✿ <- fluff ❥ <- dark ☹️ <- angst ♣ <- smut ♥ <- series
Everything I write and post will have more in-depth content and trigger warnings at the top of the posts. These CWs/TWs (content warnings and trigger warnings) can be expanded on and added at any time so if you notice something I missed, please let me know ASAP through a comment, ask, or repost.
I want to push my limits for my writing so for my asks you can send and request anything and in my response i'll let you know if anything ends up being a hard no.
Hard No List
Pedophilia
Underaged couple smut
Racism in a sexual context and Race play
Scat
「 ✦ Stray Kids ✦ 」
Chan
Kissing Chan for the first time ✿
Love you forever ✿
At your service ✿
random thoughts 1,
Lee Know
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Changbin
random thoughts 1,
Hyunjin
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Han
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Felix
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Seungmin
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I.N
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i was bambibaby-afterhours now im motley-afterhours
I stepped away from SKZ (and kpop in general) because of the Charlie Puth collab but im not getting information saying that some of boys are deleting anything that involves him from their social media accounts.
lol a lot has happened since ive been off of this blog…
im writing twilight fanfics now, i spent 3 months in korea studying at Yonsei, ended up at the same club as that Ateez sasaeng multiple times, sat through a tsunami for the NewJeans popup in Seoul and a lot more.
idk what this blog will become since im not in the mood to write about real people rn but i miss my kpop moots so im back <3
Every weekend Bakugou would invite you over to his dorm room for a study night that would always turn into a study sleepover. The two of you would go over your reading assignment, science labs, you’d even discuss potential special moves but by the time the two of you reached math it would be close to midnight and you would be tired and clingy.
Moving from your seat next to Bakugou; you climb onto his lap, facing him and wrapping your legs around his waist so that he wouldn’t be able to push you off. [not that he’d try to]
With your hands clutching the back of his shirt and your face pressed firmly into his shoulder he stops trying to work on the paper in front of him and instead rubs your back with one hand; the other going the scratch at your scalp.
“You’re so warm.” You mumble into his shoulder before letting out a deep sigh. “And I’m so tired, can we finish tomorrow please?”
With a groan, Bakugou stands and carries you to his bed.
“C’mon. Let go and go to sleep. I’ll cuddle you when I finish.” His hands are on your sides trying to pull you off but you hold on tighter. Your face scrunching up slightly.
“Or you could cuddle me now.” You peppered kisses around his face, smiling when you notice the slight blush that colored his cheeks.
“Please Bakugo.”
“Fine.” Finally, you let go, laying on his bed as you watched him put up all his schoolwork before laying beside you.
His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you on top of him. He kissed the tip of your nose gently then rolled on top of you, holding you close as you both drifted to sleep.
chris loves to be needed. he loves to be of service. all he wants is to be able to provide for the people he loves and that includes you.
he makes a point to tell you this often.
whenever he’s leaving to go to the studio in the early morning before you’re awake he’ll send you text ‘ just call me if you need anything’
when you’re out shopping together he’s quick to carry your bags and drive you around to whatever stores you want.
when you’re taking yourself out on a solo date he’ll slip his card into your wallet and press a kiss against your forehead.
“have fun on your date baby. i can’t wait to hear all about it later”
whenever you’re struggling to open something or you just want to see the muscles in his arms flex all you have to do is hold it in his direction and he’ll open it but still you look up at him with a smirk on you face as you ask, “channie can you open this please”
you know you don’t have to ask him for small things like this but you do anyway just to see his eyes sparkle at the words ‘channie please’ and the way he looks so proud to be able to respond with “of course” “yes” “i got it”
chris proposing to his girlfriend while they’re cuddling on the couch watching movies. it’s been a great day, chris finished working early and took his girl out shopping then dinner at a small family run restaurant. he’s just so happy and content with you in his arms in the living room of your new apartment and he cant help himself.
he’d look down at his love while she talks about whatever movie is playing completely oblivious to the pretty little ring he places on her lap. he’d give her thigh a little squeeze and she’d look down and that’s when she’d notice it.
there’s tears in her eyes when she looks up at him and the only words she can get out is, “you like me that much?”
chris let out a small laugh and go, “like you? baby i love you. will you let me love you forever?”
a/n: i hope you like this and if you want this for the other members please let me know <3
You would have to kiss him first.
But you’d be so used to him kissing you on the cheek and on the top of your head that when you finally reach up to press your lips against his there’s no nervous uncertainty at the back of your mind telling you to stop.
It would definitely be after one of you does something you’re proud of like winning an award, passing your finals, debuting, graduating university.
Or even something small like finally finding the shoes or book that you’ve been looking for for months now
He would grab you by the waist and pull you in close while you press soft little kisses all over his face
His big warm hands holding you firmly, thumbs rubbing circles in your skin
You’d either hold him by the waistband of his pants, gripping the sides of his sweatshirt or your arms around his neck
It doesn’t matter just as long as you’re able to keep him close to you
When you’re done he would still press a kiss to the top of your head and pull you into a big hug ~que the tears cause i miss channies room~
꒰ b. chan x fem!reader ꒱
tags: mdni! smut, daddy kink, idol!chan, soft!dom chan, fwb, mention of sexting, sex toys, lube, f. orgasm (multiple), masturbation (m. & f.), somnophilia, clit play, boob play, light choking, slight dirty talk, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, like dubcon at first??
word count: ≈5.3k
m. list ֺ 𓏲𝄢̣̣̥ taglist
wen’s note: like and reblog this if u love skz :3 .ᐟ.ᐟ <3!!! and if u want chan’s bfc (big-fat-c*ck...) down ur throat lmao. bring back daddy chan!!
Chan has been thinking about it for quite some time... and lately it’s all that crosses his mind in the solitude of his nights, when he feels his needs rising and inevitably misses everything about you with a heated-wrenching feeling, he wonders... when was the last time you called him daddy while you were having sex?
It’s almost an automatic thought that he takes refuge in during long, heavy days of pure stress. Rehearsals, filming, traveling, overloaded schedules where he barely has time for himself at night when he just gets to “sleep” in his room... that’s why, when he’s alone, he can only think about human contact with someone other than a coworker or one of the members of his band, and that’s when you inevitably pop into Chan’s mind. Every single detail he already knows about you, like a map by heart.
You text each other quite often, but due to your schedules—especially his—it’s almost impossible for you to see each other. And, although it may sound bad... when he thinks of you, he thinks of sex. Chan is a very energetic and sexual person, and extremely organized, tidy, with clear thoughts; his time counted even when he’s supposed to be resting, so he always tries to organize everything that goes through his mind. He’s straightforward with you—sex and friendship, that’s all he’s looking for in this very busy period of his life; always a good time with you, one kind of time and company he misses madly right now. But he gets a little unhinged when he feels sexually frustrated and stressed—like this precisely moment—, and when night falls, his mind is flooded with images of you, always ready to help each other, relieving each other’s stress, enjoying the sweetest pleasure, your body on top of his or vice versa, the feel of your skin, your femininity, your mouth around him, sucking hard on every ounce of energy he so desperately wants to release.
That’s how you two work. But it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other.
And, clearly, it’s no surprise that he’s been quite frustrated lately. He’s alone; his hand isn’t enough, porn no longer satisfies him. Jeongin, also tired, is always hanging around in the apartment they share, so there’s no privacy. So he just thinks and fantasizes about you, mindlessly scrolling through social media to see what his fans think of him, trying to distract himself with anything he can in the little free time he has, and suddenly the question pops into his head—when was the last time you called him daddy in bed?
The thought is silly and even somewhat amusing at first. Chan must admit that he quite enjoys that little kink a little too much; it makes him feel even more dominant and authoritative. You know it. Everyone knows it. His fans assume it with considerable certainty.
But suddenly the thought is not so lighthearted, and he remembers that it has probably been months since he has enjoyed very dirty sex with you, moaning “daddy” over and over again. Lately, all your encounters have been hot, but normal, no roleplaying, no toys, just both of you using your bodies. But the memories don’t help him at all. He shudders and shifts uncomfortably, clearly aroused every time he relives those moments. He really needs you.
And then, that idea haunts him. He longs for the moment when he can be alone with you and feel you again. He buys you lingerie and new sex toys, and lives with his feelings on the surface, hoping that one day you can both play again just like before.
And that luck comes on a rather random day. Jeongin asks to finish his schedule earlier than expected, all the members agree, and Chan comfortably asks him:
“Are you going to the apartment to rest?”
Jeongin raises an eyebrow at his question, smiling with his typical innocent but mischievous smile, narrowing his eyes, and showing his teeth. He’s up to something, Chan knew it instantly, yet he simply tries to keep the conversation light.
“No. I have plans. I won’t be coming to the dorm today.”
That surprises and excites him a little at the same time.
“Oh yeah? What plans? Outside of schedule, right?”
“Yes, yes. Personal stuff.”
Chan examines him and can’t resist blurting out:
“You got a date? With who?”
“None of your business,” the younger one jokes.
Chan laughs, but doesn’t let his serious side go, always trying to keep up their image in order.
“Be very careful that you don’t get cau...”
“Caught. Yes, I know. I have everything under control.”
And from that moment on, Chan didn’t hesitate for a second to send you a message asking if you could come over to his apartment that night... since Jeongin wouldn’t be there.
Neither of you had plans to see each other so spontaneously, yet you confirmed as soon as you received the message because you knew exactly what it implied and meant. You had been teasing and had been needing each other for a long time.
And that day was no exception. The first thing Chan does after inviting you to his apartment is send you photos of himself at the gym, wearing his tight, slutty tank top, his very muscular and attractive figure on display, his veins showing, his impressive arms looking so deliciously tempting; him telling you that after the gym and taking care of a few things, you can meet up.
You can’t help but get a little turned on, you know how flirtatious he is, but you still fall for it every time. You rush out of work and return the favor—a rather provocative photo after getting out of the shower, telling him you’re getting ready to see him.
Both are incredibly eager to see each other, awakening every sense and desire for one another. However, just when Chan thinks his day at work is over, an unfinished business comes up that he must take care of. He believes it won’t take too long, and between his impatience and desperation, he encourages you, saying that you should go to his apartment anyway and that he’ll be there soon, and then you’ll be able to see each other. To tease you even more, he texts you the following, which makes your skin tingle.
Sweetie, go to my room when you get there
Daddy has a surprise for you
Something we’re going to have fun with later 😉
I can’t wait to see you, baby ㅠㅠ
You understand everything perfectly... It’s been a while since Chan called himself Daddy, and the memories of those times, the feelings still lingering in you, excite you even more. So... it is that kind of encounter.
So you go to his apartment, all dolled up for him. You know the key-code to get in, and you’re immediately embraced by the clean smell of his home. The apartment is spotless, even though Chan travels a lot, quite often, and normally you’d leave your suitcase there, a little mess because you know you’ll be leaving again anyway, but not for Chan. He’s very strict about order and cleanliness.
You walk around his apartment, certainly happy, somewhat skeptical that you are finally there, that at any moment he will walk through that door and you will see each other... you think about what you will do to him... about the small talk you’ll obviously have before even starting anything sexual, catching up on details of each other’s lives that you haven’t mentioned in messages, and finally, you’ll both slowly get closer, letting the tension consume you... and so, your first big desire is to give him head, to suck his cock hard, keeping your body sensitive, excited, your mind, mouth, and hands terribly busy... that’s what you want right now and couldn’t wait for it.
Finally, you head to his room, impatient to see what you might find, but at first glance there was nothing but his perfectly tidy room.
That’s when you let him know you’ve arrived at his room and, somewhat indecisive, you decide to play his little game of seduction, calling him daddy at the end of the message.
Chan’s ears turn red as he reads your message at the company building, then smiles, and quickly replies that you should check his closet and the drawer in the dresser next to his bed. You obey him and are surprised to see a box of pink lingerie and a drawer full of new vibrators and dildos. Your reaction is to let out a little laugh as you think about how perverted he has become with you, but impatience returns as you realize once again that he would continue with the game, his undeniable daddy kink, his dominant and authoritative side. And then you come up with the great idea of waiting for him, already wearing the lingerie, even though you already had a cute set on under your clothes.
And again, you start teasing Chan. You send him provocative photos of yourself wearing the lingerie from the best possible angles, lying on his bed, selfies in his mirror, saying how much you miss your daddy and want him to be right there with you.
On the other hand, Chan can’t do anything but swallow nervously and tense up when he sees your photos, pretending to look at something on his phone.
But, unfortunately, the first few hours pass, and Chan hasn’t arrived at his apartment; he’s stuck in that last-minute meeting. You both start to get frustrated and bored.
You think that maybe it wasn’t the right time to see each other, plus you’re tired from your long day at work. So, you’re about to take a sweet nap in his bed, surrounded by his masculine scent and perfectly clean sheets, still wearing lingerie... when your intrusive thoughts take over—what if you masturbate?
You’re slightly overwhelmed, physically tired from the stress and work you’ve been carrying all week, but at the same time, you’re excited, not only sexually, but also knowing that you would release stress and be pleased by Chan, and just horny. Missing him, missing the idea of exactly how he fucks you, which now seems so far away, given the hours that have passed, and he’s not even on his way home.
You lazily pick up the vibrator and a dildo and, with a resigned sigh, still slightly embarrassed, lying on his bed, you take off your panties, open your legs, and press the vibrator against your clit. The sensation is not long in coming; you are so sensitive, so aroused that you let out a soft moan as the toy does its job. You move gently in his soft sheets, your pelvis wiggles, and you lightly massage your breasts... thinking exactly about him, the way he does it, and how he touches you. You gently press the toy harder against your sensitive spot, enduring the gentle pain and overstimulation it is becoming. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, close your eyes, enduring as long as your body can take it, until having your first orgasm, your muscles throbbing and your femininity already lubricated. You quickly turn off the vibrator and enjoy the small orgasm for the remaining seconds, staring at the ceiling.
But climaxing alone leaves you feeling even emptier. And Chan’s sudden message, which notification sounds alarms you at just the right moment, gives you a very good and dirty idea.
Chan apologizes again for not arriving yet. And you, without any remorse, send him a short video—lying on his bed, you show your face, slightly flushed with embarrassment, and your still blossoming and intense arousal from your recent orgasm. You bite your lip subtly, and the camera on your phone slowly pans down, capturing your breasts in that lingerie, your hand sensually moving down your body until it reaches your pussy. You record it directly and explicitly, your wet, throbbing pussy, spread your lips for him, and then you proceed to record how your entrance expands so that the dildo slides inside you. You moan softly and penetrate yourself only twice, and the video cuts off to send it to Chan.
i really miss u, daddy 😔
come over quick
im touching myself already
thinking of u
im waiting
You masturbated a couple more times, ignored Chan’s messages, and got distracted for a few minutes. You came twice, left the dildo coated with your wet pussy, and suddenly you stopped. You’re exhausted, partially satisfied, but satisfied nonetheless, and you feel too lazy to get up and clean up the little mess you’ve made. You put the toys aside, close your eyes, and your body unconsciously relaxes completely, leaving you pathetically asleep in a peaceful, deep, and pleasant sleep.
Meanwhile, Chan opens his eyes in surprise as soon as he plays the video. He is grateful that no one is next to him and that he is wearing an AirPod, so he watches the video, completely flustered the first time, and then repeats it with his heart racing and appreciates the details. The exquisite image of what he should have been satisfying himself with long ago if he weren’t stuck in a meeting, your sweet moans directly into his ear, and the soft sound of your wet pussy when you touch it and insert the toy into yourself... Chan swallows nervously, clears his throat, and feels his cock harden. He has to get out of there and see you as soon as possible; he can’t stand it for another second. If the meeting went on any longer, he would have to interrupt it for a quick bathroom break and jerk off right there, given how horny and needy he’s getting.
It’s already quite late by the time Chan finally arrives home, slightly worried and embarrassed that he’s kept you waiting, that because of him the plan hasn’t worked out as you both hoped. Not to mention that he hasn’t heard from you since you sent him that video. He doesn’t know if you’re angry because he was late, if you’ve left, although he realizes you’re still there when he sees your shoes in the foyer.
Chan smirks as he approaches you, resigned to the fact that tonight’s plans are ruined because he refuses to wake you up, and he’s a little tired himself. So his next thought is that he’ll take a shower and lie down next to you, see what tomorrow brings for you two. However, that tender perception he had of you vanishes when he’s only a few feet away, getting a better look at you. His smile fades gently, and he carefully examines every inch of you. You are asleep on your side, your hands cushioning your cheek, your butt slightly raised, naked from the waist down, panties and used sex toys carelessly tossed aside in contrast to your angelic appearance.
His jaw tenses because, despite being tired, he has been holding back his desires for quite some time... and seeing you like this, so innocently provocative in a position that only worsens his dirty thoughts and deep lust, doesn’t help.
Chan takes a step back, restraining himself, before losing himself in the curves of your figure that lead to your exposed vulnerability, analyzing it in detail, leaving him like a pervert who memorizes and watches the speed at which you breathe while you sleep.
He decides to get in the shower, trying to calm down, hoping the water will lower his arousal, but it seems almost impossible; he feels completely uncomfortable as he feels his erection rise again, this time fully erect, hard and firm, as if he had taken a pill to achieve the perfect state of firmness.
He sighs in frustration and grabs himself, trying to masturbate with the water falling on his body... but it just felt so wrong, the friction of his hand, his attempt to pull it, wasn’t satisfying him. He didn’t want his hands, or to do it himself, let alone when the image of you is engraved in his mind, sleeping so peacefully and half-naked, or the image of touching yourself, waiting for him. He couldn’t help it; you are there, lying on his bed like a helpless sleeping beauty.
He finishes showering, awkwardly putting on his underwear as his member is sensitive and the fabric rubs against it. Chan stands there, in front of his bed, watching you occupy a sweet space on it. He thinks his erection will go away, that he’ll take a deep breath and just focus on sleeping... but he’s just so fucking horny right now. He’s even shirtless because of how hot his body temperature feels.
Chan didn’t want to do it, but he does it anyway, looking at you again, even more closely; he’s surprised that his noise didn’t wake you up. You must be fast asleep, and it seems that you are indeed. Unlike when he found you, you’ve moved a little; one of your legs is still bent, while the other is stretched out. You’re still sleeping on your side... and your pussy is still exposed, looking so appetizing. All of you. He doesn’t think he can hold out that long, not with you like this.
He sighs in frustration once more, wondering what he should do. Wake you up and immediately confess that he wants sex? Chan didn’t want to complicate things further, so he takes the lubricant, pulls down his shorts and underwear, and begins to masturbate with the image of you on your back, ass round and up for him, lips sweetly together.
He puts lubricant on his hand and starts from the tip, moving down to his swollen length. He bites his lip and throws his head back for a second, his breathing and pulse quickening. There is a certain guilt in his conscience, as he is like a pervert, jerking off his cock, trying not to moan loudly, touching himself in front of the image of you asleep.
Still, he can’t help himself. The lubricant slides deliciously over his very erect cock. He tightens his grip, watches you, and imagines that it’s your tight pussy, that you‘re there for him, taking his size inside you, moaning, writhing, and asking for more and more in your sweet voice.
But you have no idea what’s going on around you. You’re comfortably asleep. Meanwhile, Chan is struggling to come, holding back his grunts, breathing deeply, masturbating harder, the room filling with the sound of his hand satisfying his penis and desire... yet he feels like something is missing for him to come, and it bothers him to know exactly what it is. He wants to have you.
Would it be inappropriate to touch you? You woke him up before with your mouth on his cock... could he return the favor for the first time?
He doesn’t think twice and acts almost on impulse. He thinks that if you wake up, he might be able to slowly and gently persuade you to do it, and if not... at least he could touch or caress you, since he can’t resist any longer. Chan carefully lies down next to you, behind you. You feel a slight weight beside you, but you remain asleep, unaware of what is surrounding you. Chan breathes in your scent and observes you intently, from your hair to every detail of your relaxed body, breathing calmly.
But having you even closer makes it harder for him to control himself. He can appreciate in greater detail how sweetly wet you still are, your entrance glistening slightly. And yes, you drifted off an hour ago, body still warm and slick from your earlier touches, hips tingling, thighs slightly parted, every curve alive with sensitivity. You had anticipated Chan touching you.
He can’t resist, and his hand slides carefully down your hip, at first brushing against you with the utmost delicacy, barely even touching you. You feel a soft tickling sensation, and your body reacts by twitching slightly. Chan pulls his hand away and waits a few seconds, but you remain asleep, so he continues, moving closer to you. His caresses remain delicate, but soon become persistent and present. His hand moves from your waist to your hip, where he traces slow, teasing circles, and a shiver runs through you unconsciously. Your back arches slightly, and your skin gently brushes Chan’s exposed, sensitive cock, which throbs intensely and makes him moan softly.
At that point, Chan believes that once again he cannot endure, besides he conveniently finds it very difficult to masturbate and touch you at the same time in that position, and his impulses and desires once again whisper and suggest ideas to him, such as simply sliding into you, fucking you gently while you sleep without interrupting your rest, and, if he does, wakes you up, he’d just justifying himself.
His heart races, but somehow he believes that this is the only way he can release all his tension and sexual frustration—by finally taking you.
He convinces himself that it will only be this once, that if it bothers you, he will stop, and that in the best-case scenario, you won’t even notice. He would be very careful.
He had been ignoring the thought, but it was more than clear that it simply turned him on to see you lying there, peacefully asleep, and that he could fuck you carefully, almost like a secret. A naughty, risky act.
It was something so daring that it really got him going right now. So he does it that way, slowly, stealthily, and carefully; he positions his body, holds his cock, his hands almost trembling from how energetically nervous he is. The silence in the room is quite loud in a way, and in his mind, he just repeats over and over, do it, do it.
Chan rubs his glans, coated in precum, against your slick folds and entrance. He moans softly and closes his eyes because he can still feel the warmth of your intimacy and finally he presses against you from behind, the warmth of both sexes connecting, his member gliding easily into your already wet insides, and the effect of his already well-lubricated cock. He lets out a needy and ragged sigh, every muscle in his body contracting at the most delicate and simple action. He waits for a reaction from you, but at first, there is none. Chan had never been this careful with you before; he was barely just adjusting himself inside.
Gently, he pushes himself a little further, still without touching you, watching closely as your pussy subtly stretches to make space for him. His tip rests at your entrance and stays there, secure and warm, superficially inside you, but incredibly satisfying enough to begin delicately provoking his collapse. Chan thinks for a moment that just the tip, he’d do his best to fuck you like that, playing with it and with your cunt delicately, just enough to come and not wake you up, as to what would happen if he tried to penetrate you. However, you react unconsciously, causing an exasperated growl to escape from him, fueling his desire to simply put it all in without a second thought; your hips tilt instinctively, adjusting to him better, inches below just his glans, you arch your back, and your thighs tighten to almost guide him.
It’s even better than he had imagined. The idea of fucking you like this fills him completely with a wild and almost uncontrollable urge. Even so, he remains still, his muscles tensing tighter, the rest of his length throbbing with the same intensity as his heartbeat. There’s something twisted and so hot about doing it in the dark, hiding, even from you.
Chan bites his lower lip hard, checking to see if you’re still asleep, and you are. He dares to touch you again, his hand resting on your hip as he tries to slide even deeper inside you, slowly and gently, watching for your every reaction. He controls and contains his moans of pleasure, at the same time refraining from pushing too far into you, as he thinks it’s impossible for you not to feel his swollen cock suddenly slip inside you.
Soon, part of his cock is embraced by the warmth, wetness, and tightness of your pussy, ready but completely relaxed. Even so, as you both feel it, your muscles and body react on their own, you gently arch your back more, your thighs move with a very provocative impatience, you hum sweetly—unaware, confusing, moving your torso a little, and, best of all for Chan, your pussy prepares itself, adapting to him, throbbing gently as you feel him.
Chan tries to move, penetrating you delicately in a sweet back and forth motion, pulling out a little but not completely—his cock teases the surface of your entrance and then slides back into you, just a few, but very significant inches below his glans, light enough but intense to make his shaft throb and gently squeeze his already swollen veins, of his entire arousal that erects every sense of him.
He continues like that, his hand holding your hip without pressing hard, every muscle tense, almost whimpering and sweating from the indescribable sensation that brings him to his imminent climax. Your body reacts to him, to each of his delicate thrusts, spreading your walls, getting wetter for him due to the constant action and friction, making you slick and ready, shivering slightly as warmth takes over your femininity and controls each gentle pulsation, getting you used to him. Meanwhile, tiny, soft breaths escape without awareness, your face remains calm, eyes closed, utterly unaware of what’s happening.
Chan caresses you without losing his rhythm, completely blinded by the overwhelming, pumping and electrifying sensation that runs passionately through his veins and every corner of his body. His knuckles and fingertips skim your skin, from your thighs to your bare arm. He thinks you look so angelic like this, breathing deeply, moving your body as you try to adapt to whatever you’re feeling; with every movement that makes your hips press back, thighs clench, the subtle lift of your hips, spine arching, and soft, unthinking moans escape. Your body pulses instinctively around him with each deliberate thrust, quivering and tightening Chan, whose body is desperately begging to reach orgasm.
He continues, slow and deliberate, letting your body’s natural rhythm dictate the pace because he doesn’t want to wake you up. And he thinks he can control himself, and he does for a good while, until he feels his orgasm building slowly, pleasantly, and a little painfully.
Chan loses himself for a moment, the tense muscles in his thighs begin to tremble, even though he has been trying to maintain the best possible position, in addition to his impending climax. He whimpers, closes his eyes tightly as he sighs and moans softly, “fuck, f-fuck,” feeling pleasantly overwhelmed. His grip on your hips tightens, and he unconsciously lets himself go deeper into you.
And, for you, right there it becomes inevitable not to feel it, all of him and the act, the heaviness and warmth of his figure behind you, his hand holding you, and the constant tingling pulsation in your pussy that you know so well, but which takes you completely by surprise as you slowly regain consciousness.
Your eyes open slowly, and you’re a little startled at first. Your heart races, and your senses become alert as you feel him pressing inside you with more intensity.
You know it’s him, but you’re still confused, so the first thing you say is:
“Ch-Channie?”
But he doesn’t stop, because he feels so close, right at the peak of his pleasure, excited in complete bliss. He leans close and murmurs warmly against your ear:
“Shh… shhh… it’s okay, baby, you can stay still, daddy’s gonna cum in your pretty pussy, my princess.”
You swallow nervously and blink suddenly. His soft, rough tone of voice makes you shiver, and your mind starts to catch up with the sensations your body has already known.
Chan takes advantage of the fact that you’ve woken up and abruptly moves his body closer, pushing his firm cock deeper into you, and begins to massage your breasts, holding you with a strength that only he can control. Fighting him is futile, even though you think that’s not exactly what you want right now.
“Cha-n,” you whimper.
You are still in a gentle state of confusion, but you are starting to get excited by feeling helpless, trapped by his strong grip, his cock burying itself deep into your already very wet pussy. You don’t know when you got like this, but you simply love that your body has accepted it.
“Should I stop, princess?” he adds in a sultry sigh.
You come back to your senses, although Chan’s big cock inside you numbs you as you revel in pleasure and a subtle burning sensation. You whimper as you try to adapt to his faster rhythm, to his cock deep inside you, stretching and pushing you from within.
You shake your head frantically and your mind fills with so many things you want to do, move impatiently, look at his face, appreciate his new haircut that you haven’t seen, kiss him… but you limit yourself to the immediate sensations, responding with a soft moan:
“No-no, daddy, please, keep going—don’t stop.”
“Good girl. It’s okay, I knew you’d take daddy’s cock very well. I know you like it when I fuck you like this—with daddy waking you up inside you, huh, isn’t that right?”
Chan presses his body against yours, thrusting deeply and somewhat roughly, skin colliding, the sounds of your excited bodies joining together, you can barely adapt.
“Fu-ck-daddy, it’s too much!” you moan.
Chan shudders when he hears your sweet moans and that little nickname and game of domination coming from your lips.
“It’s okay. My princess can take it, right?”
“Y-yes, daddy!”
You’re very easy to arouse, especially when it comes from him, and in the surprising, sensitive, and anticipatory state you were in. You were practically ready for him. You watch his pale hand with his protruding veins massage your breasts and then descend to your clit where he indulges in playing with it. You writhe with pleasure and impatience, overwhelmed and breathless.
“Stay still, baby. Let daddy take care of you, okay? I owe it to you, my sweetheart, after making you wait so long that you had to touch yourself.”
You obey him. Chan moans in your ear as he penetrates you hard. His arm slides beneath your face and takes complete control of your body, holding your neck gently.
“I bet you enjoyed your new little toys, but nothing like daddy filling your little pussy with his cum, baby girl.”
You feel his cock twitching inside you, and, followed by a soft whimper, he fills you with his warm semen. However, he doesn’t stop, he continues to thrust into you during his orgasm, his hand on your throat and caressing your sensitive spot with the other. You become more tense and impatient, he knows how close you are too.
“Cum, cum for me, princess, oh fuck—yes! Do it. Cum on daddy’s cock.”
And you release yourself. Cumming shakely for him in a breathless whimper.
Chan slows the pace of his thrusts until he stops, releases his grip, his hand moves from your clit to embrace your waist, and lets you both feel the pulsing intimacy of each other after your orgasm. He sighs and plants a warm kiss behind your ear.
“You did very well, sweetheart. Sleep again, you can rest with my cock inside you.”
in which chris has a baby dream on valentine’s day.
Chris loves Valentine’s Day. And no, not because of the sexual expectation—not entirely, save for after he takes you to a nice restaurant later that night—but because of the intimacy, the opportunity to spoil you just a bit more without an excuse on his tongue for your feigned scolding.
He’s always adored acts of service, after all.
Which is why, per your request to stay in this Valentines, you’re curled up together in bed until late that morning. Where afternoon sunlight peers through the curtains, limbs entangled like knotted ribbon. His beefy arm, always so warm, has curled its way around you, cocooned against his chest and left subject to wherever his dreams tug him.
In this case, you’re currently being tugged to his other side, maneuvered as if a ragdoll by the evidently unconscious husband of yours, leaving no argument but a grunt from yourself.
The thing is, you can always tell when he has an intense dream. Face scrunching, hugging you tighter to his body akin to a child. Close, perfect nose pressed to your neck, in your hair. Seeking your scent as you do him.
After a particularly deep breath, he wakes himself up, bleary eyes cracking open before grumbling to himself and ushering you closer (if closer was even possible at this rate).
”Dreamin’?” You prompt gently, voice rasping against lack of use, gaze flickering up to his equally sleepy one past your lashes.
Unconsciously, his index eases a strand of hair from your face, careful to tuck behind your ear.
Tender, mindful. Following that comes a kiss to your forehead, his lips curving into this giddy smile you’ve come to adore.
”The best dream,” He answers, pupils dilating as you roll around to face him. Soaking in your expressions amidst a hazy, post-slumber daze. Thumbing away the sleep from your eyes, another kiss arrives, this time on your nose.
And it’s those next words of his that clarify that it wasn’t a nightmare he was experiencing.
”We had a baby.” He whispers, the words disbelieving even to his own ears. Soft, tentative. Like holding an egg oh so carefully in fear it would break at the slightest movement.
“She was perfect.”
To see your husband become emotional over something already broke your heart into pieces, but it was an entirely different rodeo when he was happy. Glossy eyes, this marveling smile. A tone so sweet you had no need for chocolates today.
He taps the edge of your lips.
”Had your smile. ‘Was so happy just to see me.”
His arm comes up over his eyes, shifting onto his back. And while initially content with letting him back in awe, his hiccuping sniffle was something you weren’t prepared for.
Springing upwards instantaneously, you patiently ease his hands from his eyes, shushing the tears away with chaste pecks to his face and one slow, final kiss that the both of you melt into instinctively. Naturally.
”Didn’t mean to get so emotional-“
Another hiccup. You hush his words.
Another kiss, sighing into your lips.
”I just love you so much-“
Another kiss, his hands curling around your lower back where you prop yourself atop him.
Silence consumes the room. But it isn’t uncomfortable. Steady, soft. Your fingers in his hair, his palms running slow patterns along your hips.
It had been a discussion. Once or twice. After four years of marriage, another member of the family. Contemplating, debating. Ensuring. Emotional wellness, financial security. The little things that Chris treated like religion. Getting blood tests, working out more.
His responsibility as much as yours to be a parent, he would remind you. Remind you that pregnancy wouldn’t be a process you’d endure alone.
”Chris.” Your turn to whisper, nose buried into his cheek. He hums in response.
”I’m ovulating.”
A wordless: I’m ready.
Maybe you thought his reaction would be immediate. Shell-shocked, gaping. Totally oblivious until nearly thirty seconds later where he falls frozen still, like a fish out of water.
And very quickly does the man come to realize it wasn’t a fact, but an invitation.
His ears warm a thousand degrees, the bedroom dissolving into your laughter and his blazing embarrassment where he hides himself in your neck.
Twisting the cap onto her mascara bottle, Y/N smiled in the mirror when her husband's sturdy forearms snaked around her waist. His face appeared beside her own a split second later, and a twin smile to hers painted his handsome features as he planted a gentle kiss to the curve of her jaw.
“Wanna go shopping?” Chris hummed, locking eyes with Y/N's in the mirror.
Y/N's eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Shopping?”
“Mhm.”
“But you hate shopping.”
“Nope. I hate shopping for myself. But I like watching you shop,” Chris grinned, and he withdrew one of his arms so he could slip his fingers into his pocket. A thin card winked at her in the mirror from between his two fingers. “Whaddya say?”
Lips twitching at the sight of the card, Y/N leaned back into her husband's arms. “You have issues, you know that?”
“Maybe,” Chris chuckled. He nuzzled his nose into crook of her neck. “I like watching you spend my money. It's hot.”
“What if I wanna spend my own money?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But - “
“Nope. Out of the question.”
“What do you want me to get?”
“Whatever you want. Clothes, makeup, skincare, art stuff, house stuff, a new espresso machine … “
“I'm not getting a new espresso machine!” Y/N squeaked, aghast.
“I'm just saying,” Chris grinned devilishly. “If you wanted to, I'm all for it. Get anything. Whatever makes you happy. No limit.”
“You're insane.”
“Well, okay maybe there is a limit.”
“Oh, thank God - “
“ - A minimum. No maximum. But definitely a minimum.”
“Christopher … “
Giggling at the look on his wife's face, Chris buried his face back into her neck and peppered her fragrant skin with tender kisses. “So? Wanna go?”
“What do you get out of this?” Y/N asked, closing her hands over her husband's clasped fingers.
He shrugged, pulling her flush against his chest. “Spending time with you?”
“You always spend time with me.”
“Mhm.”
“You really want me to blow up your card?”
“Please do.”
“Why?”
“Because ‘s fun.”
“Christopher.”
“Baby.”
Lips quirking up at the corners, Y/N turned around in Chris's embrace and looped her arms around his neck. Her fingers sunk into his fluffy hair, and she tugged lightly at the dark swirls slipping over her skin as she smiled up at him.
“I like your makeup today,” Chris mused, sliding his gaze over his wife's face in a slow, honeyed drag. His fingers delicately traced over the soft skin at the outer corners of her eyes. “Looks like you have little stars on your eyelids.”
Y/N beamed. She had smudged on a shimmery, sophisticated eyeshadow a single shade darker than her skin tone, and she hadn't thought he'd notice; but somehow he did, just as he always did.
“Really?” She hummed, fluttering her eyelashes at him.
Chris chuckled. “Really. You look beautiful.”
“You sure you're not just trying to convince me to agree to your crazy proposal?”
“No! I mean it,” Chris laughed, nudging her nose with his own. “But speaking of … “
Giggling under her breath, Y/N sighed. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“We have to get more matching clothes,” Y/N said sweetly. “Pj's or whatever. I don't mind as long as they match.”
Letting out a puff of laughter, Chris dropped his head, his cheek dimpling on one side. “Baby … we have an entire wardrobe of matching clothes. Literally … there's two of everything.”
“So? You can never have enough matching stuff,” Y/N dropped a kiss onto his pinkening nose.
Biting his lip, Chris nodded with another heart wrenching grin. “Okay. Deal.”
“I can't believe you're doing this to me,” Y/N said then, letting Chris fold her hand into his and pull her out of the bedroom. “You're a serious enabler. You don't just wanna stay at home?”
“We can stay at home afterwards,” Chris said. “Let me be your sugar daddy.”
“You're always being my sugar daddy.”
“Yeah. So really, you should be used to it.”
“It's hard to get used to it when I feel guilty about it.”
“Hey, no,” Frowning, Chris stopped moving and turned to face his wife again. “Do you really feel guilty?”
“Maybe,” Y/N wrinkled her nose. “I just … don't wanna make you feel like I'm using you? Or like I only care about your money … because I don't care about your money. I mean I do, but not like that … “
“Hey,” Chris cupped her face in his hands, though his palms rested closer to her hairline than normal so as not to disturb her makeup, something that Y/N registered with a twinge to her heart. “I've never thought that about you, or felt that way. Like, ever. I'm your husband, baby. It doesn't matter what the state of the world is like these days … it's my job to provide for you. And even if it wasn't, I still would. Because I want to. I love spending my money on you. Like … everything I earn is yours. You know that, right?”
Eyes wide, Y/N continued to stare st her husband's face. There was an earnest expression floating about his pupils, and her breath hitched.
“Don't ever think like that,” Chris hummed, kissing her forehead. “I love you. And I always want to spend my money on the people I love. That's just who I am … so you gotta get used to it. Because I'm not stopping.”
At that, Y/N giggled, her eyes prickling. “Okay,” she whispered. And then, “You're gonna make my makeup run.”
“Ah … we can't have that, aye?” Chris grinned. Gently sweeping the tip of his index finger just below her eyelashes to catch any wetness threatening to spill, Chris pressed another kiss to her nose before pulling his wife into his arms with an affectionate squeeze.
☆
“Gimme that,” Chris swiped a large shopping bag out of his wife's hand. “Mine.”
“Hey, I can carry it,” Y/N huffed and reached out for the bag, only to pout when Chris moved it away from her.
“I know you can. But that doesn't mean you have to,” Chris said cheerfully. “Ima carry all the bags … you have fun looking around.”
“But - “
“No. Buts,” his words were firm, but laced with a softness that had Y/N giving up. He stepped closer to her, his face looming a few inches above hers before he leaned down and kissed her temple. “I really don't mind. Think of it as me getting in an arm workout. You're not gonna stop me from working out, are you?”
“Well … no … “ Y/N smiled in defeat. She looked anxiously at the bag. “Are you sure?”
“Completely sure. No more worrying, yeah? I just want you to forget about everything and have fun. If things get too hectic I'll go put them in the car. Deal?” Chris nudged her shoulder with his.
“Okay,” Y/N nodded, expelling a shaky breath. Her husband was never short of chivalrous when it came to day to day tasks, yet he still managed to cause her heart to flutter each time.
If they were both at home, she would have taken his face in her hands and locked her lips over his in a kiss deep enough to drown them both.
As it was, they were both shy when it came to expressing affection loudly in public. Aside for a few discreet pecks and holding hands, they really weren't the sort of couple to perform for the people around them.
“I can't wait to kiss the life out of you when we go home,” Y/N said instead. Her voice was soft, but Chris still felt the words like a punch, temporarily winding him.
He offered her one of his charming smiles, the rich mahogany of his eyes crinkling and twinkling under the bright shopping centre lights. “Ah … don't say things like that. Now I won't be able to think about anything else.”
Giggling, Y/N reached for his free hand and curled her fingers around his palm, relishing in the steady heat pressing into her skin. “Well, too bad. I told you we should have stayed home … you're the one who wanted to come out.”
“Yeah, well … “ Chris cleared his throat, ears pink as he squeezed his wife's hand. “Anyway. You wanna go in there?”
He nodded towards one of Y/N's favourite stores, the large makeup and skincare counters visible from where they were standing.
Y/N smiled sheepishly, nodding.
“Come on then,” Chris chuckled, steering her in the direction of the entrance. He reached for one of the baskets without even needing to ask her, and he gave her a knowing scrunch of his nose when she watched him curl his fingers around the handle.
“You're gonna carry that too?” Y/N asked.
“Yep.”
“You're making my stomach flip.”
“Oh yeah? My girl feeling all shy?”
“Maybe.”
Laughing under his breath, Chris stepped closer so his front pressed gently into her side as she traced her fingers over a row of neatly arranged lipsticks. “You're adorable,” he whispered, secretly brushing his lips against her brow.
Flushing beet red, Y/N reached for one of the lipsticks and slowly twisted it up, revealing a velvety bullet. “Can I borrow your hand?”
Chris held his arm out towards her without another word. He watched curiously as she swiped the lipstick in a small smudge over the back of his hand, leaving behind a rosy swatch.
“That's pretty,” Chris mused, wiggling his fingers. He pointed to one of the lipsticks two spaces away from the one she had picked up first. “Try that one?”
“This one?”
“Yeah.”
She reached for the slightly darker shade and made a little mark on her husband's hand next to the first swatch.
“Hmm … “ Chris pucked up his lips in thought, resembling a duck. “That one's pretty too.”
Laughing, Y/N reached for a third shade. “What about this one?”
“That's … pretty,” Chris spluttered, his face breaking into a grin.
“You're just gonna say that to everything, aren't you?”
“Yep. Because everything would look pretty on you.”
“Chris,” Y/N giggled and set the tester back in his placeholder. She held up two different ones and held them close to her face, pouting as she looked up at her husband. “Okay, what about these two? Which one suits me better?”
Chris swivelled his gaze from the right lipstick, to the one in her left hand. And then back again. “Both … ?”
“No, one has to look worse than the other,” Y/N whined, moving the bullets closer to each other and holding them out to him. “Which one?”
Humming as he blinked at both lipsticks, Chris flicked his eyes up onto his wife's face instead. He studied her expectant expression, the pure trust shining in her pretty eyes, and for a moment, Chris forgot what she had even asked him.
He could stare at her face forever.
“Focus,” Y/N giggled, flushing.
“Can't help it,” Chris smiled easily. “You're too damn beautiful.”
A woman passing by the both of them smiled as she heard their words. It made Chris's skin burn with heat too, and he smiled back politely before bursting into a fit of hushed laughter with his wife.
“Now who's shy?” Y/N teased him, snickering into the lapel of his jacket as he moved closer to her, head dropping in an attempt to hide.
“Shh,” Chris's breath hitched, his smile deepening. He pulled his face back and finally pointed to the lipstick in Y/N's right hand. “That one. It'll make your eyes sparkle.”
Y/N put both testers down and picked up a fresh tube of the lipstick he had suggested before depositing it into the basket, eliciting a happy sound from the man beside her.
Eyes lighting up at something else, Y/N crouched and reached for a long, thin tube. Chris immediately held his hand out to her again, and he smiled as he studied the top of her head while she drew onto his skin again.
She smiled proudly at him when she had finished, and Chris looked down to see a glittery, multidimensional heart next to the switches of lipstick. It made him laugh, ears sizzling again, and he held his hand out of his wife's.
“Gimme,” he said, and he curled his fingers gently around her wrist.
Y/N watched as he pressed the back of his hand against the back of hers. He held it there for a second before pulling away, and Y/N giggled at the sight of a twin heart stamped onto her skin.
“It's dried down now,” Y/N mused, gently patting the glitter. “You did that so fast.”
He winked at her in response, and she curled her hand around his arm, squeezing softly as they walked further down the aisle.
Somehow, the hours they spent perusing all the different shops passed extremely quickly for Chris. He had barely noticed the time until his stomach had rumbled like thunder echoing in the skies above them, and they had stopped to eat a couple of tall burgers; he had been too busy carefully studying the changes in his wife's expression as she waded in and out of different aisles. He was sure his insides had all but melted out of sheer affection for her; Y/N wasn't the most extroverted person he knew, and despite her politeness and ability to socialise with almost anyone, she was typically quiet and reserved. But with the right person, Chris knew, she could talk and talk and talk until the sun set and came up again. It was something he had had the privilege of experiencing early on in their friendship years ago, and it was something that he would never get bored of.
The way her eyes twinkled and her face flushed as she gushed and tripped over words with excitement gave Chris the fierce urge to just scoop her up and protect her from anything and everything that could potentially hurt her. She had something to say about even the most obscure things, and Chris found himself constantly addicted to her presence by his side.
He loved seeing her like this. It filled his heart with so much light that he felt as if it might explode.
“Ooh, these look nice,” Chris snapped out of his doting daze and forced himself to pay attention to what Y/N was gesturing to. He had been too busy hanging onto her every word that he hadn't even noticed them setting foot into one of his favourite shoe shops. She was pressing onto the insoles of a dark pair of trainers, and her eyes widened. “Feel these.”
Eyebrows raised, Chris did as she said. His own eyes rounded as he squished the insoles, and he picked the shoe off of the rack, turning it around to examine the shape of it.
“Oh, woah … “ he studied the front of the shoe, fingers tracing over the detailing. “These look so comfy … “
“Try them on,” Y/N picked up the matching shoe and held it out to her husband. “I saw someone going on about these the other day - apparently they're really good for flat feet.”
At that, Chris smiled. “You did?”
“I'm always searching for the best shoes for you,” Y/N said simply. “I don't like seeing you in pain.”
Chest twinging at that, Chris took the other trainer from her and sat down on stool, sliding his current pair off. Y/N watched expectantly as he stepped into the new ones and flexed his feet up and down before standing up, firmly planting the soles into the ground.
“How do they feel?” Y/N hummed as he walked up and down the aisle.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Chris let out a slow breath. “So fucking comfy.”
“Yeah? Is there enough room for your toes?”
“There's so much room,” Chris said, and Y/N smiled when she saw the movement from the soft tops of the shoes. “The arch feels really too.”
“Rate them?”
“Ten. A strong ten,” Chris said firmly, wandering around in a circle like a puppy chasing its tail.
Giggling at that, Y/N reached for the shoebox. “I'm gonna get you them.”
“What? No, baby … we're shopping for you. Not for me.”
“But you like them,” Y/N frowned.
“They're expensive,” Chris huffed.
“You've spent an arm and a leg on me already today,” Y/N pointed out. “These shoes are nothing.”
“It doesn't feel right spending that much on me,” Chris grumbled. “I … I need to think about it.”
“No, you don't,” Y/N stepped towards him and searched his eyes with her own. “You said you want me to buy whatever makes me happy.”
“Yeah … “
“Buying you these shoes would make me happy,” Y/N said, reaching for his hand. “Really happy. I mean … it'd make me even happier if you'd let me use my money … “
“Hell no.”
“Then at least let me get you them with yours,” Y/N giggled. “You can't say no. Because then I'd be unhappy.”
Letting out a pained groan, Chris stared at the shoe in his hand. “You really want to?”
She nodded energetically, and Chris sighed in defeat.
“I win,” Y/N grinned devilishly.
As adamant as he had been about getting the shoes, Chris couldn't have been happier walking out wearing the new ones with his previous pair tucked away in the box. He was practically bouncing with each step, and Y/N couldn't help but giggle at him.
“You look like a roo,” she commented. “Do you like them?”
“I don't like that you tricked me into buying them,” Chris said through a wide grin. “But I love how they feel.”
“Good. We need to get matching stuff now.”
“Oh … I forgot about that.”
“I didn't.”
Laughing, Chris held up the bags he was holding; he had made sure to hold them all with one hand so he could hold his wife's hand with the other. “Can I go put these in the car first?”
“I told you I could hold them!”
“It's not that,” Chris grinned. “I wanna have free hands to look with when you drag me into the pj section.”
“Who said it had to be pj's?”
“It's always pj's. You want to wear matching pj's and drink matching hot chocolates while we watch movies. Which, by the way, they always end up on the floor anyway because you get too hot.”
“That's not my fault!” Y/N squealed, shivering when she suddenly imagined curling up with him later on in the evening. They had been walking around for hours, and she knew both their bodies would be shattered at the end of the day. For some reason, cuddling up like that always felt so much better. “Actually last time they ended up on the floor because you spilled your hot choccy all over me.”
“I said I was sorry!” Chris protested. He sighed then. “Well I guess I technically do owe you new pj's now that I think about it … “
“See?” Y/N playfully stuck her tongue out at him. “I know you secretly love them.”
Chris couldn't help it. He leaned forward and rubbed the tip of his nose against hers, his eyes crinkling from his loving smile. “Maybe.”
warnings: pet names, daddy content but not really, cringy sappy stuff, insecure reader, reader is feminine and dresses feminine, reader referred to as girl
an: it’s been a while since i’ve done texts and these are lowk bad lol but it came out of me so here you go ig. have this thing that i made
masterlist
everything posted here is entirely fiction and in no way represents any member of stray kids in reality
♫ now we're lying about the nights, hiding all it behind the smiles
summary: chan broke your heart, but did you really have to go and fuck his friend? he isn't all that upset, though. after all, he can play this game ten times better than you.
pairing: bang chan x fem!reader
genre: angst if you squint, smut MINORS DNI.
word count: 3.0k
warnings: 18+, mentions of a bad break up, toxic exes!!! (both reader and chan are toxic asf), revenge, lying/deceit (wait for the end lolz), pet names (baby), intense possessive/jealous themes, chan is meannn, thigh riding, biting/marking, dirty talk, degradation ("slut"), praise, hair pulling, choking, finger sucking, public sex (kinda? they’re in a car in a parking lot)
author's note: every time i listen to the weeknd i just get the urge to write the most toxic shit ever idk...proofread at 4 am tho, be gentle w me pls <3
what do you do when your boyfriend breaks up with you on your one year anniversary?
a) accept it and move on
b) cry, scream, hurl insults
c) vengefully fuck his friend
the only right answer is c, of course. it’s what he deserves, after all. he broke your heart on a special day and ruined everything, and you hate him for it.
you hate chan with a venom so intense it nearly consumes you.
your ex who somehow managed to show up at the same club as you tonight when all you wanted was to forget about him.
your ex who is currently dragging you out of said club because for some fucking reason he thinks he still can.
which sucks, because you were having so much fun dancing with your friends. but mostly sucks because you were overcome with lustful excitement from the moment he grabbed your wrist. and that told you one thing.
you don’t really hate him.
“what the fuck is your problem?” you spit once you make it outside.
his grip is firm though not painful, and it’s a reminder of all the times he’d hold your hands above your head by your wrists as he made you feel every single stroke. as soon as he releases, you rub the skin where his touch lingered. not to soothe, but to remember.
he’s lead you all the way to his car without saying a word. “you’re my problem,” he shoots back.
finally, he turns to you, and you recognize the rage. he knows. but you aren’t going to bite unless he does, so instead you play coy.
“yeah, you made that pretty clear when you broke up with me,” you scoff, but it doesn’t have the effect you were hoping for.
while you expected to watch his scowl deepen and his face harden further, you’re met with softer eyes and a sad frown. maybe he regrets what he did. maybe he actually feels bad about it.
but fuck that. he should feel bad. he should regret it. only an asshole breaks up with someone on their anniversary — so clearly, he’s an asshole. one you wish you never met, let alone gave your heart to.
“i didn’t—” he pauses, raking his hands through his hair in frustration, “fuck, i didn’t mean to hurt you. i fucked up, okay?”
you laugh dryly and tilt your head wickedly. “aw, you didn’t mean to hurt me?”
because that makes it all better. how did he manage to admit fault and avoid accountability at the same time?
“no, i didn’t,” he growls. before you know it, you’re pressed against his car door and he’s caging you there with his arms. “so tell me it’s not true. tell me you didn’t fuck him.”
there it is. you knew you could trust jisung to stir the pot. he’s basically the certified pot stirrer at this point.
“who? your friend?” you question deviously. “what’s his name again…min something?”
obviously, you remember his friend's name well enough. but your finger tapping your chin is meant as a cruel taunt, and it’s working. whatever softness you once found in his features is wiped away again, replaced by pure fury.
“you didn’t fuck minho,” he says flatly. like he’s offering you a chance to go back, to not find out what he has planned for you if you don’t.
only there’s no going back now. you grin right in his face, illuminated by the moonlight in the otherwise dark parking lot. “oh, i did. and i loved it. because guess what, chan? i fucking hate you,” you sneer.
it all happens so fast. he’s pushing off the car and pulling you backwards into his chest, yanking the door open like it’s the thing that wronged him.
“get in the backseat. now,” he orders, mouth right next to your ear as he holds you in place. it sends a delicious shiver up your spine, and you swallow hard. when chan is angry like this, it’s the best sex imaginable — you’re already wet at the thought of it.
he unwraps his arms from your waist and waits expectantly for you to obey, not pushing, not forcing. if you stand there, unmoving, he’ll accept it and let you return to your friends.
but you both know that’s not what you want. you crawl into the backseat only a few moments later.
a strange sense of comfort takes hold of you when you realize his car still smells the same. it’s the odd little things like that that the brain seems to fixate on after heartbreak. you’re not sure what you expected — another woman’s perfume to permeate the space, perhaps. maybe it once did. maybe there are still traces of her lingering on the very seat you currently occupy.
but right now, it’s just you and him.
he slips in beside you soon after, gripping your hips and pulling you onto his lap swiftly. the suddenness causes you to gasp quietly, but you settle into place right away. it’s familiar despite everything being different now. you would have once said you belong in his lap; it was your favorite place to be. now, it excites you, but also brings a wave of sadness.
you suspect that he notices your face drop, because he brushes the hair out of your face with more gentleness than he’s extended so far tonight. “pretty girl,” he coos. “you shouldn’t have done that.”
“well i can’t unfuck him. so what, are you gonna fuck me now, channie? need to prove that you’re better?” you’re only provoking him further so he’ll fuck you harder. it’s a dangerous game, but one you know how to play all too well.
too bad he knows how to play dirtier.
his hand slides just under your shirt, rubbing slow circles along the flesh of your waist. “i don’t have to prove shit. you know i’m better,” he snarls. “and that’s exactly why i’m not gonna do a fucking thing.”
no, no, no. he can’t possibly mean that. you’ve been taunting him, sure, and yes, you slept with his friend, but he was cruel first. you were just retaliating. which means right now, you’re even — there’s no reason for him to punish you like this.
your whole body stills just as it did when he ended things, and he laughs callously at how pathetically cute you look.
“what?” you whimper, hoping his words are only a joke to make you suffer for a little.
“what? did you think you’d hurt me? make me cry because you fucked my friend?” he smirks. “no, baby. now you’re gonna get yourself off on my thigh, and i’m gonna sit and watch.”
you’ve fucked up. he’s not going to touch you, not going to help you. you’re just a show to him, one he’s going to enjoy every minute of.
“fuck you,” you snap.
he chuckles, finding your reaction quite amusing. so mouthy for someone that was about to make a filthy mess on his thigh. “that’s what you want, isn’t it? probably begging for my cock, huh? too bad.”
“you’re such an asshole.”
you haven’t moved yet, so he grips both sides of your waist and rolls your hips against him for you. the skirt you chose to wear tonight is almost too perfect for this. like you had planned for it. it’s short — very short — intending to entice guys in the club and instead helping you grind against your ex’s leg easier.
the thin fabric of your panties offers little separation, and you moan softly at the first deliberate contact from his guidance.
“yeah, and yet you hopped into my backseat,” he retorts. “in this short skirt no less. bet you’re dripping in your panties — gonna leave a spot on my jeans, aren’t you, baby?”
his hands are still digging into your flesh, but you no longer need his assistance. you’ve started rolling your hips on your own, each slow drag sending a ripple of pleasure through you. and just as he promised, he just sits there, drinking in the sight of you.
you’re perfect. he doesn’t even really know why he broke up with you anymore — maybe because it was getting too real, and that scared him.
but then you had to go and do that. your actions left an ugly stain on your pretty character, and he wasn’t letting it go unpunished.
when he looks down at where your clothed cunt is rutting against him, sure enough he notices a damp dark spot on the denim. how long have you been soaked like this? from the moment you saw him in the club? when he snatched your wrist and pulled you through the crowd of bodies?
he isn’t sure. what he is sure of, though, is that you never stopped wanting him. never stopped being his.
“guess i was right. dripping for me, yet you wanted to give yourself to someone else,” he chides.
“shut up,” you try to make it sound like you mean it, but it comes out as a breathy whine. the friction against your clit sends your mind into a frenzy, all your anger mixing with your desperation. “you fucking ruin everything.”
that part you do mean. he ruins everything he touches — including you. especially you. and yet you grind down harder, faster, a dizzying rhythm that does just that.
ruins you.
“not everything, just you. and you love it,” he corrects, because he knows just as well as you do. you gave him that power.
clearly, he loves it, too. he’s been hard ever since he watched you dancing with your friends in that short, short skirt. swaying your hips in all the ways you knew would drive him crazy. now that you’re on top of him like this, you can feel his cock straining against his jeans, begging to be released. he could fulfill you both right now if he wasn’t so prideful.
it’s almost sweet how he keeps his hands in place, steadying you, but then one shifts up into your hair and tugs. harsh, not sweet. it’s enough to jerk your head back a little, and he scoffs quietly at how fucked out you look from just clothed teasing.
“say it,” he demands, “and maybe i’ll be a little nicer.”
“i love it,” you pant. your dazed brain almost says the words “i love you.”
his lips curl into a satisfied smile, one that makes you feel stupidly proud. you like making him happy. and you love how he looks at you when you do. it’s so devilishly sexy that you whimper as you rock your hips wildly.
“knew you’d still be good for me. here, baby, d’you want me to pull your panties to the side?”
if that was all he was willing to give you, then yes. feeling your heat directly against his jeans would have to be enough.
“yes, please, chan,” you beg without him asking you to.
as a reward, he slips his hand down between your legs, sliding the soaked fabric over to expose your heat fully. his fingers brush against you in the process, slick coating them from even the brief contact.
it almost makes him lose all restraint and plunge inside of you. too bad he has so much self-control.
you feel everything ten times more just by him removing a thin, useless layer. the rough denim pressing against your clit, his thigh flexing as he shifts with the discomfort of how hard he is, and the total absence of his hands.
they’ve dropped to the seat, no longer tangling in your hair or gripping your hips. a sudden rush of confidence surges over you, and you wrap your hand around his wrist.
to your absolute shock, he grabs yours right back and interlocks your fingers. it’s the sweetest thing he’s done tonight — a small remnant of your past love.
“look at you, dirty fucking girl,” he rasps. apparently his mouth hadn’t caught up. “grinding your pussy on my thigh like a slut.”
“oh, fuck, chan,” you cry, free hand twisting into his shirt, searching for something to ground you.
red hot tension courses through you, his words bringing you close to a very familiar release. your rhythm has gone erratic, and he knows what that entails. it’s almost impossible to resist you when his name falls from your lips so desperate and wrecked.
he lets go of your hand just to hold you down harder against him. if he’s lucky, he’ll leave his fingerprints indented in your skin. “yeah, baby. remind yourself who makes you feel this good,” he groans.
“it’s you. it’s always you.”
you wish it wasn’t true as much as you wish you truly hated him; no one else would ever have you like this.
“i think the world needs to know that, hm?” he coos. “c’mere.”
you both lean forward until his mouth meets your neck halfway, planting wet, sloppy kisses wherever he can reach. it’s the most touch he’s given you, even if it’s only to leave marks for everyone to see. his teeth sink into your skin, biting harshly, the jolt of pain shooting straight down between your legs.
he’s emphasizing his claim over you, and perhaps you should feel ashamed or defeated for letting him. but you feel none of that. all you feel is your orgasm rapidly approaching, riding his thigh with determination as he sucks and kisses and bites.
when he pulls back, he brings his fingers to the marks he’s just made. his hand is wrapped around your throat, pressing into the sides carefully. “tell me, what was his name, baby?” he asks, finishing his question with a firm squeeze.
this is the part where you’re not supposed to answer. you should forget any man’s name that isn’t his. but you’re willing to test your luck, because deep within you, that bitterness remains. an infestation that will slowly eat whatever’s left if you don’t rid yourself of it before it can.
right now, you’re letting it rot you from the inside out.
“minho,” you choke out.
he slides his hand from your neck to your face, squishing your cheeks between it. “let’s try again,” he warns, “what’s his name?”
“who? there’s only you,” you relent, blinking at him sweetly.
it’s exactly what he wants to hear, and he drags his thumb along your lips in silent praise. you open for him instinctively, such a simple act causing his cock to twitch in his jeans. he broke you, he drove you into the arms of his friend (or really, you did that yourself, but he knows you’ve always been theatrical), yet you’re still so obedient. still taking everything he gives you, still wanting more.
he pushes inside your mouth, humming contentedly when you suck and swirl your tongue around the digit. you’re teetering dangerously close to the edge now, praying he’ll lead you over it.
“my good fucking girl,” he growls. “i know you wanna cum. go on, before i change my mind. cum for me, show me you’re mine.”
if you weren’t so blissed out right now, you’d probably argue with him — insist that he lost all privilege to call you his the moment he ended things (even if you still were). instead, you come undone on his thigh, hips jerking wildly as he coaxes you through it with a mixture of tender praise and filthy degradation.
“so good for me,” “such a needy slut,” “so pretty when you’re like this,” “missed you so much,” he mumbles, and you wonder how much of what he says is true.
exhaustion rips through you as you come down, lust no longer keeping you afloat. without much thought, you drop your head into his shoulder, taking in the familiar scent of his cologne. the one you bought him.
“fuck. i hate that you’re still good at that,” you pant.
he laughs, trailing his fingers down your back gently. “i’ll never not be good at making you feel good. i don’t even have to touch you.”
minutes pass, maybe five, maybe twenty. you don’t know — you’re too entranced in chan’s presence, being held in his arms like nothing had ever changed. once you move, you’ll be met with the cold reality of what he did. of what you both did.
“by the way,” he begins, voice careful as he breaks the peaceful silence, “i know everything.”
and oh, how he breaks it.
“wha—what?” you stammer, breath hitching. you lift your head and brace yourself for his anger, but all you find is an unnerving calm.
“you didn’t fuck minho,” he says, much like earlier. only now it’s not daring, but certain. the entire time, he knew. and he let you lie and provoke and play this game with him for his own amusement.
your eyes go wide with shame and surprise. “wait, no, i—” you try, but your mind goes blank.
“sh, baby,” he coos. “he told me everything. said you brought him back to your place just to cry about how much you miss me. blue balled the poor guy so bad he had to go home and rub one out on his own,” he continues, chuckling sarcastically at the last sentence.
you probably should have known chan would go right to the source himself. getting jisung to sell your story was one thing, but convincing minho to go along with it was a venture you didn’t even consider pursuing. honestly, you hadn’t spoken to him since that failed night; it was embarrassing for both of you. between you sat a silent agreement to never speak of it again.
“it was a cute lie,” he taunts, “but lie again and see where it gets you.”
the warning is warm against your ear but sends a shiver down your spine. lie about sins that don’t exist, and he’ll introduce you to a whole new world of them.
( 애인 ) 𝒾n which ︵ boyf!chan adores his shy!girlfriend. ⫶ 1,1O5 fluff comfort insecurity self-doubt established relationship mentions of social anxiety && overstimulation coquette!reader ( felix ver. )
⌨️ like&&reblog for a kiss. ── #click4masterlist to see more.
✶ chan who honestly thought he was dreaming when he saw you at the cafe. he was just trying to have a quiet moment with an iced americano, but then you walked in looking like a literal doll—ribbons in your hair, lace details on your outfit, the whole nine yards.
✶ chan who was already whipped before he even saw your bag. but then he caught sight of his own face on a pc holder dangling from your purse, and his heart actually skipped a beat. he noticed you kept peeking over, your face turning a bright shade of crimson every time you thought he might look back.
✶ chan who could tell you were trying so hard to stay composed and give him his space, which he found incredibly sweet, but you looked so nervous that he knew he had to be the one to bridge the gap. when he finally walked up to your table, his own palms were a little sweaty.
✶ chan who just gave you that classic, dimpled grin and said, "i really like your bag... and the guy on it has pretty good taste in fans, too." you looked like you were about to evaporate into thin air, but when you shyly managed to tell him your name, he knew he wasn't letting you go without your number.
✶ chan, your boyfriend now, whose protective instincts go into overdrive the second you’re in a crowd. he knows that being shy often means you feel "perceived" in a way that’s overwhelming, so he uses his body as a shield.
if you’re at a busy event, he’s always got a hand on the small of your back or he's pulling you into his side, creating a little physical barrier between you and the rest of the world.
he’s constantly tilting his head down to check your expression, whispering things like, "still okay, love?" or "we can leave in five minutes if you've had enough." he never makes you feel like your shyness is a chore; to him, it's just something precious he gets to guard.
✶ chan who is so in love with your style. he might not fully understand all the nuances of it, but he absolutely loves how much thought you put into your outfits.
he's the guy who will spend twenty minutes helping you tie the perfect bow in the back of your hair because you can’t reach it. he’ll hold your lace-trimmed cardigan while you try on clothes, and he never misses an opportunity to tell you how pretty you look.
✶ he loves the contrast of your soft, dainty style next to his usual all black, studio-rat look. he’ll often take candid photos of you when you’re not looking—just a shot of your hands holding a teacup or the way your ribbons flutter in the wind—and save them to a hidden folder on his phone titled "my angel."
✶ chan who takes over the "scary" social tasks without you even asking. if you’re at a restaurant and the music is too loud or you need an extra napkin but you’re too anxious to flag someone down, he’s already caught the waiter’s eye.
he who does it with so much natural charm and ease that it takes the pressure off you completely. he knows exactly when your voice gets that tiny, breathless wobble that means you’re feeling overwhelmed, and he’ll smoothly jump into the conversation to finish your sentence so you can just breathe. later, he’ll squeeze your hand under the table and give you a look that says, i got you, baby.
✶ chan who loves how loud your quiet love is. since you’re not the type to make big public declarations, he lives for the small, private things you do for him. he finds it incredibly endearing when you leave little sticky notes in his lyric book or when you sneak a heart-shaped sticker onto his laptop.
he's the type to get genuinely emotional over a handmade gift. he sees every little gesture as a piece of your heart that you’re trusting him with, and he treats those moments like they’re worth more than any award he’s ever won.
✶ chan who uses his leader voice to soothe your insecurities. when you’re having a bad day and your shyness turns into self-doubt, he’ll pull you onto his lap and just talk to you. there’s something about the frequency of his voice—that deep, calm, australian-laced tone—that just settles your nervous system.
he’ll talk about his day, or tell you stories about the members, or just ramble about music until he feels you finally relax against him. he loves the feeling of you tucking your face into his neck, hiding away from the world while he holds you. to him, being your safe place is the highest honor he could have.
✶ chan who gets incredibly giddy when you finally show your fan side to him. even though you’re his girlfriend now, he never forgets how you met. sometimes, when you’re at home in your pajamas, you’ll accidentally start humming one of his songs or mention a specific deep-cut track you love, and his face just lights up.
he loves that you were a fan of his work before you knew him, and he’ll tease you about it in the sweetest way.
"oh, so you really like this part, huh?" he'll say, leaning in with a grin. "i remember a certain girl in a cafe who was too shy to even look me in the eye..." it always ends with you blushing and him kissing the tip of your nose because he thinks you're the cutest thing on the planet.
if he catches you looking at a new teaser drop, he’ll lean over your shoulder and whisper, "is that guy your bias? i think i can get you his autograph." he loves teasing you until you’re a blushing mess, but he always follows it up by reminding you that he’s your biggest fan now, too.
✶ chan who's your biggest hype man, but only in the ways you're comfortable with. he knows that public praise might make you want to hide, so he saves the loudest cheering for when it’s just the two of you.
if you accomplish something—like speaking up in a meeting or even just making a phone call you were dreading—he treats it like a monumental victory.
he’ll pick you up, spin you around, and tell you how proud he is. he wants you to see yourself through his eyes: as someone who is incredibly brave and capable, even if you do it quietly.
one word. humiliation. do with that what you will. any member.
manHANDLED!
chan x fem!reader
cw: pure filth, manhanding (to everyone's surprise), unprotected sex, doggy, handcuffs, lowk hatefucking but not really, cocky!chan, degrading, probably more
fights with chan were so rare, you'd like to say that you were level headed, and he was always patient with you otherwise.
but at times like this?
chan had your arms cuffed behind your back, your thighs aching with constant movement.
chan mercilessly leaning his weight down on your shaky body, “Fuck-” Before he’s pursing his cute, rose-pink lips near your mouth and spitting. “The fuck did you- hah, say to me?”
Stubbornly, you’re opening your mouth. “I said fuck y-”
its like the curses you were about to throw at him were fucked out of you, replaced with whines —it’d been like this ever since the argument.
You don’t even remember how long ago it was by now, you don’t even remember what it was about. But all you knew was that it had you on all fours, hands cuffed, and thighs aching at his vicious pace.
He’s slapping his hand down over your throat, snickering as you swallow. “Nervous?” Lightly squeezing, your boyfriend physically pulls you back even further against his body. Plastering the front of his toned torso against your spine as he whispers, “You wanna try that again, gorgeous?”
But you always did like a good fight with him, and he already knew— because both of you would always end up like this, hatefucking the daylights out of eachother. “Said f-fuck-”
this time he isn’t just tightening his hand, choking you. he just pushes you to the drool-soaked pillows, your words muffled before they could come out.
Until he has the audacity to look down at the puddle of tears and drool you were drenching out and cackle, “Mmm, can’t hear ya, gorgeous.” Before he looks down to where your bodies meet. “In fact, I think she’s louder.”
‘She’ being your dripping cunt.
Practically drowning both of you at this point, the insides of your thighs were so incredibly drenched with layers of your slick. Clinging onto you, his abdomen, his cock, they elicit the loudest 'schlick!' with every thrust.
And chan takes the opportunity to slow his hips down, sloppily draaaaaagging his thick, vein-covered cock along your walls until the noises sing even louder. Grunting, “And s-sweeter, too.”
“Sweeter?” You’re huffing, “Then talk to her-”
“I think I will-”
oh he was so rough with you today. Taking out the adrenaline from that argument earlier out on you, chan’s then planting one of his feet at the top of your scalp. Hunched over you, spearheading the tip of his cock even deeper at this new angle.
You’re gasping, “chan, you’re-” Holding onto you so tight, it felt like you were going to burst from all the blood rushing to your head, you can barely breath “so rough—ngh.”
“Oh, am i now?” he Sounds almost…crazed. With widened eyes, he’s taking in the position the two of you were in, the way he was pressing his heel down even harder to make you squirm just the way he liked. “Hah- guess I am.”
He didn’t even realize he was doing it, not until you’d pointed it out. Just so naturally folding you into pliable positions.
One hand of his wraps around your thighs, spreading apart your swollen folds to rub at your clit so meanly, and it makes a gush of arousal drip down his wrist, “Yeah, you like that? Letting me have my- fuck, way with you?”
Without even waiting for an answer, he’s increasing his movements. Increasing the pressure on your head that makes you borderline dizzy, increasing the pace at which hes bullying his cock into your sweetspot. chan's fucking you like he’s trying to prove a point, and it’s maddening.
“P-please-”
“ ‘Please’ doesn’t cut it.” his chest is heaving from the force hes driving himself with, all sweaty and dripping against your back.
and he couldn’t stop himself from staring at your wrecked state. From feeling how absolutely wet you were, soaking the entire front of his reddening pelvis in all your slick. “Look at you d-drooling all over like a cock drunk slut" he stutters despite his degrading words.
you claw at your own restraints "im 'bout to, fuck” you feel your impending orgasm as fast as the pace of his hips. “channn—”
“M’right here, gorgeous.” He’s rasping out ontop of you- and chan finally, finally sets you free from the restraint on top of your head.
You’re whining as he’s taking his leg off. only having the time to breathe out two heavy pants before he grips onto your restraints. Firm. Tight. speeding up, throwing his head back with a loud groan. "m'cumming!" was all you could muster up, brain and lungs still hazy from the lack of air.
his hips landed a wet smack against yours, once, twice, before he released inside you. falling from the sheer force of your orgasms alone, his chest colliding with you back, his fingers on your clit trailing up till he reached below your belly button, pressing down
"im rightttt here"
♡♡♡
a/n: idk if this is considered humiliating but i just find the position so derogatory. i hate anything feet included ngl, i didnt see the appeal of the position at first but now im drenched soooo...
hope ya enjoyed (js as much as i did, apparently) likes and reblogs are appreciated :))
Prompt: anon requested uncle!Bucky with “You look just like your mom did when she was younger, and that’s why I can’t stop myself from bending you over the same kitchen table.” for my Valentine's Dead Dove event !
Pairing: Uncle!Bucky Barnes x Niece!Reader
Word count: 1k
Tags: DDDNE (dead dove do not eat); incest (uncle Bucky/mentions of Bucky being aroused by his own sister); kitchen sex; dirty talk; possessive Bucky Barnes; age gap (reader in her 20s; Bucky in his 40s); corruption kink; some hair pulling; unprotected sex; creampie; no use of Y/N
The kitchen smells like cinnamon and old coffee grounds, the light overhead a little too yellow; everything looks and feels the same exact way you remember from when you were younger and your mom was baking late at night to keep her hands and mind busy.
Rather, everything is the same except for one detail: tonight you’re braced on the edge of the farmhouse table (same one that has been here since before you were born), elbows locked, dress shoved up around your waist, panties still hooked around one ankle like they got kicked off in a hurry and never made it to the floor.
Behind you, your uncle Bucky has his jeans open but not down, just shifted enough for him to free his cock and fist himself, and drag the head through your slick to let you feel him. He hasn’t said anything yet. Just came into the kitchen when you were halfway through preparing some cake batter, watched you for a few minutes with his arms crossed over his chest before he made his way over to you and kissed you stupid.
Between that and being face down on the kitchen table, it was a heartbeat.
The overhead light buzzes and throws long shadows across the scarred wood, across faint stretch marks on your hips. You’d gained them when you lost weight, and now they remind you of the same ones you used to see on your mother’s body when she reached for the top shelf in her sleep shirt.
Uncle Bucky notices them, too, his fingers tracing the faint marks on your legs.
“You look just like your mom did when she was younger,” he says, leaning down to kiss along your shoulder. “and that’s why I can’t stop myself from bendin’ you over the same kitchen table.”
The words feel like a slap. Too dirty, too honest, wrong in just the right way to make your cunt clench around nothing. Glancing back over your shoulder, you find his eyes dark, staring at the place where your bodies are almost connected like it’s holy ground he’s about to desecrate.
“That’s so fucked, Bucky,” you whimper, but whatever else you need to say dies on your tongue when he notches himself at your entrance and holds there. Perfect pressure with no relief.
“I know. Been fucked up since I was twenty-four and she laughed at one of my dumb jokes while kneadin’ dough right here.”
Metal fingers trail down your spine, settling at the small of your back and pressing just enough to make you arch deeper.
“She’d stand exactly like this sometimes,” he murmurs. “Leanin’ forward, forearms on the table, pretendin’ to read a recipe while she waited for the oven timer. Skirt hiked just enough I could see the backs of her thighs. I never touched her, not once. But fuck, I wanted to.”
Your breath hitches. Shame and heat twist together until you can’t tell which is overriding your system. Fingers curled against the wood, the same one with small tiny burn marks from when you were six and tried to help make cookies, you consider telling him to stop. That this is wrong.
You don’t say stop.
Instead, you push back, just a fraction, so the tip slips inside, barely breaching.
Bucky hisses through his teeth.
“That’s it,” he breathes before feeding you the rest of his cock in one long slide that makes your eyes roll back. “Look at that, princess, takin’ it like your mommy never got the chance to.”
He bottoms out and stays. Lets you feel every inch, every throb, the way he’s already leaking inside you from nothing but memory.
When he finally starts moving, deep, measured strokes, the table legs creak against the linoelum. Every thrust forward rocks the salt shaker an inch closer to the edge until it tips and spills.
His flesh arm slides around your stomach, pulls you back harder onto him, while his metal fingers find your clit and begin circling slowly. Your body jerks, you cry out, and he holds you tighter.
“She used to hum when she baked,” he says, almost comically conversational even as he continues fucking you harder. “A little off-key. I’d sit at the counter readin’ the newspaper and watchin’ her hips sway. Wanted to drop to my knees behind her and bury my face between my legs ‘til she forgot her name.”
A sharp thrust forward and you think you are able to see stars.
“But I was always too chickenshit” he growls. “Always makin’ excuses. First we were kids, then we were family, then she was married. Too many lines we couldn’t cross.” Another punishing thrust, “But you… you’re letting me cross every single one, aren’t you? With your cunt dripping for me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”
“Uncle Bucky, please—”
Bucky just keeps driving into you, murmuring filthy half-confessions about how he used to love the way she looked and how, somehow, you look so much better. Exactly like her, but prettier, messier. His metal fingers circle your clit harder, a little faster, his hips following suit as you moan for him.
Please, please, please. Begging, whimpering, eyes rolling into the back of your head with every hit of his cock to the soft, spongy spot inside of you.
And the moment he feels you begin to clench around him, so close to release, he yanks your head back by the hair so he can see your face when you come. It happens suddenly, your nails scraping the wood and back bowing as a sob rips out of you.
Bucky follows right after, growling your name like a wounded animal, spilling deep inside you like he’s trying to mark something that always belonged to him. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, neither do you, and all you feel is his ragged breathing and the excess of him slowly leaking out around his softening cock. With a grunt, he thrusts inside of you once, twice, fucking his release back into you.
Softly, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, then to your shoulder.
“Needa’ refinish this table,” he mutters against your skin.
That drags a full belly laugh out of you.
“Come over tomorrow. I’ll help you out.”
He huffs, kisses your neck again. Doesn’t pull out.
contains: crack, toji is in his late 30s, reader is in her early 20s
wc: 431
toji remembers when he realised he was dating a professional young hoe.
it was his first time in your home after you two had been on a couple of dates together. he'd told you about his life, and you'd told him about yours. things were going well.
but the first time he saw you cook, it gave him pause. and in that moment, he recalled something. perhaps he'd read it, or he'd heard it in passing.
'young hoes cook everything on high.'
he couldn't believe it. you were - allegedly - making pancakes, but the fire was so damn near licking at the sides of the pan, with the heat so high that the outside crisped up immediately, while the inside remained raw. in fact, the fire was so fucking high, that if you left it unflipped for even a second longer to allow the inside to cook properly, the pancake would've been burnt beyond saving.
"you tryin' to make 'em medium rare or somethin'?" asked the man gruffly as he resisted the temptation to scratch his head in perplexity.
"huh? oh, no, the middle cooks after a bit," you chuckled, as if he was being silly. "just gotta flip 'em every five seconds, so the outside-"
toji cut you off by holding a single hand up. "just...please lower the heat," he pleaded breathlessly.
the next incident was the first time he slept over after another one of your dates.
he had escorted you back to your place in the pouring rain, and you refused to let him go home in those conditions.
so, after he had showered and dried himself off with a towel you gave him to use, he entered your bedroom to find you clearing the bed of what looked to be all of your worldly possessions.
"uh..." he trailed off, confused. "you sleep with all that shit on there?"
"usually," you replied with an exerted huff as toji took note of the items you were throwing off your bed.
laptop, plushie, blanket, charger, empty pizza box (?), brand new left boot (??), chew toy (???)
"you got a dog?" toji asked warily.
"nope!" you replied cheerfully as you displaced the last of the unnecessary items. "bed's all clear!"
he was already worried.
before he laid flat on a warm extension cord, that is.
"babe, is that supposed to be-"
"i was looking for that!" you exclaim triumphantly, retrieving the active fire hazard from the confines of your beddings and immediately plugging your laptop into it.
"...right," toji deadpanned.
he could only pray the house didn't end up on fire by morning.
