* 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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Of Kimchi & Ink - Series Masterlist & Teaser

Minty's Masterlist

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

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

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

Posting Schedule

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

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

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

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

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

Sneak Preview

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

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

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

Too long.

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

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

“It doesn't.”

“Do you need a break?”

You shake your head. “No, I'm okay.”

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

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

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

“Okay, I think we're done for today.”

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

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

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

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

xx

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kinktober !

kink: free use

pairing: 3racha x fem!reader

wc: 3.5k

free use: a fully-consensual fetish where partners are allowed to sexually “use” each other at any time.

It was an unusual situation that few would understand. The first thing being that you were in a relationship with three men, and the second thing being that you laid in their studio to be a personal stress reliever.

When Chan had mentioned free use, you’d been uneducated on the kink altogether. Jisung was the most educated - which didn’t surprise any of you, as he’s a massive freak - and Changbin was just as confused as you were. Researching the kink together showed you that yeah, you’d love to be a toy at their disposal and beck and call whenever they needed you to be. You still had the romantic aspects of the relationship too, which made you more than content.

The rules were simple. You visited them in the studio - something you did everytime they were there, anyway - but if you were comfortable with free use, you were to wear the expensive necklace Changbin bought you. Visible, so they could see it, and then you’d be used as their toy. It was the most subtle form of consent ever, but it worked, and you loved every second of it.

“Fuckin’ song’s pissing me off, Chan,” Changbin walked out of the recording booth, throwing his phone down on the table. He normally got his raps done in one or two takes, and he’d been going for a while now. You’d just been scrolling through your phone on your tummy on the sofa, kicking your feet. You heard Jisung scoff, and then he was chuckling. You always stayed quiet - only speaking when they needed you.

“Take your anger out and then try again,” Chan suggested, trying to be soft with the younger man. Changbin huffed. When you looked at him, he was staring directly at you, muscles bulging in his tight black t-shirt but his hair so soft and eyes tender. “Jisung, you go.”

“But if he’s gonna fuck her I wanna watch-”

“Jisung,” Chan chastised, eyebrows raised when he looked at the youngest. Jisung mumbled a few choice words, and then he was hesitant in getting up to go to the booth. You heard Changbin murmur a few things to Chan, and then he was approaching you on the couch. He didn’t even say anything - content with flipping your skirt up and exposing your cotton panties to the room, and you yelped.

“Gonna have you now,” Changbin murmured, thumb swiping across the gusset of your panties. You immediately locked your phone, tossing it carelessly to the floor and spreading your legs obediently. Changbin chuckled, moving your panties to the side. “That’s it. Such a good fuckin’ toy, bunny.”

You waited patiently, head down on the arm of the sofa as you heard the clinking of a belt being undone and jeans dropping. Fabric rustled as he got closer, and then his muscled forearms were caging you into the leather material you were laying upon. You knew you were wet. You always were, waiting for them like this - you had needed something inside of you as soon as you walked into the room.

“Binnie,” You mumbled, shifting your hips back. He was taking his time. Changbin kissed your cheek fondly, and then he was pushing in, his thick cock stretching you beyond belief. You liked it this way - unprepared, so you could fully feel him. He was the thickest, and you whined as you felt the short, trimmed curls at his base scratching against your ass. He’d already bottomed out.

“Such a good bunny,” He murmured, kissing your neck. You nodded, letting him fuck into you at a steady pace. Jisung and Chan were doing something - you weren’t sure what, since you were preoccupied with a thick fucking cock. Your pussy was so wet along his shaft the slide was heavenly, and you always liked it to be easy for Changbin to push into straight away like this. You were their toy, only spoken to when needed and ready and waiting with a soppy hole. “You've been wet like this the whole time?”

“Always am, Binnie,” You nodded, whimpering as you started to fuck your hips back onto his cock. You knew Changbin liked it like this, when you started to really get into it. You’d never predicted how much being treated like a toy would turn you on. “I love your cock so much, ‘s so thick, Binnie-”

“Ssh, ssh, bunny,” Changbin murmured, grunting when he bottomed out and stayed there for a moment. You wiggled your hips, trying to get more of him in, and he grabbed your hips with unbelievable strength. Changbin was the strongest, but the most hesitant to use his strength - he liked it slow, deep like you were doing then, more passionate. He was the gentlest lover. “Let me fuck into you like this. You think you’ll cum for me?”

Changbin started to thrust into you at a faster pace, wet noises echoing around the room. You gasped when one of his hands went up to grab your tit, squeezing your nipple. “I- yeah, yeah, I can cum like this, y’know I love it deep-”

The sound of feet stomping on the floor caught your attention. When you looked up, Jisung was pouting in the booth, headphones slung around his neck and his eyes wide. “So not fuckin’ fair, Chan. Look at her.”

“Jisung…” Chan murmured, ready to scold him. Jisung only pointed at you, your face in pure bliss as Changbin fucked into you. Changbin’s hand went to lift your hips up a bit, sliding one of the couch pillows underneath and you whined, feeling him pressing against that spongy spot inside of you. Chan spun around on his chair, eyes focusing on where you were writhing in pleasure.

He watched you moan and arch your back, eyes rolling back as Changbin's thrusts became more intense, repeatedly bullying into that one spot. Changbin was grunting, groaning into the crook of your neck. Chan's mouth parted, unable to contain his emotions as he watched you in the throes of pleasure. Jisung was pouting, clearly enjoying the show but wanting so badly to be involved.

“‘M so fuckin’ close, Binnie, so close,” You gasped, and Changbin nodded into your skin.

“C’mon, cum on my cock, my bunny,” He’d started to run his mouth, something that showed he was getting close, too. “Such a good fucking girl, waiting like this for us, just- just fuckin’ letting us do this, I can’t believe you, I love you so much.”

You couldn’t help but bite into the leather of the sofa, your vision becoming unfocused as you came around Changbin’s cock. The orgasm was strong, cumming with your clit untouched always was, and you whined through it with teary eyes. Changbin smacked your ass once, and when his dark, lustful eyes focused on the flesh rippling he was cumming too, a welcome warmth inside your already sodden pussy.

You weren’t done, though. You had two more men waiting to use you, and you couldn’t fucking wait. Changbin pulled out, chest heaving as he tucked his softening length back into his boxers.

He kissed your hairline, humming. “Amazing, bunny. Thank you.”

“Do I get Jisung now?” You murmured, eyes landing on the man still standing in the recording booth. You giggled when he threw the headphones down, bouncing out of the smaller room and over to you, completely bypassing Chan’s shouts of protest. You couldn’t even be shocked when Jisung didn’t say a word, throwing his t-shirt off and yanking his joggers down to his ankles. He nearly tripped over them in his haste to get to you, and Changbin chuckled, finally getting off of the sofa.

“Chan, I don’t think the song’s getting done today,” Changbin said, and Chan sighed, nodding.

“I think I’ve accepted that,” He responded. Jisung flipped you over, hands soft but his eyes so wide as he watched Changbin’s cum dripping out of you. “We may as well have some fun with her.”

“Baby,” Jisung murmured, and you hummed. He was staring down at your pussy, shaking his head in disbelief. “Looks so fuckin’ good, baby, I’m so hard.”

You giggled, spreading your legs wider and using one hand to spread your folds, letting Jisung see your hole. You knew it looked used, stretched after Changbin’s incessant fucking with his thick cock - but there’s nothing Jisung liked more than sloppy seconds. “You gonna get inside, Jisung? I need to cum on your cock, too.”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m gonna fuck you senseless, baby, I promise,” Jisung kissed your lips chastely, and then he was pushing inside. Jisung was longer than Changbin, and you gasped when he bottomed out, the curve of him helping to reach that abused spot inside of you so easily. Jisung whined, his bottom lip quivering. “It’s so fucking wet.”

“You’re welcome,” Changbin replied, smug. You scoffed, only smiling in approval when Jisung pushed your legs back to get deeper. You loved this position, especially with Jisung - his cock got so drippy and hard, to the point where sometimes he acted like it was going to kill him. He was lucky you were so pliant. Jisung always fucked quick and hard, hips slamming into you like he couldn’t get enough of it.

Chan's face was flushed, a warmth spreading through his body. He could feel himself painfully hard, his pants constrictive around his erection. He wanted so badly to join in, but he knew he had to stay back and watch. It wasn’t his turn yet.

He had clearly decided he didn’t care. You watched in awe as he shucked his pants off, wrapping one large hand around his cock and pumping at the sight of you. Your pussy was soaking, and you whined, fighting not to make grabby hands at Chan. You wanted him, too, but you hadn’t prepared your ass and you wanted to scream at yourself for it.

“Ji, fuck me harder, baby,” You murmured, and Jisung nodded. You could tell he was close already. He never lasted long when you did scenes like this, too caught up in the way your walls feel fluttering around his cock and he got even worse when he got to go after someone else. He was a freak, but so were you. You whined when his hips picked up, cockhead thrusting into you harder, and you reached one hand down to rub your clit.

“Oh, fuck, baby. That’s it, touch yourself,” Jisung moaned. You squealed as he thrust in and out of you, your hips rising to meet his. He was relentless in his pursuit of pleasure, his moans becoming louder with each thrust. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you knew you were both about to reach your climax. Your movements were sloppy on your clit with how wet you were, but it was doing the job just fine.

“You like watching me touch myself, Sungie?” You giggled, your other hand moving to grip onto the arm of the sofa. Chan groaned from the computer, and when you turned to look at him, he was shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re fucking filth, you know that?” Chan said, and you nodded.

You pinched your clit meanly, letting yourself moan a little louder. You’d defiled this studio so many times that you were just glad it was soundproof. “You love it.”

“Fuck yeah, we do,” Changbin smirked, bulging arms crossed across his broad chest. He was content just watching, but you couldn’t say the same for Chan. Jisung’s eyes were trained only on where you were rubbing across your clit, his eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m gonna cum, you g’ta cum,” Jisung blabbered, and you nodded, pressing harder on your clit. “Love watchin’ you touch yourself, baby, it’s so fucking sexy. Do you - oh, fuck - do you like being used as a toy by us?”

“Oh, Sungie, I fucking love it,” You whined, walls tightening around Jisung. You were going to cum. “Talk- baby, say more, I’m so fucking close-”

“God, you’re our toy but I’m all yours,” He rambled, hands pulling your hips back on his cock. “I’m all yours, this cock is all yours, it’s hard for you always, Jesus-”

You whined in distress when you felt Jisung cumming inside of you, adding to the mess smearing all over your folds. You hadn’t finished, and you’d expected him to pull out, but Jisung slapped your hand away from your clit and rubbed it with his own thumb. It always felt better having one of your boyfriends touch you, and you clenched your walls tight on his cock as you came undone from the pleasure.

He kissed you deeply, tongue entering your mouth in a filthy exchange before he collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. You looked up at him and he smiled, kissing your nose fondly before slowly pulling out of you.

Chan sighed, making you turn to him. Your eyes grew wide as he stretched his arms above his head, finally getting up from his seat and stalking towards you.

Jisung giggled, jumping up to sit next to Changbin. “You’re so in for it, baby.”

Chan gripped your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks almost comically. “I’m gonna fuck you hard, and then I’m going to cum inside that pussy so deep it’ll be dripping out for days. Okay?”

You blinked. “Did I piss you off?”

“You always piss me off, gettin’ fucked like that. So sexy, it makes me so fucking angry,” Chan mumbled, and you tried to suppress your smile. You let him manhandle you so you were face down, ass up, and he finally yanked your panties down and threw them to Changbin. He knew he’d want to keep them, but he always bought you another two pairs in apology, so it was alright.

You laid patient while Chan flipped your skirt up further, the pleats tickling the small of your back. He hummed, swiping one thumb through your messy pussy. You felt a little nervous, like you always did with Chan - he was the biggest of the three, and even after being fucked hard by Jisung and Changbin you were a little worried it would hurt. With a quick smack to your ass, Chan was pushing in, his cock stretching you to the point of disbelief.

“Oh, ‘s so fuckin’ big,” You whined, pushing your ass back. Chan chuckled, grabbing your hips with both hands and bottoming out inside of you. You could feel how wet you were, filled up with two loads of cum already and you felt so used. It made you clench around his cock. “You got a daddy sized cock, Channie.”

“Call him daddy then,” Changbin chuckled, and you bit your lip with a smile.

“You wanna be my daddy today, Chan?” You said teasingly, and Chan groaned, his hips starting to kick up a rhythm inside of you. Your smile instantly fell, falling in a blissed out expression with lips parted. Chan always fucked you so good, preferring you on your hands and knees so he could get inside you deep and watch your ass ripple on his hips.

He pushed your head down into the sofa with one hand, picking up his pace and groaning when you tightened in approval. “Pussy’s so fucking tight. How’s it so tight? You just got fucked open like a whore.”

You whimpered, trying not to thrash your legs. “I’m a whore? God, more, say more-”

“Talk dirty to her, Chan,” Jisung chimed in, his hand already back on his hardening erection. “She loves it.”

“I think you are a fucking whore,” Chan scoffed, his hand yanking on your hair. “I think you’re daddy’s whore, aren’t you?”

You gasped, nodding. “I’m daddy’s whore, oh- oh, ‘s so big, fucking hell, daddy!”

Chan positively whined, his lips coming to kiss at your shoulder. His lips were so plush, so thick, you couldn’t help but imagine him wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard - something he did often - and your toes curled. “Clench that cunt for daddy, c’mon. You need to make daddy cum, don’t you? You’re not good for much else, not one thought in that pretty little head.”

Oh, he had you. He knew you so well, knew you’d squeal at the way he’s talking, and you were obedient, clenching your fluttering walls around that fat cock. You still had protest in you yet, though, despite it coming out in fractionated words. “I wan’ cum too, daddy.”

“Changbin,” Chan started, and the man in question hummed in response. “Come kiss her the way she likes.”

You moaned in excitement when Changbin walked back over to the sofa, and then he was pulling your head up by your hair. Changbin always kissed so deeply, so passionately with his plush, doll-like lips, and he let his tongue enter your mouth. You sucked on his tongue, making him moan and grab your head harder. Jisung stared at you both in envy, and then he was walking over too, cock bobbing with a newly formed erection. He had no shame, stroking it right in front of your face as you wailed into Changbin’s mouth.

“Are you gonna cum for your daddy, bunny?” Changbin muttered against your lips, and you gasped, nodding. “I think you better do it quickly then. He may leave you high and dry, y’know?”

“He’s- he’s not that mean,” You protest, shaking your head. “If he does, I’ll go to Binnie.”

“Baby, c’mere,” Jisung sighed, and then he was grabbing your head, making you face his cock. He was pumping it feverishly, matching the pace of Chan’s hips inside of you, and you licked your lips. “I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it?”

“God, if you cum on my face, I’m gonna fucking cum,” You keened, and Chan chuckled, smacking your ass.

“I think that answers your question, Sungie,” Chan mused, and Jisung nodded, smiling. His eyebrows were furrowed as he tightened his fist around his cockhead, and then he was throwing his head back, groaning as hot white cum painted your face. You just loved being treated like a slut - you were a self proclaimed whore for these three men, and as soon as the cum hit your face, you felt your walls tighten one last time. You writhed through your orgasm, only kept still by Chan’s harsh grip on your hips.

“Changed my mind,” Chan grunted, and then he was pulling out, tapping his wet cockhead on your asshole. You wiggled your ass as you felt him leak pearlescent drops onto the skin, and he started to pump his cock quickly. “I’m gonna cum on this fuckin’ ass.”

“Mm, do it,” You giggled, pushing your hips back. You felt his balls, heavy and full of cum pressing against your core, and you sighed. “Cum on this ass, daddy, c’mon. Mark it as yours.”

Chan groaned, a deep, chesty noise and then you felt the warmth cover your skin. He gasped through his orgasm, his cockhead leaking all over your ass as he came. You belatedly realised you were positively covered in cum, but the thought only made you smile happily. It’s what you’d gone to the studio for, after all.

You felt your body go lax, finally sated as you collapsed on the leather. Chan rubbed his hand over your hip soothingly, and then he was jumping off the sofa and running around the studio like a maniac. Jisung used his t-shirt to wipe your face, giggling.

“Where the fuck are the wipes? We’re gonna get cum on the sofa, what the fuck-”

“Chan, chill out,” Changbin chuckled. “It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.”

Jisung shrugged, soft cock still slightly covered in his cum. Or, was it Changbin’s? You weren’t sure. “I can lick it up, y’know-”

“Yeah, sounds great, Sung. Then we get round two, and the song really doesn’t get done, does it?” It was hard to take Chan seriously with his hands on his hips and trousers around his ankles, and you giggled. Chan looked at you, trying to suppress a smile. “Don’t start. You’d love round two, I’m sure.”

“Of course I would,” You stretched on the sofa like a cat, knowing full well you were smearing cum everywhere. Chan groaned, but just shook his head, sitting on the computer chair. “I’m gonna take a nap. Feel free to wake me with cock, guys.”

“Insatiable,” Changbin scoffed, but he kissed your cheek anyway. “Jisung, back in the booth.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m totally ready now, actually. Let’s do this.”

You smiled as you let your head fall back onto the arm of the sofa, and you heard more bickering over the track before you let your eyes close. You were sexually sated, really, but the question was how long that would last.

❥outsourcing (m)

↳ With monogamy as the assumed, standard relationship model, what happens when a few years down the line, you and your husband come to the understanding that both of you are interested in exploring more?

You call his friend over for dinner and entertainment, of course.

husband!bang chan x fem!reader x bull!lee minho — ethical non-monogamy, explicit sexual content. [5,8k wc] cws: hot wifing/cuckholding!!, dom/sub dynamics (dom!minho), penetrative sex (unprotected), oral sex (m), hair pulling, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation, pet names (incl. slut).

Renegotiation of terms.

There are always terms and conditions.

We don’t typically refer to it in such a crass way – the agreed upon conditions of a relationship upon entering it. The expectations and boundaries each individual may have for the other. Typically, most things that would constitute the terms and conditions are assumed upon entry.

Monogamy is assumed. The standard. This is the baseline, unless otherwise stated. The end all, be all of a relationships' foundation, in many cases. Do you want to fuck other people, or not?

Sometimes, when entering a new relationship, we agree to terms that at the time we are happy with. Of course I don’t want to be with anyone else, I love you, why would I? You’re all I could ever need.

The concept of one person providing any and everything you could possibly ever need. Such a socially common set up for failure. An impossible task we ask of partners without even truly stating it. Be everything at all times for me, and I will be the same for you. The idea that seeking anything outside of a partner is bad – when that is precisely what friends, family, colleagues all provide, without the logical connection being made.

Is one person ever truly enough? Is it logical to even believe in such a fairy tale?

The truth of the matter, is that you are not enough. There is comfort, serenity, freedom upon accepting this as the case. We are only human, after all. Being human is okay.

“Do you ever think about it?”

You watch the back of Chan’s head from your seated position at the dining room table – you watch his arms still only briefly from the chopping motion of him working into the onions on the counter before he turns slowly to look behind him – at you, and his brows furrow in confusion. “Think about…what?”

The innocuous conversation about your time together as a couple – now married – had started simply enough, discussing the past and present and all of your little journeys together in between, sexual and not – but naturally, as the hours wore on, the sexual nature had begun looming more and more in the foreground of the talk.

Besides, you had been thinking about it for months, now. How to bring it up. If you even should. Suppose now was as good a time as ever.

It was difficult sneaking it in there, between some recollection of dirty talking and fantasy discussion. He was the one that had brought it up to begin with, after all. He put the thought in your head. Nothing you were too keen on in particular at the time – three or so years back, and in the middle of sex – but the idea stuck with you, creeping back in with more and more frequency. He brought it up. He mentioned it. It was his idea.

But did he even remember?

Bringing an elbow up to the table and placing your chin in your palm, you grin towards him. Your husband. Love of your life. It wasn’t as if you wanted to replace him, after all. He was perfect, amazing, wonderful, and the sex was, too. It wasn’t about any of that.

You weren’t really sure what it was about. Curiosity? Taboo? A sort of itch unable to be scratched, but also lingering without cause. The truth was this: you had perfectly fine dick at home, so why were you wanting more?

He brought it up.

“Remember that anniversary night that we got pretty drunk, you said that thing,” you begin, taking the utmost care in how you traverse your words. “About…someone else?”

It always was cute, the way you could watch Chan’s ears redden in real time.

“Were you serious?”

Chan sets the knife down and turns slowly, leaning the small of his back up against the counter edge as if in need of the support for the conversation that is about to take place. Chewing on the inside of his mouth as if just as carefully attempting to choose his words, he silences for far too long for your own liking, before finally allowing a response from himself.

“Do you want that?”

“Don’t answer my question with another question!” you whine, jokingly throwing a hand towel in his direction and only for it to fall flat on the floor in front of him. He flinches regardless and smiles.

“Fine,” he says, before making his way to sit across from you at the table. “Then we need to like…talk about this.”

Chan reaches forward and takes your free hand into one of his own, gently rubbing his thumb over the top of it and bashfully smiles at you. Ears still bright with shyness, and he pulls his eyes down and away from your own briefly before answering the question.

“For me? Yeah, I mean,” he pauses, once again thinking through his response carefully and in real time. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything but…I think about it, yeah.”

“Do you jerk off to it?”

“Oh come on, really?”

“I feel like that’s the best indicator of how into something you are,” you joke, “if you come to it, then you’re into it. At least, the idea of it.”

Pulling his hand away and sitting back in his chair to cross his arms, playfully huffy at the way the conversation has turned, he rolls his eyes before reluctantly answering. “Yes! Is that what you want me to say? Yes, I have.”

“Okay, good,” you say, reaching forward again with a grabby hand indicating that you wish to receive physical affection from him just as he had been giving prior to the line of questioning. “What is it about it that you…like?”

You can tell that your husband struggles with coming to terms with the conversation taking place. Not from a place of humiliation, or dissatisfaction, but rather that it was one he hadn’t intended on ever having, most likely. A conversation that he had never once played out in his head, or practiced. A passing whim one drunken night, locked away into the back of his mind – only to be indulged between him and his hand – now bare and laid out on the table for questioning. By his wife. In regards to a monogamous marriage.

…Unless?

Chan shifts in his seat and gives his hand back to you, bringing his elbow up to mirror your own posture before responding. “Suppose…something about watching you – would just be incredibly sexy to me. Making eye contact with you while it happens even if I’m not involved.”

And now you’re really taken aback, because the original assumption had been one of a threesome, but now with new information present – you realize the two of you had been on much different pages all along – and the difficulty of not expressing your shock at the revelation holds firm as it paints your facial features. “Not involved?”

But he only smiles in reply, as if the initial timidity had already worn off with the one, single expression of his desires. However, perhaps he had merely passed it to you, now, feeling the tips of your ears heat up at the implications racing through your mind.

Not a threesome. Watching.

“You think about watching another man fuck me?”

Just right out with it, then.

Chan chuckles at the fact that you’ve finally caught up with what’s actually being discussed and squeezes your hand in affirmation. “You know I’ve never been the jealous type, babe.”

“I mean, yeah,” you stumble through your words, “I just figure…most men would at least want to be involved.”

“I would be involved, I’d be there, just wouldn’t be the one fucking you.”

“You’ve really thought about this before?” you ask, suspicious.

“More than you even know.”

Your eyes widen in silent shock at the admission. You learn so much about your husband everyday, suppose today would be no different, would it?

“Besides,” he begins again, “you’re the one that broached this conversation, so obviously you’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Yeah, a threesome, not-”

“Fucking another man, in general. The details are just that, really.”

Chan saying it like that makes you feel a little guilty, you realize. Shying away from the topic both verbally and physically – gently attempting to pull your hand from his own you watch the way his face Changes from playful to concerned – he always was incredibly attentive and quick on the pickup. “Whoa, whoa,” he stammers, “what’s wrong?”

Concern lacing your own features, you refrain from making eye contact with him – unsure of the turn that the discussion had taken. “I don’t want you to think that you’re like…not good enough or something, or like I’m constantly fantasizing about other men, or-”

“Aww, babe,” Chan coos, motioning you out of your chair and over to him. He seats you on his lap and quickly wraps strong arms around you. “I don’t. I am not even a little insecure about this – or about us – you have to know that.”

Chan kisses your arm, the only thing in direct kissable range and smiles up at you as you look down at him. “Trust me, that I know what I’m okay with, yeah? You don’t have to babysit me, I promise.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

“So, shall we dabble, then? Wade in the pools of non-monogamy?”

Hearing him say the words, non-monogamy, it sort of makes your head spin. Obviously, that is precisely what is at hand, so it being said shouldn’t elicit such a bizarre reaction deep within you. Innate guilt, worry, almost a sense of dirtiness begins to bubble up in your gut – and realistically, you know why.

Monogamy is the implied social standard. Anything outside of that is wrong. That’s what you’ve grown up being told…by everyone, by everything. Is it really okay, to bring someone else into your marriage, even if both parties are enthusiastically on board?

Hell yeah it is.

The truth is, renegotiating the terms of ones marriage – even just for a night, takes time. It takes work. It takes numerous conversations – and as a result, it’s approximately six months that go by before the logistics ever really feel ironed out enough to make the dive. Discussions of friends? Mutual friends? One-sided friends? Strangers? Each coupling will have their own preference of whom to invite in, even be it only for an evening, but upon settling on the first term, it’s only a whole slew of others thereafter. After a point, you begin to consider if sex is ever even going to happen, or if the two of you will simply talk about it forever.

But such is how it must be, to help ensure that the night – and relationship – not end in catastrophe.

It does, however, sneak up on you faster than expected – once a third and the date arrive. Standing in front of your bathroom mirror, clipping the backing of your earring on – is when you hear the voice of your husband greeting another of only semi-familiarity.

Lee Minho was Chan’s friend. He was in the wedding party. The two of you had spent just enough time together that you felt comfortable around him but not so much so that he felt too close to you, specifically. The perfect candidate. Drop-dead gorgeous. Not shy about his particular…endeavors, either. He fit the bill, perfectly.

Because you and your husband were searching for something quite specific for the evening.

It was in that moment, though – knowing that the two men were both in your home now, that it felt truly real. Of course, there was still much conversation to take place before anyone's clothing would be coming off, but he was here. Your husband was here. You were here. You were…going to have sex with another man for your husbands viewing pleasure tonight.

Probably not a story for the future grandchildren.

“Hey.”

There they are. The two men of the night standing in the doorway, now both looking at you as you slink into the living room slowly – as if not to disturb, and you can’t help but carefully scan the expressions on both of them – as if looking for the tiniest sign of reluctance.

But Minho knows why he’s here tonight – naturally, best not to spring this sort of arrangement on an unsuspecting party.

“Hey,” Minho says, continuing to shrug off his coat and hanging it on the rack next to the door. With shoes already off, he makes his way over to you and kisses the air next to your cheek. “Long time no see, huh? You look nice.”

It feels normal, in ways. It also feels incredibly bizarre. Perhaps you expected him to act some way, some way different – although you’re not sure how. But he wasn’t. He was the same as always. You aren’t sure if it makes it feel better or worse. Weird?

You look over at your husband, once again looking for any signs that this should end now before it even gets started.

But Chan only smiles. All lights green for go.

Chan handles dinner as he typically does, and it goes smoothly as expected. Catching up with Minho as if he’s any other house guest – except for tonight, a careful consideration for the alcohol intake by all parties. A soft ‘two drink maximum’ is agreed upon long before his arrival by all participants, as to not get too carried away on any end. Once food is eaten and plates cleared, Chan pours everyone their second and final glasses of wine for the night before taking his seat at the shared table again and he inhales deeply, purposefully.

Because it’s time for negotiations.

“So, suppose we should talk about the rest of the night, then?”

You shuffle in your seat a bit at the idea of how the talk will go, despite having already had similar discussions previously over the months. Minho is no stranger to the topic at hand, and it’s not even his first time being a third to a couple – information he casually mentioned upon the first inquiry – it was comforting to you in a particular way, that at least someone involved in tonight's festivities had been here before.

“Pretty much,” Chan starts, and surprisingly confident, “the two of you just have fun. I don’t have any particular boundaries of what you can and can’t do, but I think it’s best if we use the color system for safety, just in case.”

Green means “everything is good,” yellow means “slow down, I need a moment to recollect myself,” and red means “immediate full stop.”

“Yeah, that sounds best,” Minho agrees, and then turns his sight to you across the table. “Are you okay with that? Is there anything you can think of that you do or don’t want me to do?”

Just the question itself makes you feel a little light-headed. You had thought about this numerous times already, for months, and yet your mind still felt empty in the moment. As if not even a second of consideration had been had prior. It was excitement, but it was also fear. The fear of doing something wrong. The fear of the potential aftermath of tonight.

Sensing your hesitation, Minho looks at Chan before reaching his hand across and taking your own. “Hey, you don’t have to do this just because I’m here, seriously, we don’t have to do anything, I can go home now, later, right in the middle of it – it’s all fine by me.”

“No, no!” you insist, realizing how standoffish you appear. Reluctant. scared. You are a little bit, but in no way are you rethinking. “I do, I want to…I'm just, nervous? I guess?”

“Is it because I’m here?” Chan asks suddenly, and you realize upon hearing the words that yeah, it kind of is. He smiles and nods at your admission, gently reaching over and adding his own hand onto the pile of reaffirming ones already laid out atop the table.

“Don’t worry about me, if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

Arms pull back and negotiations continue, easier than before. Minho asks about the common things; condoms, anal, penis in vagina, oral…along with some less common things that are more within the scope of the role he’s meant to play that night, and with boundaries more or less set, the three of you stand up, and head towards the bedroom. Minho walks ahead, taking your hand into his own to lead you – briefly looking back at your husband, with a smile on his face – it’s the first time that the guilt and fear truly subsides – and is replaced with excitement, anticipation, desire.

Pulling up a chair, Chan sits himself down a bit distanced from the corner of the bed as to allow ample space for the scene that is about to take place before him. You suspect that perhaps he had downplayed his interest in the whole thing, with how the smile on his face never diminishes even once Minho starts kissing you.

You think it’s charming, but you know that eventually, you’re going to have to let the thought of your husband fall by the wayside to truly enjoy the fun that the night has to offer.

Standing at the side of the bed, Minho gently wraps one, strong, arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him before kissing you on the mouth – and the excitement of another man kissing you, lips completely unfamiliar after years of familiarity, immediately sends a rush of anticipation to your groin. Gently sucking at your bottom lip, teeth ghosting against the flesh – you’re reminded that Minho had been invited to play a very particular role that night – one that Chan never had been all that willing to play, even after all of your years together.

Minho was there to use you.

Pulling back from you, you already feel a bit dazed from the rush of adrenaline – looking at the man before you as he begins unbuttoning his white dress shirt, looking at you through long lashes and whispy, black hair, he smiles briefly before quickly kissing you again.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, remember that,” he whispers as he continues fiddling with his buttons. “Ever. You can tell me to stop any time.”

“I know,” you respond, a bit breathier with want than you had liked, and Minho chuckles under his breath at the effect that he’s already had on you before shrugging his shirt off and bending down for the bottom of your dress – carefully pulling it up and over your head.

Now it was very real.

Minho kisses you again, arms pulling you against him, and you revel at the way it feels to have the heat of another man on your skin. When you had imagined the moment, you hadn’t thought it to feel anything like this. The excitement, the anticipation, the needy want of another man inside of you, and already? Truthfully, you were a little humiliated at what he was doing to you.

“I’m gonna start the scene now,” Minho says quietly, looking you in the eyes and scanning your features. “Remember what I said.”

“Yeah, okay,” you exhale, and it’s shaky.

“Are you okay?” Minho chuckles again before starting, and you can only laugh at yourself in response.

“Yeah, you’re…I want to fuck you.”

You hear Chan off in the corner, and he’s laughing at your admission, which only causes Minho to laugh a bit, himself. “Okay well, we’ll get there, needy.”

Hearing Minho call you needy certainly doesn’t offset your desire for him, but watching his expression harden and his eyes darken right before you – as if settling into character – only sets off the growing desire in the pit of your stomach more.

“Get on your knees.”

Minho is already unbuckling his belt and prying his zipper down as the demand leaves his lips, and you’re all too happy to follow suit, dropping quickly and placing your hands on his thighs for leverage as he exposes himself to you. Slightly thinner than Chan, but also slightly longer – the idea of taking a dick that you’re not familiar with rushes to the forefront of your mind and the familiar ache of want begins to settle between your legs.

You haven’t even touched it, yet.

“Why don’t you go ahead and make coming here worth my time, then?”

And you’re all too happy to oblige, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and slowly working him before gently running a circle over the tip of him with your tongue – Minho’s breath hitches as he watches you then take the majority of his length into your mouth. Three strokes of your lips onto him, Minho brings a hand up and into your hair, gripping slightly and pulling you off of him. He smiles, rubbing the head of himself against your already red lips and watching the way you already – seemingly desperately – wish to have him in your mouth again.

“Look at you,” he says, satisfaction lacing his tone, “so desperate for strange cock. Color?”

It almost gives you whiplash, but you answer right away, “green.”

“Good, that’s what I thought – now show me just how bad you want it.”

And you do, in quick fashion. Combining the motion of your mouth and your hands as you work him, tongue lapping circles over the tip of his cock when you pull off, you love the way he watches every motion of you on him – and almost with a look of disdain. As if he doesn’t respect you, as if you’re nothing but a place to come for him.

Precisely everything that Chan could never do.

Working him quickly, you feel his fingertips curl into your scalp as the words leave his lips – except that they’re not intended for you.

“Mmm, your wife sucks cock pretty well, might have to make a regular arrangement of this.”

You think in that moment, that you might come untouched after all.

But just as quickly, Minho pulls you off of him and motions for you to get onto the bed as he pulls his jeans from his legs the rest of the way. You quickly oblige, and it’s not long before Minho is up and between your legs – meeting you face to face again and kissing you rough, with teeth. needy and hard between your legs. Hands snaking up his toned arms – not as thick and built as Chan – but enough to be strong, you feel all of the ways that he’s different from the man that you married. That you love. The thought brings your attention back to Chan, seated across the room – hand firmly and slowly wrapped around himself.

He was enjoying watching it. Suppose it really was his ultimate fantasy all along: watching you fuck another man for his entertainment.

And naturally, the fact that he was enjoying it, touching himself to it, only made the desire pool between your legs that much more.

“Don’t look at him,” Minho says, pulling your face over and towards him with a finger, “you’re mine, tonight.”

Oh my god.

You feel Minho’s hand slink down your body and between your legs, fingers pressed up against your clothed pussy, and you watch the way genuine shock takes his features – it’s almost out of character in the split second – it might actually be out of character.

You wore lace panties. Can’t hide much with that.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims, barely touching the soaked fabric between your legs, “you’re so wet.”

“Minho!” you shyly reply, swatting his arm as it holds him in a hovering position over you, and he only laughs in response.

“Sorry, I’m just – wow – good.”

And it’s as if he remembers to slip back into a more domineering character, that he adds, “I was going to eat you out, but suppose I don’t have to.”

Pulling himself up and seated on his heels, Minho slips a finger on each side of your hips into your panties, “can I take these off?” and you nod hurriedly in response. Minho’s eyes follow the string of arousal that connects the fabric to you as he pulls it from you in near awe – and playfully shakes his head at you before crawling back up your torso and settling down against you – head of his length just faintly pressed against your folds.

“Sure you don’t want me to wear a condom?”

“No, I-” and you pause, eyes pulling towards your husband again – his own eyes intently gazing upon the display in front of him – and you snap.

“I want to feel you, I want to feel all of you.”

Minho only smiles, dipping his head down into the crook of your neck as he reaches down to line himself up with you. Kissing your skin, his lips make their way to the shell of your ear as he slowly presses himself forward and in.

“God baby, you want me so bad, hm? Don’t worry, I’ll have you drooling for me…”

It’s a whisper, dialogue only to be heard between the two of you – not for your husbands ears, and the implications make your head spin, along with the slow stretch of unfamiliarity prying you apart in new and different ways from what you’re used to. Once pressed hip to hip, Minho stills and pulls himself up and off of you to look at you – taking you in visually.

“Can I move?”

“Please,” you just about beg.

If you were honest, Minho was being much less domineering than you had expected – you assume that it’s due to this being the first time that this arrangement is taking place – that he’s playing it safe and not wanting to take too many risks. You kind of wish he would be riskier, but the excitement of a new partner is already doing majority of the work for him as it is – mind racing at how wrong it is, allowing another man to fuck you, and raw at that.

And come inside of you?

With just the thought, your walls tighten against him and he feels it, humming at the sensation in a slow build up to a pace that suits the both of you – Minho hovers over you with both palms flat against the mattress to either side, looking down at how he enters and exits you – and then back up at the absolute delight splashed across your face.

Biting your lip as his pace builds, the overwhelming need to vocalize threatens you, and it feels all too real in the moment. Moaning as another man fucks you, for your husband to hear, but Minho’s too quick on the uptake and he recognizes it. Another easy win, for him.

“You worried he’s gonna hear you?” Minho groans as he finally settles into his pace – fucking hard into you and the sounds echoing throughout the room. “Worried he’s gonna hear how much you love my cock? He can hear you, he’s going to hear you, it’s okay.”

You can’t even control it at that point, exasperated fuck and oh my God escaping your bitten red lips as he fucks into you, and it only makes him thrust against you harder – so hard that it pushes you up the bed. “That’s right, don’t hold back, let him hear you, baby, let him know you like it.”

Head spinning, and muscles tightening, you scramble to grab onto anything that you feel will give you any sort of leverage as you feel your first orgasm quickly threatening – Minho’s forearms seeming as good a choice as any as your nails dig in, and he hisses in response with a smile, all the while continuing his relentless pace into you.

“You can come” he insists with a soft, gentle utterance, “you can come for me, and you can come for him.”

And for whatever reason, that’s what makes you snap.

The orgasm tears through you in violent fashion, eyes darting down to watch your husband as he pulls at himself at the sight. Looking back up at the man taking you through it, he grins down at you with his bottom lip pulled up between his teeth in satisfaction.

As Minho finishes riding you through it, he presses himself down against you again – mouth against the skin of your cheek, hot breath against you as he breathes out, and you can feel him begin to withdraw from you.

“That one was for me, now one for him, hm?”

Before you can think through the implications of the words, Minho pulls up and away – taking your limp body with him and turning you to face Chan across the room – your arms barely able to catch you from face planting into the mattress, and the man steadies your hips up and towards him and just as fluidly sinks himself into you again with a groan as he leans forward and settles a fist in your hair – ensuring that you’re watching your husband just before you.

“You like having him watch you?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out and against the sheets.

Minho looks up and at Chan, “you like watching her get fucked?”

It’s breathy and shaken, but a “yeah” escapes from him in response.

“Good,” Minho says, burying himself deep into you from behind – so hard that the force and weight of him pushes you down and flat against the bed beneath you – now straddling you from behind, he brings his hand back, flat against the between of your shoulders to hold you in place as he continues into you. “She’s so wet, think she’s going to come watching you.”

Chan groans at the words, and the truth of the matter is that he might be right – feeling the familiar coiling between your legs again, and already at that.

“You gonna come for him, baby?” Minho growls, his motions harsher and rougher than before, getting more comfortable in his role as a sort of dom for the night. “Gonna let him watch you get filled up with my cum, maybe?”

“Fuck, Minho,” is all you can manage through gritted teeth, fingertips curled into the sheets beneath you begging for any purchase onto reality, but the truth is, you’re watching Chan – watching the way he palms himself at the sight of another man fucking you, talking to you like this, saying that he’s going to come inside of you – and Chan is enjoying it. He’s close.

It only gets you there even faster.

“Oh, hear that? Thought of me coming in her has her moaning my name,” he says smugly, thrusts harder than ever before, “well go ahead then, milk me, slut. Earn it.”

Quickly, you feel Minho lean down and against your ear, “can I cum inside of you?” and you just as quickly answer in affirmation. You had discussed it prior, but you appreciate the check in, nonetheless. He pulls back up, both hands gripped into the flesh of your behind as he rocks into you, desperate pleas for him not to stop falling from your mouth as you bring your attention back up to your husband – and with finality, you deliver the final blow of the night.

“I’m coming, please, please, i-inside, I want-”

Your incoherent babbling is enough to set both of the men over the edge, but it’s Chan who is the first to go, breathy curses leaving his lips in what you think might be the hardest he’s ever come – and you think to yourself in one split-second moment of clarity how lucky you are to be in such a position where you can simply witness it, as almost a bystander of sorts – to the absolute visual glory that is your husband stroking himself to completion as milky-clear ropes of cum coat his abs and fingers upon the display before him.

You’re the second to find your end, tightening hard around Minho’s cock at the visual of watching Chan finish, and it’s all it takes to topple the man inside of you over the edge – fingernails gripped deep into your skin as he fucks into you hard – three, four more times – throbbing through his release inside of you before slowly coming to a halt and slumping over your back with a heaving chest.

As sanity begins to come back to you, you consider the fact that there’s a lot of post-nut clarity to wade through right about now.

But Minho takes over, just as he had majority of the night – being the sort of guide throughout – he soon after finishing withdraws from you and peels himself from you altogether, lying down next to and brushing hair from your face.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, but the concern across his face pushes you forward. he’s worried. He needs to hear that you’re okay. That it’s all okay. That he didn’t fuck up and that you’re not feeling regretful, guilty, remorse.

“Yeah,” you finally exhale, “yeah, I’m okay, I feel good.”

And Minho smiles at the response, feeling relieved. He reaches down and finds your hand, lacing his fingers with your own, before leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead. “Good.”

With that, he then slowly cranes his neck up and over to get a visual of Chan, still breathy and spent just a bit across the room. “You good, champ?”

But Chan can only chuckle in response at first, before nodding and acknowledging the mess before him, “if she’s happy, then I’m happy.”

“Thanks for everything again,” Chan says, handing Minho a bag of food to take home in the morning. “You do good work, very professional,” he jokes.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m work for hire, oh my God,” Minho scoffs, pulling his jacket on and taking the bag from Chan. “I did you the favor!”

“Fucking my wife is a favor to me?”

“Evidently, I didn’t invite myself.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you smile, playfully slapping Chan on the arm before reaching towards Minho and hugging him goodbye. “Thanks for last night, you took really good care of us, it means a lot.”

Minho sort of rolls his eyes, as if embarrassed by the idea of being complimented for a job well done, but says that you’re more than welcome to you before turning back towards your husband, and with an elbow to the arm and a sly grin, “be careful buddy, might steal your girl.”

And Chan rolls his eyes in response, thanking Minho again for his time before pushing him out of the front door in envious jest.

With the door closed, and an end to the chapter, Chan pulls you into his embrace and hugs you tightly, much to your surprise. “I love you,” he says.

“Babe,” you start, apprehensively, “are you really worried he’s going to take me? You don’t have to-”

“No,” Chan interjects, pulling you from him and just as lightning quick hoisting you up and over his shoulder before heading to the bedroom.

“But don’t worry, I’m about to undo everything he just did.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

☆ questionable events in the living room: sucking tits edition ☆

WARNINGS: MENTION OF CHAN GOING TO LITTLE SPACE AND WANTS TO BE COMFORTED SEXUALLY. PRIOR CONSENT DISCUSSED BUT NOT MENTIONED IN THE STORY.

Jisung has come across a lot of questionable things happening in the dorm's living room.

One would be the time when Hyunjin tried to prove to Minho how his yoga classes actually work, to which Minho just wickedly watches with a sly grin on his face when Hyunjin gets into a weird looking frog position. They may or may not had to call the ambulance to untangle the boy.

Another was when Changbin was in one of his i-need-to-train-everyday phases but couldn't go to the gym because of sasaeng issues. This resulted in an absentminded crash of his heavy dumbells onto the tiled floors, which cracked beyond saving. And then there was Felix trying to DIY his way to help out his Changbin hyung by making some resin art in between the cracks. It was pretty, sure, but didn't save any of them from the wrath of the landlord and company staff.

He has many more anecdotes to share but his thoughts are interrupted by a sweet and soft apology.

"I'm sorry, Ji. Can't move. He's had a bad day, he's in his little space and I need to let him get his fix. You understand, right?"

There he was, in the hallway, standing in a position that lets his sight land straight on a black haired man who is definitely engulfing your body under him, probably crushing you a little but fuck, Jisung thinks it's only appropriate because you look so squishable. So soft all over.

And did he mention how the man who is supposed to be their very grounded, responsible leader, has his mouth wrapped around your right tit - slurping, sucking, biting.

The sounds - gosh the sounds he's making and the face you're trying to not make is definitely making Jisung lose his mind a little.

Chan keeps on sucking. His other hand fondles your left breast, feeling his stress disappearing little by little. His mind is able to compute that someone is looking but his whole body won't budge. He needs this. Needs you like this. Needs to imagine the remnants of the milk candy he can taste on his tongue is how your milk would taste like when you're finally pregnant with his baby.

He knows it isn't accurate. But he doesn't care. He only knows that the day he gets to call you his wife, have a family with you and live with you forever is the day he's gonna be truly the happiest man in the world. And today, right now, the fact that you agree to not move no matter what happens or who happens, is enough to tell him that you'd do anything for him as he would for you.

"J-ji? I-i'm sorry. But i promised. Promised Chan. I know this isn't the best situation for you but- ah, Channie, Channie baby not too hard, hmm?" your shaky voice continues, sending waves and waves of horniness to Jisung's dick.

He can only clear his throat while his eyes are fixed on how your tit spill in between Chan's fingers. What a lovely sight.

And everytime Chan lets his mouth off of your tit to give licks instead, he can see your hard nipple just waiting to besucked on again.

If he were Chan, he'd request for this too. On a stressful day, getting to suck on a pretty girl's tits - who wouldn't want that?

Chan lets out a growl. Clearly engrossed in his quest of sucking your tits. And you, you're definitely into it too. Your hand is gripping Chan's hair while your eyes flick between your lover and his bandmate. Everytime you try to speak to Jisung, trying to apologise because the lack of words coming from the man in the hallway is making you a little nervous, all that comes out is a few words of apology attempts while the others are moans and gasps.

Eyes rolled back.

Mouth slightly ajar.

Tits shiny with spit.

Jisung is definitely gonna have to search for hentai that's similar to the sight in front of him. He doesn't know why you're even apologizing but he definitely knows why he can't seem to move.

"We- we owe you. Promise. We owe you. Big time. Let us, let us continue, hmm? Don't be mad, please- oh yes, yes Chris-"

And the moment you make such a dangerous promise, Jisung smirks. He isn't even mad in the slightest.

If the girl says they owe him, then they owe him. He's gonna have his own fun soon. Very soon.

Kinktober '23: Mutual Masturbation | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Afab GN!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023

Summary: Your boyfriend overhears you joking with your friends that men don't seem invested in pleasing their partners. He's determined to learn exactly how you like to be taken care of.

WC: 2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (have fun, be safe), mutual masturbation, squirting, breeding kink, use of petnames for reader (baby, pretty), mention of potentially passing out near the end

A'N: Sorry that this took so long, but hopefully we'll be back at it soon here! Enjoy

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha / @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

It had really just been a stupid conversation between friends, a silly little comment you'd made about how men always seemed to have such a hard time pinpointing what their partners liked, as if they were too concerned with themselves to put in that much effort. You hadn't anticipated Chan overheating it, let alone the confrontation that would come afterwards.

"Do I make you feel good?" He asked one night over take out. You gave him a look, not entirely sure what he was talking about or what had prompted it.

"What? Make me feel good?" You asked, taking a bite of your egg roll. He nodded with a firm, serious look on his face.

"Yeah. I heard you talking when your friends were over. And you said men never learn how to make their partners feel good. Do I make you feel good? Or is there something I should learn?"

He didn't sound angry, but the intensity in his demeanor was enough to tell you that he was being completely serious. You put down your food, turning to face him.

"Channie, if this is about you being insecure or anything, you don't need to. Im very satisfied, don't worry about that," You told him carefully. "it was really just a joke, I was just having a chat with the girls, and Chaer had been complaining about the guy shed been seeing."

Chan shook his head. "No that's not what it is, not exactly. Im not worried, I know I can take care of you. But if I can take care of you better, I wanna know. I wanna take care of you the way you do."

"Okay?" You asked, motioning for him to go on.

"So I want you to teach me." He said.

"Teach you?"

"Teach me how to make you cum. Show me how you like to be fucked."

The words set your entire body on fire, heat searing straight to your core. Your food was forgotten as you tried to wrap your head around the request from your boyfriend.

"You want me to...touch myself for you?" You asked. Chan had never been overly possessive or anything, but he was always determined to make you feel good on his own. And he was certainly good at it, you had never been let down. 

"Will you? If you're comfortable with that."

"Yeah. Yeah I can try."

Which was how you ended up propped against a pile of pillows in your shared room, spread out on the bed while Chan sat in his gaming chair at the end of the bed. It was the hundredth time he'd seen you naked, but something about it felt so much more exposed. You had stripped down, but he was still completely clothed, insistent that this wasn't about him.

"Do I just..."

"Do what you'd normally do. What you do when I'm not around to play with you." He said. You nodded, closing your eyes and trying not to be hyper aware of the eyes on you.

You started slow, your fingertips running up your stomach, over the curve of your chest and back down again, dragging your dull nails over your skin and humming at the feeling. It was nice, just giving yourself the attention. You brought one hand up, letting it dance along your collarbone, over the sensitive spots on your neck while the other flicked and toyed with your nipple. You whined lowly, basking in the light shocks sent through you at the soft tugs.

You could hear Chan, hear the way that his breath caught when you made any sort of noise, and you imagined that he was making mental notes of every spot that earned the tiniest squirms or hums of approval. He was reading you like a book, memorizing your body like it was the most important thing he'd ever learned.

The hand not occupied with your nipples slid down, teasing over your waist, along your hip. Working closer and closer to the heat between your legs that was begging for your attention. But it never strayed that far, following the path over your thighs, scratching at the sensitive skin there and making you purr.

"So pretty," Chan mumbled, and you weren't sure if you were meant to hear. You probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for the fact that your ears were already straining for signs of his presence. You moaned quietly in return, letting your legs spread open and teasing your hand higher, tracing the seam where your thigh met your crotch, brushing ever so lightly against your lower lips. You huffed out a quiet breath at your own teasing. But you knew you had to work yourself up first or you'd be chasing an orgasm that wasn't interested in being caught.

Finally you let your fingers dip through the pool of arousal you'd worked up. You arched a little from the bed, a hiss of relief coming from your lips at finally getting some friction. You spread the wetness up to your clit, brushing against the bundle of nerves just a little before slipping your fingers lower again to gather more of it. You repeated the process until the movement was smooth, easy, and you were battling the urge to give in too quickly.

So you did, rubbing tight circles around your clit, a pretty sigh coming from your lips as you chased the feeling of your fingers, strumming the nerves just right. You heard the chair as Chan shifted, a stifled groan that you just knew it was because of him biting down on his lip.

You slid your other hand down, sliding a finger into your desperately empty hole and then another quickly after, unsatisfied with your own touch after giving in to Chan's so often. Once you were pushed even further into desperation by one finger, you added a second, scissoring yourself open for him and trying to push them even deeper. His fingers filled you up better, they could reach spots yours couldn't. You whined loud and very much not content with your situation.

"Channie, please. Can't do it myself." You pouted, opening your eyes to look at him. The sight in front of you was breathtaking, Chan sitting back with his shirt hiked up to show off the solid muscle of his stomach, and his pants pushed down just low enough for him to have pulled his cock out. His hand was wrapped firmly around the base and he was rock hard, the tip of his dick was a pretty, dark shade of pink and leaking precum that trailed down along the heavy vein that ran up his length. Your hips rocked upwards into your hand, wanting him inside of you so badly that it was downright painful. "Can't make myself cum. Please, need you to do it. Want it so bad."

He groaned, biting down on his lip in an attempt to keep his focus from faltering as he watched you fingering yourself. Your hand against your clit had stalled, just putting pressure on the nub as your hips rolled against your fingers. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, baby. Can't help, need to see how you do it. Gotta get it right." He said, brows furrowed in either concentration or pleasure, and you didn't try to figure out which it was because he was jerking himself off now, slow and steady in hard strokes. You needed to be the one wrapped around him, you needed to feel him fuck you just like that.

"Channie, I can't. Can't make myself cum as good as you can. Needs to be you, baby please. Please, it hurts. Just want you to fuck me, don't wanna try anymore. Need it to be you." You were on the verge of tears now, desperate and so worked up that you thought you might actually explode. You just needed him to take care of you. Besides, if he wanted to know what made you feel best, he'd have to be fucking you anyways. Nothing new that you could teach him.

You heard a stuttered moan, and he was squeezing the base of his cock so hard that you could only imagine it hurt.

"Can't say things like that, pretty." He muttered, already getting up and shedding his clothes like they burned him. "Beg so pretty for me, gotta take care of my baby. You tried so hard, didn't you? Just couldn't do it."

He climbed onto the bed and knocked your hand away from your dripping pussy. You quickly obliged, letting him take over. Two of his fingers dipped easily into your warmth, curling and twisting and making you moan his name so loud that you were sure to have a noise complaint in the morning. He hummed appreciatively.

"Feel better, baby? Giving you what you need?" He asked, and you shook your head, gripping at his wrist.

"Want your cock. Please, want you to fuck me. Fill me up." You said, giving him the most persuasive eyes that you could manage. He sighed out, eyes closing for a second and you could see them roll back under his eyelids, trying to keep himself in check. He always had the philosophy that you would cum at least once before he did, always the gentleman even when he was fucking you dumb. You were determined, it seemed, to test him on that today.

"So needy. Just for me. My greedy baby. Always need me to dick you down. Want me to breed you too, you always do." He was practically talking to himself as he lined himself up and slid into you. You whimpered, pure relief shocking through your body. You nodded, hands grabbing at his waist, tugging him closer and forcing his cock impossibly deep.

"Yeah, need your cock." You agreed quickly, already rocking up to meet his hips. Any coherent thought you'd had the entire time was gone now, just chasing the sweet feeling of his hips clashing against yours in hard, hurried thrusts as both of you lost your self control.

"Look how fucking perfectly you take it." His hands pushing your thighs up to your chest, exposing the way your pussy sucked him in for him to admire. "Gonna fill you up so good. Stuff you full of cum just the way you like it. My pretty baby. Come on, cum on my dick. I know you want it, been so good. Playing with yourself for Channie. So fucking-"

His words cut off abruptly as your walls clamped down around him hard enough to have his pace slowing. Your surprised cry hurt your throat as you came, juices gushing around him and wetting the bed underneath you. He didn't last a second longer, spilling inside of you and flicking at your clit to push you through the last few spasms of pleasure that rocked you.

"Can't believe it," He breathed out, hands moving to caress your quivering thighs. "You squirted. God, you're so perfect, didn't even know you could do that."

You giggled, body feeling warm and heavy and only grounded by the feeling of Chan touching you ever so gently. You blinked a few times, looking up at him and revelling in the look of pure amazement and adoration on his face.

"Didn't know I could do that either." You said. You watched him for a moment longer, the way he touched you like you were the most beautiful thing to ever grace his presence, and then he stopped.

"Gotta do it again, baby. Gotta learn how to make you do it every time. Gotta practice."

You whined at the thought, knowing how your boyfriend got when he set his mind to something. He was going to keep you up all night at this rate, and you'd be lucky if you didn't pass out by morning.

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