ren

🌌

[nybrolocolo]

ᥕᥱᥣᥴ᥆꧑ᥱ t᥆ ꧑ᥡ bᥣ᥆g 🔞🔞🔞

MDNI!! MINORS DO NOT INTERFERE!

age: 26!

pronouns: she/her

my ult bias is lee know, hanni, and bang chan!!!

**i write, but this is not my writing blog.. its actually like my own personal.. secret blog?? 😭 think of it as my like reading blog

[linos-pudding-cup]

I. the watcher ⋆ 🜂 chan

✨event masterlist✨

“And that white set — fuck princess”

summary: you know him through friends, little did you know that would spark something wild. From tidying up to stealing your panties, now you're hooked. Fucking your stalker, you're in deep.

paring: stalker!chan x fem!reader

genre / tags: unprotected sex (don’t be dumb), dom!chan, sub!reader, pet names (baby, babygirl, good girl, princess) voyeurism, angst if you squint, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f), oral (f and m receiving), fingering, dirty talk, degrading, squirting, dacryphilia, hybristophilia, (lemme know if I missed anything)

wc: 4.7k

•••

minors mdni— you will be blocked

a/n: I keep forgetting to do that 👆

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He’d been around for years, always there somehow, the same parties, the same friends, the same small talk that didn’t mean anything. You barely spoke, then you started texting, then joking, then staying up late over nothing, and somehow he became the easiest part of your day. He was funny, dry, attentive. He remembered things. You started trusting him without even realizing it. He felt safe. You wouldn’t say it out loud.

Then your apartment started cleaning itself. Dishes done, trash gone, counters wiped. That greasy patch by the stove was gone. You laughed it off. Maybe you’d done it and forgot. Maybe you were losing it.

Then your favorite underwear disappeared. The one with the tiny bow. You looked everywhere it could've been, under your bed, in your laundry, in the laundry machine, maybe you left it in there— but you didn't, you couldn't find it where you looked. Then two days later, it was back. Folded, perfect. You stared at it, trying not to imagine someone folding it, trying not to imagine why.

Then things started appearing instead. Chips you liked. A book you mentioned once. Notes in messy handwriting. "Thought of you." "Hope this makes you smile." You showed your friends. They laughed. You laughed, yet your laugh didn't reach your eyes.

Then the curtains were open when you knew you’d closed them. You started locking the windows, checking doors twice, listening to the floorboards. Every sound was louder than it should be.

The notes changed. They came with your things. Your underwear. Your mug. The handwriting looked rushed. "You looked pretty today." You didn’t tell anyone.

You started changing your schedule. Coming home early. Coming home late. You waited, trying to catch someone. Or maybe to catch nothing. The pipes, the fridge, the creak of your floor, all of it felt wrong.

Then the knock came. Sharp. Single. You froze. Stared at the door. Nothing. You looked through the peephole. No one. There was a small box on the floor. You picked it up. It was light. You didn’t want to open it. You did anyway.

Inside were photos, a USB, and a note taped on top. "Music to my ears." You recognized the handwriting.

The photos were of you. In the shower. Steam and blurry light. The angles were too close. Too private. Your chest went cold before your hands even shook.

The USB sat there. You told yourself not to touch it. Your hand moved anyway. One folder. One video. You pressed play. Watched for half a second. That was enough. You slammed the laptop shut, heart racing.

Then you started tearing through your apartment. Not just checking anymore, really tearing. Under the bed, behind bookshelves, inside lamps, behind the TV. Then you saw it. A tiny black dot in the corner of the ceiling. You climbed up on a chair and pulled it down. A camera.

You held it in your hand. Tiny. Harmless-looking. You sat on the floor, shaking, thinking about how long it had been there. How long he’d been there. The detergent smell made your stomach twist. You used to love it. Now it made your skin crawl.

You thought about him. His small smiles. How he listened. How safe it had felt. Maybe it never had. Maybe it had only ever been him watching.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You didn’t move. You wrapped the camera and USB in a towel and shoved them in a drawer. Sat on your bed. Still dressed. Still shaking. Still listening. Waiting.

You told yourself you’d call someone tomorrow. You just needed to breathe first.

—~~—

Morning after feels off in all the small, wrong ways.

You wake up with your phone face-down, still warm from where you held it all night.

You haven’t slept more than a twitchy hour at a time. Your eyes are puffy. Yesterday’s clothes are in the laundry basket where you chucked them like always.

There's a new note under your pillow, not stuck to the counter like usual.

Your hands shake as you pick it up.

The handwriting is the same: messy but careful.

It doesn’t say “thought of you” this time.

It says what you wore.

You read it once, then again, because your brain doesn’t want to believe someone would catalog you like this.

“Blue shirt. Hair tucked. Socks. Shoes. Headband. Necklace. And that white set.”

Your hands tremble. You’re furious. You’re scared. You’re stupidly curious. You dress like someone daring fate — jeans, a big sweater, shoes you can run in — on purpose. Hair in a messy bun. Mismatched socks. Necklace left on the bedside table.

You breathe and step into the kitchen. On the counter: a new thing. Not a gift. Not folded underwear. A small Polaroid leaning against the sugar jar. Your stomach drops. It’s a photo of your underwear. Ruined, sticky, out of place.

You shove the Polaroid in your pocket and walk out like you don’t care. But you do. You check the mirror anyway. The voice in your head cataloguing the cataloguer: neat handwriting, careful timing, notes left like a performance, not a coincidence.

Yes. He’s describing you from head to toe. Yes. He’s noting what’s under your clothes.

The rest of the day is small tests. You leave five minutes early. You leave five minutes late. Carry a grocery bag that ruins your silhouette. Switch shoes in the lobby. Pretend you forgot something so you can come back.

The notes escalate, not in detail but in confidence. They stop listing outfits and start making comments: “You looked tired this morning.” “You hum that song when no one hears.” “You laughed at him too long.”

Possessive now. Accusing. Notes about you “flirting” with other men — the ones in your friend group. You wrinkle your forehead. Change the list in your head. Chan. Of course. That explains the handwriting, the timing, the notes. Only he would care enough to leave a map of your life like this.

You imagine him with a camera hidden in the corner of your room, stealing your underwear, writing the notes like a meticulous diary. You imagine the smug way he’d sip his coffee and wait for you to notice.

That night, a new voice note pops up from an unknown number. You press play because you know you’d always regret not.

His voice is low, casual, like weather talk. “You wore the blue shirt yesterday. Hair down. Bare feet on the tile. Light was perfect.”

Pause. A quiet groan. “And that white set — fuck, princess."

You drop the phone. It hits the couch and bounces.

He’s narrating. Every note, every comment, every photo is written like it belongs to him. You. The subject.

You sit on your bed, cold, hyper-aware, imagining him somewhere, maybe grinning, writing the next note. You try to think about how you’ll call someone in the morning. But tonight… tonight you just breathe.

Hours later, you finally pick up your phone. Chan’s name lights up. You feel it in your chest: the sick mix of fear and power.

“Princess,” he says when you answer. His tone is casual, smooth. “So you figured it out.”

You pause. Part of you expects panic, an apology, maybe rage.

Instead, you say: “Come to my place.”

Silence. Then a soft chuckle that makes your stomach twist.

The line goes quiet, just long enough to remind you that you’re still in control. But only just.

You sit there. Waiting. Knowing that the next few minutes will decide everything.

You hear the knock and your stomach does that tight flip again. You try to steady your breathing, tell yourself to be calm, but your palms are sweaty. The doorknob rattles in the way it always does when someone turns it slowly, testing.

You open the door. He’s there. Chan. Smiling like he’s been waiting in line for this moment his whole life.

“You asked me to come,” he says, teasing. No apology. No hesitation. Just that casual confidence.

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging like you couldn’t care less. You step aside, letting him in, even though a small, stupid part of you knows that letting him is dumb. “Don’t just stand there.”

He steps in, slow, scanning the apartment as if he hasn't been there before. You catch him staring at the Polaroid tucked in your pocket. You don’t say anything.

“You’re… bold,” he murmurs, his eyes following you. “Even after everything.”

You raise a brow. “Bold? Or just tired of you guessing?”

He moves closer, you can almost feel his breath on yours. "You know,” he says. “I’ve been keeping track for a while. Everything. And you… you play it like it doesn’t matter.”

You shrug again, like you’re not aware of the way your body tenses. “Maybe it doesn’t,” you tease back.

"You’re impossible,” he mutters. “Do you even realize how much trouble you’re in, princess?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Depends on what you mean by trouble.”

He tilts his head like he’s studying you, reading your reactions, but not pushing. Not yet.

“You’re teasing me,” he says quietly, almost accusingly, “and you know it.”

“Am I?” you say, letting yourself smile a bit. “Maybe I just like seeing how far you’ll go.”

He exhales, long, amused. “Oh, I’ll go far. Farther than you think.”

You pull the Polaroid out of your pocket, pretending to inspect it casually. “You leave gifts now? That’s new,” you murmur, holding it like it’s nothing.

He leans slightly, chuckling. “You’ve always been quick. That’s why I like it.”

You tuck the Polaroid back into your pocket. “You think you’re scary,” you tease. “I think you just like being noticed.”

“Maybe I do,” he admits, his boice teasing. “But don’t forget — I know everything.”

You nod slowly, calm, collected, letting the weight of his words sink in while secretly loving it. “Good. Then you’ll know I’m ready for you.”

“Is that so?” He grabbed your hips and pinned them to the door so you couldn't move. You tried to move them, but his grip was strong.

“Chan, what are you—” Before you could finish, he covered your mouth with his hand.

“Shh. I'm gonna take care of you now.”

He moved his hand from your mouth, and before you could say anything, his lips were on yours. His tongue pushed into your mouth as he let go of your hips, allowing you to move them.

He moved one of his hands under your shirt and started to play with your nipple. You pulled away from the kiss as you let out a soft moan. He smirked down at you before kissing your neck.

“Tell me, did you like knowing you had a stalker? Did it turn you on?” His voice was low and husky. You nod your head as he continued to kiss your neck.

He pulled away and looked down at you with a smirk on his face.

He used his free hand to pull down your shorts and panties, leaving you exposed.

“You're already wet.” He let go of your arms and spread your legs a little. “You were thinking of me, am I or am I right?”

You didn't say anything as you felt his fingers brush against your soaked pussy.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you from the door.

He walked you over to the couch and sat down. He spread his legs a bit as he pulled you down onto his lap, facing him.

“Answer me.”

You gasped as he pushed two fingers inside you. “You,'re right” you let out a soft moan.

“Good girl.” He pulled his fingers out of you and undid his pants, never stopping the movement of his fingers.

Once his cock was free, he removed his fingers from your soaked cunt. "Fuck, you look so hot, baby." You hovered up a but when he tapped your thigh.

"Sit on my cock," he spat. "Ride me like the horny slut you sre. Fucking your stalker like the last thing on earth."

He wrapped his arms around you and started bouncing you up and down on his cock. He kissed your neck as you threw your head back, moaning loudly.

You could feel the pleasure building up inside you as you continued to bounce on his cock. You grabbed his shoulders for support as he started going faster.

“Are you going to cum already?” he asked in a mocking tone. He stopped bouncing you and held you still, his cock deep inside you. You whimpered and tried to move, but his grip was firm.

“Not so fast, babygirl,” he murmured. "You're not cumming until I say so.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and you tried to move your hips, but he held you in place.

“Please, Chan,” you begged, your voice a soft whimper. “I need to cum.”

He pulled back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Not yet, my good little slut. You need to earn it.” He started moving you slowly, just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to send you over. You moaned, your body trembling with need.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he commanded, his voice low and demanding. “Tell me how much you need my cock.”

“I need it,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his hold. “Please, Channie, I need to cum.”

He chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Not until you beg properly.” He increased the pace slightly, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Please, Channie,” you whimpered, using the name that always seemed to get to him. “Please let me cum. I'll be your good little slut, I promise.”

He groaned, his grip tightening on your hips. “Fuck, you're so beautiful when you beg.” He slowed down again, edging you mercilessly. You could feel the tears spilling over mixing with the sweat on your skin.

“Channie, please,” you sobbed, your body shaking with the effort of holding back your orgasm. “I can't take it anymore.”

He leaned in, kissing your tears away. “You can and you will, my darling. You're going to be my good little slut and take whatever I give you.” He started moving you faster, his cock hitting all the right spots. You could feel your orgasm building, but he pulled out just as you were about to tip over the edge.

“No, no, no,” you cried, your body aching with need. “Please, Channie, I need to cum.”

He smirked, his eyes dark with lust. “Not yet, babygirl. You need to earn it.” He helped you get off, helping you kneel down in front of him. You could see the wetness glistening on his cock, and you licked your lips, wanting to taste him.

“Suck it,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire. “Show me how much you want it.”

You leaned forward, taking his cock into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head, tasting the salty pre-cum. He groaned, his hands fisting in your hair as he guided your movements. You took him deep, relaxing your throat to accommodate his length. He started to fuck your mouth, his hips moving in a steady rhythm.

“That's it, my good little slut,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. “Take it all.”

You could feel your own arousal building, your pussy throbbing with need. You reached down, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. He noticed and pulled back, a wicked smile on his face.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” he asked, his voice a low growl. You shook your head, your eyes wide with anticipation. “Good girl. Now, suck my cock like the good little slut you are.”

You redoubled your efforts, taking him deep and swallowing around him. He groaned, his grip on your hair tightening. You could feel his cock swelling in your mouth, and you knew he was close. He pulled back, his chest heaving with exertion.

He guided his cock back into your mouth, his hips remaking your hair into a makeshift ponytail. You could feel his cock pulsing, and you knew he was about to cum.

“Swallow it all, my good little slut,” he groaned, his body tensing as he released into your mouth. You swallowed, taking every drop, your own body aching with need. He pulled out, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Good girl,” he praised, helping you to your feet. “Now, let's see about that orgasm of yours.”

He laid you down gently on the couch, spreading your legs wide. He positioned himself between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit with expert precision. You moaned, your hips bucking against his touch. He leaned down, his tongue replacing his fingers, licking and sucking your sensitive flesh. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing with anticipation.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your clit. “Let me taste that sweet cum.”

You cried out, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashed over you. He continued to lick and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you were a trembling, boneless mess. He crawled up your body, kissing you gently, tasting yourself on his lips.

“My good little slut,” he murmured, his voice soft with affection. “You did so well.”

“Thank you, Channie,” you whispered.

"We're not done yet baby, let me make you feel good, hmm?" He asked and you nodded.

He inserted his fingers back into your awaiting hole. You moaned and arched your back, needing more. He added another finger, curling them and hitting the perfect spot.

You whimpered and reached out, gripping his hair. He leaned down and kissed you.

He removed his fingers and you whined at the loss.

“Don't worry, baby girl. I'll take care of you.” He kissed his way down your body until he was settled between your legs. He looped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer to his face.

He licked his lips and looked up at you. “Ready?” he asked. You nodded and he lowered his head, licking a strip up your pussy. You moaned and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his tongue on you.

He licked and sucked, focusing on your clit. He knew just what to do to drive you crazy, and he wasn't holding back.

You gripped his hair tighter and pulled him closer. He moaned against you, the vibration sending shocks through your body. He inserted two fingers into you, curling them just right. He continued his ministrations, and you felt your orgasm building.

“Fuck, Chan. I'm going to cum,” you moaned. He sucked your clit into his mouth and hummed, sending you over the edge. He continued licking as you rode out your orgasm, only pulling away when your body relaxed.

“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing up your body. He settled next to you and pulled you into his arms.

Chan's fingers trailed down your body, tracing the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your thigh. You shivered at his touch, your body already craving more. His fingers found your clit again, circling it gently. You moaned, your hips lifting to meet his touch. He added another finger, pushing into you, curling them to hit that spot deep inside.

You could feel the pressure building, a strange sensation in your lower belly. "Chan, oh… fuck- right there," you gasped, your body tensing as he continued to stroke you. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace.

The knot in your stomach tightened, a feeling of urgency and fear mingling with the pleasure. You could feel something building, something new and unfamiliar. Chan sensed the change, his fingers slowing their rhythm, switching to a fast, swiping motion over your pussy lips and folds. The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"You're so close, baby," Chan murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Let go for me." His fingers moved faster.

Suddenly, you felt it—the release, a gush of fluid, your body convulsing as you squirted for the first time. Chan's fingers continued their swift motion, your juices soaking the couch, his chest, and even his cheeks.

He hovered on top of you, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "You did so good, baby," he murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You were still catching your breath with the aftermath of your intense release, when Chan rolled you onto your hands and knees. He positioned himself behind you, his hard cock pressing against your entrance. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his body tense with need. "Fuck, you're so sexy like this," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Ready for me, aren't you? Ready for me to fill that tight little pussy again?"

You shivered, your body already overstimulated but craving more. "Yes," you moaned, pushing back against him, inviting him in. He entered you slowly, his thick cock stretching you, filling you completely. You gasped as he hit a spot deep inside. "So deep," you whimpered, your body adjusting to his size. "You're so big, Chan. I can feel you everywhere."

He groaned, moving his hips slowly, his cock driving into you with each thrust. You could feel your own pleasure building, the sensation of his cock inside you pushing you towards another climax. "You're so tight," he grunted, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "You feel incredible. So fucking good."

He leaned back, changing the angle, hitting a spot that made you cry out. "Fuck, Chan," you moaned. "Right there. Don't stop."

He chuckled, a low, dirty sound. "I won't, baby. I'm going to fuck you until you cum all over my cock. Until you're screaming my name."

He increased his pace, his hips moving faster, his cock driving into you with relentless force. You could feel your own pleasure building, the sensation of his cock inside you pushing you towards another climax. "I'm close," you gasped, your body tensing. "I'm so close, Chan. Fuck, I'm going to cum."

He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit, circling it gently. "Cum for me, baby," he growled, his voice a dirty promise. "Cum all over my cock. Show me how much you love it. Show me how much you love my cock inside you."

With a final cry, you came, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you.

"Shit, baby I'm so close," he grunted, his thrusts growing messier. Chan leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips at your ear. "Where do you want me to cum, baby?" he grunted.

"Inside," you moaned, your body already craving the feel of him releasing inside you. "I need your hot cum inside me. Don't worry, I'm on the pill."

"I know," Chan smirked, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his hot, white cum. You could feel it, the warmth of his release, the sensation of him marking you from the inside.

But he wasn't done. He pulled out slowly, his cum spilling out of you, dripping down your thighs. But Chan wasn't done. He used his fingers to push his cum back inside you, his touch gentle yet firm. "I want every drop inside you," he murmured, his voice thick with possession. "You're mine, baby. All mine."

He rolled you onto your back, positioning himself between your legs. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roaming over your body. "So sexy. I could fuck you all night."

He entered you slowly, his cock filling you, stretching you. You moaned, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts. He moved slowly, drawing out each stroke, making you feel every inch of him. "You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his voice strained with effort. "So fucking good. I could stay inside you forever."

"Fuck, I-I can't go anymore," you moaned, your body aching for release despite yourself.

"Yes you can baby, give me one more," he obliged, his hips moving faster, his cock driving into you with relentless force. You could feel your own pleasure building, the sensation of his cock inside you pushing you towards another climax.

"I'm close," you gasped, your body tensing. "I'm so close, Chan. Fuck, I'm going to cum again."

He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit, circling it gently. "Cum for me, baby," he growled.

With a final cry, you came again, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you. Chan followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his hot, white cum.

He collapsed on top of you, his body slick with sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, your body still tingling with the aftermath of your orgasm.

He leaves the room for a few minutes and comes back with a warm, damp cloth in one hand, the shirt you’d thrown on the bed earlier in the other.

“Here,” he says softly, kneeling to help you sit up. He presses the cloth gently to your sticky inner thighs. You flinch at how sensitive it feels, and he chuckles.

“Wear this,” he murmurs, handing you the shirt, “I’ll be back.”

You pull it over your shoulders. It’s warm, soft, still faintly smelling like the detergent you’d used the night before. He steps out again, leaving the room quieter than it’s been all night.

When he returns, you’re sitting on the edge of the couch. It feels… safe, but the quiet between you is thick.

“You could’ve just… asked me,” you say finally, trying to keep it steady. “Instead of… all this. All of it.”

He smirks, tilting his head. “Asked you what?”

“You know,” you say, struggling to keep your hands from trembling. “You didn’t need to watch. You didn’t need to…” You trail off, frustrated and trying not to let the fear slip back in. “You could’ve just… talked to me like a normal person.”

“Normal?” His laugh is low, amused, almost scolding. “I wouldn’t have gotten this view of you if I had done it ‘normally.’”

You narrow your eyes, wrapping the shirt tighter around yourself. “It’s not a game. I don’t want it to be a game.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But you should know… I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… couldn’t help myself.”

“Couldn’t help yourself,” you repeat, voice sharper than you intended. “You’ve been hiding in the shadows, watching me, leaving notes and… gifts, and you call it ‘couldn’t help yourself’?”

"I call it… careful observation. Admiration. You’re worth the patience.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch into the tiniest smirk. “Careful observation… huh? That’s what we’re calling stalking now?”

“Only when you make it sound so serious,” he teases, sitting just close enough that you feel him without being crowded. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

“This isn’t cute, Chan. Not this. Not all of it. You could’ve said something. You could’ve been normal.”

He's putting his arms around your shoulder now. “I know,” he says, almost whispering. “But you’re… worth bending the rules for.”

You feel your throat tighten. Half of you wants to laugh, half wants to scream. Instead, you just sit there, shirt loose around you, hair messy, hands clutching at the fabric like it could anchor you. He’s there. He’s real. And despite the fear, despite the anger, despite everything… you can’t look away.

“Fine,” you mutter finally, voice low, trying to regain some control. “We’ll… talk. But… no more games. No more hiding in shadows.”

He smiles faintly, that infuriating, slow smile. “No promises, princess.” before capturing your lips in a kiss.

You freeze for a moment, then melt into it.

When he pulls back just enough to let you breathe, he opdns his mouth to say something, “You really couldn’t wait to make me beg, huh?”

You smirk despite yourself. “Normal people don’t do what you do.”

“Normal is boring,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Taglist: @hanjifangirlie @stronglychanbiased @0omillo0

(should I tag you next? 👀 just lemme know)

[hoes4minho]

'Silent Hill'

BangChan x Reader

"In my restless dreams, I see that town... Silent Hill,"

18+MDNI

Content warning: graphic violence and gore, body horror, dubcon, smut, Chan is pyramid head okay, so this one's DARK. Viewer discretion is advised. This does not depict Chan IRL in any way. His character is purely for creative purposes only.

@hwangjoanna

You find yourself driving to a cabin you've booked for yourself to get away from the city for the weekend. The cabin is situated at the top of a hill in a small town, but as you drive up, you encounter weird people along the way.

When you reach the halfway mark, you enter a small, desolate-looking town.

The worn sign reads "WELCOME TO SILENT HILL," but you feel anything but welcome.

A thick fog starts to settle in as sunset approaches, strangely quickly. Desperate to get through this eerie town and to the comfort of your luxury cabin, you pull over to the side of the road.

The fog thickens, making it increasingly hard to drive. You have no choice but to walk to the small building, which quickly disappears into the setting sun.

You walk for what seems like almost an hour before you can make out the middle of the town. Gripping your phone, the directions point you to the only building lit in the parade of shops.

As you grow closer, the red neon "BAR" sign comes into view, almost too colourful in this bleak setting. You contemplate for a second whether this is the safest option, but realise it's your only alternative, other than hiking a mile back down the hill and sleeping in your car. You've come this far.

Pushing open the old wooden door, which is damp to the touch, you walk in. It's nearly empty, with a few people scattered around, but none of them sitting together.

You approach the bar and ring the small bell. A man emerges from the back, and he is surprisingly hot and young. His dark eyes narrow as he scans you, his stare predator-like. Something dark washes across his eyes before he cracks into a warm smile.

"Hey, I've never seen you before. You must be new to visiting Silent Hill?" he asks, his voice smooth and deep.

You hesitate before answering, "Uh, no, I'm just passing through. I'm going to a cabin near Toluca Lake for the weekend. My friends are waiting for me there. It's a girls' weekend."

He smirks, "Ah, I see. So, what brings you to stop here?"

"The fog," you reply, gesturing outside. "It's so bad I couldn't see a thing. It's too dangerous to drive. I'm just gonna wait here until it clears and head on."

He seems to smirk when you call the conditions dangerous, which you find odd.

"Well, seeing as you're here now, can I get you something to drink?" he asks, leaning forward to brace himself on the other side of the bar, gesturing towards you, but then catching on that he was asking your name.

"Oh... right, yeah. I'm Y/N. I'll take a Jack and Coke with ice, please," you reply.

"Pretty name for a pretty lady. Nice drink choice. I'm Chan, by the way," he says, turning away to make your drink. Your face burns at his words. You study the back of him, the way his black long sleeve clings to his arms and back. Chan is attractive, yes, but that isn't going to distract you from getting the hell out of this creepy town.

As hot as he is, you have a gut feeling that something isn't right about Silent Hill and its inhabitants. From the six you can currently see in proximity to you, they all seem off. Something isn't right.

Chan turns around, sliding a tumbler of dark brown liquid towards you. You take it, thanking him, and lifting it to your lips to take a sip. It's strong, for sure. You force yourself to remain straight-faced as you swallow. You look up to see Chan staring at you intently as you sip your drink. The bitter, fizzy liquid burns. Chan tilts his head, smiles, and moves away to dry some glasses. You tuck yourself into a booth by the window, hoping the fog clears soon.

A few hours pass. The sun has set, and the fog has gotten bearable. You begin to leave, but Chan stops you, a hand on your forearm.

"Hey, Y/N, leaving so soon?" he asks.

"Yeah, the fog's almost clear now. Thank you for the drink... oh shit, I'm so sorry. I almost forgot," you say, digging into your bag for some cash. But Chan just shakes his head.

"No, no, not that. It's on the house. I mean, you shouldn't go out there alone at this time. It's not safe," he says, his voice taking on a darker tone.

You pull back from his hold, and his eyes soften immediately.

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm a big girl, Chan. I think I'll be okay," you insist, turning to leave. But he pulls you closer, his lips almost to your ear.

"I said it's not safe, Y/N," he repeats, looking into your eyes with that same intense stare from earlier. You pull back out of his hold, and he immediately softens.

"I'm sorry. We have a room upstairs you can stay until morning if you would like," he offers.

You are apprehensive, but after Chan insists, you agree to stay the night. When the bar closes, Chan shows you to the room, stating he is just next door. You settle in for the night.

At 3 AM, you are awakened by the sounds of metal scraping.

You peek out the window to see a large figure of a shirtless man with a pyramid-looking helmet dragging a large sword/butcher knife along the floor.

He is dragging a lady by her foot. She is dressed like an old-timey nurse with bandages covering her face. You want to run to Chan, so you creep across the floor and call for him, but he doesn't answer. You open the door to find it empty.

You run down the hall to the front door, and when you swing it open, there stands the man from the street. Chest heaving, a sheen of sweat across his chiselled pecs, his mask is terrifying up close, with large points and jagged bits of metal sticking out on all three sides. He says nothing as you stand there in shock, his gloved hand reaches out to wrap a strand of your hair around his thick fingers. You stand there immobilised with fear as this monster plays with your hair with unsettling gentleness, as your wide eyes bore into his mask. Your instincts kick back in, and you duck away under his arm.

You try to run away, but your efforts are futile. The Pyramid Head is too swift, too strong. He captures you with ease, his massive gloved hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. You struggle, kicking and screaming, but it's no use. He hauls you over his shoulder, his other hand gripping your thighs, holding you in place. You can feel the cold metal of his helmet pressing against your back, the rough material of his armour digging into your skin.

He carries you through the desolate streets of Silent Hill, the fog thick and heavy around you. You can hear the distant echoes of your own screams, the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. You try to fight, to twist and turn, but his grip is like a vice, unyielding and unbreakable.

“Listen here, you triangle-headed fuck, put me down right now,” you scream in frustration, punching him in the back. It does nothing to phase him, but your words elicit a deep grumble from his chest.

One of his hands moves away from your legs and dips under his mask. You hear a rustle of fabric before a large, warm palm slaps hard down on your ass cheek. “Ow—you motherfucker,” you screech, and you hear what sounds like a chuckle come from under the mask.

He takes you to an abandoned barn on the outskirts of town, the wood rotting and the roof caved in. The door creaks open ominously as he kicks it in, revealing the dark and dusty interior. In the centre of the room is a metal table, cold and stark against the decaying surroundings. He throws you onto it, your body bouncing off the hard surface. You try to scramble away, but he is on you in an instant, his hands pinning you down.

"You're not going anywhere, pretty girl," he growls, his voice a low rumble. "You're mine now." His voice is deep, rough, and distorted but familiar. It makes your stomach twist.

He grabs your wrists, securing them to the table with thick leather restraints. You pull and tug, but they are too tight, too secure. He does the same with your ankles, spreading your legs wide, exposing your most intimate places to his gaze.

You beg, your voice shaking with fear and desperation. "Please, don't do this. Please, let me go."

But he says nothing, regarding you with a cold and detached interest. He runs his gloved hands up your bare legs, his touch sending shivers of revulsion down your spine. You try to squirm away, but the restraints hold you firmly in place.

His hands slide up to your hips, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. He pulls them down, along with your underwear, exposing your pussy to the cool air of the barn. You try to close your legs, but the restraints prevent you from moving. He runs his fingers through your pubic hair, his touch rough and demanding.

"So soft, pretty girl," he growls under the mask. "So delicate."

You whimper, your body trembling as he continues to explore you, his fingers brushing against your clit, sending unwanted waves of pleasure through your body. You try to fight it, to push it away, but it's no use. Your body betrays you, your hips bucking off the table as he teases and torments you.

His fingers slide inside you, stretching and filling you. You moan, your head thrashing from side to side as he fucks you with his fingers, his thumb circling your clit. You can feel the pressure building inside you, the heat spreading through your body. You try to fight it, to hold it back, but it's too strong, too overwhelming.

"You're going to cum for me," he growls. "You're going to cum all over my fingers."

And with that, you do. Your body convulses, your back arching off the table as waves of pleasure crash through you. You scream, your voice echoing through the barn as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, drawing out your orgasm.

But he is not done with you yet. He releases your wrists and ankles, flipping you over onto your stomach. You try to crawl away, but he grabs you by the hips. "Where do you think you're going, princess?" the monster mocks, pulling you back towards him.

He slams into you, his cock thick and hard. You scream, your hands fisting in the metal table as he fucks you, his hips slamming against your ass.

He grabs your hair, pulling your head back, forcing you to look up at him, but all you meet is cold metal. "You feel so good, pretty girl," he growls. "So tight, so wet."

You try to fight him, to push him away, but it's no use. He is too strong, too powerful. You can feel another orgasm building inside you, the heat spreading through your body. You try to hold it back, to fight it, but it's too strong, too overwhelming.

He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, teasing and tormenting you. And with a scream, you cum again, your body convulsing around his cock. He groans, his hips slamming against your ass as he chases his own release.

Just as you come down from your high, he pulls out of you, his cock glistening with your juices. He reaches up, his fingers tracing the edge of his mask. And then, with a slow and deliberate motion, he lifts it off, revealing the face of Chan from the bar.

You stare at him, shock and horror written all over your face. "Chan?" you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He smiles, a cold and cruel smile. "Don't you know, pretty girl," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "People change once the sun goes down in Silent Hill."

He reaches down, his fingers brushing against your pussy, still wet and swollen from his touch. He plays with you, his fingers sliding in and out, making you moan and whimper. "We're all monsters here, sweetheart," his voice was undistorted with a mocking tone to it.

And then, with a sudden and violent motion, he thrusts into you again. You scream, your body convulsing around him as he fucks you like you owed him it, his hips slamming against your ass.

He grabs your hair, pulling your head foward, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are wild, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You're mine now, pretty girl. I'll make you a monster just like me, and you'll love every second," he growls. "You belong to me, to Silent Hill."

And with that, he comes, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you with his seed. You can feel it, hot and wet, spilling out of you, dripping down your thighs. He pulls out of you, his cock glistening. He admires you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you.

"You'll make such a pretty nurse, baby," he says, his voice soft and gentle. "Maybe my favourite one yet."

And with that, darkness claims you, and you black out, your body spent and exhausted.

DISCLAIMER - We do not own the rights to Stray Kids, they are used as inspiration for fiction and the actions in the fic do not represent the idols in real life.

SERIES TAGLIST - @minniesverse @tirena1 1 @chloe-elise-2000 @yunhoish @lilileen25 @staylixxie0325 @yukisroom97 @wilmalovegood @cafemirka @mixxie2203 @stayjinnie @wiccanmetallicrose @fairylix @Mallielovessyou @stg110 @mishahassan71 @Axmeeboshie @tweetyscarrotpie @aizahmoon @juskz @haleyheart0197 @crazy4books1 @Darkkeroticaa @hyukasningdungie @honeyofapollo @thefanficqueen @page-mistress95 - CLOSED

[bimmyjimmy]

Sleeping so peacefully after annoying mom all morning because he *needed* forehead kisses

[bimmyjimmy]

Im not joking, he’s been forcefully giving himself forehead kisses while im unconscious lol

[jimmyhoffathecat]

Dats nice bimmy i stick my fingers in my mom’s nose and pull her nostril so she feeds me

[cruellesummer]

And, baby, that’s show business for you 

[straykidsmedia]

[NOTICE] Stray Kids' Bang Chan has donated a total of 200 million won to UNICEF Korea and the Samsung Medical Centre (100 million won each)!

[250318]

[250318]

© LALi CHAN | do not edit and/or crop logo

[straykidsmedia]

Stray Kids' Seungmin and I.N singing at a wedding ceremony today!

[minchanlove]

realstraykids instagram update! 💌

It‘s 🐺’s birthday🪐

[minchanlove]

1003

Enjoy the videos and music you love, upload original content, and share it all with friends, family, and the world on YouTube.

Bang Chan birthday live! 💕

[hanjisngs]

beeeen working on a lil something😏😏😏 what would you guys say to a lil brothers bestfriend channie fic? since you guys have been begging me to write another chan smut??

should it be two chapters (first is buildup, second is pure PORN) or one?

one

two

Voting ended onSep 27, 2025

[nybrolocolo]

AHSGHD SHES FEEDUNG USSSSSSS

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Tumblr being the "piss on the poor" reading comprehension site makes sense when you realize that 79% of adults in the US are functionally illiterate. Same goes for Twitter and TikTok.

that's a real high number, sport. where'd you get it?

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey anon

please tell me you didn't google "US literacy rates" and then make the funniest possible mistake one could make in that situation

[skzophreniic]

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐩𝐚𝐰 | boxer!bang chan au 🥊

pairing: boxer!bang chan × med student!reader genre: sports drama · angst · smut · hurt/comfort status: ongoing warnings: violence, boxing injuries, blood, medical themes, corruption, grief, trauma, character death, explicit smut (eventually), unhealthy coping mechanisms

Christopher Bahng lives for the ring—the pain, the pressure, the promise of glory. You’ve already lost someone you loved to a fight they couldn’t win. When your worlds collide, obsession meets resistance, and every round brings you closer to a choice: protect him, or watch him destroy himself. Because in boxing, no one leaves the ring untouched—and not every fight is fair.

taglist: open! (comment under this post to be added) notes: writing a series is taking me back to my wattpad era. i just know this will be fun to write and hopefully fun for you guys to read lol. once this is finished, i'll be doing a bonus q&a chapter where you guys can send in questions for all the characters :)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Prologue

Chapter 1 — The Match

Chapter 2 — Pretty, Pretty.

Chapter 3 — Signed

Chapter 4 — Blood in the Water

Chapter 5 — His Name Was Kim Seungmin

Chapter 6 — Betrayal in the Corner

Chapter 7 — The Fall (or The Rise)

Chapter 8 — The Bell Tolls

Epilogue

Bonus Chapter!

[crescent003]

Silver Temptation

Pairing: Bang Chan x Wife!Reader Genre: Fluff, Domestic, Smut, Established Relationship Word Count: ~3.5k Summary: Chan comes home with freshly dyed silver hair. Your one-year-old isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at Daddy’s new look… but once the baby’s asleep, you finally get to appreciate just how dangerously good your husband looks.

Warnings: smut (oral f. receiving, unprotected sex, praise kink, soft dom!Chan, lots of kissing, aftercare). Fluff and domestic themes throughout.

—————————————————————————————————— The morning sunlight spilled softly across the living room as you balanced your one-year-old son on your hip. He was babbling to himself, small fingers clutching at your shirt while you swayed gently to keep him calm. Life with a toddler was messy, loud, and exhausting—but also full of these little pockets of sweetness that made you feel like your heart might burst.

You heard the front door click shut, followed by the sound of shoes being toed off and a duffel bag hitting the floor.

“Daddy’s home,” you whispered, smiling down at your son.

His little head perked up, eyes widening as he recognized the voice singing lightly from the hallway. “Hey, my loves!”

Bang Chan appeared, still in his hoodie and joggers, hair slightly damp from a quick rinse at the studio. But today… something was different. You blinked.

His hair.

It wasn’t the usual warm brown you’d grown used to running your fingers through. It wasn’t the blond phases or the darker shades he’d played with before. No—his hair was a striking, cool grey that caught the light in a way that made him look effortlessly mature and heartbreakingly gorgeous.

Your mouth actually went dry.

Chan’s smile softened when he saw you holding the baby, but then his attention shifted to your son, who had stopped mid-wiggle. The baby stared at him—long and hard. His chubby brows furrowed, lips trembling slightly.

And then, a tiny whimper.

Chan froze. “Uh oh…”

The baby buried his face into your neck, peeking out at Chan like he was a stranger.

“Love, what happened?” Chan chuckled nervously, touching his hair self-consciously. “It’s just me.”

You tried not to laugh, but the situation was too adorable. “I think…” you whispered, bouncing your son gently, “he doesn’t recognize you.”

Chan gasped dramatically, hand over his chest. “My own son? Already betrayed me?”

The baby whined again, eyes still fixed on the unfamiliar silver locks. You could practically see the gears turning in his little head—Daddy smells the same, sounds the same… but why does Daddy look different?

You stroked your son’s back, soothing him while you grinned at your husband. “I mean… to be fair, you do look really different.”

Chan tilted his head. “Different bad or different good?”

Your cheeks warmed as you looked at him properly for the first time, really taking in the sharpness it gave his features, how the grey made his skin glow, how it highlighted the deep warmth in his eyes. It was… unfair, really.

“Different… dangerously good,” you admitted under your breath.

Chan’s smirk returned instantly, dimples flashing. “Oh?”

The baby squealed at his tone, confused again, and clung tighter to you. You rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“Don’t tease,” you whispered, biting back a smile. “Your son thinks you’re an intruder.”

Chan crouched down a little, softening his voice. “Hey, buddy. It’s still Daddy. Look—same smile, same hugs.” He reached his arms out gently, not pushing too much.

The baby considered it for a long moment, lips wobbly, then cautiously reached one pudgy hand out to tug at Chan’s hoodie strings.

“See? Still me,” Chan murmured, kissing his tiny fingers.

Your son blinked, eyes darting up to the silver hair again, but this time he didn’t cry. Instead, he let out a questioning little “Da?”

Chan’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Da. Daddy.” He scooped him carefully from your arms, peppering kisses all over his cheeks until the baby giggled despite himself.

You crossed your arms, watching the two of them with a smile tugging at your lips. It was the same sight you saw every day—your husband with his whole world in his arms—but the grey hair added a new layer, like you were suddenly looking at him in a new light.

A light that made your stomach flip and your heart race.

Chan caught your gaze over your son’s head, reading you instantly. His lips curved in that teasing, knowing way that always made your knees weak.

Yeah. You were in trouble tonight.

Dinner was a blur of highchair mess, mashed veggies smeared on the table, and your son shrieking happily every time Chan made airplane noises with the spoon. You couldn’t stop smiling—even when you were on cleanup duty—because Chan looked so content. His silver hair fell into his eyes as he leaned forward, soft laugh echoing through the kitchen every time your son giggled back.

Eventually, bath time came. The routine was familiar: Chan hummed soft melodies while holding your slippery toddler steady in the water, you scrubbed carefully, and together you wrangled pajamas onto a wiggly, giggling body.

By the time your son was tucked into his crib, a lullaby humming from the small speaker and his little chest rising and falling in peaceful sleep, you felt the kind of bone-deep exhaustion only parents could understand.

You leaned against the nursery doorway, whispering, “Finally.”

Chan came up behind you, arms sliding around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “Finally,” he echoed, but his voice carried a warmth that wasn’t just about rest.

You turned slightly, meeting his gaze in the dim hallway light. Up close, the silver strands shimmered, and you felt that strange little flutter in your chest again.

“You really like it,” he murmured, eyes searching yours.

You tried to play it cool, even though your pulse betrayed you. “It’s… not bad.”

He raised an eyebrow, lips quirking. “Not bad?”

You smirked, leaning closer. “Okay, fine. It’s… ridiculously sexy. You look like you stepped out of some drama where the mysterious, devastatingly handsome man breaks hearts without trying.”

Chan chuckled, low and pleased, dimples flashing. “And here I was worried my wife wouldn’t like it.”

You scoffed softly. “Your wife is currently wondering how fast she can get her son back to sleep tomorrow night just to have you all to herself.”

That earned you a quiet groan, his forehead pressing into your neck as he held you tighter. “Don’t say things like that when I can’t touch you properly in the hallway.”

You laughed, swatting his arm lightly before tugging him toward the bedroom.

Once the door closed behind you, the atmosphere shifted. No baby monitor beeping, no toys scattered across the floor, no sticky hands tugging at your shirt. Just you, Chan, and the soft lamplight casting a warm glow over the room.

He leaned back against the dresser, watching you with that lazy, smoldering gaze that always unraveled you. His fingers raked through his hair—silver glinting against tan skin—and you swore he knew exactly what he was doing.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your composure. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes were hungry.

“Like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

Chan smirked. “Maybe I am.”

You took a slow step toward him, heart hammering. “Bold.”

“Honest,” he countered, tugging you flush against him the moment you were within reach. His hands splayed across your back, holding you like he’d been waiting all day for this exact moment.

You curled your fingers into his hoodie, tilting your head up. The grey hair caught your attention again, and before you could stop yourself, you reached up to run your fingers through it.

He closed his eyes, sighing softly. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

“Actually,” you whispered, brushing a strand back from his forehead, “I think I do.”

His laugh was soft, breath warm against your lips as he kissed you—slow at first, then deeper, more insistent, like he couldn’t get enough.

It had been a long day, but in that kiss, in his arms, you forgot about the exhaustion, the mess, the endless routine. All that existed was the two of you, tangled together in the quiet of your shared space.

Your lips moved in sync, hungry and desperate, as though you’d both been starving all day. Chan pressed you back against the dresser, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, effortlessly lifting you until you wrapped your legs around his waist.

The kiss broke only when he needed air, his forehead pressed against yours, chest heaving. His voice was low, rough. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

You smiled breathlessly. “Me? You’re the one who came home looking like—” your eyes flicked up to his hair, “—that.”

He smirked, lips brushing your jaw as he trailed kisses down your neck. “So you really like it.”

Your fingers tugged lightly at the silver strands. “I love it.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He carried you to the bed, laying you down carefully before crawling over you, his weight pressing you deliciously into the mattress. His hoodie was the first casualty—you tugged it up and over his head, revealing the toned chest and arms you knew so well.

Your hands roamed greedily, memorizing the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl.

When his hand slipped under your shirt, you gasped softly, arching into his touch.

“Still so sensitive,” he whispered against your lips, palming your breast gently through the fabric. “Even after all this time.”

You bit back a moan. “Chan—”

“Shh.” His mouth found your collarbone, sucking lightly until you whimpered. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he did.

Piece by piece, he undressed you with a reverence that made your heart ache. Every kiss, every touch was worship, like he couldn’t believe you were his. The cool strands of his silver hair brushed against your skin as he trailed kisses down your stomach, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

When his mouth finally settled between your thighs, you muffled a cry against your hand, hips jerking at the first flick of his tongue.

“Always so sweet,” he murmured, glancing up at you with eyes dark and full of heat. “Let me taste you, baby.”

You could only nod, already too far gone.

He worked you slowly at first, tongue teasing, savoring every reaction. But when your legs started trembling and your moans grew desperate, he held you steady, devouring you with a hunger that left you dizzy.

Your release hit hard, your back arching as you cried out his name. He didn’t stop until you tugged gently at his hair, gasping for breath.

Chan crawled back up, kissing you softly, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Good?”

You laughed weakly, still trembling. “You’re asking me that after that?”

He grinned, dimples flashing. “I like hearing it.”

You pulled him down for another kiss, rolling your hips against his. The hard length pressing against you left no doubt what he needed.

“Please,” you whispered.

That single word broke whatever restraint he had left. He shed the rest of his clothes quickly, then aligned himself with you, pausing just long enough to kiss you deeply before sliding inside.

The stretch made you moan, nails digging into his shoulders.

“God—” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “You feel perfect.”

He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch, every sound you made. His pace built gradually, each thrust deeper, harder, until you were clinging to him, whimpering against his ear.

The bed creaked softly under the rhythm of your bodies, but the world outside ceased to exist. There was only Chan—his warmth, his strength, the love in his eyes every time he looked at you.

“Look at me,” he whispered, tilting your chin until your eyes locked. “I want to see you when you fall apart for me.”

And you did.

The second orgasm crashed over you with blinding intensity, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name. He followed soon after, groaning into your shoulder as he spilled inside you, holding you as if he’d never let go.

For a long moment, you just lay there together, sweaty, tangled, and blissfully spent. His hand stroked your hair, his breathing gradually steadying.

“Still scared of Daddy’s hair, huh?” he joked softly, voice hoarse but teasing.

You laughed weakly, swatting his chest. “Your son might be. Your wife, on the other hand…” You kissed him gently, savoring the taste of him. “She’s obsessed.”

He smiled, eyes softening as he kissed your forehead. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

You curled into him, heart full, body sated, and knew that silver hair or not, he’d always be the man you’d choose a thousand times over.

[torturequeen]

When u just listeninf to music and it unbuttons your pants and touches U sexually

[torturequeen]

Stop reblogging this with ShitFag music Im Serious

[indisc3rnib13]

please... anyone...

[torturequeen]

Who Are You

[bnghvn]

"BANG CHAN TAKES LEGAL ACTION AGAINST USERS WHO POST MALICIOUS DEEPFAKE VIDEOS ON SNS"

LET’S FUCKING GO GUYS!!!

literally karma