kinktober #o17 | glory
KINKTOBER 2023 || jinxhallows glory (praise kink) || chan x fem!reader summary: you and chan met as volunteers for the local cabaret theatre, working as stagehands, but when it blossoms into something more, and the temperatures drop below freezing, chan figures out a way to warm you up, and fast... warnings: praise kink, and all that entails, plot heavy, fluffy, lots and lots of praise, 'daddy' petnames, non-idol AU
word count: 4k masterlist - click here
The first time he let it slip, you two were still just friends.
You both volunteered as stagehands at the downtown cabaret theater, and you had been sent out to purchase some last-minute supplies. Your coat was dripping wet over your arm from running through the rain, a shopping basket hooked in the crook of your opposite elbow, and you held the phone to your ear, spinning around to decipher the location of the checkout.
"Did you get the safety pins?" Chan's voice came through the phone.
You nodded, even though Chan couldn't see you. "Yeah."
"And-"
"I also got the glue gun sticks, an extra pack of AA batteries, and a small can of black acrylic paint," you rattled off.
"Good girl," Chan responded, genuinely impressed.
At the time, he had no idea that his words had a much different impact on you than he could have ever imagined. The idea of him praising you under very different circumstances had ignited a fire within you, one you couldn't ignore.
The season progressed and Chan worked up the courage to ask you out for drinks and now you two are barely two months into a very new relationship. Still working together, now as hired staff seasonally, at the cabaret theatre, you two are now working together on helping out with the production of A Christmas Carol. It’s two months until showtime, so you’re in the thick of things, managing a team of stage designers. Chan is managing the costume department and overseeing music direction. He has a brief gap between meetings, so he decides to surprise you by grabbing your favorite drink and muffin from the local coffee shop. After leaving a generous tip in the paper cup at the front of the register, he heads back to the theater through the brisk winter cold.
Chan enters the theater's workshop, finding you in your office. He closes the door behind him, greets you with a kiss and your drink, and then takes off his coat. As he hangs it on the nearby coat rack, you take a sip of the drink, savoring the warm, spicy flavors of your favorite spiced winter beverage. Opening the small, white paper bag, you take out your favorite muffin. "I needed this so badly. I was late this morning and couldn't grab breakfast."
"Why didn't you call? You know I could've picked you up," Chan says, sitting on the edge of your desk as you ease into your chair. You blow on your drink, preparing it for a sip. "Your car's been in the shop for weeks now. Any word on what's going on with it?"
You pause for a moment, taking a sip of your drink as you ponder how to address the issue. You've been avoiding Chan's questions about your mode of transportation since receiving the bad news. You're hesitant to reveal that you don't have everything under control, fearing it might push Chan away. After swallowing, you gather your thoughts and finally speak up.
"It's gonna be a while," you say, your voice tinged with a touch of uncertainty.
At this point, Chan has confirmed his suspicion that you're intentionally keeping this information from him. He nods, taking in your response, and glances at his watch. Fiddling with one of its links, he contemplates whether you've been together long enough for him to press you about these matters. He doesn't want to start an argument or intrude on your privacy, but he's genuinely concerned, especially with the weather getting colder and the distance you live from the theatre.
"That... doesn't sound good," Chan finally says, after you've taken another sip, looking back at you. You can feel the hesitation in his words and sense that he's holding something back. Your fingers nervously tap against your cup in an unknown rhythm that's stuck in your head. "Yeah, the engine, it's kind of... shot," you say, tapping the cup at a higher tempo. You find the lid of your cup more interesting than Chan's attempt to hide his shock. He knows he's not great at concealing his emotions, and he clears his throat, suddenly fascinated by his watch.
"Wow, that's... I'm sorry to hear that. Engine troubles can be expensive. You know if you need any help at all—"
"I'm just getting another car. I've been looking, but I haven't had the time yet, especially with the production coming up, so I've been taking the trains. I'm okay, though, Chan, really," you reassure him. Setting your cup down, you interlock your fingers, resting your chin on them, and offer him a disarming smile.
"Since you've had time to come visit me, I'm guessing you're ahead of schedule?" you inquire, relieved when you see his focus shift, steering the conversation in a different direction.
For now, you've evaded his questions again.
"Like a well-oiled machine. In fact, there's a little bit left over in the budget to get the fog machine fixed."
"Chan!" you laugh, "How did you manage that?"
"A few people owed me a few favors. I know how much you wanted to give those Ghost of Christmas Future scenes more ambiance." Chan embraces you, and you eagerly rush into his open arms, hugging him tightly, the scent of his shampoo and cologne filling your senses. When you let go, he slowly turns you around in his embrace, his arms encircling your body, your back against his chest.
"Thank you for this. Oh, Hailey will be so excited to hear this, and Thomas, we'll have to space out the set for Act Three, but that's no problem. I—" You stop yourself, your hand on your forehead as you catch yourself from rambling again. Chan loves seeing you excited like this, so he never stops you during your enthusiastic outbursts. You turn around, your arms resting on his shoulders, and you kiss him, expressing your gratitude with a hundred silent thank-yous.
Chan finds the courage to speak out, his hands gently resting along your waist. "Please let me give you a ride, at least to and from here. You live outside the city, and I'd feel better knowing you're safe in this cold." He anticipates a rebuttal and adds, "Just for the cabaret. Whatever else you do is your business, but if you did need me for other rides, I'd be up for it—just needed to get that out there," nodding affirmatively to you and himself.
You decide to accept his offer this time. You had guessed wrong; it had never left his mind the entire time.
"Fine," you roll your eyes with a small smirk, "I just know you live in the city, and that's out of your way."
"It's not, honest," Chan stands up and leans forward, kissing your forehead. "You're really special to me." With a smile, he heads out and adds, "I'll meet you in the lobby after rehearsal."
"You're really special to me..."
Those words reverberate in your mind for the next four hours of work. They're louder than the hammering of nails into wooden boards, louder than saws cutting through plywood, and even louder than the timpanis in the orchestra pit.
As you work, your head down while distressing the paint on the side of a fake building, you can hear Chan stopping and starting the musicians, going over pieces meticulously. It's hard not to lock eyes with him when he glances over at you occasionally.
Unbeknownst to you, Chan is entranced by the way you bring a vision to life, ingeniously assembling pieces that leave him baffled. He observes you walking among other stagehands, adeptly adjusting a streetlamp, your gloved hands confidently resting on your hips, toolbelt hanging down. You point, shake your head, and oversee adjustments, stepping back and tilting your head, scrutinizing it from various angles before granting it a thumbs-up.
Every so often, you cast an inconspicuous glance over your shoulder, but Chan has already shifted his focus long enough to deceive you into thinking he wasn't watching. He splits his attention between you and the piano, directing the musicians, a sight he relishes.
At one point, a designer stands beside the piano with a partially costumed actor, waiting for the right moment to approach Chan. The designer holds up a piece of velvet red fabric against the navy blue costume.
"Was thinking maybe this material?" the stylist asks.
"Nah, not really, the blue is better against the gold buttons," Chan nods, providing his expert opinion.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Thomas' voice teases, breaking your focus and startling you from your reverie.
"Oldest one in the book. And corniest," you quip back.
"Don't do it, boo. I'd be distracted if Chan were mine too," Thomas remarks, and you both sneak another glance in Chan's direction. "He is a delicious piece of sweet potato pie, ain't he?"
You nudge Thomas playfully, and both of you head backstage.
As the day concludes, everyone gathers around for announcements and updates from the director. Afterward, people begin to disperse. You're embraced by hugs from Thomas and other crew members who've become like family. The holiday break is upon you, and some are leaving town to enjoy their vacation. The lobby teems with people, and amid the crowd, you spot Chan. You hear him chatting with others, and as he finishes, his expression brightens as he spots you.
You’re really special to me… You give Chan a warm hug. It's cozy inside, a welcome refuge from the cold winter winds outside.
"Ready?" he asks with a grin.
You nod, and together, you make your way to the exit. The bitter cold greets you as you step outside, and the wind feels like needles on your exposed cheeks. You tug your scarf up around your nose to protect yourself from the icy gusts. Chan holds you even closer as you both step out into the open, and he opens the passenger door of his nearby parked car.
The car's interior offers immediate warmth, and you welcome it with relief. Chan yawns as the silence settles in around you. He had a busy but good day, and now he's just as eager to hear about yours, especially after getting lost in watching you do your thing.
"Are you sure you wanna do this? Like, drive me all the way home?" you ask, your voice tinged with doubt.
"Yes, I want to drive you all the way home," Chan says with a chuckle. He starts the car, shifting it into reverse to back out of the parking space. "And then I want to walk you all the way to your door, and then I want to kiss you, like we're a couple of teenagers from the fifties."
You laugh at his sweet sentiment.
"I'm serious! You make this relationship thing feel like it's worth something, like it's something I can do... forever," Chan says. He starts to feel a little self-conscious about gushing and quickly dials it back. "You're just... really special to me." There it is again.
"Chan," you begin, and there's a moment of hesitation.
"Yeah?" Chan's gaze remains fixed on the road, but he's eager to hear your words.
"I love you," you say, surprising both yourself and him with the sudden confession.
Each quiet second Chan spends frozen on the road ahead makes you want to backpedal. It’s too soon. Are you dumb? He’s gonna think you’re crazy. It’s not even three months yet.
“I love you too.” He says, and it comes out like his own kind of word vomit, at the tail end of his ruminating thoughts of whether or not you actually meant your statement. Then he guilts himself for doubting the expression of your feelings. Chan would just like to get out of his own head for thirty seconds.
"Ok, now that that's settled," you say, your humor helping to break the tension, and you settle into your seat with a sigh. "I'm sorry I get so weird about you helping me sometimes. I just feel like you have your shit together, and I'm still trying to figure it all out. I know you didn't sign up to get a girlfriend with a bunch of problems—baggage."
Chan snorts, a mixture of amusement and relief. He's glad to hear that this is what's been on your mind, that you've been carrying a self-imposed burden. He appreciates the vulnerability in your words. Sometimes he needs to feel needed, especially in a relationship.
"I'm not sure what your definition of having my shit together is, but this version of me, isn't it," he says with a smile. "I didn't sign up for a girlfriend with a perfect life. I signed up for Y/N, and all that comes with her. How dare you short me the fries to my combo?"
You both share a laugh, and as the car settles into the quiet hum of the engine, you notice snow falling and sticking to the slushy roads as you leave the city behind and enter the suburbs. You check the weather forecast on your phone, prompting you to speak up.
"There's a frost advisory tonight, love," you muse. "You think you should stay over tonight? The roads are gonna be awful."
Chan hadn't planned on it, but he realizes he has nothing urgent to rush home to, and he's getting pretty tired too.
"Good idea."
It takes another thirty minutes, but soon, Chan is pulling into your driveway, turning off the car and walking you to your door just as he said he would. He waits patiently next to you, his hands warming in his pockets as he looks around at the snow falling and piling up, covering the black streets in blinding white reflected against the streetlights.
It's a perfect night to snuggle with a special someone.
You turn on the music, an old Aqualung album filling the former silence, making the blanket of white outside look even more magical. You had never found yourself enjoying the quiet company of another until you started dating Chan. It's a new experience for both of you since you can get lost in conversation for hours. But with Chan, there's no pressure to keep coming up with new topics. It's one of the many reasons why he enjoys your company. He can just be himself around you.
You come over to join Chan as he sits on the floor against the couch. He initially begins to unfold his crossed legs to make room for you, but you extend a leg over his, straddling him instead, holding two cups of hot cocoa in your hands.
"Oh, well hello, beautiful," he chuckles, taking one of the mugs from you.
The way he says it makes your heart flutter, and you can't help but tease him. You sip your drink, looking at him with a mischievous gaze. "There's just something about the way you say those things to me."
"What things, baby?" Chan asks, playing along. He knows what you mean, but he loves hearing it from you. "When I tell you how pretty you are? How I get caught staring at you at work at least five times a day by the other volunteers?"
You can't contain your giggles, and he takes your mug and his, placing them on the coffee table as he cups your face. "I can feel how hot your cheeks are getting too."
"Because!"
"Because why? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't list every reason why I've fallen in love with you to your face."
You bite your lip, realizing Chan's winning the playful banter. He holds onto your hips, shifting himself underneath you and readjusting, all while focusing on being romantic rather than all the nasty things he wants to do to you with you straddling him like this.
He kisses you, gently at first, and then more passionately. "For one, you are beautiful. Anyone with eyes can see that..." You notice the drop in Chan's volume and the edge his tone gains, making you crave him in ways you haven’t been able t0 have him yet. “I like that.” “Yeah? You do? You should, ‘cause you’re a pretty girl, my pretty girl of course.” Chan's eyes linger on your lips, and you lean forward, capturing his lips in a single kiss that leaves both of you lingering, breathing heavily, your faces close.
"Call me your pretty girl again, and you might start something you can't finish."
"Who says I can't finish it, pretty girl?" Chan counters with a sly smile, his lips dangerously close to yours.
Chan is the next to initiate another kiss, drawing you into a passionate embrace. His hands trail up the bare skin of your back, hidden beneath your hoodie, leaving a trail of sinfire in their wake. You lean your head back with a gasp as he hums against your neck.
"Listen to those breaths you take, so sweet for me," Chan says, eager to hear more of your reactions. He sucks hard enough to leave a bruise under your collarbone, making you gasp in response.
"Oh my God, Chan, I—" You start to express concern, but the juxtaposition of his arousal and your own, both concealed beneath clothing, interrupts your common sense. He shouldn't be marking you up like this. You realize you'll need to wear a turtleneck or a collared shirt to cover your collarbone. “B-Be careful-”
"I'm sorry, baby. You're just so intoxicating, you know that?" Chan manages to peel himself away from devouring you for a brief moment, a feat that takes immense self-control. "And you have the most adorable smile."
You try to hide your smile, but he pulls your arm away. "No, let me see it. Look at how you get when I compliment you. I can't tell if you love it or hate it, but it's damn hot seeing you get all shy like this. Makes me want to say more, see how else your body responds to me."
"I think it's turning me on," you admit, your voice slightly shaky, and a coy smile forms on your lips.
“You think?” Chan states more than questions, running his nose and lips against your chest, peppering kisses up your neckline. He sucks again, leaving another mark, this time closer to your jaw. You moan in response, and he tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss. Your lips bruise against his, swollen as he pulls back, looking up at you as if you were Aphrodite herself.
“Thank you, babygirl. I’m sorry I left a couple of marks.”
“It’s okay, you should leave a couple more.”
So Chan does just that.
You hold onto his neck as he moves forward, pressing you into the floor, lifting your hoodie up and sliding it over your arms so he can lay more open-mouthed, deliciously wet kisses down to your navel. He dips his tongue in, taking your piercing between his teeth. Your back arches, and he's going for your jeans, ready to unbutton them, but he stops, sitting up on his knees.
Chan knows if he goes any further, it would be akin to dragging him from quicksand.
He has to ask first.
“We’ve never gone this far,” Chan says, feeling somewhat awkward for not just outright asking you. You realize, of course, that you two haven't gone this far, but Chan wants to ensure you're comfortable. How much further are you willing to go? Chan can easily wrap things up right here, but the way you're writhing underneath his lips every time they press into your skin, leading further and further down south; Chan needs you to tell him otherwise. “I want to go further,” you say, your thumbs hooked into the top of your pants. “You told me you'd finish it, didn't you?”
You assist him in getting your bottoms off, and he nuzzles against the damp fabric of your panties, taking in your scent. “Had no idea you’d smell this amazing,” Chan says, pulling your panties aside to slip a finger in, curling it up. “You must really want me, hmm?”
“Mhm, I do.”
“Can you take more fingers, baby?” “Yeah, I can,” you nod fervently, vigorously, eager to feel him spread you further. Chan gets two more fingers inside of you, and he pulls the panties even further around your lips, leaning down to kiss and suck your clit. He enjoys the way his saliva catches the light as you buck your hips up.
“Prettiest pussy I've ever seen, babygirl. Are you going to let my cock feel it too?”
“Yes, please, daddy?”
Chan has to process the fact that you've called him this. He nearly short-circuits.
“You must want to be my good girl tonight,” he says as he pulls off his hoodie, tossing it aside and unbuttoning his pants.
“I'd give anything to be your good girl, Chan.”
“Anything?”
His fat cock slaps against your wet slit as he holds it firmly. “Anything.” you begin to twist your hips, attempting to grind in a way that will make him slide inside you. You're wet, it's spread everywhere, slicking your inner thighs and cheeks. All it takes is one good thrust, and he can –
“I want this, right here,” his firm taps stop you in place, and his eyes lock onto yours as he pushes his cockhead between your folds, stopping as soon as he's sheathed inside, feeling your walls begging for more. “You feel so wet, baby. Is this for me?” he asks, inching inside until he's halfway in. Chan wants to stop, but the sensation of your walls squeezing him proves to be too much, and he bottoms out inside of you.
“Yes!” You cry out, stronger and louder than you intended, spawning Chan to thrust again, rutting into you. He doesn't always go deep; in fact, he's stroking you at just the right angle to make you see stars as you drag your almond nails down his back, feeling his muscles tense under your touch.
“S-sorry,” you hiss, your head falling against the floor as you cum around his cock. “Keep it up, baby,” he encourages you, “You look so good taking me like this right now, so fucking good.”
"I-I look—"
His firm grip on the strands of your hair at the nape of your neck forces your gaze upwards, compelling you to meet his intense, smoldering eyes.
"Beautiful," he breathes as his thrusts take on a deliberate, measured pace. Each motion propels you closer to the precipice of another orgasm, and you can barely keep your eyes open. His hand presses flat against your head, angling it so you can witness the raw, primal connection between your two bodies. "You look beautiful, say it." You gasp and muster the strength to whisper, "Beautiful," as he introduces two of his fingers to your lips. You eagerly accept them, your tongue tantalizingly caressing the pads of his digits, still bearing traces of your earlier essence. He withdraws his fingers and expertly circles your clit with confident, steady pressure, evoking whimpering pleas from deep within you.
"Such a good girl," he praises with a low, smoky voice, pride lacing every word. "I'm so proud of you, baby. Can you cum again for me? I just wanna see that face one more time.” He wants to etch the vision of your blissed-out expression into the depths of his consciousness, ensuring it's the first thing he sees every morning as he awakens with thoughts of you. Instinctively, you attempt to shield your contorted, furrowed brows with your hands, but Chan swiftly restrains your wrists, pinning them above your head with a powerful grip. His other hand intensifies its attentions to your clit, moving more vigorously. He pairs this with shallow, accurate thrusts,each one striking your g-spot with unerring accuracy, causing you to unravel until you could think no more. You’ve been fucked dumb, for the first time in your life. As you gradually return to your senses, you struggle to find words or even make sense of how another human being can make you feel this extraordinary.
Amidst the haze of your post-orgasmic stupor, a lucid thought pierces through: sex is a potent, heady concoction, a force to be reckoned with.
Then, the second wave of awareness washes over you when you hear Chan's voice, close to your ear, whispering those two potent words, "Good girl." - fin
