➥ Stepbrother, Pervs Red Flags in Love, Deranged Sexy
➥ Contains: Down horrendous Christopher agenda™, no I mean so down he has seen the bottom of the Mariana Trench and it's very Caleb of him, “Big Brother is watching you” but quite literally, fic reader!Chris getting jealous of himself (and i find that hilarious), mating press <3, absolute insanity with fluff frosting
⚠ — (Non-exhaustive, full cw policy here): Heavy obsession, breeding kink
➥ He’s a man of few words, but what he says with his actions would make the sickest volume of love poems for you.
*a/n: Well, you've made your choice, and as promised, here's your Aphrodisiac from my exclusive collection. Now you know what happens when I'm on my Derangedtopher bullshit lol
“Why are you always sulking?”
There was a reason why silence was golden, some things were better left unsaid, or every other fancy proverb telling you to just shut the fuck up. And no one could relate to it more than Chris because if he opened his mouth, the things that would come out would be SO unholy that he would get arrested, disowned, and excommunicated all in the same breath.
“I’m not sulking.”
“Said the man, sulking,” you quipped, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Are you mad at me, Chrissy?”
Hhhaaa, don’t…
Mad? Dude was making life decisions based on whatever came out of your mouth, what mad? That was the only way his brain operated. He still remembered that one time in middle school when you were telling him about some upperclassman, a little abashed and clearly crushing. All Chris heard was “soccer” and “so cool”, so he was obviously going to join the team and crush this jerkoff. Metaphorically, of course.
Well, as long as he stayed out of the way…
“I’m not mad.”
“Did I do something to upset you?”
In high school, you jokingly called him a tech god once for fixing your computer, so he had to major in engineering. That troubleshooting session was also when he started to subtly… plant some seeds.
Before you get on your damn high horse, taking cyber bullets for you is not stalking, okay?
It was just a few harmless trackers to check your activity, very legitimate, just so you weren’t prone to any leaks. It was your fault that he had to set up keyloggers for not showing him what you were typing so fervently with hyperfocus. And also to snag a few passwords, but just as a routine security check! You never know what kind of maniacs could be lurking about like vultures, waiting for your weakest moment with limitless patience.
When he found out the aforementioned fervent typing was to depict A LOT OF sex for no goddamn reason, you left him no choice. He simply had to hack your cameras. Plural. On all your devices. Everything with a bluetooth while he was at it.
Who the absolute FUCK was this Chan, and what the hell was this unhinged thirst over him?!!
Look, he wasn’t stupid, okay? Of course you were a grown woman with needs et cetera et cetera, and your panties did taste the best right after you came, but keeping vibrators inside you while writing was pushing it. Sure, he enjoyed watching it like his personal camshow, but still… Just what was it that got you this feral over some rando when he was right there in the next room? His cock, his throat, his entire body was up for grabs however hard you pleased.
A part of him did wish he didn’t know the nightscapes you could paint with your words because each sentence he read was pushing him closer to the point of no return. Just look at this, fucking spectacular taste. Cuffed to your bed and getting your pussy licked all night, crying from overstimulation and still begging for more, face fucked, tits fucked, cum dripping from all your holes so he can lick you clean from head to toe. And a huge load dumped inside you as the grand finale.
He moved from his desk to his bed to get more comfortable, and only then did he notice his raging hard on, screaming at him to fucking do something about it.
You must have been soaking yourself while writing these. How he wished he could be there right under your desk, giving you the perfect reference material. How he wished you would drip into his mouth as he kept teasing your clit for hours, but he would only suck it if you did a good job with the pages you wrote about him. Making him cuff you to your bed, worship you in the nastiest ways possible, and breeding yo—
Not yet. NOT YET!!!
Well… Technically, he could still have it. All he had to do was Ctrl+H the name with his own, and…
OH…
MY…
FUCKING…
GOD!!!
Everything was hitting a thousand times harder now. All of a sudden, he was reading the proof of your unhinged thirst for him. It was him cuffing you to your bed, worshipping you in the nastiest ways possible, and breeding yo—
“Oh, f— YES!!”
That orgasm knocked him out so hard that even after his wits came back, his motor skills didn’t. He just lay there in his bed all limp, cock still slightly pulsating in his hand and cum dripping down his fist, blankly staring at the ceiling as if the answer to 42 was written there. Well, it kinda was.
Because all he could see was you.
People might call it “impulsive”, but he never once regretted a decision he made thanks to you. Schools, careers, life as we know it… Whatever made you see him as a god.
He did feel like a god when he managed to wire the entire house to his phone, but he didn’t necessarily have any interest in smart homes or being able to make coffee from his bedroom. This was all to produce his very own You-ruman Show, and of course, to make life easier for you. When he already knew exactly how you liked to masturbate in the shower, you didn’t need to be bothered with pesky little details like fine-tuning the water pressure of the showerhead. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy your pleasure.
Oh, and think good thoughts of him.
Him in that shirt you liked, for example? The one that made you look at him like that for the first time, smiling at him like all you wanted to do was disrespect the shit out of him. You would have been welcome to. In fact, you really should have. You called his collarbones slutty that day, and yeah, his wardrobe was now entirely made up of similar shirts to flash you, so what?
Fucking sue him.
Just so you know, he loooved being kissed on his slutty collarbones, and just the thought of you dragging your tongue all over h—
Oh god oh fuck oh jesus fucking christ YES.
Could your precious Channie look like this in that shirt, huh?
“No, you’re not upsetting me.”
“Then why won’t you ever smile for me? I know you’re capable of it because Jisung always cracks you up,” you gently held his face. “You’re beautiful when you smile.”
Hhhaaa, FUCKING DON’T!
GODDAMMIT, he wouldn’t be able to hide that smile even if there was a gun to his head now. Direct skin-to-skin contact was established, and honestly? This was straight up cheating on your part. Learn a little sportsmanship, why don’t you?
“Good night, Chris,” you pecked his cheek as a thank you for the smile and left.
AS IF THAT WAS A VERY NORMAL THING TO DO!!!
Fuck, he was about to combust. Fuck, he was going to implode. He just watched you leave with lips parted, one pump away from cumming all over himself. The second your door closed down the hallway, he dashed to his room, hugging the cold wall right behind his bed to cool the fuck down. He could almost feel you beyond the concrete, getting into your bed.
He never told you this, but the feng shui of his room was a lot better after he aligned his bed with yours.
Your kiss was still burning on his skin. It burned so intensely that it was like you lent him your lips for the night. It burned so intensely that he could draw your lips from memory in excruciating detail, then 3D print it. He could feel you all over his cock, kissing, and kissing, and kissing, denying him his release until he sobbed, then ordering him to cum for your own viewing pleasure. God, he would cum so much. He would cum all over your pretty face. He would slather you with himself, but your pussy the most. Those slick folds had to be coated with him at all times; how else was he gonna be able to breed that cunt? That sweet, warm, wet as fuck—
He needed to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before he drilled a hole into that wall and unleashed himself on you.
He forbade himself from leaving the shower premises until he was functional at the bare minimum level. This was the safe space. He could fantasize about you as much as he wanted, cum as many times as he wanted until every single drop was out. Then he could just move on with his life, which just meant getting a few hours of sleep until the struggle started in the morning all over again.
If only he hadn’t noticed your door was slightly ajar while heading back to his room…
He peeked through the door, and his heart swelled in his chest as he watched you sleep. This was wholesome, really. Sprawled all over your bed, you looked so peaceful, so comfortable, so cute… So… beautiful…
So inviting…
So enticing…
Why did he have to be so pathetic? Just why did he have to be this fucking weak for you?
It was as if he wasn’t the one relentlessly pleasuring himself for the better half of an hour, quite literally to prevent this. He was already so hard that the towel around his waist was about to peace out. The soft light on your nightstand cast a perfectly cozy spotlight on you. Your silky hair… Your parted bare legs…
Your…
parted…
legs…
…with–with nothing underneath that tiny gown that barely left anything to imagination…
Oh god oh fuck oh jesus fucking CHRIST!
You had to be performing telekinesis because Chris somehow had NO control over his limbs whatsoever. He just watched himself float to your bed, staring at your pussy, in total and utter disbelief that this wasn’t a very cruel wet dream. Thank you summer days for being exhausting and making it too easy to fall asleep at night. Thank you summer nights for making it too inconvenient to have sheets covering you. His worst daydream. Right in his face. Slightly twitching. Looking as delicious as he always imagined.
FUCK…
…ING…
…DRIP…
…PING…
His heart was beating in his throat when he slithered between your legs. Your scent was already getting him drunk, and he was trying really hard to brace himself for impact, extra careful not to drool all over you and disturb your sleep. Yet the tiniest lick from your clit, and...
FUCK!!!
Oh, this. This was it. This was what heroin addicts felt like. He just wanted to close his eyes and bask in your taste, but he was terrified the singular greatest moment of his life would end way too soon. He glued his eyes on your face and moved very very slowly. Just the tip of his tongue. No sudden moves, no slobber, no heavy breathing, one foot out the door in case of an emergency. But he couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t help it!!!
Just two millimeters below your clit. Just an inch below. Just a bit more to lick into your entrance so he could finally taste you right from the source, and when that first drop landed on his tongue…
OH…
MY…
FUCKING…
GOD!!!
Oh, he was losing it alright. He was totally losing his goddamn mind. Your breathing had already turned a bit heavier, and you were shifting in your place just a measure. Unbeknownst to himself, he kept whispering things into your pussy, and at this rate, he was for sure going to wake you up. He wanted to know if he somehow made it into your subconscious. He wanted to know if he was as messy in your dreams as he was dying to be right now, kissing, sucking, slurping every last drop of you.
Drown him in your slick. Fucking drown him already. Crush him between your legs. One more lick. Just one more. Okay, maybe one more. But one more for the road. One more to last him through the night. One more for the morning. One more for—
He had to get out of his own body to physically unlatch himself from you because otherwise his tongue wasn’t going to be the only thing sliding into that tight hole. Just the thought of it…
God, just the fucking measly thought of it!!!
As soon as he returned to his room, he chucked his towel to the side and grabbed his leaking cock, stroking it so vehemently that it was about to catch on fire. He could still taste you on his tongue. It was real. It was real. The sweetest nectars got nothing on you. The worst kind of drugs got nothing on you. He could die right now, and he could die happy. He was actually so happy that he could die!
Ping!
wife 🫠
u up?
Was he ever down when you were in question?
Listen, you wouldn’t understand, okay? He was a man, so he knew firsthand what sick freaks men could be. Did you think it was a coincidence that he magically had to move overseas the day after he learned you weren’t a virgin? Did you really think he enjoyed the torture of being away from you for fucking months on end? Being close to you without touching you proved to be difficult, but it was still doable. Knowing where the dude lived and trying to keep himself on house arrest, however, was straight up impossible. He was literally forced to go hard or go home.
He chose Sydney.
Tweaking your weirdass sexting app was the only solution for the exile to never happen again. You got your happy endings, and he got to be the only one playing with you through his fake profiles.
Win-motherfucking-win.
He trained himself so he was alert to any notification that may come from you even if it was 4 in the morning, though he wasn’t expecting it right that moment. Was he unintentionally being too loud, or…?
me
for you always
whats up?
cant sleep?
wife 🫠
i just had the weirdest dream
my clit’s still buzzing
kinda need it sucked
FUCK YOU.
He was frothing at the mouth, actually drooling at the mental image. He thought he was physically unable to get any harder than this, but there you were, inducing medical miracles, making his cock stand at attention just because you kinda needed your clit sucked. It hurt so much, but he kinda liked the way it hurt. He kinda wished you’d take responsibility and sit on it, but even if you didn’t, it was okay. Whatever he could get.
Go back to sleep. Fucking go back to sleep so he could come in again. So he could taste you again. So he could make you see the stars.
Make you his.
me
what did you dream about?
wife 🫠
getting the best head of my life
me
and your first instinct was to hit me up? 🥰
wife 🫠
not in the mood for foreplay rn
the clit sucker
get to work
Chris had many accolades under his name, a few of them being international recognition for his work, yet NONE of them had made, was making, or would make him ANY prouder than this. You liked it. You liked it. You fucking liked what he did!
Now come kiss him for a job well done.
He picked your device of choice on the menu and sent a pairing request, which was immediately accepted. As he drew dragged out patterns on the screen, he held his breath to see if he was going to be able to hear it behind him. He couldn’t make out your voice per se, but the faint buzzing sound was there.
He had to be very careful with his edging now so he could cum with you.
wife 🫠
fuck im gonna cum
maxxx it
me
already? 🥰
wife 🫠
this isnt enough
i need to be fucked
like REALLY hard
switch to the bigger one i need more lube
He heard the sound of a drawer open and close behind him. Right after, your door opened, and his heart almost gave out. This was his chance! If he could be quick enough, he could do it. He could do it for real!
He waited until he heard another door close down the hall, then snuck into your room. All the evidence was right here. Your phone was unlocked on your nightstand. Your creamy clit sucker was tossed aside with drops of you still clinging to it. Of course he would indulge in your taste; he wasn’t that crazy. As the final nail in the coffin, a sizable dildo with some lube on it was resting next to an empty lube bottle. He should get you one of these molded after his own cock so you could have him whenever you wanted. You would look so damn pretty fucking yourself with it and what if you came on it and what if you kept going until you begged for the real thing, GOD!
But the violent delusions would have to wait just a little. He had a much more important task at hand.
He was on the very brink as it was, so this was going to be quick. He held his cock in a firm grip and fucked his fist as fast as he could, and just a few moments later, your entire dildo was covered with him. He made sure to spread it all over so you wouldn’t notice, then rushed back to his room.
You know what would go really well with this? Video. That was the reason why picture-in-picture existed anyway, right?
He pulled the live feed from the camera he had installed directly above your bed and waited for you to come back. How come the way you sprawled on that mattress still hadn’t been deemed a work of art was beyond him.
And at long last, there you were. Huge cock dipped in his seed getting closer to your entrance. Closer. Closer.
Closer.
“Do it, baby. Shove that in,” words broke free from his throat without him knowing. “I need it. God, I need it. You have to breed that cunt for me.”
All of a sudden, you stopped and reached for your phone, and…
Ping!
wife 🫠
breed it yourself fucking coward
Chris thought he was having a heart attack.
It all happened so fast, maybe only a matter of seconds, but it felt like hours dragging on. His body went really cold first, then really really hot. He quickly pulled the video feed again, but your bed was empty, and before he could break into a full-blown panic fit, his door abruptly swung open. The sudden spike of adrenaline in his veins was about to send him to the ER, if not his grave. Unless all his screws were finally loose, you were actually in his room, walking to him with firm steps. He was soooo busted, and he knew he was about to have the most mortifying confrontation of his life. Just. Please. Please let him explain. It’s not what you think. It’s not what you think!
Except it was exactly what any sane person would think, but the life-ending screaming never came. He was stunned for an entirely different reason when you climbed on top of him.
“What… W–What are y—? Oh, god…”
“Gotta hand it to you, you have the patience of goddamn monks, Chrissy,” you maniacally widened your eyes, “but I fucking don’t.”
“P–Patie— Ooh…”
“Just how fucking dumb do you think I am?” you scorned, taking his breath away when you started lowering yourself on his cock. “Playing all these games with me. All the staring during dinners, never hugging me, watching me all day every day, pathetically wishing you could hit this when you could have a lot sooner, but what do you do instead?”
WERE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!
As if the amount of life-threatening lust infesting his body wasn’t enough, you pressed your lips on his, hellbent on killing him tonight. But he wouldn’t dare complain. If his death was your wish, he would gladly walk the plank for you and not even blink.
“Am I supposed to believe the slutty collarbones are a coincidence? That you don’t have it fucking bad for me?”
You resurfaced for air for the briefest moment, frantically peppering kisses everywhere you could reach. His lips, his cheeks, his neck, the spot right under his ear… Anything you could get your lips on to memorize what made him moan the hardest.
Could you tell? The answer was his slutty collarbones all along.
“Did you enjoy my shower shows, perv? I know those make you cum the hardest.”
“Hhhaa, don’t stop!!!”
“Shh! Don’t wake mom and dad up,” you covered his mouth in a hurry. “Be a good boy and give me what’s mine now.”
“Y–Yours…”
“Show me how much you need to breed my cunt.”
“Oh, FU—”
“I said quiet!” you hissed at him.
He couldn’t believe it. Not one second of it. His sleep paralysis demon, his reason to live, his one and only, his sister only because of a technicality was offering herself to him. Fully. He watched you sit up straight on top of him in pure awe, and as soon as you put those large hands on your hips, his fingertips immediately sank into your flesh to leave little Chris-shaped souvenirs on your skin.
“Fuck, ride me. Ride me hard. Ride me good, baby, I’ve been craving you my whole fucking life, please…”
“Fuck me like this is our first and only chance,” you lowered yourself again, tugging his bottom lip with your teeth, your smile his favorite kind of deranged. “You either cream my pussy tonight, or…”
Were breeding reflexes a thing by any chance because the way he immediately sat up straight and pulled you under him was freaking impressive. You couldn’t help giggling to yourself since you saw the move coming from yesterday. What yesterday, from last year.
Your legs up, bent as far back as possible, and this fucking lunatic slurping all over your cunt before sitting on you for a flawless press…
“Shh, shh, you can take i— There you go,” his eyes rolled back when he finally bottomed out. “Perfect sleeve. Look how well you take it, jesus, you were made for me…”
“Faster. Y–Yes!” you clung to his shoulders, still trying to whisper through your heavy breathing. “Right there. Right there. Don’t… Chris, don’t you dare stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”
The man was about to surrender his soul, and he was highkey looking forward to it, what stop? He had never felt anything consume his entire existence like this, and nothing could snatch you away from him at this moment. Not until he had you.
Not “fuck”. Have.
“Close?” he reached for your clit and started rubbing it when your breathing got more labored. “You cumming all over my cock could actually fix me right now.”
“Fix you?” you started laughing hysterically. “You’re insane beyond salvation, Bang.”
“And I think it gets you wet,” he dove into your lips again.
That one kiss hit so much harder than being deep inside you, if you could believe it. He had to shove his face into the pillow to suppress his screams so he wouldn’t alert the whole damn neighborhood. The very first wave he rode to the shore of you, and damn if that didn’t last a hot minute. Aftershocks were still washing over him even when his breathing returned to normal, and for the first time in forever, he felt like he could actually get some peace in his sleep.
“From now on,” you pulled his face up from the crook of your neck and took a juicy bite from his lips, “odd days, my room; even days, your room.”
“W–We’re doing this every night?”
“Yeah, is there a problem?”
“No! No, I just…” he averted his eyes, suddenly abashed for no reason at all. “I just… I didn’t think you… You would be…”
“I would be what?”
He was gonna say it. For weeks this was driving him crazy, and don’t get him wrong, he’d be a doormat for you if you wanted. But if there was even the slightest possibility that he would have to visit Sydney again, he had to now.
“Who’s Chan?”
“Huh?”
“You heard me,” he tried his best to sound confident. “Is he like… your boyfriend, or what?”
Well, he was expecting the worst news of his life, but he didn’t expect it in the form of a wheeze. TO HIS FACE. Fine, he was pathetic, he knew that already; did you have to pour a few bags of salt on the wound?
“What’s so goddamn funny?!” he snapped.
“You can solve impossible math problems, yet you still can’t put two and two together,” you finally reemerged from under the sheets once your laughter died down.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s fucking hilarious to watch you be jealous of yourself,” you dabbed the corners of your eyes. “It’s a pseudonym for you, dumbass.”
“I think the fuck not it’s not!”
“Sure, I write about slutty collarbones and veiny hands of some random dude in the stuff that I know you’re gonna read, not because you have them.”
He could cry. No, he was about to cry. No, he was actually crying, and you were endeared out of your mind. You pulled him close and kissed him long and deep. When you looked into his eyes again, he was smiling. He really was so beautiful when he smiled. Even with the damp locks of his tousled hair sticking together, even with his whole body covered in sweat, spit, cum, and very much adorned with the scratch marks you tattooed all over him, he was still the most beautiful thing in the world.
“Do it again. When I’m awake,” you lay on your back and spread your legs wide. “I wanna watch you.”
Say less. He was already heading to his destination halfway through your sentence, and now he could do it the way you truly deserved. Messy, sloppy, not leaving a single inch of your pussy unlicked so he could give you a proper seizure in his mouth. Maybe you would crush him between your legs if he got you sensitive enough.
But right when he was about to trap your clit between his lips, you stopped him.
“And let me hear it when you say it this time.”
Chris looked up at you with huge eyes, and his smile instantly vanished. His heart was thumping so hard in his chest, a little wrenched, a little caressed. He hugged your thighs and kissed them softly, slowly making his way to your pussy. He kissed your lips. He kissed your folds. He kissed your clit. He wrapped a lifetime’s worth of confessions in one deep sigh filled with yearning, blowing all the cash of golden silence on you like it was just some loose change in his pocket.
“I really really fucking love you.”
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to make Chris really really love you.
i wish i was in a place where i could date a man or a woman without people using my relationship to define me as a person. like i’m attracted to the person, not the gender u weirdo.
being back home is so weird too because why am i being overloaded with heterosexual propaganda… i’m more attracted to men when they’re not being forced down my throat.
➥ Contains: Beach!Chris who is sunkissed, wet, and extremely sexy; husband material!Chris who is attentive, skilled in the kitchen, and loverboy galore; dork!Chris who is horny as hell, easily flustered, and canonically flirting. Please see a mental health specialist if you're not down bad for him, thank.
➥ Chris accidentally sees you naked for the first time, and it triples the awkwardness of the family hangout day at the beach.
*a/n: Chapter got out of hand, and i've been dying to update your husband, so we're gonna do the day and night separately <3
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚆𝚎 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝙷𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐
“What’s the occasion, C-Man?” Cadence approached the kitchen island. “You don’t bust the Ramsay moves out of nowhere.”
The aforementioned Ramsay Moves™ was Chris going mad scientist in the kitchen, using unpronounceable spices nobody ever heard of just for an appetizer, and it was usually reserved for grand events like birthdays.
And now, for charming the socks off a crush, apparently.
“Backyard barbecue for dinner,” he answered wearing his focus pout, his eyes glued to the large bowl as he fervently whisked the marinade with a fork.
“If this is to impress that bimbo down the street, I swear to god I’m filing for emancipation and taking the twins with me,” Cadence threatened, her face slowly contorting with disgust.
“First of all, that’s not very nice,” Chris pointed the fork at her. “I’d better not hear you’re calling people mean names like that in the wild.”
“And the second of all?”
“Swell to know my own daughter thinks I’m having a midlife crisis,” he faked a smile with dead eyes.
“I mean… Aren’t you?” she smirked, leaning into the counter.
“You’ll know when I’m actually having it because I’ll pull up in the driveway in a Ferrari Roma,” Chris offered his concluding remarks, but then suddenly realized her wording. “Hold on, the fuck do you mean, aren’t you?!”
“Language, Dad,” she tsked, mimicking his staple scolding. “You’re the one who went on a date with a girl that’s like two seconds older than me.”
“HOW MANY TIMES AM I GONNA SAY IT WASN’T A DATE, CHRIST!”
“That’s not what she says to people,” she shrugged, reaching for one of the cherry tomatoes.
“Sh–She what?” Chris’s whisking came to an abrupt halt. “Where did you even hear that?”
“At the mall. She was telling her plastic Insta model friends how the ‘new zaddy in the neighborhood’ begged to hit that but she said no.”
“THAT IS NOT TRUE, AND IT MAKES ME SOUND LIKE A CREEP!”
“Dad…”
“SHE’S THE ONE THAT CAME ONTO ME! I HAD TO FUCKING WALK HOME, I WAS SO UNCOMFORTABLE!”
“Dad…”
“DID ANYONE ELSE HEAR THIS?!”
“Dad, chill!” Cadence put her hands on his arms. “I took care of it.”
“YOU TOOK— Wait…” Chris turned his volume way down. “Don’t tell me you did something you shouldn’t, no matter the reason.”
“Swell to know my own father thinks I have no impulse control,” she faked a smile with dead eyes. “I just went to their table and told her to stop lying.”
“Except for the launch days of your wishlisted games, your impulse control is just fine, but I also know you. No way that’s all you said,” Chris sternly spoke, crossing his arms over his Pacific chest. “Lying by omission is still lying, Cade. Spill.”
“Oh my god, fine!” she snarled. “I may have caaasually mentioned that if she keeps spreading false rumors, I’ll post videos of her coming to our door every damn day all over social media, and everyone will know it was her that kept begging despite getting curved like six times.”
“What videos?” Chris scowled.
“Ring cam footage,” Cadence wiggled her brows.
“Which we do not have.”
“And she doesn’t know that. It’s called bluffing, C-Man,” she munched on another tomato. “If she even thinks about coming for my family, I’ll go psychological thriller on her ass.”
“You watch your language around me, diabolical young lady,” Chris warned, pointing at her, then wrapped her in a tight embrace, “and I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“Ugh, gross, hugs…” she attempted to escape to absolutely no avail.
“I WILL EXPRESS MY FATHERLY AFFECTION WHENEVER THE HECK I GODDAMN WANT IN THIS HOUSE, AND YOU CAN CRY ABOUT IT!” he aggressively kissed the crown of her head, then finally let her go. “Now, go get ready. We’re going to the beach today…”
“Oh, heck yeah!”
“...with Ryder and his mom.”
“Oh, shoot, I forgot Dad,” she stopped dead in her tracks, instantly backpedaling. “I’m on my period.”
“Stop lying, woman. All our chocolate reserves are perfectly intact,” Chris opened the snack cabinet right over his head and presented the damning evidence. “We’re going.”
“Dad, I d—”
“Then we’re having them over for dinner.”
“URGH!”
As Cadence stomped her way upstairs, Chris promptly got Ramsayblocked when he realized he was out of chili powder. He could go to the supermarket, but why waste all that gas when your house was right across the street? He was just being considerate for the environment; it had nothing to do with dying to see your face again, even though he was literally going to in about an hour.
But he wasn’t insane enough to refuse one more extra instance, so YIPPIE and very much unironically.
He checked his hair by the front door mirror three times, making sure it looked “This? I woke up like this” type of endearing messy, and after wasting a whopping fifteen minutes, he finally managed to leave the house. He took a deep breath like he always did whenever he was by your door and knocked with his signature beat, immediately panicking when no one answered within five seconds. As he was contemplating whether he should call you or not, he spotted Missha behind the frosted glass right beside the door, scratching away and meowing at him in a scolding pitch.
Chris didn’t think it would actually work, but when he pushed the door, it indeed opened. He giggled at the way Missha unleashed herself on his feet, rubbing all over his ankles with loud purrs. There was music playing somewhere, but the TV was turned off, and there wasn’t any movement around.
“Hi! Anybody home?” he called out towards the living room, then crouched to pet the unofficial information desk of the house. “Hey, Missha! Where’s Mom, baby girl?”
Missha slow-blinked at her man twice, then headed towards the stairs, leading him to his intended destination. As Chris made his way up, the sound of music as well as running water grew even louder, and he could also hear some singing to go along with it.
“OH BABY I KNOW YOU LOVE ME JUST WHY–EEE–III–EEE–III DON’T YOU KISS MMMEEEHHH~~?!”
Chris damn near howled with laughter at those exaggerated vocals that sounded like a parody, aggressively endeared when he recognized the tune because that could only mean one thing. Unless you had a lyrics sheet with you in there, which he highly doubted you did, you listened to one of his songs… enough times to… know it by heart.
If it wouldn’t make him the creepiest man alive, he would barge in there to kiss your face off.
“Hey! This is Chris,” he stood before the door, loudly yelling to announce himself.
The sound of running water stopped, but the music and vocals were still fully in session, albeit without an answer from you.
“Oh your eyes are my sunshine paradise~”
“Can you hear me?” Chris gently knocked on the door. “Your front door was open, um… I was wondering if you had any chili p—”
“Oh your taste on my tongue is— JESUS CHRIST!!!”
Nope, that wasn’t part of the lyrics. Seeing Chris right outside your bathroom door like a badly timed manifestation scared the shit out of you, and when you instinctively covered your mouth in shock, your towel decided, “Perfect time to leave the chat.”
HOW TO VANISH FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH, AND STAT!!!
Did this have to happen to you every time you had a devastating crush on someone? Quick 8 a.m. run to the store in bed hair, and they happened to be at the cash register. Post-beach trunk unloading with frizzy hair and salt all over skin, and their jogging route happened to cross right by your driveway.
Showering while yell-singing one of his songs, and he happened to not only hear you but also SEE YOU COMPLETELY NAKED???
Death. A quick and painless one, please.
While you were in the middle of a severe existential crisis in the red corner, Chris was also having one in the blue corner, but for completely different reasons. It was just a glance at your body for less than a second, but he still got so hard so fast that it gave him a headrush. He immediately rushed towards the stairs to give you privacy as if you hadn’t slammed the door in his face, his heart beating crazy fast like it was about to give out.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I swear I didn’t see anything!” he stacked apology on apology, though lying his ass off. “I–I announced myself several times, but… but you didn’t hear me. I uh… I–I just wanted to ask if you had… chili powder.”
“F–Fridge door,” you answered from behind the door in a tiny voice, well on your way to dying of embarrassment. “Bottom shelf.”
“THANK YOU!” he yelled for no reason and bolted downstairs like he was mandated to evacuate the premises in under a minute.
When he opened the fridge, Chris just closed his eyes and stood there for a while to get some cool air. It felt like he was dipping a branding iron into ice-cold water, the way his entire body was burning up from head to toe. He took one deep breath after another, and finally opened his eyes when he heard meowing to his left, finding Missha staring at his crotch with her head tilted.
“Youuu did that on purpose,” he pointed at her, then held her in his arms to kiss her tiny head, talking in tiny whispers just in case. “Thank you, baby girl. I won’t forget this.”
Carefully putting Missha back on the floor, Chris grabbed the entire chili powder jar, bolting back home like he was going to contract flesh-eating bacteria otherwise. Halfway up the stairs to the second floor, he realized he still had the jar in his hand and dashed back down to the kitchen to set it next to the marinade bowl.
THERE WAS NO BLOOD LEFT IN HIS BRAIN, OKAY?
He slammed his bedroom door close and threw himself in the shower, but the cold water cascading down his body wasn’t doing jack shit to soothe him. He held his cock in a tight grip and started stroking himself so fervently that he could start a fire in there if he had some dry branches lying around.
Chris could not remember a time he was this horny for someone, and he just didn’t understand why. Fine, he wasn’t getting serially laid, but he was still… doing regular pipeline maintenance. His urges were still getting sated on some level. If this was an indication that he was in dire need to get some, then shouldn’t his body have reacted this way while having coffee with Lisa? Strictly speaking from a dudebro perspective, she was young, beautiful, openly hitting on him, and when he played dumb to not acknowledge her advances, she had even explicitly invited him to spend the night with her. Yet all he felt was ample amounts of cringe instead of… you know.
But you?
God, the shape of your body… The way your wet hair fell… The way that single drop of water trickled down your neck… All of which were fully legitimate reasons to send him reeling.
But not as much as that tiny kiss mark tattoo right on your hipbone.
It might as well have said “Kiss me here, Chris,” on it; he wanted to kiss it that bad. Did anyone ever kiss it? Did it tickle you when they did? Where else tickled you when kissed? Could you maybe kiss right now?
“Oh, yes. Yes. Cum for me, baby. All over my cock. Show me. Show me how wet you a— Oh fuck. Fuck…”
GOD, what a climax…
He came so hard that he had to bite his fist to stop himself from making any suspicious noises. His knuckles were raw red, almost bleeding in the shape of his teeth marks, and Chris suddenly felt ten pounds lighter. Okay, good, it was at least out of his system now. He could go on with his life as a functional human being.
Except he instantly blushed when he saw you by his car, feeling some dangerous movement around his crotch area again.
FUCK.
As if the kids beefing wasn’t enough, the palpable tension between you had rendered you both completely mute. You were just staring at each other with widened eyes, trying to remember what words were, when you were supposed to be the mediators defusing the tension today. Thank fuck Cadence opened the passenger seat door to settle in the front, automatically assigning you and Ryder to be bookends to the twins in the back.
“Isn’t Missha coming?” Piper asked.
“She doesn’t like water, sweetheart,” you caressed her hair.
“You’re very handsome,” Harper batted her eyelashes at the gentleman to her left. “What’s your name?”
“It’s Ryder, princess,” he smiled like the kind Prince Charming he was. “And you’re Harper, right?”
“How did you know?!”
“Your nose,” he booped her beauty mark. “This is my mom. She told me all about you guys.”
“Daddy, can I please get married to Ryder?”
The ice-cold wind in the car immediately shifted to a balmy breeze when everybody broke into unison laughter. Even Cadence snorted despite maintaining the flawless resting bitch face.
“Ask me again when you’re 50 years old,” Chris answered.
From the moment you got out of the car until you settled down on a spot, Cadence managed to perfectly ignore Ryder’s existence, immediately pulling up a book to read, but thanks to the rambunctious crowd at the beach, the tension was at least not that suffocating. You and Chris shared a look and nodded at each other, signaling the plan was officially afoot.
“You’re coming with me, Grinder,” Chris jumped to his feet. “We’re surfing today.”
“I don’t really—”
“NOPE! Come on.”
As Chris dragged Ryder away, Cadence lowered her book and watched them leave, making a tiny seedling of hope sprout within you.
“Just so you know,” she turned to you, “I will never forgive him.”
Oh, the good ol’ teenage angst… She’d be surprised if she knew what she could forgive, actually.
“Doesn’t it matter at all that he’s genuinely sorry?” you asked her tenderly.
“He shouldn’t have said such a thing whether he knew about my mother or not.”
“Two hundred percent agree!” you concurred, breaking into a cracked smile. “I guess I’m not doing a very good job as his mother, huh?”
Her razor-sharp features softened, and her face fell. You knew that look very well—Ryder looked exactly like this when he was running after Cadence just the other day.
You wondered if she was aware of it at all.
“No, it’s… It’s not you, just…”
She closed her book and put it away, tucking her legs under her.
“I’m… like this because Dad is all I have. Maybe I would have thicker skin if Mom were here,” she divulged out of nowhere, then continued solemnly. “Maybe he should spend more time with his dad while he still can. God knows I would.”
“Nice of you to offer, but he doesn’t have a dad to spend time with,” you countered.
“Oh,” she frowned ever so slightly. “Is–Is he…? Also…?”
“He’s not very involved in our lives.”
“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know,” she lowered her head in embarrassment.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have said such a thing whether you knew about it or not.”
Her eyes widened as her lips parted, clearly panicking, but you couldn’t find it in you to keep up the act past five seconds.
“I’m just messing with you,” you burst into a heartfelt chuckle, “but I believe I made my point. Drink?”
“Yes, please,” she let out a huge sigh of relief while reaching for the ice-cold can.
“Your father told me you really like historical romance books,” you pulled up the first weapon from your arsenal.
“Oh yeah! Thanks for the recs, by the way.”
“What do you like about it so much?”
“I know it’s weird to feel nostalgic about something I never had, but it is what it is. I really admire the pure love in those stories,” she faintly smiled, then blurted nonchalantly before taking a big sip from her drink. “Kids in our class are all about sex.”
THE WHAT IN CLASS ARE WHAT ABOUT— WHAT?!
What did she mean sex when you were BARELY coming to terms with Ryder becoming an adult?! This was supposed to be the ice cream date era and whatnot? They were supposed to discuss which movie to see, and NOT condom brands among themselves?
THIS WAS TOO FUCKING EARLY?!
You were having ‘full-blown existential crisis the sequel’, trying your best to stay calm. You had to learn more from Cadence to make sure she was safe, and your son was not depositing “disowned” credits somewhere, but how were you supposed to do it discreetly?
“I envy your generation, you know,” you opened a drink yourself, cursing at your luck that you didn’t have any hard liquor on you. “It was unimaginable to talk about these things with my father.”
“I mean… My dad’s pretty chill, I guess,” she pursed her lips, “but I can’t imagine myself talking about my sex life with him, either.”
WHAT DID SHE MEAN SEX LIFE?!
Did that mean she had one? Was Chris even aware of this? Did you need to have a talk with him? Would that be crossing a line? Oh god, what should you do?
WHAT SHOULD YOU FUCKING DO?!
“Is there at least… someone in your life you can share these things with?” you carefully broached.
“Well, there is nothing to share. It doesn’t matter anyway,” she shrugged. “I don’t understand what the big deal with virginity is. Guys are never urged to choose their first times carefully.”
While you didn’t have a direct confirmation, you still chose to believe everything was peachy for the sake of your sanity. Once that initial shock finally cleared, you opted not to play any games with her and have an honest conversation. Yes, they were never going to stop being kids in your eyes, but time didn’t exactly have the courtesy to stop for your anxious ass.
They were growing up, no matter how much you hated it.
“That’s because men rarely pay a price if things go south,” you answered the question she didn’t ask.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for starters, if there’s an accidental pregnancy, they are not the ones putting their body through the excruciating pain of giving birth. Still praying for seahorses to become our overlords, of course,” you crossed your fingers. “And unfortunately it is true that ‘bounty collector’ kind of men also walk this earth. Imagine falling for one of those, yet all he wants is another hymen to break. Your personality, your body, not even your name matters to him. You’re just another achievement.” Your smile faded a little more with each sentence. “Or worse, a frat pledge.”
“Is that supposed to be a cautionary tale to scare me?”
“Take that as you will. I’m just sharing the reason why I don’t have someone to co-parent my son with,” you replied. “It’s not because it’s this big deal. We’re just trying to minimize the regret our kids will inevitably experience. That bad taste in your mouth takes years to fade, and it can be pretty damaging to your self-worth.”
Cadence just listened, playing with the tab of the can. Her expression was unreadable; you couldn’t tell if your words were having any sort of influence on her, but mayhaps…? A little nugget? Food for thought somewhere in there?
“All I’m saying is, when and if you decide to be intimate with someone, I hope you choose a partner that won’t be the object of your ‘I shouldn’t have’ sentence. Doesn’t matter if it’s your first time or the nth time,” you concluded the semi-awkward conversation with a genuine wish. “So that sex can always stay as what it should be for you.”
“Which is?”
“Fun. And a fond memory,” you smiled for real this time. “Not something to work through in therapy for years.”
“You’re kinda chill, too, you know,” she smirked through her narrowed eyes, and you barely stopped yourself from kicking your feet in excitement.
You talked some more about this and that, mostly freaking out about the newest Bridgerton season, and you completely lost track of time. For a good while, it genuinely felt like this was a no-boys-allowed beach day, and only when Cadence nodded at something in the distance did you remember there were other people accompanying you. One of whom was… currently getting out of water… like Poseidon’s hot ass grandson or something.
You almost blurted out a very disgraceful “HOT DAMN!” right next to the man’s daughter, like…
Gorgeous, goooorrgeous body all wet, looking rock hard, unnecessarily sexy with his stupid collarbone tattoos, and that ridiculous arch of his back?
FUCK RIGHT OFF!
This was insane. Everyone around you was literally half naked; why the absolute HELL were you struggling with him? The entire beach was crassly ogling Chris, but you felt like you had to look away because what if your true intentions were actually flashing on your face in big neon letters? And what if he could read you wanted to cover his sunkissed body in ANY edible substance, and lick him from head to toe?
As you force-channeled all your attention to the horizon in the distance, you wondered what it would be like to wake up with Chris in your bed. With kisses on his bare back. Licks down his abs. Saying good morning to him with some good head. Or just sitting on his morning wood to take care of yourself first—he seemed like the type to be okay with it. Then hearing his moans in your ear. Having his fingers in your hair. Making him giggle mid-orgasm. Hearing an “I love you” when you made him cum. And when he said “Baby, let’s skip work today and just fuck,” ignoring life for a whole twenty four hours to spend each other like loose change in every position imaginable…
Was this what Victorian men felt like?
“Everything okay?”
“WHAT?!” you jumped in your place when Chris sat down right next to you, anxiously giggling. “Uh, yes, sorry, um… I just… spaced out for a second.”
God, this was hell. He was sitting next to you, but not too close to avoid a disaster inside his shorts. And you had deployed your entire willpower reserves to ignore his iodine scent, otherwise you were going to sit on him.
Sure, bro was out there walking like a drowning hazard at the beach with ZERO legal consequences, making people choke on their own drool with his insane sexiness, but you were the horny one for soaking through your swimsuit. Cool, cool, cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.
Being observant had never been Ryder’s strongest suit, but Cadence had immediately noticed the two fully grown adulteenagers right across her. Vehemently fanning themselves despite the pleasant breeze, squirming with nervousness, flinching at the slightest touch, about to pass notes to each other in AP Lit to meet under the bleachers for a moment of privacy…
She chuckled to herself and grabbed two cans from the cooler, shoving one in Ryder’s face.
“Get up, stupid,” she rose to her feet.
After shaking off the full-body shock, Ryder hurriedly followed after her. You and Chris watched them like a pair of hawks, and once they were well out of earshot, you turned to each other with big smiles, highfiving so hard that your hands almost cracked.
WHO CARES?
“FUDGING YES!”
Chris knew what a highfive was supposed to be—a motion of two open palms slapping against each other and then retreating. Literally even the twins knew how to execute that to perfection.
He had no idea why he felt the need to lock his fingers with yours when your hands met, though.
Your heart immediately started beating in your ears, your smile fading rapidly. His skin was a little calloused at spots, likely because of holding drumsticks too much, but it still felt like the softest clouds to you. It still felt like the safest place to be.
It wasn’t because you wanted to that you pulled away. You were going to attack those lips for the entire beach to see if you touched him two seconds longer.
“What, er erhm… What–What’d you guys talk about?” Chris asked with a sheepish smile, scratching his nape.
Oh, crap…
Should you tell him? Granted, you and Cadence were not exactly on friends terms, but it still felt like an abuse of trust to tell him everything exactly as it was.
“Chris, um…” you played with your fingers. “You had… the talk with Cadence, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know… Birds and bees?”
“Where did that come from all of a sudden?” he chuckled in amusement first, but his dimples disappeared as quickly as they bloomed. “Wait, what did you guys talk about?”
“Nothing!” you raised your hands in panic. “It’s just that… She’s at the age I got pregnant with Ryder, and—”
“Oh, HEEELL NAH!”
“SHH! Will you calm down? Here, drink this,” you shoved a cold can in his hands. “Have a little faith. Our kids will talk to us when they’re ready.”
“Did you talk to your folks about sex?” he cocked a brow.
“I mean after I got pregnant but…”
“THAT’S NOT HELPING!”
“I’m messing with you,” you cracked up, squeezing his arm. “Give us a little credit here. We’re doing much better than our own parents.”
“How do you know?”
“There is one question I ask every girl dad to measure success, and there is a wrong answer, by the way,” you declared. “Can Cadence openly talk to you about her period?”
“Yeah?”
“It was forbidden in my house! It was this super private, hush-hush thing, and well… dirty,” you confessed. “And she describes you as pretty chill, so…”
“Oh, I’m NOT gonna be pretty chill about some douche rocket sneaking around to defile my daughter,” he widened his eyes homicidally.
“Was that the only reason you snuck around at that age?” you contorted your face. “Can’t it just be for an innocent kiss?”
“Every hormonal Y chromosome holder is after getting some other part of their body kissed, baby, trust me on this.”
Your entire body caught on fire when he dropped the B-bomb out of nowhere. Oh, it sounded so good when he said it. Nevertheless, when your lips unwittingly parted in surprise, Chris took that to mean he crossed a line, immediately fumbling.
“Oh, shi— S–Sorry, that just… slipped out! I–I didn’t…”
“It’s okay,” you reassured him with a fake as hell laugh. “It’s not… It’s not like you meant it.”
He VERY MUCH DID ACTUALLY, but there was no way he could admit that to you right now.
“I’m… also sorry about earlier,” he played with the tab of the can just like Cadence did.
“What do you mean?”
“By your bathroom?” he reminded you.
Denial was working out so good for you, just WHY did he have to frickin’ bring it up again?!
“I–It’s fine! It’s… It was just an accident,” you forced another smile, making your cheeks hurt.
“Your tattoo is really cute, though.”
Hold up…
He said he didn’t see anything but… he saw the tattoo. Clearly enough to remember what it looked like. And he thought… it was cute?
Was he… flirting with you?
“PUH—LEASE!” you laughed so hyperbolically to overcompensate for your nervousness that a snort came from behind your nose. “I… I got it on a dare when I was in college. It’s–It’s stupid. It’s… so stupid.”
“I think it’s mad sexy.”
HAHHAHAH WHAT?
That was what you thought it was, right? He was making a move on you, right?
You weren’t severely delusional or anything, right?!
“T–Thank you,” you tucked your hair behind your ear.
“Oh gosh, I apologize. I…” he panicked again. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“NO, YOU DIDN’T! You… You really didn’t,” you passionately denied his self-accusation. “I’m just… not very used to hearing things like that.”
“Like that being,” he squinted a little bit, “you being sexy?”
WHAT SEXY, WHAT WAS HE EVEN SAYING?!
“Well, y–yeah,” you acknowledged despite the crushing embarrassment.
“Oh, come on, you’re so hot the scoville scale is on the verge of fucking blowing up here.”
You had no idea what the hell was happening to you, but you were feeling like a teenager again, butterflies swarming your stomach. His mere words were exciting you so much. You had never been hit on like this before, much less by a man you found this attractive, and well…
…liked lowkey.
Your face turned into an exclamation point purely because your loins were on fire, but so did his.
“S–SORRY! I’m so sorry! I don’t have a filter when I’m around people I’m comfortable with, I’m—” he kept apologizing, then let out a big resigned sigh, mumbling to himself with a facepalm so hard, it sounded like it hurt. “Fucking hell, mate, put a cap on it. Christ…”
His freakouts had no business being this endearing, but they were pushing you closer and closer to the brink of drowning him in kisses. Well, you had collected enough evidence now. Effectively concluding you wouldn’t die of mortification if you flirted back, you leaned into him a bit.
“I think it’s mad sexy when you swear,” you quietly let him know. “Just saying.”
His frantic spiraling suddenly stopped. He averted his eyes from you, touching the tip of his ear while smiling to himself, then cleared his throat as if that was some confidence EpiPen or something.
“Don’t encourage me if you don’t mean it because I swear a lot,” he warned.
“Would love to hear the setlist, drummer guy,” you challenged him.
Chris thanked every single deity he could think of for having his hands on his lap because otherwise that throb between his legs would kill him out of embarrassment.
“Have I ever told you I’m a bit of a mixologist, too?” he continued.
“Drummer and a bartender,” you narrowed your eyes. “Say you have a tattoo parlor, too, and I’ll hit the badboy bingo.”
“If your tattoo needs retouching, I’ll learn it for you.”
YES? Touching, retouching, making out with it, all of it was very much welcome if it was him.
“Do you have any signature recipes of your own?” you asked.
“Fuck yeah, I do. I’ll mix them for you sometime,” he proudly declared. “We’ll see if they can make you hit… something else… other than bingo.”
“Some–Something else?” you played dumb, actively resisting a violent meltdown.
“Yeah, well, my cocktails are told to taste exceptional,” he gently brushed his fingers on yours, leaning in. “But it’s also exceptional when I do the tasting.”
“And I’m supposed to believe a man willingly gives head?” you leaned in closer.
“Why don’t you try me and find out?”
Oh, god it was happening. It was really happening. This ri–di–cu–lous–ly sexy, endlessly charming kind-hearted dork was full-on wooing you, and while your outsides were very much solid, your insides were nothing but a blob, melting even more every time he flashed those dimples at you. And now he was coming closer. You were finally going to know what those cloud-like lips would feel like between yours. You were finally going to know what he tasted like. You were finally going to know if his body temperature was also at feverish levels when he was consumed by lust.
You were finally going to kiss his face off.
“Daddy, look, seashells!”
“SEASHELLS!” you and Chris yelled in unison, jumping in your place with psychotically widened eyes when the twins reminded you of the obligation to keep it PG.
You loved these girls to death, but this had got to be the worst cockblock of your life.
“We uh… er erhm… We should head back and uh… prepare dinner,” Chris awkwardly suggested. “Cade and Ryder can come home together.”
“Yeah, of course,” you agreed with a smile.
“It was obvious that I meant prepare dinner together, right?”
It wasn’t Chris’s fault. Obvious or not, your brain’s first interpretations were never about someone willingly wanting you with them. But what was Chris’s fault was how lovable he was.
If he didn’t stop this, you were going to fall irreversibly in love with him, and it was scaring the shit out of you.
“S–Sure,” you nervously responded. “Anything I can help with.”
“It’s the girl’s afternoon nap time,” he spoke into your ear. “And the beach is… too crowded, so…”
So he wanted you… to be alone together. In a fucking kitchen. Where everything was about eating.
Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to taste Chris's COCKtails.
cooooool, cool, cool. another devastatingly cute summerland update, and i’m supposed to be okay?!!
and yes i love that u made Chris being an eater canon 😛
also love that mc and cadence finally had a wholesome heart to heart with each other :( like the kids and Missha are just as important as MC and Chris in Summerland!!!
i think so far the hardest part about dating for me is the compromise. i will literally do anything for my friends and family, but the biggest barrier when it comes to dating are the lack of values. like they either turn out to be misogynists, non-committal, overly obsessive if you don’t want that, performative and/or obsessed with their mums (derogatory).
like give me a break man 😭✋ i do not want to be your mommy pls
pairing: chan x fem!reader
genre: smut, angst, fluff, established relationship.
content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut.
word count: 3.1k
a/n: specific is good, helps me figure out what you want! hope this is somewhat what you were looking for! i went maybe a bit heavy on the angst lmao also sorry for being so late, couldn’t post for a few weeks.
being taught and shown love only existing as heterosexual relationships makes it extremely difficult to imagine a life where i’m happy in a queer one. i find myself being attracted to the concept of a heterosexual relationship rather than a man, but i find being more interested in talking to women.
it’s difficult to dream of being in a relationship with a woman when the world around me doesn’t seem to view it as a way of being happy or relating to me. it shouldn’t even matter because love is love, but it sucks that it does. i just never realised how deep-rooted heteronormativity was in my belief of relationships.
➥ Contains: Hot men who wanna do it do it do it do it oh na na na na na, Minchanner/fujoshi fanservice, horny yearning, canon little shit Minho, Chris vacationing in horny hell but he also loves chomping fire noodles so
⚠ — (Non-exhaustive, full cw policy here): Implied sex work
➥ Burning alive with his lust for Minho, Chris is this 🤏 close to risking it all.
*a/n: I'm rewriting some old work as I reupload my one shot archive, and this one begged for a do-over due to the recent Minchan nuclear bomb. I cast them, but you can technically imagine anyone you want with Minho 🍮
“Pass me another beer, will you?” Minho demands, resting his legs on my lap.
How about I PASS AWAY instead? Fuck this man entirely.
The request is hardly grounds for going on a rampage, I’m aware, but I can’t take it anymore. I’m about 97% positive this motherfucker is doing it on purpose. One time I stared at his thighs after we sparred at the gym, and all of a sudden, he has to sprawl every time he’s at my place.
And he’s at my place every damn day as of late.
Minho is a celebrity of sorts now, making whopping seven figures from his camming shenanigans. And I know that because he put me in charge of his finances so that, quote, “he wouldn’t blow all his money on a pyramid scheme or something”. It’s a weird thing to witness when we were debating which instant ramen brand wouldn’t bankrupt us not that long ago, but what do you know? Turns out attention whoreism is a very legitimate industry, and he’s really good at what he does.
NOT THAT I religiously watch him or anything.
I’m not gonna lie, though, I am a bit salty. We’ve known each other fucking forever—it’s not insane to expect that I should have seniority over randos online to see him naked, but it’s neither here nor there. I make do with what I have. That may be the only way I get to experience him the way I want to, but at the end of the day, he still shows up at my place. I’m the one who gets to see him in person. I’m the one who knows what his shampoo smells like. I’m the one who…
…wants him deliriously.
I can’t prove it, but I swear to god he knows. It’s not something I can casually bring up; I’m unfortunately not as brazen as he is. If I’m spectacularly misreading the situation because of my pudding-tinted glasses, I’m gonna risk losing my best friend in the whole wide world, and I can’t have that.
But he just won’t stop confusing me.
Minho is a cat. On a regular Tuesday, he despises physical touch, but every once in a while he snuggles up to me, usually when we’re both under heavy influence. He knows how easy it is to fluster me. He knows I will catapult myself off the couch if he fakes going in for a kiss because he knows I won’t take it seriously. I know this motherfucker teases for a living. And he knows that I know.
I’d rather chew my arm off than make the first move because some people still have something called pride.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Minho interrupts my inner tirade, cheesing big. “You got tense all of a sudden.”
“NO?” I deny the allegations no matter how close his feet are to my crotch.
“Yeesh, that was a bit too loud,” he tsks. “Not getting laid lately?”
‘YOU DON’T FUCKING SAY, WHORE?’ I want to yell even louder, like does he even HEAR HIMSELF?
Maybe it has something to do with how he keeps stretching in his place every two seconds, groaning like he’s getting his dick sucked. Maybe it’s because I keep trying to confirm if he actually has a semi or if I finally lost it and my eyes just see what they wanna see. Maybe it has something to do with me telling him I really like his new cologne, and he somehow pulled up at my place drenched in it. Take your pick!
I’m either gonna go insane or go at him at this rate.
“There. I gotta pee,” I hand him his precious beer and jump to my feet, rushing to calm myself down with the coolness of the bathroom tiles.
It’s getting so hard to be around him because my urges are getting out of control. Two centimeters too close, and I get instant hard ons even in public. One whiff of his scent, and I’m imagining what he would sound like in the backseat of my car. One look at the way he scarfs down his puddings, and I’m calculating how many licks it will take till he gets to the center of me.
FUCK this man entirely, and I’m seriously inching closer to!
Fucking tease…
I lean against the bathroom door, close my eyes, and palm myself, imagining what it would be like to kiss him when he jerks me off. Maybe I can even make him cum just by kissing him. How much would his load be? Would he let me use that as lube to fuck him senseless afterwards? What would he sound like if he let me suck him off?
I’m not saying I’ll drown you in cum if you have full lips, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.
That’s what he said in his most recent stream. He keeps complimenting my lips—there has to be a reason for that, right? What if he likes it so much that he moves into my bed the next day? Is he inviting me? Is he trying to get a confession out of me? Is he trying to get me to fucking lose it?
“Don’t finish.”
“FUCKING—!”
His voice suddenly echoing right behind me scares the crap out of me. All I wanted was to put a stop to my intrusive thoughts so I could function like a normal human being and finish the movie in peace, but apparently I’m not even entitled to that in my own fucking house.
“Let me in,” he softly knocks on the door.
“Go away!”
“Then come out,” he insists, his voice dropping lower. “I need to see you.”
Need to see me. For what?
I hurriedly splash some cold water on my face and take deep breaths to calm myself, and once I decide I’m ready to face him, I turn the doorknob.
“What do you want?”
I was expecting many things. A snarky comment, a taunting remark, some other manifestation of his dry as fuck humor…
But a kiss wasn’t one of them.
Something I have only imagined suddenly becoming my reality makes me short-circuit so hard that my mind goes blank. I’m barely able to remember my own name. I can kinda process that Minho is standing in my hallway, and he’s kissing me like he wants me to take my last damn breath in his hands.
And I think I’m kinda okay with that.
“Wanna make a sex tape with me?” he asks in between kisses.
“WHAT?”
“Were you seriously not aware how loud you were moaning in there?” he licks his lips and flashes a grin. “I heard everything.”
Oh, great. Then can he at least let me go fucking DIE out of embarrassment in peace?!
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he speaks with the kind of softness I’ve never once heard from him, brushing my cheek with the back of his hand. “You think about me, too, don’t you? You want me as much as I want you.”
As much as he… wants me.
I don’t know what to make of it. My heart is beating in my ears, and my jaw drops in surprise, and it makes Minho chuckle. He takes that as an invitation to kiss me again, and my knees almost give way. His passion drips from his lips this time, so lethal that it feels like willingly walking into a jungle when I know a tiger is waiting in there to rip me apart. I want the tiger to rip me apart.
Apparently, so does he.
When he shoves me against the wall, my hands move completely on their own. One grabbing him by the nape, the other sliding inside his shorts, I feel how hard he is for me already, and it’s driving me crazy. It’s embarrassing how hard I throb when he takes me hostage under his touch, but the taunting I expect never arrives.
He just smiles into my lips.
“Not enough,” he heavily pants. “Get on your knees for me.”
I can’t think for myself. I just mindlessly follow his instructions, holding him in the grip he wants, taking him as deep as he wants, and letting him guide me to a pace he sets. It’s so uncomfortable between my legs that I can’t take it anymore. I set my cock free and start stroking myself to his rhythm.
He lets out a grunt when he sees me do that.
“Have I ever told you how much I love your fuck me eyes?” he bites into his smile as he keeps watching me.
Well, he fucking should have, and A LOT sooner.
If my mouth wasn’t full, I would have started spewing obscenities, praising his every inch to drive him up a fucking wall, but I can still pull this off wordlessly. Looking up at him as I take him deeper down my throat, grinning at the way his eyes roll back in sheer ecstasy…
I have half a mind to completely unleash myself on him.
“You’re not the shy guy you make yourself out to be at all, are you?” he devilishly smiles, throwing his head back with his grip in my hair getting tighter. “Oh GOD, just like that.”
I steady myself and grope his hips, pushing him deeper into me. I know I have him right where I want him when his moans suddenly triple in volume. His thighs start shaking around me when I growl against his skin, and right when I’m finally about to taste him, he backs away.
Fucking tease.
“Where’s… Where’s your phone?”
“In my room,” I respond, wiping the corners of my mouth. “Chargi—”
He harshly grabs me by the wrists and pulls me up, and before I know it, he’s devouring my lips again. Kissing him even harder, I drag him to my bedroom, damn near ripping his clothes off the whole way there.
“You can’t take a fucking hint. I’m gonna die if I don’t fuck you,” he whines against my skin. “God, you’re so fucking hot, I can’t stand your ass.”
“No, you don’t,” I annoyingly smirk at him and pull him to my bed.
He grabs my phone on the nightstand and aims it at me. When I hear that sound telling me he’s hit record, my heart races, and he tugs at my waistband for me to take off my boxers.
“Show me how hard you are for me,” he instructs, lazily stroking himself. “Show me.”
Minho is an attention whore, but it’s not just limited to hearing compliments—he also gets the biggest kick out of seeing what his sexiness does to people. He told me that himself.
All of a sudden, it makes a lot of sense why he keeps flustering me especially when we’re in public.
I make a complete show of stripping for him, and it makes me fucking throb when I see how thickly he swallows. It feels like the tables have turned somehow. As if I’m the one performing to the camera, and he’s the one behind the screen, wishing he could get his hands on me. And it makes me feel fucking alive.
I will never call him an attention whore ever again.
When I lie on my back, he rests the phone on the nightstand, still recording, and settles between my legs. It makes me wanna combust seeing him breathe that heavily as he wraps his hands around my thighs. He licks his lips when he notices the precum I’m dripping, and his fingers dig deeper into my flesh.
“You have no fucking idea how many times I came to this,” he confesses, scowling like he’s mad, then chokes on my cock.
BITCH, WOULD A HEADS UP FUCKING KILL YOU?!
I lose it when I feel his warmth, pressing my palms on my eyes. He ascends me in his mouth, taking me so deep that I’m scared to ask why he doesn’t have a gag reflex. That throat is trained for sure, and it pisses me the fuck off for no reason. My body unwittingly tenses, and he notices, looking up at me with those big eyes as if to ask me what’s wrong. I can’t tell him what’s wrong; he’s going to think I’m insane.
I can’t tell him I can’t stand the thought of him with someone else.
His frenzied movements calm down, and he lets me go. He wraps one hand around my girth and lazily strokes me, staring right into my eyes as his other hand holds mine. It makes me wanna cry for some reason. I can’t control how erratically I’m breathing, and I’m fighting for my life to not let slip an accidental sob.
Really not the time to get all emo right now.
It freaks me out a little when he pulls my hand close and places little kisses on my wrist because I’m sure he can hear my thoughts at this point. Then can he hear this, too? Can he hear I’ve been in love with him ever since he walked into my dorm room all those years ago? Can he hear I haven’t been able to see anyone else since then? That I’m dying an excruciating death every day I don’t get to have him for myself?
Can he please end my misery and let me fucking love him?
He squeezes my hand and smiles at me, though it’s certainly up to no good. I know that look in his eyes while he descends even further down. A part of him wants to watch me drench his fist, but the default sick bastard part of him wants to edge me until he makes me cry.
But I think I’m kinda okay with that.
I flinch in my place when he dips his tongue inside me, slowly exploring as his other hand keeps me in a gentle but firm grip. I run my fingers in his hair, and he moans into me, making me throb in his palm again. He doesn’t laugh out loud, but I can still feel his smile.
I think I’m falling deeper in love with him.
I don’t know what came over me. I lunge at him and take him under me, overcome with this urge to drown his face in kisses. He giggles into my mouth, and it’s at that moment I unfortunately realize just how down bad I am. That sound makes my heart swell. It makes my lips curl. It makes my cock throb.
“Fuck me,” he demands, his voice turning several shades darker. “Screw prepping me, just go for it. I need you.”
How about I PASS AWAY instead?
I grab the lube on my nightstand and drench myself in a generous coat as well as his entrance. When I press my tip against him, he winces a little, bracing himself for impact, but he’s not the only one that can be a fucking tease when he wants to. I’m barely in, only fucking him two knuckles deep at an excruciatingly slow pace, and I can’t control how big I’m grinning as I anticipate a frustrated scream to fucking do it already.
I don’t know what came over me.
Like an intrusive thought I can’t control, I put one of his legs on my shoulder, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I start kissing it. I shouldn’t because it’s way too intimate for what the circumstance permits, but I just don’t care.
I’m dangerously close to letting a 143 slip.
“Can I?” I ask for permission. He fervently nods in response.
And when I finally start sinking into him, he groans so loud that it suddenly pushes me ten steps closer to my orgasm.
“GOD, as tight as I’ve always imagined,” I loudly hiss. “I’m gonna make a mess all over you.”
I fucking love how he can’t help himself, clawing at my sheets with each thrust, moaning like he’s beside himself with pleasure. He wants more. He wants me to hit his deepest spots. He wants me to occupy the same space as him, and I’m scared he’s gonna make me have an untimely accident.
“You like that a bit too much,” I sink my fingertips into his thighs. “How long have you wanted me?”
He just keeps moaning in response like his brain just isn’t cooperating, and it drives me even crazier. I spit on my hand and hold him in a firm but steady grip, exactly the way I hold the reins of control for a change.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” I urge him in a voice as calm as I can produce through my rabid excitement. “I’m gonna keep drilling you into this mattress, and you’re gonna shoot your load in my mouth. Am I making myself clear?”
When he eagerly nods at my instructions, my grip on his cock becomes a tad firmer. My thrusts slow down a bit to keep myself steady, but I stroke him much more vehemently to compensate for that.
“Please! Please, I’m…”
“Yes, you are,” I complete the sentence he can’t finish on his behalf. “You’re going to cum very hard for me.”
I spit on his cock and start jerking him so fast that he can’t resist me even if he wants to. The second I see that first string shooting out of him, I lower my face to swallow every single drop. Oh, he cums so much. He cums so hard. He cums like he never has whenever he’s on camera. And I made that happen.
The ego trip is about to fucking kill me.
“Taste yourself,” I scrape the stray drops of cum that landed on his crotch and prod his lips. “Then you’re gonna finish me.”
He wraps his lips around my fingers and wraps his legs around my waist, looking dead into my eyes with his much darkened gaze. As he swirls his tongue around my digits, my breathing gets more labored, running after I’ve been craving my whole life. He clenches as hard as he can, knowing damn well I won’t be able to take that pressure, and moments later I violently snap, filling him up to the brim. The euphoria that comes with it is so addictive that I never want this moment to end.
It’s pure bliss to finally be Minho’s.
I collapse on his chest and catch my breath while he plays with my hair. When I finally look up at him, his big feline eyes look so adorable that a tsunami of emotions wash over me, but before I can even make a move, he’s the one drowning me in soft but wet pecks. It makes me tickle. He eventually turns to his right and reaches for my phone to stop the recording, his sharp features morphing into their usual mischievousness.
“Wanna go live for round two?” he grins at me. “My audience has been asking about the hot dude that’s totally in love with me.”
“WHAT? ARE YOU CRAZY?!”
“You’re gonna keep pretending you don’t enjoy the attention?”
“I don’t.”
“But these beg to differ,” he kisses the tip of my burning ears. “Come on, let me show you off. I wanna make bitches die of jealousy.”
Fucking tease. He’s going to be the death of me one of these days.
But I think I’m kinda okay with that.
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to make Minchan fucking kiss already.
sooo this is clearly an homage to all the times Chris has been so obviously obsessed with Minho
i am NOT complaining because Minchan is my city and I will never leave
all 10s across the board for yet another amazing fic from you!! i love it when you write yearner!Chris btw, makes me wonder if you ARE Chris (i won't tell anyone i promise hehe)
it's actually crazy how my depression made years feel so much shorter than they actually were. i can't help but be mad at it for making me lose so much precious time, but it also fuels me with a will to live to make the most out of the years to come.
atp it's pure rage that's making me want to live, and i'll take it lmao
this is just a random rant about something that's been on my mind.
i have yet to watch lioness, but from what i've seen from the edits, i like how the roles are reversed in the main character's marriage. rather than a wife sitting at home with the kids, you have the husband doing just that. it's probably misogynistic of me to even point it out, but i can't ignore how refreshing it is to see, because in so many movies the wife acts as some pawn that shows just how much sacrifice her husband makes. that is quite literally her only role throughout the entire work. you see it in the many male hero movies and tv shows.
it is very rare that we see the wife for more than what she is, as a person. which i understand can happen if she's not the main character, but does get a bit boring when the only purpose they serve in the story is to show just how much the male hero is sacrificing. i mean even other male side characters get more of a backstory than she does.
I haven't had a major depressive episode in a good while (thank god/knock on wood) and while I KNOW everybody's experience is different, it's always kinda annoyed me that a lot of people who DON'T have depression try and describe it to each other like "Have you ever lost someone you loved? It's like that but all the time forever"
Because I've definitely heard that analogy more than once from more than one person and again- maybe just MY experience here- but for me, it's less "nail through the heart agony and hopelessness" and more "waking up one day and finding out that loved one never existed in the first place, and in fact you HAVE no loved ones, and nobody loves you, either, nor will they ever"
But hell, maybe that IS just my personal pan hell, because the one and only time I ever actually said that to a psych specialist they said that their analogy made more sense and they themselves had "gone through a period of depression once" so of course they would know
i think it took me a while to realise that i had depression, because everyone around me kept describing depression as just constant debilitating grief, and if it wasn’t that then you’re just in a phase where you’re burnt out.
unfortunately just pushing through it ended up with me giving up all together. but nevertheless, i’m grateful i’m still here to take the time to rebuild myself and start anew, no matter how hard it gets.
i think i'll always feel like an abnormality throughout my existence, and be constantly trying to fit myself into different molds to make sure i still have a community around me. it doesn't feel so hard when i earn the gift of not having to listen to my own thoughts and eventually believe them as fact.
it does however make being alone unbearable from time to time. the last time i was alone, i almost lost my life. so i suppose there now lies an irrational fear that the next time i'm alone, there won't be an 'almost' anymore.
so i lie in this space of acceptance from the world and try to ignore my desires of wanting to peel the skin off my body and dissecting it into microscopic fragments.
it's either this or leave everyone behind and cause unnecessary pain. let's hope i can endure this for long enough
