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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 10 months

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💧 Tell me what you want, sweetheart. How many fingers, how fast… 💧

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader, Jeongin x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: Jeongin’s good instincts earn him a masterful lesson in fingering.

✎ CW: Established relationship, partner sharing, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, praise

✎ Word count: 3,936

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“……… y/n……. hello?”

The sound of your name snaps you back into reality, back to the dining room table in the dorm. Eyes shift toward the source of the noise to find Jeongin looking at you quizzically.

“Hellloooo… you there?” he asks, comically waving his big hand in the air.

“Yeah… sorry. Just zoned out,” you reply, but that’s a lie.

You had been aimlessly swirling your chopsticks around your bowl of ramen, trying to ignore the feeling of your boyfriend’s fingers traveling farther and farther up your thigh.

Chan had been craving you all day, he said, and he had every intention of having his way with you after dinner. But, apparently, that wasn’t soon enough.

Not long after he prepared two bowls of instant noodles and sat down to eat with you, his hand found your knee under the table. And he didn’t stop.

Not when you playfully brushed it away, not when Jeongin, Han and Changbin joined with their own quick dinners, and not even when you shot him that cautionary look when his thumb began making small circles over your kneecap and you forced your legs closed with all the strength you could muster. He was determined to keep you on edge, and he was doing a damn good job.

But, of course, he was unaffected. Just eating and chatting and laughing with the boys like it’s a normal evening. Like he wasn’t about to slide his long fingers under your shorts just out of view of the others.

And that was working fine for a bit, until everyone had nearly finished their food while yours was barely touched. Until one sharp inhale made it clear to at least one person that not everything was as it seemed.

“I said…. How was your day?” Jeongin repeats.

All eyes are on you now, and they seem to have varying degrees of understanding. Jeongin looks concerned, Changbin confused, and Han relatively clueless. And then there’s Chan and his big, brown eyes, gazing at you with a mix of encouragement and adoration.

“Oh, it was fine,” you answer in the calmest voice you can muster. “Work’s been busy, had a couple of long day-”

Your thought is cut short when Chan rotates his wrist and forces his fingers between your tightly closed thighs. His pinky extends to press against your underwear, and you can’t help but squirm in your seat.

“Uh, ahem. Sorry,” you restart, trying to recover with a fake cough and throat clear. “Just some long days at work. That’s all. Thank you for asking, Innie.”

The sweet smile you send his way seems to do nothing to lessen his concern. If anything, it just makes him more suspicious. Changbin and Han seem satisfied, though, and change the topic back to Hyunjin’s mistake during dance practice.

Chan’s hand travels higher and higher until he’s practically cupping you in his fingers. He rolls them from top to bottom, putting pressure on as much of you as he can from this angle. Then he adjusts again, sliding his pinky under the damp fabric, and you can’t take it another fucking second.

“Hey, I’m not feeling well,” you announce to the table. “I think I’m gonna go lie down.”

Chan’s hand returns to his lap and you stand up and turn on your heels before anyone can ask what’s wrong. You just make a beeline for your boyfriend’s bedroom, sent off by a chorus of “feel better!” and “sleep well!”

You plop down on the plush comforter and stare at the ceiling, trying to imagine what you’re in for tonight and telepathically tell him to hurry the fuck up. And it works, because his frame fills the doorway less than a minute later.

“Not feeling well, my angel?” he teases. “Is there anything I can do to make you better?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back playfully.

A sly smile spreads across his lips as Chan closes the door behind him and dims the lights before heading to the foot of the bed.

“You did so well out there, baby, staying quiet for me,” he praises. “Would you like your reward?”

He places his knees on either side of your legs and crawls onto the bed until he’s hovering above you. All you can do is sit and stare in awe of his big shoulders, his tense expression, his fiery eyes staring down at you.

The corners of his full lips pull into a smirk, and he lowers himself to your neck, gently kissing and sucking and biting the skin there.

“Mmmmm,” you moan, moving a hand to the back of his head to run the dark strands through your fingers.

“Do that again,” he mumbles against your skin. “Moan for me.”

One of his hands finds yours, interlacing your fingers and pressing into the bed, while the other slips under your shirt and grips you over your bra.

“Ohhh, hmmm,” you groan, melting into the bed at his touch.

He sighs and plants a final kiss on your neck before turning his attention to your lips. He closes your bottom lip between his plump, pink ones and holds it there for a few seconds, but it feels more like an eternity. You could stay like this forever, just surrounded by him. But a knock at the door cuts eternity short.

“Hey, y/n, Chan… everything ok?” Jeongin’s voice sounds from the hallway.

“Yeah, thank you for checking, Innie!” you yell back and wait to see if that’ll be enough to end his curiosity.

“No, something isn’t right… I can feel it. Can I come in?” he asks.

Chan sighs and looks back to you. An annoyed expression and a slight nod send him to the door knowing that this interruption is his fault and his alone.

“Hey, she’s ok I promise,” Chan says, standing in the doorway to block Jeongin’s entry but not hide the view of you on the bed. “Her stomach is just upset, that’s all.”

You push up on your elbows and smile at him, and he smiles back. But it doesn’t reach his dark eyes. He glances back and forth between you and Chan a few times before he speaks again.

“You two are up to something. What did you do, Chan?” he asks, squaring up to his hyung the best he can. The tense look on his face and broadening of his shoulders is enough to send you both into a laughing fit, and then there’s no choice left but to tell him the truth.

“Are you serious? That’s what that was?!” he exclaims. “I thought something was wrong. Jesus.”

He pauses for a second and can’t help but glance at the both of you, at Chan’s hand, at your thighs.

“You… you really did that with your fingers?” Jeongin whispers to Chan.

Your beautiful boyfriend throws his head back and laughs, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Truth be told, he could do that to you by simply existing, but his fingers… there’s something magical about them.

“Wow…” Innie mumbles. “You’ll have to teach me that sometime.”

“How about now?” Chan asks, glancing back at you for approval.

You smirk and nod in response. He knows you love a captivated — consenting — audience.

A rosy color spreads across the maknae’s cheeks, and he instinctively pulls his sweatshirt’s collar up to his nose in an attempt to hide.

“No, I couldn’t. That’s… this… no…” he declares, but he can’t keep his eyes away from your lower body for more than a few seconds, and an occasional twitch in his sweatpants makes it clear he’s not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Come here, I’ll show you,” Chan says, grabbing Innie by the arm and pulling him over to the bed. “You don’t have to touch if you want. Just watch what I do.”

Chan plops down comfortably on the edge between your legs, and Jeongin awkwardly sits on the corner of the mattress.

“It’s mostly about pressure, yeah? Depending on where you are, do you want to massage…” Chan explains, wrapping his fingers around and gently rubbing your ankle. “…or do you want to tease…”

He loosens his grip and drags his fingertips up your shin, to your knee, and back down, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. You thrust upward just a little, yearning for that same touch between your legs.

Chan smiles as you squirm, enjoying his teacher role already. Jeongin’s watching his hyung’s fingertips with intensity, and next thing you know, he’s testing his skills on your other leg.

“Like this?” Innie asks, placing both hands on your sock-clad foot and using his thumbs to massage the base through the cotton. Fingertips drag to your ankle and hook around the sock’s cuff, rolling it down and over your toes and off.

He applies pressure to different spots on the base of your foot, watching your face to see how it feels. Once he passes your heel, he puts his palms to work, too, dragging his big hands up and down the sides of your calf.

“Yeah, nice,” Chan says, smiling approvingly before turning his attention back to you. “You like that, baby?”

“Hmmm….”

It would be hard to not enjoy four hands caressing your legs, but something about Jeongin’s fingers elevates the feeling. Like his big hands could do so much damage, but instead, they’re caressing you gently. And all you can think about is how he could wreck you in so many ways…

You snap back to reality as your boyfriend lifts the hem of your T-shirt to slide his hand up and rub your stomach. Even with everything else going on, his eyes are glued to yours, and that sweet smile is still aimed at you.

“Good so far, sweetheart?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you reply softly between sharp breaths. “You ok?”

“Of course, as long as you’re happy,” Chan replies, then turns to Innie. “Ready for the next step?”

Jeongin doesn’t answer immediately. Honestly, he probably didn’t even hear Chan. He’s staring at your legs so intensely, almost in wonder.

“Oi, Jeongin,” Chan repeats, snapping the fingers of his free hand.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, yeah,” the younger boy answers, shaking his head softly. “What do I do?”

“Go higher,” Chan says matter-of-factly, like this really is just a lesson and you’re the study participant — and Jeongin is his most eager student.

The maknae immediately wraps a hand around your inner thigh, down toward your knee. At Chan’s instruction — an encouraging nod is all he needs — Innie slides his warm hand up and up. Slowly, gently.

The unfamiliar touch has you instinctively pulling your legs closed, but Chan’s comforting touch on your stomach keeps you relaxed. His palm is pressed flat, and his fingers make small circles on your soft skin. His other hand replicates Jeongin’s path and gently squeezes the flesh of your inner thigh.

“Hmm.”

A deep hum vibrates from Innie’s throat, and his hungry eyes are trained on the wet spot on your shorts.

You’ve always wondered if other people can smell your arousal. Chan jokes that he can — “It’s the wolf in me, what can I say?” — but he’s generally full of shit. Regardless of whether or not he can smell it, Jeongin can certainly see it. And the way he’s licking his lips has you convinced he wants to taste it, too.

“Go ahead, Innie,” you say reassuringly. “Touch me, it’s ok.”

And then he does. His fingers slide under your shorts and roughly press into your panties. His sudden movements startle all three of you, and Jeongin’s face burns bright red in embarrassment and he pulls his fingers back into his lap.

“A little too quick,” Chan explains. “Something like that is fine if you’re going hot and heavy, yeah? But for something like this…”

Your boyfriend’s hand presses into your thigh and inches up until his fingertips reach the fabric of your shorts. He runs the damp material between his fingers and lightly bites his lip before speaking again.

“… you want to go slowly. Gentle and loving. Maybe a little teasing,” he says with a wink. “That’s what she likes, anyway. Don’t you baby?”

“I just tolerate it because he enjoys being an ass,” you say to Jeongin, who’s still sitting there with his fingers pressed into his thighs.

“Naur, you love it,” Chan teases back. “You love when I play with you.”

He slides your shorts to the side, just like he did earlier tonight. His thumb slowly runs up and down your folds through your underwear while his other hand resumes its circles on your stomach.

“You love when I do this for you,” he continues. “And I love doing it…”

His thumb presses into you deeper through the soaked cotton. Once the fabric can’t stretch anymore, he pulls back out and feels for your clit. He finds the spot and applies just enough pressure to make you squirm.

“That’s my girl,” Chan hums.

His gaze hasn’t left your face. It’s like he forgot someone else is there at all. Like it’s only you two on the bed, business as usual.

Your boyfriend hooks his thumb under your panties and moves them to the side to touch you. He runs his thumb down the length of your opening, parting your lips to feel inside of you where he can.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Chan whispers. “How many fingers, how fast.”

The hand on your stomach moves to your cheek and caresses it softly. He shifts his weight on the bed so his face can follow, too. Chan sweetly kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your lips.

“You have me in the palm of your hand, baby. I’ll do whatever you say.”

He breathes into your mouth, his lips only inches from yours when he speaks. You’d love to answer him, but your brain’s all fuzzy and your tongue wants to taste his teeth.

Hands go to his neck to keep him close while your lips press into his. He somehow knows exactly what you want — he always does — and parts his lips for you. Your tongue runs along the backside of his teeth, then the front, before you close his top lip between your teeth. His tongue joins yours then, and you spend what feels like forever just savoring each other and pouring every ounce of affection into each kiss.

Eventually, he pulls away with a smile spread across his swollen lips. He beams down at you, then turns to Jeongin.

“So, like I said…” he starts. “For something like this, you want to be soft, romantic. Listen to your partner’s body, and do what they like.”

Chan resumes his vertical strokes between your legs and faces you again.

“Most of it is about the buildup, right honey? I haven’t even stuck a finger in you yet.”

“He’s right,” you answer. “He always says such pretty words, sometimes I finish before we even get started.”

Chan smiles wide at your compliment.

“So, we’ve covered foreplay. Now, let’s get to fingering,” Chan says, slipping right back into his insightful teacher role. He lightly tugs on your shorts and continues: “Baby, do you mind?”

“Nope, go ahead.”

“Ok, lift up for me.”

He gently slides your shorts and underwear down your legs and tosses them to the floor. One hand gently rests on your upper thigh while the other settles on your lower abdomen.

“Before you do anything else here, you want to make sure she’s wet enough,” Chan explains. “If you did the first part right, you should be fine, but it’s important to check before doing anything too quickly or roughly.”

Your boyfriend positions a finger at your entrance and looks at you.

“Ready?”

“Mhm,” you reply softly.

One long, bony finger gently slides inside of you and traces circles around your walls.

“This isn’t a great example because she gets really wet — you saw her shorts,” Chan says with a soft chuckle. “But this is a good way to check and see what she’s ready for. Here, you try.”

Chan removes his finger and gestures for Jeongin to use his instead.

“You sure?” he asks nervously. “I don’t wanna…”

“You won’t fuck it up. You didn’t fuck it up last time either,” you speak softly. “How else are you gonna learn, Innie?”

“Ok…”

He speaks hesitantly, but his finger is inside you within seconds. His are even longer than Chan’s and how deep he can reach with minimum effort comes as a surprise, but a good one this time.

You inhale deeply and close your eyes as Jeongin starts to move that finger in and out slowly.

“Good, now go in a circle. That’ll help you gauge how much more you can stretch her right now,” Chan instructs.

Innie does as he’s told and a smirk spreads across his lips.

“I think she’s ready for another,” he says.

“Go ahead then,” Chan urges.

Another long finger slides inside you, and he keeps them pressed together as he moves in and out. A minute or two passes with the same motion, and Chan must see the blank expression on your face, so he offers to help.

“So, now it’s about the technique,” he says, placing a hand on Jeongin’s wrist. “You want to rotate your hand and use your fingers to reach the good spots.”

“The good spots?” Jeongin asks.

“That varies by person, unfortunately,” Chan answers. “Just have to mess around and practice on your partner ‘til you figure out their weaknesses. For example…”

Chan tightens his grip on Innie’s wrist and pulls his hand back a little.

“Bend your fingers,” he instructs.

The younger boy’s fingers are so long, he can’t help but stretch your walls apart when he bends them inside you.

“Ok, now keep them like that…”

Chan slowly directs Jeongin’s fingers forward and back, keeping an eye on your face to determine when he — or Innie, more like — is close. And when you take a soft, sharp breath in, he knows he’s got you.

“And now we add a little rotation…”

He pushes and pulls and twists Innie’s wrist like he’s playing the world’s most gentle round of Bop It.

“Oh…”

That one breathy word brings a huge smile to your boyfriend’s face.

“There, you got it,” he says to Innie, continuing to work his friend’s wrist to make you moan and sigh.

“And when you get more acquainted with their… uh… anatomy, you can target it more,” Chan continues. “May I…?”

He releases his hold on Innie’s wrist and patiently waits his turn. Jeongin slides his fingers out and sits them in his lap delicately, like he’s not sure what to do with them now that they’re covered in you. But you’re not too worried about that, because Chan’s fingers are back inside you now, and he’s rubbing and applying perfect pressure to that spot…

“Oh fuck…” you moan a little louder this time, and he just continues with a determined look on his face.

“I can get her to finish like this, or I could toss in some other techniques…” Chan muses, then pushes down gently on the stubbled skin above your pubic bone. “This increases pressure inside, making her feel more… full, I guess? Is that right, baby?”

“Ahuh, sure,” you answer quickly between sharp breaths.

Your eyes are mostly closed, but you can still see Chan’s confident smirk and watch Innie slowly slide his wet fingers into his mouth when he thinks you’re not looking. Something to tease him for later.

“And, of course,” Chan says, “don’t forget about her clit.”

He adds a third finger and rotates his hand so his palm is at an angle. He places his thumb on your most sensitive area and adjusts so he can press on the little nub directly.

“If you want to keep pressure here, you can’t pull out as far,” he explains. “That’s when you really focus on massaging her g-spot so you can keep your hand steady on her clit.”

He demonstrates with the same level of determination he showed earlier, even biting his lip this time. Jeongin is absolutely entranced next to him.

“And if you’re ready for the grand finale, and you’re comfortable with it, a little dirty talk never hurt anyone…” Chan trails off as he lowers his head down to yours once again, lips pressing softly against the edge of your ear.

“Gonna come for me, baby?” he whispers so only you can hear and increases the pace of his little circles and thrusts.

Your simple “y-yes” is barely audible and sandwiched between moans.

“I love your little sounds. You make the most beautiful noises for me, baby,” he hums as he gently bites your earlobe. “I can’t wait to make you scream later.”

“Chan… I…” you barely manage to utter and open your eyes to signal to your boyfriend that you’re almost there.

And just past him, looking entirely enthralled, sits Jeongin. His hand is gently rubbing your calf again, but you see it before you feel it. It’s like every nerve in your body relocated to between your thighs, and they’re all ticking time bombs.

“I know you’re close, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. Such a good girl for me, baby,” Chan praises as he continues his work and uses his free hand to stroke your hair. “Come for me.”

And you do. Gently, but loudly. Your body manages to remain still for the most part, but your chest rises and falls erratically while your moans and sighs fight for release against your lungs that desperately need oxygen.

You grip a handful of Chan’s hair and pull, and he just giggles and lets you guide his head to your chest. He listens to your heart pound with a sweet smile on his face as you ride this out.

The high doesn’t last too long, and aside from a tiny ringing in your ears, you’re back to normal in under 30 seconds. You open your eyes again to see the two of them staring down at you before Chan turns his attention to Jeongin.

“So, there you have it. Any questions?”

The younger boy looks like he’s doing math in his pretty head as he speaks: “… no, not right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at his bewilderment. It’s like he just saw a magic trick.

“Well, if you don’t mind then,” Chan says, facing you again. “I’m about to start my masterclass, so…”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Jeongin answers, snapping out of the trance and standing up from the edge of the bed. “Thank you, thank you both.”

He turns and heads for the door as your boyfriend leans down to kiss your lips and pull the comforter up over you. The two of them meet where the bedroom becomes the hallway and Chan opens the door.

“Let me know if you have any questions after you… practice,” he says with an exaggerated wink.

“Oh, I will,” Innie replies and steps into the hallway. As he heads back to the common space, Chan swears he hears him mumble, “Seungmin’s gonna lose his mind…”

Your boyfriend slowly closes and locks the bedroom door and pads back toward the bed.

“I think our little lesson is about to become big news,” Chan says as he slides into bed next to you.

“Honestly, that’s fine,” you answer sweetly. “I’m sure whoever they sleep with will thank us later.”

Chan shifts to lie on his side and wraps an arm around your waist. He smiles widely at you, displaying those gorgeous dimples.

“Guess we should practice our material for the next class then, yeah?” he whispers as he slides his hand down once again.

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 11 months

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PART 2: 🚪 What’s wrong with a little privacy, huh? 🚪

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: Your boyfriend takes you out to a nice restaurant, but you end up eating something not on the menu.

✎ CW: Oral sex, hand job, masturbation, kissing, public diddly-dooing, food play

✎ Word count: 2,666 😈

✩ A/N: Part 1: What’s wrong with a little privacy, huh? ✩

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The door swings open slowly, and the waiter appears, balancing a tray of shellfish in his hands. It takes a few seconds to see you, to register what he’s actually looking at: you jumping up out of Chan’s lap to stand next to his chair, face absolutely red as a cherry tomato.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the waiter says, turning his eyes to the floor as he brings the tray to the table.

“No, I’m so sorry. We got carried away… this is entirely our fault I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely.

Chan can’t speak, nor can he wipe that stupid grin off his stupidly cute face.

“Honestly, ma’am, it’s not the worst thing I’ve walked in on…” the waiter says as he places the tray in the middle of the table. “We made signs in case things like this happen, in case people want to use this room for… more. I’ll put one on the door.”

He nods respectfully and disappears once again, shutting the door behind him. Your eyes meet Chan’s once you’re alone again, and your reactions couldn’t be more different.

While you fight every urge to melt into a puddle, your boyfriend bursts out laughing. The embarrassment you feel is unfortunately nothing compared to the sheer love and adoration you have for this goofy man and his breathy, squeaky laugh.

“We’re gonna get banned, you know,” you scold.

“Naur, he said this happens. We get a sign!” he says cheekily, standing and holding your face in his palms. “Our very own sign, sweetheart.”

“Oh god…” you sigh and bury your face in his chest, hoping if you push hard enough you can just bust through his ribs and live inside his torso and escape this awkward hell.

“Hey… it’s ok,” he comforts you, rubbing the back of your head. “On the bright side, now we can really get into it.”

Your head snaps back up.

“You… you cannot be serious,” you say incredulously.

“What? We have a sign now,” he reasons, rubbing your back. “We have to do something worthy of the sign.”

“You’re absolutely insatiable,” you say, lightly pushing off of his chest to return to your seat.

“Here, allow me,” he says, rushing to the back of your chair to move it closer to the table.

“No, you’re not a gentleman anymore, you can’t fool me.”

Chan places his hands on your shoulders and leans down to put his lips right next to your ear.

“Well, I may not be gentle,” he croons, “but I am your man.”

After the last word, his soft, wet lips meet your cheek and apply gentle pressure before disappearing again so he can rejoin you at the table, like civilized diners. He sits and smiles at you as he unrolls his napkin and turns his attention to the steaming tray of shellfish.

You pick up a clam and use a small fork to loosen it from its shell before sliding it into your mouth, and Chan does the same.

“How is it?” you ask as he chews.

“Really good, needs a little more salt, though,” he answers.

“Agreed,” you echo, reaching for the salt shaker between your plates, but his hand lands there first.

“Hold on,” he says, keeping his long fingers between you and the salt. “I kinda wanna try something.”

“What would that be?”

“How about a… different kind of… sauce?” he says, cheeks reddening more than you’ve ever seen and trying his best to hold back a giggle.

You raise one brow at him, waiting for him to elaborate on whatever ridiculous scheme he’s cooking up, but he just smirks at you.

“I’m not asking the waiter for extra shit after that…” you start.

“…nonono. I mean…” he sighs. “Do you really need me to specify?”

Your unwavering gaze screams yes.

“What if I add… a little taste of… Australia?” he says sheepishly. “You know…”

You completely lose control the moment realization hits, and you can’t contain your laughter.

“Chan… you want to… come in an oyster? Is that what you’re telling me right now?” you ask, barely getting the words out between deep breaths and long chuckles.

His pretty lips turn down into a frown.

“Hey… don’t laugh. I was trying to be… kind of sexy…” he says, voice dropping off at the end.

“Hey, it is. Kind of. It’s also incredibly silly,” you clarify, but one look at his embarrassed expression has you changing your tune.

“But…” you sigh. “I’m down.”

His gaze is still aimed down at his plate, but he perks up a little.

“Really? I mean, I know it’s silly, but…” he pauses and slowly runs his eyes up your chest, your neck, to land on your lips. “It would be kind of hot… watching you eat it…”

His lustful eyes plead with your mouth, like if he just stared enough he could get his come on your tongue. And at that moment, there’s nothing you want more than to give him what he wants.

“Well…” you start, picking up a larger oyster. “You said it needed more salt. Why don’t you help me out, then?”

You extend your arm across the table, offering the shellfish to him. He hesitantly reaches for it, but you can see the smile growing.

“My pleasure,” he finally says with a devilish grin. “Hold on…”

He gently takes the oyster from your hand and floats it over his plate, over the edge of the table, and down into his lap.

You interlace your fingers and place them under your chin, propping yourself up on the table with your elbows. Just watching him.

He fumbles for a bit, then looks back up at you.

“I don’t want to overwhelm your tastebuds, so I’ll start light,” he decides. “Just the appetizer version to sample, yeah?”

You hum in response, hypnotized by the way his shoulders and biceps flex and move. He reaches under the table and squeezes your knee before speaking again.

“Ok, here I go.”

You can’t see his hand work, but you’ve watched him enough to picture exactly what he’s doing out of view.

He’ll tightly grip his cockhead — not wasting time with the touching and teasing you enjoy when you’re at the helm — and he’ll stroke quickly. He’s much more no-nonsense, especially when the events that will follow are even more exciting than the sensation itself.

His bottom lip disappears between his teeth as his forearm moves up and down just enough to lure some of this… sauce… to the surface. But his eyes stay on your face — on your lips — as the rest of him shakes slightly.

“Almost…” he moans softly. “Just need… a little.”

Once he’s gathered an acceptable amount of precum in the shell, he stops and lifts it back above the table, and holds it above his plate. His dark eyes are glued to your lips, and his chest rises and falls gently.

“Well… what are you waiting for?” you ask, hand outstretched across the table. “Give it here.”

He hesitates, just for a second, then drops the oyster in your palm.

“I hope it tastes all right,” he says mischievously.

You lift the shell to your lips and tilt your head back, letting the oyster and the sauce slide onto your tongue. It sits there for a few seconds, the flavors sinking into your tastebuds.

“Sooooo, tell me,” Chan urges. “How is it? Enough salt?”

One eyebrow raises as you purse your lips and stare. Leaving him in suspense for a few more seconds can’t hurt. But then he tilts his head a little to the left and pleads with those pretty eyes, and you know you lost.

“Honestly?” you ask, and he quickly nods. “Not salty enough. I think you can do better.”

One side of his mouth pulls up and reveals that cute dimple. You knew this would get him; he can��t resist a challenge.

“Fine, give me another,” he says, reaching toward the tray, but you grab his wrist before his fingers touch a shell.

“No, let me.”

You slowly push your chair back and slide down, knees softly hitting the floor. Your hands touch the cool tile next as you begin to crawl under the table.

“Maybe we just need a better chef for this…” you purr. “Someone with more… delicate hands.”

Cold fingers surround his warm cock, and you let the rush of blood beneath his skin return your hand to a normal temperature before moving it up and down, up and down.

His head falls back and his big hands grip the armrests as you settle on your knees just in front of his chair. His legs part as wide as the chair will allow for you, for your hand, your lips…

You decide against teasing him more this time and just give him what he wants instead. After all, it’s what you want, too. And judging by the taste of his precum, you’re in for a treat.

One hand works slowly near the base while you close your lips around him. It’s gentle at first, like if you squeeze or suck too hard you might break him. And you’d hate to spill his metaphorical salt and bring on bad luck — the devil may appear over your shoulder, convincing you to do dirty things, evil things. But that does sound like fun…

You suck harder now, hollowing out your cheeks to apply wet pressure on all sides of him. And you take him in so deeply, just a little deeper with each bob of your head. Giving him more of you, more of your throat. But it’s not enough, because his hand is in your hair, pushing you further down into his lap.

“Ohhhhh my god,” he breathes, trying his best to stay relatively quiet. “Jesus christ…”

His fingers interlace with the long strands at the back of your skull, pulling you up and down at a comfortable pace. He’s not worried about speed, he just wants to feel all of you.

He wants to go as far into you as he can — and then some. Feel the pressure from your lips and your cheeks and your tongue and the small gap at the back of your mouth and the tight ridges at the top of your throat. He loves this, and he’s so fucking lucky you don’t have a strong gag reflex.

“Baby doll…” he trails off as he slowly fucks your mouth. “You feel amazing, oh my girl, my beautiful… ohhh…”

His hips slide forward in the chair, and his thighs start to quake. He’s close.

You slide your unoccupied hand over his legs and up between his torso and the table, keeping your palm open like you’re asking him to hand you something. He grabs your hand to hold it, though, and his touch is sweet and wonderful, but it’s not what you need right now.

“What?” he laughs as you shake him off. “What do you need, baby?”

You close your fingers and thumb together and open them slowly, trying to imitate the opening of a shell. He hands you a napkin, and you throw it back on the table. He tries a small plate next, and you do your best to place that one down gently.

“I don’t know what to give you, honey,” he sighs.

You try your best shellfish impression again, and he’s silent for a few seconds, then…

“OH!”

An oyster gently lands in your palm, and you pull it back down under the table. Chan chuckles to himself and you get back to work right as a knock sounds at the door.

“Everything ok in there, sir? Can I get you two anything?” the waiter asks.

“Uh, no, we’re fine! T-thank you!” Chan calls out, his voice surprisingly steady given the circumstance.

Footsteps recede down the hallway, and Chan speaks again in a hushed voice.

“You almost got us in trouble again.”

You pull back from his cock to defend yourself.

“No, that’s you and your big ass mouth,” you tease. “I know I feel amazing, but have some self-control.”

His soft laugh quickly turns into a breathy moan as you take him back into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat a few times before you switch to targeting his most sensitive spots.

One hand grips his base while the other cups his balls, and his hands are gripping the arms of his chair for dear life. Your tongue runs up and down his shaft, breaking the rhythm every now and then to circle his tip or press into his slit.

“Close, b-baby,” he whines. “G-get ready.”

Tongue laid flat across your bottom lip, you press into the underside of his head to wait for your treat. The oyster is nearby, too, ready to catch a little bit for itself.

He doesn’t make it easy, though. Chan comes in strong waves, the first shooting straight back into your throat, the next weakly rolling down your tongue and onto your chest, the third landing safely on the back of your tongue.

You move the oyster into the stream for a second or two, just long enough to get some flavor. The rest is yours to savor on its own.

The bitterness hits your tongue first, but the longer it swirls and lingers on your tastebuds, you get the sweet and tangy notes. You could drink an entire glass of him.

“Fuck…”

You push his chair back and crawl forward enough to stand without hitting your head. His eyes find your face for the first time since you crawled under the table, and his lips pull into a wide smile.

“Oh god,” he giggles. “You look, uh.”

Your hand goes to your hair — the tangled mess that was once your nice date night hair. And you can feel the sticky warmth on your lips, your chin, your chest. You must look ruined.

“Well, let’s see if it was worth it,” you chirp, leaning back to sit on the edge of the table and slip the oyster into your mouth.

Your eyebrows pull down as you assess the flavors. Salty is more than covered this time, and that tangy sweetness complements the shellfish perfectly. It’s surprisingly actually really good. But you can’t let him off that easily.

“Hmmmmm,” you muse, staring up and off into the corner of the room. But you sneak a glance at his face — his sweet, anxious, expectant face — and those warm, loving eyes, and you can feel yourself losing the battle once again.

“Please, how is it?” he asks, almost pleadingly. His chest still rises and falls and his neck glistens with a few drops of sweat in the most beautiful way. Who are you kidding? You can’t resist him.

“Honestly, baby? It’s pretty fucking good,” you admit.

Somehow, his smile gets even wider, and he pulls you into his lap again. His gorgeous eyes stare into yours in the sweetest mix of love and pride as he pulls you close for a gentle kiss. Noses still touching afterward, he speaks.

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel good, are you?”

“I thought I already did that,” you quip and reattach your lips.

He smiles into the kiss and tightens his hold around your waist, and then there’s another knock at the door.

“Hello again, just checking in,” the waiter says from the hallway.

Chan looks up at you with nothing but joy and adoration in his eyes when he yells, “Actually, we’re gonna make out for the next half hour, so if you could come back after, that would be great.”

“Of course sir, I’ll set a timer,” the waiter says, and you think you can hear him laugh.

“Guess we have a half hour then,” you tease, physically unable to hold back your smile.

“Better make the most of it,” he replies, pulling you impossibly close for yet another mind-blowing kiss.

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

🏷️ @drhsthl @3rachasninja @channieand08 @ikykleeknowww @anjian3 @tooskathepiratefromshield @channiesbabygirl 🏷️

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

☾♥✧♫✧☁ TITLE MASTERLIST ☁✧♫✧♥☽ Prefer by description?

Smut:

I couldn’t wait to get home to you, touch you, tease you 💋

I hope you don’t mind those panties being torn to absolute shreds 🐺

Please, I’m begging. Just let me touch you ⛓️

That was so hot… but don’t you dare do that again ✌🏻

I didn’t say you could finish yet, did I 🕹️

Guess I’ll have to find something else to do with my mouth 🥃

Suddenly, there’s nothing in this world you’d want more than to please him ☁️

Keep going, baby… I’m sure you’re hungry 🎂

You’re nothing more than our little plaything now, got it? 🪢

So you can feel me even when I’m not there 🍆

I wish I could’ve been sweet, but you made me do this 🎱

Fluffy smut:

Sweetheart, having a big nose isn’t a bad thing. In fact, most people prefer it 🌛

Lie back, love. Let daddy take care of you 🫦

I’ve never wanted anything as much as you. And right now, I want to make you feel good 📺

I can’t stop thinking about tasting your skin💧

What’s wrong with a little privacy, huh? Part 1, Part 2 🚪

Fluff:

Hold me in your arms 🌸

Goodnight, my love, my world 🌏

Chan x You - Partner Sharing Series:

Hyunjin - Actually, I’m feeling rather inspired, Hyunjin 🎨

Changbin - I’d love to make you scream for me, too 💪🏻

Jeongin - Tell me what you want, sweetheart. How many fingers, how fast💧

Weird poetic bullshit:

All at once 🪴

#masterlist #skz fic #bangchan fic #stray kids fic #bang chan smut #bang chan fluffy smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan oneshot #stray kids imagines #stray kids x you #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan x reader #bangchan x you #bangchan x reader

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

🎱 I wish I could’ve been sweet, but you made me do this… 🎱

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: A game of pool quickly became something else, and now you have to deal with the consequences.

✎ CW: Bondage/restraint, biting, blood, a little touch of consensual non-consent, another touch of predator/prey, fingering, unprotected sex, (rough) nipple play

✎ Word count: 2,126

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

“I told you…” he begins.

The room is silent again, except for soft thumps of dress shoes on hardwood, plastic ceiling fan blades slicing air, and deep, unsteady exhales.

“I told you what would happen if you talked back to me, didn’t I?” Chan asks.

His big hands are tucked away in his pockets as he circles the pool table. He walks slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes on the floor. He hasn’t looked at you in minutes.

“But you… and that mouth,” he says, stopping at the end of the table to roughly plant his hands on the wood. “That fucking mouth of yours…”

Murky eyes stare directly into yours now. But they’re not his usual syrupy brown, no, they’re almost completely black. And the way his upper lip twitches is different, too. He’s angry, and he’s hungry for something dark.

He places a knee on the table and hoists his body up, moving his hands forward onto the felt. Then he’s on all fours, slowly crawling toward you, bound and gagged at the center of it all.

Pool balls surround you, and he’s careful not to let them get in his way. When he finally reaches you, he leans in close, letting his hot breath coat your cheek.

“The rules were very simple,” he hisses. “Be good, and you’d get rewarded.”

He lowers his big, pink lips to your neck and kisses gently.

“But, be a bad girl…” he hums into your skin. “And you’d be punished. Isn’t that right?”

Your “yes” is muffled by the ball gag, but it’s clear enough.

“So… what punishment do you deserve for talking back to me? For not showing me one of your pretty tits when I asked you to… when I told you to?”

His big fingers lightly wrap around your neck before traveling down, down to your chest, where he fiddles with the cup of your bra.

“Well, I think I definitely get to see them now. Maybe even pinch, maybe even bite a little… don’t you think?”

The moan that travels up your throat is born from a mix of excitement and fear.

He reaches behind you to undo the clasp, then uses the available slack to lift the bra up and over your head so the cups rest on your back. Your arms are tied from the elbow down, so there’s no hope to remove the garment completely.

“Ahhhh,” he breathes, marveling at the newly exposed flesh in front of him before gripping one nipple between finger and thumb. “So perky, so hard…”

He twists the raised nub with the pads of his fingers slowly, keeping his lips on your neck and sucking gently at first. But then they pull back and teeth pinch the thin skin, drawing a soft grunt from behind your lips.

“What was that, princess?” he asks. “Want me to bite you more?”

Your tiny yelp could signal yes or no, but you aren’t entirely sure which. And he doesn’t seem to care one way or the other.

“Bite your tits? Oh, I can definitely do that.”

And before you can even make a sound, his teeth close on the skin above your nipple, biting hard enough to leave a mark. Then he shifts to the left and does it again, but even harder this time.

He pinches and pulls at the nipple still between his fingers as his mouth finds the other, first circling it with his tongue before baring his teeth once more and biting down roughly.

Another groan is stifled by the gag, and you can do nothing to help or hurt the situation except pull at the shirt wrapped around your arms.

“Mmmm,” he moans around your breast. “You taste so good. Let’s see if I can make you bleed.”

He bites again, then again, then again, before you hear a tiny crunch and feel a sharp sting.

“There we go…”

Just a few drops of blood seem to satiate him because he sits back and releases his hold on you completely.

“Oh, my love,” he says and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before rubbing his thumb back and forth on your cheek. “I wish I could’ve been sweet. But you made me do this…”

He rotates you so he can untie your arms, but you’re not completely free from your restraints just yet.

“Arms up.”

You lift your arms over your head, and he wraps the shirt around your forearms once again. There’s barely time to take another breath before his hand drops to grip your neck tightly, and he forces you onto your back. Billiard balls don’t allow you to lie flat, but that doesn’t stop him from pressing you into the table.

“Comfortable?” he sneers, but he knows you’re not. He knows your face, and the lowered brows, wrinkled nose, and tightly closed eyes are more than enough for him to interpret.

“Here… let me help.”

He reaches beneath your back and grabs a ball, the black 8, and holds it above your face.

“Hmmm, but what do we do with this now?” he asks himself. “We have to put it down somewhere, don’t we?”

The cold ball touches your chest right as his voice cuts off. Guided by his firm hand, it rolls over your ribs and up the mounds and back down again, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

He hums and sighs as he directs that ball around and down, past your stomach and your hips to your thighs, before coming back up again and following the same path down. Like a pendulum swinging back and forth but shortening its distance on each trip. Just biding time until it finally settles at its equilibrium.

“I wonder if I could fit this inside you,” he wonders aloud, his eyes filled with curiosity and mischief staring at your bare skin.

Chan places the ball safely on your stomach before spreading your legs and inserting a finger, then two, then three.

“Hmmm, already so wet, so ready. If only I could bury my cock in you instead…”

He adds a fourth finger and spreads them, seeing just how far you’ll stretch for him. The wicked grin that spreads across his lips just then must mean something good.

“Oh, we could definitely get this in you,” he muses. “Tuck this right up inside your tight pussy. Would you like that?”

You only stare blankly in response, unsure if you would or not. Probably… but…

“But that wouldn’t be much fun once it’s in,” he decides. “We need something to…”

He roughly pumps all four fingers in and out in time with his words.

“Make. You. Whine.”

Just then, something behind you seems to catch his attention, and his eyes start to glow in the light. He hops off the table and quickly returns to your side, pool stick in hand.

Your eyes widen once you realize what it’s for, and every single muscle tenses in fear. You mumble incoherently, forgetting the safe word in the heat of the moment. But it’s enough, because Chan’s excited expression immediately turns to pure panic.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, holding your cheek in one hand and undoing the gag with the other. “I would never hurt you, you know that, right?”

The gag falls to the table and is quickly replaced by his mouth. He wets your chapped lips with his tongue and kisses gently before pulling back.

“I love you. We don’t have to do that, okay?” he whispers. “Do you still want to…?”

You nod slightly, and he smiles and kisses your nose. Chan drops the cue stick on the ground and sweetly kisses your hair before unbuttoning his slacks and dropping them and his boxers to the floor.

He climbs back onto the table and settles on his knees. His hands work at untying the knot around your arms, then he places his hands on either side of your head.

“Maybe you’ve endured enough, yeah?” he says, stroking your hair. “Maybe it’s time for me to just… adore you.”

He lifts your back and scatters the balls so you can rest comfortably. Then his fingers gently run along your side — soft enough to tease, but hard enough to avoid making you ticklish.

It’s been so long since you felt his loving touch, and you can’t help but moan softly. He takes those sighs as cues for where to apply more pressure as he goes, though he knows exactly where to head.

Two fingers enter you gently, and he exhales between lips spread into a pleased grin.

“Oh, my girl…” he whispers. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

His crooked fingers leave as fast as they came and grip your ass instead, lifting your hips off the table. The balls of your feet instinctually find the felt and prop up your lower body while he positions himself between your thighs.

“Ready?” he asks, his leaking cock less than an inch away from where you need it the most.

You nod and look down to watch as he slides in. His eyes squeeze shut as more and more of him disappears inside you.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Oh, oh my…”

His grip on your hips tightens as his pace increases, faster and faster, until he’s pounding in and out of you so quickly you can barely catch your breath between strokes.

He angles your hips up just a little more to hit that perfect spot with every thrust, and you can’t help it. Your thighs start to quiver, making your whole body unsteady. Chan may be strong, but even he’s struggling to maintain a decent pace and keep you still.

“I’m… gonna… flip you… ok?” he exhales between strokes.

And then he does — with unexpected ease. He rotates your hips and holds you upright until you can support yourself on your hands and knees, then he sinks into you again.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is even louder from this angle, loud enough to drown out both of your moans. And though you can’t hear him, you know he is.

You can feel his groans and sighs as they vibrate from his throat, through his chest, down his arms. Like the energy transfers from his fingertips to your hips, igniting fire in your veins.

“Chan… nie…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Gonna…”

“You close?” he breathes, barely getting the words out. “Hold on.”

He pulls out and flips you onto your back again.

“I wanna… see you,” he explains between shaky inhales. “You’re so… beautiful.”

You feel his fingertips on your glistening cheek, and his honey eyes hold your gaze as he fills you up again.

Chan presses his pillowy lips into yours and moans into your mouth. And, god, his sounds are so delicious.

He plants his elbows on the table on either side of your head and laces his fingers together above you. He’s not tossing you around anymore. And he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, not with your arms encircling his neck and your legs tightly wrapped around his hips. This is it.

A few thrusts later, you’re there. And he’s close. He can feel you clench around him, and that tightness, that pressure. A few more pumps into that wet heat has him unraveling, too, and he breaks the kiss to try to form a cohesive thought.

“Fuck. You’re, you’re. F-fuck. You’re so… perfect.”

He empties himself deep inside you as he speaks, but it’s not enough. You need his lips, his mouth, to possess him completely.

You raise your neck to connect lips once again, and he returns the favor with passion. His kiss is so intense, so deep, like he’s trying to claim you and keep you right back.

“I’m yours,” you pant into his lips.

“I know,” he exhales, returning the air to your lungs. “And I’m yours.”

Mouths reattach as you ride out your highs, and the give and take continues well past the aftershocks. You just can’t get enough of his mouth; you could do this forever.

Minutes pass, and you can feel him shrink between your legs. Of course, neither of you could give a fuck. Wrapped in each other’s limbs like this is everything — absolutely everything.

Chan finally pulls back to breathe after who knows how long, and his swollen lips immediately pull into a warm smile.

“I love you,” he whispers once, then again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His smile, his love is so infectious, you’d return it even if you weren’t already drowning in raw affection for him.

“I love you,” you whisper back. “Thank you.”

Somehow, his smile widens even more, and you swear you see a thousand sunrises, a million stars, a billion fireworks exploding in his eyes all at once.

“Anything for you,” he hums as he lightly strokes your cheek. “Everything for you.”

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Note

Helloooo, I'm new and I'm so in love with your fanfics! Wanted to ask if you're open for requests bc I love the way you write sm ><

I am! I have a huge backlog and random ideas from my lizard brain that take over🦎

But please submit if you’re comfy with it! No guarantees but I do love prompts 🥰

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Note

Hi, could you do a masterlist for your stories and maybe give them titles instead of sentences?

Hi! Yeah I can definitely do that 😊

UPDATE: Made a second masterlist by title! Description one is still live for those who prefer that :)

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Note

I think the dick cake fic altered my brain chemistry...haven't decided if it was in a good or bad way

Tbh you and me both. Haven’t looked at cake the same since

🎂🍆🍰🤪

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

PART 1: 🚪 Whats wrong with a little privacy, huh? 🚪

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Slightly smutty fluff (?)

✎ Summary: Your boyfriend takes you out to a nice restaurant, but you end up eating something not on the menu.

✎ CW: Tbh kissing. I hope you like kissing.

✎ Word count: 2,118

✩ A/N: Spicy part 2 is live!✩

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” Chan says, shooting you a quick smirk while he drives.

He always looks effortlessly sexy in the car: one hand on the steering wheel, one somewhere on your leg. Tonight, it’s high up on your thigh, squeezing and rubbing the bare skin just under the hem of your dress.

“Thanks, baby,” you reply. “You, too, of course.”

“Oh, stop,” he chides. “You’ll make me blush.”

But he does anyway. Even in the dark, you can see his cheeks take on a slightly pink hue. It’s so easy to make him flustered sometimes.

The way the moonlight hit his skin was enough to make you giddy, too. His umber eyes glancing back and forth between the road ahead and your thigh, the way his wide nose slopes down and curves just above his plump, pink lips, his silver hoops swinging back and forth in his earlobes when you hit a rough patch of pavement. He was like living art. And he was all yours.

“So….” he starts, trying to change the topic inside your brain to something less… him. “You excited for the seafood?”

“Mhhmmm,” you mumble, still entranced by the god next to you. He’s gonna have to try harder than that.

He catches your eyes for a second and giggles before squeezing your thigh.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he says sheepishly. “I can’t handle that look in your eyes.”

“What look?” you ask, fully aware of what look it is. But it’s always fun to hear him describe it.

“Like… like you’re…” he says between glances. “Like you love me. A ridiculous amount.”

“Like you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life?” you add.

“Yes, that,” he says with a laugh. “It’s making me nervous. And… excited. I have to focus on driving and you’re over there looking at me like that — it’s so distracting.”

“Fine, fine,” you surrender and smirk. “I’ll save my lovey-dovey eyes for when you’re not operating a murder machine.”

“Thank you, my love,” he says appreciatively, reaching for your hand to bring it to his lips. “So, as I was saying… seafood. What do you think you’re gonna eat?”

“I’m not sure,” you say, shifting your glance to the road. “Clams definitely. Oysters maybe? Do you wanna share something?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’d love to share with you,” he says, squeezing your hand he still holds between the two of you.

The rest of the drive isn’t long, but keeping your eyes on the road is agony. Every brush of his thumb on the back of your hand fills you with raw emotion you need to channel back to him, but you fight to keep your eyes to yourself for the sake of his sanity — and your lives, apparently.

The car pulls into the parking lot, and he finds a spot easily. Once it’s in park, Chan removes his seatbelt, shoots you a wink, and says, “hold tight.” He exits his side, shuts the door, and hustles over to the passenger side where he opens the door for you with a slight bow.

“We’ve arrived, my lady,” he says and holds his hand out for you.

“Oh, thank you, good sir,” you reply, placing your hand in his to help you out of the car. “What a lovely gentleman you are.”

He shut the door, places his hand at his waist and holds out his elbow for you to take.

“Shall we?”

“Of course.”

You walk arm in arm toward the entrance, both smiling wide as you ascend the stairs.

“Good evening, sir and madam,” the host greets in a similar — but less sarcastic — tone of voice. “Do we have a reservation this evening?”

“Yes, should be under Christopher,” Chan answers.

“Ah, yes. Mr. Bahng. We have you in the private room this evening.”

“Oohhh, the private room, huh?” you whisper in his ear. “Ok, rich ass.”

He holds back a smile but squeezes your arm as the host extends his arm and gestures to follow him.

You weave through tables and up stairs and around hallway corners until the man opens a tall door and steps to the side so you can enter. Inside is a table for 4, but with only two seats. A small chandelier hangs from the tall ceiling, and the windowless walls are nearly bare, except for a themed photo or two.

“Will this do, sir and madam?” the host asks politely.

“Of course, this is perfect, thank you,” Chan replies. “Will a waiter come to us, or…”

“Yes, sir, they’ll come by and knock before entering.”

Oh, you sly piece of shit.

“Sounds perfect, thank you so much again,” Chan says.

The waiter nods and steps out of the room, closing the heavy door behind him.

“You fucking…” you tease, slapping Chan’s toned arms lightly. “Private room? The waiter has to knock? So pretentious.”

“Listen, I didn’t know it was this private, but yeah,” he defends himself, but his face softens again when he pulls you into his chest. “What’s wrong with a little privacy, huh?”

“You better be good,” you warn, looking at him sternly.

“I will, I promise,” he smirks, but then he holds you tighter and kisses your neck just below your jawline, so you’re almost certain his fingers must be crossed.

“Yeah, ok, sure,” you say sarcastically and lift his head to plant a quick kiss on his nose before heading to your respective sides of the table and sitting in the outlandish chairs — they’re almost like mini thrones.

“Well, these are… a lot,” Chan scoffs and turns his attention to you. “But they do suit you well, my queen.”

“And you, my king,” you say, barely holding in a giggle.

A knock at the door ends the role play — for now — and a waiter enters with two glasses and a bottle of wine.

“Good evening, can I get you two anything else to drink or eat?” he says politely as he pours your first glasses.

Chan skillfully orders a bottle of champagne, a tray of oysters, clams and other shellfish, and a pasta dish. The waiter takes note and leaves almost as quickly as he came.

“Wow, ok,” you say in amazement.

“What? Not happy with the selections?” he replies with a grin.

“No it’s fine, that was just… quick,” you marvel and pick up your glass, taking a sip of the Malbec.

“Yeah, hopefully the food comes quickly, too,” he says, then his expression turns much more serious, seductive even.

“Until then… wanna come sit in my lap?”

“Hm?” you ask. “You want me to sit in your lap… in a fancy restaurant?”

“Well, it is a private room…” he muses and grabs his glass, taking a sip and pushing his chair back from the table. Even confident Channie can’t help but blush when he gets excited, and you can’t resist those rosy cheeks.

“Well… will you? Please?” he repeats the question.

“… just because you asked nicely.”

You stand from your chair and slowly round the table to his seat, standing above him for a few seconds before lifting your dress enough to straddle his legs.

“Hi,” you chirp once your faces are only inches apart. “How are you?”

“Better now,” he says with a grin as he placed his glass back on the table and snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you closer so your noses touch. “How are you, darling?”

“I’m ok, a little hungry,” you answer, wrapping your arms around his neck and rubbing your nose against his. “You smell amazing.”

“So do you,” he says softly, leaning forward to inhale your exhales. “So sweet… I want to taste you.”

His lips gently press against yours as his palm travels up your back and stops at the base of your neck. His fingers close around it just enough to keep you steady, to keep you close.

He opens his lips then, slipping his tongue out to run along your bottom lip. Your tongue meets his there before returning to its original position to let him explore.

Soft sighs and moans bounce back and forth between your mouths as the kiss deepens. Heads tilt to gain better access, and hands travel to necks, to hair, to cheeks… to hold, to stroke, to savor.

Both of your eyes are squeezed shut, too overwhelmed by your other senses to process anything else. And you don’t need to see to understand the map of his mouth. It’s a place you’ve been so many times before. A place that stays with you even when you’re away. A place that feels like home.

Your mouth tastes like wine, but as more of his saliva sits on your tongue, the flavors change. The acidity drops away almost entirely, letting notes of vanilla, dark chocolate and blackberries shine through.

“Mmm,” he hums, breaking the kiss for just a second. “This wine is delicious.”

“I was just thinking the same,” you say, amazed for the millionth time how in sync you are. “Want some more?”

He nods, and you turn to grab his glass from the table and hand it to him. But he holds his hand up,l and gestures for you to drink.

“No, you go ahead, baby,” he says. “But don’t swallow it.”

Your eyes narrow at him, but you do as he asks anyway, taking a sip and letting the liquid slosh around between your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he says. “Now, come here.”

He places his palms on either side of your neck, pulling your mouths together once again. He presses his bottom lip firmly beneath yours and uses his tongue to separate your lips, letting wine spill from your mouth into his.

Your bodies stay eerily still as the stream falls between his lips, onto his tongue. If a waiter walked in right now, he may think he stumbled upon an ancient stone fountain, lovingly crafted by skilled and passionate hands.

The last drop falls, and his hold on your neck disappears. He closes his lips and lets the wine sit on his tongue for what seems like hours, though it was only a few seconds. Then he swallows.

“Hmmm,” he hums, his face scrunching up. “Vanilla… berries?”

A smile spreads across your face.

“I got that, too. Blackberries,” you say excitedly.

“Oh, yeah, that’s it,” he confirms. “Blackberries.”

He looks up into your eyes and sends that same smile, that same expression of understanding and love, right back at you. And you’re so synchronized, you dive back in to taste his lips at the same time he does, roughly bumping foreheads and noses in the process.

“Ow! Fuck!” you exclaim, moving your hand to the bridge of your nose to assess the damage.

You clearly got the worst of the collision, though, because he just sits there smiling and giggling.

“Come here, dumbass,” he says softly, placing one big hand on the back of your neck to guide you safely back to his lips.

His lips are softer now. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the swelling. But it’s like closing silky pillows between your lips again and again and again. There’s something so comforting, so safe, about being trapped there.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your mouth, too entranced to bother breaking the kiss for three small words.

And you’re too lightheaded to even form words, so you settle for a soft moan in reply and let your fingers find his hair.

You run the soft strands through your fingers and lure sweet sounds from his mouth, like you’re playing with a marionette. Pull this strand, he moans. Pull that strand, he sighs. Rub his scalp…

The hand on your neck travels down slowly, between your shoulder blades, and follows your spine down to your ass. He grips one cheek and squeezes just enough to make you groan. He knows how to pull your strings, too.

That hand travels forward now, around your hip to the top of your thigh. It sits there for a few seconds, enough time for its owner to slide his tongue behind your teeth, feeling every ridge as he goes.

He must’ve found some confidence there, because he takes that big hand and slides it over and down, between your legs.

You stifle a moan at the same time a knock sounds from the door. The knob twists before he has time to lift his hand out from under your panties, let alone get you off his lap and back to your seat. As the door swings open, Chan whispers in your ear.

“Looks like somebody’s getting a big tip…”

…continued in part 2...

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

🪴 All At Once 🪴

✎ Category: Poetic existential crisis

✎ Summary: Bang Chan is everything and nothing all at once. I am confused. I am sad. I need a nap.

✎ CW: Death, sadness, general obsession tbh

✎ Song recs: “Bones” & “Nothing” - Lewis Watson

✩ A/N: Not entirely sure what this is, but just putting it up in case it helps put into words what anyone else is feeling ☹️ ✩

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

My love, my sun, my moon, my stars.

The clouds in my sky, the wind that blows them away, the clear blue left up above.

The oxygen I breathe, the path it takes through my lungs, the carbon monoxide I exhale.

The blood in my veins, the marrow in my bones, the fluid in my spine.

You’re everything combined keeping me afloat and upright.

But you’re also the sharpened rocks along the shoreline, the 20-foot-tall crashing waves, the inescapable current that pulls me closer and closer to the base of the cliff.

The siren that drags me down and under and into all-but-assured destruction.

The same air I inhale that pollutes the earth only seconds after.

The cells and atoms that make me up that will one day resign and slip away while I crumble into dust and ash and mingle with the rich soil of the ground.

But where will that leave you?

You, the pieces of me, the earth, the universe.

Will you carry on, making up the world for someone else?

Or do you die, too, only to be reborn again as everything and nothing all at once?

The only solace I have, if all else fails, is that you so engulfed me in life that I’m assured you’ll be just as inescapable in death.

You’ll be the repurposed cedar or granite or silt that holds my rotting flesh and cold bones gently in your embrace while the earth reclaims me.

While you reclaim me. Make me yours again.

For the first and the last and the billionth time.

All at once.

#idk what this post is #so in love it tears me to pieces #how did this happen to me #whatever #sorry for being depressing #bang chan #bang chan drabbles #bang chan fluff #bang chan soft thoughts #bang chan soft hours #poem #depressing poem

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

🍆 So you can feel me even when I’m not there… 🍆

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Sad smut

✎ Summary: Chan’s on tour, but he’s found a way to be attentive even when he’s overseas.

✎ CW: Phone sex, FaceTime sex, dirty talk, sex toy use, swears, praise kink, daddy kink, general sadness

✎ Word count: 3,604

✎ Song recs: “Baby I’m Yours” - Arctic Monkeys & “Even When I’m Not With You” - Pierce the Veil

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

Two days.

It had only been two days since you saw him last, when he dragged himself out of bed at 3 in the morning to head to the airport.

He’d made you come four times before bed that night — once for each day he’d be gone — and held you tight while you slept. He even kissed you goodbye four times before leaving in the morning. But it wasn’t enough; nothing could ever be enough.

Even on his busiest days, you could at least look forward to him crawling into bed at night. He’d slide in behind you, pulling you into his chest as he drifts off, or maybe lightly pressing his hips into yours to see if you’d be down for a quickie. Sometimes you’d both be so tired he’d just slip his cock into you and gently roll his hips until he found release or simply fell asleep.

But the nights he was gone were almost unbearable. You’d wake up just before dawn to a dark room and an empty bed, immediately filled with fear that something happened to stop him from coming home to you. Then it hits you that he’s not supposed to come home, and somehow that’s even worse.

Two nights in a row waking up with that feeling has you losing it. The ache in your chest and your cunt only grows, and there’s nothing a weighted blanket or vibrator could do about either sensation. You need him.

Hey, baby

Malaysia is only an hour behind, but he’s probably sleeping after the early morning trip. He’ll reply later.

You try to go about your morning routine as best you can, but you can’t take your mind off his absence. Coffee, oatmeal, an empty seat at your table for two. Movie, blanket, a cold cushion on the loveseat. His scent is fading from the sweatshirt you haven’t taken off since the morning he left.

He needs his rest, but you need to hear his voice, see his words. Anything from him at this point.

Baby…

Luckily, he answers quickly this time.

Yeah love ?

I miss you…

I miss you too sweetheart

No I mean I…

I MISS you

I see hahahaha

:( don’t laugh

A voice message comes next.

“Naur, I’m sorry baby,” his silky voice pours out of the speaker. “Didn’t mean to make fun. You’re just cute… and predictable. Hehehehe.”

It takes a few listens to comprehend what he’s actually saying to you. The sound of his words and his laugh and his breath are exactly what you needed. And you’re sure he knows that, because he sends another text before you can compose yourself enough to reply.

Doing ok over there?

As best as I can… thank you

I wanna hear you too ㅠㅠㅠ

“Hiiii. I love youuuu. I miss yooouuuu,” you coo into the mic and send it off.

Adorable

Hey… what are you doing now?

Watching a movie

Ok if I call… ?

Of course :)

The Arctic Monkeys’ rendition of “Baby I’m Yours” plays and his goofy smile pops up on your screen. You almost always spend a few seconds distractedly staring at this photo you took before answering his calls.

“Hi, honey.”

Your voice is soft and sweet, matching the expression on your boyfriend’s face. One hand is pressed between the hotel pillow and his messy hair, and his sleepy, cinnamon eyes look right into the camera.

“Just woke up, thinking about yooouuuuu…” he croons, dragging out the last word just as you did in your voice note. “What are you watching?”

“I don’t know, I just clicked on whatever Netflix suggested,” you reply. “Just trying to distract myself.”

“Is it good at least?” he asks, still gazing at you in complete adoration.

“It’s fine, I don’t care,” you insist, more interested in listening to the beautiful boy on your phone talk about literally anything. “How about you? Tell me about the tour.”

“Ahhh,” he starts, shifting his glance offscreen. “First show went well, another today.”

His eyes are pointed just under the camera now, and a tiny smile spreads across his lips.

“It’s beautiful here,” he says. “I keep thinking about experiencing all of this with you, though. We’ll have to come back.”

“Yeah, sure,” you answer dazedly. Hearing him say romantic shit with those lips… looking at you with those eyes… it’s mystifying.

When you started dating, his excitement would turn to concern when you zoned out like this, but now he knows better, and his smile only widens.

“I love you,” he says softly and stifles a giggle. “But hey, I gotta go. They need us for some press thing soon.”

You can’t hide the frown that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“I know, I know,” he consoles. “I’ll be free later, and I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Ok, have a good day, talk to you later,” you answer weakly.

“Hey, 힘내. I’ll make it worth it,” he winks.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

He blows a kiss and then he’s gone, leaving you to stare at your sad reflection on the black screen.

The minutes, then the hours pass. True crime episodes, supernatural thrillers, nothing can hold your attention. You’re drowning in thoughts of him, and every tiny chime from your phone sends your heart rate to the moon. It’s never him, but it doesn’t stop you from hoping.

A characteristically slow episode of this week’s hottest dating show has you half asleep, and you almost miss the alert you’ve been waiting for. Luckily, it’s followed by his ringtone a minute later.

“Hiiii??” you answer groggily.

“Hey, baby, enjoy your nap?”

Chan’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, and you decide a low grunt is enough to answer his question.

“Hehehe, I can’t talk but wanted to make sure you were up. Check your texts. Byyyeeee!”

He’s gone again, and you muster enough strength to navigate to your messages just in time to see the original text before a new one pops up.

Still filming, but I miss you too much

Get any deliveries today?

Not that I know of but let me check

You pad to the door, feeling the cool wood on your feet for the first time in hours. A quick peek into the hallway outside of the apartment reveals a medium-sized, plain cardboard box.

You bring it back to the couch — today’s haven — and drape the blanket back over you before placing the box in your lap and checking your phone.

��…

Come baaccckkkk

There’s a box… what did you do

Did you open it?

The tape breaks easily, and inside is a note stamped with three small hearts sitting atop delicately folded tissue paper. Underneath, you find some lingerie, a mask, and two boxes varying in size.

Inside the first is a small suction toy, and the second contains a silicone dildo packaged with another note.

So you can feel me even when I’m not there…

A closer inspection reveals ridges and curves that seem almost familiar. You close your fingers around the base and slowly drag your hand toward the tip, feeling the same veins press against your fingers. How did he…

Is this…

Akskdnsnsksjsjskdjdnskskdjdnd

It was supposed to ship before I left I’m sorry it’s late

How the fuck did you do this

Will you try it out for me later?

I want to know how close it is to the real thing and you know it best

Chan oh my god

I’ll call in an hour when I’m back in my room ok…?

See you soon!!!

Of course he’d do something like this without warning you, but the timing couldn’t be better. What better to fill the hole left by his absence than, well, him.

A quick shower and trash run later, you settle in on the couch right as your phone rings for the third time today.

“Hey, sexy,” he hums. “Do you like your gifts?”

“Waited for you to try them out, but they do seem promising,” you tease, angling your phone down just enough to get some cleavage in frame. One corner of his mouth pulls back in a smirk, putting that dimple on full display.

“Cute… I’ve wanted to see you in that for weeks. But I do have a question, a proposition I guess…”

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“Can you prop up your phone so I can see you, and put the blindfold on?”

Hot, but also…

“So… I can’t see you then?”

“I want it to feel like I’m there, like I’m the one touching you, making you feel good,” he says as a light blush spreads across his cheeks. “I read somewhere this helps.”

“Oh, well, ok, yeah. You’ll keep talking though?”

“Of course, baby. I’ll talk you through it all.”

“Ok, hold on.”

You make quick work of leaning your phone against one of the many glasses on the coffee table, ensuring the whole couch is in clear view before stepping back and slowly sitting down. The suction toy rests on the cushion to your left, and the dildo on the right.

“Perfect, ok, now put the dildo on the floor,” Chan says. “There’s suction on the bottom, you can just stick it to the wood.”

You secure his cock on the ground between the couch and the table, and everything in you screams to just sit on it now and never take it out ever again. But he has other plans, so you’ll save that fantasy for later and sit back on the couch.

“Blindfold time, sweetheart.”

A deep breath in, and you slide the silk down over your eyes and place your hands on your knees, awaiting further instruction.

“All good?” Chan asks, excitement and concern laced together in his voice. “You can hear me ok?”

“Mhm, yeah. Ready when you are.”

Another giggle fills the space, and it’s clear he was right. In the dark, it’s easier to pretend he isn’t hundreds of miles away. Like he’s here, standing above you.

“I love that you got all dressed up for me,” he says, slow and low. “Can I see your pretty panties, too?”

Hands still on your knees, you gradually spread your legs until your calves hit the couch.

“That’s perfect, baby. They look so good on you, on your skin. I wish I could touch your skin,” he rambles a bit, then pauses before continuing. “Can you describe it for me?”

“My skin?”

“Yeah, touch yourself. Tell me how it feels.”

You place your fingertips just under your chin, lightly dragging them along your neck, down to your chest.

“It’s…. soft, smooth. I put that lotion you like on after my shower.”

“You did? Where else did you put it?”

“On my chest, my stomach, my thighs…” you respond, running your fingers down your body as you go.

“And your inner thighs? There, too?”

“Of course.”

He lets out a shuddering breath as your hand travels down to your legs, moving out to your knee via the top of your thigh and heading back on the soft, sensitive skin on your inner thigh. Fingertips stop just between thigh and crotch.

“What about between your legs? Can you tell me how it feels there?”

You slide a finger under the fabric, gliding across the freshly shaved skin with help from the slickness of your arousal. You make a point to bend your finger so your knuckle presses outward, making it clear exactly where you’re touching yourself — for the yearning viewer’s sake.

“It’s wet, silky… delicate.”

“Silky, huh? And how do you feel when you touch yourself there?”

“Good,” you reply a little too quickly, revealing the truth behind the calm, composed roles you’d both been playing. You’re sure he’s chuckling at you right now. If only you could see his face…

“How does that compare to when I touch you there?”

Thoughts immediately snap to him, his fingers, doing what you’re doing. Emulating his typical movements in the dark has you almost, almost convinced it is him. Him teasing you, tormenting you before unexpectedly dipping a finger or two inside. Asking how badly you want him, want his big cock…

“Baby, tell me what you’re feeling.”

“You,” you admit. “I feel… you.”

“Yeah?” he chirps, a hint of pride in his voice. “What am I doing? What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck me.”

“I don’t know if you’re ready for me yet. Gotta stretch you out first, play with your clit a little. Can you grab that toy for me?”

You reach for the suction toy on your left, hovering just over it until he confirms that’s what he wants.

“Yeah, use that for me. On your clit. It should feel like my mouth...”

You raise your hips to slide the thong down, giving yourself a better chance to use this correctly. Pointer and middle fingers spread your folds as you try your best to aim in the darkness.

The suction feels… strange. Interesting? You reposition it a few times and it’s nice, but not like oral, though. And you must look frustrated, because…

“Wow, it is really like I’m there…” Chan muses.

“Huh? How?”

“It’s just… taking you a bit… to find…” he giggles.

“Oh, shut up, you’re so… oh…”

Yep, there it is. The silicone circle surrounds the sensitive nub and pulls inward. It’s just like lips… and tongue… and Chan… relentlessly sucking and pulling with his face buried between your thighs and his hands gripping your hips and your fingers lodged in his hair…

It’s so good but it’s so much. Your head is spinning and your heart is racing and your toes curl down into the wood trying to ground yourself in any way you can. Your free hand alternates between squeezing the life out of the couch cushion and running along your skin — down your thighs, up your chest, through your hair. Nails dragging and leaving marks like you would on him, on his chest, on his back…

“Baby, come for me.”

His voice breaks through the haze like lightning cracking down from the sky, sending electric tingles through your veins. A strained cry escapes your throat as you do exactly what he said, what he ordered.

The high is short but intense, and you’re shaking well past the end. You let the toy fall to the couch and lean back, enjoying the aftershocks.

“You look so beautiful like that,” he hums.

“Mhhhmmm,” you sigh. “Hope you enjoyed the show.”

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Chan whispers, but it’s louder now. Like his mouth is right next to the mic. “I want you to ride me.”

Finally.

You maneuver down to the floor and feel for the rigid silicone. You position your knees on either side and slightly in front of the dildo, then lower your ass down toward your feet until the tip brushes against your folds.

“Want daddy to spread you open? Split your walls around my cock?”

“Please,” you beg, reaching down to play with your swollen clit while rolling your hips forward and back, just rubbing the head against you.

“Spit in your hand and rub it on me.”

You do as you’re told again, coating the dildo in your saliva. It’s amazing how much it feels like him.

“Put me in… just a little.”

You angle the head into you. It’s just as big as him, and just as much of a shock when the tip disappears inside your body. You have inches to go, but you’re already starting to feel whole again.

“How does it feel?”

“Amazing, it’s so real. It feels like you.”

“It is me, baby. You feel so good, too. Can you pull your hair for me?”

The thought of it makes you moan, and the tug on the back of your scalp only increases the volume. You inch down slowly, giving yourself time to adjust to his size and appreciate every single vein and curve as it forces your walls apart. He stretches you out so well…

“Take me all the way. Now.”

A pained groan sounds out as you force yourself down to the floor, burying Chan’s cock in you down to his balls. The sound of them slapping against your soaked pussy makes both of you moan.

“Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You carefully raise and lower your hips, still not fully acclimated to his size. Each lift-up is bittersweet relief, and each push-down is delicious torment. You go faster and faster each time, urged on by his groans.

“Take off your bra. I wanna see your tits bounce for me.”

Fingers undo the clasp and you slide the garment over your shoulders and down your arms, still rolling your hips up and down, angling him into every inch of flesh inside you.

“Play with your nipple… wet your fingers and pinch it like I do. I want to hear you whine.”

This time, You use the wetness from your pussy to dampen your fingers before running one hard nipple between finger and thumb. His moans encourage you to reach down to gather more, but this time, you slide three fingers into your mouth and close your lips. You drag them out slowly, knowing it will drive him wild.

“Wanna taste me, baby?” you ask.

“More than anything in the world. What is it like?”

“Hmmmm,” you muse, taking time to wrap your tongue around each individual finger in the lewdest way possible. “Sweet… and salty.”

“Mmm, I want to lick you clean,” he confesses, “eat you for every single meal. I wanna live between your thighs.”

You fuck yourself faster now, bouncing up and down on his dick. He fills you up perfectly and completely, like he was made to your exact specifications. And this was made to his.

“Feels so good… so big…” you exhale, placing one hand behind you to steady yourself and using the other to twist and tweak your nipple.

“Yeah… and you feel so tight, you take my cock so well. Can you roll your body how I like?”

Shoulders back first, you wind your torso forward and back, taking extra care to roll your hips on his cock. Back and forth, back and forth. His name on your lips.

“That’s it, just like that. Good girl.”

Skin slaps from both ends of the call, and your shaky exhales happen almost in perfect unison. He must be close, and so are you.

“Ch… choke yourself. Squeeze that pretty neck.”

Fingers leave your tit to grip your neck and force your head back, just like he does when he leans in, hot breath on your skin, sucking hickeys into any flesh not hidden by his long fingers. Biting your ear, pulling down at the lobe and letting it snap back as you grind into his lap. Fucking yourself on his big cock at your own pace, tits bouncing in his face. He’ll catch a nipple between teeth if he can, biting down hard and letting go quickly. Just kissing and sucking and nipping at your skin like an animal… like a…

“Oh fuck!” you cry out, washed over by a wave of unstoppable pleasure. “I’m… Chan… I’m…”

“That’s it, come for me, come on me,” he hisses.

His cock relentlessly slams into you throughout your orgasm, so rhythmically you forget it’s not really him fucking you to pieces in his lap.

“Oh god… oh fuck, you… oh fuck…” he moans, finishing right after you in typical him fashion.

Vision blurs until you come back down, slowing your vertical pace until you’re sitting on him, motionless. He’s quiet now, too, undoubtedly recovering from his own orgasm.

“You are, that was…” he starts then trails off, opting to focus on breathing instead.

The tinny sound of his voice is almost a surprise. You practically forgot he wasn’t there. Forgot he wasn’t lying in ruins in the dark next to you.

You pull the blindfold off and toss it to the floor. He’s in a similar position as you, sitting at the foot of the bed looking wiped as hell.

“So… what’s the verdict?” Chan asks between deep breaths and sighs.

“It’s great. Not as good as the real thing, but close,” you decide.

“You look so amazing using it. Watching it slide in and out of you… god. It felt like a dream.”

Your eyes meet — as much as they can over FaceTime. You’re captivated by the image of him: shirtless, cock taut against his toned stomach, half hidden by the elastic waistband of his shorts. Eyeshadow is smeared around his wide, caramel eyes while a soft smile plays at his lips.

“I love you,” he says softly, breaking the silence.

“I love you,” you echo.

A few more seconds of quiet admiration, then he makes the face. The one he breaks out just before delivering bad news.

“Hey, I gotta get ready to head to the venue,” he says, glancing down at his watch. “I’m already a little late, oops.”

“That’s ok, thank you for… everything. Really,” you reply, still too far up in the clouds to be sad about yet another goodbye.

“I love you, I’ll text you after the show, yeah?”

“Perfect. Oh, and just so you know, I will be sleeping with this inside me tonight.”

His sullen expression fades into that famous smile, and it’s aimed at you.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” he says with a chuckle and a wink. “Now I just need a replica of you…”

“We’ll make one when you get home.”

“Perfect.”

2K notes · View notes

whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

🪢 You’re nothing more than our little plaything now, got it? 🪢

✎ Pairing: sexy ass!Bang Chan x intense!Lee Know x cocky!Han Jisung x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut (maybe fic?)

✎ Summary: Three mysterious men want to use you as a human pocket pussy for the night. Why the hell not?

✎ CW: ❗️Consensual nonconsent, a little blood❗️foursome, drinking, degradation, hand job, blow job, rough sex, face fucking, fingering, public fingering, general crassness

✎ Word count: 4,930

✩ A/N: I maaayyyy keep this one going as a chaptered fic?? Idk though. Lmk what you think! ✩

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

Click

One handcuff latches around the bedpost. Its closely-linked twin is already snug around your right wrist.

Click, click

The man on your left encloses the bedpost first, then your wrist. You watch his skilled fingers work with bated breath.

“Comfortable?” the cocky blonde with the cute cheeks asks before shooting you a sly smile.

The dark-haired one scoffs.

“Like it matters,” he answers for you. “This isn’t about her comfort, is it now?”

“Quit bickering, you two,” says the third man — the amber-eyed, honey-tongued one. “We’re on the same team, here, yeah?”

The other two nod.

“Good. Now, grab her legs.”

They do as they’re told, pushing your ankles down into the bed. The leader unzips his jeans, pulls down his boxers, and slowly strokes his cock.

He hungrily examines your naked body, mapping out a course of action. You take the opportunity to study him, too, and deduce two things almost immediately:

1. His dick is probably the biggest you’ve ever seen, let alone taken.

2. That devilish grin on his face makes you nervous.

In one swift motion, he maneuvers the garments around his muscular legs and drops them to the ground. He crawls onto the bed, barking out one more order to his friends.

“Don’t let her go… even if she screams for help.”

Fuck, what did you get yourself into?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It didn’t take much to convince you at the time. Hot stranger approaches at the bar, buys you a drink. You chat, you flirt, you dance, you kiss. He asks if you wanna get out of here, of course you say yes. It was a typical pickup story — until it wasn’t.

You were already under his spell by the time he shared information about his friends: the brooder and the showboat. He pointed to a dimly lit corner where the two men watched you intently from afar, but you recognized those faces.

They had been hovering before. A hand on the small of your back as one walked past, eye contact held for just a second too long over your suitor’s shoulder. The three of them circled you like sharks, and you didn’t even notice.

But they were good dudes, he guaranteed it. Just some friends as close as brothers who wanted to try something, someone. Together.

You’d had a threesome before, so what’s one more? But not like that exactly, he clarified. Yes, four people, but more like 3 vs. 1. As in they can freely pinch and poke and prod, while you’re pinched and poked and prodded.

It could have been the alcohol or how his lips moved when he spoke in that Australian accent or the way the flecks of gold and copper and bronze swirled around his pupils, but you said yes.

Were you 100% sure? No, but why not? He said they’d give you a safe word and had absolutely no intention of hurting you (unless you wanted them to), but it could — and likely would — get rough. Fuck it, sure.

The first time you spoke to the other two was outside, and it was nothing more than simple hellos. Not even names. That was another part of the deal: anonymity. No personal details, no phone numbers, no emotional mess to deal with in the morning.

You stood on the sidewalk with the two strangers while the one who convinced you to do this tried to hail a cab. Eyes shamelessly traveled up and down each others’ bodies while you waited.

The blonde with the cute face and deep brown eyes stood — chest puffed out — next to the dark brown-haired one. His irises were darker than the blonde’s, and his energy much more intense. Arms crossed tightly across his chest, he squinted at you from the moment you said hello until the yellow car finally pulled up. Welp, here goes nothing.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The cheeky blonde slides in first, and the quiet one gestures for you to go next. Whether he was being chivalrous or just wanted a sneak peek under your skirt as you maneuvered into the car wasn’t clear. Either way, he got his wish.

Blondie waited only for the inside lights to dim before placing a hand on your knee. He slowly drags his fingertips up your thigh, zigging and zagging more toward the inside, then the outside. He pauses when he touches the hem of your skirt, then retraces his steps back down to your knee. His motions repeat, but his path inches closer and closer to your inner thigh each time.

The mysterious one on your right hungrily stares down at your legs and cracks his knuckles, and the Aussie glances in the rear-view mirror every now and then to monitor their actions and gauge your reaction. He keeps smirking — showing off those dreamy dimples that hooked you in the first place — and shaking his head at the eagerness of his friend.

Eventually, there’s no more accessible flesh for the bold one to traverse. His path has led him to the line where your thighs meet, and they’re pressed together firmly. You see this scenario playing out in one of two ways, but the man you can’t quite pin down surprises you with option number 3.

His hand lands on your leg with a loud clap, and he forces his way between your thighs. The two of them pry your legs apart and run their digits up and down the sensitive skin, putting your panties on full display for the driver.

Tingles immediately shoot up your spine. They inch closer and closer to your crotch, but never actually reach it. Fingertips always stop right at the edge of your panties before traveling back toward your knees, but you can’t help but hope that each time would be different… and they’d finally…

“We’re here.”

Your eyes shoot back open; you hadn’t even realized they closed. The cabbie is paid in cash, and the men open and exit through their respective doors. They gather on the sidewalk, holding out hands to help you to your feet.

You mumble a thanks and stride behind them to the entrance. They open double doors for you and lead the way to the elevators. The blonde presses the button and stands watch, glancing back and forth between the two numbers to guess like he’s trying to guess which would arrive first.

The other two stand at your sides. The quiet one extends his arm to brush knuckles against your hip, and the Aussie places an open palm on your lower back and quietly hums a tune you haven’t heard before.

Ding

“Ha! I called it!” the blonde exclaims, clenching his fist in a tiny celebration of winning whatever game he played in his head.

The left elevator’s doors open, and you file in, the hand on your back guiding you to the rear of the car. Once you turn to face the front, his long fingers curl around your waist and pull you into his body. In another context, this may have been comforting. But the quiet one surprises you again and slips a hand under your skirt — heading right for your crotch this time.

He applies pressure to get a feel for you over your underwear. Then his middle finger curls up, pushing in just enough to make you squirm before returning to its initial position. Your breath quickens right when the elevator stops and the doors slide open once again.

An older couple walks in, exchanging smiles with your group. The hand at your waist squeezes tightly, and you smile, too. But the hand on your pussy doesn’t leave. If anything, he pushes into you deeper. You try to angle your hips away from him, but his lips go to your ear.

“Stay still,” he breathes. “You’re nothing more than our little plaything now, got it?”

Your toes curl into the soles of your shoes. It’s the only thing you can think to do that won’t make what’s happening so incredibly obvious. And everyone’s still smiling, but are they just being polite? You don’t know and you don’t care. You just want him to stop teasing and push through the silk entirely.

The elevator finally comes to a stop, and the couple steps off. Before the doors meet again, the one who started it all spins into you, his arm still tightly wrapped around your waist.

You’re chest to chest for the second time tonight. Without sweat and alcohol overwhelming your nose, you can finally inhale the vanilla and citrus of his cologne. His pull is just as intoxicating as it was at the bar, and you think you may be about to kiss him when he slams his free hand into the wall next to your head and leers down at you.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, yeah?” he growls. “We make the rules. We tell you to shut up? You shut up. We tell you to spread your legs? You spread ‘em. We tell you to come? You come. Got it?”

You nod.

“Good. Safe word is… uh…”

“Onion!” the blonde blurts out.

Dimples furrows his brow and shoots his friend a confused glance before turning his attention back to you.

“Sure, whatever, onion. You good with that?” he asks in that sexy accent.

“She better be,” the quiet one says from the corner while staring intently at your thighs.

Dimples and the blonde exchange smirks just as you reach the top floor and the doors open again. The Aussie keeps one arm tight around your waist and guides you down the hall.

The other two skip ahead, giggling about something unspoken. It’s like the dark-haired one is two different people. His emotionless eyes glare at you one second, and he’s beaming at the blonde in the next. They reach the room first, and he quickly snaps back into intimidation mode the second his eyes meet yours.

“Welcome to our playground…” the blonde says after you pass through the doorway.

It’s a typical hotel room: bathroom by the door, dresser below the tv, desk by the window, couch in the corner. But the bed sandwiched between nightstands sticks out the most. There’s only one, and four of you.

“Interesting…” you muse, slowly making your way to the couch.

“What’s that?” the dark-haired one asks.

“Yeah, what’s interesting?” blondie jumps in.

“Just… one bed,” you explain. “Guess we won’t be spending the night?”

“What makes you think that?” the Aussie challenges from across the room. He just finished moving the do not disturb sign to the other side of the door and attaching the chain. Now, he’s leaning against the wall, thick arms crossed over his chest.

Something about him keeps rendering you speechless. Whatever witty comment that was brewing in your mind is long gone, so you just plop down on the couch and stare at the bed.

“I think you broke her, hyung,” the blonde giggles and throws his body on the mattress. He’s enjoying the puzzled look on your face a little too much.

“So, who gets first go?” the quiet one asks from his position in the far corner.

Blondie is the first to offer his thoughts.

“He did most of the work so far, so I vote Ch-”

“SHHHHHH!” “Shut the fuck up!”

The other two cut him off almost in unison, but it’s a little too late. Ch-something. Noted.

“You’re a fucking idiot, but I agree,” Ch-something says, pushing off the wall and striding across the room toward you. He moves quickly, and he’s staring down at you again in mere seconds. “Stand up.”

You do as he asks, maintaining eye contact while you push up off the couch. Those beautiful eyes are a little cloudier now, and the sweet swirl from earlier looks more like a brewing thunderstorm.

He runs his fingers along the line where your top meets your skin. He drags his hands down your torso, feeling the lace on the bustier.

“Spin.”

You do as you’re told, and his hands get to work undoing the hooks along your spine.

“The second I saw you in this, I pictured what it would be like to take it off,” he admits. “Of course, there was a lot more ripping involved in my imagination.”

Your walls clench at the thought of someone like him wanting to rip your clothes off at first sight.

“But this is such a pretty top…” Ch-something continues. “And it would be a shame if we sent you home fucked and bruised and topless, too.”

One hand traces the exposed section of your spine before meeting the other and resuming their task.

“We’re nice boys, yeah? Just want you well-loved,” he says and presses his torso to your back, his silky lips to your ear. “And well-laid.”

The top releases its hold on your lower back and awkwardly hangs on your body. His big hands slide under the lace, around your waist, and up to your breasts. After a few squeezes, he slides the straps off your shoulders, and the top falls to the floor.

“I get first go, yeah?” he calls out to the others.

They echo in agreement from across the room. The Aussie circles your body before plopping down on the couch in front of you. He spreads his legs slightly and reaches for your hips.

“Come ’ere,” he commands, pulling you into his lap.

You straddle him and slide down onto his thighs, but not close enough, apparently. His hands firmly grip your ass and pull you into him. You can feel his hard cock press into your crotch while he wraps those big lips around one nipple.

He licks and nips and sucks at you, and you start to roll your hips into his lap. He gently guides you with palms on your ass, and for a minute you forget you’re not the only ones in the room. He has this way of making you dizzy with the warmth of his mouth and his hands and his chest and his...

“Ay, that’s enough,” one of the others says from behind you. “You’ll have plenty of time to mark her up later.”

Someone grabs your hair from behind and snaps your head back. Before you can register who it is, their lips are on yours and their nose presses into your chin. Hands go to your neck, alternating between caressing the skin and squeezing. Someone else is fiddling with your nipples, and Ch-whatever’s hands are still gripping your ass.

Whoever’s tongue it is forces its way into your mouth and flicks at your tongue, and both nipples are engulfed in wet warmth. A hand reaches under your skirt and pushes your silk panties to the side to stick a finger inside you. Then two. Then three.

The man above you squeezes your neck harder, and someone else rubs your lower stomach. There are arms and hands and mouths everywhere like some sick game of Twister.

One mouth leaves, then another, then the last. You can finally open your eyes and see thick eyelashes and dark hair above you. The quiet one is smiling down at you and stroking your cheek, making this the first time he looks at you endearingly. And, of course, it’s when he’s gripping your neck.

“Quit being soft, man,” the blonde says. He stands and grips your bicep to pull you up, too. Then his hand moves to your shoulder and pushes down.

“On your knees.”

You drop to the floor and stare up at him with wide eyes. From this angle, his tiny waist seems so small compared to his broad shoulders. His cock twitches in his pants, and you reach up to free it, but he smacks your hand away.

“I didn’t say you could touch me, slut,” he barks. “Keep your hands at your sides and open your fucking mouth.”

Your jaw drops and your tongue slides out over your bottom lip. The lean blonde unzips his pants, pulls out his thick cock and strokes it inches away from your face.

“You want this?” he asks, running its head back and forth over the tip of your tongue. “Want me to fuck your pretty mouth?”

You just stare up at him. He’s made it clear that it doesn’t matter what you think, so maybe not acknowledging his questions is what will really get him going.

And it works. His lips turn down in a scowl, and he roughly grips your hair and thrusts in hard, hitting the back of your throat right when his balls slap into your chin.

“Oh, that’s it,” he moans, picking up the pace. “Attagirl.”

You can’t see the other two, but you hear another zipper. Then your arm is lifted, and your hand is placed on another big, veiny cock. A quick glance to your right confirms it’s the dark-haired one, and his eyes tell you to stroke.

The way your head is bobbing back and forth makes it hard to concentrate on the movements of your hand, but you do your best. You keep waiting for Ch-something to join, but he just watches.

“I want her mouth now,” the dark-haired one says. “Why don’t you do the honors and get those panties off?”

Ch-something speaks up from the couch.

“Naur, her cunt is mine. Fuck her tits, they’re amazing.”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Good call,” the blonde replies between deep breaths. “Let’s get her on the bed.”

They pull out of your grip and easily lift you, a pair of hands under your arms and another under your knees. They drop you on the bed on your back, and the quiet one straddles your head with his thick thighs. He positions himself to enter your mouth and checks behind him to see if his friend has enough room to work.

“I’m good,” the blonde assures, straddling your waist and squeezing your breasts together. He slides his dick between them just as the other presses into your mouth.

The quiet one stares at the wall as he thrusts, and you’re kind of grateful. Other than that one sweet moment, his gaze has been severe. You’re not sure how you’d react if he looks at you like that again, but part of you wants to find out.

You reach for his hips and grip gently, seeing if that can initiate eye contact. Nope, his head just falls back instead, and the blonde takes a second to ruffle his hair.

“I know, her mouth is fantastic,” he says before sharing a warning. “Save yourself, though, it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Yeah… I know…” he pants in reply, squeezing your head between his strong legs. “This is just… so… good…”

“You know…” Ch-something speaks up again, “I have an idea.”

“What’s that, hyung?” the blonde asks, still sliding his hips forward and back on your chest.

A bag is tossed onto the bed, and something metallic clangs inside. But you’re distracted by the man opening the duffel and the way his T-shirt hugs his biceps while he rummages through it. You can’t wait for him to use you like his friends are.

“These…” he says, holding up something he pulled from the bag, “should be fun.”

You can’t see what’s in his hand, but the way the other two are giggling probably means it’s something exciting — for them at least.

“Fuck yeah, Chan, good looking out,” the blonde cheers, and the other two freeze.

“Dude, really??”

The nameless ones climb off of you and meet Chan at the foot of the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as they talk amongst themselves. Chan hands something to each of them, then places his hands on the bed when they go their separate ways.

“So, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Chan announces. “They’re gonna tie you up, and I’m gonna have my way with you.”

He reaches for your skirt and pulls at the zipper, loosening the waistband enough to slide it over your ass and down your legs. He presses his hand flat on the front of your panties, curling his fingers up and over the elastic at the top. He pushes his palm down into your folds, but he leaves the silk be. For now.

“Your body is mine,” he whispers into the skin just above your panty line.

The others have reached the top of the bed at this point, and Chan releases his hold on you. You’re pulled further up the bed and your arms extended so they can handcuff you to the bed posts.

The blonde checks to see if you’re comfortable, the dark-haired one doesn’t care, and Chan is annoyed by them both. The three men meet again at the foot of the bed, hungrily staring down at you.

Chan instructs them to hold your legs while he takes off his boxers and jeans. His large, throbbing cock scares the hell of out of you, but truly in the best possible way.

He crawls onto the bed and kneels between your spread-out legs. His fingertips tease the skin on your inner thighs, then your stomach, then your chest. He positions his hands on either side of your head and hovers above you.

“Don’t let her go… even if she screams for help,” he commands his friends before leaning down to press his lips to your neck. He speaks again, but his next words are for you alone.

“At least you know what name to scream now.”

He parts your lips with his tongue and dips in to explore the familiar landscape of your mouth. You probably spent more time kissing than speaking at the bar, now that you think of it, and that certainly worked in his favor when it came time to convince you to leave with them. He knows exactly what he’s doing with those plump lips.

His mouth goes to your neck next, and he sucks and bites your skin with every intention of leaving marks. He does the same on your chest, then your breasts, then your stomach — quick, painful bites followed by wet suction.

Forgetting your hands are useless to you now, you lightly pull at the headboard. The chain links jingle as you fight against them, but it’s pointless. You can’t push him away or pull him closer. You can only lie there and watch.

He glances up at you with those lustful eyes and a twisted grin, like he loves watching you squirm. He lowers himself to your crotch and runs the silk of your underwear between his fingers.

“These are cute, huh boys?” he calls out, and the others agree. “I wonder how they’ll look in pieces.”

“No-” you start, but Chan interrupts.

“No? I’m sorry, did you say no?” he thunders. “Shut her mouth.”

The blonde releases his hold on your leg and walks to the head of the bed. He closes his big hand over your lips, pushing your head down into the pillow and smugly staring at you with dark eyes.

“Better,” Chan says. “Now, where was I?”

He grips the top of your panties with both hands and pulls… but nothing happens. You giggle into the palm over your mouth. But he pulls harder and glares up at you, holding your gaze as the silk rips almost all the way down the front.

“Not so funny now, eh?” he quips, and the others smirk.

He adjusts his hold on the material and pulls again, tearing it the rest of the way. Four fingers roughly cram into you and curl up and down rapidly.

Your one free leg pulls up toward your chest, and Chan catches it with his idle hand and lifts it over his shoulder. He reaches back for the other and pinches your thigh as he hoists that one up, too.

He pulls his soaked fingers out and slides them in his mouth to taste you. Staring into your eyes, he spits on his hand, rubs it on his cock, and forces himself inside your cunt.

As expected, he’s too big. Your walls stretch around him, barely able to endure his width, and he fills you to the brim length-wise with inches to spare. Regardless of the strain he certainly feels, he doesn’t give you time to adjust. He closes his strong arms over your legs, pressing your skin to his as he pounds his cock into you over and over. You’re afraid something will rip with every thrust.

Your chest rises and falls quickly, and the other two can’t look away from your bouncing breasts. The blonde bites the inside of his cheek as he flicks one nipple and calls his friend over to join. They’re twisting and tweaking the sensitive nubs and there’s nothing you can do. Except…

“Ow! You bitch!”

The blonde lifts his hand from your mouth and slaps you across your cheek.

“She fucking bit me!” he yells.

Chan doesn’t seem to care; he keeps driving in and out of you at the same unrelenting pace. But the other two have rage in their eyes.

“You wanna play rough? We can play rough, sweetheart,” the formerly quiet one says.

He lowers his head to your chest and bites down hard — almost cruelly — on the skin of your breast. He pulls back to examine his work and appears unsatisfied. He goes in for another, and this time, he draws blood.

“Fuck you! What the fuck!” you cry out.

“Dude…” the blonde whispers.

“What?! She doesn’t get to bite you and…” the dark-haired one argues.

“No, I mean… that’s so hot,” his friend clarifies.

It’s the blonde’s turn, and he goes straight for your nipple. He closes his teeth roughly, though not as hard as the bite before, and you whine in pain again.

“Pieces of shit!” you yell. “Get the fuck off of me!”

“Yeah, get off her,” Chan pants. “I have more work to do here if you’re making her scream before I do.”

He releases his hold on your legs and grabs your hips, inclining your lower body up and off the bed. His first thrust at this new angle makes you shudder, and he knows he’s got you now.

He sinks into you again, and you can’t hold back the loud, breathy moan that escapes your lips. Your wrists are starting to feel raw from the handcuffs, and your chest is sore and bruised from all three of them.

You’re in so much pain, but drowning in pleasure, too. The hot tears on your cheeks could be from either or neither or both. Who fucking knows.

“That’s it, baby,” Chan moans. “Cry for me, scream my name.”

“Fuck… Chan,” you whine, getting closer and closer to your climax.

A triumphant smile on his face, Chan nods at the others to return to their positions. They each take a nipple in their mouths, sucking more gently this time — though their gentle is still enough to slurp up a whole drink in one go.

Chan’s thrusts are growing weaker and weaker now, his power draining. He presses a thumb down into your clit hoping it will finish the job.

“Oh my FUCKING… fuck… Chan… CHAN… I… aahh-”

You’re coming on his cock with a force that makes his head spin, and he can’t help but finish deep inside you, too.

There are moans all around — two in ecstasy, two in disappointment. The onlookers detach their lips from your chest and sit on the sides of the bed while the two of you ride out your orgasms.

“Are you fucking serious, Chan?” the blonde asks incredulously and throws his hands up. “You said we were gonna all get a turn before she was spent.”

The dark-haired one keeps his mouth shut, opting to cross his arms over his chest and brood silently once again instead.

Chan pulls out and topples down next to you on the bed. He’s turned to face you, but your eyes are trained on the light fixture above the bed, watching the way the bulb flickers and sparkles. Or is that just in your head?

“Don’t worry boys,” Chan speaks up. “We have all night, and she’s tight as fuck.”

“Yeah, but now you two are gonna nap and we’re still hard,” the blonde whimpers. His face looks so cute when he pouts.

“Then take a nap with us, or suck each other off, whatever,” Chan lazily replies.

The two glance at each other with raised brows, and there’s some other undertone there too. But you’re too lightheaded to care.

Their voices blur together as the room darkens, but you can feel a firm thigh and thick arm lay across your body. Whether you’re being cuddled or trapped isn’t important right now, and you let yourself drift off.

370 notes · View notes

whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

💧 I can’t stop thinking about tasting your skin… 💧

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: 75% smut, 24% fluff, 1% my tears

✎ Summary: A lazy day spent in bed gets a little heated.

✎ CW: Established relationship, breast worship, nipple play, hickeys

✎ Word count: 1,303

✩ Ty anon for the inspo! ✩

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

Chan twists a thick strand of your hair between his fingers, gazing up at his movements with weary eyes.

You’ve spent most of this rare obligation-free day in bed, you on your Switch and him on his phone. Morning bled into noon, and you’ve only dragged yourselves out from under the sheets for bathroom breaks or snack replenishment.

Your boyfriend gave up on doom scrolling about 10 minutes ago. His phone now lies face-down on your stomach, and his head rests on your chest. He’s humming some new tune you haven’t heard before. Even on his days off, that beautiful brain of his never stops working.

He opens his fingers and drops your hair, opting to fiddle with the scooped collar of your shirt instead. He passes some time running the cotton between his pointer finger and thumb while you begin a new day in Stardew Valley.

Eventually, he reaches down to cup a breast over your shirt. He slowly rolls it in his big hand, but not in any way that raises alarm. It’s a comfort thing; he truly just loves your boobs, and you love that he loves them.

But his fingers quickly grow restless, and he starts rolling your half-hard nipple between them. He may not mean it in an amorous way, but this can quickly become something else for you.

You release your hold on the Switch to push your glasses higher up the bridge of your nose. They weren’t falling, but it is a good way to stop your brain from paying too much attention to what’s happening on your chest.

The nipple he’s been toying with is fully hard now, and the other is almost there without any contact at all. But you’re only halfway through the virtual day in Pelican Town, and you’ve mined too much rare shit to just close the game here.

Chan’s not worried about that, though. He’s rolling the hard nub between finger and thumb more deliberately now, and a few drops of saliva have fallen from his lips and onto your shirt. He takes a deep breath in and exhales slowly, shakily.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” you ask, removing one hand from the console to rub his scalp.

“Your skin,” he croons.

“Wow, what a line,” you tease. “Quite the charmer, you.”

“Naur, really, I’m serious,” he hums, pulling your shirt’s collar down to rub the top of your breast with his thumb. “I can’t stop thinking about tasting your skin.”

He lifts his head from your chest, ducking out from under your Switch, and turns his body to face you. Chan pulls your shirt further down while his wet, pillowy lips close around your collarbone. His mouth inches down, kiss by kiss, to your now-exposed nipple.

His lips close around you, and he sucks gently. One hand massages the unattended-to breast while the other slides under the bottom of your shirt to graze the skin on your stomach.

Nothing about his actions scream sex — yet. His hips are pressed against your leg, and he’s only slightly hard. But the way he’s caressing your nipple with his tongue is making you question his intentions — and yours.

It’s midnight in your game, and you have to make it home by 2. The added pressure of keeping your cool physically under the virtual time crunch makes this all the more stressful. And exciting.

You tense your legs and press down into the bed. You don’t want to let him know what this is doing to you, but he already does. Of course, he does. He knows your body too well.

Chan separates your legs and kneels between them. You’re almost back to your farm, but now he’s sucking hickeys on your other breast and pinching the already-swollen nipple between his fingers.

Fuck Pelican Town. You hit the power button and toss the Switch somewhere on the bed. You can feel him smile against your skin; he knows he won this time.

You finally allow yourself to give in and feel everything — the wet heat on your chest, the clenching and unclenching of your walls, the fire in your belly. Your hands roughly grip the sheets and your head presses back into the mattress, exposing the delicate flesh beneath your jaw.

He takes the opportunity to suck the soft skin there, and you turn your head to give him more space to play. Your face presses into a pillow and dislodges your glasses, but before you can grip them to readjust, Chan lifts the frames from your temples and leans over you to place them on the nightstand.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll just come closer.”

He sits back and crosses his legs in front of him before pulling you into his lap. Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossed behind his back. He snakes his arms around your waist, too, pulling you into him and angling a nipple back into his mouth.

Chan sucks harder this time, focusing less on his comfort and more on your pleasure. His motions are precise, switching between circling the bud with his tongue and pressing it flat against you. When he’s decided one nipple has had enough, he drags his tongue across your sternum and focuses his attention on the other.

“Gonna make you come with just my tongue, yeah?” he breathes around your areola.

“Uh huh, ok,” you mumble back.

He’s done that a handful of times before, and it blows your mind every time he succeeds. You never thought your breasts were that sensitive, but then again, he could’ve sworn he was an ass man before he met you. Maybe you were just destined to drive each other mad.

Your legs tighten around him, trying their best to get some sort of friction around your crotch. But he’s not giving your pussy any attention today, so the best you can do is grind into his lap and moan into his hair.

His tongue is still hard at work on your chest, and his fingers caress the small of your back. It’s sending tingles all over your body; you can feel his electric touch in your toes.

The fire in your abdomen burns more aggressively now, and your cunt aches for him. Your upper arms press down into his strong shoulders and you pull him closer, fingers tangled in his curls. If only you could keep him here forever…

He starts humming into your chest, the same melody from earlier. The vibration is almost too much to bear, and before you know it, you’re consumed by the flames.

Your head falls back and your chest follows, arching away from Chan. But he doesn’t break contact. His powerful arms keep you close and he keeps licking and sucking until you start to come back down from the high.

“That’s my girl,” he coos, running his fingertips up and down your spine.

He pulls you back into him, pressing your chest flat against his cheek, and holds tight while you tremble and whimper in his arms.

“Shhh, I got you,” he whispers into your skin. “Here, come here, babe.”

Your limbs still locked around him, Chan rotates his lower legs to shift weight to his knees. He carefully maneuvers back toward the head of the bed, only lifting your legs off of him to lie your bodies flat. He settles on his back and pulls your head against his chest this time.

There’s no point in fighting his heavy eyelids. You almost always pass out after orgasms like these, and he’s not opposed to another nap, either. He just entwines your legs in his under the sheets, holds you safely and securely in his arms, and strokes your hair to the rhythm of that new song as you drift off to sleep once again.

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

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So, um- I've been thinking about Chan being obsessed with my breast and sucking on my nipples as he rubs my lower back as I grind against him, moaning and whining under him, and my glasses slip off when he pulls me into his lap and he says as he puts them to side "It's okay babygirl/sweetheart, I'll being my eyes closer"

Yep. Yep!!!!!! YEP!!!!! Brb holy shit

Update: Thank you so much for the idea!! I wear glasses too so this one hurt ☹️

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

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Hey, just wanna say I love your stuff! Hope we can be friends!

Hi!! Tysm truly. 😭 That’s so sweet.

This is really only an outlet for my fucked thoughts, so hmu if you have Instagram and wanna be moots. 😊💕

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

🥃 Guess I’ll have to find something else to do with my mouth… 🥃

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smutty smut smut smut

✎ Summary: Chan did not want to go to karaoke night, but good god is he thankful he did.

✎ CW: !!!Sewerslide joke!!!, drinking, swearing, random hookup, public makeout, oral sex, unprotected sex (please don’t fuck a stranger without a condom), rough sex, nipple play, choking, teensy daddy kink

✎ Word count: 2,804

✩ The song is Lovesick by BANKS, listen if you’d like 😈 ✩

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Ice meets upper lip when Chan throws his glass back to get the last drops of his drink. He hasn’t been working on this one long, but the whiskey’s been watered down by the melting cube — it may have come watered down from the bar, to be honest.

Regardless, it’s his fourth drink and he’s buzzed enough that it doesn’t matter. And on top of that, he’s bored.

“Want another?” Minho shouts over the loud backing track and off-key, wailing vocals.

“Naur, I’m about ready to head out, I think,” Chan yells back.

They swore karaoke night was Tuesday, but apparently, it’s Wednesday. Chan just wanted to go home; Minho convinced him to stick it out. But the lights are too bright and the singers are too drunk and he’s never been more ready to leave a bar in his life.

Minho’s still nursing drink #2 and scanning the room with his dark eyes. It’s the usual crowd, and Chan lost interest in meeting anyone new around the same time that one guy absolutely butchered Someone Like You by Adele. And this rendition of We Don’t Talk About Bruno has him ready to blow his brains out.

“Oi, I’m gonna get some air,” Chan says, gesturing toward the door with his thumb. “Meet me outside when you’re ready to go, yeah?”

Minho nods in reply and turns his attention back to a group of girls huddled by the stage.

Chan pats his friend on the shoulder and heads to the door — and sweet relief for his eyes and ears — skillfully weaving through the crowd as he goes. His hands meet the cold metal of the push bar but pause as soon as he hears it.

“Please call me your baby, baby, baby.”

It’s a new song, a new girl. Your velvety voice quite literally stops him in his tracks.

“Look how long that you have kept me waiting.”

He turns around, almost in a trance, and moves in the direction of that beautiful sound.

“Oh, I know your love before I kissed you.”

Chan joins the crowd circling the stage. He’s not the only one absolutely transfixed right now.

“And now you have only made me miss you.”

It’s not only the way you’re singing, it’s everything about you. The way your long hair drapes over your bare shoulders, the way your hips sway back and forth with the slow beat, the way you’re gripping that microphone…

“Come get me. Come love me, baby, come love me.”

The magnetic pull between you is impossible to fight, and Chan’s pushing through the crowd to get right up to the stage now. It’s not dense, but moving past bodies requires some effort and even more apologies, and he’s not nearly as smooth with it as he was just a minute earlier.

“Ooh, aah, cause I'm lovesick, and I ain't even ashamed.”

His dark eyes travel up your bare legs, and he’s not ashamed either. Any anxiety he would’ve felt in this moment of obvious adoration has been numbed by the alcohol.

Luckily for you, the lights are right in your eyes and you can’t see any of your audience, including the handsome stranger whose gaze is fixed on your thighs.

“And I'm hard up, for some time in your sheets.”

Warm blood rushes to Chan’s cock, filling it up and stretching his jeans in seconds. The thought of you in his sheets…

“Would you be down to spend all your time with me?”

He absolutely would. And he stands there, almost eerily still, for the rest of the song. Head entirely empty of everything but thoughts of the siren in front of him.

“Cause I'm lovesick.”

You finish the song smoothly, but you have no idea how your friends convinced you to get up there in the first place. You’re nowhere near drunk enough for this, and you have every intention of immediately booking it to the bathroom to hide.

Lights dim as you take a tiny bow and step off the platform. You set off on a clear path to the restrooms before a big, broad stranger cuts you off.

His coffee-flavored eyes are wide and his lower lip is clenched between his teeth, and he just stares at you. It’s so intense, and if he weren’t possibly the most beautiful human you’d ever laid eyes on, it would be incredibly unsettling.

“Uh, excuse me…” you say, attempting to walk around him. But he grabs your wrist.

“I’m sorry, I… uh,” he stutters, staring down at your hands. Even he’s surprised at his urgency. What the fuck is he doing?

“I’m so sorry. I’m Chan,” he says, his firm grip on your arm disappearing before he continues. “You were, you are… wow.”

Eyes meet again, and his cheeks are flushed. But after that performance — and whatever the hell this is — yours are, too.

“Oh, thanks. I’m y/n,” you reply, finishing just before the next singer starts his assault on your ear drums.

You both wince, and his big lips turn down into a scowl. But his expression softens again when he not-so-slyly glances down to your chest and back up.

“You’re really beautiful, you know?” he asks, his husky voice straining to be heard over the music. “You here alone?”

Chan’s trying his best to feign confidence, but his heart is pounding. He hasn’t done anything like this in so long and you’re so sexy and he’s so… dizzy.

“Wow, straightforward, huh? I’m with friends,” you say, gesturing over to the huddle of girls by the bar, ready to pounce at the slightest signal of distress. “Very protective friends, clearly.”

“I can see that,” Chan answers. He rotates his hand in a small wave, but their expressions don’t change. No points to be won there. He’ll have to charm you on his own. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I don’t think you need another, honestly,” you say with a smirk. And you’re right. He’s speeding down the highway, two miles past tipsy and about to get off at drunk. But he’s also at his most confident. And that means he can say something sober Chan would never.

“Hm, you may be right. Guess I’ll have to find something else to do with my mouth.”

Your eyes narrow at him. He has this dumb smug look on his face while he waits for your reaction. The smirk only depends as more seconds pass.

“I guess I can get that drink at yours?”

Bingo.

“Shall we?”

Three texts, two attempts at calling an Uber, and one sloppy backseat saliva-sharing grope session later, you’re stumbling over each other up the stairs to Chan’s apartment.

Your hands haven’t left his body since you got in that Uber, and the same goes for his. Now you’re pulling at his hair, his shirt, his neck — anything to keep your mouths attached and get closer to privacy, to a socially acceptable place to be this feral.

Feet finally reach flat flooring and you shuffle to Chan’s apartment door. He has no clue where his keys are right now but he doesn’t particularly care. He’s focused on trapping your body between the door and him, pressing his palms into the wood and pushing his thigh between your legs.

Lips are past swollen at this point, and he’s focusing on your neck now, sucking and biting any spots that aren’t already coated in his spit. However many hickeys he’s already left on the delicate skin there — it’s not enough. And there aren’t nearly enough on your chest.

So, he heads there next, fondling one breast over your dress and nipping at your collarbones. Even if you’re only his for tonight, he’ll make sure you remember him every time you glance at your reflection for the next week.

One of your hands runs through his dark curls and the other grips the doorknob, trying to will it open. Keys are still an afterthought, though. His unoccupied hand is headed under your dress, between your legs.

He presses four fingers flat against you, and your head tips back against the door with a thud. He’s happy to discover that your panties are soaked through, and he can’t wait much longer to taste you.

If you two don’t tumble through that doorway soon, he’ll just have to take you right here in the hallway. But he’d prefer to have you laid flat, spread open, and writhing on his kitchen table. Time to find those keys.

Fingers fumble through his pockets, and of course he finds everything but what he needs. Phone, ID, cards, receipts, a condom, and more fall to the floor in his frantic search. Then, finally, keys. Fuck it, he’ll get the other shit later.

He makes quick work of unlocking the door and twisting the knob. The weight of your body pushes it open, and his hands reflexively go to your waist to keep you upright as you make your way to the table.

Chan swipes the miscellaneous papers and dishes to the floor and lifts you onto the cold wood. Lips reattach and he reaches for your pussy, slipping his fingers under the wet fabric to feel your folds.

You relax into his touch and slide your hips closer to the edge of the table. He drops to his knees and pulls you forward that extra inch to yank your underwear down your legs and onto the floor.

He sloppily sucks on your inner thighs, leaving a trail of red, swollen flesh on his way to your cunt. Once he gets there, he spits on you and dives right in to taste the combination of liquids on your sensitive skin.

Chan’s plump, pink lips are slick and saliva runs down his chin while he spreads your folds and dips in and out of you, savoring the flavor on his taste buds.

He locates your clit and prods it with a pointed tongue before flitting up and down. He alternates between targeting the sensitive bud to elicit more nectar out of you and lapping at your folds to indulge in the results of his hard work.

Chan has every intention of making you come with just his mouth, and the way you’re gripping the table and trembling and moaning makes him think that’s happening soon. And like clockwork…

“Hey, I’m… gonna…” you pant, trying your best to speak between breaths.

He doesn’t reply. He only grips your ass cheeks harder and buries his face further into you, and that’s enough.

Walls flutter around his tongue as you hit your climax, and you cry out loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He suctions his mouth against you to catch any additional arousal you have to give. It’s so sweet and tart, and he truly cannot get enough.

Your supporting arms give out and you collapse onto the table, satisfied and twitching from the aftershocks. Oh, but he’s not done with you. Not by a long shot.

Chan unzips his pants and reaches under his boxers to play with his thick cock. This is exactly what he pictured when he first laid eyes on you. Head thrown back, chest rapidly rising and falling, thighs parted, cunt dripping. What a beautiful sight.

“You want my cock, baby?” he asks, still stroking himself behind the fabric. He loves the reveal, so he’ll keep his length hidden for now.

You lift your head and lock onto his eyes.

“Please, show me.”

“I don’t know if you can handle it,” he teases.

You scoff at that pretentious shit.

“Try me, daddy.”

“As you wish, baby girl.”

He drops his underwear and unveils his veiny erection. It is impressive, but it’s even better that he knows how to use it.

His hands grip your hips, and he pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. He can’t hold back a throaty moan the first time his whole cock disappears inside you. It feels so fucking good, he forgets where he is for a second.

“Fuck me,” you hiss.

And then he’s back on Earth, pounding in and out of you at an unrelenting pace. Your legs wrap around his hips and your back arches off the table as you shudder beneath him.

Chan reaches for the straps of your dress, pulling one then the other down over your shoulders. He works the fabric down past your chest, freeing your breasts to bounce up and down with each thrust.

“Fuck…” he groans. How the hell are your tits perfect, too? The hardened peaks are just begging to be sucked, bitten, claimed.

He sacrifices a steady rhythm to put his lips on your skin again. His large frame descends so he can catch one taut nipple between his teeth. The bite isn’t too hard, but he’s pulling at the sensitive nub every time he rolls his hips.

You manage to pull enough air into your lungs to speak between moans, but he’s not sure if he heard you correctly.

“Say that again?” he urges.

“Ch-choke me.”

“Oh, fuck. Absolutely,” he growls.

His cock throbs inside you, and if he weren’t so excited about making you come again, he would’ve finished right then and there.

His huge hand engulfs your throat, pressing your neck down into the table.

“Smack me if I’m too rough, ok?” he says.

You respond with a half-hearted thumbs-up, too focused on the fire in your abdomen to think about much else.

He resumes those merciless thrusts in and out of your cunt, closing his hand around your neck just enough as he goes. He has no idea how he’s lasted this long and — as much as it pains him — he has to close his eyes in an effort to hold back his own orgasm until you find yours.

His field of vision is dark, but the sound of his balls slapping against wet flesh is hard to tune out. He can barely catch his breath and you’re whimpering and he can’t do this anymore. Good thing you can’t, either.

“Chan, I’m… don’t stop. Fuck, I’m, ohhh…” you cry.

“Me too. C-cum. Cum for me.”

He tightens his grip on your throat and jerks into you with one last powerful thrust. A choked sob escapes from your tortured throat and your walls clench around his cock, holding him there while he spills himself deep inside you. Your name is the only thing on his lips.

His fingers leave your neck and rest softly on your collarbones. His chest drops, and he lays his head on your breasts to try to catch his breath.

It takes a few minutes for the tremors to stop, but you both recover as best you can. Chan pulls out of you and disappears down the small hallway to get a towel for cleanup. You still haven’t moved when he returns, and a sly smile spreads across his lips.

“Oi, all good down there?” he chirps.

You respond with the same weak thumbs-up from earlier, making him giggle. God, he hopes this isn’t just a one-night stand.

He does his best to clean the mess, wiping his saliva from basically every inch of your skin. The towel can’t do anything for the tiny bruises, though.

Hickeys litter the flesh from your jawline all the way down to your inner thighs. And then there’s the thin outline of his long fingers on your throat. He really did a number on you, and he can only hope you won’t be too mad.

“So, still want that drink?” he asks.

“Hmm, maybe. If you’re up for it,” you mutter.

“Of course, what’s your poison? I have beer, whiskey, scotch, gin…” he says, padding over to his well-stocked alcohol cabinet.

You interrupt before he can reach the end of his list.

“I was thinking of something… else,” you purr.

He turns on his heels to re-route for the fridge, trying to remember what he has in there.

“Sure, like… watuh? Soft drink? Juice?”

He’ll run to the store for whatever it is if it’s not here. He’d do absolutely anything to get you to stay the night.

You don’t reply, and he turns again to meet your eyes. But your gaze is pointed down, aimed directly at his dick. He takes a second to process.

“Wait… you want…” he trails off and instead uses his pointer finger to gesture toward his crotch.

That same sly smile spreads across your lips this time. Jesus Christ.

Rehydration mission abandoned for the time being, he strides back to the table and climbs on top of you, propping himself up with palms placed on either side of your head.

“Ready when you are, baby.”

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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 1 year

Text

🎂 Keep going, baby… I’m sure you’re hungry… 🎂

✎ Pairing: Chan x gender neutral!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: It’s not a special occasion, but Chan does have a special cake for you.

✎ CW: Established relationship, food play, (rough) blow job, general stickiness

✎ Word count: 1,036

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” you call out from the entryway of your apartment.

You drop your purse and kick off your shoes and head to the kitchen for a snack. But once you round the corner, you see your boyfriend standing at the table behind a small cake. His lips are curled into a tiny grin, and it’s clear he’s up to something.

“Uhhh, cake?” you ask. “Happy……. birthaversary?”

You’re 99% sure you didn’t forget any big holiday, but the look on his face is making you nervous.

“Naur, you didn’t forget anything,” he answers, and then that sly smile returns. “Come here.”

You take slow steps toward him, taking in the scene in front of you. The table’s empty except for a lit candle and the cake. White and red frosted flowers frame the plain white top, which gives you no additional information about why it’s there. Chan’s leaning against the table with his hands on the edge of the wood, his body stiff.

You stop on the other side of the table and look him up and down one more time before giving in to intrigue.

“So, we can eat this cake, right? The special occasion isn’t that we have a cake and can’t eat it, right?” you ask, only half joking.

Chan erupts in a fit of giggles but cuts it short once he starts moving too much.

“Naur, we can definitely eat it,” he answers. “You should take the first bite, though.”

“Oh? Ok, then. Should I get a knife?”

“Naur, this is a mouth-only cake.”

Weird, but all right, you’re down. You know to expect these shenanigans now and then.

You lean over the table — maintaining eye contact to watch his expression — and pick up one of the iced roses with your tongue, tossing it back into your mouth. The black of his pupils overtakes almost every speck of deep brown in his irises.

“Keep going, baby,” Chan encourages. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Your jaw drops and you take a bigger bite this time. It’s vanilla, your favorite. He’s still looking down at you expectantly, so you keep going.

“Excited for you to get to the filling,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna love it.”

One eyebrow raises at that comment, but you’re already in too deep, so you just keep digging. Your nose and lips are coated in icing, and regardless of his plan, he better lick you clean once his little scene plays out.

But your next bite feels a little different, and it only takes a few seconds to figure out why. You meet his eyes again to confirm what you already know.

“Surprise…?” he says, his tone somewhere between mischievous and lustful.

You clear the rest of the layer, tossing the clumps of sponge and icing onto the table. A layer of cream is next, and now you can clearly see his cock twitching beneath it. Guess it’s time to try that filling he was talking about.

You flatten your tongue atop your bottom lip and run it across the cake, licking the icing off his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, and his head falls back. His hips make tiny circles, finally free to move after however long he spent trapped under sugar and cream. He deserves a little treat of his own.

You lift your chest off the table and lower to your knees. Your hands and face are coated in icing, but you try your best to look sexy as you duck down and crawl under the table toward Chan. After settling at his feet, you push on his hips to back him away from the table and out of the cake.

His long, thick cock looms above your head, the underside slick with cream and bits of cake. You take care of the densest layers first, starting at the back near his balls and clearing a path to his head. You swirl your tongue around the tip before taking most of him into the wet heat of your mouth.

He sucks in a sharp breath and gently places a hand on the back of your head. His other lifts some icing from your cheek and brings it to his lips for a taste.

“Mmm, so good. Just like that, baby,” he praises. “This feels amazing.”

His sticky fingers move pieces of hair from your face so he can watch the mess of sprinkles and cream and cake and pre-cum and saliva mix as you take him in and out of your mouth. Your own icing-coated hands push into his hips to encourage him to take the lead.

And he does, tightening his grip on your hair to steady you before plunging his cock in deeper and pounding the back of your throat. His breaths are uneven and shallow and you know he’s close.

“F-fuck, baby. Uh, oh, fuck,” he whines. “I’m almost…”

Tears well up and fall down your cheeks, adding salt to the sweet blend. You choking on his cock like this is one of his favorite things, and you try your best to stick it out for him. You want him to come. You need to make him feel good. It’s all you can even think of…

“FUCK!”

One last powerful thrust, and he’s filling your mouth with a mixture of his own. The sweet and bitter combination confuses your taste buds in the best way, and you eagerly swallow all he has to give.

“Holy shit, baby,” he breathes. “Get up here.”

He helps you to your feet and plants his lips on yours, finally adding his saliva to this fucked-up batter. He does his best to clean your face with his tongue, but at this point, a shower may be your only hope.

Chan closes your lips between his one more time and holds you close, resting his forehead on yours.

“Maybe this should be a new holiday, yeah?” he proposes. “Get one of these cakes same day next year?”

“I don’t know how you plan to get to my pussy through a cake, but I’m down to try if you are.”

He’s giggling again and brushing your sticky noses together.

“I’m sure I can figure it out.”

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