Bookverse - BTS HP Fic's

Bookverse - BTS × HP Fic's

Sobre as histórias: Todas as histórias acontecem no Universo Harry Potter | As histórias de todos os membros se conectam, mas é possível ler os membros isolados | apesar de ser no universo de HP, o próprio menino de ouro nem é tão relevante assim | Personagens que estão mortos na saga original podem aparecer (só vamos seguindo.)

📜 Escola de magia e bruxaria de Hogwarts

Prezado/a Sr/a

Temos o prazer de convidar v.Sa à escola de magia e bruxaria de Hogwarts, para acompanhar alguns de nossos alunos em suas aventuras pelo castelo.

Estamos anexando a lista dos jovens que irão conviver, e suas respectivas casas.

Atenciosamente,

Minerva McGonagall, diretora.

🦁 Kim Seokjin • 🐍Min yoongi • 🦨Jung Hoseok • 🐦‍⬛Kim Namjoon

🐍Park Jimin • 🐦‍⬛Kim Taehyung • 🦁Jeon Junghook

0.1 Jeon Jungkook Grifinório x Leitora Sonserina

Sinopse: Em teoria, um grifinório e uma sonserina não poderiam acontecer, mas desde o primeiro dia em que chegaram no castelo, Jean não tira seus olhos de uma sonserina. Mas o moreno logo descobrirá que cobras são mestres em se esgueirar para longe dos holofotes.

🔮 Amortentia | J.JK¹ 🔮 Amortentia | J.JK²

🔮 Amortentia | J.JK³

0.2 NamjoonCorvinal! × Leitora Lufana

Sinopse: Desde o primeiro dia em que pisou no castelo de Hogwarts, Kim Namjoon ficou conhecido por sua inteligência, sagacidade e paixão por devorar livros e mais livros, mas Namjoon não tinha nenhuma habilidade com garotas. Especialmente quando essa garota, é uma lufana leal à suas amigas.

🔮 Poção do Ódio | K.NJ¹ 🔮Poção do Ódio | K.NJ²

🔮 Poção do Ódio | K.NJ³

0.3 Coming Soon

0.4 Coming Soon

0.5 Coming Soon

0.6 Coming Soon

0.7 Coming Soon

Amortentia | J.JK¹

Jeon Jungkook grifinório! x leitora sonserina.

Palavras: 1.337

Sinopse: Em teoria, um grifinório e uma sonserina não poderiam acontecer, mas desde o primeiro dia em que chegaram no castelo, Jean não tira seus olhos de uma sonserina. Mas o moreno logo descobrirá que cobras são mestres em se esgueirar para longe dos holofotes.

Avisos: Um grande slow burn (é preciso pro começo de tudo...), Jk é uma criança atentada, Se tem pouco da leitora, mas nos próximos a gatona aparece com tudo.

J.JK¹ | J.JK² | J.JK³

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮

A primeira vez que se viram, foi quando saíram do expresso Hogwarts, direto para seu primeiro ano mágico na escola de magias.

Conforme conheciam o castelo, Jeon Jungkook chamou a atenção da garota, assim como a mesma se destacou na multidão, mas entre o turbilhão de emoções de estar na escola mágica pela primeira vez, a vergonha e o medo estavam no top 5 (dos dois). Afinal, assim como poderiam acabar na mesma casa, poderiam muito bem acabar em casas "rivais" - Minerva tinha dito que não gostavam desse termo, mas todos sabiam muito bem como as coisas eram nos corredores e casas comunais.

Ele foi primeiro, o chapéu seletor criou vida, e falou sem parar : "Não há nada escondido em sua cabeça que o Chapéu Seletor não consiga ver, por isso é só me porem na cabeça que vou dizer em que casa de Hogwarts deverão ficar." Ele parecia apavorado, grandes olhos brilhando sob a luz das velas do lugar. Jeon tentava olhar o chapéu, mas não conseguia, adorável, de fato. "Ah, um rapaz curioso, vejo... Poderia ser um lufano, mas paciência não é seu forte... Possui a mente de um Corvinal, mas é de fato..." e então um silêncio de segundos que pareceram um século, com o rapaz dançando na cadeira, e todos olhando em expectativa "Grifinória!".

Toda a mesa vermelha vibrou de emoção, e você não tem certeza ao certo, mas teve certeza que antes de se sentar com sua nova família, ele tinha te olhado em pura expectativa.

Cinco alunos depois, e então era ela quem deveria se sentar na grande cadeira, com o estranho chapéu falante. O discurso inicial foi o mesmo para todos os alunos, até que não era mais. "Ah, seu coração é puro, não se esqueça, e fará grandes amigos, amigos iguais a si..." Mal houve tempo de segurar a respiração em expectativa, quando a voz ecoou, e a realidade congelou "Sonserina!"

Não poderia dizer que estava decepcionada, já que a história da casa era realmente fascinante, mas ela também não poderia negar um nervosismo maior, já que diferente de grande parte dos alunos sonserinos, Sn não era uma bruxa de 'sangue azul' (ou verde), uma vez que não tinha pais bruxos, era "meio sangue".

...

Os primeiros anos, foram calmos. A sonserina aceitou muito bem Sn, e para sua sorte, os amigos amis próximos que fez eram tão focados nos estudos quando ela, o que deixava suas visitas a grande biblioteca bem mais divertidas e agradáveis.

Do outro lado do castelo, Jeon Jungkook era recebido na Grifinória também de braços abertos. No seu primeiro ano, ele se manteve um rapaz tímido, que mal levantava a mão durante as aulas, a menos que extremamente necessário, e preferia passar grande parte do seu dia do lado de fora do prédio.

Mas foi no segundo ano, quando voltaram das férias de fim de ano com as famílias, que todos perceberam uma mudança no rapaz. Agora ele estava mais extrovertido, sociável. Jeon se alinhou a um grupo de amigos, que quando juntos eram inseparáveis e imparáveis, alguns grifinórios, mas nem todos.

Obviamente que o grupo ficou popular rapidamente, sempre chamando atenção, seja por sua beleza, inteligência e principalmente por seu barulho.

As matérias também mudaram um pouco, algumas interessantes, enquanto Sn se apaixonou perdidamente por algumas, como poções e feitiços, sofria com herbologia e astronomia, enquanto Jungkook não tinha preferências, mas se saía bem sem muitos esforço, o que já era uma grande vitória.

Mas se tinha uma coisa que não saia de sua cabeça, era como chamar atenção da garota bonita que viu no seu primeiro dia. Ele sempre a Bia pelos corredores do castelo, e felizmente tinha todas as aulas com ela, mas tinham algum empecilhos no seu caminho: A) Jeon acreditava firmemente que não fazia o tipo dela, B) Ela não parecia ter atenção para outra coisa se não aulas e a pior: C) ela era uma sonserina, e ele um Grifinório.

"Mas isso é ridículo, pelo amor de Merlim!" O Corvinal Namjoon reclamou com o mais novo, quando ele falava pela milionésima vez sobre a garota. Hoseok e Jimin riram do cutucão na cabeça que levou. "Primeiro que ninguém mais vê rivalidade nenhuma entre as casas, segundo que ela só é mais introvertida, você era assim também, lembra?"

"É, você só precisa de um bom plano pra chamar a atenção dela, e tals" seu amigo Taehyung comentou distraído com alguma coisa, e Yoongi adiciona um comentário engraçadinho de mais para Jeon: "E que seja rápido, ou Jimin vai se cansar de esperar por você, vai passar na sua frente."

Naquela noite, antes de dormir, Jungkook olhava para o céu noturno em sua janela, imaginando o que poderia fazer para finalmente fazer com que a garota o percebesse...

Quando as aulas voltaram, tudo parecia normal para Sn, mas aos poucos, ela percebeu que na verdade não estava nada normal. Conforme as matérias eram dadas, Jeon Jungkook se tornou mais... participativo.

O moreno começou a levantar sua mão, fazer comentários e tentar passar a sua frente, mesmo quando o professor te dava a vez de falar.

Aquilo pode ter a incomodado, mas Sn tentou não transparecer, pois não quis parecer mesquinha com tal assunto, então conforme Jeon agia, ela apenas o encarava, perplexa e logo voltava sua atenção ao que realmente importava.

Sem perceber, Sn estava em algum tipo de competição academica com Jungkook, e se tornaram a maior fonte de pontos de ambas as casas, e de entretenimento para a toda a escola. A rivalidade ficou tão vivida, que reascendeu a chama da confusão Grifinória x Sonserina, e até os fantasmas comentavam sobre.

Quando no terceiro ano, o rapaz começou a ficar mais ousado, usando provocações muito mais diretas.

"Boa sorte na aula de poções hoje, cobrinha" o moreno disse, quando passava pelo corredor para a sala de aula, bagunçando os cabelos da garota, o que fez algumas meninas atrás dela soltarem uma risadinha zombateira. Ela queria muito bater nele.

Mas ela nunca reagia. E isso sempre parecia jogar mais gasolina ao fogo. Não importava o que ele dizia, sua expressão era sempre a mesma: uma revirada de olhos, e apenas. Uma vez que a garota não sabia qual a intenção do rapaz de ter começado a agir assim do nada, ela preferia focar no mais importante, que eram seus estudos.

"É uma tática idiota..." Namjoon começou a comentar uma vez, eles estavam reunidos no pátio no fim de semana, e em uma rara ocasião, o mais novo estava com um livro estudando, "mas pelo menos te fez abrir um livro"

"Pontos para Sn, então!" Jin levantou sua xícara de café sorrindo para o mais novo que apenas rolou os olhos.

Mas Jungkook estava cada vez mais frustrado. Não importava o que ele fazia, quantas vezes a interrompia, quantas vezes nos corredores esbarrava na sonserina "sem querer", ou até por querer... Nada parecia surtir efeito. A única reação que conseguia era uma revirada de olhos, e só. SÓ!

Foi então que em mais uma noite, olhando para o mesmo céu escuro, que mais uma ideia surgiu, e dessa vez, ele tinha certeza que não tinha como ela o ignorar.

...

Quando Snape a chamou então em sua sala, o que era algo estranho, já que ela não era o tipo de aluna que precisava ser chamada em sua sala. Mas já que foi, não quis o fazer esperar.

Assim que chegou na sala, fitou a porta por longos segundos, com medo do que lhe esperava lá dentro. Mas sem enrolar muito, para não irritar o professor que já tinha pouca paciência, bateu, e esperou sua confirmação.

Enquanto caminhava pelos corredores silenciosos daquele lado do castelo, Sn não pôde deixar de imaginar milhares de cenários diferentes, mas em nenhum deles, a preparou para a cena que encontrou.

No momento em que o Professor Snape abriu a porta, ela pode ver além de sua carranca, a figura de Jeon Jungkook sentado em uma cadeira, bebendo chá calmamente. Ah, não, não, não, não ....

"Senhorita S/s, como minha melhor aluna, quero que seja tutora desse... rapaz."

forget him

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “What if… what if I helped you out a little?” His words hang in the air, and your room feels thick with tension. You’re acutely aware of the toy still pressed between your thighs. “Look,” Hyuck says, voice softer, “I hate seeing you cry- but seeing you cry about something good might make us both feel better.”

tw/cw. recent breakup, fingering, Hyuck walks in while y/n is masturbating, masturbation, assisted masturbation, toy/dildo use, overstimulation, dacryphilia, reader has multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, big dick Hyuck, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, talking about y/n's ex while they fuck, marking/claim kink, full/breeding kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous, babe, good girl.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 7.1k

🍭 aus. friends to lovers, roommates au, recent breakup, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. When I tell you I need to be demolished by this Hyuck-

Hyuck absolutely hates seeing you like this. 

He’d thought it had been hard seeing you in love with his best friend Mark Lee, but seeing you in the throws of depression after your recent breakup takes the cake for Hyuck when it comes to him having a straight up horrible time.

Obviously, you have it worse, and he’s not trying to contest that fact- he just hadn’t realized that when the thing he’d been hoping for actually came to pass- it would feel this bad. 

In the dark reaches of his mind, he wonders if he’d had something to do with the separation, although, in truth, he knows that’s ridiculous. He’d been as supportive as a friend and roommate could be about you and Mark. He’d forced smiles and words of encouragement when you’d gushed through the talking phase. He’d found ways to ditch the apartment when you and Mark started to get physical, doing his best to give you privacy while getting high as a kite at Lee Jeno’s place to distract himself from the fact that you were getting railed by someone other than him. And now, he supposes, he’s doing his due diligence in making you feel better when you’re at your worst.

Hyuck’s doing the best he can to make things easy for you. He’s set up movie days, and he’s made you ramen. He’s allowed you to shuffle closer to him on the couch, even resting your head on his shoulder any time you start to tear up. He’s paused films to listen to you explain things like “When Mark and I watched this, he would always get so excited when Totoro would show up” or “Mark hated No Face.” 

He wonders if doing a Ghibli marathon is the best idea, given how much you associate it with Mark, but when he’d asked you about it and you insisted you would feel better watching the films, he’d left it at that.

You’re your own person, and Hyuck’s always trusted you to make the best decisions for yourself… even when he doesn’t agree with them.

Cuddled next to you on your living room couch, Hyuck does his best just to be there for you. He ignores the boys’ group chat messages, where other friends are taking care of Mark. As far as Hyuck’s concerned, he’s team you, all the way, and he always has been.

He notices the way you start to shift next to him, pulling away from his shoulder to stretch your arms over your head.

“You good?” Hyuck asks, looking away from the movie to give you his complete and undivided attention.

“Yeah,” you sigh, frowning slightly. “Just tired.”

“Do you want to go to bed?” He studies your face, noticing all the signs of exhaustion- although, to be fair, you’ve been a sleepy wreck of a thing since your breakup two weeks ago.

“I probably should,” you concede, taking another deep breath. “Thanks for making me dinner and watching movies with me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hyuck says, flashing you a small smile as he straightens in his seat, reaching for the remote to stop the movie.

“You’ve been so nice since… since the whole Mark thing.” He can see you swallowing back tears, and you reach up to wipe your eye with the sleeve of your hoodie. 

“That’s what friends are for,” Hyuck assures you, although, his attention toward you has always far surpassed that of a friend. It’s a shame you’ve never realized that fact.

“Just… thanks,” you say again, holding open your arms for a hug that Hyuck is more than happy to give you. 

He adjusts on the couch, leaning forward to scoop you into his arms. Your cheek presses to his shoulder and he breathes in the smell of your fruity body wash. He tries his best not to hug you too hard- because if he did, you might actually realize that every time you hug him, he has no true intention of ever letting you go. 

“Sleep well, okay, gorgeous?” he prompts, stroking your hair and using the petname he’d given you far before you’d ever met Mark. “You really need your rest.”

“I’ll do my best,” you assure him, giving one last gentle squeeze before you pull away.

Hyuck watches you stand up, your hoodie skimming your mid thigh. He knows you’re wearing sleeping shorts under the oversized fabric, but he can’t help but swallow thickly, imagining what it would be like if you were just in panties.

He really has to get his mind out of the gutter, and Hyuck knows that- he’s been trying to, in all honesty he has- but it’s been four years of knowing you, one of living together, and he still can’t manage to keep his thoughts PG. 

With one last small smile, you turn and begin to shuffle to your room.

He misses your lively movements. The first night you’d moved in together, you’d had a small dance party together, and Hyuck’s always been adamant that no one’s hips move like yours do. 

He misses your joy. The way you sparkle when you’re happy. You used to smile like a kid in a candy shop anytime you watched your favourite movies or ate the ramen he’d made for you, but these days, the most you can muster is a small upquirk of the sides of your lips.

Hyuck wants to make you smile again. He’s just not sure how to do it. 

He knows you need time. Time heals all wounds, or so they say. He just wishes he could fast track your recovery.

Your bedroom door shuts and the spell of watching you is broken. Hyuck takes a deep breath, looking around the messy living room. There are blankets and pillows strewn all over, take out boxes from your day inside, tissues from when you’d cried. 

He’s not generally known to be the cleanest man around town, but Hyuck feels that in times like these, the least he can do is keep things tidy. He’s sure you’ll feel better to come out of your room every morning to a nice apartment, so he begins his work of collecting water cups and take away boxes. 

You’ve definitely lost your spark, and Hyuck thinks maybe he has too. He’s used to playing music loudly, using it as energy at all hours of the day, but tonight, while he cleans, he keeps things quiet. His head is full, and his ears are on edge, paying attention to the sounds coming from your room.

In those first days after the breakup, he’d heard you crying a lot, and he’s sure that barging into your room to give you a hug had cheered you up. He’s hoping it won’t be necessary today. 

As much as he loves hugging you, seeing you cry always makes him feel like someone is trying to tear open his chest and clench his heart. It’s an ache he doesn’t enjoy.

When you’d moved in together, he’d decided that as a girl - with monthly girl issues - you should have the bigger room with the connected bathroom, and he listens to the sound of you brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed. 

You begin to hum something, and Hyuck realizes it’s the first time he’s heard you sing since your breakup. 

Maybe tonight will be a good night.

Hyuck has moved all the clutter to the kitchen, and he begins to put stuff in the garbage and dishwasher while he listens to you hum. He thinks about the day you met, at uni orientation. He’d never become friends with someone so fast in his life, and when you’d discovered you had three of five classes together- well, he’s never looked back, not for one second.

He wonders how things would be different if he’d ever manned up and told you how he felt- how he feels- how his affection for you has only been growing and growing- 

Hyuck finds himself heading to the fridge and taking out a beer. He hasn’t been drinking much since you and Mark broke up, hasn’t needed the mind-numbing effects of alcohol, so when he takes a large swig, he finds that it immediately takes the edge off. 

He can’t be thinking about wifing you up right now- no matter how much he might wish to.

Although… as he leans against the sink and downs the can, grabbing another, he begins to wonder if offering himself up to you as a distraction really would be the worst thing in the world. 

Sure, it wouldn’t be the way he’d want to start things with you- but maybe he could make you fall in love with him and forget all about Mark Lee. However, in all honesty, he’d probably be risking your friendship. 

He’s played this mind game with himself too many times before, and Hyuck always finds himself at a stalemate. Frustration bubbles up inside and he looks out at the living room, determined to set himself back on the task of cleaning.

Hyuck throws the pillows onto the couch, and he even begins to fold up a blanket, and that’s when he hears a familiar sound.

You’ve never been the type to seek much affection, especially when you’re in your room, so whenever he’s caught you crying, it’s always started with a whimper.

What Hyuck’s just heard was definitely a whimper, and his whole body surges with white-hot, electric energy, his eyes darting to your door. His breath catches, and he tosses the blanket down to the ground, frozen as he waits for another sound of distress. 

A small gasp can be heard under the crack of your door, and Hyuck’s body bolts into action. He’s moving so fast he stumbles a little over his own feet just as he reaches your room, and he wonders if drinking two beers was a good idea. His hand lands on your door, and he knocks aggressively.

“You okay in there, gorgeous?” he calls.

“I’m fine!” you respond, but there’s definitely an edge to your voice. 

He can tell something is wrong- can tell you’re lying to him, and in a split second, Hyuck is making a decision. 

“I’m coming in.”

You let out a small squeak of surprise, tearing your hand away from the toy still lodged inside of you so you can pull the blankets up around your shoulders, jaw dropping as your roommate barges into your room.

“Hyuck!”

He stands in the doorway, studying you, and you can see a look of confusion cross his face. “I thought I heard you crying.”

“I’m not crying!” you insist, core clenching around the dildo. “Get out!” 

Hyuck doesn’t move. “I definitely heard a whimper,” he insists.

Your heart is practically racing in your chest, and you’re very much aware of the pleasurable feeling still thrumming from your core. Cock warming was something you enjoyed doing with Mark, and the fact that you’re cock warming a toy while Hyuck stares at you is having a wholly unexpected effect on your entire body.

“People whimper for all sorts of reasons!” you say dumbly. “Leave!”

Hyuck tilts his head to the side, assessing you again. “You never speak to me like this.”

“You usually don’t just barge in here unannounced!” 

“Yes, I do,” Hyuck points out. “Why’s tonight different?”

“What do you mean-”

“Something is different,” he says, more firmly this time. His gaze dips, taking in the blanket still wrapped tightly around your form. “Wait…” you see the exact moment he realizes what you’re up to, and even from a few feet away, you see the way his pupils dilate. “Are you…”

“Hyuck-” you groan, lifting the blankets to hide your face, hoping he can’t see the shame that’s beginning to consume you.

“You are, aren’t you?” 

“Are what?” you ask, deciding to play dumb.

You can hear him scoff, and you peak from under the blanket just in time to see his signature eye roll. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, something he does when he’s getting annoyed, and you can feel yourself dripping down your dildo. 

He meets your gaze again. “I didn’t hear a vibrator, so let me guess…” You watch him swallow thickly. “The toy’s still inside of you, isn’t it?”

Curse him for knowing you so well.

Curse him for having a dirty mind.

And maybe most of all, curse yourself for being so stupidly turned on that you can’t even deny what he’s just said. All you can do is groan loudly, hiding again. 

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“Yes!”

You hear him click his tongue. “Come on, gorgeous. We both know I can tell when you lie to me. We’ve been friends for years, you don’t have to be… ashamed about this.”

But shame is exactly what you’re feeling, and his words don’t help at all. 

“Please, just leave,” you sigh, so embarrassed you think you might actually die.

“What if… what if I helped you out a little?”

His words hang in the air, and your room feels thick with tension. You’re acutely aware of the toy still pressed between your thighs.  

“Look,” Hyuck says, voice softer, “I hate seeing you cry- but seeing you cry about something good might make us both feel better.” 

“You’re being crazy.” You peak out at him. “We’re roommates- Mark is one of your best friends-”

“I’ve known you longer and I’m loyal to you,” Hyuck insists firmly. “And besides, stranger things have happened.”

“Yeah? Like what?” you can’t help but laugh a little, and the contraction of your stomach muscles pushes the toy slightly out of your core, making you groan at the loss.

From the look that crosses Hyuck’s face, he obviously notices your sound, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “For one, the fact that you even dated Mark was a little crazy.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“But nice doesn’t fill you up at night. Nice doesn’t make you cum so hard you feel it through your whole body.” Hyuck holds up a hand. “And before you try to tell me Mark was good in bed, remember that I have a room next to yours. Mark is a nice guy, but that doesn’t mean he can fuck. Not the way you deserve.” 

You shift in your bed, sitting up a little to address your roommate. “Yeah? And how do I deserve to be fucked?” 

“You deserve someone who’s going to worship every inch of you. Someone who’s going to make you cum over and over- make you gush so good you’re begging for it, begging to finally get dicked down so hard you can’t even walk after. Someone who makes you cry for all the right reasons.” 

You stare at Hyuck. 

You’re not even sure what to say. 

He’s never talked like this to you, ever- at least, not in your waking hours.

You’ve had dreams about his sharp tongue, his long fingers, and his big cock- but never gave credence to your lustful fantasies. Hyuck’s always just been a friend- 

“Why now?” you find yourself asking. “After all this time-”

“I’m tired of watching you hurt over something I might be able to help you fix.”

“So cock is the fix to a broken heart?” 

“Gorgeous, I think we both know that what I’m offering you is more than cock.”

“Right, I’m guessing tongue and fingers-”

Hyuck gives you an unimpressed look. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

“That I’m super into you? That I’ve been into you since we met? That it killed me to watch you be with Mark when I knew you should have been with me?” 

“Hyuck-” you breathe, feeling even more whiplash from these words than his dirty talk.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything about that stupid feels shit, just… just let me take care of you tonight.”

“What if we regret it?” You press your thighs together, keeping the toy just inside of you while you begin to fidget with your blanket. “What if it ruins our friendship?”

“I’ve asked myself that same question for years,” Hyuck admits. “But… after looking at you now- I really don’t think that’s something we have to worry about.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m about to make you cum so hard you forget about every other man in your life.”

“Promise?”

He nods. “Promise.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Hyuck lets out a small laugh. “So… you going to lift those covers and let me see what I’m dealing with or…?”

“God,” you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“I call you gorgeous for a reason, don’t I?” Hyuck grins. “Come on, I wanna see.”

You grab at the blankets, taking a deep breath. Then you start to move them off your body.

Your roommate watches your every movement, dipping his head to focus as you lift the fabric covering your feet, then your calves-

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you tell him.

“Yeah, me neither,” Hyuck admits. “I’ve been waiting so long to see you like this.” 

His words make your stomach erupt in butterflies, and you feel the toy still half wedged in your core. “Should I… should I remove the dildo first?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I wanna see that too.” His eyes meet yours. “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re so fucking hot, I’m already hard.”

He reaches a hand down to cup the front of his sweatpants, and you realize he’s not lying. You can see the impressive print of his cock pressing against the fabric, and it makes your mouth water. It also gives you the confidence to fully reveal yourself to his hungry eyes, and the moment he sees you, Hyuck lets out a deep groan.

“Shit, gorgeous,” Hyuck says, letting out a deep breath. “You’re even more perfect than I’ve imagined.”

His words make you feel shy, and you close your legs, only for Hyuck to press a knee to the bed, both hands reaching out to prompt your thighs back open. 

“Don’t hide from me,” he warns, and there’s an edge to his tone. He’s still being soft with you, his touch gentle, but there’s an obvious hunger rising inside of him. “Tell me about this toy.”

“Well, I uh…” you search for your words. “It’s one of the first ones I ever bought-”

“It’s small,” Hyuck notes, which is kind of funny considering it’s Mark sized. “Can I use it on you?”

“You want to fuck me with the toy?” You blink at your long term friend and roommate.

“Gotta stretch you out to take something bigger.” Hyuck smirks devilishly, and your pussy throbs- he’s definitely bigger than Mark and the toy still half lodged inside of you. You can’t wait to find out how much bigger. 

“You can-” you bite at your lip, “you can fuck me with it.”

“Good girl,” Hyuck praises you, and you can feel yourself practically dripping around the dildo now.

You hold your breath in anticipation while Hyuck gets settled on the foot of the bed. His warm palms smooth over your thighs, forcing you wider, and then his fingers grab the base of the toy. “Do you like it slow?”

“I think… to start off with?” You feel too hazy to be able to answer questions, and he hasn’t even started with you. “But… when you fuck me, can you go fast, please?”

“Of course, gorgeous. I can do anything you want,” he assures you, applying pressure to the toy so it begins to lodge deeper inside of you. You let out a small sigh and Hyuck looks up at you, grinning. “You’re so wet, babe, making this too fucking easy.”

“It’s not my fault-” you defend yourself, voice shaky. 

“It’s mine, isn’t it?” His smile widens. “Talking dirty gets you going, huh, gorgeous?”

You nod, resting your head back against the pillows and closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of him beginning to work the toy in and out of your pussy. 

“Bet Mark’s dirty talk game was weak,” Hyuck says under his breath.

You don’t have it in you to agree with him, although… he’s correct. Something tells you he knows it too, because he lets out a small chuckle. 

Hyuck’s using his right hand to fuck you with the toy, and his left moves from your thigh. A moment later, his thumb is rubbing gentle circles on your clit and your toes curl from the stimulation. A gentle gasp escapes you and you can practically hear Hyuck smile.

“Feels good?” he prompts.

“So good,” you nod. You need something to hold onto, so you grab at the one piece of clothing on your body, a night shirt, which you lift up your to your abdomen, giving Hyuck more room to work. 

He rubs your clit harder and you let out a whine, feeling the familiar build of tension in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Hyuck tells you, and you can feel his breath on your pussy which makes you twitch. “God, I could watch you squirm like this all night.”

“Please-”

“Please what?” 

You don’t even know. All you know is listening to the squelching sound of the toy going in and out of you while his thumb rubs your clit is driving you insane.

“I want to kiss you,” you decide, realizing Hyuck’s about to make you cum and you haven’t even really gotten a taste of him. 

Hyuck stops what he’s doing immediately, manuevering up the bed so he’s on top of you, one hand pressed to the pillow while he looks down at you.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he grins.

Your hands explore his shoulders and one snakes into his hair, then you’re tugging his mouth down to your own. Hyuck’s gentle with you at first, but when you go to bite on his lower lip, he groans loudly. His tongue darts out to brush against your own, and the kiss deepens. 

You’re done with your toy. You want to feel him, and you reach between your bodies to remove the dildo, pulling it out and tossing it onto the floor next to the bed.

Hyuck breaks your kiss to look at the wet toy on the ground, and he lets out a small laugh, gaze returning to your own. “Why’d you do that?”

“I want you.”

“Yeah?” His hand slips between your forms, and two digits stroke the length of your pussy, making you moan. “Want me to make you cum all over my fingers?”

You nod, grabbing at the front of his shirt, tugging his mouth back to yours while he buries himself into you knuckle deep.

He strokes your walls, and the feeling is absolutely delightful, especially when he angles his hand, palm pressing to your clit while he seeks out your gspot. 

His lips are hot against your own, and they don’t muffle the sound of pleasure escaping you. 

Hyuck’s a bit of a gamer, but you never really realized his fingers could feel this good- 

“Shit, gorgeous,” he groans, breaking the kiss to move his mouth to your throat, where he lets out deep breaths. “You’re dripping all over my hand.”

“I’m so close-” you confess, gripping his shoulders tighter while he finger fucks you even harder, chasing your release.

“You’ll be a good girl and cum for me, right?” Hyuck prompts, which makes you mewl. “Yeah, you’ve always been such a good girl, gonna be good and cum all over my fingers-”

His words make you throb, and he applies more pressure to your clit with his palm. His lips press kisses to your neck and he finds your sweetspot, making everything feel all the more intense.

You’re on the edge, and you let out a loud gasp, clenching your eyes shut in anticipation.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Come on, I wanna feel you.”

His words make the cord in your stomach snap, and your body is flooded with the pleasure of your release. You feel it everywhere, and it makes you cry out while holding onto him tighter. His hand continues between your thighs, fingers unrelenting, palm heavy on your clit. 

Hyuck works you through your orgasm until you’re gasping and pushing at his shoulders, and then he straightens a little, motions stopping while he looks down at you. “Did you enjoy that?”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes a little. “You know I did.”

“Yeah, but you could still stroke my ego a little.”

“Stroke your ego?” You reach for his cock, gripping him through his sweats. “Like this?”

Hyuck lets out a low groan, thrusting forward to meet your hand. “As much as I’d love to watch you jack me off- tonight I’m here to make you feel better, and I’m not anywhere near being done with you yet.”

You’d never realized Hyuck had any self control, and you watch in shock as he gently moves your hand away.

“I’m going to eat you out now,” he tells you, slipping down the bed so he’s on his stomach between your legs. Hyuck spreads you open, gently kissing your inner thigh before looking up at you. “You good with this?”

“Uh huh,” you breathe, swallowing thickly as you prepare yourself for his tongue. “I’m still sensitive though.”

“I’ll go easy on you,” Hyuck promises, pressing a very soft kiss to your clit. “I can be gentle, contrary to popular belief.” 

You can’t help but let out a giggle, but the sound is cut short when Hyuck unexpectedly buries his face between your thighs. His tongue presses into your hole and the feeling has your legs quaking as he adjusts them over his shoulders, trying to dive even deeper.

“Shit, Hyuck-” you whimper, grabbing at his hair.

He’s always been a bit of a liar- maybe you shouldn’t have believed him when he said he’d go easy on you. But… at the same time, the way his nose repeatedly bumps your clit has a fire building in your abdomen again, and you really aren’t even that mad about it.

You can feel Hyuck smile against you, and it’s such a turn on to know he’s enjoying himself while providing you with pleasure. Mark had always been somewhat rigid in your sexual interactions, much more serious than the grinning cheshire cat between your legs now. 

Where Mark had been slow and tentative, Hyuck’s eager and passionate. He switches between lapping at your hole, sucking your clit, and pushing his tongue into you as deep as it can go, licking at your walls and working you up way faster than anyone else ever has in your entire life.

Then he begins to groan, and you realize he’s grinding against the bed-

Is eating you out really that sexy for him? 

You feel another gush of wetness from the thought and your pussy throbs, warning you both that you’re close again. Hyuck responds by adjusting ever so slightly, lips wrapping around your clit while he pushes a hand to your entrance, slipping two fingers inside.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum-” you gasp, back arching off the bed while the cord in your stomach is pulled unbelievably tight. 

Hyuck’s fingers twist in and out of your hole, and he licks at your clit in the most sloppy manner- it’s enough to have you exploding, a cry of pleasure escaping you while your core clamps down on your roommate. 

He groans loudly, sinfully, and the vibration against your clit has your legs shaking around his head, orgasm pulsing deep through your entire being. 

You’re practically crying at this point, and you can feel tears even while you clench your eyes shut, taking everything Hyuck’s giving you while moaning like a whore- you’ve never sounded this way, and there’s something almost addicting about the noises being torn out of you.

You know he feels it too, because Hyuck is completely unrelenting. If anything, he’s even more sloppy with the way he worships your pussy, fingers crooking up expertly-

You’re literally gushing around him, and you can feel it, can feel that your bed is going to be ruined after this. But you can’t bring yourself to care. All you can do is grab at your sheets, crying to the ceiling while your best friend makes you feel pleasure so intense that you can’t even think. 

He’s fulfilled his promise about making you cry for good reasons… and he hasn’t even taken his cock out yet.

You’ve never been this needy in your entire life, and when he pulls away from your core, allowing you to catch your breath, you peak out at him from under wet lashes. 

“You’re literally perfect,” he tells you, voice deep. His pupils are completely blown now and he’s breathing as heavily as you are.

You watch him bring glistening fingers up to his lips, slowly sucking them clean and moaning loudly at the taste of you before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Fuck, and you’re already crying-” Hyuck sits up, leaning over you and reaching out to brush some of your tears away. “God, you’re fucking beautiful.” 

“Hyuck-” you whimper, shocked that you’re choking up.

Your body is still being flooded with emotion and sensations. Your nipples are hard under your shirt and the fabric is becoming uncomfortable, making you more sensitive-

“Going to let me take care of you now, right, gorgeous?” he asks, pinching at your chin and leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Please-” You grab at your shirt and Hyuck follows through by helping you take it off.

You’re now fully revealed to him, and your best friend sits back to appreciate you, letting out a deep breath. 

“Mark’s so fucking stupid for letting you go,” Hyuck says.

His words are bitter sweet, and in your overstimulated state, you find your lower lip wobbling as you hold back a choked sob. 

“Shh,” Hyuck whispers, reaching out to cup your cheek. “It’s better to be with someone who knows your worth, like I do. I’d never fucking treat you the way he did- I promise.”

The look on his face is so intense, and you know he’s telling you the truth.

Your body relaxes a little- Hyuck really is such a good guy, and what he’s doing for you helps more than he’ll probably ever know. He’s making you feel sexy again, making you feel needed and wanted and maybe even loved. 

“Besides,” Hyuck clears his throat, taking off his own shirt, “I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll forget all about that asshole.”

You can’t help but laugh sadly, wiping at your own face to get rid of the last tears while you watch Hyuck move to work on his sweats. 

When he pushes the waistband down, revealing his cock, you think you might actually faint.

You’ve always thought Hyuck was a pretty guy, sexy of course, but pretty too- and his cock? It’s as stupidly pretty as the rest of him.

He must be a little over seven inches, and he’s girthy too-

You can feel yourself practically drooling as you look at him, and Hyuck smirks at your reaction. “Sure you’re ready for this, gorgeous?”

“If you don’t fuck me I think I might die.”

He laughs at your words. “Then I guess I better fuck you.”

“Should we…” you bite at your lip. “Do we need condoms?”

“Babe,” Hyuck scoffs. “Babe- we’re both clean, right? And I know you’re on birth control… do you want me to wear a condom? I always kind of imagined you’d be the kind of girl who wants to be full.”

How many times has he imagined this, you wonder. 

But he’s right. You want him to fill you up like no one else has.

“Come here,” you say, holding open your arms while he kicks his sweats off.

Hyuck’s hands find the pillows by your head and he slots himself between your legs, lips pressing against your own.

You thread your fingers through his soft brown hair, kissing him eagerly. You want to get lost in him, and it’s easy to do that when he begins to rut his cock against your pussy, bumping your clit and making your thighs shake around his hips.

“Just fuck me,” you groan, already feeling so unbelievably needy.

Hyuck smirks against your lips, pulling away to look down at you with mischief in his eyes. “You’re so fucking hot it’s insane.”

“Then why aren’t you inside me yet?”

He moans a little, dipping his head to look between your bodies while he reaches for the base of his cock, lining himself up with your hole. “If it hurts, I’ll stop.”

You’re about to scoff and tell him he’s not that big when he pushes his head into your entrance and a gasp leaves your lips. The stretch is very real, and you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, closing your eyes and focusing on getting your body to relax.

You can practically feel your pussy struggling to make room for him, and even though you’re as wet as a fucking slip and slide, it’s still a little difficult for him to push in inch after inch-

“Fuck,” you whimper, and Hyuck rewards you by burying his face in your throat, peppering your skin in kisses. The soft feeling of his lips is enough to distract you from the intrusion opening up your pussy, and soon his hips are flush against your own, making you both release groans of pleasure.

“You ready for this?” Hyuck asks.

“God, yes-” 

He reaches for your hand, pressing it to the pillow and threading your fingers. Then he kisses you softly-

When he begins to rut into you, it’s anything but soft.

Hyuck’s motions are calculated and rough, the tip of his cock hitting a spot deep inside of you that has you squeezing his hand. You’d be cussing if it weren’t for his hot lips against your own, lips that have gotten increasingly demanding, his tongue stroking yours while you gasp.

It feels amazing- like, truly. You’ve never been fucked like this, and he’s only just started.

He stops kissing you, breathing heavily while he fucks you even harder. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You’re literally balls deep inside of me,” you nearly laugh. “You can ask me anything.”

“I’m just,” Hyuck groans, squeezing your hand. “Did you ever think about me when you were fucking Mark?”

Your pussy clenches at the question, from shock or hornyness, you’re not sure. 

“I-”

“You did, didn’t you?” Hyuck grins. “Don’t think I didn’t just feel you get super fucking tight around me- God, you are dirty like me, aren’t you, gorgeous? I thought… thought that when you started dating soft boy Mark, maybe you were more vanilla, but that’s not you, is it?”

“No-”

“You like to get fucked, properly, don’t you, babe?” Hyuck continues.

“Fuck, yes-”

“And Mark didn’t know how to do that for you, did he? Mark didn’t know how to make you wet like this, didn’t know how to make you cry or scream or beg-”

You can’t bring yourself to verbally slander Mark while Hyuck’s fucking you like a wild man, so instead you just shake your head. Your confirmation makes Hyuck grin, and he fucks you even harder, the whole bed rocking while the sound of skin on skin fills the room. 

“You know what? Enough about Mark. Forget him. You don’t need him anymore.” Hyuck’s mouth is hot on your neck and his words make you shiver as he moves to suck your earlobe. “You only need me. You only need me, I promise.” 

Hyuck lets go of your hand and you’re about to argue with him about it when he shoves his fingers between your bodies, rubbing at your clit while he fucks you.

“Hyuck!” you whimper, writhing beneath him.

“That’s it gorgeous. I wanna ruin you for anyone else. After this, no one’s going to make you cum like I can.” He’s groaning now, voice all breathy and super sexy- “If I make you cum three times the first time I fuck you, that means you’re mine right?”

You moan loudly at the idea, grabbing his shoulders while he works you closer and closer to yet another orgasm that you have no doubt will be as mind blowing as the first two. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” Hyuck says, voice gruffer now. “Fuck, gorgeous, I want you so badly- just say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp when he applies more pressure to your clit.

“That’s my girl,” Hyuck smiles against your neck. “You’ll let me mark you right? Let me suck some pretty bruises into your skin so every time you look in the mirror you know your roommate fucks you right-”

His tongue darts out, licking a stripe of your throat before his lips press to your sweet spot. He suctions his mouth onto you, teeth grazing your skin and causing you to cry out while you move your hands to tug on his hair.

Hyuck lets out a sinful groan when you pull gently on his soft brown strands, but he doesn’t let up. He’s entirely focused on you and your pleasure, cock continuing to rearrange your insides while his fingers abuse your nearly overstimulated clit-

“I’m so close-” you whimper, eyes closed as your body once again approaches the edge with startling speed. 

“Yeah?” Hyuck moves away from your neck and you get the sense that he’s looking down at you. “Gonna cum on this cock and let me fill you up? Gonna let me breed you like the good girl you are? Make you so stupidly full that you’re fucking dripping?”

“Yes, fuck, Hyuck, please-” You’re on the verge of tears again, whole body thrumming with energy-

“Then cum for me. Let me fucking feel you.” 

You twitch from his words, and then you’re falling over the edge, gasping and clawing at him while you’re overcome with ecstasy. You’re not sure if it’s because this is your third orgasm, or if it’s because his cock is balls deep inside of you, but this orgasm is the most intense of them all.

You’re reduced to a completely primal side of yourself, brain short circuiting while your body takes over. There are no thoughts, only the attempt to process all the pleasure that’s flowing through you like a river that’s broken through a dam. 

The sounds escaping you are unlike anything that has ever come from your vocal cords, and Hyuck is also cumming, groaning loudly as he presses his lips to yours. His tongue is hot as it licks at your bottom lip, and his thrusts are erratic. 

He takes his hand away from your clit in favour of finding yours again, fingers locking while he squeezes you. You can feel the passion radiating off of him, can feel that this won’t be a one time thing and you both know it.

Hyuck takes care of you through your orgasms until you’re both finished, and his motions begin to slow until he’s simply half laying on top of you, his kisses much more gentle as you gasp into each others mouths. 

His hips are flush against your own, keeping his cum inside of you while you make out. His body is warm and it almost feels like a security blanket draped across your own. Hyuck’s fingers are still tangled with yours, and it feels nice just to be holding someone’s hand again.

“Fuck, gorgeous,” Hyuck groans, pulling away from your lips, “if we keep kissing I might have to fuck you again, and I don’t think you could take another orgasm.”

“Not tonight,” you agree, blinking up at your roommate. 

It’s like you’re seeing him in a new light, and you assess the soft details of his features. He really is a beautiful man.

“And we ruined your bed,” Hyuck says with a grin. “You were squirting earlier and your sheets are too wet to sleep in, so I guess that means you’re coming to my room tonight.”

“You want me to sleep with you?” you nearly laugh.

“I’d honestly be offended if you didn’t.” He lets go of your hand, pushing himself off of you. “I didn’t get to touch your tits at all, and I’d like to have something to grab onto when we sleep.”

“God, you’re such a menace,” you giggle, pushing at his chest.

“You love it,” Hyuck insists, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Come on, we should shower.”

“So we’re showering together now too? Weren’t you the guy who said Mark was being clingy by wanting to see me every day when we started dating?”

“It’s clingy when Mark does it,” Hyuck notes. “When I do it, it’s endearing and charming and sexy-”

“Sure it is,” you say sarcastically, shaking your head at him.

“What happened to my good girl?” Hyuck teases. “If you keep talking back, I might be tempted to ruin you in the shower.”

Now that you’re thinking about it, that doesn’t actually sound like the worst thing in the world.

“Fine, let’s go,” you concede, letting out a sigh.

There’s so much you could say about what has just taken place, but one thing you can state with confidence is that you do feel better. Hyuck had made you forget about Mark, if only for a short while before he started shit talking his friend- but, his words of slander hadn’t actually made you mad or sad or upset- they’d actually kind of had the opposite effect.

Life will go on after Mark Lee, and Hyuck’s made you realize that.

In fact, maybe your life after Mark will go on with Hyuck. 

Maybe it was always meant to be this way. 

You’re too tired to think about these big ideas in detail tonight, not after everything that’s just happened. Instead, you allow yourself to live in the moment, allow your roommate to take care of you the way he always has.

For now, this is more than enough. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I'm back in my Hyuck feels again

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “So perfect,” Hyuck tells you, reaching his hands up to cup your breasts.  Before he can dive in, however, you press the ice pack to his face again and he winces below you. A scowl forms, and he glares into your eyes. “Maybe I don’t like it when you take care of me.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, thigh riding, multiple reader orgasms, dirty talk, praise, claim kink, boob worship, big dick Hyuck, sex in on the living room couch, physical altercation between new boy and ex, overstim, holding off an orgasm, cumming together, light spanking, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous, babe .

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.9k I teaser wc. 220

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!reader

bonus

“Dude,” Jeno sighs, staring at the man sitting on his couch. “You did not-”

“Except that I did,” Hyuck smirks. “You should be happy for me.”

“Is that what you’re going to say to Mark after you tell him you fucked his ex?” Renjun asks, narrowing his eyes at their naughtiest friend. 

“Actually,” Hyuck sighs, leaning back against the couch, “I think we shouldn’t tell Mark, not yet at least.”

“So now you’re making us all culpable in your bullshit,” Renjun groans loudly, rolling his eyes. 

Hyuck gaze shifts from the angry aries to Jaemin, who’s yet to say anything since Hyuck’s big reveal. “You’re cool with this, aren’t you?”

“I mean…” Jaemin cocks his head to the side, “you have wanted to be with her for years-” 

“See, Jaemin gets it!” Hyuck grins, eyes turning to his part time gym buddy next. “And Jeno? You understand where I’m coming from, don’t you?”

“Mark is not going to be happy about this,” Jeno frowns.

“And I wasn’t happy when he started dating my roommate crush,” Hyuck states, “or when he broke up with her unexpectedly.”

“Don’t lie,” Renjun scoffs, “we all know you probably celebrated when they ended things.”

“Only a little,” Hyuck confesses, grinning again. “Okay but for real,” his expression turns serious, “guys, I think I love her.”

☀️to read the full 3.9k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

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general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

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@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas

✘ nct taglist

@milkyway-vxm - @nctsawrus - @shiningdery - @freezerandfame

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@sehunniepot

Thank you to everyone who interacted with the teaser

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Gente, preciso tirar uma coisa do meu peito: eu tô muito apaixonada no Haechan. Juro pô6! Ando até escutando muito My first and last pq na minha cabeça essa música é >>dele<<

É isso, obrigada pela atenção 😊

sometimes I'll start reading the most toe curling Jisung smut then suddenly something doesn't feel right and I go to the tags and it's han not park and I just laugh because then it feels like I came home and all the lights were off so I climbed into bed and had sex with someone that I thought was my husband but it was actually the guy who lives next door.

right neighborhood, wrong man.

୧ ‧₊🎧 let me in your ocean, swim bangchan x producer!f!reader

summary: “Chan, you’re an idiot,” Changbin sighs and Chan whips around. “What did I do now?!” he asks, trying to give his voice a joking edge but failing miserably. “She’s so into you, and you don’t even see it,” Changbin states grandly, like it’s the most glaringly obvious thing in the world. Jisung huffs out a giggle next to him, but nods. -> In which Chan is a little self-conscious and a lot clueless, Changbin is his therapist and his wingman, and you get really sick of waiting for Chan to get his shit together.

word count: 9.9k words

author's note: a little self-indulgent producer!reader bang chan fic because I too wanna make him feel safe and confident and I think the studio is where he would feel like that. I know I do, too, because fun fact I used to want to be a producer but then i studied music journalism and then life happened and here I am. also this is equal parts plot and smut sooo .... enjoy?!

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it & pee after sex, guys); oral & throatfucking/oral (m & f receiving); fingering (f receiving); only a tiny bit of choking; only the slightest d/s dynamics; cursing because it's channie; mentions of other idols I don't know anything about so don't lynch me if something doesn't work ok soz

skzms' masterlist

“Okay, hear me out, what if the 808 did a dum dum d-dum at the end of this bar?”

Chan hums, fingers flying over the keyboard, mouse dragging the notes around. When he’s done and hits play again, the verse burst through the speakers. It sounds good, better even.

This was your job. Producing, mixing and editing music. You had replaced their previous guy about a year ago, breezing into the studio on day one, so pretty it had taken Chan’s breath away, and had given them firm handshakes and a huge smile, before taking control of the room and the computer with such professionalism that it made his knees weak. The three of them spent a solid day scuffing their feet into the floor like boys on the first day of school before they finally managed to relax. Now, not a week went by without Jisung jokingly referring to your joint studio sessions as “4racha time”.

“I like that,” he hums when he presses pause, and you clap excitedly, bouncing up and down on your chair a little. When he rests his chin in his hand, he realises he’s smiling.

“I love it, it even creates a little syncopation with the vocals there. It’s catchy,” you gush before swivelling around on your chair, turning to where Jisung and Changbin are lounging on the sofa.

Changbin and Jisung were usually less involved with this specific part of the work – this part being the painstaking adjustment of the mix, the addition of details, last-minute changes to the music. They didn’t have the patience for it, so they usually took the time to scroll through TikTok or doze while you and Chan sat there for hours, clicking, replaying, looping, adjusting the EQ.

Chan loved this kind of work. Loved that he could let himself sink into your proverbial professional hands, let you guide him from song to song, not letting him get hung up on something for too long, always solid and calm and confident. It was soothing. Here, he didn’t have to be anything, be anyone. He just had to do what he did best. It felt better than being shoved into clothes and smouldering at the camera ever could. Not that the minded that part of the job, but this was the part he loved.

“I agree, that little syncopation sounds really good with Jisung’s vocals,” Changbin agrees, running his hand through his black curls and giving you an exaggerated thumbs up.

You give him a smile before turning to Jisung.

“Jisung?”

Jisung looks up from his phone blearily and blinks at you.

“Sorry, can you play it again?”

Chan huffs out a laugh and restarts the verse, letting it play until the end, where it leads into the pre-chorus. Jisung purses his lips and finally nods with an approving smile.

Chan can basically taste the satisfaction rolling off you. Your energy was always like that; like a current running through the studio, one that he gladly let sweep him up, letting it carry him along and through so many long days and nights.

He doesn’t realise you turned back to him until he hears your voice. When he turns his head, you’re looking at him expectantly.

“So we keep it?” you ask, and Chan watches your eyes race over his face to try to gauge his reaction.

“We all just agreed,” he chuckles out awkwardly and he can feel his ears starting to burn. Great. You’re still grinning when you roll your eyes at him and shrug.

“Yeah, but you only said you liked it, plus, you have the final say,” you say calmly and Chan blinks at the screen dumbly, his cheeks flaring up more, before he finally turns to you.

“I’m pretty sure JYP doesn’t pay you to listen to us,” he quips and raises a playful eyebrow at you. He hopes you can’t hear that he kind of means it.

You glare back at him, but your lips are still curled into a smile.

“JYP pays me to make your music great – and to do that I will listen to whoever I think is really good at what they do,” you say and give him a wink that makes his ears burn more.

“So … keep?” you ask again and this time Chan just nods and you mumble a quiet nice, scooting your chair closer to him. When you take the mouse from him, your fingertips trail over the back of his hand and it sends goosebumps racing down his arm.

When you get up to leave an hour later, much earlier than usual, you rest a hand on Chan’s shoulder as you chat with Changbin. He tells himself that it’s normal, that you’re friends, that he shouldn’t be overthinking about how comfortable you must be with him to do this so absentmindedly. He also has to tell himself to keep breathing normally.

“Why are you leaving already?” Jisung asks with a yawn, “we all know Channie-hyung gets nothing done when you’re not here.”

Chan half turns and gives Jisung a glare, but Jisung just grins at him.

You chuckle and shift your weight, your hand falling from Chan’s shoulder. He feels the absence of it way too keenly.

“I gotta be back here tomorrow at 10 with Gunil and the boys,” you shrug and hoist your bag further up your shoulder.

“From Xdinary Heroes?” Changbin asks and you nod, “I didn’t know you started working with them.”

Right. Sometimes Chan forgets you’re not just here when they are. You work with other groups.

“Started at their last comeback. They’re the exact opposite of you, funnily enough,” you chuckle, “they always wanna come in first thing in the morning.”

Do you work with them the same way? The other boys are too young, but do you joke with Gunil the same way you joke with Chan? Do you rest your hand on his shoulder before you leave? Chan furrows his brows and keeps clicking around ProTools aimlessly.

There’s a lull in the conversation.

“Well, I’ll be going,” you announce before your hand comes back to Chan’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly, “don’t work too late. Same time tomorrow?”

Chan doesn’t trust himself to look at you, so he just nods, and waits until Jisung hums out an affirmative. Your hand disappears, the door opens and shuts, and your footsteps echo down the hallway. He finally lets out the breath he’s been holding.

“Chan, you’re an idiot,” Changbin sighs and Chan whips around.

“What did I do now?!” he asks, trying to give his voice a joking edge but failing miserably.

“She’s so into you and you don’t even see it,” Changbin states grandly, like it’s the most glaringly obvious thing in the world. Jisung huffs out a giggle next to him, but nods.

Chan shakes his head jerkily, crossing his arms over his chest.

“She treats me the same way she treats you guys,” he denies, though his heart clenches uncomfortably in his chest.

Jisung properly laughs at that.

“Channie-hyung, she touched your shoulder twice. For, like, literally no reason. Also, she keeps staring at you when you’re not looking. Just watches you click around. It’s really cute.”

Chan can feel a single tendril of hope lick up his spine. Changbin seems to see it in his eyes.

“You’re clearly into her as well,” he states, and Chan makes a non-committal sound that half sounds like a negation. Changbin’s brows furrow. “You go stupid every time she smiles at you. You comment on her outfit, you bring her coffee, sometimes you drive her home. You always agree when she makes a suggestion.”

Anger flares in Chan’s gut.

“She makes good suggestions! She’s a really good fucking producer!” he can tell he’s almost yelling and he clears his throat. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

“She is,” Changbin says with a little smile, “She’s a really good producer, she’s super hot, and she’s into you.”

The words make Chan nearly sick with promise, but there’s a whisper in the back of his head that keeps him from believing Changbin fully. Surely, it wouldn’t be him. The mental image of you flirting with Gunil makes him flinch.

“It wouldn’t work anyways,” he mumbles, turning back to the computer, “plus, maybe she’s the same way with Gunil. He’s definitely the hotter choice.”

“I’m pretty sure Gunil’s gay,” Jisung muses. Chan just glares at the screen.

“Well, if it’s not Gunil, then it’s one of the other 20 idols she works with. Or literally anyone else.”

He hears how pathetic he sounds and he’s glad he can avoid Changbin’s prying eyes. But, predictably, Changbin doesn’t leave him alone. He gets up and plops down into the chair you only recently abandoned and leans forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Chan, you need to stop talking about yourself like that,” he says intently, and Chan almost feels bad. Changbin’s right, he should stop talking about himself like that. But it still wouldn’t change the fact that that’s what he thinks about himself. What a lot of people think about him, for that matter.

He doesn’t respond, just saves the project for the 12th time in the last five minutes. He can’t forget to fix that snare, like you said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Changbin throw a look towards Jisung, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. They’ve been here before. Changbin lets it go and gets up.

“Let’s go home, get an early night for once,” he suggests and Chan looks up at him, “you know Jisung’s right, you get nothing done when Y/N’s not here.”

Chan waves him off.

“I’ll stick around for a while, I wanna figure out the bridge on the last track.”

They leave, begrudgingly. Chan sticks around until 3 in the morning, until his eyes are burning and he’s halfway convinced himself that Jisung’s wrong and you’re hooking up with Gunil. The bridge sounds worse now, so he reverts the project back to where it was when Changbin and Jisung left and goes home.

It’s no surprise that he sleeps like shit. He wakes up and drags himself through dance practice, Minho giving him worried glares every now and again. He nearly falls asleep in the shower after.

When he opens the door to the studio at 7.30pm and is welcomed by the smell of leather and technology, the whirring of the computers and the eery soundlessness of the padding – it’s like coming home.

He drops his bag on the floor and lets himself fall into his chair with a sigh. He leans back all the way, his muscles slowly relaxing, legs stretching out in front of him deliciously. Maybe he can rest his eyes, just for five minutes, until Changbin and Jisung get here …

He must’ve nodded off pretty quickly because he’s awoken by a gentle pressure on his arm and a soft voice saying his name and he hums, still half in his dream, before he flutters his eyes open.

You’re leaning over him with the gentlest look in your eyes and a soft smile on your lips, and for a second, he thinks he’s still dreaming, but then he realises where he is and that he fell asleep in the chair and that you just found him.

He blinks the sleep from his eyes and you lean back, pulling your hand back in the process. God, he hates when you pull your hand back. But you’re still smiling at him, which makes him feel a little better.

“Long day?” you ask, and Chan sits up slowly, blearily blinking the sleep from his eyes. You fall into your chair and pull out your iPad. He turns to you and nods.

“Didn’t sleep much last night,” he mumbles, his shoulder cracking loudly when he stretches his arms behind his back. He thinks he sees your eyes flutter down to where his t-shirt rides up, but he tells himself to stop projecting.

“Did you stay late again?” you scold gently, and he shrugs apologetically.

“Tried to fix the bridge,” he explains, and you nod.

“God, that bridge,” you mumble, “how did it go?”

Chan just shakes his head.

“Nothing worked, it’s still the same,” he admits and averts his eyes. He half expects you to be disappointed in him, which he doesn’t want to see. Or maybe you’ll make a joke about what Jisung said last night, that he wouldn’t get anything done without you. But you just shrug.

“There are those days,” you say and pat his arm gently. Right, he thinks, you wouldn’t make him feel bad about things. You never do. He can’t think about it too long, so he changes the subject.

“How did it go with Gunil today?” he asks and he hopes he sounds neutral, despite the hours and hours last night that he had imagined you flirting with the guy.

You look at him briefly and then you shrug.

“It went well,” you reply, “they’re really professional and Gunil always has great input. Also, I get to record actual instruments, so that’s always fun. I don’t get to do that often.”

Chan just nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, and turns back to the screen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His brain chants. Say something.

“That’s … nice,” he offers and grimaces immediately. That was the most awkward thing he could’ve said. You watch him carefully and it feels like your gaze is burning holes into his soul.

He’s saved by his phone buzzing, Changbin’s name lighting up the screen. Right, Changbin and Jisung. They’re meant to be here by now.

8.15pm Changbin hey man, jisung and I can’t make it to the studio tonight send Y/N our love you should make the most of tonight

Chan blinks at his phone stupidly. He has all their calendars. He saw them earlier. There is no reason why they wouldn’t be able to …

Ah. They’re setting him up. Great. Fantastic. Annoyance flares up deep in his gut. He’s not in the mood for his meddling members.

He does his best to shake off his frustration before he looks up at you and oh dammit, fuck, you’re so pretty. It doesn’t happen often that he gets you all to himself for a whole evening. It’s making his heartbeat flutter in his chest.

“Jisung and Changbin can’t make it tonight,” he announces and you turn around, surprise written all over your features.

“Really?! I thought I saw them in the cafeteria earlier.”

Chan curses Changbin out in his head.

“Yeah, something just came up, very spontaneous,” Chan explains and you shrug.

“Oh well, this more our work anyways, isn’t it,” you say, smiling at him in a way that Chan can’t quite read. You turn to the screen and double-click on the song with the cursed bridge.

Our work, it reverberates through Chan’s head.

For the next two hours, Chan doesn’t focus on work. He can’t. He’s too busy wondering if he’s going insane or if you’re sitting closer to him than usual. But he so clearly feels your thigh resting against his knee, feels your jeans rub against his sweats with every one of your movements.

You’re finally finished with one of the tracks and you lean back, lifting your hands up in celebration with a yawn. Chan can’t keep his eyes away from your thighs, how they’re squished together on the seat of your chair, running up into your waist, the barest sliver of skin visible …

“You don’t have many parts in this one,” you state and his eyes snap up to your face, but you’re not looking at him, instead pursing your lips at the project that’s still open on the screen. “Like, you only have half a chorus and some ad-libs.”

Chan shrugs. Of course, of all the people, you would notice.

“Oh, you know,” he starts, burying his fists in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He should really start dressing nicer for the studio, he looks like a slob next to you in your nice tight jeans and sweet, soft sweaters. Fuck, he wants to run his hands underneath those sweaters every damn time. Stop, Chan. Stop being weird.

“Why?” you ask, finally looking at him, cocking your head to the side. The look in your eyes reminds him a lot of Changbin’s and he bristles.

“Well, you know, Jisung sounds much better on the bridge. Minho had less parts last comeback and gets the centre” he tries to reason, but you keep looking at him, “plus, nobody wants to see that.”

Your eyebrows pull together.

“See what?”

“Me,” he says quietly, “Stay wants to see the boys, wants to see Hyunjin dance and hear Seungmin sing and Jisung rap.”

You’re staring at him now and he feels like an idiot. Fuck, why did he say that?

“You think they don’t want to see you?” you ask calmly, slowly and he nods and shrugs. You scoff and shake your head.

“You’re an idiot, Channie,” you say, your pretty face pulled into a scowl as you turn back to the screen. Ouch.

“Why does everyone keep calling me that?!” he snaps, his face darkening. “I’m doing my fucking best, okay?!”

He has never gotten angry at you, ever. But now his heart is thumping in his chest and he’s glaring at you. You look surprised for a second before the expression on your face sours.

“Exactly! You’re doing your best and you’re doing a great fucking job, but you keep saying you don’t.”

Your words confuse him. You look angry, but also something else he doesn’t understand. Clearly, you didn’t want silence because you get up, and shove your iPad into your bag.

“You’re an idiot because you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. You’re an idiot because I like working with you the most because you’re so good at what you do and you’re so fucking kind and always pay attention to the people around you. You’re an idiot because you say people don’t want to see you when you’re literally sex on legs. And it’s not that you lack confidence, no, because you wouldn’t be here without it – you’re an idiot because everyone keeps trying to be nice to you and you pretend like you don’t deserve it. Well, guess what, you do.”

And without another word, you stomp out of the room. The door slams behind you and Chan can feel his heartbeat in his ears. What?!

“She said what?!” Changbin squeaks out the next morning, in the hallway of their dorm, waiting for Hyunjin and Jisung.

Chan nods, running his hand through his hair nervously.

“Chan,” he just says, and Chan can see the disappointment in his face.

“Bin, if you call me an idiot, I swear to God I will punch you.”

Changbin scoffs.

“I won’t, but you know what you have to do now, right?”

Chan groans.

“No, I don’t know, actually. What am I even meant to say?”

Changbin sighs.

“She basically told you she likes you,” he says carefully and shushes Chan when Chan is about to interrupt him.

“Who told Chan she liked him?!” Hyunjin exclaims from behind Chan, and he lets his head fall back against the wall with a thud.

Changbin repeats everything Chan just told him, and Hyunjin excitedly grabs Chan’s arm.

“Dude, that is so romantic! It’s like a movie!” He gushes, staring at Chan with stars in his eyes, “she totally likes you.”

Chan wants to fucking cry because he wants to believe it so badly.

“Fine, let’s assume she does, which is still crazy to me,” he finally says and Changbin nods, “how on earth do I talk to her now? She’s angry with me!”

“Oh, Channie, she’s not angry,” Changbin says with a smile, “what you’ll do is you’ll go to the company and find out what her schedule is like today and then you will go get her a coffee and you will pick her up from her last session and …”

“And then you kiss her and tell her something really deep like ‘I want to deserve you’ and then you go home with her and make sweet love to her until the sun …”

“Hyunjin!” Chan all but shrieks, but Changbin giggles.

“Not the worst plan, to be honest,” he teases, and Chan presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until it hurts.

Jisung finally walks into the hallway with his hood over his head, blinking at them.

“What did I miss?”

Changbin laughs and turns to open the door.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

Despite it all, Chan does listen to them. When they’re done with the music show recording and everyone goes home, he ignores Changbin’s eyebrow wiggle, gets into his own car and drives to the company – with a brief detour to his favourite café down the road.

As he walks up to the reception with your coffee in hand, he has a brief moment of panic and his steps falter. What if you’re not there any more. What if you already left. You’re meant to record vocals with them tomorrow afternoon. He can’t face you in front of everyone.

The receptionist looks up at him when he stops in front of her.

“Hi, I was just wondering, is Y/N still here?”

His voice sounds odd to him. The receptionist taps away at her keyboard.

“She is, she’s booked with Itzy for another hour. Studio 5.”

Chan nods, hoping that she can’t hear the nerves in his voice.

“Does she have anything else on her calendar today?”

The receptionist looks down and then shakes her head.

“No, that’s her last thing today. She’s back tomorrow at 3pm with you.”

Chan nods again, giving her a quiet thank you before he turns and makes his way to the elevator.

In. Out. In. Out. He can do this. If Hyunjin and Changbin both say you’re not mad at him, you’re probably not, right?

He walks up to Studio 5 and mercifully, the ‘recording’ sign above the door is off. Before he can chicken out, he raises his hand and knocks rapidly. There’s silence, then a distant, “come in”.

When he opens the door, he’s faced with 6 women staring at him; you at your desk, Yeji leaning against the desk next to you, the rest of her members scattered around the room. His face immediately flushes red-hot.

“Y/N,” he says quietly and you rapidly blink your eyes before you get up and walk over to where he’s rooted to the spot in the doorframe.

You stop in front of him, far too close to not be distracting.

“Chan?”

He takes a deep breath.

“I … uhh, I brought you coffee,” he says, awkwardly extending it to you. He can feel the eyes of the other girls burning holes into the side of his head. You take the coffee from him wordlessly. He tries to ignore the audience, tries to focus on your eyes. Oh, your damn eyes, so pretty and intelligent.

“And I thought, uhh, maybe, if you don’t mind, after you’re done, we could talk?”

You’re looking up at him, your face unreadable. You’re wearing new earrings today, he notices. They look pretty.

You watch his eyes rest on your ears and huff out a laugh when his gaze meets yours again. You shake your head, but you smile.

“Sure, I’d like that, but we still have at least an hour left.”

“I’ll wait,” Chan says, too fast and much too eager. “I’ll wait for you. In our studio, I’ll just get some work done.”

He won’t, he thinks. There’s no way.

You nod, your smile even softer now. So soft. Fuck.

“Okay,” you say and he smiles, too, unable to help it.

“Okay … I’ll uhh leave you to it, sorry, I’ll go, I’ll see you later,” he mutters out, bowing awkwardly at the rest of the girl group and closes the door behind him. Once he’s outside, he can hear silence and then loud squeals and chatter.

He doesn’t get any work done in the next hour, haphazardly clicking through his open projects until the door cracks open slightly.

He slams his laptop shut when you poke your head into the room, and you chuckle. He just smiles at you, so giddy with your smile, your presence, this feeling that something is about to change. He doesn’t say anything, just waits, lets you set the pace. He can be patient, he’d do anything for you.

“Wanna drive me home?” you ask and he nods, already shoving his laptop into his bag.

You’re quiet as you walk down the hallway, you’re quiet in the elevator, though you do lean against the wall right next to him, so close he can smell your perfume. He leads you into the garage and to his car and you punch your address into his phone. As if he hadn’t memorised the way there the third time he drove you home, almost 10 months ago.

You still haven’t said a single word when he pulls up in front of your house. Did he miss something? Were you waiting for him to talk? Your hand finds the door handle and you crack it open, though you look back at him and raise your eyebrows.

“I figured it would be nicer if we didn’t have this conversation in the car,” you say slowly and he blinks at you.

“Do you want me to–“

You laugh, a clear, shimmering sound.

“Yes, Chan, please come inside with me.”

He nods, his cheeks already on fire again, as he kills the engine and scrambles out of the car.

When you unlock your door, he realises he has driven you home countless times, but he has never actually seen your apartment. You push the door open and hold it for him, before toeing your shoes off. He does the same and follows you into the living room.

His first thought is that it’s cozy, so cozy he feels like an intruder, like a stranger that just walked into your head. The sofa looks worn and comfortable, full of throw pillows, a thick blanket bunched up next to your laptop. There are candles on the low table in front of it, most of them half burned down. He wonders if that’s where you sit when you work from home. Cozied up in the blanket, your laptop on your lap, the candles burning.

Behind the sofa there’s a large wooden dining table, half of it taken up by miscellaneous papers and magazines. All around the room there’s … music. Two electric guitars on one wall, a bass leaning against the side of a low storage cabinet that is bursting open, cables hanging onto the floor. There are records on the walls, records under your TV, your record player next to it.

“Do you want anything to drink?” you ask from the half open kitchen, and he looks over. You’re leaning over the half open fridge. “I have water, Diet Coke, beer, wine, or I can make you some coffee?”

“Geez, you have everything,” he hums out, brutally reminded of the yawning emptiness and ungodly mess of his dorms. Compared to that, this place seems calm, clean … mature.

Your laugh echoes back to him.

“Hardly. For example, I actually have no idea how long this wine has been open for.”

That makes him laugh as well, some of the tension melting from his bones.

“I’m good for now,” he says and you shrug, getting a bottle of water from the fridge and walking past him until you’re sat on the sofa, folding your legs underneath yourself.

He follows you, but suddenly gets distracted by a pile of bright pink books on the storage cabinet next to your table. No way.

“Are those …?” he asks, a disbelieving chuckle tumbling from his lips. You giggle and get up, rounding the sofa until you’re standing next to him.

“Your albums, yeah, the ones I worked on,” you explain with a smile. Now there’s a blush on your cheeks. “A couple of versions for good measure.”

Chan just chuckles again, shaking his head.

“I hope you at least got them for free from the company,” he mumbles and you just chuckle. He stares at the pile. They’re all there.

“And you’re displaying them in your living room?” he adds, voice full of wonder.

“Hey,” you argue sheepishly, “I’m proud of my work, of our work. And look, …”

You reach around him and pluck one of the albums from the pile. You’ve never been this close to him; your arm is pressed up against his chest, your hair within a few inches of his face. He’s staring at your hair, so close he’d just have to …

Then you hold up a small, shiny piece of cardboard, victory written all over your features.

“I even pulled you!”

It’s a photocard. Of him. Him, with smudged eyeliner, his bangs in his face, holding up a peace sign. You look up at him with the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.

His brain crashes and burns and his hand finds the back of your head and then he’s kissing you; pressing his lips to yours softly, but insistently, a deep sigh fighting its way out of his chest because God he’s wanted this for so, so long.

You make the cutest surprised noise in the back of your throat, but then you melt into his embrace, kissing him back eagerly, your hand wrapping around his wrist where he’s holding on to you, as if to keep him from letting go. When he pulls back, you make a sad little sound in the back of your throat and he swears you could ask him to do anything right then and there and he would do it.

He rests his forehead against yours softly. His breathing is laboured, eyes heavy.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “probably should’ve asked before I did that.”

You chuckle, but still roll your eyes at him.

“I thought I made it clear enough that I like you.”

Chan swears his heart stutters to a halt for a second.

“You … like me,” he breathes out and you pull back in disbelief.

“Yes, of course, I … how was that not obvious?”

Chan shrugs helplessly, his cheeks starting to burn.

“I mean, Changbin told me you did, and Hyunjin also said it sounded like it.”

You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms across your chest.

“So, how many of your members did you ask about this?”

He flushes, but you grin at him. He takes a tentative step closer, his hands finding your wrists and gently uncrossing your arms. His eyes are caught by the image of his fingertips on your skin, the feel of it underneath his.

“Only Changbin and Jisung, and then Changbin involved Hyunjin,” he says, slowly moving your hands to come to rest on his hips. You let him, your palms coming to rest over his hoodie. When he looks up again, your eyes are glued to his lips.

“What else did they say then?”

Chan smiles, leaning forward only enough to rub his nose against yours. He can hear your breath hitch in your throat. His heart is thundering in his chest.

“Hyunjin said I should kiss you and say something profound like ‘I want to deserve you’,” he whispers and he feels you breathe out a laugh against his lips. He wonders if your heart is beating as fast as his.

“Channie,” you breathe out and it makes a shiver run down his spine, “you already deserve me.”

“Fuck,” he rasps out, his hands surging up to cup your face. But he doesn’t kiss you yet. “You’re the best part of my day, do you know that? You’re so … so damn pretty and so fucking hot and so good at what you do and so capable and … fuck, I like you, too, I hope you know that.”

You breathe out another laugh, but something in your face looks like you might cry.

“I was hoping so, yeah,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. He leans forward and ghosts his lips over yours.

“You know what else Hyunjin said?” he murmurs and it’s taking everything in him not to lean in yet. You hum in question.

“That I should make love to you until the sun rises,” he whispers, against your lips, and you whimper. His knees nearly buckle at the sound.

“God, please,” you mumble before you fist your hands into his sweatshirt and pull your body into his, pressing your lips against his hungrily. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth readily. When your tongue swipes over his, blistering electricity shocks down his spine. He kisses you harder, his tongue dipping into your mouth like he’s trying to map out every inch of it, one hand coming to your waist to pull you closer.

He would be embarrassed at the fact that he’s already filling out in his pants, if it wasn’t for the pretty little gasps you keep breathing into his mouth. God, you like him. You like him, too.

His head is swimming with the taste of you on his tongue, his body pressing closer and closer until you hit the edge of the wooden dining table. His foot hits one of the chairs and it nearly topples over, but you catch it before it can fall over. He hesitates only for a second, but it’s enough for you to notice.

“Don’t you dare apologise for that,” you mumble against his lips before you kiss him again, pulling him flush against your body. And you don’t have to tell him twice this time. He wraps one arm around your waist and lifts you onto the table, your legs falling open until he can stand between them. He leans his hands on the table on either side of you, caging you tightly against his body.

“Better?” he growls and you nod deliriously, letting your hands travel under his sweater and over his bare back, before you dig your nails into his skin. A deep groan rips from his throat at the sensation, his hips bucking forward into nothingness. Your hands are shoving his sweater up, desperately running your palms over his skin.

You’re staring at him with fire in your eyes, mumbling a quiet, “off,” and he complies instantly. And he’s used to people staring at him, of course he is, but nobody has ever looked at him the way you do. Like you had no expectations, but like he exceeded every single one of them anyways. Your eyes are roaming every piece of exposed skin, your fingertips coming to trace over his abs.

“How are you real,” you breathe and suddenly, he blushes. He’s standing in front of you half naked, rock hard in his jeans, and his face flushes crimson like he’s a school boy. You smirk at him and pull him closer.

You press a feather-light kiss on his jaw and his eyes flutter shut, his hands falling to the thighs he’d been staring at for the better part of 5 months. They feel so much better under his hands than he could’ve ever imagined, so plush and thick, he wants to feel them wrapped around his fucking head for hours. You keep kissing down his neck torturously slowly, sucking a deep mark into the skin right above his collarbone, and he thinks like he’ll go insane.

He threads his fingers into the hair on the back of your neck and tugs you backwards, your head following the motion readily, a little gasp falling from your lips. He kisses you again, with everything he has. But you pull back with a desperate little moan that makes his cock twitch in his sweats.

“Take me to my bedroom,” you breathe out and he smiles at you, scooping you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist effortlessly. You press messy little kisses all over his cheeks and temples, giggling slightly as he makes his way down the hallway and through the half-open door of your bedroom.

But before he can throw you onto the bed, you untangle your legs and jump from his arms, pulling him down into your lips again and turning him around, pressing your hands into his chest and walking him to the edge of your bed, forcing him to sit down. You bend down to press a few more kisses to his lips before you sink to your knees.

Oh fuck.

You stare up at him, eyes wide, lips slick and slightly parted, and the view itself makes him lightheaded. He barely thought he deserved you earlier today and now you were on your knees in front of him, looking at him like you were ready to give him whatever he asked for. You rake your nails up his thighs and he shudders out a breath when your fingers reach his waistband.

“You … you don’t have to,” he stutters out, though his cock visibly twitches in his pants. Traitor.

You stare at him steadily as you push your fingertips underneath his waistband. He leans back, supporting himself with his arms behind him, his fingers fisted into the sheets.

“I need you to stop doing that,” you say, your face serious. He gulps, but you continue before he can ask you what you mean, “stop telling me what you do and don’t deserve. I’m on my knees in front of you because I think you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life and I want you to absolutely ruin me.”

He blinks at you, unable to form a coherent sentence, as you slowly pull at his waistband. So instead, he just lifts his hips to let you pull down his sweats and boxers. When his cock finally springs free, he hisses, watching you as your eyes dip down.

“Fuck, you’re big, Channie,” you breathe and lick your lips. Chan thinks he won’t survive you. “And so beautiful. Such a beautiful cock on a beautiful man.”

With those words, you press a hot kiss to the inside of his thigh, dragging your lips across his skin. You accidentally bump is cock with your soft cheek and he whines. Whether from the touch or from your works, he doesn’t know at this point. You chuckle.

But you seem to have mercy on him because you don’t tease, dragging your lips up his shaft sweetly. Chan’s pretty sure it’s the softest thing he’s ever felt, but then your tongue peeks out of your mouth and licks at him and he has to correct himself because holy shit.

Your hands are on his thighs, massaging his skin when your lips loosely wrap around the tip of his cock. Your tongue swipes over his slit, humming at the taste of his precum, and then you sink him into your mouth, bobbing your head slowly, intentionally, swirling your tongue around his base. When you look up at him, it’s like the breath has been punched out of him. Your lips are stretched around him, a trail of saliva running down your chin, your make-up smudged around your eyes. It’s better than any of the wet dreams he’s had about you, and he’s had many.

“Fuuuuck”, he breathes out and you hum around his cock.

You shuffle a little closer and then the hand that was holding him comes down to his balls, running lithe fingers over the velvety skin as you sink him further into your mouth until he hits your throat and you gag around him slightly.

The pleasure is overwhelming, every slide of your mouth so fucking perfect on his sensitive cock, and when your throat constricts around him, his hips jump before he can control himself.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, breathing a ragged whimper as he tries to get his breathing under control.

Suddenly, you pull away from him. He flinches at the sudden loss of contact, your spit rapidly cooling on his cock.

“Channie,” you purr out, and his eyes immediately flicker to yours, like he never had a choice, “I want you to fuck my throat.”

Chan blinks at you. Surely, you didn’t just say that.

“Huh?”

You roll your eyes.

“I want you to fuck my throat. I want you to wrap your hand into my hair and tug me down onto your cock. And I want you to cum in my mouth.”

There’s a solid beat where he tries to figure out if you’re serious, but your words are echoing through his head. Stop telling me what you do and don’t deserve. And you’re staring up at him with so much desire, he wants to eat you whole.

So, carefully, he nods, mumbling something about pinching his thigh if it gets too much, before he gingerly unclenches his hand from the sheets and brings it to your face. He takes his time, lets his fingertips caress down your cheekbones, over the soft skin of your cheeks until they’re cupping your jaw. Delicately, he guides you forward, back to his cock, and you smile prettily before you wrap your lips around his head, tonguing at him in a way that that forces a moan from him. The sheer pleasure of it melts some of his hesitation, and he lets his fingers trail into your hair, running through it gently before he sinks his fingers into it and gets a good grip.

He starts slow, bobbing you up and down shallowly, the wet heat of your mouth already better than anything he’s ever felt. Then he pulls you down further, his grip on your head tightening, and the way you choke out a moan at the feeling is all the confirmation he needs. So he lets go a little bit, making you take him deeper and deeper with every subsequent slide of your mouth, and your throat opens around him readily. Then, all at once, he’s so deep that your nose bumps into his pubic hair and he’s pretty sure he’s seeing God because he has never in his life felt anything like it. He watches you, your pretty eyes fluttered shut, your nails digging into his thighs as he drags you up and down, and the image alone makes him hurtle toward his release. He can feel himself throbbing in your mouth.

“Oh, baby, baby,” he pants out, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure, “I’m gonna … I have to … oh God if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth stop me now.”

But you just hum lapping your tongue along the underside of his cock and that does it, his vision whites out as pleasure explodes in his abdomen, shuddering through his body until he can feel it in his toes. He’s cradling your head, his hips canting up ever so slightly with every wave of cum he shoots down your throat and he feels like it’s never-ending.

When he’s spent, he collapses backwards, falling against the sheets, breathless. He distantly registers you, gently unthreading his fingers from your hair and getting up before the bed dips and you crawl over him.

You look like an angel, looking down at him with a satisfied smile, even if your lips are red raw and your make-up is runny. A debauched angel. His debauched angel.

He smiles back at you before he pulls you into his lips, tasting himself when he swipes his tongue across yours. When his hands find your waist, he mewls out.

“How are you still dressed,” he complains, one hand coming to hide his face, “I can’t believe you did all of that while you’re still dressed.”

You giggle into his lips endearingly, but he flips you over until he’s hovering over you, caging you against the mattress with his elbows on either side of your head.

“Let me undress you, beautiful,” he whispers and presses a soft kiss to your lips and you just nod, eyes wide and wet.

And he does, lets his big hands finally push underneath the softness of your sweater until he can feel the unbelievably softer skin of your stomach, feeling every inch of your plush waist, squeezing and caressing to his heart’s content before he rucks the sweater up and over your head. He makes quick work of your bra, sliding it off you with a heady groan, his lips immediately pressing kisses from your collarbone to your tits, mouthing at the supple skin. When his lips wrap around your nipple, your back arches off the bed so sinfully, his cock twitches again already.

He hums as he continues to lap at your nipple, switching from one to the other, using his free hand to roll them between his thumb and pointer finger.

“P-please,” you breathe out and it makes his head spin, the airy quality of your voice like he’s never heard it before. He wants to draw every single sound out of you and he wants to catalogue them all. So he trails his kisses down your sternum, down the expanse of your belly, nuzzling his nose into the skin underneath your belly button with a hum as he works open the button of your jeans.

He gets up enough to pull your jeans and panties off you in one fluid motion, hooking his hands underneath your knees to pull you to the edge of the bed. Now he sinks to his knees and it feels almost reverent. He doesn’t care about the way his knees dig into the plush carpet because his eyes are glued to where your core is on display for him, beautiful and glistening. He hoists one of your legs over his shoulder, then the other, nuzzling the skin of your thighs with a deep sigh. Finally. But he can smell your arousal now and it’s so sweet and addicting that the kisses he places on the inside of your thighs more resemble a wet drag of his lips than anything else.

With the first lick to your folds and the first sweet moan he drags from your lips, his hand shoots down to squeeze his cock because he’s already hard again and_fuck_ you sound good and you taste even better, so sweet and tart and heady.

He leans into gathering the wetness from your entrance, swirling his tongue up to your clit and rubbing at it until your knuckles turn white on the sheets and only then does he let himself dip down and into your entrance, his tongue rubbing over the sensitive skin. You whimper and reach your hand out for him. When he sees you hesitate, he reaches out, interlacing his fingers with yours slowly and deliberately, as he laps at you. You blink down at him and you look so sweet and wrecked and so vulnerable, it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before. It’s so unlike your professional demeanour at work, yet it’s so much more like you. It suits you. He dips his tongue into your hole, sweet wetness exploding on his tastebuds as you mewl.

“Channie,” you breathe out and he fists his cock loosely.

“What, baby?” he mumbles against your folds and moves back to rub your clit with his tongue. Your hips jump off the sheets and he brings your interlaced fingers to rest on your belly, pressing you down.

“P-please, touch me,” you whimper out, and Chan presses his tongue harder against you for a second, revelling in the way your body responds to him immediately.

“I’m touching you, baby,” he hums. When he looks up, you’re pouting and he can’t believe how fucking cute you look.

“I wan’ … wanna be full,” you whine out, and Chan’s eyes roll into the back of his head. He lets go of his cock and slowly traces one of his fingers through your folds.

“Want me to stuff you with my fingers, baby?” he asks and chuckles when you shake your head frantically.

“Wan’ your cock,” you mumble and open your eyes, the big watery depths of them making Chan questions everything he’s ever known. He haphazardly wipes his mouth on the sheets before he moves up your body, lifting you up the sheets with an arm around your waist until your pretty head is cushioned on the pillows. You look so ethereal like this, he wants to worship you and ruin you. Yes, both. He grips you by the chin, letting his eyes roam over your features, taking one more second to revel in the fact that he has you under him. Then he kisses you deep and dirty, hard grip on your chin as he forces you to take it. He can’t resist it, and he slides one finger into your wet warm entrance, entranced by the way you flutter around him, your hands flying to his shoulders as you curse out.

“Fuck, I want your cock,” you curse out, head tipping back when Chan adds another finger.

“You think you’re ready for that, baby?” he questions, head dipping down to nip at the skin of your neck as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

You nod frantically.

“‘M so ready. Please, Channie, I want you to stretch me open really slowly, so all I can feel is you,” you breathe out and Chan is glad his face is buried in your neck because he’s pretty sure his eyes just rolled into the back of his head “I want it to slide in real slow until I’m full.”

Chan pulls his fingers from you so abruptly it makes you sigh disappointedly. He grasps himself and spreads your slick along his shaft as he strokes his cock, dragging the head of it through your folds. Next time he will make you wait, draw more of these filthy words out of your mouth, make you cum on his tongue and on his fingers until the only thing you can say is his name; but today he’s not strong enough to resist you any longer, not when you’re begging like this.

He pulls his head back and looks into your eyes.

“You have a filthy mouth,” he mumbles, watches your eyes crinkle with a smile.

“Do you love it?” you ask coquettishly and he grins as he presses the head of his cock into your entrance.

“I love it, baby,” he mumbles as he pushes in slowly, almost breathless with how your walls are sucking him in almost by themselves, enveloping his aching cock in velvety heat. “I love your filthy fucking mouth_oh my gooooood_.”

Whatever he means to say is lost when you cross your legs behind his back and slowly pull him into you, your heat enveloping him slowly but all at once and it’s so tight and so hot. If you hadn’t already given him an earth-shattering orgasm earlier, he’s pretty sure he would be fighting tooth and nail not to cum right now.

He sits up a little bit and rocks into you gently and you whimper, quietly, brokenly, and he’s consumed by how much he wants you. He laces his fingers with yours again and pins your hand up and over your head, his other hand coming to your hip to hold you in place.

Everything around him melts away, any thoughts of his members or his work or the traffic outside the window, it all vanishes when he locks eyes with you, his own shimmering desire mirrored in yours, and rolls his hips.

“So good,” you breathe out and he dips his head down to kiss you, deep and lingering, as he grinds into you.

Much like everything else with you, this feels easy. He pulls out and pushes back in slowly, builds momentum gradually, wanting to taste every inch of you until the pleasure is prickling under his skin and he thinks he might go insane if he doesn’t get more friction, just how he likes it – and you’re underneath him, smiling as you moan, your eyes screwed shut as you rock your hips to meet his.

It’s like there’s something tying you to him, aligning you on a level that he can’t comprehend just yet. And when he picks up his pace, rutting into you harder, you take that, too, the nails of your free hand raking down his abs as his hand tightens on your hips, holding you down against the mattress with ease. He adds a little experimental tilt of his hips at the end of his stroke and oh, you clench around him with a heady moan, another wave of wetness coating his cock and making the slide even wetter.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, slightly breathless with the motions of his hips, the words falling from his lips before he can keep them in.

You chuckle, the sound of it interrupted with a heady little moan. “Says you,” you tease him and he just … laughs, throws his head back and laughs, happiness spreading through his entire body. How are you making him laugh, and this is still the hottest sex he’s ever had.

He lets go of your hip and lets himself fall forward, his body folding over you, his sweaty chest pressed to yours. He feels the drag of your nipples against his chest as he fucks into you harder, and the pleasure makes his toes curl.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he pants out and presses a kiss to your parted lips, “ever since you walked into the studio on the first day, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Your hands are digging into his shoulders and he picks up his pace even more, his head falling into the crook of your neck. He inhales, the familiar smell of your perfume mixing with the entirely new smell of your body and creating something so intoxicating he never wants to lift his head again. He runs his tongue over your neck and it’s like a drug, his hand falling from yours over your head and cupping the side of your neck tightly, pulling you impossibly closer against him, as he pistons his cock into you faster, his balls tightening with how close he’s getting to his release.

He sucks on the skin of your neck, letting his teeth graze over your pulse and he can feel your walls flutter around him, tightening more with every single one of his thrusts. He knows you’re close and he winds his hand down to touch your clit, but you stop him, bringing his hand back to your throat, but to the front this time. He pulls back to look at you, and the image of his fingers wrapped around your throat burns itself into his head.

“I wanna cum like this,” you mumble and he groans in disbelief.

“How are you real?” he echoes your earlier sentiment and you huff out half a laugh that’s interrupted by your eyes rolling into the back of your head when Chan angles his hips up slightly and tightens his fingers around the side of your throat.

“God, fuck, look at you,” he pants out, nearly delirious with how you’re clenching and gushing around him so hard now. He can taste your orgasm and his is nipping on his heels close behind. Your hand comes to his wrist and then your back arches, a long moan of his name tearing from your chest as you cum around him. Your hips rock back into him wantonly as you cum and your cunt squeezes his cock tightly as you fuck yourself onto him, and that’s what makes all his careful self-control turn to dust. You rip an orgasm so visceral from his body that he doubles over, shoving himself as deep into you as he can when he cums, his thighs trembling helplessly as he fills you up.

He’s still breathless when he pulls back, cupping your face in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I’m so fucking in love with you. Let me take you out to lunch tomorrow before we record,” he says, and it’s like he has never felt surer of anything in his life, all his usual hesitation crumpled up somewhere on the floor of your bedroom, discarded with his sweatpants.

You smile up at him, wider than he’s ever seen it before.

“I’m so fucking in love with you, too. Please take me out to lunch tomorrow,” you repeat, and Chan lets all the happiness bubble up until his cheeks are dimpled, and his eyes are crinkling with a smile.

He doesn’t go home that night, only checks his phone and sees Changbin telling the group chat that he’s probably boning his new girlfriend. He sends a text to tell them he’s alright and will meet them at the studio tomorrow.

You order dinner, make love again and fall asleep with your legs tangled under the sheets, kissing, talking about everything under the sun. Chan feels like his whole life has led up to this day, when he realizes that everything with you is easy. It feels like home.

And when you walk into the studio after your lunch date the next day, all of his members fall silent and stare at you expectantly. Chan catches your eyes and there’s a silent, amused agreement. He just walks over to his seat and pulls out his laptop and asks them if they’re ready to start.

But Changbin gasps out loud and cheers when Chan’s hand finds your thigh under the table half an hour later. Chan blushes and his eyes snap up to yours immediately, finding you grinning at him with so much fondness in your eyes, he wants to pull you into his lap and kiss you for all the world to see. Instead, he squeezes your leg, giddiness in his chest at the fact that he can do this now. This is the beginning of something new.

skzms' masterlist // ko-fi

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