Jellymong @jellymong - Tumblr Blog

hi! js thought it would be HOT if you could write smutty smut with popular racer chan who takes reader on a ride, have a very nice and messy (i mean MESSY) sex in the car and in the end he leaves an autograph on reader's body.

I'M SO EMBARRASSED WRITING THIS IM SO SORRY🙏🏻

𝐵𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑡 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑁𝑜 𝐵𝑟𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐵𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑛 (𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑜𝑡) 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠:21k

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡:𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬,𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞,𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬,𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨,𝘥𝘰𝘮/𝘚𝘶𝘣,𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦,𝘖𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹,𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬,𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 “𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨” / 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵)

𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐤𝐳

𝐴/𝑁:

𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘐 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘋 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 😭 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵!!

𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘉𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘰?? 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 😔

𝘈𝘯𝘥𝘥𝘥, 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘑𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘰, 𝘴𝘰 𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 😭 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘪𝘵, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 🫶

(Obs: I’m not sure if the story turned out good since I didn’t actually write it happening inside the car itself, ‘cause doing that in a car sounds kinda uncomfortable 😭 but I did my best)

𝟐𝟑:𝟏𝟕,𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨📍

The night was hot, humid, and thick — the kind of Carioca summer evening where the air clung to your skin and every breath felt heavier. The Uber wound its way up the sinuous roads of Morro do Corcovado, headlights cutting through the dark vegetation as the city sprawled below like an endless sea of golden and white lights. Christ the Redeemer stood illuminated at the top, watching silently over everything. You stared out the window, heart beating faster than it should, a knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach.

You really didn’t want to be here.

“I’m serious, Mina. If I feel too out of place, I’m calling an Uber and going home. Even if it costs me my entire month’s salary,” you muttered, tugging at the hem of your dark red dress for the tenth time. The fabric was elegant and fitted, hugging your waist, hips, and neckline tastefully, but you knew it was nowhere near extravagant enough for a place like this.

Mina, sitting beside you, threw her head back and laughed loudly — that bright, unfiltered laugh that always turned heads. Her short black dress was daring, with a plunging neckline and a high slit that showed off her legs. Her makeup was flawless: sharp cat-eye liner, bold red lips, wavy brown hair tousled just right. She looked like she belonged in this world.

“Oh, come on, stop being so dramatic!” she teased, nudging your arm. “You look absolutely stunning in that red dress. Like a ripe cherry ready to be noticed. Relax your shoulders, breathe. It’s just a private party. There’ll be race car drivers, actors, singers, businessmen, models… the full luxury package. I got the invite through a contact who organizes high-end events. We deserve a taste of this glamorous life for once. Stop making that face and enjoy it!”

You sighed deeply, pressing your forehead against the cool window. Your world was completely different: a small apartment in Méier, remote marketing work, tight deadlines, iced coffee, and quiet nights with series. Not mansions with valet parking, armed security, and people who regularly appeared on magazine covers or drove cars worth more than apartments.

The Uber stopped in front of a massive dark iron gate flanked by well-kept walls covered in greenery. Two serious-looking security guards checked Mina’s QR code carefully, scanned the inside of the car with flashlights, and finally let you through.

The illuminated stone driveway curved between palm trees and modern sculptures before revealing the mansion — a striking contemporary building with clean lines, floor-to-ceiling glass, exposed concrete, brushed steel, and rich wood. An infinity pool on the side seemed to spill straight into the city lights and the bay below. The music reached you muffled but insistent: sensual R&B blended with deep electronic beats that you could feel in your chest.

The moment you stepped inside the main hall, the impact hit you hard.

The space was enormous. Double-height ceilings, massive crystal chandeliers slowly turning and casting purple, gold, and soft red reflections. Entire walls of glass offered a breathtaking panoramic view of Rio at night — from Sugarloaf Mountain to Christ the Redeemer and the illuminated coastline. The air conditioning was refreshingly cool against the humid heat outside, but the scent was intoxicating: aged whiskey, fine Cuban cigars, expensive colognes, gourmet appetizers, and a faint hint of sea breeze drifting in from the open terraces.

You felt like an intruder the second your heels touched the black marble floor.

Mina, of course, walked in like she owned the place. Within five minutes she had greeted a famous lingerie model, laughed with a well-known soap opera actor, and secured two sophisticated drinks at the polished black marble bar — a perfectly balanced cosmopolitan for you and a vibrant blue cocktail for herself.

“Drink slowly, but drink. Loosen up those tense shoulders. You look like you’re about to take a college entrance exam,” Mina teased, elbowing you lightly while scanning the room. “See that guy in the white shirt over there? European football player. Filthy rich. And that blonde in the gold dress? She travels by private jet. Let’s mingle a bit.”

Mina was unstoppable. She was your complete opposite: extremely outgoing, zero filter, naturally funny in a way that disarmed everyone. As you moved through the crowd, she effortlessly struck up conversations — complimenting dresses, cracking light jokes, exchanging numbers like it was nothing. At one point she disappeared for nearly twenty-five minutes with a quick “Just saying hi to someone, don’t disappear!” leaving you standing near the bar, stirring your drink and trying not to look awkward or lost.

You felt eyes on you. Some curious, some appraising, some interested. A woman in a gold dress looked you up and down. An older man in an expensive suit smiled and raised his glass, but you quickly looked away, cheeks warming.

When Mina finally returned, her eyes were sparkling with excitement, practically bouncing in her heels.

“Girl, you are NOT going to believe what I pulled off! Come with me right now!”

“Mina, wait… I’m fine here at the bar—”

It was useless. She grabbed your wrist and pulled you through the crowded room, weaving between dancing couples, loud laughing groups, and waiters carrying silver trays of colorful drinks and canapés. You climbed a few steps to a more elevated, semi-private area — a beautiful open terrace with an even more spectacular view of Christ the Redeemer and Guanabara Bay glittering in the distance. A large noble wood table was surrounded by comfortable beige and black leather sofas, lit by warm indirect lighting.

And there they were.

Hyunjin, the South Korean idol who split his time between Brazil and Asia and served as a global ambassador for luxury brands, reclined with his long black hair loose, laughing softly as he swirled a glass of rosé champagne. Beside him sat Changbin, a high-performance athletic trainer and former MMA fighter, his muscular build evident under a fitted black dress shirt. Minho owned an exclusive network of dance and pilates studios. Seungmin was a renowned corporate lawyer handling multimillion-dollar contracts. Felix worked as a performance engineer for racing cars. And at the center, commanding the entire space like the world was his personal playground…

Bang Chan.

The pilot. The Australian-Korean driver dominating motorsport categories across Latin America with strong international prospects. Athletic and well-defined from intense daily training, wearing a black dress shirt with several buttons open, revealing tanned skin and a thin gold chain. Dark tailored trousers that accentuated powerful thighs. Tousled light brown hair, sharp jawline, and piercing dark eyes. He was laughing at something Felix said, his deep, slightly raspy voice carrying, but the moment Mina pulled you closer to the table, his gaze locked onto you.

And didn’t let go.

“Everyone! This is my best friend I told you about!” Mina announced proudly, with zero filter. “I practically had to drag her here crying. She hates parties, hates crowds, hates all this glamour… but I insisted. Be nice to her, okay? She’s shy, sweet, and amazing.”

Hyunjin smiled warmly and elegantly.

“Welcome to the circus. Have a seat, make yourself comfortable. Champagne?”

You murmured a soft “thank you” and sat on the edge of the sofa, the cool leather pressing against your thighs. Your heart raced. Mina threw herself into the group as if she’d known them forever and immediately took over the scene.

She launched into a hilarious story about the time you two got lost at a rave years ago, imitating voices, making exaggerated faces, and gesturing dramatically. The whole group burst out laughing. Changbin slapped the table, Hyunjin covered his mouth with crescent-moon eyes, and even the more reserved Seungmin laughed genuinely. Mina was unbeatable at this — she could turn any situation into her own entertaining show.

Meanwhile, you stayed quieter, smiling politely and answering only when directly asked. But Bang Chan gave you no room to fade into the background.

He leaned forward, elbow resting on his thick thigh, and studied you openly. His gaze traveled slowly and deliberately: your crossed legs, hips, waist, the way the red dress outlined your chest, your neck, your lips, and finally your eyes. When they returned to your face, a slow, confident, and dangerously charming smile curved his lips.

“So you were dragged here against your will…” His voice was low and smooth, carrying that attractive Australian-Korean accent. “Feeling like an outsider in the middle of all this luxury, huh?”

You offered a small, shy smile and shrugged lightly.

“A little. Actually… a lot. This isn’t really my kind of environment.”

“I can tell,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting higher. His eyes sparkled with amusement and something darker, more intense. “But damn… you look incredible in that red dress. You stand out from everyone else here — in the best possible way.”

Mina, catching the comment, let out a bright laugh and pointed at him.

“Oh my God, Chan! Going straight for it! He’s like that — no brakes. If he makes you uncomfortable, tell me and I’ll throw champagne in his face.”

The group laughed. Chan chuckled along, deep and raspy, but his eyes never left you.

“What’s your name?” he asked directly.

You told him.

He repeated it slowly, tasting each syllable as if savoring how it might sound in other contexts.

“Beautiful. It suits you perfectly.” He took a slow sip of his amber drink, still watching you. “I’m Chan.”

“I know who you are,” you replied softly, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Do you?” His smile widened, turning more predatory and intrigued. “And even knowing that, you’re treating me like any regular guy at the party. That’s interesting. Usually by now women are trying to sit on my lap or slipping me their numbers. You barely hold my gaze. Are you challenging me on purpose?”

You turned your face slightly and met his eyes just inches away. His cologne wrapped around you — dark wood, leather, warm spices, and a distinctly masculine note that made your stomach tighten.

“I’m not challenging anyone. I’m just not the type to jump into anyone’s lap just because they’re famous.”

Chan bit his lower lip slowly, his eyes darkening with clear interest and challenge.

“Good. Because I don’t want just anyone. I like the chase. I like earning it.” His voice dropped lower. “And you… look like a very tempting prize worth every dangerous turn on the track.”

The tension between you two was already thick, electric, even as the rest of the group continued laughing and chatting around you. Mina shot you a knowing, mischievous look from across the table and raised her eyebrows repeatedly as if saying, “Go for it, don’t miss this.”

The night had barely begun, but you already felt like you’d entered a high-speed curve with no seatbelt.

Bang Chan didn’t seem like the kind of man who gave up easily on something he wanted.

And from the hungry, possessive way he looked at you now, it was clear he wanted you.

---

𝟎𝟎:𝟓𝟎,𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨

The energy around the table had settled into a comfortable rhythm, the kind that only happened when the right mix of people clicked. Mina was the undeniable star of the moment. She had launched into yet another story — this time about the disastrous “romantic dinner” the two of you had attempted two years ago. The tale involved burnt garlic bread, a smoke alarm, panicked neighbors, and an eventual visit from the fire department. She told it with perfect timing, exaggerated gestures, and voices that had the entire group laughing hard.

Changbin was nearly crying, slapping the wooden table. Hyunjin covered his mouth, eyes curved into perfect crescents, while Felix kept asking for more details in his deep voice. Even Seungmin, usually the most composed, let out genuine laughs between sips of his drink. Minho watched everything with an amused smirk, occasionally adding dry commentary that made the story even funnier.

You laughed along, genuinely entertained by your best friend’s performance. But no matter how hard you tried to focus on the group, your awareness kept drifting back to the man sitting close beside you.

Bang Chan.

He lounged against the leather sofa with the relaxed confidence of someone who truly belonged in every room he entered. One arm rested along the back of the couch, fingers inches from your bare shoulder. His black shirt stretched across his broad chest and strong shoulders, the open buttons revealing just enough tanned skin and the faint gleam of his thin gold chain. He looked effortlessly powerful — the kind of man whose presence demanded attention without him needing to try.

And he was giving you all of his attention.

Not in an obvious way that would draw comments from the others. It was subtler, more dangerous. His gaze lingered on the curve of your neck when you turned to laugh at Mina. When you crossed your legs, his eyes followed the movement slowly, appreciatively. Every time you lifted your glass to your lips, he watched with quiet intensity, as if memorizing the way they pressed against the rim.

“You’re in marketing, right?” he asked during a lull, his voice low and smooth, carrying that rich Australian-Korean accent that made every word feel intimate. “Mina mentioned something about campaigns and social media. Sounds like you spend your days figuring out what makes people want things.”

You nodded, turning slightly toward him. “Pretty much. I create visuals and stories that make people stop scrolling. Try to make them feel something.”

Chan’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Interesting. You seem like someone who understands desire very well.” His eyes held yours a beat longer than necessary. “Even if you don’t always show it.”

The double meaning hung between you, light enough to pass as casual conversation, heavy enough to make your pulse quicken. You felt heat rise to your cheeks but refused to look away immediately.

“I’m better at reading what other people want than admitting what I want,” you replied softly, keeping your tone playful but guarded.

He chuckled quietly, the sound low and warm, sending a small shiver down your spine. “That’s a dangerous answer,” he murmured, leaning just a fraction closer. His fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder — barely there, almost accidental — as he reached for the bottle of champagne to refill his glass. “Makes me wonder how hard I’d have to work to find out what you really want tonight.”

Before you could respond, Mina turned back to the group with another burst of energy.

“Babe! Tell them about the client who wanted flying pigs in the campaign! It was absolute chaos!”

You jumped at the opportunity to shift focus and launched into the story, grateful for the brief escape. As you spoke, describing the ridiculous briefing and the creative team’s meltdown, you could feel Chan’s gaze on the side of your face, tracing your profile, dropping occasionally to your lips and the neckline of your red dress. When you finished, the group laughed again, but Chan was the first to comment.

“You tell stories well,” he said, voice smooth as velvet. “Good eye for detail. That’s rare.” He paused, then added with a small smirk, “In my world, the smallest details are what separate winning from crashing at two hundred kilometers per hour. I like people who notice things… who pay attention.”

His arm shifted slightly on the backrest, now resting more deliberately behind you. The warmth of him was noticeable — the faint heat of his body, the clean masculine scent of his cologne (dark wood, warm spice, and something expensive). It wrapped around you like an invisible pull.

You met his eyes again. “And what about you? Do you always pay this much attention to… details?”

Chan’s smile turned sharper, more predatory, though still masked as friendly conversation. “Only when the details are worth it.” His gaze flicked down to your mouth for a split second. “And you’ve been very worth watching since you sat down.”

The tension crackled. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too obviously. He was good — very good. He knew exactly how to push without being overt, how to make every innocent sentence feel loaded.

The group conversation continued around you. Mina was now debating the best nightlife spots in Leblon with Hyunjin and Felix, her laughter ringing out. Changbin and Minho were trading training stories. Seungmin listened quietly, occasionally offering dry wit.

Chan took advantage of the divided attention.

“You know,” he said quietly, only for you, “most women who end up at this table spend the whole night trying to impress me. Flirting hard. Laughing at everything I say. You… you’re doing the opposite. You’re making me work for every smile.” He tilted his head, studying you. “It’s refreshing. And fucking attractive.”

The mild curse word, spoken low and rough, sent a spark through you. You turned to face him more directly, your knee brushing against his thigh under the table. Neither of you pulled away.

“Maybe I’m not here to impress anyone,” you said softly, holding his gaze. “Maybe I’m just here because Mina dragged me.”

“And yet,” he countered, voice dropping even lower, “you haven’t left. Even though I can tell part of you wants to run.” His fingers finally made proper contact — a slow, light trace along your shoulder, barely skimming your skin. “Tell me the truth. Are you having fun yet, or are you still planning your escape route?”

You hesitated, then gave him a small, honest smile. “I’m… having more fun than I thought I would.”

His eyes darkened with satisfaction. “Good. Because I’d hate for you to leave before the night gets interesting.”

Time stretched. More stories were told. More drinks were poured. Mina kept shooting you knowing glances, barely hiding her excitement. At one point, Hyunjin suggested moving to another part of the mansion or even heading to a different venue later.

Chan waited for the perfect moment, then spoke casually but clearly.

“Actually,” he said, looking straight at you while addressing the group, “I was thinking about taking the Ferrari out for a drive. The view from the top of the mountain at this hour is insane. Quiet roads, city lights everywhere.” His eyes locked onto yours, intense and inviting. “If you want a break from the noise… you should come with me.”

The invitation landed heavily. It sounded innocent enough — a scenic drive. But the way he looked at you made it clear this was anything but innocent. The tension between you had been building for nearly an hour in stolen glances, light touches, and layered words. This was the first real step.

You didn’t answer right away. You let the silence stretch, holding his gaze, feeling your heart race. Part of you wanted to say yes immediately. Another part enjoyed making him wait.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, a small, teasing smile playing on your lips.

Chan leaned back, but his eyes never left yours. The corner of his mouth lifted in a slow, confident smirk — the look of a man who loved the chase and was certain he would win.

“Take your time,” he murmured, voice low and promising. “I’m very patient when something — or someone — is worth waiting for.”

Mina raised an eyebrow at you across the table, barely containing her grin. The rest of the group continued chatting, seemingly unaware of the electric current running between you and Chan. But you both knew.

The night was still young, the city lights sparkled below, and the tension between you had grown into something undeniable — slow-burning, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep playing hard to get.

And Chan looked like he was more than ready to turn up the heat.

---

𝟎𝟏:𝟐𝟎, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The laughter around the table continued, but you needed a moment to breathe. The constant weight of Chan’s gaze, the subtle brushes of his fingers, and the electric tension had started to feel overwhelming. Your cheeks were warm, your heart was racing faster than it had any right to, and you could barely focus on the conversations anymore.

You leaned slightly toward Mina and whispered, “I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back.”

Mina nodded immediately, eyes sparkling with understanding. “I’ll come with you.”

You both stood up, excusing yourselves politely. As you walked away from the table, you could feel Chan’s eyes following you the entire way — heavy, appreciative, and unmistakably hungry. You didn’t dare look back.

The mansion’s bathroom area was just as luxurious as the rest of the house: marble floors, soft golden lighting, massive mirrors, and individual stalls that felt more like small private rooms. The moment the heavy door closed behind you two, Mina let out a dramatic squeal and grabbed your arms.

“Oh. My. God. Girl!” she whisper-shouted, her voice echoing slightly off the marble. “Did you see the way he was looking at you? Bang Chan was practically undressing you with his eyes right there at the table! I thought he was going to pull you onto his lap in front of everyone!”

You covered your face with both hands, leaning back against the cool marble counter. Your cheeks were burning.

“Mina, stop! I’m dying of embarrassment here,” you groaned, voice muffled by your palms. “He’s so… intense. Every time I move, he’s watching. Every time I speak, he has some double-meaning comment. I feel like I’m under a spotlight. Why me? There are so many gorgeous women here tonight.”

Mina pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at her. Her expression was a perfect mix of amusement and excitement.

“Because you’re hot, babe! And you’re not throwing yourself at him like everyone else does. That man is used to women crawling all over him. You sitting there being all shy and composed? It’s driving him crazy. I saw the way he leaned in every time you spoke. His arm was basically around you by the end. He is so into you.”

You paced a little in front of the mirror, fixing your dress even though it didn’t need fixing.

“I know he’s flirting. It’s so obvious. The way he talks… the touches… that accent. God, his voice is dangerous. I keep getting goosebumps every time he gets close. But Mina… this is Bang Chan. Famous pilot, rich, ridiculously hot, and probably has a different girl in every city. I feel so out of my league.”

Mina hopped up to sit on the marble counter, crossing her legs and grinning like she had just won the lottery.

“Exactly! That’s why you should enjoy it! It’s not every day a guy like him sets his sights on you. Most girls would kill for this kind of attention. He’s clearly interested. Like, seriously interested. The whole table noticed. Hyunjin kept raising his eyebrows at me, and Felix was smirking the entire time. Chan was eating you up with his eyes. I’m surprised he didn’t start drooling.”

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “You’re exaggerating…”

“I’m not! When you told that story about the flying pigs campaign, he was staring at your mouth the whole time. And when your leg brushed his under the table? I thought he was going to break his glass. Girl, the tension between you two is insane. Even I could feel it from across the table.”

You turned to the mirror, checking your reflection. Your face was flushed, eyes a little brighter than usual, lips slightly parted. The red dress suddenly felt tighter, more revealing.

“He invited me to go for a drive with him,” you admitted quietly. “Said the view from the top of the mountain is beautiful at this hour. Just the two of us in his Ferrari.”

Mina’s eyes widened dramatically and she let out another excited squeak.

“Yes! Say yes! Go with him!”

“Mina!” you laughed, half mortified. “It’s past midnight. We barely know him. What if—”

“What if he fucks you senseless in the Ferrari and you have the best night of your life?” she finished boldly, grinning. “Look, I’m not saying be reckless, but… live a little! This is the kind of story you tell your grandchildren someday — ‘Yeah, I had a wild night with a famous race car driver in Rio.’”

You covered your face again, laughing despite the embarrassment.

She softened her tone a bit, still smiling but more serious. “Okay, okay. Be safe, obviously. Share your location with me the whole time. Keep notifications on. If anything feels off, call me and I’ll come get you, no questions asked. Rio at night can be tricky, even in fancy cars. But Chan seems respectful enough, and he knows everyone here. I don’t think he’d risk his reputation doing something stupid.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “He’s just… so much. The way he looks at me makes me feel naked. And when he talks close to my ear… I swear my brain stops working.”

Mina hopped down from the counter and hugged you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder while both of you looked at the mirror.

“That’s the feeling you should chase tonight. You deserve to feel desired. You work so hard, you’re always so responsible… for once, let a hot, rich, talented man spoil you a little. Or a lot.” She winked. “And if you end up having sex… use protection, please. I’m way too young and hot to be an aunt right now.”

You burst out laughing, pushing her playfully. “Mina! Oh my God!”

“What? I’m being realistic! That man looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Those thighs? Those hands? Yeah… you might not walk straight tomorrow.”

You shook your head, still laughing, but the nervousness was slowly mixing with excitement. The idea of being alone with Chan in his car, driving through the dark mountains with the city sparkling below… it was terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

“So… you think I should go?” you asked, voice smaller now.

Mina turned you around to face her, holding your shoulders.

“Yes. Go. Enjoy every second. Flirt back if you want. Let him chase you. Let him catch you if it feels right. But keep me updated. And remember: you’re a goddess. He should be the one feeling lucky.”

You took a deep breath, staring at yourself in the mirror one more time. The girl looking back seemed different — flushed, eyes bright with possibility, a little bolder.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll go.”

Mina squealed again and pulled you into a tight hug.

“That’s my girl! Now fix your lipstick, take a deep breath, and go make that man lose his mind. I want all the details tomorrow — or whenever you resurface.”

You both laughed as you touched up your makeup. The conversation, the teasing, and Mina’s encouragement had eased some of the overwhelming embarrassment. Now, underneath it all, anticipation was building.

As you walked back toward the table together, Mina leaned in one last time.

“And remember… if he kisses you, make sure it’s worth the drive.”

Your heart raced faster with every step. Chan was still at the table, talking with the others, but the moment you reappeared, his eyes found yours immediately. That slow, dangerous smile returned to his lips.

He already knew.

And from the way he looked at you now — darker, more certain — he could tell your answer was going to be yes.

The night was no longer just young.

It was yours to claim.

---

𝟎𝟏:𝟑𝟎, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The walk back from the bathroom felt longer than it should have. Every step made your heart beat harder against your ribs. Mina walked beside you, still grinning like an idiot, occasionally bumping her shoulder against yours in silent encouragement. The luxurious mansion pulsed with low music, laughter, and the clink of expensive glasses, but all you could focus on was the table ahead — and the man waiting there.

The moment you reappeared in sight, Chan’s head turned. His dark eyes locked onto you instantly, as if he’d been watching the direction you’d left. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips. He leaned back against the sofa with that effortless dominance, one arm still draped along the backrest where you’d been sitting.

“Well, well… finally,” he said as soon as you were close enough, voice low and teasing, loud enough for the immediate group to hear but clearly aimed at you. “I was starting to miss you already. Thought maybe you’d escaped through the window to avoid me.”

The table chuckled. Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, amused. Felix smirked into his drink.

You sat back down, closer to him this time, the leather warm from where you’d been earlier. “Missed me in five minutes? That’s a new record,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light despite the butterflies rioting in your stomach.

Chan tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked you up and down slowly. “Five minutes felt like five laps around the track. Time moves different when the view gets taken away.” He leaned in just a little, voice dropping. “Especially when the view looks as good as you do in that red dress.”

Heat flooded your face again. You glanced away toward the glittering city lights outside the glass walls, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

The conversation picked up around you once more, but the bubble between you and Chan felt even smaller and more charged than before. He found ways to include you in every topic — asking your opinion on music, on Rio’s nightlife, on whether speed or control mattered more in life. Every question came wrapped in that smooth accent and those lingering looks.

After several minutes of this careful dance, you took a steadying breath and turned to face him properly.

“Okay,” you said quietly, so only he could hear. “I’ll go with you. For the drive.”

Chan’s eyes lit up with clear victory and hunger. The corner of his mouth curved into a dangerously attractive smirk.

“But,” you continued before he could speak, holding his gaze firmly, “if you try anything I don’t allow… I will hit you. I’m serious. I don’t care how famous or fast you are.”

For a second he just stared at you, surprised. Then he let out a low, genuine laugh — deep, warm, and genuinely delighted.

“Fuck, I like you,” he murmured, biting his lower lip. “Deal. I’ll behave… until you tell me not to.” His eyes darkened. “But I have a feeling you’re going to be the one testing my self-control tonight.”

You held his stare, heart hammering, but didn’t look away. The tension between you crackled like electricity in the air.

Chan stood up first, offering his hand to help you. His palm was warm, fingers strong as they closed around yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Shall we?”

You nodded.

The two of you said your goodbyes to the group. Mina hugged you tightly, whispering “Have fun” in your ear before pulling back with a proud, mischievous grin. As you and Chan started walking away from the table, she caught your eye from across the space. She mouthed clearly, exaggerating the words so you could read her lips:

“Take care. Text me. Don’t get pregnant."

You almost tripped. Chan noticed your reaction and glanced back, but you quickly composed yourself, shooting Mina a death glare mixed with laughter. She just blew you a kiss.

The walk through the mansion toward the entrance felt surreal. Chan kept a hand lightly on your lower back — polite, guiding, but undeniably possessive. His presence beside you was overwhelming: tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the confident stride of someone who dominated every space he entered. A few people glanced your way, recognizing him, but he paid them no attention. His focus stayed entirely on you.

Outside, the night air was still warm and humid, carrying the distant sound of waves and the scent of tropical flowers from the mansion’s gardens. The valet had already pulled up Chan’s car.

A sleek, aggressive Ferrari — deep blood red, shining under the lights like it was wet. The lines were sharp, predatory, exactly like its owner. The butterfly doors lifted upward with a soft mechanical whir as Chan approached.

He opened the passenger side for you, waiting until you were settled before closing it. The interior smelled like expensive leather, new car, and his cologne. When he slid into the driver’s seat, the space suddenly felt much smaller. His hand rested on the gear shift, dangerously close to your thigh.

“Ready?” he asked, voice lower now that you were alone. The city lights reflected in his eyes as he looked at you.

You nodded, buckling your seatbelt. “Ready. But remember what I said.”

Chan chuckled softly, starting the engine. The Ferrari roared to life with a deep, throaty growl that vibrated through your entire body.

“I remember,” he said, pulling away smoothly from the mansion. The car moved like liquid power — fast, controlled, responsive. “No crossing lines unless you draw them first.” He glanced over at you, one hand on the wheel, the other shifting gears as he accelerated down the private road. “Though I have to admit… I’m really hoping you draw a few tonight.”

The mansion lights faded behind you as Chan drove toward the winding mountain roads. The city of Rio de Janeiro stretched out below, an ocean of sparkling lights, with the dark silhouette of the sea beyond. Wind rushed through the slightly open windows, messing with your hair.

You glanced at his profile — strong jaw, focused eyes, slight smirk still playing on his lips.

This was really happening.

The night had officially shifted gears.

And Bang Chan looked more than ready to take you on the ride of your life.

────────────

𝟎𝟏:𝟒𝟎,𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The Ferrari purred like a satisfied beast as it climbed the steep, curving roads leading up toward Vista Chinesa. The city sprawled far below — an endless glittering carpet of lights stretching from the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema all the way to the dark horizon where the sea met the sky. The Cristo Redentor glowed softly in the distance, watching over the sleeping metropolis. Inside the car, the world felt smaller, hotter, and far more dangerous.

You sat with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, the hem of your red dress having ridden up slightly from the movement and the way you kept shifting nervously in the leather seat. The air conditioning was on, but your skin still felt warm. Too warm. Every time Chan changed gears, the low rumble of the engine vibrated through your body, making it impossible to relax.

Chan noticed, of course. He always noticed.

“You okay over there?” he asked, voice smooth and amused, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel while the other stayed on the gear shift. He glanced at you, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “You look like I just kidnapped you instead of taking you for a scenic drive. Breathing would be a good start, sweetheart.”

You let out a shy laugh, biting your lip as you looked out the window at the passing trees and occasional glimpses of the city below.

“I’m fine,” you lied. “Just… not used to this. The car. The height. You.”

He chuckled, deep and low, the sound filling the small space between you. “Me? I’m harmless. Mostly.” His eyes flicked sideways again, lingering this time on the exposed skin of your thighs where the dress had shifted higher. He didn’t even try to hide it. “Though I have to say… that dress is making it very hard for me to keep my eyes on the road.”

Your face burned. You tugged at the hem self-consciously, but it only made the fabric slide back up again when you moved. Chan’s smirk deepened.

“You don’t have to fix it on my account,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave. “I’m enjoying the view. A lot.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing. The tension inside the Ferrari was thickening with every passing second. The scent of his cologne mixed with the leather and the faint night breeze coming through the cracked window made your head feel light.

“Do you… actually know where you’re going?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. “I don’t want to end up lost in the middle of nowhere at almost two in the morning.”

Chan laughed again, genuinely amused this time. He took a smooth curve, the car handling it perfectly, as if it were an extension of his body.

“I know Rio like the back of my hand,” he reassured you, glancing over with a reassuring yet still dangerously attractive smile. “This road leads up to one of the best viewpoints. Quiet. Private. Perfect for… talking.” The pause before the last word made it clear talking wasn’t the only thing on his mind.

You nodded, trying to calm your nerves. “Good. Because I really don’t want to become a headline: ‘Marketing girl disappears with famous pilot after leaving fancy party.’”

He grinned, shifting gears again as the road got steeper. “Nah. If anything, the headline would be ‘Lucky pilot spends night with the most beautiful girl at the party.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the shy smile that escaped. “You’re very smooth. Too smooth.”

“Only when it’s worth it.” His eyes drifted again — slower this time — tracing from your knees up to the hem of your dress, then higher, appreciating the way the red fabric hugged your body. When he looked back at the road, his hand tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “You nervous because of me, or because you’re actually enjoying this more than you want to admit?”

You stayed quiet for a moment, watching the lights of the city flicker below as the car climbed higher.

“Both,” you admitted softly.

Chan hummed in approval, clearly pleased with your honesty. “Good. I like honest girls. Especially when they’re as pretty as you.” He reached over and turned the music down a little, letting the low sensual R&B fill the background instead of overpowering the moment. “Tell me something… why were you so hesitant back at the party? Most girls would’ve been all over me the second they sat down.”

You shrugged, still playing with the hem of your dress. “I’m not most girls. And you’re… a lot. Famous. Confident. The kind of guy who probably has girls throwing themselves at him every weekend.”

He nodded slowly, not denying it. “True. But none of them make me want to drive up here at 1:40 in the morning just to be alone with them.” His voice got quieter, rougher. “None of them make the dress look that fucking good either.”

Your breath hitched. The compliment was direct, heavy with want. You crossed your legs, which only made the fabric ride up even more. Chan noticed immediately. His jaw flexed and he let out a slow breath.

“You keep doing that and I’m gonna have a very hard time focusing on driving,” he said, half-joking, half-serious.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, cheeks flaming, quickly adjusting the dress again.

“Don’t be sorry.” He glanced over once more, eyes dark. “I like when you get shy. It’s cute. Makes me wonder what else makes you blush like that.”

The silence that followed was loaded. The Ferrari hugged another curve, the city now even farther below, the lights looking like scattered stars. The road was almost empty at this hour — just the occasional distant car far behind them. It felt like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in this luxurious, vibrating cocoon of leather and tension.

Chan kept the conversation going, asking about your job, your favorite places in Rio, what you did for fun. But every answer you gave seemed to fuel him more. He listened intently, responding with teasing comments and flirty observations that slowly chipped away at your defenses.

“You have a really pretty laugh,” he said at one point. “Soft. Genuine. I want to hear it more tonight.”

And later: “Your legs look incredible in that dress. Especially when the light from the city hits them like that.”

Each compliment, each lingering look, each low-spoken comment made the air inside the car feel heavier. Hotter. Your shyness only seemed to encourage him. The more you fidgeted and blushed, the more obvious his desire became — in the way his hand kept drifting closer to your thigh on the gear shift, in the way his eyes kept dropping to your chest and legs, in the way his voice got rougher every time he spoke directly to you.

“You’re killing me here, you know that?” he muttered during a straight stretch of road, shaking his head with a half-smile. “Sitting there looking all innocent and nervous while wearing that dress… it should be illegal.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just looked out the window again, heart pounding, thighs pressed tightly together.

Chan noticed that too.

The Ferrari continued climbing, the road twisting higher into the forested hills. The tension between you two was no longer subtle. It was thick, undeniable, and growing with every minute that passed.

---

𝟎𝟐:𝟎𝟓, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The Ferrari continued its smooth ascent through the winding roads of the Tijuca Forest, the dense trees creating tunnels of darkness broken only by occasional glimpses of the city far below. The further you climbed, the quieter the world became. No more distant party music, no more background chatter — just the low growl of the engine, the soft R&B playing through the speakers, and the heavy, charged silence between you and Chan.

You were starting to relax. Slowly. The initial nervousness that had made your hands tremble was giving way to something warmer, bolder. Maybe it was the way Chan kept looking at you like you were the most fascinating thing he’d seen in months. Maybe it was the low compliments he dropped so casually. Or maybe it was simply the thrill of being completely alone with him.

You turned in your seat to face him more directly, letting your dress ride up a little on purpose this time.

“You keep saying I’m killing you,” you said softly, a small, teasing smile playing on your lips. “But you’re the one who can’t stop staring. Eyes on the road, pilot.”

Chan let out a surprised laugh, deep and raspy, glancing over at you with raised eyebrows. “Oh? Look who’s getting brave now.” His hand left the gear shift for a second to rest lightly on your thigh — just above the knee, warm and heavy. “Careful, sweetheart. I might start thinking you actually like the attention.”

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you placed your hand over his, not pushing it off, just resting there. “Maybe I do,” you admitted, voice quieter but steadier than before. “You’re not as scary as I thought you’d be.”

His fingers flexed under yours, squeezing your thigh gently. “Scary? That’s a new one.” He took another curve with perfect control, the city lights sparkling like jewels beneath you. “Most people find me charming.”

“You are charming,” you replied, growing bolder. “Dangerously charming. That’s the scary part.”

Chan’s smirk turned into something darker, more satisfied. The tension inside the car had shifted. You were no longer just reacting — you were playing along. And he was loving every second of it.

A few minutes later, he slowed the Ferrari and turned onto a narrower, less traveled road. “We’re almost there,” he said. “I wanted to bring you here because… well, most girls want the loud places. Clubs, parties, the spotlight. But I figured you’re different. You seemed like someone who appreciates quiet beauty. Real beauty.” He glanced at you meaningfully. “Plus, up here, no one interrupts. No cameras. No expectations. Just the city and us.”

The car finally came to a stop in a small, secluded parking area near the **Vista Chinesa** — one of Rio’s hidden gems. A Chinese-style pavilion sat gracefully on the edge of the hill, surrounded by lush greenery, offering one of the most breathtaking panoramic views of the entire city. At this hour, it was almost completely deserted. Only the soft glow of distant streetlights and the moon illuminated the scene.

Chan killed the engine. The sudden silence was intimate.

“Come on,” he said, stepping out and rounding the car to open your door. He offered his hand again, and this time you took it without hesitation. The night air was cooler up here, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of earth, leaves, and the distant sea.

He led you toward a stone bench near the pavilion, partially hidden by some trees but still offering the full spectacular view. Rio stretched out beneath you like a living painting — the Christ the Redeemer lit up in white, the dark curves of the mountains, the glowing beaches, and the infinite lights of the neighborhoods. It was stunningly beautiful.

You sat down side by side. Chan stretched his long legs out, one arm resting behind you on the back of the bench. This time he didn’t pretend it was accidental — his fingers lightly traced your shoulder, then played with a strand of your hair.

“Worth the drive?” he asked, voice low.

“Very worth it,” you whispered, looking at the view for a moment before turning to face him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He studied your face in the moonlight, his expression shifting from playful to something more intense. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?” The words came out rougher than before. “Not just the dress. You. The way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. The way you blush but still flirt back. It’s driving me crazy.”

You turned your body toward him, knees brushing against his. The boldness you felt earlier grew stronger. “Then maybe you should do something about it,” you said softly, surprising even yourself.

Chan’s eyes darkened instantly. He cupped your face with one hand, thumb brushing over your lower lip slowly, deliberately.

“You sure about that?” he murmured, leaning in closer. His breath warmed your skin. “Because once I start, I’m not going to want to stop at just a kiss.”

Instead of answering with words, you closed the remaining distance.

The kiss started slow — a soft press of lips, testing, savoring. But the hunger that had been building for hours exploded almost immediately. Chan groaned low in his throat and tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a hunger that took your breath away. His hand slid into your hair, gripping firmly as he pulled you closer. His tongue traced your bottom lip before slipping inside, tasting you, claiming you.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was passionate, messy, full of pent-up desire. You kissed him back just as fiercely, one hand fisting his shirt, the other gripping his shoulder. Chan pulled you half onto his lap, strong arms wrapping around your waist as the kiss grew hotter, wetter. He sucked on your lower lip, then bit it gently, earning a soft whimper from you that made him smile against your mouth.

“Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined,” he growled between kisses, his voice hoarse. He kissed you again, deeper, more demanding, tongue dancing with yours while his hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against his chest.

The city lights blurred in your peripheral vision. All that existed was the heat of his mouth, the firm grip of his hands, the way he kissed like he was starving for you. You melted into him, matching his intensity, fingers threading through his hair and tugging lightly. Chan responded with a deep, approving groan that vibrated through his chest.

When you finally broke apart for air, both of you were breathing hard. His forehead rested against yours, eyes half-lidded and dark with want. Your lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, and the hem of your dress had ridden dangerously high on your thighs.

Chan brushed his thumb over your wet bottom lip again, breathing ragged.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that,” he whispered, voice rough. “Since the moment you sat down at that table looking all shy and untouchable.”

You smiled shyly, still catching your breath, but didn’t pull away. “Then don’t stop now.”

His eyes flashed with heat at your words. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another searing kiss — slower this time, but no less intense. His hands explored your waist, your hips, pulling you even closer until you were fully straddling his lap on the stone bench.

The night air, the breathtaking view, the distant sound of the city far below — everything faded into background as the chemistry between you two finally ignited.

And neither of you seemed in any hurry to put out the fire.

----

𝟎𝟐:𝟐𝟓 𝐀𝐌, 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐚, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

Minutes had blurred into what felt like an eternity of heat.

You were fully straddling Chan’s lap on the stone bench, knees on either side of his powerful thighs, your red dress bunched up around your hips. The kiss had turned filthy — tongues sliding hungrily, lips wet and swollen, occasional bites that made you both groan. Chan’s hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you down harder against him with every roll of your hips.

You could feel him.

He was rock hard beneath you. The thick, heavy outline of his cock pressed right against your core through his tailored pants, throbbing every time you ground down. The size was impossible to ignore — long and very thick. The realization made your stomach tighten with a mix of nerves and raw excitement.

Chan pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead pressed to yours, lips brushing as he spoke.

“Fuck, baby… you’re driving me insane,” he growled, voice hoarse. One of his hands slid up your thigh, fingers slipping under the hem of your dress, moving dangerously higher. His fingertips grazed the edge of your panties, teasing the lace.

You shivered hard, a soft whimper escaping your lips as he kissed you again, deeper, more desperate. His fingers were just about to push the fabric aside when you suddenly broke the kiss, grabbing his wrist gently but firmly.

“Chan… wait,” you breathed, chest heaving. “I’m not doing this here. Not in the middle of the woods like this. It feels… strange. What if someone sees us?”

Chan froze, eyes dark with lust, lips parted and swollen. For a second he looked almost dazed, like he was fighting his own body. Then reality seemed to hit him. He let out a heavy, frustrated breath and rested his forehead on your shoulder, chuckling lowly.

“Shit… you’re right,” he muttered, voice rough. “Sorry. Got carried away. This view makes me forget there’s still a world out there.” He kissed your neck softly, almost apologetically, before pulling his hand back. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

He helped you off his lap, adjusting your dress for you with surprisingly gentle hands. But when he stood up, it was impossible to miss how painfully hard he was. The bulge in his pants was obvious, straining aggressively against the fabric. He didn’t even try to hide it as he walked you back to the Ferrari, jaw clenched, breathing still uneven.

Once inside the car, the tension became almost unbearable. Chan started the engine, the low roar filling the silence. He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, gripping the wheel tighter than necessary.

You watched him for a moment, biting your lip. The drive to his place was going to be long.

“Where do you live?” you asked softly.

“Barra da Tijuca,” he answered, voice still husky. “Apartment in a gated community near the beach. It’s a bit far from here… around 40-45 minutes depending on traffic. Why?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you reached over and rested your hand on his thigh, feeling the hard muscle tense under your touch. Chan glanced at you, surprised.

“You ’re really hard,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the massive bulge. “It looks painful.”

He let out a breathless laugh, shifting again. “Yeah… it is. Been like this since you started kissing me back like that.”

The car began descending the mountain road. The city lights grew closer again. You felt a surge of boldness — the same one that had made you flirt back earlier.

“Keep your eyes on the road and drive carefully,” you said quietly, unbuckling your seatbelt.

Chan looked at you, confused. “What are you—?”

You leaned over the center console, hands working on his belt. His eyes widened.

“Baby… you don’t have to—”

“Shh. Just focus on driving,” you murmured, pulling his zipper down. When you freed him from his boxers, his cock sprang out heavily.

He was big. Thick. The head already glistening with precum, veins prominent along the impressive length. You wrapped your hand around the base and Chan hissed sharply, hips twitching.

“Fuck…” he groaned, one hand tightening on the steering wheel while the other rested on the back of your head, not pushing, just holding.

You started slow — licking a long stripe from base to tip, tasting the salty precum. Chan let out a deep, guttural moan that made your core clench.

“Shit, that feels so good…” he breathed.

You took him into your mouth, lips stretching around his thickness. He was heavy on your tongue, filling your mouth completely. You bobbed your head, taking more of him with every movement, using your hand on what didn’t fit.

Chan was incredibly vocal.

“Fuuuck… just like that,” he moaned, voice breaking. “Your mouth is so warm… so fucking wet.”

The car sped up slightly before he forced himself to slow down, breathing ragged. Every time you sucked harder or swirled your tongue around the head, he let out another broken groan or curse.

“Goddamn… you’re gonna make me crash if you keep doing that,” he panted, fingers tightening in your hair. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby. So fucking pretty.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. The obscene wet sounds mixed with his moans and the low purr of the Ferrari engine created an incredibly erotic atmosphere. You took him deeper, relaxing your throat, eyes watering slightly as you pushed your limits.

Chan’s breathing grew louder, more desperate.

“Holy shit— slow down a little or I’m gonna cum too fast,” he warned, voice strained. “You’re too good at this… fuck, I didn’t expect this tonight.”

You didn’t stop. You wanted to push him. Wanted to hear more of those wrecked moans. Your head moved faster, hand stroking in rhythm, saliva dripping down his length.

Chan kept one hand on the wheel, eyes fighting to stay on the dark road while the other gently guided your head.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned deeply, hips twitching up slightly into your mouth. “Such a good girl… taking me so deep. Just like that— ah, fuck!”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Chan groaned, his voice already wrecked.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you took him deeper, relaxing your throat as much as you could, sucking him with pure hunger. Your head bobbed steadily, wet, obscene sounds filling the interior of the Ferrari as you worked him. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside of his thick cock, tracing every vein while your hand stroked the base in perfect rhythm.

Chan’s grip on your hair tightened, not forcing you, but holding on like you were his only anchor. The car was moving, but his focus was clearly split.

“Fuuuuck… baby, your mouth—” He cut himself off with a deep, guttural moan as you sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks. “Just like that… holy shit, you’re sucking me so good.”

You poured everything into it — eager, messy, and greedy. Saliva dripped down his thick shaft, coating your hand as you twisted your wrist on every upstroke. You pulled back for a second to catch your breath, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cockhead, before diving back down, taking him as deep as you could.

Chan’s moans were getting louder, needier, more desperate.

“Ahh— fuck, fuck, fuck… you’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he panted, hips twitching up slightly into your mouth. “So warm… so fucking wet. You’re taking me so deep, baby. Such a good fucking girl.”

The road to Barra da Tijuca felt endless. Every time the car took a curve, his cock shifted in your mouth, and you adjusted eagerly, sucking harder. Chan’s breathing was ragged, chest rising and falling fast. His free hand stayed on the steering wheel, knuckles white, while the other gently guided the pace of your head.

“You’re so fucking nasty for this… doing this while I drive,” he groaned, voice breaking into a whiny whimper that made heat pool between your legs. “Didn’t expect you to be this greedy. Shit— right there, baby. Suck the head like that again—”

You obeyed, focusing on the sensitive tip, swirling your tongue around it before sucking hard. Chan’s moan was loud, almost broken.

“Nngh—! Fuck, I’m getting close already…”

You didn’t slow down. If anything, you went faster, wetter, taking him deeper until your nose brushed against his pelvis. The sounds were filthy — gagging softly, slurping, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach. Chan’s thighs were trembling under your touch.

“Baby… baby, slow down a little,” he begged, voice turning genuinely whiny. “I’m so close… I don’t wanna cum yet— ahh, fuck!”

But you didn’t slow down. You wanted him desperate. You wanted to hear him fall apart.

The minutes dragged on in a haze of heat and moans. Chan kept driving, barely keeping the car steady as you worshipped his thick cock. His groans grew louder, more broken, more pathetic in the hottest way possible.

“Shit— I can feel it… I’m so fucking close,” he whined, breathing heavily. “Your mouth is too good… too fucking good. I’m gonna cum so much if you keep going like that.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his whole body jerk. Chan let out a long, shaky moan that sounded almost pained from how good it felt.

The tall buildings and luxury condominiums of Barra da Tijuca started appearing. You were getting close to his neighborhood. The car slowed as you approached a red traffic light — the last one before the entrance to his gated community.

Chan’s breathing changed. It became faster, shallower, more desperate.

“Baby— fuck, the light’s red,” he gasped. “I’m right there… I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum so fucking hard—”

You didn’t pull off. Instead, you took him as deep as possible and sucked with everything you had, stroking him fast with your hand.

The moment the car stopped completely at the red light, Chan broke.

“Fuuuuck—! I’m cumming— I’m cumming, baby— ahh!”

His head fell back against the seat as his orgasm hit him like a wave. His cock throbbed violently in your mouth, pulsing hard as he started shooting thick, hot ropes of cum straight down your throat. Chan moaned shamelessly loud — loud enough that you were grateful the windows were closed.

“Nnghhh—! Fuck, fuck, fuck— so good— you’re taking all of it,” he whined, voice high and broken, almost sobbing with pleasure. “Oh my god… I can’t stop— there’s so much—”

He kept cumming, wave after wave, filling your mouth until it started leaking from the corners of your lips. His hips stuttered, thighs shaking, one hand gripping your hair tightly as broken, needy moans spilled from his mouth nonstop.

“Baby… baby, you’re milking me so good— ahhh, shit— I’m still cumming— fuck!”

The moans were pure filth — deep, whiny, desperate, almost embarrassed at how intense it was. His whole body trembled as the last powerful spurts filled your mouth. You swallowed as much as you could, the rest dripping down your chin onto his pants and the leather seat.

Chan was panting like he’d just finished a race, chest heaving, eyes half-closed in bliss. The traffic light turned green, but he stayed still for a few more seconds, trying to recover.

“Jesus Christ…” he breathed out, voice hoarse and shaky. “That was… the best head I’ve ever had in my life. You just swallowed almost everything like it was nothing.”

You slowly pulled off his cock, licking him clean with soft, gentle strokes of your tongue while looking up at him. Chan stared down at you, eyes dark and full of awe, his hand gently caressing your hair.

“Come here,” he murmured, pulling you up gently.

He kissed you deeply despite the mess, tasting himself on your tongue with a low groan. When he pulled back, his thumb wiped the corner of your mouth, eyes burning.

“We’re almost at my place,” he said, voice still rough. “And when we get there… I’m going to return the favor until you’re the one moaning my name like that.”

The light was green.

Chan shifted gears, still breathing hard, a satisfied but dangerous smirk slowly returning to his lips as he drove the last few minutes toward his luxury apartment in Barra da Tijuca.

The night was far from over.

𝟎𝟐:𝟓𝟖, 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚 𝐝𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐣𝐮𝐜𝐚, 𝐑𝐢𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐨.

The Ferrari turned into the quiet, exclusive streets of one of the most prestigious gated communities in Barra da Tijuca. Tall walls covered with ivy, discreet security cameras, and perfectly landscaped gardens created an atmosphere of absolute privacy and wealth. Chan drove with calm confidence, one hand on the wheel and the other resting possessively on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin.

He stopped in front of a sleek, modern building and gave a small wave to the security guard, who opened the gate immediately. The car descended into a private underground garage, parking right beside a private elevator.

Chan turned off the engine and exhaled deeply, turning to look at you. His eyes were still dark with desire, lips slightly swollen from earlier. “We’re here,” he said, voice low and rough. “My place.”

He got out first and opened your door, helping you out of the low sports car. Your legs felt a little weak after everything that had happened during the drive. Chan noticed and smiled, pulling you close by the waist as you walked toward the elevator. The ride up was silent, but the air crackled with anticipation.

When the elevator doors opened directly into his penthouse, you stopped in your tracks, completely stunned.

The apartment was breathtaking.

It was an enormous open-concept space with incredibly high ceilings. An entire wall of floor-to-ceiling glass offered a spectacular panoramic view of the ocean and the glittering lights of Barra da Tijuca at night. The living room was vast, furnished with elegant minimalist pieces in dark tones mixed with warm wood. Expensive modern art decorated the walls, and a sleek open kitchen with black marble countertops and high-end appliances sat to the left. Soft golden ambient lighting turned on automatically, bathing everything in a warm, intimate glow. Through the glass doors, you could see a luxurious terrace with an infinity pool that seemed to blend into the sea.

You felt small. Out of place.

“Chan… this is incredible,” you whispered, voice full of awe and embarrassment. “It’s like a dream. I feel like I shouldn’t even be standing here. This place is too… much.”

He chuckled softly behind you, closing the distance until his chest pressed against your back. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his body as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Don’t think like that,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “I wanted you here. In my space. With me.” He kissed the side of your neck gently. “The house is just a house. You’re what matters tonight.”

You turned in his arms to face him, still feeling shy. “It’s just… very different from my reality. This view, the size, the luxury… I feel like an intruder.”

Before you could say anything else, Chan cupped your face with both hands and kissed you.

The kiss was immediate and intense. His lips claimed yours with hunger, tongue sliding against yours as he pulled you closer. You moaned softly into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers threading through his soft hair. Chan groaned in response, hands sliding down your body until they gripped your waist tightly, then lower to squeeze your ass.

He walked you backward without breaking the kiss until your back met the cool glass window. The contrast made you gasp. Chan took advantage, deepening the kiss even more, tongue exploring your mouth as one hand held the back of your neck and the other roamed your thigh.

“Been dying to kiss you like this all night,” he growled against your lips, biting your bottom lip before soothing it. “You have no idea how much I wanted you alone.”

You whimpered, pressing your body against his. You could feel him getting hard again, his thick cock pressing against your stomach. Chan rolled his hips slowly, letting you feel everything as he kissed you like he was addicted.

Suddenly, he bent down, grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively as he carried you, lips never leaving yours. He moved through the living room and up the elegant floating staircase to the second floor, holding you as if you weighed nothing.

The master bedroom was just as impressive: a huge king-sized bed with dark silk sheets, another wall of glass facing the ocean, soft lighting, and a luxurious atmosphere that smelled exactly like him. Chan kicked the door shut and carried you straight to the bed, laying you down in the middle of the massive mattress.

He climbed on top of you immediately, settling between your spread legs, his body pressing you deliciously into the soft bedding. His eyes roamed over your flushed face and messed-up red dress with clear hunger.

“Look at you…” he whispered, voice hoarse. “So fucking beautiful lying in my bed.”

He kissed you again, slower but deeper, tongue tasting every corner of your mouth. One hand slid up your thigh, pushing your dress higher until it was bunched around your waist, exposing your black lace panties. Chan pulled back slightly to look down at you, breathing heavily.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he confessed, kissing your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin hard enough to leave marks. “I’ve been thinking about having you like this since the party.”

You arched into him, hands slipping under his shirt to feel his warm, defined abs and back. Chan sat up for a moment, pulling his shirt off in one smooth motion and throwing it aside, revealing his perfectly sculpted chest, shoulders and abs. He looked even better than you had imagined.

Then he was back on you, kissing you deeply, hips rolling against yours in a slow, teasing rhythm. His hard cock pressed right against your core, making you both moan into the kiss.

Chan hovered over you, his bare chest pressing against your body as he kissed you like he was trying to consume every sound you made. His mouth was hot, demanding, and relentless. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss until your tongues slid together in a wet, messy dance that made your head spin. Every time you tried to catch your breath he chased your lips again, sucking on your bottom lip, biting it gently, then soothing it with his tongue.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he breathed against your mouth, voice thick with lust. “This red dress has been killing me all night… the way it hugs your body, the way your tits look in it… I’ve been imagining taking it off you since the moment I saw you.”

You moaned softly into his mouth, your hands running up his muscular back, nails lightly scratching his skin. Chan groaned at the feeling and rolled his hips slowly against you, letting you feel how hard he still was.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your jaw, sucking on the sensitive spot below your ear before moving to your neck. His mouth was greedy, leaving open-mouthed kisses and light bites that made you arch off the bed with a needy whimper.

“Chan…” you moaned, fingers threading through his hair.

“Fuck, I love the way you say my name,” he growled, sucking harder on your neck. “You sound so pretty when you’re turned on. So fucking sexy.”

His hands moved to the straps of your dress, slowly pulling them down your shoulders. He kissed every inch of skin he revealed, tongue tracing your collarbone as he tugged the fabric lower. When your breasts finally spilled free, Chan let out a deep, appreciative groan.

“Jesus Christ… look at you,” he murmured, eyes dark and hungry as he stared at your bare chest. “These tits are perfect. So fucking pretty. Been dying to taste them.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you.

Chan wrapped his lips around your right nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. You moaned loudly, back arching off the mattress as pleasure shot straight between your legs. He groaned against your skin, the vibration making you shiver.

“Mmm… so sweet,” he mumbled, sucking harder, taking more of your breast into his mouth. His hand kneaded the other one, thumb brushing over your nipple until it was hard and aching. “You taste so good, baby. These tits were made for my mouth.”

He switched sides, giving the same attention to your left breast — licking, sucking, and gently biting until you were writhing underneath him, soft moans and whimpers falling from your lips nonstop. Every suck sent sparks through your body. Every time he flicked his tongue over your nipple you cried out, hips bucking up against him instinctively.

“Chan… oh god…” you moaned, gripping his hair tighter.

He looked up at you while still sucking, eyes locked on yours, the sight incredibly erotic. “That’s it, moan for me,” he said, voice muffled against your skin. “I want to hear how good it feels. You’re so fucking responsive… so sensitive. I could spend hours just sucking on these pretty tits.”

He pressed your breasts together with both hands, burying his face between them, licking and kissing the soft flesh before taking one nipple back into his mouth and sucking hard. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth filled the room, mixed with your breathy moans and his low groans of appreciation.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he praised between sucks, voice rough. “All flushed and moaning under me. This body… fuck, I want to ruin you tonight. Want to mark every inch of you.”

He sucked harder, almost desperately, alternating between your breasts, leaving them wet and shiny with his saliva. Your nipples were swollen and sensitive, every touch of his tongue making you tremble. You kept moaning his name, hips grinding up against his hard cock through his pants, desperate for friction.

Chan growled, one hand sliding down your body to grip your thigh, spreading your legs wider as he continued devouring your chest. He pulled back slightly to admire his work — your breasts covered in hickeys and glistening from his mouth.

“Look how pretty they look now,” he said, voice hoarse with lust. “All marked up by me. Mine.”

He dove back in, sucking and licking with renewed hunger, one hand pinching and rolling the nipple he wasn’t sucking on. Your moans grew louder, needier, your body burning under his touch. Every wet pull of his mouth sent waves of pleasure straight to your core, making you wetter than you’d ever been.

Chan was completely lost in you — kissing, licking, sucking, and praising you nonstop.

“So fucking perfect… these tits are driving me crazy… you’re so hot, baby… so fucking hot…”

He kept going, relentless, as if he really could spend the whole night just worshipping your breasts. Your moans echoed softly in the large bedroom, mixing with his deep groans and the wet sounds of his mouth on your skin.

Chan kept devouring your breasts with unrestrained hunger, his mouth hot and greedy as he sucked hard on your swollen nipples. He alternated between them, licking, biting softly and then soothing with his tongue, while his hands squeezed the soft flesh, pressing them together so he could bury his face between them.

“Fuck, these tits are perfect,” he groaned against your skin, voice thick and raspy. “So soft… so fucking full. I can’t stop sucking them. Look how hard your nipples are for me… so pretty and sensitive.”

You moaned loudly, back arching off the mattress as he sucked harder, the wet sounds of his mouth echoing in the big bedroom. Every pull of his lips sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core, making you wetter by the second. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging desperately as waves of heat washed over you.

“Chan… oh my god…” you whimpered, hips rolling up against him.

He growled in response, the vibration traveling through your chest. “That’s it, moan my name. I love how you sound when I’m sucking on you like this. So fucking sexy.”

After long, torturous minutes spent worshipping your breasts — leaving them covered in red marks and glistening with his saliva — Chan finally began kissing his way down your body. His lips left a wet trail along your stomach, tongue dipping into your navel before moving lower. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your bunched-up dress and panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. You lifted your hips to help him, heart hammering wildly in your chest as the cool air hit your soaked pussy.

Chan spread your thighs wide with his strong hands, settling comfortably between them. He stared at your exposed core for a few seconds, eyes completely dark with lust, breathing heavy.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” he whispered, almost reverently. “Look at this pretty little pussy. So wet… so fucking swollen and dripping for me. You’re making such a mess, baby.”

He leaned in and ran his tongue slowly from your entrance all the way up to your clit in one long, broad stroke. The second he tasted you, Chan let out a deep, guttural moan that vibrated straight against your folds.

“Mmmph— fuck!” he groaned loudly, eyes fluttering shut. “You taste so fucking good. So sweet and creamy… this is the best pussy I’ve ever had in my life. I’m serious.”

He didn’t ease into it. Chan dove in like a starving man, burying his face completely between your thighs with raw, shameless hunger. His tongue licked long, messy stripes up and down your slit, lapping up every drop of your arousal like it was nectar. He moaned continuously against you, the sounds loud, needy, and completely unrestrained.

“Goddamn, baby… you’re dripping down my chin,” he groaned, voice muffled as he licked faster. “Tastes so fucking delicious. I could eat this pussy for hours and still want more. So sweet… so fucking addictive.”

He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips jerked violently and you cried out, gripping his hair tighter. Chan growled in approval, sucking even harder, the wet obscene sounds of his mouth filling the entire room.

“Yes— fuck, just like that,” he moaned against your clit. “Moan for me, baby. Let me hear how good my tongue feels. This little clit is throbbing so much… so cute and swollen on my tongue.”

He pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with deep, wet strokes while his nose rubbed perfectly against your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming. You moaned loudly, thighs trembling around his head as he devoured you with pure enthusiasm.

Chan pulled back slightly, breathing hard, chin and lips shiny with your juices. “You have no idea how good you taste,” he said, voice wrecked. “I’ve never been this fucking obsessed with a pussy before. Look how wet you are… dripping everywhere. Such a messy, perfect girl for me.”

He dove back in even more eagerly, sucking your clit into his mouth while sliding two thick fingers deep inside you. He curled them instantly, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars. His fingers pumped fast and deep, matching the rhythm of his tongue as he sucked and licked your clit with desperate hunger.

“Oh fuck— Chan!” you cried out, back arching sharply off the bed.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name while I eat this pretty pussy,” he groaned loudly, fingers moving faster. “You’re squeezing so tight around my fingers… fuck, I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock like this later. But right now I just want to drink every drop you give me.”

He became almost feral — licking, sucking, and moaning like your pleasure was the only thing that existed. His free hand slid up your body to pinch and tug at your sensitive nipple while he continued devouring you. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth and fingers echoed obscenely.

“You’re soaking my face, baby… making such a mess,” he moaned, voice vibrating right against your clit. “Best fucking taste in the world. I’m addicted already. This pussy is mine tonight. All mine. Gonna make you cum so hard on my tongue.”

Chan sucked your clit harder, fingers curling and pumping faster inside you. His moans were constant and shameless, like he was the one receiving pleasure. Every time you moaned or whimpered his name, he responded with deeper, hungrier licks.

“Cum for me, baby. Please— I need it,” he begged between sucks, voice hoarse and desperate. “I want to feel you cum on my tongue. Want to drink all of it. Be a good girl and flood my mouth. This sweet pussy deserves to cum hard.”

The combination of his filthy words, the relentless suction on your clit, and his fingers hitting that perfect spot over and over finally pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing through your body violently. You cried out his name loudly, thighs clamping around his head as you came hard, trembling and gushing against his tongue. Chan moaned loudly in pure satisfaction, never stopping. He kept licking and sucking through your orgasm, eagerly drinking every drop like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Fuck yes— that’s it, baby. Give me everything,” he groaned, lapping at you greedily. “So good… you taste even better when you cum. Such a sweet, perfect pussy.”

Even after your orgasm subsided and you became sensitive, Chan continued licking slowly and gently, cleaning you up with soft, tender strokes of his tongue while moaning softly, clearly savoring every last bit.

He finally pulled back slightly, lips and chin completely glistening with your juices, eyes dark and satisfied as he looked up at you from between your spread thighs.

“You’re fucking delicious,” he whispered, kissing your inner thigh. “I could eat you for the rest of the night and still not get enough.”

He crawled back up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue, his hard cock pressing insistently against your soaked entrance through his pants.

Chan crawled up your body slowly, kissing every inch of skin he could reach — your stomach, between your breasts, your collarbone, your neck — until his face hovered over yours. His lips were shiny with your juices, eyes completely blown with lust. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he groaned into your mouth.

“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against your lips, voice wrecked. “I could eat that pussy for hours and still beg for more.”

You were still trembling from the intense orgasm, breathing hard, when Chan sat back on his knees between your spread thighs. His hands moved to his belt, undoing it quickly, eyes never leaving your soaked, glistening pussy. He pushed his pants and boxers down in one motion, freeing his cock.

It slapped heavily against his abs, thick, veiny, and painfully hard. The head was dark red, already leaking precum steadily. He was huge — long and impressively thick, the same cock you had sucked in the car earlier, now even harder after tasting you.

“Fuck… look at what you do to me,” Chan groaned, wrapping his hand around the base and stroking himself slowly. His eyes were glued to your pussy, watching the way it clenched and dripped from the previous orgasm. “You’re so fucking wet… so pink and pretty. This pussy is dripping for my cock, isn’t it?”

He stroked himself a little faster, thumb spreading the precum over the head while staring at you like a predator. The wet sound of his hand moving on his thick shaft filled the room, mixing with your heavy breathing.

“Been thinking about burying this cock inside you since the party,” he confessed, voice low and filthy. “Imagining how tight you’d feel. How you’d stretch around me. Fuck… look how wet you are. You want it bad, don’t you, baby?”

You nodded, biting your lip, hips twitching slightly as you watched him jerk off while staring at your exposed pussy. Chan smirked, dark and dangerous, then leaned forward, gripping his cock tighter.

He started teasing you.

He slapped the heavy head of his cock against your clit a few times, making you jolt and moan. Then he began rubbing it up and down your slit — slow, deliberate strokes, coating his thick length with your wetness. The head nudged your entrance, pressing just slightly, before sliding up to rub your clit again in lazy circles.

“Feel that?” he groaned, voice strained. “Feel how hard I am for you? I’m leaking all over this pretty pussy. So fucking slippery… so warm.”

He kept brushing the head along your folds, teasing your entrance, pressing just the tip inside before pulling back out with a wet sound. Every time he did it you whimpered, trying to push your hips down to take him, but he held you still with his free hand on your thigh.

“Uh uh… not yet,” he teased, smirking. “I want to enjoy this. Want to paint this pussy with my cock first. Look how your little hole is twitching every time I touch it… so greedy.”

Chan continued the filthy teasing, rubbing his thick cockhead up and down, occasionally slapping it against your clit, making you moan louder each time. His breathing was ragged, hand stroking the base while he used the head to play with you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet it’s dripping down to your ass,” he groaned, voice getting rougher. “Such a messy girl. My messy girl. This pussy is so perfect… I’m gonna stretch you so good, baby. Gonna fill you up until you can’t think straight.”

He pressed the head against your entrance again, pushing just a little deeper this time, making you gasp. But he pulled back out immediately, continuing to rub and tease, enjoying the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he taunted, stroking himself faster while rubbing the head on your clit. “Want this fat cock splitting you open. I can see how bad you need it. This tight little hole is begging for me.”

Chan leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss while still rubbing his cock against your pussy. His tongue fucked your mouth in the same rhythm his cock teased your folds. You were moaning nonstop, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Please…” you whimpered against his mouth.

Chan pulled back, eyes dark, breathing heavily.

“Please what, baby?” he asked, pressing the head against your entrance again, circling it slowly. “Tell me what you want. Want me to fuck this pretty pussy? Want me to bury every inch inside you?”

He kept teasing, pushing just the tip in and pulling out, over and over, driving you crazy. His hand continued stroking the rest of his length, spreading your wetness all over himself.

“Tell me,” he growled, voice low and commanding. “Beg for my cock like a good girl.”

Your body was on fire. Every slow drag of his thick cockhead along your folds, every time he nudged your entrance, every filthy word made you wetter and more desperate. Chan looked completely lost in the sight — eyes fixed on where his cock touched your pussy, breathing hard, muscles tense.

He slapped his cock against your clit a few more times, then rubbed the head firmly against it in tight circles.

“Fuck… I could cum just from rubbing on you like this,” he groaned. “But I need to be inside you. Need to feel this tight pussy squeezing me.”

He positioned the head right at your entrance again, pressing forward slightly, stretching you open just a little. His eyes locked on yours, dark and intense.

“Ready for me, baby?” he asked, voice hoarse with lust, still teasing you with shallow movements. “Because once I slide in… I’m not stopping until you’re creaming all over my cock.”

“Please, Chan… stop teasing me,” you begged desperately, your voice breaking as you rolled your hips up, trying to take him deeper. “I need you. Fuck me already. Please, I want your cock so bad…”

Chan’s eyes flashed with raw hunger. He gripped his thick cock tightly, rubbing the swollen, leaking head up and down your dripping slit one final time before pressing it firmly against your entrance.

“You want it?” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “You want me to stretch this tight little pussy open?”

“Yes… fuck me, Chan. Please.”

With a deep, guttural groan, he finally pushed inside.

The thick head of his cock slowly forced its way past your entrance, stretching you wide. Chan’s mouth fell open instantly, letting out a long, broken, whiny moan that echoed through the bedroom.

“Fuuuuuuck… oh my god…” he moaned loudly, eyes rolling back as he sank deeper. “Your pussy is so fucking tight… so hot… shit, baby, you’re squeezing me so perfectly…”

He kept pushing in slowly, inch by thick inch, until his hips were pressed flush against yours, buried completely inside you. Chan let out the most pathetic, needy moan, his whole body trembling.

“Ahhh… fuck… I’m all the way in… so deep… your pussy feels incredible… so wet, so warm, so fucking tight around my cock…” he whimpered, forehead pressed against yours, breathing ragged. “I can feel you pulsing around me… Jesus Christ, this is the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

He stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling, letting you adjust to his size. Then he started moving — slow, deep thrusts at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a wet, obscene sound.

“Fuck… fuck… so good…” he moaned with every thrust, voice whiny and desperate. “Listen to how wet you are… you’re creaming all over my cock already, baby. Such a messy girl.”

You moaned loudly beneath him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as pleasure overwhelmed you. “Chan… you’re so big… you’re so deep…”

He groaned at your words, hips snapping harder. “Yeah? You like how my thick cock stretches you? Like feeling me so deep inside this pretty pussy?”

“Yes… yes… harder, please…”

Chan’s control snapped. He grabbed your thighs, pushing them back toward your chest and started fucking you with raw, intense hunger. His hips slammed against yours, burying his cock to the hilt with every powerful thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin grew louder, wetter, filthier.

“Ahh— fuck! Yes… take it, baby,” he moaned loudly, voice breaking with every deep stroke. “Your pussy is sucking me in so greedily… so fucking tight… I’m losing my mind… nnghh!”

You cried out in pleasure, moaning his name shamelessly as he railed you. Chan’s moans were constant and shameless — deep, whiny, almost sobbing with how good it felt.

“Shit… shit… you feel too good… I’m gonna cum so fast if you keep squeezing me like that,” he whimpered, sweat dripping down his chest as he pounded into you harder. “This pussy is perfect… so wet… so hot… I wanna live inside you, fuck…”

He leaned down, pressing his chest against yours, mouth latching onto your neck as he fucked you even deeper. His hips moved in a brutal rhythm, slamming into you with force that made the bed creak loudly.

“Oh god… Chan… it’s so deep… you’re hitting so good…” you moaned, legs shaking around him.

“Yeah? Right here?” He angled his hips and started hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. “Here? You like when I fuck you right there, baby?”

“Yes! Yes— fuck, don’t stop!” you cried out, back arching violently.

Chan let out a string of broken, whiny moans right in your ear, completely lost in pleasure.

“Ahh… ahh… fuck, baby… your pussy is creaming so much… I can feel it dripping down my balls… you’re so fucking wet for me… so nasty… so perfect…”

He fucked you harder, faster, gripping your hips tightly as leverage while slamming into you without mercy. The wet, squelching sounds of his thick cock destroying your pussy were obscene.

“Nnghh… shit… I’m so deep… can you feel me in your stomach, baby?” he groaned, voice trembling. “This cock is yours tonight… gonna fuck this tight little cunt until you can’t walk straight… ahh, fuck!”

Your moans mixed with his — loud, desperate, and filthy. Every powerful thrust made your tits bounce, made you see stars, made you clench harder around his thick length.

Chan’s moans were getting louder, more pathetic, more addictive.

“Fuuuuck… you’re gonna make me cum… this pussy is too good… too fucking tight… I’m addicted already… gonna fuck you all night… gonna fill you up…”

He kept pounding into you relentlessly, sweat-slicked bodies sliding together, mouths occasionally meeting in sloppy, desperate kisses as he railed you deep and hard.

Chan didn’t slow down even for a second.

He kept pounding into you from behind with deep, brutal thrusts, his thick cock stretching your cum-filled pussy over and over. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass was loud and filthy, mixed with the wet squelching of your soaked cunt taking every inch.

“Fuck— fuck— fuck—” Chan moaned loudly, voice whiny and desperate as he yanked your hair harder, forcing your head back. “This pussy is so fucking good… still so tight even after I filled you up… ahh, shit!”

He spanked your ass hard, the sharp crack echoing through the room. Then again. And again. Each slap made you clench around him, pulling another broken moan from his throat.

“Nnghh— yes! Squeeze my cock just like that,” he whimpered, hips snapping faster. “You’re such a dirty little whore… taking my cum and still begging for more… fuck, I love this pussy.”

You were moaning uncontrollably, face pressed into the sheets, ass up high as he destroyed you. Every powerful thrust made your body jolt forward, your tits bouncing underneath you.

“Chan— oh my god— it’s so deep!” you cried out, voice hoarse.

“Yeah? You feel me in your stomach, baby?” he growled, pulling your hair tighter while railing you mercilessly. “You feel how deep I’m fucking you? This cock is ruining this tight little cunt.”

He spanked you again, harder this time, then grabbed both cheeks and spread them wide so he could watch his thick cock disappearing inside you. The sight made him moan loudly, almost pathetically.

“Fuuuuck… look at that… your pussy is creaming so much… white all over my cock… so fucking nasty,” he whimpered, voice trembling with pleasure. “I’m gonna fuck you until you’re leaking my cum for days.”

Chan suddenly changed the angle, leaning forward and pressing your upper body down into the mattress while keeping your ass up. He started fucking you even harder, short and brutal thrusts that hit your g-spot perfectly.

“Ahh— ahh— fuck! Right there— don’t stop!” you screamed, gripping the sheets tightly.

“I’m not stopping,” he moaned right next to your ear, sweat dripping from his chest onto your back. “I’m gonna fuck this pussy until you can’t take anymore… until you’re shaking and crying on my cock.”

His moans were getting louder, whinier, more desperate. Every thrust came with a broken sound — deep, needy, and shameless.

“Nnghh— shit… your cunt is squeezing me so hard… I can feel my cum inside you… so warm… so fucking messy,” he whimpered, spanking your ass again. “You’re my cumdump tonight, baby. My dirty little cumslut.”

He reached around and rubbed your swollen clit with fast, rough circles while continuing to pound into you. Your moans turned into loud, broken screams as another orgasm built rapidly inside you.

“Chan— I’m gonna cum again— please— I’m so close!” you cried out.

“Cum for me— cum on my cock like the slut you are,” he demanded, voice shaking. “I want to feel you throbbing… wanna feel this pussy milking me while I fuck you stupid… ahh, fuck— cum right now!”

You shattered hard, screaming his name as your third orgasm ripped through you. Your walls clenched violently around his cock, gushing around him as your whole body shook.

Chan moaned loudly, almost sobbing in pleasure as he felt you cum.

“Fuuuuck— yes! Just like that… squeezing me so fucking tight… good girl— such a good fucking girl,” he whimpered, still thrusting through your orgasm, prolonging it.

He didn’t stop.

Even as you trembled and gasped, he kept fucking you through it, hips slamming against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. His moans were constant and broken.

“Ahh… ahh… I can’t stop… your pussy feels too good… I’m gonna cum again… gonna fill you up even more,” he whined, voice high and desperate.

He grabbed your hips with both hands and started railing you with savage intensity — fast, deep, and animalistic. The bed creaked violently under the force of his thrusts.

“Take it— take my fucking cock— take another load, baby,” he moaned, voice cracking. “I’m so close… your cunt is milking me… fuck— I’m cumming— I’m cumming!”

With a loud, broken, whiny moan, Chan buried himself as deep as possible and came hard inside you again. His cock throbbed violently, pumping thick ropes of hot cum deep into your already full pussy. He kept thrusting through his orgasm, whimpering and moaning pathetically as he emptied himself.

“Fuuuuck— take it all… take every drop… such a good cumslut… ahhh, shit!”

He stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing heavily, bodies slick with sweat. His cock twitched inside your overflowing pussy, cum already leaking out around him.

But Chan wasn’t done.

He slowly pulled out, watching with dark eyes as his cum dripped from your abused hole. Then he flipped you onto your back again, spreading your legs wide.

“We’re not finished yet, baby,” he growled, voice hoarse but still hungry. “I’m nowhere near done with this pussy tonight.”

Chan was still breathing heavily, his cock buried deep inside you, cum leaking out around his thickness. But instead of pulling out and stopping, he wrapped his arms around you and rolled over, switching positions so he was lying on his back with you on top of him.

You were exhausted, legs shaking, body limp from the multiple orgasms, but Chan clearly wasn’t done.

“Ride me,” he demanded, voice low and husky, gripping your hips tightly. “I want to watch you bounce on my cock. Come on, baby… show me how much you want it.”

Even tired, the way he looked at you — eyes dark, lips parted, chest heaving — made heat flood through your body again. You placed your hands on his muscular chest for balance and slowly lifted your hips, feeling his thick cock slide almost all the way out before sinking back down.

Both of you moaned loudly at the same time.

“Fuuuuck…” Chan groaned, head falling back against the pillow, eyes rolling. “That’s it… just like that. Ride my cock, baby. Use me.”

You started moving, rolling your hips before bouncing slowly on his thick length. Every time you sank down, his cock stretched you open again, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. The wet, filthy sound of your soaked pussy taking him was loud in the room.

Chan’s hands gripped your ass tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he watched you with pure lust.

“Shit— look at you,” he moaned, voice whiny and desperate. “Bouncing on my cock like a good little slut… your tits look so fucking perfect like this. Keep going, baby. Ride me harder.”

You picked up the pace, bouncing faster, taking him deeper with every movement. Chan’s moans grew louder, more broken, more pathetic. His fingers dug harder into your hips, helping you move up and down on his cock.

“Ahh— fuck! Yes, baby… just like that,” he whimpered, eyes fixed on where your pussy swallowed his thick cock over and over. “You’re so fucking wet… I can hear how messy you are. My cum is dripping out of you while you ride me… such a nasty, perfect girl.”

You moaned loudly, throwing your head back as you rode him with more intensity. The angle made his cock hit deep inside you, rubbing against all the right spots. Chan’s hands moved up to squeeze your bouncing tits, pinching your nipples hard as he thrust up to meet your movements.

“Chan— oh my god… you’re so deep…” you moaned, riding him faster.

“Yeah? You feel me stretching this cum-filled pussy?” he groaned, voice trembling. “Bounce harder, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock. Use me like your personal toy.”

You obeyed, bouncing aggressively on him. The sound of your ass slapping against his thighs mixed with both of your loud moans. Chan was losing control again — moaning shamelessly, whiny and desperate, hips bucking up to fuck you from below.

“Fuuuuck— your pussy is creaming so much… look at the mess on my cock,” he whimpered, eyes glued to the white ring forming around the base of his shaft. “You’re so fucking tight… so warm… I can’t get enough of this cunt.”

He suddenly sat up, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other tangled in your hair. Face to face now, he kissed you messily, tongues sliding together as you kept riding him hard. His moans vibrated into your mouth.

“Mmmph— ride me just like that,” he groaned against your lips. “Bounce on this cock, baby. Milk me. Take everything.”

You rode him with everything you had left, hips moving fast and deep. Chan’s grip on your hair tightened as he started thrusting up harder, meeting every bounce with powerful strokes.

“Ahh— fuck! Chan— I’m gonna cum again!” you cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Cum— cum all over my cock,” he moaned, voice breaking. “I want to feel you squeezing me while you ride me… be a good girl and cum for me, baby— ahhh, shit!”

Your orgasm hit you hard while you were still bouncing on him. You screamed his name, walls clenching violently around his thick cock as you trembled on top of him. Chan moaned loudly, almost sobbing in pleasure as he felt you cum.

“Fuuuuck— yes! Squeeze me just like that… good girl… such a good fucking girl,” he whimpered, still thrusting up into you through your orgasm.

He didn’t let you stop riding. Even as you shook and gasped, he kept guiding your hips, fucking up into you with desperate, needy thrusts.

“I’m close again… your pussy is too good… gonna fill you up one more time,” he moaned, voice high and whiny. “Keep riding me, baby— don’t stop… milk my cock… take my cum deep inside you…”

You kept bouncing on him, tired but eager, until Chan buried his face in your neck and came hard with a long, broken moan, pumping even more cum deep into your already overflowing pussy.

Both of you were exhausted, bodies covered in sweat, breathing heavy and uneven. Chan’s cock was still buried deep inside you, slowly softening, but he didn’t pull out. He stayed there, holding you close, placing soft, lazy kisses along your collarbone and neck while you both tried to catch your breath.

After a long moment, he lifted his head and looked at you, eyes still dark but gentler now. His hair was messy, lips swollen, face flushed.

“…You okay?” he asked softly, voice hoarse. “We can stop if you’re too tired, baby. I know I’ve been rough.”

You were tired — legs shaking, body sore in the best way — but you didn’t want it to end yet. You shook your head, biting your lip as you looked up at him.

“I still want you,” you whispered, voice small and whiny. “Just… slower now. Please?”

Chan’s eyes softened. He gave you a small, tired smile and nodded.

“Yeah… I want you too.”

He gently pulled out of you, making you both moan softly at the feeling. Then he carefully laid you on your back and positioned himself between your spread legs. This time there was no rush. He hovered over you, supporting his weight on his forearms, and looked down at your face with heavy-lidded eyes.

He leaned down and kissed you slowly, deeply, tongues sliding together in a lazy, sensual dance. The kiss was full of need, but softer now — almost tender. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you whimpered into his mouth.

Chan reached down, lined himself up, and slowly pushed back inside you. Both of you moaned softly against each other’s lips as he sank in deep.

“Fuck… still so warm,” he breathed, forehead pressed against yours. “You feel so good, baby.”

He started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips, grinding into you instead of pounding. Every thrust was deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him. You moaned whiny and soft, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

“Chan…” you whimpered against his lips, voice needy and sweet. “Feels so good… don’t stop…”

“I won’t,” he murmured, kissing you again, slower this time. His tongue explored your mouth as he rocked into you gently, hips pressing deep and staying there for a moment before pulling back and doing it again.

He kissed your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, then back to your lips — never stopping the slow, sensual rhythm of his hips. You were being so whiny, moaning softly every time he bottomed out, fingers tangled in his hair.

“More kisses…” you pleaded quietly, almost pouting.

Chan smiled against your mouth and gave you exactly what you wanted. He kissed you deeply, passionately, but gently — long, slow kisses that made your heart race even as your body melted under him. He kissed you like he couldn’t get enough of your taste, like he wanted to memorize the feeling of your lips.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you moan like that,” he whispered between kisses, still rolling his hips in that perfect, deep rhythm. “So soft… so whiny for me… I love hearing you.”

You whimpered loudly, pulling him even closer as you kissed him again, tongues sliding together messily. Chan groaned softly into your mouth, one hand gently cupping your face while the other held your thigh, keeping you spread open for him.

Every thrust was slow and sensual. He wasn’t fucking you anymore — he was making love to you. Deep, grinding strokes that made you feel full and claimed. You kept moaning softly, whiny and needy, every sound muffled by his constant kisses.

“Chan… it feels so good…” you whimpered against his lips, eyes half-closed in pleasure.

“I know, baby… I know,” he breathed, kissing you again, deeper this time. “You feel perfect around me. So warm… so wet… I could stay inside you forever like this.”

He kept kissing you nonstop — your lips, your neck, your jaw, back to your lips again. Soft, wet, lingering kisses mixed with slow, deep thrusts. Your bodies moved together in a gentle rhythm, skin sliding against skin, both of you sweaty and tired but completely lost in each other.

You were so whiny, moaning sweetly every time he rolled his hips, fingers clutching his back, legs wrapped tightly around him.

“Kiss me more…” you begged softly, voice trembling.

Chan obliged immediately, capturing your lips in another long, slow kiss, tongue gently playing with yours as he continued those deep, sensual thrusts. The pleasure was different now — warmer, heavier, more intimate.

He stayed like that for a long time — slow, deep, and constant — kissing you like he never wanted to stop, fucking you gently while you whimpered and moaned beneath him, completely wrapped up in each other.

Chan kept that slow, deep rhythm, rolling his hips in a sensual grind as he stayed buried inside you. His forehead rested against yours, breaths mingling, lips brushing every few seconds in soft, lazy kisses. The room was quiet except for the wet sound of his cock slowly moving in and out of your cum-filled pussy and the soft, needy whimpers leaving your lips.

“You feel so good…” you whined quietly, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper. “So deep… Chan, please don’t stop…”

“I won’t, baby,” he murmured against your mouth, kissing you again — slow and wet. “I’m not stopping until we both cum again.”

He kissed you deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours as his hips moved in long, deliberate strokes. Every time he bottomed out, he stayed there for a second, grinding his pelvis against your clit before pulling back and doing it all over again. The pleasure was thick, heavy, and overwhelming in the best way.

Your moans were soft and whiny, almost pathetic, every time he filled you completely. You kept kissing him desperately, fingers tangled in his messy hair, legs shaking around him.

Chan’s breathing was getting heavier. His kisses became more urgent, more messy. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, still so hard even after cumming twice already.

“Fuck… you’re squeezing me again,” he groaned softly, voice hoarse. “So tight… so warm… I can feel my cum inside you every time I move.”

He kissed you harder, one hand gently holding the side of your face while the other slid down to grip your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist. His thrusts started getting a little faster, a little deeper, but still sensual.

You whimpered into his mouth, nails gently scratching his back.

“Chan… I’m getting close again…” you moaned softly, voice trembling.

“Yeah?” he breathed, kissing you between words. “Me too, baby. You feel too fucking good… I don’t wanna stop.”

He started moving with more purpose, still deep but picking up a steady pace. His moans were getting louder, whinier, right against your lips.

“Ahh… fuck, baby… your pussy is creaming so much around me,” he whimpered, voice breaking. “So wet… so fucking warm… I can feel everything.”

You kissed him desperately, moaning into his mouth as the pleasure built higher. Chan’s hips snapped a little harder, his cock hitting that perfect spot with every thrust now.

“Kiss me— please kiss me,” you whined.

Chan immediately obeyed, capturing your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss, tongues sliding together messily as he fucked you harder. His moans were constant now, needy and broken.

“Mmmph— fuck… I’m getting so close,” he groaned against your lips, voice trembling. “Your pussy is squeezing me so tight… gonna make me cum again… ahh, shit— you feel so good, baby.”

He buried his face in your neck, sucking on your skin while his hips moved faster, pounding into you with deep, desperate strokes. His moans were right in your ear now — loud, whiny, and completely shameless.

“Fuuuuck… I’m so close… so fucking close,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “Your pussy is too perfect… gonna fill you up again… gonna cum so deep inside you…”

You were moaning loudly now, legs shaking violently around him as your orgasm approached.

“Chan— I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum!” you cried out, clinging to him.

“Cum with me, baby— cum on my cock,” he moaned desperately, thrusting harder. “I’m right there… fuck— I’m cumming— I’m cumming!”

Chan’s hips stuttered as he buried himself as deep as possible. His whole body tensed and he let out a long, broken, whiny moan right next to your ear as he started cumming hard.

“Fuuuuck— ahhh! I’m cumming… I’m cumming so much— take it, baby… take all my cum!” he cried out, voice trembling and high.

You came at the same time, screaming his name as your pussy clenched violently around him, milking every drop. Chan kept moaning loudly, almost sobbing with pleasure as he pumped rope after rope of hot cum deep inside you.

“Ahh… ahh… fuck… so good… you’re milking me so well…” he whimpered, still thrusting slowly through both of your orgasms, drawing them out as long as possible.

He kept kissing you through it — messy, tired kisses, tongues lazily sliding together while he emptied himself completely inside you. His body trembled on top of yours, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your skin.

When it finally slowed down, Chan collapsed on top of you, face buried in your neck, breathing heavily. His cock was still twitching inside your overflowing pussy, cum leaking out around him with every small movement.

Both of you stayed like that for a long time — sweaty, exhausted, and completely satisfied — trading soft, lazy kisses while trying to catch your breath.

Chan pressed one last gentle kiss to your lips and whispered against them:

“…Stay the night with me.”

Chan stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing heavily, bodies slick with sweat and trembling. His face was hidden in the crook of your neck, lips pressing lazy, tired kisses against your skin while his cock gave one last weak twitch inside you.

Finally, he let out a long, satisfied sigh and slowly pulled out. A thick stream of his cum leaked from your abused pussy, dripping onto the sheets. You whimpered softly at the feeling, too tired to even move.

Chan rolled onto his side and pulled you against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you. One hand gently stroked your back while the other brushed damp hair away from your face.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice hoarse and raspy from all the moaning. He kissed your forehead, then your temple. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You stayed quiet for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as reality slowly started hitting you.

“…I just let a famous race car driver fuck me senseless in his penthouse,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “Multiple times. And I rode him. And begged. And let him cum inside me… twice.”

Chan let out a tired but amused laugh, his chest vibrating against you.

“Yeah… you did,” he said, clearly trying not to laugh harder. “And you were very enthusiastic about it, might I add.”

You covered your face with both hands, mortified but also laughing weakly.

“Oh my god… what the hell did I do? I don’t even do this kind of thing. I’m not… I’m not the ‘go home with a stranger and get railed for hours’ type of girl. Mina is going to kill me when I tell her. Or she’s going to ask for details. Probably both.”

Chan chuckled and gently pulled your hands away from your face, looking at you with a lazy, satisfied smile.

“Hey, you were incredible,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “And for the record… I don’t usually bring girls back here either. So we’re both a little crazy tonight.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest, cheeks burning.

“I can’t feel my legs properly. I think you broke me.”

“Good,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. “Means I did my job right.”

After a few more minutes of quiet cuddling and soft kisses, Chan sat up slowly.

“Come on. Let’s take a shower. You’re covered in sweat and cum… and I probably am too.”

He stood up first, completely naked and still looking unfairly hot even after everything. Then he leaned down and scooped you up like you weighed nothing. You let out a surprised squeak, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Chan! I can walk!” you protested, even though your legs were shaking.

“Barely,” he replied with a smirk, carrying you toward the bathroom. “Let me be nice for five minutes.”

The bathroom was just as luxurious as the rest of the apartment — huge rainfall shower, marble everywhere, and soft warm lighting. Chan turned on the water, waited for it to get hot, and then stepped in with you still in his arms.

He set you down carefully, but kept an arm around your waist to support you. The hot water felt like heaven on your sore body. Chan grabbed a soft sponge and gently washed you — your chest, your stomach, between your legs with surprising care. He was quiet now, focused, pressing occasional soft kisses to your shoulder.

“You’re being suspiciously sweet after railing me like that,” you mumbled, half-joking, half-suspicious.

Chan laughed softly, turning you around so he could wash your back.

“I can be sweet. Sometimes,” he said, kissing the back of your neck. “Especially after making you scream my name for two hours straight.”

You groaned again, embarrassed, and leaned back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you under the warm water.

After the shower, Chan gave you one of his oversized soft t-shirts to wear. It reached mid-thigh on you and smelled like him. He carried you back to the bed (despite your weak protests) and pulled the clean sheets over both of you.

You were beyond exhausted. Your body felt heavy, legs sore, mind fuzzy. Chan pulled you into his arms again, your head resting on his chest, one of his hands gently stroking your hair.

“Stay the night,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t even think about leaving. You can barely stand.”

You wanted to argue, but you were already drifting off. The last thing you felt was Chan’s warm body against yours, his fingers still gently playing with your hair, and the soft sound of his heartbeat under your cheek.

“…Okay,” you mumbled sleepily, already half gone. “Just… don’t tell anyone I acted like a complete whore tonight.”

Chan chuckled quietly, hugging you tighter.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Within seconds, you were fast asleep in Bang Chan’s arms, in his massive bed, in his luxurious penthouse.

And for the first time in a long time… you felt completely at peace

You woke up slowly, the soft morning light filtering through familiar curtains. Your body felt heavy, sore in places you didn’t even know could get sore. You blinked a few times, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

This was… your room.

Your apartment. Your bed. Your messy desk in the corner with the half-dead plant you always forgot to water.

“…What the hell?” you mumbled, sitting up with a groan. Your thighs ached. Your neck had a few suspicious marks. And between your legs… well, you definitely felt what had happened last night.

You looked down. You were wearing an oversized black t-shirt that definitely wasn’t yours. It smelled like expensive cologne and Chan.

Before you could process anything, your bedroom door burst open.

“GOOD MORNING, MISS ‘I don’t go home with famous guys’!” Mina sang loudly, walking in with two cups of coffee like she owned the place. She was already fully dressed, makeup on, looking far too energetic for someone who had been at the same party.

You stared at her, brain still buffering.

“Mina…? How— when did I get home?”

Mina grinned like a shark that had just smelled blood. She sat on the edge of your bed and handed you one of the coffees.

“Chan brought you home around 7 AM. You were dead asleep in his arms like a little princess. He carried you from the car all the way to your bed. Very romantic, by the way. I almost took pictures but I was being respectful.”

You blinked slowly, trying to connect the dots.

“I… don’t remember that at all.”

“Yeah, because you were completely knocked out,” Mina laughed. “He knocked on the door, holding you like a bride, and asked if he could put you in bed. I obviously said yes. Then he tucked you in, kissed your forehead, and told me to text him when you woke up. Very smooth. Very hot. 10/10.”

You pulled the blanket over your head, groaning loudly.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I let him bring me home. I was supposed to call an Uber or something. I wasn’t planning on… staying the night.”

Mina yanked the blanket down, eyes sparkling with pure evil delight.

“Girl. You disappeared with Bang Chan for hours. You came back wearing his shirt, covered in hickeys, and walking like you rode a mechanical bull for six rounds. Don’t even try to play shy now. Spill. How was it? Was he big? Did he eat it good? Was he rough? I need details, bestie. I stayed up waiting for this.”

You buried your face in your hands, cheeks burning.

“Mina, I— we… yeah. A lot. Multiple times. He was… very enthusiastic. And vocal. Like, really vocal. Whiny. Moaning a lot. And he has stamina from hell. I lost count after the third round.”

Mina screamed dramatically and shook your shoulders.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it! The way he was eye-fucking you at the table? I told you! And he brought you home? That’s boyfriend behavior. Pilots don’t usually do that.”

You peeked through your fingers, still mortified.

“I woke up thinking I was still in his penthouse… and now I’m here. I don’t even remember leaving his bed. I just remember… being really tired and him kissing my hair.”

Mina fake-swooned, hand on her chest.

“He kissed your hair? I’m gonna cry. That’s so cute. So he’s a gentleman after rearranging your guts? I respect it.”

You threw a pillow at her, laughing despite your embarrassment.

“Stop! I feel like I got hit by a truck. My legs are dead. I think I have bruises on my ass. He spanked me. A lot.”

Mina’s eyes widened with pure joy.

“Yes! King behavior! Did he pull your hair too? Choke you? Tell me he’s a freak, I need this.”

You nodded, hiding your face again.

“He’s… very freaky. But also sweet after. He showered with me, gave me his shirt, carried me to bed… I don’t know what to think. I literally went from ‘I’m not that kind of girl’ to ‘let me ride you while you fill me up’ in one night.”

Mina cackled, almost spilling her coffee.

“Welcome to the club, bestie. One night with Bang Chan and you’re walking funny. I’m so proud of you. My little slut is all grown up.”

You groaned again, but you were smiling.

“I’m never drinking again. Or going to parties. Or looking at Ferraris. Or handsome pilots. This was a mistake.”

Mina raised an eyebrow.

“So… are you gonna text him?”

You paused.

“…Maybe. He told you to let him know when I woke up.”

Mina grinned mischievously and pulled out her phone.

“Already did. I sent him a picture of you sleeping with his shirt on. Caption: ‘Your girl is alive. Barely.’”

You screamed and lunged for her phone.

“Mina!”

She laughed loudly, holding the phone away from you.

“Relax! He replied with a heart emoji and said he’ll call you later. See? He’s whipped already.”

You fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, equal parts horrified and giddy.

“I can’t believe I had sex with Bang Chan… multiple times… and now he wants to call me.”

Mina lay down next to you, bumping your shoulder.

“Best night of your life, right?”

You were quiet for a second, then smiled shyly.

“…Yeah. It really was.”

Mina squealed and hugged you sideways.

“That’s my girl! Now tell me everything. Start from when you left the party. I want the uncensored version.”

You were still lying in bed, laughing with Mina as you told her (with heavy censorship) some details from the night before. After a few minutes, you decided you really needed to change clothes. Your body was deliciously sore, but you couldn’t stand wearing just Chan’s huge shirt anymore.

“Wait, I’m gonna change real quick,” you said, getting up slowly with a groan.

Mina dramatically threw herself onto your bed and took a sip of her coffee.

“Go ahead, take it all off. I’ve seen you naked plenty of times. No shame, you little slut.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled the oversized shirt over your head, leaving you in just your panties. That’s when it happened.

You looked down at your body to check the damage Chan had left… and froze.

Right in the center of your chest, between your breasts, was his signature in bold black permanent marker — big, stylish, exactly like the autographs he usually gives. And written right underneath it in clear capital letters:

“PROPERTY OF BANG CHAN"

You blinked. Once. Twice.

“…No.”

Mina, who had been scrolling on her phone, looked up.

“What’s wrong?”

You pointed at your own chest in pure shock.

Mina’s eyes widened. She slowly sat up on the bed and let out the loudest scream you’d ever heard in your life.

“HOLY FUUUUUUUUCK!!!”

She jumped up and got closer, almost spilling her coffee, staring at your breasts like they were the most ridiculous masterpiece she’d ever seen.

“He signed them?! He literally signed your tits?! And wrote ‘PROPERTY OF BANG CHAN’?! Girl, this isn’t fanfiction anymore, this is straight-up 2000s porn plot shit!”

You stood there, mouth open, still staring down at your chest.

“I… I can’t believe he did this. When the hell did he even…?”

“Probably while you were passed out from all the orgasms,” Mina said with zero filter, still staring. “Jesus Christ, look at his handwriting. It’s actually pretty. The man has style even when marking his territory.”

You covered your face with both hands, mortified but also laughing nervously.

“I’m going to kill him. I swear to God I’m going to kill him. How am I supposed to remove this? It’s permanent marker! Mina, I have a meeting tomorrow!”

Mina burst out laughing, holding her stomach.

“Imagine you in a serious meeting, open your blazer and there it is — ‘Property of Bang Chan’ written across your tits. Best presentation of your life.”

“Stop laughing! This isn’t funny!” you complained, but you were already laughing with her, half-hysterical.

“It’s extremely funny! The man fucked you until your brain melted and still had time to autograph you like you were one of his posters. This is peak degeneracy. He treated you like an official trophy.”

You looked down at your chest again and sighed, gently running your fingers over the signature.

“…His handwriting is kind of nice, though.”

Mina threw a pillow at your face.

“Don’t you dare start thinking it’s cute! He literally branded you like cattle! Next step is a collar with his name on it.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you walked to the mirror to see it better.

“I still can’t believe I let him do this. I don’t even remember him grabbing a pen. I must have blacked out hard.”

“You blacked out so hard that he managed to bring you home, put you in bed, and you still didn’t wake up,” Mina said, standing behind you and looking at your reflection in the mirror. “But honestly… it looks kinda aesthetic. If you two ever break up, you could sell your tits as official Bang Chan memorabilia. You’d make a fortune.”

You turned to her, pretending to be shocked.

“You are a horrible person.”

“And you’re the girl who woke up with a famous pilot’s signature on her boobs. We’re perfect for each other.”

You shook your head, still laughing, and started looking for clothes that could hide the “artwork” as much as possible.

Just then, your phone vibrated on the nightstand.

It was a message from Chan.

Chan:

Good morning, beautiful. How are you feeling? Did you see my little gift yet? 😌

You showed the screen to Mina.

She screamed again.

“He’s even worse than I thought. Reply right now. Tell him you’re getting it tattooed permanently.”

You threw the phone onto the bed, laughing and dying of embarrassment at the same time.