Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter IV

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: things between minho and jisung are slowly starting to come to a head as minho makes a bad call. a really bad call.

word count: 6.9k

warnings: violence and swearing!! fighting with fists and guns and big old knives; death (of bad guys only!); jisung is faced with his abuser, so warning for mentions of sexual assault (nothing too graphic, only one little flashback)

author's note: this was one of my favourite chapters and one of the hardest things I've ever written. as someone who comes from just smut and one-shots, building such an intricate action scene was sooo fucking hard. so please go easy on me, we all start somewhere. anyways, do we think things between minho and jisung will finally reach a boiling point soon?

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter III - chapter V (coming: friday, april 5, 3pm CET) >

It’s two weeks later and Jisung is elbow deep in lavender scented laundry suds, giggling about a story Hyunjin is telling him about a time when Seungmin got drunk and tried to climb up to the top, singing a love song at the top of his lungs, trying to get to Jeongin, who was panicking and trying to get down before Seungmin could hurt himself, when he hears it. The distant, but not-distant-enough sound of a cannon. Hyunjin’s smile falls, his head shoots up, and they look at each for a moment. Then another cannon shot rips through the silence, and they shoot to their feet.

By the time they reach the main deck, there’s already mayhem – Jeongin flies down the sails, Seungmin yells something from the quarterdeck, whips the wheel around so fast it sends Hyunjin and Jisung stumbling into each other. Jisung gets shoved to the side as the captain barges out of her quarters, snatches the binoculars out of Jeongin’s hands and flies to the forecastle, Jeongin and Minho on her heels.

“She’s small, no more than 20 on board. Looks like a government ship. We can try outrunning her, but she’s fast and heading straight for us,” Jeongin rattles off.

The words government ship ring through Jisung’s brain louder than any cannon.

Minho turns around and stares straight at him as if he heard it, too.

“They’re aiming for our gun,” the captain mumbles, eyes trained on the ship on the horizon. Her shoulders are pulled taut and her eyes are cold, colder even when she turns around and announces. “We’ll fight them. Everyone, positions. Take no prisoners, it’s time to send a message.”

And as if they were just waiting for those words, the mad scramble on deck gets madder. Hyunjin disappears from his side and Jisung just stands there, blind and dumb, before he gets jostled to the side again, this time by Chan who tells him to stand by, as him, Changbin and two other pirates start lugging up cannonballs from the hold of the ship and load them into the cannons.

Before he can panic any more, Hyunjin is back, his hands full of weapons.

“Okay, I don’t know your preference, but I brought you a number of things. You look like you’d be a good shot, but just in case, I’ve also brought a cutlass …”

Jisung is just about to reach out, to comment that he can hold his own with any of the weapons Hyunjin is holding out to him, when he’s so suddenly and so violently yanked back that he chokes out a yelp. The first cannon shot from their ship rips through the air as Jisung’s hands scrabble at his collar, trying to pull it a little looser, fighting for his breath, but whoever’s dragging him is too strong, pulling him backwards so fast all he can do is try to stay upright. When he finally manages to twist around, he is met with Lee Minho’s side profile, and his confusion evaporates into scalding anger.

Fucking Minho. Lee Minho, the one person on this ship that has steadfastly refused any and all of Jisung’s attempts to become closer. And it’s not like Jisung needs to be friends with everyone on the ship, it’s just that Minho seems to be; despite his abrasive personality, Minho seems to be getting along with absolutely everyone. And what’s worse is that Minho didn’t just reject his advances, no, Minho left him to flounder, blinking at him emptily or just walking away. It was humiliating, and Jisung hates feeling humiliated.

“Hey, what the fuck!” he yells, choking when Minho drags at his collar even harder.

“Clearly your uncle has sent someone to fetch you,” Minho spits out, and Jisung is just about to scoff and tell him that’s very unlikely, when Minho hauls him upright and slams him against the main mast so hard, Jisung’s skull knocks against the wood.

“Fucking OW, you asshole!” Jisung spits, the world spinning in front of his eyes just long enough for Minho to reach behind him, and before he knows it, there’s a rope tightly wrapped around Jisung’s upper body, his arms trapped by his sides. Panic surges through his veins, and he struggles, struggles with all his might, but try as he might, he can’t stop Minho, who winds the rope around him and the mast once, twice, then again and again, before he pulls a tight knot and steps back, grinning a joyless, self-satisfied grin that makes Jisung’s blood boil.

“What the fuck?!” he hisses breathlessly, and Minho’s eyes narrow.

“Who’s to say you didn’t plan this, hm?” Minho growls, scarily calm, and Jisung’s heart drops. “Who says you didn’t plan for us to capture you, to worm your way into our crew, to learn all about us –“

“What?! No!” Jisung stutters out, desperately. He meets Hyunjin’s eyes over Minho’s shoulder and … his friend, who he was gossiping with just ten minutes ago, is now staring at him, eyes wide, doubt shadowing his entire face. A cannon ball hits the water just short of the ship, but it rings hollow.

“I’m not letting you run back to them and sell us out,” Minho yells, his voice so cold it makes Jisung’s skin crawl, his chest constrict with senseless despair. Some men stop, watch, just look on as he is berated for something he has never even thought of doing. So much for the people on this ship being ‘family’. He blinks away the angry tears rising to his eyes, chases the thought and all the pain it brings away, and focuses instead on the boiling pit of rage deep in his belly. He stokes it, feeds it, until there’s bile in his throat.

“What part of ‘my uncle wants me dead’ did you not understand?!” he yells, his voice a colour of rancour and bitterness that he’s never heard from himself before. It makes Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrow in worry, and Jisung tries not to cling onto it.“Could’ve just been a part

of your scheme,” Minho just shrugs, turns, walks away and Jisung nearly screams in frustration. He can feel all their eyes on him, humiliation boiling in his guts.

“I told you I’m not a good liar,” he yells after Minho, catching Hyunjin’s curious gaze and then, finally, turning to the captain, who’s standing on the forecastle, her pretty face a stony, unreadable mask. Chan fires the cannon again, but she doesn’t even flinch. There’s a distant sound of wood splintering.

“Captain, please,” Jisung pleads. God, he sounds pathetic. “Do you think I’ve been lying to you?”

But the captain gives nothing away, watches Jisung’s heart bleed out on the deck of the ship, and just blinks. And when another cannon shot rings over the water, she briefly turns around in the direction of the coming ship, before she gives Jisung a pained smile.

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” she says calmly, and Jisung thinks he can hear a tinge of regret, of uncertainty in her voice. He wishes it wasn’t there.

“But keeping my crew safe is the most important thing. We can’t take any chances. And we’ll keep you safe.”

And then she gestures for everyone to keep preparing and that’s it; Hyunjin gives Jisung one more sad, puzzled look and then follows the motion that breaks out everywhere, hurrying back downstairs to grab more weapons. Chan and Changbin are firing faster now, more frequently, and Hyunjin soon returns with weapons and hands them out. Jeongin is hanging in the sails, his eyes trained on the coming ship, yelling instructions about their approach to Seungmin at the helm, about the number and armaments of their crew to the captain on the forecastle. Jisung is apart from all this, can feel the rope cut into the skin of his hip where his shirt has rucked up, feel his heart thumping in his chest.

As Jisung watches Chan and Changbin load, fire and reload the cannons, he suddenly realises with a shudder that his position against the mast is facing the incoming ship head-on. It’s the side they will board from, the side they will be shooting at – and suddenly, he wonders if Minho is trying to get him killed.

The captain had said they’d keep him safe. She had promised … but maybe Jisung was being naïve again, and it didn’t matter what a pirate promised. His uncle had always said so, said to never trust them because they only worked for their own gain, their own riches. The captain had seemed different, but maybe it was all Jisung’s wishful thinking, his stupidly desperate need for a way out. And then again, he had never trusted Minho. He’d wanted to, had tried so damn hard, only for Minho to shove it back in his face, humiliate him for even trying. Maybe Jisung should’ve taken the hint.When the

cause of all Jisung’s rage suddenly walks past him, Jisung strains against his ties and yells his name. Minho barely stops enough to look at him.

“I’m going to get killed,” Jisung hisses, motioning to the approaching ship with his chin, “I’m going to be right here when they arrive, and I’m going to get fucking killed. You’re going to get me killed.”

Minho stops at that, and walks closer, his eyes as menacing as ever, but Jisung has had enough. He decides right then and there that he will never cower before Lee Minho ever again.

Minho stops so close in front of him, that Jisung has to strain his neck to look up at him. He knows Minho’s doing it on purpose, and the scowl on Jisung’s face deepens, his lips pulling back into a snarl.

Then Minho leans closer, one hand supporting himself on the mast of the ship as he dips down into Jisung’s space so nonchalantly it makes Jisung want to punch him. His body feels like it’s burning up when Minho’s breath fans over his face.

“I won’t let that happen, princess,” Minho purrs with a mean snarl, and the nickname makes something in Jisung’s ribcage crack open. His rage returns with full force, burning deep in his guts in a way he has never felt before.

“I’ll fucking show you ‘princess’, asshole,” he spits and Minho just sizes him up for a second, an infuriating smirk on his face, before he pushes himself away from the mast and Jisung and walks away without another word.

And all Jisung can do is watch, watch him go to the captain who stares at the oncoming ship, eyes flicking to Minho restlessly as he places a calming hand on her shoulder; watch as Chan and Changbin throw him wayward glances every time they pass him to load the cannon, watch everyone on the ship run around, watch Hyunjin handing out weapons to everyone but him because he has been forced to watch and potentially die by the hands of the men he hates the most. Jisung feels thin, sour bile rise in his throat as he watches the enemy ship come closer and closer until it’s finally within boarding distance.

And when it is, the first thing Jisung sees is the face of the man he hoped he would never have to see again. His stomach churns and it’s like the whole world fades for a second, the unbidden memory of the crash of the locks on his door giving way, of the pig’s ugly grimace in the light of the oil lamp next to Jisung’s bed, Jisung’s own panicked breaths ringing through his ears, of thick, dirty fingers wrapped around Jisung’s wrists and then shoved down his pants before Jisung could finally grab hold of the knife underneath his pillow and bury it in the man’s thigh, the rage in his voice when he promised he’d be back ….

The plank hits the wood of the ship and the men, none except the one Jisung knows from ‘his’ ill-fated crew, but all clearly his uncle’s cronies, are ruthless and unhesitating in their assault. One charges at Chan, who can barely get his knife out of its holster before the man’s fist comes flying at his head. Another one heads for the captain, raises his gun to aim at her head, but is interrupted by Minho, cold-blooded murder in his eyes as he rams his knife into the man’s guts and walks him back and overboard.

There’s movement in the corner of Jisung’s eye, and he tries to whip around, but the ropes are cutting just high enough that he can’t, and then he feels a fist collide with his nose. Thankfully, there isn’t a crunch but searing pain and the taste of blood explode on his tongue and he reels back. He tries to blink the world back into focus because his opponent is getting closer and closer and his ears are ringing and his vision swims, but by a lucky break, he manages to land a solid kick to the guy’s groin. The man falters, doubles over, before raising his knife with a grimace of rage and approaching Jisung again, but he gets intercepted by a blur of raven hair.

“Oh no, you don’t” Minho’s voice crackles through the air and then there’s a sickening crunch as Minho’s breaks the man’s arm. Hyunjin is right behind him, whizzing past him and dealing with Jisung’s attacker as Minho approaches Jisung, the eyes that were so full of boiling resentment earlier scanning all over him now with a cold kind of care. Even his demeanour is softer when he approaches and wipes the blood trickling from Jisung’s nose away with his thumb. The touch makes rage and electricity spark all over Jisung’s skin and Jisung jerks away, though he doesn’t know whether it’s the stab of pain or the Minho’s touch he tries to get away from. Minho pulls his hand back as if he’s been burned, blinking at Jisung and throwing a glance towards where the captain is fighting, before he takes a step back.

“Told you I would watch out for you,” he simply says and turns around, bounding away and up the forecastle to cuts off another man approaching his captain. Jisung watches him, how methodically he attacks the man, how he takes him down efficiently and quickly, his eyes on his attackers’ hands and always, always on the captain, and he briefly wonders what it would be like to be defended so fiercely. When he lets his eyes wander, he suddenly makes eye contact with him.

The pig is already staring at Jisung, leering at him when he sees Jisung and a senseless, primal panic shoots through his body, makes his hands claw at the wood of the mast, the rope, anything, trying to escape, but Minho truly outdid himself. The man sneers out a vicious, bilious “hello, princess” and Jisung has to bite back a panicked whimper. The nickname. The voice. Weak, Jisung, his uncle, bellows in his head. Yes, he is, Jisung accepts. He is weak.

“I can’t believe they’ve got you tied up here, for me for the taking,” the man chuckles darkly as he approaches, “not like your uncle wants you back. But I will have my fun with you before I kill you.”

Jisung desperately strains against the rope again, ignores the burn of it breaking the skin on his waist, but he still can’t get out. Fucking Minho. The man comes closer until Jisung can see the dark rot in his teeth, the fetid pink of his cheeks, and his stomach churns.

“I should’ve thought of tying you up first,” the pig goads and a few drops of his drool hit Jisung’s cheek, and it shocks a violent gag from him, “maybe then you wouldn’t have put up such a fight.”

The smell of the man’s breath makes Jisung’s head swim with the memory, and he screws his eyes shut, heaving out another dry gag that makes the man laugh loudly.

“What a pretty sound, princess,” he drawls, and the nausea in Jisung’s belly rises up in one last resistance, like venomous rage. He pries open his eyes, faces him and spits in his face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Jisung hisses, his voice shaky but laced with hatred.

The pig’s shocked face makes way for a grimace of anger, and he raises his hand and Jisung closes his eyes, braces for impact, hopes he can somehow avoid a concussion so he can still run – but the impact never comes. He blinks his eyes open and blinks at the hand that’s still raised, though there are lithe fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist.

“You put one finger on him and I will gut you alive.”

Minho’s voice is calm and cutting, but the pig doesn’t seem to know what’s good for him because he only guffaws out a laugh.

“Ah, I see you’ve already claimed the little whore. I’m sure we can come to an agreement, share his holes before we dispose of him.”

There’s a second of silence, utter, poisonous silence as Jisung watches the expression on Minho’s face go from disdain to putrid hatred and then his hand is wound around the man’s throat, squeezing so hard the pig retches, fights for air, as Minho pushes him away from Jisung.

He shoves him, makes the man stumble backwards, double over, gasping, but Minho doesn’t stop, places his hands square on the man’s shoulders and rams his knee into his face twice. There’s a sickening crunch, then another, and Jisung thrashes against the mast. The rope cutting into his stomach makes him even more nauseous, but he needs to get out.

“Minho, let me go,” he rasps out, loud enough that he knows Minho heard him, but Minho doesn’t move, only drags the pig up and lands his knee into his guts.

“Minho,” Jisung warns, his whole body burning. This is his revenge. How dare he take this from him. “Minho, I swear, let me go.”

But Minho keeps ignoring him.

“Let me GO!” Jisung screams, the last word piercing the air with such ferocious anger that Minho stops in his tracks. “Let me fucking go, Minho, that fucker is mine, he’s fucking mine to gut, let. me. GO.”

Minho stares at him, his usual scowl nowhere to be seen as he blinks, and then he takes one step closer, raises his knife and cuts through the ropes.

Jisung nearly falls from the sudden lack of support, but he catches himself, and gets up, legs shaky and uneven, but when he meets the guy’s eyes, his rage boils over. He wrenches Minho’s cutlass from his hands, ignoring the weak complaint, and stalks towards the man whose face has been haunting him in his sleep for months.

The pig puts up a fight, but he’s sluggish and slow, and he barely gets a punch in before Jisung socks him in his face so hard he stumbles back. Jisung’s body is no longer his own. It’s controlled by blind hatred, a violence so strong it feels almost cleansing, and before he knows it, his fist hits the side of the guy’s skull and his boot hits his balls. The guy wails and Jisung revels in it, adrenaline cursing through his veins when he finally pulls back and sinks the long blade of his cutlass into the man’s stomach. Then he does it again and there’s blood, so much blood, but he doesn’t care. Only stabs him one more time before dragging him to the side of the ship, propping him up just enough so he can look at the man’s rapidly paling, terrified face.

“Go to hell,” Jisung growls before he shoves him enough so he falls off the side of the ship. He stares into the terrified eyes of the man of his nightmares, watches him flail, red clouding the water as he tries to keep himself but failing to. When the waves close over his head and pull him under, it feels like a weight falls off Jisung’s chest and the first breath he takes, no matter how ragged it is, feels like the first breath of relief.

But he can’t stare into the water forever. He avoids Minho’s gaze when he turns around, focuses instead on Hyunjin, desperately defending himself in an uneven fist fight with one of his uncle’s men that he hadn’t yet had the displeasure of meeting, and he takes the few steps towards them, kicks the guy’s knees out from under him so roughly that he crumbles into the deck with a cry of pain. Hyunjin yelps and jumps to the side just in time to avoid the blood when Jisung’s knife sinks deep into the man’s throat. Jisung can feel it seep through his clothes.

When he looks up at Hyunjin, the latter is staring at him wide-eyed. There’s a dark bruise blooming on Hyunjin’s cheekbone, and Jisung grimaces.

“You okay?” he asks and Hyunjin just stares at him for a second, with something in his eyes that Jisung can’t find it in himself to decode, before he nods. Jisung nods back and stalks off, intercepting another asshole and making quick work of him, the balance of the blade in his hand growing on him as he finally lets his brain turn off and just do.

And it doesn’t take long before the last man has been disposed of, the captain’s crew a bloody, bruised mess, but with no casualties on their side. Jisung watches as Changbin looks at the captain, who’s standing in their midst as tall as ever, her demeanour as calm and collected as before the fight, despite her split and bruised lip, the blood caked into her hair. She makes a terrifying picture like this, eyes so sharp they could cut glass, her chest heaving, the muscles in her arm jumping when she sheathes her cutlass.

“Loot and burn it. Look for another one of those maps. Make sure the governor will never find a trace of this ship.”

Changbin nods, bows almost imperceptibly, waves over some more men, and they set to work, boarding the now hauntingly empty ship with their knives drawn.

Jisung doesn’t stay to watch. When he turns around to go, his eyes catch on Minho. For the first time maybe since they met, Minho doesn’t look at him with a scowl or some mask of disdain. No, for the first time, Minho just looks at him, eyes almost curious in the way they crinkle at the edges, his lips pursed uncertainly. Jisung bites back a bitter laugh at the timing of it all, and the flame in his stomach licks up once more, coiling high into his throat as he takes a step towards him.

The clatter of his blood stained knife falling to the floor echoes sharply in the silence of the whole ship watching them. But nobody moves to stop Jisung as he stalks towards Minho, eyes locked onto his, dark anger in his eyes. Nobody moves even when Minho takes a few steps back, his eyes now the ones widening in fear, lighting a small fire of satisfaction in Jisung’s gut.

Nobody moves when Jisung pulls his fist back and punches Minho square in the jaw, the bones in his hand making contact with Minho’s chiseled jawline with a dull thud.

Jisung half expected all hell to break loose, expected to be intercepted or at least held back, taken captive after the fact. He’d accepted it, even, in return for this one opportunity to stand up to him.

But, nothing. Nobody moves to stop him. The whole crew watches as Minho reels back, stumbles, a hand flying to cradle his face. The look of surprise, of pain on Minho’s face is more satisfying than it should be, but Jisung has stopped caring.

He doesn’t look at anyone when he turns, stalks straight towards the big heavy door leading below deck, stumbles down the stairs and through the empty common area and into Felix and his cabin. He locks the door behind himself and then his legs give out and he finally, finally, cries.

He doesn’t know how much time passes like that, his body crumpled on the hard wooden floor of the cabin, the last rays of sunlight streaming through the porthole virtually mocking him as bone wrenching sobs tear through him, tears streaming down his cheeks and leaving darker spots on the already blood-darkened material of his jacket. But at some point, the sobs subside, his body empty and tired and brittle. When his nose clears, all he can smell is the drying blood, and it nearly makes him gag. So he gets up, one hand on the chest of drawers to help him stay upright, and turns around. When he sees himself in the mirror behind the door, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He’s covered in blood, the least of it is his own. A smear of it across his cheek, pale tear tracks running through it, the rest of it on his clothes, rusty red soaked and dried into the white of his shirt, staining the red of his coat an even darker colour. He briefly wonders if it will come out because … Hyunjin made him that coat. His stomach drops a little, makes the nausea worse. Maybe it all won’t matter any more soon.

He wipes a semi clean part of his sleeve over his face with a scoff, tries to hide the worst evidence of his crying, before he gathers his courage and steps out into the hallway.

But he doesn’t meet anyone as he makes his way to the ship’s baths. It seems odd, but he’s beyond questioning it, his chest an empty pit, his eyes red and raw from the panicked sobs that racked through him for a solid hour. He lights the logs that heat up the water, shrugs off his jacket, gingerly, hesitantly throws it into the corner with the laundry where there are other bloodstained shirts and garments and fills one of the three wooden tubs to the brim.

The water scalds his skin a little as he gets in, but he ignores it, welcomes it almost. Much like the rage earlier, the heat feels cleansing, though also equally soothing, the smell of salt and lavender rising from the suds. He ignores the sharp pain of the soap sinking in the rope burns on his hips.

He sits and listens, waits for a sound to come from the outside, but it’s eerily quiet. There must be about 35 other pirates on this ship, all covered in grime and blood, aching for a bath just like him, so he has no doubts now; he’s sure that someone must have told them not to come down here, to give him space. Maybe Hyunjin or Felix. He wishes he knew why.

He’s dead, he thinks. Then again. He’s dead. A tiny, fragile laugh bubbles out of his chest. He’s finally fucking dead. For good. Forever. Never again.

Jisung thinks about it, wonders why this one’s different, but the answer is simple – because all the other ones who had touched him over the years, the ones who had grabbed his ass in the hallways of his father’s house, forced drunken kisses onto him at his uncle’s banquets, none of them had had that look in their face that the pig had when the hinges had finally given way and the door swung open. None of them had looked so entirely bloodthirsty as they approached him …

He shivers, but it’s okay. He's calm. It’s over now.

When he scrubs at his hair, the water turns red and the smell of iron mixes with the steam, and it’s so putrid it makes his stomach turn, so he slowly lifts himself out of the tub. He dresses quietly, his chest awfully empty. He wonders where they all are. Maybe they’re on the deck, talking about what to do with him. He wonders if Minho’s face will bruise because he almost hopes so. Or maybe he’s already with the captain in her quarters …

The captain. Her betrayal hurts the most. It fills him with a deep, searing sense of shame and hurt. He had expected Minho to be cold, to not trust him, after he had rebuked so many of Jisung’s attempt to bridge the gap. But her?

It’s humiliating, but some part of him thought he was … special to her. She had offered him a spot on her crew on that first night, had instructed her men to treat him well, had taken him on even after he’d put his foot in his mouth more than once. She’d held him through his panic attack, looked at him like she understood him, and he’d thought she had … they had – god, he’s stupid. She’d said it then, it was part of her job. He shouldn’t be getting attached, not to a pirate, not to his captain, not to his captain who was probably fucking …

God, he’s so fucking stupid.

The corridors are still deserted, but through the silence, he hears the clatter of plates from the mess, and he realises how late it must be. He briefly wonders if he can get away with not eating, hiding away in his and Felix’s cabin until Felix comes back later, but his stomach growls loudly. And he hates avoiding things. If they were going to shun him, he’d rather know now.

His feet steadily carry him through the living area, though he falters briefly in front of the two big swinging doors, his heart thundering in his chest. He swallows down the fear, tries to steel himself for the worst, and then he pushes open the doors.

Conversation around the room wavers as the men’s eyes fall on him, but before he can think too hard about it, two lithe arms are thrown over his shoulders and long, and he is pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so sorry,” Hyunjin mumbles into his neck, his long black hair tickling Jisung’s cheek and Jisung blinks stupidly, his heart trying to catch up as he wraps his arms around Hyunjin’s waist. He feels himself squeezing him back, his hands trembling where they lie.

Hyunjin squeezes him even harder before he pulls back and looks at him with big, apologetic eyes.

“I’m so sorry. We’re so sorry,” Hyunjin sniffles out and Jisung is speechless, overwhelmed, can only shake his head dumbly.

He lets his eyes flicker over the room and to his surprise, he doesn’t find any hostility or distrust, only … he blinks dumbly. Only awkward regret, hesitant smiles and apologetic looks. Felix comes up to them and peels Hyunjin off Jisung, pulling him closer to their table, where the usual group, except for Chan, is already gathered.

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” Hyunjin rambles, one of his hands latching around Jisung’s arm. “I should’ve known better, I should’ve … said something. But Minho …”

He falters and Felix takes over. Jisung is still frozen in place.

“Minho is … protective of this, of us, of our crew. And usually, his gut feelings are right. But he made a wrong call.”

The scoff claws its way out of Jisung’s chest before he can stop it. The bitterness is noxious.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to him. Like, I know he hates me for some reason, but I didn’t think he would try to get me killed.”

The doors to the mess swing open and Jisung doesn’t even have to turn around to know who it is when he sees Felix’s face darken, his eyebrows drawing together as he looks over Jisung’s shoulder and tugs him closer. The looks of disapproval and the dead silence around the room should make Jisung feel elated, should make him feel vindicated, but when he turns around sees the look on Minho’s face, he almost feels … bad.

There’s a big, purple bruise on his jaw where Jisung’s fist had landed. He stares back at the room full of scowls with a pale uncertainty that Jisung has never seen on him, hell, never thought he would be capable of. It’s such a far cry from his usual grouchy arrogance that it’s almost scary. When Minho turns and finally makes eye contact with Jisung, still wedged between Hyunjin and Felix, Felix’s arm around his shoulders and Hyunjin’s hand on his arm, his eyes are hazy.

He takes one almost step, before he stops himself, grimacing as he squares his shoulders and fixes Jisung with an uneven look, one that wavers away from him after not even a second. His usually cutting voice floats through the air uncertainly, though Jisung can tell he’s doing his best to keep it steady.

“The captain wants to see you. On the deck.”

And with that, he turns and escapes into the kitchen. Jisung turns back to Hyunjin and Felix with a thousand questions on his face. But Felix only gives Jisung a reassuring squeeze before gesturing to the door. Even Hyunjin only nods at him and pushes him towards the door. And Jisung goes, almost as in a trance, but he throws a glance back before they close behind him. He sees Felix and Hyunjin watching him go, regretful smiles on their faces. Through the windows in the door to the kitchen, he sees Minho’s slumped over form over the kitchen counter. For a brief second, he wonders if this will be the last time he’ll see them. He blinks away the fist closing around his heart and takes the steps up to the deck two at a time before his courage fails him.

The clear night air, the chilly breeze that blows, it nearly knocks him off his feet, rushing into his lungs like a cold drink of water. He looks up at the sky, clear, full of stars. Beautiful, all the way out here, so many bright little glimmers, bunched together and winking at him like they always have, always will. He thinks he can hear Jeongin’s voice somewhere above him, singing softly, and then someone says his name.

The captain is sitting on the railing to Jisung’s left, a dark brown bottle in her hands. As Jisung walks closer, he sees how tired she looks. Her hair is still a little damp from where she presumably had to also wash blood out of it, and instead of her usual heavy coat, she’s wearing some kind of thick knitted jacket. She looks … nice like this, Jisung can’t help but think. Softer.

He stops a few feet in front of her and knits his fingers together in front of him. She just looks at him for a few seconds before she sighs and pats the spot next to her.

He sits gingerly, awkwardly, preoccupied as he is with trying to keep a reasonable distance between them. He doesn’t know how to deal with her touching him today. She offers the bottle to him wordlessly, and he takes it, taking a deep drink, swallowing the burning alcohol down without even flinching. It feels weird on his painfully empty stomach, but in the same theme of things, it also feels cleansing. Jeongin’s voice floats down from above them more clearly now. His voice is soft, full of emotions, a fluttering, beautiful thing in the night.

“Beautiful,” he mumbles to himself before he can stop it.

The captain laughs, small and shy.

“Isn’t it? I come out here a lot at night, just to hear him sing. I don’t even know if he knows.”

There it is again, Jisung thinks, her unwavering love for this, this life, this ship, this crew. He wants so badly to be enveloped by it, too, that it makes him look a fool. Jeongin’s song ends, and Jisung shivers.

“I’m sorry,” the captain says suddenly, and Jisung sucks in a breath. He doesn’t lift his eyes, doesn’t trust himself to. He takes another swig of rum, longer this time. It still burns, but his stomach feels like it’s going numb now.

The captain still hesitates, and Jisung nervously picks at the remnants of the label on the bottle.

“I’m sorry for today. I made … a wrong call. A very wrong call.”

Jisung scoffs.

“Technically, Minho did.” The captain laughs humourlessly, extends her hand towards the bottle and Jisung hands it to her, hates how his heart flutters in his chest when her fingers brush over his. She takes a long drink, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, but I didn’t stop him,” she says quietly, “because usually, Minho’s gut feelings are right, so I don’t oppose him. But today, I should’ve.”

Jisung shrugs, his heart aching in his chest.

“No, don’t do that,” the captain sighs and Jisung, in his surprise, lifts his head and looks at her. There’s a tortured smile on her face. “Don’t pretend like it’s okay. It’s not. I … I didn’t think you would go back to them, I didn’t think you could’ve lied to us all. And I should’ve said something. I promised you we’d keep you safe, that we’re family, and then I just left you there.”

A traitorous tear spills from Jisung’s eyes before he can stop it, and he wipes it away quickly with a quiet fuck.

The captain reaches out, her fingers wrapping around Jisung’s arm, and Jisung freezes, both from the suddenness and the gentle authority that seems to flow from her hands through a touch as simple as that.

“Don’t do that, either. I like seeing how you feel,” she says quietly and Jisung blinks stupidly, the tears clearing to reveal her face and … god, the softness in her gaze on him, her features bathed in moonlight – the longing hits him square in the chest, takes his breath away for a second.

But it passes, fizzles out into a moment of silence and Jisung weighs his next words for a while, before he decides to just ask. If there’s anyone who can give him an answer, it’s her. A bitter thought.

“Why does he hate me?”

The captain doesn’t ask who.

“I don’t know. I don’t think he hates you, he just … doesn’t understand you, doesn’t know what to do with you.”

Jisung just nods absentmindedly. Not like understands Minho any better.

“He wouldn’t have let you get killed,” the captain adds after a few seconds of silence. She sounds hesitant. “He didn’t want you getting hurt, either. He really beat himself up about that guy punching you when he wasn’t looking. That’s how I know he doesn’t hate you. He wouldn’t have done that for someone he hates.”

Jisung sighs and nods and takes the bottle the captain is holding out in his direction again. He throws his head back and takes a long drink that he swallows without looking at her. After a few more seconds of silence, the captain gets up. Jisung tries not to feel too disappointed. He thinks he could’ve sat with her like this all night.

“I …” she starts and stops, running her hand through her hair nervously. Jisung wishes he could reach out, soothe her nerves, just like she had done with him that day on this very same deck. “I don’t usually do this because, frankly, it’s fucking stupid and could get me and my crew killed, but you seem to keep making me make these decisions …”

She trails off before she gestures over to her left. Jisung follows her eyes.

“I’m giving you an out. There’s a boat. In it, there’s a compass and more than enough rations to last you for the two days it should take you to reach the nearest port. You’ll probably make it just fine.”

Jisung stares from the boat to her, stupidly. He wonders if he would see her blush if it wasn’t so dark.

“I … wish you wouldn’t leave, if I can be honest, but I know it’s too much to ask you to trust us again, after what happened today. And I’d rather take this risk than force you to stay with us if you don’t trust us. So I will take my leave now, and you can make up your mind and if you’re gone in the morning then … well, I hope our paths will cross again. Goodbye, Jisung.”

Jisung watches her turn, wrapping her cardigan closer around herself. It doesn’t take him longer than a few of her steps to know what he wants.

He catches up with her by the heavy door, takes one awkward step forward and grasps the knob before she can. He swings the door open, gives her a sheepish smile, before he motions for her to go through. She breathes out a disbelieving chuckle at his sudden moment of gentlemanly chivalry, and heat rises to his cheeks before he can stop it. But she doesn’t say anything, only walks through the door he holds open and hesitates where the path divides, looking at Jisung with that gaze again, the one that makes him feel like he's paper thin, his soul laid bare.

He gives her the best smile he can muster.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly, but resolutely. “Goodnight, captain.”

And with a little bow, his heart beating in his throat, he turns on his heels and makes his way to the stairs leading to his cabins.

< chapter III - chapter V (coming: friday, april 5, 3pm CET) >

series masterlist // skzms masterlist // kofi

🔖 series taglist and general taglist open! be 18+ and have your age in bio when you ask to be added

taglist part 1: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148 @caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja @maximumkillshot @sungprotector @stayconnecteed @mellhwang @chlodavids @kookiesbunny @noellllslut @warren-thedarkangel @kidrauhlschik @anyhow-everything @krishastumblernow @cutiespaghetti @hobi-szn @usagi---mochi @stolasisyourparent @steadysuitenthusiast @queen-in-the-shadows

@ayoitschannie @starsandrqindrops @redstayrosie @vitrealisbunny @seukijeuxq @bakedlilgoonie @bookworm731 @jazziwritesthings @katsukis1wife @minhos4thkitty @gbskzlover @armystay89 @chuwii3o @foivetimesacharm @palindrome969 @luvyev @binnies-binna @gimmeurtmi @ashareeboobear @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @staysinbloom @f1wh0r3 @mnwrld @linocz @linosssss

Do you think you could do felix with a reader that takes a long time to cum and is super insecure about it but he reassures her that he would love to try and make her cum even if it takes her a long time (and it does) but he actually does it and she's so shocked. Thank you!!!

𝐭𝐰: female anatomy ; mentioning of faking orgasms ; reader has had shitty exes who made her feel bad ; poor communication at the very beginning ; oral sex and fingering (f receiving) ; dirty talk ; ♡

𝐰𝐜: 2,1k ; ♡

a/n: i’m not suuuper proud of this but i had a lil writer’s block so…. also, i edited this on my phone so it might be shit shxhsh. hope u like this anon!! ♡

this contains smut. minors dni. 18+ only.

Lying in bed, spent and out of breath, Felix wonders what he did wrong.

You didn’t cum, that much is very clear to him. And it’s not that he’s offended or questioning his skills, he’s just really confused about it. He felt you clenching around him, and you did moan just a pitch higher. Did you try faking your orgasm hoping he wouldn’t notice? Did he really fuck you that badly? Maybe he should’ve communicated better, checked up with you more, asked if you were enjoying yourself.

He’d been shoved away from your pussy when he was giving you head earlier, you tugging at his hair to get him to stop eating you out. He’d been lapping at your clit for minutes when you’d muttered out a breathy “I need you now”. Now that he thinks about it, the very same thing had happened when he’d fingered you the first two times you slept together. And you didn’t cum that that day either at this point, Felix is sure.

You’ve slept together twice now and you faked your orgasms both times. Felix feels he should bring this up before it’s too late and it becomes a routine for you. Only… how? He wouldn’t want to make you feel bad about it, he just genuinely wants to understand if there’s anything he could do to really pleasure you the way you deserve.

Coming back inside the room a couple of minutes later after freshening up, you immediately notice that Felix looks lost in his thoughts. Nevertheless, he smiles at you once he witnesses your presence inside the room and pats the empty spot next to him, implying for you to come lie down and cuddle, which you do, resting your head on his chest and throwing your leg across his lap as he covers the both of you.

The room smells awfully like sex, which is a constant reminder to Felix that he has to talk to you. Your relationship is at its early stage, and he wants to talk this through with you before everything crumbles - sex might not be the most important aspect in a relationship, but communication is, and Felix needs you to know you’re completely safe to talk to him. He wants you to tell him if he’s not doing something right in bed.

He really, really likes you and wants to be with you for a very long time, that’s why it’s so important that you trust him with this kind of things.

“Baby?” His deep, hoarse voice vibrates in his chest, “you good? You’re not sore, are you?”

He feels you shaking your head. “Nope, just tired, but I’m good. Are you?”

Physically, yes, but his own brain is killing him with the constant overthinking.

“Yeah,” he just answers while thinking of an efficient way to bring up the fact he suspects you faked your orgasms.

Thankfully, though, you kind of do it for him.

“Did you… did you like it?” You ask timidly, feeling kind of stupid for asking, but the way he looks so deep in thought is kind of making you feel self conscious.

“Of course I did,” he doesn’t sound like he’s lying, and you sigh out of relief when he pulls you closer and kisses your head. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, but Felix knows you’re sugarcoating the truth to him somehow, and he hates it.

“Baby,” he mumbles after a while - a deep sigh follows the petname. “I know you faked it.”

Blood runs cold in your veins. You open your mouth to justify yourself, thinking he’s mad at you or something, but he beats you to it. He sits up on the mattress, and you do the same, however you keep your head down, not meeting his eyes.

“Felix, baby…”

“Before you say anything, I just want you to know I’m not mad at you. I just… don’t understand? I mean, is there something I’m doing wrong? Is there something I can do better? You can tell me, baby. I won’t get mad at you, I could never.”

You shake your head, fidgeting with the hem of your pajama shorts. Taking a deep breath, you shake your head as a no, “you’re not doing anything wrong, I promise.”

“Then what is it, baby?” He asks, voice full of concern - he wants you to help him understand. “I want you to always have a good time when we sleep together. I don’t want you to experience disappointing sex with me and feel like you have to fake it to spare my feelings. We’re a couple, you should tell me if you don’t like something I’m doing. Even- even when I give you oral or try to finger you, you never finish, you just push me away after a couple of minutes.”

The room falls awkwardly quiet after Felix’s words, until you finally find the courage to speak and tell him the truth, even though it’s embarrassing - to you, at least.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you begin. “It just… it takes me a while to, you know… cum. A long while,” you sigh. “You… I like everything you do to me, baby, it’s just… it takes really long, and I wouldn’t want you to get bored or anything.”

“Baby, just… why on earth would I get bored eating you out or fucking you? I don’t understand, you know I’d die between your thighs, baby.”

His words go straight to your core, and you’re sure you’re red in the face by now.

“You say that now. But I can assure you, you will get bored.”

All of your exes did, after all. But if there’s one thing your relationship with Felix has taught you, is that he’s nothing like your exes.

“Baby,” he says in a serious tone, “I won’t,” he assures you. “I know I won’t, and I’ll be honored if you ever want me to try to make you cum, baby, but only if it’s something you want. You know I’d never pressure you into anything, baby.”

“You mean… right now?”

Felix pulls you in his lap, his arms around your waist. “Whenever you want to. If you want round two right now I’m down.”

You’d be lying if you said you aren’t horny right now, especially when Felix’s underneath you, completely shirtless and only in his boxers. However, you can’t help but feel a little anxious. After all, Felix knows you’ve been faking your orgasms and he’s willing to try his hand at making you cum. What if you don’t?

Felix can’t help but notice you’re too much in your own head, so he places two fingers under your chin and delicately lifts your head to meet your eyes. “We don’t have to. It was just a suggestion, baby.”

You shift in his lap and he makes a pained sound, already getting hard. “No! It’s not that. I want to, it’s just… I’m scared to disappoint you.”

He pulls your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ears. “You could never disappoint me. Understand?” He looks you in the eye as he speaks.

You nod. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” he whispers on your lips, “now let me eat you out like you deserve.”

Sprawled on the bed with Felix between your thighs, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous as he slides your panties down your thighs, letting them fall on the floor. Felix, however, looks completely enamoured with your pretty pussy.

When he places the first kiss on top of your thigh, your body jolts. “It’s gonna take a while.”

“Relax, baby,” another kiss on your inner thigh, “don’t think too much. Just lie down and enjoy yourself.”

Felix takes his time peppering your skin with soft kisses, all the way until his lips finally reach your most sensitive spot. You squirm when he licks a stripe that goes from your entrance to your clit, and his head immediately snaps in your direction. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, felt good.”

Felix smirks and licks his lips, licking another stripe on your pussy, and then wrapping his lips around your clit, humming as he buries his face deep in your cunt. He keeps sucking and licking and lapping at your most delicate spot. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, and the wet, squelching sounds he makes are the only thing that can be heard, together with your heavy breaths.

It feels nice, really nice, but you don’t feel close yet. Maybe it’s because you can’t really empty your head and relax like Felix said.

“Felix, baby…” you try to entangle your fingers in his hair, “it’s… it’s okay if you wanna stop.”

Felix shakes his head, with his mouth full of your pussy. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbles, completely pussydrunk. “D’you want me to stop?”

“I don’t want you to get tired…”

Felix chuckles, sucking on your clit harder until you let out a whimper. You can’t see him, but Felix smirks satisfied. “Does it look like I’m getting tired, baby?” He lifts his head to look at you, and you can clearly see your arousal all over his chin, mixed with his spit. “I fuckin’ love eatin’ this pussy, baby. ’s so sweet. So fuckin’ sweet, baby, I could eat it all day.”

He grips your thighs harder, eats you out like a desperate man, very pleased with the moans you let out each time he sucks a little bit harder on your sensitive and swollen clit. Felix smiles to himself when he feels you clenching your thighs around his head, and this time he’s sure you’re not faking your reactions, because your legs are genuinely shaking. You arch your back when Felix inserts a finger inside of you slowly, inch by inch, and then a second finger, while his mouth is still on your clit. Your breathing gets quicker and quicker when he starts moving them in and out of you.

“You like it, yeah?” Felix slurs, fucking you with his fingers slow and deep, stimulating your g-spot over and over again. “You like it when I eat you out while I fuck you with my fingers, huh?”

You nod. It feels different than any of the other times you’ve done this. This time, you feel you could actually cum. “Like it. I like it, baby. Keep going, please. Don’t stop,” you whimper.

“Is my baby gonna cum f’me?” Felix kisses your clit sweetly. “Are you gonna cum for me f’real? Y’re not gonna fake it this time, baby, are you?”

You shake your head, legs desperately trembling - you can practically feel your orgasm, it’s there. Felix is about to make you cum for the first time. You moan when he latches his mouth back on your clit, eating you out and savoring the way you taste on his tongue. Entangling your fingers in his blond hair, you push him into your cunt as you feel yourself releasing in his mouth, arching your back.

“Baby, baby!” You moan, your whole body’s shaking, “‘m… ‘m…”

Your body falls back on the mattress, completely spent, chest rising and falling quickly. Felix pulls his fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the sheets to dry them as he lifts his head from your thighs. The lower part of his face is entirely covered in your release, and he manages to lick most of it to clean himself, wiping the rest away using the back of his hand before collapsing on the bed next to you with a grin on his face. Circling your waist with his arm, he pulls you closer so that you’re resting your head on his chest.

“I’m… I’m guessing you didn’t fake it this time, huh?” He jokes, breathing heavily himself.

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, blushing like crazy. “I didn’t, I really didn’t.” After a while, you say, “I’m sorry it took so long.”

Felix only pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head. “Ah, baby. What matters the most is that you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, baby. I liked it very much.”

“Good,” Felix reassures you. “I don’t mind going down on you or fucking you, baby. In fact, I love it. I’d spend the whole day buried between your sweet thighs, you know that.”

“Are you for real?” You can’t help but ask, lifting your head to meet his eyes.

Felix nods, then his gaze shifts to the large, watch patch on the front of his grey boxers. “Does it look like I’m lying, baby? Now gimme a couple of minutes and I’ll fuck you real good, too, baby, promise.”

-> reblog my works to show me your support! feedback means everything to me! ♡

You drew stars around my scars

Warning- Self Harm, overthinking

pairing- Bangchan x reader

Having Chan as your boyfriend meant getting random comforting hugs throughout the day. He made you feel appreciated and loved. He don't hesitate to comfort you, so why are you afraid of his reaction towards the news you're going to tell him?

Ever since you were 15 you began cutting yourself. At first you thought it was harmless, it was only an one time thing. However, you often found yourself cutting in order to cope up with your thoughts and feelings. You never really stopped cutting, all you did was take breaks and come back to it. At one point it felt like you needed to do it in order to keep up with the events taking place in your life.

However, when you met Chan you slowly found yourself leaning less towards cutting yourself and more towards actually expressing your feelings. But that doesn't mean your scar aren't still there. They were there right on your thighs. Even though you have stopped cutting yourself, you still can't seem to let go of those scars, it felt like you had an emotional bonding with them. Moreover, you never really showed your scars to anyone, too afraid to lose them over such a thing. You knew Chan was not going to have a toxic reaction but too many "what if's" questions slowly filled your head.

A hand on your thigh distracted you from your thoughts. "You zoned out, are you okay?" Chan asked you while moving his hand swiftly up and down your thigh as a sign of comfort. "I have something to tell you." You spoke but as you saw Chan's eyes widen, you clarified "we are not break up, don't worry."

You sat up from the bed and looked into Chan's curious eyes. "You know what, it will be easier if I just show it to you." you said as you hesitantly pulled your shorts upwards, exposing the scars. Just as you did that, your head immediately shot up to see Chan's reaction. The gentlemen's eyes turned from curiosity to empathy. He intertwined your hand into his, "I'm sorry" he said as he pulled you into a hug. You pulled away from the hug in confusion "Why are you sorry?". "I'm sorry I wasn't there with you when this happened, I knew how it feels and I whish you never have to be alone again."

As you were about to speak, Chan interrupted you by picking up a pen. He started drawing rough stars around your faded scars. "What's this for?" "I'm just doing this to make sure you know you're loved." Chan's reply immediately melted your heart and you couldn't help but pull him into a hug. You said, "You know, I love you so much." "Yeah I know that." His response made you lightly hit his shoulder ,"Don't get too cocky, babe." Chan laughed at your reaction. "Of course I love you, y/n."

sleepy cramps | b.c.

summary: your cramps wake you up but channie is there to help.

wc: 1.1k

warnings: i tried to keep it gender neutral, however!! periods and cramps are mentions so read at your own risk.

a/n: omg ash knows how to post at a normal time when she's not sleep deprived *gasp* crazy right? you guys know the drill not proof read too many pet names blah blah. i have realized that i apparently need alot of comfort in my life because that is all i write LMAO. anyway! i hope you guys enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3

p.s. pls send me some requests i really wanna try and branch out but i have no ideas, okay love u bye. <3

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

“baby?” you hear a familiar aussie voice call out. “i’m home!” you hear him take off his shoes and set his bag down. “baby?” he yells once more, keys jingling as he places them on a hook by the door.

you let out a grunt, hoping to signal to him where you were. you were currently bundled up half asleep in your shared bed, facing the door. you were exhausted from the day and your period, and barely keeping your eyes open. 

the hall light flicks on before a figure appears in the doorway. you lift up your head a bit, giving him a sleepy smile before settling back into your warm cocoon of soft blankets and plushies.

he smiles before making his way to the side of bed, squatting down to eye level with you. he lifts his hand, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “hi pretty.” your cheeks warm.

“hi bub.” you mumble. “you sleepy bug?” he asks softly. you nod, a yawn escaping you as if emphasizing your drowsiness.

he smiles, leaning forward to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “alright bub, give me 10 minutes to get ready for bed then i’ll come lay down okay?” you nod once more, sleepy smile still present on your face.

he moves,  placing a kiss on your lips before standing to his full height. “i’ll be right back!” he yelled, running into your en-suite. you giggle before relaxing into your cocoon, sleep welcoming you quickly.

once chan finished in the bathroom, he came out to find you curled up, now facing his side of the bed, soft even breathes escaping you.

he coos before making his way to his side of the bed. he lifted the sheets, sliding under them before gently pulling you to him, body melting into his.

he wraps his arms around you, “good night my sleepy baby, i love you.” he whispers, placing a kiss on your temple, before relaxing, letting sleep take over.

this didn’t last long however, chan lightly awoke maybe an hour later, to you stirring in your sleep, light whimpers escaping you. after hearing the first whimpers leave your mouth, he was very alert. he quickly looks over your body trying to determine what’s bringing you distress.

he catches a glimpse of your face, which is contorted in discomfort. he places a hand on your cheek once more, trying to gently wake you. “baby wake up.” he whispers, lightly tapping and stroking your cheek.

after a few seconds you finally wake, only to let out a yelp in pain, curling into the body beside you. “hey hey, baby, what’s going on?” he said kissing your head, rubbing your back.

“period.” you managed to get out, trying to curl further into yourself. one arm wrapped around your lower abdomen, the other one clenched into a fist against your forehead.

you start holding your breath unconsciously, praying the pain will subside. chan notices and gently taking your fist in his.

“breathe baby, breathe,” he says calmly, opening your fist to slot your fingers through his. you let out a jagged breath leaning your forehead against your joined hands, “squeeze my hand if you need to jagi but, you gotta breathe baby.” his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

you take a deep breath, trying to focus on anything over than the stabbing pain in your abdomen. “doing so good bug, just breathe.”  his other hand coming up to smooth the crease between your eyebrows. 

your breathing evens out slightly as the pain lessen a bit. a moment of silence passes before you sit up, hands still entwined. chan follows you, rubbing small circles on your back. “did you take medicine earlier?” you nod your head. “right before you got home.”  he hummed, understanding.

 “i’ll be right back, okay?” he whispers, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. you nod slightly, focusing on your breathing. he leans over, placing a kiss to the side of your head before getting up and making his way into the bathroom.

you grab a pillow behind you hugging it as you wait for him to return. a few moments passed before he reemerges with your heating pad in hand. he rounds the bed, plugging in the pad before sitting next to you.

“i’m gonna move this quick, okay?” you nod, moving your arms. he grabs the pillow, placing the heating pad in it’s place. “thank you.” you mumble, leaning on him, placing your head on his shoulder. “you’re welcome bug.” he kisses the top of your head before placing his there.

you sit there for a moment before you feel the guilt slowly creep up, the lump forming in the back of your throat. you turn your head into his shoulder as tears start to stream down your face.

“hey, hey, jagiya, do you want more medicine? what can i do?” he asks, placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles. you shake your head, before moving to put your hand in your hands.

“i’m sorry channie,” you cried. “i know you’re probably exhausted, and shouldn’t have to deal with this.” you feel him move in front of you before placing his hands on your face, lifting it. “i am your boyfriend, it is my job to take care of you when you need me. and right now you’re in pain because of something you can’t control.” he pauses, looking into your eyes, gently wiping the tears running down your cheeks.

“i will always take care of you, doesn’t matter, time, place, if i’m tired or not, i will always help you. understand?” you nod, moving into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, shoving your face into his neck.

he wraps his arms around your torso pulling you impossibly closer. “i love so much, jagiya. okay?” you nod your head quickly. “i love you too, more than you know.” you say into his neck, placing a kiss on his skin. 

you both stay like that for a moment before chan pulls away slightly. he wipes your tears once more before placing a kiss on your lips. “let’s get you to sleep, hm?” you agree, moving back into the mattress.

you watch him make his way to his side, getting comfortable under the duvet. once settled, he opens his arms for you to lay down. you giggle before quickly laying on him, making sure your heating pad was still in the correct position.

you place a kiss to his jaw before settling into his chest, duvet pulled to cover both of you. “thank you, i love you so much.” he places one last kiss to your head. “ you don’t have to thank me, i love you so much, good night my sleepy baby.” you smile, feeling at peace. “goodnight, channie.” you place a kiss over his heart before both of drift off once more.

do not repost

*feedback is always appreciated as are likes/reblogs!*

Guys I need help: I was just in the middle of reading an Innie fic where he and y/n meet on tinder.

They go to a party, her friends don't like him, they go back to her place and it gets spicy.

I accidentally backed out and my feed refreshed. I didn't get to like it or finish yet and I can't find it.

Unexpected Alpha | Spooktober 2023

@sweetracha asked: Chan has been hiding his werewolf side from reader for awhile now but being caught up with work he forgot to check the moon cycles. Cue reader finding out about his other side. Now Channie has always been the confident dom in the relationship so you thought no different when he turned wolf. You were so...so...so wrong

❣ Summary: When an overworked Chris forgets about his rut, you're quick to help him through it. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 4.89k ❣ Warnings: Hybrid! AU, Werewolf! Chris, he has a big dick, smut, comfort, slight angst, praise, begging, riding, creampies, Dom/Sub dynamics, slight Switch! Chris, implied multiple rounds ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Alpha [once], and Darling, Reader is referred to as Baby, Princess, Good Girl, and Love, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Spooktober 2023

Chris was always on top of everything, it was one of the things he prided himself on when it came to his life; he kept track of schedules and deadlines, he made sure everyone was clear on instructions and plans, and he managed healthy routines - outside of his sleep schedule. 

He made sure everything was perfect and went according to the plan carefully crafted in his head, and not just for his sake - but for yours.

It had been a while since the world was introduced to nearly half of its population being some sort of shifter - hell, the industry was wonderfully saturated with shifters and shifter supporters itself - but things were different when it came to you.

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.”

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