Ohntrack

RASPBERRY PIE

minors dni. minho x fem!reader. 4k words content warnings. pet names (sweetheart, angel). mutual pining. sweet/shy reader. perv!minho. corruption kink. food play. dirty talk. oral (m rec.). soft!dom minho.

you bake your quiet neighbour a warm raspberry pie.

He's pretty sure he's utterly fucked from the jump – he finds himself attached so early he almost convinces himself you're a witch in disguise; that maybe he'd moved in next door to a creature designed to trap men like him. A siren, maybe. The sweetness was an act; all the soft tones and doe eyed looks were just a trick to lure him down beneath the waves.

He was determined not to drown.

And then you show up with the pie, a little flushed from working around a hot oven. It'd been 6 months – 6 months since he'd moved in, and as he opens the door to find you in an apron with little pink stains, a feeling of approaching and inevitable doom settles in his chest. Finally, you'd come to take him.

"Hi," you greet with a shy smile. "My friend brought me over far too many berries yesterday so..." you look down at the golden pie, carefully decorated and clearly still warm, "...well I made this. For you."

If he was wise, he'd politely decline, close the door, and never be faced with the reality of the sweet little siren in his apartment, offerings of temptation and all.

"For me?"

You look up at him through long lashes. "Do you like pie?" you ask. It's the way you say it, like if he doesn't you might genuinely hurt inside – like with a simple rejection of your offering, he had the ability to snuff out some little candle alight inside you.

"I like pie," he says.

Then you smile. Like it's the best news you've heard in weeks. "Oh, good."

He steps aside, his body betraying him. The siren enters with her warm pie and soft smiles – and he knows, unequivocally, that he's fucked.

He keeps his distance as you comfortably navigate to the kitchen to find a place for your offering. The apartments were all pretty much identical as far as he knew. The two on this floor, his and yours, were mirrored. He imagines that just on the other side of your joining wall, you took the same steps he did he each morning, in parallel.

You fiddle a little with the delicately placed raspberries atop the pie as he approaches from the other side of the island. You wear a tiny silver ring on one finger, much like one he wears on his own. He'd spotted it before, during short interactions in the elevator. He suppresses the urge to comment on it now, to ask if it meant anything to you.

He doesn't need to know you. He couldn't afford to. He was finding himself attached enough without it.

Then you pluck one little berry up in your fingers and bring it to your lips. He watches you. He watches you and he knows that he's walked willingly into a trap.

"Sweet?"

You look up. "Hm? Oh." You nod. "They're lovely. My friend gets them from this farm near his parent's place."

Friend. His. He sits in the feeling that stirs in his chest for a quiet moment. It's a rotten feeling. He doesn't like it at all.

"He brings them often?" he finds himself asking.

"Not at all. He just happened to come by after being there for a weekend. He doesn't go there often, I don't think." Your accompanying smile is almost enough to snuff out the rotten feeling before he has time to digest it. Almost.

Then he considers that this might not be the only pie. You may have made this other guy a pie just like it... maybe it was bigger, maybe you'd used the sweetest berries in his pie.

He kicks a cat toy across the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, a little embarrassed by his own internal monologue. Witchcraft, turning his brain into mush.

"You have a pretty view."

He looks up to find you brushing your hands down your apron and rounding the kitchen island. You seem drawn to his floor to ceiling windows, a little moth to the light.

He follows.

"Mine isn't nearly this nice," you continue once he's standing beside you. "All I get is the construction site and a concrete wall." Then you close your eyes, head tilting back a little to let the sun's afternoon rays bathe your face. "Don't get the sun like this, either," you add, a little dreaminess leaking into your already sweet voice.

Oh, he's fucked.

"You like it?"

You blink up at him, eyes adjusting to the light again. "Hm?"

"I mean if you really like it, you're welcome over anytime, whenever." He wonders if this is part of your spell work, making him say stupid shit. Maybe he'd be better off if you were casting spells on him, if he had a reasonable excuse for being so fucking braindead. "For the sun," he adds, like it makes it better.

A small breath of laughter slips from your pretty lips. "It does get a little gloomy over there, on my side of the wall."

It was hard to imagine anywhere you were being gloomy.

"I should go," you continue after a short moment of comfortable silence, each of you basking in the sunlight. He really should appreciate that more, he notes. Then he considers the fact he'll associate this little patch of warmth with you each time he attempts such a thing.

"Sure," he says, following you from a safe distance to the door. "Thank you. For the pie."

"You're welcome."

Everything is fine. He's alone and he survived the encounter. Then he's faced with the pie. He stares down at it, warm and made with careful hands.

He plucks a berry off the top. He thinks of the berry you'd eaten in the same way.

Everything is fine.

He hesitates as he goes to pluck a second berry. Instead of lifting one from the crust, he presses the tip of his finger a little against the surface. Warm. He breaks through. His finger is coated in syrupy, red filling when he pulls it free. It's sugary sweet when he sucks it clean.

Shame. That's what he feels next. Because sweet gestures of neighbourly kindness should not trigger the kind of thoughts creeping their way into his head.

He wonders if the little siren's cunt is as warm and sweet as the little offering she brought him. He considers doing the right thing, having a cold shower and sitting in the morning sun with a slice of pie.

But apparently, today, and the day before, and every day for the past 6 months, Minho was not wise and he wasn't very good. Because he let the thoughts of his sweet little neighbour stew for months, and this is where it'd led him.

He stands there, one palm pressed flat on the kitchen counter, the other buried in his sweatpants, and he thinks of the sweet little siren with her sweet offerings, and he imagines sinking his hard cock into her warm, sweet cunt.

—

It's hard not to deflate entirely as you close your apartment door behind you. You'd expected too much from a single pie, you suppose. It would entirely out of character for him to ask you to stay for a slice, to take the opportunity to finally have a conversation longer than an elevator ride.

You sigh, dropping your forehead against the cool surface of the door. It helps a little. You're overheated, both from the cooking, the warm sun, and the heat that had bubbled up from the inside as the pretty - yet frustratingly reserved - man next door had watched you move about his space.

You hadn't lied, his apartment was far nicer than yours. You could imagine basking in that patch of sun any chance you had. You wonder if he does the same, if he sits there after a shower, chest bare and hair still a little damp - letting the sun warm his skin.

You leap back as a knock on the door jolts you out of your daydream. Sighing, you press your palm to your forehead - head thoroughly rattled - as you pull the door open.

Oh.

"Hi," Minho says casually. He's a little flushed compared to when you'd left him minutes earlier. He shouldn't be. There were no stairs between your apartments.

"Hello, again."

He glances over your shoulder, getting a clear view of your empty living room. "It is darker in here," he says, still casual.

"Oh. Mm, yeah. I miss your sun already."

His eyes fix back on you. Then he pulls his lip between his teeth slightly. He has something to say... something he won't say.

"Why'd you make me the pie?" he asks.

You blink. "I... had a lot of berries from-"

"Your friend. I know."

You're officially confused. His eyes drop down your dirty apron before returning to your face. "You only made one?"

"Is it bad?" you question.

He pushes some hair away from his eyes. "No," he says quickly. "No, it's... nice." His eyes sweep down your body again. "Sweet," he adds.

"I only made one."

His eyes jump to yours before a brief look of confusion flashes across his pretty face. He seems to remember his own question soon enough. "You didn't want to give it to," he gestures vaguely behind you, "your friend?"

"No," you answer simply. This entire interaction was drifting into territory you weren't sure you were ready for. If his questions got any more interrogative, you might find yourself wondering how to answer them in any other way than 'Oh, the pie? I baked it for you because I have a huge, embarrassing crush on you, even if you've seemed intent on not knowing me.'

"He doesn't like pies?" he asks.

You can't help following the path of his fingers as he fiddles with the chain hanging around his neck. They brush his skin as he strokes the metal back and forth.

"I... don't understand what you're asking me," you say as you pull your eyes from his neck. "Is something wrong?"

He readjusts his position in the doorway, pressing his hand to the frame and freeing you from the constant distraction at his neck. He leans over you a little like this.

God, he's pretty.

"You a witch?" he asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Did you put something in it?" he continues, still leaning well and truly into your space. "Something to make me-" he cuts himself off, brows furrowing.

"Are you asking me if I poisoned the pie?"

His voice drops, like someone might overhear, despite you both being entirely alone on this floor of the building. "I'm trying to figure out why all I can fucking think about is how you might taste on my tongue."

Your head rushes, all the heat returning. Then your eyes drop to the floor.

"Look at me, sweetheart."

You don't. His shoes are safer. He was flirting. More than flirting. He wanted you.

His fingers guide your chin up, it doesn't take much, a nudge. "I'll leave if you want," he says. "Never mention it again. Just tell me what you want."

"Did you like it?" you find yourself whispering. "The pie."

His lips crack into a lopsided smile. It's tiny, but it's a smile. "Loved it, sweetheart. Sent me to heaven."

"Would you... would you like to come in?"

He nods.

You go to turn, to let him follow you. But then, instead, you take his hand and lead him in. He's warm. You imagine all the sun he gets over there must've absorbed deep inside him over time. Maybe he could leave some of it behind here for you - that heat might leak from him if your kept him here long enough.

He follows where you lead, his hand still grasped firmly in your own. You're not sure why you lead him to the sofa. You aren't sure what you're expecting next. It's why you find yourself simply standing beside the piece of furniture waiting for him to say something – to let go of your hand maybe.

Instead, his thumb begins brushing over your skin. He's quiet, seemingly unhurried to break the tension building.

"I asked my friend to bring the berries," you confess quietly, eyes focused on your interwined hands. Confessions were always so much easier with your eyes downwards. "I wanted to make something for you... specifically."

"Why's that?"

His thumb continues against your skin. He doesn't make you look at him like he had before.

"Because I... wanted you to - I wanted your attention."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, "So you baked me a pie?"

"I'm good at baking."

"You are," he agrees. Then his other hand reaches for the hem of your apron. He rubs it between his fingers a little. "Messy though."

You look down at the patterned splotches, pink on white. Then he releases your hand, taking that warmth with him. He only allows you a few seconds to miss it though. That same hand snakes around the back of your neck, skin on skin.

Your eyes are drawn to his without thought.

"Are you always messy?" he asks.

You nod, chewing on your lip a little.

He seems pleased with your answer, a small hum escaping his throat. "I like messy," he says, sounding a little far away. "Do you like messy, sweetheart?"

Your eyes drop to his lips, a little stained from your pie filling. "Yeah," you breathe.

He tugs you towards him before your have time to suck in another breath, attaching himself to you like he's starved. You can't help gasping a little into his mouth as he presses you into him with a hand to your back.

Holy fuck. Surely you'd wake up slumped against the door any second. Maybe someone hadn't just knocked on the door. Someone had opened it and knocked you out and you were dreaming about your pretty, brown eyed neighbour.

He groans a little before taking your lip between his teeth. No. No you were definitely awake. "So sweet," he mumbles as he releases you, his breath ghosting over your wet lips. "Can I have you?"

–

It's hard to keep his head on straight as you look up at him with those big sweet eyes. Can I have you? His stomach rolls as he waits for you to say yes. Please say yes. 6 months of denial and he was desperate.

You'd made that sweet little gift for him. Just for him. His little siren.

Then you're pressing against his chest, forcing him down onto the sofa. He looks up at you, at the stained apron and the hair sticking a little to your temples from the time spent making his pie.

Then you lower yourself to your knees.

Oh, fuck.

Your hands only have to brush his legs for him to get the hint. He spreads them, allowing you to shuffle closer to him – settling between his thighs.

Then you look up at him. "Can I taste you?"

He's keeping you. His head drops back as he collects himself. Then, "You want my cock in your pretty little mouth?"

You nod, fingers pressing lightly into his thighs.

Minutes ago he was fucking himself into his own hand imagining how warm you'd feel around him. Now you're between his legs, lips wet, asking to taste him.

He's careful to keep his eyes on you as he frees himself, intent on catching each and every reaction you make – he's keeping it all.

You're a little hesitant as you reach for him. "You're good, sweetheart," he encourages. "Touch me however you like."

It seems to be all you need. In the next second your soft little hand is wrapping around his length. His head drops back again as his eyes close.

It's a mistake, closing his eyes. He's not prepared when your wet lips press to the tip of him, soft and warm. He groans, hand automatically making a home in your hair. He needs grounding. He needs –

Your lips wrap around him. His little siren was sucking his dick into her sweet little mouth. His hips jump a little. "Oh fuck, that's right. You're all warm for me."

You hum a little around him. Then, you take him deeper. Hot little tongue dancing over his sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he groans. "Take it for me, sweetheart." He resists the urge to spill himself right here, right against your tongue. "Hm? You taking it for me?"

His hips jump again as he fucks himself into your hot mouth, wet and sweet and just for him. You'd wanted his attention. You'd come for him. Just him.

"You mine?" he gasps as he forces his head up to look at you. "You gonna let me fuck you?"

Your lips pull off him slowly, a little suction at his tip sending his head spinning. "Do you want to?" you ask, lips swollen.

He leans forward enough to begin lifting you, encouraging you to climb into his lap. Each hand rests at your hips as you settle yourself there, his leaking cock pressed between you.

"So bad," he answers.

You shift a little in his lap. He imagines you squirming on his cock.

"Me too," you confess. It's quiet, like it's bad.

Sweet siren.

"Sit on me," he instructs. "Want you to bounce on me, sweetheart."

You eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, processing, deciding. Then you shift, reaching up under your dress and tugging your underwear down.

Something in his stomach stirs when he realises you were leaving the rest on, apron and all.

You grasp him in a soft hand, guiding him beneath your clothes – then you sink down. He's transfixed by the little sound that escapes your lips as you take him in. That, and the way your cunt feels squeezing around him. He might have to keep you for fucking ever.

Hot and sweet and wet and better than he'd imagined as he'd fucked himself against his counter minutes earlier. Better than any of the scenarios he'd dreamed up over the months he'd spent thinking of his sweet little neighbour.

You fall into him with a sigh once you're full seated, cock buried deep.

"Doing so well," he says, hand squeezing a little at the back of your neck.

You mumble something into his neck in response. He can't quite make it out, but he swears, it almost sounds like a tiny 'thank you'. He has to keep himself from filling you at the thought of it.

His hands return to your hips. You must take it as a prompt because you lean back from him enough to begin lifting yourself off him and dropping again.

It's slow at first, a little swivel in your hips, grinding yourself down into him.

The apron prevents him from seeing how his cock looks slipping in and out of your little cunt. He hasn't even seen it, that sweet little hole between your legs.

Instead, he feels.

–

It makes sense that a man as pretty as him would have the prettiest cock. One you wanted to taste. One that would have you slippery and ready to take him.

There's this vein that throbs in his neck each time he drops his head back with a groan. His neck. God you want to lean forward and bite into it. But he might not be into that. Next time, you think. Or the time after that.

God you hope there's a next time.

His fingers dig into your hip as you sink all the way down again. It feels a little like he's resisting, holding back.

"Minho?"

His head lifts, eyes a little glassy as he blinks at you. "Hm?"

"You can fuck me," you tell him. "However you want. I want you to fuck me."

He blinks again. His fingers dig into your skin harder.

"Tell me when you wanna stop. Just tell me," he says.

You nod. Then he's leaning forward and tugging you against him. His lips press to your skin just at the crook of your neck.

Then you're falling. He falls over you. Then he lets go. He presses you into the couch cushions as he drives into you, hair falling over his face. He's even pretty like this, with parted lips and brows slightly furrowed.

Your skin slaps together as he fucks himself into you. Messy, he'd said. He liked messy.

That's what he gets as he continutes to drive into you, as you begin to drip around him, as he fucks that wetness into you and over your thighs and then the sounds it all makes.... messy.

"Wanna fill you," he mutters. "God, I wanna fill you so bad. Wanna fuck my cum into your sweet cunt."

You squeeze your eyes shut as he continues, overwhelmed.

"You can take it for me, angel. I know you can. Sweet little thing made just for me. I knew it." He's muttering so much you're hardly sure he even knows what he's saying. His fingers are almost painful as they dig into your skin, like he can't hold onto you hard enough.

"Fill me," you gasp.

He eyes lift from where you join together to lock on your face. "Yeah?" he asks, a slight croakiness breaking his words up a little. "I'll make you all warm and sticky inside, hm? Just like your pretty little pie? That sound nice?"

Oh god. There was something inside you, something made for this – for him. You knew this was going to ruin you forever.

"Please."

He falls over you, then he bites. He bites into you as he floods you full.

© 🍠 | do not edit and/or crop logo

however you want it, lover-lover

pairing: bang chan x afab!reader

warnings: 🔞!!!! bang christopher chan’s never-ending shame and embarrassment, angst (? kinda maybe if you squint), masturbation (m!), cunnilingus, rimming (f!rec), unprotected sex, foot stuff (chan puts his foot on ur head when he fucks you in doggy), daddy kink, dirty talk

a/n: eeeeeep surprise! another commission!! thank u again to the sweetheart who commissioned this! the only specifications were about chan putting his foot on your head during doggy & the “step on me” comment, thank you for giving me creative liberty on everything else, i had so much fun with this!! <3

“step on me.” 

it’s the first thing you’ve said in probably thirty minutes. you and chan are busy doing absolutely nothing, both on your phones and relaxing together on your couch on his odd day off. 

“ste- aha! what? jesus, what are you saying?” 

“step on me! look at this tiktok.” 

you hand him your phone, and chan immediately groans and looks up at the ceiling when he lays eyes on the newest tiktok edit you’ve been watching for the past two minutes straight. at least two minutes. he’s going to have this song stuck in his head for the rest of the day thanks to you. 

no diggity. flashes of sweat-slicked abs, slitted eyes, and a sharp jawline that have you kicking your feet and biting your lip next to him. 

“don’t- don’t look at it like that. i don’t look like that,” chan complains. he tugs on his earlobe; the skin is flushed pink. 

“you’re so fucking hot. that part! wait, go back, that part. that- right there. i’m getting horny.” you push into his space on the couch, knees pressed close to his muscular thighs, using your finger to point dramatically at the phone still clasped in chan’s loose grip. he almost shrieks when the clip of him lifting up his shirt rolls around again, an embarrassed grin on his face while he rolls his hips to the beat. “that! oh my god, i love these guys.” you pat his stomach. 

“why are you watching these? this is so embarrassing,” chan mumbles. he lets you snatch your phone from his hand without fuss. 

“edits of my sexy boyfriend? are you joking? i have a whole folder of them, look.” 

you’re not kidding, chan comes to find. you really do have a tiktok folder filled with hundreds of spicy edits of him. you add this one to the folder and hand your phone back to him, curling up beside him tightly with your arms wrapped around one of his so that you can go through them together. 

countless edits later, you can feel the heat radiating off of your tomato-red boyfriend. the last straw doesn’t even come from a particularly scandalous edit, just the song attached to it. 

“oh gosh, not-! not daddy’s home, i can’t handle this!” 

“whaaat?! what! what, come on, that one’s so good! you were so hot in that suit you wore at kcon!” 

chan drops your phone into his lap and fake cries into his palms while you shake his shoulders with your hands, the chorus of daddy’s home still playing ridiculously in the background. 

“you’re so red right now i feel like you’re going to explode or something.” 

you fan him aggressively with your hands, and chan tugs at the thick neck of his hoodie to circulate some air to his equally-as-red chest. 

“i think i could. stays are, um, haha! stays are really, really good at edits. those transitions were kinda crazy.” 

“‘how many letters is bang chan?’” you read, picking your phone back up from his lap and pausing the video to scroll through the comments. “‘we must stay focused brothers.’” 

chan leans into you again and grabs the corner of your phone to angle it towards him so he can read the funny comments with you. he’s cute, embarrassed and sweetly shy from seeing his own body and hard work be made a spectacle of. your man is a pro-idol indeed, the confident lip bites, shirt lifts, and grinding hips come easy to him on stage, but chan off-stage would prefer to curl up in a ball and cover his ears at the mere mention of a compliment. 

“‘step on me, king,’” he reads. “what- what does that even mean? no, i don’t wanna know. you guys are insane!” his lips quirk down, contemplative. you giggle at the way his eyes dart back and forth quickly like he’s really trying to figure out the mystery of someone wanting to be stepped on by him. 

“it’s just, like, an internet thing? people probably don’t even really mean it, it’s like a reflex to say when someone’s super hot. well, no, i lied. people definitely mean it with you.” 

before you can explain your case further, chan grabs you around the shoulders and pulls you to his chest in a rough bear hug. your nose is smushed against his abdomen, and you’d bite down if you knew you’d get anything other than the thick fabric of his hoodie in your mouth. 

“whaddya mean people definitely mean it with me, huh?!” 

you love when he gets like this, playful and silly and uninhibited. cute. his face flushes petal pink at the attention, the compliments and praise make him want to shrivel up, but he wants to hear them from you regardless. he craves it. 

“y’re hot, goober,” comes your muffled reply. chan has mercy on you and lets you up from his grasp, he even smooths out your now frizzy hair. it’s not until your legs are thrown across his lap and you’re nestled into the corner of the couch that he speaks again. 

“did- i mean, did you mean it? like- you’d want me to? step… on you? or something?” 

your comment started off as a little joke, something so completely unserious, but at the same time, it’s not like you have to put much thought into it. you’ve watched porn, you’ve watched hardcore porn when you were in the mood for it, and there’s something in particular that you are mighty keen on trying out in bed with chan as long as he’d be comfortable doing it with you.

“yeah, like. like, wouldn’t it be kinda hot? if you fucked me from behind and put your foot on my head to hold me down?”

chan cocks his head like he’s not expecting you to answer so seriously, blinking rapidly as he takes in what you said. he’s the perfect partner, the perfect lover in bed and out, there’s truly not much you could ask him for that he wouldn’t go out of his way to do, but this might be the exception based on the sour look on his face.

“don’t- don’t make me feel bad! is it weird? maybe it’s kinda weird.” 

“hey! hey hey hey, no, bug. c’mere.” chan tugs on your ankle until you’re curled up next to him again. he wraps a strong arm around you, settling the other one under the tuck of your legs so he can cradle you close. “i didn’t mean to make you feel bad. you know how i am about my feet, yeah? they’re so… flat.” 

he mutters the word flat like it’s a curse, like he’s disgusted with himself. chan nitpicks himself like it’s his job, and he’s the chairman of the company. his nose is too big, his feet are too flat. why is his bum so big and his arms not big enough? he focuses on every single detail of his physical being until they drive him crazy, but you’re helping him work on it, a slow but sure process. what may be small details to you are not small details to chan, it’s important for you to remember. 

“don’t be mean to my channie.” you bonk your forehead against his. “i think it would be hot. just- it’s just another way you can have me, you know? get me on my knees for you and push my head into the mattress when you fuck me, and if i move too much you just put your foot on my head to keep me in place. tell me to be good and take it.” 

you press your legs together at the thought, and chan rubs a gentle hand up your thigh. an even gentler smile graces his pretty lips, he can tell by how squirmy you’re becoming that you’re getting worked up.

“is that what you like about it? that i can keep you in place?” 

that’s only part of it. you don’t want that from just anyone, you want it from chan. chan makes you crave submission in a way you never have before because you trust and love him so wholly. chan takes you to the moon and gives you the stars while you’re there. you tell him all of this, and his fingers make their way between your closed legs.

“let me think on it, yeah?” he whispers. “just let me think about it.”

he can’t stop thinking about it.

he’s already naked, didn’t bother changing into clothes after a quick shower, and his cock is drooling on the thick planes of his abs. 

chan likes being dominant. chan loves being dominant, in fact. there’s something so special about taking you apart and putting you back together again. it’s cathartic to him, and he knows it is for you too, but sometimes the vast clashing of chan’s shameshameshame and wantwantwant is hard to navigate. 

what kind of man is he that fantasizes about debasing you like that? you deserve to be treasured. you’re his queen, he should treat you as such, how could he even think about something like this? 

nevertheless, the thought lingers. 

your hands pinned against your back by his veiny ones. his cock, hot and heavy, drilling into the sweet heat of your precious cunt. you’d be crying, he’s ashamed to think, begging for your daddy to fuck you harder, give you more. 

chan licks his palm. his balls are tight when he fondles them, squeezing the wrinkled skin in a rough hold. he hisses through his teeth when he traces his middle finger a little lower, rubbing slowly at the sensitive skin of his taint just like you do for him. 

“baby, fuck.” his words are whispered, drowned out by the clapping of sweaty skin and your delicious moans that his mind conjured up. a dirty movie just for his viewing. 

he finally takes hold of his cock, knobby fingers curling around the head and soothing downwards to spread precum down his length. chan’s hips raise into his grip at the same time you fuck yourself back on him in his fantasy. 

“my pussy feels so goo-o-od, daddy,” your voice says. it’s frantic, mumbled pathetically due to the fact that your cheek is squished against the mattress. the force of his thrusts shunts your body up towards the headboard, but you’re held in place by chan’s strong grip. 

he slows down, and it pulls a pathetic sob from your lips. chan pulls his cock almost all the way from your cunt before slowly, so slowly, sliding back inside balls deep. you quake when his balls mash tight against your swollen clit, the feeling of his cock so deep inside is so overwhelming that you struggle to get your arms up under you so that you can scramble uselessly up the bed. 

“don’t run, don’t fucking run, take what i give you, yeah?” 

chan manhandles you back by the hips until he’s pressed all the way inside again, and that’s when he swings his leg around. even in his fantasy, he can feel the texture of your pretty hair and the heat radiating from your face. 

the scene in his head makes chan throw an arm over his face while his other hand speeds up on his cock. he’s so wet now that his fist makes a slick noise every time it moves, the tip of his dick a leaky faucet. if anyone were to walk by his door there’s no doubt what he’s getting up to. 

“daddy?!” you cry, gasping. your hands scramble to grip at the sheets. 

“stay still. stay right there, baby, i don’t wanna hurt you,” he grunts. it takes a moment to get his rhythm going again, not used to this position, but he’s a quick learner. he can feel the way you try to nod your head under the weight of his foot, and it’s so sweet the way your breath catches in your throat. 

if he were any meaner he’d press his foot against you rougher, mess up your hair so it tangles and sticks to your teary, ruddy cheek. 

“so good, sweetie, you’re doing so good.”

“so good, sweetie, you’re doing so good,” chan whispers aloud. if he keeps his eyes closed and focuses on the pictures in his head, it’s almost like he can feel the tight grip of your little cunt on his cock instead of his fist. 

“‘m doing so good,” you whimper. “c’n i cum for you, please? please can i cum, daddy? daddydaddydaddy.” your fingers wrap around his ankle and - 

chan cums with a choked groan. his almond eyes flutter open as sticky cum oozes in ropes against his taut, heaving abs. he slows the speed of his fist but continues touching himself until his hips are kicking in overstimulation. 

he lays there for a moment and focuses on the cum cooling onto his abdomen, refusing to acknowledge the dregs of embarrassment yet that are creeping into his relaxed state of mind. did he really just get off to that? did he really just get off to a perverted fantasy about stepping on the love of his life? 

all of a sudden, like the angel you are, your voice cuts through his thoughts. a beacon of light, a lone lighthouse in the fog of his stormy sea. funnily enough, you had mentioned this after a particularly frenzied round of sex, and he’s never forgotten it. 

don’t let your shame get in the way of something you think you might really enjoy. 

you’re almost bouncing in his lap when he finally tells you he’s down to try it. your excitement is palpable, and he can’t help but smile with you. 

the both of you are nearly naked when he tosses you on your bed and climbs on top of you. you can’t help but wriggle, the only thing that’s left on your body is your pants. 

“you gonna be rough with me, channie?” you ask, coy. he doesn’t grace you with an answer, but he does flip you onto your stomach before crawling down the bed and slowly easing your pants down. he stops before he pulls them all the way down your ass, pausing to press heated kisses to the fat of your cheeks. 

“lift up on your knees, baby. yeah, ‘s good,” chan coaxes. with your pants still bunched up under your ass, he helps you situate yourself on your knees. he was expecting for you to rise onto your palms too, but your upper body remains flat against the mattress. your ass is presented to him on a platter. he tugs your pants down further so that they’re stuck around your thighs. 

you sigh at the first touch of his warm tongue to your cunt. he eats you out like he’s ravenous, shaking his head against you to get his tongue deeper while his hands grip your asscheeks to keep you steady. you know he likes to be smothered like this, the meat of your pussy lips bracketing his tongue so you’re all he can taste, all he can smell. 

he left your pants around your thighs for a reason; you can’t spread your legs like you want. you squirm, whining pitifully in your throat while your movements are restricted, and chan just huffs a smug laugh against your sloppy wet pussy. 

chan pulls away for a moment to hook two bony fingers in your clenching hole, kissing your thighs and your asscheeks as he makes his way somewhere else. 

your mouth opens in a silent moan, chin quivering and eyebrows furrowing when chan sucks a wet kiss onto your asshole. 

“o-oh, chan, channie,” you finally moan, and he responds with his own. his fingers fuck you with precision while his tongue circles the furl of your littlest hole until he pulls away to speak. 

“‘s not my name,” he mumbles. his ears heat up. 

“christopher. chris? chris, you’re so good to me.” a whine, pitched high and needy. 

“one more try, baby. you know what my name is, yeah?” 

he curls his two fingers deliciously in your pussy and returns his mouth to your asshole, flicking rapidly and then sucking around the pucker in a messy kiss. his lips smack against you so perfectly that your brain nearly shuts off. 

“da- daddy! daddy, you’re my daddy,” you cry, legs still uselessly fighting against the waist of your pants to try and spread yourself for him. chan grips your wrist and presses it to your lower back when your hand flies back to attempt to spread your ass open. 

“yeah. yeah. that’s right, baby. and i’m- daddy’s gonna fuck you now, okay?” 

he pulls your pants the rest of the way off and you’re presenting yourself again like it’s your favorite thing to do. face down, ass up, ready and waiting for him. chan doesn’t waste anymore time before he mounts you, pressing his hands to the arch of your back and making it bow deeper as he sheaths himself inside your warmth. 

“big- big cock, daddy.” 

“big ‘cause you like it like that.” 

he’s right, your daddy’s dick is big and you love it. 

he waits until you’re relaxing into the sheets to start a cruel pace, leaning over your back to brush his fingers through your hair while he works his hips. his mind is almost blissfully blank, the only voice in his head telling him to fuck you better, fuck you like you deserve, give you what you asked for. 

it almost happens like it did in his fantasy, a particularly deep thrust sends you scrambling up the bed and rubbing frantically at your pulsing clit while he follows behind you. 

“no no no, don’t. stay still, just take it. i’m not done yet, yeah? you’ve gotta- gotta be good and take it.”  

it’s not nearly as smooth as it was in his head, nothing ever is and probably never will be, but he successfully swings his leg around and plants his foot on your head. his hamstring burns, thighs quivering for a moment before he takes a deep breath and thrusts himself fully inside again. 

“ohmygoddaddy,” you wheeze. “oh my god, daddy! oh my god, oh fuck.” he can feel the way your cunt clenches on him frantically. chan stays frozen for a moment, waiting for you to kick at him or whimper out your safeword, but neither come. he feels your pretty hair under the sole of his foot, feels the heat radiating from your sweaty skin. “please, that’s so fucking hot! you’re so fucking hot.” 

your voice is throaty and desperate, and it sends chan into a frenzy. 

chan lifts up on his knee so he can fuck you harder, hovering over your back and planting both hands beside your shoulder. it’s a stretch, but he finds that he likes it. he fucks you like a dog, hips rutting roughly and leg hiked up so he can push your face into the mattress with his foot just like you wanted. 

“such a- hah, haaaah, pretty mess for me,” chan moans. his chest is flushed pink with exertion. he’s used to it flushing pink with embarrassment, but there’s no embarrassment or shame to be found here, not today. “pretty mess on my cock. love you. baby, love you.” 

if he looked down, there’d be a sweet ring of cream around his cock, your pussy so sloppy wet and creamy that you’ve left your mark on him. 

you’re being fucked so hard your head should be bobbing with the movement, but you’re held firmly in place by chan’s foot. you whimper when he adjusts his stance and his heel presses into the plush of your sweat-sticky cheek. 

“daddy, da- daddy. daddy,” you repeat. you just want to say his name. chan can see your face clearly from where he’s hovering above you and slightly to the side. you can barely keep your eyes open, and they’re swimming when you do, gaze loopy and delirious. you’re drooling against the mattress, lips open and plump and squished slightly from the weight of his foot on your precious cheek. 

“what does daddy need to do?” he breathlessly asks. “are you still with me, sweetheart?”

you rush to answer, tongue heavy and words slurring when you tell him that you’re “right here with you, daddy.” 

it takes everything in him not to growl like a damn animal. you’re so fucked out on his cock that he’ll never forget it, so perfect and dirty and darling. he can already feel his heavy balls tightening when they slap against your clit, he’s so ready to feed you full of all his cum, but he has to get you there first. you’re squeezing his cock so tight that he knows it won’t take much more. 

“fuck. fuck, whose hole is this? tell me whose it is.” 

“‘s your hole, daddy. daddy’s hole. just- just yours. do you like it?” you ask him so sweetly he has to giggle, and all you can do is whine. chan’s arms almost give out when your fingers wrap around his ankle and stroke lightly at the skin. 

“baby, i love it. love this pussy, love everything about you, nnnuh, come on. come on, do it. cum for me. daddy’s s-so proud of you, you’re perfect.” 

you almost dislodge him when you cum, shivering so hard in pleasure that your body starts to buck. chan lifts his foot from your head and ignores the ache in his thigh in favor of holding you in his arms while you cum, hips still thrusting so he can help you ride it out. 

“you too, cum in me, please? please, daddy. i want your cum so bad.” your eyes are almost rolling in your head, but you pucker your lips for a kiss and chan’s gone. 

he turns your head so he can lick inside of your mouth. your pulsating pussy still milking him for all he’s worth, he’d be crazy not to give it to you. he cums with a loud groan, so loud that it’s hardly muffled by the smacking of your lips, and he stills inside of you. chan can feel his thigh shaking against the back of yours. 

you’re a little out of it, he can tell. you coo sadly when his softening cock slips out of you as he slowly rolls you onto your back, but your lips quirk up in a loopy smile when he cups your cheeks in his hands to help you focus your gaze on him. 

“my heart. look at me? gosh, you’re so fucking pretty.” 

your lashes flutter, and chan smiles. 

— 10:12 PM

this post contains; smut [threesome—minho + changbin. d/s dynamics—they're kinda hard doms. tears. facefucking. spit-roasting. spit play. cumplay. very light degradation—only once. ear licking?—once. slight exhibition(?)—taking pictures/recording] mention of wearing make-up. 823 words

💌 this is rlly just a filthy little drabble idk what else to say about it. hope someone out there likes it! not edited—forgive me for my sins 🛐

“Take a picture, Changbin,” Minho hisses.

Minho, who's fucking into you from behind, reaches over and hooks his fingers into your mouth; holding your mouth open wide and using the leverage to pull you up slightly. As Changbin walks over to you, phone in hand, you stick out your tongue for him. If it hadn’t been for Minho’s fingers pulling your mouth open, you would have been smiling widely at Changbin, eager and ready to welcome whatever he chooses to give you. 

Changbin smiles at you, bending over slightly to spit onto your tongue. And as his spit drips down your tongue, he snaps a few pictures. 

“Bet you look so fucking slutty. A fucking mess,” Minho grunts out, almost in a whisper. 

He’s right—what a mess you are: there’s spit covering your chin, and the eye makeup you had on runs down your cheeks from the large number of tears you’ve cried. The shirt you’re wearing is pulled down, exposing your breasts and your panties are pulled to the side—material nearly ripping at the stretch as Changbin had been far too impatient; but hey, at least he didn’t rip a hole in your leggings like the last time.

“Stay just like that,” Changbin groans out, hand wrapped tightly around his cock. His phone tossed to the side and completely forgotten about at this point.

Minho's fingers stretch your mouth open wider, allowing for Changbin to slide his cock into it. Changbin holds you by the sides of your head, near your temples, and thrusts his cock completely into your mouth. Nose brushing against him, tickling you as you choke around him. It doesn’t help that Minho is fucking you in the most ruinous way—completely using you, fucking you on and off of his cock, but also meeting you halfway with full thrusts. 

All of that makes you gag around Changbin, feeling the tip of his cock repeatedly nudge against the back of your throat. He slides out of you, slapping his cock on your tongue before sliding back in and burying his length inside your throat once again. Somehow, Minho and Changbin match their thrusts into you; when one pulls out, the other slides back in, not giving you a moment to think properly, not that you would want to, anyway. 

It doesn’t take much for Changbin to cum, relishing in the feeling of your mouth around him. His grunts get louder as he cums, ending in a few soft whines, which cause him to blush a little. He pulls out, hand squeezing the remaining few spurts of cum out of his cock and onto your face. Then, from behind you, Minho takes his fingers out of your mouth—a hand around your throat with the other freely rubbing Changbin’s cum into your face. 

Minho turns your head to the slide, slightly, puckering his lips to spit onto yours, rubbing it all in even more. Changbin plays his part too, of course, continuing to snap a few more pictures of your face and the new mess he helped create. And without being told, Changbin makes his way behind the two of you, clicking record in the process—pictures simply won’t do enough justice.

The scene from behind is just as messy as your face, if not, messier. Minho’s balls, covered and dripping in cum—probably a mixture of yours and a previous load from Changbin—slapping against your cunt as he drives himself into you. Changbin doesn’t care too much about that though, no, he cares more about your dripping cunt and how well you suck Minho in, wishing it was his dick instead. 

And while Changbin records, kneeling to get the best angle, he strokes his cock with his free hand. Squeezing his fist around his throbbing cock and occasionally swiping his thumb over the tip. The scene before him, along with the sound of your moans and the feeling of his hand around his cock are all enough to get him close to coming again. 

Meanwhile, Minho continues fucking into you, pressing soft little kisses against your skin because he knows you like it when he does that. He knows you like it when he’s rough with you, still sparing a few seconds to be soft—and if you deny how much you like it, he just laughs, the way your pussy flutters around him completely told on you. 

And once that fire rises in the pit of your stomach, you refuse to harbor it within you, letting yourself completely unravel around Minho’s cock at the same time Changbin cums into his hand— your moans and exhales of relaxation rival Changbin’s grunts. It doesn’t take long for Minho to slow down his movements, stilling inside of you, continuing to pressing kisses against your shoulder until he reaches your ear. 

“You can cum once more, can’t you?” Minho asks, licking the lobe of your ear.

This will be a long night for the three of you.

© PLANETDREAM 2022

𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ; 𝐬𝐜𝐛

this is part of my binnie month collab with @httpdwaekki ♡

ash's masterlist ; ash's fic ♡

my masterlist

🏷️: @giddyfatherchris ; @lurking-coconut ; @thatonexcgirl ; @bowsnbang ; @strawbini ; @nyang3racha ;

[afab!reader. an annoying guy at a club approaches the reader but nothing happens. size kink i guess? because reader is obsessed with changbin's big arms. strength kink i guess for the same reason. changbin fucks reader in a headlock. unprotected piv sex. clit play. choking if you squint but not really. creampie. not edited so bare with me if there are typos.]

—

Changbin saw you standing in front of a mirror with an unamused look on your face. He circled your waist with his arm and pressed a kiss on the back of your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?”

You snorted. “I don’t know, I’m not sure I like this outfit.” 

Changbin was confused, because that was a really good outfit. “Why not?” He recognised the skirt you were wearing, and remember how excited you were the day you’d bought it. “You were head over heels about this skirt. It looks so good on you, baby, there’s nothing wrong with this outfit.” 

He was being sincere, looking at you absolutely starstruck. The outfit you’d chosen literally made his mouth water — the skirt was hugging your body beautifully, and the same thing could be said about the top you were wearing — nobody loved your body more than Changbin, always touching you whenever he could. Now, Changbin was no fashion expert, but he seriously couldn’t tell what was wrong with the clothes you’d chosen — he thought you looked like a goddess in that skirt and top.

“Isn’t it a little too… short, though?” You hummed unamused, not fully convinced. 

The truth was — you loved the outfit and thought it looked really good, you were just scared it was too revealing and that Changbin would feel uncomfortable going out with you dressed like that, especially since you were going to a club with his friends and their girlfriends.  

“It looks stunning. You look stunning. Wear whatever you want, baby,” Changbin kissed your temple, “I can fight.” 

He meant it as a joke, flexing his muscles right after to brighten your mood. He was probably unaware of the effect his big, strong, buff arms had on you. Changbin’s muscles turned you on like crazy and you never missed an occasion to touch them, squeeze them, bite them. He found it cute that you were so obsessed with his arms, but you found it incredibly hot. 

You went out in that outfit, feeling safe with Changbin by your side. 

—

Changbin could see you were uncomfortable, and that’s why he started to walk in your direction slowly, so that he could witness with his eyes and ears what was going on with that guy who decided it was okay to approach you while you’d gone to get a drink for you and Changbin. He couldn’t hear much with the music blasted through the speakers, but he knew you, and he knew you’d only toy with your fingernails when you were uncomfortable. 

“Is everything alright?” Changbin cleared his throat. 

The guy turned around and gave Changbin an annoyed look. “Yup. We’re just talking.” 

Changbin didn’t like the way the stranger looked at you from head to toe, his stare lingering a bit too long on your exposed thighs. 

“Can’t you see that she’s uncomfortable?” Changbin asked him. “I think you should go.” 

The guy clenched his jaw annoyed. “And I think you should mind your business.” 

Changbin was starting to lose it. As soon the guy turned around, Changbin grabbed him by the collar, grip not too tight as to hurt him, only working as a warning. 

“Listen to me,” Changbin muttered through gritted teeth, “leave her alone or we’re gonna have problems.” 

The boy fully turned to face Changbin, acting all tough and brave. “Problems? What are you gonna do, huh?” He insisted, insulting Changbin once more.

“How about I’ll fly you out the window?”

The guy was well aware that Changbin was much stronger than he was, and that’s probably why he eventually gave up, muttering something you could not comprehend as he walked away from you. Changbin didn’t expect you to latch your arms around his neck and pull him in for a heated kiss. 

“You’re so— you’re so hot. My saviour. My big boy,” you bit his lower lip. “Look at these,” you squeezed his biceps, “I love these arms. My favourite arms in the world.” 

Changbin chuckled because what you just said didn’t make sense, how could someone have favourite arms? It made sense to you, however, and Changbin’s were hands down your favourite. They made you feel safe and protected always, and they looked so irresistibly hot on him and you were weak for him. 

“Let’s go back to the guys.” But you pulled him by the wrist, shaking your head. “You don’t wanna go back?”

You shook your head once more. Then, you whispered in his ear, “you’re so hot, Binnie. My Binnie. ‘M so desperate for you, baby. Need you.” And again, “Wan’ you to put these big arms in use. Wan’ you to put me in a headlock and fuck me until I can’t walk tomorrow.” 

Changbin choked on his own spit. “Wha—? What? Baby, princess, are you drunk?”

You shook your head and he remembered that, in fact, the two of you hadn’t had a single drink ever since you stepped inside the club. 

“Nope. Not drunk. Just really desperate for my strong boyfriend,” you pouted at him.

Changbin didn’t give in when you tried to pull him into the club’s restrooms. He didn’t want to fuck you in a dirty, public bathroom with the risk of strangers coming in and catching you right in the act, let alone seeing you naked. He didn’t give in when you tried to convince him to fuck in the backseats of his car — too uncomfortable. He chuckled and pecked your lips, whispering something that sounded like “patience, baby. Let’s get home first and then I’ll fuck you all night long.”

—

It was a miracle Changbin even got the passcode to his house right since he typed it without looking, too busy making out with you against the door to care. You stumbled inside his place clumsily, struggling to take your shoes off without pulling away from the kiss, but you had no time to waste right now. You craved each other. 

Changbin started kissing your neck, leaving openmouthed kisses all over your skin, kisses that felt a bit sticky due to your lipgloss that he was now smearing all over your body. “Changbin— Binnie, bedroom, please,” you sighed with desperation. 

Changbin lifted your body effortlessly, and you bit your lip at the sight of his flexed muscles, not missing the opportunity to squeeze them under your fingers, leaving a few red marks with your fingernails all over his arms, marks that you were going to leave kisses all over. 

“You’re so hot, do you know that?” You mumbled on his lips, clenching your legs around his waist as he kicked the bedroom door open. “So fucking… big and buff and… and mine. My big boy.” 

Changbin responded with a low grunt. 

“You were so hot… back in the club…” you gasped in between hot kisses and licks. “So fucking hot… the way you talked to that guy… ugh, the way you flexed your muscles…”

“Hmm, you really like when I do that, don’t you?” He smirked.

Changbin figuratively threw you onto his bed, kneeling right between your legs and flexing his muscles to tease you. You pushed yourself up on your elbows to witness the sight better, then bit your lip so hard you could almost taste blood in your mouth. Changbin was rock hard inside his boxers the same way your panties were entirely wet. 

“I wasn’t kidding back at the club,” you looked at him through your eyelashes, “I really want you to put me in a headlock and fuck me dumb.” 

A timid blush appeared on Changbin’s cheeks. What you just told him was so different than anything else you were used to doing in bed. Changbin was always romantic and never ever rough with you, not even when you explicitly asked him to he’d been able to fully let go. Seeing you so desperate over the mere sight of his arms, though… 

You don’t remember how or when you found the time to undress yourselves, but you eventually found yourselves naked and with Changbin’s fingers between your legs. “What are you doing?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“Prepping you?” He returned the confused stare. He always prepped you.

“Changbin, if you don’t pin me down this bed and fuck me stupid within the next three seconds you and I are going to have problems.” 

Something inside him switched. However, he still wasn’t going to fuck you without the tiniest bit of prepping, so he figured lube was the second best option. He squeezed a generous amount onto his cock, then his gingers, then looked you in the eye. 

“You really want me to pin you down and fuck you stupid?” 

“Very much,” you returned the challenging stare.

Changbin cupped one of your asscheeks and squeezed the flesh into his hand. “Turn over. Face down, ass up.”

You obeyed. Turned around to glare at him when, once again, you felt his fingers between your legs, impatient to feel him already and not wanting to waste your time with foreplay. 

“Changbin—”

“I’m just spreading the lube. Behave,” he spanked you jokingly. 

“Why don’t you make me behave?” You challenged him. 

The next thing you knew, you were pressed onto the mattress with Changbin’s body pressed on yours. His arm circling your neck tight enough to keep your head in place but not as tight as to suffocate you, of course, you could breathe just fine in this position. 

“That what you wanted, huh?” He whispered in your ear. 

Goosebumps all over your skin at the sound of Changbin’s lust-filled voice. His other arm hugged your waist so that your hips were slightly lifted from the mattress, enough to grant him access to where you needed him the most. He rubbed himself on your pussy just to tease you, ready to slip inside any moment. 

You nodded, truly desperate to feel him. “Mhh yeah,” you whined, “wanted you like this, Binnie.” 

And he melted at the pet name, pressing his tip inside and then filling you up wholly, taking your breath away. He wasn’t excessively big — more girth than length for sure, but from this specific angle he was entering you in, he felt much bigger inside of you, filling you up perfectly until all you could feel was him, until he filled all your senses. He pressed a kiss on your shoulder. 

“Love you so much,” you rambled on, already cockdrunk as he started to push inside of you slowly, rolling his hips to meet the skin of your ass. “Love everything about you.” 

“But you love my arms a bit more, don’t you?” Changbin joked, whispering the words in your ear as he tightened the grip around your neck the tiniest bit, checking you were alright right after and relaxing once he made sure you could  still breathe just fine.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your skull with the next thrust. Your hair was stuck all over your forehead and face and Changbin was fucking you so good he was making you see stars. You clenched around him. 

“Are you close, baby?” Changbin asked, and you nodded, unable to speak properly. 

From this position, he couldn’t rub your clit, but you also didn’t want him to move at all because he was hitting all the good spots inside of you.

“Harder… tighter…” you mumbled incoherently, and somehow Changbin got the message.

He fucked you harder, allowing your clit to repeatedly brush on the soft covers of Changbin’s bed, and flexed his muscles harder, consequently tightening the grip around your neck. With a moan and a choked gasp of his name, you finally managed to reach your high — body shaking and trembling, toes curling, fingers fisting the sheets beneath you. Changbin continued to fuck you, determined to chase his own orgasm before you felt overstimulated. He pressed his forehead on the nape of your neck and rolled his hips harder. 

“Binnie—”

He came inside of you, biting down your skin to muffle the sounds that fell from his lips. He softened inside of you, and effortlessly rolled the both of you over onto the mattress until you were resting on top of him. 

“Missed seein’ your cute face,” he smiled at you, pulling your hair from your face. He pressed his lips on yours. 

“Missed my favourite cheeks,” you poked his cheek, returning the smile. 

“Favourite cheeks, favourite arms… seems like you’re obsessed with me or something,” he jokingly rolled his eyes, then bursted out in a contagious laugh. He hugged you closer, and you rested your head on his chest, lulled by his heartbeat. You wrapped your arms around his torso and squeezed him.

“You’re my favourite.”

—

-> 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬! "𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧", 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝.