K

“Writing what I can’t say out loud. | Request Open | 04’ | updates when insomnia hits | If you are down bad follow and dm me I need more friends

[midnightpaperco]

⩇⩇:⩇⩇ ⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Kay 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

✶⋆.˚➤ ‘04 She/They INFP-T

✶⋆.˚➤ Chan/Mingi Ult Biases

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Favorite K-Pop Groups: Stray Kids · ATEEZ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ What I Write: One-shots: smut, angst, AMBW stories ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Other Things: I take requests and im always looking for friends, so DM me ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

ׂ ₊˚⊹⋆Stories ₊˚⊹⋆

₊˚⊹⋆Oneshots₊˚⊹⋆

[belongjoong]

whiny boyfriend mingi headcannons. ☁︎⋅

৻ꪆ contains: kissing, cuddling, pouting, touchy mingi, oral (m recieving), very suggestive. mdni

whiny!mingi - drapes himself dramatically across your lap the second you sit down, making sure at least half his body is uncomfortable so you have to pay attention to him

whiny!mingi - wakes you up in the middle of the night by rutting his hard length between your thighs, voice cracking as he repeats "i can't sleep baby."

whiny!mingi - says “babe” forty times in a row with increasing urgency until you look up from your phone

whiny!mingi - sobs “suck harder, i need your throat, ungh,” bucking his hips up to fuck your mouth, drool dripping down his chin as he rambles about how perfect your lips feel wrapped around his shaft.

whiny!mingi - will follow you room to room complaining that he’s bored, but the moment you suggest something to do he says “no not that.” he won’t say what he really wants (wink wink)

whiny!mingi - pouts and whines “baby, please, my cock hurts so bad”when you ignore his throbbing bulge in his pants during movie night, humping your thigh desperately until you finally stroke him off.

whiny!mingi - whines that you never kiss him first and then gets flustered the second you actually do

whiny!mingi - who’s version of “I miss you” is showing up wherever you are and sighing loudly until you acknowledge him

taglist : @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @kisssan @way2jellyous @civeua @stxrrywoo @strhwa @s0ul1nyah @velvetjoong @klowiishere @eviemae5864 @3nhyxx @leewayout @paomaoposts @eggielix

[stlllle]

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝑪𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕

Note:he’s my husband, okay 😭 and guys, my requests are open!! send me anything ‘cause I’m already running out of fic ideas :(

Bang Chan / Lee Know/ Changbin / Hyunjin / Han / Felix / Seungmin / Jeongin

Main masterlist / skz masterlist

Honestly, the more I think about Bang Chan, the more I’m convinced he’s the ultimate deception. Outside, he’s the perfect leader, responsible, caring, protective, always taking care of everyone. But in my head? Behind closed doors, he turns into something completely different. A calm, intense, insanely filthy dom who knows exactly how to ruin you in the best way possible.

I imagine him being super controlling in bed, but in that quiet, confident way that’s almost dangerous. He doesn’t need to yell or be aggressive for you to know who’s in charge. He uses that deep, raspy voice (especially after long hours in the studio) to whisper right against your ear, “Shh… be good for me, baby. Breathe. I know exactly what you need, and I’m gonna give it to you… but on my time.”

His dick… fuck. I’m convinced he’s packing around 17 to 18 cm, really thick, with a prominent vein running along the shaft and a pretty pink head that gets even more sensitive when he’s really turned on. It’s heavy, gorgeous, and curves slightly upward — perfect for hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. He knows exactly what he’s working with and loves using it against you. When he pulls it out and you widen your eyes, he gives you that little smirk and says in a low voice, “Why the surprised face? Thought you couldn’t take all of it? Don’t worry… I’ll open you up nice and slow first, then I’ll give you everything.”

He’s such a tease. Even before properly taking your clothes off, he already has you soaked and desperate. He’ll kiss and suck on your neck, play with your nipples, run his big warm hands up your thighs while his fingers tease your pussy over your panties, pressing slow circles on your clit just to torture you. He chuckles softly when you start grinding against his hand and begging. Only then does he finally pull your panties aside.

When he goes down on you:

Bang Chan is ridiculously good at eating pussy. He spreads your legs wide, settles between them like he has all night, and starts licking you slowly from bottom to top. He sucks on your folds, pushes his tongue inside you like he’s fucking you with it, then moves up to your clit and sucks it perfectly while sliding two or three thick fingers deep inside, curling them right against your g-spot. He moans against your pussy because he genuinely loves the way you taste. The more you shake, pull his hair, and moan his name, the more intense he gets — sucking harder and fingering you faster until you cum all over his tongue. And even after you finish, he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking you softly through the sensitivity, making you whimper and twitch until he pulls another orgasm out of you.

When you suck him off:

He fucking loves it. Chan will sit on the edge of the bed or lean back against the headboard, spread his legs, and watch you with those dark hungry eyes while you kneel between them. He holds your hair firmly but gently at first, guiding you. When you start licking the head and running your tongue along the vein, he lets out a deep groan. “Just like that… fuck… go slow, I want to feel everything.” Once you take him deeper into your throat, he loses some of that control and starts fucking your mouth with slow, deep thrusts, groaning, “You suck me so good… such a perfect mouth… take a little more, baby.”

When he finally fucks you, he’s insatiable. He loves starting slow, watching your pussy stretch around his thick cock, but once you adjust he starts thrusting deep and hard. He’s obsessed with eye contact — especially in missionary with your legs over his shoulders. He pins your hands above your head and fucks you while looking straight into your eyes. He also loves doggy style, pulling your hair, spanking your ass, and pounding you deep. And against the wall? He’ll lift you like you weigh nothing and fuck you senseless, gripping your ass tight.

His dirty talk is on another level. He mixes sweet and filthy so well: “Look how your pussy is squeezing my cock… so greedy for me”, “You’re mine, you hear me? Only mine to fuck and fill up”, “You want me to breed you? Want your husband to pump you full until it’s dripping down your thighs?”

His breeding kink is really strong. When he’s close, he grips your waist tighter, thrusts deeper, and groans in your ear, “I’m gonna fill you up so much… want you leaking my cum… you want that, don’t you? Want your husband to breed this pretty pussy.” When he cums, he cums a lot — thick, hot spurts deep inside you — and he keeps slowly grinding afterwards, pushing it all in as deep as possible.

He has insane stamina. He can go for multiple rounds, and between them he’ll eat you out again, finger you, kiss you all over, and get you ready for the next one.

After everything, he switches straight back to soft Chris. He carries you to the bathroom, washes your hair gently, cleans you up carefully, brings you water, puts cream on all the marks he left, and pulls you into his arms under the blankets. He kisses your forehead, your nose, and your lips while whispering how perfect you were and how much he loves you.

In short: Bang Chan might be the sweet, responsible leader to everyone else… but with you, he’s a caring, possessive, filthy, and insatiable dom who knows exactly how to break you apart with pleasure and leave you completely addicted to him.

---

Mini scenario just because I want to

You barely had time to catch your breath before Chan locked the studio door and pushed you against the wall.

His mouth crashed into yours — hungry, wet, and desperate. One of his hands gripped your thigh, pulling it around his waist as he pressed his body against you. The kiss was messy, tongues sliding together, his breathing already heavy.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he growled against your lips, voice rough and low. “Sitting there in that little skirt… teasing me like you didn’t know what you were doing.”

Before you could answer, he spun you around and bent you over the couch. He flipped your skirt up to your waist and yanked your panties down roughly. You heard the sound of his belt and zipper, then felt the heavy, warm weight of his cock rubbing against your soaked folds.

“Fuck, you’re dripping already,” he murmured, sliding the thick head up and down your pussy, teasing your clit. “So wet for me, baby.”

You pushed back against him, desperate.

Chan didn’t make you wait long. He gripped your hips and pushed inside in one slow, deep thrust. The stretch was intense, making you moan loudly as he filled you completely. He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, his cock throbbing inside you.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned, voice strained. “This pretty pussy always takes me so well.”

Then he started moving.

Slow, deep strokes at first — pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, making sure you felt every inch. The wet, obscene sounds of him fucking you filled the studio. Each thrust hit that perfect spot inside you, making your legs shake.

“Chan— oh my god…” you moaned, gripping the back of the couch.

“Yeah? Feel good?” He leaned over your back, one hand sliding around to rub your clit while he fucked you harder. “You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

He suddenly pulled out, making you whine at the emptiness. In one quick motion he flipped you onto your back on the couch, spreading your legs wide. His eyes were dark as he looked down at your dripping pussy.

“Need to taste you first.”

He dropped to his knees and buried his face between your thighs. His tongue was relentless — long, slow licks followed by fast circles on your clit. He sucked your clit into his mouth while pushing two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them perfectly against your g-spot. He moaned loudly against your pussy, clearly loving the way you tasted.

You cried out, hands flying to his hair, hips grinding against his face. He didn’t stop. He licked and sucked harder, fingers pumping faster until your thighs started shaking.

“Chan— I’m gonna cum— fuck—”

He kept going, sucking on your clit until you came hard, moaning his name as your pussy clenched around his fingers. He didn’t pull away. He kept licking you gently through the orgasm, drinking every drop until you were trembling and oversensitive.

Only then did he stand up. His cock was rock hard, shiny with your juices. He climbed over you, lined himself up, and pushed back inside with one deep thrust.

This angle was even better. He fucked you harder, hips snapping against yours as he stared straight into your eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice rough. “Want to see your face while I fuck you.”

His thrusts were deep and powerful, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the studio. You could barely think straight anymore — only feeling how full you were, how perfectly he hit that spot inside you with every stroke.

He reached between your bodies and rubbed your clit again, fast and firm.

“Cum for me again, baby. Want to feel you squeezing my cock.”

You came hard for the second time, back arching, pussy pulsing around him. Chan groaned loudly, fucking you through it without slowing down.

“Fuck— you feel so good… so fucking good.”

He kept going, chasing his own pleasure. His thrusts became faster, more desperate. Sweat dripped down his neck as he pounded into you.

“Gonna cum inside you,” he growled, voice breaking. “Want to fill this pretty pussy up. You want that? Want me to breed you, baby?”

“Yes— please— cum inside me—”

With a deep, broken moan, Chan buried himself as deep as possible and came hard. You felt every pulse, every thick spurt of his cum flooding deep inside you. He kept grinding slowly, pushing it even deeper while kissing you messily.

For a moment, the only sound was both of you breathing heavily.

Chan stayed inside you, forehead pressed against yours, eyes soft again. He kissed you gently, completely different from how rough he’d been just minutes ago.

“You okay, love?” he whispered tenderly, brushing hair out of your face. “Did I go too hard?”

You shook your head, still dazed and satisfied. “It was perfect…”

He smiled softly, that sweet dimpled smile you loved so much, and kissed you again — slow and full of love. Then he carefully pulled out, watching with dark satisfaction as his cum slowly leaked from your pussy.

He grabbed some tissues and cleaned you up gently before pulling you into his arms on the couch. He wrapped you in his big hoodie and held you against his chest, pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

“My perfect girl,” he murmured, voice warm. “You did so well for me.”

He kept kissing you softly — your cheeks, your nose, your lips — while gently stroking your back.

“Rest a little,” he whispered against your hair, a small smirk appearing. “Because later… I’m taking you home and fucking you again. All night.”

You shivered in his arms, already excited for round two.

Bang Chan smiled and held you tighter, heart still beating fast against yours.

[doliveiraa]

skz when they overstimulate you ── ot8

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───── 𝓹airings / bf!skz x blackgf!reader ─── 𝓰enre / HELLA SMUT 𝔀arnings / 18+ heavy sexual content, overstimulation, degradation + praise, breeding kinks, creampies!, dacryphilia (crying), orgasm control, multiple orgasms, dumbification, spanking (light), hair pulling, slight sadism, mean!dom dynamics, possessive behavior, slight choking (implied), cockdrunk behavior, pet names, size kink, spit mention, explicit language, aftercare, FREAK!SKZ!!! ─── 𝓪/n uhhh this came to me really late at night ><!! i am sorry that i left tumblr for a little , but im back !! send any requests !! as always feedback and reblogs appreciated!!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

bangchan - 방찬

- he starts teasingly slow but then goes deep—his pace gets meaner the more you beg - holds your legs wide open and watches your eyes roll back , murmuring “that’s it , baby , take it all” - overstimulates you to the point where your body’s trembling and your mouth is slack - presses his 8 inch cock all the way in to your cervix (yeah we love bigdick!chan over here)!! and keeps it there while you let out wanton cries - coos softly when you start to cry. “shh , i know baby. it’s too much. but you’re taking me so well” - when he finally lets you cum , it’s messy and loud—cum leaking from your swollen cunt and dripping down your thighs and making a white, creamy cum-ring around his cock - kisses your forehead while you stare at the ceiling like you’ve seen God (not God , just bangchans cock)

lee know - 리노

- his thrusts are rough and scarliy precise. he fucks you like he’s punishing you for teasing him (he most likely is) - your legs are trembling , back arched , hands gripping the sheets like they’ll save you - “you wanted this. don’t you dare try to run now.” - he makes you cum again. and again. and again (probably your 4th) . he doesn’t stop until you’re fully babbling nonsense - fingers rubbing your puffy pink clit while his lengthy 7 1/2 cock ruins your insides - by the time he’s done , your thighs are soaked , cum is spilling out of you , and you’re so gone he has to hold your face and bring you back - smug little smirk as he says, “wake up, jagi. we’re not done.”

changbin - 창빈

- he's fucking relentless. his big veiny hands holding your hips down, thrusting so deep it feels like he’s rearranging your guts - praises you between grunts—“you’re taking it so good. so fucking tight around me” - overstimulates you with his fingers and 7 inch cock at the same time until you’re thrashing - when you go limp , eyes fluttering, he groans like it fuels him - pulls out to watch his cum mix with yours and drip onto the bed , then pushes it right back in - definitely doesn’t stop until you’re completely fucked dumb -swollen lips open , whimpering his name - lays beside you after , laughing breathlessly, “princess … are you even in this universe anymore?”

hyunjin - 현진

- makes it romantic at first. slow kisses , soft touches , until you’re begging him to ruin you - his thrusts get harder , faster , meaner—and your brain melts from the overstimulation - moans like he’s in pain every time your cunt tightens around his long 8 inch cock - talks you through it in his low, breathy voice. “you’re gone , huh? you can’t even think , my sweet muse.” - leaves you shaking , thighs glistening , cum trickling down in thick drops - you’re drooling. eyes glazed. too dumb to speak (he just has that magic dick power :>) - hyunjin just brushes your hair out of your face and whispers, “so pretty.”

han - 한

- chaotic and unhinged. doesn’t even try to be gentle - his 6 1/2 cock pounding you into next week while laughing breathlessly - “look at you—so cockdrunk you can’t even form a sentence” - overstimulates you so fast your body screams for him to stop but he won’t - presses your knees to your chest and watches his cum spill out of you after every round - slaps your ass to get your attention when you go limp. “hello? earth to noona?” - when you finally blink up at him all dazed and ruined , he groans , “fuckkk (name) … that’s the look i was waiting for.”

felix - 필릭스

- so sweet at first. so soft. and then he snaps. - deep voice whispering filthy things while he makes you cum over and over - overstimulates you with his tongue and his 8 inch cock like it’s his divine mission ( it most defitnitely is ) - he loves how wrecked you get for him. how you cry and moan and fall apart under him - he will defitnitely coax one last orgasm out of you when you’re already sobbing , just to feel you squeeze around his cock one more time - his cum drips out of your twitching pussy and he groans like he’s gonna bust again ( fyi , he did alllll over your pretty little pussy :) ) - after, he lays next to you , rubbing your belly and kissing your face while you just blink and whimper his name

seungmin - 승민

- he's fucking evil. completely sadistic with that smug little smirk - “you were talking back earlier. now look at you.” - he will defitnitely overstimulate you past your limit on purpose , ignoring your cries until you’re full-on shaking - watches the way your thighs spasm , when he puts his 7 inch cock in, your eyes wide and mind empty - he fucks his cum into you even after it’s leaking out , saying “not wasting a fucking drop.” - makes you say his name even when you’re too far gone to remember your own - pulls out to admire the mess between your legs , licking his lips like he’s proud

jeongin - 정인

- his shy smile disappears once he’s inside you. all that innocence? oh yeah it's gone. - he overstimulates you by accident at first — but once he realizes how far gone you get , he does it on purpose with his 7 1/2 inch cock - keeps going even after you cum , moaning at how tight and wet you are - you’re twitching and babbling his name and he’s grunting - “again. give me one more.” - he watches his cum spill down your thighs with a dazed smile , like he can’t believe he did that to you - kisses your lips and your jaw while your brain reboots in real time - whispers , “you look so pretty like this darling, fucked full of me…”

𝓪𝓊𝓉𝒽ℴ𝓇'𝓈 𝓃ℴ𝓉ℯ .ᐟ - this is ANOTHER repost because the original got taken down :(

doliveiraa ౨ৎ ― est. june '24 © do not copy or repost my content on other platforms.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[midnightpaperco]

Hey y'all.….

I know I basically ghosted after promising a big drop but I was basically locked out of my account I don't know why it just gave me an error message on every device I tried to log in from! Work is back busy so it's gonna take me a bit of time to transfer everything from my notes to here and ao3 I'm gonna try my hardest to get it done 😭

[kloversung]

the anatomy of a roommate

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⋆ ˚ ｡ ִ ֶָ .𓂃 ִֶָ ་ ⋆ .

who knew sharing a flat with a literal greek god would involve so much 'extra-curricular practice' ?

𖦹 pairing: bang chan x reader, roommates to lovers 𖦹 genre: smut (minors do not interact); fluff 𖦹 warnings: dom!chan x sub!reader, kissing, masturbation, use of a sex toy, unprotected penetrative sex (please use contraceptives !), afab reader 𖦹 word count: 4k ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ 𖦹 kysa's note: this one is — ahem — pretty self indulgent, and let's just say, i have indulged. a lot. it's a tad bit longer than my first fic and it's about my second husband - bang chan (and this is actually about banging chan — okayokay i'll stop) have fun reading and leave your thoughts in the comments, xoxo

is this legal ?

is looking this delectable actually allowed by law ?

these were the only thoughts that fired through your brain, as you stared at the man standing in the doorway of your shared flat. before you could attempt to gather yourself, the literal personification of a greek god introduced himself with a smile. (wait — were those dimples ?)

"hey ! i'm chan," his voice a low melodic hum, "i guess we'll be sharing this flat."

you shuffled your feet awkwardly and offered a smile, "oh- hi ! i'm y/n, it's nice to meet you, uh — chan."

and that was how you ended up sharing a university flat with the most devastatingly handsome man you had ever laid eyes upon.

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

chan was a great flatmate — exceptional, honestly. he possessed a kindness that felt both effortless and deeply intentional, manifesting in the smallest, sweetest gestures. he would offer to buy your groceries, even arranging them in the pantry. once he learnt about your favourite snacks — always in the grocery list you gave him before thanking him profusely — he'd make sure to keep them stocked. it became a routine; the comforting crinkle of a fresh bag of chips waiting for you, or the silent, sweet reminder of a fresh water bottle left by your bedroom door to ensure you stayed hydrated.

naturally, you did your best to reciprocate. you kept the common areas spotless and grabbed his favorite coffee on your way home. you’d pick up little things here and there — a candle he liked the scent of, or a new dish soap — hoping your actions spoke louder than your words. but mostly, you tried to be a 'good' flatmate by hiding the massive crush you had developed on him.

was it really your fault though ?

was any human being actually designed to withstand this much temptation ?

he was just the perfect blend of genuine kindness and pure devastation. it was impossible for you to function with him in your line of sight. when he lounged around in a tank top, it was like a master class in human anatomy — every muscle sculpted and defined. and god bless whoever invented the compression shirts he wore for his gym sessions, because wow — the way the fabric clung to his frame should have been a public health hazard. then there was the way he’d just settle onto the sofa, knees wide, manspreading. it was enough to make your brain short-circuit every single time. you had never felt this distracted, this enamoured by someone, but he — he was all you could think about. in a flat meant for two, chan had somehow managed to take up every inch of your headspace.

but you couldn't bring yourself to act on it.

of course the guy was a fucking michelin star meal and you'd love to eat him up — but you were convinced he was just being the world’s nicest guy. you weren't about to ruin a perfectly good living situation because you were delusional. your heart was screaming for him, but your logic was playing it safe.

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

today was supposed be no different. the lectures had been long and you were exhausted, to say the least. since chan was usually stuck in his own classes at this time, you figured the apartment was your private sanctuary. you had traded your denims and jacket for a soft oversized shirt with nothing underneath, heading to the bathroom to wash your face.

but as you turned towards the sink, your brain short-circuited. your eyes hit a pair of solid, damp legs first. before you could even process why there was a person in your 'empty' home, your gaze traveled upwards, and —

oh.

chan stood in front of you, fresh out of the shower with nothing but a towel hanging dangerously low around his waist. his blonde wet hair was slicked back as tiny droplets of water were racing down his torso, tracing the deep, insane curves of his muscles before disappearing into the folds of the towel.

you were pretty sure you were salivating.

in fact, you were reasonably certain your soul had actually left your body and was currently vibrating somewhere on the bathroom ceiling.

mortified by the fact that you were blatantly staring, you snapped out of the stupor. a string of frantic, nonsensical apologies tumbled from your lips as you bolted for your room, slamming the door shut with a deafening thud.

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

the next day, you changed your entire routine to avoid him at all costs. you left for university before he woke up and returned when he had left for his late-evening gym sessions. you couldn't bare to meet his eyes and you needed distraction from the mental loop of his damp, glistening skin.

so you drowned yourself in academics, joined debate club, and loaded yourself with every co-curricular possible. slowly and gradually, you became a ghost in your own house, even timing your bathroom and kitchen runs so as to not run into him.

but your body was a complete traitor to the cause. the ache between your legs was constant — a heavy, pulsing reminder — that your self-control was hanging by a thread. it got so bad you had to start wearing a bra at home because your nipples would literally perk up the second you heard his voice.

chan would try to catch you, his brow furrowing as you’d give him a quick, breathless smile before rushing to your room. little did he know, you were terrified that if he said your name in that low, honeyed tone — if he even stepped an inch too close — you’d actually moan right there over the toaster. even your own fingers were unable to ease this ever-present tension.

you had to do something. anything.

and you did.

you ordered a dildo.

a dildo — based on your entirely unintentional mental measurements from the shower incident.

it became your nightly ritual — your reward for a day of acting like his presence didn't wreck you. you would wait for the tell-tale sound of the front door clicking shut as he headed to the gym, and then you’d finally let yourself go. it was the only way to flush the tension out of your system, a desperate attempt to reset your brain so you could wake up the next morning and pretend you weren't dying to have the real thing.

then he posted on instagram.

a video of him working out.

bare chested.

the way that this man managed to find you despite all your attempts to evade him was fucking hilarious. by the time your last lecture ended, you were a wreck. sitting through a double-period of microeconomic theory while your skin felt three sizes too small, was a brand of hell you wouldn't wish on anyone. you practically ran home, bolted into your room, and reached for the silicone substitute. it wasn't him — it could never be him — but it was the only relief you had.

you kicked off your sweatpants, falling back onto the bed and shoving your underwear aside. wetting your fingers, you worked to spread your own slick, the friction of your touch only making the ache worse.

"mmmmh — fuck fuck fuck — chaaaaan," you whimpered into the mattress, your voice cracking as you shoved the silicone deep, trying to mimic the heavy, rhythmic stretch you craved. in delusion of taking him in one go, impressing him, what slipped your mind was the amount of time that had passed.

you didn't hear the front door.

you didn't hear the heavy thud of his gym bag.

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

as chan unlocked the door of the apartment, he couldn't help but think about the last time he had seen you, let aside talk. as he walked past your bedroom door, he froze. a series of sounds filtered through the wood—stifled, breathless moans, to be precise.

he knew he should walk away.

he knew he shouldn't linger by your door.

he knew he definitely shouldn't look for the slight, accidental gap in the doorframe.

but it didn't stop him.

and how fucking glad he was for that lapse in judgement.

because the view that met him was nothing short of ethereal.

you were sprawled on the bed, hands between your plush thighs. he watched in awe, as your juices dripped onto the sheets from your glistening folds.

you were burying a dildo deep inside your pussy.

well, 'burying' was an understatement — you were ramming the silicone into your cunt, your hips arching off the mattress as you babbled something incoherent into the pillows. your expression was a blurred mask of ecstasy and ache, hanging somewhere between heaven and hell.

chan stood rooted to the spot, his lungs burning as he tried to catch the broken syllables falling from your lips. he strained to listen, his heart hammering against his ribs until — finally — the sound crystallized.

"—aaan, ch-chan—oh fuuuck—nghhhh," your muffled moans tore through the quiet of the room.

the realisation hit him like a physical blow.

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

chan had spent weeks wondering why you were so painfully shy around him. he had seen you with your friends — laughing, vibrant, and quick-witted. he had even sat in the back of the lecture hall during your last debate, watching in awe as you stood perfectly confident, articulate, and eloquent.

so why did you turn into a mumbling, avoiding mess the second he entered a room? why did your words always fail you when it came to him?

looking at you now, hearing the way you sobbed his name into the mattress, the answer finally clicked.

you weren't afraid of him.

you were starving for him.

the same girl who sat in the library for hours, head tucked over a textbook, was now squirming at the thought of him over her.

the same girl who spoke with such fierce intelligence at the debate podium was currently ruining herself to the thought of him railing her into oblivion.

the same girl who had become a ghost in their shared home was moaning his name into a lonely mattress.

the same girl chan had fallen for was shoving a dildo inside herself, wishing it was him.

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

yes — chan had fallen. hard.

at first, it had been simple, friendly affection. but then he saw the quiet, caring way you moved through his life. he noticed the way you’d bring him coffee without being asked, the way you genuinely listened when he talked about his day, and how you kept the apartment feeling like a home. you would cook his favorite meals when he was stressed and tell him to rest in that soft, sweet voice of yours whenever he overdid it at the gym.

then, weeks ago, he had heard a faint moan through the walls. it had been the most intoxicating sound he’d ever heard. ever since that night, he had been haunted by it, silently praying that one day, you would finally let his name slip past your lips in that same tone.

that day had finally come.

and chan was beyond elated.

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

he slowly moved into the room and settled on the chair opposite to the bed. his hand subconsciously moved to his bulge, as he drank in the sights of you. oblivious to this audience, you continued to chase your peak, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back.

all of a sudden, the dildo — absolutely covered in your slick — slipped out of your hand.

your eyes flew open as you reached out for it, but the breath left your lungs the moment you saw him. you were met with chan's sultry gaze locked onto you — or rather — onto your cunt.

"c-chan," you scrambled to sit upright gasping as you squeezed your thighs shut and snatched the discarded blanket to cover yourself. you fumbled the toy behind your back, your heart hammering against your ribs. "w-what are you d-doing here ?"

"i heard a sound — my name," he rasped, his voice vibrating with hunger, "my name — dropping from your lips."

"i-it's n-not what it l-looks like —,' you stuttered, as you tried to claw back some shred of dignity.

"what is it then, sweetheart ?" he purred, as he rose from the chair with a fluid, lethal grace, closing the distance between the seat and the edge of your mattress.

you tried to scramble for an excuse — any lie that could explain why you were moaning his name in the dark — but every thought evaded you. under the weight of his stare, your mind was totally blank. when the silence stretched on, his eyebrow quirked up, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"i'll tell you sweetheart — ," chan breathed raggedly, coming to hover over you that made you instinctively shrink back into the pillows. his hand reached out behind your back to retrieve the pink silicone, slippery from being buried in your pussy for so long. he brought it up, holding it inches from your face, "you were stuffing your sweet little pussy with this, imagining it was me who was thrusting into you, weren't you ?"

a hot, involuntary blush crept up your neck as your breath hitched. it was maddening — how were you more on edge from his words alone than you had been with the toy ? your brain was short-circuiting, unable to fathom a single lie.

you whispered, "m-maybe — ", holding your breath in hopes of easing the tension in the room.

"aww — i'll give you the real thing, sweetheart," he cooed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "but i need a promise."

at this point, you would have given him your soul, if he had asked for it.

"i need you to throw this thing away, hm ? — ," he said, tossing the pink silicone aside with a dull thud against the carpet, "— if you need anything in that pretty pussy, you come straight to me. i'll give you anything you need — my fingers, my tongue, my cock — okay sweetheart ?"

every word in your vocabulary evaporated instantly. the only thing left in your brain was a frantic, rhythmic yes-yes-yes-yes-yes. you nodded quickly, your body practically vibrating with the need for him to follow through.

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

to chan, you were fucking adorable. even in the most compromising situation of your life, you were all pink and bashful, staring at your hands like they were the most interesting thing on the planet.

"you'll be the death of me — you know that ?" he groaned, a softness lacing his words, his head thrown back, the veins in his neck strained as he fought for a shred of his own self-control.

you were hit with another bout of shyness, unable to meet his gaze. you felt raw, exposed, and entirely at his mercy. he leaned forward, the mattress dipping under his weight. one hand reached out to tenderly cup your face, his palm warm against your flushed skin, while his other hand found the curve of your waist, anchoring you to him.

"can i kiss you, sweetheart?" he murmured, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

you whispered, "y-yes, please".

chan tasted like coffee and raspberries — a sharp, sweet addiction. his lips met yours in a searing kiss that swallowed your gasp whole. as your mouths moved in tandem, your skin prickled with a sudden, electric heat. when his tongue swept into your mouth, you couldn't help but arch into him, seeking more of that friction. his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his solid frame as your tongues swirled together in a feverish dance. he caught your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it until you were dizzy.

the kiss broke, but only so his lips could trail a path down your throat. you bared your neck for him, your head falling back as you exhaled a shaky, broken breath.

then, the hand cupping your jaw began its slow, torturous descent. it traveled down your abdomen, the heat of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt until he hiked it up, baring you to the cool air. the second his bare skin finally made contact with your dripping heat, you went dizzy with pleasure.

"oh fuuuuuuuuck", chan growled sinfully, gazing at you as your juices coated his fingers, "is this all for me — sweetheart?"

"y-yes channie —", you mewled desperately, the nickname slipping out in a desperate, broken breath as your hips bucked into him instinctively, " — all f'you, always."

"such a needy fucking baby" chan chuckled, softly tapping your cunt before abruptly pulling his hand away, making you whine audibly.

before you could beg protest, you heard the sound of a zipper sliced through the air. you watched mesmerized as chan discarded his denim and shirt in a few fluid motions, standing before you in nothing but his boxers.

you were certain you were drooling.

while you were busy worshiping his immaculate frame with your eyes, chan moved. he gripped your thighs with a strength that left no room for argument, dragging you toward him until you were perched at the very edge of the mattress. then, he reached into his boxers and freed himself.

the dildo had been a joke. a pale, static imitation.

he was jacked.

his cock was heavy and stone-hard, already weeping a bead of stray precum that you desperately wanted to catch with your tongue. the sight of the broad mushroom tip and the thick, pulsing vein mapping the underside was enough to make your brain malfunction.

chan bent forward, his fingers firm as he grasped your chin and tilted your head back. your lips met in a ferocious, hungry kiss—one that tasted of long-overdue desperation. while he kept you anchored to his mouth, his other hand worked the buttons of your shirt with a frantic precision. when the fabric finally gave way, freeing your breasts, he pulled back just enough to swallow hard at the sight.

"you're out of this world," he whispered, reverantly, as he pressed sweet kisses to your breasts, sucking and biting at the nipples, " just ethereal, sweetheart."

as he leaned over you, his cock grazed against your wet pussy. the contact was electric, a sliding friction that made you bite your lip so hard you tasted copper as you struggled to hold back a shattered moan.

"ch-chan, p-please—p-pleaseeee," you nearly sobbed, your body trembling because he was right there, so close, yet still not where you needed him to be.

"you look so pretty begging — fuck — i'll give it to you, yea ? baby has been so good — fuck, such a good, patient baby."  he gripped his length, deliberately rubbing the broad head against your sensitive folds, making you squirm and whimper against the sheets.

"can you take it, sweetheart?," his silky voice wrapped around you, "can your little pussy really take all of me ?"

oh he would be the cause of your fucking demise — you were certain.

you choked back a sob, a desperate whine vibrating in your throat, "mmmh yesss — p-practised for you c-channie — p-practised to take y-you in one go."

chan’s breath hitched, and for a second, he looked like he was about to cum just from your words.

you had practiced.

for him.

he swore in that moment, he was hopelessly in love.

"yeah ? thank you, sweetheart," he cooed, his eyes darkening with a mix of affection and raw lust. he caressed your lower lip, slipping his thumb inside your mouth, and you instinctively parted your lips to take him in. "shall we put that practice to use now ?"

"fuckfuckfuckfuck — jesus fucking christ — you're so wet, baby, so good" chan groaned as he thrust into you, his cock diving into your wet cunt and good god, your soul might just have ascended. the stretch was agonizingly perfect and his veins provided a friction against your walls that no silicone could ever replicate.

"s'big s'big  — nnnnnnnghh — so fuckin' big c-channie," you sobbed, suckling desperately on his thumb as your nails dug crescents in his shoulders.

"yea ? feels good sweetheart, hm ?" he grunted, panting as he continued to slam his cock into you. he used both hands to wrench your thighs even wider, making sure he could bottom out with every punishing, beautiful thrust.

"so good c-channie — ca-can feel you in my stomach — ohhhh goddd," you moaned loudly, breathless with the feeling of him against your fucking cervix.

with every thrust, you could slowly feel the coil of pleasure tighten in your abdomen. clinging harder to him, you frantically mewled, "c-close chan — fuuuuuck — i'm g-gonna c-cummmm."

the confession was all the motivation he needed. he sped up, hitting you with an unparalleled force that made the headboard rattle against the wall. he could feel his own orgasm looming as your walls began to pulse, sucking him in with a desperate, rhythmic grip.

"cum for me sweetheart, give it to me," chan panted, as he felt you tightening around him, "just like that baby, cream my cock — fucking christ —  yes baby, yes."

the coil finally snapped. a blinding wave of pleasure enveloped you as your orgasm hit, your internal muscles clenching around him in a frantic, liquid sequence. you felt chan’s pace falter, his breath hitching as he reached his own limit.

" sweetheart, my baby — fuuuuuck i'm close." he huffed, his grip on your thighs tightening until his knuckles were white.

"give it to me channie — need your cum in me, baby — please pleaseeee," you whimpered, craddling his face in your hands.

you egged him on, your voice a broken whisper as you helped him chase the peak.

chan looked down into your eyes, his gaze softening with a sudden, overwhelming heat as he saw you smiling through tear-stained eyes and swollen lips. the sight was his undoing. fire pooled in his abdomen and he let out a low, guttural growl as his cum spurted inside you, coating your walls. you couldn't help but feel your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you felt him fill you to the brim.

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

the silence was heavy, broken only by both of you trying to catch your breath. chan lingered for a minute, his forehead resting against yours, before he slowly pulled out.

the loss of him was immediate, and you couldn't help the small, needy whine that came out as he moved. you just lay there, dazed, watching as a mess of him and you started to coat your thighs.

"i've got you, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice still low and raspy.

he grabbed a warm, damp washcloth from the bathroom. he took his time cleaning you up, his hands gentle as he wiped your skin. he was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered — and for him, you were.

when you were finally tucked under the covers together, chan pulled you into his chest. his thumb was just tracing patterns on your skin as your hands carded through his hair.

"you know i've wanted you for a long time, right?" he said, his voice low. "the coffee, the snacks — i-i was trying to get your attention." you hid your face in his neck. "it worked. clearly." he chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest. "good. because i've been losing my mind living with you and not being able to touch you."

chan pulled back just enough to look at you. "so... we’re not just roommates anymore, right ? i want you to be my girlfriend. for real."

you looked up at him and finally smiled. "yeah. i'd like that."

"good," he whispered, leaning down to kiss you again, those dimples finally showing. "no more hiding in your room then."

taglist :

@joyracha @b4echo @zosauce @yourghostneighbor @eyyyylucieeee @sweetheartforus @quokkahansung @minniebitesfr @nanaluizam @pineapple-burgah @lynsbng @shiningnono @pixiiebutt @lynsbng @spiidergirlsworld @mylovchris @moch3rii @binniebb @nougatjade

if your username is in pink, i cannot tag you for some reason so kindly check your settings and comment for taglist again !

join taglist here

@kloversung 2026

[midnightpaperco]

ACT II - Summer Heat

Chapter 10: Summer Festival

Summer arrives the way spring never quite did.

It crashes into Eva's life with heat and color and noise, with cicadas buzzing like a held breath finally released, with banners strung across lampposts and lanterns glowing soft gold against the dusk. The coastal town sheds its quiet and blooms into something restless, alive.

School has ended.

Sophomore year closes like a book she didn't finish reading.

And Eva tells herself this is supposed to feel like freedom.

Instead, it feels like standing in the middle of a firework just before it bursts.

The festival sprawls along the waterfront, lights reflected in the dark water like scattered stars. Booths line the boardwalk ring tosses, goldfish bowls, cotton candy machines breathing sugar into the air. Music floats from somewhere distant, layered with laughter and the metallic clink of prizes being won and lost.

Eva walks between her parents, her mother's arm looped through hers, her father pointing out familiar faces from town.

"Doesn't it feel good?" her mom says, smiling. "Summer again."

Eva nods, lips curving into something soft and practiced.

"It does."

The lie rests gently on her tongue.

Her chest aches faintly not sharp, not yet just a quiet pressure, like something curled up beneath her ribs, listening.

She presses her fingers into the fabric of her dress and breathes slowly.

She's learned how to do that.

She almost doesn't hear her name at first.

"Eva!"

The voice cuts through the noise, bright and unmistakable.

Yuna.

Eva turns before she can stop herself.

Yuna stands a few steps away, surrounded by a small cluster of girls all sun-kissed skin and glossy hair, laughter spilling easily from their mouths. She looks exactly how Eva remembers from school: confident, radiant, impossible to ignore. She waves, already moving closer.

"Oh my god," Yuna says, eyes lighting up. "I didn't know you were coming!"

Eva smiles, polite and quiet. "Yeah. My parents wanted to."

"That's so cute," Yuna laughs. Then, without waiting for an answer, she hooks her arm through Eva's. "Come on, you have to walk with us. We're doing the whole thing."

Eva opens her mouth to protest.

Her mother beats her to it.

"Go," she says gently, already stepping back. "We'll be right over there if you need us."

Her father gives her a thumbs-up.

And just like that, Eva is pulled into motion.

They weave through the festival together, the group buzzing with plans and half-finished sentences.

"Are you going anywhere this summer?" one of the girls asks.

"My family's going to Jeju," Yuna says. "What about you, Eva?"

Eva hesitates. "Just... here."

"That's still fun," Yuna says easily. "Beach days, late nights, no homework."

No homework.

No distractions.

Just time.

Eva nods, pretending she doesn't feel her chest tighten at the thought.

They stop at a booth selling candied fruit, the sugar crackling as it cools. Eva listens as the conversation shifts — boys, summer crushes, teasing laughter.

"So," Yuna says casually, glancing at Eva from the corner of her eye, "Seungmin's team is probably coming later."

The name hits Eva like a dropped glass.

She keeps her expression calm.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. They were talking about celebrating the end of the season." Yuna smiles, a little shy now. "I think they're finishing practice first."

Eva hums, noncommittal.

Her throat feels dry.

She tells herself it's just the heat.

They're near the pier when it happens.

The sudden shift in the air.

The way the crowd parts just slightly, attention drawn like a tide.

Eva feels it before she sees him.

Seungmin walks toward them with a few of his teammates

Minho and Changbin among them baseball caps pulled low, laughter easy and unguarded. He looks different out of uniform, looser, lighter. Summer suits him. The warm air, the open sky.

His eyes sweep the crowd.

Then they find her.

He slows.

Just a fraction.

But Eva sees it.

Their gazes lock, and something unspoken stretches between them — thin, fragile, aching.

He smiles.

Not the wide grin he gives his teammates.

Not the easy charm he offers everyone else.

This one is softer.

For her.

Her heart stutters.

Yuna notices immediately.

"Seungmin!" she calls, waving.

He blinks, attention snapping back into place, and walks over.

"Hey," he says, voice warm, familiar. "Didn't know you were coming tonight."

Eva swallows. "My parents dragged me."

He smiles at that, then looks like he wants to say something else something just for her but Minho cuts in, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"Festival food, man," Minho says. "I'm starving."

Changbin laughs. "Let's win something."

The group shifts again, moving toward the game booths.

Eva follows because she doesn't know how not to.

The goldfish booth smells like damp wood and salt, lantern light reflecting off shallow water that ripples every time someone laughs too loudly or splashes their paper scoop too hard.

Eva stands just outside the circle.

She always does.

Yuna is in front of Seungmin now, sleeves rolled up, dark hair pulled back as she leans over the tub, concentration written clearly across her face. She laughs when her scoop tears, dramatic and unbothered, tossing it aside.

"Okay, that one doesn't count," Yuna says, grinning.

Seungmin laughs with her — that bright, open laugh Eva knows by heart. The one that used to belong to her alone. The one that sounds like summer itself.

"Pretty sure it counts," Minho says from behind them. "You just lost."

Yuna sticks her tongue out at him, then glances back at Seungmin. "Buy me another one?"

He does. Of course he does.

Eva's chest tightens.

Not sharply. Not enough to bring the petals yet.

Just enough to remind her they're still there.

She presses her fingers together, nails biting lightly into her palm, grounding herself in the sensation.

She should be enjoying this.

She used to.

She remembers when she and Seungmin were kids, running through these same festival stalls with sticky fingers and flushed cheeks, when he'd won her a goldfish once, holding the tiny plastic bag up like a trophy.

You have to name it, he'd said.

You can't just let it be a fish.

She named it Star.

It lived for three days.

"Eva!"

Yuna's voice pulls her back.

"You wanna try?" Yuna asks, stepping aside to make room. "You're good with delicate stuff, right?"

Eva blinks, surprised. "I—"

Seungmin looks at her then.

Really looks.

Her heart stutters.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "You should."

There's something in his eyes hope, maybe. Or longing. Or guilt. She doesn't know anymore. She just knows the way he watches her feels heavier than it used to.

She steps forward.

The scoop feels fragile in her hand. Too thin. Too easily torn.

She leans over the water, breath shallow, focus narrowing until there's nothing but the slow movement of the fish, their bright flashes of orange and white.

Her chest tightens again.

She lowers the scoop carefully, steady, gentle.

For a moment, she thinks she might succeed.

Then the scoop tears.

The fish slips away.

Eva laughs softly, more reflex than joy. "Guess I lost too."

Yuna groans dramatically. "This booth is cursed."

Seungmin smiles at Eva.

"You almost had it," he says. "You were always good at stuff like that."

Always.

The word lingers between them.

She nods, stepping back again. Back into her place at the edge.

They wander after that through rows of food stalls and game booths, laughter and conversation weaving together in a way that feels effortless.

Eva listens more than she speaks.

Yuna talks about beach trips and late nights and boys who text too much or not enough. Minho complains about training schedules. Changbin argues about the best street food like it's a life-or-death matter.

Seungmin walks close enough that Eva can feel his presence without touching him.

Sometimes their shoulders brush.

Each time it happens, her breath catches.

Once, when the crowd tightens near the cotton candy stand, his hand finds her wrist instinctively, fingers warm and familiar as he pulls her out of the press of bodies.

She doesn't pull away.

For one fragile second, everything feels like it used to.

Then Yuna loops her arm through his, laughing about something Minho said, and the moment shatters.

Eva steps back.

Her chest burns.

Not yet.

Not here.

They stop near the edge of the festival grounds as dusk settles fully into night. The sky darkens to deep blue, stars blinking into existence one by one. Paper lanterns glow brighter, casting everything in soft amber light.

A countdown echoes from somewhere near the stage.

Fireworks.

Eva tilts her head back, eyes stinging.

The first explosion blooms overhead pink and white, bursting open like flowers against the dark sky.

Too close.

Too familiar.

Her throat tightens.

She presses her lips together, swallowing hard.

Another burst.

Pink again.

She tastes something faint and metallic at the back of her tongue.

No.

She focuses on the noise instead of the way the crowd gasps, the way Yuna cheers, the way Seungmin's breath catches beside her.

She risks a glance at him.

He isn't looking at the sky.

He's looking at her.

His brows are drawn together slightly, worry shadowing his expression. Like he's noticing the way her shoulders are too tense, the way her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, leaning closer so no one else can hear.

Her heart lurches.

She forces a laugh, light and easy. "Yeah. Just—fireworks make me emotional."

He doesn't look convinced.

Another explosion lights the sky.

Pink. White. Soft.

She feels it then the petal brushing the inside of her lip, delicate and terrifying all at once.

Her breath stutters.

She turns away quickly, pretending to adjust her hair, pretending to wipe something from her mouth.

She swallows.

It goes down.

Barely.

Her chest aches afterward, like a warning.

The fireworks continue, each burst painting memories across the sky — summer nights, shared laughter, a childhood promise she doesn't remember making but knows exists somewhere inside her.

Seungmin watches her through it all, heart heavy with something he doesn't yet understand.

He wishes absurdly, painfully that he were standing closer. That she was laughing with him the way she used to. That the space between them didn't feel like something growing instead of shrinking.

When the final firework fades, the crowd applauds, voices rising and falling like waves.

Eva exhales shakily.

She made it through.

Barely.

Yuna stretches, smiling. "I'm gonna grab a drink. Anyone else?"

They scatter briefly, conversations overlapping as people drift toward different stalls.

Eva stays where she is.

So does Seungmin.

The silence between them feels louder than the fireworks.

"You don't have to stay if you're not feeling well," he says softly.

She shakes her head. "I'm okay."

A lie.

A small one.

He hesitates, then nods. "Okay."

They stand side by side, not touching, both wishing they were brave enough to close the distance.

Eva's chest tightens again not enough to bloom, but enough to remind her the petals are still there, waiting.

Summer is only beginning.

And already, it's burning her alive.

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

[midnightpaperco]

Chapter 9: Spring Rain

The last week of spring arrives quietly, slipping into the world like a shy apology. The air carries that soft sweetness that only comes when seasons hesitate, hovering between fullness and farewell. Wind moves through the courtyard in warm breaths, scattering the final cherry blossoms across walkways and sneaker soles.

Eva feels each shift in the weather as if her body is made of thin glass.

Every breeze catches at her lungs.

Every scent of blossoms scrapes like a remembered bruise.

She's tired.

Not the normal tired that comes from late night study sessions or skipped breakfasts. This is the kind that lives deep, bone deep, blooming in the shadows beneath her ribs. She hasn't slept more than fragments in days. When she closes her eyes, she coughs. When she coughs, she bleeds. And when she bleeds, she buries the petals like shame in the back of her sketchbook.

She tells herself she's fine.

She tells herself this is temporary.

She tells herself she can outrun the ache.

But the ache is patient. And it knows her name.

Art class smells like turpentine and wet leaves and the familiar whisper of acrylic drying. It's her sanctuary, usually. Today, it feels like a room she can't quite breathe in.

Everyone else has already left for lunch. The bell rang almost ten minutes ago, but she stayed behind to clean brushes, her mind drifting somewhere far from the sink and the steady stream of water.

Her fingers are stiff around the brush handles. Her movements have slowed, the room wobbling softly around the edges like watercolor bleeding where it shouldn't.

She tries to blink the dizziness away.

Tries to tell herself she only needs a moment.

Just one breath.

But that breath never comes.

A pressure expands in her chest.

Sharp. Sudden. Blinding.

She grips the edge of the sink, knuckles whitening. The world tilts, her vision flickering. Colors smear. The hum of the ventilation fan warps into something distant and wrong.

Then the cough hits.

It rips through her without warning, violent enough that she stumbles, hand flying to her mouth.

She coughs again.

Then again.

Something warm spills into her palm.

Petals.

Crushed.

Red pooling at their centers like spilled secrets.

She gasps, or tries to, but the room spins harder. The light overhead flickers. Her knees buckle.

Her last thought before the darkness swallows her is simple, soft, terrified:

Please... not here.

"Eva?"

His voice reaches her first.

A trembling, frayed whisper of her name.

"Eva. Hey—Eva, wake up..."

She swims toward consciousness like she's moving through water, slow and disoriented. Her eyelids feel heavy. Her body feels wrong, as if someone unplugged the sun from her bones.

She blinks.

Light settles into shapes.

The world isn't the art room anymore.

Nurse's office.

White sheets.

Sterile air.

A faint lemon-disinfectant smell that burns in her nose.

And next to her, bent forward in a chair he clearly dragged too close to the bed:

Seungmin.

His hand hovers over hers but doesn't quite touch, like he's afraid she'll vanish if he reaches too quickly. His face is pale, eyes wide and swollen with worry.

He looks like someone holding the aftermath of a nightmare.

When their eyes meet, he lets out a breath that sounds like a prayer breaking open.

"Thank god," he whispers. "Eva... you scared me."

She swallows. Her throat burns raw.

She tries to sit up. Bad idea. The room lurches.

He's there in an instant, gentle hand on her shoulder. Warm. Steady. Too familiar.

"Slow," he murmurs, voice soft enough to sting. "You collapsed. I— I found you on the floor in the art room."

Her heart plummets.

Found her.

Found her.

Her fingers twitch toward her sleeve instinctively, where she had shoved the petals the moment she heard his footsteps rushing in. She can feel the faint dampness against her skin. The faint weight of her secret crumpled and hidden away.

He didn't see.

He must not have.

She couldn't survive him seeing.

"What... what happened?" he asks.

She forces a weak smile. Like always. Stitched from habit and fear.

"I think I skipped breakfast," she lies. "And stood up too fast."

He doesn't buy it. She can see it in the crease between his brows, in the way his jaw tenses like it's trying to swallow every unspoken worry.

"That wasn't fainting," he says quietly. "You weren't breathing right. You were— Eva, you were so pale I thought—"

He breaks off, looking away, swallowing hard.

For a moment she forgets how to breathe, but not because of the sickness.

Because of him.

Because even now, even when she tries so hard to push distance between them, he's still here looking at her like she's something precious on the verge of shattering.

She hates how much she loves that.

The nurse steps in then, clipboard in hand, voice brisk, unaware of the emotional gravity in the room.

"Eva, sweetheart, you gave us a scare," she says. "No fever. Blood pressure low. Likely dehydration and stress. But you need to slow down. Overworking yourself at school isn't worth collapsing over."

Stress.

If only it were that simple.

The nurse gives Seungmin a grateful nod.

"Good thing your friend found you when he did."

Friend.

That word bruises her ribs.

She forces her expression not to change.

The nurse leaves with a promise to bring water.

The door clicks shut.

Silence settles between them like frost.

Seungmin drags his chair even closer. His knees almost touch the bed frame.

He leans in, voice barely above a whisper.

"You weren't answering my calls."

Her breath stops.

He's looking at her like he wants the truth.

He's looking at her like he could handle it.

He's wrong.

"I've been busy," she says softly.

He doesn't look away. "You've been avoiding me."

She feels the petals in her sleeve shift when she exhales, a quiet rustle like guilt.

"I haven't."

"Eva."

Just her name.

But he says it with so much gentle certainty it feels like he's holding her by the pulse.

She looks down at her hands. The skin of her wrist is slightly stained pink. Not enough to see unless someone was looking closely.

He is.

Before he can ask anything else, she tucks her sleeve deeper under her palm.

"I'm just tired," she whispers.

His eyes soften.

Not with pity.

With something warmer. Something that hurts more.

"You could have told me."

His voice cracks just slightly. "I miss you."

Her chest seizes, a sharp twist beneath her ribs.

The petals shift again, almost accusing.

She swallows back the cough threatening to climb up her throat.

"I'm fine," she lies again.

"You collapsed," he says, a little louder. "That's not fine."

He's frustrated. Not angry. Frustrated because he cares. Because he always has. Because even after she confessed and he froze, even after she pulled away, even after she let his calls ring into silence... he's still here.

Still choosing her.

That hurts more than anything.

"It was nothing," she whispers.

Seungmin scrubs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "It wasn't nothing. I thought—"

He stops himself again.

His hands curl into fists on his knees.

He looks young like this. Scared.

Something inside her breaks a little more.

The nurse returns with water, and the moment shifts.

Seungmin steps back.

Eva drinks slowly.

He watches every movement, every breath.

When the nurse steps out again, the room feels too quiet, too fragile.

"You can't keep doing this," he says softly.

Her fingers tremble around the cup.

"Doing what?"

"Disappearing."

She closes her eyes.

She wishes she could tell him everything.

About the petals.

The choke of blossoms.

The way her chest feels like a battlefield.

How love shouldn't kill, but somehow hers is blooming like a wound.

She wishes she could give him the truth.

But the truth would ruin everything.

And she's already ruined enough.

"I'm sorry," she says instead.

His shoulders fall.

"I don't want sorry," he murmurs. "I just want you back."

The words hit her like rain hitting cracked pavement, soft but devastating.

Her throat tightens. The petals in her sleeve feel like burning secrets against her skin.

A cough rises suddenly, violently, and she clamps her hand over her mouth, eyes squeezing shut.

Seungmin jolts forward. "Eva? Hey—are you okay?"

She nods quickly, even as the cough shakes her whole body.

Even as the petals press harder to escape.

She forces it down. Swallows the pain. Holds everything inside until the urge passes.

When she opens her eyes, he's inches from her.

Too close.

Too warm.

Too much.

His hand hovers near her cheek but doesn't touch.

"I'm scared for you," he whispers.

Her breath stutters.

"You don't have to be."

"Yes," he says softly. "I do."

Something in the room tilts.

Time slows.

Rain begins tapping lightly against the nurse's office window, the spring sky darkening as clouds gather overhead.

Seungmin looks like a boy caught under the downpour of something he can't name.

Eva looks like a girl pretending she isn't drowning.

Lightning cracks somewhere deep inside her chest, but she forces her expression to stay calm.

She pulls her sleeve lower.

Hides the petals.

Hides the truth.

Hides herself.

The rain outside thickens into a steady curtain.

The growing distance between them emotional, physical, inevitable feels like a third presence in the room. A quiet ghost folding its hands across both their shoulders.

"You should go to practice," she says gently.

"I don't care about practice."

"You should."

"I'll stay."

"You don't need to."

"I want to."

Her heart aches.

Maybe in another world, she would let him stay

In this one, loving him is killing her.

And he has no idea.

She turns her face away, looking at the window. Rain slides down the glass like falling petals.

"Seungmin," she says quietly, "please... go."

He stares at her for a long moment. Long enough that she wonders if he can see the lie trembling on her mouth. Long enough that she wonders if he can hear the petals rustling faintly inside her sleeve.

But finally, painfully, he nods.

"Call me when you get home," he murmurs.

She nods, though they both know she won't.

He walks to the door. Pauses. Looks back.

"Don't disappear again," he says softly. "I mean it."

Then he leaves.

The door closes behind him with a soft click.

The moment he's gone, the cough rips through her again.

Harder.

Ugly.

Desperate.

She bends over the sheets, muffling it as best she can.

Petals spill onto the white sheet.

Pink blooming into red.

Red blooming into fear.

She gathers them quickly with shaking hands, shoves them into her sleeve before the nurse returns, and presses her forehead against her knees.

Outside, the spring sky opens.

Rain falls like confession.

Inside, Eva closes her eyes and tries not to break apart.

But oh

it's getting harder.

Much harder.

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

[midnightpaperco]

Chapter 8: Late Night Calls

The week after the rumors about Seungmin and Yuna feels like being trapped inside a snow globe someone won't stop shaking. Everything inside Eva rattles. Nothing settles. She wakes every morning already exhausted, already bracing herself for the day, already imagining petals gathering in her throat like secrets begging to escape.

School halls feel louder than usual. Girls cluster in tight circles, whispering behind hands, giggling, sharing TikToks, swapping more rumors, more theories. Boys shove each other near lockers, the slap of palms and laughter echoing.

Somewhere in the noise, Seungmin's name always slips through.

"Did you see him walk Yuna to class yesterday?"

"They'd be such a cute couple."

"I heard she's definitely into him."

"And he didn't deny it."

Every word feels like a thumb pressed into a bruise.

Eva keeps her head down, sketchbook hugged to her chest like a shield. Her breaths stay shallow, careful. She's terrified of what might come up if she inhales too deeply. Terrified of coughing at the wrong time. Terrified of someone seeing.

She's gotten good at hiding pain, but she's not sure how much longer her ribs will hold it.

Seungmin notices her slipping away. She can feel it in the way he watches her sometimes, like he's trying to solve a puzzle he didn't realize he misplaced.

The distance has grown into a creature of its own. It lives in the hallways between classes, curled in corners of shared silence, pacing the space between every glance they pretend they don't feel.

He tries. She knows he does.

Little things. Soft hellos. Lingering looks. That small half-smile he only ever gave her, the one that could crumple her whole soul with how gentle it was.

The space between them stretches.

Sharp.

Thin.

Invisible.

Cutting.

But she can't meet his eyes these days. Her chest tightens too quickly. Her breaths get shallow. Her hand trembles without permission, and she finds herself pressing her palm to her sternum like she's trying to hold something inside before it spills.

Because it will spill.

Because it already has.

And because she knows one look from him could break her clean in two.

So she does what she has always done when feelings grow too loud: she hides. Behind books. Behind sketching. Behind the ceramic mug, she pretends to sip from just to avoid talking. Behind her locked bedroom door where she can cough petals into her hands without someone hearing the way it steals her breath.

She thinks if she ignores it, it'll fade. Diseases vanish. Crushes die. Hearts learn how to scar.

But this? This is a god with teeth.

And every night it devours a little more.

When her door is closed and the house is quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator downstairs, Eva coughs into her palms. More petals. Softer than before. Pink with faint red streaks, fragile as moth wings.

She keeps telling herself she's fine.

That's the lie she wraps around her ribs. She gathers them like they're evidence of a crime she committed against herself, folds them in tissue paper, and tucks them into her sketchbook between two charcoal portraits she drew of Seungmin months ago. Back when everything between them lived in bright, easy light.

Back when looking at him didn't feel like an open wound masked as longing.

The evening starts quietly, soft and ordinary. That should have been the first warning, she thinks later, because nothing stays gentle around the things you're terrified to feel.

She's lying on her bed, ceiling lit with the warm buttery glow of her fairy lights. A half-finished page lies open beside her, her pencil fallen where she dropped it when her chest tightened earlier. The petals she coughed up tonight sit in the sketchbook like pressed confessions she's too afraid to burn.

Her phone buzzes across the blanket.

She expects a notification from her mother.

But her heart stops mid-beat when the name lights up the screen.

Seungmin.

Her body reacts before her mind does. Breath caught. Spine tensed. Pulse climbing fast enough she can feel it ringing behind her ears.

He's calling.

Calling.

Not texting. Not leaving a quiet passing greeting. Not pretending he hasn't noticed the way she's been disappearing from him piece by piece.

He's reaching out across the distance.

"Don't answer," she whispers to herself, because her heart is already sprinting and she's afraid she'll actually collapse if she hears his voice.

But her thumb hovers over the screen anyway.

The ringtone hums low, soft, familiar. It used to be the sound of easy comfort. It used to mean a night full of laughing until her stomach hurt, of his voice settling something deep inside her she didn't even know needed settling.

"Eva?" he'd say, quiet and warm. "You awake? I wanna tell you something stupid."

God, she misses him.

She hates how much she misses him.

The phone vibrates again.

She feels it everywhere.

Almost without thinking, she lifts it.

Her thumb is one breath, one tremble, one foolish hope from sliding the green button.

I miss you, she wants to say.

I miss us.

I'm scared something in me is breaking because of you, but I still want you close.

But then the cough hits.

Sharp. Violent. Like her lungs are folding in on themselves.

She clamps a hand over her mouth. The phone slips from her fingers and hits the blankets with a muted thud.

The second cough wrenches free.

Then a third.

Then petals spill into her trembling hand. A cluster of pale pink stained darker in the center, the red spreading like a bruise across each delicate fold.

Her breath shatters.

Not just petals this time.

Color. More color than before.

She stares at them, drenched in the soft lamplight, and feels something deep inside her twist like a blade.

This is getting worse.

She knows it.

And still... she wants to answer him.

Her hand hovers over the screen again, shaking. Her heartbeat is a frantic thing, a trapped bird slamming against her ribs.

His name blinks at her, waiting.

But she can't speak.

Not like this.

Not while her throat tastes like blood and blossoms.

Not while her feelings are screaming loud enough to tear open the seams she's been stitching together every day.

So she lets it ring.

And ring.

And ring.

Until the call ends.

The silence after is crushing.

Her chest aches in a way deeper than the petals, sharper than the disease, heavier than any heartbeat should ever feel.

She wipes her hand on her blanket, smearing the faint red stain hidden in the folds, and curls onto her side, arms wrapped around herself tight enough to keep from shaking.

Her phone lights up again.

A message this time.

Seungmin:

Hey... I just wanted to hear your voice.

I miss you.

Call me when you can, okay?

Tears burn behind her eyes.

He misses her.

Of course he does. He's always been soft where she is quiet, gentle where she is guarded. He's the kind of person who notices when someone's missing, even when they try to leave without making a sound.

But she's not missing.

She's drowning.

She types nothing back.

Deletes the draft she doesn't remember starting.

Turns her phone face down on the sheets.

Outside, the night hums low, the world moving unbothered and unaware.

Inside, Eva bites her trembling lip, presses a palm to her heart, and closes her eyes as more petals bloom in the darkness behind her ribs.

She knows the truth now.

The distance isn't the worst part.

It's the way her whole body aches for him anyway.

It's the way her hands still move like they're ready to reach for him.

It's the way his name feels like a prayer she's terrified to speak.

And it's the way she lets the phone stay silent.

Because answering him would mean letting him see her breaking.

And she doesn't know how to survive that.

Not yet.

Not while the petals keep coming.

Not while her heart keeps choosing him.

Not while loving him feels like a wound she keeps reopening just to feel alive.

Tonight, she lets it ring.

Tomorrow, she might pretend it didn't.

But for now?

She curls into herself, holds the petals like secrets, and wishes the ache didn't feel so much like love.

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

[midnightpaperco]

Chapter 7: Whispers of Someone Else

This week begins with gray clouds curled low over the coastal town, the kind of sky that feels heavy enough to bruise. The air holds a damp chill, carrying the scent of seaweed and wet pavement, and cherry blossoms shiver on their branches as if spring itself is trying not to cry.

Eva walks through it with her hood up, sketchbook pressed to her side, every step soft, quiet, careful.

Her chest aches, The petals last night were worse, softer, wetter.

It scared her.

But she stuffed them between pages anyway, flattening evidence into silence. Pretending control where she has none.

Pretending she's fine.

Pretending she doesn't feel him slipping through her fingers like wind.

School hallways buzz with their usual swarm of voices. But today, the sound feels thinner, sharper, like every conversation is a blade catching on her skin.

Eva opens her locker, tucking her sketchbook gently inside. She adjusts her scarf, pulling it higher over her neck, hoping it hides the way she's been swallowing pain like it's routine.

Behind her, voices float.

High. Bright. Careless.

Girls from the dance team.

"...told you, Yuna totally has a chance—"

"Because Seungmin looked right at her during lunch on Friday—"

"And she told me he helped her carry her books after practice—"

"He never does that for anyone."

A chorus of gasps and delighted squeals.

Eva freezes.

Her fingers curl into the metal of her locker door, knuckles whitening.

Another voice chimes in lower, more skeptical but soaked in curiosity.

"But do you think he actually likes her?"

The first girl giggles. "Why else would he be talking to her so much lately?"

Eva tries to breathe.

Her lungs feel like they're filling with seawater.

She keeps her back to them, pretending the words aren't burrowing under her ribs like hooks.

Pretending she isn't listening.

Pretending the petals last night weren't already warning her.

"Yuna said he's really sweet, you know?" another girl adds. "He even waited outside the gym with her after stretching last week."

"Wait, really?"

"Oh my god—"

"That's basically flirting."

"And she's gorgeous," someone says with a soft hum. "She'd be so good for him."

Eva grips the edge of her locker, willing her breath to stay even.

Yuna.

Tall, pretty, warm smile, glossy hair that floats when she walks. The kind of girl who draws attention without trying. The kind who fits beside Seungmin like they were sketched from the same ink.

Eva is soft colors and quiet corners.

Yuna is spotlight and summer laughter.

Seungmin might fit better in her world.

And she—

She can't blame him if he feels it too.

The locker door becomes blurry.

She blinks quickly.

Now is not the time.

Not here.

Not in the hall where people can see her shatter.

She closes her locker gently, shoulders held steady even though something inside her feels like cracking porcelain.

As she walks away, she hears one last whisper:

"Honestly... they'd look perfect together."

The words strike her like cold rain.

But she keeps walking.

She has become good at walking away from what hurts.

In the Classroom

She chooses a seat in the back again.

The one near the window.

The one far from him.

The teacher has not yet arrived. Students are talking, laughing, moving around. Their voices blend into a background hum she barely hears.

Eva pulls out her notebook, pretending to write. The page stays blank.

Her chest feels tight not enough to bloom, but heavy enough to wince. The kind of heaviness that comes from holding too much. Holding feelings that don't fit inside her anymore.

She watches cherry blossom petals drift across the courtyard outside. One catches on the windowpane and sticks there, trembling.

It looks exactly like the ones she coughed up yesterday.

She looks away.

The classroom door opens.

Her heart tries to leap but she forces it back down.

Seungmin enters.

Warm hoodie. Slightly damp hair from morning drills. A tired smile he gives everyone, easy and soft.

He looks around the room.

He sees her.

When it seems like he's coming toward her row, her breath jumps.

But he doesn't stop at her desk.

He sits in his usual seat, alone.

He doesn't say anything.

Neither does she.

It hurts anyway.

After Class

She tries to slip out quickly, but he catches her name in the hallway.

"Eva!"

Her shoulders stiffen.

She turns slowly.

He jogs up, backpack bouncing lightly. His expression is troubled, like he's been rehearsing something to say.

"Are you avoiding me again?" he asks.

She folds her arms gently across her chest. "No."

"You're lying."

It isn't angry.

It isn't sharp.

It's... sad.

She shakes her head, trying to muster a smile. "I'm just tired."

He studies her closely, eyes narrowing slightly as if he's picking apart every piece of her expression.

"You seem upset."

"I'm not."

"You didn't even look at me in class."

"I was focusing."

"You always look at me."

Her heart stumbles.

She hates how well he knows her.

She hates how much she wishes he didn't.

"I'm fine, Seung—"

"Youre not."

The softness in his voice nearly breaks her.

Her throat burns.

Not now.

Not here.

Students push past them, laughing, running, gossiping. The hallway pulses with life, absolutely oblivious to the way her lungs feel like they're slowly filling with petals again.

"I really have to go," she says quickly.

He steps back, confusion tightening the corners of his expression.

"Did I... do something wrong?"

Her breath catches.

He looks so genuinely worried.

It hurts.

It hurts more than it should.

"Of course not," she says.

Another lie slipping easily from her lips.

He swallows hard. "Then why won't you talk to me?"

Because the truth is killing her.

Because the truth is blooming inside her.

Because if she tells him she still loves him, she'll fall apart right here in the hall.

She gives him the smallest smile she can manage.

"I'll see you later."

Then she leaves before he can say anything else, before she cracks, before she coughs.

Behind her, she can feel him staring.

The distance grows again.

The cafeteria is loud today.

It's always loud around this time of year. Tournament season means excitement, noise, teammates replaying highlights from past games, students gossiping about who's dating whom.

Eva sits near the window, nibbling the edge of her sandwich but not really eating. Her stomach is too tight. Her throat too fragile.

She keeps her head lowered as she sketches lazily, not really seeing the lines. Her pencil drags softly over the page.

A cherry blossom.

Another.

Another.

She doesn't mean to draw them.

They just keep appearing.

Her chest aches.

She hears laughter from the table behind her. Loud. Clear. Familiar voices.

"Yuna and Seungmin would be so cute—"

"I know, right? They just match."

"And she's been trying to talk to him more, have you noticed?"

"He doesn't look bothered."

"Maybe he likes her back."

Eva pauses.

Her pencil stops moving.

Her fingers tremble.

She doesn't turn around. Doesn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her reaction. Her heart feels like it's folding in on itself, shrink-wrapping around every rumor until it becomes razor-sharp.

A girl's voice spikes above the others:

"I swear Yuna said he smiled at her in chemistry today."

Another giggles. "He NEVER smiles in chemistry."

"I think they're kind of... talking, you know?"

"Oh my god, stop, that's so cute!"

Her vision sways slightly.

Just a little.

She grips her pencil to steady herself.

Behind her, laughter continues, rustling and bright like spring.

Inside her, everything goes cold.

She closes her sketchbook gently, as if she's afraid the petals hidden in the earlier pages might slip out and expose her.

She gets up from the table.

Her legs feel unsteady.

She leaves the cafeteria before her lungs give out.

After school

The sky is the color of bruised peach, dimming toward lavender as she walks home. She chooses the long route, past the edge of town where the wind smells like saltwater and thin sunlight. Nobody walks here. Nobody will see her coming undone.

Her chest feels tight again.

She tries to swallow it down, tries to breathe past the pressure rising like a fist.

Not now.

Please, not now.

But the body does not care for prayers.

Eva stumbles to the side of the road, bracing a hand against the trunk of a leaning cedar tree. Her breaths come shallow, then ragged, her throat burning with something sweet and wrong.

She coughs once.

Twice.

Then it hits her like a cracked-open rib.

A flurry of petals spills from her lips, pale pink with a wet sheen. They stick to her palm, too soft, too alive, too beautiful to be anything but horrifying.

A few petals are tinged at the edges with red.

Blood.

Her knees shake.

The world blurs.

Not this.

Not so soon.

She promised herself she had time.

Eva presses the back of her hand to her mouth, fighting the next wave, swallowing the ache the way she's swallowed everything. She forces her breathing into something steady, even if it cuts.

Eventually, the petals stop.

Her throat feels raw.

Her hands smell faintly sweet.

Her eyes sting.

She kneels, gathers the petals one by one, and slips them into the sketchbook tucked under her arm. The pages are already starting to bulge from the hidden flowers inside.

A pressed garden of unspoken love.

She zips the sketchbook closed.

Locks it.

Hides it all away.

She always hides it away.

At home

Dinner is warm.

Soft light.

Quiet hum of her parents chatting about something she can't follow.

Everything is normal.

Everything is fine.

Eva smiles when spoken to.

Nods when needed.

Plays her role with practiced ease.

No one notices the way she cradles her chest when she thinks they aren't looking.

No one sees the way she swallows carefully, like her throat might tear.

No one hears the petals she coughed up in silence.

When she finally escapes to her room, she lets the door click softly shut behind her. She leans against it for a moment, eyes closed, breathing slow.

A love that hurts to hold.

A love that grows sharper the more she hides it.

A love that blooms without permission.

She pulls the sketchbook from her bag and flips it open.

The petals lie inside like little ghosts.

Pink.

Fragile.

Dying at their edges.

She touches one with a trembling fingertip.

"Stop," she whispers to herself.

She doesn't mean the petals.

She means the feelings.

But the petals don't stop.

And the feelings...

They only deepen, rooting themselves deeper into the place where her breath should be.

Outside, the coastal wind rattles the windowpane gently. Spring is in its full. The cherry blossoms bloom.

And she fears her body will bloom with them.

Meanwhile, Seungmin lies on his bed, headphones on, staring at the ceiling. His room is messy in the way boys' rooms tend to be: notebooks stacked unevenly, baseball gear tossed in corners, the faint smell of laundry detergent and pine.

He scrolls absently through his messages.

One from Minho:

"Practice tomorrow. Coach wants early drills."

One from Changbin:

"Tell me you're coming to karaoke this weekend."

One from Yuna:

Soft, short.

A smiling emoji.

Nothing big, but enough that it makes him exhale through his nose in confusion.

He doesn't understand her sometimes.

He doesn't understand the rumors either.

He definitely doesn't understand why everyone keeps shoving them together like they're puzzle pieces that obviously fit.

He tosses his phone aside.

His mind drifts back to Eva under the cherry blossom tree, her voice small when she confessed.

His own stupid, fumbling answer.

The silence afterward.

She said she was fine...

But she hasn't been fine.

He felt it today. Every time she avoided looking at him. Every moment she smiled at the wrong second. Every time her voice sounded almost too light.

Seungmin presses his palms over his face, groaning softly.

He doesn't know how to fix it.

He doesn't know how to reach her when she keeps stepping away.

He just knows something is wrong.

And he hates that he doesn't know what.

Back in Eva's room

Her lamp glows a warm, soft gold.

Her sketchbook lies open beside her on the bed.

Her pillow is damp from tears she told herself she wouldn't cry.

She curls up, knees pulled to her chest, and stares at the petals again.

Pink.

But with that faint, frightening red.

She presses a hand to her sternum.

Her heartbeat flutters like something trapped.

Something trying to bloom.

"Please stop," she whispers.

But the wind outside keeps blowing.

And the petals keep breathing in her sketchbook.

Eva feels the ache sharpen.

A love that hurts to hold.

A love that has nowhere to go.

A love that is slowly, gently, beautifully killing her.

She closes the sketchbook and switches off the light.

The darkness softens around her.

She sleeps with the weight of petals in her chest.

And the whisper of someone else's name in the air.

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

[midnightpaperco]

Now that things are easing up at work, I’m feeling inspired to write again! I'm hoping to finish several chapters for my ongoing stories and start a new story by the 25th, so I can celebrate SKZ's anniversary with a post! I apologize for ghosting — working uses up so much of my mental energy, and by the time I want to write, I’m pretty wiped out 😭

[midnightpaperco]

Hey! I saw that your requests are open, so I'd like to ask for something 😅

I don't know if you're familiar with the Resident Evil world or Leon Kennedy, but lately my brain has been wandering a lot and I can't stop associating Chan with Leon! Especially now that he's been blonde for a while and they're both gentlemen 🙂‍↕️

So, I'd like to know if you could write something about Chan with a kind of Leon Kennedy vibe (especially if it's inspired by the one from Resident Evil 4). Even if you don't know the game very well or don't feel like writing about it, thank you anyway :)

I don’t know much about Resident Evil but once i have time i will try this out!

[i6milfs]

WOMAN’S HISTORY MONTH DAY 3

Hello again everyone! My name is Arriah, and for Women’s History Month I’m spending this month highlighting and appreciating some of my favorite Black women writers across the different fandoms I’m part of.

Today’s spotlight is the K-pop fandom.

K-pop fandom spaces are massive and incredibly creative. From idol AU’s and fluffy comfort fics to dramatic slow burns and chaotic group dynamics, K-pop writers bring so many different kinds of stories to life. The amount of imagination people bring into these fandoms is honestly impressive.

Black women writers in the K-pop fanfiction community add so much personality, creativity, and passion to the space. Their stories help make fandom more fun, more diverse, and more welcoming for readers who want to see themselves reflected in the content they enjoy.

Fanfiction has always been about creativity and community, and these writers put so much time and effort into sharing their work simply because they love the artists and characters they’re writing about.

So for Day 3 of Women’s History Month, I wanted to show appreciation to some amazing Black women writers in the K-pop fandom whose work I’ve enjoyed. If you’re looking for new writers to follow or new stories to read, I definitely recommend checking them out and showing them some love.

Remember if I forgot anybody they might be in the next part or I genuinely could not find them but if you know any black writers tag them in the comments.

@tttt06, @sugrclip, @seoulfulbliss, @iwait @zorange13 @romanspinkpssy, @niyaaas-world @annajolee, @bambcie, @bratzray @smoothiejay1306, @lunalunelover, @luvhyukai @sskzlover, @e-bbaby, @urundercoverluver @adorewo0, @hrtjeans, @luvvpsh @juhooniesdoll, @moonlightdreamzz, @pixierunner50, @neosculturestechnology

@andysorbit, @goldnkookie, @midnightpaperco

@sl4t4niki, @hoonsangel, @lovelylavenderflies

@honghwalvr, @dairaiwrites410, @bndgnd

[midnightpaperco]

Make sure to give each author a follow!

[mrsx-alberich]

Loser (affectionately)

relationships: Bang Chan x female!Reader

cws: smut, dry humping, riding, unprotected sex, sub!Chan (yes you heard right), slight choking kink

word count: 2961

a/n: since Chan is so loser in a hot body coded, I was kinda inspired lol. Please leave a like or a comment if you enjoyed it! This is my first time writing for skz and the first time writing for non fictional characters in ages! I’m kinda nervous

“Did you like our performance today?”, Chris grinned, his cute dimples pretty prominent like this.

“Did I-“, you snorted, casually touching his forearm as he was sitting beside you, “Of course I did”.

His brows did furrow at your first reaction but he certainly was relieved at your following words. You couldn’t ignore the faint pink on his cheeks.

Chris tilted his head, watching you paint lazy circles on his arm.

“Though I don’t know if it was really necessary for you to take your clothes off on stage”, you teased him, relishing in the fact that he really turned red at that.

His grin didn’t fade - you loved that sheepish look on his face.

“They did love it, though”.

There was no doubt of that, your boyfriend really worked hard to maintain his form. The blond looked like he wanted to say something, unsure if he should.

“What did you think about it?”, he asked quietly.

You chuckled softly, abandoning his arm to grab his chin and reposition his face to look properly at you while you leaned forward a bit.

“Couldn’t get my eyes off you, baby”, you whispered, “I know that was for me. Making a show for the fans but only wanting to be mine”.

It was kinda endearing. The strong and independent leader being so desperate for you. No matter how he acted on stage when he performed or how often he flirted with his fans, he folded under your touch, your gaze. And it was damn empowering.

Watching him squirm beside you, trying so hard to maintain his composure.

When he was on tour, away for days and weeks - he would always return to you so needy and touch starved. Quite the opposite of what a stranger would think about him.

Maybe he acted so different around you because he knew with you, he didn’t need to be the strong leader. Of course, he loved his members, but this was something different. Pure devotion.

“You can’t say stuff like that so casually”, he replied.

“Why not? You’re the one posting all these gym videos”, the grip on him was still there, he could easily free himself but chose not to.

You probably loved his posts as much as everyone else did, but you loved the fact that you were the only one able to witness all of it in real life. You weren’t that possessive usually, but he sometimes gave you no other chance.

Chris facial expression was something you wished you could just frame on the wall. He was obviously flustered and it only spurred you on to continue to tease him.

“You’re doing that on purpose, huh?”.

“What do you mean?”, he licked his lips out of nervousness, watching you get up on your knees beside him to be taller.

“Turning me on”.

Chris gasped softly, his dark eyes widening at your words. It was so much fun to rile him up like that, you often thought that he looked cute like this. So startled, lips parted, mind blank.

“I- uhm, that wasn’t my intention“, a sly grin formed on his lips again.

You decided to scoot closer, straddling his lap now. A hand was slightly grazing his jaw with your nails, the other coming up to comb through the short dyed hair.

“As if you don’t know how good you’re looking”, you sighed, noticing him slightly shivering, “So tell me, did you think of me while taking your shirt off?”.

You leaned down a bit, your lips touching his left cheek.

“I-“.

You took his face into your hands, kissing him before he could even answer. He immediately let his shoulders fall, hands on your waist to pull you flush against him.

You always loved how you could hear the low hum in his chest when kissing him, his hands always wanting to grab you everywhere at the same time, muscles tensing and flexing under your touch.

He was completely gone like this, mouths moving against each other, his lips so soft and gentle yet desperate on your own. You couldn’t get yourself to end the kiss so soon, only separating to re-angle your face and let your fingers slide into his neck.

Your fingertips slipped under the hem of his shirt, making him gasp into the kiss.

You finally broke the contact but he chased your lips for a second.

“Christopher, answer my question”.

You knew what the answer was but you wanted to hear it either way.

“Huh?”.

You grinned. God, he was so hot. He really was. Hair disheveled, lips swollen from kissing. But you couldn’t help but love the loser who was trapped in that gorgeous body even more. And you meant that with the deepest and most sincere love you could muster, not in a bad kind of way.

All it needed was a few kisses and a bit of teasing to make him forget everything else but you.

“I- Baby, I always show off just for you”, his grip around your waist tightened, his face was pressed into the crook of your neck, “I’m yours”.

It was nothing new that he was begging for your attention. It was hard to deny him that, though. Especially in this position, with his lips delicately kissing your throat and feeling his growing erection right underneath you.

You couldn’t fight the urge to grind down, to move your hips into his for a second, not when he grunted so loudly against your skin. His hands guided you, encouraging you to do that movement again, but not in a dominant way. He was squeezing you, clinging on to you so pathetically, asking you to give him some more like that.

And of course, you did. You would do anything to hear that man whimper and feel his teeth skating on your neck. So you gyrated your hips a bit more, making his dick twitch.

It rubbed against your clothed clit like this, your sob matching the sounds he did. Chris looked up to you, already looking so wasted, so down bad. He was such a simp for you, every time you laid hands on him.

“So you did all of that on purpose”, your hand rested on his chin.

“Yeah”, he smirked slightly, hips bucking up to meet yours.

“Brat”, you huffed at him, locking your knuckles into his hair to raise his head a bit more.

You could very clearly see his pupils dilate from arousal before getting off of his lap. You knew he was weak for this word and you dominating him for a bit, as much as he was to praise.

“What are you- oh god”.

You stood in front of him, taking off your shirt like he did in front of the cameras on stage. But this was only for his eyes to see. And basically basking in his stare made you feel so good.

He never made you feel insecure about yourself, damn, this gaze made you feel like you were the most beautiful person on earth.

The bulge in his sweatpants was very prominent now, yet he didn’t really seem to care about it in this moment - as if he was entranced by your half naked form.

“Can you behave now, at least?”, you asked, cupping his cheek.

How could he already look so done? His eyes were so hazy, attentively watching every move of you. Full blown pupils following you when you came closer and leaned forward to almost get on his eye level. Your thumb swiped over his lower lip.

“Yeah”.

Oh, his voice was so raspy, so full of desire.

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, Chris?”.

You used the opportunity of his whimper to slip your fingertip into his mouth, his teeth digging into it. His hands squeezed his own thighs, nails buried into his pants. He really held himself back now.

“What’s on your mind, huh?”.

He let go of your thumb and you retracted completely, opening the button of your pants and shimmying out of it.

“Can I-“, Chris swallowed, “Would you let me pin you up against the wall?”.

You hummed, feeling your heart beat faster with every second. With a grin, you pretended to think about it, although it was pretty obvious you would agree to something like that. Especially with that look on his face.

“Say please?”, you let your fingers comb through his hair.

“Please baby”, he stood up in an instant, his hands grabbing your waist again, “Please, let me fuck you”.

His hands on your unclothed skin felt so good, so gentle yet firm.

“I just love when you beg all pretty for me”, you whispered.

You helped him out of his clothes, but not without a few chaste kisses and lingering touches. Chris was thorough in kissing your hand, your wrist, your forearm, your biceps, all the way to the collarbone.

It was torture, although not intended. But you couldn’t help but writhe in his arms by how much you swooned because of this.

That man was a gentleman with every ounce of his being, even the way he pulled your panties down and cornered you against the wall was so soft, always making you feel like you were made out of glass. Like he had to handle you with utmost care.

His palms roamed over you, almost not touching you. Going down to your ass after shortly cupping your tits to hoist you up into his arms.

He actually was strong enough to hold you up on his own, but pressed you against the cold surface for more leverage either way.

The head of his cock nudged against your clit, making both of you gasp. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore from clawing into his shoulders, kissing him with a hot burning desire and relishing in the warmth of his embrace.

It was sloppy, your tongue licking into his mouth and against his own tongue, your mouth swallowing every little sound of pleasure he was ready to give you. That kiss on his own was enough for him to grind his hips forward, jerking into you involuntarily until he blindly breached your entrance.

Chris moaned into your mouth, one hand gripping your thigh as if his life depended on it. He guided you to wrap your legs around his hips in between kisses.

“Please”, he whimpered into the crook of your neck, “Please. Please, just take it”.

He pushed in, inch by inch and made sure to go slow enough to let you get accustomed to his girth. The stretch was intense but only made this even better.

“Take it, take it, take it”, the blond chanted these words like a prayer, “Fuck, you feel so good”.

Your nails dug into his back, definitely leaving crescent marks as he bottomed out. The warmth he was emitting was pushing the air out of your lungs, his scent so divine it was making you dizzy. With a sigh, you let the back of your head hit the wall, giving him more space where he was kissing you down your collarbone.

He started moving, slow, holding back and so precisely, it was almost creepy how easily he found your g-spot without even trying. Every time the tip of his cock pressed against it, you involuntarily jolted, your grip on him increased until he hissed.

The heat was unbearable, your bodies stuck together and your sweaty back felt uncomfortable against the wallpaper, but you didn’t care.

“Fucking you raw is always so- ughhh.. can’t believe you let me do this”, he almost growled, voice slurred, open mouthed kisses being littered onto your skin.

You actually whined because of his words, his dick twitching inside you to emphasize his feelings.

He grew bolder, hips thrusting in a quicker pace. Your lower abdomen tingled and burned with pleasure as he pressed your thighs against the wall as well.

“Ohhh, fuck, I’m gonna-“, he fell into his Australian accent, too lost in the moment to concentrate, “Please, baby, please”.

You chuckled, gripping his hair to pry him off your throat and make him look at you.

“What are you begging for?”.

“I don’t know”.

Your heart soared when he almost sobbed out of overstimulation, staring at you in a daze. His pace was erratic but slow, sometimes even halting to properly take a breath.

“You gonna cum for me, Chris?”, you cooed, using your grip in his hair to guide his face closer towards you.

He didn’t answer, just nodding and gasping. He took the grin on your lips as a sign to finally lose himself. You let go of his hair and he immediately took his place with his face on your shoulder again.

Chris steadied himself, all of the sudden using much more force to fuck you. Both of your breaths were staggered, coming in short puffs in sync with his thrusts and being more of a combination of groans and whines than actually breathing.

He rutted his hips into yours quick and hard and you already felt the coil in your stomach tighten, especially when he sunk his teeth into the skin of your shoulder. His whole body tensed up, squeezing you by pressing against you with everything he got while cumming with a feral and guttural growl rumbling in his chest. The thrusts had subsided, he was just grinding into you now, painting your walls and filling you up. Your clit was so deliciously stimulated like this, his pelvis rubbing against it with his motions. It made you feel so hungry for him, so full of love, desire, pleasure. You wanted more.

The twitch of his cock relentless, he was still not letting go of you. Not even when he was coming down from his high, he hugged you tightly - stepping away from the wall but holding you close and not let himself slip out.

He basically stumbled to the bed, sitting down with you still being on top of him. The blond kissed the bite mark apologetically, trying to soothe it with a soft peck.

“I love you”, he whispered, ”Saranghae”.

“I love you, too, baby”, you smiled, “But I’m not done with you”.

You pushed him back with your hands on his chest. His lips were parted, tongue sticking out quickly to wet them.

“Huh?”.

Teasing him was probably your favorite thing to do, it was so much fun and his facial expressions were so endearing. You loved how easily he was flustered, how cute he looked when his face was red.

You began to move your hips, sit up a bit only to slam them down again.

Chris gasped at the sensation, being this stimulated after he just came always knocked him out a bit, his hands were on your waist, not knowing if he wanted to push you off or encourage you to go faster.

His eyes were closed, eyelids fluttering every now and then. Incoherent words left his mouth, mostly in Korean, babbling words you knew and some you never heard before.

“Is it too much?”, you asked, nails scratching over his abs.

He nodded but it quickly turned into him shaking his head instead. This was such a sight to see, he arched his back off the mattress, hips jerking up so casually to meet you. When his eyes fluttered open, they were almost rolled back into his skull.

“Chris”, you said, hand moving up to grip his jaw, “You always look so pretty when you’re fucked dumb like that, you know that?”.

Your hand sneaked down and wrapped around his throat to squeeze him there lightly, letting his moan die down before it could properly form.

“So pliant”, you praised him, “Only for me”.

Your tiny fingers looked so good on him, you were so glad that he happily let you do everything you wanted with him.

He moaned again, his big hands squeezing you as you continued to fuck yourself on his dick.

“Deo juseyo”, he breathed, “More- please”.

How could you say no to that? With a grin on your lips, you squeezed the sides of his throat some more, actually increasing the pace of your movements. His cum slowly trickling down worked as some nasty kind of lube, letting him slide in so easily every time. He filled you so good, tip kissing your cervix in this position so perfectly.

You were close, so damn close. You stayed down, his dick fully inserted and rocked your hips back and forth. The friction on your clit was just right, grinding down like this made you moan out loud.

You felt your muscles seize, your walls clenched around him as you reached your high like this. Chris had his second release coming when he felt your pussy gripping him, slamming you down and fucking up into you as if his body acted on his own.

His sounds were broken and hoarse, choked by your hand on his windpipe but he seems to enjoy that very much. He actually leaned into the touch, his fingers bruising you with his hands locked in, it took him a bit until his body relaxed again.

The look on his face when you let go made you almost think he was missing the sensation.

“You okay?”, you asked, breathing heavy.

Chris just hummed in satisfaction, pulling you closer until you laid on him - chest to chest. He hugged you tightly, although he seemed pretty exhausted right now.

You almost thought he would fall asleep now, with his chest heaving in a steady and slow rhythm after some time.

“I should take my shirt off on stage more often”, he laughs, “If that leads to this“.

“You can just say when you want to be dominated more often, baby”.

@isa-mi-aldini

masterlist | skz taglist

[shortnsourrr]

Utterly corrupt

~ STRAY KIDS oneshot ~

story summary - In which your boyfriend has a bit of a corruption kink.

pairings - Christopher Chahn Bahng "Bang Chan" x reader

contains - sweet chan, corruption kink, smut, p in v, fingering, oral (m. receiving), slight degradation, established relationship, pervy chan if you squint, FREAK BANG CHAN, freaky reader if you squint, they're both down bad, he's still gentle though, hyperfem reader, it's not that bangchan is like emo or anything he just isn't sparkly lime the reader, reader is a virgin, first time sex, virginity loss, porn no plot, a little bit of fluff

notes - MDNI, first stray kids fic ahhhh, based on a poll! Please ignore mistakes I type really fast so my writing gets ruined

To be fair, Chris doesn't know he has a corruption kink. He doesn't just go around flaunting it. He didn't choose to have it. Well, not until he got with you.

You, his sweet girl. Literally, you wore perfume that smelled like candy, heels to the grocery store, lipgloss to the gym.And he liked that, he thought you dressed cute, he liked the way you curled your hair, the way you giggled at everything.

And he hated the way he wanted to ruin you. He wanted to destroy you for everyone else, he wanted to make you into his little fuck toy.

Of course, he had never acted on these fantasies, he couldn't. You were a virgin, and he wasn't so possessed that he would take that moment from you.

So he waited. Waited until your 5 month anniversary, when you got home from your date, and you were sitting on the foot of the bed, staring up at him.

"I'm ready to have sex."

You're so fucking blunt.

Chris's eyes widened as he took in your words.

"Are you sure? You're ready? Like now?"

You nodded, placing your hands on his hips which made his breath hitch.

"I'm sure, I want this. I want you to be my first."

He nodded, taking a breath before crouching down to your eye level.He kisses you, soft, slowly.

You respond eagerly, arms wrapping around his neck.

Without breaking the kiss, he pushed you back on the bed, crawling above you.

His lips moved down to your neck, the kisses becoming more rough and urgent.

He met your breasts, taking his large hand and tugging your dress straps down your chest.

He wanted to grope and bite your tits. He wanted to watch them bounce around but he had to wait. He needed to at least wait to get his dick in you.

He pressed little kisses all around your cleave, taking off your bra.

Your nipples stiffened once the cool air hit them. Chris looked up as his fingers met your nipple, watching your face scrunch in pleasure as he tugs and twists.

Before you can even react properly, his lips are making a trail down your stomach to the top of your panties.White with a little rose on the front.

They're so cute. You're so cute. He can't believe himself.

His nose presses against your clothed clit, causing you to gasp softly.

He can smell your arousal and it's driving him fucking insane.

He tugs your panties down to your ankles, eyes closing in on your pussy.

Untouched, wet, and perfect. That's how he would describe it, he looked up at you, kissing your lips as he slipped in his middle finger. You gasped eyes flicking down to the point of action.

"Shh, just relax and let me take care of you."

He cooed, his fingers slipping in and out of you.

He watched your walls clench around the invading digit, so tight and it was just his finger. He tried to slip in a second, but it took some work.

"Is this the first time someone touches you like this?"

You nod frantically.

"You've never even touched yourself?"

"Just once, in high school. I rubbed my clit... and I rode my pillow once."

"Did you cum?"

"No... I couldn't."

"Do you think I can make you cum?"

He asked as he pushed in a third.

You gasp, moaning into his shoulder.

"Mmm, yes! Fuck yes"

He smirked, fingers pumping into your vigorously, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit.

"Then do it. Cum, cum on my fingers baby."

And who were you to disobey?

You came on his fingers, burying your face in his shoulder as you did.

His fingers pulled out with a wet pop, and pulled him to his mouth to clean.

"Taste so fuckin' good baby... you need more?"

You nod, holding him close.His fingers took your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Use your words."

"Need more Chris... need you to fuck me.. please?"

Your voice was like honey, so sweet and smooth.

And he couldn't wait to gear you scream his name.

He undid his belt, sliding his pants and boxers off.

One word to describe his dick? Big.So fucking big.

He pumped himself a few times before moving the tip to your clit.

He circled it teasingly, then dragged the tip up and down your folds.

You whined, hands gripping his shoulder.

"Please Chris..."

He smiled, but it wasn't pure, it was corrupt.

He pushed in the tip, causing you to arch against him. He kept pushing, inch by inch, letting you cling to him.

"Chris! 's too big! It won't fit!"

Chris used one hand to pin your hands above your head, and the other to spread your folds wider, taking him deeper.

"You can take it. You will take it. Because you wanna be my good girl right? You want me to fuck you properly?"

You nod, taking deep breath as you let him in.

He finally got all the way in, but he gave you a second to adjust.

Then, he set a slow, delicate pace, careful to not overwhelm you. He need to make this perfect for you.

But when your walls squeezed him, and he looked at your face etched in pleasure and glittery makeup, he couldn't be patient.His pace got quicker, his thrusts got more brutal.

You called out his name, tits bouncing with every movement.

"You like that baby? You like when I fuck you rough?"

You nodded.

Chris let out a dark chuckle.

"So is that what you want? To be fucked like a whore? Cause I can do that baby."

He hand moved to you nape, adding just enough pressure to make you feel how bad he wanted you.

His pelvis crashed into yours with each thrust.

You liked this. You liked the way he fucking you. You need to take him deeper, so you spread your legs, trying to open up more.

"Chris... deeper, go deeper."

You cried.

Chris smirked, pulling out abruptly before flipping you onto all fours.

With your ass now facing him, he slammed back in, fucking you from behind.

You moaned at the new angle, words turning into incoherent babbles.

"Am I the only who can fuck you like this?"

He asked, hands gripping your hips. You couldn't speak, just moaned.

That's when Chris smacked your ass, fisting a hand on your hair and tugging your head back.

"I asked you a fucking quesiton."

You screamed at the sudden aggressiveness.

"Yes fuck! Only you! Your the only one who can fuck me like this!"

"That's a good girl."

He praised, hand slipping in between your bodies to rub your clit.

"Chris... baby, baby I feel... I can't- mmm..."

"You're gonna cum baby, let it happen, cum on my dick."

Your orgasm came over you quickly. But Chris couldn't help you ride it out. Because if he did, he'd cum and as much as he wanted to claim you, he didn't want to force you into anything. He pulled out, flipping you onto you back and pulling your head up, rubbing his red tip on your lips.

"Say 'ah' Baby. Open up f'me"

"But I've never-"

"Doesn't matter. I trust you, I know you'll do great."

You opened your mouth wide, letting him push his dick in.

When you felt him hit the back of your throat, you wrapped your lips around him.

He groaned, throwing his head back as he gripped you hair into a ponytail, moving your mouth against him.

"That's it baby... just like that. Suck me dry."

He watched as your pretty pink lipgloss smeared all over his giant cock, and it made him so crazy.

"Fuck baby... I'm gonna cum... you gonna swallow it?"

You let out a strangled sound around him in response.

He'll take that as a yes.

Before you knew it, his warm cum was slipping into your throat, you tried to swallow as much as you could, but you did choke some out.

He lifted you up into his lap, kissing you all over. "You did so good for me sweet girl..."

Little does he know, this one night was going to change you forever.

From this moment on, you can't be fucked the same. You need his fat cock, need him to hit it from behind, need to be degraded by him.

Because now, you are utterly corrupt.

[thatonegirlonhere]

I’m sorry but the way I AUDIBLY MOANED at Chans new Bubble PFP

BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF WOOF

I need that man in ways none of my sluts could understand.

FUCKKKKKKKKK

tag list : @quaxing-lour @chryssi-kitten @kkd1021 @sagetakami @nojerama-writes @hwangseolover @yaorzu-blog @rrhwang @mitsuri1221 @eluvsp1hskzbtstxtatzaao @soojinie-5 @satosugu4l @yxna-bliss @magikdarkholme @mbioooo0000 @rougegenshin @deadpool15 @simpqueen2025 @stronglychanbiased @kwanniehae @inlovewithstraykids @iovecb97 @rtyuy1346 @minho-kitty @tillaboo @paulina15 @hyunjinnnlvrr @juskz @felixsonlyrealwife @warped-rabbithole @angelbbygrl @xoxomanicpanic @blushnboba @strhwa @collin-thegreat @stellasays45 @bnghvn @hyunniesprincess @adieu-lisette @rebelmooon @seunghyoverse @han-quokka-keira @stewpidcheezecat0427 @thequeenofdramaqueens @iconicallyher @91dreams91things @straystar-8

[channlust]

💭...fratboy!chan who has a tongue piercing, and knows how to put it to good use.

──────────────────

you? getting tongue fucked to heaven by the bang chan? the oh so famous campus playboy? dont be ridiculous. that sounded like a plot of some wet dream of yours.

but look at you now, getting feasted on by the one and only.

you don't know why you agreed to coming here, really. you knew parties weren't your thing, having went to a few before and just standing in some corner or getting dared to kiss some guy. they're always the same. always the same people. always the same events that play out in the end.

but you gave in when your friend came in with puppy eyes and a dress that she insisted would make you look like a snack.

and you went, walking into a two story house that probably belonged to some trust fund kid around campus. your friend immediately got pulled into the crowd, insisting you text her if anything happens while she got dragged by her hand. just how you imagined it'd play out.

you went to grab a drink, leaning against the counter, scanning the crowd out of boredom.

and you felt him next to you a few meters, how could you not? his blond hair was perfectly messy, that black tanktop he always wore showing his arms flexing with every move, he was a sight. and that was nothing new, what was new was that he was alone.

he always had his friends next to him, or some girl curled up next to him. you never saw him alone.

you definitely think it was the alcohol getting to your head already, your legs carrying you to go over and talk to him. what's the worse that could happen really? you had nothing to lose and too much time on your hands.

and he was even more gorgeous upclose, it made your heart double over.

both of you surprisingly fell into an easy conversation. he was way less intimidating than his reputation made him to be. his nose piercing caught the light every time he moved slightly, and his easy going smile made you feel more at ease.

and when you noticed his tongue piercing, eyes widning with surprise and words on how cool it was, he couldn't help but pulling you into a hungry kiss right then.

he had you pinned infront of him, hands gripping onto your waist as he made out with you nasty. you felt the ball of metal on his tongue swipe against yours occasionally, making you let out a little noise whenever it did.

it was nothing new for him to be making out with someone at the corner of a party, and apparently, it was nothing new for him to pull them into the bathroom. he locked the door behind you before kneeling down and bunching your dress up to your waist, pulling your panties down and...tucking them in his pockets?

"wait chan what are you-" you were about to question his actions but you were silenced when he latched his tongue onto you, the new sensation making you gasp.

"oh look, you're already dripping f'me, pretty" he said amused. his fingers grazing over your clit before he pulled one of your legs on his shoulder, gripping your waist before he started eating you out like a man STARVED. eagerly pressing long, flat licks from your opening down to your clit, his piercing catching onto the hood everytime making you moan out.

he groaned against you as your hands tangled into his hair, slightly tugging at it. your breathing grew heavier when he continued his ministrations. you felt him smirk against you, successfuly boosting his already big ego.

chan looked up at you in awe, head thrown back, face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to whine with everg lap of his toungue "oh—shittt!"

he broke away for a breath, making you whine at the loss "wanted to do this ever since i saw you, pretty" he said looking up at you with lustful eyes, it was probably a line he repeated to every girl he did this to, but you couldn't help the tug you felt at your heart.

"shut up n' eat me out" you said trying to hide the blush that crept up your cheeks. "yes ma'am" he chuckled, diving back in, holding your second leg up against his shoulder. all your weight onto his arms and face as he held you up, his pierced tounge reaching deep inside. "oh—fuck right there"

you held onto the doorknob to balance yourself as he drank you up "taste so fuckin—mmmm—good" he was so drunk off of you, his face getting messy with drool and arousal, lewd noises coming from below as he went faster, making your eyes screw shut with a moan.

"hah! wanna cum!" his nose was pressing onto your sensitive little nub as his tongue darted inside, tip pressing into your sweet spot as the ball metal grazed your walls, only adding to the pleasure.

"say please?" oh he was so cocky with that fucked out face of his, lips curling against you. his neck was starting to ache, but he didn't care, only dedicated to bring you undone on his cock.

"oh please! please chan let me—fuck!" your begging sent blood rushing to his cock, sucking onto your clit harshly as he let out a groan that vibrated up your clit.

your eyes rolled back, heels pressing against his back as you started shaking against him, tipping over the edge when he swiped his tounge over you again, metal ball pressing between your clit "im—cumming!"

your thighs crushed his head when you clenched down, almost falling over from the intensity of your orgasm before he held you up by your waist, easing you down as he lapped up your juices.

you fully stood up on your heels, trying to catch your breath as you straightened your dress, then you remembered,

"mind giving me my underwear back now?"

"only if you promise to let me eat you out like that again"

♡♡♡

a/n: nerd!chan or fratboy!chan? one at the front and one at the back, NEXT