Walking Dreams

You knew he was a shifter, he’d let you know that since the beginning - he just didn’t let you know what type of shifter he was; and, no, it wasn’t because he wanted to lie to you, far from it.

He was trying to protect you.

It was always speculation on what type of shifter he was amongst the fans, majority of them settling on a dog type of some sort - some even going so far as picking breeds - and they weren’t wrong in a sense, but they definitely weren’t in the right vein.

He was a wolf shifter; a werewolf for the sake of lesser words - an alpha to be exact, and though they weren’t the rarest of shifters, they weren’t regarded in the highest of honors when it came to the general media and in the same breath they were often fetishized to fit a specific stereotype.

Chris swore he would tell you when the time was right - he knew you were one of the biggest supporters when it came to all shifters - but his fear of your reaction always held him back; his fear of losing you over something he’d seen so many people before him get ridiculed for making the confession die on his tongue.

So, fate took matters in their own hands.

He knew something was wrong when he woke up with a start, an all too familiar heat blanketing his barely clothed body and coating him in a thin sheen of sweat, his senses dialed to ten as he took in the way the fan in the corner spread your scent around the bedroom; cinnamon and pound cake with an undercut of strawberries.

A low rumble vibrated through his chest, and he was close to chalking it up to a random heat spike until a flash of pain struck through his abdomen, a sharp hiss passing through clenched teeth as he tried his best not to wake you.

No… This wasn't- Could it?

Scooting his body away from the loose spooning position you both were in, he rolled onto his back and stretched his arm out in search of his phone on the nightstand. Feeling the sleek device against his fingers, he grabbed it and wasted no time in unlocking it with his fingerprint; squinting against the brightness in search for his calendar.

His worst fear was confirmed at the sight of a little red bubble highlighting the current day, the single letter ‘R’ reminding him of the one thing that managed to slip his mind among all the hustle and bustle of his life.

His rut was starting.

“Fuck… Fuck!” He whispered, eyes flicking to the time before turning off his phone and returning it back to its charging block.

He always had a plan when it came to his rut; he would stay at the dorm under the guise of saving time on transportation for early schedules, lock himself in his room, and do everything in his power to quell the almost insatiable urge to claim and breed - more specifically, claim and breed you.

However, his schedules lately have been drowning him to no end in work, recordings, practices, and preparing for their next comeback - always ending the day with him slugging his way through a shower and ultimately passing out in bed next to your already sleeping form.

There was no way he could justify a 1:43 AM trip to the dorms, if he had to stay at the dorms he’d be there straight from the JYP building, and if there were an emergency then he’d get a call that would wake both you and him.

Should he just risk it? Lie to you yet again and leave you in your shared bed alone?

His stomach turned at the thought, a displeased growl emanating from his throat.

“Channie?”

He could feel his heart - and dick - jump at the sound of your sleep laced voice, sharp eyes watching in the dark as you shuffled around to face him; even with a puffy face and barely open eyes, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

“‘S everything okay? The kids alright?”

His breath caught, mind running too wild for his own good - kids, you were so caring, so selfless, nurturing, he could give you his kids, he could give you his pups.

“Chris?” You blinked at him, confusion threading through your voice as you reached your hand out to touch him, “Are you-”

His hand shot out to grab you by the wrist, grip tightening in the smallest of ways as he kept you from coming any closer.

“Don’t.” He gritted, willing himself to ignore the feeling of your pulse beneath his fingertips - a slight jump, a hint of worry, a spike of fear spicing your scent. “I- I’m sorry, baby, but I - I need to leave.”

Lips drawn into a frown, your eyebrows creased softly, “You need to- why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, love-”

“Then why do you have to leave? Is it one of the boys?”

“No, they’re fine-”

“So what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

The broken sound in your voice was making his head spin, every instinct within him urging him to comfort you, to make you feel better - he could make you feel better, you could make him feel better.

“Christopher,” you started, sitting up enough to prop yourself up with your left hand, gazing down at him with soft eyes, “tell me what’s going on, baby, please, let me help you.”

Caring, understanding, open and willing, you’d shown him time and time again that you weren’t scared of them, you weren’t scared of him - so why did he keep telling himself to push you away? 

Why did he never realize that hiding from you was doing the exact opposite to what he was trying to do?

Blinking hard, he let go of your wrist in favor of pressing his hand to his face, the faint hint of strawberries simultaneously calming him and sending him into a mental spiral.

“I… I’m- It’s my rut, and I-” Dragging his hand across his face, he let it fall to the small space between the both of you, staring defeatedly at the ceiling above, “I don’t want to put that pressure onto you, I don’t trust myself to be around you.”

There was a beat of silence, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you, scared of what expression you could have been holding - that is, until he felt the bed shift and a familiar weight settle itself around his hips, just barely hovering above his lap.

His eyes snapped to yours, hands instinctively finding their home on your hips, hidden underneath the familiar cotton of his t-shirt. “Baby-”

“Chris,” your voice was firm, almost challenging as your hands slid to cover his, “I don’t want you to keep hiding yourself from me.” Feeling his body tense, you nodded softly, “Yeah - I figured out why you always went to the dorms for days on end, and I thought you’d come to me when you were ready but you didn’t.”

He could feel the disappointment radiating off of you, tinging the sweet aroma he knew and loved - he had royally fucked up.

“Princess, I’m sorry - I’m so, so sorry, I really didn’t mean to-”

“I know, baby, you meant well and I love you for that - you’re so selfless it makes me want to punch you sometimes.” A light laugh rolled past your lips and you felt him slightly deflate underneath you, relaxing just a bit, “So, to make up for it, you’re going to let me be selfish and let me help you from now on.”

He went to open his mouth in retaliation but you beat him to the punch, lowering yourself onto his lap fully, nestling his clothed cock against your equally clothed cunt, the warmth barely hidden behind the cotton short circuiting his brain.

“You will let me help you, because you and I both know this pussy is leagues better than whatever you’d be using at the dorm.”

“M-My hand,” he gritted, chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to ignore the pulsing coming from you or him or both.

“Just your hand?” You mused, tilting your head slightly.

“That’s all I’m admitting right now.” Licking his lips, he paused for a second, “Well, not all - there’s one other thing…” Watching as you nodded for him to continue, he let out a slow breath, “I’m not a dog.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I… I never called you a d-”

“I’m a wolf.”

“Oh.”

Okay, that throb definitely came from you.

“An alpha.”

“Oh.”

The spike in your scent nearly made him lightheaded, the headiness of your arousal further thickening the already addicting smell, “A-And I promise I’ll be gentle, but if it’s too much-”

“Safeword.” You finished for him, the conversation mirroring one you’ve both had before, “I promise I’ll let you know - now, can I help you?”

Chris wasn’t sure how he was able to contain himself as long as he was with you on top of him, looking down at him with so much warmth, understanding, acceptance - that would’ve been enough to get him through the next few days alone.

Well, in theory, at least.

Nodding to your question, he watched as your lips pulled into a soft smile before your hands moved to tug at your shirt, “Help me take this off?”

He didn’t need to be told twice as his hands moved down to the hem that was pooled around your hips, fingers hooking underneath and dragging along your sides as he slowly slid the fabric up your torso,

Meeting him halfway, you pulled the shirt off the rest of the way, throwing it to some dark reach of the bedroom to be found at a later time, hopefully.

A slow hiss escaped him, large hands running across your sides and up your stomach, blazing a trail to cup your breasts in his palms. “Fuck me…”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” you teased, arching into the warmth of his hands, “I thought you’d be absolutely ravaging me by now, mister wolf.”

He scoffed out a laugh, peering up at you with inquisitive eyes, “You want me to?”

“Helping you includes letting you use me however you need, so; please, Chris, use me.”

His body shivered underneath you, and before you knew it your nipples were subject to the slightly cold air of the room yet again - budding quickly in the change of temperature as his hands flew to your panties.

“Up.” He murmured, low tone bordering on a growl.

Heeding his command, you pushed yourself up onto your knees, just for a harsh tearing sound to reach your ears and bring your slightly dazed attention to your panties - or rather, the remains of your panties. He quickly tore a line down the other side before tugging it from underneath you, the sorry excuse for underwear nothing more than an ‘H’ shaped cloth before being flung into the darkness.

“Babe!”

“I’ll buy you more, whatever you want, whenever you want,” he huffed nonchalantly, bringing his right hand to your face, tapping his finger against your pouted bottom lip, “now, open.”

Choosing to save your faux sadness for another time, you parted your lips and brought two of his fingers into your mouth, tongue immediately swirling around the digits as you sucked lightly.

His eyes fluttered, dick painfully and pitifully straining against his boxer briefs, eagerly recalling the way that same tongue felt against his length - tomorrow, for sure.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth with a soft pop, he brought his hand back down between your parted legs, ghosting against your outer lips, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded reassuringly, “Promise.”

With your confirmation, he dipped his fingers between your lips, collecting your arousal on his spit-slicked digits before pressing them against your slit, slowly sinking them in all the way to his knuckles.

A low moan fell from your lips as his fingers stretched you open, head lolling back with bated breaths while your thighs slightly shook from holding yourself up, “C-Can’t you go faster? We’ve had sex before, baby, I know what you feel like.”

“Ruts are… It’s different than how things normally are,” he murmured, setting a thorough pace of curling his fingers with fluid motions of his wrist, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Patience was never your friend, especially when it came to having your boyfriend in the best way imaginable, and you huffed in disdain. “You won’t- ah, hurt me, I’m wet enough, you can feel it, you know I am!”

He growled your name through gritted teeth, noting the way your walls clenched around  his fingers in response, “I know you’re excited, but I know how this works - I’m not fucking you until I know you’re ready.”

He was right, you knew he was, but you were desperate - you needed this as much as he did and maybe he was aware of that, too. Maybe he knew how much you missed him, wholly and truly as you watched him slowly get taken over by work and worry.

Sparing him the rest of your needy insistence, you adjusted yourself to lean over him, resting your bare chest against his while laying your cheek against his pillow; inadvertently opening yourself up more for his fingers to work through.

“Good girl,” Chris cooed, his free hand cupping the outside of your thigh, “it’ll be quick, I swear.”

If there was one thing to know about Chris, it was that he kept his promises, and somewhere between the hums of praise against your ear and the well timed strokes of his fingers, you found yourself three fingers deep and on the cusp of an orgasm.

“Channie, please,” you panted against his pillowcase, head spinning and ears picking up on the wet sound of his fingers dutifully working you toward your high, “wanna- fuck- wanna come on your dick, please? Please, baby, can I?”

“Love, I…” The attempt of formulating an excuse died on his tongue - you were ready, he could feel it in more ways than one, the evidence dripping down the palm of his hand.

Pushing yourself to your forearms, you hovered over his body with all the strength you could muster, gazing down at him with lust fogged eyes. “I-I told you, if it was too much I’d let you know, remember? Chris, please,” dipping your head down, your lips pressed against his plump pair in what you could only express as hopeless desperation, “this is too much, I want you in me, now.”

A shaky breath fell from his lips as his fingers stilled, willing himself to focus on the pressure of your forehead against his while your words did everything in their power to rouse his instincts.

You were ready, you wanted him - he needed you.

The next thing you registered was the long, slow drag of his fingers out of your pussy, the way your walls clenched around nothing almost enough to make you beg for him to go back to fingering you; that is, if it weren’t for the feeling of his forearms brushing against the inside of your thighs.

It was a short struggle of working his boxer briefs down his thighs with you still on top of him, but he persevered and soon they were shuffled down his legs and kicked off the side of the bed, leaving you both fully naked under the cool light of the moon streaming through the window.

You wasted no time in sitting up fully yet again, reaching behind you to take his dick in your hand and running the smooth tip along your dripping folds.

“Baby, hold- oh, fuck-” Chris’ hands flew to your hips as you began sinking down on him, his mind going blank at the feeling of your all-too-tight walls hugging every inch of his girth.

“S-So big,” you gasped, eyebrows pinching as you sunk further, “it feels- jesus christ, it feels bigger - oh my god-”

“I told you, everything’s different when I’m in rut - everything.” Hissing out a short breath, he blinked away the haze and watched your face, “Don’t rush yourself, take it slow - and if it hurts-”

“-safeword, I know, baby, just-” Sucking in a breath, you steeled your nerves before releasing it in a slow exhale, relaxing your muscles as best as you could, “I know you trust me, but I need you to trust yourself, okay?”

Blinking up at you, he let your words settle in his head - he trusted you beyond a shadow of a doubt, no questions asked, but now he needed to show himself that same level of love.

So, he did; relaxing against the bed to witness you gently fuck yourself with the half of his length currently inside of you, your hands played against his chest for further support.

With each inch slid out came a new inch that slid in, airy moans floating past your lips as you felt your walls flutter to accompany the new stretch until you were sat in his lap and twitching at the promise of your first orgasm.

“Good girl, look at you - fuck, you’re taking me so well.”

This was better than anything he could’ve dreamt of; the way your nails dug into his chest, your head bowed as you tried composing yourself as best you could, all while your pussy hugged him in a way that made his hormonal mind spin.

“B-Big.” You gasped out, involuntarily clenching your walls with a sharp inhale, “So big, Channie.”

Truly you meant to say more, you wanted to talk about how perfect he was and how good he felt, but your brain was set on how immensely full you were and how the stretch was unlike anything you’ve ever felt despite how big he normally was to begin with.

“I told you,” he taunted in a sing-song voice, shifting his hips upwards and earning a high pitched mewl from you in return, “but you wanted to prove yourself, wanted to help your wolf, didn’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” nodding mindlessly, you locked your eyes with his own, watery and blown out with lust, “wanna help you - want you to use me, baby.”

His breath caught, hands flexing against the flesh of your thighs as he fought back the urge to make do on your words - not yet.

“Use me first, love.” Sliding his hands up to your hips, Chris held you tight, “Come for me, then I’ll show you how thankful I am for you, yeah?”

You nodded once more before shifting your pressure onto your calves and his chest, rising halfway off of his cock to sink back in a slow rhythm - though, even that simple motion had a breathless whimper falling from your lips. After another test bounce, you picked up the pace and rode him with as much vigor as you could muster; his grip on you guiding and assisting your motions in the process.

Ragged pants and moans filled the room, though most of the sounds came from you as you fought against the fiery licks of your orgasm at your heels, wanting to ride him as close to completion as you possibly could - not that you fared any better with him any other time.

“I can feel you clenching, baby,” he grunted, bucking his hips up at your next fall, “gonna come for me? Are you gonna come for me, princess?”

“Mhm- ‘M close,” your body felt like it was on fire, thighs burning with exertion through each rise and fall that brought you closer and closer to that sweet release. “Please, please, Chris, I’m so close.”

On instinct, he brought his right hand up from its place on your hip and pressed his thumb to your bottom lip, watching as you graciously parted your lips to lick at the pad before he brought it back down to the apex of your thighs; spreading your lower lips to press his slick thumb against your clit.

It only took a few well timed flicks for you to stutter in your riding, freezing in his lap as your pussy fluttered and clenched sporadically; clipped breaths and broken moans of his name filling the air.

“Ah, C-Chris- Chris!”

The way your nails dug into his chest should’ve hurt - there would undoubtedly be marks left behind in the morning - but the only thing running through his mind was the way you looked practically vibrating in his hold, your scent further flooding his senses as the warmth of your cum further slickened his cock.

You barely had the chance to fully come down from your high when you felt a shift - then, you were falling, your back landing on the mattress and a pillow cushioning the back of your head; you were on your back now, and hovering above you was your massive, borderline feral, boyfriend.

“Did so good for me,” he purred, hands sliding up your stomach to your breasts, then down again to your thighs and the backs of your knees, “such a good girl, my good girl - mine.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your pussy clenching around his length that was, surprisingly, still inside of you despite the change of positions.

“So perfect - can’t even believe you’re real sometimes.” He raised your legs up and slightly outward, eyes set in a firm gaze where you were still connected, “You deserve so much, ‘m gonna give you everything - anything you want, it’s yours.”

“You.” Breathless and starry-eyed, you spoke up once more, “I just want you, please, Chr- Please, alpha.”

The speed at which his eyes met yours would’ve made you think you said something horrendously wrong, but when all you saw was a shadow of dominance further darkening his lust blown irises, you knew your words coaxed something free.

“You want me?” His tone was low, velvety, though the grip on the backs of your knees tightened and, without warning, he bucked his hips forward to sheath a lingering inch or so back inside of you, “Then take me, princess.”

If anything, his words were a warning for what was soon to come as you were held spread open for his viewing pleasure; the sound of the mattress squeaking becoming a background tempo to the rhythmic slapping of his thighs to the bottom of your ass - fast and deep, each thrust slowly inching your body up the bed as he easily followed.

Your hand pressed against the headboard, anchoring you in place before the top of your head could meet the wood, while the other wrapped around his forearm and held on for dear life - the only thing leaving your mouth being short moans and a chorus of ‘ah, ah, ah’s.

“I’ll give you everything,” Chris huffed breathlessly, his heated gaze traveling up your body before landing on your face, “all of me - my love, my knot, my cum-” A shudder ran through his body, his thrusts growing faster, “-every last drop, just like you want, yeah?”

The closest thing to a confirmation you could offer was a rapid nod of your head, eyes rolling as the fat head of his cock brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars.

“Words, baby - tell me.”

“Yes!” You cried out, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes as your second orgasm reared its head, “W-Want it- Want your knot! Need you to- F-Fuck, need you to fill me, please!”

Suddenly, you were dragged from the top of the bed toward the middle with ease, the presence of his hands behind your knees now changing to him locking your legs around his hips and propping himself up above you on his forearms.

“I’ll knot you so well, baby,” his nose brushed against yours, lips ghosting with each hushed word, “give you everything I have - I’ll make sure it sticks, you just need to take it.”

You panted pleas and promises against his lips, your arms locking around his shoulders as a hand found its way to his hair, while the other splayed across the top of his back - too far gone to fully consider the words he was saying, you just needed him.

“You can take it, you can take it.” He murmured softly, a stark contrast to the frantic thrusts currently shaking your body, “I know you can take it, right? It’ll fit, I’ll make it fit.”

A sudden grind of his hips had you flying over the edge of your second orgasm unexpectedly, barely managing a sharp moan as your back arched off of the bed as best it could with him caging you in.

Chris shivered, driving into you with short, sharp ruts as his orgasm finally began to show, the anticipation making him pant heavily above you while his eyes scanned your blissed out face; your body thrumming with the aftershocks of your high.

“C-Channie.” You whimpered, eyebrows pinching as a new presence made itself known in your abdomen, “Channie, w-what-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothed instantly, though his pace remained unchanged, “‘m almost there, princess, I just need-” A pained grunt escaped him, the beginnings of his knot starting to grow, “I need you to take it for me- Please, please, baby, take it, take me, okay? You can do it, you can.”

The increasing stretch made you keen, your nails now digging into his back in an attempt to counteract the pain, “It’s- It’s too much, baby - oh my god.” Despite your feigned protests, you found yourself locking your legs around his hips, your body more than willing to cross this next hurdle.

Each pull out became shallower and shallower, his knot slowly getting caught in your walls.

“Please, please, please, please, please.” He chanted desperately, his right hand fisting the crumpled sheets underneath you, “It can fit, it’ll fit - just a little more, princess, just a little-” The next thrust forward finally locked him in place, his knot fully surrounded by your tight walls, “Fuck! T-Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You shook underneath him, nonsensical babbles leaving your mouth as tears of pure pleasure streaked their way down your face, “I-I- C-Come, Channie, come- ‘S big, big-”

“I-I’m gonna,” Chris heaved above you, breath rugged and short, sweat dripping down his temples, “‘m gonna come, baby- I’m gonna- Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

His voice tapered off into a high pitched whine, followed by a groan as his cock throbbed inside of you, flooding your poor cunt with wave after wave of cum.

At some point you must’ve blacked out, because when you came to he was no longer gasping for air, however the ache between your legs was still very present - though, it wasn’t uncommon for him to stay inside of you after a creampie.

“Baby? Princess? Are you okay? What’s your color?”

Smiling dazedly, you hummed happily with a soft sigh, “Green, so green.”

You went to stretch your legs when a short tug stopped you in your tracks, Chris groaning above you with a sharp breath, “Don’t- Don’t move, baby.”

Running back the last few moments of consciousness, you were quickly and graciously reminded of your new predicament - though, said memory caused more harm than good, as your walls fluttered involuntarily at the spicy recollection of events.

“Baby.”

“I’m sorry!” You pouted at him, hanging your hands from his wide shoulders, “I can’t help it, it was hot.”

Chris scoffed out a chuckle, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but we’re gonna be stuck like this for a little bit until my knot goes down, okay?”

Nodding, you gave him a soft tug, smiling as he dropped his weight to lay on top of you before tucking his head in the crook of your neck, littering butterfly kisses to the undoubtedly damp skin there.

“You did such a great job, baby,” he murmured softly, nosing at the underside of your jaw, “I’m so proud of you, and… Thank you for wanting to help me through this - seriously, you didn’t have to and I just… I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too, darling,” you scratched your nails against his scalp gently, a soft hum vibrating through his chest, “just remember that I’m here for you no matter what - when I say I love you, that means all of you.” Accepting his sign of understanding as him raising slightly to catch your lips in a slow kiss, you gave him a tired smile, “Now, let me take a quick nap, because you and I both know there’s more where that came from.”

“Yeah… You’re in for a long night, princess.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay

✧. ┊Kinktober only: @selicua

And just like any other weekends, you're here at your shift, standing side by side with Minho who's eyes and lips are smiling— not sure if genuinely though— with the flock of customers on his side. He have always been the popular amongst the bartenders of the club, so it's not really surprising of how much customers who wanted him to serve them their drinks. Others even would take their time thinking what drink they should order just so they could talk to him even longer, which only Minho shrugs his shoulders with. He must be so used to it.

But who wouldn't want to be served by him though? He's charismatic, really really handsome for his own good, hot and cold demeanor, pitch raven hair that suits his cold personality, and just a small smile from him makes everyone man and woman squeal. Has this very soothing and calming voice you'd want someone to coo you a lullaby at night. Overall— attractive. If he weren't a colleague for you, you'd be one of those girls lining for his attention.

"Look at him, as popular as ever." You heard Mina said, slightly leaning forward for you to hear her because of the club's loud music. It made you chuckle a bit. She's a regular here also, but unlike most of everyone, she's one of your loyal customers. Because according to her, you make the tastiest martinis, which is her favorite drink. You chuckled from her word as you push another glass of Pink Martini.

"Wouldn't be shocking at this point. I get them though. It's Minho. Although most of the time he doesn't seem to be very interested."

The said lad gazes at you, ears perked up when he heard you mention his name. To which you just smiled at him, and he did the same. But unlike with other customer's, his smile to you is much wider, something like more geniune.

A soft giggle escaped Mina's lips, sipping for her 4th martini tonight.

"And it seems like you are more interesting for him, than the amount of customers he has."

You shot her the glare even though an obvious tint of pink stain (not from the alcohol) flusterred on your face.

"What? I'm just saying! I've known him since high school. And the way he looks and smile at you is the same as when he eats his pudding."

You both laughed at it, because of how weird of a comparison that is.

"But it's true!"

"Shut up, Mina. Stop putting ideas in my head with your nonsense."

Saturdays and Sundays are usually the slowest day despite being all crowded and noisy. Despite having the most customers, it feels like time runs so slow because of it. It's only 11pm and you feel like you have been here for 12 hours. So when you noticed the decreasing customers on the bar, you decided to at least sat on your high chair for awhile, sighing in content.

Your body suddenly jolted from the sudden cold touching your cheek. And when you look at it, it was Minho holding a cold bottled water.

"Water?"

You smiled at him, handing the bottle on his hand. "Thank you, Minho."

After that he resumed attending his and your customers. Serving them their drinks while he lets you rest for a bit. Told him you didn't have to but he insisted so you you had no choice— not that you are complaining— but to sit down. Your back starts to hurt anyways so you just let yourself sat for a bit.

It took another 2 hours for the bar counter to settle up. Lesser customers, lesser orders. You've had your share of work too, cleaning the dusty glasses of gin and wines whenever you don't have orders, cleaning the bar counter, and washing the dishes at the back. When you got back at the barcounter you saw Minho, in front the counter, sitting next to a customer while they talk. You knew the person he was talking to. Naeun, one of Minho's richest customers. She's always here every Saturday for some drinks but have been absent for the past weeks, and this is the first time you saw her again since the last time. When your eyes meets her, smiled with her eyes and waved at you, to which you only replied with a simple bow. She's very friendly, not very much older than both you and Minho, maybe just a few years older that's why she gets along with him. She's like a very special customer for the lad you think, because unlike any other customers, Minho treats her really well. Maybe she's someone important for him? Maybe so, that's why he keeps rejecting any advances from his other customers. It's not actually shocking since they suit each other, a pretty lady for a pretty boy, you thought

"I'll just barrow Minho here for a bit, Y/N. Is that okay? I'll give him back once customers are flocking again." Naeun said, with a hint of being tipsy on her voice. How many glasses have she had?

"You know you don't have to ask for my permission. It's not like I own the man." You replied chuckling. "Take your time. Minho had so many customers awhile ago, he can sit there with you, as much as you like."

You saw from your peripheral vision, while serving to a customer, Naeun leaning in on Minho's ear as if she was whispering him something. Minho scratching on his nape and shaking his head with an obvious tint stain on his cheeks. He's blushing? Your eyes furrowed.

"You're such a fucking coward you know." She retorted, slightly slapping the man on his arms. When you're done serving, Naeun beckoned you towards her.

"Heard your martini is popular here. Can I order one?"

"Of course."

You made her order experimental since Naeun told you to do so, ask her her favorite color and made it one.

"Y/N, do you think Minho and I looks good together?"

You stopped midtracks, like the time suddenly stops from the question you just heard. Eyebrows furrowing as you look at the two curious pair of eyes waiting for your answer.

"I— why suddenly ask me that?" You asked, voice nervously cracking as you pushed the glass of martini towards her. You pursed your lips, shutting your eyes trying to suppressed your nervousness.

"I mean, I guess? Y-you too are both attractive, kinda looks similar at some point so I think you'll do good together." You answered truthfully with a half smile formed on your lips. You wanna smack yourself in the head from just indulging the question, but then again you don't want to sound so bitter about it.

She giggled, nudging Minho in his shoulders. "You heard that? She said we'll look good together."

Finally your shift is over, it's already 4am in the morning. You were outside of the club, clutching on your pursed, cigarette on your mouth, trying to destress yourself leaning against the wall. Puffing smoke out of your mouth sighing in satisfaction.

"Hey."

Your head turns to the side, where Minho just got out of the club, already out of his uniform and simply wearing a plain blue hoodie and a cargo shorts paired with sneakers. The simpliest outfits even makes him standout. How unfair.

"Oh, hey." You greeted him back with a small smile. He then goes beside you, leaning against the wall.

"Going home now? I can drive you home if you'd okay with that?"

"It's okay. You must have somewhere else to go." You replied with a wider smile this time before dragging another puff of smoke.

"Somewhere else like?"

"I don't know. Maybe with Naeun?"

Suddenly he's in front of you, you trapped in between his arms, hands leaning on both side of your ear. He's looking down at you with a slight amuse on his face.

"Oh? So you really think her and I look good together?" He mused to which you only rolled your eyes on him. Dragging another long puff on your cigarette blowing the smoke on his face, too tired to even argue.

You haven't even recovered from huffing on your cigarette when suddenly something— no, someone— invaded your mouth. Minho invaded your mouth, lips locked on yours, slightly parted as he try to inhale the smoke through your lips. It made you gasped, dropped your cigarette and clung your hands on his hoodie. It was so invasive but for some reason you can't seem to push him away. After few seconds of actually contemplating you successfully pushed him away from you.

"Stop. I wouldn't want people who'll see us to misunderstand." You exhaled from the deprivation of air to your lungs, and then freed yourself from his caging arms.

"People like who?"

You deadpanned at him, internally rolling your eyes from his words. Seriously? You already know that sometimes he's clueless but you didn't know he's this clueless. Or maybe his emotions are way too cold to actually understand someone else's.

"I don't know. Naeun maybe." You replied, crossing your arms and closing your eyes. Your migraine starts to huggle your head again because of the lack in sleep.

"Naeun? I don't think my cousin would actually misunderstand if she sees us kissing."

That made you froze on your feet. It almost made you choke on your own spit as you look at Lee Minho who just said something with a straight fucking face.

"What?"

"You heard me. Naeun's my cousin so you don't have to worry about her misunderstanding everything."

Everything went so fast after that. Minutes after you are at the backseat of Minho's car, tank top lifted up to your chest exposing your rounded mounds, jeans already discarded somewhere on his car, legs parted wide with 3 fingers buried inside you, him on your top, one hand slightly gripping on your neck forcing your face to stay still and his face nuzzling on your cheek.

"Minho..." You gasped out, hips lifting up a bit trying to chase for his fingers. Your head spinning from the lewd noises your cunt is making because of how drenched you are. His fingers ramming inside you isn't helping at all. You wanted more, you've been wanting more.

"Hmm?" Minho hummed, curling his fingers up your inside making you whine because of him hitting your spot. He chuckled lowly from it, fingers slowly abusing the spot earning him cute moans that sounds like a lullaby on his ears.

"Right here?" He softly mused, perking his fingers again, harder this time, making you slightly bounce beneath him a bit.

"Yes! Oh god— yes! Please, more!" You moaned right through his ear, indication for him to go further, go faster, deeper, and harder. The sounds your cunt makes are so lewd in the ears. It's so wet, so slicky, it helped him move his hand easier. The combination of your moans and the sound of cunt makes him delirious. Him tightly biting on his lower lip trying to control himself from devouring you whole. He wanted to enjoy it further, make you cum first, make it more pleasurable for you first before he could actually eat you out whole.

"Min— 'm coming! Please, please, please..."

You moaning his name like a mantra is slowly setting him to his edge. He could feel himself coming through his pants just by listening to your moans. You drive him so crazy, so delirious, so fucking hard.

"Go on, sweety. Let it go. I got you." He cooed. He wrapped his free arm around your hips, making you in place as he drills his hand inside you, so fast, no stopping, not even a shot stop.

His soft voice pushed you to your edge, legs shaking, tummy churning, your eyes rolling at the back of your head. Your mouth hanged open with bits of saliva dripping your chin. Your nails raking on Minho's bare back, dragging a long 'Ohhhh.' in the process. He felt your cunt cried with juices, squirting from how hard your orgasm was. Your whole body shaking as he try to ride your orgasm by not stopping from moving. And when your body froze, he slowly pulled out and away so he could stare at your fucked out face. He smiled from how your face drip with sweat, mouth hanged open, breathing so ragged.

"Such a good girl." He cooed, pressing a soft kiss on your head. One hand caressing on your back soothing you.

"Do you wanna go somewhere comfortable? Like my apartment, maybe?" He asked, to which you only answered a yes in a slurred manner eventhough you don't actually understand what he said. He chuckled softly cooing you closer for a bit. His nose nuzzling on your hair, and sniffing on your scent making him sigh deeply. His mind wander at the thought of you on his bed, indulging from your blazing heat that he knows he'll be a forever slave of.

permanent taglist: @hime-honne, @dxllyhorror, @thepoeticpurplepotato, @lynsbng, @leewayout, @moldypancakes — join taglist here.

You wondered how long it would take before you just decided not to work anymore. It wasn’t like the job is bad or anything, quite the opposite. You get handsomely paid and that wasn’t a surprise. You work as a waitress at one of the most popular strip club in the city. You slept through the day, waking up late to get ready for your night shift. Every day you had to smile and giggle at the most gross and creepy men in hopes they would tip you more. But you can’t say anything to that. You have nothing to whine about and also you really liked it there. Pretty interior, good music and shows — maybe it's just your distaste for life at the moment.

Your naked feet dance across the ground, heels in your hand and you do hate yourself for forgetting about your other shoes. You did left your apartment quite in hurry. As well as now. It wasn’t the fact that walking on the ground made you literally shiver in disgust, it was mostly because you were starting to get highly aware of your position right now.

The early hours of morning are probably the most dangerous in this city. When you decided to live here, you didn’t look much into the history of the city. However every luxury and dreamlike city comes with secrets. The streets were still dark, quiet and cold, your hair sticking to your skin slightly from the humidity. You had to press your arms around your chest a little tighter when you hear a small noise behind you. You at that moment realized how unarmed you were. Cold, shivering in your skirt and light jacket, alone — you can’t help, but feel frightened a little.

This city was known for its crime, but being also so charming it makes all the tourist, just like you, blind enough not to see the danger it truly holds. Your head whipped around to look behind you. Nothing. Though you do pick up your pace, hissing at the small stones digging into your feet. Your droopy eyes flickered over the seemingly empty streets, few lamps lighting your path. You wanted nothing more than be in your apartment already as you started to feel not so alone anymore when another unexpected noise is heard.

A clinking of a glass bottle echoes around you. It was probably just a stray animal or something, but your heart still skipped a beat. You turned back around to look before you, but your eyes stopped at the well known open, alley next to you. It was a short cut, however you only took it at day when it seemed way more safe. The way the darkness almost seemed to pull you into it made you uncomfortable. You knew that you should never take a dark alley so late, even if you heard noise on the other end of the street. Something about it just screamed danger, yet it also called out to you and you knew how much time it would safe you by going that way — so you did.

Turning around the corner you couldn’t help, but look around your surroundings. Still nothing. It still scared you just a little, because you can never know, but just standing on the same spot won’t help you either. Sighing you walked further into the dark alleyway, grumbling just a little when you walked into small puddle. You really couldn’t afford being sick, another thing that made you go just a little faster. For being the city of crime at night, the rent prices really weren’t that low. You of course asked yourself if maybe moving away would be better, but you never knew that working at a strip club would make you meet the most important people in your life right now. You were just a runaway and all of them invited you with open arms. District 9 was also a city of outcasts — just like you.

Your nails dig into your jacket, piercing your skin almost from the way the pathway before you became completely dark. The only thing helping you see was the Moon and looking up, you for a second became blinded by its beauty. Cold kissed your cheeks, nose runny and your eyes slightly glossed over. Your dreamlike state didn’t last for very long, just like your sanity as you heard a very loud sound from somewhere near you.

You immediately jumped, body freezing. Your eyes widened, maybe to see better and when you heard the same noise once again you let out a small sigh of fright. However as the sound traveled to your senses, you quickly realized it was just a sound of car’s door closing. You almost wanted to laugh at yourself. Your paranoia still lingered when you looked into the direction of the sound and you fight back a shiver as it is the same way you must take to get home. You for a second wondered if there was maybe another way, but you knew that at the end, few blocks away was your warm, cozy home.

Taking a few, slow steps forward, your cold feet dragged across the ground for a second, thinking. Your ears were on high alert, eyes unfocused as it would help you hear better. Nothing, but was it really? Your hand gripping the string of your purse traveled down to open it. Fishing through it, your movements frantic, trying to find your choice of weapon. Even if your bag was rather small it got messy really fast. Before you could panic any longer your fingers finally grazed over the plastic, pulling it out quickly, your index finger immediately finding the dip at the top of the pepper spray. You kept it for years and you prayed that you won’t have to use it any time soon. You also wondered if it was still useable, but there’s only one way to found out.

The alley became less narrow the further you went, just like you remembered. You found a safe spot next to a brick wall, away from the warehouse next to you, hand dragging across the stone. You never liked that place. It was damned to be demolition and you always came across few pieces of stones falling from the walls. It seemed like a big hazard to you, but for some reason no one wanted to take it down.

As you were almost half way through the alley a flash of light flickered on the ground. You stopped in your tracks when it fell on the ground right before you, but just before it disappeared you followed it with your eyes. It flashed right before you then it traveled to the brick wall and when you turned around you realized it was coming from the building right next to you. It came from the inside, because from what you could see, it disappeared right when it hit a wall next to one of the broken windows. You couldn’t help but frown in confusion, head tilting down to maybe see inside what seemed like the basement window.

Maybe it was just some kids messing around, but when you decided to continue your walk home something stopped you. A loud sound pierced your ears, making you let out a small gasp, grasping your chest. However your noise was small compared to the short painful scream that came right after. You froze, breathing heavily, grasping your pepper spray in death grip. Turning once again you turned to the direction of the small window and from this angle you could finally see inside.

You didn’t know why you didn’t just run away as it was not worth it, but what if somebody was in danger. You probably wouldn’t be able to sleep with the guilt if you would see something in news later. You glanced back to the direction of your home and back to the window. You are troubled and just a little bit terrified. This wasn’t a good idea, but you were never good at making decisions, so you only walked closer.

And with careful steps, trying to be as quiet as possible at this hour. You bend in the knees, falling almost when the light shined yet again, but it thankfully wasn’t in your direction. You leaned closer with your free hand on the wall, lowering yourself on your knees. You fought back the disgust when your skin touched the dirty, cold ground, centering your attention on the light instead. You again followed it, watching how it was put down on something.

Your lips parted in shock, because as soon as the light was put down, the light beam hit a person rolling on the floor in agony. Then two feet dressed in fine, polished shoes stepped into the direction of the person. Their footsteps squeaked, shuffling closer and closer to the injured man. The one standing had their back turned to you, like the one on the ground, but just as you wondered what happened to the person they rolled over onto their back. Your hand immediately fell to your mouth, silencing your gasp at the sight.

Blood was everywhere on the man’s face. His hand put pressure onto his bleeding eye, but even with that he couldn’t stop the liquid from flowing out. Your legs shook and even with your fright you could still hear the words from the man standing. “Tell me their names.” The voice is low and rough. The demand meant for the injured man is only answered in series of pleas.

You were in state of shock, completely frozen in your spot. You couldn’t even breathe at that moment, watching with wide eyes as the standing man crouched down to his level. You could only see the back of his head full of dark hair, his wide shoulders caging the trembling man who raised his hands in surrender. However it didn’t seem like that man was moved by his apologies. You should’ve ran before it was too late, but how? You didn’t know what to do. Nothing, there was nothing for you to do to help that poor man as the man before him mumbled something that made the other scream in terror.

Your mouth fell wide open as when man with wide shoulders stood up again, holding out his hand. Another person which you didn’t see till then handed him a weapon — a gun. Your eyes filled with tears, because you would probably see the most gruesome sight in your life. Your breathing picked up, heart beating so fast you thought it would jump out of your chest. You couldn’t…you couldn’t look further as the dark haired man pointed the gun at the man who shook like a leaf. And then you did a very stupid thing…

You went to move away from the window, but your hand on the wall slipped, making your foot drag forward. A gasp that came from your lips was louder than the man’s cries, but not the stones rolling down from the window, landing right next to the man’s feet. You were immediately blinded by light shining into your face and you thought you almost died out of fear itself at that moment when the man turns to you.

The first thing you noticed about him was the large scar running across his face, starting from his eyebrow and ending at his chiseled jaw. His full lips were pulled into a scowl, brown eyes glaring right into yours. You felt like at the brink of fainting, because you immediately recognized him. His face was all over the news, only a sketch, but everyone knew about the man with a scar. Bangchan was his name. The most dangerous man of the whole city, a leader of an underground gang that is known for haunting these streets at night.

His whole demeanor screamed danger and hearing his voice once again, it did activated your fight or flight instinct. “Get her.” It came out cold and unemotional. His voice made your whole body vibrate, eyes falling to the gun still in his hand, but he did not make a move to raise it to your head. Instead you only heard heavy, quick footsteps and before you finally jumped away from the window, you saw three dark figures moving in the shadows — right into the direction of the side entrance to the warehouse, just where you were.

You knew you should never run to your home when someone was chasing you, but you had better chance at making it home than running back. You rised to your feet, not even thinking twice and running out of the aisle. Your legs immediately quivered at your sudden moves, feeling your muscles scream. Stumbling slightly, you almost slipped as you round the corner, running out of the alley just as you heard the sound of heavy metal doors slamming against a wall.

From the brute force you swear it vibrated in your bones. In your runaway plan you didn’t even realize you left your heels behind, but they were not going to help you anyway. You already had hard time using your legs, bare feet feeling like they would crumble at any moment. You couldn’t ignore the footsteps behind you. You looked back frantically, one of the three man a little too close to your liking. A cry of disbelief and horror left you, eyes going back to look at the sidewalk before you. You prayed that somebody would appear and safe you, but knowing what kind of people were chasing you nobody would be able to help you anyway.

You were so close. One block and you were home. You were trying not give up, lungs burning, metallic taste in your mouth overwhelmed your senses for a second. And then when your mind cleared again, you heard nothing. You didn’t stop however, only turning your head back around. You cried out in small relief as you saw nobody behind you on the sidewalk.

You didn’t think much of it as you stumbled over your apartment building. You didn’t think about the fact that they maybe were watching you, seeing that running after you was no use. Your adrenaline rush was greater than their strength. You knew that they wouldn’t give up. That man won’t give — he will hunt you down and do whatever he wants with you, because that’s just who he is. However you only felt relief when you walked inside your home, just as the orange hue of the rising sun start to peaked out from behind the tall buildings, but you also couldn’t ignore the lingering darkenss.

────

A dream, a nightmare — that’s what you thought it was when you woke up. Your eyes were all puffy, mind still fuzzy, but also on high alert at the same time. You remember how the first thing that you did when you stumbled inside your apartment was deadbolting it and moving your wardrobe to block the door. It all happened so fast that you still even now think you really just dreamed all of it. However losing your favorite heels and also the pepper spray under your bed told you the opposite. You really are surprised that you even woke up, seeing that you overslept your alarm three times. You were in hurry to get to work in time, but you think should’ve called the police instead. However you know that it would put even more of a target on your head. You don’t know what this man is truly capable of and you can’t be certain that he hasn’t got anyone in the police, because he always gets away with everything. Also by the time the cops would get there, there would be no clue that would indicate that the most dangerous gang was even there.

Your paranoia and fear for your own safety led you to passing out the moment you fell on to your bed. You were still in your dirty, damp clothes, waking up half an hour late, but somehow you managed to find time for a shower, do your makeup and dress up. You at that moment realized how your life is just a show. You slept even more than yesterday, but somehow you are the most tired you have ever been. The second you walked into your work, a wave of guilt hit you. You really should’ve called the police as soon as you got to your apartment. However you really did give them a lot of time to clean up after their mess. maybe you shouldn't have gone to the window — you really thought you could be the hero.

You feel like a clown in your mid length sparkly dress and heels, staring at the small tv at the far left corner. The sign ‘Girls,Girls,Girls’ next to it made it quite hard to see clearly on the screen, but you could recognize the blurry sketch everywhere. However it isn’t a report like you expected, it is only a remind to call the police if you see anyone similar to this image. The police and probably even FBI are getting a little too desperate to your taste when they put a price on his head. They are only putting civilians into danger and you just know that taking down the leader of this gang would only cause more trouble. Everybody knows Bangchan as a bad man, a murder who steals and brakes things, like the lives of innocent people. From every report there is about his actions it seemed like he leaves nothing behind other than few hints. You wonder if all of those victims have anything in common, but if they did the federal government wouldn’t give too much information out. They are all liars and assholes. You remember your coworker telling you that they once barged in to the club with guns, leaving shortly after with no explanation what so ever. You moved to the city few months after that fiasco.

You wipe down a glass, unaware of your surroundings, so when an empty tray falls right on the counter before you, you jump right out of your skin. Your head whips to the girl before you who only gives you a look of confusion in return. “Girl, you good?” Cathy asks you, her dark hair falling into her eyes, but you still see her glare. You know her the longest out of anyone. She was the one other than her best friend Nina who dances at the private rooms who helped you with everything. A lot of people come and go, but you are greatful that she stayed here with you, just like the boy next to you.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, making your eyes fall onto David who wears the same look on his face. “What’s going on? You’ve been very jumpy today.” There’s a pull on his bushy eyebrows and you realize that it’s concern. He always has the tendency to joke around more than anything and you see him like this only from time to time, so it makes you even more nervous.

You blink at him in thought. “Did one of the guys give you trouble again?” The girl before you goes further and you fight the argue to just break down and tell them everything. You think about what to answer. If you told them, you would probably put them in danger and you definitely couldn’t live with that. You will just have to wait till your shift is over and call the police…

Your eyes flicker back to the tv that nobody other than staff stares at sometimes, there are simply way prettier things to look at. “Nothing happened, just tired…I guess.” It comes out leveled yet little and something told you that even with such a reassuring tone they didn’t believe you.

They didn’t ask you further after that, but both of them kept a careful eye on you for the next two hours and you almost quivered at their intense gazes. You prefer to be honest over anything, but you really can’t. You tried to distract yourself with looking at the dancers. Their moves were usually so mesmerizing and beautiful, but right now their sensual moves were not enough to distract you from overthinking.

Maybe it’s the fact that you were acting like nothing actually happened, because you didn’t talk about it nor called the police, but you swear you felt someone watching you. It weren’t the eyes of a peeping Tom like you are quite used to — these ones drilled holes into your back. Every time you would go away from the bar to collect empty glasses and take order which was quite frequent, because the club was packed full tonight, goosebumps would appear on your body. You can’t help, but imagine those dark, brown eyes looking at you from somewhere. Your own imagination will be the death of you.

In your hurry to get back to the bar and order the drinks from a table full of collage boys, a single shot of tequila was left behind. You know you shouldn’t do it as it is against the policy, but you find yourself not caring too much, swallowing the shot in one, smooth go. It immediately burns at the back of the throat and you look around swiftly to see if anyone saw you and to your delight no one even batted an eye at you.

“Y/N!” At the sound of your name, you freeze, thinking you actually got caught in your act, but you are only met with Cathy again. She walks up to you with heavy breaths, hair sticking to her forehead from the humidity. “They need you as a backup—“ With her words she nods her head to the direction of the VIP section, before making her way back to the bar with her own tray of empty glasses.

You frown, eyes snapping to that direction. You have never been in there, because it is a known fact that only specific people could get in there. It is like an individual part of the club and you think you have never met anyone from there other than Nina. Celebrities, politicians all sorts of known people go there from what you know and you definitely wouldn’t be able to slip in as your eyes fall on the tall bodyguard guarding the door. You snap back to reality, realizing you are literally standing in the middle of the room.

You walk up quickly to the dark haired girl, your expression still the same, but she somehow isn’t so phased by it. “At the private rooms?” You say slowly, trying to see if this is supposed to be some sort of joke.

Putting down the tray next to hers, you watch her for a second, but Cathy only nods, not even looking at you as she starts to make a Bloody Mary. “Yeah and someone is asking for you—“

You only give her another look of confusion, tilting your head in thought. Your eyes quickly travel to the stages, then to the private section and back then back to her again, “I’m not a dancer.” You almost scoff, not in disgust, but at the thought of your stiff-self dancing that way.

Her laugh is sharp and it kind of offends you in some way. “I know, baby.” David just happens to round the corner to help her, not without giving you an odd look. “They just asked you to help them back there, it’s packed full.”

You hum, still not sure why you, because someone like her or David would definitely be a better help. You still sometimes look at the recipe for certain drinks, like rainbow shots — very popular in the bar, those gave you a whiplash every time you would try to make them. The thought of the VIP section with private rooms being completely full didn’t seem weird to you. Here, at your usual section they aren’t any private rooms simply because the people at the private area are usually famous so if anything would’ve happened they would sure pay for it.

You go take your tray again, but a hand stops you, pushing it away from you. You give your male friend a small look when he points back to the direction of the private area. “Okay…and who is asking for me?” You say, walking to the edge of the bar, before you walk away.

“They didn’t say.” Answers you Cathy, running away with her tray now filled to the brim with drinks. You look quickly at David who just also walks away from you, serving another thirsty customer.

You don’t question their weird behavior anymore, seeing that they have their hands quite full at the moment, but you wonder why they behaved so weirdly towards you. It is weird in some way that someone asked for you specifically as you weren’t even a dancer. A lump forms at the back of your throat, while making your way towards the big man guarding the doors to your destination. The more you get closer, the more your heart beats faster. Something about this screamed trouble, but maybe you were just exaggerating.

Even from a distance the man at the door sees you and he sure is intimidating, even his stare makes you doubt if you can even go near his direction. He is so tall that it hurt to look up at him, almost forgetting why you are here in the first place when you stop before him. “Ehm…I’m Y/N, somebody was asking for me?” You say uncertain.

He looks you up and down quickly, before his eyes scan the room. When he looks back at you, he nods, stepping away from the doors which seemed miniature next to him. “Follow me.” He says, voice rough, like he smoked a whole pack of cigarettes before saying there two simple words. You mimic his nod dumbly, smacking your lips together to smudge your lipstick. You watch the man open the door for you, however just a little to let you slip in.

You immediately blink rapidly to adjust your vision to the darkness surrounding you. You are blinded by how dark the room is, stopping to stare at a light up stage filled with no dancers so far. Your eyes thankfully adjust to the change of lightning enough to let you see your surroundings. Confusion is the first thing you feel as you look around the area — literally no one is here. The room in some way looks the same as the section you work at, but it definitely lacks in life. You become nervous suddenly when you see the bodyguard turning around to walk back to you, seeing you aren’t following him.

You gasp slightly when he wraps his hand around your bicep, pushing you with him. His grip is so tight that it hurt to move, you didn’t have anything against going further into the room, but now you do. Your eyes follow the trail of empty tables to the lit stage again. The grip the man has you in made you scared, because there really isn’t a respond for him to do such that — only if he thought you were trying to escape…just like now.

A small sound of pain leaves you, pulling at his hand to at least loosen his grip. There really wasn’t a chance you could overpower him, you only looked stupid in the process, turning your body back to the entrance to push him back. Before he again pushes you closer to him, you get a glimpse of the outside…you never knew that those windows were one way mirrors. That made you sick to your stomach.

You stumble in your heels, but he basically walked for you the whole time. However you do almost fall forward when he twirls you around a surprisingly full table. You only see the back of their heads, but before you could wonder who these people are, the man holding you shoves you right before them. The brute force makes you double over, hands falling on to the table of their booth, shaking it in the process.

“There she is—“

You can’t breath — there is no way…you are officially dead. When you look up from the plastic table, you don’t look at the owner of the voice, but right at the man sitting before you. A choked sound leaves you, your heavy breaths fanning away your hair from your eyes to see the truth better. It is him. If the aura radiating from him wasn’t a dead giveaway, it would certainly be the scar running across his face. Your eyes met briefly, like yesterday and just like the last time, it activated your fight or flight instinct.

You turn around to run away, but you are only held back by the same man who took you here. How stupid of you to think you could get away. Your legs buckle, eyes starting to sting, because you can’t believe this is your life right now — well, probably the end of it. Chuckles are let out across the table and you become disgusted at such sound at such moment. “Oh, no where are you going?” Is said jokingly from your left side, your eyes falling onto a man with black, short hair and surpringly glimmering eyes.

You don’t know who he is exactly, but you just know that these men are all the eight members of Stray Kids. A funny name for such dangerous men, but it somehow suited them as they never stayed in one place, messing up lives all across the state like nothing. You can’t breath, your fear even blinded the pain from the grip on your shoulders. Even if your eyes go all around the whole table, your eyes still stop on him.

“No need to be scared now.” Says another, more deep voice and from your peripheral vision you see that it is the blonde man next to the leader. “We don’t bite.”

You stay quiet, your eyes falling on the sliver of skin peaking from his black shirt, too weak to look into his eyes or anywhere else. You do not believe that man, because how? There’s nothing that can make you feel even the slightest at ease right now. His voice was low, but reassuring in a sense, he tried, but it fell to deaf ears. You are starting to panic, thinking about how just few feet away from you are people that could possibly help you. However you can’t even breathe let alone move with that vice grip the bodyguard is holding you in and you realize that he probably was working for them the whole time. How did they manage to get in? With their reputation it must be hard for them to even get some sunlight, but somehow they are all sitting right before you in total relaxation. They do not look or sound angry with you, maybe because you are nothing, but a small fly to them anyway. It won’t take too much to take you down.

Your eyes trail higher, stopping at his yet again and with your blurry eyes you don’t see the small speck of softness at the corners of his eyes. “I swear, I won’t tell anyone what I saw, please don’t hurt me—“ You can’t believe you are actually begging for your own life.

“What did you see exactly?” Asks a man to your right. Your eyes travel to him, tears falling out of your eyes onto the table, clearing your vision for just a second, letting you get a glimpse of him. This one you recognize — long black hair, the famous freckle under his eye. Like his leader, his face has been seen several times and he definitely had no reason to hide such face. Now, his sharp features were pulled into mock thought, looking down at you in waiting.

Your lips parted and the men at the table can’t help, but smile at your expression. “Nothing…” You answer.

“No lying.”

You immediately turn to the leader. You frown slightly at his statement, not looking too long into his eyes, because it felt like he could literally turn you into stone by a single look. You realize that the long haired man was just making fun of you, twisting your fear into something they could smile at. You want to sneer at him, but that sure wouldn’t be smart and you can’t do anything other than blink between the leader and the place next to his head. “I saw something.” You confess, like they already didn’t know that. You look back at him again, giving him a look. “But I swear, I will not tell anyone.” There are few glances being shared between them, but yours was still on him. “I didn’t call the police…”

There is a pull at the corner of his plump lips, not even blinking as he looks into your eyes and you find yourself being mesmerized. “Of course not.” His tone is teasing and you again nervously exhale through your nose.

“What do you want?” You ask that question finally being spoken. “Just please don’t hurt me or my friends, they don’t know anything, no one—“

“A dance…” Your breath hitched at that, gazing at his lips and how each syllable roll out his tongue. You are completely left speechless. “Give us a dance and it will be as if nothing happened.”

Your lips are left parted in disbelief, eyes flickering over the whole table as you thought only of it as a joke, but none of them had a smile of amusement on their faces. You can’t believe that they really meant it. Something stabs you in the heart. It is way too easy, you have caught them in the act, they should end you like you expected. The fact that they are confident enough to know you won’t go and tell anyone after this is really making your blood boil. However they are right…you won’t tell anyone. You will pay for what you saw with just a dance, but you know that they will still keep an eye on you. You are not smart enough to take them down, you are just a girl.

Your breathing becomes leveled, seeing that they don’t have any intention to hurt you. You look up from the table to the leader who sighs through his nose heavily and even from here you can see his muscles in his legs jumping when he spreads his legs just a little wider. You can’t help but think how he would look at you if you would dance on his lap. You instantly feel heat spreading across your cheekbones, looking away from his bottom half to his face. This expression is different from any other and you are not so sure what it meant, but it sure made you bashfully look away.

“Oh…she’s shy—“ A cat like man teases and you shoot him a glare, only to receive a smile of pure amusement.

“How cute.” Coos another, the same one that had greeted you to the table. You momentarily turn to look at him, only seeing him looking at man in the center. “Maybe you should take her somewhere private.” Your heart beats faster, eyes widening. “We already have plenty here.” The dark haired man mentions to the stage and you didn’t even realize that the stage was already full of dancers. You want to open your mouth again and scream for help, but you know better than that.

You hear him move first, the leather of the booth squealing under him as he suddenly appears right in front of you. You gasp softly in shock, you didn’t even notice him making his way to you. You look up at him, just in eyes level with his chest. “How’s that sweetheart?” He almost sounds soft, however his eyes shined with fire looking down at you with his bottom lip caught in his mouth.

You sigh, nodding in shame. He doesn’t say anything else, waving his hand in the air, making the bodyguard let go of you. You stumble slightly, but you are quick enough to jump away from the hands trying to catch you. You do not need him touching you with those hands right now. You don’t look at him, looking down at his feet instead that turn to the direction of the private rooms. Your heart is in your throat, but something told you there’s no reason for you to be so scared. If he wanted to hurt, he would’ve done it a long time ago.

You wipe away your already dried tears, eyes falling on the stage and your eyes momentarily met with one of the dancers, Nina. She has to stay in character all the time, but she still gives you a quick reassuring look. You are only left confused, wobbling your way behind the man. Are you scared or nervous? You are really starting to wonder, piercing holes into his back that rips with every move of his arms. You keep your distance, watching him push a curtain to one of the rooms away and then turning around to let you in first. Your mouth opens again, like a fish. There is a small sneer at your lips as you glance at him and he gives you a raise of his eyebrow in return.

You hold your breath when you pass by him, but you still get a whiff of his strong cologne. He is close to you, so close that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. You shiver turning to look back at him, but he is already in front of you. You stand in the middle of the lightly lit room, eyes going to the booth that sat at the corner of the small room. There is a pole in the middle of it and your mouth dries out when he makes his way to that direction. Your legs start to shake at the thought of the pole between your thighs, not so sure if it was from fright or pure excitement. You can’t lie that you haven’t thought of also dancing, but you are not sure you if you could even look half as good as those girls on the stage.

Weight is lifted from your shoulders when he comes to the table to only pull out a chair for himself. He moves the chair so smoothly, twirling it in his hand to place it before you. You hate that you are somehow mesmerized by his movements and the way he goes to sit down on the chair. You don’t even register biting on your lip, but it is mostly from how nervous you are. The man pulls his pants up to his lower region to be more comfortable and your eyes fall into that direction with wide eyes.

“I like the dress.” He breaks the silence, while spreading out his legs. Two or three more buttons on his shirt are undone, maybe popping from the size of his muscular chest. You quickly snap back to present, fingers playing with the hem of your dress at his statement, watching him slowly trail his brown eyes down your body. “Not so sure about the shoes…” Your silent question about that statement is answered rather quickly as he without breaking eye contact bends over, hand going under the booth. You can’t believe you are still getting shocked after all that happened, but it sure is surprised to you when he pulls out your beloved Jimmy Choo heels. “Put them on for me, baby.”

Something hot pools in your lower tummy at the nickname, your heart already is beating so fast that you can hear it in your ears. You don’t want to thank him for such thing, but it still made you happy. Those shoes became something very special to you as they were the first ever pair of luxury heels you bought. You catch his eyes and without word you pull your legs up to untie your way cheaper heels.

They are thrown across the room, not really caring too much at the moment as you slowly make your way to him. He holds your shoes for you take and when you stand in front of them, you definitely don’t remember them being so clean. They are shining, like brand new, but there is still that one large scratch at the pointed tip. It reminds you of the scar that the man before you has in some way.

You are close to him, the closest you have been so far and the soft orange light hitting his face makes him look devilish. Taking your shoes from him, you step back slightly to put them on, not missing how his eyes fall to your cleavage when you bend over. He licks his lips, looking you up and down again and you wonder if he likes what he is seeing. “Now, dance for me.” He demands and you remember at his tone who this man really is. “No need to be so scared…you take tips right?” The smirk adoring his lips told you that his words were meant for something else and you finally scoffed at him.

He doesn’t look offended by the sound, only pushing his body down further. You follow the movement, but your head rolls to look at the cushion ceiling right after. You feel nothing, but weak, swaying your hips softly to the beat of the music to get in the mood. You could imagine someone else in the chair, but how? You can feel him, smell him even, head falling down in exhaustion from even trying.

You roll your body the same way you have seen the dancers do it, hands caressing over your hips. If you give him a good enough dance, it would be over sooner — or he on the other hand won’t get enough. The shot of tequila in your system helps you build confidence when you walk slowly to him. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, even challenging you with his intense stare. You think you are starting to get into it as you act like you are falling over, just to smack your hands on each side of his chair. Your knees touch his, the material of his pants tickling your naked skin. Then you shiver — your eyes widened at your own body responding like that. He watches your inner struggle, head hanging low to catch your gaze. You are surprised that he didn’t look down, keeping his eyes only on yours and you straightened up at that.

When you go push your breasts back into your dress, because they almost spilled over, you almost gasp. Your nail hits plastic right between your breasts and thankfully the sound is masked by the music. It was your pepper spray, you completely forgot about putting it there. You know that it’s stupid, but he seems a little hazy and your attack would be unexpected. If you would spray him with it, then hit him with something and dash out the back door, you could call the police.

You move slowly around him, hand falling between your breasts the moment you stop behind him. However just as you pull it out, ready to turn around and spray it in his face, his hand stops you. You gasp at the strong grip on your wrist, watching him stand up from his seat to press you against the table. “Now what is this?” He asks you, eyes going to your pepper spray that falls to the ground with a heavy sound. Your mouth opens and closes, heavy breaths mixing with his from his close proximity. “You really thought you could take me out with that?” You didn’t even know that he knew about it the moment you had bend over.

His chest is pressed against yours, each hand being pinned down to the table by his. He towers over you slightly as he maneuvered you on the table a little bit. You are silent for a second, eyes going over his face. Even if there’s no smile you can see the amusement reflecting in his eyes. “You can’t touch me, the policy here—“ Are your words, because you couldn’t think of saying anything else. You again put yourself in the hands of death.

“I know the policy.”

“Then you know, you can’t touch—“

“The dancers and the waitresses?” He finishes for you, smiling down at you. “Baby…I know the rules, I made them after all.” You look at him bewildered, your expression fading into thin air when he puts his head into the dip between your shoulder and neck. “Now we will rewrite them for my and yours benefit.” Every word bounces off your skin, chills going down your spine.

You shutter, feeling him press his nose into the skin behind your ear. “This club is not yours.” You whisper, not too harshly like you intended too.

His hum vibrates on your skin, hearing him take a deep breath of your spicy perfume. “Have you seen the owner?” He asks you.

You pull your head away to look at him in the eyes. He sounded so genuine and you could even see it. Your mind quickly comes back to your first day here — you got the job few days after the interview and you remember that no owner shook your hand and congratulated you, it was actually Cathy. Your eyes widened, shaking your head in disbelief. “How? How can anyone not know about this?” You breathe out.

He can tell who you are referring to, because he lets his people look over the files of new people. His friends go here way frequently than him, but when Changbin chased after you yesterday, he immediately recognized you. Such a coincidence that you are actually already work for him. Watching you through the one way window, he couldn’t believe himself that he didn’t see you sooner. You are shining and seeing you talk with his best people in this business, he just had to have you. “Some do, trust me.” He says, his mind wandering to their sponsors. “Some of them just don’t have the balls to do anything about it and tell me why would anyone want to close down the best strip club in the city?” He laughs shortly, pulling you closer to him. “Do you know that cops come here? It’s funny really, they are so close yet so far…”

You are breathing heavily form his words, but you do not move away from him. You want to justify yourself that he was simply too strong, even if his hold was on the softer side. “Bang Chan…”It comes out as a plea and you don’t even know for what yourself.

“Call me, Chris.”

You are shocked by him revealing his name to you, because it almost sounded like a promise. Your mouth is left gaping when you see him lowering his lips to your neck. Your pulse is pressing against your skin and it jumps when his lips just barely graze over the thin layer of skin. It burns, so much that you feel by it in your stomach. “You won’t get away with this.” You say. You tried so hard to sound intimidating, but you just can’t think straight when he presses kisses on your neck.

“Oh, really?” Humming, he suddenly bites down your neck and you gasp wildly at such bold move.

“Please—“ You say, breathlessly, his name just at the tip of your tongue.

He stops at your word, turning back to you with glassy eyes. “Please, what?” His voice is rough and on the edge.

You think about what exactly you are pleading for. For him to continue or stop immediately? Something in between. Your desire is making you blind. This man before you is a criminal, a bad person you want to say, so why does his touch feel so good? “Please…don’t.” Your mind answers for you, your heart screaming the other.

“Don’t?” He repeats after you and you firstly think that he sounded offended, but then you feel his hand on your thigh. You almost whimper at his hot touch, eyes going down to his hand moving up your soft skin. You don’t make a move to stop him, your mind clouded by the way his hand perfectly fit in the dip of your upper thigh. You didn’t even feel your dress riding up your body, but it didn’t even matter as he still touches you through your underwear. “Then why are you soaking through?” You only sigh, feeling his fingers pressing right into your clothed clit. “I can see your pussy from here.” There goes another one of his smiles, eyes flying from your dripping center to yours.

“You are a bad person…” You say, voice too little.

His hand stops, but the same pressure on your cunt stays the same. “Says who? The police?” He raises his eyebrow, almost spitting that last word.

“You killed someone.”

He nods, becoming cold for a second. “Yes, but do you even know why?” You are silent, watching his face scrunch up in what seem like disgust. “That man was a bad person who definitely deserved something worse than death.”

You breathe out heavily. “So you think you are good person, because you killed a bad person and not a good one?”

“You said I’m a good person?” Goosebumps appear on your body, but not so much from fear anymore. Arousal drips out of you, his fingers pulling the material of your lace underwear to the side. You let him willingly, even eagerly. He gave you a moment to make a choice, but you only watch him with hazy eyes while he runs his pointer finger through your slick. “Though…I’m a gentleman.”

You snicker, you just can’t help it. “Oh, really? What about the hand in my panties?” His finger joins another for an answer, pressing harder and unexpectedly flicking your clit.

A brutal, filthy moan falls from your lip and he drinks it right up, playing with your clit between his two fingers. “Are you saying you don’t like this?” He sounds dreamy and you are on the edge of losing your mind over him. He lowers his head, resting it on your shoulder, plump lips right next to your ear. “I think you like the danger—“ You bite your lip not to let him hear the nasty sounds coming from the back of your throat. “—the thought of someone powerful taking over you, it excites you.”

You shake your head, your earring only being caught between his teeth. “You are just a man–“ You say, gritting your teeth in pleasure.

Your eyes are closed, but his are fully on you. “I’m, so excuse me for doing this—“ His finger suddenly breaches your hole and with no resistance what so ever.

You gasp out, your hand shooting to his. Only a one finger and he finds the spots inside you that you have trouble finding yourself. Your eyes open, head rolling to your other shoulder to look at him. He stills his hand for a second to straighten his back, watching you, trying to see if there is any hint that you want him to stop. However you only look at him with glossy eyes, red painted lips puffing out in small sighs. He can’t help himself, putting another finger inside you, curling them, pushing into the soft spot.

You whimper, feeling yourself dripping all over of his hand. “Please, I don’t know…” Your body knows — it’s already screaming just from his fingers and when your hips jump, your thigh touches his hard cock through his pants.

“I do.” He trusts his fingers in and out of you in steady yet too slow pace for your liking. “Just look at your body responding to me—“ You can see it yourself. Your body didn’t feel like yours anymore, hips bumping into his. “I still want that dance…a real dance.” He says, voice cracking at the end when he pulls his fingers out of you.

Gasp leaves you from shock and dissatisfaction. You stand before him, leaning on the table with rigid breaths. Lips parted, he looked at it like an invitation to shove his fingers in your mouth. You choke around his fingers for a second, eyes wide and staring into his, before your hand wraps around his to help you keep your sanity. You moan at your own taste, sucking at his fingers and slurping your juices and the taste of skin right up, eyes never leaving his and at that moment you realize you are in deep shit — there’s no way you can stop here.

He pulls his fingers away from you way too quickly, catching how his knuckles are stained red from your lipstick. You watch him walk backwards into the chair, not breaking eye contact when he falls into it, spreading his legs just like before, but now you don’t have to hide how much you enjoy seeing him do that. You hop off the table not even smoothing down your dress or putting your underwear back to its place. You can already feel your slick coating your inner thighs with each slow step, pressing them together to ease the ache between them.

You can’t beat yourself for behaving like this. That man is a whole course meal. Pretty, sparkling eyes hidden by his hair, flushed cheeks, bitten lips and also dangerous — you will dance for him and you won’t hold back. You feel possessed, mind clouded by arousal when you stop before him, right leg shooting up to balance your weight on the armrest of his chair. He groans lowly at your bold move, eyes going up your naked leg to your exposed cunt. “Look at you…” Before he could get a better look you, you put your leg down.

He is impressed by your change of character, letting you run your hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders. You want to moan at the muscles jumping under your touch, but then pretty nose pokes at the inside of your wrist, making short pain shoot up your body and you only now notice the small bruise on your skin. “Did he hurt you?” He asks, looking up at you.

His voice got lower, expression serious for a second. “A little bit.” You answer simply, too occupied with moving to the rhythm of the music.

The man in the chair forgets about it rather quickly as you turn around, bending over. Another, but even lower groan with hiss at the end leaves him at the view. “Yeah, that’s it bend over for me…” Curse flies out his mouth, hands gripping at the chair tightly to not just shove you into his cock right then and there. He almost drools over the swell of your ass peeking from the bottom of your dress and your panties that are dangerously melting into your cunt. He can see everything, but it isn’t enough. “I think, I have to hire you again as a dancer.”

You laugh breathlessly and then cry out when he smacks you unexpectedly across the back of your right thigh. You feel the sting and you are certain your skin will be sore tomorrow, but the pleasure that comes right after the slap is definitely worth it. “Turn around for me.” You wordlessly do as he says and you then shock yourself by just falling to your knees before him instead, however you are thankfully that you did, because the view you have is simply delicious. His hand comes to caress your face, fingers hooking under your jaw to press his thumb to your bottom lip. “Such pretty lips, think you could use them for better purpose than telling me I’m a bad person?”

“You basically said that yourself.” You fire back breathing matching his, your hands falling to his knees and you swear you see his cock jump in his pants.

“After I’m done with you, I will be the best person you have ever met.” His words are softer than expected, but the way he puts his thumb in your mouth isn’t. Your eyes momentarily close to savor the taste of his salty skin and he looks at you like he never seen anything so beautiful. “Say my name.” He gasps out, the sound hanging over the edge of being a pathetic whine.

Your eyes open, pulling out his thumb from your lips with a pop. “Chris.” You whisper, nervously playing with the waistband of his pants. How can you have such an effect on him already?

Chris lets you undone his belt and then his zipper, the crisp sound louder than the pumping music. Your mouth waters from the prominent buldge in his underwear, heart hammering against your chest. You can’t believe you are about to suck off the most dangerous man in the city — yet nothing ever felt so right to you. Your shaking fingers pull the material down, him putting his hands on yours in small reassurance. Now you only want him more.

You are again left speechless when you see the yummy, short patch of public hair and his cock slapping against his abdomen. Chris hisses at the cold air hitting his flushed, red tip, few drops of precum rolling down the length of it. Your pussy throbs painfully, pressing your thighs together at the simple view of his thickness. Maybe that is why he keeps sitting like that, to hide something like this everyday must be challenging, but now it will be your pleasure.

You don’t want to say it’s been a while since the last time you touched someone, but you want to say you have never seen someone this big. His ego sure comes from something. Your hand travels up his leg to pull out his heavy balls, not missing the opportunity to squeeze them lightly. Chris moans at your touch, head rolling back just by that. He looks so sensitive and it seems like he is. Your thumb pushes into his tip next, smearing his cum all over it, before finally wrapping your hand around him.

“Fuuuuuuck—“ Flies out his mouth, when you lean over to wrap your lips around him. You moan at his taste, rolling your tongue across his squishy yet hard cock. His hand goes to run through your hair, pushing the front strands back to see more of your pretty lipstick staining his length.

You swallow more of him, jaw hurting from the sheer thickness. Your eyes water, but you just have to look at him, moaning around him as you do so. You think have never felt this much pleasure from just pleasuring someone. The look on his face, his rising chest, sweat coating his neck…You gag when he presses you down further and even if he groans in pleasure, he doesn’t go further than that. On the other hand he pushes your head up and then back down, letting you get used to him using your mouth for its own pleasure.

The ground is stained with your juices, groans and moans from both of you echoing around the room and mixing with the music. You feel every vein on his cock pulsating, sucking on them harder to get closer and under his skin. When your nose hits the few hairs on his stomach you gargle, spit rolling out of your mouth. You are at that immediately pulled back from him, coughing wildly. “Sorry about that.” He says, not sounding too concern as he looks at your tear stained face mixed with saliva and his cum.

You nod, licking at your lips and that makes him tug at the roots of your hair. You whine at his rough manners, standing up just to be shoved into the table again with his hand in your hair helping you move around. Without a word you hop on to it, bare ass landing on the cold plastic. “Chris…” Just like him you are starting to like the way his names sounds on your lips. When you call out his name, he finally pulled down his pants and underwear, stepping between your open legs. He is dazed by the sight of his cock resting on your clothed mound, but you win his attention back with your sultry voice. You look like pure sin and with the small amount of red lipstick left on your lips he has to have it on his.

His hand in our hair softens when his lips fall onto yours. Chris can taste the hint of wax layer on your lips as well as his own musk on your tongue. You feel on cloud nine just by the way he kisses you. He kissed with so much passion that it felt like you have known each other for years. His lips are simply heavenly and sinfully delicious. “Hmm— fuck me…” Your words are swallowed by his lips, but he can feel them vibrating in his mouth.

Chris pulls away from you, not without biting on your bottom lip. “What was that?” You want to roll your eyes at his teasing tone, but only whimper instead when he puts the tip of his cock over your covered clit.

Your hips jump wildly, him holding them down with just one of his hand. “Fuck me, Chris—“ You say, lips on his throat and biting down on his Adam’s apple that bobbles up and down at your plea. He finally lets go, pulling your bottom half to him closer, your ass sliding and squeaking over the table. You watch him go down to his knees, but you quickly stop him even if the thought of him eating you out sounded nice, you want him inside of you more. “No, just fuck me–“

He looks up at you with big eyes and if you didn’t know his reputation you would say that those were the best puppy eyes you have ever seen. He wants to argue with you, tell you that he should prep you so he doesn’t hurt you, but he realizes that’s exactly what you want. You want him to fuck you so hard that his cock makes a mold inside your pussy. Pulling your right leg up, you push him forward, your pelvis meeting his. You whimper at the feeling of him between your legs, sweat already gathering across your forehead and you moan in delight when he pulls your soaked underwear to the side.

When Chris slides his cock through your folds to coat himself in your slick, he basically loses his mind. He never had pussy this dripping wet, pretty clit swollen and pulsating with every push of his hips. “You are beautiful.” He compliments you sweetly, hand holding his cock to your entrance, but not with caressing your face in his other hand first. You whimper, tummy full of butterflies from his comment. He has such a way with words and also that body of his — so good.

Your breath is knocked out of your lungs when he slides his hard cock into you. Your walls stretch around him, hungrily sucking him right him. It burns a little, legs shaking just from the feeling of him inside of you. Your heel doesn’t even touch the ground, shoe falling down on the ground while the other stays on as he kisses your neck. He licks and bites to kill the time, while he lets you adjust around him. You feel him sucking at your neck, creating purple blotches on your delicate skin. You eagerly run your fingers through his open shirt, clenching down on him when you feel pure muscles.

Chris hisses again, kissing down your collarbones, hips jumping into yours and you both groan when his mushroom tip kisses your cervix. When you clench again, it makes him slowly roll his hips again and he finally feels you relaxing in his strong hold. The way he moves makes your think he must be a dancer himself, because you are already feeling the sweet taste of your release. You both start to breath heavier, air becoming thick and hot around you the more he picks up his speed.

You whimper, almost sob, because you need more of him and just like he could read your thoughts he pulls his head away from your skin to kiss you. “Hold on, baby.” You only hum, letting him guide you to lean back, watching him pull your left leg over his shoulder. Your hand wraps around the pole next to your head and you are thankful that you do, because he immediately starts to trust in to you with roughness and precision.

You can’t help but squeal, crying from the shocks of pleasure as his hips snaps roughly into yours, filling you to the hilt with his cock. Your other leg shots up in reflex, pulling it to your chest. The way he fucks is anything but gentle, but it is all that you wished for. His pelvis hits the bottom of your thighs in loud slaps, pubic hair bumping deliciously into your clit. You fall back, not strong enough to hold yourself up anymore, only strong enough to take it. “Fuck, Chris!” Your voice doesn’t even sound like yours anymore.

The air is knocked out of you with each trust and he literally growls at the sound his name. Every time his hips snap into yours, your tits jump out of your dress and he couldn’t wonder any longer. Chis pushes roughly the material down and to his delight you didn’t have any bra on. His hands leave your hips just to grab your breasts, smushing them together. You moan as he pinches and rolls your nipples, whining loudly when he leans over you. It makes your legs press flush to your chest, his one hand falling next to your head to hover over your body while the other wraps around the pole right to yours.

“Fuck, I don’t think you can work here anymore—“ You clit is being bullied by his rolling hips, eyes becoming blurry, making it hard to see his. He helps you by squishing your cheeks between his fingers, making your lips pout cutely. “You will dance for me, only me from now on. What do you say, baby?”

His words are slightly hard to make out with the noises of skin slapping mixing with them, but even with your fucked out mind you could understand enough. You are drunk on him, spit coating his hand that falls back next to your head, seeing you are listening to him. “Are tips included?” You say, voice rough, nails biting at his shoulders.

“Oh, you will be taking the whole thing.”

You both smile breathlessly at each other, him not stopping fucking you, because seeing your pretty face screwing up in pleasure is to die for. Your sweaty hand slips from the pole and without realizing yourself, you put his face into the palm of your hand. Looking into his eyes, you see something flash in them when your fingers dance across the scar on his face. And then Chris whines — he fucking whines, like a broken puppy.

You clench around him at the sound and he only gives you another. “Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum inside of you, baby—“ He humms, grunting under his breath.

You already feel yourself falling over the edge, holding it just to make it better by cumming with him. “ Yeah, please, I want it.” You say.

“Yeah? You want it? Right here?” Chris pulls himself up enough to push his hand down on your lower stomach. You cry out, shaking like a leaf, because that is setting a whole fire inside of you. “Look, you can even see me in your cute, little tummy—“ He coos at your faces of pleasure. His hips shutter and yours jump. You try to calm your body down, but he is doing things you have never felt before. When the hand holding him up disappears, the one on your tummy pushes harder and when starts to do figure eights on your clit you are officially done for. “Cum for me, soak my cock, Y/N—“

You gasp loudly at the sound of your name rolling out of his tongue, back arching as you cum around him. Your pussy leaks, making a creamy ring of your pleasure around the base of his cock. Your whole body shakes right after the first wave, tits jumping in the air and the sight as well as the feeling of you cumming around him makes him shove his cock into your cunt the deepest he has been so far. Your ears ring, not even hearing yourself sobbing, but you do hear his moans of absolute pleasure. He stuffs you full, hand still pushing at your tummy and you whimper at the overstimulation, skin sticky with all sorts of fluids.

At this moment you hated Chan to the fullest.

That he knew you so well and used that to his advantage right now was proving to be a problem, because it made you remember how easy you could be because of him and although deep down you loved it, you wanted to convince yourself otherwise.

You were in the tranquility of your apartment, enjoying a day without work, without pressure, without stress; catching up on a series that you had recently started, one of those thrillers that hooks you until the end, although they always follow the same predictable pattern. The couch enveloped you like a lazy hug, the remote in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. Until you got a message. From Chan.

You knew you were going to see him today; He always kept you in the loop on his day and right now he was at the gym, going about his daily routine like clockwork.

*Photo*

Just a damn photo, no text. He knew it wasn't necessary. The muscles tense under the fluorescent light of the gym, the veins marked in his arms as he sat, in that casual pose that screamed provocation. It made you feel a treacherous warmth rising up your belly, reminding you exactly why you always gave in. Because right now you'd give anything to be between his legs, kneeling, surrendering to that control that drove him so crazy.

Damn it. Damn Chan.

If he wanted to play this, two could do it. You weren't going to sit idly by. You quickly got up from the couch, throwing the blanket over who knows where, and headed to your room with a racing pulse. You took off those ridiculous old comfortable pijamas you were wearing, along with the soft, furry socks you loved for walking around the house. You opened the part of the closet where you kept some of his clothes and took one of his t-shirts, the one that fit you like a loose dress.

You got rid of everything: pijamas and underwear. You just put on his T-shirt, feeling the soft fabric brush against your bare skin, impregnated with its smell. You looked in the mirror: the curves hinted under the garment, the legs exposed, ready to fight back. Now it was his turn to suffer a little.

You sat in bed, in front of the mirror in the closet, and tried various poses, trying to be provocative. You didn't know whether to start by showing him everything directly or be subtle, but if there was one thing you were clear about, it was that you wanted to make him lose his mind. Your skin bristled under your shirt, the fresh air brushing against your exposed legs, as you imagined his reaction – that hungry look he gave when he saw you like this, vulnerable but in control.

In the end, the first photo you sent him was you sitting on the bed, with your legs spread but one arm resting in the center, covering just enough with the edge of his shirt. An "innocent" shot that promised more. You sent it to him and, of course, he did not take long to answer:

Wow, I see that someone looks good on my clothes.

His message made you smile mischievously, the phone vibrating in your hand like a shared secret. You knew he was at the gym, probably sweating and now distracted by your photo, imagining yourself like this in his shirt. The heat in your belly intensified, an insistent pulse between your legs that made you move restlessly on the bed.

You decided to up the ante. You settled in a little more, raising the hem of his shirt just enough to hint at the curve of your hips, and took another photo: this time, with one hand fiddling with the hem, your eyes fixed on the camera as if you were looking directly at it.

Just testing if it looks better on me with nothing underneath

You wrote to him, attaching the image. Your heart was pounding, anticipating his response.

It wasn't even a minute before he arrived:

Fuck, baby. Are you trying to kill me in the middle of training? Keep it up and I'm going straight home right now.

Those words lit you up even more, a shiver of power running through you. If he wanted control, you were going to take it away a little bit. You leaned back against the pillows, sliding a hand between your legs under the shirt – not touching anything yet, just hinting at movement. You took the photo: the hand disappearing under the fabric, the legs slightly open, your expression a mixture of feigned innocence and pure desire.

Maybe I've already started without you

But you didn't stop there. Right after, you recorded a short audio: a soft, breathy moan, followed by a hoarse whisper.

Chan… I can't wait any longer. Come and finish it yourself.

You sent it out, imagining how it would get straight to your headphones at the gym.

On the other side, Chan felt the immediate impact. He was finishing his set of dumbbells when the audio vibrated in his ears, your moan sending a surge of heat straight into his crotch. Fuck. His cock hardened instantly, betraying his usual control. He looked around, the crowded gym, and had to move quickly to the locker room, adjusting his shorts surreptitiously so that no one would notice. He leaned against a wall, taking a deep breath, but he couldn't stop listening to her over and over again. You, moaning his name. It was pure torture.

Still, Chan was the king of control. He was not going to give in so easily. He replied with a voice message, his tone low and dominant, although you could see the edge of desire in his voice:

Baby, do you think you can start without me? Keep touching yourself, but don't finish. I want to see you on the edge when I arrive.

Then, a quick text:

I'm on my way. Keep that hand where it is.

The message left you gasping, your hand pressing harder against yourself, the game now on its terms. You knew that when it came, it was going to make you pay for every second of provocation – and you couldn't wait. But you weren't going to stay in bed; You wanted him to see you as soon as you entered, that the impact was immediate. You got up, your legs trembling with pent-up desire, and moved into the living room. You settled on the couch, pulling your shirt up to your waist, leaving everything exposed to the fresh air of the room. Legs spread, one hand resting lazily on your thigh, waiting. The pulse between your legs was insistent, your excitement evident in every heartbeat.

Then, you heard the sound of the door code – that familiar beep announcing its arrival. Your heart raced further, a rush of adrenaline mixed in anticipation, causing your chest to rise and fall rapidly. The door clicked open, and there was Chan, bursting into the room without pause. He hadn't showered or changed; He was still wearing gym clothes – tight shorts, sweaty T-shirt clinging to his defined torso, the smell of exertion and cologne permeating the air. His tousled hair, beads of sweat pearling his skin, and that look of pure hunger in his eyes when he saw you.

He stood in front of you, his breathing heavy and ragged, as if the drive from the gym wasn't enough to calm him down. His eyes went straight down to you, to your exposed center, glowing with the moisture of your desire under the soft light of the living room.

"Fuck, baby…", he murmured, his voice hoarse and deep, the bulge in his shorts evident as he devoured you with his gaze. He didn't move at first, just watching you, letting the tension build – his grip still intact, but about to break. You looked back at him, defiant and anxious, knowing that this was just the beginning.

Chan stepped forward, kneeling slowly between your legs, his hands rough from training resting on your thighs.

"You've been a bad girl, starting without me…" he said with that lopsided smile, leaning over to brush his lips against your inner skin, him hot breath against you. "Now, let me finish what you started."

Without further ado, he threw himself at you with ravenous desperation, as if he hadn't eaten in days. His mouth closed over your pussy shamelessly, licking and sucking greedily, his tongue tracing quick circles around your clit as he moaned against you, vibrations sending waves of pleasure all over your body. He slipped two fingers into your vagina all at once, mercilessly, fucking you with a brutal rhythm that made you arch your back against the couch.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me" he growled between licks, his fingers curving to hit that tender spot inside you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

You gasped, your hands tangling in his sweaty hair, tugging at it as the pleasure built up like a storm. Your pussy tightened around his fingers, orgasm approaching fast, desperate. 

"Chan... Please...", you begged, pulling harder at his hair, your body trembling to the edge.

I wasn't going to let you fall so easily. Feeling how you squeezed it, how your body tensed, it jerked away – mouth and fingers coming out with a wet, obscene sound. He closed your legs firmly, his hands like pincers on your thighs, and turned you around with ease, putting you on all fours on the sofa. Your torso sank into the cushions, your ass pulled up toward him, exposed and vulnerable. He continued to kneel behind you, without getting up, and yanked off his sweaty shirt, revealing his defined, shiny torso. Then, he pulled down his shorts just enough to free himself, his hard cock jumping free, thick and throbbing with anticipation.

He held your legs together, squeezed tightly between his knees, wanting everything to feel even narrower, more intense.

"I want to feel you squeeze me like you're mine just for this" he muttered hoarsely, desperately, rubbing the head of his cock against your wet vagina up and down. He would get wet with your juices, sliding down your entrance, brushing your with each pass, torturing you with the promise of more. You moaned, pushing your hips back, begging silently, but he controlled the beat, his heavy breathing revealing his own desperation – cock beating against you, trembling hands on your hips.

Finally, he could not take it anymore. With an animalistic growl, he sank into you with a deep lunge, your tight pussy enveloping him like a vice thanks to the legs together.

"Shit, baby… so fucking tight" he gasped, starting to fuck you with wild, dominant thrusts, one hand on your back to keep you in position while the other tangled in your hair, pulling to arch you more. Each thrust was desperate, as if it was claiming every second of provocation, hitting deep and fast, its balls crashing into you with wet sounds. You shouted his name, the pleasure building up again, but he slowed down every time you felt the edge, denying you over and over again.

Your knees began to ache against the floor of the living room, anchored in that position by his weight and strength, but the pleasure eclipsed everything – a fire that consumed you as he fucked you mercilessly. Chan pulled harder at your hair, lifting your torso a little towards his sweaty chest, forcing you to arch more. He took advantage of the moment to put his hands under her shirt, which was still hanging crumpled around your waist, and grab your tits greedily. He kneaded them roughly, pinching the hardened nipples, his hot breath in your ear as he growled:

"You were looking forward to me smashing your pussy, right? Look at you, so wet and desperate for my cock… Tell me how much you love it, baby. Beg me not to stop."

You gasped, the words coming out between moans:

"Yes, Chan… please tear me apart… don't stop." His thrusts became more brutal, his fingers pulling on your nipples to the rhythm of his hips, pain mixed with pleasure causing your pussy to tighten around him.

But he wasn't done making you suffer. Without taking his cock out of you – keeping you impaled on it – he grabbed you from behind your arms tightly, his hands like handcuffs on your biceps. He lifted you off the couch and moved you to the floor in a fluid, commanding motion, throwing you face down under him. You felt his full weight pressing you against the carpet, his sweaty torso crushing you, his cock still sunk deep as he adjusted the position.

"Lift your ass higher, baby" he ordered in a deep, authoritative voice, his breath choked with despair. "I want to fuck you like this, bending you until you can't take it anymore."

You obeyed, raising your hips just enough so he could continue to lunge, his hips crashing against your ass with renewed strength. I was bending you completely, one hand on the back of your neck pressing your face to the ground, the other on your hip guiding the beat – deep, slow thrusts now, torturing you with denial, speeding up only to slow down when you felt orgasm approaching.

"Not yet" he muttered, biting your earlobe with a possessive bite. "You're going to suffer for every photo and every moan you sent me. I want to fuck you for hours, baby… to make you beg me for relief." His movements became a relentless sway, his cock hitting that sensitive spot inside you, sweat dripping from his body to yours, the smell of sex and effort filling the room.

You writhed beneath him, each thrust bringing you to the edge, only for him to stop, kissing your neck with a mixture of cruel tenderness before resuming.

"You're mine, all mine" he growled, speeding up again, as he fucked you harder, prolonging the delicious agony.

His thrusts became erratic, more animalistic, as if his control was breaking under raw necessity. Sweat dripped from his body onto yours, the floor beneath you becoming a slippery mess of fluids and heat.

"Fuck, baby… I'm going to cum inside you" he gasped hoarsely, his hips crashing against your ass with bestial force. "I'm going to fill you with my cum, but I'm not going to stop until I see you overflow… until you're dripping from me." A guttural growl escaped his throat as he sank one last time, deep and wild, his cock throbbing as it broke free – hot jets filling you completely, excess starting to seep in even with him still inside, his body trembling with sheer animal desperation.

He didn't stop there; It came out of you with a wet, raunchy sound, just a moment, to flip you around with a rough jerk, putting you on your back on the floor. He spread your legs open with rough hands, spreading them wide apart to expose you completely, his eyes fixed on your pussy – watching his thick white cum slowly come out of you, down your vagina to your ass, dripping onto the carpet in a puddle.

"Look at that… full of me" he murmured, his breath ragged, his cock still hard and shiny with your juices, pulsing with renewed need. He seemed mesmerized, destroyed by the sight, his control hanging by a thread.

You, knowing that this wasn't over – that it was just the beginning of more chaos – provoked it to break it completely. You brought a hand to your vagina, scooping up his hot cum with your fingers, and brought it to your mouth, licking it slowly as you looked into his eyes with feigned innocence. You groaned as you tasted it, the salty, raw taste invading your tongue.

"Mmm… so good, Chan" escaping your lips in a playful whisper. That shattered him – his eyes darkened with feral hunger, an animal growl pouring out of his chest as he watched you, his cock jumping involuntarily, ready to claim more.

It didn't take long for him to act. With a needy and brutal movement, he lifted your legs, sticking them as close to your body as possible – knees almost touching your shoulders, bending like a prey under his weight. He buried himself back in your pussy with a deep, possessive thrust, the new angle causing him to hit even deeper, your body tight and exposed for him.

"Fuck, you can't tease me like that and expect me to stop" he roared, starting to fuck you with furious thrusts, his full weight crushing you to the ground, hips colliding with wet, dirty sounds. The semen from before mixed with your moisture, lubricating everything in a slippery mess, splattering with every animal thrust.

In that position, with your legs glued to your body and him sinking so deep, your orgasm came fast – an unstoppable torrent that made you tremble, the pleasure building up like a bomb about to explode.

"Chan… please.. I can't take it anymore" you pleaded between desperate gasps, your nails digging into his skin, but he ignored your pleas, fucking harder, knowing exactly that you were going to break. The sound of water – wet splashes – resonated every time I rammed you, your juices splattering with each brutal thrust. Finally, you broke down with a cry of pure despair, your body rising from the ground in a taut arc, an explosive squirt gushing out of you like a wild release.

Chan pulled out his cock for just a second, letting the squirt wash over him, soaking its hard, shiny length, hot droplets splashing his abdomen and the floor.

"Fuck yes…," he growled with a feral smile, tapping your pussy playfully with the head of his cock, spreading the mess before sinking back into you with a possessive thrust. How he loved to make you run like this, to see you fall apart in a puddle for him. "Look what a mess you're making, you've soaked me" he muttered in a hoarse, accusing voice, letting go of your legs so they fell to the sides, limp and trembling, as he brought a hand to your throat, squeezing hard to cut off your breath just enough to intensify everything.

"I'm going to keep going until you're exhausted" he promised, his eyes burning with animal need, fucking with slow, deep thrusts that made you see stars, the thin air amplifying every sensation.

He knew that in that state of overstimulation, you cummed easily, your hypersensitive pussy contracting around him at the slightest provocation. He felt another orgasm approaching, your body betraying you with uncontrollable tremors, so without letting go of your neck, he pulled his cock out of you with a sucking sound and stuck two fingers in your vagina like crazy, fucking you with them in a frenetic and wild rhythm.

"That's it, baby, give me more… squirt for me again, wet the whole fucking floor" he would instigate you in a deep voice, his fingers curving to hit that sensitive spot, splashing juices everywhere as you broke again; Another explosive squirt, soaking his hand, his arm, the floor beneath you in a sticky, hot mess.

He didn't stop there; He stuck out his fingers only to lick them greedily, savoring your mixed essence with an animal growl:

"You know us… fuck, you drive me crazy." Then, he flipped you sideways on the ground, one leg over his shoulder for a brutal new angle, sinking back in with needy thrusts that made their balls crash into you in wet sounds.

"Keep cumming, baby… Don't stop, give me everything you have" he commanded, his hand returning to your to rub furiously, prolonging the overstim until another orgasm hit you, splashing more. He devoured every drop with his gaze, his cock throbbing inside you, vowing not to stop until you were exhausted and overflowing – a never-ending cycle of animal breakup and claim on that slippery floor.

The brutality escalated as he flipped you completely upside down again, pressing your torso into the ground, his body covering you like a beast in heat. His weight crushed you, immobilizing you completely, as his hips slammed into your ass with fierce, deep thrusts – each a blow that echoed through the living room, the floor now a swamp of juices and sweat that scraped your skin with every movement.

"Feel this, baby… There's no escaping it" he growled, one hand on the back of your head pressing your face against the soggy carpet, the other holding your hip to guide the wild thrusts. Your moans turned into muffled screams, the overstim making your pussy contract like a vice around him, but he wouldn't slow down, fucking as if his life depended on tearing you apart.

Suddenly, he took out his cock and lowered his head, sucking your pussy with a vora hunger, tongue licking and sucking the fluid mess, teeth brushing against your sensitive clit to intensify the torment.

"It breaks for me again… squirt in my mouth, wet my entire face" he demanded in a hoarse voice, his fingers joining the assault, getting three now to fuck you with a crazy and brutal rhythm that made you arch against the floor. The painful pleasure broke you again, an explosive squirt straight into his mouth, splashing his face, chest, and the floor in hot, uncontrollable jets. He swallowed it greedily, moaning like an animal: "That's it… Give me more, baby, soak it all up… look what a good girl you're being to me."

Chan sat up on his knees for a moment, his rough hands opening your buttocks firmly, exposing everything on the slippery floor.

"I think your ass wants me to tear it apart too" he muttered with a predatory smile, his cock shiny and lubricated by your juices pressing against your back entry. It sank in little by little, inch by inch, the intense, fiery stretch filling you with an overwhelming fullness – your body trembling from the slow, deliberate invasion. Just by feeling his thick cock filling your ass, the overstim pushed you to the limit again: you came with a broken moan, your pussy contracting empty as waves of pleasure shook you, splashing more juices to the floor. He smiled, watching you fall apart, and growled:

"Look how you have cummed just for having put it up your ass… you are such a needy whore for me". He kept sinking all the way to the bottom, starting to fuck you with deep, possessive thrusts, his weight crushing you again as he claimed that new territory with animal greed – each lunge making you feel every inch of it, the sweat and fluids lubricating the filthy chaos.

It didn't take long for him to climax there, him hips accelerating in a brutal rhythm:

"I'm going to fill your ass with cum, baby… it overflows with me on all sides" he gasped, sinking one last time with a guttural roar. His cock throbbed, releasing hot, thick spurts inside you, the excess seeping in and dripping down your buttocks to the floor in a sticky mess. He stayed inside for a moment, enjoying the sensation, before walking out with an obscene sound, admiring how his cum came out of your dilated ass – a sight that turned him on even more.

After cumming in your ass, Chan helped you up with steady hands but shaking from residual need, sitting on the slippery floor with your back against the couch to stabilize yourself. His still-hard and shiny cock with the mixed "mess" of cum, juices, and sweat throbbing in the air, and he grabbed her by the base with one hand, guiding her to you. With the other hand tangled in your hair, he forced you to crouch, pulling dominantly to lower you to his level.

"Clean up our mess well as you know" he commanded in a hoarse, dirty voice, a predatory smile on his lips as he lowered his head to his cock, sinking into your mouth to the bottom in a single motion. He held you there for a few seconds, choking you with his thick length – throat constricting around him, tears forming in your eyes from the brutal invasion, the salty and raw taste of your fluids invading your tongue.

"Fuck, yes… Suck it all in, baby, swallow our chaos" he growled, his hips thrusting lightly to facefuck you with short, controlled thrusts, holding your head in place with the grip in your hair. He would pull out just to let you breathe for a second, saliva and cum dripping from your mouth onto the floor, before sinking back in – deeper, rougher, forcing you to lick every inch as his hand at the base guided the pace.

"Look at you, choking on my cock. You're perfect for this, baby, clean every last drop." He alternated between keeping you at the bottom (drowning in waves of painful pleasure) and letting yourself be sucked greedily, his other hand now on the back of your neck pressing deeper, instigating more overstim as your body trembled with exhaustion. "Swallow… ", he demanded, his animal moans echoing as he used you, prolonging the oral torment on that sticky floor.

The pace intensified, his thrusts in your mouth becoming more erratic and needy, his grip on the hair tightening as he approached the limit once again.

"Fuck, baby… I'm going to in your mouth… swallow all I have left" he gasped, sinking deep one last time with a guttural growl. His cock throbbed, releasing a small but hot load – thick, salty spurts that filled your mouth, the intense taste of his exhaustion after so many rounds. He held you there, forcing you to swallow, before pulling out with a wet pop, throwing his head back against the couch, exhausted, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, eyes closed in a moment of total surrender.

Then, he sat up for a moment, his gaze now soft and full of adoration, contrasting with the previous brutality. He pulled you toward him gently, wrapping one strong arm around your waist to stick to his sweaty body, while with the other he brought his hand to your cheeks, cradling them tenderly. He kissed you like crazy – lips devouring yours in a deep, passionate kiss, tongue exploring with a mixture of residual urgency and overwhelming affection.

"You've done so well, baby… so good" he murmured against your mouth between kisses, his voice hoarse but soft, the shared exhaustion wrapping them in an exhausted embrace on that chaotic floor. 

@little-mix-fan-forever @emeraldgem22 @honeyyyy21 @doliveiraa @blackbrumous @ stellasays45 @iconicallyher @nebugalaxy @ karlee10261990

The call failed again. He tried multiple times. Then he typed out frantic messages that he knew you’d not reply, but he texted you anyway.

Future Mrs. Bahng 💋

Baby, please answer me

I know I don’t deserve it but please just let me explain

I’m sorry, please give me one last chance.

I’m begging you

Chan started crying again for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. When he felt his legs beginning to numb, only then he stood up and sat on the edge of the bed you once shared, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Every memory attacked him at once—your smile when he came home exhausted, the way you stole his hoodies so they smelled like you, the quiet nights where you held him when the world felt too loud.

He had protected his idol image with iron walls, but he had never protected you and now you were gone.

He called again and again. And again. All of the calls went straight to voicemail.

At some point, desperation replaced dignity, so he got out of both of your shared apartment and started his car. He drove to your sister’s place first, but she was confused as to what happened, Chan couldn’t tell her due to the shame. Then he drove to your best friend’s apartment. 

“She doesn’t want to see you,” your friend said firmly, arms crossed in the doorway. “And honestly? You should respect that.”

The door closed before he could answer.

For the first time in years, Chan cried in public—head bowed, shoulders shaking, because the world finally knew what you had always carried quietly.

When he returned home, the apartment was darker than before. He went to your shared bedroom and then finally picked up the ring with trembling fingers, his chest tightened and his knees gave out. He sank to the floor, clutching the ring like it might disintegrate if he held it too tightly. Every apology he had practiced felt useless now. 

Inside his head, all he could hear was the echo of the door slamming shut. You had truly left him and this time, no amount of begging could bring you back.

Three days passed and when Chan still didn’t show up at the studio, his members grew worried. 

At first, the members assumed he was sick or maybe he just needed rest because Chan had missed studios before—rarely, but it happened. But three days with no calls returned, no texts read, no late-night voice memo explaining himself?

That wasn’t Chan.

Minho was the first to say it out loud.

“He’s not answering,” he muttered, phone pressed to his ear for the fifth time. “This isn’t normal.”

Changbin frowned. “He hasn’t even sent revisions. Hyung doesn’t disappear like this.”

Hyunjin hovered nearby, worry etched into his face. “Should we go check on him?”

Minho didn’t hesitate. “I’m driving.”

They drove to his place in silence. Minho unlocked the door with the spare key, already calling out for Chan. “Hyung?”

The smell of stale alcohol, unwashed clothes, something sour and heavy in the air hit them first. The living room was a mess. Empty bottles littered the floor and coffee table. Clothes were strewn everywhere. The curtains were drawn shut, trapping the dim light inside like the apartment hadn’t seen daylight in days.

Then they saw him.

Chan was sitting on the floor, back against the couch, shoulders hunched. Photographs were scattered around him—printed pictures, old polaroids, ones he must have dug out from drawers he hadn’t opened in years.

Pictures of you, pictures of you with him. He clutched one to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him breathing.

Minho froze. “What the hell happened here?”

Chan looked up slowly, like it took effort just to register their presence. His eyes were red and swollen, his face blotchy from crying. His lip trembled, and suddenly the words spilled out in a broken rush.

“I messed up,” he sobbed. “I messed up big. Please—please help me.”

Changbin crouched down instinctively, panic flashing across his face. “Hyung, what did you do?”

Hyunjin placed a hand on Chan’s shoulder. “Hyung… talk to us.”

It took a long time before Chan could say it. And when he finally did, his voice was barely recognizable.

“I don’t deserve— I don’t—” He sucked in a breath that sounded painful. “I cheated.”

The room went cold.

Minho straightened immediately, his expression hardening in a way Changbin rarely saw. Changbin’s face fell, disbelief quickly giving way to something sharper—something disappointed. Hyunjin’s hand dropped from Chan’s shoulder.

“You did what?” Minho asked quietly.

Chan covered his face with his hands, shaking. “I ruined everything. I lost her. She won’t even look at me anymore.”

Minho’s jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. “You cheated,” he repeated flatly. “On your fiancée.”

Chan swallowed, eyes glossy. “After the LA show, remember how we all went to grab a few drinks?”

They all nodded quietly.

“I was drunk and out of my mind. She was one of the venue staff and it just… it just happened. I thought I could bury it. Pretend it never existed.” His voice cracked again. “But she… she reached out and told me that she’s… pregnant.”

Silence swallowed the room.

Chan dragged a hand down his face, tears slipping free. “She brought me back to the hotel. I don’t even remember getting there. I don’t remember that night at all.” His shoulders trembled. “I woke up the next morning and she was there beside me, and that’s when it hit me. What I’d done.” He let out a broken laugh that sounded more like a sob. “I panicked. I told her to leave. I kicked her out and just—” His chest heaved. “I sat there and cried. I couldn’t believe I ruined everything.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened slowly, pieces falling into place.“That’s why…” he said quietly. “That’s why you were off and snappy for the rest of the North American tour.”

Chan didn’t look up. He only nodded, shame weighing heavier than anything else.

Changbin stood up.

“I need air,” he said, voice tight. He didn’t look at Chan when he spoke again. “I didn’t think you were capable of that.”

Minho stared down at Chan, eyes unreadable. “Do you have any idea,” he said quietly, “how much she loved you?”

Chan sobbed harder.

“She stayed hidden for you,” Hyunjin said sharply. “And you humiliated her in front of the world.”

That was worse than shouting.

They left soon after. They didn’t offer any hugs or reassurances. Just a lingering look of disappointment that weighed heavier than anger ever could.

By the next day, the others knew.

No one said it outright during practice. There was no confrontation, neither any dramatic explosion, there was just distance.

Chan arrived late, his eyes were hollow and movements slower than usual. He tried to greet once but the sound died awkwardly in the room. 

Minho focused on stretching. Changbin kept his replies clipped. Hyunjin avoided eye contact entirely. Han spoke only when necessary. Felix’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Seungmin ignored his existence all together and Jeongin didn’t ask for his help with the lines, instead he went to Changbin.

The band practiced. They corrected formations. They spoke only when work demanded it. And for the first time since becoming their leader, Chan stood among them feeling utterly alone.

He deserved it. He knew that. But knowing didn’t make the silence hurt any less.

A whole week passed like that. Practice became mechanical. Conversations stayed short and strictly professional. No jokes. No late-night talks. No checking in.

On the other hand, all his attempts to contact you seemed to go in vain. His calls went unanswered. Messages stayed unread and the apologies piled up in the chat box, long paragraphs turning into single, desperate lines—please, just talk to me, I need you—until even those stopped. You gave him nothing.

No reply. No acknowledgment. No space in your life anymore.

You were staying over at your best friend’s place. Luckily, she had an empty room and had been looking for another roommate. You grabbed the opportunity immediately. It felt as if the universe was gently telling you that Chan’s chapter in your life was finally over.

He came over a few more times after that. Each time, he argued with your friend, trying to get her to let him in, but he always failed. She stood her ground firmly and you were so grateful for her. You really did not want to see him anymore, even the thought of him twisted your heart painfully, so seeing him will make you crumble, you knew that. You still loved him very much, so all you wanted was to cry all day, eat unhealthy snacks, and lose yourself in dumb rom-coms. But you had a job, and in a strange way, it became a blessing. Work distracted you, gave you something else to focus on, even if only for a few hours.

The nights were the worst though. They felt heavy and endless. You cried yourself to sleep, over and over again, still struggling to believe that Chan had cheated. He had always been so loyal. It felt completely out of character—so unlike the person you thought you knew. You never imagined he could hurt you like this.

*********************

Every day had started to blur into the next.

The same routine consisting of endless writing lyrics, choreography, deadlines, late-night practices. The same rooms filled with people who no longer looked at him the same way.

And you… you had taken the “never existed in each other’s lives” so seriously it terrified him. 

No texts. No calls. No accidental run-ins. Like he had been erased.

All he wanted was to talk to you. Just once. To explain and to make you understand that he had never looked at another person like that. Not once, not ever! The very idea of another person, another touch, another smile meant for him, instead it made his stomach turn.

He had been drunk out of his mind that dreadful night, disgustingly so. He hated himself for it. Hated that he drank too much, also hated that he was even out with his team that night. Hated that one reckless, blurred moment had cost him the most important person in his life.

If he could rip that night out of existence, he would. God, he so wished he could do that.

He didn’t even feel like eating nowadays, but he still forced himself to the kitchen, hands moving on autopilot as he made a plain tuna sandwich. He didn’t even put any seasoning, it was a total no effort sandwich, just something to quiet the ache for a few minutes.

He ate standing up, silently, staring at nothing.

The house felt cold, big and too quiet. He could almost hear his own blood rushing in his ears.

The ringtone cut through the silence like a blade.

Chan stared at his phone for a long moment before answering, already exhausted, already hollow.

“Mom?”

Her voice was warm. “Baby, are you and y/nie coming this weekend? It’s almost time for our monthly dinner. I was thinking of making her favorite—”

His breath hitched. The word her shattered something inside him.

“Chan-ah?” his mom’s voice came through the phone again, gentle now. Worried. “Are you okay, baby?”

His throat closed.

He swallowed hard. “Mom… we’re not coming.”

There was a pause. “What do you mean?”

“Y/N and I…” His voice cracked despite his effort. “We’re not together anymore.”

Silence.

Her tone changed instantly. “What? No, what? When did this happen?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I messed up. I hurt her. And now she won’t even talk to me.”

“Oh, Chan-ah…” his mom said softly, she was speechless hearing the news.

The dam broke. He couldn’t stop the sob that tore out of his chest, sharp and ugly, the kind that startled even him. He pressed the phone closer, shaking.

“Mom,” he sobbed. “Please… can you come over? I need you.”

There was no hesitation. “I’m on my way.”

His mom arrived less than an hour later.

The moment she stepped inside his apartment, her face fell. She took in the mess—the bottles, the darkness, the way her son looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten properly in days. Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh, my baby…” she whispered, rushing to him.

But when he collapsed into her arms, sobbing like a child, she felt something was deeply, terribly wrong.

“Tell me,” she said, stroking his hair. “Whatever it is, tell me.”

He pulled away, shame carving his face apart.

“Chan-ah,” she whispered. “What happened?”

They sat across from each other, and he told her everything—his voice cracking, his head bowed in shame. The cheating. The drinking. The pregnancy. The way you had looked at him before you left.

When he finished, the room was silent.

His mother didn’t yell and that hurt more.

She stood slowly, eyes glistening with tears, but not of anger, but of heartbreak.

“How could you do this?” she asked quietly. “To her? To yourself?”

Chan let out a sob.

“You cheated,” she said, almost to herself. “On the girl who called me ‘mom’ before we were even engaged. On the only girl your father and I approved of from the very beginning.”

He sobbed harder. “I know… and I hate myself for this. Please—please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” she whispered, tears falling freely now. “That would be easier.”

She pressed a hand to her chest like it physically hurt.

“She trusted you,” his mom said softly. “And she loved you unconditionally, but you failed her.”

He broke down again and dropped to his knees. He crawled toward her desperately. 

“Please, Mom,” he begged. “She loves you so much. Please—please tell her to come back to me. I can’t do this without her.”

His mother knelt too, gripping his shoulders firmly.

“No,” she said, voice steady despite the tears falling. “She is like my daughter. And she deserves better than a man who would betray her and then beg for forgiveness only after losing her.”

Chan cried openly, uncontrollably, “Please mom, just do this one thing for me. I swear I’ll never ask anything from you ever again. Please just… talk to her. Tell her to come back. I’ll do anything. I’ll fix it.”

“No.” His mom said sharply.

The word felt final. She knelt in front of him, holding his face gently.

“I love you,” she said, tears slipping down her cheeks. “But loving you does not mean defending what you did.”

The words cut deeper than anything his members had said. She left not long after.

And while she drove home, she called you.

You answered hesitantly.

But when you heard her voice, warm and trembling, “My sweet girl…” 

You broke down. All the strength you’d been forcing yourself to hold onto collapsed as you cried openly, grief pouring out of you. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t defend him. She just listened. You apologized through tears even though you had nothing to apologize for.

“I loved him so much,” you whispered. “I tried so hard.”

“I know,” she said, voice thick. “I saw it every time you looked at him.”

She didn’t ask you to forgive him. She didn’t ask you to go back.

She just said, “Please don’t disappear from my life. Call me. Visit me. Let me still love you.”

That made you cry harder.

“You will always be my daughter,” she continued gently. “No matter what happens with my son.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you. “I promise.”

In the end, she said quietly, “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

After you hung up, a strange lightness settled over your chest. It wasn’t the kind of relief that erased the pain but it did feel like a small thread of warmth weaving itself into the emptiness.

You hadn’t told your own family about the breakup yet, because how could you? How could you even begin to explain that the person you had imagined your whole life with, the person you trusted completely, had shattered everything in one drunken mistake?

But talking to his mom—hearing her voice, feeling her concern, and knowing she still saw you as part of the family in her heart—felt like the virtual hug you didn’t realize you had been craving. 

So, for the first time in weeks, you let yourself breathe. You let yourself cry without guilt. Let yourself be comforted, even from a distance, by someone who had loved both of you deeply and wanted the best for you.

*********************

After his mom left, the apartment felt emptier than before. Chan sat alone in the silence when his phone buzzed again.

A new message from the other woman.

Gemma

I’ve decided I’m keeping the child. I think we should meet and talk.

His stomach twisted violently.

He typed back immediately.

Chan

No, I don't want this.

Please don't contact me again.

His hands shook as he set the phone down. Inside, his thoughts spiraled.

If it’s not Y/N, he thought bitterly, I’ll never be a father.

He couldn’t imagine holding a child that wasn’t born from love. From you. He couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t have your laugh in it, your warmth, your presence.

Without you, everything felt wrong.

But Gemma didn’t stop. She kept calling and texting and finally he gave in because he was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of thinking, tired of waking up every morning with your absence sitting heavier than his own guilt.

“Come to my place,” he told her over the phone, voice flat. “I don’t want paparazzi seeing us again. We’ll talk and that’s it.”

He didn’t even wait for her response before hanging up.

When she arrived, Chan barely looked at her as he opened the door. He kept his distance, arms crossed, shoulders rigid, like he was bracing himself for impact.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch. The silence stretched.

Then she smiled at him, trying to ease the tension in the room. “So… what are we going to do?”

Chan exhaled slowly. “I don’t want this child.”

Her smile faltered.

“You can keep it if you want,” he continued, forcing the words out like they were poison. “I’ll cover everything. Hospital bills. Living expenses. Whatever you need financially. I can meet the child occasionally—every other weekend, maybe. That’s all I can do.”

Her face hardened instantly.

“So that’s it?” she snapped. “Did I ask to get pregnant, Bang Chan?”

He didn’t answer or defend himself. He just stared at the floor, already defeated.

“That’s not fair,” she continued sharply, standing up now. “You think money fixes everything? You think I want to do this alone?”

Still nothing from him. That silence made her angrier.

“You’re going to support me,” she said coldly. “All of it. Doctor visits. Appointments. Delivery. Or I will ruin you.”

Chan laughed bitterly, finally looking up at her. “You already ruined me. What else do you want?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You have a band to protect.”

That stopped him.

For the first time, something like fear flickered across his face, not for himself, but for the people who had nothing to do with his mistake.

“You don’t get to threaten them,” he snapped, standing up. “Don’t make me involve lawyers.”

The word seemed to sober her.

She hesitated, then scoffed, crossing her arms. “Fine. No lawyers. But I want your full support during the pregnancy.”

Chan closed his eyes.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “But you’ll meet with my managers at JYPE. There will be documents and some NDA’s. Everything in writing.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

She grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

Chan followed a few steps behind, exhausted, numb until movement on the other side of the door made his heart stop.

The lock turned and the door opened. There you were, key still halfway in your hand. You looked at him with widening eyes. Your breath caught somewhere between surprise and pain.

“Oh,” you said softly. “I thought you weren’t home.”

Your gaze shifted and then you took her in, standing there beside him, close enough to look intentional.

Chan’s world collapsed all over again.

“No—wait,” he said immediately, panic flooding his voice as he stepped toward you. “It’s not what it looks like—”

But the damage was already done. You looked at them sadly, he saw the flicker of disappointment in your gaze.

“I was just leaving,” the woman said quickly, slipping her shoes on, eyes flicking between the two of you.

You nodded once, polite, distant. “Yeah, me too.”

You stepped back, ready to turn away. That was when Chan grabbed your wrist.

“Please,” he said, voice breaking. “Just—come inside. Please. I can’t have you misunderstand this more.”

You froze, but not because you wanted to stay. No, because you knew what a scene outside would cost him.

Slowly, you pulled your hand from his grip. “Five minutes,” you said flatly.

Inside, the apartment felt like a stranger’s home now.

Nothing screamed you anymore.

The woman lingered awkwardly near the door as Chan turned to face you, panic etched into every line of his face. She quickly left without another word.

“I didn’t invite her here like that,” he started quickly. “She just came to talk—”

“Stop,” you said harshly.

He swallowed.

“We’re not together anymore,” you continued calmly. “So you don’t owe me explanations. You can do whatever you want.”

He felt his heart twisting. 

He shook his head, stepping closer. “It’s not like that. I don’t want her. I don’t want this—”

“That doesn’t matter,” you replied. “What you want stopped mattering the moment you slept with someone else.”

You cleared your throat. “I was just here to get the rest of my stuff, I’ll be quick.”

You turned away from him, walking toward what used to be your bedroom. The room where you had fallen asleep tangled in his arms, where you’d whispered plans about the future, about kids, about growing old together. Now it felt like a stranger’s space.

“No wait,” Chan whispered.

You stopped, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag, then turned back. 

Chan stood there completely undone. His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes wet, shoulders shaking like he was holding himself together with sheer will. He looked smaller somehow, like the man you loved had been hollowed out and left behind.

“Y/N… how can I fix this?” he asked desperately. “Please. Just tell me what to do.”

“There’s no way,” you said softly.

The finality in your tone made his breath stutter.

“Please—” he tried again, stepping closer, reaching for you before stopping himself, hands curling into fists instead.

“You didn’t make one mistake,” you continued gently. “You made a choice. And some choices don’t get undone.”

You picked up your bag.

“I hope you heal,” you added, meeting his eyes one last time. “But I can’t be part of your life anymore.”

Something in him broke completely. You walked past him making your way to the bedroom. 

“She’s going to keep the baby,” he said suddenly.

You stopped in your tracks, your hand tightening around your bag, heart betraying you by stuttering at the mention of the baby.

“I’ll be there financially. I’ll do what I have to.”

“I hope you do,” you replied calmly. “That child didn’t ask for any of this.”

He nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact as he looked down.

Silence filled the apartment again.

“Can we… try again?” he asked quietly. “Y/N, you know me. I would never cheat. I was drunk. I lost control.” His voice broke. “Please… forgive me.”

Your heart clenched painfully, but it didn’t waver.

“No,” you said gently.

The softness didn’t make it easier.

His breath shook as he exhaled, hands gripping the wall nearby like they were the only things keeping him upright.

“You always wanted to be a father,” you continued, voice steady despite the ache spreading through your chest. “Raise the child properly. Be present. Be better.”

He shook his head immediately, desperation flooding his expression. “No. I wanted to be the father of your child. Not anyone else’s.”

That was when the tears came.

You looked away before he could see them fully, blinking hard as your vision blurred. “I guess destiny had other plans,” you said quietly.

The words tasted bitter, but they were true.

You both stood there in that truth, the apartment heavy with everything you had been and everything you would never be. The walls felt like they were listening — like they remembered your laughter, your arguments, your late-night confessions whispered under dim lights.

“I’ll always love you,” he said softly, barely louder than a breath.

“I know,” you whispered. “And I hope you’re happy someday.”

You lifted your bag, pausing for half a second like your body was fighting your decision even though your heart already knew.

“I’ll send my friend another day to grab the rest of my stuff,” you said quietly. “It’s better if I leave now.”

Chan’s jaw tightened, eyes shining, but he said nothing.

You took a step back, then another. “Goodbye, Chan.”

He looked up at you like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face. The curve of your lips. The moles around your face. Like this might be the last time he was allowed to see you like this.

You looked at him one last time too.

And in that silent apartment, both of you quietly mourned not just each other but the life you had believed in with everything you had.

You let out a sigh before turning towards the main door.

He didn’t reach for you, even though he wanted to. But he knew he lost that right, so he just watched you leave, tears blurring his vision.

Every step you took toward the door felt like you were carrying a piece of him away and leaving pieces of yourself behind in the quiet apartment that had once been your home.

When your hand wrapped around the doorknob, you hesitated and just for a moment his heart felt hopeful but it quickly turned hopeless when you opened the door and stepped out.

The click of it closing behind you echoed through the apartment.

Chan stayed where he was long after you left, staring at the empty space you had occupied, chest aching with a pain so deep he didn’t think it would ever leave.

*********************

Two months later, your life felt different. You were still aching but no longer suffocating, and that was a huge progress.

Changbin showed up on a rare free afternoon, a grocery bag in one hand and his familiar grin on his face like he was trying to remind you of something you’d forgotten. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said as he stepped inside. “I brought snacks. I’m a guest, not a therapist.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound surprising you both.

You spent the afternoon sprawled on the couch, music playing softly in the background, talking about everything and nothing—tour stories, silly arguments between the members, the weird dreams Changbin kept having lately. It felt easy and comforting like it always did with him.

At some point, the laughter faded into quiet.

Changbin glanced at you, his expression gentler now. “You okay?”

You nodded automatically. Then shook your head just as quickly as the tears came without warning.

He didn’t say anything, he just opened his arms, and you folded into him and cried into his chest, fingers clutching his hoodie, grief finally spilling out now that it had somewhere to land.

“It hurts,” you whispered.

“I know,” he murmured, one hand rubbing slow circles into your back. “You don’t have to be strong around us. Ever.”

When you finally pulled away, wiping your face, you let out a shaky breath. “How is he?”

Changbin hesitated just a second too long.

“Miserable,” he said honestly.

You sighed, sadness blooming quietly in your chest, but not with relief or satisfaction. Just grief for what had been. “I figured.”

The room fell silent again, comfortable but heavy.

Then Changbin tilted his head, eyes lighting up with a mischievous spark. “So. I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never good,” you said weakly.

He chuckled. “YAH! So rude. But listen… my friend Kim Mingyu?”

You blinked. “Kim Mingyu of Seventeen?”

“Yes, that Mingyu,” Changbin said, nodding. “And before you freak out—no pressure. I’m not setting you up tomorrow or anything.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“He’s… a total green flag,” Changbin continued earnestly. “Respectful. Gentle. Good listener. And he’s been single for a while now.”

You let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Bin, I’m barely functioning. You think I’m ready to even think about someone like him?”

“I think,” Changbin said softly, “that you deserve someone who won’t hurt you. And I think it wouldn’t hurt to remember that good people still exist.”

The room grew quiet again.

You hugged a pillow to your chest, eyes unfocused. “I’m not saying yes...”

“I didn’t ask for yes,” Changbin replied with a grin. “I asked for maybe someday.”

You glanced at him, something fragile but hopeful flickering in your expression.

“Maybe someday,” you echoed.

And Changbin smiled, knowing that for now, that was enough.

*********************

Chan kept tabs on you.

It was harder than he expected though, because you were never someone who lived online. You barely posted. So he had nothing for him to cling to.

So he did the only thing he could.

He watched your friends’, cousins’ and colleagues’ accounts. Any tagged photos he could find. Any glimpse that proved you still existed in a world that no longer included him.

And when he found them—small, accidental moments—he saw that you were glowing.

You were healthier, brighter and alive in a way you hadn’t been in months.

He noticed the way people still surrounded you.

Your family hosted game nights almost every week now — laughter spilling through the photos, proof that you were still held and still loved dearly. 

He noticed how his members reached out to you quietly and carefully. They never took any sides, not out loud at least. Once, late at night in the studio, he overheard Seungmin on the phone in the hallway. Seungmin’s voice was low and soft in a way Chan rarely heard.

“You don’t have to be okay right now,” Seungmin had said.

Chan stayed where he was, frozen, listening to only one side of the conversation, trying to imagine your replies. Wondering if you sounded tired. If you still laughed the same. If you mentioned his name or avoided it completely.

Even his parents still spoke of you like you were family.

His mom called you regularly. His dad asked about you over dinner like it was the most natural thing in the world. They used your name fondly. One afternoon, as he passed by his sister's room, meaning to grab a charger. Her phone buzzed on the bed. He wasn’t trying to look but your name lit up the screen: Y/N 💗

His breath caught painfully and he stopped walking.

For a split second, his heart betrayed him, he smiled softly seeing your name before reality settled in. You weren’t texting him. You hadn’t in months.

His sister smiled at the notification, fingers already moving to reply. “She’s sending me pictures from game night,” she said casually, not noticing the way Chan’s face had gone pale. “She looks happier.”

He nodded stiffly, forcing a small smile, and walked away before she could say anything else. His chest felt tight, like there wasn’t enough air in the house anymore.

Everyone still had access to you. Everyone except him.

You existed everywhere in his life — in conversations, in laughter, in phones lighting up with your name — just close enough for him to see, but forever out of reach.

You were not alone, and that knowledge both comforted and devastated him. At least he hadn’t destroyed you completely. At least you were healing, even if it was far away from him.

The guilt never left. He had broken the one person who had loved him without conditions, without expectations, without fear. He lost you, the love of his life, and he was forced to carry that bitter truth for the rest of his life.

It was like you left and took away all the light. His members still spoke to him, but it was different now. It was polite and professional. The warmth was gone, replaced by distance that no amount of time seemed to fix. His parents were disappointed in him in a way that cut deeper than anger. His siblings barely hid their disapproval, their voices careful whenever your name almost slipped into conversation.

And then there was… Gemma.

She lingered, she was always around and always was finding excuses to text him, to check in, to suggest coffee or dinner like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t watched his life fall apart and decided it was an opportunity.

Chan wanted nothing to do with her.

The idea of dating—of touching someone else, of pretending he could move on—made his stomach turn. He would rather be alone for the rest of his life than replace you with anyone else.

You weren’t replaceable. And he knew, with painful clarity, that the version of you he loved so desperately was gone from his life forever and it was his own fault.

*********************

Chan sat stiffly in the JYPE office, the sterile fluorescent lights above reflecting off the polished table. His hands were gripping the edge so hard his knuckles were white. The envelope with the DNA results lay in front of him like a loaded gun.

“Not the father,” the manager said quietly, sliding the paper toward him.

Chan’s chest tightened. His stomach lurched. He blinked, as if the words themselves were an insult.

“What… what do you mean I’m not the father?” he demanded, voice low and sharp.

The authorities, present to mediate, explained gently but firmly. “We conducted the test. The child is not biologically yours.”

Gemma, sitting stiffly across the table, looked utterly confused, her words fumbling. “Wait… maybe it’s… the other guy? I don’t understand…”

Chan’s fists slammed down on the table, rattling the pens and paperwork. “Other guy? You—are you kidding me?!” His voice cracked, sharp and dangerous, the kind that made the room freeze.

His managers immediately held up their hands, keeping their tone calm. “Chan… breathe. Please. Just breathe. Sit down.”

He finally sank into the chair, shoulders hunched, rage and relief fighting in his chest. His legs shook. The adrenaline of fury and the exhaustion of months of guilt and anxiety left him trembling.

One of the managers placed a bottle of water in front of him. “Chan… just drink and calm down first. We’ll handle the rest.”

He stared at the bottle, trembling so badly it spilled a few drops onto the desk. He grabbed it anyway, chugging it down like it might wash away the storm inside him, but of course it didn’t.

His mind raced with betrayal, anger, frustration and everything that had been bottled for months exploded all at once. Gemma’s carelessness, the deception, the false hope… and yet, deep down, there was relief. Relief that it wasn’t his child. Relief that he could never make the mistake of raising someone else’s child when his heart—and the part of him that truly mattered—forever belonged to you only.

He leaned back, trying to control his breathing, fists still clenched. The room was quiet, except for the soft hum of the air conditioner. Even the managers were careful, letting him have the moment.

Chan finally whispered, almost to himself: “I… I can’t believe she… all this time… what the hell…”

The managers nodded silently, letting him process the whirlwind. Tension clung to the air as they watched Chan. He looked as though he was fighting the urge to destroy everything.

VOTE!!

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