𝜗ৎ love spending my free time reading, yapping ofc, listening to music, and obviously writing!
𝜗ৎ my requests are open!
𝜗ৎ all my works are considered 18+, so please read at your own risk and be mindful of the media you consume online. every fic has warnings listed so you know what you're getting into-make sure to check them out! :)
pairing: chan x f reader
warnings: profanities, fwb, bad at feelings, unprotected intercourse (wrap before you tap!), idol au, idol chan x makeup artist reader
genre: explicit smut
word count: 3.9k
a/n: i didn't usually write idol au so writing this turned out to be a challenging experience for me (mainly bc i was kinda scared they're not giving idols vibes lmao) but it was fun nonetheless!! this was based off of a request i got on my insta but aside from that, i was also heavily inspired by skz's I Like It and that one vid of chan lifting 160 kg bar.... heheheh....
(this fic was originally posted on my insta @cattoleeno)
“He’s been talking about you.”
Felix’s eventual grin was a triumph of his prowess on seeing past your silence that you thought was a sufficient attempt at keeping your emotions from surfacing beyond your pounding heart. But in his defense, he had not referred to anyone in particular and yet you didn’t bother to ask who he was talking about, as if there wasn’t anyone else who would be talking about you.
Sometimes silence tells more than words ever will, Felix thought. That, or he could easily hear your heart thumping uncharacteristically fast within your ribcage in the quiet of the dressing room.
“He’s bulking and been trying lifting weights these days,” he added, eyes slid close as you brushed the last layer of a dark eyeshadow on his lids. “I wonder where the drive comes from, even he got Changbin a little intimidated but, phew, you gotta see his arms.”
You knew what he was doing. The boy always makes a big fuss of the simplest occurrences he stumbles upon while you’re doing his makeup. Oftentimes it would lead you to share your own predicaments you haven’t even told your closest ones yet, and he was always so giddy to be the first one to know. One time he tagged you on a post of himself and you posing weirdly in the mirror with a caption, yapping buddy.
But unlike the usual where you would actively comment on his chitchat show, you were not speaking this time apart from occasional hums and nods. Your lips were sealed shut. Your hands kept working.
Upon realising he wouldn’t acquire the information through a slip of tongue, his frustration then revealed itself in the form of a long sigh in surrender. “Chan missed you.”
You almost snorted, and for the first time since Felix had arrived to get his makeup done, you decided to entertain him. You bent down and stroked the brush where his lids needed the last touch of glitters. “You’re his owl now?”
“No,” he admitted, “he didn’t ask me to tell you anything but he wouldn’t stop talking about you my ears would actually be bleeding in the long run,” he glanced at the door through the the mirror where a staff had trotted in with a heap of navy robes in arms, so think that only half her face was visible. His tone went lower at the additional presence in the room, barely a whisper, “you’ve yet to write nor call him back. What’s up?”
The staff put down the robes on the couch in the corner alongside a neat pile of blankets prepared for when the members needed a nap. She flashed you a smile before pressing her phone against her ear and speaking to someone on the other end of the line.
You leaned back to inspect Felix’s face, making sure the eye makeup was symmetrical. “We are not a couple and I’m not obliged to contact him back, that’s what’s up.”
Felix frowned, “yet.”
Maybe you had to be a little daring with the label; fuck buddies, friends with benefits, stress relievers, all that but a mere ‘not a couple’ because Felix always seemed to think that whatever you had with Chan now was solely a phase before an actual relationship. But shit, fuck buddies sounded bitter in your head, and it wouldn’t taste any sweeter on your tongue.
Your laugh was sour, “I’m not crossing the line.”
Felix’s lips twitched, ready for a confrontation but… speak of the devil.
The dressing room was suddenly boisterous with more staff and the other members swarming in. Sparkly, monochromatic garments that were priorly organised on the rolling racks were taken away into a bigger dressing room next door by the stylists, your makeup assistant sat some of the members down at the vanity and started working on them, while some other staff were busy moving things here and there to make room for a makeshift, temporary snack table.
Seungmin said something to Changbin that made the older put him in a headlock before they both were dragged away from makeup. Jisung was showing Minho a newly released anime. Hyunjin was playing with Jeongin’s hair while a stylist was trying to adjust a silver necklace around the taller’s neck.
And the last one to step inside as usual, was Chan.
The last member to be dolled up would usually make the most of the extra time to nap but Chan, ever so sleep deprived, was already slipped into his stage outfit.
GIvenchy had sent their latest fall-winter collection exclusively for him. The stylist had picked out a dark, puffy top for the first performance which they forthwith altered, cutting the sleeves off to conveniently emphasise his well-built upper half particularly his arms that seemed to to have gotten a lot more muscular than you’d remembered. Paired with his newly dyed jet black hair, it was hard not to look.
A stylist assigned to the leader was on her knees when you sneaked a glance through the mirror. She was tucking the hem of his black cargo pants into the ankle of his Rombaut high boot, a black leather band dangling around one of her wrists.
Felix furtively nudged your hip with an elbow to swerve your attention back to him, face contorted into a restrained sneer at your umpteenth attempt at having a glimpse of his leader’s figure through the mirror. He mouthed, “told you.”
He was talking specifically about the arms. It was embarrassing that you so quickly caught up on that.
Against your better judgement, you took another glance in the mirror and were met with a curious gaze and a dimpled smile. Your walls wobbled for a moment just like they always would at the sight of that smile. But you nailed your feet into the ground and held your walls steady until it was silent and they stood solid again.
You looked away and bent down to embellish Felix’s freckles with strews of sparkles.
If you listened closely maybe you’d hear a long, disappointed sigh in the air.
After fixing the final sweeps of a nude gloss on Felix’s cupid bow, there came Seungmin and Jeongin who filled you in with all the horror stories from the old dance practice room. Most of which you had already heard from Felix who was an absolute coward when it comes to ghosts. You listened intently and laughed with them regardless, ignoring the way a particular pair of dark brown eyes steadily observing nearby.
But after all the youngers tailed behind their manager to a dressing room next door where everyone else had gathered to put their outfits on, it was suddenly so quiet. You didn’t realise almost all of the staff except one had left to make ready for the show one last time before the arena’s doors were finally allowed to open.
Too quiet. Except for a muffled commotion coming from the adjacent room, mostly Jisung who was arguing with someone again, Minho’s siren warm up ritual, and Hyunjin’s head-splitting giggles at something Changbin might be doing to him.
You pivoted around the vanity to arrange the palette for the last person on your list, and you could feel his gaze secured on you.
“Here, let me,” Chan politely offered a hand to take the arm band from the stylist when she was adjusting its length, “I think the others will appreciate an extra hand next door.”
Glancing at her watch, she easily agreed and scuttled away.
Chan scanned out the corridor, greeting a staff member on her way to the room at the end of the hallway, before gently closing the door when there was no longer anyone around.
You didn’t miss the sound of the door locking.
There were barely any exchanges the entire time he was sitting at the vanity while you were working on his makeup. His hands, however, had a hard time keeping still as they were roaming around, stroking playful caresses across your thighs and skimming further up beneath your skirt where they kneaded the soft globes of your ass.
“You were staring.”
“Hm?”
Chan repeated, “you were staring when I came in.”
“I was,” you admitted, “like I was looking at everyone else when they came in.”
“Mm, yeah?” He severed his back from the seat, lips barely brushing against your earlobe. You had just swept a pop of colour on his cheeks but you were the one who got red on the face. Unfair. He nipped at your earlobe, “did you look away when they stared back?”
A couple more brushes on his cheeks outwards to blend the blush. You tried to ignore the way his plump lips persistently kissed the side of your neck with a dry chuckle, “would’ve looked like a creep if I didn’t.”
“I missed you,” Chan leaned back in his chair again, the smile never left his face. “You were awfully quiet.” The lack of mere hello’s when you had seemed to be pretty comfortable talking to the rest of the members but him, he meant.
Your palm was on his shoulder as a small brush swept its way across his eyebrow, trying your best to keep it gentle despite the abrupt snap somewhere in your chest. The first remark felt way different on his tongue than them on Felix’s.
You snorted playfully, “well it’s not appropriate to scream, is it?”
A pair of crooked dents on his cheeks came into view as he grinned cunningly at a memory flashing in his head, “you did when we messed around the last time at—”
A slap on his chest. Hard. But he giggled at the embarrassment dispersing across your cheeks in red. Your eyes widened at him and lips jutted out in a disapproved look, momentarily gazing up at the closed door. A group of people had just walked by by the sounds of their hasty treads outside.
Chan peered up at you, hands kneading your ass again, “we almost got caught the last time ‘cause you didn’t have my fingers in your mouth to tone down your beautiful moans. I made you feel so good you couldn’t—”
A stinging slap on his shoulder. He winced in pain this time, although the stupidly sweet grin was unwaveringly plastered on his face. You couldn’t be more annoyed.
“Might consider moaning your full name for everyone to hear next time.”
It was an empty threat and you both knew that. You wouldn’t possibly be so stupid to risk your job only to wipe that wicked smile off of his face, no.
His hand slipped further south, pulling you by the thigh to stand closer between his legs. “So you do want a next time.”
You rolled your eyes with a scoff but he stroked the back of your thigh almost too fondly you could’ve melted if you hadn’t been there for work. He grinned, “I’ll be all ears though.”
You carried on with your work, ignoring the heightening heat in your abdomen that came with his playful teasing and touchy hands. But it didn’t help that he also looked insanely attractive in the fit.
You definitely had issues. Because it was probably the hundredth time the stylists had picked out sleeveless top for his stage outfit, and you had certainly seen so much more than his bare arms, yet it still affected you like it was the first time.
As if sensing that you were almost done once you placed the eyeshadow palette back onto the dresser, he pulled you back to sit on his lap, burying his face on your chest. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed you.”
Your hands found their place on his head to play with his hair. Sometimes you wanted to ask why he almost never wore his natural curls on the stage. You liked his curls. A little too much, even. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”
His words were a little muffled against your shirt, maybe his makeup would stain, “I locked the door.”
“I noticed,” you cackled, tearing yourself away from him and beginning to organise your stuff back into their respective cases. “But if you missed my ass and cunt you’ll need to wait ‘till we get back to your dorm. We’re not gonna ruin your makeup.”
Chan winced at your words. At the first few words, specifically.
He didn’t say anything but his hands once again found you.
Apparently Felix hadn’t been joking when he said Chan was into lifting weights as of lately, but the effortless cradle of his arms beneath your ass as he hauled you up onto the dresser still had you gasp in surprise. You almost forgot about the leather arm band he had taken from his stylist earlier, until it was dangling precariously in between his thumb and forefinger right before your face.
“Will you do the honours?”
With a raised brow you took the accessory and pulled his left arm closer, “you just need an excuse for me to touch you.”
He grinned, “mm, you caught me.”
The whole time you were adjusting the arm band around his bicep in silence, the whole time he was studying your face in silence. Without looking up, you scoffed, “now you’re the one staring.”
He hummed, “it’s hard not to when you’re so pretty.”
Your nose scrunched, unimpressed. You made the grip of the arm band slightly tighter than it should be but if Chan felt pain, it was only a miniscule compared to an abrupt nudge of your palm against the bulge in his pants he wasn’t even aware of. “I’m only pretty when you need a stress reliever,” you chuckled, back flush against the mirror and eyes affixed to his own, “so tell me what I can do to make you feel better without ruining your makeup. I’m not redoing that.”
Chan sighed. Every ounce of mischief that had gleamed in his face melted away along with his playful grin. Words at the tip of his tongue, but all that was let out was another sigh.
You weren’t left waiting for too long. His lips found their place on your neck as he ground his crotch against your clothed cunt. His growing bulge fondled where you felt most sensitive, and from how wet your panties already were, he knew he wasn’t the only one getting aroused in the room.
“You can make me feel good, yeah,” he sighed, detaching his face from your neck and rolling your skirt further up, “just stay still and look pretty, I’ll do the work.”
It sent the butterflies in your stomach going haywire more than you would ever want to admit, so you kept a straight face and pulled him close as he unbuckled his belt. You hoped the dresser was sturdy enough to provide not only your weight but a bit of extra pressure in the near future.
“Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”
The desperation that reflected through the immediate nodding even before he finished his sentence would have definitely gotten you in an endless circle of teasing if he weren’t just as desperate. Instead, “fuck,” he grunted, lips seeking for a certain spot below your ear he knew so much would send you otherworldly bliss. All while his fingers tugged at your wet panties to the side as he blindly guided his length to align with your awaiting entrance.
He wanted to keep sucking at your weak spot to distract you from the imminent pain that came with penetration, but it felt too good for him too that he eventually peeled his mouth away from your neck and rested his forehead on your shoulder with ragged breaths. “You feel so fucking perfect. So pretty and perfect.”
It was slow for the first few thrusts, hands roaming around to feel the other’s body, occasional kisses along the skin of the other’s neck, but never close enough to where your lips were. I missed you too, you wanted to tell him, but words of affirmation and feelings and emotions were only reserved for a committed relationship. Which you both lacked.
“Haven’t worked out in two days.” Chan grunted in between thrusts that gradually increased in pace.
What you didn’t expect was being lifted up off of the dresser, forcing your arms to involuntarily wrap around his neck and hold on.
The next thing you knew, a cold wall was pressed against your back and how deep his length was buried inside you in that position. You mewled when he started to pound into you again, face buried in your neck, planting marks all over the skin down your collarbone.
He spread your thighs further apart, nailing you onto the wall. The hands on your thighs smothered down to your ass again, gripping the plump flesh so hard you were sure there would be bruises the next morning.
He pulled away, lustful eyes burrowing into yours.
Your hooded eyes struggled to keep open, devouring the hypnotising sight of Chan fervid on relieving his needs. The sleeveless vest earned you a sinful view of the muscles and veins bulging along the surface of his biceps as his arms held you up. The leather band around one of his upper arms taunted you with its tight grip that made the bulges of his muscles all the more prominent. Beads of sweat ran down the side of his face before they dripped onto your thighs. He was godly.
How could you trade your feelings for such a beautiful, unholy sight…
“Keep looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
He thrusted particularly hard that knocked a whimper out of your throat, grinning, “like you’d devour me clean.”
Your chuckles came out breathlessly, “but I am devouring you.”
Another hard thrust drew a louder whimper out of you, and your nails dug into his shoulders. The sound of people walking back and forth outside the room was cue enough to bite back your moans, and when he found a spot that made you see stars and unintendedly moan, your palm slapped against your mouth for assistance.
Chan wasn’t too happy with your muffled whines. With only one hand and his hips pinning you up against the wall, his other hand pulled your hand off of your mouth, replacing it with his lips instead in a fervent kiss.
“Thought you said you wanna moan my full name for everyone to hear? Didn’t I say I’ll be all ears?”
“Fuck you.” But it sounded much gentler than you had intended to. “I’m not losing my job.”
You gasped at a particular sharp thrust, glaring at his triumphant grin. But then cold sweat ran down the back of your neck when you heard footsteps just at the other side of the door. The room wasn’t soundproof in the first place, but the way you could hear the footsteps so clearly made you all the more alarmed.
Chan on the other hand didn’t seem bothered and kept going.
“Chan… slow down…” you whined, chest painful from having to hold back the screams at the blazing strokes of his cock against your walls.
He slowed the pace, nose brushing against yours, “did I hurt you?”
You shook your head, panting, then settled your forehead down onto his shoulder.
Chan didn’t waste any more time and sped up again, catching you off guard. You let out an obscene cry in surprise, followed by a chain of moans at the pleasure as he was rolling his hips to get his cock hit every spot.
You were too lost, teeth dug into his shoulder, body limp and pliant, cheeks burning, ass stinging. You let him give you everything there was to offer to get you to your high.
Your legs trembled intensely when it happened, chest heaved and teeth left marks all over his shoulder that led to his own peak as well. He moaned in your ear when he finally released.
If Chan had been patient enough to wait until the event was over and he could sneak you into his dorm, you would’ve loved to stay in his arms a little longer after such an intense session. Unfortunately he loved risks.
“Get me down.” You demanded.
And he did as asked, although his protective hands still lingered around your waist knowing that your legs would most likely give out the moment your feet touched the ground. He wasn’t wrong, but you didn’t refuse either. You clung onto him as he sat you down on the sofa and began to clean you up.
When he looked up, you instantly frowned. His face twisted in concern, “what’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?”
You huffed, “you ruined your makeup.”
There wasn’t much to fix but a stain of lipstick whose shade didn’t match the one on his lips smudged messily around his mouth. Red and swollen, it almost looked like his lips were stung.
He was visibly relieved at your comment, however. “We still have time.”
Then, as he looked down at where his hand was mindlessly rubbing circles on your thigh, he mumbled, “you’re always pretty.”
“Hm?”
“You’re always pretty,” he repeated, looking up at you, “you’re not just a stress reliever if that was what you thought you were to me. You’re not only pretty when I need you like that, no.”
“No,” you hummed in agreement, “I’m a friend, too, and definitely your makeup artist.”
Chan wasn’t amused. “You know what I mean.”
You snickered, “you were the one suggesting to keep it casual, Chan.” The words hung in the air for a while before you added, “and I don’t mind. I like it this way.”
Maybe there was so little truth in what you had admitted but eventually you realised there was no harm in not putting any romantic labels to your relationship as he had suggested beforehand. It wasn’t like he would be able to reserve his attention on you if you were to end up romantically given his line of work that compelled him to allocate his focus on so many things at once. You weren’t sure if you could get used to being pushed back into the last on his list all the time so you thought, being romantically involved with him would have just wounded you and him more than if you pushed your feelings down.
The less your feelings get involved, the less you’d get your heart broken.
Chan stayed silent for a moment. Thoughts swam in the depth of his irises as they bored into yours. Then, “alright. We’ll keep it this way.”
He flinched at the gentle knocks on the door. How ironic that he was more affected at being caught when there was nothing to see in the room, but had been awfully confident when your moans were straight immoral. You giggled.
A familiar deep voice made through the thin board of the door. It was so clear that you could imagine Felix pressing his lips against the door to speak. “If you horny imbeciles are done, better get out now before the others realise you’ve been gone too long. And you’re expected for technical equipment check in like five minutes, Bang Chan, chop chop.”
Chan rose to his feet and offered you a hand. A smile slowly tugged at his lips, crooked and hesitant, “come, love, you kinda have to patch up my makeup.”
hi everyone. i want to take accountability for something. the “bang chan roommate” series i posted wasn’t fully my original work. i took heavy inspiration (and in some parts, exact pieces) from another creator’s work without proper credit. that was wrong of me.
i understand how much time and effort goes into creating stories, and i truly regret crossing that line. i’ve taken the posts down and won’t be reposting them. i’m really sorry to the original creator and to everyone who supported my version thinking it was mine.
this won’t happen again — i’ll do better and make sure my future work is completely my own or properly credited.
warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, name calling, figering, fluff, risk of being caught, teasing, edging, praise, secret relationship, best friend’s sister trope, begging, swearing, degradation
summary: College nights were supposed to be quiet—just rain, notes, and the low hum of your fall playlist. But when Chan climbs through your window after midnight, quiet isn’t an option anymore. Hyunjin’s rule has always been simple: his sister is off limits. One drunken mistake should have been the end of it, but instead it became the beginning of something you can’t stop. Tonight, between the walls that separate his room from yours, Chan shows you exactly what it means to be his—if only in whispers.
College wasn’t fun. Definitely.
The clock hit 23:17 when you were sitting at the desk for what felt like hours. That stupid anatomy. Trying to squeeze words that looked like they were written in gibberish into your brain at this ungodly hour wasn’t really healthy.
Turning pages and pages all over, just so you could memorise names like Fibroblasts, Osteocytes and hundreds of others. You were trying, you really were, but knowing that your friends were out partying instead of studying just like, you made it worse.
Sighing for the hundredth time tonight, a sound of something hitting your window interrupted you. „What the hell?“ You mumbled. Slowly getting up from the chair, you made your way to the window, only to see chan climbing to your window like nothing.
Your eyes widening as you open it. „What are you doing here!? Hyunjin is right next-door!“ You whisper yelled at chan, only to get cut off by his lips on your.
„Hello to you too, princess“ he mumbled into the kiss. After pulling away, you could finally see his face-cheeks flushed, hair messy, dim light from your lamp making his features even sharper. „Missed me?“
„You can’t just barge in here like that! I’m supposed to be studying“ you whined. Chan chuckled shaking his head.
„so u want me to go, huh?, thought you’d be happy to see me, baby“ he mumbled leaving hot kisses on your neck. „Chan-„ you sighed as your hand flew to tug at his hair.
„Baby we can’t. You know that“ you whispered. „He’s not gonna know“ you could feel his hot breath against your collarbones.
My sister is off limits. That’s what hyunjin always said. It was never a problem really, until one drunken slip with chan on Changbins birthday party turned into something more than it should.
As his fingers slid under the hem of your (his) shirt, you stopped there. „Chan I should really be studying I cant fail this tim-„
„shhh, relax baby, you need some rest, hm?“ Chan mumbled as he slowly took off your shirt. The cold air hitting your nipples right away.
„Lay down for me, would you, love?“ You slowly laid down onto your bed as chan made his way in-between your legs. „Been studying too hard lately, don’t you think?“ Chan slowly kissed his way down from your neck to your breasts. You nod as he gently sucked on one nipple while he cupped and squeezed the other making your legs shake and press together.
“Let me take these off now” he slowly brought his hand to now your soaked lacy panties. “fuck, they’re drenched. You like this knowing your brothers right across the hall, huh?” He rasped.
“Chan pl- please” you whined, head tipping back against the pillows as you tug at his shirt. “Please what, baby? Use your words, pretty.”
“More, I- need more” you mumble into the crook of his neck.
The heat coming from both your bodies was unbearable, flipping you both over so now u were on his lap. Chan chuckled leaning his forehead against yours. Tugging at the waistband of his sweats you could see that he was hard-precum forming at the tip of his cock.
“Needed to see you today-“ he mumbled kissing you on the lips “-couldn’t stop thinking of you wrapped around me.” He groaned as your hand wrapped around his aching cock. Slowly grinding against his length, chan let out a groan. “Fuck baby, so wet from just grinding, huh?”
His hips bucked up, adding to the torture. Earning a moan from both of you.
He was soaked now-shift glistening with your arousal, tip slick and nudging against your entrance every now and then.
“You don’t want me to put it in?”he asked, voice hoarse. “Not even a little?”
“I want your fingers first.” You said. “I want you to feel wha yore doing to me.”
Chan swore under his breath. You felt his hand dip lower, slide between your thighs-and then two fingers, warm and strong, brushed over your slit.
You were dripping.
“Holy shit baby..” His breath caught. “You’re soaked”
And then he slid one finger along your folds, slow and torturing. Just barely teasing. Just enough to make you lose your mind.
You moaned softly, head tilting back, and his lips caught your neck. "You gonna let me play with you, princess? Gonna let me see how wet you get before I fuck you stupid?"
You didn't answer. You just kept grinding —slow and sinful-while his fingers slipped beneath your thong and finally, finally, sank inside.
His fingers were deep inside you now-slow, torturous. He worked you with careful precision, like he was studying every little shiver your body gave, every breath you took. Your hips ground down harder, desperate for more, but he just pulled back, not letting you feel the deep, punishing stroke you needed.
You were soaked. So fucking soaked it was obscene. The sounds of your wetness mixed with the sound of the rain and soft music hummed in the background , but all you could focus on was him-his fingers buried inside, curling against you just enough to make you ache for more.
"God, baby.." Chan muttered, his voice strained, low and ragged. "You're so tight, I can barely move inside you. Just a little... fuck, just a little bit more-"
You whined as his thumb brushed your clit, the sensation so damn good that you nearly bucked right off his lap.
"Chan.." you whimpered, voice breathless, "please.."
He didn't answer. He just moved faster, fingers sinking deeper, thrusting in and out of you in a slow rhythm. Every bump seemed to push you closer to the edge, making you grip his arm tighter, your body trembling as you ground yourself against him again, dragging your soaked thong along his hard cock with every movement.
"Fuck, you feel so good, baby," he groaned in your ear, his lips brushing your skin as he leaned in, his free hand massaging your breast again, squeezing the soft flesh, rolling your nipple between his fingers. "All this wetness... all this for me? For just my fingers, baby girl?"
Your eyes closed, head tipping back as you lost yourself in the sensation. The way his fingers moved, the way his thumb circled your clit, the way he was slowly unraveling you from the inside out. You couldn't stop grinding against him, the friction driving you crazy.
"More," you whispered, needing it. "Please, more."
But Chan's pace stayed maddeningly slow, deliberately pulling away just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't giving you what you wanted-not yet.
"You want more?" he teased, voice thick with desire. "Tell me how bad you want it. Beg for it."
You moaned, grinding harder against his hand, your hips moving as if they had a mind of their own now. "Chan, please. Please... don't stop, I need more."
A satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he added a second finger. The stretch burned, but it was delicious-perfect-and you gasped in response.
"There we go," he murmured, his fingers working in and out of you in a steady rhythm. "Let me hear those pretty sounds. Let me feel how wet you are for me."
You couldn't hold back anymore. You bucked your hips, fucking yourself against his hand, your body pushing harder into him, desperate for that sweet release that was slowly building. You were so close-so close you could taste it.
His fingers moved faster, deeper. His thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit, and that was all it took. The sensation built higher, tighter, until you exploded, hips jerking violently as you came on his fingers, your body trembling with every aftershock.
Chan groaned, voice low and guttural. "Fuck. You're so fucking beautiful when you come on my fingers."
But you weren't done yet.
Your whole body trembled against him, thighs quivering as you tried to steady yourself on his shoulders. His fingers slid out slow, glistening in the dim yellow light of your desk lamp, and Chan's eyes darkened at the sight. He brought them up to his lips without hesitation, sucking them clean as if he hadn't just ruined you on them.
The sight alone made your stomach twist with need again.
"Chan.." your voice was barely above a whisper, raw from the whimpers you'd just spilled into his neck.
He smirked, thumb grazing your trembling inner thigh. "What? Already fucked out from my fingers, baby? You're too easy for me." His words were a taunt, but his voice cracked with hunger.
You shook your head, chest heaving. "I'm not done."
The look he gave you made your pulse skyrocket-like a predator eyeing prey. His hand moved down, cupping your heat possessively, feeling the way you were still dripping, mess clinging to your thighs. "Not done, huh? Guess I'll have to ruin you all over again."
You bit your lip hard, every nerve ending screaming for him, but you couldn't stop the worry bleeding through your voice. "Chan...Hyunjin's literally across the hall."
That only seemed to make him grin wider. "So?
Be quiet for me, princess. Unless you want him to know his little sister's cock-drunk on me."
"Chan!" you hissed, smacking his chest weakly.
He caught your wrist instantly, pulling it to his mouth and kissing your knuckles. "Relax. He's asleep. The only thing keeping me awake tonight was knowing you were here, touching yourself instead of thinking about me."
"I wasn't-" you tried to protest, but his hand slipped between your thighs again, spreading your folds open, cutting your lie off with a strangled gasp.
"Don't lie to me. This pretty pussy's too wet for me to believe you haven't been aching for it." He pushed two fingers back inside, slower this time, deliberate, curling them until your hips jolted.
Your nails dug into his shoulders. "Chan, please-“
"You want my cock now, don't you?" His forehead pressed against yours, his voice a low rasp. "Been begging me with those little whines. I can feel how bad you want it, baby?"
He slid his fingers out, leaving you empty and desperate, and tugged his sweats lower until his cock sprang free-hard, flushed, and leaking. Your mouth went dry at the sight.
"Sit," he ordered, pulling you down onto his lap again. His cock nudged against your slick entrance, heavy and hot. You whimpered, hips instinctively grinding down.
Chan caught your waist, holding you still. "Not yet. Look at me."
You forced your gaze up, meeting his-sharp, intense, pupils blown wide with lust. "This is the last time tonight. After this, you go back to studying, yeah?"
You nodded quickly, desperate, even though you both knew he was lying.
He smirked, guiding you down onto him. The stretch burned, your walls clenching around him inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. Both of you groaned in unison, the sound muffled by his lips crashing into yours.
"Fuck, Chan swore into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips tight. "So tight, baby. Always so fucking tight for me."
You couldn't form words-only broken moans, your nails scratching down his back as you tried to adjust. The fullness was overwhelming, every nerve sparking.
"Move for me," he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Take what you need."
You started to rock your hips slowly, every drag of his cock inside you pulling a whimper from your throat. The friction was perfect, obscene wet sounds filling the room. His hands guided you, lifting you up and pulling you back down onto him until you were bouncing in his lap, breasts brushing against his chest with every movement.
"Shh, baby. Quiet," he hushed, pressing his lips to your ear as you let out another strangled moan. "Gonna wake Hyunjin up if you keep being loud."
"'-I can't," you whined, burying your face in his neck to muffle the sounds.
"That's it. Bite me if you have to."
Your teeth sank into his skin, muffling your cry as he snapped his hips up into you, the sudden pace brutal compared to your slow grinding. The headboard thudded lightly against the wall, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge again.
"Feel that?" he rasped, voice strained. "That's me splitting you open while your brother's asleep a few meters away. You love it, don't you?"
Your answer was a sobbed moan, thighs trembling as you clenched around him.
He chuckled darkly, one hand slipping between your bodies, thumb finding your clit. "I'II make you come again. Gonna make a mess all over my cock this time."
The double stimulation wrecked you. His cock hitting deep, thumb circling your clit in tight, quick motions—it was too much. Your vision blurred, body arching against him as your orgasm tore through you, clenching so hard around him that he cursed loudly against your shoulder.
"Shit, baby-gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that-“ his thrusts grew erratic, hips snapping up desperately until he spilled inside you with a guttural groan, forehead pressed against yours, sweat dripping down his temple.
The room fell into silence, save for the rain still pattering against the window and your ragged breathing.
You collapsed against him, legs shaking, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He held you there, arms wrapped tight around your back, kissing your hairline gently.
After a moment, he chuckled softly. "Guess that's better than anatomy, huh?"
You smacked his chest weakly, but couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped your lips. "You're insane."
"Maybe," he whispered, pressing another kiss to your temple. "But I'm yours."
The playlist had rolled into something soft and familiar. Your lamp burned low, gold around the edges. Chan lay on his side, propped on an elbow, watching you like you were a test he had finally allowed himself to fail.
You stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then turned your head. He was already there to catch the look, to kiss the corner of your mouth, to smooth his hand over your hair and down your shoulder in slow passes that rewrote your heartbeat.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
You nodded, throat thick, then remembered the rules. “Yes.”
He smiled. “Good girl.” He kissed your forehead, gentler than the word deserved. “Water?”
You started to nod again before catching yourself. “Yes, please.”
He grinned at the effort and slipped from the bed, moving silent as shadow. He tugged his hoodie on-yours, his, both-and padded to your desk to pour water into the only clean glass. He looked huge and domestic and out of place and like he had always belonged here.
“Sit up,” he murmured when he returned. You did, blanket tugged to your chest, and he held the glass for you like you were too precious to do it yourself. Maybe you were. He watched you drink, thumb idly stroking your wrist.
When you handed the glass back, he set it quietly on your nightstand, then glanced at the door.
“What if he heard?” you whispered, the worry arriving late now that your pulse had slowed.
Chan’s mouth tugged. “He didn’t.” But then he sobered, eyes kind and sharp at once. “We keep this clean. Careful. Agreed?”
You nodded. “Agreed.”
“Because you’re not a secret,” he added, voice so sincere it ripped something open in you. “We’re just… being smart.”
You stared at him. “That’s the most responsible thing you’ve said all week.”
He laughed softly, then tucked you closer. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”
“Of what? Breaking into my room like a stray cat?”
“A very handsome stray cat.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. He looked at your desk, at the open notes, the smudged highlights, the pen you’d abandoned when the window tapped.
“You should sleep,” he said.
“I should. But I still need…” You trailed off, eyeing the mess of pages. “Tomorrow.”
He didn’t argue. He just kissed your temple and reached for your notes, stacking them neatly, sorting them in a way that made sense in his head, aligning the edges with absurd precision. “You’re going to set a timer for eight,” he said, casual command sliding back in like muscle memory. “I’ll wake you at six-thirty. You’ll have coffee. You’ll review. You’ll be fine.”
“Bossy.”
“You like me bossy.”
You didn’t deny it.
He pulled your phone from under a pillow, thumbed to your alarms, and set them with the confidence of a man who fully intended to be here to turn them off before they woke the building. He caught your look and shrugged. “What? I’m committed to the bit.”
“Is the bit you being my personal calendar?”
“The bit is me taking care of you,” he said, simple and unashamed.
Something cinched low in your chest. “You’re staying?”
He glanced at the window. “Climbed in. Might as well climb out in the morning.”
You hesitated. “It’s dangerous.”
“Yeah.” He brushed your hair back again, softer than the word. “But I’ll be careful. And I won’t do it if you tell me not to.”
“I won’t.”
His eyes warmed. “Then I’m staying.”
He flicked your lamp off, and the room eased into the bluish dark of rain. He slid in behind you, chest curving to your back, arm looping your waist with a surety that said he already knew the shape of you in sleep. He breathed you in like a promise.
“Chan?”
“Mm?”
“You were… very sweet.”
He nuzzled the crown of your head. “I’m always sweet.”
“You’re not.”
“I am with you.”
You went quiet, heat crawling up your neck for an entirely different reason now. He must have felt it, because he pressed a kiss behind your ear and didn’t ask you to say anything back.
Minutes later, you were skating the soft edge of sleep when you felt him smile against your hair. “You did perfect,” he murmured, voice gone drowsy and fond. “So proud of you.”
“Bossy,” you mumbled again, but your mouth wouldn’t lift into a teasing line. You were too gone, too warm, too held.
“Mine,” he corrected gently, and the word shouldn’t have soothed you like it did, but it did-like a key finally finding the lock.
The rain kept time. The night closed around you both, quiet as a vow.
→ Summary: Chan surprises you when he comes home early from his trip, waking you in the sweetest way. But as the night unfolds, it becomes pretty clear that you’re definitely more than just roommates.
↠ bang chan x f.reader | 3.2k words | 18+
↠ genre: fluffy smut, roommates au, friends to lovers
→ Prompts: #31. "Did you miss me?"
→ Warnings: unprotected sex, soft sex, oral (female receiving), body worship, praise, slight dry humping, chan is determined to show you how much he wants loves you, he like to call you pet names like dove, multiple orgasms, no real major warnings kinda just fluffy smut lol (wow how rare of me)
→ Author Note: Thank you for requesting anon! Learn more about my mini requests here. Also a big thanks to Thea @yoongihan for beta editing this for me <3 As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3 divider credit
You sigh, checking your phone once more (the tenth time in the past five minutes), willing a notification to appear. But your screen remains stubbornly blank, mocking you with its silence.
Chan was supposed to text once he landed, but hours have passed, and still no word from him. He’d been visiting his family for the past week and was returning home tonight. You’d planned to stay up, wanting to be awake when he walked through the door, to ask him how his break was. But as the time creeps closer to midnight, your eyelids grow heavy by the minute, and the cozy warmth of your couch makes staying awake feel impossible.
As much as you’ve enjoyed the past few days of having the apartment to yourself, something felt off. Maybe it’s been the way it’s too quiet, too clean.
Something’s missing. Him.
You bury yourself deeper into the oversized black sweatshirt you stole from him before he’d left. Well, technically, you borrowed it on a chilly night and haven’t given it back yet, but it’s been long enough that you’re semi-confident that it’s a permanent acquisition. The sleeves swallow your hands, the hood flopping over half your face, cocooning you in familiar comfort. It faintly smells just like him, warm, clean, and just a little bit like citrus from the fancy shampoo he swears he doesn’t use.
At some point, without really meaning to, you fell for him. Hard.
Maybe it’s the way his laughter lingers in the air even after he’s left the room, the way he always saves you the last slice of pizza even though you know he wanted it for himself, the way he never complains when you steal his hoodies, even though he absolutely notices.
And you’re pretty sure he likes you back. Like, 99% sure.
But that lingering 1%? That tiny, infuriating sliver of doubt? It’s enough to keep you from doing anything courageous, like admitting that you’ve been secretly crushing on him. You’re too afraid to make the first move, just in case it all blows up in your face. In case he only sees you as a friend. Or worse, as just a roommate.
God, you really, really hope that’s not the case.
At some point, your exhaustion wins, and you drift off without realizing it. You don’t hear the soft click of the door unlocking or Chan’s quiet footsteps as he comes inside.
He exhales, shaking off the lingering weariness from his delayed flights. Kicking his shoes off, he drops his bag by the door before stepping further inside. The apartment is dimly lit from the streetlights, the soft glow filtering in through the curtains. Then, he sees you.
You’re curled up on the couch, nestled in his sweatshirt, your face half-hidden beneath the hood, breathing slowly.
His heart pounds at the sight.
Chan planned to surprise you by coming home early, hence why he didn’t text you back. But fate had other ideas; his flight was delayed not once, but twice tonight. The dinner reservations were long past. The flowers he bought were starting to look a little sad.
But none of that matters now. Not when he was standing in front of you, watching you sleep so peacefully.
He had decided on day two of being home that he missed you badly. That the apartment, his routines, even his favorite coffee shop, all felt off without you in them. And somewhere between the restless nights, long days, and delayed flights he realized something else.
He wasn’t just missing his friend, his roommate.
He was missing you, the person he hadn’t been able to get out of his head.
Chan was planning to tell you that tonight, along with all the other words he’d left unsaid for far too long.
After gently setting down the bouquet of soft, pastel and white colored flowers, he kneels beside the couch.
Carefully, he lifts the edge of the hood covering your face, pushing it back. The warmth in his chest grows as you stir, slowly waking up. Your brow scrunches slightly before your eyelids flutter open, widening when you realize he’s in front of you.
He smiles. God, you’re perfect.
“Hi, dove,” he murmurs softly. “Did you miss me?”
Still caught in the hazy lull of sleep, you loop your arms around his neck as you pull him down onto you, pressing yourself into his warmth like you never want to let go.
“Mmm, so much,” you confess, your voice thick with drowsiness, and the honesty slips past your lips before you even realize it.
Chan freezes for half a second before melting into your embrace, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you just as tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
“Good,” he whispers, pressing the softest kiss against your skin. “Because I missed you more.”
He pulls back as his fingers graze along your jaw, tilting your chin up to guide you toward him. Chan’s touch is gentle, his thumb brushes over your skin like he’s memorizing this moment. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, hazy with sleepiness and something softer, something that makes his heart race.
Before he can think better of it, he leans in again. This time he closes the space between you with a long-awaited kiss.
His lips press against yours tentatively at first, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away, to stop this before it becomes something that can’t be taken back.
But you don’t. You won’t.
Instead, you sigh into him as your arms tighten around his shoulders, like you’re afraid this is a dream and he’ll disappear.
Your hands grip his beanie and tug it off without a second thought. You toss it somewhere—anywhere—because all you care about is threading your fingers through his hair. You tug lightly at the soft strands you’ve been dying to touch for longer than you care to admit.
Chan groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating between you. It sends a delicious shiver down your spine. Heat coils low in your stomach, setting every nerve on fire.
He moves without thinking, climbing over you, pressing you deeper into the couch cushions as he molds himself against you. His body fits perfectly against yours, warm and solid, as if he were always meant to be there.
His grip slides down to your waist, fingers tightening like he needs to hold onto something real, something grounding, as he shifts closer. And then, god, he rolls his hips down against yours, a teasing friction that steals the breath from your lungs.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. Chan exhales sharply, like he’s barely holding himself together, which sends a thrill through you.
He’s so familiar, yet right now, he feels like something entirely new. Something you’ve wanted for a while.
The kiss deepens, his tongue traces along yours, tasting you, learning you. It’s slow but searing, a quiet confession wrapped in every press of your lips, every lingering touch that’s shared.
There’s no more uncertainty. It’s just you and him, tangled together in the quiet of your apartment, finally giving in.
Chan leans in again, lips brushing over yours, voice barely above a whisper, “Tell me you want this too.”
You nod, knowing there’s no going back.
Thank god.
Your hands trail down his firm back, fingers exploring the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. Needing more, you tug at the hem, silently asking for it to go.
Chan pulls back just enough to strip it off, tossing it aside. His gaze drops to you, dark yet soft, and then he’s helping you out of yours, the one you’ve practically lived in since he left.
He temporarily forgets to breathe when he realizes you’re bare beneath it.
A low, appreciative sound rumbles in his chest as his fingers lightly trace over your skin. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something heady, something possessive.
Then his lips are on you again, trailing down the curve of your neck. He leaves a path of open-mouthed kisses that make you shiver while his hands skim your sides, mapping the dips and curves of your body like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s waited too long for this moment to rush through it.
He pauses just above your breasts, his breath warm against your skin. Looking up, he asks a silent question with his eyes, waiting for permission.
You give him a small nod, tilting your head back in anticipation.
That’s all the confirmation he needs.
His mouth closes around the soft peak of your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, drawing a gasp from your lips. The heat of it sends a rush of pleasure straight through you, making your fingers tighten in his hair.
His other hand moves to your other breast, kneading gently, his thumb circling and teasing in tandem with his mouth. He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your skin, making your body arch into his touch, desperate for more.
Chan lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes again, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, his voice a velvety rasp against your skin.
Then he lowers his mouth again, determined to worship every inch of you.
Chan doesn’t rush. He never does, but definitely not tonight, not with you.
He switches sides, his mouth leaving a wet trail as he latches onto your other breast, giving it just as much attention as the first. His tongue flicks over the sensitive peak before he sucks gently, pulling a soft moan from your lips.
You writhe beneath him, your back arching into his warmth, silently begging for more. He groans against your skin at the way you respond to him.
When he feels like you can’t take anymore of his teasing, his lips begin their descent, leaving a slow, burning trail of kisses down your stomach. His tongue sneaking out every so often to taste you, to savor the way your skin shivers under his attention. His hands smooth over your sides as he moves lower and lower, until he reaches the waistband of your sweatpants.
Chan pauses, glancing up at you with hooded eyes, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. His fingers hook into the band, dragging it down just slightly, just enough to make your heart skip a beat.
“You’re already so needy for me, dove,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something dark and addictive.
You don’t get the chance to respond before he tugs your sweatpants down in one fluid motion, helping you out of them with ease.
And then he sees it.
The damp patch coating the thin fabric of your panties.
Chan sucks in a sharp breath, his jaw clenching as his fingers ghost over the evidence of your arousal, his touch barely there but just enough to make you squirm. His eyes flick back up to yours, burning with unspoken promises.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice raw with restraint. “Look at you…”
He presses a teasing kiss just above the wet spot, whispering against you, “I need to taste you.”
“Please, Channie,” you whimper, your voice laced with desperation. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him closer. “I want you to.”
A deep groan escapes his lungs. He loves the way you plead for him, the way his nickname sounds falling from your pretty lips.
His fingers find their way between your thighs, pressing against the soaked fabric of your panties. He rubs slow circles over your aching core, teasing you, testing you, driving you to the edge before he’s even truly begun. The sensation sends another shudder through you, and when your moan spills into the air, it intertwines with his own.
“Anything for you, dove,” he breathes, his voice thick with devotion and desire.
Chan hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, gently dragging them down your legs. He takes his time, savoring every inch he reveals, watching as you tremble beneath him.
Then he sees all of you.
He sucks in a breath, his pupils blown wide with hunger as he drinks in the sight of your slick, glistening folds. He swallows hard as his arousal painfully strains against his pants, twitching at the mere thought of tasting you.
Lowering himself between your thighs, he presses soft kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his lips barely grazing where you need him most. The anticipation is maddening, and he knows that he has you squirming. He smirks as your hips instinctively tilt toward him, silently begging.
He chuckles, but obliges.
Chan’s nose nuzzles against your swollen, needy clit. As he breathes you in, his own restraint hangs by a thread. His tongue delves into your slick heat, firmly parting you as he groans into you, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure straight through your core.
You cry out his name, your back arching off the couch. Your nails dig into his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as waves of pleasure crash over you.
Chan tightens his grip on your thighs, holding you open as he’s determined to make you fall apart beneath him. He’s waited to fucking long for this.
“Oh, fuck,” you mewl, you voice becoming shaky. “Chan, I’m gonna come.”
His chest swells with pride, impressed at how quickly he’s unraveled you. He’s barely touched you, and yet here you are just about to fall apart for him.
“That’s it, dove,” he rasps against your slick skin, his tongue relentless, pushing you right over the edge. “Let go for me.”
Your body tenses before shattering into pure pleasure. Waves of ecstasy wash over you as you cry out his name. He groans as he feels you come undone against his mouth, your release coating his tongue. Hot, sweet, and so intoxicating.
Chan doesn’t stop, not until he’s wrung every last drop from you, his tongue lapping up the remnants of your pleasure, drinking you in like he’s starving. He finally lets up once you're a quivering mess beneath him.
He sits up, satisfaction glinting in his darkened eyes as he admires your flushed skin, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Especially the dazed, blissed-out look on your face.
Fucking breathtaking.
You don’t give him long to revel in his work before you sit up to face him. Your fingers grip the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, pressing your lips to his in a feverish kiss. You don’t care that you can taste yourself on his lips; in fact, it only fuels the fire burning between you.
Your hands slide down his toned stomach, finding the waistband of his pants. With a teasing tug, you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, eyes wide, lips parted, pure temptation in your expression.
“I want to return the favor,” you murmur, voice still heavy with the remnants of your pleasure.
Chan groans, his head falling forward, his resolve hanging by a thread. His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing over your swollen lips as he exhales a shaky breath.
“Dove,” he rasps, his voice straining with need, “as much as I’d love that, I need to be inside you.”
Your lips curl into a playful, breathy giggle. “Even better.”
Without another word, you push his pants and briefs down in one smooth motion, freeing him, finally seeing him in all his aching glory.
And fuck, you want him just as badly as he wants you.
Chan positions himself at your entrance, his tip teasing your slick heat for just long enough to make you shiver with anticipation. But he’s too desperate to feel you, to claim you.
With one smooth thrust, he buries himself deep inside you. He fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way. Your fingers digging into his arms as a broken moan falls from your lips.
“Shit,” Chan groans, his forehead dropping against yours as he fights to steady himself. “So tight…so perfect for me.”
He rolls his hips, setting a slow rhythm, his thick length dragging against your walls in a way that has your toes curling. His body trembles with restraint, every muscle tense as he battles the overwhelming urge to let go, to ruin you right here and now. But he knows better, there will be plenty of time to fuck you into the couch like there’s no tomorrow.
Right now, he wants to savor this moment.
Chan nuzzles into your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he exhales shakily. A hand grips your waist, holding you steady as he thrusts again. His cock brushes against that divine spot inside you, causing you to let out a sharp gasp.
“Chan, ohmygod,” you whine, your voice breathy and ultimately wrecked. “Feels so good,”
He lifts his head, his dark, lust-blown eyes locking onto yours as a smirk tugs at his lips.
“Yeah?” His voice drips with affection and need. He rolls his hips again, slower this time, ensuring his thick head hits that perfect spot with maddening precision. “Then let me make it even better, dove.”
Chan’s grip moves to your thigh, his fingers press into your heated skin as he lifts your leg over his shoulder. The shift sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the new angle allowing him to sink even deeper into you.
Your breath stutters, a strangled moan spilling out as white-hot pleasure floods your senses. His name falls from your mouth like a mantra, broken and breathless, as the coil inside you winds up impossibly tight. Then it snaps.
A cry rips from your throat as pleasure crashes over you, your body trembling. The intensity leaves you breathless, your head tipping back as you succumb to the sheer bliss of Bang Chan.
Chan watches you with hooded eyes, mesmerized by the way you fall apart beneath him. His control is slipping, unraveling with every squeeze of your walls around his cock. His lips reattach to yours, swallowing your moans as your fingers dig into his sweat-slicked skin.
He groans, his rhythm faltering as he feels you tighten around him, gripping him so perfectly. He clenches his jaw, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts through your orgasm, chasing his own.
“Shit, baby. I’m—”
Chan’s voice breaks into a strangled moan as he finally tumbles over the edge. He buries himself deep, his release spilling inside you. His body shudders against yours, every muscle trembling with the force of his pleasure.
Completely spent, he collapses onto you, his weight warm and comforting as you both catch your breath, your bodies still tangled together in the aftermath. For a moment, you lay there wrapped in each other, the only sound filling the room is your mingled, steadying breaths.
Chan shifts slightly to press soft, lingering kisses along your jaw. His lips are warm and tender against your skin, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. And then he whispers something that makes your heart swell.
“I love you,” he murmurs, voice thick with sincerity.
Your lips curl into a smile, warmth spreading through your chest. Before you can respond, he adds teasingly, “But just so you know… I will be confiscating my favorite sweatshirt back from you.”
You let out a sleepy giggle, fingers lazily tracing patterns along his back.
“Good luck with that.”
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↳ PLEASURE (樂): BAD BLOOD ⋮ BC
· BLEEP ⋮ OT8
· GROUPIE ⋮ 3RACHA 🎟
· KNIGHT CLUB ⋮ BC 🎟
· SINFUL RENDEZVOUS ⋮ OT8 🧧
· UNCONDITIONAL ⋮ HHJ
🎬 INTERMISSION
· BOW DOWN ⋮ BC
· KINTSUGI ⋮ BC
· THE ZONE 2k25 ⋮ HHJ, LMH
📼 COMPLETED
· DON'T LET ME LOVE YOU ⋮ BC 🧧
· INFERNO ⋮ HHJ
· DAECHWITA RELOADED ⋮ BC, HHJ
· HELL'S KITCHEN ⋮ BC 🧧
· APHRODISIACS ⋮ LMH
· UNPROFESSIONAL ⋮ BC 🧧
· CHARCOAL BLUES IN C MINOR ⋮ HHJ 🧧
· ONE NIGHT AT BACK DOOR ⋮ OT8
· UNDERTONES ⋮ HHJ
· REFLECTION ⋮ HHJ
· TRAPPED ⋮ BC
· DIABLO ⋮ BC
· YOU AND THE STREETS ⋮ BC x HHJ
· MOONSHINE ⋮ BC
· stimulATE: SCENT ⋮ BC
· HOMEBOUND CONTRAIL ⋮ BC
· FURTHER THAN FOREVER ⋮ LMH
· I LOVE YOU, MAN ⋮ HJS
· 22 STROKES ⋮ HHJ
· DRESS REHEARSAL ⋮ HHJ
· OFF THE RECORD ⋮ LMH
· POISON ⋮ BC
· HIDE THE SCISSORS ⋮ HHJ
· VERSACE ON THE FLOOR ⋮ HHJ
· THIRD WHEEL ⋮ fem!HHJ, BC
· APARTMENT 31 ⋮ KSM, YJI
· FIND ME (INSIDE EVERY HEARTBEAT) ⋮ LMH
· BETWEEN US ⋮ KSM, LMH
· HORIZONTAL HIERARCHY ⋮ LMH
· EVERYTHINGOES ⋮ LMH
· PUDDING ⋮ LMH
· TKO ⋮ LMH
· BUBBLEGUM ⋮ LMH, BC
· A CONVERSATION WITH THE ARTIST ⋮ HHJ
۶ৎ description : how are you meant to study with seunghyun right there? it was his job to make you study right of course..
۶ৎ warnings / contents : established relationship : smut (female and male anatomy obv, unprotected sex, piv, cockwarming, dom!seunghyun, slightly mean seunghyun, kinda brat reader, praise, teasing) - both characters are over the age of 18
masterlist | taglist form requested !
You knew you were screwed over the moment he walked through your door, hair slightly messy, shirt fitting just right to show off his arms and the veins crawling up his hands.
His offer was sweet, come over whilst you studied, offer help to you when you needed it, murmur soft encouraging words to usher you further.
But it did nothing to help the ache growing inside you, dull, almost unbearable.
And he didn’t notice at first.
Seunghyun sat on your bed, just a few feet away from your desk, his legs parted slightly, one hand behind his hair on the headboard, the other clutching his phone lightly.
His jawline was only accentuated underneath the soft light of your room, something your eyes kept drifting back to every other minute.
Your studying felt pointless now.
The words weren’t making sense, they weren’t registering or sinking into your head at all.
The only thoughts in your mind being on just how good Seunghyun looked whilst being in your space.
With unsteady hands, you copied down words from your textbook when he stood behind you, meaningless, unregistered, your fingers curled around the pen with a grip too tight it left indents on your palm.
“how’s it going baby, you doing okay?” he smiled down at you gently, though you kept your head trained onto the thin pages that seemed like they were trying to bully you now.
You nodded, broken when his hand gently petted at your hair, fingers running against the top of your scalp in what was meant to be a comforting motion.
But only turned out to worsen the slickness pooling between your legs.
Seunghyun took your silence for concentration, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head before muttering against you, but even the sound of his voice felt cruel to you,
“doing so good baby, you need anything?” he put softly, his hand going from your hair to your arm as he spoke, his voice sending waves of heat through you.
The only thing you needed was him.
Seunghyun’s hand reached over from behind you, settling onto the desk as if he was caging you between him and the way your thighs started rubbing together instinctively.
Your breath caught in your throat, mouth going dry over the smallest action, “no im okay” you brush it off with a small, practised smile, hoping he didn’t notice the way you were starting to feel and look a little flushed.
He hummed, low and rhythmic, as if he figured out from your words alone exactly why you didn’t seem to be studying properly anymore.
“you sure? you look flushed” he commented, lips tugging up to a small smirk, watching as you crossed your leg over the other, the movement hesitant and awkward.
Seunghyun span your chair around carefully, his hands cupping your cheeks in his, “you feeling okay?”
You could tell by his expression alone that he had realised, and embarrassment should have pooled low in your stomach.
But it didn’t.
You were desperate, the light scent of his cologne acting like it was heightening your senses, and you had to resist not to just tell it to him straight.
“please, Seunghyun” you quietly pleaded, voice shaky as if you were asking for something you’d never done before, drifting your gaze from his neck to his eyes.
His thumb stroked against your cheek almost mockingly, “please what baby? what’s the matter?” he knew exactly what the matter was, and of course he knew exactly how to help.
Although, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t make sure that you were studying efficiently?
“need you” you looked up at him properly as if to try and convince him, and he almost gave in to the look on your face and how you were asking for him so prettily.
Seunghyun leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, sweet, and you felt like you had won, kissing back with the same equal passion.
Until he pulled away again after a few seconds, tapping your cheek a few times mockingly, “keep studying” he reminded you, turning your chair back towards your desk.
“that’s just mean” you complain, head whipping back to see him go back to laying back on your bed, as if he hadn’t just denied you what you so desperately wanted…because he wanted you to study?
He grinned at you almost evilly, “go on” he motioned towards your textbooks that laid open, barely looked at.
Was you wanting him so much to ask for?
Without a word you stood up from your chair, making your way to him before you straddled his waist, his hands instinctively coming to your hips.
“please?” you pout slightly for good measure, your hands sliding underneath his jaw as if you knew exactly what would make him give in.
And normally, his resolve would falter, even just a little bit. But now he looked at you blankly, and when he leaned forward, his hands on your hips tightening their grip,
You really thought you had won.
His hands picked you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his torso for balance as he walked you.
Only to drop you back into your desk chair, carefully but stern enough to tell you to stop messing with him now, and get on with what you were meant to be doing.
“priorities” he muttered when you looked at him defeated, and for Seunghyun to say no to as something else entirely.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. You could see the slight strain in his pants and the way his breathing pattern had changed.
It was that to him, studying was more important for you right now, and if it meant ignoring your attempts to make him give in and give you what you wanted, he was willing to make both of you suffer for it.
“but studying’s not my priority right now” you attempt, looking up at him almost defiantly, but he shook his head no, once again.
Seunghyun smirked lightly at your growing impatience, at the way you couldn’t sit still properly, the way he could tell you were starting to feel uncomfortable under the weight of your need.
He always took care of you, in that way and so many others, but he would never deny you, always fulfilling every need until you were eyes glazed over and senseless from him.
But he couldn’t deny that it gave him an sort of thrill knowing that he wasn’t just giving it to you the moment you asked for it.
“it should be your priority, don’t make me ask you again, i came over for you to study” he reminded you, a quiet command that didn’t really give room for any more defiance.
He was making you wait. It was torturous, almost cruel to ask you to just study when you were almost dripping through your panties every time his fingers grazed your sensitive skin in the smallest of ways.
And you weren’t used to him making you wait, “guess i’ll have to do it myself then” you countered, hoping it would tick something off in him.
But he merely huffed a small laugh, moving back to your bed, “no you won’t” he spoke, not challenging you, just stating the obvious.
You get off your chair, yet again, although this time you crouched by the bed where he was laying, “Hyunnie, please, i’ll go back to studying after”
Your voice held that velvety tone he adored, and finally, he gave in, but not in the way you would have expected him to.
“get up” he told you simply, and you almost scrambled to your feet in joy, just pleased that he was finally going to pay attention to you.
Although you didn’t know that the attention would be more torturous than it was right now.
Seunghyun sat in your chair, and when you were about to lay your legs over his hips he spun you around, hands laying over your thighs.
You were confused until you heard the zipper of his pants, and you almost cursed yourself at the way he could probably feel some of your arousal.
He sat you down onto his lap, firmly, your thighs draped across his, back to his chest, a startled noise leave your throat before his hand was cupping your cheeks, forcing you to look back and up at him.
"i told you that you need to keep studying. what, you can't study just because you're feeling a bit needy?" Seunghyun taunted, but truthfully you didn't care for his words.
Because, less then two seconds later, you could feel the barely clothed length of him pressed against you, and his arms were keeping you up, in the most hypnotising way.
"just hurry up" you whined, turning into a soft sigh when his hand cupped you over the fabric of your panties, feeling the extent of just how much you craved this attention from him.
He chuckled darkly, quiet, his voice skimming your ear, "i'll take my time with you. no one said i'd be fucking you jagiya"
Seunghyun reminded swiftly, and your blood almost ran cold, chest tightening with something more than you could explain, but he continued, palm pressing firmer against you,
"you're fucking dripping. i've barely touched you" Seunghyun's words were mocking, his lips grazing your jaw as he spoke.
The action was condescending in a way that had you try and shut your thighs together completely out of shame.
But he didn't let you, his other hand forcing your thighs open again, sprawled out over him further than before, his palm that was against you sliding up your clothed core firm enough until you whimpered,
"Hyunnie, stop being like this, just want you to take care of me" your words were betrayed by the light tremble in your voice.
You looked back at him, seeing the pretty hollow of his throat, his adams apple bobbing slightly as he looked at you with something indescribable.
He grinned, as if he didn't know what he was doing, "i would have took care of you properly if you had just studied for a bit longer like i asked of you”
Seunghyun started, admiring the almost helpless yet annoyed look on your face before continuing,
“but you decided to keep trying and being persistent. so now you're gonna be dripping over me whilst you put your head back to your books"
His arm lifted your hips up from his lap, moving your panties to the side to position himself at your entrance.
The hard length pulsed against you, his fingertips digging into your hip as if he couldn’t deny how much you affected him too.
Although he was stronger than you were in that sense.
More capable of letting the moment drag on, of making you both wait until it almost physically hurt.
Your breathing shallowed, your hands finding solace on his forearms for both support and something to grip when he pushed inside you, easily due to how much you were aching for him.
“fuck- so good” you whined near his ear, the only thoughts in your mind about just how much you could feel at this angle, every inch suffocating and magical at the same time.
Seunghyun steadied you once you were seated onto his lap again, bottomed out inside you, you’d never felt so full, so desperate for something.
You could feel his chest rising and falling beneath you unguarded, the sheer feeling of you clenching around him already enough for him to lose restraint.
But he couldn’t.
His fingers trailed underneath your jaw, lifting your head up to face your idle textbook,
“this what you wanted? you’re gonna sit still and get back to studying now yeah?” Seunghyun spoke simply, fingers gripping your jaw tighter.
How could he expect you to just study when he was nestled so deeply inside of you?
Your hips ground down onto him, “Seunghyun, you can’t expect me to just study, or can you just not fuck me properly?”
He didn’t even falter at your words, his other hand moving to press down onto your lower stomach.
The action started creating waves of pressure mixing inside you alongside the burning pleasure.
But his hand stilled your movements, “stay the fuck still baby, and if you do good enough i’ll take care of you after yeah? for now, you’re gonna keep me warm, because apparently you can’t study without having me inside you”
His words were a mixture of comfort and taunting, watching your face from over your shoulder until you looked back at him.
Your expression was needy, desperate, ticked off at him for making you wait when it was right there, inside you.
Seunghyun nodded towards your pen, silently ushering you to pick it up, which you did eventually,
realising there was no other way around it and you could deal with this if it meant you could have him in some sort of way.
You were wrong.
You couldn’t deal with this.
You would rather have nothing and suffer then having a little bit urging you to take more, but you knew you couldn’t.
Not with his grip that was now on your hips and the way he sat back in your chair as if his cock wasn’t pressing against a spot inside you that had you whimpering everytime you twitched or moved in the most minute way.
The first couple minutes you saw as a genuine method of torture, like your desperation was laughing down at you as you almost teared up with just how much you craved for him to move.
His hands traced circles over your hips, sometimes trailing down to your thighs just to watch the muscles tense with anticipation before moving back to their original spot.
“there you go, keep going” he murmured, encouragingly if it weren’t for how low his voice was and how the soft kiss he pressed to the back of your neck didn’t make your spine shiver.
But you managed at first, fell into a rhythm, tried to force yourself to focus on the words of the pages as if you cared about them.
And when you finally got somewhat comfortable, somewhat concentrated on the work in front of you,
He shifted, using your hips as leverage to lift you up slightly, before grinding you back down onto him, and you cried out, half in shock and half in sudden unexpected pleasure.
But that was it.
No more than that.
He kept your hips back grounded don’t him still again, and you cursed him in your head for the way your thighs were aching just from the weight of him inside you.
“Hyunnie, move- please, just a little more” You pleaded, leaning back against him with a whine, brows furrowing slightly.
Impatient, sorrowfully, your thighs twitching lightly as if trying not to move them too much.
Seunghyun’s hands went to your thighs, steadying them under the palms of his hands, keeping you open and still for him, “shhh, just a bit longer, you can do it”
His lips peppered kisses along your jaw from behind as if to comfort you, and after a few shaky breaths and an ache in your core impossible to ignore,
You carried on.
Just a bit longer, he said, you could do that.
Your pen wrote again, but this time it was worse than when you were originally studying, your handwriting growing messier, just like the mess pooling between your thighs and down onto his.
“no, no, i can’t- please” you practically cried out, leaning back into him, dropping your pen frustrated, your head dropping to his chest.
“you can, and you will, just a little longer i said” he told you, fingers cradling your hair gently.
As if he wasn’t this close to saying fuck it and bending you over the desk to take you properly.
But Seunghyun always stuck to his words.
Your cheeks flushed from equal amounts of shame and sheer desperation, you felt pathetic being this worked up over the man who had you held to him like he was calm about it.
“stop squirming, be grateful i’m giving you at least something” his words stung your chest with more need, it was infuriating how much you were willing to do to feel more of him.
Two minutes you lasted this time.
Two before you were subconsciously moving your hips on him, weak, unsteadily,
your hands still working on your studying but your whimpers suggested otherwise as you moved against him.
And he let you, at first. Let you take the slightest relief you needed to keep going, you didn’t have the energy anymore to work yourself properly over him.
Seunghyun held back his groans, having barely being able to breath at all with how tight you were clenching around him like a vice trying to suffocate him.
And when he gripped your hips again, stilling you, you thought he was going to stop your movements again, force you to keep your head down.
Except, he did the complete opposite, his hands moving you up and down his cock, knocking the wind out of you almost as he took over the pace, finally giving you what you wanted until it was overwhelming.
The wet sounds that could be heard was sickeningly loud, evidence of just how much it had affected you to even be sitting on his lap like that for what felt like eternity.
“fuck- hyunnie, ‘s too much” you cried out, leaning forward, your hands on the desk keeping you somewhat steady, your back arching so prettily under his view.
One hand moved to the small of your back, pressing down enough to keep you arched so he could ravage his cock inside you, impossibly deeper, harsher, a gruellingly punishing pace.
“too much baby?” you were begging for so long, i finally give you what you wanted until and it’s ’too much’?”
Seunghyun spoke through gritted teeth, grinding you down onto him until he reached that spot inside you that had your thighs instinctively trying to close around him.
“oh but you look so pretty fucked down by me” he praised you, the angel letting him watch his cock disappear inside you, watching how your core fluttered around him.
Your noises loudened with each hard thrust that came from him, even underneath you and using your body how he pleased, he could still make you see stars.
You whimpered, “feels so good” your words were quiet despite how you couldn’t control the volume of your moans, fucking back down onto him whenever you could, desperately chasing that high.
And it wasn’t far out of reach.
It was plummeting towards you, uncontrollable, hard, your lips parted, eyes fluttering shut.
“i know baby, bet it feels so good doesn’t it? do you see the mess you left on my thighs?”
Seunghyun’s words tugged you further to the edge, and he could tell just how fucked out you looked,
his hand gently pulling you back to his chest, hand over your forehead to keep you still as he pushed you further, hips precise with their movement, cool buried deep inside you.
“hyunnie- please, i’m close” you choked out, your skin glistening with a light layer of sweat, similar to his as you begged for him to let you go over that release you chased.
“there you go, you can cum” his lips pressed against your temple as he felt you go over the edge, thighs trembling lightly, whimpering into his chest, hands gripping his forearms again.
It was like your body had to wait for his words before it even let you release, and you did, hard, with him not far behind you, letting you ride out the waves of your orgasm.
And his came moments after, slightly overwhelming but godly, spilling inside you until you thought you were completely full of him.
his hand left your hip, brushing your hair out of your face as if he hasn’t just bruised your skin under his grip.
As if he hand just given you the most satisfying yet cruel orgasm of your life.
And even when his cock still twitched landed you, and his breathing was ragged, he tapped your book,
it's officially summer so you know what that means !! me and @flymetothexmoon had this idea at the same time, what originally stemmed from me trying to think of title ideas for my thanos smut fic xd
from 1-16 of july, fics based off the brat album will be posted by all these lovely writers for various fandoms like: squid game, bigbang, 2ne1, stray kids, aespa, and bts.
360 — T.O.P (BIGBANG), @peachesclose
Club Classics — G-DRAGON (BIGBANG), @currentloser
Sympathy is a Knife — G-DRAGON (BIGBANG), @jiyongsangel
I Might Say Something Stupid — T.O.P (BIGBANG), @moonqz4now
Talk Talk — BANGCHAN (SKZ), @breakmeoff
Von Dutch — G-DRAGON (BIGBANG), @mashtatosworld
Everything is Romantic — HYUNJIN (SKZ), @emmiesoverthemoon
Rewind — G-DRAGON (BIGBANG), @steponupbabe
So I — JUNGKOOK (BTS), @petersasteria
Girl So Confusing — WINTER (AESPA), @makeitworse
Apple — THANOS (SQUID GAME), @flymetothexmoon
B2B — G-DRAGON (BIGBANG), @loveesiren
Mean Girls — G-DRAGON (BIGBANG), @moontabi
I Think About It All The Time — G-DRAGON (BIGBANG), @jiuwaves
365 — G-DRAGON (BIGBANG), @ikwon1c
Guess — CL (2NE1), @gdinthehouseee
writers please tag it with 'bratsummerchallenge25' as it will make it easier to find
please reply to this post if you would like to be tagged in the fics !!
the bigbang (and friends) october writing challenge
Hey everyone! October is two days away and that’s when the October writing challenge kicks off! @wcnderlnds and I are so excited to get this going. Thank you to everyone who volunteered to post, we are so excited to see what you’ve come up with!
Just a couple of quick reminders;
the number you selected is the day you’re posting, so make sure to have them up on that day!
please make sure to tag everyone who’s participating in the challenge in your fic so we can all see each others posts (tag list below the cut) You can still tag your normal taglists as well!
please use the hashtag #bbandfriendsoctoberchallenge so that they’re easier to find in the tags.
If you aren’t participating in the challenge and want to be tagged in all the fics, reply to this post and we’ll get a taglist started on this post.
*There are still a few spots left, if you'd like to take a prompt feel free to message me or comment on this post and we'll get you added to the event. The original post can be found here. Feel free to check it out to see what prompts are open or who's writing what.
Summary: you and chan have never had boundaries—not when it comes to teasing touches, shared beds, or letting your best friend feel you up during movie night like it’s the most normal thing in the world. but one night, a slow grind turns messy, your thong ends up pushed aside, and his cock slips in mid-rut. now you’re both soaked, breathless, and way past the point of pretending this is just friendship.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
There was never a time when your friendship with Chan made sense to anyone but the two of you.
From the outside, it looked like a disaster waiting to happen—too touchy, too intimate, way too comfortable. But that’s just how it had always been. You met years ago, fell into step like you’d known each other in another life. No awkward stage, no hesitancy. You talked about everything—sex, bodies, kinks, heartbreaks—and touched like you had every right to each other’s skin. It wasn’t sexual. It just… was. You shared beds without thinking about it, showered in the same bathroom without flinching. He’d smack your ass just to say hi, you’d crawl into his lap without asking. It wasn’t weird.
You were just like that.
So when you were lounging on the couch with your head in his lap, both of you buried in your phones while the TV flickered in the background, nothing about it felt strange. His hand had been resting on your stomach for the last twenty minutes, warm and solid, fingertips tracing lazy shapes into the soft skin just above your waistband.
You were swiping through a dating app, aimlessly thumbing through profiles while half-listening to the buzz of a cooking show on low volume. Every now and then you’d show Chan someone and get his opinion. Most of the time, it was some variation of a snort, an insult, or a shrug.
“Do you think I should go out with him?” you asked, tilting your screen so he could see the guy’s face.
Chan glanced down. “He’s cute. You’ve got a type—skinny wrists and dead eyes.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, your belly shifting under his hand. You felt his palm follow the motion, his fingers spreading just a little wider, drifting upward toward your ribs. It didn’t register as anything out of place.
“Don’t slut-shame me,” you said, eyes back on your screen. “Just ’cause you like girls built like protein tubs.”
“Not true,” he murmured, his thumb sliding just beneath the lower curve of your breast now, barely grazing the softness hidden under your cropped shirt. “I like big tits too.”
You didn’t even blink.
“You just like my tits.”
Chan’s fingers twitched slightly, then slipped fully under your shirt. The warmth of his palm curved around your breast with a familiarity that should’ve startled you—but it didn’t. His thumb brushed idly over your nipple, featherlight. Absentminded. Like he wasn’t even thinking about what he was doing.
Maybe he wasn’t. That was the thing—this was just normal for the two of you. Unfiltered. Physical. Boundaries existed for other people.
You shifted slightly, one leg bending at the knee as you got more comfortable against his thighs.
“We still going to that food truck place tomorrow?” you asked, scrolling again like you didn’t have your best friend casually fondling your chest in the middle of a Tuesday night.
“Yeah,” Chan replied, voice smooth. “But if the line’s long, I’m bailing. I don’t care how good the dumplings are.”
You smiled, eyes still on your screen as your nipples tightened beneath his touch. The TV flickered, forgotten. The air between you stayed calm, easy. His hand never moved.
Because that’s just how you were.
Chan’s thumb swept over your nipple again, slow and almost lazy, like he wasn’t paying attention. But you felt it—all of it. The way it firmed beneath his touch, the tiny flickers of heat that started low in your belly and stretched out with every absentminded pass of his hand. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t glance down. Just kept his eyes on his screen like he was scrolling through memes and not idly playing with your tits like they belonged to him.
His palm shifted, adjusting the weight of your breast in his hand. His fingers curled just slightly, cupping the fullness like it was his favorite thing to hold. Maybe it was. He’d always liked touching you, always been grabby in that way that should’ve been inappropriate—but wasn’t. Not between you two.
You didn’t say a word. Just let him touch you while you lay there like a pillow, letting your body react however it wanted. Your nipple pebbled harder under his thumb, and he noticed that. You felt the change in his rhythm—a little more deliberate now. Still slow. Still casual. But deliberate.
He pinched lightly, then soothed the sensitive nub with the pad of his thumb. Rolled it between his fingers like he was testing its texture. Still didn’t look at you. Still didn’t say a damn thing.
And you? You just breathed.
The air between you buzzed, thick with something unspoken. Your thighs pressed together slightly, more out of instinct than thought. There was no point in pretending your body wasn’t reacting to him. But neither of you acknowledged it—not aloud.
“D’you think I should get my tits pierced?” you asked suddenly, your voice smooth, airy.
Chan chuckled low in his chest, still not pulling his hand away. “Why? So every dude on Tinder can ask if he can bite them?”
“I wouldn’t let just anyone bite them,” you said, grinning. “But I mean… they’d look hot.”
His fingers squeezed gently. “They already look hot.”
It was a throwaway comment. Just another in a long list of easy, flirty nothings that passed between you both without consequence. But something in your stomach fluttered.
You glanced up at him, tilting your head back in his lap. His eyes flicked down just once—to your face, not your chest—and his lips curled like he knew exactly what you were thinking.
Still, his hand stayed exactly where it was. Cupping, brushing, thumbing. Like he couldn’t stop even if he tried.
Like he didn’t want to.
His fingers pinched again, a little firmer this time. A slow roll of your nipple between two fingers before he let it spring back against your chest with the faintest bounce. Your body twitched—subtle, automatic. And when his thumb returned to stroking gentle circles, he twisted just right, hit that perfect spot.
A breath escaped your lips before you could catch it—a soft, airy moan, barely audible but absolutely real.
It wasn’t intentional. You weren’t trying to react. It just felt good.
Chan’s smirk was instant.
He didn’t look at you, but you saw it tug the corner of his lips from your upside-down view in his lap. That playful, cocky expression he always wore when he caught you slipping. His thumb paused for just a second.
“Oh?” he said lightly, teasing. “Someone’s enjoying this a little too much.”
You didn’t even deny it. Just shifted again, pressing your cheek a little deeper into his thigh. And that’s when you felt it—hard and heavy beneath your head, trapped under his sweatpants but impossible to miss.
It didn’t surprise you. Of course he was hard. You were practically massaging your tits into his hands like a personal stress toy.
You exhaled slowly through your nose, your lips curving just slightly as you kept scrolling. “Don’t act like this isn’t your favorite pastime,” you said casually. “I’m basically your fidget toy.”
Chan huffed out a laugh, amused and unbothered. “Yeah, but most fidget toys don’t moan like that.”
You rolled your eyes, but your legs shifted again, thighs pressing together. He noticed that too. Of course he did.
Then, without another word, he let his phone slip from his hand, screen-down on the edge of the couch. You felt the loss of weight on your stomach first, and then the warmth of his second hand joining the first.
Both hands now, under your shirt, cupping the weight of your tits like they were his to knead and play with. His fingers worked in slow tandem, squeezing and shaping, thumbing your nipples until they were tight, sensitive peaks under his palms.
You still hadn’t looked away from your phone, but you weren’t reading a damn thing.
Chan’s thumbs dragged over your nipples in perfect unison, slow and lazy, and you sighed again—this time deeper. Your body was humming now, warm and stretched tight with unspoken need, but your voice stayed even.
“Okay but what if I did get them pierced,” you said, shifting under his touch, “and made you come with me to hold my hand?”
Chan snorted, his thumbs giving a particularly delicious twist to both peaks at once. You twitched again, hips curling in barely-there response.
“I’d hold your tits while they do it, just to make sure they’re even,” he said with a grin. “You know. As a good friend.”
Eventually, the teasing slowed. His hands didn’t leave your body, but the motions dulled into soft, idle strokes—gentle palms over your sides, fingers brushing the underside of your chest like he was petting a cat instead of groping his best friend. Your breathing evened out. The room settled.
You stayed like that for a while, warm and relaxed, the TV muttering something about caramelizing onions in the background.
⸻
The next day…
You were both in Chan’s room now, curled up on his bed with the familiar glow of his laptop playing some trashy reality show you weren’t really watching. It was just there to fill the space. The two of you were in your usual lazy-around mode—him in loose sweatpants, you in one of his old T-shirts and nothing else.
The conversation had somehow drifted to porn. Again.
“I swear I saw this one style somewhere—like, a specific position or rhythm—but I can’t remember what it’s called,” you said, absently chewing on your thumbnail while your brows furrowed in concentration. “It’s like, kind of slow? Deep strokes, but it’s not missionary, not cowgirl… fuck, what is it?”
Chan leaned back against the headboard, arms folded behind his head. “There’s a million categories. Gonna need more than that.”
You tilted your head, then set your phone down. “I think I just need to show you.”
He raised a brow, amused. “You gonna mime porn for me now?”
You grinned, moving without hesitation. “Don’t act like you’re not used to me being inappropriate.”
Before he could say anything else, you swung one leg over and straddled him, settling easily in his lap like it was second nature. Which, for you both, it was.
Your bare thighs spread over his sweatpants, the only thing between you and the thick heat of him. You didn’t react to it. Neither did he. You just placed your hands on his shoulders and shifted slightly—grinding just enough to get the positioning right.
“It’s like…” you started, rolling your hips in a slow, deep rhythm. “They go slow, like this. But with pressure. It’s not rough, but it’s not soft either. You know what I’m talking about?”
Chan’s hands slid to your waist on instinct, fingers flexing gently as you moved in his lap. His eyes stayed on yours, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.
“You’re talking about sensual riding, probably,” he said, voice steady. “Or like, grinding porn. Some people call it ‘passion play’ too.”
“That’s it!” you said, still moving without realizing it. “Passion play. God, it was driving me crazy not remembering.”
“Yeah?” he murmured, his hands sliding lower, resting at the curve where your ass met your thighs. “Something else driving you crazy now?”
You ignored the quip, not because it didn’t affect you—but because it did, and that was just another Wednesday.
You settled deeper in his lap, pressing flush against the bulge beneath you. It was thick, solid heat between your thighs, but you didn’t react. Not on the surface. Your voice stayed light, easy.
“See? I knew if I acted it out, you’d know.”
Chan chuckled, his hands giving your hips a lazy squeeze. “You always use me as your porn demo partner?”
You smirked, eyes glinting. “Only when I want to make a point.”
⸻
The third episode of the night was halfway through, the room dim except for the flicker of the screen and the soft glow of Chan’s laptop sitting propped on a pillow. You were both under the covers, tangled like always—your back pressed to his chest, your legs slotted easily between his, your ass resting snug against his pelvis.
It wasn’t romantic. Not to you.
You just liked being close. You always had. Whether it was a couch or a bed, whether it was summer or winter, whether you were fully clothed or—like tonight—lounging in nothing but an old oversized tee and your favorite black thong. Chan was in his usual boxers and a loose tank, stretched out behind you with one arm lazily draped over your waist.
His hand rested low on your belly, warm and still. Just there. Comforting.
A sex scene came on—unexpected, a little too raw for the kind of show you’d been watching, but neither of you flinched. You didn’t fast forward. You didn’t comment. You just… watched.
And slowly, almost subconsciously, you pressed back into him.
It wasn’t calculated. There was no intent behind it. You just shifted your weight the tiniest bit, letting your hips tuck tighter into the cradle of his lap.
Chan moved too, subtly adjusting behind you. His palm slid lower over your belly, then settled at your hip. Then lower still.
He squeezed.
Just a light, idle handful of your ass through the soft cotton of your tee—your thong offering no real barrier. His fingers curved around the bare flesh, thumb brushing against the elastic at your hip, holding you tighter as the moaning on-screen picked up in tempo.
You didn’t say a word.
You just breathed a little deeper and let your body melt further into his. Let him grip you like you were his favorite pillow. Let him tug you back against the unmistakable hardness nestled between your cheeks, thick and twitching with every soft rock of your ass as you shifted to “get comfortable.”
He didn’t speak either. Just let out a soft breath against the back of your neck, barely there.
His hand stayed there. Gripping, massaging. Possessive in that unconscious, familiar way he always touched you. Like he had a right to.
Your eyes stayed on the screen, but you weren’t really watching anymore.
The scene on screen faded to black, replaced by soft music and the murmur of dialogue you barely registered. Your body was too warm, your skin tingling from head to toe, your breath steady but slow, like you were trying not to think about how hard Chan was pressing into your ass.
Eventually, you shifted. You didn’t even think about it—you just turned to face him, curling into his chest like you’d done a thousand times before. Your bare legs draped easily over his waist, hooking loosely around him, and your thigh landed right across the thick shape of his cock.
You felt it. Firm. Heavy. Absolutely there.
But you didn’t react. You didn’t have to.
Chan didn’t flinch either. His arm adjusted naturally around your lower back, dragging you in tighter until your hips were flush. His palm settled once again over your ass, only now, with your legs spread over him and your body molded to his, he had a better grip—fingers sinking into soft flesh like he owned it.
Your head was tucked under his chin, your hand idly resting on his chest, fingertips brushing the dip of his collarbone as the light from the screen danced over your skin.
His hand gave your ass a slow squeeze, then a subtle pull—dragging your center slightly over the ridge of his cock like he didn’t even notice he was doing it.
You exhaled, long and even. Heat coiled in your stomach, but your voice stayed light.
“Do you think this show’s actually good,” you murmured, “or are we just too horny to tell?”
Chan chuckled softly, the rumble echoing through your cheek.
Then he paused.
His voice dropped lower, quieter—something just for you, under the blankets and behind the hush of night.
“Wanna watch porn instead?”
He said it like a joke. Like it didn’t matter.
But he didn’t laugh.
His fingers pressed tighter into your ass, like punctuation.
You didn’t even hesitate.
“Yeah,” you said softly, voice teasing as your fingers toyed with the edge of his tank top. “Let’s watch porn.”
Chan let out a little huff through his nose, his hand still firmly cradling your ass. “Really?”
You tilted your head back to look at him, eyes gleaming in the low light. “Yeah. But I’m picking.”
He didn’t argue. Just reached for his laptop, one arm still wrapped around you, and pulled up a new tab like it was the most casual thing in the world. You perched your chin on his chest as you both scrolled through thumbnails, still tangled together like a human knot under the sheets.
“What even is your type?” you asked, playfully accusatory. “I swear if you’re into feet, I’m leaving.”
Chan smirked, eyes scanning the screen. “Nah. Passionate, messy, borderline feral. I like it when it looks like they can’t help it.”
Your lips parted slightly. That… sounded familiar.
“Same,” you murmured, thumb grazing over a thumbnail. “Like when they’re so into it they don’t care how loud they are.”
“Or when one of them just loses control halfway through.”
You nodded slowly, suddenly aware of how dry your mouth felt.
“God, that’s hot.”
The silence between you thickened as you both realized the category you kept hovering over was exactly that—slow build, sensual, rough and messy with emotion. You clicked into it, and the first scene loaded without another word.
The room filled with moaning and skin-on-skin slaps. The air shifted.
Your bodies were still pressed close, heat leaking between you. And Chan’s cock—fuck, it was hard. You felt it, not just against your thigh now, but between your legs, pressed right where you needed it most. It twitched against your bare heat, and your body betrayed you.
You rutted against his hips. Just once.
Not even a conscious decision. Just a slow grind, tiny and unassuming, like you were shifting for comfort—but you weren’t.
Chan stilled for a second, breath catching softly through his nose.
Your thighs tensed, and your whole body pulsed. He smelled so good, like clean skin and warmth and something darker now, more male. Pheromones? Sweat? Your imagination?
Either way, your nose brushed his jaw, and you nearly whimpered.
This was getting hard to ignore. Every breath, every twitch, every soft little drag of your cunt against the thick heat beneath you—it was stacking up into a feeling you couldn’t chalk up to “just vibes” anymore.
But neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.
You just lay there, pressed together, watching someone else fall apart on-screen while your own bodies burned quietly under the weight of everything you weren’t saying.
The moaning on screen grew louder—sloppy and desperate, all breathy whines and gasps and wet sounds that left no room for imagination.
You felt it in your spine. In your thighs. In your pussy, clenched and dripping against the soft fabric barely separating you from Chan’s cock.
You didn’t mean to moan. But you did.
Soft. Airy. Unfiltered.
Chan cursed under his breath.
“Fuck…”
You felt his breath hitch, the muscles in his stomach tightening beneath you—and then something shifted. A beat. A decision.
Like he said fuck it.
His hands clamped down hard on your hips, fingers digging into your skin with a strength that stole your breath. And before you could react, he pulled—dragged you hard against his cock, grinding your soaked thong across the thick, pulsing length straining inside his boxers.
You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders automatically, your thighs clenching around his waist.
“Chan—”
His mouth was near your ear, breath heavy but controlled. Too controlled.
“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice low, almost teasing. “You’re the one who said we could watch.”
The laptop had been shoved off to the side, still playing somewhere on the bed. But neither of you were watching anymore.
His hands slid lower, cupping your ass with both palms now, kneading the flesh with rough, greedy motions as he guided your hips in slow, firm circles over him.
Your wetness smeared across his boxers with every grind—slick and hot and undeniable.
He could feel everything.
And he was loving it.
You buried your face in his neck, breathing heavy, trying to pretend this was still nothing—but the heat between your legs said otherwise. The roll of your hips said otherwise.
You wanted this.
And Chan? He wasn’t stopping.
The rhythm between you turned messy—neither of you really trying to hide it anymore. Your hips rolled over him in desperate little grinds, dragging your soaked core over the thick line of his cock again and again. Every pass left a hotter, wetter smear on his boxers, your thong completely useless at this point, clinging to your folds like a whisper.
Chan’s hands gripped your ass tighter, moving you with purpose now. Guiding you. Rocking you.
You bit down on your lip hard, your body on fire, thighs shaking slightly from the way your clit kept catching on the thick seam of his waistband.
Your oversized shirt had slipped low, the neckline wide enough that one of your tits was barely hanging in place. Every time you moved, it bounced slightly—and your nipples were so hard, so sensitive, the fabric brushing them just enough to make you gasp.
Chan noticed. Of course he did.
His eyes had been locked on your chest for the last ten strokes, jaw tight, breathing sharp, until he finally groaned through clenched teeth, eyes fluttering shut like he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Fuck…”
Then he snapped.
He surged up suddenly, one hand flying to the back of your head to anchor you still as his mouth latched onto your tit through the shirt.
He didn’t ask. He didn’t warn.
He just bit.
Right over your nipple—hard enough to make you cry out, soft enough that it still pulsed with pleasure. His mouth was hot and wet through the fabric, his teeth sinking in just enough to feel it, to mark you without leaving evidence.
You gasped, hips jolting forward instinctively, grinding harder into the stiff, twitching length under you.
“Chan—oh my god—”
He didn’t stop. Just mouthed at you again, tugging your nipple through the shirt like it was his favorite fucking toy. His tongue swirled lazily, lips dragging as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes and the dirtiest expression you’d ever seen on his face.
“You keep shoving them in my face like that,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked, “what do you expect me to do?”
Your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging as your hips rutted helplessly against his cock, desperate to feel more—to take more—without saying it out loud.
This wasn’t normal.
But it felt so right.
Chan’s teeth dragged over your nipple one more time before he pulled back, panting softly, eyes locked on your face like he was watching for the fallout.
Instead, you moaned—openly this time—and ground down harder on his cock, letting your cunt drag over him so slow, so deliberate, it left a visible wet spot spreading across the fabric of his boxers.
He cursed again, jaw flexing, and one of his hands slid up from your ass, fingers curling under the soaked crotch of your thong.
“Let me just—” he muttered under his breath, almost like he was trying to justify it to himself.
Then his fingers slipped under the fabric, bold and unhesitating, until they found your slit—soaking, hot, and slick enough that they glided in instantly between your folds.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, almost in awe. “You’re dripping, baby girl.”
Your thighs trembled around his waist as his fingers dragged up your slit, circling your clit once—slow and testing—before sliding back down again.
Your body jolted, and your head dropped back, mouth falling open. “Fuck, Chan—”
That did something to him.
He growled low in his throat, hands moving fast now—shifting your oversized shirt up your chest and pushing the neckline down until your tits spilled out into the open air, flushed and bouncing with every needy roll of your hips.
Then his mouth was back on you, this time bare. No fabric. No barrier.
His lips closed over your nipple, tongue swirling around the hard peak before he sucked, deep and messy and desperate like he needed it. Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in as you cried out, loud and unfiltered, body rocking against his lap with frantic little ruts that had his cock twitching under you like it was begging to be freed.
That’s when something shifted in you.
Something reckless.
Your hand slid down between your bodies, past your belly, past his tense, trembling abs, until your fingers brushed the hard length trapped inside his boxers.
You palmed him once—light, almost curious—but when you felt how thick he was, how hard and hot and leaking against the fabric, your hand came back with more intent.
You wrapped your fingers around the base and stroked up slowly.
His breath stuttered against your chest.
“Jesus—”
And then it happened.
The thick, swollen head of his cock slipped through the parted slit in his boxers, wet and pulsing and heavy in your palm.
You didn’t flinch.
You just held him there—skin to skin for the first time—and started to stroke, slow and smooth and dangerously steady.
You didn’t know if it was curiosity or pure need, but your hand moved like it belonged there, like you’d been waiting for this moment without even realizing it.
Chan’s head dropped to your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged, voice shaking.
“Fuck, don’t stop…”
Your palm worked him slow, every glide slick with his precum as it smeared across your skin. The head of his cock pulsed against your fingers, hot and swollen, leaking more with every lazy stroke. He felt so thick in your hand, heavy with need, like he’d been hard for you for hours—and maybe, fuck, maybe he had.
Chan groaned low against your shoulder, his hips rolling up subtly into your grip, chasing more friction like he couldn’t help himself. His breath fanned hot over your collarbone, mouth open, teeth grazing your skin as his hand returned to your soaked cunt.
This time, he didn’t hesitate.
Two fingers slipped between your folds, coated instantly in your wetness, and he started to circle your clit with that same slow, filthy rhythm your hand had on his cock.
Back and forth. Wet and warm.
Matching strokes.
It was so intimate you could barely breathe.
Your head dropped forward, forehead pressed to his, and your voices tangled in moans and gasps, the room thick with the sound of skin, panting, and the low, steady pulse of porn still playing from the laptop.
His fingers dipped lower—inside now. Two of them, thick and firm, curling deep as your walls clamped down around him like you needed him there.
You cried out softly, hips stuttering in your grind.
He fucked you with his fingers like it was second nature, like he knew your body—thumb circling your clit, fingers curling just right, every movement perfectly tuned to unravel you from the inside out.
And you kept stroking him—deeper, tighter, wrist twisting just enough to make his hips jerk under you, his cock heavy and flushed in your hand, twitching like it was ready to be buried.
Then, suddenly, he pulled his fingers out of you, slick and glistening, and flipped you onto your back in one smooth, desperate move.
Your thighs fell open instinctively, shirt bunched under your arms, tits bare and bouncing with every breath. Chan hovered over you, eyes dark, cock resting right over your pussy—thick and flushed, pressed into your slit but not inside.
He rocked his hips once.
The head of his cock dragged through your folds, smearing your slick from clit to entrance in one long, teasing grind.
You moaned—loud, needy—and he did it again, slow and deliberate, his tip catching your clit just enough to make your back arch off the bed.
“Fuck, you feel so good like this,” he rasped, jaw clenched, hands planted on either side of your head. “I wanna be inside you so bad.”
He rocked again, his cock grinding against your soaked entrance, so close you could feel him pulsing.
But he didn’t push in.
Not yet.
He was waiting.
Testing.
Seeing if either of you would say what you both already knew—you were right there, at the edge, about to cross the last line and never go back.
Chan’s cock dragged over your pussy again, thick and swollen and drenched in your slick, the head catching on your clit just enough to make your thighs tremble.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each grind was sloppier than the last—skin on skin, soaked and hot, your folds parting around him as he slid through with no resistance. Your walls clenched on nothing, greedy and aching, fluttering open every time he passed over your entrance but never in.
It was torture.
You were already moaning for him like it was prayer, like his name was the only word your mouth remembered.
“Chan… fuck, Chan, please…”
He kept grinding, slow and heavy, and you could feel how close he was—his cock twitching against you, dragging over your clit until you were gasping, squirming, clutching at his shoulders like you’d break without more.
Your pussy was so wet it was dripping, pooling between your thighs with every motion, your lips swollen and sensitive, overstimulated from how long he’d been teasing your entrance without giving you what you needed.
Then—
A shift in angle.
A twitch of his hips.
Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist—
And he slipped in.
Not all the way. Not slow. Just—in.
The head of his cock pushed through your entrance mid-grind, and your body swallowed him up like it had been begging for this. Like your pussy had been made for him.
You gasped—no, sobbed—arching up into his chest as your walls clamped around him, soaked and hot and impossibly tight.
His whole body jolted, hands flying to your waist, grip bruising as he froze, buried just barely inside you.
“Fuck.”
His voice was wrecked, like the feel of you around him knocked every bit of breath from his lungs.
You didn’t even try to pull away.
You couldn’t.
Your body clenched down on him so hard, like if he moved, you’d fall apart completely—and you kind of already were. Eyes glassy. Mouth open. Fingernails digging into his back.
“Oh my god,” you whimpered, legs shaking, “don’t move—don’t move, don’t—”
He didn’t.
He just looked down at you, pupils blown wide, sweat beading on his temple, cock twitching inside your soaked, gripping heat.
“You feel so—” He cut off with a groan. “We can’t—fuck, we can’t—”
But his hips rolled forward anyway.
Just a little.
Just enough to make you cry out.
And just like that, you were gone—both of you, spiraling, bodies clinging, grinding, fucking without even meaning to.
Too wet, too deep, too good to stop now.
Chan’s hips stuttered, his breath ragged as he sank the rest of the way in, inch by inch, until he was fully buried inside you. Hot. Thick. Stretching you open in a way that had your fingers clawing into his back, eyes wide and lips parted in a silent moan.
“Oh my god,” you gasped, voice trembling, “you’re really—fuck—”
“I know,” he breathed out, forehead pressed to yours, his voice broken with guilt and disbelief. “I know, baby. I didn’t mean to—fuck, I didn’t think—”
But he still didn’t pull out.
He couldn’t.
You were so tight around him, so wet and warm, your body sucking him in like it had been starved for him. His cock throbbed deep inside you, and you clenched down like you didn’t want him to leave. Like he belonged there.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, rocking his hips just barely. “You feel—so fucking good.”
Your walls fluttered, moaning softly into his mouth as his hips rolled again—slow and deep, every inch dragging against your soaked, sensitive walls. His cock hit that spot that made your vision blur, and your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, keeping him there.
You didn’t care about the guilt anymore.
Didn’t care about what it meant.
You just needed him.
“You shouldn’t be fucking me like this,” you whispered, your voice ragged with pleasure, “but it feels so fucking good—Chan, please—”
His mouth crashed into yours.
It wasn’t a kiss. It was a claim—desperate, filthy, all tongue and teeth and need. He fucked you like he couldn’t stop, couldn’t even try, every thrust pushing deeper, dragging your slick down to his balls as he bottomed out over and over again.
“I’ve wanted this,” he growled against your lips. “I didn’t even fucking know how bad—but fuck, baby, this pussy’s mine now.”
Your head dropped back with a moan so loud you barely recognized your own voice.
“Yes—yes, it’s yours—fuck, take it—”
He did.
He gave you everything—all the years of unspoken tension, all the dirty little touches, all the subconscious want you’d both buried under friendship. Now it was raw, real, his cock dragging against your walls with a rhythm that was messy and perfect, like he was fucking the friendship right out of you.
His hands tangled in your hair, one gripping your throat just enough to make your breath catch as he whispered against your ear.
“You can’t go back now, you know that, right?”
Your eyes rolled back as he slammed into you deeper, your orgasm winding tight, body trembling.
“I don’t want to go back,” you whimpered. “I just want more.”
And with that, he fucked you through it—through the guilt, through the disbelief, through the fact that neither of you would ever be the same again.
Your walls started to flutter, your thighs trembling around his hips as your body begged for release, every nerve lit up and burning. Chan could feel it—the way your pussy clenched tighter around him with every stroke, like your body was trying to pull him in, milk him, keep him.
“That’s it,” he groaned, driving in harder now, deeper. “You’re close, aren’t you? Gonna cum on my cock, baby?”
You were already nodding, tears prickling your eyes as the pressure spiraled too fast, too intense.
“Yes—yes, I’m gonna—Chan, please don’t stop—”
He didn’t.
He gripped your hips tighter, fucking into you like a man starved, like if he didn’t leave you soaked and marked and full, he’d lose his goddamn mind.
And when he felt you start to break—your body locking up, thighs clenching, back arching—he leaned down, mouth hot against your ear.
“Cum for me. Right now. I wanna feel this pretty pussy own my cock.”
And you did.
You came hard—a full-body quake, your mouth open in a scream that barely left your throat. Your pussy spasmed around him, soaking him, wetness gushing and dripping down your thighs as you clung to him like an anchor, like if he stopped fucking you through it, you’d shatter.
“Oh my god, Chan—”
That pushed him over.
His hips stuttered once, twice, then slammed in deep—so deep it knocked the air from your lungs. He groaned your name like a prayer and then he was spilling into you, hot ropes of cum filling your walls, thick and heavy and endless.
He stayed buried, cock twitching with every pulse, body pressed flush to yours as he let out breathless, broken curses against your throat.
You were still clenching around him, even as you came down—milking him, keeping him there, wanting every last drop.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice ragged. “You’re mine now. You have to be.”
He rutted once more, slower, like he was sealing it—like his cum inside you was the final signature on a contract neither of you had ever spoken aloud.
And then it was just breath.
Sweaty, shaking, soaked in each other’s scent and sounds and come.
You didn’t move.
Couldn’t.
He stayed on top of you, chest rising and falling against yours, cock still buried inside you as your walls gave one last soft flutter around his length.
Then, finally, slowly… he pulled back just enough to look at you.
Eyes blown out, hair damp, lips swollen and parted like he was still catching up to what just happened.
“We just fucked,” he said, quiet. Raw. “Like… really fucked.”
You swallowed, eyes meeting his.
“And I don’t regret a second of it.”
⸻
You both lay there in silence.
His cock still nestled deep inside you, softening slowly, your walls still fluttering from the aftershocks. Your thighs twitched involuntarily every few seconds, and you swore you could still feel the pulse of his orgasm echoing through your core.
The room was quiet except for the muted sounds of the porn still playing on the laptop—long forgotten, the screen pushed to the side, flickering over tangled sheets and sweat-slick skin.
Chan’s head dropped to your shoulder, breath still ragged, his arms folded tightly around your waist like he couldn’t let go. Like if he did, this would all slip away. Like you might vanish from under him.
Neither of you said anything at first.
You were both too stunned, too caught between what the fuck did we just do and why the fuck did it feel that good.
And still… neither of you moved.
His cum was leaking out of you in slow, sticky drips, smearing down your thighs, onto his skin. You could feel every drop.
You could feel him.
“Holy shit…” Chan finally muttered into your neck, his voice hoarse and heavy. “Did we just…?”
You let out a soft, breathless laugh.
“I mean…” you looked down at where your bodies were still joined, his softening cock resting deep inside your still-sensitive cunt. “Unless this is an elaborate wet dream, yeah.”
He groaned, not pulling away. Just pressing closer.
“I didn’t mean to,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to go that far. It just—fuck, it just happened.”
You nodded slowly, one hand running through the sweat-damp curls at the back of his neck.
“I know. Me too. I didn’t think. I just… felt.”
He exhaled hard, nose buried in your collarbone. “You were so fucking wet,” he admitted, his voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “And the way you moaned for me… I lost it.”
Your cheeks flushed, but your fingers didn’t stop stroking his hair.
“And you didn’t even stop when I grabbed your cock,” you whispered with a wry little smile.
“Because it felt too good,” he shot back, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “You touching me like that—while I was already so deep in it—I didn’t stand a fucking chance.”
You stared at each other.
Everything was different now.
Your lips parted, like maybe you were going to say we should talk about this, or maybe we fucked up, or this changes everything—
But all you could manage was a soft, breathless whisper:
“…I still don’t want you to pull out yet.”
Something flickered behind Chan’s eyes.
Possessiveness.
Longing.
Maybe even a little relief.
He leaned in, nose brushing yours, voice low and full of something deeper than either of you had ever dared touch before.
“Then I won’t.”
You sighed, stretching out underneath him, his body blanketing yours completely. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, and you could feel every slow, lazy twitch of his cock inside you—still hard enough to remind you it hadn’t been that long since you’d come, but not pressing for more just yet.
You both just… stayed.
He wasn’t ready to pull out, and you weren’t ready to let him.
It wasn’t even about the sex anymore. It was the feeling—the heat, the closeness, the shared secret now buzzing in the air around you.
You glanced up at him, smiling with flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “So,” you said softly, “are we still just friends?”
Chan snorted against your neck, arms squeezing around you like a reflex. “Oh yeah, super platonic. That was a very friendly load I just filled you with.”
You laughed, breathless, rolling your eyes as your hand traced lazy circles on his back.
“I mean, technically, we still haven’t properly kissed.”
His head popped up, eyes wide in mock offense. “I literally had your tits in my mouth. That counts for something.”
“Does it?” you teased, squeezing your legs around his waist a little tighter. “Because I could still walk away from this and say you never actually kissed me. Your tongue was a little busy elsewhere.”
“Wow,” he breathed, biting back a smile. “So this is what you’re like post-orgasm. Bratty.”
“You like it,” you said simply, and Chan’s answering grin told you that, yeah, he really did.
The warmth between your thighs started to spread again. You could feel how soaked you were, his cum slowly leaking around where you were still joined. Your cunt fluttered gently around him again, and you both groaned.
“Fuck,” he whispered, “you’re still so wet. You’re gonna ruin me.”
“Already did,” you whispered back, brushing his curls off his forehead.
Then, reluctantly, he started to move—pulling out so slowly it made you gasp. The sound of him slipping from you was filthy, and you clenched instinctively at the loss.
A sticky trail followed him down your thighs, warm and messy.
Chan stared for a second, lips parting, then let out a low, appreciative sound. “God, look at that,” he murmured. “That’s mine.”
You swatted him, but it was weak. You were already boneless under him.
“Alright, possessive boy,” you giggled, “I’m officially leaking. If you don’t get me to a bathroom, I’m gonna make your sheets look like a Jackson Pollock painting.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, but he was smiling as he slipped an arm under your back and another under your knees. “You’re ridiculous.”
And then?
He lifted you.
Just scooped you up like you were his, holding you against his chest like you weighed nothing. You yelped and clung to him instinctively, arms wrapping around his shoulders.
“I could’ve walked,” you mumbled into his neck.
“But then I wouldn’t get to carry you like this,” he said, voice low and smug. “And I like this.”
You didn’t argue.
You just let him take you to the bathroom, the warmth of him soaking into your skin, the air between you no longer buzzing with just tension—but something softer. More dangerous. More real.
When he set you down on the counter, he kissed your forehead.
Then your cheek.
Then your jaw.
And as he turned on the water, fingers reaching for the soft body wash he knew you liked, he asked in a voice barely above a whisper:
Authors note: This has to be my best Chan work yet 😍 girl i wept while writing this and i’m not talking about the one from my eyes lmaoo!
I might do a part 2 if this fic does well, so of you like it, make sure to reblog and drop a like and if you want a part two then drop it in the comments! ❤️
I saw a couple of my moots do this and wanted to do the same , so that if you have requested something you know I’m working on it (I know I’ve taken awhile lovely anons but I promise I’m trying 💔) and also just so yall can see what’s coming up !!
!! Disclaimer !! These aren’t in order so they could come out before or after they are listed.
I deleted a few a requests before making this because I’ve seen other writers do them and I don’t want to take away their work !!
Also I know my request titles are based off of songs however this doesn’t mean they’re based off the said song, I just can’t think of titles for shit so I pick a song that best matches the theme of the fic !! Enjoy <33
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