hi!! this is p3ndeja6's (me) masterlist of everything i've done so far. I usually do this sort of writing as a hobby (hence the lack of posting) and usually post whenever i can. i write about everything but as of now only skz (other groups in the future?).
also i don't mind any requests you may have in mind!! though i do have to warn, i probably wont get to it on time because I am a full time college student with butt tons of work (save me) so bare with me (◞‸ ◟)
i will be updating whenever i post (also pls dont mind the messy format of this masterlist) and maybe give sneak peeks of upcoming works (๑>•̀๑)
I hope you enjoy!
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categories: 🫧Fluff, 🥀Angst, 💥Smut, 🪷 Slice of Life
Chan fucking housewife!reader back to sleep after you woke up to make his lunch before work. ( ◠‿◠ )
Tags: smut, p and v, slight choking, pretty vanilla tbh
A/n: this is probs the longest fic you’ll ever get from me so I apologize for how rushed it is
You had just finished making the cutest bento ever when you heard the trudge of Chan’s sneakers going down the wooden stairs. Seeing the gleam in your eyes when he turned the corner was already enough to make Chan’s day, but when he looked down to see a bento box filled with rice in the shape of a panda, glazed cutlets, and veggies? His heart began to swirl with a mix of emotions.
Chan loved being able to provide for you, he knew you were more than capable of taking care yourself but he couldn’t help it, It was his favorite thing in the world. So the day you told him you would finally let him take care of you financially, he was overjoyed. But there was something about seeing you so happy to take care of him. His heart swelled with pride but also filled with lust. His little housewife always so good for him
“Do you like it?” He was fully prepared to suppress his lust to show his gratitude to you. But then you looked up at him with those beautiful, pleading eyes he just couldn’t resist and any resolve he had tried to build melted. He’d have to show you just how grateful he is.
Your head is spinning with his scent. You truly didn’t expect him to react like this when he saw the bento box. One minute he was hugging you from behind littering your neck with sweet kisses of gratitude and the other you’re bent over the counter with Chan ramming into you from behind, thick enough to press every ridges inside you.
Your knees buckled a long time ago, now, the only thing holding you up was Chan’s hand wrapped tightly around your neck. “Fuck you feel so good. Exactly what I needed to start my day.” Your moans bounced off of the walls filling the room with the sweet symphony of you.
The wet slapping of your skin with his was damn near hypnotic. “Such a good girl making lunch for me this early. I’m gonna do you a favor and fuck you right back to sleep yeah?”
“Chris please” You don’t even know what begging for anymore. Your mind is too foggy to think and your body is numb with that beautiful pressure building deep inside of you. “You gonna cum for me pretty girl?” He knows you’re too far gone to answer but he still asks you anyway. And the way you’re pulsing around him already gave him his answer.
“That’s it beautiful, let go for me” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as pure serenity washes over you. Chan groans in response to you gripping him like a vice and his thrusts begin picking up in pace. “Channie I can’t!” You cry out.
“You can take it baby I know you can” His grip is tight on your hip but neither of you even care. Chan cums with one final groan buried deep in the nape of your neck. His grip on you finally loosens and you collapse against the counter— delirious and weak from your previous antics. As you drift into sleep you fall limp into Chan’s chest when he picks you up. You faintly recall the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear when he tucked you gently into your shared bed. The last thing you remember before you drift into sleep was a kiss on the forehead and the words “Thank you for food baby” fall from Chan’s lips.
hi guys .. i’ve been on a “break” or hiatus or break or whatever you wanna call it. i’ve been writers blocked for a long time now, i can’t seem to find my groove you know? so.. IM BACK and I’ll try to post my obvious drafts /finish them soon. currently heading towards finals week at my uni… so.. hooray..? anyway this is where i encourage to invite you all to send some requests (not 100 percent certain i’ll post it right away so pls forgive 😭) but it’s a start. inspire me, homies.
genre: smut!! minors will be hunted for sport
contains: drabbles – you and each member desperately need each other but are so so tired :(
wc: 4k (~ 500 each)
♡ note: a reupload. i'll say it until the end of time, but i'm incredibly, freakishly grateful for the love the original series received <3
divider by @lariesographic / my masterlist
CHAN
Any reasonable person would be sleeping at this hour. You were asleep before Chan woke you, visibility exhausted and desperate for relief. He climbs into bed and presses himself into your back, large hands reaching around to your inner thighs. “Please, pretty girl, just let me do something, anything,” he whispers against your skin.
He rarely says what he needs so plainly, even rarer that he’s willing to beg. You can’t deny him, especially not when he grazes his fingers over your clit just to hear you gasp.
The room is dark, the only light flickering in from the moonlight and a bedside lamp he switched on. In his eyes, you’re glowing, always so perfect for him. Shadows dance across his chest as you move.
He lets out a content sigh as you sink down onto him. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers almost inaudibly. He clenches his jaw, like he’s trying so hard to keep still. You pause once he’s fully inside, taking your time to adjust to his size.
He props himself up on his elbows, unable to stop himself from staring at where he disappears inside of you. Slowly, experimentally, you roll your hips. His mouth falls open at the movement. A small amount of sweat already causes his biceps to glisten in the low light. You moan, and his eyes snap up to admire your blissed expression.
You keep grinding, feeling him hit the perfect spot inside you, clit brushing against him with every motion. Fuck, he’s so good for you. You chase your high by speeding up ever so slightly. He grips your waist and sets a slower pace himself. “ - Gonna kill me,” he whimpers, “Not gonna last.”.
He can’t help himself - he thrusts once up into you, still moving your hips. You let out a choked moan, eyes squeezing shut. He can see how weak you are - sleepiness and pleasure finally overtaking you. He takes the opportunity to sit up and hold you against his chest. You never stop your motions.
The new angle has his cock reaching deeper inside. He feels you squeeze tighter, and his head falls to your shoulder. He’s done for when you breathe his name like it’s the only thing you remember. He needs you to come with him, needs you to feel just as good as he is.
He reaches between your thighs and rubs small circles on your clit. A few more delicious motions, and both of your highs hit you together. He lets out a final moan, lightly biting your skin in an attempt to be quiet, and you feel the familiar warmth inside you. You try to ride out your own pleasure, but falter, his name falling from your lips as his fingers stay on your clit.
He keeps holding you against him, giving you both time to catch your breath. Eventually, he chuckles quietly and softly kisses your neck. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs. He falls back with you into the mattress, whispering his praises until you fall asleep again.
MINHO
The entire world has faded to just you two in his hotel room. Minho’s sighs and flustered groans ring in sync with your heavenly grinds. His upper back is pressed against the headboard. It must be uncomfortable, but he doesn't seem to even know where he is right now. Usually he’s a lot more composed than this. Usually, he wouldn’t just let you climb on his lap, tease your tongue down his neck, whisper how good he’s being in his ear. However, his muscles are heavy after performing, and you looked so sweet asking, of course he gave in to you.
The view of you is enough to draw out an unhurried smile that reveals his bunny teeth. His gleaming eyes search yours – intent on mentally cataloguing everything about this moment. That focus doesn’t last long. All it takes is one more small bounce, one more of your barely-contained gasps, and his head lolls backwards. His eyelids shutter halfway closed, but he never stops watching you. You’re squeezing around him perfectly, and you’re so warm in his arms, fuck, he can’t remember why you don’t do this more often.
You’re beautiful like this. Moaning for him. Full of him. Giving everything to him, just as he gives everything to you. “C’mere,” he murmurs before pulling you further into his embrace. He kisses you, slow and sensual, absorbing your sounds as you keep rocking on him. His cock drags along your fluttering walls with every movement. Still working his lips against yours, he brings his hand down between your bodies to circle your clit in time with your grinds. As if reading the other’s mind, both of you speed up at once, chasing both your highs.
Eventually, you have to pull away to breathe. “Minho,” you pant, gripping your nails into his shoulders, “Minho, feelsogood.”
His cock twitches in you. His name, lovely and melodic, falling from your lips alone is almost enough to send him over the edge. Combined with your warm cunt pulling him in and the slight pain digging into his shoulders, he’s so close. He can tell you are too; your motions are starting to falter as heat builds inside you. His free hand holds your waist steady, helping guide you through the motions.
Another roll of your hips. Another gorgeous moan. “Baby, fuck,” is all the warning he can give. He groans your name, his grip tightens around you, and you feel the familiar warmth inside you. His orgasm triggers your own. Overwhelming pleasure washes over your body with Minho still circling your clit in an attempt to help work you through it.
After a few seconds, the stimulation gets too much. He chuckles as you gently swat his hand away from your core. Still his lap, he straightens his positioning to get even closer to you. “Come back,” he whispers, connecting your lips again, holding you as you melt into him.
CHANGBIN
How could he ever resist his princess, laying in his bed like she knows she belongs there?
You knew what he wanted the moment he crawled back beside you. He didn’t bother putting clothes back on after his post-gym shower. The scent of his body wash surrounds you, cozily tucked into the blankets. His damp hair is still slightly clinging to his skin. He leans in and gently kisses your shoulder. “G’morning,” he whispers against your skin.
You kiss him in response. His groan is stifled in your mouth, but his arms wrap around your waist and easily shift you on top of him. You giggle at the sudden show of strength, matching his own smile at finally being able to feel you. He missed you so badly.
He adjusts your hips slowly, giving you time to stop him if you want. You don’t. He moans as you sink down onto him, whispering “Fuck, princess,” into the cool air. “You don’t know what you do to me”. His head falls backwards onto the pillow. You take him so well. You pause, adjusting to his size, and his hands tighten on your hips, like he’s trying to contain himself.
You sit up to straddle him and finally move, dragging your hips once back and forth. He bites back a gasp. God. He’s deep inside you now. You’re gorgeous on top of him. Even when you’re still sleepy, chasing your pleasure, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
Underneath you, his muscles glow in the morning light. He’s heartbreakingly gentle with his touches, like he’s conscious of his own strength even like this. He almost loses it when you meet his eyes and smile back, so so perfect for him.
Another roll of your hips. His cock slowly drags against your walls at your relaxed pace, and he’s no longer trying to hide his sounds. You speed up ever so slightly, chasing your own high. His eyes squeeze shut. Curses and pretty moans fall from his lips the more you keep going, the more you keep perfectly squeezing around him.
You’re lost in him. Every motion brings you closer. He’s filling you perfectly, and your clit grazes him at every movement. You lean forward, anchoring your arms on his chest for support “Baby, fuck,” you breathe out, and his eyes snap open again to check on you.
He groans at the sight - he can’t help it. You look wrecked for him. He’s not going to last. He needs you to come with him, fuck, he’s already holding back.
You feel him start rubbing lazy circles on your clit in rhythm with your pace. Your choked cry is music to his ears. His other hand catches you when you slump forward, not able to support yourself anymore. “I know, princess,” he groans, voice as wrecked as you feel. “I know, I’ve got you.”
Pressed against his chest, your release washes over you. He tries to keep rubbing your clit, his fingers faltering from the feeling of being squeezed tighter as yours continues. His own high hits him, and he moves his hand up to hold you as you feel the familiar warmth inside you.
He doesn’t let go afterwards. You’re laying on him, wrapped in his arms, and he swears he’s in heaven. “Let’s just stay here,” he whispers, “for a little bit longer.” You nod against him. He has no intention of moving anytime soon.
HYUNJIN
The only sounds in the room are your intertwined moans and the creak of the bedframe, matching the steady rhythm of your grinds against him. Sleepiness still lingers in the air, but right now, you each want to make the other feel good. “That’s my girl - fuck,” he moans from below you. Tiny amounts of sweat clings his hair to his skin. His hands grip your waist, not bruising, just guiding. “You feel so good - always s’good for me.”
He fills you up so well. The angle has him hitting the perfect spot, and your clit brushes against him with every grind. Every movement brings you closer to your release.
You roll your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him deep inside you. He sucks in a sharp breath. His grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly. A whine escapes his lips, eyes quickly darting to yours to check if you heard it.
Of course you did. You smile back down at him and repeat the motion, enjoying the view of his head falling back as he stifles another whine. One hand drops from your waist to cling to the rumpled bedsheets, like he’s holding himself back.
Another roll of your hips. His cock pushes further in, causing your knees to weaken from pleasure. You whimper, “Hyunjin, baby -”
“I know, I’ve got you,” he breathes, and brings his hands up to support your weight. You let your body slump forward, leaning your arms against his chest as you try to keep your rhythm. His gaze lingers on your breasts, swaying as you move.
Your pace falters more with each delicious grind, your high quickly approaching. He feels your walls clench around him and he knows you won’t last much longer. Neither will he. He needs you to come with him, but fuck, he’s already almost there.
His eyes clench tight, one of his signs that he’s close. “Baby, please,” he begs, for nothing specifically and everything at once. He grabs your hand and guides it to your clit, choking on a sob as he watches you rub small circles in rhythm with your pace.
Your orgasms overtake you at once. His name falls from your lips over and over, like a prayer, as waves of pleasure wash over you. He groans as he spills familiar warmth deep inside you.
Afterwards, you lean forwards, laying on his chest. He runs a hand through your hair, pausing every so often to kiss the top of your forehead. He whispers, “I love you,” against your forehead. Eventually, the two of you drift off to sleep, still tangled in each other.
HAN
Everyone else is asleep. He should be quiet. He should stop moaning. However, he’s buried deep inside his pretty girl, and he wouldn’t notice if the world ended right now. You’re on his lap, kissing down his neck, driving him insane. He angles his head to give you more space, and moans even louder as you take advantage of it.
You shift your weight, pushing him deeper inside you. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder. Everything about him - his scent, his touch, him - invades your senses. He’s brushing the perfect spot, and you’re not even moving yet. Like he’s reading your mind, he slightly squeezes your hips, his fingers digging into where they rest.
His eyes are big behind his glasses. His chest rises and falls with how heavily he’s breathing.
You rotate your hips, enjoying the view of his eyes rolling back into his skull. You moan in tandem - the sensation is too delicious for you to stop now. You repeat your motions. His high-pitched whine only spurs you forward, chasing the sensation of his cock hitting deep inside you again and again. His nails dig deeper into your skin. Already, the pain mixed with pleasure is almost too much.
He’s not doing much better. Each time you moan his name brings him closer to the edge. He needs you to finish before him. He moves his hand to grip your inner thigh, thumb barely brushing your clit. He looks up at you, tears shining in his eyes. “Can I, please?” he breathes out.
You nod so fast your vision slightly blurs.
“thankyouthankyouthankyou”
Then he’s pressing slightly harder, rubbing lazy circles while staring intently at where he’s connected to you. His glasses fall slightly down his nose. He doesn’t care.
Fuck. Your movements get sloppier as the pleasure builds. His bedframe scrapes against the wall as you speed up. He’s incapable of forming words, just babbling half-sentences of praise. “Fuck, baby - so good for me - please - fucking please,” spills out.
He can feel how close you are with how you clench around him. He just needs to hold on for a bit longer. He keeps rubbing your clit, and lifts himself up to kiss you. His lips work against yours, hoping he can convey his passion through it.
Your orgasm hits you like a train. Your moans grow in volume as you try to ride it out. He never stops rubbing your clit. His own follows closely behind yours, spilling deep inside you. He breaks the kiss to repeat your name like a prayer.
You fall against his chest, both of you panting as you come down. His arms engulf you and squeeze you tighter against him. “Thank you,” he whispers against your cheek. Reluctantly, he moves you off his lap and ensures you’re comfortable laying against him. You two stay like that, holding each other, until you both drift off to sleep.
FELIX
His deep moans amplify the lust residing in the air. The only light comes from his long-forgotten PC, the abandoned login screen illuminating you two on his bed. Felix forgot the game exists. Right now, he’s just focused on trying to control himself as you roll your hips on top of him.
You’re in his arms, making out with him, running your fingers through his long hair. You’re always so perfect for him. Always his ethereal angel. He’s already lost in you, and you’ve barely started. As you continue your slow movements, he breaks your kiss to brush a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, whispering, “so, so beautiful,” almost to himself. His cock twitches just from your resulting sweet smile.
You take your time, enjoying every inch of him. Your clit brushes against him with every movement. Your quiet moans are the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. He would stay here listening to you forever, if you let him.
He’s vaguely aware he has a roommate on the other side of the wall, but that awareness is waning by the second. It’s gone completely when you speed up, chasing the feeling of him hitting deep inside you. He lets out a choked groan. His abs flex with restraint, like he’s holding himself back.
Curses mixed with your name spill from his lips. One hand gently lands on your inner thigh, then travels over to your clit, rubbing small circles in rhythm with your motions. Your eyes squeeze shut, entirely focused on your building pleasure.
“Look at me, angel,” his low voice breathes out. “Please.” Of course you do, and fuck, he looks divine. His freckled cheeks twinge pink. His long hair falls messily over his shoulders. He holds your gaze and sighs, “That’s my girl.”
You clench around him at the praise, and he swears he sees heaven for a moment. His head falls back into the pillow behind him as he keeps babbling, “Feels so good - always s’good - angel, fuck.” A few more motions, and you weaken from the sensations, leaning forward to steady yourself on his chest. Your combined moans fill the room.
God, he’s so close, but he needs you to come with him. His fingers speed up on your clit, rubbing faster circles as he revels in your noises. Your highs hit together. He moans even deeper as you feel the familiar warmth inside you. Your hips falter on him as you try to ride out your waves of pleasure. He works you through it, still babbling out his love for you.
Afterwards, he wraps his arms around you once more, pressing you into his bare chest. “Thank you, angel,” he whispers into your hair. He holds you against him, wrapped up in his sheets and each other, until you both drift off to sleep.
SEUNGMIN
Seungmin could not care less about the rest of his members going about their nightly routines outside his door. Why would he, when you’re in his arms, making out with him, slowly rolling your hips like you have all the time in the world. You do, as far as he’s concerned. He never rushes with you if he can help it.
Your hands are laced in his hair, absentmindedly twirling some longer strands between your fingers. He moans at the sensation every so often. Right now, he would do anything if it meant you would stay in his bed, making him feel so good he’s about to start seeing stars. Your lips are so soft against his, and he’s fitting wonderfully inside you - squeezing like you are perfectly made for him.
You pause your movements for a moment, and he actually whines. He pulls away from the kiss to steady his breathing. His efforts are futile - his breaths quickening again when you sit up, him still inside you, and graze your fingers over his chest. The new angle is pushing him in deeper than he was before. He moans your name and leans his head back into the pillows beneath him.
You resume your motions, feeling every inch of his cock hitting deep inside you. He genuinely might lose it from the sight alone. His hands rub up and down on your thighs, trying to feel as much of you as possible. He can’t help himself - moaned snippets of praise spill out of his mouth faster than he can register his own words. “Fuck, baby - so good - oh my god - you’re beautiful,” is just part of what you’re able to catch.
Your clit brushes against him with every grind. The sensation is delicious, paired with Seungmin’s whimpering voice and him staring up at you like you’re a goddess, you’re not going to last. He’s not either - he’s babbling more with each passing second. From below you, he stares up, suddenly looking more desperate. “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispers, and thrusts lightly up into you.
You weaken from it, leaning forward onto him. He takes advantage of the position to kiss you again. “I’m yours,” you whisper against his lips.
That does it. His head falls forward into your shoulder, whining softly again, as you feel the familiar warmth inside you. Your own orgasm follows quickly afterwards, pleasure washing over you, your pace faltering as you try to ride it out.
For a few moments, neither of you move. He rubs small circles on your back as he attempts to recover from the slight overstimulation. Eventually, you begin to get off him, only to be met with him lightly grabbing you, keeping you in place. “Don’t,” he murmurs, “please.”
JEONGIN
He’s most beautiful in the quiet moments. He’s ethereal always, but there’s something about the unguarded version of Jeongin, with messy hair, easy smiles, and holding you close like he can’t fathom ever letting you slip away, that always gets you needing more. Outside, the low hum of others in the same space filters through the bottom of his door, but they might as well be lightyears away for all the attention Jeongin pays them. It’s easy to forget that anyone else exists. It’s easy to revel in each other, barriers shed, until every stress, every thought vanishes.
You pull away from the kiss first, Jeongin’s eyes still closed and moving to follow after you, a line of spit that should be much more obscene than it actually is connecting the two of you. “Can’t wait anymore,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. “Please,” he adds, “just want you.” Underneath you, his flannel pajama bottoms tent seemingly painfully. You’re not doing much better.
“Anything for you,” you breathe, intended as teasing, but it comes out more like an admission. Regardless, it has the desired effect, a strangled groan leaving him as he shimmies out of his clothes with record-breaking speed.
Your moans intertwine as you sink down onto him. You’ve done this countless times, and will be in this position countless more, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the delicious pressure in the first few seconds. He knows this, too, if his barely-contained smug expression is anything to go by. It vanishes when you roll your hips, feeling his cock deep inside you. His forehead falls forward onto your shoulder, his hair tickles your collarbone. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose.
“Fuck,” he groans into your skin, “you’re so good at that.” As if to accentuate his point, he can’t contain a sharp inhale as your movements speed up.
Like mirror images of each other, the cockiness on your face is wiped away as his fingers find your clit to rub small circles in sync with your grinds. Raising his head again, his gleaming eyes search yours, soaking in your pleasure as much as he can. He can’t help himself; he thrusts up once, smiling again at your gasp. He pulls you in to kiss you again, lips working against yours, only broken by the moans escaping both of you.
Your movements falter the more your pleasure builds. Jeongin notices. Of course he does – he notices everything about you. His fingernails dig into where they rest on your hip, surely leaving crescents to discover in the morning, and without breaking rhythm, he takes over setting the pace himself.
It doesn’t take long with Jeongin fitting perfectly inside you, his fingers circling your clit, his lips heated against yours. Your release washes over you with a cry of his name. He keeps moving you, keeps touching you, to help you ride it out. A few more motions, and he follows, your name falling from his lips.
A few moments pass. He holds you pressed against his chest as you both catch your breath, Eventually, you move to get off him, but his grip only tightens, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Stay here with me,” he whispers.
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tsukishima keeps your relationship so private that some guy tries hitting on you in front of him and it leads him to taking you in his car ! mdni.
you were tucked against kei’s side in the quiet corner of the campus cafe after your last lecture, his long fingers lazily scrolling on his phone while you sipped your matcha drink and tried not to stare too hard at how pretty he looked when he wasn’t trying. nobody really knew about you two, not properly anyway.
he liked it that way. no one being nosy about your relationship, and because he believes he didn’t need to go parading his personal life or your relationship to everyone. you never pushed too because seeing him relax around you in private and him being a good boyfriend to you was enough and worth all of it.
but today some guy from your psych class slid into the seat across from you, all bright smile and easy confidence, leaning in way too close as if kei wasn’t there. “hey, you always come here? thought maybe we could grab coffee sometime, just us.” the words hung there and kei’s thumb paused on his screen, his golden eyes flicking up slow. he didn’t say anything right away, just that tiny tilt of his head, the one that meant he’s kinda pissed.
you laughed it off, mumbling something polite, but the guy kept going, complimenting your notes from last week n asking for your number like your boyfriend wasn’t even sitting next to you.
kei’s jaw flexed once. twice. then he stood up all tall, phone slipping into his pocket as he reached for ur wrist. “you done? we’re leaving.” his voice was flat, almost bored, but the grip on ur hand was tighter than usual, thumb pressing into your pulse like he needed to feel it race.
he didn’t let go till you were both in the parking lot, the late afternoon sun turning everything golden and warm. his car was parked at the far end, tinted windows hiding everything like always. he opened the passenger door for you without a word, but the second you were inside he leaned over and kissed you hard, tongue shoving in like he was staking claim right there in the open.
“that asshole has a nerve,” he muttered against ur mouth, breath hot. “acting like that as if i wasn’t there... thinking he has a shot on you, huh?”
he pulled away and started driving.
the engine purred on and he drove off campus slowly, one hand on the wheel, the other already sliding up your thigh under your skirt. the tension in his shoulders was new, all sharp edges and quiet fury that made your tummy flip in the best way. he pulled into the empty lot behind the old gym building, engine still running low as he killed the lights.
“c’mere.”
“k-kei... here??”
“here. don’t make me repeat myself.”
you climbed over the console fast, knees bracketing his hips on the driver seat, skirt bunching up around your waist. his hands were everywhere at once, bunching your skirt around your waist, yanking your panties aside and freeing his fat cock in one quick motion. he was already so hard, tip flushed and leaking pre, and he didn’t even wait, just pulled you down onto him in one smooth thrust.
“fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, head tipping back against the seat, eyes half lidded as he watched you take every fat inch. you gasped loudly, hands bracing on his chest, the stretch burning so good you couldn’t think.
he let you set the pace at first, palms on your ass guiding but not forcing, watching your face the whole time with that lazy smirk that didnt reach his eyes, they were darker now, jealous and hungry.
you rocked slowly then faster, thighs burning already from the angle and how deep his cock is, feeling him in your tummy every time he bottoms out inside of your fluttering cunt. little whimpers spills out of you every time he hit that spot deep inside, making your eyes roll back. “kei… haahh… feels s’good…” your voice came out all breathy and broken, hips stuttering when he bucked up sudden.
“keep going,” he murmured, voice low and rough, one hand slipping up to wrap around your throat just enough to make your head spin. not squeezing hard yet, just holding, thumb stroking your pulse. “ride me like u mean it, baby.” the words were filthy in that soft tone he only ever used with you, and it made your cunt clench around him so tight he groaned, hips snapping up sharper.
your legs started aching after a few minutes, thighs trembling from the constant bounce, sweat already beading on your skin. “kei… m’legs… ahh… can’t… too much…” you whined, voice cracking into a soft sob, forehead dropping to his shoulder as you tried to keep moving anyway. he clicked his tongue, but his hands were gentle when he lifted you off him, cock sliding out of your creamy pussy all shiny and wet.
“get in the back.” he didn’t have to ask twice. you scrambled over the console on shaky knees, landing on the leather with a soft huff. he followed right after, long body crowding you down onto your back, knees pushing your thighs wide and up till they pressed against your chest in a mating press, folding you in half so easy with his height and strong hands. he slid back in with one brutal thrust, burying his cock to the hilt and grinding deep and pounding you right from the start, the wet slap of skin echoing in the car.
“ah—kei!” you cried out, back arching off the seat, hands flying up to clutch at his biceps against his shirt. he didn’t stop, hips snapping hard and fast, pounding you into the leather like he was trying to erase every second that guy had spent talking to you. the car rocked gently with every thrust, windows fogging up quick. his hand came back to you throat, fingers wrapping perfect around it this time, squeezing just right so you vision sparkled and every breath came out as a tiny choked moan.
“you’re my girl, yeah? you hear me? all mine.” he panted against your ear, voice all gravelly and low, moving to suck on your jaw and moving his lips to your slack mouth to kiss your sloppy and hungry, never once stopping the ruthless rhythm of his hips rutting into you. “taking me so fucking deep… look at you, all pretty and dripping just for me.” he angled his hips meaner, cockhead hitting your battered cervix over and over till you were seeing stars, legs shaking in the air. the leather creaked under you, squealchy sounds of your pussy filling the car as he fucked you harder, sweat dripping from his hair onto your face.
you could barely form words anymore, everything spilling out in broken little sounds. “hnn… ahh—kei… s’deep… too much… ahhn… please…” your nails dug into his arms, body jolting with every snap of his hips, pussy clenching around his dick so tight it made his rhythm stutter for a second. he groaned low, free hand sliding down to rub messy circles over your swollen clit, thumb pressing hard.
“that’s it… make those pretty noises for me,” he murmured, eyes locked on your pretty fucked-out face, eyes rolled back, drool escaping from your open mouth. he watched every twitch and tear that slipped down your flushed cheeks.
he choked you a little tighter, just enough to make you gush around him, walls fluttering wild. “fuck… so wet… gonna cum all over my cock like a good girl? hm, baby?” his hips never slowed and kept pounding you senseless, the slap slap slap so loud you were sure anyone walking by could hear but you couldn’t care, not when he was fucking you this good.
you legs kicked weakly in the air, overstimulation making everything fuzzy and hot. “kei… m’gonna—ahhhn!” you sobbed, body locking up as u came hard, your vision whiting out, thighs trembling against his chest. he fucked you right through it, chasing his own high, thrusts turning sloppy and deep till he buried himself to the brim and spilled inside you with a shaky groan, hips grinding slow to push every drop of his hot cum deeper. he came so much it started leaking out from his still balls-deep cock, dripping onto your ass and to the seat.
he stayed there for a long minute, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling hot and heavy. his hand loosened around your throat, turning into soft strokes along your jaw instead, thumb brushing away the tears. “good girl,” he whispered, voice softer now, pressing one lazy kiss to ur temple before carefully pulling out of your creamy and ruined cunt. you whined at the loss, all floaty and boneless as he helped you sit up, fixing your skirt with surprisingly gentle fingers.
later that night, after he drove and home and walked you to your dorm like nothing happened, your phone buzzed with a notification of kei’s making a rare post on his instagram that he barely use. just one photo, taken earlier in the cafe when you weren’t looking - you smiling up at him, his hand resting on the back of your chair, thumb barely brushing your shoulder. no caption. just the picture n the little heart emoji he never used.
the comments flooded in fast (some are from the karasuno members saying he’s finally softened up) but he didn’t care of the comments nor the likes. what matters is that everyone knew now. you were his. his girlfriend. end of story. amd when you texted him a tiny “kei u hack or sumth?” he replied with this.
summary : y/n and chan are friends with benefits and through a prank she tries to learn his true intentions for her.
pairing : bang chan x reader (lee know as Y/N’s best friend)
genre : friends with benefits to lovers
word count : 4080
warnings : minor dni, 18+, smut, jealousy, possessiveness,explicit language, dirty talk, unprotected sex, angry sex, fingering, edging, begging, face fucking, doggy style, mention of spanking,mention of female receiving oral, breast play,hair pulling, biting/marking, creampie, empty threats (jokingly), angry and dom chan, menace lee know.
a/n : English isn’t my first language and I was a little tired when I wrote this, so please excuse any mistakes.
The relationship between Y/N and Chan was a masterclass in walking a tightrope. For nearly six months, they had perfected the "friends with benefits" dynamic. It was practical—she was a backup dancer, always in his orbit, and the company rules combined with their grueling schedules made a real relationship seem like an impossible dream.
He’d been the one to approach her, a kind smile softening his intense gaze, after a particularly grueling take. “You killed that” he’d said, his voice a warm rumble against the studio’s cool air. “Seriously, your timing is impeccable.” Y/N, flustered but pleased, had laughed. “Thanks. You guys are the ones doing the real heavy lifting.”
That initial spark had quickly ignited into a comfortable friendship, then, inevitably, something more. They were both workaholics, driven by their respective creative passions, and found solace in each other’s company. Chan was intense, thoughtful, and unbelievably kind, while Y/N was fiery, independent, and always up for an adventure. Their chemistry was undeniable, a silent hum that vibrated between them whenever they were in the same room.
Then came the "friends with benefits" conversation, initiated by Chan himself. It made sense on paper: two busy adults, both craving intimacy without the messy complications of a full-blown relationship that neither had the time or mental capacity for. It was convenient, passionate and for a time, perfectly suited their needs.
Except, Y/N knew it was growing beyond that for her. She saw the way his jaw would subtly tighten when another male dancer complimented her, or the almost imperceptible pause before he’d agree to her going out with other friends. And then there was Minho.
Minho was her rock, her confidante, her absolute best friend in the entire Stray Kids entourage. They’d clicked instantly, their shared love for sarcasm, dance, and all things chaotic forming an unbreakable bond. Minho, with his sharp wit and even sharper observations, saw everything. He saw the way Chan looked at Y/N when he thought no one was watching, and he saw the suppressed longing in Chan’s eyes. He also saw Y/N’s burgeoning feelings and Chan’s stubborn refusal to address them.
Chan, despite being the one who proposed the friends with benefits arrangement, found himself battling a growing, unwelcome feeling of possessiveness. He’d tried to rationalize it – a natural reaction to someone he was physically intimate with – but the truth gnawed at him. Especially when Minho was involved. Minho, the menace, who loved to tease him, who knew exactly how to push Chan’s buttons. Minho, who was always draped over Y/N, or whispering jokes in her ear, making her laugh that bright, uninhibited laugh that Chan secretly cherished. He wouldn’t admit the jealousy, not even to himself, because it would unravel the careful, detached facade he’d constructed around their arrangement.
Y/N, however, was tired of the game. She wanted more. She wanted a confession, an admission from Chan that he felt the same way she did, that their casual arrangement was anything but. And she knew just the person to help her smoke him out.
On a Wednesday afternoon, Y/N received a message from a criminally bored Minho. Apparently, he had discovered a brand-new anime and had decided — with zero hesitation — that they had to watch it together.
Since Chan was going to be stuck at the studio until late that night, Y/N figured this was the universe handing her a free pass to hang out with her favorite human menace.
“I’m bringing the snacks,” she replied.
Thirty minutes later, she was already at his door.
They were sprawled on his and Jisung’s dorm room floor, surrounded by empty takeaway containers and a half-watched anime series flickering on the large TV screen.Minho noticed something was off. Y/N wasn’t screaming at the screen or judging the characters’ life choices — which was suspicious.
“What’s going on in that chaotic head of yours?” he asked, pausing the anime dramatically.
“Min…What if he sees me just as a fuck buddy?” she blurted out. “What if he doesn’t care at all?”
Minho stared at her.
“Ugh.Are you stupid or something?”
“I’m serious, Minho! It was his idea.This whole… thing.”
“And you agreed” he shot back. “Then his little dick made you fall in love with him, and now you want more. And you’re seriously dumb enough to think his clingy ass doesn’t feel the same?”
At this point, he was basically reciting her own emotional breakdowns from memory.She sighed.
“There’s only one way to find out” she said,eyes lighting up. “And my little grumpy cat is going to help me.”
“No.”
“You’ll be the protagonist.”
“No.”
“You’ll make him suffer.”
Minho paused.
She could see the exact moment the idea clicked.
“Now we’re talking.”
Without wasting another second, Y/N explained her brilliant — and slightly risky — plan. Technically, Minho would be doing all the work. She just wanted one thing: Chan’s reaction.
If he lost control?
Well.
That would be all the answer she needed.
“He’s going to kill me” Minho said, a wide, predatory grin spreading across his face as he took another bite of his pizza.
“He’s going to kill us” Y/N corrected, giggling. “But it’s for a good cause. He needs a push, Minho. He thinks he’s so slick, hiding behind ‘casual.’ I need him to break.”
Minho hummed, considering. “So, the plan is: I get him to think I’m… deeply involved with you. Sexually. In this very room.”
“Precisely,” Y/N said, adjusting the oversized hoodie she’d borrowed from Minho.
She was comfortable, safe, and utterly thrilled at the prospect of the chaos they were about to unleash.
“He’ll be at the studio with Jisung and Changbin. Perfect, because Jisung will be too engrossed in music and Changbin will be too busy being Changbin to notice Chan’s meltdown immediately.”
“Excellent psychology,Y/N.You know our leader well.” Minho’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Alright. Consider it done. But you owe me big time for this.”
“Consider your revenge on Chan for that time he stole your last pineapple juice already enacted,” Y/N countered with a smirk.
It was nearing midnight, and the studio was buzzing with the low hum of machinery and the focused energy of creation. Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were in their individual zones, fine-tuning beats, lyrics, and melodies. Chan was particularly engrossed in a new track, his headphones clamped over his ears, fingers dancing across the mixing board.
His phone buzzed on the desk beside him. He glanced at it, a faint smile touching his lips when he saw Y/N’s name. He’d texted her earlier, just a casual check-in, and was expecting a quick reply. He tapped open the message… and saw no new reply from her. Weird. She was usually quick.
He sent another text. “Hey, still at Minho’s? Anime marathon still going strong?”
Minutes ticked by. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Still nothing. His smile faltered. He knew she was at Minho’s; they’d talked about it on her way to his dorm.But Minho was also Minho. And Minho had a habit of being… handsy. Not with Y/N, not in a romantic way, but physically close. He’d drape an arm around her, playfully push her head, steal her snacks. Nothing overtly flirtatious, but enough to trigger a tiny, irrational spike of annoyance in Chan.
He typed another message, a little less casual this time. “Everything okay? Haven’t heard from you.”
Another fifteen minutes passed. The studio was quiet now, Jisung having stepped out for a coffee run and Changbin deep in thought on a couch, headphones on. The lack of a reply from Y/N began to prickle at Chan. It wasn't like her to just vanish.
A slow, unsettling feeling began to creep into his gut. What were they doing? Just watching anime? Or was Minho being particularly… Minho tonight? He tried to shake off the irrational thought, but it clung to him like a damp blanket. He was the one who set the terms. Friends with benefits. No strings. So why did his stomach twist into a knot?
He scrolled through his contacts and found her name again. He hesitated for a moment, then dialed. It rang once, twice… then connected. But it wasn't Y/N’s voice he heard.
“Hello?” A muffled voice, slightly breathless, answered. It was Minho.Chan’s jaw tightened.
“Minho? Where’s Y/N? Why isn’t she answering my texts? Why do you have her phone?” His tone was sharper than he intended.
There was a slight pause on the other end, a rustling sound, like someone shifting their weight. “Oh, Chan-ah. Yeah, she’s… a little busy right now. She can’t really get to the phone.” Minho’s voice was low, laced with a casualness that grated on Chan’s nerves.
“Busy with what?” Chan asked, his voice now flat, devoid of its usual warmth. He gripped his phone tighter.
“You know,” Minho said, and Chan could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “Important things. Like… catching up on some quality time.”
Chan’s mind raced, filling in the blanks with the worst possible scenarios.
“What are you talking about, Minho?” he demanded, his irritation mounting. He knew what Minho was implying. He knew what Minho was capable of implying.
“She’s right here. On her knees, actually. To be honest, she’s doing such a good job I don’t think I want her to stop.” Minho purred, and then a noise that sent an icy jolt down Chan’s spine. It was a soft, drawn-out moan. Not a loud, exaggerated one, but a sensual, intimate sound that implied deep pleasure. “Y/N, baby, don’t stop—Chan’s on the phone, say hi.” Chan felt a sudden surge of heat, quickly followed by a cold wave of rage.
“Minho, if you’re fucking lying to me—” Chan started, his voice cracking with a mix of rage and disbelief. His knuckles whitened around his phone.
“I wouldn’t lie about something this good,” Minho interrupted, his voice dripping with mock satisfaction. “She’s so good at this, Chan, running her tongue… mmph… just there…”
A strangled sound escaped Chan’s throat. He could feel his face flushing, a primal heat coursing through his veins. He imagined Y/N, with her soft lips and nimble fingers, doing… that… to Minho. The thought was like a physical blow. His best friend. The woman he was intimately involved with.
“I’ll have her call you when we’re finished. Might be a while, though. She’s real thirsty today.” Minho practically whispered, making another soft, guttural moan, a little louder this time, perfectly timed, perfectly agonizing.
Chan slammed his hand on the desk, the loud thud echoing in the otherwise silent studio. Changbin, startled, looked up, pulling off his headphones. Chan ignored him, his eyes wide with fury and a sudden, sickening jealousy.
“Tell her to get on the phone NOW, Minho!” Chan roared, his voice cracking with rage. “I swear to god, if you don’t put her on the phone, I’m coming over there right now and I’m going to break both your legs!”
Minho’s next sound was not a moan, but a burst of unadulterated laughter. A loud, ringing peal of mirth that was quickly joined by another, equally joyous laugh. Y/N’s laugh.Chan froze. The anger, the jealousy, the stomach-lurching fear… all of it evaporated like mist in the sun, replaced by a profound, burning humiliation.
“You absolute idiots!” he bellowed into the phone, his face burning hot. His fury had not dissipated, but shifted, now directed at their sheer audacity.
Y/N’s voice, bubbly and breathless, finally broke through.
“Good job Min..We got him”
Chan was fuming, but beneath the anger, a flicker of something else began to stir. Relief. And a possessive warmth. She hadn’t been with Minho. She’d been playing him. And he’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.
“I’m going to kill both of you,” Chan said, but the threat lacked its earlier venom. He hung up the phone with a decisive click, his mind already racing.
Changbin, who had been watching the entire exchange with wide-eyed amusement, finally spoke up.
“Everything alright there, hyung? Sounded like… an intense call.” Chan merely grunted, running a hand through his hair.
“Everything is just fine, Changbin. I just need to… go take care of something.” He grabbed his jacket, his keys, and stalked out of the studio, ignoring Changbin’s confused expression.
His car ride to Y/N’s apartment was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Humiliation, yes, but also a growing resolve. She wanted to test him? Fine. He’d passed. He’d reacted exactly as she’d hoped, proving his feelings, even if he hadn’t admitted them aloud. But now, she was going to pay. He was going to make it abundantly clear that this ‘casual’ arrangement was anything but, and that she, Y/N, was his.
Y/N had barely been in her apartment for twenty minutes when the sound of her keypad being punched in echoed through the hallway.She was sitting on her sofa, a mischievous grin still playing on her lips, but a hint of nervousness flickered in her eyes as Chan stormed in, slamming the door shut behind him.
His eyes, dark with a mix of anger and something far more primal, locked onto hers. He didn’t say a word, just stared, demanding an answer.
“So,” she began, her voice a little shaky, “you’re not actually going to break Minho’s legs, are you?”
Chan stalked towards her, his movements slow, deliberate, like a predator circling its prey.
“Minho is going to get his. But right now, you’re the one who needs to be taught a lesson, baby.”
His voice was low, rough, sending shivers down her spine.Y/N swallowed, suddenly aware of the potent shift in the atmosphere.
The playfulness was gone, replaced by an intense, almost terrifying edge. Part of her was scared, but a deeper, more primal part of her thrilled at the raw possessiveness emanating from him. This was exactly what she wanted, wasn't it? The breaking of his composure, the shedding of the fwb facade.
He loomed over her, hands braced on either side of her on the sofa, trapping her. His scent, a mix of studio sweat, his familiar cologne, and something distinctly masculine, filled her senses. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his muscles.
“You played a dangerous game tonight, baby girl” he murmured, his eyes burning into hers. “Making me think… that he was touching you.” His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, a possessive gesture that made her gasp.
“Making me think… that someone else was taking what’s mine.”
Her breath hitched. Mine. He’d said it. The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken weight, with a possessiveness she’d craved.
“I… I just wanted to know,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to his lips.
“Know what?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.
“If you cared,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “If I meant more than just… convenience.”
A flicker of something akin to hurt crossed his face, quickly replaced by a fierce intensity.
“Convenience?” he scoffed, leaning in closer, his lips brushing hers. “Did that sound like convenience to you when I was ready to drive across the city and rip Minho’s throat out for daring to lay a finger on you?”
He kissed her then, a hard, demanding kiss that left no room for doubt. It was rough, punishing, and utterly thrilling. He bit her lip, then plunged his tongue into her mouth, a claiming gesture that stole her breath. Y/N met his intensity with her own, her hands rising to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into her heavy-lidded eyes.
“You’re mine, Y/N,” he reiterated, his voice a raw whisper against her lips. “Casual or not you’re mine.You don’t belong on your knees for anyone but me.Do you understand?”
“Prove it” She dared him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, a mix of relief and overwhelming desire.
He lifted her from the sofa effortlessly, carrying her into the bedroom. He set her down gently on the bed, but the gentleness ended there. He stripped off his jacket, then his t-shirt, his lean, muscled body a testament to his dedication. His eyes never left hers, communicating a silent promise of what was to come.
He knelt on the bed above her, his hands going to the hem of her borrowed hoodie. With a decisive tug, he pulled it over her head, then discarded it, revealing the delicate lace of her bralette.He pulled down the straps freeing her breasts.His mouth latching onto her neck with sucking bites that would leave marks—his marks.His hand palming her breast roughly, thumb flicking her nipple until it peaked.She squirmed beneath him, heat pooling between her legs as his free hand popped the button of her jeans.
She helped him, her fingers clumsy with anticipation.He shoved them down along with her panties in one swift motion.
The air in the room was thick with unspoken words, with raw, unbridled desire.
She was finally naked beneath him and his eyes tracing every curve of her body, a slow, possessive gaze that made her shiver.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice husky. “To see me lose control?”
“Yes,” she breathed, arching into his touch as his fingers traced a path from her hip to her inner thigh.
“Good.” he growled, pushing her legs apart.
Cool air hit her bare skin, but his palm was there immediately, cupping her pussy possessively, fingers sliding through her growing wetness.
"Already soaked? Thinking about Minho’s filthy words get you this wet, or is it knowing I'm gonna fuck you senseless?" He plunged two fingers inside her without warning, curling them deep, pumping hard and fast. She cried out, hips bucking up to meet his hand, walls clenching around the intrusion. His thumb circled her clit, rough circles that made her vision blur.
“Answer me Y/N.”
“You Chan.Only you can make me this wet.”
The words spilled out on a moan as he added a third finger, stretching her, his mouth trailing down to suck a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive bud. He worked her relentlessly, fingers scissoring inside, tongue lashing her breast until she was writhing, chasing the edge.
But he stopped abruptly, pulling his hand free, leaving her empty and aching. She whimpered in protest, but he was already standing next to the bed, jeans kicked away to free his cock, thick and veined, standing rigid against his abs. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and he stroked himself once, eyes locked on hers, his expression raw and possessive.
“Minho said you were on your knees for him. Let’s make that a reality for me, shall we?”
He ordered her to kneel before him with her tongue out and she obeyed him without hesitation.He groaned at the sight, one hand fisting her hair, the other guiding his cock to her mouth. He teased the head along your tongue, coating himself in her saliva.She worked her tongue along the length of his cock and massaged his balls with one hand.
“Open wider” He groaned and she followed his instruction,opening wider her mouth for him to put his cock in.
He started thrusting in her mouth, so deep that he was hitting the back of her throat and she gagged. Tears started to form in her eyes as he fucked her face. His head was thrown back, his lips were parted and his moans filled the room.
“You think it was funny to have him tell me what you were doing to him? Do you want me to take a video and send him to see what this beautiful mouth is capable of?” He said through gritted teeth as he pulled her head back by the hair abruptly leaving her out of breath in front of him.
“Chan please..”
“On your knees. Ass up. Show me how much you want this dick, how much you want me."
She did as he told her, heart racing, as she climbed onto the bed on all fours, arching her back.He grabbed the cheeks of her butt, opened them and leaned between them, his tongue licking the inside of her folds.
“Fuck, Channie please..I need you” she pleaded.
The vulnerability of the position made Y/N shiver, but the way Chan’s hands gripped her hips, anchoring her to him, made her ache.
He didn't use a condom—this was beyond their usual careful routine.He fisted her hair to pull her head back slightly, the other guiding his cock to her entrance. He entered her in one swift, heavy thrust, a low growl escaping his throat as he filled her. Y/N cried out, her fingers digging into the sheets as the friction sparked through her.
“Is this what he said you were doing?” Chan hissed, his pace turning relentless. He wasn't being gentle. Each snap of his hips against hers was a punishment and a prayer.
"Minho’s got nothing on this. He can't fuck you like I do, can't make this pussy cream all over his cock."
She moaned his name, the dirty words fueling the fire, her body surrendering completely. He released her hair to slap her ass, repeatedly, the sting blooming into heat that made her push back harder, fucking herself on him.
He reached around, fingers finding her clit again, rubbing in time with his thrusts, each one deeper, harder, claiming every inch. Sweat dripped down his chest, muscles flexing as he pounded into her, possessive grunts filling the room.
"Cum for me. Show me you know who you belong to—gonna fill you up, mark you inside so you think of me every time you see him."
The pressure built unbearably, his cock dragging against her walls, hitting that spot that made her legs shake. She shattered around him, pussy spasming, gushing wetness down his length as waves of pleasure ripped through her. He didn't stop, fucking her through it, prolonging the bliss until tears pricked her eyes.
She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel the way he was marking her, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he neared his limit.
“Tell me,” Chan demanded, “Whose are you?”
“Yours,” Y/N sobbed, her head hanging low, her hair shielding her face. “Chan, please... I’m yours.”
“Louder.”
“I’m yours! Only yours!”
That was all it took. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself and came, hot spurts flooding her core, his groan raw and animalistic. He collapsed over her, still inside, lips pressing to her shoulder.
"Mine," he whispered, softer now, hand stroking her side. "Don't forget it."
The prank had unleashed something raw and untamed in him, a protective fury that had been simmering beneath the surface of their casual arrangement. He wanted her to feel it all, to understand the depth of his feelings, to never doubt again where she stood with him.
The silence that followed was heavy, filled only with the sound of their labored breathing. After a long moment, Chan shifted, rolling them over so she was tucked into his side. He kissed the top of her head, his grip still firm, as if afraid she might vanish.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he whispered, his voice returning to the gentle tone she knew, though the edge of possessiveness remained.
“I think I got the message, Channie.” Y/N leaned into him, her body sore but her heart strangely full.
“Good,” he murmured, pulling the covers over them. “Now call Minho and tell him if he ever touches your phone again, I’m kicking him out of the group.” Y/N laughed softly.
“He’s really lucky he is my friend,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse, “Because I almost drove over there.” He propped himself up on an elbow to look at her.
She chuckled, a contented sound. “I know,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I wanted you to.”
He sighed, running a hand through her still-damp hair, his arm tightening around her waist.
“And just to be clear,” he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below her ear, “we’re not just friends with benefits anymore, Y/N.”
She smiled, a wide, triumphant smile as she nestled deeper into his embrace catching his lips in a soft kiss.
The prank had worked. And the lesson had been taught, in the most primal, unforgettable way possible. She was his, and he was hers, and no convenient arrangement could ever hide the undeniable truth of their hearts.
cw: somnophilia, lots of begging and teasing, handjob, blowjob, channie has sensitive balls, cute fluff in the end per usual. lmk if i missed anything!!
chan was out celebrating out jeongin's birthday with the rest of their friends last night. he'd reassured you that he'd come at a reasonable hour and that he would try to be sober. but when he'd stumbled into your shared apartment with his face flushed and his words barely making sense, you surmised that he drank more than he was planning.
you had woken up early the next day. brushing you teeth and padding barefoot to the kitchen to make breakfast. filling up a cup of water and some painkillers for chan to find on the bedside table when he woke up. when you walked into your shared room, though, you had an idea pop up in your head.
your eyes immediately got pulled to his body lying there as you entered your room. only in his boxers, his bare chest heaving up and down with steady breaths. one arm by his side, the other tucked behind his head, his legs sprawled up in the sheets.
you set the water and medicine on the bedside table. eyeing him while your stomach twisted at the ideas you were getting. you'd be lying if you weren't nervous. you knew chan was okay with that kind of thing. his words being "you can do whatever you want with me, baby. im okay with anything as long is its you"
you tiptoed your way around the bed, kneeling next to where his legs rested. chan was a deep sleeper, especially that he'd partied his brains out yesterday, he could sleep through an earthquake. 'perfect' you thought.
he looked so peaceful. blond curles peaking through. face glowing from the sun peaking from the windows. his mouth parted in steady breathes. plump lips tempting you to leave a wet kiss on them.
you knelt down on your knees, trailing your fingertips around his nipples, then trailing down to his abs. his cock jumping in his boxers when you trailed further down. chan had the sexiest happy trail ever. you passed your fingertips through the trail of hair as you heard his mouth part in a sigh, still asleep.
You swallowed hard, you were starting to see the appeal in this. He was completely at your mercy, and he liked it. you tugged at his boxers just enough to let his cock and balls out as you kept a watchful gaze on his face. eyebrows twitching slightly when you reached out to tug at his cock.
chan's abs tightened every time you stroked his cock. stoping at the top before reaching your thumb out to rub small circles at his tip, his cock fully hardened now with pre seeping through his tip down your palm.
"theeeree you go" you whispered. focusing your attention on the top half of his cock. jerking off his sensitive tip. his lips parting fully now in a soft grunt. your legs instinctively tightening, desperate to relieve the aching heat in your cunt.
chan was stirring more now, he wont be asleep for much longer. his breaths uneven and his face contorted compared to his peaceful state prior. legs and abs flexing more, cock fully standing up before you, thick cock straining against your hand as you focus your ministrations on his tip, making more pre-cum spill out, lubricating your strokes and making a filthy squelching sound with every move.
Sliding your hand down to the base of his cock, you grabbed his hip with your free hand and angled his cock slightly down to your mouth. You stuck out your tongue and let your hot breath tease his cock, making it twitch harshly before you gave it a few soft taps against your tongue, the small taste of it alone making your tastebuds erupt with the salty-sweet flavor of his cum.
Wasting no more time, you took him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around his cock. taking as much of him as you could, fighting back a cough when his length stretched your throat. eyes watering and drool seeping from the corners of your mouth as he let out a loud groan, hips involuntarily thrusting into your mouth.
you pull his cock out of your mouth as you start fully stroking from shaft to tip, your spit and his pre making your movement quick and smooth and loud. leaning down to take his balls into your mouth. and that was when he woke up with a grunt.
one hand reaching to rub the sleep off his eyes as his other arm going from the back of his head reaching down to his cock, or atleast trying to. but he was met with your hair, his hand resting on your head as you suckled on his balls and stroked his cock tightly.
"oh—fuckkk baby?" he let out a loud groan, his hips thrusting up into your palm as he looked down to watch the scene unfolding beneath him, you looking up at him with teary eyes, hands speeding up on his cock.
There was still sleep flooding his eyes, making his vision slightly blurred but he couldn't mistake the sight of your gorgeous face, sucking on his balls while you jerked him off. "oh baby—ohhh fuck" chan groaned. jaw falling slack at the sight below him
you unlatched your mouth from his balls as he hissed at the loss of your warm mouth, his balls now exposed to the cool air. "mornin' channie. how'd you sleep?" replacing your hand on his cock with your mouth before giving him a chance to answer, taking him deeply down your throat. taking him with renewed ease as you set one of your hands on his thigh and the other around his hipbone. hollowing your cheeks around his cock as much as you can, eyes tearing up.
I-holy shittt baby so tight, oh fuck" he groaned. trying to answer your question but getting lost in the pleasure. his fingers pulling at your hair as you bobbed your head up and down, a moan of pained pleasure leaving your mouth, sending vibrations that sent pleasure shooting up his spine. throwing his head back against the pillows with a loud moan. "s'good—ohmygod you feel so good baby".
"I fucking love you so much, holy shit." chan groaned in his deep, sleepy voice. You had to fight back a smile, not wanting him to feel any teeth as you sucked him off. "keep going—im so close"
you released his cock with a loud 'pop!' as you stuck your tongue out. sucking the tip a few times before slapping it against your tongue causing him to roll his eyes to the back of his head at the lewd sight. groaning as his hips stuttered in your hold.
"Keep going, s-suck my balls again baby, please." He begged. His voice was so much deeper than usual, it was so raspy and needy, it made you grind down into the bed, rubbing your clit against the inside of your thighs pressed so tightly together. you brought both hands up, wrapping both of them around his cock as you reached down to suck his balls. eyes on him watching him unravel. his head thrashing against the pillow with his brows knit together and his mouth parted in loud moans of your name.
"yesyesyesyesyes suck them harder baby-" chan was a mess under you. his hands gripping the sheets as his back arched off the bed. "dont stop—oh fuck im gunna cum—m'cumming!" chan whimpered out, his voice moaning your name as you let go of his balls and sticking your tongue out infront of his tip. white, long spurts of cum coating you face and hands, making a mess as you slowly jerked him down from his high. is moans turning in to soft sighs as he tried to catch his breath
"keep doing that everyday and i might just have to put a ring on your finger" chan muttered voice thick with pleasure and sleepiness and love. "oh shut up you doofus, breakfast is ready in the kitchen" you smile through your words, grabing a towel to clean him up.
a/n: blond chan is actually making me so feral its concerning. hope you enjoyed if u made it to the end you freaks :) likes and reblogs are soo appreciated!!
( 애인 ) 𝒾n which ︵ you're the girl with ribbons in her hair and a love for chan that runs deeper than anyone realizes. while he tries to protect your soft, gentle heart from the world, he has no idea that you’re quietly removing anyone who dares to stand in his way.
mdni 77O5 age gap ( 7 years / reader is 21 & chan is 28 ) yandere themes graphic violence toxic dynamics murder & homocide manipulation threats of self-harm gaslighting & deception sasaeng behavior blood & gore emotional trauma reader is a deeply flawed character coquette & soft!rea
deadass sat down and wrote it all in one go. brainworms go crazy
⌨️ like&&reblog for a kiss. ── #click4masterlist to see more.
THE FIRST TIME it happens, it’s so impulsive that you want to consider it an accident. it’s not, though. not really.
your entire life, you’ve loved loudly. you’ve loved big. for someone as quiet as you, it’s a bit of a contradiction. you’re the girl who speaks in a near-whisper, who wears lace socks and silk ribbons that flutter when you walk, and who ducks her head the second a stranger makes eye contact. you look like something fragile—something that needs to be kept in a glass case.
but inside, your heart is heavy and demanding. when you fell for chan, you didn't just fall; you submerged.
it started at that fan-meet, back when you were twenty and still vibrating with the nervous energy of a fan. you’d spent weeks working up the courage to wear that specific outfit—a soft cream cardigan and a skirt with tiny embroidered cherries—hoping that if he ever saw you, he’d see someone worth protecting.
now, a year later, he’s your person.
he’s the one who shields you from the crush of a subway crowd by tucking you under his chin, his broad chest acting as a literal wall between you and the world. he’s the one who orders your tea because he knows the wobble in your voice better than you do.
to everyone else, you’re just chan’s sweet, dainty girlfriend. the quiet one. the one who blushes when the other members tease her.
they don't see the way your mind works. they don't see the other side of your soft nature—the part of you that wants to sew your name into the lining of every single one of his hoodies so he can never truly take you off.
it’s a soft sort of obsession. it’s not sharp or loud; it’s hidden in the way you organize his vitamin drawer by color, or the way you’ve memorized the exact scent of his detergent so you can recognize it on him from across the room.
you don't just want to be loved by him; you want to be the only thing he breathes.
sometimes, when he’s asleep in the studio and you’re bringing him a home-cooked meal, you just sit there and watch the rise and fall of his chest. you think about how easy it would be to just stay here forever, to lock the door and keep the rest of the busy, loud world away from your channie.
he thinks you’re his angel. he thinks your shyness is a sign of your purity. and you are—you’re his, entirely. but you’re also the girl who once spent three hours scrolling through his old tagged photos just to make sure you knew every person who had ever dared to touch his arm.
you love him so much it hurts your teeth. you love him with a gentleness that masks a terrifying depth.
tonight, the apartment is quiet. the dim light of the hallway hits the lace on your sleeves as you stand by the bed, watching him sleep. he looks so tired, his curls messy against the pillow. he looks like he belongs to the world when he’s awake, leading his team and carrying the weight of a thousand expectations.
but here, in the dark, he only belongs to you.
you reach out, your fingers trembling slightly as you trace the line of his jaw. you’re careful not to wake him. you just want to make sure he’s still there. you want to make sure no one else has tried to take a piece of him today.
"my channie," you whisper, the sound so soft it doesn't even disturb the air.
it wasn't an accident. the way you’ve slowly, quietly wound yourself into every fiber of his life was the most intentional thing you’ve ever done.
killing her wasn't an accident, either.
the humanities project was supposed to be a simple grade, but jiyoon made it feel like an endurance test.
you sat on the edge of the stiff dorm chair, your hands folded neatly in your lap, looking every bit the doll chan always called you. your lace-trimmed sleeves brushed against the cold desk as you waited for jiyoon to stop scrolling through her phone.
she’d been making you do the bulk of the research for three hours now, occasionally tossing a condescending comment your way.
"you're so quiet, it's actually kind of creepy," jiyoon muttered, not even looking up. "do you ever actually have an opinion, or do you just nod at everything i say?"
you gave her a small, shy smile—the one that usually made people leave you alone. "i just want to make sure we get the work done right," you say.
jiyoon rolled her eyes, sighing loudly. she’d been taking advantage of your soft nature since the first day of the semester, treating you more like a personal assistant than a partner.
you didn't mind the extra work, and you didn't mind her sharp tongue when it was aimed at you. you were used to being perceived as weak, and if being the quiet, helpful girl made the day go faster, you’d play the part perfectly.
but then, the air in the room shifted.
your phone vibrated on the desk, the screen lighting up to show the time. the wallpaper was a blurry, candid photo of chan’s hand—just his hand, veins prominent as he worked at his midi controller—but the music player widget was what caught jiyoon’s eye. one of chan’s solo tracks was playing through your earbuds.
jiyoon leaned over, squinting at the screen, and made a face like she’d just smelled something rotting. "ugh, you actually listen to him? i thought you had better taste."
you felt a tiny, sharp prick in your chest. "he’s... he’s a very talented producer," you said, your voice barely audible.
"he's a joke," jiyoon scoffed, turning back to her own laptop. "stray kids is just noise. and that leader? please. he’s so dramatic, always acting like he’s the only one who works hard. he’s lazy, honestly. half the stuff he produces sounds like a toddler hitting a keyboard. i don't get why anyone wastes their time on a guy who clearly doesn't care about the music."
the room went very, very still.
to jiyoon, she was just venting about a celebrity she didn't like. she didn't know that the "lazy leader" was the man who tied your bows for you. she didn't know he was the one who held you until you fell asleep when your anxiety got too loud. she didn't know that every note he wrote was a piece of his soul that he gave to the world—and to you.
you didn't yell. you didn't cry. you didn't even look up from your notes.
the only sign of your heartbeat was the way your knuckles turned white as you gripped your pen. your mind, usually so soft and pink and filled with kindness, went cold. it was a strange, clinical sort of cold. in your head, you weren't looking at a classmate anymore; you were looking at a glitch in the world.
something that needed to be corrected.
if she could be this cruel about someone so perfect, someone who did nothing but give and give until he was exhausted, then she didn't deserve to breathe the same air he did.
"i'm going to go grab some more paper from my bag," you murmured, your voice as sweet and gentle as sugar.
jiyoon didn't even turn around. "whatever. hurry up."
the sound of the chair's wood splintering against jiyoon’s skull was much louder than you expected, a sharp crack that echoed off the sterile dorm walls.
for a second, the only other sound was the tiny, rhythmic tinny noise bleeding out of your earbuds—chan’s voice, filtered through layers of production, singing something sweet and low.
jiyoon didn't even have time to gasp. she just crumpled, sliding off her desk chair like a puppet with its strings cut. a stray highlighter rolled off the desk and clicked onto the floor, settling right next to her hand.
you stood there, chest barely heaving, still holding the broken leg of the chair. your knuckles were white, the delicate fabric of your sleeve slightly frayed from the force of the swing. you felt... light. airy. like the heavy, suffocating cloud of her words had finally been scrubbed clean from the room.
lazy leader.
horrible producer.
noise.
the words had felt like physical scratches on your skin. you could handle it when she called you "useless" or "spacey" earlier in the afternoon. you were used to being a doormat; you quite liked the quiet life of being overlooked.
but the second she’d pointed those jagged, ugly thoughts at him—at the man who stayed up until 4:00 am making sure every snare hit was perfect, the man who held you until your tremors stopped—something in your brain simply disconnected.
you set the broken piece of wood down on the desk, right next to the humanities textbook.
you didn't feel the horror the movies always talked about. there was no cold sweat or racing pulse. instead, you felt a deep, profound sense of justice. to you, the world was a garden, and jiyoon was a weed that had tried to choke the most beautiful thing in it. you were just gardening.
calmly, you pulled a stray ribbon from your pocket and re-tied the bow in your hair, catching your reflection in the darkened window. you looked the same. soft. adorable. twenty-one and harmless.
you spent the next twenty minutes working with a quiet, domestic efficiency. you moved jiyoon’s body toward the closet, your small frame straining only slightly. you wiped the blood from the floor with her own extra bedsheets, moving in methodical circles until the linoleum shined.
once the room looked acceptable, you sat back down at the desk. you opened the shared document for your project and finished the last three slides. your typing was steady, your spelling perfect. you even added a little decorative border to the final page because you liked things to look pretty.
before you left, you pulled out your phone. the screen brightened, showing a photo of chan holding a bouquet of lilies he’d bought you last yesterday. his dimples were deep, his eyes crinkling with that protective, soul-deep warmth.
you smiled back at the screen, your heart swelling until it felt like it might burst.
to: channie ♡
just finished my project! i’m headed home now. i hope you aren’t working too hard, baby. make sure to drink some water for me? i love you so, so much. sleep well. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
you hit send and watched the little 'delivered' icon appear. then, you tucked your phone into your quilted bag, smoothed down your skirt, and stepped out into the hallway.
the air outside the dorm was cool and crisp. you walked home with a skip in your step, humming the melody of his latest track, feeling lighter than you had in years. the world was a better place now. it was quieter. it was safer for him.
when you finally got into your own bed and curled up under your pink duvet, you fell into the deepest, most peaceful sleep of your life.
the second time was different. you made up your mind instantly, the second you saw her. it was easier this time—more efficient, quicker. the hesitation that usually lived in your bones was gone, replaced by a cold, humming clarity.
it was that sasaeng from a week ago. the one who had cornered him outside the gym at one in the morning when he was exhausted and alone. you remembered how chan looked when he finally came home that night—his shoulders slumped, his eyes weary and clouded with a mix of frustration and fear he tried so hard to hide from you.
he wasn't expecting to be jumped like that, and seeing the clips of her pulling at his clothes and shoving a camera in his face had made your blood turn to ice.
you had masked it well, of course. you had just held him closely, peppering soft kisses all over his face and whispering sweet things until his breathing evened out.
you didn't want to make him feel worse by showing your own rage. but every time you saw her face in those viral clips, your jaw clenched so hard it ached. you didn't know her name or her life, but you knew her sins.
luck was on your side today.
you were at the bookstore, reaching for a collection of poetry, when you saw her. the same beady eyes, the same hair, the same disgusting smile that didn't sit right on her face. you slid the book back onto the shelf, your touch feather-light, eyes never leaving her.
the sun was setting as she finally checked out, casting long, bruised shadows across the pavement. you followed her outside, your heart beating a steady, calm rhythm. you didn't really have a plan, but your feet moved with a strange, magnetic purpose.
your soft, lace-up boots made no sound on the concrete as you kept a distance, looking like nothing more than a girl headed home after a quiet afternoon.
she turned into a shortcut—a dark, narrow alleyway tucked between two towering brick buildings. the golden hour light didn't reach down here; it was damp and smelled of old rain.
your eyes scanned the ground, landing on a discarded metal pipe leaning against a rusted dumpster. it was heavy, cold, and solid. when you picked it up, it felt right. it felt like justice.
there was no internal debate. there was no shaking of your hands. you just thought of chan’s face when he’d been backed into that corner a week ago—how he’d looked so small and uncomfortable—and you knew what had to be done.
she didn't even hear you come up behind her. the first strike was for his peace of mind. the second was for the way she’d made him feel unsafe in his own city. the third was for your own satisfaction, and the fourth was because you liked the feeling.
standing over her in the deepening shadows, you felt a strange sense of serenity. the world was a messy place, but you were slowly cleaning it up for him, one person at a time. you didn't feel like a monster; you felt like his secret.
you dropped the pipe, smoothed down the front of your dress, and checked your reflection in a dark window. your hair was still perfectly curled. you looked exactly like the girl chan loved—the one who wouldn't even hurt a fly.
you turned and walked out of the alley, blending back into the evening crowd, your mind already drifting to what you should cook for him when he got home.
loving chan was the easiest thing you’d ever done.
maybe that’s why protecting him came so naturally to you. it wasn't that you had a taste for the violence itself; the act was just a means to an end. what you really loved was the feeling of safety you were building for him, brick by brick, in a world that seemed determined to tear him down.
okay, maybe you did have a taste for the violence.
he worked too hard every single day to be treated so poorly. you saw the dark circles under his eyes and the way he’d sigh into your hair when he finally collapsed onto the sofa. he gave everything to his music, to his members, and to the fans—even the ones who didn't deserve him. in your eyes, a threat wasn't a person; it was a toxin.
and you were just the filter, keeping the air around him clean.
the strange thing was, you didn't feel like you were changing. when you were with him, you were still the same soft-spoken girl who wore bows in her hair and blushed at his dimpled smile. you kept those parts of your life in separate boxes, locked away where the light of his goodness couldn't touch the shadows of your work.
you often wondered what he would say if he knew. he loved you with a depth that sometimes made you dizzy, but chan wasn't a violent man. he was a healer, a leader, a protector in the traditional sense.
he wouldn't understand the cold, clinical way you viewed eliminating the things that hurt him. he would be horrified, and that was the one thing you couldn't handle—seeing him look at you with anything other than those warm, melting heart-eyes.
but he did love you... so maybe he would get it. you trusted that he would, if the time ever came.
it felt like a fair trade-off. chan spoiled you with the fruits of his labor; he bought you the lace dresses you loved, the designer purses that looked so dainty on your shoulder, and the jewelry that sparkled against your skin.
he gave you his hard-earned money and his even more precious time. this—this quiet, dark vigil—was the very least you could do for him. it was your way of balancing the scales.
he never grew suspicious. why would he? you were his angel, his soft girl, who needed him to open jars and shield her from loud crowds. you covered your tracks with the same meticulous care you used when picking out an outfit.
sometimes you’d come back to the dorm later than usual, your breath a little short or your sweater slightly disheveled. sometimes you’d be more tired, curling into his side and falling asleep before the movie even started. he’d just kiss your forehead and tuck the blanket around you, murmuring about how hard you were working for your exams.
"you're doing so well, baby," he’d whisper, his voice full of pride. "just don't overwork yourself for uni, okay? i've got you."
you’d just hum and press your face into his neck, breathing in his scent. he had no idea that while he was protecting your future, you were busy protecting his present. and as long as you stayed his quiet, adorable girl, he never had to know.
sometimes, it was harder to keep composed.
like now, for instance. the air in the apartment felt heavy, though chan couldn’t quite put his finger on why. he was sitting on the sofa, a laptop balanced on his knees, but his eyes kept drifting to you.
you were sitting on the floor by the coffee table, a embroidery hoop in your hands, but you hadn’t pulled a single stitch in ten minutes. your shoulders were tight—a tiny, sharp tension that didn't fit your usual soft silhouette. usually, when you were together, you were like a cat, melting into his space, seeking out his warmth.
tonight, you were like a statue carved from ice.
chan set his laptop aside, the movement deliberate. "baby?"
you didn't jump, but the way your head turned toward him was slow, almost mechanical. your eyes looked wide, darker than usual in the dim lamplight. "yeah, channie?"
your voice was still that sweet, breathless whisper, but there was a jagged edge to it. earlier that evening, things hadn't gone as cleanly as they had normally. there had been a struggle—a slip on wet pavement, a muffled shout that nearly drew attention, the frantic feeling of losing control for just a second.
the issue hadn't been corrected as smoothly as you liked, and the lingering adrenaline was making your skin itch.
chan slid off the sofa to join you on the floor, his hand reaching out to cover yours. you flinched—just a fraction—before forcing yourself to relax under his touch.
"your hands are freezing," he murmured, his brow furrowing. he took your hand in both of his, rubbing your skin to warm it up. he noticed a small, dark smudge on your lace cuff—something you’d missed in your haste to get home. "did something happen at the library today? you seem... quiet. even for you."
"just tired," you lied, your heart hammering against your ribs. you hated lying to him, but you hated the thought of him seeing that itch under your skin even more. "i have an assignment that's just a lot of work. i think i stayed too late."
chan leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. he smelled like clean laundry and expensive coffee, a scent that usually grounded you instantly. tonight, it felt like a reminder of how much you had to lose.
"you're shaking, love," he whispered, his leader voice coming out—that deep, steady tone he used when he was worried about the members. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, shielding you like he always did. "you've been pushing yourself too hard. i don't like seeing you this stressed. if those people in your group are giving you a hard time again, you need to tell me."
you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes tight. his protectiveness was so beautiful, so pure. he wanted to protect you from mean classmates and heavy workloads, while you were out there staining your skirt to protect him from the world's rot.
"i'm okay now," you breathed, clutching the back of his hoodie. "i just need you to hold me."
"how'd that project go, by the way?"
"huh?" you asked, voice muffled.
he reminded you, gentle, "the humanities one?"
"oh. that. it was alright. my partner moved away, so i just finished it on my own." the lie was easy. smooth. you didn't think twice, not in the comfort of his arms, and he didn't question it.
chan squeezed you tighter, his hand stroking your hair, smoothing down your ribbons. "i've always got you. you know that, right? nothing is going to happen to you while i'm around."
you nodded against his skin, a small, content smile pulling at the corners of your mouth that he couldn't see. i know, channie, you thought. and i'll make sure nothing ever happens to you, either. no matter what i have to do.
the afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains of chan's living room, casting soft, warm honey streaks across the carpet. it was a rare day off, the kind where the world seemed to slow down just for the two of you.
chan was sprawled out on the sofa, his head resting comfortably in your lap. he looked smaller like this, away from the stage lights and the heavy responsibility of being a leader.
his eyes were closed, a small sigh escaping his lips every time your fingers carded through his soft, messy curls. you were careful with him, your touch as light as a whisper, the lace of your sleeves occasionally brushing against his forehead.
for a long time, the only sound was the distant hum of the city and the steady rhythm of his breathing. but then, his brow furrowed, a tiny crease appearing between his eyes that you desperately wanted to smooth away.
"i try so hard to see the best in everyone," he began, his voice low and unusually strained. "you know i do. but this new staff member... i don't know, love. i watched him during the trainee evaluation today. he was so unnecessarily harsh with the younger kids. just... belittling them. and when i tried to step in and pull him aside for a quiet word, he didn't even listen."
you stopped moving your fingers for a split second, your heart skipping a beat. "he didn't?" you prompted softly.
chan let out a dry, frustrated laugh, rubbing his face with his hands. "no. he told me to stay in my lane. told me i was just an idol and that i didn't know the first thing about 'real' discipline. he said some pretty nasty things about my leadership, too. called me soft. said i was the reason the kids were 'weak.'"
the air in the room didn't change, but inside, that stillness took over your chest. you looked down at him—at the man who spent his nights making sure everyone else was okay, the man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders—and felt a surge of protectiveness so strong it made your fingertips tingle.
it wasn't right. someone like that shouldn't be allowed to breathe the same air as chan, let alone speak to him with such disrespect. he worked too hard to be insulted by someone so insignificant.
"that's horrible, channie," you murmured, your voice as sweet and gentle as ever. you leaned down, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to his temple. "you're the best leader they could ever ask for. he's wrong for saying those things to you."
chan sighed, leaning his face into your palm, finally relaxing as the tension began to drain out of him. "thanks, baby. i shouldn't even be venting to you about work stuff on our day off. i just... it really got under my skin."
"it's okay. you can tell me anything," you said, your thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. you waited a beat, making sure your voice stayed perfectly level, perfectly innocent. "what was his name again? just so i know who to stay away from if i ever come by the building?"
chan didn't even open his eyes. he felt so safe here, in your lap, wrapped in your lace and your quiet love. "kim dae-ho. he’s one of the new coordinators for the basement studios. but don't worry about it, angel. i'll figure out a way to handle it professionally."
"kim dae-ho," you repeated under your breath, the name tasting like something that needed to be erased. you went back to stroking his hair, your movements rhythmic and soothing. "i'm sure it'll all work out, channie. don't think about him anymore. just rest."
as he drifted off to sleep under the comfort of your touch, you stared out the window, a small, serene smile playing on your lips.
and the moment chan’s breathing shifted into the deep, rhythmic pull of sleep, the softness in your gaze didn't disappear—it just sharpened. you continued to stroke his hair for several minutes, ensuring he was truly under, before you carefully slid out from beneath him.
you replaced your lap with a plush velvet pillow, moving with the practiced silence of someone who spent their life trying not to be noticed.
standing in the center of the sun-drenched living room, you looked every bit the girl he loved. your ribbons were straight, your lace was pristine, and your expression was calm. but as you reached for your phone, your mind was already miles away, navigating the layout of the company’s basement studios.
you didn't go to your closet for something dark or utilitarian. instead, you kept on your softest cardigan and your dainty boots. your best weapon was the fact that no one—not even a man as intuitive as chan—could ever look at you and see a threat. you were just a girl going for a late-afternoon walk.
you spent the next hour in the quiet of your own room, perched on the edge of your bed. you didn't need a complex plan; you just needed a window of time. you searched the public company directories and social media tags until you found him.
kim dae-ho. he was older, with a face that looked like it enjoyed the power he held over those younger than him.
you felt no heat, no trembling anger. it was just a quiet, heavy necessity. chan was the sun, and people like dae-ho were the clouds trying to choke out his light. it was only natural to clear the sky for him.
you tucked a small, heavy object into your knitted bag—nothing that would look out of place, just something substantial enough to get the job done. as you walked back through the living room, you paused by the sofa. chan was still asleep, looking so peaceful that a lump formed in your throat.
he was too good for this world. he was too kind to do what needed to be done to the people who spit on his hard work. you leaned over and tucked the blanket closer to his chin, pressing a ghost of a kiss to the air above his forehead.
"i'll be back soon, channie," you whispered to the quiet room. "i'm just going to make sure your tomorrow is a little bit brighter."
you stepped out into the hallway, the click of the door being the only evidence you were ever there. the sun was starting to dip lower, painting the city in shades of deep violet and bruised orange—the perfect colors for a girl who loved loudly in the dark.
a week later, on the walk back to your apartment was quiet, the night air cooling the skin on your face. you were exhausted, but it was a good kind of tired—the kind that followed a long day of lectures followed by a quick, clinical bit of business.
this one hadn't been about chan. it hadn't been about a project partner or a stalker, either. it was just a man you’d seen at the bus stop, someone who had been rude to an elderly woman, someone who just... didn't fit the world you wanted to live in. you didn't even know his name. you’d just felt that familiar, cold itch under your skin and decided to scratch it.
there was a small, sticky patch of red on the side of your cream-colored knit top, but it was dark enough outside that no one would notice. you just wanted to get inside, take a hot shower, and maybe text chan a heart emoji before passing out.
you unlocked your door and stepped inside, clicking the light on.
"surprise!"
you jumped, your heart leaping into your throat. chan was standing in your tiny living room, looking incredibly soft in a oversized black hoodie. he’d moved your coffee table and spread out a mountain of pillows and blankets on the floor. there were bags of your favorite chips, two bowls of popcorn, and your laptop was already pulled up to the movie you’d mentioned wanting to see weeks ago.
"channie," you breathed, the shock fading into a rush of relief. "what are you doing here?"
he grinned, those deep dimples popping as he walked over to you. "i had a few hours off and wanted to surprise my favorite girl. you looked so stressed this morning, i thought we could use a marathon."
he pulled you into his arms, squeezing you tight. you melted against him, hiding your face in his chest. the smell of him—his laundry detergent and that woody cologne—instantly smoothed over the jagged edges of your day. for a moment, you forgot about the man at the bus stop. you forgot about the smudge on your side.
you were just chan's girl again.
"you're the best," you murmured into his hoodie.
"i know, i know," he teased, kissing the top of your head.
you both settled onto the floor, tucked under the heavy blankets. the movie started, but chan was in a talkative mood, rambling softly about his week.
"it’s been weirdly quiet at the building lately," he said, reaching for a handful of popcorn. "remember that guy i told you about? kim dae-ho? he hasn't shown up for work in three days. no call, no nothing. management is losing their minds trying to find a replacement. it’s like he just vanished."
you felt a tiny, sharp tensed-up feeling in your shoulders. you kept your eyes on the screen, a small, sweet smile playing on your lips. "oh? maybe he just realized he wasn't cut out for the job."
chan hummed, but he didn't say anything else. he noticed the way you’d stiffened, just for a second, but he brushed it off. you were probably just tired. uni was a lot of work, after all.
halfway through the movie, you felt a bit cramped from sitting in one position. you let out a little sigh and stretched your arms high above your head, the knit of your top riding up just enough to reveal your waist.
chan’s eyes drifted toward you, but then they froze. his entire body went still.
"wait," he said, his voice dropping all the playfulness. he reached out, grabbing your arm gently but firmly. "wait, wait. what is that?"
you looked down, following his gaze. the light from the tv hit the dark, rust-colored stain on your side. it was smeared against your skin, a stark contrast to the pale cream of your clothes.
"oh my god, are you hurt?" chan’s voice was climbing an octave, his hands shaking as he tried to pull the hem of your shirt up to check the wound. "what happened? did someone jump you? are you okay? why didn't you say anything?"
you looked at the blood, then back at him. you felt a weirdly calm, almost confused sensation. "no, no. i’m fine, chan. it’s okay."
"it's not okay! you're covered in blood!" he was hovering over you now, his face pale with genuine terror.
"it's not mine," you said softly.
chan stopped. his hands stayed frozen on the fabric of your shirt. he blinked, the words slowly sinking into his brain. "oh," he breathed, his shoulders dropping an inch. "oh, okay. that’s..."
he trailed off. he stared at you for three long seconds. "...wait, what?"
the silence in the room became deafening. the sounds of the movie playing in the background felt like they were miles away. chan’s mind, usually so quick and sharp, was struggling to bridge the gap between the girl he knew—the girl who liked silk ribbons and teacups—and the words you’d just said.
he laughed, a short, nervous sound. "what do you mean 'it's not yours'? did someone get hurt near you? did you help them?"
you didn't answer. you just watched him, your expression blank and peaceful.
the pieces started clicking together in his head, one by one. jiyoon, who had vanished mid-semester. the sasaeng, who hadn't been seen since that night in the alley. and now, dae-ho. he tried to push the thoughts away. it was crazy. it was the plot of a bad thriller. you were barely twenty-one. you were so delicate. you were his angel.
but the blood was right there. and you weren't crying. you weren't shaking.
he looked at you, really looked at you, searching for the girl he thought he knew.
"is there..." chan started, his voice barely a whisper, thick with a fear he couldn't hide. "is there something you're not telling me, angel?"
the silence in your living room felt like it was vibrating. the tv was still playing some mindless rom-com, the bright colors and canned laughter clashing violently with the look on chan’s face.
he was still holding your arm, his thumb resting just inches away from the bloodstain on your shirt, but his grip had gone weak. he looked like he was seeing a ghost, or maybe like he was realizing the person in front of him was the ghost.
"it’s not yours?" he repeated, his voice cracking. he let go of you as if you’d suddenly turned into hot coal. "then whose is it? why is it on you, baby? did you see someone get hurt? did you… did you call the police?"
you looked down at the red smudge. it was starting to dry, turning a darker, brownish hue against the cream knit. you felt a strange, detached sort of calmness. you weren't scared of him knowing.
a part of you had been waiting for this, wanting to lay your head on his shoulder and tell him everything you’d done to make his world a better place. you thought he’d understand. you thought he’d see the love in it.
"no," you whispered, finally meeting his eyes. your voice was as soft and sweet as ever, the same voice that told him goodnight every night. "i didn't call the police. there’s no reason to."
chan’s face went through a dozen emotions in five seconds. confusion, denial, and then a slow, creeping horror that made his skin turn a sickly shade of grey. he started to back away from you on the floor, his knees hitting a bowl of popcorn and sending it scattering across the rug. he didn't even notice.
"what do you mean there’s no reason to?" his voice was trembling now. "someone bled on you. someone is hurt. or worse. and you’re just sitting here? you’re acting like… like you just spilled juice."
you tilted your head, a few strands of hair falling over your shoulder. "i was just making sure they wouldn't bother anyone anymore, channie. especially not you."
the room went ice cold. chan stopped moving. he was sitting about three feet away from you now, his back against the edge of your sofa. he looked like he wanted to vomit. his eyes were darting between the blood on your side and the placid, innocent expression on your face.
"jiyoon," he breathed, the name barely making it out of his throat. "the girl from your project. you said she moved away. you said she dropped out."
"she was mean to you," you said simply. you reached out a hand toward him, wanting to comfort him because he looked so distressed, but he flinched so hard he nearly tipped over. you pulled your hand back, a small pang of hurt blooming in your chest. "she said such horrible things about your music. she called you lazy. she didn't deserve to be around you. none of them do."
chan’s breath was coming in short, jagged hitches. he was hyperventilating, his chest heaving under his hoodie. "the sasaeng," he choked out, remembering how he'd seen a tweet about her disappearance. "the one from the gym. and… and dae-ho? the guy from the basement?"
"dae-ho was easy," you said, your voice airy. "he was so arrogant. he thought he could talk to you like you were nothing. i just couldn't let that stay the way it was. it wasn't right."
you paused, looking down at your hands. the morality of it all felt so simple to you. it wasn't about being a "bad" person; it was about balance. chan was the best person you knew, and the world was filled with people who tried to dim his light.
you were just the one who handled the shadows.
"and tonight?" chan asked. he sounded like he was choking on his own words. "who was it tonight? was it another staff member? another fan?"
you bit your lip, feeling a little bit shy. "no. just a man at the bus stop. he was being rude to an old lady. and i just… i don't know. i felt like it. i realized i don't really need a reason anymore. the world is better when people like that aren't in it. don't you think?"
chan scrambled back further, his heels digging into the carpet until he hit the wall. he looked at you with pure, unadulterated disgust. it wasn't the look of a boyfriend who was worried; it was the look of a man who had realized he was trapped in a room with a monster.
"you’re insane," he whispered, a tear finally escaping and rolling down his cheek. "you’re… you’ve been killing people. you’ve been coming home to me, letting me hold you, letting me kiss you… with their blood still on your hands? i’ve been thanking you for being so sweet, for being my angel… and all this time, you were…"
he couldn't finish the sentence. he covered his mouth with his hand, a sob breaking through. the sight of him crying, of him being so repulsed by you, finally broke the calm veneer you were holding.
your bottom lip began to tremble. you hadn't expected this. you thought he would see the devotion. you thought he would see that everything you did, you did because you loved him so much you couldn't stand the thought of anything hurting him.
"don't look at me like that," you sobbed, the tears suddenly heavy and hot. you crawled forward on your knees, trying to get closer to him, but he kicked his legs out to keep the distance. "channie, please. i did it for us. i did it so we could be happy! i wanted to protect you!"
"protect me?" he yelled, his voice cracking with a mix of rage and agony. "i didn't ask for this! i don't want people to die for me! i’m a good person—i try to be a good person—and you’ve turned my whole life into a graveyard! how could you do this? how could you be so… so heartless?"
"i'm not heartless!" you wailed, burying your face in your hands. the lace on your sleeves was getting wet with your tears. "i have so much heart it hurts! i love you more than anything! i love you so much i’d do it a thousand times over if it meant you never had to feel sad again!"
you looked up at him, your eyes red and streaming. you looked so small, so fragile, sitting there in your ribbons and your blood-stained knit. it was a terrifying image.
"if you leave me," you said, your voice dropping into a flat, desperate tone that made the hair on chan’s neck stand up. "i’ll do it. i’ll end it all. right now. i have nothing without you, chan. i’ve made myself into this for you. if you walk out that door, i’m taking my own life. i mean it! is that what you want? my blood on your hands?"
chan froze. the anger in his eyes was instantly replaced by a paralyzing panic. he knew you. he knew how obsessive your love was, how deeply you felt everything. he looked at the kitchen, where the knives were. he looked at the balcony.
he didn't know if you were bluffing, but looking at the intensity in your gaze, he didn't think you were.
"no," he gasped, his hands flying up in a universal sign of surrender. "no, no, baby. don't say that. don't say that."
"then stay," you begged, your voice breaking as you reached for him again. this time, he didn't pull away as fast. he was shaking so hard his teeth were practically chattering. "tell me you love me. tell me you aren't going to leave me. i can't be alone, chan. i'll die. i'll actually die."
chan looked at the door, then back at you. he thought about the members. he thought about his career. he thought about the three people—no, four—who were dead because of the girl in front of him.
four he knew of. but how many more? did he even want to know?
he should run. he should call the police. he should get as far away from this apartment as possible.
but then he looked at your face. he saw the girl who left sticky notes in his lyric books. he saw the girl who tied ribbons in her hair just because he said he liked them. he saw the girl he had poured all his love into for the past year.
he felt a wave of crushing, sickening guilt. he felt responsible. if he hadn't been so loud about his struggles, would you have felt the need to "fix" things? if he hadn't been so... soft himself, would you have felt the need to be the hard edge?
he stayed on the floor, his back pressed against the wall. he didn't move toward you, but he didn't leave.
"you're fucking sick," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "you're disgusting."
you crawled the rest of the way to him, and this time, when you wrapped your arms around his waist and sobbed into his lap, he didn't push you away. he just sat there, staring blankly at the tv, his hand hovering over your hair but not quite touching it.
he was in too deep. he realized with a sickening thud in his chest that he wasn't going to call the police. he wasn't going to tell anyone. he loved you too much to watch you die, and he loved you too much to watch you go to prison.
you had won. you had tied him to you with a cord made of blood and lace, and he was too weak to break it.
"i've got you," he whispered, his voice dead and hollow. "i've got you, my love. just stop crying. please just stop crying."
you snuggled closer to him, the blood on your shirt rubbing off onto his hoodie, staining him too. you were finally together, really together. no secrets. no threats. just the two of you in your own little world, just the way it was always meant to be.
"i love you so much, channie," you murmured, closing your eyes.
he parted his lips to respond, but no sound came out. he loved you, of course, more than he should. more than what was right, and the truth wouldn't make him magically stop.
but you just drifted off to sleep, feeling more loved than you ever had in your life. you knew chan wouldn't leave. he couldn't. you had made sure of it. you had built a world just for the two of you, and you didn't care how many bodies you had to bury to keep it that way.
outside, the moon was high and bright, casting a silver glow over the city. it was a beautiful night. a quiet night. a night where everything was exactly as it should be.
chan stayed awake for a long time, listening to your steady, peaceful breathing. he looked at the door, then back at you. he thought about his members, his career, his family. he thought about the person he used to be.
and then he reached out, his hand trembling, and gently tucked a stray ribbon back into your hair.
he was in too deep. and in the quiet of the apartment, he finally accepted that he was never coming back up for air.
cw:blowjob, handjob, teasing, bsfs to fwb(?),jealousy, possessiveness, exhibitionism(?), theres probably more
chan is the social butterfly of your campus. his humble and bubbly persona naturally attracting people to him, being friends with many, acquainted with others, and respected by everyone, hell even professors had a soft spot for him.
and you were lucky enough to be his best friend, practically attatched to the hip, having known him since highschool. some of his popularity naturally rubbed off on you. however, girls...envied you.
it wasn't your fault really, nor his to be exact. it was just coincidence.
his last girlfriend had walked in on you over to his dorm. both of you all cuddled up watching a movie. she obviously threw a fit. screaming at both you and him, accusing him of cheating.
he honestly wasn't. this was normal, both of you said to yourselves. you'd known him since forever, he was like your older brother. you would never see him like that.
it was also 'normal' for him to be so possessive of you, successfully scaring away any guy that approached you. planting thoughts like "oh no that one isnt good enough for you" or "that one cheated on his ex". and you always listened you him. he was just looking out for you, thats what friends do.
however, what friends don't do is makeout at some frat party.
but here you were now, at some rich kid's two story house, loud music playing in the background. but neither of you concentrated on that, too busy shoving your tongues down eachothers throats.
everything happened too fast. you were too drunk, standing next to chan as you chatted with some people from around campus when some girl with a dress too short came and started shamelessly flirting with chan.
you didn't like that one specifically, having seen her before shooting you dirty looks around university hallways. you didn't care tho. she wasn't the first or last person to do that.
but for her to come over like that? ass barely covered by that excuse of a dress. you felt something strange bubbling in your chest, jealousy.
chan obviously wasnt flirting back, just laughing uncomfortably. eyes darting around the room, then to you. the something inside you snapped, pulling him by his collar and kissing him messily.
a couple of cheers erupted from the room, someone shouting "finally!" as chan didn't hesitate to kiss you back.
you broke off the kiss just a few seconds later, smirking at the girl. feeling victorious as you looked at her fuming expression.
you grabbed him by his wrist, placing the cup in your hand on the nearest surface as you speed walked to the stairs. pulling him up with you as your bodies bumped into people going up and down the stairs.
you pulled him into the nearest empty bathroom and slammed the door beind you, locking it as you pinned him against the wall, kissing him again.
he was barley processing anything that was going on, being a little tipsy himself. but he was not complaining. he never saw this side of you, all possessive compared to your usually calm state.
you broke the kiss, trying to catch his breath as you trailed kisses down his neck.
"w-whats all this for?" he said. his mouth parting in a sigh as you bit and sucked on his neck
"i didn't like the way she was looking at you" you say flatly. latching your mouth onto his neck again, leaving marks like you're marking your territory.
oh he felt himself twitch in his pants at that, grabbing your waist just to touch you as he let out breathy moans when you bit that one sensitive spot on his neck.
you suddenly dropped down to your knees, knees touching the grimy bathroom floor as you came face to face with his hardon, buldging against the confines of his jeans. "you're already hard" you mutter, pressing your finger to his tip poking throuw the fabric.
"did it turn you on seeing me all worked up?" you said as you looked up at him through your fake lashes, palm rubbing against his jeans.
"fuck yeah it did, you look so sexy when you're mad baby"
heat pooled at your stomach at the pet name, he always called you that jokingly, but this time it felt different.
you just hummed, reaching to unbuckle his belt before pulling down his pants and boxers in one, revealing his hard cock so achey and leaking for you.
without really thinking (as you were drunk) you held your right hand up to his mouth. "spit." you ordered, voice missing its usually softness.
his eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating "w-what?"
"i said spit, channie" you repeat. voice stern despite the nickname.
he looked at you, then down at your awating hand before obeying, blob landing on your palm with a 'splat'. you let out a hum of approval, satisfied, before bringing your hand down to his cock, starting with a quick pace.
he let out a surprised moan, one hand clutching the doorknob "oh fuck baby. hah— you're so sexy when you act all possessive like that" he sighed out.
"flirt with her like that again and you'll have it worse" you answer
"i was not flirting with her, she's—fuck—she's the one who came to me" your movement never stopped
"same thing"
"thats not-oh shitt!" you shut up any other excuse. taking him into your mouth. suppressing a cough as he stretched your throat, your eyes watering.
"fucckkkk" was all he could say as you hollowed your cheeks around him. making his cock leak pre down your throat. you took his remaining length into your hand.
"oh fuck meeee" he whined. throwing his head back against the wall with a little thud. his hand coming up to grip your hair. trying to thrust into your mouth before you dug your manicured nails into his hips. keeping him still.
you looked up at him through your lashes, your thighs tightning at the sight of him. his head thrown back, eyes screwed shut as he chanted your name over and over, giving people people outside a good idea of who and what was happening inside.
but you didnt care, focusing your movement on his cock so he keeps moaning like that for you.
you felt him twitch in your mouth and his hips stuttering in your hold 'he's close' you thought, finally pulling your mouth away, making him let out a pained moan at the loss before letting out a string of moans, variations of your name spilling out as you jerked him off with both hands.
"i think you're close baby" you giggled. licking at his tip before swiping your thumb over it
"fuck yes m'so close baby— fuck you're so hot" you smiled up to him at the praise "oh fuck— dont smile at me like that— hah or m'gonna bust" he laughed delirously. the pleasure taking over him.
"go on chan, cum for me" and just like that he tipped over the edge. hips stuttering and balls tightening as he came all over your hand.
he let out a laugh after he came down from it all "what does this make us then, hmm?" he asked
"i dunno, i dont like other girls around you"
"dont tempt me to get a girlfriend just to get your reaction"
"fuck around and find out, baby" you whisper as you pulled him in for another kiss.
a/n: im gonna be on a plane for the next couple of hours, so ill try to get some requests done. thank you guys for being patient :(
as always reblogs and likes are appreciated. hope ya loved this one freaks :)
lmk if i missed anything!! sorry in advance for any spelling mistakes.
chan had gotten a new haircut, his hair a shorter length than before, dyed blond. so the moment he stepped foot into your shared apartment, you practically pounced on him.
and there you were, face down ass up on his silk sheets, back arched intensely and he plowed into you from the back. your hand gripping the sheets as a life line with his glasses placed next to it. the sound of skin slapping taking over the room with your moans and his groans. his tip borderline abusing your cervix as he set a brutal pace.
"ohhh-fuckk chrisss!" your face shoved into his sheets as he gripped your neck from behind, turning his fast pace into slow, deep grinds. effectively hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.
"yeaah.. feels so good huh baby" you could hear the cocky smirk on his face as he let go of your neck and slapped your ass, gripping onto the now red plumped skin as he watched himself get swallowed by your greedy cunt.
"nghhh fuckkkk, please harder chris-oh fuck!" your hands reached back, trying to hold onto anything to keep yourself grounded. his hands left your ass as he used both your arms as momentum to go faster, head lifting from the mattress as the sound of skin slapping growing impossibly louder "harder?—mffffuckk— is this hard enough for you princess?" he sped up his pounding even more as your face fell into the sheets again with a loud moan.
he releases your arms before pressing his hands into the dimples of your back. he’s angling his hips to hit you deep in that spot you love. “more! m-more fuckkk- just like that..!” you moan, drooling with your lips slightly parted, your eyes rolling back from how good hes fucking your cunt.
he threw his head back with a loud groan as he gripped your hips. slowing his pace before giving your ass a few slaps "c'mon pretty, fuck me back y-yea?" he stuttered as he felt you clench around him. you propped yourself on both arms as you fucked your ass back onto him. the sight so pretty he couldn't help but reaching to grab his phone and film a video to get himself off later, zooming in where his cock keeps disappearing inside you, your greedy cunt swallowing it. muttering an "ohhhh yea baby—fuck jus' like that— good girllll" with a raspy, fucked out voice “g-give it to me chan.. wan’ it please,” you’re pouting, looking back at him with begging eyes. now you’ve really done it.
he positioned his phone under you, catching the sight of your cunt swallowing his cock from below before he grabed your throat, whispering "open" before spitting in your mouth then pushes your head back into the sheets, fingers wrapping around the back of your neck. “such a f-fucking slut- shiiit.. m’gonna cum, where do ya want it- hah..” you got him whining now, he was done for. “i-inside! don’t miss- nngh..please m’cumming!” your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head, pussy tightening around his cock, drooling all over him as you chase your high. he’s rutting his hips into you as long white spurts shoot into your womb causing you to mewl.
"oh—hah—feel so full chan" you whine, holding onto his hand as you came down from your high. "yeah feels good princess? hah" he smirks and you lean back to plant a kiss on his lips. "another?" he asks. "mhmm" you whine as you lean back down. you were in for a longggg night, thoughts and prayers for your neighbours.
a/n: chan's recent airport looks are making me feral.
hope you enjoyed if you made it to the end you freaks. likes and reblogs are appreciated :))
summ: you still hate laboratories, but getting in a cabinet with jisung might be the first academic decision you’d gladly repeat.
⋆ pairing: nerd!jisung x f!reader
⋆ genre: smut (minors dni)
⋆ tags/cw: college au, almost no plot lol, kissing, biting, hair pulling, handjob, oral (m!receiving), teasing?, soft dom!reader, semi-public s*x, lots of whinning and begging, cum eating, boring science stuff ig
⋆ words: 3.6k
a/n: first time posting here. i’m really excited! i’ve been writing a lot about jisung lately, and i thought… why not post these somewhere? so here we are. nerdsung is truly my beloved, so expect to see a lot of him around here. if you notice anything missing from the tags, feel free to let me know ;)
that absolutely wasn’t your scene.
the lab smelled like a strange mix of aggressive disinfectant and something vaguely chemical that you couldn’t quite name, but definitely didn’t want to breathe in for extended periods of time. the perfectly aligned glassware, the suspicious-looking clear liquids, and the white coats paired with safety goggles were, without exaggeration, your personal definition of hell.
it just wasn’t your thing.
it never really had been.
you had zero interest in understanding chemical reactions or spending hours trapped in a space that looked like it had been designed specifically for people who enjoyed suffering voluntarily.
but that was exactly where you’d ended up. and you almost wished it had been for something remotely interesting, like a competition with an actual prize. something minimally stimulating that might have made the whole experience tolerable.
but no.
you simply sucked at chemistry and needed help to pass. it was either this or retake the course. and if there was anything you hated more than chemistry, it was the idea of reliving this same academic nightmare all over again.
you tied your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you stared with obvious displeasure at the white coat being held out to you by the boy standing in front of you.
han jisung.
the top chemistry student. the department’s pride and joy. the owner of an absurd arsenal of medals, trophies, and recognitions that honestly seemed excessive for someone whose hobby was mixing transparent liquids.
you never imagined you’d end up alone in a deserted lab with that walking brain.
but this was your only option.
that, and —if you were being completely honest with yourself— he was the only attractive nerd who didn’t immediately start drooling the second you walked into a room.
with him, at least, you could have a normal, coherent conversation without needing to remind him how to behave like a functioning human being.
the bar was painfully low, yeah.
you rolled your eyes at the thought and slipped on the coat with a sigh.
the sooner you started, the sooner you could go home, sink into your bed, and continue your beloved series. popcorn wouldn’t hurt either. you made a mental note.
“i promise this won’t take long,” jisung murmured. his voice was soft, slightly unsure.
you watched him pick up a test tube rack and place it carefully on the long white counter. every movement was precise and deliberate, almost reverent. you hummed in response, absentmindedly twirling a glass stir rod between your fingers.
the plan was simple: teach you something basic enough so you wouldn’t completely bomb your presentation the next day. you weren’t asking for a miracle, just something that would make you look vaguely competent.
jisung, of course, had suggested aiming higher and trying for an outstanding grade. something involving far too many steps, far too many things, and far too much time.
you had said no before he even finished explaining.
“for our first experiment,” he began, this time with noticeably more confidence, “we’re going to use this burette, a flask, phenolphthalein, and two important solutions.”
the shift in his tone caught your attention more than you cared to admit.
“sodium hydroxide and hydrochloric acid.”
he pointed at two perfectly labeled test tubes with a small but proud smile.
jisung stepped closer to the burette, picked up one of the tubes, and handed it to you with that same shy smile. when his fingers brushed yours, you noticed something.
he was trembling.
barely, but unmistakably.
“fill the burette with this. be careful. no bubbles,” he instructed, watching you with serious focus.
you bit your lip, concentrating far more than usual. the clear liquid slid down slowly until the tube was empty. when you finished, you looked up. jisung was staring at you like you’d accomplished something extraordinary.
you let out a quiet laugh at his proud expression over the fact that you’d successfully poured a liquid without spilling it.
ridiculously adorable.
he took the flask and poured in the hydrochloric acid, then lifted the small bottle of phenolphthalein.
“only two drops.”
you followed his instructions exactly. once you were done, you frowned slightly.
nothing had changed.
the liquid remained stubbornly, boringly clear.
jisung moved the flask beneath the burette and looked at you with dramatic seriousness. you raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter.
“what?”
“this step is crucial,” he said, like the fate of the universe depended on it. “you need to open the burette- carefully! and while you do that, swirl the flask in circles.”
you blinked at him in silence.
you weren’t sure what amused you more: his intensity or the faint flush creeping up his cheeks.
you nudged him lightly with your hip as you grabbed the flask without much care. he reacted instantly. his eyes widened in panic, and his hands closed around yours.
the warmth of his touch wrapped around you, soft and unexpectedly pleasant. something shifted uncomfortably in your stomach. a small, unwelcome flutter settling low in your tummy.
“please be careful. it’s fragile,” he murmured, almost whispering, before gently setting the flask down.
something told you he wasn’t just talking about the glassware.
he stepped back toward the burette, leaving a noticeably larger gap between you. you pressed your lips together.
“first i’ll show you how it’s done. then you can try it yourself.”
you didn’t like that distance at all.
in silent protest, you moved closer, deliberately brushing your arm against his. jisung inhaled sharply.
you smiled sweetly, fingers sliding along the glass of the flask.
“i want a closer look,” you said, your tone anything but innocent. “does that bother you?”
he shook his head quickly. maybe too quickly. his gaze dropped to your fingers, following every movement with almost hypnotic focus.
“y-yeah- i mean no! it’s fine…”
you nodded, batting your lashes. you gave him one of your best smiles. his adam’s apple bobbed visibly.
okay.
maybe jisung was one of those nerds who secretly drooled over you in class. at least he was better at hiding it and you were deeply grateful he hadn’t said anything stupid.
“watch closely, y/n. this is where the magic happens”, his voice carried genuine excitement.
his eyes were shining. that wide, heart-shaped smile nearly criminal.
great.
maybe being trapped in a lab with han jisung wasn’t such a harmless situation after all. something radioactive had to be floating in the air.
or maybe you’d just never paid enough attention.
because there was no way you could’ve ignored that smile, those eyes that always looked slightly amazed by everything, and those hands.
oh, those long, delicate fingers moving with careful precision in ways that sent your mind spiraling.
yeah.
you were absolutely losing it.
“do you understand?” jisung asked, adjusting his glasses.
you nodded despite not hearing a single word.
taking that as confirmation, he opened the stopcock.
“then let’s do it.”
by the fifth drop, you were already bored. by the tenth, you glanced sideways at him. and by the fifteenth, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.
patience had never been your strength.
“how much longer?” you complained, cheek resting against your palm.
“there’s no exact number, y/n.”
of course there wasn’t.
you rolled your eyes and shamelessly studied him instead.
his profile was unfairly pretty.
that small nose, those slightly pouted lips, lashes so perfectly curled they almost irritated you.
when the liquid finally turned pink, jisung practically lit up.
“there!”
he closed the valve, clapping with pure excitement, looking at you with that bright, expectant grin.
you stared at him, surprised by the smile forming on your own lips.
he was radiant.
your gaze flickered to the pink liquid, then back to him.
jisung had his hand raised. you met it with an easy high five.
the smile you got in return was dangerous.
“you’re better than i expected,” you teased, bumping his shoulder. “i’m glad i picked you as my tutor, ji.”
the nickname alone short-circuited him. you could practically see it. he smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
“well, uh- you’re a good learner. you’ll do great. i mean- of course you will. you’re… amazing.”
it was too much. simply too adorable for a single human being.
and technically, everything was done. the deal had been fulfilled.
and yet neither of you moved.
“you know,” you started, slowly shrugging off your coat, “science isn’t so terrible.”
jisung followed every movement openly now, shameless.
“not at all! once you understand chemical symbols, it can actually be fun. sometimes i even make words using the letters from the symbols. there are… interesting combinations.”
you had never seen something so nerdy sound so ridiculously charming.
that warm, tingly heat came back to your stomach, stronger this time, sending a shiver through you.
great.
you arched a brow, carefully undoing your ponytail so you wouldn’t pull at your hair. once it was loose, you casually ran your fingers through it, fixing it without much thought.
“sounds interesting. you’ll have to show me that someday,” you said.
that excited spark immediately returned to jisung’s eyes. honestly, if he kept doing that, the sugar rush alone might kill you.
“i didn’t think i’d have this much fun with you, ji,” you added, slipping your things into your bag. “i didn’t even realize how alone we are here.”
a thick silence settled over your words. the distant look on jisung’s face made you finish the thought for him.
“you know… locked in… with no one around.”
okay. maybe that comment had a little more intention behind it.
jisung felt like this was his last chance to get a foot out of that lab. he glanced at the small window on the door, staring at the empty hallway.
he shook his head, looking away with a nervous laugh. he just needed to focus on literally anything else so his mind wouldn’t wander somewhere it absolutely shouldn’t.
but you weren’t going to make that easy for him. of course not.
“shouldn’t we put everything back in the cabinet? you know, the lab coats and the materials,” you said, gesturing with your chin, your tone deceptively neutral.
he looked at the supplies on the counter, then at the test tubes still in his hands. you were right. he nodded silently and began placing everything back on the rack with careful precision.
you picked up the lab coats with feigned disinterest, following him with a grin you didn’t bother hiding. you could see how tense he was, how his body trembled ever so slightly as he set things down on the shelf.
the cabinet was smaller than you remembered. the air inside felt different. heavier. hotter. every breath sounded too loud.
“okay… that’s everything. we can… go,” jisung murmured, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights.
“really?” you asked softly, taking a step forward. “i thought there were still a few things we could do.”
“i… already put everything away.”
you smiled, glancing away for a moment. jisung could only stare at you in disbelief. he never imagined he’d be standing this close to you, alone, without it feeling awkward.
the discomfort in his pants only worsened, fueled by the strange tension that was slowly suffocating him.
“then i guess it’s just us.”
jisung swallowed hard, wetting his lips. he genuinely had no idea how he was supposed to act right now.
you took another step, noticing the way his eyes flickered nervously, tracing every inch of your face. his adam’s apple bobbed visibly.
“you’ve been nervous since we came in here. haven’t you?”
jisung’s eyes widened in shock. he thought he’d been handling things pretty well. he glanced at his trembling hands and mentally cursed.
“no- well, yeah. just a little,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. he sighed, defeated. “it’s a small space...”
you shrugged, absentmindedly tracing the edge of the shelf beside you.
“doesn’t bother me,” you said, brushing lightly against his shoulder. “actually… i like it.”
“you like it?” jisung asked, his voice caught somewhere between scandalized and stunned. it cracked slightly at the end.
you laughed softly, nodding as you stepped closer, leaning unexpectedly toward his ear.
“i like it when you get like this with me,” you whispered, your lips grazing his skin. “nervous. shaky. waiting.”
jisung froze, holding his breath, fingers curling tightly around the edge of his cardigan.
“i- i didn’t mean to- i mean, i do like this, but… i thought you were just being friendly…”
you stepped even closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, locking eyes with him. that familiar excited gleam had returned.
apparently, science wasn’t the only thing that could light him up.
“since chemistry… i-”
“i know,” you replied calmly, shrugging with a soft, knowing smile. “and now i’m the one who wants to test something.”
jisung nodded awkwardly. there was nothing to agree to, but somehow it felt necessary. he swallowed again, his voice trembling as your fingers traced slow circles into his shoulder.
“test… what?”
you smiled, glancing down briefly, then back at him as your fingers slid gently into the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing a shaky breath from his lips.
“whether this is just weird tension…” your nose brushed against his. “or if we’re actually going to do something about it.”
jisung stared at your lips like he physically couldn’t stop himself anymore, like nothing else existed inside that cramped cabinet.
he wet his lips again, heart pounding so loudly it roared in his ears like the end of the world.
“are you sure? i mean- it’s me. jisung. scientist, comic nerd, level sixty in genshin-”
“jisung.”
his name on your lips completely unraveled him. you saw it happen in real time, the way something inside him gave out, his shoulders dropping just slightly, the unbearable tension finally cracking.
and when you looped your arm around his neck, his hands found your waist with clumsy, desperate need, like his body reacted long before his brain could catch up.
the contact was electric. absurdly intense. his fingers pressed into your skin, his entire body tensing against yours, his breathing already uneven.
“i shouldn’t be this easy to convince…” he murmured, voice shaking, more to himself than to you.
you smiled faintly. because you absolutely knew what you were doing.
“you can say no, ji. you know that.”
it was a clear invitation. and your lips brushing against his sealed it. a trembling breath slipped from his mouth, so fragile it made something tighten in your chest.
“i can’t…”
and then everything collapsed.
the kiss exploded into something raw, hungry, and long overdue. his lips crashed against yours with desperate clumsiness, breaths tangling, teeth grazing, hands gripping like he’d needed this for weeks. maybe months.
your hands slid into his hair, fingers threading through like they belonged there. jisung let out a choked sound when you tugged gently.
his back hit the cold cabinet wall with a dull thud, the sharp contrast between the chill and your heated body tearing a broken gasp from his lips. you took advantage instantly, your tongue slipping past his mouth.
that small, helpless moan vibrating against you was enough to make you tighten your grip in his hair.
you needed more.
“look at you…” you whispered against his mouth, barely pulling away. “so sensitive…”
jisung actually trembled. his hands, still slightly unsure, moved along your waist with that intoxicating mix of disbelief and need, like some part of him still couldn’t fully process that this was real, that he was allowed to touch you like this.
you guided his hands slowly to your ass, grinning when he gasped.
“y/n…” his voice sounded weak. completely gone.
your mouth moved down his jaw unhurriedly, leaving damp kisses along his neck, his skin burning beneath your lips. you could feel his pulse racing wildly, and when your teeth sank lightly into his skin, his fingers dug into you with almost violent urgency.
“h-holy shit…”
his hips jerked slightly, a small movement loaded with desperation. your hands slid across his chest, feeling his rapid breathing, the constant tremble in his muscles, the way every exhale sounded more wrecked than the last.
every sound you made near his ear had an immediate effect. you could feel it. you knew it.
you were absolutely ruining him.
“mmh… p-please…”
his voice came out completely shattered, fragile in a way that made you grit your teeth, your own arousal intensifying with every broken whimper.
“touch me… please… i- nngh- i need you to touch me…”
you lifted your gaze slowly, savoring every detail of his expression: glassy, blown pupils, uneven breaths, swollen parted lips like even breathing had become too much.
so unbelievably sensitive.
your hand slid down deliberately to his crotch, brushing lightly over the fabric while your mouth returned to his neck. jisung moaned, the sound bouncing off the tight cabinet walls as his grip on you tightened.
“like this?”
his hands clutched your ass firmly, roaming your hips, your thighs, unable to stay still, completely intoxicated by the heat, the contact, everything about you.
he needed more.
“is this what you wanted, sungie?”
he nodded immediately, almost frantically, whimpering into your neck, legs already unsteady.
“yes- fuck, yes…”
his breathing grew more erratic by the second, incoherent curses spilling from his lips, his body reacting to every tiny movement, every brush, every agonizing second you dragged out the tension.
“i’m not going to last if you keep doing that…”
the confession came out as a humiliating whine, and the sheer honesty of it was devastating.
his hands shook violently, his breaths hitching when your fingers slipped beneath the fabric. the dampness coating his cock was unmistakable. jisung let out a low, wrecked groan.
his hands rose to your face, holding you gently before kissing you again. there was still a hint of clumsiness, but hunger drove everything now. his tongue brushed your lower lip slowly, drawing a needy sound from you.
“jisung…”
your hand sped up, and his hips responded instantly, thrusting desperately for more friction, the sounds falling from his throat growing louder, less restrained.
when your fingers brushed the tip of his cock, jisung nearly collapsed, a pout forming on his lips as broken whimpers filled the cabinet.
“don’t stop— pleasepleaseplease don’t stop…”
he grabbed the shelf beside him as his legs trembled violently. your smile widened as you slowly sank down in front of him, watching him choke on his own breath.
“y/n… i- i-”
his words died when your hands wrapped around his cock again, firmer this time, stroking with slow, torturous intent while you looked up at him.
his chest heaved. cheeks flushed deep red. lips trembling uncontrollably.
“wait-” his hand tangled into your hair, grip shaking. “i’m sensitive- i’m going to come if you-”
“do it.”
the command hit him like gasoline on fire. the reaction was immediate, his entire body jolting.
you moved your hand in a slow rhythm, every stroke pulling visible spasms from his body. jisung’s head fell back.
“f-fuck…”
his hips moved uncontrollably, trying to chase your pace, but the second your tongue brushed his tip, his whole body convulsed violently, fingers tightening painfully in your hair.
and when your lips closed around him, the sound that tore from his throat was completely obscene. the cabinet filled with wet sounds, broken breathing, desperate whimpers that only drove you further.
the heat was suffocating. the air barely there. jisung’s body was slick with sweat, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, hips completely losing coordination.
“ah- fuck… i- i can’t- i’m gonna-”
his movements became frantic, desperate, until they ended in one final shattered moan, his entire body tensing before collapsing against the wall, spilling every last drop of cum into your mouth.
jisung struggled to breathe, lungs burning, mind completely blank. it had been unreal, overwhelming, like he’d short-circuited entirely. and when he saw you swallow everything with that satisfied smile, he genuinely thought he might come again.
when your eyes met, you smiled softly, rising to lean back against the wall. jisung looked like he’d just run a marathon, chest still heaving as he laughed breathlessly, running a hand through his damp hair.
holy shit. that had actually happened.
“you okay?” you asked gently, fingers brushing through his hair.
jisung let out a quiet laugh at the attention.
“y-yeah… i think so…”
he pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart still pounding violently. you leaned into his shoulder in comfortable silence, feeling his body finally relax.
“sorry if i…” he started hesitantly. “if i made too much noise or… i don’t know…”
you shook your head, lightly bumping your nose against his.
“i liked it,” you admitted casually, stretching.
kneeling hadn’t exactly been comfortable. but it had absolutely been worth it. jisung stared at you like you’d just revealed the biggest secret in human history.
“are you serious?”
you smiled sweetly. “completely.”
something in his expression softened. he looked down, fidgeting with the edge of his cardigan, a shy laugh escaping him.
then reality seemed to hit.
he glanced around nervously, like someone might magically appear.
“we should probably go…” jisung said, vaguely pointing toward the door. “before someone shows up.”
you nodded, taking his hand confidently, lacing your fingers with his. his face did that adorable, overwhelmed thing again.
you glanced at him sideways. “want something to drink?”
his eyes lit up instantly.
dangerous. you could get addicted to that.
“do you like iced americanos?”
you hesitated, grabbing your bag as you walked.
“never tried one.”
jisung practically vibrated beside you.
“then you have to. i know a place nearby that makes the best ones.”
and you walked out of the lab with flushed cheeks, fingers still intertwined, the conversation quickly dissolving into jisung rambling excitedly about coffee shops, games, and sci-fi movies.
you still hated laboratories.
those awful chemicals, those lab coats that didn’t match anything in your closet. that much would never change.
but maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind coming back.
in which chris has a baby dream on valentine’s day.
Chris loves Valentine’s Day. And no, not because of the sexual expectation—not entirely, save for after he takes you to a nice restaurant later that night—but because of the intimacy, the opportunity to spoil you just a bit more without an excuse on his tongue for your feigned scolding.
He’s always adored acts of service, after all.
Which is why, per your request to stay in this Valentines, you’re curled up together in bed until late that morning. Where afternoon sunlight peers through the curtains, limbs entangled like knotted ribbon. His beefy arm, always so warm, has curled its way around you, cocooned against his chest and left subject to wherever his dreams tug him.
In this case, you’re currently being tugged to his other side, maneuvered as if a ragdoll by the evidently unconscious husband of yours, leaving no argument but a grunt from yourself.
The thing is, you can always tell when he has an intense dream. Face scrunching, hugging you tighter to his body akin to a child. Close, perfect nose pressed to your neck, in your hair. Seeking your scent as you do him.
After a particularly deep breath, he wakes himself up, bleary eyes cracking open before grumbling to himself and ushering you closer (if closer was even possible at this rate).
”Dreamin’?” You prompt gently, voice rasping against lack of use, gaze flickering up to his equally sleepy one past your lashes.
Unconsciously, his index eases a strand of hair from your face, careful to tuck behind your ear.
Tender, mindful. Following that comes a kiss to your forehead, his lips curving into this giddy smile you’ve come to adore.
”The best dream,” He answers, pupils dilating as you roll around to face him. Soaking in your expressions amidst a hazy, post-slumber daze. Thumbing away the sleep from your eyes, another kiss arrives, this time on your nose.
And it’s those next words of his that clarify that it wasn’t a nightmare he was experiencing.
”We had a baby.” He whispers, the words disbelieving even to his own ears. Soft, tentative. Like holding an egg oh so carefully in fear it would break at the slightest movement.
“She was perfect.”
To see your husband become emotional over something already broke your heart into pieces, but it was an entirely different rodeo when he was happy. Glossy eyes, this marveling smile. A tone so sweet you had no need for chocolates today.
He taps the edge of your lips.
”Had your smile. ‘Was so happy just to see me.”
His arm comes up over his eyes, shifting onto his back. And while initially content with letting him back in awe, his hiccuping sniffle was something you weren’t prepared for.
Springing upwards instantaneously, you patiently ease his hands from his eyes, shushing the tears away with chaste pecks to his face and one slow, final kiss that the both of you melt into instinctively. Naturally.
”Didn’t mean to get so emotional-“
Another hiccup. You hush his words.
Another kiss, sighing into your lips.
”I just love you so much-“
Another kiss, his hands curling around your lower back where you prop yourself atop him.
Silence consumes the room. But it isn’t uncomfortable. Steady, soft. Your fingers in his hair, his palms running slow patterns along your hips.
It had been a discussion. Once or twice. After four years of marriage, another member of the family. Contemplating, debating. Ensuring. Emotional wellness, financial security. The little things that Chris treated like religion. Getting blood tests, working out more.
His responsibility as much as yours to be a parent, he would remind you. Remind you that pregnancy wouldn’t be a process you’d endure alone.
”Chris.” Your turn to whisper, nose buried into his cheek. He hums in response.
”I’m ovulating.”
A wordless: I’m ready.
Maybe you thought his reaction would be immediate. Shell-shocked, gaping. Totally oblivious until nearly thirty seconds later where he falls frozen still, like a fish out of water.
And very quickly does the man come to realize it wasn’t a fact, but an invitation.
His ears warm a thousand degrees, the bedroom dissolving into your laughter and his blazing embarrassment where he hides himself in your neck.
personal trainer!chan who you have the biggest crush on ever since you layed your eyes on him. you definitely hadn't mentally prepared yourself on staying disciplined to a workout routine let alone having the finest man you've ever seen guide you to it.
personal trainer!chan who was stricter than you'd thought. the pleasantries you shared at first tricked you into thinking he'd be easy and flexible. but he made you start the hardest workouts on the get go.
personal trainer!chan who compliments your matching sets you come to the gym with. eyeing you up and down when they hug your curves so well.
personal trainer!chan who lets you have as many breaks as you want, often accompanying you and paying for whatever protein bars you get from the vending machine despite your protests.
personal trainer!chan who always gives you words of motivation and encouragement when you're in the gym. seeing progress in your figure, your workouts shaping your body the way you wanted.
personal trainer!chan who quickly got comfortable with..hands on training. always having his hand son you somehow, "fixing your posture". which you'd caught on the fact that its an excuse but enjoying the flutter in your stomach when he does it.
personal trainer!chan who takes all chances to showcase his strength to you, bench pressing more weight than you thought was humanly possible. another time insisting you sit ontop the leg press machine, impressing you when he easily lifts you with the weight he already had on.
personal trainer!chan who gets you a hot and bothered doing push ups shirtless, the light illuminating the sheen layer of sweat dripping from his body. the grunts and groans he's letting out filling your head with thoughts of what he can do to you.
personal trainer!chan who has you two do a late night workout session with only you two in the gym, you come in with your matching set and water bottle with a smile on your face, not a single thought behind those eyes on what he plans to do with you
personal trainer!chan who helps you stretch, maintaining eye contact with a hungry glint in his eyes, making you look away flushed.
personal trainer!chan who has you doing barbell squats. hand hovering near your ass and hips, insisting hes just "fixing your form"
personal trainer!chan who had you bent over the rack 5 minutes later, leggings ripped and panties shoved to the side. pounding you from behind as he held one leg up while you cried out his name
personal trainer!chan who’s got you bending in all types of positions, each one making your eyes roll back at the way he hits that spot deep inside you. “This is what we were practicing for, sweetheart.”
personal trainer!chan who even fucks you in the showers, palm on your mouth, muffling you noises as he fucks you against the wall.
personal trainer!chan who takes you home with him and fucks you some more, making you take him on his kitchen counter, his couch, his bed, then in his showers again. fucking you like he hated you but whispering how much of a good girl you are for taking him.
personal trainer!chan who surprised you by being bashful the next morning, finally asking you out on a date like a normal person.
warnings: SMUT. this is filthy yo. gaslighting, emotional manipulation, power play, mean dom!minho, begging, spit play, tits sucking, fingering, multiple orgasms, choking, overstimulation, degradation, sub!reader, praising kink, grinding, slight dumbification, teasing, riding, doggy style, hair pulling, reader has cat ears and tail, vibrator, slapping(once), praising, biting, brief mention of blood(droplets. not from penetration), piv, anal fingering, butt plug, lube, dirty talking, slight dacryphilia, reader is in heat(more like minho is), use of the word 'kitty/kitten' and 'jagi', there's more i prob missed. this is freaked out as hell lowkey...
wc: ~4k
This is based off this btw. releasing some of my drafts.
Minho has been so busy lately. Their new comeback eating at his schedule, robbing you of your time together.
You crave him. You crave his voice, his touch, his warmth. Him.
It doesn't help that you've been so heated these days, an unrelenting flush spreading throughout your body every second. The mass pooling at your core to the point of being painful, unbearable. Your tail awfully stiff, rubbing against any appliance or wall, curling up embarrassingly.
You haven't told Minho yet, ashamed to become a liability given his tired state every night. Coming home late. Late enough for you to be tucked in. Sleeping. Pretending to be asleep. His scent dominates your train of thoughts whenever he's close, making it impossible to truly fall asleep. Wrapping your limbs around him as he dozes off, muffling your nose down his neck, tip of your tongue begging to lick at his skin—refraining from doing so the best you could.
Till you couldn't.
Being in his proximity made it worse with your senses heightened. You crave for something, anything. Humping the pillows subconsciously during the day, your fists plowed into the sheets, back perked up while rubbing your cheek on the mattress. Basking in his smell. Stopping right before he gets home, scurrying off to pretend to be busy.
He eyes you, skeptical at your unusual behavior. You're normally so clingy, but now you're avoiding him? Darting your pupils to look at anywhere but him. As if he was non-existent. It hurts him, truly. Walking off when he calls for you, scrambling away when he makes contact with you.
At first, he was confused. You've never acted this way before, the idea of you hating him filled his mind. But then it clicked. It clicked when you were sitting down the couch, hugging a pillow close to your chest, your thighs pressed together tightly. You hadn't noticed him coming that day—coming home earlier than usual—too focused on whatever that was playing on TV, your ears drooped low, biting your lips, cheeks flushed. Weird, considering nothing on the screen could be making you react that way.
He leans forward, face next to the back of your head, he breathes out. Blowing softly on your ears, taking in your reaction as they twitch awake. Panic immediately seers, tilting back to make eye contact with Minho. Your stomach drops, ready to get on your feet and flee but he grabs on your shirt; stumbling you back onto the couch with a thud. “Min—”
“Quit running away,” he interrupts, walking over to you, "What's going on?” he asks, quirking a brow. His gaze never leaves yours, following your drifting pupils. You gulp, flushness creeping up to your face as you refuse to speak.
He sighs, annoyed. Leaning down, arms on either side of you, caging you on the couch. “I won't ask again, kitten. What's going on?”
You feel small, his presence taking over you, clouding your mind with hopeless desires. He's right in front of you, giving you his attention. You could ask—but you can't bring yourself to, tail curling around your leg in discomfort. “Nothing…” you mumble, not even you buying it.
His knuckles meet your chin, tilting your head upwards to face him properly. Studying your face, thumb brushes past your cheek tentatively. You whine. Mouth parting slightly, breathing growing uneven way too quickly. He hums, his hand trailing down your jaw to your neck, resting on your collarbone; warmth spreads across your skin where he touches you. “Is this nothing? I can clearly see something's wrong. How can I help unless you tell me?”
Your chest heaves underneath his contact, lips press tight. “Minho…” you voice meekly, your fingers squeezing the pillow tight, claws digging on the cotton surface. “I—” you try to tell him. Really. But you can't, and it's so cute to him how you're trying your best to. But his kitty needs his help to even voice out what she needs? Thinking over if he has made you too dependent.
“It's okay,” he coos, slowly closing the distance, his smooth voice fills the room. “Maybe I should teach you how to speak? You seem to have forgotten,” he smiles down your neck, leaving kisses so velvet next to such harsh words.
He runs his thumb over the seam of your shirt, hands trailing down your exposed thighs, “Avoiding me… ignoring me all week, but still wearing my clothes?” he rucks the shirt up, revealing nothing underneath. He chuckles, light, his fanning breath running a shiver through your nerves. Heat pools at you, praying that he doesn't inch his hand closer to your core, pussy leaking on the couch. Though, a part of you wish he would. To find out, and coax the words out of your throat.
Your thighs twitch close, the sole obstacle being his body. He holds them open, firmly spreading you further for him to nestle in. He kisses his way up your neck, to your jaw. Lips finding your cheeks, pressing softly till he finds your ear. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” he whispers, nibbling down the sensitive spot. The noise he elicits from you is timid, barely there. You let go of the pillow, instinctively finding his back instead. Holding him closer, claws tearing the fabric of his shirt. “Am I difficult to deal with? Do you hate me?”
You shake your head, “No!” seemingly taken-aback that the thought even crossed his mind. Buying what he's saying. Affected. He smiles. Sticking his forehead to yours. You're so gullible. So naive, you’d believe anything that comes out of his mouth.
“I'll do better, jagi. I'm sorry."
Your mouth hangs open, ears dropping—assuming that he's hurt—blaming yourself for it. “I don't hate you—”
“Then what is it?”
The expression that crashes on your face is nothing short of sweet, pupils blown as you realise your situation. Your face grows hotter by the second, chewing your lower lip in contemplation.
There it is.
His touch leaves you, suddenly being hit with a cold rush. “Hmm, guess you won't tell me. I can't force you,” he mumbles, stepping back when you reach for him, fingers enveloping his wrist.
A pause. Your mouth agape, hesitant before desperation kicks in.
“Touch me…! It feels awful, Min—” you relent, crying out. Brows pinched together.
“Touch you?” he repeats, feigning innocence. “How?”
Tears form in the corner of your eyes, humiliation setting in. “Fuck me. Breed me—it burns. Need your help.”
He's surprised, not expecting this much honesty. Though, it morphs in smugness in seconds, blood rushing into his stiffening dick. His grin widens, snaking his arms underneath your thighs, palms finding your ass as he lifts you up. “How can I refuse when you ask so intently, kitten.” he keens, pecking your lips so cutely. Almost innocent.
You're in the bedroom before you know it, your back hits the mattress with a bounce. He sits at the edge, observing. “You know,” he trails, “I've been wondering when this would happen. If it would.”
You gulp, figuring the meaning behind his words. Your gaze follows him to the closet, he comes back with a box. It is carefully closed, no chance of peeking inside. Curious gaze shooting at him. “Don't worry about it,” he assures; crawling his way back to you. “I’ll take good care of you, kitten.”
His words have the hair on your nape rising, your body burns with desire. He pulls your shirt off, baring your chest to him. Licking his lips as he swipes a thumb over your pebbled nipple, your reaction dragging. Oversensitive from the torturous heat that spreads across your senses. Nerves spiking, squirming prettily just from him wrapping his lips around the skin of your tits, leaving trails of saliva in its wake.
Your fingers sweep through his locks, sharp nails grazing his scalp. He groans against your tits, hands kneading on the flesh of your contracting stomach, breathing heavily under him. “It must hurt so bad,” he mumbles, kissing the side of your hip, teeth nibbling on the supple skin. Eyes unleaving your dainty face, your expression fueling his arousal.
He scoots up, face above yours as he pampers you with kisses, lips anywhere but your pouting mouth. His hold on your hips is firm, bringing you closer to him with a tug. Warm pussy meeting his clothed thigh, wetting the fabric merely from a brush. He curses under his breath, nearly cumming at the sight of your stickiness flowing past your labia. “Look at that,” he rasps, the sound coming out as painful with how bad he just wants to give in and shove it deep inside already. Pussy practically calling out for him.
His patience wears thin, but he holds onto the thread. Lips above yours when he speaks, “Why didn't you tell me sooner? I'm such a bad owner,” he presses down, lips smacking with yours adoringly. “Letting my baby walk around like this, in pain and silently begging for me to stuff her full.” He kisses you again, this time feverishly, tongue swiping over your wet lips, drinking the drool threatening to spill.
He takes the opportunity of your distraction, grinding you down the muscle of his thigh, the fabric roughly rubbing on your clit. The noise that leaves you is pornographic, whimpers muffled by his working mouth. You buck your hips against him when he flexes his thigh, unknowingly rubbing your leg on his tent, earning heavy pants from him. His fingers wrap around your wrist, gliding your hand to his erection, palm feeling him through the cloth. “You’re making me so hard, want to fuck you so bad. Give you all my babies, that’s what you want? Ah—” he moans when you grasp him eagerly, testing the weight of what he has to offer. His voice is so breathy and soft, working his knee on your pussy, causing a mess everywhere.
You nod, almost drooling at the wet patch that smears where you’re touching him, staring in a daze. Cock the only thing on your mind, and he hasn't given you any yet. “Please…” you plea when he lets go of your hand, taking the opportunity to get rid of his shirt, the cotton clinging to his skin with this heat. “Please what?” he asks in a murmur, tone taunting. He can’t help the tingle that runs down his spine when you graze his chest with your sharp claws, doing a poor job at retracting them in this state.
Your soft lashes flutter at him, arms welcoming his neck into an embrace, fingers digging in his hair affectionately. You snuzzle your nose in the dip of his shoulder, unable to look at him for long; dubious of the kind of reaction it would elicit from you. “Please, I need you… need your cock, your babies. All of you, Min…”
He melts in your touch, chest bare—pressed to yours to the point of feeling your hammering heartbeat. “Yeah? All of me?” he repeats, you can hear the grin on his face. “Is that what she also wants?” his thumb finds your clit, running a slow circle on the hood, teasing it. You swallow, breath sucking in when he kisses over your shoulder while parting you open with two fingers, cold air hitting your bare cunt. “Tell me, kitten.” he orders, landing a small slap on your clit, jolting you awake.
“Mgh—!” you moan out, his fingers prodding at your entrance, unsatisfied with your hesitation. Entering you sharply with no warning, drawing out the shakiest whimper you’ve been holding in. A warning. “Yes—! She also wants it, this pussy wants it. Please, I’m sorry.”
You’re so sensitive, much more sensitive than usual. He can tell with how you’re trashing and crying, squirming nonsensically from his fingers alone, eyes tightly shut. He’s never been harder. He curls his fingers, holding your movements down with his body weight, pressing you onto the mattress. He’s slipping in with no intrusion, slickness coating his digit with obscene wet sounds. He grinds against your thigh subconsciously, getting himself off in the process. “Shit. You gon’ cum, jagi?” he mocks, walls clenching hard. Enveloping his fingers like a vice. Working to keep you open, “So fucking tight.” he muses when you gush everywhere, your fluids dripping down his wrist sinfully. He stares, your body going limp. And yet, pussy still spasming, begging for more cause it’s not enough. It never is. He smiles, pulling back. Your chest heaves heavily, eyes flicking open. He’s half-lidded, gaze holding a heat matching yours. Smug when he brings his fingers to his lips, swallowing them in his mouth, sucking and licking at your arousal. Not leaving a drop out of sight, forcing you to hold eye contact while he does so. How you swallow doesn’t escape him—how your expression holds a plea for more. You need more.
He rolls his pants down while you’re entranced, riding off your high. A fuzz behind your eyelids traveling in your blood, raising your pulse. Getting knocked out of it when something heavy taps against your clit. His arms lay on either side of you, nose brushing yours. His bangs tickle your skin when he rolls his hips forward, wetting his cock with your slick. Earning the quietest whimpers from your throat. His teasing has your brows furrowing, basking in your growing frustration.
He hums, taking in your expression. “Hmm, this won't do.”
Your eyes shoot open at his words, and what he could mean by that. Worry sinks in, in case of denial. But you don't have time to think much before he takes a hold of your hips, rolling your bodies with such ease until you’re straddling him, holding onto his shoulders for support. “Show me how much you want it. Come on, fuck yourself on it.”
Your lips press thin, usually being the one on the lying side. He tuts at you, leaning back on the headboard, jerking his head in a way that showcases the bob of his Adam Apple. His tasty neck. Your mouth runs dry. “Weren't you just begging for it? Can't do that much? Should we stop?”
You shake your head rapidly, rushing to get a hold of his heavy length. You hold it under your entrance, prodding it inside, fumbling a few times and he sighs—turning into an exhale of relief when you finally sink down on him. His fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips. “Fuuckk, just like that.” He hisses, finding the back of your head, pushing your face into his neck. “I know it hurts, baby. Go ahead, bite down.” He says, absently scratching the sensitive spot beneath your twitching ear.
You whine, tears coaxing at the corners of your lids from the burning stretch plus your arousal, the knot in your stomach finally getting relieved as you graze your sharp teeth on his skin. Drawing some blood with your fangs, rough tongue hoping to ease the pain by swiping over the droplets but only adding to it. He however riles up in it, cock throbbing inside at the harsh scrap of your tongue on the wound. He could cum like this. Grasping every ounce of self control in himself to pull your head back using the grip on your hair. Your tongue peeking out, a string of saliva disconnecting from his neck. You look so dumbed out, and you haven't even started bouncing on it yet. That's gon’ be a problem.
You shriek when he abruptly thrusts up, filling you to the brim. His balls slap against your cunt. Lashes fluttering shut, immediately biting onto your lower lip but he's having none of that—index and thumb digs in your cheeks, forcing your mouth open, drawing out the cutest mewls from your throat while ramming into you. One hand on your hips guiding your pace as he forces you to jump on it, tits dangling in his face.
You writhe, trying to shake the overwhelming pleasure off when you feel an orgasm approaching way too quickly. Whining and begging for him to slow down, when really, that's the last thing you want. And he knows it. Quickening his pace, nearly slipping out from how much you're wetting him. “Come on, you're going to cum from a few thrusts alone? Do it. Do it, jagi. Soak my cock, yeah?”
This tips you over, the glass shattering as you gasp. Pussy tightening so hard that he moans right in your ear, pushing your orgasm further. He barely lets you settle and relax, throwing you back onto the bed, sheathing back in easily. You're full once again, feeling him at the back of your throat. You sob, glassy eyes blurring your vision. You don't notice when he opens that box, nor rummages through it. Realizing when you hear a sudden buzz, then you feel it on you.
“Ohh..! Mghm—!” you squirm, a vibration hitting your clit, echoing on every nerve in your body. “Minho—ah!” you cry out, and he twitches. The sound of his name leaving in your mouth in a whimper. He leans forward, releasing a glob of saliva in your open mouth. Smirking when you swallow without thinking twice.
A rush of his own courses on his body, settling in his legs as he feels his high approaching, cock surging forward sinfully with obscene loud slaps. Flap flap flap, is all you hear along with the low buzzing. He's throbbing hard, balls begging to tighten. “Gonna cum. Gonna cum and give you exactly what you want,” he grunts, his voice angelic despite the roughness adorning it. “And then… I'll do it again, and again till you can't take any more drops. You'd like that? Hm? Answer me, kitten.” He taunts, landing a small slap on your cheek to wake you up.
“Hmmp—! Yes!” you nod feverishly, jaw hanging agape. He sighs contentedly, mouth finding the skin on your shoulder when he grows more erratic. Moaning right into your sensitive ears, the noises traveling straight to your pussy. Walls spasming and trapping him in snuggly.
He curses, his hips stuttering once, twice. Thrice as he releases inside. Digging crescent into your skin, muffling his loudest moan with a kiss to your neck. He pulls out, and you think it's over. Taking his threat lightly. Mistake.
He turns you around, mushing your face in the pillows, ass perked up nicely for him. Fingers run over your lips before thrusting down your hole. You grip the sheets, subconsciously wiggling in his hold. His cum oozes around his fingers, his cock jolting back to life.
There's some rustlings, and something cool slides on your skin, running to your ass. The pad of his thumb smudges you with it, trailing down till he reaches your tiny hole. He presses on it. You do your best to try to look back, trashing your limp body and failing to do so. “No..! Not here—” you whine but it draws to a moan when he pushes in, the sensation foreign.
“Shut up,” he rasps, the pain lingering for a second before turning into something else. Chuckling when you keen towards it instead, body so weak that he spreads your asshole open easily. “Touch your clit,” he commands. Such a good girl of you to obey, trembling fingers snaking under your stomach to your nub, tracing small circles on it. He massages your rear, a reassurance for what's to come as he removes his thumb from you. Something freezing and metallic replacing it. You're not sure what it is. But you have an idea when more lube is squeezed on top.
“It'll hurt,” he warns, kind enough to take his time to push it in. Feels so full. In an uncomfortable way, the plug stuffing you in a manner you hadn't dreamed of before. He's already hard. Tip leaking with precum at the visual of the plug disappearing in your tight hole, your tail curling around nothing. He just has to grab it, using it to arch your back, exposing your pretty pussy to him. You squeal when he tugs on it, not enough to hurt but hard enough to make you ache. Relieving the emptiness in your cunt when he aligns himself, sliding right back in with an exhale. Creamy on him.
He doesn't give you a moment to adjust, picking up right where he left off. Heavy pants leaving his mouth. “So good, you're so good to me.” he praises, pinning his chest to your back. The plug rubs against his cock within the thin wall separating your holes. Using your tail to angle his hips to hit right into that sweet spot that has you sobbing in the sheets.
He laughs when you try to reach for him, hands flailing behind you. Wrapping a hand on your throat, fingers blocking your air passage when he heaves you up with him. Supporting yourself on your knees with your body slack on him. You hold his arm, clinging to any sort of emotional support. Clinging to any hint of love when he's being so rough to you.
He picks on to your reaction, brows knitting in light confusion. “What's wrong?” he breathes next to your perked ear, hot air fanning on its sensitivity. He loosens his grip on your throat, letting you catch a whiff of oxygen. “Min…” you speak, voice hitching with your cries. “K-kiss me. Please?” your tone is so loving, so desperate for his affection.
He scoffs, concern transforming into cruelty. He laughs, tilting your head to face him. “Hah—want me to kiss you?” he sneers, his hips snap against your ass, dragging in tentatively. “Do kitties in heat deserve to be kissed?”
“Right,” he recalls. “You want all of me. Hm? Want my lips?” he whispers, playing with the plump of your lips with his digits, smearing your mixed fluid like a lip gloss.
Your lips pucker so sweetly, soft and inviting. Your poor attempts at inching closer to his face amuses him, knowing that he's got the upper hand. “Cat got your tongue? Answer.”
Your broken sob has his heart tightening. He knows he's being mean, denying you like this. But it's hard not to when your tears have him rutting into you as if he was the one in heat. Picking the vibrator, opting for the highest settings when it lands right on your overstimulated clit. Your thighs shake violently, unable to hold on. Lips quivering, distracted as he finally gives you what you want. His lips are flimsy on yours, his hold on your neck and body the sole things keeping you up. Tongue licks at your teeth, urging you to open wider. Wet warmth fills your mouth, the muscle circling yours, causing a drooling mass all over your chin. He's half lidded eyes taking in your squeezed shut ones.
He plows your back, tip leaking inside—matching the constant flutter of your walls. Growing faster, more needy by the seconds when you suddenly see white, tears spilling past your cheeks when you crash down. Spilling everywhere. Wetting him, the bed and yourself.
“Oh—” he moans out, loud. His face scrunching in pleasure, whimpers flying to your mouth when he comes once again. Spurting ropes of hot cum inside of you, filling you to the brim with how much he's releasing. Spoiling you. “Fuck…” you're still going, the mixture of arousal pooling below your thighs. Pulling out at last, breathing heavily as you go flaccid, flopping onto the mattress with no energy.
He shifts you over to lie on your back, wiping off the hair that's sticking to your face. “You alive?” he questions, standing above you. You nod meekly, barely conscious. “Hmm…” he hums, kissing the top of your head. “Satisfied?”
“Hmhm..” you reply, all that you can muster.
He smiles, rubbing your cheek so kindly when his eyes trail over your body to your leaking cunt. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, thinking. Desire firing up in his guts, “Yeah? Because…” he leans forward, presses feathery pecks on your glistening skin. Rising goosebumps. “I don't think I am yet.”
cw:harddom!chan, porn without plot, implied multiple rounds, choking, mouth spiting, manhandling yk all the good ole stuff, "chris" is just rougher than "chan" idk how to explain it.
wc:0.4k
"chris?" you stutter a little, a bit surprised when your boyfriend folds you like an origami again. your body spent, aching. his cock still hard and aching for you even when he just came.
chris just hums. You realise that he's really deep in his quiet, dom space when his gaze changes, his eyes darkening. You don't know how to explain it. theres just something different with the way hes looking at you now.
I'm gonna have you," he replies, strong arms pulling you by the waist, impaling you deeper, making you gasp as your legs flail a little. "Just like this, gonna have you just like this."
And he starts. Hard and fast. No build up.
all you hear is the loud slapping and the creaking bed beneath you, sounding just as tired as you from all the rounds you got. your cunt and sheets under you drowned in fluids, but you can only concentrate on the pleasure and the overstimulation in your core.
"This, fuck," he says in between heaving breaths. "This is what you deserve."
"Pounded."
"Bred."
"This pussy. Mine."
He continues his hard pounding, hips relentless, not stopping even for a second.
when chan is in his dom space, its like everything blanks. the only thing he can do is chase his and your pleasure and the only thing he reacts to is your safe word.
but will you ever use it?
no, definitely not. not when he looks so sexy above you. all groans and grunts. his torso dripping with sweat. his hand resting on your throat. squeezing, possessive.
"ohhh fuck—so big chris"
"Take it."
"Ngh, big-"
"Big 'cus it's made for you. Small cunt."
He shuts you up by spitting in your gaping mouth.
"m'gonna cum inside, and you're gonna take it like a good girl" he groans. hips stuttering just a little before he spills inside. making an even bigger mess.
merely a minute later, he flips you around, putting you on all fours before inserting himself into you again.
oh you're in for a long night, and you're not complaining (but your bed definitely is)
a/n:hope you enjoyed if you made it to the end you freaks!! likes and reblogs are super appreciated :)
