≔ ⋆⟢ — pairing: (orca-hybrid) bang chan x (caretaker) female reader
◟ word count: 796
⬩➤ 【 warning 】 ᝰ. hybrid au and not proofread
Today was strangely busy. Not that it meant that any of the other days that you work weren’t, but the workload you had today felt a lot heavier. Though it’s nothing you can’t handle, just a bit annoying. You had to attend, physically be present, within a variety of staff meetings that lecture on and on about productivity. No one in there, especially your fellow caretakers bothered to remember what is being said by the head since it's always the same thing being spouted out. After getting all those long meetings done and over with, you had to meet with your supervisors at the appointed time. When it came time for your turn to enter their office, you had to give them a whole run down about your monthly reports– simply explaining the status of each hybrid you are taking care of.
The report only took about two and a half hours as you stood in front of your supervisor's desk while they sat back in their chairs, listening to every single word you had to say. Once you finished, you were excused. Even then, you weren’t done with work, you had to make your way back to your tiny cramped office to do some administration work, file some paperwork, approve of a junior’s report, and so on. You were so locked in to finish everything that you completely lost track of time. By the time you peeled your eyes off the glowing white screen, you were surprised to see how late into the night you worked without a break in between.
Cracking your door open, the halls fell silent, actually the entire building was silent since almost everyone had practically clocked out to go home. However, that’s not the case for you or the other caretakers who work here, all of you live within the building in separate dorms that the company provides. It’s nothing fancy, but you all make it work to be cozy and liveable. You thought about heading back to your dorm, yet thought about going elsewhere instead. You’ve been so busy the entire day that you didn’t get a chance to visit any of the tanks.
“Just a quick visit.” You told yourself as you opened the enormous metal freezer that held blocks of frozen fish and ice in buckets. “This should do? I hope.”
With a full bucket of frozen fish and ice, you slowly made your way to sector 143 to tank CB97. The scanner beeps out and glows green after you press your ID card on top of it. Now that the door is open, you enter cautiously to stop yourself from slipping before closing it behind you by kicking it.
“Channie? Binnie? Jisungie?” You call out curiously, hearing how your voice bounces off the tiled walls as your eyes adjust to the dimly lit room.
They don’t respond, not yet at least. So you walked towards the edge where you sat down, dipping your feet into the water to make a couple of gentle splashes in the water. That’s usually how you let them know that it’s you. It didn’t take long for one of them to respond, seeing a massive figure come swimming your way.
“Y/N?” Chan said as he surfaces, swimming even closer to you where both his strong muscular arms wrap around your waist as he snuggles into your stomach. “Where have you been? I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Channie.” You chuckled, running your fingers through his silky hair. “Where’s Binnie and Jisungie?”
“Wow! You’ve been gone all day and this is the first time you see me and now you ask about Binnie and Jisungie?” He sulks, yet refuses to move away from you.
“I’m sorry, Channie. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“You better not. But they’re currently sleeping in the cave down there, Jisungie is busy cuddling Binnie and Binnie is doing his best not to peel him off.”
“Pft hehehe…” You hid your snicker behind your hand as you drag the bucket to your side. “Here, I got you a snack.”
“Ooh! My favorite!” Chan exclaims but stops himself from grabbing them.
“What’s wrong?”
“Feed me?” He pleads in a pout, bottom lip sticking out and eyes rounded innocently.
“Really Channie? You're not a calf.”
“Hmph! So you don’t love me.”
“You want me to feed you that bad?”
“So you can stay here longer!” He looks back at you excitedly.
You sighed, but gladly took up his request, “Fine, say ahh?”
“Ahh!”
Then you dropped some ice and frozen fish into his mouth, then closed his jaw when he saw you removed your hand out of harm's way.
“Mmmmm!” He hums out delightedly, opening his mouth back up to do the same thing. “Ahh?”
“You are here and so am I, maybe millions of people go by but they all disappear from view and I only have eyes for you” -The Flamingos
A/N: I'm back after being MIA for ages, life has quite literally been a roller coaster but I’ve finally had the energy and motivation to finish this draft >_<!
Being with Chan just... makes sense. It’s the kind of comfort that’s hard to put into words, but you feel it in your bones. It’s like finally finding a rhythm that works. Dating him feels like that first real breath of summer air on your skin, or the way your body finally stops shaking the second you step into a warm house after being out in the freezing cold. It’s as soothing as a mug of tea when your throat is raw—it’s just the relief you didn't know you were desperate for.
He doesn’t just "care" for you; he’s completely devoted. If you’re even a little bit under the weather ,your nose stuffed, eyes puffy, feeling like a total mess ,he’s right there and gets this frantic, worried look in his eyes, fussing over the blankets and the temperature of your soup like it’s a life-or-death situation. Even though he’s seen you get through a cold a dozen times, he still handles you like you’re the most fragile, precious thing in the world.
But loving someone like him comes with a price. It’s the "idol tax" you never wanted to pay. He’s brilliant, he’s talented, and he’s honestly too handsome for his own good.
You try to be the "chill" partner. You tell yourself you’re overreacting and that your brain is just being dramatic. You know, logically, that his heart is yours—he makes sure to tell you that every single day. But logic doesn’t stop those itchy, nauseating thoughts from creeping in when the house is quiet and he’s at the studio.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but you’ve always known that "fan service" is just part of the job description. It’s a performance designed to feed the fantasies of people who hope for a one-in-a-million shot at him. Usually, you can brush it off, but lately, the performance has started feeling a little too real.
You aren't a hater,you’re actually grateful for the fans. You see how they boost his confidence and how much he genuinely loves their support. But let's be honest—who wouldn't feel a little sick to their stomach watching thousands of attractive people worship the man you go home to?
The shift really happened after the last tour. The explosion in their popularity was incredible, but it meant your "secret" boyfriend was now being shared with millions more people. More eyes, more fan events, more moments where he belongs to the world and not to you.
You’ve seen the clips. You’ve scrolled past the edits of him leaning in close to a fan, flirting back, holding their hands, and blushing at their compliments. Logically, you know it’s a script. You know it’s his job to make them feel special. But seeing a line of stunning people shooting their best shot with your man makes you feel incredibly small. It’s hard to feel like the "only one" when the internet is filled with videos of him giving that same intense, melting gaze to a stranger in the front row.
The "itchy" feeling turned into a dull ache during his most recent live stream. He was reading comments, his face lit up by the glow of the screen, laughing at a suggestive joke a fan made. He handled it with his usual grace, but the way he bit his lip and looked away,a habit you thought was reserved for your private moments sent a jolt of genuine physical nausea through you.
That night, when he finally crept into bed, smelling like the studio and exhaustion, he reached for you in the dark. His touch was familiar and warm, but for the first time, you found yourself stiffening.
"You okay?" he whispered, his voice thick with sleep. "You're all tense."
The words were right there, hovering on the tip of your tongue.”No,I saw the fansign clips, Chan. I saw how you looked at your fans and I HATE it”. But how do you tell the man who literally worships you that you’re jealous of a ghost?
You felt the mattress shift as he propped himself up. Even without looking, you knew he was wearing that look—the one where his brows were pinched and his entire focus was anchored on you.
"You’re doing it again," he whispered, his voice raspy with exhaustion but laced with that steady, calm patience. He reached out, his thumb catching a stray tear you didn’t even realize had escaped. "I can practically hear your brain working from here. Talk to me. What happened?"
"Nothing, Chan. It’s late," you mumbled, pulling the blanket up to your chin. "You’re exhausted. Just sleep."
"I’m not going to sleep while you’re lying three inches away from me feeling like this," he countered. He moved closer, his warmth seeping through the duvet. "I know that tone. It’s the one you get when you’ve been scrolling too long. Did you see something? Did someone say something mean to you?"
The fact that his first instinct was to protect you—to assume someone else had hurt you—was the breaking point. You rolled over to face him, the frustration finally bubbling over.
"It wasn't a comment, Chan. It was you."
He flinched, just a tiny bit, his hand hovering near your cheek. "Me?"
"I saw the clips," you said, your voice shaking. "The fansign edits. The livestream from today. I know it’s the job. I know you have to be 'Bang Chan' the idol. But I’m the one who has to hide in the kitchen when you take a work call. I’m the one who has to stay five paces behind you in public. And then I see you holding hands with strangers, blushing at their jokes, and giving them that... that look."
You took a shaky breath, the "itchy" feeling in your chest turning into a sharp ache.
"You bit your lip, Chan. The exact same way you do when we’re just hanging out here. It’s like you’re giving away pieces of us to anyone who pays for a ticket. It makes me feel... small. Like I’m just the girl who gets the tired, stressed version of you, while they get the version that treats them like they're the only person in the world."
Chan didn't say anything for a long moment and just sat there, the weight of your words hanging between you like a physical wall. When he finally spoke, his voice was defensive, though it lacked any real bite,he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself as much as you.
"It’s... it’s just the fans, baby," he started, his hands moving restlessly over the duvet. "You know how it is. It’s a role. When I’m there, I have to be what they need me to be. If I’m cold or if I don’t lean in, I’m 'ungrateful' or 'tired.' It’s all just... part of the machine. The hand-holding, the eye contact—it’s muscle memory at this point. It doesn’t mean anything."
He looked at you, searching for a flicker of understanding, but your expression didn't soften.
"The lip-biting thing," he continued, his pace quickening as he tried to find the right words to fix it. "I don't even realize I’m doing it. It’s just a habit. It’s not like I’m thinking about it or trying to be intimate with them. It’s just 'Bang Chan'—the version of me that belongs to the company. I'm trying to keep the lights on, to keep the group going. I have to play the part."
But as the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize how hollow they sounded compared to the tears in your eyes. He saw the way you flinched when he called it a "part," because to you, those were the same gestures he used to tell you he loved you.
The defensive tension drained out of him all at once. He slumped, looking less like the world-class leader and more like a man who realized he’d accidentally stepped on something precious.
"I’m an idiot," he whispered, the justification dying in his throat. He reached out again, this time more tentatively, waiting for you to let him touch you. When you didn't pull away, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you so tightly it was like he was trying to merge your bodies.
"I’m so sorry," he mumbled into your hair, his voice muffled and thick. "I get so caught up in the 'job' and the 'performance' that I forget how it looks to the person who actually knows the real me. I'm so focused on making sure the world loves the group that I’m being careless with the one person whose love actually matters."
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze intense and remarkably clear.
"They get the 'version,' yeah. They get the three-minute interaction and the edited clip. But they don't get this. They don't get the person who stays up late worrying about them. They don't get to see me when the makeup is off and I’m falling apart. That 'look' I give them? It’s a mirror. I’m reflecting what they want to see. But when I look at you..."
He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long beat.
"When I look at you, I’m not performing. I’m home. I’ll be more careful, I promise. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re just one of a million, because you’re the only one I’m actually coming home to."
He didn't wait for you to answer. He reached out, his large hand cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your lower lip with a desperate sort of reverence. When he leaned in, it wasn't the tentative, careful kiss of a first date; it was the kiss of someone who was terrified of losing his gravity.
The initial contact was hard, a hungry, breathless collision that spoke of everything he couldn’t put into words—the guilt, the possessiveness, and the sheer relief that you were still there, in his arms, where he needed you. It was a deep, grounding pressure, his lips moving against yours with a frantic intensity as if he were trying to memorize the very feel of you to drown out the noise of the rest of the world.
≔ ⋆⟢ — pairing: (orca-hybrid) bang chan x (caretaker) female reader
◟ word count: 796
⬩➤ 【 warning 】 ᝰ. hybrid au and not proofread
Today was strangely busy. Not that it meant that any of the other days that you work weren’t, but the workload you had today felt a lot heavier. Though it’s nothing you can’t handle, just a bit annoying. You had to attend, physically be present, within a variety of staff meetings that lecture on and on about productivity. No one in there, especially your fellow caretakers bothered to remember what is being said by the head since it's always the same thing being spouted out. After getting all those long meetings done and over with, you had to meet with your supervisors at the appointed time. When it came time for your turn to enter their office, you had to give them a whole run down about your monthly reports– simply explaining the status of each hybrid you are taking care of.
The report only took about two and a half hours as you stood in front of your supervisor's desk while they sat back in their chairs, listening to every single word you had to say. Once you finished, you were excused. Even then, you weren’t done with work, you had to make your way back to your tiny cramped office to do some administration work, file some paperwork, approve of a junior’s report, and so on. You were so locked in to finish everything that you completely lost track of time. By the time you peeled your eyes off the glowing white screen, you were surprised to see how late into the night you worked without a break in between.
Cracking your door open, the halls fell silent, actually the entire building was silent since almost everyone had practically clocked out to go home. However, that’s not the case for you or the other caretakers who work here, all of you live within the building in separate dorms that the company provides. It’s nothing fancy, but you all make it work to be cozy and liveable. You thought about heading back to your dorm, yet thought about going elsewhere instead. You’ve been so busy the entire day that you didn’t get a chance to visit any of the tanks.
“Just a quick visit.” You told yourself as you opened the enormous metal freezer that held blocks of frozen fish and ice in buckets. “This should do? I hope.”
With a full bucket of frozen fish and ice, you slowly made your way to sector 143 to tank CB97. The scanner beeps out and glows green after you press your ID card on top of it. Now that the door is open, you enter cautiously to stop yourself from slipping before closing it behind you by kicking it.
“Channie? Binnie? Jisungie?” You call out curiously, hearing how your voice bounces off the tiled walls as your eyes adjust to the dimly lit room.
They don’t respond, not yet at least. So you walked towards the edge where you sat down, dipping your feet into the water to make a couple of gentle splashes in the water. That’s usually how you let them know that it’s you. It didn’t take long for one of them to respond, seeing a massive figure come swimming your way.
“Y/N?” Chan said as he surfaces, swimming even closer to you where both his strong muscular arms wrap around your waist as he snuggles into your stomach. “Where have you been? I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Channie.” You chuckled, running your fingers through his silky hair. “Where’s Binnie and Jisungie?”
“Wow! You’ve been gone all day and this is the first time you see me and now you ask about Binnie and Jisungie?” He sulks, yet refuses to move away from you.
“I’m sorry, Channie. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“You better not. But they’re currently sleeping in the cave down there, Jisungie is busy cuddling Binnie and Binnie is doing his best not to peel him off.”
“Pft hehehe…” You hid your snicker behind your hand as you drag the bucket to your side. “Here, I got you a snack.”
“Ooh! My favorite!” Chan exclaims but stops himself from grabbing them.
“What’s wrong?”
“Feed me?” He pleads in a pout, bottom lip sticking out and eyes rounded innocently.
“Really Channie? You're not a calf.”
“Hmph! So you don’t love me.”
“You want me to feed you that bad?”
“So you can stay here longer!” He looks back at you excitedly.
You sighed, but gladly took up his request, “Fine, say ahh?”
“Ahh!”
Then you dropped some ice and frozen fish into his mouth, then closed his jaw when he saw you removed your hand out of harm's way.
“Mmmmm!” He hums out delightedly, opening his mouth back up to do the same thing. “Ahh?”
WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content including thigh fucking vaginal penetration creampie oral elements (finger sucking) light dominance use of underwear as restraint dirty talk
Only for adults (18+). If any of this is offensive to you or if you're under 18, please don't view it! All based on fictional events, none of this is real.
It was one of those quiet nights you loved so much, curled up on the couch next to Chan, with the glow from the screen lighting up the room. You’d been together for a couple of years now, and the trust between you was like a cozy blanket: it covered everything, from silly laughter to the most intense nights. You’d explored almost everything imaginable in bed, but even so, Chan had a way of getting nervous about certain things, as if he were asking permission for something forbidden.
You were pressed close together, his arm wrapped around you from behind while his fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your short pajama bottoms. Every now and then, his hand would slide down a little further, brushing the skin of your thigh with a light caress that made you smile. You, with a bowl of popcorn on your lap, were engrossed in the show, occasionally commenting on the latest twist in the episode. The next episode began to load, and that’s when Chan cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Hey, love…” he began, his voice a little lower than usual, as if he were weighing every word. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
You turned toward him, setting the popcorn aside and giving him your full attention. His eyes avoided yours for a second, and you noticed how his hand paused on your thigh, as if he were gathering courage.
“Sure, tell me. What is it?” you asked, curious, with a soft smile.
Chan shifted a little on the couch, staring straight ahead as if the screen held the answers.
“Well, it’s just… I’ve been thinking about something. You know, something I’d like to try… in bed. With you. Um… I don’t know exactly how to put it.”
You couldn't help it: a little giggle escaped you. You'd been together for years, sharing all kinds of intimate moments, and yet there he was, stuttering like a teenager on his first date.
“Chan, seriously, is it still that hard for you to ask me? We're like an open book to each other!”
He frowned, feigning indignation, but his cheeks flushed a subtle red.
“Don’t make fun of me! You know I’m like this with these things. It makes me… I don’t know, embarrassed.”
That only made you laugh harder, covering your mouth with your hand.
—Come on! This morning you were... well, you know, shoving it all the way down my throat, and now you’re acting shy? Seriously?
Chan let out an exaggerated groan and gently pushed you away, crossing his arms over his chest as if he were genuinely offended. He covered his face with his hands, and you could see the tips of his ears turning red as tomatoes. It was adorable, that contrast in him: the sweetest, most affectionate boyfriend in the world, the one who pampered you with hugs and soft kisses, but who in bed could be rough, tie you up, whisper things that would make anyone who knew him only on the surface blush. And then there was this version of him, the one who got nervous just talking about sex.
Still smiling, you leaned toward him and gently removed his hands from his face.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Seriously, I won’t laugh anymore. Tell me what you want to try. I promise I’ll listen.”
He slowly lowered his hands, looking at you suspiciously, as if he expected you to burst out laughing again. Seeing that you were serious, he sighed and started fidgeting with his fingernails on his lap, a nervous tic that always came out when he was unsure.
—Okay... It’s just... I want to try something different. Masturbating... with you.
You furrowed your brow slightly, intrigued.
“Masturbate together, you mean? Like, mutually?”
“No, not exactly” he murmured, scratching the back of his neck, his ears still a little red. “More like… using your body to masturbate myself. You know, without actually… fucking you. Just… that.”
He blurted it out, as if afraid he’d regret it, and then looked up at you, waiting for your reaction. You blinked, processing it.
“Wow…” you said, dragging out the word a bit, just to make him wait. Inside, the idea was already turning you on, imagining what it would be like, but you wanted to tease him a little more.
Chan bit his lip, nervous.
“What? Does it seem weird to you? If you don’t want to, it’s fine...”
You smiled, shaking your head.
“Of course I do! I love the idea. In fact, now I’m looking forward to trying it. It sounds... exciting.”
Sus ojos se iluminaron, pero aún parecía un poco inseguro, como si necesitara más confirmación.
“Really? Do you like the idea? Are you sure? I don’t want you to do it just to please me…”
You couldn’t help but laugh again, this time softly and affectionately, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
—Chan, seriously, doing anything with you turns me on. How could I not be sure? It’s you, my love. Everything we do together turns me on.
He let out a nervous chuckle, finally relaxing, and wrapped his arm around you again, pulling you against his chest.
—Okay, then... great. It makes me happy that you feel that way.
But that night, things didn’t go beyond conversation. You went back to the show, with his arm around you again, and the air between you thick with a subtle anticipation. You knew the moment would come soon, and the thought made your stomach flutter. That was Chan: he planned, he waited, and when he did, it was unforgettable.
A couple of nights later, routine had led you back to bed. It was one of those quiet moments at the end of the day: you were lying back against the pillows, your Kindle in your hands, completely absorbed in the story you were reading. It was one of those novels that really hooked you, with twists you didn’t see coming, and you couldn’t put it down. Chan, for his part, was by your side, working for a while on his laptop, typing with that concentration of his that you always found sexy. The soft light from the night lamp illuminated the room, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere.
At some point, you heard him close his laptop with a soft click and set it down on the nightstand. You didn’t pay much attention; you were in the middle of an intense chapter. But then, you felt the mattress sink a little as he moved closer to you, his warm body pressing against yours. His fingers began tracing gentle patterns on the inside of your thighs, moving slowly upward, brushing the sensitive skin near your center. It was a light caress, almost playful, but with a purpose you were beginning to vaguely sense.
“What? Is it really interesting?” he asked in a casual voice, as if commenting on the weather, while his fingers continued to explore, moving a little higher.
You, still engrossed in the book, replied distractedly, without taking your eyes off the screen.
“Uh-huh…”
Chan let out a low chuckle, that hoarse sound that always did something to your stomach, but he didn’t stop. His caresses became a little more insistent, sliding down your thighs until they reached your hip. He slipped his hand under the T-shirt you were wearing—one of his, big and comfortable, that always smelled like him and that you wore to sleep because it made you feel wrapped in his scent. Chan loved seeing you in them; he said they fit you perfectly, as if they were made just for you. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, moving up your side, brushing your bare skin with a deliberate slowness that was starting to distract you, even though you tried to ignore it.
You didn’t realize at first just how turned on he was. Chan had been thinking about that idea ever since the night on the couch, and the mere anticipation had him on the edge. Without saying a word, he pulled his boxers down a little, freeing his already hard member. He brushed it against the outside of your thigh—a soft, warm touch that made you blink, but you hadn’t quite processed it yet. You were so focused on the book that it all seemed like part of a casual game, just like so many other nights.
“Baby, turn around a little” he murmured, his voice a bit deeper now, with a hint of urgency that finally snapped you out of your bubble.
You didn’t have time to respond; his hand rested on your hip, guiding you gently but firmly so you’d turn on your side, with your back to him. The movement was smooth, almost as if he were positioning you for a hug, but there was something else in the air. You looked over your shoulder, still holding the Kindle, with a confused expression.
“Chan… what?”
“Keep reading” he said, cutting you off with a smile in his voice, though you couldn’t see his face fully. “Just let me… do this. Trust me.”
In your mind, the conversation from a few nights ago didn’t cross your mind for a second; you were too immersed in your fictional world. But you listened to him, because it was Chan, and there was always something exciting about letting him take control. You tried to refocus on the words on the screen, but it was getting harder and harder. Chan pressed closer to you from behind, his hot body against yours. You felt his cock slide between your thighs, pressing them together lightly to create friction. He began to move slowly, a gentle back-and-forth motion that made his length slide against your skin, brushing the inside of your thighs with every thrust.
Your body reacted instantly, a familiar warmth beginning to build in your lower abdomen. There was no way to ignore it now; the touch was intimate, insistent, and you could feel his hand resting on your waist, gripping you to help him move. It was as if he were fucking your thighs, but without haste, prolonging every movement. And what turned you on the most were his low moans, those muffled sounds escaping his lips near your ear, hoarse and full of contained pleasure. “Mmm…,” he murmured, as if savoring every second.
The heat between your legs grew, your arousal beginning to make you wet. Chan noticed the change, of course; his movements became a little more deliberate. With one hand, he gently lifted your upper leg, opening you up a little more for a new angle. Now, with your legs apart, he could position himself better. The head of his cock began to brush against your entrance, sliding over the fabric of your panties, tracing lines of fire through the wetness already pooling there. He wasn’t penetrating you, just pressing hard enough to feel you, to soak up your juices that made every slide easier.
“God, you’re so wet…” he whispered, his voice broken by a low moan. He kept it up for a while, pressing only the tip against the fabric, creating more friction and more wetness. It was delicious torture; you could feel your body responding, your hips instinctively shifting slightly to meet him, even as you tried to stay still.
Finally, Chan gently lifted the waistband of your panties, sliding his cock underneath them. The fabric stretched tight against its length, trapping it against your damp skin. He let go of the elastic and began moving again, now with more audible moans, his breath quickening against your neck. His cock became completely soaked with your fluids, sliding in easily as he watched, fascinated, as his member disappeared and reappeared beneath the fabric. Every now and then, he’d brush the head against your entrance, pressing right at the edge without entering, making you gasp. It was agony for both of you—you wanted more, he wanted to prolong it—but Chan was enjoying it too much, his eyes fixed on the spectacle you were creating together.
He couldn’t hold that position any longer. With a fluid motion, he rolled you onto your back, positioning you beneath him as he settled on top. His eyes met yours: your face was flushed, your eyes shining with that mix of surprise and desire. He looked down at your panties, now visibly wet, and let out a sigh of pure pleasure, as if the sight were driving him wild.
He caressed your cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing your lips.
“You’re being such a good girl… letting me use you like this” he murmured, his voice hoarse and full of admiration.
Before you could answer, he slipped his thumb into your mouth. You sucked on it instinctively, wrapping your tongue around it, which made him moan louder, his hips trembling slightly.
“Spread your legs wide for me, babe” he asked, his tone dominant yet gentle.
You obeyed, spreading your legs as he took one of them in his hand, holding it high to expose you further. With his other hand, he guided his cock, running it over your panties, rubbing its length against the damp fabric. The friction was intense, every stroke sending waves of pleasure through you, making you moan around his finger. Your panties were soaked now, the fabric sticking to your skin, and Chan couldn’t help but comment on it.
“Do you like this that much?” he asked with a playful smile, though his voice was strained by the effort to control himself. “Look at you, all wet for me...”
He moved the elastic of your panties again, sliding his cock underneath once more. He let go, now holding your other leg as well, keeping you open for him. He started moving again, rubbing against you with slow, deep thrusts. You were so turned on, so slippery, that he slid in easily, his cock pressing against your entrance without fully entering. You looked down, mesmerized, and saw how the head of his cock peeked out from the fabric of your panties with every forward movement, stretching it, creating an erotic image that made you gasp.
Chan continued like this for a while longer, prolonging the pleasure, his moans turning into low growls as he watched. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore; he pulled his cock out from under your panties and took it in his hand, jerking off quickly on top of you. His eyes never left yours, and with one last hoarse moan, he came, spilling his release onto the soaked fabric of your panties, marking you with sticky heat.
Chan couldn't take his eyes off it, mesmerized by the sight: your panties, already soaked with your fluids, now covered in white streaks of his semen, dripping and spreading across the fabric. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he took in the moment. Then he looked up at you, a satisfied, tender smile spreading across his face.
“That was incredible, love… Thank you for letting me do this” he murmured, leaning over you to give you a soft kiss on the lips, one of those kisses that said more than words, full of gratitude and affection.
But Chan, being the attentive and generous boyfriend that he was, wasn’t going to leave you like that, all aroused and unsatisfied. He knew what you’d done for him, and he wanted to return the favor.
“You’ve been such a good girl to me… now it’s your turn to enjoy yourself” he said, his voice still hoarse from the orgasm, but with a playful and determined tone.
You tried to protest, shaking your head as you caught your breath.
“No, Chan, it’s okay… Don’t worry, really. I’m fine like this.”
He ignored you completely, with that mischievous smile that indicated he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He took his cock, which was still semi-hard—the excitement of the whole situation kept it in that state, ready for more—and slowly ran it over your panties, smearing his semen against the damp fabric and mixing it with your juices. The friction was slippery, sticky, and made you gasp, your body responding despite your words. Chan watched every movement, mesmerized, as if he were painting a picture with your shared fluids.
When he seemed satisfied with that, he gently pulled the elastic of your panties aside, exposing your vagina completely. It was glistening, shining with how wet you were, your lips swollen and ready, and Chan’s mouth watered at the sight. His cock hardened completely again, throbbing in his hand as he ran it over your center, sliding it up and down, spreading the remnants of semen and your fluids all over the area. It was a torturous, slow caress that made you arch your back slightly, moaning softly at the sensitivity.
“God, look how you’re glowing… So ready for me” he whispered, his voice full of admiration and renewed desire. He continued like that for a moment longer, tracing patterns with the head of his cock, covering you completely in that intimate mixture, until he finally moved down to your entrance. He penetrated you gently, unhurriedly, inch by inch, allowing both of you to feel every inch. You both moaned in unison: you, for the fullness you had longed for so much; he, for the tight heat that enveloped him.
He slid in with total ease, thanks to how wet you were, but instinctively you squeezed him tight, as if giving him the welcome you’d been longing for from the start. Chan let out a low growl, his hips pausing for a second to savor it.
“Fuck, baby… You’re squeezing me so tight… Have you been wanting this all this time?” he asked, his voice breaking as he began to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, a slow, deep rhythm that made you see stars.
He kept going like that, thrusting with a deliberate cadence, his hands on your hips to guide you, leaning down to kiss your neck and whisper praise to you.
“You’re perfect… So wet, so tight… I can’t believe how good you feel” he murmured between moans, gradually picking up the pace, his movements becoming smoother, more intense. You responded with your own hips, meeting him with every thrust, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, mingling with your gasps. The feel of his cock inside you, combined with the residual friction of your fluids, was slowly bringing you to the edge, each thrust sending waves of pleasure building up in your core.
But Chan wanted more; he wanted to push you to the limit in the way he knew drove you wild. With an expert movement, he pulled out of you for a moment—making you moan in protest—and turned you around, positioning you on all fours on the bed. You instinctively arched your back, and he positioned himself behind you, admiring the view: your panties still askew, soaked and marked with his semen, your ass raised and ready. He grabbed the elastic of your panties with one hand, pulling them tight like an anchor, using them to hold you in place as he positioned himself again.
He entered you in one fluid motion, deeper now at this angle, and you both let out a guttural moan. His thrusts grew harder, faster, the tugging of your panties adding an extra layer of dominance that excited you even more.
“Like that… Take all of me” he growled, his free hand on your hip to propel himself, slamming hard into you. The sound of his hips slamming against your ass was hypnotic, and you felt him tugging at your panties with every thrust, stretching the fabric against your sensitive skin, mixing pleasure with a touch of delicious pain.
Chan wasn’t holding back now; his movements were powerful, deep, hitting that spot inside you that made you tremble. Every now and then, he’d let go of your panties to give your butt a light slap, only to grab them again, anchoring himself as he fucked you with everything he had. You pushed back, meeting him, your moans turning into incoherent pleas.
“Chan… more… please” you gasped, the pleasure building until it finally exploded, your orgasm crashing over you in intense waves as you clung tightly to him while you came all over him.
He followed shortly after, one last powerful thrust before coming inside you with a hoarse moan, filling you completely. Finally, he collapsed onto your back, both of you panting, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms for an exhausted, tender embrace.
Disclaimer: All content on this blog is fictional. Any characters, scenarios, or portrayals of real people are created for storytelling and entertainment purposes only. They are not intended to represent real events, real personalities, or factual information about the individuals mentioned.
Also, English is not my native language. Please be kind and patient with any mistakes — I am doing my best 👉👈
Word count: 1187 words
Warnings: none
Morning cuddles: If he gets the chance to sleep in, he’d definitely use that time to cuddle up to you and prolong the peace in the morning. The feeling of your warm body against him, your scent, the way you calmly breathe in and out while still sleeping – it’s all these little things that make him content
Clinging onto you while you brush your teeth: He’d use every opportunity to feel your skin on his and this also applies in the bathroom. He’d lazily put one hand across your stomach while standing behind you, pressing you into him while brushing his teeth with the other one.
Making sure you’re hydrated and well fed: One of the first things in the morning he’d do is make sure that you drink at least a cup of water. “You’ve slept the whole night, your body needs to be hydrated”, he’d say. He’d check in temporarily throughout the day if you drank and ate enough. And if he found out that you didn’t he’d either make you some nutritious food or he’d make sure you have something delivered for you, when he's not home.
Side walk rule: Without any exception, he is always walking on the side of the sidewalk closer to the street.
He’d always make sure you’re warm.
You’re out and you left your jacket at home, because you thought you didn’t need it? He’d immediately take off his one and drape it over your shoulders, while rubbing your arms to create some extra heat. You’re still cold? Then he’d completely engulf you into his arms, cocooning you with them.
Your hands are cold? He’d take them in between his, rubbing them and blowing warm air. Then he’d put them into his jacket pockets, while still covering them with his own hands.
You’re In your apartment and cold even though the heater is on? He’d make you some tea and cover you in at least three blankets, before adding himself to this combo to warm you up
Your feet are cold in the night, even though you got socks on? He’d rub them before trapping them in between his legs until they are warmed up.
He’d always have the urge to touch you:
When you’re out, he’d always take your hand.
Having his hand on your lower back all the time, when you’re walking.
When you’re having dinner in a restaurant, he’d place his hand on your thigh.
The same when you’re driving around. One hand on the steering wheel and the other one on your thigh, alternating between slow circles and firmer squeezing
Always hugging you from behind when you’re standing, whether if it’s while you’re waiting in line for coffee or when you’re cooking something, he’d always seize the opportunity
He’d have that cute habit to tap his fingertips against yours whenever they are in his reach
Just because flowers: sometimes when he is out, he’d pass by some flowers and pick them, because they are pretty and they reminded him of you
Another cute habit: whenever he stands behind you, he’d always press his lips against your back, not really kissing it, but just for the sake of skinship
Lots of forehead kisses … LOTS
Sometimes the cuteness aggression would get the best of him and he’d attack you with kisses all over your face until you have a fit of laughter until you can’t breathe
Even though there would be a free chair, he’d insist for you to sit on his lap, there is no point in arguing. He’d spent the whole time nuzzling face into your neck inhaling the sweet scent of yours
He’d be a solid rock for you. When you don’t know what to do, he’d be there to listen to you and he’d give such good advices. When you’re down, he’d be the one to hold you for hours, while rubbing your back – calming you down
Also when you feel like the world is getting too heavy, he’d be there to make it easier
Lots of deep talk: This man is such a good listener and got so much to say
Lots of flirting from his side, but also pedaling back at the same time: He’d be so bold in one second and get incredibly shy the next – “stop flirting with me”
Carrying you when your heels kill your feet after a night out while also carrying said heels
He’d be the master of planning dates:
Candle light dinners
Driving up a to a quiet place, where you’d have an amazing view over the city, while sitting in the trunk of the car and having some food and wine
Cute Home dates, where he’d cook and put on a cozy movie while cuddling you
Stargazing dates
When time allows it, he’d take you on a little road trip, preferably along the coast and watching the sunset by the sea
When he’s got a lot of work to do in the studio, he’d invite you over and order some food, because your presence is the only thing that matters to him
Lots of dancing in the kitchen! Preferably playful bachata or slow dancing
When you are at the fair and there is a shooting booth, he’d try to win the prizes for you. Before shooting he’d say: “This is for you” and literally miss – but it’s ok, it’s the thought that counts
Sometimes, when he is passing you, he’d stick his hand into your back pocket, just to leave a little handwritten note to brighten up your day and get a little squeeze out of it
On slow mornings you’d climb on his lap and put your arms around his neck just to nuzzle your face into it while gently rocking you back and forth and humming a soft melody
When you’re holding hands and are about to separate, he’d squeeze your hand three times before bringing himself to actually let you go
Lots of Massages from his side. Every time he notices that you are a bit tense, he’d massage your shoulders to loosen up your muscles and this man is unbelievingly good at it
Lots of compliment – he’d use every opportunity to tell you the sweetest things, like you did so well today, I am so proud of you, you look so beautiful right now, I love your scent, you are so kindhearted, you are so cute
Hugs, hugs and again hugs: He always has to have his arms around you or else he’d combust
He’d know your skincare routine by heart. When you are too tired to do it yourself at night, he’d be the one to do it for you, because he knows how much you hate to go to bed with make up on
Always wearing his shirts and hoodies, cause they smell like him and he just loves seeing you in them
⋆˚࿔ᝰ.ᐟ cw: explicit sexual content, riding, dirty talk, top!chan, college AU, protected sex, degradation, fuck buddies, angst, slight oral, pet names, hair pulling, scratching, marking, biting, rough sex, fem!pov, reader x chan.
Summary: You and Chans are fuck buddies, "casual fucking" is what he calls it; he invites you to his dorm because he's lonely and misses you. You just wish you two were more.
WC: 1.2k
This work contains mature themes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
Why the fuck did you come over when Chan texted you he was lonely and bored? Only god knows. That's how you ended up at his dorm for the second time this week, fist hovering over the wood. It's not like you and Chan had anything going on if you could say that, you know, just the fucking each other ever so often with “no strings attached” vibes.
That's what he called it anyway. ‘Casual fucking’ is what he said when you would question him in a low voice, curled up in his chest, sweaty and tired. You shook your head, sighed, and knocked on his door, and Chan opened the door almost instantly. He was shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips. You could see his chrome heart boxers peaking out from the waistband.
“Come in.” He said, stepping aside, and you walked inside, closing the door behind you. His hands were on your waist almost immediately. His head dipped into your shoulder, and his hands pushed up your shirt.
“Missed you.” He hummed into the crook of your neck, pulling you against the planes of his chest. He smelled like his shampoo and the faint scent of weed.
Your hands slide into the damp strands of his hair, and he takes it as a sign to start kissing up your neck. Licking the faint dark spots still on your neck from the other day you came over. This is wrong. You kept telling yourself that even as he backed you onto the couch and your body slid into his lap.
Who were you for, only casual fucking and no real relationship tied into it? But Chan's body… it was sinful, like it was specially made only for your pleasure. He knew every spot and angle that made you scream in ecstasy. It was a drug. So addictive.
His hands slid up your thighs, thumbs brushing the inner part and rubbing small circles into the skin. His mouth connected with yours, and he groaned into your mouth. He pulled back a string of saliva connecting your lips. “More…” He rasped into your ear, and his finger hooked into the waistband of the shorts you were wearing. His already hard cock pressing firmly against your thigh.
You helped him slide them down your legs, one hand squeezed your hip, the other brushing the damp fabric of your panties. He locked eyes with you, a lust burning behind them. “Beg. Beg for me to let you ride on my cock.” He rasped, his hand sliding into the strands of your hair and tugging lightly. You moaned sharply, hips bucking into his hand, desperate for friction.
The hand on your hips squeezed tight, holding you in place. “Please chan… please let me ride you. I'll be so good for you.” You finally whined out, hand digging into his shoulder, definitely leaving marks.
He smirked, proud of himself, and hooked his thumb into your panties, pulling them down sharply. You gasped at the rush of cold air that hit the heated skin. Chan was already pushing his boxers down to free his thick, fully hard cock. He hissed lightly, stroking himself slowly a couple of times.
He dug into his sweatpants pocket, pulling out a condom and ripping it open with his teeth. You gasped lightly, and he glanced up at you, smirking playfully. He rolled the condom on and placed both of his hands on your hips.
“Now bounce on my cock like the good girl you are.” He rasped. You shifted on his lap to sink on his cock. His thickness stretched you with an addictive burn. You moaned softly, hand digging into his shoulder, leaving crescent-shaped marks.
He groaned, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. The wet thigh heat of you was so fucking good. He squeezed your hips, and you started slowly rolling your hips. He groaned, his head falling to your shoulder. “Faster,” he rasped, his hands guiding you to go faster.
You started rolling your hips faster, bouncing softly, soft cries and moans slipping out of your lips. It felt heavenly like he was made for you. If it wasnt already sinfully good, his hand reached to your lower back, pulling you sharply so his chest was pressed against yours. The new angle hit a deeper spot, and you cried out, nails scratching down his back.
He hissed, his hands moved to slip under your shirt, fingers brushing under your breast, and your nipples were already hard with pleasure. He rolled the nub in his fingers, and you moaned, squeezing around him.
“Fuck…” He growled, the sensation sending sparks flying up his spine. You knew you were close, and he did too. He could feel you squeezing around him. He was close too, his stomach, curling with that familiar heat. “Ah… shit…” He breathed.
He needed you to cum at the same time as him. His finger moved down your body to rub tight circles on your clit. You whined loudly. He moved to start planting kisses on your neck, biting down ever so often, soothing the sting with a lick.
“Cum… now.” He groaned in your ear, and with a shallow thrust into you, you broke. Your orgasm crashed over you heavy and sharp; you broke into a loud cry. Your whole body shuddered, and you saw stars at the edge of your vision.
Chan broke off at the same time. Spilling into the condom and biting down on your shoulder to quiet his loud moan. You both stayed in that position, breathing heavy, sweaty, and coming down from your high. He softened inside you and slowly pulled out with a lewd sound, pulling off the condom and tying it off.
You collapsed on the couch, but he wasnt done yet. His hand slid in your hair, tugging you up. “Clean your mess up, sweetheart.” He said, pushing you down to your knees on the carpet. Your eyes went wide, and you whimpered softly.
He held his cum covered, soft dick in his hand. His hand slides to your chin, tipping your head up. “Open.” He murmured, tapping your cheek with his hand. You opened reluctantly, and he slid his soft dick in your mouth. Getting slightly hard at the warm and wet heat of your mouth.
You did as you were told and licked him clean. The whole time, he watched with heavy-lidded eyes and fingers threaded in your hair, and when you cleaned with him, he pulled you off a string of saliva connecting your lips and the head of his dick.
“That's my good girl.” He praised, lifting you into his arms. He now smelled of sweat and sex. He held you in his arms, kissing your temple, fingers brushing over the dark spot starting to form on your neck. So gentle compared to his previous touch.
Even as you lay in his arms, pressed against his warm chest, feeling safe and fucked thoroughly, one thought lingered in the back of your head, creeping to the front and making your chest stir with tightness.
You wanted something more from him than just a fuck buddy.
And you didn't know if you'd ever get that from him.
This isn't proofread, and I wrote it in like 30 minutes… also super sorry for the angst 😭. Have been wanting to write this one for a while. Hope you enjoy! likes and reblogs are super appreciated! Lmk if you have a fic request or any request in the comments! Have an amazing day! xx
Synopsis: As an idol yourself, you never thought you'd find yourself totally head over heels for the leader of Stray Kids, but after watching their performance at an award show your group were invited to a few months ago, your mind found itself completely in the hands of him
Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol!Reader
Warning: Kissing
Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
REQS OPEN
After a while of walking, the familiar silhouette of my apartment block appeared in the distance. A sigh escaped my lips, not of relief, but of resignation. The elevator was still out of order, which meant a grueling climb up several flights of stairs. You'd think our company could invest in better housing, especially considering our group's rising fame. It wasn't exactly the image we wanted to project.
I wondered what the others were up to. Probably a mix of sleeping, binge-watching some ridiculous movie, or raiding the snack stash. My thoughts then drifted back to Chan. His endless enthusiasm and unwavering pride in his group were both endearing and slightly exhausting. I hoped none of my bandmates had spotted him walking me home. My infatuation in him was no secret within the group, and while he'd walked me home before, tonight felt different.
There was a comfortable ease in our conversations, a rhythm to our steps as we walked side-by-side. He usually walked at a brisk pace, but he always slowed down so I could keep up. And he talked, a lot. But I didn't mind. His accent was captivating, a melody I never wanted to interrupt. Tonight, though, there was a lingering warmth in his eyes, a subtle shift in his demeanor that made my heart flutter.
By the time we stopped in front of the iron gates, I turned around quickly to face him. "Thank you for walking me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He shot me a smile, a warm smile that reached his eyes, and my heart skipped a beat. Just as I was about to head in, fumbling for my keys in my pocket, he grabbed my hand and gently pulled me back. I ended up a lot closer to his face than I had anticipated.
"Why don't you come to the studio sometime, so you can hear me record some songs, you know..." he trailed off at the end, a playful smile dancing on his lips, and a small glance flickered towards my lips. "Yeah, sure," I breathed, my mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shift in the atmosphere.
Just then, he brought me even closer, his eyes locking with mine. But before I could register anything, he placed a small but meaningful peck on my lips. It was fleeting, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through my entire being. I stood there, momentarily frozen, as he stepped back, that same warm smile still gracing his features. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the echo of his lips on mine and the lingering scent of his cologne in the cool night air.
After dragging my heavy weight up the stairs and finally reaching my floor, all I could think about was collapsing onto my bed and drifting off to sleep. But before I could even unlock the door, Yanri, the youngest and most energetic member of our group, burst out of the apartment. She was a whirlwind of mismatched pajamas and a single sock, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she ran towards me.
"So, what happened, huh? HUH?" she exclaimed, jumping on me in excitement. I played it off, pretending I didn't know what she was talking about, but Yanri was never one to back down easily. She mentioned that Jarr, our leader, had said something about seeing Chan and me walking together from her bedroom window. Of course, she did. Jarr was incredibly straightforward and, at times, a little strict. If she saw or heard anything interesting, she'd tell almost immediately.
I sighed, knowing there was no use in trying to hide anything from her. With a mischievous grin, Yanri pulled me into the apartment, eager to hear all the details. As I recounted the events of the evening, her eyes widened with each word, and she squealed with delight at the mention of the peck on my lips. It was moments like these that reminded me why I loved our little group so much. Despite our differences, we were always there for each other, sharing in each other's joys and offering support through the tough times. And right now, Yanri's infectious enthusiasm was exactly what I needed to shake off the exhaustion and bask in the sweet memory of the night.
Time skip to the next day:
It was late at the JYP building, the kind of late where the silence hummed with the day's echoes. I was just killing time, waiting for my group to wrap up their dance practice. I'd finished my part a while ago and was now sprawled on the floor outside the studio when I heard that familiar accent.
"So, are you down to take me up on that late-night recording studio meet-up?" I looked up to see him standing there, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, his shoulders slightly shrugged. He wasn't wearing any makeup, a rare sight, and he looked tired, but it didn't matter. I adored him either way. "I don't see why not," I replied, "my group has another two-hour session in." His smile widened as he helped me up from the floor, slinging my bag onto his own shoulder with ease.
"Call it a date," he whispered into my ear, his eyes reflecting a look of pure admiration. A shiver ran down my spine, and my heart skipped a beat.
"come here, my love." he held out his arms in that 'big hug' way that you always liked. your bottom lip jutted out as you shuffled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his middle. his arms felt strong around you, grounding you, but also causing tears to spring to your eyes. you clenched the back of his t-shirt in your fists and nuzzled your face further into his chest, doing your best to hide the tears. but of course, a sniffle gave you away. he did his best to look down at you while you were clinging to him.
"baby?" he said softly, sadness in his voice. "are you crying?"
you shook your head no against him, but it was obvious you were lying. he carefully walked backward until his legs hit the sofa. he gently fell onto the cushion, pulling you into his lap. "tell me what's wrong, baby."
"is stupid.." you mumble.
he frowned at you. "it's not stupid if you're this upset about it, yeah?"
he rubbed your back soothingly as the tears fell slowly down your cheeks in warm streams.
"you can tell me, baby. can daddy help?"
you were quiet for a moment. and he let you be. he knew you would get there in your own time. finally, your voice came out in a soft whisper.
"do you still love me?" you mutter, looking down at your hands.
he put his fingers under your chin and made you look at him. "do i still love you?" he repeated. and your tears came in fresh waves.
"you listen to me when i tell you this, okay? daddy loves you so so much. more than anything else in the entire world."
your bottom lip quivered. "really?" you asked, looking up at him with your big sad eyes. it broke his heart.
"i pinky promise." he said, holding out his pinky. you wrapped your pinky around his. "you are the most important thing to me. the most important thing in my life. and i wouldn't have it any other way. i love waking up next to you in the morning and i love coming home to you every night. especially when you're excited to see me." he smiles. "i love helping you wash your hair and i love our little movie nights."
he threaded his fingers in with yours and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.
"so you won't leave me for someone else? what if you get bored of me?"
he shook his head before the words were even past your lips. "that's impossible baby. no one is better than you. no one could ever replace you. you are mine. and i am yours. forever." he punctuated his statement with a soft kiss to your forehead. "daddy loves you baby."
synopsis ᜊ‧₊˚ how kind of him, he helps you take his big cock
wc ᜊ‧₊˚ 1.4k
warnings ᜊ‧₊˚ SMUT, piv, oral (f! receiving), big dick chan ofc, he's trying so hard to be gentle :(, one pussy slap, squirting, reader gets fucked dumb! creampie
a/n ᜊ‧₊˚ hehe thank y'all for the love on the last post y'all are the silliest of billies love ya smooch
you watch, anxiously, from the bed as chan pulls the lube from the bedside dresser. you two had been together for a year now, and have had sex countless times but no matter how many times you'd taken him it still always felt like the first time.
he noticed your demeanor, "you still nervous y/nnie?"
you nodded, bringing your thumb nail up to your mouth to bite at the surrounding skin, a habit you picked up years ago for when youre anxious.
he tossed the lube on the bed next to you and clicked his tongue, "you don't have to baby, you know I always prepare you right, don't I?"
you nod.
"and has it ever hurt to the point of you tapping out?"
you shake your head, recounting how yes the stretch can be painful at first but once he bottoms out, its all pleasure. still, you can't stop the flutter in your chest just thinking about the slight bit of pain. he climbs over you, a hand on each side of your shoulders and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.
"then trust me baby." he mumbles before deepening the kiss, his tongue darting out to explore your mouth. it turns sloppy quick as the both of you become more desperate. chan pulls away, strings of spit still keeping you two connected as he makes his way down your body, leaving wet kisses against your skin as he goes making your shiver.
when he makes it to your clothed core, he kisses your panties a few times, already feeling how wet you've soaked the fabric. he looks up at you through his lashes, silently asking for permission before he gently pulls your panties down your legs, exposing your glistening pussy. the cold air hitting your most sensitive part instinctively makes your legs close together, but Chans quick to open them back up, your lips now parted and your clit on display for him.
"god, so beautiful and all for me." he mumbles under his breath before attaching his lips to your clit, gently sucking.
you can't help the gasp you let out, your head shooting back into the pillows as your thighs lock around his legs, "fuck! channie oh my god.."
he hums against your clit as the tips of two of his fingers tap at your drooling hole, begging for entry. he pulls his lips away from your sensitive bud as his fingers slowly press into you. you whimper and moan at the slight stretch and how his fingers scissor inside of you, finding that spongy spot that he knows by heart now.
"that's it baby, be a good girl and take my fingers." he hums out, his eyes focused on how youre dripping down his fingers. he curled them up making you moan even louder and he felt you squeeze around his fingers.
"yes! right there chan please don't stop!"
"like this?" he pulls his fingers all the way out and makes eye contact with you as he sticks them in his mouth, making a show of sucking your arousal off them.
you bit back a whimper to try and pretend like you weren't getting off at the sight, "stop being a tease and just make me cum"
he pouted out and leaned back down close to your pussy, so close that you could feel his breath on your clit, "say please."
you were trying to catch your breath, causing you to hesitate a little too long for Chans liking. he swiftly brought a hand down on your weeping cunt, the stimulation going right to your clit as you cried out, "please! please chan! fuck me!"
"you think youre ready to take my fat cock? hm?" he stood up, showing off his rock hard cock that he was slowly rubbing.
you nodded, "yea, im ready."
he leaned back down, giving your poor sensitive clit one last kiss before aligning his dick with your hole. he towered over your frame, his eyes filled with lust as he rubbed his tip against your gaping hole, spreading his pre cum all over it, "you let me know if you need me to stop yea?"
"of course."
he pressed a sweet and gentle kiss against your lips, "good girl."
without waiting much longer, chan sunk his tip into you. you were already whimpering, gripping the sheets slightly as you looked down between your legs, feeling yourself get wetter at the filthy sight.
"more, I can take more."
he nods slightly before pushing almost half his cock in, watching as you threw your head back, moaning out about how big he was. he tried not to show it too much, but his ego was growing with each slurred comment you made, wanting nothing more than to just pound into you relentlessly.
"you think you can take all of me y/nnie?"
you bit your lip and nodded, your hands shooting up to grab your own breasts, twisting your nipples lightly and letting out an airy moan,
he whispered out a 'good girl' before completely bottoming out in you, his eyes darting between the slight bulge in your stomach and the way you were touching yourself in front of him. it took everything in him in that moment to keep himself from fucking you stupid. without thinking he brought his hand down, lightly pressing on the bulge and watching as your mouth fell open, your moan being music to his ears.
"fuck baby, your pussy feels so good. all tight and wet mmm... fuck, I could fuck you all day," his other hand trailed over to your forgotten clit, rubbing soft circles on it as he made slow thrusts, letting you get used to his size still.
"can feel you getting wetter, you like getting fucked by my big dick? love it when I pound into you and you can feel me in your tummy?"
you were losing your mind with all the stimulation, feeling your mind slip away with every thrust, "love it.. love your big cock channie... wan more, please give me more..ill be so good for you." your eyes were glazed over, just lost in the pleasure.
"I know you will be baby." he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as his thrusts picked up speed, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. his hands moved to grip onto your hips, stabilizing you as his thrusts became more aggressive.
he looked at your face to see any discomfort, any silent sign that you needed him to slow down but all he saw was pure bliss. he groaned out, feeling himself lose control in your gummy walls. fuck, he's been needing this, chan hadn't gotten to fuck you properly in what felt like ages, and now that he had the chance, he wasn't going to waste it. he lifted your hips up, taking you by surprise with the new angle and with how much deeper his cock could hit inside you.
"chan! fuck! m so close!" you felt his cock hit that gummy spot and knew you couldn't hold out much longer.
he threw his head back, his own moans echoing out, "I know baby, cum for me, cum on this big dick."
you cry out with your release, feeling your arousal gush out around his cock with force. he pulls out and watches as you continue to squirt on the bed, drenching him and yourself in the process. your body shook with each gush you let out and your eyes rolled back as you felt chan push back into you, needing to feel your pussy around him to cum. his load came out in ropes, painting your pink puffy walls white and creamy. as he pulled out, his cum dripped out of your hole, painting the most lewd picture he had ever seen; you on your back with your legs spread, your ruined cunt all pink and puffy leaking with his seed.
after he had soaked it all in, he climbed on the side of you, gently taking your face in his hands, "did I take it too rough angel?"
your eyes fluttered to him and an endearing smile grazed your lips, "no baby it was perfect, been needing that for awhile now."
he giggled and leaned down to place a sweet and loving kiss against your lips, cradling your body in his arms, "me too."
imagine you wake up 70 years in the future and all your friends and loved ones are dead and gone and this robot guy invites you to join his superhero team and he becomes your partner and your best friend and then you meet tin man's boss who's charming and handsome and bankrolls the avengers and he lets you live in his giant ass childhood mansion and the first week you come out of the ice he takes you out for drinks and to the smithsonian to show you the moon and stars and tells you how incredible you are and gives you hope again and you teach him self defence and how to fight and then one day a villain disintegrates iron man's armor and you realise tony stark is iron man and the person who fights beside you and calls you winghead and would lay his life on the line for you is also the same person who gave you a home and a purpose and somewhere to belong. IMAGINE.
𝐜𝐰𝐬: smut, abs, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f!receiving) (m receiving), pussy drunk, gagging, deepthroat, light face slapping, dw he’s sweet to you after it is channie ofc
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: chan and you are gym friends and it turns into something more.
You’ve just finished stretching, your muscles still warm as you roll your shoulders back, preparing yourself. It’s leg day your least favorite, but you’re here anyway.
The gym hums around you, familiar and routine.
But something feels… off.
You glance toward the usual spot.
He’s not there.
Chan.
It’s subtle at first barely noticeable but it lingers in the back of your mind. You see him almost every day. Same time. Same area. Same quiet smile when your eyes meet.
A habit. A routine.
So why isn’t he here today?
You pause for a second longer than you should, scanning the room again.
Nothing.
You shake it off, letting out a small breath as you turn back toward your workout. It’s not like you were looking for him… right?
You’re midway through your first set when the gym doors open. You don’t mean to look. You just… do and there he is.
Chan.
Relief hits you before you can even question it—but it fades just as quickly, something’s off.
He doesn’t scan the room like he usually does. Doesn’t do that small double take when he spots you. Doesn’t smile. He just walks in.
Head low. Hoodie slightly pulled over his cap. AirPods already in. Distant.
Your brows knit together slightly as you watch him move to his usual spot. Weird. You hesitate for a second, debating with yourself… then push it aside and walk over anyway. “Hey,” you say lightly, like always. Simple. Casual. Routine.
Chan pauses, pulling one AirPod out as he looks at you “…Hey.”
That’s it.
No smile. No warmth.
Just a short, quiet response before he brings his water bottle to his lips, taking a long sip.
Your chest tightens just a little. “Oh… haven’t seen you yet today,” you add, trying to fill the sudden awkward silence.
“Yeah. Just got here.” Dry. Flat. Like he’s already somewhere else.
He doesn’t look at you again. Just sets his bottle down, adjusts the weights on the bar, and gets into position. Conversation over.
You stand there for half a second too long before stepping back, heat creeping up your neck.
“…Right. See you around.” He doesn’t respond this time, he’s already lifting. You turn away, walking back to your station, but your focus is completely gone now.
Because for the first time… Chan didn’t feel like Chan and for some reason it bothers you more than it should.
You push through your last rep, breath shaky as you rack the weight your thighs burn, chest rising and falling as you lean forward slightly, hands resting on your knees. “Fuck…” you whisper under your breath. You straighten, rolling your shoulders and that’s when you feel it. A stare. You glance up.
Chan, he’s already looking at you. Not casually. Not accidentally. No, he’s watching you. His jaw tight, eyes dark, like he got caught in something he shouldn’t have been. For a second, neither of you move.
Then he looks away. Too late.
You saw it. Your brows knit slightly, heart picking up for reasons you don’t fully understand.
So you test it.
You step back under the bar again. Slow. Deliberate. And this time… you know he’s watching. You can feel it. You lower into position, grip tightening as you push up again, a soft exhale leaving your lips
and across the room—
Chan’s grip on his own weights falters for just a second “…shit,” he mutters under his breath. Because now he can’t look away. Not when you look like that. Not when you’re moving like that. Not when you’re wearing that tight outfit that’s hugging all your curves, the sweat that’s glistening your body. Your snail trail on the bench. Especially not when his head is already messed up and somehow, you’re making it worse and more harder for him to focus.
You rack the weight again, breathing heavier now, turning slightly and your eyes meet his again. This time, you don’t look away. Neither does he. Something shifts. That quiet, routine tension you guys were having? It snaps.
Chan drops his weights with a soft thud, grabbing his water but instead of drinking, he just… stands there for a second. Thinking. Fighting himself.
Then— he starts walking toward you. Slow. Purposeful.
Your stomach flips.
He stops right in front of you, closer than he’s ever been before. Close enough that you can see the tension in his expression… the way his chest rises and falls a little heavier than usual.
“You—” he starts, voice lower than before.Then he pauses, jaw tightening like he’s choosing his words carefully. “…you’re lifting too heavy.”
It’s weak. You both know it. Your lips press together slightly, tilting your head. “Am I?” You step just a little closer.
Now you’re the one testing him.
Chan exhales slowly, eyes flicking down for half a second then back up to yours. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Your form’s gonna give out.”
“Then fix it.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
And that’s it.
That’s the moment.
Because something in Chan breaks.
His tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, eyes darkening as he steps in behind you.
Close.
Too close.
His hand comes to your waist—firm, steadying.
“Bend your knees more,” he murmurs, voice right by your ear now.
His other hand hovers… then settles lightly on your thigh, guiding your stance.
Your breath catches.
“Like this,” he adds, quieter now.
You can feel him.
His presence.
His warmth.
The way he’s trying to stay focused—
but isn’t.
At all.
And neither are you.
Chan can’t take it anymore. You’re breathing heavy and sweat is glistening off of you. He tried to walk away but you pulled him back. “What the fuck is your problem?” “What did I ever do to you? Are you mad at me?”
“No” Chan scoffs. “You don’t get it” he says again.
“What’s gotten you so worked up—“ before you can even finish it. Chan is standing closer to you. Too close, his hand is hovering your waist he’s trying to ground himself he doesn’t want to overstep anything. And then…
“You” Chan says.
“Me? But I -“ Chan shushes you with his finger. He’s dragging is index finger down your lip.
“You don’t get it do you? Coming in here everyday and bending over right in front of me?” Chan says lowly. Before you can speak he continues “You keep teasing me, always having that camera recording you, I can’t ever do what I really want to do”
“And what do you want to do huh ?…” you shyly looked away. Chan lifts your chin so you can look up at him “I want to fuck the shit out of you and have you be a good fucking girl and squirt on this fucking dick, that’s what I want to do”
“Oh yea and what about you?”
“What about me?” Chan looked at you confused now.
“Posting on your only chans. Your bubble for STAYS. Your workout videos… the sounds you make and…”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You’ve have my bubble?“
You were a simple woman and you weren't ashamed of admitting that, not when he looked like that especially.
“And what?” He’s curious now.
"And you sounded like you were doing porn.-" you stopped mid sentence.
Chan is looking at you shyly, he’s flustered but he loves the way you tease him. like he doesn’t know how to react to it.
"Are you trying to kill STAYs? By doing that” you joked.
"And what about you? Posting your mirror pictures at the gym, bending over and showing your tits. I gotta say, I thought you were only a slut for me", he’s brushing back his sweat damp hair.
Chan held his breath for a second, the grin wiped out of his face as he slightly tilted his head to look up to you. He’s felt superior and he’s loving the look that you’re giving him. That shy flustered look. The way how you keep fidgeting with your fingers and trying to look away.
"Huh?".
"You heard me", he said, combing through his dyed strands, "I would prefer to keep those videos for myself. You're mine, all of you".
You looked like you wanted to say something, mouth opened, but nothing came out.
"You don't believe me? Want me to prove it?" He leaned down until you were on eye level, "Or to mark you enough so that other stays can see?”
He’s already on his knees looking up at you. “Sit and spread those legs for me. Be a good fucking slut. Stop teasing me”
You listened and sat on the bench now. You spread your legs as he told you to do so. He ripped off your leggings — “Christoper!”
“Shh. We can just get you new ones” he’s looking up at you , while sliding your pantie aside. Exposing your heat. You’re already wet, it’s glistening. He’s looking at you and then looks down mesmerized by how wet and slit it is. His thumb brushing over it lightly, teasing your clit.
"No talking", he ordered "The only sounds I wanna hear from you are your moans".
Your pupils dilated heavily at his words, your breathing now even more ragged and out of rhythm than it had been while working out.
You watched him taking off his sweatpants off, shedding out of his clothes. Your eyes were pleading, silently asking if he could touch you, even raising your hand hesitantly by his crotch.
But he didn't let you. You moved to tug his waistband down, he stopped you by gripping your wrists.
"Be patient, baby", he scolded you, you whined.
You’ve never seen Chan like this. Chan has never seen you obeying what he was saying, whining, whimpering.
He’s now on his knees again. Spreading your pussy lips wide, admiring every inch.
"Stay like this, yeah? Be a good fucking girl for me". He starts licking at your clit and is teasing your hole with his middle finger, only putting the tip of his finger in.
You moan, the moan you let out was choked, he chuckled a little so amused at your reaction.
"Your body is so perfect, such a pretty little pussy" he hummed against your pussy. you moaned, wondering why you both haven't done something like this earlier "Feels so good?” He stops and questions you.
“Chris— fuck don’t stop” you whined and pulled his head back down. “Mm— you want daddy to eat this pussy?” you’re whining now.
“Say please” Chan says lowly while looking up at you, he lightly licked your clit. Not fully, not giving you the full satisfaction that you want.
“Chris… fuck please” you whined out.
“Good girl” he’s licking your clit now. No longer teasing you.
You try to close your legs but he spreads them more wider. You gasp. Pulling his head down more. He’s tongue fucking you now, while rubbing your clit. His fingers stroked you. Adrenaline was rushing through your body, more and more flowing through your system every time he hit your sweet spot. “Oh fuck— Chan” “mmm does it feel good baby?” He hummed against you.
“Fuck don’t stop” you moaned out. He noticed you’re about to cum and he stopped, and got up. He is now standing up hovering over you.
You’re breathing heavy still. Your brows knit. You looked up at him “Why the fuck did you stop?”
He goes up to you. Close to your face. You’re looking at him confused.
“Shutup and get on your fucking knees now” he whispered in your ear.
You obeyed and went on your knees. You’re about to pull the waistband of his boxers off. He’s stopped you and bent over to off your bra with one hand and unclasped it. Your bra fell on the floor.
You couldn’t take it anymore. You shoved him back lightly. The back of his knees bumped against the bench now.
“Sit and be a good boy for me yea?”
He moaned a little and sat down. Obeying you. Letting you take over control for a moment.
You’re crawling up to him, and pulled his boxers down. Exposing his long length, his cock is dripping with pre cum.
You licked the top of his head with your tongue teasing him while looking up at him. He groaned. The sounds he made were sinful, filthy.
You’re teasing him, sucking on the tip of his head now. “Fuck baby please” he tried thrusting up into your mouth.
“Mm—how bad do you want me to suck your cock?” You giggled lightly
“Stop fucking teasing me” He whined.
You licked up his cock again, all the way to the tip of his cock and licked the pre cum off very slowly more slower than the first time. “Say please Channie” while looking up at him
“I want you to suck this fuckin cock please baby” he’s whining now. You’re amused by his reaction.
You started to suck on his cock, up and down. shoving his whole length in your mouth, the top of his cock hitting the back of your throat, his cock can barely fit whole in your mouth. You gagged a little. You teared up a little, mascara running down to your face.
“So fucking beautiful” he moaned. Hearing that made your pussy started to wet again. You pressed your thighs together lightly.
He’s now thrusting up, fucking up into your mouth while gripping your hair pushing your head down. You’re deepthroating his cock. He’s cock is pulsing you can feel him. He’s about to cum. You stopped and got up.
“Mmm ahh- fu- what the fuck?” He’s breathing is heavy now. His eyes were pleading, silently asking if you could go back on your knees and suck him till he finishes.
But you don’t. You swung one leg over him to straddle him. Now you could feel how painfully hard he is, twitching against your naked core.
"Be patient, baby", you scolded him, he whined.
He then flipped you over so you’re the one who’s lying on the mat now. He put your hands above your head pinning down you. He’s kissing you, hard. Your guys breaths and moans mixing together. His tongue moving against yours.
He then pulled back. He’s hovering over the top of you now. But then he grabs both of your legs and spreads them wide. He’s in between your legs now. He’s grinding his cock against your pussy lips.
He noticed how wet you’re getting. “Oh you like that?” Chan groaned at the sight of how your slit is glistening and shining with every movement of his cock grinding on your pussy lips.
He nodded quickly, eyes squeezing shut. One hand covering your face. He pulls your hand away.
“Don’t hide, let me see you baby” he growled.
“Please Chan fuck put it in—“ you’re breathing heavy looking up at him, almost pleading.
“Tell me how bad you want it” “be a good fucking slut and tell me how badly you want this cock to fuck you” he groaned
“Please fuck me Christopher I want to feel your big cock in my tight little pussy” “make me yours” you begged and cried out”
Chan eyes went dark at your words. Like this has been something he’s been waiting for you to say for the longest time. He slowly pushed himself inside filling you up while you whined into his mouth. he was thick, it seemed like he wanted to wait for me to adjust to his size. You couldn’t help the whines leaving your mouth at the feeling of him inside you, it was as if he was a perfect fit, like your pussy was molded for him. Chan was groaning in between your guys kisses. Thrusting inside and out of your cunt. Deep and slow at first. Making you feel every inch of his cock. Your walls tightened and squeezed against him, he growled at the feeling.
He was panting against your mouth. His hands found yours, pinning you down on the mattress, his forehead pressed to against yours.
"Ah— Shit so fucking tight— so wet” he groaned
“Oh my fucking god you’re so fucking big” You cried out after he bit down on your shoulder, feeling him at your center, he was close and began pushing himself inside of me. He seemed so big, everything was so wet, the sound of him stretching you out pushing himself in and out while going deeper each time. Your hands reached up out of desperation to hold on to his shoulders as he held himself above you.
He pressed a hot wet kiss to your mouth while he slipped inside and out of you again. You gasped out, him mouth opened against yours, the kiss had been so sloppy. You could feel the string of spit from his mouth to yours as he pulled away. His grip stayed firm on my throat and all you could do was whine and watch him as he pulled away slightly, unashamed at how filthy and sloppy your guys kiss was. His tongue stuck out as he let his warm saliva drip into your mouth. You could feel him slowly pull out from where we you were both connected, all you could do was whimper and hold your mouth open for him, as he slowly spit in your mouth. He closed the distance between your both open mouths, his tongue now playing with yours, you both are desperate for each other. Warm grip on your neck as he slowly started up the pace, he let out a low groan that you swallowed in the deep kiss, your hands clung to him as he pushed and pulled out of your wet dripping cunt. Your breathing was uneven. You could feel your head spinning again, from the filthy kiss he'd given you.
His cock is pulsating and throbbing inside of you. You can feel it. How close you are. How both of you are. Your pussy walls is squeezing his cock. His mouth around your nipples lightly grazing it with his teeth, sucking on it.
“Cum in me daddy” you cried out.
“Y-you want me to cum in you baby?” cock still thrusting in you. But his eyes softened, face unsure. His eyes searching yours to make sure you’re okay with it.
“Please channie fuck fill me up with your cum I want to feel you so bad” you whimpered.
He growled at you begging. “Cum with me baby” “You gonna be my good little cock whore and take all my cum?" He gripped your face with one hand, slapping you lightly and spat in your mouth again.
You’re crying. Whimpering, breathing hard. Your head is spinning. He’s fucking up into your cunt hard, fast. Hitting your g-spot. He lifted your legs so that your legs are over his shoulders now. His hands gripping both sides of your waist. Angling you more so his cock can thrust deeper into your tight little cunt.
"Fuck your pussy feels so good baby” he growled out his body starting to stutter as his high approached. "Ready for my cum baby? His words slurred as he spoke.
Your walls choking his cock as your high washed over you "Chris!" You almost screamed out as you felt him thrust hard one more time feeling a pressure as he did.
"Oh fu—fuck" he moaned out pumping you full of all his cum. The hot liquid plastered your walls coating it nicely. "Good girl you took all of it so well" he said looking down at the hot white liquid dripping out of your cunt.
As you both came down from your high Chan kissed you softly. "Chan" you said breathy, he nods in response with a soft hmm. "That was the hottest gym workout” you giggled, breathing heavy still
"definitely was" he said leaning down to kiss you again. Chan slowly up to clean you up. He saw how rough he was being with. “I’m sorry for being so rough baby” he frowned
“It’s okay Chris, I loved every second of it” you smiled.
Chris smiled lightly and is cuddling you now. “My girl” he hummed against your forehead and kissed you.
The end.
If you’d like to read more of my stuff please let me know. I haven’t wrote in so long. thank you for reading ~ 🩵
CONTENT: Established and secret relationship, idol!AU, heavy angst but happy ending, disappearance, burnout and mental health themes, fame pressure and sasaeng harassment, intense hurt/comfort, storm and reunion in the rain, vulnerability (crying, guilt, breakdown)..
SUMMARY: Bang Chan stops replying to your messages. Then he stops picking up the phone. After that, he disappears from the stage, from the group chat… and from your life — the one you both always kept secret. Between sasaengs, hate comments and empty company statements, the silence becomes unbearable. Until you decide to use the “emergency contact” Chan left you: Felix.
NOTE: I've written a fic based on @karmaghostjess93's idea. Thank you so much for trusting me to write it! I hope you like it.🌼 🌈 💗
CHAPTER 2 AND FINAL
CHAPTER 1
It's him.
Chan. Your Chan.
You get up, this time for real, moving slowly.
Every step you take toward the entryway is as if you were approaching a wounded wild animal: carefully, without haste, fearing that any movement might make him run away again.
He hasn’t moved an inch. His head is slightly bowed, his hands at his sides, soaked, his shoulders slumped.
The storm rages outside, but inside you hear nothing but the dripping of his clothes on the floor.
Your voice comes out on its own, barely a whisper:
“Chan…”
You’re not even sure you said it out loud. It sounds like a thought to you.
But he hears it.
Because, after a second that feels like a year, he slowly lifts his head.
His eyes meet yours.
They aren’t the eyes of the guy who used to flop down on your couch, dramatically moaning, “I’m dying.”
The dark circles under his eyes are deeper, his skin paler, his gaze… empty. There’s such deep exhaustion there that it takes your breath away.
When he pulls off his hood with a trembling hand, you see his hair flattened against his forehead, tangled from the rain. He looks thinner. More fragile.
He stares at you, but says nothing.
For a moment, neither do you.
There are so many things you want to do and say: you want to run and hug him, you want to yell at him, you want to cry, you want to ask him where he’s been, why he left, if he’s okay, if he plans to leave again.
But all you manage to do is move a little closer. Not too close, leaving a space between the two of you.
You raise your hands slowly, as if asking permission with the gesture. He doesn’t step back.
Carefully, you slide your fingers to his mask and pull it down from his face. You set it on the entryway table.
His face, now exposed, is painful to look at.
His lips are chapped, his stubble more pronounced than usual. Small red patches around his nose, as if he’d rubbed it too hard. Above all, that emptiness in his expression, broken only by a glimmer of something you recognize: fear.
You take his hand.
It’s ice-cold.
Your instinct to care for him kicks in before any other emotion.
“You’re soaked…” you murmur. “Come on, take a shower first, please. You’re going to get sick.”
You gently tug on his hand, trying to guide him toward the bathroom.
But his body doesn’t move.
It’s as if he’s rooted to the spot.
You turn around, confused, the question written all over your face.
He lets out a strange sound, something between a sigh and a broken laugh.
“I disappear for weeks…” he says, his voice deep and raspy, as if he hasn’t spoken much in a long time. “And the only thing you worry about is whether I’m going to catch a cold…” He looks at some random spot on the floor, then back at you. “Without even asking me for an explanation?”
His tone isn’t accusatory; it sounds more… incredulous. As if he doesn’t understand how you can take it this way.
You take another step toward him. The distance between you shrinks until you can clearly see the tiny broken capillaries in his eyes, signs of sleepless nights.
You look him straight in the eye, without flinching.
“I trust you,” you say, without hesitation. “If you did this, it’s because you had a compelling reason. And I want to hear it. Of course I want to hear it.”
You take a breath, swallow the lump in your throat.
“But first… I want to make sure you don’t get sick.”
There’s a second of silence.
Something in his eyes changes. It’s not a dramatic shift—they don’t suddenly light up—but the emptiness cracks just a little, letting through a glimpse of something you recognize: the Chan who melts when someone offers him simple care, not based on what he can give, but on who he is.
His shoulders slump slightly, as if he’s letting go of some of the weight.
“You’re still too good to me…” he murmurs, almost as if reproaching himself.
Even so, this time, when you take his hand, he lets himself be led.
The bathroom fills with steam very quickly.
You’ve left his usual towels in their place, as if you’d been unconsciously waiting for this moment. You also still have a set of his clothes that he left here last time: a large sweatshirt, a pair of sweatpants.
You leave them on the counter.
“I’ll be right outside,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “If you need anything… call me, okay?”
He barely nods. He doesn’t look at you directly; his eyes remain fixed on the floor.
You close the door gently and lean against it, on the outside.
You hear the sound of the water turning on, hitting the tile in the shower.
For the first few minutes, the sound is constant, monotonous. Your heart tries to match its beat to that of the drops, but it keeps racing.
You think about sending Felix a quick message, just a simple: “He’s here.”
But an irrational doubt strikes you: What if it’s a dream? What if you open the chat, type the message, and when you look up, he’s gone?
You decide to wait.
Time passes. Five minutes. Ten.
The water still sounds the same.
Something inside you tenses up.
You don’t hear the typical sounds of someone moving in the shower: no bottles being picked up, no curtain sliding, no light thuds of an elbow against the wall.
Just water. Falling. Without interruption.
A different kind of heat, this time from anxiety, rises in your chest.
You knock on the door, softly at first.
“Chan… are you okay?”
Silence.
You swallow hard.
You knock a little louder.
“Chan, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Your mind jumps to the worst-case scenario with painful ease: Has he fainted? Is he sitting in a corner, unresponsive? Has he…?
You don’t finish the thought.
You turn the doorknob.
“I’m coming in,” you warn, just in case. “I don’t care if you’re naked; I care if you’re alive.”
You push the door open.
The steam hits your face immediately, fogging up the mirror, blurring the outlines.
You step inside, closing the door behind you so the hallway doesn’t get flooded. The sound of the water is louder here, almost deafening.
You yank the shower curtain open.
And you see him.
He isn’t naked. He’s still wearing his clothes, the same dark sweatshirt, now clinging to his body, heavy, dripping. He’s sitting on the shower floor, his back against the wall, his legs bent, his arms on his knees.
The water is pouring directly onto his head and shoulders, as if it were compressed rain.
He’s shivering.
You don’t know if it’s from the cold, anxiety, or both.
Your heart decides for you.
You step into the shower with everything, without thinking about the fact that you’re getting wet too, that it’s dangerous, or anything else.
You close the curtain a little behind you to keep the water inside, kneel down in front of him, the water now splashing against the back of your neck as well.
“Chan,” you say, more firmly this time. “Look at me.”
It takes a few seconds, but finally he looks up.
His gaze, through the water running down his eyelashes, breaks something inside you.
There’s a mixture of extreme exhaustion, guilt, fear… and a hint of shame. As if he feels exposed, not because he’s dressed in the shower, but because he’s letting you see him so broken.
You reach out and cup his face in your hands, shielding his cheeks from the direct stream.
“You’re shaking,” you whisper.
He laughs, a muffled sound.
“I don’t know if it’s from the cold… or everything else.”
His voice cracks on the last word.
And then, as if that small crack had been the signal his body needed, he breaks down.
His shoulders shake in a movement that isn’t exactly a sob, but resembles one. His hands, which had been clenched into fists on his knees, clumsily rise to your wrists, as if he were clinging to you to keep from sinking any further.
“I tried,” he says, the words spilling out in a rush, jumbled. “I tried to be strong.” He swallows, water sliding down his forehead, mixing—who knows if with tears. “I tried to carry on as if nothing had happened, to keep smiling, to keep saying ‘I’m okay’ on the live streams, to tell them not to worry…” He laughs again, without joy. “But everything we do… everything I am…” Her breathing quickens. “It seems like it’s never enough. Never.”
You listen, without taking your hands off her face.
“They’re attacking the guys because of me,” he continues. “Hyunjin, again. Felix, again. Everyone. —His fingers squeeze your wrists a little tighter. —And when they started getting close to you, even though they didn’t even know who you were… when I saw comments talking about your building, your street… —He closes his eyes tightly.— I felt like… like I was putting you in the line of fire just for existing by my side.
Your lungs tighten.
You’d suspected it, but hearing it like this, in his voice, hurts in a whole new way.
“I realized that the closer I brought you to me, the more I was putting you in danger,” he says. “And I didn’t know… I didn’t know how to keep looking you in the face, knowing that I was the one dragging you into all this.”
He lowers his head slightly, but you don’t let him hide completely, holding on tight.
“So I left,” he confesses quietly. “I turned everything off. I cut ties with everyone. I thought that if I disappeared, maybe… they’d stop too. That if they couldn’t find me, they’d stop looking for you. That if I wasn’t there, the kids would have time to breathe.”
The rain keeps falling, relentlessly, on both of you.
You feel your clothes clinging to your body, the cold starting to seep into your bones, but your attention is fixed solely on him.
You look at him, your eyes burning.
“And did it work?” you ask, in a whisper, but with a sharp edge to your voice. “Did they stop?”
He remains silent.
He doesn’t need to answer, but he does anyway.
“No,” he admits. “They just… changed the kind of noise.”
His laugh is almost inaudible.
“All I managed to do was leave you all alone with it. The kids, you…” His voice breaks completely. “I was a coward.” I left you alone when you needed me most. I wasn’t even able to say goodbye. I just… disappeared.” He squeezes his eyes shut, as if trying to erase himself. “I hate myself for that.”
You can’t stand the distance any longer.
You lean forward and hug him, right there, underwater.
Your arms wrap around his soaked shoulders, your body pressed against his. You feel his trembling up close; you feel his hands hesitate for a second and then cling tightly to your back, as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish into the steam.
His forehead rests against your collarbone.
“I don’t need you to be perfect, Chan,” you murmur, almost into his ear, trying not to let your voice break. “I don’t need an invincible boyfriend, or a hero who fixes everything.”
You stroke the back of his neck, feeling his uneven breathing against your skin.
“I just need you to be here. Even if you’re broken. Even if you’re scared. Even if you feel like you can’t handle it all… let me carry some of the weight with you.”
His fingers dig into the fabric of your T-shirt, as if those words had touched a spot that was too sensitive.
“You don’t deserve this…” he whispers, almost inaudibly. “You don’t deserve someone who runs away when they should stay.”
“What I don’t deserve,” you reply, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes, “is for you to decide for me what I can or can’t handle.” You look at him with as much resolve as you can muster. “If you stay, if you fight, if you break and rebuild yourself… I want to be there. But I can’t be there if you shut the door on me.”
He looks at you as if it pains him to do so.
In his eyes there are a thousand apologies, a thousand “I’m sorrys” that words cannot express.
“I’m not going to ask you to forgive me,” he says at last, his voice hoarse. “Not now. Not after what I did.” He swallows, the water still splashing against his forehead. “But… if you’ll still let me try…” He pauses, searching for the words. “I don’t know how to be ‘Chan’ again for everyone. But I want to…” He looks at you, and for the first time since he walked in, you see a clear glimmer of determination behind all that exhaustion. “I want to try to be ‘Chan’ again for you.”
Your chest tightens.
You don’t respond with words.
You lean in and kiss his forehead, long and gently, letting the gesture speak:
“You’re here. And for now, that’s enough.”
You turn off the water without letting go of him completely.
“Let’s get these wet clothes off before you actually get sick,” you say, trying to regain a bit of lightness in your tone.
He nods, exhausted.
You help him up, out of the shower, and wrap him in a towel. You hand him his dry clothes, step out of the bathroom so he can change with some privacy, and in the meantime, you change too, shivering a little from the mix of cold and adrenaline.
When he steps out, wearing his oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants, the air around him is still heavy, but there’s a difference:
He’s no longer hiding in the darkness. For the first time in weeks, he’s standing in the light of your living room, soaked, shivering, and brutally honest.
And you’re there to see him.
The steam from the bathroom has almost completely dissipated.
In the living room, all you can hear is the rain on the window and the faint creak of the sofa as Chan plops down on it, still wrapped in the towel around his neck, his oversized sweatshirt hanging off his shoulders.
You sit down next to him, leaving a small space between the two of you.
Not because you don’t want to touch him, but because you feel that any contact too soon might make him feel cornered.
For a few seconds, neither of you says anything.
You study his profile: the curve of his nose, the way he clenches his jaw, the slight tremor in his fingers resting on his knees.
He keeps his eyes fixed on some indeterminate spot on the floor, as if he’s afraid that if he looks you in the face, you’ll vanish.
“Where have you been?” you ask finally, in a low voice, without demand, without reproach, but with all the honesty in the world.
He swallows.
A few seconds pass before he answers.
“In… too many places and nowhere,” he says with a dry chuckle. “Sometimes in empty studios they let us use at night. Sometimes in a cheap motel where no one would give a second glance to a guy in a cap and mask.” He runs a hand through the back of his neck, uncomfortable. “A couple of nights… I slept in the rehearsal room. Like when I was a trainee.” He shrugs, trying to downplay it. “Old habits.”
Something inside you shrinks.
You picture those cold, empty rooms, lit only by the white glow of the fluorescent lights. You picture Chan sprawled on a hard couch, one of those he always joked you couldn’t sleep on for even five minutes.
“Alone?” you ask, though you know the answer.
“Alone,” he confirms. “I wanted…” He takes a breath. “I wanted to make sure they couldn’t track me easily.” He sighs. “I turned off my phone. I threw away the SIM card. I changed my route every time.” He laughs, this time with a bitterness that makes your skin crawl. “Irony: I know better how to escape the sasaengs than how to ask for help.”
You lean toward him slightly.
“And what were you thinking while… you were running away?” Your question sounds gentle, but you’re venturing into deeper territory.
He hesitates for a second, then gives in.
“I was thinking… that maybe the world would be better off without me in it,” he admits. “I’m not talking about…”—he makes a vague gesture with his hand—“…disappearing permanently. I didn’t go that far.” His eyes darken. “But I am talking about… being less. Being around less.” “Talking less.” He fidgets with his fingers, restless. “If I was out of the picture, the comments would have to find another target. If I disappeared from the schedules, the live streams, the posts… maybe the group could breathe, maybe you could go back to being a truly anonymous person.”
It hurts to hear him say it, but you don’t interrupt him.
“And the more time passed…” he continues, “the more I realized something that messed with my head even more.”
He turns, finally, to look at you.
His gaze is sharp, unguarded.
“That I don’t deserve any of what I have.”
Your heart skips a beat.
“Chan…”
He raises a hand, as if asking you to let him continue.
“Look at it objectively,” he says, almost clinically. “I have seven incredible guys by my side who still call me ‘leader,’ even though I was the first to jump ship when the seas were at their roughest.” “I have millions of people out there…” he gestures vaguely toward the window, “…who spend these days writing ‘we’re waiting for you,’ ‘come back when you’re ready,’ ‘your health comes first,’ when I’m not even capable of replying to a simple message.” His lips tighten. “And I have someone…”—his eyes lock onto you—“who hasn’t slept well in weeks, hasn’t eaten well, doesn’t know if I’m alive, just because I decided to disappear without saying a word. And all that for what?” He laughs, without humor. “For a guy who doesn’t even know how to exist without hurting the people he loves.”
His words hit like stones.
You notice he’s clenching his hands until his knuckles turn white.
“I don’t deserve your messages,” he continues, his voice rising barely a notch, for the first time a little heavier. “I don’t deserve your patience. I don’t deserve for the guys to keep calling me ‘hyung’ affectionately after leaving them alone with all this shit. And definitely…” He inhales, as if it were physical pain. “…I don’t deserve for you to still be here.”
His confession cuts between them like a knife.
Your throat burns.
“You can’t decide that,” you reply, faster than you expected.
He looks at you, his expression a mix of frustration and pain.
“Of course I can,” he retorts. “If I really wanted what’s best for them, for you…” He closes his eyes for a second, as if the words were hard to say. “I should walk away. I should let them find someone stronger, more whole. Someone who doesn’t crumble at the first blow, someone who doesn’t drag everyone down every time his head stops working right.”
He falls silent for a moment, takes a deep breath, and his voice drops.
“But I don’t.”
The silence that follows takes your breath away.
—I don’t do it because… —his eyes lock onto yours again, brighter, as if he could see his own reflection in your pupils—… because I’m selfish. Because I realized that… I love you so much that the idea of letting you go hurts me more than any other fear. “He laughs, a broken laugh.” “And that just makes me feel worse. Because if I really wanted what was best for you, I would have kept you out of this from the start. If I were truly a good leader, a good… man, a good something…” He shakes his head. “I would have protected you even from myself.”
Every word pierces your chest, but not as an attack on you—rather, as proof of just how incredibly cruel he can be to himself.
You move.
You close the distance between you, until your knee touches his.
You bring your hands to his, which are still clenched into fists, and wrap them firmly.
“Listen to me carefully,” you say, and your tone makes him seem surprised. “I won’t let you use my love as a weapon against yourself.”
He blinks, confused.
“What…?”
“You’re trying to convince yourself that wanting to be with me makes you selfish,” you continue. “That loving your boys makes you a bad leader because you feel responsible for everything. That having fans who support you makes you a fraud because you can’t ‘live up to’ what you think they deserve.” You move his hands to your chest, placing them there, over the rapid beat of your heart. “But the problem isn’t what you feel, Chan. The problem is what you’re telling yourself when the lights go out.”
He swallows hard, his eyes misting over.
“You haven’t forced anyone to love you,” you continue, your voice trembling but not faltering. “The guys chose you as their leader time and time again—even when you weren’t perfect, even when you were afraid. The fans are there because they’ve seen your effort, your vulnerability, your humanity. Not because they think you’re an indestructible robot.” And I…—it’s hard for you, but you say it clearly—…I’m here because I love you. With problems or without them. With breakdowns, with doubts, with sleepless nights. I love you not in spite of your cracks, but with them. Because they’re part of you, too.
He opens his mouth, as if to protest, but you squeeze his hands a little to stop him.
“If tomorrow you decide you don’t want to be with me because you don’t love me anymore, that’s one thing,” you say. “I’ll be heartbroken, but I’ll accept it. But I won’t accept you pushing me away ‘for my own good’ while you still feel the same way. I won’t accept you using my safety as an excuse to punish your own existence.”
His eyes fill with tears now—visible, heavy.
One rolls slowly down his cheek.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve repeated that to myself,” she whispers. “‘If you really love her, you’ll push her away.’ ‘If you really love them, you’ll disappear.’” Her voice breaks. “And every time I imagined you far away…” A small, almost childlike sob escapes her. “I couldn’t breathe.”
His confession pierces you.
You can’t stand the distance anymore.
You lean forward and rest your forehead against hers.
You both close your eyes.
Your voice, close to her lips, is a firm whisper:
“I don’t want you to push me away. I don’t want a ‘safer’ life without you.” I want a life with you, even if it’s scary sometimes. I want to be there when the comments hurt, when the nights are long, when you feel like you don’t deserve anything. I want to be part of the proof that you do deserve it. That you are enough. That you can be loved unconditionally.
He takes a deep, shaky breath, swallowing your words as if they were oxygen.
“I don’t know if I can promise I’ll never feel this way again,” he says, with brutal honesty. “I don’t know if I can promise I won’t get scared again, or want to disappear.” His hands, still on your chest, feel your racing heartbeat. “But… if you let me…” He opens his eyes, fixing them on yours, already shining and red. “I can promise you I won’t do it alone again. That if I ever feel like I can’t take it anymore, instead of turning off my phone and running…” He swallows. “I’ll come here. First. To this couch. To you.”
You laugh through your tears, a muffled sound.
“I’ll accept that as a deal.”
He lets out a small sound that could almost be an attempt at a laugh, too.
You move even closer and kiss him.
It’s not a movie kiss; it’s not dramatic with background music. It’s slow, clumsy, tasting of salt and rain, of apologies and promises still rough around the edges.
It’s a “you’re still here” and a “I’m not leaving” in the same gesture.
When you pull apart, he rests his forehead on your shoulder again, as if that spot were made just for him.
He whispers, so softly you can barely hear him:
“I love you.”
You gently stroke his hair.
“I love you too.”
You stay like this for quite a while.
He rests his forehead against your shoulder, his eyes closed, breathing a little more evenly. You stroke his hair, feeling the knot in your chest loosen just a little for the first time tonight.
But there’s another truth hanging in the air, waiting.
It’s not just you and him in this world.
There’s a group of guys, on the other side of town, who’ve been waiting for weeks for a signal like the one you just received.
You shift slightly, just enough for him to lift his head and look at you.
“Chan,” you say, carefully. “There’s something else you have to do.”
His body tenses slightly.
“I know,” he replies, before you can say it. “I have to call the company, the managers… I have to…”
“That too,” you interrupt him gently. “But… I wasn’t thinking about them first.”
He blinks, confused.
“Who then…?”
You pick up your phone from the table.
You unlock it, find a name in your contacts list, and place it in his hand.
When he sees whose name it is, his fingers freeze around the device.
On the screen: “Felix.”
“I can’t…” he begins, his voice low.
“Yes, you can,” you reply. “Remember when you gave me his number? You said he was your ‘safe person.’ And right now, he doesn’t know if you’re dead in a ditch or hiding in another country. Neither do the others.”
Chan closes his eyes for a second, as if a wave of guilt were washing over him again.
“They don’t deserve for me to just show up like this, out of the blue, as if nothing happened,” he murmurs. “Not after leaving them hanging for so long.”
“That’s exactly why you can’t stay silent,” you reply. “You don’t have to have the perfect words. You don’t have to have a polished explanation. They just… need to know you’re alive. And that you’re coming back.”
He stares at the phone as if it weighed a ton.
For a few seconds, you think he’s going to leave it on his lap and put it off until who knows when.
But then, he takes a breath. His shoulders rise and fall.
“If I put it off… I’ll never do it,” he says, more to himself than to you.
He taps the screen and selects the call icon.
He brings the phone to his ear.
You stay by his side, in silence, your hand resting near his knee—not touching him, but offering your presence as an anchor.
The ringtone sounds once. Twice. Three times.
For a second, you fear Felix won’t answer.
Then, a click.
“Hello?” Felix’s voice sounds clear, though a little hoarse, as if he hadn’t slept well.
Chan closes her eyes.
It takes her a couple of seconds to find her voice.
“Lix…” he says at last, in a broken whisper. “It’s me.”
There is silence on the other end of the line.
A silence so thick you can almost hear Felix’s brain shutting down and restarting.
“Hyung…”—finally, the word comes out, trembling—“Where are you? Are you okay? Do you know what…?”
His voice cracks and trails off, as if he doesn’t know where to start.
Chan grips the edge of the sofa with his free hand.
“I’m sorry,” he says, bluntly.
He repeats it, as if those two words were the only solid thing he could cling to.
“I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry for disappearing. I’m sorry for not answering. I’m sorry for leaving you…”
“Hyung,” Felix interrupts him this time, his voice audibly trembling. “Don’t start with that now. Just… tell me: are you safe?”
Chan swallows hard.
He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, as if seeking strength.
You nod, giving him a look that says “I’m here.”
“I’m at…”—he has to clear his throat—“at… her place.” He doesn’t say her name, but Felix understands.
“I knew it,” the other one whispers, relieved yet with a touch of emotion. “Well, I didn’t ‘know’ it, but… I hoped that if you came back, you’d go to her first.”
You feel a lump of emotion in your throat.
“Lix…” Chan takes a deep breath. “I know I’ve been a mess with this. “I know I left you guys alone, which isn’t what a leader should do. I know that—”
“Hyung,” Felix interrupts again, this time more firmly. “You’re our leader because you’re human, not because you’re perfect.” His voice softens. “We’ve been waiting for you. All of us. And… there’s something I think you should know, too.”
Chan frowns, confused.
“What…?”
Felix pauses briefly, as if weighing his words.
“I’m not the only one who knows you were disappearing to a safe place,” he says. “I told them about her. Not too many details, but… they know you have someone important outside of us. And they’re… grateful. Because you weren’t completely alone.”
You feel the impact of those words on Chan as if it were physical.
His shoulders relax slightly.
“I don’t deserve for you to be grateful for something like that,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Felix.
But Felix hears it just the same.
“Well, we’re in the same boat,” he replies. “And, hyung…” His voice sounds a little brighter, despite his exhaustion. “Can you… come over? Not right now, with the storm and all, but…” A nervous giggle escapes him. “We’d like to see you. To see that it’s really you. And… I think there’s someone else who should officially meet us, right?
Your heart skips a beat.
Chan looks at you, waiting for your reaction.
You don’t hesitate.
You nod, with a small, shaky smile.
“You can come here,” he says then, slowly. “Tomorrow. Or when the storm stops. I’m not… I’m not ready to show up in the dorm yet. But…” He digs his fingers into the couch, nervous. “If you want, you can come.”
On the other end, you hear a sigh of relief that you could almost have sworn came from all of them at once, even though only Felix is speaking.
“I’m going to type in the chat right now,” he says. “Get ready for some drama, because Hyunjin is going to cry, Han is going to yell, and Seungmin is going to say it’s your fault for making him worry.” He laughs, with genuine warmth this time. “Hyung… thanks for calling.”
Chan closes his eyes, and for the first time since he walked through your door, the guilt in his expression takes a step back to make room for something else: relief.
“Thanks for… being there for her,” he replies suddenly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His words are for Felix, but his gaze is on you. “When I wasn’t.”
Felix pauses for a second before answering.
“Always,” he says. “She’s family by extension. If she’s important to you, she’s important to us.” His voice drops a little. “And you still are, too. Don’t try to argue with that.”
They end the call after a few more words, promises to text, tentative schedules depending on the storm.
When he hangs up, Chan sets the phone on the table, as if it weighs less than before.
He turns toward you.
There are still tears in his eyes, but also a new sparkle.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks. “It’s not the best setting to meet seven rowdy boys.”
You laugh, a mix of nervousness and tenderness.
“Of all the ways we imagined this would happen…” you say, picking up on that joke, “this one wasn’t on the list either. But yes. I want to meet them.” I want them to see who the person is who brought their leader back to them. And I also want them to see who the guy is that I call home when everything falls apart.
He looks down, his cheeks flushing slightly.
He leans toward you a little, resting his forehead on your shoulder again, as if that’s where he fits best.
He whispers, almost like a prayer:
“I’m going to try to believe that I deserve all of this. Your love. Them. The fans.” He takes a deep breath, and you feel that air as if it were yours too. “I’m going to try. Even if it takes me a while.”
You wrap an arm around his back, pulling him close to you.
“You don’t have to get there alone,” you reply. “We’ll do it together. Step by step. With or without problems.”
Outside, the storm continues to pound against the windows.
Inside, for the first time in weeks, the word “tomorrow” doesn’t sound so scary.
It even sounds a little hopeful.
You wake up before the alarm goes off.
For a couple of seconds, your brain can’t remember a thing. You’re only aware of the weight of the blanket, the distant murmur of the rain—which has now eased off—and the smell of clean cotton.
Then you feel the warmth beside you.
You turn over.
Chan is there, asleep on his side, with his back to you, breathing deeply. His hair, still a little messy from the night before, falls onto the back of his sweatshirt.
He stayed up late. After the call with Felix, you two kept talking for a while longer, but no longer about blame or drastic decisions. You talked about little things: what you’d missed on the live streams, some trainee anecdote he’d never told you before, what he missed most about the routines with the guys.
At some point, the conversation faded away. You rested your head on his chest, listening to a heartbeat that, for the first time in weeks, sounded close. He, with a hand on your back, let himself drift into a deep, exhausted sleep.
And now, he’s here.
Not a memory, not a projection of your anxiety. Here.
You sit up carefully so as not to wake him.
You remember Felix’s message from last night, before you went to sleep:
“The storm is clearing up. We can go tomorrow around 11, if that works for you. Get Hyung mentally prepared. And maybe have some tissues ready for Hyunjin and Han. 😂”
You check the time. It’s 8:40.
Perfect.
You get up quietly, wash your face, and pull your hair back a bit. Nothing too elaborate; you’re still you, but a slightly less haggard version than yesterday.
And then, you head to the kitchen.
You decide that, if you’re going to officially meet his family, you want your home to feel like… just that: a home.
You open the cabinets, take out eggs, flour, milk. You start making pancakes, some fruit, coffee, juice. It’s not a hotel buffet, but it’s the best you can do with what you have.
The smell of hot batter begins to fill the apartment.
You’re so focused on flipping a pancake without burning it that it takes you a second to notice the presence at the kitchen door.
“What are you doing up so early…?” Chan’s hoarse voice comes from the doorway.
You turn around.
He’s leaning against the doorframe, his hair even more tousled than before, his eyes puffy from sleep, his sweatshirt slipping slightly off one shoulder.
The scene is so domestic, so ordinary, that it hits you right in the chest.
“Breakfast,” you reply, as if it were obvious. “We’re having guests, aren’t we?”
He blinks, as if his brain is still starting up.
Then, the memory of last night comes flooding back. His eyes widen slightly, a mix of nerves and something like excitement.
“Oh… right,” he mutters. “The kids.”
He walks over, barefoot, and leans against the counter next to you, watching as you pour another batch of batter into the pan.
“It smells good,” he says. “Better than our dorm food, that’s for sure.”
You laugh, but the sound comes out a little muffled. The nerves you’d kept at bay while cooking come rushing back.
He notices.
“Hey,” he lowers his head slightly to catch your eye. “What’s wrong?”
You take a deep breath.
“I’m… nervous,” you confess, finally. “Really nervous.”
His eyebrows furrow tenderly.
“Why?”
You shoot her a look that says, “Are you seriously asking me that?”
“I’m going to meet the seven guys you love most in this world,” you explain. “The ones who’ve seen you at your best and worst. The ones who call you leader, family, hyung…” You flip the pancake too hard; it almost breaks in half. “And I’m going to do it in the context of your disappearance, of the fact that you were here, of the fact that I… exist.” You shrug. “How could I not be nervous?”
He watches you for a second, then smiles that gentle smile that has always disarmed you.
“They’re going to love you,” he says, with a confidence that contrasts with all his insecurities from last night. “They’ll probably fight over who gets to sit closest to you at the table.” He pauses. “And even if that weren’t the case…” He gently takes your chin, turning your face toward him. “You’re not on trial today.” I’m the one who needs to apologize, not you.
You sigh, but the pressure in your chest eases a little.
“I’m not worried about them ‘judging’ me,” you retort. “I just… want them to see that I’m on your side. That I wasn’t the reason you disappeared, but part of the reason you came back.”
He blinks, as if the words had struck him right in the heart.
He leans in and plants a quick kiss on your forehead.
“They already know that,” he whispers. “Felix made sure they understood.”
You let that sink in as you finish making breakfast.
Chan helps you set the table: he places plates, cutlery, and glasses. He pauses for a second when he sees the space.
His fingers rest on an empty plate, as if he could already see someone sitting there.
“It’s been a while since…” he murmurs, “since I’ve prepared anything for everyone.”
“You’re not cooking today,” you reply, giving him a gentle nudge with your hip. “Today you’re just a guest.”
He smiles, letting that idea sink in a little: for once, he doesn’t have to be the one holding everyone up. He can be the one being welcomed.
It’s 11:07 when the doorbell rings.
Your heart skips a beat, so hard it almost takes your breath away.
Chan tenses up too; his eyes instinctively dart toward the door, then back to you.
“I’ll get it,” he says, but he looks at you, as if asking if you’re ready.
You’re not. But you nod anyway.
He walks toward the door with slow steps, as if each one brings him closer to something he’s been both longing for and fearing for far too long.
You stay a few steps behind, close enough to see, far enough to give them space.
He opens the door.
The hallway suddenly fills with voices and energy.
“Hyung…” The first voice you recognize is Felix’s, choked with emotion.
Suddenly, there are too many people in your doorway: Felix in front, wearing a cap and mask, his eyes shining. Behind him, Changbin with his shoulders squared, Seungmin with a controlled expression, Jeongin peeking around a corner, Han and Hyunjin pressed close together, and Lee Know trying not to block the entrance.
For a second, everyone just stands there, staring at him.
Chan, in his sweatshirt, his hair still a little damp, his eyes red.
“Hi,” he says, his voice cracking on that single syllable.
That’s all it takes.
Felix is the first to move.
He crosses the distance in two long strides and throws himself into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around Chan’s torso, burying his face in his shoulder.
“You idiot,” he murmurs, his voice choked up. “Don’t ever do that again. Ever.”
Chan laughs through his tears, wrapping his arms around Felix’s back, squeezing him just as tight.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, over and over, against his hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Behind them, the dam breaks.
Changbin gently pushes Felix aside to slip his arms into the embrace as well, wrapping his arms around Chan from the other side.
“Do you know how hard it is to raise these kids on my own?” he complains, his voice thick but with an obvious tremor. “I don’t know how you’ve managed it for years, hyung, honestly.”
There’s a general burst of laughter, punctuated by sobs.
Han covers his mouth with his hand, his eyes already red, and then simply gives in and throws himself forward, hugging whoever he can.
“Hyuuung!” he cries dramatically, big tears rolling down his cheeks. “I thought you’d gone to Australia without us! Traitor!”
Hyunjin isn’t far behind.
His eyes shining even before he enters, he takes two steps and joins the group as well, hugging from behind, resting his forehead on Chan’s shoulder.
“I hate you,” he murmurs, in a whisper that fools no one. “I hate you for making me worry like this.”
Jeongin tries to keep his composure, but his eyes are also moist as he approaches, more timidly, and places a firm hand on Chan’s back.
“Welcome back, hyung,” he says, with a small but sincere smile.
Lee Know, standing nearby, crosses his arms as if trying to look tough, but his jaw trembles slightly.
“If you disappear without a word again, I’ll kick you out of bed,” he mutters, looking away as if that could hide the way his eyes are shining.
Seungmin is the last to step forward.
He’s been standing a little behind the others, with a half-smile that’s meant to be ironic, but his red ears give him away.
When he finally takes a step forward, he stands in front of Chan, while the rest slowly step aside just enough to make room for him.
“Hyung,” he says, crossing his arms. “You had me worried. Do you see the dark circles under my eyes now? You’re going to ruin my face, and the company insurance doesn’t cover that.”
There’s a small, general chuckle.
But his eyes, fixed on Chan, tell a different story. You can tell that if he blinks too much, tears will fall.
Chan lets out an awkward laugh, a mix of relief and guilt.
“I’m sorry, Seungmin,” he replies. “I really am.”
Seungmin makes a gesture with his hand, as if clearing the air.
“Just…” He swallows. “The next time you feel like you’re going to break, let us know before you do, okay? We’re not your fans. We’re your family.” He nods toward the others, who nod back, some discreetly wiping their eyes. “You don’t have to be the leader around us all the time.”
The words land heavily yet gently at the same time.
Chan nods, her eyes now completely filled with tears.
“I know,” he says, and for the first time, it sounds as if she truly believes it. “I’m learning. Thank you for… waiting for me.”
The whole group closes in for another hug, this time more chaotic, filled with snickering and pats on the back.
You watch from the sidelines, your chest tight and your eyes glistening too.
It’s like seeing a piece of something that has always been theirs, but of which you are now somehow an invisible part.
Suddenly, Felix steps away from the group, turns toward you, and waves.
“Hey,” he says, smiling, his cheeks still wet. “Come here.”
You notice seven pairs of eyes turning toward you, some curious, others already filled with warm suspicion.
You take a deep breath.
You step forward.
“Guys,” says Felix, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “This is… the person I told you about.”
For a second, no one quite knows what to do.
Then Changbin steps away from the group and approaches you with a mix of shyness and energy.
He bows deeply.
“Thank you,” he says, speaking slowly in Korean so you can understand. “For taking care of him when we couldn’t.”
You hurry to bow as well, shaking your head.
“I didn’t do that much,” you reply, nervously. “I just…”
“You did enough,” Lee Know interrupts, approaching now, his eyes still a little red but his expression steadier. “Enough so he had a place to come back to. And that’s a lot.”
Hyunjin stares at you for a moment, sizing you up, with that air of a dramatic prince that everyone knows. Then, suddenly, his eyes fill with tears again and he hugs you without warning.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs into your shoulder. “If I’d been more attentive… if I’d seen sooner how bad he was…”
You give him a few awkward pats on the back.
“It’s not your fault,” you say. “He hid himself very well. Even from himself.”
Han joins the side-hug, tucking his head between you and Hyunjin.
“Now you have to put up with all of us—sorry,” he jokes, his voice still hoarse from crying. “There are a lot of us. And we’re loud.”
You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine.
“I was already used to the noise of one,” you reply, looking at Chan. “I guess seven won’t be that different.”
“Disagree,” Jeongin mutters from behind, and everyone laughs.
Seungmin approaches with a small, crooked smile.
“If it ever gets unbearable,” he says, nodding toward Chan, “you can send him back to us. Lifetime warranty.”
“Yah!” Chan protests from the group, but he’s laughing.
Felix stands beside you, resting his arm lightly on your shoulder in a friendly gesture.
“You’re not alone in this anymore,” he whispers softly, just loud enough for you to hear. “There are plenty of us to support him. And to support you if we need to.”
Lo miras, agradecida.
“Thanks for… believing me that day,” you reply.
He shakes his head.
“Thanks for writing,” he says. “Without that message, we wouldn’t be here.”
You slowly make your way toward the living room and the table.
When they see the breakfast, there are various exclamations.
“Waaah, hyung, they’re treating you better than us!” Han complains dramatically, already holding a piece of pancake in his hand. “Is this what you’ve been eating while we were surviving on ramen?”
“He didn’t even cook it himself,” you say, raising an eyebrow.
“Double betrayal,” adds Changbin, dramatically clutching his chest.
Seungmin takes a bite, nods, impressed.
“We can adopt you as the group’s chef,” he says, with feigned seriousness. “Sorry, Chan hyung, you’ve got no excuse left to run off to cook when you don’t want to talk.”
The table is filled with laughter, gentle nudges, and overlapping conversations. Chan sits next to you; sometimes he speaks, sometimes he stays silent, just looking around, as if he wants to memorize every gesture, every voice.
At one point, while the others argue over who was the first to cry when they saw him (Hyunjin and Han blame each other, Jeongin tries to act tough), you notice Chan looking at you.
His expression is calm, very different from yesterday’s.
He leans toward you slightly, just enough to whisper in your ear so the others can’t hear.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “For not giving up on me. For calling him. For being here now, with all of us.”
You look at him, feeling your chest fill with something warm.
“I told you last night,” you reply, in a whisper. “I don’t want an ‘easier’ life without you. I want this one. With problems, with too many people at a small table, with noise, with bad days…” You smile. “As long as, at the end of the day, you keep coming back here.”
His eyes soften; he leans in slightly and brushes his nose against yours, an intimate gesture hidden amid the chaos.
“I’ll do it,” he promises. “Not just for you. For them. For me, too.”
You look up.
You see seven kids laughing, pushing each other, sampling breakfast, arguing over silly things. You see Chan by your side, lighter, surrounded by his chosen family and you.
Outside, the storm has died down to just a drizzle.
Inside, for the first time in a long time, everything feels… in sync.
Not perfect. Never perfect. But real. Honest. Shared.
And when that night, much later, you lie down on the couch with Chan, listening in the background to the group chat notifications exploding with memes about how much Hyunjin cried, you realize something simple and profound:
You don’t know what tomorrow will bring. You don’t know what new attacks, what new rumors, what new difficult nights await out there.
But now you know with a certainty that calms you:
You’ll face it together. He with his boys. He with you. And you with all of them.
And that, even though the world remains noisy and cruel at times, is more than enough.
Warnings: depictions of blood, heavily suggestive, biting, scratching, mentions of abduction, imprisonment, forceful actions. (there's a redemption arc dw), bombing, depictions of murder, angst
Genre: sorta dark romance-ish? (Nothing too deep), suggestive, vampiry stuff, stalking, eventual smut, angst (for this one, at least)
Synopsis: A method of destress suddenly added up to your stress as you found yourself deep into the woods while camping with no way back. You find yourself, not alone, but the other figure doesn't seem very safe. You suddenly feel a surge of dizziness kick in, your eyes close. And when they open again, you see... ?
A/N: Hey guuyyss~ This one's a little short because one, I sprained my wrist so it's a little hard for me to type (and I crossed the deadline cuz it's 12:27 AM, technically Friday, while I write this.) Things also got really overwhelming for me at home and at work and it was just really hard for me to get into writing since my head was all over the place. Hopefully the next chapter will be more details. Sorry for disappointing and thank you for being patient 🫶
Masterlist
TAG LIST: @bluesungology @capricorn-girl0112 @daysofskz-ateez @neginktn @finntastic325 @estella-novella @11racha
PREVIOUSLY...
"I am sorry for putting you through this. I will tell you soon. But for now... Trust me. I would never hurt you. I have lost you before, I won't again."
The words only made you sob harder, your body shaking from the force of your sobs. You buried your face in your hands, not knowing how you got here. All you wanted to do was to take some time to unwind and relax. Instead, you're stuck in a while new trouble.
EPISODE 3: Memories.
After crying for what felt like hours, your eyes finally ran out of tears to spill. Your throat felt like dry wood and it hurt to swallow. But despite the discomfort, you just sat still while staring out of the door that led to the balcony. The moon shone brightly, emanating ethereal rays into the dark room.
Another moment of silence later, you managed to push yourself off the floor and stand on your now wobbly feet. You grabbed the door handle for support, your eyes flickering to the note in your other hand.
"I would never hurt you."
"I lost you before, I won't again."
The words echoed in your mind, confusion filling your head. At some point, you had stopped feeling scared. All you felt was frustration and, perhaps, exhaustion. From just about everything, really.
You sighed softly, dragging yourself to the bathroom to wash up. The bathroom itself was equally grand. There was a big bathtub next to the shower. The water was still a little warm, suggesting it was filled up not too long ago.
Your body was now practically moving on autopilot. You stripped off your clothes, letting them fall to your feet without much care. You stepped into the bathtub, letting the slightly warm water envelope your entire body.
Unknowingly, another sigh slipped out of your lips. This time it was from finally feeling a semblance of calm. You stayed in the tub for what felt like another eternity. The events of the past month flashed across your vision as you stared up at the intricately designed ceiling.
At some point, the open window allowed a gush of wind to enter, the cool air hitting your soaked body and making you shiver. You looked outside, realizing the water had gone cold and it had gotten quite late. You didn't want to leave. Despite the coldness of the water, it felt relaxing. Almost like a hug.
But again, you're a functioning adult with more than two braincells, so you forced yourself out of the tub, letting the cold air make you shiver again. You wrapped a towel around yourself before making your way back into the room. The emptiness greeted you, along with the pajamas still neatly folded and untouched on your bed.
You hesitated for a moment before slowly grabbing the clothes and putting them on. The fabric was soft, delicate and very obviously expensive and luxurious. Something you were too scared to even dream about.
That night, you couldn't sleep. You just stared into nothingness, letting yourself process the entire day. The family you met in the camping site, the kids running around and laughing, you getting lost deep into the woods, that strange who claimed to be a vampire and finally... Your parents.
You remembered when they were still alive. You remembered your mom, her gentle hands stroking your hair as you cried into her lap because some stupid middle school kid decided to be mean to you. Your dad who always told you "if they make you cry again, just hit 'em! I'll take care of the rest for you, kiddo." You felt your eyes water at the memories. The way your mother would smack your dad for trying to turn you into a thug.
Something between a broken, bittersweet laugh and a sob escaped your lips. You buried your face in your pillow, letting the tears run again. The accident left a horrific scar in your mind. Something that will never fully heal. You still remember that night vividly. You were grabbing snacks from the gas station. Your parents were in the car waiting.
A heartbeat, a blink, an explosion. Your ears rang with a deafening boom as you watched your parents' car explode right in front of your eyes. They called it "caught in a crossfire". You called murder. You were old enough to know that bad people were behind your parents. You inherited everything.
But no amount of inheritance prepares you for a loss so great that it breaks you apart. No age is old enough to go through a grief so painful that you became a broken shell of yourself. Everyone surrounded you like a pack of hyenas, ready to tear apart your throat and swallow you whole. All smiles and sweet words, but you weren't dumb.
You were sure you'd die too, very soon. But for some reason, you survived years. Some kind of a quiet presence that sheltered you from the rain of grief like an umbrella and protected you from the flood of gunshots like an unbreakable armor.
You never knew who. Never knew how.
You looked up from your pillow, staring at the note that slipped from under the door that was now resting on the bedside table. That's when your vision started to blur, your eyelids felt heavy. You allowed them to close.
"I'll go get the snacks! You both stay put!" "Aww~ Is our little girl all grown up now?" Your mother's voice wafted to you like a warm embrace. "My kiddo's all grown." Your dad laughed, ruffling your hair. "Oh my god, you guys are being so dramatic! It's literally just snacks!" You protested, but deep down, you knew you loved the affection.
You slipped out of the backseat while your parents continued to sing along to the songs playing on the in-built car radio. You quickly ran into the gas station to grab the snacks. You'd make it just two steps out of the door when you saw it. A car flew past your parents'. You saw something being thrown from the car into yours.
And then, fire. Explosion. Screams that would forever haunt you.
You tried to tell. You begged for someone to listen. But everyone just called you hysterical. A child lost to the grief of losing her parents, spinning stories to cope.
Amidst it all, as you cried yourself to sleep, you felt arms around you. Big. Strong. Warm. "I'm scared..." Your voice came out in a small, shaky whisper. The arms around you tightened, pulling you into a tighter embrace.
"I got you."
You gasped back to reality, the sun shining through the thin curtains and illuminating your room in golden hues. You panted heavily, sweat sheening your skin. Your hand rested on the bed next to you. It felt like... someone was there next to you. Someone bigger.
You looked around, another note on the pillow next to the one you were sleeping on. "I came to check up on you. You looked like you were having a nightmare. I tried to wake you up but you pulled me close. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable. Come downstairs whenever you feel like eating." Same intricate handwriting. Same slight lean to the right. When did you notice so much?
The paper was cold like his hands. So why did it feel so warm? So familiar?
Summary: Your bestie met a cute guy in a bar and decided to give him *your* number, because she thinks you'd be great together.
You've had a rough time with dating in the past, no one ever really clicking like you wanted them to, but maybe this was a sign from the universe that this guy was meant for you.
Hopefully.
A/N: hehehe as a lot of you predicted... reveal coming soon hehe. Is it now? Is it next chapter? 👀 guess you'll have to see
(masterlist) | (part 4) -> (part 6)
You and Chris had been talking for nearly a week at this point. It honestly felt like you'd known him longer than that. He already felt like he'd been a part of your routine forever.
Unfortunately, with him being back home, his schedule was nearly opposite yours, now. The main times you got to talk were at the beginning and end of the day.
Although both of you were borderline night owls, so when you got up you still had a few hours to talk to him, and vice versa.
You made it work, though, and honestly it wasn't too bad. It gave you time to lock in and focus on work during the middle of the day when you didn’t have to worry about if Chris would reply to you.
Plus, it was nice to wake up to texts from him.
The night before the date, you were practically running around trying to get ready for it. You didn’t want to have to wake up even earlier just to clean first, you were already going to be up to get dressed and make yourself look nice, so you needed to do it now.
That meant finalizing where you wanted to do the video chat, moving your laptop to that spot, checking the lighting, checking that you could indeed stream Meet the Robinsons successfully-
To name a few things, at least.
Honestly, this felt even more stressful than an in-person date. For those, at least, usually you met up somewhere neutral so you only had to make sure you were presentable.
It was fine. This would be fine.
But just to make sure, you video chatted with your best friend during most of the process. Both for moral support and so she could help talk you out of your occasional anxious thoughts.
“So, what did you guys decide on for food?” Your bestie asked as you began to rummage through your closet and dresser for outfit options.
“Well, we decided to both order delivery,” you told her over your shoulder as you held up a shirt and stared at it for a moment before putting it back. “Since it’ll be later his time, I figured cooking would only like, delay him eating even more, you know? Plus, I don’t exactly want to cook a huge meal first thing in the morning. This way just seemed easier.”
“Yeah, no, that makes sense,” she agreed.
“Okay, but get this,” you continued, glancing over your shoulder to look at her, “The moment we agreed on that, what does he do? He sent me a $75 gift card to Door Dash.”
She gasped. “Oh hell yeah, as he should! But also, damn, that’s a lot for one dinner.”
“I know right?” You agreed. “I didn’t know how much the gift card was at first, cause it didn’t say on the link he sent, but when I saw it I had to like, process it for a moment.” You turned back to rummage in your closet more, pulling out one of your favorite pieces and bringing it over to the bed to add to your options. “Like, he said his job paid well, but still!”
She whistled. “Damn, if I had known he was a sugar daddy I would've snatched him up for myself.”
You snorted. “No you wouldn't.”
“Yeah you're right,” she laughed.
“Okay… Now help me pick an outfit,” you said, turning the camera so she could see the outfits you had laid out on the bed.
The two of you went through your clothes options for the next twenty minutes before you finally settled on something you were happy with. Setting it aside for the morning, you got ready for bed while still chatting with your bestie.
“I'm kinda nervous to finally see his face,” you admitted as you washed your face. “Like, I know you've seen him, and you know my taste, and I hate to think I'm shallow but like- I don't know!”
Your friend nodded. “I mean, I get it. Physical attraction is still important! But you can trust me.”
“Oh I know that,” you said. “My niche ass taste which apparently is any guy from Australia named Chris.”
Your friend laughed. “Exactly… like Chris Hemsworth.”
“And Chris from Stray Kids,” you pointed out.
Your friend blinked. “There's a guy named Chris in Stray Kids?”
You stared at her for a moment in shock. “Girl he's THE guy I constantly send you videos of!”
She throws her hands up in the air. “I thought his name was Chan!”
“It IS Chan, but it's also Chris,” you laughed.
“Ohhh…” she replied. “Well how was I supposed to know that?”
You laughed again.
“Well apparently all guys from Australia named Chris are hot, then,” she laughed also. “Promise me you won't crash out too hard when you see his face.”
“No promises,” you replied. “I still can't believe you didn't sneak a picture of him for me.”
“You could've asked him for one by now!” She countered.
“Yeah, yeah, I guess,” you agreed, sticking your tongue out at her.
The two of you talked for a little longer before you finally said goodnight and laid down in bed.
When your alarm went off in the morning, you quickly woke up. You weren’t usually one to spring out of bed immediately upon waking, but today was different.
You quickly headed into the bathroom to brush your teeth as you checked the notifications on your phone.
After washing up and brushing your teeth, you put on your outfit before fixing your hair.
Then, you headed out to your living room to where you had your laptop setup. You double checked that you had everything you needed: headphones, charging cords, nice lighting, all of it was there.
You took a deep breath and opened your phone camera to double check yourself once more.
God why were you so nervous? It was a first date. It wasn't even that serious.
I mean yes you liked Chris so far so you wanted to impress him, to a certain degree, but-
You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. You could do this.
You took a seat on the couch and sent a text to Chris letting him know you were ready whenever.
Your phone buzzed with a text.
“ok cool! I'll call in just a sec”
You took another deep breath.
Then, your phone buzzed.
“Incoming video call - Chris (bar guy)”
You didn't let yourself hesitate, just hitting the green answer button.
Your face popped up in the upper right corner of the screen. The camera from Chris's phone was currently showing what you assumed to be a ceiling.
“Sorry,” Chris laughed softly, somewhat nervously, “I just wanted to say something first and I knew it'd come across odd over text.”
You squinted, tilting your head a bit in confusion. “Like what?”
“Ah,” he hesitated. “Just… well- maybe it is better if I just show you.”
You were about to ask a follow up question when the camera shifted.
And into frame came a very familiar face wearing a sheepish grin.
Summary: Chan's at the studio and your home alone.
Chan let out a small sigh. He shook his head lightly as he leaned back in his seat. He was trying to get this song sorted. He wanted to go home; Binnie and Ji had both headed home hours ago. But here he still was, working on this damn song, trying to get the arrangement right. He took off his headphones and rubbed his face. A ping turned his attention to his phone.
Sugar on My Tongue🍯: Channie! When are you coming home? I’m lonely without you. 🥺
Chan couldn’t help but smile seeing your text on the screen. He picked up his phone and unlocked it to text you back.
K-Dilf 🐺: I’ll be another few hours, Honey Bear. This track won’t finish itself. 🙃
Sugar on My Tongue🍯: You don’t know that. Come home, and we can test that theory!
K-Dilf 🐺: Honey, we both know that’s not how it works. I’ll be home later. Okay?
Sugar on My Tongue🍯: No! Not okay. Innie’s at Minnie and Lixie’s dorm. I’m bored and alone! In an EMPTY dorm! Come home! Pls pls pls! 🥺
K-Dilf 🐺: Baby, get some sleep. I’ll be home later. I promise. Why don’t you run yourself a nice bubble bath?
Sugar on My Tongue🍯: Sent 1 image.
Sugar on My Tongue🍯: Wanna come home now? ❤
Chan opened the image and almost choked on his own spit. There you were, dressed as his favourite Genshin Impact girl, just more revealing. You were playing a dangerous game, and you were winning. He blinked before saving his work and turning his laptop off.
K-Dilf 🐺: You can’t just send pictures like that whilst I’m working, my heart.
Sugar on My Tongue🍯: Why not? I know Bin and Ji already went home.
Chan sucked in a breath as he put his laptop in his bag.
K-Dilf 🐺: DON’T talk about the other members right now. Stay there, I’ll be home soon.
Sugar on My Tongue🍯: Yipee! I can’t wait.
K-Dilf 🐺: No touching before I get there.
Chan put on his jacket and turned off the lights before leaving the studio. He locked the door and walked away, heading to his car. You always got exactly what you wanted. He always gave in to you. How could he not? You were his heart. The woman of his dreams. He’d give you the world if you asked him to.
Chan walked to his car and unlocked it. He put his bag inside and got into the driver's seat. He started the car and strapped in. He sent one last text before he drove home.
K-Dilf 🐺: My poor, baby bear. Must be lonely having the dorm to yourself. I’ll be home soon. Don’t worry. Maybe this time will stick. Maybe this time, we’ll make it so you're never lonely at home again.
