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christallise · 1 year
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pov: you ignore the “do not tap the glass” sign
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christallise · 2 years
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there aren’t a lot of fantasy writers here who manage to write the way you do, I really hope you feel better and come back soon 💕
aaaaa thank you so much for the nice compliment!! i’ll try my very best to come back soon ;___;
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christallise · 2 years
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i can’t wait to have the mentality to come back and read all my moots fics that i’ve missed ;___; hope everyone’s doing okay!!!
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christallise · 2 years
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fear of the water
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Summary: The ocean beckoned you with the sweet call of an otherworldly creature, with a voice woven with the divinity of heaven itself. It drew you in, threatening to suffocate you entirely.
Genre: Supernatural AU, Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Siren!Lee Felix, Female Reader
Tags: Lee Felix is a Siren, ergo: supernatural powers, manipulation (unplanned), pretty voices making people do crazy things, the consumption of human flesh (not explicit, merely mentioned), blood and injury, slight violence, slight cursing; drowning, near-death experience, awkward situations, mc is victim to Felix's abs and is a total simp (aren't we all), slight description of wounds, mentions of murder and death, implied past self-harm, more tags to come with each chapter
WC: 2.5k
A/N: i took the liberty to craft my own siren-lore for the purposes of this story so if anything doesn't make sense shoot me message. and no, we're still not proofread
Part 1 Part 2
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Some ancient call 
It started with flashes.
That I’ve answered before
The colour of eyes here.
It lives in my walls 
The sound of a voice there.
And it’s under the floor
Finally, a name. 
Y/n… 
Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.
Oh, how you sounded like a prayer come true to him. 
After that, it became insistent. The flashes became drawn-out scenes of a life that didn’t belong to him. He saw through eyes that weren’t his, breathed through lungs that were unfamiliar to his body. His mind was plagued with memories he couldn’t recall, underwent experiences that could never possibly be his. 
It was insanity. It was relief. It was everything and nothing all at once. 
It was living and dying.
It was a missing piece now settled in its rightful place. Slotting into the mould it was destined to fit into.
Then, came the physical aspects. The phantom pains and the unexplainable injuries appearing on his body. Sets of scratches on his forearms, neat and far too exact to be accidental. A throbbing in his stomach or a bruise on his hip. A cramp on the side of his tail where one would find the right leg on a human body. A mind-numbing pain in his skull. All things he could account to nothing he did of his own volition. 
Felix was never someone who could be considered clumsy or accident-prone. In fact, he was probably one of the more graceful members of his pack, with a certain attunement to his body and the ocean that few of his species possessed. In that way, all of the inexplicable little things suddenly occurring in his life made it all the more indicative of the process he was undergoing. 
The connection was furthered once an emotional tether was established. There would be moments he’d feel as if he was experiencing life from a different body. A different perspective or mindset. Thoughts that didn’t belong to him would filter through his mind, nothing more than whispers of words or a feeling He’d find himself wracked with crippling depression, appetite waning and desire to socialise diminishing entirely. Other times he’d be coloured with euphoria, energetic and restless to the point where Hyunjin or Chan would challenge him to a duel in a swimming tournament. 
But most of all…there was simply indifference. A numbness he couldn’t explain. Neither weighed down by pain nor floating with exhilaration. If he were to be honest, those bouts were always the worst, and they were the longest.
He’d rather feel too much of one thing than nothing at all. 
And then, one day…
He doubled over in agony, losing sight of the fish he was hunting as his lungs felt as if they were filled with lead, heavy and unforgiving as fire licked his veins the more he suffocated on the water he was suspended in. 
Before he knew it, he was drowning. 
Falling deeper and deeper, being pulled by an underwater current he couldn’t see. 
Mind seizing. 
No. 
No. 
No, no, no. 
This isn’t possible. 
His mouth opened against his will, a silent scream that could only be heard by his ears circled around him before succumbing to nothingness. He was dying he was dying he was dying-
And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Leaving him bereft and weightless despite the regaining of his senses.
In its place he was assaulted with the vision of waves, the feeling of helplessness, followed by an astute sense of resignation as all fight left the vessel his eyes were looking through. 
Without even thinking he swam. He swam and swam. Faster than had ever done in his few centuries of living. As if he were guided by some greater force, not even knowing where he was going, only knowing that it was exactly where he needed to go. Where he needed to be. 
And that’s when he saw you. 
Trapped amongst forceful waves that dragged you farther away from land and into the lightless depths of the ocean. A small, young thing. Too young to have resigned to a death over which you had no control. 
He couldn’t let that happen. 
Not now. 
Not-
Not ever. 
So he swam to you. To your cold, lifeless body that was suspended in the water like some macabre painting. Hair fanned out like a crown of death, limbs spread out, reaching for something, anything, that could save you from your water-logged grave.
And there he was, your saviour in his scaled armour. 
Your eyes were shut, bubbles escaping your lips and floating towards the surface.
He grabbed your wrist, marvelling at how small it looked in his already petite hand. He surged forward, manoeuvring your body through the water, to where light kissed the waves and rippled in gentle waves. 
He broke through the surface, pushing you upwards by placing his hands beneath your arms. He could tell you were alive, but barely. Pulse weak and fluttering sporadically in your neck. 
He took the opportunity to study your face with his own eyes for the first time. He was right in assuming you were young, as there was a careless youthfulness to your underdeveloped features. A child in human years, he was certain. 
But there was beauty there. In the soft innocence that lined your face. Beauty he was sure would blossom into something otherworldly as you grew. Seeing you outside of the glimpses he saw through your eyes was unlike he’d ever imagined. The bits and fragments he managed to catch in mirrors or reflections in glass did little justice to the fullness of your traits once combined. Your hair, your skin, your hands…just as he had seen them. Piecing together to form the entirety of you. 
It left him breathless. 
Left his heart searing with an agony unlike anything he’d ever experienced. 
Making him feel complete and yet entirely fractured.  
Is this what it felt like to see the other part of your soul? 
Absent-mindedly, he wondered if his brothers felt this way when they saw theirs. 
It wasn’t love. Not quite. It was admiration. Wholeness. And it was also disbelief and scepticism. He doubted he could ever love a child like that, questioned whether that was even ethical to begin with. Destiny or not, he’d never force a child into that role. And frankly, he was more than certain he could never even stomach it. 
You started to cough, water escaping your body in mouthfuls. Ragged, broken sounds left your throat as your body fought to expel the unwanted invader in your lungs.  
He was running out of time. He couldn’t let you see him. Not yet. 
Using the unbridled strength of the muscled appendage that was his tail, he propelled you forward, closer to the shore which seemed to be a hair's-breadth away now just as your eyes began to flutter open. You squinted against the salt that stung them, blinking rapidly to stave off the uncomfortable sensation. More coughs spewed from your mouth.
Slinking back into the dark waters, he watched you from afar, only until he confirmed that you had made it safely to land. Once he saw a woman who looked strikingly similar to you drag you to her shaking body, did he take his leave.
But some part of him could have sworn your eyes had found his just as he turned, his tail breaching the surface of the water before he delved deep into the ocean and disappeared from sight.
-
“You saw her, didn’t you?”
“...I did.”
“She’s human.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you bring her with you?”
“She’s not ready.”
-
His presentation was a long-awaited occurrence amongst his pack, an occasion that was once considered worthy of celebration and joy. For it was only once in a siren’s life where the divine creators would bestow upon them the knowledge of their lifelong mate, blessing them with glimpses of their life so that they could share a unique connection ordained by the gods themselves. . 
Of course, that’s what it should have been like. The way it had been for millennia after millennia for its significance in a young siren’s life. 
But it was tainted. Tainted and tattered and obscured by a cloud of pain and suffering. A result of the tragedy that had befallen the rest of his brothers, the way their respective mates died off, each in a manner more gruesome than the last.
Mutilated and murdered. 
A premeditated slaughterfest. 
By humans, no less. 
For nothing other than the depravity of sport.
Felix was the only one who was left, even though he wasn’t even the youngest of his pack. He was their last hope. The one who would complete their family once and for all. It was a heavy burden for someone so young relative to his eldest brothers’ ages, but it was his to bear, and his to bear alone. 
That went without saying that he had the eternal support of his family, but his life leading up to his presentation left much to be desired. Especially when half of his pack died and he was made aware of the responsibility that now lay on his shoulders. 
At times he felt almost as lost as a wayfaring seaman, with no aim or end goal in mind. And because of that, he didn’t even get to be a young, careless pup like the rest of them did. He didn’t get to experience the delight that came with his first unsupervised hunt, or the amazement one felt when their baby scales fell and gave way to their adult ones. 
It was positively maddening. 
Centuries worth of waiting, of finding the one fated to fit the cavernous hole in his existence. 
He was surprised to have made it as far as he did at all. 
But, he supposed, seeing you in the flesh was worth it. Perhaps your being human was a sign from the gods. Perhaps. 
Or maybe it was nothing at all. After all, a siren didn’t get to choose their mate. 
But it was enough for him. You were enough for him. More than, in fact.
After centuries of waiting, another decade seemed like nothing. 
So he’d wait for you.
And when you were of age, he’d come back for you.
Besides, it’s not like he wouldn’t know exactly what you were up to. 
-
“Stop.”
He sat up, pushing his back against the headboard of the bed as he levelled you with an unreadable gaze. “Stop what?”
“This,” you whispered, gesticulating wildly with your hand. “Whatever the hell you just did with my emotions.”
He tilted his head to the side, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. Though, of course, he did. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” he said instead. 
“One second I was fine and then the next I felt like crying my eyes out. Cut that out, Felix!”
“Y/n, I-”
“How do you even know my name?!”
His mouth shut almost instantly, but then his face drew into an irritated scowl as he pointed to the bookshelf. More specifically, the picture frame on top of a small stack of books. In it was a photo of you and your grandmother on the beach, holding a beautiful shimmering shell between both of your hands. The caption beneath it, written in a neat script, read: Y/n, Shelly, and Grammie - June 2008 xx
Your brows drew together as the tension in your body deflated, shoulders sagging as you sighed deeply. 
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say anything. Only ran his tongue over the dryness of his bottom lip. 
“I guess I’m just paranoid. But Felix…why did you say you knew everything about me? We’ve only met once before, and there were absolutely no words exchanged between us.”
He rubbed his hand against the nape of his neck, “I was just messing with you, Y/n.”
“Well it wasn’t funny! God, you scared the shit out of me…”
“Yeah, not my best work. Sorry.”
You shook your head, “It’s–fine. Just, God, don’t do that again. I almost had a panic attack!” you ran your hand over your sleeve-clad arm, an uncomfortable laugh falling from your lips. 
His face remained neutral, though the quirk of his lips betrayed the stoicness he was hell-bent on portraying. “I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again.”
You waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry too much about it. What’s done is done, so let’s just pretend it never happened, yeah?”
“Deal.”
He smiled, and it was at that moment you realised that his teeth were no longer razor-sharp points. They were…normal. Like normal human teeth. Perfect teeth, in fact. Pearly white and straight. But that was unrelated to anything. 
“Oh, you should eat by the way.” You nodded your head towards the tray of food on the side table, biting your lip. “I wasn’t sure what your diet consisted of and I also had no idea if serving you fish was…inconsiderate because of the fact that–well, you know. Uh, fish, and you being half-fish and whatnot, I–”
You took a breath. “I mean, you are half-fish, right? Um, I don’t mean to be rude or anything or uh, gosh, I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”
His face warmed up as he giggled lightly, “fish is fine, thank you.”
You exhaled a relieved breath, feeling much better. “In that case, eat up. I’m not the best cook but I’m not terrible. Just some simple soup and…fish and…fruit, if you want. There’s also tea, and water. Please, help yourself.”
He eyed the tray with bright eyes, hunger evident in the way he licked his lips. “This is all perfect. Thank you.”
“I feel like that’s all I hear from you.”
“Well, I am grateful.”
“If you finish, there’s more where that came from. Just let me know. About anything, actually…that you may need.” You blushed for whatever godforsaken reason. He was just so pretty.
Damn him.
“Will do.”
You inhaled deeply, clapping your hands together. “Okay! If that’ll be all, then I’ll leave you to it. But are you sure I shouldn’t call a doctor?” you asked, casting a sideways glance towards the wound that had now formed a coagulated crust across the surface. 
“I’m sure.”
You nodded hesitantly, fighting the urge to just do it anyway. “Alright then. Eat, rest. I’ll swing by later to check on you. Just shout if you need me.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Flashing him a small smile, you walked towards the door, hand reaching towards the wood before you paused. You turned back to look at him, and found that he had already been staring at you. With those crystal blue eyes focused intently on you and those full, pink lips drawn into a line. He smiled again, and it was perfect.
Your throat suddenly constricted, causing you to choke on air. But then you snapped yourself out of it. You walked through the threshold, softly shutting the door behind you. 
If you had lingered for a second longer, you’d see his saccharine smile fall into an intrigued smirk. 
-
“How are you going to get her to come here?”
“Leave that to me, hyung.”
-
────────────────────────
anyone else get the vibe that Felix is being real shady? hm, i wonder what that's about ;)
────────────────────────
Taglist: @lotus-dly @carronpatrick @seungmoa-main @fontainexpertrt @mirathe2002 @trashlord-007 @indelicate-macalino @jeonnyread @moasworld @xennophor @laylasbunbunny @jamlou512
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184 notes · View notes
christallise · 2 years
Text
fear of the water
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Summary: The ocean beckoned you with the sweet call of an otherworldly creature, with a voice woven with the divinity of heaven itself. It drew you in, threatening to suffocate you entirely.
Genre: Supernatural AU, Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Siren!Lee Felix, Female Reader
Tags: Lee Felix is a Siren, ergo: supernatural powers, manipulation (unplanned), pretty voices making people do crazy things, the consumption of human flesh (not explicit, merely mentioned), blood and injury, slight violence, slight cursing; drowning, near-death experience, awkward situations, mc is victim to Felix's abs and is a total simp (aren't we all), slight description of wounds, mentions of murder and death, implied past self-harm, more tags to come with each chapter
WC: 2.5k
A/N: i took the liberty to craft my own siren-lore for the purposes of this story so if anything doesn't make sense shoot me message. and no, we're still not proofread
Part 1 Part 2
Tumblr media
Some ancient call 
It started with flashes.
That I’ve answered before
The colour of eyes here.
It lives in my walls 
The sound of a voice there.
And it’s under the floor
Finally, a name. 
Y/n… 
Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.
Oh, how you sounded like a prayer come true to him. 
After that, it became insistent. The flashes became drawn-out scenes of a life that didn’t belong to him. He saw through eyes that weren’t his, breathed through lungs that were unfamiliar to his body. His mind was plagued with memories he couldn’t recall, underwent experiences that could never possibly be his. 
It was insanity. It was relief. It was everything and nothing all at once. 
It was living and dying.
It was a missing piece now settled in its rightful place. Slotting into the mould it was destined to fit into.
Then, came the physical aspects. The phantom pains and the unexplainable injuries appearing on his body. Sets of scratches on his forearms, neat and far too exact to be accidental. A throbbing in his stomach or a bruise on his hip. A cramp on the side of his tail where one would find the right leg on a human body. A mind-numbing pain in his skull. All things he could account to nothing he did of his own volition. 
Felix was never someone who could be considered clumsy or accident-prone. In fact, he was probably one of the more graceful members of his pack, with a certain attunement to his body and the ocean that few of his species possessed. In that way, all of the inexplicable little things suddenly occurring in his life made it all the more indicative of the process he was undergoing. 
The connection was furthered once an emotional tether was established. There would be moments he’d feel as if he was experiencing life from a different body. A different perspective or mindset. Thoughts that didn’t belong to him would filter through his mind, nothing more than whispers of words or a feeling He’d find himself wracked with crippling depression, appetite waning and desire to socialise diminishing entirely. Other times he’d be coloured with euphoria, energetic and restless to the point where Hyunjin or Chan would challenge him to a duel in a swimming tournament. 
But most of all…there was simply indifference. A numbness he couldn’t explain. Neither weighed down by pain nor floating with exhilaration. If he were to be honest, those bouts were always the worst, and they were the longest.
He’d rather feel too much of one thing than nothing at all. 
And then, one day…
He doubled over in agony, losing sight of the fish he was hunting as his lungs felt as if they were filled with lead, heavy and unforgiving as fire licked his veins the more he suffocated on the water he was suspended in. 
Before he knew it, he was drowning. 
Falling deeper and deeper, being pulled by an underwater current he couldn’t see. 
Mind seizing. 
No. 
No. 
No, no, no. 
This isn’t possible. 
His mouth opened against his will, a silent scream that could only be heard by his ears circled around him before succumbing to nothingness. He was dying he was dying he was dying-
And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Leaving him bereft and weightless despite the regaining of his senses.
In its place he was assaulted with the vision of waves, the feeling of helplessness, followed by an astute sense of resignation as all fight left the vessel his eyes were looking through. 
Without even thinking he swam. He swam and swam. Faster than had ever done in his few centuries of living. As if he were guided by some greater force, not even knowing where he was going, only knowing that it was exactly where he needed to go. Where he needed to be. 
And that’s when he saw you. 
Trapped amongst forceful waves that dragged you farther away from land and into the lightless depths of the ocean. A small, young thing. Too young to have resigned to a death over which you had no control. 
He couldn’t let that happen. 
Not now. 
Not-
Not ever. 
So he swam to you. To your cold, lifeless body that was suspended in the water like some macabre painting. Hair fanned out like a crown of death, limbs spread out, reaching for something, anything, that could save you from your water-logged grave.
And there he was, your saviour in his scaled armour. 
Your eyes were shut, bubbles escaping your lips and floating towards the surface.
He grabbed your wrist, marvelling at how small it looked in his already petite hand. He surged forward, manoeuvring your body through the water, to where light kissed the waves and rippled in gentle waves. 
He broke through the surface, pushing you upwards by placing his hands beneath your arms. He could tell you were alive, but barely. Pulse weak and fluttering sporadically in your neck. 
He took the opportunity to study your face with his own eyes for the first time. He was right in assuming you were young, as there was a careless youthfulness to your underdeveloped features. A child in human years, he was certain. 
But there was beauty there. In the soft innocence that lined your face. Beauty he was sure would blossom into something otherworldly as you grew. Seeing you outside of the glimpses he saw through your eyes was unlike he’d ever imagined. The bits and fragments he managed to catch in mirrors or reflections in glass did little justice to the fullness of your traits once combined. Your hair, your skin, your hands…just as he had seen them. Piecing together to form the entirety of you. 
It left him breathless. 
Left his heart searing with an agony unlike anything he’d ever experienced. 
Making him feel complete and yet entirely fractured.  
Is this what it felt like to see the other part of your soul? 
Absent-mindedly, he wondered if his brothers felt this way when they saw theirs. 
It wasn’t love. Not quite. It was admiration. Wholeness. And it was also disbelief and scepticism. He doubted he could ever love a child like that, questioned whether that was even ethical to begin with. Destiny or not, he’d never force a child into that role. And frankly, he was more than certain he could never even stomach it. 
You started to cough, water escaping your body in mouthfuls. Ragged, broken sounds left your throat as your body fought to expel the unwanted invader in your lungs.  
He was running out of time. He couldn’t let you see him. Not yet. 
Using the unbridled strength of the muscled appendage that was his tail, he propelled you forward, closer to the shore which seemed to be a hair's-breadth away now just as your eyes began to flutter open. You squinted against the salt that stung them, blinking rapidly to stave off the uncomfortable sensation. More coughs spewed from your mouth.
Slinking back into the dark waters, he watched you from afar, only until he confirmed that you had made it safely to land. Once he saw a woman who looked strikingly similar to you drag you to her shaking body, did he take his leave.
But some part of him could have sworn your eyes had found his just as he turned, his tail breaching the surface of the water before he delved deep into the ocean and disappeared from sight.
-
“You saw her, didn’t you?”
“...I did.”
“She’s human.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you bring her with you?”
“She’s not ready.”
-
His presentation was a long-awaited occurrence amongst his pack, an occasion that was once considered worthy of celebration and joy. For it was only once in a siren’s life where the divine creators would bestow upon them the knowledge of their lifelong mate, blessing them with glimpses of their life so that they could share a unique connection ordained by the gods themselves. . 
Of course, that’s what it should have been like. The way it had been for millennia after millennia for its significance in a young siren’s life. 
But it was tainted. Tainted and tattered and obscured by a cloud of pain and suffering. A result of the tragedy that had befallen the rest of his brothers, the way their respective mates died off, each in a manner more gruesome than the last.
Mutilated and murdered. 
A premeditated slaughterfest. 
By humans, no less. 
For nothing other than the depravity of sport.
Felix was the only one who was left, even though he wasn’t even the youngest of his pack. He was their last hope. The one who would complete their family once and for all. It was a heavy burden for someone so young relative to his eldest brothers’ ages, but it was his to bear, and his to bear alone. 
That went without saying that he had the eternal support of his family, but his life leading up to his presentation left much to be desired. Especially when half of his pack died and he was made aware of the responsibility that now lay on his shoulders. 
At times he felt almost as lost as a wayfaring seaman, with no aim or end goal in mind. And because of that, he didn’t even get to be a young, careless pup like the rest of them did. He didn’t get to experience the delight that came with his first unsupervised hunt, or the amazement one felt when their baby scales fell and gave way to their adult ones. 
It was positively maddening. 
Centuries worth of waiting, of finding the one fated to fit the cavernous hole in his existence. 
He was surprised to have made it as far as he did at all. 
But, he supposed, seeing you in the flesh was worth it. Perhaps your being human was a sign from the gods. Perhaps. 
Or maybe it was nothing at all. After all, a siren didn’t get to choose their mate. 
But it was enough for him. You were enough for him. More than, in fact.
After centuries of waiting, another decade seemed like nothing. 
So he’d wait for you.
And when you were of age, he’d come back for you.
Besides, it’s not like he wouldn’t know exactly what you were up to. 
-
“Stop.”
He sat up, pushing his back against the headboard of the bed as he levelled you with an unreadable gaze. “Stop what?”
“This,” you whispered, gesticulating wildly with your hand. “Whatever the hell you just did with my emotions.”
He tilted his head to the side, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. Though, of course, he did. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” he said instead. 
“One second I was fine and then the next I felt like crying my eyes out. Cut that out, Felix!”
“Y/n, I-”
“How do you even know my name?!”
His mouth shut almost instantly, but then his face drew into an irritated scowl as he pointed to the bookshelf. More specifically, the picture frame on top of a small stack of books. In it was a photo of you and your grandmother on the beach, holding a beautiful shimmering shell between both of your hands. The caption beneath it, written in a neat script, read: Y/n, Shelly, and Grammie - June 2008 xx
Your brows drew together as the tension in your body deflated, shoulders sagging as you sighed deeply. 
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say anything. Only ran his tongue over the dryness of his bottom lip. 
“I guess I’m just paranoid. But Felix…why did you say you knew everything about me? We’ve only met once before, and there were absolutely no words exchanged between us.”
He rubbed his hand against the nape of his neck, “I was just messing with you, Y/n.”
“Well it wasn’t funny! God, you scared the shit out of me…”
“Yeah, not my best work. Sorry.”
You shook your head, “It’s–fine. Just, God, don’t do that again. I almost had a panic attack!” you ran your hand over your sleeve-clad arm, an uncomfortable laugh falling from your lips. 
His face remained neutral, though the quirk of his lips betrayed the stoicness he was hell-bent on portraying. “I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again.”
You waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry too much about it. What’s done is done, so let’s just pretend it never happened, yeah?”
“Deal.”
He smiled, and it was at that moment you realised that his teeth were no longer razor-sharp points. They were…normal. Like normal human teeth. Perfect teeth, in fact. Pearly white and straight. But that was unrelated to anything. 
“Oh, you should eat by the way.” You nodded your head towards the tray of food on the side table, biting your lip. “I wasn’t sure what your diet consisted of and I also had no idea if serving you fish was…inconsiderate because of the fact that–well, you know. Uh, fish, and you being half-fish and whatnot, I–”
You took a breath. “I mean, you are half-fish, right? Um, I don’t mean to be rude or anything or uh, gosh, I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”
His face warmed up as he giggled lightly, “fish is fine, thank you.”
You exhaled a relieved breath, feeling much better. “In that case, eat up. I’m not the best cook but I’m not terrible. Just some simple soup and…fish and…fruit, if you want. There’s also tea, and water. Please, help yourself.”
He eyed the tray with bright eyes, hunger evident in the way he licked his lips. “This is all perfect. Thank you.”
“I feel like that’s all I hear from you.”
“Well, I am grateful.”
“If you finish, there’s more where that came from. Just let me know. About anything, actually…that you may need.” You blushed for whatever godforsaken reason. He was just so pretty.
Damn him.
“Will do.”
You inhaled deeply, clapping your hands together. “Okay! If that’ll be all, then I’ll leave you to it. But are you sure I shouldn’t call a doctor?” you asked, casting a sideways glance towards the wound that had now formed a coagulated crust across the surface. 
“I’m sure.”
You nodded hesitantly, fighting the urge to just do it anyway. “Alright then. Eat, rest. I’ll swing by later to check on you. Just shout if you need me.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
Flashing him a small smile, you walked towards the door, hand reaching towards the wood before you paused. You turned back to look at him, and found that he had already been staring at you. With those crystal blue eyes focused intently on you and those full, pink lips drawn into a line. He smiled again, and it was perfect.
Your throat suddenly constricted, causing you to choke on air. But then you snapped yourself out of it. You walked through the threshold, softly shutting the door behind you. 
If you had lingered for a second longer, you’d see his saccharine smile fall into an intrigued smirk. 
-
“How are you going to get her to come here?”
“Leave that to me, hyung.”
-
────────────────────────
anyone else get the vibe that Felix is being real shady? hm, i wonder what that's about ;)
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Taglist: @lotus-dly @carronpatrick @seungmoa-main @fontainexpertrt @mirathe2002 @trashlord-007 @indelicate-macalino @jeonnyread @moasworld @xennophor @laylasbunbunny @jamlou512
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christallise · 2 years
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Prince of the sea is the most beautifully written fic i’ve read on here 😭😭 I really can’t wait for the rest of the series but I bet it takes a long time to make art that good 😭😭 hope u are doing okay too love, hope your sleep gets better 💖
aaaa thank you so much, tbh it’s a challenging series because it really does take 100000% of my brain power so yeah it will probs take a while for the rest!!! thank you :< i hope so too!!
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christallise · 2 years
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i know i said i was back from hiatus but my mental health (mostly my sleep issues) are really fogging my brain as of late so writing is…hard. i’ll try and be back soon <3
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christallise · 2 years
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ur concept of car sex w/ chan got me: 😖🤯😳😵🙃😭😍
idea for the story/imagine if u like:
hmmm, ive always imagined (myself lol) w/ chan going on a drive like in an afternoon sunset where the skies are all pink and purple that kind of view 😍 maybe sth like that? and then to stop on a spot where the view of the sunset is just wOw 🌆😅... then both slowly just talking about how grateful they are to be their partner then the tension rises when chan touches/caresses y/n hand AJSYSGEKSLEJFRBKDLSHWVS hehehehe thank you for listening... - 🐺💌🐼
tysm, love lots!
LMAO so glad you liked it!! honestly it’s one of my fave things to think about because somehow i feel like chan would be down for car sex, with him being so busy and all
BUT the idea of chan and y/n going on a long summers evening drive and watching the sky shift in warm hues is so romantic ;__; it’s definitely something that chan would plan, like he is so the type to wanna watch the sunset with the person he loves the most 🥺 imagine sitting on the hood of his car, a gentle breeze flowing through your hair as you two kiss with that beautiful view ;;;
i will probably write a drabble about this since lots of people have asked already so if you don’t mind i’d like to use this scenario :>
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christallise · 2 years
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concept: whiny little perv jisung, lying flat against the bedsheet with his hands tied in a neat knot across his stomach. desperate and needy, wanting nothing more than for you to touch his aching cock; to bestow upon him the sweet release he desires that you so greedily covet. he’d wiggle and writhe when your hand just ghosts over his leaking tip and he’d beg for you to just give in. when you pout wryly he’d sob, so close to tears and when you taunt him, slowly beginning to pump your hand up and down his shaft, the tears flow. his hungry need to be touched overlooking the sensitivity overworking his nervous system. every swift movement sending shockwaves through his body while you gloatingly taunt him. “aw is it too much for my baby boy?” you’d say and jisung would just fucking lose it. he’d convulse as he cums, losing every droplet of dignity he had left as he colours your knuckles white and groans your name
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christallise · 2 years
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(inspired by this<333 by @christallise )
minho speaking in a condescending tone will always send me spiraling like did you hear his voice?? with THAT attitude???? you can't tell me he wasn't made for it.
"yeah? you like that? yea you do" HHHNNNGGG
"you gonna let me fill you up real nice, right baby?" it's not a question, he's merely informing you of what he's going to do, disguised as sugarcoated words that give you the faint illusion that you have a tinge of control.
have you seen his comebacks/replies? he never misses. minho is so good with words, honey dripping from his mouth, he'll patronize you and you won't even feel it.
200% uses it during overstim, "pretty baby wanna give me another one?" you physically can't handle it, but when he's looking at you so so sweetly (read: patronizing you with his gaze) could you possibly say no?
also this is random but adds well with the thought but THIS edit lives in my head rent free.
THE WAY HE SAYS "oh really?" THAT'S IT. THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN
minho would fake sympathy and pretend to listen when you fumble over your words to try and explain how you weren't being bad or that it's too much "oh really?" he coos, your words going from one ear and out the other, his hands not even halting as he eyes you down with so much adoration & so much lust, your begging teary eyes making his brain shortcircuit.
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christallise · 2 years
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You've been gone for a while, hope you are doing okay! I am excited for the next part of creatures of curiosity too <3
hello!! yes i've been trying to take a break from writing for a bit n i've had some personal stuff going on too BUT i'll be back :> EEE im actively working on it too just at a slower pace than the last!
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christallise · 2 years
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Bang Chan ✧ 2 kids room ep.22
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christallise · 2 years
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the most fun thing about being a fic author is when you know what’s supposed to happen but when you go to write it you realise that, for the event to be plausible, you need to add another 2k of development and establish like six extra things before you can even get to the scene you need to write, and by ‘most fun’ I mean fuck everything someone take this fucking story away from me I’m on strike
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christallise · 2 years
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“He’s not always that serious, the atmosphere is joyful when he’s working on music.” – Changbin
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christallise · 2 years
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waaaa my inspiration is wearing thin and i have so much to write from req to fics 🙃 brain please work again soon
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christallise · 2 years
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my head is like empty of juice right now but i swear i’m working on stuff ;;;;; sorry for the lack of content im just trying to recharge my brain
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christallise · 2 years
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nobody like you
pairing: chan x reader (afab) word count: 3.3k rating: 18+ warnings: spanking! marking! possession kink!! unprotected sex a/n: hello i'm back!!!!! a nice long fic for my return hehe. this was half written while i was stoned so yk if there's errors i'm sorry
summary: weeks pass after your breakup with chris and his number continues to burn a hole in your phone.
your friends had given you every reasonable explanation under the sun to block chris’ number, to completely rid your life of his presence. you’d blocked his social media accounts, you’d taken back the spare key to your apartment, you’d even changed the netflix password. but, night after night, your thumb hovered warily over the ‘block contact’ prompt in your phone. press it and he’s gone, it was that simple. maybe that’s why you hesitate. 
everyone had warned you it was no good to leave a communication line open between you. apparently chris has been pegged as the type of man to abuse such a thing. it almost stings when weeks pass since your messy breakup and you’ve not heard anything. no pleading texts that your friends assured you would eventually come. no voicemails. nothing.
now what were you supposed to do? move on? it was finally sinking in that you had broken up — a decision you made in earnest after too many arguments that never got resolved; it was for the best, and yet. you miss him. you miss everything about him. or maybe you miss a feeling of toxicity that was so shrouded in familiarity that it started to feel like home. 
so, you do what anyone in their heartbroken, wrong mind would do. you go out, get drunk and prowl for a rebound; a quick fuck that will hopefully be, at the very least, a bandage for the gaping wound chris had left in his absence.
the guy you bring home is nothing special. honestly, you don’t even remember his name. he barely fucks you before spilling into the condom embarrassingly early and you tell him to just go when he awkwardly asks you if you came yet. stuffing his flaccid cock back into his jeans, he leaves your place in a flash, head hung low in shame. 
so much for that.
rolling your eyes, you drag your hand down your naked body, dipping your fingers into the very bare minimum of wetness he’d procured. letting your mind wander, you begin rubbing slow circles against your clit. thinking about… well. chris. you frown at the thought. rather unwillingly, your mind visits memories of just how good chris could fuck. it might be the only thing you’ll miss in the long run. a smile returns to your face at the recollection, chris mercilessly pounding into you with a hand gripped around your throat. a moan tumbles from your mouth and you freeze. your eyes fall to the phone resting on the nightstand. or more, what’s inside the phone.
you try to seriously consider this. it has too much potential to go wrong. but you’re so hard up on the sheer thought of him that you don’t care. keeping your fingers pressed to your clit, you snatch up the phone in your free hand, swiping away furiously until you find his number. calling… now that would be risky. too much of a risk that you’re not willing to take. moaning again, you type out a message to him. 
you: can’t stop thinking about u and i’m wet af
the thought that chris might ignore you doesn’t occur until you hit send, throwing your message into the void. your anxiety is short lived however as your phone almost immediately buzzes with a response.
chris: yeah? miss me that bad? 
you: yeah. just had the worst fuck of my life
chris: is that so?
you keep chris’ penchant for possessiveness at the forefront of your mind for this conversation, smiling coyly at your phone while your fingers work slowly at your clit. 
you: i didn’t even get to finish :(
chris: that’s too bad. baby will just have to finish herself off
and, you do. with chris’ texts guiding you, you rub yourself all the way to orgasm, legs shaking, mouth agape. you picture him here, buried inside you, his phantom moans music to your ears. in the heat of the moment he’d often tell you that nobody could ever make you feel as good as he does, and you’re starting to think he might’ve been right. 
the sexting quickly becomes a habit. a little secret you and chris share. almost every night you find yourself in bed earlier than usual, tapping out all sorts of sordid promises to your ex boyfriend. you tell him you thought about him all day. you tell him your panties were soaked at work from imagining his cock in your mouth. he tells you you’re the nastiest little slut and he can’t believe he ever let you go.
eventually the daily dirty messages aren’t enough. the promises went broken. all that talk was just that… talk. as much of a mistake as it is, you type out a message telling chris to put his dick where his mouth is. it’s a late saturday evening and you may be two glasses of wine down. with your judgment hindered, you send the text. 
chris: knew you’d give in first
chris: i know you too well
that’s the last you hear from chris until he’s knocking at your front door. you’re barely revealed to him before he’s pouncing inside, attaching his body to yours, hands fastening around in your waist in that familiar furious fashion. you melt back into chris’ touch, each one of your senses set alight by memories of your intimacy burning fresh in your mind. 
in response, you kick the door closed with your foot and connect your arms around his neck, immediately leaning up to meet his mouth in a heady mash of lips, tongue and teeth. it’s everything you remember and more; firm, guiding but frenzied, driven by an insane lust that only you seemed to bring out in him. 
it doesn’t take long for his hands to roam, curious to feel every inch of skin that might’ve forgotten him. his hands dip to your ass, squeezing your flesh roughly before gliding back up and delving inside your t-shirt. his wandering fingers pause at the feeling of your bare breasts.
he smirks against your lips, pulling away just enough to talk. “what’s this?” he asks coyly, taking the entirety of your tits into his hands and kneading them slowly, “stripping for me before i even got here?” 
you could hardly deny it. not with the feeling of coarse skin colliding with your sensitive nipples tugging small, lewd moans from your mouth. neglecting to answer, you bury your head in the crook of his neck hoping a meek nod will suffice as an answer. 
it does not. made obvious by his playful chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. you’re expecting games, teasing. you’re not expecting him to suddenly tug your legs around his waist, hoisting you into the air and carrying you through the apartment to your bedroom — an old path that’s still fresh in his mind. 
you’re certain chris has something on his mind, so you wait, eager to please. he places your two feet on the floor once again, taking his seat at the edge of the bed and bringing you in between his thighs. “so,” he says, lifting your shirt slightly and peppering small kisses across your bare stomach, “you started stripping,” he says, fingers toying with the thin fabric of your pyjama shirt, “finish up for me, babygirl. wanna see you.” 
you meet his gaze for a few moments, and it reminds you of what you’re doing. who you’re doing it with. so, you do the adult thing and tug the shirt over your head off, breaking the eye contact and giving chris somewhere else to look. thankfully, the moment your breasts are exposed to him he’s busy, dragging his lips upwards in a hurry to cover your chest in kisses, bites and flicks of his tongue. 
just when you let your eyes flutter shut and your head roll back in pleasure, chris halts suddenly. you assume sense has overcome him but when you open your eyes to survey him… you see his gaze frozen, pointed on a particular spot on your chest. 
“chris—“ 
you try to query but he quickly cuts you off. “what’s this?” he asks, his fingers grazing over the expanse of skin in question. 
ah. you remember now. a souvenir left behind by another shitty fuck you had recently. a fuck you purposely sought out to alleviate the want—need for chris. well, the guy was as lacklustre as you expected… in fact he had some serious gall to sign his work with a hickey. now, he had also had the audacity to try and ruin another fuck. not on your watch. 
pressing your thigh to chris’ groin, you let your head fall shamefully. “wanted someone to make me feel good…” you admit, your voice meek. 
chris holds your waist firmly with one hand while his other hand snakes round to your backside. “wanted someone to make you feel good?” he repeats, dragging your pyjama bottoms down and down, underwear in tow. 
“yeah,” you tell him, holding his head in your hands, pressing your chest to his face, “just wanted somebody to fuck me so i could close my eyes and think about you.” your honestly surprises even yourself. 
“is that so?” chris murmurs, pushing a curt laugh out through his nostrils, “was he convincing?” you feel his hands hover steadily over your exposed ass. 
you shake your head, “no… nobody fucks like you,” you tell him. and you probably mean it. leaning down, you start pressing kisses into chris’ unruly curls, breathing in the familiar scent of his tea tree shampoo — it sends your mind careening into memories of your fingers in his hair, of his head on your pillow. 
“mm, and you still let him leave a mark, yeah?” chris asks, his voice is stern but he can’t stop himself from pressing his head further into your touch. 
“i’m sorry,” you breathe the words into his forehead, rocking your thigh against his tightly packed cock.
clearly, he’s unconvinced as he raises a hand only to bring it down harshly on your bare ass. the sting rings loud in your ears, the piercing hot pain sending sears of pleasure straight to your pussy. you could never deny that chris knows how to hurt good. he does it again, striking your ass cheek with his open palm, relishing the way you tense in anticipation. 
“tell me, babygirl,” he murmurs, biting over the purple mark your previous lay had left behind, “how many guys since me?” he sucks your skin whilst waiting for an answer, painting over the sickening stain with his own teeth and tongue.
it’s a small number, but still one you’re ashamed to admit. “three,” you tell him truthfully. three guys, each one worst than the last, or perhaps that was just the illusion chris drew up for you after you resorted to texting him after each failed one night stand; begging for him to virtually finish the job they couldn’t do with you laid out bare before them. “three guys. no more.” you say to reaffirm. 
when he’s finished marring your chest, he looks up to you, boyish grin plastered on his beautiful face, tongue poking through his teeth, “wow, three guys and none of them could fuck you like i can.” he’s so smug, and with every reason to be. “still,” he continues, fingers dancing over your reddened backside, “three is three too many.” 
to your dismay, chris pushes you away, holding you firmly at arms length. he shimmies back on the bed until the back of his knees hit the mattress. “over my knee.” he commands, taking hold of your hand and guiding your body across him. you follow suit, of course, shimmying out of your final constraints of pyjama shorts and underwear, revealing yourself fully to him before laying sideways atop his lap, ass perched upwards. “you gonna count for me, babygirl?“ he asks with a coo. 
his free hand finds your face, holding your jaw, keeping your head place. your response is a nod held within his gentle grip. 
his hand slowly retracts upwards, slamming back down against the curve where your ass meets your thigh; the sharp pain rolls out in dull waves throughout your lower body. you gasp, whimper and moan all at once. “one,” you breathe out, taking a deep breath and preparing for another smack. 
the next one is harder, louder. it leaves tears stinging the corner of your eyes. chris’ fingers playfully skim over the fresh red marks that adorn your ass, he admires his work whilst waiting for you to count. 
“t-two.” you mewl as chris’ hand squeezes your face tighter in his grip. 
weeks and weeks of teasing texts and you still hadn’t had the sweet satisfaction of his hands or cock inside you; truly, you were starting to go mad, the fresh addition of pain only highlighting how neglected your cunt is feeling. all you can do is squeeze your thighs together and hope chris is merciful with you. 
another slap lands on your ass, the hardest one yet. you cry out something caught between a moan and a sob, your back arching from the intensity. “three,” you hiss, sucking air in through your clenched teeth. the slaps are quick, fleeting but the pain throbs in blunt waves throughout your entire body. 
“good girl.” chris simpers at you, massaging your cheek with his thumb, “three. one for every guy you’ve had up here.” 
you smile at the praise, leaning your head into his gentle touch. he almost makes you forget the circumstances which brought you both here; it’s unspoken but it hangs in the air, heavy, like the sky before the rain. 
“i hate thinking about other guys with their hands on you,” chris says, breaking the lengthy silence that hung between you whilst his fingers soothed the pained skin of your backside.
“forget them,” you whisper, suddenly sitting upwards and straddling chris, “make me forget them.” you grind your bare pussy against him, the damp spot you leave behind doesn’t go unnoticed. 
you hear something akin to a growl stick in chris’ throat and next thing you know he’s taking a rough grip of your arms and shoving you back-first onto the bed. he stands up and rods himself of all his clothes, making quick work of it whilst you lay there, staring holes into the ceiling, wondering when the regret will sink in—wondering if it already has. 
luckily, chris’ body soon collides with your own again, knocking the guilt clean out of you, for now. you breathe him in, deeply, holding onto his scent like he might disappear; and you’re certain that, after this late night session, he will. wrapping your arms around his body, you bring your chests together, both of your ragged breaths falling in a shaky rhythm. 
chris kisses you, his lips relentless, tongue darting into your mouth, desperate to taste you again. you submit entirely to the will of his mouth, letting him ravish you while your hands roam across his broad chest, simply taking in the sensation of his hot skin under your fingers. 
“chris. please.” you whimper, breaking the kiss, “need you inside.” you rut against him, hoping to get your point across. 
“mm, really?” chris asks, a coy twang to his voice, “why don’t you just bring some other guy up here and have him fuck you?” he sits upwards now, letting his cock rest on top of your pussy and looking down at you with raised eyebrows. 
“because,” you whine, throwing your head backwards into the mattress, hoping a simple ‘because’ will suffice but also knowing it won’t.
as expected, chris merely tilts his head to the side, feigning confusion. “because? use your words, babygirl.” 
you whine in defiance but relent anyway, “nobody’s like you.” and saying it out loud felt like solidifying the statement, carved into stone. nobody’s like chris. 
you might’ve dwelled on it, but chris is smarter than to let you; he pushes his cock inside your aching cunt, making you his all over again — as if you ever were not. the feeling fills you and empties you all at once, a lust laden guilt spreading through your very veins, erupting from your mouth in the most depraved of shrieks. chris winces as you clamp around his cock, sucking the air in through his teeth and stilling himself inside you, letting you both adjust to the sensations. 
“can’t believe you let other guys touch you here,” chris growls, his thumb rubbing tantalising circles around your clit, his eyes meet yours suddenly, his gaze accusing, “did you let them finish inside?” 
you shake your head, “no!” and chris smiles. smiles and retracts his hips from you before slamming back into your heat, throwing his head back as your pussy clamps around him. 
he lets his chest fall against yours, propping himself up with one hand and gripping your waist with the other. “only want. my cum in you.” he says through gritted teeth, thrusting in you with pained restraint, teasing the moans from your throat rather than fucking them straight out of you. 
your sloppy attempts to match the rhythm of his hips is met with a cooing giggle, so cute, he breathes, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. instead of slackening his pace for you, chris only ups the intensity of his bucking hips, stuffing you with his cock over and over and over again until your eyes roll back in your head. 
“want— want chris. cum inside.” you cry out, your ability to form coherent sentences slipping from you the more chris relentlessly fucks you into the bed below. 
chris barely responds, throwing a low moan of approval your way, his own mind awash with the thought of his cum —and only his cum— filling every inch of your pussy. he grins at the thought, peering down at your pleasure-stricken face, watching in fascination as the waves of euphoria sweep over your features. he suddenly pauses his movements, only for a second, before throwing his hips back into you, watching the very shriek that he coaxes out of your mouth.  
“every time you fuck someone else, want you to be only thinking about me.” 
and you nod, you nod your head furiously, yes, yes, yes. he could ask anything of you right now and you’d give him it. you’d pull the stars from the sky if he asked. you wrap your legs around him, handing control of your body over to him and his ruthless rutting, letting him ride you into your sweet release. 
eventually, you collide, your orgasms ripping through your bodies; chris fucks faster and faster, filling you with his cum, spurred on by the string of curses and shrieks you let out as the pleasure surges through every vein in your body. 
after riding out the final waves of his orgasm, chris collapses atop you, breaths ragged and hot against your ear. there’s an uncomfortable stillness suddenly hanging in air, replacing the thick lust that had, until now, clouded your actions. with the desire tinged fog now cleared, you see the situation for what it is and the euphoric high is quickly replaced by devastating shame. 
you wince as chris pulls out of you, more shame dripping from you, staining your thighs, your bed, your very mind. the weight of his body leaves you, exposing your naked, marked body to the empty room; you tug the sheets over your form, shivering at the sudden loss of warmth paired with the dizziness of coming down from such an orgasmic high. chris doesn’t look at you as he tugs his clothes back on, you don’t look at him either.
“text me if you need me again.” 
and you’re certain you will. 
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