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➥ Contains: Chris the girl dad causing simultaneous ovary explosions everywhere all around the world, Missha debut, "That's not very nice", Bang twins as roastmasters, Chrissha origin story
➥ The news of the hot guy moving into 1546 Ocean Drive takes the entire neighborhood by storm. While you're not indifferent to his impossibly good looks, you would have appreciated a heads-up that he would also be moving into your life.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙼𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝙸𝚗
Super chill Saturday morning in progress on the quiet, pine-lined street. Sun shining, birds chirping, squirrels squirreling…
And a tortoiseshell cat stalking them by the kitchen window like a sharpshooter.
“They know you don’t intend to be friends with them, Missha,” you picked up the sassmeister and gently spanked her fluffy thighs, guiding her towards the very heated Call of Whatever game taking place in the living room. “Look, there are many eligible bachelors for you over there!”
The super chill part was a massive understatement, of course. When Ryder started high school, you had invited his friends over for breakfast one time, and three years later, Saturday Pancakes was still going strong with the exact same set of kids. No, sir, you were NOT going to acknowledge these rascals were about to be of age in the eyes of the law very soon. They were teething just yesterday, when the FUCK did they even start applying to colleges?
Somebody make time stop ASAP.
“Oh, shit!”
“RYDER, LANGUAGE!!!” you growled, pointing the detergent-covered spatula at him.
When you had ‘the talk’ with your son, your first words were basically threatening to disown him if he got a girl pregnant at least before college graduation. While your parents did not approve of the emotional blackmail with their snotty tsks, you were hellbent on not having some girl live through the same fate you did. No one was ever ready for the responsibility of a child at such a young age. What responsibility when you’re a child yourself? Of course it wouldn’t work out if you got married just because you gave birth out of wedlock.
Nevertheless, life had a way of making up for what seemed like the biggest fuckups at the time. You’d been blessed with a wonderful boy who might have matured a bit too early. Although it used to give you the worst case of cuteness aggression when he said stuff like “I’m the man of the house,” he was still eight when he first said that. Ten years later, however, nothing much had changed, really. Still a menace. Still so protective of you. Still your reason to live. On his way to becoming a wonderful man.
“NOPE, no becoming a man till you’re 30, brat, sit your ass down,” you mumbled under your breath, scrubbing the spatula harder like it offended your entire lineage.
You would have loved to share your heart with one more person, of course, but you were getting a bit sick of your blind dates’ reaction to your motherhood. As if you were telling them you had a litter of eight. It wasn’t like you had a vast selection to pick from in a town as small as this, either. Anyone would eventually give up, and so did you, not that you were dying to trap someone in the first place. Your nuclear family of two finally expanded when you adopted Missha five years ago, and that was pretty much your life now. Uneventful, definitely chaotic, but at least happy.
Genuinely happy.
You heard some commotion outside, growing even louder than the one in your living room. So much so that even the boys hit pause on their excessively stressful digital warfare and crowded the kitchen window.
“What the hell is happening over there?” you lowered your head to get a better view.
There was a moving van parked by the house across the street, which had been on the market since January. A man was standing at the front door, talking to a small crowd made up of the entire single population of the neighborhood as well as a few moms. They were trampling each other to welcome this extremely good-looking new resident, and he was politely nodding at each of them, though slightly scared.
“Noooice, Khaleesi, you finally got your match,” Trevor smirked once he spotted the man among the trees. “We approve.”
“Who the fu—?”
You shot an instant death glare at Ryder, your eyes psychotically widened.
“Fine, I’ll keep it PG,” he sighed. “Who the heck are you to approve, my guy?”
“What? She’s our mom, too.”
“I think the goshdarn not!”
“It doesn’t have the intended effect when you have the kids mode on, FYI,” Trevor patted Ryder’s back, then turned to you with the most up-to-no-good smile he could flash. “Go say hi.”
“EW, NO!” you immediately protested.
“Why the goshdarn not?!”
Because that would be desperate? Even you were judging the crowd about to swoon at that doorstep; who the fuck knows what people would think of you if they saw you among those groupies. Christ!
“It’s not something you can understand unless you’re a divorced woman, little man,” you pointed your Saturday regulars in the direction of their duffel bags. “Go get your butts ready. I’ll drive you to practice.”
Twelfth time that day…
Chris was going to have to replace the front door at this rate because people have been knocking on it all day to introduce themselves. With no regard to decorum, at that. Yes, it was hell degrees outside, and his personal uniforms consisted of tank tops and shorts, too. Nevertheless, with kids living under this roof, it was hard not to get uncomfortable when complete strangers showed up at his doorstep in nothing but swimwear, so revealing that they might as well have been naked.
“Daddy, it’s Singing Giraffe time!”
Two girls clung to their father’s legs as he was in the middle of getting acquainted with yet another neighbor.
“Oh, you have… kids,” the blonde who looked like the latest Playboy centerfold grimaced. “Is their mother home? I’d like to say hi.”
Smooth, Chris internally scoffed while the twins glared at the woman. Before he could produce an answer, however…
“Why? Are you going to ask us to go away because we don’t have a mom?” Harper hijacked the mic.
“Girls!”
“Oh, it’s alright! Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?” the clearly early-twenty-something laughed way too loudly. “So you’re… single, huh?”
“Daddy, what does single mean?” Piper looked up with gigantic eyes.
“It means go upstairs and get ready for bed,” Chris led his girls inside. “Say bye to Lisa.”
“Bye, Lisa,” they deadpanned in unison, and Piper added with no sense of self-control.
“Your boobies are out, Lisa. That’s not very nice.”
Chris was absolutely mortified, and if the ground had any plans of splitting open and swallowing him whole, right now would be ideal.
“I am… so sorry,” he bowed his head in embarrassment.
“It’s fine. Really,” Lisa giggled, subtly touching Chris’s arm. “I’ll see you around then, Daddy.”
Yup, Chris might have been guilty of enjoying a certain address back in his glory days, but ever since the day he learned he was going to be a father, it was now just… Well, it was no longer something he wanted to hear from girls barely above the legal drinking age. He mustered his very last drop of energy to drag himself to the twins’ room, but before he could take two steps, he heard yet another knock behind him.
“I swear to fucking GOD I’m getting a ‘Closed’ sign tomorrow,” he marched back to the front door and harshly opened it. “WHAT?!”
“Chill, man. I was just going to ask if you’ve seen a cat around,” a boy in his late teens stared him down, then gestured something like a rock in the air. “A small tortie, about this big, yellow collar around her neck?”
“Oh, I’m… so sorry, I thought you were… No, I haven’t seen any cats around, unfortunately,” he shook his head. “I’ll be on the lookout.”
“Thanks,” the boy bolted as quickly as he had appeared.
Instead of going inside, Chris heaved a deep sigh and walked out, plopping on the porch swing for a moment’s peace. What a day. Yes, he had chosen this town himself because he’d heard great things about its people, but he certainly wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome. He couldn’t even get to unpacking, let alone finishing it.
The pine-lined street was finally calm. He was trying his best to resist the lullaby of crickets chirping and waves crashing in the distance, but when the warm night breeze started rocking him to sleep, he just gave in. Just five minutes. But he needed to put the girls to bed first. But five minutes. No, he needed to get up right now. But five—
“OW!”
A phantom punch in his stomach made him cough his lungs out. Ready to knock down some raccoon that manifested out of thin air, Chris immediately assumed a fighting stance. Well, at least he tried to, but that sleep paralysis demon weight wouldn’t budge an inch, sinking its claws deeper into his favorite sleeveless shirt to stay in place.
A cat.
“Oh, wow, you’re beautiful,” he scratched under her chin, “even though you scared the bejesus out of me just now.”
When he turned the collar charm around, he saw a phone number engraved in there with a little message that said ‘I’m lost. Please call.’
“Smart. Maybe I should get one of these for my girls, too, yeah?” he giggled to himself and sat up.
The cat got super comfortable in her new location, kneaded some biscuits, and curled up into a croissant to sleep. Fondly smiling at the little furball, Chris spent quite a while petting her. He couldn’t help but wonder if this marble cake was sent by some divine power because it seemed to have some freakish healing powers. The more she happily purred in his lap, the more he felt this block of lead weighing him down for years on end…
…shrinking.
“HARPER! DADDY GOT A CAT!”
The scream of severe cuteness aggression startled the new couple on the swing to death, effectively concluding the peace-and-quiet time. As the cat tried to hide away inside his shirt, Chris very carefully pulled her out, earning himself a few scratches as souvenir tattoos.
“Shh, easy,” he pacified his girls. “She’s not ours, baby. Be very, very gentle, okay?”
As the twins were petting the cat like they were entrusted with delicate china, Chris reached for his phone and dialed the number on the collar, admittedly a bit reluctantly.
“Hi, is this the human of… Missha?”
The window between returning from your carpool duties and Ryder coming home like a miniature Hulk was all the time you had to tend to work affairs on Saturdays. The stampede danger was finally eliminated with the crowd dispersed. You could hear yourself think again.
“Oh my god, like, you’re so cuuute! Is your dad home?”
Why would you jinx yourself like that? Just why?
You looked through the kitchen window to spot the source of the shriek that disturbed Missha. Someone was calling on your new neighbor again, but instead of him, there were twin girls at the door, looking visibly annoyed.
“Yes,” the one in sun-patterned pajamas answered, though with the exasperation of a woman who had been through five divorces.
“Can I see him?”
“No.”
“But why not?”
“You’re a stranger.”
“My name is Lisa. Now can I see your dad?”
“Girl, you just do not get father-infant daughter relationships at all, do you?” you contorted your face in cringe, sipping on the coffee you had started brewing before leaving home.
“You don’t even know our names!” the one in the moon-patterned pajamas yelled this time.
“Okay, what are your names then?”
“Daddy says plastic is harmful. You can’t come in.”
SLAM!
“Jesus christ, is that what he teaches these girls?!” you tsked to yourself, then settled down at the kitchen table to get to work.
You thought you had a solid few hours to complete the day’s checklist, but alas… You could recall blinking at some point, then all of a sudden, it was nighttime. If it weren’t for Ryder’s majestic entrance, you weren’t even going to realize it was dinner time already.
“Hey, Mom! I’m hitting the shower. I’ll be right down,” he stormed in and immediately dashed towards the stairs.
“Ryder, door first,” you called out to him to close it, your eyes still on the screen.
But no clank was heard.
“Ryder!”
Not a peep.
“I swear to fucking god. Every time,” you grunted to yourself and closed the door on His Majesty’s behalf. Considering the immense pain right below your right shoulder blade, it was probably time you called it a day anyway.
Per the commandments of your household, the cuntress had to have her meals first. You refilled Missha’s bowl, which she could normally hear from ten miles away and teleport herself to the kitchen, but the entire house was completely still. You scoured each room, looked inside all the cracks large enough for her to pour herself through, but…
“RYDER, GET DOWN HERE! MISSHA’S GONE!!!”
You took the left side of the street while he took the right, but the door-to-door search yielded no results. Damn this girl’s camouflage coat that made her blend into any backdrop. You started to freak out even harder when you returned home empty-handed. It was dark out; who knows what the hell kind of wild animals were out there. The street wasn’t super well-lit, either. What if a passing car didn’t have its headlights on?
“What’s the protocol for lost cats? DO WE CALL THE POLICE?!” you started frantically pacing in the kitchen.
“First, we calm down,” Ryder held your shoulders and sat you down on a chair. “I’ll go grab my computer, and we’ll look into this, okay? I promise we’ll find her.”
You were taking deep breaths, which, apparently, was a total bullshit recommendation being perpetuated. It had zero impact on calming you down. Your hands were still trembling, and you were nervously shaking your legs under the table.
You almost knocked over the entire table when you lunged at your phone to pick up the call from an unknown number.
“Hi, is this the human of… Missha?”
“YES!” you screamed, already grabbing your car keys and heading out. “Could you give me your address, please? I’ll be right over.”
“Uh… I was going to offer to bring her home, but sure,” the man on the phone answered. “1546 Ocean Drive.”
You stopped dead in your tracks, then slowly turned around to look at your door with 1545 written next to it. When you narrowed your eyes and stared into the darkness, the only thing you could make out was some white shirt of sorts thanks to the streetlights ricocheting off of it.
“Are you the dude on the porch right now?”
He turned to his left to spot someone on the phone and eventually saw you standing by the front door.
“Oh, hi!” he waved at you as a makeshift location pin. “Yes, I w—”
You immediately hung up and booked it towards the white shirt guy. The approaching stomps were growing so loud that even Missha’s fur was standing on end out of fear.
“THERE YOU ARE!” you hugged the crap out of the poor animal. “You scared the bejesus out of me. Don’t run away like that again!”
The man looked at you with something akin to surprise in his eyes, then flashed a bright smile.
“I am so sorry. She gets really feisty when she’s stressed. I hope she didn’t scratch too deep,” you addressed your lord and savior at long last.
“Feisty?” he cocked a brow. “She’s been sleeping on my lap the whole time.”
“Girl, did you have something against me all along?” you gasped at Missha’s betrayal.
“Can’t we please keep her, Daddy?”
Only then did you realize that you weren’t alone on that porch. The twins, and frankly the best roastmasters you’d ever seen, were pulling on their father’s hands, with eyes so huge that you had half a mind to offer joint custody to these girls.
“They’ve been begging for a cat forever,” he scratched his nape.
“But she’s my little girl,” you kneeled at their eye level. “You would be very sad if someone took away your daddy, too, right?”
They nodded in unison, still pouting.
“What are your names?” you asked with a smile.
They looked at their father for permission. When they received the approving nod, they graced you with an answer.
“I’m Piper.”
“I’m Harper.”
“Nice to meet you, Piper and Harper. I’m Missha’s mom,” you shook each of their tiny hands.
“Are you a teacher, too, Missha’s mom?”
“I own a bookstore,” you replied. “Do you like books?”
“Daddy reads Singing Giraffe to us every night.”
“Daddy might need an update on his repertoire,” you looked him up and down, then pointed at your house. “Tell you what. If your dad gives permission, would you like to be Missha’s new friends?”
“PLEASE DADDY, CAN WE?!”
“Only if I can be her friend, too. I mean, we already got a situationship going on, so…” the man set forth his sole condition. “But NOT if you don’t go to bed right now!”
“Good night, Missha’s mom!” the twins bolted inside right away.
You waved them goodbye, unable to control your endeared laughter. They reminded you of the day you learned Ryder’s gender all of a sudden. If the doctor said ‘It’s a girl’ then, would this be your reality by any chance?
“Welcome to the neighborhood, by the way,” you extended your hand to the man still staring at you with a smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t drop by earlier. Your front porch was like a meet and greet.”
“Chris,” he warmly shook your hand. “I apologize for the scene. The neighborhood is a little… friendly.”
“What an interesting spelling for DILF hunter,” you uttered with a completely straight face. Even though he burst out laughing, he seemed a bit flustered.
“Is it… that obvious that I’m single?”
“Hmm,” you squinted and started checking out the surroundings. “Sedan in the driveway, zero plants on the front porch, your wife would have killed you already if she saw the porch this muddy, so yeah, you’re basically glowing in the dark.”
“Wow, you’re good,” he let out a heartfelt laugh.
That sound reached your ears, and you felt something flutter in your chest. Something familiar, but not quite. Something you seemed to have long forgotten.
Still on the tip of your tongue somehow.
“Good night, Chris,” you excused yourself. “Thank you once again.”
“Anytime,” he nodded, smile still intact.
Once your door closed in the distance, Chris finally went inside to take the stage for his daily Singing Giraffe performance. Unlike any other evening, however, the girls seemed to be extra alert this time, whispering stuff to each other in absolute glee.
“What are you giggling about so much?” he asked as he took his seat by the bed.
“Daddy?” Harper clung to his arm.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Missha has a mom.”
“Yes, she does.”
“Can’t she be our mom, too?”
Of course, she didn’t mean any ill by that; they were just tiny, pure souls. They had no way of knowing how crushing it was for one parent to hear this when they were trying so hard to be both.
Knowing full well they were never going to be a match for the missing half.
“I don’t think she’d want that, baby,” he caressed his girl’s curls that were identical to his. “Shall we continue Singing Giraffe now?”
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to read Singing Giraffe to twins with Chris.
I asked you who your Comfortopher is, and you said you wanted the DILF dude, so here he is. Time to make your metaphorical ovaries explode.
Welcome to Summerland!🏝️
Summerland is part of an emotive project Mari and I started alllll the way back during Rockstar era, and it's finally seeing the light of day. It's the "happiness" installment of the collection, so I'm legally obligated to put a cw here:
CAUTION: DISGUSTING AMOUNTS OF TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF AHEAD!
Bring out your polaroid cameras and enjoy this wholesome journey that has no other purpose than giving you the warm and fuzzies. Let me know what you think! ^^
P.S: Missha is my goddaughter, and she is as unamused irl as she is in the story.
➥ Contains: Chris the girl dad causing simultaneous ovary explosions everywhere all around the world, Missha debut, "That's not very nice", Bang twins as roastmasters, Chrissha origin story
➥ The news of the hot guy moving into 1546 Ocean Drive takes the entire neighborhood by storm. While you're not indifferent to his impossibly good looks, you would have appreciated a heads-up that he would also be moving into your life.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙼𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝙸𝚗
Super chill Saturday morning in progress on the quiet, pine-lined street. Sun shining, birds chirping, squirrels squirreling…
And a tortoiseshell cat stalking them by the kitchen window like a sharpshooter.
“They know you don’t intend to be friends with them, Missha,” you picked up the sassmeister and gently spanked her fluffy thighs, guiding her towards the very heated Call of Whatever game taking place in the living room. “Look, there are many eligible bachelors for you over there!”
The super chill part was a massive understatement, of course. When Ryder started high school, you had invited his friends over for breakfast one time, and three years later, Saturday Pancakes was still going strong with the exact same set of kids. No, sir, you were NOT going to acknowledge these rascals were about to be of age in the eyes of the law very soon. They were teething just yesterday, when the FUCK did they even start applying to colleges?
Somebody make time stop ASAP.
“Oh, shit!”
“RYDER, LANGUAGE!!!” you growled, pointing the detergent-covered spatula at him.
When you had ‘the talk’ with your son, your first words were basically threatening to disown him if he got a girl pregnant at least before college graduation. While your parents did not approve of the emotional blackmail with their snotty tsks, you were hellbent on not having some girl live through the same fate you did. No one was ever ready for the responsibility of a child at such a young age. What responsibility when you’re a child yourself? Of course it wouldn’t work out if you got married just because you gave birth out of wedlock.
Nevertheless, life had a way of making up for what seemed like the biggest fuckups at the time. You’d been blessed with a wonderful boy who might have matured a bit too early. Although it used to give you the worst case of cuteness aggression when he said stuff like “I’m the man of the house,” he was still eight when he first said that. Ten years later, however, nothing much had changed, really. Still a menace. Still so protective of you. Still your reason to live. On his way to becoming a wonderful man.
“NOPE, no becoming a man till you’re 30, brat, sit your ass down,” you mumbled under your breath, scrubbing the spatula harder like it offended your entire lineage.
You would have loved to share your heart with one more person, of course, but you were getting a bit sick of your blind dates’ reaction to your motherhood. As if you were telling them you had a litter of eight. It wasn’t like you had a vast selection to pick from in a town as small as this, either. Anyone would eventually give up, and so did you, not that you were dying to trap someone in the first place. Your nuclear family of two finally expanded when you adopted Missha five years ago, and that was pretty much your life now. Uneventful, definitely chaotic, but at least happy.
Genuinely happy.
You heard some commotion outside, growing even louder than the one in your living room. So much so that even the boys hit pause on their excessively stressful digital warfare and crowded the kitchen window.
“What the hell is happening over there?” you lowered your head to get a better view.
There was a moving van parked by the house across the street, which had been on the market since January. A man was standing at the front door, talking to a small crowd made up of the entire single population of the neighborhood as well as a few moms. They were trampling each other to welcome this extremely good-looking new resident, and he was politely nodding at each of them, though slightly scared.
“Noooice, Khaleesi, you finally got your match,” Trevor smirked once he spotted the man among the trees. “We approve.”
“Who the fu—?”
You shot an instant death glare at Ryder, your eyes psychotically widened.
“Fine, I’ll keep it PG,” he sighed. “Who the heck are you to approve, my guy?”
“What? She’s our mom, too.”
“I think the goshdarn not!”
“It doesn’t have the intended effect when you have the kids mode on, FYI,” Trevor patted Ryder’s back, then turned to you with the most up-to-no-good smile he could flash. “Go say hi.”
“EW, NO!” you immediately protested.
“Why the goshdarn not?!”
Because that would be desperate? Even you were judging the crowd about to swoon at that doorstep; who the fuck knows what people would think of you if they saw you among those groupies. Christ!
“It’s not something you can understand unless you’re a divorced woman, little man,” you pointed your Saturday regulars in the direction of their duffel bags. “Go get your butts ready. I’ll drive you to practice.”
Twelfth time that day…
Chris was going to have to replace the front door at this rate because people have been knocking on it all day to introduce themselves. With no regard to decorum, at that. Yes, it was hell degrees outside, and his personal uniforms consisted of tank tops and shorts, too. Nevertheless, with kids living under this roof, it was hard not to get uncomfortable when complete strangers showed up at his doorstep in nothing but swimwear, so revealing that they might as well have been naked.
“Daddy, it’s Singing Giraffe time!”
Two girls clung to their father’s legs as he was in the middle of getting acquainted with yet another neighbor.
“Oh, you have… kids,” the blonde who looked like the latest Playboy centerfold grimaced. “Is their mother home? I’d like to say hi.”
Smooth, Chris internally scoffed while the twins glared at the woman. Before he could produce an answer, however…
“Why? Are you going to ask us to go away because we don’t have a mom?” Harper hijacked the mic.
“Girls!”
“Oh, it’s alright! Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?” the clearly early-twenty-something laughed way too loudly. “So you’re… single, huh?”
“Daddy, what does single mean?” Piper looked up with gigantic eyes.
“It means go upstairs and get ready for bed,” Chris led his girls inside. “Say bye to Lisa.”
“Bye, Lisa,” they deadpanned in unison, and Piper added with no sense of self-control.
“Your boobies are out, Lisa. That’s not very nice.”
Chris was absolutely mortified, and if the ground had any plans of splitting open and swallowing him whole, right now would be ideal.
“I am… so sorry,” he bowed his head in embarrassment.
“It’s fine. Really,” Lisa giggled, subtly touching Chris’s arm. “I’ll see you around then, Daddy.”
Yup, Chris might have been guilty of enjoying a certain address back in his glory days, but ever since the day he learned he was going to be a father, it was now just… Well, it was no longer something he wanted to hear from girls barely above the legal drinking age. He mustered his very last drop of energy to drag himself to the twins’ room, but before he could take two steps, he heard yet another knock behind him.
“I swear to fucking GOD I’m getting a ‘Closed’ sign tomorrow,” he marched back to the front door and harshly opened it. “WHAT?!”
“Chill, man. I was just going to ask if you’ve seen a cat around,” a boy in his late teens stared him down, then gestured something like a rock in the air. “A small tortie, about this big, yellow collar around her neck?”
“Oh, I’m… so sorry, I thought you were… No, I haven’t seen any cats around, unfortunately,” he shook his head. “I’ll be on the lookout.”
“Thanks,” the boy bolted as quickly as he had appeared.
Instead of going inside, Chris heaved a deep sigh and walked out, plopping on the porch swing for a moment’s peace. What a day. Yes, he had chosen this town himself because he’d heard great things about its people, but he certainly wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome. He couldn’t even get to unpacking, let alone finishing it.
The pine-lined street was finally calm. He was trying his best to resist the lullaby of crickets chirping and waves crashing in the distance, but when the warm night breeze started rocking him to sleep, he just gave in. Just five minutes. But he needed to put the girls to bed first. But five minutes. No, he needed to get up right now. But five—
“OW!”
A phantom punch in his stomach made him cough his lungs out. Ready to knock down some raccoon that manifested out of thin air, Chris immediately assumed a fighting stance. Well, at least he tried to, but that sleep paralysis demon weight wouldn’t budge an inch, sinking its claws deeper into his favorite sleeveless shirt to stay in place.
A cat.
“Oh, wow, you’re beautiful,” he scratched under her chin, “even though you scared the bejesus out of me just now.”
When he turned the collar charm around, he saw a phone number engraved in there with a little message that said ‘I’m lost. Please call.’
“Smart. Maybe I should get one of these for my girls, too, yeah?” he giggled to himself and sat up.
The cat got super comfortable in her new location, kneaded some biscuits, and curled up into a croissant to sleep. Fondly smiling at the little furball, Chris spent quite a while petting her. He couldn’t help but wonder if this marble cake was sent by some divine power because it seemed to have some freakish healing powers. The more she happily purred in his lap, the more he felt this block of lead weighing him down for years on end…
…shrinking.
“HARPER! DADDY GOT A CAT!”
The scream of severe cuteness aggression startled the new couple on the swing to death, effectively concluding the peace-and-quiet time. As the cat tried to hide away inside his shirt, Chris very carefully pulled her out, earning himself a few scratches as souvenir tattoos.
“Shh, easy,” he pacified his girls. “She’s not ours, baby. Be very, very gentle, okay?”
As the twins were petting the cat like they were entrusted with delicate china, Chris reached for his phone and dialed the number on the collar, admittedly a bit reluctantly.
“Hi, is this the human of… Missha?”
The window between returning from your carpool duties and Ryder coming home like a miniature Hulk was all the time you had to tend to work affairs on Saturdays. The stampede danger was finally eliminated with the crowd dispersed. You could hear yourself think again.
“Oh my god, like, you’re so cuuute! Is your dad home?”
Why would you jinx yourself like that? Just why?
You looked through the kitchen window to spot the source of the shriek that disturbed Missha. Someone was calling on your new neighbor again, but instead of him, there were twin girls at the door, looking visibly annoyed.
“Yes,” the one in sun-patterned pajamas answered, though with the exasperation of a woman who had been through five divorces.
“Can I see him?”
“No.”
“But why not?”
“You’re a stranger.”
“My name is Lisa. Now can I see your dad?”
“Girl, you just do not get father-infant daughter relationships at all, do you?” you contorted your face in cringe, sipping on the coffee you had started brewing before leaving home.
“You don’t even know our names!” the one in the moon-patterned pajamas yelled this time.
“Okay, what are your names then?”
“Daddy says plastic is harmful. You can’t come in.”
SLAM!
“Jesus christ, is that what he teaches these girls?!” you tsked to yourself, then settled down at the kitchen table to get to work.
You thought you had a solid few hours to complete the day’s checklist, but alas… You could recall blinking at some point, then all of a sudden, it was nighttime. If it weren’t for Ryder’s majestic entrance, you weren’t even going to realize it was dinner time already.
“Hey, Mom! I’m hitting the shower. I’ll be right down,” he stormed in and immediately dashed towards the stairs.
“Ryder, door first,” you called out to him to close it, your eyes still on the screen.
But no clank was heard.
“Ryder!”
Not a peep.
“I swear to fucking god. Every time,” you grunted to yourself and closed the door on His Majesty’s behalf. Considering the immense pain right below your right shoulder blade, it was probably time you called it a day anyway.
Per the commandments of your household, the cuntress had to have her meals first. You refilled Missha’s bowl, which she could normally hear from ten miles away and teleport herself to the kitchen, but the entire house was completely still. You scoured each room, looked inside all the cracks large enough for her to pour herself through, but…
“RYDER, GET DOWN HERE! MISSHA’S GONE!!!”
You took the left side of the street while he took the right, but the door-to-door search yielded no results. Damn this girl’s camouflage coat that made her blend into any backdrop. You started to freak out even harder when you returned home empty-handed. It was dark out; who knows what the hell kind of wild animals were out there. The street wasn’t super well-lit, either. What if a passing car didn’t have its headlights on?
“What’s the protocol for lost cats? DO WE CALL THE POLICE?!” you started frantically pacing in the kitchen.
“First, we calm down,” Ryder held your shoulders and sat you down on a chair. “I’ll go grab my computer, and we’ll look into this, okay? I promise we’ll find her.”
You were taking deep breaths, which, apparently, was a total bullshit recommendation being perpetuated. It had zero impact on calming you down. Your hands were still trembling, and you were nervously shaking your legs under the table.
You almost knocked over the entire table when you lunged at your phone to pick up the call from an unknown number.
“Hi, is this the human of… Missha?”
“YES!” you screamed, already grabbing your car keys and heading out. “Could you give me your address, please? I’ll be right over.”
“Uh… I was going to offer to bring her home, but sure,” the man on the phone answered. “1546 Ocean Drive.”
You stopped dead in your tracks, then slowly turned around to look at your door with 1545 written next to it. When you narrowed your eyes and stared into the darkness, the only thing you could make out was some white shirt of sorts thanks to the streetlights ricocheting off of it.
“Are you the dude on the porch right now?”
He turned to his left to spot someone on the phone and eventually saw you standing by the front door.
“Oh, hi!” he waved at you as a makeshift location pin. “Yes, I w—”
You immediately hung up and booked it towards the white shirt guy. The approaching stomps were growing so loud that even Missha’s fur was standing on end out of fear.
“THERE YOU ARE!” you hugged the crap out of the poor animal. “You scared the bejesus out of me. Don’t run away like that again!”
The man looked at you with something akin to surprise in his eyes, then flashed a bright smile.
“I am so sorry. She gets really feisty when she’s stressed. I hope she didn’t scratch too deep,” you addressed your lord and savior at long last.
“Feisty?” he cocked a brow. “She’s been sleeping on my lap the whole time.”
“Girl, did you have something against me all along?” you gasped at Missha’s betrayal.
“Can’t we please keep her, Daddy?”
Only then did you realize that you weren’t alone on that porch. The twins, and frankly the best roastmasters you’d ever seen, were pulling on their father’s hands, with eyes so huge that you had half a mind to offer joint custody to these girls.
“They’ve been begging for a cat forever,” he scratched his nape.
“But she’s my little girl,” you kneeled at their eye level. “You would be very sad if someone took away your daddy, too, right?”
They nodded in unison, still pouting.
“What are your names?” you asked with a smile.
They looked at their father for permission. When they received the approving nod, they graced you with an answer.
“I’m Piper.”
“I’m Harper.”
“Nice to meet you, Piper and Harper. I’m Missha’s mom,” you shook each of their tiny hands.
“Are you a teacher, too, Missha’s mom?”
“I own a bookstore,” you replied. “Do you like books?”
“Daddy reads Singing Giraffe to us every night.”
“Daddy might need an update on his repertoire,” you looked him up and down, then pointed at your house. “Tell you what. If your dad gives permission, would you like to be Missha’s new friends?”
“PLEASE DADDY, CAN WE?!”
“Only if I can be her friend, too. I mean, we already got a situationship going on, so…” the man set forth his sole condition. “But NOT if you don’t go to bed right now!”
“Good night, Missha’s mom!” the twins bolted inside right away.
You waved them goodbye, unable to control your endeared laughter. They reminded you of the day you learned Ryder’s gender all of a sudden. If the doctor said ‘It’s a girl’ then, would this be your reality by any chance?
“Welcome to the neighborhood, by the way,” you extended your hand to the man still staring at you with a smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t drop by earlier. Your front porch was like a meet and greet.”
“Chris,” he warmly shook your hand. “I apologize for the scene. The neighborhood is a little… friendly.”
“What an interesting spelling for DILF hunter,” you uttered with a completely straight face. Even though he burst out laughing, he seemed a bit flustered.
“Is it… that obvious that I’m single?”
“Hmm,” you squinted and started checking out the surroundings. “Sedan in the driveway, zero plants on the front porch, your wife would have killed you already if she saw the porch this muddy, so yeah, you’re basically glowing in the dark.”
“Wow, you’re good,” he let out a heartfelt laugh.
That sound reached your ears, and you felt something flutter in your chest. Something familiar, but not quite. Something you seemed to have long forgotten.
Still on the tip of your tongue somehow.
“Good night, Chris,” you excused yourself. “Thank you once again.”
“Anytime,” he nodded, smile still intact.
Once your door closed in the distance, Chris finally went inside to take the stage for his daily Singing Giraffe performance. Unlike any other evening, however, the girls seemed to be extra alert this time, whispering stuff to each other in absolute glee.
“What are you giggling about so much?” he asked as he took his seat by the bed.
“Daddy?” Harper clung to his arm.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Missha has a mom.”
“Yes, she does.”
“Can’t she be our mom, too?”
Of course, she didn’t mean any ill by that; they were just tiny, pure souls. They had no way of knowing how crushing it was for one parent to hear this when they were trying so hard to be both.
Knowing full well they were never going to be a match for the missing half.
“I don’t think she’d want that, baby,” he caressed his girl’s curls that were identical to his. “Shall we continue Singing Giraffe now?”
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to read Singing Giraffe to twins with Chris.
I asked you who your Comfortopher is, and you said you wanted the DILF dude, so here he is. Time to make your metaphorical ovaries explode.
Welcome to Summerland!🏝️
Summerland is part of an emotive project Mari and I started alllll the way back during Rockstar era, and it's finally seeing the light of day. It's the "happiness" installment of the collection, so I'm legally obligated to put a cw here:
CAUTION: DISGUSTING AMOUNTS OF TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF AHEAD!
Bring out your polaroid cameras and enjoy this wholesome journey that has no other purpose than giving you the warm and fuzzies. Let me know what you think! ^^
P.S: Missha is my goddaughter, and she is as unamused irl as she is in the story.
➥ Contains: "Gaslight, Gatekeep, Bangboss" a.k.a mindfuck galore, hotline bling action feat. Chris and his foul mouth, Avatar Sex™
➥ Reader discretion advised: See the masterlist for the full disclaimer about this project, general warnings, and request guidelines. By continuing, you accept to read at your own risk.
⚠ — (Non-exhaustive, full cw policy here): Threesome with twins, manipulation, yandere undertones
➥ You’ve never believed in evil twins until you met your boyfriend’s brother, and you’re about to learn that there is no such thing as a “good twin” in the first place.
“H–He’s gonna stay at our place?”
The logistics are a bit confusing to an outsider. The parents named their sons Chris-topher and Chris-tian, but no one ever calls them by their full names—they are both known as Chris in their respective circles, which seldom coincide anyway. And during the rare times they have to be in the same room, people discern the twins by shortening Christian into Chan.
Because the older brother has asserted his dominance by being born one minute earlier, and claimed the exclusive rights to Chris.
“Yeah, but only for a few days until his apartment is repainted. It’ll be like I never left,” Chris launches his dimples at you. “I just didn’t want him to waste money on a hotel room, and he can keep you company until I return from my trip. Would that be okay?”
Goodie, WOULD IT?
It’s one of those “I swear it’s true, but I can’t prove it” things, which drives you fucking crazy. The younger one’s vibes are a bit… off, so to speak. He doesn’t smile; he just smirks. He doesn’t look; he eats you alive with his smoldering eyes, and it’s uncanny how it feels like he’s running his tongue all over your body when he just stares at you from across the room.
And he stares at you a lot.
“Of course, baby. If that’s gonna put your mind at ease…” you reciprocate his sunset smile as if your chest isn’t actively tightening.
You don’t understand how these two men were wombmates raised by the very same family. It’s not like one was adopted, or the other was sent to a boarding school during his formative years. Same upbringing, same schools, same classrooms even, yet the blonde one is giving full Joe Goldberg whereas Christopher is literally the perfect guy you know. Kindest soul. An absolute gentleman. Rare species of a generous lover who makes you scream into the night.
Which is why you keep asking yourself, “What is life?” every time you cross paths with Chan at the Bang house on major holidays.
To his credit, he’s not doing anything to warrant a formal complaint. At least not in front of people, so you spend half the time suspecting if things are happening for real or just in your head. It’s the way he looks at you that no one seems to notice. It’s the way he only ever talks to you when coincidentally no one is around you—running into you in the hallways, waiting to use the restroom after you, appearing in the kitchen when you’re picking up another bottle of wine to bring to the table.
And when he does…
“If I catch you looking at my lips one more time, I’m getting under that table and eating the shit out of your pussy. I’m warning you.”
Yet he whispers that lunacy so softly that your entire sense of reality distorts. He says it like he’s reciting a love poem about his soul-crushing longing for you, even punctuating it with a barely-there kiss on your ear. You hang onto that bottle of wine for dear life so as not to crash it into a million pieces and alert the household. They should stay blissfully unaware of the blasphemy taking place in the kitchen where the pleasant meal they are having was made with a lot of love.
And your mind has the hardest fucking time registering just how wrong this is because he looks exactly like the man you want to spend the rest of your life with!
Unfortunately for you, the confusion doesn’t stop at the Thanksgiving ambushes. He knows you like working during late a.m. hours, but he also knows damn well Chris might be sleeping right next to you.
Yet the texts he sends in the dead of the night…
Tian
halfway through this gram of coke i remembered just how fucking beautiful you are
and that im insanely in love with you
Of course you’ve thought about it. You’ve thought about talking to your boyfriend about his brother’s extremely inappropriate behavior that gives you extremely inappropriate butterflies, but seconds after your checkmarks go blue, the texts always disappear. No ‘Message deleted’ or anything; it’s like he’s never sent them in the first place. You’ve even tried screenshotting a few times as soon as you opened a text, just to prove to yourself that you’re not fucking hallucinating things, but all you’d get would be a black screen.
HOW DOES HE EVEN DO THAT?
What are you even going to say to Chris without solid evidence in your hands? Whatever you claim, Chan will just deny it, and you will look like the pick-me girl who thinks everyone in the room has the hots for her.
Yet here you are, about to live under the same roof with the very man that makes you question everything you’ve ever known to be true.
At your boyfriend’s request!
“Welcome, Chr— I mean, Chan.”
“There’s only one of us here. You can call me Chris,” he faintly smirks as he enters through your front door. “That’s what everybody calls me anyway.”
“I think it would confuse me,” you politely smile at him, “so I’d rather stick to Chan if it’s okay.”
“You wouldn’t be confused if you just sat on my face,” he scoffs under his breath.
“What?”
“What?”
You’ve heard it. You’ve fucking heard it! Five seconds he’s been here, and it has already started. You might just have to walk around with a microphone to catch the shit he blurts out on tape, but you’re not even sure if the mic will actually record it. Fuck, he might just be a vampire of sorts, and maybe that’s why he cannot be captured on media in any shape or form!
You should definitely ask him to stand in front of a mirror just in case.
“What you said just now…” you point your finger at him with furrowed brows.
“I didn’t say anything,” he purses his lips, looking at you with slight concern as if to silently ask if you’re okay, then proceeds to carry his bag to the guest room. “Thank you for having me.”
And thus begins the unbearable heaviness of breathing the same air as Chan because it feels like you’re inhaling mercury.
You simply don’t know how to act around him. He looks so eerily identical to his brother that if he covers his hair under a beanie, you just cannot tell them apart. It really feels like you’re having dinner with Chris, and it makes you feel weirdly guilty. You should be able to discern your own boyfriend without leaning on a hair color. You share a bed with this man. You share a life with this man!
“Is there something on my face?”
No, but you wish there were, and you wish it were something prominent. A freckle. A tattoo. Something. Maybe then you wouldn’t intensely stare at him while playing a spot-the-difference game all by yourself.
“Nothing,” you shake your head as you chew on your last bite and reach for his empty plate. “If you’re finished with that…”
“I’ll help clear the table.”
All you do is stand next to each other while doing the dishes, and you just cannot figure out why you get this intense urge to touch yourself. Is it because he wears the same cologne as Chris? Is it because he wears the same chains as Chris? Is it because he dresses like his entire wardrobe is sponsored by Chrome Hearts?
Just… WHAT THE HELL IS IT?!
Thank fuck the phone rings before you could even think about doing something thoroughly and utterly stupid.
“Hey, baby! Just checking in,” Chris chirps on the phone. “How’s everything?”
“GREAT!” you uncontrollably scream into the receiver. “We just had dinner. How was the client meeting?”
“Also great. Not to jinx it, but we’re sooo sealing the deal,” Chris brags, so much satisfaction dripping from his voice that you can practically see him grinning.
“Oh, we’re celebrating the shit out of it when you get back!” you congratulate him enthusiastically. “When are you coming home?”
“In two days,” Chris responds, his voice suddenly coated with a different kind of contentment. “Did someone miss me?”
He wears that cheeky overcoat on his voice, but it still flares something in your loins. You head to your bedroom with fast steps and close the door, taking your clothes off lightning fast.
“I miss you a lot,” you put the call on speakerphone for full hand-ependence. “Like… miss you miss you.”
“I miss you, too, angel,” he sighs longingly, his voice deliciously deeper. “God, I’d kill for a few licks from your pussy right now.”
THIS right there is fucking PROOF!
It doesn’t have anything to do with Chan. It never did in the first place because it’s just an optical illusion. If the man you’re in love with, the man whose children you want to have is projected right before your eyes, of course you’re going to react some type of way!
“And I’d kill to have you between my legs,” you sprawl on the bed more comfortably and start teasing your body. “God, it’s like you’ve been gone forever, baby. I need you bad.”
“Mm, how wet are you right now?”
“I’m soaking,” you breathily answer. “You’d slide right in.”
“Oh fuck yeah, I would. Dip your fingers in there,” he starts listing his demands three. “Get your nipples wet for me, baby. Play with them.”
You close your eyes and do as he says, your fingers prodding your entrance to collect your slick. You slowly coat your nipples, lightly pinching them, imagining it’s Chris’ gentle bites.
“Are you touching yourself, too?” you ask.
“Uh huh…”
“How hard are you, baby?”
“Belly bulge-worthy. If I bent you over right now, no fucking way you’d be able to walk straight tomorrow,” he confesses through his heavy breathing. “But it doesn’t feel half as good as your pussy. God, how I wish you were on my lap right now.”
His voice carries a jillion kilowatts, but it’s so soothing. It really feels like he’s with you, whispering his unhinged desires into your ear in this bed that belongs to the two of you.
“What would you do to me?”
“First, we make out. A lot,” he presses play on his imaginary sextape. “I kiss you deep, and you fucking drip all over me.”
“Mm, keep going,” you play with your breasts just like he wants. “Fuck, you should see this right now. My nipples are so hard, they are begging to be sucked on.”
“Imagine me holding you. I kiss your neck first,” he speaks with a sultry smile tucked into his words. “The wet kind, just the way you like.”
And imagine, you do. You imagine his lips on your skin, covering you with his wetness. You imagine him being buried deep inside you. You imagine him making little love confessions in between his filthy words, making you giggle midfuck.
“Down to your collarbones… Then your tits… Kissing all over them first,” he lets out a big exhale. “Getting you so horny for me, you shudder when I take your nipples between my lips.”
“Fuck, Chris…”
It’s like you manifest him right next to you through sheer willpower. He paints you such vivid mental pictures that you actually shudder. You actually feel licked. It feels wet.
It feels… wet.
When you open your eyes, the blond demon stares at you like your government-assigned incubus, sucking on your nipples. You inadvertently gasp when you realize that wasn’t a figment of your imagination, and he immediately gestures shush, then keeps licking as if everything’s alright with the universe. And now you’re fucking losing it because it’s…
It’s technically Chris!
“This isn’t enough, baby,” he groans on the other end. “God, I need to fuck your face. I need to put your pussy in my mouth.”
Chan lets go of your breasts and slithers down, kissing his way down to your crotch. You hold your breath as you watch him wrap his arms around your thighs, and when he hits that first lick…
…you WHINE.
“Feels good, yeah? Getting your pretty cunt licked,” Chris speaks like he’s clenching his teeth. “Feel me slurping on that clit… Licking into your oozing hole… Let me fuck that tight little hole with my tongue…”
And that’s exactly what happens.
Chris declares his wishes, and they come true one by one. Chan slurps on your clit as quietly as possible, but you can still hear the wet sounds. He dips his tongue into your entrance, licking you like your arousal is his sole supply of water, then flattens his tongue and buries his face deeper into you. You cannot believe what you’re seeing. This just can’t be real. Nope, you fell asleep in front of the TV, and your confusions as of late are manifesting in your dreams as a porn clip under the “Cheating” category.
“Fuck I need you to ride my face,” Chris’ breathing turns labored on the phone. “Ride my face, baby. Use me. Get what you need from your man.”
Chan stops his relentless licking, extremely proud of how he covered half his face in your slick. He removes his shirt and climbs up right next to you, guiding you to get on your knees and straddle his face. It’s as if you have no willpower whatsoever. You blindly follow your lust, living Chris’ fantasies in live action despite the questionable means.
“Wish I could keep kissing you everywhere,” he sighs. “Hold you in my arms while drowning in your slick, but keep kissing you. Kiss your thighs. Kiss your chest. Kiss your neck…”
“Kiss my neck, Chris…” you moan, holding onto the headboard for dear life.
A shockwave passes through your body when the disconnection tone is followed by an actual kiss on your neck. When you turn around, Chris doesn’t give you a chance to question reality and takes your lips within his, kissing you deep, deep, deep…
But something feels… out of the ordinary.
“You… kiss different,” you hazily speak when he pulls back.
“I do?” he smiles, pulling you off of Chan and closer to himself. “How so?”
“You never bite when you kiss,” you point out.
“Or,” Chan sneaks behind you, “that’s how he always kisses.”
He holds your chin and turns your face to himself, kissing you the deepest you’ve ever been kissed, and you’re entirely aghast. THIS is the pair of lips you are used to, but when you open your eyes, there is a severe mismatch between what you see and what you feel.
“Ch–Chris?” you hesitantly ask.
“You finally noticed,” he smiles.
“Wha—? Ho—? Y–Your hair…”
“Does it look good on me?”
You turn and look at the dark-haired man. He looks like Chris, but feels entirely different. It’s as if your actual boyfriend is possessed by a certain demon because you can clearly see a drop of something sinister in those eyes.
“But… you were so convincing on the phone!” you protest.
“When are you going to get this?” Chan gently caresses your cheek. “We are one and the same.”
“Don’t think, baby,” Chris wraps his arms around your waist, quietly speaking into your ear. “Just let this happen.”
Chan moves closer and kisses you, but this time he doesn’t bite. He moves softer than the clouds, wetter than the ocean, and deeper than an abyss, exactly the way Chris normally moves. The intensity amplifies when your man starts composing an obscene love poem about his soul-crushing longing for you on your neck with his lips. Your entire sense of reality distorts.
You can’t tell who is who or what anything is anymore.
“Tell me you love me, too,” Chan pleads, uncharacteristically sad eyes begging you. “For years I’ve been burning for you. Let me hear it just once.”
“Tell him, baby,” Chris encourages you, running his fingers through your hair. “He has suffered long enough.”
Suffered?
This has to be a dream, right? You look into Chan’s eyes, and one second traces of sinister are glowing neon crimson in there, and they are replaced with indescribable longing in the next. Then you look at your man, and his endlessly comforting eyes have the tiniest blotch of danger in them, something you’ve never ever seen before. When the confusion becomes too much, you say fuck it to everything. You don’t think.
You just let it happen.
“I love you, Chan,” you grant him his wish.
For the first time ever, he doesn’t smirk. He smiles at you so brightly that your chest sizzles. He dives in for another kiss as Chris lays you down, spreading your legs wide.
“Ready for your first taste?” he asks Chan, flashing the signature smirk bespoke to the younger one. He spreads your pussy for him, biting his lips hard at the sight. “Look at this. Sooo fucking wet, you could use it as sustenance for a week.”
Chan thickly gulps, his breathing suddenly stuttering. He slowly moves between your legs as if he’s scared, looking up at you with huge eyes like a puppy as if to ask ‘Can I please?’ The drastic change in demeanor gives you whiplash. It’s like they can swap their personalities on cue. And maybe the insanity has rubbed off on you along the way.
Or maybe it was sexually transmitted all along, who knows?
“Have at it, fucking psycho,” you snicker.
He makes your chest sizzle again with that bright smile and traps your clit between his plush lips, happily munching away. Chris kisses all over your body, astral projecting just listening to your delightful sounds of pleasure. It makes him hungrier. It makes him greedier. He suddenly feels this intense urge to diminish you into a pile of whimpering mess, then snort the shit out of you to experience the highest high of his life.
“Go lower,” Chris urges Chan. “I want a taste, too.”
As Chan moves down to your entrance, Chris takes over clit duties, lovingly kissing and licking you. He puts one of your hands on Chan’s head and holds the other within his, tightly intertwining his fingers with yours like he wants to anchor you to himself. You look down, and it’s like you’re seeing double. The same voice that sounds like an echo. The same face that looks like a carbon copy. The same texture of skin under your fingertips. The heavy breathing. The relentless hunger. The wet sounds growing louder and louder and louder.
The fire slowly smoldering within you is suddenly fueled by two tongues gliding on your most sensitive spots, turning it into a river of molten lava that demolishes everything standing in its path.
“Oh, fuck, I’m— God, yes. Yes, just like that. Like that, oh my god I’m cumming!!!”
The finish line is located so high that it feels like a free fall from Everest. Your climax hits like a thousand car crashes, casualties everywhere like a doomsday cosplay, and you watch yourself get out of your own body. If there were a licensed medical practitioner around, they would pronounce you dead for at least about thirty seconds.
The wetness reluctantly retreats when you start thrashing with overstimulation. You have ruined your sheets, and the two men seem to notice, judging by the extremely proud looks on their faces. Chan gets on his knees and gives his cock a few pumps, then carefully presses against your soaked entrance.
“Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he stupidly grins to himself, his eyes closed.
You kinda hope that he doesn’t. It would give you some taunt material for everything he’s put you through over the years. As he slowly sinks in with deep breaths, Chris keeps softly kissing your clit, relishing the way you squirm.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby,” he kisses your wrist. “It’s going to feel really good in just a second.”
Your swollen walls swallow Chan whole, and his entire resolve goes out the window. He rams himself into you as hard as he can, incredulous how it can feel like you’re sucking his cock when he’s buried deep inside you. He knows he’s going to blow in maybe ten seconds if he keeps moving that fast, but he can’t help it. He can’t fucking help how incredible it feels inside you. He can’t help sinking his fingers deep into your flesh, moaning your name over and over again, surrendering his soul to you one clench at a time.
But what’s interesting is that something about the way he fucks feels…
…familiar.
“Look at me.”
He opens his eyes and looks at you when you grab onto his wrists, slowing way down to calm himself.
“This isn’t the first time we’re fucking, is it?” you ask with a lopsided grin.
The brothers share a look that leaves no room for doubt that they are clearly busted. You expect a stern denial, but it never comes.
If anything, you hear a direct confession instead.
“N–No, but… fuck… but l–look how you’re stretching around my cock… See how it’s a perfect fit?” Chan pants. “We were made for each other.”
“We were made for each other. All of us,” Chris repeats, climbing right next to you, and lovingly looks into your eyes. “We love you, baby. Always have.”
“And always will,” Chan adds.
Chris pulls you into a kiss as Chan runs faster to the finish line. You suddenly feel this huge wave of emotion wash over you. You don’t know what it is, but it sure as fuck isn’t just lust, and when Chan spills inside you with an “I love you” that rips from the depths of his throat, it cements what you’ve been suspecting all along but could never admit even to yourself.
Tonight, you find out you are indeed in love with two men.
“Tired, baby?” Chris plays with your hair, a fond smile on his face, while Chan catches his breath on your chest.
“Overwhelmed,” you answer with your eyes closed, indeed tired but infinitely satisfied. “It’s… a lot to take in.”
“It’s okay,” he kisses your forehead. “We always have tomorrow.”
“I just need a few minutes of shuteye,” you kiss his hand. “Then I’m sucking your soul out of you.”
You let him bury his face in the crook of your neck and keep caressing Chan’s hair on your chest. A very pleasant fatigue envelops you as you listen to the soft breathing melting into heartbeats slowing down. You think about what Chan said to you earlier. You’ve always thought you know the man closest to you, mind and heart alike, but maybe you haven’t known him at all. Strangely enough, it doesn’t unsettle you. There are two bodies tangled up with you in this bed, but even though the suffixes may be different, they are one and the same.
They are just…
Chris.
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to become a Chandwich with them.
➥ Changbin x Reader (f) — 1.5k (shut up i know i said a few hundred words but that ain't happening)
➥ Boyfriend's Father, Crime Lord, Age Gap
➥ Contains: Dom!Binsanity who has so many screws loose when it comes to you, Jeong Yunho mention
➥ Reader discretion advised: See the masterlist for the full disclaimer about this project, general warnings, and request guidelines. By continuing, you accept to read at your own risk.
⚠ — Adultery (not between the pairing)
➥ You need to think thrice before giving him an ultimatum because half the heads in the city are rolling because of you.
“Mr. Seo demands your presence.”
Just hearing the name makes your entire body shiver because the henchman stopped at Mr. Seo. There is no junior at the end of it.
Of course Seo motherfucking Changbin demands your presence because the lord of the underworld does not request. He just wills things, and they happen. He says “Let there be dark,” and no conscious mind stays pure just to earn his contentment. He says “Let there be blood,” and turf wars break out just for his bespoke entertainment. It’s actually why you get a little weak in the knees when you just think of him because omnipotence is the hottest trait a man can have.
And if fucking his less-than-impressive son is what it takes to insert yourself into his world, so be it.
“Today,” the man raises his voice impatiently. “Follow me.”
You smirk to yourself as your heels click on the quiet marble corridor. You know why you’ve been summoned. The night before, you “forgot” to follow one of the cardinal rules he has set—you have to be within his line of sight at all times, which is also why there are cameras everywhere you’re allowed to set foot in.
What surveillance? You get a massive kick out of being his personal Truman Show.
When you cross the threshold of his study, you find Changbin watching the nightscape out the window, so intently that the energy he exudes gives you a headache. His lapdog closes the door behind you, and once he hears the soft clank, the man that owns the leash to your heart, soul, and pussy finally turns around.
But he doesn’t look at you.
“Something you wanna say to me?” he asks, chillingly calm as he finishes his drink and immediately pours another one.
“Should there be?”
“That playing dumb thing only works if I tell you to shut your brain off, and as we can both see, I’m not currently balls deep inside you,” he quietly snarls. “Approach.”
You’re all but squealing as you’re sashaying towards his desk. When you stop right before him, he heaves a deep sigh, then pulls you close from your waist.
“Why did you close the blinds last night?” he asks, gently caressing your neck. “You know how much I hate not being able to see you.”
“You could’ve just checked the live feed.”
“It was conveniently cut off as if someone wanted to be out of my sight,” he stares daggers at you, patience burning away dangerously fast. “Makes you wonder what someone might be doing that’s so important that she needs fucking privacy under my roof.”
“Did you want to watch your own son hit this?” you scoff.
“Oh, you don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he wraps his fingers around your throat.
Yes. Yes. This is the part you love the most. When he fucking snaps. When he loses his shit so spectacularly that he forgets what he’s supposed to be.
“I say, and you do,” he spits through his clenched jaw. “Do you need a refresher about what happens when you don’t listen?”
Yes, you do, actually. You want to feel that delicious sizzle on your ass again. You want him to fuck you dumb again. You want him to call you his good girl when you make yourself cum on his fingers, then watch him get hard to licking your cream off of himself.
“I didn’t want to distract you,” you speak in a knowing voice, though audibly annoyed. “I heard you were having a little dinner party with your precious wife.”
“Fuck what you heard,” he traps you between the desk and his body. “Nothing’s a good enough reason to disobey your man.”
“My man?” you burst into hysterical laughter. “Your son doesn’t have a shred of spine to tell me what to do, nor could he even if he wanted to.”
“I said your man, not your bitchass side piece,” he corrects you.
“Oh, so you’re the main character, and he’s the dude that gets killed in the first ten minutes, is that it?” you deride.
“Is there a problem?”
“Oh, there are many problems,” you purse your lips. “Just so you know, I’m getting less and less careful with my knives around your wife.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, you seem to have a side piece of your own, and that’s not me, Mr. Seo.”
He can’t help the tiny smirk that clings to his lips because he’s tickled so much. He loves it when you throw jealous fits like that as if you don’t know a piece of paper means nothing to him. Nothing legally binds Seo Changbin to anything when he’s very much above the law. He is the law, and you are the blind spot he never meant to have.
But he’d rather die than get his sight back.
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” he breaks into a content smile.
“How do I put this?” you crease your brows as you give him an executive summary of your coup plan. “If you keep testing my patience, which I have very little left by the way, I’m gonna make your son cum inside me, then make your wife eat it in your marital bed.”
You put your hand on his and remove it from your throat, your face straight as an arrow.
“Either get divorced and give me what I goddamn deserve, or just say you have no intention of ever wifing me so I can take my business to Jeongs,” you spell it out for him plain and simple. “Everyone knows Yunho’s nickname is The Head for a reason.”
Changbin doesn’t speak. He listens to you with eyes as dead as yours as if to say, “Are you done?” When silence sits between you, he peels his eyes off your fucking beautiful face and slowly pulls your dress all the way up to your waist. He’s at least fair; he makes a mental note of giving you bonus points for following his other cardinal rule, which is to never inconvenience him with underwear. He softly taps your inner thigh for you to spread your legs a little, beyond content to watch that single drop trickle down your dampened folds. He dips two fingers into his scotch glass and swipes them on your pussy for a little flavor, then finally looks at you as he offers his fingers to you. He watches you swirl your tongue around his digits, savor the taste he has created just for you, then removes his fingers to prod your entrance.
“If you mention another man’s name right in my face again,” he quietly warns, “I’ll fucking destroy everything you love.”
He pushes in three fingers all at once, and you gasp hard. He doesn’t let you adjust, starting right at 100 and only climbing up from there. Just a bit of back-and-forth with him, and you’re already so slippery, enough to fuck the shit out of you. You hold onto the desk for dear life to keep your balance, and he sneers, having the time of his life watching you struggle. He makes himself comfortable on his leather chair, fingers still inside you, then buries his face into your cunt to burn you alive. The exact rhythm you love. The exact flicks of his tongue on your clit that make your brain go fuzzy. It’s probably longer than that, but it only feels like a few seconds before you feel a gigantic wave approach. And he knows because your walls are so swollen that any more will trap him inside you and break his fingers.
“DON’T STOP!!!” you whine when he suddenly slows way down.
“Shh, patience, baby.”
He reaches for his phone on the desk, fingering you a lot more languidly but never fully stopping. He needs the impact to land at a very specific moment. He works you until you tense up again. Until your breathing shortens again. Before he knows it, you’re moaning a little louder. A little deeper. When he decides you’re ripe enough, he dials a number and speaks into the receiver very calmly.
“Pay a visit to the East side,” he stares into your eyes as he places his order, fingering you a lot more fervently. “I want Jeong Yunho’s head.”
You explode when the words reach your ears, and Changbin helps himself to a tall glass of you. You feel so good, so satisfied that you can’t help bursting into a fucked out giggle fit. He finally stops and pulls you onto his lap, sharing the taste that drives him fucking crazier with the woman that holds his sanity hostage.
“Would you look at that?” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “All of a sudden, you have nowhere to take your business to.”
“Murder as a love language, huh?” you bite his crooked smile. “I think I’m swooning.”
“What can I say? I’m a romantic like that,” he lands a delicious slap on your ass and starts unbuttoning his pants.
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dialogue prompts/sentence starters for (dark) smut writers. feel free to use these; credit not needed but appreciated! minors dni. tw for dark content (non/dubcon, stalking, kidnapping, and so on)
"You're shaking, love. Are you that desperate for my touch?"
"You think I like hurting you? You give me no choice."
"You're safe with me. I won't let anyone else touch you, ever."
"That's it, baby, take it all... I want you to be so full of me you forget your own name."
"Why did you close the blinds last night? I hate not being able to see you."
"I love how tight you get when you're scared."
"Come back to bed... Don't make me tie you up again."
"Go on, lie to me. Tell me you hate me while you're leaking all over my fingers."
"You left the window open. Were you hoping I'd stop by and catch you asleep?"
"I know it hurts, angel. Don't worry, you'll learn to crave it."
"Don't bother locking your door. I had a spare key made."
"Why can't you see we're meant to be?"
"I know you're awake. Stop pretending."
"I installed cameras in your bedroom... I had to make sure you're safe when I'm not there."
"Stop screaming, doll. If you can't behave inside, how am I ever supposed to let you out of the house again?"
"Just let me take care of you."
"It's all your husband's/wife's/partner's fault. Can't you see they're trying to keep us apart?"
"Why are you crying? I saved you. Stop being so ungrateful."
"I'm keeping you here for your own safety. It's too dangerous outside."
"It's okay if you don't kiss me back yet. You're so cute when you're shy."
"Did you really think you could escape?"
"Look how you're stretching around my cock... it's a perfect fit. We were made for each other."
"Don't close your eyes now. I want you to see who owns you."
"Come on, let me in. You won't like what happens if you don't."
Idk if u saw the new chan pic but PLEASE write something with the reader being the one taking the pic and then riding chan after!! pleasee
Railway🖤
Pairing: Chan x femReader
Word Count: 2688
Summary: Chan finishes his workout in his quiet home gym and comes up with a playful idea for a mirror-style photograph. He calls you in, positions you between his legs, and has you take a cleverly angled picture that makes it look like he snapped it himself. Things soon escalate from there on...
Warnings/Tags: fluff, teasing, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, riding Chan, mirror sex (sort of), Chan's a simp
The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the treadmill cooling down and the soft clink of metal plates settling back into place. Chan lay flat on his bench beneath the rack, arms folded loosely over his stomach, chest rising steadily after his last set. The overhead lights cast a warm glow across the ceiling mirrors he’d installed months ago, ‘for form checks,’ though you two used them for far more than that.
His phone hovered above his face as he scrolled, lips twitching as an idea popped into his head. A soft, breathy giggle escaped him. “Oh,” he murmured to himself, eyes narrowing playfully. “Stay will love that.” He tapped your contact without hesitation.
A few minutes later, you pushed open the door to his home gym, leaning against the frame. “You called?”
Chan didn’t move from the bench, just tilted his head enough to look at you upside down. His blond hair was slightly damp, strands falling messily over his forehead. He was wearing a black tank that clung to him in all the unfair ways, silver bracelets catching the light as he adjusted his grip on the bar above him. “Come here, baby,” he said, grinning.
You stepped closer, squinting your eyes at him suspiciously. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” he asked innocently.
You snorted softly. “Like you’re about to commit a crime.”
He laughed, shoulders shaking faintly. “Okay, listen. I have an idea.” That alone made you snort even louder. Chan lifted his phone and held it out toward you. “Stand here,” he shifted slightly, spreading his legs just enough to indicate the space between them, “And take the picture from up there.”
You blinked at him. “So it looks like you took it in the mirror?” you asked.
His eyes lit up. “Exactly.”
You covered your mouth, already laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But am I wrong?” he countered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
You shook your head, but you stepped between his legs anyway, carefully positioning yourself so you didn’t bump the bar. From this angle, the mirror above would perfectly frame him: his broad shoulders against the bench, his arms flexed subtly just from holding his phone steady, the tank hugging his torso in a way that felt almost unfair. “Okay,” you muttered, trying to sound professional. “Hold still.”
Chan relaxed his head back against the bench, jawline sharp under the light. He adjusted his grip on his phone, bracelets sliding down his wrist, then gave you a faint, teasing look. “Do I look strong?” he asked softly.
You scoffed. “You are strong.”
“I meant aesthetically,” he smirked.
You rolled your eyes, but your gaze lingered. From up here, he looked unreal. Pretty in that effortless way he always was. His soft lips curved in a half-smile, his eyes warm and playful, hair tousled from sweat. The ceiling lights caught the gold tones in his hair, and the angle made him look both powerful and boyishly proud of himself at the same time…You forgot to press the button.
“Are you taking it?” he teased.
“Shut up,” you mumbled, finally snapping the photo as he winked up at you. The click echoed softly in the room.
Chan immediately sat up just enough to peer at the screen, crowding closer to you. His shoulder brushed yours, warm and solid. “Let me see.” You handed him the phone, trying very hard not to think about how close you were standing between his legs. His eyes widened. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Told you,” you said, crossing your arms.
He looked up at you, a grin spreading slowly. “You’re a genius.”
“You’re welcome.”
He held the phone up again, glancing at the picture one more time, then back at you. His smile softened, just a little. “You were staring,” he added quietly.
You blinked. “I was not.”
“You were.”
You huffed, stepping back. “You just look nice, okay?”
Chan’s expression shifted into something less teasing, somehow more fond. “Nice?”
You rolled your eyes again, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Very nice.”
He leaned back on his hands, still sitting on the bench, gaze following you. There was something warm in his eyes now, something that had nothing to do with gym lighting or clever camera angles. “Well,” he said softly, voice lower now. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around for future photoshoots.”
“Oh, you'll keep me around for much more than that,” you smirked knowingly as he sat up fully. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in close and burying his face in your stomach for a moment. Your hand gently sank into his hair, fingers massaging his scalp automatically.
Chan's head tilted back, glancing up at you. His ridiculously soft brown eyes met yours, and a lazy smile spread on his lips. “I missed you.”
“You always miss me,” you grinned. “You’ve only been gone for the weekend, Channie love.”
A soft pout settled on his lips. “What kind of dumb reason is that? Of course, I'll always miss you,” he told you, hands gently finding the back of your thighs, fingers spreading as he gently fondled your legs. His eyes grew heavy as he studied your face, something darker creeping in. “Missed you so fucking much, baby.”
“You mean you missed fucking me?” you asked knowingly, pulling a boyish grin from him so easily.
“What if I said yes?” Chan asked softly. “What if I told you I miss the feeling of being buried inside you, feeling you clench around me, and hearing those pretty little moans?”
You lowered yourself into his lap, smiling at him. “Then I'd tell you I'm feeling quite empty still, even though your dick is even less tucked away in those cursed grey sweatpants than usually.”
Chan's lips met yours with haste, clashing against them. His arm settled around your waist, his other hand fondling up your side, slipping beneath your shirt. You gasped into the kiss at the feeling of his hands against your skin. His finger barely traced the hem of your bra, a soft groan rising from his chest. “Ride me?”
You chuckled, humming softly against his lips. “Is that a good time to put on Railway, Mr. Brace yourself, take a seat?”
Chan's ears turned red, a giddy giggle leaving him. “Yeah? You think of that when you listen to it?”
“Oh, please, Channie, this song is based on our time in Milan,” you laughed, earning another giggle from him.
Chan hummed softly, hands running up and down your thighs again. His lips traveled down your neck, fingers gently tugging at the hem of your sweatpants. “Let me help you?” You grinned and stood back up, letting him tug off your sweatpants, stepping out of them with ease. His hands roamed your skin almost immediately again, eyes taking in every detail. Back in his lap, his fingers ghost against your clothed core, drawing a soft sound from you. “May I?” he asked softly, and you nodded, gasping as his fingers gently tugged your panties aside and slipped between your folds.
All these years, and he still asked like it was the first time. He still looked at you in wonder, his fingers still mapped out every inch of your body like they hadn't done so before countless times. And god, this man always took his time, no matter how much he needed you.
Chan gave you a gentle warning before his finger pushed inside you, stretching you ever so gently. He smiled at the soft gasp that left you, his hand soothingly caressing your hip. It didn't take long until he deemed you ready, fingers stretching you perfectly.
You tugged off your panties, dropping them to the floor next to your sweatpants. Chan shuffled down his own and his boxers, lying back down. His hands found your hips as you scooted forward and braced yourself on his chest. Chan reached down between your bodies, carefully dragging the tip through your folds, bumping against your clit, which made you bite back a moan. “Relax for me, beautiful,” Chan told you before carefully pushing inside.
A low moan fell from your lips as you sank down on him, fingers curling against his chest. “God, Channie,” you moaned as you were fully seated on him.
Chan's grip on your hip grew tight, but that was the only sign of his own impatience. “You feel so good around me, baby,” he told you with a sweet smile.
You leaned down, brushing your lips against his slowly. Your foreheads touched, breath mingling, the earlier teasing melting into something softer. He always did this. No matter how worked up he was, he would slow down the moment he saw that look in your eyes. “You’re so unfair,” you murmured, fingers sliding up into his hair. “Looking at me like that.”
He huffed a quiet laugh against your mouth. “Like what?”
“Like you’re in love with me or something,” you teased.
He looked comically offended. “I am.”
Your hips moved experimentally, drawing a breathy sound from him. His head tipped back against the bench for a second, biting his lower lip to hold back the groan leaving him.
“Don’t hide from me, love,” you whispered.
“I’m not,” he answered softly. “I just…I really missed you.” You rolled your hips again, gentler this time, and his hands tightened reflexively before relaxing, thumbs tracing slow circles into your skin. His jaw clenched briefly, but his eyes stayed warm. “The weekend felt longer without you,” he admitted.
You smiled down at him, brushing your nose against his. “Dramatic.”
“Just honest,” he corrected. You began moving properly now, slowly and unhurried, setting a rhythm that deepened his breathing. His hands guided you without forcing, as if he were learning you all over again. The teasing faded again as the pace deepened slightly, your movements growing more instinctive. His voice dropped, rougher now, but still gentle. “You’re okay?”
“Yeah,” you breathed. One of his hands left your hip to cradle your face instead, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. The intimacy of it made your chest tighten. Even like this, especially like this, he treated you like something precious. Your rhythm faltered slightly as you leaned into his touch, kissing him again, slower this time.
Chan moaned softly, fingers digging deeper into your skin. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” he breathed out hoarsely. “Can I take off your shirt?” he asked sweetly, and you let him do as he pleased. The way his eyes met yours right after you knew exactly what he wanted and gave him an encouraging smile. Still steadying you with one hand, Chan's other moved behind you, unclasping your bra with a swift movement.
His head dipped, plush lips traveling over your skin. The teasing edge from earlier had melted completely; what remained was slow affection. His mouth pressed gentle kisses along your collarbone and down the curve of your chest. You inhaled sharply when his breath fanned across sensitive skin, fingers tightening in his hair. “Channie…”
He hummed against you, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. One hand stayed firm on your hip, grounding you, while the other traced lazy patterns along your back. He wasn’t trying to overwhelm you; he was savoring every piece of you. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured quietly, lips brushing your skin between words.
You laughed breathlessly. Your hips moved again, slow and rolling, drawing a strained exhale from him. Chan's hands guided you a little more firmly now, helping you set a steady rhythm. His breathing deepened, chest rising beneath your palms. You leaned down to kiss him, your tongues brushing, lips parting lazily, both of you smiling into it.
“Missed this,” he confessed against your mouth.
“Missed you,” you answered gently.
His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer so there was barely any space left between your bodies. He pressed his forehead to yours again, eyes soft despite the heat building between you. “Love you so much, baby,” he whispered against your lips.
“Love you too, Channie dear,” you whispered back, kissing him lovingly. “Now let me take care of you,” you told him. You pulled back then, bracing yourself on his chest and picking up the pace.
Chan moaned below you, hands gripping your skin firmly. “Fuck, you're so pretty,” he moaned, his eyes darting as if he were unsure where to look first.
“Want me to go faster?” you asked breathlessly, and Chan nodded with a low whine. You picked up the pace once again, your skin meeting his forcefully.
Chan's head dropped back against the bench, eyes pressing closed for a mere second before he forced them back open to not miss a single second. “Shit, baby, you feel so good,” Chan moaned out shamelessly. “Taking me so well.”
You circled your hips, drawing out a low groan from him. His hand fondled up your thigh before his thumb found your clit, rubbing soft circles against it. Your hips stuttered with a whine, lashes fluttering with pleasure. “Shit, Channie, don’t stop,” you begged him softly.
Chan smiled, sitting up fully again and making you moan softly at the change of the angle. His arm wrapped around you to keep you in place, lips finding yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers slipping into his hair with ease. “Wouldn’t even think of it,” he promised with a soft giggle, his thumb working your clit perfectly.
Chan’s head dips down, lips wrapping around your nipple with a soft groan. You moaned out at the extra stimulation, your cheek pressing against his hair. Chan’s hips twitched as you started clenching around him, your stomach tightening at your nearing release. Your hips stuttered, as if your body didn’t know which sensation to chase first. The grip in his hair tightens, drawing soft grunts from Chan. “Channie,” you whined in need.
Chan pulled back almost immediately and lowered you onto the bench instead. His lips found yours in a heated kiss as he started thrusting into you steadily, one hand braced against the bench, the other still circling your clit. You tugged at his tanktop and he quickly pulled it off, throwing it onto the ground. “Fuck, Y/nnie,” he panted softly against your lips, and that’s when you got an idea.
You guided his face down to your neck, his lips immediately worshipping your skin there, kissing and nibbling at it softly. Your hand fumbled for your phone on the floor, opening your camera, the other lovingly tugging at Chan’s hair. You start a video and direct the camera at the mirror above you, groaning softly at the sight of you.
His hips met yours steadily, his strong back perfectly displayed in the mirror. You moaned softly as he hit the perfect spot, wrapping your legs around his waist and meeting his thrusts eagerly. You soon ended the video, knowing he’d love seeing it, and dropped the phone back on the floor, your fingers digging into his back. “Channie, I’m close,” you moaned needily, your walls fluttering around him.
Chan groaned against your skin, nibbling at your neck. “It’s okay, baby, let go,” he told you softly, his own thrusts stuttering. “I’ve got you, baby, you did so well, come on, my sweet girl,” he rambled on breathlessly, moaning shamelessly as you clenched around him.
A loud moan of his name left your lips, thighs shaking as your orgasm washed over you full force. You tugged on his hair, whimpering in relief when he stilled inside you, painting your walls with a sinful groan. He pulled you back up and fell down against the bench himself, pulling you on top of him, as if he’d been afraid to put all his weight onto you. You sighed happily and collapsed against his chest, panting softly.
A happy giggle left Chan, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “You’ll always be my favorite workout routine,” he teased you.
“Dummy,” you smirked happily, thinking of the video you took earlier. You’d keep that for the perfect occasion to send to him, then.
MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES
Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):
⚠ — (Non-exhaustive, full cw policy here): Down horrendous Hyunjin agenda™, sex with other people present in the room, objectification, getting tattooed during questionable activities (m), yandere undertones, recreational drug use, strong language, explicit sexual content.
➥ You never take it seriously when your die-hard fan crassly hits on you after every show, but when you decide to indulge his relentless catcalling for once, things take a wild turn.
*a/n: Back on my Derangedjin bullshit because an-dom. Enjoy~
The energy in the palm-sized venue was fucking nuclear.
The very last song of the setlist. Changbin was having a physical altercation with his drum set, his fast-paced double kicks morphing the front of the stage into a miniature mosh pit. Jisung was belting notes so high that all the bottles at the bar were threatening to explode. You and Chris were about to merge into a single entity, borderline straddling each other’s legs as you murdered that outro solo to the violent strums of his Gibson.
And it seemed to excite someone in the audience almost to the point of an orgasm.
“FUCKING STEP ON ME!!!”
The scream was so loud that you heard it even through the deafening noise, and it cracked you the fuck up in the middle of the song.
It was the guy who came to every single one of your shows without fail. Always clad in blacks, always right by your feet no matter which side of the stage you were on, entirely swept up in the frenzy of your anarchy anthems, running so hot and drenched in sweat as if he came out of a steamy shower five minutes ago. You didn’t understand why he kept wearing that massive leather jacket with chains everywhere; he was going to rip it off himself ten seconds into the first song anyway.
It wouldn’t be right to call him just a fan at this point; he was more like a hypeman working for free. With every song, he would galvanize the crowd into such an uproar that everyone passing by the club would be consumed by their curiosity, dying to know just what the hell was happening inside. Those were the nights Seungmin’s capitalist ass would triple the drink prices and proudly bounce people with an excessively smug “We’re at capacity.”
“Thank you for coming out tonight. You guys are fucking amazing!”
Once Jisung concluded the show, you threw your pick at the audience to cause small-scale mayhem, then headed backstage for some much-needed unwinding, though something else had arrived in the green room before you did. Two bottles of obscenely expensive champagne and a little note were waiting for you among half-finished glasses, a few white lines, and tiny dunes of weed.
I just know this is what you taste like.
You were wonderful tonight, beautiful.
H.
“Your fanboy is at it again,” Changbin slapped a shit-eating grin on his face while lighting up the massive joint between his lips. “Just let the poor guy hit that one time so he doesn’t choke on his own drool.”
“Do I look like I hand out pussy for those in need?” you stared daggers at him.
“My hardest orgasms were with die-hard fans. They let you do pretty much anything. I say go for it,” Jisung declared, successfully making a compelling case. “Bro ripped his tank while surfing the crowd, and half the room came just by looking at his body. Even I got a semi, like, holy fuck.”
“Nah, I know this kind. They just collect stage pussy,” you poured four flutes’ worth of champagne into a comically large coffee mug. “You know that insane thing where fans expect the artists they like to stay single? I expect the same thing, too. If you stan me, you stan me, motherfucker. None of that multifandom shit.”
“Congratulations, you just unlocked a brand-new level of possessiveness, and that’s coming from me,” Chris deadpanned, grabbing the champagne from you to directly chug it from the bottle.
“We go on stage to feel like gods, and you’re surprised I want worshippers?” you arched a brow. “Fuck, we’re out of rolling paper. I’ll be right back.”
You went back out into the crowd and scanned the area to spot Seungmin. He was making a complete show of mixing drinks for the two girls before him, coincidentally the hottest ones in the club, most likely trying to chat his way up to a threesome under the guise of customer service. As soon as you made it to the bar, however, an all-too-familiar voice reached your ears before you could catch your plug’s attention.
“Just tell me what I gotta do to eat your pussy. I’m dying over here!”
Right on schedule.
Your resident fanboy and his entourage were high as kites, the space before them stacked with hard liquor and all kinds of questionable substances. He did this after every concert like clockwork, so much so that you knew the choreography of your little dance by heart by now. He would say some unhinged shit, you would snort in amusement, maybe even spare a chuckle if the catcall of the day was deranged enough, but that was it. Your semi-parasocial interactions never went past a loud whistle and thirst comments as you walked by.
You decided to choose violence tonight.
“Blow him,” you pointed at Seungmin.
Lips parted in surprise, he turned to his sidekicks to confirm he wasn’t hallucinating, in utter disbelief that you actually answered him for once. Nevertheless, he was quick to bounce back, gesturing Seungmin to come closer like he was about to gladly add one more zero to his tab.
“How do you wanna do this, Min?” he leaned into the bar. “Do you want me to get back there, or…?”
You burst out laughing, and despite having zero cracks on his sultry poker face, you could still see something in his eyes. A bit dangerous, like the fire you knew you shouldn’t be playing with. Your feet moved on their own, carrying you towards him, and each step you took fanned those flames a bit more.
“Fucking scram,” he ordered the small crowd around him in what he thought was an inaudible volume.
“Hey there, crazy dude,” you rested your elbow on the bar counter.
“You finally noticed me,” he flashed the most satisfied smirk.
“Noticed you?” you contorted your face. “Do we have a senpai situation going on here?”
“No, but if you didn’t pay attention to me any longer, I was about to enter yandere simulator territory.”
Due to the untimely demise of his tank, he was currently covered with the infamous leather jacket from the waist up. Well, covered would be an overstatement since the zipper was pulled all the way down, perfectly framing his bare torso. He reached inside his jacket to fish for something, and you suspected he might have been carrying that around for a questionably long period of time.
You know, just in case.
“Can I get an autograph?” he handed you a Sharpie.
“Do you have any merch on you?”
“Yes.”
He sat upright on the stool and flashed his ri–di–cu–lous–ly stunning physique so you could properly gawk at it.
“Sign my abs.”
“WHAT?” you wheezed your lungs out.
“Can you think of any merchandise better than this?” he made his point, entirely serious. “Sign my abs. I’m gonna get it tattooed.”
“You’re fucking crazy.”
“What was your first clue?”
You took the marker from him and checked him out from head to toe. Whenever you saw him in the audience, he was just a face in a sea of darkness, though a noticeably handsome one, but if you knew it was attached to this, you would have paid attention to him a lot sooner.
“You know,” you placed a finger on his chest, dragging it down to his abdomen excruciatingly slowly. “I think I’d rather lick stuff off of these than sign it.”
Shoot him with a fucking horse tranquilizer, why don’t you?
He thickly swallowed, his throat drying up at record speed. Maybe he had gotten a bit too high, and the excess adrenaline was making him hallucinate things.
And if that was really the case, he would deplete his entire stash right now just so he would never ever come down.
“Do whatever you want to me,” he spoke in a single breath, staring at your lips like he was hypnotized, “but I’m still gonna need that autograph.”
“What for?”
“How else am I gonna forge our marriage certificate?”
“You know it’s not my actual signature, right?”
“Who cares? I’ll argue you changed it after you took my last name.”
He was allegedly joking, but it was one of those “HAHA, just kidding. Unless…?” ones. He really looked like he would come with you if you asked him to go to a 24/7 chapel right now.
You indulged his request, but instead of his abs, you signed the left side of his chest. As you moved the pen on his firm skin, you could feel how rabid his heart was under your touch, even though it was supposed to be five beats per second for how mellowed out he was.
“There,” you put the cap back on, moving even closer with the excuse to put the pen back into his pocket. “Now you can get it properly tattooed.”
“Couldn’t ask for a better location,” he heaved a deep sigh.
You were so close to each other. From such proximity, the heat exuding from his body felt like a desert storm, and despite the grassy scent of weed pervading the entire room, he smelled so good that your mind was getting infested with the urge to run your tongue on his neck just to taste it.
“Mind if I shotgun you?” he reached for his joint.
You slowly nodded.
He emptied his lungs and took the longest drag you saw anyone take, almost smoking the whole thing in a single breath, then gently pulled you in from your chin. You wondered if heart palpitations were somehow contagious because the closer he leaned in, the faster your pulse was climbing. You couldn’t help your eyes fluttering close as he breathed your high into your lungs, so damn slowly to complete the seconds of being this close to you into a full minute.
An itch was begging to be scratched inside your head.
There was nothing stopping you from moving just one inch further. Nothing keeping you from frying this guy’s brain completely. He had earned a bit of fanservice credit for his relentless dedication to you, no?
You suddenly pressed your lips against his, and that full-body shiver he was possessed by was everything.
He slipped his tongue in your mouth almost instantly, swirling it around yours in such a familiar choreography as if you’d been kissing each other for years. You threw your arms around his neck while he wrapped his around your waist, pondering whether you should make him beg you or have him finger you right here for everyone to watch. Or maybe there was a secret third option.
When you finally pulled away, you were stupidly smiling at each other, high as hell on the kiss more than the weed.
“Bet I taste better than the champagne, huh?” you smirked contently.
“By a landslide,” he acknowledged.
“What are you doing at a trashy club like this every damn week?” you asked, your brows knit together.
“I don’t have a choice,” he shrugged. “You only play at the trashy club.”
“You drink Macallan. This jacket is fucking Versace. Where you belong is one of those cigar lounges downtown,” you observed. “What do you even do for a living?”
“Why? Gonna look into my credit score?”
“If we’re getting fake-married, I wanna know what I’m getting myself into.”
He laughed but didn’t answer, and unfortunately for you, you might be getting more and more intrigued by the mystery man.
“This is gonna sound a bit too forward, but,” he segued into an offer, barely stopping himself from melting into a puddle while moving the stray locks away from your face, “care to join me in the back room?”
“You know about the back room?” you asked with a smile.
“Considering the hefty tabs I regularly pick up, I technically co-own the damn place,” he derisively chuckled. “Figured we should… consummate our marriage.”
You laughed but didn’t answer. Your hands on his collar, you slowly peeled him off the stool he was perched on, then led the way to the back.
After going through a bunch of claustrophobic corridors hand-in-hand, you finally reached the heavy iron door. You slid it open with a jarring rattle, the dim red lights illuminating the place beckoning you to come in. There was a free-for-all already in progress inside, thick smoke floating in the air, naked bodies tangled into each other on what looked like opium den beds. You spotted your bandmates scattered around the room, too engrossed in their own post-show rituals to notice your arrival. Chris getting his dick sucked. Changbin with a bombshell bouncing on his cock. Jisung dining on some girl’s cunt. And a whole new set of strangers you had never seen before as the backdrop of this cave of sin. Touching. Kissing. Fucking.
And everything in between.
You found yourselves a corner and sat down. Your guest was being needlessly polite, lighting up your joint for you and doing a terrific job hiding how much he was drooling over you. His courteous antics when there was an active orgy going on right before you were amusing, to say the least.
But then you noticed something strange.
“Your usual, Hyunjin,” Seungmin put down a glass of scotch, a small bowl of fruit, and a glass of wine on the miniature table before you. “And yours, beautiful.”
Half the room was staring in your direction, but they weren’t looking at you. They were looking at the man next to you the way starving hyenas would look at their prey.
Your instincts suddenly went into overdrive.
You climbed on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck as if to slap a label on him that said ‘This one’s bespoke to me.’
“Hyunjin,” you ran your fingers through his soft locks. “So that’s your name, crazy dude.”
“And now you can moan it,” he lovingly brushed your cheek with the back of his fingers, his other arm hugging your waist.
He examined every single detail on your face, sighing longingly. He didn’t kiss you, but he seemed to be doing a lot more than kissing in his mind, sinking his teeth into his lips as his fingers slid down to your neck. Then your collarbones. Then your chest. He didn’t know shit about you, but he looked so enamored with you. He didn’t give a fuck about the porn playing before his eyes and instead had complete tunnel vision on you.
What the hell was wrong with this man?
You turned to your left to check the room’s pulse, and you could see the envy blaring out of people’s eyes. They all wanted him and were trying to choke you to death through Jedi mind tricks for blocking the tantalizing view.
“Shh, look at me,” he gently held your chin and turned you to himself. “Only me.”
What the hell was wrong with you for enjoying it this fucking much?
“I’ve seen a few hardcore fans to date, but no one as persistent as you,” you plucked a grape from the bowl and fed it to him like a concubine entertaining her king. “Just why are you this obsessed with me?”
“You just don’t give a fuck, and I find that very attractive,” he answered, stealing a subtle lick from your fingers as he bit on the fruit. “What’s wrong with that?”
“So my fishnets got nothing to do with it?”
He looked down at the stockings wrapping your thighs like the perfect Christmas gift for him. His breathing turned heavier while softly caressing your legs, his jaw slightly clenched like he was trying to suppress something.
“Watching you play is straight up porn to me. I can’t stay soft when you do your solos,” he replied. “I mean, I can’t deny that there is a certain image that pops into my head when I jerk off, no disrespect.”
“Which one?”
“The Fender photoshoot. If I ever see you lick a fretboard like that for real, I’ll fucking cum on the spot,” he responded a bit too candidly. “It’s two of my biggest turn ons in one.”
“Which would be?”
“You and a custom-built Strat.”
“No shit. You play?” you smiled at him, pleasantly surprised.
“Your toes would curl if you saw what I can do with a guitar.”
“I’d rather have you do other things to make my toes curl.”
You hit a long drag from your joint and leaned into his lips, shotgunning him this time. He was melting under you, body going limp with each inhale, but something on your hips was rock hard.
“Then the million-dollar question,” you put out the cigarette and started playing with his hair. “Who else are you fanboying this hard over?”
“No one.”
“You seriously expect me to believe that?”
“Would the shrine I have of you be enough evidence of my dedication?”
“Yeah, I’m sure you have one,” you scoffed, your lazy chuckle laced with pure disdain.
He pulled out his phone and showed you a picture. It was taken at nighttime in what you assumed to be his bedroom. The photo was showing his illuminated nightstand with the aforementioned Fender picture framed, you all naked with just the guitar censoring your body as the focal point, and several guitar picks placed in front of it with OCD-like neatness. You recognized each one of those as the ones you threw at the audience during various shows thanks to their distinct colors.
“I’ll have you know I pray to this every night,” he pulled something metallic from his inner pocket and flashed it. The very pick you flung from the stage tonight.
Seriously?
“What are you praying for?”
“To kiss these,” he brushed his thumb on your lips.
“Just kiss?”
He briefly averted his eyes with a smile, licking his lips at whatever he was imagining in his head.
“It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to reveal the full scope.”
“Get that tattooed for real first,” you ran your fingers on your autograph. “Then you can treat me like your personal pornstar.”
“Is that your only condition?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “If I get it tattooed, you’ll let me…?”
“If you have the balls to actually do it, yes,” you confirmed.
He pulled out his phone again and called a number, not even searching for it in his contact list as if he had it on speed dial.
“Hey, I need you at 97 Park Boulevard within ten minutes,” he looked right into your soul while talking. “Bring your gear.”
He hung up the phone, and you just stared at him in shock. Did he just…? Call a tattoo artist here? Like he was ordering pizza?
What an insane man. What an insane you because why the fuck were you enjoying this so much?
“You are fucking crazy,” you iterated your first impression of him.
“What was your first clue?”
“What if I’m crazier?”
He kissed your hand almost gallantly, like a lover of many many years would do, the contentment of his smile endlessly titillating to witness.
“God, I fucking hope you are,” he held your chin and pulled you close.
The kiss quickly deepened, turning a bit more ferocious this time with bites on lips and too much groping. You slipped your hand inside his jacket and cascaded it off his shoulders, groaning at the sight of his nakedness. Maybe Jisung was right because just looking at him made you salivate, and you felt like you had a wish-granting genie at your disposal.
If you played your cards right, tonight could be one for the books.
When you finally managed to pull away from each other, Hyunjin spotted his person of interest by the door and raised his hand to signal his location. The tatted-up guy slammed his hand into his friend’s as if they were at a frat reunion instead of an orgy.
“Chase, this is the god I worship,” Hyunjin introduced you. “I need her in a… strategic position for this. Hope it’s not a problem.”
“Suit yourself. What are we getting today?”
“Something simple, already stenciled,” he showed his chest. “Ink this, and ink it deep.”
Nah.
You kept waiting for either of them to say sike, or ask you if you were going to stop them, but nothing was happening. Chase had his ink ready, and Hyunjin was getting comfortable with one arm tucked under his nape.
“You’re seriously going through with this?” you asked, still suspicious.
“Did you have doubts?”
“Kinda, yeah,” you confessed. “What strategic position am I supposed to be in?”
“Yeah, about that…” he grabbed your wrist and yanked you close. “You’re gonna sit on my face until this is done.”
“What?!”
“It’s a win-win,” he smiled devilishly. “I get the comfort, you get the pleasure. Maybe even cum.”
“You’re really crazy,” you broke into hysterical laughter, “and the tattoo was my first clue.”
You straddled his face, and Hyunjin’s breathing started getting labored. All he did was gawk at your underwear under your skirt, gulping at the sight of the wet trail, but when you put his hand on the fabric, he thought he was about to disintegrate into his atoms.
“Rip it off,” you ordered him firmly.
And rip it off he did.
Your pussy was staring at him, dripping wet, and he could choke on his own drool at this rate. He was repeatedly whispering “Thank you” against your cunt, and it was making your clit buzz harder than the tattoo gun.
“If I cum, just ignore it,” he addressed Chase, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pressing them down to make you sit lower.
Then he covered his mouth on your pussy, and you almost passed out.
You didn’t know what the correct feeling was. He was rabidly munching on your clit like you were oozing lidocaine, but his hands were lovingly caressing you. You found a steady rhythm riding his tongue, your body invaded by a surge of pleasure, but he kept interrupting it with kisses on your pussy, diabolically laughing every time you groaned in frustration.
“Done,” Chase spoke into your ear right before he left. “Be gentle with it.”
Hyunjin held on to your thighs for dear life when you attempted to get off him, loudly whining in protest.
“No, DON’T!” he pinned you in your place. “Don’t leave.”
“But I want to see it,” you tried to look back.
“Don’t leave,” he insisted, loudly slurping on your entrance. “Don’t leave. I’ve waited years for this!”
He started lapping at your clit much faster, stuffing his face with you out of sheer desperation. His makeout with your pussy was getting so sloppy that you could feel your thighs getting wet. It was as if the entire room suddenly went silent. All you could hear was the smack of his lips, his guttural moans, his unhinged encouragements to drown him in your cum and choke him between your legs. He reached for your tits and started fondling them, letting you ride his mouth however fast you wanted this time.
“Chain me to yourself. I fucking worship you.”
You exploded in his mouth, and everything went momentarily white, a sharp ringing echoing in your ears. You couldn’t control how deep your moans were coming from, all deep and throaty as your whole body peaked, your orgasm hitting straight to the roof of your head. You couldn’t tell how long you rode out that high, but you were exhausted when you finally managed to come down, limp legs fully giving out as you collapsed next to Hyunjin. He hovered over you and held one of your hands, pressing it over the clear film on his chest. And you finally saw it in its full glory.
Motherfucker actually got your autograph tattooed.
“Do you still have any doubts?” he asked, kissing all over your face.
You gently caressed his tattoo, breaking into a satisfied smile. You slid your hands down to the waistband of his jeans and tugged on it, silently asking him to take them off. He looked absolutely delicious, huge girth, rock hard, leaking with his arousal. You wrapped your legs around him, made him palm himself and press his cock against your oozing hole, salivating just at the thought of him stretching you.
“If I see you so much as tweet about some other bitch,” you spoke softly as if you were reciting love poems to him, sneakily tangling your fingers around the chain of his necklace, then harshly yanked him down, “I will find you, and I will kill you.”
“Fucking marry me,” he growled through his teeth, not even the least bit joking.
He sank into you with a thrust so sharp that you arched in your place, your eyes widened with the impact. The harder he fucked you, the more he was losing himself, trading his sanity for the ecstasy consuming him faster than he could have foreseen, but he…
…didn’t…
…fucking…
…care…
…anymore.
This was it. This was the moment.
All these years spent watching you from afar…
All the people he had to bribe…
All the gigs he had to sabotage…
All the kills he had to order…
For this moment.
Right here.
Right now.
Deep inside his god.
Becoming completely hers.
“You know they’re watching us,” he maniacally laughed. “They wish they were us. They wish they were me, but they will never know what it feels like to fuck you.”
“W–Why?”
“Do you really wanna know the answer?”
You smiled at him so brightly that Hyunjin thought he had finally lost it.
You trapped him in your leglock, held onto his shoulders, and just admired the way he heavily panted over you, kissing your wrists, frantically fucking you like he was being chased. He was losing his grip on reality one push at a time. He just could not control the deranged confessions he was making back to back, and when he thought he was done for, you were actually throbbing harder around him. You were moaning louder. You were breathing faster. You were looking into his eyes way too fondly, and if you didn’t cut it out right fucking now, he was going to believe that—
“I love you, Hyunjin.”
He came so hard that his moans were suddenly silenced like they were cut with a knife, crawling out of his own body as he drained himself into you. His face was all contorted, half in narcotic pleasure and half in something you couldn’t quite decipher, and if this was what joy was, Hyunjin had never felt joy before. If this was what pleasure was, he had never felt pleasure before. But he knew he felt love. He had felt it since the day he saw you at the record store buying your first guitar.
But when post-nut clarity hit him like a truck, a sense of acute dread settled in his chest.
“That was uh… er erhm…” he cleared his throat. “That was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. You know that, right?”
“Likewise. What happens inside me, stays inside me,” you brushed his damp locks with your fingers. “But I don’t think it will kill us to spoon.”
He flashed you a fatigued smile and kissed all over your shoulders as you turned your back to him, as though you were about to bask in some wholesome afterglow in the privacy of your own bedroom. His warmth enveloped you like a comfort blanket, and you felt his nose in the crook of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent and humming happily.
You wondered if Hyunjin would cry tears of happiness if you showed him the room at your place, walls filled to the brim with the photos you’d been taking of him for the past five years.
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A/N: I'm happy to finally bring you chapter two! It has been a while so skim through chapter one again if you need to 😅. Also want to clarify "Lee Know" is used for past tense and "Minho" for present on purpose. Until she's "close enough" to learn his real name. Not sure if that caused any confusion previously.
Word Count: 3.7k
Genre: Crime, dark romance, angst, love triangle
Warnings: Drug use 🍃
[ fic master list ]
[ my master list ]
Summary: You’ve loved Minho since the moment you met him. He's dangerous, untouchable and yours. You've been with him through it all—the blood, chaos, and the rise of SKZ. But when Chan comes back into your life, carrying the badge that could bring everything crashing down, you’re forced to face the question: who are you willing to sacrifice everything for?
Chapter Two:
THEN
Changbin, Hyunjin and Lee Know were in a bubble of ease as the late-night joy ride continued. Although your tears had stopped, the bubble still didn’t quite extend to your seat in the back. Part of you was still expecting red and blue lights to flare in the distance, but none came.
It wasn’t surprising, though. This deep in the Gulch, law enforcement was scarce. What point was there in policing a place that fed on its own chaos?
“We have to make a stop,” Lee Know said as the car slowed across from a nightclub. “Then we’ll get your cake.”
“That’s not really necessary,” you protested, shaking your head.
“You already had one today?” he asked.
You shook your head again.
“Then it is. Sit tight—Hyunjin stay with her. Changbin, come with me.”
Changbin and Lee Know climbed out and jogged across the street. Instead of heading for the front entrance, they cut down the alley to the rear.
Inside the car, Hyunjin flicked a lighter. A joint balanced between his lips, the flame lit up his face with its orange glow for a brief second. He inhaled and rolled down the window, letting the blaring music from the club seep in before exhaling slowly. He offered it to you.
“No thanks,” you said.
He didn’t pressure you further. He seemed pretty easy going. These boys were so intriguing, but you still didn’t know what to make of them. They saved you…stole a car…now two of them were doing god knows what inside of that nightclub. And they intended to get you a fucking birthday cake?
“You sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked after a beat. “After all that?”
“Yeah. I just panicked. I couldn’t get to my knife at first and then when I had it in my hand…” you trailed off. “I don’t know what I would have done if Lee Know hadn’t stepped in.”
“You would have done what you needed to eventually.” He said, holding in his drag for a long moment before letting it go. “Try keeping your blade in your front pocket.”
He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a butterfly knife. Its metal glinted in the light, shimmering in colors you hadn’t seen on a weapon—it reminded you of oil slick on asphalt. He flipped it open with a practiced motion and the handles clicked together. The blade itself caught the light even more sharply, a rainbow edge that looked beautiful, right up until you remembered what it could do. What he may have used it for.
He rolled the knife over his knuckles, fluid and precise, like it held no weight.
“Easier to access when you need it,” he said, eyes flicking to yours as he held it out to you.
You took the blade in hand, marveling at the colors. You flipped it open and close a few times.
“You should switch to something like that,” he suggested.
“I’d probably stab myself playing with it before actually injuring someone else,” you replied, handing it back to him.
Hyunjin laughed, putting the joint out in the ashtray. He fiddled with the radio, connected a phone adapter, and soon the car filled with Youth by Troye Sivan.
The irony. An anthem to youth. You were living yours technically, but it didn’t feel like it. No college plans. No big dreams. Just the certainty that no one expected much from you.
Two figures emerged from the alley—Changbin and Lee Know were back. Lee Know had a black duffel bag slung over his shoulders. They got back in the car and Lee Know passed the bag up to Hyunjin who placed it at his feet.
“Everything good?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin answered.
You nodded, sitting back as Changbin took off to the next destination—a grocery store. One of the few still open this late. Lee Know and Hyunjin got out this time, leaving you alone with Changbin.
“Are they really getting a cake?” you asked, meeting his gaze in the rearview. “You guys really don’t need to do that.”
Changbin shrugged it off. “How old are you turning?”
“Eighteen.”
“Same as Lee Know,” he commented.
“What about you and Hyunjin?”
“We’re seventeen,” he told you.
That seemed far too young for them to be participating in such activities, but it wasn't out of the ordinary for this part of town. Up until now, you'd managed to keep to yourself so much that you’d never been dragged into any of it.
A brief silence filled the car as you mulled over the questions you really wanted to ask.
“Do you all do this often?” you finally blurted out.
“Do what?”
“Save a random girl and buy her a birthday cake.”
He turned halfway in the seat to face you. “Do you hate cake or something?”
You chuckled. “No, it’s just…I don’t understand why you’re all being so nice to me.”
“Why not?”
You furrowed your brow. It was such a simple question, but you weren’t sure how to answer it. Perhaps it had something to do with not feeling like you’d ever deserved anyone’s kindness.
“What about hotwiring cars and driving around like it’s normal—you guys do that a lot?”
“We take what we need when we need it,” he said, matter-of-fact. “We’ll leave the car somewhere close to where we took it before morning. Lee Know will probably make us wash it and fill the tank, too.”
You frowned, trying to understand the logic. Stealing someone’s means of transportation—someone who probably needed it to get to work—shouldn’t be so casual. Even if they did plan on returning it. Did they not care how much it could impact or set the owner back?
Just as you were about to ask about the black duffel bag they retrieved, the other two returned. Changbin started the car and rolled back onto the road. Lee Know tossed you a wink and set a plastic bag at his feet, keeping it out of view.
As much as you wanted to reiterate that celebrating your birthday in any shape or form wasn't necessary, the sincerity of their actions warmed your heart.
The next stop was near a row of abandoned warehouses. Changbin cut the headlights and parked. Beyond the buildings, a train yard sprawled along the river. A forgotten edge of Miroh Valley most people never bothered to go.
Lee Know grabbed the bag at his feet and climbed out. “Come on,” he said, motioning for you to follow.
You trailed behind them, your worn out converse crunching on gravel, the air thick with a fresh rusted metallic scent from the rain that morning. You retrieved the switchblade from your back pocket and moved it to the front, heeding Hyunjin’s earlier words.
A railcar sat half-off the tracks, its surface covered in graffiti. Lee Know climbed into the open freight car first, setting the bag inside before offering you his hand. Hyunjin crouched and tapped his knee, wordlessly offering a boost.
You stepped up, took Lee Know’s hand, and let him pull you in.
Regardless of being in a stolen vehicle or on this abandoned railroad track at night, you hadn’t once felt in danger with these three men. Were you concerned about breaking the law? Sure. But they were so unbelievably at ease, it made you feel odd for even worrying.
Lee Know unwrapped the bag’s contents and revealed the cake—white frosting swirled with red and pink, strawberries lining the top. It looked too delicate in this place. But it made your heart flutter all the same. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had cake on your birthday.
Changbin snatched the candles from Lee Know.
“I know how many she needs,” he said.
He pressed them into the frosting one by one. You counted—eighteen, exactly.
“Should we sing?” Changbin asked.
“No,” you said quickly. “God, please don’t.”
“Alright then.” Lee Know lifted the cake, the tiny flames flickering against the dark. “Happy Birthday.”
“Happy Birthday,” Hyunjin and Changbin echoed.
“Make a wish,” Lee Know added.
You took a deep breath. What would you even wish for? There were too many things to wish for—new parents, a real home, a life that didn’t feel so insignificant. But you settled on something simpler.
Just to be in a better place a year from now.
You exhaled and blew out the candles, watching as the smoke curled upward before vanishing into the night.
Lee Know handed out plastic forks and they waited for you to take the first bite.
Your eyes widened as the sweetness hit your tongue. “It’s good.”
They grinned and dug in beside you. The four of you easily demolished half of the cake before long. Eventually, only Hyunjin and Changbin were still picking at it.
“I know my parents don’t give a shit about where I am,” you said quietly, staring down at the cake. “Where do yours think you all are right now?”
Hyunjin shrugged. “My mom’s too busy with her new boyfriend to notice I’m gone.”
Changbin smirked. “Mine are out of town, but I have no idea where.”
“My parents are dead,” Lee Know said softly, his gaze focused on the city lights in the distance. “Lived with my aunt for a while, but there were too many mouths to feed and not enough food. Figured I’d be better off on my own.”
You nodded slowly. Their stories weren’t anything out of the ordinary for people living in the Gulch. But that didn’t make them hurt to hear any less.
“I haven’t seen you around Levanter. What school do you guys go to?”
“None, if we could help it,” Hyunjin muttered.
“It’s almost summer boys. Two more months.” Lee Know encouraged them before answering your question. “We go to Truman High.”
“Didn’t that used to be a prison?” you asked.
“So they say,” Changbin replied. “I believe it. Bars on the windows and everything.”
“Only on the second floor,” Hyunjin added. “Supposedly to keep kids from jumping out of boredom.”
You laughed. “Why don’t you drop out then?”
Changbin jerked his head toward Lee Know. “He says we’d regret it. I think that fucker actually likes homework.”
Lee Know brushed it off. “You’ll thank me later.”
The trio remained as puzzling as ever. Given what they’d shown you of their life tonight, it didn’t seem like school would be priority. But, apparently, Lee Know ran a tight ship.
The drive home was relatively quiet save for when you gave Lee Know your number. They stopped in front of your apartment building as directed, headlights blaring into your neighbor’s window.
“Thank you guys, for everything.”
“Don’t mention it,” Lee Know said.
You exited the car, expecting them to drive off immediately. But they didn’t move until you unlocked the door and waved them off.
Inside, you leaned against the door, staring into the small, dark space you unfortunately called home.
Your phone buzzed.
Text us tomorrow after school.
Happy Birthday, y/n.
You smiled faintly. The cake had been cheap, the night reckless, and your apartment still as shitty as ever—but it was the best birthday you’d had in years.
NOW
A jean-clad, shirtless Minho leans against the bathroom counter, his defined abdomen on display. He remains still, watching silently as you toss the dried, bloodied gauze into the trash. You pull out a first aid-kit from beneath the sink and begin sorting through ointments and fresh wraps for the second morning in a row.
You nod toward the sink and turn on the tap. Minho turns and holds his hand beneath it. When the blood rinses away, a sharp gash emerges, red and raw against his skin.
“Do I want to know how this happened?” you ask.
“Do you?” he counters, arching a brow.
As much as they kept you in the dark about certain things now, he would tell you if you asked. But the truth is, sometimes you aren’t sure you want to know the answers. Not when it came to the kind of man he is becoming.
When you were younger, there had been fights here and there—mostly trivial scuffles. Nothing serious. But things changed once Minho and the others started making a name for themselves. The higher they climbed, the more dangerous it got. And other crews didn’t like how quickly they were rising, especially with someone as young as Minho at the helm.
“One of Shinee’s guys?” you ask, turning off the tap and grabbing the bottle of saline.
He nods once. “I didn’t start it—I only finished it.”
It’s what he’s always said, ever since you were kids. But lately, his definition of ‘starting it’ feels looser. Back then, it meant defending himself. Now, it could mean someone raising their voice. Disagreeing. Slipping up. Failing him.
You pat his hand dry and gently apply the ointment, then put on the fresh gauze with practiced ease. It’s not the first time you’ve done this, and it probably won’t be the last.
“All done.”
You start cleaning up the mess on the counter and can feel Minho’s eyes on you. You already know the look that’s on his face—a gentle smile reserved just for you, and those brown eyes radiating with warmth.
He places his hands on your hips and pulls you to him.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” he asks softly. “Thank you.”
“I’m just glad you’re ambidextrous.” You give him a quick peck. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”
He nuzzles your nose. “We might have to reschedule.”
“Please tell me you’re joking,” you whisper.
“I’ll clear my entire day for you tomorrow.”
You pull away, frowning.
“We have to take care of something tonight,” he says.
“Changbin and Hyunjin can’t handle it?”
“No—I need to be there for this exchange. But tomorrow is ours. I promise.”
A sudden realization hits. The suspicious behavior around his shed two nights ago during his birthday party. The injury to his hand. And now an exchange?
“Is there someone in the shed?” you ask plainly.
He nods slowly.
You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around you and holds you against him.
You lean back to look him in the eyes. “Are they alive?”
That sequence of questions has to be on a list of things no one wants to ask their fiancé.
“Yes.” He kisses the crook of your neck.
“Okay,” you nod, unhooking his arms from around you and stepping to the side.
“You’re mad?”
“I don’t have a reason to be mad. I’m just worried,” you shrug. “You said big changes are coming, and with that comes these type of risks you take. And the last time that happened you—”
“Don’t.” He cuts you off, tone sharp.
You press your lips firmly together and shake your head. He doesn’t like it when you bring that up. It’s a forbidden topic, buried six feet under. And he wants it to stay there.
“It’s not like that this time.”
“It better not be,” you lock eyes with him. “I told you I can not go through that again. I won’t.”
He steps behind you and slides his uninjured hand along your bare thigh. His feather-light touch sends heat straight between your thighs. He knows what his touch does to you. He knows just how to ease all the troubles from your mind. You place your hand on top of his to stop him.
“Okay, okay—read the room, I got it.” He turns you around to face him. “I really am sorry about dinner. I’m all yours tomorrow.”
“That’s if I still want you,” you retort haughtily.
He laughs. “I guess we’ll just have to see, then.” He takes his wallet out of his pocket and retrieves several hundred-dollar bills, placing them on the sink counter. “Take one of your co-workers out. My treat. Go see a show or something. Whatever you want.”
His gesture is meant to be thoughtful and sweet, you know that. But he doesn’t even realize you have no friends or co-workers you’re close enough with to invite out on a whim. It’s him and his world that consumes you.
But in the same vein, it’s a world he built to make sure you were taken care of.
“You can’t always throw money at me and think that solves everything.”
“I know,” he mutters. “But it’s a pretty decent Band-Aid, no?”
You slap his arm.
“Ya! I’m injured,” he holds up his bandaged hand. “Be careful.”
He uses that same ‘injured’ hand and hooks a finger under your chin, pulling your mouth to his for a quick kiss.
“I think you would have made a great doctor in another life.”
You shrug. “Maybe. But there’s a lot less blood in real estate so I’m okay with my current life.”
“Anything else about your current life that you prefer?”
“Hmmm.” You pretend to think about it before clicking your tongue. “Nope. Not that I can think of.”
He catches your eye in the mirror and flashes a playful, challenging look.
He knows damn well there’s more you love about your life now than the one you were barely surviving eight years ago. If it weren’t for him, you’d still be stuck in that same hell.
THEN
The intermittent thud of the kitchen cabinets woke you. Shut without a care for the fact that you were sleeping only a few feet away. You tugged the blanket over your head and shifted uncomfortably on the couch, its springs pressing into your back. A brief moment of silence passed, and you took a deep breath, hoping that was the end of it. But then the sharp clatter of silverware being tossed into the sink confirmed it was not.
“Seriously?” you mumbled to yourself, throwing the blanket off.
“What was that?” your mother called from the kitchen, her hearing as sharp as ever.
“Nothing.” You sat up with a heavy sigh, hair a mess, still half-asleep. You glanced at the time on the microwave—4:30am. “It would just be nice to sleep in for once.”
“I’m not going to tiptoe around you in my own home when I have to get ready for work.” She punctuated her foul mood with an intentional slam of the refrigerator door.
She said that as if it had been your decision to cram three people into a tiny one-bedroom apartment. As if it were your fault this is what had become of her life.
“Besides, you weren’t here last night, how was I supposed to know you bothered to come home?” she spat, as if she hadn’t seen you on the couch when she walked by. As if you were invisible.
You gritted your teeth behind lips pressed firmly together. But she didn’t need a response from you to continue her tirade.
Three months had passed since you met Lee Know, Changbin, and Hyunjin and not a day had gone by since that you weren’t with them. The night that stemmed from your altercation in the alley had never been brought up again, but you were certain you’d remember how you felt forever. Like you’d been found.
Being home, now, is what felt odd. Because spending time with them allowed you to see Miroh Valley through a different lens. Sure, they bent the law, sometimes broke it, but they had their own brand of ethics. The car they stole the night you met was returned—parked a few blocks from where they found it with a full tank of gas. Just like Changbin said.
Their lifestyle, while completely unconventional, also gave you a sense of comfort and freedom that you’d never experienced. They weren’t confined by the restraints of this city, The Gulch or the law.
It was admirable, in your eyes.
“And maybe you should start waking up this early,” your mom pressed on. “You turned eighteen three months ago. You’re old enough to get a summer job and help out instead of being a burden.”
This wasn’t a new conversation. With your mom working full-time and your stepdad milking his worker’s comp, you were the easiest target to take her frustrations out on.
“Your husband’s hand has been healed for months. He can go back to work and help out, too.”
She disregarded that. “You need to find a job, y/n. I mean it. You’re not going to keep living under our roof without contributing anything.”
The coffee pot dinged. She busied herself with pouring it into her to-go mug as you stood and folded the blankets you’d used. There was no use pretending you’d be able to go back to sleep.
“I’m hardly even here,” you bit back, pushing aside the growing ache in your chest that always surfaced in these moments.
“Maybe you should just leave then,” she said, snapping the lid onto her mug.
Your jaw dropped, but you quickly regained your composure. “Maybe I should.”
The silence after that cut deeper than the shouting.
It never felt like you belonged here. She never fought for you. Never came to your school events when you were younger. She never even seemed to notice whether you were or weren’t home. She didn’t have to say you were a burden when you’d lived your entire life already feeling like one.
She grabbed her purse from the counter and proceeded to the front door.
“I won’t be here when you get back," you said, trying to call her bluff.
But you should have known better.
“Good,” she called over her shoulder as she opened the door.
It closed with a sickening thud that resonated in the pit of your stomach. It’s not as if you were expecting her to plead with you to stay, or for your stepdad to rise from his drunken stupor and come to your defense. Hell would have frozen over before either of those things happened. But still, she was your mother. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least slightly hopeful for some kind of breakthrough.
You stumbled back, chest heaving, eyes prickling at the frustration and disappointment of it all. You’d dreamt of getting out of this house for so long but never had anywhere else to go.
Now, for the first time ever, you had a potential solution to that.
Lee Know, Changbin and Hyunjin had quickly become people you considered friends, and that wasn’t a title you often granted anyone. And you knew you could depend on them to pick you up when you were down.
You fished out your cellphone from between the decrepit couch cushions and hit dial on Lee Know’s number without a second thought to what time it was. He answered on the third ring, voice groggy from sleep, and the knot in your chest started to loosen.
A/N: Levanter...Truman High...SHINEE!? Just pulling things from any and everywhere for references. Though, with the vibe of Felix/Han's "Truman" I feel like it fits a school of baddies. The present and past tense story telling has been giving me a run for my money, for sure haha. I want to make sure the events in the past/present line up well enough for a solid chapter that remains as chronological as possible. As a heads up, our other male lead will be making an appearance soon 😉.
[ read chapter three here ] (coming soon)
— contains adult content, minors do not interact 🔞 —
[ abstract ]: He breaks up relationships, professionally. Lee Minho is the man people call when they wanna end things with their (not so) better half but don’t have the guts to do it. But everything changes, when he receives an offer from his former best friend and college roommate who needs desperate help to break up with his fiancée—you. However, this complicates everything. After all, you’ve been the only person that’s ever made Minho believe that true love might actually exist. So, what happens when you take the delivered message about the break up not so well and Minho—feeling guilty—offers you a place to stay, all while pushing away the feelings he’s had for you for years? ⛸️
[ parts ]: EP. 1 — YOU BROKE ME FIRST | EP. 2 — SECOND BEST | EP. 3 — FRIDAY I’M IN LOVE | EP. 4 — DRUNK DAZED | EP. 5 — SABOTAGE | EP. 6 — BAD COLD | EP. 7 — LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME | EP. 8 — MAN OF THE YEAR | EP. 9 — LOVE IS BANNED | EP. 10 — KISS ME MORE | EP. 11 — JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY | EP. 12 — THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY | EP. 13 — I WANNA BE YOURS | EP. 14 — NEVER LET ME GO | EP. 15 — SOFTCORE | EP. 16 — ETERNITY | EP. 17 — LET ME BREAK YOUR HEART AGAIN | EP. 18 — I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY | EP. 19 — ??? (tbd 25/09/28)
[ general ]: minho + fem reader, childhood friends/enemies → lovers, non idol au, ex’s enemy, their mums are besties, demisexual reader, angst + fluff + (eventual) smut, sunshine x grumpy, she falls first but he falls harder, a few flashback scenes, minho has huge commitment issues and reader is a hopeless romantic, minho is constantly wearing a leather jacket and looks damn hot in it (or should this be a warning?)
[ warning ]: explicit sexual scenes [ tags for each chapter will be added individually ], consumption of alcohol, betrayal and manipulation, commitment issues, anxiety attacks, depression, daddy issues (minho) [ pls make sure to watch out for individual warnings for each chapter ]
[ words ]: 38.1K/~40K [ ongoing! ]
[ note ]: hey my beloveds! this is a fresh start and repost of a story I originally posted last December but never finished. I hope you will enjoy it! Regarding taglist: please only ask to be added if you plan to interact meaningfully (reblogs with text, asks, DMs, replies etc.) with the fic. If you don’t, I will have to remove you again and make space for someone else since I have to tag everyone individually for each chapter which is a lot of work. Simply leaving likes is not meaningful interaction. I hope you understand! 🩵
[ !! ]: the beautiful dividers are from @saradika-graphics
(Revised) Event period: November 2 (1 PM KST) — November 3 (11:59 PM KST) Apologies for the delay 🙇♀️
Several spinebreaking days later, my newest passion project IF is now live! A few things to mention:
➥ This is the first time I'm attempting a project of this scale, and it's only v.1.1.0. @straywrds and I have been relentlessly beta-testing this (thank you SOOOOOO much Mari!), and while I have done my best to code correctly, there may be bugs I haven't been able to foresee. I ask for your understanding.
➥ Make sure to set the game to full screen from the bottom right before you play.
➥ This game is optimized for desktop devices. While it does work on mobile, it's not recommended. (e.g. Android test failed in the audio department, but it may be a device-specific issue.)
➥ If you enjoy this experience, your feedback would mean a lot to me.
WHAT'S INSIDE
⚠ — Master-servant relationship in an alternative history setting, vampirism
➥ Designate your character's name
➥ Choose from 8 available love interests
➥ Complete interactive tasks
➥ Join the Winston bashing club
➥ Unlockable smut scenes
➥ Atmospheric audio
➥ Play here
May the odds be with you 🎲 Share your stats with me!
I can finally go back to writing...
🔖 Signup tags (Non-taglist. Permanent taglist is getting an update, please see below the cut): @angelreblogarchive @augiesha @marigold1107 @mimimoos-stuff @mmoonriseflowerr @sunnyville36 @homelessmeowmeow
🔖 Permanent taglist (form here if you wish to join): LAST CALL — As stated in my form, my taglist is meant for those who are willing to meaningfully engage with me (e.g. asks, comments, reblogs w/ commentary), so I am updating my taglist. Very kindly refill the form if you still have interest as I will no longer be honoring silent/inactive readers. If you've been interacting with me anonymously, you can send in an ask to tell me your URL. I will respect your anonymity and not publicly respond to your ask.
Those who frequently interact, I already know who you are, and I hope you know you are the backbone of this community. You are MUCH appreciated 🫶
I'll be honest, the collective library meltdown entertained me very much throughout this event 😆 Like, damn bro, be less eccentric @ master. Hope you were able to figure it out later ^^ Thank you so much for playing, lovely!
Honestly I loved the library puzzle. At first I did by color and it didn't work (duh, don't care for appearances). So then I did alphabetical by Title. And when that didn't work obviously it was alphabetical by subject.
But I also have a science brain so like, those were the options that made sense
⚠ — Age gap (older reader), virginity loss, first times, breeding & lactation kink (see masterlist for more)
➥ If someone told you a couple of weeks ago that you would be losing your virginity to some pretty boy half your age, you would die laughing.
HOST PROFILE
※ Legal name: Chris [*Crispy -Ji] Bang [me all night long💋 -Lix]
※ Host code: NOVA
※ Attracts: Loverboy aficionados [Don't come after my shit, it's 'Heartthrob' for you -Hyun]
※ Characteristics: Natural flirt [*Horny, -The Real Boss], sexy dork [You a dork alright, -Jeong], college crush vibes [Wtf is college, you were born in the Renaissance -Seung], knows what he’s doing but acts shy [Have some backbone mf, if u sexy u sexy -Bin]
※ Why patrons love him: Dude’s just super swoon material. [Heh, thank you ^^ -Chris]
“SURPRISE!!!”
You clasped your chest at the threshold of your apartment, thinking you were for sure having a heart attack. With all due fucking respect, there was a reason you told your beloved trio of friends you didn’t like surprise parties. It had nothing to do with being a hipster-level snob—you just did not enjoy getting jumpscared, period.
“Happy birthday, sweetie!”
Then again, you had to give it to them. A surprise party was indeed a surprise when it happened an entire week before your actual birthday. Still taking deep breaths to calm your crazed heartbeat, you reciprocated their hugs with a blank stare and muttered something that sounded like a thank you. You didn’t know exactly how much time had passed until you sat down on your couch to open your gifts.
A watch. A box of all your favorite snacks. A bottle of Pisang Ambon freshly brought from Kim’s recent Amsterdam trip. And a red envelope harboring something like an invitation.
“What the hell is… Back Door?”
“It’s a point we’re trying to make,” Marina responded before taking a huge sip from her wine. “And possibly the key to relieving years’ worth of pent-up stress you don’t even realize you have.”
“Relieving stress? Is this supposed to be a spa?” you looked at the envelope. “A little eccentric name choice if you ask me.”
“Not exactly,” Jess slapped a shit-eating grin on her face. “Remember your little revelation at Kim’s party?”
Oh good fucking grief… Kim’s party.
The boss bitch herself had gone all out to announce to everyone on the hemisphere that she had made junior partner at the firm you were working together, and the guest list was almost exclusively composed of all the hotties she knew. You and Jess were just lounging on the couch when some dude with a huge sleeve tattoo, disheveled hair, and baggy clothes on walked into the room, immediately grabbing the attention of everyone in the vicinity.
But Jess the most.
“Like, hot damn, man,” she immediately started eyefucking the guy. “How many shots will it take for you to finally get rid of that shirt and give me some spank bank material?”
“You wanna sleep with him that much?”
“As if,” she deadpanned. “He has a girlfriend. I just want a clearer mental image for when I cum to the thought of this guy.”
“Oh, that’s what spank bank means?”
Jess turned to you with creased brows and asked you the one question she wasn’t supposed to ask you.
“Sweetie, you do masturbate, right?”
Oh, shit.
How to explain this fucking situation and not come across as an extraterrestrial being…
“Tsch, duh. I mean… Who–Who doesn’t?”
“Really?” she squinted her eyes more. “How do you do it?”
Masturbation. Something very natural for an average person, but your worst enemy. Whenever you mentioned that you never tried touching yourself, most people acted like you just told them you hated puppies or something. It wasn’t like you had anything against it; you just never experienced a sexual frustration so dire that it needed to be sated.
“Woman…”
“Fine! I’ve never done it before.”
“Seriously?” Jess basically yelled as if she wasn’t expecting this answer in the slightest. “Like… Ever?”
“No, once. What do you think never means?”
The expression on her face changed from incredulous to somewhat concerned, and she came closer to you as if she was about to reveal a secret.
“Sweetie, are you… Are you a virgin?”
You thought she was going to judge you for still being untouched at this age, but her eyes were nothing but compassionate. As though she was about to scream ‘Show me where the bullies are’ and beat the shit out of some people on your behalf. When you nodded, she didn’t drag the conversation—just squeezed your hand, grabbed another bottle of wine for the both of you, and changed the subject seemingly for a more convenient time to be discussed.
“I promise you this is an incredibly professional place. I’ve done a lot of research for this,” Kim reassured you after giving you the whole spiel about what the red envelope place was supposed to be. “This host in particular has stellar testimonials.”
“What’s he recommended for? How well he fucks?”
“You would think so,” Marina continued. “but people actually praise him for what a genuinely sweet guy he is.”
“A sweet guy?” you cocked a brow. “So you’re telling me this is not to get my V-card swiped?”
“No, bitch, it’s because you keep making excuses not to meet people. Not everything’s about sex, you know?”
When Jess hit you with that much bluntness, you didn’t really know what to refute that with because it was true. Every time they told you a friend of theirs was interested in you, every time someone just walked up to you at a bar to initiate a conversation, you always had a reason to refuse them. You told people that you weren’t interested in a relationship, that you didn’t have time for someone else, that you were just waiting for a friend at that bar, but the matter of the fact was you knew. You knew it was going to be a meaningless encounter. You knew they were going to ask for sex eventually, and they were going to freak out when they learned that…
You know…
“I–I have my reasons. My career—”
“With all due respect, I’m gonna have to stop you right there with your bullshit,” Jess firmly interrupted you. “One bad apple does not define the entire bunch in the basket, you realize that, right?”
In theory, you did. In practice, hell to the no and all men could fuck right off.
It was years ago when you first started college. You did fall under someone’s spell pretty hard. He was very charming. Funny. Sexy. He made you feel a certain type of way for the first time. You even thought you could experience some of your other firsts with him in the long run.
‘In the long run’ being the keyword.
You didn’t want to get intimate with him when he wanted. From your perspective, he had nothing to lose; this was probably just going to be another hit-and-run for him. Call it old-fashioned or whatever, but you wanted your firsts to be meaningful. Preferably with someone you had sort of a connection with. Someone who cared about you. Someone patient. Someone who wouldn’t make this a scarring memory for the rest of your life.
The night you said a firm ‘No’ was the last day he talked to you. Credit where credit is due—he did give you a first. Your very first heartbreak. Just the very next day, you saw him making out with someone else at some party, and that was the day you said a heartfelt fuck you to everything even remotely related to love affairs.
Sex. Why did everything always have to be about sex?
You couldn’t really calculate that your aversion would last for years, but it did. Even after college. Even during law school. Even when you started your first job. You didn’t really care much for it, though. Your career took up almost all the space in your life, so you didn’t have much time for anything else as it was. But only after these three ladies at your firm approached you at lunch one day and basically adopted you into their little circle did you realize you were living in a completely different dimension.
You insisted you weren’t going to let anyone touch you unless you felt something for them, but the paradox here was that you were keeping everyone at an arm’s length. Several arms, for that matter.
“So, you think some random person should pop my cherry instead…”
“No! Oh god no, this isn’t about that,” Kim instantly shook her head. “You have to admit, you blow off everyone who tries to approach you. We just want you to see that the non-asshole genre of guys also exists.”
“Think of it as a blind date you’re gonna have a guaranteed good time with,” Marina enthusiastically added. “Everything’s going to be on your terms, and if you feel uncomfortable at any point, you can always leave. You don’t have to get intimate whatsoever.”
How adamant must you have been in your rejection of potential happiness because of your fears that your closest friends felt the need to arrange this pseudo-date for you? And you actually thought it was to get you laid? You genuinely felt bad for a second there for assuming the worst, and played with the envelope in your hand.
“Can I get store credit for it if I do?”
“I don’t think that’s how it works, sweetie,” Jess couldn’t help her smile and unlocked her phone to show you a picture. “Just look at this and tell me the guy isn’t incredibly cute. He’s so your type!”
You grabbed the phone to look at the photograph of your date who allegedly had superpowers to change your world and almost fell off the couch. There was absolutely no fucking way he was real. Broad shoulders, incredibly pretty smile, and an aura of absolute class radiating off the screen. The man looked like a goddamn prince.
“I’m–I’m supposed to spend an evening with this guy?”
“And he’s going to be at your beck and call,” Kim hugged you from behind the couch. “You just do you and have a good time!”
On a normal day, this would have flustered you. The fact that this appointment took place on Valentine’s Day flustered you infinity times more.
That evening, you walked into the club having no clue what was in store for you or what you were going to say. You just grabbed the champagne glass offered to you upon entrance and sat down on a couch in the lounge area as if you were in some therapist’s waiting room. Somebody would eventually tell you that the doctor would see you now, right?
“Good evening.”
Hooooly shit!
Oh, he was real. He was real alright, and he was insanely good-looking in person. The way his buttoned-up blazer was tightly wrapped around his figure left very little to the imagination considering the amount of skin he was showing as if… he wasn’t wearing anything inside.
And this man was supposed to accompany you?
“My name is Chris, and I’ll be your host tonight.”
You looked up at him all stunned with your lips slightly parted, and eventually took the hand he extended for you to hold. When you got up, he kissed your hand to greet you, and you felt like you had to say something in return. Something level-headed. Something that showed elegance.
“I have absolutely no idea how this works and I’m awkward as fuck. I wholeheartedly apologize.”
You didn’t have any control over your words whatsoever—they completely forced themselves out of your lips. After a momentary silence, this dazzling man standing tall in front of you erupted into such a heartfelt laughter that you felt a piece of your worries as well as your heart melt away.
“Oh, I just know we’re gonna have an amazing time tonight,” he offered his arm for you to lock yours with. “Shall we?”
You linked your arm on autopilot and walked next to him into a hallway. It wasn’t much different than a hotel corridor. Four rooms on either side with identical doors. The numbers on them weren’t consecutive. He swiped a card on the lock of Room 1003 and gestured for you to walk in first into the extremely cozy-looking room with peaches and shades of warm beiges everywhere. The choice of the soft palette eased your restlessness a little bit and you made your way towards the dinner table for two, clearly waiting for you two to sit down.
“May I ask what brings you here tonight?” he started pouring the chilled wine into your glass.
“This was supposed to be a gift.”
“A Valentine’s gift?”
“Not exactly,” you fidgeted in your seat. “Today uh… Today’s actually my birthday.”
“Your birthday is on Valentine’s Day?”
You nodded. It was obvious you were going to nod a lot today. It was somewhat fine out in the lounge area, but now that you were alone with this ethereal being, your nervousness suddenly skyrocketed. What were words, where did your hands usually go, and why the fuck were you feeling like your feelings were written all over your face in bold fonts made of fire?
“Well, um… Do I get something like a manual for this? What–What am I supposed to do?”
“Anything you ask for,” Chris responded in a serene but deep tone. “We can spend one night in heaven. Or hell if that’s what you prefer. Nothing’s off limits. You just need to name it.”
It was an act. You always knew when it was an act. That was both the blessing and the curse of being a forever third wheel to your friends. You had way too much time on your hands to observe people. On the other hand, this was a service people fucking paid for—it was supposed to be an act.
If a genie appeared and said it could grant any and every wish, most people would use it to their advantage. Shapeshift it into the things they had always desired and finally satisfy their curiosities maybe.
But you weren’t most people.
“Look, I uh… Can I just ask for one thing?”
“Please. Anything.”
You placed your fork back on your plate and took a moment to pick your words carefully. This may have been a paid service, but that didn’t automatically give you the right to be rude.
“This is probably not gonna make any sense to you,” you examined the salad bowl a little too intently and finally lifted your eyes to meet his gaze, “but please don’t pretend to be someone you’re not tonight.”
You watched the little smile on his lips getting wiped out in slow motion. The expression on his face was a little hard to read. Was he offended? Mad? Confused? While you were on the brink of regretting all your life choices so far, all that echoed in your host’s mind was, Huh…
Chris was used to this being the other way around. Not that he ever complained—that was the product sold here after all. Fantasies. Over the years, he had developed such an intricate toolbox that he could whip out a trick that would cater to anything that was asked of him. He would create this enchanting dimension just for two people to grant a night that wouldn’t be easily forgettable.
No one ever popped that magic bubble right upon arrival.
“Are you sure? I’ve been told my default mode was an absolute dork who curses a lot.”
He was smiling, but the shade was much much different than the sultry dark reds he welcomed you with. This was sunset orange. This was ocean aqua. And he smelled like iodine all of a sudden. His posture visibly relaxed, and you relaxed along with him.
“I’ll take dorks over suave players any day of the week, otherwise this is going to feel like a dissertation defense to me,” you pushed your glass to him for a refill. “I’d be much more comfortable if we dropped the act.”
“Well, you asked for it. No takebacks,” he pointed his finger at you and served your drink. “So what would you like to do? We can watch a movie.”
“Suuuure, how about we change into PJs and stuff while we’re at it, huh?” you sarcastically chuckled.
“I mean that’s my uniform, so I’d say hell yeah,” Chris shrugged and took a bite from his food. You inspected his face to figure out how serious he really was.
“Wait, you don’t… You don’t actually have pajamas in this place, do you?”
He gracefully wiped his mouth, stood up, and walked to a closet nearby. You were bewildered out of your mind when you saw what was inside.
“I have silk and cotton pajamas, and also sweatshirts and hoodies,” he pointed at the shelves. “Just tell me what your preference is.”
You burst into a hysterical laughter fit. When your girls told you everything would be on your terms, you didn’t really expect it to be this literal.
“How about we talk first?” you made a counteroffer.
“Sure thing!”
This was supposed to simulate a date. A first date on your end. Your first date ever. What the fuck did people even do on first dates? What were the topics discussed, appropriate questions to ask, and—
“So, what do you do for a living?” he reached for his glass again and saved you from racking your brains out trying to fill in the audio feed of the room.
“I’m a lawyer.”
You flinched in your place when Chris spurted his drink out of genuine bafflement and let out an involuntary exclamation.
“The FUCK?!”
The three seconds that passed by in silence dragged on forever until the full comprehension of what he just said hit him in full force.
“Oh my god, I’m–I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”
Your laughter rippled throughout the room, immediately softening his features since you didn’t seem to have taken offense at the vulgar exclamation.
“It’s okay!” you reassured him, still laughing while cutting the food on your plate. “You wouldn’t guess that in a million years, huh?”
“I honestly wouldn’t,” he drooped his shoulders and let himself lean back. “Then… Then how…?”
“...am I this awkward when I argue for a living?” you completed his sentence as you were used to the sentence pattern after years of practice. “That’s my job. Those skills aren’t exactly transferable to interpersonal relationships for me. Less so for romantic ones.”
He was looking at you with mouth still agape but eventually broke into a wide smile.
“If you don’t mind me saying this, that’s fucking fascinating,” he took a sip from his glass to refresh his brain. “Well? Got any questions for me?”
Of course you did. Were those dimples a family heirloom for example? Did he know his accent laced his dorkiness with a tinge of sexiness? Was he aware he was the first guy in a long while you weren’t scared shitless to be around?
“Why do they call you Nova?” you opted for a much different question instead.
“It’s when a star suddenly brightens in the sky,” he explained matter-of-factly, then sheepishly laughed to himself. “Well, that’s just the way I prefer it because it sounds meaningful. My crew actually gave me that name as short for Casanova.”
“I can see why,” you broke into a fond smile, admiring the features of this total ladies’ man. “How did you decide to work here?”
“I don’t just work here,” he responded. “I’m one of the owners of this club.”
“Seriously?!” it was your turn to be flabbergasted this time. “How did you even come up with this idea for a business?”
“I’ve always liked entertaining people. I figured why not do this for a living?”
Well, who were you to judge? Not everybody became severely crippled in social situations. And they most certainly did not load that much meaning into getting physical with someone. Still, you couldn’t help asking genuinely out of curiosity.
“Doesn’t it feel empty at times?” your voice came out somewhat small. “I–I’m not judging! It’s just that… Every night… Like, with different people… how do you…? In your regular life, I mean…”
“Are you trying to ask me whether I can still enjoy sex when I do this for a living?”
His warm smile evolved into a little chuckle when you nodded looking at your fingers.
“This is my job. And it’s about perspective. I approach this as collecting people,” he replied after swallowing his bite. “I really like listening to their stories if they are willing to tell them. Not every night ends with sex, nor should it. Sometimes people need company more than an escort that shows them a good time.”
A people collector, huh? In all honesty, you were expecting a testosterone-loaded answer, something along the lines of ‘Duh, I didn’t build this stamina for nothing,’ clumsily decorated with a smug grin, which would be your cue to leave. But Chris…
He was a pleasant surprise, to say the least.
“If you don’t mind me saying this, that’s just fascinating,” you echoed his earlier comment back to him, which prompted his dimples to grow deeper.
“Believe it or not, these skills aren’t exactly transferable to romantic relationships for me, either.”
“How come?”
“Being a host is much different than being in a relationship. People tend to confuse it more often than you think,” he opened his arms and gestured to the general direction of the room. “Here you can ask me to be whoever, but when we go home I can’t keep being who you expect me to be. It’s not really fair.”
Wasn’t that the celebrity syndrome if you thought about it? People would put someone on a pedestal thinking they were this flawless being, admired the version of them they built up in their head, then get disappointed as fuck when they realized they were worshipping a human being capable of making mistakes all along.
“Have you ever… you know, with a patron…?”
“Gone home?”
“I was actually going to say fallen in love.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, no to both,” he leisurely uttered and refilled both your glasses.
You picked up your refreshed glass and brought it to your lips, averting your eyes from him in the meantime. “I guess that would be counterproductive for your business.”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t think twice about my business if I met someone who swept me off my feet. Managerial roles exist, you know?”
It could be due to the cold wine you were downing, but you felt your cheeks getting warm.
“Then lucky for you this isn’t exactly an ideal place to meet someone like that,” you played with the edge of your linen napkin. “Since you need to be who they want you to be and all that.”
“You’re right,” he heaved a deep sigh and fixated his gaze on you. “It would be futile to wait for someone who will ask me to be my dork self to show up.”
You blushed harder when you looked up at him. He had the ghost of a smile on his face, but even that much was so beautiful. Your eyes darted to the fingers he was softly tapping on the table. He had nice hands. He had nicer eyes. He had the nicest soul, and he was starting to get to your head. You watched him reach for a remote behind him, and when he pressed a button, the soft melodies of a slow jam began to fill the room.
“Can I have this dance?”
Your hand reached out to his on its own, and once you established skin-to-skin contact, you felt yourself get up in slow motion. It wasn’t really a conscious decision; more like someone was controlling your movements and you were just watching it happen.
“You’re not used to letting go of control at all, are you?” he teasingly asked as you were swaying to the calm beats of the song.
“How… Why did you—?”
“Your posture tells your partner how to move,” he tapped on your tense shoulders. “Would you allow me to take the lead?”
Only then did you realize you were actually stiff as a rock. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to relax.
“Let’s just enjoy this,” he flashed one of his soothing smiles again.
Dancing. A socially acceptable activity even in public, but even that much was the most intimate you had ever been with someone. Chris was trying to keep a reasonable distance between you. It was easy for your sake, but it was hard as fuck at the same time because all he could think about was kissing you.
In a momentary lapse of sanity, you managed to keep eye contact with him. He had galaxies in his gentle eyes, and you watched a thousand novas going off in them every time the candlelight on the table flickered in his irises. You were feeling your existence melt away. His nose brushed against yours when he leaned in closer. It tickled you. Your gaze inadvertently darted to his moist lips, and you realized you were dying to know what they felt like.
“I really want to kiss you right now.”
When he verbalized your exact thoughts back at you, the possibility of him reading minds scared the crap out of you, and your movements came to an abrupt stop.
“Did I say that out loud?” he immediately started panicking. “Shit, I’m–I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
A dork. But a very adorable one nevertheless, tugging at your heartstrings for whatever reason. When your laughter died down, you got closer to his face the tiniest measure. He accepted your invitation. It felt like a lifetime had passed when your lips finally touched.
He tasted like the vanilla ice cream and the strawberries he ate not too long ago. His lips were the softest thing you ever felt on your skin. So full, perfect texture. His tongue reached for yours at an unrushed pace and started dancing to the rhythm he was dancing with you. Slow. Languid. Warm. Seductive. Dangerously electric.
Everything you could possibly ask for your first kiss to be.
“How do you feel?” he asked once he managed to step away from you.
I’m dying, you wanted to say, I’m dying in your arms.
“Is my heart supposed to be racing?” you answered with your eyes still closed.
“Very much,” he softly chuckled. “That means I’m turning you on.”
Turning you on. This much. With a damn kiss. Barely touching you. Your heart was about to jump out of your chest, what the heck did he mean by simply turning you on?!
“There’s um… There’s something I need to tell you,” you hesitantly spoke.
“Yes?”
“I uh… I haven’t… I mean I don’t know…”
You felt his warm touch on your cheek. He was fondly smiling at you.
“I’m aware.”
“You are?”
“We need such information to cater to our patrons properly.”
Oh, of course. Part of you was relieved that he wasn’t able to deduce that simply by the fire billboard flashing on your face, but that didn’t mean you still weren’t going to be the first case of death by mortification.
“It’s not just that,” you continued. “I don’t know what an— I–I don’t…”
“It’s okay,” he held your hands and placed little pecks on them. “Please be comfortable with me.”
You were on the brink of making a decision, so if you weren’t going to tell him now, then when? You cleared your throat and finally blurted it out.
“I’ve never had an orgasm before.”
“Oh…” he momentarily paused, then his features relaxed like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Oh, you mean like… except for… like, when you’re alone…”
“I haven’t even touched myself.”
“Really?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Is there… a reason? If you don’t mind me asking of course,” he quickly added not to overstep any boundaries.
“I just don’t know how,” you shrugged.
“To masturbate, you mean?”
“It’s not like I haven’t seen porn or anything. I just…” you trailed off. “I can’t really picture myself with the people I see on the screen.”
“Well, haven’t you been curious at all?”
“Of course I have.”
Suddenly, his expression changed like he just cracked a case. His surprised gaze replaced itself with an infinitely compassionate one.
“It’s waiting for the right person thing, isn’t it?”
“Avoiding the wrong person is more like it,” you corrected him with a broken smile.
“I understand,” he brushed your hair behind your ears and switched to his cheery tone again. “We can spend the rest of the night chatting. It wasn’t a joke, by the way, I do have an extensive movie collect—”
“But you’re a little too good to be a mistake.”
Chris expected many things, all of which ended with you concluding the night right then and there, but this?
Not even in his wildest dreams.
“You–You mean…?”
“I want to,” you smiled at him for a change. It felt like you had reversed roles in a matter of seconds because it was him who seemed to be visibly flustered this time around.
“I wouldn’t want you to regret this. After all, I’m just an esc—”
“I’m a big girl capable of making her own decisions,” you interrupted him and put your hands on his shoulders. “You feel right to me.”
You could see how endeared he was, but that lasted maybe only a couple of seconds. His smile shapeshifted into a mischievous grin solely targeted at flustering you.
“So you’re giving me the honor of finishing you for the first time?”
Your jaw dropped at how shamelessly he said that with his whole chest, and the first thing your instincts told you was to slap him on his biceps really hard. Chris immediately buried his face in the crook of your neck, very pleased with his teasing attempt, and laughed against your skin. You were riddled with a warm and fuzzy feeling from head to toe.
“We’ll take it slow,” he held the tip of your chin and got closer to your face with every word. “So slow I may frustrate you a little bit.”
You could feel his smile on your lips, but it didn’t stay there for too long when he started losing himself and deepening the kiss more and more. You grabbed his hands and slid them down to your waist.
“Is it okay?”
“You don’t have to ask for permission for everything,” you encouraged him.
“But I do,” he insisted. “I need to know you’re comfortable.”
You just kissed him in response. What else could you do but keep kissing him so that he knew how much you really wanted this?
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered against your skin with his eyes closed. “I kinda can’t believe we’re about to do this.”
You inadvertently giggled. The last time you checked, this man was an escort who slept with people for a living. Why would he even get this excited over the prospect of sex?
“What are you talking about? You do this all the time.”
“I haven’t been lucky enough to host someone who asked for me before,” he spoke earnestly. “It doesn’t feel like you’re a patron.”
Your heart swelled a couple of times its size in your chest. You shook your head to alleviate the emotions flooding you and attempted to change the atmosphere.
“So tell me, what are dorks like in bed?”
“Very horny pleasers,” he responded with a straight face and pulled you in for a kiss again.
You let him guide you to the bedroom while his lips were still glued to yours. Once you reached the edge of the bed, he broke the kiss and slowly turned you around to unzip the back zipper of your dress. His thumbs brushed against your shoulder blades and you felt his lips on your neck.
“Take my clothes off, too,” he whispered into your ear.
You faced him again and started unbuttoning his blazer, lowkey wondering whether your suspicions were true. When you loosened the last button and exposed his torso, you gulped so loudly that there was no way he didn’t notice it.
He really wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and that view was nothing short of magnificent.
His fingers traveled to your shoulders, and he slowly dragged your straps down to put you both on equal grounds from the waist up.
“May I?” he pulled you closer from your waist.
“Yes to everything. Don’t ask.”
He started massaging your breasts ever so softly and laid you down on the bed to place kisses on them. Then he put your hand on his waistband to signal you to take it off. As you dragged down the zipper of his pants, he rid you of your dress. It was just you in your underwear now. He rested his back against the headboard and shifted your body to seat you in his lap, your back against his chest.
“Comfortable?”
“Mhm.”
His hand slid down your thighs and started caressing them, sneakily making its way towards your clothed pussy staining the layer of fabric it was covered by.
“I need to get you wet first before we actually fuck.”
He felt it. He felt how hard you throbbed under his touch when he used that word.
And he absolutely loved it.
“Do you like it when I call it fucking?”
“I do.”
“Do you like it when I talk dirty to you?” his other hand reached for your breast as he kept whispering into your ear. “Does it turn you on?”
“It tightens knots in my stomach,” you wiggled in your place. “Just what are you doing to me?”
“I’m loving you,” he kissed your temple. “I want you to enjoy me.”
It could be because your eyes were closed, but the impact of his voice on you quadrupled all of a sudden. It was smooth like satin and deep like a chasm, and you had no choice but to surrender to it.
“Look up,” he touched your chin to prompt you to open your eyes. “We look a little too good, don’t you reckon?”
When you finally snapped them open, you were greeted by the sight of you spread out in his lap half naked and one of his hands sliding behind the lace hiding you from him in the mirror on the ceiling. A part of you wanted to keep looking, but another part of you was absolutely mortified.
“It’s okay,” he hugged you tighter. “I’m right here.”
He delicately brushed three of his fingers against your pussy lips, then pressed them on your clit. You felt them moving in a circular motion.
“Is the pressure okay?”
You wanted to say yes, but you forgot how to talk. You just let him keep rubbing you tenderly like he was petting you.
“How does it feel? Tell me.”
“It’s… strange,” you managed to utter. “I mean… It–It feels good, but I’m… I’m very lightheaded.”
“It’s alright. I got you.”
As he continued his ministrations, you sank into his chest more. The only sound you were able to produce was your soft moans, absolute music to his ears.
“I’m… I feel something tightening,” you squeezed his hand tightly while heavily panting. “Is that supposed to happen?”
“Where?”
“Where you’re… Where you’re touching.”
This was the last situation Chris thought he would find himself endeared, but there he was. He watched you in the mirror with an extremely fond smile on his face.
“Yes, you’re about to cum,” he kissed your temple again. “I’m gonna finish you, and it’s gonna feel fucking fantastic.”
Finishing you. That was what he called your climax. He might as well have called it murdering you because your first ever orgasm felt like ripping out your own flesh to get out of your body. You thought you were going to be launched all the way up to the stratosphere, but he tightly wrapped one arm around your waist as if to keep you grounded. To tell you that he was right there with you and he wasn’t going to let you go astray. When your consciousness started coming back to you, all you could feel was his little kisses all over your face.
“Shall we find out what else you like?”
He lay you down on the soft mattress and took the opportunity of you still being high off your orgasm to completely strip you. He could finally see you as you were. Bare. Yourself. The contraction of your inner walls about to die down. He descended between your legs and pecked your thighs to make his way up. To your lips. Then your folds. He was beyond satisfied to witness the sheen of gloss covering you because of him from that up close.
“Can I lick you?”
“Where?!” you plopped up on your elbows in panic.
“Right here,” he placed a kiss on your pussy.
You were so embarrassed that you let yourself fall back into the bed and nodded after pressing your hands on your eyes. He kind of wished he could tell you how cute he thought your shyness was.
When he closed those perfect lips of his on your still buzzing clit and started gently sucking on it, you instantly arched towards him.
“What is this?!”
He contently hummed, and you heard his soft chuckle against you.
“It’s just me pleasuring you. Just enjoy it.”
You didn’t know whether you should be concerned or not; something was spreading from your core to the rest of your body. It was a very unfamiliar feeling. His fresh iodine scent was enveloping you, and when you closed your eyes, it felt like a cool ocean wave was washing over you. It felt good.
It felt really good.
“Your taste is unreal,” he spoke against your cunt soaked with a mixture of his spit and your arousal. “Hold my hands.”
He increased his pace and the pressure on your clit. When you mustered enough courage to open your eyes, you looked up in the mirror to watch him going to town on you, and it was such an earthshattering view that it charred itself behind your eyelids forever. His eyes were closed, and he was moaning against your cunt with every suck. You squeezed his hands tighter as you felt the buildup inside you peaking again. It was satisfying. Like scratching an itch. And you were about to combust.
“You’re gonna cum again,” he tenderly pecked your glistening folds. “It might feel more intense this time.”
“GOD!!!”
He did tell you it could feel more intense. You felt the words hit your ears, but you could never ever prepare yourself for this. When he hit the home run with rapid laps on your swollen clit, you felt like dying, violently thrashing under him with excessive pleasure.
“And?” he climbed over your body and brought his face closer to yours.
“Fantastic,” you burst into a peal of involuntary laughter, drowned in kisses while coming down.
“Now onto more of the good stuff,” he looked into your eyes. “You said you didn’t picture yourself with the people in the porn you watched.”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t exactly say you didn’t like the things you’ve seen.”
Busted. You were really hoping that little detail slipped past him, but unfortunately…
“Did you?” he insisted with a playful smile.
You were beet red, trying to look at somewhere that wasn’t him, but it wasn’t that easy when he had you trapped under his frame.
“It’s okay. Everything you tell me is forever between us,” he lightly stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. “Tell me so I can satisfy you better. What did you see that you liked?”
You had never talked to anyone about such things before. Not even during drunk ladies’ nights, let alone with a partner in your bed. He followed your gaze wherever it tried to escape and you eventually caved.
“Okay, uh… It wasn’t porn. It was… it was a movie.”
“Mhm?” he started playing with your hair.
“There was um… there was this couple.”
“Mhm?”
“They were… married.”
“And?”
“And they decided to… to try for a kid.”
“You want us to try for a kid, baby?”
Who the fuck talks like that?!!!
He said that so damn brazenly that you didn’t even know how to respond to him. It wasn’t only what he said, but the way he said it, and how he chose to fucking address you.
“Oh, GOD, not… Not uh… not exactly.”
“Then tell me,” he brushed his nose against yours.
You swallowed in an attempt to soothe your dry throat, but it didn’t help much.
“They didn’t show it on the screen, but… the man said… he said…”
“Yes?”
“He said how beautiful his wife’s… tits were going to be once… once she got pregnant.”
“Because they’re going get bigger?”
He felt it again. He felt how hard you throbbed against his rock hard cock this time.
“Y–Yes.”
“Would you let me taste your milk, too?”
He ghosted his lips against your breasts. You almost passed out anticipating that kiss on your sensitive skin, involuntarily moaning when he closed his mouth on your nipple. His warm tongue swirled around the hardened flesh as he sucked on it.
“They’ll be really sensitive you know,” he spoke very softly. “Rumor has it I may even make you cum from that. Would you let me make you cum from that?”
He was doing it again, whispering a bunch of audacious words to fluster you, to tease you, and you had less than zero idea why it was doing things to your insides.
“What if you squirted your milk on my cock? What if both of us mixed together tasted incredible?” he filled his lungs to the brim with your scent. “And what if you let me taste our flavor from these lips?”
When you closed your eyes, you could feel his sentences touching all over your body. You were feeling weaker with every word. Warmer. Wetter.
“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to satisfy you,” he confessed in hushed tones as if giving you a secret. “It’s not an act. I mean it.”
You sneaked your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you.
“Can we… Can we now…?”
“You want to?”
“Yes.”
“You know what that means, though, right?” he asked somewhat seriously. “You’re gonna be mine. For good.”
It was crazy. The things you were feeling, that you wanted to do were completely batshit crazy, but nothing about that night was within the realm of reason anyway. You kissed him a little too enthusiastically than you intended.
“When you’re about to cum,” you looked dead into his eyes, “I don’t want you to pull out.”
‘Shocked’ didn’t even begin to describe the expression on his face. Something glinted in his eyes. Something delirious. It was so obvious what you just said excited him beyond control, but he was trying so hard to restrain it.
“Are you… Are you seri—?”
“Yes.”
And when you uttered the one word he was secretly hoping to hear, Chris lost his entire shit.
“God, let me fucking breed you.”
He unleashed himself on your lips, and it was nothing like the kisses you had shared so far. So damn intense. Like he was trying to inhale you whole. You wished he kept cursing like that for the rest of the night because by god nothing could be that sexy.
“Tell me when you want me to go deeper, okay baby?”
You watched him align himself with your entrance and began fucking into you with very shallow thrusts. Even when he met resistance, he could feel your drenched walls clenching around him.
“You feel so fucking good, it’s insane” he moaned breathlessly. “Look how perfectly you fit around me.”
You didn’t even know where to touch him. You wanted to feel every inch of him. All over you. With wild abandon.
“How does it feel inside?”
“I’m so dizzy,” you clung to his arms, way too consumed with your hunger for him.
“I’ll fill you up so good it’s gonna gush out of you, you know,” his movements started quickening.
“Breed me,” you sank your fingertips deeper into his skin. “Fuck, breed me!!!”
“First time you cursed,” he smiled in pure rapture. “Say it again. Say what you want me to do.”
“Fuck me deeper.”
“Good girl,” he lifted your legs up and angled himself towards his new target.
He dove deep into your lips as his thrusts started becoming deeper. The drops of sweat were dripping from his forehead on your chest while he was paving his way into you. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper until you felt something snap and finally break free, immediately inducing an arson all over your body.
It felt fucking spectacular inside you.
“This is only our first time. We have so many nights ahead of us,” he kissed your forehead. “You’re gonna learn how to take your man. I’ll teach you.”
“Faster,” you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist. “Go faster. I’m so—”
“But you’re already taking me so well, aren’t you?”
The way he talked to you like that… He knew what he was doing to you, and you fucking loved every bit of it.
“I wanna keep loving you like this,” he picked up his pace and started fucking into you with unmatched fervor. “Just let me.”
And it was the last straw when he began stimulating your clit with his thumb.
“I’m–I’m fucking cumming!!!”
You violently arched into him as he held you and fucked you through your orgasm. His muffled grunts sounded delicious in your mouth. You felt amazing. You felt loved.
And you didn’t feel like this was enough.
“I want to… Want…” your hands reached for his crotch.
“Wanna taste me, too?”
“Y–Yes.”
He immediately obliged and laid down on his back to watch you blow him. He tasted like you. The second you took him in the warmth of your mouth, he started moaning your name so deep from his throat that you couldn’t help clenching. It felt so good to satisfy him, watching him crumble under you like that.
“Like that. Just like that. I’m–I’m so close.”
He attempted to pull away so that he could spill elsewhere, but you didn’t stop.
“Baby, please. I’m not… I’m not gonna last.”
Baby. He called you baby again. When he was in your mouth. When you were sucking his soul out of him. The urge to make him cum got very real very fast all of a sudden.
“If you— Fuck, if you keep going I can’t… I can’t…”
You replicated the trick he did for you and began moaning against his cock. It took only mere seconds until he fucking exploded inside your mouth with very loud groans. Thick, bitter liquid shooting down your throat like that should have felt nasty maybe, but it felt like an act of love instead. It shouldn’t have, but it did.
When he finally calmed down, he pulled you into a tight embrace and kissed your face off. He could taste himself on your tongue. You thought the layer of regret would start to surface then. You thought you would be yelling at yourself what the fuck you were thinking losing your virginity to an escort, but as far as you were concerned, you lost it to some dorky star shining blindingly bright.
And you couldn’t feel happier about it.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fucking fantastic,” you flashed a fucked out smile to him. “I’ve had a great time tonight.”
He reciprocated the curls on your lips and started playing with your hair again.
“Would it… be okay if we… spent more time together?”
“If this is your way of inviting me back here, I’ll have you know this place is not exactly wallet-friendly.”
“I’m actually inviting you out,” he shifted his gaze from your hair to your eyes. “Dorks can cook really well, too, you know.”
He was not insinuating what you thought he was insinuating because there was absolutely no fucking way—
“Are you…? What are you…?”
“I was hoping for a little more than a patron-host relationship.”
Stunned. Speechless. Floored, even. You forgot all the words in your vocabulary, just blinking at him with mouth agape.
“I’d understand if you don’t want to. I mean who would want to go on a date with an escort, right?” he briefly averted his gaze. His hand reached to caress your face when he mustered the courage to look at you again. “But I was going to regret it if I didn’t shoot my shot. You wanna… see where this goes?”
As a tiny bit of your wits came back to you, you insisted on holding his gaze this time.
“Why would you do that for me?”
“I’m doing it for me. I wanted to get to know the woman who asked me to drop the act,” his thumb brushed against your lips. “I don’t feel like letting this go yet.”
Funny, wasn’t it? You had avoided every advance ever for fear of being left high and dry, scared of not being wanted after giving someone what they were really after. The day you decided to say fuck it to everything, with an escort no less, he was asking you whether you wanted to see… where this would go.
Life was sometimes just one big ironic bitch, wasn’t it?
“I think I’d like that,” you replied to him, “but no sex until after the fifth date. I’m not that easy.”
He burst into a giggling fit, immediately followed by kisses all over your face.
“Can I have this dance again?” he asked lovingly, the stars in his eyes shooting into yours as if they were coming back home.
✉ Enjoyed this? Your feedback & reblogs free my chapters from the draft prison.
Interactive stories are an exclusive perk I offer, but as I do with every release, we shall do a limited event. I'm giving you a heads up, so if you wish to play my newest passion project, you can sign up for it! This will be level 1/5 of a text-based game where you play a servant to your vampire master.
For samples of my interactive work, please take a look at my catalog (though this game will be in a visually different format). Early scenes from the game can be found in this post.
➥ Event period: October 31 (12 AM KST) — November 1 (11:59 PM KST)
➥ I will make a new post with the link to the game page and tag you on release day. Kindly ONLY sign up if you're keeping an active blog where you meaningfully interact with authors; otherwise I won't tag you. Comment below if you're interested; you don't have to be a part of my taglist.
WHAT'S INSIDE
➥ Ability to designate your character's name
➥ 8 available love interests
➥ Interactive tasks
➥ Unlockable smut scene
➥ Immersive atmospheric audio
May the odds be with you 🎲 Make sure to share your stats with me!
🔖 Permanent taglist (form here if you wish to join): As stated in my form, my taglist is meant for those who are willing to meaningfully engage with me (e.g. asks, comments, reblogs w/ commentary), so I am updating my taglist. Very kindly refill the form if you still have interest as I will no longer be honoring silent/inactive readers. If you've been interacting with me anonymously, you can send in an ask to tell me your URL. I will respect your anonymity and not publicly respond to your ask.
Those who frequently interact, I already know who you are, and I hope you know you are the backbone of this community. You are MUCH appreciated 🫶
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Hey! don't feel bad about not responding to asks and DMs, it's perfectly understandable. i'm sure the other anon doesn't mean it in a bad way, they were just worried they offended you in any way. so please don't feel bad! It's completely fine and understandable to be more focused on your life and mental health right now so don't feel pressured because I'm sure everyone here cares about you enough to wait till you're feeling like you're in the right head space to be active again.
Hello, thank you for taking the time to send this message <3
I don't know what the other person's intentions were, I cannot say. But sometimes, when we word things a certain way, it can come off a certain way, too.
This is the first time in my life I choose myself and healing over something else, and I realize that once again, I probably shouldn't have. I don't think everyone realizes how much time weekly I used to put into this blog. It was several hours. Many. So much time I no longer had the time to write. But it was a sacrifice I was ready to make because I was so grateful for my readers. What a beautiful problem it is to have too much interaction and asks that you can't respond to it all in a timely manner.
There is also the fact that people trust me and this space and send rather heavy asks. I am not mentally equipped to handle them right now, and maybe I never really was but I ignored that because I wanted to be there for my readers. I still want to. I just. For fuck's sake, the next step was being institutionalized. That's a few months ago and thankfully I made great progress since thanks to the medication and the support I received. But when I say I am doing my best to reply to everyone as well as I can, I mean that. I really do.
I am sorry to everyone I may have offended or hurt. I'm trying to be the Mari I used to be. I never wanted it to come to this. But anon, thank you for your support and your understanding. I really needed that today. Thank you to those who understand.
