"Say it again," you murmur, rolling your hips slowly, watching the way Chan's breath hitches beneath you. His fingers dig into your thighs, blunt nails leaving half moons in your skin, but he doesn't dare move — not unless you tell him to.
"You're filthy," you tell him, not unkindly, dragging a thumb over his bottom lip. His mouth falls open instantly, obedient, and you can see the way his throat works as he swallows, like he’s already tasting what he’s about to beg for.
he tries thrusting up into you but stopping short when you click your tongue. "Please," he gasps, pupils blown wide, chest heaving, "Please, just—"
"please what again?" you tease, slowing your hips to a maddening stop, your thighs bracketing his trembling body. "Use your words, baby."
Chan whimpers, the sound punched out of him when you roll your hips just once, just enough to make his back arch off the bed. "spit," he chokes out, voice wrecked, "In my—in my mouth, please, please—"
The laugh that slips from your lips is low, indulgent, you don’t let him move, pressing a palm flat against his stomach to pin him down.
His mouth is still open, lips slick with saliva, and you can see the faint tremor in his jaw as he waits — always waiting, so good for you.
"so desperate," you muse, dragging your thumb along his lower lip again, this time pressing down just hard enough to make him whine. His tongue darts out instinctively, wetting your skin, and you hum approvingly. "Look at you. Begging for it like some cheap slut." The words make him grip on your waist even tighter, his cock twitching inside you as a fresh wave of heat pulses between your thighs.
You lean forward, letting your hair curtain around both of your faces, close enough that his ragged breaths fog against your lips. His eyes are wild, unfocused, "open," you murmur, wrapping a hand around his throat, and he obeys instantly.
You let the spit pool in your mouth for a second, just to watch his chest stutter with anticipation, his hips jerking helplessly beneath you like he’s already halfway there, his breath coming in ragged, wet gasps. When you finally let it fall, it lands heavy on his tongue, and the sound he makes is filthy, a punched out groan that rattles his ribs as his entire body seizes up beneath you.
and that's not surprisingly all it took
"Gonna—" he manages, his eyes roll back, lashes fluttering, and for a second, he looks ruined, his lips still parted around your spit, his throat working as he swallows it down like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.
"Gonna cum, fuck, I’m—" The warning spills out of him, broken, his voice cracking as his fingers claw at your hips to frantically fuck up into you.
You don’t stop him —couldn’t even if you wanted to, not with the way his hips stutter beneath you, his cock jerking inside you as his orgasm rips through him without warning.
His back arches off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as he spills into you in hot, pulsing waves. His thighs shake against yours, his breath coming in ragged, punched out gasps as he fell apart beneath you.
your fingers comb through the sweat damp hair at his temples, watching his eyelashes flutter as he struggles to focus on your face. His chest heaves, his skin flushed pink "Just a little spit in your mouth, and you fell apart like that?"
a/n: 'reader' bouta make me bust and Im the one writing her
Summary: You suppose this was how you died. This was supposed to just be a fun group trip with your brother and his friends, a trip to celebrate their latest album and an excuse to spoil your little brother (even though he certainly didn’t need it, not with his success). You supposed you should have known something would go wrong, with how much chaos the boys bring with them.
Because what you hadn’t expected was a scheduling mix up, leaving you all one room short for the stay. And you certainly hadn’t expected anyone to agree with a drunk Han Jisung that you should all pull straws to see who has to share a room. And what you most certainly had not expected was for you to end up in a full-sized bed with the boy you’ve been pretending not to make eyes at this whole time, just close enough to each other that your breath starts to swirl together in the darkness.
Yeah, this might be how you die.
Warnings: only one bed trope, sub!bang chan, dom!Jeongin’s sibling!reader, dubcon at the start, accidental somnophilia?, oral (Chan!receiving), pentration (reader!receiving), overstimulation (Chan!receiving), swearing
w.c.: 10.6K
– – –
"Day 3" except it is MANY days late ㅠㅠ This will always be one of my favorite tropes, and it felt very fitting for Channie! I suppose this is also a little bit "best friend's sibling" but I don't dig into that trope hard enough for it to get a mention. I hope, despite the late timing, that you guys still enjoy!
Your brother had called you three weeks ago and told you to clear your schedule two weeks in advance. Something about finally having two weeks off, and something about a vacation…honestly, when he first called, you were only half listening, occupied folding your laundry while it was still warm and pleasant against your skin. You had assumed “vacation” had simply meant a break from work, time for the two of you to spend together in the comfort of your homes, not an actual vacation. Imagine your surprise when the call ends and he’s forwarding you roundtrip plane tickets to Hawaii. You immediately call him back, laundry going cold on your bed.
“Yang Jeongin.”
“Yes?” he says hesitantly.
“Why didn’t you lead with ‘we’re going to Hawaii’?? Also, how much are these tickets?? I have my own money Innie-yah, I can’t let you pay for any of this. You’re my namdongsaeng, not my hyung. I spoil you, not the other way around.”
He just laughs mischievously, that little shit. “Everything’s already paid for~ You can’t do anything about it.”
You can picture the stupid grin he has plastered across his face, eyes crescents and crinkled in a way that never bodes well for you.
“You don’t pay for a single thing while we’re there then,” you respond, “Adn don’t tell me you already paid for the hotel…”
His giggle in response is enough to make you groan.
“Jeongin.”
“Ooooh, full name,” he says, voice full of trouble, “Am I in trouble??”
“Whatever. Whatever! What is this for, anyways?”
“They finally gave us a holiday,” is his only response, “We just had to compose and produce a whole song about it to get one. Light work, really.”
You snort, rolling your eyes. “Naturally. And I’m coming because…? Shouldn’t this be about you and the boys?”
“There’s no me without you,” he says firmly, like it’s a fact of the universe, “I wouldn’t have been able to be where I am without you in my life; I would’ve quit a long time ago. So you get to come on the vacations. They all love you anyways. Pluuuuus, Chan-hyung definitely has a crush on you.”
“Are we in high school?” you retort, though it’s weak, and your cheeks are heating up, “Shut up. And for the record, he definitely doesn’t.”
“Well you have a crush on him.”
You splutter, grateful you didn’t facetime him, because you’re pretty sure the flush is spreading down your neck, “I do not. Shut up, bro. Leave me be.”
He just makes a noncommittal sound in his throat, a knowing one. You yelp back, and then there’s two seconds of tense silence, before the both of you are bursting out in a fit of giggles.
And now, two weeks later, you’re here. In Hawaii. The flight had been too expensive for your tastes, the kind of private jet experience that you thought people only got if they were in the movies or Taylor Swift. Having borderline personal flight attendants and full course meals on the flight wasn’t something you had anticipated, and wasn’t something you were looking forward too on the way back. The attention was a liiiittle too much at times, the two poor girls hovering at the front unless needed for basically the whole flight. The rest of them might be used to this kind of treatment, but you were not.
“Didn’t bring the rest of the family?” Hyunjin jabbed at Jeongin, grinning. “What’s so special about that one?”
“You did not just call me ‘that one,’” you squawked back, indignant, “Take that back right now. Hey. Jinnie. Hey. Take that back!”
You fake lunge at him and watch him yelp, scurrying off to hide behind Changbin, who puffs up at you.
“Unfair.” You say, right as Chan pipes up.
“Two seconds of peace, that’s all I ask for,” he says, groaning, “Why did I sign up for this?”
“Appa, appa, we want ice cream!” Han jokes, pitching his voice up an octave to sound like a little kid.
“Appa, appa, are we there yet?” Felix mimics, stomping his feet, “I wanna be theeere already!”
Chan just groans louder and starts to walk into the hotel. The drive from the airport to the hotel had been quiet, people still rubbing the hint of sleep from their eyes and voices, but now that you’re all out of the car and moving, the normal chaos has been restored.
The clock in the lobby of the hotel reads “12:49pm”, and the jet lag is already making your body a little sluggish. You know there’s plans tonight - someone wants to see the sun set over the water, and there’s some fancy dinner place reserved for afterwards - but your bones are aching a bit, calling for you to fall into your hotel bed and nap for a while. Depending on when sunset is, you might just do that.
“Hi there, we’re checking in for Christopher? Christopher Bang?” Chan’s at the desk already, idol voice on as he talks to the receptionist.
She clicks through a couple buttons on the computer, and then reaches out her hand. “ID?”
He passes it over, and she inspects it, nodding like it’s shown her the answers to the universe.
“I’ve got eight rooms, fifth floor, rooms 512-519? Does that sound right?”
Chan freezes, then blinks at her, wide-eyed. “Uhmm, it should be nine rooms, I believe.”
She hums, fiddling with the computer again before nodding. “We had unexpected damage in 520, so we can’t have guests staying in it right now. You should’ve gotten an email? You’ve already been refunded for that room, but I unfortunately don’t have any other openings until…”
She taps a few more buttons, fingers flying across the keyboard. “...four days from now. I can get you that room for the end of your stay?”
“No, no, that’s not necessary,” Jeongin chimes in, like he’s the group spokesperson, “We’ll make it work. Thank you!”
She nods, relieved that someone stepped in before Chan’s heavy stare burned a hole through her head. She pulls the keys out from a drawer under the desk and nods at all of you, sliding them across the cool marble.
“You’re all set then! Enjoy your stay.”
Jeongin swipes the keys before Chan can grab them, and he gets an exasperated look in response.
“You little shit,” Chan says, in English, and you laugh, “Ayen-ah. Give those back.”
“No, that’s okay,” Jeongin says, already rolling his luggage towards the elevator, “I’ve got it, hyung.”
The rest of them follow Jeongin like sheep, unaware of you and Chan hovering at the desk still.
“I don’t know how I’m related to him,” you say with a sigh, though it’s tinged with laughter, “Sorry about him.”
“Yah, we spoil him too much,” Chan says, starting to move towards the elevator after them, “He’s getting a complex.”
“We? You mean you all,” you huff, following after him, “Don’t lump me in with you freaks.”
“You agreed to be here with us freaks, doesn’t that make you a freak, too?” Chan says, tone teasing.
Everyone decides that it’s best to just throw all of the luggage in one room and figure out the rooming situation later. No one wants to deal with it now, not after the long, long flight, and Han is already bouncing off the walls, yammering on and on about going out to see the sights. Despite everyone pointing out to him that you all have all week, Jisung doesn’t care, and he insists that you have a “group adventure” (his words, not yours).
“It’ll be fun!” He repeats for the fifth time in the last two minutes (a new record), “We’re in Hawaii. Let’s not waste our time!”
You all follow along, and admittedly, even with that dull edge of tired energy in your body, you do have fun. The nine of you are chaos, too jacked up by finally being free from schedules (and you from work) to care that the locals give you all strange looks. You suppose a gaggle of what are clearly Korean tourists aren’t abnormal, but a group like you guys is probably an oddity. Hyunjin’s already speaking in rapid Korean with some lady at the “underground market” Jisung found (on a tourism page, so how “underground” can it really be?) and Minho is bartering with a very ruddy white man over some silly cat trinket that he’s set his eyes on.
“Do any of us even have USD?” you murmur, and Chan laughs.
He’s close - too close - and it’s driving you a little crazy. His knuckles brush the back of your hands more than once in the tight aisles of the outdoor market, once, twice, thrice. Too many times for heat to be spiking through your body every damn time, but it does without fail. It’s loud, and he leans down to your ear every time he’s talking to you so that you can hear him clearly. The brush of his warm air against the shell of your ear makes you shiver, but you stifle it, unwilling to admit to the effect he’s having on you.
“I made everyone convert a bunch of money at the airport,” he responds, voice low and warm and right against your ear, “Someone had to be responsible.”
“You didn’t make me,” you say back, tilting your head back to make eye contact, “Wow. I should’ve known you hated me.”
He genuinely snorts, nose crinkling in a way that makes you want to bite him. “I knew you didn’t need reminding. You probably got it before we even went to the airport.”
You huff, a little mad that he’s right, focusing back on the stall of knick knacks that you’re drifting by. The two of you have lost the group, though you don’t remember that happening, and a comfortable silence falls between the two of you.
It’s always like this with Chan - a quiet calm that feels both safe and domestic always washes over you, and you find that you can’t help but be yourself when he’s in your space. A cheesy part of you thinks something along the lines of “he brings out the best in me” or “I’m better because of him”, but you shake that away, embarrassed that you’re feeling anything for your namdongsaeng’s leader in the first place.
The crowd thickens, and the nine of you get split up a bit. You catch the bob of Hyunjin’s head near the far end, where there’s a miniature paint exhibit set up, and you think you see your brother with him (unlike Hyunjin, Jeongin is not tall enough to stick out in a crowd). You can hear Han, but you don’t know where his voice is echoing from. What you do hear is Chan sigh, already pulling out his phone to text the group chat.
He’s got the little “A” at the front of everyone’s names in the groupchat, and a tiny little sneaky glance at his phone reveals that your name has it, too. You try not to let it affect you.
It’s probably just for the trip, you tell yourself, taking a deep breath, he’s not interested. Don’t be delusional.
“We’ll all meet at five at the beach near the restaurant,” Chan says, leaning low to your ear again, “So if you want to wander off-”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you huff, cutting him off, “Unless you want to wander off, you’re stuck with me. I don’t want to be alone in a foreign country where I barely speak the language, thank you very much.”
“Your English isn’t that bad.” he responds, though there’s mirth in his eyes.
“Whenever I try to make the ‘L’ sound,” you start, though your tongue can’t quite wrap around the letter right, “I literally can’t. You just heard me.”
“There’s ‘L’ sounds in Korean, too,” he says, furrowing his brows, “Which you make just fine, mind you.”
“The Korean ‘L’ is different,” you insist, “It’s soft. Kind. The English one is evil and out to get me.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. You don’t know where in the market you really are now, your legs just carrying you to follow Chan wherever he goes. A quick glance lets you know that you’re in a clump of jewelers, the sun sparkling off the gems. It’s really crowded over here, and someone bumps into you, making you stumble. Chan’s hands reach out instinctively, warm and strong, to steady you.
“Careful,” he says, squeezing your arms where his hands rest, “You okay?”
You nod, flustered, heat spreading through your body from where his hands are holding you. A selfish part of you wants to lean into him, but you guide his hands off of you weakly.
“I’m okay,” you respond, and then in English, “I’m okay.”
He smiles, something softening in his eyes that you don’t want to place, “Good. And see? I should be having you tutor me in English. That was clean.”
You roll your eyes and try to push forward in the crowd, but you almost immediately are getting split up from Chan. You steady yourself and reach for his hand, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing once. His fingers instinctively close around yours, holding on, though his expression is unreadable.
You use your hold on him to force him to lean down, pressing yourself close so you’re talking into his ear. “So we don’t get lost!”
“Makes sense,” he says, and a flurry of emotions flies across his face that you can’t decipher, “Make sure to hold on tight then.”
He’s got more bulk to him - all those years of training really has made him into a fine man - and he presses forward into the crowd for the two of you, guiding you out of the biggest clump of people. When you can finally breathe without bumping into the person next to you, you relax, tension bleeding out of your shoulders.
“Look at you two, so cute!” you hear a voice call out in Korean, and your head snaps up.
The lady speaking is an older woman at the back of a stall, though she presses forward to continue speaking to you.
“Pretty rings for the pretty couple?” she calls, knowing she has your attention now. “So rare that I get to sell to Korean family out here, you know? I give you a special discount if you get them! Special Korean discount, family discount for you.”
You’re about to call her out for the obvious scam tactic and drag Chan off when Chan moves forward, coming to inspect the table of wares the lady has laid out. Still attached by the hand, you can’t help but follow along after him.
He leans forward to inspect the rings in her hand, and shakes his head.
“Do you have any other rings? I want something unique.”
Her eyes light up, delighted that some stupid idiot fell for her tactics. You try not to roll your eyes to save Chan the trouble. She rushes back to the far side of her stall, rummaging frantically.
“You know this is a scam, right?” you murmur lowly at Chan, but he’s not paying attention, “Chan. Christopher. Christopher Bang.”
He stiffens, looking over at you. “Full name? C’mon, let me do this. I want something to remember these moments with you-I mean-remember the moments in, uhm, in Hawaii! So let’s just go along with it, yeah?”
You watch the tips of his ears turn a bright red, and your heart thumps heavy in your chest. You, for a moment, let yourself believe that maybe, maybe Chan might feel that same pull that you do, that draws him to you so easily. The clasp of your hands suddenly feels so much more dangerous, even more so than before.
“These here are the only versions I will ever make of these rings,” the lady chirps, snapping you out of your stupor, “Very rare. One of a kind.”
She’s wearing plastic gloves now, very gently handing a jewelry box. It’s a soft velvet, dark blue in color, and she handles it extremely carefully. When the lid lifts, you almost gasp. Because inside are the prettiest set of rings you’ve ever seen. There’s a thicker band on the left, words engraved on the inside that you can’t make out. There’s a thin band of a beautiful green gem that cuts through the middle, framed on either side by silver. The band on the left is thinner, the ring a little smaller in size, but it’s of the same style. There’s words carved into the inside there, too, and it’s very simple, but so pretty you can’t pretend you aren’t a little captivated.
“What’s it say on the inside?” you ask, because damn it, you’re invested now, too.
“This one-” she points to the larger of the two “-says ‘Until the Mother Earth’ and this one says-” she points to the thinner band “‘-Consumes Us Whole’. Very poetic, no? It’s made from peridot, which is made from the crystal layer of magma. Very fitting, right?”
“Can we try them on?” Chan says, and she thinks for a moment before nodding.
“Normally no, but for my new favorite customers, of course!” she says, carefully placing the box down and lifting the larger band from the box. Your hands unlink for a moment when she motions for Chan’s right hand. She slips the ring on, and you would be stupid to pretend that the ring wasn’t a perfect fit. Your right hand lifts almost on instinct, and the cool metal band holds onto your finger just right. You wonder if she eyeballed your ring sizes before she grabbed this box specifically, but the way she blinks as she glances between your two hands with thinly veiled surprise makes you think that perhaps this wasn’t on purpose, after all.
“We’ll take them,” Chan says quietly, like he doesn’t want to break the moment, “But do you have a chain I could wear it on, too? I uhm…Work with my hands? I don’t want to damage it, but-”
“You want to always have it on, I get it,” she cuts him off, eyes sparkling, “Young love is so sweet. I don’t usually do this, but the chain is on the house. Let me get you one. Could you put the rings back in box, so I can ring them up?”
You slide it back into the box carefully, and your fingers brush Chan’s again as he leans in to put his back, too. The air between the two of you feels thick, something palpable in the air that you’re too scared to grasp at. You feels his eyes on you for a moment, but you don’t look. Can’t look, because you don’t know what you would do if you saw how he was looking at you right now. The lady fumbles around in front of you, oblivious, pulling out a paper bag and slipping a chain in, as well as the box, and then starts clicking away at the register.
Chan’s hands come to cup at either side of your head, blocking out your hearing as the lady tells him the price. You go to look yourself but he pulls you into him without hesitation, and you end up face-to-face with his chest, so close that you’re sure he can feel your breath on him. He pulls out his wallet and pays, all while keeping you where you can’t see the price.
“We don’t need the receipt,” he says easily, like he hasn’t just ruined any other man for you, ever, “I don’t want them knowing how much it was.”
“Chan.” You say, exasperated, into his chest. “Let me pay you back.”
“Nope!” He says in English, popping the ‘p’.
You groan, poking at his side to watch him squirm. “Uncool. I let you stay and look and then you won’t even let me help pay.”
“If the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t let me help pay and you know it.”
You can’t even retort, because he’s definitely right. So you just poke at him again, a little mad at how easily he read you.
He grabs the bag from the lady and he finally lets you go. You spin around and thank the lady with Chan, who just smiles at you sweetly. As you turn to go, she stops just you, a glint in her eyes.
“He’s a keeper, sweetheart,” she says, “Don’t ever let that one go.”
“I won’t.” you answer, and it feels sincere on your tongue.
Chan’s hand reaches for yours again, and you’re off into the crowd once more, the weight of something new settling over the two of you like a blanket. The feel of his hand in yours is now a familiar feeling, a comforting one, and you let yourself get used to it, if only for today. If these moments slip away, if you wake up tomorrow and everything is back to how it felt before, then you think it must be best to treasure these moments with Chan while you still have them,
“Any more shopping you want to do?” he calls back to you, the crowd a little too thick for him to do anything but yell back to you.
You shake your head and he nods once, solemn, before dragging you off to god knows where. You trust him, though, so you let him guide you away, out of the crowded marketplace, out to the salty air. You aren’t right on the beach, but you can smell it in the air and feel it in the way the sun beats down on your skin, the air humid in a way that makes the wind feel sticky. The crowd is a little thinner outside of the square, the space more open for people to spread out. Still, Chan doesn’t let go of your hand, even though there’s no threat of getting lost anymore, not really. If anything, his grip tightens a bit, unwilling to let you go when your fingers twitch to open. If he knows the effect he’s having on you right now, he doesn’t mention it.
You pause for a moment for Chan to fumble with his phone, tongue peeking out in concentration. It draws your eyes to his lips - his perfect, kissable lips - and it takes everything in your power not to lean forward and press your lips to his. Suddenly there’s nothing you want more than to taste the salt on his skin, to feel his lips press against yours and find out what flavor his lip balm is. The answer is probably something lame, like sunscreen, but you’d like to imagine he tastes like something sweet.
“Alright, let’s go!” Chan says, the last phrase in English.
He’s moving before you can even ask where you’re going in the first place. You take a peek at a clock as you’re dragged away, noticing that it’s only 3:30pm - you’ve got an hour and a half before you’re meeting back up with everyone.
“Where are we going?” you ask, and he just shakes his head in response.
“It’s a surprise!” he sing-songs, taking a sharp right, “You’ll see when we get there.”
“Oh, suddenly you’re the Hawaii expert? One Google search and now you know all the spots?” you tease, and he shakes his head again.
“I did my research before, thank you very much,” he says, grinning so big back at you that your stomach feels like it’s in knots, “I just had to figure out the directions. It won’t take too long now.”
He was right, as always, and soon a winding, grassy path up a hill lies in front of you. It’s a little steep, and Chan walks slowly to keep pace with you. The smell of salt in the air gets stronger the higher you get, and you feel the air get knocked out of your lungs when you reach the top.
The hillside overlooks the beach, which stretches as far as your eyes can see in either direction. The water is so blue, shockingly so, and the view from the plane didn’t do it any justice. There’s other people here, spread out with picnic blankets or just their beach towels, watching over the land too. You can see the market you were in before from here, and it looks a lot smaller when you’re not inside of it.
“Woah.” you say, because all other words seem to elude you.
Chan looks very pleased with himself, that pretty smile of his stretching across his face until his eyes are crescents on his face. He squeezes your hand again and brings you forward to an unclaimed patch of land, and then plops down. His arms wrap around your middle as he drops, and he brings you down with him. You yelp, kicking out, but he’s stronger than you, and he pulls you down into him. You land in his lap, and he quickly lifts you to place you next to him. You glare at him, cheeks warm, and he just sends you a sheepish grin.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” is the only excuse he offers, and then he reaches for the paper bag.
He carefully opens the box and slips out the smaller band, eyes glancing over at you nervously. You don’t say a word, simply offer him your right hand the same way you did for the lady at the stall. His hand finds yours, and he slips the ring onto the ring finger on your right hand. It glints in the sunlight, making the green band in the middle look like it was glowing. You try not to react, but your breath gets caught in your throat anyways.
He’s slipping the chain out of the bag and gently sliding the ring onto it when you dare a look over at him. He moves to fumble with the clasp around his neck himself, but you stop him, gently grabbing the chain from him and maneuvering until you’re behind him.
“I’ve got you.” you say, carefully closing the clasp behind his neck. You guide it slowly to rest on his neck, your fingers brushing the skin there just to watch goosebumps spread across the expanse of his neck.
The two of you just sit there for a while, the silence comfortable and warm. You feel yourself almost drifting a bit, the sun on your skin making you drowsy. You let yourself fall back on the grass, vision full of blue and white now as the sky stretches above you, the ring still cool around your finger despite the heat. You raise your hand to look at it, letting it catch the sun.
The grass dips next to you, Chan letting out an oomph! as he lands next to you, and you snort. He just giggles back, shoulder brushing against you. You let your hand fall back to your stomach, and Chan reaches his left hand to hold your right one, fiddling with the ring on your finger.
“It looks good on you,” he murmurs, “Looks right.”
You don’t say anything, and you let that warm feeling sink over you again. Everything is a little fuzzy, and your eyes get a little heavy, the jetlag catching up with you again. If it was anyone else, you would be embarrassed to be falling asleep on the grass in a foreign country, but you know Chan will keep you safe, so you drift away, dreaming of the sea and the boy next to you.
Voices are what wake you up. You blink the weariness out of your eyes as your brother’s voice fills the space, yelling your name and Chan’s. His hand slips from yours as he slides off the ground to greet them, and a little sound escapes your throat before you can help it.
“Sorry.” He whispers to you, before striding over to whoever’s behind you.
A look behind you indicates that everyone but Han and Minho are here, which is unsurprising - Han is always late to things, even when they’re things that he wanted to do in the first place. The sun is dipping below the horizon yet, but it’s lower than you remember it being, and you wonder how long Chan let you sleep there, in the grass.
You sit up, stretching your arms above your head. The ground was comfortable, but not that comfortable, and your back cracks in two places as you move. You wince, and that’s when your brother comes bounding over, an unfortunately very knowing grin on his face.
“So, are you in love yet? Got secretly married behind our backs yet? Had three grandbabies for eomma?” He teases, offering his hands to help you up.
You take them and let him help you up, but the second you’re on your feet, you’re shoving at him, groaning.
“It’s not like that!” You say, though the ring feels heavy on your finger when you say that.
Is it like that? You don’t even know yourself anymore.
“Mhm. That’s why the two of you were having a romantic moment on a hilltop. Alone. What is this, a K-drama? He’s so clearly into you it’s not funny,” he prods at you, something genuine drifting across his face, “And anyways, I approve of him. You deserve someone like him, and he deserves someone like you.”
Your face scrunches up, and you squint at him, looking for a hint of humor on his face, but it’s nowhere to be found. “You’re being serious.”
“Deadass,” he says in English, making you roll your eyes, “But seriously. If the two of you aren’t together by the end of this trip and I have to hear either of you complain about it, I will be locking you in a room with him until something happens.”
“Gross, Innie!” you say, though you’re smiling. “Thanks, I suppose. You’re a good namdongsaeng, or whatever.”
He just gives you that close-eyed grin, and then Han is bouncing up the hill, a weary Minho trailing behind him, and you’re absorbed back into the group, and you have to pretend like you’re not drawn to Chan the entire time.
The sunset is beautiful, and dinner is really good, and somehow you manage to beat Chan to the check (much to everyone’s chagrin), and things settle into something easy. There’s a small outdoor bar that sits right on the edge of the sand, and that’s where the nine of you settle. The drinks are overpriced and the bar food can’t possibly be good enough to warrant spending twenty USD on fries, but you order one drink and nurse it, glad to get a little buzz under your skin after today. Maybe it would loosen you up enough to talk to Chan (you doubt it, but it’s worth a shot).
It only takes thirty minutes for chaos to settle in. Someone got Han too many drinks (your bets are on Minho, who likes to dote on a drunk Han) and now he’s slurring his speech and giggling a little too hard to be good news for anyone.
“About the rooming…uuhhhh…thing,” he decides, tone very confident for a man who almost just spilled half of his very pink drink, “I have an idea.”
“If that idea is you and Minho sharing a room, the answer is no - I don’t want to hear you two all night,” Hyunjin says, wrinkling his nose, “You’re so noisy.”
Well. You had your assumptions about Han and Minho’s not-so-subtle relationship, and you suppose you should’ve known you were right. You think Minho’s ears go red, but the smirk on his face makes you think it’s just a trick of the light.
“Stop listening then.” Minho says smoothly, steadying Jisung as he trips on air.
“Shhhh, I’m talking,” Jisung says, eyes big and glassy as he looks up at Minho, “Woah. Hey, handsome. Come here often?”
“The rooming.” Minho prompts, but you don’t miss the fondness settling into his eyes.
“Right!” Jisung exclaims, sloshing his drink as he rocks on his heels, “I have a genius idea. Want to hear it?”
Chan says “no” right as Jeongin says “sure, hyung”, and Jisung ignores Chan, much more excited that someone is willing to listen to his madness other than Minho.
“I think,” he starts, hiccuping once, “I think we should draw straws. We put one through eight in a cup, and then we have one of the numbers be doubled, and if someone gets the double number then they uhhh…”
“They room together,” Minho finishes, slinging his arm over Jisung’s shoulder, “I like this idea.”
“I don’t,” you pipe up, “What if you two get the same number?”
“They’re going to share a room no matter what,” Changbin says, “So really, we just just give up and give them the shared room.”
“Noooo!” Han wails, “It has to be fate. We have to draw straws. C’moooon, it’ll be fun!”
“Sure, why not?” Felix says, “It’ll be more fun that way.”
A few more people agree - Hyunjin and Jeongin, to your surprise - leaving only you, Chan, and Seungmin in dissent. Changbin seems amused by the idea enough to shrug, and the bartender, who’s listening to your very loud conversation, offers some popsicle sticks from behind the bar. Jisung lights up and snatches them before Chan can turn it down, and now you’re watching Jisung “write” (read: make Minho do it) the numbers on the straws.
“I’m not telling anyone what the double number is, you’ll know when you draw it,” Minho says, mischief in his voice, “Good luck, everyone.”
The “straws” are dropped into Jisung’s empty cup (who let him finish another one?) with their numbers down, and everyone leans forward to grab one. You sigh, but grab one anyways, certain that if you get the double room it’ll be fine. Someone will trade with you, or you’ll end up with someone who you could room without much fanfare. Your eyes find Chan for just a second, but you shake the thought.
Everyone peers at their numbers, and leans over to show the person next to them. Jeongin, who’s on your left, got five, and Felix, who’s to your right, got three. You’ve got a one scrawled on the top of your straw, and you peer around nervously. You go around the circle, starting from Minho. Everyone reads out their number, and when it gets to you and you say “one”, you watch Chan stiffen, freezing.
“You said one?” He said, and you nod, confused.
“Yeah? That’s what my stick says?” You respond, tilting your head.
He flips his popsicle stick around, and right there at the top, in black marker, in the number one. The table whoops, and Jisung is grinning something wicked.
“Fate has decided!” He yells, a couple of heads turning to look at your group wearily as he yells, “The two of you will be staying together. It’s destiny.”
“It’s destiny,” Jeongin mimics, elbowing you under the table, “I think Hannie-hyung might be on to something.”
You and Chan hold eye contact across the table, and you hope that you look completely nonchalant and cool with this decision. You hope your nerves aren’t painted across your face, or the flush of your cheeks can be blamed on the alcohol coursing through your veins. His face is unreadable, jaw clenched in a way that shows he’s controlling his expression. You look away, let the conversation fall into something else, because clearly neither of you are going to address the elephant in the room now.
The drive back to the hotel is quiet, the drunkest people (read: Han Jisung) falling asleep on their feet as the car is arriving. You’ve only had half of some fruity thing that the bartender recommended, but the straw-drawing incident left a weird taste in your mouth, and you couldn’t finish it. Jeongin is a little tipsy next to you, his smile more open and his laugh a little giggly, and you help him into the car, unable to resist doting on your little brother. You know he doesn’t need it, but he’s less hesitant to let you coo at him when he’s drunk, a little more honest about how much he loves the attention, so you take advantage of that. He slides into the seat next to you and promptly falls asleep, heading dipping to lean on your shoulder. You pretend to be annoyed, but then Hyunjin starts being dramatic, groaning about how he wants to be the one that Jeongin falls asleep on.
“He’s my namdongsaeng too!” He wails, and you stick out your tongue.
“He was my namdongsaeng first.” you say, and outrage erupts, Jisung suddenly wide awake and arguing that he’s the favorite because of the cheek kisses he got this year, and Hyunjin talking about the 2kr episode.
“Shut up.” Jeongin whines into your shoulder, awoken by the noise. “Sleeping…”
The rest of the ride is when the silence settles in, no one wanting to disturb the maknae, and you make a very deliberate attempt to avoid eye contact with Chan the whole time. Looking at him meant acknowledging the issue at hand, after all. Ignorance is bliss, you suppose, and you were going to live in it for as long as possible.
You have to spend the whole elevator ride to the fifth floor telling Jisung to be quiet, because Minho convinced him that if he yells loud enough in the elevator it would echo, and he watches with joy as you struggle to support Jeongin and get Jisung to kindly shut the fuck up. Chan watches with amusement, glad for a moment to not have to be the responsible one, though his value about their image makes him step in before the elevator opens, reminding Jisung that people are trying to sleep.
“Ooooh, sleep sounds so good right now,” Jisung says, leaning hard into Minho. “Jagi, can we go to bed? ‘m tired.”
Jeongin, who for some reason still has the room keys, distributes them. He winks when he hands you the key to room 519, and you just send him a look back.
“What room are we in?” Chan says, the first one to acknowledge the fact that you’re sharing a room, “519? Good, right at the start. Easy access.”
“Right, easy access,” you echo, head swimming with the idea of sharing a room with Chan, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Okay with what?” He says, playing dumb.
“Sharing a room. With me,” you start, avoiding eye contact, “I’m sure it’s not ideal. We can just give the room to Jisung and Minho, or I can room with Innie.”
“No no no, I uhhh…I don’t mind,” he says, voice cracking, “I seriously don’t mind. I’m honestly a little glad it’s you.”
“Yeah?” you say, a little breathless, “Well, I’m glad it’s you, too.”
Your luggage is already in the room, since it’s the one that everyone piled all of their stuff into earlier, and you help people grab their luggage and get out.
The worst part about the rooming situation comes crashing down when you turn around the corner to the bedroom area and realize that there, pressed against the center of the back wall, is the bed. That’s right, not beds: bed, singular. One whole bed, not even a queen size. It’s a full at most, a twin on steroids at worst, and your throat goes dry. There’s no living space, so there’s no couch for you to crash on, and you guess the stiff-looking armchair in the corner is calling your name.
“Hey, what’re you standing here for-” Chan’s breath catches as he sees the same issue as you, the one bed glaring at the two of you from the middle of the room. “Oh. I can, er…I can take the floor. You have the bed.”
“Absolutely not,” you respond, before you can stop yourself, words tumbling out of your mouth like a waterfall, “We’re adults. We can share a bed, it’ll be fine. It’s not like it’s a twin bed. Two people can comfortably fit on there.”
You don’t mention that the two people would have to be a breath away from being shoulder-to-shoulder, but Chan agrees, though his voice shakes as he does.
“Okay. Okay. Sure, as long as you’re not uncomfortable. I uh-I usually don’t sleep with a shirt on, do you care?”
“Do whatever you need,” you respond, partially because you’re a people pleaser and partially because a greedy part of you wants to see Chan shirtless, “If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.”
The two of you get ready in thick silence, every step taking you one step closer to sharing a bed with the guy that you might just be in love with.
The first night is fine. You’re tired enough from the jetlag and the bar that you slip into sleep fairly easily, curled up on your side of the bed. You can hear Chan’s quiet snoring when you wake up, so you know that he fell asleep just fine, too.
Night two and three are much the same, though you’re hyperaware of him next to you, more so than you were before. You can hear your heartbeat in your head, and you can hear Chan’s steady breathing next to you. Each night you’ve been inching closer together, and the morning of the third day you woke up with your face pressed into Chan’s shoulder. The morning of day four, you wake up with an arm thrown over your middle and your face buried in Chan’s chest. You slip out from under his arm, careful not to wake him up, and don’t breathe a word of it to Chan. If he knew it happened, he never mentioned it to you.
Night four is when things come to a head. Chan and you have been pressed together all night, that magnetic pull you feel that drags you towards him stronger than before. His shirt is tight against his chest, and the sleeves bulge around his arms in a way that makes you drool. You don’t know how much more you can take of this trip before you just jump him in public in front of everyone.
At this point, you’re pretty sure everyone knows about whatever’s happening between you and Chan except for Chan himself. Changbin has made some teasing comments, Seungmin gagged earlier when the two of you smiled at each other, Jisung and Minho have been whispering and obnoxiously pointing at the two of you, and Felix murmured, in that low voice of his, that the two of you “looked good together.” Jeongin is still Jeongin, and tonight was the night that he noticed the matching rings.
“There’s no way,” he said, mouth agape, “There’s. No. Way.”
“What is it this time?” you had responded, tired of his bullshit.
“You and Channie-hyung have matching rings!”
He says it loud enough for Hyunjin to overhear, and he trips over himself as he runs over to inspect the ring on your finger. You let him have your hand, giving up on trying to hide it anymore. Hyunjin inspects the ring, watches the way it catches light.
“Wow. So it’s finally official?” Hyunjin says, hopeful.
You shake your head, yanking your hand away. “Babo. We’ve had these since the first day here. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Right…you just have matching RINGS…for no reason…” Hyunjin says, squinting his eyes at you. “Have you two been in a secret relationship this whole time?? Have you been laughing about this behind our backs??”
“No??” you respond, dragging a hand down your face, “You guys. We just thought they were pretty. Nothing more than that.”
You don’t tell them about the way the lady thought you were a couple, or the way every touch that day, accidental or not, made your heart explode out of your chest. You don’t mention the way that Chan has been looking at you, or the way you catch him staring at your hand where the ring sat, or the way you find yourself staring back, too. You don’t have to, because Jeongin and Hyunjin are already throwing a fit.
“You’re joking, right??” Hyunjin blurts out, right as Jeongin speaks.
“Are you two babos??”
Their voices overlap as they tell you off, and you wave them off and tell them you’re done with their bullshit, which just leads to more protesting from them. You’re rescued by an unknowing Felix, who comes over to ask Hyunjin for an opinion on something, and it completely derails the conversation.
And now, it’s bedtime. Chan’s freshly showered, in only a pair of loose-fitting shorts, the waistband of his boxers peeking out. His hair is damp as he climbs into bed next to you, and you don’t even pretend to not be staring at him, not when you’re fighting the urge to drool over how good he looks.
“Good for me to turn off the light?” He hums, reaching for the lamp.
“Yeah.” You respond, though your voice is breathless, your eyes still raking over his skin, still damp from the shower.
You watch a rivulet of water drip down the plane of his abs, which ripple as he moves. You only turn away when he catches you staring, right before he clicks off the lamp. You’re on your side, back facing him, before he can blink. You miss the way he smirks at the back of your head as the room goes dark.
“Good night.” he says, breath hitting the back of your head.
He’s close, too close, but you don’t say anything, letting the bed dip dangerously close to you without a word. “Good night.”
You wake up, what feels like hours later, to a movement against your back. Chan’s arm is thrown over you, but this time, the hold is tight, pressing him back against you, hard. At first, you think he’s just shifting in his sleep, but as the sleepiness leaves your body, you realize with a dropping stomach that the movements are sharp, deliberate. He’s breathing heavy above your head, ragged little pants and quiet whimpers filling the space, and there’s something pressing against your ass that you can’t excuse away. It throbs against you, the thin material of your shorts doing nothing to hide the pulse of what you can only assume is his erection against your ass.
His hips roll a little harder against you, and the sound he lets out is sinful. It has your body setting alight with desire, a heat flushing down, down, down until you can feel your arousal dripping through your shorts, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets.
He’s moaning now, though it’s not loud, a mix of low grunts and breathy sounds that make your eyes roll back. Your thighs clench as you seek friction for yourself, but you can’t get any, not when Chan’s holding you so close and using you to get himself off.
You have to stop this. You have to tell him you’re awake, that you know what he’s doing. That’s what you keep telling yourself, but the press of him against you is so addicting you can’t bring yourself to stop it. His rolling is getting inconsistent now, and you know he’s probably close, arms clenching even tighter around you. You have to speak up now, so you do, tentative at first.
“Chan?” you whisper, the sound feeling too loud against the chorus of his sounds.
No response. You try again.
“Hey, Chan?” you’re louder this time, but the pit in your stomach grows, because it’s dawning on you that, perhaps, Chan might not even be awake at all.
“Chan. Chan.”
You try to spin out of his hold, to press away from him, but it just forces your ass back against his cock, and a louder sound rips out of his throat when you do. Heat is crawling under your skin, like hot magma in your veins, but you know you have to stop him, especially if he’s asleep. You don’t want him to do something he’d regret.
“Chan, wake up. Hey, hey! Get off, Chan, wake up!” You say, voice getting progressively louder.
He stiffens against you as you squirm, and you feel the way his whole body shakes as he comes against you. He’s just whimpering now, little sounds, riding out his high as he tries to keep dragging you against his sensitive cock. Even asleep, Chan is greedy, body shaking with what you assume is overstimulation but still trying to chase that delicious pull of friction against you.
“Chan, please.” You groan, and now that he’s weaker from his orgasm, you can press yourself out of his arms.
That’s what wakes him up - the loss of your warmth against him. You finally manage to wiggle out of his grasp, rolling forward to your side of the bed, breathing heavy. You can still feel the wet spot between your legs and the wet spot on your ass. And you can tell by the way his breath is less controlled and stable that he’s waking up now, the sound shallower and more conscious.
“Mhmm…” he groans, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, before they snap open.
You can’t make him out very well in the darkness, but you can tell that he knows he came everywhere, because he starts quietly swearing in English. He doesn’t even really look at you until you shift again, his head snapping up to try and make you out in the dark.
“You awake now?” you say, voice a little tense with emotions you don’t want to place, not right now.
“Did I…?” He asks, though you both know he already knows the answer.
“...yeah,” you say, biting your lower lip, “Yeah uhm. You did.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry!” he says, embarrassment strong in his tone. “Oh my god. This is so…I’m really, really sorry. I’m going to - I’m going to clean up, yeah? You can uh-do whatever you need actually! I’m going to clean up, yeah, goodbye now!”
You snatch his wrist as he moves to stand before you can stop yourself. You want to blame your boldness on the weariness still shaking out of your bones, but you know it’s just because you’re so worked up now, body aching for more. Now that you’ve had Chan in some capacity, you’re not sure you can go back.
“Chan. Stop me if you don’t want this.”
It’s the only warning he gets before your leg comes over his to straddle him and your mouth is pressing to his. He groans in the back of his throat, a deep sound that rumbles through both of you, and then presses into you, kissing back. His hands hesitantly come to grasp at your hips, and the sound you make is enough for them to start exploring, fingers slipping underneath your sleep shirt to knead at the skin there.
Your hips press down in a circular motion, guiding his length against your heat. It’s desperate, the rhythm a little unsteady, but he makes an appreciative sound nonetheless. When you pull back to breath, you can make out the way he blinks up at you, almost reverently.
“Am I still dreaming?” he says, voice laced with disbelief.
“Was this-hah-what you were dreaming about?” you pant out, pace picking up as your own pleasure builds.
“All my dreams include you,” he responds, so sincere it makes another gush of arousal slip out of you, “But fuck, yeah. Dreamin’ that you were-shit-w-were fuckin’ against me, that I slipped everything to the side and just slipped right in-”
“If we’re doing this, I need to-shiiiiit-I need to get one thing straight with you. If we’re doing this, I’m-hrk! ‘m the one in charge, ‘kay? You just need to sit here and take. Wanna show you what you’ve been doin’ to be since-ooooh-since the first day of this god damn trip. Can you do that? Can you be-haaah-be good? Be good for me?”
He nods, eyes wide, mouth falling open. You shake your head, hips slowing down, leaning so that your mouth is dangerously close to his.
“Words, baby.” You say, the petname in English, loving the way it makes him tense up underneath you.
“Please!” he sobs, words like molasses on his tongue. “Please, want that. Want that so bad. Use me, do whatever you want, please, I’ll be good, I swear.”
He loses his train of thought when you lean forward to bite at his neck, one hand coming to rest on his throat. You don’t squeeze, don’t joke - just leave it there. It’s possessive, a claim, a reminder of who he’s supposed to listen to. Chan almost comes in his pants.
“You’re lucky I’m feeling impatient today,” you say between bites, teeth sinking in deep enough to leave a mark, “Or else I would make you beg to be inside of me. You already got to come, you know? You’re so selfish, but I am, too. Wanna feel you fill me up.”
He groans, head falling back.
“Yeah? You like that?” you continue, though you’re slipping out of his lap to pull off your underwear and shorts. “Like the idea of filling me up? Painting my insides with come, instead of just my sleepshorts like you did last time?”
He’s sliding his underwear and shorts down just far enough for his cock to pop out. It hits his abdomen with wet plap!, and you think you might just be drooling. Because he’s big, the kind of big that you didn’t think was actually possible. There’s a thick vein that traces a path up from his balls to the fat mushroom head, which is leaking and so red it’s almost purple. You can’t help but reach a hand out, tracing your pointer finger up the prominent vein. Your touch is featherlight, and it makes his hips buck off the bed, wanting more. You bring your hand back to spit on it, right in the center of your palm, then you bring your hand back down to stroke at his length, revelling in how hot and thick it feels against your hand. Your hand barely fits around it, and the idea of this monster going into you has you clenching and dripping.
“Fuck, Channie, you’re so big,” you coo, sliding down so that your mouth is hovering right near his length, “I’m not even sure you’re going to fit.”
That makes him choke on a moan, a hand coming up to cover his face. “Y-you can’t just-hnnngh! You can’t jus’ say that, jagi.”
You just hum in response, leaning forward to press quick pecks up the side of his length around your moving hand. You swipe your tongue out right where the pearly precum is leaking from his tip, and the taste of him is so good - a bit salty, but not bitter like you were expecting - that you can’t help but drop your jaw and swallow around him. You only bring the tip into your mouth, suckling gently, but it makes him wail, eyes rolling back and fists white-knuckling the sheets.
“Feels so good,” he sobs, hips twitching from holding back from bucking into the heat of your mouth, “Fuck fuck fuck, jagi, I can’t-”
He cuts himself off with a sob as you open your mouth wider and take more of him. The stretch of your mouth is good, and you can only take him about halfway before he’s kissing the back of your throat, making you gag. Your free hand comes to fondle his balls, the other one forming a ring with your pointer finger and thumb, jerking off the length of him you can’t get into your mouth. He can’t take it, everything just feels so good, and he’s already so sensitive. He tries to warn you, he really does, but he can’t get any words out that aren’t your name or ‘please’ right now.
He comes down your throat with a cry of your name, so loud you’re sure whoever’s on the other side of the wall definitely heard, but you don’t care, not when he’s painting your throat white. You suck around him until he goes soft, and then keep going, even as his hands come to pull at your hair weakly and his thighs twitch underneath you.
“It’s too much, fuck, jagi, please?”
You don’t stop, not until you’ve nursed him back to full hardness with your mouth and your hands. Only then do you pop off and give him a proper look.
He’s a mess, hair dishelved, cheeks a bright red, chest heaving as he tries to get himself under control. You feel the same, the raw need for Chan to fill you overriding every function in your body. You slide yourself back up to line your leaking entrance up with his length, reaching a hand back to guide his tip to rub against the rim of it. Your juices mix together on his cock - your spit and both of your arousals dripping down his length - and it makes you groan, twitching against him.
“Please.” Chan whines, and that’s all it takes for your hips to drop, taking half of him in one go.
He’s too big and you’re too tight, so you can’t take him in all at once. The stretch is delicious, but you’re not dumb enough to hurt yourself, not now, not when you’re about to ride the boy of your dreams into oblivion. You slide up and down, riding the length of him that you can take, slipping just a little more of him into you each time your hips drop. When your ass meets his thighs you let your head loll forward, your body barely able to accommodate his full length inside of you. He’s a perfect fit, so fucking big that you’re sure your guts are rearranging to fit him inside of you, but the stretch burns so good, the pain bleeding into red hot pleasure and making your head spin.
You press one of your hands to his chest to stabilize yourself, and the other hand reaches for his, lacing your fingers together next to his head on the sheets. He squeezes your hand so tight you think he’s cutting off bloodflow, but you don’t stop him, not when you feel so full that you’re pretty sure a couple moves might have you coming all over him.
“Fuck Channie, I can feel you in my throat,” you moan, and it makes him twitch inside of you, “Feel so good-ahn! Soooo good baby, that’s it. Might need your help to-hah-move. Can you help me, baby?”
His free hand comes to grip at your hip, fingers digging so deep you know that there will be fingerprint-shaped bruises splattering the skin there. When your shaky legs slam you down on his length, his hips buck up, meeting you in the middle.
The sound of skin on skin is obscene, a wet pap pap pap! filling up the room. You apologize to your neighbors in your head, but right now, all that matters is the way that Chan is filling you up, and the cute sounds he’s making as he does. A particular good buck of his hips up into you has you falling forward, and you press your lips against his to muffle the sound clawing at your throat when he presses against your sweet spot.
“Th-that’s it, good boy, Channie,” you moan, voice shaking as you try and choke down your sounds, “Come inside of me. Please. Need to feel you fill me up, need you to mark me, please, Chan!”
You clench around him, walls pulsing around his length as you come, drenching his cock with your release. He’s babbling now, hand slipping from your grasp to grip at your hip, both hands now guiding you up and down his length. You know he’s close - in the desperation in his movements, in how he uses you like a cocksleeve to get himself off - and when you clench around him tight and don’t loosen, it pushes him over the edge. He screams something that sounds like your name and ‘thank you’ all at once, body going limp underneath you as he paints your walls white.
Silence settles over the room as you both come down from your highs. You don’t want to move, but you know you have to, carefully slipping out of Chan’s lap on jello legs to wobble to the bathroom. You don’t turn on the light - you don’t want to see how sloppy you look in 4K right now - and instead focus on fumbling for a washcloth and wetting it. Only once the water from the sink warms up do you dip the washcloth into the sink, getting it sufficiently damp before making the long trek back to the bed.
You carefully clean Chan up, heart fluttering when he hums as you clean him. You’re careful around his sensitive cock, though you do have to do one sweep of it to clean off the remnants of your mixed juices before it dries, making him hiss. You take the washcloth and haphazardly wipe yourself off and call it a day, tossing it off vaguely towards the armchair. You hear it hit the floor and shake your head, giving up. Not worth the effort right now, not when Chan is making lazy grabby hands at you. You don’t say a word, just let yourself be guided to bed, let him hold you from behind, the way he was holding you that started this whole mess. He drags the blanket over the both of you and tugs you impossibly closer, kissing the crown of your head.
“I don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he says, once the silence had finally settled into something breakable, “I want you. This. Forever, if you’ll have me.”
“I want that too,” you admit, voice hoarse from your earlier activities but still honest, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Channie. Jeongin’s been making fun of me forever.”
“Funny,” he says, shifting behind you to tangle your legs, “He’s been doing the same to me for just as long.”
And that’s that. There’s no dramatics, no ‘can I be your boyfriend?’s, because both of you already know that this is exclusive. You’re his, and he’s yours. Nothing more has to be said because you’ve been saying it with your actions, with your eyes, for so long that you’re pretty sure that you and Chan had already been official. This was just the icing on the cake, the admittance to each other of the truth you’ve been living all week.
When you wake up, there’s a banging on your door, and Changbin’s voice ringing out.
“I’m happy for the two of you, I really am, but please keep it down next time? Hotel walls are thin, and I don’t want to hear how Chan whimpers ever again, please and thank you! Breakfast’s in ten, we’ll see you down there.”
“Thanks, Bin-ah!” You croak, voice heavy with sleep.
“You should be apologizing to me, actually, but I suppose I’ll take it,” he yells back, “The whole floor definitely heard you. I hope you’re ready for a very awkward breakfast.”
The two of you make no effort to make yourselves look clean, and if your disheveled appearances didn’t give it away, the deep purple marks littering Chan’s neck and the splatter of purple on your hips when your shirt rode were very big indicators of what the two of you were up to last night.
“I told you so!” Jeongin sings, poking at the bruise on your hip just to watch you jump, “Wooow, he did a number, huh? Freaks. Sounded like you were filming a porno down the hall. But…”
He pauses, then shakes his head. “I’m happy for you. The two of you deserve the best.”
And if you and Chan link hands under the table, basking in the glow of the morning after and the warmth of your feelings being out in the open, no one’s the wiser.
Perhaps you’re grateful for the schedule mix up, after all.
I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated ♡
you don’t understand how badly I NEED omega skz and alpha reader. Maybe while they’re in heat please? :3
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Omega!skz in heat (lowkey loved writing this omg)
Sub!Omega!Skz x Dom!Alpha!M!Reader
Cw: asphyxiation//choking//thigh riding// dacryphilia// size kink// begging//biting// marking//possessiveness// nipple play// readers quite mean// hyunjins slightlyyyy dominant// fingering// slight corruption// manhandling// could be read as boypussy except from changbin and han
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Bangchan
He's so cute when he's in heat
Superrrr needy and whiny
Rubbing his face against you and clinging onto you almost always
You always know when he's in pre-heat
He gets extra submissive and clingy with you
Constantly looking at you with the sweetest heart eyes
He'll feel very warm, his cheeks, ears and neck will be dusted pink
Until eventually he ends up either in your lap humping your thigh or laying cuddled up to your side and rutting into your hip
He never leaves the room in his heats
And doesn't like having you leave even if it's to get food or something to drink but you reassure him you'll be back soon
In a constant daze, always looking flushed and tired
He LOVES you taking complete control of him
Pinning him down and manhandling him to your liking
Knotting him as many times as you'd like
If he becomes very overwhelmed when you're fucking him so good he'll sink his canines into your shoulder
The prettiest muffled cries and moans ripping through him
He'll always trigger your rut
His scent is just so addicting to you
He's always so sweet and adorable during his heats yet loves how rough and relentless you are
Having him bent over, his ass in the air as your gripping his arms behind his back. His face smushed into the pillow as your growling and grunting behind him
Fucking him so deeply whilst he just whines and whimpers so beautifully
His slick dripping down his thighs and making such a loud squelching sound as your cock drills into him
Will beg you to knot him
Will beg you to cum inside him
Will beg you to choke him
Will beg you to just ruin him
And the way he pleads is so sweet you can't resist, you'd do anything for your little omega
Lee Know
Super bratty during his pre-heats but when his heat comes he's surprisingly obedient
Don't get me wrong he can be feisty
Might bite you then and there but he'll let you do what you want with him
During his pre-heats he likes to act out alot but a just give him a warning growl and he'll back off
He won't really tell you when his heat starts but he'll find a way to let you know
He'd probably sit on your lap for a while until you feel his slick begin seeping through and onto your trousers
Or he'd be constantly at your neck, sniffing, licking and biting
You love how red he gets whilst you're fucking him
From his ears down to his chest and BRIGHT red and so hot to the touch
Loses control sometimes and forgets his place and ends up shoving you onto your back and riding you so hard you feel your dick may fall off
You can't say you'd complain about it, it feels fucking amazing the way he slams himself down onto your cock
He prefers you fuck him on his back so he could wrap himself around you tightly
He loves how big your cock is and how deep it reaches everytime
His slick is something that could send any alpha into rut from a mile away
It smells and tastes of honey
There's been many times where you'd just have him on his stomach whilst you eat him out
He'd definitely mark you
He's a big biter
You have many marks and scars from where he's bitten you and you love them
Changbin
He's so cute during his heats I wanna eat him
No like literally I can't
He's covered with many bite marks from you and your ruts cause you get so much cuteness aggression from him
He's just so twitchy and sensitive you can't keep your hands off him
His titties get...bigger and insanely sensitive
He'll cry through most of his heat wether your fucking him or not
He just gets so emotional
And that turns you on alot...I mean...He's so cute when he cries (and so is lix)
Tiny leaky cock 🤏🏻
He's usually quite quiet when you're fucking him but they'll get louder the rougher you get and the closer he's getting
You love touching his ears and tail
He'll let out a little whimper when your fingers brush across them lightly
You love to tease him
He's so pathetic and you're so mean to poor binnie
Stopping right as he's about to cum, brushing your fingers against his ears and getting him all wet just to leave him, pinching his overly sensitive nipples and making him cum all over himself and then laughing at him whilst he lays there sobbing and hiding behind his arms
Your knots so big it's almost a struggle to push it in him every time but he finally manages after getting him to relax a little
You love to hold him so tight whilst your waiting to be detached from him
Kissing him softly as he just whines with tears streaming down his cheeks
Hyunjin
Sluttiest omega ever
It's like he gets possessed by something
Will show himself off infront of you
Put on a little show
Strip himself down whilst you sit back on the bed and watch
Will crawl on the bed towards with dark lust filled eyes looking like he's ready to devour you
You may be the alpha but doesn't stop him from teasing you and making you beg for his hole
Laying down on his back with his legs up in front of you whilst he fingers himself
So much slick is dripping down the bed and his fingers, it's making your cock twitch
He'll finger himself until he's had enough and is needy for your cock
He'll climb into your lap and slide himself down onto you
He'll ride you slowly
He basically tortures himself
Gets himself so worked up to the point he's tearing up and begging you to ruin him
Sweat dripping down his face as he looks so fucked out
You'll finally flip him over and give him what he's been begging for
Wrapping your hands tightly round his throat hard enough it makes him slightly gasp for air
Will smile that that fucked out manic smile he does as your losing all your control over him
Your primal instincts start to creep up, your mind confusing horny and aggression and mixing them into one
At that point hyunjin's a goner
His facade of having you beg for him long gone as your primal instincts kick in
Growling out that he's yours and only yours, how if anyone dares to lay a hand on him you'd rip them apart
Takes your knot so well
Lays there completely limp after, you'd think he's dead
Han
He's so needy during his heats
Constantly fucking himself back onto you
Touching you at every chance he can get
Grinding his ass against you to get your attention
He basically lives on your lap when you're not fucking
So loud omg
His moans are so pretty though
Just makes sure if he's in heat that there's nobody else in the house cause he WILL keep them up all night with his loud cries and moans
Huge pillow princess
Will make you do EVERYTHING
Will lay there and take it so well though
No complaints, he'd just let you do whatever you'd like
If you're feeling mean though, then you'll make him ride you
He's so pathetic when he's desperately trying to ride you
Whining as he grips your shoulders and attempts to bounce himself on your cock
He'd eventually give up, legs going weak as he flops down and just grinds his cock onto your stomach
Definitely the type to lick you
He's sitting in your lap and wrapping himself around you as he lick at your neck every so often
It's his way of trying to get your complete attention and tell you he's needy again
His legs tremble when he cums it's so cute
Felix
Produces so much slick you'd think he would be bone dry by the next day
But ofc he isn't, he produces just as much...maybe even more
Such a wet, slippy mess when you fuck him through his heats
But his slick makes you completely animalistic
You lose all sense of control when he's bent over in front of you, slick pouring down his thighs and pooling at his knees
You have to change and wash the sheets every day through his heats
He always soaks through his underwear
It's a very easy glide when you first shove your cock into him and he's always so warm
The sweetest little omega
In both ways
He's constantly thanking you for everything you give him, every heat you've helped him through, how well you take care of him, how good you fuck him
And also sweet as in his slick
It's like cotton candy, you could eat away for hours until you feel as if your teeth may rot
He's got a huge thing for the size difference between you both
He's so tiny and cute whilst your so big and intimidating, yet very kind and caring on the inside
Your cock bulges in his stomach it's so big
With the amount of slick he produces it's an easy fit luckily but he loves the feeling of being stretched so wide
Your knots a whole other story
It makes him cry
Not sad tears, very very happy tears
He fucking LOVES your knot and will beg so much for it
Seungmin
We all know he purposely pisses you off just so you can manhandle him
We all know he loves that shit and gets off on it
The way you grab him by the throat and growl in his ear for him to behave
The way you hook his arms behind his back and hold him in place as you do whatever you want to him
He just smiles and giggles the whole time
It's his happy place being thrown around by you
Especially when in heat
He could cum just by you putting him in a headlock
Which you do often
Having lay on his stomach, your arms hooked around his neck and locking in place as you pound your cock into him
He just lays there and cries out the most pathetic moans
He has a little thing for slight asphyxiation
Loves when you choke him to the point he's going dizzy and gasping for air
He's so slutty during his heats and you love it
Wiggling his perky little butt at you or putting his hand right over your crotch and acting all innocent when you glare at him
Would definitely stick his tongue out and pant when you've got him bent over and fucking his brains out
He'd love to ride you thigh as his slick drips out all over your trousers
Won't admit it but he loves being knotted by you
The feeling of being attached to you so intimately makes him feel so fuzzy inside
I.N
Super shy during his heats
Reluctant to touch you or initiate anything
He'd go as long as he could through his heats until you finally find out he's in heat
You try encourage him to start telling you but he's too embarrassed
Though he has asked once but it's because he was insanely desperate and was basically losing his mind
He's so blushy when you begin stripping him down which just makes you wanna devour him
He definitely knows how to set your primal instincts off without trying
You become so protective over him
He gets flustered when you growl at anyone who steps even anywhere near him
He shakes a little when you tower over the top of him, gulping as you touch his body teasingly
His moans are so adorable
He tries holding them back but when you're being so rough with him he can't help but let them slip out
Can't help but claw down your back when you're fucking him into the mattress
His claws are quite sharp so he'd accidentally make you bleed a little
Not that you mind
Let's out a very loud gasp when your knot slips in
He's never used to the size of it
Was very confused the first time you ever knotted him since you were his very first and he had no knowledge or experience
Took him by surprise when suddenly something even thicker slipped in and suddenly become attached to the inside of him
You just laughed and kissed him before explaining what happened
gulping down the spit that pooled in your mouth. you wanted to corrupt him. you needed to see him cry from pleasure. shake from pleasure.
because how?
Just how could anybody not instantly fall for this sweetheart ?
chest warm, swollen under your palms as you kneaded into the flesh. sticking your tongue down onto his leaking nubs. tasting the sweet white substance that dripped out in copious amounts.
"f-full. m-more" chan whimpers. his hand gently coming to rest on the back of your head. urging you to do more than just lick him.
"what'd you want me to do, baby?" teasing him ever so much. wanting to know what exactly he wanted you to do.
his lips parting. the cow hybrid whines, refusing to look at you. instead his ears go flat on his head.
"come now, channie. tell me what you want..."
"...m-mouth" he whispers, trying to signal to you what he meant. you smiled, deciding you'd only help him if he used his words.
pinching his swollen nub hard enough to have him arch his back. a long drawn out whine escaping his lips.
"please...s-suck" and in a second you lower your head. revelling in the way he gently nudges your face to his chest. gasping in a cute way. so extremely cute that it only makes you suck harder. drinking the milk with half lidded eyes. his scent filling up your nostrils.
"channie..." you mumble, squeezing his chest rhythmically. not caring if his bedsheets got stained.
"m-mhm" he murmurs, writhing into his pillow. hair messy and ears still pressed dosn on his fluffy hair. his cheeks red and lips stained with spit.
"baby" you call out again. heart racing at the way he lifts his head up. looking at you with big doe eyes. glassy and wide.
"you taste sooo good"
watching his eyes widen even more. his hands coming up to cover his face. a soft little noise leaving him. it sounds almost like a calf.
"did you just moo, channie?" you coo, prying his hands off his face. but he furiously shakes his head.
"chris."
and his ears twitch aggressively. freezing at the name you call him. blinking at you shyly and making no attempt to disobey you.
"good boy."
straddling his torso to sit on top of him. running your hands through his hair. realising his chest was slowly going back to normal. his own milk drying up on his abs. sticky and honey-like.
"how about we milk something else..."
"h-huh?" his voice cracks.
"what if i say I do have a manual pump in my bag....and plenty of lube?" you whisper, watching him grow harder beneath you.
his expression is filled with shock but his body was ever ready to be fucked.
"does channie want to do some more?"
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i had a dream okay? i dreamt of this chan and i had to make this the part 2.
PART 3 WILL ONLY HAPPEN IF YOU GUYS GIVE ME IDEAS.
Pairing: MinChan x the rest (enjoying the show, I guess😂)
Word Count: 2032
Summary: Chan finds himself unraveling in Minho's lap during a quiet movie night, his whimpers and moans betraying him until the others can’t help but notice. To his shame, and secret thrill, Minho admits it’s all part of Chan's little fantasy of being caught, and soon the entire group is watching...
Warnings/Tags: sub!Chan, handjob, public sex (?), edging (in relation to the first part😂), aftercare, smut, fluff
Minho didn’t even flinch at Changbin’s words. Instead, he smirked faintly, pressing a kiss against Chan’s damp temple. “Well,” he said smoothly, “it turns out Channie here loves the thought of getting caught. I’m just helping my boyfriend live out his little fantasy.” Chan made a broken sound in the back of his throat, mortified and aroused all at once.
From the bean bag, Hyunjin chuckled low, his long fingers brushing through his hair. “Looks like it’s not just a fantasy anymore. You just got caught, hyung.”
Chan whimpered, the noise embarrassingly needy. His stomach twisted with shame and molten heat all tangled together. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, voice cracking as he squirmed in Minho’s lap. “I didn’t-ahh-didn’t mean-”
“Hyung.” Jisung’s giggle cut him off, soft and bright. “There’s no need to apologize. It’s okay.”
Felix nuzzled into Jisung’s shoulder, dimples flashing even in the low light. “Yeah,” he admitted shyly, “none of us minded hearing you a few days ago, either.”
Chan flushed deep red, burying his face against Minho’s chest as if he could hide. He curled in on himself, growing smaller in Minho’s hold, but his hips betrayed him — still twitching, still needy against Minho’s fist.
Jeongin leaned forward suddenly from the sofa, his expression unreadable. He reached out and patted Chan’s head, almost sweet. “Not surprised, honestly. This is exactly the kind of thing I’d expect you to like, hyung.”
Chan whimpered again, half-muffled against Minho’s shirt.
Seungmin’s grin was sharp in the dim light as he tugged Jeongin easily into his lap, arms looping casually around the maknae’s waist. His gaze fixed on Chan, amused and predatory. “Well,” he drawled, voice carrying over the hum of the TV, “we’re all here to help now by giving you our full attention, aren’t we?” He leaned back against the sofa, Jeongin squirming in his lap. “So don’t stop on our account.”
Chan’s entire body shuddered at the words, torn between the mortifying heat in his cheeks and the aching, pulsing pleasure low in his gut. His hips jerked helplessly in Minho’s grip, another strangled moan slipping free, too wrecked to fight it anymore.
Minho tightened his arm around Chan’s waist, his other hand still snugly wrapped around his cock beneath the blanket. He wasn’t stroking, not yet. Just holding, squeezing gently every time Chan’s hips twitched forward, keeping him right on the edge of madness.
“You hear that, love?” Minho whispered against his ear, soft enough for only him, though everyone could see the way Chan shivered. “They don’t mind. They’re even encouraging you.” Chan whimpered brokenly, trying to hide his face deeper in Minho’s chest.
Minho didn’t let him. He hooked two fingers beneath Chan’s chin and tilted his face back up, making him face the room. Chan’s eyes were glassy, half-lidded, lips bitten raw. His curls stuck damply to his forehead, sweat beading at his temple.
“Look at you,” Minho murmured with a smirk. “Already falling apart just because they’re watching.”
Chan whined, a sound so high and sweet it made Felix’s cheeks flush deeper against Jisung’s shoulder. His hips bucked helplessly into Minho’s fist, unable to stop himself anymore.
The slap of his cock against Minho’s palm, the faint wet squelch of precum-slick fabric — the sounds weren’t subtle. The TV played on, forgotten, but the living room was filled with the quiet intensity of Chan’s moans and the rhythm of his rocking hips.
Hyunjin licked his lips unconsciously, Changbin shifting beside him in the bean bag. Seungmin’s smirk hadn’t wavered, though his hand had crept lower on Jeongin’s thigh.
Chan’s toes curled against the carpet, his nails digging into Minho’s thigh so hard it had to hurt. His eyes rolled back for a moment, another broken sob slipping free as his body trembled with need.
“You’re gonna cum like this, aren’t you?” Minho teased loud enough for them to hear, stroking him just enough to make his back arch. “In front of all of them.”
“Min, please-” Chan choked, his voice shaking with both shame and want.
And that’s when Jisung’s small voice broke the tension, soft but clear in the thick air. “Minho hyung?” He shifted in Felix’s lap, his dark eyes wide but curious. “Can we see?” The room went even quieter, the weight of the question settling like heat. All eyes flicked from Jisung to Minho, waiting for the answer.
Chan’s whimper at the suggestion was shameless, his whole body shuddering in Minho’s arms. Minho chuckled low against Chan’s ear, his hand still stroking languidly under the blanket. “Did you hear that, baby? Jisung wants to see.”
Chan’s breath hitched, his face burning hot as he buried himself deeper in Minho’s chest. “N-no—”
Minho’s hand squeezed around his cock, making him jolt and cry out. “No?” he whispered with mock surprise. “Funny, because your body doesn’t agree. The mere idea makes you harder.”
Chan whined, nails raking against Minho’s thigh, his hips rutting helplessly into his fist. His voice was ruined, breathless and broken. “I-I can’t—”
Minho’s smirk deepened. He raised his voice just enough for the room to hear, eyes never leaving Chan’s flushed face. “What do you think, love? Do you want them to see you? Not only listen to you whine?”
Chan shook his head, stammering, “I-no-I… I shouldn’t—”
Minho pinched his tip, making him choke on a moan. “Shouldn’t, maybe. But do you want it?”
Chan’s whole body trembled, sweat dripping down his temple, his lip bitten red. His hips bucked once, twice, before the words tumbled out of him in a broken sob. “…yes.”
The room seemed to pulse with heat at the admission. “Good boy,” Minho purred, kissing his temple. He looked up at the others over Chan’s shoulder, his smirk wicked. “You heard him. He wants it. Be gentle or the show's over.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, then Jisung slid off Felix’s lap, kneeling on the floor before them. His hands shook slightly as he tugged the blanket down, exposing Chan’s swollen cock, red and dripping.
Chan whimpered, twisting in Minho’s hold, but Minho only held him steady, whispering, “Don’t hide now. They deserve to see how pretty you are like this.” Minho smiled, brushing his fingers over the flushed head. Chan’s entire body jolted, a sharp cry spilling from him as he nearly doubled over.
Felix was right behind, slipping down next to Jisung. “You’re beautiful like this, hyung,” he whispered, his freckles lit by the TV glow.
On the bean bag, Hyunjin’s chuckle was low and hungry. “Guess our leader’s not as composed as he wants everyone to think.” Changbin hummed in agreement, his sharp gaze never leaving Chan’s flushed face as he shifted forward.
Even Jeongin leaned closer from the sofa, curiosity burning in his eyes, while Seungmin’s smirk only grew, his fingers still tracing idle circles on Jeongin’s thigh.
Chan was surrounded, trembling in Minho’s arms, his cock twitching as Minho's hand wandered further down, circling his fingers against his hole. His voice cracked on a desperate sob, shame and pleasure twisting tight in his stomach. “Min-oh god, Minho~”
Minho’s smirk widened. “That’s it, baby. Lix, Jisung, pull down his pants properly so you can see.”
Jisung’s hands trembled as he tugged Chan's sweats lower, Felix helping to peel the fabric down his thighs. The cool air hit Chan's overheated skin, and he let out a strangled moan.
Chan twisted in Minho's hold, pleasure written all over his flushed face, but Minho's grip around his waist was iron. He kept him still, forcing him to stay open and vulnerable in front of their friends. “There he is,” Minho purred, curling his hand tighter around the base. “My loud, messy boy. Look at how hard you get just from them watching.”
Chan's eyes rolled back as Minho stroked him slowly, dragging slick down his shaft until his thighs trembled. The lewd squelch of it filled the room.
“God, hyung,” Jeongin whispered, eyes wide as he leaned closer, Seungmin’s hands on his own thighs burning.
Minho's smirk was wicked. “That’s it, baby. Don’t hold back. Show them how good I make you feel.”
Chan's whole body shook, sweat dripping down his temples, his nails clawing at Minho's thigh until the skin was bruised.
The others couldn’t look away. Hyunjin had gone still, biting his lower lip, while Changbin’s eyes darkened as he shifted forward in the bean bag. Jeongin leaned over the arm of the sofa, curiosity blazing, Seungmin’s smirk never faltering as his hand now rested on the obvious bulge in Jeongin’s lap. Jisung and Felix couldn't stop staring either.
Chan's toes curled hard against the carpet, his thighs shaking violently. His face was contorted in pure ecstasy, mouth wide open as loud, shameless moans spilled out one after another. “M-Minho-ahh, I-”
“You’re gonna come,” Minho whispered against his ear, his strokes tightening, faster now. “Let them see how pretty you are when you break for me.”
Chan wailed, head snapping back against Minho's shoulder, and then he came violently, thick ropes spilling across his stomach. His entire body convulsed, eyes rolling back, mouth open on a cry that echoed through the dorm.
Minho held him tight, riding out every pulse of his release, keeping him grounded as he shook and shook in his lap. When Chan finally sagged, boneless and trembling, Minho pressed a kiss to his damp temple. “Good boy,” he murmured proudly, loud enough for the room. His eyes lifted and he couldn't deny the kick it gave him to see their closest friends watching with wide, hungry eyes. It was easy to tell the effects it had on them seeing their leader like this and Minho couldn't hide the satisfied little smirk tugging at his lips.
He reached for the tissues on the table and cleaned Chan up gently, tucking him back in and kissing the back of his neck. Chan curled up in his arms, almost shyly meeting the others’ eyes. And what he saw in them told him he'd never have to try and be quiet with Minho in here ever again.
“Well, the show's over,” Minho chuckled and got up, picking Chan up into his arms with a soft grunt. “I’ll go take care of him…you go take care of what this did to you all,” he smirked, ignoring the half-hearted protests. Minho laughed and carried Chan to his room.
The sound of running water soon filled the quiet as Minho turned on the taps, steam curling up in soft waves. When the bath was ready, he helped Chan inside before slipping in behind him, pulling the older boy back against his chest.
Chan let out a long, shaky sigh as the heat enveloped him, the remaining tension bleeding slowly out of his muscles. Minho reached for the shampoo, working it carefully through Chan’s curls in slow, soothing circles. Chan’s eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting back slightly as Minho massaged his scalp, rinsing the lather with gentle fingers. “That’s it,” Minho murmured against his ear, his voice calm and steady. “You did so well today. I’m proud of you.”
Chan flushed, his cheeks warmed by more than just the steam. He turned his head slightly, pressing a shy kiss to Minho’s jaw. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice small, fragile in the safety of Minho’s arms. “For taking care of me.”
Minho’s hands didn’t stop their work, gliding over Chan’s chest and shoulders, rinsing away soap before wrapping his arms fully around him again. “Always,” he answered simply, pressing his lips to the damp curls at the crown of Chan’s head.
When they were clean and warm, Minho helped him out of the bath, drying him off with a towel before leading him to bed. The sheets were cool against their skin as Minho pulled him close, wrapping himself around Chan like a shield. Chan burrowed instantly into the embrace, his face pressed to Minho’s collarbone, his breathing already slowing.
Minho brushed a thumb across his cheek, watching the last of the day’s strain melt away. “Sleep well, my sweet boy,” he whispered against his temple. “I’ve got you.” And with that, Chan let himself drift off, safe and cherished in Minho’s arms.
PART ONE | PART THREE
MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES
Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):
🏷️ boypussies, use of toys (a dildo machine and a cumming toy), breeding kink, oral (cunnilingus), pain kink (pussy biting), squirting.
— bang chan
chan is no stranger to having his cunt used. he loves it when you rub your skin against him just to tease, or slide toys in his tight and wet hole. considering how pretty his folds look and how huge his oversensitive clit is, it’s easy to get him on edge by just flicking your tongue against it. he especially loves it when you lock your lips around his clit, sucking on the bud, making him squirm and writhe under you.
“t-too good,” he’d whine, attempting to cage your head between his trembling thighs; it’s no use with the way your arms lock his legs down so you could concentrate. chan’s desperation to orgasm washes over him as you lap up at his sweet clit, taking your time to taste his juices in between flicks. the savory taste of his folds paired with the delicious whimpers only spur you on. you could eat him out for hours.
“y-y/n,” he stutters, “i’m close!” and he instinctively tries to push you away from his cunt, but your lips are attached to his aching clit and it feels so good. too good. chan’s head spins even more when you shove your fingers inside him and you clamp his clit in between your lips and tongue. chan creams all over you, embarrassed at how wet and sticky his cum is, but you eat it and show your tongue to his shy face.
“you’re so sensitive, channie.”
— minho
it’s no surprise that your favorite catboy has one hell of a pussy to play with. there’s something about his that screams addictive to you: maybe it’s the taste of it. he’s particularly sweet, surprising for a boy who creams more than he squirts. it doesn’t help that of all the places on his cunt, his hole is heartwarmingly delicious, as if it was made for your tongue to stick inside. minho loves it when you’re casual with it. any agenda of his to out-brat your other boys is thrown out the window every time you caress his pussy and stick a finger inside his creamy walls.
“so needy for a boy who claims to hate this,” you smirk, “aren’t you such a liar?”
“i’m not,” minho’s voice vibrates, “just stop making it feel good!”
but of course, you don’t stop. you keep going. you dip your head down to his cunt and replace your fingers with your tongue every now and then, sometimes biting his thighs when he dares to close his legs around you. he barely speaks until he’s a squeaking mess, begging and creaming on your fingers in an endless orgasm that just won’t stop.
“don’t pull out,” minho pleads with wide eyes while he shoves your fingers back inside his sticky cunt. “i want to feel full.”
— changbin
puffy, pretty, and pink. his hole hides cutely behind chubby lips and it’s delightfully sensitive along the sides. he loves being penetrated most, his nerves connecting and jolting best when you stretch his tight hole with yourself. whether it be fingers or a cock, changbin gets shy yet increasingly more greedy with every thrust of anything that enters his cunt.
“am i a good boy?” he asks every now and then. you reassure him with kisses that yes, he’s indeed so good, taking the biggest dildo so well even if it’s pushing his limit. he’s unsurprisingly a size king, which is surprising considering how tight he is. even if the monster cock toy leaves him gaping, his pussy has the magical ability to revert back to being too small for your two fingers right after.
“i want to cum!” he whines over and over, chasing your lips for another kiss while he bounces on the dildo again. he loves workouts but his body is so sore from bouncing. it doesn’t help that, instead of helping him finish, you simply push down on his puffy tummy and let him feel the whole size of the toy inside him.
you ask “is it good?” and he nods speechlessly, only to respond seconds later with a loud whimper. you look down to see his cream leaking down the dildo, coating all of it in his juice. when you finally pull the toy out, changbin whines into your warmth, hiding his pretty pussy as his cum seeps out all the way onto your thighs.
— hyunjin
hyunjin’s biggest kink is to get creampied, so he did something behind your back. he ordered a cumming dildo, and of course, used it right away. his cunt couldn’t be any more excited — the only thing rivaling how sopping wet he gets is when you’re actually playing with him. hyunjin could settle with this for now, his pussy only dripping more until his panties got soaked as he connected the cum lube to the toy.
from how wet he was, the big toy slid in with ease; he felt like crying as soon as it hit his limit, squishing his insides even if the toy hasn’t filled him up with cum yet. so, as he would do with you, he moved his hips to “please” the dildo and felt the toy all the way inside. his instinct to be bred, one that came along with having a cunt as beautiful as his, overloaded his system as he greedily rode the toy. he definitely minded when you came in the room to help him, though.
“y/n, please, breed me!”
cutely enough, his moans fill the room as you pressed the mole on the side of his pussy. your laughter along with your hands helping his hips down made him leak cum, but he didn’t dare stop. you grabbed the end of the toy and squeezed cum to load out of it, which only urged hyunjin to keep going. the cum filled him up slightly, but not quite — the boy kept bouncing so as to “empty” the cock inside him. that was, until the toy finally emptied, hyunjin’s body spent after five consecutive orgasms. the cum seeped out, flooding out of his beautifully folded lips like a waterfall of delight.
“good boy,” you say, “how about you get the real thing, hmm?”
— han jisung
his pussy is the freakiest, having tasted it all from your antics: he’s taken vibrators in public and he lost his pussy’s virginity to you. who wouldn’t treat it as cruelly as you do? why not, when jisung tends to leak his wet essence messily each time you play with it, especially since he’s tried so many toys with you?
the one toy jisung hasn’t tried yet was a dildo machine. he can immediately feel the heat pooling in his core at the mere sight of you stroking the dildo, teasing him by previewing the speed controller. his legs instinctively closed and tightened firmly to hide the wetness running down his leg. but jisung blinked twice, and unbelievably instantly, he was suddenly on all fours in front of the machine.
“wait—” he asked, but you didn’t hesitate one bit when you slid the dildo into his cunt.
the machine starts pumping slowly into the boy, stretching him fully and filling him up to his limit before slowly pulling back to leave him empty. then it would thrust back inside again, the squelching of his leaky pussy filling the air alongside his moans and cries. jisung held his ass up high as he melted onto the carpet, drooling and relishing in the picked-up pace.
an orgasm started before he could even prepare, jisung whining loudly not even five minutes into the machine action, before the toy slides out — jisung squirts everywhere without warning, his clear and sweet cum making its way on your thigh even if you were on the couch. that’s how messy he always gets, but he’s never came this fast.
“that’s all? i didn’t buy this for you to cum in three minutes,” you smirk, pushing him back down on the toy.
— felix
something about a freckled pussy is just too cute to you. you loved kissing felix’s cunt for the sole reason that it was just so adorable. the shape of it, the color of it, even the starry sky of freckles littered around his pussy. there’s a lot to kiss, a lot to love, a lot to destroy.
given the oversensitivity of felix’s nerves down his crotch area, it’s easy to overstimulate him. even something as light and lovely as the pecks you leave on the beauty marks and freckled skin gets him writhing. “but i love your pretty pussy,” you justify, leaving lipstick marks all over his cunt in the process.
feeling your lips on his pussy lips is heaven to him. felix grabs onto the sheets, too scared to pull on your head, jutting his hips upwards so that you could kiss him better. it’s all over when you kiss his clit though, all of his nerves reigniting at once as lightning strikes through his core. he instantly gets wet, essence spilling on your bottom lip and chin in the process.
“s-sorry, didn’t mean to…” he could almost cry from the pleasure and the rising need. he feels you smile, even if your face is hovering over him now and not touching his skin in the slightest. he still feels it without looking — he’s too shy now, burying his face in the pillow to the side.
but you’re not done.
you take two fingers down his slit, teasing his severely wet entrance, but it’s all a distraction. felix waits for you to put it in, let him cum, get it over with. the rare impatience grows within the usually patient boy until he feels pain shoot up.
you bit his clit. and it feels so good that he squirts under you, wiggling under you like a poor little boy.
— seungmin
what you don’t expect of seungmin is for him to admit that he’s a squirter. he confessed it in a dirty party game once and ever since then, it’s been your life’s mission to see it in action. you knew that he’d always been so incredibly wet every time he came, but he apparently squirts like a fountain personally sculpted by god.
as you slide your fingers through his cunt, his pussy squelches sinfully. it drenches the sheets beneath him, coating everything in a savory essence that can only be described as a natural aphrodisiac. the wet sounds paired with seungmin’s shy whimpers fills you with an aggression you can’t express without a necessary gentleness on his pussy. as poetic as it is literal, even the scent of his cunt is enough to drive you down between his legs, ready to ruin him.
“no, n-no, don’t do that! i’ll squirt—” seungmin chokes on his own words as your fingers hook his sweet spot, clit violated by your tongue and lips. he practically screams as you bite through your lips, jolting everywhere as his body readies itself for a full orgasm. “i-i can’t take it, too much, too much!”
begs and pleas fill the room for you to both stop and keep going, his grip on your head either pushing you away and pulling you in, he doesn’t know either. but before he could even spare a second thought, he jolts his hips up, followed by a powerful stream of wet cum. he soaks you fully, apologizing with his face behind his hands. you open his fists and kiss his cheeks happily, making him smile contently.
— jeongin
there’s nothing more for him to be confident about than of his freshly shaved pussy. he promised to be a good boy for you on this date night, and in the off-chance that you were going to treat him, then he had to be at his best. now here you both were, making out on the couch, jeongin whimpering because the both of you were still fully clothed after an hour of teasing.
“what’s wrong?” you ask. “i wanna show you my pussy…” jeongin shyly asks, every shroud of prior confidence leaving him as the desperation kicks in. you only chuckle in response, the delightful sound making his clit firm in excitement. but you don’t do anything. it’s a part of your teasing, sure, but he’s been waiting so excruciatingly long for you and it shows through his needy whines.
jeongin finally takes it upon himself to tug at your tie; you pull down at the hem of his pants , revealing his panties, only to shove both down in only two swift moves. it catches jeongin by surprise, but it’s nothing compared to the shock on your face to see his clean pussy.
you love him hairy and you love him clean, you don’t really mind either. jeongin’s still the same, the prettily creamy folds presenting themselves to you along with a hidden slit that can only be described as angelically cute. you finger it immediately, all teasing discarded along with both your clothes, and your haste brings him over the edge. “y/n,” he pants, your name being the only thing on the tip of his tongue as he immediately creams all over your hands.
He kneels because he needs to, not because you demand it. The carpet digs into his knees through his jeans, but he doesn't shift. His hands are locked behind his back—not tied, just held there by his own will. His biceps strain against the sleeves of his shirt, the muscles standing out as he keeps his posture rigid and obedient.
He looks up at you.
That's the thing about Chan's surrender—it's not weakness. It's a deliberate, calculated gift. His jaw is set, but his lips part slightly, just enough for you to see the tip of his tongue wetting them. He doesn't speak. Doesn't ask. He waits, and in that waiting, he gives you everything: his attention, his patience, his strength held in check.
You step closer, and his breath hitches—barely audible, but you catch it. His eyes track your every movement, dark and hungry, but he doesn't reach for you. Not yet. Not until you say so.
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗕𝗼𝗱𝘆
Under the loose black tee, his shoulders are broad, his chest defined from hours in the gym. He could easily pin you down, flip you over, take whatever he wanted. That's the unspoken truth hanging in the air between you.
Instead, he stays still. His thighs tremble slightly from holding the kneeling position, but he doesn't complain. When you run a hand through his hair, his eyes flutter shut, and a soft, broken exhale escapes him—a sound that doesn't match the solid weight of his body.
You grip his hair, pull his head back. His throat bobs as he swallows. A vein pulses at his temple. He doesn't resist. You feel the corded muscles of his neck flex as he lets you tilt him exactly as you want.
"Good," you murmur.
The word hits him like a physical blow. His cock twitches in his jeans, visible even through the dark denim. He's already hard, has been since you told him to kneel. But he says nothing. He just holds your gaze, waiting.
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗦𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲
Chan doesn't beg. That's not his form of surrender. Instead, he shows you through restraint.
When you drop to your knees in front of him, he inhales sharply. His hands stay locked behind his back even though every instinct screams at him to touch you. You unbutton his jeans, pull down the zipper, and he doesn't help. He lets you do it. His cock springs free, thick and already leaking, and he stares at the ceiling as if praying for control.
You wrap your hand around him, and his hips twitch—a desperate, aborted thrust. He catches himself, forces his hips back down. A low growl rumbles in his chest, but he bites his lip before the sound can escape.
"I didn't say you could move," you say.
His eyes snap to yours, apologetic. He nods once. Small. Obedient.
You lean in and take the head of his cock into your mouth, and his whole body tenses like a drawn bow. He's shaking. His hands clench and unclench behind his back. But he doesn't move. Doesn't thrust. He lets you set the rhythm, lets you take him apart piece by piece.
When you pull away, he's gasping, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. He looks wrecked. His cheeks are flushed, his hair disheveled from where you pulled it. His abs are taut, his cock glistening, and he's still kneeling, still waiting.
"Please," he finally whispers—the first word he's spoken in minutes. It's rough, broken, barely audible.
You smile. "Please what?"
He swallows. "Please let me taste you."
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗹
When you finally grant him permission, he moves with an urgency that makes him look almost feral—but he doesn't lose the core of his surrender. He presses his face between your thighs, his tongue flat and hot, and moans into you like he's been starved. His hands stay behind his back even now, his mouth doing all the work, his broad shoulders wedged between your legs.
He's methodical. Precise. He learns the sounds you make, the way your hips rock against his face, the moment your fingers tangle in his hair and pull him closer. He takes it all, absorbs it, gives you everything you want.
When you come undone against his mouth, he drinks it down like a prayer, his eyes closed, his body trembling with the effort of staying still.
After, he rests his forehead against your thigh, breathing hard. His hands are still behind his back. He doesn't move until you tell him he can.
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗵
Collapsed beside you, he lets you trace the lines of his chest, his arms, the tension bleeding out of his muscles. He's soft now—not weak, but spent. His eyes are half-lidded, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.
"Thank you," he murmurs, and you know he means it. Not for the sex, but for the trust. For letting him be the one who doesn't have to lead.
He curls his hand around your wrist, gentle, and presses a kiss to your palm—a silent reminder that even in surrender, he's still yours.
