Omg??? OMG??? You’re One Of My Favorite Smut Writers On Here So I’m Absolutely SHOOK That You’ve

heyheyheyhey green! how are you? how’s summer going?

i noticed you haven’t been very active recently and i just wanted to know if you’re doing okay

- 🦨

Hi 🦨!

Sorry I haven’t been so active, I’m going through a miserable case of writer’s block :( I’m trying to write a little bit every day anyway so that I don’t just completely abandon all my projects but it’s been very rough.

On a more positive note, I’ve recently joined the P1Harmony fandom so I added that to the list of groups I’m willing to write about so hopefully writing about something other than SKZ will help with my creativity!

Anyway, my summer has been spent on YouTube for the most part lol BUT I just went to Pride for the first time last weekend which was pretty fun! Walked in in true queer fashion: arguing with my ex girlfriend 💀

How are you? How’s your summer going?

⨳ ❛𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

❛ In which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ) 2.1k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Don’t mind me constantly changing the layouts of my published works, I’m just extremely indecisive, sorry! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression, reader has fibromyalgia, constant mentions of being in pain, love-making, cussing, lots of angst, MDNI.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

⌗ O2┆ 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩

The sun shone generously as you strolled toward the end of your street, where your father's shop awaited. Its golden rays caressed your skin, adding a warm glow to this idyllic summer day. From a distance, you could see groups of friends and families spilling into the store, their animated conversations and broad smiles filling you with a sense of joy for them.

Despite your father’s frequent declarations that the shop's success was due to your own hard work, you found yourself at odds with his sentiment. The moment the entrance bells chimed their familiar greeting and you stepped inside, the atmosphere enveloped you like a refreshing breeze. The low murmur of customers mingled with the soft strains of background music, creating an ambiance that could only be attributed to the man whose dream it truly was.

Inside the shop, the air was cool compared to the summer warmth outside, but it did nothing to deter you from lingering by the side, marveling at the fruits of such a laborious dream. Dozens of plastic and wooden crates, brimming with a harmonious blend of vintage and contemporary vinyl records, were artfully arranged atop tables scattered throughout the store. These crates formed narrow, intimate aisles through which customers wove, searching for the perfect melody to match their mood.

The walls were adorned with posters of your father's beloved artists—rock legends from across the globe like Queen, AC/DC, ONE OK ROCK, and Day6, among others. Between these vibrant tributes, the empty spaces were filled with strands of fairy lights, their soft glow casting a warm, inviting radiance over the shop. This delicate lighting provided both charm and illumination to the otherwise windowless interior.

In truth, your father had transformed what was once a forsaken building, shrouded in the whispers of childhood ghost stories, into a uniquely enchanting haven. It was a space where one could easily retreat from the world, losing themselves amidst the music and the magic he had created.

After a few moments of searching, you finally spotted your father at the back of the shop, surrounded by a small group of men who appeared to be his contemporaries. They were engrossed in lively conversation, their laughter ringing out with genuine warmth and camaraderie. A surge of intense pride swelled in your chest, and a broad, uncontainable smile spread across your face as you watched him effortlessly shine in his element—a sight you had not been fortunate enough to witness until now.

The moment his gaze found yours, his entire demeanor transformed, lighting up with a joyful recognition. He gestured for you to join him, his movement inadvertently interrupting his animated conversation and drawing the attention of his companions to you. You couldn’t help but imagine he was regaling them with stories about you, a proud habit he had maintained since your childhood. Regardless of your recent achievements or lack thereof, he always found a way to weave your name into every conversation, eager to boast about his pride in you.

Your smile remained unwavering as you finally reached him, leaning against a table brimming with crates to momentarily rest, subtly masking your fatigue after offering polite bows to everyone. “Hello!” you greeted warmly.

“This is my daughter, Y/N, the one I’m always bragging about!” your father announced with evident pride.

Whether or not the men were aware of your profession, they masked their surprise with courteous bows in response to your father’s enthusiastic introduction. Despite the slight awkwardness you felt, your father remained blissfully oblivious, continuing to chat animatedly with his friends. He swiftly instructed you to stand behind the cashier as he wrapped up his conversation. You nodded dutifully, offering one final, graceful bow to the customers before following his directions.

Managing the checkout for the customers as they finalized their vinyl purchases proved to be surprisingly effortless, though they scarcely acknowledged you despite your efforts to radiate warmth and friendliness. The contrast between your public persona as Noctara and your everyday self was both amusing and stark, a reminder of how seldom you experienced the luxury of simply being yourself. It was intriguing to note how little recognition you garnered from those purchasing your own records.

Following Manager Jiho’s advice, you had deliberately dressed incognito. It was a rare treat to slip into your gray sweatpants, with a frayed hole at the knee that you stubbornly refused to discard, paired with a plain black crop top and white sneakers. You had exchanged your usual contact lenses for a pair of delicate, thin-framed glasses and gathered your hair into a casually messy high ponytail, accented by a red bandana tied in a small bow atop your head. A face mask completed your disguise, obscuring half of your face. Even with this modest ensemble, the thought of officially meeting these fans crossed your mind, though the idea of photos circulating online revealing your whereabouts was a chilling deterrent.

As the rush hour dwindled and the number of customers was reduced to a few stragglers, your father finally joined you behind the counter. He draped a warm, appreciative arm over your shoulders, his gratitude evident. You waved off his thanks with a soft smile, feeling a sense of contentment as the rhythmic tasks of the day provided a rare moment of tranquility for your weary mind.

As you wearily shifted from one foot to the other, your father gestured towards a tall stool tucked away beneath the counter. With a sigh of relief, you pulled it out and sank onto its comforting seat. The silence between you both was imbued with a gentle familiarity, yet it was clear that conversation was inevitable.

“Your mother mentioned the date,” he began, his tone imbued with a warmth that contrasted with the weariness you felt. “She’s been eagerly anticipating it since it was arranged.”

You couldn’t suppress a weary roll of your eyes and a scoff that escaped your lips. The unspoken truth about your mother’s unyielding determination was well-known to anyone who had crossed her path. “I can imagine.”

He paused, allowing the silence to stretch between you before continuing with a reflective tone. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing, you know. Take your mother and me as a prime example—our parents arranged our first date, with all the supervision that implies.”

A flicker of curiosity prompted you to ask, “And were you happy about it back then?”

A warm, nostalgic chuckle escaped him, and his eyes seemed to drift back through the corridors of time. “Oh, not at all. I cherished my freedom as a single man with great fervor. Yet, I grew to be immensely grateful to my parents once I met your mother. She’s the reason I look forward to each new day.”

Your father’s unwavering devotion to your mother was a daily reminder of their profound bond. His love for her was ever-present, expressed in countless small gestures and heartfelt words. Their enduring love was a beacon, a once-in-a-lifetime romance that left you both in awe and a bit wistful. The idea of finding such a rare and beautiful connection felt like a distant dream, a cherished possibility that seemed almost beyond reach.

Their love story had been woven into the fabric of your childhood, recounted so often it had become a cherished refrain. While you held its every detail close to your heart, there were times you longed for a change of topic. “How’s Siwoo? The last I heard, his wife had welcomed a new baby a few months ago.” It was a humble attempt to shift the conversation, but it proved effective.

A contented sigh escaped your father’s lips, his eyes shimmering with paternal pride. “Ah, he’s thriving, from all accounts. It seems to be the only subject your mother is keen to discuss, aside from your own growing success.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you. It wasn’t surprising that Siwoo, with his naturally gentle and nurturing spirit, was flourishing as a father. It brought you immense joy to see him building a loving family, his partner described as his equal, creating a life together that seemed as perfect as it was fulfilling.

A moment of silence lingered between you, each lost in thought. “How’s work?” he eventually inquired.

“It’s hectic,” you sighed, the weariness evident in your voice. “I don’t get nearly as much rest as I need given my condition, but there’s a profound satisfaction in sharing my work as I do.”

You noticed the delicate way he sidestepped the mention of your condition, his gaze steady and sincere as he said, “I can’t express how happy it makes me to see your dreams come true.”

Though his words were meant to be a balm for your spirit, a pang of unspoken longing lingered within you. The ache wasn’t from a lack of his affection, but from the quiet yearning for your parents to fully grasp the weight of your daily battles. It mattered little that the doctors they consulted had dismissed your pain as inconsequential; the sting of their disbelief and the chasm it had created between you and them was deep and enduring. You doubted that sharing your diagnosis would bridge that gap, so you chose silence instead, letting the quiet sorrow settle over you like a heavy mist.

You arrived at the charming café nestled around the corner well before the agreed-upon time, eager to claim a quiet corner for your date. The delicate warmth of the summer evening contrasted with the crisp chill of the café's interior, where you sought solace. Your recent struggles with mobility made the prospect of remaining seated in one spot particularly appealing, and you aimed to make the evening as comfortable as possible. You carefully selected a secluded table in a cozy nook, shielded from prying eyes by a curtain of softly glowing fairy lights, craving the intimacy of privacy.

Settling into your seat, you gazed around the café, letting your curiosity about your date’s identity swirl through your thoughts. The idea of meeting another idol sparked a flicker of intrigue, despite your condition limiting your social interactions. You mentally cycled through a list of Korean celebrities you knew or had encountered in the past, only to realize how brief it was—an echo of your increasingly reclusive lifestyle.

As the minutes slipped by, the café’s atmosphere hummed with a gentle blend of murmured conversations and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Finally, a waiter approached, accompanied by a young man whose presence was unmistakably magnetic. Han Jisung from Stray Kids. Your heart fluttered at the sight of him, recognizing him from various awards shows. His shy smile, revealed only after he removed his mask, was a charming contrast to his already striking appearance.

“Hello,” you greeted softly, your smile a beacon of warmth and friendliness.

Jisung’s eyes widened with a touch of surprise, and he returned your smile with genuine warmth. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

“You look really nice,” you replied, striving to dispel the tension with a sincere compliment.

His cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “Thank you. You look beautiful,” he responded, his voice soft and earnest.

Despite your polite exchanges, the conversation struggled to gain momentum, quickly falling into an awkward silence. You both made several attempts at small talk throughout the evening, but the words stumbled, failing to bridge the gap of unfamiliarity. The discomfort from the café’s rigid seats amplified your back pain, making it difficult for you to muster any flirty or charming banter. Your attempt to ask about Stray Kids’ latest album emerged as a hurried, awkward query that felt more suited to a scripted interview.

As the evening stretched on, the pain in your back became increasingly unbearable. You decided it was time to leave. With a sense of reluctance, you informed Jisung of your departure, noticing the disappointment that flickered across his face. He rose from his seat, an unspoken offer of support lingering in his stance. Although his presence was a reminder of your need for assistance, you were grateful for his kindness.

Outside, your driver waited, the car pulling up smoothly as soon as he saw you approach. You turned back to Jisung, offering a final, heartfelt smile. “It was wonderful meeting you,” you said, your voice tinged with genuine appreciation before you climbed into the car, which whisked you away into the night.

As soon as you disappeared from view, the same attentive waiter who had been serving them all evening hurried after you, clutching your collapsible cane. He handed it to Jisung, who looked at the cane with a puzzled expression.

Jisung’s brow furrowed in confusion as he examined the cane. He pulled out his phone, his mind racing with thoughts on how to return the forgotten item to you. He sent a quick text to his mother, seeking her advice on how to get in touch with you to ensure the cane found its way back into your hands.

posted: 07 • 23 • 2024

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Series taglist: @jisunglyricist @mitchii @skzstan12345 (Comment down below to be added!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

Write for hanni pls pls pls

Hello! First of all, thank you so, so much for being not only my very first NewJeans request, but also my very first girl group request! You have no idea how excited and happy it made me when I received your notification 🫶🥹

Second of all, since you didn't specify what exactly you wanted to see, I took the liberty to just come up with something on my own, so I hope you enjoy it! If you want me to write something a little more specific, you're more than welcome to make another request! ── ( 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 )

☔️ BLUE LEMONADE ☔️

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 5.5k

well, for mamamoo my bias is moonbyul for sure. it’s like that “i don’t know if i want to be her or be with her” kinda feeling

as for p1h, i love them all so much. i’m older than all of them (theo by just a few months) so i feel very protective of them in like an older sister kinda way. it’s so hard to choose, but if i were to pick a bias, i’d have to say our ace, jiung. his laugh is so contagious, and he’s so loud at the most random times (until his social battery is dead)

for stray kids, i’m still learning more about them. i don’t know if i have a bias just yet… but they’re all really funny, with each other and alone. i’ll have to get back to you on that once i dive deeper into that fandom

music in general is my special interest, but i can’t tell if k-pop is becoming one or just a hyper fixation. i feel like it might be the latter…

- 🍀

Okay but you’re so real for that 🙂‍↕️ Moonbyul is just so…gay. Her song “Shutdown” speaks for itself.

No way, really? I’m kinda smack in the middle of the group age-wise. But I totally get that, I recently started stanning NewJeans and I feel the same way about them, kinda, since I’m older than all of them by two or three years. Jiung is such a good one, he’s just so relatable and funny, I love him. (Also 😭 please the way I immediately thought of the “give me my money” TikTok 😭😭 they did the guy so fucking dirty and for what 💀)

Yeah, please do! I promise they’re amazing, like they’re genuinely such a wonderful family 🥹

Also, that’s very fair! I’m still glad you’re here, even if it’s temporary 🫶

NO ME DIGAS NO ME DIGAS! HE ENCONTRADO MÁS STAYS HISPANAS AHHHH (soy puertorriqueñx)

amiga sos d las unicas escritoras d stayblr q vi q hable español te amo

OMG vaidbajdjqj no soy la única!! están mis niñas @stayconnecteed y @lyramundana, que somos todas españolas

pero igual gracias anon! <333 ajdbjadjkskd me alegro mucho, y ojalá que te la pases otra vez por mi blog! <33

hold on, i’m gonna need a moment *screams into pillow*

oh my god. holy shit. the nuggetz fic was so fucking hot. everything about it was absolute perfection and better than anything i could’ve imagined (as usual). pathetic, whiny men are one of my biggest weaknesses😫

and then the gunil fic??? um, oh my god it was so sweet!! gunil is so adorable and kind, and it pains me that he doesn’t get as much appreciation as the others do. thank you so much for doing our sweet boy justice!!!

and actually i’m quite new to all this. until recently i’ve just been a casual listener of k-pop/rock, xdh was the band that helped me discover everything else, but it’s so comforting to find other queer people in this community!!🥰

(and don’t you worry, i’m already thinking of another threesome idea🤭)

- 🍀

🤭 I’m so glad you enjoyed it! You honestly opened the door for me to write threesomes and now I can’t wait to do it again like, asap. And also, pathetic whiny men are so 🫠😩 they’re perfect and exactly what men are meant to be.

No I totally agree! Like Gunil genuinely is such a dorky little guy so what’s not to like? Honestly, if no one wants him then I’ll take him 🤷 I was really glad to write for him!

Really? Then welcome to the K-Pop/K-Rock community! Can I ask what other groups you stan?

And yeah, I agree! I don’t know why but finding openly queer stans is so hard for me, so when I finally find someone I just get so genuinely happy about it.

PLEASE send the next threesome idea my way, I’m on my hands and knees 🧎

❤️ TONIGHT IS ABOUT YOU ( xdinary heroes )

❛ Amidst a night of rekindled romance and sensual pleasure, you and Gunil embrace each other’s desires, finding solace and excitement in your intense and heartfelt reunion.

𝐠𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐥 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 18 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Requested by the wonderful 🍀 Anon! This is was honestly so sickeningly sweet to write, I really enjoyed this one since it ended up being so soft. I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, Y/N had gone out drinking but is sober by the time they return home, Gunil's been working a lot so he hasn't been home much, romantic and soft smut, handjob, blowjob, profanity, brief mention of Y/N also receiving oral but we don't to read that part, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

As you carefully slide your shoes off, the familiar hush of your home envelops you, the stillness a stark contrast to the night's revelry. The soft padding of your feet against the cool floor seems amplified in the quiet, and with deliberate care, you place your shoes onto the rack by the entrance. The late hour presses down on you, a reminder to tread softly, mindful not to disturb the peaceful sanctuary that awaits within.

The night had been nothing short of a whirlwind, each moment buzzing with energy and laughter as you and your friends flitted from one bar to the next. Yet now, as you stand in the silence of your apartment, the weight of exhaustion begins to settle in, your body finally yielding to the fatigue that the evening’s adrenaline had kept at bay. It had been ages since you last indulged in such carefree escapades, and the memory of tonight’s adventures lingers warmly, even as the comfort of home beckons you to unwind.

As you quietly peek into the living room, a tender warmth blooms in your chest at the sight that greets you. There, illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the television, is your boyfriend, Gunil, fast asleep on the couch. The dim light casts gentle shadows across his serene features, highlighting the peacefulness of his slumber. The quiet hum of the TV is the only sound filling the room, a soothing backdrop to the stillness that envelops your home.

Gunil’s hand still loosely grips the remote, a small detail that tugs at your heartstrings. His head is tilted back, resting awkwardly against the couch in a position that must be anything but comfortable. His body remains seated, as if he had only intended to wait a little longer for your return before drifting off. The sight of him like this, so unguarded and patient, fills you with a deep affection that makes you smile softly to yourself.

As you move closer, you hear the gentle rhythm of his snores, a sound that only deepens your affection for him. With careful steps, you lower yourself onto the floor in front of him, making sure not to disturb his peaceful rest. The close proximity allows you to take in the little details—the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his lips are slightly parted in sleep, and the way his hair, tousled from the evening, frames his face. In this quiet moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in the comforting stillness of the night.

It had been far too long since you last indulged in a night out with your friends, a reality that hadn’t escaped Gunil’s attention. Sensing your hesitation when the invitation arrived, he had gently urged you to go, reminding you of how much you needed a break, especially to celebrate your friend’s birthday at the club. His encouragement had been the nudge you needed, and as the night unfolded, you found yourself immensely grateful for his insistence. Despite your initial reluctance, the evening turned out to be filled with laughter, music, and the kind of carefree joy that only comes from being surrounded by good company.

As the memories of the night swirl in your mind, you realize that the buzz from the drinks you had at the club has long since faded, leaving behind only a pleasant sense of contentment. Yet, as you watch Gunil now, asleep on the couch, a gentle ache settles in your chest. His peaceful expression, softened by the flickering light of the television, stirs something within you—a reminder of how long it’s been since the two of you have truly connected. The demands of his career, particularly with the release of his new album, have kept him busy, and each time he returned home, it was with an exhaustion that left little room for anything else.

But now, as you sit quietly in front of him, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope. With the album finally out and his schedule beginning to clear, the possibility of reconnecting, of spending those precious moments together, seems closer than ever. The thought brings a soft smile to your lips, a promise of the warmth and affection that will soon fill the spaces that have felt empty for far too long.

Without a second thought, you find yourself leaning forward, gently resting your chin on his knee. The soft warmth of his skin beneath you, combined with the steady rise and fall of his breathing, anchors you in this quiet, intimate moment. Your eyes, filled with affection, remain fixed on him, drinking in every detail of his serene expression. 

A small stir from him catches your attention, and you watch as his brows knit together in that familiar, endearing way that always tugs at your heartstrings. A sleepy groan escapes his lips as he begins to rouse from slumber, the sound muffled yet comforting in the stillness of the room. As he slowly becomes aware of your presence, his eyes flutter open, and you’re met with a gaze that seems to glow with recognition and warmth.

The sight of his sleepy smile, soft and genuine, breathes a new vitality into you, chasing away the remnants of fatigue from your night out. “Baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick and husky with the remnants of sleep, each word wrapped in tenderness. “How was tonight?” His question, simple yet filled with care, wraps around you like a warm embrace, making you feel cherished in a way that only he can.

You remain with your head nestled on his knee, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. He doesn’t move to displace you; instead, he leans forward, his movement gentle and unhurried, to press a tender kiss against your forehead. The touch of his lips is soft, a quiet promise of affection that lingers even as he pulls back to meet your gaze. His eyes hold yours with a depth of emotion that only deepens as his fingers weave through your hair, the motion soothing and filled with love.

For a moment, your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the comfort of his touch. A contented sigh escapes you, the simple pleasure of being close to him washing away any lingering traces of the evening’s excitement. You open your eyes slowly, your gaze softened by the calm that has settled over you. “It was good,” you murmur, your voice gentle as it breaks the comfortable silence. “I had a lot of fun.”

"See?" he teases, his voice laced with playful triumph. You can’t help but roll your eyes in response, a soft snort escaping you as you catch his smirk. "I knew you'd have a good time going out," he continues, the warmth in his tone making his light-hearted taunt feel more like an affectionate nudge than anything else.

With a small huff of mock indignation, you lift yourself from the floor, shifting onto your knees as you position yourself between his legs. You lean into him, using his lap for support, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his shirt. The familiar texture beneath your fingertips is comforting, grounding you in this tender moment. He lets you fidget, watching you with a gaze that holds both amusement and adoration. He’d let you do anything you wanted if you asked, and you’re fully aware of the power you hold in these small, intimate moments—something you occasionally enjoy using to your advantage.

His fingers find their way into your hair, gently twirling a strand around as he asks, "Did you drink a lot?" The question is casual, his voice low and soothing, as if he’s simply continuing a conversation from earlier in the evening.

You shake your head slightly, your answer honest. "No, I didn’t," you say, the words soft yet clear. "I wanted to be able to find my way back here safely, didn’t want to bother you." There’s a subtle undercurrent of affection in your response, a quiet acknowledgment of the care you both have for each other. The thought of him worrying or being disturbed by a late-night call was something you wanted to avoid, and your choice reflects that consideration. 

He gives you a gentle smile, his fingers continuing their slow, rhythmic twirling of your hair, and in that moment, the unspoken understanding between you both deepens, wrapping the room in a warmth that only the two of you share.

"Smart girl," he chuckles, his voice filled with warmth and amusement. "But I would’ve been more than happy to pick you up." His words are a gentle reminder of the unwavering support he always offers, a reassurance that you’ve come to cherish deeply. You knew this about him, of course, but there’s something in your nature that prefers to keep control firmly in your own hands, especially when you’re out on your own. The idea of relying on someone else, even someone as dependable as him, isn’t something you take lightly.

Yet, his words bring a soft smile to your lips. There’s a tenderness in his reassurance, a quiet promise that he would always be there for you, no matter the hour or the circumstances. His touch, warm and steady, only deepens the comfort you feel, making you melt into the moment, wrapped in the safety of his presence.

After a brief pause, during which the silence between you is filled with a shared understanding, you ask, "How was work?" Your voice is gentle, filled with genuine curiosity and care. This is the first time you’ve seen him today, and the weight of the hours spent apart lingers in the space between you. The question, simple as it is, carries with it the unspoken acknowledgment of the time and energy he pours into his work, as well as the longing you feel to reconnect after a day spent apart.

He sighed deeply, the weariness evident in the way his shoulders sagged as he leaned back into the couch. “It was okay,” he replied, but the tension in his expression betrayed the weight behind his words. You could sense there was more to it, something lingering beneath the surface that he hadn’t yet voiced.

"Most of the day was spent rehearsing," he continued, his tone carrying a hint of exhaustion. "And then I had to sit through a bunch of meetings without the other members. It was painfully boring—just the same old rules they want me to enforce now that we’ve got a little more free time since the comeback promotions are over."

As he spoke, you noticed the deep frown etched onto his face, his frustration palpable. "And it didn’t help that Dumb and Dumber were being extra annoying and troublesome," he grumbled, the familiar nicknames for his bandmates, Jiseok and Jooyeon, causing a soft giggle to escape your lips. The corners of his mouth twitched at your reaction, but the frustration still lingered.

"I don’t understand why they must take everything as a joke," he went on, shaking his head in disbelief. "I love them—please don’t get me wrong—but my gosh, do you think they know it won’t kill them to not joke around and listen for just a minute?" His voice held a mix of exasperation and fondness, the duality of his feelings toward his bandmates shining through.

As he vented, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes softened, the tension slowly ebbing away as he shared his thoughts with you. The connection between you both deepened with each word, his vulnerability allowing you to see the man behind the leader, the one who carried the weight of responsibility while still holding a deep love for those who made his life both challenging and joyful.

You nod in understanding, your expression a blend of empathy and mild amusement at the inevitable chaos Gunil’s bandmates always seem to bring. As your fingers drift to caress his lower abdomen, you notice the way his gaze lingers on your hand, the subtle flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes before he clears his throat. You feign innocence, despite the mischievous glint in your eyes that betrays your true intentions.

“Being a leader sounds so exhausting,” you murmur softly, your voice a soothing melody that seems to ease the tension in his posture. The words hang in the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace, and you feel him physically relax under your gentle touch. For a moment, you keep your hand resting on his abdomen, the warmth of your palm seeping through the fabric of his shirt, grounding him in the present.

But then, with a playful glint in your eye, your fingers begin to travel lower, tracing delicate, shapeless patterns on his upper thighs. The touch is light, almost teasing, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere as Gunil’s breathing deepens, the sudden tension crackling between you. His eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of intoxication, a habit born from a place of care and concern. 

When he finds none, he lets out a deep sigh, a mixture of relief and anticipation, as if surrendering to the moment. The weight of the day begins to melt away, replaced by the intoxicating pull of your presence, your playful affection rekindling the connection between you in a way that words alone could never achieve.

"I missed you so much; you honestly have no idea," Gunil grunted, his voice thick with longing, his eyes darkening with desire as they bore into you. You gazed up at him through your lashes, offering a soft, innocent smile that you knew he found irresistible. The subtle curve of your lips only deepened the magnetic pull between you, the kind that had your heart quickening in anticipation.

His words lingered in the charged atmosphere, and you could feel the heat rising within you, your pulse matching the rhythm of the desire that simmered just beneath the surface. "I missed you too, baby, so much it’s not even remotely funny," you murmured, your voice low and intimate, the only sound cutting through the tense air, aside from the faint, forgotten hum of the television behind you. Your eyes remained locked on his, an unspoken understanding passing between you as the world around you faded into irrelevance.

Your core ached with need as you watched his length harden, the sight sending a thrill of power coursing through you. He hadn’t even removed his pants, and yet, his body responded to you with a raw intensity that made you revel in the control you held over him. His gaze never wavered, filled with a lust that matched your own, fueling the growing tension that crackled in the air.

"But now that you don’t have to leave me so early in the mornings for interviews and such," you murmured, your tone turning sultry, your lips curving into a slight smirk as your touch became more deliberate. You reached up to the waistband of his grey sweatpants, fingers brushing against the fabric, teasing but not yet pulling them off. "What do you say I show you just how much I missed you, huh? It'll help you destress, too."

Gunil's breath hitched at your sultry offer, a shiver of anticipation rippling through him as all rational thoughts seemed to abandon his mind. You could see the surrender in his eyes, the way his logical defenses crumbled in the face of your teasing promise. His nod was almost dumb, a testament to the overwhelming desire that clouded his judgment.

Your teasing smirk widened, a hint of mischief dancing on your lips as your hands remained firmly gripping the waistband of his sweatpants. Despite his silent consent, you made no move, savoring the way his helplessness played into your hands. "No, baby, you know better than that," you murmured gently, the words dripping with affection. "You’ve got to use your words, like the good boy I know you are." Your eyes roamed over his flushed face, admiring how his lustful neediness mixed with exhaustion to create a heady blend of desire.

"Yes," he breathed heavily, his voice a low, pleading murmur. "Show me how much you've missed me, please." There was something undeniably endearing about how easily he crumbled under your teasing touch. His plea was earnest, laced with the vulnerability that made your heart ache with tenderness.

As you saw the blissful neediness etched in his expression, combined with the weariness of his long day, you decided to indulge him. With a swift, decisive movement, you pulled his sweatpants and underwear down to his ankles in one fluid motion. A soft chuckle of endearment escaped your lips as you watched his hardened length spring free, the sight of it lightly slapping against his clothed abdomen.

Gunil groaned in relief, the sound low and guttural, but his dark, desire-filled gaze never left yours. The raw intensity of his stare only deepened the connection between you, heightening the moment with an almost palpable charge of anticipation and affection.

"Aw," you coo softly, leaning in closer to his eager core, your breath warm against his sensitive skin. "You're already so ready for me?" The playful note in your voice is tinged with genuine surprise, and you can’t help but savor the sight of his flushed, eager response.

Gunil huffs at your teasing, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—only the soft undertone of affection and vulnerability. "You know I'll always be ready like this for you," he murmurs, his voice laced with sincerity. "I can't help it." His words are a tender confession, wrapped in the promise of unending devotion.

Your heart swells with emotion, the intensity of his confession making your cheeks flush a deep crimson. The warmth that spreads across your face mirrors the fluttering sensation in your chest, making you feel both cherished and vulnerable. Gunil’s eyes twinkle with amusement, his laughter a gentle, loving sound that only deepens your blush.

In this moment, it becomes clear that the power dynamics are beautifully mutual. While you wield a tender influence over him, it’s equally true that he holds an undeniable grip on your heart. The thought of his effect on you, the way he can effortlessly bring a flush to your cheeks and a smile to your lips, fills you with a contented warmth. You wouldn’t dream of complaining about the hold he has on you; it’s a bond you cherish deeply, one that makes every touch, every word, all the more meaningful.

You wasted no time, your fingers curling around his throbbing length with a careful yet eager grip. The delicious girth of him filled your palm, a sensation that made you pause for a moment, savoring the warmth and weight of his desire. The simple touch elicited a deep, blissful groan from Gunil, causing him to momentarily throw his head back in sheer pleasure. His eyes, dark and intense, quickly snapped back to you, following your every move with a mix of anticipation and longing.

As you held him, your self-restraint slipped away, replaced by a primal desire to fully explore and enjoy the moment. Leaning in close, you allowed a deliberate drop of saliva to glide down onto the crimson-red tip of his length. The contrast of the cool, slick moisture against his heated skin caused a shiver of pleasure to run through him. You began to stroke him with a languid, almost lazy pace, yet the effect was anything but subdued. Each movement had Gunil gasping and grunting beneath you, his body reacting eagerly to the rhythm you set.

Watching him lose himself so easily in the pleasure you were giving him, a pang of nostalgia and longing settled in your chest. You recalled the last time you had seen him like this, a few months ago, before his comeback had taken him away for what felt like an eternity. The realization of how long it had been since you had shared such intimate moments together spurred you on with renewed urgency.

Quickening your pace, you used your free hand to press into his lower abdomen, holding him steady as his hips began to buck instinctively against your touch. The depth of his pleasure, the way his body responded to you, filled you with a sense of satisfaction and connection, making the moment all the more intense and precious.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gunil chanted breathlessly, his voice a low murmur of desperation as beads of sweat began to glisten on his forehead. The pleasure building within him was palpable, each wave of sensation intensifying with every passing second. Just as he reached the brink, you abruptly abandoned the steady rhythm of your hand, causing a high-pitched whine to escape his lips—an instinctive sound of frustration and longing.

You let out a soft, teasing chuckle, shifting slightly on your knees to draw closer to him. Your fingers, now slick with his arousal, wrapped around his length once more. This time, however, your touch was deliberate and slow, as you hovered just above his sensitive tip. With a playful, lingering gaze, you pressed a gentle kiss to his aching head, eliciting a guttural moan from Gunil. His hips bucked upwards, driven by a desperate yearning to feel the warmth of your mouth enveloping him.

Without making him wait, you enveloped his tip with your lips, the warmth and wetness of your mouth sending shivers of pleasure through him. Your tongue darted out, teasing and tasting, as you slowly began to sink your head downward. Gunil’s moans grew louder, each sound a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were bestowing upon him. As you descended further, your nose brushed against his pelvis, and you could feel the tip of his arousal touch the back of your throat. The sensation of him so deep within you only heightened the intensity of the moment, making the connection between you both even more profound and intimate.

Gunil’s fingers wove themselves into your hair, gripping gently yet firmly as he anchored you in place. The sensation of his touch, combined with the warmth of his arousal against your lips, was intoxicating. You luxuriated in the moment, savoring the long-awaited intimacy after such a lengthy separation. As you settled into the rhythm, you made sure to breathe through your nose and hollow out your cheeks, a subtle adjustment that heightened both your comfort and his pleasure.

“God, baby, I missed your mouth so much,” he groaned, his voice a deep rumble of need as he began to guide your head up and down his length. You acquiesced to his movements for a moment, allowing him to control the pace, feeling his pleasure build with each pass. However, a teasing glint flickered in your eyes as you decided to exert your own control. With a swift motion, you slapped his hand away and pulled back, a mix of his arousal and your saliva trickling past your lips. 

You wiped away the remnants with a deliberate, casual gesture before looking up at him with a stern yet gentle expression. “Tonight is about you relaxing, baby, so let me take care of you.” Your voice was soft but commanding, carrying the promise of indulgence. Gunil, whose disappointed whine echoed your withdrawal, nodded eagerly, his hips instinctively bucking upward in a desperate plea for your return. His eyes, clouded with a mix of desire and vulnerability, followed your every movement, silently begging for the intimacy you were poised to give.

For a few lingering moments, you admired the sight of Gunil completely consumed by his lustful desires, his every expression a testament to the pleasure you were giving him. With a delicate, practiced grace, you slid your mouth down his length until your nose brushed against his pelvis once again. This time, however, you were quick to lift your head, leaving only the tip of his arousal nestled in your mouth. 

As you resumed your rhythmic motion, your head bobbing up and down his leaking length, you allowed your tongue to dance and twirl around him, caressing every delicious vein with teasing precision. You lavished attention on his tip, sucking lightly while your tongue explored his slit, a touch that never failed to elicit a breathless cry from him. Gunil’s grip tightened on the couch cushions, his knuckles white from the strain as he fought to stay grounded.

In a shift of focus, you let your hand drift to his tightened balls, gently massaging them to enhance his pleasure. His reaction was immediate and profound; you noticed his eyes were thrown back, tightly shut, as he surrendered completely to the sensations. Gunil looked almost ethereal in this state—his chest heaving with each ragged breath, his mouth slightly agape with his tongue lolling to one side, and his muscles flexing as he refrains from taking away the control you'd so kindly requested.

The sight of him, so beautifully vulnerable and lost in ecstasy, stirred a deep ache of affection within you. Every subtle detail of his expression, every shudder of his body, made your heart swell with a yearning that was almost overwhelming. You knew, in that moment, that you wanted more—more of this intimacy, more of the exquisite connection that bound you together.

The escalating rhythm of your movements, coupled with the tender caress of your hand on his sensitive balls, quickly overwhelmed Gunil. The intensity of the moment, magnified by the prolonged separation, drove him to release a series of broken moans, each sound a testament to the powerful climax that consumed him. His grip on your head tightened, pressing you firmly against his pelvis as waves of pleasure washed over him. 

You felt the warmth of his release as it trickled down your throat, the sensation both satisfying and intensely arousing. The ache in your core grew more urgent, a desperate need that made you instinctively rub your thighs together in search of friction. It took several moments for Gunil to descend from his high, his breathing ragged and his body shivering with the aftershocks. As he finally loosened his grip, you pulled away from his softening length, savoring the lingering warmth that clung to your tongue. 

When Gunil’s eyes fluttered open, you made a deliberate show of displaying the remnants of his release before swallowing and sticking your tongue out to reveal its absence. His reaction was immediate—a deep, appreciative groan followed by a satisfied chuckle. With an affectionate tenderness, he leaned down to press a passionate kiss to your lips, a gesture that elicited a soft moan from you. His touch was gentle yet insistent as he pinched your chin lightly between his thumb and index finger, guiding you to look up at him. His gaze was filled with a love so intense it nearly took your breath away, and his smile radiated pure adoration.

“I know you said tonight was about me,” he murmured, his voice husky and roughened from pleasure, a sound that filled you with a deep sense of satisfaction. “But I missed you too much not to taste you as well.” With a swift, decisive movement, you gasped in delight as you were gently but firmly pushed onto the soft couch. Gunil now knelt eagerly before you, his gaze fixed on your drenched arousal with a hunger that mirrored the intensity of your own desires.

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i’m so happy you enjoyed it! i meant what i said in my notes at the end, i love when you request since your mind is just so wonderful!

hi green, how are you doing ?? i hope everything’s alright<33

i hope you dont mind but i wanted to request something again >< i was wondering if you could write a smut with chan, but focus more on the aftercare ??

lets say he had a stressful week and during sex he decided to reselase his anger and stress on the reader, but they had a hard week themselves and just couldnt take it, so they decided to use their safeword and channie would be all like oh ?? and maybe the reader would even cry a little and be apologetic, because “i’m so sorry, i know you had a hard time, i just can’t do it today” saying that while clinging to him and seeking comfort >:((

and then chan would focus on making them feel safe, he would clean the up and reassure them that if completely fine and he's proud of them and just the whole aftercare part ><

if its too much then its completely fine !! please dont feel pressured to write it if its not your cup of tea<33

anyway, please take care !!😽

use of the safe word.

other works by green.

pairing: chan x female reader

content warnings: hurt/comfort, rough and overwhelming sex, crying, bloody lip, aftercare, not proofread

rating: 18+

summary: chan had always been the sweetest human ever, but after you’d both had a rough week, you both find out that you had different ways of decompressing.

His fingers found their way to your throat while he groaned in your ear, squeezing in a way you usually adored as Chan thrusted in and out of you at a brutal pace. He was completely lost in his own world, moaning about how tight you felt around him and how he’d been thinking about having you like this all day after the stress he’s had to deal with over the course of several days. It was difficult to breathe for you, though, all of your senses seemingly going haywire as you attempted to ground yourself by gripping the sheets below you and trying to focus on his babbles of pleasure. However, instead of enjoying this moment with your lover like you normally would, your mind was a storm of frustration and stress that only increased with Chan’s speed.

It was too much for you — everything about this was overwhelming, including the guilt that followed your distressed thoughts. Chan had arrived home and immediately pulled you in for a rough kiss, and you had followed along because you were well aware of how rough it’s been for him recently and you figured you’d let him release it all on you before talking. Although nothing could’ve prepared you for the complete disconnect that plagued you — you didn’t feel seen or loved, he barely managed to remember some of the things he knew you liked while he chased his own orgasm. It wasn’t to say that he was doing it purposely, you knew that Chan loved you to insanity because this was strange for him.

Unwanted tears rolled down your cheeks, and you bit your lip harshly so as to not let him know of your state since his face was buried into the nape of your neck. His breath felt hot on your skin, and sharp pangs of pain shot up your body with each time Chan bottomed out. Your eyes were squeezed shut so as to prevent any more tears from spilling, and a whimper escaped your lips as your teeth broke skin.

Too much. Too much. I don’t like this!

Chan’s movements became slightly more erratic, which signifies that he was close to achieving his orgasm. But the room was spinning and you didn’t think you could take this roughness any longer.

“Channie, stop, stop, red light!”

All movements halted, dizzying you slightly. Chan pulled back immediately as his grip on your throat loosened and his eyes scanned your face with concern. The sobs were pushing their way out of you and the tears rolled down your cheeks freely and stained the pillow below your head. “I’m so sorry, Channie!”

“Oh— Wait, no, no don’t apologize,” Chan quickly responded, slowly pulling out of you so as to not overwhelm you further. His brows were furrowed, catching sight of your bloody bottom lip and your anguished expression. “What happened baby? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you continued to cry, your entire body shaking violently as you reached for your boyfriend. “I know you’ve been having a hard time, I just can’t take it today.”

He wrapped his muscled arms around your trembling body, kissing the top of your head as the beat of his heart seemed to ground you despite how erratic it was, bringing you back to reality. It was clear that he was still confused, and you were grateful that he wasn’t pushing for an explanation right away. Instead he shifted slightly so that he could place his calloused hand on your chest, applying a bit of pressure while inhaling and exhaling deeply. You followed his breathing pattern, slowly noticing that he’d pulled you into his lap at some point, cradling your body as though it was made of porcelain.

When your cries had slowed to a near stop, he moved his gaze onto your face — guilty eyes searching for any remaining distress. His thumb caressed your cheeks, drying your tears in the process as he attempted a soft smile.

“Baby?”

A shaky breath made its way past your lips, eyes glued to the crumpled sheets while you twiddle your thumbs in your lap. “I’m sorry.”

“No, angel, don’t apologize.” Chan spoke softly, yet his tone was stern. “Please don’t apologize, I’m proud of you for stopping me, okay?”

You could only nod meekly.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Nothing was said, but the shame arose in the form of choked sobs and Chan pulled you back onto his chest while rocking from side to side. His fingers carded through your hair gently as he hummed a nearly inaudible tune to calm you. This time, you were able to pull yourself quicker.

“I’m going to get you some water, okay?” He didn’t wait for a response before he was lifting you up slightly and laying you on his side of your shared bed. The sound of his speedy footsteps that made their way to the kitchen were the only thing heard aside from your own ragged breathing.

You sat up when he returned with a cold glass of water in one hand and what looked like a warm, wet towel in the other. He handed you the water first, watching you intently as you hissed a bit as soon as your cut lip made contact with the coldness of your drink. You downed your drink in one go, your throat screeching in relief from how dry it had been until a moment ago.

“I’m going to clean you up a little bit, and then you should pee.”

His rough hands touched your shoulder lightly, nudging you so that you would lay back and spread your lips. The jolt that occurred as soon as you felt the warmth of the towel touch your core had your ears turning red in shame, you knew he wouldn’t purposely hurt you so there was no reason to act like this. You didn’t miss the hurt that flashed across his face.

As you peed, Chan was quietly filling up the bathtub and adding a lavender scented bath bomb to soothe your anxiety. You watched him work from the toilet in silence, lips set into a deep frown.

“It’s done baby,” Chan announced, turning to face you with a benign smile. “We should take care of your lip first though.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled again as you pulled your knees up to your chest. “I haven’t done anything but add to your stress, and it shouldn’t have been like this. I could’ve lasted until you–”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Y/N.” Chan sounded so grave you couldn’t help but inhale sharply, eyes widening slightly. “Please don’t ever do that, we have a safe word for a reason. Always, always use it whenever you’re not having a good time. There’s really no hard feelings for me, what’s important for me is that you’re okay and that I don’t end up hurting you.”

You sniffed, bracing yourself as he neared you with a small cloth that had been dipped in antiseptics that made you hiss at the burn as soon as he dabbed it to your wound. He gently blew on your lip as an effort to lessen the pain.

“You’re so sweet to me.”

Chan pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering for a moment as if to make you feel his love through the simple action – and you did. A small smile made its way onto your face at last as his hands guided you to the bathtub, helping you get in before he knelt beside you.

The warmth of the deliciously scented water instantly relaxed your sore muscles, you sighed in relief. The light swishing sound of the water following your movements seemed to add to your newfound serenity, your eyes falling closed for only a second before the sense of something being missing began gnawing at your mind. You turned to find Chan sitting on the bathroom floor, eyes sparkling as he watched you while resting his chin on the edge of the bathtub. The corners of your mouth quirked up slightly at the sight, heart soaring.

“Join me.”

He shook his head, returning your smile.

“Channie,” you pouted. “You don’t have to feel guilty about what happened, I promised.”

He shook his head again, his smile remaining as he blinked rapidly as if to keep unshed tears at bay.

“Baby, please don’t feel guilty…you didn’t know.”

“No,” his voice cracked a bit. “I should’ve known, you bit your lip so hard you started bleeding. You were crying, you weren’t even able to tell me what happened. I should’ve noticed.”

Your hand touched the side of his face, droplets of water rolling down his smooth skin. “I should have told you I wasn’t okay as soon as I realized, baby. But we can still relax together, please, join me.”

Chan seemed hesitant for a few beats before sighing. He was already naked, so all he needed to do was take his place behind you. It was a tight fit, but you liked this kind of closeness as his arms wrapped themselves tightly around your torso and he rested his chin on your shoulder. Neither of you speak for a bit, basking in the tranquility of it all.

“I’m sorry.”

Not a word needed to be said, so you lifted his hand and kissed it once, twice, three times until he chuckled lightly. He pressed his own lips on your shoulder, and you felt a few tears grace the skin near his lips, so you reached up to his hair and scratched his head as a form of comfort.

“I knew that you were frustrated, stressed and all of that when you brought me to our room and I really thought I would be fine,” you finally explained, Chan had yet to remove his lips from you as he listened. “But I guess I didn’t take into consideration the shitty week I’ve been having too and it was just– a lot of it was just the new boss that arrived last Monday micromanaging every single breath I took, my workload was humongous compared to what I used to have before. He was so condescending, too, just doubting everything I said and asking my male coworkers to double check all the information I provided. I didn’t have a good time. And then we were having sex, and we barely exchanged a few words to each other before that, and it was just very overwhelming. I should’ve said something, so part of it was on me. I will make sure to be better next time, be more vocal about my needs and such.”

Chan lifted his head from your shoulder, cupping his hands to spill some of it onto your hair, massaging your scalp. “I’m sorry your new boss has been such an uptight dick all week…and I’m sorry I was so rough with you– especially without at least talking with you for a bit before, I’ll be sure to check in on you more often when we make love, especially if negative emotions are affecting either of us.”

“I really appreciate you, Channie.” You take his hands in yours, massaging them lightly and playing with his pretty fingers absentmindedly. “What about you, baby, what had you so worked up when you got here?”

Chan’s voice was soothing as he talked, the vibrations of his voice could be felt on his chest and it served as some kind of comforting sensation as you pressed yourself even more to him and closed your eyes.

word count: 1.9k 🛁 posted: 12 • 17 • 2023

💬 a note from green;

Thank you so much for this request, Merin. This was such an unexpectedly healing experience for me, and I thank you for it. You’ve only made two requests, but I can tell you that I’ve grown to love when you do since you always ask for such touching topics that aren’t mentioned or discussed enough. So please, request however many times as you’d like!

I hope you’re doing well, and I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

( 🏷️ ) taglist: @grandpafelixx , @agi-ppangx

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❛ In which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ) ~7.2k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ There’s no schedule for my updates, but I mostly write when my fibromyalgia is kicking my ass. I hope you guys enjoy, Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression, reader has fibromyalgia, constant mentions of being in pain, love-making, cussing, lots of angst, MDNI.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: on going

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🦇 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝: 00 • 00 • 2024 🦇

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