“Give in”
Chan × Y/N
(Explicit 18+) MDNI
It’s a cold winter night. You’re Chan’s date to a JYPE party thrown for their recent success and album release. You’re dressed in a short, tight black dress with a long coat and thigh high boots. Your hair falls loosely around your shoulders. Chan is in a black suit, the undershirt is slightly revealing his chest, he looks good.
You both have been so busy lately, not being able to spend much time together, so when he asked you to go to the party, there was no hesitation.
But when you arrived, you hadn’t seen the rest of the boys in a while, so you greeted them one by one. Hyunjin was last, your best friend. You knew each other in your pre debut days. Chan was never mad at you for having him as a friend, but he did get jealous when he saw you two together.
“Hi y/n, it’s been a while” Hyunjin greets you with a smile and a hug.
“Hyunjin-ah! It’s so good to see you!” You say. You pretty much talked to the guys the entire night.
At this point Chan was staring, you felt it. You hadn’t really talked to him much tonight, and he wasn’t going to let that go.
By the time you arrived home, he was calm but aggravated. “You and Hyunjin seemed cozy” he says. You roll your eyes, sliding off your shoes, “Yeah, so?” You answer back. “We were just catching up”
Chan finally walks over to you, grabbing your arm, spinning you and pinning you against the wall. “Do you know what you’ve done to me tonight?” He asks. “Avoiding me, being short when I talk to you, and clinging to Hyunjin all night” he snaps. “I think you need to be reminded who gets to take you home every night.”
The room was dim when Chan finally let go of your arm and moved closer to you, his chest rising and falling like he was fighting the urge to take you right where you stood. Then he kissed you… hard then stopped.
You were already trembling—half from anticipation, half from what he’d already done to you.
He wiped his mouth with his thumb, eyes dark and fixed on you.
“Take your clothes off,” he ordered quietly. Not loud.
Not angry. Just absolute command.
Your breath hitched, but you obeyed.
Chan watched every movement, jaw tight, hands flexing like he was holding himself back. When the last piece fell to the floor, he smirked, kinda devilishly, spinning you to where your stomach was on the cold wall.
“Good girl. Hands behind your back.”
A shiver ran through you—fearless, wanting, hungry. You placed your wrists together, your breath uneven.
Chan reached into the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a strip of soft black fabric. It wasn’t rope. It wasn’t harsh. It was something he’d chosen deliberately because it wouldn’t hurt you—just restrain you.
He wrapped it around your wrists, slow, giving you time to breathe.
“You say one word—one—and I stop,” he murmured as he tied the knot. His voice was steady but low with tension. “But I don’t think you want me to stop.”
Your blood rushed hot under your skin. “I don’t.”
A slow, dangerous smile touched his lips.
“I know.”
He slid another piece of the same soft fabric through his fingers—a blindfold.
When he lifted it toward your eyes, he watched your reaction carefully. You didn’t pull away.
“Color?” he asked, checking your consent.
“Green,” you whispered—steady, sure.
The blindfold settled over your eyes, plunging the world into dark. You felt him step back, the space around you suddenly too quiet.
You could hear him breathing. You could feel him watching. And then—
His palm dragged from your hip to your thigh, slow, claiming. You gasped as he spun you gently and pressed your bound hands to the wall.
“Spread your legs,” he said softly. The softness made it worse. More intense.
You did.
Chan’s fingers traced the inside of your thigh, and you nearly buckled. He grabbed your waist with one firm hand, steadying you.
“You can’t fall,” he whispered against your ear. “Not yet.”
You shivered.
You couldn’t see him—and that made every sensation sharper. His hands, his breath, the heat of his body behind you. When his fingers slid between your legs, you moaned, arching instinctively.
He pressed you harder into the wall. “Keep your legs open. If they close, I stop.”
Your breath trembled. They didn’t close.
His fingers worked you with brutal precision—rough enough to make you cry out, controlled enough to keep you right at the edge without tipping over it. You pulled at the restraints, the helplessness making everything darker, hotter.
“Channie—please—”
He loved when you called him that
He tightened his grip on your hips, pulling you back against him, his breath rough at your ear.
“Not yet.” A command. A promise.
Your knees shook, and he slid an arm around your waist to hold you up. He kept you there, helpless against him, bound and blindfolded, whimpering into the air as he pushed you right to the brink—again and again—denying every drop of release with a growl of dominance that made your entire body burn.
“Say my name,” he demanded.
“Channie—”
“Louder.”
“CHANNIE!”
He let out a low, hungry sound. “That’s it. Come for me now.”
His voice alone broke you.
Your body shattered against him, shaking, trembling, restrained hands useless behind your back as he held you through every second of it—whispering praise into your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin.
When your breathing finally slowed, he kissed the side of your neck.
“I’m not done yet” he growled.
Still blindfolded and bound, he took you to the bed and laid you on your stomach.
“You move, I stop” he says as he positions himself behind you. You know he’s there but you can’t see him, you can’t touch him.
“Channie, please let me feel you” you whine
“So desperate now, what happened to ignoring me” he says
“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again” you say “please Chan, I need you”
That was enough for him to fill you completely.
He starts off slow, then slams back in with a force that rattles you against the bed. The rhythm he sets is merciless—not rushed, not leisurely, but paced with intention, each thrust a demand. His fingers clamp tighter around your thighs.
Then it hits you. “Come for me again, I want to hear who gets to make you feel this way”
“Channie” you whine loudly. He soon follows your high with his own. Gripping your hips tight enough to leave marks.
He falls beside you on the bed, you still blindfolded and tied up.
“Color?”
“Green… just—God.”
He chuckled softly, and only then did he undo the binds, letting your wrists fall free. The blindfold slipped off next, and you blinked up at him. His expression softened instantly when he saw how unsteady you were.
He scooped you into his arms.
“No more,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “You’re done. I’ve got you now.”
He carried you into the bathroom where warm steam drifted from the bath he’d clearly drawn earlier—rose-scented, lit by soft candles. He set you gently into the water and slid in behind you, pulling your back against his chest.
All the roughness melted into tenderness now. His hands massaged your shoulders, slow and careful.
“You’re safe,” he whispered into your hair. “I’m right here.”
You relaxed into him, exhaustion settling into comfort as the water warmed your skin.
Later, when the bath had cooled and he’d dried your hair with quiet attention, he lifted you again—this time to the bed. You curled against him, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.
“Sleep,” he murmured.
And you did—safe, warm, held by the same hands that had claimed you hours before.
A/N:
My work is NOT TO BE COPIED
Holy shit 🔥🔥💯🥵
