REPLAY: Connected

REPLAY: Connected

REPLAY Masterlist | w/c: 4.8k | Bang Chan x Reader

warnings: exes to lovers, angst, food, anxiety, breakup (recollection), reconciliation, use of petnames (it's Chan, of course there's gonna be some "babygirl" sprinkled in), a lil swearing

synopsis:

The boy next door had been your first everything. First love, first kiss, first time making love.

And your first heartbreak.

Visiting home for the holidays and seeing his house next door never failed to stir up memories of your relationship. Whether by luck or sheer happenstance, he hadn't made it home since the two of you set off for your respective universities.

So why, for the first time in nearly four years, had he shown up now?

permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts

“All that I want is you, even if I’m a fool.”

It was Christmas Eve, and being back in your hometown for the holidays never failed to remind you of how much you missed two things.

Your mother’s baking and your highschool sweetheart - Christopher Bang. 

It was impossible to ignore either of them as you approached the bright red door of the house you grew up in, having to walk through the shadow cast by the Bang family home to knock on your own as the comforting scent of sweets wafted out through a barely-open window.

It was that smell alone that kept the incessant ache thoughts of Chris always put in your heart from becoming unbearable.

Your hand hadn’t even reached the doorbell before the door swung open, revealing your mother’s shining grin. Eyes that matched your own sparkled with joy as she grabbed your hand and pulled you inside. You laughed softly at her excitement, feeling your entire body relax as you were welcomed home.

“It’s good to see you, too, mom,” you teased as you were pulled into a ridiculously tight hug. 

“Hush, I’m allowed to miss my own child,” she tutted before releasing you with a smile, pulling the door shut to keep out the chill. 

“I missed you, too,” you admitted, slipping out of your jacket and hanging it over one of the many hooks protruding from the wall.

“Come, now, help me with the cookies and tell me about your classes,” You barely registered your mother’s words before hand was once again grabbed, your body being pulled behind her own, bringing you to laugh once more as she led you to the kitchen.

As per usual for this time of year, the kitchen was cluttered with different containers - all filled to the brim with various candies and cookies. As you crossed the threshold, you wished you could bottle up the fragrance in the air. This was what home smelled like.

You washed your hands before reaching into a bowl of rich-smelling dough, following your mother’s patient instructions as you rolled it into spheres and set them neatly on a baking sheet. As per her request, you launched into the highlights of your most recent semester of college. 

You spared her the more mundane details, though you knew she’d just as happily listen if you hadn’t, continuing to space the balls of dough evenly on the tray. Save for a few hums to confirm she was in fact listening, your mother stood quietly - hands busy in a bowl filled with ingredients, presumably to give you more to do.

You were in the midst of recounting a particularly amusing moment you’d shared with your roommate when the doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts and your mother from her task. She flipped on the faucet and rinsed her hands clean, drying them against her apron before giving you an apologetic smile.

“Be right back, just keep rolling!” she chirped, heading for the front door. 

You simply nodded, unbothered by the interruption. After your mother had brought her cookies to a community potluck your first year here, it had become something of a tradition for your neighbors to swing by on Christmas Eve for a few treats. 

You heard two sets of footsteps making their way towards you and readied yourself to greet whichever neighbor had stopped in, looking up at the doorway just in time to catch your mother guiding none other than Mrs. Bang towards you.

You locked eyes with Chris’ mother and smiled. Despite the unresolved feelings you had for her son, Mrs. Bang had always been nothing short of kind towards you. She radiated the same warmth as your own mother, approaching you with a fond twinkle in her eye.

“Hey, Mrs. Bang,” you greeted her first, only serving to brighten her expression further. She beamed as she arrived at your side, putting her arm around your shoulders and squeezing so as not to pull you from the job your mother had assigned you.

“It’s good to see you, dear,” she sweetly hummed, releasing you to grab a box of goodies from your mother. The two women were exchanging small talk, most of which you tuned out until Mrs. Bang called your name. 

You placed the last piece of dough onto the sheet before looking up, brows raised as you waited for her to continue.

“Your mother was telling me you’re graduating this spring,” she began, a look of pride on her face as she addressed you, “Do you have any plans?”

You nodded, before walking over to the sink and washing your hands, drying them while you spoke, “Yeah, I’ve actually got a position waiting for me after I get my degree, I’m actually–” you stifled a smirk at your mother’s boastful grin behind Mrs. Bang before she interrupted you.

“My baby is moving back to town in just four short months!” You couldn’t even be mad at her for stealing your announcement as she bounced on her toes excitedly. You hadn’t seen your mother so happy since you’d gotten your acceptance letter for your first choice university.

Mrs. Bang’s brows shot up, “Really? How wonderful!” she crooned, a genuine smile blossoming across her face, “You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime, then,” she continued, “Just like the good old days!”

You nodded, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, “Of course,” you agreed, keeping your expression neutral in front of the maternal pair despite the painful realization of the main difference between a dinner with the Bangs then versus now.

Christopher was your boyfriend back then.

Your mother was completely oblivious to the spontaneous heaviness you felt in the air around you, continuing to speak with Mrs. Bang animatedly.

“Speaking of dinner, were you still planning on joining us tomorrow?”

This was normal between your two families, hosting the other for the holidays. Especially after you and Chris had both gone off to your respective schools - sometimes unable to make it back. It was actually pretty cute, the two mothers commiserating over the lack of their children being home for Christmas. 

You tried not to worry like you had during previous years. Despite your anxiety over the possibility, Christopher hadn’t made it home for any of these dinners so far, his work ethic somehow managing to beat out the considerable love you knew he held for his family. 

His final year at school would be a strange time to choose to change that, wouldn’t it?

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it!” Mrs. Bang responded kindly, “Though I should probably get home to prepare the dishes I’ll be bringing. Thank you for the sweets, as always.” She gave a polite bow to your mother, who simply waved her hand as if her thanks were absolutely unnecessary - walking her to the door and shouting pleasant goodbyes after her.

You spent the rest of the afternoon assisting your mother with the baking, grateful that she’d taken over most of the talking whilst your mind was brimming with thoughts of Christopher. She seemed to be more than content with your silence, likely figuring you were simply being attentive, as she filled you in on what you’d missed around town.

Before long, evening had come. The conversations with your mother all seemed to blur together, even throughout the meal you’d shared, due to the overdrive your brain had been thrust into following the reminder of Christmas dinner. 

You found yourself sitting on the edge of your bed in your childhood room, staring at the walls that your younger self had insisted be painted pink. Everything was just as you’d left it, from the patchwork comforter atop your mattress to the now-dust ridden yearbook on your nightstand. 

You wished you didn’t remember why it wasn’t amongst the other keepsakes - in a box on the top shelf of your closet. You wished you’d put it away on one of your prior visits, rather than leaving it untouched on the nightstand for nearly four years. 

You weren’t sure why you hadn’t put it away before leaving for college in the first place, nor why you hadn’t during any of your subsequent visits. All you really knew was that the mere thought of hiding it away felt wrong - felt final.

Considering the events that led you to seek solace in its pages, you supposed the way you felt was perfectly reasonable.

You had been so excited to meet up with your then-boyfriend that night. You’d just returned from touring campus and couldn’t wait to tell him all about it. Christopher had seemed a little off ever since you’d told him about your acceptance letter, but - at the time - you’d just assumed it was nerves as he waited for his own.

It wasn’t until you finally met up in his backyard, running to plant a kiss that he didn’t fully give back, that you realized it was much, much deeper than that.

“What’s wrong?” you’d immediately asked, though a gnawing sensation in the depths of your gut made you feel certain you already knew.

Sometimes you hated being right.

“Babygirl,” he’d started, running a hand through his curls before looking into your eyes - his own holding a look that could only be described as heartfelt sorrow. He chewed on his lip rather than saying anything more, averting his gaze to an undefined spot in the grass.

Your heart sank. Chris only ever messed with his hair when he was tense. You knew instantly - this was serious.

“Chris, what is it?” you urged, the smile you’d worn upon first seeing him instantly dropping, “You’re scaring me.”

“I got in.”

It was a simple sentence, though there wasn’t a single tinge of celebratory joy involved. He said it like it was a death sentence, still refusing to meet your increasingly intense stare.

“What? Chris, that’s amazing! Why are you –” you’d been midway through congratulating him when his head shot back up, his now-watery eyes locking onto yours.

“I got into Yonsei.”

“I thought you were going to apply for–” he’d cut you off again, then - the initial sadness you’d seen in his eyes only intensifying.

“Baby, I did. I didn’t make it,” his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, tonguing his cheek.

Your heart froze then at the dots connected themselves in your mind. You scrambled for something - anything - that could convince him that this was okay. That the two of you could handle being apart. That this could just be a roadblock, not the end.

Regardless of how hard you tried to come up with the words you’d needed to comfort him, to assure him that it was all going to be okay, there was nothing.

You sat there with him, dumbfounded and quiet for a while. Neither of you wanted to break the tension, but your lips still parted to make way for the hardest question you’d ever had to ask.

“Chris, are you leaving me?”

He didn’t say a word, his eyes simply welling with tears.

Sometimes, it seemed, silence was very, very loud.

Your throat began to tighten, breaths coming in shorter and shorter gasps as you stared at him - looking for any sign that this was all some shitty, cruel joke that he somehow found amusing. His stone-faced demeanor, however, did not change.

Of course, he wasn’t kidding.

Chris had never been the type to joke like that. To hurt you for amusement.

“Don’t you love me?” you stammered out, stifling a sob.

He finally looked up then, pooling tears in his eyes only serving to make his shocked expression look completely terrified.

“Of course I do,” he breathed, his voice breaking as he ran his hand through his messy curls.

“Then don’t do this,” you begged, barely audible after being blindsided - by his news, by the possibility of losing him.

He didn’t speak then - nor did he have to. Lower lip trembling, eyes still fixated on you as he stood from his spot. You could see all you needed to written on his face - this was it. It was over.

Wordlessly, he’d leaned down and pressed a prolonged kiss to the top of your head. As he pulled back, eyes downcast as he simply stood at your side, you fought to maintain any semblance of composure. It wasn’t until he finally turned around, retreating back inside of his home, that your legs moved on your behalf to bring your shell-shocked frame through your front door.

Mother wasn’t home - which, now that you thought about it, was probably for the best - leaving you to your own devices as grief threatened to swallow you whole. You cried for a long while, clutching your pillow against your chest as though it could somehow soften the hammering of your heart.

Now, glancing at the neglected cover of that yearbook, you felt just as small and broken as you did that night - when you’d finally stopped crying and flipped through its pages last. You were sure there were tearstains on the page you’d stopped on, despite not having revisited it throughout these years. 

The page where the two of you, clad in your prom attire, were dancing behind the perfectly posed King and Queen. Despite not being the subject matter, it had quickly become your favorite photo - bright smiles as you swayed clumsily in each other’s arms radiating joy.

Radiating love.

You forcefully shook yourself from these recollections, pushing them back in the name of keeping your sanity as you laid flat on the bed. Turning your back to the yearbook, you pulled the blanket over your body and shut your eyes to get a good night’s rest for Christmas.

You were going to need it.

The air smelled of honeyed ham and spiced fruits when you'd opened your eyes the next morning. 

You were watching your mother scuttle about the kitchen, humming her favorite carols whilst juggling three separate dishes, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from twitching upwards. Cocoa in hand, tree sparkling with multicolored lights, you finally felt it. 

This was Christmas. This was home.

Your mood couldn’t be dampened by anything, not even the painful memories you’d recalled the night prior. So, of course, you readily agreed when your mother asked you to run to the grocery store - just as was typical of her during the holiday fuss, there were a few things she’d forgotten to grab.

After bundling up, the walk itself was a quick trip, save for a brief conversation after the cashier recognized you from your youth. The chilled breeze didn’t bother you as it nipped at your cheeks. It, alongside a few stray snowflakes dancing around in the air, simply served to bring you peace.

Because this was Christmas. This was home.

You arrived back home, kicking the door with the toe of your boot in lieu of knocking. You tightened your grip on the handles of the bags, exhaling a held breath in a puff of steam whilst waiting for that bright red door to open. 

As it did, warmth and the aromas of dinner tickled your senses, “They were out of–,” you were cut off by what felt like a punch in the gut. You forgot the remainder of your sentence, jaw dropping as your words caught in your throat - an ineloquent squeak leaving your parted lips as you stared ahead.

There wasn’t much point in continuing what you were going to say, had the thought not been shocked out of you, considering that the face you were met with wasn’t your mother.

Christopher Bang - though looking much more grown up and mature than he had upon your last meeting - was standing in the entryway of your family home, staring at you as if he’d seen a ghost.

Much like your last encounter, neither of you spoke, opting instead to gawk at the other - blinking rapidly. You’d considered what you’d say to him, had the chance ever arisen. Much like the sentence you’d begun, however, it too had been erased from your mind the moment your eyes met his.

Once again, silence was very, very loud.

Based upon the unsteady tremble you could see interrupting the rise and fall of his shoulders - far broader than they’d been before - as he breathed, perhaps Chris was feeling precisely the same way.

He looked very much the same, Chris…yet somehow completely different. 

His messy curls had been cut shorter, pushed back out of his face in a much sleeker look than you’d remembered. He’d learned to take care of them, you noticed, as he ran his hand through now-defined ringlets - just as he’d always done whilst nervous. His eyes, though wide with astonishment, were still warm and trustworthy. Perhaps even more than they had been before, with the beginnings of smile lines at their sides he’d earned throughout the years.

His clenched jaw was stronger, more defined, as he parted his lips in an attempt to speak. Those lips, the very same ones you’d felt against your own countless times, were still just as perfect as they had been. Rounded and pink, open just enough for you to see the tips of his teeth behind them. 

“Get in here, honey! You’re letting in the chill!” your mother scolded from the kitchen, peering through the doorway. She seemed completely ignorant to the palpable tension between the two of you, acting just as she would had your world not been flipped upside-down.

God, how you wished you could be as clueless as she was right now - staring into the chocolatey pools of Christopher’s eyes, catching the very moment he came back down to earth. He stepped aside then, turning his attention to the floor as you crossed the threshold.

The delicious scents in the air no longer felt comforting, smothering you as your throat tightened. Despite speeding past Chris, you still managed to catch a whiff of the same cologne he’d worn while you were together.

The same one you’d bought him, though certainly a new bottle.

You swallowed hard as you beelined for the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter before mumbling something akin to, “No problem,” as your mother broke her conversation with Mrs. Bang to thank you. 

There wasn’t a single thought in your mind that wasn’t screaming at you to run away. Screaming at you to distance yourself as much as possible. Screaming at you to go and collect yourself before dinner, to collect yourself enough to plaster on a smile until the Bang’s went home.

It was impossible to ignore. It was so very loud.

Following your instincts, you darted up the stairs. A breath you didn’t know you were holding shuddered out as you stepped into your bedroom - closing the door just as an uncomfortable heat pricked at your eyes. 

You cursed under your breath as you swiped furiously at the sudden onslaught of tears, hoping that it wouldn’t be too noticeable to the matriarchs when you’d eventually have to show yourself. 

Why was he here? Why couldn’t he have just not made it like he hadn’t for three years? Why now, after all of this time, had he made it home?

It felt unfair, like some sort of cosmic joke. It felt surreal, like a horrible dream. It felt sharp, like a brand being seared into your chest.

And damn, did it hurt.

For the second time in your life you found yourself with your back against your headboard, pillow clutched to your chest, crying over Christopher.

A knock on your door pulled you from your wallowing, rushing you into wiping your eyes.

“Yeah?” you called, praying you didn’t sound as pathetic as you felt. 

Considering you hadn’t been keeping track of time during the outpouring of emotion, you figured it was your mother, letting you know dinner was ready.

So, when you heard your name called in a silky, baritone voice, you instantly froze.

“Can I come in?” Chris sounded so gentle when he asked, so warm. You could sense a certain caution in his tone, as though he’d break you if he spoke too loudly. Your prolonged silence didn’t go unnoticed, as an even smaller, “Please?” met your ears.

You considered saying nothing - God, did you want to just sit there quietly and hope he gave up.

But something about how the word had left his lips felt sacrilegious to ignore.

You shuffled to the door, pulling it open slowly. You could feel his eyes boring into you, certain he was wearing that same look of wistful sadness from that day - the day it ended - without even looking. You met his eyes as you stepped aside, proving your suspicions true. 

Chris gave you a nod of thanks as he joined you in the room, still watching you with concern as you slowly shut the door before sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t follow you, remaining standing by the closed door. 

Once it became obvious that you weren’t going to fill the quiet first, he tentatively spoke. It was laughable how casual his choice of words were - or, it would’ve been had you not felt so overwhelmed.

“Hey.”

You simply looked at him, chewing on your lower lip. Words, even had you wanted any, wouldn’t have come to you in this moment. Not even the deepest corners of your imagination could’ve prepared you for seeing Christopher again.

“So,” he started again, sighing deeply, “Your mom says you’re moving back?” 

Small talk had never really been his forte. He sounded awkward, almost forced behind the calm exterior.

You nodded in response, leading him to continue. “So am I,” he started, running slender fingers through his dark hair. Something was on his mind, it was obvious in the way his eyes were clouded. He wasn’t saying everything he wanted to. Even after all this time, you could tell. 

You could always tell.

You found your voice, though it was shaky and roughened with emotion, “What is it Chris?” You hadn’t meant to sound as short with him as you had, noticing his shoulders stiffen a bit at your tone.

“We’ll be seeing each other around, y’know?” he started, still messing about with his curls, “We’ll have to be able to handle that.” 

He was right. You might not want to admit it - especially right now, to his face - but he was right. You looked away, taking a deep and unsteady breath.

“I know you don’t want to see me,” Chris carried on, sounding smaller and smaller the longer he spoke, “And I get that, I really do. I mean, I’d hate me, too if –”

“I don’t hate you,” you cut him off, looking back up to meet his eyes. He looked perplexed, brows furrowing together at your sudden proclamation. 

“You don’t?” 

“I wanted to, trust me,” a humorless laugh accompanied your words, “It would be so much easier to hate you, Christopher.”

Your name fell from his lips in a stunned whisper, laced with pain as he slowly made his way towards you. He gave you every opportunity to tell him to get back, precise and patient steps approaching your bedside. You felt the bed sink next to you as he joined you, a softness in his eyes as they met yours.

“Then…why didn’t you ever reach out?” he murmured, visibly confused, “I tried to call you a few times. I stopped when you never answered.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you left me, Chris,” you reminded him, frowning, “I was hurt.” The guilt eating away at you brought anger to your tone. 

You were right, he’d been the one to break things off. Why should you feel bad for not answering his calls?

Christopher’s features fell as he hung his head - it seemed that he knew you were right, too. He wore his shame plainly, from his hunched shoulders to the remorse in his eyes when he finally looked back at you.

“I didn’t forget,” he whispered thickly, his stare feeling like it made it’s way completely through to your soul, “How could I? It’s my biggest regret.”

You were speechless. Had you heard him correctly? The whooshing of your quickened pulse echoing in your ears was making you feel dizzy as you gaped at him, trying to process the gravity of what he’d just said.

“I was scared,” he admitted to you, still looking at you just as tenderly despite what must’ve been a wild expression on your face, “I was a scared and stupid kid, who’d just found out he couldn’t go to college with his girlfriend.”

“Scared of what?” you breathed out, brows knitting together as you tried to process all of this new information about your breakup. He hadn’t told you why, before. You hadn’t asked, either, though.

“Of the distance being too much,” Chris took a deep breath, “and you leaving me first,” he admitted earnestly, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes became glassy.

“Chris…”

“You were the best thing in my life,” he continued, despite your attempt to cut him off, “Since we’ve been apart, nothing has felt right. Even good moments are just–”

“Incomplete?” You finished for him, knowing the feeling he was describing perfectly. 

He nodded, a dimple appearing in his cheek as he gave you a half-smile, “Exactly, yeah,” he ran his slender digits through his ringlets again, biting his lip as he looked away. 

“What is it?” you prompted, immediately recognizing his mannerisms once more.

“I miss you,” he blurted, his cheeks suddenly matching the pink of his lips. He had his eyes squeezed shut tight, as if he were completely terrified. Your heart melted at the sight, though you held your tongue to allow him time to continue. 

“I miss you, and I know it’s my own fault,” he sniffled between his words, finally looking at you - eyes brimming with tears, “but God that doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t stopped thinking about you for four years.”

“Chris–” you began, only to be spoken over.

“I know it’s not fair to you that I’m saying this, and I know that it’s absolutely crazy of me to think you’d even consider me an option anymore,” he continued to ramble, breezing straight past your attempt to cut him off.

“Christopher–” despite your attempt, the words just kept bubbling forth from his lips.

“I mean, how could I expect you to want anything at all to do with me? That’s stupid, I’m–”

“Chris!” He stopped then, flushing an even darker shade at the realization that he’d been monologuing. 

“If missing you back is stupid, then I guess I’m an idiot.”

Christopher’s eyes widened as your words registered, his lips parting in surprise before blooming into a full, beautiful smile. 

Your expression mirrored his, slowly morphing into a hopeful grin as he leaned in closer, placing a gentle hand against your flushed cheek.

“Wanna be idiots together, then, babygirl?” he breathed, warm breath delightfully tickling your skin as he drew even nearer.

In lieu of an answer, you closed the minute distance between your faces, crashing your lips desperately onto his. 

It was as if you’d never been apart, lips instinctually moving against each other in a beautiful and familiar dance. There was nothing but Chris at that moment - the scent of dinner gone, replaced simply by his cologne. His presence that you’d once dreaded had led you into contentment - his fingers trailing through your hair this time.

This was home. This was Christmas.

You’d have been content to never break that kiss, to perpetuate that moment for the rest of your life, had a soft knock at the door not interrupted.

“Dinner’s ready!” your mother sang from outside, the sound of her footsteps slowly trailing away. 

You smiled gently at Chris’ hand suddenly engulfing yours, standing first to help you to your feet. He didn’t let go, his fingers still able to lace so naturally with yours, as the two of you made your way to the dining room. 

Christopher sat at your side, casting you fond looks through the meal’s entirety. You stole glances at him whenever you could, as if trying to re-memorize his age-refined features. He’d catch you on occasion, smirking before shooting you a wink. Your face would flush, sudden shyness forcing you to look away - though you couldn’t help but keep studying him as soon as your cheeks cooled off.

You were so enraptured in each other that you didn’t notice the pair of satisfied smirks your mothers shared from across the table - so enamored that you didn’t notice their purposeful exclusion of the two of you from conversation, allowing you to continue your nonverbal exchange of affection uninterrupted.

You helped Christopher gather up the dishes, unable to contain your own smile as Chris graced you with a bright, dimpled one of his own - following your mother to the kitchen to help her clean up.

From the moment you’d left your bedroom, the two of you hadn’t exchanged a single word. 

You didn’t need to, though.

Sometimes silence is very, very loud.

Sometimes, silence screams I love you.

hugs with him

♡ pairing : boyfriend!chan x reader

♡ genre : fluff

♡ warnings : kissing

♡ word count : 0.3k

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Feedback & reblogs are highly appreciated!

Hugs with Chan feel safe, no matter what kind of hug it is, he always gives the best hugs.

When he wakes up in the morning next to your sleeping figure, he would wrap his muscular arms around you and pull you closer to him, burying his face in the crook between your shoulder and neck. He would breathe in your scent and relax immediately, all his worries disappearing.

Or when he comes back home after a long day at work. His arms would be wide open from the moment he enters the apartment. Chan would hug you and kiss your temple every single time he leaves the apartment, but especially when he comes back home, his excuse being "your hugs give me energy to take my shoes off."

Or the days when he feels like the universe is against him. You would be minding your own business washing the dishes when a wild Chan would appear behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He would never miss a chance to shower you with kisses either. Starting from your neck to your cheeks and finally a long, but loving kiss to your lips. You are the only person who can make him feel better on a bad day.

Or hugs when he comes back from tour, the best hugs in his opinion. He misses you the moment he steps foot at the airport, but he misses you even more when he gets on the plane and leaves for a few days or even months. He wishes he was able to take you with him and travel the world with you, but unfortunately he is unable to. So the moment he sees you after coming back from tour, his eyes would tear up and his arms would be tightly wrapped around your body. Chan would feel his body relax and fill up with energy.

"I love you, Yn!"

list : @seungly @staykkk @yaelx @qnjayn @gold-dragon-slayer @starlostseungmin @bluechans @starshine-moon @lachinitaaaaa @comet-falls @lix-ables @l0veph0bia @snow-pegasus @crispybangchannie @bakugossanity @l3visbby @chrispychans @hyunverse @cherry-0420 @minhosify @strayluvr @strayingawayy @bbujiikseu @hyunjinswifeee @linoboop @straystaychan @cxentrxcks @adorehwang @alyszaen @minholvly @svintsandghosts @aaliyahxsx @seraphicsolitude @hyunluvxo @cleverbasementhideout-blog @lvmazzy @meln25 @beautifulgashinaxxxi @notastraykid

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21 - ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪꜱᴍ -

ꜱᴀɴ/ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴀ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

pairing: pornstar! wooyoung x pornstar! reader (fem) x older pornstar! san

summary: you star in the tenth installment of “Stepdad Fucks Stepson’s Slutty Girlfriend.”

w.c: 3.3k

warnings: aged up! san, hard dom! san, dom! wooyoung, sub! reader, there’s a whole stepdad/stepson theme that’s alluded to but it’s a porn setting so it’s not actually real, daddy kink, pet names, name calling, voyeurism, oral (receiving), squirting, two spanks, humiliation (m receiving), unprotected sex, cumshot

a/n: dilf pornstar san <3 that's it. that's my entire note <3 also yes this is just me simping over san for an hour straight leave me aloneeee

FFF Masterlist

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On your way to your next shoot, you sat in the backseat of your driver’s car, staring off into space. It wasn’t until you felt your phone vibrate on your lap that you looked down at it, reading the text you received from the intern at the company you worked for. They sent you a link to the script, which you promptly opened. They usually just consisted of a really vague explanation of scenes, along with some basic dialogue. It was relatively easy to remember. Reading the small text on the first page, you realized that you’d be working with someone else besides your friend and coworker Wooyoung. It was Choi San. The Choi San. Not only was he aging like the finest wine available at a Michelin restaurant, he was quite the celebrity in the industry, known mainly for his stamina, his ability to stay hard for a prolonged amount of time, and the thing that initially got him noticed back in the 80s — his ability to pump out endless cumshots. Despite being older, he was still able to keep up with the younger men and even surpass them, able to work for hours with few breaks in between, and always having a lot of enthusiasm. Needless to say, he was a very, very busy man.

“Hey, Woo,” you spoke, turning your head to look at your coworker sitting in the seat beside you, admiring his shiny dark brown hair, watching it bounce slightly as the car drove over a particularly rough road. “Did you know we’re working with Choi San? He’s going to wreck us!”

“He’s going to wreck you. It’s a straight person porn.” Wooyoung looked up from the game he was playing on his phone, blowing a bubble with the strawberry gum he was chewing. “And yeah, they told us before we got in the car back at the studio. Were you not listening?”

“I mean, I heard that we’re playing a couple that gets caught or whatever...” You pursed your glossy lips, idly watching Wooyoung continue to play an RPG game you weren’t familiar with, before gasping, “Oh my god, is San going to play the step dad role? That’s actually everything.”

Wooyoung paused the game, unable to focus on the battle that was taking place on the screen. “Y/N,” he started with an attitude, brushing a bit of perfectly-styled hair out of his line of sight. “Do you even watch his films? He always plays the step dad.”

“Not always.” You sucked your teeth, your lips forming a slight pout. “He’s done a ton of solo stuff. And I also saw one where he played a professor cheating on his wife.”

Wooyoung chuckled softly, reaching over to ruffle your hair, not wanting you to get pouty because you were upset. He’d rather see you be like that when you were begging for cock onset. “You’re right, Y/N. My bad…though in that one the husband was cheating on the wife with his stepdaughter.”

“Oh, yeah…” You looked down at Wooyoung’s hand when he lowered it to hold his phone again, your eyes slowly following a prominent vein that tracked up his forearm and eventually branched off in different directions, feeling a very familiar twinge of heat form inside your core. “Are you more excited about working with me or San?”

He didn’t bother looking up from his game, answering right away, “San.” In turn, you made a tiny hmph sound, unconsciously folding your arms across your chest.

Wooyoung smiled to himself, tapping and swiping his phone screen to wear down the enemy in his game, until he won. After emitting a small ‘yes’, he glanced over at you. “Come on, Y/N. I’m just kidding.”

“You’re not funny,” you mumbled in a pouty voice, suddenly caught off guard when he grabbed your chin and pulled you in closer. “What?”

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, gazing at you with half-closed eyes, the tip of his tongue swiping near the beauty mark on his lower lip. “You don’t ask that every time we film with someone else, you know. The answer’s always you." Seeing your sheepish smile made his heart melt, though he had to be honest this time around. "But I think it might actually be San this time. I mean, just look at him," he sighed, already playing one of the man's latest films on his phone, sighing longingly at the sight of San pounding himself into a guy's ass, while his fingers were buried inside a woman's cunt.

"Wooyoung!" you whined, pushing on his shoulder. You stared at the clip, studying his intense lust-filled facial expressions, and admiring the way he just kept going and going, not showing any signs of exhaustion. "No, you're right. I'm with you on this."

Wooyoung smirked, leaning his head on your shoulder. "Thought so."

-

San was even more attractive in person. His angular face and sharp, chiseled jaw distracted you first, especially his Adam’s apple, watching it bob up and down as he took a few drinks from a water bottle. A few drops trickled down his freckled neck, disappearing inside his plain white button-up shirt. The one that was clinging to his broad upper body and becoming a little loose near his slim waist, though his Gucci belt kept it tucked in. He was expensive, and he didn't mind if everyone knew it, too. In fact, he preferred it when eyes were on him.

Wooyoung stood near you, sipping on a Red Bull through a bendy straw. “Y/N, are you just going to stare at him like that, or say hi?”

You put a hand up in front of his face, murmuring, “Shhh, I’m concentrating.” You were, to be fair, but you were also thinking about all the ways San could probably destroy you.

Zoning back in on the man, you focused on his striking dark eyes that gazed intensely through a pair of sleek black glasses at someone in the film crew that was speaking to him. Jesus, he was fine. You licked your lips at the sight of the crow’s feet that appeared underneath San’s eyes when he smiled at them. You needed him inside you sooner rather than later.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t watch this anymore,” Wooyoung announced exasperatedly, walking past you and up to San when he was done talking, tucking some hair behind his ear and pushing on the older man’s chest. After a few moments, he motioned to you and beckoned you in their direction.

San greeted you with a warm smile, holding his hand out to shake yours. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Wooyoung, Miss Y/N.”

“Oh, did you now?” you returned, giggling softly, placing a hand on your hip and trying not to smile too hard back. “What’d you hear about me?”

The man’s once friendly eyes darkened in front of you, his tongue rubbing over his bottom lip. “I heard you squirt a lot. I really want to see.” The polite image he portrayed just a second ago disappeared all together. It was so jarring that it made your knees feel a bit weak. “You’ll let me see that, won’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded almost right away, not even noticing that you were starting to drool when Wooyoung put an arm around you and quickly wiped it away with his thumb, distracting San when he asked, “Is it true that you once came for 2 minutes straight?”

-

Once someone counted down from five and gave you all the thumbs up, the camera framed the shot, capturing you and Wooyoung sitting on a leather couch in a living room, pretending to watch the tv playing an old football game. San sat in a recliner with an empty beer in his hand, not able to see the two of you unless he turned his head back.

With his arm around you, Wooyoung began to slowly pull down the thin strap of your tank top. “Baby, I’m so horny,” he complained, glancing down at your tits, idly flicking one of your nipples to make it stiff.

“Your stepdad’s right there…” You feigned embarrassment, pushing his hand away, only for him to position you so that you were sitting against his chest with the two of his hands working on your tits, kneading then in circles and rubbing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. “Babyyyy, he’s going to hear us…”

Wooyoung pressed his lips to your ear, whispering loud enough that the boom mic captured his low voice, “He’ll only hear if you’re too loud, baby.” He slipped one hand into your loose non-existent athletic shorts, rubbing circles around your clit, his other hand pushing up underneath your tank top to grab at your tit directly, continuing to tweak your nipple. Delighted by your small, breathy moans, he rubbed his fingers up and down your dripping cunt, his fingers teasing your hole. “Mm, you’re so wet…”

Soon enough, Wooyoung was on his knees with his face in between your legs, three fingers deep in your cunt, and slurping on your clit like it was his life mission. The cameraman positioned himself in front of San, who was watching the both of you over his shoulder and fisting his cock, still able to capture the two of you behind him.

“It’s so good, baby,” you panted out, going between gazing down at Wooyoung and San, making sure not to acknowledge the camera at all. You fucked yourself on Wooyoung’s slender fingers the best you could, sinking further and further down the couch cushion behind you, your shorts hanging off one of your ankles and your top rolled up over your tits, all while panting and moaning like a bitch in heat.

“Cum, baby, come on, you can do it,” Wooyoung encouraged in a muffled voice, dragging his tongue up and down your pulsing clit, rubbing your g-spot in just the right way to make your hips stutter and your moans to raise in pitch. As soon as your warm arousal began to drip out, he moved his fingers rapidly across your clit instead, shoving his tongue inside you to fuck the cum out of you. “That’s it, that’s it, baby. Good girl. Gooood girl.”

Your coworker’s praise caused you to barrel over the edge, your orgasm so intense you let out a desperate, almost sob-like cry, seeing stars. You painted Wooyoung’s mouth and face with your squirt, some of the tiny clear droplets hanging onto his long lashes.

“You got a slutty little girlfriend there, son.” The older man finally stood up and walked over to the couch, sitting on his knees beside you, his hand still idly stroking his long, veiny length. “But she looks like she wants something more than just your fingers and tongue.”

Wooyoung gave your cunt one nice, long lick, before looking up at San with a curious expression, despite knowing what he’d say. “What’s that?”

“A nice big cock,” San replied, letting go of his own and letting it slap up into his abdomen, waiting for the cameraman to zoom in before he ran a thick finger up from the bottom of his shaft and along one of his prominent veins, slowly panning up to your surprised, but enticed face. “You want Daddy’s cock instead of your boyfriend’s, huh?” He slipped his fingers into your hair and brought your face closer to his cockhead, slapping it down onto your tongue a few times when you opened up. “Mm, I’ll take that as a yes. Now, open wide and show me what you’re made of.”

-

San’s stamina was no joke. It was well over two hours and you already filmed two deepthroat scenes, having to redo it after he pinched your nose for too long and you almost died choking on his cum, another solo jerk off scene for a separate catalog, and then he had to enter you in various positions, having to go slow, but stay hard, so that the photographer could take pictures for another catalog. Now, he was fucking you into next week for the camera. All the while, Wooyoung was able to cum a couple times, mostly on his own, but you were so gracious enough to lend a hand even when you were getting face-fucked.

Though, Wooyoung didn’t even bother jerking off himself at the point, knowing the camera wasn’t even on him anymore. He sighed to himself, idly running his hand up and down his abdomen, watching San fuck the shit out of you right next to him. He couldn’t be too upset. He already knew that the studio you were filming for was made for straight men.

You could hardly think straight, unable to even acknowledge Wooyoung sulking on the couch nearby. It wasn’t your fault, though. San was showing you what it really meant to get dicked-down. The man was like a well-oiled machine, pistoning his cock in and out of you like he was built for it. In fact, his cock was buried so deep inside you, you swore he was going to quite literally rearrange your guts. You wanted to tell the man all of that, but instead you spoke how you usually did during your films, “It’s so good, Daddy. You’re making me feel so full with your big cock in my tiny little pussy.”

“Mm-hmmm,” San nodded his head in agreement, pushed you further down into the couch, his solid body flush against yours. “Daddy’s fucking you good, huh? Much better than your pathetic little boyfriend. You want Daddy’s dick from now on instead?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” you chanted in an obnoxiously whiny voice, each time he pounded into you, hooking your feet together around his slim waist, locking him in place. When the cameraman zoomed in on your face specifically, you emitted a few small whining sounds, making a small ‘o’ with your swollen lips, gazing at the older man with glossy eyes, your eyebrows drawn.

“Baby girl’s so fucked out for Daddy already…” San reached down in between your bodies to rub your clit, the camera now following his movements. The older man pulled his body back slightly, giving the camera a good view of him pounding into you so brutally fast and hard that you’d have no choice but to squirt for him. He knew it’d make a nice money shot.

“Fuck, Daddy, it’s so fucking good!” you yelled, almost growling the last few words out, digging your manicured nails into his broad back and scraping them downwards, making the man groan. This happened sometimes. You got so lost in the pleasure that it made you aggressive. Made you want to cum so badly that if you didn’t get to, you’d throw a fit. “Don’t you fucking stop!”

“I’m not going to stop until I made you squirt, princess.” San ran his tongue across his bottom lip, squeezing and thumbing your throbbing clit, shoving his cock into your aching cunt so viciously that he couldn’t help but let a loud grunting sound each time. “Squirt all over Daddy’s cock. Come on. Fucking do it."

Two rough slaps to your ass and one brutal thrust later, you tossed your head back into the couch, your face contorting like you were in pain, your jaw tensing up as you moaned, “Oh my fucking god.” San pulled out and moved out of the way, holding one of your legs up so that the cameramen could get in there, allowing him to catch a crystal clear view of your dripping hole clenching around nothing until a small amount of liquid began squirting out of you. “Oh my goddddd…”

To make you squirt as much as possible, San hunched over the couch and brought two fingers onto your extremely sensitive clit, rubbing it so quickly, your hips jolted away from his touch, encouraging him to hold you down with one strong hand on your nearest hip.

“Saaaan,” you choked out, tears spilling out of your eyes from how insanely good it felt. Your arousal started to spray out of you instead, covering your cunt and inner thighs, getting onto the leather couch, and of course, even wetting the cameraman himself.

San sighed to himself, admiring such a beautiful sight. “Fucking hell, you’re making such a mess, baby. Look at you.” Without wasting a single second, he got back onto the couch and sat on his knees, using your slick and his dripping pre-cum to lube his cock, jerking off so fast his shoulders were starting to tremble. “Gonna cum all over you, kitten. You want Daddy’s milk, yeah?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nodded, gazing up at his dimpled smile, the small wrinkles underneath his upturned eyes, the pretty moles that decorated his strained neck. You couldn’t help but reach in between your legs to play with your pulsing cunt, rubbing the wetness around, making sure to spread your legs to give the camera a good view.

“Here it comes, baby,” San grunted huskily, pumping his hand slowly up and down his veiny shaft. “Oh, yeah that’s it…” He leaned his head down to look at your lewd face, forcing a long, thick rope of cum out onto your tits at first, making sure he covered the majority of your face in it, until he began working his way down your body. “Take Daddy’s load, kitten. Take all of it.” He continued to stroke the base of his twitching cock, the milky liquid splattering all over your tits and abdomen, some even landing on your mound and sliding down to your hole.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you purred, swiping your fingers through the vast amount of cum on your sweaty body and popping them into your mouth to suck on them.

“You’re very welcome, baby girl.” He admired the messy painting he made on his pretty canvas, taking in deep breaths to slow down his racing heart.

Once you relaxed and melted into the couch, San grabbed your chin and pressed his lips to your cheek, then made you face Wooyoung who sat up straight and gave you his best pouty face now that the camera was on him. “Tell my pathetic stepson that you’ll come to me when he can’t fuck you right.”

“I’m going to let Daddy fuck me whenever your cock doesn’t satisfy me, baby,” you told your scene partner, reaching over to caress his cheek. “That’s alright with you, yeah?”

Wooyoung nuzzled your hand, nodding his head sadly. Even though he was acting, you still felt a twinge of guilt inside your chest. He was good. The cameraman zoomed out slowly, then lowered it and gave a thumbs up to the other staff in the room, causing them to sigh and split apart in their own directions.

San patted your head and gave you a bright smile, wiping some sweat from his forehead. "Great job, Y/N. You really gave it your all." When you gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, he leaned in, adding in a low voice, "It was fun watching you squirt. Maybe I can see it again sometime."

"Uh-huh!" you answered a little too quickly, your cheeks burning, making Wooyoung roll his eyes and let out a small chuckle at your reaction.

San turned to Wooyoung, pushing some of his damp raven hair back and fixing his glasses. "Maybe we can get a bit more involved next time. You seem like a brat. Makes me want to put you in your place."

Blushing, Wooyoung couldn't even form a sentence, too caught off guard by the older man's words. You shoved Wooyoung's shoulder a bit, knowing he was just as whipped for San as you were.

San found you both to be quite cute, but preferred to keep it to himself for now. "Mm, anyway, it was nice working with you two! Bye for now." He showed off his charming smile, accompanied by the dimples that he was known for, before walking off to find his clothes.

Once you both got cleaned up and dressed, you stood near Wooyoung who was checking his phone game, leaning on him, periodically looking over at San, watching him pop a few white tablets into his mouth and swallowing them down with water. "So, it's Viagra..."

"Huh?" Wooyoung mumbled, glancing up at you for a second.

"Why he's able to stay hard for so long, you know." You sighed, missing the feeling of being stretched out by him.

"That still doesn't answer why he's able to cum so goddamn much." Wooyoung paused his game, putting an arm around you, joining in on the fuck-me eyes you were giving San. "Ugh, I really wanted him in my ass. It's not fair."

"Why don't we try to get him to join us for that one upcoming shoot?" you suggested, nudging Wooyoung's ribs with your elbow.

"Are you talking about '2 Sluts 1 Cock?' " he asked nonchalantly, turning to look at you, idly licking his lips.

"That's the one," you chimed, your eyelids lowering slightly, gazing at Wooyoung for a while, until the two of you went back to eye-fucking San across the room, letting out long, lovesick sighs.

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FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers @sanjoongie @manipulatedstars @k-drizzle 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© toxicccred, 2023.

"online friends" - bang chan x stay!reader

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ stray kids social media au ｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

˗ˏˋ pairing ˎˊ˗  bang chan x stay!reader

˗ˏˋ description ˎˊ˗ chan likes to know what stays are up to; he likes to read their tweets, their comments dedicated to the group, and to just look at the content they post in general. one day, after the new album is announced, chan takes it a step further by creating his own twitter account and posing undercover as a stay. his unique username makes him go viral and with that, he meets y/n - a stay who's just looking for fellow stay friends. ! minors + ageless blogs dni

˗ˏˋ tags ˎˊ strangers to friends (?), comedy, angst, with a happy ending (?), not sure how to tag this one tbh, but i have things planned, just trust me with this one, yn doesnt have a face claim

: ̗̀➛   start: 12.04.2023    : ̗̀➛  end: ?

: ̗̀➛   updates: wednesdays + saturdays

: ̗̀➛   taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist, fill this out !!

a/n: hi hi hello !! all chapters are already planned out and the plot is already set! i am only updating the titles as i go, that's why not everything has a title yet! have fun reading + please don't spam like !

˗ˏˋ profiles ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ chapters ˎˊ˗

◛ introduction.

◛ c.one: play it cool.

◛ ch.two: the bang chan allegations.

◛ ch.three: oomf famous era.

◛ ch.four: [coming soon]

◛ ch.five: [coming soon]

◛ ch.six: [coming soon]

◛ ch.seven: [coming soon]

◛ ch.eight: [coming soon]

◛ ch.nine: [coming soon]

◛ ch.ten: [coming soon]

◛ epilogue.

💌 you got a new message!

OH MAN..

the words i have to say, the thoughts, times i had to stop reading to collect myself... oh man. oh fuck. Aspen, my friend i know we were joking and all but that bonus chapter of me kicking San's ass may need to be a thing because what the fuck? a whole ass married man supporting his ex girlfriend? no woman would allow that? i'm sure there may be one but me? oh no buddy. that screams something else to me and that would be enough due to my trauma to want to be done. second san? sir? you better unhand her? like? you lost the right to be mad after you cheated and chose to be a complete an utter dumbass over someone who loved you for someone who is gonna cheat on you now cause karma is a thing buddy and man i would PAY to see that. absolutely. (i swear i will do anything to see that happen) but also Felix? you literal angel. the sweetest angel ever. San can kick rocks and shit.

Part Five - Bitter

🌹 prev 🌹 masterlist 🌹 next (coming soon)

🌹taglist: open! @drhsthl​ @propertyoftoru

🌹 permanent taglist: @svintsandghosts

"To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently." "He simply couldn’t pick one over the other."

🌹warnings: borderline cheating mention, embarrassing interactions between friends, alcohol (casual mention, though hinted at as a potential coping mechanism), intimidation as abuse (merits is grabbed), verbal abuse/name calling, general angst, unprocessed rage and unresolved trauma, general anxiety

🌹w/c: 7.5k

🌹a/n: Not only have I returned with an update on Prove Me Wrong (and our beloved Sunshine boy), but wowee I was NOT skimping on the heavier topics/angst this go around. I hope that despite it being not as lighthearted of a chapter, that you still enjoy this update. We’ll return to our regularly scheduled sweetness eventually. Promise.

I also couldn’t help but include bestie Jisung more in this chapter because I’ve lowkey been neglecting this lil rascal. xoxo -Aspen

Lee Felix, twenty-three year old bartender with a smile full of sunshine and a heart made of gold, had carried you to bed last night.

And, as expected, your best friend had not shut up about it all morning.

“I was not drooling!” Your squealed, landing a firm smack to Jisung’s arm - though, despite the force with which you’d struck him, his shoulders still shook with laughter.

“You definitely were,” he managed between gasps, his eyes wrinkled shut as he threw his head back, “I can text Felix right now and ask him if his shoulder was wet?”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, burying your reddened cheeks in your hands.

Jisung hadn’t stopped teasing you about your unexpected slumber - or the subsequent events - from the moment you’d woken up. You groaned as he continued cackling next to you on the couch, tears welling in his eyes from just how funny he’d found the entire situation.

The humor, however, was lost on you as your skin flushed deeper into a concerning shade of crimson.

“Fine, fine,” Jisung said, still grinning from ear to ear as he waved his hands in front of himself, signaling his temporary surrender, “But you were definitely drooling.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, rubbing your heated cheeks in an attempt to urge them back into their former, pre-Jisung fueled embarassment shade.

He chuckled again, winking as he stood up to fill a mug of coffee and leaving you alone on the couch - a frustrated pout on your lips. You sighed as you planted your chin atop your palm, elbow on the armrest, and Felix on your mind.

Had he really carried you up to the apartment as Jisung had claimed? You weren’t sure what all was true of his recollection or how much was simply an exaggeration at your expense. You should probably thank Felix, regardless of how you’d gotten into the apartment, after he’d managed to handle your unconsciousness with a gentleness that never once roused you.

Though you were a bit too ashamed at the prospect of the potentially true, humiliating contents of the latter half of your evening.

It wasn’t too terrible, though - at least, from what you remembered before your little catnap, things had gone well for Felix and Ryujin.

There it was, your opening. The way to reach out without being completely awkward. You pulled out your phone, shooting Felix a quick text to ask if he’d heard from her yet. 

As you waited for a response, Jisung returned with a steaming mug of coffee - with an added splash of cream, just as you liked it - holding it out to you carefully with both hands. “Peace offering,” he explained as you took it from him, rolling your eyes as you read the statement on the side.

World’s Okayest Author.

It had been yet another gag gift from Jisung after you’d initially discovered your love for cringey, cheesy statements on ceramic cups.

“You’re lucky I love you, you know that right?” you murmured, raising the slightly-bitter drink to your lips before sipping it slowly.

Jisung beamed, obviously doubting that you’d ever stop loving him at this point, “Yes, I’m so unbelievably lucky my beautiful, smart, clever, best friend who definitely drooled on Felix’s shoulder loves me.”

Coffee got caught in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit as you held the mug out for Jisung to grab. He did quickly, shifting from poking fun to fussing over you in an instant.

“Breathe!” he commanded, his brows shooting up high enough to be obscured by his bangs. He set the mug down on the table in a rush, patting your back as though you were a baby that needed burped.

“Jesus, Ji,” you sputtered, residual throat-clearing interrupting your words as you slammed your fist against your sternum, “Peace offering, my ass.”

“I’m sorry!” he whined, firm taps shifting into gentle circles being rubbed between your shoulders, “It was just right there, I had to!” 

“Had to?” you croaked, swallowing hard to soothe the sudden scratchiness your choking episode has caused.

“C’mon, sweets,” he pleaded, “If I were the butt of these jokes you’d still be laughing.”

You hated just how true, and just how fair his statement was.

With a disapproving shake of your head, you let out a long sigh in lieu of an answer. Jisung simply grinned before singsonging out a satisfied, “I knew it,” placing the mug back into your hands and ignoring the daggers you shot his way.

You shook your head, saved from admitting defeat by the chime of your phone. You picked it up with one hand, the other holding your mug to your lips as you took a long sip and relished in the way it soothed the irritation from your near-suffocation.

Felix☀️: yeah, she messaged me to ask if i’d gotten home alright!

Felix☀️: i told her i did and then we said goodnight. 

Felix☀️: wait…should i have done that? did i mess that up?

You couldn’t help the affectionate laugh that escaped your lips, Felix’s doe-eyed expression of panic materializing so vividly in your mind that you barely even noticed Jisung announcing he’d be right back. 

You shot him a small wave, still smiling as you replied quickly to the messages, hoping to avert the crisis that was a spiraling Lee Felix.

You: Felix, deep breath. It’s fine, goodnight is definitely not dealbreaker.

The three dots appearing and disappearing as the spirited boy second, third, and fourth guessed himself had become something of a signature in your conversations - evoking a certain fondness - completely certain he was chewing his lip and running his hand repeatedly through his fluffy, blonde locks. You: Whatever it is, you can just say it Felix.

The dots disappeared one final time, before waving along for a solid thirty seconds. You felt your shoulders sink as you read his words, feeling every shred of your dignity evacuate your being.

Felix☀️: did you sleep alright?

Felix☀️: sounded like a rough dream for a bit there

Felix☀️: I stuck around until I thought you were settled, but i was pretty worried

Your heart dropped in your chest, a surge of guilt mostly to blame, though gratitude was taking the small remainder of that accountability. You: You didn’t have to do that, Felix.

You: But, thank you. I’m okay, sometimes my subconscious just…hurts.

Explaining these recurring dreams to Felix was harder than you’d have imagined. He was so gentle and soft - radiating joy and peace. You didn’t want to dim his shine, especially not as he basked in the glow of Ryujin contacting him.

Felix☀️: you sure?

Felix☀️: you can talk to me if you want to

Felix☀️: but no pressure!!!

The small smile that seemed to accompany conversations with Felix crept back onto your face, pushing the anxiety over explaining yourself far into the background. His messages were so…him. Prone to rambling, yet thoughtful and well-meaning with every tangent he went off on. If only he knew that you were the one feeling nervous about how you were affecting him this time around.

You: I’m really okay, but…noted, thank you. 

Not even in the furthest recesses of your imagination would you have figured Felix for the intuitive type, his bumbling nature giving off much more of a clueless vibe than one capable of such inferences.

Yet, here you were, so shell-shocked you nearly dropped your phone - and your coffee - before you’d gathered yourself enough to even attempt to formulate a reply.

Felix☀️: does it involve how you feel about love?

Attempt had been the key word in your mental monologue, seeing as your fingers flew across the keys in the most avoidant, juvenile way imaginable.

You: I don’t wanna talk about it.

Less than a second later, Felix had responded. You could picture him staring at his phone, overthinking the fact that he sent a message so personal. Realizing the troubled thoughts he must’ve been having made you feel a bit ashamed of your own terseness.

Felix☀️: that feels like an answer

Felix☀️: but i won’t push, okay?

Felix☀️: just know i AM here for you, if you ever change your mind

The fact that he still managed to be so understanding, so comforting so…Felix about it all, only served to make the way you’d answered him feel even more shameful.

You: Thank you.

It was all you could think of to reply with, setting your phone beside you before leaning your head back against the couch - staring up at the ceiling blankly. You couldn’t stop cursing yourself internally, wishing you’d met Felix’s softness with something a bit less abrasive.

At least he didn’t seem too terribly torn up over it - you seemed to have that covered on your own at this point, anyways.

Right on cue, with true chaotic-best-friend energy, Jisung barged back into the apartment, his face pale as he held a bright-blue flier in his hand. “Ji?” you asked, sitting upright on the couch to search his eyes for anything that could explain his offputting silence.

He stepped forward, blinking rapidly before handing you the innocuous paper, barely managing to whisper, “Honey, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot…”

“What are you talking about, Ji?” you asked, keeping a nervous smile plastered on your face as if it would change whatever he was going on about into something unworthy of his atypical quietness.

You flipped it over, bold black text sending an immediate chill down your spine. 

Bi-Annual Author’s Gala.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you looked up at Jisung with genuine fear in your eyes, his own expression softening into worry - it was probably best that only one of you were in crisis at a time, and you definitely took precedence when it came to this particular event.

As the name stated, the Bi-Annual Author’s Gala was a party hosted by popular publishers all around the region once every two years - serving both as a social mixer and an award ceremony for authors from all different publishing houses. 

And it was tonight.

This, on its own, wasn’t much cause for concern. You were, in fact, an author and it would be far from your first time in attendance of the Gala. The biggest concern each year was typically finding a dress that suited the occasion in time, or making sure that your makeup wouldn’t photograph poorly should you be given an award.

This year, however, the hurdle you needed to overcome was something you’d never had to face before; attending alone.

You’d attended last year’s event with San.

You’d purchased a plus-one ticket in advance, because you certainly hadn’t predicted San leaving you before the next Gala.

There were going to be two seats saved under your name, and one body to fill them.

“Ji, fuck, you gotta go with me!” you whipped your head up from the flier, ignoring the painful sting that always came along with remembering anything at all about San.

Jisung couldn’t look you in the eye - the surefire tell that he was about to tell you something you really didn’t want to hear.

“Honey, Minho and I are leaving for Jeju in like…two hours, remember?” he spoke in a startlingly soft and serious voice, still unable to meet your eyes, “It’s our first vacation as a couple, I can’t cancel on him…” he chewed his lip, finally sparing you a fleeting moment of eye contact.

You understood, of course, but that didn’t stop your veins from running cold at the prospect of explaining to everyone there why you had two seats, and no plus one. 

Understanding did nothing for the fact that you had less than eight hours to find not only an appropriate dress for such an event, but a date who could also dress accordingly. You must have been wearing your dread in every facet of your being, because Jisung was quick to start spouting suggestions.

“Would your publisher let you skip out? Claim any award on your behalf?”

You shook your head, recalling how she’d reacted when you’d tried to call out of a book signing, let alone an actual award ceremony.

“I highly doubt it, Ji. You know how she is…” you trailed off, your lower lip trembling as you took a shaky inhale.

“Oh! Ask Felix, maybe?” he chirped, tilting his head to the side with the first shadow of a smile he’d worn since reappearing with that cursed, blue paper.

That…wasn’t a terrible idea.

You pulled your phone out, typing and retyping your message until your shaky fingers spared you any typos.

You: Hey, what are you doing tonight?

You wondered if Felix would find amusement in knowing you were nervous on the other end of the phone, just as his through-text stammering tickled your funny bone. Such thoughts were quickly cut short as your heart leapt into your throat.

You finally understood what people meant when they’d complain about how nervous appearing and disappearing typing cues made them.

Felix☀️: was gonna go out for some drinks with ryujin

Felix☀️: why? is everything okay?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to convince yourself that encroaching on his first actual outing with - as he oftentimes called her - the love of his life was acceptable. That your personal emergency outweighed the potential of his happiness.

The thought itself felt like poison, making you nauseated at the fact you’d even considered it. It felt almost as wrong to lie to Felix, but it was for the future of the relationship you’d promised to help him secure. 

You were sure that, should he ever find out the truth, he’d forgive you. Felix was certainly the type to brush something like this off if he knew your heart was in the right place.

You: Yeah, all good. Have fun, be yourself. Tell me all about it later?

You sighed as you tucked your phone back into your pocket, looking up at Jisung’s expectant eyes before shaking your head. His expression fell instantly back into one of guilt and concern. The way his jaw clenched showed you that he was wracking his brain for any other possibility.

You didn’t need him to say a word to know that he was likely out of ideas.

There was no ill will towards Jisung, just as there was none towards Felix. Plans with someone you loved were important to those who still believed in it’s magic, after all. The only bitterness your heart held was towards San, and towards love itself.

None of this would be a problem if you simply had never loved San in the first place.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Jisung asked, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

Your best attempt at a smile likely appeared more tight-lipped and forced than reassuring, though you did your best to come across as much more composed than you felt.

“Yeah, I’ll survive, Ji,” you nearly whispered, nodding your head before lightheartedly pushing him away, “Now, go pack. I don’t want Minho to blame me if you’re late for your departure, yeah?”

Jisung nodded, giving a half-hearted grin at your attempt to diffuse the tension, “Okay, sweets. Send me outfit photos? I can at least help with that.” 

With that, Jisung leaned forward and pecked the top of your head affectionately, casting a melancholy glance over his shoulder before leaving you alone in the apartment.

All there was to do now was tear apart your closet, put on your makeup, and try not to cry.

You were only confident in the first two.

Time was of the essence, so exhausting your wardrobe was the only option in order to find suitable attire for the Gala. It would be so much easier to head to one of the boutiques uptown, allowing one of the overly helpful employees there to play dress-up-author-Barbie with you.

But you only had two hours, and couldn’t risk being late and alone.

So, you’d spent ten minutes pulling every article of clothing resembling formalwear from the closet, spreading them out on your bed before snapping photos to send to Jisung for approval.

You sat at your vanity, pulling your hair back from your face to apply a thin layer of foundation and a generous layer of bronzer to your cheekbones, a necessary effort to combat the washout due to cameras flashing. A bit of a dusty-rose blush, simple flicked eyeliner, and a shock of red lipstick topped off the entire look.

You had to admit, you looked at least ten times more put together than you felt.

The chiming of your phone brought you to your feet, nearly jumping across the room to check what you had rightfully assumed was Jisung’s verdict.

Dumb Squirrel: honey, are you serious?

Dumb Squirrel: that pretty black dress and you considered other options?

Dumb Squirrel: I taught you better than that???

You rolled your eyes, not quite appreciating his humor as much as you would whilst under such immense levels of stress.

You: Unprovoked???

Dumb Squirrel: Minho wants to see your makeup before he agrees with me.

You snapped a quick photo, trying your best to put on a pleasant expression despite how pointless it felt to waste time with selfies, but you knew better than to argue with Jisung after asking him for advice.

Dumb Squirrel: first of all, i am offended

Dumb Squirrel: you hide this bad bitch in pajamas every time we hangout

Dumb Squrrel: rude

You groaned, brows furrowing as you replied to him quickly. You: Help me now, compliment me later.

Dumb Squirrel: yeesh, grouchy.

Dumb Squirrel: i get it though, so i forgive you

Dumb Squirrel: Minho said, quote, “black dress, match some heels. sleek, sexy and professional”

Dumb Squirrel: he also insists that i apologize because “this isn’t a time to joke” and to inform you he called me an idiot on your behalf

For the first time since your seemingly endless panic, the ghost of a true smile appeared on your face. You had always known there was a reason you approved of Minho outside of Jisung’s happiness. You: Thanks, both of you. Gotta finish up now, message you when I arrive?

Dumb Squirrel: you got it sweets. good luck!

You set your phone down on the vanity, picking up the elegant black number from your bed. It was a simple dress, enough to look dressed up without overdoing it. The sleeves were full length, clinging tightly to your arms despite exposing both of your shoulders. The neckline was modest, resting in a slight curve against your sternum, the skirt floor length - flaring out just enough to flow - with a slit up to your mid thigh. 

After slipping it on and struggling with the zipper alone, your reflection told you that Ji and Minho had been absolutely correct in their recommendation - your resolve only solidifying as you took Minho’s advice about a pair of black pumps. A few pieces of dainty silver jewelry, and an understated black clutch were all that was required to give you an air of poise that - until now - you weren’t sure you were actually capable of.

You’d have no idea this was a last-minute effort if you weren’t, well, you.

Sitting down once more at the vanity, slipping your phone into the clutch, you twirled a piece of hair around your fingertip. You didn’t have the time to do anything fancy, but knew that your unstyled hair would definitely not blend in with the aura of sophistication you’d managed to exude with everything else adorning your body.

The time restriction may have turned out to be a good thing, you thought to yourself. Straightened hair pulled back into a high, tight ponytail tied the whole look together in a way that you were sure Jisung would gush about for weeks after seeing the photos from the event.

Date or not, you looked absolutely fantastic - and you knew it. That confidence exuded from your features, even when you’d simply gaze blankly into the mirror. It was that same overwhelming aura one would get watching perfume commercials; despite how disinterested the actress may appear, your attention was always pulled for at least a moment.

You gave yourself one last glance, spritzing on a light perfume before making your way to the door. You’d had the sense to call a cab in advance, thanking whatever deity may have been watching over you as you spotted it pulling up from halfway down the stairs.

Another quick prayer of gratitude as the interior of the cab didn’t smell horrible, though this was likely due to the extra fee you’d paid to have a nicer, newer model pick you up.

The driver politely greeted you, nodding as you prattled off the address quickly. He seemed to be a man of few words, yet another thing you could only accredit to a guardian angel or impossible luck.

The ride was rather uneventful, save for the occasional bit of traffic at stoplights, and you’d managed to arrive at the venue with five minutes to spare. You snapped a quick photo outside of the venue, sending it to Jisung so he’d know you’d made it safely.

You: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

You shut your phone off then, not wanting to risk it going off during any announcements for the awards, slipping it back into your clutch to avoid the temptation to distract yourself with messages or social media. 

Your publicist spotted you from the entrance, waving her arm above her head to draw your attention. You stepped towards her, plastering on your best smile as you greeted her warmly. “Nari, good to see you,” you spoke softly, ghosting your lips above her cheeks rather than actually greeting her properly - the alternative being to stain her makeup red.

“Am I ever glad to see you,” she sighed, audibly relieved as she returned the gesture, “I hadn’t heard from you all day and had honestly begun to worry you’d forgotten.”

“I would never,” you lied, turning your head as your name was called by one of the photographers.

You let the corners of your lips raise as you parted your lips, the look Nari had taught you under the name pleasantly surprised to be photographed. It sounded dumb when she’d first told you about it - though the shots, and how gentle and candid you ended up looking in them, quickly won you over to her side.

“You came alone?” Nari asked quietly, speaking through her teeth behind her own gentle smile. “Mhm,” you hummed softly, turning towards a different photographer to allow them all the shots they wanted. It wasn’t as it would be as an actress or musician - there weren’t really paparazzi to speak of. This was more…documentation for online profiles, potential headshots for book covers, and coverage for the sake of equal representation amongst the arts.

Despite your hopes that Nari would leave the topic alone, it seemed you’d used up your luck reserves for the day.

“Didn’t you book a plus one?” she mumbled haphazardly, trying to keep her expression calm as she wondered how, as your publicist, she’d explain away the empty seat.

“Two years ago, yes,” you reminded her, hoping your discomfort wouldn’t be apparent in any of the photos.

“You couldn’t have canceled?” she asked, sounding more and more urgent despite speaking through a closed jaw.

“Didn’t cross my mind,” you dodged, allowing your face to shift from pleasant to neutral as the photographers gathered around the next author to arrive, “Is it really that big of a deal?”

Nari sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as she shook her head, “In general, no. As your publicist, yes.”

You frowned, turning your body to face her. You did your best to hide your displeasure - it was embarrassing enough for you without Nari reminding you that she’d have to field questions about your dateless award show from fans of your books.

“Nari, I really don’t see what the problem is, people show up to events without an escort all the –”

You were cut off by a blossoming smile on Nari’s face, visible relief in her eyes as she stared behind you.

“That wasn’t funny, you really had me going,” she scolded, glancing at you only momentarily before allowing her focus to return somewhere behind your shoulder. “Nari, what are you talking about? I meant it when I said I came –” you were cut off by an all too familiar throat clearing behind you.

“-- alone…” you trailed off, the hair on the back of your neck slowly rising as a heavy feeling of dread made itself at home from head to toe - though it seemed to constrict your heart in your chest. “Hey,” a familiar set of sharply angled lips spoke quietly. His jaw - one that you could vaguely recall pressing your lips against once upon a time - clenched awkwardly, the man attached shuffling in place. His sheepish eyes landed upon yours, holding a strong uncertainty that only seemed to increase the contrast with the blatant shock you wore.

You swallowed hard - fight and flight playing the highest-stakes game of chicken you’d ever considered in your mind. 

Both of these options felt like a nightmare. 

Punching him in front of cameras? Tempting, and Jisung would probably ask you to sign a copy - probably even treat you to a fancy and expensive dinner after bailing you out on an assault charge. Though, as far as PR went, it was a horrible decision - having an angry publicist was never a smart choice.

Running off was just as enticing, the desire to head home without looking back - finishing a bottle of wine alone in a pretty dress - sounded absolutely cathartic. Though, Nari would have to explain your sudden disappearance - which also translated to having an angry publicist. You asked the only question you truly felt like you needed answered in that moment, though you couldn't quite recognize your voice's newfound hollowness as your own.

“San, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Lee Felix was not the type to check his phone on a date. If anything, he was the type to leave it in his truck, devoting the entirety of his attention to the person sitting before him. 

That had been his intent this evening - to sit across from Ryujin and finally engage in meaningful conversation. To smile and laugh with her as he filled in the blanks he’d so desperately craved the answer to as he’d crushed from afar. To lose himself in her eyes as she spoke about her passions.

Yet, completely out of character, Felix had forgotten to take his phone out of the pocket of his tight slacks. He, of course, had apologized when it interrupted their small talk, quickly silencing the ringer before returning to his previously enraptured state.

Even further from his typical behaviors, Felix’s curiosity about what awaited him beyond his lockscreen had stuck in his mind. So much, in fact, that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a peek at the screen whilst Ryujin was in the restroom.

Confused only slightly covered Felix’s reaction when he opened your text, swallowing hard to prevent his jaw from dropping at the sight of the photo attached;

#1 Love Hater💔: Made it to the Gala safe and sound. Now to make it through the evening without needing to explain the lack of date…pray for me. Talk later?

He was at least 99 percent certain that he wasn’t the intended recipient, yet everything about your message sparked question after question in his mind. What Gala were you referring to? If he were to glean anything from your attire and more-glamorous-than-usual makeup, it was some sort of formal event. Was this why you’d asked him about his plans for tonight? He felt his stomach lurch with guilt at the thought of you alone at something so…so utterly not like the you he knew. So formal and gaudy. 

Felix had grown accustomed to seeing you dressed comfortably in oversized sweaters, a messy bun or completely unstyled hair framing your barely-made-up face. 

Felix had only ever seen you in casual settings; your apartment, his truck, the food court, and the art studio. You looked beautiful, and Felix could acknowledge and appreciate the effort you’d put into your appearance for whatever this “Gala” was. 

He’d always found your features to be pretty, though, even with your face smooshed against the window of his truck as you slept soundly.

To Felix, seeing you like this rather than how you usually present yourself was like being offered two slices of cake made up with the same ingredients, simply decorated differently. He simply couldn’t pick one over the other.

Ryujin still hadn’t returned, allowing his mind to continue questioning every aspect of the message you’d sent. He could only put so many pieces together on his own, though, and found himself increasingly antsy as he wondered how you were holding up - out of your element, and alone.

He’d shot you a quick text, trying to see how you were doing. He couldn’t help but frown as the checkmark stayed faded, not even registering as delivered. Was your phone dead? If it was, how could you call anyone if you needed something? He quickly scrolled his contacts, finding Jisung and typing out a message before he could even consider other options. Felix: what’s the gala?

Ryujin came back out then, giving Felix a brilliant smile that instantly made him wish he’d never seen your message. He was truly happy to have this time with her, finally getting the chance to become more than the guy who makes her drinks, yet here he was - worrying about you.

“Sorry I took so long, there was a line,” she explained before sliding back into her chair, lifting her wine glass to take a small sip.

“No worries,” Felix assured, his typically shining grin dimmed significantly as he tapped his foot subconsciously beneath the table. 

If Ryujin noticed a change in his behavior, she didn’t let on, launching right back into where she’d left the discussion.

Though once enamored by every word that left her lips, Felix barely registered Ryujin’s recollection of her previous job as a secretary before moving on to her current position as an executive assistant. He felt his phone buzz against his thigh. Felix was doing his best to nod and smile attentively, despite the way his fingertips were twitching with the desire to pull up his phone and get the answers he craved. 

Ryujin finished her story, looking at Felix expectantly as she took another sip of her wine. Shit, did she ask me something?

His palms began to sweat, another buzz against his thigh only serving to worsen the clamminess. He gave his best attempt at a remorseful smile, standing from his seat to give her a slight bow of apology.

“I’m really sorry, I’ll be right back, okay?” His eyes were wide, and it seemed to suddenly register with Ryujin that something was going on with him - that his attention had been elsewhere for the last several minutes. “Oh, yeah,” she said, her kind expression barely faltering as she read the look in his eyes as concern, “Is everything alright?”

“I hope so,” Felix replied with uncertainty, half of his mouth upturning into a crooked smile. Ryujin nodded, seeming to understand fully that this was something important to him - why else would his mood have shifted so suddenly?

Felix bowed again, though this time from gratitude, before hastily walking off in the direction of the outdoor patio. He pulled his phone out so quickly that he’d nearly dropped it, his level of worry causing him to mess up his own lock code not once - but twice.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): howd you know about the gala?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its some fancy writing award thing i think tho?

Felix’s brow furrowed so deeply into his head that there would likely be residual wrinkles for a few minutes after he finally relaxed, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Felix: and she went alone? 🙁 what if she wins?

Felix: accept an award alone? 😭

Felix’s guilt from earlier was on the fast track to evolve into unadulterated shame. He wondered why she’d have kept this from him…sure, he was busy, but her secrecy almost gave him further cause for concern.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): yeah…i’m on jeju with Minho rn

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she said you were busy but if you arent?

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): she’d appreciate someone there, i think

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): at least to save her from her publicist’s wrath

Felix sighed hard enough that it could’ve easily been mistaken as a frustrated groan. He was far from being irritated though - uneasy due to his lack of understanding, maybe, but not frustrated.

Felix: why would her publicist hound her?

Felix: was she not supposed to be alone?

Felix’s confusion only grew stronger, every answer to his questions revealing at least two more things he didn’t understand. 

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): its not really my place

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): all i can say comfortably is that she’d planned on a plus one

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): and some shit happened

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): emphasis on shit

Felix’s heart sank. On one hand, you hadn’t shared this information with him yourself. If he acted on it, would you be upset with him for prying? Upset with Jisung for sharing? On the other, from what he gathered, tonight might be painful for you - especially if you’d planned on someone special being by your side for it.

Felix: you really think she’d want me there?

Felix decided to double check, despite Jisung’s earlier statement that you’d likely appreciate a friendly face. If anyone would be able to predict your reactions closest to complete accuracy, it would be your best friend.

Jisung (tried to 👊 once): i know she would.

That’s when Felix made arguably the toughest decision of his adult life, stuffing his phone back into his pocket as he reapproached the table - Ryujin’s momentary happiness fading as she recognized the look on his face.

“What’s up?” she asked, trying to remain casual despite the sudden intensity in Felix’s gaze.

“Please forgive me,” he started, though his voice sounded much more resolute than a plea for forgiveness should, “There’s an emergency with one of my friends, I really have to go.”

Ryujin blinked a few times, nodding her head before giving him a sweet smile - disappointment barely visible as she responded calmly, “I understand completely.”

“Rain check?” Felix asked hopefully, pulling his blazer from the back of his chair with a raised brow before slinging it over his arms.

“Of course,” she replied softly, watching as he tossed enough cash for their meal and tips onto the table before handing her a few bills to pay cab fare to get her home.

She blinked at the money in her hand before looking back up at him, her brows creased together. Sure, she hadn’t known Felix long…but his entire demeanor looked different somehow. Gone was the awkward, shy, fumbling man she’d arrived with - in his place stood a man completely sure of himself, confident in his choice to cut their date short in the name of a friend in need.

As she watched Felix race back to his truck, turning the keys in the ignition before he’d even buckled his seatbelt, Ryujin wasn’t quite sure if she was more puzzled or besotted by this brand new side of Lee Felix.

As you stood face to face with San you became certain of two things.

Firstly, he was exactly the same. From the way he parted his hair, to the slight lean to the right in his posture, San had not changed - even a tiny bit. No sign of new fine lines or wrinkles. No difference in the offhanded way he’d addressed you. The only difference, in fact, was a glittering gold band on his left ring finger.

That had led you to your second revelation; any love you had for him was - in fact - gone. The tentative smile he offered you that used effortlessly placate even your largest irritations only served to give you an uncomfortable case of the goosebumps, chilling you to the very core. The way he tilted his head, once something you’d found precious now only infuriated you. 

How dare he look at you so calmly after what he’d done? How dare he show up at an event that wasn’t even for him in the first place? How dare he show up with the audacity to escort you wearing a wedding ring after breaking off your engagement to marry the woman who’d likely slid that onto his finger?

How dare he do this in front of your publicist, who now wore a relieved and excited grin on her face at the notion of having the seat next to you filled.

How dare he waltz up to you with absolutely no warning, uttering a casual hey as if you were somehow friends? 

How fucking dare he?

Your teeth were clenched following your less-than-amicable question, jaw set in a tensed position as you crossed your arms against your chest.

“Don’t act this way,” he started, his brows knitting together before he pursed his lips.

“I said what the fuck are you doing here?” you hissed, eyes widened with a rage that, until just now, you believed had been abandoned in favor of grief.

“I –” he cut himself off, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he took a sharp breath in through his nose - the telltale flaring of his nostrils showing just how hard he was working to keep himself gentle, “I was supposed to be your plus one. I’m not so shitty that I’d let you sit alone at the Gala.”

“I beg to differ,” you deadpanned, “You’re exactly that shitty, and nothing would make me happier than if you’d never shown up here.”

San’s jaw clenched as he took in your quiet anger. He’d experienced different sides of you before, but this was new. 

You’d had jealous anger before, resulting in tears and long monologues of your insecurities - coating everything you did like a cold drizzle, sinking you into yourself as you’d seek warmth in any way possible.

You’d had explosive anger, too. Raising your voice and refusing to listen to reason, certain that exactly what you believed to be happening was strictly fact - down to every last detail. Like an earthquake, threatening destruction on anything not secured tightly in place.

Now, though? Your face was blank, save for the slightly widened state of your eyes and the hard line your lips had formed. Your words were clear and concise, as if you had been waiting to say these very words to him for your entire life. You sounded sure. You sounded calm.

You were the eye of a hurricane, a single spot of calm amidst the raging sea. Moving in any direction too quickly could plunge him into the chaotic, swirling depths.

“Unfortunately,” you continued on, not once shifting your steely gaze away from his, “It seems that in order to be rid of you, I’d need to do something my publisher will absolutely disapprove of.”

San swallowed hard, “I didn’t come here with the intention to upset you –” his eyes bulged as you laughed - as though his attempt at reassurance was actually the funniest thing you’d ever heard in your life.

“That’s fucking rich, Choi San, considering you’re planning to walk at my side as though you’ve done nothing wrong,” you took a step closer, despite how sick the proximity made you feel, just to ensure that no prying eyes or gossip-hungry ears could pick up on a thing you said.

“You want to come here, to an award ceremony for my profession, wearing the ring given to you by the woman you swore to me I didn’t need to worry about?” you scoffed under your breath, every bit of your body language screaming discomfort and volatility.

You whispered the last sentence, the audacity he had to appear shocked, requiring you to push back against the urge to spit in his face, “But, I guess since you didn’t come here to upset me, it’s all fine I suppose.” 

If it hadn’t been for Nari, you’d have definitely caused a bigger scene. 

If you didn’t know for a fact that she’d have several choice words, if not threats on your career should you turn San away, you’d have simply called him a cab and told him to get fucking lost.

You had to be escorted by the man who ruined your entire concept of love for the night. There was no other option. You suddenly found yourself wishing you’d simply not been reminded by Jisung about the event earlier, simply missing it and facing Nari’s wrath.

That was better than forcing yourself to pretend to be fine next to San.

If you had to be escorted by the largest reminder of your heartache, you refused to do it with an agreeable demeanor - so you turned away from him suddenly, making a beeline for the outdoor bar, hoping to get a couple of drinks to coax you into spending the evening next to the devil. 

You’d expected him to perhaps follow you, at least having the decency to be as close to invisible as he could be in the seat next to you for the evening.

You’d expected him to let you get a drink, maybe to even understand why you wanted to dull your senses around him.

What you hadn’t expected was his sudden, tight grip around your wrist - stopping you in your tracks.

“I showed up for you,” he whispered with accentuated sibilance, a noise more closely associated with a feral cat than a man. His grip tightened on your wrist as his eyes grew wide, “I left my wife home to escort you at this stupid fucking gala,” he spat that bit bitterly, his nose wrinkling with anger, “that I’ve never actually liked attending, just so you don’t feel fucking embarassed, all alone.” San’s voice had morphed into one filled with venom, it’s sole intent to mock you and make you feel small.

“I didn’t fucking ask you to,” you hissed back, ignoring the stinging in your eyes at his words. You didn’t love him anymore, this was true. You didn’t care about his opinion, and that was true, too. 

It was also true that he knew you well enough to know exactly where to prod, exactly how to hurt you.

You barely noticed whispers of a few passerby as the two of you exchanged your hushed, turbulent stabs.

You barely noticed the familiar sound of an engine thrumming beneath the hood of a red pickup truck.

His grip grew tighter, making you wince slightly, “You’re so fucking ungrateful,” San continued, running his free hand through his hair - as he’d always done when he’d grown frustrated with you - before shooting his darkened eyes back towards you, “All you’ve ever done is complain about everything I do for you, no matter how fucking much I hated doing it.”

“I didn’t want you here,” you insisted, trying with futility to pull your wrist from the constraint of his fist, “This isn’t for me,” you swallowed the thickness growing in your throat, ignoring the way your voice quivered as you spoke - determined not to break where he could see you, “If this were for me, you’d be gone. In fact, you’d never have shown up here in the first place, San.”

San grew red in the face as he pulled you closer by your wrist, hissing whatever the opposite of sweet nothings were directly into your face, “You stupid, selfish, spoiled little –” he suddenly stopped, his gaze focusing behind you reminding you eerily of the way Nari had spotted him before.

The smell of a summer’s rain and wildflowers flooded your senses, prefacing a warm hand resting against your bare shoulder. 

San’s jaw clenched as he glanced at the hand, his eyes slowly making their way up to the face attached.

It was then that a familiar, comforting bass voice met your ears - soothing you despite the intimidating closeness San maintained with you. 

You turned your head to confirm your suspicions, relief overpowering the bewilderment you felt seeing the last person you’d expected to show up this evening.

“So sorry I’m late,” he whispered just loud enough for San to hear as well, stepping close enough that he hovered directly over your back.

Felix.

“I’d appreciate if you’d unhand my date." He nearly growled, the look on his face completely foreign to the gentle, fluffy haired boy you'd grown so accustomed to. "Now.”

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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