This Did Something To Me - Tumblr Posts
Let’s slowly make out while we see how many fingers I can curl up inside your pretty body
thinking about making my butch lie on their stomach in front of me while I have my legs spread, my pussy just inches away from their face, telling them to touch themself while they watch me, maybe if they beg I'll let them have a taste, watching them get more and more desperate for me...
"It's okay, you don't have to think now, baby, I'll do that for you, be a good butch for me and stick your tongue out, keep your mouth open. Oh, you're so good, aren't you? Just want to please me, huh? Come on, love, let me just grind on your face while you get yourself off for me, handsome"
Nathan Gombert - Ballet National de Marseille - photo by Aytekin Yalçın
welcome to hell ! may i offer you a seat?
The Call | ft. Bang Chan
Inspired by this.
— Rating; M for Mature
— Pairing; Bang Chan x Reader
— Warnings; crack fic LOL, no actual phone call, daddy kink, mentions of poly ot8 + reader, banter, brat!reader, this all could have been avoided if reader just called chan herself.
“Hey, can I use your phone to call mine? I can’t remember where I left it.”
“Yeah, sure,” you shrug, handing it over without much thought. “Changbin or Jisung didn’t know either?”
“Nah,” Chan answers, looking for his photo in your text threads. “Couldn’t ask ‘em because they’re out. Hope I didn’t leave it at the stu—“ he cuts off abruptly.
“What’s up?” you ask him, not looking up from your task. “Is there someone calling in?”
“Uhm,” he pauses, still staring at your phone screen. “Not exactly.”
“Okay?” you hum noncommittally, waiting for him to continue.
“Uh, what’s my contact in your phone?”
Instantly, the flames of a thousand suns engulf you; your whole life even flashes before your eyes. It’s an honest mistake, but one that has you staring at the wall wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. The only reasonable response is to stay silent, but you know he’ll ask again.
“Ah,” you say, nervous laughter following. “Christopher.”
The response you get is Chan settling your phone before you, screen up on your desk. A knobby finger is extended from his hand, pointing out your obvious lie. Chan’s sweet, dimpled smile stares back at you from the icon, at odds with the words that fill the space below it.
“No, haha — no. That does not say Christopher,” he accuses, like you don’t know that, like it’s not your phone in the first place.
You look at him for the first time since you handed over the device. It’s a little shocking to see him looking right back at you, a pretty, manicured eyebrow hiked up to his hairline in clear disbelief.
“Channie,” you answer with a questioning lilt. You can watch the way he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing with the motion.
“You’re unbelievable,” he snorts, shaking his head. “Open it up and read it to me, then.”
“Huh?!” you screech, eyes bulging out.
“You heard me. Open it up and read it,” he repeats, crossing his arms over his chest.
You hate that about him. Hate how he can flip the switch from being boyishly cute to sexily in command just like that. It’s rude, so rude, actually. You definitely want to fuck him about it. You want to let your physical actions show him why his name isn’t just “Christopher” in your contacts. Still, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t give him a hard time.
“And if I say no?”
A small huff of laughter rings out, the press of his tongue to the inside of his cheek making the flesh pop out. Of course, of course, Chan remembers. What once was a shy woman is now a bratty princess, remade by Chan’s own hands with the help of his seven other members. You used to be so shy and docile with them. That persona left you the moment you got comfortable and something more daring blossomed in its place. Chan likes that about you, loves it even, but right now he’s got a role to play.
“Well, then Daddy might have to make you.”
“Oh,” you say, nearly going limp in your seat.
Chan’s not really the forceful or punishing type — that’s more Minho’s realm — but it seemingly does the trick. You lick your lips at the thought of being forced to read it out, pussy clenching between your thighs. You’re a sucker for well displayed dominance; you’re also a sucker for a man who calls himself by his title. Clearly, Chan knows both of these things and uses them to his advantage.
“Yeah,” Chan coos, breathy and low. “There’s my good girl, hm? Now go on, do as you’re told, baby.”
You shiver, moving like you’re under a spell. You unlock your phone mindlessly, staring at the one thing that’s causing you so much distress. You glance at Chan again, blinking heavy eyes at him. He thinks you’re way too cute for your own good.
“Tell me what it says, baby. What’s my contact name?”
“B B C,” you start, feeling embarrassment grip your throat at the sound of your own voice, “Daddy.”
“Uh huh,” he nods, “and what does B B C stand for?”
“B-Big,” you choke, “Big Bang Cock.”
He laughs then, something warm and sultry. “You think it’s big?”
“Know it’s big,” you mumble, turning the phone face down on the desk. “You know that too.”
“Hm? Do I? Maybe you should remind me that you can take it, yeah? If it’s so big..” he trails, looking from you to your bed.
“I can take it,” you assure him, scrambling out of your seat so you can fumble your way to the bed. “I can take it so good.”
“And if you can’t?” Chan teases, following behind you.
It’s a risky question, knowing you, but Chan the thrill that comes with knowing you might sass back at him makes his dick incredibly hard. He can feel it twitch in agreement when he sees you grin, looking back at him over your shoulder.
“Then I guess Daddy might just have to make me.”
© hyungszn 2024; please do not copy, steal, repost, modify, translate, or recommend on any other platform without my permission!
I have thoughts about the pleasuredomaz and switchforgwyn agenda.
I think he’s eager to please and borderline obsessed with it, but still wants total control of the situation. He always goes the extra mile to make his partners feel good, but he’s never given control over to them.
Until Gwyn comes along.
And Gwyn is curious and thorough and intent on drawing a reaction out of him, as she is in everything she does. The control does feel good, and she still feels safe and secure and aware.
Every spot she discovers that makes him restless, she hones in on. Azriel is so used to exploiting others weaknesses against them (in both the hottest and cruelest way) and he’s never had someone else exploit his so slowly and irresistibly.
It’s a first for both of them in different ways.
And even though Azriel is tied up (with the ribbon, obvi) the shadows are up to their own mischief with Gwyn. They adore her and don’t want to be left out. They just want her to have the attention she deserves.
It’s a competition to see who breaks first, but really, neither of them want to win when the race feels so good and needs to be drawn out.
Of course Azriel will still take control occasionally. The feeling of his palms pressed firmly against her body, scars dragging on her sensitive skin, being completely pinned and covered by him but still feeling safe in the shadow of his embrace, his hips pressing hers firmly into the mattress, is too addictive for Gwyn to resist.
First I get a glimpse of the blonde plait down her back. Then, as she yanks off her coat to cover a wailing child, I notice the duck tail formed by her untucked shirt. I have the same reaction I did the day Effie Trinket called her name at the reaping. At least, I must go limp, because I find myself at the base of the flagpole, unable to account for the last few seconds. Then I am pushing through the crowd, just as I did before. Trying to shout her name above the roar. I'm almost there, almost to the barricade, when I think she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name.
And that's when the rest of the parachutes go off.
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
