Sharing = Caring

sharing = caring

snippets of chan sharing you with each of his boys for the first time

pairings: skz x afab!reader

warnings: smut!!!!🔞 multiple partners, threesomes, unprotected sex, protected sex, daddy kink, exhibitionism, smidges of mxm but nothing too serious, oral (f & m receiving), wet and messy, finger sucking, gagging, little bit of spit play, cum swallowing, light degradation, phone sex, slight voyeurism, pussy jobs, mutual masturbation, pet play, hair pulling, loss of virginity, spanking, whole lotta tags for a whole lotta boys!

notes: well.... i did it! inspired by chan's section in this post of mine since literally one singular person asked for it. this is just straight up NASTY.. you're welcome?? or sorry?? idk but anyways im abt to post this and then dip so i can sleep. pls enjoy!!! <3

chan 

“baby, tell me,” he whispers into your cheek. you’re on your back and he’s on his side facing you, a strong thigh thrown over yours that’s closest to him. he’s had his hand in your panties for the past thirty minutes, and it’s got your brain leaking out of your ears. “here, let’s take these off, yeah?”

he sits up, his hand finally leaves your panties so that he can drag them down your hips and have you kick them off with your foot. chan settles back down beside you, propping his head up on his palm and bringing his other hand back to your cunt to play. 

you’re so worked up you could cry. you could scream, but it’s your own doing. you know all you have to do is tell your boyfriend what’s on your mind. he tells you just that.

chan leans down to kiss your neck before murmuring against your skin. 

“all you have to do is tell me, love. i want to give it to you, hm?” you slowly nod your head and wrap your hand around his forearm. when you turn to look at him, he meets you halfway for a kiss. it’s sweet, nothing more than a press of your lips together, but yours are quick to drop open in a yelp when chan pinches your clit between his fingers. chan takes this opportunity to lick into your mouth and does his best to swallow the noises you can’t seem to stop making. 

he can tell you’re about to cum when you start to hump his hand, thighs shaking. chan smiles against your lips and gets you there, but right before you can tumble over the edge he removes his hand and trails it up your stomach to circle your belly button gently. the whine that leaves your mouth is pathetic, desperate, and you can’t help but bring your own fingers to your pussy to pick up where he left off. chan is quick to grab your hand and pin it to your side, dropping a swift smack to your cunt in retaliation that makes you cry out.

“this is mine.” his fingers wrap themselves around your neck. “that pussy is mine, and i’ll play with it how i see fit.” you’re nodding your head along with his words because of course, you know it’s his. 

“that’s right sweetheart. you want me to make you cum?” another nod from you. “why don’t you tell me what’s got that pretty head all dizzy then, yeah? daddy wants to give it to you, baby. i want you to have it.” 

you do tear up this time, and chan smiles at you, dimples showing. “my crybaby. how can channie help? what if i touch your little clit again, would that make it better?” he asks. 

“y-yes, channie, daddy,” you whine. his hand once again travels down to your pussy, and your hips arch into him to welcome them back home. so fuckin’ precious, he says.

chan kept his end of the bargain, so you know it’s time to keep yours, despite how nervous you are about admitting it out loud. you doubt your sweet boyfriend would think any different of you for this, but still. 

“want, ah, want you an’ your friends to fuck me, channie,” you whisper. “‘m so good for you, i am, jus’ want everyone to know.”

chan thinks he’s about to pass out. no way did you just say what he thinks you said, what he hopes you said. he’s fantasized about that for months, sharing you with the rest of stray kids, but was too ashamed and embarrassed to ever admit it out loud to you. then again, he thought, you had always been the brave one out of the two of you. 

“oh honey,” chan coos, “you’re right, you’re so good for me. you’re so wonderful, you want ‘em to see how sweet this pussy is? how good you treat me?” 

he doesn’t let you answer before he’s pulling you into his chest and making you cum so hard you’re out cold the second your head hits the pillow.

this is how it starts.

minho 

chan had texted you earlier, a short and simple me and minho need your help haha. you weren’t sure if it would lead to what you were hoping it would lead to, but god were you crossing your fingers. the second chan let you into the dance practice room, he locked the door behind you. you stopped in your tracks and raised your eyebrows at him, searching for some sort of hint to clue you into what was going on. your boyfriend cocks his head towards minho, who’s sitting on the leather couch and fiddling with his phone with a scowl on his face. 

you let out a quiet ahh and shoot chan a thumbs up. he responds with that squeaky laugh you love so much and gently pulls you in by the back of your head, wrapping his arm around it and guiding your face to his neck so you can hug him. 

“the second you say stop, we stop, ‘kay?” chan asks into your ear. 

“yes!” you say, excited, now bouncing on the balls of your feet and nearly headbutting him in the chin. you kiss him once and pull away, smiling. out of the corner of your eye you see minho lock his phone and place it face down on the couch, focusing his attention on you and chan. 

the next thing you know, you’re half naked on the couch. minho has your ass pulled to the edge so that he can have easier access to your drooly cunt on display for him, your panties dangling from one foot. he’s kneeling in between your spread legs. chan’s sitting on the cushion beside you, content for now to let minho explore your body for the first time. he’s holding your hand and rubbing slow circles on it with his thumb.

your head is thrown back against the backrest of the couch as minho is nipping at your thighs, startling moans out of you when he decides he wants to bite down harder. 

“show him your tits, baby,” chan tells you, squeezing your hand once. you comply immediately, using your unoccupied hand to pull the hem of your t-shirt up above your tits, and you wiggle when you look down to see minho’s dark eyes roaming your chest. 

“mm,” minho hums, “pretty. pretty body. can i kiss you here?” he asks, eyes flicking down to your cunt. you nod your head but are quick to glance over at your boyfriend. chan doesn’t say anything, but he does grab you under your knee and pull it up towards him so that minho has an even better view of you. minho hisses under his breath when it opens you up more for him, pussy lips parting and cute little clit peeking out to greet him. 

you all three let out a noise when minho gets his mouth on you, and you’re quick to bring the hem of your shirt to your mouth to bite down on it. 

you’ve always known lee minho was gorgeous, but the way he closes his eyes when he tastes you has you reeling. his long eyelashes flutter against his cheek before he opens his eyes again. you think it’s cute how red his ears are, and you bring a hand down to rub at one of them and he sighs into you. 

you’re honestly surprised your boyfriend has been sitting still for this long. he hasn’t moved to touch himself once, despite how hard you can see his dick is straining through his athletic shorts. he looks antsy though, and you don’t want that. 

“baby, channie, what is it?” you ask, fighting hard to make your words steady while minho continues to fuck you with his tongue.

“fuck,” chan grunts. “fuck, i want a fucking taste.” before you know it, chan’s on his knees beside minho, once again pushing your knee to your chest, and minho copies his movement with your other leg. minho shuffles over on his knees to give chan more room, and your breath stutters in your throat when their tongues touch you at the same time. 

you couldn’t look away if you tried, your eyes are locked on the way minho and chan’s tongues lave over your cunt at the same time. one of chan’s hands comes up to cup your breast, and you rest your hand over his, squeezing it. 

the noises are filthy, even more so with the acoustics of the practice room. you can’t tune anything out. not the way your pussy is soaking their faces, the hungry noises both boys are making, or the way you’re almost squealing. your noises raise in pitch once you see how their tongues are batting against each other and rubbing over your clit, and you’re cumming before you get the chance to warn them. your back arches almost painfully, hips bucking so wildly that chan and minho both have to hold you down. 

you reckon you damn near pass out because when you come to, you’re nestled against chan’s chest and minho’s head is resting on your shoulder; he’s playing with your fingers. 

“morning, sunshine!” chan jokes, and he laughs when you groan. you open your bleary eyes and take in your surroundings, relaxing further against chan and minho.

“minho?” you ask, and he hums to show you he’s listening. “why are you wearing different pants?” 

“because i came in my other ones, why else?”

changbin 

“holy fuck, that’s good,” changbin grunts, reclining himself further into the computer chair in chan’s studio. his legs scramble to give you more room where you’re settled sweetly between them. 

chan sits on the couch, relaxing into the corner while he palms himself over his shorts. 

you pull off of changbin’s cock and stroke him in your fist. you spread your legs so that you can settle closer to the ground and smile against the underside of changbin’s cock, figuring it turns him on to loom over you like that. changbin growls, and you’re still smiling when you travel lower to suck on his balls, humming in your throat. 

changbin’s head smacks against the headrest of the chair when you suck his cock into your mouth again. 

“can i- ah, please, your mouth feels so good,” changbin whines. he wants to fuck your face, you can tell by the way his hips stutter, but he stops himself because you haven’t told him he could. mhm, you hum, and changbin’s quick to lift his hips to see how much you can take. 

if you can deepthroat bang christopher chan, you figure changbin will be no problem. 

“gag on it,” changbin murmurs, hands gripping the arms of the chair. you do, pushing yourself all the way down on his cock and holding yourself there. changbin lets out a cry when you look up at him through your teary eyes, and his hand cups your cheek so that he can wipe a tear away with his thumb when it falls. you move your head slightly, ignoring the discomfort on your nose when it rubs against his trimmed pubic hair.

you finally hear chan make a noise when changbin starts to fuck your face in earnest. the wet sounds your throat is making carries throughout the small studio, your face a mess of tears, snot, and drool. you’re thankful changbin’s chair is pushed back against the desk because otherwise it would be rolling across the floor from how hard he’s fucking into your mouth. 

“fuuuck, like that. just like that. fuck, can you spit on it?” you pull off of changbin’s cock, a thick string of spit connecting your mouth to his dick when you pull away for a breath. 

“mm, yeah,” you say, moving your tongue around in your mouth. chan sits up from his spot on the couch and scoots closer to you. 

“here,” he says, leaning up and turning your head towards him. chan shoves two of his thick fingers in your mouth, fucking them in and out. you whine, gagging slightly on his fingers, body lurching as chan continues fucking your mouth with his fingers. he goes to pull them out, but you’re not done with him. you grab onto his wrist and suck harshly on his fingers, batting your eyelashes at him. 

“little fucking slut,” chan grunts, “open your mouth.” you do as he says, and he fucks your mouth again, gagging you on his fingers over and over. spit is cascading down his hand and forearm, and he tsks at you. your mouth is still open, thick saliva collecting in the back of your mouth, and chan leans forward one more time to add his own spit to the mix. he turns you back towards changbin. 

changbin has been watching the whole scene with his jaw dropped, hand working furiously on his cock, but not enough to make him cum. he wants you to do that. 

he holds his cock out for you as you settle back comfortably between his legs. your hand joins his on his cock, and you let the collected spit pour out of your mouth so that it seeps down his cock. your hands catch most of it, and you use it to pump his messy cock. changbin’s pants are soiled at this point, but that’s the last thing on his mind. your hair keeps getting caught in the mess and you’re growing frustrated with having to repeatedly tuck it behind your ears. you’re a little miffed you forgot a hair band before you left your place. of course sweet changbin notices, and he uses both of his hands to keep your hair from your face. 

you hear chan lean up from his spot on the couch again, and he collects your hair in his hands and holds it back for both of you. 

“‘s it good bin?” chan asks, looking up at his friend. 

“holy shit, you’re crazy. it’s so fucking good, so fucking good,” changbin laughs in disbelief. chan uses his hold on your hair to move your head up and down on changbin’s cock. he holds you down on it when he sees fit, moving you how he wants, toying with you and changbin both. it’s all too much, so you can’t help but start to touch yourself. 

chan catches on quickly, but changbin’s too busy looking wide-eyed at the ceiling to notice. 

“bin, look. isn’t that cute?” chan asks. your whimper is muffled by changbin’s thick cock. 

“oh my god, are you touching yourself, baby?” changbin whines, chest heaving. “that’ll make me cum. keep touching your pussy for us and i’ll cum in your mouth.” 

as you start to hump your hand, chan tightens his grip on your hair and forces your nose to changbin’s skin. when you cum you grasp onto changbin’s leg with your other hand, and the way your throat constricts pushes changbin over the edge with you. 

hyunjin 

“hyung it’s so wet, so wet, i can’t,” hyunjin cries. you giggle at that, and hyunjin huffs out a laugh too.

he hasn’t fucked you yet, but this is good. hyunjin has been grinding his long, pretty cock against your pussy for the better part of fifteen minutes. “yeah, ‘m wet for you hyune~” you croon.

hyunjin’s thighs shake where they’re pressed tight against the backs of yours. 

chan breathes a curse through the speaker of your phone. you hated that he had to leave to check on something at the company, but you figured hyunjin would be fun to play with by yourself. despite not being present in the room, you still wanted chan involved somehow, but it was hyunjin who suggested calling him up.

“how does hyunjinnie feel, baby?” chan asks, and you give yourself a couple of seconds to collect your thoughts.

“channie, he feels so good on me,” you tell him, voice lilting in a sultry way to drive your boyfriend and his friend crazy. “his cock is so fucking big.” you wail when the head of his cock catches on your clit. 

you hear chan say something along the lines of my sweetheart loves a big cock, huh? but you’re too busy crying out over the way hyunjin grabs his dick and shakes the head of it against your clit to be certain. your hips spasm, and hyunjin leans more of his weight forward to cage you against the bed. 

hyunjin plants his hands on either side of your head and ruts his hips down faster, jolting your body up the bed. 

“pussy. so. fucking. warm. so wet, smells so sweet,” hyunjin punctuates his words with fluid thrusts against you.

you cup your hand over the top of his cock so that it presses him harder against your pussy, and that makes you both moan. hyunjin leans down to kiss at your chest. he sucks kisses onto the underside of your breast and pops your nipple into his mouth, making you keen. his deft fingers softly tap at your other nipple, faintly tracing around it with the tip of his finger to feel it pebble up and harden under his touch.

“what’s got my baby making such pretty noises, huh? you have to tell me since i can’t see you. i have to know what to touch my cock to.” you cry out chan’s name, and hyunjin lets out a soft noise as well. 

“channie he’s- he’s rubbing his cock on my pussy. it’s so hard, feels so good… an’ he’s playing with my- with my nipples too, baby, ah!” you cry out as hyunjin bites down gently on your nipple. 

“hyung, channie hyung, my thighs are soaked. it’s so slippery, ‘s dripping. shit! how do you do this? it’s so good i’m gonna die…” hyunjin’s sentence trails off as he fucks his cock against your pussy faster, movements sharper as he gets closer to his release. 

“fuck, i know, hyunjin-ah. sweetest pussy ever, isn’t it?” chan says through the phone. if you listen close enough you think you can hear the slick noises of him jerking his cock. 

“hy-hyunjinnie,” you mewl, “c’n you, can you put it in, please? just the tip, please, just the tip! that’s all i need, i just wanna cum. i wanna cum on your cock.” hyunjin cries out and his arms shake.

“hyung, can i please?” he almost sounds close to tears. hyunjin bites his lip and hangs his head, silky black hair brushing against your chest. 

“you’ve got my baby begging, hyune, go ahead, it’s alright.” chan answers, voice tinny through the phone’s speaker. 

you’re whispering pleasepleasepleaseplease as hyunjin takes hold of his cock and guides it to your hole. he does as promised, fucking the tip in, and you both look at each other with mouths wide open. hyunjin re-positions himself so that his thighs aren’t pressing yours to your chest anymore, now there’s a little more room between the two of you. he takes both of your ankles in one of his big hands and pushes your legs back to your chest, the other hand occupied with holding the base of his cock. 

hyunjin slowly rolls his hips forward, grinding inside you repeatedly with the tip of his big cock. you’re so wet that you start squelching when he fucks in, and as hyunjin whimpers at the noise you throw your arm over your eyes to hide. 

“nonono, look at me, please don’t hide. you’re so beautiful, you feel perfect,” hyunjin tells you. “will you cum? can i make you cum?” 

“baby, touch yourself for us, let hyunjinnie see your pretty face when you cum on him,” chan says. he’s breathless. you follow his instructions, looking at hyunjin through your eyelashes and rubbing your clit in small little circles. it catches up to you quickly, your face scrunches up as you hit your high, pussy clenching around the head of hyunjin’s cock. 

“oh! oh, keep clenching on me. please, yes, keep cumming!” hyunjin cries, fist jerking the part of his cock that isn’t snug inside you. that’s enough to push him over the edge, he rushes to take his cock out and he cums in streaks all over your stomach. you smile sleepily at him as you pick up some with the tips of your fingers and bring it to your mouth.

“don’t fucking go anywhere,” chan growls. you had almost forgot he was on the line. “i’m coming home right now.”

jisung 

you’re putting on the best show of your life, you think, as you sit in the computer chair in chan’s studio while him and jisung lounge on the couch. chan’s already got a hand down his pants, but jisung is holding onto the spotify pillow tightly, covering his lap with it. 

you smirk at your boyfriend and trail your eyes to jisung, making sure to spread your legs wider for him to see. you settle both of your legs over the arms of the chair. you notice jisung’s eyes widen, but he still doesn’t move to touch himself, and that has you pouting. 

“come on, hannie, don’t you want to play with me?” you ask, cocking your head as your fingers begin to pinch your own nipples before the real fun begins. 

you see jisung gulp, and you’d laugh if it weren’t so cute. 

“you wanna watch me touch myself?” you ask him, pulling at a nipple and watching him watch your breast jiggle with the movement. 

“baby don’t tease, be nice.” comes chan’s response. 

“‘m always nice, see?” you say back. you roll your neck and your fingers inch to your pussy. you form a vee with your fingers and spread yourself open for them. you let them look their fill for a moment and then start to rub your clit when you deem necessary. “i’m so nice, aren’t i hannie?” 

“yeah, sooo nice, so nice, yeah,”  jisung replies with a cough, eyes fixed on your fingers that are coated with your slick. he finally removes the pillow from his lap and reaches a hand under the band of his sweatpants to touch himself. 

“take out your cocks, pleeease.” it’s more of a command if your tone has anything to do with it, but since you’re being nice you tacked on a please at the end for good measure. chan readily complies, always prepared to get his dick out for you, but jisung pulls at the drawstring of his sweats and hesitates. 

“please hannie? i’ve seen that one before,” you wave a passive hand at chan. “can i see yours?” you ignore chan’s squawk of hey! you happen to love this one, brat! to bat your eyelashes at jisung. 

jisung laughs, which is what you wanted him to do, and finally loosens the drawstring and shimmies his pants down a little bit so you can see him. 

“mmm,” you hum. “yes, good. touch it for me.” his cock is almost purple at the head. it looks like you worked him up even more than you thought. good. 

sure you were putting on a show, acting out a little bit, but it was easy to start touching yourself genuinely with two of the most beautiful men you’d ever seen in your life sitting in front of you jerking their cocks. to you, to your body. you’re soaking wet. thankfully chan had the forethought to lay his discarded jacket in the chair you’re sitting on before you started your little magic act. 

your fingers dip into your entrance, and it makes your hips jolt. ooh! you say.

“you wanna taste, jisungie?” you ask. jisung stares wordlessly at where your fingers are disappearing into yourself. you kick your foot out to get his attention. “i saaaid, you wanna taste?” he wastes no time in nodding.

you pull your fingers from yourself and sit up in the chair, the wetness sticking uncomfortably under you. you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the smile spreading across your face when jisung nearly goes cross-eyed as you bring your fingers to his lips.

you mouth the words ‘say ahh’ and jisung listens instantly. he opens his mouth for you, and you’re quick to acquaint your fingers with his tongue. he closes his lips and his eyes shut with them, gently sucking on your fingers and swirling his tongue around the digits. you thrust your fingers slowly in and out and let out a breathless moan when jisung bobs his head to meet your fingers.

chan’s still touching himself all the while. 

“oh, channie my love, i’m not being fair am i?” you ask. looking chan in the eyes, you lean back in your seat again to repeat the process. you fuck yourself on your fingers until your wetness is seeping down your knuckles and sit up once again to feed them to chan. chan meets your fingers with his tongue already out of his mouth, waiting patiently. when chan is done sucking your essence from your fingers, he presses a sweet kiss against your palm.

“get on your fucking knees, i wanna cum in that mouth,” chan commands. you’re quick to follow his orders, but not before jisung snags the jacket from your chair and places it on the ground so you can rest your knees on it. chan stands up from his spot on the couch and begins jerking his cock over your face. 

jisung’s still touching himself watching the scene of you and chan before him, but you want him closer. you tug on the fabric of his pants as encouragement for him to stand up too. he gets the hint and stands up beside chan, stripping his cock over you as well.

“fuck, i can’t, can i see your tongue?” jisung asks, voice pitching on a whine. you loll your tongue out of your mouth in answer, mouth open and waiting. “wanna cum on it, can i? can i please?” 

you raise yourself on your knees so that you can lick the head of his cock, then lick chan’s, then jisung’s again. 

“please cum in my mouth?” you mewl to the both of them. “i’ll be good and swallow it all.”

felix 

when he got to the chicken breast and protein powder dorm he assumed everyone was out. he left a pair of headphones in chan’s room the last time he was over and wanted them back. he was quickly proven incorrect when he opened the door of chan’s room to see you kneeling by the bed in just your underwear and chan sitting on the edge of it. the lights are off, but chan has his desk lamp on and the led lights on his wall are shining pink and purple. 

you rush to pull your mouth off of your boyfriend, and chan leans forward to block the view of your chest as best as he can. 

“well d’you want to...stay?” chan offers after a tense moment of silence. felix stands in the doorway of his hyung’s room, mouth slack, as he watches the scene in front of him. he shakes his head, almost as if that will help him clear it. 

“is that- i mean- are you.....sure?” felix starts, sentence breaking off toward the end. you quickly nod your head, leaning back from chan and exposing your chest. minx. he’s been growing hard in his pants since he opened the damn door, but now his cock has really taken an interest. 

“yeah mate, we kind of… talk about it? but only if you want to, yeah?” chan responds. felix nods shakily, taking a step into the room and closing the door. “yeah... okay, yes. fuck, please?” 

chan smiles and scoots back to the head of the bed, guiding your hand with him until you’re between his legs, back pressed to his chest. you’re shyly keeping your legs closed, but chan tuts at you. a soft let him see you leaving his pretty lips. next thing you know, chan’s strong hands are prying your thighs open slowly and giving felix a clear view of your soaked panties. you hide your face in his neck as his hand crawls back up your thigh to cup where you’re leaking. “come ‘ere, lix,” chan murmurs. 

felix takes a step closer to the bed, eyes glued to chan’s fingers running over the fabric of your panties. he hears a sweet sound leave your lips and chan coos. “why don’t you ask him, honey.” 

“mm, felix,” you cry as chan’s fingers find their way under the waistband. “can you- can you take my panties off, please?” 

“oh fuck,” he groans. he climbs onto the bed and situates himself between yours and chan’s spread legs. he looks between you and chan again for confirmation, chan nodding his head and your quiet pleas spur him on. 

felix reaches forward and gently guides your panties down your thighs. he whimpers softly when he finally sees you bare and his head lolls back when the smell of your arousal reaches his nose. 

“you have to tell me- i don’t know what you like. please show me.” felix tells you as he lowers himself to his stomach. chan pulls you further against him, drawing your legs back to your chest. 

at the first press of felix’s tongue against you, you keen. your back arches against your boyfriend’s chest when felix’s tongue flicks softly on your clit. 

he dips his tongue into your hole and looks up just in time to see chan pull you into a dirty kiss. he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be in the middle of that kiss, reasoning that he’ll hold onto that thought and figure out what it means later. 

felix laves his tongue against you, quickly seeking out your swollen clit again and wrapping his lips around it, pressing quick sucking kisses against it. 

“lix! just like that, please!” you cry at the same time chan coos out “ohh, my baby likes that.” he sucks at you harder, eyebrows furrowing as he keeps his pace in order to make you cum. he moans as he feels a hand grip his hair and press him closer to you. he’s expecting it to be yours, but he looks up to find both of your hands occupied with your own chest. 

felix pulls away slightly as chan’s other hand travels down to your pussy. he doesn’t think twice before he brings the older man’s fingers to his mouth and wraps his tongue around them. chan hums and pulls his fingers free. he brings them to your clit, rubbing in quick circles. felix takes that as his cue to wiggle his tongue back into your hole, pressing in and out and licking over what chan’s fingers aren’t covering. your hips jolt everytime chan’s fingers and felix’s tongue play with your clit at the same time. 

“oh fuck, oh fuck!” you cry as your thighs begin to tremble. “‘m gonna cum. please let me cum, please?” 

seungmin 

“do i even want to know why you have a leash here?” 

“it’s a little late for that, seungminnie, isn’t it? considering you’re wearing it? and why do you have a collar?” chan harmlessly snarks back, and seungmin laughs. 

you’d laugh too if you weren’t too busy getting pounded by seungmin’s long cock. 

you’re on your back; seungmin’s holding your legs up by the pits of your knees. you’ve got the end of the leash wrapped in your fist and every so often you tug on it to hear seungmin whimper. he does look awfully pretty in that collar.

you tug on the leash again, pulling seungmin down so that you can kiss his lips. his hips pick up speed again when you wrap the leash one more loop around your hand. 

“you’re just a puppy, huh?” you murmur against his cheek. seungmin’s rhythm falters a little bit as his eyebrows furrow at your comment. you see him take a peek at chan out of the corner of his eyes. “it’s alright seungminnie, don’t be embarrassed. he’s just a dog too.”

chan doesn’t say a word, but his leg starts bouncing up and down. 

“see look, just like a dog thumping its leg,” you whisper into seungmin’s ear. it’s quiet enough in seungmin’s room so you know chan can hear what you said. the only sound other than the slapping of your hips together is that of seungmin’s oscillating fan. 

seungmin breathes a whine into your collarbone, and you use that as an excuse to pull his hair hard enough to lift his head so that you can look him in the eyes. 

“you’re a good boy seungminnie, did you know that?” seungmin nods his head yes but quickly stops and shakes it no instead. seungmin’s stopped fucking you now, you reckon he’s overwhelmed, so you run your fingers through his hair. “well it’s true, and i don’t lie. you’re such a good little puppy for me, seungmin, and do you know what good boys get?” 

“w-what do good boys get?” seungmin asks, hips wiggling.

“good boys get to hump, isn’t that right channie? ‘cause that’s what dogs do.” 

seungmin and chan sound so sweet when they moan together, voices almost harmonizing. your new favorite melody. you spur seungmin into moving when you pat his flank, and he does exactly what you told him to. his hips buck almost wildly against yours. you turn your head to look at your boyfriend and smirk at the way he’s minutely grinding his hips up into nothing. seungmin shifts his weight onto one hand and goes to touch your clit with his nimble fingers, but you stop him before he can.

“no, no, it’s okay honey, puppies can’t do that with their paws. you let me worry about that.” and you do, using the hand not holding the leash to reach down and rub your clit while seungmin watches. 

“i like- i like that,” seungmin gasps. it’s cute the way his stomach contracts when he thrusts into you. 

“you like what, seungminnie?” 

“the way you, ah, the way you talk to me. every time i cum from- from now on i’ll think of this,” seungmin confesses as he kisses down your shoulder to your arm. 

it’s a headrush. knowing that you have seungmin in the palm of your hand so easily like this. not only seungmin, but chan too. you can tell by how wide his eyes are; he’s hanging on to every word. 

“seungminnie, that’s sweet. how about next time i let you and channie both be my doggies? You can hump one leg and my channie can hump the other, and i’ll just sit here and watch. how about that? will you touch your cock to that too?”

“yes, yes, i will, promise,” seungmin cries. his hips buck against you so hard that his cock slips out, but he can’t stop moving in order to press back inside of you. seungmin’s just as happy fucking his cock against the mound of your cunt, grunting every time the slit of his cock rubs against your soft skin. 

“what about you, channie? will you touch yourself too?” you ask, turning to look at your boyfriend. he’s red in the face, sweating, curly hair sticking to his forehead. 

“you know i will, you know i will, baby.” 

seungmin cums with a sweet whine from low in his throat.

“good. now come clean up this mess seungminnie made.”

jeongin 

“ooh!” you exclaim. you clutch at jeongin’s biceps from where he’s holding himself up above you. “‘s big, innie.”

jeongin lets out a shuddery breath and blinks a bead of sweat from his eyelashes. it falls on your forehead.

“is that- is that okay?” he asks nervously. you can feel him stiffen above you, so you start to massage your hands up and down his arms. before you can answer him yourself, chan answers for you.

“it’s good, ayen-ah, don’t worry. my baby likes big.”

“oh, hyung that’s- please shut up.” you giggle at jeongin’s response and he smiles down at you, albeit a little shaky. 

“you can do whatever you want to me, innie. it’s your first time, just enjoy it.” he nods at your words, finally beginning to move his hips against you. 

“ahh, shit, you’re so-” jeongin doesn’t finish that sentence. “is it good for you? does it feel like this for you too?” you’re really wet, so he knows he’s doing alright on that front, but he wants to know how to make it even better. he brings a hand down to your pussy to feel. 

“there, rub there,” chan guides from his seat close to the bed. “you like it wet? that’ll make it wetter.” you throw your head back as jeongin complies with chan’s suggestion, two of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit. 

“that’s good, innie, feels so good,” you cry. 

jeongin presses a kiss to your sweaty neck in thanks. he stays there, mouthing repeatedly at your skin. his lips are a little timid but a lot sweet, and you encourage him by running your fingers through his hair. 

“can you, ah, will it be okay if i turn you over?” jeongin asks. 

you nod to him and press a kiss to his lips, patting his side as a signal for him to get off so you can change positions. you both hiss when his cock slides out of you. 

you make a show out of turning over for both jeongin and your boyfriend. jeongin’s hand squeezes the swell of your ass, and you hear him gasp when he takes notice of the slight gape from where he was inside you a few seconds prior. 

“oh that’s- oh wow,” jeongin breathes. “hyung, come see.” 

you preen when chan leaves his spot to stand beside the bed. his gaze joins jeongin’s on your center, and you wiggle your hips in impatience. chan cracks a hand down swiftly on your ass cheek and you whine. he knows what’s on the tip of your tongue, so he hooks two fingers into your opening and fucks you with them slowly. “just wanna be filled, huh?” 

“yeah, yeah. i want jeonginnie’s cock again,” comes your answer. chan laughs and smacks your ass once more before retreating back to his prior spot. jeongin heaves a deep breath and shakes his head, muttering an okay, okay under his breath. he presses you further into the bed so you’re almost lying entirely flat on your front until he quickly grabs a pillow from the head of his bed and stuffs it under your hips. 

“good, ayen-ah, where’d you learn that?” chan teases, nodding his head. jeongin rolls his eyes at that. you can’t see him, but you know him well enough to know that’s what he does. he doesn’t answer as he focuses on sheathing his cock inside you again and making sure his arms don’t give out from under him. 

jeongin cages you against the bed, his torso to your back and thighs on either side of yours. 

“ah it’s- it’s warm, where he hit you.” you can still feel the phantom sting of chan’s palm against your ass, and you notice it more when jeongin places his hand gently on top of where chan’s handprint is no doubt seared into your skin. that must get to jeongin because he thrusts into you harder than he has before. 

“s-sorry! sorry, i’m sorry, i can’t,” jeongin babbles, and you coo at him. your hand searches for his elegant fingers. when you find them you bring his hand back up beside your head, holding it and kissing his knuckles. 

“it’s okay, honey, i like that. d’you wanna cum in me? fuck me until you cum, innie, would you like that?” you ask him, trying your best to fuck back on him with his weight holding you down. he’ll cum in the condom he’s wearing, but the barrier doesn’t matter right now. 

“please, i- won’t last, i can’t. you’re- too pretty, so pretty, i can’t,” jeongin’s fucking you faster now. he’s so desperate to cum that it makes your pussy clench, and he shouts. your own fingers find your clit in the hopes that you can cum with him, a perfect end to his one-of-a-kind first time. 

“look at that, keep going iyennie, gonna make my baby cum too,” chan hums. jeongin’s balls deep in you, and you’re facing your boyfriend, falling apart for him and one of his closest friends. chan has his cock out, and you’re surely drooling now. you’ll have to remind jeongin to wash his sheets afterwards. 

your hand is trapped under you from yours and jeongin’s combined weight, but that doesn’t stop you from frantically rubbing your clit. that’s enough for jeongin; he chokes on a moan and he stops breathing as he cums inside you. inside the condom, but inside you nonetheless.

What's your fanfic fantasy? part 1

↳ tag list: open

Chapter Contents.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 //

Pairing: fem reader + Chan + Jisung

This is an AU story about Chan bringing your fantasies to life... but what happens when boyfriends Chan and Han fall in love with you?

Chapter Summary: You're enjoying a drink with Chan until he starts asking about the smut you read.

Warnings: This first installment has no sex (but the next is fully sex including a threesome!) but talks about sexually explicit content, fantasies, references to sex and masturbation, explicit language, eventual threesome in next installment.

You sit on the leather lounge really confused about how the conversation ended up here.

“So… “ Chan starts, “do you enjoy reading them?” he smirks as he asks this.

He is such a cheeky bastard.

He isn't talking about stories in the media, or news articles, or interviews. Nope. He is talking about erotic fan fiction. Smut. About him. About him and his rock band SKZ. And that you've been reading it.

You have known Chan for a long time. Years now. You'd met on a creative project. You're musicians, and have often worked creatively together on and off for a few years. You were so excited when Chan invited you to his holiday/work retreat to work on a new project with him and a few of the guys from the band for a couple of weeks.

You're staying in a beautiful holiday home, more like a mansion really, on the coast overlooking the ocean. It’s a sight to die for.

Chan loved to work. He worked all day. He worked well into the night. He worked all the time actually. A workaholic. You wonder if you would get to let your hair down, and just hang out, which usually ends up with you bantering and laughing together for hours.

You didn’t have to wonder for long. It's your first day here, and it hasn’t taken long before you've hit “banter territory”. In fact it has now moved beyond “banter territory” and into some unknown, and quite frankly scary, uncharted territory, and you don’t have a map for this particular terrain.

Even though nothing has ever happened between you and Chan, and likely never will, you often seem to end up flirting. Hinting at things in a fun, non serious way. But never taking it further (although your mind has drifted much further than you'd ever admit).

Chan’s a safe flirt. Which means he makes you feel safe enough to push the envelope without a sense of awkwardness or feeling a need to take action or follow through. You seem to just prick tease really.

It’s just fun and games right? Right? It was always… cheeky and lighthearted and absolutely never serious.

Until now.

You feel flustered and a little sweaty. You try to shift in your seat to get more comfortable and to ease the sense of your legs feeling like your circulation has been cut off, but the leather couch is sticking to your legs. You shouldn’t have worn a mini skirt. A uneasiness builds up inside of you.

You pick up your sparkling water from the leather upholstered chaise-slash-coffee table and take a big sip, biding your time before you answer.

You're sitting in one of the living areas that that has a big floor to ceiling window that takes advantage of the ocean view. It’s getting dark out there now.

Chan sits on a second leather coach to your right where he is waiting for you to speak. You bring your attention back to his question “do you enjoy reading them?”

You'd been talking about the fandom and some of the thirst tweets and naughty edits that are out there about his rock band SKZ, and somehow the conversation escalated into how you had read some of the fan made fiction about the group.

You wish you hadn’t even mentioned that you read smut. Why did you do that? You were only going to tease him about the situations, positions and activities that he and his band members have been involved in, fictitiously of course.

Unfortunately for you the teasing hasn’t had the desired effect, and the tables have been turned on you. Instead of making him go red, or teasing him about it, and having a giggle - in the safe zone of “banter territory” - you were the one blushing while his expression had turned dark and devious.

You look him in the eyes to see if you can read his thoughts.

He is still waiting for your answer.

He is still smirking at you. Fuck. This is so awkward.

“Well …?” he raises an eyebow. “do you enjoy reading them?” he repeats himself. You actually have to answer him then? What the fuck do you say?

You're not quite sure whether to give a lighthearted response and shift the conversation to something more… vanilla, or match him with the dark, sinister vibe. Or, you could just be honest and nonchalant, and act like it’s no big deal. Yeah you might go with that. You're an adult after all.

“Well, yeah I do actually.” you say matter-of-factly, completely disregarding the dark look in his eyes. You think you've come off calm and unaffected by his energy, but on the inside you're burning up with embarrassment, or is it shame? Or something else?

You want to hide. You realise you're holding your breath and you do your best to exhale gently and calmly.

Chan puts his drink down, a simple coke, on the coffee table-chaise and sits back on the leather couch. His skinny ripped jeans are so very tight and his legs are parted a little bit too wide for polite chit chat. How fucking rude! He’s playing games with you.

It surprises you when you a feel dull ache in your core. You want to be pissed off at his confidence, not turned on. Why does this dark energy seem so alluring? This isn’t the Chan you're used to, and you have a feeling this situation is going to become less polite by the minute. You're not sure how it’s going to pan out, but you're terrified. Or are you? You can’t quite tell if this is terror or anticipation, or - arousal?

He brings a hand to his chin as though deep in thought, rubbing his fingers against his lips, and not taking his eyes off you for even a second. Then he nods his head as if he has just made a decision with himself. Is he is having as much inner dialogue as you are right now?

“Tell me more?” He coaxes, his voice is low and deep.

Tell him more? Shit. What are you supposed to say? That you lay in bed reading about how he and his best friends suck each other off and rail each other in the ass? And then you touch yourself over it as you imagine you're there actually watching it? Or that you imagine each of them inside of you while the others watch?

Is that what he wants to hear?

You cross your legs hoping the tension will go away, but all it does is intensify the feeling.

No, absolutely not. This is too far. You can’t tell him more. You won’t tell him. It’d be too… vulnerable. Intimate. You shake your head.

“No,” you start. “I don’t think we should keep talking about this.” You sigh and look at him pleadingly. But the look in his eyes tell you he isn’t going to let this slide. And part of you doesn’t want him to either. If you're honest, you're scared, embarrassed and want to run and hide, but part of you does want to tell him, to confess to him, see his reaction. What would he say? What would he do? You wanted to know. You needed to know.

Despite your resolve to say nothing, you open your mouth ready to blurt it all out anyway.

“You’re right.” Chan cuts you off, and some of that darkness shifts from his eyes. He grins his cheeky fucking grin at you and you feel that sense of kindness and friendliness he has return just a little bit.

But..

Your heart sinks. Why do you feel disappointed?

“It’s none of my business what you enjoy reading”. He chuckles filling his glass up with more coke. “I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward. We can change the subject.” Chan leans forward to peer closer to you, the room has gotten so dark and only a few lamp lights are illuminating the room in a soft glow.

“I’m sorry.” he says with pleading eyes. “I was just curious, you know?” He leans back again. “This is kind of an area that I don’t know anything about you in”.

“Chan,” you exasperate, “It’s normal for people to not know other people’s fantasies!”

You clasp your hand over your mouth. You've said too much.

“Fantasies? No one mentioned fantasies.” He’s caught you out. Chan’s devious eyes are back but it’s coupled with a devious grin too. Doubly dangerous. “Hmm..” he pretends to ponder “so let me get this straight. You read the dirty fiction and then fantasize about it happening to you? Or,” he takes a sip of his drink. “you make up your own little scenarios of my boys filling you up and fucking you senseless?”

“Chan!” You're shocked at how accurate his accusation actually is. And equally shocked how your body is responding. You're thankful it’s dark because you're pretty sure your nipples are rock hard. You're also thankful he is hasn’t outrightly asked if you fantasize about him.

So much for changing the subject.

“Do you?” he knows he almost has you admitting everything to him.

You tip your head back and let out a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll tell you more. Then you can fucking stop being so pushy and move on.”

Chan claps his hands together excitedly. “Right then”, he says and excitedly shuffles over a little closer to you. You feel like you should get him some god damned popcorn.

“You’re right. I read the stories, I touch myself, and I imagine my own scenarios.” You flail your hand around in some weird gesture and try to keep the explanation as minimal as possible, surely he doesn’t need to know actual details.

Chan waits for you to elaborate. Apparently he does need to know more details.

You roll your eyes. “And yes, I imagine them filling me up and fucking me senseless." you finish.

He looks satisfied that you've admitted it, and proud too, like his boys had actually had sex with you and that it was somehow thanks to him. “Except..” you start. What are you doing?

Chan looks at you curiously. “Except? Except what?”

You hesitate but decide to continue. “Except, even though he is so fucking hot and he’s the best drummer I’ve seen, and so very sexy, and his lips are just delicious, no matter how hard I try, and even though I want to so badly, I can’t seem to envision Jisung inside of me!” you confess.

Oh my god, what did you just say?

You look to Chan to see what his reaction is. He looks amused but mildly distracted. His gaze keeps shifting over your shoulder ever so slightly even though his attention and words are directed at you.

“So what you are saying is,” he focuses his eyes back on you. “that you can’t picture Jisung fucking you?” He smirks and leans back against the back of the couch resuming the confident lazy posture he had earlier.

You swear he’s hard, his pants seem a little too tight and you can see a bulge protruding, fighting against his pants. But it’s too dark to really tell, and perhaps your imagination is getting the better of you. You wonder what it would feel like to straddle his lap and grind against him, to make him harder and to relieve this tension building up in your body.

“Do you want to?” Chan jolts you back to reality, his attention is one hundred percent back on you, but something feels off.

“Huh?” You stare blankly, taking your eyes off the bulge in his pants.

“Do you want to be able to imagine Jisung fucking you?” he repeats casually, but dead serious.

Do you want to imagine Jisung fucking you? You consider what might be the thing getting in the way of you being able to picture it. Is it that he seems so young and fun that you can’t see him taking charge and being aggressive, and maybe that’s what you're into? You can’t really put your finger on it. All you know is you do want to imagine Jisung inside of you, fucking you. Well yeah, of course. Who wouldn’t? How was admitting it to Chan going to help?

“Yes,” you declare anyway. Really! What are you doing?  “and it’s so fucking annoying.” you add. Your throat is so dry, but elsewhere you're beginning to feel a little wet.

Amusement washes over Chan’s face and his eyes dart over your shoulder again.

You swallow hard even though your throat feels like a hard lump, but before you can do or say anything, Chan leans in close to your ear. His breath is hot against your neck and cheek. Fuck he’s close. Fuck he smells good.

You hold your breath waiting for Chan to speak. He lingers for what feels like forever.

“Jisung thinks that’s so fucking annoying too.” It was barely a whisper. He pulls away from your ear and gestures behind you. “Don’t you, Jisung?”

Your heart suddenly pounds so hard you think it’s going to fling out of your chest. Your jaw drops and dread begins to take over you. You feel hot and dizzy. You snap your head in the direction of Chan’s gaze only to be met with Jisung standing in the doorway. The dread intensifies and you're filled with shame. You want to hide.

Fuck.

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@rylea08 @channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @rixenluv sorry if you’ve been tagged again, I am having issues to tagging again.

Of Kimchi & Ink - Series Masterlist & Teaser

Minty's Masterlist

Summary: You already know you shouldn't fuck your tattoo artist, but when you walk in to SKZ Ink, you can't help but be drawn to the man you've already commissioned for your largest piece yet.

Pairings: Tattoo Artist!Chan x fem!reader **NOTE: While I tend to shy away from most physical descriptors for my 'x reader' stories, there are some in this work that were unavoidable. Reader has multiple tattoos and long dark hair. Beyond that, no physical descriptors used. Word Count: 30.3k, split into 5 parts, with text screenshots in parts 2 through 4 - unedited as always CW: Suggestive and explicit content, tattoos & piercings, reader is written as bisexual, swearing, mentions of grief/loss of a parent, memorial tattoo, reader has a loud hispanic best friend named Nena, Tattoo Artist!ATEEZ Hongjoong, nicknames (reader is called baby, babygirl, beautiful, sweetheart, princess) - explicit tags added to relevant posts

Author's Note: I started writing this forever ago [January 10th, wtf] and just never finished, but it's done now and I hope y'all will like it.

Posting Schedule

Part One, 4.3k - Monday, May 27 @ 11 AM EST

Part Two, 6.6k - Tuesday, May 28 @ 11 AM EST

Part Three, 5.5k - Wednesday, May 29 @ 11 AM EST EARLY!

Part Four, 7.1k - Thursday, May 30 @ 11 AM EST

Part Five, 6.8k - Friday, May 31 @ 11 AM EST EARLY AS FUCK!

Sneak Preview

A comfortable silence falls between you as Chan works, and you find your eyes closing in peace. It's been so long since you last had a tattoo take a while, your thigh piece completed over a year ago. Aside from your wrist star, you had only gotten a heart behind your ear and a vine of ivy around your ankle since then. You had missed the buzz of the tattoo machine and the faint stinging of the needle.

Chan moves down your hip, following the stencil around your hip bone onto your lower abdomen. You ignore the fluttering sensation that the vibrations of the machine cause between your thighs, trying to squeeze your thighs together surreptitiously.

“Can you lay your hip flat? The angle will be easier for me.” Chan asks suddenly, pushing at your hip to roll backward. You twist, complying with his request before realizing the new angle puts his left elbow dangerously close to the mound of your pussy. “Thank you.” He wipes away some excess ink, the pressure of his left hand swiping over your abdomen suddenly reminding you of how long it's been since you last had sex.

Too long.

You bite your lower lip to hold back any incriminating noises you might make- between the rumbling machine and Chan's arm draped over you, you can't trust your body not to betray you.

“I'm sorry if this hurts.” Chan's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you glance at him.

“It doesn't.”

“Do you need a break?”

You shake your head. “No, I'm okay.”

His eyes dart to your face as he refills his ink. “Are you sure? You looked like you were in pain.”

You shake your head again. “Really, I'm fine.” You're screaming inside your head at his proximity to your suddenly very needy pussy, but he didn't need to know that. “Thank you for the concern though. You can keep going.”

He watches your face for a moment before resuming his work, and you bite back a groan at the pressure of the needle as it dips closer to the juncture of your thigh. You force your eyes closed and press your lips together, willing yourself to be still and silent while Chan completes the outline of the lily. You lose track of time, mentally sending your thoughts of his hands and things that vibrate out into the stratosphere, trying desperately to think of anything unsexy.

“Okay, I think we're done for today.”

You crack open an eye, then the other. “Really?”

Chan reaches for a bottle of cleanser, squirting some out and wiping down your skin. “Yeah, give me a second to get you cleaned up and then I'll let you take a look before I wrap it.” He finishes cleaning the tattoo, rolling his stool back to give you space. “Alright, go look.”

You sit up, scooting to the edge of the table and sliding off before you scurry to the mirror. When you see your reflection, your mouth drops open. “Oh my god, Chan.” You turn your head to meet his gaze, already on you, eyes clouded with something unspoken. “It's so fucking beautiful.”

A sly grin plays at the corner of his mouth, dimple flashing at you. “Yes, it is.”

xx

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「𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕」 · scene v

❝𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.❞

WC: 8.2k (35 min. avg. reading time)

⚠ — Self-worth/intimacy issues, sexual tension, body worshipping, oral sex (m, f) penetrative unprotected sex, creampie (see masterlist for more).

★ No longer accepting tag requests. Please turn on notifications if you wish to be updated || @jetblackbelle @biribarabiribbaem @cutiespaghetti @inniescandy-01 @straywrds @chlodavids @kileidoscope @seosalad @idkluvutellme @tenshimara @skzworldx @svintsandghosts @hazyspirts @dramaticnobody @vixensss @miin17 @drhsthl @obeythemasters @fairy-jojo @frozenpeasworld @chans1aptop @guiltycoco @starsandrqindrops @nyasstars @stayconnecteed @shiningnono @auslngaq

※ This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

It had been a while since you and Chris worked on a project together, and especially after the night you filmed him, it was kind of helping your mentality to not see him in a… work context. You were able to delude yourself into thinking he was just an actor doing his thing out there, and you were doing just fine ignoring all reality by playing dodgeball with the conversation you needed to have with yourself.

What conversation? There’s nothing to have a conversation about.

You may not have been working together, but it didn’t really make much difference because Chris kept running into you very much on purpose. Appearing at your sets every once in a because he was allegedly bored, dropping by your office for the fuck of it, randomly asking what you were craving right then and bringing that or the closest thing he could find packed as a lunch for two to eat with you… 

All of which would have been perfectly fine if the magnitude of your crush on Chris wasn’t currently about two galaxies wide.

It was obviously flirting galore whenever you saw each other, but you started noticing another side of him that you hadn’t previously experienced.

Underneath all those layers of cockiness, the man was actually a premium-quality dork.

His smugness towards you had mostly dissolved by then. He was indeed more lovable than a Tasmanian devil, and he felt free to be infinitely silly, but only when he was alone with you. You had no idea what prompted the exclusive access privileges to this much softer side of him, but as a horrible side effect, it was fueling your possessiveness over Chris, which completely clouded your professional judgement.

Especially when Alexis was in question.

One day when you were feeling particularly annoyed by her cunt behavior, you straight up decided to forget to tell her about a filming location change. Out of pure pettiness. But when you came to your senses shortly after, you were actually quite ashamed of yourself.

“Just what the fuck am I doing?”

Yes, Chris was exhibiting some signs of vulnerability, but it didn’t necessarily… mean anything. He wasn’t… putting the moves on you per se. Why would he anyway? It was just his brazen self, and he was just feeling comfortable around you.

Comfortable enough to masturbate right next to you?

He is a porn performer.

That wanted you right next to him.

That happens on set every day.

He has sex with you a lot in his head.

I’m just a face. Everybody fantasizes.

Then why did he cum that hard when you said you loved him?

This needed to stop. You urgently needed to save your ass before you fell any deeper into the quicksand because you were running out of ways to refute yourself.

“Guess what I have for you right here,” Jisung knocked on your office door.

“Looks like a script, smells like a script, so I’m gonna say… a script.”

“Correct!” he put the file he was holding on your desk, “The writer specifically requests you to direct this.”

“Are you fucking SERIOUS?!” you screamed, slamming your hands on the table. Jisung burst into one of his heartfelt laughters at your extreme reaction.

Unless you were hired as a director in the first place, the rite of passage to directorship was literally quantified at Petite Mort. You had to have produced a certain number of minutes for projects that required cinematography work much like a pilot trying to obtain a license.

“I– I don’t know what to say! I wasn’t even aware I hit my numbers,” you stood up and bowed to Jisung as hyperbolically as you could manage, “I humbly thank the scriptwriter for the opportunity.” 

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gratitude in person because it’s not me,” Jisung informed you with a knowing smile, “You actually haven’t filled your quota yet. Anita was very impressed by the script, so she made an exception and agreed to the writer’s terms.”

“Then who is it?”

“Look inside.”

You grabbed the folder and turned to the first page, and there it was, right under the title.

Rébellion Romantique —C. B.

“No… no way,” your voice came out very tiny as you looked at Jisung.

“Yes way, indeed. Apparently, everyone’s favorite Aussie has one hell of a pen.”

Your heart fell to your stomach in the best sense of the expression possible. You had no idea he had started writing again. Not only did he start and finish a script, but he also wanted you to direct this?

Your eyes darted to the synopsis right under the title.

After divorcing her husband and finally getting out of the cage of lovelessness, Tina embarks on a journey to rewrite everything she knows about desire and pleasure. Throughout her encounters with all kinds of people, she eventually discovers what love truly means to her. A tribute to the female gaze, human pleasure, and everything left unspoken.

This was supposed to be a script for porn. Fucking porn. Then why were you overcome with this urge to cry all of a sudden?

Oh, you loved this. You absolutely adored this.

“I’ll be your producer for what looks like our flagship production,” Jisung spoke with an utterly endeared look on his face, “Do you have some time to discuss casting?”

Why, yes, maybe your schedule was completely free for the foreseeable future to discuss everything about this project.

Chris had penned such an intricate scenario that the cast was going to be the most crowded one to date because it even included an orgy midway through the story. It automatically meant you had to swallow your pettiness regarding all the decisions made about this movie and be completely professional.

You forbade yourself to treat it like it was personal. Because it wasn’t.

Nevertheless, you and Jisung both had to compromise on one singular matter— after a lot of back and forth, you agreed to keep Alexis as part of the cast, and he agreed not to give her the lead role. You both landed on Kristen instead.

“I think Hyunjin would make a better antagonist than Cole,” you pointed at the character sheet, “The dude has some sinister charms to him, don’t you think?”

“I’ll have the security ready for when Chris walks into the set maybe. They are at each other’s throats on sight,” Jisung uttered with genuine concern and then looked at you with a tinge of reservation, “Which leaves us with our main love interest. Are you sure about this?”

You took a deep breath. You were matching performers to characters for the better half of the past hour, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to place Chris anywhere. Nothing felt ‘just right’ when he was in question. A side role where he barely showed on screen wouldn’t do him justice. This could actually be his big break in the erotic cinema community. On the other hand, giving him the male lead meant that you were going to have to—

Don’t treat it like it’s personal.

You shook your head and snapped out of it.

“Yes,” you responded resolutely, “Yes, I am.”

The day of your first shoot felt like the first day of school for you. A bit of dread of the unknown, a bit of nervousness, but overall anticipation maximized. You greeted the crew and made your way towards the director’s chair, where you had an uninvited guest waiting for you.

“Chris?” you put your bag down, “What are you doing here?” 

“Well, good morning to you, too,” he brightly smiled, “Didn’t Jisung tell you I was coming? I’m here to watch you direct.”

“Talk about micromanaging,” you retorted with excessive amounts of sarcasm.

“It’s not that. I’m here to gain experience,” he sat right next to the director’s chair, “Consider me as your intern.”

“Fine, but if you’re going to hang around, I need you to be on your absolute best behavior, okay?” you picked up the copy of the script crawling with your notes on it, “Don’t make a scene.”

“We’re literally on a set, though.”

“Chris!”

“Yes, boss,” he gestured zipping his lips.

You and Jisung walked towards your performers to go over their directions one last time, then took your seats and let the games begin.

“Quiet on set,” you commanded the entire crew with a firm tone and turned to the screen in front of you, “Action!”

When you started the scene, Chris turned to his left and started observing you instead. You occupying the director’s chair was nothing short of a queen sitting on a throne. You belonged there. The way you were talking to the performers just now… It was almost like you were telling a partner what you liked and what you wanted them to do to you in a very straightforward fashion. There was literally an entire movie unfolding right in front of him, not to mention something he wrote himself, but all Chris could do was watch you be an utter professional. Your passion was a beautiful thing to witness. 

He felt… proud watching you.

Even when the scene started morphing into an extremely steamy sight, you were completely unfazed, watching the screen with sheer seriousness as if you were watching a courtroom drama. He was looking for indications that you were getting turned on, but there wasn’t one obvious physical sign. No irregular breathing, no restless wriggling, no hint of increasing body temperature.

Only your blown pupils.

Chris, on the other hand, was about to cross a dangerous threshold of arousal to the point of losing his mind a little bit because he couldn’t stop associating the scene with you. 

Because the acts he was witnessing were the very things that he wanted to do to you.

He couldn’t help it. At a moment of sudden onset incontinence, he subtly pressed his leg against yours, causing you to briefly turn in his direction, but he was seemingly watching the scene with undivided attention. Then he placed his arm on the right armrest of your chair, and his fingers brushed against yours.

Your heart started thumping in your chest all of a sudden.

The antsiness he was looking forward to seeing all along finally started to manifest itself in you. You pressed your leg against him with a tinge more pressure. His little finger started caressing yours with imperceptible movements to the naked eye. You kept stealing touches from each other throughout that whole scene, and by the end of it, you were both properly frustrated by how much you wanted each other.

However…

The reality was that there was an invisible line drawn between you that shouldn’t be crossed. You weren’t two people that crossed paths under normal circumstances.

And what was worse, Chris was community property.

“Good work today,” you hurriedly removed yourself from the set before giving Chris a chance to say something to fluster you into oblivion, “See you on Monday at 6 AM.”

Still simmering in that inhumane levels of arousal, you left the building so fast that you actually made it home in record time.

After a questionably long shower, you decided to set up your ‘ritual’ setting in your room. Balcony door open and letting a very nice breeze in, sexy as fuck melodies looped in the background and coming out of your speakers in a hushed volume, the dark amber candles dangerously reminding you of Chris lit up to set the mood, a glass of cold rosé, and a bullet vibrator. You sat down on your desk, but not to write. You were about to do some editing tonight. 

Everything was ready and in place, but when you opened the editing software, you were greeted by a warning.

Remaining time: 90 minutes. Insert your portable license or purchase one by following the link.

Then you looked at your USB hub to notice it was indeed empty.

“Oh, fucking great,” you grabbed your phone to call Jisung.

“Yo!”

“Ji, tell me you’re at the office, please.”

“Yup.”

“Do you mind checking my desk to see if I left my portable license there? It’s a little black USB. Otherwise I’m going to panic my ass off.”

“Hang on a second.”

You heard his footsteps and the sound of a door opening in your receiver, and Jisung broke the news to you.

“Yeah, it’s on your desk here.”

“Oh, thank god,” you relaxed in our chair, “Do you mind dropping it off at my place when you get out?”

“Actually, I can’t. I’m taking Anita to dinner tonight.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“I can’t and I WON’T!” he yelled on the other line, “But I can send Kyle to drop it off. That okay with you?”

“You’re awesome, thanks,” then you offered a piece of unsolicited advice, “And don’t forget to take tissues with you. You drool a little too hard over her.”

“You shut the fuck up and I love you.”

Relieved that you would soon have uninterrupted access, you found no harm in using the time you have left. You carefully inserted the vibrator inside you and got to work like this was a very normal course of action for creative endeavors.

You had been contemplating working on this for some time now, but you were a bit hesitant about watching it. It was the footage of Chris you filmed after the party, and now that you were actually on the director’s chair and properly riled up after that workday, you were feeling particularly… inspired.

I can always tell when you get wet because your scent gets denser. And now you’re getting wet just by looking at me across the table. 

It was true. Chris didn’t need any gimmicks or try hard to seduce people; he was a natural. He had that irresistible charm to him that rendered anyone defenseless with one look. It was worse that he knew that because he abused his powers on you for his personal entertainment way too frequently.

I don’t give a fuck if you’re driving. I won’t be able to wait until we get home.

Why was it that when he said the most brazen things at the most random places it was an immediate turn on? What the fuck kind of wizardry was that his shamelessness was bringing out the worst in you, the very things that you were suppressing to masquerade as a normally functioning human being?

I have you right where I want you, and you’re melting.

You hated how true it was. You weren’t a person with weak willpower per se, but when it came to Chris, you always found yourself justifying why you were letting him charm you so. You hated how much you enjoyed this. You despised how it made your ego violently cum every time he insinuated he wanted you.

Everyone who drives by knows what we’re doing, but we don’t give a fuck. We just want each other. They’re watching us. They wish they were us. 

Ever since the very first time you met him, at the very back burner of your imagination, you had always wondered about it. You wondered what it was like to fuck him. You wondered what it was like to have him pleasure you. You wondered whether he was indeed capable of making you forget about what was socially acceptable and have you surrender to him at will, completely erasing everything from your consciousness besides him and the pure rapture he was inducing in you.

What a fucking fascinating underworldly creature of lust you are.

You were so submerged in your autoerotic inner monologue that your heart almost stopped when the doorbell rang.

“Jesus fucking christ!” you jumped in your seat, “Just a second!”

You gingerly removed the bullet, shoved it inside your drawer, and darted to answer the door.

“Kyle, thank you s— Chris?!”

“You asked for delivery?”

Okay, but maybe, just maybe were you in possession of manifestation powers because…

“I thought Kyle was going to come over.”

“Yeah, I may have eavesdropped on their conversation a little bit,” he grinned at you and handed you the USB, “Here.”

“Thank you so much. I’m so sorry for the trouble.”

“No worries. My services are not free, though, so you’re totally buying me drinks later,” he teased with a wink and started descending the stairs, “Good night.” 

“Actually…!”

You had started that sentence a bit too loudly for your own good, but it at least managed to turn Chris around.

“I’ve just opened a bottle of wine if you’d like to join me.”

All of a sudden, his teasing demeanor was, poof, gone. 

“I uh– I don’t mean to intrude if…”

“Well, you kinda did anyway. You know where I live now,” you stepped aside and opened the door for him to come in. He climbed three steps back up and let himself into your apartment with somewhat of a bashful smile.

As you led him to your living room, Chris examined your place as if he was in a museum. The framed posters in the hallway, the colors of your walls, the furniture you owned, the things you chose to decorate. There was a pleasant ambery scent everywhere, and it was tickling his nostrils.

When you brought his glass and sat next to him, you were hit with the realization that Chris was actually in your apartment, sitting on your sofa. You were in shorts and a gigantic t-shirt with flower-patterned flip-flops on your feet.

All of a sudden it felt way too intimate.

“You ran so fast I couldn’t even tell you how awesome you were on set today,” Chris finally spoke.

“Thank you,” you sheepishly smiled at him, “I’m not gonna pretend your presence there wasn’t pressuring, though.”

“Why is that?”

“I mean, it’s your script, hello?” you pointed at him, “That’s like getting your homework checked by your teacher.”

He laughed heartily and sat more comfortably on the couch.

“Come on, I’m just a rookie here.”

“I don’t believe in seniority when it comes to creativity,” you responded in a serious tone.

A brief silence followed as you sipped on your drinks. After contemplating for some time, you finally decided to scratch the itch at the back of your brain.

“Why did you want me to direct this? Jisung would have done a wonderful job.”

“I agree, but he’s a man,” he rested his head on his hand, “This is Tina’s story. It would be a little hypocritical not to consult to the vision of an insanely talented woman, don’t you reckon?”

You felt yourself blushing a bit too intensely and averted your eyes. It really meant a lot to you that he was thinking of you this way.

“Thank you. Really.”

“My absolute pleasure,” his dimples replied on his behalf, “Did you notice anything interesting about her?”

“Was I supposed to?”

He didn’t answer and just stared at you with a vague smile, which prompted you to review all the knowledge you had about Tina. A recent divorcée questioning a lot of things, tempted by her curiosity to find answers. She was indulging in things most people considered filth, things they would shame her for, but at the very end of the day she was only in pursuit of happiness and trying to muster the courage she had lost somewhere along the way. She was one hell of a woman this Tina Frank.

Tina Frank.

Tina.

“If you don’t mind me asking what’s Tina short for exactly?” you asked Chris with creased brows.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “Could be many things. Martina, Christina, Valentina…”

“Christina,” you emphasized, but you were actually asking him a question.

“Could you top me up, please?” he raised you his unfinished glass with a smile.

You obliged and didn’t attempt to drag the conversation on further after that, but it shifted something in you.

A tribute to the female gaze, human pleasure, and everything left unspoken.

You would bitch about his brazenness a lot, complaining that he didn’t know how to be subtle at all, but it turned out Chris could be extremely subtle when he wanted to. You were never going to be able to look at this story the same way again.

“Did you manage to find any other bomb-ass places lately?” you handed him his glass again with nonchalance, “I think we should be able to appreciate things besides hotdogs, too.”

“Wait till I tell you about the pizzeria that just opened by my apartment.”

You didn’t even realize how fast time passed for the rest of the night. Whenever you weren’t about to go crazy lusting after him, it was always very comfortable when you were with Chris, but it had never felt this cozy before. Just the two of you having a wholesome conversation accompanied with ‘Shut up’s, ‘No way’s, and a lot of laughter. At one point, he made you laugh so hard that you actually fell off the couch.

“Can I use your restroom?”

“Sure,” you wiped the tears from your eyes as your laughter died down, “It’s at the end of the hall.”

While he was coming out of the restroom, Chris noticed the soft orange light illuminating the hallway through a door ajar and the music playing inside. He knew proper guests weren’t supposed to snoop around, yet he had never been proper anything other than the resident troublemaker wherever he went. His curiosity got the best of him, and he nudged the door a bit more to peek inside. 

It was your bedroom. 

The light was coming from the candles you had lit some time ago, which were also the source of that pleasant scent. Your bed was unmade, and the clothes you were wearing earlier that day were hung behind a chair. You had a huge desk by the open balcony door, and there was a computer with two gigantic screens on it as well as a video on the preview screen of some editing software.

His pulse dangerously escalated when he realized what he was looking at.

It was the footage of him masturbating on the bed, but what he was surprised to notice was that you were also in the frame.

What he was fucking mindblown to notice was that you were fingering yourself.

He walked to the computer like he was in a trance. He rewinded the video to spot where exactly you started touching yourself to the sight of him. There you were, pulling your dress up and spreading your legs with your breasts already out. He lowered the volume and hit play.

…you taste amazing. I’m licking all over your cunt like you’ve been starving me for days. 

All his memories of you came rushing back to him again. You writing all these lengthy oral scenes but leaving the set every time he performed it on someone, how you were fucking yourself to the thought of him in his waiting room, the way he fingered you while you jerked him off, your lips on him, his lips all over you, touching you, feeling you, when you whispered I love you into his ear…

Chris was so hard under his pants that he was actually in pain.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been gone for— Oh.”

Your voice suddenly echoing in the room gave him a horrible start. He had no idea how he could properly defend himself.

“I’m– I’m really sorry. The door was open and– and I saw myself, and–”

You were also quite embarrassed, but it was him that was caught red-handed, not you.

“I thought I would give it a shot to edit it myself,” you played it cool.

Chris took a few steps towards you and asked in a tone of genuine disbelief.

“You were touching yourself right next to me?”

“You seriously didn’t notice?” you furrowed your brows, “It was a bit… too wet.”

“I was a bit too gone to pay attention to my surroundings, to be honest.”

There it was again. Every time there was an absence of a sound between you two, an explosion hazard suddenly manifested in the room. The tension was unbearable. You would do anything to break that silence and breathe easy a little, but you couldn’t think of one thing to say. As if that wasn’t enough, Chris approached a lot closer and stood right in front of your face.

“I’m gonna ask you a question but please don’t lie to me.”

That was a pretty redundant request because your thinking capabilities had already hit the floor, rendering you completely incapable of producing a lie.

“Do you– Do you want me?”

It wasn’t his usual presumptuous ‘You want me, don’t you?’ that enraged you to no end when you heard it. There was vulnerability in his voice. He actually was not sure, and that’s why he was legitimately asking you. He couldn’t word this any other way because he was just as scared of the consequences as you were.

How would you even describe it? Were you attracted to him? Yes. Were you fantasizing about him? Frequently. But were your feelings only in the realm of basic instinct? Did you want him or did you want him?

You should have had that conversation with yourself. You really should have.

“Because if you do…”

You looked at his face, but he was the one examining the floor now. There weren’t any answers written there, but he just would not look at you.

“That would make me really happy.”

The way he lifted his face up and looked right into your eyes while uttering those last two words. The way your heart skipped a beat. How would you even describe it? 

“And if I don’t?”

He looked heartbroken when you said that. His shoulders drooped, and his eyes returned to having a staring contest with the floor again.

“Then I’ll try harder.”

You weren’t going to be able to endure this anymore.

The playlist comprised of every song that reminded you of Chris was still playing in the background. The candles that reminded you of his perfume were still burning. The gentle night breeze was still blowing on your curtains to make them dance, but it had gotten a bit chilly. You walked past Chris and turned off the monitors. He watched the way your finger pressed the button. He watched how you turned around on your feet and came close to him again. He watched you throw your hands around his neck, and when you finally kissed him, his knees almost gave way.

There seemed to be a pattern every time you kissed. It started soft, just curious moves of your lips trying to remember what it felt like kissing the other, but you both caved to each other so fast that it escalated at record speed. It turned from an act of affection to carnal desire, and there was no telling where that one kiss could end up at if no one stopped it. But you knew.

You knew it would end up in a beautiful disaster.

You took off his white top that didn’t leave much to imagination and let him rid you of the t-shirt you were wearing in lieu of a nightgown. Without even giving him enough time to appreciate your bare torso, you pulled him to your bed.

“This cannot mean anything,” you barely managed to utter in between his relentless kisses.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious!”

Chris attacked your lips in response and refused to stop kissing you. His kisses were alternating between your lips, your neck, and your breasts, but it was getting out of control a bit too fast. You hastily reached for your nightstand drawer for a condom just to notice…

“Oh, fuck me!” 

“What happened?” Chris abruptly stopped, panting hard over you, “You don’t have protection?”

“It didn’t occur to me to have some just in case an impromptu escapade develops. I’ve been in a prolonged dry spell,” you confessed a bit too candidly, “Don’t you have any on you?”

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to get lucky tonight.”

You both heaved deep sighs and laid there in frustration for a while, but this was worse than trying to get a hold of yourself in public. Chris was literally to your right, topless, trying to calm down his breathing, and not to assume anything, but you were pretty convinced he was also cursing a mouthful to his luck.

“If you’re willing to…” you uttered with a tinge of reservation while watching the ceiling, “I’m on contraceptives.”

“Oh,” Chris turned to his left, but he looked a bit flustered, “I’ve never… Like…”

“Fucked anyone raw before?” you completed his sentence on his behalf.

“When you’re in my line of work, that’s like swimming with the piranhas that feed on fire-breathing electric eels.”

“I get that, but I mean surely you had girlfriends before, right? It’s not like you never…”

You trailed off, waiting for a confirmation from him, but all that followed was silence.

“Seriously?!” your eyes widened in surprise, “You know quite literally everything else, but you really don’t know what it feels like to raw dog?”

“I mean how different can it be really?”

“Let’s just say the difference is skinny dipping versus having a wetsuit on,” you informed him and offered an alternative, “I guess you can go out and buy some. I clearly need to replenish my stocks anyway.”

You genuinely didn’t mean anything else by it. It wasn’t even a sarcastic comment, but Chris got ticked off pretty bad over what you just said.

“I’m not buying you condoms just so you can practice safe sex with other people.”

What the hell was happening exactly?

“Who said anything about other people?” you looked at him in bewilderment.

“You did.”

“You did!”

“You did say you clearly needed to replenish your stocks.”

“I literally told you I was in a dry spell, and also we could do it without a condom.”

“And I told you I’ve never had sex without protection before.”

“And I’m giving you my consent, what’s the m—?”

He shut you up by swiftly pulling you into a kiss. How the hell he did it you had no idea. Chris would kiss your lips and all of a sudden you would forget what you were pissed off about. Unconventional apology method for sure, but it worked. It worked like a charm.

He abruptly stopped and his face turned worried for some reason.

“Are you…?”

He was clearly hesitating. You could see whatever it was he was trying to say was… hurting him. He mustered his courage and finally decided to face the music.

“Are you sure it’s not going to disgust you to sleep with me?”

You honestly didn’t follow where the heck that came from. 

“Disgust me?” you asked him with genuine confusion in your eyes, “Why would it disgust me?”

Chris averted his eyes from you and gnawed on his lips, not knowing how to properly word this. He couldn’t hold your gaze as he responded to you.

“I’m pretty used, you see.”

Your heart broke into a million fucking pieces that he was thinking of himself that way. Oh, you wanted to hug him. Oh, you wanted to pull him into a tight embrace and never let go. What the fuck did he even mean used? He wasn’t some piece of goddamn merchandise; he was a human being with feelings.

You swallowed a sob that threatened to escape your throat and turned on the sass mode instead to diffuse the tension.

“So? Just because people don’t record every sexual encounter they have doesn’t mean they didn’t have numerous partners before,” you shrugged carefreely, “The only difference is that you can’t lie about it whereas many people do.”

He looked a bit relieved hearing you say that but was still somewhat on edge.

“Well… Did you?”

“Have many partners? Not really,” you honestly answered him, “Does that make me a self-righteous prude in your eyes?”

“Of course not!”

You placed the tiniest of kisses on his nose and smiled.

“Exactly.”

He smiled back. It wasn’t a grin. It wasn’t a smirk. It was that devastating smile that framed his dimples perfectly. Your heart fluttered seeing that again.

“Your eyes are beautiful, you know,” you touched his face and caressed his cheek, “But they look a bit sad.”

He averted his eyes again, but rather than discomfort, he got legitimately shy this time. 

“Don’t look away from me,” you insisted on holding his gaze.

As you were getting lost in the little galaxies he carried in his eyes, you played with his hair. He leaned into your touch. You laid him down right next to you and whispered.

“Close your eyes now.”

He did as he was told and you kissed him again. You brushed his hair with your fingers as he pulled you into his embrace and started caressing your back. Your hands traveled down to unbutton his pants. He dragged your waistband down to get rid of your shorts. You ended up stripping each other fully, never once leaving each other’s lips.

“It’s been a while since you appreciated this, hasn’t it?” you smiled into his kiss. 

But Chris wasn’t smiling. He was looking at you with eyes you had never seen before. Deeper than an abyss and louder than a deafening thunder. Begging you to figure it out yourself because he just couldn’t say it.

Without saying anything, he turned you around to lie facedown. You felt his lips on your nape momentarily, making you shudder all over. He started kissing your back, drawing a trail down your spine, and eventually reaching your waist. It felt incredible. He was so gentle with his movements, but he was burning every piece of skin he kissed, and it was turning you on so bad.

He turned you around again, making his way from your crotch, up your breasts, and to your lips one more time. With every kiss he landed on your skin, you felt the bruises you didn’t even realize you had disappear a little bit. You felt the pleasant itch of a wound turning into a scar. You felt relief. 

You also wanted to heal just a tiny part of him. You also wanted to soothe whatever was making him flinch in pain when no one was looking.

You pulled him under you and started drawing your own map on him. From his neck to his shoulders, from his chest to his abdomen, down to his crotch where he was flushed pink and dripping around his slit. When you made a move to kiss his cock, Chris immediately stopped  you.

“You don’t– You don’t have to. Really. I’m o—”

You stared at him as he kept rambling. You kissed the hand that was stopping you, and gently removed it while holding his gaze. Then you closed your eyes and kissed his smooth skin. You kissed him like you were blowing on a painful burn. You kissed him like you were singing lullabies to him to calm down. You kissed him like you were pacifying him. His stutters eventually came to a halt, and he completely surrendered to you. His clenched muscles finally loosened as he relaxed into the bed.

Then he started truly enjoying the feeling of being pleasured in your mouth. 

It felt so intense. More intense than any other instance he’d experienced before. You weren’t rushing him into finishing. You weren’t even trying to make him cum. Licking slow stripes on his cock, slurping on his precum, having him leisurely sink into your mouth until his tip reached the back of your throat, just savoring his taste. You had nowhere else to be. 

Chris was so overwhelmed that he was pressing his palms on his eyes, letting himself get nuked by unmatched bliss. He felt like he was being possessed by something, or like he was drowning but it was such a pleasant feeling. Then he opened his eyes and started watching you. The way you were pressing your lips all over him. The way you were enjoying him. He felt so naked and defenseless in front of you that he wanted to cry. But he moaned instead. He moaned louder when you wrapped your lips around him again. He moaned louder when you moved your tongue on his popping veins again. He moaned even louder when you started stroking him in the same rhythm as you were blowing him. He moaned the loudest when you let out content hums with him fully in your mouth as he shot his entire load down your throat just like in his fantasies. You crawled your way back up and kissed his lips for a while until he came down. He basked himself in his taste on your tongue.

When he was able to perceive the world through normal vision again, Chris slowly pushed you down to have you lie on your back, and started paying some much-deserved attention to your breasts. He loved watching your nipples get that hard and he was finally able to tease them in his mouth for the first time. God, what a beautiful thing you were. What a beautiful, sexy, angelic lust demon you were with that tattoo hugging your body, turning him on beyond humanely possible. He traced every single detail on it with his tongue until he finally reached your crotch, torturing you with the anticipation of what he was going to do to you next.

Chris remembered your taste. It was only a couple of drops, but he still remembered it like it was yesterday. Tastiest fucking thing on earth, especially so because he’d got you soaking like that in the first place. And now he was directly looking at the source, an infinite number of servings right in front of him to stuff himself full to his heart’s content.

He tenderly caressed your pussy with his thumb first, carving every detail into memory. What your clit looked like when aroused, how you throbbed when he even slightly teased you, the shape of your folds before he sucked the life out of you. 

Then he dragged his tongue from your entrance up to your clit and smeared your juices everywhere. He spat on your pussy just for his viewing pleasure, just to watch some bodily fluid of his drip down your cunt. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and his lips around your clit, sucking, and sucking, and sucking on you some more.

You were a mess under him. 

“Do you like it?” Chris broke the deafening silence with a barely audible whisper, “Am I pleasing you right?”

A part of you wanted to ride the shit out of his face, but another part of you wanted this to last forever. He changed his ministrations from sucking to licking slow stripes on you with occasional kisses right under your clit every once in a while. The pressure of his tongue was just right, and he was already flying you out of your body.

“It feels… it feels fucking… perfect,” you barely managed to speak as your eyes rolled back.

When you moaned like that, Chris felt himself get hard again. He shifted in his place to be able to reach his cock and started stroking himself in a very lazy rhythm while slowly licking you. The sight of him doing that was so fucking erotic that it put you in a hypnotic state of arousal. You couldn’t talk. You didn’t know what words were anymore. All you could produce was incoherent sounds of pleasure in varying frequencies. Quiet, sudden increase in volume, a decrescendo, quiet again, a crescendo, a frustrated whine, a delighted moan, a crescendo, and a decrescendo again.

He kept edging you thinking it would maybe cause you to beg, but you didn’t mind it at all. If he was down for it, who were you to tell him to hurry up and finish you? You were enjoying this a bit too much for your own good. Just him in your bed, between your legs, soaking you through your sheets all the way to your mattress, perhaps enjoying himself a bit more than you. 

He was drawing languid circles around your clit and freehand lines on your folds, then spreading your pussy lips to suck on you a bit more, but the amount you were oozing didn’t seem to satisfy him. Then he started stimulating you more aggressively, lapping at your clit, licking into your entrance, fucking you excruciatingly shallowly with his tongue, smearing his entire face with your slick and fucking loving it.

“CHRIS!!!”

It was everything he wanted to hear. You, screaming his name as you came into his mouth, clawing your bedsheets with how overwhelmed you were, losing yourself in narcotic pleasure only he could provide for you. You kissed each other deep for a long time afterwards, exploring what your flavors mixed with each other tasted like. Chris rested his back against your headboard and pulled you on top of him.

“Come up.” 

You took your time straddling him, and the closer he got to being inside you, the more nervous he was feeling as if he was about to lose his virginity to you all over again. 

This was really happening.

Call it ridiculous, but experiencing a first with you in whatever capacity felt very weirdly intimate to him. His eyes were intently glued on your pussy as you aligned yourself with him, and when he finally started sinking into you, a drawn-out hiss fell from his lips until he bottomed out. You held his gaze and clenched hard with a smirk on your face.

“Yes!” Chris slammed his hands on your sides, “Squeeze me.”

He held your waist and disappeared into while you grinded on him to meet him halfway. You were so tight around him that stretching you for himself was mindnumbingly delicious.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” Chris asked with a grin.

“What if I am?”

“I don’t give a shit and I’m still creampieing you.”

You both started laughing in unison, and he pulled you close for a kiss. You were somewhat scared of this moment getting ruined, and you could almost swear that Chris was feeling the same way. You closed your eyes to relish the feeling of each other meeting in the most secluded corners of your body.

You felt so full every time he slid inside, but not in a carnal way. In a this feels so right way. On the flip side, for the first time in a long time, Chris didn’t feel like lost half anymore. He felt complete when he was inside you. He felt whole. 

If you wanted this to last forever, then Chris wanted it to last forever times infinity. 

“Lay down on my chest.”

Chris kept fucking into you, he couldn’t stop kissing your face. Your forehead. Your nose. Your cheeks. Your lips. Your jawline. 

You moaned a tinge louder when he kissed your neck, and he felt you clench around him.

“Is it this spot?”

He deepened the kiss on your neck, and you felt your skin getting wetter. God, you loved this feeling. You tangled your fingers in his disheveled hair. You kissed his temple. You kissed the crown of his head. He throbbed inside you.

You suddenly found yourself on your back with one swift turn, and Chris put your legs on his shoulders. When he started fucking you hard, your hands traveled up his forearms and landed on his biceps. You scratched him, and he went faster. You scratched him harder, and he went even faster.

“D–drawer,” you pointed at your nightstand, “Bullet.”

“Tell me what you want me to do. Ah, fuck!” Chris threw his head back when he hit a dead end inside you, but slowed down to allow you to speak properly, “Words, baby, use your words.”

You clenched so fucking hard that it almost made him cum.

“Did you just call me baby?”

He faltered for a moment not knowing how to respond to that, but you didn’t seem angry. If he was in his right mind, he could come up with a clever way to slither out of this, but he didn’t see any point in lying at that moment.

“I think it suits you,” he smiled at you warmly instead.

Chris opened your drawer to grab the vibrator, but he couldn’t help his surprised smile, barely dodging bursting into laughter.

“Isn’t this the bullet I gave you that one time?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Why are you embarrassed? I’m literally balls deep in you.”

You attempted to grab it from his hands, but he didn’t let you have it. He turned it on and placed it on your clit himself, and the volume of your moans suddenly peaked.

“Feels good, yeah?”

“Deeper,” you sank your fingertips into his arms, “Fuck me deeper!”

He changed his angle and started hitting a spot inside you. It felt soft. Wetter than usual. It felt… It sorta felt like—

“How the fuck are you blowing me when I’m inside you?!”

“That’s it right there!” you held onto him for dear life, “Hit that hard.”

Your words made him throb so fucking hard that it almost made you cum.

“Did you just tell me to hit that?”

You thought you said something wrong in the heat of the moment, but when you looked into Chris’ eyes, you saw something maniacal in them. He reappeared right before your eyes something very akin to a goddamn incubus.

“Oh, I’ll hit that. I’ll hit that good,” he started fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts, “I’ll hit that so hard, you’ll be seeing stars for a week… baby.”

The moment you started contracting around him in shorter intervals, Chris urged you to snap your eyes open.

“Look at me,” he panted heavily over you, “Don’t. Don’t ever forget this feeling. Ever.”

Then he turned the intensity of the vibrator on your clit to the maximum, and you arched into him, feeling your soul get ripped out of your body.

“That’s my fucking girl,” Chris contorted his face in utter pleasure as you came all over his cock, and let himself spill inside you. Again. And again. And again until he collapsed. 

There were only sounds of heavy panting in the room for a while as neither of you was able to come down. At long last, Chris managed to turn to his side to look at you and immediately broke into a very content smile.

“You’re glowing,” he drew circles with his index finger on your chest, “I kinda dig this look on you.”

“Just sh–”

“Shut up, I know,” he kissed your smile, “I’ll shut up.”

He turned you to your side, kissed the spot between your shoulder blades, then wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You were just finished fucking each other’s brains out, but you still felt his semi on your hips. He was subtly grinding on you, thinking you wouldn’t notice maybe, but you couldn’t help laughing.

“You can, by the way.”

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you trying to slither your way into cockwarming?”

“You said it, not me. Since you insist,” he snugly slid inside you, but of course it didn’t stop there.

“Behave.”

“But then who’s gonna fuck my cum deeper into you?”

“Chris…”

“Fuck, that feels a bit too good,” he started caressing your pussy while lazily fucking into you, “I kinda need another round.”

“Christopher!”

“Oh yeah, baby, say my full name. You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”

You both burst into loud laughters as Chris opted for tickling the crap out of your first, but it calmed down soon with his kisses all over your face. It was just so easy to give in to him. Then another round started where he made you cum. Then another started where you made him cum. Then another. Then another. You fucked each other until the darkness clocked out and changed shifts with the morning. Until you were both too damn sore and spent to go on.

It was finally quiet in your room. There was only peaceful silence. You were laying on your side with your back turned against Chris, gently breathing, and Chris’ head was buried in the crook of your neck.

“You just see right through me, don’t you?” he softly whispered with a broken smile and kissed your hair, “Of course it wasn’t about buying some damn condom. I just…” 

He took a deep breath, careful not to wake you up, and continued.

“I’ve never made love to someone before. I don’t know how. I didn’t– I didn’t want you to think…”

Giving up on trying to stitch words together, he quietly pleaded to you, wishing he could wear his heart on his sleeve instead.

“I’m so scared you’re going to regret this. Please don’t regret this,” he hugged you tighter and finally drifted to sleep.

Chris thought you were sleeping all along, but you were wide awake since that very first sentence. You could try going back to sleep maybe, but the tears running down your face wouldn’t let you be.

This cannot mean anything, you had urged him.

But it fucking did.

「© 2023, exxxtraoddinary · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

Marital Duties

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Word count: 9.4k

Genre: Established relationship, married

Warning: SMUT (18+ only), phone sex, sexting, car sex, mention of boobs, oral sex (f. receving), penetration, swearing, mention of cum, mentions of pussy, kissing, praise

Note: ok i kinda nervous to post this but yas! Here is my inspo (here) (here) (here) warning it’s literally p word.

Tagged: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree @kpopsstuffs

Summary: Having a job that meant travelling and spending time away from your husband made the absence grow much fonder for you and your needs, as well as your husbands.

Work conferences were the bane of your existence. Yes you were away from your kid and sometimes it was hard, but being away from your husband was harder. There was no doubt about your job. Being a world renowned forensic psychologist was amazing and something you wanted for a long time. Sometimes though, it was nice to just curl up on the couch, read a good book, watch a comforting movie; there was nothing wrong with indulging in self-care, you just did not have the time to do so. 

The recent promotion into becoming head of the north-west region of mental health care was a big step up from your previous job. No one than you was more qualified for this. Everyone, colleagues and board members put your name up. Psychology was your life, but your family was bigger. 

Highschool sweethearts, you and your husband had been inseparable since what felt like the dawn of time. Meeting at 15, having your first dance at 17 at prom. Graduating and going to college together; If you had a dollar for everytime you accomplished a big milestone with him or because of him, you would be swimming in luxury. When the two of you got married, things just fell into place even more. The doubt of being able to help people mentally after graduating from your post grad made you nervous, but then again, you never thought that you would be married to such a wonderful man. A dream job at your local hospital fell into your lap, and your husband became the nurse that everybody wanted to assist them with their care. Working in close contact with him everyday was just another blessing in disguise; you simply could not get enough of him. It was impossible to get sick of him.

That was when you decided to have your first child. What could be a better mix than the two of you combined? The first 4 years of parenthood came with its challenges. Nevertheless, it was the best decision you ever made, and you couldn’t think of anyone better than to share the unfamiliar journey with.

The promotion, however, meant that you wouldn't work with your husband as much, and spending time with your daughter was a little limited, but you knew he would never tell you to turn something down, and in a way it was the best decision for your marriage. The times together were shorter, but it also meant that every moment was savored tenfold. The time was better quality, the acts of service more thoughtful, and the sex. The sex, was that much more passionate, just like the first time he made love to you. He would always find ways to surprise you. Whether it was the way he grasped, grabbed you on the fibers that lingered to be touched, the way his body pressed upon yours, lips lingering on new places. You were always amazed with how much he could do, and what he was capable of.

These are the ideas that tortured your mind when you were away on business trips. Calling him and hearing his voice, seeing his face through the tiny phone screen was not enough. It didn’t matter how long you had been together, you always craved and missed him significantly.

“Hang on,” he whispered through the phone speaker, “someone wants to say hi to you.”

Your heart beamed with joy every time you saw her little face on the screen. God she looked like her dad, and you knew she'd  grow up to be a beautiful woman.

“Hi mommy,” she giggled, fingers crinkling then uncrkinly as she waved at the camera, “I miss you mommy.”

“Aw baby,” you pouted, “I miss you too. Mommy will be home tomorrow. Now it’s time for you to sleep.”

“Yes,” he cooed, “and daddy is going to read you a bedtime after you say goodnight to mommy.”

Your baby squealed with joy, running out of the frame and to her room. You could do nothing but chuckles, careless that she was that excited over a book of words that she forgot to say goodnight.

“Let me call you back at 15.”

You nodded, pressing the red cross before rolling on your back and looking up at the ceiling, admiring the off white paint color, heart beating out of your chest every second that the callback was not made. It’s not that you were worried he wouldn’t call back, you just felt that longing you always did when you weren’t looking at him.

The vibration on your chest was extra sensitive. You rolled back over, now lying on your front with your hand resting on your chin, other hand holding the phone as you answered. 

“Hey baby.”

“Hiiii,” you whispered, a smile on your face impossible to be rid of.

“She was out like a light.”

“I’m glad.”

“How was your day, baby? I want to hear all about it.”

You giggled as you saw him get up, walking into the bathroom of your house as he placed you against the bench next to the sink. Chan wasn’t shy. He thought it was completely normal to remove his scrubs and leave his upper body bare as he bent down to the bottom drawer, taking out his skincare and placing it on his face. Chan was your husband. You had seen him shirtless 100 more times than you could count. It should not affect you this much. It should not make the temperature of your cheeks rise. It should not cause a sudden sharpness of change in your breath. It should not make your eyes bulge, and it should definitely not send you into a head spin when his biceps flexed when washing his face. Being a clinical psychologist meant having pristine precision and concentration, so if anybody got a hold of this live footage right now, they might question your profession.

“Y/n, Y/n?”

You blinked, quickly snapping your head to get back in the game. It was too late, however, your husband was already smirking at your distraction. You could try and play it off, but the both of you knew that he was too smart to fall for that.

“Sorry babe, I’m a bit distracted.”

“Oh yeah? What’s distracting you?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “you know exactly what you are doing.”

“Me?” He gasped, placing a hand on his chest, flexing his opposite bicep, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his obvious attempt to woo you over, the subtle flirt. Sometimes it was easy to resist, but in this case, it was easier to play along, feign innocence until he truly told you what he wanted. The two of you liked to play such games, especially when you were on the road. It was time for you to sit up, placing Chan on the lamp atop of the bedside table before placing yourself on the edge of the hotel bed. The buttons on your shirt were suddenly feeling a little tight. The smirk on your husband’s face grew the moment he saw the first two buttons undone, a sneak peak of your cleavage making its debut for the night. You stopped there, gently pulling down the fabric, stretching the collar of the shirt, consequently putting your chest on full display. 

“Two can play that game Mr. Bang.”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips as he walked over to your shared bedroom, placing his phone in similar fashion to yours before removing his bottoms, your husband now in nothing but his boxers as he laid down, stretching out his legs before lifting you again, wanting the closest view to your fingers continuing to remove one button at a time, a painfully slow movement to your fingertips. Fuck. Now he kind of regretted starting this game with you tonight. A gasp of gratification spilt from Chan’s lips as he watched the satin material that made up your shirt slither off those, in his words, gorgeous shoulders of yours. The black lace bra, the one being your husband’s favorites out of pure coincidence the only garment covering your chest. 

Chan loved every part of you, make no mistake. He would worship every part of your body 24/7 if he could. He simply could never get enough of you, but your chest, your breasts were on a whole different level. Chan loved your boobs. It didn’t matter what the two of you were doing, promiscuous acts or not, if he could have his hands on them, he could. Cuddling, sex, hugs; call him a pervert, but he didn’t care. It was his wife for god sakes. He would feel abnormal if he wasn’t attracted to them. Conveniently for you, this was something you could play to your advantage. Didn’t want to do the dishes? Show him your cleavage. Needed to put your daughter to sleep but you wanted him to do it? Promise him to show your cleavage after he does so. It was a convenient weapon to use, and this was the perfect time to use it. It was fair, seeing as he was using the weapon of his own to try and get you where he wanted.

“Aw come on,” he whined, “you did that on purpose?”

“Did what,” you smiled, fingers gently tracing the lace attached to the strap, “I didn’t do anything.”

Tapping the phone screen, you sighed. It was like, and your flight home was something that required you getting up much earlier that you would ever prefer. You should go to sleep. Hang up on him. You were going to see him tomorrow anyway, surely you could suppress your urges until then. 

But then you saw your husband redirect his palm from the outside of his undergarment, which was obvious to the eye, to the inside, a gentle slap against his skin as it dived past the waist band. Fuck this was cruel now. Not only because you could see his hands subtly tumbling underneath, he drew attention to how hard he already was, and you didn’t know what aroused you more: his probaby pulsating length or the fact that he was as aroused as he was because of you. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred, Chan always had a way of making you feel special. Physically, emotionally, intimately; it was part of his aura, and one of the main reasons that you were so attracted to him in the first place.

“Baby,” you gasped, hands traveling up waist and to your chest, gently kneading the mass in an attempt to match his slow pace that he was palming himself, “you’re so naughty. I have to go to bed.”

“Aw come on baby,” he groaned, head resting atop the headboard, gaze even more piercing at the angle his head was at rest, “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I know Chan,” you sighed, your next words going to be knowingly disappointing for him, “I have to check out at 3am and it’s already almost 10. You know what I’m like when I don't get my beauty sleep.”

Chan gave you a disapproving pout as he took his hands out of boxers, a shiny ring reappearing from the undergarment as he took the phone with both and lay flat on his back, sinking under the sheets and head gliding onto the pillow. He was humbly accepting defeat, most likely because he would see you tomorrow anyway; that’s when he could have his fun.

“I know baby it’s ok,” he smiled, bringing his face as close as possible to the camera, lips still pouting, “let me give you a kiss goodnight.”

“Thank you baby,” you giggled, also leaning forward to kiss the phone screen simultaneously before whispering a small, “goodnight.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and the adrenaline from your almost raunchy rendezvous over the phone wore off quickly. You weren’t that young anymore. Getting tired was much easier. There was much less energy, especially after getting riled up like that. Even if it was what you saw while you were sleeping in your dreams, and you only have to wait 12 hours to see your beautiful husband in the flesh. 

***

The alarm caused a fright, a deep groaning sound of annoyance bellowing from you, but that quickly wore off. The immediate thought of seeing Chan and your beautiful daughter being the main reason for your sudden change in temperament. Your bags were already packed and you organized your brain knowing that you would be too tired to do it in the morning The smile on your face couldnt dared to be wiped off once you were in the taxi. The cool breeze of the warm summer hitting your face as you pushed the window in the back seat halfway down. Summer was your favorite time of the year, especially since it was the time you got to spend with your family that was of the best quality. All of the aspects of your job you loved, even the times you traveled. However, your heart did sink a little when you had to travel at this time of the year. The school holidays always felt too short, so when you had to travel, the amount was even shorter.

A ding from your phone brought out of your somewhat solemn daze, heat creeping to your cheeks immediately:

[hubby <3] 7:00 am Can’t wait to see you, hope there aren't any delays at the airport.

*one attachment*

Jesus fuck. Now sending a full blown dick pick with your daughter in the car, which you assumed was there, was definitely not the way to go; and thank god your husband knew that. But that did not let him off the hook. It was a photo of him, in the mirror, with his face cut off and only his lips in the frame. He was wearing a black sleeveless tank and those fucking grey tracksuit pants. Call yourself cliche, but nothing turned you on more than that particular piece of clothing. Chan had one hand on the camera, the other hand at the base of his hardened length. He always did this. As mature as Chan was, the times he chose to be inappropriate truly were the most inconvenient for you. A loud gasp escaped your lips, head almost hitting the chair in front as the driver came to a halt.

“Everything okay back there?”

“Uh yes,” your head snapped towards him, nodding furiously as a terrible attempt at acting in the norm, “why did we stop?”

“We are at the airport, miss?”

His tone sounded one of question, kind of looking at you in the rear mirror like you were one of the strangest passengers he had. You looked outside, a ferocious laugh escaping your lips as you decided it was better to say nothing and just pay, get out, and grab your own luggage. The awkwardness left your mind in shambles. How dare he send such a photo. Your husband. It was most likely to get revenge from last night, because he knew you would have to sit on the plane and suffer in silence.

Your luggage was checked in quickly, security easy to get through; there was plenty of time to wait in the boarding lounge. At first you were annoyed by the message. The sexual frustration that had already accumulated from your absence away from him was enough, but if anything, it felt like this was an extra punishment for last night.

But then you opened it again, started analyzing it (if you could call it that) until your finger was subconsciously in your mouth. It didn’t matter how many times you looked at him, your husband, he was always going to do it for you, every single time. The ache that has been coming and going throughout the week returned, and it made you annoyed. So annoyed that you found yourself lifting your butt from your chair, walking to the bathroom and locking yourself in one of the stalls. Gripping the bottom of your shirt, you pulled it down as much as you could without taking it off, mimicking a downward looking angle in an attempt to copy your husband, lips down as the camera clicked, off silent. Fuck. It’s fine. The idea that people may have heard the sounds of you taking a photo in the toilet. You were too fueled with a horny rage to think of the ramifications as you sent your photo, giving in and responding to him.

[Y/N] 8:30am No delays. Make sure you’re there on time.

*one attachment*

Oh, he was gonna hate that. Chan had patience for a lot of things. But short, dry messages were something that made him mad. Serves him for sending you that first. You knew exactly what his reaction would be as well, but at least you could board the plane in peace.

**

It was around 3 hours before the plane arose from one location and landed in another. The plane ride was painful. You tried to do the things you usually would. Create drafts for your patients, read a book, watch a downloaded netflix movie, and just sink into your non-reclining chair and relax; but you simply couldn’t.

The brain rot that was the simple image of your husband’s half naked torso should not be affecting you this much. But that was the problem too. It wasn’t just the picture. That image was the catalyst for the sexual rumination that had been numbing your brain for the past week. The want to get home was even stronger now knowing that you really had something to look forward to.

Of course, to your dismay and longing, the baggage claim took forever, security had a long line, and by the time all of that had been completed, it was, of course, an hour schedule that you told your husband to come and pick you up. The look on his face was sour to say the least. There he was, leaning against the exterior of your shared four wheel drive, drinking his probably now lukewarm coffee. The tingle instantly came back to your core, feeling like a teenage girl again. The scene was just like old times. Chan, waiting around the corner from your house to come and pick you up. The only thing that was different was that it was slightly taller, and had a few more wrinkles. Nonetheless, he looked super hot. Still wearing those grey sweatpants, and a fucking black tank. A fucking blank tank that was probably the tightest fitting pieceing of clothing in his fucking closet. His stance was strong, biceps, triceps, and ¾ of his pecs bulging out in public, and it was truly making your brain dizzy. You walked over quietly, the jarring sound of your suitcase wheels rolling along the parking lot concrete ruining the suspense of your arrival. Chan’s head snapped, eye widening the moment you appeared in his vision. 

“Hi baby, sorry I’m late the customs took for-”

The interruption was welcome as Chan shoved his phone in his pocket, apparently with an empty takeaway coffee cup falling to the floor as he enveloped you into his arms, a groan of admiration falling from his lips as they immediately attached to yours, your body to relaxing against his, eyes fluttering shut at his touch. God, it was only a week. One week, but you craved his touch more than anything in the world. It truly was the little things such as his calloused textures, the warmth of his skin, his smile. Holy fuck his smile was, in your opinion, the greatest thing in the world that ever existed. 

“Mmmh,” you hummed, gently pulling away, hands snaking across your husband’s waist, a smug smile on your lips, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too baby,” he growled, morning raspiness to his tone, “how was your flight?”

The implication of his question made your eyes ogle, the visual image of his text message imprinting on your brain. The smirk that developed on his face formed the expression of realization that hit you. Suddenly his grip on your waist was tighter, and Chan was pulling you in even closer, leaving you to feel everything; yes, everything. 

“It was good,” you giggled, knowing that you had been caught, “what was not good was your behavior since last night.”

“Hmm is that so? I don't see this being a one-sided activity?”

Your right hand left his torso, smacking him on the chest before taking a step back and walking to the car. It was fun to pretend to be annoyed, especially because you knew it would work your husband up even more. Chan hated when you sulked, especially when he playfully called you out. Chan always liked games, and so did you, because you knew that there was always one thing it would lead to. The longer the game went on, the more passionate the ending to this game would be. You walked into the car, peacefully sitting in the passenger seat as you left your husband to take your suitcase and place it in the boot. Serves him right for being a smartass. There was no sound except for the car door once the two of you were inside. The ignition was turned on, and so were you, watching your husband's arm reach over to the shoulder of your car seat, his head turned to look behind him. This was so dumb! You really should not be aroused by this; you’ve seen him do this thousands of times.

“You okay babe?”

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of this lustful daze, “yeah, why?”

“Ok it’s just,” he paused, shifting into drive, then placing his hand on the inside of your thigh, “you’re staring at me like a piece of meat.”

“I am not,” you scoffed, “you wish I was staring at you like that.”

He said nothing, a light chuckle following as the car fell into another silence. A comfortable one at that, well, to an extent. His thumb was gently nudging at your skin, knuckles inching closer to your center. There was something in the air, and the longer it lingered, the harder it was to ignore it. The want. The need to have him. It was impossible. You knew that even if you did get home soon that your daughter was home, and there was no way you were going to traumatize her like that; kids remember everything. If you took too long in the car, your father would get suspicious. He was one to get on your nerves like that, especially if he spent more time than agreed to watching your beautiful child. 

“I got your text message this morning.”

Chan’s eyes were on the road, which forced you to keep yours. Your eyebrows furrowed however, knowing that the street he just turned down was not the right way to your house. Instead, Chan turned the opposite direction, the car coming to an immediate stop at a lookout, but not just any lookout. The lookout east. The two of you came from a small town, meaning there weren't many spots to go; that was until the lookout east was uncovered. Back then it was the talk of the town, the go to hookup spot for many. You have seen it yourself. It had a beautiful view however, and most of the time you and Chan would go just to admire the view, but did not mean that every time would be an innocent one. The two of you had not been in years, and there was a big question mark as to why you were here right now. Chan said nothing, getting out of the car and walking over to your side, opening your own door before opening the back door, crawling in with you following. The two of you got comfortable, that was, until Chan pinned you down to the back seat, lips once again attacking yours as he pressed his horny groin into yours, a deep groan bellowing from your husband's chest. His dominance was easy to comply with, the desperate moan falling from your lips a culmination of feelings from the past 12 hours. This really could have been the horniest you have ever been in your whole entire life, even including the times of excessive sexual hormonal changes during pregnancy. His tongue snaked past your lips, without any slight of permission as his hips fell into a gentle rhythm. Chan moved with such delicacy and poise, yet somehow he was able to convey his ultra high level of arousal. Now you were in big trouble; it was serious business when Chan pinned you down like that. It meant he had serious business to take care of. 

“Chan,” you tried to speak, his lips interrupting each word, “what, are you doing?”

He pulled away, sitting up. Chan said nothing, eyes fixated on your chest as he grasped your wrist to pull you up, your body clumsily falling into him as you fixed your balance. Chan was quick to attack your lips again, hands making light work as they gripped onto the edge of your shirt. Your arms lifted unconsciously, allowing the kiss to break as he took off your shirt, your upper body in nothing but your undergarments. Your husband was like a kid in a candy store the moment he saw the slightest bit of cleavage. Chan’s arms wrapped around your back as he effortlessly unclasped the unwanted fabric, lips immediately attaching to your left nipple. A gracious moan fell from your lips, a hand tickling the back of the hair at the base of his skull, keeping a guidance. At first this tongue was small, gentle. A few kitty licks right in the center. Although it was minimal touch, you were one to have more sensitive nipples, so the feeling was already heaven enough. It wasn’t until his entire mouth was attached, a parietal noise of vacuum escaping his lips each time your tit went in and out of his mouth. 

“Mmmmm,” you hummed, back arching slightly at the subtle texture of his teeth, “you’re like fuckin newborn.”

“Mhh can’t help it,” he huffed, out of breath, hand replacing his lips for a brief moment, “makes me want to have another kid.”

Chan gave you no time to reply, lips resuming their position, but now on the opposite nipple. His fingers never stopped moving, either on your shoulder, running up and down your arms, but mainly on your breasts, doing whatever he can to feel you. Each squeeze of the mound brought a whine to your throat. His statement ran through your mind and just stayed there. Having another kid was not really something the two of you had ever spoken about. It wasn’t that it was off the table, no. It truly was just something that had not come up in conversation. You could understand why he wanted to have one, and in this moment especially, it had nothing to do with having an actual child. 

It is true that when you met your husband, your body shape resembled more of a P, but when you were pregnant with your daughter, Chan was on another planet. Any chance he got, his hands were on them. Call him twisted, but he loved how much bigger and softer they got when you were deep into pregnancy.

When you came back out of thought, and the major distraction of your husband's lips on your body, you pushed him away gently. You followed the sort of harsh motion with a gentle peck to his lips, arm wrapping around his neck as you smiled at him in disbelief. The last chance the two of you, well more him, had been so reckless like this was so long ago you would not even be able to recall. This didn’t mean you hated it though, if anything, it satisfied that little part of your adolescence that lingered. The adolescence that was always sparked whenever you were away. Whenever your calls turned to a lustful space. The photos. The phone calls. Usually the ‘rebellious’ behaviors were to compensate for the distance. But now, Chan was hungry for you, even when you were right in front of him.

“Babe, what has gotten into you?”

Your husband buried his face into your chest, a large breath filling his nostrils, your scent deeply satisfying him before he responded. 

“I just missed you a lot, baby. And that picture you sent drove me fucking wild.”

A smirk appeared on your lips, legs hovering over your husband's waist before encasing the lower limbs around his waist, a light amount of friction created by the swift move of your hips makes him hum in pleasure. Your eyes, now sitting on top of his lap, gazed over, looking down on the poor man. There was a slight emotion of guilt there. Depriving him of getting what he wanted. You didn't really care though. If anything, pissing him off usually led to better sex after, and there was nothing in this moment that you wanted more. 

“Mmmh, as much as I want this,” you mumbled, another soft kiss in between your sentences, “I need to go home and see my daughter which I have not seen in a week.” 

“You’re right,” Chan chuckled, “I am getting a little bit carried away, aren't I?” 

Yeah he was impatient, but he understood, and it was one thing you really loved about him. He was extremely empathetic, sometimes to a fault. Able to put himself in everyone else’s shoes. So as soon as you mentioned wanting to see your daughter more, he understood. He passed you your bra and shirt, quickly helping you put them back on, not without stealing another mouth watering kiss, and hopping back into the driving and passenger seat promptly. 

The drive was once again peaceful; which lasted around 30 seconds. Maybe it was a better idea to just fuck in the back of your car, because the ache between your legs, when reflecting on the past week, was at the most intense it had been. Maybe this was your karma for withholding your body from your very eager husband. It didn’t matter now because whether you liked it or not, all of this was going to have been scheduled at a much later, uncertain time.

Chan’s hand was placed on your thigh like before, the light background and the noise somewhat distracting you, but not for long. Your husband’s grip was getting stronger and stronger, inching closer and closer to your wanting pussy with each second. A sharp gasp left your lips when his middle finger traced over the hem of your jeans, your level of arousal heightened to the point where even the breeze most likely was enough to partly satisfy yourself.

“Chan.”

“Y/n.”

“Stop it,” you whined, fingers coincidentally fidgeting with the button of your jeans, following the same direction with your zipper before the pair of pants were below your waist, your bottom undergarments now on display. You looked down, embarrassed at the mass wet patch coating your panties. Your husband's hands took a little bit of a wander, but froze almost immediately when he felt that familiar patch he had felt oh so many times. The digits were quick to act, another moan spelling from your mouth as soon as he got you in the exact spot he knew to touch. That were the perks of having a husband, because whether the time of orgasm was long or short, he knew exactly where to touch you to make that happen.

“Your body is having the opposite reaction,” he smirked, “and my eyes are strictly on the road.”

“And keep it that way.”

“Mhmm,” he ignored, fingers somehow able to push your panties to the side, raw fingertips now spreading open those pussy lips. God you felt dirty, nasty. How could you do this in your fucking car? Too horny to even wait until you were in the comfort of your bedroom. You were much too harsh on yourself. It was most definitely your husband's fault for opening that can of worms the moment he rocked up on the facetime camera without his shirt on. Therefore, your humility was minimized, there were always much worse things you could have done. Chan was easily able to find that wanting little entrance of yours, two fingers effortlessly plunging themselves inside, the unsympathetic texture of his hard working fingers gently scratching the velvet interior of your walls, hips now gently rocking back and forth on him. Your hands came to your breasts automatically, pinching, twisting, flicking the sensitive buds in any way possible that could create a replica of Chan’s mouth from previous moments. Fuck, no one else could do you like your husband, even yourself.

“Fuck Chan,” you whimpered, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Shh it’s okay,” he cooed, coaxing you through his honey textured tone, “just let it feel good, worry about other things later.”

Just as you let your head fall against the headrest, eye fluttering shut, the car came to a halt. Eyes flying open, a mound of disappointment when your visual fields were filled with your front yard. To your dismay, your husband withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a large squelching sound in the moment as he placed his hands on the gear shift, placing the toe of your into park before turning the car ignition off. The look you were giving your husband now was one of sadness, despair, making him laugh. He loved when you were dramatic.

“You’re not happy to be home?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, redoing your pants up before storming out of the car, forcing your husband to grab your suitcase as you stood impatiently at the front door, waiting for him to open it. It would be impossible to wipe the puffed up look of content on his face, knowing that he got right under your skin. Games were fun to play, but you simply knew that if he didn’t give you what you wanted soon, the house would fall into chaos. It was one thing to wind you up, but this time it was too far to push through, then stop just when things were getting good.

A fake smile plastered on your face, the refreshing thought of seeing your daughter coming back into your mind as you walked through your abode. It faded however, unable to see or hear anything that resembled your little baby. It wasn’t until you walked down your long hallway that led to your kitchen that you saw the note on your marble bench. It read the following:

Hi Darling, hope you had a safe flight!

I have taken my beautiful granddaughter to the park for a playdate with a couple of her friends and the other available parents. 

We are leaving at around midday, and won’t be back for a few couple hours. Apologies you will have to wait a little longer, but I couldn’t say no to her beating eyes when she asked me.

I'll see you when I’m looking at you.

Dad

“Chan!”

Your timbre was loud, somewhat frightening your husband as he rolled your luggage across the floor, meeting you in your shared kitchen. He was kind of worried. Chan knew that your dad was taking care of her while he went to pick you up, but he never said anything about taking her out. He stood next to you, trying to analyze your expressions before you spoke. You missed your daughter a lot, there was nothing false about that statement. Nonetheless, when the smug look came to your face at the thought of what having an empty house implied, you couldn't help yourself. 

“Did you know that my dad took her to the park?”

Oh fuck. Chan thought he was in trouble; big big trouble. 

You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress your smile at how hopeless he looked. Being the medical professional you were, it was easy to read your husband like a book. And after his actions, which were already on the verge of crossing the threshold of what you would put up with, he was in his every right mind to react this way. Walking on eggshells was the right way to go. From his friskiness on the phone, to sending an almost naked picture to you in public, to publicly groping and prodding at your highly aroused body in the discomfort of your car, to now delaying your reunion with his daughter; my my my did he dig himself a massive grave that he would not be able to dig himself out of this one. 

“No,” he answered, hesitance leaking from his tone, “she must have asked him after I left.”

“Right,” you paddled, handing the note your dad had left to your husband. A sigh of relief in the form of his chest falling from the fat breath he sucked in before dissipating from his chest. Taking a step close, your husband ignored, focusing all his efforts on the written material until he felt the texture of what was your fingertips find a place on his torso, index fingers ‘accidentally’ finding a way underneath the hem of the thin material that made up his shirt. The note was removed from your husband’s face in the form of a toss with his own hand, eyes piercing into yours the more and more the skin of his torso was being exposed to the light. Your palms then became a part of the conversation, gently pressing against your husband's groin as you could feel his length awake from a light slumber.

“Why am I sensing that you’re not mad now?”

“Me,” You gasped, feigning ignorance as you finally pulled the flimsy material over your husband’s head, “I was never mad?”

“You weren’t?”

“No Mr. Bang,” you giggled, wrapping your hands around your husband’s neck once more, “Mad that you have been teasing me for almost 24 hours straight?”

Chan didn’t answer, instead sweeping your legs off the floor and into your arms, carrying your bridal style back down the said hallway, bedroom door conveniently already open as he laid you down on your back. A hum of happiness fell from your lips at the familiar feeling of your own bed sheets encompassing your back. You were brought out of those thoughts quickly however, your husband left you little to revel in bed texture, removing his sweats immediately before lifting you by the armpits again, leaving you to stand and him sitting on the edge of your shared mattress. The invitation of your barely dressed husband with a pressing erection straining his boxers was a very enticing seat. One that you took without a second thought as his hands were straight for your throat, a gentle squeeze as your lips connected first, legs cloaking his waist once more, the both of your tongues fighting for dominance over each other. Chan’s mouth vibrated as he relaxed into the sensual nature of the kiss, hands drifting away from your upper body and right to the outside of your thighs, a gentle tingle of fingertips dancing across your heated skin as you pulled away from a brief moment, wanting to match at least half of his body in the lack of clothing. Your husband helped as he withdrew his hands from your body for a brief moment, deciding to, rather than pull your nice shirt over your head like a normal person, he pulled the seams apart, splitting the shirt into two before using one hand only to unclasp your bra this time. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t impressed by it everytime.

“I liked that shirt,” you pouted, “did you have to rip it?” “I’m sorry y/n,” he chuckled, hands snaking up your sides another time, “I just want you so badly.”

There was no time to react as your husband gripped your hips, spinning you around and pinning you into the mattress. His second attack followed impeccably, hands fumbling on your jeans before getting them undone, panties groped in unison as they hit the side wall. That was an irrelevant detail, because Chan was lying on his front, abs rubbing against your core as he brought his hands back to your tits; his most favorite thing in the world. The man could not keep his hands still, mouth slobbering all over the sensitive skin as he began his second attack of the day on your nipples. 

“Never gets old,” you giggle, a gentle moan following after at the contrast of your flimsy mounds and rock hard nubs. Chan’s hands felt like no other, and when he had them on you, it was the time when you felt like the luckiest woman in the world. Your husband’s chuckles followed closely to yours. Seeing his wife happy was one thing, but knowing that he could make you feel this good aroused him to another level. His admiration deepend, yes, but it was somewhat of an ego boost for him. Knowing that he was that good with his fingers. 

Your husband’s lips, like his hands, began to wander, a strip of wet kisses trailing down the center of your stomach, causing him to crawl back further and further until his lips were just above your core. Chan brought his fingers right back to where he had them in the car, easily able to slip in two fingers without warning, a deep groan gritting his teeth at the way your back arched for him monumentally. The sight was one that he had been craving, one that you craved yourself. It did not matter how far apart you were from your husband, his appetite for you would never change. If he wanted to be close, he wanted to be close. If he wanted to be far, well that was just simply not plausible. As much as he wanted to pleasure you, make you feel good, like the diligent role of a husband should be, it was the closeness that motivated him every time. Chan longed for these moments, especially since the introduction of your daughter restricted the ability to do so. At any possible moment, Chan would demand to do whatever he could to profess his love, and it was always done with his mouth; his tongue to be more specific. 

In this scenario, rather than speaking with tongue, it was sticking out of your husband’s lips, flattening as he dived in head first without hesitation, your hands automatically rummaging through the thick mound of curls that supported the top of his head. His tongue was heaven, spreading your pussy lips farther and farther apart and he used that ferocious organ to fiercely suck on your wanting nub. A monstrous moan escaped your lips at the contact, a gratifying humm coming from his throat at the way you tugged on his locks. Your eyes were barely open, unable to prevent yourself letting your eyelids dance back and forth from open to shut, mesmerized at the current view you had when hunching your neck to see. Chan could see the way you were desperate to view his fulfilling prophecy that was going down on his wife, making sure to lay his chest flat on your bed, ejecting his fingers from your cunt and hooking each forearm around each leg, compressing them into the mattress, giving you the perfect perspective of the combination that was his lips and tongue simultaneously pleasuring your aching core. If this was going to be the result after pining for each other for around 12 hours only, you would never think about it twice. 

“I love being married,” you whined, another humorous hum escaping your husband’s lips, “tongue feels so good.”

“Mmmh,” he mumbled, half of his face muffled in your pussy, “you taste so good.”

“What was that?”

He took away his tongue for a brief moment, looking you deep in the eye before repeating his statement.

“You taste so good.”

He didn’t want to take much time away from making you, his wife, feel good, let alone waste his breath on 3 words. His tongue snaked across your inner thigh, the organ licking a gentle strip up each leg before descending back onto your gushing pussy. The smile on your face at his works was impossible to wipe off, your moans through the pearly whites getting louder and louder at the same time with your core, the accumulation of your slick and Chan’s oral fluids contributing to the squelching sound that was bringing you closer and closer to peak arousal. His lust was simply one of trance and dedication. It genuinely could not be explained enough how much he loved seeing you like this, knowing that he was the one that was doing so. Your lips contorted, unable to keep the smile as your bite down on the skin below your bottom lip, harsh enough to leave a line of marks before you were sitting up, hands leaving his hair and dominating his face, palms spread across either side before pressing a kiss to his lips. Your nose crinkled, easily identifying the taste of you on his tongue before giving him one last look, eyes completely open as you crawled backwards on your elbows, left index fingers curling in a come hither motion. The invitation was simply too divine to resist. Your husband turned into a predator, jumping on top of you like he had just caught his prey. His moves were delicate, making sure to not crush you underneath him. His lips were itching to be on yours again, and the feelings were returned, tongue automatically parting his lips and dipping inside his wanting mouth as his hands left your figure for a brief moment, slipping the thin material down his legs and over his feet, fingertips, like magnets to his wife’s skin, straight back onto you. Your own hands were now back on your husband's body, fingernails digging into the large mound of muscles that was his upper back as his fully erect length pressed against your heat. A moan slipped out of your mouth and straight into his, causing him to pull away.

“Fuck you really missed me, didn’t you?”

His smirk was fucking priceless. So annoying, but it would just be a flat out lie if you said you were not attracted to it in the slightest. Cocky did not look good on most people, but it 100% suited your husband. Your nails buried themselves deeper into his flesh at his statement, a poor attempt at humbling him in the slightest as another moan fell from your lips as he began slightly rocking back and forth, the tip of his pre-cum soaked tip hitting your extremely sensitive nub. You went to open your mouth, a failing endeavor of speaking a sentence when the only thing coming out being sounds of pleasure.

“Don’t tease me Mr. Bang,” you mumbled in between each groan, bucking your hips to create a larger friction between your two bodies. Chan was getting impatient himself, but god, did he love to tease you. Your husband had no trouble making you orgasm over and over, he just had displeasure in making you cum so quickly. Your body was sensitive solely to him, even after all these years, it didn’t take much to get you there. Therefore, teasing you made the process so much more enjoyable. Watching you squirm was something that he really enjoyed. 

“Hmm Mrs. Bang,” he hummed, lifting his hips off of yours, one hand now wrapped around the base of him, “you’re so cute when you’re all hot and bothered.”

Your eyes formed into a squint, annoyed at how easily he was pinning you down, “stop playing games and fuck me. Preferably today before they get home.”

“Oh fuck,” Chan chuckled, prodding at your pussy hole with his length, “you’re right, let me get to business.”

It was funny when previously mentioned that Chan left to tease and see you squirm, because once his length was comforted by the strength of your tight walls, your husband was a mess. He couldn't help it. Your pussy, after being with you for so many years, molded exactly to the shape and maneuvers that Chan needed. He tried to maintain a slow pace, allowing for your cunt to stretch perfectly around him, wanting you to feel every inch of him; but it simply was too irresistible to resist. Chan wrapped his hands around your ankles, lifting your limbs in the air and stretching them as far as they could go before kneeling on his knees as he began to flat out pound your busy. His pace was not as fast no, by the velocity of the thrusts was truly toe curling. Your jaw dropped to the floor if it could, the bedhead surely denting the walls at the arms as each time his hope made contact with your contact, a large noise resembling a slap occurred. Your husband was usually not as rough, but it’s not that you’re complaining at all. It was rare that he would just throw you around like this, usually if he was frustrated or that you had been away. So really, you should have seen this coming. Maybe it was what provoked you to reply to his lustful text in such a similar manner; whatever you have been doing it was right seeing as he was making your pussy cry with arousal. 

Chan’s teeth sunk into your left calf, a string of large huffs and puffs escaping from his chest as he put all his mighty effort into each thrust, your husband breathing heavy at the combination of his force and pleasure he got from fucking you like that. His eyes ogled however, at how easily your tits bounced back and forth.

“Fuck,” you shouted, “s-so rough.”

“You like that?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, keeping your legs in the air as your pulled him by the neck, foreheads accidentally smashing foreheads together with a significant force, “you’re fucking me like you want to put another kid in me.”

“Maybe I do,” he grunted, pressing a kiss to your lips in between, “maybe I should put another kid in you.”

God the way he talks, especially like that, turns you on so much. Your hands now travel back to the familiar spot of his back, pulling his chest against yours as he picked up his pace, thrusts much smoother with rhythm as your eyes fluttered shut, head hitting the back of the pillow ad your husband relentlessly fucked your pussy. A deep breath blew from your lips, an insufficient try to maintain your composure as your husband refused to set a forgiving speed.

“Fuck your pussy,” he growled, unable to finish his sentence.

“Yeah baby?”

“Mine,” he huffed, his own eyes fluttering shut as he pinned your upper limbs next to your head, head dipping down back to your breasts, a ferociously lick on your left nipple before he continued, “Fuck I’ll fuck another fucking child into that fucking pussy if you want me to.” 

Chan became a menace when he reached his peak horniness, and during this timeline, that was right now. Anyone who met or knew Chan, as a well-respected friend, colleague, or even a stranger, knew that was one of the most polite people that you could possibly have the pleasure of meeting. Not one to swear, always use his manners and respect other people’s time and values. However, it was only you who got to see the truly feral side of him, like this, cursing his head off. It was only at this point did he forget that facade of a well-mannered gentleman. Chan was certainly not polite or gentlemen like when he fucked you, and it was a guilty pleasure of yours. It always aroused you to hear him say ‘fuck’, mumble a ‘motherfucker’ or ‘shit’ under his breath, even just in normal dialgoue. So when he said it during sex, it truly was one of the hottest fucking things your had ever seen. 

“Do it,” you mumbled, unable to use your full voice, “put a kid in me.”

“Really?”

His head snapped up immediately, lips moving back to your own, pecking you one more time, but with his eyebrows raised in surprise, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes,” you smiled, fingertips spreading across your husband’s cheeks, “you have my permission.”

“Oh fuck,” he grumbled, “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

Chan’s hands snuggled under your back, scooping you and placing you up right on him, cock still inside of you as he sat up himself, keeping you close to his torso as he scooched the end of the bed. He let out a groan as he stood up, hands trailing to your hips as began to bounce you. A new level of sound escaped your lips at the new angle he was hitting inside of your pussy. It was smart to keep your arms enclosed around his neck, head buried into his chest as he still managed to keep the same pace. You really didn’t know how much more of this you could handle; the pressure in your body was building. The pit of your stomach was making its way to your final high, and your muscles were tightening in conjunction. The room’s scent was full of sweat, but also passion. Sweet sweet passion and sweet sweet love filled the four nostrils in the room, bringing you even closer to the edge. 

“Chan?”

“Y/n, you okay baby?”

“I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined, “I'm gonna cum so hard.”

“Oh me fucking too baby,” he fritted through his jaw breaking teeth clench, “I’m about to blow so fucking hard.”

“Yeah?”

“All in this pussy,” he whined, placing you back down on the bed, “my pussy.”

“Mhm, all yours.”

Your husband kept your back arching off the edge of the bed, making sure that when let go of himself, that nothing but even a drop would drip out of your hole. His hips became erratic; you could tell that your husband would not last much longer. Not that you were far off either, but you know that the release of his seed would tip you over the edge. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, hard, “Y/n I’m so sorry I’m gonna cum first.”

“It’s ok,” you whined, “I need your seed inside of me so fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you clenched, eyes dark with lust as he kept his gaze on you, “put a fucking kid in me.”

“I fucking love my fucking wife so much,” he spat, jaw falling agape as his load exploded, the ropes of your husband’s orgasm roping over and over inside of you, “I fucking love you so much.”

“Fuck Chan,” you screamed, your own orgasm washing over and sending you into a haze, “it feels so good inside of me.”

Your whine was so attractive to Chan that he leant down to kiss you one more time, before withdrawing his aching cock, falling to your side in a heavy breath. He was quick to get back into action, however, falling off the bed and grabbing your ankles again, lifting them off the floor and onto the bed, ensuring that not a lick of his load would fall out. A fat giggle escaped from your lips when you watched him do so.

“Fuck you were serious about that kid hey?”

He was already gone, annoyingly leaving you by himself. He was quick to come back however, returning with a glass of water and a banana from the kitchen bench, handing over to you without a second thought. Your lips turned into a smile automatically, practically chugging the water down to quench your thirst before peeling the banana open. Your husband took his spot next to you, lying on his side as he watched you with admiration. All of a sudden you felt self-conscious, hesitating before putting your lips anywhere near the fruit.

“I’m starting to think you got this fruit for a particular reason.”

“No,” he chuckled, “just eat it.”

You looked away from him as your lips ‘accidentally’ slipped down the banana, much past where necessary to take a bite. You could see your husband's jaw clenching out of the corner of your eye as your motion.

“What,” you mumbled, mouth full of food, “you were asking for it.”

“Fuck your lucky that your daughter is going to be home soon.”

「𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕'𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗」 · course iii

❝𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎.❞

WC: 10k (42 min. avg. reading time)

⛔ — Not suitable for readers who might get triggered by rough play and/or themes of sexual deviance. The author chooses not to issue tags for every act to preserve tension and some element of surprise. By clicking "Keep Reading", you accept to proceed at your own risk.

⚠ — Open discussions of sexual deviance, extreme possessiveness as a kink (in play context; not as a personality trait), heavy breeding kink, rimming, verbal mentions of somnophilia and anal play (see masterlist for more).

★ There is no taglist. Please turn on notifications if you wish to be updated.

※ This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

That evening wasn’t the first time Chris caught himself randomly thinking about you.

Getting on someone’s nerves, teasing them to no end just to watch their reactions shouldn’t have been this much fun, but it just was. You were just so interesting. Since day one. You became even more interesting when he started raiding your dreams. He had a magnifying glass to look right into your deepest desires now, study them for not-so-pure motives, and they had become his favorite movies to watch. You seemed to find him just as fascinating. He seemed to turn you on just as much, to the extent that you would concoct private shows for him under the transparent veil of obliviousness. You could have just asked him to come watch you, but he understood where you were coming from. Sometimes it felt much better when it felt wrong, didn’t it? The things that weren’t meant to be confessed out loud were always much more delicious. Like any forbidden fruit was.

“Is this bagel to your liking?”

He turned to his right in the backseat of the lavish Bentley that was supposed to take you out of town to The Culinary Institute and watched you settle in. You were unknowingly twinning with Chris with your matching black blazer and jeans attire, but while he was clad in his silver chains around his neck and wrist, you had golden details to contrast him like the buttons of your jacket and the delicate knuckle rings you had on.

“Perfectly golden Asiago,” he observed after checking you out from head to toe, “How’d you know it’s my favorite?”

“It is?”

“No, but I wouldn’t mind demolishing one all of a sudden,” he nonchalantly commented and reached for the perfectly cooled bottle sitting in the bucket in front of him, “Champagne?”

“Stop being nice, Chef, it’s weird,” you contorted your face while pushing your weekender bag under the seat in front of you.

“Don’t be formal with me,” he handed you a sweating flute and proceeded to pour a handsome amount of the bubbly drink for himself, “This is not dinner service. We’re just going to have a good time.”

You were so used to Chris’ threatening tone whenever he was not yelling that the change in his demeanor felt like whiplash, not to mention the subtly flirtatious undertones of his request. You hadn’t even taken one sip from the champagne yet something warm was already spreading all over your face and… well… your other parts.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Of course,” he shrugged, not getting why you were this surprised, “I’m your commanding officer only at work. We’re just two colleagues outside.”

You couldn’t help your smile. The validation meant everything to you as a professional.

As an individual, however…

“No takebacks, Christopher,” you slurped on your glass obnoxiously. He smirked in return and got back to the notes he had in his hands.

“Got any toys on you today?” he asked without looking at you, his voice so aloof one would think he was asking you about the weather. You avoided choking on your drink at the last second.

“Sure, I brought you a stroker,”  you deadpanned, “You want it now or later?”

“Don’t make me pat you down,” he faced you again, firm like a teacher asking the resident troublemaker of the class to behave on a school trip, “I can’t have you cumming on the podium. This is a serious event.”

“No, I don’t have any toys on me and I won’t be cumming on the podium. You have my word. Happy?”

“We’ll see about that,” he stared you down, barely able to stop himself from smiling.

After a ninety-minute drive, you arrived at your destination. The second Chris stepped foot into the building, he was of course welcomed like the celebrity he was. You felt privileged to be affiliated with him as it was, let alone being invited to an event like this, and while his success had nothing to do with you, you were still beaming with pride watching him get showered with love and respect.

“Chef Bang, what an honor!” the moderator of the event exclaimed with a shriek-like greeting.

“The honor is mine,” Chris firmly shook the woman’s hand with a charming smile and introduced you, “This is the associate I’ve told you about. You might as well change the name of the Q&A to Chef Corneille Dish Session.”

After shaking your hand, she laughed a bit too loudly while touching his arm and led the way inside the auditorium.

“Yes offense, it wasn’t that funny,” you muttered in a voice only Chris can hear, “She wants you to fuck her. Hard.”

“The only way I know how,” he responded with his warm smile reserved for strangers as if you were talking about some benign topic, “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Maybe it’s my only business, fucking tease,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Let’s go inside.”

All in all, the event was a success. Chris was nothing but endlessly charismatic throughout, making perfect use of his quick wit while engaging in banter with the audience, so it was understandable why the entire room had the fattest crush on him. To you, however, it was a little weird to see him like this. These wholesome shenanigans were most definitely a front, not that his true colors were completely offputting, but you couldn’t comprehend why he felt like he couldn’t show more of his actual self to people. It wasn’t like he was completely hiding it—half the reason Wolfgang had a full house day after day was to watch the open kitchen action and his relentless temper tantrums. Was he just portraying himself as a showbiz maniac who was otherwise utterly pleasant?

Or was there something else entirely that ran deeper?

“This was lovely, Chef. We would love to invite you for dinner tonight,” the woman whose name you learned to be Lily alluringly smiled at him, which made you question whether this was a group dinner invitation or if she was legitimately asking him out on a date.

“I appreciate it very much, but as you can imagine, we’re a little travel-worn,” he politely declined, “Raincheck for the next time we’re in town, though!”

Chris basically rushed you out of that room towards the car before anybody had any chance to insist and instructed the driver to go back to the hotel.

“Why’d you say no?”

“I’m not gonna waste my time with what they consider good food when we’re staying at a fucking Conrad,” he explained straightforwardly, “You didn’t think I picked that hotel because the rooms are comfortable, did you?”

“You could have totally gotten laid tonight. Just saying.”

“The night is still young,” he spread his legs as wide as he could to make himself comfortable and turned to you, “Who’s to say I won’t?”

You tried your best to be subtle while staring at his crotch, but whether you were successful or not was a bit questionable.

Chris had asked for a table in the semi-private penthouse dining room in order to peacefully eat away from the prying eyes since he was in no mood to be cordial with the masses. You were in the middle of admiring the tastefully decorated spacious dining room as well as the fantastic view it offered right in front of the table when the head chef of the hotel walked in to greet Chris personally. 

“Chef Marshall Martin,” the good-looking man roughly around the same age as Chris politely kissed your hand and introduced himself, “Huge pleasure to have you here. Chris and I go way back.”

“Please, the pleasure is all mine,” you reciprocated his warm smile as he guided you to your seats.

“Didn’t know you were capable of taking someone on a date,” Marshall teased Chris and gestured to a waiter to attend to you, “Feel free to go off the menu. What can I get you?”

You stole a glance from Chris, waiting for him to correct the misinformation that this was a date, but he didn’t bother. He knowingly smiled instead as his eyes scanned all the dining options available and then he put down the leather-bound menu that was the size of a yearbook for a small school.

“Do you mind if I order for both of us?”

“Not at all.”

“Oysters with macerated lemon as appetizers. As for the entrée, roasted meat with wine reduction and spiced honey sauce with maca salad on the side. We’ll see about the rest.”

He had uttered all his orders in a single breath as if he were reciting a poem he had memorized. You, on the other hand, were questioning whether his choices were at all deliberate or not. Oysters, capsaicin, honey, maca… You weren’t dumb. You knew what these foods allegedly were. 

Fucking aphrodisiacs.

“He’s really into you, huh? I hope you have protection on you, miss,” the chef shot you a mischievous smile, then addressed Chris directly, “Right away, friend.”

You took the liberty of choosing the wine to pair with your food and waited until your conversation with the sommelier was over to say something, needlessly going over the recommendations over and over again just to have Chris seethe in his chair.

“Really into me,” you echoed the chef’s words back to Chris with a straight face when you were finally alone, “Yet he hasn’t even asked me if I have a boyfriend or not.”

His face instantly fell at your insinuation. No, he hadn’t asked that, but… Wasn’t it a given that you were single considering—?

“Y-you do?”

You dragged on the suspense examining every single detail on his face. How his eyes very slightly widened, how he gulped, how his posture got tense all of a sudden, and you had the time of your fucking life doing that.

“No, I don’t,” you eventually answered, completely cracking your façade with an annoying grin. 

You got him so good that his relief couldn’t have been more apparent. You downright burst into heartfelt laughter as he rolled his eyes and reached for the glass of water in front of him.

“Why the fuck would you say that then, jesus fucking…” he downed the cold liquid in one go to calm down.

The venue, the view, the food, the conversation, everything was just so pleasant. By the end of the wine bottle, you were both properly buzzed and filterless, and the night only promised to get more candid with the two Brandy Alexanders that arrived at the table to serve as your digestifs.

“Okay, I gotta come clean about something,” you reached for your purse and fished for something in it, “I didn’t have it in me, but I did lie to you.”

When you showed him the slightly curved pastel purple bullet vibrator you had with you, Chris started laughing his ass off.

“You have a fucking problem, you know?”

“Whatevs, dude. I’m not gonna apologize for enjoying a sex-positive lifestyle.”

“Is that fancy talk for being super horny?” he raised his brows, “Why are you this worked up all the time?”

“It’s called having a high sex drive.”

He looked infinitely entertained, but when his laughter receded into the darkness, his expression got a tinge more serious. He looked like he was about to say something but was in desperate pursuit of the right things to say.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” you sipped on the creamy drink. Chris took a brief pause and finally spilled the beans.

“What you said to Minho the other day,” he started scratching his napkin without looking at you, “How come you can talk about these things so openly?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you shrugged, “Just because you’re into some uncommon stuff doesn’t mean there’s something fundamentally wrong with you.” 

“You’re not scared people would judge you for it?”

“They can if they want. At the end of the day, I’m the one who gets to have fulfilling sex while they are stuck with their orgasmless lives,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your legs under the table, “Don’t you have anything you enjoy a little left of the center that makes your toes curl really hard?”

Man, did he. 

Ironically enough, this was the first time anyone had openly asked him such a question—besides the people who had to know, that is. Otherwise, how was he going to get his money’s worth? Even talking to an experienced professional felt like he was losing five years of his life every single time. Sure, professional. He knew it. He just fucking knew that they thought he was a freak and wondered when he would stop visiting.

“Maybe,” he responded, eyes intently on his glass.

“Such as?”

He averted his eyes again. He wasn’t talking, but his silence told you everything you needed to know. That was why he had asked you that very question in the first place, wasn’t it? He really thought you would judge him for something like this.

Just what kind of people was Chris surrounded with to feel this way?

“Oh, come on. It’s not fair you know something that personal about me when I don’t know anything in return,” you nudged him a little.

“Then you shouldn’t have blurted it out.”

“What do you want as a guarantee?” you put your bargaining chip on the table to encourage him to open up to you, “I feel like simply giving you my word is not going to cut it.”

“No, it’s not,” Chris finally looked you in the eyes again, “Tell me something you wouldn’t tell anyone else that easily. Something that you would only tell someone you trust.”

Only someone you trust. 

You might have been comfortable in your own skin, but that obviously didn’t mean you would randomly share intimate details about yourself with strangers out of context. You had your fair share of skeletons locked in some closet somewhere, and the only reason you felt like you could joke about that with Minho that one time was… well, because it was Minho—a firm believer of ‘To each his own’ that gave no fucks, so you didn’t make much of it. It was simple banter. Then you suddenly remembered what Chris said to you in his office. 

Trust is not given. It’s fucking earned.

No wonder he was the most private person you knew. He was actually asking you to give him a reason so that he could begin to trust you.

“Oh, boy,” you jokingly hissed, “This is where you’ll think I’m super weird, isn’t it?”

“I would never do such a thing.” 

You knew he meant it. His voice came out firm, but not in its usual assertive tone. More like he was confronting you. Telling you that it was a lie.

It tugged at your heartstrings for some reason.

“Fine,” you heaved a very deep sigh, “I love possessiveness in bed. As a kink, not as a personality trait. Let’s get that super clear.”

“Possessiveness?” Chris contorted his face in mild confusion, “That’s what you think is outrageous?”

“It is because as much as it’s about belongingness, I like the extreme version of it during play.”

“Extreme as in?”

“The idea of having someone I’m into maniacally crazy about me does things to me. That’s as far as devotion can get.”

Oh. 

You were one of those, huh? A claim enthusiast who liked pushing the boundaries of worship to the next level. Simply telling you how beautiful you were wouldn’t do it for you, would it? You needed something more. Much more. A twisted proof of loyalty no matter how make-believe it was.

His pulse started escalating unbeknownst to him as if he was in the middle of watching a very tense scene of some suspense movie.

“So what is it? Is there an act associated with it, or…?”

“It’s the talk actually. Say we’re in the middle of sex and all of a sudden you go batshit crazy about how some guy looked at me earlier that day, throw pretend threats around, and fuck me harder because, and I quote, I’m yours only,” you grabbed your glass and looked right into his eyes, “I live for that shit.”

Yours only. 

So it was true—you did have a thing for claiming. Chris could actually feel something shifting in him, clicking together like a perfect match with his own longings, and it was getting much harder to restrain himself.

“Is that limited to roleplaying only, or do you have a thing for dirty talk in general?”

“Whatever feels natural. I’m agnostic about scripted sex, but I do believe in the potency of heartfelt cursing,” you put down your glass and clasped your hands on the table, “And if my partner starts moaning my name, I’ll probably cream myself five minutes in. Sound is a powerful thing.”

“So you like it when your partner is vocal.”

“You don’t? How else would you know there is mutual pleasure?” you made a fair point, “Would you rather I wait for my needs to dawn on you, or straight up tell you to fuck me as hard as you can when you’re choking me?”

His face changed drastically. You were doing it again, saying all these things, not having the slightest clue about how much it was affecting him. How much you were driving him crazy. How feral he was going just with your words alone. Or maybe you knew it perfectly and you were doing it on fucking purpose.

You flashed a satisfied smile when he gulped that thickly and got up to head to the restroom.

“Exactly,” you stroked under his chin with two of your fingers before you walked away and whispered into his ear, “Christopher.”

His eyes automatically closed when you touched him, and he felt his cock twitch hard as he let out a loud exhale.

God, I need to fuck you.

Chris never thought he’d see the day he would witness a reflection of himself in a different shade. Sure, he found you gorgeous, but it wasn’t simply a matter of looks. You were just so unapologetically yourself that he couldn’t help getting more and more attracted to you with every exchange. There was no way he could prove it, but you felt like a long-lost piece of him, and he just knew it in his bones that sex with you would be atom rearranging.

“Alright, where were we?” you pulled him back to earth when you returned to the table.

“You were giving me a handy tutorial on how to fuck you just right.”

Jesus fucking—

That was nothing short of impulsively divulging your intrusive thoughts like some subcategory of Tourette’s. He didn’t mean to say that out loud at all. Chris was still so much under the influence of his internal monologue about you that he blurted out without thinking, and even he knew how crass that came across. He was actually getting ready to correct himself before you beat him to breaking the silence and let out a heartfelt laughter.

“Yeah, about that, why am I the only one telling you about these things?” you furrowed your brows, “Long story short, just communicate with your partner and you’re golden.”

“Yeah, nah,” Chris reached for some water in response.

“Why not?”

“I’m not about to confess to someone that I enjoy the idea of defiling the fuck out of them when I’ll never see them again, okay? I need some aspects of my life to remain private.” 

“Defiling the fuck out of them, huh? Interesting,” you started drawing circles on the rim of your glass and tilted your head, “And what does that defiling entail exactly?”

The way you were looking at him, your posture, your voice… You were just so seductive that it was messing with his head, and he could feel how he was getting more defenseless by the second. He took a deep breath before answering and tried to pass it as an aloof comment.

“For example, I love it when my partner wears makeup.”

“How is that defiling them?”

“So that I can ruin it for myself.”

You throbbed so hard between your legs. Your expression must have visibly changed, too, since Chris seemed to have found a little more courage to elaborate.

“Your lipstick all over my cock. Your mascara running because of how much I’m making you sweat. That’s the dream,” he sipped on his drink while eating you alive with his eyes, “Am I wrong to assume you also like being watched in secret?”

“I like it when a partner watches me, not some random stranger. There’s a difference.”

“I wasn’t your partner, though.”

A sinister smile appeared on his lips, and you reciprocated it. Yes, he wasn’t a partner—you didn’t have sex on a technicality, but he wasn’t a random stranger, either. He was this magnificent thing that was haunting your dreams, and it was becoming impossible to resist his magnetism, not that you wanted to in the first place.

“Do you want to be?”

Chris just licked his lips in response while checking you out from head to toe. His mind was crawling with everything he wanted to do to you and good fucking god just why did you have to look like that?

“I enjoyed watching you,” he finally answered, “Maybe a bit too much.”

“Did you like what you saw?”

“Who doesn’t like custom porn? You look incredible when you cum,” his eyes slowly darted to your chest, “But you turn into a fucking goddess when you say my name.”

“Duly noted, Christopher,” you emphatically replied and finished your drink, “Enough about me. Time to spill.”

“Spill what?”

“What do your demons do when no one’s looking?”

Well, it was fair trade. You had answered all his questions quite satisfactorily thus far, so he could answer a couple for you in return.

“They tempt me to speed in the wrong lane.”

“Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

“Okay, I guess,” he responded, seemingly indifferent, “Not everyone has the willingness to drive that fast, though.”

Maybe he had earned his trust issues, you wouldn’t know, but Chris was still not giving you straightforward answers. You wondered what it would take for him to confide in you.

“One of my hobbies is trying to get out of speeding tickets, just FYI.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it with me,” he warned, “I don’t stop when the motion sickness hits.”

“Do I look like a carpool rider to you?”

“No, but I’m not sure if you’ve driven a Porsche before. That ain’t the same thing as a Prius, you know.”

“No one’s ever offered to take me on a ride in a Porsche, but I did ride an eighteen-wheeler all by myself once. Does this answer your question?”

The more you talked, the more he was getting turned on—to such an extent that he was on the brink of risking it all. His breath hitched in his throat when he felt your foot on his, slowly sliding up his leg. 

You fucking know I can’t dick you down right here right now so you’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you? You’re a fucking demon.

“You don’t understand,” he closed his eyes to practice self-restraint, “I will want to hurt you every once in a while.”

“Context is everything,” you reached for his glass and stole a sip, “Is it to cause me actual discomfort or is there an underlying pleasure-related reason?”

“Like, I have a thing for biting.”

“What about it gets you going so much?”

“I don’t know. It’s like a temporary tattoo,” he explained further, “I like leaving traces on someone’s body.”

“So it’s not that you want to hurt me, but you want to mark me,” you corrected him to reassure him, “It’s not as scandalous as you think.”

You suddenly remembered your dreams. Not that it was any reflection of reality, but if there was an opportunity to fact-check, it was this.

“Neither is being into discipline, by the way.”

Chris heard that one word, and his lips involuntarily parted. Why? Why would you say that? Why would you even fucking mention that when it was his goddamn kryptonite?!

“So you want to pull my hair or spank me when I allegedly don’t listen to you. You can,” you casually informed him, “Choking is also not off the table in case you were wondering.”

He almost malfunctioned. He quite literally couldn’t have been any more seduced than this, and it was driving him crazy how nonchalant you were being.

“How do you even know you can trust me?” he finally asked the question he had been holding on to.

“I don’t,” you replied with no hesitation, “I’m just choosing to.”

“That’s one hell of a risk to take, don’t you reckon?”

“Where’s the fun if you’re not willing to take risks every once in a while?” you leaned back into your chair, “And if you’re a maniac, I’ll just press charges and sue your ass if I survive your murder attempt.”

He liked your dark humor. He loved it actually. You saw the first genuine smile he flashed ever since you met him, and it made your heart flutter.

“Anything for dessert, sir?”

Chris looked at you to give the waiter your order if you had any, and the opportunity had basically fallen in your lap.

“Do you have Boston Cream Pie on your menu by any chance?”

“Unfortunately no, miss, but we can have it prepared right away.”

“Pity. That’s my absolute favorite,” you responded looking directly at Chris, then warmly smiled at your waiter, “Let’s not burden the chef. Thank you very much.”

“Well, I will burden the chef,” Chris intervened, “We would like two of his famous figs to go, please. Slow baked with saffron glaze.”

“Right away, sir.”

The man left after refreshing your water glasses. All of a sudden, the bubble encapsulating your table started pulsating with faint buzzes of electricity. Chris would not look away from you as though trying to decode a century-long mystery in your eyes, and his smile was anything but tame.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice what you’ve been up to with your eccentric food choices all night,” you finally called him out.

“What am I up to?”

“You’re trying to get into my pants.”

“So perceptive,” he quipped, “I think it’s safe to say I’ll emerge victorious, though.”

“Arrogant much?”

“Are you denying how much you want to jump me right now?” 

You didn’t answer, but you couldn’t help the smile smeared on your lips, either. Chris, on the other hand, was thinking about how beautiful you looked every time you smiled at him like that.

“You really like Boston Cream Pie that much?”

You took a graceful sip from your glass, making sure to leave a moist print on the rim, then answered him with a straight face.

“I don’t eat anything else,” you licked the droplets off your lips, “That’s the staple food of a breeding enthusiast.”

“A breeding enthusiast, huh?” he feigned surprise, “What a coincidence that I never carry condoms on me.”

“You’re not scared we might have an accident?”

“Breeding enthusiasts are all talk no play. If I look into your purse, I bet my ass I’ll find your birth control pills.”

You burst out laughing, and it was so contagious that he joined in. His dimples… Oh, god, his dimples needed to come with a heart attack warning.

“Touché.”

“The presidential suite has one hell of a kitchen here,” he provided an unsolicited fact, “We can make the pie you’re craving so bad if you like.”

“Aren’t you the gentleman for offering?”

He reached into his blazer and flashed a keycard between two of his fingers. 

“Spend the night with me.”

You already knew where this was going, but it still started a riot in the pit of your stomach when he said it with so much intention. If you so much as slipped for one second, you were actually going to jump him right at that table.

“So you’re not asking, but you’re telling me to,” you quipped with an annoying grin.

“Yet you’re still not saying no.”

How could you? How could anyone for that matter? Who the fuck possessed the unmatched willpower and nerves of steel to say no to this glorious creature?

“I’d love to,” you finally gave him the answer he had been waiting for.

This was strictly sex in a neutral zone. In neither’s room. You covered your bases as you were headed to what was going to be a messy crime scene soon enough.

“What are your hard no’s?” Chris asked in the elevator, “Anywhere you don’t like being touched?”

“Just go with the flow, but the only bodily fluids I’m willing to exchange are cum, saliva, sweat, and occasional tears. You can do the math for the rest.” 

“You okay with me being rough with you?”

“It’s fine. If I’m ever uncomfortable, I’ll tap you on the shoulder three times to pace it down,” you informed him as you walked out, “Your dealbreakers?”

“Anything goes as long as you know whatever we do is just play. I won’t literally mean anything I say,” he fished for the keycard in his blazer, “And I don’t cuddle. When we’re done here, we’ll go back to our rooms.”

“Fair enough.”

The door clicked open with the swipe of the card, and the moment you stepped inside you could feel there was something pulsating in the air. The anticipation had built up so much that it wouldn’t be completely in the realm of impossible if you came the second he touched you. You took a minute to take in the night view through the panoramic window the bed was facing, trying to calm your nerves as much as you could.

Because this wasn’t just sex. This was sex with Chris.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” he wanted to confirm one last time, “I won’t ask again.”

You turned around to face him upon hearing his voice. Still unsure. Still somewhat hesitant. Still waiting for you to say no for some reason.

“I’m a big girl who knows what she wants, Chris,” you started walking towards him in front of the bed, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” he replied with a total lack of pause.

“Then let’s see if you can really rewire my brain,” you threw your arms around his neck, “Before I rewire yours.”

You closed the distance between you until there was barely any air passing between you and whispered against his lips.

“Defile me.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. Don’t throw that word around lightly,” he urged in panic and closed his eyes, “If I start, I will not stop.”

“Look at me.”

He was breathing heavily, trying to compose himself very much in vain. How would that ever be possible when you were that close to him? When your scent filled his nostrils to the brim? When he could practically taste you?

“From this moment on you own my body,” you held his chin. 

Chris was on the brink of going fucking insane. You touched his face, hellfire in your eyes screaming at him how serious you were. Then your lips slowly made their way into his ear. 

“But in return, I own yours.”

The tension building up between you for weeks exploded so fucking hard that it left not a single shred of sanity behind. In one-tenth of a second, you felt his grip on your nape pulling you in for a kiss. That couldn’t even be described as a kiss; he was practically inhaling you whole. You had never had such full lips invading yours before, and it felt a million times better than your dreams. Much hotter. Much wetter. He tasted like a lust reduction—the remnants of chocolate from the drink you shared mixed with his natural flavor so dense on your tongue that it was invading all your tastebuds. You grabbed the collar of his blazer and dragged him on top of you on the bed.

“Don’t you wanna know what’s been happening to your underwear?” he took a short breather from devouring you.

“I have an inkling.” 

“Yeah? How so?”

“I’d do the same if I had yours,” you bit into his lips, “You’re jerking off on them thinking about how much you want to defile me, aren’t you?”

You were just too good to be true. Chris was still trying not to go full berserk on you, but this was your fault for relentlessly seducing him the whole night. He was already marking hickeys all over your neck, then drawing a wet trail towards your chest. His hands peeled your shirt off you as you got rid of his top, both pieces of fabric getting almost ripped to shreds in the meantime, and he almost had a stroke finally seeing your bare chest in the flesh.

“Gorgeous,” he wiped his thumbs on your hardened nipples, drooling at the sight of them, “You’re fucking gorgeous. Fuck!”

It wasn’t even anything that extraordinary. Just him, topless, towering over your body on his knees as he was unbuckling his belt, but you could literally feel your loins burning. There could simply be nobody with a figure as mouthwatering as Chris’, and you were in complete disbelief that it belonged to you tonight. He took off your jeans, and there you were, only covered in a piece of black garment under him.

“That’s too fucking sexy,” he brushed his fingers along the waistband of the lace, “Did you expect to get fucked tonight?”

“People don’t only wear sexy lingerie when they want to get laid, you know.”

“You’re saying I played no part in your choice?”

“No.”

“I love the way you lie to me, beautiful.”

Beautiful.

The word kept echoing inside your head until it was the only thing you could register. You shamelessly grinned at him, and he reflected it back to you twofold. Feeling his body weight on you pushed you to an even more crazed state when he leaned in to steal a couple of more kisses from you. They were getting deeper and a tinge more unhinged with each swirl of his tongue around yours.

“Touch,” he eventually guided your hand over his boxers.

That second you reached for him felt like it dragged on for minutes. You’d been dying to know what he felt like for weeks now, and now you had full permission to scratch the itch that wasn’t leaving you alone even in your dreams. Closer. Closer. Much closer until you finally finally established skin-to-skin contact when you slipped your hand inside.

“Holy shit!” you inadvertently exclaimed when you felt his size in your palm.

“Too big for you to take?” he contently smirked at your reaction.

“Geez, are you one of those that need to hear how big they are to function properly?” you scoffed, “Be humble. Don’t ruin it.”

“Why? Doesn’t it get to your head when you hear what a perfect ass you have?” he dragged your bottom lip down with his thumb, then proceeded to fondle your breasts, “Don’t you like hearing you can kill a man with these?”

How the fuck did he know?!

He was literally airing the dirtiest laundry you had tucked away in some dark corner of your subconscious as if he was a permanent resident there all this time. Well, he actually was considering how much you’d been thinking about him, but still… Still…

“Kill a man, huh?” you put your hands on his and squeezed them, “Suck on them hard enough, maybe you can taste something else.”

You’d just said that to see whether there was any truth to it at all. To confirm whether the intense movies you watched when you were knocked out were based on true stories.

And judging by how hard Chris throbbed with that loud exhale, it seemed— It seemed like…

He lowered himself on your body, and you felt the warm wetness of his tongue swiping across the pebbled skin, teasing it, sucking on it, gently grazing his teeth on it as he would do while making out with you, hyperfocused on reconnecting the nerve endings on your nipples straight to your clit. You closed your eyes, and your fingers slithered in his hair, caressing him, thinking about how hard he would snap if you pulled on it right then and there.

“Just say it once,” he climbed the moist path he paved up your neck and sucked on your earlobe while breathily whispering, “It wouldn’t kill you to stroke my ego a little bit.”

“Your ego,” you sarcastically giggled, “Is that the name you gave to your cock?”

You felt the vibrations of his chuckle reverberate throughout your entire body, and it was just so pleasant to listen to. Chris wasn’t even fishing for praise; he was literally asking for it. 

Had you been seeing fucking premonitions all this time by any chance?

“No, it’s not too big for me to take,” you looked into his eyes, then ran your hands down his back from his shoulders, “But it is mouth-watering to think how much I’ll struggle when you stretch me.”

“You leave that to me. Just worry about creaming all over it, beautiful,” he started caressing your pussy with two of his fingers, “Give yourself to me now. Completely. All of you.”

Chris had been arousing you so fucking much the entire night that you had actually soaked through the layer of fabric. Getting you this wet barely doing anything was inflating his ego more than anything, and although he had promised himself to take it slow, he knew how miserably he was going to fail when he licked his fingers to get one taste of you.

He hooked his fingers behind your underwear and slid it down at a pace so slow, but that wasn’t to tease you. He was trying to mentally brace himself for impact for he didn’t know how hard he could snap when he was finally face to face with your drenched cunt. You tugged on his waistband to signal him to take it off for you, and while you were completely unaware of his internal clash, you were the one that almost shoved him into the mattress when you caught a glimpse of how much he was leaking because of you. His veins so traceable on his massive girth forced your salivary glands to start working over capacity.

You didn’t even need to tell him how big he was anymore. Watching you drool at his sight was everything Chris could ask for at that moment.

He descended between your legs, and the warmth of his large hands transferred from his palms to the supple skin of your thighs, spreading all over your body at a concerning speed. You could feel his breath on your pussy, but he just wouldn’t make a move. Just admiring your slick folds with a lovesick stare, gently stroking your labia while sinking his teeth into his lips, and refusing to touch anywhere that had the slightest trace of moisture on it. It was embarrassing how frequently you were pulsating right in front of his face, but a part of you stopped giving a fuck.

“You’re going to stop bringing toys at work, otherwise I swear to fucking god,” he uttered in a maximally intimidating tone while shooting daggers at you with his eyes, “You’re either cumming in my mouth, or you’re not cumming at all. Is that clear?”

“Why? Does it hurt your pride, Christopher?”

“Don’t talk back to me,” he sank his fingertips into your thighs, causing you to hiss at the delicious sizzle, “Don’t force me to condition you to do as I say.”

“I’d love to see what that looks like.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend it at all,” he shot you a perverse smile, then finally…

Finally…

“God, FUCK!”

He sent a violent shockwave down your spine when he latched those luscious lips to your clit, and you jolted hard in your place. Chris buried his face into you, kissing your slick folds like he had been touch starved all his life, sucking on your clit like you were secreting the elixir of life, and licking into your throbbing hole to prepare you for when he would wear you like a tight sleeve around him. The obscenely wet sounds he was making while brazenly smacking his lips on your dripping pussy forced you to cave way earlier than you thought you could endure.

“Just… Fuck— More,” you clawed at his shoulders, “Finger me. Please.”

“No. Nothing’s going in there before my cock,” he breathily spoke against your slit, causing you to writhe in frustration, “Why don’t you tell me all your intrusive thoughts about me instead? I like having something in the background when I’m eating.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend it at all,” you reflected his earlier remark back at him, but it didn’t faze Chris one bit.

“Just so you know, there’s nothing hotter than listening to someone’s messed up fantasies about me. Especially when they turn me on this fucking much,” he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, “Do it, or I’ll frustrate you until you sob.”

You were in no headspace to properly censor yourself. The buzz of the drinks you’d been downing all night combined with your extreme arousal levels hacked its way through all your defenses and disarmed it. You closed your eyes and allowed Chris to force you to narrate your fantasies at tongue point.

“I want to crawl into your bed when you’re sleeping,” you started describing the images behind your eyelids, “Suck you off to get you hard for myself first. I’ll be careful not to wake you up, but honestly? I don’t give a shit if you do. I’m sitting on you no matter what.”

Chris contently sighed into you, and satisfied with the picture you were painting him, he started swirling his tongue around your clit again with nowhere near enough pressure.

“I’ll ride you until I cum all over you. If you can manage to cum somehow, great, but I’m not exerting any effort to get you to blow. I just wanna use you to get off, then bounce.”

You felt his soundwaves inside you when he softly chuckled. You knew you were on the right path when he paired his licks with sucks on your clit.

“I want you to be so violently obsessed with me that I want to manifest in your dreams every fucking night. I want you to throw hysterical jealousy fits when someone breathes in my general direction,” you started rolling your hips into his face, “I want to haunt your every waking thought. I want you to be fucking restless whenever you’re not fucking me.”

Chris was for sure going insane now. Nothing could be as animalistically erotic as listening to the worst ways you wanted him directly from you, and he could legitimately cum just to your voice rendered in that desperate and eager tone. Nevertheless, he needed to pace himself to stop you and himself from prematurely cumming because he was nowhere near done with you.

“Let me take you out one night when we go back. You’ll get all dolled up for me. We’ll have a good time,” he placed a kiss on your mound, then looked directly into your eyes, “Until you start flirting with people right in my face just to piss me off.”

Oh, Chris was such a quick study. He didn’t waste any time to put what he learned into good use, and just with his opening statements alone, you were willing to give him five stars already.

“I’m not gonna kiss you. I’m not even gonna touch you. I’ll just keep whispering the nastiest things in your ear the whole night and drive you crazy,” he kept drawing the laziest circles around your clit with his thumb, “You’ll beg me to fuck you, but you should have been careful what you wished for. When we get home, I’m fucking you until you can moan nothing but sorry. You fucking know you’re not allowed to look at anyone else but me. You brought this on yourself.”

“And you think that’s punishing me?” you chuckled, insisting on producing snarky remarks even in that disheveled state.

“Oh, no, baby girl. Your punishment is crying in my bed all night. You’re gonna beg me to stop eating your pussy for how much you can’t take it anymore,” he collected as much of his saliva as he could and let it drip down your clit, “Keep crying then because I’m making you cum until you fall in love with me all over again.”

“God, fucking bite me!”

Chris took a juicy bite from your thighs, then started stroking himself to full hardness while diving into your cunt headfirst. His rhythm on your clit got much more fervent, and your moans were climbing to a higher pitch, becoming much more frequent with each lick. You were close. You were about to give him what he was craving for the longest time, but not in the way he wanted.

He stopped.

You let out such a frustrated whimper that it was music to his ears. He wiped his mouth clean, then got on his knees to align his length with you. He was giving you the signal—that he was about to satisfy the raging curiosity for the both of you. Of what it felt like being inside you. Of what it felt like having you tightly wrapped around him.

“No protection?” you feigned obliviousness when he made no attempt for it.

“What protection? How else am I gonna be able to knock you up?” he pressed his flushed tip against your entrance, “Why do you think I kept feeding you oysters all night long, baby girl?”

Chris was barely in as it was, but his insinuation made you clench so hard that you inadvertently squeezed him out of you, which he didn’t like at all.

“Shh, behave,” he shot you a firm look, “Be grateful I’m not shoving myself into you. I’m being nice here.”

His girth was so deliciously thick that a part of you wanted to feel that sudden stretch, but another part of you was enjoying the way he was slowly paving his into you with shallow thrusts, grazing against every single inch of your walls and molding you into a perfect sleeve for himself. 

“Say it to my face. Say what you were moaning about me to my face now,” he spoke, mere millimeters away from hitting a dead end inside you, “How it wasn’t enough. That you need me.”

Your hands reached to grab his nape, and you pulled him close so that he was right in your face when you spat the words.

“You fucking know what you’re doing to me when you tease me, don’t you? I can’t fucking stand you. Nothing will ever be enough until you fuck my sanity out of me, that’s how much I need you,” you squeezed his jawline from both ends with a single hand, “Now you know how much I mean it when I say defile me.”

Your words caused such acute onset ferality inside him that Chris rammed himself inside you at the exact moment his lips clashed with yours, causing your moans to spill in his mouth. Full. That was the only sensation you could process. Just full. He was conquering you inch by inch, claiming all the space you had to offer him for himself with every push. 

“Pull my hair.”

You held his locks drenched in sweat in a tight grip and tugged on them, but it wasn’t enough. When you looked like that, felt like that, sounded like that it could never be enough.

“Harder, baby girl,” he pleaded through his labored breathing, “Make it hurt.”

Upon his request, you yanked it back so hard that his neck was exposed to you in its full glory.

“Oh, FUCK yeah!”

You could feel the signs of trust building more and more between you, but it felt more like soul bonding. Even when you allegedly hurt each other, it was dosed accordingly to inflict just enough pain that wouldn’t cross the threshold of pleasure.

You wondered whether there were any matches that were forged in hell once every full moon.

You sneakily wrapped your legs around his waist and waited for a moment to catch him off guard, then rolled him over to trap him under you.

“Let’s go on a ride, shall we?”

You pulled him out of you and nestled between his legs as Chris rested his tattoo-ridden arms under his nape, just watching you wrap your mouth around his drenched cock with his lips apart. You shamelessly showed him what you were capable of first, carefully taking all of him down your throat without even gagging, making his eyes roll back with a guttural moan. Your saliva was dripping from the corners of your lips every time he throbbed in your mouth. When his breathing finally started to escalate again, you stopped.

Now it was your turn to have your fun.

You worshipped his entire crotch first, leaving lewd wet kisses all over him to get him to twitch for you. His inner thighs, his blunt tip, his engorged length, his shaft, his balls… All soaked with you through and through. You licked the white trails you left on him clean with torturously slow movements, then admired how his veins bulged when you lazily stroked his cock. You knew he wanted much more than this, but Chris didn’t even try to lead you and just basked in the ecstasy overdose you were pumping into his veins. He kept quietly hissing and moaning throughout the whole thing, but when you started making your way further down his balls, his excitement suddenly peaked. 

And the moment your tongue connected to his entrance, he moaned so loudly that you knew you had him in a chokehold.

You held his girth in a somewhat gentle grip and kept caressing him as your tongue carefully explored him. Deep enough to rip his soul apart but still shallow not to disturb his comfort. Chris couldn’t even talk. All he could do was let out euphoric moans and tangle his fingers in your hair to watch exactly how you were ascending him.

He was simply possessed by you.

“Say you’re mine,” you spoke against his skin, “Say it, or else I’m never letting you cum.”

“God, you fucking own me,” he throbbed hard under your touch, “All of me. It’s yours.”

Content with the response you received, you started stroking him faster and getting him even wetter in your mouth. The sudden change felt so overwhelming that Chris wasn’t going to be able to take it much longer.

“Fucking— Don’t!!!” he abruptly stopped you and sat up in one go, “On fours. Bend over.”

You promptly fulfilled his request and first felt a wet kiss on your nape, then his hands on your ass.

“Face down. Arch it. All the way up,” he landed a delicious smack on your hips, “Both hands on your back for me.”

His tip was pressing against your entrance again, giving you such short notice of what was about to go down. Hands pinning your wrists on your lower back, Chris bottomed out with one sharp thrust, eliciting that high-pitched moan he developed a quick addiction to from your throat again. His lips never left your neck as he kept relentlessly fucking your wits out of you. 

“It’s only right if I mark my territory, huh baby girl?” he uttered with a maniacal chuckle as drops of his sweat started pooling on your back, “I’ll fill you up so much it’s going to fucking gush out of you.”

The ownership was about to drive you irrevocably insane. He was hitting a spot so deep inside you that you were seeing white, and whatever Chris told you to do at that moment, you would do it no questions asked.

“Harder,” you squeezed him as tight as you could inside you, “Fuck me harder!”

“Will you moan like that for me when I ruin your ass?” he released your arms and slammed his hands on your hips, “Will you tell me to fuck you harder then, too?”

“So fucking cocky. No one cums from anal, Christopher,” you derided as annoyingly as you could just to piss him off. 

“Aww, you can’t? It’s okay baby girl, we’ll fix that for you,” he tangled his hands in your hair again, “Who do you belong to? Tell me.”

“You.”

“Say it,” he pulled on it to get his message across, “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“I’m yours, Christopher.”

Again. Just like your dream. That just could not be a coincidence at this point.

“Say it!” he urged you once again upon your lack of response.

“I’m– I’m yours, Christopher.”

“Yes, you are,” he placed a sloppy kiss on your back, “You’re mine. Only mine.”

He stopped his ministrations and swiftly turned you around, hurriedly shoving himself inside you again as if he would die if you weren’t wrapped around him.

“Look into my eyes,” he touched your face with an odd amount of compassion that didn’t quite belong to the scene, “I will not pull out, you hear me?”

“Are you expecting me to beg you no?” you started laughing hysterically, “If you knock me up, everyone’s going to hear about it.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, baby girl. You want this to be our dirty little secret as much as I do.”

You locked your legs around his waist so that he actually couldn’t pull out. You pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, and the way you played with his tongue combined with how hard you were clenching around him made him spill inside you with throaty moans quite soon. You allowed him some time to catch his breath, and once he was able to come down from his high, he carefully pulled out of you.

“Watch it drip,” you spread your legs wider, “Watch the mess you made.”

Chris broke into an extremely satisfied smile tracing the thick, white liquid with his eyes, and quickly found himself wrapping his arms around your thighs again.

“There’s my Boston Cream Pie.”

He messily slurped on your entrance to get a taste of the concoction you created together, then latched himself to your clit. You were on the very brink of the ledge anyway, so it didn’t even take ten sucks for you to arch into his mouth. But was that enough for Chris?

What a redundant fucking question.

Your legs still shaking out of control, you attempted to stop him, but he just didn’t give a fuck and carried on with his delectable overstimulation. He finally gave you what you wanted, although a bit too late, and fucked his cum back inside you with his fingers, tongue still at war with your swollen clit.

“Don’t even try to squirt it out. It’s staying inside until it holds and that’s it.”

He was saying one thing but doing another. He told you not to squirt it out, yet once his fingers discovered the self-destruct button inside you, he ruthlessly teased it until he got you pouring inside his mouth. Barely having any of your mental faculties intact, you weren’t able to talk at all, so you mustered whatever strength you could to tap his shoulder three times. Otherwise, you were simply going to combust.

Deep into the late AM hours, you were both floating in bliss. This was by far the most mindblowing sex of your life. As for Chris… 

Except for his regular appointments, this was the first time he didn’t have a mask on when he got in bed with someone, and he was simply dumbfounded at how the fuck he was able to cross paths with a person who was on an uncannily similar wavelength with him. 

Just how were you even real?

After taking quick showers, you left this fever dream behind and headed to your separate rooms.

“Had fun?” 

“So much,” Chris answered, his eyes intently on the carpet covered floor, “Too much, actually.”

“Likewise,” you smiled at him and swiped the keycard on your door, “Good night, Chris.”

“Listen, would you—?”

You turned to your left with one hand still on the door handle, brows raised, waiting for him to complete his sentence.

“...wanna repeat this? On a regular basis, I mean.”

“You wanna be fuck buddies?” you contorted your face in surprise.

“I don’t fancy that term, but something of the sort,” he leaned against his own doorframe, “This kind of compatibility is pretty rare to come by. I thought I’d shoot my shot.” 

The heck?

Never in a gazillion years would you guess the hotshot chef, who was simultaneously your boss and the lead star of your X-rated thoughts, would ask for an arrangement of this sort with you. It caught you so off guard that you didn’t know how to respond to him at first, yet he took your silence for something else.

“Only if you want, of course. If not, we’re never going to speak of this again.”

“On one condition,” you promptly replied when your wits finally clicked back into their sockets.

“Listening?”

“I want free use,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “Whenever I want to fuck you, you say yes to me.”

Chris was prepared for several different kinds of no’s, maybe one uneventful yes, but you straight up asking for fucking free use?

In his most creative lucid dreams maybe.

“And when I want to fuck you?” he nonchalantly asked as if he wasn’t dying of excitement inside.

“I say yes to you.”

“Whenever I mean.”

“Of course,” you shrugged, “Just don’t expect me to come to your place in the middle of the night when the craving hits. Then I don’t come to you, you come to me. If you can bring your ass to my place, I’m yours.”

You were the one with the blaring possessiveness kink, yet the second you said I’m yours, Chris felt something shooting all the way up to his brain, and the pronoun kept echoing inside his head.

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

“But what if I want to do things to you that might scare you?” he asked somewhat scared but still keeping perfect composure on the outside.

“What did I tell you earlier tonight? Just talk to me,” you took a couple of steps towards him, “I can’t promise to say yes to everything you want, nor can I expect you to do the same, but we’ll discuss it.”

You didn’t know where that excess confidence came from all of a sudden, but you watched yourself stealing a kiss from his plush lips as if you had gone out of your own body. It was the tamest thing you had exchanged the entire night, yet ironically enough, it was also the most exhilarating one.

“I might want some things that might scare you, too,” you spoke against his lips.

Chris couldn’t open his eyes for some time and relished the aftershocks of the kiss he wasn’t expecting at all, eventually breaking into a faint smile. When he finally met your gaze again, you could see glints of eagerness flashing brightly in those deep brown eyes of his.

“Deal.”

「© 2023, exxxtraoddinary · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

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