that boy is a monster - bang chan
You know what he is, you've seen every side of him, even that side. Your friendship is finally blossoming into something you've both been keeping to yourselves for too long... Vowing to take it slow, because you both care too much, you're unaware that his condition will force him into compromising situations now that he's got you...
wc - 9.3k warnings - explicit sexual content, monster fucker, p in v, multiple orgasms, biting/teeth involved, mentions of him marking body with teeth/nails, it's rough, he bangs her up pretty good, dom!chan, sub space?, free use?, friends to lovers, chan can shift into a wolf, he's called chris in this sors but i like chris yes i am that girl, spooky vibes, this is a part of the creu/plumverse. notes - written for @minkieater and i's kinktober 2025. .⋆♱ (reposted)
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24TH, 2025 JIANGSHI
He ran off campus before you even had the chance to stop him.
Cold, damp, drizzling, the air all a bit misty, a fog hanging thick like curtains to peer through, you tiptoed over puddles filling the dips in the ground of Kiken University and pulled your sweater over your shoulders. Lumpy, smoothed over with age-old concrete and limestone, the walkways were a minefield, you and your best friend Yuna leapt over cracks and obstacles with your elbows linked together.
“He didn’t tell you where he was going?” she asked you, stepping over a patch of moss.
Clinging to her sweatshirt, both of your hoods up, you shrugged and hopped over a puddle, taking her with you. “Nope. He usually does, if he’s got work or something, but he disappeared. Didn’t even stop at the corner of Wattz and Fallon’s.”
Pouting, she gave you a glance, her glittery eyeshadow gleaming in the warm glow of the ancient street lights. “He always stops.”
Copying her face, you mumbled, “I know. He always stops.”
“Maybe,” she sang, swinging your arm around, skipping a few times, “He’s surprising you.”
A gentle roll of your eyes made her giggle. “Cute, but he’s not surprising me,” you said, looking up at the grey, almost black sky. “Something’s up.”
Yuna’s curious eyes followed yours, squinting at the abyss that lived above you. “Like what, has he been okay?”
“I think so,” you sighed, scouring the sky. Letting go of her, you spun around and walked backwards, eyes pointed up. “He would tell me, though. He’s always told me.”
Burying her hands in the pocket on her front, she asked, “Told you what?”
Furrowing your brows, you shook your head and turned around, hooking your arms together again. “Nothing. It’s nothing, he’s fine, he’ll call me.”
A gentle smile bled onto her cheeks. “He’ll call,” her voice lilted, a cutesy song, “He likes you.”
Groaning aloud, dramatically, you knocked into her side, nearly pushing her into the constant flood of water that flushed down the curbs of Jiangshi. “Let it go,” you muttered, “He said it once. We said it once.”
Yuna wiggled her brows, leaning into you, her lips almost grazing your cheek. “And you guys have been ignoring it since!” She jumped on her feet. “Get to it!”
Scoffing, you shot her a glare. “There is nothing to get to, Yuna. It’s… complicated.”
“How?” Bouncing her knees once, dragging her feet, she droned on, “You guys have known each other for so long, you’ve been friends for so long, you’ve both had feelings for so, so, so long, you should’ve never been just friends in the first place.”
“We’re just better this way,” you said quietly, looking back up into the clouds.
She blinked at you, then tipped her chin backward. “What the hell are you looking at? It’s Jiangshi, it always looks the same. Dark, raining, miserable.”
Tugging her closer to you, for warmth, for comfort, you averted your glare to the ground and shrugged loosely. “Nothing, just… looking for the moon.”
Pushing your apartment door open with your sneaker, you stepped in, flicked on the yellow lights that buzzed to life and flickered occasionally, and stripped yourself of your wet clothes. Shoes first, you kicked them off by the door, leaving them there to dry next to the other three pairs in your rotation of Jiangshi weather safe shoes. Pulling your hoodie off from the bottom, you turned the corner into your smaller bedroom and threw it in the hamper next to the bathroom door, doing the same to your jeans, slipping yourself into sweats to shield you from the Jiangshi cold.
Pulling your hair back, your socked feet took you into the kitchen that ate up half of the space with the living room. Yanking open cabinets you pulled down a mug and some kind of tea your aunt sent you to the city with. She told you it helped ward off colds and different sicknesses one could catch from the dreary weather. It tasted good, though an acquired taste at first, cinnamoney, some peppermint, a bit of warm and cool all at once, a type of sensation that began to help you sleep after you became accustomed to it. It would knock you out all night, nothing could wake you up.
Turning the water on the stove, you leaned against the counter and folded your arms over your chest. Pictures lined your cabinets, polaroids, strips from photobooths, photos on printer paper, all full of friends, a few of you and your aunt, most of them you and Chris…
His wide, real, genuine smile, brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. The sunshine in Jiangshi. Your sunshine. You couldn’t help but smile too, every time he would. Even looking at the photos, you felt it in your cheeks. Comfort. A constant in your life that moved all the way out here with you, two people not knowing where the hell they were going in life, but knowing that they needed to do it together.
Jiangshi’s been good to you both, school rocked, you fell in love with your classes, your professors, but for Chris, it changed his life entirely.
You knew him, deep down to his core, he’s never belonged anywhere more than he has in Jiangshi. Up in Iloa, a dry city full of stuck up assholes, you both found a place you belong here, but Chris, he found family.
It was hard to not feel jealous, a lot of his time he used to spend with you, he now gave it to the friends he’s made, the family he’s found, and as much as you understood, as much as you knew he needed it, it hurt.
Your constant became an every now and again. A ‘maybe I can, let me just see what Minho is doing…’. You became a filler in his life, someone he’d come to when everyone else was busy.
You’ve met his friends, seven of them all with the same sharpness in their features, the puppy in their eyes, the literal warmth radiating off of their bodies– God, you’d hate to be stuck in close quarters with all of eight of them at once, testosterone aside, the body heat, you’d suffocate. You can hardly handle sitting too close to Chris on the couch.
They were a great group of guys, Chris has told how they’ve taken him in, how much they’ve taught him, the confidence they’ve fed him… He found his place. He found his pack.
But, that used to be you.
You were his pack. Words spoken to you back home in Iloa under a new moon, embracing the utter calm before the storm.
The feelings were new, though they’ve been buried within both of you for years. Neither of you expressed feeling more until a month ago. In his car, parked down an alleyway in the rain, housing a pizza while the CD he burnt for you played on repeat in the background of your giggles and endless chatter. Somehow the pizza box ended up on the floor of the backseat, somehow you crawled over the console, somehow you wound up in his lap, and somehow, someway, he had kissed you.
It’s been weird since then.
That night, one that made you feel things you’ve never felt before, the look in his eyes, the flash of gold brand new to either of you, something he’s never done, or been able to do, something shifted.
Something changed.
And though he hasn’t been avoiding you, that night hasn’t ever been talked about since it happened, but he wasn’t exactly making an effort to see you.
Pouring the boiling water into a mug, tea leaves swirling in the ceramic before settling to the bottom, you hooked the handle around your fingers and started for the couch, tiptoeing, being oh, so careful to not spill a drop on the floor–
BAM! BAM! BAM!
You spilled more than a drop.
Leaping backward, tea splattering over the floor, body taking a screenshot, you nearly tossed the mug onto the counter, spilling even more tea over the linoleum.
“What the fuck,” you grumbled, wiping your hands on your sweats, checking them for burns, unable to process what had just happened.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Spinning around, eyes wide, your door shook with the force it was banged upon.
Doors didn’t open in Jiangshi, not after you were already inside. Once inside, you stayed inside. Anyone who came with you stayed inside as well, no strays allowed.
“It’s me, let me in!” Except one. “Please,” his voice broke, his accent thicker than ever, and… was he slurring his words? “Fuck, I can’t…” The sound of him moved away from the door, the shuffling of his feet heard on the wood of the landing outside.
Stepping closer, you shouted, “Chris?”, and heard him gasp.
Then, the hair on your arms sprung straight up, a chill shot down your spine, and your ears were pierced by the disgusting sound of sharp nails on metal. Dragging. Digging. Carving their way into the doorframe.
Covering your ears until he deemed himself satisfied, you grabbed onto the doorknob and held it tight, peering out of the viewer you could only see the top of his head. Wet, stringy blonde hair pushed backward, his head hanging forward, down, his shoulders rising and falling significantly, heaving air through his lungs. He looked like himself, just tired. And soaked.
Both hands were pressed to either side of the door, waiting.
Patient.
And when he lifted his head, a shock shot through your nervous system.
Bright, burning golden eyes glowed in the dark of night, his sharp canines extended in both rows of gorgeous teeth, his lips parted, brows pulled together, distraught, somewhat hurt… Actually hurt. A gash on his bottom lip greeted you after his tongue swiped over it, red staining his teeth. On his arms, scratches upon scratches, not deep enough to worry, but enough to discipline.
Your heart squeezed between your lungs. This has happened before, a fight with one of the guys, one he cowered away from after learning his place, where he stood, and he came to you, and you patched him up. You took care of him, and he slept on your couch, and he sipped that special tea.
That night his eyes didn’t glow. That night his canines weren’t growing, and retracting, and growing again, nor did he have the need to dig his nails into absolutely anything, they never even made an appearance even after his moans and groans in protest of the sting of you cleaning his wounds.
“I can’t let you in,” you said softly, keeping your voice steady.
Tilting his head sideways, squeezing his eyes shut, nose scrunching, he muttered a fast and quiet, “Yes-you-can.”
Glancing at the locks on your door, one on the handle and two security hooks inches above it, you moved slowly and latched them both, doing your utmost best to not make a sound. His nails creased the metal of the doorframe and your whole body cringed. Peering out at him, he tipped his head back and whined. More animal than anything.
“Don’t, don’t,” he breathed, pushing from the door, digging his hands in his hair. His elbows were just as scuffed as the rest of him. His black t-shirt, filthy. His dark ripped denim jeans, filthy. “Don’t use those locks, let me in, please.”
“Chris, I can’t, you know that,” you said, your tone gentle.
His head tilted again, the other way, a sharp movement that made his eyes shut once more, like the sound of your voice triggered him. Watching him stagger backward, you can see that he’s more bulky than his usual form, his muscles bulged in his sleeves, his chest threatening to rip through the fabric. The curve in his back, the slightest hunch, the bend in his knees, ever so small, but there.
“What is happening, the moon isn’t full,” you said, and he winced, teeth baring, teetering forward, not in control of himself, slamming against the door, his claws digging into it. Jumping away at the force, you withheld the yelp in your throat, knowing that if he heard you, and you were scared, he’d never forgive himself. Leaning back into it, laying a hand over your chest, you peered through the viewer. “Where did you come from?”
He lifted his head. The glow of his eyes had gone back to normal, sweet caramel chocolate swirl a relief to see. Gasping for air, his teeth having not retracted just yet, he shook his head. “Minho’s,” he mumbled.
“Why did he hurt you?”
Chris clenched his jaw and swallowed, tightening his brow, humming to himself as gold began to course through his irises. “Mmm’he didn’t,” he mumbled, loosing a breath, some sort of smile gracing his pretty lips, a flash of Chris, your Chris. “I hurt him,” he admitted, trying to laugh, “I can’t… control this right now.”
Throat tightening, you took a breath. Minho. “So, he what? Set you free? Fought back, lost, set you loose on the city? Great leader you’ve got there.”
He growled.
Oops.
Teeth shooting out, eyes flashing red for all of two seconds, he threw both fists at the door and shouted. “Keep his name out of your mouth!”
“Chris!” Raising your voice although it shook, you shifted your hands to your belly, holding onto yourself tight.
A whine ripped through him, a pathetic gasp to follow. Face contorting in anguish, he collapsed onto the door, laying his cheek to it. “M’sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean that, I can’t- I can’t-”
Pressing yourself to the door, you sighed. “Can’t control it, I know, it’s okay, Chris.”
Moving faster than humanly possible, he shot straight up, eyes aglow with gold. You heard his hands, his palms brush over the door, no nails to follow. Gaze darting around, searching, his brain logging things impossible to you, his nose scrunched and he groaned.
“He sent me here.”
Your eyes went wide. “W-Who did? Minho?”
Chris swallowed, eyes narrowing, nose twitching with a frown of his lips. “Yeah,” he whispered, and you heard his hands move around the door. “There was nothing he could do for me.”
Appalled, you scoffed and tapped your fingers on the door. “And, there’s something here I can do for you?”
He looked directly at the viewer, startling you. “Yes,” he whispered. He blinked, the gold dimming. Slamming his palms on the door, he walked backward a few steps and shook his head. “No, what the fuck,” he mumbled to himself, dragging his hands through his hair and over his face. “No, no, no. Tell me to leave,” he said, walking back up to the door, “Tell me to leave, right now.”
“Chris, you’re hurt, and you’re not okay, I can’t just-”
He slammed his hands to the door, harder than ever, the vibrations moving through the metal, moving through you. “Tell me to leave! Now!” His scream, it should’ve scared you, should’ve been the red flag, but the gold of his eyes, the gold you saw that night in his car, on his lap, his hands on your waist, little space between you, between kisses…
You put the tip of your finger on one of the locks.
One little slide and it would come undone.
Chris tightened his jaw. “What are you doing?”
Incredible how you made no sound, yet he could hear you.
Golden eyes glanced into the viewer, glanced at you.
Pushing with your finger, you let the chain clang against the doorframe, and watched him berate with himself once more. Somewhere between man and wolf, his consciousness fist fighting for control and losing miserably.
“Don’t. Don’t, please, don't," he mumbled as your finger moved on top of the second lock. “If I can smell you through the door, I won’t be able to… Don’t do it. Tell me to leave.”
Your whisper made him moan. “You won’t hurt me.”
His fists hit the metal. “That was before…”
“Before, what?” You slid the second lock open, and he sighed, his teeth sharpening, his eyes burning brighter, the sounds he made growing louder.
“Don’t open the door,” he begged, “Please, I can’t… I won’t be able to stop. I know I said let me in, don’t listen to me. Do-not-listen-to-me.”
The last lock ticked, and he snapped. Eyes pointed at the handle, body on alert. So still it was as if anyone could walk by and not see him.
You’ve never felt more like prey in your life.
But, why did it feel… good?
Twisting the handle, he didn’t move. He didn’t move until you pulled the door all the way open. He barely got a look at you before he curled into himself, pressing his hands to his face, over his eyes, over his nose. Collapsing backward, he fell against the doorframe and groaned so loud it rang in your ears.
“Chris,” you whispered, and he shot you a glare, clawing his hands at his sides, no nails in sight.
Eyes burning gold, he scrunched his nose and took a step into your apartment, slamming the door behind him. Large, bulky, strong. Much, much bigger than you. Though he looked himself, he most certainly was not himself. With one heavy step toward you, almost a charge, you leapt back some and he hurled himself into the kitchen. The dramatics. Throwing himself over a counter, burying his head in his hands, he groaned, body and muscles twitching, trying to move, his consciousness holding his own.
“...alone, leave it alone, can’t, can’t, can’t…not right…why’d he make me do this…smell, the smell…”
You made out every other word of his grumbles.
“Smell?” you questioned. “That’s the second time you’ve said that.”
Snapping his neck, he glared at you. Pure wolf. “You smell.”
Blinking, lips parted with an afterthought, you scoffed. “Excuse me?” Taking a hand to your hoodie, you lifted it to your nose. Soft lavender. “I changed when I got home. If anyone smells, it’s you, wet dog.”
He tried a smile, still bent over the counter. “That’s what you smell?” Rolling your eyes, you nodded. “Keep it that way,” he whispered.
“Why?”
“...Because.”
“Because, why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Because you said so?”
He pounded his fists into the counter, standing up to full height, shoulders rolling back, asserting every bit of dominance. “Just listen to me.”
Every muscle in your body that had tensed since he first knocked on the door had seemed to relax. “Okay,” you whispered, and he whined, collapsing back over the counter. “Chris, what’s happening?”
His nails sprung out, hands grasping the linoleum for stability. “Tell me… to leave,” he muttered into his beefy bicep, voice low, gravely.
“No, Chris, what the fuck, I am not telling you to leave, there is something wrong and I’d rather you be here with me, then out there-”
Pushing himself off the counter, he stumbled backward into the stove, clawing at his t-shirt. Breath ragged, he shook his head with vigor, his brows pleading with you in a language you didn’t understand. “You don’t have any idea what’s happening,” he grumbled.
Glancing around your apartment, you held out your hands and let them fall to your thighs. “Do I look like I know?”
In three quick paces he was in front of you, looking down at you, centimeters from your face, body heat wrapping around your throat, your lungs, your middle, your core. Breathing through his nose, his golden eyes fluttered shut and he sighed, shakily, jaw squaring, body stiffening, throat contracting…
Turning away from you, he hurried a step into the living room and folded himself in half over your couch, more unintelligible moans and groans falling from his lips.
“Chris,” you opened your hands once more, following behind him. Whirling around, he grabbed your wrists and yanked you into him, wedging you between him and the sofa. Towering above you, his thighs pressing into yours, broad chest impenetrable– you were stuck. “Chris.”
Taking your trembling voice for what it was, he rolled his eyes and huffed, leaning into you, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Your body,” he whispered, chills erupting down your arms, your legs, “Begs to be bred.”
Gasping, wriggling in his grasp, you cursed your legs for how they pressed together, for how your body seemed to react. He moved slow, pulling his lips, his hot breath from your ear and the expanse of your neck, looking down at you with warm glowing eyes. Alluring.
Gazing up at him, his sharp features, you whispered, “I-I’m… I’m…”
“Ovulating,” he spat through his teeth. His voice, broken, gritty. “Fertile.”
Sucking in a breath, a warmth spreading under your skin that had his chest heaving, you whispered, “And, you can, you can-”
He curled his lip, leaning into you. “Smell it.”
“Right,” you breathed, and he parted his lips to drink it in, a soft growl on his tongue, his eyes dropping to your mouth, “And… because you can… You want to-”
His eyes flickered to yours. “Fuck you.”
A barely there whimper fell out of you, and he started to smirk. “You’re in heat,” you stated, and he ran his tongue over his teeth, his canines, his consciousness slipping further and further away the longer he stood this close to you. Gulping, your own consciousness telling you to run from this, the pull of his gaze and the warmth of his body and the strength in his grip and the promise of receiving a piece of him you’ve wanted for oh, so long now…
“That’s why Minho sent you here,” you whispered. He didn’t bother to listen now, hearing you’ve got it all figured out, he stared at you, sized you up, a plan in his head he set in stone long ago written on his smug face. “You told him that-” “That I love you,” he whispered, a peek of him coming through, “Yeah, I did.”
“You lo…” The words cut off with a breath, your own breathing on manual now, and not because of the beast that was about to make you his dinner. Going limp in his hold, body weight falling onto his chest, you shook your head in tiny. “Chris… We said we’d go slow.”
He tilted his head to the side, a minute movement. You weren’t sure who spoke, or who you were speaking to, or if he could hear you clearly, if he could think clearly. “Can’t.”
His body wrapped around you, the heat, the persuasion of his eyes, everything else melted away.
“You don’t speak to me for like a month, and now you-”
Strong hands wrapped around your jaw, tipping you back. A flash of gold washed over you just before he brushed his nose over yours, his gaze falling to your lips. Warm air trickled from between his lips, down your neck, the blaze burning over your skin, down your chest, over your arms, your middle, between your legs, a brazen forest fire, uncontainable, one that twisted every thought with a devilish whisper of you want this…
Barely pursing his lips, he kissed you gently. A miniscule roll of his lips onto yours, entirely chaste, and you kissed him back just the same, a barely there push of lips against his. Inhaling deeply, a flutter in your heart, you took in the scent of something sweet, a soft flower, nothing too sharp like lavender, or poignant like rose, just, soft.
Comfort.
Allowing it to put your mind at ease, reminding yourself that this was Chris, the boy who spilled his feelings to you in a jumbled mess of words that half made sense, the boy who has always smelled this soft, the boy who has shown you his other side countless times and has never once ever hurt you… You stretched your arms over his chest, looping them around his neck, parting your lips to deepen what he’d been afraid of, sliding your tongue over his bottom lip– He ripped himself away from you.
All of your weight rested on him, when he jumped across the living room you had to catch yourself on the couch he’d been pressing you to. Sucking down air, startled by how he moved, breathless from how long he’d been kissing you, you whirled around and threw your hands out at your side.
“No,” he snarled, resting his back against the wall across from where you stood. Digging his fingers through his hair, he couldn’t look at you. His body tried to charge for you, though. “No, it’s not happening.”
Resting your hands on the cushions, you pressed your fingers into them. Gulping, you drug your eyes up and down his form, over every bulging muscle, every heave of his chest as his mind and body went to war, the ragged breaths tearing through his full, plump pink lips delectable as ever, the obvious bulge in his jeans he couldn’t deny if he tried.
Every sigh made your skin crawl.
Every twitch of his hips pooled saliva over your tongue.
Every flash of gold he beguiled your eyes with soaked your panties.
He moved far from you, but you could still smell him.
Soft, fresh clean laundry, a clear spring day, the first gust of air stepping into an ice cream shoppe.
Your muscles tensed.
Squeezing your legs together, bending at the knees, you furrowed your brows and clawed at the couch cushions, the sound triggering him to snap his neck in your direction, eyes focused, ears pointed at the sound. From your fingers to your lustrous gaze he studied. He stood up straight, head cocking to the side ever so slightly. Curious.
Body on absolute fire, the need wedged within your thighs unbearable, humiliating, you clenched your jaw and watched as he attempted to retract his claws, his teeth.
But, his eyes, burning as bright as the need coursing through your veins, like your feelings fueled their glow, gave birth to their very existence, they knew you were empty.
You’ve never felt it more than in this very moment, unable to recall the last time you ever did feel it.
Chris whispered with a scrunch of his nose, “I can smell you from here.”
“I can smell you, too,” you whispered back, and he raised a brow.
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes, I can.”
He took a steady breath. “Wet dog?”
Biting on your bottom lip, you blinked and gave him a smile. “Delicious.”
“Shit,” he sneered, spinning around, pressing his hands to his face. Prowling around the couch, tiptoeing behind him though he could hear every move you made, you smoothed your hands over the expanse of his back and trembled at the knees, something resembled a quiet whine slipping through your lips. “Don’t look at me anymore,” he said, then whispered, “Why did he tell me to come here?”
“Because I need you to fill me,” you breathed, and he shot straight up, hands pressing to the wall.
Scent thicker behind him like this, every thought of what if dissipated, the only one left behind is that of a thought you kept for yourself late at night, what it would feel like to have your legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped inside of you.
The sweetness grew tenfold.
“Chris,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his middle, clinging to his back, a mere koala hanging off of him.
More than a want, more than a need, your body craved him.
Taking a hand from the wall, he placed it over yours on his chest. Heavy, hot, strong. “It’s different,” he grumbled, shaking his head, letting it hang. “It won’t be me.”
“Yes, it will be,” you begged, pushing yourself against him.
Holding onto your hands, he turned and pressed his backside to the wall, tugging you into him. Nose to nose, he thinned his lips and shook his head. “You’re already close to halfway gone. Do you hear yourself? This isn’t you, it’s the-”
Gold pulsed in his irises as you clenched around nothing, his voice tickling your skin.
Snapping his mouth shut, he groaned to himself, attempting a deep breath. Leaning into you, his lips close to yours that you tried to catch and he wouldn’t let you, he whispered, “If I start, I won’t be able to stop.”
“That’s fine, that’s-”
He spat, “At all. Until I’m done, until my body is satisfied, until it knows you’re…”
The breath that pushed through your lips made him break his gaze, glaring elsewhere in the room.
“Bred,” you whispered. His breathing grew heavier, every exhale waltzing with a soft grunt that made you want to shove your hand in your pants. “This never happened before, why now?”
Chris’s throat tightened, his hands tensing around you. Shrugging, he mustered up the courage to look at you with a heavy sigh, “Because, it clicked. We’re it.”
Lips tipping up, you slid your hands down his front. “No shit, I can feel it.”
Catching your wrists before they slid too far, he groaned and pulled them up to his chest. “I can tell.”
“And now you have to give me a baby,” you whispered.
Throwing his head back, he just about roared, his groan echoing against your walls, gold eyes shining brighter than they have all night. Gripping your wrists with a vengeance, he peered down at you, gold like a siren song luring you into bed. “You tell me to leave, we can get through this. Let me go, and we’ll-”
“No.”
He flashed you all of his teeth, his canines, and glared at you. “No?”
Narrowing your eyes, lowering your brows, trying to hold onto him as tightly as he held onto you, you said it again with a snap of your jaw. “No!”
Grunting, he pushed off of the wall and towered over you, walking you backward through your living room. “Did you hear me? What I said?” Excitement flooded your senses, sugary sweets lingered in the air, his heat fogged your windows. He paused in the doorway of your bedroom. “If I start… I won’t be able to stop.”
You wanted him everywhere, his size, his teeth, his strength. Sideways, in your bed, over the back of your sofa, on the kitchen counter, naked, sweaty and making a mess of each other, unable to get enough, utterly famished, and you needed him to pump you full, milking himself dry, as many times as it’d take, you were his to ruin, to claim.
Your body gave you away, it was as if he could read every thought.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do,” he whispered, voice quiet. He knew he’d lost.
You needed him inside of you yesterday. Pressing your thighs together, smiling as his nose twitched, you rose to your tiptoes and brushed your lips over his cheek. “But, you do.”
Wrenching his eyes shut, he grasped the doorframe. Breathless, he admitted, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You won’t,” you whispered, kissing his cheek, dancing a hand over his chest and thundering heart. “You could never hurt me. I know you won’t. I want you.” He opened his golden eyes to your innocent smile. “Please?”
Arms engulfing you, he picked you up effortlessly, tossing you back onto your bed made with a plush grey comforter and about a hundred pillows. Through a laugh, you bounced on the mattress and sat up on your elbows, reaching one hand out for him to grab, but he opted for your ankles. In the dark, his eyes burned bright, his expression turning from one you knew to one that pierced through you, into you, deep.
Pulling you toward him by the ankles, you giggled and hummed as your hips met, circling yours against him, grinding into him. He laid over you, his feet firm on the floor, taking your forearms in his, laying you backward on the bed, pinning you down. Jaw clenched tight, he stared at you, his breath shallow and quiet. Nose just grazing your skin, he moved with caution, sizing you up, gaze eating you alive and examining you like he wasn’t sure you were good enough.
Breath tickled your neck, his nose and his chin nudging you gently, a predator stalking his prey.
In the quiet of your bedroom his soft grunts of contentment rendered your brain dizzy, every release like he pushed a finger inside of you, bringing you closer to the edge without even touching you. His tongue drug up the side of your neck, the faintest touch, tasting you, his groan melting into one of your own, a heavy breath caught between your bodies. Aside from his hands, his hips pressing into yours, he didn’t touch you, but his teeth did, soon after his tongue teased beneath your ear.
Arching into his chest, sucking in a breath, the tips of his canines drug over your neck, Chris pressing them into your skin below your chin, his entire jaw almost locking around your throat. If he finished shifting, he’d fit your neck between his teeth easily, too easily. Even now he’d be able to rip into it, his fangs seemed to grow sharper the longer he toyed with you.
Your shaky breath startled him, the push of air making him cower backward, his head dropping and his shoulders rising, his hands pressing yours further into the mattress. His shoulders had widened some, his form larger, every muscle bulkier, thicker, veinier. You could feel the claws on his fingers digging into your arms, just as sharp as his teeth that now poked out over his pink lip.
The final form before the last.
Exhaling through his nose, the breath heavy and hot, his glowing eyes stared into yours.
He didn’t blink.
He didn’t move.
An apex predator.
One as smart as he was strong, as beautiful as he was rough.
He could kill you, right now, and he’d make it quick, a simple task for a monster of his size, his intelligence, but as his golden eyes finally blinked, and cotton candy wafted through the air, the sturdy jaw that’s clamped down and ripped through a plethora of nothings you care to remember, it softened. His lips parted, and both sets of teeth poked through, a gentle growl sneaking out of the depths of him.
Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath shook with every sigh, your hips desperately ground against his. Lifting your head, coming nose to nose, you whispered, “Chris?”
Grizzly breath poured over you, your man now more creature than ever. Voice rough, scratchy, so deep that it vibrated inside of you, he forced the words out of himself. “M’still here.”
“Good,” you whispered, brushing your nose side to side over his. “I’m-”
He pushed down on your arms, knocking you back on bed. Throwing his head down to your chest, his back curved and he groaned, loud, you’re certain you heard a crack.
Gasping, you squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head away.
This was it.
Panting, a whine escaping with every breath, you attempted to melt into the mattress, unable to even contemplate how you were going to get out of here. “No,” you whispered, listening to him groan, listening to him try to fight it. You’ve been through this before, you’ve both tried everything, there was no fighting it. “Don’t, Christopher, please,” you babbled, shaking your head, “Don’t. It’s me… it’s me. You won’t hurt me, you won’t, you love me. I love you, you can’t…”
He’d stopped moving. When, you weren’t sure.
Shutting yourself up, you held your breath and opened your eyes, looking down at him. Back still curved, eyes still golden, teeth pointed, he stared at you through his lashes, laying over your belly, watching you. You didn’t dare to say more, nor did you think to move. His glare had softened, his breathing evened out, the shift was incomplete physically, still somewhat man, but the way his eyes darted back and forth between yours, to your lips, back to your eyes…
He’d gone feral mentally.
And he moved with the pace and strength of an animal.
Letting go of your arms, he grabbed the waist of your sweats and pulled, ripping them to shreds and throwing them to the floor. Holding your breath as he climbed onto the bed and crawled over you, two sizes too big, you laid flat on the mattress, eyes wide as he grabbed the collar of your hoodie and pulled, lifting you with it, ripping the cotton off your body like he was shredding mere paper.
Letting you flop back on your comforter, he crawled a little higher, his thighs straddling your shoulders. Reaching between his legs, he hooked his hands under your arms and pulled you up to your pillows, his thighs now caging yours to the bed. Like a ragdoll he moved you, you were certain he could move mountains in this state.
Quiet sounds left him, ones mixing with the power of your breaths with each of his movements, his purrs curious, and satisfied thus far with himself. Wrapping a hand around your throat, he didn’t press, but he tipped your chin upward, meeting your eyes with a small smile, sitting on top of you tall, too big, intimidating.
You wanted him to crush you.
If everything else got bigger…
“You wanted to get fucked,” he grumbled, tilting your head side to side. “Naked under all that?”
A quiet whine slipped from your throat, making him wince. “I-I was home for the night, I didn’t…”
He pushed your chin back further with the back of his hand, his fingertips pressing to the sides, dizzying your head further. “I don’t wanna hear it. You were aroused when I showed up,” he growled, dropping down on top of you, his lips ghosting yours, “Were you gonna touch yourself tonight?”
Trying to breath, your airflow restricted, gazing up into his golden glow, you whined, and nodded.
He smirked. “You do almost every night, don’t you?” Dipping his tongue out, he licked the seam of your lips, huffing as you nodded again, trembling under his grasp. “I know you do,” he whispered, and your eyes went wide, your brows flipping over. “So cute,” he grumbled, fingers squeezing your neck. “You forget I can smell you, when you’re horny, when you’re ovulating, when you’re bleeding, when you’re desperate for someone to take care of you, don’t think I don’t know what you think about when you’re making yourself cum on your fingers.”
Writhing beneath him, you whispered, “You.”
Chris grinned, dimples blessing his cheeks, canines pressing into his lips. “Acting all innocent when you meet me in the morning like you weren’t imagining me on top of you while you were three knuckles deep the night before.” He nodded behind you. “Moaning my name into these pillows? Huh?” He smirked and drug his tongue over your jaw. “Can’t let the neighbors hear you, yeah?”
“Chris, I-”
He didn’t let you finish. Straightening his brow, he released your neck and reached between his legs for your hips, pulling you out from under him. Sitting on his knees, he scooped his hands under yours and pushed you backward before he gripped your thighs and lifted you onto him. Gripping the sheets, nearly shouting his name, you looked up at him from the pillows and whimpered. He had you bent in half with your feet locked behind his neck over his wide shoulders and his head between your legs, holding you up with his body.
Fingers pressing into the curve of your thigh, the dip of your hips, the round of your ass, he fluttered his eyes shut and took a long breath, an inhale of pleasure and a warm exhale of power over your slick, your body shaking in his hold.
Tightening around nothing, a plea, a beg for him to give you something, you pushed your head backward, grabbed fistfuls of sheets, screwed your eyes shut and shouted, barely recognizing yourself, “Chris, please, give it to me!”
You’re met with gold for but a second before his tongue dips into you and your eyes roll back, your toes curling.
Finally.
Whining as his warm muscle drug through your arousal, you gasped as he clamped you down to his chest and abused your clit. Tongue swirling, flicking, teasing, lips smacking, pulling, sucking, teeth nudging, never hurting– he moaned into you, golden eyes admiring you falling apart at his mercy, his cock growing harder with every cry of his name. Plunging his tongue into your entrance, he took one thumb to your clit and pressed, and twisted, and pressed again, tongue fucking you, every smack, every squelch, disgusting… It brought you closer. You’ve never been sprung so close to orgasm so fast, ever.
Sappy sweet wrapped around you, warped your mind, furthered the ecstasy pulsing through you, the heat searing through and out of your body. Chris, nothing but Chris, you couldn’t think of anything else, the world washed away with the rain pelting your windows, you couldn’t hear any of it, the wind, the howls outside, all that was left– Chris, his whimpers of pleasure, his thrusts against your back, his cock, heavy and full of cum that you needed inside of you…
His to use, his to fill, his to breed.
You were his. The gold in his eyes spoke to you, telling you exactly that. You were his. You’d never need anyone else ever again, he was yours.
Thrashing against him, impetuous wails filling the air, wracking the walls, this wasn’t supposed to feel this good. You could stay here forever, bent upward, pinned to his chest while his tongue made love to your pussy and his cock speared you in the back.
“Don’t stop,” you gasped, reaching to grab onto his thighs, your nails digging into his muscle. “Chris, god, please, don’t stop, M’gonna cum!”
Circling your hips, grinding on his tongue, he growled and your body went still. Blinking up at him, he wrapped both arms around your thighs and pulled you tighter to him, baring his teeth, eyes pointed. Tongue pressing to your clit, he leaned over you, pushing you into the mattress as he furthered his assault, working faster, quicker, moaning louder, listening to you, and then, one of his hands dropped to your throat.
Fingers squeezing the sides, you went silent, lips parting, a breath caught in your lungs. Going dizzy, every thought fuzzy, the only whispered mantra falling from your lips Chris, chris, chris… Hips pressing up against him, vision searing white, you arched off of his chest and cried. Thighs closing him in, you shook violently, and he kept going.
Reaching up for him, fingers tangling in his hair, you tried to push him off, but the glare he shot down to you sent you retreating. Trembling, your entire body vibrating, the sounds that came out of you were pathetic, embarrassing, you couldn’t take it, it was too much, he needed to stop, your walls were tightening, your second orgasm stared you in the face, and he needed to get inside of you.
You said it all out loud, a mess of words strung together in some form of incoherent babbles that made him snicker.
“You don’t even know what you want,” he grumbled, holding onto your thighs as he moved backward and dropped you down to the mattress. He reached behind him for the collar of his shirt and pulled it off of himself, his hair a mess on top of his head. Crawling backward on top of the pillows, you pulled your knees into your chest and watched him, your bottom lip lodging between your teeth.
Shaking, aftershocks like waves washing through you, you tried to take deep breaths.
For what, you weren’t sure.
Chris unfasted his pants and pushed them down his hips, tight boxers escaping as well, his thick, long, eager cock springing up, tempting you. Lips parting, you ogled his leaking tip and licked at the corners of your mouth. Heart thundering, your breathing shallow, you gulped and looked up at him, smug as ever.
Tongue dragging over his bottom teeth, pressing to his cheek, he lowered his chin. “Come here.” His golden eyes had gone dark, burning deeper, persuading you utterly submissive. With a meek shake of your head, the size of him intimidating, he narrowed his eyes and growled. “Gonna make me say it fucking twice,” he raised his voice, lunging for one of your ankles, dragging you in front of him quick with a yelp, “I said, come here.”
Palms pressing to your thighs, he spread you open and laid over you, his lips locking with yours, the taste of you still on his tongue. Moaning into his mouth as he pressed his tip to your entrance, the sheer difference in size making you both shudder, you threw your arms around his neck and closed your eyes.
“Tiny thing,” he muttered in shared air, dropping his head to peer between your bodies. Nudging your hole, he bared his teeth with a snarl feeling you close up. Taking his lips to your ear, he kissed your lobe and whispered, “Relax.” Holding onto him tighter, you could only whimper. Brushing his lips across your cheek to kiss you slowly, he hummed against your lips and whispered, “Let me in.”
“Chris.”
“Shhh,” he soothed, touching his nose to yours, “Look at me,” and when you listened, he smiled, and the gold calmed you.
A blanket of comfort.
Warmth.
Chris.
A gentle waft of the earth after it rained passed through the air. Your legs spread backward as you gazed up at him, lifting your chin to give him a kiss, taking an involuntary long deep breath as your eyes fluttered shut and a pressure grew between your legs. His head dropped to your shoulder with an erotic whimper, and as the smell of rain dissipated and the facade of the gold broke apart, you clamped yourself around him and cried out.
He had sunken into you entirely, the stretch so unbearable it felt good. Big, bigger than anything you’ve ever had, bigger than what you were even expecting, god, you couldn’t breath, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t do anything but try to breathe, but even then, he thrust into you and knocked it right out of your lungs.
He was splitting you right in two.
And with how he writhed and grunted against your neck, he wasn’t giving you any time to attempt to adjust.
Pistoling into you, drinking up every string of moans that flew from your lips, he wore a pinched brow, his teeth clenched, his pink lips curling. Pressing his forehead to your cheek, to your neck, to your chest, he nuzzled his head against you, his hair, his chin, and when he wasn’t spreading his scent, he was dragging his tongue over your neck, over your lips.
His own pathetic grunts washed over you, the look in his eye not a lick conscious, not a care in the world for how he gripped onto you so tight that his fingerprints were branded into your skin, or for where his teeth went and how hard they dug into your shoulder, or for the press of his nails, in your hips, your belly, your thighs, your ankles…
The bed creaked, moving faster with each thrust, he folded you backward, clawing at the mattress beside your head. Golden eyes glowing brighter, his hips snapped and snapped, the sound of your skin smacking almost as loud as your wails, your cries for more, your cries for him.
He invaded every sense, took over every little signal in your brain, became the one and only thing you needed, the one and only thing you wanted–
“Cum inside me,” you choked out, dragging your nails over the expanse of his back, not doing nearly as much damage as he’d done to you. He growled into your neck, thrusting even faster, so you cried out, voice broken, disgustingly desperate, “I need it, Chris, I’m so empty, wanna be full of you, fuck it into me, breed me, baby, please!”
He roared, pushing into you to the hilt, folding you in half, his legs stretching behind him. Pulsing into you, he moaned so loud the walls shook, and you felt it.
You felt it.
You never can feel it.
You’re not supposed to.
That’s not something that happens, you don’t feel it.
He pumped you full, and you felt it, and he kept cumming, twitching inside of you, soft, weak whimpers hiding in the back of his throat. A sticky warmth he spurted up into you, your belly growing hot, a buzzing within you, calming you. Your body shook, and you tightened around him.
Laid on top of you, a sweaty, panting mess, Chris stirred, propping himself up on his elbows, his head laid in your neck. Groaning with a lazy thrust of his hips, he lifted his head, and you sighed.
He was still hard.
His eyes were still gold.
His teeth were still pointed.
He released a breath and whined. “M’sorry.”
Before you could get out a word, he moved in a flash, pushing himself off you, grabbing onto your waist, flipping you over face down without slipping out of you. Holding onto your hips, he pushed one hand to your back and arched you into the mattress, letting his hand slide down further to grab onto your hair, yanking your head back.
Without warning, he picked up where he left off, quick, short snaps of his hips, harder and harder. “Thought you’d get away with one,” he grumbled, splaying his palm across your asscheek with a slap before he dug his nails into your skin. Laughing as you yelped, keeping you in place with a tug on your hair, he shook his head. “Need at least three to get a bitch fucking pregnant.”
Squeezing him tight, eyes rolling backward, his words spurred you on, your second orgasm impending, seconds from snapping.
“Look at what you’ve fucking done to me,” he groaned. The bed frame wracked against the wall. “You’re nothing but a hole to fuck, a womb to fill, walking around like you have no fucking idea what I have to go through every fucking month, did you know that?”
Through babbled moans, you managed, “No.”
He bent himself in half, his lips brushing your ear, his cock curving up into you. “Better fucking learn. A pretty fucking face with a tight fucking pussy, fuck. How pretty you’ll be full me? This one’ll stick, yeah? You want that?”
Tongue pressing to your bottom lip, entirely fucked out and dumb, you moaned out, “I want it.”
His teeth grazed your neck, his voice spiraled you straight over the edge. “Then take my fucking cum.” Arching back into him, your head pressing to his neck, body writhing, splaying out on the mattress, you cried out his name and he smiled. “Good fucking girl,” he growled with feral thrusts of his hips, pressing hot kisses to your shoulders, “Baby likes getting fucked dumb, huh?”
“Yes,” you whispered, breathless, limbs unable to hold yourself up anymore.
Chris took his arms under you and lifted you up, laying you over his chest, the way he fucked into you– immpossible. Sliding one hand down your middle, he toyed with your clit and snickered as you thrashed. “More,” he moaned, sliding his tongue over your neck, “You’re so fucking wet, I want more, make a mess.”
The sheets under you were ruined. Leaking around him, his cock, his hips, covered. Your thighs, adorned by the mix he fucked you full of… Any more and you’d have to rid of the mattress.
The twist of his fingers and the snap of his hips pushed you over again, for the third time, a silent scream forcing its way out of you, all control you had on your body entirely lost. Limp in his arms, he praised you and laid you down headfirst, his bodyweight on top of you. Clinging to you, desperate grunts in your ear, he thrust into you twice and pushed. Like he wanted to split you in half, spurting into you, warmth filling you, everything going fuzzy.
He kept cumming.
He couldn’t stop.
Pressing chaste kisses to your cheek, to your shoulder, to your back, he shook, and he kept cumming. Whimpers of your name fell from his lips, a sweet song keeping you somewhat grounded, but then you were moved, and you were under him again, and he had you flipped wrong ways down on the bed, and he tried to kiss you, and his teeth were digging into your shoulder, and he pinned your wrists above your head, and he brought you to orgasm again, one that hit you like you’d been plunged under water, drowning in ecstasy, and he wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t stop, and you made him cum again, your belly so bloated, so full, so good for him…
“...back to me, baby,” you heard him whisper.
Blinking, still in the darkness of your bedroom, you swallowed, or tried to, your throat like sandpaper. Sitting up, every muscle in your body groaned, and a pair of warm hands wrapped around you, pulling you back into their lap.
“Lay down,” he whispered, lips pressing to your temple.
Turning your chin, blinking away the blur in your eyes, you looked up at him and his soft smile and felt your throat tighten. “Chris,” you whispered.
“Hi,” he breathed, smoothing his hands down your arms, over your thighs. He had dressed you, you were in new sweats and a big tee. He’d thrown on a grey pair he kept over here in a random drawer. “You feel okay?” His brown eyes were laced with worry, his brows pulled into the center of his forehead.
No teeth.
No impossibly wide shoulders.
No golden glow.
Just Chris.
Sliding a hand over your belly, you lowered your brows and mumbled, “I feel…”
He sighed, dropping his head, his forehead on yours. “I know.”
His pointless shame made you smile. “How many times did you…”
“Five,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
A laugh caught on your lips. Gazing up at him, you scoffed, and he twisted his brow, confused.
“What?”
“Five times,” you laughed, “I thought I was fertile, it took five times!?”
Chris rocked backward, gasping, half a laugh escaping him. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”
Laying a hand to his bare chest and his beating heart, his body heat enough to make you sweat, you took a deep breath. “Guess not,” you giggled. Silence wrapped around the two of you for a moment, your gazes saying everything that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. Breaking the quiet, you smiled. “You love me.”
He rolled his eyes and tipped his chin back, dragging his tongue over his teeth before it pushed into his cheek. “Yeah, well, you love me, so what are we gonna do about it?”
Blushing, you took your hand to his cheek and gave his dimple a pinch. “What are we gonna do about what we just did?” He took a breath and nodded, grabbing a hold of your hand, giving your wrist a gentle kiss where marks from his nails were evident. “We can’t have a baby right now, Chris.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “You have more of that tea your aunt gave you?”
“In the kitchen cabinet next to the stove,” you whispered. “That’ll fix it?” With a simple nod he moved out from under you. Rolling onto your side, your body unhappy, you watched him start for the door. “How do you know that?”
He licked his lips and shrugged, the quietest, “Minho,” coming out of him.
You wheezed, falling into hysterics, and he cowered with a grin. “You bastards!”
He hurried out of your bedroom with a shout. “I love you!”
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