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Electric Lady 01:43 ━━━━●───── 03:50 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮“She can fly you straight to the moon, or to the ghettos / Wearing only tennis shoes, or in flats or in stilettos” — Janelle Monáe
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Summary: After their first night together, she couldn’t stop desperately craving a second round with her boyfriend and his best friend. But while she tried to beg them to have their way with her again, they already had a plan for her.
Warnings: OKAY let‘s see….. Anal (Hyunlix), Double Penetration, Felix being a Pussy Eater again and yea…. everything sex related i fear…..
Enjoy 🙂↕️
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───
She woke up nestled between two gorgeous men, her body warm and tangled in the sheets. For a moment, she lay still, her mind hazy—until the memories of last night crashed over her all at once. Heat flooded her cheeks, but she was too exhausted to process any of it. Her limbs felt heavy, her body deliciously sore.
The next time she stirred, the bed was empty. The warmth of their bodies had faded, leaving only the faint scent of them lingering on the sheets. With a quiet sigh, she pushed herself up, stretching despite the ache in her legs.
By the time she made it to the kitchen, dressed but still drained, her muscles protested every step. A slow burn, a deep ache—evidence of exactly what had happened.
Changbin was the only one there, He glanced up as she walked in, the corner of his lips twitching.
“Morning… Rough night?”
Her face burned instantly.
────୨ৎ────
As she walked down the street toward his workplace, the cool evening air did little to soothe the warmth simmering under her skin. She waved at the security guard with a soft smile.
“Good evening, Miss Y/N. Felix is in the dance practice room.”
She nodded in thanks and stepped into the elevator, carefully balancing the tray of drinks in her hands. The smooth hum of the lift did nothing to quiet her racing thoughts. The moment she stepped into the practice room, the lively energy of the group washed over her.
“Wow, look at you. Felix, your girlfriend is an angel,” Seungmin called out the second he spotted his favorite coffee shop logo on one of the cups.
“Please, someone help me before I drop everything,” she laughed, only now realizing just how exhausting it was to carry them all.
The boys immediately stopped what they were doing, reaching for the drinks without hesitation. Felix pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before taking his cup, the warmth of his lips lingering for a second longer than necessary.
“Felix, no way you made your girlfriend come all the way here just to bring us coffee,” Bang Chan teased. “That is very un-boyfriend-like behavior.”
“Yo, I just told her we were practicing. That was her own will,” Felix defended, his voice light with amusement.
But she wasn’t listening.
Her eyes had wandered—unbidden, instinctual—toward Hyunjin. He was standing slightly apart from the others, his body glistening with a light sheen of sweat, the tank top clinging to his frame like it had been made just for him. Muscles sculpted with an almost ridiculous perfection, every flex, every shift of his body an unintentional display of raw beauty.
He noticed her staring. And he looked right back.
A slow, knowing smirk played at the edges of his lips.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and she quickly shifted her gaze back to Felix—only to find him already watching her. His expression unreadable, but his eyes dark, knowing. The air in the room changed, something unsaid passing between the three of them.
Lee Know, sensing the shift, leaned in toward Bang Chan.
“Hyung,” he muttered, “maybe shut up for a second.”
And just like that, her face burned.
She sank into the sofa, crossing her legs tightly as she watched them. The boys had returned to their practice, sweat glistening on their skin, muscles flexing with every sharp movement. She tried—God, she tried—to ignore the way Hyunjin had just looked at her.
But the heat between her thighs made it impossible.
They spent too much time together, moving in sync both on and off the stage. Sometimes, they even seemed to speak in a language only they understood.
A treacherous thought crept into her mind. Had they fucked behind her back?
The idea made her thighs clench. The night hadn’t been that long ago, but with how comfortable they were around each other, how easily they touched, how effortlessly they existed in each other’s space… It could have happened.
She bit her lip, looking up just in time to see Felix and Hyunjin exchange a high-five. The sound of their palms meeting sent a shockwave through her body—her mind throwing her straight back into that night.
The way they had ruined her together.
A quiet whimper almost slipped from her lips, but she swallowed it down. Fuck, she was so worked up.
────୨ৎ────
Later that night, she tossed and turned in Felix’s bed, the sheets cool against her feverish skin. She squeezed her thighs together, but it did nothing—nothing to ease the ache, nothing to replace the way they had both felt inside her.
The sound of running water stopped, and a few moments later, Felix stepped into the room, towel slung low around his hips. His damp hair dripped onto his shoulders, droplets sliding down his sculpted chest. He barely made it two steps before noticing the way she was staring at him.
He smirked. “What are you thinking about, sweetheart?”
She pushed herself up on her elbows, her breath unsteady.
“I need you two to fuck me dumb again.”
Felix’s smirk faded. His eyes darkened, jaw ticking as he exhaled through his nose. A slow, knowing chuckle left his lips as he stalked toward her, the air between them thick with heat.
“Oh?” He tilted her chin up, thumb ghosting over her parted lips. “You miss the way he touched you?”
She nodded, barely able to breathe.
His thumb pressed against her lower lip, slipping inside just slightly. “Then I guess we’ll have to call him, won’t we?”
She sucked on his thumb, her lips warm and soft around it, tongue swirling just enough to make it obscene. She knew exactly what she was doing—how much Felix liked watching her like this, pliant and eager, her big eyes looking up at him like she’d do anything for him.
But instead of rewarding her, he sighed. A slow, deliberate sound.
Then, he pulled his thumb from her mouth with a wet pop and wiped the glistening sheen of spit against her flushed cheek.
“No.”
Her stomach dropped.
He tilted her chin up between his fingers, his voice calm, almost pitying. “I spoil you too much, sweetheart.”
She swallowed hard.
“You’re just a little spoiled girl, always begging to be stuffed full without even earning it.”
Her thighs clenched together instinctively, the sharp rejection making the heat between them ache even more.
“Felix… please—”
“No.” He cut her off, voice firm. “Why would you deserve it?”
She stared up at him, her nails digging into the sheets. He loved this. Loved making her squirm, watching her melt into desperation.
She shifted forward on the bed, crawling toward him on her knees. Her nightgown was barely anything, thin and delicate, the lace tracing over her curves. It had ridden up, exposing her bare thighs, and her nipples pressed stiff against the fabric, aching for attention.
Felix ignored it.
The towel slipped from his waist as he reached for his boxers, leaving him completely bare for a few seconds. And god, fuck, she couldn’t look away.
His body was carved perfection—toned, sweat-kissed from the heat of the shower. And between his thighs, his cock hung heavy, thick, and teasingly out of reach.
She swallowed hard, her mouth going dry.
She barely realized she had leaned forward, staring shamelessly, her breath coming faster. The ache between her legs was unbearable now, her body desperate, skin too hot, too sensitive.
“Lixie, please,” she whimpered, shifting even closer. “I’ll be so good…”
Felix finally pulled his boxers on, raising an eyebrow as he climbed onto the bed.
“Oh?” He tilted his head, voice laced with amusement. “And why should I believe that?”
“Because I will do anything,” she whispered. “Anything you want. I just—” She exhaled shakily. “I just need you. Please.”
For a second, she thought she had won—thought he’d finally give in.
Then, he smirked.
And laid back against the pillows, stretching out comfortably, completely unbothered by the way she was practically begging at this point.
“Maybe,” he mused, “you should ask Hyunjin what he thinks about it.”
Her breath hitched.
Her whole body stiffened. “W-what?”
Felix smirked at the stunned expression on her face. “You heard me.”
Then, he reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
She sat there, still kneeling on the bed, heat burning under her skin, her heart pounding against her ribs.
How the fuck was she supposed to ask Hyunjin?
Should she… seduce him?
The thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, making her thighs squeeze together instinctively.
Would he let her? Would he make her work for it the way Felix did? Or would he take control the second she so much as looked at him the wrong way?
She swallowed, fingers curling into the sheets.
She might have been spoiled.
But she wasn’t patient.
And if Felix wasn’t going to give her what she wanted… she would find another way to get it.
────୨ৎ────
The dorm was quiet, the kind of stillness that only settled deep into the night. Most of the members were asleep, and Felix… well, he was still ignoring her on the second night.
She couldn’t sleep.
She needed to do something.
So she slid out of bed, slipping one of Felix’s oversized shirts over her body, barely bothering with shorts underneath. It was just the dorm, after all. And if she happened to run into Hyunjin?
Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
She padded into the kitchen, her bare feet light against the cool floor. The fridge hummed softly as she opened it, grabbing a bottle of water—only to freeze when she heard a voice behind her.
“Can’t sleep?”
Her pulse jumped.
She turned, the dim kitchen light casting long shadows over the tall figure standing in the doorway. Hyunjin. His hair was damp, strands curling slightly at the ends, and he was shirtless, just a loose pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
Oh.
She licked her lips, gripping the cold bottle tighter. “Yeah.” Her voice came out softer than she intended. “You?”
Hyunjin shrugged, stepping inside. “I was sketching. Needed a break.”
She swallowed, watching as he moved closer.
He smelled clean—like body wash and something distinctly him, warm and slightly musky. And when he leaned against the counter beside her, his arm nearly brushing hers, the heat between them became impossible to ignore.
Perfect.
She turned toward him slightly, shifting her weight just enough for the oversized shirt to slip down her shoulder, exposing a hint of smooth skin.
“You work too hard,” she murmured, taking a slow sip of water. “You should let yourself relax more.”
Hyunjin exhaled a quiet laugh. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
She tilted her head, her fingers tracing idly over the condensation on the bottle.
“I could help,” she said, letting the words linger between them.
Hyunjin’s gaze flickered, his jaw tightening just slightly.
Oh, she had his attention now.
It hit her all at once.
The way Hyunjin leaned back against the counter, eyes dark with amusement, lips curled in that lazy, knowing smirk. The way he didn’t look surprised at all by how she was acting—by how desperate she was, shifting on her feet, heat crawling under her skin.
Felix had planned this.
They were both in on it.
She really was too spoiled.
Hyunjin exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as if he pitied her. “Tsk. You just don’t learn, do you?”
She swallowed hard, her thighs pressing together. “I—”
“Shh.”
Before she could answer, his hand dropped down to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them lower just enough to tease her with the sharp lines of his hips.
Her breath hitched.
Then, he palmed himself lazily over the fabric, fingers wrapping around his length, pressing just enough to make the shape of it obvious. “Is this what you want?”
A soft, broken whimper slipped from her lips before she could stop it.
She was too worked up, too far gone, too fucking needy to play it cool. Her entire body felt like it was pulsing, heat radiating from her core, making her skin feel sensitive, restless, desperate.
Hyunjin chuckled, slow and low.
“Ask for it nicely, sweetheart,” he murmured. His fingers tightened around himself just slightly, stroking once, slow and deliberate, enough to make himself twitch under the fabric.
She bit her lip so hard it nearly hurt.
She wanted to drop to her knees right then and there, wanted to press her lips to the growing outline in his sweats, wanted to show him exactly how much she needed this.
Her mouth opened—ready to beg, ready to say anything.
And then—
Hyunjin sighed dramatically, letting go of himself, his hand dropping back to his side.
“Ugh, I’m so tired.” He stretched his arms over his head, yawning like he hadn’t just had her on the verge of losing her mind. “Goodnight.”
Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked off, disappearing down the hallway toward his room.
She stood there, frozen in place, her body screaming in frustration.
Her fists clenched at her sides. “Fuck you,” she muttered under her breath.
From down the hall, she heard him chuckle. “You wish.”
She cursed again, then turned toward Felix’s room, where she knew he was still awake, probably smirking to himself just like Hyunjin had been.
They were going to fucking kill her.
────୨ৎ────
Her body wasn’t letting it go.
Even after she’d stormed back to Felix’s room, dropping onto his bed in a frustrated mess, she still felt hot, still felt restless. It was unbearable—the way her skin tingled, the way every little movement made her painfully aware of how empty she was. Felix wasn‘t in the Bed… probably on the toilet…..
Hyunjin’s teasing had pushed her too far.
Felix’s rejection had left her wound up too tight.
She buried her face into the pillow, letting out a muffled whine. They can’t do this to me.
They had left her like this—knowing how desperate she was, knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep, knowing exactly what she would end up doing.
Maybe that was part of their plan, too.
She turned on her Back.
Her thighs pressed together instinctively, hips shifting, searching for relief. The feeling wasn’t enough. Not even close.
Her fingers trailed lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties.
A sharp breath left her at the first touch—her own warmth, her own slick betraying just how much she needed it. She let her legs fall open, breath hitching as she stroked slow, teasing herself the way they should have been doing.
Her mind spiraled, flashing back to Hyunjin’s fingers wrapped around himself, the way he had stroked so slowly, the lazy amusement in his voice as he told her to ask nicely.
Felix’s voice from earlier echoed in her head. Maybe you should ask Hyunjin what he thinks of it.
Her stomach clenched.
What would Hyunjin do if he saw her like this—legs spread, back arching against the sheets, her fingers drenched with her own need? Would he call her pathetic? Tell her she was proving their point?
She swallowed hard, whimpering softly as she sped up, fingers circling exactly where she needed them most.
Her body tightened, the pleasure building higher, hotter—almost there, almost—
The door creaked open.
She froze.
Her breath caught in her throat, heart slamming against her ribs. She barely had time to yank the blanket over herself before she heard it—
A quiet, amused hum.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Felix.
Her stomach dropped.
Her head snapped up to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t even trying to hide the smirk on his lips, the glint in his eyes as he took in the scene before him.
“I leave you alone for five minutes and you can’t even behave?”
She swallowed hard, gripping the sheets tighter. “I—I wasn’t—”
He raised a brow. “Don’t lie to me, baby.”
Her body was still thrumming with need, still aching, still so close. The blanket was doing nothing to hide the way her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, or the way her thighs had yet to close.
Felix tilted his head, stepping inside.
“Looks like Hyunjin was right,” he murmured. “You really don’t deserve it yet.”
Her entire body flushed with heat. “Felix—”
“Mm-mm.” He reached down, taking the edge of the blanket between his fingers. “You want to touch yourself like a needy little thing? Go ahead.”
Then, with one sharp tug, he pulled the blanket away.
Her breath hitched—completely exposed under his gaze, her hand still buried between her thighs, her skin burning with humiliation and want.
Felix just grinned.
────୨ৎ────
The next few days were hell.
For her. For the boys. For everyone.
Felix and Hyunjin had left her high and dry, and her frustration was hitting a breaking point.
She was moody, snappy, and completely unbearable.
Changbin, poor, unsuspecting Changbin, had barely asked where the salt was when she threw the entire pack at him without a word.
Lee Know, who only wanted the remote, had barely touched her shoulder when she turned to him with glassy eyes, voice cracking, “I don’t know where it is!” before she burst into tears.
The whole dorm was walking on eggshells.
And they—Felix and Hyunjin—were enjoying every second of it.
They weren’t even subtle about it.
Felix would pass by her in the kitchen, hand brushing the small of her back, lips ghosting over her temple, whispering, “Such a moody little thing, aren’t you?” before walking away like it was nothing.
Hyunjin would sit too close to her on the couch, spreading his legs wide, body heat seeping into her skin, looking at her with that knowing smirk that made her want to either strangle him or ride him right then and there.
She couldn’t take it.
She had half a mind to beg, to drop her pride and beg—but just when she was about to give up, something changed.
────୨ৎ────
She woke up in the middle of the night to the feeling of soft lips pressing along the side of her neck.
Warm. Slow. Teasing.
A breathy sigh left her lips before she even opened her eyes, her body already reacting before her mind caught up.
“Lixie?” she murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.
A low hum vibrated against her skin, but the voice that answered wasn’t Felix’s.
“Mmm… it’s Jinnie, baby.”
Her eyes fluttered open.
The room was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow under the door.
She turned her head, blinking the sleep away, only to find Hyunjin lying beside her, his face inches from hers, his hands already palming at her breasts through the thin lace of her nightgown.
Her breath caught. “What are you—”
Hyunjin hushed her with a kiss, soft and lingering.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered against her lips. “Felix is in the bathroom.”
She should’ve pushed him away. She should’ve questioned why Felix wasn’t here. But the second he squeezed her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers, a whimper escaped her lips instead.
“We didn’t punish you because you were a bad girl,” he murmured, lips trailing along her jaw. “We just wanted to hear it from you first. We wanted you to ask for it.”
She shivered beneath him, hips shifting, pressing against nothing. “I—I did—”
“Not properly.” His hand slipped lower, fingers teasing along the edge of her nightgown. “Felix had to prep himself for a second night, you know.”
Her stomach clenched at the words.
Felix. Prepping himself.
Her breath hitched. She looked up at Hyunjin. “Remember how he promised me I could fuck his ass too?”
Hyunjin’s lips curled. “Mm,” he hummed, kissing her again, swallowing the soft moan that left her lips. “And he keeps his promises.”
“Felix is in the bathroom.”
The words echoed in her head, but she barely registered them.
Not when Hyunjin’s lips were already moving down her neck.
Not when his hands were already teasing at the hem of her nightgown.
“You missed us that much, huh?” His voice was all silk and sin, low against her skin. “You’ve been such a brat these past few days… all moody, snapping at the boys…”
His fingers ghosted over her inner thigh, but never where she needed him.
She whimpered, hips shifting, trying to guide his touch lower.
Hyunjin only chuckled. “Look at you… so desperate.”
He dipped his head, lips skimming along her collarbone. “But we couldn’t just give in right away, baby. We had to be sure you wanted it again.”
His teeth scraped gently, just enough to make her squirm.
“And now?” He exhaled against her skin. “Now we’re sure.”
She gasped softly as his hand finally cupped her through her panties, rubbing slow, lazy circles that had her entire body tensing.
“Jinnie…” she whined.
“Shh.” His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, just barely teasing at her slick heat. “You’re soaking, sweetheart.”*
She shuddered. “Because you two left me like this for days.”
Hyunjin smirked, pressing his fingers against her just enough to make her ache. “Mmm… and whose fault is that?”
“Yours!”
“Wrong answer.”
He pulled his hand away completely.
“Jinnie—!”
“Shh,” he murmured again, fingers pressing against her lips instead. “You want Felix to hear you begging while he’s getting ready for me?”
Her stomach clenched at the thought, at the realization of what was happening just a few feet away.
Hyunjin smiled lazily, watching her expression shift. “Oh? You like that, don’t you?”
She swallowed, her whole body burning.
“You want to go in there and see?”
She hesitated—God, she wanted to—but before she could answer, he flipped her onto her stomach.
“Too bad,” he whispered against her ear, pinning her hips down. “You have to wait your turn, baby.”
────୨ৎ────
Her wrists were bound.
Not tightly—just enough to keep her in place, to remind her who was in control.
Hyunjin had made sure of that.
She lay on her back, arms above her head, chest rising and falling in frustration. Her lace nightgown had ridden up, her wet pussy dripping, and her thighs were already trembling—because Hyunjin hadn’t stopped touching her, hadn’t stopped teasing her.
But every time she whimpered, every time she begged, he just smirked.
“You wanna be a good girl now, huh?” His voice was a slow drawl as he trailed his fingers along her inner thighs, stopping just before she got what she needed.
She bucked her hips, desperate for anything. “Jinnie, please—”
“Shh.” He leaned down, lips brushing against her ear. “You don’t get to make demands. Not after the way you’ve been acting.”
She wanted to snap at him, tell him how unfair this was, but her words were cut off by the sound of the door opening.
Felix had finally come back.
And the moment he stepped into the dimly lit room, his breath hitched at the sight in front of him.
“Well, well…” Felix’s voice was hoarse, still flushed from the time he’d spent prepping. “She’s already a mess.”
Hyunjin chuckled, shifting so he was straddling her waist, keeping her completely pinned beneath him. “She’s been a mess, Lix.” His fingers ghosted over her sensitive heat, making her jolt. “But she hasn’t earned anything yet.”
Felix tilted his head, his gaze dark, as he drank her in—her flushed skin, her parted lips, her arms restrained above her head.
“Is that so?”
Hyunjin nodded. “She’s been a little brat these past few days. Taking out all her frustration on the boys, throwing tantrums…” His fingers teased at the edge of her soaked panties. “And she still thinks she deserves to be fucked.”
Felix hummed, stepping closer. “That doesn’t sound very fair, sweetheart.”
She whined, struggling against the binds. “I wouldn’t have been frustrated if you two didn’t leave me like this for days!”
Hyunjin tsked, shaking his head. “And now you’re making excuses…”
“Jinnie—!”
“No.”* He leaned down, kissing her slowly, deeply, making her toes curl before pulling away just as suddenly. “You wanna make up for it? You’re gonna have to watch first.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait, what?”
Felix finally climbed onto the bed beside them, running his fingers lightly along her bare thigh. “That’s right, baby. You don’t get to join in yet.”
Hyunjin pressed a chaste kiss to Felix’s lips before turning back to her, his smirk widening.
“You’re gonna watch us first. And we’ll see if you’ve really learned your lesson.”
She moaned in frustration, her entire body burning as the two boys in front of her exchanged another lingering kiss—Hyunjin’s hand already moving to Felix’s waist, pulling him closer.
She shivered.
She was so screwed.
She had never seen Felix like this before.
Her breath caught as he positioned himself on all fours right in front of her, his head nestled between her thighs—close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath, but not close enough to give her anything.
“You like watching, sweetheart?” His voice was low, teasing, his dark eyes locked onto hers.
She squirmed, but her bindings didn’t let her move.
“Felix…” she whimpered.
He grinned—like he was relishing in her frustration. “Ah, but you don’t get to do anything yet.” His fingers grazed her thigh, making her body jolt. “You’re just gonna lay there and be our little audience for now.”
Behind him, Hyunjin’s hands smoothed over Felix’s waist, his fingers digging into his skin just slightly as he lined himself up.
“Relax for me, baby,” Hyunjin murmured, his tone softer, gentler—but his grip stayed firm. “You prepped well, yeah? I bet you’re gonna take me like a good boy.”
Felix shuddered, his fingers clutching at the sheets beneath him as he exhaled shakily. “Fuck, Jinnie…”
She watched, entranced, as Hyunjin pressed in slowly—his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Felix stretching around him for the first time.
“Shit…” Hyunjin let out a shaky groan, his fingers digging deeper into Felix’s hips. “You’re so fucking tight, Lix.”
Felix whined, his back arching, his breath coming out in shudders as he adjusted to the stretch.
And she—she was losing her mind.
Every little sound Felix made, every tiny movement, every time Hyunjin praised him—it was making her body burn with need.
“That’s my good boy,” Hyunjin murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Felix’s shoulder before rolling his hips deeper. “Taking me so fucking well…”
Felix moaned, his head dropping between her thighs, his breath coming out in hot, uneven gasps against her bare skin.
She could feel everything—his heavy breaths, the way his body tensed and trembled, how Hyunjin’s movements sent small shocks through him that transferred directly to her.
“F-Fuck…” Felix whispered, before suddenly lifting his head to look at her again. His lips were parted, his pupils blown with pleasure—and he was smirking.
“Poor baby,” Felix mocked, his voice breathless, but still full of teasing cruelty. “You just have to sit there and watch, huh? Bet you’re dying to be in my place.”
She whimpered, trying to close her legs, but Felix’s hands immediately pushed them apart again.
“Ah, ah,” he scolded playfully, his nails dragging along the inside of her thigh. “You don’t get to hide from me.”
Hyunjin’s pace picked up, his grip on Felix’s waist tightening as his voice came out in husky groans. “Look at you, baby… taking me so good“
Felix gasped, his fingers curling into the sheets as his whole body shuddered.
“Jinnie—fuck—”
She could barely breathe.
Hyunjin’s movements rocked Felix against her, every slight shift making his breath hitch against her skin, sending shocks straight to her core.
She wanted to move. She wanted to touch.
But she couldn’t do anything.
And Felix knew it.
His smirk deepened, his lips grazing her thigh as he watched her suffer.
“You gonna cry, baby?” His voice was mocking, but there was a deep hunger in his gaze. “You wanted this, didn’t you? To see what it’s like when you’re not the center of attention.”
Hyunjin let out a low chuckle, his fingers digging into Felix’s waist as he snapped his hips forward. “She looks so cute when she’s desperate, doesn’t she?”
Felix moaned, his nails scratching down the sheets as his body trembled from the impact.
And she—she was soaked, her body burning, her mind spiraling from the sight in front of her.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Please…” she whimpered, her voice shaking, pleading. “Please let me join…”
Felix tilted his head, pretending to think.
“Hmm…” His fingers ghosted up her thigh, but never touched her where she needed. “I don’t know, baby… you were pretty mean to us this week.”
Hyunjin groaned, snapping his hips deeper, making Felix’s whole body jolt. “Mmm, Lix… I think she’s learned her lesson.”
Felix’s eyes were dark, heated, as he looked at her.
“You think so?”
Hyunjin smirked. “Maybe we should still make her beg a little more…”
Felix chuckled, his breath hot against her skin.
“What do you think, sweetheart? You willing to beg for it?”
She was desperate. She’d never felt so frustrated, so needy—watching, feeling, hearing everything but not being allowed to have it.
“Please…” Her voice was breathless, her wrists straining against the binds as she tried to reach for Felix. “Please, I need it—”
Felix smirked, still breathless himself, his lips swollen from all the kissing, his golden skin flushed under Hyunjin’s hands.
“Mmm… What do you think, Jinnie?” His voice was mocking, but his body shivered under Hyunjin’s touch. “Should we give her something?”
Hyunjin, still thrusting deep into Felix, hummed thoughtfully before leaning forward and biting the back of his neck. “Mmm, I dunno…” he murmured against Felix’s sweaty skin. “You’re still so fucking tight, baby… I’m kinda distracted.”
Felix whimpered, his fingers clenching the sheets.
But then—Hyunjin’s eyes flickered to her.
“She is looking so pretty like this though,” he mused, his grip tightening on Felix’s hips as he snapped his own forward with more force. “Maybe we should let her feel something too… but only a little.”
Felix smirked again, shifting so his face was level with her aching, throbbing heat.
“Guess I could be nice to my poor, needy girl,” he murmured before lowering his mouth onto her.
She gasped, her whole body arching as Felix’s tongue slid through her wet folds, slow and deliberate, his breath hot against her.
“Ohh, look at you,” Hyunjin groaned, eyes flickering between them as he fucked into Felix harder. “Eating her out so sweetly while taking my cock so fucking good, Lix…”
Felix moaned against her, the vibrations sending shocks up her spine.
It was too much—the sight of Felix getting ruined, Hyunjin wrecking him, while she was finally getting something—finally getting a taste of the pleasure they’d been keeping from her.
But she was still tied up. Still helpless. Still at their mercy.
And Hyunjin was relentless.
“Fuck, baby, you’re gripping me so tight,” he growled, one hand sliding down to play with Felix’s sensitive nipples, tweaking and teasing, making Felix’s moans deepen against her core. “So fucking greedy—look at you—clenching around me like you wanna milk me dry.”
Felix whined, his body trembling, his tongue flicking harder against her just from the sheer pleasure of being fucked so good.
Her breath hitched. “Felix—fuck—”
She was so close, her body burning, her hands tugging uselessly at the restraints.
Hyunjin, noticing, chuckled breathlessly. “You wanna touch him that bad, sweetheart?” He leaned down, pressing kisses between Felix’s shoulder blades before whispering, “I think she’s been good enough to let her hands free… don’t you?”
Felix licked up her slit one last time before pulling away, his lips glistening, his voice husky.
“Mmm… I guess…”
He nodded, and Hyunjin untied her wrists.
Her hands flew forward immediately, grabbing onto Felix’s messy, sweat-damp hair, pulling him back into another kiss—his lips tasting like her, his moans spilling into her mouth as Hyunjin grabbed his hips and flipped him onto his back.
Felix gasped, his thighs spreading instinctively, his hair messy against the pillows as Hyunjin hovered over him again.
“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Hyunjin murmured, guiding himself back in, making Felix whine and arch up into the sensation. “So fucking addictive…”
Felix bit his lip, his eyes hazy, his body trembling under the weight of Hyunjin’s thrusts.
“Mmm, baby,” Hyunjin purred, fingers trailing down to toy with Felix’s nipples again, rolling them between his fingers. “So sensitive, huh? You love this, don’t you?”
Felix whimpered, his hips lifting in response.
And she—she was finally free, her hands shaking as she moved closer, pressing kisses along Felix’s jaw, her hands wandering, her body melting into his.
Felix smirked, even as his body shuddered from Hyunjin’s relentless pace.
“Mmm… you’ve been patient, sweetheart…”
Hyunjin grinned, leaning down to kiss Felix’s throat, his voice husky. “Alright, baby… time to give our girl some attention too…”
Hyunjin pulled out of Felix
“Fuck,” Hyunjin murmured, eyes flicking down to where Felix was still trembling slightly from the stretch. “You got a pretty hole, baby… looks even better stuffed full.”
Felix only smirked, still catching his breath, before grabbing her and pulling her in for a filthy, desperate kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, hungry, messy, fingers curling into her hair as if he needed to claim her all over again.
Hyunjin’s large hands gripped her waist from behind, his hot, heavy length pressing against her ass, grinding slow and deliberate.
“You know how long I’ve been thinking about this tight little pussy?” Hyunjin muttered against her ear, rubbing his tip against her, teasing, barely pressing in. “Had me up all fucking night, baby.”
She whimpered—aching, desperate—but before she could say anything, Felix was already positioning himself underneath her, guiding her over him, his tip nudging against her entrance.
“I still can’t believe this tight pussy can take both of us,” Hyunjin groaned, kissing down her neck, his teeth scraping over her pulse point as Felix slowly pushed inside her. “She was made for it, huh?”
She moaned, trembling, feeling Felix finally sink into her, stretching her in the best way.
“Mmm, fuck,” Felix groaned, hips twitching up, hands gripping her thighs, keeping her pinned against him. “Missed this pussy… she’s so fucking tight, Jinnie.”
Hyunjin chuckled, his lips ghosting over her shoulder, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along her back.
“You think she’s tight now?” he murmured, lining himself up, his tip pressing in beside Felix’s cock, nudging into her at the same time. “Wait ‘til I stretch her open.”
She cried out, hands clawing at Felix’s chest, her body shaking as the familiar overwhelming fullness took over.
“Fuuuuck, there she is,” Hyunjin groaned, slowly pushing deeper, watching the way she struggled to take them both, her body clenching around them. “You feel that, baby? This is what happens when you get greedy.”
Felix gasped beneath her, his head tilting back, his lips parting. “Shit, she’s squeezing me so good…”
Hyunjin gritted his teeth, grabbing her hips as he pushed in deeper, finally bottoming out. “She can take it—she’s our good little slut, aren’t you, baby?”
She moaned brokenly, her body overwhelmed, completely at their mercy.
“Mmm, fuck—look at her, Jinnie,” Felix panted, cupping her face, his thumbs brushing over her flushed cheeks. “She loves it. Always so fucking desperate to be stuffed full.”
Hyunjin smirked, pulling back only to slam back in, drawing a choked, wrecked moan from her throat.
“Oh, she’s getting off on this,” he murmured, setting a deep, steady pace, making sure she felt every inch of them both. “Look at you, baby—look how easy you take it. This pussy was made to be filled.”
Felix groaned, his hands moving to her hips, gripping her so tightly it was almost bruising. “You’re fucking perfect,” he whispered against her lips, his thrusts matching Hyunjin’s, both of them dragging against every sensitive spot inside her. “Gonna make you come so fucking hard, sweetheart.”
She was already shaking, barely holding on, her mind foggy, overwhelmed, every movement sending white-hot pleasure surging through her body.
“Come for us, baby,” Felix breathed against her lips. “Be a good girl and soak our cocks.”
And she did.
Her whole body seized up, pleasure crashing through her so violently she could barely breathe. She screamed, her walls clenching down around them both, pulling them even deeper
Hyunjin groaned, his hands tightening on her hips, but he didn’t stop—not yet.
“I’m not done with you yet, baby,” he murmured, slowing down just enough to slip out of her. “Felix—switch with me.”
Felix’s half-lidded eyes flickered open, and he grinned.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
She barely had time to catch her breath before Hyunjin was repositioning Felix over her instead, guiding him between her legs. The thick head of Felix’s cock nudged into her slick heat again, stretching her open just as Hyunjin pressed inside Felix from behind, the blunt tip of his cock pushing past the tight ring of muscle.
Felix’s breath hitched, his whole body tensing before a broken moan escaped his lips. His head fell against her shoulder, soft blonde strands brushing against her flushed skin as his lips parted against her throat.
“F-Fuck…” he gasped, his fingers gripping her wrists, pinning them over her head. His whole body trembled, caught between the overwhelming heat of her beneath him and the thick, unrelenting stretch of Hyunjin behind him.
“Mmm, just like that, baby,” Hyunjin groaned, his large hands splayed over Felix’s hips as he thrust forward, sinking in inch by inch.
Felix let out the prettiest whimper, his body shuddering as Hyunjin bottomed out. His nails dug into Y/N’s skin, his hips jerking involuntarily as pleasure wracked through him.
Hyunjin chuckled darkly, rolling his hips experimentally. “You love being filled up just as much as she does, huh?” He slid a hand up Felix’s back, pressing between his shoulder blades, arching him forward so Y/N could feel every delicious inch of him inside her. “Look at you—already falling apart, and I’ve barely even fucked you yet.”
Felix could only let out a broken whine, his body writhing between them.
“So fucking greedy,” Hyunjin murmured, grabbing a fistful of Felix’s hair and tilting his head back, forcing him to meet Y/N’s gaze. “She sees it too. Sees how fucking pretty you look getting stretched out on my cock. Doesn’t she, baby?”
“Tell her,” Hyunjin demanded, pulling back just enough before slamming forward again, making Felix cry out. “Tell her how fucking good it feels to be stuffed full like this.”
“I-It feels… so good—fuck, Hyunjin—please don’t stop,” Felix sobbed, his thighs trembling as Hyunjin set a merciless pace, thrusting into him deep and slow, making sure Felix felt every inch.
“That’s my good boy,” Hyunjin praised, his grip tightening on Felix’s hips. “Taking it so well. Letting me stretch you open, fuck you like you were made for it.”
Felix whimpered, his body shaking, overwhelmed by the relentless pleasure.
Hyunjin smirked against his ear, his voice low and teasing. “I can feel you squeezing me, baby. You gonna come just from getting your pretty little ass fucked?”
Felix could barely hold himself up, his cock twitching inside his Girlfriend as he let out a desperate moan.
She watched them both, her heart racing, her body still tingling from her orgasm—and yet, she still wanted more.
Felix kissed her, deep and slow, moaning into her mouth as Hyunjin fucked into him, his thrusts pushing Felix even deeper into her.
“Ohhh, fuck—” Felix moaned, gripping her hips, rolling his hips against her, his thrusts syncing with Hyunjin’s.
Hyunjin smirked, reaching around to tweak one of Felix’s nipples, making him gasp and arch.
Hyunjin started kissing Felix’s shoulder, his pace increasing, his thrusts hitting deeper. “Your ass is fucking addictive, baby.”
She was panting, aching, watching them lose themselves in each other, and it was the hottest fucking thing she’d ever seen.
“Such a pretty boy, isn’t he, sweetheart?” Hyunjin murmured, looking at her, smirking when he saw her bitten lips, her dazed eyes, her raw need.
“Mmm,” Felix hummed, grinning lazily, kissing her soft and slow.
Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before pleasure slammed into her again, harder, deeper—so overwhelming that she could only moan, her body shuddering as another orgasm ripped through her. Her thighs trembled, her skin burning where Felix had gripped her, where Hyunjin’s rough hands had roamed. She could still feel the aftershocks pulsing between her legs when she let out a desperate whimper.
“Pull out,” she gasped, voice raw from moaning.
Felix stilled, blinking down at her with glazed-over eyes, his lips parted in heavy breaths. Even Hyunjin, usually so composed, faltered for a second, watching her with dark, hooded eyes.
“I need to see you getting off on Hyunjin’s dick,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
Felix shivered at her words, but before he could respond, Hyunjin’s hands slid up his thighs, squeezing firmly.
“Fuck, you’re such a little slut for us, aren’t you?” Hyunjin groaned, lips grazing Felix’s ear. “Getting all desperate just to watch me fuck him senseless?”
Felix let out a breathy moan as Hyunjin pulled him flush against his chest, his cock still buried deep inside him. Slowly, Hyunjin adjusted, gripping Felix’s hips and guiding him into position—his back pressed against Hyunjin’s solid chest, his legs spread wide over Hyunjin’s thighs.
“Be a gentleman, Felix,” Hyunjin murmured, amusement lacing his voice. “Do what the pretty girl with the pretty pussy wants.”
Felix whimpered as Hyunjin tilted his chin, forcing him to look at Y/N.
“Let her see how fucking wrecked you are on my cock, baby.”
Felix let out a sharp gasp at the change in angle, his head falling back against Hyunjin’s shoulder. He was completely at his mercy now.
“Shit, look at you,” Hyunjin growled, hands tightening on Felix’s waist as he lifted him. “So fucking tight—taking me so well, baby. You love this, don’t you? Love being my little fucktoy while she watches?”
Felix barely managed a nod before Hyunjin slammed him back down, making him cry out.
“Just like that,” Hyunjin praised, his voice thick with arousal. He held Felix’s thighs still, keeping him open, exposed, as he thrust up into him—deep, brutal, claiming.
Y/N could barely breathe as she watched—watched the way Felix’s body trembled, the way his cock bounced with every thrust, the way his pretty lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure.
Felix’s moans were high-pitched, desperate. “I’m— I’m gonna—”
Hyunjin smirked against his neck. “Yeah? You gonna come just from getting fucked like this?” He reached around, wrapping his fingers around Felix’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. “Be a good boy and make a mess for us, baby. Show her how pretty you look when I fuck you dumb.”
Felix let out a choked sob as his whole body tensed, his orgasm slamming into him so hard that he nearly collapsed. His thighs trembled violently, his breath shattering into desperate, broken moans. Hot ropes of white painted Y/N’s stomach as he shuddered in Hyunjin’s lap, overstimulated and wrecked beyond comprehension.
But Hyunjin wasn’t done with him.
Hyunjin groaned, his pace stuttering as he pushed in deep one last time, grinding into Felix, making sure he felt every thick inch buried inside him. His voice was low and wrecked, the pleasure overwhelming, his grip tightening on Felix’s hips as he spilled inside him, his body jerking with the force of it. “Taking every last drop like a good little slut, aren’t you?”
Felix could barely think, as Hyunjin held him there, grinding lazily, dragging out every last wave of pleasure. Felix whimpered, still twitching, still clenching around Hyunjin’s cock like he didn’t want to let go.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were the ragged breaths, the sticky heat of bodies trembling in the aftermath.
And then, slowly, Hyunjin pulled out.
Felix whimpered at the loss, his thighs weak, his whole body shaking. But Hyunjin wasn’t finished admiring his work. He grabbed Felix’s ass, spreading him open, his voice thick with satisfaction.
“Look at this, babe,” he murmured.
Y/N’s breath hitched as she took in the sight—Felix’s hole still stretched and fluttering, slick with Hyunjin’s release, a slow, milky trickle escaping. The heat in her stomach burned, watching the way Felix trembled under their gazes, his lips parted in exhausted bliss.
Before Felix could react, she leaned in—her tongue flicking out, catching the mess before it could spill.
Felix gasped sharply, his whole body jolting, overstimulated. His fingers twitched against Y/N’s skin, his breath hitching in disbelief.
Hyunjin chuckled darkly, dragging his fingers along Felix’s trembling thighs. “Shit, baby—watching her clean you up? You like that?” His voice was teasing, smug, fully aware of how wrecked Felix was beneath his touch.
Felix only let out a weak whimper, his mind too foggy to form words.
Hyunjin tilted his head, watching Y/N with dark amusement as she licked him clean. “Taste me, baby,” he murmured, his fingers stroking up her spine. “Tell me how good my cum tastes on your tongue.”
Y/N pulled back slightly, lips glistening, her expression slow and sultry as she met his gaze. She let her tongue flick over her lips, savoring the warmth, the musk, the saltiness that lingered.
And then, she smirked.
“So good.”
(it‘s me… the author… see what i did there ? LIFE IS SO GOOD LA LA LA LA LA)
⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, creampie, chan is a wee bit manipulative, mdni
notes: im currently out of the country so this is a queued post I had pre-written to keep you hoes guys well fed 😇 can't wait to read what you guys think when i get back <3
You were just trying to get work done.
Really. The spreadsheet is still open on your screen, cursor blinking accusingly from where you left it. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, your eyes blurry from staring too long, but still—you’re trying.
Chan is the one who’s not letting you.
“Just the tip,” he whispers again, soft and sinful in your ear, voice cracking like he means it. Like it’s not the third time he’s said it in the last two minutes. His hands are already under your hoodie, thumbs sliding across the swell of your hips, coaxing you back into his lap even as you lean forward to type.
“Chan,” you sigh, warning in your voice.
“I won’t even move, baby. Just let me feel you,” he breathes, cock straining against his briefs beneath you. “I just need it for a second, that’s all. You can keep working—I'll be quiet, promise.”
You glance over your shoulder. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted, cheeks pink. He’s already flushed like he’s inside you. Like this whole thing isn’t absolutely deranged.
You’re still in his lap. You should’ve never sat down there in the first place, but he’d looked so sweet. All pouty and clingy and pathetic, murmuring “don’t wanna be away from you,” pulling you down with him on the chair like you weren’t busy.
Now his hands are splayed across your thighs, warm and firm, shifting you just enough that you can feel the outline of him, thick and ready and twitching.
“Chan, I have three reports due tonight—”
“And I’ll help,” he interrupts, kissing the back of your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Just lemme slip in a little. Just the tip, baby. Just want to warm up in you while you work—feels good for both of us, yeah?”
You narrow your eyes at your laptop, like it’ll give you strength. But your traitorous body is already pressing back into him, pulse fluttering low.
He feels it.
“See? Your body wants it too,” he whispers, voice cracking into a whine. “So warm for me already, baby. Don’t be mean.”
You feel him shift beneath you, one hand slipping between your thighs now, fingers curling over your waistband and tugging slow—so slow it makes you shiver. He’s savoring it, like dragging it out will make you beg instead. Like he’s waiting for that last thread of resistance to snap.
“C’mon,” he murmurs, kissing just behind your ear. “Let me in. Just a little. Just to take the edge off.”
You lift your hips without meaning to.
It’s instinct. That’s all. Instinct and exhaustion and the heat of his breath behind your ear. You don’t even look at him as you help shimmy your shorts and underwear down to your knees, keeping your eyes on the screen like that’ll anchor you.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes.
And then he’s there—pressing the thick head of his cock between your folds, guiding it with a shaky hand. He groans the second he feels how wet you are, lets out the softest “shit,” and you feel the tremble in his thighs as he drags the tip through your slick again and again.
You should stop him. You don’t.
He notches himself at your entrance, breathing through his nose like he’s trying to behave.
Then slowly—slowly—he sinks the tip inside you.
Your hands curl into fists on your thighs.
“You okay?” he asks, already breathless.
You nod, just once. Not trusting your voice.
“Good,” he pants, lips brushing your nape. “Good girl. Just like that. Just the tip. Just the—”
He pushes deeper.
“—fucking tip, baby, shit—”
He doesn’t bottom out.
He could. He’s close—closer than he said he’d be. But he stops, hips twitching, breath caught in his throat like it physically hurts him to hold back.
“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, rocking his hips just enough to press deeper into your heat, but not enough to give you relief. “So warm, so fucking wet. You’re dripping all over me, baby.”
You shake your head, trying to deny it, but his hand slides between your thighs before you can speak. His fingers come back soaked.
“Look at this,” he murmurs, holding them up, then licking them clean. “You sure you don’t want it?”
You don’t answer. You can’t.
Your eyes flick back to your laptop screen—numbers blurring, words meaningless. Your body is hot, trembling, strung out on the edge of something you don’t want to name. You should tell him to stop.
You don’t.
“I could make you feel so good,” he says, kissing your shoulder. “So good you’d forget your deadlines. Forget your name. You’d let me fuck you right here in this chair and you’d still thank me for it.”
You clench around him, involuntary.
He laughs, soft and breathless. The sound curls straight into your gut.
“You feel that?” he asks, nuzzling behind your ear again. “Your pussy knows what you want even if you won’t say it. She’s so honest. She wants me.”
You press your lips together to keep from moaning.
He feels it—of course he does. He’s tuned to every twitch, every breath, every little squeeze of your body around him. And right now, you’re holding onto restraint by a thread, and he’s sawing through it with every word out of his mouth.
“She’s being so good for me,” he murmurs, one hand drifting back between your legs to stroke where he’s barely inside you. “So soft, so greedy. Just keeps pulling me in, baby.”
You grab the edge of the desk like it’ll help you hold yourself together. It doesn’t.
“She wants more,” he continues, the tease thick in his voice now. “I bet you do too. You want it, don’t you? Want me to fill you up, fuck you dumb, keep you nice and stuffed while you try to finish your little reports—”
“Christopher—”
His name breaks in your throat, barely a breath, but it makes his whole body shudder.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, like you just said something filthy. “Say it again.”
You don’t. You can’t. Your lips part, but nothing comes out, and he takes that as its own kind of answer.
He noses along your jaw, voice a cracked whisper. “You know what that does to me. You say my name like that and expect me to just sit still?”
He rocks his hips—again, shallow. Controlled. But deeper this time. Enough to make you gasp. Enough to knock the breath from your lungs when he sinks just a little more inside.
“Fuck—look at you,” he whispers, holding you tight as you writhe in his lap. “You’re taking me so good, baby. Didn’t even need prep. Didn’t need to be told. Just opened right up like you were waiting for me.”
You shake your head, weak. “You said—just the tip—”
He hums, low and teasing. “I said that. But you didn’t say no when I gave you more.”
You don’t respond.
“Didn’t stop me,” he murmurs, breath warm against your cheek. “Didn’t push me away. You’re still letting me fuck myself in, baby. You know it's yours, baby .”
His voice is wrecked now, slurred with need, but still so tender. So sweet it makes your throat tighten. His cock pushes deeper like he’s punctuating the words—inch by inch, careful and slow, dragging it out like he wants to feel every trembling second of you giving in.
“And you’re mine,” he whispers. “All mine, aren’t you?”
You nod. Barely. But it’s enough. You hear the way his breath catches in his throat, feel the way his arms tighten around your waist like he needs to hold you to keep from falling apart.
“Fuck, I love you like this,” he groans, forehead pressed to your temple. “So pliant. So sweet for me. Just letting me take whatever I want.”
Another thrust, deeper. His cock finally, fully sheathed inside you.
Your breath stutters. Your body seizes around him.
And he moans, low and ragged and grateful.
“God—baby—look at that. Took all of me, didn’t you?” he murmurs, hips barely moving now, just enough to let you feel the stretch, the weight of him. “Knew you would. Knew this tight little cunt missed me.”
You gasp, jaw slack, spine curving back against him.
He laughs softly, mouth against your skin. “Yeah. That’s it. You can pretend you didn’t want it. But look at you now.”
He rocks up once—slow and deep—and it’s too much. You cry out, sharp and quiet, and his hand immediately comes up to cover your mouth.
“Shh, shh—baby,” he soothes. “You said you had work to do, remember?”
You nod against his palm, eyes fluttering, mouth parted around gasps you can’t even hear over your heartbeat.
“Then be a good girl,” he whispers, voice like silk soaked in sin. “Keep working.”
His hand drops from your mouth, slides down to your thigh as he rocks into you again—slow, syrup-thick thrusts that force soft whines out of you with every drag.
“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs. “Hands on the keyboard. Don’t make me ask again.”
You blink at the screen, vision blurry, legs trembling where they straddle his. The spreadsheet is still open. The cursor still blinking. You could type something. You could pretend.
That’s what he wants, after all.
Just pretend.
You bring your hands up, fingers shaking as you rest them over the keys. You press a few—nonsense inputs—like that’ll satisfy him. Like it’s not so obvious how far gone you are..
“Good girl,” he says, hips snapping up once—sharp and precise. “That’s it. Keep typing while I fuck you full.”
Your fingers stutter over the keys—random characters stringing out across the screen in some hopeless imitation of productivity.
It doesn’t matter. Not to him. Not to you.
Not when he’s buried to the hilt inside you, cock dragging deep and slow with every calculated thrust. Not when every word he says drips honey and sin into your ears.
“Such a pretty little worker,” he groans, mouth brushing your temple. “Look at you. Taking my cock like you were made for it, still trying to do your job.”
He presses a kiss there, tender, like he isn’t actively wrecking you from the inside out.
Your legs tremble again. Your hands slip off the keyboard for a moment and he catches your wrist, brings it back into place.
“Uh-uh,” he murmurs. “No slacking.”
He thrusts deeper, harder, and the gasp you let out nearly knocks your laptop off the desk.
You can’t feel your fingers anymore. Can’t see the screen. The spreadsheet is a blur of black and white and nothing.
But he’s everything.
The way his voice wraps around you like velvet. The way his cock drags through your soaked heat, claiming every inch like he was built to be there. The way his breath stutters when your walls flutter around him, like he’s surprised you still want him after everything.
“Gonna come for me again?” he pants, voice ragged. “Look at you—so fucking perfect. So wrecked and still letting me use you. You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you, baby?”
You nod. You don’t even try to speak.
Because he’s right. He’s always right when it comes to your body. Your reactions. Your limits. He reads them like scripture, responds to them like worship.
His hand finds your clit again, and this time, he doesn’t play. No teasing. No mercy.
Just pressure. Rhythm. Just enough.
Your body tenses instantly, the tight coil in your gut snapping before you even realize what’s happening. The orgasm hits hard, violent in how it grips you. You whimper, legs buckling, forehead pressed to your forearm on the desk.
And Chan—he doesn’t stop.
Not yet.
He fucks you through it, holds you tight as your cunt spasms around him, praises spilling from his lips in a broken rush.
“That’s it. That’s my girl. So good for me. So perfect. Letting me fuck you stupid while you’re working—fuck—you're so fucking sexy—”
His voice cracks on the last word, like he’s overwhelmed by his own need, like even he can’t believe how far gone you’ve made him. His thrusts stutter, his hands gripping your hips too tight to be gentle—but even now, there’s love in every filthy word that spills from his mouth.
“I can’t—fuck, baby—I’m gonna come—”
And you just nod, barely able to breathe, still shaking from your own release, still dripping with him, stretched and full and ruined.
“I need it,” he groans. “Need to come inside you again, baby, please—wanna fill you up, wanna make you mine—”
You don’t even need to say yes. Your body says it for you, clenching tight around him, pulling him deeper, and that’s it.
He breaks.
“Fuckfuckfuck—baby—god—”
He spills into you with a desperate cry, hips jerking up into yours as his orgasm tears through him like a storm. He holds you there, flush against him, trembling beneath your weight as his cock throbs deep inside.
And then—
Stillness.
Silence, except for the sound of your breathing, ragged and uneven, and his heart pounding against your back like a war drum.
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t pull out.
Doesn’t even let go.
He just wraps his arms around your middle and buries his face in your neck, breath hot and shaky against your skin.
“Holy shit,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “You’re unreal.”
You laugh—barely. More like a broken breath through your nose. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Worth it,” he murmurs, smiling into your shoulder. “Die full.”
You snort, weakly. “Shut up.”
He kisses your neck, then your jaw, then the space just behind your ear that makes you shiver again. “You okay?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“I’ll get you cleaned up in a second,” he promises, voice already softening with aftercare. “But right now…” He lets out a content sigh, arms tightening around your waist. “I just wanna hold you.”
You hum and let yourself sink into him, hips still nestled against his, cock still buried inside you, warmth still spreading between your thighs.
He strokes your hair, pressing another kiss to your temple.
Then—after a long pause—he peeks over your shoulder at the screen.
“…You didn’t finish the report,” he says solemnly.
You groan, letting your head drop forward onto your arms. “You think?”
He chuckles. “If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll type the rest for you.”
You turn just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. “With what energy?”
He grins, all smug and sweet and way too pleased with himself. “Fair point.”
Your eyes rolled as you inhaled, willing the smoke to fill your mouth, then your lungs. Riri stood by, watching your fluid movements like she was drawn to them. You puckered your lips and blew your residual smoke right into her face. She didn’t flinch. Just smiled. That stupid, sweet little smirk that sent shivers down your spine.
Warnings: smutty lil fic, so 18+, dom!Riri, sub!reader, pantysniffing!Riri(she just likes your pheromones), striptease!reader, fingering(reader receiving), oral(reader receiving, she just wanna spoil you this time around)overstimulation, no doesn't mean no, slight mention of Riri impregnanting you, Explicit language, N-word usage, angst (mom and daughter relationships are tough), brief mentions of a sick family member, established secret relationship, ends in heartbreak (I'm sorryyyy), probably some that I forgot
Word Count: 6.7k+
Tags: @percsane @zestgodtj @k3nn3dyxo @mlmilani @letitias-fav @doms-fav @sweetalittleselfish-honey @g4yforu @widowmakker @becauseimswagman1 @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @laurensmabel1 @malltake12 @msudaku @faeriah-thv @fetchyourlife @mbakuetshurisprincess @sinsikoxo @honey-teaaaaaaaa @rxcently @pinkcorns @takeyaki @yamsthoughts @thethickerside @0hshoot1tsl4ni @shurisbathwater @shurismainbxtch @luvrzhearts @sadfreakx @shuri-my-love @justariellove @heartsforjojo @blackgirlfariy @tuesdaylovesu @chocoflagcutii @taiiunknown @zhanylai @ziayamikaelson @verachii @taiiunknown @beautybyfire @soearthquakequeen @remwritess @pinkwright @jenlouvre @letitiasleftfoot @6-noir @kya-rose @saintwrld @someshuriposts @jessiap @ilikegecos @iiluvl4n @katymae12344 @shurismainbxtch @crookedsaladlover @motheroffae @saintwrld @marsolgy @ogbells16 @verachii @shuriszn @playgurlxoxoo @ashleighshaw @te-23 @dominquesheart @shuridefenselawyer @iminlovewithdomandtish @limbozqueen @cansah2002-blog
Enjoy <3
“You sold your soul-” Riri’s voice echoed across your mother’s front stoop, cutting through the warm evening air.
The sun had run its course, dragging through the sky until it was sitting low, casting a muted orange hue across the south Chicago street. Street lamps were flickering on for the night, and kids raced to make it over the threshold of their mama’s houses before the moon claimed the sky.
“Here you go with the dramatics, Ri,” your older sister, Niq, responded with a shake of her head, her shoulder-length locs jerking subtly with the movement.
She was going to have to cut those locs tonight, and the realization felt like a punch to the gut. You remembered how excited she was to start them finally; she’d been begging you to twist her hair for weeks.
“C’mon, y/n, you got somethin’ better to do than your big sister’s hair? I practically raised you-” she’d followed you around the house like a lost puppy.
“You ain’ raise shit, Niq. We’re 15 months apart,” you’d dismissed her, cringing as you heard your mom's sharp “Language!” echo across the house.
“My bad, ma!”
“Please, doll?” she rattled off your childhood nickname. It was what she’d called you until she was five, having thought you were a baby doll that your mother had brought home for her.
“I got a pile of homework, Niq-” It wasn’t an excuse. Niq might’ve graduated last May, but you had a whole year to go until your high school career ended, and you were trying to graduate with ‘valedictorian’ in front of your name. You were already on the right path. Known as a straight A student and a teacher’s pet, captain of the debate team, and ol’ girl who got a perfect score on her SAT. You heard the way they spoke about you in the halls, thinking you weren’t listening. “That’s Niq’s sister? Niq Davis?” the teachers would whisper when you walked past. “You sure they got the same DNA?” the nosy adults wondered aloud.
The other students who knew of Niq Davis avoided you altogether, and you were much too smart not to notice why. She threatened anyone who so much as breathed at you wrong, leaning way too hard into the ‘older sister’ bit. There wasn’t enough of an age difference between the two of you for it to matter who was older.
Still, she knew that with enough persistence, you weren’t going to tell her no. Ever the people pleaser, you’d started her locs that same night, pushing aside the assignments you knew needed to be completed.
Your mind drifted back to a time before any of this. Before the distance. Before the choices. You remembered the days when it was just you, Niq, and the smell of cocoa butter in the air while you twisted her locs, smoothing them with tender fingers, lost in the rhythm of your shared space. The hours felt like minutes, the moments like treasures.
Niq and Riri didn’t acknowledge your presence, seated in one of your grandmother’s rocking chairs on the porch, face illuminated, but hidden behind your large laptop screen, tabs open and forgotten. You didn’t bother to make yourself known, blending into the background without a care. They knew you were there, allowing you to take up space in their bubble. Ri’s eyes flickered over to you every so often, catching your gaze when you happened to be looking up.
Riri had been around since Niq was in the 8th grade, with you in the 7th. She and her mother had just moved to the neighborhood, but really, it was like she surfaced out of nowhere. One day she wasn’t there, the next day, she was. You don’t remember their first meeting, just that Riri’s been around ever since.
Niq hardly ever came home without Riri in tow. She was present for Sunday dinners and holidays. Hell, you’d lost count of how many times you’d passed her in the hall first thing in the morning as if she’d never gone home the night before.
Last night she hadn’t, laid up on the couch with a thick blanket and the plate your mama had handed her, balancing on her lap. She was there when you descended the stairs this morning, giving you a passing grin, accompanied by the tick of her brow when her eyes traveled over your figure, taking in the length of your bare legs beneath a shirt three sizes too big. Her sleep-laced voice muttered out a “Hey, doll,” to which you responded with only a nod.
You hated that nickname, wishing that your mom or grandma had pushed your sister to learn your name instead of cooing over her struggling to say ‘doll’ with no front teeth.
Riri sat across from your sister, tightly rolling a blunt between her nimble fingers, lifting it to lick the wrapper before sealing it in place. Her hand lazed to the side, offering the piece to Niq, who shook her head, rejecting it idly. “I can’t, Riri.”
“Tell me why you doing this shit again,” Ri’s voice was calm, tucking the blunt into the corner of her lip, turning to blow smoke in the opposite direction.
“I don told you bout thirty times-”
“Tell me again,” she interrupted. She wasn’t really asking; she was pushing.
Niq leaned back on her hands, stretching her legs out until they reached the step below her. You took the moment to study your sister, taking mental images of her face as if you could forget it when she was gone. It was the same face that you bore, the two of you often being mistaken for twins, all because your mom’s genes were strong as hell.
Niq got your dad’s lighter brown eyes that you’d only ever seen through photographs, while you got your mom’s almost black ones. Other than eye color, the similarities were identical. Same wide nose, same plump lips. You and Niq used to joke that you were supposed to be born as twins, but you ‘needed an extra year to finish baking.’ As you got older, the joke started to make less sense. Niq continued to grow past your shorter frame, straightening out all of her curves and sharpening her features.
“I gotta get outta Chicago, Ri,” your sister responded. “This ain’ my end-all, be-all.”
“Who said it gotta be?”
Niq’s head fell back like it was too heavy for her slender shoulders, a humorless laugh escaping between her lips. “If I don’t get out now, imma be stuck. We both know that.”
“Nigga, why you talk like you ain’ never gonna come back?” Riri asked, accidentally blowing smoke in Niq’s direction.
She fanned it away, annoyed. “Man, watch that shit. I gotta report in the morning, I can’t go in smelling like weed.”
“My bad, my bad,” Riri said solemnly, assisting Niq in dispersing the smoke through the air.
“Imma come back, Ri. My baby sister here, and my momma.”
“Baby my ass,” you grumbled lowly. Riri let a small grin spread across her face like she heard you.
“Why the military, though, Niq? You used to be the life of the party, man. Won’t nobody coming out if you wasn’t there, and now you risking your life? For what?” Ri started, though she had no intentions of actually letting Niq answer. “For a country that wouldn’t risk they life for yours?”
“Ri-” Niq started, trying to interrupt.
“You a stud black woman that dress like a nigga. You a minority if I ever seen one, man,” Riri set the blunt on the cement step next to her, freeing her hands to form a fist to accentuate her words. “You gay, a woman, and black! How bout you pick a struggle before you go off to war to fight for mine-”
Niq flexed her leg, kicking Riri swiftly in the shin. “Will you shut the fuck up?” She asked, turning to look through the open front door to see if your mom or grandmother were lingering.
The eyeroll you gave came from deep in your soul. Yes, you were the genius of the family, but Niq couldn’t be that fucking dense. Both your mother and grandmother knew of her sexuality; they’d spoken to you about it on many occasions, mistaking Niq and Ri for a couple.
“This girl think I don’t know what go on in my own house?” Your moms scoffed.
You reached for the pack of grapes she was washing, risking a pop to your hand before popping one into your mouth. With a crunch, you’d responded, “They don’t go together, ma.”
“I’m not stupid, y/n-”
“Never said you was, mama,” you’d cut her off, biting back a smile. “They can’t, though.”
“And why is that?” your grandmama chimed in from the other side of the kitchen. “Back in my day, it was frowned upon, but don’t yall got that ‘pride’ shit now?”
“Language, mama,” your moms chimed in without looking up from her task.
“Girl, I gave birth to you. You not gon correct me on my language, I’ll say whatever the fuck I want-”
You were quick to interject; they could go all day if you didn’t. Reaching for another grape, you spoke up, “They’d kill each other tryna decide which one of them is the man in the relationship,” you joked, quickly turning on your heel and exiting the room before they could ask any more questions. God forbid they get you to slip up about the girl Niq used to sneak into her room when she thought everyone was asleep.
“I’m tryna make life better, Ri. My future gotta be better than my past, and there ain’t no way Imma bank bankroll that without giving something up in return.”
“What was wrong with the way we was doing shit before?”
“I’m too pretty for jail is what was wrong, Riri.”
“Nigga, please-” Ri tucked the blunt back into her mouth, holding a lighter to the charred end and inhaling deeply. “So what now?”
“What you mean?”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do while you gone, Niq? How I’m supposed to get this shit off me?” She gestured to the illegal drug rolled solid and burning between her lips. “What-” her voice cracked in a way that was unlike Riri.
A cough brought it back to life, but you’d noticed the disregarded tear in Riri’s right eye. “What am I gon do without you?”
Niq’s shoulders dropped, weighing heavily from the same emotion Riri was trying to hold at bay. She looked back at you, locking eyes for what felt like a solid minute. “You gon take care of doll for me.”
Her words shocked you, leaning your frame forward until you almost fell out of the chair. “She gon what?” You finally spoke up loudly enough to be heard, causing a second pair of eyes to land on you.
This pair burned a bit, clinging to you as if it didn’t want to let go. “Imma what?” She questioned without looking away.
Niq turned back to Riri. “Look out for doll for me, Ri.”
“What the fuck I need taking care of for Niq?” you broke your gaze off of Riri, feeling a tug in your chest as you did.
“Language!” your mother yelled from inside the house.
“How you hear me and not them?” you yelled back, sweeping your hand towards the girls seated across from you, still on the steps.
“You starting college next month, doll. You need to stay on the right path; Riri gon make sure you do.”
“I’m starting college next month, Niq. Meaning I am an adult. Meaning I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Yeah, that’s not exactly what I was volunteering for, Niq-” Riri went unheard as the argument between sisters grew louder.
“I’m not gonna be here to look out for you, y/n-”
“I don’t need you looking out for me! You’re going to basic training, nigga, not war!”
“I don’t know when imma be back!” Niq’s voice rang over yours, shutting you up as what seemed like a street full of nosy neighbors went silent. “I got basic training, then AIT, then who knows where the fuck imma end up.”
Riri’s head dropped, not wanting to imagine the possibilities, while you glared at your sister, not backing down from hers. “I graduated, then dipped, y/n. You graduated top of your class. You got into every college you applied to, and I barely got into the community college.”
Her leg rose as she climbed the steps, reaching you in three quick movements. “You got something going for you,” Niq said, grabbing your hands. “Ain’ nothing wrong with joining the military, but this was my last resort, doll,” she stated with a small smile. “Selling dope couldn’t be it for me. I wanna not live with ma and granny one day.”
Both your lines of vision dropped to your connected hands, and you squeezed tighter. She was leaving you in the morning. Your older sister, your first friend.
“This the only way imma make a name for myself,” she said before turning back to Riri. “Promise me you gon look out for her.”
Riri lifted her head slowly, dragging her eyes up to meet yours. Gazes locked, she promised, lips barely parting.
“Good,” Niq replied, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “My doll better be in one piece when I get back.”
Niq didn’t come back. Not on some morbid shit, she was alive and well, just caught up in the U.S. military’s fucked up sense of humor. South Korea, they said, for the next two and a half years. Over six thousand miles away, with a 14-hour time difference. Which meant, for the past six months, texting had been your lifeline, and even that was spotty. By the time the sun rose in Chicago, she was well into her work day, and when she went to lay her head down at night, you were well into yours. You’d heard your sister’s voice less in these couple of months than you ever had in your entire life.
And of course, shit hit the fan once she left. Grandma got sick, real sick. The type of sick that at-home remedies and late-night prayers couldn’t touch. The nursing home three miles up the road had been the only option left, and she wasn’t exactly willing to go. Dragging her there had damn near broken something in your mom. “When it rains, it pours,” she’d murmured that night, wiping at the tears she wouldn’t allow to fall.
With you and Mama being the only two at home now, things got tense. You were her sole focus, and arguing had become a daily task, and you were sick of it. She was hyperfixated on you, the way you dressed, how you wore your hair, even how often you were coming home.
“We spent time and money decorating that dorm room, and you don’t even wanna stay in it!” She said it like a punchline every time you walked in the door. No greeting. Just disappointment dressed in a sigh.
As unbearable as she was making it, home was your escape. It was frozen in a time before everything changed and everyone left. Niq’s room still looked the same—messy, loud, alive. Her dirty laundry littered the floor like she’d just stepped out. Her vinyls still clung to the wall, crooked and fading, collecting dust. Grandma’s room hadn’t changed since you were a kid. Same heavy curtains blocking out the sun, same stack of books in the corner, like she’d be back any minute.
And college? A fucking joke. The workload hit you in relentless waves, and you couldn’t stay afloat. Your grades were in free fall, D’s scattered across your progress report like bruises. You were too tired to even pretend to care anymore.
Your roommate didn’t help. A bubbly blonde from ‘Bama who “didn’t get why you needed all those products” for your hair. She partied constantly, stumbled in loud as hell, and crashed wherever she landed. Once, you found her asleep facedown in your hamper.
You were over it. Done. Ready to tap out
That’s what tonight’s argument was about. “I’ll be damned if you dropout, y/n! That’s not an option!”
You leaned over the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so hard your knuckles ached.
“I can’t do it anymore, ma-”
“Yes, you can, and you will! Take a break. Set a damn schedule," she snapped, waving her hands like she was shooing a demon. "Sleep in that dorm room we paid for so you ain’t commuting back and forth every night!"
“You not hearing me-”
"You’re damn right I’m not! Your sister made it through basic training; You can survive a few essays!"
And there it was. That sharp little blade she loved to twist—Niq.
“Niq wasn’t walking out my house with her belly out-”
“Niq didn’t spend hundreds of dollars on some braids-”
Niq didn’t curse, cry, or crumble. You were sick of living in her shadow.
“Whatever, ma,” you mumbled, stomping towards the front door.
“Whachu say, girl?” she shot back, sharp and fast. She heard you. She just wanted to give you the chance to backpedal.
Instead, you doubled down. “WHATEVER, ma!” you shouted harshly, yanking the door and slamming it behind you. “Fuck!”
The air outside hit your face like a slap—cool, grounding. You closed your eyes, and sucked in a long breath until your lungs felt full enough to float.
“Your sister would beat your ass, she heard you talking to your mama like that,” a voice spoke up from the far corner of the porch, casual, but heavy. Familiar.
“My sister ain’ here,” you retorted, eyes still shut.
The creak of wood under their skeptical footsteps. Then the warm, familiar scent of lavender and amber rolled over you, soft and cloying. Your curls lifted in the breeze before dropping back down like they were tired too.
“Then maybe I should beat your ass for her.” It sounded like a tease, but you knew of the real threat that hung beneath those words.
You sighed, deep and heavy. Like it was too much effort to drag your eyes open and stare at her like she was the last person you wanted to see and the only one you needed. “What you want, Riri?”
She stood across from you now, just an arm’s length away. Her signature cornrows were gathered into two buns at the nape of her neck, where two chains hung, glittering in the sun. The plain black tee she wore was skin tight, a stark contrast to the baggy pants that hung low on her hips. Your eyes dropped—unapologetically. You took your time dragging them back up to hers. Her gaze was already waiting.
“Checkin’ on you like Niq asked me to,” she said with a sniff and a smirk, dropping her head to hide it.
She’d kept to her promise, you had to give her that. Riri had slipped into your routine like she’d always belonged. Calling, dropping by, showing up unannounced just to make sure you were still breathing.
You heard her voice more than Niq’s now.
Saw her more, too.
Her eyes rose when you moved, watching you reach up to gather your hair into a puff atop your head. “You talk to her today?” you asked.
Riri shook her head, causing the chains to twinkle as they brushed over each other. “You?” she questioned back, noticing you staring at the necklaces.
“Nope,” you responded, popping the ‘p’.
“What was that just now?” she asked, nodding in the direction of the house where your mother could still be heard fussing behind the thick wooden door.
“Nothin’ I wanna talk about.”
She didn’t press. That’s what made it easier. “Ight, ight,” she lulled off. “You going back to the dorm tonight, or you crashing here?”
“I ain’ ‘crashing’ nowhere, Ri. This my house.”
Riri sucked her teeth. You smiled before you could stop yourself. “Girl, answer the damn question,” Her soft laugh made your stomach tighten.
“Imma let ma calm down some, but I’ll be here.”
Riri nodded, already stepping down from the porch. She fished a blunt from her pocket, lit it, and turned. "I’ll see you later, then?"
You hesitated, then: "Ri—"
She turned fast, eyes scanning you like something might be wrong. "Yeah, doll?"
You jogged down the steps, heart thudding—not from the run.
Her eyes dropped. She saw it. Saw the way your chest moved. Saw everything.
The blunt rested between her teeth, balancing on her pretty brown lips, when you plucked it from her. Placing it in your mouth instead, you mumbled, “Light it.”
She shook her head, but obeyed. “Quit giving your mama a hard time.”
Your eyes rolled as you inhaled, willing the smoke to fill your mouth, then your lungs. Riri stood by, watching your fluid movements like she was drawn to them. You puckered your lips and blew your residual smoke right into her face. She didn’t flinch. Just smiled. That stupid, sweet little smirk that sent shivers down your spine.
Her eyes locked on your mouth for a beat too long before she finally turned away.
No goodbyes. Just silence.
You both went in opposite directions—her swaggering off into the twilight, you back toward the porch with the blunt tucked between your lips, just like she always wore it.
You curled up in one of the rocking chairs on the porch, not daring to go back inside until the scent of marijuana on you was washed away by the wind. The daytime hue crept away as night crawled in. One by one, the streetlights flickered on, and the world softened.
It had been a while since you heard your mother stomping about the house; long enough to assume she’d gone to bed. You rose, stretched, crept to the front door, and silently prayed it wasn’t locked.
It clicked open easily. You whispered a quiet "Thank you" and slipped inside, up the stairs, to the one place that still felt like yours.
You had just shut the door, hand on the lock, when you heard it—a faint tapping on your window.
It slid open slowly.
And then, with the grace of a secret, a familiar figure slipped inside.
Riri didn’t say anything as she landed, just brushed off her pants and locked the window behind her like she’d done a hundred times before.
You didn’t speak either.
You just watched her. In your space, moving like she belonged.
She kicked off her shoes with one lazy push, letting them land wherever. Then she sat at the edge of your bed like it was her own, legs spread, elbows resting on her knees, head tilted as she studied you. That same unreadable look on her face, tension running through her body, leaving her rigid.
You leaned against your desk, arms crossed, heart thudding a little louder than you liked. The room was quiet except for the soft creak of your box fan oscillating in the corner and the hum of the streetlight buzzing through the curtains. Riri sat like she had all the time in the world, like your room was her room and you were the one visiting.
"Why you staring at me like that?" you asked, the words heavier than you meant them to be.
She raised one brow but didn’t answer right away. Just leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Like what?”
You shrugged, eyes dropping to your feet. “Cut the shit, Ri. What’s the problem?”
"Mm," she hummed, leaning back again, letting silence stretch between you. "Maybe I just don't like seeing you fight with your moms like that."
You scoffed, turning toward your desk to fidget with the loose cord of your lamp. "Then don’t come over."
A pause weighed all too heavily between the two of you.
"You want me to stop?"
You didn’t turn around, but your hands stilled.
She let the question hang there, testing the air like smoke.
When you finally turned to face her, Riri was still watching you, eyes soft now. No teasing. No smirk. Just her, open in a way that made your chest ache.
"No," you said quietly.
"Then quit saying dumb shit."
You walked toward her slowly, like you were approaching something delicate. She didn’t move. Just let you come closer until you were standing between her knees again. Her hands came up, settling on your waist like a habit.
“I’m tired,” you murmured, voice cracking on the edges.
“I know,” she said. “Come here.”
You climbed into her lap without hesitation this time, tucking your face into her neck like it was the only safe place in the world. Her arms wrapped around you, firm and sure, and for a second, you let yourself pretend the rest of it didn’t exist—school, your mama, Niq, the weight of trying to hold it all together.
Just her. Just you.
And when she turned to kiss you, it was deep and desperate, like she needed it to hold shit together just as badly as you did.
A sigh escaped from you, and Riri swallowed it without a second thought. These nights, these moments were the only thing that made the tough days worth it. Her hands crept up beneath your shirt, stopping just shy of your bra line.
She pulled away, much to your demise. You leaned into her, silently begging for her lips back on yours, groaning when she dodged your attempts with a lazy smile.
“C’mon, baby, this ain’t new to you.” Her hands left your skin, taking their warmth with them. “Tell me what you want,” she spoke lowly, propping her arms behind her to support her weight. Her command was lustful, sharing the feeling like a disease. Your stomach coiled.
“I want you to touch me, Ri,” you whined, grabbing at her hands in futile attempts.
“Where?” she asked, nipping your chin when you got close enough.
Annoyance growing, you yanked the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head and discarding it somewhere on the floor with Riri’s shoes. Your bra was just as easy to slip out of. The dainty pink piece dangled on the tip of your finger in front of Ri’s face before floating to the ground as well.
Your breasts sat pretty and perky, right under Riri’s nose. She was hypnotized by your dark areolas and the way your nipples were already pointing towards her mouth. The scent of you made her mouth water. She sat up, wanting to get closer, and you took the opportunity to contort her hands like a marionette.
You couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped when you placed one of her palms right on your breasts, just like she couldn’t help the way her hips bucked into you involuntarily. You spilled into her hand, filling it up properly, sinfully.
The other hand brushed against your naked abdomen so tenderly as it trailed towards the button of your jeans. She tapped at it absentmindedly, never taking her gaze away from the goosebumps sprouting across your bosom. “Take these off,” her order was whispered, but direct.
Now it was her turn to whine when your body left hers. Standing and ready to give her a show, Riri gazed up at you with literal hearts in her eyes, mesmerized, watching you spin until your back was to her and your hips were shimmying the pants down past them.
She watched as they pooled at your feet and you stepped out, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties. “These, too?” you questioned, fingers already tucked into the hem, ready to be rid of them. Riri nodded pathetically, having lost her voice at the sight of you.
Off came those, as well, and she barely gave you a moment to blink before her hands were on your waist. The way she threw you onto the bed was quick and rough, the frame creaking. She ignored your coos and open arms, bending instead to pick your panties up off the floor. Bringing them up to her face, she inhaled deep, filling her lungs with you. The thin lace disappeared into her pocket with a dark smirk. “My trophy.” Her look at you was drool-worthy, and the coil in your stomach wound tighter.
“Nasty girl,” you hummed to her, watching as she stalked to you. Like an animal. Predator to prey.
“Baby, I’m not nasty,” her hands wrapped around your ankles, tugging you to the edge of the mattress. You were foldedin half as she bent at the waist, stuffing her face in your cunt. Her nose brushed too lightly against your tender clit, holding on tighter as you twitched beneath her. “I’m grown.”
Her tongue lapped you, from slit to clit, flat and wide. Just once, and then her puckered lips were blowing cool air onto your wetness. Your whines were soft and low, much too quiet for Riri’s liking. “You must want me to stop.” She licked you again, slowly, placing a kiss to your clit when she reached it. “I know you can be louder than that, baby.”
She was lapping at you like one would an ice cream cone. “I know your mama’s home-” she conversed with herself, your brain having turned to mush. “I’ll make sure ma don’t hear us.” Her lips closed around your clit, sucking lightly. Your hips lifted from the bed, trying to push your cunt further into her face, needy and begging. Ri held you down like you weighed nothing, hands pressed to the parts of you where pelvis connected with thigh. “I just wanna hear you a lil bit,” she spoke again, lulling her tongue to rub tight circles over your bud.
Moans caught in your throat, not good enough for Ri. Her fingers dragged across your skin, reaching the wetness on your thighs before teasing your puffy lips. Her nails dragged against you, watching you clench around nothing while her tongue still worked. “I can make you scream, y/n.”
Your eyes widened in horror, one that was quickly washed away by pleasure as her fingers toyed with your entrance. “That what you want, doll? Want the whole neighborhood hearing you scream my name?” She thrust into you, two fingers deep. You moaned, deep and guttural, but still too quiet for the prideful girl digging you out.
Your pussy fluttered around her, squeezing tight and pulling her in. “Louder for me, baby.” Her fingers scissored inside of you, curving to hit that squishy part and pulling away, before thrusting back into it. “How I’m ‘pose to know I’m doing a good job if I can’t hear you?”
She kept one hand thrown across your pelvis, in a lazy attempt to keep you glued to the bed. As strong as she was, the way she was fucking you lifted your body like you were possessed. Riri curved her fingers even further, digging into you. You could feel the pressure building, the way you felt like a too-tight rubber band about to pop.
She could feel you clenching around her fingers, so tight, she could barely move. “Shit, baby, I wish I could feel you like this on my cock.” Her nasty words hit you straight in the cunt, splashing around her further. “I’d be in this shit every fucking night.” Ri was hovering over you now, her movements not slowing. “Pumping you full,” she described, hips thrusting, pushing her digits into you. “You’d walk out this house with a belly full of me.”
Your head lifted, watching the place where you and Riri were connected. The sight was a filthy one. Her crotch sported a wet spot that could only be explained away by the way you were leaking onto her. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead, and she glowed beneath the artificial yellow light coming from the streetlight through your window.
You were a beautiful, bumbling mess beneath her. Breasts bouncing, stomach wet with sweat and your own juices. You looked downright pornographic.
“Fuck, Ri,” you gasped. Bottom lip tucked between your rows of teeth, you bit down so hard you were afraid it would bleed. “Fuck, fuck me,” you choked out.
So vocal, so vulgar, but still, too quiet.
The pumping into your cunt stopped, but only for a moment. Long enough to send a lustful groan from between your lips. Your gummy walls stretched as Riri added a third finger, resuming her staggering movements. “There you go, baby, that was almost loud enough.”
One hand cupping your breast, the other scratching at Riri’s wrist. “Nuh-” you tried, but the words were sloppy, almost as sloppy as your pretty pussy. “Too much, Ri!” You sounded like a habitual drunk, slurred and slack.
“No, it's not.”
You nodded fast. “Is-it is!” You cried, uncaring of how shrill you were becoming.
“You can take it.” She thrusted harder, deeper, fingertips drumming against your cervix.
“Ri, please-”
“You can take it because I said so, baby. Take what I give you.” She growled at you.
“Ri,” you dragged out the last syllable in her name, singing it as your pussy tightened, contracting. Your orgasm came fast and without warning. Riri’s come covered hand was quick to seal your mouth, muffling what remained.
She saw the way your eyes darkened, ready to lash out at her. You were silenced by her slick fingers forcing their way between your lips. “I know, I know, too loud. My bad.”
You bit down on her hand, earning a small slap to your cheek. “Clean me up,” she shoved her wet fingers back into your mouth, pulling forth a gag from the back of your throat. “Good girl,” she praised, noticing the way your legs clenched together at her words. “Clean yourself off me.”
And you did, hollowing your cheeks to suck yourself from her fingers, licking inbetween each of them with your eyes locked on hers. “Nasty girl,” she whispered, unable to look away.
“Not nasty,” you released her fingers with a pop, planting a kiss on her palm before pulling away. “Just grown.”
Riri's hand traced slow, absent-minded circles against your lower back, the two of you tangled together in the glow of your nightlight. Her heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek, but yours had started to trip.
You spoke without lifting your head. “You ever gonna tell her?”
Her fingers paused for half a second. Just long enough.
“Niq?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Longer this time. You could almost hear her thinking, feel the tension slip into her muscles.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. Soft. Like the words might bruise. This wasn’t the first time you two had tried having this conversation; you’d just hoped the answer had changed this time.
You sat up just enough to see her face. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean, I don’t know, baby,” She sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s not like I planned for this to happen. I was supposed to watch out for her little sister, not fuck her little sister! Not fall for her-”
You laughed, bitter and low. “You planned to sneak through my window every night?”
“No,” she snapped, sitting up straighter. “I planned to look out for you. That’s it. Be your big sister’s responsible friend. That was the job.”
“But that’s not what this is.”
Her eyes met yours, jaw tight. “No. It’s not.”
"So, what—this whole thing just stays in the dark forever?" You gestured vaguely between you two. “You get to touch me like this, hold me like this, but I gotta pretend we’re just cool every time Niq calls? Every time I say your name around her, I gotta pretend I don’t feel anything? You fuck me at night, go about your business during the day? I don’t get to take pictures of us, we can’t go on dates-”
“Don’t do that,” she warned, her voice suddenly sharp beneath the darkness. “Don’t act like this is just that easy for me.”
“I’m not,” you snapped back. “I’m saying I’m tired of acting like it's not what it is.”
Silence again.
She leaned back on her palms, eyes flicking to the ceiling like it might hand her an answer. “You know she’d lose her shit if she found out. That we been doing this behind her back, lying to her and shit.”
“And what?” you challenged. “You scared she won’t fuck with you anymore?”
Riri didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.
You saw it in her face.
You deflated, more hurt than angry now. “Damn. So that’s what this is.”
“She’s my best friend, y/n. My first friend in a long ass time,” Riri said quietly. “I can’t just throw that away.”
Your mouth opened, then closed. The words caught in your throat like smoke.
Riri sat up, reaching for your hand, but you pulled it away before she could touch you. She flinched, barely, but enough.
“I’m not asking you to throw that away,” you said. “I’m just asking you to stop hiding me. I’m grown, remember? Niq can handle finding out about us.”
The room felt heavier than it should’ve. Your chest ached in that familiar, dull way—like disappointment had taken up permanent residence.
She reached for you again, slower this time. “You know I care about you, right?”
You looked at her, eyes burning. “Then act like it. Love me out loud, Riri,” you challenged.
And for once, she didn’t have a clever answer.
Your gaze bounced around her face, studying it for some type of reaction, as hers did the same to you. Every glance you shared was cloaked in the kind of silence that spoke louder than any confession, a secret only you understood.
The silence had stretched so long, it didn’t even feel like silence anymore. It felt like its own thing—loud, alive, sitting between you like a wall you hadn’t built but somehow helped keep up.
You rolled over, turning your back to her. A coward’s move, sure, but you didn’t want her to see your face break.
Behind you, Riri shifted. The bed creaked, and for a moment, you thought she might leave—slip out the window like she always did, disappearing before either of you had to deal with the mess.
But then she spoke, voice low, wrecked.
“I hate this shit.”
You stilled.
“I hate feeling like I gotta choose between wanting you and keeping my friendship with her.”
You turned just enough to glance over your shoulder. “Who said it has to be a choice?”
“She didn’t,” Riri admitted, laughing bitterly. “But she will. You know Niq. She’s not gonna just roll with this like it’s cool. She’s gonna feel betrayed. We betrayed her, baby.”
You sat up, tugging the blanket around your naked chest. “Then what? We keep sneaking around forever? I’m your dirty little secret until she moves back and this whole thing blows up in our faces?”
Riri stared at the ceiling again, jaw clenched, before reaching your glare and shaking her head. “Nah, baby. You’re so much more than a dirty little secret. You don’t deserve that. Don’t deserve this.”
You blinked. “What?”
“This.” She waved a hand between you. “Being with someone who can’t give you everything you need and more without shit falling apart.”
Your throat burned. “So what—this is it? That’s your answer?”
She didn’t say anything. Just let the weight of it hang between you.
That was the moment it cracked. Not in some dramatic, yelling kind of way—but quiet, and devastating. Heartbreaking
“I’m not gonna beg you to choose me,” you whispered, giving up. Your voice didn’t even sound like yours.
Riri’s eyes finally met yours. And for once, they looked scared.
Not angry. Not stoic.
Just scared.
You slid off the bed, heading to your closet to grab an oversized sleep shirt. Without bothering to look back, you added, “I love you, Ri.”
The words landed like a punch.
You didn’t wait for her to say it back. You didn’t even expect her to. You just needed her to know.
Because if she wasn’t gonna fight for this, then at least one of you had to be brave enough to say what it really was.
You slipped out the door towards your bathroom, leaving her in the darkness with silence, and all the pieces of what you could’ve been.
bang chan x reader | silver chain. pouty moans. and the lesson he teaches you when you act up.
🔞synopsis: he comes home from tour. you pout, you ignore his texts, you act up—because you want him mean. he keeps the chain on. and when you bite it? he folds you in half, fucks you dumb, and doesn’t let you cum until you’re crying, drooling, and begging for the cock you’ve been bratting for. he ruins you. then holds you like you’re breakable. because you are—and you’re his favourite thing to break.
💌a/n: welcome to filth friday, sluts. 🧷this fic is dedicated to the chokehold that silver chains + pouty brattiness + missionary with a vengeance have on my brain. chan keeps the chain on. you bite it. he loses his mind. we all win.
p.s. reblogs = love. comments = spit in my mouth. tags = my new religion.
p.p.s. missionary is not vanilla when he growls in your ear and denies your orgasms
p.p.p.s. if you reblog this while still recovering? i see you. i respect you.
⚠️ warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY. minors do not pass go, do not collect the chain | explicit sexual content | dom!bang chan, soft menace energy, and a very smug mouth | sub!reader with brat tendencies that get corrected | jewellery kink (chain stays ON. you bite it. he breaks.) | missionary sex but feral — folded position, deep strokes, held down, no escape | denial / edging | cockdrunk reader | dirty talk, degradation + praise mix (“mine.” “good girl.” “you don’t get to cum yet.”) | aftercare | breeding kink tones | crying & tears of pleasure | pouty!reader energy (literally the reason this entire fic exists. pout responsibly.)
It’s not actually cold—you’re curled up on the couch in nothing but his oversized hoodie, bare legs tucked beneath you, a mug of tea half-drunk on the coffee table. But it’s the kind of cold that seeps under your skin when the bed’s too big, the silence too loud, and your vibrator’s not doing the fucking job.
Your phone buzzes again. You don’t look.
You already know it’s him.
You’ve been ignoring him all day—not completely, just... enough. Left him on read once or twice. Gave him one-word replies. Didn’t answer the FaceTime this morning, even though you’d woken up with your hand between your thighs, aching from a dream you couldn’t finish.
It’s not fair, you know that. He’s on tour. He’s busy. He’s doing everything right—checking in, calling, sending those stupid audio messages that make your stomach flip when he whispers, “Miss you, baby. So much.”
But you’re needy.
Touch-starved. Cramps in your hips from curling up in bed alone. Horny to the point of irrational.
And the worst part? You can see him. Online. Onstage. Living in your phone like some cruel ghost. There he is at rehearsal. Dripping in sweat, shirt half-off, silver chain swinging with every breath. There he is in a fan-captured clip, laughing, flexing, biting his lip while dancing to your favorite track like he’s not out here ruining your life. And now? Now he has the audacity to send a mirror selfie. In the fucking studio. With the chain. The bracelets. The goddamn veins.
You nearly throw your phone across the room.
Instead, you sink deeper into the couch, bite the sleeve of his hoodie, and scream into the fabric.
“Fucking menace,” you mumble against your wrist.
He didn’t do anything wrong. That makes it worse.
Because now, every time you shift your hips, every time you think about his hands pinning you down and that cold metal chain slapping your chest while he fucks you stupid—
You can’t breathe.
You glance at your phone.
Three new messages.
[CHAN]: baby
[CHAN]: don’t ignore me please
[CHAN]: did i do something? talk to me
Your lip wobbles. Goddammit.
No. No. You’re supposed to be mad. Not real mad. Just pouty. Irritated. Like a girl whose boyfriend hasn’t been around to wreck her properly in over two weeks.
You don’t want sweet texts.
You want teeth on your throat. Fingers in your mouth. You want him to press your legs up and fuck the attitude out of you until you’re crying and clinging to his stupid chain like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.
Your gaze flicks to the bedroom door.
Then to the drawer.
You reach for the vibrator. Pause. Throw it back in.
“Fuck it,” you whisper. “Not tonight.”
If he were here, you wouldn’t even need it. He’d just look at you, and you’d be done for.
You bury yourself deeper into the cushions, grumbling, annoyed with the world. The room smells like him. The hoodie smells like him. Your whole body aches from missing him—not emotionally. Physically. Raw, feral want.
So you ignore the phone again.
Because if he really misses you? Let him come get you. Let him walk through that door and make it up to you with his chain swinging and his hands on your throat. Let him see what happens when he makes a needy girl wait too long.
The keys hit the lock at 1:37AM.
You hear them before you see him—metal clinking, a shuffle, a low curse. You barely manage to mute the TV before the door swings open.
He’s here.
And he looks like sin.
Black hoodie half-zipped, chain glinting just above the collar. His damp hair is pushed back with one hand, the other dragging his suitcase inside. His duffel slumps to the floor. Then he sees you—curled on the couch, one leg bare, still in his hoodie, sleeves covering your hands.
For a second, he just stares. Then that mouth curves. “You’re still up.”
You shrug, trying to look casual. You are not casual. Your thighs are clenched under the throw blanket, and your heart’s pounding like you weren’t just imagining that exact chain slapping against your collarbone while he fucks you into the mattress.
“Barely,” you say, voice too innocent.
His gaze drops to your bare thighs. Then back to your face. “Didn’t answer my texts.”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
He huffs out a soft laugh. That cocky, knowing one. “Oh. It’s like that?”
You don’t reply. Just stretch with an exaggerated yawn, lifting your arms enough for the hem of his hoodie to ride up. No shorts. Just skin. His tongue runs across his bottom lip. The chain shifts with the way he breathes, catching the lamplight.
“Were you waiting for me?”
“Not really.”
“Mhm.” He drops his hoodie onto a chair. “So the blanket, the hoodie, and no pants—that’s just what you wear now?”
You narrow your eyes. “Why are you talking like that?”
“Like what?”
“All smug.”
He grins. Oh no.
He knows. Of course he knows.
“Baby,” he says, stepping closer. “You’ve been bratting out all week. You think I can’t tell?”
Your breath catches. Heat coils instantly in your gut.
“Didn’t say anything when I sent you that mirror pic. Left my voice note on read. Ignored the one where I said I wanted to fuck you through the floor.” He pauses. Tilts his head. “Nothing to say now either?”
You stare up at him. Slowly pull the blanket off your lap. “I missed you,” you admit, soft.
“I know,” he murmurs. “I missed you too.”
A pause. Then—
“I also know that pout’s not about feelings.”
“What’s it about, then?”
He’s standing over you now, hands on his hips, chain resting just beneath his throat. “It’s about the fact that you haven’t been fucked in two weeks.”
You look away. Cheeks hot. “And?”
“And you’re soaked just from seeing me walk in the door.”
You shoot him a glare, but it’s weak at best. He sees right through it. And worse? You see his jaw flex—barely—before he lets out a dark, low laugh.
“Get up.”
You blink. “What?”
“Up.”
You rise slowly, confused. He reaches forward and lifts the hoodie—his hoodie—up and off your body in one smooth motion. You shiver at the loss of warmth. Now you’re just standing there in panties and nothing else.
He steps back. Eyes dark. “You waited for me like this?”
You nod, shy now. “Wanted to be ready,” you mumble.
His lips part just slightly. His gaze drops, lingers on your hips, then snaps back up.
And then—
His hands are on your thighs, fast.
“Jump.”
You don’t think. You obey.
He catches you with ease, arms firm under your thighs, the chill of his bracelets biting into your skin. Your breath hitches as your legs wrap around his waist, chest flush against his. His chain presses cold between your breasts, and he’s not even trying to hide the way he grinds against your panties on instinct.
“You think I don’t know what that look means?” he murmurs, voice brushing hot against your cheek. “Little pout. Ignoring my calls like I wouldn’t drop everything to ruin you the second I walked through the door.”
You squirm against him, but he tightens his grip—just enough to pin your hips in place.
“Could’ve told me, baby,” he breathes, walking toward the bedroom. “Could’ve just said, ‘Chan, I’m wet and I miss your cock.’ I’d have flown home yesterday.”
He kicks the bedroom door open without a pause. Keeps walking until your back hits the mattress in a controlled drop. You bounce once, hair a mess, legs open, breathing ragged.
He stands at the edge of the bed, staring down at you like he’s starving.
Then he peels off the hoodie.
His shirt follows. Then the pants. He leaves the jewelry. Every bit of it. Rings, bracelets, and that fucking chain.
You swallow hard, mouth dry.
“Want me to take it off?” he teases, watching your eyes follow the chain.
You shake your head. “Keep it.”
“Oh yeah?”
You nod. Voice barely a whisper now. “Wanna see it dangling, wanna bite it.”
That does something to him. His jaw flexes. His cock twitches against the band of his briefs. “Fuck.” He climbs onto the bed like a man possessed. Cages you under him in one smooth motion, his hands planted firm beside your head, chain dangling just above your lips.
You glance up at him, pupils blown wide.
“Say it again.”
“I want to bite it.”
“While I’m inside you?”
“Yes.”
“While I’m ruining that little attitude?”
“Please.” You barely finish the word—“please”—before he’s kissing you like he’s making up for every second he’s been gone.
It’s not sweet. It’s hungry.
His mouth claims yours with a groan, hot and wet and open, tongue sliding past your lips like he already knows what you taste like. His chain swings between you, brushing your throat every time he shifts, a cold contrast to the heat pouring off his skin.
You moan into the kiss. He drinks it like oxygen.
Then he sinks down fully, settling between your thighs with the kind of weight that makes you feel pinned—owned. His cock presses hard against the soaked fabric of your panties, still trapped behind his briefs, but thick enough to make you gasp when he grinds down. “Fuck, baby,” he groans into your mouth. “You’ve been holding out on me. This pussy’s starving.”
Your back arches. You’re soaked, the wet patch obvious now—heat meeting heat as he rocks against you, slow and punishing, like he’s savoring every drag of his cock over your clit.
“Thought about this every night,” he whispers, dragging his mouth along your jaw. “This exact spot. These hips. The way you whimper when I press right… here—”
He thrusts just right. Your head falls back.
He kisses down your neck, slow and greedy. The cold metal of his chain follows, dragging like ice down your collarbone, between your breasts.
“Missed this fucking body,” he breathes, licking a stripe along your throat. “Missed the way you twitch for me. How you bite your lip to keep quiet.”
He grinds down again. And again. Until your hips start chasing his, until your nails dig into his back.
“Chan,” you pant, “I—I need—”
He shushes you with another kiss, deeper this time. He kisses you until you can’t think, until all you can do is cling to him, his chain brushing your lips like it wants to be bitten.
You’re pulsing through your panties. You know he feels it. You feel the smirk when he pulls back, just enough to look you in the eye.
“You gonna make a mess before I’m even inside?”
You glare. He chuckles darkly. “Go on then, baby. Rub that pretty cunt all over my cock. Show me how much you need it.”
You moan—needy, wrecked—and tilt your hips up into him, grinding against the thick ridge of him through both layers of fabric. “Fucking please,” you whimper. “Want you so bad.”
“You’ve got me,” he growls. “You have me.”
His hand slips between your bodies, pushing his briefs down just enough for his cock to spring free—hot, flushed, already leaking. He swears low under his breath.
“God, baby. Look what you do to me.”
Then he presses himself against your soaked panties again, bare cock against soaked fabric, and grinds. Slow. Deep. Purposeful.
“You feel that?” he grits. “You feel how hard I am for you?”
You nod frantically. “Yes, yes—Chan, please—”
“You want me to rip these off?” You can barely speak. “Or you wanna be good and ask nicely?”
You can barely speak.
Your whole body is tense—writhing beneath him, soaked and shaking and on the edge of sobbing for it. He sees it. Loves it. The way your breath catches. The way your thighs twitch around his waist. “C’mon, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek. “One sweet word, and I’ll give you everything.”
Your eyes flutter shut. “Please,” you whisper. “Take them off. Please, Chan—need you…”
That’s all it takes.
He groans softly, like the sound is pulled from deep in his chest, and finally—finally—hooks his fingers in the sides of your panties. He drags them down your legs like he’s unwrapping you. Not fast. Not greedy. Just slow, like he’s enjoying every second of you bare and spread beneath him. When they’re off, he kisses the inside of your thigh. Then higher. Then higher.
But he doesn’t go where you want. No. He climbs back up your body, and you think—thank God, he’s going to fuck me—But instead, his mouth goes to your chest.
“So fucking pretty,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours as he kisses just above your heart.
His hand palms one breast, thumb circling the nipple until it peaks under his touch. His mouth follows—hot, open, wet—and he sucks, slow and deep.
You gasp. He groans. The sound vibrates through your chest.
Then he pulls back just enough to nip—just a little—right over the mark he made. “That feel good, baby?”
You nod, breathless. “Y-Yeah—more—”
He moves to the other breast. Does the same. Tongue first. Then lips. Then teeth. Your back arches into him, hands twisting in the sheets. The chain dangles against your sternum, cold and perfect, catching in the valley between your tits as he worships you. “Could spend hours right here,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue across your nipple. “Could make you cum just from this.”
“Please,” you pant. “I need more—Chan, please, I—”
He hushes you again with a kiss.
Then he trails down. And down. And down. Mouth dragging over your stomach. Teeth grazing the curve of your waist. He settles between your thighs, breath warm and heavy against your dripping cunt.
But he doesn’t lick. Not yet.
“God, baby,” he groans, almost reverent. “You’re fucking soaked.”
You whimper. Try to lift your hips. He holds you down. “Be good,” he warns softly. “Be still.”
You try. You really do.
But then he spits—just a little—hot and slick onto your clit, and you jerk like you’ve been shocked. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, smirking as he leans in.
And then—then—he licks. One slow, torturous stripe up your cunt. Flat tongue. No mercy.
You moan, loud, thighs clamping around his head.
He groans into your pussy, pressing his mouth harder, licking deeper, like he’s starving. His chain dangles against your inner thigh now, cool and maddening with every pass.
And just when you start to build—just when your toes curl, your body tenses, and you’re right there—
He pulls back. “Nuh uh,” he says, voice thick and smug. “You don’t get to cum yet.”
You sob. He kisses your thigh, then blows softly on your wet, throbbing clit just to be cruel. “You’re gonna cum with me inside you,” he murmurs. “With this chain in your mouth, and my cock so deep you forget your own name.”
Your hips twitch. Your eyes roll back. He grins at the sight.
And his mouth returns to your cunt like a man addicted—like he’s missed this more than sleep, more than air, more than the stage itself. His tongue licks deeper now, deliberate, dragging slick through your folds and sucking gently at your clit like he knows exactly how much you can take.
“Fucking perfect,” he groans against you. “Tastes like you missed me.”
You cry out, hands flying to his hair, gripping tight. He lets you. For now. Then—
His fingers join the party.
Two of them, thick and slick, pressing at your entrance and sliding in with no resistance. Your walls clench instantly.
“Oh my God—Chan—!”
“Shhh. You’re fine.” He curls them. “You’re so fucking fine.”
His lips wrap around your clit again just as his fingers start thrusting—slow at first, then deeper, firmer, building rhythm. Every drag hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars.
You’re so close it’s shameful. Your hips roll into his face. Your moans are embarrassingly loud now. And just as you hit that edge—
He pulls away again. His mouth gone. Fingers stilled inside you.
“Wha—why—” you gasp, blinking through the haze.
He looks up from between your thighs. His lips are slick, his chin glistening, the chain glinting as he rises slightly, his fingers still buried to the knuckle in your fluttering pussy.
“Brats don’t get to cum without permission.”
You whimper. Physically ache. “Channie, please—”
“You gave me attitude. You ignored me. You made me wait.”
He slides his fingers out slowly, watching them glisten in the low light. You’re dripping. He presses them back in—just one knuckle—then pauses again. “Now you’ll wait.”
“I said sorry—”
“Did you mean it?”
“Yes—”
“Then you’ll be good.” His voice is soft, dangerous. “Keep those legs open. Take what I give you. And you don’t cum until I say.”
You nod frantically.
“Say it,” he demands, pushing his fingers in deep again.
“I won’t cum,” you gasp. “Not unless you say.”
“Good girl.”
And just like that—his mouth is back.
He fucks you with his fingers while he sucks your clit with precision. Every moan you make only spurs him on. He watches your body unravel, his chain swinging between your breasts with every jolt of pleasure.
You’re shaking again. So close it hurts. Your eyes roll back—your legs tremble—your whole body’s about to give out—
“Don’t,” he warns, pulling his mouth off just enough to speak. “Don’t even think about it.”
Your hips jerk. He curls his fingers and presses his tongue harder. “Not until I say.”
You’re crying now. Wrecked. Gutted. Desperate. And still, he doesn’t let you have it.
“That’s it,” he whispers, lips wet against your thigh. “You feel that? That’s what brats get.”
“Channie, please,” you sob. “I need it—I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll—”
“I know you will,” he coos.
Then he withdraws completely.
You scream.
“You’re gonna be so fucking good for me now,” he mutters, climbing back over you.
His cock, thick and flushed, brushes against your inner thigh. You’re slick enough he could slide right in. But he doesn’t. Not yet. He leans in, chain swinging.
“Open your mouth.”
You do. He places the chain between your lips. “Bite.”
You bite. The chain presses cold between your teeth, sharp metal on your tongue, a mouthful of him. Of ownership. Of need. You moan around it as he grips your thighs tighter, spreads them wider, and finally—finally—guides his cock to your soaked, twitching entrance.
“Look at that,” he breathes, staring down between your legs. “You’re begging for it.”
You are. Your pussy flutters, aching, empty for so long you can barely think. His tip nudges your entrance, hot and heavy and thick, and just the brush makes your whole body tense.
“Been saving this for you,” he murmurs, dragging his cock slowly through your folds. “Didn’t even jerk off on tour. You know how fucking hard that was?”
You whimper around the chain.
He grins. “Yeah, you do.”
Then—without warning—he pushes in. Just the head. You sob.
“Fuck, baby…” he groans. “So tight. So wet. You missed this cock, didn’t you?”
You nod frantically, teeth clenched on the chain. Your walls spasm around him, already trying to pull him deeper. And he gives it to you. Inch by inch. Stretching you slow, deliberate, merciless. You feel everything. Every vein. Every ridge. Every twitch and pulse.
By the time his hips finally press flush against yours, you’re shaking.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “Take it. Take all of it.”
He stills. Deep. Thick. Fucking perfect.
You can’t breathe. You can’t move. You’re so full it borders on painful, the burn and pressure delicious in its cruelty. He leans down over you, forearms braced beside your head. The chain swings, slipping from your perfect lips but brushing them.
You’re clenching around him—helpless, desperate—and he doesn’t move.
“That’s right,” he breathes. “Hold me. Grip me tight like that.”
He pulls halfway out. You sob. Then thrusts back in. Hard. And stills again. You’re drooling at this point, chest heaving, vision blurred.
“You think you can brat your way into getting fucked?” he growls, mouth brushing your ear. “You think this pussy deserves to cum yet?”
You shake your head. Tears well.
“That’s right. Not yet. Not fucking yet.”
Then he starts to move. Slow. Deep. Devastating.
His hips roll with purpose, like every stroke is a lesson, a punishment, a promise. His cock drags against every swollen nerve inside you, hitting that spot so precisely it almost feels cruel. And he doesn’t let up—not even a little.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans, voice thick. “You feel that? Feel how deep I am?”
You nod, barely. You’re breathless, moaning with every slow, relentless thrust.
“So fucking tight,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me like you don’t wanna let go.”
You don’t. You can’t. You’re gripping him like a vice, your legs trembling around his waist, the chain now hanging loose across your chest—dragging over your nipples every time he fucks into you just right.
He leans in, kisses your jaw, then your throat. His hips grind at the end of each thrust, pressing his cock even deeper, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
“This pussy’s mine,” he growls. “Say it.”
You gasp, voice wrecked. “It’s yours.”
“Say it again.”
“Yours—Channie—it’s yours—!”
His pace picks up. Not fast, but harder. More pressure. More control. He’s fucking you like he owns you—like he earned this. Like he waited two weeks for the chance to bury himself so deep in you, you’d never forget what it felt like to be full of him.
“That’s my girl,” he breathes, sweat dotting his temple. “My bratty little baby. Thought you could tease me, huh?”
You whine—shaking beneath him, overstimulated already, toes curling with every thick, slow stroke.
“Missed this cock so much,” he murmurs, voice rough as he licks the sweat from your neck. “Should’ve begged. Should’ve dropped to your knees the second I got home.”
He pulls out just slightly—just the tip—before slamming back in, hard.
You scream.
He does it again. And again.
Punishing. Precise.
“But no,” he growls. “You wanted to act up. So now? You get fucked how I say.”
Your hands claw at his back. Your nails leave marks. Your eyes roll back when he grabs your throat—not choking, just holding. Grounding. Possessive.
“You wanna cum, baby?”
You nod, crying now.
“You wanna fall apart all over my cock?”
You sob, “Please.”
He leans down. Mouth at your ear. Voice like a fucking curse. “Then earn it.”
He lets go of your throat, pulls your legs up higher around his hips, changes the angle—and fucks into you so deep you see white. Your hands shoot up, grabbing at his chain again. You yank it between your teeth, moaning around the metal like it’s your only lifeline.
“That’s it,” he growls. “Bite down. Be good. Take every inch.”
He’s fucking you hard now. Relentless. The bed slams against the wall, your cries muffled by the chain in your mouth, your body trembling under his. You don’t know where he ends and you begin. All you know is his voice, his cock, his chain, and how fucking close you are.
He knows it too.
Your body is a mess beneath him—shaking, leaking, barely holding on. Your mouth is full of chain and nothing else makes sense. You’re right there.
So he changes it up. Again.
Without warning, he pulls out—just for a second—and grabs your thighs.
You whimper in confusion, but he’s already moving.
He presses your legs together, tight, then lifts them up and folds them toward your chest, locking your thighs against him with one arm. The angle is obscene—your pussy now swollen, dripping, needy, completely exposed to him like a fucking feast.
He lines up again.
“Hold still.”
You can’t move anyway. He thrusts back in, all at once. You moan.
“Oh my god—”
“Yeah?” he growls, voice cracking. “That’s what you wanted?”
His arm flexes as he locks your legs to his chest, other hand gripping the headboard for leverage as he slams into you—deep, brutal, unforgiving.
Your mouth falls open. The chain slips from your lips, damp and clinking against your chest as your head tips back, jaw slack.
You’re drooling. Literally. You don’t even realize it. And still—still—he doesn’t let you cum. “You feel that?” he pants. “Hear how fucking wet you are?”
Slap slap slap—your pussy sounds obscene, slick gushing down your ass, pooling beneath you as he fucks into the tight, hot mess he’s made of you.
“You fucking live for this cock, don’t you?”
You nod, eyes rolled back, moaning like you’ve already cum three times.
“Say it,” he snaps, thrusts slamming into you. “Say you’re cockdrunk. Say you need it.”
You try.
Nothing comes out.
You’re babbling, lips trembling, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“What’s that, baby? Can’t talk?” he mocks, voice half-gone, fully feral. “Already gone and I haven’t even let you cum?”
His cock pulses inside you, thick and angry, twitching with the effort to hold back—but he doesn’t break. Not yet.
He wants you ruined.
He wants you begging.
“Not yet,” he growls. “You’re not there yet.”
You choke on a sob, head thrashing, arms reaching up to grab anything—his wrist, his chain, the sheets—but it’s not enough. The pressure in your gut is unbearable. Your cunt’s fluttering around him like you’re already mid-orgasm. You’re leaking down his balls, dripping from the stretch, absolutely wrecked.
And he loves it.
“You’ll cum,” he promises, fucking deeper, harder. “But not until you break. Not until you’re drooling and sobbing and begging for it with that pretty little voice I own.”
Your brain’s gone fuzzy.
Nothing left but heat and pressure and the sound of him—filthy, brutal, mercilessly deep. Your body isn’t even yours anymore. You’re limp in his hold, legs pressed together and pinned to his chest while his cock splits you open over and over, dragging against that spot inside you with every punishing thrust.
And you still haven’t cum. You can’t cum. Not until he says.
“Come on, baby,” he growls, his voice wrecked with effort. “Where’s that sweet little voice now?”
You sob, drooling down your chin, lips trembling around broken words that won’t form. “Nngh—Ch-Chan, I—please—”
“That’s it,” he moans. “Beg for it.”
Your hands claw uselessly at the sheets. “P-please,” you cry. “Please—I n-need—I can’t—Channie, please—your cock, I need it—need to cum—please—”
Your cunt clenches around him so hard it nearly makes him lose rhythm. He grunts, digging his fingers into your thighs, pace faltering just enough to grind deep before resuming that relentless rhythm.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he snarls. “Dripping all over me, baby. You’re gonna ruin the bed.”
“I-I don’t care—please, please—”
Your body twitches, helpless under him, tears leaking into your hairline, mouth open and glossy, his name the only thing you know how to say.
“Say what you are.”
“Wh—what?”
He thrusts hard, knocking the breath out of you. “Say what. You. Are.”
“I’m—fuck—I’m yours—I’m your fucktoy—I’m cockdrunk, I—”
“You’re what?”
“I’m cockdrunk, Channie—please—please let me cum—”
He slams into you so deep you nearly scream, chest arching into his grip, your vision flickering to white. “That’s right,” he moans, voice unravelling. “That’s my baby. All mine. This pussy—mine. Say it.”
“Yours—yours—yours—!”
“You wanna cum?”
“Please—”
“Then fucking do it.”
Your body shatters. It’s not even an orgasm—it’s a detonation. You clamp down around him, sobbing, your whole body convulsing as wave after wave crashes through you. You can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t even scream. All you can do is feel.
Feel him. Feel the stretch. Feel your pussy gush around his cock as you cum so hard it feels like it might kill you.
He doesn’t stop.
“That’s it,” he groans, fucking you through it. “Fucking soak me, baby—fuck—fuck—you’re milking my cock—”
Your mind’s gone. You’re nothing but a trembling, cockdrunk mess, tears and drool smeared across your face, still whispering “yours, yours, yours” under your breath like a prayer.
“Gonna cum inside you,” he pants, voice cracked and breaking. “Gonna fill you up—fuck—can I, baby?”
You nod frantically, eyes fluttering. “Give it to me—want it—want all of it—please—”
And then he breaks.
He fucks into you one last time—deep, desperate, final—and lets go with a raw, shuddering moan as he empties inside you, cock pulsing, hot cum spilling into your still-clenching pussy.
“Fuckfuckfuck—baby—”
He collapses over you, chain dragging across your chest, both of you soaked, panting, trembling messes.
And still…
You whisper, barely conscious, lips ghosting his ear: “Yours.”
Your body is done. You don’t even register the moment he pulls out—all you feel is the warmth spilling down your thighs, his cum leaking out slow and heavy as your pussy pulses in the aftermath.
You try to speak. Nothing comes out but a sigh and a tiny broken whimper.
He huffs a soft laugh above you, lips brushing your temple as he shifts just enough to kiss the corner of your mouth. You’re too wrecked to return it—eyes fluttering, fingers twitching in the sheets, hair a sweaty halo around your face.
“That’s what my pouty baby gets, huh?” he murmurs, voice low and too smug. “Act like a brat, get fucked stupid.”
You let out a soft, slurred noise.
He kisses you again—this time on your nose. Then your forehead. Then both cheeks. “You did so good for me,” he whispers, hand cupping your jaw. “Took it all like my perfect girl."
You blink up at him. Barely coherent. “Mmhnn…you’re…annoying.”
“Aww,” he coos, grin wide. “You sound so mad for someone who just came like her soul was leaving her body.”
“You ruined me.”
“Damn right I did.”
He kisses your lips, slow and deep, like he’s trying to pour himself back into you. His tongue licks into your mouth with lazy heat, but now it’s tender. Now it’s grounding. His chain is still resting against your skin. You reach up, weakly tug it.
“Still on,” you whisper.
“You earned it,” he says softly. “Might keep it on since you like it that much.”
Your thighs twitch. He notices. Of course he notices.
“Oh, now you’re getting greedy again?” he laughs, brushing your hair back from your face. “You’re leaking my cum and still trying to start something?”
You whine. He grins and kisses you quiet again. Then he finally shifts—gently—lifting your legs, helping you unfold from the wrecked, folded position. You hiss when your body relaxes, muscles trembling. He hushes you instantly. “I got you, baby. I got you.”
He eases you onto your side, tugs the blankets up, and disappears for just a moment.
You hear the faucet. The soft clink of a glass.
He returns with a warm towel, cleans you carefully—between your thighs, over your stomach, around the curve of your ass where the sheets are soaked. You flinch at first, but his touch is featherlight. Reverent.
“There she is,” he murmurs. “My messy, fucked-out girl.”
He kisses your knee.
“My perfect pouty baby.”
Then he tosses the towel aside, climbs into bed, and pulls you into his chest like he’s never letting go. You curl up instantly—limp, warm, safe. His arms wrap around your back, one hand stroking your spine. His lips stay near your temple.
You nuzzle in deeper. “Gonna sleep for a week,” you mumble.
“Gonna feed you first,” he murmurs. “Then let you sleep. Then fuck you again.”
“Chan—”
“What?” he grins. “My baby was hungry. I provided.”
“Provided a near-death experience.”
“You’re welcome.”
You laugh—weakly. He presses a kiss right over your pulse. “You okay?” he asks, quiet now. Real. “Too much?”
You shake your head against his chest. “Perfect.”
“Good. ‘Cause next time, I’m making you cum around my tongue five times before I even think about fucking you.”
Your breath catches. He just smirks.
“Sleep now, sweetheart,” he whispers, grinning against your hair. “You’ve earned it.” And you do—out like a light, drooling on his chest while he smirks like the menace he is.
Quintessence Writes @quintessencewrites - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
