Only Fools Fall For You | Hyunjin Sm Au

only fools fall for you | hyunjin sm au

synopsis:

you’re excited to finally get a new start at university, majoring in the thing you love the most; dancing, and you’re positive that absolutely nothing can ruin the quintessential college experience for you.

that is, until you run into your lifelong rival, hwang hyunjin and to make things worse…you can’t seem to get rid of him.

pairing: dancer! hyunjin x dancer! reader

fic type: social media au + written parts

genre: college au, angst, enemies to lovers, smut, mature content, friends with benefits, some fluff, slowburn (!)

status: complete

if you’d like to support me and my writing, you can buy me a coffee here! thank you so much.

masterlist:

playlist

yns squad

hyunjins squad

1. a fresh start

2. not a cat, minho

3. i need new friends

4. number one fan

5. a hopefully hot boy

6. bane of my existence

7. i blame felix

8. a beautiful dancer

9. did you just defend hyunjin

10. be more passionate

11. the enemy you know

12. should i be offended

13. is this even legal

14. the bar is so low

15. not a bad kisser

16. ready, ready baby

17. the morning after

18. what happened last night

19. showstopping

20. being sick

21. im gonna kill him

22. a pretty face

23. dramatic entrance

24. distracted

25. communication can help

26. the world would be a better place

27. get back at him

28. what i want

29. nothing to hide

30. you’ve matured

31. beautiful face but a terrible personality

32. one and done

33. you sound whipped

34. i want you to

35. does this make up for it

36. don’t say no

37. play with fire

38. weather forecast, wet

39. more important than ramen

40. you up?

41. not fighting anymore

42. english lit can wait

43. am i allowed to kiss you

44. red lights

45. the view

46. corn dogs

47. chaeprincess

48. i hate people

49. looking out for hyunjin

50. talk to yeji

51. how can you be sure ?

52. happy birthday han

53. everything okay ?

54. what happened in high school

55. happy for you

56. safe space

57. what’s kkami

58. yeji knows

59. moving on

60. you need to get out

61. unforgettable night

62. daisy

63. hatred is a strong word

64. not afraid to show it

65. hopeless romantic

66. not your business

67. have faith

68. little star

69. epilogue part 1 : the world is a better place

70. epilogue part 2: look where that got us

so ya girl read over on ao3 and i figured i'd just add my thoughts and keysmashes here

Herbie (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Mechanic!Chan x F.Reader Themes: Smut | Some Fluff | Strangers to Friends to Lovers Word Count: ~10k | AO3 Synopsis: Chris was the best mechanic you’d ever met. He was good at his craft, capable of bringing your dingy car back to life time and time again. He was, also, excellent at riling you up just by existing, which wasn’t the best when you were absolutely convinced he just wanted to be friends with you. But maybe, just maybe, he’d prove you wrong. [You can find part two here]. Warnings: curvy/chubby reader · reader is clueless · personification of an inanimate object (the car is referred to by name and male pronouns sometimes) · improper use of car related vocabulary probably (author is clueless on the topic, they don’t even know how to drive) · discussions of weight and usage of the word fat (in a very neutral manner) · Christopher is Stronk · special guest appearance: Jisung.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Author’s Note: mechanic!chan was suggested by an “anon” (👀), after they watched this performance, and i felt inspired by the suggestion, so i decided to write a little something for it. a little something that somehow managed to gather more words than i ever expected, as usual. anyway, hope it doesn’t disappoint :^)

fun fact: i dreamt once that i wrote a fic called herbie, so i guess the prophecy has been fulfilled now.

Smut Warnings: the reader has an oral fixation · the reader has sexually charged thoughts (i can’t blame her) · pet names (baby, babe, gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, etc) · lots of praising (it’s a staple in my chan fics at this point, oops) · praise kink · strength kink if you squint? · oral [M&F.Rec] · deepthroating/mouth fucking · protected penetration [piv].

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Christopher Bang. 

The man who’d saved your ass countless times in the past handful of months. The man who’d been plaguing your thoughts since the very first moment you entered his repair shop.

And to think it was your older brother’s fault. ‘Get a second-hand car’, he said. ‘It’s cheap and super reliable’, he said. ‘Yes, of course it’ll be fine’, he said. Your brother was, ultimately, full of bullshit. You’d never trust his opinion ever again.

Getting a second-hand car was quite possibly the worst financial decision you’d ever taken.

At first you’d been incredibly excited. You even named it Herbie, after the famous car that was… Well, called Herbie. 

With Herbie, you’d be able to get to work faster, you’d no longer have to stay in uncomfortable social situations just because you were waiting for your ride for the night to take you home, you’d no longer have to balance grocery bags on your tiny bicycle, you’d be independent. 

For two months, you were living your best life with Herbie. But then he started showing The Signs.

It started with the AC not turning on, then, the wipers wouldn’t wipe, until eventually, he shut down completely. Which wouldn’t have been so bad, had it not happened while you were driving on the fucking highway. To say you were pissed was an understatement. That day, when that happened, you were fortunate enough to be with your friend, Jisung. 

Not only did Jisung calm your fit of rage, but he also told you he had a friend who fixed cars for a living. ‘He’s very reliable. He won’t overcharge you, really. I vouch for him, trust him with my life at this point’, which, honestly, finding a mechanic these days that wasn’t trying to find problems that weren’t there to overcharge you was hard, so you took Jisung’s advice and took Herbie to Wolfgang: Repair Shop.

That was where you saw Chris the first time.

You could still remember the exact moment your eyes landed on him. Although, to be fair, the first thing you saw were his boots peeking out from below a car.

“Hello?” You heard a thud after you greeted the pair of legs, followed by a very graceful ‘fuck!’.

“Just one second!” He slid from under the car, and when he stood from the creeper, you honestly weren’t prepared.

Broad shoulders, strong, defined arms, a mess of curls on his head, plush, pink lips, and that nose. Jisung had forgotten to give you the most important detail about his friend, the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous. Even with the oil coating his exposed arms, hands, and the smudge on his cheek, he was probably one of the finest specimens you’d ever seen.

“Can I help you?” He smiled, and God, he had dimples, too. Of fucking course he had to have dimples…

“I’m–I–” You were embarrassing yourself, barely even capable of forming a coherent sentence, all as he looked at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. So you got your bearings, taking a deep breath. “My car keeps dying on me. I’m a friend of Jisung’s, he told me to come to you”.

“Oh!” His eyes widened and he honestly looked beyond surprised. “You are Jisung’s friend?” There was a slight tone of disbelief in his voice, and the way he looked you up and down honestly confused you a bit. Was there a problem with your outfit? It was a bit warm out and this was a nice, comfortable dress… Maybe you were supposed to wear something different to a car repair shop? Maybe it was one of those social rules no one talked about but you were supposed to just know they existed. 

Regardless, you decided to ignore the thought altogether, because he started talking again. “I’m Chris. I’d offer my hand, but I don’t think you’d like to get yours covered in motor oil”, he chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag that hung from his belt, and it genuinely made you smile. “C’mon, let’s take a look at your car and see what we can do. Hm?”

That was how it all started. Chris was polite, he certainly knew his way around these things, and every time you had a problem with Herbie you went to his shop. At some point, you became well acquainted with him, it was impossible not to when Herbie kept dying practically every other week, and when Chris was just so friendly.

You enjoyed spending time at the shop with him, and sometimes you wondered if you were being weird or annoying by staying a bit longer than any customer probably would, but Chris seemed to be just as engaged in the conversation as you were every time, so that spark of doubt in you always died very quickly. 

After a couple of months, Chris simply handed you a piece of paper. ‘Here’s my number. Text me whenever you need’.

And you did. Although, you took a while to text him. You finally did it only because Herbie had started to leak water; after all, that was what he had given you his number for. But it seemed like after that Chris and you just… Started to talk about other things, completely unrelated to Herbie.

“You slut, who you texting with that smile on your face? Did you finally get yourself a man?” Jisung teased you one day when you were hanging out with him, supposedly watching movies.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “As if. You know the only thing I attract are mosquitoes, and it’s only because they want to suck my blood. It’s just Chris. He sent me this funny video of Wolfgang, wanna see?”

Wolfgang was Chris’ dog, an overly excited husky that seemed to be a walking disaster. You told Chris once in passing that you liked dogs, that it cheered you up whenever you saw them do their Dog Things, and since then he started to send you pictures or videos of his dog regularly, which you highly appreciated, they did bring up your mood every time.

Jisung blinked at you. “Christopher Bang? My friend Chris?”

“Yeah? Which other Chris do we both know?” You returned your eyes to your phone, chuckling at a meme Chris had just sent you.

“What’s he sending you? Lemme see”, Jisung grabbed your phone out of your hands, ignoring your protests altogether. “Huh… Would you look at that…”

“Why are you scrolling? Stop that, it’s a private conversation”, you lunged at your friend, trying to get the phone out of his hands. After a bit of jostling he finally relented, and you huffed as you diverted your attention back to the chat with Chris.

Jisung called your name, and you looked up from your phone to your friend, seeing his confused face. “You… You do know he’s flirting with you, right?”

“What?” You laughed at that. “Don’t be ridiculous”.

“I’m being serious”, Jisung turned to face you fully on the sofa, looking at your face very intently. He was quiet for a moment, but then he was gasping–rather dramatically, if you might add. “Oh my God! You haven’t noticed!”

“There’s nothing to notice, Jisung. Chris isn’t flirting with me, don’t be silly”, you chuckled just at the thought. As if the Christopher Bang would be flirting with you.

“You seriously can’t be this dense”, Jisung scoffed, turning back to the movie. “You do you, then. I’m telling you, though. He’s one hundred percent flirting with you”.

How ludicrous. Chris had shown zero interest in you for as long as you’d known him. You were sure he only saw you as a friend at best, and that was only because you were on ‘sending memes’ basis now, before you were just his customer with the dingy car that kept needing repairs. 

You’d admit, though, that after a handful of months, Chris had become a really close friend. He’d text you every morning without fail. Most of the time, he’d send you a picture while he was walking his dog. It could be a picture of Wolfgang, or a picture of the sunrise, or a selfie–those were the hardest ones to look at, to be honest. 

At some point, you realised you had developed a crush on him, and looking at his face in those selfies, still a bit swollen with sleep, with his hair a bit tousled, or with a beanie over his head covering his eyebrows, looking incredibly cuddly, wasn’t helping you cope much.

Sometimes he’d text you while he was in the gym, too. Which would’ve been fine, had he not also started to send you selfies when he was there. They were never anything too revealing, he’d always be fully clothed, but the sight of his reddened hands, his bulging veins after lifting, his flushed face, and just overall sweaty form was just something you didn’t need. It always heated you up, made you suddenly feel like your mouth was just too empty, it’d made your mind wander into very dangerous, and very horny territory. 

It was already hard enough to watch Chris work on Herbie. Whenever he did and you were at the shop, you’d start to fixate on the way the muscles of his exposed arms moved, or how his ass looked when he was bending over the motor to do whichever magic he needed to do, it always made you wonder if he’d be able to perform that magic on you, if his hands would touch you as delicately but as precisely as they did with Herbie’s components, or how it’d be like if you were the one bending over the bonnet, preferably with him just right behind you… Regardless, seeing him also at the gym through his pictures was just too much. He’d sometimes ask you weird questions while he was there, too, which always left you a bit confused.

‘mind if i ask what’s your weight? you dont have to tell me if you dont want to, i’m just curious. i’m trying to bulk up, you see. mine’s…’ You didn’t particularly have a problem with the question itself, you just found it odd that he asked you that out of the blue, and for a brief moment you wondered if he’d been trying to say you were fat–which wouldn’t have been the first time that happened to you, having lived most of your life as person with extra fat on their body for what was considered ideal in this society’s standards had already numbed you to questions like these.

You hadn’t told him right away, you simply sent him a ‘why? are you gonna tell me to lose weight? lol’ to which he replied a string of messages in quick succession ‘oh god no. far from that, you’re perfect just as you are honestly. i’m just curious cuz i want to get to…’ He’d go on about his goals and what-not, and you decided to humour him, since it genuinely didn’t seem like he was trying to make fun of you, he actually never brought up the topic again after that.

Chris wasn’t just handsome, he was also cute, and a bit of a dork. A dork with extensive knowledge in cars and each of their components, but with even more extensive knowledge in pokemon and each and every single type.

‘Ice is strong against dragon and ground, you see? So I have to fight this Garchomp with a pokemon that can do ice attacks, but that can also withstand his attacks, like Gyarados, you know?’ The first time Chris pulled an explanation like that, while he was still covered in Herbie’s oil, you understood why he was friends with Jisung. They were both just dorks. Gym rats and dorks. The oddest combination you could possibly think of, but somehow it just added to their charm. To Chris’ charm specifically.

That balance of his technical knowledge, his hotness, and his dorkness, coupled with just how good of a person he genuinely was–always willing to help, always ready to stand his ground for things he believed in–only made you fall stupidly deeper for him. But you decided to keep these feelings to yourself, you liked having Chris by your side, not only because he was the only one who seemed to be able to bring Herbie back to life, but also because he was just a good friend, and you were sure that if you confessed your feelings things just wouldn’t be the same.

Taking Herbie out these days was always a gamble. You never knew when he was going to break down, but sometimes you really had to take a leap of faith. Most of the time it all went fine, but today, it seemed like he wasn’t in a mood to cooperate. Herbie had decided that breaking down in the middle of nowhere at twenty hours on a Friday was the best idea, which left you on the brink of frustrated, angry tears. 

So, obviously, you called the only person you knew could help you in this situation.

“You alright?” Chris asked as soon as he arrived and stood in front of where you were leaning on your car. “Oh, God. Are you crying? Why are you crying?”

“I’m just so fucking done with this car”, you brought your hands to your face, sobbing once the frustration that had built inside of you couldn’t be contained anymore.

“Hey…” You felt Chris’ body heat practically envelop you when he moved into your space, and, had you not been crying like a baby, you’d probably feel a bit flustered about it. “Are you– Can I– Do you want a hug?”

You just nodded–still covering your face with your hands–because of course you wanted a hug. You were trembling with your quiet sobs, so a hug sounded like absolute heaven at this moment, and when Chris finally leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you to him, the fact that Herbie had left you stranded in the middle of nowhere seemed so insignificant now.

Chris was so incredibly warm. The way he softly caressed your back helped ease your trembles, and, eventually, the tears stopped, too. So you finally moved your hands away from your face, bringing your arms around his waist to hug him as well, just as you buried your face on his shoulder–probably leaving small puddles of tears on the fabric of his boilersuit.

That was when you noticed his attire. Similar to how he dressed when he was at the shop, but clearly completely clean. His boilersuit even smelt like his fabric softener still, and… Was he wearing perfume?

You pulled yourself a bit from him, and his calloused hands cradled your face immediately to wipe your tears with his thumbs. You could feel heat spread on your cheeks as he did.

Chris was so close to you still, the heat of his palm on your cheeks seeped into you, shooting straight to your fluttering heart. He truly was incredibly handsome, and as you looked him in the eyes the words left your mouth before you could even think twice about them.

“Wow. Your eyelashes are so pretty”.

A look of surprise crossed Chris’ features, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob, right before he pulled his hands away from your face and opened the driver’s door of your car, giggling. Giggling in that utterly Christopher way he always did.

“Well, yours are, too”, he said while he pulled the lever near the wheel to release the safety latch so he could open the bonnet of your car.

For a moment, you could’ve sworn his ears were red, and you wondered briefly if he might’ve been feeling warm with his boilersuit on, since it was warm tonight, which was why you had decided to wear a dress in the first place. “Were you at the shop when I called?”

“Was on my way”, Chris rounded your car, finally standing in front of it and opening the bonnet. “Ahh, Herbie. You’d certainly seen better days, haven’t you, buddy?” He took his phone from his pocket, switched on the torch, and handed it to you. “Could you hold this for me? Please?”

“Why were you going to the shop this late?” You asked as you pointed the light towards Herbie’s insides.

“Was gonna work on the bike. Angle this a bit, please”, Chris took your hand, angling it however he needed it so he could see whatever it was he needed to see–for you he might as well had been doing dark magic on your car. You saw him push cables around like he knew what each of them was for, which he surely did, this was his livelihood, after all, but it all just looked the same to you, so you were immensely relieved that he was able to help you out tonight.

“You fix cars all day and still have the drive to work on your bike in the evening?” You chuckled, just as Chris moved your hand to point the light somewhere else.

“You’d be surprised how much drive I can have when I’m doing something I like”, there was a smile on his face as he said it, and honestly you couldn’t help but believe him. Just like you couldn’t help but wonder what else he could like that’d fuel that drive of his… “Alright, we’re gonna have to jumpstart it. Gimme a sec”.

Chris left your side for a moment, and he returned almost immediately after with a jumper cable in his hands. Once he had attached it to his 4X4’s and Herbie’s battery, he instructed you to go back to the driver’s seat and to turn the ignition at his signal.

You did as asked, and as soon as you did Herbie came back to life, making you heave a sigh of relief. Chris appeared by your door a few seconds after. “Let’s go to the shop, yeah? I don’t think he’ll make it much further, to be honest”.

And honestly, you didn’t think your car would make it far, either. So you followed Chris’ 4X4 out of the area and through the familiar roads to his repair shop. You couldn’t help but feel immensely grateful, not only because he was helping you now, but because he always did it. Whenever you’d needed him, he’d always been there, which did nothing to appease the ever growing feelings you had for him.

When you made it to Chris’ shop, he simply opened the gate to the garage and signalled you to come in. You got off your car as soon as it was parked, just as Chris was unzipping his boilersuit, revealing his black vest top underneath and his admittedly mouthwatering arms as he tied the top part of the garment around his waist.

“Thank you, Chris. Really”, you told him as soon as he stood in front of you, handing him Herbie’s keys when he opened his palm.

“Oh, please”, he waved his hand as if to dismiss the thought, as if what he did was something not even worth thanking him for. “I’m glad you called, I would’ve felt really bad if I couldn’t have helped you with this”, he gave you a smile, one of his blinding smiles that made his dimples appear on his cheeks and his eyes disappear, and you suddenly felt your cheeks warm up and like your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

Chris made sure to place a wedge behind each of Herbie’s wheels just so the car was secure in place, and then turned to you. “Come with me”.

He guided you to the sink by the corner of the shop. Pumping some soap into his hands and opening the tap, he started to generously lather the suds all over his hands. 

“Come here, you need to wash your hands, too”, Chris took your hands in his, getting them all soapy, making sure to spread the soap between each of your fingers, going as far as to rub your hands between his, or lace his fingers with yours to fulfil the task.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Chris, I didn’t touch anything”.

“You sure?” He chuckled, but his motions didn’t stop. “It’s better to be safe than sorry, no?”

“I guess”, you didn’t think your cheeks could’ve felt any hotter. You seriously hoped it wasn’t that noticeable.

After thoroughly rinsing your hands under the tap, he gave you a clean rag to dry them on just as he motioned for you to follow him again. So you did, walking past his half restored bike and into his office.

Chris placed Herbie’s keys on the designated case that corresponded to the number in which you had parked your car, and then turned to the minifridge. “You want a soda?”

“Sure”, you took the glass bottle from him as soon as he opened it and handed it to you. You always found it odd that he had glass bottles and not cans, considering how little space he had in that fridge. When you asked him about it once Chris simply went on about how ‘cans just don’t taste the same! The soda tastes so much better when it’s drunk from a bottle’, and as soon as he said that you just couldn’t untaste it anymore. Glass bottles were, ultimately, superior.

“‘Suppose I’ll get an uber”, you sighed after you took a sip of your drink, walking a bit so you could lean against the wall.

“An uber? Nonsense, I’ll drive you home, don’t worry”, Chris took a sip of his drink, just as he leaned on his desk.

“Aw, c’mon. You already went out of your way to rescue me. I don’t wanna take more of your time”.

Chris scoffed. “Don’t make me beg”.

“I wouldn’t dare”, you chuckled, although you were suddenly curious of what would happen if you did make him beg… “But what about your bike?”

“The bike won’t be ready anytime soon. The only reason I was coming here was because I was restless at home. Now I’d much rather spend some time with you, to be honest”, Chris took a sip of his drink again, and suddenly holding his gaze felt like too much, but the way your eyes decided to focus on his Adam’s apple moving with every sip he took wasn’t that much easier.

“You know…” Chris said after a few moments of silence, pulling your eyes back up from where they had been glued to his neck. “I think it might be time for you to consider letting Herbie go. It’s been months, and I honestly don’t think I can save him”.

You sighed. “I know… But I fear I’ve grown attached to the damned thing. Besides, wouldn’t you lose your most regular customer?” You added the last part with a chuckle, taking a sip of your drink right after.

Chris chuckled. “So you’re saying you only talk to me ‘cause of Herbie?”

You almost choked on your drink. “N–no. Of course not. You’re a good friend, Chris. Truly”. 

He placed his drink on the desk, and a smirk made its way onto his face. “Just a good friend?”

“Uhh… A great friend?” You laughed softly, drinking some more of your soda.

Chris went silent for a moment. As you saw him worry at his bottom lip and looking anywhere but where you were standing, you wondered if you had said something wrong. That was, until he chuckled.

“I don’t think I’m a good friend, to be honest”, he crossed his arms over his chest, bouncing his leg a bit. “Good friends don’t secretly hope for their friend’s car to break down so they’d call them for help”. 

You were just bringing your bottle to your lips, but his words made you stop in your tracks. “What?”

Chris looked at you for a moment. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but then he was tipping his head to the side and laughing. “God, I seriously didn’t believe Jisung at first, but you really are dense for some things, aren’t you?” 

“I am… So confused right now”.

Chris shook his head a bit, and he walked closer to you. “Let me tell you a secret…” He got into your space, close enough that you could smell his perfume, and the proximity made you swallow the saliva that seemed to have suddenly pooled in your mouth. Leaning into you, he brought his mouth to your ear, whispering. “I really, really like you”.

You blinked, and you honestly felt like your brain had short-circuited. “You… What?”

No way was Christopher Bang telling you he liked you. There was just no way. You would’ve noticed… You would’ve, right? You definitely would’ve… Wouldn’t have you noticed?

Suddenly you remembered Jisung. How he’d tried to tell you multiple times throughout the past few months that Chris was flirting with you, that you should shoot your shot, but you honestly had never believed him, because it seemed just so ridiculous to you that Chris could even look at you in that light.

“I’ve, uh… Liked you for a while. A long, long while”, Chris pulled himself away from your space completely, and he looked at your face for a moment. A moment that you stayed completely silent, still trying to process the fact that Chris liked you… And for a while now.

You saw his brows furrow as he chewed on his bottom lip. Then he was speaking again. “I just… Couldn’t keep quiet about it anymore. When we hugged earlier I realised I wanted to do that more, and that I should probably grow a pair and tell you already. I’d like to take you on a date, if you want, but I can understand if you don’t want to…”

He was rambling. A lot. Saying a lot of things. This was the Nervous Chris you’d only seen a couple of times, the Nervous Chris whose coping mechanism was just to jump to conclusions and talk in a single breath. Suddenly, it all seemed to click into place. The good morning texts, the selfies, the late night talks at the shop after Herbie had died on you time and time again, it was so clear to you now.

“If you don’t like me back that’s fine, you can just say so, I won’t take it to hear–”

You kissed him.

It was barely anything. Just a peck on the lips, but it was enough to shut him up, enough to make his eyes go wide in surprise, and, to your own selfish delight, enough to bring a delicate blush to his cheeks.

“I like you, too”, you said simply, still a bit shocked by his confession, a bit shocked by your confession coming out of your own mouth. You honestly never thought you’d be able to say that to him out loud, but you did. Just like he had.

Chris looked stunned for a bit. But that stunned look didn’t last long, it quickly turned to something else, something raw and incredibly alluring. Stepping into your space again, he brought a hand to the back of your head, holding you in place just as his other hand took the bottle from your hands to place it on the tool cart next to you, right as his lips found yours.

This kiss was nothing like the peck you’d given him. It was loaded with need and want and lust. So much of all of it you couldn’t even believe how blind you’d been. Every press of his lips against yours kindled the fire that started to burn in the pit of your stomach. When his hand joined the other cradling your head, you just couldn’t help the small whimper that came out of your mouth, and that tiny noise seemed to have spurred Chris on, enough to press you flush against the wall as his tongue made its way inside your mouth, as your arms wrapped around his waist.

Heat was spreading quickly inside of you, and you were starting to feel lightheaded–whether it was due to the shock, or due to how Chris was pressing you against the wall, or due to the motions of his kiss and the lack of oxygen, you weren’t too sure. One of your hands laid palm flat on the small of his back, while the other pressed between his shoulder blades, and the hum that came out of his mouth seemed to have travelled all the way to your heart, making it beat even faster in your chest.

Chris detached his mouth from yours, only for a moment, enough to talk. “Does this mean…” He pressed another kiss on your lips. “That you’d like…” And another. “To go on a date?” This kiss lasted a bit longer than the others, it lasted until you nodded your head.

“Yes”, you pressed a kiss on his lips, just as your arms moved to loop around his neck and his wrapped around your waist, keeping you impossibly closer to him. “Would love to”.

He hummed again, and he immediately resumed the soft movement of his lips on yours. Keeping you tight against him for a while. Until it seemed like his brain had caught up with him. 

“We should probably stop”, but he didn’t stop kissing you, just like you didn’t, either. You just couldn’t get enough of his full lips on yours, of his tongue pushing against yours.

“Do you want to?” Your fingers made their way through the curls at the back of his head, holding the strands between them just how you’d dreamt to do so many times throughout the past handful of months.

“God, no”, and you believed him, not only because of how desperate he sounded when he said it, but also because he just kept kissing you, talking in between quick pecks of his lips. “But I don’t want… To make it seem… Like this is all I want… You know?”

You knew. You knew because you were thinking exactly the same thing. You could feel him against your pubic bone, hard, warm, and it all made you incredibly wet, maybe embarrassingly so. But this was Chris, it was hard to feel embarrassed with him, which was part of the reason why you had developed feelings for him in the first place.

You hummed, just to let him know that you understood what he was trying to say without removing your lips from his. As you kissed him, as you felt him and his warmth, your mind started to cloud a bit. The mix of his motions, of the months and months of pining for him, and the even more months of self-inflicted celibacy clearly made it so logical thinking wasn’t your strongest attribute at this time.

“Would you still… Take me on a date… If I sucked you off right now?” The words flew past your mouth between kisses, too fast for you to even think twice and stop them.

“Shit…” Chris pulled himself away from your lips completely, looking you in the eyes. As you took in the flush on his face, his plush, kiss-bitten lips, and his blown pupils, you couldn’t help but think just how incredibly beautiful he looked like this. “Are you being serious?”

“Dead serious”, your chest was heaving, and your fingers carded through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails, making Chris bite his lip and take a deep breath.

“Of course I would. I’d take you to the fucking moon even if I got it wet right now”.

You chuckled at that, and pressed a brief kiss on his lips. “A date is enough, babe”.

“Babe, huh?” Chris took a deep breath, just as you pushed him away from you a bit, enough to have space so you could drop to your knees, uncaring of your bare skin touching the floor. All you could care about was the outline of his length against his clothes when you pressed your hand on it.

“Sorry, you don’t like ‘babe’?” You looked up at him, right in the eyes, just as you untied the sleeves of his boilersuit from around his waist.

“I like it a lot, actually”, there was a bit of a smug smirk on his face, and it had you licking your lips.

Just as you were about to pull the bottom of his suit further down, he brought a hand to one of yours, diverting your eyes back up to his. His gaze had softened, and the smile on his face coupled with that look in his eyes made you flush further. “You don’t have to, seriously. Don’t feel obligated to do it”.

“I don’t”, you reassured him. “I want to do it. Badly. But only if you want it, too”.

“Fuck… I do. So bad”, he licked his lips, and he moved his hand away from yours to place it on your head instead. “You’ve got no idea how much, shit…”

So you resumed your motions, tugging his bottoms along with his underwear, enough for his length to spring free of its confinements. You weren’t surprised with the sight, honestly. A pretty face like his surely came with a pretty cock, too. So of fucking course it was pretty, especially so as precum pooled at its tip, especially when it looked just so delectably hard. It was a bit on the girthier side, but nothing too crazy, nothing you couldn’t handle. If anything, it just made your mouth water, and you licked your lips in anticipation.

“Shit…” You took him in your hand, spreading around the bead of precum that had collected on his tip to give him a couple of tentative pumps, making him swear under his breath and bite his bottom lip. “How do you like it?”

“Fuck… Sloppy. Make it as wet as you can, the messier the better”, the words flew past his lips, completely shamelessly, almost as if he didn’t even need to think about them. Chris seemed to be transfixed on the sight of your hand working his length, and you took that opportunity to spit on it, making him groan while you started to coat him in your saliva.

So you delayed no further, dying for a taste, and a taste you got. As soon as your lips wrapped around his tip Chris swore. Loudly. He threw his head back and his fingers seemed to tighten a bit on your head, but he didn’t move you, he let you keep the pace as you saw fit. You started slow, holding him by the base and just bobbing your head for your lips to repeatedly catch on the ridge of his head and for your tongue to rub against the frenulum on the underside, taking him deeper into your mouth with every other stroke.

The moment you opened your eyes and your gaze found his, your inner walls involuntarily clenched around nothing, and suddenly you felt like you needed some relief. But you ultimately decided to keep your focus on Chris, on his lustful gaze, on his furrowed brows, on his gentle hold on your head, and the grunts and groans threatening to come out of his mouth, dampened by the way his teeth trapped his bottom lip.

He wanted it messy and sloppy, so you were ready to give it to him messy and sloppy. It’d been a while since you’d done this, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. With a deep breath, you took him in deeper, breaching past the initial resistance for him to ease into your throat.

“Oh, fuck… You’re kidding… Shit…” Chris threw his head back, letting the most delicious noises out of his mouth, almost making you lightheaded with how aroused his heavy cock in your mouth coupled with his blissed out sounds got you.

You took your time slurping him up, uncaring if saliva dribbled out of your mouth as you worked against your gag reflex, feeling tears quickly collect in the corner of your eyes. When you felt confident enough with your motions, you brought your hand to his that held your head in place, while you placed the other on his hip, holding him tightly. 

“You want me to move, pretty? Fuck your perfect little mouth?” You nodded in response, humming around his length.

Slowly, he started to thrust into your mouth. Chris was being extremely careful, being mindful of every controlled push of his hips, but even with his slow pace, you couldn’t help but moan as soon as he started moving, making him groan in response. That was when you finally gave into your own desires, moving your hand away from his that lay on your head to bring it under your dress so you could press circles on your clit over your underwear, eliciting broken whimpers from your mouth.

“Shit, look at you…” Chris looked fucked out of his mind already, with his heaving chest and the increasing pace of his hips. You were sure you weren’t looking any more collected than he was, especially when you started to feel tears finally fall from the corner of your eyes every time you blinked.

With one particularly precise thrust of his hips, Chris’ length went in further than you were used to, essentially choking you on his cock, making you gag harshly. Chris pulled his length out of your mouth, and you gasped for air immediately.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, so fucking good with that mouth… Come here, beautiful”, Chris helped you to your feet, wrapping his arms around your waist once you were standing on your feet and pressing kisses all over your cheeks. You were still panting a bit, flushed from exertion, but Chris kissed you anyway, and you kissed him back, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. “Need to taste you”, he mumbled between pecks of his lips. “Please, please, please let me eat you out”.

You just nodded, very eagerly if you might add. But you honestly couldn’t find it in you to be embarrassed about it, not when Chris begged so fervently for it. Just the thought of seeing him between your legs had you already clenching with need.

While you kissed, Chris removed his arms from your waist. You felt him fumble with his underwear and his boilersuit, hastily wrapping it around his waist, and before you could even register what he was doing, he was taking a hold of your ass and scooping you into his arms.

“Chris, fuck, wait. I’m heavy as hell”, you were slightly alarmed, but your legs wrapped around his waist for stability anyway just as you held onto his shoulders.

“Heavy?” Chris chuckled, moving towards his desk. “Baby, I can lift almost thrice your weight”.

“You, what?” You asked, a bit confused–and also aroused, because, fuck, how strong was this man…–Chris pushed away some of the items on his desk to sit you on it, close to the edge. After all the revelations that had come to light earlier, it finally dawned on you. “Is that… Why you asked what my weight was all those months ago?”

“Of course! Needed to make sure that if I ever got a chance I was able to do everything I wanted”, he dropped to his knees, starting to press tender kisses up your shins. “Must admit I had to stop whole hip thrusts sets sometimes because I’d get so fucking hard halfway through, fuck”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, a hearty, and slightly incredulous laugh. “Holy shit. I genuinely thought you would tell me I had to lose weight at some point”.

“What? I’d never”, Chris chuckled, bringing his hands to your thighs, squeezing them. “I mean, it’s your body, you can do whatever you want, but know that I find you incredibly attractive however you look”, he moved his hands further up, right under the hem of your dress to finally hook his fingers on the waistband of your underwear. “Can I take these off, gorgeous?”

“Yes”, you giggled, feeling yourself heating up further just by his words and the feeling of his hands on your skin. With your hands on the desk you lifted your hips enough for him to slip the garment down your legs and off of you. He threw your underwear on the desk, and they landed somewhere behind you.

Bringing his hands back to your thighs, Chris rubbed circles with his thumbs for a second, only to finally move them further up, catching the hem of your dress and bringing it with him as he went. You chewed on your bottom lip, feeling a bit nervous all of a sudden. That was, until he finally pushed your legs apart. With the way he swore under his breath and the way his eyes seemed to get impossibly darker as soon as he took sight of your seeping core, any nervousness seemed to have been obliterated, and you couldn’t help but feel just so incredibly wanted.

“Fuck… Even here, huh?” He threw your legs over his shoulders, and you felt yourself heat up in anticipation. “Plump, pretty… Shit…”

Desire pooled in the pit of your stomach, it was honestly almost pathetic how affected you felt just by the things he was saying and the sight of him between your legs.

“You know…” Chris pressed his lips to your inner thigh, sucking harshly, leaving marks on your skin, making you inhale a shaky breath. “This is the exact same dress you were wearing the first time you came into my shop”.

Your eyes widened a bit in surprise. “You remember what I was wearing?”

“Hm, ‘course I do”, he moved his attention back to your eyes, just as he pressed a chaste kiss on your inner thigh. “I’ve been dreaming of you in this fucking dress for months, baby…”

“You have?”

“I have”, one of his hands came to grip your thigh, while the other moved to your hip, giving you a hefty squeeze. “How do you like it, pretty? Or how do you not like it, for that matter?”

You licked your lips, suddenly transfixed by the sight of his lips brushing your skin. “Gentle sucks go a long way. I’m a bit, uh… Sensitive”.

“Sensitive, huh? ‘Course you are… Hold this for me, hm?” He took a hold of your hand and brought it to one of your thighs, just as he spread you open further, propping your foot on the desk. So you did as asked, keeping your legs open as he diverted his attention back to your heat. “Good girl… Just like that…”

As soon as he spread you with two of his fingers, and he dived, landing soft, tentative licks on your clit, you knew you were done for. Your whole body jolted a bit, and a soft whimper escaped your mouth. “Oh, fuck…”

Chris just hummed, moving to lick at your entrance, getting a taste of your essence with his brows pulled together, looking just so fucking delighted. Just the thought that he was genuinely enjoying himself got you moaning a bit louder under the quickening movements of his tongue, and as soon as his lips pressed on your clit, giving you those gentle sucks you had asked for, your mind just disconnected completely.

He took his time working you up, turning you to a whimpering mess just with his lips and his tongue, gradually increasing his tempo to build your upcoming release. Whenever he dipped lower to lick at your entrance, his nose would bump your clit with every movement of his head, he was essentially making out with your cunt and you would gladly let him do whatever and however he wanted. Your nerve endings were on fire, your toes curled with need, and your walls clenched with his unrelenting pace.

When he detached his mouth from your core you almost wanted to cry, but he only did it for a second, enough to ask a “Fingers, baby?” only to press his lips to your sensitive skin again, sucking your clit into his mouth and licking it with his tongue.

You weren’t sure if the ‘yes’ actually came out of your mouth, you vaguely only registered your eager nodding and the soft moan that escaped your lips as soon as you felt one of his digits at your entrance. Chris groaned against your skin as soon as he inserted the first finger to the knuckle, the vibration of the sound further fueling that fire in the pit of your stomach. He pumped his finger in tandem with his tongue on your clit, touching and prodding and gauging your reactions to his every move.

One particularly sharp nudge of his finger on your walls had you moaning a bit louder than you were before, and Chris seemed to have picked it up immediately, because he plunged a second finger right after and started pumping his digits in and out, hitting that sweet spot over and over while his lips gently sucked on your clit. You needed to have a hand on the desk to keep yourself up, to maintain some stability, so you shuffled your foot a bit and simply let go of your thigh to bring the hand that was holding it to his head, burying your fingers in his hair and pushing him further against you with a whimper.

Chris groaned as soon as your fingers threaded through his hair, immediately picking up the pace of his fingers and his tongue, bringing you further and further towards the edge, and God if you needed to tip over that edge… With how well he was working you up you felt your lower belly tighten with exertion, and your walls spasm more frequently around his fingers.

“Chris… Fuck, fuck, I’m so fucking close, please–” You almost choked with the moan that came out of your mouth after you spoke, since Chris immediately started ramming his fingers into you harder, faster, just as his plush, now swollen lips kept sucking that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs.

He was absolutely determined to give you your relief, and as soon as you were able to open your eyes and look at him, the look in his eyes, lustful, greedy, was enough to finally push you over the edge. Searing heat spread all over your body with your release, pure pleasure overflowed each and every one of your senses, making you perceive nothing but Chris, Chris, Chris, and his lips between your legs, and his hair between your fingers, and his fingers inside of you.

Chris’ motions didn’t relent until you were thoroughly satisfied, until you weakly pushed on his head with a ‘shit, baby, enough, please’ when he had you on the brink of oversensitivity. As soon as his mouth detached from your heat, he pulled his fingers out and brought them to his lips, sucking them clean before he finally stood up and caught your mouth in a heated kiss. The fact that you could taste yourself on his lips only seemed to spur you on further, making you whimper while you brought a hand to the back of his head and took a handful of his curls to finally get completely lost in the motions of his kiss.

“So pretty, fuck…” He mumbled when his mouth disconnected from yours, cradling your head in his hands as he smothered your face with kisses. “So fucking gorgeous when you come for me, shit…”

His borderline adoring words had you feeling tingly all over, somehow both making your heart swell in your chest and your walls involuntarily flutter even when they were still sporadically spasming from the after effects of your orgasm. When Chris kissed you again, you looped your arms around his neck just as his hands found your hips, pulling him flush to you, heaving chest against heaving chest, getting lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands kneading your flesh.

“Holy fuck”, you chuckled as soon as Chris’ lips parted from yours, and he followed suit, chuckling while he made his way to your neck, to press kisses all over your skin.

“Mmm, I know, right?”

Chris hugged you close, leisurely kissing and licking your neck and shoulders. His soft, lingering touches seemed to shoot straight to the deepest areas within your heart, and even though you’d just had a mind-numbing orgasm, you certainly wanted more. More of him.

“Chris?” You mumbled, hugging him a bit tighter.

“Mm?”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then moved to take his earlobe between your teeth, tugging gently before you whispered, “want you”.

Chris took in a shaky breath, and he pulled himself away from your neck to look at your face. God, you wanted to kiss him, his flushed face and his swollen lips would be a sight that’d haunt your wettest dreams from now on, you just knew. 

He licked his lips. “We don’t have to, pretty”.

“Mm… You’re right, we don’t have to”, dragging one of your hands from his shoulders, down his chest, his abdomen, all the way to his length, you pressed your palm firmly, feeling him still hard under your grasp. “But do you want to?”

“Fuck, yeah, I want to”, Chris held your hips tighter, and you wondered if you’d see bruises tomorrow just as he placed a kiss on your lips. “I want you so bad”.

“You have me. Right here, baby. You can have me right here”, you mumbled against his lips, pressing a kiss there right after, just as Chris swore under his breath.

“Shit… Gimme a sec”, he detached himself from you, rounding the desk and pulling one of the drawers open, muttering to himself. “There were some here, I’m sure…”

You turned to look at him, oddly amused by the way he carelessly moved things around in his drawers. “What are you looking for?”

“Aha! These”, he pulled a three piece box of condoms, and he turned it around a few times in his hand with a frown on his face. “I seriously hope these aren’t expired…”

You chuckled at the sight of his focused face, amused, but also incredibly curious. “Why do you even have a box of condoms in your desk’s drawers? How many girls have you had in here?”

“Believe it or not, you’re the first one”, he chuckled, opening the package and taking one of the foil packets out, examining it closely for a moment, only to finally heave a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Not expired”.

With a smile on your lips, you quirked a brow at him, just as you watched him round the desk again to stand in front of you. He shrugged to your silent question, taking the foil packet between his teeth so he could untie the top of his boilersuit from around his hips and tug the rest and his underwear down enough so his length was free again, and you’d admit you got a bit distracted by the sight.

With the corner of the condom packet still held in place by his teeth, he finally tore it open, and you took the bit of foil that was still in his mouth to drop it somewhere on the desk while Chris carefully slid the condom down his length.

“You’d be surprised how many things a condom can be used for when working with cars. They’re always useful when you need to get creative and use whatever you have at hand”, Chris stood between your parted legs, placing his hands on your hips and squeezing.

“What kind of MacGyver bullshit is that?” You chuckled, but the sound quickly turned into a surprised yelp when Chris held you tightly and pulled you closer to the edge of the desk.

“They’ve always been helpful when I’ve needed them”, leaning into you, Chris placed a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a kiss just as he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your slit, spreading your juices around and teasing your clit in the process, making you whimper into his mouth. “But I’ll be honest, I’ve never been more happy to have them at hand than I do right now”.

You brought a hand to play with the hair at the back of his head, pulling him for a brief kiss. “Put them to good use, then”.

“Demanding, are we?” Chris chuckled, but he lined himself with your entrance anyway, slowly easing his length into your heat. “Oh, shit…”

It was a stretch, alright, but he was being just so incredibly careful, and you appreciated it, you really did. But you were also incredibly desperate to be filled, so you wrapped your legs around his torso and pushed on his ass with your heel, urging him on, making him jut his hips further forward.

“Shit… Have mercy on me, will you?” He mumbled against your cheek, pressing a soft kiss on your skin while his now free hand made its way to your hip again, holding you tightly.

“Want you”, you replied simply, probably whinier and less demanding that you were trying to sound, but Chris complied with your request anyway, finally thrusting all the way in, making you gasp with just how incredibly full you felt.

“Want you, too”, he pressed his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin. The thought of waking up tomorrow and seeing his marks on your neck or your hips made you flush impossibly further, even as he moved along to press kisses on the exposed skin of your shoulder. “Want you so bad I’m genuinely about to burst just by being inside you right now. Need a second”.

Bringing a hand to his cheek, you made him turn away from your shoulder to look at you, and the way he bit his lip before he leaned in for a kiss had you involuntarily clenching around him, eliciting a choked groan from his lips.

“Fuck, driving me nuts… Seriously, we’re gonna have… The best fucking date ever… You’ll see…” He mumbled his words between kisses, and it genuinely had you laughing, because of course he was still thinking about your future date. “C’mon, beautiful. Hold on to me”.

So you did, bringing your arms to rest on his shoulders, burying one of your hands in his hair, all while he placed one hand on the small of your back, and the other on the desk for stability. Finally, Chris moved, starting a rhythm with precise thrusts, making you gasp at the sensation of his length dragging against your walls, making him groan.

“Fuck, shit… That’s good. So good. Feel so fucking perfect around me, baby. Perfect”, with the increase of his tempo you could barely register the words coming out of his mouth, all you could do was whine while you nodded in agreement, hoping that he, too, would know how just incredibly good he felt inside of you.

The way Chris kissed you, almost desperate, the way he started to ram into you, stretching you so deliciously you were already starting to feel lightheaded, all combined had that little bit of sanity you had left in you leave your body entirely, finally letting you succumb to just your utmost primal need for pleasure. But more specifically, for pleasure you could share with Chris.

You honestly couldn’t tell how long you spent getting pounded to that desk, you could just feel Chris’ cock repeatedly splitting you open and his lips on yours and the words that he’d occasionally mumble against your skin, his words of praise and encouragement that had you once again feeling tingly all over, words that fed that pool of arousal inside of you, threatening to spill it all over. You vaguely registered words of your own leave your mouth, too. Words that seemed to spur him on, that seemed to pull blissed-out sounds from his lips and yours nonstop. 

“Lean back a bit for me, gorgeous”, and you couldn’t help but comply, removing one of your hands from his shoulders to place it behind you to lean on it, leaving just enough space between your bodies for Chris to sneak his hand between your bodies, finding your clit and drawing fervent circles on your already oversensitive bud, eliciting a moan from your lips as soon as he did. “Fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby. Just like that, milk my cock just like that, huh…”

“Chris–” You honestly weren’t sure what you were even going to tell him, you could just feel your next high approaching increasingly fast, and you needed it. You needed it badly.

“It’s fine, pretty. Whenever you’re ready, just let go”, he mumbled the words against your cheek, pressing a chaste kiss on it, a complete contrast to his sharp thrusts and the fast movement of his fingers between your legs. “Want to feel you so bad, fuck…”

“Shit–” With a few more flicks of his fingers on your clit, you finally got that sweet, sweet relief. The feeling spread all throughout your body, dragging sounds of pure, unadulterated pleasure out of your mouth, making your legs shake from exertion as you tried to keep your hold around Chris’ torso.

Bringing both of his hands to your hips for leverage, Chris chased his own release, his grunts and groans getting lost in your mouth while he kissed you again. One, two, three thrusts and he was flush against you, shooting his load into the condom while he was buried as deep as he could within your warmth, a mix of his groans and your name and a colourful string of swears flying past his lips as he rode the waves of his ecstasy with minute rolls of his hips.

“Holy fuck”, he cradled your face in his hands, pulling you in for one more heated kiss while he came down from his high, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“I agree”, you were panting a bit, breathless, leaning back on both of your hands as you tried to catch your breath.

Chris laughed, a hearty laugh that had a smile appearing on your face immediately. Taking a hold of the condom by the base of his length to make sure it was secure in place, he finally pulled out, carefully sliding it off of him, tying a knot and throwing it in the bin by his desk. You missed his warmth inside of you immediately.

Taking a roll of toilet paper from one of the tool carts nearby, he quickly cleaned any remnants of his release from his length before he was tucking it back into his briefs, finally wrapping the top of his boilersuit around his waist again. With more paper in hand Chris asked you to ‘please open up those pretty legs for me, hm?’ so he could clean you up, helping you back into your underwear right after.

As soon as you were standing back on your–admittedly unsteady–feet, Chris wrapped his arms around your waist, placing a quick kiss on your lips only to move up and press another on your forehead. “You okay?”

“I’m more than okay”, you chuckled, melting into his embrace. “Everything hurts, though. How’re you?”

“On cloud nine”, he replied simply, giving you one of his blinding smiles, making your heart race with the sight.

When Chris finally detached himself from you, he reached for the soda he’d taken out of your hands earlier, giving it back to you once you told him ‘I still want to drink it. Even if it’s not cold anymore, seriously’, and after a bit of back and forth he simply relented.

“Would you…” Chris started to ask, while he bent down to take the bag out of the bin. “Would you like to come to my place? I mean, I can take you to yours, too, that’s fine, but I figured, you know, you could stay over, and we could have dinner, and I can make you breakfast tomorrow, and I’m sure Wolfgang would love to see you, and we could cuddle to sleep, you know? But if you don’t want to, it’s fin–”

You took a hold of his hand, squeezing it in yours to stop his rambling. “I’d love to”.

Chris just giggled a bit, pressing a quick kiss on your lips and tugging you out of his office back to the garage once he’d switched off the light. When you were outside, you made your way to his 4X4, watching him chuck the small bin bag from his office into the bigger bin out in the garage and going through the motions of switching every light off in here, too.

As you watched him, your eyes drifted to Herbie, parked in his–by now–usual spot. Maybe Chris was right, maybe it was time you considered letting him go. He’d served you well for those two months at the beginning, and when you were in a pinch he was very forgiving, but his condition was unsustainable at this point.

As soon as Chris was by your side again he gave you a kiss for good measure, opening his 4X4’s passenger door for you. You just smiled at him, pressing one more kiss on his lips before you finally hopped in. Chris rounded the bonnet and started to very animatedly talk about a funny thing Wolfgang had done just this morning, gesturing with his hands while he recounted the event, making you laugh.

While Chris drove you two to his place, with soft music playing on the radio, with his hand occasionally shifting from the gear lever to squeeze your thigh, all while a light, easy conversation flowed between you two, you figured that Herbie might’ve been the worst financial decision you’d ever made, but at the very least, he’d brought you to Chris, so you really couldn’t hold a grudge against him, not when you felt so incredibly light and couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face.

You can find part two here

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Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :)

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all for nothing | twelve.

♡ series masterlist | spotify playlist

—summary: after experiencing heartbreak and betrayal, hyunjin has become incredibly closed off and reserved. he hated opening up to people, nor did he think the time or effort was worth it. but when hyunjin meets you, he finally realizes the importance of having someone by your side throughout all the ups and downs of life.

—pairing: hyunjin x f. reader

—genre: (18+) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

—word count: 5.2k

—chapter warnings: hyunjin to the rescue again, surfer hyunjin and seungmin lol, flashbacks in chapter, oc has a moment with hobi, so so many feels and butterflies!!

—a/n: happy new year my loves! thank you for all your support on this blog 🥺wishing you all a safe, healthy and amazing new year <33 you deserve the world and more!

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『paradise lost』 ; 04

❝ misplaced bitterness ❞  

↳ your trip to japan with your best friend dredges up some unexpected feelings of jealousy when an old fling from his past makes herself known, and as a result, perhaps it’s time for a conversation of intentions to take place.

⎯ ୨previous୧ ⎯  ○  ⎯ ୨series mlist୧ ⎯ ○ ⎯ ୨next୧ ⎯

『 pairing 』 : kim hongjoong x fem!reader

『 genre 』 : romance, explicit sexual content.

『 rating 』 : mature

『 word count 』 : 8.6k

『 warnings 』 : sexually explicit content: unprotected penetrative sex, exhibitionism, etc etc much of the same with these two

Watching the rain glaze the small window to your left — completely devoid of any sound you might anticipate it making, it’s your surroundings that have you feeling as though you’re a kid again — playing pretend. Taking small pieces of truth and fitting them together into a story that you momentarily perceive as real. Yes, it’s make believe, and yes, you know that; but the feelings are real.

The feelings are always real.

Comfortable in the seat for your flight for the first time in what you think might be ever, you remember more truth about your circumstances among your thoughts, flooded with fantastic stories of who and what: you’re sitting business class, also a first, but to no thanks of your own, of course.

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i was not expecting a voice clip at all, but holy shit. man was in for an amazing ride lmao. but also, i feel like as much as i kinda relate with chris in this one(for things i will keep private) i genuinely hope with future chapters he finds his place to stand up to his wife more. his wife seems extremely cunty and not in the affectionate way.

DON'T LET ME LOVE YOU | Chapter 1

«SERIES MASTERLIST»

«We shouldn’t. We really shouldn’t.»

SEDUCTION 📜9.9k | Aprrox. 41-min. read 🚨Refer to series masterlist for general themes & warnings of this story: Referenced past traumatic experiences (broken home, domestic abuse, implied murder, runaway situation), various criminal acts, depictions of a dysfunctional marriage, heavy sexual frustration, sexting, mention of sex toys/teledildonics ("Connected" is a fictional app where partners control each other's sex toys), (mutual) masturbation, handjob, blowjob, risk of getting caught. 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

This chapter features NSFW audio purely for the sake of an immersive story experience. Should you choose to listen to it, please proceed at your own risk.

Penguins are monogamous creatures.

The male penguin brings the best, smoothest pebble he can find and offers it to the female. If the female accepts it, they mate for life. Keep one mate away from the other and they will get sick. They will even stop grooming themselves because what’s the fucking point when their literal other half is not around to appreciate them?

The logistics are exactly the same for humans. You offer a shiny stone to your partner with the promise of mating for life. If they accept it, that should be your happily ever after because that’s how every fairy tale ends. Little do those scam stories tell you that shit goes down after you say “I do”.

What is marriage at the end of the day anyway? It’s an insurance policy you never hope to use. It’s a gamble where you go all in that the other person won’t break your heart.

Penguins don’t coerce their partners into mating. It’s an instinctive thing for them. They are unaware of the concept of blackmail.

The only thing some humans have in common with penguins is the tuxedos they wear on their wedding day. Some humans, mind you. They are selfish. They are mean. They are lying, scheming, ugly creatures, and they will do anything to get what they want. Good luck trying to stand in their way and not getting razed to the ground.

Christopher Bang was also married. Beautiful couple, beautiful house, living large on the seven figures he made annually. Pure envy fuel.

If he said out loud that he was thinking about cheating on his wife every second of every day, he would either get shunned to the final circle of hell or get publicly lynched Game of Thrones style because what the literal fuck could someone possibly want more from life? You wanna get your dick wet outside of the holy institution of marriage? Get a fucking divorce!

If only people shut the fuck up for once and provided their unsolicited opinions after knowing the truth.

Because it was nothing but ugly.

Thistles had such a bad rep.

Not only were they categorized as invasive plants, but they were also viciously thorny. Nobody ever cared about how beautiful the bright violet flower was, but for some reason, roses didn’t get the same treatment.

That was exactly why you adored the thistles growing in the backyard of your childhood home. They provided a safe haven for you like a pillow fort made of spikes every time you ran from the yelling and screams of pain echoing in some room of the house. Nobody ever cared to look for you among the vicious thorns.

Nobody ever cared for you.

It was six weeks before your seventeenth birthday that your mother couldn’t endure it anymore. It was six days after her funeral that you left everything behind and disappeared into the night with a piece of thistle stuffed in your pocket. The prospect of getting stranded on the side of some highway was much better than going through the system now that your excuse of a father was behind bars.

Nobody ever cared for you, and no one was going to. You would rather die than rely on someone other than your own shoulders. 

You did try the honest ways at first; just trying to make a humble but decent living to get by, abiding by the rules, and being conscientious. The more you tried to do the right thing, the more people thought you were this poor little naive thing that had nobody, ripe to be taken advantage of.

You would rather die than let someone use you in any capacity.

Yes, all was fair in love and war, but nobody ever talked about how it was also the case in survival. It started as a simple coping mechanism to keep people at bay, just a thin sheet of metal between you and the rest of the world. With all the trials life threw at you, with all the fuckers you had to deal with, it morphed into heavy body armor made of spikes that would put the most reputable knights to shame.

Those who touch it, prick themselves.

Nobody was born a badass. You had to become one.

You were spending your life completely unaware of the concept of taking roots, going wherever the wind took you, frequently changing identities, dancing and scamming for a living, which eventually led you to become a part of The Club, the only woman-led gang that put themselves on the map with branches all over the country. They were the closest thing you had to a family.

You didn’t even know what family was supposed to be like prior to meeting them.

You weren’t ashamed of anything you had done—on the contrary, you were proud of staying afloat on your own and living your life on your own terms. If it came to that, you would do it all over again. 

Nevertheless, human beings had limits, and it was getting more apparent to you as you were getting older.

You agreed to marry some hedge fund guy who was deliriously in love with you for his money. He had promised to take care of you. You didn’t have to do any of this anymore and just enjoy the good things in life like the princess he took you for.

Rule #1: If it sounds too good to be true, it most likely is.

You were so exhausted from being on constant survival mode that you had forgotten all about it.

If taking care of you meant you were supposed to be this window exhibit for him to admire any time he wanted, keeping you away from all human contact, and experiencing acute rage when a male mosquito was passing by then fuck all of this very disrespectfully.

You had grown up adoring thistles. Obviously, you weren’t just going to walk away without a bang. You sought the assistance of The Club’s lawyer then. An absolute expert in shady shit. Lee Minho.

Your last ‘number’ featuring Minho involved framing your dear dear husband for embezzlement to get rid of him, which granted you an automatic divorce and enough money to start a new life. Away from all of this shit. From all the lying and scheming and running away. Just enjoying the good things in life by your fucking self.

And at long last, you saw the sign at the borders of the town.

Welcome to Sunderland!

You didn’t know it back then, but this big-ass cursive sign should have come with a tagline attached to it.

...where suburban dreams are made and all people do is live fake-ass lives.

“Thanks! I’ll take it from here.”

You saw the moving people off, and stood right in the middle of your spacious living room, just looking around your new ‘home’. You thought the warm and fuzzy feeling that you heard about so much would start creeping in already, but… You had no clue what warm and fuzzy was. 

While you were opening a bunch of boxes in search of coziness, your doorbell rang, and on the other side stood someone that looked like they belonged to the cast of Bling Empire.

“Hi, welcome to the neighborhood! My name is Casey.”

A woman in a white sundress with floral patterns. Slightly taller than you, glowing skin, shampoo commercial-looking-ass coiffed long hair, and Instagram model measurements that you knew were obtained after several operations. You ran her through the bullshit filter you had acquired courtesy of meeting way too many people in your lifetime, and your initial results? 

Fake bitch with the potential to be even more annoying.

“Y/N. Pleasure to meet you,” you smiled at her as she handed you what looked like homemade banana bread.

“I live right over there,” she pointed at the house across yours, “Is your husband around? I’d love to welcome him as well!”

Good god, why is she talking in a pitch that disturbs cats?

“Oh, I’m not married,” you kept your composure at the thinly veiled insinuation.

“Aww, it’s okay,” she pouted and placed her hand on your shoulder, “You never know when your soulmate will come knocking on the door. He’s right around the corner, I can feel it!”

There ain’t no way this woman wasn’t hopped up on Adderall or some shit. Who the fuck squeezed eighty five different prejudices about someone in a span of thirty seconds?

What a fucking cunt.

“If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to come knock on our door. My husband and I will be more than happy to help you,” her eyes disappeared behind her smile, “I’ll let you get back to unpacking. Welcome again!”

You thanked Casey and closed the door behind you, your ears still ringing from the extraordinarily high decibel she spoke in.

Your doorbell didn’t stop ringing that entire day, and different couples composed of good-looking people kept appearing at your doorstep as if they were auditioning for a real estate commercial, but it didn’t feel like a welcome parade at all. It was more like somebody told someone that there was this denim-short-wearing single person moving into the neighborhood, and the word somehow traveled at lightspeed. From the way those pretty ladies were intensely judging you while smiling at your face, it was so obvious they were just there to declare their assets and show you what you should not touch at all costs. Meanwhile, the aforementioned assets looked at you once and then turned around to look at you again, enraging their partners beyond control on their way back home.

You most certainly did not belong with these modern-day Stepford wives, and needless to say, it was gonna be so much fun to piss them off.

Since you kept being interrupted, you said fuck it to unpacking. In between the doorstep speed dating with your new neighbors, you hung out on your balcony instead, smiling and waving at the passersby. With a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other, you looked like you were badly photoshopped into that backdrop—all that was missing was a scarlet A stitched to your chest. 

When the goddamn doorbell rang again for the jillionth time that day, you were pretty buzzed and annoyed out of your mind thanks to the unsolicited auditions. Did no one give a shit whether you were available or not?

Fine, we get it, y’all have a commemorative organic cock in your house and I have my fucking dildos. What do you WANT from me?!

“Hi, yes, I’m new here,” you clenched your teeth with a forced smile and snatched the plate from the visitor’s hand, “and I have negative interest in your husband. Thank you for the cookies.” 

“Wow, you’re a bit of a bitch, aren’t you?”

It was… surprising to say the least. You were so conditioned to the saccharine cookie commercial niceness of the Stepford wives that the bluntness hit you like a cool refreshing breeze. Your attitude towards this woman immediately changed because she reminded you so much of your friends from The Club.

“I like you, badass lady,” you extended your hand to her, “I’m Y/N. You daydrink?”

“Nathalie,” she accepted your olive branch with squinted eyes, “Whoever says no to sauvignon blanc in the afternoon cannot be trusted.”

“And now we have to be best friends. Please come in.”

That afternoon, you made your first friend and bonded with her over your mutual annoyance with these fake as hell people. For a second there, you thought you were maybe just being paranoid, but when Nathalie confirmed your observations, you were unequivocally convinced that these people were straight up judgmental assholes.

With the wine-induced comfort she found with you, Nathalie told you all about being as shunned as you the day she moved here because she was ‘new money’—after an extremely lucky weekend in Vegas, she and her husband Jisung had decided to move here in hopes of living a happy life. The Stepford wives were seemingly very cordial with her, but their attitude was nowhere north of ‘you can’t sit with us’. It was like they were doing everything in their power to remind her that she did not belong with them. 

You, on the other hand, immediately liked this woman because honestly, she was the only real one among them. You were pretty sure her husband was as likable as her.

“Okay, I was mad when you first came, but seriously thank you for the cookies. Come by anytime you want, okay? I live alone.”

You exchanged phone numbers with Nathalie and saw her off. As you were opening a new bottle of wine on your balcony, thinking it was going to take a lot of self-brainwashing to get used to this town and its Trumanesque people, you noticed some movement in your peripheral vision.

The garage door to Casey’s house was open, and there was a man inside, literally the only person who did not drop by your place the entire day. He was naked from the waist up and he was punching the sandbag in front of him so hard that you wondered whether he had a personal vendetta against it.

You didn’t make much of it at first. Who the fuck were you to judge when you had that eye candy for a street view anyway?

The next evening you watched him shoot hoops very aggressively for almost two hours all by himself. The day after he did maybe sixty laps in his pool. It was quite obvious he was an active guy, but he seemed to be doing that excessively as if he was trying to compensate for anger management issues or something. He always seemed to be quite irritated, never once smiling.

Besides the fact that he was the only person inducing something akin to butterflies in your stomach even from that afar, there was nothing to worry about.

That Friday, you invited Nathalie for brunch, which was a complete excuse for socially acceptable daydrinking. After you downed three glasses of Bellini each, the topic of conversation shifted to a spicier realm, which happened to be among the things you were a bit too knowledgeable about.

According to what she told you, Nathalie and Jisung both seemed a bit clueless when it came to exploring pleasure. She quite clearly wanted more, and her husband was eager to please, but they were stuck in the vanilla rut of most marriages. 

“Well, have you tried openly communicating with him about this?” you asked while adding ice to her flute.

“I don’t know how. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jisung, but…” she trailed off and heaved a deep sigh, somewhat afraid you were going to judge her, “Sometimes a girl just wants her man to… hit that, you know what I mean?”

“Preach, good woman,” you raised your glass for a toast, “Want me to teach you a couple of tricks?”

“Like what?”

“Y’all have a sex shop around here?”

“A what?”

You looked at Nathalie with wide eyes as if she had told you the earth was flat.

“You’re kidding me,” you raised your voice but immediately backed down and grabbed your phone, “No judgment! The internet will save us all. So what are some things you are into?”

As you were going through some of your favorite products on your phone, you heard the loud sound of an engine, and a car pulled up in Casey’s driveway. You watched the hot workout guy get off the car and head straight into the garage instead of inside the house.

“Hey, Nat, who’s this?”

“Girl, don’t even!” Nathalie immediately protested, “His wife would tear you to shreds.”

“What did I do?!”

“You breathed. You’re the only single in this entire neighborhood and a hot piece of ass. Your chances of survival are very slim.”

Shortly after, he emerged by his pool in his red swimming shorts and immediately jumped into the water to do laps. Your lips parted at the sight, and you spoke without even thinking.

“God, he gives me a massive lady boner.”

“BITCH!”

“What? I can’t control who’s turning me on, can I?” you stretched your hands to the side, “Seriously, who is it?”

Nathalie let out a defeated sigh, “That’s Chris. Or as Casey keeps correcting people, Dr. Bang.”

Dr. Bang me all night long, indeed.

“Casey… Casey… Cas—  He’s married to Malibu Barbie?!”

Nathalie looked at you with raised brows and bust out a loud cackle, “That’s the most accurate description of her if I ever heard one.”

“So he’s a doctor,” you nudged her for more information.

“Yeah, he has his own practice,” she continued, “He’s been to second base with all the ladies of Sunderland at one point.”

“You too?”

“Of course.”

“Damn, the dude’s a player, huh?” you turned to his direction again.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous! He’s a cosmetic surgeon,” Nathalie immediately corrected you, “There’s not a pair of tits in this town that hasn’t seen his magnificent treatment.”

“Oh…” your eyes inadvertently shifted to her chest, “I mean your tits are indeed awesome.”

“I know right?” she grabbed her breasts and mischievously smiled, “Granted, most people use breast implants as an excuse to ethically spend time with him.”

“Why? Does he grant wishes or whatever?”

“It’s the way he talks, sweetie,” she munched on her croissant, “The guy’s Australian.”

Oh, GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK! 

“Hot doctor dude with a hotter accent and he’s taken?” you whined a bit too loudly, “Well, fuck my life indeed.”

“Yeah, sorry,” she swallowed her bite and gave you a pat on your back, “You can always consider breast implants, though.”

“I’m good, Nat, thank you.”

A doctor. Ridiculously good-looking. Seemed well-off. Of course every job came with a certain amount of stress, but why did he throw himself into physical activity the second he arrived home?

“Every time I see him he’s working out, though,” you spoke, your eyes still on Chris.

“And? Sue the guy for wanting to keep fit.”

“That’s not it,” you insisted, “He’s overdoing it a little bit. Like he’s angry or some stuff. Why is that?”

“So what if he likes working out?”

“Nat…”

When you stood firm with your observation, Nathalie heaved a sigh and scooted closer to you.

“Between you and me, Casey loves flaunting him around, but I don’t think their marriage is what she makes it out to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve seen Little Miss Perfect, right? She acts like she’s living in a reality show,” then she continued with even a lower voice, “But rumor has it they don’t even have sex.”

What an interesting piece of information, indeed!

“And… he’s okay with it?”

“I doubt it.”

“So, what is it? Is he like— seeking the company of other people?”

“As if! Everyone’s dead scared of Casey.”

Well, you weren’t.

The more you kept watching him, the more Chris reminded you of the surfers you knew from your time at Kirra Point.

Sunkissed friendly guys who would get you soaked just with their filthy mouths.

Well-behaved guys who were into kinky shit behind closed doors.

Considerate guys who would mark their girls in their beds.

Laid-back guys who fucking lost their shit when someone else touched what was theirs.

You wondered if Chris was one of them.

From that day on, you stopped fighting the urge that had been bubbling inside you. Not only was Chris fucking gorgeous, but his vibe was way more distinctive than his cigar-smoking, scotch-drinking, golf-playing counterparts. You hadn’t even talked to him once, but he had already colonized every single corner of your mind. He was the only thing you could think about every time you touched yourself.

“Just what the fuck are you doing being the Ken to that Malibu Barbie?” you uttered out loud in your bed one night, “A man like you belongs with me.”

“Fuck!”

You were supposed to head to the city center that day to run some errands, and of course that would be the day you had a flat tire. Right when you walked back to your driveway to search for some auto shop nearby, you noticed your neighbor’s garage door was very much open.

Maybe every cloud indeed had a silver lining after all. 

“Nice ride,” you pointed at the Maserati as you walked into the garage, “I’m assuming you also have a car jack?”

“A car jack?” Chris spoke with his back still turned to you.

“I have a flat tire. I haven’t been able to get all my garage stuff yet.”

When he turned around, you established your first eye contact with him. His gaze on you shouldn’t have affected you so maybe, but you felt shocked from head to toe although you didn’t let it show.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he launched a pair of dimples and extended his hand to you, “I’m Chris.”

“Y/N. I just moved across the street,” you pointed to your house.

“Nice to meet ya. I’ll go get the jack.”

Nothing too extraordinary. His sandbag you were a bit too familiar with hung to the ceiling, some boxes he stored in his garage, a bunch of tools lying here and there… It didn’t tell much about who he really was.

“What brings you to Sunderland?” Chris came back momentarily without being able to find the jack, “This is not really a place to move to unless you have to be here.”

“Very long story. I’ll tell you sometime,” you smiled and leaned against the wooden desk, “What do you do?”

“I’m a doctor.”

“Specialty?”

“Cosmetic surgeon.”

“Oh, goodie, are you doing give-a-shitometer implants because I need one to survive here.”

Chris involuntarily burst into laughter at your words. It had been a while since he genuinely laughed at something.

And the sound of his voice gave you an extreme case of butterfly invasion.

“Unfortunately, can relate.” 

He was still looking around to look for your request, and you decided to fill in the silence with some more small talk.

“Got any kids?”

“No. Happily married without children.”

There was something in his voice that you were a bit too familiar with. It was the exact tone you used when you were trying to pass something as trivial. You cocked a brow and snorted.

“Wow, do they not teach you about the dark arts of lying in med school?”

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, I don’t know you from Adam. You might be a great doctor, but you’re a horrible liar, man,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “You don’t have to take me up on the offer, but I’ll just put it out there that I’m around if you ever need someone to talk to.” 

Chris had found the jack by then so you walked over to him to grab it from his hands.

“Or other things if you ever need it,” you winked at him and reassuringly smiled, which caused him to get flustered for some reason.

“Ot–other things?”

“You know, information,” you shrugged, “Not only am I very perceptive, but I’m also great at research.” 

“Yeah? Anything interesting you’ve perceived so far?”

His tone changed to something much more playful. If you didn’t know any better, you would be inclined to say that he was… flirting with you.

“For starters, I know sexual frustration when I see it,” you brazenly grinned, “That’s why you box a lot, isn’t it?

His expression immediately transformed into shock, which was how you knew you hit the nail on the head. 

“And I’m very discreet. I can keep your secrets too if you want,” you nonchalantly uttered, “It’s been a while since you had some back-arching, toe-curling sex, hasn’t it?” 

Chris was completely stunned, having less than zero clue as to how to respond to that. He didn’t deny it, nor did he tell you to mind your own business for that matter. With the courage you derived from that, you continued.

“What is it? Vanilla lady just lays there and you do all the work?”

No, that wasn’t it. His eyes darted to the floor and you could see his ears getting concerningly red.

“Or is it because you’re too much of a deviant?” you carried on with a smaller voice, “I know for a fact that not everyone can handle that shit.”

He was drawing a total blank. It shouldn’t have been hard to refute, but he clearly enjoyed your blatant flirting considering the smile he was trying to hide with a discreet bite of his lips. Unfortunately for him, you noticed that, too.

“I uh– I don’t– I’m–”

“Sweetheart, are you—? Oh. Hello.”

“What’s up, Barbie?” you greeted the owner of the voice with a salute of two fingers on your forehead, completely unfazed by her presence.

“Casey. We met the other day,” she spoke with a forced smile, “Did you need something?”

“Yup. This bad boy,” you held the car jack.

One needed to be next-level dumb not to notice Casey was looking at you with absolute malice. Chris might have learned how to block the fuck out of it considering how unresponsive he was, but you knew that look. You had seen it many times before directly targeted at you.

“It’s good that I ran into you,” Casey walked over to Chris and linked her arm with his, “We’re hosting our annual fall dinner at the end of the month. You should definitely come!”

Good fucking grief, who knew what the fuck kind of ulterior motive this woman had. Then again, one thing she did not yet know about you was how much of a thick skin you had, and this could be your ultimate chance to put this woman in her place. 

“Sure,” you shrugged and readily accepted her invitation, “Can I bring a friend?”

“Of course! Feel free to bring a date.”

“As much as I’m not married, I also don’t have a partner.”

“I can arrange someone for you!”

“Casey,” Chris warned looking to his left.

Goddamn, Barbie. Way to be subtle about your neurotic tendencies.

“Nor am I looking for one,” you reflected her fake smile back at her, “I meant Nathalie and her husband from two doors down.”

“Oh,” Casey stole a look from Chris and smiled again, “Why not? The more the merrier.”

“Then it’s a date,” you chirped, “Thanks for the jack, Chris.”

“Oh, actually,” Casey corrected you, “It’s Dr. Bang.”

“Ah, of course,” you exaggeratedly reverenced all the way to the floor, “Please accept my eternal gratitude for the car-lifter his almighty excellency, Dr. Bang. I am but a humble servant to your whims whenever you wish, your grace.”

Chris laughed so loudly at your antics that it seemed to have made his wife much angrier.

“And I mean it,” you winked at him teasingly and walked away.

One thing you learned that day for sure was that Casey did not like you.

It wasn’t really discernible. You were reading a book on the swing on your balcony when you heard some yelling in the distance, followed by Chris loudly slamming his front door close and driving off into the night. 

If this is not the proof that suburbia dreams are a scam, I swear to fucking god…

After some time, the night air became a lot chillier, and you decided to walk inside, which was when you heard a knock on your door. Nobody had ever knocked on your door besides Nathalie, much less during nighttime.

“Chris?” you wrapped yourself in your shawl while opening the door, “What are you doing here?”

“Does your offer still stand?” he looked at you with a mixture of desperation and annoyance, “I just need someone to talk to.”

“What’s your poison?” you stepped aside for him to come in, “Scotch? Wine?”

“Gin.”

“The best I can do is vodka.”

“Fucking deal.”

You grabbed two glasses from your cabinet and momentarily returned to your living room couch.

“If you don’t mind me asking, don’t you have any friends?” you started pouring the drinks, “Like male ones your wife won’t flip out about.”

“They are worse than the women populating this neighborhood. You say one thing and it travels all the way to the city council by the next morning,” Chris grabbed the glass and downed the content in one go, “Nothing they already don’t know about anyway.”

“So I’m getting the executive summary on your household drama,” you attempted some lighthearted humor to ease his apparent tension, “Good to know.”

He let out a faint chuckle, and while you were expecting him to start talking, only silence followed.

“I actually don’t even know why I came here.”

“Because you needed a friend,” you gently touched his shoulder, “You can vent as much as you want. I meant it when I said I’m very discreet.”

And boy did he go off. 

Why the fuck did people always have to do everything together, huh? Maybe sometimes he fucking needed his space. Come to think of it, Chris needed his space all the time. Couldn’t people just get the fucking hint? If someone was not spending time with you, it meant they fucking wanted to be away from you, and he was sick of locking himself in his clinic. He wanted his goddamn work and personal spaces to be separate; was that too much to ask? It wasn’t like there were any places he could go to in this godforsaken town anyway. If he could, he would, and he would only come home to sleep. He was seriously considering investing in a shooting range in this town because otherwise he was going to fucking kill someone.

Chris was completely breathless by the end of his monologue while you were looking at him with a calm expression.

“Feeling better?”

“Loads,” he answered, having massively calmed down by then.

You didn’t ask any questions. It didn’t look like Chris could answer many of them in that headspace anyway. You just lent your listening ear to him and kept refilling his glass until he was all vented out. After about an hour later, he noticed what time it was.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry. I should go,” Chris got up from the couch, “Thank you so much for listening to me.”

“Anytime.”

You walked him to the front door to see him off, thinking about how to properly do it. A handshake after a heart-to-heart talk was going to be too formal. A kiss on the cheek might have been too familiar. A hug. A hug was the way to go. It was friendly, but not too intimate. Everybody hugged, after all, right? It didn’t have to mean anything else. You opened your arms to offer him an embrace and he reciprocated. That was it. Everything was going fine. Zero damage.

Until he decided to fucking linger and steal a whiff of your scent from your neck.

You were dead scared to face him and look into his eyes. His big, sad eyes that seemed to harbor some inexplicable restlessness. You wanted to kiss him. Just once. Feel his perfectly plush lips between yours. You just knew he was a good kisser. He would get you so wet just with that moist pair of flesh alone. You could make him cum just by kissing his face off if he let you. 

You didn’t even realize how you were pulling at each other like magnets. The distance between you was almost completely closed when he suddenly stopped himself.

“Do you uh– Do you mind exchanging numbers?”

“Right!” you immediately backed away like somebody pinched you, “Of course.”

He handed you his phone for you to type in your digits, and you called yourself to save his number. After that, there was nothing else left for him to do but leave.

“I um– Yeah, good night.”

“Good night, Chris.”

Once you closed the door behind him, you dashed to your window and watched him walk towards his home with his hands in his pockets. To pretend everything was fine and that he didn’t have a shred of worry in this world. As if he wasn’t trapped within the tight walls of the holy institution of marriage. Who did they think they were kidding? Was this entire town experiencing a collective case of blindness, or did everybody just go along with it? If they did, just fucking why?

That Malibu Barbie-tch was never going to leave him alone. Except maybe for a casual greeting on the street, or making up excuses to borrow stuff from each other, there was no way for you to see him again unless he came to see you.

You really wanted him to come and see you. Just once more. To shelter him from whatever it was that was making him so unhappy.

Until then—if that was ever going to happen, that is—all you were able to do was text one another. About whatever. The basketball game last night, some documentary, ‘You’ll never guess who walked into my clinic today’, which happened to be the mayor’s wife coming in for a butt lift. Stuff that one would assume you would be able to talk to your spouse with. But he was talking about them with you instead. Days were passing by and nothing was happening. 

Except something was happening to you, and you fucking hated that feeling.

It was another lonely night. While watching some rom-com to diss the couples you saw on the screen out loud, you had seen the bottom of a pretty decent rosé bottle already, and you were contemplating whether you should open a second one. You might have been watching a movie to keep the front end of your brain occupied, but you were thinking about Chris again in the background. You were thinking about him a lot.

With all the courage granted to you by the dumb decision juice, you grabbed your phone and opened his message tab.

You Wyd? Chris Can’t sleep. Netflixing. What u doing up so late? You Alcohol intake [Typing…] You alone? Chris Yeah You Where is she? Chris On a plane coming home unfortunately [Typing…]

He stopped typing. You had seen Malibu Barbie just that morning jogging like a reality star followed by cameras, which meant she was out of town for less than twenty-four hours, but more importantly, Chris said she was ‘unfortunately’ coming home.

Huh.

You I can see you typing Finish that sentence Chris [Typing…] Been thinking about you

Goddammit, Aussie dude!!!

Being a cool-ass woman was a matter of pride for you, so you thanked everything fucked up and twisted that there was nobody around to see how much that stupid text made you giggle.

You May have been thinking about you too Chris What are you thinking about? You What are you thinking about? Chris I asked you first

He wanted to know what you were thinking about? Fine. You took off your bottoms in one go, sat down in front of your full-length mirror, spread your legs apart, and took several pictures. After deciding on the one that showcased the gloss on your folds the best, you hit send.

You [IMG_301.jpg] Your mouth right here Chris [Typing…] Are you trying to drive me fucking insane????? You Maybe :) [Typing…]

Was that too much? That had got to be too much. Then again Chris didn’t outright tell you what the fuck you were doing, and one could argue that he gave you a rather satisfactory reaction instead. Maybe he was as drunk as you. Maybe he was also thinking about it. If shit hit the fan, you could always blame it on the alcohol, apologize, and call it a day.

But not without shooting your shot first.

Chris You’re doing it this time Finish that sentence You [Typing…] Can I send you an invite? Chris For? You Some fun [Link] “Vibe with neonredlights on Connected.” Download this app Chris [Typing…] You’re underestimating me [Link] “CB69 is inviting you for a Connected session.” You really shouldn’t

Yeah, apparently you absolutely shouldn’t have, but how in the genuine fuck did Chris know about Connected in the first place? You had never seen a guy owning a remote-controlled vibrator for himself before, and you would bet good money no one in the vanillaest town ever that was Sunderland knew how to spell sex toys. Unless you were playing solo, the app required knowing another person’s username to directly connect to them within a 200-feet radius, and that was all the evidence you needed to conclude that Chris’ frustration levels were through the fucking roof.

So the rumors were true. So that was why he was obsessed with excessively working out every single day.

They weren’t having sex.

You 🧍‍♂️ You own a fucking stroker???? Chris :) [Typing…] I can see you Why don’t u come closer to your bedroom window? You [Typing…] Can I hear you too? Chris [Typing…] What’s the point of letting me play with you if I can’t hear your voice? In that case... Your partner CB69 wants to start a video session.

The excitement was too much to handle all of a sudden. Not only were you going to see him in all his fucking glory, you were also about to make each other feel good. So good that you were sure it was going to be beyond either of your wildest dreams.

But the call screen disappeared before you could take it, and a text followed instead.

Chris Fucking… There’s someone at the door To be continued? Please?

You let out a heavily frustrated sigh as this was the worst case of blue balls you had ever experienced. When you stole a quick glance from his gate, you saw that it was Casey waiting for the door to be opened. You cursed a mouthful and responded.

You You bet

It might not have gone as you pictured it, but that night you still came to the thought of Chris playing with you however the fuck he pleased.

“I did something bad.”

You weren’t looking for Nathalie to condone what you did. You just wanted to get it out of your chest because you weren’t exactly sure you were allowed past the threshold of a church. 

“What did you do?”

“You mean who did I do…”

She tilted her head, indicative of the fact that she knew where this was about to go, and let out somewhat of a scared whine.

“Oh, god, not Chris!”

“Well, technically I didn’t do him,” you darted your eyes to your glass and continued with a smaller voice and at a faster pace, “We sorta sexted the other night.”

“You WHAT?!”

“Look, I’ll listen to your scolding in a second, but he also came by my place some time ago,” when her eyes widened even more you immediately continued, “Nothing happened, I swear. We just talked.”

“And?”

“The man’s in horrible shape, Nat. He seems so unhappy.”

“That’s literally none of your concern.”

You were getting a bit frustrated at the whole let the sleeping Caseys lie attitude of this entire fucking neighborhood. Just what the fuck did this woman have as leverage to scare everyone not to even have a genuine conversation with Chris? Or did she even have anything for that matter? What if it was all a big fat bluff, and nobody was fucking calling it?

“Looks like it ain’t anybody’s concern, either. Aren’t you guys friends with this man?”

Shame. You recognized that expression wherever you saw it.

“I’ll talk to Jisung to make some time for him. Just don’t get yourself in trouble until we know more, okay?”

Well, you could at least try. 

That afternoon, you went to the city center for some shopping and you ended up making a day for yourself, just checking out shops, walking at the park, and having dinner somewhere by yourself. By the time you got home, it was already dark and you were dead tired.

As you were in your room getting changed, you caught a glimpse of the illuminated pool of your neighbor. You recalled the memories of how he frantically swam in it like he was trying to soothe some burn. The way he slicked his wet hair back when he got out, drops of water trickling down his perfectly sculpted body, his bulging arms, his large hands, his thick thighs…

Oh, god.

You felt yourself getting wet at the mere thought of him again. You were never not getting turned on by this guy lately. If only there was a way to manifest him in your room every time you felt that way because—

Chris Hey

Well, that was quick.

Hey. A simple opener. A casual greeting. Literally no meaning behind it.

Yet it immediately fried your brain.

Chris [Typing…] You awake? You I am Chris You looked so pretty today :) You Thank you :) Where did you see me? Chris Passing by my clinic You Oh your clinic is around the square? Chris Yup I’m still there actually You What are you doing there all by yourself at this hour? Chris Currently? [Typing…] Thinking about you I can’t concentrate

A sudden rush of excitement immediately started coursing through your body. It wasn’t an assumption; he was as aroused as you were. You were looking for a quip to hit him back with, but Chris took your one chance of snark away from you.

Chris I want to touch you so bad

There was no other way around it but to just dive into the water headfirst.

You Just touch? Chris [Typing…] Among a lot of things I want to show you how good I can make you feel

Fuuuck this guy entirely!

Your breath hitched in your throat. You climbed on your bed and started replaying all the fantasies you had about him from the top.

You You ever been to the Ritz in Mayweather? Chris For conference only You Their suites are to die for Wanna go sometime? Chris [Typing…]

Waiting for that reply was fucking torture, but you were completely entranced, just looking at your screen with your lips parted as if you were having this conversation with him face to face. Was his heart beating as fast as yours? Was he also imagining all the things he would do to you? Was he thinking about you as often as you were thinking about him? Was he cumming to the thought of you at all?

Chris It would be fucking amazing Just the two of us Spending the entire 24 hours in a room Fucking I wanna drive you insane

In all honesty, who would drive whom insane was up for debate, but it was nice to hear that he was up for the challenge. You couldn’t help biting into your smile.

You I would dress up for you you know Chris You would? [Typing…] What would you wear? You I have a respectable collection of black lace You like bralettes? Chris LOVE them Show me You Not so easy Show me what I’m doing to you first Chris [IMG302.jpeg]

You literally felt your sanity evaporate when you saw how flushed and hard he was. Just how the fuck was he this… fucking… gorgeous?!?!

You FUCK [Typing…] I’m salivating all of a sudden Chris Your turn

You jumped from your bed to change into one of your favorite lingerie combinations. Then you laid on your bed face down with your feet up, snapped a picture in the mirror, and sent it to him.

Chris I hope you’re not attached to those I so wanna rip them off you [Typing…] Talk to me baby

You wondered what it would actually feel like if he said that to you while looking right into your eyes. When he was hovering over your body. When he was touching you. Kissing you. Filling you up over and over again just to fuck his cum deeper into you. 

Talk to me, baby. 

Give it to me, baby. 

I’m yours, baby.

Unbeknownst to yourself, you started stroking yourself over your underwear.

You I want to know what you taste like I want to know what I taste like on your lips But even better I want you to know what you taste like spilling out of me

Chris was definitely playing everything through in his head on the other end of the line. Every time you were waiting for his reply, it felt like some undiscovered part of you was getting filled with excessive amounts of anticipation, and the second you received that text, it morphed into elation and released as complete zeal all over your body.

Chris Fucking Keep going Please [Typing…] I’m so fucking close

Out of complete instinct, you took your top off and sent him a picture of your breasts with your nipples visibly hardened.

You [IMG303.jpeg] I wanna feel you cum on these Chris [Typing…]

He stopped typing. All of a sudden, that little indicator turned into something so unexpected that it immediately skyrocketed your blood pressure, causing your heart to thump in your ears.

Chris [Recording audio…]

He was fucking recording. You weren’t able to mentally prepare yourself for what he was about to send you. It could be fifteen different things. Maybe a song playing in the background. Maybe a sentence. Maybe… Maybe… 

Chris Audio (1:22)

By then, you were so overwhelmed with desire that your hands were shaking when you were about to press play.

There was no way you were the same woman you once were after listening to Chris’ voice, pleasuring himself to the thought of you, moaning, panting, whining, and begging to the ghost of you for his release. The recording hadn’t even finished when you felt a sudden peak in your arousal and came untouched to the sounds of his pleasure.

Chris I’m fucking gone [Typing…] You’re amazing

You bit into your smile, experiencing this kind of an afterglow for the first time ever, and responded to him.

You Good night handsome :) [Typing…] I’ll see you tomorrow at dinner

Who knew, maybe Casey was right. Maybe your soulmate was really right around the corner in the literal sense of the word.

You appeared at your host’s doorstep with Jisung and Nathalie, clueless about what to expect from the night. Chris was the one to greet you by the door, and once he let the Hans in, he turned to you. There seemed to be sparks flying between you two, and once he caught a glimpse of the intricate front straps of your bralette under the oversized shirt you were wearing, it almost short-circuited his brain.

“You– you wore black lace.”

“I told you I would,” you winked and handed him the bottle of wine you brought.

“Welcome to our home! You absolutely shouldn’t have,” Casey snatched the bottle from Chris’ hands and gestured towards the living room, “Come in!”

Your trio seemed to be the last people to arrive although you came in at 8 PM sharp. You sat next to Nathalie while exchanging greetings with the rest of the guests, and Casey started serving dinner.

“So Y/N, we never had a chance to speak. What do you do?” she asked while bringing you a bowl of soup, “Besides seducing the entire neighborhood with those looks, I mean.”

“Casey.”

“I’m kidding, Chrissy! Learn to take a joke, christ,” she pseudo-playfully scoffed at her husband and turned to the table with an exaggerated laugh, “Doctors, am I right?”

Well, no, you’re not.

You looked at her with a faint smile, very much aware of what she was trying to do. What she was trying to make you out to be. You responded with as much composure as the docile women of the table possessed.

“I’m a freelance translator.”

“Freelance translator? Does that pay a lot of money?”

“Casey!”

“What?” she looked at Chris, seemingly not following what he was so scandalized over, “I’m just a little surprised that someone is able to pay a mortgage in Sunderland just by freelancing, that’s all.”

So that was how she played, huh? The lead cheerleader of the team, doing and saying whatever the fuck she pleased and no one else besides her husband even dared to tell her to take it down a notch no matter how uncomfortable she made them.

“When you know five languages, it’s easier than you think,” you replied with your smile getting wider, “Do you speak any languages, Casey?”

But she wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to anyone one-upping her in any capacity because god forbid if anyone ever surpassed Casey Bang by the narrowest of margins. There was a collective silent conviction that she would kill everyone in their sleep.

Nevertheless, all she was able to do is to shoot you a blank stare with her lips parted.

“I’ll bring the chicken,” Casey got up to her feet with a defeated smile while you happily munched on the roasted sweet potatoes on your plate. You could swear Chris was a part of Nathalie and Jisung’s silent entertainment bubble watching you throw snark at the prom queen.

Me: 1 — Malibu Barbie-tch: 0

Casey didn’t bother you for the rest of the evening after learning her lesson. Little did she know, these were only basic tutorial sessions and the main lectures were a long way away. As she got engrossed in a very heated debate over this year’s Met Gala looks with her entourage, you silently asked Chris.

“Where’s your restroom?”

“I’ll show you.”

You followed him to the guest bathroom on the second floor. As you were about to go in, Chris stopped you.

“I’m really sorry on her behalf,” he spoke with a genuinely apologetic voice, “She just can’t tolerate any kind of competition.”

“I’m flattered she thinks there’s competition,” you leaned into the doorframe, “but it seems like she can’t tolerate her husband, either.”

That very same caught-off-guard expression as the day in his garage. He looked like he didn’t know what to say.

“It’s– That’s–”

“Trouble in paradise, Chrissy?”

“No, everything’s fine.”

That response was such a knee-jerk reaction that it was obvious he was lying. You took one step towards him and touched his arm.

“How hard did you cum to the thought of me last night?”

He was instantly flushed at your unexpected question.

“I uh– That’s… You– you heard—”

“Not enough. I wanna know what you really sound like,” you took one more step and started talking in whispers, “Not only did I absolutely cum untouched to your voice, I soaked my goddamn mattress listening to you. You’re the sexiest fucking thing, handsome.”

You noticed how he twitched under his pants, and your mouth was watering at his hardening bulge. Your hand started moving by itself as if it had a mind on its own.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Giving you a hand.”

He shuddered at the simple brush of your fingers, and a quiet groan escaped his lips.

“Good god, how long has it been since you’ve been touched?”

“C-Casey’s downstairs.”

“Aren’t you sick and tired of being taken for granted, gorgeous?” you tilted your head and feigned the fakest innocence, “Don’t you wanna be reminded of what a magnificent man you are?”

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. You were literally taking his breath away, paralyzing him with your mere words.

“Someone’s gonna see us,” he spoke very throatily, acutely aware he was already neck-deep in trouble. Yet it wasn’t fear painting his voice.

This excited him.

“So your concern is getting caught.”

You pulled him inside the bathroom in one swift motion and closed the door behind you.

“It’s not that hard to stop me and put an end to this,” you slowly loosened the button of his jeans and halted your movements, “But you want it too, don’t you?”

You weren’t doing anything else, just standing there right in front of him with two of your hands on each side of the sink, trapping Chris in that confined space. He was a man with spectacular physical stamina, so if he wanted to get out, he could easily do so. Any time he wanted. Scold you. Chastise you. Shun you out of his house and tell you to never speak to him again.

But he didn’t.

“You want me,” you quietly spoke against his neck.

“We shouldn’t,” he gulped trying to get a hold of his sanity, but his eyes were closed, “We really shouldn’t.”

It was obvious Chris was sitting for the ultimate test of willpower, and the way he was miserably failing at it was entertaining the shit out of you.

“You hear that faint sound?” you brushed the back of your index finger against his chest and dragged it down, “It’s the rules whispering to us to ignore them.”

He smelled heavenly. Woody. Oceany. Subtlest hints of musk and spice. He smelled like the refreshing breezes of Kirra Point.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” you placed the smallest kiss on his jawline, “But once I touch you, there’s no turning back.”

He couldn’t do it. He did not possess the physical or mental faculties to opt for what he knew was the logical choice. Chris was burning from head to toe, so much so that you could feel the heat waves emitting from his body washing over you. He had resisted so many things in his life up until that moment, but you… A dangerous enchantress. A fearless seductress. An irresistible temptress.

Everybody had a weak spot, and for Chris, it was you. 

“Let me take care of you,” your hand started sliding past his waistband, getting dangerously close to where he needed you the most, “I promise it’ll feel much better than your stroker.”

And once you palmed him, you could fucking swear you both felt that jolt of electricity jumping from skin to skin.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathily cursed through his teeth as his eyes rolled back. You started stroking him with a very languid rhythm.

“God, you’re so hard,” you rested your head on his shoulder, “Bet it feels incredible to sit on.”

He squeezed his eyes tight. Chris was so turned on that he was about to combust. With every flick of your wrist, his breathing escalated like he was sprinting.

“You want me to sit on you, don’t you?” you faced him again, “You’re wondering what it feels like to actually fuck me.”

That was the moment Chris gave up and completely let go.

“Touch me more,” he pulled you closer from your waist while relaxing against the sink, “Don’t– don’t stop.”

You placed his hand on your chest and let him fondle your breasts. He throbbed under your touch at the contact.

“Would you like to fuck me, handsome?” you spoke softly, “You can, you know. You can fuck your troubles away. Take all your frustration out on me.”

It had been so long. Too long since he felt a speck of lust for someone. Someone he knew in person for that matter rather than nameless strangers fucking on camera for a living. Now there you were, utterly drowning him in the depths of desire, pushing his head down underwater just to see for how long he could hold his breath.

And he was fucking loving it.

“You are so handsome, you know that right?” you filled your lungs with his scent, “You’re just so… so… so sexy.”

You calling him those names was killing him. He couldn’t open his eyes. If he did, one look at your face and he was going to violently erupt. He wanted to relish this stolen feeling for as long as he could. Melt under your touch. Feel himself get out of his own body. Of his reality. Of this burdensome life. 

With you.

“You wanna know what it feels like inside me?” you lightly chuckled, “It feels really warm. Really really wet, too.”

“Faster.”

“And so tight,” you gently squeezed him, “If I clench once, you’ll fucking finish five seconds in.”

“Fucking god, I’m– I’m gonna cum.”

You freed yourself from his grip and shoved his leaking cock down your throat, quietly humming to provide little vibrations for a more brutal orgasm. Chris came so hard that he had to grab the hand towel nearby and scream into it. It was everything he had imagined and more. Savagely thrilling. Scorching hot. Mindnumbingly delicious.

“You taste fucking amazing, handsome,” you wiped your mouth and placed a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose, “Gather your wits. Then come back downstairs.”

You washed your hands and left Chris in the bathroom to collect himself. When you made your way back, you were instantly subjected to Casey’s interrogation.

“There you are! Where did you run off to?”

“I was trying to find where your safe is. You know, to pay my mortgage,” you looked at the rest of the table with a smile, “Can I have some more wine, please?”

Not too long after, Chris also returned to the table, basically floating on air in utter bliss.

“Everything okay, honey?”

“Yeah, um– Work,” he flashed his phone from his back pocket.

You decided to use the moment to give Casey a taste of her own medicine and started bombarding her with questions like a stress interview.

“So, Casey where did you graduate from?”

“Yale.”

“Class of?”

“2010.”

“What did you major in?”

“English. What is up with the interrogation, though, am I right?” she laughed a little nervously.

“No reason,” you took a sip from your wine, “I just think you’re an incredible woman.”

She pressed her hand on her chest with somewhat of a moved look on her face, “Aw, thank you.”

You and Nathalie exchanged a brief knowing look and returned to your fruit parfaits.

“Thank you very much for tonight,” you thanked Casey as they were seeing you off and then spoke directly addressing Chris, “Everything was excellent.”

Several question marks had already formed in your head about Casey and that night was just the salt and pepper on top of everything. It was pretty late already, but this couldn’t wait. The second you got back home, you grabbed your phone and called Minho.

“What do you want?”

“What’s up fuckface? I missed you too,” you exchanged your usual greeting with him.

“This better be important. Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby, I can still keep fucking you.”

“Minho, am I legit interrupting a dicking down session right now?”

“If you don’t start talking, I’m hanging up. Oh, fuck yeah, just like that.”

“Ugh, fine. I need intel,” you managed to suppress your nausea, “Get me everything you can about all the Caseys who graduated from Yale in 2010.”

“There are twenty-three variants to that name. Text me the correct spelling. That’s it, baby, take it.”

“Oh my god, fine, just don’t cum when I’m on the phone!”

“As if you haven’t done that before. Fuck, don’t stop!”

“Don’t be gross. Get back to me as soon as you can.”

“OH, GOD, YES!!!”

You threw your phone on the coffee table and yourself on the couch, watching the ceiling for some time while replaying the entire night in your head.

You’re hiding something, Malibu Barbie, and I will find out what it is.

«TO BE CONTINUED»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

Meet the horniest Chris I've created to date. You're welcome. Sound ref: moon xx (several sources retrieved and compiled from creator's public content)

If you enjoyed this story, feel free to share your thoughts with me in reblogs, tags, or in my inbox. As long as you're kind, that is.

-R. (CB97%)

📢Regarding tagging: Please do not ask me to tag you if you won't be meaningfully engaging with my work. Additionally, I do not tag ageless and/or blank blogs, nor can I tag you if your blog is listed as "invisible" / if you've changed your URL and didn't let me know. Thank you for your cooperation in advance!

🔖Story taglist: @gabbunnyy ; @arashihiss ; @ayoitschannie ; @lalal-99

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『paradise lost』

series mlist ｡

↳ A story of two people navigating life & love; the good, the bad, and the very, very ugly.

『 pairing 』 : kim hongjoong x fem!reader (other pairings per chapter)

『 genre 』 : friends to lovers, romance, heavy angst, explicit sexual content.

『 warnings (vary per chapter) 』 : heavy angst, drama, very bad decision making, selfish behaviors, substance use and abuse, language.

ꕥ 01: do you ever wonder?

ꕥ 02: passion

ꕥ 03: comfortably familiar

ꕥ 04: misplaced bitterness

ꕥ 05: pull the trigger

ꕥ 06: the words unspoken

ꕥ 07: nobody has to know

ꕥ 08: annihilation

ꕥ 09: compliance

ꕥ 10: chasing

↳ before the story…

ꕥ 05.5: the pros and cons of breathing

pairing: kim hongjoong x jung wooyoung

↳ after the story…

ꕥ interview with the littérateur:

pairing: kim hongjoong x journalist fem!reader

↳ non-canon spin-off…

ꕥ bad for the soul: 

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

this is a remaster. coming soon! ♡

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