* The Sea Of Monsters.

*ੈ🏴‍☠️‧₊˚ the sea of monsters.

I. POSEIDON'S BLOOD

3racha × fem!reader — badass pirate captain! reader, pirate thief! jisung, pirate! changbin, pirate! chan, greek & roman mythology au, enemies to lovers with a twist, childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, slowburn, found family, poly relationship, pirate au, based on the myth of jason and the argonauts & the percy jackson series, fluff/angst/smut

chapter summary — set aboard haven, you and your crew sail to the island of crete after a disastrous attack from the golden pirate, in hopes of meeting an old friend who could help out immensely on your journey and locate the golden fleece with the help of the archives. but you are suddenly rattled by dream with a godly visit.

warnings — mature language, blood, mention of getting stabbed, death (read series masterlist for more info)

word count — 5K

author's note — the first chapter of my baby <3 it was pretty hard to write in this kind of english, but it was enjoyable at the same time. i had a lot of fun researching the best ways to connect the places in this story with the history it actually has. i hope you like it too <33 please consider leaving feedback in the comments or in a reblog as it would really make my day ♡

HAPPY (LATE) CHANGBIN DAY 💖

minors dni. if you click read, you agree to nsfw content. this series portrays various other kpop idols, none of which represent the actual nature of them in real life. these are fictional characters with fictional personalities. characters depicted in this series are morally grey, they have their flaws just like all humans do.

It had been around two months since the Haven had set sail, and you were about as close to completing your mission as you had first begun it. You fidgeted with the silk of your robes as you anxiously paced the deck, still in a state of disaster after the attack in the previous week. You were doing no help to heal the gaping wound in your abdomen as you purposefully went against Felix's words once again, causing the blond to fret every time he saw you wince, but you waved him off—as if a spear stab was something to be waved off about, as if it were a mere paper cut.

Your crew had initially consisted of a handful of able-bodied men from your city, Salnich, but most of them had either died or ran away the moment you docked at a seaport. You can't blame them though. The quest you were on was that frightening, not your normal pirate journey.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to picture your home in your mind. The docks you frequented, even before you became a pirate. The smell of freshly baked loaves of bread amidst the decaying buildings. Children playing among the dirt and rubble. It was a sight for sore eyes, but it was home.

Salnich used to be a prosperous city, the capital, overflowing with riches and people from all over the Mediterranean. Being a seaside city, it harbored all kinds of folk—from satyrs to nymphs, demigods and mortals, all living together in harmony. It was only when the new king came to rise that Salnich had gone down to the trenches, pirates—nasty, vile pirates, not nice ones like you—invaded the white sand beaches and took everything.

It was as if the earth itself had lost a part of her soul.

The crops withered, the trees grew bare, and buildings grew moldy. There were two bouts of plague that wiped out many people. Outsiders stopped coming. The pirates plundered and plundered until Salnich was penniless.

You were away when the new king came to power, on your own plundering quest with your crew of men. It surprised many in your town, that're becoming a pirate.

The daughter of Jupiter mastered the seas.

It has been your dream since you were a child. Become a pirate and sail across the seven seas, finding treasure and unraveling the world's greatest mysteries. You had prayed and prayed for Neptune to give you passage, to let you across his ocean.

Your prayers were answered.

And you became a pirate.

When you had returned home after the new king's reign had begun, you were devastated. Your mother had passed away from the plague, alone in the small house you called home tucked between two orange trees. You cried for days until you slapped your cheek, the skin reddening from the force, and you pulled yourself together.

With the help of your friend, you proposed the idea of finding the Golden Fleece, first recovered by Jason and his band of Argonauts on the ship Argo, to save Salnich. Once the townsfolk had unanimously agreed to elect you as the leader of the quest, you threw yourself into work, sending letters to friends you've made over the few years you've sailed—demigods and legacies you were sure were vital to your mission.

You had stopped at a few towns to pick up those members of your crew—the chosen ones by the gods, the ones who were said to be as capable as you, the blessed ones of Athena and the daughter of the King of Olympus. Throughout your childhood, you had known you were different from others, although you hadn't been able to comprehend how different until you had grown of age and commandeered your very own ship. Very few in your hometown were blessed by the gods, so it was natural for you to be selected for the quest.

“Captain,” Felix let out an exasperated sigh, his chest heaving and his forehead sweaty as though he had been running for a while, which he probably had if he were supposed to be in his chambers resting. Lee Felix was a lively, blond-haired boy, with freckles doting over his face like the stars in the night sky. He was a legacy of Apollo, Phoebus for you, so he had healing abilities that no one else had, always donned in mustard yellow robes that were murky with grime and blood.

His eyes, usually bright, were now dull. He played the part of moodmaker on the ship—nicknamed sunshine because of his heritage, especially since you were now down to six people out of the twenty five you had set sail with. Now, tending to the others and their injuries, he looked heavily burdened and tense.

“I won't be able to rest until we reach Crete, not because of what happened with Chrysaor,” you said sternly, gripping the railing as you felt the boy step closer to you.

“It was not your fault, Captain,” the voice you heard was not Felix's, but rather your second in command—Changbin's. You turned around to be met with the face of your first mate, a burly, short man with a fresh scar across his left cheek from the Golden Pirate. He was a stubborn man, but he had a kind heart and meant well, which was why you had chosen him as your right hand. He was dressed in his usual robes of red which hid his numerous weapons, courtesy of his father, Ares. You figured he chose red to hide the bloodstains he was too lazy to clean off.

You met his eyes, his warm gaze making your shoulders untense for a moment. He had a way of making you feel less wound up, even if it only lasted a few moments before your gaze hardened again.

“I do not care if it was my fault or not, I care that I have the blood of men, my men, on my hands because I couldn't defeat fucking dolphins,” you seethed, unsheathing your knife from your waist belt and driving it into the wood of the railing. “It was lucky we had Jeongin on board when we did, or we all would've lost our heads.”

You clenched your jaw as you stared into the horizon and took a few deep breaths to calm your simmering anger, letting the salty air fill your lungs and back out. You felt the eyes of Changbin and Felix on you, which prickled your skin once more. Death was bound to happen on this treacherous journey, but you still couldn't shake the cries of pure terror of people you had known since you were a child, murdered in front of your eyes. You had no clue how you were going to face their wives, their own children, when you went back home—if you went back home.

There was no way you were going to go back without the damned fleece.

“Any luck on locating our artifact?” You asked, wanting to divert the topic.

“Nothing,” Changbin admitted, adjusting his belt. “We might have luck in Crete, they have a large archive, according to Seungmin. There has to be something about the fleece, at least one of the thousands of scrolls stored there.”

You nodded, chewing the inside of your cheek. “And how long till we reach the port?”

“Seungmin says not long, perhaps the end of the day at the most.”

“I hope Chan has received my message,” you pondered out loud. “We need the help of Poseidon's blood if we are to sail for any longer.”

“I wonder what he's doing in Crete if he's from Salnich like the two of you,” Felix said, making you and Changbin smile softly.

“He always wanted to escape our home. He had big dreams and an even bigger heart, he hopped on the first ship to Crete years ago.”

“Sounds… admirable.”

“He's a wonderful person. I think you will get along with him well. He might be able to lift our spirits too.”

After much reluctance, you were taken back to your chambers to rest. Felix had worked his magic on you, severely draining him in the process, and left you alone with your thoughts. Your mind was swimming with what you had to face in Crete—hopefully reuniting with your friend and willing him to join your party, revive your crew from despair, restock your supplies, fix the ship—

You shook your head and let out a deep sigh. Your hand rested on your wound, the pain more bearable now. It was a deep, excruciatingly painful wound. Chrysaor had nearly driven the spear straight through your body, had it not been for Minho, another crew member, to wack him with the hilt of his sword, effectively distracting him long enough for you to kick him away. You could still see the unadulterated evil in his blood-red eyes whenever you closed yours, making you shiver.

You chose to think of the events that would take place in Crete, your mind drifting to your past. Chan, the grandson of Poseidon, would be the pivotal turning point in your quest for the Golden Fleece, the margin between success and failure. You have known him since you were little, along with Changbin. He was a bit of a mother hen, even at the tender age of seven years old, always nagging about his attraction to mischief and danger.

The gentle rocking of the ship, the lapping of the salty sea against the hull, the distant murmurs from the crew, all lulled you into a restless sleep.

In your dreams, you were battling Chrysaor and his Dolphin Pirates once again, blood bathing the wooden deck and shouting piercing your ears. The storm overheard was not of your power, but rather the Golden Pirate's, which you did not like one bit. The rain was stinging your eyes, making it hard to see, and your commands were taken away by the wind. Your heart sped up in your chest as you saw Chrysaor draw closer to you, impaling you with his weapon, his face so close you could see the maps of red in the whites of his eyes.

You could almost hear his sinister laughter right next to your ear, the smell of rotten fish and blood burning your nose.

Chrysaor and his golden Medusa mask, a tribute to his gorgon mother.

Chrysaor and his golden blade that was piercing your body, your blood seeping out in spurts, making the white of your undershirt dark red.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, only catching a glimpse of Minho distracting the Golden Pirate long enough for you to kick him away and your dream faded into black again.

When you opened your eyes, you weren't in your sleeping quarters but rather a quaint, little garden, the sound of a lyre filling your ears, immediately soothing you. A man was sitting on a hammock tied to the trunks of two oak trees, plucking the strings of the instrument with a practiced ease, the tune sounding more and more familiar to you until it struck you—it was the tune of the lullaby your mother used to sing.

“Ah, you've come.” The man seemed to have noticed your presence, placing the lyre aside albeit it continued playing on its own, and he stood to his full height. A wave of pure energy washed over you, and you willed yourself to kneel, for it wasn't an ordinary man standing in front of you, but a god. You winced, your stab wound prevailing even in this realm.

“Rise, my sister,” he waved you to get up, which you did. “Kneeling is more of our father's thing, not mine.”

The man had blond hair and warm brown eyes, but you should not mistake the power behind them. He had freckles splayed across his nose and cheeks, a blinding smile that felt as if you were looking straight into the sun.

“Lord Phoebus,” you bowed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I've come to give you good news,” he smiled, and he avoided staring directly at his face. “Your stop at Crete will be fruitful, although not in a way you may like.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear half-sister,” he chuckled. “That someone you dislike will be making an appearance, but worry not, he is the key to the success of your quest. Turn him away and your home will be doomed to ruins.”

You wanted to say something, ask Apollo whom he was referring to, but you were pulled away by an invisible force and the garden disappeared.

You were falling in darkness.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

You woke up in a cold sweat, your ears ringing and your breath uneven, your heart thumping uncomfortably in your chest. Once the ringing had subsided, you could hear the bell of the ship overhead, signaling that the ship was in the harbor.

You took a few deep breaths and wiped the sweat off your forehead, fastening your belt around your waist and sheathing your sword and knife on the chain. Your meeting with the God of Music played vividly in your mind, but you tried not to be too riled up by it. You smoothed down the fabric of your robes the best you could before grabbing your captain's hat and walking out of your quarters to the deck.

“Captain, I was just about to come get you,” Changbin jogged over to your side. Seeing your disgruntled expression, he shot you a concerned glance at which you shook your head. Not now. “We reached Crete. I've sent Minho and Seungmin to the portmaster while the others are securing the ship.” He gave you his answer silently—we will talk about this later, whether you like it or not.

“Good,” you nodded as you walked towards the gangway where a ladder had been lowered. “Gather the others on deck.”

Changbin nodded tersly and went away to fulfill his duty. You walked up to the stern to get to the seaside town in Crete where your ship had docked. If luck was on your side, Chan would be meeting you here and if not, you would have to face the sea without his help—you didn't want to do that.

There were a few other ships docked in the harbor, one of which caught your eye, making you grit your teeth.

Someone you dislike will make an appearance. Turn him away and your town will be doomed to ruins.

“Captain.”

You tore your eyes away from the masthead you were glaring daggers at and walked down the stairs to the main deck where the remaining six members of your crew stood, looking weary and soulless, but alive. In the short time you had been together, you grew closer as a family.

“We'll be staying in Crete till tomorrow evening, perhaps the day after at the most. Jeongin,” you turned to the black-haired boy who stood up straighter at the mention of his name. His eyes were like a siren, and he was the great-grandson of Dionysus, the reason your crew was able to escape from the clutches of Chrysaor and his sea mammals due to their irrational fear of the God of Wine.

“We all commend you for your extraordinary bravery against the Golden Pirate and his crew of Dolphins.” He blushed at your words and nodded. “Tomorrow morning, I will go into the town to hopefully meet the last member of our party, the blood of Poseidon. The ship requires maintenance and restocking. We will plot our next course once we retrieve information from the Crete archives.”

There were a couple of tired ayes from the five of them, to which you pursed your lips. Spirits were as low as they could get. You hoped to replenish them in your short stay in the town.

By getting Bang Chan.

Kim Seungmin was your half brother, you both were the legacies of Athena (Minerva for him), so naturally, you spoke to him a lot about your plans. He was the one who initially suggested the idea of bringing Chan aboard, after hearing about him in the many hearty conversations the crew had in the mess hall over the weeks. He kept his hair short and out of his face, a slit on his left eyebrow was the result of one of his many hair hacking rages. He was the one who steered the ship. He was tall, had broad shoulders and a lanky frame. He was brutally honest, which you respected, but it was unnerving.

He joined you the next morning to visit Chan at the Maritime Bar, after you left Changbin in charge of the ship. You had bathed, dressed your wound (which somehow looked greener than before), pulled on a deep violet robe over your white undershirt and strapped on your belt with your sword and knife. Seungmin was dressed in a brown robe, his eyes focused on the map in his hands, barely looking two feet in front of him as he walked. He was on his fifth back-up plan—what to do in case the Crete Archives were restricted. You assured him that they would let you visit, once you gave them a reminder of your parentage, but that didn't stop him.

The seaside town had a variety of people—townsfolk, pirates, demigods and a few centaurs and satyrs. In fact, it was a centaur who was managing the bar you had walked into. It was rather quiet, the customers speaking in hushed tones, huddled into their booths and drinking rum even though it wasn't near noon.

“Visiting?” The centaur's human part was a man with tan skin underneath the white vest he wore, a tag with a name written in what you believed Minoan, that you could not understand. His horse was half brown, standing at a weird angle behind the counter.

“Meeting someone,” you said shortly.

“Salnish?”

You raised a brow. “Who's asking?”

“A man came by and said there might be a few of those people coming by… An offspring of Jupiter,” he said in a drawl, wiping a glass with a dirty rag while he bore his golden, almond-shaped eyes into your soul.

“And where is this man?” Seungmin asked from beside him, leaning his elbow on the counter. The centaur merely turned his gaze at him, a silent message passing to the two of him that made Seungmin let out a frustrated huff and mutter a few curses underneath his breath and slam two gold coins on the counter.

The centaur took them into his hand and examined them before pocketing the coins and speaking. “He came by two nights ago and gave me a slip of paper to give to the offspring of Jupiter—only after identifying them, of course.”

You wanted to smack the smirk off of the horseman's face as he waited for some grand display. You disappointed him, however, unsheathing your sword that crackled with electricity—something only the blood of Jupiter could do. He let out a tsk and reached into another pocket of his vest and handed him a neatly folded paper which he took from his hands.

“I would advise you to stay wary of the Cretans. Not many are hospitable for children of Jupiter…”

You tried to brush off the centaur's words as Seungmin and you walked into the town.

Stand by high noon. Don't go after the berries.

Typical Bang Chan fashion.

“Does he always speak in Shakespeare?” Seungmin grumbled, creasing the note with his grip. “What the hell does this even mean? Stand by high noon—does he mean the time, the direction—”

“Or a clock tower,” you interrupted him, nodding your head in the direction of the townsquare where a huge clock tower stood. There were four different roads and shops all around. You were hit with a wave of nostalgia, seeing the ghost of Salnich in Crete with its seaport, wild berry vines and the laughter of children ringing in the air. Your home before it was destroyed. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you watched a group of young boys and girls run around each other, yelling playful jabs and giggling in response. It reminds you of when you were of that age. Young and carefree.

“I suppose it could mean that too…” He shoved the paper into his trousers, and his attention was brought back to the matter at hand. “And those must mean the berries,” he pointed in the direction of wild berry vines growing on one side of the tower and on a few of the buildings. “So that means we have to go left, Captain.”

“Well done, Min,” you chuckled at his deduction and the two of you went down the left road. A couple of people shot you with nasty glares, some eyes with a sword dangling at your hip.

“They don't look friendly.”

“Just don't make eye contact. If we're lucky, we should find a cartographer—there!” A few strides down the road was a sign hanging in front of a small building.

“Gertie's Map Shop,” Seungmin read aloud in an almost amused manner. “Find all your maping—they spelled mapping wrong—mapping needs. Expert cartographer—are you sure this is the place your friend went to fulfill his life's meaning?”

The building was… well, it had character.

You had expected Chan to live in some lavish quarters, not a building that looked like it would blow away in a light breeze. You knocked on the door and waited, with your arms crossed over your chest. Seungmin tapped his foot impatiently against the cobblestones, glaring at whoever looked your way for too long.

Finally, you heard loud footsteps and the door swung open, revealing your old friend—Bang Chan. He had grown taller and more muscular over the years, his curly hair was more straight, but there was no mistaking it was him considering the shit-eating grin that formed on his face when he saw him.

“You got my note!” He stepped out of the doorway and in front of you, giving you a sudden hug which you awkwardly returned. You felt your face heat up from the closeness, your palms becoming sweaty as you patted his back. Perhaps Changbin would've responded better. For you, seeing Chan in person brought back a lot of memories—some which you weren't fond of.

You managed a smile at him. “It's good to see you too, Chan. Although I expected a grand mansion with guard dogs.”

Chan laughed. “I did say that, didn't I? Don't worry, my current house is in the next town over,” he swung an arm over his shoulder. “I was on a quest of my own until a few days ago. Mapping Portugal. Exciting, right?”

“Very. You must be in great demand.”

He nodded. “There aren't many Poseidon kids around these days.” He turned to Seungmin, who was looking at him skeptically. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Crew member,” Seungmin corrected. “And half brother, I suppose, but godly relations are messy.” He extended a hand towards Chan, who accepted it with a smile. “Seungmin.”

“Nice name,” Chan shook his hand. “So… crew member, huh? You're really looking for the fleece?”

“I wrote it in my letter.”

“You wrote a lot in your letter.”

“So you know why I want to meet you.”

“You never liked staying away from danger, didn't you, Y/n?” He mused and then chuckled. “I suppose Changbin is on your crew? Never stray far from your side.”

“My right hand. He's taking care of the ship at the moment.”

“And—”

“No one else you know,” you cut him off quickly. A surprised look passed over Chan's face before it went back to normal. You gripped the hilt of your sword and nervously twisted it. “We're dealing with some repairs at the moment, so if you're willing to join us, then I can debrief you back at my ship.”

Chan looked between you and Seungmin before sighing. “You're stubborn, I'll give you that.” His features softened ever so slightly. “You do know I can never say no to you, right?”

“So you're joining us?”

“Yes, Captain, I'm joining your expedition. Gods know you're hopeless without me,” he winked at you, making your ears burn hotly.

You took out your pocket watch. “Be at the port no later than four thirty. I still have to go visit the Archives, and we're already weeks behind our schedule.” You told him, using a more serious tone. Chan straightened up and nodded. “Great. I'll see you then.”

Seungmin and you left Gertie's Map Shop and headed back to the port. Your shoulders felt lighter since your old friend agreed to help you, your goal of saving your home getting closer. Despite not knowing the location of the fleece, you felt comforted by the fact that your two oldest friends were going to be by your side. You hoped things would be the same as they were years ago, your ability to seamlessly understand each other's thoughts and work diligently without too much explanation.

“Well, well, if it isn't the Lady Pirate.”

You knew that voice. It sent spirals of anger through your body. Your hand instinctively went to your sword as you turned to your right and caught sight of a man you hated.

“Vernon,” you spoke his name with venom. If looks could kill, Vernon would be dead a thousand times. He was your rival, a pirate you despised to the bone for what he had done to your home—both of your homes. He was from Salnich as much as you were, but he was a ruthless man who only sided with power, power that was in the hands of the new king. He shamelessly went to the other side along with his crew of equally horrible people, allowing other men to invade your land and plunder.

“And what…” He drew closer to her. “Would the Lady Pirate be doing in a town like this?”

“Not collecting a bounty or killing someone for not being able to cough up money to buy a consort, unlike you,” you spat. Your grip was firm on the hilt of your sword. Vernon could see that, which only increased his delight.

“You will come running back to me, as you did once upon a time, little sister,” he laughed, his words making an angry blush form on your face.

“Absolutely not.” You wanted to raise your sword, to strike him down with a bolt of lightning, to show him that on land, you were the more powerful one. “And I am not your sister, you vile person.”

Seungmin held your arm to keep you from severing your half-brother into pieces and dragged you away from him. Hearing his barks of laughter only increased your fury. You thought of Apollo's words, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Did you turn away from the person who would help you?

It pained you to even think about being friendly with Vernon. He was once like a big brother to you, taking you under his wing to teach you how to control your powers, to scare away the hellhounds and harpies. You were heartbroken to see that you had lost your last remaining family after the new king, and you had developed an unfathomable amount of hatred for him. You always found the need to best him in everything, in the powers of Jupiter, in being a pirate—but you were always one step too short.

Finding the fleece would turn that around.

As you approached the docks, you noticed a lot of movement on your ship. Minho ran the length of the deck, Felix's voice cutting through the stillness of the harbor.

“Wonder what that's about,” Seungmin was equally confused as the two of you went to the gangway, climbing the ladder onto the main deck.

“What's going on?” Your voice was loud and clear, footsteps scurrying all around you until the son of Ares approached from below deck, his face flushed as though he had been doing some strenuous task. His hands were rope burned and his face taut.

You knew something was wrong.

“Is something wrong with the ship? Do we have a leak?” You asked, bracing yourself for the worst. You wouldn't know what to do if you lost Haven, your partner for all these years at sea. “Is it repairable?”

“The ship is fine,” Changbin pursed his lips and avoided his gaze for a few moments. “We've… we've had a small hiccup, though.”

“What kind of hiccup are you talking about?” Your jaw was set, and your hands balled into fists, nails digging into the flesh of your palm. You thought back to Vernon and his smirk, thinking this had to do with him. If it was, you would march right upon his ship and call down a lightning bolt big enough to make you pass out for a week.

“We've had an intruder.”

Your hands unclenched. “An intruder? Why is that a big problem? You have the authority to kick him off the gangplank—”

“Y/n.” Changbin's voice had a tone of seriousness you'd never seen in him, a fire behind his eyes that made him look a lot like his father, like his anger was ready to burst at his seams. Calling you by your name was something he never did unless it was a serious matter. In the blazing pools of his eyes, you could make out something that seemed almost like… hesitance. “It's Jisung.”

*ੈ🏴‍☠️‧₊˚ series taglist.

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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.”

intro + master list

welcome to my corner of delusion.

The SKZ House (series)

Summary: When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see the Sigma Kappa Zeta fraternity ad for an "In-House Stay", you apply and are accepted. Your duties? Cooking...cleaning...oh, and pleasing your assigned members: Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Chan.

Chapter One: Of Breakups & New Housing

Chapter Two: Of Ex's & Tesla's

Chapter Three: Of Blowjobs & Birthdays

Chapter Four: Of Pineapples & Punishment

Chapter Five: Of Mirrors & Lessons

Chapter Six: Of Joy Rides & Hot Tubs

Chapter Seven: Of Watching & Submiting

Chapter Eight: Of Drive-Ins & Wishes

Chapter Nine: Of Halloween & Hallways

Chapter Ten: Of Yin & Yang

Chapter Eleven: Of Triple N's & Multiple O's

Chapter Twelve: Of Delays & Professor Bang

Chapter Thirteen: Of Girl Talk & Berry

Chapter Fourteen: Of Surprises & Closets

Chapter Fifteen: Of Showers & Cabins

Chapter Sixteen: Of Chan & Cuffs

Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights

Chapter Eighteen: Of Beaches & Baclonies

Chapter Nineteen: Of Chokers & Christmas

Chapter Twenty: Of Father's & Basements

Chapter Twenty-One: Of Rotations & Doors

Chapter Twenty-Two: Of Seungmin and Karaoke

Chapter Twenty-Three: Of You (Chan POV)

Chapter Twenty-Four: Of Changbin and Roses (Coming Soon)

References:

SKZ House Photo Book (to help you picture certain scenes)

「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」

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

Smutober ~ Day 8 ~Begging ~ Bang Chan [M]

WORD COUNT: 0.8k

PAIRING: Chan x GN!Reader  (No pronouns used)

GENRE: established relationships, minors DNI, begging, blow jobs, whiney bang chan, sub bang chan,

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - Smutober 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

"Please." He whimpered as you ran the tip of your fingers over the length of his cock, his eyes watering a little as he looked at you. You don't think you'd ever seen your boyfriend look this desperate before and it drove you wild with power. You'd heard him beg before, but this was something else, this was something that was driving you insane,

"Beg a little more," You smirked at him as his cheeks began to flame a bright red colour and he let out a small whimper. 

"Please...Suck my cock, just a little." He whimpered out, his hands reaching down to play with himself but you swatted his hand away.

"I told you not to tease me at dinner and what did you do?" You questioned, watching as he pouted out his bottom lip. He knew exactly what he'd been doing all dinner but he never would have expected you to crack the whip like you were doing right now.

"Yn...Please," He whispered as you continued to run your finger along the veins in his dick, smirking as it twitched at the smallest of touches from you. He let out a small hiss as you moved your hand away from him again, he was desperate to feel you around him, to feel your hand or even your mouth if he was lucky enough,

"You can do better than that." You told him as you watched him panting a little, his head falling back against the pillows as he whined out.

"Do you think you deserve my mouth, baby?" You titled your head to the side and he nodded frantically, sitting up straight and staring at you as you met his gaze. His eyes were filled with need and you smirked a little knowing that you had complete control over him right now, it got you off sometimes.

"Please...Fuck, please Yn I'm so desperate," He grunted as you moved to the end of the bed, sinking onto the floor on your knees and watching as your boyfriend scrambled to sit on the edge of the bed. His dick waiting for you as you smirked a little, precum was leaking from the tip and it only drove you more power-hungry.

"Listen to yourself, you're begging for my mouth like a good boy." You chuckled a little, slowly wrapping your hands around the base of his dick and pumping torturously slow.

"You're begging for me to suck your cock like a needy little slut," You cooed sarcastically but Chan didn't care right now,

"Please, Yn." He slips out as he bucks his hips a little trying to move your hand faster but you tighten your grip - just enough for him to grunt but not so that it was painful.

"Please. I need you to make me feel good! I need you, you're all I ever think about...P-Please, Yn, Please, let me cum in your mouth." Your heart was rapidly pounding against your chest before you lowered your head toward the tip of his cock, licking the precum away and moaning at the taste of him.

"Fuck," He hisses, rolling his head back and letting it hang there as you kiss the tip of his dick as he let out a string of curses. His hands stayed by his side and you wrapped your lips around him fully, smirking as you began to slide your mouth down his dick. Chan couldn't help but let out one of the loudest moans you'd ever heard him do and you smirked,

"Jesus, Yn." You smile around him, he sounds so out of breath and it turns you on more knowing that you were the one doing this to your boyfriend. Your tongue swirls as you bob your head slowly, one of your hands twisting at the base of him while your other moves to cup his balls. Your fingers gently worked the tandem while you sucked him hard.

"Please I'm so close," The sound of it urged you on as you began to move your head faster around him, looking up at him through your lashes as you picked up the pace of your hands.

"Fuck, I-I can't...Please...Please let me cum," He begged and you moaned out around him, staring up at him as you watched his eyes on you. His hips began to jerk a little as he felt himself getting closer,

"Ugh shit...I-I'm cumming," He huffs out as you feel his cock twitching in your mouth, spilling into the back of your throat as you swallow everything he gives to you.

"T-Thank you," He panted breathelssly, falling back onto the bed as you let out a small laugh before leaning down and kissing his forehead softly, 

"Let's go shower, I'll let you touch me." You whispered before rushing toward the en-suite, your boyfriend chasing after you.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @minhosify @choisoorin @straykids5star @heyjiminnie @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @btsiguess-kpop @halesandy

Both

Symphony Smut Series Day 16: Todrick Hall's Both

Lyric: I can make you moist or I can make you fire.

Pairings: Minho × fem!reader × Chan

Warnings: Smut MINORS DNI, oral ( f recieving), poly relationship, dom! Minho, dom!Chan, sub!reader, fingering, double penetration, p in v sex, rough sex, dirty talk, mean dom Minho, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, anal sex eyy, dacryphillia

A/N: and it is the second threesome of this series. I love that you guys loved the first threesome so much so I made another one with Minho and Channie, aka my husbands.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Living with two boyfriends had been a much livelier experience than you would had initially thought. Or maybe perhaps it was because they were Minho and Chan was what made it lively.

They were completely opposite to each other in all aspects. Which especially showed in the bedworks.

Minho was your drug for slavery while Chan was your poison for salvation.

Their duality was what turned you on, they could call you their little princess and give you as much pleasure as you wanted or they could tell you that you're their slut, with a pussy made only for them.

So it was no surprise that when you got mad with one, you went to another.

And on one fine Tuesday evening that's exactly what happened.

"Princess are you alright?" Chan peeked his head around the door, his eyes taking time to adjust to the dim light. His ears were working though, and your sobs broke his heart. He didn't like it when you argued with Minho. He knew both of you were competitive, and competition never lead to much success, it usually led to tears and ignoring.

"If he sent you here-" you hiccuped, looking up at Chan, "Tell him I'm never going to talk to him again."

"You're so adorable." Chan chuckled, leaning into you kiss you, his hands on your hips, "How about a little session hmm? To get your mind off things?"

"What if he hears?"

“Minho has in headphones in” he breathes out, slowly leaning in to kiss you. you meet him halfway, lips colliding against one another as his hand starts to trail down the curve of your waist. He pulls apart for a second, placing a quick peck before he speaks again. “He won't hear what he's missing.”

Chan makes quick work of the pants you had on, tearing them down your thighs as his primal instincts starts to kick in. In seconds, his head is buried in between your thighs, nose pressed against your clit.

“darling-“ he breathes out, absolutely in awe of how delicious you’re going to taste for him right now. “this is…” he trails off, unsure if words could describe how much this means to him.

“Never seen you so speechless before.” You tease, trying not to squirm under his gaze, his eyes locked onto the wet slick pooling at your entrance.

“What can i say?” he presses a kiss just above your clit, eyes darting up to yours. “I like having you all to myself.”

You open your mouth to retort but his tongue catches your throbbing nub first, sending a jolt throughout your body. After that first taste, he’s gone. completely lost in you and the frenzy begins.

He tosses your leg over his shoulder, angling himself to get deeper. His tongue delves back into you and you feel him everywhere. It’s enough to arch your back, your fingers clawing in his hair. He grunts approvingly into your messy cunt, licking up every little speck of drink he can get his mouth on.

Each precise stroke of his tongue has you unraveling in his hold, undoubtedly gushing more of your essence on his eagerly awaiting mouth. He was practically moaning now, the vibrations shooting throughout your body. He breaks for air for a moment, licking his lips and looking up to you.

It’s all too much and you’d be lying if you said his enthusiasm wasn’t the driving force towards your release. you’d never been with a man so desperate for your taste, especially when you were in this state.

Your back starts to arch off the bedroll, reeling in the pleasure that’s about to snap. The coil shatters into a thousand pieces as you dig your fingers into his curls once again. You don’t know if you were loud or not, you don’t know anything as a white veil had taken up your vision, pleasure coursing through your veins as your blood pounds within your ears.

It takes a few moments for you to come back down to reality, your head swimming in the pleasure Chan hurtled you in. You watch as he places one last kiss against your cunt, slowly backing up on his haunches.

"Having fun there aren't you?"

Oh fucking no

You snapped your head up to look at the doorway, where your eyes fell on the image of Minho, casually leaning against the door, shit eating smirk on his face.

"Want a taste? Im done." Chan got off the bed and plopped onto the nearby armchair.

"So the plan did work." Minho chuckled, taking off his jacket, and striding across the room, looking at your confused figure with bedroom plan.

"What fucking plan?" You spat with venom in your tone, making Minho click his tongue together.

"Chan offered to help me after our little 'argument'." Minho dipped the bed down with his weight, "And let's just say, now that you're all riled like our pretty princess-" he took off his belt, "You won't refuse my fingers will you?"

"Fuck you Lee Minho, and you too." You directed the last part at Chan who merely shrugged his shoulders, and lounged on the armchair.

You gasped as Minho cupped your pussy, involuntarily clenching around nothing and feeling a gush of wetness spilling as your body reacted in anticipation.

"Aww did you miss me that much?

“Use your fingers properly and find out.”

Your taunt didn’t go amiss. “Not even a sorry?,” he said, arrogance dripping from each word.

Much to your frustration, your hips rolled into his touch, silently wishing he would stop avoiding your swell. Minho's hands worked quickly to unbutton your shirt. You knew all too well that you’d feel his cock hard enough if he was already this eager to expose your breasts. Your nipples quickly hardened and you rolled your hips once more, causing one of his fingers to slide inside.

It was the vicious clenches around his finger that snapped him out of it and his lustful eyes met yours. “Give me one reason not to slide out of you.”

"Chan's cock is getting hard and you don't want to disappoint him do you? He is the favourite in this relationship right?" You grumbled, feeling Minho's finger slide across your pussy. You tried your hardest not to moan.

Minho threw a glance at Chan who was chuckling behind his fingers, his cock almost bursting through his trousers.

A second finger slithered past your tightness and he brought his lips to your ear. “you're right. He is my favourite, but he doesn't have a pussy like yours does he?”

Your whimpers increased in intensity and you looped your arms around his neck for added support, lifting one leg to wrap around his waist. The new angle allowed him to go knuckle-deep and you shuddered as his strained erection pressed against his hand nudged him even deeper.

He groaned first, clearly enjoying the newfound friction, and you clenched hard at how his face twisted in pleasure. His lips brushed against yours this time, dragging his fingers back as you clenched desperately around him.

“What happened darling?” he taunted as you tried to have him back inside, your hips following his retreating hand. “That desperate for my fingers?”

You whined in response, frustrated that you were now faced with an agonising emptiness.

“Look princess” he continued, sliding one finger back inside, but not quite deep enough to fully satisfy you. “I can be quite greedy when I want to.”

“But what?” you groaned, trying to have him sink deeper to no avail.

He placed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back. “But I am willing to share you with Chan for a bit.”

The moans and whimpers and gasps that slipped from you were being effectively muffled, the third finger nudged at your entrance and you could only roll your eyes shut as your bit hard around your tongue to not give him the satisfaction.

“Surely you can take one more,” he teased, his voice low. It slid inside painfully slowly and the stretch had you gasping.

The combination of being so full of him and how he allowed you to rub your clit on his palm was too much. The lewd sounds were almost too obscene and you gripped both hands together, holding onto the remainder of the sanity you had left.

For a brief moment, he allowed you to ride three of his fingers, giving you the illusion that you’d reach your peak easily and rather quickly. His generosity came to an abrupt halt just as you felt the familiar coil down below becoming more and more overwhelming, your body quickly reaching the point of no return.

And then you felt a painful emptiness as he pulled out from you at once.

He chuckled when you groaned in sheer frustration, looking over at Chan and giving him a smirk too.

Of course. He was a sadist.

“Now, now,” he tutted, caressing your flushed cheek with his thumb, a single tear streaming down your face. “You didn’t think I would be that generous , did you?” 

"Fuck you both so much."

"Well if you say so doll." Chan shrugged his shoulders again and got up, getting onto the bed as well.

"Only if she stays silent though." Minho chuckles like a madman. Fuck you, you thought, but you couldn't get the words out.

Chan removes his underwear, and you suddenly don’t feel so sure that you can take anymore. “i-I” you can’t get the words out as a moan slips from your lips, when he enters you in one thrust. Your head falls back and your eyes close at the feeling of his thick length inside you. Had he always been this big?

“Fuck you're tight” Chan groans. “oh fuck” you breath feeling too full and overwhelmed already, and he hasn’t even moved yet. “How does she feel?" Minho asks Chan “So. Fucking. Tight” he groan as he slowly starts moving.

“oh fuuuck” you moan, unable to stay silent. Your hands search for something to hold on to, and they reach Chan's dark curls “Does it feel good darling?” Minho whispers in your ear as he stretches your ass with his fingers.

“f-fuck y-yes” you breath out as Chan picks up speed. “hmm you like Chan fucking you while I stretch your ass?”. “Yes” you moan again. “Good girl, look how well you’re taking us”

Chan groans as he picks up speed, hitting that one spot inside you that makes you scream. Minho’s hand clamps over your mouth again “what did I say about keeping silent darling?” he says mockingly.

“Fuck you're ready to come again aren’t you, I feel you fucking clamping on my fingers” he groans. “please” you beg them, but the sound is muffles by Minho's hand. “what was that darling….you want it harder and…deeper?” Minho says mockingly. “I think she said she wants it harder Chan.” he says. you try to shake your head, it’s already to much but Chan picks up speed even faster and Minho pushes a third finger in your ass. You come so hard you see stars. But both men don’t stop. No, they continue their ungodly rhythm.

You close your eyes enjoying the feeling. Your eyes shoot open when you feel Chan’s cock move through your folds. "Channie..” you gasps as he puts himself against your entrance.

“you wanted us both, so you get us both” he says darkly before he slowly thrusts inside you. Your vision blurs at the overwhelming fullness you feel. “fuck I can fucking feel you” Minho mutters to Chan.

“fuck” Chan groans in response. You already feeling another orgasm rise. “please…please” you have no idea what you’re begging for, the stimulation overwhelming you. “cum for us” Chan orders as he starts moving in and out of you again. You’re so close, you’re almost there.

Minho lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him, kissing him deeply. “No, I can’t. please” you beg. “You can do one more darling”

“hmmhhmmm f-ffuuuckk” you have no idea where the sounds are coming from that leave you, and who might hear. But you’re too far gone to care. You only feel them. Chan and Minho as they thrust in and out of your holes in a brutal pace.

“oh fuck…FUCK!” you scream out as yet another orgasm breaks you. you feel Chan and Minho come inside you almost at the same time. You have no idea if your still coming or if it’s another orgasm.

The room is filled with sounds of heavy panting as Minho and Chan slowly pull out, leaving you empty and exhausted.

"Princess?" Minho asks uncertainly, "you alright?"

"I'll forgive you if both of you do that everyday." You breathe out, being wrapped safely into Chan's arms.

"Well if you say so." Minho chuckled and smirked at Chan, who smiled back and wraped both of you tighter into a cocoon of comfort and horniness.

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged, send an ask my way!