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whydoeseveryonewanttobangchan · 11 months

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PART 2: 🚪 What’s wrong with a little privacy, huh? 🚪

✎ Pairing: Chan x fem!reader

✎ Genre: Smut

✎ Summary: Your boyfriend takes you out to a nice restaurant, but you end up eating something not on the menu.

✎ CW: Oral sex, hand job, masturbation, kissing, public diddly-dooing, food play

✎ Word count: 2,666 😈

✩ A/N: Part 1: What’s wrong with a little privacy, huh? ✩

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The door swings open slowly, and the waiter appears, balancing a tray of shellfish in his hands. It takes a few seconds to see you, to register what he’s actually looking at: you jumping up out of Chan’s lap to stand next to his chair, face absolutely red as a cherry tomato.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the waiter says, turning his eyes to the floor as he brings the tray to the table.

“No, I’m so sorry. We got carried away… this is entirely our fault I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely.

Chan can’t speak, nor can he wipe that stupid grin off his stupidly cute face.

“Honestly, ma’am, it’s not the worst thing I’ve walked in on…” the waiter says as he places the tray in the middle of the table. “We made signs in case things like this happen, in case people want to use this room for… more. I’ll put one on the door.”

He nods respectfully and disappears once again, shutting the door behind him. Your eyes meet Chan’s once you’re alone again, and your reactions couldn’t be more different.

While you fight every urge to melt into a puddle, your boyfriend bursts out laughing. The embarrassment you feel is unfortunately nothing compared to the sheer love and adoration you have for this goofy man and his breathy, squeaky laugh.

“We’re gonna get banned, you know,” you scold.

“Naur, he said this happens. We get a sign!” he says cheekily, standing and holding your face in his palms. “Our very own sign, sweetheart.”

“Oh god…” you sigh and bury your face in his chest, hoping if you push hard enough you can just bust through his ribs and live inside his torso and escape this awkward hell.

“Hey… it’s ok,” he comforts you, rubbing the back of your head. “On the bright side, now we can really get into it.”

Your head snaps back up.

“You… you cannot be serious,” you say incredulously.

“What? We have a sign now,” he reasons, rubbing your back. “We have to do something worthy of the sign.”

“You’re absolutely insatiable,” you say, lightly pushing off of his chest to return to your seat.

“Here, allow me,” he says, rushing to the back of your chair to move it closer to the table.

“No, you’re not a gentleman anymore, you can’t fool me.”

Chan places his hands on your shoulders and leans down to put his lips right next to your ear.

“Well, I may not be gentle,” he croons, “but I am your man.”

After the last word, his soft, wet lips meet your cheek and apply gentle pressure before disappearing again so he can rejoin you at the table, like civilized diners. He sits and smiles at you as he unrolls his napkin and turns his attention to the steaming tray of shellfish.

You pick up a clam and use a small fork to loosen it from its shell before sliding it into your mouth, and Chan does the same.

“How is it?” you ask as he chews.

“Really good, needs a little more salt, though,” he answers.

“Agreed,” you echo, reaching for the salt shaker between your plates, but his hand lands there first.

“Hold on,” he says, keeping his long fingers between you and the salt. “I kinda wanna try something.”

“What would that be?”

“How about a… different kind of… sauce?” he says, cheeks reddening more than you’ve ever seen and trying his best to hold back a giggle.

You raise one brow at him, waiting for him to elaborate on whatever ridiculous scheme he’s cooking up, but he just smirks at you.

“I’m not asking the waiter for extra shit after that…” you start.

“…nonono. I mean…” he sighs. “Do you really need me to specify?”

Your unwavering gaze screams yes.

“What if I add… a little taste of… Australia?” he says sheepishly. “You know…”

You completely lose control the moment realization hits, and you can’t contain your laughter.

“Chan… you want to… come in an oyster? Is that what you’re telling me right now?” you ask, barely getting the words out between deep breaths and long chuckles.

His pretty lips turn down into a frown.

“Hey… don’t laugh. I was trying to be… kind of sexy…” he says, voice dropping off at the end.

“Hey, it is. Kind of. It’s also incredibly silly,” you clarify, but one look at his embarrassed expression has you changing your tune.

“But…” you sigh. “I’m down.”

His gaze is still aimed down at his plate, but he perks up a little.

“Really? I mean, I know it’s silly, but…” he pauses and slowly runs his eyes up your chest, your neck, to land on your lips. “It would be kind of hot… watching you eat it…”

His lustful eyes plead with your mouth, like if he just stared enough he could get his come on your tongue. And at that moment, there’s nothing you want more than to give him what he wants.

“Well…” you start, picking up a larger oyster. “You said it needed more salt. Why don’t you help me out, then?”

You extend your arm across the table, offering the shellfish to him. He hesitantly reaches for it, but you can see the smile growing.

“My pleasure,” he finally says with a devilish grin. “Hold on…”

He gently takes the oyster from your hand and floats it over his plate, over the edge of the table, and down into his lap.

You interlace your fingers and place them under your chin, propping yourself up on the table with your elbows. Just watching him.

He fumbles for a bit, then looks back up at you.

“I don’t want to overwhelm your tastebuds, so I’ll start light,” he decides. “Just the appetizer version to sample, yeah?”

You hum in response, hypnotized by the way his shoulders and biceps flex and move. He reaches under the table and squeezes your knee before speaking again.

“Ok, here I go.”

You can’t see his hand work, but you’ve watched him enough to picture exactly what he’s doing out of view.

He’ll tightly grip his cockhead — not wasting time with the touching and teasing you enjoy when you’re at the helm — and he’ll stroke quickly. He’s much more no-nonsense, especially when the events that will follow are even more exciting than the sensation itself.

His bottom lip disappears between his teeth as his forearm moves up and down just enough to lure some of this… sauce… to the surface. But his eyes stay on your face — on your lips — as the rest of him shakes slightly.

“Almost…” he moans softly. “Just need… a little.”

Once he’s gathered an acceptable amount of precum in the shell, he stops and lifts it back above the table, and holds it above his plate. His dark eyes are glued to your lips, and his chest rises and falls gently.

“Well… what are you waiting for?” you ask, hand outstretched across the table. “Give it here.”

He hesitates, just for a second, then drops the oyster in your palm.

“I hope it tastes all right,” he says mischievously.

You lift the shell to your lips and tilt your head back, letting the oyster and the sauce slide onto your tongue. It sits there for a few seconds, the flavors sinking into your tastebuds.

“Sooooo, tell me,” Chan urges. “How is it? Enough salt?”

One eyebrow raises as you purse your lips and stare. Leaving him in suspense for a few more seconds can’t hurt. But then he tilts his head a little to the left and pleads with those pretty eyes, and you know you lost.

“Honestly?” you ask, and he quickly nods. “Not salty enough. I think you can do better.”

One side of his mouth pulls up and reveals that cute dimple. You knew this would get him; he can’t resist a challenge.

“Fine, give me another,” he says, reaching toward the tray, but you grab his wrist before his fingers touch a shell.

“No, let me.”

You slowly push your chair back and slide down, knees softly hitting the floor. Your hands touch the cool tile next as you begin to crawl under the table.

“Maybe we just need a better chef for this…” you purr. “Someone with more… delicate hands.”

Cold fingers surround his warm cock, and you let the rush of blood beneath his skin return your hand to a normal temperature before moving it up and down, up and down.

His head falls back and his big hands grip the armrests as you settle on your knees just in front of his chair. His legs part as wide as the chair will allow for you, for your hand, your lips…

You decide against teasing him more this time and just give him what he wants instead. After all, it’s what you want, too. And judging by the taste of his precum, you’re in for a treat.

One hand works slowly near the base while you close your lips around him. It’s gentle at first, like if you squeeze or suck too hard you might break him. And you’d hate to spill his metaphorical salt and bring on bad luck — the devil may appear over your shoulder, convincing you to do dirty things, evil things. But that does sound like fun…

You suck harder now, hollowing out your cheeks to apply wet pressure on all sides of him. And you take him in so deeply, just a little deeper with each bob of your head. Giving him more of you, more of your throat. But it’s not enough, because his hand is in your hair, pushing you further down into his lap.

“Ohhhhh my god,” he breathes, trying his best to stay relatively quiet. “Jesus christ…”

His fingers interlace with the long strands at the back of your skull, pulling you up and down at a comfortable pace. He’s not worried about speed, he just wants to feel all of you.

He wants to go as far into you as he can — and then some. Feel the pressure from your lips and your cheeks and your tongue and the small gap at the back of your mouth and the tight ridges at the top of your throat. He loves this, and he’s so fucking lucky you don’t have a strong gag reflex.

“Baby doll…” he trails off as he slowly fucks your mouth. “You feel amazing, oh my girl, my beautiful… ohhh…”

His hips slide forward in the chair, and his thighs start to quake. He’s close.

You slide your unoccupied hand over his legs and up between his torso and the table, keeping your palm open like you’re asking him to hand you something. He grabs your hand to hold it, though, and his touch is sweet and wonderful, but it’s not what you need right now.

“What?” he laughs as you shake him off. “What do you need, baby?”

You close your fingers and thumb together and open them slowly, trying to imitate the opening of a shell. He hands you a napkin, and you throw it back on the table. He tries a small plate next, and you do your best to place that one down gently.

“I don’t know what to give you, honey,” he sighs.

You try your best shellfish impression again, and he’s silent for a few seconds, then…

“OH!”

An oyster gently lands in your palm, and you pull it back down under the table. Chan chuckles to himself and you get back to work right as a knock sounds at the door.

“Everything ok in there, sir? Can I get you two anything?” the waiter asks.

“Uh, no, we’re fine! T-thank you!” Chan calls out, his voice surprisingly steady given the circumstance.

Footsteps recede down the hallway, and Chan speaks again in a hushed voice.

“You almost got us in trouble again.”

You pull back from his cock to defend yourself.

“No, that’s you and your big ass mouth,” you tease. “I know I feel amazing, but have some self-control.”

His soft laugh quickly turns into a breathy moan as you take him back into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat a few times before you switch to targeting his most sensitive spots.

One hand grips his base while the other cups his balls, and his hands are gripping the arms of his chair for dear life. Your tongue runs up and down his shaft, breaking the rhythm every now and then to circle his tip or press into his slit.

“Close, b-baby,” he whines. “G-get ready.”

Tongue laid flat across your bottom lip, you press into the underside of his head to wait for your treat. The oyster is nearby, too, ready to catch a little bit for itself.

He doesn’t make it easy, though. Chan comes in strong waves, the first shooting straight back into your throat, the next weakly rolling down your tongue and onto your chest, the third landing safely on the back of your tongue.

You move the oyster into the stream for a second or two, just long enough to get some flavor. The rest is yours to savor on its own.

The bitterness hits your tongue first, but the longer it swirls and lingers on your tastebuds, you get the sweet and tangy notes. You could drink an entire glass of him.

“Fuck…”

You push his chair back and crawl forward enough to stand without hitting your head. His eyes find your face for the first time since you crawled under the table, and his lips pull into a wide smile.

“Oh god,” he giggles. “You look, uh.”

Your hand goes to your hair — the tangled mess that was once your nice date night hair. And you can feel the sticky warmth on your lips, your chin, your chest. You must look ruined.

“Well, let’s see if it was worth it,” you chirp, leaning back to sit on the edge of the table and slip the oyster into your mouth.

Your eyebrows pull down as you assess the flavors. Salty is more than covered this time, and that tangy sweetness complements the shellfish perfectly. It’s surprisingly actually really good. But you can’t let him off that easily.

“Hmmmmm,” you muse, staring up and off into the corner of the room. But you sneak a glance at his face — his sweet, anxious, expectant face — and those warm, loving eyes, and you can feel yourself losing the battle once again.

“Please, how is it?” he asks, almost pleadingly. His chest still rises and falls and his neck glistens with a few drops of sweat in the most beautiful way. Who are you kidding? You can’t resist him.

“Honestly, baby? It’s pretty fucking good,” you admit.

Somehow, his smile gets even wider, and he pulls you into his lap again. His gorgeous eyes stare into yours in the sweetest mix of love and pride as he pulls you close for a gentle kiss. Noses still touching afterward, he speaks.

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel good, are you?”

“I thought I already did that,” you quip and reattach your lips.

He smiles into the kiss and tightens his hold around your waist, and then there’s another knock at the door.

“Hello again, just checking in,” the waiter says from the hallway.

Chan looks up at you with nothing but joy and adoration in his eyes when he yells, “Actually, we’re gonna make out for the next half hour, so if you could come back after, that would be great.”

“Of course sir, I’ll set a timer,” the waiter says, and you think you can hear him laugh.

“Guess we have a half hour then,” you tease, physically unable to hold back your smile.

“Better make the most of it,” he replies, pulling you impossibly close for yet another mind-blowing kiss.

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🏷️ @drhsthl @3rachasninja @channieand08 @ikykleeknowww @anjian3 @tooskathepiratefromshield @channiesbabygirl 🏷️

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