#bang chan fanfiction
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bodyguard: the first guard | part three | chan/reader
masterlist.
(part one of the previous story.)
part one | part two | part three | tba
( read on AO3 )
A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh’s daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.
pairing: bang chan/reader
content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. the previously established story dyanmics: explicit violence, mentions of torture. mentions of past sexual abuse, detailed descriptions of needles.
chapter word count: 12,525 words.
-
B E F O R E
“Happy fourteenth birthday.”
Felix looks up from his work. He underperformed in training today and landed himself a punishment. His good record spared him anything too painful, but he has been assigned cleaning duty. Taking apart, cleaning, and reassembling weapons is not difficult work – he could do it in his sleep – but it is tedious.
Tedium is its own kind of torture, especially these days with his mind in a state of tumult. He has grown closer to Chris with each passing day. Felix knows they are not meant to think of each other as friends, just fellow soldiers, but that is the word Felix uses.
My friend.
That is who stands over Felix now. Chris is smiling and holding something wrapped in what looks like a kitchen napkin. Felix blinks at it, then furrows his brow.
“Huh?” Felix says. “It’s not my birthday.”
“Could be!” Chris says.
Felix supposes Chris has a point. Felix does not actually know his own birthday because he bounced around foster care before he found himself in Miroh’s program. If his birthday was recorded anywhere, no one told him what it was. So it could be his birthday. The odds are not great but not impossible.
“Um,” Felix says, because no one has ever wished him a happy – or happy possible – birthday. He guesses the best reply is, “Thanks?”
“It’s not a trick, man,” Chris says, smiling. He laughs at Felix, though it doesn’t feel cruel, and ruffles his hair before shoving the little wrapped item at him. “Here,” Chris says. “Got it especially for you.”
Felix unfolds the napkin and finds a cookie. It’s not the kind of food that is served at the regiment because their diet is so strict. Food is a sustenance and not a pleasure.
“Wow,” Felix says. It is a genuine surprise. Chris had to go out of his way to get this.
Felix feels embarrassed. He still struggles to cope with feeling in general. He almost yearns for a simpler, more naïve time, when he didn’t have to think or feel, just trust and follow. Now he is a flustered knot of embarrassment because Chris is giving him presents just because Felix mentioned he had never received one. It was an off-handed remark a few days ago, that he didn’t know his birthday and had never received a present but that it didn’t matter because he didn’t deserve it.
And he didn’t, he doesn’t, deserve any of it. Not a birthday wish or a thoughtful gift or Chris’s friendship. Felix has so much blood on his hands and he doesn’t how much of it is innocent. He never counted his kills like some other agents, stupid kids bragging to seem bigger and more powerful than their circumstances. Felix never did it for glory. He knew his place. Now he doesn’t count them because it doesn’t matter. It all comes back to him when he closes his eyes. He remembers what they were wearing, what they said before they died, the things they begged to a naïve, indifferent child.
He doesn’t count them because he doesn’t need a number to know it’s too much and he will never be able to take it back. He doesn’t deserve birthdays and friendships and Chris. He never will.
He doesn’t say this out loud. He knows Chris will argue with him, belligerent in his kindness and reassurance. Felix won’t listen in turn. The conversation would be useless. Rather than bother, Felix asks, “Where did you get it?”
“Hey, I know I’m trouble,” Chris says, still smiling, “but I got connections too, you know?”
Felix guesses he means Miroh’s daughter as she is the only agent with outside connections. They seem to have a tenuous understanding because she and Chris get in the most trouble. Chris, because he still bristles at commands and steps out of line. Her, because she’s Miroh’s daughter and held to a higher standard than the rest of them.
Chris can befriend almost anyone, garnering admiration in his peers if nothing else. His rebellious streak means no one wants visible association with him, but in the quietest of corners there is a whispered respect for the First Guard. He is as notorious as he is skilled and he has a natural leadership.
Felix supposes it is not outside the realm of possibility that even Miroh’s daughter would consider Chris a friend – but only somewhere even quieter than most.
Felix does not consider Miroh’s daughter a friend and he doubts he ever will. Her proximity to Miroh makes her an even bigger liability than Chris. Felix would never get close to someone like that, born into their position and too close to power for his liking.
“Miroh’s daughter, you mean,” Felix says.
Felix might keep his musings close to his heart, but that doesn’t mean Chris can’t read them anyway. Chris is a soldier by instinct if not choice. He is always one step ahead. It’s like he is inside Felix’s head. He seems to know what Felix will do before Felix does.
“Yeah,” Chris says. He rubs the back of his neck, breathing deeply. He looks almost sheepish, as if admitting he knows better. “She’s not that bad when you get to know her. Really.”
Felix is certain he looks unconvinced. It makes Chris laugh.
“You look worried,” Chris says.
“I do worry about you,” Felix says. He looks down at the cookie in his hand. It is hard to say out loud, but he manages a weak, “You’re my friend.”
Chris is suspiciously quiet. When Felix looks up, Chris has a determination to his countenance.
“Find me when you’re done here,” Chris says. “I wanna show you something.”
Felix, as usual, does as he is told. When his punishment ends, he tracks Chris to the barracks where the older boy is patiently waiting. He claps Felix on the shoulder but otherwise doesn’t stop to greet him. He is a little skittish as he leads Felix to their mysterious destination.
It is not so extraordinary in the end. Nothing around here is. Everything is cold chrome and sleek silver, one room much like the next, branded by Miroh as surely as its occupants.
Chris knocks out a ventilation panel then leads Felix to what looks like an unused crawl space, forgotten and collecting dust.
“Welcome to my office,” Chris jokes, still with that nervous laughter. It is putting Felix on edge.
“Is everything all right?” Felix asks.
“Well, no, Felix,” Chris says. “It isn’t. You know that now, don’t you?”
A couple years of shared assignments between the best and second best, the rebellious and the reluctant. A couple years of watching Miroh bludgeon his way through the world. A couple years of regret.
A couple years of friendship to change everything.
“Yeah,” Felix says. It is all he needs to say.
“Sit,” Chris says. There is a corner of the room that has been cleared of dust, this part of the hideaway evidently well-used. “Let’s talk.”
Whatever conversation Felix expects to have, it is not the one he gets. He sits and watches Chris, watches him breathe and measure his words. Chris is usually confident in what he has to say, even when staring down a barrel of a gun. This is more than disconcerting.
“I’ve been talking to some others in the program,” Chris says. “We’re all growing up. I’ll be eighteen soon. If we’re already strong, we’re just gonna get stronger. Miroh has complete control over us. I’m scared that if we don’t do something about it soon, then everything is going to get worse. A lot, lot worse.”
“Do something,” Felix says, his mind going a mile a minute. “What do you mean? Who else have you told about this?”
“People I consider friends,” Chris says. He puts a hand on Felix’s shoulder. “People like you, Felix.”
He thinks of the cookie in his pocket. His heart punches up with alarm.
“Miroh’s daughter?” Felix asks and this time he knows for certain his thoughts are very clear. He says her name – not even her name, her position, the daughter and heir of the very thing Chris wants to fight – and he says it with the obvious inflection of what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking?
“She’s a friend,” Chris says in a voice he usually reserves for an enemy. It startles Felix into silence. Seeing that, Chris smiles, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t have to trust her,” Chris says. “Just trust me. Felix, I want to get us out, all of us. I don’t want that man or any other man like him to hurt anyone else. Not kids, not adults, not anyone. I won’t put you in more danger, I swear. That’s the opposite of what I want. I’m gonna protect you, okay? I’m gonna protect all of you. When the time comes to take a stand, I just want you to be ready. If something happens, if it all goes wrong…”
Felix looks at him, alarm and worry plain on his young face. Chris squeezes his shoulder again.
“If…” Chris swallows then continues, “If it is all goes wrong, I’ll pay the price alone. But I’d rather die trying to save all of you than live another day hurting innocent people for Miroh.”
“Chris—” Felix starts, an argument on his tongue.
“Don’t,” Chris says firmly. “If there was anything worth dying for, Felix, then it’s this. I’m gonna get you out. I’m gonna get you all out. I swear. Just be ready for when I say. Just trust me. Just be my friend.”
Felix spends a week after that in a state of restless turmoil. He sleeps poorly and fights worse and even spends a night in the Cell for his mistakes.
He doesn’t know what to think about Chris and his intentions. It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But if it worked…
It wouldn’t take the blood off Felix’s hands, but it would be a start to something better. Felix has little thought for his own fate, undeserving as he is, but he thinks about Chris. Chris, the First Guard, who has been here the longest, who has watched the most people die, who has been punished the worst.
Chris deserves better.
Felix believes in Chris. He believes if Chris made an effort, then he would have what it takes to make a difference. Felix knows Chris is capable. He could do what he sets out to do.
It is not Chris that Felix worries about.
Felix observes Miroh’s daughter, studying her more closely than ever before. Felix trusts Chris’s general discretion but he worries Chris has a blind spot concerning her. They are the only two in their age category and they share a small barrack, the forced proximity undoubtedly creating a semblance of intimacy. Chris might trust her but Felix is not so biased. All he sees is Miroh.
Felix watches her. She doesn’t spend much time with Chris in public, her only close relationship with Seo Changbin. They are a bit notorious together. Felix would not call them the best fighters but they are tricky. He is pretty sure they throw their fights with each other and embellish more than necessary. Both like a good skull crash, more brutal than efficient. The trickery and brutality makes Felix more wary of her.
At the same time, her obvious friendship with Changbin shows she can care about someone else. The pair throw a mean punch but always patch each other up after.
Chris catches Felix watching them. They are having a go in the ring, punching and flipping, grinning when they think no one is watching. They have smiles just for each other.
“You look really deep in thought, mate,” Chris says, laughing. He hands Felix a water bottle while toweling down his own sweaty neck.
“Huh?” Felix finally breaks his concentration. He takes the water and smiles one of his instinctive but fake smiles – the kind he uses on a mission, when he is trying to convince an adversary that he is an innocent, unassuming kid.
Chris sees through it, of course. He lifts an eyebrow at Felix then follows his line of sight to the ring.
“What?” Chris says, laughing again. His own ears turn a little red as he teases, “You got a crush on her or something?”
“Ew, shut up,” Felix says, throwing his own towel at him. He feels flushed despite the fact it is vehemently untrue. He is not used to being provoked with that line of teasing. “No,” he says certainly. “I have no feelings for anyone. But I think they might.”
“Huh?” Chris looks between Felix and the ring. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, look at them,” Felix says. “They’re a little too close, don’t you think?”
Presently, Miroh’s daughter has Changbin pinned to the mat. She is on top of him and whispering something that makes them both snicker.
Chris stares at them. After a beat of contemplative silence, he laughs. Felix recognizes the fake sound, the same disarming humour Felix uses when conning someone.
“Yeah,” Chris says. “Hey, I’ll be right back, yeah?”
Felix watches Chris amble over. He says something to the duo and Changbin retaliates with some non-descript shouting and flailing. Miroh’s daughter rolls her eyes. She grabs Chris by the collar and yanks him into a fight.
The rest of the day progresses without much fuss or bother. Miroh has no jobs for them today so the schedule is just training and recuperation.
Felix manages to avoid punishment today. He tries expelling his anxiety in a fight but it does not fully work. Felix has come to realize he is not very good at letting go. Belief, emotion, the good, the bad: all of gets clutched in his fists and held to his heart.
Fighting tires him but it is not a satisfying tired, of exerted muscles and a pumping heart. He feels weary and everything everywhere is so loud, the chrome and steel of the Miroh facilities like an echoing dome. It cycles all that noise in an agonizing reverberation. It feels inescapable. He goes to the barracks which are smaller but it makes the claustrophobia worse.
Laying in his bunk, rubbing his temples, Felix dreams of a quiet room of his own.
It is then he remembers Chris’s hideaway. Chris miraculously dodged punishment today so he retreated to the barracks a while ago. Felix doesn’t want to disturb him but he figures Chris won’t mind him using the hideaway on his own if he’s careful.
They are permitted access to the training room for the few hours between work and mandatory repose. The hideaway is en route so it is easy for Felix to stealthily retrace his steps without raising suspicion. He disappears in the security blind spot the way Chris showed him.
Felix is in the tunnel when he hears a noise. He worries he was followed despite being so careful, but then he realizes the noise is ahead of him, not behind him.
He freezes in the crawl tunnel, trying to discern the sound. It doesn’t sound like talking, more like… breathing? Heavy breathing.
Then he hears a laugh that he recognizes as Chris. And he is not alone. The other noise is a sigh, a lighter, more feminine sound.
Oh.
Apparently, Chris’s hideaway is not just for talking to friends. The sound of kissing and sighing is more friendly than his conversation with Felix, that’s for sure.
Felix is frozen for a minute, too stunned and embarrassed to think of moving. He has to shuffle backwards to escape because he can’t turn in that part of the crawl space. If this was a mission, he could do it, but this is personal. He doesn’t want to get caught but it’s not because it will compromise any job; it’s because it will be awkward.
He scuffs his shoe in his backwards shuffle. It clangs, a subtle sound, but one that makes him wince.
It goes quiet around the corner. Felix knows he was heard and there is no time to escape. Seconds later, a frantic looking Chris is in the tunnel, red-faced with a line of sweat on his brow. His uniform is clearly dishevelled and Felix gets even more embarrassed.
Those feelings need somewhere to go. It comes out of him in a burst of frustration.
“What are you doing?” Felix demands, his voice breaking.
“Nothing!” Chris says, clearly a knee-jerk reaction. Then he takes a breath and says, “Look, I can explain—”
“It’s not Miroh’s daughter,” Felix says. He can’t even pose it as a question because he refuses to believe Chris could genuinely be that reckless and stupid. Befriending her is one thing – a stupid thing – but fooling around with the daughter of the powerful man who owns them is begging for tragedy.
“I’m not stupid,” Chris says.
“It doesn’t matter,” Felix says. “Whoever it is, you need to stop.”
“Look—”
“Seriously, Chris!”
“Felix—”
“It’s not worth it!”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Chris snaps. “You’re not normal and you don’t understand what it means to care about someone like that.”
It is obviously thoughtless, blurted in the head of the moment. It hurts anyway. Felix wonders if Chris can see the pain on his face because Chris looks immediately remorseful.
“Look, I didn’t mean it like that—” Chris starts.
“It’s fine,” Felix says. “You’re right.”
“Felix—”
Felix pushes backwards and leaves without waiting for any protest. He does not stop, marching all the way back to this bunk. Anger and embarrassment have finally dissipated by the time he returns. It has been replaced with determination.
Chris is the best, but he has been compromised whether he wants to acknowledge it or not. He feels too much, for everyone and everything, and it will get him in even more trouble than he is already in. if he retaliates with thoughtless provocation when it’s just Felix confronting him, then what will he do when it’s Miroh and the stakes are even higher?
Chris said he would protect them all. He swore to succeed at any cost, including his own life. There is no one swearing the same for him. No one has ever protected him.
Felix is the second best. He has never left a job unfinished and for that he is not deserving of the protection Chris is offering.
It won’t clean the blood on his hands, but if Felix can save a life worth more than his own, then maybe it will start to justify all of this, all of him.
Chris was right. Felix is not normal. But he was wrong say that Felix doesn’t know what it means to care about someone. Because of Chris, Felix knows how to care. He knows what he has to do.
Chris can try and save them all.
Felix is going to save Chris.
-
P R E S E N T D A Y
Miroh’s main facility has fallen.
It sounds so dramatic for something so anticlimactic, like you are describing the collapse of a kingdom and not the shutdown of his main office operation.
It feels like an apocalyptic demise.
You and Chan fight your way out of the building, taking on the people who fight in your name. Your father’s name. Miroh.
Miroh is dead. Irrefutably broken, little more than a heap of meat on the tarmac. With him gone and the only named heir on the run – you – this facility will shut down to maintain security.
Miroh ran a meticulously compartmentalized business. There is protocol for everything so even if one part of his operation fell, the rest could continue unimpeded. Miroh tried to establish a legacy that could rival old money like his enemy, going so far as to predict his own demise. Miroh has long braced for the eventuality of his end, so he made sure his business could fracture and run without him.
He did everything in his power to make you just like him, a little broken fracture of himself to ensure that legacy. But then he could not actually face what he created. He could not actually let go. He was the only one with the perspective and power and he had to keep it that way.
Miroh would not have accounted for your rebellion, not for the sake of someone else. For a friend.
Flashes of the last twenty four hours play in your mind. You can hardly pinpoint the change in yourself. It feels like this was somehow inevitable, despite how much you would have balked at the idea before. But now it is all that matters. It’s all that makes sense in this chaos.
You have to find your friend. This facility will be empty in a matter of hours, but there are others. Changbin is in one of them. You have no idea where to start.
One thing at a time, you tell yourself. Before you can ruminate on anything behind or in front of you, you need to fight. You do not have time for introspection or planning. You need to get away. Away from this place, away from your dead father.
Away from his soldier, the First Guard, Bang Chan, who for some reason is helping you escape.
You don’t know why. You seriously doubt your barely coherent pleading broke the conditioning and literal torture that made him into this thing.
You don’t have time to find out. At the first opportunity, you break away, leaving him with a handful of operatives to fight. It should keep them all occupied while you escape.
You do not want to risk trapping yourself in an enclosed space, so you do not venture to the parking garage where the company vehicles are stored. Some of them will be programmed and bugged. You feel bad targeting a civilian, but stealing one of their cars is the safest bet. There are some administrative employees who complete menial tasks for the company, those with next to no clearance level. They park their personal cars around the facility. You pick one that is easy to reconfigure without a key to boot.
Minutes later, you are driving for an exit. Your whole body is aching but you push through it. There will be time to recuperate when you are in the clear.
Sirens wail and alarms blare, every security measure in action. Your escape is certainly not a clean one but it doesn’t matter. You just need to get away.
If you can get off the facility grounds, you can lose any adversaries in the back country roads. The route to the facility was intentionally designed to be a convoluted labyrinth, making it difficult for enemies to approach without giving the facility ample preparation time. You know the paths better than anyone. You can get away.
A soldier marches right into the middle of your escape path.
It is too brazen for a regular agent. They would not be so stupid to try that, knowing you would just barrel into them.
You speed closer and recognize the First Guard. Chan is unflinching as ever, standing in the middle of the road as if he intends to stop your car with his body. He is strong but not that strong. You know that. But he looks like an inhuman phantom, looming there in his combat gear and mask, unphased and unharmed despite the hour of nonstop violence.
But that’s not the reason you stop. You think about him in that van. You could only see his eyes but they were expressive, the tilt of his head inquisitive.
You slam on the brakes. The car stops inches from his body but he doesn’t even blink.
Your heart is racing, breath bursting in gasps. He strolls around the car as if he was just waiting for his ride.
Soldiering instinct propels your hands. You draw a gun as he opens the passenger-side door. He bends down and looks at you, his brow quirked with a silent question. Your hand shakes and he is too good not to notice. You know that, but a regular person would never guess because he does not take his eyes off yours.
He disarms you, faster than a blink. He drops into the passenger seat, then slams the door and shoves the gun in its storage compartment.
You stare at him. Your gaze follows the line of his stark profile. His hairline is a little sweaty but he doesn’t look out of breath.
You don’t know what to think.
This is the longest you have been in his company since you were kids in training. Your memory of him is insubstantial, having spent little to no time with him personally. But it hardly matters what he was. Now he’s a soldier above all soldiers, a shadow filling this small civilian car. He’s not the biggest man in the world but he’s overwhelming all the same, partially because of his uniform and partially because of his posture. He feels too big for this little human space. His knee hits the gear shift, his thighs bulky in the small seat, his shoulders broad where he leans back.
He looks across the car and meets your eyes. You think about how many people have met this gaze, maybe in a moment just like this, sitting across from Miroh’s asset in a little civilian vehicle before he put a bullet between their eyes or snapped their neck. You have seen the results of his missions even if you were not involved in them. The statistics and numbers speak for themselves. Those eyes have seen more death than life and right now they are resolutely focussed on you.
You jump when he lifts his hand. He says nothing but turns the rearview mirror in your direction. You reluctantly peel your gaze away from him. You see what he sees: a vehicle in rapid pursuit of your own.
“Shit,” you say. You shove the mirror back into place. Your hands collide for a split second.
You can’t linger on the weirdness of this moment, that the First Guard is your ally, sitting in the passenger seat and helping you escape.
You drive. The other vehicle chases you down. You get past the easy security measures, blowing past gates and guards. When you approach the last gate, Chan rolls down the window and twists his body. He pulls the stashed gun and aims somewhere. Your eyes are on the road so you don’t see exactly what he does, but the gate slams shut between you and the pursuing vehicle, trapping them on the other side.
Then it is just you, him, and the road.
He puts the gun away. He sits back. He rolls up the window. He makes it seem like a routine, still unphased while your heart pounds with adrenaline.
You do not look at him. You do not speak. You focus on escape, taking a convoluted path through the countryside just in case. When the facility is far, far behind you, you take a back road and pull into a shadowed space between some trees.
You slam to a stop, shift the gear to park, but keep the engine running. You clutch the steering so hard, you imagine it cracking beneath the force of your grip.
Chan still does not speak. The last time he spoke was on that rooftop. What now?
A damn good question.
You look at him. He is not sitting the way you would expect a machine of a man to be sitting. You would have thought the First Guard would sit straight-backed and braced for confrontation, but his slouch is almost insouciant. He sits with his knees apart, his body slanted where his elbow rests on the door. One gloved hand strums the door and the other is draped over his thigh. He looks at you without any expression you can interpret.
You are tired. Your body hurts. Your father is dead and the operation is changing and your only friend is suffering and you can’t do anything about any of it. This morning you held a modicum of control over your life – or you thought you did – and now everything has spiralled.
You know logically that Chan is a victim of Miroh, but right now it does not matter. He is an infuriating figure of composure, not to mention your father’s greatest weapon, and that combination snaps the elastic thread of your patience, already stretched to its limits.
“Take off the fucking mask,” you say.
He stares at you, his expression still unreadable. You are tempted to reach across and rip the mask off his face. You would definitely not succeed, no match for his reflexes on a good day, but logic is inconsequential in the face of your emotions.
He doesn’t test you. He stares for another moment then raises one gloved hand. He unhooks the mask and peels it off. He runs the other hand over his face and through his hair.
You are not sure what you were expecting. The same brown eyes stare back at you, lined with a smudged shadow to look as dark and intimidating as possible. His brows are thick and dark, his hair as black, sweat loosening the slick style so a single curly tuft falls over his forehead.
You follow the slope of his nose down to his mouth. His mouth is closed and he is not smiling. He has full lips, almost too pretty for what he is. Glancing at that mouth on that too-pretty face, you picture a dimple smiled. The memory is almost a blur, a smear of an image over his face. You blink and it’s gone, his stoic face staring back at you.
“What is it?” he says. His voice is like the rest of him, too big in this small space. You swear it shakes the car and the earth under it, though that is ridiculous. It’s just a voice. He’s just a man.
Except he’s not. He’s something else, something that should not have done what he did. You have a million questions. You need those answers before you can continue but it all jumbles together in your head. It’s all too much, the flashes of today, of the past, of an uncertain future full of even more violence.
You finally turn off the engine and get out of the car. You have no intention of going anywhere, but you need space.
You pace in a long line, breathing in and out, using every trick in the book to ease your racing heart. After a minute, you hear the passenger door open. You look over your shoulder at Chan.
You can’t help the instinctive reaction to measure him like an adversary. It doesn’t help he has pummelled you twice in the last few months, not to mention his horrid reputation in an already horrid place. It would be stupid not to brace yourself.
He approaches you cautiously. He has the gall to raise a hand like you are the wild thing and he is the tamer.
“Easy,” he says. His voice is not so booming out here. Other than the dark combat uniform, he almost looks normal, his whole face open to you, eyes narrowed with intense focus.
It makes you breathe harder, the exhale shaky. He notices because he tries to placate you.
He smiles.
It is forced and unpracticed, but there are those dimples, just like you thought. You would have been less startled if he bared his teeth like an animal. The smile unnerves you, undoing all the calming work of your exercises.
“It’s all right,” he says in a frighteningly gentle voice. He tilts his head as he looks at you. “It’s just me, yeah?”
Just him. Like that should comfort you. You suppose you can marginally see things from his perspective, that maybe he has proved himself. After all, he helped you escape. It is obvious he is not doing this for your father or he would not have let you kill him. This is not part of a grand plan. There is no strategy. It’s all over.
It’s just you and him.
It does not comfort you the way he evidently thinks it should. Now is the time to ask those million questions, but you are beyond words. You are a live wire and that pitiful attempt at a truce ignites a flare of angry sparks.
You were built to fight. It punches out of you. Literally.
Chan is faster than you. He dodges your swing with ease, fast as an electric current himself.
“Hey now,” he says, holding out both hands. “Don’t—”
You know you can’t win this fight. You know it’s stupid to try. But each swing flies out of you, instinctive as breathing. He catches every blow, bats your hands out of the way, but he doesn’t swing back. His refusal to fight infuriates you. It makes you feel as helpless as you are.
An aggravated cry spills out of you, a strain behind your eyes as you take another swing.
“Stop it,” he snaps, his smile gone.
He finally goes on the offense, catching your hands and pinning them down. There is a moment of struggle before you feel the driver door at your backside, his body caging you in. You rear up against him but he holds you down, hip to hip, hand to hand.
“I said stop it,” he says. “What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” you ask, voice breaking. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Your chest is pressed against his, moving with your breath while he stands like an ungiving wall. You glare at him and he stares back. His brow furrows in seeming confusion. He closes both eyes and breathes out, a steadying breath.
You thought seeing him lose composure would make you feel better, but you feel worse, more unnerved than before.
He looks at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering when he clenches it. You stare at it as he releases you.
“You must know I can’t trust you,” you say.
You make the mistake of lifting your hands to shove him away. You do not intend to punch him again, the worst of that aggression gone, but he doesn’t know that. You suppose you can’t blame him for his instincts after your demonstration.
When you lift your hands, he grabs your wrists. Swiftly and effortlessly, he pins your hands by your head.
“Oh,” he says. His eyebrows lift and his face is far more expressive than you expected. “I’m the one who can’t be trusted, right?”
“Excuse me?” you snap.
“I’m doing my job, yeah,” he says. “Yesterday you were running jobs for Daddy and today you shot him dead. Wanna talk about erratic behaviour? Wanna talk about who’s unpredictable? About who can trust who here?”
Your mouth parts with a useless, breathless rebuttal, stammering and empty. You didn’t expect that many words from him, not when he has been a silent shadow for so long. Never mind the easy, casual speech, every colloquialism and the taunting hurl of daddy. It makes you think of that scathing, troublesome boy he once was, as sharp with his tongue as everything else. But he is not that boy. You know for a fact he was broken. He has done all those jobs for Miroh without causing any strife in the operation. He is a weapon and nothing more. He exists to follow orders.
Until today. Until you.
“So?” you finally say, because what else can you say?
“So?” he repeats.
“So.” You have those million questions, but there is only one that really matters. “What are we? Soldiers without a general? Because right now it seems like we’re two people who have no reason to trust each other and no reason to work together.”
Your gazes are locked and you measure each other. Not that you are much of a threat to him. He has you pinned with very little effort. If you were at your fighting best, you like to think it would be a little challenge, but right now you stand no chance against him.
But he doesn’t want to hurt you or he would have done it already.
He drops your hands. He doesn’t step away, still regarding you with that scrutinous eye, but it is a menial demonstration of trust.
You drop your arms. You stare back at him, refusing to show the depth of your weakness. You think his body might be keeping yours upright, your legs so weak. You do everything in your power to keep your wild emotions in check, to keep the tears in the back of your eyes. You breathe deeply.
“I’ll help you find your friend,” Chan says, the last thing you expect him to say. You can only watch as he sighs and speaks. “You were my last mission,” he says. “Miroh told me to bring you in. I did. He wanted me to watch you. I am. He wanted me to be your—” He laughs but it is not a happy sound, dry and devoid of pleasure. “Your bodyguard, I guess.” He shakes his head. “Consider this me following orders,” he says. “That’s what I do, yeah? I follow orders. And I don’t leave a job unfinished. Ever.”
“And Miroh?” you say tentatively. “The fact I killed him?”
He shrugs dramatically, hands open in surrender.
“Miroh didn’t make me his bodyguard,” Chan says. “He made me yours.”
It is such preposterously simple logic that you laugh, a disbelieving bark of a sound. You look around at nothing, like the answer to your ridiculous circumstance is in the trees or the road.
When you look at Chan, he is still looking at you, his brow quirked inquisitively.
“Well?” he says. “Is that enough? Can we work together to finish this last job?”
“Your job,” you say slowly. You meet his eyes. “So that’s what I am to you?”
It’s meant to be an easy question with a reassuring answer. He is a soldier. You are his job. He will do what you ask. It’s as simple as that.
He tilts his head as he looks at you. His contemplation is too heavy. It was a simple question for a simple soldier who should speak no language outside of missions and reports.
His gaze is searing and it makes your heart skip a startled beat.
“Yes,” he says. He speaks the word like it’s exhausting to say out loud. It lands with a thud on an exhale. “My job.”
His forearm is planted by your head. His other hand grips your bicep. He is keeping you in place with his hips and thighs. You can feel the tension in his body.
You have no idea why you do what you do. It comes from the same place as those desperate punches. You know it’s useless, you know nothing will come of it, but you ride the propulsion of adrenaline. Your body, on the brink of desperation, has been pushed to its utmost capabilities in the last couple hours. What does it want? What do you want?
What did you ever really want?
You kiss him.
It shocks you both. Unlike the punch, he does not know how to retaliate. He stands there, breathing into your mouth. He is neither encouraging nor withdrawing.
You stop quickly and wipe your mouth. Mortification sets in.
None of this is like you. You blame stress. Your body is confused and hurt. You need recuperation. Whether you like it or not, you need comfort too. It is a deep internal call, only human. But you won’t be getting that from the solid, inhuman wall around you.
You push at that wall and it finally gives. Chan steps back. You doubt a punch would have moved him so easily as that kiss.
“Ignore that,” you say. “Adrenaline. I’m still – not right.”
He just stares, once more a silent shadow. You breathe out in a huff.
“Okay,” you say. “And we’re back to the staring. At least I know you’re still working.”
You turn to open the car door, effectively ending the tense exchange. Chan walks away. He silently circles the car to reach the passenger door. You look at his face, once more stoic and expressionless. He doesn’t look at you, dropping into the vehicle without another glance or sound.
You close your eyes. You take another deep breath of fresh air.
Maybe this is good. Maybe Chan is the ally you need right now. Someone level, someone only concerned with mission parameters. Someone who will not become compromised because of emotion.
Because you are very compromised.
You are not thinking clearly. You need a plan and some water and rest.
You get in the car. You start the engine. You don’t speak another word.
-
You drive for hours, wanting distance between you and the destruction.
The silence in the car is piercing, your head aching after the first hour. The little space acts like an echo chamber for your tumultuous thoughts. You keep replaying the day, every death and cry. You think about your security team strewn across those stairs, just another casualty in Miroh’s game. You think about your father, the unplanned murder but the utter lack of regret in your heart.
You think about Changbin. Your reckless side wants to look for him right now. You cannot stand to waste another second. Based on your father’s words, he could be anywhere, subject to any number of horrors. But despite the whirlwind tempest of your mind, there is a soldier inside you and she is more pragmatic. You are in no condition to fight. Even if you knew Changbin’s exact location, you would be no use to him. You need to rest, formulate a legitimate plan, then attack.
You can’t afford to make any mistakes. Better than anyone, you know the forces you are up against.
You pull into a highway fill-up station at dusk. The car needs fuel and so do you. There is a little shop near the fuel pumps, the place deserted other than the bored cashier behind the counter.
There was some cash in the glove box, enough for necessities. You will inevitably need to steal or manipulate, but you prefer to lay low tonight. You were careful to avoid traffic cameras and security tv as you exited the previous city. By the time the car is reported and Miroh’s operation works out your connection, you will be off the grid.
You turn off the engine and reach for the wallet. Chan snatches it first.
“What are you doing?” is spoken in unison.
“I’m going to buy us some fucking water and food,” you say.
“Are you? Really?” He gives you a pointed up-and-down look. “You gonna do that looking like you just played cannonball with a cement wall?”
You have not gotten a good look at yourself, just a flash in the rearview mirror, but he is probably right. You feel like utter shit so you must look it too.
“Well, you can’t go in there either,” you say. Even without the mask, he is clearly in an unusual uniform. A bored clerk will remember a terrifying soldier in combat clothes marching through his shop.
Chan flashes you a dimpled smile, frighteningly charming.
“Sure I can,” he says. “Just have to blend in.”
Your eyes widen as he discards both gloves then opens the neck of his shirt. You stare as he efficiently strips off his top layers.
If he looked powerful in the uniform, he looks as just as intimidating without it. He doesn’t boast gargantuan proportions but he doesn’t need it. There is lethal strength to the rolling musculature of his sturdy body.
You shouldn’t care. Soldiers strip all the time, long assignments and shared compartments making it an inevitability. But Chan is not just another soldier. In your head, he is that living shadow, covered all the way up to his eyes in the Miroh black and blue. Seeing all that skin is a startling reminder of the man under the mask.
You find Chan watching you, amused. That stupid eyebrow is quirked again.
“What?” you snap.
“Nothing,” he replies. “Be right back. Don’t miss me too bad.”
You roll your eyes, slumping in your seat as he gets out of the car. You have half a mind to drive away but you are pretty sure he would find a way to manifest at your destination anyway.
You watch as he enters the shop in a nonchalant stroll, wearing just his pants and boots. He waves at the cashier and says something that makes him laugh.
To his credit, Chan looks like a regular guy on a hot day, casually perusing a gas station shop. He makes small talk with the cashier and they laugh some more.
You knew Chan was a good soldier but you didn’t expect him to be such a good agent too. He is probably better at the civilian act than you. You are standoffish and opt for a quiet demeanour, blending in through invisibility rather than a persona.
Chan walks in and out, the cashier unaware of the nature of his customer. You return to the road with a full of tank of gas and some sustenance.
“Are you going to put your shirt back on?” you ask.
He gives you a side-eye as he shrugs the outermost layer back on. He doesn’t do it up. You refuse to act like a glimpse of his bare chest means anything to you.
Except it does. When he sits there with his knee against the console and his skin showing and a tuft of hair over his forehead, he looks like a person. He is a person, one who has been subject to some of the worst horrors of Miroh’s operation.
There is no denying Chan is a complicated figure, unwillingly complicit in atrocities. He acts like a normal person with a fully cognizant mind, but you just witnessed for yourself how easily he can fake that. You do not know how much of the real Bang Chan is actually inside him.
“Chan,” you say after a long time. The sun has almost fully set, the sky in its navy gloaming.
“Yeah?” he says.
There are no words that suffice. You could give an entire speech and it would be virtually meaningless.
“I’m sorry,” you say, leaving the breadth of the apology up to his interpretation. You keep your eyes on the endless miles of highway that stretch ahead. There is a long journey in front of you. There is a longer road behind you.
The car is illuminated with golden light from passing cars and overhead lamps. It flashes over his face in the deepening darkness.
“Don’t be,” Chan says. He crosses his arms in a protective position, looking out his window though there is nothing to see but the highway and passing cars. “None of this was your fault,” he says.
You laugh, a similar humourless sound to his earlier laughter.
“That’s not entirely true,” you say, thinking of all the missions you deliberately ran for Miroh. You thought you could make it mean something. You were just like your father, believing the ends would justify the means. You never tortured Chan yourself, but you were part of the operation that kept him in chains. There was nothing you could do to save him, but you certainly never tried.
He looks at you. You hear him move, the crinkle of his clothes, the water bottle he twists in his grip.
“I don’t blame you, you know,” he says. “Seriously. Today was crazy. Everything’s crazy. You’re not responsible for it.”
“I’m not not responsible,” you say. “My team is dead. My friend is gone. My dad – well, you can’t say I didn’t do that.”
“He had that one coming,” Chan says, his laugh a little more real. “No offense, but your dad kinda sucked.”
You find yourself laughing more genuinely too.
“Yeah,” you say. “I think we can agree on that.”
You fall into silence but it is more comfortable than before. There has been an undeniable tension since the moment he climbed in this car, looking at you with questioning confusion as you pointed a gun at him. You were panicking but he must have been equally bewildered. To him, you were a mission. He lives by his orders.
“I should apologize to you,” he says.
You look at him with obvious surprise. He meets your gaze, his expression sincere if not a little chagrined. His dimples show with a faint smile but it is not very happy.
“I’ve been an ass,” he says. “Today was – well.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Trust me,” you say. You try to lighten the mood with your tone. “I’m a Miroh. You will never have to apologize to me for as long as you live.”
He doesn’t laugh or even force that pretend sound. He stares ahead, his gaze sorrowful and faraway.
“Sorry, that was—” you begin.
He forces a smile and shakes his head.
“Nah,” he says. “Truce?”
Smiling feels awkward and your injuries probably make you a terrifying sight. But he accepts it, nodding at you. The car does not feel like such a claustrophobic space after that. The air is clear as it can be, considering who you are.
Neither of you has an identity right now. You were tethered to the same monstrosity and now it is gone. Everything is different.
You are too tired for another late-night heart-to-heart. It is time for rest.
-
There is enough cash for a cheap motel room. You find a quiet inn off the highway, sequestered beyond trees and countryside fields. You finally look at yourself properly in the bathroom mirror. You decide Chan’s earlier remarks were a severe understatement. You look like a battleground more than a soldier.
You injures will repair themselves with time, but it is a grisly sight. You shower for now. The soap and water helps.
You don the same shirt and underwear. New clothes will be a necessity. You mentally plan tomorrow, everything you will need to accrue before you formulate an attack. You have already mentally plotted the closest facilities, but you will need to verify their function and security protocol before striking.
You are mentally strategize as you exit the bathroom. You are distracted, thinking nothing of the fact you are wearing underwear and a shirt.
Chan already showered because you insisted, knowing you would take longer with your injuries. He is sitting on one of the single beds, sorting through his weapons. There is the gun you stole from Miroh plus his own array of armaments, things so well hidden you did not realize he even had them. They are laid out on the bed. He sits at the foot in his combat pants and nothing else, his dark hair damp and face bare.
You stroll past him, feeling his eyes as they lift from a gun to your bare legs. Now that you have scrubbed the worst of the brutality from your body, you feel like something of a person again. His flicker of attention ignites an undeniable spark in your belly. At first, it startles you, because the First Guard is the absolute last person you should ever think of like that.
But then you look at him. He has turned his eyes back to his work, saying nothing as he reloads the gun with second-nature efficiency. He is holding a weapon but, despite his conditioning, he is just a man.
You are a grounded person. You keep your head down and go about your tasks with confident certainty. He is here, you are here, it has been a long day, and it is not unusual for soldiers to seek comfort before the dawn of a new fight. Comfort is as important in healing and recuperation as anything else.
You sit on your own bed and look at him. He is effortlessly attractive with his dark hair and dark eyes, the sloping muscle of his firm body. You trace his chest and abdomen with your eyes. He does not lift his gaze, his attention on the gun.
“Do you want to fuck?” you ask.
Bang Chan is the best soldier in the force. You are pretty sure he has never fumbled a weapon quite so spectacularly. It clatters to the floor and he kicks it under your bed.
“What!” he says. He doesn’t look at you as he retrieves the gun, laughing a comically nervous giggle. “Um… what?” he asks again. Before you can answer, he shakes his head. “That’s uh, wait. Um. No. Bad idea, right? I mean—”
“It’s just a suggestion,” you say, not really offended. “It’s been a long day. It doesn’t mean anything. We’re both adults here.”
As you say it, you consider his circumstances. Chan has spent his entire life in the house of Miroh. He is not innocent but he might be inexperienced. This man has killed dozens of people and worked dozens of dangerous operations. His body is built for violence, not pleasure, and certainly not his own.
You find yourself blurting, “Have you ever…?”
“Yes,” he says firmly, brow furrowing with annoyance.
“All right, all right, just asking,” you say. You decide not to push the topic because it clearly makes him uncomfortable. You just cleared the air and you don’t want to muddy it again.
You change the topic swiftly. You make some empty remark about the weather as you turn on the small television. It’s an old contraption, buzzing with static as it flickers to life.
Chan resumes his work. He puts his head down to concentrate.
Your gaze inevitably strays to him.
His hair dries curly. It feels like an unusual thing to know about the First Guard. He looks so much younger with a clean face.
You jump when that face lifts. He looks at you.
“It wasn’t… you know…” There is a hunch to his shoulders, his eyes dropping to his work. “I just did it on missions, ya know?”
“Did it,” you say. “On missions.” It doesn’t register right away, partly because you are tired and partly because you did not expect him to continue this conversation. “You mean sex?” you ask. “You had sex on missions?”
“I had sex for missions,” he corrects, eyes on the weapon he is disassembling. He is acting like the conversation is meaningless, his attention divided, but you know his task does not require that degree of concentration. He could take that thing apart in perfect darkness.
“For missions,” you repeat. “What, like a honeypot type scheme? You?”
It seems ridiculous at first. You picture the First Guard smashing through windows and tackling you in stairwells. There is nothing seductive about that raw violence. But then you look at the man in front of you, young and handsome, the one who so easily charmed that cashier while pretending he was someone else. You picture him in a suit and tie, maybe a t-shirt and jeans. He would be devastating with the right preparation.
Chan is the best. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you he would excel regardless of the scheme.
“Something like that,” he says. He finally loads the magazine. “It wasn’t so bad, though. Seriously.” He twirls the gun with an effortless flourish. The grip finds his palm like the pistol is a part of him. “Trust me. My body was used for worse things. You get that too, yeah?”
You suppose you relate well enough. You were raised in the same program, put through the same grueling regimen. You have done things and you are not proud of them all. Your circumstances are not the same, though. You are each uniquely situated in your positions, even if you started in the same place.
We’re all that’s left.
Changbin’s voice in your head causes your mind to drift.
“What about you?” Chan asks, drawing you back to the conversation.
“Me?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “You.”
The First Guard is asking you about your sex life. You woke this morning in a safe house and put on combat gear, ready for another mundane day of field work. Somewhere in the middle of that was a cascade of violence. Now Bang Chan is asking about your sexual proclivities. If you weren’t so exhausted, you would laugh.
“I mean, nothing special,” you say, sufficing for the boring truth. “Mostly just this. Sex doesn’t really mean anything to me. It’s like exercise. Long nights on a job. You know. Fellow soldiers on a mission. Sometimes a civilian hook-up.”
You can’t parse the expression on his face. His gaze is somewhat judgemental, or maybe it is just scrutinizing, intensely focussed. It bristles your nerves. Your tone is more derisive when you say, “I’m not a romantic.” You hold his intense stare in your own. “Sex is just a bodily function to me. Sometimes the body needs the release or the pleasure or whatever, so I satisfy it and move on. That’s who I am. I work. I get the job done. That’s what I have always done.”
What you always did. You are not sure how to describe yourself anymore. You nonetheless punctuate that definitive statement. You assume that is the end of the conversation.
Then Chan asks, “So there’s… no one… for you?”
If he was any other soldier, you would think he was angling for flirtation, but he just turned down your very blatant offer. You do not know why he has any motivation to ask such personal and irrelevant questions.
It is not worth the argument. You conclude with a simple, “No.”
He nods, rocking his whole body with the force of his too-casual gesture. The tips of his ears are red, though your gaze does not stay there. You are quickly distracted by his bicep. He lifts an arm to rub the back of his neck, muscles softly rippling. His brazen questioning coupled with his awkward shyness is incongruous.
You think it is unlikely you will ever understand this man. He has been taken apart and put back together too many times. Fragments of him seem to fire all at once and in great contradiction.
“What about Changbin?” he asks. “He must be pretty special to you. Ya know, for you to have done all this for him.”
You are simultaneously struck by repulsion and sentiment. Changbin is very special and you regret not realizing it sooner. He has always been at your side, taking hits to protect you well before he became your bodyguard. He is the person who kept you smiling. You understood each other on a different level. His friendship was a rare gift and you took it for granted. Now you would do anything to have it back.
But also…
It’s Changbin. Ew. You are an only child but you feel a brotherly affection for him. Picturing him in any other context is nauseating. It just feels wrong.
You have such a visceral reaction of disgust that Chan laughs. He puts up his hands as if in surrender.
“Sorry, sorry, my bad,” he says. “Just friends, then?”
“Yes,” you say. “Though there’s nothing just about it.”
You have replayed that rooftop exchange a hundred times, torturing yourself with every possible outcome. If only you did this, if only he did that. You rearrange every second, trying to find a version with a different ending.
You wonder how he will react when he finds out what you did. Aha, murder princess living up to her name! he might say. The old man should have seen it coming. I knew you could it, but of course I did. I’m so much smarter and better looking than everyone else here.
You smile at the idea but it fades quickly.
Changbin was with you last night. He was sitting within arm’s reach, his scar under your fingertips. Now he could be anywhere and it’s all your fault. Not just because of the rooftop mistakes, but because of every mistake you made before that.
You exhale. Your shoulders shake. Chan watches you close a fist around a pillow.
“You all right?” he asks.
“I’m ending it,” you say.
“Sorry, what?”
“I always thought Miroh was an inevitability.” You are speaking out loud but mostly to yourself. Your gaze is fixed on some distant point, your mind and heart miles away. “But he wasn’t,” you say. “No more soldiers. No more experiments. No more bribes and theft and terror. My father is dead and I am going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I am going to make sure his work dies with him.”
You look at Chan. A day ago, you both existed for Miroh. Now you are two people planning to dismantle an empire from a motel room and a stolen car.
“Do you have a problem with that?” you ask.
A part of you is braced for the worst, that he will reject it, that he will revert to some kind of conditioned programming and drag you back to a facility for condemnation.
Even while you think it, you know it won’t happen. The eyes staring back at you are as clear as your own.
“I’m just the bodyguard,” Chan says. “I go wherever you go. Always.”
You feel invigorated to start now, but you are tired beneath the burst of adrenaline. You need to let your body heal.
The room is dark and you doze in the light of the television. After a couple hours, you roll over and find Chan is still awake. He is laying on his bed, arms crossed and eyes open. He is watching the shopping channel, ad after ad after ad, with far more intensity than it merits. His mind must be somewhere else. You can only imagine what he is thinking about.
You wonder how much he knows about himself. He responded to your half-coherent treasonous pleading. Does he remember hating Miroh? Or is he truly only helping you because of mission parameters?
It is easy to forget when he is a bare-faced, curly-haired young man slouching in a motel bed, but Bang Chan is lethally competent. He knew all of Miroh’s innermost schemes. It will come in handy now, but it makes him an irrevocably dark character, whether it was willing or not.
You wonder how much Changbin would trust him.
Wait.
You were so distracted with your plans, you did not question a moment in your conversation.
Chan mentioned Changbin.
You never told Chan the identity of your friend. When you were pleading with him, you just called him a friend.
Maybe Chan heard you talking to your father. Maybe he knows about your relationships because that was his job. Maybe he just guessed because Changbin volunteered himself in the ring.
Maybe Bang Chan remembers more than he is letting on.
-
You fall asleep to the soft drone of the television. Your mind is walking in circles and you dream of similar rings. Nightmares of chrome cages and steel traps, a suffocating helplessness squeezing your ribcage.
In your dreams, the room fills with smoke, a charcoal smog that chokes you as quickly as the compression on your chest. You look down but you can’t see your body, only feel it. Your invisible body struggles against invisible bindings. You gasp for breath.
Your father appears. It is him holding you down, a heavy hand in the middle of your chest. You cry out. You want to move but your body is trapped.
You close your eyes. When you open them, Changbin is there. He is still a teenager. His head is bleeding – why is his head bleeding? – but he wipes the blood as if it’s nothing more than sweat, all his focus on you.
Of course it is. He’s your friend. He’s here to save you. How did you not see it before? It’s like you have been moving through the world in a fog, the same grey smoke that envelopes you now. His face is the only clear image, gawky with youth but alive and real.
The weight is lifted off your chest. Black spots swarm your vision as you suck in a lungful of air.
When you look again, Changbin is grown. He looks like he did a day ago, dark bangs in his eyes, stocky build ready for a fight.
“I’m not leaving here without you.”
Not leaving here.
Not leaving here.
Not leaving here.
His voices dances around you. You are trapped in your body, a screaming, shrieking force, watching through dead eyes as the world spins. People pass but they don’t hear you. You try to reach for someone but your body doesn’t respond to your thoughts.
A labyrinthine stretch of road unfurls then disappears. You are standing in the infirmary at the main facility. You stare at yourself, the younger version of you. You are already dead behind the eyes, resigned to your situation. There are masked doctors around you. A tray full of needles. You watch as the long point penetrates your skin. You’re just a child, arm so small in comparison.
Your child face contorts with pain, an expression your adult face cannot mimic because you cannot control your face.
You remember the pain, even if you cannot cry. It was like nothing you had ever felt. The pain meant it was working. The medicant was only administered to you when it had been thoroughly tested. The first injection killed every subject except one. The second program was a success.
The children were writhing in pain for weeks, screaming and crying, begging for parents that never came. Yours did, looming over your bedside, touching your feverish forehead and speaking through the fog of pain.
An investment, Miroh called it. You’ll thank me one day.
Changbin is there. He is a child too. They put a needle in his skinny arm. He winces but he doesn’t cry. He isn’t scared of the needles or the pain, but he isn’t eager either. He is just there, his head down.
You blink and he is grown. The needle is still in his arm, only it is not an injection but an extraction. You watch the fullness of his face wither. They are taking too much. He becomes a child again, screaming in pain.
The same pain moves inside you.
No, worse.
Worse.
You never could have imagined a worse pain. It courses through your whole body, peeling apart your insides while you lay there, helpless, watching.
Your father stands over you. You’ll thank me one day.
He disappears. For a flickering moment, you see Bang Chan. Curly-haired, dimpled cheeks. He stutters and shakes like a bad film projection. His face contorts, changes. Wide dark eyes stare at you, his face covered in rain – water – tears? Pouring down his cheeks, mouth open and a mute cry in the grey.
You want to touch him but you cannot move. His face flickers again. You feel a tiny, infinitesimal twitch in your pinky.
Then he disappears altogether. Your father is there. He grabs you by the shoulders and slams you down, straight through the earth, holding you there in the darkness where no one can find you and you cannot move.
“Hey—” comes a voice, somehow reaching you in the depths of that pit. “Hey, hey, hey, wake up.”
In your dream, your father shoves you.
In reality, you are thrashing in a motel bed.
It takes a minute to realize you are awake, that everything was just a terrible dream. Your adrenaline is a white hot heat in your chest, your voice a strangled shriek as you clamour around the twisting sheets.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Chan says. “You’re just dreaming, whoa, easy, c’mon… It’s all good. Easy now. Breathe for me, okay?”
It feels like your first breath in years. It goes down shaky, your vision blurry. You realize Chan is holding your wrist, lightly but carefully. You blink up at him. He turned on the bedside light at some point. Half his face is lit in gold as he looks at you with concern. It is such a strange expression to see on him. These were the same eyes glaring at you over that uniform mask. Now that brow is pinched with worry, his own breath a staggered thing.
“You all right?” he asks.
You are sitting upright. You look at your wrist in his hand.
“Did I try to punch you again?” you ask.
“You missed,” he says, smiling. Then he shakes his head and says more seriously, “It was my fault. You were yelling in your sleep so I woke you up. I guess it was too fast or something. Just, you know, I don’t think the walls are very thick here.”
“Right,” you say. Your heart is still stampeding. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he says. “You… you good…?”
“Yeah,” you say. You are too weary for patience, so sarcasm spills out of you. “Peachy.”
He opens his mouth but you don’t wait to hear it. You slide out of bed and land on shaky legs. Your whole body is covered in a sheen of sweat. You want to shower, wash away the nightmare and the terror.
You are a light sleeper. You never dream like that. It is a testament to your exhaustion that you fell into such a deep sleep.
You tell yourself it was a dream, but your reassurances don’t work. Because it wasn’t really a dream, was it? It was flashes of real moments, real faces, real pain.
You stand under steady stream of hot water. You watch as the heat and the torrent opens a few scrapes, the water at your feet turning red. You think of Changbin with a needle in his arm, all that red pouring out of him. Standing there, helpless to do anything, like you are right now.
You have no idea where he is. You look at the scar on your palm and think of him in the moonlight, him in the ring, him at your side. A smile, a joke, a reassurance. A hand in yours, a promise.
He knew you better than you know yourself. He predicted this exact crisis of identity.
When it’s just you and you’re trying to decide who you want to be, not who your father wants you to be… When you’re trying to remember everything and you can’t decide what was real and what was just training and what was Miroh…
He drew that line across his palm. You picture a chasm of a wound, gaping and red, rushing red at your feet.
Just remember me, he said. I didn’t bleed because I believe in Miroh. I’m your soldier, not his.
True to his word, a man of principle to the end, he is bleeding for you right now.
In all your years of training, fighting, and soldiership, of missions and schemes, tricks and plots, you have always kept composure. Now it all weighs on you at once, every single second of your life, and it’s too much.
When was the last time you cried? You can’t even remember. It pours out of you now, big ugly gasping sobs that spill into the shower. You sit down where the water is pooling in pink. You wrap your arms around your legs and draw them up to your chest like a child.
You do not know how long you sit there, crying until it feels like there is no more water left in your body. It must be a long time because the water runs from hot to lukewarm. It feels strange to heave dry sobs with the shower still pouring down on you.
The water abruptly stops. You lift your head.
Chan stands there. He doesn’t look at you directly, his expression solemn, but he turns off the water and gets you a towel.
It feels surreal. Bang Chan is moving around a small motel bathroom, helping you like he has helped you all day. You stare at him with scrunched, sore eyes, your throat too strained to speak. You drop your legs and let him wrap the towel around you. Your heart kicks with momentary fright when he scoops you up, an effortless sweep.
No one has ever done something like this for you. You wouldn’t have let them, even if they tried.
You need it. You never realized how much you needed it. You are certain you will feel embarrassed in the morning, but right now you put your arms around his neck and cling for dear life.
He says nothing. He hooks an arm around your back and the other under your legs. He carries you back into the room and lays you in your bed, adjusting the towel for your modesty before pulling the blankets over you.
You continue to sputter and hiccup, looking at him as he moves. You wonder if he looks like this on a mission, determined and swift.
No. The First Guard wouldn’t fix the pillows under your head. He wouldn’t tuck the blankets around you.
Bang Chan stands over you, wearing nothing but his combat pants, no weapons or masks or piercing stares. He has curly dark hair and a soft face. When you touch his bare shoulder, he looks at you with a heart-shattering amount of tenderness. You didn’t know anyone could look at somebody that way, never mind him, never mind at you.
There’s a person inside him. There’s a person inside you. You don’t know who either of those people are, but you want to know. You need to know.
You curl your hand into a fist and feel the scar on your palm. A day ago, none of this would have mattered, but you know why it matters now.
“We have to find him,” you say. Your rasping voice is barely above a whisper.
Chan slowly cups his hand over yours, his palm to your knuckles, holding your touch against his shoulder. He squeezes your fingers. He nods.
“We will,” he says.
“You’ll help me?” you say.
“Yeah.” His own voice is a rasp, skirting the edge of emotion too. He swallows it down and smiles at you. “Like I said. I go wherever you go. Always.”
He sits with you in the soft golden light of that small bedside lamp. You do not think you can sleep again, but then exhaustion settles over you.
You are on the cusp of sleep when he touches your forehead. Your eyes meet briefly. It wakes you with a heart flutter, similar to a dream that drops you into reality. It is the heart-racing thump of a sudden fall. The kind that feels so real, more like a memory than a dream.
#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#bang chan x you#chan x you#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x you#stray kids x you#bang chan fanfiction#stray kids fanfiction#skz fanfiction
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➔ character select | back to main menu
🔞 many of these works contain sexual content (18+ mdni) 🔞
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➥ 4.6k; For Seungmin’s birthday, Chris decided to give him a gift he’s never considered giving to anyone else: a night with his own girlfriend, Y/N.
»» Creature Feature '23: More Than Just Friends ♧
➥ 7.4k; Chris is a werewolf. His best friend is well aware of this. But what she doesn’t know is that during his heat, he often pictures pinning her down and breeding her. When she comes back home the day before his cycle is due to start, Chris finds it hard to not give into his urges when he smells she’s ovulating.
— timestamps
»» [02:41] ♧
➥ 566; you & your boyfriend were supposed to drive out to look at the stars.
»» [01:08] ♧
➥ 1.8k; your boyfriend really doesn't like it when his friends pay attention to you nor does he like it when you playfully flirt with them.
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𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! - stepdad!bang chan x fem!reader
wc: 10.2k
cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.
synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?
a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
You hated going home for the holidays.
You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.
Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.
Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her.
Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.
“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”
“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed.
“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”
You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.
Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore.
There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”
Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”
His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.
“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”
“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness.
“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”
“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.
“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.”
Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.
“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.
“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”
“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.
“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”
“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”
Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”
“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”
Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”
“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”
“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”
You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”
Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.
SATURDAY
It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.
The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”
“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”
“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”
You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”
It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”
He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.
“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”
“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”
“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”
Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?
You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.
“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.
“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”
Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”
“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.
“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”
You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.
SUNDAY
Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had.
“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.
Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.
“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.
“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”
“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth.
Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”
“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth.
“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival.
You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch.
“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.
“Am I?”
“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”
You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”
Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively.
“It doesn’t bother me.”
You left your hand there for the whole film.
MONDAY
The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.
At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right.
Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you.
It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.
Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-
You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday.
Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.
You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.
“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”
“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”
Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”
Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”
Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?
He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”
“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”
You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.
Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now.
In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again.
TUESDAY
You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.
Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation.
The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?
“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”
There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”
You grinned. You were.
“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”
Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.
“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”
“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”
“Minho-”
“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”
“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”
The ball has always been in your court.
“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.
It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.
You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.
You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.
WEDNESDAY
Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.
Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect.
Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-
A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.
Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”
You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”
You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?
“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”
You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
“This is ridiculous-”
“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”
“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.”
Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you.
“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”
You paused. “What?”
“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker.
You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.
You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.
Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”
Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly.
“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made.
“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”
“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”
“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”
You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.
“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”
“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”
“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”
God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully.
“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”
“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”
“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”
“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”
“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”
You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation.
Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need.
“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”
“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”
“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?
“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.”
“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw.
Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened.
Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.
What the fuck just happened?
THURSDAY
You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.
Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.
Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.
Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.
You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.
Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too.
All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure.
The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message.
“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.
Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”
“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”
He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.
“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”
Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”
He nodded. “I do.”
You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top.
You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.
“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.”
He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.
Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.
“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”
“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”
“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”
He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.
“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,” Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”
“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”
Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”
With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.
“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”
You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.
“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”
“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.
“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”
"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.
“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”
His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.
You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.
“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.
“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”
You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you.
You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you.
“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”
Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.
You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”
You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you.
He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.
“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”
He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again.
“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.
“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"
“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex.
You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you.
“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”
“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”
“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”
“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”
White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted.
“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”
You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die.
“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”
With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable.
“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”
You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 ; 𝐛𝐜
𝐭𝐰: female anatomy ; virgin!chan ; experienced!reader ; minsung if you squint (sorry nari my girl) ; mention of male masturbation ; dirty talk ; corruption kink kinda ; dry humping ; cumming in pants ; mention of a handjob ; nipple play ; mentions of porn and chan admitting he watches it ; clit play ; oral (m receiving) ; cum eating ; chan is self conscious and thinks too much ; confessions ; phone sex (video call sex technically) ; masturbation (both m and f) ; oral (f receiving) ; protected sex ; aftercare kinda ; they’re so beautifully in love and my heart hurts ; ♡
𝐰𝐜: 15k
inspired by this ask, it’s part of the same au.
🏷️: @bookobsessedfreak , @brojustfknkillm3 , @notevenheretbh1
𝐚/𝐧: this was supposed to be a 3-4k words drabble…… :) a huge thank you to @jilixthinker for beta reading this and for her feedback and support ♡
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 18+, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢
ᥫ᭡
Chan is spiralling.
His hands are fidgety, and just can’t stop bouncing his leg, which is pissing his friends, especially Minho, off. None of his other friends are really paying attention to him, though. They’re all minding their business - Jisung and Felix are playing some dumb videogame on the tv as per usual, and Seungmin is sulking on the couch because, well, he’s the one who lost first and now he’s gotta wait for his turn again.
And Chan… well, Chan is kind of panicking right now.
“Dude, stop, really. It’s annoying,” Minho rolls his eyes, slapping Chan’s thigh to get his friend to stop bouncing his leg relentlessly.
“‘M sorry, dude, ‘m just anxious I guess.”
Minho stays awfully quiet, which kind of upsets Chan, who furrows his eyebrows confused, staring at his younger friend.
“What?” Minho asks, eventually lifting his gaze from his phone and staring back at Chan.
“You’re not gonna ask me why I’m anxious?”
Minho shrugs, his gaze drops back on his phone screen. “Eh. You’re gonna tell me anyway, aren’t you?”
Chan tilts his head to the side, confused. Minho is a good friend, and Chan trusts him. Maybe talking about it with Minho will help Chan, who knows. The older feels suddenly much more nervous at the thought of voicing his insecurities out loud, but at the same time he knows he needs it.
“I have a date tomorrow.”
Minho frowns. “With that Y/N girl, right?” Minho asks, he knows his friend has been seeing you for a couple of months now. Chan nods. “Okay, and? Is that why you’re nervous? You’ve seen her before.”
That’s the problem, actually, Chan thinks.
“She, uh… she doesn’t know,” Chan mumbles, toying with the black ring on his pointer finger, elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the floor.
“Doesn’t know what?” Minho hates that he practically has to force the words out of Chan’s mouth.
“That I’m, uh, a… that I’m inexperienced,” Chan blurts out.
“Ah, that you’re a virgin, you mean,” Minho paraphrases, his voice is incredibly loud and Chan cringes, because that word, virgin, makes him feel like a complete loser. Deep down, he knows he’s not a loser just because he still hasn’t gotten his dick wet at the venerable age of twenty-six, but at the same time he does feel a bit self-conscious about it.
Seungmin’s head snaps in Chan’s direction, and Changbin’s does the same. Even Jisung and Felix stop focusing on the videogame for a good couple of seconds.
“Yes, uh… that,” Chan clears his throat. “I haven’t told her yet.”
Minho’s eyebrows lift in surprise, his mouth falls open as he lifts his head to look at Chan. “Oh. Why?”
“I don’t know! I wouldn’t want her to think any less of me, I guess,” he sighs, slumping on the couch, feeling absolutely hopeless.
“Why would she think less of you?” Changbin butts in, significantly confused.
“Because I’m twenty-six and I still haven’t had sex?” He asked, mentally adding a duh?, as if the answer was the most obvious ever.
“But she likes you,” Minho comments, “I don’t think she’ll care about it, if she’s anything like you described her.”
And Chan knows Minho’s probably right, but can’t help but feel insecure about it nonetheless. He just doesn’t want to give you a series of disappointing sexual experiences, or embarrass himself in front of you if you’ll ever decide to sleep with him. Not that he’s expecting you to - he’s just thinking of possibilities and eventualities right now.
He’s not even thinking anymore, he’s overthinking.
“I know, I know. But the internet is full of girls disappointed inside the bedroom, I wouldn’t want her to experience the same thing with me.”
“You haven’t had sex, like, ever. It’s not like you’d disappoint her intentionally, Chan,” Changbin points out.
“So you’re saying I would disappoint her.”
“No, Changbin is saying you shouldn’t stress over this. Nobody’s first time is earth-shattering or life-changing,” Minho rolls his eyes.
“How do you know? You haven’t had sex either,” Chan tuts, crossing his arms over his chest, kind of offended.
“Incorrect,” Minho argues, lifting his pointer finger matter-of-factly. “I haven’t had sex with a girl yet. I’ve had plenty of sex with boys.”
“Boys? Plural?” Jisung’s head snaps in the older’s direction so fast he almost breaks his neck, quirking an eyebrow at Minho. “And what do you mean yet?”
“Fine,” Minho grumbles, “I’ve had plenty of sex with a boy.”
“You didn’t answer my question - what do you mean yet?” Jisung insists.
“Jisung, please. We’re trying to help Chan here, not everything’s about you,” Minho sighs. “Anyways, where were we?”
Chan blinks, gaze snapping from Minho to Jisung and then back on Minho. Surprisingly enough, though, none of the other boys seems surprised. “I, uh… I’ll ignore your unexpected and casual coming out for now, and the whole… best-friends-who-are-apparently-fucking thing,” he clears his throat, “you were… reassuring me, I think. Nobody’s first time is perfect and blah, blah, blah.”
“Ah, yeah. Don’t stress over it, dude. Just try not to cum as soon as you put it in,” Minho shrugs. “Oh, and don’t forget the condom. Be responsible, dude. You know how to put it on, rig-“
“Okay, okay! Enough!” Chan shouts, embarrassed, as he blushes of a deep shade of red until even his ears look like they’re on fire, waving his hands in front of Minho to get him to stop talking.
ᥫ᭡
Chan feels like an idiot, and if his friends were here now they’d totally make fun of him. No, no, scratch that, they wouldn’t let him live this down ever again.
For starters, he spent an indecent amount of time on his phone, online, looking for the best brands of condoms, describing in specific details how his dick looks so that the search bar at one point read “which condoms for 5” length 2,5” width penis” and yes - he literally measured it. He visited dozens of different websites ad clicked on countless of links, desperately looking for the best condoms he could find. Eventually, he bought two different boxes online, and cringed reaaaaally bad when the delivery guy smirked at him and gave him the thumbs up.
And now he’s in his bed. The bedroom door is locked - he’s made sure of that, with his sweats pulled down his legs together with his underwear - free, hard cock resting peacefully on his abdomen. Chan feels incredibly stupid, holding two different kinds of condoms between his fingers, trying to figure out which one he should try on first. When he takes another glance at his dick, another question pops up in his head - should he shave? Usually, he just trims his pubic hair from time to time when he’s in the shower, but maybe you’d like him fully bare? Guys in porn usually shave their cocks, so maybe that’s what girls prefer - he truly has no idea, and he’s not gonna ask his friends for advice, it’s already embarrassing enough. Why is he even thinking about all this? He was just supposed to practice how to put on a stupid condom!
“Okay, okay, I can do it. It’s easy. It’s supposed to be easy, I mean, everybody does this, it can’t be that complicated. Well, not everyone, otherwise you wouldn’t have all these unplanned pregnancies, but -“ he cuts himself off, realizing he was rambling too much already.
Chan is kinda ashamed to admit that yes, he even watched a tutorial to figure out how to do this properly, so he’s fully prepared and knows exactly what he’s supposed to do. He tears the wrapper open, careful not to tear the rubber, and then pulls it out, cursing under his breath when it slips from his fingers due to its slipperiness. He picks it up again, and places it on the tip of his dick, pinching the tip as he rolls it onto his length easily. It feels… weird. Not bad weird, just… weird, but at least it’s easy, just like that article online read, and he’s sure he’ll have no trouble in doing this if you’ll ever sleep together.
Sometimes, Chan can’t help but wonder what it feels like - to have sex. Being so close, so intimate with someone, literally being inside of someone. When he thinks about it, it’s you the someone he imagines as he strokes his cock, mostly late at night, when his roommate Changbin’s asleep. He’d lie in his bed, legs spread, fully naked.
Chan’s been jerking off a lot lately, two times per day at least. He’d grab his cock, squeezing it by the base, whimpering at the feeling of his balls kind of tightening. And then he’d start stroking himself again and again and again until his eyes roll in the back of his head and he cums with a choked sound, biting on his lower lip until he can almost taste blood.
Then, he usually showers and changes his clothes, and feels kinda embarrassed about what he did, ignoring the fact that it’s completely normal to fantasize about someone. He still feels guilty nonetheless, completely unaware that you, in the privacy of your own bedroom, do the exact same every other night - pleasuring yourself to the thought of him.
ᥫ᭡
The night of your date Bang Chan learns two things. The first is that ‘Netflix and chill’ doesn’t actually mean, you know, Netflix and chill. It means sex, apparently, and everyone knows except him. The second one is - he’s absolutely whipped for you already.
He’d been nervous the whole day, trying on four or five different outfits and eventually asking Changbin for advice, and he’d sprayed on so much cologne he had to literally open the bedroom windows in order not to get intoxicated. He spent an indecent amount of time under the shower, washing his hair two or three times just in case - you’d once told him you loved the scent of his shampoo.
When he saw you, the anxiety suddenly kind of… left his body. All the nervousness he’d been feeling suddenly vanished, and his entire body and brain was filled with excitement and happiness and all kinds of positive, good feelings. You greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and he never wanted to let go.
And then, when he drove you back to your place, things got kind of… hot, and he wasn’t expecting it at all because he thought that the expression you used, Netflix and Chill, actually meant “watching a good movie and cuddle on the couch” - but it didn’t. It didn’t, because as soon as you both lay on the couch, you started making out like two horny teenagers unable to keep their hands for themselves.
Which led to… now.
His lips are on yours, have been for the past ten minutes. The movie’s still playing, but neither of you are paying any attention. You’re both red in the face, your lips are swollen and wet and tingling, but neither of you has ever felt this good. You like Chan. You like him very much, and you want to take things to the next level - maybe not all the way, not tonight at least.
You’re still kissing Chan, tiny little hmphs leaving his mouth, when you wrap your hand around his wrist and bring his hand on your thigh. And then you move it up, up, up, until… Chan’s breath hitches as his thumb brushes your clothed groin. You take the lead, unbuttoning your jeans, and then, wrapping your hand around his wrist once more, you bring his hand to the front of your panties, and he freezes. He literally stops moving, he stops kissing you and you can clearly hear the sound of his heartbeat pumping loud in his chest.
“Do you… want to?” You pull back to whisper on his lips. Chan’s arms and hands start to tremble. He blinks rapidly, and the next thing he does, stupidly, is shaking his head as a no. Could he be more stupid? “Oh… I’m… I’m sorry,” you mumble, letting go of his hand, finding yourself pretty stupid all of a sudden.
“No! No, I… I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, you have nothing to be sorry about,” Chan is quick to say, placing his hand on your thigh when you try to pull away after unbuttoning your jeans. “It’s just… there’s something I have to tell you.”
You’re expecting the worst - maybe he’s tired of you and wants to break up.
“Uh-oh,” you crack a nervous smile, fidgeting with your fingernails and your cuticles as you wait for him to speak.
“No, no, it’s nothing bad, I promise. Well, it depends on you, actually… if you think it’s bad, then…” he rambles, toying with the bracelet wrapped around his wrist as he speaks.
“Chan, relax. Just tell me.” He mumbles something so quietly you have no idea what he just said. “What?”
“I’ve… never done this before,” he blushes until the redness reaches the tip of his ears as he reveals the big secret he’s been keeping for weeks, “I’ve never done anything… sexual, actually.”
You’re beyond shocked because, well - he’s sexy. Girls probably throw themselves at him, how is it possible that he’s never fingered a girl before? It kind of turns you on even more, though. He’s so hot and so caring and such a gentleman and he’s… a virgin. And you’re dating him. It shouldn’t turn you on, right? You feel kind of a perv right now.
While you’re getting lost in your train of thought, Chan is panicking because, well, you haven’t really said anything since he confessed his secret to you. “I’m sorry, I- I probably shouldn’t have said anything, it was stupid-“
“No!” You exclaim, interrupting him. “No, Chan, it’s okay. I promise, you just… surprised me. It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with it, of course. I’m sorry if I pressured you into anything.”
“You didn’t,” Chan reassures you, caressing your thigh with his thumb. “You didn’t, I promise. I was just caught off guard, I wasn’t expecting anything to happen tonight.”
You nod. “I know, I know, it was sudden. It’s just… it may sound weird, but I really like your outfit. You’re, like, super hot and I got a little carried away I guess.”
Chan is flustered, and he scratches the back of his neck as he lowers his gaze shyly. “Uh… thank you. You’re really beautiful, too, you know? I was left… speechless when I saw you tonight. You’re stunning,” he bites his lip, looking at you, and then his face drops. “I-I mean, not only tonight. You’re always stunning, I just mea-“
You cut him off by placing your lips on his in a tender kiss, and he relaxes under your touch. “You’re cute, you know that?” You smile, kissing him some more. “Are you okay with us kissing?”
“I’m more than okay with kissing you. It’s just… I don’t think I’m ready for the whole thing yet, but we can… do other stuff if you want.”
“Are you sure?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he nods. “Other stuff like…?”
He’s impossibly red in the face by now. “Ah, like… maybe we could, uh, touch each other? O-Over the clothes.”
You smile at him. “I know I already told you, but… you’re so cute. C’mere.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to your body, kissing his lips again and again. In a matter of seconds, you find yourself laying on your back, sprawled on your couch, with Chan’s body between your legs - you both gasp at the feeling of his erection pressed on your body.
“Can I… can I kiss your neck?” Chan politely asks, and you can’t help but bite your lip, nodding at him. He latches his lips on your neck with a confidence he never showed before, leaving open mouthed kisses all over your skin.
You wrap your fingers around his wrist once more, and catch him by surprise when you place the palm of his hand on your boob, over the fabric of your t-shirt. Chan whimpers, involuntarily jerking his hips, forcing his hard-on on your clit. Throwing your head back in pleasure, you beg him to do it again. He does it again, and his own eyes flutter shut because it feels so damn good, even though his pants are definitely too tight for this.
“You feel so good, oh my God,” you mumble, running your fingers up and down his spine, arching your back and rolling your hips to meet his once again and Chan has to stop you. Like, seriously, he has to stop you otherwise he’d cum in his pants and fucking embarrass himself.
He’s about to tell you when you unexpectedly move your hand to the front of his jeans, sliding it right in the middle of your bodies, and you cup him and squeeze him - and Chan fucking cums. He cums in his pants.
“Oh my- fuck. Fuck, fuck, it’s not happening,” he mumbles, hiding his face in your neck in pure shame. “It’s not happening, it’s not happening,” he repeats again and again and you’re confused.
“Chan, what-“ and then you feel it - a warm feeling on your hand, his cock starting to soften. “Oh.” Chan wishes the ground would swallow him whole. “It’s okay, Chan. It’s fine, really.”
“No, it’s not. It’s not. Fuck, I’m so fucking embarrassed,” he mumbles, getting up from the couch, looking down in horror just to find a large, wet patch on his blue jeans. He never wears blue jeans, for fuck’s sake - he always wears black skinny jeans, and the one time he decides to wear blue jeans he fucking cums in his pants after you’ve touched him for literally two seconds. “Oh my God.” He covers the front of his pants with his hand, mortified. “I… I have to leave. I’m so sorry.”
Chan leaves in a rush, excusing himself a million times even though you told him it’s completely fine, that you’re not weirded out by it or anything. He leaves even if you begged him not to, face red and pouting. He leaves, but the thought haunts him - he keeps relieving the scene in his head throughout the whole drive back home. He just wants to shower, go to bed and fucking forget what happened back at your place. There’s no way you’ll ever want to see him again after tonight, he’s sure of it.
When he opens the door to his place, he’s hoping Changbin’s not home. But of course he is - lying on the couch as he watches some stupid reality show. His friend snaps his head in Chan’s direction with a smirk on his face.
“How did the date go? Got your dick wet?” Changbin suggestively wiggles his eyebrows. Chan is still as red as a pepper in the face, and then Changbin sees it - it being the huge stain on his friend’s pants. “Oh. You did.”
ᥫ᭡
Chan is surprised you don’t think he’s a real loser, and that you actually want to see him again.
You don’t even mention the accident, and Chan is really grateful for that, even though he still cringes when he thinks about it. However, when he told Changbin and Minho what had happened at your place, instead of making fun of him they told him it’s a completely normal and natural reaction. Up to that moment, Chan had been the only person to ever touch his cock, so it’s completely normal to feel extra stimulated when another person touches you, or something like that. He just remembers taking a huge sigh out of relief after that talk.
You want to see Chan again and again and again. And you do.
You go on fun dates - trying out new coffee shops and bakeries, or having nice and relaxing picnics and watch the sunset as Chan puts his arm around your shoulders, and you end up making out shamelessly in the backseats of his car in the empty parking lot of the movie theater instead of going in and actually watching the movie you’d planned to see that night, and you even dry hump again there, and this time you both cum in your pants. You cuddle, too, so much - Chan really loves physical affection and is really glad you do too, because he really loves wrapping his arms around you, or kissing your cheeks, or hiding his face in the crook of your neck. It’s like you were made for each other, Chan can’t help but think.
Chan is happy, unbelievably so.
For the first time in his life he’s found a person, you, who understands him and makes him feel important and appreciated. He’s been told he’s hot by a relatively high number of girls before, but they all seemed to be after his body and nothing else, and that’s why he never took things further with any of them. Chan craves something more, he craves a connection. He craves true feelings and somebody who’ll listen to him rambling at the end of a bad day, somebody who loves him for who he is and doesn’t care about how he looks, somebody he can be himself with.
He found that someone in you, he’s sure of that.
You’ve been seeing each other for nearly three months now, but you’ve been nothing but perfect to him. Like that he told you he was having the worst day and was feeling so frustrated, and what you did was inviting him over to your place, where you greeted him with a basket of freshly baked pancakes with strawberries and blueberries as well as maple syrup. Then, you’d cuddled him the whole time he stayed at your place, lay on the couch under a warm blanket and put on his favorite movie to try to cheer him up. He’s really glad he’s found someone like you.
Chan has never had such deep feelings for someone before. He’s never even had a serious relationship before - you’re the first.
How beautiful is it, falling in love with the right person? Sometimes, Chan really can’t believe his luck. He’d met you casually, none of it was planned, and he’s fully convinced that’s the beauty of it - the spontaneity is what makes everything a hundred times better. Chan met you on a rainy day and, ironically enough, as soon as his eyes met yours it stopped raining.
He thinks it’s a casualty, you think it was fate.
After wasting the best years of your life begging for the love of a person who clearly wasn’t right for you and who made you feel completely worthless, you believe the gods above sent you Chan as an apology for all the shit you went through in your life. Sometimes, you think you truly don’t deserve him and his kind heart, you don’t think you’re enough for him. Even though you never explicitly told him, at one point Chan could sense there was something up with you, and what really surprised you was his maturity, because he actually wanted to talk it through with you. He cuddled you and suggested the two of you watched a movie so that he could cuddle you, and he spent the whole time placing soft kisses on the top of your head and with his arm wrapped around your waist - until he fell asleep, that is.
That was the first time he slept at your place. Neither of you had planned it, it just happened - you had fallen asleep on the couch, snuggled up to each other, and when you woke up it was already nearly two a.m. and definitely too late for Chan to drive back home. That was also the time when you gave him his first handjob - well, the first handjob given to him by somebody who wasn’t his own hand. And even though you fell asleep right after cleaning him up, curled up to his side and hugging him from behind, Chan couldn’t sleep. In fact, he spent the whole night lying wide awake and staring at the ceiling, unable to stop thinking about what had happened mere minutes earlier.
Yes, because that night something else had happened - you’d told Chan you might love him, and he’d told you the same. It was in the heat of the moment, words spoken when you were touching him and neither of you was thinking straight, but you’re sure he meant it - you surely did. How could you not love Chan? He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more, your sunshine in your darkest days and the most important person in your life.
“Pretty?” Chan’s voice brings you back to reality. You blink a few times, turning to look at him. The room in the movie theater is almost full, but thankfully no one’s sitting next to you or Chan. “Do you not like the movie?”
“No, no, it’s not that. Was distracted.”
“What’s distracting you, pretty?” He whispers, caressing your knuckles to soothe you. “Is there something wrong? Did something happen at work?”
You shake your head as a no, and then you smile at him. “Was just thinking about you.” Thankfully, the room is dark, otherwise there’s no way he wouldn’t notice the blush on your cheeks. “How much I’m thankful to have you in my life.”
“Ah, pretty,” he squeaks, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, embarrassed. He, too, is red in the face. “You caught me off guard, heh. I’m thankful, too, baby. You don’t know how much,” he kisses your shoulder, and squeezes your thigh. He’s unusually touchy these days - not that you mind it, of course.
That night, you don’t end up making out in the backseats of Chan’s car, surely because the parking lot isn’t empty at all, but mostly because Chan suggests going to your place after the movies, and by the way he keeps squeezing your thighs throughout the whole car ride, you kind of have the feeling you won’t be just making out tonight.
ᥫ᭡
Chan pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to yours.
“I kinda… want to, uh, you know, return the favor,” he bites his lip nervously, blushing a little.
“Favor?” You quirk an eyebrow at him with a smirk on your face.
Of course you know what he’s talking about. He’s talking about the other night, when he slept over for the first time and you gave him a handjob, taking things a step forward in your relationship, and to be honest - it was all you could think about for days. You even touched yourself in the shower a couple of times thinking of how his chubby cock felt in your hand as you stroked him.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Chan mumbles embarrassed, gaze dropping to where his hand is resting on your thigh.
“Yeah, I know,” you tease him, “but I still want to hear you say it.”
He’s red in the face.
“You’re cruel,” he whines.
You shrug, “I just love seeing you squirm. So, what is it that you want to do to me?” You run your fingers up his arms, wrapping them around his biceps and biting your lip. He feels so big.
“I wanna… I wanna make you cum,” he mumbles, still not looking at you. In fact, he’s looking at where his fingers are squeezing your thigh. “With my fingers.”
“That can be arranged,” you chuckle, placing two fingers under his chin and lifting his head to meet his eyes. Then, you kiss him on the lips and stand up, and he’s confused. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, hm?”
Chan nods. His legs are shaky and feel kind of jelly as he follows you in your room and then on your bed, lying down next to you - his heart is beating incredibly fast in his chest. He’s never done anything like that, of course, and everything he knows about fingering comes either from porn or the online articles he’s read, and he’s scared he’s gonna mess up and he won’t be able to pleasure you the way he wants to. He knows he shouldn’t be so hard on himself, but he can’t really help it. He wants to make you feel good the same way you do him.
Too lost in his own train of thought, he’s brought back to Earth when you take off your t-shirt in front of him - you’re wearing a bra, your favorite one actually, but Chan’s brain is already short-circuiting. His jaw drops, and he stares at your barely covered breasts like an animal in heat.
“You can touch, you know?” You tease him, grabbing him by the wrist, intertwining your fingers first and then guiding his hand to your chest until he cups one of your tits with his large palm. “You can do anything you want, Channie.”
He looks at you like a lost puppy, still pretty nervous about the whole thing, even though there’s a new feeling in his chest, a new desire that’s eating him alive. “You like it when… you know, I touch you here?” He squeezes your soft flesh lightly, careful not to be too rough because he knows it can be painful.
You nod, nuzzling his cheek and kissing his jawline. “Yeah, I really like it. You can take the bra off, if you want to.”
Chan is about to see his very first pair of boobs, and maybe that’s why his hands are shaking like a leaf as he slides the straps of your bra down your arms. You caress his arm as he gently touches your skin, placing soft kisses on his temple to get him to relax, and once he’s done sliding both straps down your limbs, your reach behind your spine to unhook your bra, figuring it’d be much easier this way. When it comes off, Chan lets out a whimper as he bites on his lip, and then his eyes are back on yours.
“You’re so beautiful,” he kisses your lips as his hand finds its way back on your chest, now touching you without the useless piece of fabric separating your bodies.
“You’re just saying that because you just saw your first pair of boobs,” you chuckle.
He shakes his head, “I’m saying that because it’s true. Oh, and by the way… I’m hoping it’ll be the only pair I’ll ever see in my life.”
His words make your heart thump inside your chest, and you find yourself blushing at the implication - cheeks burning red, so you hide your face in his neck. “You can’t say things like that,” your voice comes out muffled by his t-shirt.
“Why not? It’s true.”
He doesn’t really know what he’s doing when he swipes his thumb over your hardened nipple, but he surely is surprised when he hears you whimper and feels you tugging at his t-shirt.
“D-Do that again,” you bite on his shoulder when he brushes your nipple once more. And once more. Chan finds out he really loves hearing you let out soft, pretty sounds for him - because of him. “Please… use your mouth, please,” you beg, clenching your thighs to relieve some of the tension you’re feeling between your legs. You can’t wait for him to finally touch you there.
“My mouth?” He repeats, and you nod.
“Just… your lips and tongue. Please,” your breathing starts to become more irregular.
You let go of Chan’s shirt only to lie down with your back flat on the mattress, boobs on full display for Chan to admire and worship, even though he’s pretty clueless about what he’s supposed to do next, so you decide to guide him. He positions himself between your thighs.
“Start by kissing my neck,” you instruct, “and then move down. Just do whatever you want, really.”
Chan latches his lips on your neck and you moan. Now it’s his turn to clench his thighs, squeezing his neglected cock. He kisses your collarbone hungrily, occasionally scraping it with his teeth clumsily, not realizing you love it. And when he finally starts kissing the soft skin of your boobs, the both of you let out a tiny gasp.
“Like this?” He mutters against your flesh, not even thinking about pulling away from you.
You nod, burying your fingers in his hair while you grip the bedsheets with your other hand. “Yeah,” you sigh, “now l-lick. My nipple. Lick me there.”
The first swipe of Chan’s tongue on your sensitive nipple has you arching your back in desperate need for more. And he gives you exactly what you want, wrapping his hot lips around your hardened bud, still continuing to swirl his tongue around it. With a confidence he didn’t know he had within himself, he starts playing with the other one using his fingers, the same way he did before, just brushing it with his thumb - when he pinches it, you let out a tiny squeak, and he lifts his gaze to check if you’re alright.
“Are you,” you mutter between deep breaths, “are you sure this is your first time doing this?” You chuckle, tugging at his hair softly.
He blushes a little, then nods with his nipple still in his mouth, and it’s the hottest sight ever. But you need more.
You wrap your fingers around Chan’s wrist, and then you start sliding his hand down your body, past your navel, until his fingers brushes the hem of your yoga pants. That’s when Chan’s breath hitches, and he looks at you like a kicked puppy, slightly panicking inside because he has no clue what to do. Well, technically he knows what he’s supposed to do, but practically… He adjusts himself on the mattress, removing his body from between your legs, and you whine at the loss of contact when he lets go of your nipple.
“You still want to do this?” You ask him, and he nods. “Relax,” you tell him, noticing he’s been holding his breath, “you’ll do good. We’re taking this slow, remember? It’s not like I’m expecting you to be a pro at it.”
He nods once again, but looks more convinced and confident this time. “I’m sure. I want to do this.”
You smile at him, kissing the tip of his nose, “you’re so cute.”
Hooking your fingers in each side of your yoga pants, you slide them past the curve of your ass and down your legs, taking them off for good and letting them fall on the floor without a care in the world. Chan bites his lip at the sight of your barely covered pussy, and the lacy material is kind of see-through, so he can take a glimpse of it. He’s still fully clothed beside you, while you have only your panties on. Before taking things further, he takes his t-shirt off in record time, revealing his naked torso to your eyes.
“You look so handsome…” you whisper, tracing the outline of his abs with the tip of your fingers, hard under your touch. “You’re gonna let me ride your abs one day, yeah?” You kiss him right on his pecs, unable to contain your eagerness.
“Ride them?” He asks, pretty confused because how can someone ride abs? Is it actually a thing?
“Yeah, just let me sit on you and rub my clit on your abs until I make myself cum.”
Chan had never heard of such a thing before you explained it to him, and now he can’t physically wait to try it. He wants you to use his body in every possible way - you wouldn’t even have to ask, whatever you want to do to him, you can do it. He’s yours.
“Oh. Of course you can,” his fingers brush your panties, and suddenly you’re remembered of what you were about to do before you let your hormones take over.
“You can take them off,” you mumble on his skin, kissing him one last time on his collarbone, and he nods, beginning to slowly slide the lace down your legs, finally revealing your nakedness to his eyes.
Chan has never seen a naked woman before, if porn doesn’t count, and maybe that’s why he literally can’t tear his eyes off you, off your bare pussy, and he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss you everywhere, there, for hours, days even. He wants to do it slowly at first, peppering your skin with soft kisses, and they he’d want to devour you, he wants to kiss and lick and bite you until his lips physically hurt, until you both can’t take it anymore.
Your panties are soon discarded on the floor after what feels like an eternity, but Chan’s still focused on looking at you. He looks at you as if you were a work of art, the most beautiful painting in a museum, as if you were the most perfect thing in the world and he’d ruin you with his goofy and inexperienced touch. His eyes move from your pussy to your boobs, and ultimately on your face. You’re naked in his arms. You’re letting him see the most intimate and private parts of you and he’s so flattered and honored and he just wants to kiss you and thank you for trusting him, even though he is the virgin. He doesn’t even care that other men saw you like this, he finds it completely irrelevant, because he knows that from now on it’s him and only him that’ll get to see you, touch you, kiss you and have you.
“You’re so beautiful,” he nuzzles your cheek, eyes fluttering shut as he lives the moment, enjoying the warmth of your body next to his. “Looks so pretty,” he mumbles, still looking at your pussy.
You take his hand, that’s resting undisturbed on your thigh, and bring it closer to your most delicate part. Even though it’s you who’s being touched right now, it’s Chan who shivers once his fingers brush your pussy. A small huff escapes his nose. You feel foreign under his touch, and so fragile. Chan is scared he’ll mess up.
“I’ll probably mess up,” he mumbles, finding the courage to open his eyes and look at you - you don’t seem to be bothered in the slightest. In fact, your own cheeks are tinted of a bright pink shade, and your own fingers are slightly shaking, Chan can feel it.
“It’s okay,” you kiss him on the cheek. “You’ll learn. I’m not expecting you to be perfect on your first try, just so you know that. We’ve got a lifetime together to practice,” you chuckle, and he does, too, although he’s a bit more nervous than you.
“Okay. Just… teach me,” his gaze moves to where he’s touching you, his fingers still on your mound.
You move his hand slightly, and gasp when Chan brushes your clit. It’s dry, and not completely satisfying, but the friction still makes you throb, however slightly. “This is the clit. Do you watch porn?”
Chan wishes he could physically stuck his head in the sand because of how much he’s embarrassed to admit this, even though it’s completely normal. “Y-Yeah, I… I watch it, some times.”
“You know it’s okay to watch porn, right?” You chuckle, “nobody’s judging you for that.”
“I know, I know,” he mumbles, still quite embarrassed. “It’s just… I don’t do it regularly. Only some times. I prefer to use my imagination when I’m… you know.”
“When you’re touching yourself?” He nods, red in the face. “You’re so cute. One day you’ll tell me what you think of, yeah? For now, just focus on me.”
Chan feels kind of weird at the thought of sharing his dirty thoughts with you, mostly because, well, you’re in all of them, but you seem to be particularly interested in knowing, so he just nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll tell you.”
You kiss his cheek once again. “This is the clit,” you repeat. “I really like to be touched here, but not like this. It’s too dry and kind of painful.”
“And how do you like to be touched?” He asks as if he were in class and taking notes.
“It depends. I usually squeeze some lube on my fingers and it helps,” and then you move his hands only slightly farther. Chan still can’t believe how soft you feel. “But you made me really wet, so this’ll work, too,” you bite your lip. Chan’s now touching your entrance, fingers kind of dipping into your wetness. It feels kind of sticky on his skin, and there’s so much of it already even though he barely touched you.
“I made you this wet?” He can’t help but ask, incredulous.
“Yeah. You know, all the kissing and the dirty talk, you touching my boobs…” you trail off.
Gripping Chan’s wrist tight, you allow him to move his hands up and down your pussy a couple of time, making sure to coat his fingers in your arousal as much as possible, and once they’re significantly wet, you guide him back on your clit.
“You can do anything, really. Move them how you want, it doesn’t really make a difference for me. Just, whatever you do, be delicate.”
Chan looks completely lost, unsure what he’s supposed to do even though you literally just told him. Instinctively, what he does is move his fingers drawing a kind of circle on you clit - he saw it in a video once, and the girl had seemed to like it very much.
“Like this?” He asks.
You nod. “Yeah, it feels nice,” you encourage him. Of course his movements are not perfect, but it’s still pleasant. “You can go a bit faster.”
When he does, his fingers kind of slip from your clit, and you reposition his hand to make sure he’s rubbing the right spot. “Oops, sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed, blushing a little, even though he’s got nothing to be sorry for.
“It’s okay. You’re doing good,” you encourage him, kissing his shoulder while trying to muffle the sounds that leave your mouth.
He keeps touching you exactly like you taught him to, rubbing you delicately, eyes on his fingers and, consequently, on your pussy as he remains quiet only to listen to the sweet sounds you’re making. When his fingers start to feel a little bit dry, he spontaneously dips them back in the pool of arousal at your entrance, and then he resumes the movements on your clit. Once he’s gained enough confidence, the circular movements slowly turn into tight, imaginary eights on your clit, and he’s not prepared for the moan you let out, your fingers gripping his arm tight.
“You’re doing so good, Chan,” you huff, pressing your lips on his skin, holding onto him as you feel the knot in your stomach begin to form. “Keep going.”
Chan believes he could easily get addicted to the small, squeaky sound you make when you’re getting close to your release, and he still can’t believe he’s the cause you’re feeling that good. It’s a confidence booster he didn’t know he needed until now. He kisses the top of your head as he feels your legs starting to shake. He still can’t believe he’s about to make you orgasm despite this being the first time he lays his fingers on a woman.
“I’m close, Channie. Don’t stop,” you stick your fingernails into his skin, and he muffles a whimper.
His wrist is starting to hurt, but he has no intention to stop - he keeps rubbing your sensitive bud like he has no other purpose in life, and in a matter of seconds, he has you cumming under his touch, although he doesn’t realize it at first because you don’t warn him, even though you do let out a high-pitched moan that has him shivering. He only realizes you’ve come when you clench your thighs, practically blocking his movements because you’re starting to feel overstimulated.
“’S too much,” you whine, hiding your face in his neck, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and moving his hand away from your pussy. He’s confused, so you explicitly tell him, “I came. ‘M too sensitive now,” and don’t miss the way he raises his eyebrows.
He made you cum. He was able to pleasure you to the point you orgasmed because of him. When he looks down, not only your pussy is completely wet, but there’s also a small, wet patch on your bedsheets - the proof of what he did to you, and he can’t help but feel proud of himself.
“Was it okay?” He asks you, lying down next to you as you try to catch your breath, brain still feeling kind of fuzzy.
You nod, “it was great. You learn pretty fast,” you chuckle and Chan blushes. “But now I kind of want to do something to you, you know? As a thank you for a mind-blowing orgasm?” You squeeze his thigh.
Chan looks taken aback. “You, uh… you don’t have to do anything, really.”
“So you don’t want me to suck you off?”
Chan’s cock positively throbs in his pants. The thought of you wrapping your lips around him drives him crazy, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined it before, especially when it’s late at night and his stupid hard cock won’t soften.
“I-I… I don’t want you to think I pleasured you just to get something in return.”
“Chan, I want to do it,” you mumble, kissing his lips, “‘m not asking just because I feel pressured or I feel like I have to. I really want to suck your cock,” your hand moves farther, now almost palming his cock.
Chan nods. “Okay. I, uh… I really want it, too, obviously. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t pressuring you into it.”
“You’re not,” you smile at him, and then Chan feels you slowly unbuttoning his jeans, and then the zipper is next.
Even though you already gave him a handjob and licked him cum off his stomach, he still feels kind of self-conscious about showing his naked body to anyone else who isn’t his bathroom mirror. Moreover, he knows his cock is not the biggest out there, and he can’t help but feel a little bit anxious because what if you think he’s not enough? What if your exes were bigger? He’s above average, maybe only slightly bigger, but what if it’s still not enough? He doesn’t say anything, though, and lets you undress him slowly, as if you were unwrapping a present, slowly stripping him of his skinny jeans.
You’re naked in front of him, positioned between his legs and ready to touch him, to take him into your mouth, and he’s slowly starting to panic. Chan takes a deep breath when you hook your fingers in the hem of his boxers and you feel him tense up, shutting his eyes closed. He’s spiralling, you can see it, and you don’t want it this way, so you remove your fingers from his underwear. He opens his eyes to look at you, confused, nervous, scared you might just get up and leave, fed up with his insecurities eating him alive. Instead, what you do is look him in the eye as you palm his erection over his boxers, and then you press your mouth on it. Chan has to muffle a moan in the back of his hand, keeping his eyes on you. And then he feels your hot tongue on him, over the thin fabric of his boxers, and his cock throbs.
“You feel so good already,” you mumble, continuing to lick him over his boxers until your tongue is pressed on his balls, and that’s when he involuntarily jerks his hips. It feels so good, better than anything he’s ever felt before. “Can’t wait to taste you,” your voice comes out muffled by the fabric of his boxers. You want him to feel confident, to stop panicking and finally realize that you find him unbelievably hot.
Begging he does when you wrap your mouth around his balls as your fingers tease his sensitive tip. “Please,” he whines, finding it already hard to hold back. He’s not gonna last at all. It’s gonna be even worse than the dry humping thing, he’s gonna blow unbelievably fast. “Feels so good. Feels amazing, oh,” he whines, gripping the bedsheets tight.
“You do realize you’ve got nothing to be shy for, yeah? You drive me crazy, Chan,” you place a few more kisses on his length, “I just want to make you feel good. Show you how much you turn me on. Will you let me?”
Chan whines, a small “yeah” leaving his mouth, and he suddenly feels much more confident than before. You always manage to make him feel so loved, so appreciated, and he’s forever grateful that he’s experiences all of his firsts with someone like you - with you. It wouldn’t make sense with anyone else, it wouldn’t feel this way - so right.
He helps you slide his boxers down his length, which finally springs free and hits his stomach with a slap, and then his underwear soon reaches yours on the floor. Maybe Chan’s cock isn’t the longest out there, it most definitely isn’t, but it’s definitely the prettiest you’ve seen. It’s kind of thick and feels heavy overall, with a thick vein on the underside and full, heavy balls yearning to be touched again. You want to give this boy all the head in the world.
“Your cock is so pretty,” you mumble, leaving a couple of kisses on his groin, where his cock is lying undisturbed. Chan can’t wait for you to touch him, for you to do anything you want to him. “Can’t wait to taste you again, Channie.”
Chan doesn’t even have the time to say anything to you, because as soon as he tries to speak he feels your hot, wet tongue on his length and he has to bite on his lip to muffle an obscene moan. It’s not physically possible for a blowjob to feel this good, and you haven’t even taken him in your mouth yet. Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, and he throbs in your palm, heavy and eager. When you wet his sensitive tip with a gob of your spit, it catches him completely off guard, and a shiver runs down his spine, but it’s nothing compared to the way his legs tremble when you run your tongue along the underside of his cock.
“Oh, my-“
You smirk, looking at him as you engulf his cockhead in your mouth, enjoying the way he’s squirming, fisting the sheets and holding on to them for dear life. He tastes kind of salty, but you don’t really mind, in fact it’s kind of pleasant. When you try to take more of him into your mouth, he can’t help but grunt, his balls tightening. You start moving up and down his length, taking a bit more of him in your mouth with each bob of your head, and Chan can’t take his eyes off you - there’s saliva dripping from your mouth and all over his cock, coating his entire length and his balls, and you’re making the prettiest sounds as you take him into your mouth until he’s almost fully buried inside of it.
“‘M not gonna last very long, gotta be honest,” he chuckles, stomach tightening as you swallow around his length. His whole body shakes.
You simply squeeze his thigh to let him know it’s perfectly okay, that you don’t really care when he cums - what matters the most is that he enjoys what’s happening and that he’s feeling good. When his tip hits the back of your throat he hisses, fisting the sheets even tighter until his knuckles turn white, so the next thing you do is stretching out your arm to intertwine your fingers with his, and then you place his hand on your head, burying it in your hair. Chan feels kind of bad about pulling it, afraid to hurt you or to cause you any discomfort, but when he eventually pulls it and you moan out of pleasure he can’t help but raise hie eyebrows in surprise. So he does it again, closing his eyes and relaxing under your touch.
“Your mouth feels so good, what the fuck,” he whimpers, clenching his thighs in a desperate attempt of putting off his orgasm. Now that he knows how having your lips wrapped around him feels like, he’s not sure he’ll be able to live without it.
Just when Chan thought it couldn’t get even better, it does. His whole body shakes when you take all of him into your mouth and swallow around his length again. Then one more time, as your hand comes to cup his balls, caressing them delicately, and before he can’t warn you or pull you off his dick, he’s cumming, shooting his load in your mouth.
“Fuck. ‘M sorry, ‘m cumming, oh my God.” He rambles, not even knowing what he’s saying because it just feels so good and his brain feels fuzzy and he’s still trembling and cumming in your mouth.
But you don’t pull away - instead, you swallow his release with a hum. It’s salty, but with a bitter aftertaste that’s not necessarily bad. When you pull off his cock and look at him, Chan looks as if his soul had left his body, lying on the sheets completely spent, his cock softening where it’s resting against his abdomen.
“I’m so sorry,” he pouts.
“It’s okay,” you giggle, licking you lips. “I liked it. You taste nice, just like I remembered.”
“C’mere,” he mumbles, opening his arms at you. You lie down next to him, resting your head on his chest. “No, no, let me kiss you. Wan’ kiss.”
You smile as you lift your head to lean in and place your lips on his. He can taste himself on you, and it’s not as disgusting as he thought it would be. His hand comes to cup your cheek as he nuzzles your cheek when he pulls away. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“You’re just saying that because you just had an orgasm and your brain feels kind of as if it were floating. Wait until post-nut clarity hits you,” you tease him, poking his dimple with the tip of your pointer finger.
“No, I’m saying it because I really think you’re amazing and I love you.”
That’s when time stops, and nothing else in the world seems to exist apart from you and Chan in your messed up bed, covered in sweat and body fluids, with messy hair and out of breath. Nothing else exists and nothing else matters because Chan just told you he loves you. You don’t even realize your eyes welled up with tears after his spontaneous confession. Yes, you technically told each other you might love each other, but this is entirely different. This marks the start of something new.
You sniffle, and hide your face in Chan’s neck - you don’t want him to look at you when your eyes are all red and puffy. “I love you,” you mumble quietly, but Chan hears you loud and clear, and he holds you close to his chest.
“Why are you crying?” Chan asks, kissing the top of your head.
“Because you… you told me you love me and now I’m all sensitive because I love you too and you make me so happy.”
He chuckles, thinking you’re the cutest in the whole world and that he’s so lucky to have found you. He stretches his arm to grab the sheets to cover your entangles bodies. You fall asleep like that, lulled by each other’s heartbeats, surrounded by each other’s warmth. And when you wake up the next morning, you go again - he pleasures you with his mouth this time, and then the two of you end up dry humping once again, this time without clothes separating your bodies until Chan spills onto your stomach and mentally notes to bring a condom with him the next time the two of you’ll have yours or his place for yourselves, because there’s no way he’ll be able to resist you.
He’s ready.
ᥫ᭡
Chan is starting to believe his boss really hates his guts, because he decided to send him off a work trip to Japan for a whole week, which means he won’t be able to see you for a week, which means your plans of touching, kissing, feeling each other will be delayed. It shouldn’t really be an issue, since he’s being a virgin his whole life, but Chan was really looking forward to spending some time alone with you this weekend.
Three days left. Three more days and he’ll be able to kiss and hug you again and so much more.
Chan changes into his pajamas and slips under the soft covers, and just like every night since he left, he unlocks his phone and video calls you like a sort of nighttime routine he wishes will continue even after he’s returned from his work trip. It’s cute, watching you all snuggled up under the covers and fall asleep together like that. Only this time, when you pick up the phone, you’re not snuggled up under the covers at all. In fact, you’re wearing your bathrobe, one that’s kind of revealing. Chan’s eyes widen and he looks at you shocked, looking already kind of flustered.
“Uh, hello to you too?” He chuckles, looking at you through the camera, and you greet him with a big smile on your face.
“Hi!” You chirp, and of course you do realize he’s red in the face, but by now he’s well aware that you love seeing him all flustered and squirming. “I jus’ got out of the shower.”
“Yeah, I figured,” he stutters, embarrassed. “Do you want me to call you back? So that you can put something on?”
“Why? You don’t like me in a bathrobe?” You tease him, knowing it’s the complete opposite.
Chan sighs, shaking his head as a no. “I think I like you way too much in that. Which is a problem, you know, because I’m so far away from you…”
He truly can’t wait to see you again.
“But you’ll be back soon…” you smile at him through the phone, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “and you’ll get to see me in way less than a bathrobe.”
Chan’s cock stirs in his pants at the thought. Ever since he’d seen you naked he hasn’t been able to think of anything else while he touches himself. Ever since he got to feel you and taste you, he can’t get the thought out of his head.
“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “Don’t say things like that. Please, not when I’m seven-hundred miles away from you and I can’t see you. I’m losing my mind over here, thinking of the last time we saw each other…”
You smirk, and then slide the bathrobe off one of your shoulders. “Yeah? Whatcha thinking of?” You bat your eyelashes at him, untying the knot on the robe, and Chan’s breath hitches in his throat.
“Are we about to do what I think we’re about to do?” Chan can’t help but ask, a pained expression on his face as he palms himself over the shorts he wears to sleep, feeling himself growing harder under his own familiar touch. “‘Cause I’m down, fyi.”
You nod. “If you’re thinking of phone sex, then yeah,” you bite your lip. “Now be good and take off your shirt, yeah?”
His t-shirt comes off in seconds and he shows his naked torso to you through the camera. He looks incredibly good, and you wish you could run your fingers all over his naked chest and pecs and arms and every single inch of his skin, really. Touch and kiss him until you get him all riled up - soft kisses on his neck that inevitably turn slutty until you’re fully sucking on his skin and leaving pretty marks there. The thought is enough to make you clench your thighs.
“Now you. Please,” he speaks softly through the phone, slightly embarrassed to be the only one who’s so exposed right now.
It’s only fair that you show him a little something, right? And even though he’s seen them a couple of times already, a tiny, muffled gasp still leaves Chan’s mouth once he finally sees your boobs on his phone screen. You’re smirking, of course you are, as you grope one with your own hand and squeeze it. Chan misses the feeling of having them in his hands.
“Pretty. So pretty,” he mumbles, staring at your boobs while still palming himself, now fully hard. “How are you so perfect? ’t’s not possible, you’re not real. ‘M convinced you’re not real sometimes, you know?”
You giggle, pinching your own nipple between your fingers. “I’m definitely real, I’ll show you when you’re back. And for the record, you’re the perfect one,” you bite your lip as you compliment him, still looking at his half-naked figure.
“Baby? Pretty?” He mumbles, a tiny huff leaving his nostrils as he keeps looking at you playing with your tits, on full display for him to see. “Show me something more. Please, baby. Need it, need you.”
“Only if you show me your pretty cock first.”
Taking his shorts off using only one hand is pretty uncomfortable, and Chan has to actually set his phone aside for a couple of seconds to slide them down his thighs, letting his cock spring free, hitting his skin with a loud slap. When he picks his phone again, he realizes he’s a bit self-conscious about showing himself completely naked to you over the phone, even though you literally had his cock in your mouth. You actually find it cute and somehow hot, honestly.
“Don’t go shy on me, baby. It’s just us, you and me.”
Chan nods convinced, and then angles his phone so that his hard manhood is now shown on camera, with his fingers wrapped around his base. Is he doing this right? Is there even a right way to do this? He’s never had phone sex before, obviously, so he doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do right now. Should he just touch himself? Or perhaps should he wait for you to show yourself to him first? He opts for the first option.
“It looks so hard. Wanna touch it so bad, wanna feel you in my mouth again.”
Chan kicks his head back into the soft pillows, squeezing himself even tighter. “I’d kill to feel your mouth on me right now,” Chan grunts, not really paying attention to what he’s saying because, let’s face it, there’s no blood left in his brain. “S-Show me, pretty. Your… your pussy. Please. Need to see you.”
The bathrobe finally comes off, and you too angle the phone in the best way possible for him to see every bit of you. He finally sees your pussy and his eyes roll in the back of his skull as he bites his lip. He’s never even fucked you yet and he’s already whipped for your pussy. If he focuses hard enough, Chan can still taste you on his tongue, he can still feel the way your thighs clenched so hard around his head to the point he couldn’t move as you came onto his tongue. He can still feel how wet you were as he moved his cock up and down your folds until he spilled his cum onto your stomach.
“‘M so wet for you, Chan,” you speak softly, and he watches you as you run your fingers up and down your slit, not missing the way a pained gasp leaves your mouth when your pads brush your sensitive clit. “Wish you were here. Wish you were touching me right now, you’d feel so much better.”
Chan gives a long and painful stroke to his hopeless cock. “Don’t say that, pretty. Been thinkin’ about touching you the whole day. I woke up so horny for you…”
“Me too. I touched myself in the shower to the thought of your mouth on me…” you admit, slightly red in the face, as your fingers begin to circle your clit. “I can’t wait to see you again, Channie.”
“Me too, pretty- fuck,” he whimpers, stroking his cock a bit faster now, setting the pace he’s so familiar with. “I wanna do it so bad. Had a dream about it, you know?”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
Chan’s cock throbs in his hand at the thought of the dream he’d had a couple of nights earlier. “We were at my place and- and we were touching each other, you know?” He whimpers, swiping his thumb over his painfully red tip. “A-And things escalated? I can’t really remember how or when, but at some point you…”
“I?” You encourage him to speak, touching yourself faster, the thought of Chan dreaming about having sex with you driving you absolutely feral.
“You got on top of me, pretty,” Chan whines pathetically. “You got on top of me and-and took my virginity. I blew so fast, pretty,” he chuckles, “made a mess on the bed.”
“Channie, I’m- fuck, baby, I’m cumming,” you warn him, your own orgasm catching you off guard. It’s so intense you have to close your legs and clench your thighs due to the oversensitivity.
“M-Me too, baby. Pretty, fuck,“ white ropes of cum shoot right onto his abs and chest as he lets out the prettiest moans you’ve ever heard. He just keeps cumming until it starts dripping down his skin and it pools right at the base of his softening cock, staining the soft hair of his happy trail and a bit of his fingers, too.
Chan and you remain silent for a couple of minutes, trying to catch your breaths. You can’t wait to see each other, but it’s not just about sex. You miss each other in all the little things, in the routine, in the lunch breaks spent together and the stolen kisses when he drops you off at work, in the walks under the moonlight, in the soft touches you exchange under the covers when you spend the night together - all the sexual stuff is just a bonus.
“Wow, it was… it was really something,” Chan takes a deep breath. His hair is disheveled and he has his usual post-orgasmic grin on his face. Not that you’re doing much better, honestly - you’ll probably need another quick shower before going to bed. “Now I’m missing you even more, though. Wish I could hug you, wanna fall asleep together.”
“Soon, baby. Only a couple of days left and then we’ll be inseparable,” you smile at him through the phone screen, and he wishes he could kiss you right now.
“I can’t wait,” he smiles back.
A shower is very much needed, but neither of you feels like hanging up the video call, so you clean yourselves up while the call is still going, and then meet each other again once you’re done and ready to slip under the covers. And just like every night since Chan left, you fall asleep together, while watching each other’s cute, sleepy face over the screen, wishing you were in each other’s arms.
ᥫ᭡
This time Chan is really, really ready.
Shower? Taken. Cologne? Sprayed. He chose to wear his favorite t-shirt and jeans, and chose not to wear any piece of jewellery. He shaved his beard and put on a moisturizing cream to make sure his skin would be nice and soft for you to kiss and touch, and even applied lip balm for the exact same reason. Chan even shaved somewhere else, not fully, the same way he’s always showed himself to you. And ultimately, he sprayed some more cologne on, just to be sure he smells great. He spent an awful amount of time checking himself in the mirror, trying to ignore the way his legs felt kind of jelly and how fast his heart is beating in his chest - tonight is the night.
That’s also why he touched himself in the shower, you know, to make sure he won’t blow as soon as he puts it in.
Of course, he brings with him the box of condoms he bought a while back - not that he’s hoping to use all of them, but he brought so many just in case something goes wrong because you never know. He rolled his eyes when Changbin and Minho teased him for a bit with their silly jokes and allusions to what’s going to happen, and raised his middle finger at them before closing the front door behind his back before hopping in his car and driving to your place, because you thankfully don’t have nosy and antisocial roommates who are always home.
When you open the door, he thinks you’re more beautiful than ever.
And no, you’re not wearing anything too special like a dress or something revealing or anything else. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, the one he gave you before he left for his work trip to Tokyo, and some baggy jeans. Still, he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Chan jumps into your arms as soon as you open the door, hugging you tight and burying his face in your neck, finally able to breathe in your scent after spending a week apart.
“I missed you so much,” his voice is muffled, “‘m never leaving you again. Missed hugging you, having you in my arms. My pretty girl.”
You wrap your own arms around him, pulling him even closer, feeling his strong body pressed to yours. You’ve missed him so much, and now he’s here and you feel so happy you could cry.
“Missed you too, baby, so much,” you play with his hair, tugging at it while he’s still wrapped around you like a koala. “Video calls were fun and all, but I really missed the real thing, you know? Your hugs are the best in the world.”
He chuckles. “I’m happy you like my hugs, pretty, because I’m totally gonna smother you with aaaall of my physical affection from now on to make up for the lost time.”
You pull away, looking at him, quirking an eyebrow. “All of your physical affection?”
Chan’s heartbeat picks up in his chest as soon as he hears your words - of course he understands the implication behind them, and he’s not caught off guard, it’s not that. He’s ready, he wants it, of course. It’s all he could think of for days, weeks even.
“All of it,” he concludes, a hint of a smile on his face.
“Oh,” you rest your palms on his broad chest, not tearing off your gaze from his beautiful hazelnut eyes, “sounds like a promise.” You tease him, kind of wanting to test his limits - you want to know if he’s really sure about it. Him being convinced and comfortable with you is what matters the most.
“It is,” he nuzzles your cheek. “If you want to, of course. Want to show you how much I missed you,” he kisses you on the corner of your lips, “how much I want you,” a small peck on your mouth, “how much I love you.”
Finally, he kisses you properly, his hot tongue in your mouth as you make out shamelessly in your living room. His hands come to cup your cheeks while yours pull him closer by the waist, hooking your fingers in the loop of his jeans until his body is pressed against yours.
“Bedroom?” You mumble in between kisses, and Chan’s lips move to your neck - his touch so delicate and sensual it makes you shiver in anticipation.
Chan hums against your skin, his hands squeezing your waist as he takes a tentative step forward, towards your bedroom. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, doesn’t want to pull away from you not even for one second. His hot kisses on your neck make wetness pool inside of your panties, and you can feel him get hard - then his lips are back on yours as you try to reach your room without pulling away from each other, bumping on door jambs and furniture edges on your way there, but you couldn’t care less right now.
“I love you,” you whisper on his lips once your back hits the mattress - Chan hovering over you, his hands on each side of your head.
“I love you too,” he presses his body on yours, and you spread your legs to accomodate him. His fingers toy with the hem of your t-shirt and before you know it, his hand slips under it, brushing the bare skin of your stomach until he cups one of your breasts with his palm and he’s met with the feeling of the lacy fabric of your bra.
“Take it off,” you breathe, craving the feeling of Chan’s hands on your skin. He nods, and you arch your back, allowing him to slip the t-shirt off you.
You don’t miss the way his eyes roll in the back of his head at the sight of your semi-naked breasts, covered only by the sexiest bra he’s ever seen - black, of course. When your fingers tug at his t-shirt, he wastes no time in taking it off at the speed of light - not an ounce of shyness in his moves, and you’re soon met with the sight of his bare chest and abs. You run your fingers all over his muscles, feeling them hard and toned under your touch.
Your jeans are the next thing that comes off. Chan slides them down your thighs relatively quickly, if it weren’t for the way his brain literally short-circuited at the sight of your matching lacy panties. His pants soon reach the floor as well, leaving him in only his boxers that do nothing to hide his erection. Chan’s lips are back on yours as he positions himself between your legs once again, pressing his clothed cock on your pussy, and you both moan at the feeling.
“Wanna make you cum,” he mutters on your skin as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck, and his words send a shiver down your spine. His hand reaches behind your back to unhook your bra.
You whimper. “Right now?” You let him slide the piece of fabric off you, and Chan starts kissing your collarbone.
“Yeah,” a kiss on the valley of your breasts. “It probably won’t be good, you know? The sex. Since it’s my first time and everything, so I really wanna make sure you cum. I don’t wanna be like those selfish guys who leave their partners unsatisfied.”
“You’re the most selfless person I know, Channie,” you mumble, breath hitching in your throat when he wraps his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before moving to kiss your stomach. “You really don’t have to,” you tell him, but he’s already hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties.
“But I really want to.”
Oh.
Chan slides your panties off, kissing every inch of your inner thigh as he removes the very last piece of clothing covering your body. Even though he’s definitely not a pro at giving oral, since it’s something he only experienced a couple of times, he feels confident in his skills - he had a great teacher, after all. He tries to remember what you told him the first time he did this as his kisses move closer and closer to your core.
Slow, that’s how you like it. Chan starts with a filthy lick that goes from your entrance to your clit, where he starts sucking. He’s a fast learner, that’s for sure. Chan buries his face in your cunt, lapping at your clit and stroking your hips with his thumbs while your body shakes and trembles under his touch as he eats you out. It’s messy, and he’s still learning, but it feels amazing nonetheless. You tug at his hair and he moans, even though you’re the one who’s being eaten out as if the world ended tonight. Chan brings you close to your high fast - even he’s surprised when he feels your thighs clenching around his head already, but can’t help but feel proud of himself.
Your pretty moans and whimpers fill Chan’s ears and your bedroom as you cum on his tongue. He licks your arousal off you, swallowing your sweet release as your flavor fills his mouth - he gets so drunk on it. Maybe you’ll let him eat you out once more tonight, if he’s lucky.
“Channie, baby. Too sensitive,” you whimper, tugging at his hair to get him to stop lapping at your cunt. He does pull away, but nuzzles and kisses your inner thigh for a while in a soothing way as you come down from your high.
“Was it good?” He mumbles against your skin. He’s not teasing you, he’s really waiting for a feedback.
You nod, caressing the back of his head. “Are you kidding? ’t was amazing.”
He chuckles, embarrassed, hiding his face in your skin as he blushes. “Ah, I had a really good teacher,” he kisses your thigh.
“Nah, I think you’re just naturally talented. Those lips are a guarantee,” you smirk. “C’mere.”
Chan lies down next to you, and cleans his mouth with the back of his hand, but you can still taste yourself on his lips when you kiss him. He gasps in your mouth when you catch him off guard by wrapping your fingers around his manhood over his boxers. He feels only slightly bigger than usual and very hard and hot and in a few minutes it’s going to be inside of you.
He pulls away from your lips when you slide your hand under the waistband, finally touching him properly. “Baby. Pretty, I’m- I want you.”
You give one long stroke on his cock and he whines. “Yeah? You’re ready?”
Chan kisses your naked shoulder. “Yeah. Want you now.”
You nod, “alright.”
Chan’s hands and limbs are shaking with nervousness as he gets up from the bed to retrieve his jeans jacket on the floor, fishing the box of condoms from inside the pocket. He pulls out one. He feels nervous as he comes back to where you’re lying all naked and pretty, waiting for him, and all of a sudden he’s more nervous than he’s ever been.
“How do you… uh, how do you want to do this?” He tries to hide his insecurity behind a warm smile. It’s not like he’s changed his mind - he wants this, he wants it very much. He just doesn’t want to fuck this up or embarrass himself.
“However you want, baby. We go at your pace,” you brush his knuckles in a comforting way, “maybe you should be on top.”
Chan nods. He pulls his boxers down slowly, letting his erection spring free and slap on his abdomen. He’s shaking even now as he’s tearing the condom wrapper open, and you sense his nervousness, so you prop yourself on your elbows to look at him. He rolls the condom onto his length pretty easily, and then takes a deep breath, his heart beating fast in his chest.
“Channie. Baby, c’mere,” you mumble.
He looks at you with puppy eyes as he lies on top of you, resting his head on your chest. “I’m sorry. I want this, I really do - I’m just nervous.”
You run your fingers through his soft curls. “I’m nervous, too, you know?” You speak softly, kissing the top of his head, admitting for the first time tonight how you’re feeling, catching Chan off guard, because why would you be nervous? You’ve done this before.
“You’re nervous? Why?” He has to ask, lifting his head to look into your eyes.
You caress his cheek with your thumb. “Because it’s your first time,” you smile at him, “and I want you to have a nice memory of it, you know? I mean, what if you don’t like it with me? It’s going to… you know, set the bar? For whoever is gonna come next.”
“Ah, are you crazy?” Chan looks at you with a serious look on his face. “Of course I’m gonna have a nice memory, baby. I’m gonna have an amazing memory, and you know why?”
You shake your head as a no. “Why?”
“Because it’s you who I’m experiencing this with,” he whispers on your lips, looking you in the eye. “And don’t you ever say that again - you know, the whoever is gonna come next part. There’s not gonna be anyone else. I’m in love with you and I wanna be with you for a very long time, so don’t even worry about shit like that, ‘kay?”
Unable to say anything, you just nod as you feel tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, and you’re quick to dry them with the back of your hand. Chan kisses your lips tenderly, and his warm touch comforts you.
“I, uh…” he trails off with a chuckle, eyes dropping to where his cock is resting between your bodies, still pretty fucking hard.
“Do you want me to do it?” You offer, and Chan nods - ever since his friend Felix told him about that time he put it in the wrong hole accidentally he’s been terrified of embarrassing himself like that, too, so he figures it’s best if you help positioning his cock at your entrance.
Your hand reaches down to wrap around his base, and you spread your legs a bit more just to be comfortable as Chan lifts his hips. You let the tip of his cock bump on your clit a couple of times, and then you gently position it on your entrance, still wet from your orgasm and Chan’s saliva. A shiver runs down Chan’s spine at the feeling - it’s already overwhelming in the best way possible.
“Whenever you’re ready, Channie.”
He nods. “You’re not gonna make fun of me if I cum too soon, right?”
You shake your head as a no, “I won’t make fun of you in any case, Channie. Promise.”
“Alright,” he takes a deep breath and then, he’s pushing inside of you.
“B-Baby,” a chocked gasp leaves his mouth as soon as he feels your warmth wrapped around the tip of his cock.
Even though he’s got a condom on, it still feels amazing, better than anything he’s experienced so far - even better than your mouth, which is his favorite thing in the world. You’re warm and so, so tight around him. You take a deep breath yourself since it’s been a while since you’ve last been intimate with someone, and your heart is beating so fast in your chest you’re actually scared you’re gonna pass out.
“So good,” he mumbles, eyebrows furrowed and lower lip caught between his teeth as he slowly pushes the rest of his length inside of you. “Feels so good, oh my God, baby.”
Once he bottoms out inside of you, his body literally collapses on yours, and Chan hides his face in the crook of your neck. He leaves small pecks on your collarbone and shoulders, and you entangle your fingers in his curls and wrap your arm around his waist. He’s inside of you. He trusts and loves you so much and he gave you his virginity. He’s inside of you and hadn’t been inside of anyone else until now. The thought has you clenching around him involuntarily, and his head snaps up in your direction.
“Don’t do that,” he whines, “I’m trying to last as much as possible, pretty.”
You bite your lip, pulling a couple of strands of hair away from his face. Chan’s cheeks are flushed pink, and his pupils are fully blown - he looks so desperate and already on the edge. “Ah, it’s okay, Channie. You can cum whenever you want, baby. Just do what feels right for you.”
But Chan absolutely refuses to bust after only putting it in without having even had the chance to fuck you. “N-No. Don’t wanna cum yet, wanna last longer. For you. Wanna feel you just a bit longer, pretty, wanna fuck you. You feel so good around me.”
The first thrust inside of you is tentative and painfully slow. Chan lets out a cute hmph as he sinks back into your heat, not tearing his gaze off you. You’re beautiful, lying underneath him - your hair all over your pillow. He’s inside you. He’s finally inside of you, and he can’t believe it. He’s making love to the girl he’s so hopelessly in love with, and it almost feels as if his heart could explode out of joy and happiness and love right now.
His thrusts are all but precise, he’s well aware of that. His movements are uncoordinated and the fact that he already feels on the verge of his orgasm doesn’t really help, but you seem to enjoy it. Your lower lip is caught between your teeth, and you’re taking deep breaths through your nose as you tug at Chan’s hair. It’s all good signs, right?
“Does this feel good for you too?” Chan asks you, his voice coming out hoarse.
You hum, “feels so good, Channie. Feel so full,” you whimper, looking down to where his cock is entering you slowly. Even though he knows he’s not the biggest guy out there, it still feels nice to hear.
Chan’s gaze drops between your bodies, too, and he can’t help but let out an obscene grunt. “Feels so good, what the fuck,” he whines. “How can it feel this fucking good?” He whimpers and moans shamelessly as he continues to fuck into you slowly. “‘M not gonna last much longer, baby.”
You don’t mind. You just nod at him and wrap both your arms around his waist to pull him closer, and then grope one of his asscheeks with your hand, enjoying the way you can feel the muscle clench with each thrust. Then, you grope the other one, too, and then land a slap on his ass that has him folding like a piece of paper.
“Baby… pretty, fuck-“ he sighs, already feeling his cock twitching inside of you - he won’t be able to stop it. “‘M sorry, baby, I’m- ‘m cumming, pretty.”
“Do it, Channie. Cum f’me. Wanna feel you cumming for me.”
His whole body freezes as he orgasms, spilling all of his white release inside the condom, and it’s the most amazing feeling ever. Chan keeps cumming for what it feels like minutes but it’s honestly just a handful of seconds, giving you everything. You wish there was no barrier between the two of you, you wish you could feel him fully, but this feels really nice nonetheless.
Chan’s body collapses on yours as he pants heavily. He wraps his strong arms around your body, enveloping you with all of his warmth in a tight embrace. His head feels so light, and so does his body to the point Chan feels like he’s floating on a cloud. You kiss the top of Chan’s head, and he can feel your soft and delicate touch on his naked shoulders.
Chan holds you closer, and you stay like this for a while until he pulls away when he can feel his cock starting to soften inside of you. Holding the base of his cock and the condom, he pulls out of you slowly and takes off the rubber, tying a tight knot on it to prevent his semen from spilling, then throws it into the bin together with the wrapper and lies down next to you once again. He feels absolutely spent, and hums happily when you pull the covers of your bed over your bodies as you snuggle closer to each other.
“Is it normal I feel so tired?” He giggles, circling your waist with his arm. You rest your head on his chest, lulled by his heartbeat.
You giggle as well, “yeah. It means it was good, hopefully?”
“It was amazing,” he kisses you on the forehead, his fingers drawing imaginary shapes on your skin. “I never knew something could feel this good. I’m convinced it’s because it was with you,” he sighs. “I’m so glad I waited, you know? Wouldn’t have been the same with anyone else.”
“Chan…”
“No, I’m serious. Everything feels right with you. It’s not just the sexual stuff, all the small things feel right with you. Even- even just lying on the couch with you or grabbing a coffee in shitty cafes, or cooking together,” he rests his forehead on yours, closing his eyes. “It’s you who make sense in my life. You just make everything better, pretty.”
“Stooop,” you pout, covering your face with both of your hands, “you’re gonna make me cry.”
He chuckles. “I’m so fucking happy I met you, pretty. I’m so fucking glad you got a flat tire that day, and I was there to help you. My life would be awfully plain and empty without you in it.”
He hears you sniffle and starts rubbing your back to soothe you.
“Channie,” you mumble, voice muffled by his skin. “I’m- I’m happy I decided to open my heart to love again. I knew you’d be worth it, baby. I love you so much, Channie.”
He hugs you tighter and you stay like that for a long while - in silence, feeling incredibly happy and blessed to have found a love worth fighting for. A love that filled your lives with joy and serenity, a love that changed the both of you forever. You’re sure Chan’s the love of your life. He’s sure you’re his.
It’s Chan who breaks the silence first, and you feel him getting hard against your thigh.
“Pretty?”
“Hm?”
“You feel like going again?”
ᥫ᭡
-> 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬! "𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧", 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝.
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baby fever (b.c)
this man needs to chill because i can only take so much 😭 ngl, this is probably the most i've written in a while, and i'm really glad to provide some cute fics for you guys 🩷 i hope you like it!
feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰
“Do you have everything?” Chan asks you while unloading the rental car.
You take a peek into the back seat of the car, making sure both of you had everything. “I don't see anything,” you reassure him.
Chan walks towards your mother's house, presents stacked in his hands. You gently rub his back as you walk up the steps. You knock a couple of times before opening the door, announcing your presence.
“My baby's home!” Your mother's voice reaches your ears, causing you to grin ear to ear.
You give her a quick hug before making sure Chan gets into the house okay. You shut the front door behind him and rest a hand on his forearm.
“Do you need help with anything?” You ask him, moving to grab a couple of the gifts.
“I got it, baby,” he reassures you with a head shake. He leans down to press a quick kiss on your lips before walking over towards the Christmas tree.
You giggle to yourself, gently biting your lip after he walks away. Your mother nudges your arm, snapping you from your thoughts. You lift your head to look at her, seeing a smirk on her lips.
“When's the wedding?” She jokes with you.
A groan leaves your lips as you start to feel embarrassed. “Not for a little while,” you tell her with a shy laugh. Your gaze finds Chan, silently watching him distribute the presents. “I don't even know if he wants to marry me.”
She lets out a scoff, crossing her arms over her chest. “Honey, that boy is infatuated with you. He'd be crazy not to marry you.”
“We'll see where life takes us,” you mention, the smile on your lips growing when you meet your boyfriend's eyes.
“I want to be the first one to know if he does propose,” your mother whispers into your ear as she walks by, joining everyone in the kitchen.
You playfully roll your eyes, keeping yourself from blushing. Chan gives the older woman a quick hug as she walks by before making his way back to you.
“What were you two chuckling about?” He asks, tapping his fingertip on the tip of your nose.
“Just girl stuff,” you vaguely lie, leaning on your toes to kiss his lips. Chan hums into the kiss, his hands grabbing a hold of yours.
He mumbles a quick, "I love you," against your lips, planting one more kiss before fully pulling away. “Why don't we go say hi to everyone,” Chan mentions, squeezing your hands in his.
You nod your head and lead him into your kitchen. You greet the rest of your family, giving them hugs and kisses. You make grabbing hands at the toddler in your big sister's arms.
“Hi, baby boy,” you squeal, holding the one and half year old baby. He smiles at you, bringing his tiny hand to your cheek. “You're getting so big!”
You rest the baby on your hip, lightly bouncing him in your arms. Ji-ho squeals and kicks his little legs into your side. You release a little cry and point at the little man.
“Watch your feet, mister! You're gonna hurt Auntie,” you chuckle, adjusting his legs so they're sitting comfortably.
“He loves to kick,” your sister mentions, walking over to her son. “I forgot to tell you.”
You playfully scoff as she pinches the boy's cheeks. “That would've been some crucial information, Joon,” you tell her with a smile.
Chan moves to stand behind you, and you can hear him coo at Ji-ho. You glance over your shoulder, watching him smile at your nephew. His dimples are present, and you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest.
“Do you want to hold him?” You ask him, turning to face him.
Your boyfriend's gaze moves from you to your older sister. “Would that be okay?” He asks her politely.
“Of course!”
Chan takes the baby from you, lifting him higher for a quick second before resting him on his hip. “Hi, buddy,” he whispers in his baby voice, tickling his stomach.
Ji-ho squeals again, more giggles coming from the baby's lips. He rests his head on Chan's shoulder, his tiny hands gripping his shirt. Your heart feels like it's swelling even larger as you witness your boyfriend interacting with him.
You pull your phone out and snap a couple of photos. He'd make such a great dad… You think to yourself as Chan starts walking around the kitchen with Ji-ho.
Your mother pats your back gently, snapping you from your thoughts. She gives you a knowing smile before nodding her head towards Chan.
“Baby,” you call out to him, capturing his attention. You motion your head towards the hallway. Your sister takes Ji-ho from him as you excuse the two of you.
Chan slips his arms around your waist as you walk down the hallway. You rest your hands on top of his, and you feel like your heart's going to fly out of your chest.
“Everything okay?” He whispers into your ear while stepping into your childhood bedroom.
You nod your head and gently shut the door. His eyes dance between you and the bedroom door. You take a couple of steps towards the taller man, resting your hands on his cheeks.
“Have I told you how much I love you?” You ask in a whisper, gently stroking his cheek.
“Of course,” he whispers back to you, placing his hands on your hips. “What's this ab-”
You cut him off by leaning on your toes, kissing his lips. A moan leaves his lips while his grip on you tightens. One of your arms wraps around his neck as you deepen the kiss.
Chan pulls away from you abruptly, and you attempt to chase his lips, not having enough. “Baby, baby,” he mumbles, moving his hands to your arms. “What's gotten into you?”
You feel embarrassed at how needy you are, but seeing him with a baby has made you a little feral. He gently rubs your arms as you find yourself looking at the carpet.
“I might have baby fever,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear.
He giggles and bends down a little to look in your eyes. “Oh yeah?” He smiles at you, bringing one of his hands to your cheek.
You can feel your cheeks begin to blush, and you push him playfully. “You know what? I hate you,” you laugh, moving past him to lay on your bed.
Chan laughs with you and lays down beside you. “I love you too, baby,” he grins ear to ear before kissing your forehead. He peppers more kisses all over your face. “So, you want a baby?”
A groan leaves your lips after hearing his question. “Not right now, obviously,” you tell him, finding his hand before lacing your fingers together. “But, in the future, I'd like to have a family with you.”
His lips find yours and he kisses you passionately. Your free hand grips the sweater he's wearing, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.
Chan pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. “I would love to have a family with you, baby.”
~
tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n
#bang chan#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#bang chan imagine#bang chan imagines#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan fanfic#bang chan fic#bang chan drabbles#bang chan scenarios#stray kids#stray kids imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids x y/n#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fic#stray kids drabbles#stray kids scenarios#stray kids fluff
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Don't Go Insane
Neighbor!Bang Chan x afab!Reader
✧Genre - Smut
✧Warnings: Unprotected piv (Wrap it up ya'll)
✧ Masterlist ✧
A/N: I have never ever written a fic in this format but it was the only was for my brain to process the idea😭This is a product of those fucking SINFUL photos that Chan took for Nylon Japan. I'm sorry if it sucks, I'm trying to get back into writing again so I might suck for a bit, sorry! Hope you enjoy! (not proofread)
You weren't expecting to actually like your new neighbor since your previous one was such a dick but when you meet Chan he's more than kind to you.
He always greets you in the hallway, helping you bring your bags up to your place when you get home from shopping and checks in on you when he hasn't seen you for a couple of days
You find yourself going out around the same time that he would usually get home from his morning workout just so you can talk to him. He's so sweet and charming and hot. Oh so hot.
He brings you food when he's made too much dinner to fit in his fridge which is code for he wanted an excuse to talk to you and gave you 50% of his meal just to see your face.
You invite him in to eat the first time that he brings you food and it quickly turns into spending Sunday nights eating together and laughing at his stories. It's your favorite day of the week now.
You drop by his place to ask if he needs anything from the store every time that you go now. He's memorized the pattern of your knock and jumps to his feet every time he hears it.
You're in line at the store one day when a magazine catches your eye. Is that…Chan!? You grab it, looking through with wide eyes before buying it and nearly forgetting about the rest of your items.
You don't tell him that you saw it. He never said what he did for work and yeah he's hot - Oh so hot - but you never thought that this would be his occupation and you defiantly didn't think that this is how you'd find out.
You flip through the magazine all night. Staring at his beautiful chocolate gaze and his perfectly blushed lips. How is he even real?
You may have also stared at his shirtless pics for an hour too long. No one has to know that though.
He brings over a new recipe that he tried this Sunday. Setting up your usual spot on the living room floor when his eyes land on a familiar photo on your side table. It's him. You bought his magazine? He tries to act normal about it but his red ears and blushed cheeks give him away.
You catch on when he glances at it for a second time and you internally body slam yourself for forgetting to put it away. You both eat quietly, blushing and trying to find the right thing to say next.
“I'm sorry about that.” You speak first and he glances up quickly, straightening himself up with a shy smile. “It's fine, I'm just embarrassed I guess.” He's shy about being hot?? Why does that make him hotter?
“Are you always the shy type?” Your question was genuine but your tone was suggestive, almost teasing. It creates a shift in his demeanor that makes you shiver. “Not always, no.”
You don't know how it happened. It's all a blur. One second he was talking to you, confident and sweet. He was telling you about the shoot for the magazine when he got to the topic of the shirtless photos. The air around you thickened and the words that started it all slid off your tongue.
“You look so good it could drive me insane.” You chuckled but his eyes darkened in response.
“Do you want me to?” His eyes are on yours, his gaze is heavy and intense. “What?” You drop your fork, swallowing hard. “Make you go insane?”
That's how you ended up with his lips on yours. He swallowed each and every strangled moan and replaced it with one of his own. His hands explored your body, fast yet cautious. A gentleman.
He pulls you into his lap, one of his large palms gripping your ass over your leggings and the other cupping your cheek to keep you still for him. He pulls you close, chest to chest. He's been waiting to feel you since the moment he first saw you. He feels like he's dreaming and he prays that he never wakes up.
His breathing picks up when you plant sloppy kisses along his jawline. Mind numbing groans and hisses falling from his lips. “You're gonna make me go insane, fuck.”
His lips feel like heaven against your skin. Soft and all-consuming. He leaves marks along your collar bones, sucking and flicking his tongue over the delicate skin. Your head is spinning as you take him in. This beautiful man that you've been dreaming of for months finally has his hands on you.
You grind against him, his fingers digging into your hips as he presses up into you. The way that he looks up at you with his lip caught between his teeth is intoxicating. “You're so fucking beautiful.” He smiles at your compliment, blinking a blush away and trying to keep his composure. “Took the words right outta my mouth.”
You pull back, sitting on the shaggy rug and frantically undressing. You're desperate, antsy, absolutely insatiable and Chan isn't too far behind but you could never tell by how composed he looks. How does he have that much self control?
He moves to sit on the couch and watches you as you strip. Taking in every beautiful inch of your body while he makes himself comfortable. You look up at him as he sits, man spreading at the edge of your couch and giving you the perfect view of his aching cock straining against his jeans.
Fucking sinful
"Crawl to me, baby. Come here." He beckons you with two fingers that you're dying to be acquainted with. The smile on his face while you follow his order is enough to make you explode already.
He leans forward, cupping your face and kissing you with such soft hunger. So much passion and desire. A promise, like his kiss is asking you to be his. You palm him softly over his jeans earning a soft moan from him. "You want it?” He leans back, resting against the back of your sofa, giving you full access to his zipper and button. “Go ahead, take it, princess."
His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he watches you free his cock and his eyes roll back when you fist it confidently. Pumping him at a deliciously slow place. You want to drag this out. You don't ever want this to end.
He puts his hand over yours once he gets fed up with your teasing. He loves how your hand feels around him but he needs more of you. He taps his leaking cock against your lips and you allow your spit to dribble down his shaft. "Stick that tongue out. There we go, baby. That's my girl. Look at that.”
He holds your hair back as you slide his length into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. His fingers massage your scalp softly making you hum around him. He's a gentleman, a filthy one.
He couldn’t wait to switch places with you, falling to his knees so fluidly that you couldn’t help but to groan at the sight of him. His gaze never left yours. His eyes were constantly asking for permission to continue and you eagerly granted it every time.
He ate your pussy like a fucking starved man. Lick and sucking the expanse of your cunt like he’d never see you again. Your moans encouraged him as he lapped at you, he wanted - no, needed - you to cum on his tongue. It’s all that he’s been dreaming of for the last month.
He made you cum twice and had to hold back the urge to keep going. He’s definitely found his new favorite thing.
Nevermind, kissing you is his favorite thing. The way that you sigh into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue and biting his bottom lip drives him wild.
You’re seeing stars as soon as he slips into you. His strong arms on either side of your head as he hovers, kissing you softly as you adjust to him. “Fuck, you’re a dream come true, ya know that? I’ve dreamt of this, princess.” You can hardly reply once he fills you to the hilt but you try to anyway, moaning out as your vision blurs. “Wanted you so bad, Channie.”
That was enough to break him. He snapped his hips into you, giving you everything that you ever wanted, ever needed, from him. He fucks you deep, speeding up gradually just to hear you moan his name a little louder. He wants to be gentle with you but with a cunt that feels this amazing he can’t help but want to make you fall apart underneath him.
You always imagined being on top when you finally got to be with Chan but it looks like that’ll have to be another day. The way that his cock is splitting you open makes you feel like you might have to call out of work tomorrow.
“Look at me, babygirl. You liked seeing my pictures, huh? Did you touch this pretty cunt while looking at them?” You nod your head with such urgency that you’re positive that you look absolutely pathetic but Chan thinks that it’s cute, he’s in love with how fucked out you look drooling under him. “All you had to do was ask for the real thing.” He rolls his hips into you and your eyes roll back right after.
He holds both of your hands as he slows down a bit, he wants to make love to you. Wants to treat you like the precious gem that he knows that you are but your cunt keeps fucking squeezing around him. He curses under his breath as he tries to compose himself but it’s no use. He watches as he disappears inside of you, groaning when he sees just how perfectly your pussy is taking him. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby. You’re too much. Too good.”
Much to his surprise you cave before he does, chanting his name like a prayer while he rocks into you at the perfect angle. You feel dizzy as you unravel under him, nails digging into his strong arms and your legs wrapping around his waist in a desperate attempt to feel grounded.
The way that you look cumming on his cock drives him over the edge. He picks up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he’s chasing his. The overstimulation draws out your climax causing a new wave of pleasure to hit you harder than the last. “Yeah yeah yeah, oh fuck such a pretty girl cumming on my cock like that, that's it baby.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying but he doesn’t care he’s so close so so so close.
You forced your eyes open when he pulled out, you needed to watch him stroke himself over the edge and cover your stomach in his cum. You need to take in the way his eyes squeeze shut and his brows furrow while he moans for you. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.”
The giggles that you share after may be Chan’s new favorite part. He cleaned you up and wrapped his arms around you. Pressing kisses to your hair as you both talk about what just happened with smiles on your faces
“This is a bit backwards but uh, can I take you out? Maybe next weekend?” The butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you blush into his chest, nodding happily and answering with a muffled ‘yes’ that makes Chan chuckle. “Maybe afterward I can fuck the sense back into ya, since I drove you insane tonight.”
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MIGRATION | bang chan
first date series. strangers to lovers.
pairing: bang chan x fem!reader
word count: 5.5k
genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight
summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around
chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin
· · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡
author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3
“So…I know a guy.”
You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.
“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”
“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.
Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.
You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.
Long story short, it didn’t.
Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.
“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.
“And what would you know about that?”
“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”
This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.
“At least let me tell you about him?”
“No.”
“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”
Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.
“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”
A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.
Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.
Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.
“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.
And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.
But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.
“What’s his name?”
Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”
“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”
He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”
“Five.”
“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”
“Four.”
“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”
“Three.”
“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”
Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.
“You swear this guy is normal?”
Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”
“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”
“No.”
“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”
“What the fuck? I just said no.”
“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”
“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.
“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”
Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.
“Deal.”
🎥🍿
Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.
You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.
When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.
Chan [12:32p.m.]
Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?
Something came up at the studio
I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time
Great. Already off to a rough start.
In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.
You [2:33p.m.]
no worries!!!
you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?
Chan [2:34p.m.]
Nope! So we should be fine
I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?
You [2:36p.m.]
sounds perfect
hope stuff goes well at the studio!!
Chan [2:40p.m.]
You’re sweet
Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)
You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.
Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.
To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.
It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.
The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.
You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.
You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.
Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.
You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.
He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.
He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”
It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.
“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.
“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”
You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.
“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”
Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.
Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.
🎥🍿
Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.
You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.
When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.
“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”
“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.
Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.
Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.
You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.
Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.
By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.
The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.
There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—
“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”
The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.
Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.
“Yup, that’s the one.”
Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.
“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”
You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”
“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.
“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.
“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”
Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.
“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”
First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.
Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.
“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.
“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.
“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”
You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.
“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”
When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”
Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.
The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.
“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.
“Doing what?”
“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”
Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.
There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.
Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.
Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.
About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.
“You okay? You look kind of tired.”
Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.
“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”
“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”
The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.
Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.
“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.
You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.
He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.
“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.
You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”
“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”
🎥🍿
“For you.”
Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.
“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.
After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.
“Oh, you don’t—”
“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”
“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”
Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”
You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”
It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.
The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.
“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”
Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.
“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”
Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.
Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.
“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.
“You don’t know me enough to say that.”
“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”
A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.
“You’re…”
“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.
“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”
You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”
“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.
“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”
“Why not? I think you like it.”
Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.
“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.
“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.
“Is it bad if I say no?”
Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.
“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”
A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.
It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.
You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.
“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”
“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”
Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.
“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.
“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.
“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.
“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”
[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]
© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.
#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#bang chan angst#bang chan fic#bang chan fanfic#bang chan fanfiction#skz x reader#skz fanfic#skz fic#skz fanfiction#skz smut#skz fluff#skz angst#bang chan#stray kids#skz#first date series
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𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖉𝖏𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙 - sub!hyunjin x sub!reader x dom!chan
wc: 2,804
cw: hyunjin is a slut, so is the reader, chan likes it that way. SMUT MDNI.
synopsis: while shooting the red lights mv chan noticed something about hyunjin and now he's got a theory he wants to test, he just needs your help.
a/n: was literally plagued with visions of overstimulating hyunjin and making him cry soooo this is what i ended up with. oops. also if there are any spelling errors pls don't tell me bc ive read this trash so many times trying to work it all out and if i have to re-read it again i might go blind.
sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), bondage, threesome, some gay shit, breeding, blowjobs, lingerie, deepthroating, general toughness, waxing poetic about hyunjins beautiful face. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.
hwang hyunjin is beautiful. its a well documented fact, no ifs ands or buts about it. he has the kind of face ancient civilizations would have gone to war for. old world dynasties would have been reduced to rubble over a face like his. hwang hyunjin is the kind of beautiful where it almost hurts to look at him. it makes you question your belief in a higher power because, how could there possibly be any room for debate on if there is a God when there is simply no other reasonable explanation for how a devine creature like him came to exist on this earth? so with all that being said, there's no way he could get any more beautiful. or so you thought.
it had always been your assumption that there was no possible way he could look any more stunning than he naturally does; but your mind was changed the minute you saw the lithe expanses of his smooth milky skin held captive by blood red ropes. you felt an astounding amount of pride as your eyes bore witness to his soft flesh being pulled tight by the coarse material; the blood under his skin rushing to the surface where the ropes were knotted artfully over his collarbone, across his abdomen, splayed over his pelvis, looped around his upper thighs and finally circling the base of his dick. and you had worked hard to make sure the knots around his wrists and ankles were comfortable yet sturdy before attaching them to each bedpost.
you had taken your instructions very seriously, as the man giving them to you from edge of the bed, wouldn't allow any of this to continue if either of you were to disobey his direct orders, and dear god you would rather die than see this endeavor be cut short.
you admired your handiwork a bit more before the rumbling of a particular voice hit your ears.
“how do you feel baby? is this what you wanted? y/n did a good job huh? you look so pretty.” chan spoke softly to hyunjin, absentmindedly petting his head. hyunjin looked up at his leader and nodded, unsure if he could speak without whining as the ropes pulled across his body with every move.
“yeah i knew you'd like this. the whole time we were shooting “red lights” i saw you ya know? the way your breathing got shallow when the staff chained you up. the way your eyes glazed over when they gave you instructions to pull against your restraints. god, standing above you on that bed, watching you writhe below me was a sight to see. my good boy just wanted to be tied up and used huh?” chan said to him, his finger hooked under hyunjin's chin forcing his head up to look him in the eyes. a whimper forced its way out of him as his hips instinctually bucked and the the sensation of the ropes took over.
you couldn't drag your eyes away from his lower body. the sharp angle of his hipbones jutting up to the ceiling as his cock drooled uncontrollably, the fluid flowing from his tip dribbling down to darken the rope wrapped snugly around the base of him. without even thinking you reached out and wrapped your hand around his shaft, you were just so overwhelmed with the desire to touch him. the feeling was unexpected and the sound that punched its way out of hyunjin's chest was glorious. his body attempted to curl in on itself but the ropes kept him firmly in place. you watched the range of emotions flicker over his face in rapid succession; surprise at your initial touch, pleasure from finally being granted a little stimulation, sensitivity from being denied his pleasure for so long, shock when he remembered the restraints keeping him spread open, frustration at not being able to move, and finally acceptance as he gave in to the languid stroking you were doing. he continued to toss as the pleasure took over, thrashing wildly against the mattress and moaning into the pillow.
hyunjin's noises were reduced to whimpers as chan’s hand squeezed around his jaw, directing hyunjin to look him in the eyes. “shhh baby boy, y/n is gonna make you feel good okay? you'll let her do that, won’t you? you'll lay there and take what i let her give you, understood? words please, jinnie.” chan cooed. “yes daddy. i'll be good for you, for her too i promise. i'll be your perfect boy just like always, i promise, please! god just please keep touching me!” hyunjin choked out, making chan grin. he leapt up from where he was perched on the edge of the bed and rounded the corner until he was standing behind you. you repressed a shudder as chan’s hand slid up your back, tracing over your spine and occasionally tripping over the straps of the lingerie set you were wearing. his hand glided up into your hair with ease until his palm cradled the base of your skull, then suddenly he locked his fingers to grab your hair firmly by the roots and pulled you upright so your back was against his chest as he angled your head to the left exposing the expanse of your neck. the suddenness of his movements caused you to lose your grip on hyunjin’s dick and he cried out from the loss of contact, his hips frantically bucking into the air in a fruitless attempt to find friction.
chan hummed as his lips made contact with the skin of your neck and continued as he licked, nipped, and sucked at your flesh. he hooked his chin over your shoulder as his right hand charted a course down your abdomen to the apex of your thighs where the pads of his thick fingers rubbed over your damp slit. when you could finally manage to pry your lids open, you locked eyes with hyunjin. he was practically panting watching chan devour your throat and palm your pussy. “so pretty y/n, y’look so pretty. like a dream. want to paint you one day, just like that.” he whispered. hyunjin's words and gaze coupled with chan's wandering hands and skilled mouth were almost enough to send you over the edge.
“now here’s what's next my loves. y/n, you're going to get on your knees, lean down on your elbows and suck hyunjin's pretty dick right into the back of your throat okay? i want you to take him as far as you can, and quickly. do not stop until i tell you to. not if he begs, not if he cries, not if he screams. got it?” you nodded as well as you could with his left hand still in your hair. chan released you and you quickly got into the position he had described, gently grabbing hold of hyunjin's cock. “i’m sorry jinnie, but you know i have to.” you quipped right before you took him into your mouth and as far into your throat as you could manage. the garbled noise that ripped its way out of hyunjin's throat threw you into over drive as you bobbed your head and sucked him like your life depended on it. he was groaning deeply and his limbs were flailing the best they could in his current predicament. his back arched up off the mattress so beautifully you wished chan would take a photo.
“fuck, fuck, FUCK. jesus chri- oh my god! y/n, sweetheart slow down- PLEASE! oh fuck i can- i can feel- fucking fuck. i can feel your throat squeezing me so tight!” hyunjin wailed throwing his head back, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as he grit his teeth.
suddenly chan’s hand made its way to your pussy again and you gasped around the thickness embedded in your throat causing hyunjin to hiss.
“crotchless panties angel? so proud of you. always so prepared for daddy huh? know just what i like.” chan muttered from behind you. you heard the telltale jingle of his belt being opened and the zipper being lowered on his jeans. he had already removed his shirt earlier so he was naked quickly, and he wasted no time before rubbing the head of his dick along your weeping folds.
“now i'm going to fuck you nice and deep the way you like and i want you to keep sucking my good boy okay?” chan said but before you could respond he shoved himself into you in one swift thrust. chan was not small in girth or length for that matter but the stretch you felt every time he fucked you open was delicious. you couldn't help but moan around the cock in your mouth which in turn caused hyunjin to scream at the unexpected vibration. chan’s laugh that followed was dark and proud, thrilled that he held so much power and that you both let him use it.
“fuuuuck sweet girl this cunt is always so fucking tight huh? doesn't matter how many times i fuck you or let someone else fuck you, you always snap right back. god i love being inside you.” chan growled as his hands gripped your hips and held you steady as he pummeled his way in and out of your slippery hole. the whole time he was fucking you, you were being forced onto hyunjin's cock as well, every moan muffled by the thickness battering your throat.
“hyunjin is y/n a good cocksucker? hmm? you think? you think she's better than you were?” chan taunted him as he drove himself inside you over and over again. “remember when we had our first one on one meeting? just me and you alone in the studio? i said 'hyunjin if you really are serious and want to stay in this group i need one thing from you’ do you remember that? i do.” you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn't see him. hyunjin groaned and mumbled what sounded like a yes. “i also remember how fast you sank to your knees and scrambled to try and open my belt. you thought i wanted you to suck me off to stay in the band. and you were so willing to give me whatever i wanted. all i was going to ask you for was your loyalty and your honesty in all things. but you offered up that pretty mouth quick as a bitch and who was i to say no?” chan laughed at the memory as he threw a foot up onto the bed to change the angle he was fucking into you from so he was now nailing your gspot on every thrust.
“y-yes i remember. ‘course i do. i knew w-what you were gonna ask me because felix told me beforehand what you were going to ask, what you asked a-all of them. i just- fuck yes keep sucking y/n im so close. i jus’ wanted you so bad i thought if i tried and y-you didn't want me back it would just be an easily brushed off m-misunderstanding.” hyunjin whined, his hands balled up into fists, knuckles white.
“y/n suck him dry. now.” chan ordered and you sucked harder pulling a squeal out of hyunjin. “go on sweet boy. go ahead and cum. you earned it.” chan encouraged as he delivered a heavy smack to your ass. your muffled yelp was the final straw and hyunjin came hard into your mouth, his body attempting to lurch off the bed. you swallowed everything down and pulled off of him, replacing your mouth with your hand. as chan continued to ram into you, you mirrored his thrusts with the fist wrapped tightly around hyunjin's still hard cock.
“stop stop stop please! god please i can- i can't take it! it's too sensitive please!” hyunjin cried. “yes you can baby. you can take it. trust me.” chan cooed. feeling bold you leaned forward once again and sucked hyunjin's tip harshly while lashing the tip of your tongue over his slit.
“FUCK! no no no no it's too m- too much. stop stop stop!” hyunjin continued to wail. he was begging you to relent but he also didn't use his safeword so you knew he didnt really want it to stop. the sound was like music to chan's ears and the rhythmic clenching of your cunt around him propelled him quickly toward his own orgasm.
“i'm gonna cum in you okay baby? gonna breed this pretty pussy, stuff it full of my cum. that what you want? yeah it is isn't it?” chan rambled and you moaned out a “yes please daddy” right before he exploded inside you. your hand around hyunjin never stopped moving and he was crying now. big fat tears rolling down his cheeks from the overstimulation.
chan pulled out of you and watched your hole flutter, pushing out his seed. he murmured a string of praises as he watched the glistening fluid drip out of you. you looked over your shoulder at him, jutting your lower lip out.
“daddy i didn't get to cum yet. can i?” you asked.
“go ahead baby. make yourself cum.” chan said with a wave of his hand and an evil grin etched on his face. you grinned right back before scrambling up hyunjin's body and straddling him.
“wh-what are you doing? oh...oh no. no no no. please it's so sensitive it's so so sensitive y/n i can't!” hyunjin hiccuped, tears still flowing. you leaned forward and ran your tongue up his cheek, lapping up the briny liquid seeping from his eyes. then you whispered “oh jinnie, don't you want me to feel good too? i worked so hard after all.” you reached behind you and positioned his tip at your entrance before effortlessly sliding down onto him. you moaned as he filled you and he once again thrashed against the ropes wrapped around him. you started to ride him in earnest, aching for your own release at this point. the man beneath you was mumbling incoherently about how good your pussy feels and how badly he wants to come again. chan sauntered over and perched next to hyunjin again, reaching out to pet his head and pepper his face with kisses.
“i’m gonna cum, fuck i'm gonna cum!” you cried as you worked yourself over hyunjin’s dick and used one hand to furiously rub your clit.
“daddy shes squeezing me so hard i don't think i ca- can get out. can i cum inside?” hyunjin pleaded with chan. “of course you can baby, right sweetheart? you want jinnie’s cum inside you don't you?” you just nodded in response. “my girl loves to be creampied you never have to ask. just go ahead baby boy.” chan explained. you drove yourself down onto hyunjin twice more and then you were cumming, mouth dropping open as your inner walls milked him for all he was worth. hyunjin spasmed beneath you as he came and came and came inside you. he wasn't speaking anymore, just making these stunted little sounds as his body shook with the aftershocks of his second orgasm.
chan had begun to untie the ropes as you slowly lifted yourself off of hyunjin. you whispered praise to him as he has hummed, completely fucked out and boneless beneath you.
“shhh it's okay sweetheart. you did so good for us baby. we’re gonna put you to bed now okay?” chan murmured to the man shaking in the bed. hyunjin managed to croak out an “uh-huh” in response. you grabbed a bottle of lotion from nearby and began to work it into the reddened skin all over him where the ropes had been, while chan wiped down hyunjin's groin with a warm cloth. you hummed a tune you knew hyunjin loved and his eyes fluttered shut, a tiny smile making its way to his face.
after everything was put away and the room was right again, chan crawled into the bed to spoon hyunjin’s half asleep form while you crawled in the other side to press yourself to hyunjin's still somewhat heaving chest. you pulled the blanket up high and tucked yourself into his warm skin and he wound an arm around your waist. chan's hand rested on hyunjin's hip, squeezing the flesh there every so often.
being here felt so right, so natural, so easy. loving these two was as easy as breathing. you couldn't believe it had taken this long to get here but now that you had, you weren't letting them go. before your eyes fell closed you heard the sound of chan's lips kissing along hyunjin's shoulder before he whispered “rest now my loves. because i have big plans for you tomorrow.”
THE END
#jd's archive#bang chan smut#hyunjin smut#bang chan fanfic#hyunjin fanfic#bang chan fanfiction#hyunjin fanfiction#bang chan x reader#hyunjin x reader#chan x reader#chan fanfic#chan fic#chan smut#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz smut#stray kids fanfic#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz hyunjin#skz fic
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Among Strangers | Bang Chan
•Synopsis: A handsome stranger takes it upon himself to take care of you in a crowded subway as you try to evade a man that had been following you after a night of drinking.
•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader
•Content Includes: smut, stalking, public unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, crowded area, sex with a stranger, biting, possessive chan, brief mentions of bondage and claustrophobia with a surprise ending. (I think that's everything)
an: This was first posted on my Wattpad but it was pretty ass and didn't do well so I fixed it up a little bit (a lot... Like it was so bad lol) and figured maybe it would be better appreciated here.
Part II
Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌
After a chill hangout at the bar with some friends from work, you all decide to head home. It's been a chill night with not too much drinking. Since you live close by, walking home seems like a good idea for some fresh air. But as you split from the group, you realize you're not alone. You start to get this eerie feeling like you're being followed. Looking over your shoulder you see a hooded figure and the hair on the back of your neck stands straight up. At every turn there he is, shadowing your every move, sending shivers down your spine.
Nervous about the idea of him following you home, you hop onto the subway thinking you could hide among a sea of people. With the size of the crowd there's no way he could find you. You're confident it'll work as you weave your way through the crowd, tripping over your own feet in a rush to lose him. You aim for the door at the end of the car on the other side just to create some distance between you and him. You steal a glance over your shoulder, heart pounding, checking if the man is still behind you. But in a rush, you accidentally step on someone's foot, sending a jolt of embarrassment through you.
“Oh my god!” You exclaim, cheeks reddening. “I'm so sorry.”
When your eyes meet the stranger in front of you, you're met with kind gentle brown eyes belonging to a beautiful man with dimples and perfectly styled hair buzzed slightly on the sides.
“No worries.” He smiles sweetly showing off his perfect dimples while his velvety Australian accent engulfs you and calms down some of the panic in your chest.
Looking over your shoulder again, you catch sight of the man coming into your view. His gaze meets yours, and a smirk plays on his lips before he casually looks away. Panic surges again, your moment of peace gone, sending your heart into overdrive and your eyes to widen in alarm. The handsome stranger in front of you notices your reaction and follows your line of sight to the man in the black hoodie, mirroring your concern.
"Hey, you okay? That guy giving you trouble?" His voice cuts through the chatter of the people around you. His voice, laced with a hint of concern and tinged with something darker, making you snap your attention back to him.
The dim subway lights overhead cast shadows across his young face, highlighting his handsome features more rather than diluting them. You feel a knot tightening in your stomach realizing just how worried for you he is. He glares at the creep and the muscle in his jaw ticks once.
“He’s been following me since I left the bar. I was too afraid to go home so I tried to make a detour to shake him off but he's fucking relentless.” you explain in a quiet hush.
The creep looks over at you again as if to make sure you're still in his eyesight and looks away quickly to not draw attention to his shady acts.
“Maybe he'll back off if he thinks we're together? He looked away pretty quick when he saw me. I'll stay with you for however long you need. Just to be sure that you're safe.” The stranger beside you says sweetly.
You felt fucking lucky to have run into someone willing to help you, to keep you safe. You could've ended up locked in some damp dark basement if not for this man you thought to yourself. You can already feel the mild tipsiness from the alcohol wearing off and you feel more alert and aware of your surroundings.
“Thank you so so much.” You reply and the man holds his hand out for you.
“I'm Chris.” He gives you an award winning smile that lights up his whole face and yours.
You mirror his smile and take his hand. One shake and you gasp at the sudden static shock that you feel spread throughout your whole body rather than just your fingertips. His hand is soft and warm and your body suddenly feels hot all over as if you drank a lot more than you really did.
“Y/N.” You introduce yourself timidly and he gives a small nod of his head.
The train rattles to a stop and opens the doors behind you and Chris, letting on more people eager to get home after work. It becomes increasingly crowded and you're forced even closer to Chris. So much closer that you have to take a couple of steps back in an attempt to have some space, only for your back to hit the glass window of the other doors. Another stop and more people push in, bringing the creep closer to you and forcing Chris's chest to push into yours. He apologizes, placing gentle hands on my arms.
“If you get uncomfortable let me know. I'll try and make space.” He tells you, placing a hand above your head as the train rumbles along.
“Y-yeah okay.” You mutter, feeling the hard muscles underneath the white button up shirt he's wearing.
With the alcohol completely gone from your system now, you realize that the situation you're in is beyond embarrassing. Your breasts are rubbing against his chest with every rock and shake of the train in an almost lewd way. Granted you are thankful that he's keeping you away from being pressed up against some weirdo or worse the guy following you but still, It's awkward. There's no way he can't feel your heart beating so rapidly. The train makes a sudden bump and your bodies are pushed together even more.
“Sorry.” You whisper when your hands instinctively go around his middle. He chuckles and you feel it vibrate through your chest, causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter awake.
“It's okay y/n. You give great hugs.” He says, the butterflies go mad and your face grows warm.
He's so sweet and so good looking there's no way he was flirting with me just now. No way, he's just a really sweet guy. Yeah… he's just being nice.
As the train continues to go on you feel eyes on you, burning a hole straight into your skull. Looking around Chris's muscular frame you see the creep, staring, lewdly licking his lips and undressing you with his eyes, no doubt. You squirm to try and get out of eye sight but Chris's strong hand holds you still.
“What's wrong?” He whispers. His voice makes you shiver against him and his fingers tighten on your arms briefly.
“That creep is staring at me.” It makes you feel disgusted. Your skin crawls the way his eyes slide over your face.
Chris curses under his breath and pauses. “I'll push up to give you enough space to turn around so he can't see your face. Maybe once these doors open we can quickly get off and lose him then.”
You nod at his idea and he pushes on the door, putting an inch between you two. It's not a lot of space to move but you try your best, turning around facing away from Chris and the creep. Now, at least like this, your breasts aren't crushed into him. Only now, your ass is pressing against his front. From one awkward situation to another…. This is what I get for going out after work on a Wednesday. You think to yourself. I should've gone straight home or at least changed.
The skirt you decided to wear to the office today is now hitched up just barely covering your ass. If you can just keep still maybe he won't notice and the situation doesn't get any more embarrassing than it is.
“So uh what do you do for work y/n?” Chris asks and clears his throat. You can feel every word against your back.
“Uh, I work at CBO. I'm an editor over there.” You feel him nod behind you slowly.
“I heard they're supposed to get a new CEO. Some big shot is what the news is saying.” He responds but you shrug. You haven't heard much about the new CEO except for that he's the son of the previous CEO as well as the new owner now that his father is retiring.
“I'm sure he'll be a great boss. I actually haven't met him yet. I don't even know what he looks like” You utter softly sounding uncertain. Would he be a great boss? Would he take care of you? Who knows he could change everything with just one hand.
══════════════•✦•✦•══════════════
The train enters a tunnel and you watch the lights outside in the darkness flick and zip past in a blur before noticing Chris's reflection. His eyes are on you, studying your face in the glass of the door. Your eyes meet in the all the air gets sucked out of your lungs like a sudden punch to the gut. His gaze is smoldering, far too hot to be on the receiving end of such intensity. No one says a word although his lips slowly form a sexy coquettish smile.
“Do you need me to stay with you when we get off while you call your boyfriend?.” He whispers.
You shake your head no, eyes still on his reflection. “Don't have one of those but I can call a friend to pick me up.”
As you're about to open your mouth again to thank him for the hundredth time, the train comes to a screeching stop and the lights in the car go out. Men and women grumble and some even scream. The force causes Chris to slam into you and your skirt bunches up further about midway up your ass. In a panic you tell him and he curses under his breath.
“I'll try to fix it but I have to touch you, y/n. Is that okay?” Him asking for consent to touch you makes him that much more attractive.
“Yes, please.” You say, just as a voice is heard over the speaker.
“Passengers, please be patient there seems to be some debris on the tracks that is blocking our route. They're already taking care to remove it. We'll be moving on shortly.” The voice is replaced with calming elevator music playing loudly.
That's a smart way to keep everyone calm so that no one panics. Only one panicking right now however is you. The feel of Chris's fingertips against your bare thighs is driving you insane. His touch is hot but you shiver like his fingers are made of ice. Why is it turning me on so much when he's just trying to fix my skirt?. The move is too slow to be legal that's why. His movements feel so sensual.
“Sorry, I'm trying not to draw attention.” He explains as if he can hear your thoughts.
Shit you want to stop him. To say never mind and to leave it as is and pray that the train will be stopping soon to let some people off… but you don't. Instead you hold your breath and squeeze your legs together. Your arousal grows to an unbearable high. It's just a simple touch. Why is it driving you crazy? You aren't inexperienced at your age by any means. You've had lovers before but this man's fingers, they burn wherever he touches.
“The material of your skirt seems to be stuck on my fly.” He says and the urge to crawl into a hole is strong. “I can fix it but I'll have to lower my zipper. Tell me what you're comfortable with y/n.” He whispers leaning closer to your ear.
Loose tendrils of your ponytail flutter around your ear from his breath and you mentally remind yourself to breathe. Would it be selfish to ask him to lower it? What if he's uncomfortable with that? This isn't just about you now.
“I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”
He places his palm flat against your thigh comfortingly. “Whatever you decide, I won't be uncomfortable. As long as you're comfortable y/n, then so am I.” The conviction in his voice calms you and you give him a curt nod once.
“Lower it please.” You whisper, your voice sounding small with embarrassment.
His hand moves again from your thigh to your ass and you bite your lip hard. His knuckles graze the bareness and you unexpectedly feel him stir from inside his black slacks. Seems like I'm not the only one turned on by the other. Slowly and agonizingly, he lowers his zipper to not be heard over the piano and violin playing through the speakers.
“There. Are you okay?” You don't feel okay. You feel like you’re on the verge of dying from embarrassment and horniness. You can feel the opening of his pants against you and his growing erection pressing into your ass.
“I'm okay.” You lie. “Thank you Chris.”
Out of habit whenever you're riddled with anxiety, you shift your footing which only makes your ass rub against his erection more. “Shit. I'm sorry, I move around when I'm in an embarrassing situation and this takes the cake for me.”
He chuckles softly. “It's okay. I uh, I can't really control it unfortunately. Not when I've got such a beautiful woman like you in my arms. You make it… difficult to say the least.”
You rest your forehead onto the cold glass feeling the blush take over your whole face and he chuckles again.
“If I knew my evening would be like this I wouldn't have gone to happy hour with my co-workers.” Your sad confession fogs up the glass and you close your eyes.
He places a comforting hand on your hip. You're so packed he can't seem to stand the way he was before. His arms are restricted from raising any further than your hips now.
“It's okay y/n it's not all bad. We got to meet after all.” He says, making you smile.
“That's true. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't run into you.” His hands linger and you get so used to the heat that when he finally does move them away you feel cold and shiver under him. He groans softly, sending something like an electric current to the space between your thighs. That sound… you want to hear it more. Biting your lip you shift your weight from one foot to the other.
“Y/n…” Chris quietly says, sounding amused. “What are you doing?”
You shake your head feigning innocence. “My feet. It's these heels, I'm sorry.”
Why did I do that? I've seriously lost my mind but why do I want to do it again? The feel of him hard against your ass must be making you certifiably insane. This isn't right. Your better judgment screams at you. It's just your hormones getting out of hand.
When he places both hands on your hips and leans in, you expect for him to call you out on that blatant lie but instead he whispers, “Do it again.” All while slowly playing with the hem of your skirt.
You stifle a silent gasp, jaw dropping in disbelief, yet you obediently follow his instructions moving your hips just slightly. When you do, his left hand grips onto your hip tight and he sighs. His erection, that's fighting itself to stay inside the confines of his briefs, jerks forward against the fabric. Before you can shift again, his right arm wraps around you and his fingers find the wetness of your panties.
“So I'm not the only one fighting temptation I see.” His warm sweet breath fans across your cheek and your body sags a little in his arms when his fingers begin to dance.
Focusing on your breathing is all you can do so you don't faint from his touch. And trying to stay quiet now becomes a struggle the more his fingers move.
“Is this okay y/n?” You can only nod, too afraid of accidentally moaning and embarrassing yourself anymore today. He just chuckles and stops the torturous tango that his fingers were doing. “Use your words baby girl. Tell me if it's okay or not.” he instructs.
“Yes. It's okay, more please.” You hoarsely whisper, voice thick with lust.
Chris doesn't move, doesn't make a sound for what feels like minutes rather than seconds. Afraid that he might not have heard you, you open your mouth to repeat yourself when his fingers slip under the satin of your thong and into your slick folds.
“Good girl.” He says, his voice dripping with sex.
You lay your head back onto his shoulder as he works you just barely over the edge. Long fingers slipping in and out, massaging your thoroughly drenched cunt with ease. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit and everything around you begins to blur. Lust, that primal urge, it ignites like a flame inside you, pulsating with an insatiable hunger that courses through every fiber of your being. You're so close to cumming around Chris's fingers, soaking his hand with your desire. You want to tell him just how close you are but if you let up on the hold your teeth have on your bottom lip you won't be able to control the sounds you'll make.
The lights come on just as you're about to come undone and he quickly removes his fingers just as quickly as he inserted them. The train begins to move again and you squint at the sudden light overhead that blinds you, breathing heavily. Before your eyes can adjust to the light and before your core begins to crave Chris's touch, you feel him fumbling behind you freeing his cock and distracting you from the frustration of your denied orgasm.
“Is there anything I should know?” He inquires, sounding like he's in a business meeting.
You don't need to ask what he's referring to. The real question though is do you really want to do this here, with someone you just met? What if you get caught? You both could get arrested. You could get fired. But there's no room in your mind for logic right now with the thrill and your need to cum clouding you. Fuck it.
“No nothing, I'm good. This is what I want.” You see his reflection smile.
“Good. Now, keep your eyes on me y/n.”
You feel the tip of him, covered in precum pressed firmly on your ass and his hands slide under your navy skirt pushing it up further. He hooks his thumb under the string of your thong and pulls it to the side. Your eyes never leave his face.
“No noise.” He warns, situating himself behind you, lining his cock up just right.
His cock feels thick and hot slipping between your thighs. You're so wet that there's little to no resistance as he pushes further and further until he's fully inside you. You let out a shuddering breath and your eyelids flutter close, feeling his warmth.
“No noise, remember? Look at me y/n. I want to see you when you cum on dick.” He tells you quietly, his voice more quiet than a whisper.
Your eyes fly open and stare at his reflection in awe of how gorgeous and composed he looks. He looks calm, like he's doing nothing other than waiting for his stop but his hands tell you otherwise. You feel it in the way he's gripping you to steal himself and to keep from bucking his hips into you at full force like he wants to. Like you want him to.
Instead he has to go at such an aching delicious slow pace so that the people behind him or next to you both aren't aware of what's going on. Your fingers long to hold onto him, to anything really. You're stuck standing still with your palms flat against the glass in front of you. Your breathing begins to fog the glass but you keep your focus on Chris and notice how his eyes go half lidded.
The brown seems to have gotten darker than the warm milk chocolate from earlier. One of his arms snakes around you and he presses his hand flat on your belly giving him more leverage. When he starts to move just a tad faster your heart rate skyrockets. The fear, adrenaline and lust mixing together creates an intoxicating concoction. Every glance, every touch, becomes charged with an energy that enthralls you. Your pulse echoes in your ears, drowning out all rational thought.
Chris's thrusts are covered up by the rocking of the train as it speeds down the rails. Your orgasm isn't far at this rate. Like a slow burn you feel it building up. A simmering that starts deep within your core, radiating up and outward. You're struggling to stay standing, to stay quiet now.
Your breathing comes out in ragged pants and your knees threaten to buckle the closer he brings you to ecstasy. You aren't the only one struggling, Chris's breathing is just as shaky and primal as yours and you hear him whisper something in another language before he murmurs “Fuck.” Into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. When your walls tighten around him he curses again and his gaze looks wild.
“Why do you feel so good around my cock y/n?” He asks but you don't dare respond. He smirks, grinding himself into you. “You take directions s-so well. So… obedient.” He whispers.
You can hear how he's losing his control. His composure has melted away and he no longer looks calm and collected. He looks like a man high on sex and chasing the release that's within reach.
“Y/n… fuck. Tell me, can I cum inside you? Will you let me fill you? Use your words beautiful.” He nips your neck just below your ear and you tremble.
“Yes. You can,” You bite your lip again to hold back what would've been a loud gasp when the train jerks Chris forward causing his cock to slam into your sensitive cunt. “You can cum inside. I'm so close Chris.”
“Then cum baby. Fucking cream on it y/n. Shit, so good.
Hearing him lose himself like that is your undoing and you're falling apart around him. The air becomes heavy with the heady scent of arousal, thick and intoxicating, swirling around you and Chris like a seductive veil. Each breath is laced with the taste of pleasure. Time seems to stand still as you stare at him. Eyes wide as you breathe through your nose squeezing your lips shut tight desperate to make no sound at all. Your cunt convulses around his cock begging to milk it of every drop.
The aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper. His own orgasm right at the edge. His arm tightens around you, hugging you closer to him. his breath becomes shallow and erratic as he reaches his climax.
“Fuck, fuck.” He whispers and he bites down hard on your neck over your fast pulsating pulse, sucking your flesh to keep himself from telling you how you belong to him now.
He bites you to keep the grunts and praises from tumbling out of his mouth uncontrollably. Because something about you makes him lose control. He doesn't do shit like this. He's careful, always planning and thinking things out. He just doesn't do spontaneity. He didn't plan this, it just happened. You just bulldozed into his life and he can’t get enough. What is it about you that makes him desire this cunt he's currently filling to the brim that he craves to make sore and swollen with his cock until the sun rises? Whatever it is, he's already addicted. He needs you in his own space, tied up nice and pretty like a gift only for him to unwrap. Fuck. He's already thinking of all the positions he'd have you in if you were at his place.
You watch in awe at how intense and irresistible he looks while he spills himself inside of you. His eyes hold so much power over you. You feel the weight of his possessiveness in his unwavering stare and it excites you immensely. You find yourself thinking of asking him to come back to your place where you'd be free to move around, cry his name out without anyone around. You're curious how sex with Chris would be in a more relaxed setting. If this orgasm was intense you can't imagine how it would feel when he isn't holding back.
He slowly pulls out of you, fixing himself as best as he can and then fixes your skirt back in place. He places a sweet kiss to the back of your head, chest still rapidly rising and falling. When you blush he chuckles.
“You're a cutie y/n. After all that, you blush from a kiss. So adorable.” He murmurs and you shift your feet. “If we don't get off soon I'll end up going for another round if you keep that up.”
You giggle and look back at him, “Sorry, I'll behave.” You sweetly say.
“What if I don't want you to?” He says instantly.
You blink at him, your face reflecting shock in the glass, and he chuckles. “To be honest with you y/n, I'd love to see you again if you'd let me.”
“Me? Seriously?” You whisper in disbelief.
“Of course. Preferably somewhere less crowded. I think after today I'll be just a little claustrophobic.”
You laugh and even after what just happened you can't believe how incredible of a guy he is. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you while you laugh.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a beautiful laugh y/n?” He whispers and you shake your head. “Why does something as simple as hearing you laugh make me so hard? What have you done to me?”
A shiver of pleasure runs through your body and he exhales quietly.
“I'd fuck you again right now if we weren't about to stop.” He tells you followed by the robotic female voice informing everyone to wait until the train comes to a complete stop and the doors open.
As the subway doors slide open, Chris grabs your hand and pulls you through them, dodging the rush of commuters that are eager to go home. With ease he leads you away from the hooded creep that's desperate to find you, vanishing into the shadows behind a massive pillar. You peek out from behind Chris who scans the area cautiously. When the man doesn't see you he hops back on the train, disappointment evident on his face but relief floods over you. Glad that's over.
"Thank you Chris." you say, sending a quick text to your best friend for a ride. “For saving me I mean.”
"It was my pleasure, y/n." he replies smoothly, grinning at you, his gaze lingering on your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "Anytime you need saving, or anything really just give me a shout, yeah?" He hands you a sleek black business card with fancy gold letters.
Maybe you will call him, because you really can't imagine that you'll get the memory of how he felt inside of you out of your mind. Besides, he made it very clear he wanted to see you again and how could you turn a man like Chris down?
After saying goodbye when your bestie arrives, you watch Chris walk away in the side mirror as the car eases into traffic. Glancing at the card in your hand, you see it reads "Chris Bang, CEO and Co-owner of CBO," and you feel a wave of shock and mortification wash over you.
“Who was that hottie?” Your friend asks bobbing her head along to the radio when she stops at a red light.
“My new boss…” You say, still feeling his warm cum still inside of you.
“Also... what the hell happened to your neck?”
#bang chan#stray kids bang chan#bang chan stray kids#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan x female reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#skz bang chan#bang chan skz#bang chan hard thoughts#bang chan hard hours#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan fanfic#bang chan imagines#bang chan oneshot#bang chan scenarios#skz smut#bang chan au#bang chan drabbles#cb97#chan skz#chan stray kids#chan smut#skz hard hours#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x you#skz fanfic#skz chan smut
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bodyguard: the first guard | part two | chan/reader
masterlist.
(part one of the previous story.)
part one | part two | part three | tba
( read on AO3 )
A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh's daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.
pairing: bang chan/reader
content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. the previously established story dyanmics: explicit violence, mentions of torture, death.
chapter word count: 12,000 words.
-
B E F O R E
Felix is wearing itchy civilian clothes, the jeans distractingly stiff. Regardless of how many field missions he is assigned, he never gets used to undercover disguises.
“Look what I found,” Chris says, dropping into the seat beside him.
Chris looks marginally more at ease in his baggy basketball shorts and baseball cap, passing for a teenage boy on an afternoon train with his friend. They are in the passenger car outside the first class cabin, a compartment that should contain their mark but presently sits empty.
“Uh, the target?" Felix asks. “You know, the thing you just went to find?”
Chris giggles like the whole situation is funny. Felix is far less amused. This should have been an easy job: get in, kill the mark, steal back the data he took from Miroh, and get out. But so far it has been tedious.
Felix can’t even blame Chris this time. For some reason, Chris has been more accommodating lately. Chris is fifteen, almost sixteen, and Felix is twelve. They have both been active in the field for a couple years. Felix is not sure why Chris has opted for sudden compliance. He does not necessarily volunteer for jobs but he accepts them without much grudging reluctance. He will occasionally voice his worser grievances but for the most part he is keeping his head down.
Maybe it is the result of all those punishing sentences in the Cell. More than once he has been shoved down there, sometimes alone and sometimes with Miroh’s daughter. Felix would not want to spend any isolated time with her. But maybe she is intimidating enough to get through to Chris.
Whatever it is, it is working. Excluding moments like this when Chris is giggling and distracted and doesn’t seem to care about the job at all.
“Relax, Felix,” Chris says. “It’s a train. There’s only so many places he can be, yeah?”
“Well, there’s one place he’s supposed to be but he isn’t there, is he?” Felix says.
“Lighten up, mate,” Chris says. “We’re supposed to look normal. Normal kids have fun.”
Chris dumps a candy bag in Felix’s lap. Felix looks at it like it’s a bomb.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Felix asks.
Chris opens his own bag and starts eating the candy.
“That,” he says. He tosses a piece in the air and catches it in his mouth. When he tries to do it again, Felix snatches it mid-air and throws it on the floor. This makes Chris laugh.
“He was in the dining car,” Chris relents. “Four security officers. Ex-military. Piece of cake.”
“Why didn’t you say that before?” Felix asks, annoyed. He starts to stand but Chris yanks him back into his seat.
“The hell, man?” Chris says. “You gonna go ventilate the guy while a bunch of civilians are having afternoon tea? Ya think that might blow our cover? Just a bit?”
Felix frowns but he knows Chris is right. Miroh does not like a public mess. They will have to wait until the mark returns to the privacy of his cabin.
Felix does not like waiting. It is a part of a soldier’s training, but his least favourite part by far. He prefers action. With the quiet stillness comes fear, doubt.
The latter makes him sweat. He tries not to think about it. His life is his mission. Through Miroh, Felix has contributed good things to the world. Lately, it just seems like no matter what he does, the world does not stay good.
The Enemy has been dead for two years. The new enemy, his idiot heir, has holed up like a dragon guarding his hoard. He has built defences so high that not even an army like Miroh’s can breach it. There has been no retaliation, no offensive strike like the old enemy, but these deep roots are almost more sinister. Felix is starting to think this might be hopeless. That maybe Miroh is wrong. That maybe some things cannot be saved.
Felix crinkles the candy bag in his lap. He gathers himself and exhales.
“Fine,” he says. “How long do you think he will be distracted? Enough time to get the data?”
“If it’s in there, yeah,” Chris says. “Might as well check. He just started eating so we should have some time.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
Chris frowns like Felix is inconveniencing him with the job they were sent here to do.
Felix is not in the mood to argue. He shoves his candy bag in his back pocket and pushes past Chris. They make their way down the aisle. No one lifts their head, the two boys disappearing in their inconspicuous disguises.
They pick the lock to the first class cabin. Felix opens the door and looks around the room, for a moment a little stupefied by the luxury. It is all deep mahogany and gold trim. Their target is an engineer who stole designs from Miroh to sell to the enemy. The wealth of this cabin exemplifies that corruption, surely.
Felix tells himself that as he rifles through the luggage. He finds a laptop and tells Chris to stand guard while he collects the data. Chris is the better fighter but Felix is better with technology.
The laptop loads. The home screen is the mark with his family, three smiling, sunny-faced children, all younger than Felix. It gives him a queasy, uneasy feeling, a feeling that should be long scrubbed out of him by now.
He blames it on the rocking of the train carriage. Physical sensations can manipulate mental energy.
He searches through the computer storage for the stolen designs. Both Miroh and the enemy are chasing government building contracts, tying their businesses irrevocably to political power and pursing relationships therein. These plans will cinch the deal for whichever party has them. The engineer who betrayed Miroh masqueraded as a potential recruit before stealing the plans.
There is only one problem; Felix knows how to read metadata and he cannot find anything that was once on Miroh’s servers. In fact, some of these designs go back years, well before Miroh even considered pursuing these contracts.
“What’s taking so long?” Chris asks, poking his head in the room. “You’re usually a computer whiz. Is something wrong?”
“The files aren’t here,” Felix says. For the fifth or sixth time, he opens what looks like the plans. Everything except the metadata matches the description. But that metadata does not lie.
These files do not belong to Miroh.
Chris double checks the corridor before joining Felix. They look at the files together.
“Isn’t that it?” Chris asks. “It looks like the right thing.”
“Yeah, but it’s not,” Felix says, his eyes darting frantically all over the screen. “Or it should be. But these, uh, these files aren’t Miroh’s.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean this guy stole the plans from Miroh. But all these files are original. They were never on Miroh’s servers.”
There is a moment of quiet. Chris is not famous for reservation so Felix looks at him. He is embarrassed to find a pitying look on Chris’s face.
“Felix,” Chris says. “Come on, man.”
It is not exactly a condescending tone, rife with too much sympathy to be so cruel, but It sounds like Chris is saying, don’t be stupid.
Felix swallows. He looks down at the plans. The realization hits him and the words come to his mouth, rising like bile.
“We’re not stealing back the plans,” Felix says. “We’re just stealing them. Aren’t we?”
“Well, yeah,” Chris says. “You didn’t know that?”
“How did you know that?” Felix snaps back, embarrassed and upset and very, deeply confused.
“It wasn’t exactly a stretch,” Chris says. “It’s what Miroh does. It’s what they all do. You haven’t figured that out yet? You?”
Felix, who has done the most assignments. Felix, who is the most successful agent in the special-ops program. Felix, who is the best only because the real best refuses to be.
He studies Chris, this older boy who seems so confident he has all the answers. Felix does not even know all the questions. He feels that weakness and vulnerability he so hates, the entirely world suddenly unfamiliar enemy terrain.
“Look, it’s fine,” Chris says. “Just take the data and we’ll leave. We’ll tell Miroh the mark got away. He cares more about the plans anyway.”
“Lie,” Felix says. “You want us to lie to Miroh?”
“It’s not a lie,” Chris says. “It’s just protecting the truth.”
Felix stares at him. Chris, on steadier feet than Felix, sighs and pushes Felix out of the way. He loads the data onto the external hard drive himself. He then makes a show of ejecting it and putting it in his pocket.
“Let’s go,” Chris says.
Felix does not get a chance to protest because the door opens. They have no time to react. In seconds, they are joined by the mark’s security team.
Felix knows how to fight. It is second nature to him. He should not need to think.
But he does. He overthinks. He gets a look at the mark before a bodyguard whisks him away. Felix thinks of the smiling faces on those children. He thinks how he is not much older than them.
There is a growing pit of anxiety inside him. It swallows him whole.
Felix and Chris fight to get away. Chris could take all these guards on his own but he is trying to avoid severely hurting them. That distracts Felix too. Suddenly, Chris’s refusal to fight does not seem like cowardice but instead it is something Felix cannot name. Something he once saw in Miroh but doesn’t anymore.
Distracted, Felix does not fight like he usually does.
The first class cabin is a private attachment at the back of the train. The fight lead onto the outside landing at the end of the car. A guard dislocates Felix’s shoulder. The next thing Felix knows, he is tumbling over the railing. He manages to grip with his good arm, holding all of his body weight to avoid getting snagged and ripped along the train tracks.
But it won’t save him. He’s going to die. The realization hits him like any other calculation in a fight, when he measures his odds and deduces his best move.
He has none. The train is moving too fast and he is at a bad angle to jump. He has one good arm keeping him alive and no way to fight the approaching guard. Chris has taken out his own adversaries and should be retreating with the data. That is what they are trained to do. The job is more important than the soldier. In a crisis, you leave the weak behind.
Felix braces himself to let go, hoping the above-average strength in his body can also withstand slamming into railroad tracks at high speeds. He suspects even if he does survive, he will be severely injured, abandoned in the middle of nowhere, and dead to the only place he has ever known.
But the guard falls back. Chris knocks him out with sharp efficiency. He then lays the unconscious man down with almost comical gentleness.
Chris runs up to Felix. Felix wants to shout at him – everything from go away and finish the job to my shoulder hurts and I need you to save me.
Chris gives no opportunity for argument or acquiescence. He shouts, “Hold on!” Then he swings himself over the railing. He wraps an arm around Felix and hauls him into his side. Once secure, he carries them back over the rail and onto the landing.
“What are you doing?” Felix asks. He cannot slow the race of his heart, seemingly tethered to the thunder of the train car against the tracks. He is not sure it will ever slow again. He thinks he might remember this moment forever.
“What am I doing?” Chris asks. He laughs for some forsaken reason. “Just doing this, mate,” he says.
He seizes Felix by his injured shoulder. Felix winces, having only seconds to brace himself before Chris shoves his dislocated shoulder back into place. Agony washes over Felix, hot and sharp, the pain rattling him worse than the actual dislocation.
“Sorry,” Chris says. “Sometimes getting better hurts more for a bit.”
The rest of the mission is a blur to Felix, lost to the throbbing ache in his shoulder and a similar pain taking root inside him.
They make it back to Miroh’s facility. Chris hands the hard drive off to an upper level agent while Felix sees a medic. The bag of candy is still in his back pocket. He sits in the infirmary a long time, just crinkling it between his fingers. He feels like his world is crashing around him.
It is days before Felix has an opportunity to see Chris again. They are in different barracks because of their age difference, the soldiers grouped by year. When Felix finds Chris in the corridor, Chris is talking to Miroh’s daughter who lives in the barracks too. They are on their way to their bunks.
Felix taps Chris on the shoulder. Chris looks at him, his laughing expression faltering when he sees Felix. He must see something in him that Felix cannot even recognize in himself.
Chris turns to Miroh’s daughter and says, “I’ll catch up, yeah?”
She spares Felix a glance and Felix feels an unusually panicked skip in his blood. It feels like she can see his mental turbulation the way Chris can. But unlike the rest of them, she has a direct line to Miroh. She might live and act like a soldier but she is more and always will be. Felix balks under her scrutiny, worried she will see his doubt and report it right back to Miroh.
Felix is grateful when she leaves. But when Chris looks at him so expectantly, Felix no longer knows what to say.
It takes a moment.
“I wouldn’t have done the same for you,” Felix finally says. It comes out as instinctively as a punch. “I wouldn’t have saved your life. I would have just finished the job.”
Chris blinks at him. He exhales on a laugh. Then he claps Felix’s good shoulder, a touch of clear camaraderie.
“I know, Felix,” he says. “I didn’t do it so you would pay me back. I didn’t do it because I thought you would do the same. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”
Felix thought he was speechless before but now he is truly at a loss. Even his long engrained instincts fail. He is out of punches.
Chris just smiles at his confusion. With one final nod, he turns and retreats to his bunk.
Felix stands in the corridor, wounded but bandaged. He stares at the place where Chris stood, like if he looks long enough then Felix will understand what Chris understands. That maybe there is a right and wrong outside of what they have been taught. Maybe things exist outside of this place.
Maybe some things can be saved.
-
P R E S E N T D A Y
“Ah, it’s the classic story,” Changbin says with a sigh. “A boy and a girl, forced to share a bed. He is her bodyguard. She is an heiress. Should we kiss on the lips?”
You whack him in the gut with a pillow and he erupts with giggles.
Changbin has been your so-called bodyguard for a few weeks now. It has changed little in your daily routine as your father had assigned Changbin to your department sometime before that. The special-ops program was written off as an experiment with potential for future development, though that development has long sat arrested. Bang Chan is in your father’s direct employ while Changbin has been on different teams fulfilling different missions. When you started taking the lead on projects, he served under your direction.
It is why your father is not happy. The bodyguard arrangement was meant to assert his control over you, using an agent as his eyes and hands. Miroh is not good at relinquishing power, not even to someone like him, or maybe especially to someone like him. You have always been a good, loyal, obedient soldier and daughter. Taking over projects and assuming command was inevitable. Somehow you have wronged him by doing everything right.
Lately, your work has been meagre clean-up duty. Miroh has been accruing assets and terrorizing his way into the mess left behind by his late enemy. It is making Miroh’s paranoia even worse. He has seen for himself how this powerful house fell apart just because its patriarch died. The business was left in shambles, underlings squabbling like helpless children. It was ripe for picking.
You have been cleaning whatever mess is left behind. This week you have been cleaning out some old office buildings, primarily sifting through abandoned storage for anything useful that might have been sequestered. You are spending the night at a nearby safe house, sharing a room with Changbin. The rest of your team is scattered around the house.
Seeing as your father has relegated you with menial tasks, you have taken it upon yourself to conduct your own investigations. Your findings have been on your mind all day. It is why you do not respond to Changbin’s joking with your usual wit.
“You’re quiet, murder princess,” Changbin says. “Should I be worried?”
He drops his mask on the nearby desk then unholsters his gun. He places it beside yours. It is a testament to your dynamic that you feel comfortable disarming around each other. You would certainly never do it around your father. But Changbin is different. You are not someone who seeks true friendship but you acknowledge the necessity of teamwork especially in times of crisis. You do not fully trust Changbin as you do not fully trust anyone, but he is loyal and you reciprocate that dependability.
It is why you beckon him forward. You are sitting on the bed, feet on the floor. Changbin pulls up a chair to sit in front of you.
“The enemy had a multi-level security system,” you say. “Physical in some capacities, digital in others. My father has always been more preoccupied with offense than defense, so in that regard they were always a step ahead of us. That is the part my father is interested in. That is all he sees.”
“And what do you see?” Changbin asks. His disposition changes with the severity of your words, joviality replaced with equal seriousness.
“I don’t see anything,” you say. “That’s the problem.”
He lifts an eyebrow, curious. You show him the image on your tablet, then swipe to the next one.
“The security log is missing information,” you say. “There is no trace of anything unusual transpiring the day they were all killed. No breach, no shutdown. Everything is normal until everything is gone. Someone scrubbed every last second of data from the digital system. Someone who knew the system well enough to not just delete the surface files but to clean the server entirely.”
“So what are you saying?” Changbin asks. “You think it was an inside job?”
“I know it wasn’t us,” you reply. “I know it wasn’t any of the usual players. This family had enemies in every market. If it was one of them, you’d think they would have stepped forward to assert themselves by now. Whoever it was had no interest in taking over company assets. No interest in even sticking around. Someone went to great lengths to make the entire thing look ambiguous, to leave everyone asking more questions, to turn our heads in one direction while they disappear in the other. Someone professional. Someone technologically capable. Someone whose only motivation was escape.”
His jaw is clenched as he stares at the images, but you can see the gears turning in his mind. When he meets your gaze, you sit forward.
“Changbin,” you say. “What happened on that mission?”
He does not need specification. Changbin is usually like you, pragmatic and realistic. He does not dwell in his emotions and never for so long. It has been well over a month now but he is still rankled by that warehouse confrontation with Lee Felix.
“Ah, Yongbok,” Changbin says wistfully. His eyes are downturned but his thoughts are somewhere else. “You remember him. He always needed a fairy tale to believe in.”
That much is true. You and Changbin have always been simple soldiers manoeuvring through the morally complicated world around you. You never had any delusions that Miroh was better than his enemies, simply that one or the other was inevitable. You knew you could make a bigger impact in the fight than watching from the sidelines.
Felix was competent but naïve. He believed in Miroh unequivocally which is why he blind-sided them all with his betrayal. To this day, you do not know why he joined the enemy, nor why he stayed.
It makes sense he might have naively devoted himself to a different cause.
“What fairy tale was that?” you ask. “The enemy?”
“Chris.” Changbin looks at you beneath the sweep of his dark bangs. His smile is wry. “He asked me about Chris.”
You blink back at him, surprised by the answer. After stumbling over any number of replies, you say, “That wasn’t in your initial report.”
“It didn’t seem important,” Changbin says with a shrug.
“You have a responsibility to report back everything—”
“Yes, commander,” he says dryly. He slumps in his seat and crosses his arms. “Does it matter now? I told him Chris was dead.”
Not a lie, in a way. Bang Chan was a rebellious subject in his youth, nothing like the merciless soldier he is now. The inhuman machine was wrought through inhumane treatment. You were not privy to the grittier details nor have you ever felt an inclination to investigate. You do not need knowledge of the gruesome torture that was administered. The results are the same: the rebellious boy died. He has been gone ever since he was dragged into a basement room for correction.
“Chris,” you say. The name sits heavy on your tongue. “Why would he want to know about Chris?”
“The better question is, why didn’t he want to know about me?” Changbin retorts. It sounds like a joke, his tone jumping back into comically exaggerated hysterics. But there is a tension in his shoulders that was not there before. “You know he didn’t even recognize me? Ah! The little brat! I knew him too! I wasn’t Bang Chan, no one was … But I was there. Forgetting me… We’re all that’s left!”
You tilt your head and study Changbin, as if there are more answers in his face than in his words. Your gaze drifts to the scar by his eye. He got hit today, taking a swipe meant for you. Other adversaries have sent agents to scour the late enemy’s business remains, but they are no match for soldiers of Miroh.
Changbin joked he was being a good bodyguard. In truth, he is a good bodyguard. Your security team is competent but nothing compared to him. It has made a difference, having someone so reliable at your back, even though it has painted a target on his. Your father is not happy Changbin outsmarted him. Changbin jokes about it, as he is wont to do, claiming he can’t wait for a pummelling of his own. He is probably right. Miroh has been quiet about the bodyguard assignment but that does not mean he has surrendered. He is a strategist. He is patient if it means results.
Raising children into soldiers is a testament to that patience. You look at Changbin, arguably the last true survivor other than yourself.
We’re all that’s left.
You find yourself reaching for him. It is not like you, but lately everything seems out of character. You touch his face, drawn to that scar, a scar that should be yours. You touch it very lightly.
When you meet his eyes, he is looking at you strangely. You are not a famously affectionate character, not even with him. You rip your hand back and shake your head.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, more curious than accusatory.
“Nothing,” you say. “I mean – well.” You scrub a hand over your face. The weeks have healed the worst of your injuries, but it is still littered with scars, including the ones Changbin gave you.
His eyes linger there before he sighs and drops his head. He rubs his face too.
“We’ll talk later,” you say, suddenly feeling the weight of today, not to mention the accumulative exhaustion of the days before. “It’s been a long day.” An understatement.
Changbin doesn’t argue. You separate to use the facilities and dress down for rest. You sleep in sweatpants and a t-shirt, your weapons and shoes not far. The one bed has plenty of space. You lay down first, certain that your mind is running too fast to rest, but all that exhaustion catches up to you.
You wake some time in the middle of the night. When Changbin gets out of bed, the dip and rise of the mattress stirs you. You blink awake, watching him amble over to the window. There is a cushioned seat and he plops down, his arms crossed and his eyes on the stars.
You wonder if you look that young out of combat clothes. His hair is ruffled and the black t-shirt and pants are comfortably fitted. His face looks vulnerable and open as he stares into the night.
“You’re awake too,” he says, not looking at you.
“Obviously,” you reply. You push yourself upright. “You woke me.”
“Sorry,” he says, trying to flash you one of his jovial grins but barely managing.
“You look tired,” you say.
“Thanks,” he replies with a laugh.
“You should go back to sleep.”
“I’m on bodyguard duty,” he jokes, gesturing to you. “I need to make sure no one murders the murder princess.”
You give him a dry look that makes him giggle. Naturally his humour returns at your expense. He really is the little brother you never had.
You slide off the bed and join him at the window seat. You shove and kick like bickering children until you are comfortably settled. You sit with your legs curled up to your chest, mirror images of each other. He looks out the window and you look at him.
“What are you thinking about?” you ask.
“Nothing,” he says, an automatic response. Then he shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know, princess,” he says. “I don’t think you’ll understand.”
“What makes you say that?” You cannot help but feel offended even if he is probably right. You do not have heart-to-hearts, which is what this feels like, a quiet moment carved out of chaos. If everything was different, you would just be two friends talking about your normal lives.
Your life is anything but normal.
“I know you,” he answers, simple and confident. “I know who you are. Even when – well, no matter what happens, I guess.”
“Well,” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, “that makes one of us.”
You swallow your thoughts quickly. Your innermost turmoil cannot be entrusted with anyone. It is dangerous to even think such weakness, never mind vocalize it.
Changbin looks at you with a pinch in his brow. You look away, up at the sky. You wonder about the vantage from the stars, seeing the bigger picture of your life. Your pain and sacrifices have to be worth something. Miroh always said the world was full of shadows, dark spots no regular person could clean. He was right about that. He is definitely one of them, but sometimes only darkness can fight darkness. Or so you thought. All this business with the enemy has changed things. That darkness collapsed in on itself like a black hole, taking everything with it.
“It used to be easier, didn’t it?” Changbin asks. “Just doing what you’re told… You can tell yourself it’s not your fault, that it would have happened anyway… Maybe I was believing in fairy tales too.”
You look at each other. He just sighs.
“A part of me feels like I never grew up,” he says. “I’ve always been what I am. Maybe it’s time to stop.”
“That sounds a lot like treason,” you say, realizing how dramatic it sounds after the fact. Miroh is a businessman and this company is not a country. And yet treasonous is what it feels like, a deep betrayal to the place that raised and shaped you into what you are. It feels like treachery to even think about abandoning it after everything.
“Maybe it does,” he says. He gives you another wry smile, flicking his bangs out of his face. “Does it matter? He already wants my beautiful head off its beautiful shoulders.”
“You shouldn’t be saying this to me,” you say. You’re Miroh’s daughter. Your relationship with your father might be fraught, but your loyalty is to this house and always has been. It is the only constant in this tumultuous, violent world.
“Are you gonna tell on me?” Changbin teases, so unserious on such a deathly serious matter. He just laughs at your silent but intense stare. He shakes his head as he looks out the window. “I don’t worry about that.”
“About what?”
“You telling on me.”
That stops your heart faster than the treason.
“Why not?” you ask slowly, as if you are wary of a trap about to spring.
Changbin puts a hand in his hair, shaking out his ruffled bangs. He looks normal but also not, his strong body so clearly built for violence. It is why you are shocked when he reaches out, when he touches you like you touched him, an undemanding press of his fingers along a scar.
Your startled eyes find his. It splits your focus. You see Changbin right now, older, stronger. You also see him younger, thinner, looking at you with concerned eyes as he wipes blood off your brow.
You blink again and it is just him as he is now.
He drops his hand.
“You don’t trust anyone,” he says. “I know. Ha! I really know.” He swings around, planting his feet on the ground. He reaches into his pocket then flicks open a pocketknife.
It should make your heart palpitate, a soldier with a weapon in your proximity, especially when you are unarmed. But there is no rush of blood, no fear, no worry. You just look at him, seeing all of him, young and old. You realize there has been more than one constant in your life.
The knife catches a glint of starlight, a flash of light in the darkness.
“You and I are the same, aren’t we, murder princess?” he says. “But also not. You were raised in the pen with us but it was never the same. We’re just animals to him. Raised to the slaughter, ha! But not you. One way or another, you’re going to be someone.”
You watch as he lifts his hand. He curls and uncurls a fist. He looks down at his palm.
“When it happens,” Changbin says, “Because it will happen, tomorrow or in a month or a year or whenever Miroh decides… But when I go like the rest of them… When it’s just you and you’re trying to decide who you want to be, not who your father wants you to be… When you’re trying to remember everything and you can’t decide what was real and what was just training and what was Miroh…”
He draws a slow slice across his hand, not so deep to be detrimental to his grip, but enough to draw blood in a long, thin line. You look at this small scar as if it the deepest wound you have ever encountered.
“Just… remember me,” he says. “I didn’t bleed because I believe in Miroh. I’m your soldier, not his.”
You are at a loss for words. You do not think there are any words, none that you were raised to know. You can only stare at the little trickle of blood as it runs down his wrist and drips onto the floor.
You have always felt very alone. You learned to thrive in that solitude. Even clinging to the hope of your father’s approval proved exhausting and useless. You accepted your high promontory was a lonely one.
Not even that solitude compares to the idea of Changbin gone. Even if you go weeks without seeing him, he is out there somewhere. You both keep your heads down, get the job done. Not the best soldiers, not the worst, but the ones still here.
You let instinct override your senses for the second time that night. When he makes to stand, your reflexes snap into action. You grab him by the arm and snatch the knife. He has no time to respond, watching as you slice a similar scar on your own palm.
Your eyes meet. You are unflinching, more resolute than ever. You clasp his hand and the blood smears in a signifying pact that needs no other words.
Only when the moment settles do you say, “You’re not a half-bad bodyguard.”
His laughter comes to him slowly, none of that empty joviality but a genuine burst of it. His eyes crinkle and his smiles widens and the laughter bubbles out of him.
“I’m the best bodyguard,” he says. “And don’t you ever fucking forget it.”
-
In the light of day, last night’s whirlwind of dramatic emotions feel tempered. You and Changbin are able to conduct yourselves with a proper degree of soldiership. Though his words and your promise are in the back of your mind, you put it away for now.
You dress in combat gear and pack your bags for another day of infiltration, investigation, and clean-up. It is hard to say how easy or difficult the day will be. If you encounter other agents, the confrontation could complicate things, but sometimes that is better than a long day with no interesting discoveries at all.
The enemy had properties scattered all over town, some active and some not. This particular office building is a very old one, seemingly long since abandoned and turned into company storage. Some of these boxes have not been touched in decades, perhaps remnants of the business as run by the previous generation.
A thick layer of dust coats the desks and boxes. At least your masks are put to work, filtering the dusty air as you trail through the building.
“Yahhh,” Changbin whines, flicking some papers off a desk. “Today’s going to be boring.”
“Yup,” you say in accord. There is no way anyone else will be here. You doubt there is anything of value to be discovered, but Miroh will harass you if you do not complete his missions as outlined. With so much tension between you already, it is better to keep your head down and complete the menial tasks, even if it is blatant busy work.
A few of your officers are sent ahead to sweep the building. It is not a towering skyscraper but several tall floors nonetheless. Your subordinates take different floors while you and Changbin take an upper level. You begin the tedious task of rifling through the abandoned documentation.
“I’m a supersoldier, not a secretary,” Changbin gripes, moving boxes with more force than necessary.
“You’re not a supersoldier,” you say without looking up from your work. “There’s no such thing.”
“I’m pretty close,” he says, flexing and kissing his bicep.
“When you start flying, maybe I’ll consider it,” you retort, dryly.
“All right, I’m not a supersoldier,” he says. He takes off his mask to grin at you. “But I am super good looking.”
You take off your own mask to throw at him like a projectile. He squeals and ducks, then proceeds to cuss you out for the next few minutes while you smile.
Eventually he takes a seat. He props his booted feet up on a desk while sorting through some papers with absent-minded perusal.
“So tell me again about the security log,” Changbin says, evidently growing bored within minutes.
You can hardly blame him. It is why you are about to reply, but your thoughts are quickly obliterated. Gunfire reverberates in the nearby stairwell, followed by shouting and thumping. Seconds later, your warning pagers are vibrating. Your officers’ voices come through the communications software.
“Hostile enemy agents breached ground zero,” they say. “Be ready for confrontation.”
You and Changbin spring into action. Your masks are unfortunately abandoned, too far to grab in a rush thanks to your shenanigans, but your bags and weapons are within reach. You swing them on and arm yourselves, racing into the corridor to join the rest of your team.
It happens very fast. One moment, this ancient building is nothing more than a dilapidated office from a bygone era, brimming with useless nothings that no one would want. The next moment, it is overflowing with enemy agents, pouring in one after the other.
You and Changbin join the other officers in the stairwell. None of you are prepared for the sight that greets you, the sheer number of adversaries that come streaming into the building at rapid speed.
“What the fuck,” you say, realizing far too late you cannot take this many agents. You have not had anything near this problem before.
You look at Changbin, both of you shooting uselessly to stop the encroach of hostiles.
“We need to retreat,” you say in unison. You nod at each other.
The message gets passed along the communicators. There is no way to escape through the ground floor, the enemy agents chasing you up the stairwell. You take out your phone to call for back-up, relaying the message directly to Miroh’s team leaders.
“Can you at all identify the hostiles?” the man asks.
“Do we know who they are?” you shout at Changbin over the gunfire and chaos.
“Ah, well they’re not friends!” he replies.
You pause in your ascent to squint down at the approaching horde. The uniform colours are familiar at a glance, but the dog tags confirm your suspicions. It locks you in place with shock and confusion, because there is no way that makes any sense.
These agents belong to the enemy. The enemy. It explains the numbers, as only that house could rival Miroh in terms of size and numbers. But it is not possible he is conducting an offensive attack because he’s dead and his business is in shambles. There is no one to conduct an operation on his behalf. It makes no sense.
Changbin grabs you by the back of the neck, hauling you up the stairs with him.
“Not the time to stop and smell the flowers, murder princess,” he says.
“It’s the enemy,” you say. “I don’t know how or why, but it’s them.”
“We’re sending a back-up team straight to you right now,” Miroh’s leader says.
You end the call to focus on your surroundings, confusing and chaotic as they are.
You watch as several of your officers are taken down. You wince at each reverberation of a gunshot that kills them. A dozen more faces flash in front of your eyes, every child in that program with you, every enemy you have killed on Miroh’s behalf. Chris. Felix. Changbin, young, small, looking at you with concern.
The reign of fire follows you. You think you will be hearing gunshots for days.
“Get her out,” one of your officer’s says into the comms, directed at Changbin. “Leave through the roof. We’ll hold them off.”
You trip running up the stairs.
You never trip, far more coordinated than the average soldier. But you hear your officer say that and your mind’s eye is overwhelmed with the image of them dying. Because that is what will happen. You should not be bothered by it. You can train a new security team. They exist for this exact reason.
But all their faces are flashing in front of your mind. Your team, the program soldiers, the First Guard. A thunderous pain rattles down your spine, a cry leaving your lips as you are inundated with visions of death that you suddenly cannot shake.
“Up, up!” Changbin shouts, hoisting you onto your feet. “You’re better than this!”
He’s right. You are a soldier. You trained for this. You were made to fight.
You push through the pain and thunder. You get your feet back under you. You race with Changbin to the roof and trust your team to do what is best.
You slam and bolt the door behind you. You look around for something to barricade it but there is nothing. Changbin meanwhile opens his pack and takes out the rappel line and harness. You have had little use for it on most of the assignments, but it is standard tactical gear when assigned any investigation or clean-up work, as it can require getting into locked areas through sky access. You almost left them behind today, knowing the building was abandoned and you would have no difficulty getting in. You are glad you decided against that.
“Here,” Changbin says, handing you the harness. “Put this on.” He ducks back down to finish securing the line on the edge of the roof.
“They’re not gonna be able to hold them,” you say, fitting the harness around yourself. It is second-nature. You hardly need to think, fastening every buckle as you stare at that closed door. “They’ll be on us in seconds,” you say. “They’ll just follow us over the roof on the line.” You grant your odds are better on the street, that you can endeavour an escape, but that is only if you get that far. Those enemy agents are going to blast down that door like it’s made of cardboard, then they will be on you.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, your adrenaline propelling every breath. You do not have time to think twice. It is why it takes you so long to notice that Changbin has not put on a harness.
“What are you doing?” you ask when he stands, completely unprepared to rappel down the building. “We have to go! Put your harness on, idiot!”
He takes the hook and locks it onto your harness, fastening it with a few skilled flicks of his fingers. You grab his hand, stopping him.
He takes a breath and finally meets your eye. The wind blows his dark bangs across his face, opening up his expression to you. You can feel the furious scrunch of your own features go lax. Just like that, your adrenaline dwindles, all that heat turning to an ice cold block in your chest. It drops to your gut.
“Changbin,” you start.
“You’re going to go down that line,” he says. “When you’re at the bottom, I’m going to cut it so they can’t follow you. It will buy you time to get to the vehicles and get away.”
“Absolutely not,” you say. “What the fuck are you thinking? You—”
“I’m your bodyguard,” he says with that wry smile. “This is my job. Let me do it.”
“No,” you say, struggling against him. You try to unhook the rappel line but he fights back, not your usual play-fighting but deadly serious. “You can’t be serious!” you shout. “We’re the same thing! If you’re staying and fighting then I’m joining you!”
“We’re not the same thing!” he shouts back. “You’re a Miroh! You need to get out of here!”
“You’re right, I am a Miroh!” you say. “It’s me they want anyway! You put on the harness! You can still get out of here!”
“I’m not leaving here without you!”
You want to reply. The words are right on your lips: I’m not leaving here without you either.
But before you can say them, all that thunderous pain fractures your vision again. Your focus splits. You see Changbin in front of you, dressed in his combat gear with the wind in his hair.
Then everything changes.
The sunny sky darkens and the rooftop disappears. You see the colour grey. It is all around you, halfway blinding you, filling your lungs so you can hardly breathe. You blink rapidly, as if that will clear your vision, but it is just more grey and the sound of faraway voices.
Then you see Changbin again, in his combat gear but years younger. Just a teenager, all skinny cheeks and sharp angles. There is no wind in his hair. There is no wind anywhere. He is bleeding profusely from a head wound, a stark slash of red in the middle of so much grey. He says your name. You hear your own voice but it is a foggy, faraway thing. You cannot make out what you are saying. When you look down, you cannot see your body. You can only see him. You can only hear him.
“I’m not leaving here without you,” he says.
Then you are abruptly yanked out of that grey. You are back on the rooftop in the sunshine. Changbin has his hand planted on your chest, securing the last piece of the harness. You hear the thud of someone kicking at the bolted door. You look there frantically. Changbin does too. Then you look at each other.
“I told you I was the best bodyguard ever,” he says, smiling.
He whips off his glove, revealing his freshly scarred hand. He grabs your bare hand, the one with the still-tender scar. He clasps your hands together and looks at you with a desperation you have never seen before, like he is trying to tell you a thousand things with just a glance.
Then he slowly lets go of your hand.
“Sorry I can’t fly,” he says.
He shoves the middle of your chest, hard. You go tumbling over the edge of the roof just as the enemy agents break the door down.
There is nothing you can do mid-air. You can only shout his name, terrified and furious and desperate all at once. You scream your emotions out until the line comes to an end, a few feet from the ground. You unclip your harness and drop to the ground smoothly.
“Can anyone copy?” you speak into your comm, looking up at the roof helplessly. You watch as an enemy agent swings over and starts to climb down the rope. You draw your gun and brace yourself.
Then Changbin’s head pops over the edge. “Copy,” he says, then cuts the line.
You jump out of the way. Seconds later, the enemy agent comes careening into the ground. The pile of rope lands on top of him.
“Fuck,” you say. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Changbin!” you shout hysterically into your comms. “Changbin, can you copy?”
He doesn’t answer. You run over to the body, searching for something. You don’t even know what, you just know that this whole situation is wrong.
It does not take you long. You roll the body over. Though his neck is now twisted at a fatal angle, you recognize the agent. He was standing in your father’s office just a few weeks ago. His name was Agent Slump. You shot him through the shoulder.
These are not enemy agents attacking the house of Miroh, they are your father’s men attacking you.
You push away from the body, looking frantically up at the roof for any sign of further commotion. You see nothing from this vantage.
You run back into the building. You let adrenaline and instinct carry you up the stairs, taking a few at a time and ignoring the burn in your thighs. This is Miroh, you keep repeating to yourself. Your father has done this. Sending fake enemies after you. Teaching you yet another lesson. You said you could handle yourself. You said your security team could protect you. Now you are running past their dead bodies, your chest heaving from exertion and emotion. You find yourself blinking back tears. You cannot remember the last time you cried.
“Changbin,” you say into your comm, tripping on another step. Your voice comes out of the comms on your dead officers. It echoes in the empty stairwell. “Changbin, answer me, please,” you say. “It’s not the enemy. It’s my father. It’s Miroh. Changbin. Changbin.”
You are halfway up the building when you hear voices below. You stop to listen. Your vibrating phone makes you jump.
“Miss Miroh?” comes a voice, then you see one of your father’s officers at the bottom of the winding stairwell. This one is not playing a part. He is in the standard uniform. There are more officers behind him. The back-up you called like an idiot.
You do not go back down. You drop your phone and race to the roof.
“Get her,” you hear the officer say, then the stairwell is thundering with footsteps as they chase you.
You no longer know what you are doing. You do not know where you are going or what you will find. A part of you is unsurprised when the rooftop is empty, that they got away, that now your father’s men can come in and play hero.
You look around for Changbin but you cannot find him anywhere. You try to tell yourself that is a good thing, that it could be worse, that he could be as dead as your security team, just a body on this roof. You try to tell yourself that he is safe. It was just Miroh. They are probably taking Changbin back to the main facilities right now. Everything will be fine.
Deep down, you know nothing will be fine. Everything has changed.
You hear the officers behind you. You look around. The building next door is too far for a regular person to jump, potentially too far for you to jump. It will be cutting it close, but it is all you have. At this point, you halfway hope you’ll fall and your father’s men will be forced to report they let you die.
You shed the top layer of your combat shirt, getting down to the tank top underneath. You are not sure it will make a difference, but every bit counts. You back up and count a few seconds, then you take a running leap off the roof. You get a grip on the next one, though not without a lot of pain. You grit your teeth and hoist yourself up, ignoring your scraped arms as you take off running. You open a skylight and drop into the building. Another empty corridor stretches in front of you.
You decide your objective it to escape. You can confront your father after, but right now you need to prove you can handle yourself. You can get out of here.
You are certain your father’s men will have the vehicles locked in. Once you escape this building, you will have to find another—
A window behind you shatters. You duck and cover your head as glass explodes around you. You roll to get away, though your limbs are shaky from everything. When you get to your feet, it is more unsteady than usual.
You turn around. You feel that sinking feeling in your gut again.
“Oh my god,” you say. “Of fucking course it’s you.”
Bang Chan stands there, cold and ungiving like the living shadow he has become. Your father likes an agent that can both disappear and intimidate, so Chan somehow feels like a terrifyingly huge figure, looming over you, despite the fact he is not much bigger or taller. His presence is hulking, as deadly and awful as you remember. He stares at you with those dark eyes over the half-mask. He is not breathing especially hard despite the fact he just took a running leap from the opposite building and smashed through a window. His body is as steady and ungiving as his gaze.
You do not waste any more breath cursing. You turn and run.
You know it is useless but you have to try. In your head, if you get away, that is a bargaining chip. You can talk to Miroh, you can show him that you were right, you can have Changbin back, and Changbin will be fine and—
You let out an aggravated cry when Chan grabs you. You manage to rip away after a few good kicks. It is amazing what hidden strength lies in adrenaline. Your heart is pumping even faster than your last fight with him.
You duck into a stairwell and jump over the railing, landing a couple floors below. You keep doing that, ignoring the fact you can hear him copying you. If you look back, it will slow you down. You keep jumping until you hit the bottom floor.
You make it a few steps before he grabs you again. This time he is relentless, a big gloved around wrapped around your throat.
That adrenaline betrays you. It is like all your training abandons you as your terror and fury rips through you. You struggle against him, your motions jerky and frantic and poorly strategized. He pins you to the wall, using his whole body to lock you in place so you stop kicking him.
“Let me go,” you say, barely above a whisper. It makes him tighten his grip on your throat. You twitch helplessly, gripping his arm uselessly, your face pinched with anger.
You are swiftly joined by the other officers. You glare at them, still digging your nails into Chan’s arm. He does not soften his grip until he is ordered, then he puts you on your feet. You stumble, your vision covered in black spots as you suck in deep, gasping breaths. It was not even just the choking, as he did not squeeze hard enough to fully incapacitate you, but as your adrenaline dwindles, your strength does too.
You trip for the third time. Someone grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back up. You are not sure if you are more surprised or terrified to find it is Chan, looking at you with calculating eyes. You stare back at him, this manifestation of your father’s worst, most inhumane actions. You are torn between apologizing to him and kicking him again.
Then another officer grabs you. You watch with alarm as he puts you in handcuffs.
“What the fuck?” you ask. “Who’s fucking side are you on?”
“Miroh always, of course,” the officer says. “This is for your own good. You are behaving erratically. Don’t be scared. We will inform your father that you tried to flee from your own protective officers. I am certain he will do everything in his power to ensure you cannot put yourself in harm’s way again.”
You have no more words. An animalistic cry escapes from your chest, ripping through you. Even with your hands cuffed behind your back, you dive at the officer and take him down. You bite down on his ear until you taste the metallic tang of blood. He screams under you until someone rips you off him. They hold you by the back of the neck like a poorly behaved puppy.
The officer gets to his feet. Blood is pouring down the side of his neck, part of his ear torn. You spit blood at him.
He raises his hand as if to strike you. You stand there, chin jutted forward, ready to take it.
Then you realize it is Chan holding you. When the officer brings his hand down, Chan moves you. He steps in between you and catches the officer’s wrist.
Chan says nothing. He does not need to say anything. He looks at the officer and the officer swallows.
The officer snatches his hand back and straightens his clothes.
“We’re leaving,” he says. “Guard, take your charge.”
You are looking smugly at the officer. That cockiness dissipates when Chan turns around and looks at you. It has you immediately shrinking away, then flinching when he grabs your arm.
They take you to a truck. It is one of the holding trucks, the kind they use for transporting undesirables. It is obvious they always intended to lock you in chains. You have been in metaphorical chains your whole life, and it is only taking this to realize it.
You try and slow your frantic breathing. You cannot have a breakdown right now. It will only make it harder for you when you confront your father. You are already at a disadvantage, being dragged to him in literal chains. You will be completely at his mercy, and Miroh does not have mercy.
You sit on the bench in the back of the prison truck. You expect to be alone with an officer, giving you time to strategize and think, but then it is Chan climbing into the van and sitting on the bench across from you. All the hairs on your body stand up. You cannot concentrate on anything with Bang Chan in close proximity. He moves like a wild animal, something predatory and swift about him. When they close and lock the door, your heart skips beats.
Chan says nothing. He never says anything. On the rare occasion you have been in contact, you have not heard a word out of him. You seldom have anything to do with the missions he runs. They are above even your paygrade, the worst of Miroh’s work.
You swallow. He is not speaking but he is staring. He does not remove the mask. You have not seen him without it in years. He is nothing but a soldier. An army unto himself.
Your heart skips another beat. An idea slowly forms in your mind.
You are better than average. Chan is better than you. You cannot take all these agents on your own, but you could definitely take them with his help. Of course, that is an entirely hypothetical thought. It would be absolutely, completely, severely ridiculous to even try. You are certain the best reaction you will get out of Chan is nothing, just a penetrating stare and silence. The worst would probably be a snapped neck.
You curl your hands behind your back. The scar on your palm stings. You clench your jaw.
You have nothing else to lose.
“You’re not a soldier, you know,” you say.
Just like you suspected, he says nothing. He just stares at you. The truck rattles along, jostling you so your handcuffs jingle. He moves with the sway of the vehicle, hardly affected.
Your fear turns to frustration. You heave a breath.
“Did you hear me?” you ask. “You’re not a soldier. You’re a prisoner. You’re not who you think you are. Miroh has you under his control, but it’s not real. The real you is in there somewhere. And the real you—” The words come rushing up, slamming into your furiously clenched teeth, “The real you hates Miroh almost as much as me.”
Chan stares at you. That is expected.
What is unexpected is the slow tilt of his head. It makes you shiver, instinctively cowering as he studies you. His brow slowly quirks, a questioning expression. You did not know he could make such an expression.
“Are you… listening to me?” you ask.
He straightens, but he still looks questioning. It is enough for all your desperation to rush to the surface. You fall forward, slamming on your knees in front of him. You are so scarred and bruised, it hardly matters. More important is the fact he looks down, as if he is more concerned by it, though you cannot read any more expressions on his stoic face.
“Chan,” you say. “Chris. Whatever you want to be called. If you’re in there, then listen to me, please. I know you don’t know me. We hardly knew each other at all growing up. But we did grow up together. Miroh is controlling both of us. He is going to use us to do things. He—” You curl your fist behind you, needing to feel the sting on your palm. It brings a tear to your eye.
Chan is looking at you, expressionless again, but it doesn’t matter. You have to try.
“It’s not just us,” you say. “This is bigger than you and me. I have a—I have a friend—my friend, you understand, and I—”
The van comes to a stop. Chan grabs you by the shoulders and puts you back on your bench. You screw your eyes shut and shake your head. You want to scream.
When you open your eyes, you pour all your anger in your glare. It is not directed at Chan, though he is the one to catch your gaze and hold it.
You are still looking at each other when the door is unlocked. There was only a small window providing light in the cabin of the truck. A bigger slash of golden light has you wincing.
Chan is unaffected, still staring at you. An officer opens the door wider and nods to him.
“Let’s go, guard,” he says.
Chan gets up. You watch as he struts past. He jumps out of the van and lands smoothly on his feet.
Then he reels back and punches the officer. It is quick as a snap, the unconscious body hitting the tarmac in a flash. It makes you jump, the bench rattling underneath you.
You sit, petrified, confused. Chan slowly turns. You blink at him.
He holds out his hand.
“What?” you say. It comes out a rasp. You cannot manage more words. There is no way your frantic, barely coherent pleading got through to him. This man has been tortured into compliance. There is no humanity left in him, no memories, no emotions, no hopes. He does not feel anything. He does not understand anything. He is a weapon.
He is still holding out his hand.
There is nowhere to go but forward. You get to your feet and shuffle towards him. He still does not speak, nor does he look at you with any particular expression. He just holds out his arms and lifts you out of the van. When you are on your feet, you stare at each other.
He spins you around. A gust of breath whooshes out of you. You panic for half a second, then you realize he is unlocking your handcuffs.
Never mind. He is breaking them with his bare hands. You watch as they hit the ground in a mangled heap. You turn around slowly, your knees still shaking.
Chan is calm as the other officers approach. Someone asks why you are out of your handcuffs.
Chan looks at you. You do not know why or how, but he nods.
You nod back.
You are a soldier. You trained for this. You were made to fight. It is time to remind them of that.
-
Your father is in his rooftop garden. Miroh has a few soft hobbies like that, gardening among his favourite. He sees himself as a cultivator as much as a green thumb, bringing more life into the world despite what life he takes. It balances for him. The ends always justifies the means.
You walk into his garden. It is obvious he is not expecting anyone, much less you. He does not have time to hide his surprise. You just fought your way through all of his security measures, battered and bruised and beaten. You have not seen yourself, but you are certain your body is a canvas of violence right now.
“Hello, father,” you say.
“Go to my office,” he replies without hesitation. “We will talk there.”
“No,” you say calmly. “We’ll talk right here. Right now.”
He is holding a watering can. He puts it down without looking and it tips over, splashing everywhere. Neither of you look at it. Your eyes are locked on each other. You both know what he did today. He is smart enough to work that out.
“Where are my men?” he asks.
“Detained,” you answer. Chan is holding them off somewhere. You still do not know why or how, but there will be time for that later. You have to solve one problem at a time.
You have no real plan. You are making it up as you. All you know is that scar on your hand is throbbing.
I’m not leaving here without you.
You touch your palm, running your finger over the scar. You do not look away from Miroh as you approach him. Your legs are weak, your knees shaking, your body in agony, but you take one step after the other. Given the stricken look on his face, you think this might be more disturbing than if you were healthy.
Your injuries might have made you equal fighters, but his arm is still in a cast, weakening him too. He will not win in a one-on-one fight. He is smart enough to know that too. It is why he takes a careful, calculating step back.
“You’re injured,” he says. “Go to the infirmary. We can talk after.”
“We can talk now,” you reply, taking another step forward.
“Whatever it is, it can wait,” he says.
“Where is he?” you ask.
You are both speaking calmly, moving slowly. The watering can is slowly leaking water, gurgling in the background. Wind moves through the flowers. You hear birdsong in the sunshine. Still, in the background, it feels like the world is screaming, the high-pitched whistle of that pot at a boiling point.
“Who?” your father asks.
“I’m not playing any more games,” you say. “I’m not playing dress-up with any little secret agents. I’m not getting in any rings and playing made-up fights with your silly toy soldiers. No more lies. No more games. No more secrets. Seo Changbin is my best officer. I want him back. Tell me where he is.”
“His time as a soldier has run its course,” Miroh says. “His body is more useful than him. The initial special-ops experiment was a failure. His genetics might unlock the key to replicating the medicant. We can try again. You should want to help me. You would know better than anyone what worked and what did not.”
Your exhaustion and emotion nearly gets the better of you. You almost hurl right in front of him, imagining all the horrifying implications of genetics and keys. You imagine them taking Changbin apart, piece by piece, experimenting on him like a slab of meat.
You keep your disgust and horror down. You take another step forward.
“Give him back to me,” you say. “Right now. I told you already. I’m not playing any games.”
“You are deeply unwell,” your father says, his tone changing as he looks at you with more scrutiny. His whole face seems to darken with the furrow of his brow. “This is not like you. Go to the infirmary.”
“I’m not asking again,” you say. “Give him back to me.”
“Why?”
Because you’re my father, should be a good enough answer. You know it will not work. You know he does not care. Miroh hates you because you are his daughter. Miroh is not scared of anyone because he knows he is the best. He is scared of himself in you. You never stood a chance.
“Because he’s my friend,” you say, because that is the only truth that matters anymore.
It makes your father laugh unexpectedly. You do not break.
“Your friend?” he asks. “Oh, well, my dear, if he’s your friend, then of course I’ll suspend all my plans and operations!” He continues to laugh.
“I already told you,” you say. “I’m not asking again.”
You fly at him without further warning. He has a half-second to react, his eyes widening as he side-steps clumsily. With your mutual injuries, it is not much of a fight. After a short scuffle, Miroh kicks at your legs, your weakest point, and you double over. He swings his knee up into your stomach and it makes you fall, curled protectively over yourself. You plant your forehead on the ground, arms around you, breathing hard.
“That is how a daughter should be before her father,” he says, looking down at you in your broken little bow.
You look up as he reaches into the lapel of his coat. He has kept his gun in the same place for years. In the same place you always keep yours when you wear a long coat.
He puts his hand there and finds nothing.
You uncurl, showing the gun in your hand. You point it, cock it, and place your finger on the trigger as you stand.
“If the next words you speak are not his exact location, I’m killing you,” you say.
“Then kill me,” he says.
He must know you are running on fumes and a half-baked plan that you did not believe would work. He is calling your bluff, knowing you like he knows himself. You will drop the gun and concede. Miroh wins. Miroh always wins.
But you are gripping that gun with your scarred hand. It sends a twinge of pain shooting up your arm. You hear Changbin’s voice in your head.
You pull the trigger.
You are not sure who is more surprised. You can feel it on your own face, dripping with your sweat and blood. You lower the gun and watch as Miroh stumbles backwards, frantically patting his chest. You wonder if he is wearing any protective layers.
It doesn’t matter, in the end. You spent the last few minutes walking him backwards. If you couldn’t get the gun, you were going to grab him and threaten him with the edge of the roof.
When you shoot him, he stumbles. He falls back. He goes right over the edge.
You stand there for a long minute. The watering can has emptied. The wind has gone still. The whole world seems to stop. When you drop the gun, it hits the concrete with a clatter. It feels very strange that the sun is still shining.
You walk to the edge of the roof. You look down. Your father has loomed over the world from this perch for years, looking over the things he has so meticulously grown.
He is laying in a broken heap at the bottom of it now.
You do not know how long you stand there. The wind begins to blow again. You feel it on your face.
Then you hear a voice. It nearly makes you jump.
“What now?” it asks.
You turn around. Bang Chan is standing there in his dark combat gear, that half-mask still fastened in place. He has finally broken a sweat, his hairline damp, and his chest is moving a little faster with breath. He is human somewhere under there. Deep, deep down. You have no idea what to do with that human anymore than the soldier.
One problem at a time.
A few more officers appear on the rooftop. Chan turns. You approach him.
“What now?” you repeat. You scoop up the discarded gun and point it at the officers. Chan draws his own and does the same. You stand side-by-side, arm-to-arm, eyes on your adversaries. “Right now,” you say, “we fight.”
You pull the trigger.
The fight begins.
#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#bang chan x you#chan x you#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fanficiton#bang chan fanfiction#skz x you#stray kids x you
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More Than Just Friends — b.chris
» stray kids masterlist «
➮ werewolf!Chris × f!Reader
wc: 7.4k
summary: Chris is a werewolf. His best friend is well aware of this. But what she doesn’t know is that during his heat, he often pictures pinning her down and breeding her. When she comes back home the day before his cycle is due to start, Chris finds it hard to not give into his urges when he smells she’s ovulating.
genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural and lycanthropic themes, f2l (gasp and they were roommates); non idol au, werewolf au
warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, Chris struggles with his horny thoughts and controlling his urges but can you blame the poor guy? Being in heat probably sucks when you aren’t getting laid 💀, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!
special taglist: @yoonguurt , @anyamaris , @wooyoungqueen , @kpop-stories-21 , @xsweetelegantdiasterx , @kookthief , @stardragongalaxy , @millennial-fangirl , @blankdyean , @imwithurmother , @bangchans-angel , @oreoqueen , @yjeonginlvr , @zdgx1 , @shuxsoo , @s00buwu , @queenmea604 , @pochaccomin , @katsukis1wife , @linos-catnip , @wh0r3mir4
Join the taglist! »» Closes tomorrow (30th) at 23:00 CST
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MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.
AGELESS BLOGS WILL NOT BE ADDED.
a/n: this was written partially for myself but also for my bestie, Sky. So you're welcome, bestie ily. We're nearing the end of this series so I'll take this time to announce that once I wrap up with Kinktober, the Tales from Camp Holiday Special will start back up with Jun and Vernon's part. If you’d like to sign up for the taglist, you can do so here. If you haven't read the first two installments, you can find those here. And if you have no idea what I'm talking about and read for SVT, you can read the OG Tales from Camp here! Thank you so much for reading and if you liked it, please consider supporting me on kofi (link on my pinned post) and reblogging or commenting! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.
smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), unprotected sex (he’s a werewolf and he’s been dreaming about breeding his best friend. You don’t do that tho. You use protection), oral (both receiving), brat taming (f receiving), breeding, heat cycles, daddy kink, dom!Chris, sub!Reader, use of pet names (baby, babygirl, princess, etc), Chris is a very whipped man and loves Y/N very much. If I've missed anything, please let me know!
dialogue prompt: ❛ We’re not just friends and you fucking know it ❜
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Chris is normally a very patient man. He never rushes things, always preferring to take his time in everything he does. He’s always been able to keep his cool, even when things get… a little hairy. As a werewolf, he’s gotten pretty good at controlling his urges as well.
Chris can recall the exact moment everything changed. He can trace his werewolf lineage back to the Joseon period. He is descended from werewolves. There was no camping trip or fateful night where he was stalked and bitten or mauled by some wolf-man beast.
He was born with his condition, the bloodline being passed down from father to son. The women in the family carried the gene but it was only dominant in males. Only males experienced the Change. Chris was around 11 or 12 when it first happened. He was sitting with some friends, playing video games in the basement when it happened.
He remembered the fever, the sweating, his vision blurring, and then everything went black. When he came to, it was the next morning and he was lying in bed, a cool towel on his forehead and the sun creeping into the room via his window. His mother, who had come to check on him and found him awake, called his father in and the both of them sat down and explained to Chris what was going on.
He was a werewolf. Of course, Chris didn’t understand but as the days turned into weeks, he started to notice the Change even more. His first full moon was approaching and he needed to prepare himself. He started to crave raw meat which his mother was able to provide in the form of rare steak. Chris had never eaten his steaks rare before that point.
Most of the changes were subtle and manageable. The big one was unavoidable. Chris’ first transformation was excruciating but he somehow managed to make it through to the morning and his father told him he had a month to recuperate before it happened again. Chris had hoped that was the end of the surprises but as he got closer to his second full moon, the heat started.
His father had mentioned it but the effects still caught him off guard. He was still only in the beginning stages of puberty so Chris still had a lot to learn about his own anatomy as well as his wolf side. His father assured him everything he was feeling was normal. Every male in the family had gone through this at some point in their lives.
As Chris got older, he was able to manage the changes but the one he still couldn’t seem to overcome other than his transformations was the heat. The intense arousal that seemed to take over all other senses. From sunup to sundown the entire week before his transformations. The urge to fuck anything with a pulse that smelled even remotely attractive.
It was agonizing.
It was worse when he started dating. Once a month, he had to close himself off from his girlfriend for a week. Most of his relationships ended because his partner couldn’t understand and how was he supposed to explain it? How could he explain that he was a werewolf? They’d laugh at him and call him crazy. No one other than his family would understand.
Or so he thought.
Chris was in college when he met you his sophomore year in his economics class. You’d come to class only a moment before the bell rang and despite plenty of seats to choose from, you picked the one next to him. Chris had tried to focus on the lecture but your perfume was enticing. He was close to his heat that day and having such a warm body that smelled as alluring as you did was a horrible combination for him.
He had missed a week of classes after that, emailing his professor who was all too aware of Chris’ nature and understood. Chris’ heat was more intense than any he’d experienced before and he couldn’t keep images of you, the sweet girl who sat next to him once, out of his mind. He hated himself for fantasizing about you, when he didn’t even know your name.
When he returned to class, you were there, in the same spot you’d been before. Chris took his seat in a different spot in an effort to avoid having to look at you for the week’s worth of shame he felt. After the lecture, Chris had hurried out of class to make way to the fitness center for his break between classes until he felt a gentle hand on his arm.
Turning around, he was met with the sight of your smiling face and enchanting scent. ‘Fuck.’
You explained how you noticed he was gone and took notes for him just in case he was sick and then proceeded to hand over a folder full of detailed notes from lectures for the entire week he missed. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Here was a girl who didn’t know his name and she managed to take not only her own notes and complete her own assignments but she took time out of each day to copy her own notes to give to him.
Who did that? Chris was a flabbergasted mess, blushing profusely as he tried to decline your more than generous offer but you didn’t take no for an answer. It was the start of something Chris would come to cherish more than anything else. An unlikely friendship.
Sophomore year at university ended and summer break came. Chris went home to visit his family but kept in touch with you. He wasn’t sure if things would remain the same come junior year but he was pleasantly surprised to walk into his first class of the semester to find you already seated towards the back and pulling out your laptop.
That year was full of study dates at the student cafe, attending football games and cheering for the other team since your university’s team sucked. The holidays brought with it snow and Chris decided to invite you to spend Christmas with his family after he learned yours was going overseas until after the New Year. The drive to Chris’ family home proved difficult as it was only a few days before his heat.
That was the year the truth came out. Chris finally told you everything. He was ashamed but you surprised him even more by accepting him and reminding him that there are some things he can’t control. Chris knew right then that you were going to be a constant in his life. He leaned more on you after that, feeling grateful for the little things you did for him.
Your bond and friendship was made stronger for it.
After graduating, Chris landed a job in the city and was excited when you said you’d be joining him. You both went apartment hunting, agreeing that sharing an apartment was more cost effective than getting two separate places. You both found the perfect one close to both your jobs and quickly settled into a routine. The real challenge came when Chris’ first heat rolled around.
He had a much harder time controlling his urges when you were constantly around and so for the first year, you would spend a week in a hotel but soon that proved to be more than your budget would allow. You were lucky to meet someone at work, a female coworker who understood more than anyone else since her own brother was also a werewolf and she had the room to let you stay for a week.
This had been your routine for the last three years.
“You got everything?” Chris called as you carried your bags out of your room and into the living room where he was sitting on the couch, playing a racing game, his headset resting around his neck. “Yeah,” you replied breathlessly. Chris paused the game and tilted his head back to look at you standing behind him. “You sure?” he asked.
It wasn’t unlike you to forget things and Chris knew this. There were more than a handful of times you’d left for work only to return a few minutes later because you forgot something. It was an endearing trait you had and Chris liked to tease you about it.
“Yes, dad,” you jokingly said, tousling his dark curls. The nickname was meant to be mocking and joking but it always made something stir in his stomach when you said it. Chris would never admit it, even if you were his best friend, but the thought of you calling him daddy lingered in his mind, even long after his heat had passed.
Likewise, you’d never admit it to him but you often thought about adding the extra syllable to the name, if only to see his reaction. Chris wasn’t aware of it but you knew all about his… inclination towards the title. He’d let it slip one night while you were drinking at home, celebrating a promotion with a couple bottles of wine.
[flashback]
“It’s not that bad!” you said in protest as Chris laughed harder, cheeks red from both the action and from the alcohol. “Honestly?” he asked, his laughter subsiding for only a moment. You nodded, your own cheeks warm. “Then it’s not really a degradation kink, is it?” Chris asked.
“It is! But it also feeds into my praise kink,” you said, your filter long gone as you raised your half empty bottle of wine to your lips. It was your second one and both you and Chris had agreed to forego the glasses, opting to drink straight from the bottles.
Chris’ laughter started up again. “Praise kink? Like ‘ oh wow, good job sucking dick?’” he asked through laughs. You narrowed your eyes. “No,” you retorted. “It’s more like ‘you’re doing so well,’ or ‘you take me so well,’” you explained. Chris cocked his head. “So if I were to call you a ‘good little slut’ that would do it for you?”
His question was meant to be curious but you couldn’t control the way your walls clenched around nothing. ‘Shit,’ you thought to yourself as you felt your core heat up, knowing it wasn’t entirely the alcohol’s fault.
There was no denying that your best friend was hot. He’d been hitting the gym since before you met and had probably one of the best bodies you’d ever seen. He was insanely attractive with his strong biceps, muscular thighs and well formed ass. The term cake didn’t even begin to cover it with Chris.
Not to mention those dark curls and dimples that had you weak the moment you met him all those years ago in college. You’d been smitten with him long before even learning his name. And as time went on, you just fell deeper and deeper in love with your best friend.
You couldn’t help it. He was everything you wanted in a man. He ticked every box on your list. He was attractive, funny, smart, kind, and he made you feel safe and secure. He gave the best hugs and he was the clingiest person you’d ever met but you wouldn’t change a single thing about him. Not even the werewolf side of him and the heat that kicked you out once a week.
“Yeah,” you said finally, grabbing the bottle of wine from him and taking a swig. Chris chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s not that bad,” he replied. “I like being called daddy so, who’s the real weirdo here?”
You froze mid sip, swallowing the wine thickly before your eyes settled on Chris who glanced back at you. “Daddy? Really?” you asked softly. He nodded as he reached for the bottle which you handed to him without a second thought. “Yeah. Weird, right?” he asked before taking a sip.
You leaned in, one hand resting on the back of the couch as you looked up into his face.
“Oh not at all,” you started as he brought the bottle down, resting it on his thigh. “Daddy.”
Chris’ eyes snapped up to meet yours, darkening slightly when he noticed the smirk on your face. The two of you stared at one another before he shook his head. “Don’t play with me,” he said, his voice thick.
“You’re playing with fire.”
[present day]
The topic changed quickly after that and the next morning you woke with a headache and the knowledge that your best friend had a daddy kink. He of course didn’t remember a thing. Not the sultry stare off or how you almost made the mistake of kissing him that night.
“When are you leaving?” Chris asked, pulling you from your thoughts of the past. He’d taken your hand from his hair and was inspecting your palm, gently running the tips of his fingers over your skin. Something that normally calmed you down but with the memory fresh in your mind, it was having another effect on you entirely.
“Kara should be here soon,” you replied, gently pulling your hand from his grip and picking up your bags to move them towards the door. Chris said nothing, instead looking at the tv.
He’d never admit it but he had half a mind to ask you not to go. To instead ask you to stay but he knew if you stayed, he’d be unable to control his urges.
For the last year, he’d been having very intense fantasies about pinning you against the nearest surface and fucking you. Even worse, he had vivid fantasies of breeding you. About fucking you raw, knotting your warm cunt, and filling it with his hot cum.
The thought of his cock buried deep inside your walls as he emptied his balls and then his cock swelling so none of it could escape occupied his mind most of the time when his heat approached. The wolf in him wanted nothing more than to breed you, turn you into his little cum dumpster and pump you full of his cum, hoping it would take and get you pregnant.
Chris knew it was his animalistic instincts, wanting to mate and continue the bloodline. He’d been able to control these urges for the most part. He still masturbated to the thought of breeding you, hiding his shame for a few days. He knew it was wrong to fantasize about you like that but he also knew he couldn’t control what the wolf thought but he could control what he did physically.
“Now you’re sure you have everything?” he asked. You nodded, looking down at your bags. “I’m sure,” you replied. A buzzing interrupted you and you gave your roommate a sheepish smile, moving to answer the intercom. “Come on up,” you said, pressing the button when Kara identified herself.
Chris got up and walked over to the door. It only took a couple minutes for Kara to reach the door, knocking when she did. You opened it and smiled at her, having just finished putting your shoes on. “Hey,” you greeted your coworker who smiled back.
“All ready?” Kara asked. Chris watched as you nodded and started to lift your bags. Kara taking a couple of them. “I’ll see you in about a week,” you said, turning to Chris who stepped down into the entry, hands in his pockets.
“There’s leftovers in the fridge, just reheat them. Do not cook,” you instructed and Chris rolled his eyes. “You act like I can’t cook,” he mused and you raised your brows. “Have you eaten anything you’ve ever made?” you asked, jokingly. Chris nudged you playfully.
“Make sure to drink water and please do not destroy anything,” you said, holding your hands together in a silent prayer. Chris rolled his eyes, pulling his hands from his pockets and pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered.
Chris inhaled slowly. He loved the scent of your perfume. It was a scent he’d grown very fond of. His arms tightened around you. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want you to leave. He wanted you to stay but you both knew if you did, he might not be able to control himself.
“See you in a week,” you said softly, giving him a small squeeze. Chris reluctantly let go of you, forcing a smile when you pulled back to look at him. “Take care of her,” he said to Kara who sent him a sympathetic smile. “Of course,” she answered. “You take care of yourself too,” she added.
You grabbed the last bag, slinging it over your shoulder and looked back at Chris one last time, giving him an apologetic smile. He waved as you crossed the threshold into the hall and just like that you were gone for a week.
Another week of an empty apartment. Another week of hell without you.
Chris returned to his game, his heart not really in it as he half-assed his way through the campaign before logging off and shutting the tv down. He went to his room to try and get some work done but found that he couldn’t focus.
He was getting restless and he knew one of two things that could help.
He changed into some of his workout gear, grabbing his headphones, phone, and water bottle, and exited the apartment to head to the building’s gym. He usually could push through an hour workout and it usually managed to take the edge off.
He followed his usual routine, stretching, some light cardio followed by weights and then a walk to cool down. As he was on his walk, the door to the gym opened and another tenant came in. Chris had seen her before. She lived on the fourteenth floor. She had recently changed her hair from blonde to a medium brown with highlights. She had her hair pulled up into a ponytail and was dressed in a black sports bra and black leggings.
She looked up to where Chris was, smiling shyly at him as she made her way over to one of the bicycle machines. Chris returned the smile and looked down at the machine controls. He had about ten minutes left on his walk and then he could hit the showers and head back to his apartment and it would be dinner time.
He tried not to notice the scent of the other tenant’s perfume or the way he could smell sweat starting to permeate the air. He closed his eyes, keeping his hands on the rails as he walked, willing time to move faster. ‘Eight minutes,’ he told himself, peeking at the timer.
He looked up and made eye contact with the woman who had gotten off the bicycle to fill her bottle. She was looking directly at him and Chris couldn’t control the way his body reacted. Heat radiated throughout his body, settling in the pit of his stomach, his dick twitching in his pants.
‘Come on,’ he scolded himself. ‘She’s looking at you. It’s not like she’s flirting. Calm the fuck down.’
Chris looked back up, finding she was still staring at him. ‘Shit.’ He glanced at the timer and saw he had five minutes left. ‘Fuck this. I’m done anyway,’ he told himself as he pushed the stop button. He couldn’t risk popping a boner in the gym simply because a woman looked at him.
He’d shower back at the apartment.
He sprayed a paper towel and quickly wiped down the machine before grabbing his things and heading for the door. He pushed open the door and exited quickly, heading to the elevator and pressing the call button. He waited, shifting from one foot to the other.
He could hear footsteps, and silently prayed for the elevator to arrive sooner. He let out a breath he forgot he was holding as the doors dinged and opened. He stepped into the small room, waving his card over the reader and pressing the button for his floor.
As the doors started to close, a hand shot out to stop them and Chris internally cursed as the woman stepped onto the elevator. He forced a smile, moving into the corner as she waved her card, pressing the button for the fourteenth floor.
The door slowly slid shut, closing them both in and Chris stared at the counter above the doors, ignoring the woman completely. Her floor would come before his. He just had to be patient.
“Hey,” a soft voice said and Chris knew she was speaking to him. He turned his head to find her looking at him. “Hi,” he replied. “I’ve seen you around a few times,” she said, a smile spreading across her face. Chris nodded. “I’ve lived here for a few years,” he admitted.
‘Come on, come on,’ he thought impatiently as the counter continued to rise. “I’m new to the area,” she said suddenly. “Are you from around here?” she asked. Chris nodded wordlessly, keeping his gaze on the numbers over the elevator doors.
“Maybe you could show me around some time,” she offered, moving closer. ‘Fuck,’ he cursed mentally. She was close enough that he could smell the arousal wafting off her. ‘No, no, no,’ he told himself. The moment her hand touched his arm, Chris jumped just as the doors opened on the thirteenth floor.
‘Fuck this’ he thought and pushed past as someone else stepped onto the elevator and he walked down the hall, heading for the stairwell. He’d rather walk than be trapped in a steel box with a horny woman this close to his heat.
Once he finally reached his floor, he made sure the floor was deserted as he headed for the door, letting himself in. He could breathe easily as he kicked his shoes off and headed past the kitchen, dropping his water bottle on the counter as he headed for his room.
He stripped and got into the shower, turning the water on, letting the stream heat up and wash his body. Once he was done showering, he got out, dressed and sat down at his computer, putting his headset on and turning on some music and getting a headstart on some work.
When his stomach growled, he cursed, pulling his headphones off and got up, exiting his room and making his way into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the glass containers from the fridge and pulled it out to inspect it. ‘Lasagna,’ he noted with a smile as he took the lid off and scooped the contents out onto a plate to heat it up.
Once the food was hot, he carefully pulled the plate out and took a seat at the kitchen counter, grabbing a fork as he did and started to eat. He was eternally grateful for you, making food for him when you left for a week. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook, he could. He just preferred it when you did.
As he chewed, he wondered what you were up to with Kara. Were you eating dinner as well?
“I can’t believe he still thinks you’re a lesbian,” Kara said, giggling as you took a sip of your wine. “I’ve told him numerous times I’m not,” you replied. “I don’t understand why he still thinks that.”
Kara shook her head. “Who knows,” she replied, glancing down at her empty glass. “Oh, time for a refill!”
She got up, waiting for you to down the rest of your wine and took your empty glass to the kitchen to refill them both. The two of you had ordered pizza, neither one of you wanted to cook, especially after you had cooked an entire week's worth of meals for Chris.
“What do you think Chris is up to?” Kara asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Oh, he’s probably playing video games,” you replied as Kara poured your favorite wine into your glass and placed the bottle back in the fridge. She walked back over with both glasses, handing yours over as she took a seat.
“So,” she started, taking a sip of her wine. “Let me see this presentation,” she added and you set your glass down, rushing over to your laptop bag and pulling it out, moving back to sit on the couch, setting your laptop on the coffee table.
Kara continued sipping on her wine as you opened your laptop and logged on. You signed into and pulled up the presentation powerpoint you’d been working on all week for Monday’s meeting. It wasn’t anything fancy but you were pretty proud of it.
Kara looked over it, complimenting your skills and work, making small comments on certain parts. “I really like this,” she said, pointing at one of the slides. “You really made a good point here.” You felt pride swell in your chest until your laptop dinged, a small notification indicating your battery was low.
“I swear, the battery on this thing dies so fast,” you groaned as you got up and headed over to your bag to grab the charger. You unzipped the pocket only to find your charger wasn’t there. “What the…” you trailed off, starting to check all the pockets of your laptop bag but no charger in sight.
“What’s wrong?” Kara asked. “I can’t find my charger,” you replied. “Did you bring it?” Kara asked, getting up from her seat and walking over. “I thought I did,” you replied, feeling annoyed and angry with yourself for forgetting when Chris had asked you multiple times if you had everything.
“You can use mine,” Kara said but you shook your head. “You have a Macbook,” you reminded her. “This is an HP.” Kara swore under her breath. “I gotta go back home,” you said softly. Kara looked up at you. “Are you sure?” she asked. You nodded.
“I need that charger,” you answered. “Especially if I’m gonna be here for a week.” Kara nodded and got up. “I’ll drive you,” she said and you shook your head. “You’ve had like a whole bottle,” you reminded her. “I’ve only had a glass. I’ll drive. You stay here. I’m just gonna run back and get it and then I’ll be back.” Kara nodded as she grabbed her keys and handed them to you.
“Be careful,” she said as you grabbed your purse, making sure you had your phone. You headed to the door, slipping your shoes and coat on. “I’ll be back in a bit,” you called and exited her apartment, making your way to the elevator and pushing the button.
You fished your phone out of your purse, opened Chris’ message thread and sent him a text.
You: i did what i said i wouldn’t. I forgot my laptop charger 💀
You: i’m on my way back to get it.
You: i’ll be quick. Just in and out
Placing your phone back in your purse, you stepped onto the elevator, pushing the button for the garage and waited as the doors shut and the lift descended, heading for the basement. You found Kara’s car, unlocking it and getting in.
The drive to your apartment didn’t take long and you pulled into the designated parking space in your garage, parking and shutting off the engine. You got out, leaving your purse in the car and locking it. ‘In and out, Y/N,’ you reminded yourself as you headed for the elevator.
The ride up to your floor was quiet, the sun had set and most people were already out enjoying the Friday nightlife. The elevator dinged, doors opening as it arrived on your floor and you stepped off the lift, heading for your apartment door.
You unlocked it, letting yourself in. You expected to see Chris but didn’t see him perched on the couch playing games. ‘Maybe he’s in his room,’ you told yourself as you walked through the apartment and to your room.
Turning on the light, you saw the culprit lying innocently on your desk and you glared at it, walking over to grab it and headed towards the door. As you exited your room, you heard Chris call out.
You turned the knob and looked into his room. “I thought I heard you, he said with a chuckle. “I sent you a text,” you answered, peering into his room. He was sitting at his computer, headphones hanging around his neck as he finished whatever he was working on.
“Forget something?” he asked, sounding amused at your forgetfulness. You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied. “I forgot my laptop charger,” you answered. Chris turned to look at you. “It’s always something,” he joked and you smiled sheepishly.
“Sorry,” you said, chuckling. “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached.” Chris smiled as he removed his headphones from around his neck, looking over at you. “It’s fine,” he said softly, moving to get up. You pushed the door open further as he approached you. “Do you need anything before I leave?” you asked.
Chris opened his mouth to respond but a sudden strong smell hit him. It was like someone had opened a bottle of vanilla extract and placed it under his nose. He knew that smell all too well. It made every nerve in his body burn. It made his pupils enlarge, his throat burn, and an intense heat form in the pit of his stomach. Lust and desire burned, the line blurring into the primal need to mate.
You hadn’t been careful enough. Neither of you had but then again this had never happened before. How didn't this come up? How hadn’t this happened before? Three years living together and this had never, ever happened? Either you were very lucky or you were always away when it happened.
Chris’ fingers curled into his palm, knuckles turning white as his nails dug into his skin in an attempt to ground himself but what normally worked had never been tested in this situation before.
Chris was about to start his heat and you… you were ovulating.
You watched as your best friend froze. “Chris?” you asked softly. You were surprised when he looked at you, his eyes darkening. “You need to leave,” he said, his voice low and dangerously so. “Chris? What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a step forward.
“Don’t!” your best friend growled. You froze, eyes widening. He’d never spoken to you like that before. “Chris you’re starting to worry me, what’s wr—” before you could finish your question, your best friend had closed the distance and grabbed you, pinning you against the wall next to the door.
“Chris!” you gasped, hands moving to his shoulders, gripping his shirt. “What’s gotten into you?”
His heat was close but it wasn’t supposed to start yet. He’d always been good about controlling his urges so what was different this time?
“I’m sorry,” Chris said softly, his head drooping as he struggled against his own urges. “This has never happened before.” You tried to push him away but he was much stronger than you were. “Why are you acting like this? You’ve always had a hold of yourself,” you continued. “You’re ovulating,” Chris interrupted. Your eyes widened.
“H-how did you know?”
Chris chuckled dryly. “I can smell it,” he answered. One of his hands moved up to your cheek as he raised his head. “I can smell it and it’s driving me crazy,” he continued. You felt one of his knees wedge between your thighs, pressing against your core. “It’s making me want to do things to you.”
You felt a shiver run up your spine. ‘Do things? What kind of things?’
“L-like what?” you whispered, swallowing thickly.
Chris leaned in, nuzzling against your cheek as his lips ghosted over your skin, stopping near your ear. “Would you be mad if I said exactly what I wanted to do to you?” he asked softly. You shook your head. Though you wouldn’t say it, you welcomed it, wondering just what was going on in his head.
“Tell me,” you replied.
You felt Chris nuzzle into your neck, sniffing eagerly. “I want to rip those cute lace panties of yours and stuff that sweet little pussy with my cock.” As if punctuating his words, Chris leaned in, pressing his thigh more firmly against your core.
You let out an involuntary whimper, causing him to groan in your ear. “I want to…” he trailed off. “No, I need to pin you down on the bed,” he said, making you gasp as he pressed his thigh even harder against you.
“Pin you down and fuck you until I fill you with so much cum. I need to breed you.,” he continued, lips ghosting over your skin. “Breed you like you’re the one in heat.” You let out another gasp, feeling one of his hands move to grab your ass, sneaking under your skirt.
“And of course you had to wear a skirt, didn’t you?” he growled. “I bet you knew it would drive me crazy. That I’d be able to smell everything.” You moaned into his ear as his hand continued to knead your ass, nails digging into your flesh
“I’ll bet you planned this, didn’t you? I bet your laptop charger isn’t even here,” he scoffed as if it wasn’t lying on the floor in the hallway where you’d dropped it. “Chris,” you whined, moaning as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass. “Oh shit,” he groaned.
“Say my name like that again,” he dared you. “Say that again, baby. Moan my name and I’ll take you right now.”
A thick silence fell over the two of you as Chris pulled back, eyes searching your face, neither one speaking nor making a move until you finally cleared your throat and spoke. “Chris, we can’t,” you started, looking between his eyes. “W-we’re friends,” you added, letting out a yelp as Chris quickly backed up to create enough space to turn you around to face the wall before pinning you against it, pressing his erection into your back.
“You feel that?” he asked, grinding against you. “You feel what you do to me? What you’ve been doing to me since that first day in economics?” he asked. “I’ve wanted you ever since you sat next to me. Wanted to fuck you raw and pump you full.”
“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it,” he growled in your ear. Moaning, you pushed back against him, earning another deep growl.
“Don’t play with me,” he snapped. “I’m not playing…” you trailed off. “Daddy.” The name caused a chain reaction. Chris wrapped an arm around your waist from behind, lifting you easily and carrying you over to his bed where he deposited you face down.
You tried to turn over but he was quick to stop you, pushing your skirt up to expose your lace covered core. He quickly grabbed the material and tugged, ripping it easily. “Chris!” you gasped but the next second you were crying out as he landed a slap to your ass.
“Don’t speak until I tell you to,” he growled. You felt his fingers glide up and down your slit, gathering your arousal before pushing into your cunt. You let out a groan as he started to slowly pump his fingers before removing them. “Chest to the bed,” Chris instructed. “But keep your ass up.”
You did as he said, lowering your shoulders until your chest rested against the mattress. In that time, Chris removed his hat, tossing it aside as he knelt on the mattress behind you, hands grabbing your hips. He leaned closer, taking a deep inhale. “Fuck, I’m gonna ruin this pussy,” he growled. His tongue ran along your slit, from your clit up and back down, toying with the bundle of nerves, his nose bumping against your entrance.
Your fingers dug into the sheets as you moaned, pushing back against his face. Chris pulled back delivering a sharp smack to your thigh. “Hold still,” he barked. “Do that again and I’ll fuck your hole and not let you cum.”
You whined, wiggling your hips in a silent plea for more. Chris pushed you onto your side before flipping you onto your back, grabbing your hips and pulling your core to his face, burying it in your pussy, tongue ravishing your clit. Your thighs tried closing but Chris wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding them open as he licked at and sucked on your clit, drawing you closer to your climax.
“Shit, Chris!” you gasped, your hand moving to comb through his curls.
“M’gonna cum.”
Chris didn’t relent, flicking his tongue against your clit until you came undone under him, crying out as your orgasm crashed over you. You tried to shy away from his mouth but he held you still, never stopping as he drew you to another orgasm.
As you came down from the second, he finally let go of your thighs, pulling back to wipe his chin and taking ahold of the collar of his shirt and yanking it off over his head, tossing it aside. “I want you to ride my tongue but it’ll have to wait,” he said in a husky voice as his hands moved to undo his jeans, unbuckling but not removing his belt before unbuttoning and pulling down the zipper of his pants.
“Come here,” he said, holding out his hand and pulling you up when you took it. “Open your mouth,” he added as he pushed his jeans down around his thighs. You did as he asked, keeping your gaze on his face as he pulled his erection free from the confines of his underwear.
“Keep your mouth open for me,” he added, taking his cock in his hand, giving himself a couple strokes before guiding the tip past your lips, the weight heavy on your tongue. His free hand moved to your hair, taking a fistful and guiding your head. “Get to work, baby girl,” he murmured.
“Show daddy how you use your mouth.”
Your scalp stung, eyes watered and your throat hurt by the time Chris finally pulled your mouth off him. He’d forced his cock down your throat more than once and even fucked your throat a few times, making you gag. What little makeup you had on was ruined, tear stained cheeks and swollen lips but to Chris you were stunning.
“Lay back for me,” he ordered, discarding his pants and underwear, watching as you pulled your top off and threw it aside, scooting into the middle of his bed. Chris crawled over you, taking your lips in a searing kiss as his hands pushed your knees apart to accommodate him.
Your hands moved to his hair as he guided the head of his cock to your dripping entrance, pulling back just enough to make eye contact. “I want to watch your face as I enter you,” he growled. “Watch your eyes roll back into your head as I fill you with my cock.”
You moaned loudly as he pushed into you, stretching your cunt with his girth, inch by inch until he was buried inside your walls, groaning about the warmth and how tight you felt. It was taking all his strength to not start slamming into you immediately.
“I’m gonna give you a few minutes to adjust and then I’m gonna hold you down against this mattress and fuck you until you cum,” he gave you a shallow thrust, enjoying the gasp that escaped you. “And then I’m going to flip you over, ass up and fuck you until I cum and fill this pussy. You understand me?”
You nodded silently but that wasn’t good enough for him. Chris grabbed your face. “When I ask you a question, you answer me with your words. Don’t make me say it again.”
“Yes,” you answered quickly. “Yes, what?” he asked, tilting his head. “Yes, daddy,” you whispered. Chris let go and smirked down at you. “Good girl.”
No sooner than the words left his lips, his hands were on your hips, holding them in place as he started to pull out and snap his hips against yours, driving his cock into your cunt repeatedly. Your thighs tightened around his waist, prompting him to growl and halt his movements.
You were about to ask what the problem was when he took your ankles and placed your legs over his shoulders. The new position allowed you to feel more, moaning louder when he pounded into you harder. “Oh holy shit,” you gasped, feeling the head of his cock hit the soft gummy spot that had you seeing stars.
“Right there?” he asked, angling his hips and hitting the same spot, making you cry out.
He repeatedly hit the same spot over and over, moving his hand to rub circles against your clit with his thumb. “That’s it princess,” he huffed. “Cum all over daddy’s cock.” You let out a mewl, walls fluttering as you came. One of your hands moved to grab Chris’ wrist, trying to ground yourself as the aftershocks of your orgasm rolled over you.
With each pass over your clit with his thumb, Chris watched your body seize up and chuckled before pulling his cock from your abused hole.
He quickly turned you over, pulling your hips up and taking himself in his hand, stroking a couple times before pushing back into you. This position allowed for all of his cock to fit inside you, making you moan into the sheets, fingers curling into the fabric.
Chris took your hips in his hands, pulling out and snapping forward, his hips hitting your ass with each thrust. He set a relentless and merciless pace, grunting with effort as he slammed into you. The sheets muffled your cries and screams of pleasure as he allowed his animalistic urges to take over.
‘Breed. Breed. Breed,’ the beast in his mind said. Chris let out a low groan, almost like a growl as he pounded into you. Leaning over your back, he slammed his hips into you, burying his cock deep inside your walls before he started to roll his hips, earning a deep moan from you.
“Once I’m done with you,” he panted. “You aren’t going anywhere. You’ll stay here and I’m going to fuck you raw every night. Pump you full of cum and breed you. Fill you with so much cum it’ll have to take. Fuck you until I get you pregnant and then you’ll be mine.”
You moaned, walls clenching around his cock. You felt his hand in your hair, fingers curling into a fist before he pulled back, lifting your face from the sheets and allowing your moans to fill the room. “You want that, baby? You want daddy to turn you into his little breeding bitch?”
“Oh fuck, daddy yes!” you whimpered. “Please fill me!” Chris growled, letting go of your hair and moving his hand to your shoulder, pinning your chest down. You turned your head to the side, each thrust drawing a whimper from you.
“Daddy’s gonna fill you baby girl, cum inside you until it spills out and then I’ll just push it all back in,” he grunted. “Don’t want to waste a single drop.” Your hand moved to grab the wrist of his hand that was pressed against the mattress near your head.
“That’s right,” he groaned. “You’re mine. All mine and no one else’s.” You lifted your head, managing to turn and make eye contact with him. “I’ve always been yours, daddy,” you breathed. Chris growled, pressing his chest against your back and sinking his teeth into your shoulder.
You moaned, walls clenching around his cock as he rammed into you over and over. He lifted his head, lips close to your ear. “Mine,” he growled. “Mine, mine, mine!”
You pushed back to meet his thrusts and screamed as he slammed into you one last time, groaning into your ear as he came, releasing thick strands of hot cum into your cunt. You moaned as more and more cum spilled into your pussy. You had never known a man to have that much cum but then again, Chris wasn’t an ordinary man.
At the same time he was emptying his load into you, his cock started to swell inside, lodging itself in your walls. “Chris,” you whimpered. “What’s—” You heard him shush you, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “It’s normal. It’s my body’s way of ensuring it takes.”
“Ensuring what takes?”
Chris chuckled, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Ensuring my cum gets you pregnant,” he answered. You let out an uneasy chuckle. “And if it doesn’t take?” you replied. Chris hummed and pressed several more kisses against your shoulder before leaning in to whisper in your ear.
“I guess we’ll just have to keep trying then.”
ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.
#cultofdionysusnet#mfu-net#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids fanfic#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#bang chan scenarios#bang chan imagines#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan fanfic#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#kwanisms kinktober 2023
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🪅 anon againnnn!!!!!!!! Thinking abt reader and chan visiting reader's childhood home when chan gets so needy he begs to put 'just the tip in' while theyre in reader's old bedroom😵💫😵💫😵💫 but eventually he fAILED and aAAaGgHhhH
𝐛𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 - bang chan x fem!reader
wc: 2.3k
sw: daddy kink, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, bang chan’s big dick, degradation (a bit), dumbification, dom!chan, sub!reader
as soon as chan pushes the duvet off of your legs, you know where this is going. his fingers dart up the skin newly exposed to him in your sleep shorts, until he’s cupping a handful of your inner thigh and inching closer towards you. it’s not hard to be close to you - your childhood twin single is anything but spacious, yet you still jolt in surprise when his breath fans over your neck.
“you look so cute,” chan mumbles. you feel his big nose pressing into your skin and you gasp when he kisses just below your ear, nibbling your lip when he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. “will you let me play with you, baby?”
“c-chan,” you try, but you know your answer. it’s always yes. enthusiastically, actually. “my parents are in the other room, i don’t- i don’t know if i can be quiet, and-“
“i’ll just push the tip in, yeah?” he says, pulling his face away from his neck. the room is darker than usual, only your lamp providing a semblance of some light, but you can see his dark hair and how it’s forming curls after his shower. his eyes are even darker, plush lips in a teasing, almost questioning smirk. he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. “just the tip, baby. i promise.”
“mm- mm, just the tip?” you question, but your thighs are already falling apart. your toes curl underneath the duvet, and you let him pull your shorts down with two thumbs hooked into the waistband. he groans when he sees you. you know you’re wet, you always are when you’re in bed with chan, and he can’t help but to take his hand from your face and swipe over your clit. you whimper, soft and barely audible, and chan licks his lips.
he’s just in his boxers, expensive vetements ones that always make you feel bad when you’ve gushed all over them after a dry humping session. the light coming from the lamp is a sweet orangey-pink that highlights his abs as he shuffles over and settles between your legs, and you pull your sleep shirt up to expose your tits to him.
“you know just what i like,” chan coos, eyes fixated on your chest. your breasts jiggle with every stuttery breath that comes from your lungs, and you wriggle around impatiently while he pushes his boxers down strong thighs. “my good girl. daddy’s good girl, yeah?”
“yeah! yeah, ‘m daddy’s good girl,” you nod eagerly. he chuckles, and your eyes widen when you see his cock. it’s nowhere near close to the first time you’re taking it, but chan’s big big big, thick and heavy with a pink mushroom tip that has you drooling. “r’ya gonna give it to me now, daddy? i wan’ it.”
“yeah, i’ll give it to you, baby,” he mutters, hand moving to grip his cock. he pumps it a few times, and you see a droplet of precum dribble to christen your fresh childhood bedsheets. he leans over you, cock still in one hand and his bicep tensed next to your head. he’s close like this, letting you see every freckle and mark on his face but before you can even consider kissing him he’s fucking his cockhead into you. your mouth drops into an o, a silent whine, and chan audibly laughs this time. “ah, there you go. there’s that sweet face.”
“i- you’re really hard, daddy,” you say, in lieu of saying anything else. your eyes flutter shut, and his cockhead fucks into you slowly a few times, all two or so inches. your pussy squelches audibly with every movement. chan huffs out a breath, and then you feel him slide another bit of his cock home. your eyes shoot open, blinking rapidly at his smug expression. “daddy! you said- you said just the tip!”
“i think you need more, don’t you?” he asks, eyebrow raised. his lips are curled in a teasing smile, and you try to deny it, try to shake your head and pout but he’s all too knowing. “you need daddy to play with your messy pussy, fuck it open with my cock until i’m breeding that hole. isn’t that right? tell me i’m wrong, baby.”
you whine, legs kicking around in your mini tantrum. chan catches your knee while you’re squirming, pushing it upwards until you’re forced to hold it back yourself. despite your confused expression, he pushes forward, and then his cock is filling you all the way to the base.
“i- ah, daddy?! daddy, it’s-“
“i know, i know,” he croons, leaning down to press his lips against yours. it’s a chaste kiss, almost an apology, but then he’s fucking into you so deep it has your eyes watering. he moves you around, pushes his chest to yours so your nipples rub against his hard pecs. with him this close to you, your clit rubs against his trimmed pubic hair in such a delightful way that you want to cry. “takin’ it so well, that’s my girl.”
“‘s big,” you slur, eyes rolling back into your head with every buck of his hips against yours. it is big, cock stretching your hole to the point it almost hurts - yet you love every second of it. your pussy gushes and makes its own noises of pleasure around your boyfriend’s length, and if it was any other situation he’d laugh at you. he won’t this time, though, not when you’re being his pliant little thing, wet and ready for him to tamper with.
his pace is slow, almost as if he’s using his thighs to bounce into you over and over, and your pussy flutters with it. chan grunts and moans deeply, quiet but still audible with how close he is. you huff little whimpers of your own, drooling all over your pillowcase.
“god, you’re so- this pussy’s so tiny, baby, i don’t know how you fit me in,” chan’s lips part, pants of air leaving his lungs. “messy, tiny fucking cunt. sloppy thing, you’re so perfect for me. my pretty angel and her cute little hole.”
“she likes you too,” you mumble, completely lost in the feeling of his cock inside of you. chan giggles at that, and you whimper when he adjusts you again, pushing both legs upwards to rest on his broad shoulders. he takes a quick glance at you, smiles when he sees you drooling on the pillow in a world of ecstasy, and then he’s fucking you senseless. you almost shriek, a loud gasp leaving you when his cock rams against your cervix, but chan’s hand moves to cover your mouth with godspeed.
“quiet, yeah?” he murmurs, and you nod, eyes watery. his hand stays there, though, his own puffs of air leaving him with every thrust. “good girl. feel daddy’s cock, just take it.”
it’s so easy to get lost in it. the glide of chan’s cock inside of you is hypnotizing, your pussy drenching his shaft with every movement in and out and in again and you can’t help but let out tiny whimpers. you’re embarrassed, letting your boyfriend fuck you open so easily on your childhood bed but god does it feel good. your clit throbs with it, nipples sensitive and pebbled in the air of your bedroom, and you start to fuck yourself back on him without realising. it’s delicious, and you’re getting too loud, babbling and slurring your words.
“i- chan, chan, daddy! daddy, hnng-”
“ah, shit,” he curses, exasperated, and then he’s sliding his dick out of you. you want to whine, throw a tantrum, but his calloused palms come to your hips to flip you over. your face is pressed into the pillow like this, and chan pushes your head down harder for good measure. “you have to be quiet if you want me to keep fucking you.”
“i’ll be quiet,” you try, but your words are muffled in the fabric. you imagine he’s pumping his cock judging by the quiet grunts coming from his parted lips, and the thought of his cockhead leaking in his hand has you huffing in annoyance, pushing your ass backwards to grab his attention.
it works. “oh, fuck,” chan groans, and you feel his hands go to your ass. he grabs a handful of the flesh, kneading like a cat, and you jolt when his thumb rubs over your asshole. his thumb moves downwards, rubbing over the slight gape of your pussy from his cock, but then he’s smacking your ass with his other hand just for good measure. “this ass. fuckin’ delicious, daddy’s pretty girl.”
you whine, turning your head just a tad. “daddy, my pussy. don’t look at my ass, my- my pussy, daddy, i need you!”
“yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, and he’s crowding into your space all of a sudden. his body is firm and muscular on top of yours, and he knocks your thighs apart just a tad until he’s sliding home again with a way too loud noise of approval coming from your wet hole. you push your ass back further, and in any other situation chan wouldn’t allow it but he remains stationary, letting you fuck yourself onto his fat length.
“mm, it’s- daddy, you fuck me so good,” you moan, eyes rolling back into your head. chan’s hands grip at your waist, and he goes from pulling you back onto his cock to pinning you down and making you take it. it’s quick as a flash, the way his pace changes, and you can do nothing more but drool on the pillow and slur out some praises while trying to be quiet.
“slutty pussy,” chan remarks, and you gasp, nodding in agreement. you love when he talks to you like this, and he groans, leaning forward against you more to wrap one strong arm around your neck. it pulls your head back, cutting your airflow just enough to give you that ecstatic light headed feeling. his hips slap against your ass, creating a filthy noise in your childhood bedroom that has you feeling more than just slutty, and you can’t help the gushes of arousal your pussy lets out over it. “mm, daddy’s gonna cum in this pussy. i’m gonna fill it up, yeah? d’ya want that?”
“yeah, yeah! daddy, daddy,” you babble, drool slicking down onto chan’s forearm. it makes him chuckle, the mushroom tip of his cock pressing against your g-spot with every thrust, and you try to wriggle around on your bed to find the perfect position to grind your clit onto the mattress. chan lets you reposition yourself, and when your clit hits the sheets just right you’re sure you could cry. you gush and cry on chan’s cock, your pussy fluttering and sucking him back in on every outwards thrust. he’s going insane with it, groaning and grunting in your ear.
“fuckin- shit, grind your clit, baby,” he commands, and you whine, nodding. you’re almost feral grinding your pussy against the sheets and backwards onto chan’s cock, a high pitched noise leaving your mouth. “cum for daddy. i wanna feel this cunt squeeze my cock before i fill you up, c’mon.”
“ah, ah! ah, daddy, ah- daddy, dad- i’m gonna- hnng, i need-“ you need more, harder, more of his cock ramming into your g-spot and you’ll give him anything he wants.
he knows you too well. “yeah, y-yeah, i’ll fuck you harder, baby,” he mumbles, and his arm tightens around your neck. your teeth bite into your bottom lip painfully, and his cock hits you deep once, twice, forcing your clit down onto the mattress, and then you’re babbling your way through a full body orgasm.
“ah, cum- cumming! cumming, daddy, ‘m cumming,” you wail, toes curling and breath stuttering in your throat. your clit throbs with it, pussy dripping and gushing around your daddy’s big cock, and you try to fuck yourself back on it a little more. it’s like chan’s reading your mind, because he starts to fuck into you a little faster to ride it out.
“oh, baby. that’s a big one, mm?” chan coos, and you nod, breathless, still dizzy with it. he thrusts into you a few more times, hips slapping hard against your ass, and his hand goes to the small of your back to push you down further. you’re splayed on your front, pliant and sated, but your daddy still has to fill you up like he promised. “i got you. i got you, daddy’s gonna cum, baby.”
his hips slow down, like they normally do when he’s close, and you feel his shaft throb and twitch inside of you. he gasps, thrusts stalling completely, and then you feel his cum filling you up, thick and white and flooding your cervix until you feel like there’s no way there’s any left. you sigh through it all, tears biting at your eyes by the time he’s done, rocking your hips back to help him ride his own orgasm out.
“take it, take all of my cum. there we go, good girl,” he’s talking to try and soothe you, hand rubbing down your tired legs as he pulls his soft cock out. you want to move, to turn to kiss him, but chan’s already using his discarded shirt to clean you up between your legs. he’s soft and gentle on your abused pussy, and your daddy’s so sweet that he pulls your sleep shorts back up for you.
“i wan’ cuddle,” you murmur, still on your front. you’re not sure you can move, but chan chuckles, sidling up to you and pulling you to rest against his chest.
“you can cuddle,” he confirms, lips pressing a kiss against your hairline. “ya did so good for me, y’know? my good girl, daddy’s girl.”
you hum, feeling blissful and sweet. he knows exactly what you need afterwards, stroking his fingers up your clothed back. “i love you.”
“i love you too, baby.”
#juno’s fics ♡#bang chan smut#bang chan x you#bang chan fic#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan fanfic#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#chan fanfic#chan smut#skz smut#skz fic#stray kids smut#stray kids fic#stray kids x reader#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#skz x reader#skz fanfic#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#chan fic
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𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 ; 𝐛𝐜, 𝐬𝐜𝐛
𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 18+, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢.
𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐤 ;
𝐜𝐰: 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲 ; 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲 ; 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 ( 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐡 ) ; 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 ; 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ( 𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 ) ; 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐣𝐨𝐛 ; 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 ; 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 ; 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐯 𝐬𝐞𝐱 ( 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭! ) ; 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞(𝐬) ;
𝐰𝐜: 8,7𝐤
-`♡´-
You don’t know what’s wrong with you.
You’ve been staring at your friends from head to toe since the three of you stepped inside the club. To be fair, you think it all started back at the dorm - damn Bang Chan and his slutty outfit. Who does he think he is? Wearing a silky black shirt, the sleeves rolled up his forearms and the first three buttons undone. Three. Slutty. Not to mention Changbin, who’d decided to wear the tightest shirt in the world, apparently. White, not black like Chan’s, and definitely not as expensive, but slutty nonetheless - hugging his muscles perfectly.
You’re just a girl with pms and they’re hot. You’re not to blame, your hormones are.
After the first tequila shot, you were fine.
With the second shot, Chan’s lips started to look unusually tempting. What would it feel like to kiss him? To run your tongue all over his lips as you make out shamelessly, maybe you’d tug at his hair, too?
After the third shot, you wanted to bite Changbin’s biceps. Is this normal?
Maybe, just maybe, Felix was right and you've had too much to drink, because now you’re at your fifth or sixth shot and you're starting to have these… weird thoughts about them. Thoughts that start with what would it feel like, to be touched by both of them at the same time? Filthy, dirty thoughts, thoughts you've never had about them. Okay, maybe you’re lying, because you definitely thought of them that way - but you never thought of acting on those thoughts. But everything's different now that Chan's chest is pressed against your back and you can feel his crotch right on your ass. Everything's different now that Changbin has one hand on your hip and the other cupping your cheek as he keeps staring at your chest, licking his lips afterwards.
You're sure they'd make you feel so good, if they ever were to fuck you.
You don't know if it's the alcohol or not, but you're starting to feel needy - in that way. That's why you push your hips back to meet Chan's crotch properly, gasping when you find him already hard. You’re not really surprised though, and you find it kind of flattering that a man so fine like Bang Chan is turned on by you. He’s, like, perfection on legs,and you do feel proud of yourself right now.
Little do you know - Changbin, too, is hard.
Chan grunts, a natural and instinctive response to the feeling of your ass rubbing on his crotch, and grabs your waist, grinding back on you. Changbin, at the same time, is not being subtle at all about how turned on he is, shamelessly licking and biting his lips as he stares at your boobs. When his hips crash on yours, you find out he’s rock hard too. You think Changbin’s not gonna hear the guttural sound that escapes your throat at the feeling of both their cocks grinding on you, but he does, despite the loud music. He does and he’s quick to attach his mouth to your neck when you kick your head back, resting it on Chan’s shoulder. A bold move, yes, but it has the three of you grunting and yearning for more.
You want them to do unspeakable things to you.
“I wanna fuck,” you blurt out, looking at Changbin, then at Chan, “want the three of us to fuck.”
They almost choke on air, then exchange looks - eyes wide, and almost no blood left in their brains. Despite their painfully hard cocks sitting uncomfortably inside their underwear, however, they both shake their heads at the same time as a no. You pout - an instant reflex of your subconscious, you suppose. You really want them so bad.
“Nope, not gonna happen, babygirl,” Chan speaks, “you’re wasted.” Your gaze shifts to Changbin, but him, too, his nodding his head, agreeing with his friend.
“But-“ you try to argue, but it’s pointless, they’re both firm on their decision.
“If you’re really sure you want this,” Changbin cups your cheek and forces you to turn your head and look at him, “you’ll ask us when you’re sober.”
It sounds like a promise - a promise that maybe they’ll say yes.
They decide to call it a night after you try to roll your hips and grind on Chan’s crotch once more. He blocks your movements by putting his hands on your waist.
“I think it’s time to go home now,” Changbin announces and Chan nods, adding nothing else, despite your protests and you nearly throwing a tantrum.
-`♡´-
You’re sure they’re not at the dorm. Hyunjin and Jisung, you mean, because the place is oddly quiet and, well, they’re not.
“Time to have a shower and go to bed, tiger,” Changbin chuckles, unlacing his black shoes, the one he wears only when he has somewhere important to go. Those shoes cost a fortune, he told you once.
Changbin has been sleeping on the couch lately. It all started a week ago, after the incident with the pipes at your place - you’ve been staying at their dorm ever since. Not that you’re complaining, really, it’s fun, they’re cool. Changbin offered you his room like a true gentlemen, but you felt guilty that he had to sleep on the couch in his own home, although he told you he was completely fine with it. Changbin is always so selfless, he’s a true sweetheart.
“And remember: tequila is not your friend,” he chuckles, clearly thinking that what you’d told them back at the club was under the influence of the alcohol. It was, but it was also not, you don’t know how to put it.
“I-“ you’re about to say that you truly meant what you said, but it wouldn’t really change anything. Plus, not the atmosphere is kind of lost, it’d be pointless. “Fine, shower and then off to bed, got it.”
They let you shower first. Then Chan, and ultimately, Changbin. You do have to admit that after freshening up, you do feel a lot better - you feel like a completely new person. For starters, it’s as if your headache had magically disappeared, and then, the feeling of your whole body being clean and smelling real nice it’s your favorite in the world. You don’t even think you’re drunk anymore. But the thoughts are still there. Filthy thoughts involving both Changbin and Chan. It doesn’t help that the latter exits the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, and your gaze inevitably falls on his v-line.
You shouldn’t be looking, but you are.
“I, uh… forgot the clothes in my room, heh,” he chuckles, visibly embarrassed that you saw him like this, the tips of his ears are red and so is his face, “be right back.”
“Oh, alright,” you try to play it cool when deep inside - you want nothing more than to wrap your fingers around the knot and then oops, let the towel fall on the floor and reveal his manhood. Then you’d kneel on the floor and take him in your mouth, and he’d grab a fistful of your hair and pull you even closer until you’re gagging on his cock. And then Changbin would finally, finally finish showering and he’d exit the bathroom and he’d join you and Chan and and and…
None of this happens, because Chan practically runs to his room to put some clothes on, unfortunately. You take it as an opportunity to stare at his ass and naked back. You feel like a perv.
Changbin returns to the living room fully clothed, hair wavy and still a bit damp even though he did his best to dry it using a towel. He smiles at you when he sees you sitting on the couch with your phone in your hand, already in your nightwear. He plops on the couch next to you, and before he could open his mouth and say something, Chan is already back, wearing clothes this time.
“How are you feeling?” He asks you.
“Good, great. You were right, that shower did miracles. I’m feeling much better now,” you smile at him.
“Yeah, helps you falling asleep quicker, too,” Changbin points out. “I mean, at least it helps me falling asleep quicker,” he chuckles.
“You already fall asleep pretty quick, though,” you comment, giggling because unlike Chan, Changbin has no problem in falling asleep.
“Alright, I’ll… I guess I’m gonna go to bed,” Chan says.
“Wait!” You exclaim, and he stops in his tracks, tilting his head as he looks at you, waiting for you to speak. “I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but… can we… can we sleep together?” They’re about to open their mouths and protest, when you clarify, “innocently. Just sleep, I promise. It’s just… Changbin’s bed is so cold… you’ll keep me warm, yeah?”
Ugh, how are they supposed to say no to you when you’re looking at them with those big, doe eyes?
“Alright,” Changbin gives in pretty quickly, "I guess we don't want you to freeze to death in your sleep," he shrugs.
Your gaze shifts to Chan. He sighs. “Fine, okay. Just sleeping,” he repeats, as if to remind you.
You nod, smiling widely at him.
-`♡´-
The three of you take turns brushing your teeth, then meet again under the soft covers of Changbin’s king sized bed. You’re lying in between them in the most chaste way ever, the three of you on your phones - a bad habit, especially before bedtime.
“Alright, time to sleep,” Changbin yawns, locking his phone and placing it on his nightstand with a faint thud. You put your phone away too, and ask Changbin to place it on the nightstand as well. He turns to face you for the first time since he slipped under the covers. “Sleep tight, love,” Changbin cups your face and kisses you on the forehead, something he does pretty often.
“Yeah, you better sleep or else your head’s gonna kill you tomorrow,” Chan points out, locking his phone as well, then asking Changbin to put it next to his and yours. “Sweet dreams, babygirl,” Chan whispers, kissing you on the top of your head.
Changbin turns off the light and they both turn to lie on their side, neither of them facing you. You lie there, on your back, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about the fact they’re so close to you. You fall asleep to the sound of Changbin’s faint snores and the scent of Chan’s cologne filling your nostrils.
-`♡´-
Chan is the first to realize you’re having a wet dream, because he was having one, too, until he woke up.
Once he wakes up, he figures he must’ve tossed and turned in his sleep, because his chest is now pressed against your back, and his arm most definitely wasn’t around your waist when he fell asleep. That’s not even the worst part - you’re grinding on him. Just like you did back at the club, sliding your ass up and down his clothed crotch. You’re whimpering, too. And his cock is hard, sitting heavy inside his boxers and, to his surprise, right in between your asscheeks.
His dick is literally in between your asscheeks right now and you’re grinding on it.
He’s about to pull away as gently as possible, trying not to wake you up, when he hears a low grunt coming from Changbin. Chan freezes in his spot. What the fuck is going on right now?
That’s when he lifts his head from the soft pillows and slowly lifts the covers to peek under them and see what’s happening. His eyes widen, his breath hitches. Changbin is now on his back, still very much asleep, just like you. You’re palming his cock over his shorts. Like, your hand is literally cupping him. Chan feels like he should do something. He should do something, right? What kind of friend would he be if he didn’t? Like, c’mon, you’re having a wet dream and you’re also grinding on him while your hand is cupping Changbin's dick. He should do something, yeah. He starts by pulling away from your body, trying not to wake you up, but he fails, because you whine in protest, still asleep.
Then Changbin wakes up, and realizes no, it wasn’t just a dream - there really is a hand cupping his cock right now. Your hand. That’s also when he pulls away from you, abruptly, nearly falling off the bed and gasping loudly.
And that’s when you wake up. Chan wants to punch Changbin hard in the nose. He had everything under control, or so he thought - then Changbin had to go and ruin everything.
“What… what’s going on?” You mumble, then yawn while rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands when Changbin turns on the light of his night lamp, “Is it morning already?”
“Oh, no, no, it’s still dark outside,” Chan says, “go back to sleep, babygirl.”
But then you move a little, squirming in your place to get yourself comfortable, and your butt inevitably meets Chan’s boner and he wants to die. His breath gets caught in his throat, and he mentally facepalms himself. “Oh,” you mumble, lifting your eyebrows in surprise, “you’re hard.”
Chan ignores Changbin's giggling. “Oh, that,” he chuckles, “yeah, sorry about that. You were… moving a lot in your sleep, heh. It just happens, I’m really sorry.”
He’s kind of lying, but it’s okay - you don’t need to know the truth.
“Yeah, i think you were having a dirty dream, love,” Changbin comments and Chan wants to punch him even more now. Is he dumb or what? “You were also grabbing my dick, heh!” Never mind, he clearly can’t read the room.
Oh, a dream - a wet dream. Yeah, you were definitely having one, it was about them. They were all over you, bodies naked and sweaty, licking every inch of your exposed skin while their fingers were all over your most sensitive spots. Chan was taking you from behind in the dream. Your pussy throbs at the memory and you squeeze your thighs as a reflex.
They both notice.
Chan’s cock twitches, while Changbin’s grows even harder to the point it almost hurts. But they won’t do anything about their raging boners, because they’re your best friends and because they’re decent human beings and won’t take advantage of you, no matter how much they want to fuck you.
Well, this is awkward.
“I should… I should probably go to my room,” Chan speaks, sounding visibly embarrassed, and he’s actually about to slip off the covers and get up when he feels your fingers wrap around his wrist.
“Wait,” you call him, your voice soft, “you don’t have to go.”
“But… I mean…”
“My offer still stands, you know?” You murmur, and both Chan and Changbin stop breathing for a few seconds. “If… if you want to. I wasn’t joking back at the club, I really meant what I said. I want to have sex with you. The two of you.”
At the end of the day, Changbin and Chan are just two boys - two boys in their mid-twenties, who find you, their best friend, incredibly hot.
“We can’t, babygirl, you drank a lot tonight,” Chan sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. Changbin stays quiet, but he nods at Chan’s words.
“But I’m sober now,” you say almost a little too quickly. “I promise I’m good, I’m not drunk. I took a shower and drank lots of water. I even took an aspirin. I’m not drunk,” you repeat, as if to convince them you’re telling the truth, which you are, by the way.
“You sure you’re not drunk?” Changbin mumbles from behind you.
You nod your head vigorously, “Positive.”
“One hundred percent sure?” Chan asks, still not entirely convinced - he wants to be absolutely sure you’re not drunk. He wants to fuck you, obviously, and so does Changbin, but it’s important for him to know you want this as much as they do.
“Chan, I’m not, really,” you repeat for what it feels like the hundredth time, rolling your eyes at him. “Look, if you guys don’t want to do it it’s fine, you-“
“We want to,” Changbin is quick to say, sounding almost too eager for his liking, “we want to do it, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
Chan sighs, fidgeting with the bracelet wrapped around his wrist. “It’s just that… we don’t want you to regret this tomorrow. Or ever, actually.”
“Yeah, we… we wouldn’t forgive ourselves if this fucked up our friendship,” Changbin adds, and they both sound sincere. “You’re too important to us, we don’t want to lose you.”
You turn your head to look at Changbin, cupping his cheek in your hand, caressing the soft skin with your thumb. You do the same thing to Chan, now looking at him. “You won’t ever lose me, guys. Ever. Understood?” You look at each of them, and they nod. A smile spreads on your face. “You’re both hot, and I’m horny. If you're down, I'm down.”
Chan clears his throat as his fingers ghost over your hip, unsure whether it’s okay to touch you yet, but once he sees Changbin’s hand on your thigh, caressing you over your pajamas, he finds the courage to do the same.
“Why don’t we start by you telling us about the dream you were having, then, love?” Changbin speaks, his plump lips ghosting your ear, which has you shivering and arching your back as a natural response. You like that, he notes mentally.
“Mhh, sure, but…” you trail, gasping at Changbin’s bluntness when you feel his hand cupping your sex over the clothes, then you bite your lip.
“But?”
“Only if Channie tells us about his dream,” you swear you can see Chan’s cheeks turning red as his eyes widen, making him look like a deer caught in the headlights.
“I- you… I, I wasn’t having a wet dream,” he stutters, and you can’t believe this is the same Chan that has flirted with countless of girls in front of your eyes. He seems like a completely different person now - all flustered and almost embarrassed, ears and cheeks red.
“You so were,” you tease, whispering the words on his lips while nuzzling his nose. “You were literally grinding your dick on me and gripping my waist. You don’t have to be embarrassed, Channie, it’s hot.”
“Fine,” he gives in, admitting his dirty secret. He gets a little distracted by how Changbin is currently placing open-mouthed kisses on your bare shoulder and neck, fingers moving lazily on your pussy, rubbing you slowly and inconsistently, just to tease you. “I’ll… I’ll tell you about the dream, you menace,” he chuckles, tonguing his cheek in a flirty way, looking way more confident now.
Then, his own hand moves to brush your stomach, still over the clothes, and wanders until his fingers ghost over your boobs. You exhale deeply through your nostrils as you feel your nipples harden at the mere thought of Chan touching you there.
“You won’t believe me, but…” you start, latching your lips on Chan’s skin - kissing his collarbone, then his neck. “We were exactly like this, I was right in between you guys,” you hear Changbin grunt from behind you, practically humping your leg now, his cock hard and leaking pre-cum.
“Yeah? What- what else?” Chan mumbles, cupping one of your breasts with his warm hand, pinching your nipple over your tank top. You squeak when he does, and he can literally feel your nipple harden even more, a clear sign that what he just did turns you on, and he doesn’t hesitate to repeat the action. He can’t wait to do it with his teeth as well - the thought drives him absolutely feral.
“I don’t- I don’t remember much,” you sigh, eyes squeezing shut when Changbin bites on your shoulder. “Just that Binnie was fucking me from behind.”
Chan’s eyes roll in the back of his skull when you lick his neck and let your hand wander all over his chest and then down, down, down, all the way until you reach the waistband of his sweats, toying with the hem. “Yeah? Was- was it good? Was Bin fucking you good?” He asks, feeling already kind of dizzy from the way you’re touching and kissing him.
“Mh-hm,” you nod, “he was. I was pressed against you, Channie,” you whimper.
“You want that, yeah?” Changbin asks, his fingers now playing with the hem of your pajamas, ready to slip under the waistband and touch you properly. He’s just waiting for your permission, and you do not hesitate to give it to him by grabbing his wrist and moving his hand so that he���s able to slip the tips of his fingers inside, finally touching you properly.
“You can touch me, Binnie,” you pull away from Chan to look at Changbin and give him a reassuring smile. “I like it when you touch me.”
Changbin nods, and you feel his cock growing even harder against your leg - you can’t wait to feel it inside of you. Changbin’s eyes widen once his fingers finally reach the sensitive spot between your legs, and he can’t help but let out an animalistic grunt as he rests his forehead against your shoulder.
“You’re not wearing panties?” He asks surprised, fingers brushing your naked mound.
Chan’s head snaps to look at you, and his mouth falls open when he sees you’re smirking while shaking your head as a no. “I’m not. I never wear ‘em when I sleep,” you confess a healthy habit you’ve picked up recently.
Changbin continues to touch you lazily, with no intent of making you cum anytime soon. His touch is purely teasing, the pads of his fingers caressing your labia, then your entrance where he finds out, to his surprise, that you’re already wet. Your arousal dampens his fingers, and he can’t wait to dip them in your heat and feel your walls around his digits as he pleasures you.
Still incredulous, Chan blinks at you a couple of times. “Can I… feel it too?”
“Of course you can, Channie,” laying on your back, giving both full access to your body.
Changbin’s still playing with your pussy, his fingers are now on your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud slowly with his middle and ring finger. He smirks when he notices you’re breathing heavily now and squirming in your place because of his touch, it makes him feel proud of himself. And then, as he’s focused on making you feel good, he feels another pair of fingers lightly brushing his - they’re Chan’s. Chan, too, dampens the pads of his fingers by brushing your wet entrance, and before you know it, his middle finger is slipping inside of you.
“You like having your sweet pussy played with, huh?” Changbin smirks, leaving a series of kiss on your shoulder, then your collarbone and finally your neck, where he starts licking and sucking on the soft skin.
“You’re so tight around my finger, oh fuck,” Chan swears, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he keeps sliding his finger in and out of your wet heat, completely soaked in your arousal. “How am I gonna fit inside of you?” He mutters, more to himself, you suppose, but the thought of having his cock inside of you has you clenching around his digit nonetheless.
You feel bad for neglecting their pleasure and, consequently, their cocks, but you have a solution for this. You were given two hands to be able to wrap them around two cocks. “Binnie, Channie,” you call their names, and they both hum, a signal you have their full attention now, but they don’t pull away from your neck, “wanna touch you.”
Chan hisses, palming his hard cock over his sweats with his free hand, while Changbin humps your leg as soon as he hears your words. He wants nothing more right now, and he’s eager as he tries to remove his pajama bottoms and boxers by using only one hand - it takes slightly longer, but he manages to slide them down his legs. Chan does the same, which means they’re now naked beside you, except for their shirts, and they’re still playing with your pussy. You should’ve proposed this way sooner.
“You better not leave marks there,” you tell them, since they don’t seem to have any intention of pulling away from your neck anytime soon, “hickeys are the worst to hide with makeup. I’ll give you something to suck on since you’re both so eager,” you say with a teasing smirk.
Their breaths hitch when you roll your tank top up, freeing your naked breast - nipples already hard both from arousal and the contact with the cold air. The movements of Changbin’s fingers on your clit become even more inconsistent as he latches his lips on your nipple, enveloping the sensitive bud with his hot mouth, swirling his tongue all around it until you start whimpering. He moans loudly when you wrap your fingers around his thick length.
He pulls away, letting your nipple fall from his plump lips only to look down at your hand stroking his cock slowly, your thumb brushing his tip, making him shiver. “Oh fuck, your hand looks so small wrapped around my cock, look,” he whines, throwing his head back in pleasure when you gently squeeze his tip.
You whimper as well at the sight, and to your surprise Chan lifts his head to take a look as well, biting his lip as he watches closely how you stroke his friend’s dick. You assume he’s feeling neglected, so you don’t waste another second in wrapping your other hand around Chan’s cock, and a choked sound leaves his lips as a shiver runs down his spine.
“Fuck, babygirl,” Chan breathes heavily, ghosting your other nipple with his lips, not really touching it, only teasing you, “you want to kill me, you’re gonna kill me.”
Chan’s cock is longer, but Changbin’s thicker and it feels heavier overall - you want to wrap your lips around them both and suck them dry. You’re distracted from your thoughts by a second finger rubbing at your entrance. Chan lets it slip inside of you, before mumbling something along the lines of I need to get you nice and ready to take our cocks baby, pussy ’s so tight. You don’t mind it of course, and let him fuck you with his fingers as Changbin rubs your clit while you stroke both of their cocks.
“Have I already told you you’ve got the sweetest tits?” Changbin mutters, taking your nipple back in his mouth and giving it a long suck.
The desperate moan you let out encourages Chan to play with your other nipple. At first, he teases it by simply brushing his lips over it, grinning from ear to ear when he sees your body shaking as a reaction. Then he decides to take the teasing to the next level by letting his own spit fall on your bud, coating it entirely - and then he blows on it. By the way you just clenched around his fingers, you must like it - so he does it again. You throw your head back in the cushions and breathe heavily - you also get wetter around his fingers, to the point the whole palm of his hand is coated in your arousal.
“Taste her, hyung,” Changbin encourages him, pupils full blown and pussydrunk already, “she’s got the sweetest tits, ‘m not kidding. Taste her,” he repeats, and Chan nods, then he obliges, closing his mouth around your nipple.
His eyes flutter shut as he sucks on your nipple making obnoxious, wet sounds - and then you feel his teeth scraping your sensitive skin slightly, making you shiver. “Channie,” you whine, squeezing his cock and he moans around your nipple.
“Spit, love,” you register Changbin telling you. You open your eyes, and find him holding his fingers at the height of your chin. You’re feeling so many things at once you didn’t even notice he’d stopped playing with your clit. You do as Changbin said and spit on his fingers, and then you feel them back on your clit - your toes curl instinctively as soon as he starts to rub you once again. “I think it’s time we made you cum, hm?”
You nod eagerly, turning your head to look Changbin in the eyes. “Wanna cum around your cocks, though.” They both grunt, and Chan pulls away from your nipple. You shiver at the contact with the cold air once again.
“You don’t want to cum like this?” Changbin asks, and you shake your head as a no. “Okay then, who do you want first?”
“Channie,” you whine, “want him to fuck me from behind,” you whine, and he feels weak already at the mere mental image of what you just described to him. He can’t wait to see how you look when you’re getting fucked, he bets you look divine.
Chan leaves a series of kisses on your chest, collarbone and shoulder, and even though they both stopped playing with your pussy, his fingers are still buried deep inside of you. When he pulls them out, you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. They slide your pajama bottoms down your legs, finally revealing your nakedness to their lust-filled eyes.
“I think it should be a crime to not taste this pretty pussy before filling it,” Changbin comments, positioning himself right between your legs to get a quick taste of your sweet sex while you and Chan take the rest of your clothes off.
Changbin licks his plump lips before he wraps them around your clit. His tongue teases your slit a couple of times, collecting your arousal on his tongue before swallowing it gladly, and then he resumes playing with your most sensitive part, rubbing it with his wet and hot tongue. “So sweet,” he comments, pulling away for a few seconds before burying his face in your sex once again.
You entangle your fingers in his dark hair, tugging at it as he continues lapping at your pussy. You don’t complain when Chan cups your cheek with his hand and pulls you in for a wet kiss, and you moan into his mouth when he moves his hand to pinch your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb.
“You wanna hear about the dream I was having?” Chan pants, kissing your jawline, then the sensitive spot behind your ear. You nod eagerly, not sure you’re able to respond properly right now. “I was fucking you exactly like you said. I was taking you from behind,” Chan grunts. “I was… I was pounding your tight pussy real hard, babygirl, you were moaning my name so loud.”
You feel close already - both from the feeling of Changbin’s mouth on you and from Chan’s filthy words. “I wan’ it,” you pant, inevitably jerking your hips up - not that Changbin complains. “Want you to fuck me, Channie. Like you did in your dream.”
Changbin pulls away from your clit, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. He grins, placing one last, chaste kiss right on your clit before laying back on the mattress. “The sweetest pussy… you really have to taste her, Chan-hyung.”
But Chan can’t honestly wait to fuck you. The three of you position yourselves on your side - Chan behind you, gripping your waist with one hand as he strokes his cock with the other, and you’re facing Changbin, impatient to get filled by Chan’s cock.
“Bin, hand me a condom,” Chan asks his friend, and you raise your eyebrows because fuck, you’d completely forgotten about protection, which is so unlike you. Changbin turns to open a drawer of his nightstand, but you stop him by grabbing his wrist.
“We can do it raw,” you say, and you see them both raising their eyebrows at you, surprised. “I mean- if you’re okay with that. I’m clean, and I trust you guys. I know you’re responsible when it comes to this kind of things.” It’s true - they’re men and they’re horny, but they’re not stupid when it comes to sex and protection.
“I’m clean,” Chan says, kissing your bare shoulder.
“Me too, of course,” Changbin quickly adds, tacking a strand of your hair behind your ear so that he can look into your eyes.
“I’m putting it in, then, is that okay?” Chan murmurs from behind you, the tip of his nose brushing the nape of your neck, which has you arching your back.
You nod, and then you feel it. Chan grips the base of his cock and lets it slide a couple of times up and down your entrance to make sure it’s wet enough so that he doesn’t hurt you when he pushes it inside. His tip brushes your clit a couple of times, and you yelp in surprise, burying your face in Changbin’s chest.
Changbin guesses Chan must’ve positioned himself at your entrance by the way your breath hitches and also by how you’re digging your fingernails in his biceps. “Wait, let me see you,” Changbin says, pulling away from your body only to look at your face properly, “I want to see your face when you get cock inside of you.”
He’s not prepared for the way your eyes roll in the back of your head once Chan pushes the tip of his cock inside your tight walls. Your lips part, and a shaky breath falls from them while Chan keeps filling you up with his thick length, slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of his veiny cock until he bottoms out inside of you. His other hand comes to rest on your hip as he presses his forehead against your shoulder and takes a deep breath.
“You look so fucking hot when you’re taking cock, you know?” Changbin comments, caressing your cheek, before he taps your thumb on your lips a couple of times. You immediately wrap your lips around it, swirling your tongue around it, and Changbin mutters something under his breath - probably a couple of swear words.
Behind you, Chan pulls almost all the way out before bottoming out inside of you once again, while gripping your hips tight. His chest is pressed flat against your skin as he rolls his hips to meet yours, thrusting his cock inside of you all the way until your asscheeks are practically squished against his pelvis and abdomen.
“You’re so tight, it’s unreal,” Chan grunts, rolling his hips once more.
Changbin can’t wait to feel you wrapped around his cock. He latches his lips on the skin of your neck, pressing his chest against yours as he kisses and bites on your skin, surely leaving marks on your collarbone as you continue to suck on his thumb, wishing it was his cock instead. Then his lips ghost over your jawline, then the corner of your mouth, and ultimately, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and kisses you. It’s filthy, the way he’s kissing you, licking your mouth, sucking on your tongue, until there’s drool all over your mouth and chin. Chan keeps fucking you from behind, pushing you on Changbin’s chest as the two of you continue making out shamelessly - you moaning into Changbin’s mouth every time Chan delivers a particularly sharp thrust inside of you.
“You really like kissing- Changbin, don’t you?” Chan asks through labored breaths, whispering the words in your ear, smirking cockily when he feels you shiver. “Like having him all over you while I fuck you, babygirl?”
You nod, whimpering in Changbin’s mouth as Chan’s hips snap into yours at a quick pace. Changbin smirks at you, somehow turned on by his friend fucking you so intensely you have to cling onto his arm, squeezing the muscles tight when you feel yourself getting closer to your high.
“Bin, fuck, make her cum, quick,” Chan pants from behind you, his sweaty, hot, naked body pressed against yours. “Rub her clit, I’m so close.”
Changbin smirks, placing one last kiss on your mouth before he shifts on the bed so that he can comfortably reach your clit to rub it - not without spitting saliva on his fingers, of course. He touches the sweet spot in between your thighs with a disarming delicacy despite Chan’s hard thrusts, with slow and precise movements up and down the hood of your clit. At the same time, he takes the opportunity to capture one of your nipples between his lips, stimulating it with his tongue as he gently works you up towards your orgasm.
“Channie,” you turn your head to look at him despite the sharp pain in your neck due to the uncomfortable position. He looks breathtaking, with locks of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and eyes rolled back as he bites on his lip. He opens his eyes as soon as you moan his name, and he looks even more pussydrunk now, with full-blown pupils. “Kiss,” you pout.
You don’t need to say it twice, because Chan doesn’t waste another second in placing his lips on yours, biting on your lip now as he continues to move inside of you at a relentless pace. Changbin doesn’t stop rubbing your clit, although he can’t help but feel a bit jealous and neglected right now you figure, by the way he’s once again humping your leg, moving his hard and leaking cock up and down your thigh.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whine, pulling away from the kiss abruptly, chest rising and falling heavily as you throw your head back in the pillow. You entangle your fingers in both Chan’s and Changbin’s hair as you feel your orgasm approaching quickly. “Binnie, don't stop, you- you’re gonna make me cum,” you whimper, and Changbin only rubs your clit harder.
“Yeah, that’s right, cum,” Chan breathes heavily, gripping your hips even tighter as he moves swiftly inside of you while filthy, squelching sounds bless your ears. “Cum around me like the good girl you are, c’mon,” he encourages you.
Changbin lets go of your nipple and starts kissing your collarbone and neck instead, and then your jawline, and then your lips, pecking them a couple of times as he rubs your clit faster until you come around Chan’s cock with a sob of their names, burying your face in Changbin’s chest as your whole body shakes and trembles.
“I’m close, ‘m close, where…”
“Inside, you can do it inside,” you respond without thinking twice, too lost in the feeling of his cock pounding you and pressing you against Changbin with each snap of his hips.
Chan’s hips still as he releases inside of you, grunting loudly as he bites on your shoulder. His cum fills your pussy up to the brim and even more, to the point it inevitably starts to leak, dripping on your ass and onto the bedsheets. He stays buried deep inside of you for a few seconds while he tries to regain his breath, breathing heavily as he rests his forehead against your spine, occasionally leaving open-mouthed kissing on your sweaty and pearlescent skin. Eventually, your body stops shaking, and you both come down from your orgasms under the attentive stare of Changbin.
“I thought you were the prettiest when you’re getting fucked, but clearly I was wrong,” Changbin chuckles, running his fingers through your hair, kissing you on top of your head as he envelops your figure with his strong arms. “The sight of your pretty face when you’re cumming is out of this world, love.”
Chan pulls out of you slowly, gasping at the feeling of his cum oozing out of you as soon as the tip is out. He takes time leaving small pecks on your shoulder and back as he wraps his arms around you. You’re completely surrounded by them and it’s the best feeling in the world, to lie there in their arms while they hug and kiss you like you mean the world to them. You really do, by the way.
“What do you say, babygirl… is it time for Bin to feel your sweet pussy? I bet it’ll drive him crazy how tight you feel,” Chan smirks after a several seconds, his now flaccid cock resting peacefully against your asscheeks.
You nod, lifting your eyes to meet Changbin’s. “Wan’ you now, Binnie.”
He looks down at you, then places a kiss right in the middle of your eyebrows. “You sure? You’re not feeling too tired?” He checks in on you to make sure you’re absolutely sure. He can wait. He’s impatient, sure, but he can wait - it’s an oxymoron, yes, but he’s not an asshole.
“Not that much, I can take it,” you mumble, allowing your hand to wander until it wraps around Changbin’s hard cock. He gasps, then bites his lip to the point he can nearly taste blood in his mouth.
“Fine, okay. Okay, we’re doing this,” Changbin mumbles. “But we’re doing it my way.”
He doesn’t give you the time to ask what does he mean by that, because you soon feel his strong arms gripping your waist, turning your body until you’re now lying on the opposite side, now facing Chan, who scoots closer. For a second there, you think he’s gonna fuck you exactly like Chan did, but you’re mistaken. Changbin circles your waist with his strong arm, pressing your body against his to the point it almost looks like you’re melted together, and hooks his other arm under your knee, spreading your legs wide. Chan’s cum is still leaking from inside of you, and it feels ticklish on your skin, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Changbin’s positioning the head of his thick cock at your entrance.
“‘M gonna go slow,” he says, nibbling your ear as he pushes his cockhead inside your hole, “stop me if it’s too much.”
It’s a stretch, there’s no doubt about it. Sure, Chan’s cock is thick, but it’s nowhere nearly as thick as Changbin’s. You gasp when he pushes another inch inside of you.
Chan, in front of you, grunts, while keeping his eyes on you. “You were right, Bin, oh my God. She looks so good when she’s taking cock,” he whimpers, caressing your cheek as he witnesses all of the faces you make while Changbin bullies his cock inside of your tight hole, practically using Chan’s cum as lube. “Does Bin’s cock feel good inside your pretty pussy?”
You nod, leaning into his touch, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you look at him with big eyes and lips slightly parted. “Feels big,” you whine, “feels so big inside of me, daddy.”
The word slips casually, but Chan’s eyebrows lift nonetheless as soon as he registers it. Who are you calling daddy right now? Him? Changbin? It doesn’t really matter to Chan, because he finds it hot either way.
Changbin’s head snaps up to meet Chan’s eyes and he grins too, before leaning in to say in your ear. “You calling him daddy when my cock’s inside of you, love?” He teases, pushing his cock further inside of you, letting out an animalistic grunt at how tight you feel around him.
“‘M sorry, Binnie- daddy,” you correct yourself, “you’re both just so daddy, ‘m sorry.”
“Ah, it’s okay, sweet girl,” Changbin chuckles, spreading your legs even more to have better access to your pussy - he’s almost all the way in.
“Fuuuuck, look at that, babygirl,” Chan can’t help but stare at where your body meets Changbin’s, amazed by how his friend’s cock is stretching you out. It looks painful to him, but by the way you’re whimpering and whining he guesses it just feels pleasant to you. “He’s destroying your pussy, oh my God.”
The three of you moan when Changbin bottoms out. Him, because yours is the tightest pussy he’s ever felt. You, because it’s the fullest you’ve ever been. Chan, because the sight before his eyes is absolutely breathtaking - his friend holding your leg up in the air as he sinks in deeper and deeper, your face contorting in pleasure. It won’t take long before he’s hard again.
“‘M not hurting you, love, am I?” Changbin’s head snaps in your direction after hearing Chan’s words.
You shake your head as a no. “No, it feels good. Feel so full,” you mumble, smiling at him, then at Chan.
Changbin finally bottoms out, and his head feels dizzy already. You’re so hot around him, and Chan’s cum is still inside of you - he can feel it leaking from your hole as he gives a first, tentative thrust. He grunts, you whine, staring into Chan’s eyes. He scoots closer, resting his head on his elbow as he watches closely your reactions to Changbin’s movements inside of you. Your eyes roll in the back of your head every time he bottoms out, and Chan can’t help but wonder if you had the same look when he was the one fucking you.
“You took it like a champ, didn’t you, babygirl?” He asks, gaze dropping once again to look at your most intimate part of your body. “You look absolutely gorgeous stuffed full of cock,” he compliments you, you guess.
He nuzzles your nose with his, and lets himself get lost in the feeling of lust when you pull him closer to crash your lips on his. You moan into his mouth as Changbin rails you, holding you in place firmly with his arm that’s wrapped around your waist, as he thrusts every inch of his cock inside of you.
“I can’t wait to stuff you full of cum,” Changbin comments, his own head spinning as he feels his balls tighten, ready to empty himself inside of your sweet heat. “Been thinkin’ about it since we were at the club and you were shoving your pretty tits in my face, love.”
You smile into the kiss, because that was exactly your purpose - making them both horny for you. Mission accomplished. Chan doesn’t verbally admit it, but by the way he’s slowly nodding and biting your lip you’re sure it was the same for him.
“Then I win,” you mumble, pulling away from the kiss to cup both their faces in your hands, “because I’ve been thinking about doing this for literal months,” you grin.
Changbin speeds up his movements inside of you, somehow the idea of you being so eager to do this makes him even more impatient. He thrusts and thrusts inside of you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he bites on the soft skin to muffle the grunts that leave his mouth.
“Hyung, make her cum, God,” he pants, feeling his cock twitch inside of you and his balls tighten even more. “Eat her out, hyung. Lick her pussy, quick,” desperation is evident in his tone.
Chan is a little taken aback by his younger friend’s words, and he blinks a couple of times. Then, it’s as if something had snapped inside of him, because he doesn’t waste another second before diving in your pussy, wrapping his plump lips around your clit and sucking hard. Somehow, he doesn’t really seem to care that his friend’s cock is just right there, a couple of inches away from him - the only thought inside his head right now is making you cum. It’s his only mission.
Changbin feels you clench around his cock, and he grins, even though you can’t see him. “Yeah, let go for me, love,” he encourages you, “for us,” he corrects himself when Chan pinches his thigh.
Chan’s tongue repeatedly swirls around your sensitive bud, and with the help of his thumb, he has you cumming in literal seconds. No wonder all of his exes were pissed when he broke things off with them - his head game is just too good. Chan pulls away from your clit, a string of saliva connecting it to his mouth as he continues to rub it with his thumb while witnessing the sight of your pussy spasming around Changbin’s cock.
“Like that, squeeze my cock like that,” Changbin cries, thighs shaking as he feels so close to his orgasm, “‘m fucking cumming, oh."
Changbin, too, bites on your shoulder when he finally shoots his load deep inside your pussy. The movements of his hips halt completely as he holds you close to his chest while his cock throbs. He finishes inside of you with four or five hot spurts of his seed - his own cum mixing with Chan’s, filling you up to the brim.
Chan lies down facing you once again, still able to taste you on his tongue. He pulls your hair back from your face as he scoots closer and you rest your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Changbin, in the meantime, pulls out of you, not even caring about the mess on the sheets. You all need another shower anyway, and the sheets need to be changed. But right now you don’t care, not when you have both their arms wrapped around of you. Chan is playing with your hair while Changbin is peppering your back with soft kisses.
“How are you feeling, babygirl?” Chan asks you, kissing the tip of your nose.
“‘M sleepy,” you yawn, getting more comfortable in their embrace.
“Yah, don’t fall asleep!” Changbin shakes your body lightly, trying to keep you awake. “We need to change the sheets and shower, again.”
“Only if we shower together,” you mumble, eyes already closing, “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand to be honest," you giggle.
They both chuckle, then help you sit up on the bed, and then they help you get dressed. “Wait for us in the bathroom while we change the sheets, babygirl. We’ll be there in a minute,” Chan tells you, and you nod, opening the bedroom door and stepping outside.
On your way to the bathroom, you bump into someone, and a gasp leaves your mouth when realization hits you. The tall man in front of you looks absolutely pissed, as he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. Fuck, you thought you were alone in the apartment.
“Please, for the love of God, don’t do that ever again,” Hyunjin glares at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “It's three a.m., some of us would like to sleep.”
You nod quickly, too embarrassed to say anything as you step inside the bathroom and start the shower. But when Chan and Changbin close the bathroom door behind their figures and strip down naked and join you under the hot stream of water, you’re one hundred percent sure it’s not gonna be the last time.
-`♡´-
-> 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬! "𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧", 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝.
#changbin fanfiction#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan smut#bangchan fanfic#bang chan fanfic#seo changbin smut#changbin smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids#skz#stray kids masterlist#skz masterlist#changbin hard thoughts#seo changbin hard hours#changbin hard hours#seo changbin hard thoughts#changbin x reader#changbin x you#seo changbin x reader#changbin x reader smut#bang chan hard thoughts#bang chan hard hours#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fic#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids drabbles
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girl dad 🎀 (b.c)
i had seen a tik tok with chan and the twins, and how he's a girl dad 🥹 so, i had come up with this idea 🫢 i hope you guys like it 🩷
feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰
~
You've been sitting in your car for twenty minutes, trying to get yourself to stop crying. One hand covers your mouth, quieting your sobs while the other gently rubs your tiny baby bump. You're fourteen weeks pregnant, and you just found out what you and Chan are having.
Your phone vibrates in your vehicle's cup holder, seeing Chan's name on the screen. You wipe your tears and take a deep breath before answering his call.
“Hey, baby,” you greet him, smiling to yourself.
“Hi, my baby,” Chan's voice makes your heart flutter. “Have you made it to the studio yet? How did the appointment go? I'm sorry I couldn't go with you.”
You giggle and lean back against the seat, turning your head to look out the window. “It's okay, baby. I forgot you had a schedule this morning. It went well. I have another sonogram photo to show you,” you inform him on how it went, leaving out the part where you learned whether your baby’s a girl or a boy.
“That's good. I can't wait to see our bean,” he giggles into the receiver, making you giggle as well. “We're just about to start filming, so I wanted to let you know that you're free to come in. I gave your name to security.”
You turn your vehicle off, feeling yourself calmer after talking to your boyfriend. “Okay, baby. I just pulled in, so I'll be there in a few. I love you,” you smooch.
“I love you so much. As soon as I have a free moment, I'm kissing you,” he mentions, having missed his morning kisses due to both of you being busy.
You're walking towards the building, and you shake your head. “I'm not going to complain,” you laugh, bidding him goodbye.
You slip your phone into your back pocket, giving the guard your name. He lets you in without any trouble, thankfully, and you make your way towards the room they're recording in.
When you finally reach the place Chan and Felix are in, you notice that they've already started recording. You look through the window of the door, seeing your boyfriend sitting cross-legged on the floor with the twins in his lap.
Tears pool in your eyes as you gently rub your belly, thinking of how it'll be when she's born. “Is this what parent life will look like?” You ask no one in particular, taking a quick glance down at your barely noticeable bump.
You chew on your lip as you walk into the room, the squeals of the girls reaching your ears. Chan's eyes meet yours, and he smiles at you fondly.
You wave at him before crossing your arms over your chest. Felix and Chan's manager grabs a chair for you to sit in, knowing that you're pregnant. You thank Skijigi quietly and take a seat.
The recording didn't last much longer, the two boys having a snack with the twins before they headed out. You stay in your seat when Chan walks over to you, greeting you with a kiss.
“Have you been crying?” He asks, noticing the redness around your eyes. His fingertips gently stroke your skin, a frown etching onto his lips.
“I can't get anything past you, can I?” You chuckle, shaking your head. Chan shakes his head as well, looking around to see the staff slowly filtering out. “It's nothing bad, I promise.”
Your hand grabs his, intertwining your fingers together before squeezing his hand. “The baby's okay?” He asks, stroking the back of your hand.
“Yes, absolutely,” you tell him, standing up from your chair. You bring your conjoined hands to your stomach, letting him feel your bump. “She is doing fantastic.”
His head snaps up, a gasp leaving his plump lips. “She? We're having a girl?” Chan whispers, his hands moving to your waist. “Are we really having a baby girl?”
Tears pool in both of your eyes, and you nod your head, confirming. “We're gonna have a little girl,” you cry out, laughing as you do. “You're going to be such a wonderful girl dad.”
Your fingers stroke his cheek, smiling up at him as you wipe his tears. Chan's lip quivers, bringing you into his chest. “I can't believe we're gonna have a girl,” he sniffles, gliding his hands on your lower back. “I hope she looks just like you.”
You pull back enough to look at him, smiling softly. “I hope she has your smile and dimples,” you giggle, leaning on your toes to kiss his lips.
“I can't wait to tell the kids,” he laughs, pressing chaste kisses on your lips. “They were so convinced that we'll have a boy.”
You burst out laughing, combing your fingers through his hair. “Let's go prove them wrong,” you wink, pulling away from him completely. Chan swiftly grabs your hand as the two of you walk out of the room together.
“After we tell them you want to get dinner?” He asks, kissing the back of your conjoined hands.
Your heart flutters in your chest, nodding your head, yes. “I'd love to, baby,” you grin, leaning your head on his arm. “I love you.”
Chan kisses your head and squeezes your hand. “I love you, baby.”
~
tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n
#bang chan#bang chan imagine#bang chan imagines#bang chan x reader#bang chan x you#bang chan x y/n#bang chan scenarios#bang chan drabbles#bang chan fluff#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan fanfic#bang chan fic#stray kids#stray kids imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fic#stray kids drabbles#stray kids fluff#stray kids scenarios
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Take My Offer?
Boyfriend!Bang Chan x AFAB!Reader
Genre: Smut? It's suggestive but also sweet??
Words Count: 1k + Fake texts
Warnings: Jealousy, Mentions of cheating
note: Chan is referred to as Chris + No use of Y/N
a/n: This started as a fake text but then I thought it might be better if I wrote it? So I did both.
✧ Masterlist ✧
You thought it was a good idea to bring Chris to your best friend's housewarming party. He’s never really met your full circle of friends so you figured that this would be the best opportunity to show him off. You’d never admit it to anyone but you were really looking forward to seeing the look on your not-so-close friends' faces when you walked in with Chris on your arm and their reactions certainly did not disappoint. Almost everyone had to do a double take when you introduced them to your man but the glowing crown of victory was swiftly knocked off of your head when you saw her.
The girl that makes it a mission to flirt with or even steal anyone’s boyfriend that she can and of course that’s the girl that Chris ends up bumping into in the kitchen. He left you on the couch to grab you both a brownie from the snack display and now he’s got her laughing about god knows what with that damned smirk on his lips. That smirk is for you only. Why is he giving it out like candy to women he doesn’t even know!
That was enough for you to text him and now you’re here, watching with crossed arms as he excuses himself from the conversation, nodding his head towards her politely before setting his sights on you. He’s quick as he crosses the room, taking his previous seat beside you and sighing when you turn away from him.
“What was this about me cheating on you?” His breath is hot on your neck as he whispers to you. The feeling mixed with the sound of his voice is almost enough to sweep your annoyance under the rug. Almost.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.” He snakes his arm around you and pulls you into his side, ignoring the ogling eyes of your friends scattered across the living room. “You seemed real comfortable over there.”
“I was being friendly, baby.” His light chuckle earns an eye roll from you. “I never pinned you as the jealous type.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Then why did you insinuate that I’m cheating on you with a woman that I just met?”
“You were smiling at her.” He raises an eyebrow as he takes a second to study you. Are you really upset at him? “Look at me.” His voice is soft but there’s a certain ring to it that you can’t quite put your finger on but that doesn’t matter because you don’t plan to listen anyway.
“Babygirl.” He calls for your attention and sighs when you continue to ignore him. You part your lips to speak but the words die on your tongue when he takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to turn your gaze to his. “Listen to me, okay?”
You huff a breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding as you maintain eye contact with him. You’re still mad but looking deep into Chris’ honey eyes is not something that you could ever pass up. They’re just sparkly and pretty and - what the fuck, you’re supposed to be mad at him.
“I’m yours.” His voice is loud enough that anyone standing by you could hear him and you’re more than positive that a couple people around you did actually hear his profession. “Only yours, always yours. No one else here catches my eye.”
You’re hanging onto his every word like velcro and you can’t help but to feel your heart - and something else - flutter at the sound of his voice. “Want me to stop smiling at people?” He asks, a smirk adorning the very lips that your ‘friend’ was staring at.
“Just her.” You huff another breath as you allow yourself to melt a bit into his touch. He moves his hand from your face so that it’s resting on your thigh. Tracing over the skin peaking through the slit in your skirt. “She’s a total homewrecker. Can’t be trusted with anyone’s man.”
Chris nods his head slowly as the information sinks in. “That explains why she asked how long we’ve been dating and if we live together.”
“She did what?” Your blood is boiling in an instant and your eyes start darting around the room to find that ratty woman but Chris steals your gaze back before your eyes land on her.
“Don’t worry about her.”
“But she -”
“I don’t even remember her name, baby.” He scoots a bit closer to you which seems impossible with the way that he’s practically a part of your body already. “I don’t remember anything about her. Every other woman is featureless compared to you.”
The blush on your cheeks lets Chris know that he’s successfully talked you down from your ledge of anger but you keep your fake attitude to maintain the edge that you had before. You can’t let him off that easily. “You can stop sucking up to me now.”
“Do you believe me?” He smirks down at you and you avert your gaze to avoid smiling like an idiot. Maybe you can let him off that easily cause he’s sweet and he loves you or whatever - Ahh gosh he totally loves you. “Yes, I believe you.”
You roll your eyes with a smile and Chris laughs at your attempt to sass him. “I have an offer for you.” You stare back at him with pinched brows but his smile doesn’t waver. “Let’s get out of here and I’ll show you that I don’t care for anyone else but you.”
You smile in an attempt to distract him from the way that you shiver in his hold. “What did you have in mind?” He leans closer, his lips brushing the shell off your ear.
“Take a picture of me tasting your pretty cunt.” Your thighs press together, his filthy words and his husky voice whispering in your ear can and most likely will turn you into niagara falls if he keeps it up. “Then send it to whoever you think wants me.”
“Are you serious?” You whisper back and he pulls back to catch your gaze. He doesn’t even need to verbally confirm his offer, the look in his eyes is telling enough.
“So serious.” He leans in, placing a quick kiss to your lips. “Wanna take the offer?”
Thanks for reading! Reblogs, Comments and Likes mean the world to me and make my day!
#bang chan x reader#bangchan smut#bang chan smut#bang chan hard thoughts#stray kids fake texts#stray kids#skz#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#stray kids headcanons#skz fake texts#skz smut#bang chan stray kids#skz x reader#stray kids hard hours#skz hard thoughts#bang chan fake texts#bang chan scenarios#skz imagines#stray kids scenarios#bang chan#bang chan fanfic#bang chan fanfiction#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fic#bangchan skz#skz scenarios#stray kids chan#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids imagines
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crying over you - drowning in my tears in my bedroom
𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: bang chan x f.reader
↳ even after a bad fight he’ll still come to you to protect you during a thunderstorm.
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: established relationship
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst and crying
𝐚𝐧: I wrote this trying to get passed my writers block. I might write more short stories for the other boys. If you would like to join any of my Stray Kids taglist please fill out this form.
𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.
You had another fight. This one was over something stupid and you were both very aware of it as you laid in separate rooms both replaying the fight over in your head. You were both way too stubborn to go and apologize. One of your biggest flaws was that you’re stubborn, and it didn’t help that he was just as stubborn as you.
In the last few months you had had a couple of big fights, but this felt like the biggest one you had ever had. You both said things knowing that they would cut deep and now you're both left broken over it. Your relationship wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows but you knew you loved Chan so you always fought to make things work. You always tried your hardest to fix things, even Chan tried his hardest, but you were starting to wonder if it was all worth it. Was going to sleep crying worth this relationship.
You laid in silence staring at the ceiling wanting to tell him you were sorry but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Tears slid down your cheek needing him more then you had ever needed him but you couldn’t get out of bed to admit it. Swallowing back tears, you wondered if he was even worth fighting for anymore. You loved him with all your heart but at that moment, you hated him too. Even during your other fights, you had never gone to bed in a separate room. You always managed to kiss and make up, but you felt like this time there might not be any more making up. There was a stabbing feeling in your chest that this might truly be the end of you and Chan. You weren’t ready for your relationship to be over, but you’re hurt.
A clash of thunder struck outside your window making you jump. You hated thunder and it scared you even as an adult. Normally Chan would hold you during thunderstorms to make you feel safe, but tonight you laid in an empty bed in your guest room.
Curling up under your blankets you prayed sleep would soon find you. Thunder shook the window and you held your eyes closed tightly. You wanted to get up and run to Chan but you were still too headstrong to do it. Even when you’re scared you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
The sound of the bedroom door opening caused you to open your eyes. The bed dipped down next to you and you stayed completely still, not even bothering to look over at him crawling into the bed. A strong arm went around your soft torso and pulled you against his body. Another clash of thunder caused you to shiver against him.
Tightening his grip on you he whispered, “it’s okay.”
Tears slid down your cheek at the fact he came to your rescue even after the last words you had said to him in the living room were yelling you hated him. Closing your eyes, you held onto his arm as the storm ragged on outside.
-
He wanted to say something else to you but at that moment, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even plan on going into your room until maybe the morning. He wasn’t even sure you could work it out after the fight you had, but when the thunder started shaking the windows he knew you shouldn’t be alone. Swallowing his pride, he went to the girl he loved who needed him.
“Do you still hate me?” he whispered, wanting to know if you were going to be okay.
Tears continued to fall as you shook your head. “I never did,” you said, speaking to him for the first time.
“I know we both said some things that cut deep, but just know I love you,” he whispered.
“Okay,” you whispered as tears continued to fall. You couldn’t bring yourself to say you loved him for some reason at that moment. It might have been because you were still hurt, but you ultimately did still love him.
“Let’s get some sleep and we’ll work this out in the morning,” he sighed before pressing his lips to the top of your head.
“Are you always going to love me? Even when we fight?” You whisper.
He’s silent for a moment and holds you tighter. “I’m always going to love you, even after we fight.”
“Okay that’s good, because I’m worried you’ll stop loving me after this.” There’s a tight feeling in your chest that maybe one day he’ll get tired of fighting with you and stop loving you.
“We’re gonna work on stopping these fights. I want us to be together forever and know arguing isn’t healthy, but we can work on that together.” There is another clash of thunder that shakes the window. Whimpering you grip his arm holding on to him tightly. “Baby girl, it's okay.”
“I love you, and I want us to work it out,” tears stream down your face as you tell him you love him.
Ever so gently he presses his lips to the back of your neck. Closing your eyes you push back your tears. “Baby stop crying, we’re gonna be okay. We’ll fix this,” he says between gentle kisses on the back of your neck.
“Okay.”
Thunder continued to shake your windows as the storm continued all night. Chan never left your side comforting you. When morning came he reminded you that he loves you and that he truly wants to work things out. You know you’re gonna have to fight to make things work, but it’s worth it because you love him.
#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagine#bang chan#bang chan x reader#bang chan angst#bang chan insert reader#bang chan fanfiction#stray kids insert reader#stray kids angst#stray kids fanficion#my writing#Chan writing
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