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this is so sweet thank u so much for supporting me and being here!!! adore you so much lover. hope you enjoy, i love writing any munch piece <3

Pairing : Dean Di Laurentis x Fem!reader Warning : jealousy , possesive Dean, popular hockey boy x shy girl, accidental confession Word Count : 1,6k Summary : When Dean gets unexpectedly jealous at a Briar party and pulls you onto his lap in front of everyone, the line between friendship and something more suddenly disappears.

You hated Briar parties. Too loud. Too crowded. Too many drunk athletes screaming over terrible music.

Honestly, you would’ve stayed home if Dean hadn’t practically dragged you there himself.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he complained dramatically while walking backwards in front of you. “You can’t spend your entire Friday night hiding in your dorm.”

“Yes I can.”

Dean grinned immediately.

“Not anymore.”

Your stomach flipped stupidly. That happened a lot around Dean Di Laurentis. Which was unfortunate because Dean flirted with literally everyone.

Waitresses. Classmates. Random girls at parties.

Meanwhile you could barely survive eye contact with him.

“Relax,” he teased softly once you reached the crowded house. “I’ll protect you from the evil social interaction.”

You rolled your eyes, but still followed closely behind him inside. Dean noticed. He always noticed. That was the problem. People thought Dean was shallow because he joked constantly and flirted with everyone around him. But you knew better.

You noticed the little things:

how he always walked on the outside of sidewalks,

how he remembered your coffee order,

how he touched your lower back in crowded rooms without thinking,

how his eyes automatically searched for you first whenever he entered somewhere.

It was confusing.

Especially because Dean acted like you belonged to him half the time. Even though you definitely weren’t dating. Probably. Maybe. Honestly, you didn’t know anymore.

“Stay here,” Dean said while handing you a drink. “I’m grabbing Logan before he destroys someone at beer pong.”

You laughed quietly.

“Okay.”

“Don’t let anyone kidnap you while I’m gone.”

Heat rushed to your face immediately. Dean winked before disappearing into the crowd. You hated how easily he affected you. A few minutes later, you were standing awkwardly near the kitchen trying not to look completely uncomfortable. Bad idea. Because apparently standing alone at a party attracted attention.

“You look terrified.”

You looked up nervously to find a football player smiling down at you. Cute. Very tall.Definitely drunk.

“Oh,” you laughed weakly. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?” He leaned casually against the counter beside you. “You’ve been hiding over here all night.”

You smiled politely, unsure what to say. Social interaction was already hard enough. Flirting was worse.

“I’m Mason, by the way.”

You told him your name softly. Then immediately regretted it because his smile widened.

“Well,” Mason said, “you’re definitely the prettiest girl here.”

Your face burned.

“Oh, thank you.”

“You here with someone?”

Before you could answer, Mason’s hand landed lightly on your waist.

And suddenly,

“She’s sitting with me.”

The voice cut through the noise instantly. Your breath caught. Dean stood a few feet away staring directly at the football player.

And for once? Dean Di Laurentis wasn’t smiling. Your heartbeat immediately sped up.

Mason lifted his hands awkwardly. “Dude, I was just talking to her.”

“Cool.” Dean walked forward slowly. “Now you’re done.”

The tension shifted instantly.

You stared at Dean in complete shock while Mason looked between both of you confused.

“Wait,” Mason frowned slightly. “Are you guys together?”

Dean’s arm wrapped around your waist without hesitation.

“She’s with me.”

The words hit your chest so hard it almost hurt. Mason looked uncomfortable immediately.

“My bad.”

Dean didn’t answer.

He just guided you away from the kitchen with his hand still firmly against your waist.

Your entire body felt warm where he touched you.

“What was that?” you whispered once you reached the living room.

Dean looked down at you innocently.

“What was what?”

“You basically threatened him.”

Dean scoffed.

“He was flirting with you.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t like it.”

The answer came too fast. Too honestly. Your heart nearly stopped. Dean seemed to realize what he’d admitted because his expression shifted slightly. But instead of taking it back… His hand tightened against your waist.

“You’re sitting with me,” he decided suddenly.

Before you could process the sentence, Dean dropped onto the couch and pulled you directly into his lap. Your entire brain short-circuited.

“Dean!”

He looked completely relaxed despite the fact that your heart was trying to kill you.

“What?”

“I can’t sit on your lap!”

“Too late.”

Around you, several hockey players immediately started staring. Logan nearly spit out his drink. Garrett looked deeply unimpressed.

And Allie whispered:

“Oh my God finally.”

Your face burned hotter. Dean only looked smug. One of his hands rested casually against your thigh while the other held his drink. Completely comfortable. Like this was normal. Meanwhile you could barely breathe.

“Dean,” you hissed quietly. “Everyone’s looking.”

“Let them.”

Your stomach flipped violently.

“How are you acting normal right now?”

He leaned closer slightly.

“I’m always normal.”

“You’re literally holding me hostage.”

Dean grinned lazily.

“Sweetheart, if I was holding you hostage, you’d know.”

Your brain stopped functioning. Absolutely stopped. And the worst part? You didn’t even want to move. Because sitting in Dean’s lap felt stupidly safe. Warm. His fingers absentmindedly traced circles against your leg while he talked to Garrett about hockey, completely unaware he was actively ruining your life.

Or maybe he was aware. That was somehow worse.

“You’re quiet,” Dean murmured eventually, looking down at you.

“I wonder why.”

He laughed softly.

Cute.

Dean Di Laurentis was annoyingly cute.

Which felt deeply unfair considering he looked like that and had the personality of a menace.

“You okay?” he asked more gently.

The softness in his voice caught you off guard. You nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

Dean studied your face for a second too long. Then his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your thigh. Your pulse jumped instantly. And suddenly something shifted. The teasing atmosphere faded slightly.

Now it was just:

Dean looking at you,

your body pressed against his,

and way too much tension between both of you.

“You know,” Dean said quietly, “I really hated watching him flirt with you.”

Your breath caught.

“Dean…”

“I’m serious.”

His expression softened completely now. No jokes. No flirting. Just honesty. And somehow that terrified you more.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Dean admitted softly. “Or touched you.”

Your heart pounded painfully.

“Why?”

The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Dean stared at you silently for a second.

Then laughed quietly to himself.

“Jesus Christ.”

“What?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

Your stomach twisted.

“Know what?”

Dean looked almost frustrated now.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “I’ve been obsessed with you for months.”

Silence. Complete silence. The party noise faded into background static. You stared at him, convinced you misheard.

“What?”

Dean’s hand moved carefully to your waist again.

“You think I drag you to parties because I enjoy watching you avoid eye contact with everyone?”

Heat rushed violently to your face.

“You flirt with everybody,” you whispered.

Dean immediately shook his head.

“Not like this.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“Then what is this?”

Dean smiled softly.

“This,” he murmured while pulling you slightly closer, “is me losing my mind over one shy girl.”

Your heart completely melted. And suddenly everything made sense. The constant attention. The touching. The jealousy. The way Dean always looked at you like you were something precious.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Dean laughed quietly.

“Yeah. Oh.”

You stared at him nervously.

“So…” Your voice came out tiny. “You like me?”

Dean looked genuinely offended.

“Baby, I’m one bad day away from writing poetry about you.”

A startled laugh escaped you instantly. Dean smiled immediately like hearing you laugh was his favorite thing in the world. God. You were so done for.

“You know what the worst part is?” you admitted quietly.

“What?”

“I think I liked when you got jealous.”

Dean froze for half a second. Then a dangerously smug grin appeared on his face.

“Oh, you’re into possessive behavior?” he teased.

Your eyes widened immediately.

“No!”

Dean laughed loudly while your face burned alive.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“You’re horrible.”

“And yet,” he murmured while leaning closer, “you’re still sitting in my lap.”

Your breath caught instantly. Because he was right. You hadn’t moved once. Not even a little. Dean’s eyes flickered briefly toward your lips. Then back up again.

“You wanna know something?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the second week I knew you.”

Your heartbeat became unbearable.

“Dean…”

“Tell me to stop.”

But the problem was… You really, really didn’t want him to stop. So instead, you whispered:

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

Dean stared at you for half a second before kissing you immediately.

Warm. Confident. Perfect.

One hand settled against your waist while the other tilted your chin upward carefully, like he wanted to make absolutely sure you felt everything behind the kiss. And honestly? You thought Dean flirting was dangerous. Kissing him was worse. When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathing hard. Dean rested his forehead lightly against yours.

“Well,” he murmured lazily, “that’s gonna make parties way more interesting.”

You laughed softly despite yourself. Across the room, Garrett looked exhausted already. Logan looked deeply entertained. And Dean? Dean looked ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Still hate parties?” he whispered.

You glanced at him before smiling shyly.

“Maybe not this one.”

Dean grinned immediately before kissing your forehead. Then, because he was incapable of behaving normally for even five seconds, he looked around the room proudly and announced:

“Everybody relax. She likes me back.”

You immediately hid your face in his shoulder while the hockey team erupted into chaos.

Pairing: Jeongin x Fem!reader (uses she/her pronouns)

This is based off of Figure You Out by VOILÀ

TW’s: mentions of alcohol, shitty boyfriends (please take care of yourself) I think that’s it, but please comment if you think anything should be added! Word count: 858

Disclaimer: this is all fiction, and not at all a real representation of any of the Stray Kids members. As well, please do not feed this to AI

A/N: chat I am nawt feeling good about this one- but alas I digress. Also, this was like, half beta read by myself, my apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes. Also for any shit spacing, I wrote this on my phone-

Jeongin watches as Y/n and her boyfriend - who he despised on a level previously unseen to humanity; walk into the company party. The party itself was small, just a get together for another tour well done. Minho gives him a stiff side-eye when he realizes who Jeongin was glaring at. Elbowing him between the ribs, as if Minho was telling him 'behave.' The maknae glances at the second oldest with despair, they all could see how bad her boyfriend was for her. 

Jeongin watches as Y/n's boyfriend pats her on the shoulder, then slinks away, probably to go to talk to some poor, unsuspecting girl. He turns his attention back to her, who was standing there, looking lost. He calls, "Y/nnie!" and her head snaps towards, a smiling breaking out on her face. She almost jogs over to him, but decided maybe its too formal an event for that. 

⋆☕︎˖ bahng christopher chan x reader ⋆☕︎˖ 989 words ⋆☕︎˖ soft dom, nsfw, fluff

The week had been brutal. You dropped your bag at the door, kicked off your shoes, and stood in the hallway just breathing.

Chan appeared from the bedroom, took one look at you, and opened his arms.

You crossed the room and walked straight into them. His hand came up to the back of your head, pressing you in.

"I've got you," he murmured. "You're home."

You exhaled for what felt like the first time in days.

--------

You talked over dinner. About your manager, the stolen credit, the packed commute. Chan listened the right way– not jumping to fix things, just taking it all in. When you finished, he looked at you steadily and said, "That's not a reflection of your work. You know that, right?"

"Logically."

"Not just logically." He tipped your chin up. "You're genuinely good at what you do. What happened today was someone else's failure of integrity."

Your throat tightened. "Okay."

"Okay," he echoed, and kissed your forehead.

--------

The shift happened somewhere between the dishes and the hallway. The loosening of the week, your body remembering it was safe. Chan felt it too– you could tell by the way his hand lingered at the small of your back, the way he looked at you from the doorway while you were washing your face.

"Come here," he said softly, from the bed.

You went.

He pulled you in slowly, one hand cradling your jaw, and kissed you like they had all the time in the world. You melted into it immediately. His other hand slid to your waist and walked you gently backward until your knees hit the bed.

"You okay?" he murmured against your skin.

"Getting there."

He smiled. "Let me help with that."

He undressed you unhurriedly, pressing his mouth to each new inch of skin like he had nowhere else to be– your shoulder, your collarbone, the soft curve of your chest. He took his time at your stomach, and you threaded your fingers into his hair.

"You're so beautiful," he said quietly, against your ribs. Not like a compliment– like something he was simply noting out loud.

"You have to say that."

He looked up at you. "I really don't."

You stopped arguing.

He worked you open slowly with his fingers, watching your face the entire time with that focused, unhurried attention that undid you more than anything else. He knew exactly how you liked it– had learned you patiently and never got lazy about it– and you felt yourself go soft and trusting underneath him in the way you’d only ever managed with him. When you tried to muffle yourself, he pulled your hand away.

"Don't," he said quietly. "I want to hear you."

You flushed. "Chan—"

"Just let go." His free hand pressed flat and warm against your stomach. "I've got you."

You let go.

He brought you up slowly and kept you there, right at the edge, until you were pulling at his shoulders and saying his name with an embarrassing amount of desperation. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh and looked up at you with dark, warm eyes.

"Please," you managed.

"Since you asked nicely," he said, and finished you off properly.

You came apart with your hand fisted in his hair, shaking, his name bitten down into something quiet. He worked you through every wave of it and surfaced only when you went still.

--------

When he finally pressed into you, you arched up immediately and he stilled, one hand spread warm and grounding on your hip.

"Easy," he breathed. "Easy. We've got time."

He meant it. He kept the pace slow and deep, and it was the specific kind of slowness that built into something unbearable– every movement deliberate, completely controlled, his breath warm at your ear. You dug your fingers into his back and held on.

He talked through all of it in that low steady voice, unhurried and certain. Said you felt incredible and perfect. He told you he had you, that you were doing so well, that you could let go as many times as you wanted because he wasn't going anywhere. You felt each word as much as you heard it.

"You always take care of everyone else," he said quietly, into your hair. "Let me take care of you."

Something loosened in your chest at that– something you hadn't realized you’d been holding all week. You pressed your face into his neck.

"Okay," you whispered.

"Yeah?" His pace shifted fractionally, deeper, and you gasped.

"Yeah."

He brought you up a second time with patient, devastating focus– reading every hitch in your breathing, every press of your fingers, adjusting until you were shaking underneath him and completely incapable of holding anything together. When you broke apart, he held you through it, his voice low and steady in your ear, “there you go, good girl, I've got you, I've got you”, and you felt it everywhere.

He followed shortly after with his face buried in your neck and your name barely a sound.

--------

You both lay tangled in the low light afterward, his hand moving in slow circles on your back.

"I'm going to talk to my manager on Monday," you said eventually. "About the report. I want my contributions acknowledged."

"Good," he said. Simply, no caveats.

"You don't think it'll be awkward?"

"I think you deserve to be seen for your work." He looked down at you. "I think you forget sometimes how capable you are."

You looked up at him. His eyes were warm and completely certain, the way they always were when he talked about you like this.

"You're annoyingly supportive."

"In the best way, I hope."

"The best way," you confirmed.

He pulled you in and pressed a long kiss to your hair and held it there.

"I'm really proud of you," he said quietly. "Even on the hard weeks."

You pressed closer. He held tighter.

⋆☕︎˖ a/n: ik i've been MIA recently (lolz)- its been a busy week, BUTTT i hope you can forgive me with this little chan fic. i'll try and make one for each member throughout the next few weeks 🙂‍↕️