SYNOPSIS. Chan has had a massive crush on you since the day he first saw you. He never thought he’d have a chance with you, since you were so obviously out of his league. But it turns out life has a way of writing the right things with crooked lines.
PARING. Lee Chan x F!Reader
GENRE | TAGS. Oneshot, non idol!au, comedy, fluff, pinning, down bad!chan, acquaintances to lovers, smut.
WC. 20k (sorry)
RATING. Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI).
WARNINGS. Explicit language, alcohol consumption, allusion to use of weed, mentions of cheating, Chan is down bad to the point he is doubting himself, reader has an unspoken noona kink, switch!chan, switch!reader, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), fingering, face sitting, pussy eating, cum eating, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie, small hit of voyeurism.
AN. Officially my first Chan fic and I’m SO happy I finally get to post it... hope you love it as much as I loved writing it! Also, since I forgot to say it earlier: this whole fic is based on End Up Here by 5SOS.
🎧 SOUNDTRACK. end up here – 5 seconds of summer; i would – one direction; obviously – mcfly; loverboy – a-wall; best friend – rex orange county; espresso – sabrina carpenter; out of my limit – 5 seconds of summer; shup and dance – walk the moon; heart out – the 1975; intoxicated – the cab; wait – dino.
He knew the exact moment you walked into the apartment. At this point, it was as if he had a sixth sense for your presence, a Y/N sense, if he had to name it.
Not that it was hard to tell when you did, since every face in the room turned the moment you walked in. Most people already knew who you were, and those who didn’t? Well, their expressions made it very clear: they were dying to find out.
There was this energy about you that demanded attention, even when you weren’t trying. It wasn’t just the way you carried yourself—though that certainly played a part—it was the way people gravitated toward you, their eyes lingering, their conversations subtly shifting as if they were waiting for you to say something, to do something.
And he, well, he had always been attuned to it. To you. Even before he truly understood why.
Tonight, when you walked through the doors of his apartment looking absolutely breathtaking, Chan felt his head spin. It could have been the ten shots of tequila he’d been forced to drink after losing some random game against Yeonjun a couple of minutes ago, but he knew it wasn’t.
That was simply the effect you’d had on him since the day he first laid eyes on you during orientation day, two years ago. You had been in charge of welcoming the freshmen to their dorm building, and when you smiled at him like he was the most important guy there, he was a goner.
Of course, he knew you were probably just doing your job as a sophomore, but still, your smile had been stuck in his mind ever since.
“Pathetic,” he heard Seungkwan’s voice, followed by a slap on the back of his head.
Chan barely flinched, too busy pressed against the wall watching you every move as you wave through the crowded room like you owned the place. For him, in a way, you did. You weren’t loud about it, didn’t strut around making a scene, but there was an undeniable pull to you, one that made people shift to make space, one that had them leaning in, hoping for even a sliver of your attention.
And him? He was no better than the rest of them.
He tore his gaze away just long enough to shoot Seungkwan — who was looking at him like he was the saddest excuse for a man to ever exist — a glare. Vernon was right beside him, looking high enough to be in another dimension, and yet, was still wearing the same expression as the eldest of the three.
“What?”
Seungkwan sighed dramatically, crossing his arms. “You look like a lovesick puppy. Again.”
It was no secret to anyone that Lee Chan had a huge, enormous and gigantic crush on you. If he was being honest, by this point, it was a surprise you didn’t know—which he had some doubts—, since he wasn’t exactly very skilled at hiding it.
Not that he was openly hitting on you whenever he had the chance, because that was far from his reality. Very far, really. He had never done so and whenever he had a chance to be near you or participate in the same conversation as you, he would turn just as red as the lipstick you were wearing tonight, not to mention the stuttering he didn’t even know he had.
It was a mess. He was a mess.
Not that he would admit that to Seungkwan, anyway.
Chan scoffed, forcing himself to straighten up. “I do not look like a lovesick puppy.”
Seungkwan snorted. “Yeah, and I’m a backing vocal for Beyoncé.”
“You do,” Vernon stated, deadpanned. “Mingi just asked me if you were okay because, and I quote, ‘Chan looks like he just got hit by a truck.’”
Yeah, he was that obvious.
He watched as Seungkwan tilted his head to the side, nudging him with his elbow. “Chan-ah, are you seriously gonna spend the rest of your college years pining after this girl?”
His face flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration tugging at him. Chan opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Because what was he supposed to say? That he wasn’t pining? That he wasn’t completely, utterly, hopelessly gone for you? Even he wasn’t delusional enough to deny it.
Seungkwan, apparently sensing his internal struggle, let out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s what I thought.”
Chan scowled, lifting his drink to his lips only to hide his face and Vernon chuckled, clearly enjoying the way his younger friend was unraveling under the pressure of their teasing.
“Just go talk to her,” he said, voice slow and lazy. “She doesn’t bite, dude.”
“Easy for you to say,” Chan muttered, his eyes flickering back to you, who were now chatting with your friends in the corner. “She’s your friend.”
Oh yeah, there was also this little detail: you were Vernon’s classmate.
Not only were you both seniors, you were also majoring in the same program, meaning you shared the vast majority of your classes. Chan knew you were in the same study group and that you were paired up for most of the projects, which had led to a friendship that he very much envied.
You might think that having a mutual friend would make things easier for him, but you’d be completely wrong. Soon he discovered that Vernon wasn’t willing to help. Not because he didn’t believe Chan had a chance with you, but because he insisted that Chan should grow a pair and talk to you himself.
Which of course, he had already shown incapability of doing so thousands of times.
Seungkwan clicked his tongue. “You really are pathetic.”
“Hyung—” Chan groaned.
“I mean, come on,” his eldest friend cut him off, trying to finish his point. “You can deadlift three plates but you can’t say one sentence to a girl you like?”
Chan glared at him again. “That is not the same thing.”
“Yeah, one requires actual effort,” Vernon added, scoffing.
By now, he was used to all the teasing from his friends. It didn’t keep him from wanting to strangle them any less though.
Either way, there wasn’t much he could do. It wasn’t just about the amount of courage he had or how much effort he put into it; crushing on you for the last two years had felt like playing a game he was destined to lose. Even though in the deepest desires of his mind he was your boyfriend, that role was already filled by someone much older than him.
A Marine dude, apparently. His name? Chan didn’t care.
Not only was he the luckiest dude on the planet by having you as his girl, he was also tall, strong and a walking definition of everything Chan wasn’t: confident, assertive, and the complete opposite of the shy mess he’d been around you since day one. He would probably kill Chan if he could peek into his brain and see all the dreams he had about you over the years.
The guy also irritated the fuck out of him. Something about his attitude, his hundred tattoos, the fact that he was probably three times his height and the way he marked his territory by walking you to every class, every day. Like, damn, dude, we get it, she’s yours. At least let the rest of us appreciate the divine gift the universe sent us by looking at her.
Every time Chan saw him, he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of the competition. The worst part? You didn’t seem happy with him and everyone knew it. And even though it was clear from every word and every look that you were completely unaware of Chan’s feelings, the thought of you with someone else — someone like him — made his insides twist in ways he didn’t know he could feel.
“She has a boyfriend,” Chan finally said, feeling the bitter taste on the tip of his tongue as he did.
“So?” Seungkwan arched an eyebrow. “I don’t see him here. Do you?”
He directed his last question to Vernon, who just shrugged and shook his head. “Nope.”
Chan swallowed hard, eyes darting toward you again. Sure enough, there was no sign of your boyfriend. Not that he was about to get his hopes up. He had enough self-awareness to know he was probably just grasping at straws, because even if he never existed at all, Chan still wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to walk up to you.
“Look, man,” Seungkwan stared again, breaking through his dark thoughts. “You’ve gotta stop comparing yourself to him. You’re Lee Chan. You have a million things going for you, and besides…” He paused for effect. “You’re way better looking.”
“Thanks for the support,” Chan replied dryly, rolling his eyes.
“Seriously, dude,” Vernon chimed in. “You’re smart, funny, and way more likable than that guy. You just need to show her that.”
Chan sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “It's not that simple, guys.”
“It is that simple,” Seungkwan shot back. “You’re making it complicated.”
Before Chan could argue, the music shifted, the bass thrumming through the floorboards, and a new wave of partygoers stumbled in, laughing and chattering loudly. His attention snapped back to you, just in time to see you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your lips curling into a soft smile at something one of your friends said. The sight alone made his pulse quicken.
Then, as if you could feel his eyes on you, your gaze flickered up and locked onto his.
He froze.
It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t just a glance that skimmed over the room, landing on him by chance. No, this was intentional. You looked at him like you had known he was there all along, like you’d expected to find him in that exact spot, leaning against the wall with a drink in hand and his friends at his side.
And then, as if to send him straight into cardiac arrest, your lips — marked by the most beautiful shade of red he had ever seen — curved into a smile.
For a split second, it felt like the entire world blurred, muffled voices fading into static. Your eyes lingered, holding his in a way that sent a rush of heat down his spine. Then—just as quickly as it happened—, you turned back to your friends, your fingers wrapping around the red cup in your hand and leaving him to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.
He was sure he had just checked off a box on the list of clichés where the lovestruck fool forgets how to breathe. His fingers tightened around the cup in his hand, his heartbeat hammering so loudly he was certain Seungkwan and Vernon could hear it.
Chan looked away just a second before he heard, “She’s coming over,” announced Vernon, and for once, his voice didn’t sound amused. It sounded almost surprised.
He blinked, breaking free from whatever trance he had fallen into. “What?”
Seungkwan’s hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him once. “She. Is. Coming. Over.”
He barely had a second to react before you started making your way through the crowd, weaving between bodies with practiced ease, heading straight toward them. The air in the room seemed to thicken with every step you took in his direction, and though he told himself to stay cool, to not let it show, he knew the battle was already lost. His grip tightened, his pulse a frantic rhythm beneath his skin.
Seungkwan shifted beside him. “Oh, this is gonna be good,” he muttered, half under his breath.
“Act normal,” he whispered to himself. Or at least he thought so.
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Vernon mumbled.
Chan shot him a glare, but before he could tell his friend to shut the hell up, you were there, standing right in front of him, close enough that he caught the faint scent of your perfume, something so sweet and heady that made his head spin.
“Hello, boys,” you greeted them, your voice light but with a touch of something so soft and delicate that made his breath catch.
Trying to play it cool, Chan swallowed hard as he forced himself to meet your gaze. Up close, you were even more mesmerizing, your eyes alight with something he couldn’t quite place, the corners of your lips curving into the kind of smile that made his stomach flip.
“Hey,” he managed to say collectively with the other two, his voice steadier than he felt.
Beside him, Seungkwan looked like he was barely restraining himself from narrating the entire interaction like he was watching some kind of reality TV show on Netflix: Lee Chan’s Inferno, the live show.
Your eyes flickered between the three of them briefly before settling back on Chan.
“Nice party,” you said, flashing them a smile as you nodded towards the crowd of people scattered around their apartment. “Full house, I’ve been told.”
It was the first party the three of them had thrown since Vernon and Seungkwan became seniors and he a junior. They hadn’t expected it to be a great success, but judging by the number of people in their apartment right at that moment, it seemed they had been wrong.
“Thanks,” they chorused in perfect unison. You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows in curiosity.
“Are you guys okay? What are you drinking?” He knew you weren’t just talking to him, but Chan was pretty sure his soul was leaving his body slowly but surely. “I know for a fact Hansol is just as high as Namsan Tower.”
It wasn’t just that you were standing in front of him, looking every bit like you walked straight out of his dream, it was the way you were looking at him. Like you were actually interested in what he had to say, like he wasn’t just another person in this house, and like you weren’t effortlessly stealing the air from his lungs.
Meanwhile, his brain? Completely fried.
Your laugh—soft, amused and way too pretty—sent something dangerously warm through his chest. You tilted your head to the side, as if you were analyzing his face.
“What’s your name?”
His world seemed to stop for a second.
Even though the two of you weren’t close, or even friends, he was sure you knew his name. I mean, Vernon was one of his best friends. You were Vernon’s friend. You knew his name… right?
This was the worst possible scenario. The girl he had a crush on bigger than the entire Asian continent didn’t know his name? Yeah. The ground could open up and swallow him whole right now, and he wouldn’t even fight it.
This couldn’t be happening.
“You don’t know my name?” He didn’t even know he could finish a whole sentence around you, let alone a question, his voice somehow steady despite the absolute horror pooling in his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Seungkwan and Vernon exchanging a surprised and amused look, definitely holding back laughter.
“Oh, I know your name, Channie.” Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. “Just making sure you're still sober enough to remember it.”
Chan felt his face heat up instantly, a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over him all at once, brain barely registering the sweet way you said his name. Seungkwan outright cackled, slapping his knee, while Vernon just shook his head with a knowing smirk.
“Oh.” Was all Chan managed to say at first, his brain short-circuiting at the way you looked at him, teasing, confident, completely in control of the situation. “Chan. Lee Chan.”
You tilted your head, clearly enjoying his reaction. “Good.”
Suddenly, Chan was painfully aware of how close you were. Close enough that he could count the faint shimmer of highlight on your cheekbone, see the way your lashes fluttered when your gaze briefly flickered down to his mouth? No. He had to be imagining that. Maybe he had had a little too much tequila. Maybe it was time to put his cup down, go to his bedroom and sleep.
He blinked. Then, realized he had been silent for far too long.
“I—uh—” he started, then immediately hated himself for it. He could already feel the tips of his ears getting hot from how red they possibly were.
“He’s fine,” Seungkwan answered for him. “We’re all fine.”
You just smiled again, that knowing, unreadable smile that sent Chan’s pulse into overdrive. “If you say so.”
Vernon cleared his throat. “So, uh…” he was clearly trying to fill the awkward silence that Chan had created. “Are you having fun?”
“I just got here, actually,” you said, taking a slow sip from your cup. They already knew that, yet they nodded anyway. “But everyone else seems to be having a lot of fun.”
The four of you glanced around the packed apartment, noting also the constant flow of guests coming and going through the front door. Some faces were familiar to Chan, ones he had seen somewhere on campus, while others were completely new. The living room was almost unrecognizable with the couch pushed aside to make room for a dance floor. A mini bar had been set up in one corner with beer and even more booze filled the kitchen for those who wanted specific things.
Everywhere he looked, people were jumping, grinding, kissing, chatting animatedly, smoking and drinking, while plastic cups littered the floor alongside crushed cigarette butts, joints, and scattered snacks trampled underfoot. Chan was so absorbed in your presence that he didn’t even think about the mess he’d eventually have to clean up after the party was over.
The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat and perfume, and honestly, Chan was surprised none of the neighbors had called the police yet. Sure, the homecoming parties that were happening around campus this time of year were always packed, but this one was on another level, and he felt very proud of it.
The music thumped steadily, neon lights casting shifting colors over the crowd. Then Seungkwan threw out another question for you, so casually that Chan almost missed his intention. “Did you come alone?”
“Well, I came with Nayoung and Dahyun,” you replied, shrugging. “But I lost them somewhere by coming here to talk to you guys.”
Seungkwan shot Chan a look—one that screamed don’t mess this up—before turning back to you with a knowing smile. “Ah, so you chose to be here with us instead of running off to find them?”
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “I guess I did.”
Chan, who had been determinedly sipping his drink to avoid making a fool of himself, nearly choked. His mind latched onto your words like they meant something far deeper than casual conversation.
Seungkwan smirked. “Makes sense. We’re a great company.”
You grinned. “Exactly.”
“So your boyfriend’s…” Vernon trailed off.
“Not here.”
The words slipped out of your mouth like a subtle declaration, and just like that, Chan felt the weight of it. Your boyfriend wasn’t here. For some reason, the confirmation made him feel a little lighter, though he knew that was dangerous territory.
He had no right to feel relieved. You weren’t his, after all.
Seungkwan raised his eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “Really? No boyfriend? That’s new.”
You shrugged nonchalantly, unfazed by his teasing tone. “He’s busy with something, I guess.”
You glanced down briefly, scratching behind your ear before your eyes flicked over to Chan again, catching his gaze for a fraction of a second before he quickly looked away, embarrassed by the sudden spike in his heartbeat.
“Ohhh,” Seungkwan dragged out, exchanging another look with Vernon. “So you’re free to enjoy the night however you want.”
You let out a hum, tilting your head slightly as if considering his words. “I suppose so.”
Chan took another sip of his drink, trying to play it cool once again, but his grip was a little too tight around the cup. His mind was running a mile per minute, filled with thoughts he probably shouldn’t be having.
“You seem awfully interested in that drink.” You pointed to his cup, raising a curious eyebrow and shifting your weight to one leg, one hand resting on your hip. “What are you drinking?”
Chan glanced down at the red cup in his hand like he’d never seen it before. In truth, he had no idea what was in it, he’d grabbed it off the counter earlier when someone shoved it at him, too distracted by your presence to care.
“Uh…” He swirled the liquid inside, like that would magically tell him what it was. “Something… alcoholic?”
Seungkwan groaned beside him. “Wow. Smooth.”
You chuckled, the corner of your lips quirking up. “That’s very specific, Channie.”
Chan nearly choked. The way you said his name so casually, so effortlessly, made his brain short-circuit again.
Everything he wished for — right after you, of course — was that he had scientific explanations for the way his body and brain reacted to your actions and words. And even then, maybe it wouldn’t be enough for him.
I mean, Chan was a popular guy. A lot of people knew him around the campus. Hell, he was the current best dancer on the program since Xu Minghao had graduated, packing the school theater every time he performed, and he also wasn’t exactly unknown among girls; he wasn’t particularly proud of it, but he had a reputation.
So why was it that, whenever he was around you, he acted like a complete loser?
It was a case to be studied closely and for days, perhaps years.
Seungkwan, probably sensing that Chan was never going to get a full sentence out at this rate, answered for him. “Tequila. Too much tequila. Yeonjun was bullying him a little.”
At the mention of Yeonjun, you hummed in amusement, your lips pressing together like you were holding back a laugh. Then, without warning, you reached forward and plucked the cup from his hands, bringing it to your lips for a sip. You pulled a slight face at the taste, but to Chan’s absolute horror (and delight), you took another small sip before handing the cup back to him.
“Sounds about right,” you mused, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb. “And how’s that going for you?”
Chan blinked.
“Oh, you know…” he forced out, voice slightly rougher than intended, “just trying to stay upright.”
It was a miracle. He had managed to form a coherent sentence.
You laughed, and Chan felt like he had just been hit with a wave of relief. The sound was like music to his ears. “Well, that’s an important skill to have.”
Seungkwan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like pathetic, but Chan was too busy trying to figure out if you were just being nice or if there was something more behind your words.
“So…” you mused, drawing out the word as if weighing it in your mind. “You having fun?”
Fun. Right. That was why he was here. “Uh. Yeah. It’s a party, so… yeah.”
You raised an eyebrow. “That convincing, huh?”
Chan cleared his throat, trying to wrest away the heat creeping up his neck. “I mean, yeah. I’m having fun.” He nodded a little too enthusiastically as if trying to convince both of you.
You just hummed, unconvinced, tilting your head just slightly. The way your eyes scanned his face sent his brain into overdrive. Was he being obvious? Did you know?
But before he could embarrass himself further, the speakers erupted with the unmistakable intro of Livin’ On A Prayer by Bon Jovi, and the entire room burst into excited screams. Just like you, who threw your head back and let out a moan of happiness.
Chan was certain he felt his entire body shiver at the sound, his mind drifting to places it definitely shouldn’t. He was pretty sure he was already halfway to living on a prayer.
“I love this song,” you said, eyes lighting up and a smile so radiant it nearly knocked him off his feet.
Two seconds later, and before any of them could say anything, Dahyun called your name from across the room. “Come dance with us.”
You turned your head slightly, offering her a small nod of acknowledgment before looking back at them.
“I have to go.” You pointed with your thumb over your shoulder at your friend like they haven’t seen her there, shattering Chan’s dream of spending more than ten minutes near you. “See you guys around.”
His heart sank a little at your departure, the moment slipping away faster than he could grasp it. He opened his mouth, almost as if to protest, but the words never made it past his lips. He was still fumbling, unsure of what to say or do in this kind of situation.
But then you gave him one last smile—quick, but enough to leave him breathless—and started to turn away. You took a few steps forward, then stopped, turning around and staring directly at him; not at him, Vernon and Seungkwan, just him.
“I love your shirt, by the way.”
And just like that, you were gone, moving through the crowd again, leaving him standing there with his heart pounding and his mind reeling, staring in astonishment at the Kurt Cobain shirt he was wearing.
Seungkwan snorted beside him, pulling him out of his daze. “You’re hopeless.”
Chan, still staring after you, muttered, “I know.”
You had disappeared from the party half an hour ago, using the excuse of heading to the bathroom, only to end up on the balcony of one of the bedrooms with an unlocked door.
To be honest, you weren’t really in the mood for partying tonight, but after Nayoung and Dahyun insisted so much on getting you out of your room, despite your repeated insistence that you weren’t affected at all by the recent events in your life, you eventually agreed to join them.
So far, it had been a lot of fun; you’d danced with your friends, played beer pong and pool with people you didn’t even know and a couple of people you did know. But when everyone decided it was time to start a game of seven minutes in heaven, you knew it was time to get away, especially since the only person you wanted to kiss wasn’t in the circle and was clearly avoiding you, as he always did.
That person was currently somewhere in the living room, probably laughing at something his friends said, or even kissing someone in the coat closet, completely unaware of how much space he took up in your thoughts.
With a sigh, you sat down at the railing, the cool night air a relief against your flushed skin. The music from the party thumped through the walls, muffled but still loud enough to remind you of the chaos inside. You were fine with missing the game, better than sitting there, pretending you wouldn’t feel a pang of jealousy if someone else pulled his name.
That last one, of course, was a scenario you created in your own head where he decided to show up and play just because the universe hated you that much.
You weren’t even sure when it had started, this thing. The way your eyes always searched for him in a crowd, the way your heart did that stupid little skip whenever he smiled at you, especially at times when he didn't seem to realize he was smiling. Maybe it had always been there, waiting for the right moment to make itself known and now was the perfect opportunity for it, considering all circumstances.
Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the door creak open behind you until the warmth of another presence filled the space.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
It was nearly two in the morning when Chan finally decided he’d had enough of the party. You had disappeared a while ago to God-knows-where, and even though your friends were still in the living room playing seven minutes in heaven, he was pretty sure you’d gone home without them. Your boyfriend had probably swung by to pick you up at some point—like he always did—and Chan miraculously hadn't noticed.
All night long, he had watched you from afar, dancing and playing games with his friends. You were laughing with Vernon, teasing Seungkwan, and even giving Yeonjun a hard time. You looked completely at ease, like you belonged there somehow. But every time his gaze lingered on you, he felt that familiar twist in his stomach. It wasn’t jealousy, exactly, but the kind of longing that made his chest tighten in a way that hurt.
You were surrounded by his friends, sure, but in his mind, you were still just very much out of reach.
Now, Chan was exhausted, tired of feeling like a failure for not having the courage to approach you, even just to start a conversation. He hadn’t taken Vernon’s advice, hadn’t shown you how much better he could be than your boyfriend. So, instead of dwelling on it any longer, he simply said goodbye to everyone and headed to his bedroom.
After cursing himself for forgetting to lock the door, Chan headed inside, silently thanking the universe that no one was there. Everything was in place, neat and undisturbed, clearly showing it hadn’t been used as a place for a couple to make out, or worse. After finally locking the door behind him, he sat on the edge of the bed, calmly taking off his shoes as he recapped the night in his head.
He sighed, lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Seungkwan was right: this was getting pathetic, really. He had talked to people all night, joked around, even had a decent time despite the chaos around the apartment. But when it came to you, his heart always raced in a way that made him second-guess every single move.
He was such a big fool.
A fool for you, apparently.
For a brief moment, Chan watched as the long curtains that divided the room from the balcony swayed in the wind, revealing a figure sitting on the railing.
When the fabric shifted again, his breath caught in his throat. It was unmistakably you perched on the balcony railing with your legs dangling over the edge, one hand resting casually against your knee. Even under the dim glow from the city lights below, he knew that silhouette by heart. He didn’t know how long you had been out there, but seeing you, calm and distant and seemingly lost in thought, entirely unaware of him, rooted him to the spot.
He hesitated. Again.
The cool night air slipped into the room, sweeping the curtains aside and making them billow like they were inviting him forward. For a brief moment, Chan considered staying put, convincing himself that you probably just needed some space, some quiet time away from the party. But the thought of you sitting out there by yourself pulled at him, tightening something deep in his chest. It felt like the universe was placing a second chance right in front of him, daring him not to waste it this time.
Before he could overthink, before doubt could drag him back down, Chan pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room toward the balcony.
He reached the balcony door quietly, not wanting to startle you. The breeze hit his face as he stepped outside, the sound of music and laughter from the party still faintly echoing in the distance. Chan took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, but it was hard when you were so close, when all it took was one glance to unravel him completely.
You looked like an angel sitting there, and his brain nearly short-circuited when he noticed you were wearing the hoodie he had left on the chair earlier that day.
Chan never really liked people invading his space — especially his room — and even less so when they were uninvited. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have kicked them out on the spot. But this was you. Not only did it not bother him, but he found himself loving the sight of you in his clothes.
“I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
You turned your head at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise at his appearance. “Chan?”
The way your voice sounded when you said his name — disbelieving — made it seem like you were the one wondering if he was real, not the other way around. And he couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Hey,” Chan managed to say, words just loud enough to be heard over the distant music. “Are you alright?”
You nodded, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Just needed a break. Parties aren’t really my thing.”
Chan hesitated for a beat before leaning against the railing beside you. His posture was a little stiff, like even though it was his bedroom, he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to be there, intruding on your moment alone. Yet, somehow, your presence made him and the space feel calmer.
“I get it,” he said quietly, his gaze shifting down to the street below. “I kind of feel the same way sometimes. All the noise, all the people, it’s a lot.”
You chuckled softly, turning slightly toward him. “You? A dance major?”
He really wanted to use this opportunity with you to make a good impression and follow his friends’ advice. But when he looked at you again, his brain went into a tailspin trying to process the way his hoodie looked on you, as if they’d been made for you just as much as for him.
Still, Chan forced himself to get the words out.
“Yeah. Well, dancing is… different,” he admitted, glancing at you with a small, almost sheepish smile. “It’s loud, sure, but it makes sense, you know? It’s the kind of noise I can control.”
You hummed in understanding, swinging your legs slightly. “And parties?”
“Not so much.”
A comfortable silence settled between you, the distant music from the party below blending with the rustling trees. The longer Chan stood beside you, the more his nerves settled, though that didn’t stop his heart from hammering in his chest. He had spent so long watching you from a distance, convinced that any moment spent too close would give him away. And yet here you were, wrapped in his hoodie, on his bedroom balcony, as if you belonged there.
Chan opened his mouth, but nothing came out, as usual. He was already surprised that he had managed to form other sentences before, since his brain was still trying to catch up with everything that’s happening.
God, you were standing in his bedroom—his bedroom—at two in the morning.
He couldn’t help but wonder if you had any idea what you did to him with just a small action.
You shifted a bit, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, the breeze tugging at your hair while you analyzed his well-defined profile.
You’d known Chan and his friends long enough to recognize their signature chaos. They moved like a unit, very loud, unfiltered, and unapologetically themselves. Each one matching and amplifying the other’s quirks without a single trace of embarrassment. It was refreshing. Maybe that was why you liked being around them so much; they weren’t like the typical guys you met on this campus.
Every now and then, you’d end up hanging out with one of them. Sometimes it was Vernon, your friend, your classmate, basically unavoidable. Other times it was Seungkwan, who somehow knew everyone and always drifted into whatever group you were in.
Lee Chan, however, was the one you barely ever heard speak. You could never tell if he was always that quiet… or if he just became that way around you. You suspected it was the last one.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” The question left you in a light tone, trying to keep the mood casual, though there was an underlying curiosity in your voice.
Chan laughed under his breath, running a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed but still amused by it. He scrambled for words, anything to not look like a complete idiot. “I—uh. No, I mean, I do. Sometimes. I talk.”
Brilliant! Just brilliant.
For someone who was usually a yapper, he had become an expert at being at a loss for words around you. Before this moment, Chan hoped you wouldn’t notice, but your question showed him that was clearly not the case.
Your lips twitched, like you were trying not to laugh. But it wasn’t in a cruel way, not like you were laughing at him. “That’s good to know,” you replied, nodding like you were filing the information away for later.
He couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips, even with the awkwardness hanging in the air. Only this time, it wasn’t heavy. You didn’t make him feel self-conscious. If anything, you made him feel noticed, and something about that sent a slow warmth spreading through him.
“I promise I can carry a conversation most of the time,” he defended himself, shoulders lifting in a small shrug, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Just… not always the best at small talk.”
You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Small talk is overrated anyway.”
Silence settled between you, strangely comfortable. From where you stood, the cheers of the crowd faded into the background with each new pair being chosen, distant enough to feel like the two of you were sealed off from the rest of the world. Right here, it was just you and him, standing at the edge of something Chan couldn’t quite name.
He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing the concrete railing as he debated whether he should say more, whether he should push this moment just a little further or not, since you seemed to be enjoying your own company until a few minutes ago, even if it was in his room.
The only thing he didn’t want to do was let it slip away.
So instead, he asked the question that had been circling in his mind the moment he spotted you through the curtains. “So, uh… how did you find my room?”
Chan watched as you suddenly froze, eyes widening as his question sank in. Your gaze followed his, tracing down to the hoodie hanging loosely on your frame, and the realization hit you. A soft laugh slipped past your lips and it sent his pulse straight into overdrive.
“Oh shit.” You blinked rapidly, the disbelief written all over your face. You seemed to realize the absurdity of the situation at the exact same moment the words slipped past your lips, your gaze flickering between him and the hoodie. “Wait, no—” you rushed out, clearly flustered. “I wasn’t snooping or anything, I swear. I didn’t even realize this was your room. I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t come in here to—”
“You just… what?” he asked, the words slipping out before he could catch them.
He was still trying to process all of it. you, standing in front of him, frustration and embarrassment coloring your face, and wearing his hoodie of all things — did he stress that enough?
Chan had spent the entire night convinced he’d already ruined every chance he might’ve had with you, and now here you were, undoing every conclusion he’d drawn.
You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. There was no way this could be less embarrassing. “I was looking for a quiet place to hide from the whole seven minutes in heaven thing. I found an unlocked door, thought it was an empty guest room, and uh… turns out, it wasn’t.”
He stared at you, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “And the hoodie?”
A sheepish smile tugged at your lips. “It was on the chair. It was cold. Thought it looked comfy.”
It was comfy. But that wasn’t the point.
He swallowed, trying not to let the warmth spreading through his chest take over his whole body. This—you—was the last thing he expected tonight. And yet, here you were, standing in his room at two in the morning, looking impossibly good in his clothes. Maybe the universe was on his side after all.
You stayed seated there, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you should stay or go. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, but for the first time all night, Chan didn’t feel like running away.
Instead, he exhaled, leaning back as he met your gaze. “Well,” he murmured, forcing a small smirk. “It looks better on you anyway.”
He had no idea where this sudden courage was coming from. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in his system, even though hours had passed since his last drink. Maybe it was the cool night air. Whatever it was, he was just glad he had found the nerve to flirt with you. Even if just a little bit.
Your lips twitched, and for a second, he thought you might say something. But then you just shook your head, voice quieter now, almost shy. “I’m sorry for invading your space. Do you want me to leave?”
Chan swallowed hard. He knew what the right answer was. Knew what Vernon and Seungkwan would tell him to do. Knew that you still had a boyfriend. But with you standing there, wearing his clothes, looking at him like that. Yeah. He was completely screwed.
“No, stay,” he blurted out, a little too eagerly. Then, realizing how desperate he must’ve sounded, he cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “I mean… if you want to.”
You tilted your head, watching him in that way that made his stomach flip. “You sure?”
Chan let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. Still, he wanted to make sure. “Yeah. Unless you want to go back?”
You glanced toward the door, as if weighing your options, before exhaling a small laugh. “Not really.”
He tried not to read too much into it. He tried not to let the fact that you were still standing there, apparently in no rush to leave, get to his head. “Then stay,” he said again, softer this time.
You held his gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering in your eyes.
“Okay,” you said at last. Then your lips curved into a teasing smile. “But only if I get to keep the hoodie.”
Chan huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. Like he could ever say no to you. “Fine. You can keep it.”
You grinned. “Thanks, Chan.”
“I mean… I might have to fight you for it later.”
“Oh, I’d win,” you shot back without hesitation, a smug little smirk playing at your lips.
And god, Chan believed you. Because you would only need to say the words and that hoodie would be yours forever.
There was a comfortable silence between you after that again, just the weight of the night settling in. The distant cheers from downstairs had died down a little, and the music had shifted to something slower, more subdued. It felt like the whole world had softened around the edges just for you and him.
You tilted your head slightly, studying him, studying him like you were trying to figure out a puzzle, and Chan felt his pulse jump all over again. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so nervous. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself or the way your eyes were holding an amused curiosity whenever you looked at him.
Or maybe — just maybe — it was simpler than that. Maybe it was because he wanted to be on the receiving end of the softness you reserved for your boyfriend.
At the thought of him, Chan’s expression faltered slightly, and he turned away, gripping the railing a little tighter than necessary. He had no right to feel the way he did, no right to want things he couldn’t have. But he was here now, alone with you in the quiet of the night, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that things were different.
Chan turned to you again, watching as you stared out at the horizon now. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he spoke next, but the words left his mouth before he could stop them. “So where’s your boyfriend?”
If you were surprised by the question, you didn’t let it show. He saw you lowering your head and letting out a not very happy laugh through your nose.
The truth was, you were surprised by his question, but at the same time, you weren’t. Jongin wasn’t exactly known for being non-territorial; he was always where you were, and when he couldn’t be, he made sure to show up at some point. But the way Chan’s question slipped out so easily, so curious, paralyzed all your instincts—the ones that told you to take it slow, to breathe between the end of your relationship with Jongin and the leap you were considering to take when you agreed to come here tonight.
And then, the confession slipped out of your lips before your brain could stop it. “He’s...not my boyfriend anymore.”
Chan’s eyes widened slightly at your words. His stomach churned with an uncomfortable mix of relief and confusion, and he blinked a few times, processing your words.
Would he go to hell for feeling immensely happy with that confession you had just made? Probably. And he would slow dance with the devil, grinning from ear to ear nonetheless.
“Not your boyfriend anymore?” he repeated after you. “Why not?”
You shrugged, a casual motion that didn’t match the weight of your words, finally looking up to meet his gaze again. “Didn’t want to be, I guess.”
That was only half true, and you knew it. It wasn’t like you wanted to be his girlfriend either. But still, you weren’t the one who ended things by cheating on him with his step sister. You’d probably still be with him if he hadn’t decided to put an end to it in the worst way possible, even if your heart was beating for someone completely different already.
Was it weird that you felt relieved to be cheated on, because it finally gave you a reason to leave?
“Then he’s an idiot,” Chan muttered with no hesitation. Like it was a fact, not a judgment.
When you looked at him, his eyes were filled with genuine empathy. You smiled gratefully, appreciating his compassion. Not wanting to weigh the moment, you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, that makes two of us.”
Chan frowned slightly. “I doubt it,” he said, before adding, “But why?”
You shrugged again. “It wasn’t like I was dying to stay in that relationship, you know.”
The way you said it, almost too calmly, threw him off. I mean, he knew you weren’t very happy in your relationship; it was evident in your body language around Jongin. But he didn’t expect it to go as far as you wishing you weren’t actually in it.
He wanted to ask more, to understand what had happened, but a part of him feared that prying would make him sound even more pathetic. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing on, his voice low and a little uncertain. “Wait, so you didn’t want to be with him either?”
You didn’t hesitate, your expression not betraying any emotion, but your voice was a little more sharper when you replied. “Not really. I didn’t even like him in the end. I guess I just stayed longer than I should have because it was… comfortable.”
“That doesn’t sound like a great reason to stay.”
Chan bit his lip, trying to digest your words. Part of him wanted to reach out, to comfort you somehow, but he didn’t know where to start. The realization that you were no longer with him, the guy who seemed to have always been in the picture, stirred something in him, like a sense of hope he wasn’t prepared to feel tonight. But he kept it buried, not wanting to come off too eager, too quick to assume.
“It wasn’t,” you admitted. “But it’s hard to walk away from something when you don’t have a reason big enough to leave.”
“And what finally made you leave? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“You’re funny.” You smiled, head tilted to the side as you locked gazes with him. “I’ve never really got to actually talk to you before. Yet, here we are,” you gestured to the space between you with your hands. “I like this side of you. Curious and talkative Chan.”
“Yeah?”
He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, even though a smile tugged at his lips. He was happy that being alone with you had finally awakened that side of him: more talkative, made him braver, lighter, more him.
You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I do.” Then you sighed, before saying, “To answer your question: he cheated on me with my step sister.”
His eyes widened and suddenly he was back to not knowing what to say, so he stayed quiet for a moment.
Chan’s brain raced, his heart pounding. Was it bad that the idea of you being available—of there being a chance for something, whatever it might be—be the only thing that appeared in flashing neon signs in his head?
Either way, he was glad you had gotten out of a relationship that clearly wasn’t good for you. He was happy that you had gotten rid of the asshole who was known for only dating girls ten years younger than him, the asshole who never let you breathe.
“Why did you date him anyway? Guy’s a jerk.” The words escaped his mouth before he could even control them.
“He gave me just the right amount of attention, at the right time,” you answered without hesitation, shrugging again. “Have you ever heard ‘We accept the love we think we deserve’?”
Chan frowned, processing your words. Well, that was sad. The way you spoke about it, almost like you were talking about a lesson learned the hard way, made him feel a pang of sympathy for you.
“I’ve heard of it,” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” you continued, eyes searching his face. “I didn't realize I deserved more until the moment I woke up from the trance I’d been stuck in for two years.”
Listening to you confess to him all of this without thinking twice and sounding so sincere, made his stomach twisted with something like a mixture of frustration and admiration. He could see how hard it must’ve been for you, but at the same time, something in him wanted to protect you, to offer the kind of attention and care that wasn’t half-hearted, something real and full of understanding.
Something you truly deserved.
“You do deserve more,” he finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Everyone does. And if you want it, you can have it. No one should make you feel like you don’t.”
Chan hoped you understood the undertone of his words. Though he was genuine in what he said, he wanted to be everything you deserved—the more you could and should have. God knew how much he wanted it, and how far he would go to show you that. But in that moment, he also wanted to offer words of comfort, to be the shoulder you might need.
You didn’t say anything for a while, just standing there, letting the noise of the party hum around you both. Finally, you exhaled.
“It’s hard to let go of what you’ve known, even when it’s not good for you,” you admitted, almost like you were talking to yourself more than him. “But sometimes, I guess you need to make space for something better, even if it’s scary.”
His heart beat faster at your words. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew one thing: this conversation, this moment between you, felt different than anything he had experienced with you before.
“Do you think…” he started, and then stopped, unsure of what to ask. He was afraid that anything he said might ruin the moment.
“Maybe,” you murmured quietly, though your voice didn’t waver, eyes locked on his. “Maybe I need to stop accepting what I think I deserve and start going after what I actually deserve.”
Chan swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The air between you felt charged now, heavier than it should have been. He felt as if he were teetering on the brink of something, something he was not afraid to jump into and also couldn’t stop himself from wanting, hoping you wished the same, even if he was too crazy or delusional to consider that possibility.
Just as he was about to say something, he suddenly felt light raindrops hitting the spot where the two of you were standing on the balcony. The first few drops were light, barely noticeable, but within seconds, the drizzle grew heavier, the scent of rain taking over the air.
Chan watched you look up, your eyes tracing the sky as it darkened, the city below shimmering through the mist. When you turned back to him, he was staring at you, not at the rain, not at the sky, but at you. You met his gaze, and for a split second, everything else faded; the sound of the rain, the distant hum of the city below, even the pounding of his own heart.
He blinked, breaking the spell, his gaze flickering toward the curtain of rain before inevitably returning to you. “Maybe we should go inside,” he suggested, the hesitance in his voice sounding less like uncertainty and more like an offering. Chan was trying to give you an escape, if you wanted it.
You nodded slowly, and without saying a word, you jumped off the balcony railing, following him inside. You looked around the dark room for a second, before saying, “Maybe I should go. I don't want to hold the party host down with me.”
Chan turned to face you, his eyes softening as he took in your words. There was something about the way you spoke, in the tiny pause, the quiet wobble of your voice, that made him want to step closer, to reassure you that you weren’t an inconvenience. If anything, you were the one person he wanted there, more than anything, more than anyone.
“You’re not holding anyone down,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “If anything, it’s me who should be worried about keeping you from having fun.”
“Never,” you replied, sounding casual, though something in your voice slipped past his understanding. Particularly when you added, “Besides, the person I wanted to kiss isn't even downstairs.”
He stopped dead in his tracks, his heart giving a sharp, startled kick. At this point, a heart attack felt like a valid possibility. He blinked, not quite sure if he had heard you correctly, but the way your gaze held his, steady and unflinching, told him that he hadn’t misheard.
Chan cleared his throat, his voice coming out a little too thick for his liking. “Oh? And, uh… who exactly were you hoping to kiss, if not...?” He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer.
As the curtain moved in the wind, bringing the streetlight into the room, he saw a mischievous smile grow on your lips.
What the hell was happening? Was his brain betraying him? Was he imagining this moment? Had he passed out on the bed when he went to his bedroom and was now in a dream, after spending ninety percent of his energy thinking about you at the party he should have been enjoying with his friends?
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you answered, and turned your back to him, eyes immediately darting to the shelf of his trophies from dance competitions and photographs.
Yes, I do! I want to know! Chan wanted to shout, but contained himself.
Instead, he stood there for a moment, unsure whether to follow up with another question, or to let the silence stretch on. The way you spoke, so casually and yet with that playful glint in your eye, made everything feel… electric.
So he simply watched you there, in his room, moving without hesitation, slowly walking over to his shelf, running your finger along the wood and observing each one of his trophies, medals and pictures with meticulous care.
He couldn’t help but think—and wish too—that he could get used to this scene.
The golden plaques gleamed under the dim light, each one marking a victory of his. Some were polished to perfection, while others bore the faintest scratches, proof of the years Chan had spent chasing dreams in the dance field. Your gaze drifted to the framed photographs beside them, each snapshot telling a different story of his life.
There were several photos of him as a little kid, beaming as ever, dressed in performance clothes, on stage, with a medal around his neck. In another, he stood beside his previous performance group, whom you recognized as Kwon Soonyoung, Wen Junhui, and Xu Minghao, their grins wide and carefree. There were also photos with his parents and grandmother, and some with what looked like his younger brother.
Chan was probably the cutest kid you had ever seen, and that realization made you smile genuinely.
“Lee Jung Chan?” you read aloud, curiosity threading through your voice as your eyes went back to his children’s dance trophies. Your fingers brushed over the small golden plaque, the engraving slightly worn from time.
Behind you, he let out a soft chuckle. “It’s my name on my family tree. The government name is just Lee Chan.”
“You went by your full name back then?”
He shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Only because my mom insisted. She said it sounded more professional, like I was already a star or something.”
“It’s cute,” you remarked, throwing him a look over your shoulder. “You were so cute.”
“Yes, well, the kids used to call me Jimmy Neutron.”
You laughed, turning fully to face him. Neither of you had noticed how close you were until you did. If you reached out your arms, you’d only be able to touch each other slightly. But even though both of you thought about it, neither of you made any move to change your positions, continuing your conversation.
“What? Jimmy Neutron?”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair as if reliving the embarrassment. “Yeah. They said my head was too big for my body. And, you know, the spiky hair didn’t help.”
You bit your lip, trying to suppress another laugh. Chan holded his breath at your movement, forcing himself to look elsewhere, forcing himself not to think about your lips or else his blood would rush south.
“I can totally see it now,” you teased, releasing your lip from your teeth and looking between him and the photo on the shelf.
He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Wow, okay. I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am!” You held up your hands in defense. “I just think it’s adorable. And look at you now. You certainly grew into it beautifully.”
Chan smirked, tilting his head and crossing his arms. “So you're saying I look beautiful now?”
You rolled your eyes, turning back to the trophies. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Jimmy Neutron.”
He laughed, stepping up beside you as his eyes skimmed over the shelf briefly, before turning back to you. “Yeah, but I kinda see it. My head was huge.”
You tilted your head, studying one of the photos of him mid-dance, his tiny frame caught in motion. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and black fingerless gloves, hair is slightly messy and spiky, adding to the fun and carefree to his edgy look. His bright smile revealed a gap between his teeth, and you thought to yourself that you’ve probably never seen anything so lovely before.
“Well, I think you were adorable,” you said under your breath, your finger tracing the edge of the frame. “And talented, obviously. All these trophies…”
He shrugged, a little bashful. “My grandmother was really proud of them. She used to polish them every weekend.”
Your smile softened. “She sounds sweet.”
“She is,” he replied, voice tinged with fondness. “She used to call me ‘our little star.’”
Something about the way Chan said it made warmth bloom in your chest. You turned toward him, and he was looking at you again, his expression unreadable but undeniably intense. The streetlights made his features look even more defined, shadows deepening along his strong jawline.
If there was one thing you knew about Lee Chan, it was that he was a star. Every performance he was part of filled the university theater, without failure. Not to mention the countless admirers he had on campus, and with good reason.
Watching him do what he loved was a pleasure simply because he was that good. Confident and unwavering, he dominated the stage effortlessly, as if wrapped in a bubble no one could pierce. It was mesmerizing to witness.
“You still are, you know,” you said gently. “A star.”
His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Just studied you like he was trying to figure something out. Finally, a small, shy smile tugged at his lips. “I think I prefer when you call me cute.”
“Duly noted.”
Chan exhaled a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the desk beside the shelf. “You know, I don’t usually let people snoop around my room like this.”
You glanced at him over your shoulder again, your fingers still lightly tracing over the edge of a picture framed. “Oh? Am I special, Channie?”
You didn’t need to say his name that way, or shape the word with your lips like that. His eyes dipped to your mouth, and a flicker crossed his expression. His eyes met yours.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, you are.”
To mask the fact that your breath hitched slightly, you offered him a playful smirk. “Good to know.”
As Chan moved to sit on the edge of his bed, you continued the exploration of his shelf, eyes stopping at a picture frame in the middle where he was standing between what seemed to be his parents, both of them kissing his cheek sweetly.
“Is your father a dancer too?” you asked, running your fingers over his face on the picture.
“Yeah. My dad and my mom,” he explained. “They kind of stopped after I was born.”
“Wow. It’s in your blood, then.”
Chan nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. My dad always says I got his footwork, but my mom says I got her rhythm.”
You leaned against the table by the shelf, watching him as he spoke. “So they gave it up for you?”
He paused, considering, then nodded. “Yeah. My dad started teaching instead, and my mom focused on raising me. They never made me feel like I took anything away from them, though.”
“That’s love.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Another comfortable silence settled between you as you turned back to the photos, your fingers absently tracing the edges of the other frames. One photo in particular caught your eye. It was from the exact same day you first noticed him, during the university’s annual arts week in your sophomore year.
He was dressed in a white button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, black dress pants, and his hair dyed a faded dark blue. You knew he had worn a tie too because he had taken it off during the performance.
Out of the four members in the unit, he immediately stood out to you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but it was as if no one else existed on that stage besides him. Your eyes were locked on him and no one else, watching in awe as he moved across the stage, completely captivated.
“I was there that day, you know?” you pointed out, showing him over the shoulder the photo you were referring to.
Chan’s eyes widened as he stared at it. It was one of the images from his first big performance at the university’s annual arts week back in his freshman year, a moment that had felt like a turning point for him, when everything had clicked. He hadn’t realized anyone had been paying attention back then, least of all you.
“You were?” His voice held a note of surprise. There was something so disarming about the way you were looking at the photo, and then at him.
You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze before turning back. “Yeah. I was in the back, by the side stage,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You were… mesmerizing.”
He felt a warmth spread through him at your words. Chan hadn’t expected to hear something like that, especially not from you.
“Really?” He couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. His brows lifted slightly, as if he was trying to picture it. “How come I didn’t see you?”
“I don’t think you noticed anyone that night,” you teased. “You were in your own world up there.”
He hummed, eyes flickering back to the photo. “Maybe,” he mused, then glanced at you again, a slow smile crept onto his lips. “So, you’ve been watching me all this time, noona?”
There was a teasing edge to his voice and you exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“No?” He titled his head. “Then how would you put it?”
He saw you hesitate for a second, fingers still resting on the shelf. Then, meeting his eyes, you admitted, “I noticed you. That night, and every time after that.”
Chan felt his breath catch in his throat.
There was something about the way you said it—so simple, so honest—that made his heart stutter.
You noticed him.
Not just that night, but every time after.
He had spent years analyzing every interaction you two had ever had. Every glance, every small word, every time you did so much as acknowledged his existence. And now? Now you were standing here, saying things that made his heart race like it was the easiest thing to do.
How did he end up here?
Chan felt lightheaded.
He wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t rare for him to be speechless around you, so there he was again, standing in front of you, feeling like the floor beneath him wasn’t quite solid anymore.
“You noticed me,” he echoed, more to himself than to you.
You nodded, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of the photo before you finally pulled your hand away. “Yeah,” you confirmed, laughing softly. “I did, Channie.”
Chan swallowed. Hard. He wanted to ask why. What was it about him that had caught your attention? Was it his performance? His presence? Something else entirely different?
But instead, he found himself saying, “I wish I’d noticed you in the crowd.”
Your lips parted slightly, but instead of speaking, you simply smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
His fingers twitched at his sides. God, he wished he could go back in time to that night so he could scan every face in the crowd to find you standing by the side stage, maybe watching him with that same look you had now. You weren’t even dating Jongin at the time, and if your words were any indication of what he was imagining, maybe he had missed an opportunity by acting as though you were unattainable. Maybe he had lost precious time.
Chan watched as moved away from the shelf, turning to him entirely. His breath hitched slightly as you stepped closer, each movement deliberate, unhurried. You didn’t hesitate as you sank down beside him on the bed, the space between you shrinking just enough to make his pulse quicken.
The room suddenly felt smaller, quieter, like the world outside had dulled, leaving only the two of you in this charged silence.
He forced himself to breathe, to act natural, even as every fiber of his being buzzed with awareness of your presence beside him. You were close enough that he could catch the faintest trace of the sweetness of your perfume again, making his head spin in the best way.
His eyes stayed fixed on you as you pressed your hands into the mattress and stared at the wall ahead, as if you were deliberately avoiding his gaze for reasons he couldn’t name.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Mhmm.”
You wet your lips, a brief hesitation before finally voicing the thought that had lingered in your mind all night. “Were you avoiding me tonight?”
Chan felt his heart slam against his ribs. “I wasn’t—” he started, then stopped himself because, well… yeah, he had been avoiding you. But only because every time he looked at you, he felt like his brain melted, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to not make a fool of himself.
You smirked, clearly amused by his silence. The question seemed to be answered to you. “That’s what I thought.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t avoiding you, I just—” He paused, eyes lifting to the ceiling and then settling on you again. Halfway through, Chan decided that it was no longer the time to second guess things, so he simply admitted, “You make me very nervous, noona.”
You wished you had an explanation for the way you shivered slightly when he called you noona. But instead, you chose to ignore the feeling, letting the sensation fade into something softer, something more curious.
“I make you nervous?” you repeated, tilting your head slightly as your eyes widened. “That’s a first.”
Chan huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You say that like it’s impossible. I bet–I know I’m not the only one.”
You shrugged. “I don’t know… you’ve always seemed so confident. Especially on stage.”
“That is just an act,” he confessed. “On stage, I could pretend to be someone else for a little while. But you?” He turned to you. “You’re real. You’re right here.”
And he still couldn’t believe it, the words leaving his lips as if he were pinching himself to prove that this was really happening and not just a fever dream.
Hearing him, you wondered what Chan would think if he knew how your stomach was doing backflips because of the way he was looking at you like you were something impossible and unreal all at once.
You hadn’t expected this and most certainly didn't expect him to say something so… vulnerable. Something that made your heart race so fast with all the implications of his words.
“I didn’t mean to make you nervous, Channie,” you whispered, your voice softer now, sounding like you were trying to defend yourself. You had never looked so cute as you did now.
“I don’t think you can help it,” Chan tried to explain, letting out a breathless chuckle. “You know, you probably didn’t know this, but I had a, um… a crush on you.”
Okay, he knew he was straying from the truth. But there was a limit to his courage, and even though he had sensed a bit of flirting between you, he wasn’t about to risk rejection after the nice conversation you’d had tonight, because maybe he was just imagining things.
And he wanted you to walk away from here at least as friends rather than leave an awkward situation for the two of you. He’d rather have you like this than not have you at all. That was why he decided to test the waters with that small lie.
Your lips parted slightly at his confession, your mind racing to process what he had just admitted. “You… had a crush on me?” you repeated, almost like you were trying to make sure you’d heard him right.
Chan nodded, his expression somewhere between amused and nervous. “Yeah. A major one,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Something inside you fluttered at the thought. It seemed like every word that came out of Chan’s mouth was meant to surprise you, even if you didn’t believe he was doing it on purpose. You hadn’t expected this at all, not from him, least of all, not tonight.
“You’re bullshiting me, aren’t you?” you accused, narrowing your eyes playfully.
He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Nope. Dead serious.”
“But you never said anything!”
“Didn’t think you’d be interested.” He shrugged. Then he nudged you with his elbow, playfully. “Plus you had a boyfriend.”
You blinked at him, momentarily stunned into silence.
Didn’t think you’d be interested?
It was absurd to hear those words coming from him, the same person who had commanded every room he walked into without even trying, the same person who had owned the stage so effortlessly that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.
What would he say if you opened your mouth to confess that you’d realized you weren’t happy in your old relationship the moment you started noticing him everywhere? Noticing his smile, the way he blushed when you talked to him, the way he seemed so unreachable, like he wasn’t the least bit interested in getting to know you, always running away when you were around.
Maybe that should’ve been your first clue that he had a crush on you too. But perhaps you were too caught up in your own melancholia to notice.
So, instead of spilling out, you decided to test something. “Is it just in the past?”
Chan’s brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by your question. “What?”
“Your crush.”
“Uhh..”
“Because it would be so sad if it was” you said before you could stop yourself, eyes searching for his.
“Really?”
You let out a quiet breath, shaking your head with a small smile. “Mhmm.”
He swallowed hard, his brain short-circuiting at your response. Of all the ways this conversation could have gone, this was not what Chan had expected. Maybe he was in a dream. A very lived one, but still, a dream.
“You—” He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like he had forgotten how to speak. “You think it would be sad?”
You hummed. “Yeah. I think it would be a shame if something like that just… faded away.”
Chan's heart was doing something ridiculous in his chest, and he wasn't sure if it was panic or hope or a chaotic mix of both. He should say something. He should joke about it, keep it light, make sure this moment didn’t carry more weight than it should. But he couldn’t because the way you were looking at him right now felt dangerous.
“Would it?” he managed, clearing his throat in the process.
Your smile again, nodding.
He let out a breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really know how to mess with a guy’s head, huh?”
“Maybe,” You grinned, leaning in just a little. “But only when it’s fun. Besides who says you’re not messing with mine too?”
“I am?”
“Yes.”
You didn’t say anything else and Chan stared at you for a long moment, his mind racing with a million things he wanted to say, a million things he wanted to do. But instead, he smiled, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were real. That this moment was real.
He was messing with your head? That’s a first.
“Noted,” he simply murmured.
“What about now?” You looked at him expectantly, not letting silence settle between you.
Chan inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. “Now?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded once more. Chan’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second before he recovered. “Are you asking if I still have a crush on you, noona?”
You rolled your eyes, trying to mask the way your heart had started hammering. “Forget it,” you muttered, getting up from the bed.
He reached out, closing his hand around your wrist, and gently pulled you back to sit on the bed again. For a second, it felt like the world had stopped moving. It all faded into nothing. It was just you and him, standing there in this uncertain space that he used to call his bedroom.
Chan’s throat went dry, and he swallowed hard. His first instinct was to joke, to brush it off, to act nonchalant, as he always did. But the look in your eyes—quiet, expectant, tinged with something dangerously close to hope—left him no room to lie.
And before you could escape the moment, Chan leaned in ever so slightly, just enough that you felt the warmth of him beside you. “For the record,” he started, voice lower now, just for you. “Some things don’t change that easily.”
You turned to look at him, and for the first time that night, you weren’t sure who was more nervous: you or him.
You held his gaze for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile curled at the corners of your lips. “Good.”
Chan blinked. You were going to give him a whiplash.
“Good?”
You nodded, shifting just a little closer, the space between you growing small. “Like I said: it would be really sad if it had faded away.”
A few seconds passed, he just stared at you, his heart pounding, his pulse roaring in his ears. He could barely think, could barely breathe. “Are you messing with me?” he asked, a nervous chuckle slipping out.
“What do you think?” you asked, biting your lip, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re trouble.”
You grinned. “Only when it's fun, remember?”
“Noted.”
Chan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. This time, there was something different in his voice, something lighter, something hopeful.
You kept your lip under your teeth for a second, analyzing him carefully. For the first time, Chan didn’t feel intimidated by your gaze. He didn’t feel exposed. Quite the opposite, his skin felt like it was on fire, but for a very good reason.
Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a fraction of a second. If he hadn’t been watching you so closely, he would’ve missed it.
You were too close. Or maybe not close enough.
“Chan.”
“Yes, noona?”
“Do you wanna kiss me?”
He felt every neuron in his brain misfire at once, completely abandoning him at the worst possible moment.
Did he hear you right?
Did you—did you really just ask him that?
But the way you were looking at him—head bent to the side, eyes locked onto his with quiet amusement—made it clear that he hadn’t.
His fingers twitched against his knee, his pulse hammering in his ears so hard he was sure you could hear it. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Suddenly, every single response he could think of felt either too much or not enough.
He could feel the warmth radiating off of you, the way your gaze never left his, searching, waiting.
“Uh…” He cleared his throat again, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I—um—”
“Because you keep looking at me like you do,” you continued, “and if you don’t want to, that’s fine. But I just thought I’d ask.”
He was absolutely, utterly doomed.
He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Noona, you can’t just ask me that.”
“Why not?”
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Chan let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head.
You grinned. “Is that a yes or a no?”
You were still watching him, waiting, and damn it if he didn’t want to kiss you more than anything. He always had. But now? With you looking at him like that, teasing, testing, daring him? It was like he was malfunctioning.
Yeah, he was probably overthinking this. Hell, scratch that, he was definitely overthinking this. But the truth was, this wasn’t just some random moment to him, with a random person. It was you. And you weren’t just anybody to him.
He didn’t want to screw this up.
But at the same time…
God, he wanted to kiss you. More than he would like to see the sun rise again.
So, he took a breath, gathering every ounce of courage he had left, and finally, finally, he answered.
“Yes,” he admitted, voice quiet but steady. “I really, really want to kiss you.”
Your smile turned softer, less teasing now. “Then what are you waiting for?”
That’s all it took.
Chan closed the space between you, his hesitation melting away the second his lips brushed against yours. It was slow, tentative at first. He wanted to memorize the feeling of your lips, engrave it into his memory in case he never got the chance to do it again. But when you responded to him, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in just a little closer, something inside him snapped completely.
He exhaled sharply against your lips before deepening the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he tilted his head, molding himself to you like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life, and not just two years of it.
If the party outside still carried on, now it felt absolutely muted. The only thing that existed was your lips against his, the way they fit together, your fingers threading through his hair, the soft sound you let out when he nipped your bottom lip.
Chan was dizzy. Overwhelmed.
And completely, absolutely ruined for anyone else.
Your fingers dung into his tight, searching for support, and you felt him groan against your lips. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a reaction deep within you. His hand slipped from the back of your neck into your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he tilted your head to the side, and that was it. You were lost too.
When a soft gasp left your lips at the feeling of him pulling your hair slightly, Chan saw the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips, teasingly, deliberately, claiming the space with an intoxicating slowness. They way kissed you left you breathless, lightheaded, as if he’d stolen the very air from your lungs.
Your knees bumped against his as you tried to move closer, and instead of pulling away, Chan only tightened his grip on you, his arm slipping from your hair to your waist. In one smooth motion, he guided you into his lap, pulling you over his legs until you were straddling him.
A surprised giggle bubbled from your lips at the sudden shift, but he didn’t falter, if anything, the sound only seemed to spur him on. His hands settled firmly on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as if committing your shape to his memory.
One kiss bled into the next, and then another, and another, until the only force pulling you apart was the desperate need for air. Your forehead rested against his for a fleeting moment, both of you panting, neither willing to let go.
Then, with a boldness that sent heat surging through you, you leaned in, taking his bottom lip between yours, sucking gently as your hips rolled forward in an instinctive motion. A groan tore from both of you at the same time at the feeling of you core meeting his half hardened cock for the first time.
Chan’s head tipped back, his throat exposed to you, a silent invitation too tempting to ignore. You pressed an open-mouthed kiss just below his perfect jaw, feeling the way his pulse leapt beneath your lips. His hands traveled slowly and torturously from your hips to your thighs, hovering just above the hem of your skirt, while you traced your tongue over the skin of his neck, giving it a playful nip with your teeth.
His breath hitched at the feeling, gripping on your tights for dear life as his heart raced like crazy. The fire in his veins was undeniable, every inch of him consumed by you. Your touch, the way your lips moved, was driving him to the edge of something he wasn’t sure he could come back from.
As Chan looked at you, his eyes begging to close in pleasure, he was sure his pupils were dilated at the scene before him and the fact that you looked like a goddess on top of him.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispered, a rasp of desire that sent a thrill racing through you.
Your response to his words was to rock your hips against his, feeling his full hardness now pressing your folds through his pants and listening to him whine, breathy and desperate. At the sound of it, you couldn’t help but sink your teeth into his neck, sucking to ensure you left a mark, to ensure everyone saw what you had done to him.
Chan’s breath came in uneven, his body shuddering beneath you as your lips lingered over the mark you’d left on his skin. His hands tightened around your tights, fingers twitching like he was resisting the urge to take things further, to let his restraint unravel completely.
“Fuck,” Chan rasped, his head tilting forward until his forehead rested against yours, his eyes squeezed shut. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You hummed against him, dragging your lips up toward his ear, reveling in the way he shivered beneath you. “What do you want, Channie?” you teased, nipping at his earlobe.
Your hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips tracing along the defined ridges of his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, his hands now gripping your thighs like they were the only things keeping him grounded, like he was afraid you’d slip away.
His eyes fluttered open, dark and desperate as they locked onto yours.
“You,” he admitted, breathless, “I just want you.”
The raw honesty in his words sent another shiver down your spine. “Then take me, baby,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his jaw, the ghost of a challenge in your voice.
Chan groaned, his hands sliding up from your thighs, gripping your waist with a reverence that made your pulse stutter. His thumbs traced slow, teasing circles against your skin, his restraint evident in the way his fingers flexed but didn’t pull you closer.
“You really are on a mission to kill me, aren’t you?” he whispered, his breath deliciously warm against your lips.
You smirked, tilting your head just slightly, an exhalation away from his mouth. “What gave it away?”
He exhaled sharply, his patience snapping like a thread. One moment, you were teasing him, savoring the slow burn, and the next, he was kissing you like he’d been starving for you his entire life. His lips crashed against yours, desperate, all-consuming, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him.
The heat between you flared, intoxicating and undeniable. Your fingers slid up his chest, tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, breathy moan from his lips. The sound sent a thrill through you, your body pressing closer, chasing the feeling of him, the warmth of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that existed.
His hands roamed your body, slipping beneath your shirt, his touch searing against the bare skin of your inner thighs. He wasn’t rushing—no, he was savoring, mapping out every inch of you like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to memorize it, in case this was the last time he’d ever get to.
Your hips rolled instinctively again, pressing down against him, and Chan groaned into your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin. “Fuck,” he breathed, his head falling back as he sucked in a sharp breath.
You leaned in, pressing another set of kisses to the column of his throat. “Too much?” you teased, your voice sultry, full of mischief.
Chan’s jaw clenched as he let out a breathless chuckle. “Not even close.”
His hands traveled higher up your thighs, and the moment his index finger traced a slow line over the fabric of your already-soaked panties, a moan slipped from your lips into his. He grunted something unintelligible as he tugged your panties to the side, his fingers finally feeling how wet you were beneath them. Then, he dragged his touch torturously up to your stomach before slipping inside the lace, and you instinctively lifted your hips, giving him better access to where you needed him most.
“Are you this wet for me, noona?” he asked, pulling back to meet your gaze. Two of his fingers pushed inside you, while his thumb circled your most sensitive spot and you cried out. “Is this all because of me?”
You nodded desperately, almost missing the disbelief in his eyes that only fueled the intensity between you. It heighted every touch, made you move in sync with him, your teeth sinking into your lip as he worked you over with deliberate precision, taking his time to drive you absolutely crazy with his fingers moving into and out of you.
“I want you to sit on my face.” His voice didn’t waver; it was an order wrapped in certainty, his eyes darkened with something you’d never seen in him before, something you instantly craved. The sheer weight of it dragged a whimper from your lips.
Still, you can’t help but think about his safety.
“Are you sure?” The words slipped out on a shaky exhale, your breathing already unsteady.
Both of his hands returned to your thighs, slowly trailing up to your ass beneath your skirt.
“Never been more sure in my entire life. Please”
“Fuck. Okay.”
You got off him for a moment, quickly slipping off your boots as you stepped out of the bed. You pulled off your skirt and panties, while Chan got up to remove his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room. Then he returned to the bed, sitting comfortably and leaning back on his elbows, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes burned with desire as he watched you slowly take off his hoodie before taking your sweet time freeing your breasts from the tight black corset, clearly on purpose.
When your breasts finally spilled free, his mouth parted slightly, eyes locked onto your hardened nipples as if it were one of the seven wonders of the world.
“Come here, baby.”
You slowly crawled across the bed toward where he was lying close to the headboard, and Chan helped you position yourself on top of him. Each of your thighs settled on either side of his head as you both adjusted, ensuring the position was comfortable for both of you.
“You have the prettiest pussy,” he whispered against you, followed by a groan, and you felt his breath hit your entrance, making you tremble slightly.
You knew that you were so fucking wet that even in the dim light of the room, you were sure he could see your folds glistening. But instead of feeling embarrassed, a thrill ran through your body when you glanced down and saw Chan licking his lips, his eyes locked onto your core just inches from his face. He stared at you like you were the most delicious meal he was ever going to have in his life.
“You smell delicious, noona.” The way he spoke made you moan softly, your hands instinctively moving to squeeze your breasts. “Bet you taste even better.”
Chan gripped the back of your thighs, pulling you closer until your heat was right in front of his face, his eyes drinking in the sight. His lips found your inner thigh first, sucking a mark into your soft skin, slow and deliberate.
When he finally placed his lips exactly where you needed him, your hands flew straight to grip his hair, holding tightly between your fingers as your legs trembled from the indescribable sensation of his mouth on you. Still, Chan sensed that you were trying to hold back, worried about hurting him, so as soon as you shifted just an inch away from his face, he pushed you back down, holding you tight against him.
The gasp that left your lips was a sound you’d never made before, completely immersed in the pleasure he was giving you. His nose nudged against your clit, his tongue gathering your arousal before his mouth moved over you with deliberate hunger, like a man who had been starving for far too long.
“So good, Channie,” you cried out, body almost falling forward. “Holy fuck!”
The way Chan’s mouth moved on you was pure, unrestrained hunger, and it felt so good that, only for a moment, you entertained your brain with the idea that his mouth was made to do exactly what he was doing: eating your pussy. His lips cupped your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive bud with slow strokes, alternating with long, deep sucks that made you shiver around him.
His tongue circled your entrance, sliding in as more of your slick spilled into his mouth, all for him to savor. The taste of you—god, he never wanted this to end. All day, every day, Chan was sure he could do this for the rest of his fucking life. All he wanted was to drown himself in this, inside the wet dream that was you with your pussy right in his face.
Your hands pulled his hair tightly after one particularly harsh suck on your clit, back arching deliciously. Your moans were the only sound filling the room and Chan was pretty sure this was the soundtrack of paradise and he couldn’t wait to get there.
When his hands moved to your ass, squeezing tightly, it was as if the last shred of self-control in his body had evaporated. You started to rock your hips instinctively, grinding against his face desperately to chase your release while his nose offered you the most earth-shattering sensations.
“Oh my god, Chan,” you choked out, closing your eyes shut.
“Hmm.” His hum sent vibrations through your core and suddenly you had to use his shoulders for balance or you would have fallen forward on the bed.
Chan was certain he had died and gone to heaven the moment you started grinding against his face. He could feel your legs tense around his head, and when he opened his eyes to take in the scene above him—hands traveling up your body until they reached your breasts, squeezing them tightly—the way your face crumpled and the sounds escaping your parted lips, Chan knew he was in love.
He was done. Gone.
There was no one else for him in this world.
Only you.
You.
You.
You.
You bucked your hips against his face with more urgency as his thumbs rolled over your nipples in the most delicious way. His other hand found your neck, wrapping around it and squeezing lightly, and your head fell back, granting him free access to do whatever he wanted with you. At that moment, the familiar, intoxicating tingling built in the pit of your stomach, moans and sighs spilling from your lips more desperately and loud as you tightened your legs around his head.
“Hmm, suffocate me, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick and low.
That was all it took for your orgasm to crash over you in the most intense way, your mind bubbling with euphoria, completely lost in a haze of pleasure.
Chan licked and sucked up every last drop, swallowing your release in loud gulps as if it were the only thing capable of keeping him hydrated. As you let go of his shoulders and collapsed onto the bed beside him, your legs, weak as jelly, trembled uncontrollably, matching the shivers that ran through the rest of your body.
When you looked at him, you saw the dazed, blissed-out expression on his face mirroring your fucked-out one, like he were the one who had just come. His red lips were parted, his chin glistening, and you couldn’t resist the dopey smile on his face. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, tasting yourself on him. With a strength you didn’t even know you had, especially right now, you pulled him on top of you, parting your legs so he could fit there.
Chan barely had time to register the movement before letting out a small chuckle. He broke the kiss for a second, brushing your hair from your face to meet your eyes, your pupils blown wide with a desire that was reflecting his own.
He could only be dreaming.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips.
Normally, words like that spoken so close would have made you shy. But right now, you could feel his hard length—aching, neglected, and probably leaking—pressing against your inner thigh through the fabric of his pants.
Your hands traveled from his chest to his pants and you fumbled with his belt, struggling for a moment until your fingers remembered how to work. You unfastened his zipper, hands moving with growing urgency each passing second. As you pushed his pants down, your fingers traced the firm and defined lines of his abdomen, the sharp cut of his hips, and the soft hair on the back of his thighs.
The moment you managed to free him from his underwear, Chan’s cock rested on your hip, hard and thick. He groaned at the feeling of your skin against him and you arched into him, desperate to feel more, to press him even more against you, to take him in.
“Wanna ride you, Channie,” you told him, leaning forward to kiss him again. You reached between you, wrapping your fingers around his cock, feeling him thick and burning hot against your palm.
Chan let out a shaky breath at your words, his grip on your waist tightening instinctively. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours and your parted lips, as if trying to ground himself, trying to believe that this was actually his reality and not just another figment of his imagination.
“You don’t have to feel obligated, baby.”
“I want it.” You batted your pretty eyelashes at him, and he was lost. “Please.”
“Okay, noona.”
Your fingers brushed over his jaw, tilting his face up to meet your lips in another deep, searing kiss. Every part of you was incredibly drawn to him, turned on by him, the heat between you almost unbearable now. Slowly, deliberately, you rocked your hips forward, savoring the way his breath stuttered against your lips.
“You were driving me insane,” he groaned, his hands tightening their hold on you.
You smiled, feeling the way his pulse raced beneath your lips. “Good. Now lay back for me, baby.”
Chan didn’t argue. He shifted slightly, scooting back and patting his thighs in invitation for you to hover over his cock. The dim light cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the curve of your back and the way your hair fell around your shoulders. He watched you, his breath catching in his throat as you met his gaze. He lay back and propped himself up on his elbows again, anticipation thrumming through his veins.
You moved with a slow, deliberate grace, straddling him once again, your bare pussy covering his length. The feeling of his cock against your lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you also felt him trembling a little beneath you.
You paused, savoring his gaze locked on you. His eyes were filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. Smiling down at him, you slid your pussy against his cock, feeling his head rub on your clit. A simultaneous moan escaped from both of you. The next second, his lips were on your breasts, sucking and squeezing the flesh with both hands, clearly impressed by how responsive and sensitive you were to his touch.
After a particularly harsh suck, he released your nipple with an audible pop, the sound echoing in the still-charged air. A smile spread across his face as he watched the flush recede from your skin, leaving a rosy imprint in its wake.
“Beautiful.” He licked your nipple one more time, gaze locked on yours, as he said, “There’s a condom on the nightstand.”
He didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive.
“Didn’t you wanna take me raw, Channie?” You pouted, sliding forward again. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.”
He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat working as he fought for control. Your words, so casually spoken, were a potent aphrodisiac, fueling the fire that already burned within him. The feel of you against him, the heat radiating from your core, was intoxicating, clouding his judgment, making it hard to think straight.
The thought of skin on skin, of being completely, utterly connected to you, was a temptation he wasn’t sure he could resist. His gaze drifted up to your lips, then lower, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the way your hips moved against his. He could feel himself hardening even more, his body betraying his attempts at restraint.
“Fuck, noona,” He breathed. “Don’t say shit like that.”
“So?” you purred, meeting his gaze.
“I’m clean too. Put it in. Please.” The words were a raw plea, a confession of his surrender.
Another soft moan escaped you as you took his cock in your hand, lining him up with your entrance. You lowered yourself onto him inch by inch. The way he fit inside you felt achingly right, as if your bodies had been carved for each other.
Chan groaned as you took his full length in, his hands instinctively reaching for your waist, holding you tight against him. He looked up at you, his eyes darkening with passion, while you pushed him just a little to lay down so you could use his chest for support.
“Fuck,” he cursed out, griping your sides. “You feel so good.”
You began to move, slowly at first, teasing him with each gentle sway of your hips. The rhythm between you built, a slow, sensual dance that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your bodies. Chan’s hands tightened on your waist, guiding you, encouraging you, as he moaned softly, his head falling back against the pillows.
“Yeah, baby,” he groaned, voice rough. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.” He arched his back, pushing himself further into you. His hands moved from your waist to your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he urged you on. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
Another slow smile spread across your face. The power you held over him was intoxicating to you, maybe even a little dangerous to your ego. You leaned down, brushing your lips against his. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
You increased the tempo, your hips moving with a newfound urgency of driving him to the edge. The rhythm between you grew harder, more intense, driven by pure need.
You knew you were already close, that the precipice of orgasm was just within reach. The feeling was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely. Chan’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the tension building within him too, the pressure mounting with each thrust.
You continued to move, faster now, your bodies locked together in a frenzy of desire. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of him inside you, the heat, the overwhelming pleasure. You were lost in the moment, consumed by the fire that burned between you.
A low moan escaped your lips as he pressed against you, his fingers tracing tight circles around your most sensitive spot.
“Fuck, Chan,” you screamed, your head falling back, eyes closing as the pressure began to feel exquisite.
He peppered kisses across your chest and neck, his touch alternating between quick pinches and slow, tantalizing rolls of his thumb against your clit. Without warning, his hips surged upwards, driving him deeper inside you. You cried out his name again, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“That's it, baby,” he commanded, “scream my name.”
One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you against him, while the other braced him against the mattress. He began to thrust into you, a relentless rhythm that belied the fact that you were supposed to be the one in control. But neither of you cared. His cock felt so incredibly good inside you, your pussy clenching around him in a tight embrace.
“Chan!”
The head of his cock found that sweet spot deep within you, and he immediately noticed your reaction, repeating the movement, again and again, until stars began to burst behind your closed eyelids.
The more Chan rhythmically rubbed your clit, the more you felt yourself tightening around him, your release imminent. His breath hitched as you reached your peak, your body shuddering with release. He cried out your name, his own release following close behind as spilled himself inside you. You collapsed against him, your bodies still trembling, your hearts pounding in unison.
The world dissolved around you, the only thing that existed was the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible, lost in a sea of pure, unadulterated pleasure. His arms wrapped around you comfortingly, as if he were afraid you’d run away, and you buried your face in his neck, trying to regulate your breathing and savoring the aftershocks, the incredible feeling of your skin melded together.
Still buried inside you, Chan could hardly believe any of this was real. The reality of you, of this, was almost too much to comprehend. He felt the warmth of you surrounding him, the gentle pulse of your muscles contracting around him, a constant reminder of the incredible intimacy you shared. He looked down at you, your face flushed and relaxed, your eyes closed in contentment.
He traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb, marveling at the softness of your skin. It was real. You were real. And you were here, with him, wrapped in the aftermath of a moment that had left both of you breathless.
Chan wanted to stay like this forever, locked in this perfect intimacy, lost in the wonder of you. And he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he would do anything to keep it.
He brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, before confessing, “I wanted this for so long.”
Your eyelids fluttered open, and you met his eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Mmm,” you hummed, snuggling closer to him. “Me too.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face, and Chan blinked. “Really?”
Certainly, he hadn’t expected that. He thought he was the only one clinging to this moment, the only one so deeply affected by it, that he was certain he was thoroughly gone for anyone else. The fact that you felt the same way, that you’d wanted this just as much as he had, sent a fresh wave of warmth through him.
You nodded, your smile widening. “Really, really,” you confirmed, fingers tracing the line of his beautiful jaw. “I’ve been wanting this… for longer than I care to admit.”
He felt a blush creeping up his neck, a mixture of pleasure and disbelief swirling within him.
“Wow,” he breathed. “I...I didn’t think…”
“Didn’t think what?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.
He hesitated, suddenly feeling shy again. “Didn’t think you felt the same way. I thought… I thought you were just a little bit out of my limit, I guess.”
Looking away for a moment, Chan suddenly felt fascinated by a stray thread on the sheet. Saying that out loud sounded ridiculous, he knew. Seungkwan and Vernon would probably laugh at him if they could hear him now. He was a grown ass man; a successful dancer, yet he felt like a nervous teenager confessing his feelings for the first time to the girl he had a silly little crush on.
Except it was no longer silly for him anymore, and he was sure the feeling burning in his chest was much bigger than a crush. Love? He preferred to think about it after the effects of the afterglow had worn off.
His mind was filled with something else. For instance, the fact that, once, he’d been so sure you were out of his reach, so convinced that he was lucky just to be in your orbit. To know that you felt the same way, that you saw him as an equal, was both exhilarating and terrifying.
You gently cupped his face in your hands, turning his gaze back to yours. “Out of your limit?” you echoed. “Channie, I’m so in your limit that is actually embarrassing. I’ve always been in your limit.”
He raised an eyebrow, another flicker of disbelief in his eyes. “Always?”
“From the moment I saw you on that stage, two years ago,” you confessed. “I saw something in you, something special. Something… that made me want to get to know you better.”
Chan chuckled, a self-deprecating sound. “And you weren’t scared off by my… awkwardness around you?”
You laughed, a warm, genuine sound that filled the room. “Your awkwardness is part of your charm,” you teased. “Besides,” you added, leaning in to whisper against his lips, “I can be pretty awkward myself sometimes.”
He grinned, his earlier shyness melting away. “Is that so?”
You nodded, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Absolutely. But you’ll have to stick around to find out just how awkward I can be.”
He chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “I think,” he said, his voice laced with affection. “I’m willing to take that risk.” Then he paused, a shadow crossing his face briefly. “Can I ask you something, tough?”
“Mhmm.”
“Jongin. Why… why did you date him?”
You sighed a hint of weariness in your eyes. You should have seen it coming.
“Honestly?” you began, “Because at the time, I didn’t think you were interested too.” You met his gaze, your eyes filled with honesty. “Like I said earlier, he showed me the kind of attention I thought I needed. He was… persistent. And you,” you paused, choosing your words carefully, “you seemed… distant. You ran away whenever I tried to talk to you. At least now I know why.”
He winced slightly, recognizing the truth in your words. He’d been so afraid of rejection that he’d inadvertently pushed you away. “I… I was an idiot.”
You smiled sadly. “We both were,” you shrugged. “But,” you added, a brighter note entering your voice, “we’re not idiots anymore.” You leaned in, kissing him softly. “And now,” you gave him another peck, “I have exactly what I want.”
Chan cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “Me too.” He pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you.”
“For what?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.
“For giving me a second chance.”
You pulled back slightly, searching for his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, baby,” you said softly, with a teasing smile playing on your lips. “You just came inside me, I think you earned it.”
A slow grin spread across his face, a mixture of amusement and pure adoration. His eyebrows raised suggestively.
“Oh, is that how it works?” he teased, his eyes sparkling. “So, every time I…you know…”
You laughed, playfully shoving him in the chest.
“Don’t get any ideas, Jimmy Neutron,” you said, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed your words. “I’m a tough negotiator. You’ll have to work a lot harder than that to earn my gratitude.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m a very hard worker. And, I’m more than happy to put in the overtime for you.”
“We’ll see about that,” you whispered against his lips, though the smile playing on your face suggested you were more than willing to let him try. “You’re incredible, Lee Chan. Don’t ever forget that.”
He smiled, his heart overflowing with love. “I won’t,” he promised. “Not anymore.”
Not even seconds before he fully opened his eyes, Chan already had a smile on his face.
His arm instinctively reached for you, only to find you already curled against him, leg thrown over his, your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your hand sprawled across his bare chest like it had always belonged there. His shirt — the one you’d stolen off the floor around 3 a.m — was hanging loosely on your body, oversized, and entirely too intimate. Your soft breath tickled his chest, and he couldn’t help but smile wilder, fingers lazily tracing circles on your bare shoulder.
He loved that sight. Your sight. It felt like a livid dream.
Except he knew this wasn’t a dream because last night replayed in his mind on repeat. Every whispered word, every touch, every breathless plea. He had thought about it for so long, imagined it in so many ways and scenarios. Yet, nothing compared to the reality of holding you now.
Morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains, bathing the room—and you—in a soft golden glow. Chan swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful than you in that moment: peaceful, warm, and completely wrapped up in him. His heart swelled as he took in the way your lashes fluttered slightly, the way your fingers still clutched at his arm like you never wanted to let him go.
God, only if you knew.
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, tightening his arm around your for a bit. You only stirred slightly, nuzzling closer to him with a soft sigh. Chan chuckled under his breath, his hand running down your back soothingly. He wanted to stay like this forever, stay with you here forever. But he also wanted you to feel welcomed in his house, to make you never want to leave.
So carefully, Chan slid out from under you, heart pounding as he sat at the edge of the bed. You curled into the warm spot he left behind, sighing softly like his scent comforted you. He had to bury his face in his hand to keep from screaming into them.
With a quick look around his room — the clothes on the floor, shoes scattered as if they had been thrown off their feet, the hoodie you’d worn discarded on his desk chair — and exhaled a shaky, lovesick breath.
Yeah, he was a total lovesick puppy, and honestly? He didn’t mind admitting it one bit.
Taking just one more look at you sleeping in his bed, dressed in his clothes, looking very much like an angel sent from up above, Chan smiled. He took a mental picture of the sight, hoping it would be the first of many, then slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door without a sound.
The first thing he saw when he entered the kitchen was Vernon pouring cereal like a man who hadn’t slept in three days and was on the verge of starvation. Seungkwan was slumped over the counter, half-dead, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Both looked up when Chan walked in wearing nothing but sweats and a very evident bruised neck.
Seungkwan squinted. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” Chan asked, voice definitely not and octave higher. The look on their faces said it all; they already knew he had something to say. He was terrible at pretending to be nonchalant.
“Like you’re thrilled to be alive,” Vernon added, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth. “Did you see god or something?”
Very close.
Chan opened the fridge just to have something to hide behind. “I didn’t see God. I just… had a very good night.”
Seungkwan snorted loudly. “You? A good night? With who? Your pillow?”
“Actually…” Chan closed the fridge door, trying his absolute hardest to be casual. “Y/N and I—”
They both rolled their eyes as if to say, ‘here we go again with this subject,’ and Chan did his best to hide the smile threatening to appear on his lips, along with the urge to shout to the four corners of the apartment about what had happened last night. Of course, he held back, because you were sleeping like an angel in his sheets, and he would never risk disturbing you.
“Chan, seriously,” Seungkwan said, exhausted. “It’s time to let it go. You couldn’t even speak in front of her last night.”
Vernon nodded. “Pretty sure her boyfriend came to pick her up anyway.”
“Could you let me finish?” Chan huffed, arms crossing over his bare chest. “As I was saying, Y/N and I… we kinda talked. A lot. And then we… uhm… we—”
“Are you high right now?” Seungkwan cut in.
He blinked. “What?”
“Why are you referring to you and Y/N as ‘we’?”
“Because… last night we finally…”
Vernon stared at him, monotone as always. “You didn’t.”
“I DID!” Chan whisper-yelled, pointing vaguely toward his bedroom. “She was wearing my hoodie and then we talked and the she kissed me and—”
Seungkwan burst into laughter so loud it echoed. “Okay, sweetheart. I love you, but you dreamed that. No way Y/N was in your room last night.”
“I didn’t dream it!”
“You definitely did,” Vernon said, crunching cereal like this was a court trial. “You were drunk. Did you use that thing I bought Wednesday? Seungyoun said the trip was insane—”
Chan groaned. “Guys, I’m serious.”
Seungkawn patted his shoulder sympathetically, shooting his voice like he was speaking to a child. “It’s okay, buddy. One day you’ll kiss her for real. Just maybe not in your dreams next time. Okay?
He opened his mouth to argue, but footsteps echoed down the hallway, making Vernon and Seungkwan look over and watch intently. It didn’t take long for Chan to notice their eyes growing wide in their socket, almost popping out. Vernon dropped the cereal bowl, while Seungkwan looked like his soul had been yanked straight out of his body and shoved back in, choking violently on his iced coffee.
And there you were.
Smiling shyly. Sleepy-messy hair. Bare legs. Chan’s oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder like it was made for you. Blinking in the sunlight and looking way too soft and way too pretty for this hour, and for anyone else’s eyes; he should be the only one allowed to see you like this from now on.
You walked over to Chan like it was the most normal thing in the world, wrapped your arms around his neck, and stood on your toes to peck his lips.
“Morning,” you murmured against his lips.
He smiled into the kiss. Vernon and Seungkwan were nothing but white noise now. “Good morning, beautiful. Sleep okay?”
“Like a baby.” Then you finally noticed the two frozen men staring at you. “Oh—hi. Good morning. Do you guys have coffee?”
Seungkwan made a noise so high-pitched only dogs could hear it.
Vernon blinked slowly. “Bro.”
Chan shrugged at them with a smug little smile, arm slipping around your waist. From now on, it was the one place it belonged.
“Told you.”
# NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
Every ask & comment gives me life 💗 If you’re enjoying it, don’t forget to reblog, helps so much and gets the fic out there!!
Helloooooo, if you’re talking suggestions… may I pleaseeee pleaseeee pleaseeeeee request Vernon with a little exhibitionism?
You taste so good
Vernon was always a bit of an exhibitionist, he loved the thrill of being seen by others. And today, he had a plan. He took you out to a fancy restaurant, one that was known for its privacy and seclusion. As you sat at the table, Vernon couldn't keep his hands off of you. He kept touching you under the table, his fingers trailing up your thigh and brushing against your most sensitive spots. You tried to ignore him at first, but it was hard when his touch was so electric. You could feel your heart racing, and you knew that Vernon was enjoying this way too much.
He leaned in close to you, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You look so beautiful tonight. I can't wait to show everyone who you belong to."
His hand continued to roam, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he watched you with a possessive gleam in his eyes. As the night went on, Vernon's touches grew bolder and more daring. He would occasionally lean in to whisper something in your ear, his voice low and seductive.
"Do you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off of you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "I just want to take you right here, right now."
You shivered at his words, feeling a thrill run through your body. You knew that Vernon was serious - he would do it if you let him. He smirked as he noticed your reaction, his eyes darkening with desire. "You like that idea, don't you?" he said, his voice husky. "You like the thought of people watching us."
Vernon's hand crept higher up your thigh, his fingers brushing against the lace of your underwear. You gasped softly, your body responding to his touch despite your attempts to remain composed.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're already so wet for me, aren't you? You're so turned on by the thought of being seen."
His fingers slipped beneath the lace, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You tried to suppress a moan, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention.
Vernon chuckled, enjoying the way you were struggling to maintain your composure. "Don't hold back," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Let me hear you."
You looked around the restaurant, scanning the faces of the other patrons to see if anyone had noticed what was going on. But everyone seemed to be minding their own business, engrossed in their own conversations and meals.
Vernon smirked as he saw you looking around nervously. "Don't worry, no one's watching," he whispered, his fingers continuing to tease you under the table. "But I bet they could if they wanted to."
He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "You know how much I love having an audience. And you know how much you love being the center of attention."
"Vernon, we can't," you protested weakly, even as your body betrayed you. "We're in public."
Vernon chuckled, his fingers still working their magic under the table. "That's what makes it so exciting," he said, his voice low and seductive. "The thrill of being caught." He moved his hand away from your underwear and trailed it up your stomach, stopping to rest on your breast. He squeezed gently, feeling your nipple harden under his touch.
"Imagine how they would react if they saw us like this," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "They'd be shocked, but they wouldn't be able to look away."
You pushed Vernon's hands away, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Vernon, stop," you said firmly, your voice shaking slightly. "We're in public, we can't do this here."
Vernon pouted playfully, but he didn't argue. He knew when to stop pushing your limits.
"Fine, fine," he said with a smirk. "I'll behave... for now."
He settled back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you. He looked like a predator watching its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. As the evening went on, Vernon continued to torment you under the table. His hands would occasionally slip into your underwear, brushing against your most sensitive spots. You tried to keep a straight face, but it was getting harder and harder to maintain your composure. Every time he touched you, you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body, and you had to fight to keep from moaning out loud.
Vernon seemed to be enjoying your struggle, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watched you squirm in your seat. He would occasionally whisper dirty things in your ear, his words only making the situation worse. Vernon skipped a finger inside you, the sudden sensation causing you to gasp and grip the edge of the table. He smirked, enjoying the reaction he was getting out of you.
"You're so responsive," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. "I love how easy it is to get you worked up."
He continued to tease you with his fingers, slowly sliding them in and out of you as he watched you try to maintain your composure. You tried to focus on your food, trying to distract yourself from the sensations that Vernon was causing between your legs. But it was impossible to ignore - every movement of his fingers sent a wave of pleasure through your body, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.
You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your body responding eagerly to his touch. You knew that you were close to giving in, but you tried to hold on to your self-control. Vernon could sense your struggle, and he took advantage of it. He increased the pace of his fingers, his movements becoming more insistent as he worked to push you over the edge.
"You're so wet for me," he whispered, his voice filled with desire. "I can feel how much you want me. Just give in, baby. Let go."
You tried to bite back a moan, but it slipped out anyway. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort of holding back.
Vernon leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Come for me, baby. I want to see you fall apart."
Your body was trembling uncontrollably now, your orgasm building inside you like a tidal wave. You were close, so close, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Vernon could sense your impending release, and he pushed you even further. He increased the speed of his fingers, his touch becoming almost rough as he worked to bring you to the brink.
"That's it, baby," he growled in your ear. "Let go. I want to see you come undone right here, right now."
You tried to stifle a cough, but it came out as a choked moan as you came on Vernon's fingers. You gripped the edge of the table tightly, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Vernon watched you intently, his eyes dark with desire as he felt you clench around his fingers. He continued to move them inside you, prolonging your pleasure as you rode out the waves of your orgasm.
"That's my girl," he murmured, a satisfied smirk on his face. "You're so beautiful when you come for me."
As you came down from your high, you slumped back in your chair, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. You looked around the restaurant, half-expecting to see people staring at you, but no one seemed to have noticed what had just happened. Vernon withdrew his fingers from your underwear and brought them to his lips, sucking them clean. He looked at you with a smirk, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.
"That was fun," he said, his voice low and husky. "But we're definitely doing that again sometime."
Vernon licked his fingers clean, pretending to be wiping them on his napkin, but you knew what he was really doing. He was tasting your cum, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. He looked at you with a smirk, his eyes glinting mischievously. "You taste so good," he whispered, his voice low and seductive. "I could get addicted to that."
all these asks are so cute omg wait i just saw this !! if you're still doing them i'd love to hear about jun please :3
mdni underneath the cut!
it's nights like these where you're thankful soundproof walls exist. ("soundproof", heavy on the air quotes. you're 90% sure the hotel concierge mentioned something like that when junhui had checked in. the other 10% of your poor brain was figuring out how to deal with the vibrator in your cunt.)
the silk sheets of the bed feel endless, cool like water against your skin. you lie on your back, feeling the bite of your fingernails in your thighs as you hold them open. between them, junhui's kneeling figure.
earlier, your fiancé had given you your first birthday gift of the day. double holiday, he had called it. double the gifts. naively, you had thought it was makeup, maybe a new perfume. instead, you had undone the big bow, unwrapped the sparkly paper, and found, instead, the vibrator. quickly, you had felt all the blood rush to your cheeks, then, downstairs. even more quickly, junhui had you bent over his knee, watching you take every inch of your new gift. (the second gift: the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. the price, even more outrageous.)
"c-can't," you breathe. your voice crawls its way from your chest, curls in your throat. "wanna cum...feels too good."
he responds with a cruel tilt of his head, a smile playing on his lips. "you're almost there, darling. show me how good you are."
delirious, you nod. almost there, you repeat, your mind treading over those two words despite the pleasure. you had already endured a phone call with your best friend (in which junhui had decided to try out all the intensity settings on his phone) and your birthday dinner (in which you wore a dress with no panties, and he couldn't seem to get his hands off your thighs). you could do this, a few minutes more.
through your frosted vision, you watch junhui palm himself over his jeans, rough, desperate. without thinking, you whimper, feeling yourself tighten around the toy. compared to feeling him, this was nothing. this didn't hug your sweet spot, didn't fill you til you couldn't breathe, didn't rock against your clit just how you needed, not like junhui did.
fuck. now you're thinking about junhui fucking you, which is not helping your situation. if you're lucky, he'd do it tonight, with your ankles over his shoulders.
"you're soaked," he murmurs, voice quiet, reverent. he parts your legs a touch wider, his touch searing into you, so that you are fully on display. "so cute."
like this, you can feel everything, the cold air of the room you're in, the way his gaze seems to haunt your skin. a few gasping breaths, oh, even just a breath too deep would send you over, but you're determined to be good, no, better than good. you squeeze your eyes shut, letting your lips fall open in another noise somewhere between a moan and a pathetic hiccup--no longer can you tell the difference.
it's then that junhui sees this gasping window of opportunity and places two long fingers in your mouth, right against your tongue, and watches as you gag. "you know what to do, pretty girl," he tells you, and you do. like a dog, you suck, dreaming about him doing the same with his cock. traitorously, your hips rock up at the mere thought, oh, all the pressure in your belly might just make you explode.
but junhui is never cruel, never unloving to his favorite girl, the only one he's loved like this. so with these fingers, covered in your desperation, he trails them down your trembling neck, the curve of your tits, swollen from his mouth, over your stomach, and presses them to your puffy clit.
no words come to you, instead just a cry, shuddering, one that rips through your body. a white-hot feeling erupts inside you, one like fireworks, and you cum around the vibrator, again and again and again, as junhui works you with two fingers alone.
you're gone, somewhere unspeakable, too high to tell him again, again, i want more. luckily, he's always been able to read your mind. a long gasp, a reaching hand, a hot mouth over yours; before you know it, the vibrator is god knows where, replaced by junhui's cock, heavy on your abdomen.
yoy were nestled under the covers, sound asleep, the soft rise and fall of your chest the only movement in the quiet room. wonwoo laid beside you, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a soft smile.
he couldn’t help but admire the peaceful expression on your face, the way your hair fell messily around your face, and the soft hum of your breathing. he knows he should let you sleep, but he couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you awake; just a little.
he leaned down, pressing the lightest kiss to your forehead. your skin was warm, your face soft, but you didn’t stir. wonwoo smiled to himself and kissed the tip of your nose, then gently brushed his lips against your cheek. still, you didn’t wake.
a little more playful now, he kissed the corner of your mouth, his lips lingering there for a moment. when you didn’t react, he let out a small laugh. then, wonwoo leans in, he kissed your lips—light, sweet, and lingering.
still nothing.
wonwoo grinned, his patience running thin; deciding it was time to be a little bolder. he plants a soft kiss just below your ear as he moved to kiss your jawline, then moved further down to your neck, littering kisses trailing down, that was when you finally shifted, a small sigh escaping your lips as your eyes fluttered open. you blinked a few times, still caught between sleep and waking, and then smiled sleepily up at him.
“good morning,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, as he pulled back to look at you.
you giggled softly, still half-asleep. “you’re a little persistent,” you teased, your voice soft.
wonwoo just smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “only when it comes to you,” he said with a smile that made your heart flutter.
thinking about how dino is fucking you in the right places hitting the spots and placing his palm on your lower belly, asking if you can feel him in your guts 😵💫 i feel like he would absolutely do that whilst smirking and being all cocky at how cock drunk you are
Anon I had to stop what I was writing and I had to write this oh my god I hope you enjoy 🤭
Dino grins down at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of smugness and satisfaction as he continues to thrust into you. He knows exactly what he's doing, hitting all the right spots and making you see stars with every movement. He reaches down and places his palm flat against your lower belly, feeling the way his cock is moving inside you.
"Can you feel me, baby?" he asks, his voice low and teasing. "Can you feel me deep inside you?"
You can only nod in response, your words failing you as pleasure washes over you in waves. He smirks at your reaction, his hand pressing down slightly as if to emphasize the feeling.
"Good," he growls, his eyes dark with desire. "I want you to feel every inch of me, to feel how I'm claiming you from the inside out."
He shifts his position slightly, angling his hips to hit even deeper inside you. He can feel your body responding to him, the way your muscles clench and tighten around him with every thrust.
"You're so tight," he groans, his hand still on your lower belly. "So hot and wet for me."
His fingers trace the outline of his cock on your lower belly, feeling the way it moves in and out of you with each thrust.
"Fuck," he mutters, his eyes fixed on the sight. "You look so damn good like this, all filled up with me."
He continues to watch, his eyes filled with a mixture of possessiveness and desire.
"I love seeing you like this," he murmurs, his hand still tracing patterns on your skin. "All mine, all spread out for me."
He can't help but smirk at the look on your face, your eyes glazed over with pleasure and your expression completely blissed out.
"You're so cock drunk for me," he says, his voice low and amused. "It's so damn hot."
He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You're completely at my mercy right now, aren't you?"
He nips at your earlobe, his hand still on your lower belly, feeling the way your body reacts to his words.
You glance down, your eyes widening as you see the outline of his cock twitching beneath his hand. He lets out a low chuckle, his eyes darkening with lust as he sees you looking.
"See what you do to me?" he growls, his hand pressing down slightly against your stomach. "You make me lose control like no one else can."
His pace becomes more erratic, his hips moving faster as he feels his own orgasm approaching.
"I'm so close," he grunts, his grip on your hip tightening as he holds you in place. "You're gonna make me come so hard."
He pulls out of you just in time, his cock slick with your juices as he takes it in his hand. With a low groan, he strokes himself a few more times before he comes, his release spilling out onto your stomach in hot spurts.
He watches as his cum lands on your skin, his chest heaving with exertion. He runs his fingers through the mess, smearing it all over your stomach as he admires the sight.
"Look at you," he says, his voice rough with satisfaction. "Covered in my cum, marked as mine."
He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Don't forget the feeling of me inside you, baby. The way I filled you up so perfectly."
He nips at your earlobe again, his hand still tracing patterns in the cum on your stomach.
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
stormborns
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