#racer minho | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skzdarlings · 3 months

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bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

Sure, you are a little insufferable.

But Lee Minho is worse.

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally. Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night.

You were content until this fucker came along. Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals. Ugh. You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you. The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women. You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.

He arrives with his usual entourage. A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle. He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches. He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance. His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say. “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer. He laughs sarcastically.

“Not worth the mileage,” he says. He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim. “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.” He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him.

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot. Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too. It was inevitable. You were hostile when first meeting. You challenged him to a few too many personal races. You were a sore loser and even worse winner. What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry.

You won the last couple races. You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again.

“Sure,” you say. “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.”

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back.

You decide to keep your distance tonight. If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm. So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings.

But, ugh.

He is right there.

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air. When you are looking at him, he captivates you. When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again. You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters.

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy. Not a single race has satisfied you. You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough. It is never enough. You already know how good you are. You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded.

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho. The only victory that matters is that one.

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him. He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming. He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away.

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face. When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation. He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car. He shakes his head as you stomp up to him.

“One race,” you say.

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.” He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave.

“Wait,” you say.

You heart is racing. Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night. Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs. Stupid hottie. You will have him and his attention. You will get the better of him, one way or another. It was all leading to this.

“One race,” you say. “A bet worth the mileage.”

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply.

Finally, he closes the car door. He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth.

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you. The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body.

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking. Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize.

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue. It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing. You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way. But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings.

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut. No, lower. Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess. Heat that is curious about the look in his eye.

Then you shake your head. You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off. You were in control and now you are flustered.

“Not me,” you snap.

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up. He meets your gaze eventually. Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you.

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality. “I bet my car.”

He blinks at you. Long, slow blinks like a cat. It takes him a second to find a sentence.

“Your car,” he says. He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy. “And what do you want if you win?”

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say. The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth. You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy. You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered. “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides.

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone. It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead. You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other. It is intense and all-consuming.

You hold out a hand. He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says. “Since it’s the truth. You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock. You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind. Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual. He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car.

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention.

The heat rushes back in a hurry. You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs.

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words. You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other. You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed. Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight. You bet your car. What were you thinking?

You weren’t. And it was all his fault.

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him. You smack the steering wheel with frustration.

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline. Thoughts like that are not like you. And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want. Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want. He is always the highlight of your night.

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser.

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car.

He is not gloating because he is not the type. He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you. He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies.

“You got in my head on purpose.”

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist.

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt. “I bet myself.”

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again. Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat.

“You,” he finally says. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?”

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy. It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate.

You cross your arms stubbornly. You look away. You even stomp your foot.

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap.

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone. “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer. You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch. Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy. Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite. It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his. You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes.

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says. He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil. “I don’t have to make bets. I make love to people because they want it. Sorry.” He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat. “You can keep your car. I don’t want or need it. Good night.”

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it. He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely.

“Now, now,” he says.

“I’m a big girl,” you snap. “I don’t need you protecting my honour. I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.”

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes. He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says.

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels.

“I heard you,” you say.

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time. You take a step back.

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step. Step by step across the tarmac. The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours.

You find it difficult to catch your breath. Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady. He is intoxicating.

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek. He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer. You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little.

“So,” he says. “If you win, we fuck. And if I win, we make love. Is that correct?”

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say. You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation.

It seemingly works. His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Yes, there—” He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder. He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll race.”

Your heart is already revving like an engine. You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly. You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise. It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head. You hold your breath.

“You have to pass my test first,” he says.

“Excuse me!” Your own incredulity resounds. You smack his chest but he does not move.

“It’s just two questions,” he says. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

He is tormenting you. You hate him. You hope he never stops.

“Fine,” you snap. His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation.

“Good,” he says, then stands back.

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness. At least you can catch your breath in the space between you.

Then he says, “Get on your knees.”

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race. There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle. Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road.

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response. You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you.

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth. You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his. His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy. Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows.

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips. Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath.

“Well?” he says.

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.”

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin. “That’s one out of two. How about this one?”

He drops to his knees. You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night. There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets.

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable. Your breath stutters before he even moves. He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch. He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste. Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take.

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second. He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more. Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets.

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers. He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you. You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye.

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.

The suggestion makes you throb. You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright. “Now we can race.”

It is a perfect draw.

You are both distracted. When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind.

Doors slam. You meet in the space between your vehicles.

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative.

He is shrugging out of his jacket. It his the ground. He does not break his stride, already going for his belt. Your knees nearly buckle again.

“Fine,” he replies. “Then get over here. I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.”

Fucking you is exactly what he does. It is not making love. He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra. Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine. You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you.

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood. He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him.

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline. It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you. You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own. He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line.

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss. It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off. He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure. He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.”

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says. “You sounded so good getting fucked. I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that.

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand. He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?”

#lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x you #lee know x you #lee minho x you #valentinesdaystories

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yxngbxkkie · 11 months

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street racing series masterlist

hello! so, i’ve seen the idea of min as a street racer on tik tok. and, recently, i had the idea to make mood boards of skz as street racers. which you can find that post here! i’ve now decided to write a mini series for this idea. i’m super excited about the ideas that i have, and i hope that you enjoy it as well <3

Secrets - Bang Chan

Lately, over the past month and a half, your best friend has been blowing you off. You know Chan isn’t normally like that, and being in love with him didn’t help the fact either. You tried asking his friends about it, but they wouldn’t tell you anything. The only thing they’d say is, “It’s not my secret to tell.” You decide to distance yourself from him, even though he’s already kind of doing that himself. After a month of not seeing or talking to Chan, he randomly shows up at your apartment one night. You try to get him to go home, telling him that you didn’t want to see him, but he wasn’t having any of it. He dragged you out of your apartment, reassuring you that he’ll explain why he kept blowing you off. And that’s how you end up in the passenger seat of Chan’s car, participating in a street race.

Rivals - Lee Know

Lee Minho, a rival of your boyfriend. The guy you’re dating warned you about him multiple times. From how he puts it, Minho is an asshole. And from what you’ve seen, you can agree. Unfortunately, your boyfriend has lost more races against him than won, and Minho’s not afraid to rub it in both of your faces when everything’s done for the night. The rivalry between your boyfriend and Minho becomes too toxic for you that you end up going to Minho to try and mend it. You slip into his vehicle before the race starts, not your best idea but it was the only idea you had at that moment in time, and it quickly turns into a bad idea when your boyfriend catches you in his car.

Change of Heart - Seo Changbin

You met Seo Changbin in a coffee shop. He’s loud, cocky, and sometimes he’s kind of a dick. You dread it every time he comes into the cozy place. Sometimes you wish you could quit your job there and work somewhere else, just to get away from him. After going out with a man you met through your job, you end up at an illegal street race. You quickly find yourself uncomfortable with this guy and when you ask him to bring you home, he ditches you. One thing you didn’t expect… Seo Changbin coming to your rescue.

Off Limits - Hwang Hyunjin

You’re the daughter of a big corporate boss. Your father despises the street races that go on almost every night near his company building. He’s warned you his whole life to stay away from those kinds of people. Sometimes street racers can be hard to spot. Who would’ve thought that the handsome man you met at an art exhibit would be one of the best street racers in the city?

Childhood Friends - Han Jisung

You moved away from Seoul when you were a teenager. You hated leaving. You didn’t want to leave. Especially after meeting Han Jisung. He and his family lived next door to yours since you were toddlers. After being away for ten years, you finally find yourself living in Seoul again. The first thing you attempt to do is get in contact with Jisung. The two of you kept in contact for a few years after you moved but as time went on, the messages slowly stopped coming. One night, you stumble upon a street race. You heard that they happen a lot but you’ve never seen them. And you never would’ve thought that your childhood friend would be a part of it.

My Favorite Boy - Lee Felix

You meet Lee Felix through your best friend. She’s dating one of his friends and one night she asked you to go for a drive with her. With how busy you’ve been with work, you accepted her offer. Your whole night did a 180 when the two of you show up at a street race that her boyfriend is participating in. You’ve only seen street races in movies. Before the race starts, you find yourself aimlessly walking around the parked cars. That’s when you meet a beautiful man with cheeks littered with freckles and a personality that shines as bright as the sun.

Anything For You - Kim Seungmin

You knew that Seungmin was a street racer. He kept it a secret from you for half of your relationship. You understood why he did it. He wanted to keep you safe and he didn’t want you to worry about him. Recently, you’ve been hearing about how dangerous street racing has become. A few people have been holding grudges against the people they lost to. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t worried about Seungmin, even though the two of you broke up months beforehand.

Racing Gone Wrong - Yang Jeongin

Your roommate has been sneaking out of the apartment almost every night. You, being a curious person, decide to follow him one night and found out his biggest secret. Street racing. Never in a million years, you would think that your roommate, who’s an absolute angel, would be a street racer. You planned to tell him that you knew but a part of you thought he’d get angry, so you kept it to yourself. It didn’t stop you from going every night he went, disguising yourself with a hoodie he’s never seen you wear before. You did well to keep yourself hidden until one night when Jeongin gets into a big accident.

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @luckieleaf @stayconnecteed @tiaxa @yoonrimin @sunny-future @daysofskz-ateez @spacegirlstuff @foxinnie8 @moon0fthenight

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sanakimohara · 5 months

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Throwing some story ideas around rn so I’ll remember to write them later:

Personal Trainer Changbin

Ballet Instructor Minho (based off of Swan Lake)

Priest Minho + Chan

Street Racer Jisung

Winter Prince Felix (Royal x Servant/Captive Trope)

Rich Heir Hyunjin (Enemies to Lovers Trope)

King/Emperor Chan (Betrothal Trope)

Stalker/Ghostface Killers Seungmin + Jeongin

Special Forces/COD 3racha (Mutual Pining Trope + Free Use)

SO MANY IDEAS UGHHHH it’s too many and I still have requests to fill. I need to jot these down though, see what you guys think about them, and then I’ll go from there…🖤

A poll will be up later but I’d appreciate feedback on this post as well. 🖤

oh….and here��s a little treat for you guys…

Isn’t he just so dreamy?… 🖤 credits to the creator..

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chanstopher · 7 months

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Content released during SKZ 樂-STAR Promotions

If any link is broken or anything is missing please let me know. Enjoy!

[things with no links it just means the video hasn’t been released yet]

LALALALA

UNVEIL TRACKS

MegaVerse | Stage Video | Megaverse MV | Making | Dance Practice

Skzflix Teaser | SKZFLIX | Making

Leave | Stage Video

Album & Behind

Fan Chants

LALALALA

Promotions

Radio Shows

Kiss the Radio [Minho, Seungmin]

Choi Hwa-jeong's Power Time [Changbin, Hyunjin, felix]

SBS Radio [Chris, Jisung, Jeongin]

Variety Shows

Return of Superman | Ep2 [Chris & Felix]

Idol Human Theater

Amazing Saturday | Fancam [Changbin & Felix]

Interviews

Buzzfeed

Teen Vogue

Glamour

Studio Choom

Teaser | Performance | Fancams | Behind

Music Shows

Music Bank 231110

Interview | Performance | Bonus V | fancams |

Music Core 231111

Interview | Performance | fancams |

Inkigayo 231112

Interview | Performance | fancams | Behind

Show Champion 231115 🏆

Did not perform

MCountdown 231116

Interview | Performance | fancams |

Music Bank 231117 🏆🏆

Interview | Performance | Encore | fancams |

Music Core 231118🏆🏆🏆

Performance | Encore | fancams |

Inkigayo 231119

Performance | fancams

Other Performances

BBMAS: Performance | Award | Interview

SKZ TALKERS

59 | 60

Other

Dream Day [ Chan, Minho, Han, Hyunjin, Seungmin]

2 KIDS ROOM

teaser |

LIVES

11/19

All 樂-Star Content youtube playlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More things can be found on their official SNS

Instagram | Twitter | Tiktok

#Stray Kids #樂-Star #drm.master #masterlists #as always pls be patient with me they always do so much <3

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bbyquokka · 7 months

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its me again BUT I CANT HELP IT the new challenge video of minsung... its a different thing BUT. jisung coming home with this outfit.. of course he is tired, he directly heads to living room to catch a breath, before even he can say something you sit on your knees in front of him, he gets what you want and smirks .. you slowly unbelt his pants,,,,,as u give him a head he calling u 'you're so pretty' 'my little slut' as he caress your hair 😖😖😖 you take slow as he guides you. okay enough.

so pretty !!

SMUT BELOW CUT – MINORS, AGELESS & DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | gender neutral reader, idol au, oral sex ( m rec ), some guidance during oral sex, dirty talk & thoughts, degrading name: slut, semi proof read. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 0.7k ~ ( 749 )

dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

he's so tired. he's spent all day at the studio filming for the lalalala practice video. the theme of the video was racer. he's spent all day dealing with stylists and make-up artists making sure he looks good before entering the dance studio and filming the video with the back-up dancers.

after he filmed the youtube content, it was then advised that him and minho filmed a challenge video for youtube shorts and instagram reels. by that point, he just wanted to go home and luckily for him, it only took one take to do before he was finally able to go home for the day.

he doesn't mind it, of course. it's fresh new content for stays. it's just comeback season is always tiring for him (and everyone else) the schedule forever being packed. interviews here, flying to japan there. stage after stage after stage performances – it's never ending.

due to how busy he has been, his needs have been neglected. you know this more than anyone considering how short tempered he is slowly becoming. you wish you could help him but you know he is also tired from working and most likely just wants to sleep.

but that's far from the case. jisung is tired but he is horny: blue balls horny! he misses you. he misses your touch, your scent, your taste. he misses the way you look at him, pleading for him and moaning for him. he wants you so bad, it hurts!

he walks into the apartment he shares with you, mumbling a small “hello” before flopping onto the couch. today has been extra tiring and extra hard on him. he didn't even bother getting changed from the racer clothes he was put in. everything he did and everywhere he went he imagined you being with him. he imagined fucking you from behind in front of the studio mirrors. imaging your moans echoing and bouncing off the walls. he's had to try hard not to get hard and it's been so painful for him.

you notice him shifting in his seat. he readjusts himself, giving his semi hard-on a squeeze. he groans, kicking his head back a little and lips parting. you watch him massage and squeeze himself, watch as his cock grows and gets hard in his pants.

“fuck.. i shouldn't be doing this. i need to shower and eat but it feels so good.” you hear him mumble to himself. you watch him unzip his pants, pulling them down to his ankles and squeezing and palming himself through his underwear. you see his cock grow hard and throb. something stirs inside of you and before you know it; you're down on your knees in front of a hazy and horny looking jisung.

“oh. hey doll, didn't see you th–” he swallows thickly as he watches you reach up and pull his underwear down. “... h-hey babe. you don't have to do that. im fin–fuck!”

his cock has sprung free from its restraints. you look up at him with doe eyes as you rub his shaft slowly. he bites his bottom lip gently before grabbing the base of his penis and tapping it against your lips.

“open.” you part your lips slowly as you maintain your gaze on him. you lean down and gently suck on his tip, giving it long and slow licks.

“that’s it. fuck that feels good, darling. you're so good for me, mhm.” you give him a simple hum as you stroke his shaft from the base. “think you can take a little more of me, darling?”

your eyes flutter close as you lower your head further down. the corner of your lips stretch a little and burn. saliva gathers in your mouth as you feel stuffed. you slowly bob your head up and down, body shivering as you listen to jisung pant and whimper.

“that's it. such a pretty little slut. gosh, you feel so good around my cock.” you continue to suck and stroke him, free hand reaching up and cupping his balls. his hands caress your hair slowly and gently, giving it the occasional tug.

“hollow out your cheeks darling. that’s it.. make sure your tongue is flat and breath darling.” you do as instructed, listening to jisung giving you hints and tips on how he likes it. he praises you, forever telling you how well behaved you're being and how good he feels.

“my little slut looks so pretty with my cock between their lips.”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 | @reboggingfun ; @fairylouist ; @poody1608 ; @maximumkillshot ; @bintific ; @fun-fanfics ; @septicrebel

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kaciidubs · 9 months

Text

Lucky Charm

❣ For my sweet love @sweetracha - thank you for indulging me in this AU, I hope you like it! ❣

❣ Summary: Racer! AU - Its the first race of the season, and what's a better way to start it off without a little visit from Jisung's lucky charm? ❣ ❣ Word Count: 1.1k ❣ Warnings: Racecar Driver! Jisung, Racer Crew! OT8, Jisung's a bit cocky but in a lovable way, established relationship, hinted smut, fluff, humor, kissing, Seungmin is a menace to Changbin, Jeongin is a menace to Minho, Jisung is a menace to Reader ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Han is referred to as Jisung, Han, and Mr. Flirt, sort of slice of life style but I love it ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“Seungmin, stop hiding my tools!”

“I’ll stop hiding them when you stop calling me a dog!”

You watched as Changbin wrangled the younger into a chokehold - putting no power behind it, of course - and continued spewing on about how he’ll continue being a dog if he keeps hiding his stuff.

“They’re still at it?”

Breaking you from the ever so entertaining view, you turned your head to see Chris walking over to you, black headset donned around his neck in preparation for the race.

“Mhm - you know, for the pit leader and star of the crew, they really can’t get past this fake sibling rivalry.”

“It keeps them entertained and out of my hair, as long as they don’t kill each other then so be it.”

Nodding in agreement, you snuck a peek at the pair once again; Seungmin now, miraculously, out of the hold and taunting Changbin over something entirely new.

It was race day, the first race of the season and the starting line for the journey to the silver cup, so it was understandable why they seemed to have more energy than before - honestly, you were surprised they weren’t chasing each other around by this point.

“Where’s the rest of the gang?” You mused, noting the lack of a few familiar faces amongst the pit crew that filled the assigned stadium garage.

Chris leaned against the table you were sitting on, crossing his arms over his t-shirt clad chest, “Well, Minho’s doing a pre recorded interview - he brought Jeongin along to ‘show him how it's done’, Hyunjin is out getting some pictures of the stadium, Felix is getting the final lineup of the race, and I’m sure you know where Jisung is.”

Ah, right - the man of the hour and the reason why you’re all gathered today - Han Jisung, the person taking up this season’s race in the SKZ name. This was far from his first race, or course, but it still held importance; this was his shot at a third consecutive win following his overly successful season last year, taking over for Minho as he took on the responsibility of training Jeongin with Chris, and you were here to hopefully witness his first win of the circuit.

Picking aimlessly at the fabric of your skirt, you regarded the eldest with a soft look, “You think he’s nervous?”

“Yeah.” He unfolded his arms, resting his hands on the edge of the table, “But you know how he is, nerves are only fuel to him - keeps telling me how he knows what he’s doing and that he’s bringing back another trophy for the garage.”

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head in amusement - cocky as ever.

The sound of the door squeaking open drew your attention, easily recognizing the faces coming through the door.

“You can ignore me all you want - that interviewer was so into you!” Jeongin beamed, following closely behind a nonplussed Minho.

“Chan, get this child away from me, now.”

“Seriously! How could you not see it?! She was a hundred perfect fucking you with her eyes-”

“Chan!”

“Shit- okay! Innie, you keep testing him and he might actually kill you this time.” Chris launched himself from his position on the table, leaving you to watch as he dragged the youngest driver away from the veteran - but not without attracting the attention of the two lead pit crew members eager for the tea.

In the midst of the action, the door opened once again - Jisung walked through wearing his racing jumpsuit decorated in various sponsorship patches he’d earned throughout the years. He went to jump into the ruckus until he spotted you on the table, laughing at whatever threat Minho famously came up with this time, his heart fluttering and feet leading him straight to your side.

“You must really love me if you’re willing to deal with these guys,” he hummed nonchalantly, not missing the way you jumped at his sudden presence, head whipping toward him in surprise.

Rolling your eyes, a soft smile quickly replaced your shock, “You must really love me if you’re willing to let me deal with these guys.” You watched as he saddled himself in front of you, caging you in against the table with a sideways smirk.

“Of course I love you,” pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, a bright smile blossomed on his lips, “you should’ve told me you were here already, I would’ve gotten ready faster!”

“Today’s an important day, you really think I’m gonna rush you just to see me?” Your fingers danced their way up the fabric of his jumpsuit, tracing along the various seams and straps before finding home on his shoulders.

“I’m always in a rush to see you, why do you think I always finish in first?”

You scoffed out a laugh, eyes glittering with mirth, “Okay, Mr. Flirt, let’s get our heads in the game here.”

“Han! We’ve gotta start getting ready soon!”

A wave of anxious excitement washed over you at Chris’ time call, and you could see the spark of determination flash behind Jisung’s eyes - this was it.

“One last kiss from my lucky charm?” Jisung hummed softly, his hands sliding to cradle the outside of your thighs, fingers fiddling with your skirt.

Nodding curtly, you took his face in your hands, gently turning his head to the right, “Be smart-” you murmured before kissing his cheek and turning his head to the left, “be safe-” planting another kiss, you turned him one final time to face you, “be fast-” pecking his lips, you leveled him with a soft stare, “and come back to me.”

“Always.” He promised, as always, finishing the ritual with a solid kiss to your lips in return, pulling back with a cocky grin, “I’ll make sure to come back for my second checkered flag, too.”

Your eyebrows furrowed for a second before your gaze dropped to where he was currently squeezing your thighs and- of course, in addition to wearing a custom shirt with his racing number and name, you’d opted for a black and white checker patterned skirt to tie the look together.

A new rush of heat ran through you as you mushed his face with your hands, embarrassed giggles escaping you all the while, “Han Jisung get away from me!”

You could feel him kiss the palm of your hand with a triumphant laugh, taking your wrist to move your hand, “You know you love me!”

“Yeah, I love you, now go!”

Successfully shooing him away, you watched as he went to huddle with the rest of his team - now noticing the arrival of Felix amongst the group, and Hyunjin with his camera in hand, snapping pictures of the first huddle of the season.

You knew he’d give it his all, he always did, but a little intentionally unintentional enticement never hurt anyone - you were his lucky charm after all, and if that helped him have another reason to bring back the gold then who were you to stop it?

#skz fic #stray kids fic #Han Jisung x reader #Jisung x reader #han jisung fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #Racer! AU #Racer! AU SKZ #Racer! Jisung #Racer! Han

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lix-ables · 10 months

Note

lino driving im having THOUGHTS👀

OH LOSING IT ??? no bc, ever since i started dancing with the devil ( the racer minho wip ) my brain has been actively thinking about this.

minho would legit be the type to take you out for drives. but he isn't the one-hand-on-the-steering-wheel-one-hand-on-your-thigh kinda guy ( maybe he is, who KNOWS ) but he is definitely someone who'd talk dirty to you while focusing on the road. he'd ask you to touch yourself, tease yourself — he'd get off on your sounds. "that's it's kitten, there you go. i bet you look so pretty right now."

minho driving has me thinking about him coming back home to you, so on his way back you call him, feeling needy, and he guides you??? telling you what to do??? praising AND humiliating you AT THE SAME TIME??? need. NEED. @telesvng i need him so so bad UGH.

#💌 — mail #anonymousse #( hard thots — 🍒 . )#stray kids smut #lee know smut #stray kids minho smut #lee know x reader #( i need him so fucking bad omg )

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djeniryuu · 6 months

Text

Lee Minho Fic Recs (2020)

Last Updated: ---

P.S.: Please let me know if any of the links aren’t working

a - angst, f - fluff, s - smut, ✔- completed

♡ - personal favourite

* - newly added

Stories by Year:

2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024

Oneshots:

⇢ A Promise Well Broken (6.2k) - (a, f) » best friends to lovers

⇢ All I Want For Christmas (5.4k) - (f) » enemies to lovers

⇢ And They Were Roommates (11k) - (f, s) » best friends to lovers

⇢ Apologies in Advance (6.4k) - (f) » enemies to lovers, secret agent!au

⇢ Coffee, Tea or Me? (1.8k) - (f) » barista!minho

⇢ Countless Skies Upon Me (16.5k) - (f) » fantasy, action, swordsman!minho

⇢ Danse Macabre (26.6k) - (a, f) ♡ » arabian mythology, action, royal!au, fantasy!au

⇢ Dripping (2.6k) - (s) » devil!au

⇢ Equilibrium (6.3k) - (f) » racer!minho

⇢ Expectorate (1.7k) - (s) » established relationship, mafia!au

⇢ Kinktober Day 4: Spit Kink (1.3k) - (s)

⇢ Liar, Truther (7.2k) - (f) » secret admirer

⇢ Too Early, but Not Enough (11.6k) - (a, f) » grim reaper!au, soulmate!au?

⇢ Untitled (9.4k) - (a, f, s) ♡ » friends with benefits, friends to lovers

⇢ Winner (6.6k) - (f) » brother’s best friend, racer!minho

Series:

⇢ The Songless Bird (7.9k) - (f) ✔ » mafia!au, royal!au

Main Story, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (Final)

⇢ What if We + Give It a Chance (13.7k) – (f) ✔ » friends to lovers

Part 1, Part 2 (Final)

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sopeiism · 1 year

Text

“SPEED OF THE MOMENT.” : SONG MINGI !

⠀IN WHICH .. mingi notices who he thought was a close friend, flirting with his girl; the jealous man feels obligated to remind the woman exactly why she is known as “his girl” within the lot.

⠀GENRE .. racer!mingi xx dominant!reader. established relationship. smut. drabble (1.9k).

⠀CONTENTS .. mdni. nsfw. no plot/plotless. unprotected sex. manhandling. jealous sex. overstimulation. riding. malebottom. femdom.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“OH, C’MON, Min. No es gran cosaaa. He was harmless, nothing was gonna happen.” ( It’s not a big deal ) The fairly tall woman bleated childishly, pouting whilst her boyfriend tugged her along the graveled pavement.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t find his demeanors at least a tiny bit attractive. The way he huffed and clenched his jaw tightly, the veins in his forehead protruding out prominently. How his grip on her was almost lethal, [Y/N] tripping over her own feet every few steps.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The entire interaction had a giddy feeling churning inside the woman’s stomach. She absolutely loved it when he got jealous, which was quite often. She genuinely had no idea Yunho was flirting with her, the woman unbeknownst to the man’s true feelings.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She was stubborn and headstrong; yet, could be painfully oblivious at times.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A slight yelp tumbled from her lips when she felt Mingi shove her into the passenger seat of the car, the woman’s eyes widening at the realization of her surroundings. She vaguely flinched when he slammed the door behind her, rolling her eyes at his dramatics.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Mingi strutted his way over to the opposite side of the car and slid into the driver seat, equally slamming his door behind himself. Once more rolling her eyes, [Y/N] watched whilst the man trudged his foot onto the brake and inserted his keys into the ignition; the car’s engine roaring boisterously just after.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Before he could further his childish actions of retaliation, the woman firmly placed her hand upon Minho’s that was tightly gripping the gear stick. She then gently took hold of his chin and made him face her, his eyes avoiding all and any sort of contact.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Huffing and rolling her eyes yet again, [Y/N] sat up in her seat prior to leaning over the middle console. She brought her own face only meters from Mingi’s, knowing that their close proximity had his heart racing faster than it was previously.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀[Y/N] knew the man like the back of her palm, he was easier to read than a novel. An open book, if you will.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Papito, look at me.. Ay, coño, look.. at.. me, por favor” the woman murmured, her tone naturally raspy, with her tongue rolling anytime she spoke her native language.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀It took Mingi a moment before he complied with his girlfriend, narrowing his irritation-filled eyes at [Y/N] who gave him a conceited expression in return. Smacking his lips, the man shifted in his seat to keep his cool contained.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“I promise you nothing happened, okay? I’m yours. All yours.” [Y/N] had to remind Mingi, making sure to hold as much eye contact as she could before her head exploded.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Didn’t seem like it..” Mingi argued, his voice low whilst he turned his head to the side.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀He reminisced in the sounds of the engine rumbling below his feet while [Y/N] stared at him with her mouth hung open ajar. She was in utter disbelief at the man’s words.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Y’know if I really wanted to I could’ve just left with Yunho the first hundred times he asked me earli-” just before she could finish her tangent, Mingi’s anger had grown thin; abruptly grabbing her wrist of the had that was placed on his chin, pulling the woman closer and latching his opposite hand onto the side of her neck.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His lips did likewise, pressing firmly onto the stun-ridden [Y/N]’s who was far too lost in thought to notice the fact her once jealous boyfriend had suddenly kissed her. The second she took note of his actions, a sly grin curved on her face and she graciously kissed her lover back.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She slipped her hand from atop his that rested on the gear stick, gliding her fingers through the back of his silky hair and entwining them within it. Her other hand had still been in Mingi’s stern grasp, [Y/N] entirely uninterested in freeing it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Their lips intimately moved in sync with one another, Mingi’s hostile environment becoming smaller the more he made out with the woman of his dreams. He knew good and well he couldn’t stay mad at her forever, it was physically impossible for him when all he ever craved 24/7 was her simple touch.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The deeper the kiss became, the closer [Y/N] was to crawling onto his lap. When she alas did so, she could feel the bulging erection of Mingi’s dick pressing into her thigh. The pressure had [Y/N] chuckling to herself, a flushed out expression coating Mingi’s in response.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Well, isn’t someone excited” the woman taunted, pulling from the kiss and peering down at Mingi with her bottom lip pulled between her silver grin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The needy man simply just allowed his hands to ravage her lower body, from gripping her ass to clawing at her waist. He needed her, and now. He didn’t care if there was a possibility that people could see them.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀If anything he wanted them to. More importantly, he wanted Yunho to. He wanted him to see [Y/N] ride him diligently; seeing just how much of his girl the woman was.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Wasting no time in ridding of his girlfriends clothes, Mingi aided her in pulling her jeans down to her ankle, hooking the front of her underwear with his index finger and snapping the fabric in two. Giggling at how needy he was being, [Y/N] allowed her desperate man to take some control before she palmed his dick and caused him to halt his actions entirely.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“It’s my turn, gran chico.” ( big boy ) the woman murmured into Mingi’s ear, her hands resting along his shoulders whilst she aligned herself above his tip.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She was well aware that anyone could walk towards his car and see them, but if Mingi didn’t care then neither did she.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀With just the tip of his length grazing between her slick folds, Mingi was letting harsh breaths exert his lips with every passing second. He was going to go insane if he couldn’t feel her insides wrap tightly around his dick. He had to have her.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Every inch, every millisecond, every moment that passed had him gripping her hips tighter and tighter. Yet, he knew to be patient or it would be one hell of a tease from [Y/N]. The most he could do was bite his tongue and watch as how she smoothly slid down his thick, veiny length.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Every movement the woman made, whines of pure ecstasy dripped off Mingi’s tongue like a panting dog. He could feel himself stretching her out while amidst grinding against her walls. The more she adjusted to it, the easier it was for [Y/N] to alas sit herself on him completely.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Their moans began to intertwine once she did so, [Y/N] taking a moment to herself before she started grinding her hips against Mingi’s. Every time she raised herself off him, his veins dragged along her clenched walls, her juices trickling down the sides of his dick.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “F-Fuck- baby. Please move f-faster- please!” Mingi finally snapped, his nails delving into the woman’s skin from his patience growing ungodly thin.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Abiding by her man’s wish, [Y/N] gladly picked up her pace, bouncing herself on his length with her hands resting on either side of his neck.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She continued to rock her hips against his own, her hands resting on either side of his neck with her thumbs wiping away the tears that rolled down his precious face.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His cheeks were heated, [Y/N] could feel it against her palms aside from the fact that it was visible on his skin. Anytime he dared to open his eyes she could see the coax of tears that covered them, a smirk dragging against her plump lips from the view.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The way his throbbing dick felt dragging against her walls had the woman craving for more of Mingi, the thought causing her to tug her bottom lip between her teeth all the while she slowly sped up the pace of her hip movement.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She towered over Mingi completely, the fairly large man resting his chin against [Y/N]’s chest whilst he stared up at her through his half-lidded eyes, her hands cupping his cheeks before she leaned down to place her lips onto his.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The way she slowly moved her lips against his, gradually grinding her hips as well had Mingi a whimpering mess beneath her, the man practically begging her to pick up the pace.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The sight of her beloved boyfriend crying beneath her sent a sort of electric feeling all throughout her body, as if she were enlightened by the fact that she were the reason he was a sobbing mess of pure bliss.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Qué pasa, cariño?” ( what’s wrong, darling? ) she murmured just after pulling away from her needy boyfriend, teasing the man by dropping herself onto the base of his length right as she spoke, watching his eyes roll back and a moan linger from his mouth.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀All the while she questioned Takemichi, she dragged her calloused fingers down his cheek, all the way to his jawline prior to trailing her index finger along it. [Y/N]’s voice was like music to Mingi’s ears, the man melting beneath her from the accent that weaved into her words, and the way her raspy voice cooed in his ear.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The man didn’t care if he was jealous or not, he’d let [Y/N] ride him until morning if he could. Which, he has done before.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His mind was entirely clouded with lust and desire, wanting [Y/N] and only [Y/N] at the moment. He couldn’t think of anything else aside from how her walls felt clenching around his length. The way they dragged against his sides, his tip continuously prodding at her cervix. Her movements alone had the both of them in a state of genuine pleasure, [Y/N] being able to handle it a bit better than her disaster of a boyfriend who couldn’t help but praise everything she did.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Her movements were swift, curling her hips against Mingi’s dick with ease as the man could feel himself nearing his orgasm.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Let me cum, please baby” the man cried against [Y/N]’s lips, the woman instantly pulling away from his face while one of her hands went to his throat, lightly gripping it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“As you wish, mi amor” ( my love ) she cooed darkly, a vague smirk curling at her lips while she made him look up at her, all the while she sped up her pace.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She enjoyed the view of her boyfriend completely crumbling beneath her, his mouth hanging open due to the feeling of her ass bouncing all over his dick, wet sounds soon filling the silence in the car since she picked up the pace heavily.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Seeing Mingi’s mouth open allowed the woman to stick her index and middle fingers into it, the man choking against them when he felt her press the pad of them onto his tongue. Tears slowly slid down his cheeks from the endurance, nothing but pure pleasure coursing through his body as his final orgasm slowly consumed him entirely.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀As his liquids shot into [Y/N] alas, she watched as his eyes rolled back, groans and whimpers choking around her fingers from the man as she continued to bounce on him throughout his climax, delighted by how he squirmed beneath her.

#♱ SOTM. song mingi #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez mingi #song mingi #mingi song #mingi x y/n #mingi scenarios #mingi x reader #mingi imagines #mingi fanfic #mingi drabble #kpop smut #kpop

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lixiesfreckless · 6 months

Text

The Punch It Cinematic Universe(PICU)

drive with me, baby.

a street racing au filled with burnt rubber, high speeds, and equally high tension.

lee minho x reader.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Punch It | 5.1k

There’s an unexpected opening for the leader position of Changbin’s street racing gang club. Naturally, Minho stepped up, ready to fill in the role. He didn’t expect anyone to challenge him, though.

Floor It | 2.8k

You and Minho have been driving circles around each other for months now, but you can't seem to figure out what's holding him back from being the most skilled street racer in the city. Tonight, you decide to take matters into your own hands. Or wheels.

Burn It | 3.6k

The Golden Tire Cup semifinals is today, and Minho has the opportunity to get the Wolfgang Street Racing club to the finals for the first time in four years. Hopefully with you by his side, he'll be able to make it into the top two.

back to bbokari+

#picu #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #lee minho fic #lee minho #lee know #lee know fic #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #Spotify

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mostlycompetentwriter · 11 months

Text

Star Lost

F/M Pairing: Fem! Reader x Changbin (SKZ)

Genre: Science Fiction; Star Wars AU

Word Count: 13K

Warnings: Explicit Smut, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Alcohol Consumption, and Language; Changbin as a Brooding Mandalorian

Summary: They found you, a speck among millions of stars, and they gave you a home in their ranks. But how will your ragtag family of bounty hunters fare against a former storm trooper who offers you a compelling reward in exchange for your services?

A/N: if you see any mistakes, no you don’t...

Tag List: @luminouskalopsia @straykissss @charreddonuts @pandinha-puff @mrs-grim-reaper @elkel @lamerchesan @idek-at-this-point-lol @poutypoutybin @lavenderbang @adaamazing

“Do you have the target in sight?”

The question, heavily modulated, hummed through the dusty speakers along with a fresh wave of static.

“I see him,” you replied, tapping your fingers against the screen in the hopes of deterring those annoying purple and black bars from moving like electrified waves across your line of vision.

If you did your job well, then it would be easy for the rest of your group to catch your next bounty. But that meant keeping a close watch on his movements, which was rather hard to do with outdated equipment that had seen better days. Still, your last-ditch efforts to clear the screen seemed to work, and you could see the target speaking to one of the competitors who was adjusting his helmet next to his speed cruiser.

“Chan?” you called into your headset. “Are you set at the starting line?”

“I am,” your leader returned, and your eyes were immediately drawn to a flash of blonde hair walking across the sand, trailed by a familiar Twi’lek and Togruta hot on his heels.

“Get ready,” you said, watching the three imposing figures attract a fair amount of attention from the surrounding competition. Not that you blamed them. Elegant, tall, and graceful, Hyunjin’s stunning countenance had once been attached to an incredible price tag when he had been imprisoned under the infamous Jabba the Hutt on the desert planet Tatooine.

His species, the Twi’lek, were coveted because of their colorful features, beautiful head tails, and gorgeous facial pigments. Yet, beneath Hyunjin’s speckled green skin was a powerful warrior who had spent years mastering the martial arts in order to secure his freedom.

Next to him walked Minho, a Togruta who fled his home planet Ryloth to seek a better life. Unlike Hyunjin’s two prehensile head-tails that grew from the crown of his skull, Minho had three of them, spreading over his shoulders and another emerging from the rear base of his skull. His bright orange skin almost made him blend against the backdrop of the sand, but his white and blue-tinted head-tails disrupted the camouflage and cast a unique halo around the crown of his head.

“We’re starting,” Chan’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you took a deep breath as he mounted his cruiser, switching on the ignition and looking nothing short of fearless with his blonde hair swept back by a headband and his blue eyes sharp and calculating.

Minho and Hyunjin exchanged a few words with Chan before they walked over to stand at the side of the arena, glaring at anyone who ventured too close. “If looks could kill,” you quipped, earning yourself a tight-lipped smile from Hyunjin.

“Racers, take your marks!” the drone flying overhead announced, and the arena was filled with the reverberating sound of various engines being revved as riders prepared to race for the grand prize: a mountain of gold that you had seen with your own eyes, disbelief rendering you speechless. But it wasn’t the money that you and your partners were after...your crew sought something far more valuable, and it meant that weeks of careful planning were riding on this one moment.

This is the part where you held your breath, muscles tensed as you watched the traffic light change from red to yellow and then, finally, green. Cuing the start of the race, and a huge, dusting of sand reared up in the background, spreading across the arena as the cruisers took off, speeding into the distance where they would attempt to conquer the course as quick as possible without wrecking or, worst case scenario, dying.

You knew during the planning stage that Chan’s part in this was nothing short of dangerous, but that didn’t mean you accepted it without stressing over every possible piece of the puzzle that could go wrong. Even as you watched Chan’s heat signature on the screen, tracking him across the vast expanse of sand and open dunes that populated the small dessert planet you had landed on for this mission, your mind was whirring. All you could do was keep an eye on things as the real trouble happened at the end, especially if Chan managed to win the race.

In actuality, a first-place win wasn’t necessary; the most he really had to do was finish in the top 3, and Chan was notorious for being an excellent racer. It had been a no-brainer to choose him for this part, even if the risks meant that something could easily happen to deter your entire mission, leaving you back at square one.

But it was your best plan, and that meant waiting. Long, agonizing minutes of stationary monitoring. Chewing on the ends of your fingernails as you watched Chan pass the second-place cruiser, building a lead that still didn’t offer you reprieve. What if an Ackley spotted him from a distance and decided to make him its next meal? What if his cruiser malfunctioned...although, that was highly unlikely considering the man who built it from scratch.

And just the thought of him made you shiver unexpectedly despite the heat penetrating your ship. “Focus,” you whispered as thoughts of him could certainly derail your focus if you weren’t careful.

“They’re coming in for the finish!”

Your eyes were burning from forcing yourself not to blink, laser-focused on the screen in front of you as the racers rounded the final stretch, and you could feel the tension ready to snap at a moments notice.

Riding at the front of the pack was Chan, flanked on either side by second and third place. It was tight. Too tight.

And you winced at the moment of impact, when all three cruisers collided over the finish line.

Every ounce of oxygen left your lungs, body seizing in a catatonic state when Chan lurched forward off his cruiser, flying through the air to land with an audible thud against the unforgiving track. Nothing but an unmoving heap amidst wreckage of metal parts and loose pieces.

“No!” you whispered, fingers trembling against your headset as Hyunjin and Minho ran across the arena, falling next to Chan with clear urgency in their movements.

Your heart thundered in your chest at the sight, chills running down your spine. What would your crew accomplish without your leader? Could any of you live with the guilt and regret if he didn’t make it back on the ship?

Yet, just as those intrusive thoughts entered your head, you noticed one of Chan’s hands gripping tight to Minho’s forearm. It was the first sign of life, and you let out an incomprehensible noise when Hyunjin and Minho managed to help muscle Chan into a sitting position, cleaning the dust and debris from his racing suit.

“He’s okay.” You breathed a sigh of relief as Chan stood from the wreckage, brushing aside Hyunjin and Minho.

He had done it.

Chan had won the race.

Not without a few bumps and bruises, and maybe something worse as you noticed his legs wobbling beneath him. He started for the bleachers lining the sides of the track, gritting his teeth against obvious pain, when the crackling of reverb from the overhead speakers disrupted the chaotic aftermath.

“To the victor goes the spoils,” a booming voice rang from across the track, attracting every pair of eyes in the arena to the tall, lanky figure emerging from the shaded tunnel. Even from afar you could recognize him as your target, dressed in wealth and cloaked in a gold cape that swept the ground and churned up a faint cloud of dust.

“He’s coming,” you spoke in the headset to warn Hyunjin and Minho, who held just that extra bit tighter to Chan, helping him stand prouder in spite of his obvious pain.

“Well, we certainly weren’t expecting this,” your target spoke, hands moving in the air. “An outsider from another planet. Winning against all odds.”

“Impressed?” Minho dared to venture, ignoring Hyunjin’s sharp eye.

“Indeed,” your target agreed. “But where are my manners? My name is Raphael. I’m the owner of this track.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Chan forced out between clenched teeth. “I’m Chan and these are my crew members, Hyunjin and Minho.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Raphael smiled, something grand and well-practiced. “Are there more of you?”

“A few of us,” Chan replied vaguely in turn.

Raphael nodded, glancing between your three crew mates with obvious interest. “You’ll join me, of course?” he asked with a smile. “We must celebrate our new champion. Bring all of your friends!”

Bingo. It was the opening your team had been hoping for, and Chan ducked his head in agreement, following behind Raphael as he turned around to lead the way. “Meet Jeongin outside the stadium,” Chan murmured into the mic, speaking directly to you. “Tell the guards that you’re with us.”

You perked up in interest, surprised that Chan wanted you and Jeongin to join him. Usually, you and your team’s medic remained behind, tucked away on the ship while the others did the heavy lifting.

Unless Chan was desperate for trusted medical assistance. Or, he was keeping information from you. Either way, something bad was churning in the settling dust, the remnants of the race disappearing in the wind.

You tossed aside your headset, moving through the ship to find Jeongin in his small laboratory. He was hunched over his desk, eyes squinting from behind eyeglasses that had long ago went out of a current prescription. “Jeongin,” you said, and he offered a muted hum of acknowledgment. “Chan wants us to meet him.”

Jeongin frowned at that, but agreed nonetheless, tossing on his lab coat as you led the way off the ship, ensuring that the cloaking shield was on before you started in the direction of the dusky, dilapidated buildings that populated the infamous desert city. “What does he want with us?” Jeongin huffed, struggling to keep pace with your longer strides.

If you didn’t know any better, you might think Jeongin was allergic to fresh air, preferring the indoors and the comforts of his lab equipment and potions. “I don’t know,” you replied, and the two of you fell into terse silence as you followed the tracking beacon that Chan had attached to his suit before leaving the ship, guiding your way through the streets lined with merchants and patrons alike, hustling and moving, as you fought your way through the crowds.

Up ahead in the distance, you identified a taller building, standing out from the rest. Far more elegant, a picture of wealth, made entirely of the nicest stone masonry and supported on four tall columns. The roof was slanted in the shape of a cylinder, and the adjoining towers seemed to vanish into the clouds above.

“They’re inside?” Jeongin asked.

You nodded, braving the steps leading to the large, mahogany-colored doors where two Gamorreans stood guard, holding double-axes between their clawed hands. “Halt!” one of them called, taking a step forward.

“We’re with Bang Chan,” you said, bowing his head. “He asked us to meet him here.”

The Gamorrean grunted, turning to his friend who merely stood aside, opening the doors to reveal a long, narrow hallway, marble floors shimmering with the reflection of the flames held on wall scones. “Thanks,” you muttered, pulling Jeongin behind you with a hand on his shoulder.

Once inside, you weren’t surprised to see a tall, formally dressed man immediately come to greet you, bowing low at the waist and requesting that you follow him to the main room. “Of course,” you agreed, and there a skip in the butler’s step that had you rolling your eyes, taking in the gruesome war scenes hanging from the walls in graphic detail.

As if you needed confirmation of Raphael’s preoccupation with violence. “Right this way,” the butler directed you down another corridor, walking you to the end to open another set of doors, and your stomach settled a little at the sight of Chan, Minho, and Hyunjin.

“Ah!” Raphael clapped his hands together in delight. “You weren’t lying.”

You frowned at that, but chose not to comment, and you and Jeongin joined Chan, taking two flutes of champagne from one of the waiters making rounds through the room. “This is Y/N,” Chan said. “And Jeongin.”

“Excellent,” Raphael said. “And the girl...”

“Untouched,” Chan agreed, which you knew was a blatant lie, so why was Chan saying such things?

“Then you can stand with me,” Raphael said, and you forced yourself to move, casting Chan a confused look which was merely met with a nod.

You forced down your disgust, letting Raphael tuck your arm into his as he continued chatting away about the room’s décor. What was Chan’s goal here? To make Raphael think you were a virgin? What good would that do?

Maybe something had happened to force a change of plans. But you didn’t like it one bit, being in the dark and holding your tongue as Raphael continued to drink glass after glass of champagne. Perhaps Chan’s plan was to get him drunk enough to pass out.

“Now, what about your other guest-”

The doors opened again to interrupt Raphael, and you could feel the room’s temperature drop. Your stomach was flipping in somersaults, twisting and churning, as your Mandalorian walked closer, flanked by Han and Seungmin, the final members of your ragtag crew of hunters. “What do we have here?” Raphael laughed, seemingly delighted. “Can it really be a Mandalorian?”

“Does it surprise you?” Chan asked, tone cool and collected.

“In beskar?” Raphael hummed. “I can’t say I’m not intrigued.”

You shivered at the blatant interest in Raphael’s gaze. “Does it have a name?”

“He does,” Changbin finally spoke, voice modulated through his helmet. “But not for your ears.”

“Ah, yes, the code,” Raphael smirked, tone dripping with disrespect. You bristled at the insult, knowing firsthand just how important names were considered in Mandalorian culture. Their secrecy equated to their survival. Even within your team, Changbin’s name remained a mystery.

Well, except to you, of course, since he had willingly whispered it to you one night, breath hot against the skin of your thighs from where he had laid between them.

You blushed at the memory, shaking your head clear of any thoughts of your Mandalorian and the lust his presence spiked in your blood.

“This day just keeps getting better,” Raphael said, jostling you a bit with his over-eager motions.

It was then that you could feel Changbin’s gaze on you, even through his reflective visor. Did he know about this change in plan? Or, was he just as confused?

“How much then?” Raphael asked and Chan cocked one brow.

“How much?”

“For your Mandalorian!” Raphael said. “He’d make a fine warrior!”

“Not for sale,” came Changbin’s dead-panned response.

“Well, what about the lady?” you grimaced at his breath on your face, seeing Han clasp a tight hand on Changbin’s shoulder before he could react.

“100,” Chan replied, and you forced down your urge to flinch. “But it must be done on my ship. I don’t allow her out of my sight.”

“So, you’ll be watching?” Raphael quipped.

You rolled your eyes, stopping on Chan’s form. Was this really his plan? To pretend to sell you out to get Raphael on the ship?

“How can I trust you?” Raphael asked, and you noticed one of his guards entering the room.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Chan asked, and that’s when all civility ended, watching the guard lift his blaster from the corner of his eye.

He was down before you could blink, Minho aiming his blaster just right, and that’s when you knew to hide, breaking Raphael’s hold to dive under one of the refreshment tables. Jeongin fleeing next to you.

Maybe Chan had anticipated this as a last resort. If you didn’t work, coming on to Raphael, then there would be a fight. Then, they would need Jeongin if anyone was injured.

Your hands closed over your ears to drown out the sounds of blasters and screams, whispering a prayer under your breath that none of your crew would feel the stinging edge of a blaster’s rays. You hated this. The violence inflicted against the people you cherished.

But in the blink of an eye, it was over, and silence reigned. Then, you felt a familiar gloved hand wrap around your arm, and you forced your eyes open, relief washing over you at the sight of Changbin.

“We’re fine,” he said, the only two words you needed to hear for your shoulders to drop and your heart to return to an even pace.

You let Changbin help you out from under the table, swallowing hard at the carnage around you. Thankfully, you were quick to tally the ones that mattered: Chan, with a smear of blood under his eye, Minho, Hyunjin, looking put-off as always, Seungmin, and Han.

“Let me see,” you heard Jeongin speak, eyes following him as he moved in closer to examine Chan’s wound.

You felt no remorse studying Raphael’s crumpled body on the floor, leaving nothing but a sea of dead bodies surrounding you. But a tiny shiver did fall down your spine when you felt Changbin’s hand caress your own from behind - a barely-there brushing of appendages. Yet, you had never felt so lightheaded. It was his silent way of comforting you.

“Sorry,” Chan grumbled into the silence, holstering his blaster with a sigh. “He wasn’t coming in hot.” You grimaced as Jeongin applied a salve to Chan’s eye, spreading some of the blood.

“No,” Minho agreed in that assessing way he had about him, finishing a sweep of the room with calculating eyes. “Not that it matters.”

“Let’s get out of here before the rest of his guards come,” Changbin said, and you jumped a little at the sound of his voice, so close behind you, that it almost felt like a gentle hug.

The others murmured their assent, and Chan was the first to start for the big, oval-shaped window at the back of the room, using a chair to smash through the glass. It rained down on the floor, joining the bodies and blood, reflecting colorful light at different angles. “We’ll head back to Tatooine, hand over the rest of the bounties.”

There were no objections, and you let Changbin coddle you, even if you often insisted on trying to maintain a strong image in public. “You did good, kitten,” he mumbled to you. “Even if I didn’t like that slimy bastard’s hands all over you.”

You preened at the his obvious jealousy, holding your tongue to prevent yourself from saying anything that might tease him too much. Instead, you focused on following the others, keeping to the shadows of the clay-lined buildings until your ship came into focus in the foreground, growing larger and larger as you approached.

“Everyone on board,” Chan said, brushing aside Jeongin’s worried hands. “It’s fine.”

“It could get infected!”

“Just check on the others,” Chan insisted, nodding at Minho as the two of them walked onboard and immediately started up the ladder to the cockpit above, flipping switches and turning dials to bring the ship to life.

You watched Jeongin deflate, but he did move about the room, making sure everyone else was fine. “Y/N?”

“I’m okay,” you assured him, turning your head to the side to track Changbin’s movements with your gaze as he disappeared below deck. It was obvious to you where he was going, as you remembered that Han, Seungmin, and Changbin had been tasked with bringing back the remains of the cruiser before joining everyone else in Raphael’s hideout.

“You might have to finish with Chan when he falls asleep,” you whispered, pleased at Jeongin’s smile.

Satisfied that the others were safe, and Jeongin in better spirits, you took a familiar path to your room, deciding to wash up before searching for Changbin later, deciding he needed an appropriate reward for always looking out for you.

It had only been a few hours since you made the jump to hyper speed, and you observed the flashing stars from your window for a while before deciding to find Changbin. Your first instinct was to check the lower deck, as you knew Changbin’s mind was a machine that often worked itself up in battle only to take far too long to return to normal again.

Of course, you weren’t the slightest bit surprised, when all was said and done, to find him tending to the remnants of Chan’s cruiser on the floor beneath the main deck. In the room where you kept weapons and other machines. In fact, you found yourself smiling at his predictability despite his claims otherwise.

“What are you doing?” you asked to break the silence, coming into the room before closing the door behind you.

Immediately, a familiar black visor was searing your gaze. “The better question is...why are you awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you lied, tip-toeing closer to where he stood, still clad in his beskar armor, arms folded over his chest.

“Really?” the modulated voice purred, and you were delighted by the sound. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You shivered at the prospect. “Maybe...”

He grunted, dropping his helmet back down to look at the sad remains of the cruiser. “Chan promised he would be careful.”

You snorted at the comment. “When is he ever?”

He didn’t respond right away, walking along the melted edges of the cruiser as if looking for potential. Even though you only saw a pile of junk, you knew that he was a master when it came to engineering.

An intellect who also happened to be a highly skilled warrior, trained in battle under the guidance of an ancient civilization. But more than that, he was your Mandalorian, and you found him irresistible.

From under the fluorescent lights of the workshop, you admired his powerful presence. Even clad in beskar, from his shiny gray helmet to his black chest plate, Changbin was a sight to behold. You shivered when your eyes landed on his fingers flexed inside his gloves, knowing firsthand just how they felt curled inside of you.

For a moment, silence persisted between you both, and you thought that you might just watch Changbin work on the cruiser. But then he started for the big, worn leather chair tucked away at the workbench in the furthest corner of the room, spreading his legs apart. “Come here,” he husked, crooking a finger in your direction.

You swallowed hard, feeling yourself grow wet at the mere sound of his commanding tone. You were helpless to obey, forcing your legs to work as you managed the short walk to stand in between Changbin’s legs wrapped loose in leather pants. His head fell to the side, looking at you from that annoying visor that kept his gaze from locking on your own. You could only hope that he didn’t notice the way you were trembling like a delicate leaf in a windstorm.

“Kitten,” Changbin said, and you nearly gasped at the seductive sound of his nickname for you. “Turn off the lights.”

You nodded so hard you thought you might get whiplash, nearly tripping over yourself in your haste to flip the light switch, bathing the workshop in a dark blanket of black.

A deep exhale filtered through your lips, heart thundering against your chest, as you used your hands to help guide your way back over to Changbin. Once you stood in front of him again, trapped between the reassuring weight of his legs, you heard the familiar hiss of air that released whenever he removed his helmet.

According to Mandalorian tradition, a Mandalorian could not reveal their identities to anyone. They wore their protective beskar, including the helmet, to hide themselves from the world.

Not once, in the years that you had known Changbin, had he ever revealed himself to you. Even in intimate moments like this, you could only touch him when there was darkness to keep himself hidden.

“Kitten,” Changbin growled, and you realized you had been tuning him out. “Sit.”

Like a well-trained animal, you straddled his thighs, perching yourself on his lap as his hands flew to grip your waist.

“Pretty thing,” Changbin murmured in a tone much softer than you had anticipated. One that slowed your heart rather than speeding it up.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, delighted when he was quick to acquiesce, clearly in no mood for teasing. Instead of his usual, teasing pecks, these kisses were deep and sensual, capable of warming you all the way down to the tips of your toes.

You sighed into the kiss, feeling that his breath was hot against your lips, and you couldn’t get enough of his taste. Of the rough sensation of the five o’clock shadow that dusted his face and chin. Fingers moving against the texture like it was raised braille that you could read and learn. Memorize to recall later when you might touch yourself in bed to thoughts of him.

“Eager,” Changbin grunted when you took his lower lip between your teeth to give it a nip. “Asking for trouble.”

Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers wrapping in the curls that grew from around his ears. “Can you blame me?” you grinned, letting out a little whine when his hips jerked up from under your own, grinding himself perfectly against the tight seam of your shorts.

“What do you want?” Changbin asked, grip tightening and letting you know that he would give you what you wanted, but under his full discretion.

“I want to cum,” you whispered, gasping when one of his hands moved to grip a handful of your ass, squeezing with a strong hold.

“Then you’ll do it right here,” he said, and you understood his intention immediately, feeling his thigh clench under you. “Ride me.”

You nodded fiercely, foreheads meeting in the hot middle, sharing precious oxygen between your hungry lips as you started to move yourself against him, friction building as the burning sensation of his leather pants rubbed against the loose shorts that barely kept you hidden.

“Move like this, kitten,” Changbin instructed, and you nearly choked around a hoarse moan when he started rocking you back and forth against his thigh, grip impossibly strong. You could sense yourself growing even wetter, a familiar tightening building in your core, demanding release.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into his armor to keep yourself anchored. At this point, you were desperate, hips grinding against his muscled thigh with as much strength as you could muster, chasing that delicious release as he simply looked on with a growl, cologne thick in the air between you.

“That’s it,” he encouraged you, both hands landing on your ass to move you even closer. You bent your head to hide yourself in his shoulder, shivering each time the tight bulge of his cock knocked against your sensitive pussy, giving your clit just enough pressure to push you right over the edge.

“Pretty,” Changbin declared, still perfectly put-together as if he hadn’t just brought you to an earth-shattering orgasm while still rock-hard in his leather pants.

“Changbin,” you trembled, giving a few weak grinds to ride out the rest of your high, breathing hard with sweat dripping down the back of your neck.

“My turn,” Changbin grunted, and there was no room to collect yourself before he was grabbing you again, parting his legs to give you enough room to slink down between his thighs.

You felt firm hands at your shoulders, pushing you the rest of the way into the floor. Then, there was the familiar sound of his zipper, the shuffling of fabric, before the wet tip of his cock prodded against your lips. “Suck,” Changbin growled, and you were helpless to disobey.

You took Changbin’s dick in one hand, testing the dry tug before thumbing at the slit. Changbin tensed, letting out a low groan which only served to give you more confidence, knowing exactly what he liked.

Propping yourself up on his knees, you gave a teasing lick to the tip of Changbin’s cock, finding that you didn’t mind the slight salty taste. It was different, but not in such a way that made you want to take things slower. You licked along the underside, pleasantly surprised to feel the vein pulsing against your tongue.

Hungrier now, you took the first few inches into your mouth, testing the weight and the stretch of your lips. Once again you found it wasn’t that bad - familiar, but not bad. The sounds that were spilling from Changbin’s pretty mouth definitely fed your arousal as you started bobbing your head.

Changbin’s fingers found your hair but your Mandalorian didn’t attempt to pull, unlike how you had yanked on Changbin’s. Your found yourself wanting Changbin to pull on your hair, but you figured that was something for another day. You could feel spit pooling in your mouth and starting to drip out of the corners of your mouth and down Changbin’s shaft. It was getting messy, but that only made it better.

You knew as soon as the salty taste started to get more intense that Changbin was getting close. Pride filled your chest knowing that you were the one to make someone as lovely as Changbin fall apart. You pulled off, using your hand to continue jerking Changbin off as you pressed kisses to the inside of his bare thigh. You lost against your urges and began sucking marks into the skin there, reveling in how he twitched and moaned at the sensations.

“Kitten, I’m close.” Changbin groaned, and it spurred you into moving your hand faster. You hovered over Changbin’s cock, preparing to drip some spit down to make the slide slicker only to find hot cum splashing you in the face. It hit your cheek, making you close one eye as you worked Changbin through his orgasm.

“Oh...” you breathed, surprised but equally as pleased. You wiped some of the cum off your cheek as you listened to just how disheveled and wrecked Changbin sounded, all because of your ministrations.

Afterward, with your head against the inside of his leg, you were struggling to catch your breath while one of Changbin’s gloved hands gently brushed through your hair.

Tatooine had a formidable reputation, and it was for this reason that you stuck to Changbin like glue when you landed on the desert planet, waiting off to the side as the others unloaded the bounties you had collected, encased in carbonite for the trip.

There was only one lone Aqualish mercenary that survived outside of the carbonite freezing as requested by the one who put the bounty on his head. You watched through narrowed eyes as Chan handed him over to Changbin who wrestled the frightened Aqualish to stand next to him, hands bound behind his back.

“Don’t move,” Changbin growled, a sound that likely terrified the Aqualish but only served to dampen your panties.

“Alright, let’s go,” Chan said, once the last of the bounty had been removed from the ship and handed over to the two Duros who had been sent by the head of the bounty hunters guild to collect your bodies.

This wasn’t your first time being apart of the exchange, and you knew that the next step was to meet Mr. Park inside the cantina to collect payment and personally hand over your Aqualish.

“Stay close,” Changbin muttered to you, and your hands flew to the edges of his whispering, black cloak, head bowed low as you followed the rest of your crew from behind, drawing plenty of attention from the other street goers who had been shopping in the local market.

As it should, perhaps, considering the strange, eclectic mix of hardened, battle-ready men who Chan had recruited and offered a place next to his side. Making a great deal of money while being able to do the one thing all of them were exceptionally talented at. It was a good sign, you supposed, that your reputation preceded you, even if it was hard to endure the harsh stares.

At least the trip wasn’t far from the landing pad, and you were grateful when you could see the familiar sight of the cantina up ahead, standing out as the largest brick and mortar building with a steady influx of patrons walking in and out the double doors.

“Bang Chan!” a masculine voice purred from the crowd, and you weren’t surprised to see Mr. Park, head of the bounty hunter’s guild, approaching with his arms wide open. Dressed to the nines in his best robe and finest silks. A sign of his formidable wealth, accumulated at the behest of those unfortunate enough to garner a bounty on their heads.

“Park,” Chan grumbled, reluctantly accepting the embrace. Not that you blamed him. Park was as scummy as they came.

Who knew where those hands had been.

“No Raphael?” Park hummed, surveying the trail of bounties following the Duros behind the Cantina.

“He wasn’t coming quietly,” Hyunjin remarked in that cold tone that spoke volumes.

“Left him dead in his office,” Minho added with a smile that could scare even the roughest group of galactic starfighters.

“Well,” Park cleared his throat, forcing a smile. “Good to see everyone is in high spirits.”

Jisung rolled his eyes, stepping aside as Park closed the distance between you and Changbin. “You know, Mando, we could really use someone of your skill around here. Especially when the rowdier hunters come in.”

You tried not to look at Changbin, standing next to the Aqualish like he was perfectly at ease. He had the benefit of hiding his wandering gaze behind cold steel, but you did not have the same luxuries. And it would not look professional.

“I’m fine with my team,” came his modulated response, to which Mr. Park merely sighed and brushed it aside.

“Very well, but you know where to find me.”

Chan rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “We’ll need lodging tonight, then we can talk about new jobs in the morning.”

“I’ll take care of it right away!” Park said, clapping his hands together and giving a loud whistle. “I do have something for you, Mr. Bang, that I think your crew will like very much! And there’s a big price tag attached.”

“Great,” Chan sighed, crossing his arms and looking entirely impatient as two of Park’s men escaped from the cantina, holding an array of golden keys.

“You each have a room waiting,” Park said, and you refused to meet his gaze as you accepted the cold metal between your fingertips. “I’d love for any of you to join me tonight for dinner! Until then, I’ve opened a tab for you at the bar, free of charge!”

That was all Minho and Hyunjin needed to hear, tucking away their keys as they started for the cantina entrance. Park chuckled at their hasty escape, tossing a nonchalant arm around Chan’s shoulders, ignoring the glare from the man in question. “Join me in my quarters, Chan. I have something to discuss with you.”

You watched as Chan’s form was swallowed by the snooping crowd of onlookers, sucking in a sharp breath when a Duro suddenly appeared at your side. “We can take the Aqualish.”

Changbin grunted his assent, roughly forcing the Aqualish in the Duro’s direction. “See to it then,” Changbin said, and the Duro offered his acquiescence, keeping a firm hold on your last prisoner.

“I’m heading further into the city for something better than bar food and sleazy strippers,” Jisung suddenly announced once they were out of earshot. “Anyone interested in tagging along?”

Seungmin and Jeongin agreed, and Jisung arched a brow in your direction. “I’ll just rest,” you said, and Changbin must’ve done something to brush Jisung off, leaving you both alone once they had flagged down a cruiser to speed along the busy streets of Tatooine.

“Thanks,” you said to him to fill the tense quiet. “For letting me stay close to you.”

Changbin nodded, tilting his head to the side as if considering you. You held your breath when he drew closer, leaning down to brush the bottom of his helmet against the top of your head. “You know my room number,” Changbin whispered to you as if you were locked together in your own little world.

His proximity cleared all rational thought from your head, words failing you as you managed a nod, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you watched him disappear into the cantina.

Later that night, lying spread out under his weight, you were glad that you had taken the opportunity to tend to your personal affairs before meeting Changbin.

There were very few thoughts left in your head after being drug into his bed, fingers tangled in his thick locks, keeping him tucked against your neck to decorate dark bruises on your skin as he fucked you with rough thrusts that had your cunt screaming for reprieve.

In the darkened room, breaths knocked from your lungs at every stroke of his cock, you wondered if he would even grow tired. All the energy had been sapped from your limbs, but Changbin was still moving like he planned to stay inside of you all night, using you while you slept, a limp doll to warm his cock and keep him in a tight vice.

Shit, the man knew what he was doing, turning your insides into mush and bringing you on the verge of your second orgasm of the night, even as Changbin showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

The thing was, Changbin could last, keeping you pliant under him for hours as he had his way with you, growling out curses when you clenched around him just right, cock drilling between your walls to shape you just for him.

He always fucked you like he would never get a chance to have another moment like this again. As if it was the last time. Even though you had fucked enough at this point to have practically memorized one another’s bodies, well-versed in your signs and the physical language that expressed when it was on the verge of too much.

It didn’t matter that you had never seen Changbin before, always hidden away in the dark. You felt like you knew him, even without mapping out his features with your eyes. Instead, you relied on touch to understand him, feeling across the defined muscles in his arms and chest, the perfect angular set to his jaw, and the sharp edge of his nose when it brushed against your clit, lips wrapped around the sensitive bud.

“So tight,” Changbin whispered, tongue tracing the line of your collarbone. “Feel so good around me.”

“Please,” you begged, even without knowing what you really wanted from him, stuck between too much and not enough as his fingers dug into your waist, squeezing tight.

“What are you asking me for?” Changbin grunted. You could only shake your head, even if he couldn’t see, unable to manage words when his rough grinding prevented you from speaking.

You could feel the strength in his powerful thighs, encasing you in a strong grip on either side. The smooth, but rough, sensation of his skin, hairs coarse and scars raised like braille. Your hands gripped his biceps, squeezing tight to the muscles working there, a constant reminder that he could break you if he wanted to do so.

And maybe there were times when you wanted him to do just that. To turn you around onto your stomach, one hand clasped tight over your mouth to prevent your screams, and the other arm anchoring both of yours back for him to hold. He’d mount you just like that, guide his cock home without preparing you on his fingers first. You dreamed about that often, of him just taking and taking, even if you were grateful that he often spent his leisurely time opening you up in preparation for the thick erection between his legs.

Changbin could be rough, but it was usually only when he was close to cumming, when that little break in his rhythm meant a total loss of control. When all that mattered was reaching that sweet, sensual high. Thoughts of your well-being briefly forgotten as he chased after what he wanted.

In a fight, Changbin was never careful. The same fingers that worked you open and played gentle music on your clit, could slice a man in half or break a neck in one harsh twist. The same voice that lulled you into a submissive headspace could also growl threats and curses and sully a man’s name. The same muscles that had broken a man’s spine kept you perfectly still under him, in whatever position he wanted, while you cried and begged for him.

“Are you close?” Changbin growled, nipping at your ear to get your attention back on him.

To hold you in the present moment, stomach clenched in preparation for another orgasm, heat building in your abdomen. Each seductive thrust fed the flames licking under your skin, and you whined when he leaned down for a long, explorative kiss, licking into your mouth and tasting your tongue against his own.

“Close,” you gasped, pleasure dancing through every nerve when he sat up on his heels, hands grabbing your thighs for more leverage.

“Come on my cock, kitten,” Changbin hissed into your ear, breath hot against your skin.

You were helpless to obey, mouth parting around a wordless scream, tears falling at their own volition when his fingers pressed rough circles on your clit, drawing out your orgasm with wave after wave of intense pleasure.

He was still moving when you were done, failing to push him away as he pinned your arms to your sides, slamming his hips down harder to force you back into submission.

“You can take it, kitten,” Changbin reminded you, even as you shook your head, even as he started to move a little faster, holding his head back with a groan.

“Please,” you whimpered again, and then Changbin was back on top of you, forehead meeting your own.

“Can I?” Changbin asked, being so careful with you, and you nearly cried at his thoughtfulness.

“Yes,” you practically screamed, and then Changbin was taking hold at the backs of your knees, grip so tight you knew it would leave bruises, to fuck himself harder, jostling you up the mattress with the force of his thrusts.

It was rough and barbaric, and you were burning with overstimulation, but then his hips jostled in place, slowing down to a stop and you could feel his warm cum as it started to leak from the place where you were connected.

“So good,” Changbin said, holding himself above you on his arms, skin shining with a sheen of sweat.

You were both breathing hard, matching inhales when he pulled free, leaving behind a mess you would regret later.

Your heart fluttered inside your chest, eyelids growing heavy when he moved to lay next to you, one arm wrapping around your waist to pull you against his side. It was too hot in that position, but when you tried to pull away, his grip only became stronger.

“Stay,” Changbin said, surprising you with its earnestness.

“But-”

“No arguments,” Changbin interrupted, and you were taken aback by the sweet way he held you closer, keeping you resting against his side, wrapped in strong arms.

“When we wake up...”

“Don’t worry,” he said, as if sensing your fears. What if you saw him in the daytime, with the sun coming up and the room lit with a faint flow? “I’ll get up first.”

You swallowed hard, nodding your head because it was hard to tell him no, especially when you craved his presence like nothing else.

The next morning, Changbin was gone, and you got dressed before heading downstairs to the cantina to meet with everyone.

The first face you recognized was Minho’s, standing against the counter connected to the bar, eyeing Chan and Mr. Park who stood talking together from across the room. You were curious, sliding next to Minho under the guise of ordering a drink. “How long have they been down here?” you asked Minho, raising your hand to signal the bartender.

“Too long,” Minho replied, and you huffed in frustration when the bartender ignored you in favor of a separate group wearing what appeared to be the finest silk money could afford.

“Figures,” you muttered in reference to both Chan and the patrons.

“He’s waiting for the others,” Minho remarked. “Supposedly.”

“Chan indulges him,” you said. “He takes advantage of his patience.”

“One day Chan will snap,” Minho hummed, and you nodded your agreement, glancing around the room with vague interest.

“Here,” Minho said, dragging your attention back to the bar, eyes falling to where Minho was pushing what appeared to be a market pastry in your direction. “Mando left this here for you.”

Your cheeks warmed at the mention of Changbin, reaching down to carefully unravel the food, stomach growling at the idea of breakfast. Your first bite almost drew out a moan, eyes closing to savor the taste.

“Speaking of people who are too indulgent,” Minho said, pointedly looking between your food and a spot over your shoulder.

You swallowed around your bite, glancing back to see Changbin entering the Cantina with Hyunjin and Han behind him. “He’s just looking out for me,” you muttered.

“Is that all?” Minho smirked, but you chose to ignore his teasing, finishing your food as the boys approached where you stood.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Han proclaimed, voice carrying throughout the cantina. Enough so that Chan aimed a glare in your direction before returning his attention to Park.

But Han didn’t care, flagging down the bartender with ease, to which you scowled. He always made things look simple, and it was this thought that distracted you from the Mandalorian who had started to move even closer, pitching his voice for your ears only.

“Sleep well?” the modulated voice husked from next to you.

“I did,” you agreed, trying to hide a smile, thoughts of Han disappearing in an instant. “Tuckered myself out last night.”

“What did you get up to?” Changbin asked, and you could hear the amusement in his tone, working your brain for a good quip, but the sudden appearance of Chan and Mr. Park sent a wave of silence over your group.

“Seungmin and Jeongin are handling some supplies,” Chan said. “Mr. Park will escort the rest of us for a private interview.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bang! I have someone who really wants to meet you,” Park explained. “In the other room.”

“Sounds riveting,” Hyunjin sighed.

Yet, no one protested as Mr. Park led the way to a winding staircase jutting out from the wall, leading upstairs to the second level you seldom noticed. It was quieter up there, the cantina’s music muted, and there was a clear tension in the air as you walked to the end of the hall, pausing outside of a door.

“You have my word that this individual will bring you no harm,” Mr. Park said in an ominous tone that had you frowning.

Why did he feel the need to give such a promise?

Your question was answered in the very next moment, when Mr. Park opened the door to reveal a slightly darkened room. There was a long, wooden table occupying the space, and at the very end, reclined in a metal chair, sat a stormtrooper, helmet placed in front of him as he offered a tentative smile at your group.

You could hear Chan’s sharp inhale, and the firm grip of Changbin as he took your arm in his hand. “What the fuck?” Han cursed, breaking the silence and any of Minho’s restraint as he reached for the blaster holstered at his side.

“Well, this is a sight for sore eyes,” the stormtrooper chuckled, even as you could feel the tension in Changbin, and detect the noticeable strain in the others.

“What is this?” Chan demanded, turning on Park who simply held up his hands in a faux gesture of surrender.

“You know I’d never lead you astray, Bang! The guy is legit. I had my best men look into him.”

“A stormtrooper?” Hyunjin scoffed.

“All I’m asking is for you to hear him out!” Park insisted, wincing when Minho brought the blaster into sight. “Seriously! He has no allegiance to the Empire. Plus, he’s willing to pay good if you finish a job for him!”

“Bang,” Minho growled, shifting between his feet. He said nothing else, but that single syllable spoke a coherent warning.

Chan scowled, gaze lowering as if battling with his own thoughts - urges to fight and protect conflicting with an inherent curiosity pertaining to whatever business an ex-stormtrooper could require. “Sit,” Chan eventually barked, a clear order that he wasn’t in a joking mood.

“Fucking hell,” Minho sighed, re-holstering his blaster as he shoved around Chan, taking the seat closest to the stormtrooper as if determined that he would be the first line of defense.

Chan sat across from him, on the stormtrooper’s other side, and the rest of your crew slowly fell into place, taking the remaining seats. It left you perched on the end, practically shoved against Changbin as he kept a protective arm around your shoulders.

“Talk,” Chan demanded next, startling the stormtrooper who seemed chastened by the reaction he had just witnessed.

“I have a job, and Park said you were the best of the best,” he started. “I guess I should start from the beginning. You see, my old captain bailed when the Empire fell,” the stormtrooper explained. “Not that I expected him to stick around, but he always had eyes for my sister. Used her against me in the beginning when I was recruited.”

He paused here, taking in the room. “My name is Jackson, and I’m asking for you to look past my uniform. To look past an organization I no longer serve, and one I never believed in. I was recruited young, brainwashed into following orders that I didn’t care to follow. Not that you care about that part. The real reason I’m here is because of my sister. She was kidnapped by my old captain, and I’m determined to get her back.”

You exhaled slowly at his story, searching the expressions of your crew to try and decipher their reactions. “She doesn’t deserve it,” Jackson insisted. “To keep suffering because of me.”

“So, you want us to come with you to save your sister...” Chan asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Help me get her back,” Jackson said in a pleading tone. “And I’ll make it worth your while.”

Chan nodded, sitting back in his chair, gaze flitting to Minho who arched one brow. “This could be dangerous for us. We’d have to consider the logistics. Do you even have any idea where this guy is?”

“I’ve tracked him to the edge of the Andromeda galaxy,” Jackson explained, pulling a tracker from his suit pocket to place it down on the table. “All we need to do is board his ship and get rid of his men.”

Hyunjin snorted at the proposal. “You make it sound too easy. Like a Captain of the Empire wouldn’t have security in place to protect him.”

“They’re not loyal,” Jackson said in a firm tone. “They won’t stick around for him. I’ll give you any information you’ll need, I’ve done my fair share of research.”

“Have you?” Hyunjin sneered, but Chan held up a hand in his direction.

“We’ll hear all that you have. If you can answer our questions, and give us time to consider the schematics, we’ll let you know what we decide.”

“That’s all I’m asking for!” Jackson said, a smile contorting his lips. “Just a chance, and I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”

Chan simply nodded, exchanging a look with Minho, and you moved even closer to Changbin, worried about the dangers that could be waiting on the other side of the galaxy...worried about the safety of your family and whether or not you could take on the wrath of the Empire.

An Empire in decline.

A desperate Empire.

One that had nothing left to lose...

The Stormtrooper had everything mapped out to perfection. It was almost too perfect, in your unconsidered opinion, voicing your concerns aloud to Chan who simply sighed. “He checks out,” Chan had told you. “And he’s paying good money for the job.”

“He’s a stormtrooper!”

“From a fallen Empire,” Chan said, and that was all you needed to hear to roll your eyes and walk away, knowing that he had already made up his mind.

“Chan finds the best of the best,” Changbin tried to reassure you later that night as you helped him load the ship. “His sources are always right.”

“Does it matter when it involves an stormtrooper?”

“Of course it matters,” Changbin replied. “But Chan is smart. You know this. He’d never put any of our lives in unnecessary risk.”

You swallowed down your complaints, keeping silent for the rest of your time together, ignoring the simmering tension in the air - something thick and palpable. Barely able to hold back when your instincts remained on high alert.

There was nothing you could do to change the outcome, so you kept to yourself for the rest of the day, assisting when you were asked to do something. Helping Minho on the ship, or working to ensure that the ship’s weapon system was calibrated correctly. It was dull and unexciting work, made all the worse by the nagging worry constantly diluting your thoughts.

You barely slept that night, in your own room, despite Changbin’s request for you to join him. He would only distract you from your thoughts, and you needed the time alone to work through the heavy burden weighing down on you - the never-ending dread that filled the pit of your stomach when you thought about something bad happening to your crew.

They were all you had. Out of all the lost stars in the galaxy, they chose you. And you felt the crushing hand around your windpipe closing its unforgiving fist thinking about life without them.

But Chan’s mind was made up, and there was no stopping this mission. Whatever he had found out about the stormtrooper - his past, his misgivings - weren’t enough to stop you from moving forward. Changbin had been right about Chan’s sources - they had never been wrong before.

Even if there was always a first time for everything.

“Are you mad at me?” Changbin asked when you met the rest of your crew outside the ship the following morning, glaring daggers at the stormtrooper who spoke with both Park and Chan.

“Not you,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest and ignoring his teasing chuckle.

“Relax,” he purred, leaning in close enough to distract your gaze. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“I know,” you grumbled, letting him take one of your hands before leading you both onto the ship.

Immediately, you headed to the cockpit to check on the ship’s main controls, ensuring that nothing needed to be re-calibrated. Han always called it overkill, since you checked it at least a dozen times before taking off, but you could never be too careful. The ship was an older model that had seen its fair share of gunfire.

“Good to go?” Minho asked when he joined you later on, sitting down in the pilot’s chair.

“Yeah,” you agreed, holding your breath when he started up the ship, guiding the front toward the skyline.

You closed your eyes for this part as the jump to hyperspace always made you feel nauseous. Minho chuckled at the action, but you ignored him, waiting with bated breath until you could feel the ship leaving the cold prism of lightspeed, settling into something calmer.

When you looked up again, you saw nothing but a familiar sea of stars that helped to settle your stomach. “The others decided to play cards downstairs if you want to join them,” Minho suggested, and you nodded, leaving him to mind the controls while you climbed the ladder down the main floor.

You let yourself be guided toward the intermingling sound of voices, exhaling slightly when you noticed Chan and Jackson were not among the ones seated at the little table tucked away at the side of your kitchenette. “Y/N!” Han chirped in greeting, and Jeongin moved over to make an obvious space for you.

“Thought I’d watch,” you said, making yourself comfortable. “Got a keep an eye out for cheaters!”

“Hey!” Han protested, but it was enough to get Seungmmin going, starting one of his all too-common rants about Han’s less than ideal playing habits.

You laughed at their bickering, feeling your shoulders relax at the familiar banter. Until a set of heavy footsteps had you perking up, watching Han’s gaze fall to something over your shoulder.

“Buying in, Mando?” Han grinned, and you could feel him moving in closer, presence hot as he leaned over to address Han.

“100 credits.”

Hyunjin let out a low whistle, cards held up to hide the lower part of his face. “Do you think you’re good enough?”

Changbin chuckled, lowering himself next to you on the bench, and you were hyper-aware of the way your thighs touched.

“Deal me in,” he rasped as a response.

“This is a rare treat,” Han remarked, but he nodded at Seungmin who shuffled the deck of cards without a word of protest.

“You go first,” Han offered as if he was doing Changbin a favor.

Changbin looked down at his cards before pushing a stack of chips to the center of the table. “Already?” Hyunjin chuckled, and there was a calm expression on his face as he pushed his own chips to the middle. “I’ll call.”

“Fold,” Han said, placing his cards facedown in front of him. “You can never tell with Mando.”

But you could, even without seeing the handsome face you could only dream about at night laying next to him. You could tell his signs, subtle as they were. The way a muscle jumped in his thigh or the deeper breath released from his modulated helmet.

Mando was nervous, or at least, less confident about his moves. Unfortunately for him, Hyunjin wasn’t accepting his bluff, calling him every time Seungmin dealt another card.

“Show your hands.”

Hyunjin smirked, revealing a full house. Mando chuckled from next to you, tossing down his own lackluster hand. “Thought so,” Hyunjin smiled, raking in all the chips toward himself.

“Ah, you can’t bluff with Hyunjin,” Han tsked, ignoring the way Changbin had leaned in closer to you.

“We might have some time before we land.”

You swallowed at his heavy implication, ready to grab his hand and lead you both to the back of the ship, when Chan suddenly appeared with Jackson, eyebrows pulled taught together.

“We’re landing soon,” Chan warned, and you felt the light-hearted air grow heavy with something dangerously palpable, knowing you were about to embark on your most dangerous mission yet.

The galactic cruiser was just as you remembered, bringing back memories of the before times when the Empire’s power was solidified. You could feel the palpable concern in your crew, and the anger in Jackson as he glared at an unidentifiable spot through the glass.

You trusted most of the men on your ship with your entire life, and so far, Jackson had not done anything to earn your ire. Maybe you were simply put-out by the inherent dangers of this mission and blamed him for dragging you all into such a precarious situation.

Then again, Chan had agreed. And he had done so wittingly. Without protest or second thought.

You studied your leader, beckoning everyone closer as your ship halted at a safe and undetectable distance from the cruiser. Soon, Chan would have Minho land the ship beneath the cruiser’s hull where security wouldn’t be able to pick up on your signal. From there, you would all disembark through a security door and carry out the mission at hand.

“Let’s remember what we’ve discussed,” Chan said, and he nodded at Minho who started in the direction of the helm.

From behind you, Changbin stepped closer, listening as Chan continued speaking, and you resisted the urge to drown him out and lean back into Chanbin’s steady weight.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to maintain your façade for long, and your heart dropped to your stomach at a jolt from the ship, signaling that power had been cut. Minho returned shortly thereafter, and your fingers found the worn holes in Changbin’s cape.

“Are we ready?” Chan asked, and you could hear the shared affirmations from your group, even above the thundering race of your pulse.

You swallowed hard as Chan organized everyone into groups, pacing back and forth as your crew stood in formation. “Keep to your assignments,” he ordered. “We must remain invisible.”

You trembled at the short, perfunctory tone behind his words, wondering if everyone else held the same level of unease. It would be all too easy for this mission to go awry, even with the most meticulous of planning, and there was nobody who prepared more for a potential fight than Chan.

It was with bated breath that you watched Chan, Han, and Seungmin move out with the first group, turning around to face Changbin and Felix who had been assigned together with you. You sighed, trying to hold your head high as Changbin finished a muted conversation with Felix before turning to look at you.

“Come with me.”

You followed him at once, re-entering the cargo area of the ship as the others moved about, getting ready for what was to come. “I don’t know what you have planned...” you started when you were safely tucked away with Changbin out of sight, taking the loose leather belt from him that he was struggling to secure around himself.

“Stay on the ship.”

You frowned at Changbin’s words, standing in such close proximity as you helped him adjust his belt, weapons clipped in order.

“Did Chan say that?”

“I’m saying that.”

His sharp words only deepened the scowl you likely wore, your displeasure reading clear and open. “I could be useful if the droids fail...”

“Stay.”

His tone had deepened, gloved hand flying out to grip your chin. “Changbin-”

“Chan gave me the directive to lead my group,” he reminded your sullen form. “I choose to leave you on the ship. Just in case.”

“Fine,” you lied through clenched teeth, determined to do anything you could to help. Even if your help wasn’t wanted.

Changbin hummed at your agreement, and you helped him secure his weapons, standing aside as he started around you. He had always been stubborn and overprotective, but you were short-handed as it was, and there was no reason you couldn’t handle yourself.

But you still waited until Changbin and Felix, the last of the crew, had vanished into the darkened security entrance before hurrying behind them.

You had managed to snag a blaster without Changbin’s notice, and you held it tight to your chest once you dipped through the security door and landed feet first inside the enemy ship, peeking around the corner before taking off for the security room. With the blaster in stun mode, you easily took out the two guards who had been stationed inside, wincing when their heads clunked down against the machinery.

“You can do this, Y/N,” you assured yourself as you surveyed your surroundings, grunting with the exertion of pushing one of the guards to the side, giving you complete access to the security cameras. “I knew it,” you huffed, coming to the rapid realization that the droids had failed to disarm every camera on board - a job which you easily accomplished, making sure that there were no eyes on your men...

“Hey!”

The unexpected sound of an unfamiliar voice had your fingers freezing above the controls.

“Turn around at once, solider!”

You let out a deep breath, doing as the voice commanded, coming face to face with the barrel of a blaster held between two gloved hands. The man in front of you was clearly no stranger to battle, and his uniform marked him as an enemy of the Republic.

“What is your name and identification number?” he asked, scanning over your form and likely wondering if you could be trusted.

You tried to make yourself as small as possible, putting on your best pout. “I was asked to come down,” you lied, palms clammy from holding the blaster behind your back. “There are intruders-”

“I know,” the guard growled over your words. “But that’s not what I asked you.”

“My identification number is not with me,” you said, and this only irritated the guard more.

“You aren’t supposed to be here without proper identification,” the guard said, raising his blaster a little higher as his eyes raked over you - likely wondering whether or not to believe your half-assed story.

“I can bring you my identification-”

“Silence!” he shouted above you, and this time, your eyes had to cross from the close proximity of the blaster as he stepped even closer, invading your space with a snarl. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

You held your tongue, unable to utter a single syllable in the presence of death. You tried not to shake, swallowing hard and searching your mind for something to say, when a shadow crossed your field of vision, and the blaster fell to the floor in front of you.

“Hey!” the guard shouted, and you fell back against the controls, eyes widening when you recognized your Mandalorian in the room, fighting hand to hand with the nasty guard who had threatened you.

You winced when the guard rammed Changbin against the wall, causing him to drop his own blaster. It fell close to your feet, glinting dangerously in the flickering lights of the room.

“The gun, Y/N,” you heard Changbin growl, grunting with the force of taking an elbow to the chest.

It was like you were disembodied, reaching down to wrap your fingers around the cool handle of the blaster. Even while the struggle continued in the background, the sounds of violence echoing in your ears.

“Shoot him!”

The words did little to penetrate the haze surrounding you. But you winced as the guard managed to land another swift blow to Changbin, bringing him down to one knee.

Changbin. In danger!

Your hands trembled, faced with a task you had never accomplished before. You remembered a time, from long ago, standing in an empty shooting range with Changbin. His hands had been warm and firm on your waist, guiding your hands and arms in place. “Hold it like this,” he had instructed you, keeping things steady when you shot for the very first time, a proud smile stretching across your lips...

“You can do this,” he had whispered then, and you savored the sweet words and his tickling breath on the back of your neck.

“Y/N!”

You blinked rapidly to draw yourself back into the room because Changbin in the present was on the ground, struggling against another man’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs.

Focus.

There was a heavy weight sitting on your chest, keeping you from breathing, as you did your best to aim at the guard in front of you before finally allowing your fingers to click the trigger in place.

You heard the defeating sound of the killing blast, having been switched out of stun mode. A sharp breath left your lips as your trembling legs brought you forward to the two bodies on the ground. You stood over your Mandalorian, lowering the blaster with trembling hands.

“Binnie-” you croaked, heart heavy with dread.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said, grunting as he struggled to sit up.

“Were you hit-”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted, as if he could possibly dismiss your concerns.

But it didn’t look like he was fine, struggling to even move to a sitting position, and there was blood.

So much blood

Everywhere.

You were hyperventilating, completely on the verge of passing out, barely able to focus on your Mandalorian. “I-I hurt you...”

Your heart thudded to a stop, breath caught in your throat when Changbin reached up, grabbing his helmet and slowly raising it above his head.

“Changbin,” you whispered, suddenly unable to focus on anything else but the unexpected sight in front of you: Changbin revealing himself without an ounce of hesitation.

Your eyes widened, growing perceptibly wider, greedily drinking in the face that you could only dream of at night curled against him. In the bleakness of the dark, encased in shadows to hide him from your curious gaze.

“It’s alright, kitten,” he whispered in an unexpectedly deep tone. “It only grazed me. Come here.”

You did as he directed, falling into his arms. Even with your eyes still glued to his handsome countenance, tracing the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow with the tips of your fingers.

Strong nose. Angular jawline. Eyes as black as the deepest parts of space.

You couldn’t stop staring, drinking it in like a Bantha finding water for the first time in days after treading across the desert plains of Tatooine. Unable to keep yourself under control, and unable to stop the impulses telling you to touch everything that your eyes had just been gifted.

He had broken his code. Removed his helmet for you all in the hopes of calming you down.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed into your shoulder. “I lied to you. I disobeyed and left the ship. The guild-”

“None of that matters,” Changbin said, fisting your hair to pull your gaze to his, leaning down to press a careful kiss to your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“You can’t call yourself a Mandalorian anymore.”

“Maybe I’m not,” Changbin said, choosing his words carefully. “Not anymore.”

“Binnie-”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” he interrupted, thumbing his way across your lips. “A friend. A fighter.” His tone dipped into something warm and honeyed. “A lover.”

“Changbin-”

He cut you off with an unexpected kiss, locking you both together with a hand on the back of your head.

“We’re okay, kitten,” he whispered when you parted for air, the words wrapping you in a warm caress. “Everything will be just fine.”

You weren’t so sure about his bold declaration, but it was hard to argue with Changbin when he had presented himself in such earnestness, giving you all of him in every way that he could.

“Let’s get back to the others,” he suggested, helping you stand and keeping a strong arm holding you to him, guiding you both from the security room and toward the light.

It was done, or so you tried to tell yourself. Keeping your arms wrapped across your torso, shivering from the events that took place in the security room. Changbin kept a protective arm around your waist, leading you back to the ship, which at least offered you some consolation that everything had went well before he had been forced to come save you...

Your shoulders dropped when you laid eyes on your crew, counting everyone as present, including Jackson. The collective sounds of your footsteps on the tiled floors halted all conversations, and that’s when every eye in the room flew to you and Changbin.

You cringed at the collective shock in your group at the sight of a helmet-less Changbin. Eight pairs of eyes watching you both, silence growing thick. You held tighter to Changbin’s arm, breathing out in a soft exhale.

“You’re better-looking than I imagined,” Han eventually remarked, which, at the very least, seemed to ease some of the tension.

Changbin snorted. “Thanks.”

“You good?” Chan asked, studying Changbin with an uncertain gaze, seemingly unsure about where to look.

“Everything is fine,” Changbin reassured him, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. “I promise. No damage has been done.”

Chan nodded. “We were worried when you didn’t come back on time. But we figured everything was fine since we were able to finish our jobs.” He took a step to the side, allowing you to see the frightened figure huddled behind Chan, plastered against Jackson’s side with a timid gaze.

“You found her,” Changbin agreed.

“Thanks to all of you,” Jackson added, offering a warm smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho suddenly spoke up, taking a step forward. “Let’s just get out of here before we push our luck.”

Your other crew mates muttered their agreements, and you were relieved to let Changbin practically drag you back on the ship, still keeping you supported in your state of shock. You could feel the effects wearing off, the total freezing up that you had experienced when under the threat of death, but there was still a haziness keeping you from feeling secure on your own feet.

“Come on, kitten,” Changbin encouraged you, leaving the others to tend to the ship.

They were smart enough not to question you, letting Changbin takeover like he had so often done before. Taking you down below the main deck to your little room, helping you sit down on the edge of the bed before he knelt down to remove your shoes.

You shivered at the cold on your bare feet, hearing him chuckle when he glanced back up. “You keep staring.”

Your gaze averted at once, feeling yourself flush. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured, reaching out to guide your chin back to facing him. “It’s only natural.”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, swallowing hard when he returned to his full height, removing his shirt and pants before asking you to move over and make some more room.

He was an overpowering warmth next to you, gathering you into his arms and raking gentle fingers through your hair. “It’s not your fault,” he said, eventually, when your eyelids had started to close. “I can’t blame you for wanting to help. Shoulda taken you with me to start with.”

“I disobeyed-”

“Stubborn for good reason,” he interrupted, planting a chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

You opened your eyes wider, meeting his honest brown orbs in the middle. “It’s surreal...to see you like this.”

He smiled. “A good thing?”

“A selfish part of me thinks so...”

“Not selfish either,” he argued, leaning close to connect your foreheads. “Wanted to show you everything for a while now. Planned on it, actually..”

You let out a little noise, shocked that Changbin would even plan something like this after living his life loyal to the Mandalorian code...

“Don’t think too hard about it,” he chuckled, nosing his way across the bridge of your jaw. “Get some rest. There will be plenty of time to talk.”

You gave a sleepy nod in response, more than eager to succumb to the sleep you needed.

You had never been so glad to lay eyes on the sea of red that defined Tatooine, leaving the ship feeling more rested than you had in years.

The rest of your crew loitered around outside, exchanging your final goodbyes with Jackson and his sister, who finally seemed more at ease far away from that horrible ship, even letting a small smile soften her features.

“Always call on us, yeah?” Chan said, and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics.

Jackson reached out, clasping his forearm to Chan’s. “Thank you. For everything.”

Chan dipped his head, a sign of respect. “You have friends in us.”

“It’s hard to find reliable help like that these days,” Jackson remarked. “Even rarer to call someone a friend.”

Chan smiled, accepting the gesture, and you moved in a little closer to Changbin as your crew offered your last farewells. Whatever your next adventure might become, it would certainly be difficult to forget the events of the past few days. Befriending enemies and becoming allies to forgotten causes. Revealing identities that had always been meant to remain a secret...

With one last salute, Jackson wrapped an arm around the delicate shoulders of his sister, leading her further toward the booming marketplace. You watched as Jackson was swallowed by the familiar crowd of patrons before turning to look at Changbin, lips cracking into a grin because you would never get enough of looking at him. His gaze met yours, as if drawn together, and the black of his irises seemed to glow in the fading sunlight.

“Let’s get back to it,” Chan announced, ushering everyone back in the direction of the ship.

Changbin took your hand, holding on tight as you made your way up the ramp. “Y/N, you want to takeover controls?” Minho asked, and you knew that your face betrayed your excitement.

It was rare for Minho to give up controls to you, even if you were properly trained. He was either in a really good mood or exhausted from your adventures. Likely a combination of both.

But you wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “Sure!”

Changbin chuckled at your enthusiasm, and Minho dismissed you with a wave, following Jisung and Hyunjin down below the deck. “You ready?”

His breath tickled the back of your neck, and you couldn’t fight off a shiver. “Always.”

You hummed in agreement, and you climbed the ladder first, working to get everything functional, nodding at the rumble of the engine. Navigating to the edges of space took time and control, and you carefully lifted the ship from the ground, guiding it up toward the sky.

Once you had breached the atmosphere, and the infiniteness of black onyx beckoned you to make the jump to hyper space, you relaxed on the controls, turning it over to autopilot mode. “Good to go?” Changbin asked, joining you in the cockpit.

You urged him to sit down in the captain’s chair, allowing both legs to separate, straddling his lap as he switched the controls to lower the lights, finding yourself lost in his eyes and his sharply defined features. After so long of being deprived of this very moment, you could only be greedy in drinking all of it in for as long as you could.

As if on instinct, you reached out to trace the swell of his lip, feeling your heart skipping several beats, determined to spend the rest of your life learning every curve and line, to show him that you appreciated every ounce of what you had once been denied.

“Kitten,” Changbin purred, and you gasped when his fingers dug into the hourglass shape of your waist.

“I don’t think anyone will be bothering us anytime soon,” you whispered against his lips, feeling his responding laugh before allowing your lips to fit perfectly together: a match literally made in the Heavens.

#changbin smut #changbin fanfic #changbin oneshot #changbin imagines #stray kids fanfic #changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin x y/n #stray kids smut

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dontaskmemybias · 24 days

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Ryder's Lee Know Recommendations

One Shots

What the cat dragged in @moni-logues You followed Minho home because you had nowhere else to go. Then you kept following... all the way into his heart, but not his bed. aka five times you and Minho don't fuck and one time you do. Strangers to friends to lovers done in the best of ways. This fic had me laughing, crying, it was just so fucking good.

Lost in translation @moonjxsung When the older brother of the baby you sit for starts opening up to you what will come next? A heartwarming story filled with some of my favorite trope. Highly recommend.

Slow mode @gimmeurtmi Such a wholesome fic about bf Lee Know comforting you (emotionally and physically) after a long hard day. What better way to shut your brain off?

Bets and situations @skzdarlings Rivals to lovers street racer au filled with some sass and steamy interactions. Loved the antics in this one.

Groupie @gimmeurtmi Rockstar 2min?!?! Holy fuck so hot and also sweet somehow? Loved it.

Cat and mouse @hyunnie04 Enemies to lovers fic with a wily grandmother added into the mix. I'm obsessed. This fic was way too good and I've read it way too many times.

Call your bluff, call me babe @moonlinos Childhood friends to lovers done in the absolute best way. It's a long one but it's so worth it because you really learn about their dynamic in this one.

Living in the ruins @tasteleeknow F2l and tent confessions. So much angst and hurt but with a nice happy ending just like I like.

Purrfect company @anyamaris Coworkers to lovers fic wrapped up in a cute Christmas bow. Lee Know working in a cat cafe is all I needed in life.

Series

The Experience Project Masterlist @leeknowsallyoursecrets Enemies to lovers do it for the experience series filled with angst, smut, and all the goodies. There are some spin-offs in the making for the other characters because they are all so good and well thought out. I don't normally read series but damn this was good.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #lee know smut #lee know hard thoughts #lee know hard hours

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lettersfromaphrodite · 11 months

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[19.45]

― pairing : Changbin x fem! reader ― content warnings : smut, fluff, grease! au - therefore it's the 50's, street racer Changbin, fwb to lovers (reader is a Pink), unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all) ― word count : 3.633

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

🕺 GREASE! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris part one | part two // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix // Jeongin

«You know he’s gonna win, right?» Minho gently nudged his shoulder against yours, offering you a gentle smile as your eyes met. You nodded, slowly adverting your gaze from his and quickly waved at Changbin, which winked at you with a confident smile before getting in his car: a white and flashing convertible Ford Deluxe with “SpearB” written on its side, a car which you were very familiar with.

You knew about his and his friends’ habit to spend their Sundays at the Thunder Road to do illegal races long before you became a Pink – Changbin’s only and exclusive Pink to be precise, but since the two of you started going out, you slowly saw these races in a completely new, different way.

Before being a Pink, you would spend your Sundays afternoon at the Frosty Palace along with your friends, talking about how idiots Stray Kids – and the other groups, were to do illegal races, all of them completely aware about the fact that the police knew about this.

Now, you would spend your Sundays along with Stray Kids at the Thunder Road, Changbin’s leather jacket draped over your shoulders - and over your short dress, your eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Changbin would always win, no matter who challenged him. His car was fast – the boys would spend so much time taking care of their cars it was insane, and yet, your growing feelings for him prevented you from neutrally seeing things like Hyunjin, Minho or the others did.

«They’re gonna do the race for Pinks» Chris’ voice said, joining you and Minho on the sultry asphalt of the long, straight road where the cars would have raced. «If Changbin wins, he’s going to win his opponent’s car. Seungmin is gonna take it back to the garage-»

«Why can’t I?» you mumbled, shortly tearing your gaze away from Changbin’s nape. Chris’ smirk grew wider as soon as you cut him off.

«Because,» he chanted, «He said he has plans for the two of you.» he shortly draped his arm around your shoulders, a friendly habit he had, which you didn’t mind. Between all of them, you got along the most with Chris – probably due to him being the only one knowing you were completely smitten with his friend.

Your attention was drawn to the loud roar of the car engines, and as soon as the race started, you leaned on Chris, your eyes never leaving Changbin’s speeding car.

«Yeah, his plans are gonna be eat some cheeseburger and then go to his house to smoke a joint and have sex.» you mumbled, and he threw his head back as he laughed.

«It’s not like I ever heard you complain.» Chris shrugged, affectionately kissing your hair.

“I never had any reason to complain.” you thought. Changbin was great, regardless of which side of your “relationship” you analysed: sex was great, you could not blame it, he was rough enough to make you feel like he had just fucked your brain out but he was also – unexpectedly, the sweetest boy you have ever met. You never thought Changbin was the type to like aftercare but much to your surprise, he never once asked you to leave. Instead, as soon as the both of you came, he would hug your frame close to his body, cuddling together and humming to some unknown and random songs he liked to sing with Chris and Jisung while they were working on their cars. Sometimes, he would ask you to eat something together but still, you would spend the majority of your days together.

Even when you were hanging out with the others, Changbin always found a way to have you sitting on his lap, his strong arms securely snaking around your waist and his hands caressing your thighs or delicately brushing your hair away from your face. Changbin was not afraid to show you any and every side of him, and you could not be surprised when you finally realized that you had fallen for him. In addition, you could not exactly say you have been very subtle about your crush.

Between Stray Kids, Chan had been the first – and only one, to notice. Few months earlier, you sat at their table and spat a very unfriendly «Who the fuck is that», as your eyes fixed on the girl talking to a very pissed of Changbin and trying to hold his hand and she spoke. Chris immediately glanced at you with a knowing smile, a cheshire grin spreading around the red plastic straw of his strawberry milkshake.

«She wants to be his Pink.» he shrugged, nonchalantly, eyeing your every move as you changed seat in order to face Chris, turning your shoulders to Changbin and the girl. «I don’t know why girls even bother, tho. Changbin already made it pretty clear that the only Pink Lady he wants is you.»

Since then, you and Chris became even closer, he’d listen to you complain about your stupid crush, as you called it, and told you that with Changbin there’s more than meets the eye.

This was the main problem: it was obvious that you had a crush on Changbin but in return, he never said anything about it. Minho and Jeongin cheered loudly, followed by the others, and you snapped out of your thoughts.

The race was over, and Changbin was the winner; all of you started walking to the end of the Thunder Road to congratulate with him.

«I don’t know, love. To me it’s pretty obvious your stupid crush is totally reciprocated.» Chris sighed, and you furrowed your brows, his arm still draped around your shoulders. «Let’s go congratulate your boyfriend.» he chanted, again.

As it happened after every race, Changbin draw you closer, pulling you to his body using his leather jacket still framing your body to meet your lips in a long, passionate kiss, which punctually ended due to the wolf whistles of the others.

«You’re my lucky charm.» he’d whisper on your lips every time, only for you to hear, and you would smile, butterflies in your stomach and a faint blush spreading on your lips.

Exactly as Chris told you earlier, you said your goodbyes. Seungmin quickly hopped on the opponent’s car along with Jisung and the others left towards the Frosty Palace, waiting for them, in order to celebrate Changbin’s win.

«They’re going to celebrate your victory without you?» you giggled, sitting on the passenger’s seat of his car and Changbin tapped the wheel with both his index fingers, an embarrassed smile on his face.

«Yeah, well… It’s almost dinner time, I want to take you somewhere first,» he sighed, re-starting the car. «Before joining the others, I mean.» he quickly added, and you nodded at him.

While driving, Changbin had one habit you absolutely loved; his hand would either rest on your thigh or gently drum his fingertips along with the rhythm of the songs played by the radio. Occasionally, he would ask for a kiss anytime the traffic light showed the red light.

The ride was quiet; you hummed to songs together and you playfully complained about your hair being dishevelled due to the wind and Changbin simply laughed at you, reaching out to playfully ruffle it. You did not pay attention to the road until he started taking random turns and getting further away from the crowded city; his car made its way on dirt roads, going higher and higher, until you reached what it seemed to be the top of a small hill. The silence that reigned there was in contrast to the noisy town you were used to live and it was pleasant, relaxing.

«What about this place, Binnie?» you quietly asked, the both of you unbuckling your safety belts. You shifted a bit, turning your body towards him. Changbin took a deep breath, and you took advantage of his silence to gently trace your fingertips on his muscular thigh.

«It’s almost sunset,» he briefly explained. «I thought we could watch it together.» he hesitantly looked at you, and you both got out of the car. You walked towards the hood of the car trying to ignore the butterflies dancing in your stomach and your heart picking up its pace.

Well, indeed, it was a romantic spot to watch the sunset together but why did Changbin take you there? You were not a couple. Changbin sat on the hood of the car, spreading his legs so that you could face the sunset while also leaning on the hood of his car, his hands snaking around your waist and his chin resting on your left shoulder. You relaxed in his arms, surrounded by his scent. You were already wearing his jacket, leaving him in a white, tight t-shirt. You shortly wondered about him being cold, but he interrupted your thoughts.

«I talked to Chris.» Changbin mumbled, his voice dangerously close to your ear sending shivers down your spine. You petrified, as the sun started setting and painting different colours all around the two of you.

“That fucking traitor.” You thought, deciding that as soon as you would see Chris, you would have probably thrown that damn strawberry milkshake he always drank right on his face.

«It was a pretty enlightening conversation,» he quietly giggled, tightening his arms around you. He did not raise his tone of voice, instead he kept mumbling against your ear, almost afraid someone else would hear your conversation even thought there was probably no one within miles. «He made me realize that as much as I love you being my Pink Lady, I honestly…» he stopped in mid-sentence on purpose, pleased with your reactions of immediately turning around into his arms to face him with furrowed brows and worried eyes.

«Honestly?» you asked, mirroring his tone. Your heart was beating like crazy; you reached out to hold the hem of his black t-shirt, mentally preparing yourself to be officially refused.

«Honestly, I don’t need you to be my official Pink,» you felt your heart sank. «since I want you to be my girlfriend.» You stood there, dumbfounded. Changbin was looking at you with a sincere but teasing smile, and your head started spinning. You exhaled loudly, a frustrated groan hitting his strong chest a bit harsher than you originally planned.

«I swear, you’re unbelievable!» you whined, seeking refuge in his neck as you heard him laugh and tighten his arms around you. «Couldn’t you go with the “will you be my girlfriend?” like any other boy, instead of giving me an heart attack?»

«I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.» Changbin kissed your hair, that small gesture he did so often now holding a new, different meaning.

«What did Chris tell you, that I am smitten for you? That I was ready to throw hands to that girl asking you to be your Pink?» you mumbled against his shoulders, slowly leaning back as you didn’t receive any answer from him.

Changbin was staring at you with wide eyes, his expression clearly confused. His lips erupted into a smug smirk as soon as he read in your face that you realized to have said something you should not have. «Actually, he never said anything about you. But I’m pleased to hear these things.» he leaned in, lips hovering above yours.

«What did he say?» you mumble, honestly confused.

«“Changbin, for fuck’s sake, get your shit together before someone idiot snatches her away.”» he quoted, whispering against your lips before capturing them in a sweet, loving kiss. Your mouths moulded together, tongues languidly moving against each other. You tried to keep your hands to yourself; you tried to endure that sweet and marvellous first kiss as an official couple but, as soon as you felt Changbin sliding down of the hood of his car in order to reverse your positions, effortlessly picking you up in his arms and letting you sit on it instead, you couldn’t hold back the whine escaping your lips as Changbin pressed his body between your spreaded legs.

Your boyfriend nibbled at your lower lip, settling for kissing your neck as his hands travelled on your legs, caressing their way from your knees to the hem of your dress, as his lips marked your neck as much as the neckline of your dress allowed. Changbin’s kiss were passionate, loving and rough, just like his personality; he didn’t mind marking you up where anyone could see but also, in more private places only for you and him to know, and he didn’t mind being marked by you in return.

Your left hand flew on his bicep, loving how it tensed under your touch, and the other tangled itself in his brown hair, guiding his lips back on yours. You shared open-mouthed kisses and your left hand slid on his arm just to stop on top of Changbin’s hand still firmly holding your thigh, and guiding it under your skirt.

«Well well, kitten,» Changbin’s raspy voice mumbled against your lips, as his fingers traced the outline of your panties. «I guess being fucked in the back of my car wasn’t enough for you.» he added, sliding his thumb under the cotton fabric and coating his finger with your wetness, spreading it around your folds in circular motions. You panted against his lips, tightly gripping his hand as you felt another finger being added to the motion.

«It’s not enough.» you confirmed with a whine, a teasing smile on your bitten lips.

«Remember your words when later, the others will ask you why your legs keep shaking.» Changbin scoffed, and easily inserted two fingers in your wetness without further notice. You were glad that no one was around, so that you could be as loud as you wanted – even if you secretly loved his hand over your lips trying to muffle your loud moans.

Changbin momentarily detached from your lips to gently push you back, so that you were laying on the hood of his car, he quickly got rid of your panties, throwing them back in the car, and pulled up the dress you were wearing right around your waist. He inched down, his right hand on your waist to prevent you from moving, and the left one tightly wrapped around your right thigh - your left leg lazily draped on Changbin’s shoulder.

Both your hands flew to his hair as soon as you felt his hot breath and his lips connecting with your clit. He gave it few soft nibbles, teasing it with his teeth, and the only thing preventing you from arching into his face to get more friction, was his hand firmly pressed on your abdomen. You knew Changbin had a thing for biting but you could have never guessed that even his teeth on your clit would feel amazing. He teased you further, separating your folds with his tongue, alternating between keeping it flat or simply brush your wetness with the tip of his tongue. By habit, your hand flew on your mouth to muffle your increasing moans.

«You can be as loud as you want, Kitten.» he told you right before sucking on your clit again, the hand which was on your abdomen moved to briefly palm himself over his tight jeans. With a loud, needy whine, your hips moved towards his face, feeling already so close. You figured out that Changbin probably knew your body more than you did, since he moved away from between your legs, placing both his hands on the hood of his car, next to your waist, balancing his weight.

«I was close.» you whined, wriggling your lips as if he didn’t know already. Changbin chuckled, and you sighed, looking at him. His soft hair were a mess, his eyes were blown with lust and both his lips and his chin were glistening with your wetness. The sky behind him was still painted with the sunset colours, colours that reflected on his tan skin, making him appear like a masterpiece. You lift yourself enough to kiss him, closing your legs around his waist and tasting yourself all over his mouth and tongue, your breath itching in anticipation. Changbin used one hand to reach for his belt, while the other was tangled in your hair. You started palming him through his jeans, but he quickly stopped you, tightly holding your wrist.

«You can do that on our way back, kitten.» he explained, guiding you off the hood of the car and gently turning you around after affectionately pecking your lips. You leaned over the car as he unbuckled his belt and lowered both his jeans and his boxers round his ankles. You whimpered quietly to yourself, anticipation was driving you insane and you leaned over even further, balancing your weight on your elbows and spreading your legs, pushing your ass out a little more.

Changbin gently caressed your hips as he quickly pumped his length to full hardness, you head falling between your shoulders at the sensation of the tip of his length spreading your wet folds.

Unconsciously, you lift yourself on your tiptoes to accommodate him even deeper as he slowly bottomed out, filling you up with his length. You both moaned at the feeling, one of Changbin’s hands tightly held your waist, while the other was sprawled on the hood of his car, next to one of your elbows. Changbin’s head was on your shoulder blades, and you closed your eyes to picture him: his eyes closed tightly and his lower lip between his lips; you were now used to his body language, he always did it as he bottomed out, probably to prevent himself from immediately thrust into you.

Another thing you loved about Changbin, no matter how much time he had to wait, he would always wait for you to allow him to move.

«Go on Changbin, ruin me.» You held back a moan as you pushed yourself further on his length.

«Not until you say “please”.» He scoffed, his strained, raspy voice once again dangerously close to your ear. You purposely clenched around him, earning both his short nails digging into the skin of your waist and a choked moan. However, you understood quickly that he really was not going to move unless you said the magic world.

«Please, Changbin-» if you had to be honest with yourself, you were ready to beg him further – as you often did, but he didn’t want to waste any further time, and moved his hips in a slow, tentative thrust. Your hand reached over his on the hood of the car, intertwining your fingers as his thrusts grew in speed and intensity. Your wetness were probably dripping on the grass below you, due to how aroused you were. Changbin’s large dick was hitting in all the right places, that familiar sensation in your abdomen quickly coming back. Changbin’s hoarse and husky groans mixed with your louder ones, as he chased both your orgasms. His pace slowed down, the hand around your hip lowered behind your thigh only to lift it against the front of his car, making the feeling of his length sliding in and out of you even more intense due to the new angle. Your knee was tightly and slight painfully pressed against the front of his car, you would probably have marks later on but you enjoyed it way too much to complain.

Changbin was restlessly thrusting into you with both his hands pressing on the hood of the car, and you somehow managed to move just enough to meet his hard thrusts. His hips stuttered, before stilling inside you as his orgasm triggered yours. Changbin moaned your name with a raspy voice as he spilled his loads into you and in return, you almost screamed his as you clenched impossibly tight around him.

You both stood there, panting together, Changbin’s head once again falling on your shoulder blades as you both evened out your breathing. He carefully slid out of you, and gently lowered your dress back down. You heard him re-dress himself and buckle his belt but you were still too lost in bliss to function or to actually stand back up. Changbin was right, your legs were trembling but honestly, it always happened. Having sex with him was pretty intense, only thinking about his strong body manoeuvring yours so easily made another rush of heat flow towards your belly.

«Hey, kitten, look at me.» his still raspy voice gently called out, his tone sweet and caring as he turned you around under the – now, dark evening sky. You hummed, a wide smile on your lips mirroring his as he hugged you once again, kissing the side of your head. «I’m so in love with you, you have no idea.» you heard him mumble.

You blushed, your heart swelling and picking up pace. «I could say the same, Binnie.» You kissed again, slowly, savouring each other lips, before you actually decided to join the others at the Frosty Palace. Changbin laughed at you as you struggled finding your panties in the backseat of his car.

«Why did you throw them in the first place?» you whined, laughing.

«Why do you have to wear them again if you’re going to sleep at my place?» he shrugged, starting the engine as soon as you buckled your seat belt giving him a thumbs up, whispering a quiet «Found them!» His hand found your thigh again, and you instantly intertwined your fingers together.

“That fucking Aussie.” You thought, a wide smile on your lips, deciding that as soon as you would see Chris, you would have offered him one of those damn strawberry milkshake he always drank, for at least one month.

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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hh0320 · 2 years

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YOU BELONG TO ME, BABY.

— lonely star, part one of the trilogy series. pairing. street racer! chris x fem! reader. (+ hyunjin, minho) genre. past lovers, angst, heartbreak, hurt/comfort, stripper!(y/n), interlocked stories. warnings. profanity, jealousy, smut, public sex, unprotected intercourse, alcohol abuse, mentioned violence, name calling, blowjob, rage fuck. tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @hyuneater, @lix-ables, @byskzfilms, @danyxthirstae01, @enluc, @skz317cb97. word count. 7.5k

OCT. 2019 — SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA.

Very early in your life it was too late.

You stare at the text message, watercolor tears blurring your vision. The stranger’s hands are numb, her legs heavy.

She needs to go. Away—from him. She loves him very much, but there has to be life after him. She loves him very much, but God, it is unbearable, it is all consuming, it is a coffin six feet down, buried alive, hands never again to touch his.

If it’s not happening to you, you think you can get through with it. It is not your hands, it is hers; it is not your heart bleeding, it’s someone else’s, the stranger’s. The one that’s never met Chris. The one that will board the plane, the one that will survive, live on, away away away—

You look at the words on the screen, and there’s heavy rain, thunderstorm warning—your phone is wet. The watercolor bled, Hyunjin would be mad.

02:38AM chris— you’re the only good thing in my life.

02:41AM chris— if you go i’m dead.

03:02AM chris— YOU ARE BREAKING MY FUCKING HEART ANGEL. REPLY TO ME.

Very early in your life it was too late.

You will your body to move.

JAN. 2022 — SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA.

Chris was drunk.

It had been a long inebriation, settled deep between his bones, holding him there, over the edge. It had a name, but Chris refused to give into it just yet. Soon, but not yet.

There was a rage in him. It’d built a house in his rib cage, and there’d been no stopping it from growing. And it was growing; had been growing for a while—eight hundred and fifty two days, to be exact.

Chris had counted every.single.one of them.

Sitting on top of his black 2015 Chevrolet Camaro, he threw another empty bottle of beer on the dull pavement, with all the little fucking cracks, and bumps, and mistakes—

Yes, there was rage, and it was sizzling white, blinding him. There was rage, because there was grief. And God knows you’re not coming back, so anger is all he has now.

The bottle smashed, as the engines roared. Jisung was getting ready for another race. It hadn’t been but a couple hours since they got there, and they’d already made more than three thousand dollars. Chris had won the first round, and drank himself oblivious after that.

To celebrate, was tonight’s excuse.

If he closed his eyes, he could picture you. Beautiful, astute, waiting, hand extended for him to grab. There—always there with his eyes closed.

Nowhere to be found when he opened them.

“Hey, Bang!”

Chris barely turned to the sound of his surname. The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He took another swing of his new beer, watching as Yeji brought the scarf down, indicating for the racers to start. Jisung’s Nissan growled and he was gone, people cheering all around. Chris followed the cars with his eyes, up until the Devil’s turn and then tilted his head up at the night sky, leaning back on the hood.

“Bang!” The voice was closer, now. Seo Changbin.

“What the fuck do you want?” Chris replied, indifferently, not even bothering to address him.

“Race me. I’ll give you a thousand.”

“Fuck no.”

Changbin groaned, but didn’t give up.

“Upfront.”

Chris peeked at him at that, studying his face. His excited expression betrayed naivety, and Chris wasn’t in the mood to steal money from a rookie. Not only that, but Changbin’s car wasn’t anywhere near race ready, and well, that would probably be classified cheating, wouldn’t it?

“Hard pass, Seo,” he said, and stuck his hand out. Changbin clapped it, obviously disappointed. “But hey, I’ll come help you replace that stock down pipe. Saturday, yeah?”

The man nodded, smile back on his face. “Fuck yeah, bro! Take care of yourself, no? You look like shit.”

Chris chuckled, gaze back to the stars. “Fuck off, Changbin.”

“Say less.”

Changbin had been a high school friend, but after graduation the two drifted apart, Chris sticking with Jisung and Hyunjin, while Bin went off to university and joined a fraternity. Their love for cars remained, and even now, they would sometimes get together and work on Changbin’s Supra, but it would never be like before.

Something broke between them, and it could never be fixed. Maybe it was after he met you.

His murderer—cold case.

Chris chugged the beer, getting off his car. He needed to go for a drive, before he started a fight again. No one could call the cops on a street race, and he was sure—if he started, there was no stopping.

He threw the empty bottle harder this time, getting in. Turning the key, the engine roared—Chris pressed on the gas, car still in park. People close to him turned their heads, admired the smoothness of the sound, the sleek black of the exterior.

Chris ignored their stares, focused on his killing.

The glass smashed, shattering into a million, tiny fucking pieces. He smiled, bitterly.

So, that’s how it looked. His heart.

FEB. 2022 — SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA.

Hyunjin was reading Henry Miller, waiting at Arrivals, gate A2.

A regret was in process, but he swallowed it entire. You had asked, you had no one else. A favor to you—his sweet, precious friend—it couldn’t be wrong. And it wouldn’t be.

At last, you appeared. A myth taking shape; all these years passed, they all thought they dreamt you up. Had she ever been real, Chris had wondered one particular night, crying over a bottle of liquor, always Lark, always whiskey; Chris never drank before you, not the hard stuff. But frequenting at your bar had changed him, watching you dance in front of tens of men, undressing for their eyes—it cracked him. Fucked with his head.

‘Only but a shadow lifted,’ Hyunjin had replied.

‘A dream, then,’ he’d mourned. ‘A dream.’

Now, you were back, corporeal, and there were no words. When your eyes met, your own were glossy, sad with longing.

Hyunjin closed his book, and smiled softly at your figure, slowing down, taking him in. He opened his arms, overcome with relief.

No more of this knife turning, this terrible fucking horror of watching his best friend kill himself bit by bit. The angel had arrived, to breathe life back into him, to stop the torturing pain, the never ending punishment.

What were you, if not part of the Bible, returning to save them all. A salvation.

“Welcome back, sweetheart.”

You nuzzled into him, tears running hot, staining. Your arms squeezed tighter around his torso, missing the clean scent, the softness of his clothes.

Hyunjin had been like a brother to you, in a time where you had no one. He’d been patient, and kind, offering up his life, expecting nothing in return. He gave you Jisung, and eventually Chris, and the three of them filled you up in ways you’ve never before known possible.

You were back at the scene of the crime. Why? Because love is an anchor that settles over home, it is a resurrection, an open door that you leave, a candle that you light—

Because, despite you leaving, you never truly went anywhere if he was here all along. Love unmoving, terrifyingly still.

The both of you walked to Hyunjin’s car, your hand in his. He opened the passenger door for you to get in.

“You know you could’ve stayed with me,” he said, pulling out of the parking spot.

It was already evening in Sydney, the sky in flames. You had missed your city; Perth was wonderful, open, the people friendly enough, but Sydney is your soul. There was something about growing up there, being familiar with the streets, your friends…your club.

You’d missed dancing. You’d sworn off it the minute you decided to leave—Perth had been a standstill, a necessary pause from the rest of your life, completely separate. There you were the girl from before, naive and innocent, a stranger that had no memories, no recollection of fast cars, stripping, money, so fucking much of it—him.

Was it wrong of you to miss eating your own heart? Perth had been nice, it had been lovely, but it wasn’t real. It didn’t exist. The you that tried to escape—she’d failed, and now she was back. Starting from zero.

“No, Hyun. I have to do this on my own this time.”

He glanced at you, red light bringing him to a stop. “Who’s going to give you rides to the bar? Make sure you’re eating?”

You sighed, taking his hand, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on his palm.

“I was by myself for two years. Alone—do you know what it means, Hyunjin?”

Your friend didn’t look convinced, but humored you anyway. “I understand very well, (Y/N). It was a choice we all had to live with, whether we liked it or not.”

His words hurt you. You had no right to play victim when you had up and left, abandoning the only people in your life that loved you unconditionally. Hyunjin had been your roommate for four years, and you hadn’t even bothered to leave a note on your way out.

He had to come home and find half of your clothes gone, your toothbrush missing. He had to wait six hours before his calls could go through, his messages delivered. And then he had to wait two months before you showed him any signs of your being alive.

So yes, Hyunjin knew aloneness. He felt it everyday seeing your furniture intact, still in his guest room, he felt it every time he visited his friend, every time he had to carry him out his car, make sure he wasn’t dead. Every time Chris would hide his face, asking him to leave, embarrassed, devastated.

Being alone felt a lot like a girl boarding a plane and ruining a perfectly fine man.

“I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you irrevocably, and you should never forgive me,” you choked out, tears burning unshed. “But Hyunjin, if nothing else, please know I love you with everything in me.”

He nodded to that, swallowing hard, both hands on the wheel, knuckles white from his deathly grip on it.

“He still goes,” he revealed in a voice barely above a whisper. “To Lonely Star. He looks for you.”

You sobbed, then. Silently, hand over mouth, gaze locked out the window, buildings passing you by, the last bits of sun scorching your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, and let it all spill out over the dashboard—emotions bouncing on the windshield, no escape for them now.

Now you had to deal with them. No more running away, no more pretending they weren’t there.

If running, why not go towards the things you love?

Hyunjin’s own eyes were wet, too. A regret was in process, and this time he’d let it take over. Because he felt it, the love annihilating, the time destroying. The heart that won’t do the beating, the words that won’t speak.

He hoped for this. If you were regretting, that means it’d hurt you just as much as it had them. So then, the hurting would’ve been for something.

“Will you tell him?” You asked, trying to will your tears to stop.

But your body will betray you, and your will won’t save you. You did this, it whispered, echoing inside of you. You caused it. Deal with it. Set it right.

“No. It’s not my place anymore,” he replied. “Either way, he’s been hanging out with Jisung lately. They’ve been racing a lot, making good money.”

What was racing to Chris Bang—an extension of him. Like an arm, or a lung, vital for his existence. You used to think he could survive without the adrenaline; the gas pedal, the stick shift, his tire grazed streets. All these things were fun, but they weren’t necessary, you’d thought. And it was true—to an extent, you could live without your arm, or one of your lungs, or your leg—but it wouldn’t ever be quite the same again, would it? It’d always feel like something’s missing.

Only then had you understood the nature of him. He breathed cars, he thrived off the thrill of a good race. He was incomplete without those things.

‘You think you have limits, yeah? Until you get out there, and you try this limit, and you think ‘okay, this is it, I can only go this far.’ But then you press down a little bit more…suddenly you’re limitless. A line that has no fucking end.’

God, how you missed him. The sound of his voice, the sight of him. The way he used to fuck you into the steering wheel, those arms that you remember so vividly holding you tight against him while you pieced yourself back together.

His patience with you. His autumn eyes, the way you fell and kept falling in them. This man had been carved of the same soul as you, you felt him entirely your own.

Which is why you let him go. It had gone too far, you had to pull the trigger first. God knows he could never hurt you.

“And you?” You asked, taking a good look at your friend. His hair was longer, covering the nape of his neck, dyed midnight black. His features carved, beautiful as always.

“Renowned artist, Hwang Hyunjin, at your service. I have a gallery now,” he smirked, sensing your need to change the subject.

You were nearing your destination—your new home.

“Of course you do. I saw all about it,” you smiled proudly at him. “You really deserve it, Hyun. You were born to paint.”

At that, he snorted, getting shy. “Perhaps.”

You tried not to think about yourself. What were you doing with your life again? Taking your clothes off for fast money. And yet you couldn’t seem to feel sorry for yourself—this world doesn’t spin the same for everyone.

Money was money, at the end of the day. Lonely Star always provided.

The club was drenched in blue light.

A solid crowd, all eagerly awaiting your first show back. A dark stage, and a spinning pole; low, hypnotizing music, bass heavy. It was all calling to you.

The owner sat at the bar, scanning the scene. You had been his favorite dancer, his most popular employee. When you left, you’d taken a lot of money with you. There was no way he’d lose you again. Not with a full house like this.

Chris got out of his car, locking it behind him. It was after hours, and the Lonely Star seemed an oasis amidst the driest desert for him. He’d gotten a call from Minho to pass by.

‘It’ll be worth your while,’ he’d promised. Something in his voice had convinced Chris to go.

Maybe it was instinct, his gut leading him. Maybe it’d been you, and your red string of fucking fate.

Because nothing was worthwhile for Lee Minho and his club, unless you were there.

God his witness, if he passed through those doors and saw you on that stage, he’d fucking lose it.

How long had you been hiding from him? Who knew and hadn’t told him? He was seething, jaw locking and unlocking, fingers fidgeting with the keys in his hand, trying very hard not to punch the first thing he saw.

Oh, he’d burn the fucking place to the ground. Take you with him and fuck you senseless, drill you to his fucking bed frame so you could never fucking run again.

The neon blue light encased him whole, invading his eyes. The bass of the music bounced in his chest, as he headed straight for the bar.

The stage was empty still, but it looked set up, like someone was about to perform.

“Whiskey. Straight,” he said to the bartender, clapping Minho’s back.

The man in question turned around, a cryptic look on his face. “How’ve you been, Chris?”

Chris scoffed, a quick thank you for the drink, before he kicked it back. The burn in his throat was nothing compared to what he felt throughout his entire body.

Every hair on him was on full alert. The idea of you being backstage, getting ready in one of your ridiculous little outfits that covered nothing but your cunt—two and a half years.

Two and a half fucking years and the first person that got to see you naked was Lee goddamn Minho. Did you really hate him that much?

Had he not given you every fiber of his being?

“Another one,” he ordered, hands clenched into fists on top of the counter.

Chris hang his head, gritting his teeth. All this time, he was dying a thousand deaths, every day, for you to just—

“You’d be wise to calm down,” Minho advised, calmly.

“You’d be wise to shut the fuck up,” he snapped, glaring at the grey haired man. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

Chris’ hand came down on the counter. The sound got drowned by the music, but the bartender jumped nonetheless, eyes wide staring at him.

The second drink was gone as soon as it came.

“You’ve been hiding her from me,” he growled, getting in Minho’s face.

The man remained unfazed. When drunk, Chris would usually get like this. If he wasn’t his friend, Minho would’ve thrown him out countless times.

He supposed there was good enough reason for his behavior today, and he couldn’t fault him. You and Chris had a tumultuous affair—something very intense, and dark, that Minho couldn’t quite understand.

When you left, everything crumpled. Entirely.

“Not exactly,” he said. “But in a sense. She’s staying at one of my apartments.”

Chris furrowed his eyebrows, swallowing needles. His mouth was dry. Pain shot through his chest. So it was true—you really were back.

Only feet away from him.

“You don’t deserve her. I can take care of her now. I swear, Lee, if you touch a hair on her goddamn head—” he fumed, grabbing him by the shirt.

Minho looked down at his now wrinkled shirt, smirking. “You do know I own this place, right? There’s people way bigger than you that don’t like you very much right now.”

Chris chuckled darkly, bringing him closer. “You think I give a fuck about your fucking bodyguards?” he spat.

“You will, if you don’t let go of me.”

The two men measured each other in the swimming lights, before Chris caved, taking a deep breath, and moving away from him.

He drank that third glass slowly, his anger barely contained. It was there, though, waiting, lurking to be set free. Chris would not find peace until he exploded.

“I am not interested in your girl. Business wise, yeah, she’s the best I got. I’m planning on keeping her around for a long time. But that’s it.”

The song changed to something sultry, with heavier bass. Lights dimming, whispers erupted through the crowd. Minho smiled, turning his attention to the stage.

Chris had never looked away.

And it would always be like the first time he ever saw you; walking out from behind the curtains, your hips swaying seductively, you grabbed onto the pole, twirling slowly. Everyone seemed to be hanging from your next move, leaning closer, holding their breath.

You were a vision. A dream his mind conjured up, stained in pretty pinks and blues, the lace on your body made of the finest nightmare—he’d finally gone mad. It couldn’t be you, real, there, right there, so close he could touch you?

Surely not. Surely you wouldn’t mercy him so generously.

Nothing else mattered. You, up on that stage, spinning like a fucking goddess on that pole, your smooth skin sparkling, your angelic, beautiful face—his fucking hell on earth.

He moved towards you in a trance, his love and hate for you having a bar fight. You had made it so incredibly clear—he was not worthy of you, did not deserve you. You left him for dead, and disappeared for what felt like an unbearable eternity.

Now you’re in front of him, his cruel, beautiful girl, a graceful ballerina upside down on that pole, doing the splits, and all he can think about is—you don’t give a shit about him.

You never fucking did. He loved you, loves you, so entirely, would give his soul, whatever there was left, sacrifice himself to the fucking Devil if it meant you’d be his again, and you just—

Felt nothing. You punished him like this?

Oh, he’d show you pain. He’d make it hurt so good.

Chris stood right under your feet. He could hear the other men around him curse at him, call out for him to get out the way, but he dared them to do something about it. He had to make you see—he was there, he knew.

Your eyes recognized him as you fell to your knees, discarding your top. He stared you down, his eyes glistening, his face set, hard lines around his mouth. His luscious, full mouth.

Chris. Real, mad at you. Clad in black jeans and a white shirt, hair styled away from his sharp face. Your heart, looking at you like a stranger.

A gasp escaped your lips, frozen in place. ‘He still goes. He looks for you,’ Hyunjin’s voice echoed in your head.

Bills flying all around you, life played out in slow motion as you saw the stack of money on his hands. You blinked at it, tears stuck to your eyelids.

“Dance,” he demanded, squinting down at you. “That’s how you get these, right?” He shook the bills at you, his hands shaking for another reason entirely.

You saw it, the hate in his eyes. From his perspective, you were a terrible woman, a woman that played him like a fool, and disappeared on him afterwards, once the fun was over. He was dirt poor back then, had nothing to offer. Why would you entertain a loser like him, right?

He couldn’t be further from the truth. But there was no way to show him. And you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You had no control of your body.

To disappear. To disappear completely.

You looked for Minho, who was sitting at the bar, watching the scene play out. You looked a lot like a fallen angel, to him. He was interested to see the ending of this.

He lifted a hand to his bodyguard. Stay put.

The lights were blinding you, there was nothing beyond the man standing in front of you. In your chest, panic. There was no way you could do this. No way in Hell.

“I said fucking dance,” he leaned down to grab your chin, roughly. “That’s all you’re good for, yeah?”

What it took for you to not curl into yourself, then. He had hurt you with your biggest insecurity. You couldn’t escape the club, knowing your dancing always brought you a lot of money. He knew this—he used it against you.

“Don’t look at me like I’ve hurt you,” he said, close to your mouth, gaze scorching.

“What the fuck, man! You’re not supposed to touch the girl,” one of the customers said, getting up from his seat.

More retaliated, but got drowned out by the music. Chris turned around, a deadly calmness settling over him.

“That’s my fucking girl. I can do whatever the fuck I want with her.”

You used his anger as fuel to get up from the ground, and grab the pole once again. Falling into it, you used your momentum to jump and latch your legs around the cool silver, twirling while extending your arms, your hips moving slowly to the beat of the music you’d chosen for the night.

He wanted a show, you’d give him one. For old times sake.

Letting your head fall back, you saw his face change, pain morphing back into unadulterated anger, as he started throwing dollar bills your way.

You closed your eyes, tears finally escaping you, as you came all the way down, knees hitting the floor. You were disgusted with yourself, with the way his money fell on you, so you escaped to the top of the pole, your entire body hurting.

Most of all your own soul. A betrayal. He’d thought you betrayed him, all this time. And wasn’t he right to assume?

But it wasn’t the truth. And would he listen to you now? Did you deserve his time, after everything?

Chris had seen enough. He was fucking done. He dumped the rest of the money on you, watching it lick all over your skin, your back on the stage floor, your hand running over the crevice of your breast.

He was sick to his stomach with want, his own hands aching with yearning. His cock had never stopped getting rock hard just with the thought of you, but having you naked under him like this, and not being able to hide inside you was pure fucking torture.

He’d rather the poison. He’d rather the clean kill.

He turned to walk away, when fingers closed around his own, the touch faint, but there. Enough to stop him dead on his tracks.

Chris looked at your panicked face. He furrowed his brows at you, and shook your touch off. You were playing tricks, fucking with his head.

You wanted nothing to do with him. One thing he never gave you, he showered you with whole. And there was so much more where that had come from—Chris was fucking drowning in money. He had so much of it, he didn’t know what the fuck to do.

Four thousand was on the floor behind you. All hundreds. And yet you didn’t seem to care about it at all, instead trying to grab onto him again. This time it was his shirt.

He wished for death, then, truly, genuinely. What were you doing with him? Had you no mercy? Couldn’t you see you had him on his knees, gun to his mouth?

Let me die. Let me die, now, as she’s holding on to me. This will never happen again.

“Please,” he heard you say. Those weren’t crystals on your cheeks, they were tears.

You, crying for him. What fresh Hell, what godforsaken dream was this—

“Chris.” His name on your lips.

Oh, fuck him straight to the depths of the darkest fucking pit. Bury him alive. He wasn’t wasting this. If it hurt him again, so be it.

You were calling out his name. He was drunk, but that had been real. As real as his heart bursting into flames, a forest fire spreading to the rest of his organs, tearing him down from the inside.

“Curse the fucking pull you have on me—”

He took his shirt off, covering you up, and slid his hands under you, picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his torso, arms circling around his neck.

Home. Home, at long last. You sobbed from joy, as he walked both of you out of the club, everything else becoming static noise, background music.

There would never be anything more important than having you in his arms. You completed him in every possible way. He loved you in death, would follow you hands tied, eyes blind.

There will never be anyone else for him. Never.

You didn’t make it far. His lips had devoured yours as soon as the doors had closed behind you. Taking a turn into the club’s alleyway, he slammed you against the wall, his hands protecting your back, grazing against the rough wall—he breathed you in, lips never once leaving your mouth.

Your naked chests touching, your nails scratched over his toned arms, fingers wrapping around the nape of his neck. He’d filled in so deliciously, though his face had been full of edges.

You never wanted to stop kissing him. You wanted him to take you right there, fuck you raw. No one could possibly understand—this need inside you, it was raging against your very skin.

You needed him to fuck you. Needed him inside you to put out, to silence, to release. Please, please, please—

“Use me, baby. Take it,” he whispered fiercely against your mouth, staring deep in your eyes. “Whatever you need.”

You grabbed ahold of his wide shoulders, just as his fingers moved the thin material of your lingerie. He cupped your cunt, and you moved against him, lips falling open, a moan escaping you.

“Goddamnit, (Y/N). You’re killing me,” his fingers slipped inside you, taking, annihilating.

His touch, blazing against your cold skin, resurrecting you from the grave, goosebumps rising all over. This is how it felt, your body told him. This is what I feel for you, this is how I react to your touch alone—hide inside me. Come home now.

He was relentless, fucking into you with his digits, mouth attacking your mouth, your neck, your ears—his breath was hot, panting. You dug your nails on his shoulders, screams weak and raspy.

Then he stopped. “Open your mouth for me,” he ordered, sticking his fingers in, swirling them around.

You licked them, sucked them dry, tasting yourself on him. He watched you with hungry eyes, trapped against him, naked for him. You had returned—to him. He was going to ruin you until there was nothing left.

Until all you knew was him. He was fucking obsessed with your body, furious you’d refused him yourself for this long.

“My good fucking girl,” he removed his fingers with a ‘pop’, your hands already unbuttoning his jeans, getting lost under the waistband of his underwear.

You rubbed him a couple times, but it just wasn’t enough. You needed him in your mouth, you needed— fuck, all you really needed—

“Let me down,” you said, unwrapping your legs from him. He let you, dazed, and you quickly got on your knees.

When you took him in your mouth, both of you groaned simultaneously, overwhelmed. Chris put one arm against the wall, holding himself up, eyes watching his cock disappear between your lips. Heaven—pure fucking bliss to be like this with you.

“My girl. Mine, mine, mine,” he repeated, over and over, like a mantra. “Made for me.”

It felt a lot like racing, you blowing him. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, heart bursting. His two favorite things. Nothing else mattered, nothing else could fucking compare.

He bucked his hips, his other hand grabbing ahold of your head, his stomach muscles flexing. You felt fucking incredible. He wanted to go on forever, but your tongue was working him loose, your palm rubbing him just right. He’d blow, and he didn’t wanna do in your mouth.

He wanted to get lost inside you.

He tapped on your mouth, releasing himself, pulling you up. “Get up, my beautiful girl. Let me feel you,” his breathing was labored, his eyes ablaze.

Hands on your ass, he picked you up again with no difficulty at all. You kissed him hard, and his hand got lost in your hair, bringing you closer. Moving your panties aside, you positioned his hard cock on your entrance, rocking against him, moaning, panting, tears running down your face, mixing with sweat.

He pressed his forehead against yours, shushing you. “I know, baby girl,” he mumbled, eyes closed.

Then he pushed. You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck. He slammed into you, bottoming out, and paused, taking a sharp breath. He was violently shaking; not because of exhaustion, but because he’d dreamt of this exact moment a million times, and every time he would wake up alone, realizing he was crying in his sleep.

That terrible half life away from you—and now you were there, and he was touching you, was inside you—his dream come true.

“Goddamn you for taking this away from me,” he choked out, visibly in pain, tears falling miserably from his beautiful, autumn eyes.

You wiped them away, your own still burning, and cried with him, as he fucked into you, slow in the beginning, getting used to you again, holding back in case you wanted to run again, giving you that time to obliterate him once and for all, but—after a point he was just too fucking gone.

There was no more holding back. He drilled you into the wall, all the while his knuckles raw and bloody against your back, his chest your chest, his breath your breath. He was fucking you like a starved man, arms enveloping you, mouth colonizing. Your voice was hoarse, your release near.

“Fuck me, fuck, Chris… God! Please, please, I need to, I need to, please,” you begged, scratching his back, drawing blood. He let you.

He let you have it all. His hands guided your hips on his cock, keeping you steady, allowing you your pace.

“I got you, angel. Fuck on me, baby.”

“Please, I’m so close,” you moaned, head falling back into brick.

He needn’t be told twice. He resumed pounding into you, taking your lips for his. His tongue fighting for dominance, open mouthed—he won. He would win every time, because he could have everything.

You didn’t care anymore. He could swallow you whole.

“Fuck,” he growled, death grip on your hips. “Baby girl, look at me.”

You did. You searched his eyes, nodding to yourself. It was too much, it was so much, he was so wonderful, so beautiful, ruined, sweaty, his smell, just his smell was enough, and you—

You came hard, all over his cock. As if he sensed it, he followed after you, walls painted white. He fisted your hair, pulling you into a sloppy, possessive kiss.

“No one will ever fuck you like I do,” he muttered, his lips dragging over your cheek. “No one will ever love you as much as I fucking do, baby.”

You breathed hard, coming down from your high, ashamed to look at him. He was suffocatingly close, promising you things that you didn’t deserve in the slightest.

“Look at me,” he whispered softly, his index finger guiding your face towards him.

You kept your gaze to his chest; his chiseled muscles, his strong arms, his swimmer shoulders, that thin chain around his neck glistening under the street lights, his big Adam’s apple, the way it bopped as he swallowed.

Chris put you down gently, zipping his pants up, and proceeding to pass his shirt over your head, hiding your breasts from view. You’d given enough of a show—the rest was for his eyes only.

“You’re regretting it,” he said, voice devoid of emotion.

“No,” you replied, sharply. “That’s not it. Chris, I’ve hurt you so much…” you trailed off.

“How can you still love me?” you asked, helplessly, hugging your arms.

He took a step forward, your back getting pressed against the wall once again. Both arms over your head, there was no one more beautiful, more enticing than him at that moment.

But you had been selfish. You’d taken and taken, and you’d dried him out. Back in the club, his image haunting you—he looked a dead man walking.

Absolutely devoid of life. And it had all been your fault.

“Because you’re mine,” he answered, tone deep, raspy. “I never stopped believing you’d come back to me.”

He grabbed your hand, put it over his heart. A sob wretched out of your throat, and you hang your head. He covered your fingers with his, squeezing.

“This goddamn thing—it’s only ever beat for you. There is nothing you can do to me now, that I haven’t already gone through, angel.”

You bit your lips, devastated, defeated. Here he was, offering himself up, to use and abuse him, and you were refusing him, again, because of your own weaknesses.

Oh, you didn’t deserve this man one bit. And yet, you’d be greedy, anyway.

One last time.

“Take me home, Chris.”

He sped through the empty streets, one hand on the steering wheel, the other over yours on the gearbox.

Looking at him now, handling his car so expertly, as easy as breathing to him, you wondered how many hours he’d dedicated to learning this vehicle so intimately.

Hyunjin told you he was racing more now. And all that money he’d thrown on you earlier…just how involved was he in illegal racing?

Before you left, he’d almost gotten arrested for it, and excessive speeding. He’d barely lost the cops, maneuvering through avenues and ending up on the highway, high on adrenaline, Jisung on speakerphone telling him how messed up he was.

Ever since you met him, Chris had been working on cars. Junk cars, cars that no one would give a second thought about. He took them in to his garage, and brought them back to life. That had been his job, when you two got together—he’d get scrap vehicles, make them race able, and sell them.

It didn’t pay much, but his eyes held so much passion doing it, that you could never bring yourself to mention anything to him. He was wasting himself, his talent. Regardless of what you thought, his knowledge and skills only got better because of that dead end job.

When he started racing himself—that’s when he realized his true calling. At first he sucked ass. But with trial and error, he studied the cars that beat him, their motors, and slowly started ordering the parts needed for the ultimate race car.

He bought his Camaro with Jisung’s help. Jisung had been a racer since before they’d graduated high school. He was one of the best in Sydney, but he also happened to be Chris’ best friend.

So with that extra push, Chris came to be what he was. Then you left, and everything else went to shit, except this. His car. The meet ups—his streets. It was the only thing that kept him from fucking shooting his brains out.

He was so focused, when driving. He loved going fast, it was evident in his face every time he stepped on the gas. You couldn’t help but admire him, the way he’d dedicated himself to this one thing, loved it so utterly.

You loved him. You loved him in a way that could raise the dead from their graves.

“Pull over,” you told him, as if waking up from a dream. “Please.”

He did, barely getting to pull the e-brake, before you straddled him. Chris adjusted under you, hands on your waist, gaze dark, watching your every move.

“Do you still hate me?” you asked, bracing your heart.

His eyes moved, trying to discern your expression, wishing he could read your thoughts. Your hips started grinding on his thighs, your mouth falling open.

“Yes,” he confessed, holding you in place, taken aback.

“Why?” You moved one of his hands underneath the fabric of your shirt, over your breast.

He growled, low, wanting to get in your head—what the fuck were you playing at? He was mad with desire.

“Because you can leave me.” His other hand went to your throat, squeezing, pushing your back against the steering wheel.

“Show me,” you whispered.

He attacked your neck, licking, biting, teeth grazing behind your ear. You wrapped around him like a vine, taking it all, your cunt getting wet just with the thought of him filling you up in his car, just like all those times before.

“Fuck me,” you moaned on his lips. “I need you.”

Your hands unzipped his jeans, pulling his fully erect cock out. You salivated at the sight of it, wanted to take him deep in your mouth. But you needed him inside you more, needed to feel him as part of you, to convince yourself that he was real, that everything would be okay now.

“Chris, please, please—”

“Shut up, be quiet.”

Chris lifted you by the waist, slamming you down on his dick, hissing as you clenched around him. Your eyes met, his cruel gaze dropping to your mouth, reaching and taking your bottom lip between his lips, biting down on it. You whined, fucking yourself on him, his hands guiding your pace.

“Goddamn you, (Y/N). Fuck,” he cursed, his head falling, resting against your sternum, forehead pressing on your collarbone.

And then he started pistoling into you. You screamed, death grip on his shoulders, as you felt the steering wheel dig into your lower back.

His hips moved incessantly, without rest, reaching into the deepest parts of you, taking, devouring, stealing. You could cry with the closeness of him. It was divine—your cunt was on fire, his cock pure gasoline.

“Fucking slut,” he growled in your ear, his mouth everywhere, his voice ricocheting on your skin. “You craved cock this much?”

“Yours,” you breathed, shaking. “Only yours.”

He laughed humorlessly, arms tightening around you, thrusting, killing you. “Yet she’s so willing to undress in front of other men.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, finding his eyes.

They were looking to wound. “Truth hurts, baby?” He asked, voice laced with poison.

You couldn’t breathe. His cock was ramming into you so hard, so fast, tears were stuck on your eyelids—it hurt. It hurt more because it was meant to.

“Tell me, baby girl,” he panted, bringing you flush against him, his hands moving your ass on him.

“I’m so close, oh my God—”

Your thighs were burning with exhaustion.

“Fucking tell me—don’t you dare fucking cum—has anyone else fucked this cunt?”

You scrunched your face, pain erupting in your chest, at the thought of this question replaying over and over inside his head. You’d ruined this beautiful shell of a man.

Now you had to glue him back together.

“Answer me, (Y/N)!” He seized moving, now shaking you violently. “You’re not cumming until you fucking tell me.”

“No! Fuck you, Chris, no, goddamnit.” You collapsed on him, overcome with grief. “Stop fucking acting like you were the only one hurting!”

He made no attempt to console you, his fingers still digging into your ribs. “Don’t you fucking dare turn this around—you chose to leave. I had no fucking choice.”

“Please…” you sobbed, brokenly. “I’m yours. No one’s touched me, Chris.”

His anger hit you in waves. You felt him physically restraining himself from doing anything too harsh, instead pushing you off of him, and onto the passenger seat, on your hands and knees.

You went to speak, before he slammed into you again. This time he was absolutely ruthless, searching only for one thing. Release.

His hand coming down on your ass, again and again, he fucked you hard until you came apart.

“You fucking whore, is this what you wanted? Atonement?”

You shook your head, unable to reply, unable to move. He loved you enough to let you finish, but he still didn’t trust you. You couldn’t blame him. You couldn’t blame him at all.

He pulled out of you roughly, leaving you naked and used. You’d asked for it; you’d been sure that’s what he’d needed. But you couldn’t help regretting ever asking for his honest feelings.

They burned holes through you.

You heard him fumbling with his jeans, and then the door slammed. Slowly turning to sit down, your back sore, you watched as he lit a cigarette, the way his body curved towards the lighter, how it hang from his full lips, as he rose his arms, put them on top of his head.

What a fucking man you loved. Shirtless, a God—if only you weren’t so toxic for each other. Oh, how your heart broke, watching him in conflict with his own self.

But that’s why you’d come back every time, for the rest of time. Because it’s him, because it’s you—together. Because this feeling is intoxicating.

You knew you shouldn’t—you got out.

He pierced you with black eyes. “Get the fuck back in the car.”

You didn’t dare move towards him. “We should break up.”

Chris looked at you bewildered. He huffed out a laugh, hitting his head with his hands, furious, drunk, out of it. What else? What fucking else?

“(Y/N), God my fucking witness, get back in the goddamn car, before I fucking do something I regret.”

“Chris, look at you,” you said, softly, sad.

Cigarette between his fingers, you saw his heavy boots move towards you, now standing before you. His chest was falling and rising, his hair a mess.

Handsome. Handsome as ever. You met his enraged gaze.

“This is what you did to me!” He yelled at you. You flinched, taking a step back. He paused upon seeing your reaction, turning his head away, licking his lips, collecting himself. “Who I am, it’s because of you. So, no,” he chuckled humorlessly, “we’re not breaking up. You’re stuck with me, baby. You’re going nowhere,” he finished, voice dangerous, but gentle.

“Now get inside, before I kill some motherfuckers,” he glared at the cars beeping, catcalling you.

“You’re staying with me.”

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