. You had men with wedding rings and the audacity of medieval kings.
It had started accidentally, sort of, when Mr. Ralston asked whether you could help him find the locker rooms despite the sign being directly above his head, and Craig, standing nearby with his clipboard, had written something down after you smiled, guided him politely, and did not tell him that literacy was free. The next day, Mr. Halverson asked for sunscreen recommendations and complimented your “attention to detail” when you explained SPF like he was not staring at your boobs through the entire conversation.
Craig had written that down too.
From there, the moral slope got slippery.
You carried lemonade pitchers for older men who called you “darling” in ways that made your spine try to leave your body. You helped Mr. Leighton find his missing sunglasses, which were on his own head, while his wife sat five feet away pretending not to hear him ask if you gave private swim lessons. You told a father of three that his butterfly stroke looked powerful even though it looked like he was having an actual stroke, because Craig was watching from the towel station and you were not above lying for the parking spot.
“Powerful?” Chris repeated later, appearing beside the first-aid cabinet while you restocked bandages. “That man swam like he was five seconds away from dying.”
You didn’t look up. “He appreciated the encouragement.”
“He appreciated your tits.”
You snapped your head toward him.
Chris’s jaw tightened like the words had come out sharper than he meant them to, but he did not take them back.
“Excuse me?”
“He’s a creep,” Chris said.
“He’s also a member.”
“He’s still a fucking creep.”
“And Mrs. Cavanaugh asking if you do personal swim coaching isn’t creepy?”
Chris opened his mouth.
You lifted a brow.
“That’s different,” he said finally.
“Oh, I cannot wait to hear this.”
“I didn’t flirt with her.”
“You winked.”
“She winked first.”
“You smiled like you were picturing her naked already.”
Chris laughed despite himself, and the sound annoyed you because it was too warm for the amount of irritation you were trying to preserve.
“You jealous?”
“Of middle-aged women who smell like Chanel and marital dissatisfaction? No.”
“Then why are you watching?”
“Because you’re loud.”
“I was standing completely still.”
“You’re loud standing completely still.”
His grin returned, slow and poisonous. “You spend a lot of time noticing me.”
You slammed the first-aid cabinet shut. Chris stepped back just enough to avoid losing a finger, still smirking.
“You spend a lot of time being noticeable,” you snapped.
“Good.”
“Bad.”
“Liar.”
You hated him. Or, more accurately, you hated the way he made hating him feel like a contact sport.
Because the worst part was not that Chris was hot, although that was irritating enough to require some sort of training. The worst part was that he was actually good at the job. When he was scanning the pool, nothing slipped past him. When a kid panicked in the deep end, Chris was in the water before anyone else had finished inhaling. When a toddler busted her chin on the splash pad, he had her laughing through tears within thirty seconds. When elderly members needed help adjusting umbrellas or carrying bags, he treated them with a patience that looked irritatingly real, not just performative for Craig.
It would have been easier if he sucked. Instead, he was competent. Competence, tragically, was hot.
By the third week of July, the other lifeguards had started treating your competition with Chris like a staff-wide entertainment program.
Mia kept score on a napkin taped inside the guard office.
Felix, who worked mostly swim lessons, had created categories with little hearts and skulls beside them.
“Guest compliments,” he said one morning, clicking a pen as you and Chris stood on opposite sides of the break table glaring at each other over a container of grapes. “You have twelve. Chris has thirteen.”
“Bullshit,” you said.
“Mrs. Redding complimented me twice yesterday,” Chris said.
“Mrs. Redding wants to climb you like pool furniture. That doesn’t count.”
“It does if she says I’m attentive.”
“She said your shorts looked snug.”
Alex, lounging on the bench, choked on his iced coffee.
Chris laughs annoyingly. “My shorts work hard keeping my huge—,”
“Stop right there, slut.”
Felix pointed his pen at you. “Sassy points for you.”
Mia leaned in from the doorway. “Does that count as harassment?”
“Only if a complaint is filed. But I kinda liked it,” Chris said, grinning around his lollipop. It was cherry that day, red and glossy and deeply obnoxious.
You wanted to snatch it out of his mouth and throw it into the pool filter. You also wanted, very briefly and very shamefully, to taste it. That thought was so unacceptable you threw a grape at him.
He caught it in his mouth and the room erupted.
“Fucking show-off,” you muttered, crossing your arms.
Chris chewed, swallowed, and winked.
Craig chose that moment to enter with his clipboard, which meant everyone immediately scattered into suspicious productivity.
“Good energy today,” Craig said, squinting at the room.
“Team morale,” Felix said brightly.
“More like ‘more hell’,” Mia muttered.
Craig ignored her. “Big Saturday crowd tomorrow. I expect focus, professionalism, and strong member engagement. Summer MVP is still anyone’s game.”
Chris looked at you. You looked at Chris.
Saturday arrived with the kind of brutal, glittering heat that turned the entire pool deck into a griddle and made every guest behave as though sunscreen, patience, and basic manners had evaporated by noon.
Children ran, screamed, cried, cannonballed, stole each other’s diving rings, and treated “walk, please” like a foreign concept. Parents drank frozen margaritas under umbrellas and pretended they did not see their offspring attempting minor crimes near the shallow end. The lazy river jammed twice because one child refused to exit his tube and another had somehow smuggled in a pool noodle suspiciously shaped like a dick. Someone dropped nachos near the splash pad. Someone else lost a retainer in the lap lanes.
It was chaos with cabana service.
You were stationed near the family pool, scanning through the glare, when you spotted Mr. Halverson near the bar with his phone in one hand and confusion wrinkling his sunburned face.
Perfect.
Mr. Halverson was gross, yes, in the damp, overly familiar way of men who treated wedding vows like background noise, but he was also influential, wealthy, and exactly the kind of member who would corner Craig near the office to compliment “excellent staff responsiveness” if you solved a minor inconvenience while smiling through your suffering.
You climbed down from the chair.
Across the pool, Chris noticed immediately.
He was crouched beside a little boy with a scraped knee, one hand pressing an ice pack gently to the child’s shin while the kid’s mother hovered nearby, gazing at Chris and his stupidly sculpted back. Chris’s eyes slid past her shoulder and locked onto you as you headed toward Halverson.
His jaw shifted.
You smiled—not at Halverson—at Chris. Then you turned all your polished, poisonous sweetness toward the man by the bar.
“Mr. Halverson,” you said, bright enough to make yourself nauseous. “Everything okay?”
He looked up, relief blooming across his face, eyes scanning your swimsuit-clad body from head to toe. “There you are,” he said, which immediately made you want to walk into the deep end with rocks in your pockets. “This damn app keeps asking for my cabana number.”
You glanced at the brass number mounted directly beside his head. “You’re in cabana twelve.”
He followed your gaze, laughed, and touched your side.
You didn’t flinch. You became marble.
“Guess I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached,” he said.
“Good thing we’re trained for emergencies,” you replied, smiling hard enough that you could hear your teeth grind in disgust.
Behind you, a whistle chirped.
You turned. Chris was already walking over, wet from some recent dip into the pool, black hair pushed back from his forehead before falling forward again in damp pieces, sunglasses hooked into the waistband of his trunks, lollipop tucked into one cheek, and expression pleasant in a way that made you instantly suspicious.
“Everything alright over here?” he asked.
His voice was polite, but his eyes were not.
Mr. Halverson’s hand dropped from your side.
“We’re fine,” you said.
Chris looked at you, then at Halverson, then at the phone. “App trouble?”
“I have it handled.”
“Of course you do,” Chris said, smiling. “You’re very helpful.”
You narrowed your eyes.
Halverson chuckled, delighted by tension he had no business enjoying. “You two always like this?”
“Unfortunately,” you said.
“Only when she misses me,” Chris said.
You snapped your head towards him. He smiled around the lollipop. Somewhere behind him, Craig materialized near the towel station, clipboard lifted like a weapon from hell.
Chris noticed. You knew he noticed because his posture changed by half an inch, straightening into that effortless lifeguard golden-boy stance he used when guests were watching, the one that made him look responsible and fuckable in the same breath, which was frankly very inconsiderate.
“Actually,” Chris said, reaching gently for Halverson’s phone, “I can take care of this. Y/N’s been running around all afternoon, and we don’t want her overheating.”
Oh, that smug, shirtless, candy-sucking bastard.
Your smile froze. “How thoughtful,” you said.
Chris leaned closer as he took the phone, enough that the scent of chlorine, sunscreen, and green apple sugar slipped under your skin with humiliating precision.
“You do look a little flushed,” he murmured.
You kept smiling because Craig was watching, but your voice dropped. “You do look a little killable.”
Chris’s mouth curved. “Cute.”
“I’m not being cute.”
“You are when you threaten me.”
“I hope a pool noodle lodges in your ass.”
Halverson made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh.
Craig’s pen moved.
Chris solved the app issue in less than ten seconds, handed the phone back, and earned a hearty clap on the shoulder from Halverson, who announced, “Thanks, Chris. You’re a lifesaver.”
Chris looked directly at you.
“That’s what the certification says.”
“You’re unbelievable,” you said.
“I’m efficient.”
“You’re a parasite.”
“With great member feedback.”
Your manager wrote something down again, and something inside you snapped cleanly in half.
The rest of the shift became war. Not metaphorical war. No, no, no, no. An actual war…if war involved customer service, fake smiles, and two college-age lifeguards competing to see who could be more publicly helpful without getting fired for making it erotic.
Chris helped a crying child locate a missing stuffed turtle named Gregory, then returned it with such gentle sincerity that even you, against your will, felt a tiny flicker of warmth before remembering you hated him.
You carried three lunch trays to a cabana full of women who called you “honey” and asked whether Chris was single.
You told them he had a personality disorder.
One of them laughed and said, “That’s okay. Sometimes you need a little crazy,” with a wink.
Chris heard about it within five minutes because Alex had the loyalty of a politician.
“You told Mrs. Bellamy I have a personality disorder?” Chris asked when your rotations crossed near the diving board.
“You told Mr. Halverson I was overheating.”
“You were.”
“I was plotting.”
“Sure you were.”
“Fuck you.”
“Ask nicer.”
You nearly swallowed your whistle. Chris smiled like he knew exactly what he had done and jogged backward toward the shallow end before you could commit a felony in front of children.
At four, you found Mrs. Redding struggling near the towel shelves, her cane balanced against her hip while she reached for a stack placed just slightly too high.
A gift from God.
You moved instantly. Chris also moved instantly. The two of you converged on the towel station from opposite directions like heat-seeking missiles with lifeguard certifications.
“I’ve got it,” you said, arriving first by half a second.
Chris’s hand reached over yours and grabbed the stack anyway.
“We’ve got it,” he said, handing Mrs. Redding two towels with a smile so bright it could blind.
Mrs. Redding looked between you, eyes bright behind her oversized sunglasses.
“Well,” she said, delighted, “aren’t you both attentive?”
“Yes,” you and Chris both said.
Mrs. Redding laughed, touched both your arms, and wandered away.
Craig watched from near the snack bar, pen not moving.
You and Chris stood in silence. Then Chris said, “Joint credit.”
You looked at him. “That’s worse than losing,” you said.
“I know.”
For one dangerous second, you both laughed.
It startled you more than it should have, the shared burst of it, easy and sharp and familiar in a way that reached backward through years of summers, years of chlorine-soaked shifts and closing duties and training drills. Years of Chris being the person who irritated you most consistently and somehow knew exactly when to hand you water without saying anything about it.
Then he ruined it by biting down on his lollipop and crunching it between his teeth.
You grimaced. “You’re disgusting.”
“You were smiling.”
“I had heatstroke.”
“You’ve been flushed all day.”
“You’ve been staring all day.”
His eyes dipped to your body, then lifted. “Yeah,” he said.
Then a child screamed near the lazy river, and the moment shattered back into chlorine, noise, and professional responsibility.
By closing, you were exhausted enough to feel personally victimized by Christopher Chan Bang.
The last members packed up, the cabanas emptied, the pool lights clicked on beneath the blue surface, and the aquatics center shifted into that strange post-chaos hush where everything smelled stronger: wet concrete, sunscreen, fried food from the snack bar, damp towels, and the faint metallic bite of pool water cooling under evening air.
Craig gathered the staff near the guard office for end-of-day notes.
Everyone looked like shit. Beautiful shit, maybe, because summer staff sometimes looked golden and half-feral after too much sun. But shit nonetheless.
Chris stood beside you, hair still damp, shoulders warm, lollipop gone but mouth no less irritating. Every time his arm brushed yours, your body reacted like he had done it on purpose. Which he probably had.
“Good work today,” Craig said, clipboard tucked against his chest. “Strong member engagement overall. A few preventable issues with towel inventory, but good responsiveness, especially during the lazy river backup.”
Mia muttered, “The dick noodle fucked us.”
Felix coughed.
Craig paused. “Please don’t refer to pool equipment that way.”
Mia shrugged. “It knew what it did.”
Craig wisely moved on. “I also want to recognize both of you,” he said, nodding toward you and Chris, which immediately made every other guard perk up like gossip-starved meerkats. “You’ve shown initiative throughout the month, and today especially, I noticed several examples of guest support, teamwork, and conflict management.”
You whispered, “Conflict management my ass.”
Chris whispered back, “You offering?”
You elbowed Chris hard.
He grunted, then laughed under his breath, and the sound grazed every nerve you had been trying to keep disciplined.
Craig’s eyes narrowed. “Something funny?”
“No,” Chris said.
“Yes,” Mia deadpanned.
Craig sighed. “Summer MVP will be announced next Friday. Until then, keep up the professionalism.”
“Absolutely,” you said.
“Always,” Chris added.
Felix, too softly for Craig but loudly enough for you, murmured, “Lying in the house of chlorine.”
The meeting ended. People scattered toward closing duties and locker rooms, laughing under their breath, dragging rescue tubes, stacking chairs, collecting lost toys. You headed toward the guard office for your bag, fully prepared to rinse off, go home, and spend the night not thinking about Chris’s blunt little “yeah” when you accused him of staring.
Naturally, Chris followed. Because he was a rash in human form. “You okay?” he asked behind you.
You grabbed your bag from the hook. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Do that.”
“Ask a normal question?”
“You don’t ask normal questions.”
“You look pissed.”
“I am pissed.”
“At me?”
You turned sharply. Chris stopped close enough that your bag bumped his thigh. “You cut me off with Halverson,” you said. “You stole towel credit with Mrs. Redding. You spent all day making Craig think you’re Summer MVP Jesus in tight swim trunks, and then you have the nerve to ask if I’m okay like you’re not the problem.”
Chris’s expression shifted, amusement dimming. “Halverson had his hand on you.”
You stared at him. “What?”
“He touched you.”
“So?”
“So he’s a creep.”
“You said that already.”
“Because it’s still true.”
“And that gives you the right to sabotage me?”
“No.” Chris dragged a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back before it fell forward again in those dark, messy pieces that made your irritation feel less structurally sound. “It gives me the right to be pissed.”
You laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “You were pissed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at you like the answer should have been obvious, which only made you angrier, because if the answer was obvious then your body had known it before you did, and you did not appreciate being betrayed by your own organs.
“Use your words, Christopher.”
His jaw flexed. Around you, the remaining staff noise faded down the hallway, leaving the two of you in the heavy quiet of the nearly empty guard office.
Chris took a step closer. “Because I don’t like watching him touch you.”
Your pulse jumped. “That’s not your business.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to act jealous.”
“I know.”
“You flirt with half the pool deck.”
“So do you.”
“For points.”
“Bullshit,” he said, and there it was, his own temper finally sparking through the charm. “You do it because you know I’m watching.”
You could have denied it. You should have denied it. Instead, you tilted your chin up and said, “Maybe you shouldn’t make it so easy.”
Chris’s laugh was low, humorless, and a little wrecked.
“Fuck,” he said, looking away for half a second. “You drive me insane.”
“Good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
He looked back at you. Something hot and stupid moved between you, dragging every unfinished argument, every ugly little spark, every glance across the pool deck into one narrow stretch of air.
“You’ve got a hell of a way of saying you like me,” he said.
“I don’t like you.”
“No?”
“No.”
Chris’s gaze dropped to your mouth. “Then tell me to fuck off.”
“Fuck off.”
“Mean it.”
You said nothing.
His smile returned, but it was different now, not bright or performative, not meant for mothers or managers or the cheering section of nosey lifeguards listening from around corners. This smile was smaller, slower, aimed directly at the space where your confidence had begun to smoke. “That’s what I thought,” he said.
You pushed past him before you could do something catastrophic in the guard office.
“Don’t walk away from me while I’m talking to you,” Chris called.
You threw him a look over your shoulder. “You do it all the time.”
“Yeah, and it pisses you off.”
“That’s because everything you do pisses me off.”
“Then don’t follow me.”
You stopped. He had turned toward the men’s locker room.
The bait hung there, obvious and glittering. You knew it was bait. Chris knew you knew it was bait.
Felix, from somewhere near the supply closet, whispered, “Don’t do it.”
You turned your head slowly toward the sound. A cabinet shut very quietly.
You stood in the hallway for two seconds, maybe three, which was enough time to consider your choices and reject wisdom as a concept. Then you followed him.
The men’s locker room was empty, humid, and coolly lit, smelling of cedar benches, chlorine, clean tile, aerosol deodorant, and the lingering chemical ghost of teenage boys who had once believed spraying themselves in a choking cloud of body spray counted as hygiene. Rows of gray lockers lined the walls. Water dripped somewhere in the shower area with a patient, echoing rhythm.
Chris stood at his locker, spinning the combination. He glanced back when the door swung shut behind you, eyebrows lifting. “Pretty sure this is the men’s locker room.”
“Pretty sure you invited me.”
“I said don’t follow me.”
“You said it like an asshole.”
“Because I knew you would.”
You crossed your arms. “You are so fucking smug.”
“And you’re in the men’s locker room giving me shit after hours, so maybe don’t climb too high up that moral ladder.”
“I came in here because you’ve been acting like a territorial dick all day.”
Chris opened his locker with a metallic clank. “I was acting like a dick before today too. Don’t erase my history.”
“You think this is funny?”
“I think if I don’t laugh, I’m going to do something very stupid.”
The honesty of that landed harder than the joke.
You watched him pull a towel from the locker shelf, watched the muscles in his shoulder shift with the movement, watched the damp ends of his hair cling to the back of his neck. He looked too casual for how charged the room had become, too comfortable in the tension, like he had been living inside it all summer and was only now letting you see it fully.
“What stupid thing?” you asked.
Chris turned. His eyes were darker in the locker room light.
“You know what stupid thing.”
Your mouth went dry. “You’re delusional.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re arrogant.”
“Definitely.”
“You’re still avoiding the point.”
“I’m trying not to make one.”
“You never try not to make points. You’re made of points. Horrible little ones.”
He laughed, real and warm, his head dipping for a second before he looked back at you with something dangerously fond in his expression. “God, you’re mean.”
“You deserve it.”
“Probably.”
“You absolutely do.”
“Then why are you still here?”
The question settled between you.
You could feel the answer in your body, which was unfortunate because your body had terrible politics and no respect for narrative pacing. It had been answering him all day, in every glance, every flare of irritation, every stupid rush of heat when he got too close and smelled like sugar and sun-warmed skin and man.
Chris watched you realize it. Then, with the kind of casual cruelty only a truly confident man could manage, he reached for the waistband of his red swim trunks.
Your eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Changing.”
“In front of me?”
“You’re in the men’s locker room.”
“That does not mean you get to just whip it out like a hostile work environment.”
Chris barked a laugh, bright and startled. “Whip it out?”
“Do not repeat my words when I’m angry.”
“You followed me into my locker room.”
“To yell at you.”
“Then keep yelling at me.”
“I am yelling.”
“You got quiet.”
“Because you’re undressing, you lunatic.”
He shrugged, thumbs still hooked in the waistband, mouth tilted like he was enjoying himself far too much. “You can leave.”
The challenge was obvious. Obscene, really.
You should have left. Instead, you turned your head toward a row of lockers with the stiff dignity of someone who had just lost a staring contest with the waistband of a man’s swim trunks.
Chris laughed under his breath. “Oh, now you’re shy?”
“I’m being respectful.”
“That’s new.”
“I hate you.”
“You keep saying.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
“Sure.”
Fabric shifted. Your soul briefly left your body, checked the hallway for witnesses, and returned with a clipboard full of complaints.
“Tell me when you’re decent,” you snapped.
“That depends on your definition.”
“Christopher.”
“I’ve got a towel on.”
You made the mistake of looking.
The towel was, technically, on.
It was just low enough on his hips to suggest it had signed a contract with Satan. His chest was still bare and his hair fell over his forehead in damp black pieces that made him look like he had stepped out of a swimwear ad designed specifically to ruin your ability to win arguments.
You forgot what you were saying.
Chris noticed. His grin went slow. “Careful,” he said. “Craig might give me points for member engagement.”
“You’re not engaging members.”
He looks down at himself, bulge pressing against the fabric.
“You’re disgusting.”
“You’re the one staring at me.”
“You dropped trou in front of me.”
“Then report me.”
“Gladly.”
“To Craig?”
“To God.”
Chris laughed again and turned toward the showers.
You watched him go, watched the towel sit low on his hips, watched his wet hair curl against the back of his neck, watched the muscles in his shoulders shift with every easy, arrogant step, and for one blistering second you hated him so much you could feel it in your teeth.
Then you realized it was not hatred. Or not only hatred. It was the same thing that had been burning beneath every argument all summer, every look across the pool deck, every stupid little competition, every insult that landed too close to flirting, every time his eyes dragged over you when he thought you were too busy pretending not to notice.
You were tired. Tired of smiling at disgusting married men for Craig’s clipboard. Tired of watching mothers touch Chris’s biceps like the country club had installed him for recreational use. Tired of pretending his lollipop, his hair, his body, his mouth, his entire cocky, chlorine-soaked existence did not make you want to spread your legs for him.
So when he reached the shower entrance, you said, “Fuck it.”
Chris paused and turned slowly, one hand braced against the tiled wall, and the amusement on his face shifted when he saw your hands go up.
“What?”
You reached for the straps of your swimsuit and pulled it down, peeling the damp fabric away from your skin with far less grace than you would have preferred, but apparently seduction looked different when you were half-feral from sun exposure and rage. The suit landed somewhere, your whistle followed, bouncing once against the bench before going still.
For once, Chris did not have a joke ready.
His gaze moved over your naked form, quick at first, almost instinctive, before he dragged it back to your face with visible effort—like a man forcing himself to remember that staring too long without an invitation would ruin the very good thing clearly unfolding in front of him.
His mouth curved slowly. “Goddamn, baby,” he said.
The words slid down your spine.
He took one step toward you, towel hanging low on his hips, erection straining against the front of it, damp hair falling over his forehead in messy black pieces, and the look on his face was pure trouble, all heat and arrogance and restraint held in place by the thinnest fucking leash.
He stopped close enough for you to feel the warmth of him, close enough that the air between your skin and his felt charged, but he still didn’t touch you. He stood there looking like sin in a staff locker room, smug as hell, and still left the last inch to you like he knew he didn’t need to chase.
His tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek, like he was trying not to grin too wide and lose the last scrap of composure he had.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re trying to get me fired.”
“You’ve been asking for it all summer.”
“I’ve been asking for a lot of things all summer.”
The way he said it made your pulse kick hard.
Chris’s gaze dropped again. This time, he let himself look. His dark eyes followed the curves of you, from your breasts to your legs, pausing at the junction of your thighs. Then his eyes came back to yours.
“You good?” he asked.
It was casual, almost lazy. But there was a line beneath it, clean and unmistakable, and you knew that if you gave him anything other than yes, if your expression shifted wrong, if your body backed up even half an inch, he would stop.
Cocky bastard. Respectful bastard. Fuck, you wanted him.
“Yes,” you said.
Chris’s smile returned, slower this time. “Yeah?”
“Don’t make me say it twice.”
He leaned in slightly, still not touching. “Say it twice.”
Your breath caught, and he noticed. Chris noticed everything when he wanted to, every swallow, every glance, every crack in your voice and tremor in your attitude.
You stepped closer. “I’m good,” you said, quieter, meaner, because if he wanted the words then he could choke on them. “I want this. I want you. Happy?”
For a second, the smugness slipped. Just a second. Then he exhaled a low, pleased curse and reached for you. “Fucking thrilled.”
His hand caught your waist, hot and firm, dragging you against him with the kind of confidence that made it very clear he had been waiting for permission and now considered permission a loaded weapon. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, not gentle exactly, but controlled, his fingers curling there as he brought his mouth down to yours.
The kiss was filthy immediately. Chris kissed you like he had been imagining your mouth for weeks and was pissed he’d had to wait this long, all heat and pressure and slick, cherry-sugar memory, his teeth catching your lower lip just enough to make your hand fly to his shoulder.
You dug your nails in, making him groan against your mouth.
“Shit,” he breathed, smiling into the kiss. “You like that shit, baby?” Chris smirked, dark and delighted, and backed you toward the lockers.
Your back met metal with a dull thud, and before you could snap at him about bruising, his hand was already there behind your head, cushioning the impact like it was muscle memory, mouth still on yours, body still pressing close, arrogance still humming through every inch of him.
“You’re still annoying,” you said, breathless, when he dragged his mouth down your jaw.
“You’re still naked letting me kiss you,” he said, voice rough against your throat.
His hand slid lower, fingers pressing into your hip with enough grip to make your thoughts scatter. He tilted his head, caught your gaze, and gave you one last out with nothing but his eyes and a low, wicked murmur. “Tell me no and I stop.”
You stared at him. He stared back, water-dark hair falling into his eyes, mouth swollen from yours, towel barely hanging on, every inch of him looking like a bad decision that knew exactly how bad it was.
You reached for the edge of his towel.
Chris’s grin went sharp. “That’s not no.”
“No shit.”
The towel dropped, his control with it.
He kissed you again, harder this time, and whatever had been left of the argument collapsed under the heat of his hands, the slick press of damp skin, the obscene satisfaction of finally letting the whole stupid summer sharpen into one impossible point.
“You have no idea,” he said, breath hot against your mouth, “how many times I’ve thought about this.”
You laughed, but it came out shaky.
“In the employee locker room? That’s disturbing.”
“On the pool deck,” he said, kissing down your throat. “In the office. Behind the towel station. Every time you bend over to pick up some rich asshole’s sunglasses and then look at me like you know I’m watching.”
“You are so gross.”
“You love it.”
“I hate you.”
“No,” he said, lifting his head, eyes dark and certain. “You don’t.”
You growled, pulling him closer by the back of his neck. “No,” you said, mouth brushing his. “I don’t.”
Chris’s smile flickered, less smug for half a second and more real, which you absolutely could not tolerate under current conditions. So you kissed him before he could do anything stupid with it.
He made a rough sound into your mouth, gripped your waist, and dragged you tighter against him, all cocky hunger and barely leashed restraint, the kind of man who knew how badly he was wanted and still waited for you to choose it anyway.
Chris hauls you into the shower stall, his grip iron-tight on your wrist, and the fluorescent lights catch the hard lines of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, the way his cock juts out from his hips, thick and angry and already leaking at the tip.
"You're insane," he hisses, shoving you under the spray before the water's even warm.
The initial blast is ice-cold and you gasp, back arching away from the wall, your nipples pebbling instantly, your skin erupting in goosebumps. Chris steps in after you, his body crowding yours, his hands planting on either side of your head against the tile.
"Insane," he repeats, "following me in here like that. Getting me fucking hard."
The water warms and steam billows around you both. You're drenched now, your hair plastering to your shoulders, water streaming down the valley of your breasts, rushing over the curve of your hips. Chris is just as wet, his dark hair slicked back from his forehead, his dark eyes sharp and hungry as they roam over your body.
Then his lips are on yours, his tongue pushing past your lips, his hand fisting in your wet hair, his hard cock pressing against your belly and smearing precum across your stomach. You kiss him back like you're trying to consume him, your hands sliding over his slick shoulders, digging into the muscles of his back.
He leans back, biting your lower lip, tugging it, and letting it snap back. "On your knees, beautiful."
The tile is hard and cold under your knees but you don't care, don't hesitate, don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you waver. You're eye-level with his cock now, watching it bob with his pulse, thick and flushed, a vein running along the underside that you trace with your fingertip just to watch him twitch.
"Stop teasing."
"Stop being desperate." You look up at him through your lashes, water streaming down your face, and you see the exact moment his patience snaps.
His hand is in your hair again, guiding you forward, and you open your mouth without resistance because you want this just as badly as he does. Maybe more. Maybe you've wanted this all summer, every argument just foreplay, every insult a way to get his attention without having to admit you craved it.
The head of his cock passes your lips and you seal them around his shaft, tongue pressing flat against the underside, tasting salt and skin and something uniquely Chris. He groans above you, his hips jerking forward, pushing deeper into your mouth.
"Fuck," he hisses, his head falling back. "Fuck, that's—your mouth is—"
You take him deeper, relaxing your throat, breathing through your nose as you swallow around him. Your hand wraps around what you can't fit, stroking in time with your mouth, twisting on the upstroke, your other hand cupping his balls and rolling them gently in your palm.
"God, you're fucking good at this." His voice is strained, wrecked.
You hum around him and his whole body shudders. Your eyes water but you don't pull back, don't stop, setting a rhythm that has him cursing under his breath, his thighs tensing under your free hand. You can feel him getting close—the way his balls draw up tight, the way his cock swells on your tongue, the way his grip in your hair tightens to the point of pain.
"I'm gonna—" He yanks you off suddenly, and you gasp, drool and precum stringing from your lips to his cock. "Not like that. Not yet."
He pulls you to your feet and spins you around, pressing your front against the wet tile wall. The water beats down on both of you, running in rivulets down your spine, pooling in the hollow of your lower back. His body cages yours, his chest against your back, his cock sliding between your thighs, notching against your entrance but not pushing in.
"Tell me you want it."
"I want it."
"Tell me you need it."
"I need it, Chris. I need your cock inside me. Please."
"Please?" He laughs, dark and low. "Where's all that fight now? Where's the girl who was going to steal my MVP title?"
"Inside me. Where your cock should be."
"Filthy." He notches himself at your entrance and pushes in, one long, relentless thrust that has you crying out, your palms slapping against the wet tile. He fills you completely, stretching you, the slight burn mixing with the pleasure until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
He doesn't give you time to adjust. He fucks you hard, his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the tile, mixing with the spray of the water and both of your moans. His hand finds your throat, tilting your head back, and he bites along the column of your neck, sucks a bruise into the junction of your shoulder.
"This pussy is mine," he growls against your skin. "Say it."
"Yours. This pussy is yours."
"Every fucking inch of you." His free hand slides down your stomach, over your hip, dipping between your thighs to find your clit. He circles it with rough, relentless pressure, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. Going to make sure you never think about another cock without remembering how I feel inside you."
"Yes, god, yes—"
"Going to fill you up." His voice drops lower, rougher, and you feel his cock twitch inside you. "Going to pump you full of my cum, watch it drip down your thighs when I'm done with you."
The words hit something deep in your core, something primal and desperate. You push back against him, meeting each thrust, your nails scraping uselessly against the tile. The pressure is building, coiling tight in your belly, your orgasm creeping closer with every stroke of his fingers, every snap of his hips.
"Chris, I'm going to—"
"Not yet." He slows his pace, torturously slow, and you whimper. "Not until I say."
"Please, please, I need—"
His thumb shifts, sliding back, pressing against your asshole. You tense for a moment, then force yourself to relax, and he groans at the way your body yields to him.
"Look at you," he breathes, jaw dropping at the visual of his thumb rubbing your tight hole. "So fucking desperate for it. Huh, baby? You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you?"
"Anything. Anything you want."
He pushes just the tip of his thumb past the ring of muscle, and the fullness has you seeing stars. He resumes his pace, fucking you hard again, his thumb working in and out in counterpoint to his cock. The dual sensation is overwhelming, pushing you higher and higher, and you're sobbing with it, begging with sounds that barely qualify as words.
"Come for me," he says in your ear. "Come on my cock and make me come inside you."
You shatter. Your orgasm crashes through you, every muscle clenching and releasing at once, your cunt gripping him so tight he groans loud enough to echo. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, just fucks you through it, drawing out every last wave until you're shaking, until your legs barely hold you.
"Good girl." His rhythm stutters, becoming erratic. "Good fucking girl. I'm gonna fill you up now, baby. Gonna breed this pretty pussy."
"Yes, god, yes, give me everything—"
He slams home one final time and holds, his cock pulsing inside you, rope after rope of hot cum flooding your core. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh fuuuuuck,” he groans loudly. You can feel it, feel him marking you from the inside, and the sensation triggers another smaller orgasm that has you writhing against the wall.
For a moment, neither of you moves. Just the sound of water and breathing. Then he pulls out, and you feel his cum immediately start to slip down your thighs, mingling with the water, washing away the evidence of what you've done. His hands are gentle now, turning you around, brushing wet hair from your face.
"You're still not winning MVP," he says, but his voice is soft.
"We'll see about that." You're breathless, wrecked, but you manage a smile. "I think I just proved I can make you lose your mind. That's got to count for something."
He laughs, this real sound, and kisses you again—slower this time, less frantic.
"We're not done," he murmurs against your lips. "Not even close. You started a war when you followed me in here, and I intend to win it."
"Bring it on, Chris."
He grins, and there's something wicked in it, something that makes your spent cunt clench in anticipation.
"Round two in the locker room," he says, already reaching for you again. "I want to bend you over one of those benches and hear you scream."
The water runs cold around you both, but neither of you cares. And something tells you that by the end of it, neither of you will remember why you were fighting in the first place.
