Tw: Self Harm

Tw: self harm

I feel like hurting myself

royal au! bang chan 👑

chan x reader drabble

prince chris having the sweetest smile. and the nicest dick. prince chris making you sweet little drawings. and leaving the deepest hickeys. chris giving you the warmest, most profoundly long cuddles. and the most satisfactory orgasm. chris hand feeding you pancakes out of love. and spilling his content inside your squishy mouth. chris kissing your hands. his hands leaving marks on your soft squishy bits. chris pointing out the many stars in the sky. ruts his hips until he sees stars in your eyes. chris with his hand on your waist and lower back at social gatherings. chris bending you over in your sundress, grabbing your waist for ultimate support in the back rooms. chris watching you walk down the aisle. breeding you when the time is right.

the end.

penguin waddle waddle

💅🏼 okay so my man king Chris

I want him to take a whole week off and spend it w his queen and her pups. just happy and calm and in love w his family. I wonder how the pups would react to the queen being pregnant again :o but im sure girlie needs a break sometimes from being bred so often !!

Also milk drunk king chris aahhh

- 🐧

awwww, a cute penguin waddling into my askbox💜

our King definitely deserves his week off to give his family the attention they deserve😤

i'm sure the pups would be shocked at first, but will be excited at the prospect of having more siblings to play and go on runs with💜

our Queen definitely needs a break, tho. imagine popping out two sets of werewolves at a time????? that must take a toll on the human body😭

as for milk drunk king chris...

i feel like he would get so completely lost in his wife when feeding... his brain would disconnect completely. no thoughts, head empty, only his precious forever mate and her swollen tits )):

he'd probably take his sweet, sweet time just nibbling and sucking and getting his fill. she'll probably card her fingers through his hair and keep him close and mumble loving words... and when there's no more milk, he'd be the one mumbling all those loving words to his wife ))):

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡

ﾟ。 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲 𓂃 ⊹ .˚

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roommate!frenemy!chan x afab!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: with a roommate like Chan, everything in life is a challenge — especially studying for your finals. he’s an annoyance, a cacophony, a statue of arrogance who likes to lounge at home, nonchalantly undressed — half dressed, in the best case scenario. but he’s not impossible to reconcile with — for this once, out of pity, he agrees to a truce with you, though he has but one wish in return: a kiss, on the lips.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: raw smut, enemies to lovers subtones, a lot of bickering, the plot is they’re down bad for each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k, I’m sorry idk how to shut up

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: reposting this because tumblr decided to remove it from existence without my notice lmao, I hope it won't keep you from enjoying reading this nasty piece of mine tho :3 your reblogs and comments would be super meaningful because writing this took me some while, I'll be looking forward for your thoughts on this, love you🩷

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚ ༯

You’re clutching your book’s pages for dear life while shooting daggers at Chan — your unevolved roommate, who seems to believe parading around half-naked in your shared flat is totally acceptable.

As he guzzles down an entire bottle of water shirtless, you can’t help but to wish he’d choke, silently plotting his demise as you stare his way without blinking. 

Because you’ve warned him countless times—more than you can tally—to avoid any distractions during your crucial finals week, and at this rate, you’re starting to wonder if his brain shares the same evolutionary timeline as his caveman-esque habits.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” you finally snap, eyeing him as he crushes the said water bottle and casually flings it away, almost like he’s gunning to annoy you.

“Doing what?” he plays innocent, wiping the sweat from his forehead — just back from the gym and apparently, on a self-display spree.

“I mentioned my finals starting this week, remember? Can't have any distractions.”

“Sure, but how’s my water drinking a distraction?”

“You’re being too loud, that’s how,” you scoff, pointing at the crushed bottle in the trashcan, “so keep it down, and go put some clothes on for fuck’s sake.” 

Oh, so that’s what it was about, he thinks to himself, you’re not just frustrated because of the upcoming exams — you’re also . . . sexually frustrated. 

Poor thing, he ponders, you must be so desperate, maybe he should help you out. 

“Sorry Y/n, I’m afraid I can’t,” so he responds, placing his hands on both sides of his waist confidently — time to show them abs off, “you’re asking for too much, pick one.” 

“What?”

“Pick one,” he repeats, closing in on your seat, clearly aiming to up the ante of your flustered state — what can he say, he just loves how the color red looks on you.

“Because either I’m gonna keep my volume down, or throw on a shirt, not both,” he adds with a smug grin on his face, “it’s your call, make it wisely." 

Make it wisely?

What?

Is he implying something?

Wait, does he think it's about him strutting around shirtless by any chance? 

Is he that naive — enough to believe that his abs have any impact on you?

Hilarious, for real, you almost feel sorry for him.

“You can’t ask me to pick one, it's not fair.”

“And why is that?”

“Because this is my house as much as it’s yours, and I have every right to demand a distraction-free zone for studying, that’s why.” 

Fair point, but he’s got an ace up his sleeve.

“True, but it doesn’t mean you get to dictate my wardrobe.”

Oh my god, does he really wanna go there? 

“Your wardrobe?” you huff, eyeing him up and down with disdain, making a mental note to contemplate his remarkably defined abs later, “It’s common sense to not walk around naked in front of other people, I’m not dictating shit!” 

“I’m not naked, I’m wearing shorts,” he objects, emphasizing on the last word as he points down to his legs — ugh, why are his thighs so ripped, “but fine, I’ll put on a shirt if it bothers you so much.”

Oh?

Did Chan just . . . admit defeat?

Wow, maybe you were wrong all along — maybe he wasn’t so unevolved.  

“It does,” you reply, surprised in a way that’s impossible to miss, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” he smirks, a mischievous glint in his eye — this can't be good, “but here’s the catch,” he adds, straightening up, hinting at something intriguing, “You’ll give me a kiss in return, just one.”

Pardon?

Did you hear that correctly?

Or is this some kind of an auditory illusion?

“I’m sorry, what?” you ask incredulously, rising to meet him face to face, “Could you say that again? I think I misunderstood.”

“I’m serious, Y/n,” he replies, stepping closer, narrowing the space between you, “You want your distraction-free zone? Here’s your shot.”

Is he actually serious?

What’s his issue?

Why on earth would he want a kiss? Aren’t you two at odds most of the time?

Is this one of his bizarre kinks or something? 

Seriously, what’s his endgame here?

“You must be out of your mind if you think I’d even consider doing that.” you snarl with a visible disgust on your face, squinting your eyes — almost as if you were daring him to make you. 

And it works, he accepts your challenge, doubles it, then returns it back to you. 

“Fine by me,” he shrugs off, completely unbothered, “I don’t want a shirt weighing on me anyways, It’s already hot in here.”

“We’re literally in January, Chan, it’s freezing outside.” 

Keyword: Outside. 

Does he look homeless to you?

“Good thing that I plan to stay in today then,” he quips, an annoying grin playing on his face, “and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that—”

“Okay, I get it!” you interject, cutting through his list, your patience wearing thin, “I’ll do it,” you mutter, voice barely audible from your embarrassment, “I’ll kiss you, just let me study in peace, please.” 

Please, huh? 

That’s new, he likes it — he likes it a lot.  

“Deal, I’ll be no different than a ghost.” he claims, sounding not even close to reassuring. 

But well, the damage is done, and although you hate to submit, you’ve got no choice but to be obedient to his words — for your exams, no other reason. 

You take a deep breath and slowly raise on your toes, here I go, you think to yourself as you gulp down your pride, and lean in to give him a peck . . . on the cheeks.  

And he can’t even begin to tell you just how disappointing that feels. 

“What was that?” he asks, scowling,

“A kiss,” you retort, confused, “like you asked?” 

Like he asked?

Are you joking?

If you really think that’s what he meant when he said he wanted a kiss, then he doesn’t know whether to pity you or to be pissed at you, or both, in that matter. 

“Do I look nine years old to you, Y/n?” he grumbles irritably,

“Intellectually? ... yeah.” you shoot back, struggling to stifle a laugh, your lip caught between your teeth.

Funny, hah, you think he’s joking around with you? 

Do you really think he’s gonna let you get away so easily, is that why you're all sassy, throwing clever jibes about his smarts?

Maybe I wasn’t clear enough with her, he assumes, as he strides towards you with sure steps, and doesn’t stop until he’s got you pinned between himself and the counter. 

He's just curious to see how your snark holds up when you're cornered and have no place to escape, to test if your confidence is just a front or not. 

But oh boy, won’t you look at that — you're quieter than a library mouse now. 

Eyes down, not a peep — such a surprising turn of events.

“Cat got your tongue?” he jabs, his warm breath tickling your flushed cheeks, “you were in the middle of roasting my intelligence, don’t stop now, go on.” 

“I don’t want to,” you retaliate, still avoiding his gaze, “I already gave you what you wanted, your stupid kiss, now let me go.” 

His stupid kiss? 

You call that a kiss? 

Gosh, you’re hilarious. 

“Cut the crap Y/n,” he grumbles, leaning on the counter, looming over you “you know damn well what I meant by a kiss, so stop fucking around—”

Okay, you will, you’ve had enough of sparring with him anyway.

Thus, before he can finish, you lean forward, seizing his lips in a rough kiss — grabbing his cheeks, drawing him nearer, making sure your noses don't collide as you tilt his head.

But surprise, surprise: Chan responds to your kiss right away, like he's been waiting forever. In a flash, his arms circle around you, hoisting you onto the counter and slotting himself between your legs.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, or why he’s doing it — but he can’t stop himself, he just really wants to kiss you, he wants to kiss you so bad. 

It's like a switch flipped inside him the moment your lips met — his brain goes on vacation, all he hears is white noise.

And maybe that’s how it should’ve been all along — calm and quiet, no bickering, peaceful. 

He feels breathless as you deepen the kiss, your hands coming to wrap around his neck, nails scratching his nape, making him moan against your mouth — giving you the perfect chance to sneak your tongue in.

It’s quite surprising to you, how eagerly he welcomes you in — no resistance, he just surrenders, and lets you have your way with him. 

And every time your tongue collides on his, it poisons him a little more — making him drunk in your touch, yearning for so much more in desperation, consuming all his patience and leaving nothing behind for him to hold on.

His hands roam around your body hungrily — sliding down from your hair to your neck, wrapping around your throat briefly, gaining a sweet whimper from your lips before moving onto their next stop — your chest.

As he cups your boobs over your shirt, you tilt your head back, giving him space to suck on your skin to mark you as his for good.

And of course, he doesn’t bail on such a rare opportunity — he leans in, and ignites each spot he marks with fiery passion, leaving behind purple bruises of lust.

But that’s not where his exploration ends, he’s got so much of you to discover — so much of you to make his own. Though before he continues with his quest to conquer you, he stops, wanting to ask you a question which he already holds the answer to,

“Gosh Y/n, you drive me fucking insane, you know that?”

You smirk, sure you do, he’s literally bulging in between your legs. 

So “Mhm,” you hum, stealing a peck from his lips — yes, you can’t get enough of him, “I do, because you’re terrible at hiding it.” you say, reaching for the said bulge of his pants. 

Once your fingertips brushes past his hardened shaft over his clothes, he groans, taking it as his sign to get rid of his clothes completely. 

What a good boy, am I right?

He gets you right away, so smart and so muscular — literally your dream guy, minus his unbearable personality, but that’s a topic for sometime else. 

“Oh, that?” he chuckles as he pushes his shorts all the way down to his knees — along with his underwear, god you love him, “I wasn’t trying to hide it, babe.” 

Babe?

Butterflies, stupid butterflies in your stomach. 

“G-good,” you stutter, noticeably flustered as you lean on your back, eyes locked on his veiny hands as he slowly strokes his length, “b-because I want it, deep inside me.”  

Such a bold statement coming from a girl who trips over words, he thinks to himself, in the whirlwind of watching you struggle to kick your pajamas away — you just have to act cute all the time, don’t you? 

Because you know that’s his type. 

“Yeah? Would this be deep enough for you then?” he asks, laying his cock on your stomach, shamelessly teasing you, “I’ll be just above your belly button, are you sure you can take it?”

Oh.

You see.

 He wants war. 

So be it then, you ponder, tugging your panties aside, “less talk, more work, big boy,” you respond, guiding his tip to your entrance, “don’t waste my time talking nonsense, I’ve got exams to study for, remember?” 

Yes, he does. 

You and your stupid exams that you never shut up about — he gets it, he’s never gonna be anywhere near as important. 

You’re not exactly giving him any chances to forget that, nerd. 

Which is infuriating, but it’s fine, he’s way too horny and too damn into you to care. 

That’s why ignoring your words, he slips his cock through your folds, slowly burying himself within your warmth. 

A sigh of relief leaves both of your lips as he fills you in beyond your dreams, stretching your walls just right, gaining a hearty whine from you.

To be completely honest, you’re a little tighter than he expected —yes, he fantasized about you, so many times— and definitely a lot wetter, wrapping around him just perfectly.

He can feel you pulsating, throbbing as you try to adjust to his size, which is adorable and it drives him crazy, although he’s giving his best to contain himself. 

Ugh, just why are you so fucking cute? 

You know that turns him on. 

How is he supposed to keep himself from railing you now, when he’s already all the way inside you? 

He lifts your hips, and presses on your tummy — yep, he’s definitely in your womb, bulging you out so good. 

“You feel this babe?” he then asks, reaching to hold your hand, “I’m so deep inside you, so. fucking. deep.” he says proudly, pressing your palm right over your belly button, where the tip of his dick rests. 

“I do,” you moan in return, eyes rolling to the back of your head — gosh, you look so pretty doing that, “and I wanna feel you more,” you add, almost begging, “please, just fuck me already.” 

. . . 

Please . . . 

Just fuck me already . . . 

It echoes in his head. 

He can’t believe it’s finally happening, he can’t believe you’re asking him to—

“Chan! Please. Move. Do something. I need you!”

—fuck you, god, can you let him have his moment? 

It’s not like he gets to hear you beg for his cock every day, geez, he was just touched, okay? 

He’s totally gonna take care of you, just give him a second to process … uhm, everything, yeah? 

Wanting to engrave this moment in his brain, he looks down at where your hips meet, and that’s when he notices your cute panties with hello kitty patterns on it — adorable, he thinks, unable to stop a goofy smile from spreading his whole face, are you trying to make him fall in love with you by any chance?

Because if so, you’re about to succeed. 

Curious about whether or not you’re wearing a matching bra, he tugs on your shirt and lifts it up to your chin — and voila, you indeed are, plus the fabric is so thin that it’s almost see through, which is not what he anticipated, though it turns him on. 

Alright, enough processing, he’s ready to roll.

Seizing your hips, Chan leads you to the edge of the counter. His hands seamlessly sweep under your legs, elevating them to rest upon his shoulders.

Then, he reaches for your thighs — his favorite part of your body. 

Marveling at their softness and beauty, he can’t keep himself from lightly tapping them, which causes you to wince. Chuckling, “Sorry princess,” he mutters, caressing where he just hit, “didn't mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, placing your hands on his, “I like it, so I don’t mind.” 

God. 

Please just marry him at this point. 

“You do?” he inquires, now giving a playful smack to your inner thighs, presuming you might be more sensitive there — and he’s right, you are. 

“Yeah,” you hiss, biting your lips, “I do, so much.” 

Well, there goes his sanity then, I guess. 

“You make it impossible for me to stay soft with you,” he states, pulling himself all the way out before slamming back in, “you realize that, right angel?” 

Angel . . . angel, huh?

He does this on purpose at this point, you think to yourself, stupid Chan. 

And stupid nicknames, gosh.

With the power of his thrust, you bounce on the cold marble, back arching in pleasure as you hold onto the sides for support.

Ugh, you love how it feels so much.

“I don’t want you soft,” you respond, breathlessly moaning, “be rough with me, fuck me hard.” 

Oh.

Kinky.

He digs that. 

Say no more.

“As you wish, gorgeous.” he whispers against your skin as he peppers your calves with open mouthed kisses, giving your skin an a class princess treatment before starting his ruthless pace. 

Thanks to his huge biceps, he easily hugs your legs and presses them upon his chest, lifting your hips to meet with his in the air as if your weight feels like a feather to him. 

His other hand rakes over your chest and sneakily tugs down your bra, wanting to provide his pervy eyes a visual feast with your astonishingly beautiful tits. 

As he palms them — roughly, just like you asked, a weak cry leaves your lips, you can’t believe that you’re admitting this but Chan fucks so good. 

Your legs are trembling, your pussy is throbbing, you’re gushing sweat and yet you’re on the clouds — face beaming with pure ecstasy under his gaze, glowy eyes smiling at him cutely. 

He doesn’t know how, but you manage to make both his heart and his cock weak for you — causing him to twitch within your warmth, heart palpitating, a strong thump against his chest. 

“You’re so pretty,” he confesses drunkenly in the magic of the moment, feet swept off the floor with how good you make him feel. There’s no point in denying anymore, he tells himself, he’s so head over heels for you. 

“Then kiss me,” you reply, nibbling on your lower lip.

And oh, how the tables have turned. 

From refusing to kiss him, to asking for him to kiss you — even the history is shocked, raising its eyebrow at this epic flip-flop.  

Chan chuckles at the irony of your words as he frees your legs and lets you wrap them around his waist. Leaning in, he hovers over you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, 

“I thought you didn’t want that.” he says, sarcastic, his lips on the cusp of intertwining with yours. 

“I was lying,” you retort, smug, “you’re a moron if you still don’t realize that.” 

Gosh, you’re such a smartass, how is he attracted to you?

Honestly it doesn’t matter, because as he inches in, closing the gap between your faces, he notices one thing — no one makes him feel this way, not a soul, besides yours.

So he kisses you with passion, with desire — reaching out for your hands to hold them in his, fingers lacing on the cold surface above your head, perfection.

 And there — butterflies.

Stupid butterflies again.

This time in both of your stomachs, winging you closer to your highs. 

With every passing second, they double in numbers — introducing your bodies to a new level of euphoria, sending cold chills down your spines, it’s poetic. 

A little overwhelming too, for sure, but poetic. 

Your whole body shakes, it’s definitely too much for you to take, tears stain your cheeks — that’s it, you need your release. 

“Chan—” so you call his name, in a short breath that he steals from your lips, “I think I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he whispers, not needing to hear the rest of your sentence — he already knows, “cum for me babe, do it for me.” 

And it hits you then, you’re gonna cum for him — for Chan, yet you’re not even disgusted one bit. 

Instead you’re pleased, you’re happy — because in a weird way, you feel safe, yes you also can’t believe it, but Chan makes you feel safe. 

You’re crushed under his buff body, the rough surface he chose to lay you on causing you a sore back, you’re panting for air and literally dripping sweat down from your ass but you don’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest — you’re holding his hands, you’re kissing his lips, you’re looking at his eyes and simply, you’re alright. 

You’re no more swirling in finals-induced panic — your headache vanished, and stress took a hike.

Overflowing with gratitude, you flash him a smile, before leaning in for another one of those endearingly messy kisses as you unleash your orgasm all over your counter and uhm, his cock. 

You’re so sloppy that he can’t stop himself from cackling as he kisses you back, cute, he thinks, you’re so cute from head to toe, he wants to ruin you. 

And your hello kitty set, he wants to ruin that too. 

God, he just hopes that this isn’t the only pair you own, but if it is, he’s willing to step up and buy you more — money’s no object, even if it costs him a fortune.

Just let him fuck you in them once in a while, that’s all he’ll ever ask, then you can consider your debt paid. 

As Chan gets lost in his own Hello Kitty fantasy, he forgets about his in real life status momentarily — dick buried balls deep inside of you, itching to cum and definitely overstimulated from how long he’s been holding back. 

Luckily, he manages to pull out before accidentally breeding you — not that he thinks it’s a bad idea, in fact it’s a great one. 

Cursing out a husky “fuck”, he spills his load all over your tummy, proudly watching as he paints your glowy skin pearl white — the color he hopes to see more on you starting from today, if you know what I mean. 

And as Chan jerks the rest of his cum out on your stomach, stroking his sensitive, veiny head, you stare at him in adoration, wondering if he recently got hotter or if he was always this way, but you were just too blind to notice. 

The answer is neither — because yes, he was always hot, but you weren’t blind, you were just stubborn. 

Something which you no longer plan to be. 

Thus, reaching your hand down, you pick some of his cum and bring it to your mouth. Then, you swirl your tongue around your cum-coated fingers before sucking them off, making him hiss at the sight as he spurts the remaining part of his arousal onto your thighs.   

“This was perfect,” you comment, swallowing everything that you just licked off, “I’m surprised, in a good way, for once.”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this but I agree with you,” he responds, as he helps you off the counter, “this was amazing, and you look great in this set, you should definitely wear it more.” 

“In this set?” you check yourself in disbelief, “Didn’t know you were a hello kitty fan, Bang.” 

“I am as long as you’re wearing it on your ass, L/n,” he quips, palming your right cheek playfully, “and on your tits, god, I love your tits.” 

“Yeah?” you chortle, circling your arms around his neck, “Wanna hold them as I show you my collection?”

“Collection?”

“My hello kitty underwear collection, thought you might wanna see?”

Oh My God, he thinks to himself, please let her be serious, pleasepleasepleaseplease.

“Please tell me you’re not messing with me right now, Y/n,” he asserts, suddenly serious, “cuz’ if you are, then it’s so not funny—”

“I’m not—” you cut his words, shushing him with your index on his plump lips, “but there’s a catch.”

“A catch?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I don’t want you strolling half naked in the house anymore, without my permission.” 

Wait, that’s the catch?

But he thought you liked him half naked, I mean, you were literally frustrated about him being shirtless like minutes ago — in fact, you just fucked for that exact reason, no?

He’s so confused. 

“But I thought you secretly liked it?” he asks, and you can’t ignore the worry in his tone, “I mean, we just had sex because of my naked abs. . . is that not good?” 

“It is, and I love your abs,” you confirm, gently caressing his firm packs, “but distraction is distraction, you make it impossible for me to focus around you.” 

Oh.

Well.

If that’s the case . . . he’s fluttered. 

“Plus, as I said, it’s common sense,” you add, “we’re not in the stone age, and you’re not a caveman—” 

Alright.

He heard you the first time.

You don’t have to try and prove your point.

And butcher his biggest personality trait while doing that. 

“Okay, I understand—” he interrupts you, wanting to save himself from more embarrassment, “and I’m in, as long as you promise that this isn’t the last time we see each other naked.” 

The last time you see each other naked?

Pffft, is that what he’s nervous about?

He’s adorable, but please, this is barely even a warm up for you.  “Oh sure,” so you say, “I promise . . this is only our beginning.”

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐳 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 🩷

im gonna cry i suddenly have sm anxiety