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vampzity · 8 days ago

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GAHLEEEEEE THIS WAS GOLD

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋 ᝰ.ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍 (𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽!)

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋!𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 18+, 𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄 / 𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉 (𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 19, 𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗌 27), 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗆/𝗌𝗎𝖻 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒, 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌, 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋/𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖾 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾/𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗑, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽, 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗋. 𝖺 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖼𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖺𝗀𝗀𝖺𝗀𝖾: 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀-𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗈𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗄. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝖽𝖾. 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗍. 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 6650

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝗆.𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍!

a/n: i posted twice tdy, i know its late sorry! yeonjun: "last to kiss looses." love you guys! <3

you weren’t sure what you expected walking into your first real internship. a small office, maybe a friendly staff, maybe someone older who’d treat you like the clueless college student you were. you didn’t expect christopher.

the first thing you noticed was that he didn’t smile. not when you greeted him, not when he introduced himself as the senior executive assistant, not when he handed you the orientation packet and walked you through your role. he wasn’t rude. just... exhausted. closed off.

his voice was low and even, deep enough to echo faintly in your chest.

c: “you’ll be assisting me directly for now. your supervisor hasn’t returned from leave.”

you swallowed hard, nodding, not trusting yourself to speak. he glanced at you, then at the name tag on your lanyard, and back again.

c: “you’re nineteen?”

you nodded again.

c: “fresh into undergrad?”

you: “second semester.”

his expression didn’t change, but something in his tone did.

c: “don’t try too hard to impress people. just learn. this office burns through interns when they get too ambitious.”

you weren’t sure if it was a warning or a compliment, but either way, your stomach flipped.

that was the beginning.

he didn’t ask personal questions. he didn’t like when you asked any, either. you learned quickly to only speak when spoken to. he’d give you notes to summarize, emails to proofread, errands to run, but he’d never say more than he needed to. still, you watched him. closely.

the way he leaned on the desk with one hand in his pocket. the way he rolled up his sleeves. the way his jaw flexed when someone called his phone and he didn’t answer. there was always this... tension around him. like a thread pulled too tight, waiting to snap.

you stayed late one night during your second week, hoping to prove you could keep up. the building was nearly empty by the time you returned the filed documents to his desk.

he was standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear. his voice was low and sharp.

c: “i said, i’m not doing this right now.”

a pause.

c: “you don’t get to call me and act like this is normal. it’s not.”

his knuckles were white around the edge of the desk. you froze.

c: “i told you. we're done, sana.”

sana. that was the first time you heard her name out loud. you backed away before he noticed, heart hammering. the door clicked shut behind you.

after that, something changed.

he wasn’t mean, but he was colder. snappier. he’d mutter under his breath sometimes, throw folders onto his desk hard enough to make you jump. but he never raised his voice at you. just everyone else.

you picked up the slack, staying past your assigned hours, quietly cleaning up the messes he didn’t have the energy to handle.

you told yourself it wasn’t because of the way his gaze lingered on your hands as you typed. it wasn’t because he started letting you sit beside him instead of across. it wasn’t because he said your name softer than he said anyone else’s.

you just... wanted to help.

one morning, he didn’t show up until noon. you were already at his desk, organizing reports he’d left in chaos the night before. when he walked in, sunglasses on and a coffee in hand, your breath hitched.

his tie was loose. his hair was messy. he looked exhausted. you stood.

you: “morning.”

he didn’t answer right away. just stared at you for a long second, then sighed.

c: “you’re early again.”

you hesitated.

you: “you didn’t finish these yesterday. thought i’d get ahead.”

he moved past you, slow and quiet, setting down his coffee.

c: “you don’t have to take care of my shit.”

your chest squeezed.

you: “you’re not the easiest person to work under.”

he glanced up.

c: “under, huh?”

your cheeks flamed. he didn’t laugh, but something about the smirk twitching at the corner of his lips made you want to sink into the carpet. he tapped the stack of papers you’d organized.

c: “thanks.”

it was the first time he said that to you. your throat felt tight. you kept hearing things.

sana’s name would pop up when he left the room, usually in whispers. a few coworkers joked about the “soap opera” happening in the executive wing, others avoided the topic entirely. you didn’t ask. you didn’t want to seem nosy.

but every time chris leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, you wondered if she was the reason for the dark circles under his eyes.

you hated that it made you feel better.

three weeks in, you were officially assigned as his assistant. no more shadowing. no more transitioning. just you and him.

he told you after hours, leaning against the filing cabinet with a beer in his hand.

c: “i requested you.”

your heart dropped.

you: “me?”

he nodded.

c: “you’re not afraid of me. most people are.”

you stared at him.

you: “should i be?”

he tilted his head.

c: “depends what you want from me.”

you laughed nervously.

you: “guidance? a good recommendation?”

his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

c: “you’ll get both if you survive me.”

you couldn’t tell if it was a threat or a promise.

when he started drinking in the office more often, you stopped questioning it.

he never got drunk. not around you. just... looser. more honest. when he offered you a sip one night while you worked late, you took it.

your fingers brushed. your skin tingled. he noticed. he always noticed. but he never said a word. not yet.

you started recognizing the pattern.

mornings were fine. quiet, efficient, all business. by mid-afternoon, the mood would shift. he’d close his door more often. snap at phone calls. take longer in the break room.

by the time sunset hit, he was someone else. not unkind. just… unraveling. you heard more of his conversations than you should have.

not on purpose. sometimes he left the door cracked open. sometimes you walked in without knocking. sometimes he just forgot you were there, tucked behind the filing cabinet or organizing reports near his desk.

you never meant to overhear. but you did.

c: “you’re the one who said we needed space, sana.”

c: “don’t act like this is some big betrayal. i didn’t lie. you left.”

and sometimes:

c: “i don’t want to do this right now.”

c: “no, not here. not with her here.”

you hated that part. with her here.

you were just his assistant. you weren’t supposed to matter. but sometimes it felt like you did.

you started dressing nicer for work.

just subtle things. tighter skirts. softer makeup. letting your blouse dip a little lower when you leaned over his desk. you told yourself it was for confidence. but when his gaze dropped to your mouth during meetings. lingered at your thighs when you sat too close, it felt like more than that.

you knew it was wrong. you knew he was vulnerable. you knew he wasn’t single, not really.

but it felt good to be looked at like that. especially by him.

the company dinner came at the end of the month.

everyone had to go. formal attire, small talk, networking. chris hated it. you knew he would before he even said a word. but he showed up anyway.

he wore all black. button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, silver watch glinting at his wrist. his hair was pushed back. he looked like sin.

you wore red. tight. too short.

when his eyes found you across the room, you felt it like a spark behind your ribs. you didn’t sit together. but his gaze never left.

it was near midnight when you left.

he offered you a ride. you said yes. he didn’t talk in the car. not until the second red light, when his hand clenched around the wheel.

c: “you looked good tonight.”

you swallowed.

you: “thank you.”

another beat of silence.

c: “didn’t like the way they were staring at you.”

you turned toward him.

you: “who?”

c: “everyone.”

he didn’t look at you. just kept driving. jaw tight. fingers twitching. when he pulled into his building’s parking garage, you blinked.

you: “this isn’t my dorm.”

c: “i know.”

you didn’t say no when he asked if you wanted to come up. you didn’t say anything at all.

his apartment was clean, but not lived in. like someone who didn’t spend much time inside his own head. the couch was too stiff. the lights were too low. there was a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter, half empty.

he poured two glasses. handed you one. you sipped. then he spoke.

c: “she cheated on me.”

you froze.

c: “sana.”

your mouth opened, nothing came out.

c: “months ago. i didn’t tell anyone. didn’t want them to see me differently.”

you set the glass down.

you: “why are you telling me this?”

he leaned back against the counter, tilting his head to look at you.

c: “because you look at me like i’m still worth something.”

your breath caught.

you: “you are.”

he stared at you. long. slow. eyes dark.

c: “don’t say that.”

you: “why not?”

he stepped closer. the room shrank around you. your heart thudded. he whispered:

c: “i wanna kiss you.”

it wasn’t rough. not at first. his hand curled behind your neck, fingers firm but gentle. his lips pressed into yours like he’d been thinking about this for weeks and didn’t want to mess it up.

you gasped when his tongue slid against yours, and he swallowed the sound.

his other hand splayed across your waist. you felt small under him, delicate. he kissed you like it meant something. like you weren’t just his intern, or his assistant, or nineteen. you kissed him back like you forgot all the reasons you shouldn’t.

c: “tell me to stop.”

he whispered it against your mouth. desperate. scared. you didn’t, shacking your head. he kissed you harder after that.

your back hit the counter. his hand slid under your blouse. his fingers were warm against your bare skin, calloused, slow.

c: “fuck.”

he said it like a prayer, like a warning.

c: “been trying so hard to be good.”

you whimpered when he pulled your dress down.

you: “c-chris..”

hearing you call his name broke him.

his hands were everywhere. tracing your waist, your thighs, the soft stretch of your stomach. he dropped to his knees like he needed to worship you. like this was some holy thing. he kissed your skin slowly, reverently. lips brushing over your hipbones, your inner thighs. then he looked up at you.

c: “you want this?”

you nodded, dizzy with it.

you: “please.”

he smiled. not smug. soft.

c: “good girl.”

and then his mouth was on you. you cried out, head thrown back, hands in his hair. he was relentless. slow, thorough, lips curling around your clit with practiced skill. you’d never felt anything like it.

when you came, you shook. when he stood, his lips were shiny with you. he kissed you again before you could speak.

c: “gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

you believed him. he didn’t fuck you that night. not all the way.

he fingered you open on the couch. two thick fingers stretching you slowly, working you through another orgasm while you sobbed into his chest.

c: “too small to take me yet.”

he said it gently, like a promise.

c: “we’ll fix that.”

you nodded, breathless. you didn’t ask what this meant. you didn’t ask about sana. you just fell asleep on his couch, in nothing but underwear, aching between your legs.

when you woke up, he was gone. but his jacket was draped over you.

he didn’t look at you for two days.

he still spoke to you. short, clipped phrases, voice flat and professional. but his eyes never met yours. not in meetings. not in passing. not even when you knocked on his door and set his coffee down beside him like always.

you thought maybe you’d imagined it.

maybe the whiskey, the late night, the way his mouth felt on your thighs. maybe it was all just some consequence of him breaking apart. maybe you were a placeholder. something easy. something young.

but on the third day, everything changed again.

you stayed late finishing a report someone else was supposed to do. he’d sent a single text at 6:42 PM: c: “still in the office?”

you didn’t answer. not with words. you knocked gently on his door a few minutes later. he didn’t say anything, just gestured for you to come in. he was alone. lights dimmed. jacket off. you sat down across from him, heart thudding.

you: “i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to-”

he cut you off.

c: “i haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

you blinked.

you: “what?”

he leaned forward. forearms on his desk. voice low.

c: “you.”

your breath hitched.

c: “how tight you were around my fingers.”

your thighs clenched. you looked down.

c: “the way you begged.”

he stood slowly, rounded the desk. your whole body tensed as he came to stand behind your chair.

c: “you’re too young for this. you’ve never had someone like me.”

you: “b-but i want it..”

he bent forward, lips brushing your ear.

c: “then get up.”

he didn’t take you to the couch. this time, he bent you over his desk. your palms were flat against cold wood. your skirt pushed up over your hips. panties peeled down so slowly it made you shiver.

c: “you trust me?”

you nodded. you felt his hand slide down the length of your spine.

c: “you’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

you: “y-yes, chris.”

the moan he let out was soft. dangerous.

c: “say it again.”

you: “c-chris..”

c: “fuck.”

his fingers were slick with your arousal before they even reached your entrance.

c: “so wet already. you like being used like this?”

you nodded, whining when he pressed a finger inside you. he curled it. you gasped.

c: “i should’ve known.”

he added a second.

c: “knew you’d be tight.”

you: “i-i want more.”

c: “more? princess, this is just the warm-up.”

you whimpered when he pumped them harder. you were dripping. soaking his hand, trembling against the desk.

c: “you can barely take two. how’re you gonna take my cock?”

your breath caught.

you: “i’ll do anything. p-please.”

he growled low in his throat.

c: “you’re gonna have to learn.”

you nodded frantically.

he made you get on your knees next. face pressed into the carpet. ass in the air. skirt bunched at your waist. he stood behind you, watching. you heard him unzip. you didn’t dare look.

c: “you sure?”

you: “please..”

his hand slid between your legs again. he was so careful. so slow. his cock pressed against your soaked folds, rubbing up and down, not quite entering. just teasing. just warming you up.

c: “you’re tiny, princess.”

you moaned.

c: “need to get you used to it first.”

and then the tip pushed in.

your jaw dropped. no sound came out. he stayed still.

c: “breathe.”

you tried. you really did. he was thick. so thick. stretching you in ways you’d never felt before.

you: “chr-”

c: “shh. doing so good.”

he pushed in another inch. then another. your hands clawed at the carpet.

you: “it’s t-too big.”

c: “you can take it. i know you can.”

he didn’t move too fast. didn’t rush. he coaxed your body to open, whispering praise the entire time.

c: “good girl.”

c: “that’s it.”

c: “taking me so well.”

when he bottomed out, your body was shaking.

c: “fuck, baby.”

he pulled out slowly, then slid back in. you sobbed. from pain and how full you felt. how completely he owned you in that moment.

c: “tightest pussy i’ve ever felt.”

he started to move. slow strokes. dragging himself out, pushing back in just a little deeper each time. your voice was broken.

c: “not done yet.”

he reached around to rub your clit, smirking when your hips jerked.

c: “there you go.”

you came hard. nearly collapsed. but he didn’t stop. he pulled out with a wet sound, then lifted you up. turned you to face him, legs spread over his desk now. you were dripping down your thighs, wrecked, shaking.

c: “gonna do that again.”

you: “i-i c-ca-”

c: “you can. you want to be mine, right?”

your eyes fluttered.

you: “yes..”

c: “then take it.”

and you did. again and again. he made you come twice more before he finally let himself go. pulling out to finish across your stomach, moaning your name like it meant something. when it was over, he cleaned you up gently. kissed your lips softly. then whispered:

c: “next time, i'll go deeper.”

you nodded, dazed. you were already addicted. it started happening after hours. always after hours.

he’d wait until the rest of the office cleared out, until the halls were quiet, until you were the only one left organizing files or rewriting emails for him. then he’d lock the door. close the blinds. take off his watch and roll his sleeves up.

c: “up.”

he’d nod toward the desk, and you’d climb up without hesitation. thighs parting, eyes wide, waiting. his fingers always came first. then his cock. never all the way. not yet.

c: “you’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

you: “yes, chris.”

c: “good girl.”

he was careful. methodical. like he was building you into something. like every stretch, every thrust, every orgasm was part of a process you didn’t fully understand. but you trusted him with it anyway.

by the third week, he was fitting half of it in.

you could feel the difference. your body wasn’t fighting it anymore. he’d murmur praise the whole time, his voice dropping into that rough, low register that made your stomach flip.

c: “you’re learning so fast. tight little pussy starting to open for me.”

sometimes he’d have you ride just the tip while he watched. hands on your hips, guiding you.

c: “that’s it. bounce. just like that.”

you’d moan through your teeth, thighs trembling, trying to please him.

you: “am i doing good?”

and he’d always answer the same way:

c: “you’re perfect.”

you started needing him.

not just the sex. not just the stretch and the pressure and the mind-numbing release, but him. the way he spoke to you. the way he touched you after, brushing sweat-damp hair from your face. the way he held you against his chest and breathed in the scent of your skin like it grounded him.

he was still seeing sana. sort of. you didn’t ask. he didn’t explain.

but sometimes you saw her name flash across his screen during late nights. he never picked up. just stared at the phone, jaw tense, before setting it down again. you told yourself it didn’t matter. but sometimes, it did.

friday came faster than usual.

you wore a tight navy dress, one he hadn’t seen yet. you felt his eyes follow you from the printer to his desk and back again, burning holes in your skin the entire time.

by 6:30, the office was empty.

you waited for the lock to click. it didn’t. he stood up slowly, eyes still on his monitor.

c: “we’re going to the conference room.”

you blinked.

you: “what?”

c: “now.”

he didn’t give you time to respond. just grabbed his laptop and started walking. you scrambled to follow.

the conference room was bigger than his office. softer chairs. darker windows. a long mahogany table that echoed slightly when you set your palms against it. he closed the blinds. then turned to face you.

c: “take off the dress.”

your breath hitched.

you: “here?”

c: “you want to learn how to take my cock or not?”

your thighs clenched at the tone. rough. low. almost mean. you stripped fast. no teasing this time. no slow peel. just pulling fabric over your head and letting it fall to the floor. you didn’t wear a bra. his eyes dropped.

c: “on the table.”

you hopped up. legs spread. he knelt between them.

c: “gonna make you come first.”

you gasped when his mouth hit your clit. no warning, no buildup, just suction. he licked and licked until you were grabbing the edge of the table, legs shaking, hips bucking.

you came in record time. and again. and again. he only stopped when your thighs started twitching, eyes glassy, lips parted in disbelief.

c: “now you’re ready.”

you barely registered the sound of his zipper.

but you felt him.

the stretch was deeper tonight. more intense. he pushed in slow, watching your face, waiting for any sign of resistance. there was none. you were soaked. ruined. ready.

you: “chris, fuck-”

c: “you’re taking more of me than ever.”

you looked down. you weren’t even halfway.

you: “i-i want it all..”

his eyes darkened.

c: “you can barely handle this.”

you: “i’ll do anything..”

he pulled out, flipped you over. bent you face-down over the table, one hand on your lower back to keep you in place.

c: “then hold still.”

he pushed in again, slowly, inch by inch. the angle was brutal. deeper, sharper. you were moaning uncontrollably, legs trembling, nails scratching the wood.

c: “this what you wanted, baby?”

you: “yes-”

c: “stuffed full in the office like a little fucktoy?”

you sobbed.

you: “chris, i-”

c: “say it.”

you: “i-i’m yours..”

he groaned like it broke something inside him.

c: “fuck, i know.”

he started moving faster, hips slapping against your ass, cock dragging over all the spots that made you see stars.

c: “my assistant. my good girl. my tight little princess.”

you were crying, coming again, babbling into the table.

he didn’t stop.

he didn’t stop until you went limp, wrecked, dripping down your legs, begging for mercy. he pulled out just before he finished. jerking himself over your back, panting, moaning your name.

then silence.

he helped you up gently. held your body close, rubbed your spine while you caught your breath. then:

c: “you took almost all of it tonight.”

you blinked up at him, still dazed.

you: “r-really?”

he smiled. cupped your cheek.

c: “next time, we go all the way.”

your heart stuttered.

you: “next time?”

his thumb brushed your lower lip.

c: “you’re mine now.”

it started with the phone call.

the one you overheard when you were supposed to be finishing a report. you heard his voice through the closed door. low, familiar, the kind of tone that always made you feel like you were standing too close to something dangerous.

c: “sana.”

his voice was stiff, strained, like he was already exhausted. this wasn’t a good sign.

you tried to ignore it. really, you did. the soft thud of his voice as he spoke to her, the way he asked if she was “coming by later,” and then the awkward silence that followed.

you’d heard that kind of silence before. it was always there when they were struggling. always there when he was torn between his career and his relationship. you hated that you knew it so well. hated that it still made your stomach drop to hear his voice soften just a little when he mentioned her.

your phone buzzed on the desk.

c: “can you come in here?”

you swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before you stood. your legs felt heavy as you walked to his office. when you stepped inside, he was already sitting behind his desk, phone set aside. his eyes flicked to you immediately.

c: “come here.”

you hesitated, but only for a second.

he looked different.

not just the tiredness in his eyes, but something more. something darker. when you stepped close enough, he reached out to pull you into his lap. you tensed, and for a split second, you thought he might say something about her. you thought he might mention her name again.

but he didn’t.

his hands were rough against your thighs, making you shiver.

c: “you’re distracted.”

you blinked.

you: “what?”

c: “you’ve been avoiding me.”

his fingers dug into your skin. your breath hitched as you tried to pull away.

you: “i hav-”

c: “don’t lie.”

his voice dropped an octave. harsh. possessive.

c: “you’re distracted. you’ve been thinking about her, haven’t you?”

you flinched.

you: “no.”

he gave you a pointed look.

c: “don’t lie to me.”

the words hung between you like a challenge. an accusation. you weren’t allowed to lie anymore.

his grip tightened, pulling you flush against his chest.

c: “i can feel it.”

you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. there was no hiding from him.

his lips were barely an inch away, his breath warm on your cheek.

c: “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

you: “yes.”

his hand slid under your skirt, and you shivered. he groaned at the softness of your skin.

c: “i can’t let you go.”

his thumb stroked over the waistband of your panties.

c: “let me have you.”

you: “chris, please-”

he cut you off with a harsh kiss. deep. possessive. you melted into him, hands gripping his shirt, gasping as his lips trailed down your neck.

c: “let me mark you.”

your heart raced.

you: “mark me?”

he nodded, his teeth grazing your ear.

c: “make sure you know you belong to me.”

his mouth slid down your collarbone. the pressure of his lips was intense, bruising, and you moaned quietly.

c: “tell me you’re mine.”

you: “i’m yours.”

he groaned, hands sliding under your dress. he pushed your panties to the side with one swift motion, his fingers slipping between your folds. you gasped as his thumb circled your clit.

c: “so wet already.”

he pushed a finger inside you. then another. slowly, teasingly. you moaned, hands gripping his shoulder as he stretched you.

c: “you want me to fuck you?”

you nodded desperately.

you: “please, chris, please.”

he pulled his fingers out slowly, leaning back just enough to watch your face.

c: “no more games.”

he unbuckled his belt, and you watched, heart pounding, as he pushed his pants down, revealing his thick cock.

he pushed you back onto the desk.

c: “on your back.”

he wasn’t gentle anymore.

he pushed into you hard, making you gasp. he didn’t wait for you to adjust. he just took what he wanted. took you.

c: “so fucking tight.”

he fucked into you relentlessly, hips slapping against yours with every thrust. the desk rattled beneath you. his hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head.

c: “tell me you’re mine.”

you: “i’m yours..”

he groaned, his thrusts becoming rougher, deeper.

c: “you’ll always be mine.”

his cock slid in and out of you at a punishing pace, hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. you couldn’t think. couldn’t breathe. couldn’t do anything except feel. his mouth claimed yours again, swallowing your moans as he fucked you harder.

c: “say it again.”

you: “i’m yours, chris..”

he cursed under his breath.

c: “good girl.”

he came inside you, the heat spreading deep in your core. he groaned, his body shaking as he pulled out slowly, keeping his eyes on you. you barely had time to recover before he pulled you up into his arms, his lips soft on your forehead.

c: “you’re mine, baby. always.”

you closed your eyes, a feeling of contentment spreading through you. the ache between your legs, the feeling of being filled. all of it yours.

but in the back of your mind, something lingered. a fear, maybe. a doubt. the phone call. sana. the way he looked at her name. you wanted to push it down. ignore it. but it was there. and you didn’t know if it would ever go away.

you were trying to pretend nothing was happening.

trying to go back to being just his assistant, just the girl in the pencil skirt who brought him coffee and took notes and smiled when he made a joke during meetings.

but it wasn’t that simple anymore.

not when you had marks on your thighs that only he could’ve left. not when your panties were still damp from the way he’d fucked you over his desk last night. not when you could still feel the ghost of his lips at your neck every time he passed behind you.

he wasn’t pretending either.

he’d stopped hiding it. completely. he was always watching. always close. hands on your lower back when no one was looking. brushing his fingers along your thigh under the table. calling you into his office for things that could’ve easily been an email. just so he could watch you squirm while he sat behind his desk with that knowing look. and then there was today.

the first time it happened in public.

the office had been buzzing all morning. a new project. senior managers from another branch visiting. you were tasked with helping prepare the pitch deck, which meant sitting in on a lot of meetings you normally wouldn’t.

which meant sitting across from him.

it was the longest you’d gone without touching in days. you thought maybe it would be okay. that you could keep your cool, be professional, not let what happened last night cloud your judgment.

but chris had other plans.

he watched you the entire time. every time you looked up, his eyes were already on you. when you shifted in your seat, pressing your thighs together discreetly, he tilted his head. when your pen slipped from your hand and clattered to the floor, he watched you bend to get it like he’d imagined it a hundred times. and when you sat up straight again, cheeks flushed, heart racing. he smirked.

you wanted to scream.

you thought maybe that was it. that he was just teasing you. that he was trying to push your buttons. until the meeting ended. and one of the managers. some guy from out of town, a little too friendly, a little too bold. approached you while everyone filed out.

him: “you’re chris’s assistant?”

you nodded, polite smile in place.

him: “i have to say, they didn’t mention you were this pretty.”

you blinked. awkward. flustered.

you: “um. thank you-?”

he leaned in a little.

him: “you free for lunch?”

you opened your mouth to decline, and then you saw him.

chris.

watching from the doorway. his expression was unreadable. but his jaw was clenched. his hand in his pocket. his eyes locked on the two of you like a threat. you turned back to the other guy.

you: “i have a meeting.”

him: “oh?”

you: “with my boss.”

you felt chris move before you saw him. he was behind you in a second, his hand firm at your waist, his voice calm but cold.

c: “she’s not available.”

the guy blinked.

him: “right, of course. no worries.”

chris didn’t say another word. just waited until he walked away. then leaned in close enough to graze your ear.

c: “come with me.”

you barely made it to his office before he slammed the door shut behind you. you didn’t even get a word out. his hands were on you instantly. spinning you around, pressing your back to the door, mouth crashing into yours like he couldn’t wait another second.

you moaned into the kiss, hands in his hair, pulling him closer. he groaned when you tugged, hips pinning yours against the wood.

c: “he touched you?”

you: “no.”

c: “he looked at you.”

you: “i didn’t do any-”

c: “you let him talk to you.”

his tone was dangerous. jealous. possessive.

you: “i said no.”

he exhaled roughly. fingers gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

c: “you’re mine.”

you nodded. breathless. his hand slid under your skirt.

c: “say it.”

you: “i’m yours, chris.”

he didn’t waste another second. he pulled your panties down roughly, letting them fall to your heels. his fingers stroked through your folds and he cursed under his breath.

c: “fucking soaked.”

he undid his pants quickly, not even bothering to sit down. just pushing your thighs apart and lifting one leg around his waist as he lined himself up.

you: “someone coul-”

c: “don’t care.”

he pushed in, slowly but firmly.

you gasped. the stretch always burned at first, but it was addicting. you’d been craving it all morning. he pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in. you cried out, hands scrambling for purchase against his shoulders.

c: “say it again.”

you: “i’m yours- i’m yours, fuck-”

he fucked you hard against the door, his thrusts deep and punishing, one hand gripping your hip, the other around your throat, just enough to remind you who you belonged to. his teeth grazed your jaw, your neck, your collarbone.

c: “no one else gets to touch you.”

c: “no one else gets to look.”

c: “you’re mine to ruin.”

you came with a broken moan, your body shaking in his arms. he wasn’t far behind. his hips stuttered, his breath caught, and then he was spilling inside you. pulsing, groaning, holding you still as he filled you up. you slumped against him, panting. his hand stroked down your back.

c: “i need everyone to know.”

you: “know what?”

his voice was low. dangerous.

c: “that you’re off limits.”

you left his office fifteen minutes later.

hair fixed. dress straightened. your panties balled up in his pocket. and when you passed the same manager in the hallway, he barely glanced at you. but you felt it. chris’s eyes on you from the corner. his stare, hot and hungry, never letting go.

you should’ve been more careful.

you should’ve taken your time packing your bag, should’ve avoided the elevator that late in the evening, should’ve texted him before heading back up to the office. but you didn’t.

you were the last one there. the building was mostly dark. a few floor lights still buzzing with that fluorescent hum. you just needed your charger. and maybe a few minutes to breathe. but when the door to his office cracked open, when you saw that warm light spilling out onto the hallway carpet. you knew you weren’t alone.

you pushed the door open slowly. and there he was. chris. sleeves rolled, tie loose, shirt open just enough to show the deep ridge of his collarbone. he didn’t even look surprised to see you.

c: “knew you’d come back.”

you hesitated.

you: “i forgot my charger.”

he stood up slowly. walked around the desk. the air changed when he looked at you like that. not annoyed, not amused but calm, heavy, intense.

c: “sit.”

you blinked.

you: “chris-”

c: “what did i say?”

you obeyed. your thighs pressed together automatically as you sank into the leather seat. your heart was pounding already, but you weren’t scared. you were anticipating. he stood in front of you, arms crossed, his voice dangerously low.

c: “you’ve been avoiding this.”

you swallowed hard.

you: “i haven-”

c: “don’t lie.”

he knelt down slowly between your legs, resting his hands on your knees.

c: “you’ve let me fuck you, tease you, fill you halfway.”

his fingers crept higher.

c: “but you’ve been holding back.”

your breath caught in your throat. you knew what he meant. the size training. the way he’d stopped himself from going all the way every time. the way he’d make you beg, then pull out when you got too tight. because he was too big, and you weren’t ready.

but now…? now his hands were curling under your thighs, tugging you closer.

c: “no more excuses.”

c: “you’re going to take all of me.”

your core pulsed at his words.

you: “chris…”

c: “don’t worry.”

his voice softened. his hands smoothed up your sides.

c: “i’ll make it fit.”

he kissed you slow, tongue sliding against yours, patient but possessive. he took his time undressing you. undoing each button like it was sacred. peeling your shirt off, unclipping your bra, dragging your skirt up until it bunched at your waist.

c: “so pretty like this.”

you watched with wide eyes as he unzipped his pants, freeing his thick cock. hard, already dripping. intimidating. you licked your lips. he caught the movement.

c: “you want it?”

you nodded. breathless.

you: “please..”

he laid you down across the couch, parting your legs slowly, kissing each thigh before pulling your panties off. he was gentle at first. two fingers. then three. working you open, coaxing slick from you with every soft curl of his wrist. he watched your face the whole time, making sure you weren’t overwhelmed.

c: “you’re doing so good.”

you moaned, eyes fluttering.

c: “gonna take me so well, baby.”

he lined himself up. his tip pressed against your entrance, and you gasped at the stretch already and he hadn’t even pushed in. you clutched at his shoulders as he slid in inch by inch. slow. thick. deep.

you: “s-shit, chris-”

he kissed your cheek, whispering against your skin.

c: “breathe, baby. i’ve got you.”

you tried. really. your body was trembling already, walls fluttering around him, and he wasn’t even halfway. he paused, rubbing circles on your hips.

c: “you okay?”

you nodded, nails digging into his back. he smiled. dark, proud.

c: “that’s my girl.”

he kept going. inch by inch, stretching you wide. your walls burned, your breath hitched, your legs shook. but you didn’t stop. and neither did he.

you: “i-its too m-much.”

c: “all the way, princess. just a little more-”

when his hips finally met yours, when he bottomed out completely, you almost sobbed. you were so full, you couldn’t think. couldn’t breathe. your body felt like it was on fire. he didn’t move. just kissed your forehead, nose, lips.

c: “you did it.”

c: “you took all of me.”

you moaned, your voice trembling. he smiled against your skin.

c: “you were made for me.”

when he pulled back and thrust in again, the air left your lungs.

you: “chris-!”

his rhythm was slow. deep. precise. every drag of his cock felt like he was reshaping you, molding you around him.

c: “gonna fuck you just like this. every day.”

c: “train you to take it better. deeper.”

you cried out as he hit a spot so deep it made your vision blur.

you: “i c-ca-”

c: “you can. and you will.”

he pressed your knees up, folding you under him, pushing even deeper. you sobbed out a moan, tears slipping down your cheek.

c: “that’s it. cry for me.”

c: “you love it. being full. stretched. ruined.”

you were shaking. you came hard. full body, overwhelming, the kind that made your limbs go numb. and he kept fucking you through it.

you: “too much- chr- i’m gon-”

c: “do it.”

c: “cum on my cock while i fill you up.”

he groaned as your walls clamped down, and then he was spilling inside you, deep and messy, his body shuddering as he collapsed over you. both of you panting.

both of you wrecked.

he didn’t pull out right away. he just held you. kissed your jaw, your shoulder, your chest. his cum was dripping down your thighs. you didn’t even care. his voice was quiet against your temple.

c: “you’re mine now.”

you nodded. whispering it back.

you: “yours.”

c: “no one else gets to touch you.”

he smiled. soft. but there was something in his eyes. that hunger, still there, even now.

c: “i’m not done with you.”

you knew that already. because this wasn’t just a one-time mistake. this was possession.

and he wasn’t letting you go.

#—♡︎vampzity’s favs #definitely read this on my flight home…#i need him so bad…#EXPEDITIOUSLY #CHRIS WHEN I CATCH YOU OMG I STG #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut

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