maria’s note: all the fanfics listed below contain explicit scenes, so MDNI! these authors are all incredibly talented writers whom I’ve always admired, so don’t forget to show them plenty of love!! 🤍
canvas by @esstxys
so sweet by @jektaev
one more round by @jektaev
the monarchs’ quarrel by @deadpanjisung
lazy fucks with hyunjin by @hyunjinnieisms
diet pepsi by @hyunjinnieisms
cigarettes & feelings by @chxrryangel
baby fever by @hwanghhjinie
hjartað mitt by @jeonginsleftcheek
sharp edges (7 parts) by @straywrds
just stay with me by @straywrds
i only see you (2 parts and sequel to “just stay with me”) by @straywrds
pretty when you say it by @straywrds
teachers’ lounge by @straywrds
bem chem by @hyunjincanraptoo
la petite mort by @skzfflovers
hyunjin is needy by @elylyyy
you snap first! by @emmiesoverthemoon
devil-may-care by @emmiesoverthemoon
rain by @fenya-scribbles
masterpiece by @chvnnie
skin against the glass by @hyunniesamericano
tied and taken by @hyunniesamericano
kisses by @hyunniesamericano
trophy husband (12 parts) by @imfoive
just my type by @stryscribbles
no music, just you by @joyracha
summertime rendering by @channlust
meddle about by @lynsbng
sketch practice by @ghostlyscripture
no nut november by @skzophreniic
lesson plan by @skzophreniic
hunger by @seospicybin
not your toy by @seospicybin
dial tone desire by @starlostjisung
I’M IN LOVE WITH THOSE AUTHORS SO PLS SHOW THEM SUPPORT AND LOVE, THEY’RE AMAZING 🤍🫶🏻
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 | be aware my content has mature/nsfw themes. minors please do not interact! all my works are fictional & my own ideas. they do not represent how i view/think/feel about skz
BANG CHAN
⤷ all works regarding chan in the link above
LEE MINHO
⤷ all works regarding minho in the link above
SEO CHANGBIN
⤷ all works regarding changbin in the link above
HWANG HYUNJIN
⤷ all works regarding hyunjin in the link above
HAN JISUNG
⤷ all works regarding jisung in the link above
LEE FELIX
⤷ all works regarding felix in the link above
KIM SEUNGMIN
⤷ all works regarding seungmin in the link above
YANG JEONGIN
⤷ all works regarding jeongin in the link above
OT8
⤷ all works regarding ot8 in the link above
EVENTS
⤷ all works regarding events in the link above
FAKE TEXTS
⤷ all works regarding ot8 fake texts in the link above
chan loves thinking about you at the gym. not necessarily in a sexual way, though, it happens when he's missing you and his mind wanders.
no, not now though. because now like often, chan sits on the bench under the bar of the rack, listening to the airpod in one ear and changbin's distant grunts in the other. but all he can think of is you, and he smiles up at his reflection in the ceiling's mirror like a dork. her dork, he thinks to himself as a dimple makes its presence known.
he worked himself until failure through his sets, fueled on thinking about going home and having dinner with you. you were pretty particular about being in the kitchen alone, and chan would always sneak his way around you and wrap his arms around your waist, nuzzling his nose into your neck and pressing popcorn kisses into your skin.
he admires his arms in the mirror above, and for once, he doesn't scrutinize himself. you love his arms and how strong they hold you, and for him in this moment, that's enough.
his shoulders ache, and he knows you'll make him lie down on his stomach and declare that the masseuse is ready for her favorite customer. he'll snort a laugh into the pillow on his head, heart filled to the brim. you'll smack his bum and tell him he's said far more corny things.
there's redness in his skin where the bar was pressed into him. just a testament to his growth.
he lays there, and the song changes in his ear, causing him to raise his phone. and like clockwork, he sees you messaged him about a minute ago. your heart's long for each other even in distance. you asked him when he's coming home so you can start cooking, sending him a picture of the spread of ingredients on the kitchen island.
chan closes his eyes for a moment, a stupid grin on his face. maybe it's late at night. maybe he's still running off his rapidly beating heart. but he swears, he's never been more smitten in his life.
so, in turn, he directs the phone camera to the ceiling mirror, snapping a picture for you in feigned nonchalance and sending it to you. he only has to wait for a moment before he's laughing at the GIF you send, a wolf howling to the moon. cheeky little thing. you send a slew of "my handsome guy" and "come home quick, big boy" and it makes him sigh softly in the blissful feeling that washes over him. bashful. you're spamming him with niceties and he can't wait to get home and tackle you in a fit of cuddles like a clingy koala.
you'll fake-complain that he's sweaty and gross, and he'll mock you in a high pitched voice as he tickles his hands up your shirt... his shirt, to be exact. gosh, he loves you.
"ya, changbin... are you almost done?"
the sound of a dumbbell dropping on the matted floor echoes, and changbin's head is raised from the corner of the desolate gym. he already knows that lovesick look in chan's eyes. it's impossible to not have it down by now. changbin just fights a smirk and nods, to chan's secret joy.
there you go again on the phone. disarming him. not distracting him, but fueling him. chan grunts as he sits upright, triple checking his message thread with you before sending a final message. there isn't much to say, he'll hold you and caress you as he whispers the finer lines at home.
'i'm coming home now sweetheart. get started on dinner before i kick you out of the kitchen'
OR — how chan’s heart is a moment away from bursting after seeing how his boys appreciate you as much as he does.
boyfriend!chan x girlfriend!reader
word count: 2.4k
content: very fluffy, established relationship, chan admiring reader, alcohol, a little dinner party with mentions of food, our chaotic stray kids messing around, reader and chan compliment each other so well, the kids absolutely think reader is chan's true soulmate, reader drinks some wine and eats some meat, a LOT of chan worshipping the reader.
author’s note: chan and his boys… ough my heart :’) a lovely anon requested this one, i hope you enjoy!
—
Oh, how Chan loves how you love. And he loves how love tends to gravitate around you and settle like fog. More specifically— he loves how his boys love you.
If you’d thought Chan was the coolest person when you met him, his rambling about how he was a producer and singer (“of sorts”, he’d added, to test you)? You were the coolest person in his eyes.
He can’t lie, he put you on a pedestal at first. All your achievements you wore with humble pride, you were a little go-getter. The whole package— intelligent in both well rounded knowledge and your emotions, a barrel of laughs, and you were drop dead gorgeous?
Chan felt honestly sorry for anyone who didn’t have you in their life.
It was natural that you’d fit into his chaotic and unique life, symbiotic. You cooled him down and he amped you up. Chan wasn’t a lone deal, though. He came equipped with the accoutrements of seven boys he called his Kids.
It’s Chan’s favorite kind of night tonight. He so affectionately calls it “family game night”.
What started as the safety net of a small world of men saw a new face. Chan eased you into his life instead of thrusting you into the deep end. The boys were special to him as well. He’d hoped you loved them, saw how each of them was special. As he’d seen you in that same soft light.
Sometimes, however, the glow just becomes one big warmth. Like the present moment he’s in, watching you with a bottle of wine in his hand that he’s trying to open as you play a drinking card game with changbin and han. A collective thrum of energy.
The room sounds like Chan’s favorite sounds that he can never quite replicate in song.
Your unashamed laughter. Changbin and Han screaming at each other as they throw down cards. Hyunjin coming back from the bathroom and quickly plugging his ears to scold them under his breath. Lee Know drapes himself on the sofa behind you and asks you how to play the game, softer tone than the rest of the room.
Seungmin, Felix, and I.N. are cackling like hyenas in the kitchen, the soft sizzle of food being cooked combined with an aroma of spice.
A shot glass slam. The holler of voices. This is how it should be all the time.
Chan finally pops the cork, bottle between his legs before he pours himself a glass. No, scratch that… not for himself. He’s a lightweight— he wants to remember this moment like the rest of his dreamscapes. Chan pours a glass and leans back in the chair at the table, downturned lips of a smile appearing as he sees you hand your cards to Lee Know and explain the rules of the card game.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d think there was a halo around you head.
Changbin tries to peak around your shoulder to see Lee Know’s cards, and you hiss, scolding Changbin who lets out a ripple of laughter as you cover his eyes.
Hyunjin points and laughs, high fiving you.
“Dinner’s ready!” Seungmin comes out of the kitchen where Felix comes out looking a bit like a mess, his hair frazzled. I.N. is grinning from ear to ear, calming his laughter down. Seungmin says your name to beckon your attention. “I made some meats without the sesame oil because you don’t like it.”
You’d said that offhandedly at last dinner. In fact, you hadn’t even spoken it directly to Seungmin. The fact that he noticed that makes a smile flourish on you.
“Aw man, you didn’t have to!” You dust your hands off on your jeans as you rise from the floor. The boys follow suit. They don’t know why, but no one ever really eats before you fix your plate up. A silent rule they just made themselves.
Chan doesn’t stand up as the boys file into the kitchen, clamoring about how good it smells and “ladies first” rules. In fact, when the boys are gone, he locks eyes with you. Soft and tender. Arms outstretched and knowing you’d come into them.
You find him like a magnet, standing between his legs, and his hand clasps around your wrist, tugging you onto his lap, where you laugh softly, arms snaking around his neck.
He hands you the wine glass he poured out prior. Claret. He knows you, and you take it as he thought. Watches your lips around the glass and how your pupils are all big and beautiful in your eyes. Like you’re drunk on love.
“What good deeds did I do in my past life to get this sight tonight…? Mm?” he whispers with a small smile, his lips coming under your jawline and drawing back. You’d think it was the rambling of a drunk man. But he’s as serious and sober as the plague.
His hand comes down to stroke your leg, the other cradling your torso against him.
“Maybe it’s cause you’re just so perfect in the present. Ever think about that?” you chide softly, tucking your head into his shoulder. The hand on your torso comes up to your hair, stroking with soft pets. Your words are wrapped in ribbon that reads, you deserve good. You are good.
“Mm… you tired of the boys? I need to straighten them out?”
You snort and shake your head. “I think they’re tired of me after teaching them that stupid card game.”
Chan hiccups a laugh out, his shoulders shaking. There’s a poignant pause before he resumes talking, His hand on your thigh sweeping softly and slow.
“They love you so much. Ask about you all the damn time… how you’re doing, when you’re coming over. Bit clingy if you ask me,” Chan grumbles that last part out, keeping his hold tight on you. You just press a placating kiss to his cheek and breathe against his skin.
You can already imagine it. Hell, sometimes if you sneak a look at Chan’s upturned phone, you can see the building up of messages from the Kids asking to see you as well. It started out with them being a little shy, almost wary of you. How did you manage to cut through all of their leader's reserves and walls? How does he manage to sleep at 1 AM instead of pulling all nighters now? Did you have ulterior motives, would you be good enough for the person who practically raised them alongside himself.
It took them meeting you once in person over a light affair of Korean barbecue and you were stamped with a mark of approval. The boys saw it in the way you talked about goals and aspirations. The way you carried yourself, your kindness and understanding. You’d only laughed when Felix accidentally burned you a bit with his tongs (though Chan had been the scolding one on your behalf).
Most of all, you talked about Chan in such a way that made them feel soft and mushy, a way they’d tease to Chan behind closed doors. You’d said your favorite thing about Chan was his smile. A bit cheesy, but it was easy to see why— their leader truly never stopped smiling in your presence.
Whether it was a teasing grin, wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes, or gazing upon you with lips so softly upturned you could almost miss it. Like he couldn’t get enough of you.
They noticed you called him “Chris” when greeting and parting from him with a kiss. “Chan” when recounting a story or laughing at his jokes. “Channie” when you felt comfortable in his presence and let him take the lead.
You made sure he ate and drank water. You let him be clingy and drop his weight against your side so you could baby him. Chan had put a cut of his meat on your plate, to which the Kids watched you both have a back and forth war of who deserved it more. Your chopsticks dropped the meat back onto his plate before he flicked your nose and set it back to you.
They saw that not only were you Chan’s priority, but Chan was also yours.
And all their worries simmered down.
The soft laughter and sounds of the boys piling food on without you and Chan is comforting. Hyunjin’s mumbled words about "still waiting for you" and Lee Know saying something about you not minding makes Chan’s dimples come through in his smile. Those Kids...
“Go get a plate. I’ll be there soon,” Chan softly utters as he takes the wine glass from your hand and places it back on the table. You shake your head and let your shoulders droop.
“You’ve been a stoic all night… Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
Chan deflates a bit. Shoulders relaxing. While he’d tried to play off his reserved nature tonight as “taking a breather”, you saw right through it. He pinches the tip of your nose and you groan.
“Just wanted to watch. You handle them so well without me now. You're so adorable, you know that?”
“Duh— they’re grown-ass adults, not children.”
Chan huffs and raises a brow before shaking his head, his arms around your waist tightening.
“What I mean is that you fit right in. Not just with me, but… them. Like you were meant to be there. You fit into my life,” Chan stops his speaking for a moment and begins through his next words.
“I mean, even if they didn’t like you, which is impossible because look at you, I’d still be with you… But the Kids mean the world to me, too. And knowing that they see how special you are in the same way I do just… I can’t explain it…”
You let a moment go by, his eyes cast down to your lap as his thumb sweeps back and forth over the seam of your jeans. With a hum, you reply.
“You don’t have to explain it.”
A smile breaks out on Chan’s face. “There you go being so damn understanding. What are we going to do with you, huh?” He squeezed your sides and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek as you let out laughter.
—
“The food’ll be cold by the time they’re done. Can we just start without them?”
“Give it a minute. They haven’t seen each other in like… five days.”
“I think it’s sweet—“
“Of course you do, Hyunjin.”
The boys are sitting patiently at the dining table on the outside patio, plates and dishes of food laid out amongst them. They saved yours and Chan’s seats across from each other. Seungmin peaks his head to the drawn curtains of the sliding glass door, just barely able to see the silhouette of you and Chan together.
“They’re like a married couple,” Seungmin muses, pushing around his untouched plate. Lee Know twists the cap off of a Soju bottle and shakes his head. “They should just be married already,” he grins back, with all of the boys in agreement.
Chan would wear domesticity well. They know that’s what he needs right now.
“I know we say it all the time, but I’m… really happy for them. They’re good for each other and to each other,” I.N. says from across the table next to Changbin. “Noona was made for him, you know?”
“Maybe Chan was made for her—“
“Who made what?”
Their talking dies down as you walk through the door to the patio behind Chan, holding pinkies. Felix is visibly pouting at the sight, he can barely handle it. At Chan’s prompted question, Han speaks up first.
“We made dinner, remember? Someone’s getting old. Both of you, grab a plate!”
Chan gives Han a light smack on the backside of his head, and makes you a plate of food first. All of the boys just knew he’d do that. You smile and thank Chan, and he gives you a kiss on the top of your head. It all smells so amazing, you give your compliments to the three boys who worked primarily on it.
Finally, they all allow themselves to eat, the sound of utensils on plates, bottles and glass touching each other and on the wood surface.
And under the table? Chan’s got his hand on your leg, squeezing lightly every so often, just to ground himself. To know that what he’s seeing with your interactions is all real and that this hasn’t been some dream he’s sleeping through. Chan is a simple man. This is all he wants.
You look beside you to find Chan already looking at you. Your brows furrow and he shakes his head, tapping the tip of your nose before propping his head in his hand.
“I’m going to have the best sleep tonight,” he breathes out, eyes shimmery with joy. Changbin must’ve picked up on his words for you, as he points and loudly questions, “Sleep? You’re hanging out with us and you’re talking about sleep?!”
“She gets him to sleep all the time, Bin. She’s like a magician,” Hyunjin snorts before taking a swig of his drink.
Chan rolls his eyes and shows some teeth with a smile. You’re smiling down at your plate, unable to handle the compliments. After all, in your mind, you’re just being a regular girlfriend. Making sure he eats and sleeps, huh? If only you knew how hard it was for the Kids to get Chan to even take a minute of a break.
His hand comes around behind you, holding onto the backrest of your seat as the boys continue to talk to each other. Chan’s whispering comes close to your ear.
“My little magician, huh? That’s a new one… I think my favorite one they called you was my “miracle worker”. Has a nice ring.”
You huff a laugh and before you can turn your head to look his way? He’s planting a firm kiss on your lips that makes Seungmin gag as he fell witness to it. The rest of the boys dramatically follow suit. Chan pulls from your skin and feigns scolding to them all as you burst into laughter.
The Kids don’t mind at all, on the contrary. This look of love is good on Chan. Like there’d been something missing from their leader. They can see it clear as day when he kisses you, that this is where he’s meant to be. Where you’re meant to be.
They won’t let anything come between you and Chan. Not only do they love Chan, but you as well. And they love you two together.
reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors and their incredible work, thank you and enjoy ;) ♡ ྀི
Note: each rec list has/will have 15-20ish fics where you´ll only find fics that i keep on re-reading bc they´re that good, from the writing style to the plot to being exactly what i needed when i found them, they´ll forever hold a place in my heart.
3rd gen
♡ BTS
jeon jungkook pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3
mixed members pt. 1
♡ SEVENTEEN
mixed members pt. 1 - pt. 2
♡ MONSTA X (soon)
♡ NCT 127 / DREAM / WAY V (soon)
4th gen
♡ ATEEZ
mixed members pt. 1
♡ TXT (tomorrow x together)
mixed members pt. 1
♡ ENHYPEN
mixed members pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6 - pt. 7
ot7 pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3
sim jaeyun (jake) pt. 1
park sunghoon pt. 1 - pt. 2
nishimura riki (ni-ki) pt. 1 - pt. 2
park jongseong (jay) pt. 1
lee heeseung pt. 1
yang jungwon pt. 1
♡ STRAY KIDS
mixed members pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6
· ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations
pls reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors!❤️
such a nice guy - ( @bambizeld ) smut, perv roomie!jeongin. "Jeongin, who prays religiously to God for blessing his gratuitous life, that you both share a bathroom" LMAOOOO, why is he like that
only yours - ( @lovecase ) fluff, angst, hurt/comfort. idol!ot8 x gf!reader. "the world has a way of trying to make you feel small. but no matter what it is, they'll always remind you (and everyone else) that in their eyes, you're the furthest thing from "average." this is so :((((( i LOVE IT, so cute and so sad at the same time
secretly a freak - ( @jj-one ) smut, freakbob acting out. "“stop hovering, i said sit.” !!!!! RIGHT HERE, OFFICER
caught crying after giving head - ( @jj-one ) smut, fluff, college au, loser virgin nerd!han (YUHHH) x popular!reader, THEE BEST NERD!HAN SERIES OUT THERE, TRUSTT!!!, when you´re done read THIS, THIS, THISSSS AND THIS ONE TOO
work, doll - ( @chanifesto ) smut, handyman neighbour!hyunjin x fem!reader. THAT ONE VIDEO OF HIM AND CHANGBIN FIXING SHIT ON THAT APT DOES SOMETHING TO ME! that´s a whole man fr UGHHHH, this is so goooood
you talk in your sleep - ( @undiagnosedcruelty ) fluff, bf!jisung. reader talks in her sleep and calls him a loser lmaooo, not him crashing out
the secret hwang - ( @hanniebaeee ) angst, fluff, crack, second chance rom, idol!hyunjin, pregnant staff!reader, yess gawddd, we love an angsty fic, also, not felix and lino fighting for who´s the fake daddy 🥴
flowers - ( @bandgie ) smut, pussy-creazed!hyunjin (!!!) x gf!reader. "hyunjin invented pussy worship" IKTR. not him painting flowers based on his gf keWCHIE AND POSTING IT I- he´s so romantic
like father, like son - ( @linoxpudding ) fluff, crack, dad!lee know, mom!reader, married with kids au. not minho´s son fighting at school and him being proud, such a him thing to do lmao
dimple - ( @forlix ) fluff, crack, implied sex, crack. frat pres!chan, fuckboy!chan turned doting, college au. sooo chan is a fuckboy and nobody believes he´s acc dating somebody sdjslj this is so cute and fun
unexpected pregnancy - ( @skzophreniic) fluff, lowk angst, very suggestive, idol!chris, pregnancy trope, father-to-be!chris. this one´s so cute and so real tbh, i feel like this would deff be how he would handle the situation. also, him liking the whole pregnant wife look is canon idc
inexperienced - ( @seungisms ) smut, inexperienced!jeongin x experienced!reader. "jeongin has a big dick but doesn´t know how to use it" I BELIVE THIS WITH MY WHOLE CHEST. this was gewd af, i love me a loser bf
push me further, pull me closer - ( @cattolino ) smut, fwb, idol!chan x mua!reader. nottt felix trying to be cupid lmao, i feel like this is something that could be happening at jyp building rn, ik that man is nAWT single
she said she was virgin on vc - ( @jj-one ) smut, virgin gamer!jeongin x gamer f!reader, fake enemies to lovers. THIS IS SOOO !!!!!!!!! my gawddddd, loser virgin gamer i.n stans ASSAMBLE
lamborghini car keys - ( @jj-one ) smut, car sex, idol!bin. CHANGBIN WITH A FUKCING LAMBO ISTG I- dont EVER let that man near me i might just get him prEGNANT. the visulas i got from this JESUSCHRISTTTT, not the tight button up with the slicked back hair lawwdddddd and he´s smooth with it too sTOP
You walk into Chan’s room late at night to drop off something he forgot, only to find him deeply asleep, flushed, breathing unevenly, and clearly caught in the middle of an extremely vivid wet dream—his hips twitching, soft moans slipping past his lips, and an obvious, straining bulge tenting his sweatpants. As his longtime friend who’s always secretly wanted more, you convince yourself it would be cruel to leave him like this… so you decide to “help” while he’s still lost in sleep.
۶ৎ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬:
somnophilia (non-con/dub-con elements due to him being asleep), handjob, oral (reader giving), Chan waking up mid-act, mutual pining that finally snaps, soft-turned-rough sex, praise, slight possessiveness from Chan once he’s awake, creampie. 18+ only.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
The door to Chan’s room is already cracked open when you arrive, probably from him airing out the stuffy space earlier. You only meant to slip the charger onto his desk and leave, he’d been complaining about his phone dying mid-session all day.
But the second you step inside, the air feels different. Thicker. Warmer.
He’s sprawled on his back across the bed, sheets kicked down to his thighs, black tank riding up to expose the hard cut of his abs. His chest rises and falls too fast for regular sleep. A thin sheen of sweat glistens along his collarbones. And between his spread legs…
God.
The gray sweatpants do nothing to hide how hard he is, thick, heavy outline pressing insistently against the fabric, a dark wet spot already blooming at the tip. His hips give these tiny, helpless rolls every few seconds like he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach. A low, broken whimper escapes him.
“Fuck… please…”
Your name.
He’s moaning your name.
Your stomach flips so violently you almost drop the charger.
You should leave. You know you should leave.
But your feet won’t move.
Another soft, needy sound spills from his throat. His hand twitches like he wants to touch himself but can’t quite wake up enough to do it. The wet patch spreads.
You swallow hard.
What kind of friend would you be if you just… walked away and left him aching like this?
You set the charger down silently. Step closer.
His lashes flutter but don’t open. His lips part on another shaky exhale of your name.
You kneel on the edge of the mattress, heart slamming against your ribs. Slowly, carefully, you rest your palm over the length of him through the cotton.
He jolts.
A long, relieved groan rumbles in his chest. His hips buck up into your hand before he even fully registers it.
You squeeze gently.
“Shhh,” you whisper, thumb brushing over the soaked head. “I’ve got you.”
Another whimper. His brows pinch like he’s trying to surface, but the dream still has him under.
You tug the waistband down just enough. His cock springs free, thick, flushed dark, slick at the tip, veins standing out. You wrap your fingers around him and fuck, he’s burning hot, throbbing in your grip.
The first slow stroke makes his whole body arch.
“Y/N…” he breathes, voice wrecked, still asleep.
You lean down. Let your tongue flick over the slit, tasting salt and need.
He chokes on a moan.
You take him deeper, past your lips, over your tongue, until he’s nudging the back of your throat. You hollow your cheeks and suck.
His hand flies to your hair even in sleep, fingers curling weakly.
You bob slowly at first, savoring the weight of him, the way he twitches every time you swirl around the head. Then faster. Wetter. Messier.
His breathing turns ragged. Hips jerking up in shallow thrusts he can’t control.
“Fuck—gonna—” he slurs, still not quite awake.
You pull off with a wet pop, replace your mouth with your hand, and pump him hard and fast.
His eyes snap open.
For one suspended second he just stares, pupils blown, lips swollen, chest heaving, trying to understand why his best friend is between his legs with her hand wrapped around his leaking cock.
Then he groans your name like a prayer and a curse at the same time.
“Wha—what are you—oh god don’t stop—”
You don’t.
You stroke him faster, slick sounds filling the room. His abs clench, thighs trembling.
“Been dreaming about you,” he rasps, voice shot. “Every night—fuck—thought it was just another dream—”
“It’s not,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m really here.”
He surges up, crashing his lips against yours, desperate, messy, tasting himself on your tongue. His hands grab your hips, yanking you into his lap so fast you gasp.
Clothes come off in frantic pulls. Your shirt, his tank, your shorts, his ruined sweats. Then he’s pressing you down into the mattress, caging you with his body, cock sliding hot and slick between your folds.
“Tell me you want this,” he pants against your throat. “Tell me I’m not still dreaming.”
“I want it,” you breathe. “Want you. Please, Chan—”
He sinks in with one long, slow thrust.
You both moan, loud, broken.
He’s so thick it almost stings, but the stretch is perfect, filthy, everything you’ve imagined on nights you touched yourself thinking about him.
He starts moving, deep, rolling thrusts that hit exactly where you need. His mouth finds your neck, sucking marks you know you’ll have to hide tomorrow.
“Mine,” he growls against your skin. “Fucking finally—mine—”
You claw at his back. “Yours—Chan—harder—”
He gives it to you. Hips snapping, bed creaking, headboard knocking the wall. One hand pins your wrists above your head; the other hooks under your knee, spreading you wider so he can go deeper.
You’re both loud, moans, gasps, filthy praise.
“Feel so good—fuck—so tight around me—”
“Chan—gonna come—don’t stop—”
“Come on my cock,” he orders, voice rough. “Let me feel it—been dying to feel you come for me—”
You shatter.
Back arching, thighs shaking, crying his name as you pulse around him.
He fucks you through it, growling, stuttering, then buries himself to the hilt and comes with a long, guttural moan, spilling hot and deep inside you.
For a minute you just lie there, panting, sticky, tangled.
He presses soft, shaky kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your lips.
“Was gonna confess tomorrow,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “Had this whole plan…”
You laugh breathlessly, threading fingers through his damp curls.
“Guess I ruined the surprise.”
He grins against your neck.
“Best fucking interruption of my life.”
He doesn’t pull out yet. Just holds you close, still half-hard inside you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
warnings: infidelity, mentions of suggestive content, morally gray characters, MDNI
a/n: based on this request, this fic explores fictional situations that are morally very very wrong and I do NOT condone cheating, lying, or breaking up relationships
Masterlist
~°~
You joined the SKZ writing team as a junior lyricist few months ago, still half-convinced someone would tap you on the shoulder and tell you there’d been a mistake.
You kept your head down at first and just observed the process, you learned the rhythms of the JYPE building—the way nights stretched longer than days, the way creativity bloomed best when everyone else had gone home. You didn’t mind the late nights. You actually felt calmer then, more focused, the lyrics coming easier, more relatable.
Then Bang Chan started staying late on the same nights you did.
Then Bang Chan started staying late on the same nights you did.
At first, he was just there. Black hoodie pulled up, headphones hanging loose around his neck, humming melodies under his breath while you scribbled lines that never felt good enough. He worked harder than anyone you’d ever seen, yet there was an ease to him too—a quiet warmth that made the studio feel less empty.
Somewhere along the way, you stopped seeing the idol and started noticing the person beneath it. Someone human. Someone who cared deeply about the work in front of him.
You noticed his silly habits too, like the way he’d tap his feet constantly when he was thinking. The way he thanked you sincerely when you offered feedback. The soft, approving hum he let out when something finally clicked. The way he slipped into a baby voice with his members during recording sessions. He was effortlessly charming, carrying an aura that made it hard not to be drawn in. It didn’t take long before you realized you were starting to crush on him.
You told yourself it was harmless because crushes happen, especially when you’re young, ambitious, and surrounded by people who feel larger than life. But of course you’d never act on it. You weren’t stupid.
Then one night, during a late session that had dragged well past midnight, his phone lit up on the desk beside him.
Baby <3
Your heart dropped so hard you thought you might feel it in your stomach.
You hadn’t meant to see it, but you did, and it felt like being caught doing something wrong—even though all you’d done was exist too close.
Chan glanced down and his expression softened and then he stood up quickly.
“Sorry,” he said, already reaching for his phone. “I’ll be right back.”
He stepped out of the studio, voice lowering as the door closed behind him.
The room felt quieter without him. You stared at your notebook, the words blurring together, chest tight with something you hadn’t prepared yourself for. You swallowed and turned slowly toward Han, who was sprawled across a chair nearby, scrolling on his phone.
“Hey,” you asked, trying to sound casual. “Chan… he has a partner?”
Han looked up immediately, like the question surprised him. Then he grinned.
“Yeah,” he said easily. “They’re, like, that couple. Always super lovey-dovey.”
Your fingers curled tighter around your pen.
“She’s in Italy right now,” he continued. “Doing her PhD. Crazy smart and beautiful. Totally hyung’s type.”
“And honestly,” Han added, chuckling, “I’ve never seen hyung that happy before. Ever since he started dating her, it’s like—boom. Man’s glowing. She’s definitely the love of his life.”
Love of his life.
The words echoed heavily in that confined studio.
“Oh,” you said quietly.
Han didn’t notice the way your smile faltered. He just went back to his phone. You looked down at your notebook again, blinking hard.
If only he was single, a traitorous part of you whispered.
You swallowed it down like poison and forced your pen to move again. The door opened a minute later.
Chan came back in, slipping his phone into his pocket. His eyes flicked toward you—just briefly—but something in his expression made your breath hitch. It was gone in a second, replaced by focus and professionalism.
Still, you could’ve sworn you saw something like sadness there.
Everyone got back to work and life went on.
The late nights didn’t stop. If anything, they multiplied. It was their comeback season afterall. Sometimes it was the full team. Sometimes it was just you and him, the studio dim except for the glow of screens and the quiet hum of creativity.
You started sharing meals, he’d order and treat you recommending his favourite places. And those nights would look like takeout containers spread across the table, you both laughing over dumb jokes and bickering about lyrics that didn’t quite land. You learned how he took his coffee. He learned you liked extra chili oil even though you pretended it didn’t affect you. And somewhere along the way, you became friends.
You talked about everything—music, childhood memories, fears about not being good enough. He listened like what you said mattered. You found yourself looking forward to nights you knew he’d be there.
Once, you asked about his girlfriend.
“Long distance must be hard,” you smiled gently at him.
He nodded, eyes on his screen. “Yeah. It is.”
That was it, then he changed the topic, and you let it go because pressing felt like crossing a line you didn’t want to acknowledge.
One night, exhaustion finally caught up to you.
You must have fallen asleep on the studio couch without realizing it, notebook slipping from your hands sometime after 3 a.m.
When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was how quiet it was. The second thing you noticed was him.
Chan was sitting on the floor beside the couch, legs folded in that loose criss-cross position, elbow resting on his knee, cheek propped in his hand. He wasn’t working, or looking at the screen, but he was looking at you.
Your eyes fluttered open fully, and the moment you met his gaze, you caught the fondness there. He blinked quickly, like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then straightened up and rose to his feet
“Morning, sunshine,” he said, teasing, slipping into that baby voice.
You groaned softly, rolling your eyes as you pushed yourself upright. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He shrugged, voice light. “You just looked really adorable.”
Heat rushed to your face before you could stop it.
“I did not,” you muttered, rubbing at your eyes.
He laughed quietly, the sound warm and soft in the early hours.
And then, like the universe loved irony, his phone rang.
Baby <3
You saw it, he did too and froze.
The space between you felt suddenly charged, heavy with something unspoken. His smile faded just a little as he stared at the screen, jaw tightening.
He declined the call. Your heart sank.
“You should answer her,” you said, trying to keep your voice neutral.
He hesitated, phone still in his hand, then shook his head slightly. “I’ll call her later,” he mumbled.
You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet, muttering something about going to freshen up.
**************************************
The tension between you and Chan continued to grow. You hate to admit it but you could tell it was more than platonic from his end too.
The late nights stopped feeling lonely once he was there. You stopped checking the clock, because neither of you wanted to be the first to leave. Hours passed quietly, in that soft rhythm of shared work and unspoken companionship. He stayed close without crowding, careful in the way that made the studio feel alive, warm, almost like home.
Some nights, you caught him out of the corner of your eye, abandoning his work just to watch you scribble lyrics. There was something almost magnetic in the way his stare lingered and sometimes your laughter would collide and hang in the air long after a joke, and in those small and intimate moments, it felt as if the world had shrunk down to just the two of you. He teased you lightly—remarking on the way your lip quivered when you were lost in thought, the purple felt-tip pen you always saved for the final draft, the tiny ritual of two cups of tea to revive yourself after a draining writing session. But when he spoke about these, you were amazed at his observation on you and how he paid attention to you and it made your heart lurch in ways that felt achingly wrong.
He asked for hugs, and when you wrapped yourself in each other’s arms, it lasted long enough that the world outside seemed to disappear. He held you the way someone might hold a fragile thing, afraid it could vanish if they let go. You could just feel the attraction because it was so obvious it hurt. Yet neither of you named it.
You never crossed the line, but you hovered so close that sometimes you wondered if that unspoken tension was worse than giving in. Like the way his hand would linger on your arm when he laughed, or your fingers would brush as you passed something, and the spark between you would hum in the quiet. Sometimes he would look at you just a second too long with such a yearning that your heart would start pounding in a way that left you breathless.
Then came the team party, that ruined everything.
But, you reminded yourself constantly:
He has a girlfriend. She’s perfect. He loves her.
After a brutal week of deadlines, sleepless nights, and endless studio sessions, everyone was exhausted yet wired. The CEO suggested drinks to unwind, and somehow you all ended up at a private bar so lavish it felt unreal, tucked away from the rest of the city.
Chan sticks close to you and offers you a drink.
You noticed the way his hand kept finding your back. The way he leaned down to talk to you even though you could hear him just fine. The way your name sounded wrong and right all at once on his lips. Drinks kept coming, and before you knew it, the warm buzz of alcohol had already settled in. He nudged you toward the dance floor, you followed him without really thinking. After a few songs, you stumbled back into a booth, laughing and catching your breath, watching everyone else let loose around you. Yet somehow, it felt like the two of you were in your own little world.
“It’s been a long week,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, I’m glad it’s over,” you giggled.
He leans a little closer. “I don’t usually get this… relaxed.”
“Guess you need someone to drag it out of you,” you tease.
He laughs softly, and the warmth of it lingers. “Maybe… or maybe I just needed the right company.”
The music pulses around you, but the space between you feels insulated, private. Your hands brush, lingering, and he doesn’t pull away.
“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he murmurs.
You barely have time to answer before his lips meet yours and after the initial shock you kissed him back. Everything you’d buried—months of tension, stolen glances, longing, restraint—comes rushing to the surface.
The kiss wasn’t tender or careful, instead it was desperate and messy and soaked in alcohol and everything you’ve been pretending not to feel. You know it’s wrong. You know it’s dangerous. You know it changes everything, but you melt into it anyway.
When you finally pull away, breathless, your heart hammering like a drum, panic claws at you. The reality—the girlfriend, the life you shouldn’t be destroying—screams at you.
You push back and stumble away, chest heaving. “I… no.. no,” you manage, voice trembling. You get up and run toward the bathroom, leaving him sitting there, frozen for a second.
“Wait!” His voice calls after you. “Y/N!”
He follows, matching your pace. The hallway feels eerily quiet compared to the bar. You enter the empty washroom, take deep breaths, and stare at yourself in the mirror, willing yourself to pull it together.
Then the door opens and Chan steps in, locking it behind him before you can think to stop him.
For a moment, neither of you speak. The space is small. You can feel the heat between you, the tension that’s been building for months pressing in from all sides.
“Leave me alone,” you slur.
“Baby—”
“Stop!”
He doesn’t listen. He trips slightly, and you instinctively reach to steady him, even though you’re barely keeping your balance yourself. His gaze flicks to your lips, and you feel the pull too strongly to resist.
“This is a bad idea,” you whisper, almost to yourself.
“I know,” he replies, voice low and urgent.
And then he’s reaching for you again. The kiss comes fast and hungry. He presses you against the wall, your bodies flush, breaths uneven, hands gripping at fabric as if to anchor yourselves in the chaos of the moment. Foreheads press together between kisses, both of you gasping, and moaning in the shared heat of the instant.
Every rational thought, every moral boundary, every flicker of guilt—they all crumble under the weight of the ache for holding each other. The kiss deepens and you both begin to cross every boundary that you set all these months, desperation fueled with intoxication consumed every corner of your senses.
**************************************
You woke up the next morning with a headache and a sick feeling curling in your stomach. You quickly realised it was at the bar’s hotel room. The room felt too quiet but the memory of his touch came back rushing like a wave. The weight of what you’d done pressing down on your chest until it felt hard to breathe. And then you saw him. He was awake and avoiding your eyes like if he didn’t look at you, it hadn’t happened.
Neither of you said a word. You got dressed in silence. You left without touching him and without even saying goodbye.
After that, the studio became a battlefield.
You avoided each other like strangers. Conversations became clipped and professional.
He didn’t sit near you anymore. You didn’t stay late anymore. But the silence was worse than the guilt.
You replayed that night over and over—every look, every breath, every second you should’ve stopped. You hated yourself for wanting him still. For noticing the way his voice sounded rough nowadays. For missing the way he used to look at you when he thought no one noticed.
You couldn’t live with it. So by the third day, when the studio was quiet again and it was just the two of you, you broke.
“Chan,” you said softly, heart pounding. “We need to talk.”
He froze. The air shifted instantly.
He exhales through his nose, slow and controlled. “No,” he says. “We really don’t.”
“Yes,” you insist, voice trembling despite your effort. “Because pretending nothing happened is killing me.”
He finally turns to face you and his expression is guarded—leader mode engaged, walls fully up. Whatever softness you saw since you began working with him was gone.
“That never happens again,” he says flatly.
You swallow. “I know. I’m not—this isn’t me asking for more. I just—what happened was wrong. We crossed a line. And I feel sick about it.”
His jaw tightens.
“It was a mistake,” he repeats, like a mantra. “One time. Fueled by alcohol and bad judgment.”
You nod. “I know. But it did happen. And ignoring it doesn’t make it—”
He cuts you off sharply.
“You will not talk about this. To anyone. Ever.”
The finality in his voice makes your stomach drop.
“I’m serious,” he continues, stepping closer, his voice dangerously low. “This cannot get out. Not to the team. Not to friends. Not to anyone.”
Your eyes burn. “I would never—”
“You don’t understand,” he says, voice low. “If this comes out, it doesn’t just hurt me. It destroys her. And I won’t let that happen.”
Her.
The reminder slices clean through you.
“I love her,” he says, firmer now, like he needs you to hear it clearly. “She’s the love of my life. And whatever that night was—it doesn’t change that.”
You nod again, too quickly, shame flooding your chest.
“I hate myself for it,” you whisper. “I know what I did. I know what that makes me.”
He doesn’t soften.
“Then we’re on the same page,” he says. “Because this ends here. We stay professional. Cordial. Nothing more.”
Your throat tightens.
He looks at you and for a split second, something like regret flickers in his eyes.
“Keep it to yourself, please,” he says. “I can;t lose her.”
Silence stretches between you, thick and heavy.
“Don’t worry,” you say finally. “I won’t say a word.”
“Good,” he lets out a sigh.
And that’s it. No apology was shared, it was like agreeing to a contract. You just agreed to bury it, and to lock it away forever and pretend you didn’t still feel something every time he walked into a room. It was the closure to that night.
**************************************
From that day on, you become professional to the point of coldness.
You arrive on time. You leave on time. You don’t stay late unless absolutely necessary. You don’t laugh as freely. You don’t linger. You don’t sit near him if you can avoid it.
You don’t let yourself imagine what ifs.
One afternoon, you were carrying a stack of lyric sheets and tripped over the edge of the carpet. Papers went flying in every direction, but before you could even scramble to gather them, Chan’s voice cut sharply through the air:
“Y/N! Watch where you’re going!”
You froze, cheeks burning, bracing for the scolding you fully deserved. But the moment he saw your stunned, embarrassed expression, his tone softened. His hand reached out gently to steady you.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Be careful next time.”
Your chest lurched. You wanted to protest, to step back, to remind him he wasn’t supposed to care, but the other staff were around, watching the exchange, and you had no words that could make sense of the storm rising inside you.
Another evening, you stayed late again, the studio empty except for the hum of the connected electric guitar. Chan lingered near the console, playing a melody softly. You were engrossed in your writing when a chair scraped quietly behind you.
He fidgeted with the rings on his fingers and cleared his throat. You looked up at him, but before he could say anything, the door burst open and Minho and Seungmin came in with coffee, and the moment ended. You couldn’t help but wonder what Chan had wanted to say.
Another day, you didn’t show up at the studio because you were feeling a little under the weather. The next day when you went to work, Han cornered you as soon as you walked in, a teasing grin on his face.
“You’re taking Innie’s spot as hyung’s most favorite friend,” he said, nudging you lightly. “He was so worried about you yesterday.”
You froze, a flush rising to your cheeks. “He was? That’s ridiculous,” you muttered, trying to sound dismissive.
“Ridiculous?” Han echoed, grinning wider. “Channie hyung literally called me three times asking where you were. He looked… tense, like he was going to explode. I’ve never seen him so—”
“Stop.” Your voice was sharper than intended. You couldn’t bear it—the attention, the implication, the way it made your chest flutter against your will.
Han raised his hands in mock surrender, clearly amused by your flustered state. “Alright, alright. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”
You huffed, crossing your arms. You couldn’t tell Han how much Chan’s behavior was driving you insane. First, he tells you to forget that night, to erase it as if it never happened. Then he ignores your existence for hours on end, only to turn around and worry over you, to glance at you like… like you were the one he let slip through his fingers. He’s infuriatingly complicated, and it makes your chest ache with frustration. Why can’t he just leave you alone, like he so harshly insisted that night?
You just wished he would stop with this nonsense, because it wasn’t just the moments when you were alone with him that set your chest on fire—it was also the tiny interactions scattered across ordinary days.
One afternoon, Hyunjin was lounging in the studio, clearly bored, and started a conversation with you. “You know,” he said casually, “I could set you up with one of my friends. Really nice guy. You’d get along.”
You smiled politely, shrugging it off, trying to keep the conversation light. But the moment his words hit, you felt a presence behind you—Chan, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes flitted between you and Hyunjin, and suddenly, his expression was unreadable, but the tension radiating off him made it impossible to ignore.
You blinked, unsure how to respond, and turned back to Hyunjin. “Yeah, thanks for thinking of me,” you said carefully.
Chan’s gaze lingered longer than it should, burning into your back. You could feel the heat of it on your skin, and your chest tightened.
Another day, you opened the studio door and froze mid-step.
Chan was on the phone, mid-call, and the soft laughter that reached your ears made your stomach twist. He was on a facetime call with her.
Chan’s head shot up, eyes briefly flicking toward you, a hint of guilt—or maybe irritation—passing over his features before he quickly returned to the call.
“I’ll… come back later,” you mumbled automatically, heart thudding.
You walked back out, trying to force your pulse to slow, wishing you could stop the jealousy creeping through your veins.
Then there were days when Changbin would sit too close to you in the studio—leaning over to see your lyrics, brushing shoulders while pointing at the monitor—and you would feel Chan’s eyes on you before you even noticed.
It wasn’t overt jealousy at first. It was a subtle tightening of his jaw, a sharp glance, a hand tightening unconsciously on his pen. You would catch him watching your every movement, and sometimes, just sometimes, he’d mutter under his breath, “That’s … way too close.”
You hated yourself for noticing. Hated that it made your stomach twist, hated that the flush on your cheeks came every time he looked at you that way. And you knew that he wasn’t supposed to care like this, he had a life, a girlfriend, a future separate from you.
But all of these moments—his small jealousy, the lingering looks, the quiet possessiveness—built tension you couldn’t run from. Each one made the line between professional and forbidden blur just a little more, until you couldn’t remember where it started and where it ended.
Even though you tried to stay distant, tried to bury yourself in work, Chan’s presence and his every glance, every word, every tiny gesture reminded you of what you both couldn’t have and made the longing all the more impossible to ignore.
And you felt pathetic for feeling this way.
**************************************
JYP had invited everyone to his farmhouse for a weekend party, a fancy affair tucked away from the city, somewhere that felt like a world of its own.
You did not want to go. Parties weren’t your thing, and farmhouse weekends were definitely not your thing. But, as usual, Changbin and Han had other ideas.
“You have to come,” Changbin said, grinning like a child who already knew he’d won. “It’s amazing. The place is huge, the food is unreal, and—wait for it—there’s an elevator inside a house! Who even has that?”
Han nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, come on. You can’t just sit this one out. You’d be missing it for no reason.”
You groaned, crossing your arms. “I really don’t care about elevators inside houses.”
“Of course you do,” Changbin said smugly. “Everyone does. It’s insane.”
“You’ll see!” Han added, giving you a playful shove. “We’re not taking no for an answer.”
You sighed, knowing that arguing would be useless. These two always got what they wanted, and if you tried to resist… well, you’d just end up in their crosshairs until you gave in.
“Fine,” you muttered, finally relenting. “I’ll go. But only because I want to see this ridiculous indoor elevator.”
Changbin and Han high-fived like you’d just handed them a victory. “Yes! You won’t regret it!” Changbin cheered.
“Trust me,” Han added, smirking, “you’re gonna love it. And maybe… you’ll enjoy the party too.”
You rolled your eyes but secretly wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was a part of you curious about the farmhouse too. After all, this was JYP’s place—the kind of fantasy space that seemed worlds away from your average life.
As the weekend rolled around, you drove out with Changbin and Han, and tried to focus on the scenery—the rolling fields, the warm glow of the farmhouse in the distance—but your thoughts kept drifting to him.
“Is everyone going?” you asked from the backseat, trying to sound casual.
“Yeah, Minho hyung is driving the rest of the members,” Han replied, leaning over slightly, fiddling with a music cord to connect it to Changbin’s car.
Changbin, behind the wheel, shot him a playful glare. “Yah, stop messing with the aux cord, I’m trying to focus here!”
Han just laughed, clearly enjoying his antics. “Relax, Binnie. I’m just making sure we have the perfect playlist for the trip!”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at their energy. “Perfect playlist for what? For annoying me on the drive?”
“Exactly,” Changbin said with a grin, tossing a small look over his shoulder. “But also for the farmhouse vibes. You’re going to love it.”
Han chimed in, “It’s insane. Honestly, this is why we insisted you come. You can’t say no to a JYP party.”
You huffed, but the tension in your chest eased a little, replaced by amusement. “I can’t believe I let you two convince me to come. I should’ve stayed home.”
“Pfft,” Changbin snorted. “You’d have missed all the fun, and we can’t have that.”
You leaned back in your seat chuckling as the music filled the car. As the farmhouse drew closer, glowing like a golden oasis in the dusk, you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest at the thought that tonight, for better or worse, you would see him again.
The farmhouse was even more stunning than you’d imagined. Lanterns hung from wooden beams, casting a warm golden glow across the wide, open living area. The scent of polished wood and fresh flowers mingled with the faint aroma of food from the kitchen. Outside, strings of fairy lights twinkled along the patio, reflecting on the small pond nearby. You took a slow breath, trying to drink it all in, and felt a strange mix of awe and nerves.
Changbin and Han led the way, laughing and pointing out little details—an antique vase here, a hidden bookshelf there, and yes, the infamous indoor elevator. You rolled your eyes at the elevator but couldn’t suppress a smile; the energy the two of them carried was contagious.
Just as you were settling into the flow of the party, you noticed Bambam and Jackson making their way over, laughing and teasing each other as they moved through the crowd. Gosh, they were even more handsome in real life.
Han and Changbin immediately stepped forward to introduce you.
“Y/N, this is Bambam and Jackson,” Han said cheerily, nudging you forward slightly. “They’re part of the fun squad for the weekend.”
Jackson extended a hand, grinning warmly. “Hey! Finally get to meet you. Changbin and Han have been talking about you all week.”
You shook his hand, smiling politely. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
Bambam leaned a little closer, his mischievous grin spreading. “So you’re the one they’ve been hyping up? I can see why. You’ve got a presence about you.”
You chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “They probably exaggerated a little.”
“Exaggerated?” Jackson echoed, mock horror in his voice. “I think they undersold you.”
The conversation flowed easily, and before long, the five of you had claimed a cozy couch at the edge of the main hall. Jackson left after a few drinks and Changbin and Han lingered just long enough to make sure you were comfortable, shooting each other knowing looks before wandering off into the crowd.
Bambam leaned back, smirking, resting an arm along the back of the booth. “Finally, some uninterrupted time with me,” he said, tone playful. “I thought they’ll bother us all evening.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Hey, they’re my friends! Are these parties always so glamorous?”
“Well, it’s a JYP party,” he teased, nudging your shoulder lightly. “This is nothing compared to Jackson’s parties though. Maybe you should come as my date for the next one?”
Your chest fluttered, and for a moment, you let yourself laugh freely. The night felt lighter than it had in months. The banter, the warmth, the easy camaraderie—it was intoxicating.
Bambam leaned closer, whispering something jokingly, making you chuckle. He dropped playful comments and flirtatious remarks, making the conversation crackle with energy.
But then, out of the corner of your eye, you felt it. Chan’s presence.
He was standing at the entrance of the main hall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on you. Not the subtle, professional glance you were used to. His gaze was sharp, intense, and it made your chest tighten. Every laugh, every brush of Bambam’s shoulder against yours, seemed magnified under his scrutiny.
Before you could even process it, Chan was beside you. “Y/N,” he murmured, low and urgent, tugging gently at your arm. “We need to talk. Now.”
Bambam looked between the two of you, confusion flickering across his face, but Chan’s intensity silenced him. You didn’t even have time to respond before he guided you out of the hallway, past the crowd, and toward a quiet room on the second floor of the farmhouse. The music dulled as he pushed open the door to an empty room and shut it behind you.
The silence was loud.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, yanking your hand free. “Why were you staring at me like that?”
He turned to you slowly, eyes dark. “Why were you laughing with him like that?”
You let out a bitter laugh. “Seriously? That’s your problem?”
“Yes,” he said, stepping closer. “That’s exactly my problem.”
“So what?” you shot back. “Am I not allowed to breathe near other people now?”
He reached out suddenly, gripping your shoulders, fingers digging in like he was holding onto the edge of a cliff. “Do you even understand what you do to me?”
Your breath hitched. “What?”
“I love you!” he yelled, the words ripping out of him, raw and unfiltered.
Your knees nearly buckled. “What…?”
“I said it!” His voice cracked, eyes shining with something dangerously close to tears. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Every day. Every damn night. I wake up and it’s you. I sleep and it’s you. If only—if only you had met me earlier… I could’ve—God, I could’ve chosen differently.”
“Don’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Don’t say that.”
He let out a broken laugh. “But I can’t leave her. I won’t.” His voice dropped, heavy with truth. “She’s been with me for years. My mom… she gave me her ring. Her ring, Y/N. I’m supposed to propose. Our families know. Everything’s already planned.”
The words sliced straight through you.
Each word felt like a blade.
“I can’t destroy that many lives,” he continued quietly. “I can’t break her. I can’t disappoint my family.”
He looked at you then, really looked at you, and his voice softened in a way that hurt worse than shouting.
“But you,” he continued, stepping closer, eyes softening in a way that made your chest ache. “You feel like home. You feel like everything I didn’t know I was missing.”
Tears burned behind your eyes. “This is wrong,” you whispered. “You don’t get to say that to me while choosing her. You don’t get to love me in private and erase me in public.”
“I know,” he said, almost pleading. “I know it’s wrong. But everything in me—against all odds—wants you. I don’t know how to shut it off.”
You shoved his hands away, voice breaking. “You treat me like shit, Chan. You tell me to forget, to act normal, to pretend nothing happened—and then you get jealous, you corner me, you say you love me? Do you know how cruel that is?”
He flinched.
“What we did was horrible,” you continued, anger mixing with grief. “I hate myself for it. I hate that I was the other woman. I hate that I let myself believe—”
“Don’t say that,” he whispered.
“I will,” you said fiercely. “Because someone has to be honest. And since you can’t choose, I will.”
Silence fell between you, heavy and suffocating.
“I’m leaving the team,” you said quietly. “I won’t renew my contract with SKZ. I’ll go to another band.”
His head snapped up. “That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is,” you said firmly. “Because you can’t… and I can’t. I can’t have another drunken mistake. I can’t be the girl you look at when your life feels too heavy. I deserve more than that.”
He swallowed hard, eyes glassy. “But I’ll lose you, forever.”
“No,” you whispered. “I was never yours.”
He let out a sob, “This hurts.”
You shook your head and as you were beginning to leave, he grabbed your wrist to stop you. Then he stepped forward, forehead resting against yours, breath uneven. “Just… just once more,” he murmured. “So I don’t forget what this felt like.”
You should’ve said no. You should’ve pushed him away… but you kissed him.
It wasn’t desperate this time. It was slow. It was a goodbye pressed into trembling lips. His hands cradled your face like you were something precious, something he was already mourning. When you pulled away, both of you were crying.
“Be happy,” you whispered. “With her.”
He shook his head, unable to speak. As you walked out, you didn’t look back. It was their love story and you were just the other woman.
· ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations
pls reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors!❤️
lovers rock - ( @lynsbng ) fluff, suggestive, secret relationship trope. rockstar!chan x volleybal cap!reader. this is so gooood, played in my head like a movie! such a power couple
glitter and stars - ( @starlostjisung ) fluff, domestic. bf!changbin x reader decorating the christmas tree. it´s literally march rn but i don´t care, i loved this
impulse - ( @satorisoup ) smut. munch bf!han trying out his freshly done tongue piercing,,, you already know its good
drunken mess - ( @binnieverssse ) angst. drunk bf!jisung saying some fucked up stuff he won´t even remember the day after. just a little angst to ease the pain, loved it sm
artfully yours - ( @binnieverssse ) fluff. idol bf!hyunjin x reader where she get his art tattoed on her body. this is so beautiful :( feel like hyun would appreciate this kind of actions sm, he would be so touched bc he´s romantic like that
the reveal of the century - ( @binnieverssse ) fluff, crack-ish. idol bf!bin accidentally revealing your relationship to the whole wolrd on live bc he doesn´t know how to turn it off. LMAOOO this had me cackling, sosososos cute!
greenridge - ( @midnighthazee ) smut, fluff, angst, abo dynamics, soulmate au. skz x reader x skz, m/m f/m. yupppppp, this is smutty as fUCK, loved the plot, loved the series. read the warnings, there are strong themes mentioned.
touching you - ( @live-laugh-bangchan ) smut, fluff. idol!han x gf!reader. THIS IS WOOOOOWWWW, i was so immersed reading this! the whole writing style and plot is soo jisung coded, i loved it so muchhh, so detailed too
dear y/n - ( @ihaveamassivegun ) smut, crack-ish, strong themes, serial killer ot8!skz, on going series. i really had to tag the whole m.list bc its that serious. LISTEN, i´m gagged everytime there´s an update bc why tf do i like these sm?? i still can´t get past cannibalist!felix (bc wtf???) but i still eat it up eeeeverytime, you´ll see me in that comment section going crazy regardless lmao
muncher all the way - ( @hanjinology ) smut, idol!han x gf!reader, sub loser!han (yuhh canon). han jisung being a munch is global news, factual atp and i´ll die on that hill. also,, this is so detailed!!!! i was shook
handjobs - ( @hnsbxby ) smut, sub ot8!skz headcanons. first of all, author you reeallyy know what you´re talking about bc chris being a pretty crier, lino and seungmin being bratty subs and bin being a service sub (!!!!) is CANON! i know in my heart ts is true. also, the slap on seungmins face turning him on??? that man has the biggest manhandling kink
to really see you - ( @justauthoring ) angst, fluff, abo dynamics, soulmate au, poly!skz x reader, m/m/f. one of my fav skz abo fics fs!! I was SAT every wednesday and fridays and ocasional mondays waiting for an update bc it was soso good, hopecore fic fr. also read the warnings, there are strong scenes and themes mentioned
eucalyptus - ( @innocent-artery ) fluff, smut. idol bf!felix x gf!reader. this is what its like to be in a relationship with lee felix to a T, a whole lot of TLC. i need him
sugardaddy - ( @elylyyy ) smut. sugardaddy!changbin thinking about baby trapping you after he had a taste of that cookie,,, iktr
letters to my home - ( @keeperofasecretsecret ) fluffffff, established relationship. idol bf!hyun x gf!reader. jesus christttttt this is the cutest thing ever :((( he has such an pure old romantic soul, i love him sm
drabble — chan can pretty much take everything, but not his ego.
You were insatiable.
That was the first thing Chan learned about you when you started dating, and months later it still left him breathless, addicted, and occasionally wrecked. No matter how many times he made you cum—on his tongue, his fingers, his cock—you always came back for more, eyes dark and body already humming with fresh need. Some nights you’d pounce the second he walked through the door, dropping to your knees before he could even set his bag down. Other nights you’d ride him for hours until sweat slicked both your bodies and his voice went hoarse from groaning your name.
He loved it. Most of the time.
Tonight, though, he was exhausted. You've been all over him for the rest of the day, that leaves him exhausted and dried. Too much for him to mive anymore.
Chan was sprawled on the couch in nothing but gray sweatpants, one arm slung behind his head, the other lazily curled around you as some action movie played on the TV. His thumb idly stroked your thigh, half-distracted. You were already worked up, again, pressing hot little kisses along his neck, guiding his free hand between your legs.
You weren’t wearing panties.
Two of his fingers sank easily into your soaked cunt, curling just the way you liked. You moaned softly against his skin, rocking your hips, chasing the friction. He pumped them steadily, thumb circling your clit, but his eyes stayed on the screen. You rode his hand harder, breath hitching, thighs trembling as you came with a quiet gasp.
But you didn't stop from riding his fingers, relentless amd desperate to reach another one of those orgasm he could give you. Once, twice, thrice more. But it wasn't enough. Of course, it wasn't enough. It won't be enough for you, Chan knowsbthat already, so eventhough his wrists aches from koving the same action over and over again, he still does everything he could to at least make you feel good, despite being exhausted.
So imagine his shock when suddenly you sat up, flushed and glassy-eyed, and kissed him once—deep and filthy—before pulling back away from him. Chest heaving up and down, that expression on your face he knows very well.
"You know how much I love you, yeah?" You hummed against his lips, although confused, Chan nodded his head.
"Great, so you wouldn't mind if I slip on our room and take care of myself? I love you, I really really do, but your hands doesn't do much for me right now. I needed something more. I promise, I'll be quick."
Chan blinked, a little dazed as you slipped off the couch and disappeared into your shared bedroom. The door clicked shut.
At first he just shrugged it off, adjusting his hardening cock in his sweats, as much as he wanted to help you out, his whole body is already aching. You were insatiable, yeah, but you’d come back. You always did.
Then he heard it.
The low, familiar buzz of your vibrator. Followed by your moan—loud, shameless, unrestrained.
Chan’s jaw tightened. Another moan, higher this time, and the wet, rhythmic sound of you fucking yourself with your toys. He could picture it perfectly; legs spread wide on the bed, one hand pinching your nipple while the other worked that thick silicone cock in and out of your dripping pussy, the vibrator pressed hard against your clit.
His ego took the hit like a punch to the gut.
What the fuck? After everything he gave you? Hours of him buried inside you, making you scream until your throat was raw, you still needed toys to feel satisfied? His hand wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough?
The vibrator’s intensity kicked up. Your moans turned into desperate, broken whimpers.
Something in Chan snapped.
He stood up fast, exhaustion vanished from him, replaced by fury. He felt his ego wounded, and stormed down the hall. He didn’t even knock. The door flew open.
You were exactly as he’d imagined. Naked, legs splayed obscenely, one of your thick dildos stretching your pussy while the vibrator buzzed mercilessly against your swollen clit. Your eyes flew open when he entered, lips parted on a moan.
"What— Chan!"
He was on you before you could finish his name. He ripped the toys away and tossed them aside with a clatter. You gasped as he shoved you flat on your back, yanking your thighs apart roughly. His sweats were shoved down just enough to free his aching cock—hard, flushed dark, leaking at the tip.
“Chan!” you shrieked.
“You think those silicone pieces of shit can fuck you better than me?” His voice was low, dangerous, all the usual softness gone. He lined himself up and slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
You cried out, back arching sharply. He was thicker than any toy, and the sudden stretch burned so good.
Chan didn’t give you time to adjust. He fucked you like he was punishing you, deep, punishing strokes that made the bed creak and your tits bounce. One hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.
“Hours,” he growled against your ear, hips snapping relentlessly. “I fuck you for hours and you still sneak off to let toys stretch this greedy little cunt? You're a disgusting whore.”
You could barely speak, only moan and sob his name as he railed you. Every thrust dragged against that perfect spot inside you, brutal and precise. He was so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
He pulled out suddenly, flipped you onto your stomach, and your hips up. He mounted you again, fucking you even harder from behind, one hand fisting your hair.
“Tell me,” he demanded, voice rough. “Tell me those toys will never be enough again.”
“It won’t—ahh—fuck, Chan—!” you cried, pushing back to meet his thrusts.
He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight, mean circles. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, walls clamping down around his cock so hard he groaned. But he didn’t stop. He fucked you straight through it, chasing his own release while you shook and drooled into the sheets.
When he came, it was with a guttural moan, burying himself as deep as possible and flooding you with hot, thick spurts. He stayed inside you, grinding slow and possessive, making sure every drop stayed right where it belonged.
He finally let go of your body after what felt like an eternity, collapsing beside you with a heavy, satisfied groan. His chest heaved, skin glistening with sweat, cock still twitching from the force of his release.
The second his grip loosened, you rolled onto your back, smiling up at the ceiling with hazy, half-lidded eyes. Your body was trembling, thighs sticky with his cum and your own arousal, but the lazy, blissed-out grin on your face said everything.
“I didn’t know you could do that…” you murmured dreamily, voice hoarse and dazed, still floating in the afterglow.
Chan froze. A deep flush crawled up his neck and across his cheeks. He groaned in pure embarrassment, throwing one arm over his face as he turned his head into the pillow.
“Shut up,” he muttered, voice muffled and mortified, though you could hear the hint of a shy laugh in it.
You let out a weak, satisfied laugh, your fingers lazily threading through his damp hair.
“Baby… that was so hot,” you whispered, still smiling dreamily. “I think I need you to get jealous of my toys more often.”
Chan groaned again, louder this time, his arm wrapped around your waist as he bury his face on your neck.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mumbled to which made you giggle again and maybe let him rest for now because honestly, the exhaustion is starting to come over you now.
a/n: hi! hey, so i promise i am currently taking a rest. But after reading certain jjk fic i just had to do a similar thing to it. this was very much inspired to that sukuna smut i read that i forgot to save. i thought i shared it but turns out i didn't. please, if you know what fic i am talking about please tag the author so i could credit them properly. ANYWAYS. Just dropping this off and then see you all once i completely recovered. LOVE LOTS <333
warnings|| insecurity, could be read as chubby/overweight reader, fluffff, chan is the embodiment of perfect
────୨ৎ───
not even in a dirty way, he just want to cuddle while watching a movie, maybe make you sit there as you two work on your own thing, he wants to feel you as close as possible to him, yet everytime he asked you to, you found a way to change the topic and get out of it without refusing directly, you never told him why and he never asked too much, he just assumed that you wanted your time to get comfortable, but that time wouldn't stretch to a year and a half?
year and a half of bangchan yearning from afar for you, a year and a half of failing attempts to get you in his lap, even while sleeping you don't want to lie on top of him, how he managed to live this whole year without combusting is beyond him.
he should be crowned for bravery and patient, no man can handle not having the love of their life molding into their skin, what's the point of all that weight lifting if he can't get you to be on him?!
so he started throwing bigger hints, the bubble workout videos, the outrageous weight he lifted, all for you to see how strong he is, he'd send them privately "look how much i have improved, love. what do you think?" "that's so cool I'm proud of you!!"
cool? cool?! that's not what he wanted to hear! where is the "can you lift me?" the challenge he expected to come from you! then he'll show you just how strong he is and come literally lift you up then you'll be all impressed and you'll finally sit on his lap, where is all of that? can't you see how much he's doing and hinting at you? all he want is for his love to lean on him why is that so much to ask?
so after millions of failed hints he finally decided to come and talk about it clearly—you were in the kitchen doing whatever you were doing when he suddenly appeared beside you, leaning on the counter and looking intensely at you.
you looked at him in confusion "um, everything's okay?" you asked, feeling weirded out from his intense gaze. "no," he said simply, taking a step closer to you "i have a question and i need you to answer it", you looked around nervously before giving a forced smile "sure...?"
he let out a sigh and gave you a worried look "tell me, do i make you uncomfortable?" you paused—looking at him dumbfounded "what? no! where did that come from??" you frowned in concern, have you done something to make him feel like that? god, bangchan was the perfect boyfriend you could ask for, why would he ever feel like this
"then please tell me, why do you always avoid being close to me?"
"i don't–" "yes you do, you don't sit on my lap and you don't want to lay on my chest when we sleep, you always refuse to ride on my back when i do pushups even i specifically ask you to! i just want to know if I'm doing something wrong..." the pleading, worried look he was giving you made it so hard to avoid answering him.
you look away, biting your lip as you wonder how to phrase your answer "it's not you, i just.." you murmur fidgeting with your fingers "..i don't want to hurt you" you glanced up at him only to see his expression shifting to confusion "hurt me?" he asked, "i mean, like I'm a bit heavy so i don't want to hurt you" you said fast, fighting yourself to not get teary eyed.
"are you serious?" chan was looking at you like you said the most outrageous thing he has ever heard in his life "love, i lift weights that at least three times of yours" "i know but it—" you cut yourself off when you saw him stepping closer to you, and in a blink of an eye you feel yourself getting lifted off of the ground, you let out a yelp as your upper half dangled on his shoulder while he had a strong grip on your legs.
you grabbed his shoulder and looked back at him "chan put me down!", "no" he said simply and adjusted your position like you weighted nothing, now he had his arm around your thighs in a more comfortable grip "if you won't listen to words then I'll show you that i can handle you" he said and started walking around the house
all your fussing and struggle went on deaf ears, bangchan was determined to show you how absurd your excuse was when he was your boyfriend, so you spent the next three hours lying on his shoulder as he did random things around the house.
so the next time you better just accept your fate and sit on his lap because he will do it again.
────୨ৎ───
a/n|| i feel like i forgot how to write oh my god i did so much smau/fake texts and didn't write at all for weeks, please tell me i didn't forget how to write and this is still good cause im gonna cry
𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ִֶָ. ..𓂃 @imsleepingwhataboutu @dina-10s-blog @loonarixsxx @hanniesbubuwife @hyunjinsslut12 @lilyxii @anastarsia-00 @chrispypineappleburger @1-aria-1 @leeknaurrrr @koala-wonderland @jeonginsfavglazer @yngjgn @ren0325 @yourstargirlyyy @viisstrayy @bunbunbl0gs @vernorica123 @naenaen if you want to be added OR removed please feel free to send an ask or comment!!
𝒿ust the tip with frat!hyunjin
💭 :: mdni 69O smut dom!hyune virginity loss implied no protection he's a loverboy at heart ( jeongin vers. ) ( enhypen vers. ) this is a repost from my other blog!
"just the tip," you breathe, the words a soft plea against his lips. they're swollen and tender from his kisses, and his fingers gently brush a stray strand of hair from your flushed cheek. you're laying so pretty under him, your pupils blown wide, face flushed.
hyunjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head, a small, regretful smile playing on his lips. "sorry, love. no can do."
a frustrated whine escapes you, a puff of warm air against his skin. "but… why?"
"because," he says, his thumbs lightly tracing the curve of your jaw, "it never ends up being just the tip. the second i try to do what you want, i know i'll cave." he playfully squishes your cheeks together, forcing a pout that doesn't quite reach your heated eyes.
"well, is that such a bad thing?" you ask, your voice thick with lust. "don't you want to have sex with me?"
"obviously, i wanna have sex with you," hyunjin says, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he rolls his eyes. "i just… i want us to take it slow, okay?"
you groan, throwing your head back in exasperation. "seriously? we've been taking it slow. just. the. tip. baby steps, right?"
hyunjin chews on his bottom lip, feeling ashamed for even considering it. he'd promised himself he wouldn't rush this, that he'd give you the best first time possible. you deserve that.
but then there you are. his girl. right here. your discarded shirt lies on the floor, and the lace of your bra does little to hide the tempting press of your perky nipples. it isn't entirely his fault if his resolve is crumbling.
and crumble it does.
"just the tip," he repeats, his voice a husky murmur, his gaze dropping and then flicking back to yours, heavy with unspoken need. he's hovering over you now, the slick head of his cock aligned perfectly with your glistening pussy.
"yeah, yeah," you mumble, impatient, your hands reaching up to hook around his neck, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
"baby, i mean it," he says, his eyes locked on yours, a warning and a plea all in one.
"uh-huh. can you just… can you put it in now?"
hyunjin sighs, the sound laced with a mock reluctance that does little to hide the tremor in his hands as he grips your thighs. it's just the tip, a gentle press against your slick folds, and a gasp escapes your lips, a feeling of fullness hitting instantly.
he finds himself mentally reciting the names of this year's football teams, a desperate attempt to cling to some semblance of control, to not climax this early. and he's supposed to be the experienced one.
"hyune," you whine, your inner muscles clenching around him, a delicious squeeze that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through him. his hand comes up to gently caress your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin, and you lean into his touch.
"shit, doll," he grunts, his control fraying at the edges. "please don't squeeze like that. i c—can barely…"
"you—you should just put all of it in," you whisper, your fingers tangling in his impossibly white hair, tugging gently.
"no," he mumbles, the denial a weak protest. keeping you away from this sweet release, even though you could probably come from this alone. "you feel so good. so… so tight."
"all the more reason—"
"no." this isn't how it's supposed to happen. your first time deserves more than a stolen moment in the middle of a forgotten study session. there should be flowers, maybe candles… it should be perfect.
he's already made up his mind, the decision firm despite the insistent throb of his cock. hyunjin's thumb brushes lightly across your swollen clit, and a small whimper escapes your lips.
"hyune, i really need you." and then you look up at him, your eyes glossed with unshed tears, desperate and raw.
fuck it.
as long as it's here, with you, it'll be perfect. besides, he vaguely remembers seeing some dusty candles in the back of the storage closet.
"Keep your voice down or you don't get anything," Chan says as he continues his route like nothing is happening. Everything is fine – I mean besides the fact that his fingers are plunged deep into your cunt. You're seat is rolled all the way back, your legs spread open trying to shut at the feeling of his fingers curling into you.
He's fingering you like he's trying to teach you a lesson, well because he is. Too many times Chan had caught Changbin starting at your ass practically peeking out from your dress, and of course it's your fault because you protested nobody would care that it was too short.
The dress mentioned is pulled up to your stomach letting your pussy feel the breeze from the air conditioning on. "Don't close your legs now baby. You're the one that wanted to be a slut."
His fingers pull out and slap your thighs to open – once you listen and immediately spread them his fingers find your pussy folds and roughly take them in between his index and middle finger, rubbing your nub.
"Chan–f-fuck!" You're legs clenched wanting to close them to keep his hands there forever. He continues to drive like nothing, the freeway lights shining on your silhouette from time to time.
Chan's fingers trail down to find your warm hole already leaking with your arousal. Pushing in two fingers instantly to open up and adjust to his thick fingers. You're own hands find your breast and squeeze them just like he would if he wasn't too focused on the road. You're other hand helps his wrist move to pump his fingers in the way you need him.
"That's it, guide me, you need me. Tell me you need me." He wishes he could see your face, he already knows it would be so beautiful with the way he's fucking his fingers into you. You're eyes would be rolled back with your mouth opened–to much to not let out soft whimpers your practically begging for more.
You tried to respond, you really did and that made him lose it. Chan's fingering pace quickens pushing and thrusting his fingers in to touch your gummy tight walls. "Say it now." He's done–gone, he needs you to tell him it.
You're soaking his fingers, you're juices flowing out and making his fingers wet to soak his knuckles. The poor seat under you is dripping down to your ass. His grip on the steering wheel gets tighter feeling you clench around his fingers.
"M'mmm–ah! Need, n-need you!" You're wrist encouraging him to keep hitting into you with that rhythm that makes you feel so fucking good you feel like you're about to squirt all over his expensive leather seats with his initials sowed in gold.
"Gonna cum! Ha– Oh f-ffuck Chan please!" You whine out. "Do it, show me how much you love being channie's little slut." With his words you do just that, you're legs shut his wrist in grinding into his palm as he continues to curl his fingers in and out of you to make you feel overwhelmed by the pleasure washing over you.
"Couldn't even keep it in? Came all over my seats," Chan says firmly finally pulling over. "Since you already got them dirty you're punishment is to give me another." All you hear is a seat belt unbuckle and his hands are on you instantly.
drabble — chan can pretty much take everything, but not his ego.
You were insatiable.
That was the first thing Chan learned about you when you started dating, and months later it still left him breathless, addicted, and occasionally wrecked. No matter how many times he made you cum—on his tongue, his fingers, his cock—you always came back for more, eyes dark and body already humming with fresh need. Some nights you’d pounce the second he walked through the door, dropping to your knees before he could even set his bag down. Other nights you’d ride him for hours until sweat slicked both your bodies and his voice went hoarse from groaning your name.
He loved it. Most of the time.
Tonight, though, he was exhausted. You've been all over him for the rest of the day, that leaves him exhausted and dried. Too much for him to mive anymore.
Chan was sprawled on the couch in nothing but gray sweatpants, one arm slung behind his head, the other lazily curled around you as some action movie played on the TV. His thumb idly stroked your thigh, half-distracted. You were already worked up, again, pressing hot little kisses along his neck, guiding his free hand between your legs.
You weren’t wearing panties.
Two of his fingers sank easily into your soaked cunt, curling just the way you liked. You moaned softly against his skin, rocking your hips, chasing the friction. He pumped them steadily, thumb circling your clit, but his eyes stayed on the screen. You rode his hand harder, breath hitching, thighs trembling as you came with a quiet gasp.
But you didn't stop from riding his fingers, relentless amd desperate to reach another one of those orgasm he could give you. Once, twice, thrice more. But it wasn't enough. Of course, it wasn't enough. It won't be enough for you, Chan knowsbthat already, so eventhough his wrists aches from koving the same action over and over again, he still does everything he could to at least make you feel good, despite being exhausted.
So imagine his shock when suddenly you sat up, flushed and glassy-eyed, and kissed him once—deep and filthy—before pulling back away from him. Chest heaving up and down, that expression on your face he knows very well.
"You know how much I love you, yeah?" You hummed against his lips, although confused, Chan nodded his head.
"Great, so you wouldn't mind if I slip on our room and take care of myself? I love you, I really really do, but your hands doesn't do much for me right now. I needed something more. I promise, I'll be quick."
Chan blinked, a little dazed as you slipped off the couch and disappeared into your shared bedroom. The door clicked shut.
At first he just shrugged it off, adjusting his hardening cock in his sweats, as much as he wanted to help you out, his whole body is already aching. You were insatiable, yeah, but you’d come back. You always did.
Then he heard it.
The low, familiar buzz of your vibrator. Followed by your moan—loud, shameless, unrestrained.
Chan’s jaw tightened. Another moan, higher this time, and the wet, rhythmic sound of you fucking yourself with your toys. He could picture it perfectly; legs spread wide on the bed, one hand pinching your nipple while the other worked that thick silicone cock in and out of your dripping pussy, the vibrator pressed hard against your clit.
His ego took the hit like a punch to the gut.
What the fuck? After everything he gave you? Hours of him buried inside you, making you scream until your throat was raw, you still needed toys to feel satisfied? His hand wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough?
The vibrator’s intensity kicked up. Your moans turned into desperate, broken whimpers.
Something in Chan snapped.
He stood up fast, exhaustion vanished from him, replaced by fury. He felt his ego wounded, and stormed down the hall. He didn’t even knock. The door flew open.
You were exactly as he’d imagined. Naked, legs splayed obscenely, one of your thick dildos stretching your pussy while the vibrator buzzed mercilessly against your swollen clit. Your eyes flew open when he entered, lips parted on a moan.
"What— Chan!"
He was on you before you could finish his name. He ripped the toys away and tossed them aside with a clatter. You gasped as he shoved you flat on your back, yanking your thighs apart roughly. His sweats were shoved down just enough to free his aching cock—hard, flushed dark, leaking at the tip.
“Chan!” you shrieked.
“You think those silicone pieces of shit can fuck you better than me?” His voice was low, dangerous, all the usual softness gone. He lined himself up and slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
You cried out, back arching sharply. He was thicker than any toy, and the sudden stretch burned so good.
Chan didn’t give you time to adjust. He fucked you like he was punishing you, deep, punishing strokes that made the bed creak and your tits bounce. One hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.
“Hours,” he growled against your ear, hips snapping relentlessly. “I fuck you for hours and you still sneak off to let toys stretch this greedy little cunt? You're a disgusting whore.”
You could barely speak, only moan and sob his name as he railed you. Every thrust dragged against that perfect spot inside you, brutal and precise. He was so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
He pulled out suddenly, flipped you onto your stomach, and your hips up. He mounted you again, fucking you even harder from behind, one hand fisting your hair.
“Tell me,” he demanded, voice rough. “Tell me those toys will never be enough again.”
“It won’t—ahh—fuck, Chan—!” you cried, pushing back to meet his thrusts.
He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight, mean circles. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, walls clamping down around his cock so hard he groaned. But he didn’t stop. He fucked you straight through it, chasing his own release while you shook and drooled into the sheets.
When he came, it was with a guttural moan, burying himself as deep as possible and flooding you with hot, thick spurts. He stayed inside you, grinding slow and possessive, making sure every drop stayed right where it belonged.
He finally let go of your body after what felt like an eternity, collapsing beside you with a heavy, satisfied groan. His chest heaved, skin glistening with sweat, cock still twitching from the force of his release.
The second his grip loosened, you rolled onto your back, smiling up at the ceiling with hazy, half-lidded eyes. Your body was trembling, thighs sticky with his cum and your own arousal, but the lazy, blissed-out grin on your face said everything.
“I didn’t know you could do that…” you murmured dreamily, voice hoarse and dazed, still floating in the afterglow.
Chan froze. A deep flush crawled up his neck and across his cheeks. He groaned in pure embarrassment, throwing one arm over his face as he turned his head into the pillow.
“Shut up,” he muttered, voice muffled and mortified, though you could hear the hint of a shy laugh in it.
You let out a weak, satisfied laugh, your fingers lazily threading through his damp hair.
“Baby… that was so hot,” you whispered, still smiling dreamily. “I think I need you to get jealous of my toys more often.”
Chan groaned again, louder this time, his arm wrapped around your waist as he bury his face on your neck.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mumbled to which made you giggle again and maybe let him rest for now because honestly, the exhaustion is starting to come over you now.
a/n: hi! hey, so i promise i am currently taking a rest. But after reading certain jjk fic i just had to do a similar thing to it. this was very much inspired to that sukuna smut i read that i forgot to save. i thought i shared it but turns out i didn't. please, if you know what fic i am talking about please tag the author so i could credit them properly. ANYWAYS. Just dropping this off and then see you all once i completely recovered. LOVE LOTS <333
