Synopsis: To celebrate your wedding anniversary, Chris sends a special package filled with naughty surprises to set your marriage life on fire. (6,8k words)
Author's note: Be careful, it's hot 🔥🔥🔥
After three years of marriage, you and Chris have found a rhythm that’s equal parts comfort and passion. He still kisses your temple in the mornings when he slips out of bed before you, still sends you random texts throughout the day just to tell you he loves you, still looks at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on. But being married doesn’t mean things don’t shift—your careers, your schedules, the constant grind of life. The spark never died, but sometimes it needed a little more fuel to burn as wildly as it used to.
That’s why anniversaries with Chris have always been more than a date on the calendar. They’re his excuse to surprise you—sometimes with a weekend getaway, sometimes with an elaborate dinner, and sometimes, with something far less traditional.
This year, the surprise comes in the form of a plain brown package left on your doorstep. No return address, but you know that handwriting on the little white note taped to the box instantly—it’s Chris’s, bold and unmistakably his.
Curious, you tear it open, and inside you find neatly folded clothes: a crisp white blouse, a dark pencil skirt, and a pair of sleek reading glasses. Nestled on top, the note.
"Looking for an English tutor this Friday, 8 p.m."
The words make your lips curl into a slow, incredulous smile. Trust Chris to turn your third wedding anniversary into something that promises to be anything but ordinary.
-
Friday night arrives, and instead of the usual anniversary dinner reservations, you find yourself standing in front of your own bedroom door—heart beating a little faster, lips painted a touch darker, blouse buttoned just tight enough to pull against your chest. The pencil skirt hugs your hips, restricting your steps just enough to remind you with every move what this night is supposed to be. The reading glasses rest perfectly on the bridge of your nose, completing the picture.
You smooth your blouse down, put on your most professional face, and knock on the door.
There’s a pause, then the sound of Chris shifting inside before the door creaks open. He stands there in casual clothes—black hoodie, sweatpants hanging low on his hips—and his expression instantly morphs into one of boyish shyness that’s far too convincing. His brows furrow as though you’re a stranger at his door.
“Uh… hi?” he says, voice pitched just right, almost nervous.
You clutch the books you brought with you—props for the night, even though he knows you don’t need them—and tip your chin, slipping fully into character.
“Good evening,” you say crisply, lips curving in a polite smile. “I’m your English tutor. You must be Christopher?”
Chris’s mouth twitches, the corner threatening to break into a grin, but he manages to keep his ‘student’ act intact. He steps aside, holding the door open for you, eyes sweeping over you slowly as though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s me.” His voice dips lower on the last word, playful, reverent. “Please… come in.”
You walk in with practiced grace, heels clicking softly against the floor, and set your “lesson materials” down on the table. Chris hovers nearby, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, watching you like he can’t decide whether to play the shy student or just throw you over the desk already.
You sit, cross your legs, and adjust your glasses. “Alright, Christopher. Let’s begin. I hear you’ve been struggling with… vocabulary.” Your tone is clipped, professional—except for the way your lips curve around that last word.
He pulls out the chair across from you but doesn’t sit. Instead, he leans a hip against the table, looking down at you with wide, feigned innocence. “Yeah, I, uh… really need help. Words get kinda hard for me.” His gaze flicks down your blouse, lingers on the hint of lace peeking through the fabric.
“Hard,” he repeats, smirking.
You click your tongue. “Focus, Mr. Bahng.”
You open the book in front of you, ignoring the heat of his stare. “Repeat after me. Discipline.”
Chris swallows, then leans closer, voice lower than necessary. “Discipline.”
“Obedience.”
“Obedience.” His tongue darts across his bottom lip, and you know he’s enjoying this far too much.
“Control.”
The word leaves you in a whisper, and instead of repeating, Chris dips closer until he’s at your ear. “What if I don’t want to?”
Your breath hitches, but you don’t break character. You snap the book shut and rise from your chair slowly, so your body brushes his as you pass. His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring. You circle him like a predator, heels clicking against the floor.
“Then we’ll just have to teach you another way,” you murmur, sliding your glasses down just enough to peer at him over the rim.
Chris lets out a breathless laugh, eyes dark now. “God, you look so hot right now.”
You glare at him. “Excuse me?”
A hand absentmindedly scratches his arm, restraining himself from the urge touching you. “I mean, I think I need a very hands-on lesson.”
You flash him a smirk. “Well, I have just the lesson right here,” you say while fumbling with something under the table, “Please, sit down!”
Chris sits down at the desk now, reluctantly, lips still curled in a smirk but his thighs shifting like he already knows what’s coming. His excitement slightly fades when you pull out a book and slide it toward him.
Your red painted nails tapping the page. “Read from here,” you command, tone clipped, like you’re scolding a student who’s already testing your patience.
He clears his throat and starts to read, voice low, “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy—”
As he starts reading, you get up from your chair and take slow steps to his chair. You step behind him, leaning down so your chest brushes his back. One hand rests innocently on his shoulder while the other trails lower—down his chest, down his stomach, until your fingertips graze the bulge pressing against his sweats.
Chris’s voice falters, stutter breaking through his steady tone. “…the l-lazy dog.”
You smile against his ear, lips brushing his skin as you whisper, “Good boy. Keep going.”
He tries again, but your fingers curl around his growing bulge through the fabric, giving him a slow squeeze. His breath shudders, and the words come out mangled: “The—the q-quick…”
You reward him with a light nibble on his earlobe, tongue flicking over the sensitive skin. He groans, the book slipping slightly in his hands.
When he completely stops reading, lips parting on a frustrated moan, you straighten and click your tongue. “Christopher. Did I say you could stop?”
His head tips back, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you. “I… I can’t concentrate when you—”
“Excuses,” you cut in sharply, tugging the book from his hands and tossing it aside. You grip his chin firmly, forcing him to meet your gaze. “That’s a failing grade.”
His breath hitches, and you see it—the spark of thrill in his eyes at your scolding.
“Get up,” you order, stepping back. When he obeys, you circle him once, inspecting him like prey, and then press a palm to his chest, shoving him back against the wall. “If you can’t focus on the lesson, then I’ll just have to punish you until you learn.”
Chris lets out a shaky laugh, voice low, teasing, “Yes, ma’am…”
Your hand is firm on his chest as you keep him pinned against the wall, glasses sliding a little down the bridge of your nose as you look him over like he’s nothing more than a misbehaving student.
“You were told to read,” you murmur, voice sharp as steel. “Instead, you got distracted.”
Chris swallows hard, chest rising fast under your palm. He opens his mouth to say something, but you silence him with a single raised brow.
“Bend over the desk.”
For a moment, he just stares at you, lips parting with disbelief at how easily you slipped into this role—but then you see it. That twitch in his jaw, that glimmer in his eyes, the way his body obeys before his brain can even catch up. He turns, bends, and rests his hands flat on the desk, waiting.
You step behind him, smoothing your hands over his broad back before sliding lower, cupping his ass through the thin fabric of his sweats. Then you deliver the first slap and the sound echoes in the quiet room.
Chris jolts, hissing between his teeth, fingers tightening against the wood of the desk. You lean down, lips brushing his ear. “Count.”
“O-one…” His voice breaks on the word.
Your hand comes down again—harder, the impact sharp. His hips jerk, but he obeys. “Two.”
Again. Louder this time. His body trembles as he gasps out, “Three.”
You smile, satisfied, rubbing the sting with your palm before striking again. Over and over, until his voice is hoarse from counting, until his skin beneath your hand is hot and flushed.
When you finally stop, he’s panting, sweat dampening his hairline, knuckles white from gripping the desk. Yet he doesn’t move until you give him permission.
“You’ll learn to keep your focus, won’t you, Christopher?” You ask as you run a hand over the round of his ass in soothing rubs.
“Yes, ma’am,” he rasps, voice wrecked, body trembling with both pain and need.
You step back from him, satisfied with the way his body is still trembling from your hand. “Sit,” you command, nodding to the chair in front of the desk.
Chris doesn’t hesitate—he pulls it out and drops into it, spreading his thighs wide, still panting, still needy. His eyes follow you like a starved man as you walk toward him, your heels clicking softly on the floor.
You pick up the book from the desk, flip to the page where he left off, and hold it out to him. “A good student finishes his assignment before earning a reward.”
Chris’s jaw tightens, his chest rising and falling quickly, but he takes the book with trembling hands. You stand beside him, your nails lightly dragging across his shoulders, down the back of his neck.
“Read.”
He clears his throat, voice rough. “Th-the sun… was setting—”
You lean down, lips brushing just behind his ear as you whisper, “Focus.”
Chris squeezes his eyes shut for a second, then tries again. His voice steadies as he makes it through the first sentence, but his breathing falters when your fingers trail along his chest. You smirk, letting your nails tease over his nipple, and he nearly stutters—but this time, he bites down on his lip and keeps going.
By the time he finishes the last line, his knuckles are white from gripping the book. He slams it shut, panting, looking up at you with fire in his eyes. “There. Done.”
You tilt your head, slow smile curling your lips. “Well, look at that. My student actually finished his reading without distraction.” You climb onto his lap, straddling him, and you make a show of unbuttoning your blouse. “You’ve earned your reward.”
Slowly, one by one, you undo the buttons, revealing the lace beneath. Chris swallows hard, his hands hovering by your waist, unsure if he’s allowed to touch.
You lean in, lips brushing his ear. “Go ahead. Touch me.”
That’s all it takes—his hands are instantly on you, warm palms sliding up your stomach before cupping your breasts over the lace. He groans low in his throat, squeezing, kneading, like he’s been waiting for this all night.
“God, I love these,” he whispers, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. You tilt your head back, lips parting in a soft moan, and his mouth immediately finds your chest. He sucks your breast into his mouth through the lace, tugging until the fabric is soaked, then pushes it down to bare you completely.
“Fuck, Chris…” you breathe, fingers threading into his hair as he lavishes your breasts, his tongue swirling, teeth scraping. Each pull of his mouth sends heat pooling low in your stomach, and when his hand sneaks down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against the bulge pressing up against you, you grind down on him shamelessly.
“Mm—keep going, baby,” you whisper, tugging his hair tighter. “Show me how much you want it.”
Chris groans against your skin, voice muffled against your breast. “So much… can’t get enough of you.”
You slide off his lap just as his hands start to roam lower. Chris whines softly at the loss of your weight, his lips still slick from your breast.
“Not so fast,” you murmur, smoothing your blouse and fixing your glasses back into place.
Chris still has that hungry gleam in his eyes, his mouth hanging open, still hungry for more of your taste. His voice is low, a little rough with want when he asks, “Can I have more?”
You smirk, slipping your glasses back on and adjusting your blouse, deliberately buttoning the last button to cover what he’s dying to see again. Slowly, you shake your head.
“No,” you tell him firmly, tilting your chin like a strict tutor. “If you want more, you’ll need to pass the test first.”
His lips part, a mixture of frustration and excitement flashing across his face. “A test?” he repeats, half-laughing, half-breathless.
“That’s right.” Your gaze sharp as you step back and fold your arms under your chest. “If you pass… then maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider giving you what you’re begging for.”
Chris looks at you expectantly, book still in his hands, but you close it with a snap and set it aside on the desk. You hop up to sit on the edge of it, crossing your legs deliberately slow so the hem of your tight pencil skirt rides just a little higher up your thighs. His gaze immediately follows, dark and needy.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” you murmur, adjusting your glasses as if preparing for a serious examination. “This test is oral.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and you can see the flush creep up his neck. “O-Oral?”
“Mhm.” You lean back on your palms, tilting your head. “I’ll ask the questions. You’ll give me the right answers.”
“And if I fail?” His voice is low, already shaky.
Your lips curl into a sly smile. “Then you get punished.”
Chris exhales sharply, his chest rising with anticipation. He’s hanging on every word, every little move you make. So when you slowly extend one of your legs and press the sharp tip of your black heel against his thigh, dragging it lightly upward until it hovers dangerously close to his straining bulge, his breath catches.
“Question one,” you say sweetly, shifting just enough so that the slit of your skirt parts a little, revealing the lace trim of your stocking. His eyes widen. “What part of your tutor’s body do you find most… distracting during lessons?”
He groans, shifting in his seat as your heel presses firmer against him. “That’s not fair…”
“Answer,” you cut in sharply, tilting your foot just enough to graze the shape of his cock through his pants.
His head falls back with a curse before he looks at you again, eyes blazing. “…Your legs.”
You smirk, rewarding him by parting your thighs just slightly, letting him catch the briefest glimpse of what’s under your skirt.
“Good boy,” you purr. “Now for question two…”
You lean forward, facing him with a smirk tugging on your lips. Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips grazing lightly over his nose until it settles under his chin. You tilt his head, forcing him to meet you in the eyes, you swiper your thumb across his plush lips. “Are you a good kisser?”
Chris repeatedly nods and it amuses you how eager he is to please you.
“I need words,” your voice, steady but sharp.
“Yes, I’m a good kisser,” he confidently remarks.
You lean in even closer, your lips ghosting, red lipstick faintly smearing his. “You sound way too confident,” you purr as you gently tug his lower lip between your teeth and pull at it.
Chris’s breath hitches. “Because I know I am.”
You laugh rather sarcastically but then it dies down the second you wrap your hand around his neck and crash your lips against him. You’re catching him off guard that it takes him a while to return your kiss.
The kiss is raw, hungry, filled with nothing but hot, burning desire. You open your mouth to let him taste you and he doesn’t waste time to slip his tongue, getting as much taste of you, kissing you deeper, harder like there’s no tomorrow. You pull away just slightly and Chris hurriedly captures you in a deeper kiss, reluctant to let you go just yet.
For a moment, it goes on just like that. The two of you, trying to claim each other with kisses that by the time you break the kiss, both of you are gasping for air.
“Okay, solid 9,” you steadily say as you lean back on the desk.
Chris is still catching your breath from the kiss with your red lipstick smeared all over his lips and chin when you nudge his bulge poking through the fabric of his sweatpants with the toe of your heels. His breath trembles as his body slumps just slightly lower on his seat.
“Next question, do you like using your hand or your mouth the most?”
His gaze stays on the way your heeled foot rubbing on his clothed bulge as if mesmerized by it so you grab his chin and make him look at you. “Focus on me!”
Chris swallows air while tugging the opening of his shirt, exposing his reddening skin from the heat blooming inside him. “Depends,” he simply answers.
You tilt your head, picking up a pen and playfully tugging the end between your teeth. “Depends on what?”
“Depends on what I’m working with,” he answers, his eyes traveling down the curve of your body and not even try to hide it. He hisses when you press your foot onto his confined heat.
You tilt your head to the other way and run a hand down your chest, stopping on the mound of your breast to give it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s say… you’re working with this,” you mutter, low and sultry.
“Hands, mouth… I can use both,” Chris says rather desperately. His teeth faintly biting his lower lip, wanting.
“You can only choose one,” you say with a little pout.
Chris hisses again but in distress this time, conflicted between the two choices. It feels like a life-or-death situation to him from the way his forehead creases as he thinks hard.
Tired of waiting, you end up making the choice for him. You take both of his hands and put them on your breasts. There’s no resistance from him, you know he’s happy with either choice.
He wastes not another second to fondle on them, squeezing on the flesh, thumbs circling on the hardening nipples. His eyes moving with the way his hands feeling your soft mounds in him.
You softly moan and join him, putting your hand on his, kneading on your breast together. “It fits your hand so well…” you murmur, eyes fluttering from the way he touches you.
Chris heavily breathes and then licks his lips. “Because they were made for me,” he says it so low it’s almost like a whisper.
You look at him and smile, letting him enjoy it for another moment until you deem it’s enough. You take his hands, yanking them away from your breasts. “We’re not done yet.”
You slide forward on the desk, your skirt riding scandalously high. “Question four: Give me three adjectives that describe…” You pause, tapping your lips with your pen before pointing it at your own chest. “…your tutor’s breasts.”
Chris’s eyes dart down immediately, shameless. “Perfect,” he growls. “Soft. Fucking irresistible.”
You hum, biting back a smile, then lean down until your blouse gapes open and his answer proves true. “Two out of three points,” you tease. “You could’ve done better.”
He groans, shifting in his seat like the fabric of his pants is burning him alive.
“Question five,” you continue sweetly, legs crossing at the knee so he gets the briefest flash of lace. “If I told you to use your tongue, what’s the very first thing you’d do with it?”
Chris licks his lips instinctively, eyes blazing. “…Trace it up your thighs,” he admits, voice hoarse, “and stop only when I’m buried between your legs.”
Your core clenches, but you don’t let it show. Instead, you click your tongue and lean back, enjoying the sight of him unraveling. “Full marks,” you praise, dragging your heel across his hard length again just to hear him hiss.
You lean forward until your lips are close to his ear. “Last question, Christopher.”
His whole body goes rigid at the way you purr his name.
“If I told you I was dripping for you right now…” Your hand slips down to toy with the hem of your skirt, pushing it higher. “…would you stay seated like a good student… or fail this test by fucking me on this desk?”
Chris’s breathing is ragged now, sweat beading along his temple. His hands flex on his thighs, every muscle in his body tight with restraint.
“…Fail,” he rasps, voice dark. “I’d fucking fail.”
When he admits he’d “fail,” you lean in closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“Oh, but see…” you whisper, dragging your nails lightly down the front of his shirt, “…that would make you such a bad student. And bad students don’t get rewards.”
Chris groans, his head falling back as though he’s in agony. “Baby, please—”
You silence him instantly with a sharp look over the rim of your glasses. “What did you just call me?”
“…Ma’am,” he corrects, voice hoarse, strained with need.
“Better.” You cross your legs deliberately, tugging your skirt back down to hide the lace he’d been devouring with his eyes. His whole body jerks in protest.
“Now,” you say sweetly, “you’ll stay in that chair, hands on your thighs, until I say otherwise. And if you’re very, very good…” you lean forward, adjusting your blouse so that the top button slips open, “…I might let you have a reward that’s worth all this patience.”
Chris bites his lip hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nods. He looks wrecked already, sweat beading at his temple, pupils blown wide.
You glide off the desk, circling him slowly like a predator testing her prey. Your fingers trail over his broad shoulders, down his arms, ghosting across the bulge straining at his slacks—but never, ever giving him what he wants.
“Obedient boy,” you murmur, lips brushing his jaw before pulling away again. “So eager to please. Do you think you deserve to taste your tutor now?”
“Yes,” Chris growls immediately, too quickly.
You sit on the desk again, one hand sliding slowly up your own thigh under your skirt—watching him, testing him, pushing him right to the breaking point.
“Now…” you murmur, parting your knees ever so slightly, making his eyes snap to the movement, dark and wild. “Why don’t you help me out of these?”
You hook your finger under the lace of your panties, and Chris is already on his knees before you, reverent as his big hands slide them down your thighs. He kisses your skin on the way down, dragging the fabric past your heels, his breath hot and shaky.
“Now, Ma’am?” he asks, voice hoarse, eyes shining like he’s begging for permission.
You tug him forward by his hair until his lips hover over your wet heat. “Yes. But you’re not just licking.” Your voice is sharp, commanding. “You’re going to write. I’ll give you the words, and you’ll spell them out with your tongue against me. Understand?”
Chris groans like the order itself could undo him. “Yes, Ma’am.”
The moment his tongue presses against your cunt, you hiss and fist your hand in his hair. “First word: reward.”
Using his tongue, he traces each letter carefully, slowly, the strokes deliberate. By the time he drags the final d across your clit, your legs tremble around his shoulders.
“Again. Obedience.”
He spells it, messy but determined, tongue moving eagerly, and you’re gasping, rocking against his face. Chris moans against you, lapping up every slick drop like it’s his lifeline.
But soon, he abandons the lesson altogether, tongue flattening, plunging, circling your clit with raw hunger. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you wide open for him as he loses himself in the taste.
“Christopher,” you gasp, tugging at his hair. “Stop. That’s enough—”
He doesn’t. His groans vibrate against your cunt, his tongue working even harder. You try again, sharper this time: “I said stop.”
When he still refuses, you finally push his head back with force, his mouth wet and glistening. His lips are glossy with your essence, his chin dripping, and he licks them clean with a slow, sinful grin.
“Couldn’t help myself,” he admits, smug and utterly wrecked, his eyes locked on yours. “You taste too fucking good.”
Your glare sharpens, though your body is still quivering from what he did. “Disobedient student,” you scold, trying to sound stern. “I should punish you for that.”
Chris only smirks wider, tongue darting out to collect the last trace of you from his lips. “Then maybe you should because I’m not done with you yet.”
Your palm snaps across his jaw—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind him you’re in control. Chris just smirks through it, chest rising and falling as though your anger only feeds him.
“Bed,” you command, voice like steel. “Shirt off. On your back.”
Chris obeys instantly, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, his toned chest and broad shoulders laid out for you like an offering. He stretches out on the bed, arms spread, his smirk never faltering as his eyes track you.
Your heels clicking against the floor as you come closer. Then, with deliberate slowness, you place the sharp point of one heel right at the center of his chest, pressing down until you feel his breath hitch.
He groans low in his throat—not in pain, but in twisted pleasure. “Fuck… you look so hot from down here.”
“You disobedient, greedy boy,” you scold, pressing harder, making his chest rise with the weight of your heel. “You think you get to take whatever you want? That’s not how this works.”
Chris licks his lips, the sight of your skirt hiked up enough to reveal your slick thighs above him making his pupils dilate. Instead of looking repentant, he lifts one hand—slow, careful, testing your patience—and drags it up your calf, over your knee, and then down your thigh.
“You’re dripping,” he rasps, voice wrecked with need, his fingers grazing the edge of your cunt. “Standing over me like this… I can see everything. Fuck. You’re so fucking wet, and it’s all for me, isn’t it?”
Your heel digs in harder, a warning. “You don’t get to touch me unless I say so.”
He groans again, but the grin doesn’t fade. Instead, he keeps rubbing slow, teasing circles on your leg, savoring the view from beneath your heel. His voice is husky, taunting and reverent all at once.
“Punish me all you want… I’ll still die happy like this.”
Chris’s breath comes fast now, his chest straining under the press of your heel. His cock is tenting his pants shamelessly, throbbing against the fabric as he tries to keep his hands in place. His bravado falters, the smirk finally breaking into something rawer—desperation.
“Please…” he pants, eyes blown wide, gaze locked on your cunt hovering just above his face. “Please. I need to feel you. I’ll do anything—just let me have you.”
You tilt your head, savoring the shift in him. The strong, confident man reduced to begging under your heel—it sends a pulse of power straight to your core.
“Anything?” you echo, voice smooth as silk.
“Yes—fuck, yes. I’ll behave, I’ll be good. Just… let me inside you, I can’t take it anymore.” His words tumble out in a rush, his hips twitching upward as if he could fuck the air, his cock straining for release.
You slowly lift your heel from his chest, crouching down over him, fingers trailing over the hard lines of his body until they reach the waistband of his pants. Your smirk matches the one he wore earlier as you lean close enough for your lips to brush his ear.
“So you want to be fucked hard by your tutor?” you whisper, biting down lightly on his lobe.
“Yes.” His voice cracks with urgency, his head snapping in a frantic nod. “God, yes. Please—use me. I want it. I want you.”
Satisfied, you push yourself upright again, your hands sliding to undo his pants. “Stay on your back, hands where I can see them.”
Chris obeys instantly, muscles taut as you peel his pants down his thighs, leaving him bare and fully exposed for you. His cock springs free, flushed red, glistening with precum at the tip that slides down in a needy bead.
You chuckle low in your throat, wrapping your fingers around the base but not stroking—just holding, just teasing, watching him writhe. “Look at you… leaking like a pathetic schoolboy. And you call this control?”
Chris groans, squeezing his eyes shut as his hips buck helplessly at your touch. “Please don’t tease me… I’m so close already, I’ll do anything if you’ll just—”
You cut him off with a squeeze at the base of his cock, halting the release that threatens. “Oh no,” you coo mockingly, dragging your thumb across the precum-dampened tip. “You don’t get to come until I say so. Tonight, you’re mine to play with.”
He whines when you squeeze tighter at the base of his cock, his hips bucking against your hold, but you don’t let him move an inch. You’re perched over his thighs now, blouse still buttoned, skirt riding up your legs as you smirk down at him like he’s your most pitiful student.
“Such a mess already,” you murmur, dragging your thumb slowly across the slit. “All this for your tutor? Do you know how pathetic you look right now?”
“I don’t care,” Chris groans, his voice hoarse. His abs tense as he strains against your order to stay still. “I just need it—fuck, please, just let me come.”
Your laugh is cruel and sweet all at once. “Oh no, sweetheart. You haven’t earned that yet.”
You lean down, brushing your lips against his jaw, letting him think you’ll give him what he wants—then you suddenly release his cock altogether, watching the way his whole body jolts from the denial. His head falls back, a guttural noise breaking out of him.
“Don’t stop, fuck—”
“Quiet,” you snap, and he shuts up instantly, panting hard. You give him a long moment of nothing, letting the ache swell inside him, before you wrap your hand around him again. This time you stroke him—slow, firm pulls that make his thighs tremble.
He’s seconds away, you can feel it in the way his cock twitches violently in your hand, his chest heaving. “I’m—I’m gonna—”
And just before he tips over, you release him again, wiping your hand casually on his stomach.
Chris’s cry is almost pitiful, his fists knotting in the sheets as his cock jerks helplessly in the air. He’s wrecked already, sweat slicking his chest, eyes glassy as he stares at you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive.
“Please,” he begs, his voice breaking, “don’t do that again, I can’t—please, I’ll do anything, just let me finish.”
You straddle him now, hovering above his hips but keeping your skirt tugged down, denying him the sight of your cunt. One hand rests on his chest, pushing him down, the other lightly stroking along the length of his cock—not enough pressure to get him off, just enough to make him twitch.
“Mm,” you hum, feigning thought. “Maybe if you can take a few more tests without failing, I’ll let you have your reward. But if you come without permission…” you dig your nails lightly into his chest, smirking as he shudders, “I’ll punish you harder than before.”
Chris groans, his voice a wrecked whimper. “I’ll be good, I promise. Just—don’t stop touching me, please.”
He is trembling now, his body wound tight like a bowstring, every nerve raw and desperate. His cock is flushed an angry red, precum smeared across his stomach, and still you keep him waiting.
You slide your hand down again, curling your fingers around his length, and he gasps like he’s been starved. You stroke him slowly, deliberately, watching his face contort—eyes squeezing shut, teeth biting his bottom lip, a choked moan spilling from his throat.
“That’s it,” you whisper in his ear, nipping at the shell. “Show me how desperate you are for me.”
His hips jerk up despite your order to stay still. You press harder on his chest with your palm, pinning him flat, and he whimpers. “I can’t—I can’t hold it—”
You tighten your grip around the base again, cutting him off just as his climax threatens to break. His whole body seizes, a cry tearing from his lips, his cock throbbing violently against your hand without release.
“Not yet,” you purr, pulling away entirely. “You’re not allowed to come until I say so.”
Chris’s eyes fly open, glassy and wide, his lips parted as he pants. He looks completely ruined—hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly. His hands fist the sheets so hard his knuckles go white.
“You’re cruel,” he croaks, voice breaking.
You lean down and kiss the corner of his mouth, soft and taunting. “Cruel? No, baby. I’m teaching you discipline. You want your reward, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he gasps, nodding furiously. “God, yes, please, I’ll do anything.”
You slide back, positioning yourself over his cock, letting the heat of your cunt brush against his leaking tip. His entire body jerks at the contact, a strangled moan ripped from his throat.
“Then be good for me,” you murmur, dragging yourself along his length just enough to make him see stars. “Behave, and maybe I’ll finally let you come inside me.”
He obeys. He stays lying flat on his back, chest heaving, his wrists fisting the sheets because he knows better than to touch you without permission. His cock is flushed, angry red, slick with precum from how many times you’ve edged him already. He’s panting, begging softly, “Please… please, I can’t anymore.”
You straddle his thighs, grinding just enough to make him whimper but never enough to push him over. With one hand, you wrap your fingers tight around his length, stroking slow, cruel, dragging your thumb over his tip until he arches up off the bed.
“Eyes on me,” you command, and his watery gaze lifts to yours. His lashes are damp, his lips trembling. He looks so pretty like this—completely undone, desperate, almost crying from how badly he needs it.
“You want to cum, don’t you?” you purr, squeezing just hard enough to make him groan. He nods frantically, voice breaking, “Yes, god, yes—”
But you stop, pulling your hand away. His body jerks like it’s a physical pain, and he lets out a choked sound, almost a sob.
“Not yet,” you scold softly, leaning down so your lips brush his ear. “You’ll cum when I say. Not a second sooner.”
Chris is trembling under you now, his cock twitching helplessly against his stomach. Tears bead in the corners of his eyes, and he lets out a broken laugh through his desperation, “You’re fucking killing me…”
And that’s when you finally smile, sliding down his body, your warm breath fanning over his swollen tip. “No, baby,” you whisper, licking a slow stripe up his length, “I’m about to make you feel alive.”
Seeing how well he’s been obeying you and how you secretly feel bad for making him wait, you finally decide he’s earned it. Sliding up over him, you line yourself against his cock, watching his wide, desperate eyes as you sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside you.
Chris’s head falls back against the pillow with a broken groan, his hands still gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white. His chest rises and falls rapidly, sweat already coating his skin.
“Good boy,” you whisper, cupping his jaw so he looks at you. “You took it so well. Look at you—so full, so perfect for me.”
The praise makes his lips part, another shaky sound falling from him as you start to move, bouncing gently at first, your walls clenching around him in waves. He gasps, tries to buck up into you, but you steady him with your hands on his chest.
“No rushing,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, “I want you to feel every second of this.”
You move at a slow, steady pace, letting him enjoy being inside you while occasionally clenching around him, giving him that tightness he seeks. You can tell he’s enjoying it from the way he’s whimpering and twitching inside you.
“Does it feel good, mmh?” You softly ask while rolling your hips back and forth. “Does it feel good being inside you English tutor?”
Chris is too overwhelmed with pleasure to even compute a word but he manages a nod and a low grunt in answer.
You softly chuckle as you lean down to give him a long peck on the lips. When you’re back to straddling him, you glance down to where your body connected, to where his cock buried deep inside you. You feel aroused from the sight of it, it’s even more arousing as you feel his whole length inside you, hard, full, throbbing for you.
His eyes flutter shut, a tear sliding down his temple as you pick up the pace. You ride him harder, faster, his body trembling beneath yours. You kiss his throat, his damp hairline, whispering against his ear, “You’re doing so good for me. My good, good boy.”
Chris’s whole body tenses beneath you, his voice breaking as he gasps your name. The moment you let him go, his climax tears through him violently, hot release spilling deep inside you as his body arches up off the bed. His cry is muffled against your neck, arms finally wrapping around you like he needs to hold on to survive it.
Tears streak down his cheeks, sweat shining across his chest, his body completely spent. He shudders through the aftershocks, still buried deep inside you, still clinging to you like you’re his anchor.
You stroke his damp hair to the back, kissing his forehead softly. “That’s it, baby… let it all out. You did so well for me.”
Minutes pass before his chest steadies, the storm inside him finally settling. His eyes flutter open, glassy but calmer now, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
You cradle his jaw, tilting his face toward yours. “So,” you tease softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek, “what are you going to say now that I let you fuck me and even cum inside me?”
For a beat, he just blinks up at you, his mouth twitching before a soft chuckle escapes him. His voice is still hoarse when he murmurs, “Thank you, ma’am.”
You laugh, your forehead resting against his as you sweetly mutter, “Such a good boy for me.”
But your smile lingers, and his does too, that playful spark sliding back into his eyes as he adds, “So… can I leave a review for my English tutor?”
You roll your eyes and swat lightly at his chest. “Sure. And what would you rate it?”
Chris smirks despite his exhaustion, his hand sliding lazily down your back. “Five stars. Easily. Best tutor I’ve ever had.” He pauses, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “I’ll definitely book you again… and again… and again.”
You can’t help laughing, pressing a quick kiss to his swollen lips. “You’d better. Because I don’t take students who slack off.”
“Guess I’ll have to study harder then,” he mumbles, his arms tightening around you as sleep starts to tug at him again.
You stay like that, wrapped up in his warmth, your heart full and the air light with laughter—exactly the kind of intimacy that reminds you why, even years into marriage, you’d choose him every time.
-
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the shape of his belly button is perfect for me to lick his stomach and end up swirling my tongue in that delicious navel..... every detail of his body is made of sin and temptation
You hated going over for family events because everything and everyone, was obsessed with one thing and one person only, your husband.
You're family adores chan like he's their own son , if anything they probably love him more than you by now. Chan absolutely LOVES it, he lives for the feeling of being so loved.
Although you're parents didn't know that it's all just an act he puts on. He's known to be the sweetest and kindest man ever, awfully respectful and just such a gentleman.
Finding yourself in your old room now transformed into the kids play area due to having many younger cousins. It was made to keep the children busy while the elders cook and gossip.
Putting away some toys as your baby cousin comes in babbling nonsense. You reach out to hold his little baby hands scoping him up into your arms. Treating him like you're own because of how many kids you had to babysit growing up missing the feeling of having little ones around.
"You have the prettiest eyes ever! Yes you do!" You talk to him in a baby voice as he giggles and plays with your hair. Leaning into his cheek to blow a raspberry against his soft skin. You don't even realize when when chan came in but he's leaning against the door watching this little innocent interaction.
"Ma-Mama!" The little boy says giggling as his little arms try to hug you. "Me? Noo, I not mama silly!" Causing a little frown on his face but soon fading as he smiles from turning to see behind chan stands your aunt. "Mama!" The little boy repeats as you put him down letting him run to her picking him up and apologizing for losing track of him then leaving shortly after.
That's when you see him, with that smirk on his face, leaning against the door arms crossed—blonde hair resting beautifully to almost land on his shoulders. "Mama? Was it?" He says slowly walking up to you, looking at you with that glint in his eyes.
Pulling you by your waist with one hand now resting on your hip. "He's a baby channie, everyone looks the same when you're a toddler." You say not intimidated by him. "What if I make you a mommy, you miss it don't you my love?" Giving him a light push as you try not to act like you desperately want that. "Chan are you insane? Someone could come in and hear you!"
"I'm just saying, if you want that i'll easily give you what you want." He says looking down at you, all you want to do is kiss that smirk off his face to shut him up, although you are tempted this isn't the place to be talking about trying to have a child.
The two of you know sit at the dinner table. You're whole family is here everyone asking about how chan's trips are—how producing works, etc. He loves it so much he's practically getting off on it. "Y/nnie, so lucky to have such a wonderful man like you!" Grandma smiles at chan from across the table, his eyes find hers as his hand now rest on your thigh. "No, not at all if anything, i'm the lucky one." Everyone squealed as shared "awe's" come out and he smiles at you.
His thumb brushing up your dress as his hand travels higher, his thumb rubbing against your clit starting to form a wet patch. You know you can't react—can't say a word even. Shooting a glare at him yet he's to focused on your aunt's story time she's sharing.
"If you excuse me, i'm going to use the restroom." Nobody pays attention just shared nods as they continue to hear the story. Getting up from your chair as you walk into the hall immediately going to close the door, it's stopped. A large hand stops it opening it to let himself in as he locks it.
"Thought you could get away my love?" He says now fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. "Wanted to wait till the dinners over but I kept thinking about your little baby cousin... fuck, just look at me." Looking down with wide eyes his bulge makes you soaked, he looks huge. His hands now locking the door of the bathroom.
Stomach against the cold title of the counter top, breast loose hanging from out your bra as one hand is displayed on one, being used as a squish toy. Your ass getting pounded into from behind as your husband ruts into you making sure you take all of him.
"Mhm, f-fuckkk, what do you think the genders gonna be baby, hope its a girl so she looks just like her mommy." Babbling nonsense like your little cousin into your ear being completely lost in the pleasure of your tight cunt squeezing him like a vice.
"C-Channie.. someone, walk—in!" You say trying to tell him anyone could probably hear or wonder what's taking so long for them to come out and what's going on that requires two people.
"Yet you're still letting me fuck you, now tell me what baby names sound prettier." He groans into your ear his hands now on your neck as he's slamming you down to meet his ruts.
"Ha—gonna give you damn baby, fuck you full of my cum so your mom could be proud, yeah? want to give mom her first grandchild?" His hips making loud claps against your ass, dress lifted to your waist as one leg is splayed up onto the cold marble counter top.
"Yes! C-Channie please!" You say looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror completely fucked out just accepting your fate.
His dick sliding in and out—his cock hitting against your g-spot causing you to moan, loud. His hand comes over to cover your mouth with a harsh grip as he tilts your head up to look at him in the mirror. "Now love, we can't have anyone hear us to stop us do we?" Chan says as you shake your head saying no instantly, you don't want it to stop if anything you're so gone you want him to continue this whole "give you a baby" thing.
Chan does exactly that, pumping into you getting harder ever second because of how tight your clenching down onto him about to reach your climax. "C-Channie... so-so close!" You try to protest against his palm, droll dropping down from your lips down to your chin. He loves it, his movements turn impossibly slow yet ramming into you with such force.
You're body hitting against the counter with every thrust. "Such a little slut, so beautiful like this," Leaning down to your ear as he groans into you. "Letting your husband fuck you in the family bathroom. thrust, thrust. look so, fuck'n pretty with that baby-"
Whimpering against his hold, you feel his arm that was placed on your hip he was using to meet his thrust—wrap around your waist to trail his slender, thick, veiny hands to reach down and rub your clit. Chan's pace picks up on his digits along with thrust, you feel like you're in the clouds at this point. Your hand grips onto his wrist needing something—anything, to keep you grounded absolutely dumb in his hold.
"Ah- G-Gonna... c-cum! Channie—yes!" He smiles against your neck still whispering dirty little words. "Cum baby, you've been such a good little wife, now milk my fucking cock." His words ripped the climax out of you completely coating your husband's dick and your the cum trailing down your thighs.
Now rutting against you trying to reach his own, you thrust back against him. Chan looks somewhat different now instead of being lustfull he's looking at you with love in his eyes. "Let me give you a baby, my beautiful girl just thinking about you with my baby—fuck driving me insane." "Please, please let me fill you up my love," His words hitting you over and over like a train how could you deny him when he asks so nicely?
"Yes, Chan, please-!" Thrusting in once, then twice more, then another your body completely pinned to the counter now breast hitting the cold sink. "Yeah? F-Fuck, you're gonna talk all I give you?" With that you continued to push back against him milking him of his own relase, hands in a bruising grip on your hips now as he watches his dick slide in and out from your ass as a ring of cum forms on his base.
If you're puddle wasn't enough—you're husband's load was too much. The squirts of cum landing on the floor—and onto the pants he had pulled down just enough to free himself. Shared grunts along with pants leave the both of you, he's still rutting into you. "Don't waste a drop, take it all just like you said."
-
Now? It's your baby shower, yet not lifting a finger for anything as you have your family doing everything for you. Smiling watching how beautiful it came out as a pair of strong arms wrap around to rest your round belly—kissing the back of your head. "Told you, just as pretty as I pictured with this belly full of me." He says turning you around with a delicate spin. "Chan!" You say swatting his shoulder as he pulls you in for a kiss. "I know she's gonna be beautiful like her mommy."
cws: smut, public sex, unprotected sex, mentions of alcohol consumption
word count: 1574
summary: Bang Chan joins you on a concert, in the middle of the crowd you get closer than anticipated
a/n: I’ve written this in like 12 hours, idk what happened. This oneshot is part of a series, go check it out!
Chris was a lightweight when it came to alcohol and he usually didn’t drink at all. You knew that.
But he did a few shots with you either way to loosen up a bit. He was in the crowd with you at your second favorite band’s concert with sunglasses and a cap, the purple hair only slightly peeking out. He had feared someone would recognize him and ruin your experience, he even refused to go with you at first, but you wanted him to be at your side.
Or well, behind you, in this scenario.
Luckily, no one looked at him up too close, because you were sure a Stay would definitely still know who he was. Even if some fans were around, they probably didn’t pay too much attention or just wanted him to have a normal night out with his girlfriend.
“You okay?”, he asked after a song ended, hands on your shoulders to gently rub you there.
It’s been a long day for both of you, so you appreciated his concern.
“Yeah, what about you?”.
“I’m good”, he answered.
You stood so close to each other, it was pretty obvious - he had an erection.
“I think you’re more than good, right?”, you answered, proving your point by moving your hips.
His hands immediately flew to your waist and squeezed you there to stop you. Chris sighed deeply, you could feel his breath against your neck.
“It’s not my fault. You rub your ass against me when you’re dancing, that’s on you”, he hissed.
It hadn’t been your intention to work him up this much, just wanting to tease him, but you had to admit that it was kind of intriguing. Before you could even register it, your hand moved behind you to palm his hard cock through his pants.
His sigh turned into a grunt, his nose was very close to your ear now, nuzzling behind it.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game, baby”.
“Why?”, you asked innocently, continuing your massage.
The band began the next song, so no one could overhear your conversation any more. He began to slightly move against you, rocking his hips against you in a way you could see as dancing from any point of view.
“Because I’m very close to fuck you right here in the middle of this crowd”.
You felt very hot, these words definitely sparked something inside of you. Desire, you wanted him badly. And you literally felt that he thought the same. This was already too much, just feeling how hard he was before you even properly touched him had your brain show you very lewd imaginary scenarios.
“I would let you”, you snickered.
“Fuck, don’t say things like that”.
The people around you started hopping and jumping, everyone bumping into each other, so his movements looked even more natural.
“Afraid we gonna get caught?”, you removed your hand again, swaying with him, “I can already see the headlines. Stray Kids Bang Chan caught in flagrante with girlfriend at a concert”.
He chuckled, grinding into your ass a bit harder, more aggressive.
“It’s not that- fuck- I’m more afraid I might actually consider it. You’re literally seducing me here”.
His hands wandered, fingertips touching your legs right where your flimsy skirt ended. The skin on skin contact let your body form goosebumps all over, even if it was such a simple touch. You shivered and trembled in his arms.
“So responsive”, his lips touched your neck for a second, making you arch your spine immediately, “Would you even manage to keep quiet?”.
You felt your heart rate peak, adrenaline pumping through your body even though nothing had happened yet. Your top was glued to your skin, with all these people around you the hall had been filled with nothing but hot air and with him whispering those words into your ear, you were heavily sweating.
“Only one way to find out”, you answered.
With his arm wrapping around you, his hand kept going and sneaked under your skirt. The sound he made when he found you absolutely drenched was straight out of heaven - a sweet mix of a grunt and a whine. Needy and desperate to touch you even though it was so inappropriate.
The tip of his middle finger rubbed over your panties, right where your clit was. You gasped, already noticing how sensitive you were, how your nerves lit your body and your blood on fire.
You did not only want him, you needed him. Your whole being was so devoted to him it almost hurt. You needed him inside you. Now.
“Chris~” you cooed, the current song ending again, “Please fuck me”.
He groaned right against your neck, his hands vanishing. He waited for the next notes to start and tried to pull down his pants very quietly and without anyone noticing. You shielded him pretty much, the fabric of your skirt was layered and hid most of him when he pulled his cock out and hid it underneath.
This experience was probably ruining you, this was exciting and something you had never done before. Maybe it was because both of you were a bit tipsy, maybe you shouldn’t have drank alcohol before attending this concert. But still, you let him shove your panties aside slowly, fingers searching for your entrance to guide his dick inside.
Your breath hitched when his head got caught in the rim, you wanted to moan but you quickly bit your tongue. Chris hissed behind you, pushing forward agonizingly slow. Big hands were on your hips again, almost pulling you back to him for leverage. Both of you were afraid anyone would make a sound if he would go any faster so he remained with his tortuous pace.
He forced his dick in without preparation inch by inch but well, it hadn’t been possible for him to prepare you in any way and you probably still had to struggle to accommodate to his girth either way.
“Thaaat’s it, love. You’re taking me so well”, he gasped, finally bottoming out.
He stayed like this, breathing heavily. But you were no better. You wanted to hold onto somewhere but in the middle of a crowd like this, you obviously found nothing.
The first few thrusts were just a mess of needy grinding into you. His hands trembled, Chris was literally vibrating by fighting the urge to touch you everywhere his hands would reach. He held himself back for the sake of staying under the radar.
Then he started to move in and out of you in the rhythm of the music that was played right now. You just hoped it looked like the two of you were dancing because there was no way you could stop right now.
The thrill of having sex in public like this was spurring you on, your brain blurring your surroundings as if they were really unnecessary right now. Chris’ dick was twitching inside you, bumping into your cervix with every thrust. He got bolder with every passing second, fucking you harder as if there weren’t hundreds of people around you.
“Chris-“, it took every remaining ounce of your self control to speak out, especially without moaning, “Stop, go slower-“.
“I can’t”, he slurred, “Need you”.
Every thrust was sending electric shocks from your brain down your spine to your pussy, it was too much to bear. Your brain was useless by now, you couldn’t think straight.
“You gonna cum, love?”, his accent was heavy, “I can feel it”.
His hand pressed on your lower stomach, only enhancing your pleasure. You wheezed while trying to swallow down the upcoming moans, your head tingled.
But you couldn’t, your body was seizing with another thrust and you squeezed your mouth shut with your own hand just in time while your cunt clenched around him. His fingers bruised you, his grip so rough as soon as he also reached his high. The stimulation of your walls made him stumble over the edge as well.
He muffled his own sounds with your lips pressed against your neck, you could feel the vibrations of his deep growl on your skin. Chris rutted his hips into you, cumming deep inside.
His growl very soon turned into overstimulated whimpers, but he stayed like this to keep the illusion up. His grip not that possessive and harsh anymore, he was grabbing you with a desperate urgency.
“I can’t believe- fuck”, he whispered.
You felt it too, your after orgasm clearance washing over you and letting your face flush in a deep red. Did you just really.. had sex in the open? You heard your heartbeat in your ears, the blood rushing through your veins.
“Not that I didn’t like it, but.. let’s not do that again”.
When his dick softened a bit, he tucked himself back in after making sure nobody was looking directly into his direction. His fingers smoothed down the fabric of your skirt, but he lingered there a bit too long. He silently gave it away in an instant.
“We both know that wasn’t the last time”, you sighed.
You felt kinda nasty, his cum soaking the fabric of your underwear even more. But damn, you still felt the last bits of endorphins, although you were kind of embarrassed. With a grin on your lips, you actually debated if it would be a good idea to ride him in a toilet stall.
cw. best friend's brother!chan, sneaking around behind her back, big dick!chan, breeding wc. 1300 minors dni.
the clock on hayoon's bedside table reads 1.43 a.m. she's been softly snoring for hours, sprawled across her bed in a pile of blankets, but your body buzzes with the kind of quiet anticipation that makes it impossible to fall asleep.
the house is too warm, your borrowed shorts are too small and the glass in your hand is already sweating when you pad into the kitchen. no cold drink can quench your thirst.
you're sipping on your second glass of iced water when the door clicks open.
chan steps inside, leaning a broad shoulder against the refrigerator. his chest is barely covered by a black tank and your gaze dips down to the chain around his neck and back up to his damp curls, finally landing on his eyes. they crinkle in a soft smile. the sight of his familiar dimples makes your chest ache.
"can't sleep?" his voice is rough, tired but amused. "me neither."
you stammer a half-hearted excuse about being thirsty, even though you both know there's a bathroom next to hayoon's bedroom. his eyes drag over you slowly — bare legs, flimsy shirt, no bra — before meeting yours again. he doesn't look away.
"right," he mutters, stepping closer. "she's asleep?"
you nod, throat tight.
he crowds into the kitchen to grab a glass and you suddenly feel cornered. his palm plants on the surface beside your hip, pressing your back into the counter, boxing you in.
"you know it's dangerous, walking around like this," he says, voice low. his gaze dips down your chest, lingering on the way your nipples pebble under the cotton. "tiny shorts, no bra… someone might think you're doing it on purpose."
"chan, we shouldn't —"
the soft brush of his lips against your ear cuts you off. "quiet now, baby. don't wake her up. you don't want her to know you've been fooling around with her brother, do you?"
you shake your head, shame burning a hole through your chest, but your hands fist in his tank when his thumb slides up your thigh.
he chuckles. "thought so. been driving me crazy all night, hearing your laugh, knowing you were here. do you know what it's like, baby? trying to keep it cool and not think about how good you feel on my cock?"
you shake your head, your voice coming out shakier than intended. "w-we have to put an end to whatever this is."
"we should," he agrees, dragging his lips over yours until you're gasping into his mouth. "but i don't want to. and neither do you. i can feel it."
your legs part on instinct when he trails his hand higher, cupping your cunt through the thin cotton. he groans into your neck when he feels how soaked you are.
"see? already dripping for me."
you try to speak, to deny it, but he hoists you onto the counter and pulls your shorts aside. two fingers push past your entrance with ease. the stretch makes your head all fuzzy and the words die on your lips.
"look at you, baby." he kisses you hard, fingers curling to find that sweet spot nestled between your walls. "clenching around me like your pussy was made for it. tell me you don't want it. go on."
you can't. every quiet moan betrays you, every twitch of your hips urges him on. you've missed this. you've missed him.
his hand clamps over your mouth when his thumb rolls over your clit. "keep it down," he hisses, "unless you want her to walk in on me fucking you open right on the kitchen counter."
he tugs his sweats down just far enough to free his cock, tip flushed and leaking precum. he smears it against your soaked folds. you whimper into his palm.
"don't worry baby, i'll be gentle."
he never is. there's no time for tenderness in these stolen moments. not like you'd want it any other way — the stretch is just a little too much, the pain lingering for days after. it's what you deserve: a small punishment serving as a reminder of your guilt.
chan pushes the thick head of his cock inside, feeding you inch by inch while you cling to him with your nails digging into his shoulders. he snakes an arm around your waist to pull you closer, forcing you to accommodate his size.
"fuck, c'mon babe, lemme in," he groans, sinking in deeper until he's buried to the hilt. "this tiny cunt's never letting me go, huh?"
your walls are pulsing around his cock, already sore, and he hasn't even moved yet. his weight crushes you against the cabinets, his sweaty skin sticking to yours. your muffled moans vibrate against his palm as he slowly draws his hips back.
the first thrust is obscene; the wet sound of skin on skin too loud for the quiet house, but chan doesn't relent. he fucks you harder, deeper, until your thighs are trembling.
"such a good girl," he pants against your temple. "missed this fucking pussy so much. been fisting my cock ever since you dropped by — shit." he groans as you clench around him, biting down on his bottom lip to muffle the sound. "just a little teasing, don't worry. 'm saving it all for you. gonna breed this pussy, stuff her so full it'll be leaking down your thighs for days."
your muffled cries break through his palm and he laughs. "yeah, you like that, baby? keep squeezing me and you'll get what you want. you're so fucking greedy, aren't you? soaking all over my cock. i feel it dripping down my balls."
your face burns hot with shame but he doesn't slow down, fucking into you with sharp, messy thrusts that jolt your body against the counter. every vein and ridge of his cock drags along your sensitive walls, threatening to snap the tight coil in your tummy.
he pulls his hand from your mouth just to catch your whimper. "say it. tell me you love it."
"i — i can't," you gasp, "you know i can't."
"you can," he bites back, angling his hips to hit that spot that makes you see stars. you sob, back arching into him, and he catches your chin in his grip.
"say it. or i'll pull right out and leave you dripping like the slut you are."
he forces your gaze to his. tears prick your eyes as the words spill out. "i love it — fuck, i love it, chan —"
he looks on the brink of losing himself, pupils blown wide, chasing the tight flutter of your walls.
"there she is. my girl. mine."
his words push you over the edge. your orgasm crashes over you before you can brace for it, sharp and humiliating, and you bite down on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your cries. chan's forehead drops against your neck, hips stuttering as he feels you gush around him.
"fuck, you're milking me — gonna cum —"
and then he's spilling into you, thick ropes of cum flooding deep, his cock twitching inside your spent cunt. his thrusts don't stop, sloppy and relentless, pushing it deeper while you sob and whine at the overstimulation.
"hmpff, channie… 's too much —"
"no, it's perfect." he grinds up into you, "you'll take it. take all of me."
it's somewhere between a command and a plea, the heaviness behind his words hanging in the air between you. his teeth sink into your neck, biting down until you gasp in pain, deep enough to leave a mark. his mark.
your thighs tremble helplessly, his cum leaking down your ass. chan just grins at the mess and the faint, desperate clench of your greedy pussy around him.
"such a good girl," he murmurs, voice soft now. almost kind. his lips brush your ear. "you drive me crazy. can't get enough of this sweet pussy."
his cock twitches inside your sore cunt, already hardening back up. his next words twist the neglected knife in your chest.
"we have a few more hours until she wakes up, baby."
pussy drunk!chan who is absolutely addicted to you. the moment he gets a taste, it’s over for him. he would start all slow and controlled, wanting to savor your reactions. but the second you moan his name or tug at his curls, his self control shatter.
he’s sloppy with it, getting so into it, he doesn’t care about how messy he gets. lips and chin completely covered but he loves it. he practically drowns himself between your thighs, gripping them so tightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.
he gets lost in you, moaning against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. when eventually pulls away for air, his voice is breathless, pupils blown wide. “You taste so fucking good, baby” he groans before diving back in like he’s starved.
he’s always talking between kisses, between long strokes of his tongue. whispering how much he loves this, how good you are for him, how he never wants to stops. when you pull his hair or grind against his face—his nose rubbing hard your clit—he whimpers, low and desperate like he’s the one being ruined.
if you try to push him away when it gets too much, he won’t budge. his arms will lock around your thighs, keeping you there as he murmurs “Just one more, baby…. just one more for me.” but it’s never just one more. once isn’t enough. twice isn’t enough. he could spend the entire night between your thighs and still wants more. he’ll kiss his way back up your body, his lips swollen and voice husky and plead, “again?”
he gets smug when your legs start to shake. he open his eyes briefly to watch as you grab at the sheets, his shoulders, your pillow, at anything you can. he loves watching you fall apart for him, because of him. “That’s it, let me hear you.”
and there’s no way he isn’t turned on while doing this. he gets hard from just eating you out. if he has you on your back, he’s grinding into the mattress, into the sheets. if he’s got you sitting on his face, he’s rutting up into nothing, only feeling the slight shift of his sweatpants when his hips thrust upwards. sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he gets embarrassingly close.
If you ever just grab his hair and hold him there, he’s a goner. his moans get louder. vibrating against your folds. I’m a firm believer in Chan being a pleasure dom. he loves making you feel good, that includes you using him for your pleasure.
I’m also a firm believer in Chan having a praise kink. I feel like he’d rather be praised than degraded. the second you call him good—your good boy, good baby—he loses it. gripping your thighs even harder, pulling you closer and working his tongue even faster to make you come undone. He lives for your praise, and he’ll do anything to earn it.
once he’s finally had enough, he’s pressing soft kissing into your thighs, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you slow your breathing. he’d be so gentle afterwards, holding you close and whispering how perfect you are, how much he loves you. and if you let him, he’s falling asleep with his head still inbetween your thighs, completely spent but happy.
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im gonna hold his mullet and pull his head up. then suck on his neck till its just purple and nothing else. maybe little Bites . lick it and savor it too .
kianamaiart
germansingergirl
titsay
dailybridgerton
2087
jacobvanloon
gummygunk
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
