Day 25 - Most Expensive Photocard
(This is a result of @astrayapple and me chatting about Chan’s thighs LOL)
The low buzz of the studio’s equipment faded beneath the heat simmering between the three of them. Han and Chan sat side by side in their chairs, the kind meant for long hours and late-night creativity, but tonight, they had a far different purpose.
Y/N knelt between them, the carpet soft against her knees, framed perfectly by their parted legs. Chan’s focus was split; his left hand moved deftly over the keyboard, adjusting levels and playing with the new song’s arrangement, while his right was buried in Y/N’s hair, guiding her with an easy, possessive grip. He barely looked down, but every subtle flex of his fingers set her pace, pulling her deeper onto his cock, then easing her back just enough to make her crave more.
She moaned around him, the sound swallowed by the music and the hum of the monitors. Every so often, Chan would pause his editing to let out a rough, approving, “Good girl,” before returning to the track, the contrast between his cool composure and his firm control making her ache. His thighs tensed on either side of her head, not trapping her, but reminding her she was right where he wanted her.
Next to them, Han watched, eyes dark, his own arousal obvious as he palmed himself through his jeans. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s cheek, his voice low and thick with heat. “You love the way he handles you, don’t you?” Han murmured, thumb stroking her lips when she surfaced for air. “Not even looking, but you’re still his.”
Y/N nodded, breathless, her lips slick and swollen. She let Chan guide her back down, savoring the weight of his hand on her head, the way his focus never really left her, even as he worked. Occasionally, he’d squeeze lightly, a gentle reminder to keep her mouth open, to take him deeper, to stay.
Han couldn’t wait any longer. He undid his jeans, freeing himself, and slid his chair just a bit closer. Chan’s hand loosened its grip, and Y/N turned, mouth eagerly wrapping around Han. Han hissed at the sensation, his hand tangling in her hair, his hips rolling up to meet her. “So fucking pretty like this, sweetheart,” he whispered, his praise a sinful melody. “You take us so well. Let us hear you.”
Y/N moaned, letting the vibration travel through Han. Behind her, Chan’s hand never left her head, fingers splayed in her hair. With his other hand, he continued to tweak the track, barely missing a beat. It made Y/N feel completely controlled, totally wanted her only job to please them, to take what they gave, to bask in their attention and praise.
After a while, Han’s breaths grew short, his words dissolving into broken groans as he spilled into her mouth. He stroked her jaw and tucked himself away, still watching, still hungry for the way she shivered at his praise.
Then Chan finally set his work aside. He tugged Y/N up, lifting her effortlessly and settling her in his lap, straddling his thick, sweatpant-covered thigh. The soft fabric pressed between her legs, and he bounced his thigh lightly, the friction making her gasp and clutch his shoulders. “Now, let’s see how much you want it,” he murmured, voice pure velvet as his hands steadied her hips. “Show me how desperate you are, baby.”
Han’s hands found her waist from behind, lips brushing her shoulder as he whispered more praise. Y/N moved, grinding down, Chan’s thigh flexing beneath her, Han’s mouth and hands driving her higher. The music faded away, replaced by their voices and her breathless moans, the three of them lost in the heat and hunger only they could create together.
Chan’s hands gripped Y/N’s hips, steadying her as she rocked on his thigh, the thick roll of his sweatpants pressing perfectly against the throbbing need between her legs. Every bounce sent a jolt of pleasure through her, the friction maddening, her breath coming in desperate, broken moans. His thigh flexed beneath her, muscles hard and unyielding, giving her exactly what she craved.
“Come on, baby,” Chan murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck, thumb stroking her fevered skin. “Make a mess for me. Let me see how much you wanted it.”
Y/N’s head fell forward, forehead pressing against his shoulder as she ground down harder, chasing that sharp, dizzying edge. Han’s hands were everywhere, stroking her arms, squeezing her waist, his lips pressed to the curve of her neck, whispering filth and praise in her ear. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take what you need. You’re perfect, so fucking perfect like this.”
The room spun around her, nothing but the heat of Chan’s body, the relentless pressure of his thigh, Han’s encouraging hands and words. She let go, pleasure crashing over her in hot, shuddering waves, her cries muffled against Chan’s shirt as she soaked his sweatpants, her body trembling in their grip.
Chan held her through it, his own breath ragged, cock straining with need, the sight and feel of Y/N coming undone for him too much to resist. He shifted beneath her, lifting her off his thigh and guiding her back down onto his cock, still slick and swollen from her mouth. The angle was perfect, her legs shaking as he filled her, his hands strong on her hips, holding her in place.
He fucked up into her slowly, savoring every gasp that left her lips, every flutter of her spent body around him. “You feel that?” he rasped, teeth dragging over her jaw. “So tight, so wet for me. My good girl.”
Han stroked her hair, watching the way Chan unraveled beneath her, both of them lost to the rhythm and the heat. Y/N clung to Chan’s shoulders, meeting his thrusts, wanting to give him everything, to be everything he needed.
It wasn’t long before Chan’s control snapped. With a shuddering groan, he pulled her down hard, burying himself deep as he came, spilling inside her, his hands shaking as he held her close. He pressed his forehead to hers, whispering her name, a string of praise and love slipping free with every breath.
For a long moment, the three of them stayed tangled together—sweaty, breathless, utterly spent. Han pressed kisses to Y/N’s shoulder and Chan’s cheek, his arms wrapped around them both, anchoring them in the afterglow.
Chan finally broke the silence, voice soft, full of affection and pride. “You were perfect for us. Always are.”
Y/N smiled, blissed out and sated, still perched in Chan’s lap, Han’s arms around her. In the quiet thrum of the studio, surrounded by their heat and praise, she knew she was exactly where she belonged.
(If you have seen the hot jester on Insta, this is the result LOL)
Moonlight washed over the tangled sheets of Prince Yeosang’s chambers, playing over bare skin and disheveled velvet. Y/N knelt astride Yeosang’s lap, her jester’s uniform open, bells jingling wildly as she rode him, hips rolling, hair tumbling into her face. Yeosang’s crown sat askew, his hands gripping her waist, guiding her movements, both of them drunk on the thrill of their secret.
They were so lost in each other that the creak of the chamber door barely registered until it swung wide and a gasp split the air. Y/N froze, mouth parted around a moan, as Sir Seonghwa appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and breath caught in his throat at the sight: his prince buried inside the jester, their bodies slick and trembling with need.
For a heartbeat, shame and hunger warred on Seonghwa’s face. But Yeosang’s gaze met his, dark and commanding, his voice rough: “Don’t just stand there, Seonghwa. Close the door and come here.”
Y/N’s pulse thudded in her ears as Seonghwa obeyed. He set his sword aside, his armor clinking to the floor, stripping down to bare, eager skin as he approached the bed. He knelt beside them, his hand trembling as he tucked a strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, lips brushing her temple. “Are you sure?” he murmured, voice deep and reverent.
Y/N turned, grabbing his hand and guiding it to her breast, her own mouth hot on his. “Yes, Seonghwa. Please…”
He kissed her gentle at first, then greedy as Yeosang thrust up into her, making her gasp into Seonghwa’s mouth. Seonghwa’s hands were everywhere: stroking her thighs, squeezing her ass, pinching her nipples through the open tunic. Yeosang’s grip tightened on her hips, the prince’s voice a low growl in her ear: “Let our knight taste you, love.”
With Yeosang still inside her, Seonghwa knelt between Y/N’s trembling thighs. He licked a hot, wet stripe up her center, tongue swirling around her clit as Yeosang rocked her back onto his cock. She cried out, the bells on her costume jingling in frantic rhythm as Seonghwa devoured her, one hand gripping her thigh, the other reaching up to twist her nipple.
Yeosang leaned back, watching with a lazy, hungry smile as his knight licked and sucked the jester to shuddering, gasping release, her thighs clamping around Seonghwa’s head as she came with a sob. Seonghwa didn’t let up, licking her through the aftershocks as Yeosang fucked her slow and deep, the sounds of wet heat and moans filling the air.
When Y/N was boneless and trembling, Yeosang pulled out. Seonghwa rose, his cock flushed and leaking, and Yeosang guided Y/N onto her hands and knees, bells jangling. Seonghwa slid into her from behind with a low groan, filling her with one firm thrust, while Yeosang knelt before her, guiding his cock to her lips.
“Take us both, darling,” Yeosang commanded, voice thick. Y/N moaned, mouth stretched around Yeosang as Seonghwa fucked her from behind, the knight’s hands gripping her hips, his thrusts hard and relentless.
She was lost in sensation: the taste of Yeosang, the relentless pressure of Seonghwa filling her, the heat of their hands and mouths roaming her flushed skin, the frantic sound of her bells echoing off the stone walls. The two men murmured praise and filth in equal measure, their voices tangled with her desperate cries.
Seonghwa’s hand reached around to rub her clit, fingers fast and rough. “You’re perfect,” he panted, “so fucking perfect for us.” Yeosang’s hand tangled in her hair, holding her steady as she sucked him, his own hips stuttering as he neared the edge.
Y/N came undone, sobbing around Yeosang’s cock as pleasure ripped through her, her body shaking between them. Yeosang spilled in her mouth, groaning her name, while Seonghwa thrust deep and shuddered, filling her with his release.
They collapsed together on the tangled sheets, sweat-slicked and out of breath, Yeosang’s crown hanging off the edge of the bed, Seonghwa’s armor forgotten, and the jester’s bells ringing soft as a secret in the dark.
Taglist: @lilyxii , @thepoeticpurplepotato , @jinsankitten , @jai-lynne-unknown , @mirandamotionless , @d3kstar , @wolfhallows4
