#Chris bang smut

[andysorbit]

I saw a video of Chan manhandling the other members and now I'm thinking about free use Chan so... walk with me for a moment yall

minors DNI

Chan would buy you a consent bracelet: if you're wearing it, your body is not your own.

which wrist you wear it on depends on what you're open to

left wrist means you're open to gentle free use

gentle free use is chan gently taking you against the shower wall

pushing your legs apart and eating you out first thing in the morning with slow lazy flicks of his tongue and his teeth softly scraping your clit

or fucking you with his tongue while his nose (lord that man and his beautiful fkn nose) gently nudges at your clit

whispering praises against your ear while he's fucking you

"such a good girl... I love using you just as much as you like being used"

pins you down and manhandles you... but lovingly

"That's it... take my cock, baby"

loves exploring your mouth with his tongue

loves sucking and softly biting your nipples

lazily sucks your nipples while you're on top

likes feeling your hands on his biceps

likes watching you suck his fingers while he's fucking you

heavy into slow and deep strokes

kisses all over your face while he's throttling you missionary

will snowball with you after he cums in your mouth

obsessed with eye contact

will throttle you into the mattress

so vocal

will definitely get pussy drunk and overstimulate you while he's eating your cunt greedily

will also overstimulate himself while he's pounding you until he's whining and trembling just as much as you are

right wrist means he can do his absolute worst

oh you're doing something in the kitchen? he's coming up behind you, shoving you down on the counter, and fucking you

likes that he can use you to destress

using you means fucking your throat until you're a mess of tears, spit, and cum

"fucking gag on it, bitch"

it could mean forcing himself into you before you're fully ready to receive him

means holding his hand over your mouth and nose while he's fucking you stupid

"Oh it's too much? Shut up, it isn't. Don't be a fucking crybaby over something you asked for"

loves gripping you by your throat

moves you roughly into the position he wants you in

pinches your nipples too hard

mocks you

"Oh don't push me away... fucking take it. Take my cock... oh it hurts?... Good."

loves slapping your face and spanking your ass

loves spitting on your lips and in your mouth

gets off on your tears

"Cry, little girl... yeah cry for me. you know I love seeing you fucked out and stupid for me... bet you don't even know what you're crying for at this point"

cums on your face

aftercare king

you definitely have bruises on your wrists from him pinning you down

#neoculturecollectives #k-labels #kvanity #kpop smut #ambw kpop #kpop ambw #skz hard hours #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #stray kids ambw #stray kids smut #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #bang chan hard hours #bang chan smut black reader #bang chan smut #christopher bang smut #chris bang smut #stray kids x plus sized reader #stray kids x black!reader #bang chan #christopher bang #chris bang

[thefantasyden]

OT8 Stray Kids sending you horny rants while you're out (fake text)

Ooft this had me sweating. No warnings I can think of? Raunchy as fuck obviously.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #lee know smut #chan smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut #jeongin smut #seungmin smut #jisung smut #han smut #chris bang smut #hyunjin smut #minho smut #stray kids text #thefantasyden

[torialefay]

Do You Want to Try?

daddy!chan x virgin!reader smut 🔞

✨synopsis: chan makes sure you feel comfortable during your first time <3

✨request from: @whatudowhennooneseesyou

✨ word count: ~3.4k

✨warnings: this is literally just smut, so minors dni; uses nicknames like daddy and babygirl, but this is NOT meant to in any way mirror a DD/LG scenario… absolutely no age play here

• “Do you want to try?” Chan asked, watching you wiggle on the bed, his eyes growing big.

~

~

• The two of you had been together for a couple of months. With Chan being the gentleman he is, he never explicitly brought up sex, although you could tell he wanted to.

• You weren’t oblivious to the way he would creep his hand up your thigh and hold it there, right on the inside. Sometimes he would lightly squeeze and pretend he wasn’t watching you to gage your reaction.

• Sometimes he would go as far as to walk up behind you while you were in the kitchen cooking, holding onto you from behind and pressing his growing boner against you.

• You knew what he wanted, but you also knew he’d never explicitly bring it up unless you gave him some sort of a signal.

• What Chan didn’t know is that you were a virgin.

• Were you embarrassed? Maybe a little. You knew you didn’t need to be. Chan would never judge you for something like that… And it wasn’t like he didn’t have his sneaking suspicions about it.

• He knew he made you red and nervous when he would act up around you. He thought it was way too cute. It honestly made him want to get you flustered even more. Teasing you and making subtle remarks with the tiniest hints of want in them.

• But you’d still never said it aloud. Until one day, you couldn’t help it.

• STAYs thirsted over Channie like none other. You didn’t mind it much because… hey, he’s the hottest thing ever. But after reading one post in particular, you got a bit of inspiration. It started to make you think… What if Chan really didn’t mind? What if he could show you the ropes.

• The thread was talking about Chan being into the “daddy” kink, and how he’d be very dominant but loving. It got you thinking if it was really true. And the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to test it. You couldn’t help but get a little wet thinking about him getting horny for you anyways.

• So you decided to try your best to push the nerves beside you and let yourself try something new.

• When Chan came home, you’d been waiting for him in the bedroom. Normally, you’d have been in the kitchen or the living room, so he didn’t expect to find you here. He especially didn’t expect you to be sitting on the bed as soon as he stepped in the door, pulling for his hand to bring him closer to you.

• “Channie, can you sit with me for a second?” you asked as you pulled him right to you. A look of worry spread across his face. Instead of sitting on the bed next to you, he opted to kneel right in front of you on the floor so his face could be right in front of yours.

• “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked.

• “I need to tell you something. It’s something I should have talked to you about a long time ago, but I was embarrassed.”

• “Alright, what is it?”

• “Well, I… Well you probably already figured it out, but I’ve never really had sex before…” you looked toward the corner of the room, too nervous to make eye contact with him. “And I just want you to know that I’ve been picking up on your signals, but I’ve just never done anything like that before and I really don’t know what I’m doing. Or even where to start.”

• Chan squeezed your hand, and stroked around it with his thumb, signaling for you to look back at him.

• “Do you want to try?” Chan asked, watching you wiggle on the bed, his eyes growing big.

• “I think so… I think you’d make me feel comfortable. If you’ll walk me through it?” you got the courage to say.

• Chan took your face in his hands. “Of course I will, sweetheart.” He planted a kiss to your cheek.

• As he backed his face up, he grinned.

• “And Channie, one more thing?”

• “Yes?” He leaned back until he was situated again kneeling on the ground.

• “Would you like it if I called you Daddy?”

• He smiled for a split second, not believing what he’d just heard.

• “Oh baby girl,” he said, lifting himself to his feet. He gently pushed you down so you were laying on the bed. “You don’t even know,” he smiled and threw his body down next to you. He moved himself closer into you so he could kiss your neck.

• This, you were used to. Things had gotten steamy before, but it never led past kissing. This you knew you could do well. You laid back and enjoyed the sensation of his lips connected to your neck.

• “Alright baby, I’m gonna move my hands around you a little bit. If there’s something you don’t like, you let me know and we’ll stop, okay?” He breathed out.

• Getting bolder now, knowing he was thoroughly enjoying giving this new experience to you, you replied back. “Yes daddy.”

• Chan must have really liked that, responding by biting down into your neck. The pain was there, but it was more pleasure than anything. You loved the way it felt.

• Chan slowly moved his hands along your body. Starting at your waist, he traced up and down your hips as he leaned up to join his lips with yours. He crept his hands slowly along the outline of your body until they were resting lightly over your boobs. He gave one a light squeeze and waited for your response.

• You let out a tiny moan, encouraging him to give you more. It felt good to have him massage you so gently. You always thought of sex as something to be nervous about, but maybe with Chan’s it would just be something to focus on making you feel taken care of.

• You felt as Chan started massaging harder and squeezing around, moving to the other breast.

• “Is it okay if I go under your shirt baby?” He asked.

• You nodded in response, not sure if you could really form sentences during this yet.

• He snaked his hand underneath the fabric and let it slide up your stomach until he reached the top of your bra. Scooping his hand around the top and under your boob, he gently moved the fabric of the bra to the side, exposing your breast slightly.

• Not daring to move his lips off of yours again, he slowly moved his fingers around your nipple, letting it get hard from the sensation. And you had to admit, it felt damn good. Slowly, he worked his way up to rubbing harder before taking it in between his fingers and rolling it around. You moaned at how good the pressure felt. You felt Chan smile, breaking the kiss.

• As he moved his hand to begin on the other breast, he moved his head to rest beside yours.

• “Daddy wants to watch you now, okay? I need to see your pretty face to make sure you like it.”

• “Okay,” you got out sheepishly. Suddenly, you felt a bit self-conscious knowing that Chan was going to be watching your every move. You tried to sink down into the mattress to ignore it and instead focus on the feeling of Chan on your other breast. He rubbed and pinched and rolled his fingers around under you were writhing underneath him.

• He let out a small chuckle at how cute you looked. “Feel good baby?”

• “Yes daddy.”

• “How about we get these clothes off of you? I’ll be careful and we’ll go slow, okay?”

• You nodded in agreeance. Chan took that as his cue to raise himself up off the bed and take his time with lifting your shirt off of you. He took special care as he reached around you to unclasp your bra at the back, digging his hands into the mattress to get there and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He didn’t want you to have to lift a finger.

• He slid your pants down and off of you, hooking your underwear as well so that they went with the rest.

• You felt so exposed like this. Completely naked in front of someone for the first time. It was scary, and Chan could pick up on that feeling.

• “Don’t be nervous baby, you are so so beautiful,” he said, sliding his body back to lie down next to yours. One arm held him propped up on an elbow, leaving the other to rub up and down your body.

• “Can daddy move down lower now?” He asked, once he’d settled in right next to your ear, planting small kisses to the outside of it.

• “Mmhmm,” you managed to get out.

• Chan walked his hand down to your pussy, making sure to massage all around the area before focusing in on your middle. Once he got there, he stopped himself. “This is going to make you feel good, okay? I need you to tell me when it starts feeling good, and I’ll keep doing that. Got it?”

• You writhed underneath him in anticipation. “Got it.”

• “Good girl,” he whispered, planting another kiss to your earlobe. He let a couple of fingers work themselves between your folds, admiring quickly how wet you were for him.

• “Do you feel how wet you are? That’s so good honey. I’m so proud of you.”

• You blushed in response, focusing on the feeling of his finger tips.

• He worked them slowly to where he felt your clit. You jumped a little at the sudden sensitive feeling, not knowing how to respond.

• Chan chuckled. “That’s supposed to be the part that makes you feel good. Daddy’s gonna go slow, and you should start to feel it.” He didn’t ask for permission now.

• He slowly started to move his fingers up and down over your clit. You felt your breath hitch. He continued for a little while before beginning to rub small circles around it, sending you into overdrive. Your breath started to quicken.

• “Oh good girl,” he cooed down at you. “So that’s what you like, huh?” He beamed. “Does that feel good? Tell me how it feels.”

• “It feels so good Channie.”

• “Perfect,” he smiled into you. “Daddy’s gonna move down there to get a taste, okay? I promise I won’t stop making it feel good.”

• Chan continued to rub you in just the same way until he slid himself down to where his face was hovering just over your pussy. With his tongue stuck out, he made his way in, licking up and down the folds at first. He then moved to your clit, taking over his previous motions to begin with his tongue. He felt you jolt up slightly at the new feeling, letting out a slight moan in the process.

• He hummed into you in response, the vibrations making you feel a new sensation. You suddenly didn’t know why you’d been scared to tell him for so long. Feeling him wrap his tongue up in you was the most loving, erotic sensation you’d ever felt. And god, if it didn’t make you feel like the most special person in the world.

• “Keep your eyes on daddy,” Chan said. He wasn’t mean, but you knew better than to argue him. As you looked down, you almost came immediately at the sight. His curls were tousled in every direction as his hands splayed across your hips, holding you down into him.

• When his eyes came up to connect with yours, you wanted to jump out of your skin. The look on his face of watching you, knowing how good he was making you feel was overstimulating. He kept circling your clit at just the right pace. You were sure you were going to go over the edge any second.

• Your breathing started to pick up and you felt a twitch down your leg.

• Chan brought a finger up to push inside of you slowly, wanting to give you a tiny bit more stimulation. You could feel the small extra pressure it gave to you, and coupled with how sensitive you were, you were doing everything you could to hold on. It just felt too fucking good. You felt yourself lose all thoughts and begin to drift off.

• Chan disconnected his lips from your cunt for a single moment. “Cum for daddy, baby,” he instructed before going right back to his tiny circles on your clit. Looking at his face and hearing his demand was the last thing you needed to reach your climax. Your hands flew down to his hair to hold onto his head as your legs began to twitch around him and the warm feeling spread out from your clit to the rest of your body. You suddenly started to convulse around him, moaning out for him with every last breath. You couldn’t control yourself as Chan kept lapping at you, holding your hips down to make sure you didn’t miss out on any feeling of the pleasure he could give you.

• Once he was satisfied that you were done, he lifted his face from you and raised his body up until he was resting on his knees. He smiled down at you and how out of it you looked.

• “Mmm did that make you feel good, sweetheart?” He smiled, rubbing and massaging along your thighs. You didn’t even know how to respond to that considering the way he just made you feel. You just nodded your head and smiled, moving your arms to stretch them out over your head and then cover your face in slight embarrassment.

• “How about you let daddy stretch you out a little now?” He asked, already bringing his dick to your entrance to move it around against the wetness of your lips. “Come on, don’t cover that beautiful face. Let me see you.”

• You moved your hands and arms away from your face and brought them together, clasping to each other on your chest. Chan just smiled down, admiring how cute you looked for him.

• “That’s more like it… Now, I’m gonna start slow okay? You’ll let me know if it starts to hurt or if I’m going to fast?”

• “Yes…” you whispered out, not knowing if you were really ready or not.

• “Yes what?” he peered down, stern look now on his face.

• “Yes daddy.”

• With that, he slowly began to inch himself into you. One hand resting on your thigh, the other rested just at the underside of his dick to stabilize himself as he entered. He watched intently as your pussy slowly started to open up for him, making sure to go as slowly as he possibly could. Then he made sure to go back and fixate on your face, now with furrowed brows and lips parted open.

• He continued in silence until he was all the way in, letting himself rest inside for just a moment. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” he huffed out, throwing his head back. “I feel like if I start moving, I’m going to tear you apart.”

• He slowly moved himself back, centimeter by centimeter until he was pulled out of you, then slowly pushing back in. He continued this a couple more times until he could tell you were more comfortable. The look on your face had changed from uncertainty to one of actual pleasure. He could tell.

• “You’re taking me so well baby. I knew you’d be a good girl for me.” He finally let himself pull all the way back before ramming into you.

• You let out a loud moan in response, which only agged Chan on more.

• He started to thrust again, faster this time. “Oh, is that how my girl likes it? You like it like that, huh?”

• “Yes, Channie,” you moaned.

• “Ah ah ah,” he stopped pumping for a second.

• “I mean, yes daddy!” you breathed out again.

• With that, Chan picked back up, bringing himself in and out of you with a steadily quickening pace. You could tell he was getting worked up the more he pumped.

• He started to hump into it, more than just strokes now. He was getting deeper into you. You let out a rattling sigh at how good it felt.

• Something almost animalistic came over Chan. He almost looked like he wanted to consume you. His jaw locked and his eyes fixated on your face before spitting out at you every last thought he had in his mind.

• "You like it when your daddy fucks you like this, don’t you? You like letting daddy ruin you for anyone else. Being my good little perfect girl. So good for me, letting me fuck you however I want. You don’t want daddy to stop, do you?”

• At that, Chan started to pound into you, getting relentless now. His face was focused, almost looking mad. He hit the spot that you now knew would be the end of you. He kept hitting it and hitting it until you knew you weren’t going to be able to take it anymore.

• “No, don’t stop. Don’t stop,” you panted out. “Please don’t stop. It feels so good,” you were about to cry at this point, not recognizing this feeling. The feeling of breathlessness and pressure, building up, slowly working you to a point you weren’t yet familiar with.

• Chan began to moan violently, forcing himself into you with no remorse. He violently held onto your hips, slamming them down into him as he fucked you. He was going to make sure you felt all of them.

• “So good and tight… God.. FUCK,” he yelled, throwing his head back. He slammed himself in. “Fuck baby, you’re gonna make me cum.. Don’t give into me yet. You can take it. Keep fucking taking it.” He fucked himself into your as hard and fast as he could, bottoming out every time. He hit way up into your cervix and for a moment, you thought you might pass out.

• “Fucking take it, princess. Fucking take me,” he yelled, not able to stop himself.

• “Yes daddy,” you replied back, borderline crying now. He was just too good. It was all way too good.

• Hearing your new name for him was the last thing he needed. “I’m cumming... Fuck I’m cumming. Holy shit,” Chan quickly pulled himself out of you, quickly jerking his dick back and forth as cum shot out of him and onto your stomach. "Fuckkkkkkk." He couldn’t help but moan the entire time, looking at how pretty you looked with his cum all over you.

• You winced underneath him, never having seen this sight before. This was the hottest you’d ever seen him. And to think, he was doing all of this over you.

• He stroked himself up and down until every last drop of cum was out, growling at the last few drops.

• “Shit baby, hold on just a second,” he said, once he’d finally caught his breath.

• He took a few steps to the bathroom, coming back with a wet cloth to clean you off with.

• As you also had finished catching your breath, he came back up to lay himself beside you, bringing the covers up with him. He raised your head up to extend his arm underneath, and then rested it back on top of him so that you were propped up into him.

• “I’m sorry baby, I should have asked you before doing all of that at the end. I don’t know what came over me. Was it okay? Did it feel okay?”

• You took a few seconds to look into his eyes, suddenly full of love and worry.

• “It was perfect Channie. You were perfect.” You smiled at him. He shot you a huge smile back, nuzzling his head into yours and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

• “I’m so glad. You were perfect for me too. I’m so honored I could be your first.”

• You thought your heart would explode from how much love you felt for this man.

• After giving you another kiss on the cheek and lying his head down to rest on top of yours, he whispered into you. “And hopefully I’m going to be your last too.”

———————————————————————————

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#bangchan smut #chris bang smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #bangchan imagines #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #bangchan scenarios #bang chan #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #christopher bang #stray kids x reader #chan skz

[sluttywonwoo]

oct 3rd

bang chan x f!reader

smut mdni; unprotected sex, lil bit of degradation/dumbification

“ready for bed, rockstar?”

chris laughs, shaking his wet curls out with the same towel he’d used to dry his body after showering.

“not quite,” he calls from the bathroom as he hangs the the towel up.

you wrack your brain, going through the steps of his nighttime routine in your head. “what’s left to do?”

he smirks. “you.”

you roll your eyes but giggle as he leaps onto the bed and smothers you with his body weight, not even putting up a fight when he starts yanking at the covers to get the blankets off you.

“i don’t even know why i bother with pajamas,” you complain, again not stopping your boyfriend from unbuttoning the top of your matching set. “i always end up naked anyway.”

“i know,” chris hums. “you should be more like me.”

“yeah? showing myself off shirtless to the whole world all the time?”

he pouts. “that’s not what i meant.”

“i know, i know. but you’re lucky i’m good at sharing, by the way. the amount of pictures of your tits that pop up on my social media feeds would make a lot of girlfriends upset.”

“you know the algorithm curates said feeds based on what you’re interested in, so you’re really just telling on yourself,” chris mumbles, slipping your shorts off along with your underwear.

“who wouldn’t be into your tits? i’m not ashamed!”

“well, they’re all yours, baby.”

“tell that to stays,” you mutter.

he chuckles and strokes your face fondly before pushing his thumb into your mouth to get you to suck on it. “they can look but only you can touch.”

you release his thumb from between your lips with a smug grin.

“lucky me.”

the aforementioned smug grin falters when your boyfriend brings his hand down and starts using that same thumb to rub your clit.

“fuck, chris,” you moan, fingers curling around his wrist.

“god, you’re soaked already… what’s this about?”

“seeing you on stage tonight,” you choke out, “you know what you did.”

“ah, did you like my solo stage, baby?” he taunts.

“fuck you.”

“yeah, i thought you would. didn’t know you’d like it this much though.”

he speeds up and you arch your back, pushing your hips into his touch. he kisses you as he works you to the edge, trying to swallow your moans so you don’t get another noise complaint. chris tries to think about who you’re sharing a wall with tonight. he knows it’s one of the boys because he was the one given all of the room keys to hand out to the members when they checked in but he couldn’t remember which one was supposed to be right next door. was it seungmin? lino? whoever it is, he hopes they're already asleep.

“what is it, baby? are you close?”

you start to nod but then shake your head. “want you,” you whine.

“you have me,” he whispers.

"want you to fuck me," you clarify.

"oh really?"

you tug at his arm, motioning for him to get on top of you. he obliges and you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him even closer. it works but he doesn't slide inside of you just yet. instead, he teases you with it, moving his hips like he would if he were fucking you.

“need me to stretch you out first?” he asks.

“nah, you have to get up early in the morning we should make this quick.”

“how romantic,” he scoffs.

“you felt how wet i was! i don’t need anything else. just your cock.”

he sighs, hanging his head. "fine."

"don't be so dramatic," you murmur. "if you're that torn up about it you can wake me up with your fingers. or use them to push your cum back inside of me after you fuck me."

chris buries his head in your shoulder, whimpering out a quiet "fuck" against your neck as his cock twitches between your legs.

"i love you," he moans.

"i know," you reply. "i love you too."

chan finally pushes into you, just the head at first, but it's enough to get you to moan.

"shh, baby. don't want the neighbors to hear."

you nod in understanding, biting your bottom lip. "sorry."

"s'okay. i know it feels good."

"feels so good, channie," you agree.

he lifts an eyebrow. "channie already? wow, baby, you're even further gone than i thought."

"c-can't help it."

"i know. only takes an inch of cock to turn you into my soft girl, huh?"

"mhm."

"what'll happen if i give you more? are you sure you'll be able to take it?"

you tighten your thighs around chan's hips, trying to force him deeper inside of you. he's much stronger than you, though, and easily resists your efforts.

"i can take it!"

"you sure?"

"yes, i'll be good! i'll be so good!"

"i know you'll be good," chris chuckles. "you're always- almost always good for me. i'm just worried any more of my cock will make you completely brainless."

"so? when has that ever stopped you before?"

"good point."

"please, chris," you beg, tears gathering on your lash line.

"it's back to chris? what happened to channie?"

"i'll call you whatever you want if you fuck me," you promise, moving on from begging to bargaining.

"i don't care what you call me-"

"oh, hyun-"

"except my friends' names," he mutters, scoffing in disbelief. "that desperate you're resorting to brattiness now? i should just pull out and-"

"no, please! i'm sorry!"

"i'm sure you are."

you want to point out that you know he loves it when you're a little bratty, that he gets off on it, but you also know that it won't help your case.

"i'll make it up to you," you say instead.

"yeah? how?"

"you'll find out."

"is it by making me cum?"

you purse your lips. "maybe?"

he rolls his eyes. "fine, but i bet i'll make you cum first."

you offer him your hand and shake on it despite not discussing any terms or stakes.

"you're on."

#hbd channie #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #bangchan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x female reader #christopher bang smut #chris bang smut

[citysweet]

一 chris teaching you how to give head

♡ except i have no idea how to give head

♡ might actually delete this.

♡ 1154 wc

it was 4 months into your relationship, but it's not like you haven't fucked. you have, plenty. you were just shy when it came to giving him oral. but chris being the sweetheart he is, he didn't push it onto you (bare minimum be fr). until you decide to bring it up while you're cuddled up in his lap. you lift your head, looking up at him. "channie?"

"yes princess?" he asks, knowing you only call him that when you want something. when you nervously stay quiet, he speaks up again, "what's up angel?" you turn your head back, unsure how to ask him. he softly grabs your chin, turning your head back to face him. he nods, waiting for you to continue.

"um..i wanna.." you mumble before lowering your hand and pawning at him crotch, hoping that'd get the message across. he chuckles and moves his hands to your hips, "next time just say so princess." he leans in, pressing his lips to your neck. you whine softly, momentarily forgetting your reason.

"w-wait..." he pulls away, waiting for you to continue. "hm?" still unsure how to ask, you get up from his lap and kneel between his legs. his eyes widen slightly, finally getting what you meant. "are you sure angel? you know you don't have to." you nod, looking up at him with your hands in your lap. "mhm, want you to teach me."

those words alone were enough to make him half hard, his bulge somewhat visible.

he nods, "okay, alright then." he says quickly before lifting his hips and pulling his pants down to his ankles. he opens his palm to you, gesturing for your hand. he takes yours and puts it over the bulge beneath his boxers.

he groans quietly when he squeezes his larger hand over yours around his cock. "feel what you do to me baby?" he starts rubbing your hand against him, small groans leaving his lips. "take them off princess." he says, bringing your hand to the waist band of his boxers. you hesitate for a moment, but tug them down to his ankles. his cock springs out, slapping against his abdomen.

your eyes still widen at the size after seeing it before. 7.8 inches, big, sensitive tip and a vein running on the under side. your hands still, unsure where to go from here till he grabs your hand, wrapping it around his length. it barely fits around him and he chuckles at your reaction. "think you can take it?" he asks and you nod, determined to take all of him.

you straighten up on your knees, you tongue peeking out to lick your lips. "stroke it first babygirl, like this, yeah?" he says moving your hand up and down his cock. you follow his movements, slowly taking the lead when he lets go. chris lays his head back, a sigh filling the silence. he brings his hand back down, raising yours to stroke the tip.

"just like that princess." you continue the way he showed, feeling him grow harder. his groans get louder and you feel him twitch in your hand. you rub your thighs together, the sight of him this way creating an ache between your legs. "a-alright, you ready angel?" you nod, pulling your hand away and lean closer to him.

he softly grabs your chin, opening your mouth and rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip. "if it's too much tap my thigh twice, yeah?" you nod, "uh-huh."

he slips his thumb inside your mouth, pushing down on your tongue. his other hand grabs his cock, bringing the tip to your mouth. he waits a moment, asking for approval once more. when you nod, you feel his tip on your tongue. "suck."

your lips wrap around him and he sucks in air, "watch your teeth baby." you adjust, sucking softly. "there you go, keep going." once you get the hang of it, you try to take more than the tip and gag around him. he moans, his hand coming to the side of your head, "slow baby, slow." you listen, taking more gently.

but sweet channie is too big for you to take all of him :(. so he lets you keep going till you gag again, stopping you there. "stay there princess." he holds your head there and you feel your eyes water when you gag around him again. your hands grip onto his thighs and you swallow around him. chris throws his head back and he lets out a guttural moan.

you swallow around him again, trying to used to the feeling of him deep in your throat. he lifts your head, letting you breath. when you look up at him heavy breathing and watery eyes, his cock twitches again. "you alright angel?" you take a deep breath in before nodding, "m-more." you waste no time taking him in your mouth again.

"ffuck, baby-" you seem to somewhat get the hang of it and his hands grip onto the couch. his reaction reassures you that you're doing good, so you keep going. trying to take him deeper and swallowing around him again. you feel him twitch in your mouth and he brings one hand to your head.

"i-i'm close baby-" he says, attempting to pull you off but you shake your head, letting out a "mm-mh." you take him farther and he moans loudly, "you sure?" you nod, running your tongue over the tip. he throws his head back again, his fingers softly gripping your hair. he groans and you feel him twitch again.

"b-baby-" he stutters out before you feel his cum fill your mouth. the salty, warm and sweet taste going down your throat when you swallow. you pull him out of your mouth after sucking on the tip, wanting to get every drop of him. you look up at him after swallowing the rest and open your mouth to show him. "good job princess..." you smile at his praise and he brings his thumb to your lips, wiping the small amount of his cum that escaped your lips.

your tongue lolls out and you pull his thumb into your mouth, sucking it off. a grin grows on chris' face as he looks down at you, "you're really good at that y'know? didn't even need much of my help." your smile grows and your eyes trail back to his cock. "my turn now, yeah?" he says noticing the way your thighs are pushed together.

you shake your head, "want more." you say reaching for his cock then looking back up at him. you feel him getting hard again. "please?" you stare up at him, and he nods, bringing his length back to your mouth. you waste no time taking his tip between your lips and stroking the rest. "fuck." and his eyes close.

you spent a good while draining his balls, fueling your new obsession

© citysweet 1:23pm 091223

一 i am taking reqs through asks or comments :)

#一 citysweet's works #bang chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan #chan smut #chris bang smut #chris smut #chan #bang chan blurbs #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #dom bang chan #一 nyx's pink era

[straykeedz]

9𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐦 ; 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 @astraysimp, "9 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠"!

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

🏷️: @mellhwang ; @autumn583 ; @hyunsvngs ; @hotchnrz ; @galamxy ; @ebbaskz ; @turtledove824 ; @galaxycatdrawz ; @fawnpeaks ; @bigsobs4skz ; @143lix ; @bangchans-babygirl ; @aaasia111 ; @reid-deiri ; @tenshimara ; @dancerachaslut ; @peachygirlsthings ; @saturnandgold ; @justscrollinthrough ; @jesuisstay ; @shinywolfbears ; @lewoh-ot8-wh0re ; @alnex05 ; @mixtape-racha ; @shujohajohaminnie ; @heartheartisa ; @skzstaykatsy ; @manuosorioh ; @whosanaanyway ; @cvntywonyo ; @lilinaskzz ;♡

𝐭𝐰:𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲 ; 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐯 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭!!!) ; 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 ; 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 ; 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞 ;

𝐰𝐜: 3,3 𝐤

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

As soon as he opens the door you’re jumping on him, crashing your lips on his. 

It’s always like this between you - you can’t get enough of each other, always so hungry for each other’s body. You put your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, and Chan is quick to wrap his strong arms around your waist as you’re practically making out on his doorstep for the whole neighborhood to see. You kick the door closed, and the both of you are startled by the sound of the door closing with a loud thud, but neither of you pulls away from the other’s lips. 

Chan runs his tongue along your lower lip, and you part your lips to welcome it inside your mouth. Making out with him always leaves you breathless and has you dripping, and tonight is no exception - your panties feel sticky already, and he hasn’t even touched you properly. You suck in a breath when he pins you against the door. His lips move to kiss you on the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck as you pant and sigh, grinding your hips on his desperately, looking for some friction. 

He’s already rock hard, and you hold back a moan when you feel the outline of his dick press on the sweet spot between your thighs. “Chris…” you whine, and he huffs. You can’t see him, but his eyes roll in the back of his head in ecstasy when he hears you calling him by his English name, “bedroom.”

He’s busy sucking on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, but his cock twitches in his pants nonetheless. In that moment, he lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, you want him as much as he wants you, as much as he needs you. “Bedroom,” he confirms, nodding vehemently. 

Chan kicks his bedroom door closed the same way you’d done before, even though there’s no need to, really - he lives alone, therefore you’re sure nobody is going to interrupt you. However, he believes this way it’s more romantic, more intimate, even though it’s not the point of your encounter. You’re both here looking for sexual gratification, for an orgasm or a few of them, nothing more, nothing less. 

At least, you are here for this reason - Chan… he makes love to you every time.

He’s gentle when he drops you onto his mattress, and you can’t help but notice he’s changed his sheets and opted for your favorite - soft, and of a greyish color that matches his room well. Moreover, they feel really good against your skin - they don’t itch all over your body as he pounds into you, fucking your sweaty body into the mattress. It’s silly, but you’re happy he remembered. 

“You remembered,” you chuckle, running your fingers all over the soft fabric. 

Chan takes off his black hoodie, and he’s left in just a plain, white tank top. You can clearly make out the darker, circular shape of his nipples, and you want nothing more than to wrap your lips around them, one at a time. You can’t help but notice that he’s gotten a bit buffer too - his biceps are more defined, and you believe that tank top is secretly hiding his six pack. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I threw the other ones away. Literally, they’re in the trash now.”

“What? Why? You didn’t have to throw away your sheets just because I don’t like them, Chris,” you say, and a shiver runs down his spine. 

With one swift motion, his sweats are on the ground as well, pooling at his ankles. He’s wearing just his boxers now. Black, as per usual. “Didn’t like them either,” he shrugs, climbing back on the bed, body hovering over yours. “Besides,” he leans in to whisper the following words in your ear, “they were ruined anyways after what you did that day.”

That being squirting three times in a row, falling apart under Chan’s fingers and cock and his amused gaze. By the end of the night, said sheets were completely drenched in your multiple releases, and apparently never got back to normal. 

“It was your fault,” you whimper when you feel Chan kissing a precise spot behind your ear, swirling his tongue around your earlobe immediately after. You arch your back and spread your legs instinctively, ready to welcome his body between your legs. 

“It was the hottest thing ever,” Chan comments. His hand travels all the way from your knee to your thigh, until his fingers ghost over your clothed pussy. “Let’s see if I can make this pussy squirt again, hm?” He growls, nibbling your ear. 

You take off your hoodie while Chan slides your leggings down your legs, revealing your beautiful thighs - his weak spot. He loves your thighs - loves to grip them when you’re on top of him, riding him. Loves to cum on them while jerking his cock while he watches you pleasuring yourself, two fingers shoved deep inside your pussy and two fingers rubbing your clit. He loves to suck, lick and bite them right before giving you oral, before devouring your pussy as if it were his last meal. 

“You remembered, too,” he smirks as soon as he realizes you’re wearing his favorite lingerie set of yours - black lace, with a small ribbon right on your pussy and another one between your breasts. 

“’s my favorite set, too,” you whisper, biting your lip as you look him in the eye. 

He raises one eyebrow at you, then tongues his cheek. You catch him palming his cock over his boxers. When he grips it, you nearly choke on air - it looks so deliciously thick and hard. “Oh, really?”

“Mh-hm,” you nod. 

“And why is that so?” He asks, intrigued. 

You prop yourself on your elbows and spread your legs wider, giving him a better view of your barely covered pussy. You let your own hand travel down your body until your fingers reach the hem of said panties and start to toy with it. “Because you always fuck me so hard whenever I’m wearing it,” you reply, biting your lip as you look at him through your eyelashes. 

Chan growls. A hoarse, almost animalistic growl as he feels his cock twitch inside his boxers. He wants nothing more than to whip it out, pull your panties to the side and take you right there, right now. But he’s also aware that his cock is not a cock that can be taken easily without being sufficiently prepped. “You’re right I do,” he grunts, gripping your thighs and squeezing them hard, “I always do.”

“That’s what I said,” you giggle.

“Sassy, are we?” Chan licks his lips, “take off your bra for me, baby girl. Let me see those pretty tits.”

Chan is always amazed by how little time it takes you to take off your bra - faster than lightning, really, he could never. His eyes take in the sight of your naked chest, perky nipples sitting there looking absolutely juicy - he wants nothing more than to wrap his lips around one of them and tease the other with his fingers, the way you like. 

“You’ve got the prettiest tits,” he compliments you, licking his lips once again. “Seeing you like this, spread on my bed, makes me wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Fuck me, then.”

“Not yet,” he says, “have to prep you first. Need you nice and wet f’my cock.”

“I am,” you promise with a desperate whine. “I am nice and wet for your cock. Here, see.”

You hook two fingers in your panties and pull the fabric to the side, revealing your bare cunt to his hungry eyes. It’s true, you are wet - Chan can clearly see a wet patch on the sheets, in the proximity of your pussy. The fact that you’re so horny for him that you’re literally leaking onto his bedsheets makes him go fucking feral. He palms his cock at the sight of your pussy, but his eyes fucking widen when he sees you spread your pussy lips with your fingers to actually show him how wet you are. 

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re driving me crazy,” Chan grunts. With a swift motion, he whips his cock out, then gets rid of his boxers. His cock looks massive, and it is, standing there between his legs, fully erect. “You sure you’re gonna be alright without foreplay, baby girl?” He asks you. 

You nod, and he comes closer, his body hovering over yours once again. Meanwhile, you manage to take off your panties, kicking them off for good and letting them hit the floor. “Just put it in, I want to feel you,” you whisper on his lips. 

Chan knows it’s not something he should do, but he still feels bad about not prepping you, so he spits on his fingers and smears his saliva all over the tip and length of his dick to make sure it’s slippery enough when he enters you. He pumps his hard cock a couple of times, letting out a couple of whimpers, before he aligns his tip to your entrance. 

“‘M pushing in now, okay?” He asks, looking you in the eye as he speaks - his lips are just a few inches away from yours. 

It all feels so intimate, the way your lips part and you both gasp when he finally pushes his cockhead inside of you, breaching your hole as he fills you up slowly, delicately. He’s always delicate at first, never rough - that’s something he likes to save for later. Maybe that’s not the way he should be acting - that’s not how a fuck buddy should be behaving, making sure he’s sinking in your heat with all the care in the world as he stares into your eyes until he bottoms out inside of you. That’s when his lips find their place on your neck, just like tour arms find their way around his back. 

It doesn’t feel like two friends with benefits who are fucking, at least not to Chan. He’s making love with you, that much is clear to him. He’s always made love to you, since the first time you started this… whatever you want to call it. A situationship? A lost cause? A delusion?

He shakes his head, as if the gesture would shake the thoughts out of his head automatically. Now it’s not the time to think about this - or to overthink. Now, all he wants is to get lost in the delicious feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him, of how your wetness is coating his length, of how your warmth makes him feel safe. 

“Can I move?” His voice comes out as muffled, since he’s still kissing your neck as he speaks, rubbing soft circles on your hip with his thumb, something he always does. 

You nod, turning your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. “Yeah,” you breathe, “yeah, move, please.”

You do feel the slightest sting when he pulls almost all the way out, you have to admit it, but it’s nothing unbearable or too excruciating. By the time he bottoms out once more, the discomfort is not there anymore. You let out a deep moan when he fills you up with his thick length once more until you feel his balls pressed against your asscheeks. 

“So tight, baby girl,” he praises you, repeating the movement, pulling almost aaaall the way out, and then thrusting back inside in one go, albeit gently. “Drive me crazy.”

His cock feels thick and heavy moving inside of you, and you feel so full. It’s hot and leaking pre-cum, although you can’t really feel it. He can, though, and almost feels bad for how much he’s leaking already. It’s not gonna take too long before he fills you up with a much warmer and thicker substance, his cum. He loves filling your pussy up with his creamy release, shooting it deep inside of you before pulling out slowly just to watch it drip down from your hole mere seconds later. Sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly horny and he’s given you a particularly generous load, he’d even ask you to push it out for him to see. 

“You feel so good inside of me,” you pant, “hittin’ all the right places. Fuck, how do you do it?” You manage to say though laboured breath. 

He chuckles, snapping his hips faster to meet your pelvis, “That’s because I know your body like no-one else, baby girl. Is that right?” Faster, faster, faster - his movements gets more and more desperate with each thrust. “I know how to give it to you, don’t I? I just know what to do to make this pussy cum,” he pants, “I made it cream around my cock so many times. Fuck, I even made it squirt.”

it’s true, he has. Countless of times. 

If he wanted to, he could make you cum right now. He’d just have to change a bit the angle of his hips, move them a little bit higher so that every time he pulls out his cockhead would brush your g-spot. At the same time, he’d rub your clit fast. 

“Yeah, made me squirt so hard,” you whine, throwing your head back in the pillow as you feel hotter and hotter, body getting all sweaty as your toes begin to curl. “Made a mess on your sheets, made you throw them away. Came so hard for you,” you pant, nails digging in the pale, soft skin of his back. 

“Want me to make you cum hard once again?” Chan grunts, and that’s when he actually gets in position. He smirks when he sees your eyes roll in the back of your head when he brushes that spot. 

“Pleas, make me cum,” you whine, desperately trying to meet his hips, seeking more stimulation, “make me squirt, Chris, wanna squirt on your cock.”

It’s with his thumb on your clit and his mushroom tip pressing on your g-spot that you finally reach your orgasm. You don’t squirt this time, however, it’s so intense that you think you might pass out. You cum with a loud cry, burying your head in the pillow as you release around his length, squeezing his cock tighter than ever. 

“Are you alright, baby girl?” 

You nod, albeit slowly, already feeling spent from your orgasm. “Yeah,” you mumble, “wanna make you cum hard too, though.”

Chan’s jaw drops as he resumes his movements inside your heat, now even hotter and more slippery. He slides in and out easily, and grunts at the sleek sounds that fill his ears every time he pushes inside of you. “Trust me, baby girl, you are gonna make me cum hard,” he sighs. 

If there’s a thing that Chan absolutely loves during sex, that thing is eye-contact. 

So when your eyes stare into his, and he takes in your fucked out expression, he suddenly starts to feel closer and closer to his orgasm, ready to shoot his load inside of you, ready to fill you up. 

He fucks you hard, headboard smacking against the wall with loud thuds - you’re probably going to be sore tomorrow morning, but at least you’ll know it was worth every second of it. 

“‘M close, baby girl, ‘m so close,” Chan grunts, groping your thigh with one hand as he continues to pound inside of you. “Say it, please,” this time, he whines. 

“What word?” You tease him. You know exactly what he’s talking about. 

“Y’know what word, baby girl,” he pants, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, “Don’t be a brat, please, please say it.”

“Mhhh, just like that, daddy,” you moan the word in his ear, and he chokes on air, “fill me up, daddy, give me your cum. ‘Ve been a good girl for you, daddy, give it to me.”

Chan empties himself inside of you, grunting loudly and stopping moving inside of you abruptly. Thick, hot spurts of his cum fill you to the brim until there’s so much of it it starts to leak out of your hole. Tonight, he gave you a very generous load. 

You’re both breathless and have no strength left in your bodies. He pulls out, biting his lip to the sight of his cum dripping from your pussy - it’s almost enough to make his cock hard again. Right now, though, he’s too tired, so he simply falls on the mattress and pulls you closer so that your head is resting on his chest. 

“‘M sorry,” you mumble, eyes already closing from how tired and spent you actually are. 

“What are you sorry for?” Chan asks, fingers caressing your bare shoulder. 

“You wanted me to squirt,” you yawn, then hug him closer. Chan’s heart skips a beat. 

“Ah, baby girl,” Chan chuckles, “we can always have round two in a couple of hours.”

- 

If someone asked Chan how he ended up in this situation, he wouldn’t know what to say. 

It’s the same question he asks himself every night as he slides under the soft covers of his bed - so empty, so cold since you left. His bedsheets smell like you; they smell like the delicate scent of your shampoo; his pillows are impregnated with it. His sheets smell like your skin, like your body lotion, the one he loves to smell directly on your body when he buries his nose in your thighs or your stomach, or the valley of your breasts, or literally anyplace else. 

Chan's bedsheets smell like your secret, the one you’ve both been keeping for a while now, for months. 

As he lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Chan often gets lost his own thoughts as he tries to unravel the mystery of how you ended up becoming fuck buddies. He doesn’t even know when it all started, nor how. What he knows is - one minute he was your friend and also desperately in love with you, and the next he was pinning you against the wall, his lips all over your skin as he hiked your dress up your legs, higher and higher. He took you right there, in the club bathroom. You had your legs wrapped around his waist as you were sitting on the sink; his body between your thighs, cock buried deep inside of you as he thrusted inside of you, muffling the sounds that were threatening to escape his throat in the skin of your neck. 

That was the first time. Many more followed. Many more, and before either of you could realize what you were getting yourselves into - you were already agreeing on sleeping with each other on a regular basis, whenever you felt the need to release some tension. 

He doesn’t regret a single thing, no. The only problem is just - he wants more. He’s always wanted more from you, even though he never found the courage in himself to say the words out loud. It’s not a mere physical thing with you, he’s sure of that. 

When you call him out of the blue on a Sunday morning and tell him that “we need to talk”, his first thought is that you know. You know about his feelings for you. Fuck, he should’ve been less obvious - and now you’re calling him, asking him to meet up, saying that you need to talk. You know. You know he’s caught feelings for you - well, technically, the feelings were already there before the thing between you even started. You know and you want to end it, tell him it’s over. 

He’s prepared for the worst when you finally meet. Your serious face just confirms his suspicions. You’re ending this. You’re ending this and he hasn’t even had the chance to confess to you. He should do it now, he’s going to do it now. 

It’s over, is what he’s expecting to hear from you. So yeah, he should just say the cliche I love you, right?

You both speak at the same time. However, the words that fall from your lips, are entirely different than the ones he was expecting to hear. 

“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”

“I love you.”

-> 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭! “𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧” 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝

#bang chan smut #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #chris bang smut #bang chan #bangchan smut #stray kids smut #skz #stray kids #skz smut #skz masterlist #stray kids masterlist #bang chan x reader smut #bang chan fic #stray kids fic #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fanfic #stray kids hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #9mitm #bang chan x reader

[skz317cb97]

Okay I read something like this for another fandom and it was actually soo good.

I was wondering if you'd write something with Bang Chan/Chris in mind if you're taking any fic requests :)

In a world where upon their first touch, soulmates (Bang Chan/Chris x female reader) are overcome with a sudden and overwhelming need to fuck each other

Please and thanks if you can

Office Space

Bang Chan × Female reader

Word count: 1.8K

Synopsis: You live in a world where one touch of your soulmate will ignite a pathological urge to consummate your bond. What happens when you bump into the cute guy from the office and it appears as though you've found your match?

A/N: 18+ ONLY! I hope this is to your liking! I had fun writing it! Such a great idea! Than you so much for sending it in! If you all like this one give it a reblog, like, comment, hit up my ask box, whatever! As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, semi public sex in a locked office no one knows), unprotected sex (please use condoms), cream pie. I think that's it not anything too crazy but if I missed something please let me know and I'll add it asap!

The same thing happened to everyone. Once you turned twenty-one, if you came into physical contact with your soulmate your body had an overwhelming primal desire to claim each other physically. Fuck. It was a big talking point when you start going through sex ed in junior high. You heard the same thing you always did with anything else that had to do with sexual education. ‘It’s perfectly normal’ or ‘It happens to everyone’.  

No matter how true that was, it didn’t make the topic any less uncomfortable to talk about for some people, you being one of those people. You avoided anything that had to do with soulmates but when you turned twenty-one you went to a psychic with some friends and the lady who read your fortune said that your soulmate’s name would be Chris and his last name had something to do with a gun or fireworks, an explosion maybe, she wasn’t sure and you weren’t buying any of it.  

By the time you were twenty-five a few of your friends had already found their soulmates. You didn’t have time for that nonsense. Your career was your soulmate. You were the lead of your department’s team and it was no easy feat getting to that position.  There were eight other teams all the leads for those departments were men.

Most but not all of them you had met in passing regularly. There was one that you had never even been introduced to but you heard people calling him Chan. You couldn’t lie to yourself, he was gorgeous. Strong nose, kind eyes, pouty lips, shoulders for days, and well, he definitely had a good tailor because his ass... You had to stop thinking like that, you didn’t know the man. You didn’t know his last name, you had never even heard his voice.  

Well, that was about to change really soon. Today when you got to work the head of your branch was pulling all team leads in for a meeting so you and the eight other men, including Chan, had to meet in meeting room three immediately after lunch. Around one thirty all nine of you promptly met your boss.

There were eight other people there and you were trying not to be distracted by one person in general. It was difficult, you didn’t know why. You were able to keep up with the meeting but about halfway into your boss's third bullet point you were getting warm and took off your sweater. The dress you wore was sleeveless, you were hoping you could cool off. You were trying not to look at him but your eyes found him anyway as you shrugged your cardigan off. When you did you found his eyes already on you, something in them.  

“Chan?” Your boss had called him twice now and he snapped out of it and realized you noticed him staring, he quickly looked away. You could see his ears turning red. 

“Yes sir?” Your boss asked Chan to present what his team had been working on this quarter, asked a few questions about Chan’s team, and where he’d like to see things go in the next quarter. Chan had an answer for everything and it came out as smooth as butter with his thick Australian accent, which you had not been expecting.

When Chan was done the boss called on you to do the same thing. You stood and started walking forward as Chan was headed back to his seat. The walkway was narrow, you went to step around each other but stepped in the same direction, you both kind of nervously laughed and then stepped in the same direction again. 

“Sorry,” His slender fingers gently gripped your shoulder and he stepped behind you. His cologne was intoxicating and it was like one touch set your whole body on fire. When he passed you and headed to his seat you looked behind you for a second but he was already pulling out his chair. You tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of your stomach and focused on your presentation.

One by one all of the guys had to go up and do the same thing. It drug on forever if felt like. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable, you didn’t think you could press your thighs together any harder. Chan just seemed to be intently listening to whichever one of the guys was presenting, seemingly unbothered. Finally your boss dismissed you all you were thanking the stars you could finally get out of there and away from Chan before you made a fool of yourself. Just before you could make your haste, exit Chan called your name. 

“Oh excuse me, y/n? Would you mind coming to my office and running over a couple things about your team that I think I’d like to implement with mine?” You almost choked. 

“Y-your office?” He nodded; he was acting perfectly normal. You’d thought, well... you’d thought maybe he was your soulmate with the way you were feeling but apparently, you're just a horny perv that thinks about fucking their co-workers. 

“If you’re busy...” You didn’t want to seem impolite or like you weren’t a team player, he was really giving you a huge compliment by asking for such a thing. You just needed to get a hold of yourself. 

“No! Uhehm, no I’m not busy... I’d be happy to go over whatever you’d like.” That sounded like more than it should have you felt like but he still seemed totally nonchalant. He bowed and then led the way, you following the trail of whatever cologne he was wearing. Chan opened the door and let you in first.

You walked into his office nervous, hoping you could keep control of yourself because you had never felt so out of control in your life. As soon as you were in his office Chan came in too, then shut and locked the door. You turned to him and he walked up on you quickly. Your heart started racing, his hands gently cradled your face, his now a breath away from yours. 

“God please tell me you feel this too.” You were so relieved, you pulled him into a kiss as your answer. You had to taste his lips, they looked so juicy, a little red from worrying at them. You pulled away for a breath and backed towards his desk pulling him by his tie gently. He had a wicked smile on his face and followed. You sat on the desk legs spread, skirt riding up a bit and Chan nestled himself between your thighs, gripping your hips before kissing you again. You wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders and scooched forward. 

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you since I started here.” He admitted suddenly, lips hovering over yours. You couldn’t help how big your smile got. 

“Really?” He nodded biting at his lips and then kissing you again, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting you until oxygen was needed. 

“I’ve always noticed you too, it’s always kind of scared me.” You panted out. One of Chan’s hands was on your waist the other tracing your jaw.  

“You don’t have to be scared baby girl.” You felt warm all over hearing him say that. 

“I know.” You lifted your skirt more then hooked your fingers into the side of your panties and pulled them over, exposing your dripping sex to him. He looked down and his mouth watered but then he forced himself to look back up at you. 

“Are you sure?” You nodded and pulled at him desperately. 

“Mhmm.” You needed him. Chan started to unbuckle his pants, pulling them down and just as he was about to pull down his briefs, exposing the large outline in them, he realized something. 

“Oh... uh... I don’t have a condom.” You looked at him sweetly, a little shy, you always were when it came to this stuff. 

“Well... it’s just... together forever, right? I mean, that’s what this means... doesn’t it?” Chan cupped your face and nodded his eyes sparkling. 

“Together forever.” He kissed you softly. 

“I’m on the pill, so... it’s okay.” He shook his head, then dropped his underwear and you got a full view of what had been straining against the stretchy fabric of his briefs. You gnawed at your lips and he didn’t waste time. Chan wrapped your legs around him and lined up with your wet hole. When he sank into you it finally made sense.  

“Yes... fuck... f-feels so good baby girl. Please wanna hear you say my name, tell me how you want it beautiful.” 

“Chan yes fuck... harder, fuck me harder...” Chan fucked you harder, panting and moaning just as much as you. You loved how he wasn’t scared to make a little bit of noise for you. Not enough for anyone outside the office to hear but enough to make you drip for him. Chan shook his head no. 

“C-call me Chris...” 

“What?” You stopped him and looked into his eyes, your soulmate’s eyes. 

“C-Chris, my real first name is Chris...” I’ll be goddamned, you thought to yourself. 

“What’s your last name?” He smirked at you with a funny look on his face, laughing a little. 

“Seems like an unusual time to ask. Wanna know what yours is gonna be in the future?” You flushed and smiled. 

“It’s Bang.” He kissed you. The fucking psychic was right. 

“Why does everyone call you Chan?” He pushed a stray hair away and you couldn’t help but lean into his warmth. 

“It’s my middle name and there is a lot of Chris’ on our team. So I go by Chan in the office, but everywhere else, I’m Chris and I’d very much prefer to be Chris when I’m inside you. He rolled his hips and your eyes rolled back.  

“Mmmm Chris...” He started fucking you harder egged on by you using his actual first name. 

“huhuhu Chrisss...” Harder harder harder he kept pounding into you. He loved it he wanted more. 

“C-C-Chr-risss... g-gonna... gonna cum.” A light sweat was starting to break out on Chan’s forehead as he pushed you harder towards your climax. Your arms wrapped around him hand fulls of his beautiful curls. 

“God fuck I’m gonna cum too... fuck! Cum with me baby girl... cum with me.” He snapped his hips into yours again, brushing your g spot and you went nose diving into your orgasm clutching onto his muscular frame tightly, gasping for air. As soon as your cunt started clenching around Chan he started coming too, pushing deep inside as he filled you.

You both held each other, your legs wrapped around him, foreheads pressed together, trying to catch your breath. Once both your heartbeats returned to normal Chan helped you off his desk and pulled your skirt down for you. You adjusted his tie and he leaned in kissing you again. 

“Uh do you maybe wanna grab some dinner tonight?” You smiled and tried to help tame his curls a bit after mussing them when you came. 

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @jisuperboard @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy @svintsandghosts @the-sweetest-rose @alice05280 @3rachasninja @m0ri-apeuda @eastleighsblog @linoification @mlink64 @smally97 @fun-fanfics

“I’d love to Chris.” 

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#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chris bang smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤 #cal's requests🖤 #minnysproutgriffinteddy

[dwaekkilinos]

savior complex (pt. 1) | bang chan

summary: Your father had wielded you to become a machine; a weapon. And a machine you would become. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat. He taught you how to protect; specifically how to protect your family. But he never taught you how to survive with other groups, especially when their leader seems to have it out for you.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ Minors DNI | strangers/enemies to lovers + zombie apocalypse au, angst, fluff, smut word count: 19.9K chapter summary: you'd always known the end, and it had always known you. you just didn't know the beginning would be waiting for you when your time finally came. warnings/notes: zombie apocalypse au so . . . blood, guts, gore, sad, sad, sad. beware. lots of inspo from every zombie thing i've literally ever seen (twd, tlou, train to busan, etc.), typos probably, parental death, actions of violence and murder, religious TRAUMA, religious undertones, reader does not believe in god but she's deeply influence by it bc of her childhood and it haunts her, reader comes from a small toen and it's not explicitly stated where she's from but hollows are mentioned, hunting, reader wishes for death multiple times, chan goes by chris, no smut in this chapter but there will be in every chapter after, i think that's it but let me know if i missed anything, and enjoy! <3

chapter one: i know the end (and it knows me) ( series masterlist | next → )

Sometimes you felt like a ghost. It happened when the world was so silent that you could almost hear the beat of your unsteady heart pounding in your chest; when everyone else was asleep and you stayed up, eyes watchful and searching for threats. That was when you felt like the lost faces that haunted you.

It hadn't always been this way, at least not until the world ended. Most of the time you tried not to think about it. You tried not to think about much except survival these days.

Because that was smart. Surviving was smart. Anything else was stupid; anything else would get you killed.

Ironic, how you used to fear that very thing. Death. Now it was all you knew.

The apocalypse had come.

You knew how it sounded. Honestly, you didn't believe it when it first happened. You had been too afraid to admit it; too scared that if you did, you could never go back. There was no going back anyway. That was something you wished you had known back then. And as you sat on a log in the middle of those dark woods, overlooking your group who all slept silently while you stayed up, bloody knife in hand, and eyes watching for threats, it was hard to ignore the fact that this was your cruel reality.

Because the reality of it all was: you were living on borrowed time, trying your best to do right by your father and keep your family alive. You'd faltered that night, dotting the line between protection and predation.

And now . . . now you couldn't help but think about the beginning. How you would've never ended up like this if things had been different. But things hadn't been different. Things had happened exactly the way they had, and it'd left you with rot in your bloodstream and hate in your heart.

That was what made you clutch the knife closer, nearly cutting your own flesh. Because things hadn’t been different, but they also hadn’t always been this way. You hadn’t always been like . . . this.

You supposed it was because it was easy to kneel when you were just a girl. It was easy to ignore the ever-present scabs on your knees when you didn’t know any better. It was easy to tear yourself down the middle, pulling stitches from the back of your legs when you knew it’d all be re-sewn by morning. It was easy back then when the world hadn’t died.

From the moment you were brought into the world, barely kicking and silently screaming like it was a sin to voice your pain, you had been taught to be that girl; that easy, complacent girl with not so much as a rotten thought. From the moment you were born, you had been taught the foundation of the Church and its vocation, and it had carved its way into your rotten flesh even when the world was no more.

At age four, you were in the pews, listening to the words of God while creating imaginary friends in the statues. At age seven, communion. Then at age eight, you had begun to become an altar girl, fetching and carrying, ringing the altar bell, bringing up the gifts and the book, among other things—essentially being a servant to God. At age fourteen, confirmation. At fifteen, your mother doused you in holy water before your first date with a boy from school. Sixteen, heartbreak, praying to God and begging for him to help ease it all, only to be left with no response . . . even after all you had done for him.

Seventeen and the stitches down your legs remained undone, the scriptures now more of a question than a statement. Then . . . eighteen, the timer clicked into place, and you felt yourself begin to rot along with the world, forcing you to realize your entire life was just a cycle of kneeling before God, praying, and asking for forgiveness for your sins.

It had been easy to kneel when you were just a girl; when you didn’t know any better. And then it happened.

It.

Armageddon.

The Rapture.

The fucking apocalypse.

It didn’t matter what you called it. Doomsday was still doomsday even dressed up with fancy scriptures and sacred wine.

The apocalypse had come. Humans were deemed horrible creatures by some almighty who you didn't give a fuck to acknowledge. It didn't matter. Someone or something had deemed the human race unworthy.

The apocalypse had come, and you were deemed worthless. You were made to die. It was inevitable.

The apocalypse had come. There was talk that it had begun in the North. But much wasn’t known in your town. Now you realized they tried to keep it a secret. It was a way of controlling everyone, you supposed, but not like it mattered much now.

That was just how things were. Your mother refused to let you and your younger sister watch the news, refused to let you search anything about what was going on in the world, adamant that everything was lies and those lies would cloud your mind. A religious town bordering on a commune that resembled a cult perhaps just a tad too much. You realized all this now, of course, but back then your knees were still covered in scabs from kneeling before a God who would never come. Back then your mother kept you kneeling until the final bell tolled, her hand firmly clutching your shoulder to keep you in place.

You were only eighteen then. And while the outside world was torn apart month by month, its people haunted by death piled upon death, your town continued on as it always had. The whispers of a war that would end the world were just whispers, covered up by scriptures that the local preacher would sight every Sunday morning just after you’d collected the eggs from the chicken coop and put on your best dress like your mother had always taught you.

But it was different for you, even back then. Because while it had been easy to kneel when you were a girl, you had begun to grow. Eighteen then, but you had begun to see the flaws within the Church when you were sixteen. And by eighteen, you knew better.

By eighteen, you could see the sweat beading along the preacher’s forehead. By eighteen, you could hear wavering in your mother’s voice when she proclaimed that this was just a test. That this was meant to happen. That the Bible had always predicted this, and if you remained faithful, then you would be saved . . . spared.

But by eighteen, you knew better.

It took one quiet night and a hammering heart for you to sneak into your father’s study and head straight for this desktop. It took even less time to discover what had become of the world. One. Two. Three clicks and then . . .

You remembered the choking feeling bubbling up your chest as your eyes scanned the news articles. A virus. One so horrible and unforgiving that it could take a healthy vessel, and within twenty-four hours, the body would succumb to death. But, you’d seen stuff like this before, right? You knew there had been plenty of diseases and viruses and they all had cures. They all had to have cures. They had to.

That was just the thing: no matter how hard you looked, you couldn’t find any article that explained how this virus came about. It was unknown, deadly, spreading rapidly, and there was no way of telling when it’d reach your town. It was just . . . just . . . (It was the first time you truly felt helpless.)

You remembered staying up with the sun, looking for answers, only to come out empty-handed. And when your father discovered you in his study that morning, you nearly confessed right away, sobbing into his arms. But no shame was brought upon you that day.

Your father had been a good man. He had loved you so. He had loved his family, no matter the consequences or conditions.

This town, your town, was small. It consisted of around only three thousand people give or take, all of which were either Christian, secluded, or . . . your father. In all the years you had been alive, not once had your father stepped into the Church. You never asked. You never worried. Your mother just always told you your father was busy every single time, and you believed her because back then, you’d trusted her with all of you.

As you grew, your suspicions of him did, too, but you remained silent as you always had in life. And it was only until that morning when he wrapped you in his arms and let you cry into his shoulder, did you realize why he never entered the Church, why he never spoke the prayers your mother praised, why neighbors would talk of his name only in hushed conversations.

He didn’t believe.

No, he believed in something just not . . . this sacred word your town so desperately worshipped. And that morning, he told you the truth. From his childhood to how he ended up in a town like this. He told you it all, and then he told you the truth. He told you how your mother was scared (how she always had been) and how one day he hoped with enough trying, she’d see the world for what it was ( . . . she never did). And then he told you about the virus, and everything was so much clearer.

The town had everyone convinced this was some kind of test. There was no virus to them. This was the reaping. The scriptures were true to them. And so every Sunday, you were forced to acknowledge that Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death—the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse had come to earth with the power to destroy humanity.

That was how it had been explained to your town, and all its people believed. A sickness had struck the world, yes, they told that much truth, but they chalked it all up to being some kind of plot point in God’s plan. To top it off, it was said that if the townspeople all repented and did right by his name, then salvation would be given.

That was what was told, and that was what was believed.

You remembered the preacher’s voice even now.

Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, "Come." I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer.

— Revelation 6:1–2

That scripture haunted you just as your father’s face did, but back then you hadn’t realized the detriment it would have on you. Back then, you played your part. Back then, you dressed as your mother advised, went to church, and listened, and then, when all was said and done and your mother had gone to her room, you snuck off to accompany your father on his hunts. And during those times, you’d learn the truth.

While the two of you hunkered down, waiting for deer to pass through your side of the woods, he told you about what was going on with the rest of the world. He explained how the CDC had claimed this thing; Pestilence (as your town believed) was some kind of virus, yes, only they wouldn't release the survival rate except for a few things that stated it was deadly, spread rapidly, and anyone could have it, but by the time symptoms had started to kick in, it would be too late.

As the weeks went by, as the more hunting extravaganzas you went on with your father piled up, his news became more worrisome. At first, the virus was contained in the North of the world, but as it took more lives and less information about it was being provided to the public . . . people began to panic. Hysteria spread throughout the world. Cases of this unknown virus peaked, and the government released statement after statement informing the public that face masks would be required to prevent the virus from spreading and travel restrictions would soon be put into place.

Only by that time, it was too late.

Carriers of this unknown virus had already traveled far and near, spreading the disease throughout the world. This so-called Pestilence might have only been given reign to a quarter of the world, but his disease had spread farther than his radius.

And while you had been young, you realized that this virus had only one purpose: to kill. There was no survival rate. No hope.

The world shut down soon after more and more people started dropping like flies, succumbing to the miserable disease that left them with boils and blisters covering their skin. Hospitals became overrun. Schools were wiped out with kids coming home with this deadly virus. Workplaces were abandoned, the people wishing to stay at home with their families, too afraid to step outside without any real knowledge of how this virus worked.

Your town remained oblivious, too, as the region shut down, gates being made so no one could enter or leave. It was safer that way they claimed. All of those who could be saved would be saved and helping those seeking a refuge was against the rules. It all felt like some kind of sick plan if you had anything to say about it.

By the time your father had taught you how to shoot your first deer without you sniffling in fear, Vaccines were finally attempted, but nothing worked; the disease only spread, and more people died.

Then . . . it all just stopped.

But your town continued to spread its lies.

The story remained the same even all these years later. You remembered how while you had learned the virus was supposedly coming to an end, your town still painted the picture of the Horsemen. Tales of Pestilence’s reign still remained.

They went on and on about how he rose from the depths of Hell. Pestilence had come. He, who sat on his white steed, had a bow, a crown that had been gifted to him by his gods had come, and when he had, he went out conquering. And so he did.

Until he was put to rest; until his conquering had come to an end. You listened with half a heart as the preacher went on and on about how his time had ended, yes, but this was not the end. All you had to do was keep praying, keep repenting, keep . . . kneeling, and you’d be saved.

But you knew better.

While others would attend midnight mass in addition to morning, you claimed you had to pray on your own, and when your mother had left with your sister on her hip, you snuck off with your father to learn of the world. You snuck off to better your shooting arm, to seek comfort in the only person who seemed to have their head screwed on right, to shoot ducks and geese and deer and everything in order to keep your town fed while everyone else prayed to a God that wasn’t doing half your work. And yet, every time, every kill, your father knelt beside the animal and prayed, until you had begun to do the same.

You weren’t sure why he did it. You had never asked. You never thought you needed to. (Now you would’ve done anything to know the answer.)

And so . . . life went on like that. Completely cut off from the world without the help of the internet your father provided for the two of you, life went on.

The virus no longer spread further, and many believed it was all just some hoax. News stations came to life again, but not much else was restored. That was how everyone found out the virus had concluded. Hell, even you remember being twenty-one years old, having your first legal shot with your father in the middle of the woods while the two of you watched news reporter after news reporter claim the virus had mutated and mutated so much to the point our bodies had accumulated a natural resistance to it.

But you couldn't believe it.

Three whole years of this deadly disease taking out population upon population, and then it all ceased. It felt almost too good to be true.

Of course, the town believed this too. Pestilence had conquered, and that was just the problem.

Every day, day in and day out, words spread throughout the hollow, the word in the Church mutated each week, even your mother who had spent the last three years praying to Jesus, Joseph, and Mary; your mother who had gone through rosary after rosary begging for God to have mercy on your family; your mother who had always forced you to attend those days at church on Sunday went around the house, boarding up the windows and hiding the special silverware in the basement, claiming that he would come next.

He has conquered, she had hissed over your shoulder when you and your father came back from one of your hunts.

Pestilence's reign had ended (according to your mother, who you were almost certain had a few screws loose). You didn’t believe it for a second, ignoring your mother's desperate ramblings.

War will come, she warned.

War will come.

But . . . you knew if something did come, it wouldn’t be this War.

And then . . . then he did.

The first sighting of the dead coming back was spotted just months after the virus that had plagued millions had ceased. And this time . . . the town allowed its folk to see the reports. Even your mother had brought the television from the basement to witness the dead rise . . . or rather . . . War. The news stations had captured a recording of these . . . people; people who had suffered from the virus coming back, and then with only their teeth, tearing any live thing apart. The recording was aired all across the world, fear, and hysteria spreading like wildfire.

The government was still up and running at this point with only one mission: to shoot down these seemingly reanimated corpses before they could cause more harm. People believed this to be a fluke, but your mother's words had stuck with you.

War will come.

It was all a little hazy now, but you remembered bits and pieces of the world back then. War had been quick, ruthless, and determined.

This was no man. This was War.

And it all became clear soon after.

While Pestilence had been silent, War had wanted an audience.

The things he could do; the people he could hurt . . . it was all so gutting. Those lost to the virus kept coming back, all with one purpose: destruction. With one bite, their victims would soon fall ill to that same virus, and then once it had taken their body, they’d come back, reanimated with the same gruesome purpose.

The government finally fell when the dead could no longer be stopped. Quarantines dropped, people ran, and everything just . . . stopped. These creatures tore through cities, sinking their teeth into civilians. And you watched it all on the television, until that, too fell, leaving the rest of the world in the dark.

That was when you realized just how real all of this was. That was when you realized the past three years of hunting with your father was not just something the two of you would look back on and laugh about one day when this virus was over. No . . . it seemed . . . it seemed you couldn’t quite see the end or maybe . . . maybe you could and that was the problem all along.

Your father, the man he was, tried to remind you that this was not War; that this was not the supposed God’s plan everyone was convinced of in your godforsaken hollow. And you tried to hear him, but for a while, you wished to be like everyone else in the town. You wished you could believe this was some greater plan. You wished you could believe that this was all because of some Horseman . . . but you knew better, and your father seemed to know this as well.

(And yet, when you thought back on it now, the stages in which the world ended still presented themselves as the Horsemen in your troubled mind.)

Because, well, you supposed that was truly when the world had ended—the day War came.

War will come, your mother had warned, and you knew that to be true the day the electricity stopped working. War had come, and he'd taken civilization with him. And while he reigned over the quarter of the world he'd been gifted, the rest of the world lay in the dark, trying to navigate throughout this new world.

From time to time you had heard talk of distant wars. You, however, had never seen one.

But War's ruthless hand still reached your town.

There was no news or contact with the outside world other than the people you could see with your own eyes. No transportation, no government, no nothing. It was said that cars had even been abandoned on highways as people tried to leave town to find their families. But they never got far; not with this newfound order bestowed upon the earth.

Because truly . . . War did not need to come to earth to corrupt it.

The government had fallen, the world had ended, the apocalypse had begun and that was all it took for chaos to ensue. People became their worst selves at the end of the world, you'd been told all your life through media upon media. But you had to disagree. You thought, perhaps, the end of the world brought out who people truly were deep inside. It allowed people to let go of civility.

And you discovered people really were perhaps even worse than this supposed War himself. Or rather a product of War and his righteous hand.

(Although, how righteous could he truly be?)

While War reigned, the rest of the world scavenged. Your family stood stagnant in your childhood home, holding up there for as long as you could. It was still warm when the second wave hit. You knew you'd need to find a different shelter when the time came.

The cold wasn't your only problem either. People were at their worst. When the news broke out in your town, the scriptures they held so dear began to fall apart. A lot left, some stayed, and others turned on each other, leaving houses with bloodstained splatters and a fear of thy neighbor. Your family stayed, however. Your mother read scriptures every day. Your father recited the truth. And they argued, while you sat by the window, terrified out of your mind as you watched the empty streets.

That was when you realized another truth about yourself. You were just about to turn twenty-two, the world had gone to shit, and you had never been so scared. Pestilence. War. Famine. Death. Their names raged on inside your head and it was as if you were still just a young girl, kneeling in church despite the scabs. Except now, you were a girl who could no longer kneel in church, and yet you were still so scared.

It felt cruel. Perhaps even unreal.

The scriptures had predicted this—the four harbingers coming down to scorn the earth. But you hadn't believed it. You were forced to now.

It was War’s reign back then. But Death would come one day. He had come to kill you all; to finish off everything his brothers hadn't touched, and one day he would.

It had been predicted. The words stuck in your head even now.

When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a pale horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.

— Revelation 6:7–8

Your mother told you long ago of these scriptures. When you were a child, you'd cover your head with your blankets, hiding from the mysteries of the night. Somewhere in your innocent mind, you'd convinced yourself the devil himself would find his way into your room, wrap his bony hand around your ankle, and drag you to the pits of Hell.

Back then you'd feared death. You'd done everything to steer far from its clutches.

She’s afraid of the world, your peers would hiss under their breath, not knowing you'd heard every word. And you knew they were right. You knew you had always been a scared kid, trying your hardest to keep the monsters at bay.

You wished you'd realized there had been no real monsters . . . yet. You would've lived more. Now you knew the consequences.

Now there was no more living, just surviving.

Still, sometimes you found yourself missing it; missing life. It was a bitter thought—what could've been had the world not ended all those years ago.

Back then—before the end—you'd feared death.

How far will this go? you remembered thinking back then when it was still War’s reign. How long until things are normal?

You didn't have the stomach back then to come to terms with the truth. You barely remembered it now.

But you did remember the day everything truly changed for you.

Up until that day, you'd been following your father's orders, huddling up in your home with your mother and little sister as the four of you survived day by day. Then . . . your house had been broken into, the intruder coming in through your window.

Back then you had feared death. You had thought you were going to die.

You'd thought this up until the very last scream ripped through your throat just as your father emerged from the shadows, a look on his face you’d never seen, moments before everything went red. You remembered that to this day. While everything else was blurry, that moment was clear. You could still feel the blood splatter on your face as you watched your father—the man who used to tie your shoes for you before you hopped on the school bus—kill a man before your very eyes, ripping out his jugular with his bare teeth.

Once a girl who could no longer kneel in church, became one painted with the blood from another. And you remembered a small part of you—the part that had once knelt so much her knees had turned to scabs—that this was all War’s fault.

You thought it until you watched the man pale, falling to your childhood bedroom floor with a thud. You remembered how his eyes stayed wide open, locked on you as he gurgled and choked on his blood, bleeding out onto your pink carpet. He didn't blink. Not once. Not even at all. They stayed cold and empty as your father breathed heavily above him.

And then you looked at him.

Your father was a good man. He was kind and just, despite the town. He believed in science and facts. He wanted the truth. But none of that mattered if his family was at stake.

Your father was a good man. He loved you, and he would’ve done anything for you.

Your father was a good man.

Your father had ripped out another man’s jugular in front of you.

Your father was a good man.

Your father had killed someone.

This was the end. You knew it, and it knew you, too.

(It wasn’t talked about, and you never brought it up again. He simply embraced you in a tight hug and kissed your forehead, leaving a smudge of blood from the man in doing so, and whispered apologies that would never sink deeper than your skin.

(Now you wished you would’ve told him you understood. Now you would’ve looked at him and seen an image of yourself staring right back. Now you would’ve hugged him back.))

That was all it took before your father took it upon himself to gather your mother and little sister, put all necessities in the car, and collect enough portable gasoline as he could before the four of you set off down the road. Where you were going was undetermined. There was no knowing . . . because there was nowhere to go.

The world had ended. There was nothing left. You just had to go.

You have to grow up. No more kid stuff, your father said to you that night on the road while your mother and little sister were fast asleep in the back of the car. One day I might not be here to protect you. You have to learn to protect yourself.

And you'd promised him you would. Because you had to. You had been old enough then, after all. You had been twenty-one . . . technically an adult.

(Now, however, you realized you had still been too young. Twenty-one wasn't old enough to face the end of the world.)

But . . . what happens when a scared young girl is forced to grow up too soon? She turns into a machine.

Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.

Your father had borne that burden back then, when you first set off on the road. The car hadn't lasted long. Not that it mattered. The world was a wasteland anyway. Walking from town to town on the vacant streets and highways was nothing new now.

You just have to survive, he kept telling you. Survive long enough to keep them alive.

And you always knew what he meant. He was training you for the day when he would be no more. Because when that day came, you would be the one left in charge. He'd turned you into a machine because that was the world you lived in. You were the oldest. Your sister was barely five years old back then. And your mother . . . your mother who once believed this was all some greater plan, was now convinced that if she prayed hard enough it'd stop Famine from following after his ruthless brother.

It was your job to remember what your father had taught you when Pestilence first came to reign—how to hunt, how to shoot a shotgun, and now . . . how to survive.

And when Famine came; when you caught sight of the words Famine has risen spray painted on a billboard on the side of a highway, reminding you of your sick home. It was then you finally learned how to survive. You didn't realize how hard it would be until a year after Famine's birth, your father had passed because of you (because of a stupid decision that you had made which you still couldn't bring yourself to acknowledge).

Survival became all that you knew after that.

Your father was gone. It was just like he had warned. You were in charge now, and you had one purpose: keep your family alive.

The burden became yours to bear.

This was your purgatory and you'd do well to repent for what you'd done; for the man you'd sent out to die; for the father you'd lost.

Survive, survive, survive. It was all you knew.

And when the final Horseman rose, you knew what you had to do. It didn’t matter if it killed you, you couldn’t let your family die at the hands of one of those . . . creatures.

Death had risen. The entire world was a wasteland filled with undead and wars made by man.

If you crossed paths with one of those creatures and let them lay a finger on your family, your oath to your father would be broken. Death would kill you all.

So you kept going, trying to outrun the inevitable.

Because you had to. For him. For your father. For the ghosts that haunted you.

Your father had wielded you to become a machine. And a machine you would become.

Sleep with one eye open. Find food. Tread on until dark. Repeat.

The routine was ingrained in your brain, going on and on like a mantra. You couldn't escape that. Not that it mattered. Survival mattered. Keeping your group, your sister, your mother, and your family alive mattered. They were all that mattered. You would skip as many meals as your body would let you if it meant they'd stay fed.

Sometimes you found yourself laughing at how naive you had been in the past. At twenty-five now, you were equal parts machine and woman, still oozing blood when wounded despite your protests. You didn't tremble at the sight of blood now. You didn't fear death.

When you were a kid, death was your greatest fear. Now, you envied it. Envied the fact you had to walk the earth; the same earth the dead destroyed. Because you couldn't die. That was the harsh truth: you couldn't die.

You'd feared death for so long and now as you sat awake, keeping watch while your group slept, you yearned for the clutches of death to drag you into nothingness. It was almost laughable.

In a world where people now fought for their lives, trying to outrun the dead, you wished to succumb to death. You knew it was wrong, and you'd never speak it aloud, but you yearned for it. This world was shit. Complete and utter shit, and you wanted to give up. Everything in you wanted to just wait like some brainless sitting duck and let Death or disease or even those wretched beasts you heard groaning in the dead of night have their way with your hollow body.

But you couldn't . . . not when you promised your father you'd protect them. He'd died for you, and it was your duty to keep your family safe. Your duty.

You couldn't die, not when you had to keep them alive.

So you let yourself turn into a machine.

And a ruthless machine you had watched yourself become.

That night had been enough evidence of this. Because that night as you sat on a log, slowly dragging yourself out of the past and into the present, you realized one thing. A bloody knife sat in your hand while you watched over your sleeping group, eyes searching for any sign of the dead, and that was when it dawned on you that you had been right all those years ago—the end of the world brought out who people truly were.

You were a machine. You didn't feel. You couldn't.

Glancing down at the bloody knife in your hand, you realized you hadn't felt anything that night.

That night you'd done something you never thought you would. That night your group was attacked by a man with a gun; a man who wanted to harm; a man who had put his hands on your little sister. She was only eight going on nine, and she was your responsibility, and as soon as his hand clamped down over her shoulder while he held a gun to her head, threatening to pull the trigger unless you gave up all your food, you lost it.

Everything went black. You couldn't see. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't even think. You just felt this pure blinding rage.

When you finally regained your sight, you realized what you'd done—you'd killed the man.

No, killed was too vague.

Like the true machine you had become, you had slaughtered him; the bloody knife in your hand was evidence enough of that.

The man was dead, a chunk of his jugular ripped out while he clutched the many stab wounds piercing his stomach. And you . . . you stood above him, eyes wide, bloody knife in hand, and the bitter taste of blood on your tongue.

You'd never killed anyone before. You'd put people out of their misery, but you'd never taken another life like this. You'd never had to.

But you had that night.

And now you paid the consequences.

It had been hours since then. No one had spoken a word since. And your sister . . . your little sister had only looked at you once since then, and you could see the utter terror her round eyes held. Normally she would sleep by your side, but she'd curled up next to your mother that night.

She was afraid of you, and you couldn't blame her. You had once given your father the same look.

So you sat alone on that damned log, bloody knife in hand as you thought back on how you managed to end up in this Hell. Sometimes you felt like a ghost, and now you knew why.

Your brows pinched together. You couldn't help but think: is this what your father had intended?

How much of a machine had he meant for you to become? Were you supposed to clutch onto the part of yourself that was still human? Or had becoming a monster been part of the deal when you'd signed off your soul for machine parts?

You weren't sure. You weren't really sure of anything anymore.

Your sister had looked at you like you were one of the monsters that plagued your earth, slowly destroying it region by region.

Were you no better than the dead to her?

You swallowed hard.

Had you become a monster?

“You did what you had to do,” you heard a deep voice from behind you, perhaps answering your thoughts.

But you didn't jump as you turned to see Felix sit down on the log beside you, exhaustion weaving through his delicate features. You didn't speak a word, just stared at the side of his face for a second before you glanced back down at the bloody knife in your hand.

You did what you had to do.

You nearly laughed. It was just like him to say such things.

You see: Lee Felix had joined your group around the same time Famine took his reign, and ever since then he'd been following you around like your own personal shadow. That was three years ago now. Your father had saved him, offering him to join your family on the road. Perhaps your father had seen something in him. Or maybe he had just saved him simply because that was just who your father was: a hero.

Not that it mattered. You'd taken a liking to Felix, too. He was kind.

Kind had been rare back then. It still was.

And Felix stayed kind.

When your father passed, Felix stuck by you. Your mother had begun to look at you as if you were a stranger, and your little sister still had been too young to understand much. Felix had made life easier.

You'd taught him everything you knew partly because you needed to and partly because you liked being around him as if he were the younger brother you’d never had. Little bird, you called him . . . because you'd taught him everything. You'd taught him how to survive. And sometimes you thought maybe you would've been friends outside of this. If things were different, if you'd met in a world where the apocalypse hadn't happened . . . then you'd like to think you could have met; that your paths would've crossed.

But things weren't different. You weren't even sure if you could let him in entirely. Your friendship would surely put him in some sort of jeopardy. Because, really, it all came down to survival, and you needed him to live. You didn't care what happened to yourself. You just needed to stay alive long enough to make sure they'd all make it.

That still didn't stop the feeling of relief that washed over you as soon as you felt him lean into you, arm touching yours. He was trying to comfort you in the way that he knew, and you couldn't help but lean against him further.

He was still just as kind as the day you'd crossed paths.

But you?

Well . . .

“I ripped his throat out . . . " you heard yourself roughly mutter before you felt the words tumble from your tongue. You lifted a hand to your blood-stained lips and swallowed. “I ripped . . . throat . . . his . . . with my teeth.” You swallowed once again, harder this time as your eyes drifted to your little sister's sleeping figure. She had been so scared. You had done that. You had scared her. “She looks at me like I’m a monster.”

”You’re not."

“Lix."

“You’re not,” he reiterated, his voice as harsh as he could manage (which was not harsh at all) while he clutched your blood-stained hand and took it into his. “You did what you had to do.”

Your eyes flicked down to your hands. But you didn't look at him. You couldn't. You just kept thinking and thinking and seeing that look on your sister's face. And then . . . then you felt yourself say. ”She says all life is precious. She cries when we have to put down a squirrel for Christ’s sake. I should’ve known. I should’ve—”

”She’s just a kid."

“I didn’t have to kill him,” you continued. “There was a point where I could’ve knocked him out. I thought about it. And I still killed him.” Your eyes finally snapped to his then. “I wanted to kill him, Lix.”

A muscle in Felix’s jaw twitched. ”It’s people like him that make me wonder if this world got it all right,” he admitted after a second. “I’m glad he’s dead. I just wish I could’ve been the one to do it.”

Your breath hitched at his words, not because they'd shocked you . . . but rather because you found yourself agreeing. But that wasn't . . . right. Felix was kind. You were not. He was good, and you . . .

”You don’t mean that,” you mumbled, squeezing his hand. “You’re not . . . “

”Not what?” Felix countered, eyes searching yours. “Hmm? Not what?”

You blinked, your throat constricting. ”Too far gone,” you choked out.

His brows twitched, his expression softening. ”Neither are you."

His hand touched your face a second later, his thumb wiping the dried blood from your chin. You weren't a monster in his eyes. You were just his friend. He didn't fear you, but you knew he should've.

But for a second, you let yourself forget this. Instead, you closed your eyes, allowing him to clean your face of the man's spilled blood. And when he was done, your eyes fluttered open just in time to see him try to reach for the knife in your hand, probably to release it from your tight hold.

However, you shifted it out of his grasp. His eyes snapped to yours then, questioning.

You offered a weak smile—something you didn't do often, but would for him. ”Sleep,” you hummed, patting his shoulder. “We need your brute strength in the morning.”

”We need your brain more,” he countered, tapping a finger to your forehead.

”Sleep, little bird."

He rolled those round brown eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

Nevertheless, Felix listened to you. He shifted down onto the ground, resting his head on the log, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes closed. And you watched him until you were sure he was resting soundly. Then, your eyes went back to watching, making sure to keep your promise to your father.

But just as you were sure it was just you and the silence of the night again, you heard Felix’s voice filter through your ears, ”You’re not too far gone."

You swallowed hard but said nothing.

You're not too far gone.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

As if like some sort of phantom, your knees had begun to itch like they used to after mass all those years ago. For the first few days, you tried to ignore it, writing it off as poison ivy or not bathing for a few weeks, but even when you’d scratch, the itch would remain. You came to realize that this wasn’t something you could write off; this wasn’t something that hadn’t been caused by anything other than . . . you.

A few nights ago, you’d killed a man. You’d ripped out his throat with his teeth, and for a second too long, you’d enjoyed it. Now . . . now you wondered just how deep your guilt ran. Now you wondered if given the chance, would you do it again?

But you already knew the answer.

Your knees had begun to itch once again . . .

And you tried to ignore it. Honest, you did, but his screams; how easy it was to bite into his flesh; the bitter taste of metallic blood on your tongue which oddly tasted too similar to honey; the life in his eyes quickly dissipating as you towered over him like a predator to its prey; all of it kept playing in your head over and over again. You couldn’t escape it, not even when night came and you were forced to close your eyes.

His face was always there.

Sometimes you wondered if any of it had actually happened. Sometimes you wondered if none of this was real or if you even were. Sometimes you wondered if this man had been Death; if the tales your town preached had been real and this was your test.

Sometimes you wondered if you had failed.

And you knew you had.

At night, you could hear your mother whispering prayers under her breath, pleading to the heavens that she and her daughter would be spared. And every time, you knew which daughter she meant. Every time you knew she was praying to be spared from you. Every time you knew it was you who she feared the most in this world. And every time you wondered if one day he’d finally answer her prayers.

You couldn’t even blame her, because a few nights ago you’d done the one thing you’d never thought you’d have to do—kill a man. You knew you were some kind of fucked for that alone.

Then, last night, you began to wonder if this was how your father had felt. You began to wonder if this was why he was dead and not you. You wondered if he’d done it to save you, and to put himself out of his own misery.

And then you began to pray, too. You’d stopped believing in God years ago, but it was an old habit that you sometimes indulged in for some sick kind of comfort. And this time, in the dead of night, you’d shut your eyes and beg for your father’s ghost to return to you. You begged for just one more minute. One more minute and he could tell you how to deal with this; how to survive this, too, just as he had taught you how to endure everything else.

But no ghost ever came, only the perpetual darkness galloped in, consuming you whole.

Your father was gone, and it was all your fault. Guilt was your ghost, not him.

He would still be here if you hadn't—

"Mom thinks you've been possessed by the devil," your little sister's voice brought you out of your mind.

You blinked once. Then, you glanced down at her, taking note of her skeptical eyes and furrowed brows. It was almost as if she were inspecting your face, trying to decipher if you, her older sister, really were possessed as your mother had claimed.

It had been the first time your sister had spoken to you in the past week. The four of you had been walking through the woods, steering clear of the main roads ever since you’d come into contact with that man—the man whose blood you could still taste on your tongue.

She’d taken to walking hand-in-hand with your mother, just a few feet behind you and Felix as the two of you led the way into the unknown. You didn’t know where you were going. You never did. That was the thing about the end of the world—the only thing that mattered was surviving day by day. There was no end-point.

But today while you led the group through the woods, eyes searching for any rodents or small animals to capture for food, your head stuck in the past, your sister had taken the chance to walk into step with you. And those . . . those had been her choice of words.

Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.

And now with the world a ghost of itself, you thought perhaps maybe your mother could be right. You’d changed. The world had changed you. The old taste of blood on your tongue was evidence enough of that.

You’d killed a man. You’d ripped out a chunk of his jugular with your teeth and plunged the very knife in your belt into his flesh over and over again until you were sure he couldn’t do more harm.

Kill or be killed, sure, but . . .

. . . You’d still killed a man.

You’d actually taken a life.

(You weren’t expecting it to haunt you this much. But it had. You could still see his face, hear his voice, smell him, feel him. He was still very much alive in your mind, haunting you like a ghost.

It didn’t matter if he was more monster than man . . . you had still killed him. You had still taken a life without a second thought. His evils didn’t matter . . . guilt still seeped in.)

Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.

And maybe you had been.

That would’ve been easier to fathom.

But instead of voicing these thoughts aloud, you adjusted your backpack on your shoulders, touched a finger to the knife tucked into your belt to make sure it was still there and tightened your grip on your father’s shotgun in your hand before you finally spoke.

"Mom's off her meds," was all you offered. It was all you could say. And it hadn’t been what your sister was searching for.

Your sister stepped back, allowing you to walk alone. You knew you were losing her. You knew she barely trusted you now just as your mother stopped considering you a daughter.

And you couldn’t blame them.

The end of the world brought out who people truly were, and you were someone not worth saving.

The sun had begun to set when you finally declared you’d be stopping for the night. It wasn’t a solid resting place, which meant another night of no sleep on your part, but that didn’t bother you much anymore. All that mattered was there were no signs of the dead, no low groans in the distance, no immediate danger, and the small creek running just a few meters from your camp would provide just enough for you to wet your face and clean any dried blood from your skin. That was what mattered—a temporary sanctuary.

Felix had taken to accompanying your little sister to the creek, while your mother gathered small twigs and broken branches to add to the fire you had just started. But your eyes never stopped watching your little sister, keeping an eye on her to ensure no danger would reach her or Felix while you were occupied.

That was your only concern. Your second was food. There had to be some crawfish lingering in the creek that you could fry up. That was your second concern right after the fire was steady enough to last until nightfall.

With a soft sigh, you forced yourself to tear your eyes from your sister’s smiling face. You tried to ignore how she smiled at Felix while he splashed water at her. You tried to ignore the soft laughter you could still hear as you stabbed at the fire with a branch. You tried to ignore the thought that she’d never look at you like that; never laugh like that with you; never trust you like that again.

You tried to ignore how you had become more of a loose end your family needed to tie off, than a daughter or an older sister.

But you couldn’t. The thought was always there. There it would remain, you were sure of it.

Clenching your jaw, you added the branch in your hand to the fire, watching it crackle under the embers. And for a moment, you wondered what it would feel like if you were to reach forward and let the flames lick your fingertips.

Had he felt like this, too?

Had your father had these thoughts before he died for you?

Did he ever wonder if—

“You’re just like him, you know?” your mother nearly whispered, tearing you from your mind as she set down the pile of branches she had collected.

You glanced at her once, then glared into the fire. “Is that supposed to hurt me?”

She shook her head only once. “It should scare you,” she clarified, standing to her feet so she could tower over you once again. “God’s plan—”

“God’s plan?” you immediately spat out with a humorous scoff, now standing to your feet as well. You were taller than her now, unlike when you were a kid; unlike when you used to do everything she told you; unlike when she still considered you her daughter. “What does God’s plan have to do with my father?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “He has protected us this far. He couldn’t save your father. I’m worried if you continue down this path, he won’t be able to save you either,” she muttered back as she clutched the cross around her neck as if she thought it would ward you off like you had become one of the evils she’d warn you about when you were just a girl.

But you were no longer small; you were no longer moldable by her hand, and now, you were only made of anger. “You think God’s the reason we’re alive?” you questioned her, eyes narrowing into slits.

Your mother remained silent but clutched her cross harder. And you knew what that meant.

Your eyes flicked from her hand to her face. Then, you took a step forward, chin jutted out. “Is it God who kills so we can eat? Is it God who got us here, to this point? Is it God who holds dad’s gun?” you bit out as you touched a hand to your chest. “God doesn’t have a fucking plan.” You drilled a finger into your chest, your angry eyes never leaving hers. “I do. And God couldn’t save dad because it was supposed to be—”

But your words halted in your throat. You couldn’t admit it to her. You couldn’t tell her you were the reason behind your father’s death. It didn’t matter if she already knew. You just . . . you just couldn’t admit it to her face.

“God doesn't fucking exist,” you muttered out instead, turning away from her. “And if he did, he’s sure as hell dead now.”

“Your father filled your head with lies.”

You turned back to her, eyes glaring into hers. “Bullshit,” you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “He was the only one who ever told me the truth.”

Ignoring your words, she took a step away from you, her hand remaining on the cross around her neck. "Your father . . . I knew he was deeply flawed when I married him, but I just figured he’d change. I figured he’d see the way, instead he only got worse, but he knew when to control it. He knew right from wrong,” she went on, her voice steady, but her eyes had begun to water. And you knew tears would come, and when they did, you’d leave to kill the crawfish. "But, you, honey . . . I don't know where we went wrong with you. It's like you came out of the womb defective. You got all the bad traits of your father and nothing else. I look at you and I see this angry little girl. And, you know, sometimes I ask myself how in the world we managed to raise a daughter who is even more deeply flawed than her bastard father, but I never seem to know the answer."

There were the tears now.

But along with it came a knife in your chest that kept twisting and twisting the more she spoke.

Twist the knife, and she did.

"There's something wrong with you,” she whispered again after a moment’s silence, the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. “You frighten me.”

Twist the knife, and you refused to pull it out.

This was what you deserved.

Still, you didn’t cry, not for yourself. Never for yourself. Instead, you continued to stare at her with no emotion in your eyes as you muttered, “Talking ill of the dead is a sin, remember?” And then you began to turn.

But your mother’s hand landed firmly around your arm. “Don’t you turn your back on me, girl,” she warned, her words sharper than the knife she’d twisted into your chest.

Swallowing hard, you sucked on your teeth. “What else do you want me to say?” you questioned, but didn’t bother to turn and face her. “I have nothing else to give you, mom.”

She released your arm as if you’d burned her and hissed, “Don’t call me that.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion for a mere second before you realized what she meant; before you realized what you’d said; what you’d done. It was an honest mistake, as well. You hadn’t called her that in so long, and yet it still came out. You hadn’t meant to say it, but it still came out as if you were still small and thought the whole world was in her arms.

“Then what do you want me to call you?” you asked, your voice quieter now as you took a step back. “If not mom, then what should your daughter call you? Hmm? Or is the answer nothing? Is that what we are to each other now? Will that make God come down from the heavens and give us salvation? . . . If you abandon me?”

Your mother remained silent.

And you knew her answer.

Sucking on your teeth, you nodded in acceptance. “What?” you spoke in a whisper as you took another step back. “Am I not being loud enough for him?” You outstretched your hands at your sides, gesturing to the heavens. “Should I scream it? Will he finally fucking answer then?”

“Stupid girl—” your mother quickly scolded, grabbing you firmly by the arm— “don’t you dare put this family in danger,”

But you only tilted your head in question. “Does that include me?”

Her eyes fluttered, taken back. “What?”

“This family,” you reiterated. “Am I a part of this family?”

Once again, she remained silent.

But you knew the truth.

“God’s plan as long as I’m out of the picture, right?” you muttered under your breath, swallowing hard once again. “At least we finally agree.”

Then, you were tearing your arm out of her grasp, but you didn’t move, you didn’t even look away from her. Instead, you kept still. You kept your eyes locked with hers as if breaking that eye contact would sever the final string holding the two of you together. She didn’t speak either, and she refused to move. She wouldn’t move first. You knew that. She’d always been that way. So had you . . .

And when you were sure the world had begun to rot around you, you could have sworn her bottom lip quivered as if she were on the verge of saying something . . . anything. Only, when her lips parted a mere sliver, a shrill scream sounded from behind, and the perpetual darkness of your world crept back in through your peripheral vision.

Beat. Your heart shot to your throat.

It happened too quickly for you to think.

Beat. Beat.

You heard the scream and you knew your sister was in trouble.

Beat.

Without a second thought, you dropped everything and ran toward the scream; toward the creek; toward your sister. It wasn’t far, but it was far enough for you to catch sight of two of the dead. One Felix fought off, while trying to grab his knife from his belt. The other had found its way to your sister, pinning her to the forest floor as she thrashed and screamed, her weak limbs desperately trying to keep the thing from sinking its teeth into her flesh.

And you knew what to do.

For a brief second longer, there was screaming. Then the squelch of a knife being plunged through a skull. Then nothing.

The world faded away. No noise. No people. No nothing.

One. Two. Three seconds, then the world started to return.

Breathing heavily, you watched carefully as your mother rushed past you, tearing the dead corpse off your sister and holding her closer . . . closer than she’d ever held you. Your nose twitched for a mere second as your gaze shifted from your mother and sister staring at you in shock ((?) no, maybe it was horror) to the stilled corpse, and finally to the bloodied knife gripped tightly in your hand.

You’d killed that thing, yes. But you hadn’t even thought about it. You hadn’t stopped to think that this thing was once a person. You hadn’t even seen it as such, unlike your mother; unlike what the town had tried to drill into your head during Pestilence’s reign. And . . . you could see that realization in your mother’s eyes.

. . . You were getting worse.

Your legs had begun to weaken at the thought, but you quickly stabled yourself, afraid they’d see it as another sign to put you down like the violent dog you knew they saw you to be. Instead, you tore your gaze from the knife in your hand and met your mother’s eyes once again (but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet your sister’s tearful stare). “Tell me, mo—” you quickly stopped the word from tumbling from your tongue, then went on— “is this still what God’s plan looks like to you?”

But your mother didn’t reply, and you didn’t wait for her to. You could barely stand to hold her gaze for a second longer. Instead, you wiped the blood from your knife on your pants, shoved it back into your belt, and turned, walking back to the fire you had begun to make minutes before.

And as you walked, you took note of the silence which followed you. You took note of how even Felix hesitated slightly before he followed after you. You took note of how your mother and sister sat near that creek for a few minutes longer and didn’t bother to wander after you as if you were no longer their blood.

The final string tying your family together had begun to wear thinner. You wondered when it would finally snap. You wondered how long it would take for a violent dog to succumb to its instincts; how long it would take you to become the lost cause you knew you were destined to be.

Would they make the decision to put you down then?

Four days. Two sleepless nights. And one squirrel shared between the four of you. You felt a fever coming on a couple days ago. You saw the infected cuts from the fight with that man. You knew your body was weakening day by day.

If you didn’t stop soon, you’d sure become one of the dead.

But you tried your best to ignore it. You had to.

Your mother; however, remained hopeful (of course). You could hear her chattering on to your sister throughout the day while you watched the world.

According to her, no one really knew why the Horsemen came to earth. She claimed the world needed saving from certain people (what you were sure she was leaving out was the fact that she was convinced you were one of these people). So, she went on and on and on, and you quietly listened, too, because you were still a girl who used to kneel in church, after all; because you could still feel the bruises on your knees; because you could still see the scars left behind from the scabs.

So, you listened, but you did not believe.

The world was fucked and needed cleansing. People were inherently bad and God saw no other way for salvation (apparently) than to send his four loyal Horsemen to destroy Earth and its people. . . . Well . . . supposedly. You knew the truth; however. There were no Horsemen. There was just death. Something had gone wrong and no one really knew what, so they blamed it on some higher power.

Whatever.

(Supposedly) Pestilence had been a shadow. War had wanted an audience. The world fell before you could get a proper grasp on Famine. And now Death was here. He’d been walking the earth for two years now, and still no one knew why.

Just like the town, your mother had her theories. And while she believed this God was still on your side, still searching for the good in humanity, you thought him fucked up. The human race was just his playthings.

He’d made sure there was nothing left.

Hell, you knew there wasn’t even a god. The world was just fucked. The end.

Point blank: it didn’t matter. Nothing did anymore.

Survival was all that mattered.

Everything else was fucked.

And as you continued to lead the way into nothingness, listening to your mother’s ramblings about the Bible, all you could do was ignore how your knees had begun to itch once again, while you focused on one thought: survive, survive, survive. But . . . not for yourself . . . for them.

Survive long enough for them.

For your father.

For your sister.

For your mother.

For Felix.

For them.

By sundown, Felix managed to find an abandoned warehouse for the night. It wasn’t much, but it was better than sleeping out in the wild. Perhaps all of you could get some shuteye that night. Sure, luckily it was around Fall or maybe just before where it was still warm, but sleeping on logs wasn’t ideal. (Not that you could be picky. Not that you were.)

But, just your luck, sleep never found you.

Beside you, Felix softly snored, laying on his back with his arms crossed over his chest and his head resting in your lap. Your hand found its way to his dark waves, gently scratching his scalp as he slept. It brought you peace where you normally had none.

Sometimes you wondered when Felix would finally realize the monster you’d become. You wondered what it would take. How many more people would you kill for them in order for him to look at you as if you were a stranger?

You didn’t want to see that day come.

It’d already come for your mother the day your father died. Then for your sister when you’d butchered that man. You couldn’t bear living through Felix’s realization.

With a sigh, you glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on your mother’s sleeping figure as your little sister curled up into her side, miles away in her dreams. You hoped it was better there; that her dreams were still pure and innocent despite the world.

You tore your eyes from them a second later, instead opting to glance out the large opening in the warehouse where a window used to be. The world was so bleak now. Even the sight of the empty lands before your eyes stirred nothing within you. It was just so . . . distant.

Nothing was left.

Truly.

Reluctantly, you shut your eyes, trying your hardest to drift off into sleep, but the pounding in your head and the scratch in your throat kept you up. You were getting worse. You squeezed your eyes tighter, hoping this fever would subside soon. The world was darker now, the nothingness intensifying. You weren’t even sure if you could sleep anymore. Had you been? You couldn’t remember.

But just when you were sure sleep wouldn’t greet you that night, forcing you to keep watch, you could’ve sworn you heard an inhuman howl echo throughout the darkness beyond.

Your eyes snapped open, heart hammering.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Another howl echoed throughout the air. But this was no howl from a wolf or even a beast.

You’d heard stories from survivors in the towns you’d passed through in the two years Death had taken his reign over your lands. You’d heard the stories of Death and his steed. His steed, pale in color similar to a corpse, was rumored to have this cry.

The cry was no ordinary cry. Death’s steed cried similar to a wolf or rather a beast, hungry for blood. It was a war cry—a warning sign.

Of course, Death was not real and there was no horse with their cry. No, you knew what this was. You’d heard these cries in smaller amounts. You’d heard these cries as you plunged your knife into each undead’s brain, killing the parasite living within. And a howl like this only meant one thing—a hoard.

You swallowed hard.

Death was near.

You’d thought the undead didn’t hoard unless . . .

The man.

Your eyes widened.

The night the man had attacked your group, you had managed to hotwire a car. That had been your plan. You were going to use that car to get your group farther and safer. But because of that man . . . because of what you’d done to him, you’d accidentally popped one of the tires in the process, forcing your group to stay the night in those woods when you should’ve been on the road.

And his screams . . .

You’d slowed down and made yourself known, and now they were following the noise.

And . . . it was all your fault.

You exhaled a shaky breath.

Death was coming.

Immediately, you swung into action, quietly waking Felix up. His eyes questioned yours before he, too, heard the war cry.

Death was coming. Felix knew this now, too.

The two of you silently awoke your mother and sister, Felix informing them of the matter they had on your hands, while you gathered your father’s shotgun, crouching near the window for a better look. If they were near . . . how near?

You swallowed hard.

Maybe you could still run. You could still get everyone out if you ran. It could work—

But then you saw it.

In the distance, you caught sight of the undead as they cried, following each other.

You checked the gun’s chamber, removing and reloading the cartridges just to make sure they were in place in case you were forced to fire. Your grip tightened and loosened, and you could hear Felix whispering your name, but your eyes were transfixed on the hoard up ahead.

Death was here. So close. Too close.

They couldn’t see you now, couldn’t hear you, but . . . if you ran, they’d catch sight of you. They’d kill your family. They’d kill Felix. They’d kill you all.

There was no way you could outrun the hoard. Not when they were this close; not when they could smell you; hear your every breath.

Fuck.

You wanted to scream.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Your father had trusted you. They all had. And now you were going to let another person down all because you’d been stupid one night. You’d fucked all of you.

“Snap out of it,” Felix whispered, his hand on your shoulder. “Ideas?”

You could only shake your head.

Felix swore, running his hands through his hair. "There's no way," he nearly gasped at his words. "Fuck."

You swore you felt your heart drop as you slumped against the wall. They were going to die. Because of you.

There was no way out; no way any of you would make it past the hoard without them noticing. The moment they saw any of you, they’d follow you until they could get their teeth into your flesh. And while you had no care for your own life, you still had care for theirs—the people you'd sworn to protect.

Your father had died for all of you. He knew it wasn't safe, and he still went out. He'd traded his life for yours. He'd made you swear to protect your mother and your little sister, and along the way, you'd sworn to not only keep them safe but to keep Felix from harm. You'd sworn that, and you were not one to fall back on your word.

There was no way out together. But . . . there was one way out.

You knew what that meant.

This was what your father would've wanted. This was what he would've done; what he had done.

It was always going to turn out this way. You'd known that.

And in that moment, you accepted that. After all, you'd always been told you were your father's daughter.

This was how you made things right.

You nodded at your thoughts.

Then, you felt your eyes burn, your brows scrunching in confusion. Wetness slipped down your cheek and you briefly touched a finger to the tear, finding you were crying. You hadn’t cried in so long.

Angrily, you wiped the tears away. You didn’t get to cry.

This had been your fault in the first place. This was how you made it right. You didn’t get to cry. You didn’t.

So you sent one last glare at the hoard up ahead, then turned to Felix. Fuck. He would be the one in charge now. You trusted him, yes, but you knew how heavy that burden was. That was what you would regret the most—putting Felix through this agony, too.

Still: "Little bird," you whispered.

Fearful tears were already in his eyes. "I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"Can't help it. I taught you how to fly," you hummed, voice soft and unlike you.

You both knew what you meant. You'd taught Felix how to fire a gun, taught him how to gut a fish, you taught him how to survive—you taught him how to fly. But he didn't need any more teachings. Like a baby bird, he'd flown from the nest ages ago. He could fly without you. The thought brought a melancholic smile to your chapped lips as you fought back the burning in your eyes when they met his worried gaze once again.

"Makes me feel important." You touched a hand to his cheek. He felt soft under your calloused skin. "But . . . you don't need me anymore."

Felix exhaled with a strained choke, his eyes widening in realization. "No," he rushed out, shaking his head as his soft brown eyes searched yours. "No." His hand enclosed around the one you'd touched to his cheek. "Don't. Don't."

You knew what he meant. Don't be the hero.

But that wasn't his decision to make. You had debts to pay; people to protect.

Living had never been something you wanted in a world like this. Sometimes you felt like a ghost; when the world was quiet and your heart beat a little slower—you felt like one of the many corpses you'd passed by on the daily.

Years ago, you promised your father you'd take over his job and protect. You'd never wanted to live, but you had forced yourself. Back then, you made a promise to yourself—you had to stay alive, not for yourself, but for them; you had to stay alive for the one you had lost. And you'd upheld that promise, but now . . . in order to save them, you had to break it.

You knew this.

Felix did, too.

He rested his forehead against yours. "Please. Don't. It's supposed to be you and me."

Your eyes squeezed shut. "I'm the reason he's dead."

The two of you knew what you meant. This was how you repaid him; how you repaid your father.

"Then let me do it," Felix muttered, hand dropping from yours to grasp the shotgun in your other hand.

You were quick to rip it from his hold. "It was always going to turn out this way," was all you said, and he knew what you meant.

The sound of the cries coming closer made you spring back from him. Your head swiveled, taking in your surroundings as your hands found their rightful place on the shotgun. Your eyes briefly found your little sister's—her round eyes wide with fright, only furthering your decision. You knew doing this for them, for her.

"Fine," you heard Felix hiss in a quiet whisper. "But I'm coming with you."

Your head snapped to him. "Like hell you are."

"You don't get to die."

"Neither do you."

"Then I guess we have a predicament."

Your eyes softened. "Lix."

His brows pinched together. "You don't get to die."

And you almost felt yourself smile. "Little birds are meant to fly," you hummed. Little birds are meant to fly; they aren't meant to die.

He shook his head.

You swallowed hard.

The cries grew closer, and your heart raced. You were out of time. This was your last goodbye.

You gripped his hand. "Protect them."

He latched onto your shoulders. “No. No. I’m not ready. Don’t make me say goodbye to you.”

Against your will, your bottom lip trembled. “It’s not.”

But it was. You both knew that.

Felix could only shake his head. “Please.”

“See you later, little bird,” you hummed, weakly, kissing his forehead before you tore yourself from him. And he reached for you, begging you to stay.

But . . . no amount of pleas could change your mind. You were already moving before Felix could stop you. You didn’t have the heart to glance back at your sister or your mother. You never wanted to live in a world like this, but if you looked back, you feared you might’ve found salvation in their eyes. You couldn’t put them through that. You’d put them through enough.

You worked quickly. You had to. For them.

The quiet cries of the hoard approached, moving slowly. You kept your eyes on their figures, stealthily stepping down the creaky stairs to the bottom floor. From there, you moved to the woods surrounding the area. You quickly crouched down in the dark forest, clutching the shotgun even tighter. This was your father’s, now it was yours, and you were going to use it to save your family.

You weren’t naive enough to think that you could actually kill all of them. But that didn’t matter. You were solely supposed to be a distraction. You would fire that damned shotgun at those things over and over again, not caring if it even did any damage. You just needed to keep their attention long enough to get them to follow you in the opposite direction. That would allow your family to escape. That was all you intended to do.

You knew there was no surviving this. And you were fine with that.

Death didn’t scare you. Not yours, anyway.

So you hunkered down, hands clutched on the shotgun as you waited for the hoard to get near enough to strike.

You heard them before you saw them. The cries echoed throughout the dark night, making your heart pound faster. It became louder and louder, so loud you felt yourself start to tense, and then the first came into view.

It came to a gentle halt, almost as if it had been expecting you. But that couldn’t be. It hadn’t seen you. You were still in the clear.

Still, you watched, remembering the lessons on hunting that your father had taught you. This was how you hunted—quiet, hidden, and alert.

The creature tilted its head back, eyes closed as the moonlight cascaded across its pale face. Your brows scrunched in confusion as you watched it, tilting your head to the side. It was almost as if it were basking in the moonlight, soaking up the feeling of the satellite shining down on it. And then you realized what it was doing: sniffing you out.

Behind it, the world was bleak as the rest of those damned creatures sauntered forward. The trees seemed to sag, the grass stale, and it was quiet, so very quiet. Every step they took, decay followed.

And then they began to move . . . toward the warehouse where your family still resided.

Your jaw ticked as you raised the shotgun. Your father’s instructions rang through your ears and you lined up the barrel, aiming at one of the creature’s chests as it was perhaps the only part of it you had direct access to. You were certain the impact wouldn’t kill it, you were almost certain it wouldn’t even hurt it, but . . . it would distract it, and that was all you needed.

Last week, you killed a man. You ripped out his jugular with your teeth. You’d slaughtered him. So this, killing this entity shouldn’t have made your stomach churn, but it did.

Your world was gone. Death remained. And it was all his doing.

Still . . . still, your finger hesitated on the trigger.

You would die tonight . . . by its hand, no doubt. And perhaps that scared you. Perhaps a part of you truly didn’t want to die. But you dumbed down this hesitation to just pure fear.

Fear that those things would find your family after disposing of your body; fear they’d kill them; fear all of this would be for nothing.

You swallowed hard and adjusted your grip on the gun. You had to try. Your life for theirs. It was that or you all died tonight, and you wouldn’t have that, not after all you had done; all you had put them through.

All you had to do was pull the trigger. And yet . . . you still hesitated.

Fuck. You closed your eyes, clenching your jaw as your heart hammered in your chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And as your eyes remained closed, you heard their voices then.

You're not too far gone.

Mom thinks you’ve been possessed by the devil.

There’s something wrong with you. You frighten me.

You have to grow up. No more kid stuff.

Your breath hitched. You have to grow up. And you had. Too quickly you now realized. It was always going to end up this way.

This was the only way to save them. The only way.

Your eyes snapped open, catching sight of the creatures still sniffing the air like they could just smell your terror. You sucked in a breath, then pulled the trigger. Exhale.

The ringing in your ears was almost immediate and the explosive sound echoed throughout the silent night. You barely even noticed the shotgun’s kickback, too focused on the creatures before you, watching with wide eyes as the pellets hit one of the things, knocking it entirely to the ground.

The others cried out, their noses no longer needing to be depended on as their eyes searched for the origin of the noise. And then you caught the eye of one, and you knew it was the end.

You faltered at the sight, stumbling backward as you tripped on a root, causing your body to hit the ground. A low groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.

Fuck.

Had that been too loud?

Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly glanced up, eyes landing on the creatures. More eyes stared back at you, hungry with . . . something as a few had begun to make their way toward you.

You swallowed hard.

Death itself had seen you.

Acting fast, you hastily grabbed the shotgun. You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up, but you needed to buy your family more time. You needed to end this.

And end it you would.

You clutched the shotgun tightly in your hand and sat up, groaning slightly when you felt a sharp pain in your ankle. But still, you went on.

Remembering your father’s teachings, you knew what a machine was good for at the end of its reign: making a lot of fucking noise.

And so with a heavy heart and angry tears pricking your eyes . . . you belted out a loud yell.

There was no hiding now. They had all heard you. And that was all that mattered to them.

“Come on, you fuckers!” you took it a step further as you yelled at them, clanking the butt of your gun on a tree to make as much noise as you could. And then, when you heard their cries echo with yours; when you saw one turn to two turn to ten following you into the woods, you knew it was time.

With a fleeting look at the warehouse where your family still resided, you fought back the urge to crawl into yourself and let that anger you’d been holding inside yourself for years now finally just . . . snap. You didn’t know if you fired the shotgun at one of the creature’s heads first or ran off further into the woods, still screaming. You didn’t know the present from the past, but you did know you couldn’t look back.

And so, you let yourself be loud, screaming for yourself, for the people you’d lost, for the people you’d never see again, for your father. You yelled and yelled, racing through the woods as they all quickly followed after you, releasing cries of their own.

The world fell behind you in those moments, time moving in slow motion as you weaved through the dark woods, your feet bounding off the ground as if you were in zero gravity. Sound evaded your senses, only the muffled noises of your rapid breathing could be heard echoing in your ears.

But you just kept running, letting the world escape you. Even when you’d trip over hidden roots, your knees buckling as you fell to the ground, surely bruising and cutting up your skin, you persisted each time. Like your father’s daughter, you pulled yourself to your feet each time, sparing a glance over your shoulder only to be met with the sight of the hoard getting nearer and nearer. And every time, you’d force yourself to swallow the bile crawling up your throat before you cocked your shotgun and fired into the hoard, taking off screaming for them to follow after you.

This was the end, and you planned to gather as much of them away from the warehouse and closer to you. You knew it would hurt, but you didn’t care. Their teeth ripping into your flesh would never be a match for the sins you’d committed in this lifetime. That was why you met every dead that got in your path with a lethal hit from the butt of your shotgun and a silent prayer that your damned soul could be traded for the safety of your family.

You were sure you would have continued running had your foot not slammed into a divot in the ground, twisting your ankle with such force that you hit the ground instantly, crying out in pain. And this time when you tried to stand to your feet, you realized the pain was too much to stand.

It hit you then.

Beat.

This really was the end.

You couldn’t run.

Beat.

The hoard was gaining on you.

This was the end.

Beat.

Swallowing hard, you clenched your jaw, shutting your eyes as you realized what you needed to do. Clutching your father’s shotgun close to your chest, so close it nearly touched your heart, your lips parted, and a scream bubbled up your throat, ripping through your vocal cords as it echoed throughout the dead of night.

But before you could inhale and breathe out another war cry of your own to match theirs, a hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your screams. Another hand was gripping your arm the next second, pulling you off the ground and shoving your back against the nearest tree.

Your eyes shot open, dropping your shotgun as your hands instinctively clasped around the wrist of the hand covering your mouth. Deep dark eyes stared back at you, a sense of urgency in them as you realized what was going on.

It happened so fast, too fast for you to process. But you quickly realized the eyes belonged to a man not much older than you. Dark eyes. Full lips. Sculpted nose. It was your first time seeing a man other than Felix . . . other than the one you’d gutted . . . in a long time.

What was he doing?

But you couldn’t ponder long as his eyes twisted to the scene behind you, and you could’ve sworn you felt his heart beat faster against your lips where his hand still lay. And at that sight, he kicked into action.

“You listen to me. We have a few seconds before those fuckers are at our throats,” he spoke in a hushed tone, his voice deep and controlled, but you could sense the fear on him. It was different from yours. “When I tell you, you run as fast as you fucking can in that direction and you don’t stop. You follow me and you don’t get lost or you’re dead.” His hand fell from your mouth as he began hastily digging through the pack over his shoulder. “Got it?”

You skipped a beat, not answering.

His eyes were on you instantly, expectantly.

But you only blinked.

You didn’t want to be saved.

No, he couldn’t do this. It was your time. This was your punishment. He couldn’t—

Your thoughts were cut short as he pulled something out of his pack, and you quickly realized a grenade now sat in his hand. Your eyes widened. He was going to—

“Run,” he bit out, an order.

And it all happened so fast.

You stayed put.

He turned from you, quickly pulling the pin and chucking the grenade as fast and hard as he could from your location. You watched the weapon soar, your heartbeat stilling in your throat as the seconds of anticipation crept upon you.

Beat.

Beat.

Be—

A loud explosion sounded in the distance, the ground shaking beneath your feet as ringing in your ears commenced. Only then did you realize your feet had been moving on their own, carrying you farther and farther away from the scene as you caught a glimpse of the hoard following after the explosion. But you wouldn’t do this. You had accepted your death. You wouldn’t—

Your feet weren’t moving of your own volition. The world had fallen away from you, you realized, but as you turned your head away from the hoard you realized it was the man who was dragging you away from the scene. You realized in your daze, that he must have locked his grip onto your arm and took off running, dragging you along with him despite your injured ankle and dormant mind.

And for some reason, despite the urge to fall to the ground and let yourself fade away, you allowed him to drag you further and further into the woods. You didn’t realize just how much land you had covered until the sound of the hoard was so far, that he’d begun to slow down ever so slightly. You didn’t realize until the woods turned into sparse grassland, until the sight of what appeared to be a latched roof to an underground bunker of some sort. You’d heard of shelters like these, but you’d never seen one. You always just assumed the military had covered it all up, leaving people to die while they sat safely under the barren earth.

Your mind raced with a million thoughts, but you could barely see straight let alone think right as you allowed this man to drag you to the entrance. Hell, you allowed him to shove you inside, as you crawled down the ladder in the tunnel. It was a subconscious action, honest. Otherwise, you would’ve begged him to leave you outside to die. But there was no breath for begging as he followed in after you, shutting the hatch and twisting it closed to ensure it was tightly locked.

And when your feet finally met the metal flooring of the inside, you stepped back in shock.

As you had predicted, this was a government bunker. A rather large one at that. You swallowed hard. Fuck.

And when you turned around, your eyes searching the area, you were met with the scene of a group of survivors staring back at you in confusion. People. And they were alive. You hadn’t seen so many people since before Famine.

What the fuck?

But before you could react, something hard cracked over the back of your head, throbbing pain followed. The darkness seeped in instantly, your mind losing control of your body as you smacked the ground, eyes fluttering as you faded in and out of consciousness.

There it was, you realized.

Your punishment.

You were going to die.

And you couldn’t help but allow yourself one last selfish look because maybe there was still a small part of you that wanted to be alive. But that part could only live if things were normal again, if things were the way they had been before the world died. Still, that part of you took over and you watched silently, your vision fading in and out as you caught a glimpse of those dark eyes that had saved you, just moments before the world faded into darkness.

The next time your eyes fluttered open, a metal ceiling stared back at you.

There was a throbbing in your head, searing through your thoughts, and your shotgun was nowhere to be found. You released a soft groan, trying to shift in your spot, but you were met with resistance. You tugged and tugged, but your body didn’t budge.

In confusion, you glanced around, finding yourself on a medical bed, your hands tied together with rope, attaching you to the bed. This didn’t make sense. You hadn’t seen a bed in months maybe a year now. This didn’t make sense. Where were you? How did you—

And then . . . then the memories all faded in.

The warehouse. The man. The shots. The hoard.

This was Death’s doing.

The town had warned you of this and you’d denied it. You still didn’t believe. You couldn’t. God was dead and the Horsemen were just a figment of fearmongering. But for a second, you wanted to believe. For that second you were strapped to that bed, you wanted to believe that this was your purgatory and Death was punishing you. That would be easier: if you believed.

Death was an entity; one you had no idea about. There was no knowing what exactly he could and couldn’t do. And this . . . being bound to a medical bed with not even a soul to be heard felt utterly ordinary if he did exist, considering what you did know about this dark being.

But . . . why were you still alive?

Slowly, you lifted your head, groaning at the pain that followed as you assessed the rest of your body. You were alive. Cuts and bruises everywhere, but you could still inhale, exhale, breathe. You could still hear the beat of your heart if you closed your eyes and focused. You were alive.

You were alive.

Your jaw twitched. “I’m alive,” you whispered to yourself, a bitter taste left on your tongue. “I”m . . . alive.”

And for a second, you truly allowed yourself to believe Death existed. You allowed yourself that he had done this to you; that the two years he’d reigned all led up to this very moment. You allowed yourself to believe that he had kept you alive because suffering was for the living.

Was this his way of being kind? Sparing you?

Swallowing hard, you glared up at the unfamiliar ceiling. If you prayed, would he give in? Would he end this suffering? Would he finally give you your punishment?

Your mind wasn’t allowed much longer to ponder as the sound of a door opening brought you out of your repenting. Wearily, you watched with stern eyes as a man stepped in, carrying a bowl in one hand and a washcloth in the other. You watched as he let himself in, still not looking up while he closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh and finally . . . glanced up, meeting your gaze.

Him.

The man.

Slowly, your face softened as confusion consumed you. Him. He had done this to you. He had been the one to lead you here. (He’d also been the one to save you . . . ) He had knocked you out cold. And now . . . now here he was.

You clenched your jaw hard.

The man just stared a minute longer at you, his gaze stern, cold, calculating. Then, he was walking toward you, resting the bowl on the bedside table beside your head before he reached forward and tapped a finger to your chin, tilting your head so he could analyze the wounds on your face.

And you let him, analyzing his actions, preparing for his next.

“You’re awake,” was all he simply said as he dropped your chin and diverted his attention to the bowl on the bedside table. “Sorry about the blow and the rope . . . it’s . . . protocol.”

But you remained silent, watching.

"Your stunt back there . . . could’ve cost us this entire place," he muttered, his voice calm and controlled but you knew he was seething inside. He remained quiet as he dipped the washcloth into the bowl of what seemed to be warm water before he turned to you once again, his eyes lethal. "Screaming only attracts more of them, don’t you know? If you wanted to die, you should’ve just stayed put.”

You swallowed thickly.

There was something terrifying about a quiet rage.

"There's always someone like you," he continued, his eyes racking up and down your body in a menacing glare before the warm touch of a washcloth to your cheek startled a quiet gasp out of your lips. "Someone who ends up surviving longer than they should have." A scoff left him. "Someone who doesn’t care who dies for them as long as they get out unscathed. Did you even think there might be other survivors around before you took off attracting all of those things? If there were children? Families? People who survive together and want to stay alive without running into someone like you?”

And you hadn’t.

You never thought yourself to be stupid or any of the sort. You hadn’t been thinking. There hadn’t been enough time. You just needed to do something so your family could make it out alive. You hadn’t thought that there could be others. You hadn’t thought that saving your family could damn another.

Had your mother been right about you?

Were you really just a stupid girl? A stupid girl playing hero?

The man pulled a chair from the corner of the room, and placed it beside your bed, sitting on it as he dragged the washcloth down your arms now. His touch was somehow gentle despite his glare. Perhaps it was because no one had touched you so gently in so long. Perhaps it was because you had given up, but you let him clean the wounds on your body as you rested your head back onto the pillow, your muscles relaxing ever-so-slightly.

"No?" he questioned, reiterating his accusation. “In my experience, people like you don’t find themselves in trouble like that unless they’re planning something.”

You remained expressionless as you watched him, taking in his words. He thought you’d lured the dead here, and for what? Looting? Or just plain insanity?

Had you really become that corrupt even a stranger could sense it on you?

Slowly, you blinked, wondering if your father had ever felt this way before his death. And as you wondered, the man beside you continued cleaning your wounds, but this time, remained silent. Maybe he realized you wouldn’t answer. Or maybe he already knew the truth about you and your damned soul.

And as the minutes of silence ticked on, you did your own inspection.

Now, under the light, the man sat beside you, his eyes fixed on meticulously cleaning each wound with care despite his lethal words. It had been so long since you’d seen another man like this; a man that had to be around your age; a man so young yet so riddled with age. His dark hair was slightly curly, more tangled and messy than anything as if he hadn’t slept in days. The dark circles under his equally dark eyes were enough to show his evident sleep deprivation. And yet, he seemed almost too alert: his full lips were hidden as his teeth worried his bottom lip while he continued to clean the blood from your skin.

(You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t beautiful; so beautiful it almost made you believe in God once more.)

And for a second, you let yourself wonder what else your mother had been right about. You let yourself believe once again. You let yourself be a girl who could finally kneel in church without bruises being left behind. For a moment, you let yourself believe that she and the town had been right; that this whole thing was God’s plan; that the Horsemen had come; that they could be saved, but you would be condemned.

Then . . . you began to wonder if you had already been. Maybe it was the blow to the head you’d taken or the fever raging through your body or maybe it was the truth, but you began to believe that perhaps this was your purgatory; perhaps you had died in that hoard and you’d been sent here; perhaps the beautiful man beside you was Death himself.

Was this it then? Were you always meant to see him at the end?

Oddly enough, he reminded you of this small dog your sister had found near one of the abandoned houses your family had stayed in over the years. This was during Famine’s rule—when food became sparse, when lands became stale and yellowed; when the dead had only just begun to migrate south. This tiny dog found your younger sister then, and she’d brought it home, leaving you no choice but to care for the little thing.

Your sister had named her Berry. (A few months later you had to put her down; it was what we had to do to survive, you’d told your sister back then. You were sure it was then she first started to hate you.)

And as you stared at Death, taking note of how his eyes were a particular shade of brown, you realized they were the same shade that the silly dog had.

You tilted your head. Death somehow had eyes that were kind; eyes that were warm; eyes that reminded you of Felix. Was that how they planned to transfix you? Was Death meant to be this beautiful; this familiar so you’d go willingly? Had God forgotten you’d already condemned yourself? Had he forgotten you didn’t need to be tricked? Had he forgotten where your prayers resided?

Only a moment later, when you felt his hands running over your torso, did you snap out of your exhaust-ridden daze. You realized quickly he was cleaning the last of your wounds which resided on your ribs. And when he was done, he tossed the washcloth into the bowl without another care before he slowly leaned back, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched you with scrutinizing eyes.

Death narrowed his gaze, but it wasn’t menacing this time. Rather, he seemed almost perplexed. "Why aren’t you fighting?" he questioned. "You didn’t stop to run before. Why calm your fire now?"

Why aren’t you fighting?

The thing was: it was over. Your fight was over.

Sure, you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Death was painfully beautiful . . . but it went beyond that.

It was surely daylight by now.

Daylight had come, hours had passed, and Death had you in his hold.

By now, Felix had probably taken your mother and sister onto the road again. They’d escaped, and they were miles and miles away from you and Death. They were safe.

So . . . where was your fight?

You didn’t have one anymore. This was the end. Death would either kill you or make you suffer again and again and again, and your family would live. You’d once told yourself that you never wanted to live in a world like this, but you’d kept yourself alive to protect your family. Only now . . . you didn’t need to fight because there wasn’t anyone left for you to protect.

Your fight was over. Maybe you could rest now. Maybe he’d let you.

Death seemed to catch onto the shift in your demeanor as he narrowed his eyes. "Do you not speak?"

For a moment, you considered not replying. Until: "There's no point," you heard yourself say, voice dry and hoarse.

The look on Death’s face was unreadable as his eyes shifted across your face, his mouth slightly parted. "You smell of death," he muttered, gaze still searching your being.

And you almost laughed.

Because this was your end, and Death himself just told you that you smelled like shit or well . . . like him, you supposed . . . apparently.

It all felt a little unreal.

Death must not have liked your silence as he shot you one last glance before he pulled away and walked toward a table on the other side of the room. As he walked, you caught sight of the blood painting his body, his skin, him.

You swallowed hard. You’d brought that hoard to him. He’d fought his way out. You’d caused those wounds, and now he was more than likely going to do worse to you. He’d probably take that scythe you were told he carried and cut your head clean off.

But unlike what you thought, Death sifted through the miscellaneous items on the table before pausing and grabbing a small knife. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched him approach you, knife in hand.

There it was.

This was the end you were promised.

Was he going to slit your throat and leave you to bleed out? Or cut you open so you could see just how dark your heart had become? You wouldn’t put it past him. Hell, you might have even welcomed it. But as he approached you, your eyes closing in anticipation, he did not bring that knife down upon your body. No, instead, with a few quick motions and the sound of the rope being cut, you slowly opened your eyes just as your hands were released from the rope’s grip.

On instinct, you brought your hands close to your chest, rubbing your raw wrists. You couldn’t even speak, you just watched as he kept the knife in his hand but returned back to his position of leaning back against the chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on you.

"You're human," you found yourself uttering as you watched him watch you.

His brows twitched in confusion. "Of course I am.”

But Death couldn’t bleed. . . . Could he?

"You bleed,” you spoke your thoughts, dumbly.

His eyes met yours, but only briefly. "Am I not meant to?" he bit out before his gaze fell back on your hand rubbing your wrist. "Even the dead bleed."

Your confusion only spiraled. This was your end; your purgatory. This was Death, was he not? Your mother had been right. She had to have been right otherwise you were still alive; otherwise, you had managed to escape death once again without so much as a punishment. That wouldn’t be fair. That wouldn’t be right. That wouldn’t be just.

This had to be Death. You had to be dead or somewhere in between. It didn’t matter, this just had to be your end.

So, why hadn’t he condemned you yet?

Why—

"Why—” Death interrupted your thoughts, once you finally dropped your hand from your wrist— “did you think I couldn’t bleed?"

You glanced his way, finding his eyes already on you.

His stare only unnerved you more.

Why couldn’t he just kill you? You deserved it.

Your brows furrowed. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to play with your food?" you found yourself spitting out, finally finding your voice despite his devasting beauty capturing your words. "I put your lives in danger. I lead them here like you said. I could be with anyone. Having me here could kill you all, so take your revenge. Kill me."

The crease between his brows deepened further. "I'm not letting you die," he simply said, his anger quiet and calm . . . still. “You put my group in harm's way. I won’t pardon you for that . . . but . . . we don’t kill the living.”

That only unnerved you further.

Was this truly Death?

Surely he had killed before.

Although . . . you supposed perhaps he’d only just ever waited. Was that his fault? Waiting for the dead to find him? Is that how he found you in those woods? Is that how he’d taken your arm and helped you crossover to the other side? But . . . if that were true . . . where was your father now? Surely, he would’ve come to see you. Surely, he would’ve been the first one knocking at your door. Surely, he’d be here.

As you briefly wet your lips, your eyes flicked up to meet his. “Where’s my dad?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

A look of deep confusion twisted onto Death’s face, and then he was leaning forward to feel your forehead with the back of his hand. “Fever,” he mumbled more to himself before he pushed himself to his feet, the chair screeching against the floor. “Get some rest. Someone will be in to bandage you up and . . . I’ll be back in a couple hours with medication.” His gaze dropped to the large gash on your arm from just a few nights ago. “When you’re healed, we’ll give you some supplies and then you’ll be on your way, understood?”

But you just stared at him, silently pleading. Pleading for what? You didn’t know. All you knew was if your father wasn’t here, you couldn’t be dead. And if you weren’t, you wanted to be. You’d be able to find him then, because although you were no longer a girl who could kneel in church, you could still feel the scabs on your knees from years ago; you could still remember what it was to believe so blindly; you could still feel that insistent desire for there to be something beyond this world . . . something after this world.

There just had to be. You had to see him again. You had to find him.

You could die now. You could find him now. You would find him.

“Great,” Death muttered under his breath, breaking you out of your own mind. And with one final glance at your exhausted body, he began to turn and head for the door.

Fear struck you then. You had to find your father. “Wait, please—” you hastily grabbed onto his arm, only being able to reach his hand enough to dig your nails into his skin to halt him— “I beg of you.”

His eyes snapped to yours, wide and cautious as if at any moment, one wrong move and he’d grant your wishes. And all you could do was hope.

“Kill me,” you weakly whispered, hopelessly searching his eyes.

His brows twitched, taken back.

“Death,” you begged in a whisper, your bottom lip trembling, “please.”

But Death only stared back at you with a perplexing look written across his face. It was as if he couldn’t believe your request. Had no one ever begged him to die?

A heavy beat of silence pounded in your ears.

Death only continued to stare, a world raging on behind his eyes as he took you in. His demeanor was still calm, still collected, but he seemed . . . perturbed by your request, by your presence, by you. And you watched as his eyes trickled across your face, searching for something until finally . . . his gaze zeroed in on your cheek, his brows furrowing.

Then . . . you felt it.

A tear had slowly begun to slip down your cheek as if your body knew it was a sin to cry. But you were . . . crying that was.

You nearly gasped.

Another tear trickled down your cheek. Guilt followed.

But just as you were about to angrily wipe it away, there was a sharp knock at the door, breaking both you and Death out of your spell. The door opened a second later, a man peaking his head in with a solemn look on his face.

The man didn’t spare you a glance, he only cleared his throat and said, “Chris?” His brows raised, a silent message passing between the two. “A minute.”

Death only nodded, and then the man was gone, the door shutting behind him. Silence followed, but Death stayed unmoving, his arm still in your tight grasp.

“You won’t run,” he slowly spoke, his words a statement, not an order, but he didn’t turn to look at you. He kept his eyes on the door. “I don’t kill the living. I won’t kill you.” He paused, audibly swallowing, and then his eyes were on you. “And I know you won’t kill us.”

And then he was gone before you could blink, quickly tearing his arm out of your grasp before he reached the door and closed it behind him. You were alone with yourself once again, your thoughts running wild as your hand remained outstretched, almost frozen in place.

I know you won’t kill us, he’d told you.

But how could you kill Death? How did he know you wouldn’t if he didn’t give you what you wanted? How could he be so sure that you weren’t a killer, when you so clearly were?

You had killed before, and if he didn’t take you to the other side, you’d surely kill again. That was who you had become. That was who you were. He should’ve known that.

And then as you slowly laid your head back onto the pillow and allowed the minutes to tick by, the throbbing in your head began to subside, and the world became a little clearer. You were no longer a girl who could kneel in church. You did not believe anymore. The world had gone to shit, and it wasn’t because of God’s plan. There were no Horsemen. Your family was gone. And that . . . that man had not been Death.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you swallowed thickly. What was happening to you?

It all hit you then.

These were a group of survivors. That man surely was their leader, and you had just led hundreds of the dead to their doorstep. They should’ve killed you for that alone. You would’ve. You wouldn’t even hesitate if this had been your family. You would’ve done everything to keep them safe, even if it meant killing others, and yet . . .

I won’t kill you.

But why? You deserved it. You could see it in his eyes that he knew.

These were good people. And you were their bad omen.

It wouldn’t be long before your presence brought misery upon them, too, just as it had to your family. And it’d be all your fault.

You’d live, only to see many die. You’d make it out unscathed just as you always had, while they’d suffer, just as he had said.

It was then you realized this was not your purgatory, it was your Hell.

taglist:

@amaranth-writing @binchanluvrr @dreamingsmile @eternalrajin

(i did post the teaser like a year ago, so if you want to be taken off, send me a lil message <3)

#bang chan fanfic #bang chan #bang chan fic #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #stray kids #skz #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #skz fic #skz fanfic #skz smut #bang chan au #bang chan series #kpop #skz bang chan #stray kids bang chan #bang chan masterlist #skz masterlist #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan fic recs #bang chris #chris bang #chris bang smut #bang chris smut #chan smut

[moonlightwonie]

Can I please request something with bang chan?

You've been trapped by his presence and he won't let you go and you're losing the spark in your eyes and chan doesn't know what to do.

So he tries to fuck his love unto you.

'Tell me how to make you happy?', 'tell me what I need to do for you to love me'

TW: ANGST & SMUT, NSFW 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT‼️

bf!bangchan x gn reader || word count: 1.3k

angst, crying, dirty talk, spit, choking, kind of toxic tbh (oops) i wrote a lot, so prepare yourself 🫣

꧁ MAKE YOU FEEL MY LOVE꧂

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★ 🔮 ☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

you and chan had been dating for a little over a year now, from the moment you two started dating, you had always spent so much time together. whenever you weren’t together it was only because of work or day to day activities, where you absolutely couldn’t be together. he’d always showed you and told you how much he loved you from the beginning, which was a little overwhelming to you at first, but you were still attracted to him and loved being around him. you could tell that he was a special guy, you just needed some time to get comfortable and let yourself fall for him.

as time went on, you just felt the spark kind of dying out, atleast on your end. you loved chan, but whenever it came down to anything intimate, you just weren’t feeling any… electricity; and that really bugged you, because how could you not be sexually attracted to him?? he’s handsome, has a big heart, a wicked sense of humor, and he treated you like a queen. he was a total sweetheart, you were his whole world. his top most priority was making you feel happy and loved. you couldn’t keep going on like this, how could you lead him on any further? you didn’t want to hurt him, you did love him after all, you just weren’t feeling that spark anymore.

once he got home from practice, you were immediately greeted with a big, bright smile and open arms, “heyy, baby!! c’mere, i missed you” he said as you walked over to him and gave him a small hug, which was nothing compared to the giant bear hug he gave you. “chris, we have to talk… it’s important” you muttered as you nervous bit on your lip, averting your gaze to the floor as you tried to calm your nerves.

the cheeriness and joy in his eyes quickly turned to worry and concern, taking your hands in his as he looked at you with a small frown. “w-what is it, y/n? is something wrong?” he’d ask you, making you shake your head and walk him over to the couch. “i don’t know how to say this… but… uh, well…” you’d start saying before looking up into his eyes, seeing the anxiety plastered on his face.

“it’s okay, it’s okay… just.. just say it, love” he muttered softly as he fought some tears in his eyes. because deep down he had a feeling of where this conversation was going. he could feel the difference in how you looked at him, the hesitation whenever he’d go to hold your hand, whenever he kissed you or when you two had sex, everything just felt off.

you sighed softly at his words and shook your head, “i.. chris, you’re such a good guy.. and you have always treated me so so well” you started to say, “but i just… i don’t think i have feelings for you anymore… i love you, just… just not like-“ you were cut off by your boyfriend, “just not what? like a boyfriend?? is that it?” he covered his mouth, tears boiling in his eyes as he tried to form proper sentences through the hurt, “how long have you felt this way? is it something i said or did? is something i didn’t do???”.

“no no no, baby, it’s nothing that you did.. it’s just-“ you went to wipe his tears, but he shook his head and gently pushed your hands away. “is it because of my schedule? i’ll drop everything if it means making you stay.. i’ll do anything for you to stay, absolutely anything for you to love me!! just tell me, y/n, what do i have to do for you to love me??” he asked as he fell to his knees infront of you. “do i not please you good enough? b-because i can do better, yeah.. i can be better for you and make you feel good, is that what you want, baby??” he asked eagerly as he bit his lip whilst looking into your eyes, tears filled in his own as he gently caressed your knees, “please?”.

fuck. you had no words. god, you hated yourself for this. you had this precious man literally crying on his knees, begging for you to love him. why couldn’t you just be normal and fall for him? fuck. you hated it whenever chan would cry, especially knowing it was because of you. “chris, it’s not that easy.. it’s not like that” you’d tell him as you wiped away his tears, “well can’t i atleast try? do you know how much this kills me? i just want you to love me” he sniffled whilst tilting his head, “please, please let me show you how much i love you? maybe i can make you love me, one way or another, i don’t care”.

you sighed heavily before nodding and caving into his words, sniffling at your own tears as you looked down into his eyes. “o-okay, channie… just please don’t cry” you said before you were interrupted by a sudden kiss to your lips. he cupped your face and pulled you in closer, kissing you deeply as he began untying his sweatpants. you had to admit, you didn’t mind having sex with him, you just didn’t feel the emotional elements of it with him… or maybe just not as deeply as him.

one thing lead to another, the two of you had been lying on the same couch you’d both been crying on, feeling him split you open with his cock and hold your hips in place. you couldn’t help but moan and mutter his name, he’d been making you feel so good, after all. “y-ya like that, baby? does.. hmm, does that feel good?” he’d asked you as he leaned down to kiss and suck on your neck, “do you see how much i love you? how much i’m willing to prove my love for you?” he muttered against your salty skin. you didn’t know what to say, you had already been feeling all fucked out AND he was making you feel good, but you still felt so guilty, because you knew this wouldn’t change anything, and yet here you were letting him use your body like this.

“tell me you love me, baby.. p-please? please just tell me once?” he begged as he looked deep into your eyes, making you sigh and throw your head back, “i… i.. i can’t” you said through your moans, feeling a pit in your stomach as you cursed yourself. “w-what?” he asked with wide eyes, slowing down his movements as he looked into your eyes. “just tell me what i have to do to make you happy… tell me what the fuck i need to do in order to make you love me, y/n?” he said as he unintentionally tightened his grip on your hips, feeling frustrated.

as strange as it may sound, you rarely ever heard him swear, so it you found it a little hot when you heard him say ‘fuck’ and hold your hips so mean. you felt a little tickle in your stomach as you bit your lip. you were so used to your boyfriend being so gentle with you and being afraid to hurt you, but right now all you wanted was him to take out his hurt and stress onto you and manhandle you. “can you.. b-be a little rougher? i can take it.. just don’t be gentle” you said softly as you felt your cheeks heat up, “i’ll use the safeword if i want you to stop”.

chan was taken a little aback by what you had asked of him. he was certainly surprised, but lord knows he’d do absolutely anything to make you happy and to love him, so he did just as you asked. he picked up the pace of his movements and began pounding in and out of you at an almost animalistic rate whilst you wore his hand around your neck like the prettiest choker you’d ever worn. “do you like being treated like a filthy whore, baby? is that all it takes for you?” he snarled at you as he forced your mouth open and spit into it. he grinned widely when he seen your eyes light up.

you couldn’t contain yourself, you were tugging at his wavy locks and screaming so loud for him, he’d never made you feel this good before- no one had. “d-don’t stop… please, daddy” you begged him desperately, the nickname you referred to him as only encouraged him to go harder, “feels so good”. not too long after, you both finally finished and rode out your highs. shit, you were seeing stars and could barely think straight. but one thing was for sure, not being treated like you were something fragile for once made you feel something, for sure. who knew all it took was for your boyfriend to treat you like a whore every now and then? <3333

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★ 🔮 ☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

i hope you enjoyed that, i apologize if that wasn’t you had in mind! i hope you guys liked it hehe<333

if you don’t like my content you can either keep scrolling or just block me, no need to send negativity ♡

#skz x reader #skz smut #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz x male reader #skz x female reader #skz x gn reader #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x gn reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids bang chan smut #bangchan smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #🔮stray kids #🔮bang chan #🍥spit #🍥dirty talk #🍥choking #enhypen smut #kpop smut #nct smut #ateez smut

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 6

AN: Let it be known that this Chris lives in my head rent-free. I know exploring free use with a dominant partner isn't a new concept, but I still don't see it explored as much, so I thought it would be fun to try my hand at it. Especially with the king of the service doms.

Synopsis: Everything sucks. Today might be one of the worst days of your life (and that's against some stiff competition). Fortunately for you, you have a boyfriend who is more than happy to distract you.

General tags and warnings: Christopher Bang/Bang Chan x Fem! Reader, established relationship, some angst early on but, nothing too bad imo, Christopher being the nation's best boyfriend and that's it. This is pretty much porn with very little plot.

Primary kink: Free use.

Smut tags and warnings: Chris struggling to relinquish control lmao but, Soft Dom! Chris nonetheless, sub! Reader but she does take charge quite a bit in this, free use, facesitting, slight overstimulation (f. receiving), piv sex without a condom, dirty talk, lots of praise and petnames because it's Chris, Daddy kink, creampie and nipple play (f. receiving).

Word count: 2k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You're surprised you're able to still trudge through your front door after the day you've had. Between completely forgetting about an assignment that was due today, six separate customers yelling at you and your phone screen shattering, saying today has been a bad day would be putting it kindly. You've never wanted to just disappear to a cottage in the countryside more. You're sure you could convince Chris to leave with you.

Speaking of which, the sight of your boyfriend on your shared couch does help ease some of the overall terribleness that has been weighing you down all day. Dropping your bag, you make your way over to him. Wrapping your arms around his broad, solid body while you nuzzle against his neck. His mere presence is enough to relax the tension in your shoulders and soothe the anxiety that never seems to quite go away.

“Hi baby. Didn't know you were home. How was your day?” He asks, taking off his headphones. Placing them and his laptop on your coffee table, which does make you pout a little since he's no longer in your arms. However, he does turn to you and you're struck with just how soft and handsome he looks. That, combined with his question, makes your throat burn and your eyes start to sting.

“Horrible,” you mutter, nestling yourself into his chest and sighing contently when he rubs your back and happily crushes you to his frame. It's easy to forget everything when he holds you like this. All the shitty professors, entitled customers and piles of coursework fade away and there's nothing in your mind but, Chris.

“I'm sorry, baby. Do you want to talk about it? How can I make it better?” God, does he have any idea how irrevocably in love with him you are? Sometimes, you think you might have been some hero in a past life for him to wind up in your life. However, you mull his offer over before an idea finally sets in.

“Lavender?” You ask, blinking up at him and pressing yourself as close to him as humanly possible. Clutching at his simple, thin shirt while you wait for his answer.

“Are you sure? You have had a pretty shitty day so I don't know–”

“Yes, Daddy. I'm sure. So, lavender?” You don't mean to cut him off but, you really do need this right now. His concern is sweet and you always appreciate it but, you just need to shut your brain off for a few hours.

Exhilaration creeps up your spine as you watch the way his face shifts when your words register to him. His hold on you tightening marginally but you notice it all the same.

“Okay, lavender.”

That's all it takes for you to launch yourself into his lap. Nearly toppling both of you over in the process but, Chris steadies you while you make yourself at home in his lap. Holding his face in your hands while you slot your mouth against his. It's messy and more eagerness than anything on your end but, it feels so good to just kiss him again. Chris does try to bring some order into your uncoordinated liplock, guiding your mouth against his while his hands rest on your hips.

Sex wasn't on your mind before you walked through the front door but, now? Grinding down on the hardness you can feel starting to form under you while you explore Chris's mouth? Desire twists like a knife in the pit of your stomach. Your clit throbbing with every clumsy brush against his lap and your walls starting to clench and unclench almost painfully. It's probably some record how quickly your panties become a mess while you hump against Chris for dear life.

“Off please,” you breathe once the two of you separate to catch your respective breaths. Saliva smeared across both of your mouths and you would dive back in if you weren't so focused on getting his shirt off. Luckily for you, Chris is just as impatient as you are so he tugs it off within seconds. Tossing it to be forgotten on your living room floor.

You can't help the moan that bubbles out of you at the sight of his bare chest. You've seen it thousands of times and it still never fails to turn your blood molten. Palming as much of him as your hands can, you litter his neck with kisses and nips. Whimpering into his skin when his hands drift from your hips to grab and knead your ass over your work skirt. His hips shallowly thrusting up into you. Fuck, you're already so tightly wound.

A startled noise leaves Chris when you (gently) shove him onto his back but, he doesn't complain otherwise. Just watches you with a mixture of want and curiosity through his curly hair. His eyes widen when you eventually shuffle up his body until you're hovering over his beautiful face. A shudder runs through you when his tongue darts out to lick his full lips before his dark eyes meet your own again.

You're too desperate to care about getting undressed so, you hurriedly shove your panties to the side before easing yourself onto his face. The first touch his mouth against your drenched, puffy folds sends you reeling. You grab the back of the couch in an attempt to steady yourself but, Chris doesn't give you a chance. Lapping and sucking at you with so much intensity from the get go that you can already feel your thighs starting to quiver.

“Ah, Daddy,” you whimper when he decides to focus all of his attention and energy on your clit. “Fuck, oh my god,” comes your broken moan when he attaches himself to it. Licking and drawing patterns into that you couldn't hope to decipher at the moment when it feels like you're able to break into a million, little pieces soon. It's all so lewd and obscene and hot. The wet sounds of him eating you coupled with your wanton noises of pleasure seeming to echo throughout your entire apartment.

Your hips move on their own accord. Using his unfairly gifted mouth and cute nose to get yourself off. You're practically riding his face at this point and, based on the moans Chris presses into you, he's enjoying this just as much as you are. You know if he had it his way, he'd be using his hands to shove you even further into his face but, he's happy to lay there and let you use him until you're satisfied.

Which doesn't take all that long. Usually, you're pretty good at being able to tell when you're about to orgasm but, this time it catches you completely off-guard. A jumbled mess of ‘Daddy’ and ‘Chris’ fall from your lips as your body convulses. Your fingernails dig into the couch so fiercely that for a fleeting moment you're worried you might have ruined it.

Chris doesn't allow your mind to wonder for too long, though. Licking your gushing wetness like it's the first bit of liquid he's had in days while his nose brushes your throbbing clit. Your thighs shake and tightening around his head as the familiar burn of overstimulation starts to settle in the apex of your thighs and creep to your extremities.

“Da–Daddy,” you choke out, winding your hand into his hair and tugging his mouth away from you, “To–Too much,” you finish with a great deal of effort. Using all of your strength to move off of him until you're hovering over him. Your respective, unsteady breathing all that can be heard.

Cracking an eye open to look at him is a grave mistake. Between his wild eyes, unruly hair, flushed cheeks and full, bruised lips covered in you, you never stood a chance. And the sporadic clenching and unclenching of your still not filled pussy helps make that abundantly clear.

Chris watches you while you shift down his body. Air catching in his lungs when your hands reach for the waistband of his sweats and impatiently tug them down. He's so hard and a teasing dribble of pre-cum leaks from his tip that you can't help yourself from bending down and licking it.

“Fu–Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, throwing his head back while his hands clench and unclench at his sides. Cute. His hips just barely jerk up in search of more relief from your mouth but, you don't give him the satisfaction. You have other plans in mind.

Grabbing his thick cock, you guide it to your dripping entrance. Just barely able to keep your eyes open to watch him as you sink down onto him. You lose that battle very quickly. Your eyes fluttering shut with every inch of him you sink down on until he's fully inside of you. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You can already feel tears building up at the corners of your eyes just at the sheer fullness you feel right now.

“–so tight. Such a good girl. Always so fucking good,” Chris's words bring you back down for a moment and you blink your bleary eyes open to look at him. Your walls clamp down on him harshly when the sight of your sweaty, flushed boyfriend greets you. That's all the prompting you need to start a brutal pace. His cock just opens you up so deliciously that you can't help but bounce on it. The sounds of your skin hitting his and the filthy squelching between your thighs nearly drowning out your shared noises of pleasure.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you chant, impatiently tugging open your work shirt and shoving down your bra until your breasts are finally free. Chris's eyes burn as they watch you palm your tits and tug on your nipples until you're just barely able to focus on fucking yourself stupid on him. “I feel so good, Daddy. Your cock makes me feel so full,” you whimper after an especially harsh twist of your nipples.

“Yeah?” He pants out, his dark locks starting to stick to his sweaty forehead while his eyes struggle to pick between looking at your beautiful face, your hands toying with yourself or his cock disappearing inside of your scorching pussy. “Does my princess like using Daddy to get herself off, hmm? Does it feel good to fuck yourself on Daddy's cock while he just lies here? Tell me, baby.”

“Y-Yes, so good, Daddy. Your cock feels ah fuck so amazing, Daddy. You feel so good, Daddy.” You whine, one of your hands snaking its way between your thighs to rub against your swollen clit. A fractured moan bubbling out of your throat while you rub frantic circles against yourself and try to maintain the pace you set on Chris's cock.

“That's good. You look so pretty using me to get yourself off, sweetheart,” he coos, giving you a smile so soft that you can feel your heart grow in your chest while your release grows closer and closer. “Are you going to cum, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock, beautiful? Hmm? I want you to. Wanna see you cum so badly. Wanna feel you make a mess all over me.”

And just like that you feel your entire body seize. You're not even aware of what's coming out of your mouth right now but, you can't bring yourself to care. Your vision blurs at the edges while your entire body shudders. It takes every ounce of you not to completely collapse ontop of him while you ride out the waves that keep crashing into your limp body.

“–my girl,” is all you hear in the distance before you feel his large hands grab your hips and something warm filling your spasming walls. Opening your eyes with a great deal of effort, you're greeted with the sight of a panting, fucked out Chris. His cock pulsing inside of you with every rope of cum that shoots out of it. That does eventually prompt you to collapse onto his sturdy chest. Nuzzling into his neck while your shared releases start to leak out of you.

“Feel better?” He asks, rubbing your back soothingly while pressing featherlight kisses against your forehead.

“Yes, thank you. I love you,” you mutter tiredly into his skin, pressing yourself as close to him as you can.

“I love you too, baby,” are the last words you hear before succumbing to the fatigue that's been calling you all day.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

#bang chan smut #chan smut #stray kids smut #christoper bang smut #chris bang smut #bang chan x reader smut #chan x reader smut #stray kids x reader smut #christopher bang x reader smut #chris bang x reader smut

[bloodorangesoup]

Kinktober '23 Day 3 - Dacryphilia (SKZ Bang Chan)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Warnings: crying (obv), handjob, oral (m. receiving), chan cums in readers mouth (gross 🙄), fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: this is not proofread so bear with me 😁 think I did this right? Let me know 😭 also would anyone be interested in a taglist for kinktober?

-

Chan dragged his feet as he got into the elevator, huffing when he had to lift his arm to press the button for your floor. His eyes closed as his muscle memory led him down the hall to your room. Using his key to unlock the door, he stepped in and stood at the entrance, taking a moment to relax in the solitude and comfort of your apartment. 

“Channie, is that you?”

He smiled at the sound of your voice. After a moment without responding he heard your footsteps draw towards him. His eyes were still closed when he felt your hands lift the backpack off his shoulders and slip his beanie off. He sighed as you ran your fingers through his hair, combing through the flattened strands. A soft peck met his lips. He was too exhausted to kiss back, but you could see his appreciation in the sad smile that greeted you once you pulled back. 

Finally opening his eyes, he saw the concern on your face, your eyebrows lifted up. Your head quirked to the side. Chan thought you looked like some adorable confused puppy. Sliding your arms around his waist, you left a kiss to his shoulder, never breaking eye contact. 

“You okay, baby?” You asked sweetly, your voice soft in the quiet room. 

“Just tired s’all,” he whispered back. His eyes closed as he let his head rest on top of yours. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Nah,” he said nonchalantly. But you knew him better than that, there was something on his mind. “Just wanna hold you right now.”

“Well, I can do that.” He could hear the smile in your voice. You shuffled your bodies to the couch, helping Chan remove his jacket on the way. He let his body fall onto the couch, keeping hold of you and pulling you down with him. Your head rested on his chest, feeling his heart steadily beat as he held you. Your right arm was against the couch, holding his back, while your left arm rubbed his chest. Your hand moved up to rub his shoulder.

“Ah, Channie, you feel so tense,” you pouted. 

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’m just sore from practice today, we started some new stunts today.” You looked up to see his grimace with that last part. 

“Don’t overwork yourself, then you won’t be able to dance at all,” you frowned. You slid your hand down his torso, slipping it under his sweatshirt. He sighed as he felt your cold hands cool the skin of his stomach. Your fingers glided over his abs. His heartbeat quickened under your ear. Rubbing circles on his chest, you could feel him start to breathe hearder under you. 

“Y/n,” Chan whispered.

“Yes, baby?” Your finger circled his nipple, sliding over it and pulling a moan from his mouth. He hissed when you did it again. “Shhh,” your hand slid back down his stomach, “you had a stressful day didn’t you, baby?” His eyes were shut tight as he slowly nodded his head. “Let me take care of you. Can I take care of you, Channie?” He nodded eagerly this time, feeling his cock begin to stiffen at your words. “Good boy, let me take care of you, okay?” Chan’s head was buzzing from the praise. It was a stressful day. The way you were all sweet on him and helping him relax began to swell up his chest. 

His train of thought was cut off when he felt your right hand slide from under him. Your hand cupped his jaw, thumb pulling on his chin to slightly open his mouth. The next thing he felt was your lips capturing his upper lip. You wasted no time slipping your tongue into his mouth. He gladly invited it, his own toying with yours as you sucked on his lip. Your hand continued to slide down until it reached his navel. With more pressure, you pushed your hand further, palming at his growing erection. He let out a deep groan. 

You broke the kiss, “Feel good, baby?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond, kissing him again, he nodded against your mouth. His hands came up to your waist, pulling at the hem of your shirt. Separating from him, you let him pull your shirt over your head. He finally opened his eyes for what felt like the first time in hours and thanked the universe that you weren’t wearing a bra. He immediately slid his hands up to your boobs, squeezing and squishing them together. You pressed your palm harder over his cock and he moaned loudly as his head fell back against the armrest of the couch. 

“Let me take the stress away, baby. Just relax for me.” You began lifting his shirt off of him. He leaned forward and lifted his arms just enough to let you get it off of him. You pulled at the waistband of his sweats. He raised his hips as you dragged them off his body along with his boxers. His cock sprang free of its confines, his tip pink and leaking. Chan felt vulnerable, naked on the couch in front of you. It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him nude, but he felt oddly open. You could clearly see the stress and tiredness in him, and you were comforting him so nicely, taking care of him in his exhausted state. He wasn’t scared or nervous to be this vulnerable with you, but it was new. He had never been so bare in your presence. 

You looked down as you grasped his dick, squeezing your hand from the base to the tip. You swiped your thumb over his tip, spreading his precum.

“Ohh, y/n,” he struggled to speak. You silenced him with a peck to his lips. 

“Shhhh, Channie.” You continued to pepper kisses around his face as you stroked him slowly.

Chan’s body felt like jelly, he could barely keep his arms up to continue playing with your chest. The tension had been building in his body since that morning when he started work, the physical and emotional toll of his job weighing down on him harder than most days. His muscles tensed and relaxed at your movements. His body carried tension yet his mind was light, all he could focus on was the feeling of your lips on his cheek, his forehead, his nose, and the warm feeling growing in his belly. You looked down at Chan, his eyes were glossed over and glassy, looking up at you in adoration. 

“You’re okay, baby. You can relax now, I got you,” you cooed. Your other hand rose to cup his cheek, your fingertips scratching at his hairline. Chan couldn’t help the way his chest tightened, he felt his breathing pick up and his bottom lip began to quiver. He felt his nose sting as his eyes watered. All he could do was look up at you with tears in his eyes. Your thumb swiped at his cheek as a tear slid down his cheek. You picked up your pace, squeezing him tighter than before. His breaths began to come out in sobs, the tears continuing to stream down his cheeks. 

“Y/n,” he cried. He was overwhelmed. His heart felt like it was bursting out of his chest and his body was on fire. His hips were lifting off the couch, meeting your wrist as he thrust into your hand. He couldn’t remember why he was crying anymore. Everything that had piled up on him throughout the day was forgotten as you held him so tenderly. Still, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Let it out, Channie. You look so pretty when you cry, you know that?” you spoke against his mouth. Chan whimpered as you kissed him again. He could feel the salt of his tears mix in with saliva as your tongues met once again. 

“Y/n, I’m so close,” his voice cracked in between sniffles. He was so desperate to come, his cock pulsating in your palm. But he needed to wait for your permission, he owed it to you after you had taken such good care of him. 

“I know, baby. You’re almost there, just a little longer, okay?” This felt like torture, but Chan was putty in your hands. He could only trust you as you continued unraveling him. He felt your face pull away from him as you sank down his body, your hand didn’t stop stroking. Chan groaned as your mouth neared his throbbing tip. Your tongue stuck out to lick the precum that had leaked out. He hissed at the feeling of your wet tongue touching his skin. His eyes shut tight again, trying to compose himself. Your hand slowed down but didn’t stop, Chan moaned at the change of pace.

“Look at me, Channie,” you called up to him. His eyes shot open as you began sucking on his tip. His eyes still glimmered, his eyelashes sticking together from the tears. You released his tip with a pop making Chan’s eyes roll back. “You can come, baby,” you kissed his tip. Chan almost exploded right there. “Watch as you come in my mouth, Channie. I love you so much.” You stroked him harder at the base of his cock, taking the tip and then some into your mouth. Your tongue slid against the underside as you gently sucked. 

Tears pricked his eyes again, the pleasure was too much. He felt your hand reach for his, You intertwined your fingers, your hand giving his a squeeze. The heat in his belly overflowed. He chanted your name in a moan as he released in your mouth. You kept sucking as ropes of him cum filled your mouth. Chan’s hand gripped yours like a vice, like you were his lifeline. You swallowed once he finished, rising to give him a taste of himself as you kissed him. 

The smoke cleared in Chan’s brain. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down to lay against him. He reached over, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and setting it over the both of you. 

“Did that make you feel any better?” You asked. Chan’s heart tightened at the sincerity in your voice. He buried his head in your shoulder, turning to leave a chaste kiss on your neck.

“Yes, baby. You always take such good care of me.” 

Your hand rubbed his arm, soothing his body after the intensity of the night. 

“I love you, Channie,” you kissed the side of his head. “I’m always gonna take care of you.”

“I love you more, y/n. I love you so much.” His body finally relaxed as he felt your breaths align. He was okay. Slowly, you two drifted off to sleep.

A/N: Than you for reading this far! Feel free to send requests 🫶

#stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids chan smut #stray kids bang chan smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #skz bang chan smut #stray kids chan imagines #skz chan smut #skz chan x reader #christopher bang smut #christopher bang x reader #chris bang smut #chris bang x reader #literally cannot think of anymore gd tags

[andysorbit]

Chess, Not Checkers (M)

non idol Chan x fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: breeding kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mild spanking, fingering, oral sex (female receiving)

word count : 1k

"Mr. Bang... does this skirt make my butt look big?" You ask softly. You want his attention but he's scrolling on his phone.

"Hmm... yeah it kinda does I think... come here. I need a better look," he says as he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He sets his phone down beside him and gives you his undivided attention.

You walk over to him, "I don't think I like how I look in this," You say with a pout, "I'm gonna change."

"Well, hey... now wait a minute. You asked for my opinion so let me have a look and then we can talk about it... turn around for me," he says with a playful lilt of his voice.

You spin around and hope that he notices your thong as your skirt catches some air and raises a bit.

"Uh uh. Slower," he hums. You spin slower and he grips your hips once you've turned to face away from him.

"Yeah... I love this skirt," he mumbles more to himself.

"So my butt does look bigger in it?" You ask.

"Well... not bigger... I think it just sort of accentuates your ass in a really nice way... I'm inclined to lift this slutty little skirt up and have a look at what you've got hiding under here... can daddy take a peak?" Chan's voice is soft and so playful.

"Yes... please," You whisper.

"Okay then let's have a look," he hums as he raises the back of your skirt up to expose your bare cheeks, "Oh... aren't you as pretty as ever."

He gives your ass cheeks a slap before soothing the heated skin with soft rubs and squeezes, "Are you sure you wanna go out tonight? You can't tell your friends you've caught a cold or something?" he asks as his lips pepper kisses over your left cheek and then your right.

"Noooooo... Christopher, don't do this to me again," You plead weakly.

He chuckles and scoffs at you playfully, "Don't you call me Christopher. You only call me that when you're mad at me."

"I am mad at you... you won't just let me go... you're making this hard," You mutter.

Chan doesn't stop licking and biting at the skin on your ass, "And you're making me hard... come lean over the bed."

He stands up and you take his place; leaning over the bed, you lower your torso and rest on your forearms as you raise your ass up to meet him. He yanks your thong down to your thighs and gives your ass a slap.

"That's right, princess... face down, ass up," he praises you before tossing your phone onto the bed beside you, "Call your friends- right now and tell them you're probably gonna be late."

"Chris... please. I don't wanna be late. Come on," You beg.

Chan's fingers stroke against your folds, "You could still make it on time if you do as I say... I'll even drive you there so I know you'll be safe and on time but you're going to get on that phone and call that nosy friend of yours and you're gonna tell her that you're probably gonna be late... your only other option is to tell her that you won't be coming at all so what's it gonna be?"

"I have to tell her right now?" You ask as you feel yourself falling tame to his dominance.

"That's what I said... right now and while you do that... I'm gonna play with this needy little pussy," he purrs as his fingers dip into you and slowly pump in and out.

You reluctantly call your friend.

"Put it on speaker," Chan orders you.

You pray she doesn't answer but of course she does.

"Please don't tell me you're not coming!" she pleads.

"Oh, she's coming," Chan chuckles quietly.

"No, girl! I am! I promise I just... my makeup isn't... it's not coming out right. I uh... I dunno it's... just... fuck!" You say as carefully as you can. Chan's fingers press against your spot and you almost cry out.

"Don't stress yourself. Minimalism is always in, sis. Or just ditch the makeup. You already know you're gorgeous either way," she says.

"Ah... thank you," You mumble.

When you feel Chan's tongue replace his finger, you gasp, "Christopher Bang, would you stop it?" You plead desperately.

"What the hell is going on?" your friend asks quickly; the concern in her voice would be amusing if you weren't trying not to whimper into the phone.

Chan's tongue eases in and out of you and he positions you with your legs spread wider before sucking on your clit.

"No... he just fucking... he's touching my makeup again- Chris... please... please," You mumble.

"Well, girl, get it together and tell him to stop playing around. We're here so get a move on," she laughs.

"Yeah... of course... I'll be there soon. Bye," You breathe before hanging up.

You scream into the mattress.

"'Christopher Bang would you stop it?'" he mocks you teasingly, "That doesn't sound like 'please, daddy' to me... Not even close if I'm being totally honest... Fuck... I love eating this pussy from the back." He presses a kiss to your pulsing cunt

"Daddy, please... please! Fuck! Oh, fuck! Fuck!" You scream into the mattress and Chan slaps your ass. "Do you think I could ruin this hot little cunt before you go? How much can I break you before you leave?" he asks as he raises your ass up a little more. He doesn't pace himself at all and he slams into you.

"Daddy- fuck- it... fucking hurts," You choke out as you arch your back and push back to meet his hips.

"Yeah it fucking hurts but here you are pushing back on it and rutting yourself against me like a bitch in heat. You love it when I treat you like a little ragdoll... I'm gonna put a fucking baby in you. Gonna breed that dirty little pussy," he growls as his hips slam against you.

"I don't- wanna... fucking... g-go," You whimper.

"Oh no, sweetheart. You're going. You're gonna take this dick and then you're gonna take every drop of my cum and you're gonna keep it deep in that pussy... I'm gonna be with you- inside you- all fucking night," Chan says as he pulls you up to lean against the firmness of his chest.

"Please, daddy!" You cry out, "I- I can stay home! Please! Let me- let me... daddy, let me stay home... please... I wanna stay home with- with you, daddy!" You beg.

Chan shoves your face back into the mattress, "No... no. I'm gonna wear this little cunt out and every time you sit down, you're gonna think about me... you're gonna think about my cock and how good I'm making you feel and when you get home, I'm gonna wreck you all over again. Do you understand me?"

He knows you're not in any shape to answer him and he lands another slap to your ass just because he can and continues slamming into you.

Each thrust pulls a desperate cry from you, "Daddy," You muffle against the mattress as he pounds into you even harder.

"Yeah just keep that pretty ass in the air... daddy's so fucking close... fuck," he pants.

Your bodies are damp and his hips stutter before he finally releases inside you.

"There you go, love," he sighs as he pulls out and eases your thong back up.

"Daddy... I... I didn't cum... please," You whimper as you turn around to look at him from you spot on the bed.

Chan pulls you to your feet and pats your cheek softly,

"I know... that's why I said I was gonna wreck you again later... you thought you could tease me before you left and I'd be foaming at the mouth just dying for you to get back but no... I'm playing chess, not checkers, little girl. Now hurry up and finish getting ready so you're not late."

#neoculturecollectives #k-labels #kvanity #skz #stray kids #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #skz hard hours #stray kids smut #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids ambw #stray kids x plus sized reader #stray kids x black!reader #kpop ambw #bang chan hard hours #bang chan smut #bang chan x black!reader #chris bang smut

[thefantasyden]

Stray Kids reaction to you grabbing their dick (subtly) around people

Kind of exhibitionist themes. NSFW of course. Nothing too kinky.

Chris:

Ohhhh boy, he's so turned on, but he's also embarrassed because of how much it turns him on. Chris loves your confidence and boldness above all else, so he can't help but feel a little pride when your hands reach behind you to rest against his dick. He really did have pure intensions when he came up behind you for a hug while you were talking to people but his thoughts have definitely turned sinful and he'd be tugging you closer to him so that he could press his dick against your ass all under the guise of being a cute, clingy boyfriend. He'd probably be throbbing against you if someone commented on how cute you two were or how sweet he was to you because he fully intends to have you begging him for mercy when he finally gets you alone. I genuinely just think he would be SO turned on my any hidden dirty displays from you in public where he was the only one who could know what's happening. Call it subtle exhibitionism if you will, but he'd be hard as hell and whispering his dirty thoughts in your ear every time.

"If you want me to bend your pretty ass over the couch when we get home, you coulda just asked me."

Lee Know:

Grins like the Cheshire Cat. He would be SO proud. It's not exactly a secret that you're his personal slut but he just lives for the affirmation of you not being able to keep your needy hands off him. If you're hanging out with the older members when it happens and you subtly slid your hand from his thigh to his dick, he would immediately call you out on it to embarrass you because he knows you'd like it. He's only turned on further when you sass him in response, and he probably wouldn't wait long to be tugging you to a place where he could have you all to himself. He's a bit of an exhibitionist but I think he'd also be possessive, so prepare for him to be taunting you before he lets you touch him further. He'd make you tell him all about how you just couldn't keep your hands to yourself because you're always needy for him. He treats you so so well when he finally lets you have him, and he'd be praising you for being his desperate angel. To him, it would evolve be another form of intimacy unique to you, and it probably becomes a normal habit after a while for you to have your hand on his dick when you're just hanging out.

"Aw, look, my baby just can't keep their hands off me, huh? You're always so desperate."

Changbin:

He wouldn't even realise it was weird at first because you're always groping him, and he does the exact same to you. He's always gripping your ass or your thighs when you're in reach of him, so you gripping his dick when you were sitting at dinner wouldn't register for him until he feels your hand move up his length and when that happens, he's coughing to try and cover up his moan because holy hell is it hot in this place. He's encouraging it for sure, and I think he'd actually like it if one of the other members caught you. It'd probably be Jisung because he's your partner in chaos and he'd see your hand slipping under a blanket when you were relaxing with them, immediately asking if you two ever thought about anything else with a smirk and Changbin would just let out the silliest, excited laugh in response. He loves your hands on him, but he also always manages to get a giggle out of you in most sexual scenarios (which gets him even more riled up because he l o v e s hearing you laugh.)

"Have you SEEN my baby? You're lucky I'm controlling myself right now like a civilised man."

Hyunjin:

He'd be turned on and a little irritated because it almost always happens when you're at an event that you can't leave. You were always flirty with him, and that was perfectly normal and acceptable with people around, but you hugging him and sliding your hand down to grope at his already half hard length was something he really could not find an appropriate reaction to. His expression would almost give it away if he hadn't been whispering a warning to you. Never mind that having you with him and having the two of you being praised for looking so good together while he showed you off already had him counting the seconds until he could get his hands on you. His behaviour wouldn't change throughout the night, but his grip on you would be tighter, and he'd be quieter than usual. You would almost believe he was upset with you if it wasn't for the anamoured smile he couldn't stop whenever you were talking to someone. The second you're in a private spot, he's scolding you for making him feel so out of control.

"I really need you to behave until we get back to the room and I can have you whining under me, ok?"

Jisung:

Confused and needy. Hell, he hardly has time to be confused because they way his body reacts so strongly to you has him pleading in your ear for you to help him relieve a little pressure, your cupped hand resting over his dick after you came to bring him coffee in the studio. He's just glad Chris and Changbin are focused on what they're doing and can't spare any attention to his whining when he pulls you on to his lap so he can hide his face in your hair as he pants against your neck. He's just so sensitive to your touch, and he can't help it. Poor boy is trying so hard not to grip your thighs too hard or fidget too much. Usually, when he's desperate like that, he'd be so vocal, but that's impossible when the other two are so close by. He'd survive MAYBE 10 minutes TOPS of you sitting in his lap before he's trying to convince the boys that he feels sick (which they don't buy, but they don't feel like dealing with him) and he's dragging you back to the door. I think he's just so in love with you that he wants to have you in any way he can at all times.

"Shit... That feels so good baby. No no, please don't stop. I just want a little more."

Felix:

Depending on the day, I think he'd either be kind of cocky and into it, or he'd be bright red (but still into it!). Felix strikes me as someone who has a high sex drive when he feels a deep connection with someone and you just so happened to tend to his needs so well that he's ready to go whenever you show interest. You'd be sitting in the car coming home from something, and your hand would carefully drop to his lap, fingers barely stroking over his dick but he's getting hard regardless. He loves your light, ticklish touches, and his thoughts are spiralling to how they feel on his bare skin and how similar it feels when you trail kisses down his chest and, well, he needs you. He covers your hand with his and presses it down so he gets a little bit of relief but is also stopping you from torturing him any further. Once you're home, he'd playfully call you dirty between kisses and it would entertwine with 'I love you's and whispers of how beautiful you are and how badly he needs to have you touch him again. Lots of messy kisses and giggles before you even make it to the bed.

"You don't even know how hard that was! How am I supposed to act normal when you've got that innocent face and you're touching me like that?"

Seungmin:

I don't care if you're team Dom Minnie or Sub Minnie, I think he'd be FLUSTERED. Seung doesn't strike me as an exhibitionist at all, and he'd react so instantaneously to your touch that it has him aggressively flushed and confused. He'd take a second to respond when he first felt your hand on him, but he'd push it away once it registers, scowling and whisper-yelling that you can't do that when people are around! He doesn't mean to sound harsh, he's just so embarrassed (and maybe also really turned on) that the words come out more aggressively than he intended. Once he's calmed down, though, he'd scoot closer to you and interlock your fingers, gently kissing your cheek and apologising for the way his scolding came out. He loves that you want him, he just needs it to be at a time when he can respond freely. Don't worry though, because he'll make it up to you when you're alone. He'd be kneeling between your legs as quickly as possible, kisses littering your thighs as his hands pushed them apart.

"Let me make show you how much I need you, ok? I wanna taste you."

I.N

Just like Lixxie, he depends on the day. If it's a really public setting, he's embarrassed and moving away from you BUT if it's a small group with maybe one or two of the other members, he's pulling you closer to him and bucking his hips against your hand, encouraging you to continue. On rare occasions like movie nights where you're hidden under fluffy blankets, he wants you to jerk him off. He's a young man, he has a lot of dirty thoughts. It's definitely not his fault! He'd taunt you with whispers of how good he'll make you feel later and how hard he is, all for you and god, when he finally feels your hand wrap around him properly, he has to squeeze his eyes shut and pray that nobody notices his panting or the way he seemingly can't get comfortable all of a sudden. He doesn't like to finish like that, though, and he doesn't think about what anyone says when he drags you to his room. All he cares about is getting his lips on yours, hands groping at whatever he touches first as he cages you against his mattress.

"I know you love seeing me like this. I'm so hard for you. I wanna fuck you so fucking bad."

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #felix smut #minho smut #chan smut #chris bang smut #hyunjin smut #han smut #jisung smut #seungmin smut #i.n smut #jeongin smut #thefantasyden

[torialefay]

🪐 The Night He Took You 🦂

A part 2 to Venus in Scorpio (requested)

bangchan as your boyfriend series!!! 🔞 (astrology based)

✨bangchan x reader (f); SMUT SMUT SMUT

✨request: “Would you possibly do some more for you n channie going further ? I feel like with his need to be in you, any way he can, he would absolutely cum in you....”

✨wc: 5.3k (i got so carried away lol)

✨***if you haven’t read part one, PLEASE do so before reading this! it sets the scene and explains from the astrology aspect. this is only a follow up and will not contain any more natal chart readings. head to my masterlist here to read!!!

✨i promise the rest of the series won’t be entirelyyyy smut. but it’ll definitely be there (hehe sorry, but also not really. we’re all sluts over here reading it anyways.)

✨ warning: this turned into the absolute sluttiest, smuttiest thing i've ever written. minors DNI!! cursing.

• You looked up longingly at your boyfriend who was situated just over top of you. You were laid on your bed, back down, with him using your lower body as support and his arms extended to hover himself above you. You reached your hand up to caress his cheek and pull his face down closer to yours. You needed his kiss just as much as any other part of him.

• Chan rutted his hips into yours, giving some much needed pressure to his hardening dick which was still fully clothed. It had been almost 6 months. 6 months of knowing you. 5 months of pining over you. 4 months of doing everything in his power not to give up his own self to obsess over you. 3 months of chasing after you. 2 months of dates. And finally 1 month of getting to call himself your boyfriend. And soulmate too, he was sure of it.

• And here he was, 6 months later, with his dream girl underneath him. 'Fuck' he thought, 'how did I ever make it here?' He stared at your lips. How beautiful and pink they were, slightly parted for him. Your big eyes, full of innocence and pure wonder, looking at him with so much conviction.

• So many nights he spent fighting off his instinct to rip into you. He was just a man after all. But he knew he needed to do it another way. He knew he needed to wait for the right time. You were the right girl, so it only made sense. Tonight would be the night that he finally would pledge himself to you. All of himself. It wasn't so much that he was excited about it as it was that he NEEDED it. He couldn't stand his body living in 1 inch of separation from yours. He was ready to throw himself all into you. To devote his heart and soul to you forever. With every breath he had, with every ounce of his being, he needed to adhere himself to you. He needed to live inside of you, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. He needed to know that wherever he was, you would be there as a part of him. No matter how far away. And vice versa. Tonight, with his mind dipped in the thought of you becoming only his… tonight, he would finally take you.

• Still towering over you, he leaned down into your kiss. His mind went blank, focusing only on the movement of your mouth. How right it felt over top of his. He wanted to take his time with you. He wanted to take it slow. But God, you made it hard.

• Slowly, he worked one hand up your body and neck, around to the side of your head. He ran his fingers into your hair, resting his thumb at the very edge of your jaw. Now having full control of your head, he turned it to the side, allowing himself access to push his mouth deeper into the kiss. He licked at the split between your lips slowly, silently begging you to open them for him. He smiled into the kiss when he was met with no resistance. His tongue quickly found its way to yours, sliding across, up and down, however you would allow it. He went deeper and deeper until he was sure he would fall in. Falling into you surely wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. ‘In fact’, he thought, ‘I couldn’t ask for anything better.’ Getting completely, hopelessly, entirely lost in you is all he could ever want. To become one with his baby.

• Chan was ready to throw himself fully into you. “Can I?” he asked, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You didn’t respond, just put your hand over his and slowly had him pull up on the top until it was over and off your head. His heart melted at you guiding him to what you wanted. You never let go of the contact, wanting as much heat of his skin as you could get. You lead his hand slowly back down, dragging along your face and down to your neck, before slowly resting over top of one breast. You moved your hand around over top of his to signal for him to begin.

• ‘Fucking hell,’ Chan thought, feeling how soft your were under his touch. He felt the contrast of your skin to the hard raise of your nipple. He couldn’t believe that he had done that to you. That all of your beauty was exclusively for him. He did that to you. He’d be the last one to ever do that to you. ‘My perfect baby.”

• He slowly began to trace small circles around one nipple, closely examining your reaction. He had to be perfect for you. Seeing you smile and let out a breath, his ego built a little. He slowly ducked his head down towards your other breast. Mimicking what he’d done with the other, he wondered how you would respond to his tongue. He held eye contact with you, waiting for any sign of hesitancy. Instead, he was met with your hand tousling into his curls, lightly stroking along his crown. Chan almost exploded at the feeling of you touching him so gently, with so much love and care. He refused to believe that all of this was his. This was his life now, and it was utterly perfect.

• His tongue drew small circles around one nipple while his hand gently worked around the other one. He made sure to go lightly, not to tease you but to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed and wanted to stop. Holding onto your gaze, he watched as you slowly writhed under the tiny strokes he was making on you. You squirmed as the pressure started to build, making you throb below and grow wetter and wetter.

• Chan couldn’t contain himself at the sight. Something almost animalistic came over him. What it was, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted to completely demolish you. ‘Mine. ALL fucking mine,’ he thought. At that, he bit down hard on your nipple, sending a shock of pleasure and pain that you’d never felt before. He started to flick his tongue quickly around it, and you felt a warm sensation come over you. You looked down at Chan to see that he was still staring at your face waiting to see your reaction. Waiting to see what he did to you. You gripped onto his hair tighter, pushing him down onto you. You needed to feel him as close as possible. He got the hint and latched on, biting down with everything he had. For the first time, he felt like he was consuming you. Actually consuming you. He felt his dick harden as he thought about your body giving in totally to him. How good you took him and let him do whatever he pleased. It was almost as if your body was his own, so he could do whatever he wanted. And fuck did that make him want more.

• He moved to the other breast, continuing his rounds. He was determined to mark your whole body. To bite into you every chance he got. He would mark you until you couldn’t look at one single part of your body without remembering whose you were. His tongue flicked back and forth aggressively, like he was starved and would take whatever you could give him.

• “Chrisss,” you moaned out, becoming almost unbearably aware of the wetness heightening between your legs. You were on fire for his touch anywhere you could get it, yes. But you needed so much more. “Chris please,” you writhed underneath him.

• His name. Fuck, why did you have to say his name. “Baby,” he breathed out, his hot breath again your nipple, making you shiver. “Fuck, say it again,” he growled. You’d never seen this side of him. “Please God, fucking say it again,” almost an anger was in in voice.

• “Chris, baby, please. I need more of you. I need all of you.”

• That’s all it took. He was ballistic now. In one pulse, he was pulled up to your eye level. He looked at your face for a fleeting moment, admiring how beautiful you looked for him. Only fleeting though. He roughly took your face in his hands, almost smothering. “You’re going to look at me with those pretty eyes for the rest of the night, understand? You are mine, y/n. All fucking mine. Tonight, I will be the only thing on your mind. Focus on me. You got it?” he huffily snarled out.

• “Yes, Chris. Make me yours. Now. Please. I’m yours, I’m all yours.” You strained, trying to get the last part out. You could hardly breathe, blood rushing to your head. Your eyes almost rolled back. Chan picked up on how you responded to his new-found rage, he wondered how much further he could take you. He didn’t mean to feel that way- rage. It just washed over him. Not because he was upset with you, but because he was upset with the situation. He was overtaken with a type of mania because it was so fucking unfair that whatever he did, he could never get close to you. He could lay on top of you, have his dick inside of you, connect his tongue to yours, consume you from the inside out and it still wouldn’t be enough. You were his in this life, and that was good. But he needed you to be his in the next life, and the one after. He needed to own your soul.

• He quickly looked down at you, lustful as he’d ever been. His hands moved quickly from your jaw down to your throat. He squeezed down. Hard. Harder. Hardest. You turned red, then pale. This was the most beautiful he’s ever seen you. He hovered his face over yours in a smirk, watching as you gasped for air. He released one hand slightly, alleviating only a tiny amount of pressure before pressing right back in. Your head had fallen backwards, so he moved his own to be directly looking into you. “Breathe out. Breathe into me,” he instructed.

• A look of power came over his face as he couldn’t stop smiling at you. The way that you were choked up for him. The way that he needed you to give the last of your breath to him. “Open and give me a breath,” he whispered.

• You pursed your lips slightly and puffed out everything you could. You turned blue and felt the lack of oxygen in your brain. Your vision went blurry. The last thing you saw was Chan’s mouth hovering just over yours, taking a deep inhale through his mouth, like he had been craving it this whole time. He closed his mouth as to not let any of the air back out and took a deep swallow.

• His grip quickly loosened, and you leaned up off the bed gasping for air. “My perfect girl,” he whispered into your ear, nipping at it softly while you caught your breath. The sudden rush of air into your lungs mixing with the 180 of Chan’s actions sent you spiraling.

• He took your neck in his hands again, not squeezing this time but gaining control of your head. He tilted it back slightly and leaned down so he was only an inch from your face. “Open up baby. You’ve got to breathe me in too.” You parted your mouth, as instructed, not able to open up all the way. “Just like that,” he purred, satisfied. “You’re gonna have a part of my soul too now, okay?”

• You nodded in response, keeping your mouth parted open for him. “In through your mouth,” he instructed. His lips parted slightly, blowing a cool breath into your lips. His breath turned hot once he had strained to get out all he could. He watched as you took in all you could, gulping when you knew you’d reached the end. He sealed your mouth with a kiss so full of passion you hoped it would never stop. “You and I until the very end, yeah?”

• “And beyond,” you smiled up at him, batting your eyes slowly opened and closed. He reciprocated the smile, eyes now full of love instead of lust.

• He whispered quietly, almost as if he didn’t know if he wanted you to hear it or not. “The heart of my heart. The breath of my breath. The spirit of my spirit. I could never love anything more than you in this moment.”

• He moved down on your body, trailing kisses until he reached your underwear line. He took his time pulling your bottoms and underwear off, continuing his trail of kisses down your legs. Slowly he kissed, as if each touch to your skin was the first time. Once he reached the end of your leg, he removed the clothes completely. He quickly pulled his top off revealing his beautiful, toned torso and chest. You could see his traps sticking up from behind his back. That was your favorite part of him. Those broad shoulders always took your breath away.

• “You are so perfect, Channie,” you muttered just loud enough for him to hear. A blush spread across his face as he looked down. He got so shy every time you complimented him. He always insisted you didn’t, but you knew he secretly loved it.

• He continued his path to taking off his clothes, quickly pulling his boxers and shorts off while still on his knees in between you. Once they were off, he looked down to you, admiring every last inch. Your face had to have gone red, you thought, when you saw him look down at the area he had set out to discover, biting his lip and grabbing hard onto your inner thighs. He gripped tightly and massaged them back and forth, back and forth, looking intently the entire time. His hands let loose and he slowly dragged them up your thighs and around the sides and top of your vagina- ever so slowly.

• ‘Jesus Christ this girl of mine,’ Chan thought. He felt saliva build up in his mouth. ‘This is all yours Chris. Fuck, this is all yours,” he massaged you. He was determined to give you the most perfect, most beautiful, soul-bonding night of your life. Was it for him too? Of course. But now, you were a part of him. Pleasing you was pleasing himself.

• Once he was satisfied with rubbing his hands into you, he slowly lowered himself to put half of his body onto you. One leg to the side of your thigh and one arm resting to the side of your torso. His heart swelled as he saw you bring your hand up to hold it on his chest right above his heart.

• Chan leaned down to give you a soft kiss. “Wanted to be closer to you,” he sheepishly smiled. You smiled back.

• “Love you, Channie,” you smiled up at him, pushing your hand harder into his chest to feel his heartbeat.

• “I love you too.” He leaned his head to the side to open his mouth and plant sloppy kisses against your neck. He bit down just enough to leave a mark, and he knew it. “Let me show you how much I love you,” he mumbled into your hair.

• In one swift motion, he snaked his hand back down your body until he was just covering the top of your cunt. Finally, he started to rub, leisurely taking his time. He was so tauntingly slow, you wiggled underneath him yet again. You removed your hand from his chest and pushed it down to rest on top of his. You pushed on his hand, agging him on to go faster.

• “No, princess. Let me take my time,” he whispered into your ear with a hot breath. He was driving you fucking crazy. The way he felt slowly made you feel warm and fuzzy. It also made you feel like you were going to explode any second if you didn’t get more. You started reflexively bucking your hips up into his hand. You didn’t even realize you were doing it.

• ‘Holy shit,’ Chan thought, smiling into your hair. Feeling you rut into his hand made all of the blood in his body rush to his dick. He slipped two fingers into the middle of you, covering his them to get them lubricated. ‘So fucking wet, Jesus Christ,’ he almost threw his head back thinking about how he was the one who made you get so worked up. His fingers started to trace around your clit slowly. He felt your breathing stop, and he lifted himself slightly to get a good look at your face. You had your head leaned back, eyes closed tight, mouth dropped open. ‘This is just the fucking start baby, just you wait,’ he thought to himself, smiling down at you. ‘I’m gonna take you so fucking good.’ He sped his fingers up, gaging how you would react. Your breathing got heavier and heavier. Your hands balled up into fists around the bed sheets. ‘Look at you,’ he thought. ‘So good for me so easily.’

• The faster he went, the harder it was for you to keep control. Your head started spinning and you felt a throbbing throughout your whole body. You threw yourself into Chan’s chest, trying to bury yourself away. It felt too good. Chan instinctively pushed his chest down into you, pushing you deep into the bed and shielding you from the outside word. From inside the cage he made for you with his body, all you could hear was his heart beat continuing to quicken, and all you could feel was his quick fingers working you to your breaking point.

• “Channie… Channie… Please baby, GOD!” you yelled out, screaming into his chest.

• He let out a deep growl. “Mmmmm,” he grunted out. “Do you want to come baby?”

• “Yes, yes! Oh God yes. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop!” He kept the pace up with his fingers, about to send you over the edge. His face ducked down to nuzzle into your neck, planting kisses and bites on top of the ones he’d already left.

• You were getting so close. Each flick of his fingers felt like it would be the one to push you over the edge. You felt the familiar feeling of your legs starting to curl up. “FUCK. Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you kept repeating to him.

• “Yeah baby?” Chan brought his forehead to yours, one hand around your neck, now starting to press down. “I want to hear you fucking scream for me y/n. Scream for me. Scream into me. You’re not doing anything else without me anymore, do you understand? You better fucking give it all to me right fucking now. Scream for me!!!”

• Your whole body let go like fireworks were exploding inside of you. “CHRIS. CHRIS. Holy fuck. CHRIS,” you started to cry out. The whole time, Chan’s face was pressed up right next to yours, lips open yet again, like he was trying to devour every last word you screamed out.

• “Aaaahh,” he growled at you, going harder at your clit. You body went catatonic, shaking and unable to move. He just held you down in that position and swatted at your hands from trying to stop him.

• “Chris I can’t do it anymore!” you screamed out to him. Tears were streaming from your eyes.

• “You can and you will. You are going to cum for me again, do you hear me? You are going to give me the last fucking drop of energy in your body. You are MINE, y/n. Start acting like it and give yourself up.”

• Your entire face was covered in tears at this point. It felt so good, but it was just all so much. His touch was unrelenting, and every thrash of your body was met with Chan’s own pinning you down. He wasn’t going to let off one bit until you had another orgasm for him.

• You felt it slowly creeping up again in your stomach. This time even warmer than before. From the look on Chan’s face, he knew it too.

• “That’s right pretty girl, give it to me. It’s okay, you can let it out. Cry if you have to, but let it out for me,” he coached you. He wasn’t lying. You were a fucking mess, drool everywhere, hands red from pulling at anything you could, and laying in a puddle of your own tears.

• You felt it again. There it goes, a shockwave starting in your clit. It shocked down to your toes and suddenly climbed it’s way up each leg. Chan let out a small chuckle when he felt your body convulse underneath his. You lost all control of your body. Not a single thought was left in your mind. You didn’t know anything anymore. You couldn’t utter a single word, only hold your breath and ride it out. It felt too fucking good. You cried and cried and cried until your body finally relaxed.

• Finally being able to catch your breath, you couldn’t stop your tears from coming out. One after another, they kept tumbling off your face. You were too overstimulated and too exposed to do anything else. You felt like a part of you had been released out of your body.

• “Shhhh, baby, shhhh,” Chan pet your head as he held it in place with one hand, kissing your forehead. “I’m here, I’m here. It’s okay,” he cooed. He continued kissing your forehead and petting your head, but the tears didn’t stop.

• Normally Chan would be concerned. But this time, it only agged him on. His baby was crying for him. His dick grew harder and harder at the sight of how beautiful you looked crying. The most raw emotions on total display for him to watch. He was in awe. This is what it was like to have a love. To have someone that you would give everything to. And he did mean everything.

• You were trying to compose yourself. Trying to contain your cries. “Channie, I- I love you,” you finally got out in a quiet tone.

• “I love you too baby. That’s why I have to do this.” You looked into his eyes as he slowly lined himself up at your entrance and started pushing into you. He went so slowly, it was like he was waiting for you to give him a sign. This new feeling wasn’t like the last- no. With him on your clit, it felt like love in its most lustful form. But this, this feeling of him being inside of you was way more than lust. It had to be in its own category. ‘This’, you thought, ‘is love in its most unadulterated, most lavish, and most whole form.’

• Chan couldn’t believe that he was finally fucking you. Scratch that, he wasn’t fucking you. He was making love to you in its most pure structure. He felt how tight you were as he slowly pulled himself in and out of you. He studied your face for any change in expression. You still had a few tears coming out, yes, but the look on your face seemed to have changed. Were you smiling?

• “Feels good, yeah princess?” He whispered against your neck while pushing himself deeper and deeper with each stroke.

• “Yes Channie. You feel so good. I feel so… full,” you breathed out, a big smile on your face with the occasional tear streaming down. These weren’t tears of overstimulation anymore, Chan realized. They were tears of love. And that got him more than anything this entire night.

• Chan put his whole body on top of you, squeezing you down into the mattress and resting his head right on top of yours, nose to nose and mouth lingering just above yours.

• “I want you to look at me baby,” he started, eyes full of passion. “I want you to look at me until we’re done, okay? Keep those big, beautiful eyes on me. I fucking love you more than anything in this world, y/n. You’re all mine now. No one else’s. I will love you and I will be with you in your very core until the day you die, don’t ever forget that.” His words grew harsher as he started thrusting into you harder.

• “My beautiful girl, why are you crying?” He wiped at a tear and kissed over your cheek, never letting up on his speed.

• “I just- I really fucking love you Channie. I fucking love you and I love the way you feel and I love you in your body, mind, and spirit. And god, I just fucking love adore you,” you cried out with a sense of defeat in your voice.

• A nerve struck Chan with that one. He could feel his whole body start to turn hot as he began to thrust even harder. “I fucking love you too baby. With everything in me. I’m gonna show it to you. I’m gonna cum inside you, yeah?” He picked up the pace even more- faster, harder. You remained with your eyes on his the whole time.

• “You’re gonna be good for me and let me use you? Let me breed you however the fuck I want? Let me go again and again until I put a baby inside you?” He clasped his hands into a fist above your head, holding his forearms tight around the sides of your head to anchor you in place below him. He was going as hard as he possibly could. You’d never seen him in this state before. His eyes were staring into you, hungry for more than just your body, but for your entire being. He was going to absolutely wreck you before it was over with, but God it felt so good. You felt so full, and you started to get hit in just the right spot inside. Over and over, he kept hitting it. So deep, you thought you were going to scream.

• “Yes, yes. Breed me. Do whatever you want. I will be a good girl for you. I will give you everything you want,” you roughly replied. You started to move your hips up with every thrust he gave, as if he could get even the slightest bit deeper inside you. You felt it though, and he did too.

• “You ARE a good girl for me, aren’t you baby? Because you were MADE for me. Say it. Say you were made for me,” he yelled, still piercing straight into you.

• “I was made for you, Channie!” you panted, about to lose your shit. If he kept this up, you were going to cum again. He felt too good. Every inch made you lose your breath.

• You watched as Chan put his mouth right on top of yours, not for a kiss, but just as a resting point. You thought you felt a tear drop down onto your face. You pulled your head back just the slightest to get a better look at him. Sure enough, he was crying. Silently albeit, but crying nonetheless. You felt him lock his strong arms around your head even tighter, gripping onto your hair now to stabilize himself as he reached his peak of hard, sloppy thrusts. He was all but throwing himself into you.

• “Who do you belong to?!” He cried out. “WHO DO YOU BELONG TO?”

• “You!” was all you could muster back.

• “And who do I belong to?”

• “Me!! You’re mine, you’re all fucking mine, Christopher. Fucking give it to me as hard as you can goddamn it!” By this point, the tears were there to stay. This was your man in his simplest form. Just a beautifully aching soul who wanted to have someone to belong to.

• “This is what I’ve finally waited for.” Chan slammed into you, tears now streaming in waves down his face. You rolled your hips into his at an even faster pace, needing to explode all over him. And needing him to explode inside of you. “I waited for you for so fucking long.” He almost choked on his own words, crying out while saying them. “And finally I got my prize. You, my beautiful girl.” Deeper thrust. “We will never be alone again.” Deeper thrust and an even deeper cry. “Together forever okay? Until my last breath I will fucking love you.” Deeper thrust, sobs coming uncontrollably. He continued to pound into you as you cried out.

• “I’m cumming, baby, I’m cumming!” you screamed, pulling his face to latch his lips onto yours. You heard him scream into your mouth as you twitched all around him. You suddenly felt full up to the top of your head. This is the only thing you would ever need again. You wrapped your legs tightly around his torso, pulling him closer and rubbing yourself up and down on him to ride out your high.

• “Wrap your legs tight baby, I’m going to cum in you right fucking now. You better- FUCK,” he screamed into you as he felt you squeeze down onto him with your walls and with your legs. “You better take all of this fucking cum and hold it in there. You are going to HOLD IT IN. Looking so fucking pretty with my baby in you. Take it baby, FUCKING TAKE IT,” he yelled with a loud moan. He thrust as hard as he possible could, and yelled out all kinda of profanities when you felt him twitch inside of you, letting every last drop of cum out. You stayed flush against him with your legs wrapped around, writhing to ride him up and down to make sure he could ride out his high.

• “Fuck baby, fuck!” He screamed, trying to pull away from you, but you had him locked in. You kept going and going until he got his payback. Now HE was overstimulated. Crying again, you couldn’t help but have a grin on your face. Crying all for you. What a fucking beautiful man.

• Once his tears stopped and his breathing calmed a bit, you slowly stopped your moving up and down. You decided to keep him inside though, your legs still dangling around his sides.

• “Let’s stay like this for a minute, yeah?” Chan panted into your hair.

• You just smiled up into him, head smothered up to the side of his neck. Your heart was swollen to 10x its normal size.

• “You are so good for me,” he said after a few moments, finally looking down to kiss your forehead. “You know what this means?” He giggled down at you with the cheesiest grin on his face.

• “What’s that?” you looked up to his eyes. They were the prettiest shade of brown you had ever seen. You still felt so warm, so full, with his cock still living inside of you.

• “We are tied together forever now. Which means I get to haunt the shit out of you in every lifetime after this,” he laughed, squeaking a little at how funny he thought he was. There was your goofy boyfriend again. ‘Yeah, I could be content with this life,’ you thought.

#bangchan smut #skz smut #chris bang smut #bangchan imagines #bangchan stray kids #bangchan scenarios #bangchan fluff #christopher bang #bangchan #bang chan #chris bang #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #skz imagines #skz x reader #bangchan angst #bang chris #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #bangchan skz #bangchan hard thoughts #bangchan one shots

[sluttywonwoo]

hiii bestie!! happy 12k 💖 literally in awe of you every single day ✨

thinking a lot about how christopher would sound saying “you’re soaked. let me get you a towel”

mwah bestie

he’s been teasing you since noon.

you had to be up bright and early for a day of errands but as soon you were out the door your boyfriend couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself.

“are you sure we can’t stay in today?” he’d asked, slipping and arm around your waist and unsubtly copping a feel as you walked down the pavement to the car together.

“most of this stuff is for you, chris. you know it’ll never get done if we don’t do it now.”

he groaned. “ugh, fine. but i’m going to complain the whole time.”

he actually hadn’t complained the whole time. he touched you the whole time, though.

it wasn’t inappropriate touching— not really. it was little things like keeping his hand on the small of your back, sliding his hand into your back pocket, standing shoulder to shoulder in line, okay and maybe a little bit of inappropriate touching in the car in between stops… he’d shove his hand down the front of your shorts for a couple of seconds at a time, just to fuck with you.

but now you’re back home.

he corners you as soon as the opportunity presents itself, and drags you to the bedroom by the wrist.

you follow eagerly and throw yourself onto the mattress before he gets the chance to. by now, you’re just as desperate as he is. all of his dirty comments and fleeting touches throughout the day have turned you into a version of yourself you don’t recognize. a very feral version of yourself.

chan’s quick to unbutton and unzip your shorts, pulling them off with your underwear in one go.

“oh baby,” he sighs, not even bothering to mask the wicked smirk that stretches across his face. “you’re soaked. let me get you a towel, yeah?”

you’re embarrassed even though you shouldn’t be. it’s his fault.

“chris!” you whine.

“you’re making such a mess, is all. i mean, should clean you up with something, right? that’s what good boyfriends do. would you rather me use my tongue instead?”

you whine again, incomprehensible this time.

“i’m going to take that as a yes.”

12k celebration

#answered #emily 🌸 #sluttywonwoo’s 12k #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #christopher bang smut #chris bang smut

[citysweet]

一 sniffing chris' pits

♡ HEAR ME OUT IK IT SOUNDS WEIRD BUT LISTEN also cause every one of my friends that have ever been in a relationship say their boyfriends "musk" smells good so

♡ wc 382

ok so he just came back from practice and you've been waiting for him after an entire day of just wanting to be held by him.

he wasn't extremely sweaty, but you could feel the thin layer on his skin when you buried your face into his neck and your arms wrapped around him.

you inhale deeply and close your eyes when you feel his hands on your waist. "babygirl wait, i'm all sweaty." he says with a laugh, but you bury your face further. "don't care, missed you."

you mummer and he picks you up. you legs wrap around his waist as he leads you two to the couch, sitting down. "i missed you more princess, but i should go shower." he says and you pull your face from his neck, looking up at him.

you shake your head, "it's fine, you smell good." to which he laughs at, "good?" you giggle and nod, lifting your hands to pull the black beanie off his head. you run your fingers through his slightly damp hair, admiring his features.

"whatever you say angel." you smile and gently push him down onto his back. your smaller frame lays on top of his and your head lays on his chest, softly smiling up at him. he brushes his hand over your hair, his eyes completely filled with love.

you scoot down his body and slightly to the left, nuzzling into the small space between his arm and his waist. your nose buried into his armpit when you breath in. he laughs again, "baby what are you doing?" he sits up slightly to look down at you.

you don't answer, breathing in his warm scent. you slither your arms under his back, clinging onto him. your voice comes out muffled when you answer, "nothing, stop moving." he gives in and lets you smell him, silently wondering why you enjoyed it so much.

he doesn't question you though, whatever makes his girl happy. once you've pulled away, he smiles down at you. "you done?" you laugh, nuzzling into his chest with a nod. "can we go shower now?"

"mhm." he picks you back up and carry's you to the bathroom.

then you two had a lovely shower, spent cleaning each other off. or getting sweatier, who knows?

© citysweet 5:35 092223

一 please tell me someone gets it the way i do

#一 citysweet's works #someone please get where i'm coming from #bang chan smut #you guys hear me out #skz smut #bang chan #chan smut #chris bang smut #chris smut #chris and his clean shaven pits omfg #bang chan fluff #chan fluff #chris fluff #skz fluff #stray kids #stray kids fluff #chris bang fluff #一 nyx's pink era