Hiii my name is Lenny, I use she/her, speak spanish & english and I’m simply a fic writer! I write fics about whatever I’m interested in, and this is mainly for fun. So sorry I’m in not very fast/consistent with my uploads!
Oh also, every fic IS cross posted on my AO3.
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 interests
K-pop: Right now I’m mainly into Stay kids, Enhypen, and Tomorrow x Together. I might write with enhypen and txt eventually… just not right now!! And tryna get into nct wish + ateez. Def won’t write with sakuya and ryo. They’re still babies!
And that’s pretty much it for this :p other than some gg but I don’t think I’ll write with them!!
𐔌՞꜆. ̫.꜀՞𐦯 expectations + some rules!
I take forever to upload… sorry.
Mdni!!, I legit write smut!
Please give me any suggestions, or advice. As long as it’s not delivered in a rude way!!
I do not have DMs opened (and will keep it that way), but leave suggestions in the little suggestion box :)
a/n: HEAR ME OUT. i know sub!jisung is basically my watermark at this point, but this version of him was BEGGING to be written. i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a while now. also, ofc i had to mention richard and bbama at least in one of my fics. this was originally almost 5k words, so yeah… i got a little carried away lmao. anyway! all my dom!jisung lovers, this one’s for you. enjoy!!! <3
the bell above the studio door gave a low chime when you pushed it open, the sharp smell of ink and the metallic bite of the autoclave drifting from the back.
the front desk was empty, a single lamp cast long, jagged shadows across the black leather couch and the flash sheets pinned to the walls.
your eyes roamed the room nervously until you heard a door at the end of the hall creaked open. jisung stepped out, wiping his hands on an ink-stained rag.
he wore a black tee that clung to his frame, leaving nothing to the imagination, his bare arms making you lick your lower lip. he stopped inches from you, a slow, flirtatious smirk curving at the corner of his mouth.
“lock the door behind you,” he said, voice low and casual. he jerked his head toward the entrance. “we’re closed for the night. special clients only.”
he didn’t wait for a reaction from you. with a playful wink, he turned toward his private office. you followed, heart hammering against your ribs, every single word of support and encouragement your friends gave you flying out the window
you eased the office door shut. you were nervous as fuck, the silence in the room feeling heavy and electric. you swept your gaze to his desk, which was a chaotic graveyard of sketches and a pack of cigarettes with only one left.
“sit down,” he commanded, patting the edge of the desk. he slumped into the leather chair, rolling it forward until his knees bracketed yours. “show me what we’re working with.”
you raise a brow, bracing yourself as you hopped up. the proximity was suffocating. with a shaky breath, your fingers found the hem of your top. you hiked it up, your gaze fixed on the wall to avoid his.
the cool air hit your left side, a shiver traveling up your spine made you gasp. he wasn’t wearing gloves, just his bare, calloused skin tracing under the curve of your breast. his thumb pressed in, testing the give of muscle and bone with a slow, agonizing deliberation.
“side torso,” he murmured, eyes tracking the line of your hip. “good choice. hurts like a bitch, but it’ll sit pretty.”
his palm remained flat against your skin, grounding you. you bit your lower lip to stifle a hum as his warm breath ghosted against your collarbone. you tried to steady your breathing, fighting the traitorous
what was wrong with you? he was just doing his damn job. your hand gripped the edge of the wooden desk, knuckles whitening as you tried to rein yourself in.
he tilted his head, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of your ribs as if he were already carving the design into your flesh.
“you’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” he asked in a quiet murmur.
you nodded, tongue-tied. you weren’t brave enough to look him in the eye when his gaze felt like a physical touch.
“how long?” his voice was professional, shop-counter casual. that tone carrying a dangerous edge.
you cleared your throat. “a few months. maybe more.”
“need you to be specific, sweetie,” his thumb shifted, mapping the curve under your bra band without slipping beneath it. “i don’t like talking vaguely when i’m about to put something permanent on you.”
“since… before the first consultation,” you admitted, voice barely a whisper. “i just… made up my mind.”
a low, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. “i like that,” he finally glanced up, a spark of dark curiosity in his eyes. “what took you so long?”
“wanted to be sure about the placement,” you forced a smile, careful not to jostle his hand.
“mmh,” he clearly didn’t buy it. “placement is half the decision. the other half is whether you can sit still while i’m all over you,” his fingers splayed, warm and steady. “can you?”
your lips parted, searching his face for a hidden meaning. he flashed a smug, knowing grin. like he knew how much everything he did affected you on the inside.
“i… i think so,” you stammered, cursing yourself.
“you think so,” he repeated, tasting the words. “not good enough. i need a ‘yes’, or you can head home and come back when you’re ready to handle it.”
the words hit you like a physical shove, your body locking up. when he made to pull his hand away, your fingers shot out to grab his wrist, pinning his palm back against your side. you met his gaze, silent and pleading.
“yes,” you breathed. “i can handle it.”
“fine. then, arms up,” he demmanded. “keep the shirt there and don’t you dare let it drop.”
you obeyed, fabric bunched under your fists. you were painfully exposed, the draft from the vent tickling your skin. jisung leaned in, close enough that you could smell the sharp tang of his studio and the lingering scent of smoke.
he reached for a pen, uncapping it with his teeth. your stomach did a slow-motion vault at the sight of his lips around the plastic, his tongue flicking out.
“i’m going to mark the zone,” he said against the pen, his eyes locking onto yours. “tell me if it feels off.”
the tip of the pen grazed your skin. it was a light, agonizingly slow curve, and you felt every millimeter. his left hand stayed anchored to your waist, a silent reminder that you weren’t going anywhere.
“breathe,” he whispered.
he drew a final, soft ‘x’ at the center of the placement. he pulled back, his breath hitching when he saw your half-lidded eyes and the way you were biting your lip.
“so…” he cleared his throat. “this is the densest part of the work. every time you move, it’ll pull. sure you want it here?”
“it’s fine,” you said, forcing your voice to be steady. “wanna see it when i look down.”
he went still, swallowing hard before finishing the oval outline. you felt him hovering on the edge of disbelief, so you moved, trying to bridge the gap.
“it’s… practical,” you added, fishing for his approval. “nothing more.”
“sure it is,” he tossed the pen aside but kept his hand pressed to your skin. “but, as far as i’m concerned, ‘practical girls’ don’t blush when i mark them.”
heat flooded your throat. “i’m not-”
“you are,” he said, flat and observant. “it’s fine. my job is to put ink on you, not judge what turns you on.”
your face was a fire hazard. you tried to pull the shirt down, but his fingers clamped gently over the fabric, holding you in place.
“not yet, pretty girl. i’m not done looking.”
the words clung to your mind longer than you wanted. you were drowning in his double meanings, too panicked to do anything but play the fool.
you surely considered going home, calling seungmin and screaming how much you hated him your tattoo artists.
he leaned in, his knee coming to rest just outside yours. “now, again, why ribs?”
“i already told you-”
“you told me you want to see it. that’s bullshit,” his fingers returned, pressing into the ‘x’. “why here, where it’ll hurt? where every partner you ever have is going to put their mouth on and know i was first?”
this was too much. your breath snagged, eyes squeezing shut. your panties were damp, you were aching, and completely undone by the heat of his touch.
“jisung,” you warned, your voice barely audible.
“you can walk out. door’s unlocked,” he countered, nodding toward the exit. “or you can keep answering me like an adult who knows exactly what she walked into.”
you stayed on the desk, your knuckles whitened in the fabric of your shirt.
he stood, giving you time to track the shift in his weight. he braced a hand on the desk, looming over your hip, claiming the space as if he’d already built a home there.
“y’know what? i’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
the confession didn’t land all at once. he drew the moment out, making you wait until you were on the verge of begging.
maybe this was the moment where you redirected the conversation, said goodbye and walked out that door, looking for another tattoo artist that didn’t make you sigh like a girl with a crush.
“every appointment,” he began, “i’d watch from the counter. i’d watch your eyes flicker toward me,” his voice dropped, “and, to be completely honest, I was always watching back.”
the words settled in the room, heavy and absolute. his hand didn’t move. if anything, he pressed firmer, anchoring you to him.
“i told myself it was professional interest. then you started booking with me specifically, and i stopped lying to myself,” his thumb mapped the lower curve of his own mark, “i’ve thought about putting my hands on your lower back to check my own work myself.”
he waited, giving you that final, silent out. your heart hammered against your ribs with a frantic, erratic rhythm that you were certain he could feel through his palm.
“tell me you don’t want this, and i go back to a standard consultation,” he said, voice low, absolute decree. “tell me anything else… and i stop being your artist for the next hour.”
the air in the room felt thin. you could hear the ragged drag of your own breath and feel the bite of the desk’s edge against your thighs. your shirt was still bunched in your fists, his hand pressed over your ribs like a claim he hadn’t yet voiced aloud.
“i… i don’t want you to stop,” you murmured, the words barely ghosting past your lips.
something shifted in his expression. his face lit up with a raw, predatory hunger. his eyebrows arched, and his tongue swept across his lower lip in a slow, anticipating drag.
a sudden, violent jolt of arousal spiked between your thighs, the sensation becoming almost unbearable. a broken gasp escaped you when you heard the hungry, relieved sigh he let out in response.
he stepped into the narrow space between your knees, moving with patience. he gave your body time to adjust to his heat, to the solid, grounding weight of his hips brushing while the other rose to cradle your neck.
his thumb pressed firmly against the hinge of your jaw, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet his eyes.
he didn’t kiss you. instead, his hand slid into your hair at the nape of your neck, his fingers tightening until the pull against your scalp sent a shiver racing down your spine. he tilted your head back by degrees until your throat was bared and your eyes had nowhere to go but him.
with a firm grip, he turned you until your hip pressed against the edge of the desk. he leaned in, his palm finding the space between your shoulder blades to anchor you firmly against the wood. his free hand settled at the waistband of your jeans, lingering there, waiting.
“last chance. you sure about this, pretty girl?” he breathed against your shoulder.
“yes…” you whined, hissing at the sheer friction of his body against yours.
only then did he work the button and zipper. he dragged your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion, the fabric catching at your thighs and knees until it pooled, tangling around your legs and binding you just enough that you couldn’t open wide without his help.
the rush of cool air hitting your core made you sob. jisung groaned, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips.
“fuck, look at you,” he rasped. he smoothed his palms up the backs of your thighs, spreading you wide, his gaze hungry. the pause stretched until your hips twitched helplessly. “already dripping, and i haven’t even touched you yet.”
you gasped, your face burning against the desk as the bluntness of his words settled in your cunt. jisung let out a low, dark laugh that vibrated through the hand still pressed against your spine.
“keep making those sounds, baby,” he whispered. “i want every single one of them.”
without warning, a single fingertip traced the seam from from your clit to your entrance, gathering the slick of your folds but not entering, teasing.
when he finally circled your clit, the movement almost cruel in its agonizingly slow pace. he held you just on the edge of your pleasure, watching you unravel.
“j-jisung…” you pleaded, your eyes dragging over him.
“oh, you want more?” he pressed two fingers into your entrance, thick and unhurried. “beg then.”
your eyes squeezed shut, swallowing hard, the command vibrating in your skull.
“p-please…” the word broke, shattering in the quiet office.
a smug, satisfied smile bloomed on his face. he pushed in slowly, watching your expression, gauging the stretch until you were panting, whispering incoherencies against the wood.
he drove his fingers, knuckle by knuckle, until his palm pressed flush against your trembling body.
“that’s it,” he murmured. “taking me so well already.”
he curled his fingers inside, searching until he found that specific, wicked spot. he settled into a steady, merciless rhythm. you could hear his own breath hitching, uneven and ragged.
“i’ve thought about this”, he confesses, his voice raw. “how wet you’d get if i just talked to you like this.”
you moaned, a sound torn from your throat, but he didn’t ease up. he added a twist on the outstroke and a sharp press on the in, building a wet, rhythmic slapping sound that filled the room.
“greedy girl,” he murmured, his admiration evident. “you’ve been wanting this for weeks,” he sighed, a heavy, audible sound. “bet you went home after our appointments and put your hand between your legs, thinking about my mouth.”
you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but he slid a third finger inside without mercy. the burn sweetened into an overwhelming fullness. your hips pushed back against him unconsciously. he pinned you firmer, his hand a dead weight against your back.
“stay,” he commanded. “i set the pace and you just take it.”
and you did. you took everything he gave you. your heartbeat slammed against the desk, sweat prickling your hairline. every thrust dragged a high-pitched, broken sound from you, raw and completely stripped of pretense.
“j-jisung, stop- m’gonna… fuck, please- so close…”
you squirmed, your entire body vibrating as the orgasm gathered in your lower belly. your mouth fell open, your back arching as you pushed into his hand.
the tightness in your abdomen snapped and your walls fluttered, spasming hard around his fingers. you slumped against the desk, forehead dropping against the cold wood, completely undone.
jisung groaned, the sight of your release clearly hitting him like a physical blow. a rush of heat coated his hand, and he didn’t stop, continuing with shorter, sharper strokes, milking every pulse until you were raw and oversensitive, still rocking back for more.
“fuck, yes…” he breathed, his voice wrecked with dark amused. “good girl. now, wanna feel you doing it in my mouth.”
before you could process the request, he dropped to his knees behind you. you jolted, surprised, but his hands immediately spread you wider, his thumbs holding you open to his scrutiny.
“w-wait-” you moaned, chest heaving. “i’m sensitive, don’t-”
but he was already there. he dragged his tongue, broad and filthy, from the mess on your thighs up to your clit. you ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip until it bled.
his pace was relentless. he licked and slurped, moaning into your skin like a man starving. your hand slapped the desk, then flew to your mouth to stifle the noise, but it was futile.
he sucked your clit between his lips, teasing with a scrape of his teeth that made your entire body jump. he circled your nub, teasing before suctioning down hard. you throbbed as he licked your folds, giving you barely a second of reprieve before attacking the sensitive spot again.
when you tried to reflexively close your legs, he bit the inside of your thigh hard enough to mark you and held the bite until you whimpered, then soothed the sting with a slow, languid swipe of his tongue.
“stay open,” he panted against your skin. “didn’t tell you to move, did i?”
you shook your head, unable to stop the sobbing sounds, your body hovering on the edge of collapse. when he pushed two fingers back inside while his mouth worked you into a frenzy, you were certain you had lost you mind.
the dual sensation was a short-circuit. he found a rhythm that was relentless, curling, sucking, and thrusting until the sound of your own fluids filled the office.
“oh, fuck-” you gasped, your mouth trembling. “jisung, i can’t- s’too much-”
“you will,” he mumbled against you. “give it to me. wanna taste every drop.”
your second orgasm hit differently, deeper, a pressure in your lower abdomen that peaked with terrifying speed. you clenched your teeth as it crashed over you, harder than the first.
your vision whited out, another gush spilling over his tongue and chin. you whimpered loudly into the wood, your body trembling so violently the desk squeaked under you.
he groaned, obscenely satisfied, drinking his fill of your release. he didn’t stop his fingers, dragging out the climax until your legs turned to jelly and he had to hold your hips up with both hands, anchoring you as you shattered for the second time.
he withdrew his hand, the sudden absence of pressure leaving you feeling strangely hollow. he stepped back just enough to unzip his jeans, the rasp of the teeth echoing in the small room.
he moved behind you, pressing his chest flush against your spine, his hand coming to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly soothing despite the chaos he’d just wrought.
“what… jisung…” your gasps were hoarse.
he offered a slow, rouge smile. “think you can handle it?”
he didn’t wait for a verbal answer. the blunt head of his cock dragged against your soaked folds, a teasing friction, before he settled against your entrance, waiting.
you were arching back into him before he even applied pressure, desperate for the fullness you were clearly primed to receive.
“yes” you panted, the word barely recognizable.
“good girl,” he left a peek against the nape of your neck.
then, he pressed in. he didn’t slam inside, he fed you his length in slow, deliberate inches, letting you feel every ounce of the stretch, the agonizing heat of him as your body bloomed open to accommodate him.
when he bottomed out, he held perfectly still, buried to the hilt, his breath ragged against your skin. one hand fisted in your hair, the other spanning your ribs over the pen marks he’d drawn earlier.
“shit- you’re tight,” he rasped, his voice raw with honesty. “gonna fuck you until you can’t stand straight.”
a single, shaky nod was all the permission he needed. he snapped into a brutal, rhythmic pace that made the desk creak under the strain. he pulled your head back by your hair, forcing your throat open, your spine arching.
his free hand left your ribs to shove under your bra, pinching and rolling your nipple in time with his thrusts until you let out a broken sound.
“jisung, fuck-” you hissed, eyes rolling back. “so good… please, don’t stop…”
his rhythm faltered for a second at the raw sound of your voice. you were so wet, milking him with every clench, every frantic flutter of your muscles. he pushed harder, bottoming out against your cervix, the pleasure so sharp it made your mind fray at the edges.
“so fucking wet,” he panted, his own moans slipping through his teeth. “gonna cum inside you, baby. wanna see you take it all.”
he was fucking you senseless now. the thrusts were sloppy, messy, and relentless. he watched, fixated, as your ass bounced against his thighs with each violent collision. your cries were muffled against your own hand, but they were loud enough to drive him over the edge.
“gonna fill you up, baby. gonna be dripping with me after this… fuck-”
his control snapped- he buried himself to the hilt, grounding his hips against you as he sought his own release. your walls fluttered around him, desperate and greedy, milking him dry.
he let out a low, guttural roar, his cock pulsing deep inside you, hot spurs of cum flooding into you. he didn’t pull away, he stayed buried, thrusting in weak, rhythmic pulses until the very last drop was spent.
jisung remained pressed tight against you, head dropped to your shoulder, his breathing heavy and uneven. one hand stroked your side, his touch finally turning tender, while his cum leaked out, warm and thick, too much for you to hold inside.
“oh, shit… so good,” he breathed against your shoulder, pressing soft kisses into your skin. “you are perfect. made for me.”
eventually, he eased out, the withdrawal leaving a strange, quiet void in the room. you shivered, the mess between your legs feeling heavy, filthy.
he turned you around with careful, almost reverent hands, lifting you to sit on the edge of the desk. even as his body still hummed with the aftershocks of his release, his focus was entirely on you.
he brushed his thumb over you swollen lower lip, his gaze softening as he traced the flush on your cheeks. his eyes dropped to your chest, your shirt still rucked up, and his hands moved to adjust it, his fingers lingering in soft caresses.
you looked down, noticing the faint, dark marks he’d left on your thighs. you blinked, meeting his gaze one last time.
“you good?” he mumbled, stealing another soft peck from your lips. “if you want… you can come home with me. y’know… i have a little dog and a lizard that are dying to meet you.”
it was almost like a bad joke. the way he suddenly avoided your eyes, looking shy about the invitation. a slow, genuine smile spread across your face. it was sweet, the way his fingers were tracing soft, aimless circles over your knuckles.
“lead the way, then,” you said, your voice warm. “but don’t think i’m walking there on my own feet. you are carrying me!”
he chuckled, a rich, genuine sound, and patted your head before turning to gather your scattered clothes from the floor, tossing out fake apologies that lacked even a shred of regret for what he’d just done.
summ: your prize for winning a beer pong game was getting shared by two frat boys upstairs. consider it one of the house privileges.
⋆ pairing: frat boy!chan x f!reader x frat boy!jisung
⋆ genre: smut (minors dni)
⋆ tags/cw: college au, threesome, rough sex, dom!chansung, pet names (baby, good/pretty girl), alcohol mention, kissing, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, oral fixation, fingering, tit play, nipple play, hair pulling, ass slaps, oral (m!receiving), cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex, semi-public sex
⋆ words: 2.8k
a/n: UGH. here i am with the most mouth-watering, toe-curling fic i’ve posted so far. idk what possessed me while writing this request, but i’m honestly grateful it did lol. yes, the jisung favoritism is still painfully obvious (my bad), but chan in this one??? insane. don’t know why i haven’t written him before. hope you enjoy those two men sharing you!!! >_<
the bass from downstairs rattled the cheap picture frames hanging on the hallway walls. the smell of cigarettes and cheap liquor was strong, making your head feel lighter. laughter echoed from every corner of the house.
but none of it held your attention for long because your eyes were fixed on han jisung.
he stood across the beer pong table with that stupid, cocky smile you wanted to wipe off his face, lazily rolling the ping pong ball between his fingers while the crowd around you shouted over one another.
the grin on his face only widened before he tossed you the ball with an easy flick of his wrist, leaning back against the wall behind him, completely relaxed.
“last cup, baby,” he called, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “you miss, you drink. make me proud and don’t miss your shot, jagi.”
his words were dripping with teasing flirtation, making you roll your eyes. even if the heat in your lower abdomen just kept building every time your eyes locked in his.
“you’re so annoying, hannie,” you teased, giggling at his offended expression.
you glanced down at the ball, turning it between your fingers while focusing on the last red cup sitting alone at the opposite end of the table.
and maybe it was the alcohol buzzing pleasantly through your system or the way jisung kept looking at you with that smug expression. either way, your thoughts felt hazy.
before taking the shot, your gaze drifted across the room, landing immediately on christopher.
he was sprawled across one of the couches with a drink in his hand, surrounded by half the fraternity. one arm rested along the back of the couch, his legs spread comfortably, messy blond hair falling into his eyes.
he’d been watching the entire game, his eyes never leaving you. he tilted his head slightly, that lazy smile on his face making your heart skip a beat.
“watch this,” you mouthed, knowing he would read your lips.
without hesitating, your wrist snapped forward. the ball arced cleanly across the table before dropping straight into the center cup, beer splashing over the rim.
the crowd roared behind you. one of your friends threw an arm around your shoulders before practically lifting you off the floor, laughing like you’d just won a championship instead of a stupid drinking game.
before you could even catch your breath, jisung’s hand was wrapped gently around your wrist, pulling you out of the whole crowd.
“c’mon, let’s get out of here,” he murmured, leaning close enough for only you to hear. “there’s less people upstairs.”
you laughed, breathless. you knew damn well neither of you had any intention of talking. he intertwined his fingers with yours and started leading you toward the staircase before anyone could stop you.
and right before disappearing into the hallway, you looked back, searching for christopher. as always, he was already looking at you with one eyebrow raised.
you tipped your head toward the second floor, blinking with a flirtatious smirk on your face. the corner of his mouth lifted in that slow, knowing way that always made your knees feel loose.
he barely nodded, letting you know that the message was received.
the music faded with every step upstairs. the hallway felt strangely quiet compared to the chaos below, the music little more than a muffled thump beneath your feet.
some doors were slightly open while others were locked, giving you a vague idea of what could be happening there. neither of you paid them much attention.
with little grace, jisung pushed open the first empty room he found and slipped you inside after him. you kicked the door shut behind you, the loud slam echoing through the hallway.
the second the door shut you were on him.
your mouths crashed, wet and urgent. jisung groaned into the kiss like he’d been starving for it all night, teeth catching your lower lip, sucking hard enough to sting, the sound vibrating against your tongue.
everything felt desperate, needy. his hands shoved under your top without ceremony, palms burning against your skin, sliding up your ribs until his thumbs pressed into the soft underside of your breasts.
“slow down, ji,” you mumbled against his mouth, a shaky smirk on your lips. your voice was already fading away, panting for air.
but he didn’t waste time.
jisung bent, palms sliding under your tights and lifting you like you weighed nothing. a small whimper slipped from your lips at the sudden movement, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back.
the thick, clothed line of his cock pressed hard against your cunt through his jeans, the pressure relentless. you began to feel impatient, your hands roaming along his back, scratching loosely.
your body hit the wall, the impact forcing a whimper from your throat. jisung rolled his hips, slow and deliberate, grinding the rigid length against you, gasping and groaning obscenities. the friction dragging low moans and whines out of you, your thighs trembling around him.
“fuck, you’re driving me crazy. been staring at you all night,” he muttered, biting the side of your neck hard enough to make you whine. “let’s do something about it, yeah?”
with a grin on his face, he carried you to the bed and dropped you onto the mattress. the springs squeaked under your weight, bouncing. you pushed up onto your elbows just in time to see him crawling over you, eyes dilated.
he yanked his shirt off and tossed it aside, careless. his hands were quickly at your top, dragging it up and off, gaze dropping to watch the way your tits moved with the motion.
he reached for your bra next, fingers hooking the straps and pulling them down your arms in one slow drag. with a smooth motion he unhooked the clasp, throwing your bra far, far away.
both of you were breathing hard. you reached for the back of his neck and dragged him down into another kiss, messy and deep. jisung groaned against your mouth, the sound raw.
“fuck this,” he panted. “come here, baby.”
his mouth was on your tits before you could catch your breath. your face scrunched when he sucked one of your nipples, his tongue flicking fast and erratic, teeth scraping just enough to make your back arch.
“you sound so pretty,” he said, voice muffled against your breast. “wanna hear more of it.”
his free hand squeezed the other breast, thumb rolling over the stiff peak while his hips ground down on your crotch, seeking more friction. you could easily feel how hard he was, the thick ridge of him dragging against your cunt through too many annoying layers.
“ji- shit… please, s-slow down,” you breathed, finger twisting into his hair. your voice sounded broken, eyes blurred.
he left your breast with a short pop, leaving a deep, fast kiss on your lips before switching sides, sucking even harder. the wet sounds his mouth filled the small room.
you moaned loudly, biting your lower lip when you felt his free hand slide down your stomach, popping the button on your shorts and shoving inside. he dragged two fingers above your soaked panties, the warmth sending a sick thrill through him.
“mmmh- stop teasing,” you begged, your wet eyes looking at his.
“y’know your wish is my command, baby.”
he shoved his hand inside your panties right away, finding you already slick when he dragged his fingers through your folds. the amusement and arousal painted across his face.
it was too much, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
he bit his lip before pushing two fingers in without warning. you moaned and whimpered loudly, hips jerking up to meet his fast paced thrusts.
jisung cupped one of your tits in his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. his cock throbbing inside his pants, screaming for attention.
“already this wet? we’ve barely started,” he teased, a pout on his lips. he pumped his fingers faster, curling them on every pull. “chris’s gonna lose his fucking mind when he feels this.”
and like you had summoned him, the door clicked open.
unbothered, jisung looked over his shoulder. that wide heart-shaped smile growing on his face when he found christopher closing the door behind him with deliberate calm, leaning back against it. your cunt clenched around jisung’s fingers, expectantly.
christopher’s eyes traveled over the scene: your bare chest, jisung’s fingers still buried inside you, the small tears threatening to roll down your cheeks any minute now. he smirked slowly, hungry.
“started without me,” he noticed, tilting his head. his eyes fixed on you.
you lifted your head, voice hoarse. “thought you’d never get here...”
his smile sharpened at your words. he pushed off the door and crossed the room quickly. his hand found jisung’s shoulder, squeezing once, firm, before sliding down to cup your face, squeezing your cheeks.
“missed you too, baby,” he left a peck on your swollen lips.
jisung pulled his fingers free with a wet sound, sitting back on his heels with his chest heaving. a satisfied grin on his shiny, wet lips. both of you looked at christopher when he stripped his own shirt off, revealing his toned chest.
he approached the bed with a couple strides, immediately reaching for your shorts, yanking them down your legs along with your panties in one smooth, fast motion.
jisung drooled at the view of your naked body, his hand caressing his crotch, feeling the sick urgency of being buried inside you.
“want you on your knees. now,” his tone left no room for argument.
you slid off the bed eagerly, obedient. christopher sat on the edge of the mattress, legs spread. he tugged you between his open legs, unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock with ease.
it was already hard, thick, and flushed, the head glistening. you felt your mouth watering at the obscene sight. he wrapped a hand around the base, jerking it lazily with a smile on his face, his eyes never leaving yours.
his hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, tapping the tip of his cock against your lower lip teasingly. your cheeks flushed violently at the shameless action.
“open your mouth, pretty girl,” he demanded, his fingers tangling in your hair. “want you to take it all.”
and you did without hesitation, desperate for the feeling of him fucking your mouth until your brain melts.
your eyes sparkled with excitement when his cock slid slowly inside, letting you feel every inch until the head nudged the back of your throat. the full feeling lit you on fire, the heat on your lower abdomen bursting.
“there you go,” he cooed, his thumb stroking your cheek. “just like that, good job.”
you watched him nod to jisung, who was almost in a trance watching the scene developing in front of him.
you could hear him unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans behind you, his warm hands brushing along your back until his fingers dug down on your hips, possessive.
a sharp inhale left you when he dragged you backwards until your ass was pressed against his dick. his hands caressed your thighs, pushing them apart gently, barely holding himself together when he saw your entrance willing for him and only him.
“gonna fuck you while you suck him,” jisung purred, voice bright and filthy. “ready for that, pretty girl?”
a small nod was all he needed. you sobbed aggressively when jisung’s blunt head nudged your soaked, slippery hole. losing your mind every time his free hand squeezed your ass, licking his lower lip.
jisung sank deeper, thrusting in hard until he felt the flushed head of his cock poking your cervix harshly. the stretch punched a moan out of you that vibrated around christopher’s length, making him hiss with pleasure.
“god… look at you. bet you’re dying for me to come in your mouth,” christopher hummed, smiling smugly. his grip on your hair tighter.
you nodded too quickly, too desperately. hollowing your cheeks, you shoved forward onto his cock, not stopping until your nose brushed the trimmed hair at his base. he petted your hair delicately, gripping your hair hard to guide your head in short, deep, controlled thrusts that matched jisung’s pace.
his hips stuttered, your gagging noises arousing him even more. the warm, slick feeling of your mouth sucking his length so eagerly dragging groans and whines out of him. he wouldn’t last any longer if you kept doing it this good.
“y-yeah, eyes on me, pretty girl,” he panted, biting his lower lip, frowning. “wanna see your cute face when i come in your mouth.”
your eyes were pinned on his aroused expression, fighting the urge to roll them back with every stimulus both of them gave you.
some tears started to fall down your cheeks when his thrusts began quicker, chasing his own orgasm now.
his hand gripped on the bedsheets under him, shutting his eyes tight when he started spilling into your mouth. hot pulses hit the back of your throat, making you choke with the big load that was sliding down it.
“shit- wanna see you swallow it,” he whined, releasing the grip on your hair slowly and pulling out his dick with a soft pop.
you did it, swallowing all of it with effort until there was nothing left. you opened your mouth shakily, peeking your tongue out for him. and christopher could just come right there just from that obscene image of you.
and even when you started panting for air, jisung didn’t let you catch a break at all.
the slow thrusts he maintained for a while started to grow a brutal pace, hips slapping against your ass, making it recoil. his smirk growing at the wet sound of your cunt taking him loud and obscene.
“mmh- so tight. made for my dick,” he panted, slapping your ass twice, making you cry loudly. “you must like being used like this, huh?” his voice was lewd, nasty. “our little frat house toy.”
his words hit somewhere deep and hot inside you, making your cunt clench around his cock even tighter. he reached around to rub your clit in tight circles, his fingers were relentless, slick with your arousal. the sensation of his cock pounding into you quickly unraveling you.
christopher caressed your face, shoving his thumb inside your parted mouth. your eyes darted at him, half-lidded.
“look at you, dripping down his cock already,” he mocked, drinking in every inch of your face.
“oh shit- you’re milking me so fucking hard,” jisung huffed, giggling breathless at your broken, incoherent moans. “be good and come for me, baby.”
your eyes rolled back when his pace became even wilder, messier. it was almost animalistic, making you whimper with each deep, erratic thrust.
“it’s- s’too much, jisung…” you cried, your face scrunched, drooling over christopher’s fingers. “fuck, feel so full… mmh- so, so c-close...”
his free hand slid up your spine and fisted in your hair, pulling your head back further until your throat was exposed. he leaned in, leaving some open-mouthed kisses and sucking your skin before his teeth scraped the shell of your ear.
your legs went numb when your orgasm hit sharp and sudden, thighs shaking, a broken sound tearing out of your abused, sore throat. your whole body was shaking, your hands closed into fists while your head dropped down, shut your wet eyes close.
and jisung fucked you through it, his pace never faltering, until your cunt stopped fluttering around him. his hands brushing your back, soothing you until you came back from your high.
“oh shit-” his legs jerked, hips chasing you. “gonna cum inside you, fuck- you’re milking me…” he babbled, whispering low on your ear.
his whole body was shaking, overstimulated, his only thought being the feeling of your pussy gripping him desperately, completely soaked. his hands went to your tits, squeezing them and using them as support.
his cock twitched helplessly inside you, pulsing as he spilled deep inside you. his fingers dug into your breasts hard enough to leave red marks on them. it was messy, you could feel it leaking down your thighs already.
“you did a good job,” christopher praised, his voice warm, soothing. “shower’s down the hall. we’ll clean you up.”
jisung pressed a kiss on your cheek, way softer now, while pulling out of you gently. a wicked smile across his face when he saw the mess he created between your legs. he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, sighing loudly.
“then… we can go home and do whatever you want,” he blinked, sticking his tongue out a little, teasing.
you laughed, hoarse, and let them pull you upright between them after getting dressed up again. christopher’s arm stayed around your waist while jisung’s fingers laced through yours.
jisung claims he just wants to ‘rub against you’ but you both knew that was a lie ! ( tw: dubcon )
jisung had just dicked you down so good not even an hour ago.
he’d left you messy and trembling on the bed, your body sprawled out across the rumpled sheets while your dripping cunt clenched weakly around nothing, a thick mix of his cum and your slick smeared all over your thighs and leaking slow from your still-puffy hole. you could barely think, let alone move— your muscles felt like jelly, thighs quivering sharply everytime you tried to shift positions, oversensitive and sore in the best way possible.
your clit still pulsed faintly, swollen from how hard he’d made you cum earlier, overstimulation turning to a dull ache in your core. jisung had been just as wrecked, flopping off to your side with a breathless laugh that made little butterflies stir in your tummy even now.
so you thought that was it. done for the night.
and yet, there he was again, hovering over you now with flushed cheeks and disheveled hair, his cock already rock-hard and drooling pre onto your thigh as he gazed down at you with those big, round, stupidly desperate eyes.
you stared at him blankly, your mind struggling to wrap itself around the audacity.
“baby, please…” jisung whined softly, his voice cracking on the words like he was holding back actual tears. “just wanna feel you again. jus’ rub it on your pussy, i swear. won’t put it in. promise.”
oh, you didn’t believe that for a second.
jisung was lying to himself even more than he was lying to you— how could he help it when his hips were already rocking these tiny, pleading little thrusts, smearing sticky precum over your skin? his face was so red, his bottom lip caught between his teeth while his eyes watched you like you were his salvation, his endgame, his every waking thought.
and god, you knew you shouldn’t. you were already so full of him, your battered pussy still stretched and sore from how rough he’d been earlier. you could feel him in your blood, your muscles screaming for a break, even as your clit throbbed faintly at the way his cockhead twitched and leaked against your thigh.
but how the hell were you supposed to say no when he begged like that?
“…only rubbing,” you whispered, voice weak but firm. “be good, yeah?”
jisung nodded so frantically it was almost funny, his hands shaking as they cupped your thighs, nudging them apart slowly like he thought you might change your mind.
"i'll be good," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss your jaw, then your cheek, then your mouth with a softness that almost made you melt.
your chest fluttered as his lips trailed kisses down the curve of your throat, every little press a silent plea.
“thank you, baby,” he whispered against your skin, his voice husky but so gentle it made your resolve crack even more.
his trembling hands coaxed your legs wider until your puffy folds stuck to his cock, the lewd wetness between your thighs cold from earlier but quickly heating up again when the fat head of his cock dragged up your slit in a slow, deliberate motion.
“fuck, still so wet from earlier… so warm,” jisung breathed, his voice dropping another octave as he reached the end of your slit, his head catching briefly on your clit and making you jump.
his hips twitched forward instinctively, and both of you gasped softly at the sensation— the thick heat of his length pressing against your folds, already sticky and messy from the cum dripping out of you.
“s-shit, baby,” he whined, dragging his cock down, and then up again in one slow glide that sent sparks darting down your spine. “hear that? so fucking wet. you’re still leaking all over me.”
he wasn’t lying; every drag of his cock along your folds sounded downright filthy, wet squelches echoing in the room with every glide against your entrance, every bump against your swollen clit. his earlier load mixed with pre and slick, coating everything in messy strings that stuck to him when he pulled back.
the sloppiness of it made your face burn— not with embarrassment (there was none left to feel, really, not after jisung had learned every inch of you earlier that night)— but with how turned on it made you despite your soreness. you whimpered softly everytime the fat head of his cock teased your entrance without fully pushing inside, and jisung groaned when your thighs trembled helplessly at the slow, steady drag.
“can’t believe you’re still this messy,” he murmured, his voice cracking with need. “fuck, your pussy’s so cute...so creamy and sticky from me…”
you weren’t even officially fucking, and you were already losing your damn mind. everything felt so sensitive. the slick friction, the warmth of his cock pulsing against your folds. every drag sent shivers through your core, leaving you wet and wanting despite the ache.
and yet, jisung somehow pulled himself together, kept it slow in the most agonizing way, his thick length gliding down your slit before catching at your entrance and making you gasp— a sound jisung clearly relished because his head tipped back, lips parting on a moan like he could barely handle it himself.
“fuck, your pussy’s sucking me in—“ he panted, his grip tightening on your thighs as they kept trembling beneath him, the warmth of his calloused hands practically scorching your skin. “you’re gripping so hard, and i’m not even- ah—”
his hips twitched harder, enough to push the tip just slightly against your entrance where it notched thick and heavy inside.
“jisung- wait—!” you gasped, your hands flying to his chest in something that wasn’t quite a push. you could already feel the faint stretch from his tip pressing against your tight, puffy hole, overwhelmed but still loving it, your walls fluttering regardless of the ache.
“s-sorry, ‘m sorry,” jisung choked out immediately, but he didn’t move, every muscle in his body visibly straining. he whined softly, somehow just as wrecked from all of this as you, his flushed face burying into your shoulder as he breathed so raggedly you felt it in every shallow exhale.
“just the tip,” he babbled, his hips notching forward slightly despite his words. “just wanna feel you here. just this, baby, i promise…”
you wanted to believe him, but jisung was already sinking in. one thick inch, slow and devastating, and the breath punched out of your lungs.
“you’re so soft, baby… so fucking tight around me,” he moaned against your shoulder, his hips jerking slightly even as he tried to stay still.
“j-jisung, wait—” you whimpered again, nails gripping weakly at his arms as tears pricked your eyes, still breathless from the stretch.
he pressed frantic kisses to your jaw in response, his voice trembling as he muttered a bunch of “sorry’s” and “i love you’s” that contradicted every stutter of his hips.
he wasn’t pulling back. he wasn’t stopping.
instead, he buried himself slowly but deeply into your soaked, sore heat, inch by inch, until you felt the thickness of him stretching you fully again, his shaft slick and pulsing against your walls.
he wasn’t supposed to go this far, but you couldn’t care anymore—couldn’t think past the full sensation of jisung fucking you open, his length coated in messy slick from how wet you still were.
“fuck- look at you,” jisung groaned when he finally bottomed out, cock twitching where it pressed deep inside, head practically kissing your cervix. “you’re perfect, baby. so good for me- taking me so well, fuck.”
you cried out faintly when his hips rolled forward again in a shallow thrust, the motion sending a fresh squelch of his earlier release spilling out around him, coating the sheets beneath you in sticky waves.
your thighs pressed tight as everything inside you broke apart all over again, trembling against him as the bed creaked with every movement. his cock dragged thick and heavy along your walls, every thrust deep and firm, his breath a mixture of broken grunts and moans as he muttered praise and curses into your ear.
"so tight… so good…” he was babbling now, his hips rolling forward frantically as your cries melted into sobs of overstimulation, both of you oblivious to anything but the brutal, sloppy sounds of him fucking into you.
“j-jisung- i can’t—!” your words broke into a wail when his thrusts stuttered harder, deeper, everything messy and overwhelming.
“you can, baby,” jisung rasped, the veins in his hands twitching as he grabbed your thighs to hold you steady. “you’re my good girl- fuck, i know you can take it. your pussy always takes me so well…”
he angled your hips higher, pushing even deeper when you clenched hard on his cock again, making his words dissolve into another broken groan as the wet slap of his thrusts filled the room.
you threw your head back with a loud cry when he hit that spot, the one that sent sparks spiraling inside you and made you gushing wet all over again.
his hips stuttered then, a low “fuckkk, ’m so close,” spilling from his lips as his cock throbbed painfully inside you before he pulled out at the very last second, thick ribbons of cum shooting across your stomach and already ruined folds, smearing sticky onto your skin and thighs.
he slumped forward after with a loud groan, his forehead pressing against yours as both of you gasped for breath, your body still trembling beneath him as he kissed your cheek softly, so sweet it felt almost unreal.
“…sex ban,” you croaked after a long moment, hoarse, but determined.
jisung blinked at you in confusion before his face dropped into pure devastation, those round puppy eyes going wide. “wait, what?”
“yep. sex ban. no more for a week,” you panted, watching the misery flicker across his slightly sweaty face.
“b-but- i’ll be good!” he stammered, already pouting, and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out because god, he was so screwed, and it was all his own doing….
summ: your prize for winning a beer pong game was getting shared by two frat boys upstairs. consider it one of the house privileges.
⋆ pairing: frat boy!chan x f!reader x frat boy!jisung
⋆ genre: smut (minors dni)
⋆ tags/cw: college au, threesome, rough sex, dom!chansung, pet names (baby, good/pretty girl), alcohol mention, kissing, dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, oral fixation, fingering, tit play, nipple play, hair pulling, ass slaps, oral (m!receiving), cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex, semi-public sex
⋆ words: 2.8k
a/n: UGH. here i am with the most mouth-watering, toe-curling fic i’ve posted so far. idk what possessed me while writing this request, but i’m honestly grateful it did lol. yes, the jisung favoritism is still painfully obvious (my bad), but chan in this one??? insane. don’t know why i haven’t written him before. hope you enjoy those two men sharing you!!! >_<
the bass from downstairs rattled the cheap picture frames hanging on the hallway walls. the smell of cigarettes and cheap liquor was strong, making your head feel lighter. laughter echoed from every corner of the house.
but none of it held your attention for long because your eyes were fixed on han jisung.
he stood across the beer pong table with that stupid, cocky smile you wanted to wipe off his face, lazily rolling the ping pong ball between his fingers while the crowd around you shouted over one another.
the grin on his face only widened before he tossed you the ball with an easy flick of his wrist, leaning back against the wall behind him, completely relaxed.
“last cup, baby,” he called, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “you miss, you drink. make me proud and don’t miss your shot, jagi.”
his words were dripping with teasing flirtation, making you roll your eyes. even if the heat in your lower abdomen just kept building every time your eyes locked in his.
“you’re so annoying, hannie,” you teased, giggling at his offended expression.
you glanced down at the ball, turning it between your fingers while focusing on the last red cup sitting alone at the opposite end of the table.
and maybe it was the alcohol buzzing pleasantly through your system or the way jisung kept looking at you with that smug expression. either way, your thoughts felt hazy.
before taking the shot, your gaze drifted across the room, landing immediately on christopher.
he was sprawled across one of the couches with a drink in his hand, surrounded by half the fraternity. one arm rested along the back of the couch, his legs spread comfortably, messy blond hair falling into his eyes.
he’d been watching the entire game, his eyes never leaving you. he tilted his head slightly, that lazy smile on his face making your heart skip a beat.
“watch this,” you mouthed, knowing he would read your lips.
without hesitating, your wrist snapped forward. the ball arced cleanly across the table before dropping straight into the center cup, beer splashing over the rim.
the crowd roared behind you. one of your friends threw an arm around your shoulders before practically lifting you off the floor, laughing like you’d just won a championship instead of a stupid drinking game.
before you could even catch your breath, jisung’s hand was wrapped gently around your wrist, pulling you out of the whole crowd.
“c’mon, let’s get out of here,” he murmured, leaning close enough for only you to hear. “there’s less people upstairs.”
you laughed, breathless. you knew damn well neither of you had any intention of talking. he intertwined his fingers with yours and started leading you toward the staircase before anyone could stop you.
and right before disappearing into the hallway, you looked back, searching for christopher. as always, he was already looking at you with one eyebrow raised.
you tipped your head toward the second floor, blinking with a flirtatious smirk on your face. the corner of his mouth lifted in that slow, knowing way that always made your knees feel loose.
he barely nodded, letting you know that the message was received.
the music faded with every step upstairs. the hallway felt strangely quiet compared to the chaos below, the music little more than a muffled thump beneath your feet.
some doors were slightly open while others were locked, giving you a vague idea of what could be happening there. neither of you paid them much attention.
with little grace, jisung pushed open the first empty room he found and slipped you inside after him. you kicked the door shut behind you, the loud slam echoing through the hallway.
the second the door shut you were on him.
your mouths crashed, wet and urgent. jisung groaned into the kiss like he’d been starving for it all night, teeth catching your lower lip, sucking hard enough to sting, the sound vibrating against your tongue.
everything felt desperate, needy. his hands shoved under your top without ceremony, palms burning against your skin, sliding up your ribs until his thumbs pressed into the soft underside of your breasts.
“slow down, ji,” you mumbled against his mouth, a shaky smirk on your lips. your voice was already fading away, panting for air.
but he didn’t waste time.
jisung bent, palms sliding under your tights and lifting you like you weighed nothing. a small whimper slipped from your lips at the sudden movement, your legs wrapping around his waist on instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back.
the thick, clothed line of his cock pressed hard against your cunt through his jeans, the pressure relentless. you began to feel impatient, your hands roaming along his back, scratching loosely.
your body hit the wall, the impact forcing a whimper from your throat. jisung rolled his hips, slow and deliberate, grinding the rigid length against you, gasping and groaning obscenities. the friction dragging low moans and whines out of you, your thighs trembling around him.
“fuck, you’re driving me crazy. been staring at you all night,” he muttered, biting the side of your neck hard enough to make you whine. “let’s do something about it, yeah?”
with a grin on his face, he carried you to the bed and dropped you onto the mattress. the springs squeaked under your weight, bouncing. you pushed up onto your elbows just in time to see him crawling over you, eyes dilated.
he yanked his shirt off and tossed it aside, careless. his hands were quickly at your top, dragging it up and off, gaze dropping to watch the way your tits moved with the motion.
he reached for your bra next, fingers hooking the straps and pulling them down your arms in one slow drag. with a smooth motion he unhooked the clasp, throwing your bra far, far away.
both of you were breathing hard. you reached for the back of his neck and dragged him down into another kiss, messy and deep. jisung groaned against your mouth, the sound raw.
“fuck this,” he panted. “come here, baby.”
his mouth was on your tits before you could catch your breath. your face scrunched when he sucked one of your nipples, his tongue flicking fast and erratic, teeth scraping just enough to make your back arch.
“you sound so pretty,” he said, voice muffled against your breast. “wanna hear more of it.”
his free hand squeezed the other breast, thumb rolling over the stiff peak while his hips ground down on your crotch, seeking more friction. you could easily feel how hard he was, the thick ridge of him dragging against your cunt through too many annoying layers.
“ji- shit… please, s-slow down,” you breathed, finger twisting into his hair. your voice sounded broken, eyes blurred.
he left your breast with a short pop, leaving a deep, fast kiss on your lips before switching sides, sucking even harder. the wet sounds his mouth filled the small room.
you moaned loudly, biting your lower lip when you felt his free hand slide down your stomach, popping the button on your shorts and shoving inside. he dragged two fingers above your soaked panties, the warmth sending a sick thrill through him.
“mmmh- stop teasing,” you begged, your wet eyes looking at his.
“y’know your wish is my command, baby.”
he shoved his hand inside your panties right away, finding you already slick when he dragged his fingers through your folds. the amusement and arousal painted across his face.
it was too much, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
he bit his lip before pushing two fingers in without warning. you moaned and whimpered loudly, hips jerking up to meet his fast paced thrusts.
jisung cupped one of your tits in his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. his cock throbbing inside his pants, screaming for attention.
“already this wet? we’ve barely started,” he teased, a pout on his lips. he pumped his fingers faster, curling them on every pull. “chris’s gonna lose his fucking mind when he feels this.”
and like you had summoned him, the door clicked open.
unbothered, jisung looked over his shoulder. that wide heart-shaped smile growing on his face when he found christopher closing the door behind him with deliberate calm, leaning back against it. your cunt clenched around jisung’s fingers, expectantly.
christopher’s eyes traveled over the scene: your bare chest, jisung’s fingers still buried inside you, the small tears threatening to roll down your cheeks any minute now. he smirked slowly, hungry.
“started without me,” he noticed, tilting his head. his eyes fixed on you.
you lifted your head, voice hoarse. “thought you’d never get here...”
his smile sharpened at your words. he pushed off the door and crossed the room quickly. his hand found jisung’s shoulder, squeezing once, firm, before sliding down to cup your face, squeezing your cheeks.
“missed you too, baby,” he left a peck on your swollen lips.
jisung pulled his fingers free with a wet sound, sitting back on his heels with his chest heaving. a satisfied grin on his shiny, wet lips. both of you looked at christopher when he stripped his own shirt off, revealing his toned chest.
he approached the bed with a couple strides, immediately reaching for your shorts, yanking them down your legs along with your panties in one smooth, fast motion.
jisung drooled at the view of your naked body, his hand caressing his crotch, feeling the sick urgency of being buried inside you.
“want you on your knees. now,” his tone left no room for argument.
you slid off the bed eagerly, obedient. christopher sat on the edge of the mattress, legs spread. he tugged you between his open legs, unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock with ease.
it was already hard, thick, and flushed, the head glistening. you felt your mouth watering at the obscene sight. he wrapped a hand around the base, jerking it lazily with a smile on his face, his eyes never leaving yours.
his hand went to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, tapping the tip of his cock against your lower lip teasingly. your cheeks flushed violently at the shameless action.
“open your mouth, pretty girl,” he demanded, his fingers tangling in your hair. “want you to take it all.”
and you did without hesitation, desperate for the feeling of him fucking your mouth until your brain melts.
your eyes sparkled with excitement when his cock slid slowly inside, letting you feel every inch until the head nudged the back of your throat. the full feeling lit you on fire, the heat on your lower abdomen bursting.
“there you go,” he cooed, his thumb stroking your cheek. “just like that, good job.”
you watched him nod to jisung, who was almost in a trance watching the scene developing in front of him.
you could hear him unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans behind you, his warm hands brushing along your back until his fingers dug down on your hips, possessive.
a sharp inhale left you when he dragged you backwards until your ass was pressed against his dick. his hands caressed your thighs, pushing them apart gently, barely holding himself together when he saw your entrance willing for him and only him.
“gonna fuck you while you suck him,” jisung purred, voice bright and filthy. “ready for that, pretty girl?”
a small nod was all he needed. you sobbed aggressively when jisung’s blunt head nudged your soaked, slippery hole. losing your mind every time his free hand squeezed your ass, licking his lower lip.
jisung sank deeper, thrusting in hard until he felt the flushed head of his cock poking your cervix harshly. the stretch punched a moan out of you that vibrated around christopher’s length, making him hiss with pleasure.
“god… look at you. bet you’re dying for me to come in your mouth,” christopher hummed, smiling smugly. his grip on your hair tighter.
you nodded too quickly, too desperately. hollowing your cheeks, you shoved forward onto his cock, not stopping until your nose brushed the trimmed hair at his base. he petted your hair delicately, gripping your hair hard to guide your head in short, deep, controlled thrusts that matched jisung’s pace.
his hips stuttered, your gagging noises arousing him even more. the warm, slick feeling of your mouth sucking his length so eagerly dragging groans and whines out of him. he wouldn’t last any longer if you kept doing it this good.
“y-yeah, eyes on me, pretty girl,” he panted, biting his lower lip, frowning. “wanna see your cute face when i come in your mouth.”
your eyes were pinned on his aroused expression, fighting the urge to roll them back with every stimulus both of them gave you.
some tears started to fall down your cheeks when his thrusts began quicker, chasing his own orgasm now.
his hand gripped on the bedsheets under him, shutting his eyes tight when he started spilling into your mouth. hot pulses hit the back of your throat, making you choke with the big load that was sliding down it.
“shit- wanna see you swallow it,” he whined, releasing the grip on your hair slowly and pulling out his dick with a soft pop.
you did it, swallowing all of it with effort until there was nothing left. you opened your mouth shakily, peeking your tongue out for him. and christopher could just come right there just from that obscene image of you.
and even when you started panting for air, jisung didn’t let you catch a break at all.
the slow thrusts he maintained for a while started to grow a brutal pace, hips slapping against your ass, making it recoil. his smirk growing at the wet sound of your cunt taking him loud and obscene.
“mmh- so tight. made for my dick,” he panted, slapping your ass twice, making you cry loudly. “you must like being used like this, huh?” his voice was lewd, nasty. “our little frat house toy.”
his words hit somewhere deep and hot inside you, making your cunt clench around his cock even tighter. he reached around to rub your clit in tight circles, his fingers were relentless, slick with your arousal. the sensation of his cock pounding into you quickly unraveling you.
christopher caressed your face, shoving his thumb inside your parted mouth. your eyes darted at him, half-lidded.
“look at you, dripping down his cock already,” he mocked, drinking in every inch of your face.
“oh shit- you’re milking me so fucking hard,” jisung huffed, giggling breathless at your broken, incoherent moans. “be good and come for me, baby.”
your eyes rolled back when his pace became even wilder, messier. it was almost animalistic, making you whimper with each deep, erratic thrust.
“it’s- s’too much, jisung…” you cried, your face scrunched, drooling over christopher’s fingers. “fuck, feel so full… mmh- so, so c-close...”
his free hand slid up your spine and fisted in your hair, pulling your head back further until your throat was exposed. he leaned in, leaving some open-mouthed kisses and sucking your skin before his teeth scraped the shell of your ear.
your legs went numb when your orgasm hit sharp and sudden, thighs shaking, a broken sound tearing out of your abused, sore throat. your whole body was shaking, your hands closed into fists while your head dropped down, shut your wet eyes close.
and jisung fucked you through it, his pace never faltering, until your cunt stopped fluttering around him. his hands brushing your back, soothing you until you came back from your high.
“oh shit-” his legs jerked, hips chasing you. “gonna cum inside you, fuck- you’re milking me…” he babbled, whispering low on your ear.
his whole body was shaking, overstimulated, his only thought being the feeling of your pussy gripping him desperately, completely soaked. his hands went to your tits, squeezing them and using them as support.
his cock twitched helplessly inside you, pulsing as he spilled deep inside you. his fingers dug into your breasts hard enough to leave red marks on them. it was messy, you could feel it leaking down your thighs already.
“you did a good job,” christopher praised, his voice warm, soothing. “shower’s down the hall. we’ll clean you up.”
jisung pressed a kiss on your cheek, way softer now, while pulling out of you gently. a wicked smile across his face when he saw the mess he created between your legs. he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, sighing loudly.
“then… we can go home and do whatever you want,” he blinked, sticking his tongue out a little, teasing.
you laughed, hoarse, and let them pull you upright between them after getting dressed up again. christopher’s arm stayed around your waist while jisung’s fingers laced through yours.
three twenty nine - bang chan x fem!reader
Chan is burnt out and working late...
Unable to get anything done, he calls you to come help him and you know exactly what he needs...
wc: 2.7k.
warnings: explicit sexual content, he's a little subby (?), fluffy as hell, p in v, unprotected (do not do that), kinda public sex in the studio, i call him chris i'm one of those girls sors, if i missed anything let me know!
His head hung over his notebook, fingers knotted in his white blonde hair. Eyes squeezed shut, unmoving, Chan didn’t even flinch when the door you stormed through slammed into the wall, closing with a swift click.
A curve in his broad shoulders down his back made your nose scrunch. He’d been sitting here too long.
Hours ago he sent you a text, one short and sweet— don’t wait up for me i’ve got crazy work to do.
Answering him with the sweetest, i’ll leave the door unlocked, you expected a stern response in regards to your safety, but received nothing.
He didn’t even read the message.
He told the truth, he had crazy work to do. Promo pics for the new album had been released and he didn’t even run to Bubble. All last night he’d been sending messages about working out, his need for exertion, exercise, to move his body, like he’d been talking about for a few days now. Surely he was expected to send more, or update his routine, but while one comeback approached, he found himself knee deep in another.
The next one.
Do It wasn’t set to release for another month or so.
Useless to fight him though, he did it to himself. He didn’t need to carry this burden alone, no matter if he thought he was supposed to, he had seven other members to lean on.
With how his body reacted to your gentle whisper, you quickly realize his message of, come here need help, received fifteen minutes ago would not go over well if answered by anyone but you.
“Chris?”
His fingers flexed. “Fuck,” he muttered.
Dropping his hands, he used to them to push his chair out from under his desk. Sitting back in his seat, he sprawled his legs in front of him, stretching them out like he’d been stuck in that spot from his first text to his last. Fingers gripping at the black joggers hugging his legs, he tipped his chin back, resting his head on the chair.
He pouted his lips after a once over of your being. “C’mere,” he whispered, tapping his fingers on his lap.
Kicking off your shoes, padding over to him in your socks, long sweatpants dragging on the tiled floor, you tossed your things on his desk and climbed into his lap, slotting your knees around his hips. Strong hands took you by the waist, fingertips pressing into your curves, pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together.
One hand took to your cheek, his thumb brushing under your lashes. “You were asleep,” he whispered.
Eyes flickering to his lips, you whispered, “No I wasn’t.”
His pout deepened, his gaze drawing over your heavy eyes. “Yes, you were. You close your eyes right now and you’re done. I know this face.”
Sliding your arms around his neck, you took a deep breath that triggered him to take one with you. “Okay, I was sleeping.”
He gave you the smallest shake of his head. “Don’t pretend just to make me feel better.”
Brushing your nose over his, watching as his eyes fluttered shut, you whispered, “What’s wrong?”
Both hands around your waist again, he tugged you closer if he could and adjusted in his seat, the slightest friction to your center causing you to flinch ever so slightly. Hooded eyes gazed up at you, the corners of his lips pulled down into the tiniest frown he had ever worn.
“Chris, it’s okay,” you assured him with a head shake and kiss to his cheek that made his eyes shut. “Come home. Leave all of this here, and come back to it when you’ve slept, and eaten something better than…” Glancing over your shoulder, his hold not letting you move very far, you caught a glimpse of the Monster cans and empty bags of snacks littering his work space.
When you faced him he wore the ghost of a smile.
“You’re gonna kill me,” you mumbled, and he let out a quiet laugh. You scoffed, toying with long strands of hair hanging against his neck. “Sure, let my stress over your wellbeing be what amuses you, Christopher.”
Hands smoothing up your back to pull you down on top of him, he cracked a smile and leaned forward to catch your lips in a kiss. “‘M sorry,” he muttered between shared air.
Grasping him by the shoulders, you pressed your forehead to his and sighed. “I could’ve brought you dinner. Your brain works best after a proper meal, or after you’ve sweat it out, maybe you need to go down to the gym. Send some silly messages and thirst traps–”
He cut you off with a kiss. Lips tangling, he held you on top of him and slid his hands down to the curve of your ass, giving you a needy squeeze. Pressing his hips up into your own, his cock half hard, you gasped and he let out a heavy sigh.
“That clears your mind,” you whispered.
He smiled, lips eager to be back on yours. “Also good for my health.”
Taking your hands to his cheeks, tipping his chin backward, you looked down at him and pursed your lips. “It is like… two forty seven in the morning.”
Glancing to his computer screen, his eyes narrowed when they met yours. “How’d you do that?”
You shrugged. “Intuition.”
He blinked. “Naturally.”
Sitting back on his lap, his disappointment evident on his face, you smiled at him and drug your hands down his chest. Taking a deep breath, his chest expanding as your fingers pulled at the waistband of his pants, he pulled his hands off your body and gripped the metal of the armrests your knees rested under.
He grew harder beneath you, you could feel him. A one track mind jumping ship faster than you can say let me have you, and all because he wanted to do anything else but focus on his damn work that likely had been finished weeks ago. He couldn’t leave it alone, ever, not until it’d been released. Pushing himself until the very last second of every deadline to exist in his world– His twenty eight a strong fifty three when he sat at this desk.
Or any desk for that matter.
Admirable, really, but you needed him at twenty eight.
“You know what else she told me?” you asked, and he perked a brow. “My intuition?”
Chan breathed on manual, his gaze fighting to look at your hands, or your eyes, or your hips, or your fingers that toyed with the elastic of his joggers. “She’s scary sometimes.”
You smiled. “Is she ever wrong?”
“Fuck no,” he gasped as you tugged.
Working the stretchy fabric to his knees, exposing him and his need for you to touch him, throbbing, leaking, you reached for the waist of your own sweats and pulled them down.
Whispering, “I knew what you needed,” in his ear as you settled yourself on top of him, his whimper as your slit kissed his tip ignited a fire in your belly, one that pulsed through your veins as you suck down onto his cock, the stretch too much without him prepping you first.
Too full, too big, too much, too much… To the hilt, you stilled.
You would not allow your brain to turn off.
As much as it fought with you, dizziness second nature when he pressed so deeply within you, you sucked in a trembling breath and released it all at once, sliding your arms over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck.
His full, pink parted lips, he breathed through them, brows cinched in the middle, jaw slack, breath ragged. Blinking up at you, deep brown eyes glazed over and heavy, his own fatigue taunted him.
“Baby,” he whispered as his hands took their time sliding over your thighs and up your bare hips, sitting perfectly in the curve they made. Spreading his fingers, he grabbed handfuls of you and moaned unabashed, shifting you on his cock just a bit.
You both winced, but he whimpered.
Pressing kisses to his jaw as his head thrashed to the side, you grazed your tongue beneath his ear and gently caught his lobe between your teeth. Parting your lips to fan hot air over his neck, content as goosebumps erupted over his skin and he trembled, you flattened your tongue and danced it from his jaw to his collar bone.
Hands gripping you tighter, sure to leave marks there for you to find tomorrow, he gasped through a whine and pushed up into you, acquiring the exact sound he yearned for.
“Baby, please.”
His tone. Never a beggar, a brat maybe, mastermind ragebaiter with a shit eating grin, but never one to beg.
Letting your lips trail up his jaw and pass over his lips with an obscene smack, you breathed him in and danced your fingers through his hair, combing it backward away from his face, letting your fingers graze his scalp, soothing him.
“How do you want it?”
He gulped, looking at you like he could swallow you whole, but at the same time, he put his conscience in your pocket. “Just like th-this,” he whispered, tensing his fingers, moving them further back to grip your ass. “Don’t… Don’t fuck me.”
Tucking more hair behind his ears, you kissed the tip of his nose and brushed your cheek over his, laying your weight on top of him fully, one final little push to get him and keep him all the way in.
“Don’t fuck you,” you repeated his words in case his muddled brain didn’t piece them together correctly.
He grew hotter, his body heat having spiked since you sat on his lap, and you could feel him inside of you, pulsing, a need to move, to fuck. If you were at home he’d have you a sobbing mess by now. If you were anywhere else for that matter, or if he were in any other circumstance other than burn out.
Chan grasped control, he wanted it, he pursued it, stared it in the face, made it his bitch, but not tonight.
For once in his life he needed to release it.
Your fingers brushed his skin delicately while your gaze watched him suck down mismatched breaths. Laying your head down on his shoulder, kissing his cheek one more time, you smoothed a hand over his chest and thundering heart threatening to rip through the black tee he wore.
“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered, fingers swirling in a circle in the valley of his chest. His brow furrowed. “I always am, Chris.”
His eyes fluttered open. “You say my name so pretty.”
Nudging his jaw with your nose, you sat up to meet him eye to eye. “Chris,” you whispered, kissing him once. He groaned deep within his chest, a rumbling that sent a shock to your core. “My Chris who works himself too hard. Chris who needs a break. A month-long vacation with his girlfriend who loves him, who’s proud of him, who needs him.”
He hummed, kissing you with fervor. “Where’re we going?” A heady sigh caught you both off guard, one that fell from his lips as he glanced between your bodies. “So wet, baby, fucking christ.”
You clenched around him without meaning to, and you both whined. He adjusted in his seat again, and your vision went blurry.
“Chris,” you whimpered, grabbing onto him.
“Kinda like torture,” he released his hold on you and gently smacked your ass with both hands before gripping back onto you, “But it’s too hot knowing your cunt’ll soak my cock no matter what.”
Lips parting to speak, no noise came out. You had mere seconds until the thoughts in your head watered down to his name and his cum. Chan smiled, his spark returning tenfold.
“Answer my question, baby,” he cooed, hands massaging into your thighs, your hips. “Where are we going?”
Blinking emptily, locked in on his darkened eyes, his olive complexion, the obvious fact that he filled you entirely shocking the nerve endings of every compatible system, you whispered, “Anywhere… but here.”
“Hm,” he hummed, pushing his chair away from the desk. Holding you in his arms, he spun the chair around and carried you with him, smile growing as your legs wrapped around his waist. Splaying you backward on the black leather sofa, ensuring your head laid comfortably over the arm rest, he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, and pulled your sweatpants off of you entirely– without ever slipping out of your heat. “How’s this?”
Wrapping your arms around his back, pulling him down onto you, you breathed, “Perfect,” and caught his lips in a messy kiss as he pulled out of you, only to push back in with a moan. Closing your eyes, your body on fire, your thoughts a matter of nothing, you whispered, “Use me.”
His hand gripped your jaw. “No,” he grumbled, pressing his fingers into your cheeks. “Stay with me. Open.”
Your lips parted, your tongue poking out, and he breathed through his amused pride.
“Your eyes, baby, but good girl.” Meeting his gaze, you sighed, and he pouted. “You’re so sleepy,” he said softly, dancing his thumb against your skin, his hips in a steady motion, slow pulls of in, and out. And in, and out.
Your quiet, gentle whines, your tiny, unintelligible moans, like this, meant everything to him. Every hitch of his breath, every involuntary sound that melted from his lips, like this, meant it was real.
Bodies moving in sync, heavy sighs keeping time, sweat adorning your skin and his, parted lips brushing with every rock of his hips, drinking up every breath, every sound that slipped into the heat of the erotically charged air surrounding you– You’ve never been pushed over the edge so intensely, so powerfully, and Chan liked to toy with you.
But, this was different.
Eyes rolling back, toes curling, your body wrapped around him, clamping down on him everywhere. Mouth falling open, Chan kissed at the corners as you shook, body convulsing, euphoria washing through you, every limb, every vein. His name, on your lips like a prayer, a pathetic whimper to stagger his hips, his composure coming to a close as you squeezed him tight.
“Oh, fuck, good girl,” he moaned, nose pressed to your cheek as his thrusts grew sloppy riding you through your high.
Grasping handfuls of his shirt, you gasped, “Chris,” turning your head to kiss him rough.
Just as his tongue dipped out to meet yours, he groaned and grabbed onto you. Eyes screwing shut, he clenched his jaw and let out a broken moan as he spilled into you, tiny thrusts of his hips emptying himself entirely.
He curled up on top of you. Arms sliding around your back, head burrowing into your neck, your chest, he held onto you and eased his breath in time with yours, nirvana induced heartbeats pounding like no other.
Palms flat on his back, feeling each breath he took with the rise and fall of his ribs, the moment you felt as though you could move them, you drew small circles, and he picked up his head.
“Feel better?” you asked within a whisper.
Smiling, sleepier than ever, he hit you with a slow blink. “Come with me to work everyday.”
Breathing through a laugh, you drug a hand through his tousled hair, smiling as his eyes grew heavier. “Then you’ll get nothing done.” You grasped his cheek and brushed his lashes with your thumb.
He smirked. “That’s your dream.”
Pinching his cheek, you whispered, “This room isn’t soundproof during the day.”
“They’ve heard you before,” he teased, wiggling his brow, each blink growing longer and longer.
Scoffing, you brushed back his hair and said, “Jisung did, and that was one time, and it was an accident.”
Chan shrugged, shifting himself around you. Sitting up for all but three seconds, he grabbed ahold of your sweatpants and helped you back into them, situating his own. Settling beside you, cradling you in the nook of his body you curved perfectly within, he slid an arm under your head for you to lay on and wrapped the other around your middle.
“What time is it?” you whispered through a yawn, knowing you’d both fall asleep here, then wake up to get a coffee from the corner cafe before he holed himself up in here for another twenty four hours.
“You tell me,” he said, voice deep, full of tired.
Closing your eyes, sinking against him, you whispered, “Three twenty nine.”
He picked up his head and squinted in the glow of his computer screen. He took a quick breath and scoffed, thoroughly amused. “Unbelievable.”
I BEGGED MY HOT ASS TA FOR A GRADE CURVE AND GOT CURVED BY HIS D*CK INSTEAD !
this is smut, do not interact if under 18
𓏲੭ ˒ he’s your TA. you’re failing his class. but he doesn’t think you’re dumb— just distracted. and now he wants your full attention.
pairing: TA!bang chan x f!reader genre/tags: college au, smut with plot, implied age gap, way too much sexual tension, oral (m + f receiving), dom!chan, nipple play, light degradation/praise kink, piv, unprotected s*x, creampie, possessive!chan, aftercare words: 11.5k (wtf is my life 💔)
[ note. ] — finally posting the first fic of my crash course series (i changed the titles hehe), spent the whole night editing this so i could post this weekend >.< ALSO thanks sm for 6k !! ily guys so bad <3
cross posted to AO3
college wasn’t supposed to feel this suffocating. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself between long sighs of frustration and tugging on your hair like somehow pulling harder will pull an answer to all of your problems out of the air. it had to get better, right? at some point, you’d figure this out. at some point, you’d be able to catch up like everyone else, slide back into a rhythm, fix your grades, fix everything.
but no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, deep down you knew the truth.
you were absolutely fucked.
it had been building for months now, a slow unraveling that you hadn’t even noticed until the exam grades started rolling in and hitting like sucker punches straight to the ribs. a 61 in econ. 58 in calc. a humiliating 43 in the upper-division statistics course you had only signed up for because your advisor swore up and down you’d “do fine” if you just showed up, paid attention, and did the work. of course, nobody told you how hard it’d be to do the work when school felt like breaking your brain with each passing week.
and sure, it wasn’t entirely your fault you were in this now completely catastrophic mess. life happened. you were busy. sooo busy.
tests piled up, papers came due, and before you knew it, the semester had gotten away from you. one skipped lecture turned into two, and then three, because the hangover was too heavy, or you woke up too late, or maybe skipping just became easier than showing up and realizing you still didn’t fucking get it.
your friends didn’t seem to have a problem with it though. in fact, they seemed to be doing just fine, sitting pretty with half the stress you carried while partying with twice the energy. it was infuriating.
how did these trust fund, name-dropping, parents-pay-everything-for-me types just breeze their way through life while you clawed and struggled and stressed for every single second of yours?
“just don’t think about it,” they’d say when you worried aloud about your scholarship.
“take a mental health day. or week. you deserve it!”
“a curve will carry you through like always.”
but that curve was not saving your ass this time, and honestly, the guilt of falling so far behind wasn’t even the worst part.
the worst part was knowing you were the one who let it happen.
there wasn’t anyone else to pin this on, no scapegoat for the party invites you shouldn’t have accepted or the nights out you couldn’t say no to because it’d look bad to disappear. you’d just… kept up.
and things were fun— exciting, even— until they weren’t. until you realized just how hard you were sinking.
and now here you were; failing half your classes, barely passing the others, one more missed lecture away from kissing your scholarship goodbye. and you didn’t even have anyone to turn to for help.
the people you called “friends,” those picture-perfect girls with weekly blowouts paid on daddy’s card and those polished guys with frat pins and parents on donor lists— weren’t actually your friends.
because now that you needed something? now that you were desperate for someone to swoop in and save you from drowning? they only had half-hearted excuses to offer you.
“sorry, babe, we’re swamped with group projects,” one girl had said while sipping an overpriced matcha latte you knew for a fact her roommate paid for.
“dude, just hit up someone in your class. you’ll figure it out,” one guy shrugged, adjusting his collar on what was clearly a brand-new polo shirt for his friday night out.
every excuse only added to the dull ache in your chest.
so maybe they weren’t your friends, not really. maybe they just liked the version of you who didn’t ask for anything, the one who could keep up, who looked shiny and fun and confident all the time.
now, all you had to show for was a rapidly deteriorating GPA, an inbox of ignored emails from professors, a terrifyingly close “academic warning” notice, and a desperate gamble hanging on a thin thread of possibility.
and that gamble was chan.
you didn’t actually know much about him beyond his name, just that he seemed way too hot to be stuck explaining complex theories to freshmen and that he was ridiculously good at his job as a TA for your statistics course.
almost too good.
you sat in the back most of the time, quietly zoning out while he spoke about office hours or went over practice examples that looked more like hieroglyphics to you than math. sometimes you’d stare down blankly at your notebook, pretending to write, just so he wouldn’t call on you.
but now, you didn’t really have a choice anymore, did you?
you were cornered— trapped, honestly— with the weight of your failing grades pressing down on you so hard that it felt like it’d snap your spine in half. chan was your only chance to fix this, and there wasn’t any guarantee he’d even agree to help you.
as far as you could tell from the few glances— okay, stares— you’d snuck during class or the rare moments you did try to pay attention, chan wasn’t the kind of guy who did anyone favors for free. he was helpful, sure. ridiculously patient, disgustingly smart, but distant in this professional, untouchable way that felt more intimidating than approachable.
which sucked because he was so insanely good-looking it made your stomach twist everytime you saw him.
like how was that even fair? how did someone with a full schedule of grading papers and breaking down theorems for struggling students still look like that?
it wasn’t just the obvious things, either, like his jawline being sharp enough to slice through a brick wall or the way his hair always sat perfectly, even if it looked like he’d run his hands through it a million times. or the broad shoulders that strained against his button-ups, the way the rolled up sleeves gave a front-row view of his inked forearms when he turned to write on the board, he’d done that on purpose, you were sure of it.
no, it was deeper than that. something about him just… oozed authority. he had this natural confidence, this charm that made every interaction feel intentional, sharpened by polite smirks and these piercingly knowing looks that made you feel like he could see straight through you.
and that was terrifying.
you weren’t exactly one to shy away from attention. hell, you practically craved it on most days, but the idea of being in the same room as chan, let alone putting yourself at his mercy by asking for a favor this big? it put knots in your stomach.
to be fair, it wasn’t just how hot he was or how sharp his tone could get if someone asked an obviously stupid question. it was the fact that you knew— you knew— he’d seen you at your worst.
because, let’s face it, you weren’t exactly subtle. it wasn’t hard to notice the girl stumbling into class ten minutes late with one hand clutching a coffee she clearly didn’t need and the other hand trying to smooth yesterday’s mascara out from under her eyes. or the girl who’d roll her eyes during presentations, whispering sarcastic comments to her desk mate only to fail her own turn at the podium because she hadn’t read the material.
you saw it in the way his eyes flicked over you sometimes— brief, appraising glances, like he was clocking all the things you were doing wrong but didn’t have the energy to care. and that made asking for his help… well, humiliating wasn’t even the right word.
but when you thought of all your options, or lack thereof, it was clear. chan was your only shot.
which leads you to now, racing down the hallway outside his office hours, totally unprepared and already out of breath just thinking about how this might go.
your sneakers squeaked against the tiled floor as you skidded to a halt in front of his office door, heart hammering out an uneven rhythm.
what were you even supposed to say? “hi, sorry for being the laziest, least deserving person ever, but can you please do me a favor and save my entire academic career ??”
your reflection wobbled in the slim window beside the door, your hair’s slightly disarray, and your tote bag’s slipping off one shoulder. the image made something bitter crawl up the back of your throat.
you didn’t even look like the kind of student chan would want to help. no pressed chinos or perfectly highlighted notes. you didn’t smell like coffee and effort; you smelled like nerves and desperation.
but fuck it. this was life or death.
your knuckles rapped against the wood once, then twice, before your hand fell limply at your side. god, your heart was racing.
“come in.” his voice rang out from the other side, clipped and smooth, familiar to the point where your knees almost gave out. there wasn’t a single part of you that felt ready for this.
steeling yourself with one last breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.
chan was at his desk, pen in hand, leaning over a stack of papers with that laser sharp focus that made you question if he was actually human. his glasses sat neatly in place, silver-framed and faintly reflecting the soft overhead light above him. it wasn’t until you had shyly cleared your throat that his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours. they were unreadable, scanning over you, down to your bag and back up again, before settling on your face.
“need something?” he asked, leaning back in his chair slightly.
this was it. do or die.
you tried not to let your voice tremble too much as you spoke. “hi, uh- hi, chan. do you have a minute? it’s about my grades.”
there was a pause, half a second that felt more like half an hour, before the smallest flicker of amusement crossed his lips.
“i figured.”
just two words, said so lightly they could’ve meant nothing, but they were enough to make your stomach curdle. you wrung your hands together in front of you, shifting slightly under the sheer weight of his gaze as he gestured for you to sit.
“go ahead,” he said, resting his chin in his palm now, pen dangling lazily between his fingers. his tone stayed polite, but there was something about the way his eyes followed you as you sank into the chair. “tell me what’s going on.”
fuck. where did you even start?
you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly feeling bone dry as you stared back at him. chan’s gaze was pointed, measured, like he wasn’t just listening— he was assessing. waiting, with those sharp brown eyes unblinking, his full attention zeroing in on you in a way that was making it near impossible to concentrate.
this was already a disaster…
“well, um,” you began, your fingers nervously twisting the strap of your bag as you attempted (and failed) to keep your voice level. there was something annoyingly self-assured about the way he sat there, looking completely relaxed while your nerves threatened to devour you alive.
“i’ve been struggling with the coursework,” you said, your tone more apologetic than you wanted it to be. “like, a lot. stats isn’t really coming easy to me, and i guess i.. fell behind.”
he hummed softly, as if that didn’t surprise him one bit.
the sound made your stomach twist uncomfortably.
“i know it’s my fault,” you blurted out, tightening your grip on your bag’s strap like it’ll stop the word vomit. “i’ve been really busy, too busy, honestly, and i know i didn’t prioritize things the way i should have, but i swear, i’m not usually this bad—”
“how bad?” chan interrupted coolly.
you blinked, your voice freezing in your throat.
he quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, a gesture so calm, so subtle, and yet it sent a wave of dread rolling through your chest anyway.
“your grades,” he clarified, tone light and casual, the pen absently swaying between his fingers as if he wasn’t deliberately making you squirm. “how bad are we talking here?”
“uh…” you hesitated, swallowing again as the words caught on the lump in your throat. there really wasn’t a more humiliating way to admit this, so you just… ripped the bandaid off.
“failing,” you confessed. “like, actually failing.”
if chan was surprised, he didn’t show it. he didn’t do anything, really— except lean back further in his chair and once again let that infuriating, unreadable expression sit on his face.
“right,” he said slowly, dragging the word out as his eyes flitted down to his desk.
right.
the way he said it— low, simple, dismissive— was somehow worse than if he’d said nothing at all.
your cheeks flushed with heat as you continued feebly, trying to fill the silence stretching between you. “but, um, i can fix it! i’m not- i’m not hopeless or anything, and if there’s any sort of grade curve, i can—”
“you’re not getting a curve,” he said bluntly, cutting you off.
your heart sank somewhere into the pit of your stomach.
the words hit you like a brick to the face— not cruelly, and not even softly, just… so matter-of-fact, almost like he hadn’t even registered your desperation.
“oh,” you said lamely, voice wavering.
for a moment, it felt like the shame might actually swallow you whole.
you couldn’t bear to look at him now, but you felt his eyes narrow on you anyway— burning a hole through you as every ounce of resolve you’d built for this conversation unraveled bit by bit. this is what you’d been afraid of, wasn’t it? being dismissed. getting rejected so fast he wouldn’t even finish hearing you out.
“but,” chan said after the pause had lingered just a second too long, “if you’re serious about getting your grades up, maybe there’s something we can do.”
your head shot up so fast you felt lightheaded.
“r-really?” you stammered, your eyes wide and hopeful.
for the first time, his lips turned upward into a sly smirk— a barely-there expression that might’ve seemed harmless if his eyes didn’t gleam the way they did alongside it.
“sure,” he said simply, leaning forward now to rest his elbows on the desk between you. “come to my next office hours, and we’ll see how serious you actually are.”
office hours. simple enough, you thought.
except… the way he said it didn’t exactly feelsimple.
there was this weight behind the words, an implication you didn’t quite have the nerve (or the clarity) to fully dissect.
“okay,” you said quickly, trying to hide how much of a mess you already were.
chan reached for his notepad then, flipping it open before scribbling something down. you didn’t think you were looking particularly hard at his hands or his forearms, but the way the sleeve of his button-up pulled tight around his arm certainly made it hard not to notice.
“you’ll need help catching up. this isn’t something you can fix overnight,” he began, his voice returning to that smooth, professional tone that simultaneously put you on edge and made your chest feel unreasonably tight. “stats takes focus, effort, attention. it’s not something you can bullshit your way through.”
“i know,” you murmured, feeling small under the lecture but nodding eagerly anyway. “i will. i’m- i’ll focus, i promise.”
he didn’t answer, but the faintest hint of amusement returned to his face when he tore out the slip of paper and handed it across the desk.
a phone number.
his phone number.
“what’s this for?” you asked curiously, blinking up at him.
“so i can send you the address.”
your heart stuttered. “uh… address for what?”
he leaned back in his chair again. “you’ll come to my place next week,” chan said, still calm, but there was a heaviness in his tone you couldn’t miss. “that way, you can get the help you actually need, without all the distractions.”
there was something unreasonably intimate about the idea— you couldn’t even imagine slipping into his orbit here without losing your composure, and now he wanted you to see him in his space?
another knot twisted violently in your stomach.
he must’ve noticed the hesitation creeping into your face because the smirk tilted downward briefly, replaced with something oddly serious instead.
“you do want to get a passing grade, don’t you?”
his question made your lips part uselessly. “y-yeah. of course!”
“then i’ll see you there,” he said plainly, with an air of finality that left you no room to argue even if you’d wanted to.
you clutched the small slip of paper tightly between your fingers as the weight of his expectations, and his presence, stuck to your skin like damp heat.
and when you left that night, your own nerves clinging to you like static, one thing was painfully clear.
you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.
+
waking up five hours ahead of schedule should’ve been the first sign that today was going to feel completely off.
in fact, the entire day felt like one long, slow burn nightmare that had started from the moment your eyes shot open at 4 am and never quite recovered. with each passing minute, the reality of what you were about to do crept closer, sitting heavier and heavier in your chest.
you were going to chan’s… apartment. alone. to study. nothing else, obviously. just a completely normal… consensual… totally academic tutoring session with quite possibly the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on.
so what if his arms were covered in tattoos you wanted to lick the outlines of? or if the memory of his sharp smirk from office hours was burned so deeply into your brain that even your shower thoughts felt unholy?
it wasn’t like anything was going to happen.
still, you couldn’t stop the way your whole body buzzed with nerves as you left your apartment that afternoon.
you’d spent way too much time debating what to wear— going through a tornado of outfits in your tiny room until your bed was buried in every top and pair of jeans you owned. you finally settled on something that you hoped gave, oh, this? i just threw it on! what, no, of course i don’t care that deeply about your opinion of me, even if the truth was written all over your mistake-proof eyeliner and the lingering scent of vanilla perfume on your wrists.
as a last minute, desperate attempt to soften him up, you stopped by a bakery near campus to grab some cheesecake slices. they were way too expensive for your crumbling student budget, but you figured they might do a little to save your poor, failing ass if your consistent eye twitch didn’t already scream pathetic gratitude. it was as much a bribe as it was a peace offering. you were about to invade his personal space, after all.
when you got to his building, you were a goddamn wreck.
your hands were clammy against the handle of the bakery box, your stomach twisting into violent knots as you rode the elevator to his floor. when the doors slid open, the reality of the situation hit you all over again; chan had only agreed to this because you were failing.
it wasn’t because he liked you, or thought you were special, or that he wanted to spend any alone time with you, despite every wildly horny fantasy your brain had conjured over the weekend. no, you were here because you were barely passing, and whatever mercy he was giving you came with conditions.
he’s seen it all, you reminded yourself. heard it all. probably helped a million people like you. don’t think you’re anything special, idiot.
your hands shook slightly as you reached his door, and after a brief moment of hesitation, you knocked.
the sound echoed back sharply, filling the silence of the hallway like a bomb ticking down the seconds. you almost bolted on the spot before you heard the faint shuffle on the other side, quick footsteps, the sound of the lock turning— and then, there he was.
chan leaned against the edge of the doorframe, his hand rested casually on the knob as his eyes danced over you in an entirely neutral expression. no glasses today, you noted immediately, your stomach sinking at how irritatingly attractive that somehow made him.
“you’re on time,” he remarked, his voice warm, but lightly amused.
your brain tripped over itself like it was your first time understanding words. “oh- yeah. of course! i didn’t want to, uh, keep you waiting.”
...an embarrassing response. great start.
chan’s mouth quirked, faint but noticeable as he stepped to the side to let you in.
“come in. shoes off right there,” he instructed, gesturing toward the neatly lined space by the door.
you followed silently, fully aware of every movement you made as you tugged your sneakers off and balanced them into place. if your nerves hadn’t already clocked out from overuse, your next observation would’ve totally knocked you out:
his place was spotless.
you weren’t entirely sure what you’d been expecting, but “clean freak” definitely wasn’t on the list. chan’s apartment was airy, quiet, and— dare you say— insultingly immaculate.
there wasn’t a single stray sock, not a speck of dust, no sink of dishes, or tangled wires ruining your line of sight to his bookshelves and minimalist decor. every inch of the space reeked of effortless organization, right down to the softly folded blanket on the couch and the perfectly centered pack of coasters on the coffee table.
it made your mess of an apartment seem downright feral by comparison.
“cute shoes,” he said airily from the kitchen, snapping your attention back to him as he leaned briefly into the fridge.
you blinked. “what?”
he nodded toward where you’d set your sneakers by the door. “your shoes, makes me think of those cheesy cartoon outfits. the ones with stars or glitter or something. kinda fun.”
you weren’t sure if that was meant to be an insult or a compliment, so you went with the safest option. “uh, thanks?”
chan’s faint smirk returned, but just as quickly as it flickered across his face, he tilted his head toward the counter expectantly.
“what’s that?” he asked.
“oh!” you moved quickly to the kitchen, thrusting the bakery box slightly forward in your hands. “i brought these for you! uh, it’s just some pastries- cheesecake slices, actually. i thought they might…” you trailed off, your words jumbling under the weight of his sharp gaze. “you know. be, um, nice. like, as a thank you or something. for helping me.”
you swore his smirk softened into something closer to a genuine grin, but you couldn’t be sure when it disappeared so quickly after.
"you didn’t have to do that,” he said, sliding the box easily from your hands.
“i know, but…” you shrugged weakly. “i just wanted to.”
he didn’t respond, his fingers deftly undoing the box lid before plucking one of the cheesecakes out. the sight felt unreasonably intimate, his hand brushing faint crumbs from the edge of the slice, the subtle twitch of his jaw as he took a bite and let the flavor settle.
“these are good,” he muttered, nodding slightly to himself. “thanks.”
you couldn’t tell if it was your heart that skipped or the entirety of your respiratory system.
+
things started out normal enough— or, at least, as normal as they could be considering who you were talking to and where you were.
after clearing space at his kitchen table, chan brought over your textbook and a loose stack of papers, pen already twirling idly between his fingers as his other hand tugged his chair close enough to yours that your collective elbows almost touched.
you were pretty sure your breathing hadn’t returned to normal for the past twenty minutes. you were hyper-aware of everything. the smooth tone of his voice when he walked you through a concept, the subtle tilt of his head when he waited for your response, the faint drag of his cologne hanging in the air when he leaned just marginally closer to explain something written on the page.
and worse, you were hyper-aware of yourself— your knees glued together without even trying, the way you were actively avoiding looking at his jaw when he spoke lest your brain run headfirst into the gutter.
“you’re staring,” his voice broke through your thought spiral.
shit.
“what?” you said a little too quickly.
“the page,” he clarified, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward knowingly as he glanced between your face and the textbook. “you’ve been staring at it without writing for at least five minutes. you good, or am i wasting my time here?”
heat crawled its way onto your cheeks as you scrambled to collect yourself. “no- no! you’re not wasting your time! sorry, i just—”
“got distracted?”
you hesitated, wetting your lips.
chan’s eyes dragged toward your neck for half a second before refocusing on your face.
“uh… yeah,” you murmured, staring pointedly at the page.
for a few tense beats, you felt like he might call you out for it.
but instead, he just leaned back slightly, pen tapping once against the edge of the table.
“then get back on track,” he said firmly, his gaze somehow impassive and heavy all at once.
sure, you thought bitterly to yourself. easier said than done... when the guy helping you has literal pornstar hands.
chan’s voice cuts through your thoughts once again, a faint edge to it this time that told you he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea that you weren’t wasting his time here. “you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, tapping your mostly blank notebook with the end of his pen.
you blinked out of your haze and nodded way too quickly. “yeah. totally ready. so ready.”
you absolutely, 100%, did not feel ready. not when you were currently dangling a very loose grip on your academic salvation— and yout raging hormones— and failing at both. yet somehow chan managed to keep his composure as if this wasn’t a complete minefield of professional boundaries.
meanwhile, you were over here sweating bullets.
“alright,” he said, leaning forward again, his broad shoulders casually brushing against yours. if he noticed the way you stiffened, he didn’t say anything. “let’s start simple… p-value hypothesis testing. what’s the first step?”
you stared at the page. your brain immediately short circuited.
what’s a p-value, again? what was anything?
chan waited a single beat, then sighed softly, setting his pen down. “you… don’t know the first step, do you?”
oh god. here it came. the humiliation. the “i knew it” look. maybe even a quiet dismissal to wrap things up early before sending you sliding further into a deeper pit of failure.
you started to stammer out some sort of excuse (“oh, i studied this, i promise- okay, maybe not entirely, but i—”), but chan tilted his head and spoke before you could spiral completely.
“it’s fine if you don’t,” he said casually, folding his arms on the table. “that’s why you’re here, right? because you don’t know it yet. the whole point is to fix that.”
you froze.
his tone was impossibly calm, but something beneath it made your breath hitch. if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost call the sharpness soothing.
“right,” you muttered, shrinking a little further. “my bad. let’s…start again.”
chan gave a faint dimpled look as he leaned over the page and grabbed your pen. the pen you were holding. his hand accidentally brushed yours in the process, skin startlingly warm where it touched you. you nearly yelped.
“relax,” he said, not unkindly. “no one’s grading you here, except me.”
unfortunately for you, that felt so much worse..
+
after nearly an hour with his voice calmly talking you through samples, datasets, and linear regression analysis (all concepts that still felt vaguely indistinguishable from alien geometry), you’d somehow managed to make marginal progress— and chan had seemingly noticed.
“see? not bad,” he remarked as he glanced over your most recent set of notes, his eyebrows raising slightly. your handwriting was a little cleaner now, still a chaotic scrawl, but at least things looked almost organized. “you’ve got a handle on it.”
your chest filled with unexpected relief at his words. “you mean i’m not… a complete disaster?”
chan shrugged, brushing his hands over the table before shooting you a teasing grin. “i wouldn’t say that. you’re still a mess.”
you gawked at him. “seriously?”
“but,” he added, “you’re trying. i’ll give you that.”
you weren’t sure whether to hide your face or laugh until you cried, so you settled for rolling your eyes instead. his grin only deepened.
god, why did he have to look so good when he was being insufferable?
you glanced toward the books spread across the table, half a dozen equations and diagrams still staring back at you, and exhaled, hoping the knot in your chest would loosen. it didn’t. of course it didn’t.
the truth was, your nerves hadn’t settled once since you walked through his door. it wasn’t just the teasing remarks or the way he seemed to dig effortlessly under your skin with every perfectly timed knowing glance. it was the way he felt.
chan had this aura about him.
commanding, without shouting. stern, but not cruel. you couldn’t help but want to throw yourself at his feet and say, yes, i’ll sit here and listen for hours if it makes you keep talking. please don’t stop talking.
and okay, that was probably not the best train of thought to have while sitting in front of the TA who controlled your grades. but still.
you were trying.
when the session finally came to an end, you shuffled awkwardly as chan walked you back toward the door, your tote bag once again slung over your shoulder.
“thanks for… all of that,” you started, uncomfortably aware of how clammy your hands felt as they smoothed over the strap. “i know it’s not easy to deal with a failing, uh, wreck of a human being, but—”
“you’re not a wreck,” chan interrupted, his hand pausing briefly on the doorknob as he turned to face you. something in his tone was softer, not as sharp as usual, but still steady enough to stop the flow of your words dead in their tracks.
“…i mean,” you mumbled dumbly, unable to recover from the unexpected crack in his voice.
“i’ve had students who don’t try at all,” he continued, resting his shoulder casually against the door. “they show up late, make excuses, push everything onto someone else. but you’re here. you’re trying. that counts for more than you think.”
your brain did at least three flips and a cartwheel.
“oh,” you said after a beat, staring blankly. “thanks?”
chan’s smile this time was faint, but genuine— and it fucking killed you.
“tuesday next week,” he said casually, pulling the door open before looking you over again. “same time.”
you nodded quickly, trying to ignore how the way he was standing, leaning coolly into the doorway, made his dress shirt stretch just enough to outline the definition beneath his forearms— and goddamn it, your brain needed to stop looking for reasons to self-destruct in real time.
“got it,” you replied finally, your voice cracking slightly. “tuesday. next week. your place.”
for one horrible, beat-worthy moment, chan raised his eyebrows at how awkwardly you repeated the words. his lips tilted faintly, that same painstakingly neutral expression etched onto his face again before he glanced to the side.
“good,” he said, brushing his fingers casually through his blond hair. “don’t be late this time.”
you nodded far too quickly as you stepped into the hallway, your breath caught somewhere deep in your chest and refusing to let go until he gave you a final, two-fingered wave and shut the door behind you.
and as you made your way down the hall, heart still pounding, all you could think was:
there’s no way you’ll survive another week alone with him, is there?
+
if anyone had told you that this was how your semester would go— teetering dangerously between educational burnout and a full blown crisis of unhinged attraction— you wouldn’t have believed them.
then again, you also wouldn’t have believed that chan, your hot-as-hell statistics TA (who was only supposed to exist in the corner of your eye as some mildly inappropriate distraction during lecture), would be giving you one-on-one “study help” in his fucking apartment of all places.
honestly, the past week was starting to make your head spin. it wasn’t just the fact that you’d had two entire hours of uninterrupted, semi-casual conversation with him at his place. it was… everything else.
like how every once in a while now, when you passed him on campus, chan would send you this faint, almost smirk-like smile. just enough to acknowledge you in passing— a reminder that he noticed you, remembered you.
and everytime it happened, your stomach would twist.
the good twist. the kind that left an annoying ache inside you and made your face hot for the entirety of your next class.
chan, for his part, was impossible to read. professionally calm, unfailing in his confidence and aloofness, like every interaction he’d ever had with anyone was just another detail to tuck neatly into his increasingly unbothered day.
sometimes, it caught you off guard how unfazed he was, how precise every movement and word that fell from his lips seemed to be. but then there were little cracks. moments when he’d lean just a little too close, brush his hand against yours, or hold your gaze for just a second too long before looking away.
sometimes you wondered if he even noticed he was doing it, but then, there was a darker part of you, the louder part, that wondered if he was doing it on purpose.
if maybe, just maybe, those brief pauses in his movements carried a bit more weight. if maybe they whispered hints of curiosity, intrigue… or something else entirely.
by the time tuesday rolled around, you’d convinced yourself that your life was one endless spiral of humiliation and implosion.
because the mortifying truth was that, consciously or not, your behavior had become downright pathetic lately.
you’d spent hours agonizing over what to wear to your next session with him. subtle. casual. blank canvas vibes. but… you were also a living, breathing person with a functioning set of eyes and weekly terrible thoughts about chan in compromising positions, so— subtlety didn’t last very long.
instead, only twenty minutes before you were set to leave, you’d swapped out your first two outfits for something else entirely; something tight enough to be dangerous, just low-cut enough to hint without outright show.
effortless, you told yourself in the mirror, even though the amount of effort it took for you to tear your eyes away from your own cleavage was anything but subtle. he won’t even notice!
(spoiler: he noticed.)
and, of course, chan— being chan— acted completely immune.
when he opened the door for you this time, his expression barely shifted, except for a quick glance down at you, his gaze lingering for half a second before he looked away entirely.
“hey,” was all he said. and just like that, you were sweating out of places you didn’t even know could sweat.
you followed him inside like you were walking toward your fucking demise.
the studying itself started as normal, or as normal as it could get when your brain was currently tied up in your own delusions.
chan had cleared the table again, leaning back in his chair with the kind of effortless authority you couldn’t stop staring at even if you wanted to.
“you’re on your own for the first one,” he said simply, sliding a freshly written-out problem set across the table toward you. “show me how you’d do it. no help this time.”
on your own. fucking great.
you nodded quickly, eager, but mostly terrified to disappoint him— and immediately grabbed your pen.
his eyes scraped over your page as you worked, his chin resting against his palm in casual appraisal, until finally glancing over somewhere else. probably the wall or the clock or literally anything but you.
but you… couldn’t stop stealing glances at him.
and it was bad.
unhinged, honestly.
your brain was preoccupied with all the places it shouldn’t have been; his shirt pushed up slightly against his forearms again, revealing more of the ink you’d spent days mentally mapping out from last week’s memories. his brows furrowed faintly with concentration. the way his tongue brushed lightly over his lower lip when he leaned forward slightly to grab—
focus, you remind yourself harshly. seriously, shut the hell up. you’re failing.
...except focusing on him was exactly the problem.
by the time you finished the initial review process, you’d written so many questionable numbers that it almost felt embarrassing to show him the work.
“done already?” he asked, his voice pulling your head up.
“uh,” you said dumbly, sliding the notebook toward him far too quickly. “yeah! kind of.”
chan gave you a blank look, but it softened faintly as he flipped through each line of your work, his mouth twitching slightly with what you couldn’t decide was approval or disappointment.
"well, this part’s definitely wrong,” he said lightly, tapping the edge of your paper. “but at least you got one variable right this time. better than last week.”
a laugh bubbled up your throat before you processed it.
chan flicked his gaze back toward you briefly at the sound, his head tilting faintly.
somehow, the tension in your stomach tightened further.
+
it had only been an hour when things started to spiral.
chan leaned forward to clarify yet another equation you’d totally botched halfway through explaining. the subtle movement made your nerves hit their absolute limit, and suddenly, you couldn’t process a single thing he was saying anymore.
you nodded silently, robotically, as he pointed something out, but the tension had grown so unbearably tight that it felt like your body might snap in half if you didn’t get away for at least two seconds.
“uh, do you mind if i use your bathroom?” you blurted out suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor.
chan lifted an eyebrow but offered no resistance. “sure,” he said easily. “second door on the right.”
you slammed the door shut a little quicker than necessary, chest heaving out a conflicted breath as you caught your reflection in the mirror above his sink.
what were you doing?
you hunched forward slightly, your arms gripping the edges of the counter as your eyes scanned your flushed cheeks and slightly blown-out pupils.
this was insane.
you were really about to self-destruct in front of your TA.
taking shallow, forceful breaths, you tried again to reel in what little sense of self you had left.
it wasn’t just that chan was too good-looking for anyone’s health. it was his sharpness, his confidence— his way of seamlessly controlling the room with the smallest tilt of his chin and the faint, lingering bite of his words.
you weren’t just down bad. you were down atrocious.
your gaze drifted toward the sink while you mentally berated yourself over all the reasons this was so beyond inappropriate.
but instead, your eyes caught something else. an unfamiliar flash of color resting near the corner of the counter: a small, unopened box near the toiletries tray.
...a fucking box of condoms.
you blinked at it blankly for half a second before you stiffened in place with realization.
brand new. pristine. unopened. untouched.
what the hell???
a million questions ricocheted through your head all at once, loud and unbearably intrusive.
did he have a girlfriend? did someone bring these over for him? was he just… that prepared?
your face burned fiercely, the ridiculous line of thought spiraling deep enough to make you lightheaded.
if he was seeing someone, then why was the box unopened? and why, why, were you even dissecting this to begin with, as if it mattered in the first place?
you never had a chance anyway, your brain helpfully supplied. you knew it the second you walked into his office for help.
you didn’t know how long you spent in the bathroom, fuming quietly at the mirror and trying to sweat out the flood of shame that was now taking up every corner of your mind.
chan didn’t say anything when you came back.
but the way his gaze trailed over your face briefly— sharp, appraising, uncomfortably still— made you wonder if he could sense it.
worse, the hum of his voice when he asked if you were ready to start again almost sounded amused.
but no, there was no way.
you nodded numbly, sitting back down as the spiral of your thoughts continued to eat at you little by little.
but then.
chan leaned forward again.
this time— too close.
close enough that his hands briefly brushed over yours as you reached to grab your pen, the low murmur of breath at your ear turned something in your chest completely upside down.
“focus,” he said softly, lips barely tilting upward as his fingers tipped briefly over your notebook.
you stared— stunned, entirely flickered into stasis for just a split half second of hesitation.
the air in chan’s apartment felt so much thicker now, way too humid, like something you could taste if you stayed still long enough.
to your credit, you were trying to focus. really, you were.
but focus didn’t come easy when your TA— your stupidly hot, smart, sharp-tongued TA— was sitting across from you with that faint smirk curling on his lips, watching you too closely like he’d figured you out already.
maybe he had.
“so,” chan murmured, snapping you out of your reverie as he slumped ever so slightly further into his chair. you tried your hardest not to track the way his toned thighs stretched against the fabric of his joggers. “you’ve got two choices.”
“two?” you asked breathlessly, blinking way too fast to feel normal.
he tilted his chin slightly, fingers tapping idly against the table.
“either you tell me why you’ve been sitting there not even pretending to pay attention for the last twenty minutes,” he started smoothly, “or we call it a day, and i can stop wasting my time.”
you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from squirming.
that was new.
this wasn’t the calm, teasing chan from the first session. he didn’t even sound annoyed exactly, but there was an edge to his tone now, sharp and slow and cutting enough that you felt trapped.
“i’m- i was paying attention,” you blurted, a little too defensive to sound convincing.
his narrowed gaze told you exactly what he thought about that.
“you sure about that?” he asked, leaning forward now.
“yeah,” you mumbled, voice faltering slightly as he came impossibly close.
his lips curved sharply.
“prove it.”
the blush reached your ears faster than your brain could process what was happening. “prove it?” you repeated dumbly, as though the words had somehow dropped straight in from another dimension.
“mm,” chan hummed lightly, elbows digging into the edge of the table. the sheer confidence radiating from him was unnerving, not over the top, not cocky, but entirely in control.
he tipped his head toward your notebook, his forearms briefly flexing as he gestured for you to pick up the damned pen.
“last equation,” he murmured, and you swore the way his voice dropped made your heart skip a beat. “show me you’ve been paying attention this time.”
unfortunately, there were several factors actively working against you right now.
the first? chan, with his sharp voice and sharper smirk, was close enough to radiate heat, close enough that your knees brushed lightly under the table. the second? there was no fucking way you’d been paying enough attention to actually solve the equation in front of you.
your chest grew tighter by the second as you scrambled uselessly to make sense of it.
for a brief moment, he said nothing— just watched you with this lazy, barely interested gaze, his lips pressed into an almost-smile that you couldn’t read.
“c’mon,” he drawled finally. “you’ve got this, don’t you?”
the edge of his words made your stomach twist with heat.
surely, he didn’t mean… more than what he was saying, right?
you scribbled down the page as best as you could, desperate and embarrassed as you tried to scrawl out whatever guess felt the least wrong.
but before you could even feign confidence over the partial answer you’d written, a hand abruptly darted into your line of vision.
his hand.
chan’s fingers curled over the edge of your workbook as he slid it back toward himself, “wrong.”
your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.
of course it was fucking wrong.
you braced yourself for the usual disappointment or sharp remark. but instead of belittling your work, chan leaned forward again, folding his arms onto the table between you and leaving no room for you to escape his focus.
then, voice low and deliberate, he caught your gaze fully.
“you don’t even try to hide it anymore, do you?”
you froze. your face immediately burned. “what?”
“you’re not here to study,” he said plainly.
your jaw opened and closed uselessly, and you swore your heart was trying to make an escape straight through your ribs.
“you wear this,” chan murmured, his eyes flicking briefly, heatedly, down to the neckline of your fitted top before locking back on yours, “and you expect me not to notice?”
his words sent a wildfire tearing through your entire body.
you struggled to make sense of it all, to explain yourself, to breathe.
he noticed.
this smoking-hot TA, whom you’d been quietly (okay, maybe not so quietly) pining after, noticed. but he didn’t stop there.
chan leaned in further, the confidence practically rolling off of him, and softened his voice even more.
“you’ve got guts, throwing yourself at your TA like this.”
your entire head was a whirlwind of heat and adrenaline.
chan leaned back in his chair for a moment, still studying you like you were an equation he’d already solved in his head.
the glint in his eye left you pinned in place— and you weren’t sure if it was fear or thrill racing through you when he tilted his head.
“get up.”
you blinked hard. “...what?”
“get up,” chan repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate this time.
your legs moved before your brain could catch up, your heart racing wildly as you stood in front of him like it’d been his implicit command all along.
“do you want to keep wasting my time?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, his eyes burning into you like they were stripping you bare.
“n-no,” you stammered.
“then prove it,” he said with maddening calm. his voice was low but full with that commanding edge that kept sending waves of heat to your core.
you opened your mouth uncertainly, but before you could respond, his gaze dropped, gesturing down toward his lap.
and fuck, if that didn’t make your entire foundation shift.
the stretch of his thighs, the bulge visible against the gray of his joggers, the way his legs flexed as he spread them slightly farther apart.
your mouth went dry.
he noticed.
your face burned brighter than ever, your brain scrambling for some rational excuse to back away, but when chan raised an eyebrow at you again, the composure you were grasping at crumbled entirely.
“get on your knees,” he ordered softly.
you were moving before you could think— sinking to the floor, legs folding beneath you as your breaths came out shaky and uneven.
chan wasted no time once you dropped.
“so eager,” he muttered, leaning forward slightly to slip off his sweats. the faint tug of a smirk played on his lips again. “bet you’ve been thinking about this for weeks, huh?”
you swallowed, lips parting slightly as your eyes stayed glued to him.
“let’s see if that mouth is as good as i think it is, then.”
chan spread his legs wider, his joggers now halfway down as his thick cock strained hard under the fabric of his boxers, the outline of it clear enough to make your mouth water.
your eyes tracked the movement as his large hand casually palmed himself through the fabric, letting out a soft grunt as the pressure of his hand teased a bit of relief. he wasn’t even looking at you— his gaze was tilted lazily downward, like he was letting you take in the view. like he wanted you to be as desperate as you clearly were.
“you’re really something, you know,” he muttered, low and taunting, the air between you so tense you could barely breathe. “acting all shy, pretending you’ve been here to study. but this—” his hand rolled against himself once more, squeezing as he finally dragged his eyes back to yours. “this is what you’ve been wanting, huh?”
you couldn’t even think about lying. you just nodded, staying seated on your knees. “...yes.”
that brought another smirk to his lips, one that only deepened as he started to slip his boxers down, letting his cock spring free.
fuck. you’d expected him to be big because, well… of course he was. everything about him was big. his confidence, his presence, his personality. but knowing it and seeing it were two entirely different things.
he was thick, the head a flushed pink and leaking with so much pre that it glistened just faintly in the low kitchen light.
“eyes up here, sweetheart.”
your gaze snapped up immediately, and his mouth twitched again as he caught you.
“if you wanna use that mouth,” he murmured, tone rougher now, “you’re gonna have to ask nicely.”
you weren’t even sure how you were still alive at this point, let alone speaking, but the words stumbled out anyway in a breathless jumble of need.
“please,” you begged, barely above a whisper. “please. i wanna—” your breath hitched as his cock twitched when you said it, making your chest blaze with heat. “i wanna suck your cock, chan. please.”
he tilted his head, watching you closely for a few suffocating seconds before leaning back in his seat and resting one arm lazily along the table.
“go ahead,” he said finally. “show me what you’ve got.”
you didn’t need to be told twice. your hands shot up, tentative at first, but steadying as your fingers curled around the base of his length. the warmth of his skin and the weight of his cock in your hand made you fucking lightheaded.
you gave him a few experimental strokes, and the faint grunt he let out— mild as it was— felt like a goddamn reward.
“that’s it,” he muttered, almost absent-minded, like he was observing you while thinking a million other things at the same time. “don’t be shy now.”
you ducked your head down, tongue darting out to swipe the bead of pre-cum glistening at his tip. just that one tiny taste had your body heating up everywhere at once, floating deliriously between desperation and excitement as you opened your mouth further to glide him in.
he groaned softly as your lips stretched around him, his other hand coming up to rest lightly at the back of your head.
“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening just a little as you took more of him into your mouth. “just like that. good girl.”
the praise hit you like a freight train.
the warm weight of him in your mouth, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue— it was already too much, your thighs instinctively pressing together with each muffled moan and wet sound you made.
“deeper,” chan ordered, his tone growing rougher now, sharper, and that alone was enough to set your skin burning like fire.
you let him guide you down further with the hand still resting on the back of your head, his cock sliding over your tongue until it was stretching your throat enough to make your eyes water.
“that’s it,” he groaned again, his voice raspy now. “fuck, you’ve got such a pretty mouth. keep going- don’t stop until you make me cum.”
his words shot straight through your stomach, sending shockwaves of heat pooling between your legs as you bobbed your head, hollowing out your cheeks until he groaned louder.
“you like that, huh?” he said, his grip tightening as a clear bite sharpened his tone. “look at you. so desperate to please me. so desperate to get your TA to cum down your throat.”
you moaned softly at his words, your sounds muffled and messy as you worked your mouth around him, each stroke sinking deeper and deeper.
“shit,” chan hissed, his hips jerking slightly as his cock filled you again and again. “you’re too fucking good at this.”
you barely registered the filthy compliment over the blood rushing through your ears, your focus narrowed to the ragged sounds leaving his mouth as his composure began to slip.
his grip on your head tightened just slightly, enough to keep you in place as his hips rocked forward once, twice— fucking gently into your mouth like he needed to feel you take him even deeper.
“gonna cum,” he grunted, more ragged now as his movements stuttered. “fuck, sweetheart. take it all.”
before you could even think to react, chan groaned low and deep, his head tipping back as heavy spurts of his release shot down your throat. the taste flooded your mouth immediately, thick and milky ropes as you swallowed everything he gave you without hesitation.
his chest heaved as his hips sank back slightly, his grip finally easing from the back of your head.
“holy shit,” he muttered under his breath, a faint laugh pushing out with his exhale as his hand tipped briefly under your chin, guiding your face back up toward him.
you stared up at him, your lips slightly swollen and humiliatingly wet, and the sight alone pulled another satisfied smirk from his mouth.
“such a good little thing,” he murmured, his thumb brushing briefly across your cheekbone.
you swallowed again, your cheeks heating at the praise, but any words you could’ve said were immediately lost when chan shifted in his chair, suddenly leaning forward.
“you didn’t think we were done, did you?”
your stomach flipped entirely.
his hands moved fast, steady as they guided you to your feet before nudging you gently against the corner of the table. it wasn’t until he’d sunk to his knees in front of you that your brain finally caught up.
“chan—” you started, but the sound broke off entirely as his hands sliced up under the hem of your skirt, pushing the fabric up toward your hips.
“quiet,” he murmured, his lips brushing faintly against your thigh when he lowered his head. “let me show you how much better this can feel when you let me do all the work.”
your knees nearly gave out, your breath hitching sharply in your chest as his hands gripped firmly at your thighs.
before you could even brace yourself, chan had slipped your panties down in one smooth movement, leaving you bare and completely at his mercy.
“fuck,” he muttered softly, almost like he was speaking to himself—his thumb brushing faintly against your inner thigh as his head tipped downward, his lips hovering just over your now impossibly wet cunt. “you’re already dripping for me. pathetic little thing.”
you whimpered as his tongue darted out to taste you, his movements slow, deliberate, clearly reveling in every sound leaving your mouth.
he started soft, dragging lazy circles against you that made heat pulse low in your stomach, but it didn’t take long for him to pick up the pace.
his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking sharply before your knees buckled. he growled against you, his arm curling around the back of your leg to keep you locked firmly into place.
“not going anywhere,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. “gonna make you cum just like this. ruin you on my tongue.”
you moaned, your head falling back as one of your hands flew to grip the edge of the table for balance while the other curled uselessly into his hair. his dark eyes flickered up to you, sharp and direct, and fuck if that wasn’t worse.
“look at you,” he murmured, barely pausing to speak as his tongue sank deeper against you. “you’re so desperate you can’t even stand.”
you whimpered harder as he slid a single digit inside of you, pumping slowly at first before curling— learning exactly where to aim before adding a second and setting you completely on fire.
“fuck- chan, i—”
“that’s right,” he groaned against you, his pace only increasing with each ragged sound leaving your mouth. “cum for me. now.”
and when your orgasm hit— sharp and sudden and impossibly strong— you cried out, your legs nearly shaking from the pressure as chan’s hands steadied you through it, chasing your high relentlessly.
your legs were still trembling, completely jelly when chan pulled back from between your thighs, his lips glistening in a way that should have been absolutely illegal.
he looked sinfully smug as he rose to his full height, towering over you now as you practically slumped against the table. your chest heaved, your body still tingling from the orgasm he’d just ripped out of you, and yet… it wasn’t enough.
you wanted more. needed more.
and chan? chan could see it written all over your face.
“look at this mess,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying a mix of pride and mockery. his hand reached out, the pad of his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. “such a needy little thing. you’re not even satisfied after cumming all over my tongue, are you?”
you shook your head slightly, biting your lip and meeting his eyes with that same look he’d teased you for earlier— desperation. hunger.
his gaze dragged down to where your panties now hung uselessly around your ankle.
“you want me to fuck you that badly, huh?”
you nodded, no hesitation this time— your pride was long gone anyway. “please,” you whispered, your voice small and trembling.
that was all it took.
chan’s demeanor changed into something darker, something more dangerous, as he grabbed your hips and spun you around in one swift movement until your ass pressed against the cold edge of the table. before you could even catch your own breath, his lips were on you. hot, firm, and overwhelming as he kissed you like his life depended on it.
you moaned into his mouth, arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck as he pulled you closer, his body slotting perfectly against yours. his hand slipped up under your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your waist before he yanked it off entirely, tossing it somewhere behind him.
“fuck,” he muttered into your mouth. “you’re so fucking perfect.”
his hands found your tits next, slipping underneath your bra and squeezing hard, groaning as his thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples.
“these fucking tits,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave as his lips moved against your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck. “been dying to get my hands on them. watching you in those tight little tops, tempting me every fucking second.”
you gasped when he suddenly tugged down the cups of your bra and latched his mouth onto one of your nipples, his wet tongue flicking over it before sucking hard.
“fuck, chan,” you moaned, your back arching instinctively into him.
he pulled back just enough to grin up at you, his lips shining with spit. “you like that, baby?” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “needy thing like you just lives for attention, huh?”
you nodded again, words completely failing you as he let his hands slide lower.
without warning, chan hoisted you up onto the table, his strong hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks as he pulled you to the edge. the cool surface pressed against your skin, a direct contrast to the liquid heat pooling between your legs. he yanked you to the edge effortlessly, spreading you out for him like you belonged there.
“stay right there,” he ordered, his lips ghosting over yours briefly before he stepped back to slide his boxers down fully, his cock springing free again and making your stomach twist with anticipation.
“you’ve been begging for this since the first day you showed up to my office hours,” he continued, his voice rough and low as he stroked himself slowly, his gaze locked on you like he wanted to eat you alive. “and now you’re gonna take it. every. fucking. inch.”
you whimpered, squirming on the table, because he was right. the need had been eating you alive, every accidental graze of his hand or brush of his shoulder only fueling the fire until you couldn’t see straight. your breath caught as he grabbed your thighs again, spreading you wide for him, his cock brushing against your entrance.
“fucking dripping,” chan growled under his breath, almost to himself as he dragged the tip through your wetness, spreading it messily. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll fill you up so good, there won’t even be room to think about anyone else.”
before you could process those words, he pushed in.
the stretch was immediate, a maddening burn that teetered on the brink of pain and unbearable pleasure. he was big— so thick, so fucking big it felt like he was splitting you open, inch by inch, pushing so deep your mind went blank.
“oh my godd—” you gasped, throwing your head back as your hands scrambled for leverage, gripping his shoulders like your life depended on it. your thighs trembled as he pressed forward relentlessly, not stopping till his hips were flush against yours and every inch of him was crammed inside you, his cock filling you so completely it felt like he was rearranging you from the inside out.
“god,” chan groaned, his cock pulsing as your walls clenched hard around him like a vice. his head dropped forward, and he growled low in his throat, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, pinning you in place. “you’re so fucking tight. gripping me like you don’t want me to pull out. you’re greedy for it, aren’t you?”
you moaned weakly, unable to form coherent words, too overwhelmed by the way he stretched you, by the way your pussy wouldn’t stop fluttering and sucking him in even deeper. a lewd, wet squelch filled the air as he shifted his hips, pulling out just slightly before easing back in.
“thereee it is,” he growled, his dark eyes watching your face intently as your lips parted with a choked gasp. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip almost gently, “taking me so fucking good, baby. like you were made for me. made to take this cock.”
your nails clawed at his back, leaving angry red trails as he began to move in earnest. he pulled almost all the way out, leaving just the thick head of his cock stretching your entrance, before slamming back in with enough force to send your whole body jolting backward. the table creaked, but chan’s pace never faltered.
“fuck- chan—” you sobbed, each thrust punching the air out of your lungs. your thighs quivered uncontrollably as his cock dragged over every sensitive spot inside you, hitting so deep it felt impossible. shame burned low in your stomach with every wet squelch that escaped from between your legs, echoing obscenely in the room, but he only groaned louder at the sound.
“gonna make you scream, baby,” he rasped, his tone rough and uneven as he pounded harder, faster, his grip on your body so tight it felt like you were fused together. “gonna make sure this pussy remembers me. so tight, fuck. can feel you dripping all over me- you hear that? that’s how fucking bad you want it.”
all ou could do was nod, your brain too fogged with pleasure to string together a response. your body was limp against him, letting him use you how he wanted— and god, it felt so good. you clenched around him on instinct, the raw pressure of him stretching you bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every brutal thrust.
“look at you,” chan muttered filthily, his hand coming up to grip your jaw as he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. “so fucking wrecked already, and i’m not even done yet. you like this? having my cock splitting you open like this?”
“yesyes- fuck, yes—” you babbled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the pressure, the intensity, the sheer, overwhelming fullness.
“that’s my girl,” he growled, shifting his grip to your throat, his fingers tightening just enough to make you gasp. “you’re mine now. you hear me? no one else gets to fuck you like this. no one else gets to make you cum.”
his words unraveled something deep inside you, sending molten heat racing down your spine to your core. when his thumb slipped down between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles against the swollen bundle of nerves, the coil tightening in your belly snapped with brutal force.
“mmpph- chan- ’m gonna- i’m—”
“do it,” he snarled, his cock slamming into you without mercy as his thumb worked faster. “fucking cum all over me. let me feel this pussy milk my cock.”
the words sent you over the edge, your vision going white as your orgasm ripped through you violently. your entire body tensed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, so powerful it felt unending. you cried out his name shamelessly, your walls clamping down around him so tight he cursed loudly, his thrusts becoming erratic.
“shitshiit- fuck- you’re gonna make me—” chan groaned, and a second later he buried himself deep inside you with one final thrust, his hips grinding against yours as he came hard. he filled you with hot, thick spurts of his cum, so much you swore you felt it flooding you completely, dripping from where you were still stretched around him. his head fell to the crook of your neck as he groaned low and broken, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm.
for a moment, the room was filled only with the sound of harsh breathing and your heart pounding in your ears. chan pressed messy, lingering kisses to the damp skin of your shoulder as his hands wandered down your body, soothing the marks his grip had left behind.
“did so good for me,” he eventually, his lips brushing against your temple as he leaned up just enough to press a kiss to your swollen lips. “so fucking perfect.”
+
chan didn’t let you move for a long time after that.
he insisted on cleaning you up himself, holding you gently as if you’d break if he touched you too hard now. it was a stark contrast to the man who had just fucked you into oblivion minutes earlier, but the shift made your heart ache in the best way.
and as he kissed you softly, whispering how beautiful you were, how proud he was of you for taking him so well, you felt something else settle deep in your chest.
this wasn’t just a onetime thing anymore.
not the way chan kissed you like he didn’t want to stop. not the way he held you like you mattered everything to him.
this man wasn’t going anywhere— and you weren’t, either.
it made you laugh, softly, almost deliriously, as he pulled you into his lap again.
“what’s so funny?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.
“nothing,” you murmured, your lips curving upward. “just… funny how i was losing my mind over finding condoms in your bathroom cabinet when... you didn’t even use them.”
chan blinked at you, then snorted with laughter, pulling you tighter against him.
“don’t need them,” he said simply, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his fingers traced lazy patterns against your bare back. “not with you. never with you.”
you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest as you curled into him, completely at peace.
your grades were safe. your heart was safe. and chan?
chan looked at you like no one else in the world would ever come close.
how about Han being your father’s best friends who is an absolute freak for you? (he in his 30s🤭)
wait wait wait- this is actuslly so hot i wanna get on one knee and propose to u personally bc i been thinking ab this a lot TOO >.< so anyways, i’m imagining jisung as like a hot, wealthy businessman like these pics came to mind soon as i read this:
you make it unbearably hard for jisung to resist you. you know you shouldn’t be walking around the house like that— in those tiny little shorts that are barely covering anything, lip gloss sticky and sweet, talking to him like he’s not a grown man who’s known your dad for twenty years. you act so oblivious, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing when you bend over in front of him or “accidentally” moan his name too softly when you say thank you. he’s been good for months, but now your lips are wrapped around his cock in the upstairs bathroom and he’s gripping the edge of the sink, eyes rolled back, chest heaving, trying not to lose it too fast.
“f-fuck, baby- spit on it again,” he pants, watching as you pull off with a wet ‘pop’, letting the drool from your tongue slide onto the flushed head, slowly jerking him off while your knees ache against the cold tile. his tie’s undone, shirt slightly wrinkled, belt clinking softly as you stroke him faster. downstairs, your dad’s calling his name. jisung grabs a fistful of your hair, hips stuttering, and cums down your throat with a choked-off moan, whispering, “don’t swallow, show me baby,”
you tilt your head back, parting your lips, sticking your tongue out with his cum pooling hot and heavy on it, thick and messy just the way he likes. his eyes darken when you stick your finger in and swirl it around, then slowly let it drip off your tongue back onto his still-hard cock. “such a nasty little girl,” he’d mutter under his breath, thumbing your jaw open wider, rubbing it in. your dad’s voice gets closer, footsteps creaking the stairs— but jisung just smirks, tucks himself back in, and wipes the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “be a good girl and fix your lip gloss.”
drabble — chan knows better than breaking the rules you set off for him.
The rule was simple: when Chan was home, work stayed outside the door.
He’d agreed to it weeks ago, all soft smiles and promises while kissing your forehead. But tonight, the rule was being tested.
The bedroom was dark except for the cold, bluish glow of Chan’s laptop screen cutting through the shadows like a guilty secret. The clock on the nightstand glowed 2:17 AM. You woke slowly, the absence of his warmth beside you pulling you from sleep before the low murmur of his voice even registered.
He was sitting at the desk a few feet away, back slightly hunched, wearing nothing but a pair of loose black sweatpants that hung low on his hips. One AirPod was in his ear, and he spoke in that familiar calm, professional tone he used for late-night studio calls.
“…Yeah, the bridge still feels a little empty. Can you play the demo from the second drop again?”
Your eyes narrowed.
He knew the rule. No work at home. Especially not in the middle of the night when he should’ve been wrapped around you in bed.
Quietly, you pushed the covers off and slipped out of bed, the cool air brushing against your bare legs. You were only wearing one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of soft panties. Your footsteps were silent on the wooden floor as you approached him from behind.
Chan didn’t notice you until your hands gently rested on his shoulders.
He tensed instantly.
You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, barely audible, “You’re breaking the rules, baby…”
Before he could respond, you pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck, right over the fluttering pulse beneath his skin. His breath hitched mid-sentence.
“…Sorry, what was that?” he asked the person on the call, voice already a fraction rougher.
You smiled against his warm skin and dragged your lips lower, sucking gently on the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder. Then higher again, teasing, wet kisses that left his skin glistening. When you reached his ear, you caught his earlobe between your teeth and tugged softly, letting your hot breath fan over the damp skin.
Chan’s free hand gripped the edge of the desk tighter.You sank gracefully to your knees between his spread thighs, hidden from view under the wooden desk. Your hands slid up his muscled thighs, feeling the way they flexed under your touch. With careful fingers, you tugged the waistband of his sweatpants down just enough to free him.
He was already half-hard, heavy and warm in your palm. The moment the cool air hit his cock, it twitched, thickening further as you wrapped your fingers around the base.
Chan’s thigh muscle jumped.You started slow, tortuously slow.
First, you pressed soft, lingering kisses along the underside of his shaft, feeling every vein pulse against your lips. Your tongue traced a wet line from base to tip, circling the flushed head before flicking teasingly over the slit, tasting the salty bead of precum already leaking for you
A barely audible exhale escaped him.
You took him into your mouth gradually, lips stretching around his thickness as you sank down inch by inch. The weight of him on your tongue felt intoxicating. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked gently, then pulled back with a slow, wet drag, letting your saliva coat every inch.
“…We might need to lower the BPM by a few ticks,” Chan continued on the call, but his voice had dropped lower, huskier. “Let me hear how the vocals sit on top of that.”
You didn’t give him any mercy.
You began a steady, sinful rhythm, sliding your mouth up and down his cock while your hand stroked what you couldn’t take. Every time he tried to focus, you took him deeper, relaxing your throat until the head bumped against the back of it. A soft, wet gag escaped you, and the vibration made his hips twitch forward involuntarily.
His free hand finally came down, fingers threading into your hair, gripping tight but not forcing you. Just holding on like you were the only thing grounding him.
The call dragged on endlessly.
Discussions about layering, ad-libs, feedback from the company… every minute felt longer as you worked him with filthy, deliberate precision. Your tongue swirled around the sensitive head on every upstroke. You sucked harder when his voice wavered. You moaned quietly around his cock just to feel his fingers tighten painfully in your hair and his abs clench under your other hand.
Chan’s breathing was becoming unsteady. His cock was throbbing heavily now, pulsing against your tongue with every heartbeat. You could taste how close he was, the way he leaked steadily, the way his thighs trembled around your shoulders.
“…Yeah, send me the new files tonight. I’ll… review them first thing— fuck—”
He barely caught the curse, quickly muting himself for a split second as you swallowed around him, throat constricting deliciously.
When he unmuted, his voice was wrecked, strained and rough, “Sorry about that. Signal’s terrible. Let’s wrap this up soon.”
But they didn’t wrap it up quickly.
You kept going, faster, wetter, greedier. The obscene sounds of your mouth working his cock filled the small space under the desk. Soft, wet slurps, quiet gags, and the occasional muffled moan you let out just to torture him more.
Chan’s hips started making tiny, helpless thrusts, barely controlled. His hand in your hair was shaking.
You looked up from between his legs, eyes glossy with tears, lips shiny and stretched wide around his thick cock, and hummed deeply.
That was what broke him. His entire body went rigid. A choked, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came hard, thick ropes of hot cum spilling across your tongue and down your throat. You kept sucking through it, milking every pulse, every spurt, swallowing greedily around his twitching length while he tried—and failed—to keep his voice steady on the dying call.
Only when his cock finally stopped pulsing and his body sagged did you slowly pull off, licking your swollen lips clean with a satisfied little hum.
The second Chan slammed the end-call button, the room fell into heavy silence broken only by his ragged breathing.
He shoved his chair back with a scrape, eyes dark, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his collarbones. His voice came out low, dangerous, and completely wrecked.
A small frown creased his brows. His expression was a mix of disbelief, lingering pleasure, and mild frustration at how easily you’d dismantled his control
You licked your lips slowly, looking up at him through your lashes, voice soft and teasing, “So… are you going to break the rules again, baby?
Chan stared down at you for a long moment, jaw tight, breathing still uneven. The corner of his mouth twitched, torn between scolding you and pulling you into his lap.He let out a low, tired chuckle and shook his head.
࿐ he might not look like he gets bitches, but honey that dick was 11 inches! (MDNI!)
Jisung’s mouth was on yours, hungry and impatient, his fingers already working under your skirt.
You’d been studying together for months — or pretending to, at least. Every Wednesday afternoon, tucked in the farthest corner of the library. He’d arrive late, permed hair messy, and slide into the chair beside you with a sigh that smelled like mint gum. At first, it was just whispered jokes over textbooks, then lingering touches when passing notes. Then last week, his knee pressing between yours under the table until you couldn’t focus on a single word.
then now.
His glasses fogged as he exhaled sharply against your neck, one hand fisting in your hair while the other shoved your panties aside. You bit your lip hard to keep quiet, the thrill of getting caught only making him rougher, his grip tightening as he pushed into you without warning.
His rhythm was relentless, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs in gasps. The way he held you — one hand anchored at the base of your nape, the other gripping your thigh hiked over his hip — left no room to move, not that you’d want to. The drag of him inside you was maddening, the stretch too much every time he bottomed out. His glasses slipped down his nose, and you watched, dazed.
“Fuck, you take me so well,” he murmured, biting at your earlobe. The praise coiled hot in your stomach, tighter with every snap of his pelvis. You could feel the tension building in him too, the way his fingers dug harder into your flesh, his breath coming shorter.
His teeth scraped your earlobe when he shifted his grip, hauling you tighter against him. The angle changed just enough—his next thrust punched a gasp from your throat, and Jisung grinned against your skin,"Yeah, that's it," he breathed, voice roughened by the effort of keeping quiet. His fingers flexed on your thigh, dragging you impossibly closer, the edge of the bookshelf biting into your hip now, but the discomfort barely registered under the slick, relentless friction of him.
You could feel the moment he decided to wreck you — his rhythm stuttered, turned uneven, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. One hand slid from your hair to clamp over your mouth, his other hand tightening on your thigh to hold you still as he fucked into you harder, deeper. "Gonna cum —fuck, cum with me," the words slurred against your neck, and you nodded frantically, clenching around him.
It hit you both at the same time, his hips stuttering against yours, forehead dropping to your shoulder with a drawn out groan. You could feel him pulsing inside you, the wet heat of his release only making the drag of his thrusts slicker, more obscene as he worked you through your own climax, his fingers pressing harder over your mouth when your back arched against the bookshelf.
he slowed down his pace, just a little "one more?" he didn't even give you the chance to answer before resuming his ministrations, the bookshelf rocking precariously behind you.
not that you would've disagreed anyway.
a/n: thanks to my bby sitri for inspiring this hehe
pairing: bf!jisung x fem!reader synopsis: why would jisung ask to fuck your mouth normally when he can find far more exciting ways to catch you off guard? tags/warnings: SMUT!! minors dni, soft(?)dom!jisung, oral (m), non-consensual somatic surprise word count: 944
{a/n} based off this request m.list
"umm, cherry…?" you mumbled uncertainly as soon as he pulled the popsicle out of your mouth. your tongue slipped out to catch the remaining sweetness lingering on your lips.
"mhm, that’s right," you heard his voice murmur from somewhere right in front of you. since your vision was completely blocked, your hearing felt much sharper. you heard the stick drop onto a ceramic plate with a quiet clink and listened to the crinkle of plastic as he opened a new one.
"next one," he whispered. he held your jaw in his hand, using his thumb to catch your lower lip and tug it down. you opened your mouth for him. he pushed the popsicle inside but didn't let you suck on it yet. instead, he rubbed the frozen tip against your tongue, letting the flavor melt there before pulling it back. he closed your mouth and rubbed the wet, saliva-coated tip all over your lips to give them a sticky gloss. finally, he pushed the stick back in to let you take it all.
"guess the flavor, baby," he rasped, pulling the treat away from your mouth entirely this time.
"orange?" you spoke after licking the residue off your lips and swallowing.
"correct. okay, last one," he said.
you waited in the dark, hearing nothing but the sound of your own breathing and the occasional shuffle of his clothes. finally, his voice came again, low and smooth. "open up, baby"
you obeyed by parting your lips ever so lightly. you felt the tip of it touch your mouth, but you froze.
it wasn't cold.
the icy, sharp sting of the previous treats wasn't there. instead, something warm and blunt pressed against your lips. it felt heavy and velvet-soft, carrying the faint, clean scent of his skin rather than the artificial smell of fruit. you let out a muffled, confused sound as the heat of him glided past your teeth, filling your mouth instantly.
jisung’s hands moved up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair to keep you steady. he pushed forward slowly, letting you feel the weight and the sudden, overwhelming pulse of him.
"what’s the matter, baby?" he asked, his voice thick with a dark sort of amusement. "this one should be easy to guess. it’s your favorite flavor, isn’t it?"
he didn't wait for you to answer. he began to move, making his thrusts sloppy on purpose. he dragged them out, pulling back until he was almost gone before pushing back in with a slow, heavy deliberation. each slide of his skin against your tongue felt magnified by the darkness of the blindfold.
the pace was torturous. you tried to breathe through your nose, but the heat of him was all-consuming. as he continued to stretch the movements out, you couldn't help the way your throat tightened. you let out a low, vibrating hum that echoed against him, your saliva beginning to pool and coat his length.
jisung let out a shaky breath, his thumbs pressing into your cheeks to keep your mouth stretched wide. a thick string of drool escaped the corner of your lips and traveled down your chin, but he didn't seem to care. he only leaned in closer, his hips stuttering as he buried himself as deep as you could take him.
a broken whimper escaped your nose when he hit the back of your throat, his movements remaining slow and punishingly thorough.
you reached up blindly, your fingers finding the fabric of his shirt and bunching it in your fists as you tried to pull him even closer. the lack of sight made the feeling of him filling you feel massive, and every time he bottomed out, your toes curled tightly.
"taking me so well," jisung whispered, his voice cracking as he felt you pulse around him. he shifted his grip, moving one hand from your hair to the back of your neck, his thumb resting right under your jaw to tilt your head back at a sharper angle.
he picked up the speed just a fraction, the wet, sliding sounds of his movements filling the quiet room. you were a mess of needy whimpers and soft groans, your face flushed hot beneath the blindfold. every time he pulled back, the cool air hit your wet lips, only for him to plunge back in and bring that overwhelming heat again.
"maybe i should just stay in here forever, huh?" he panted, his hips beginning to snap against your chin with more urgency. "stay buried in that mouth of yours, hm?"
you couldn't even nod. all you could do was wrap your tongue around him and let out a long, desperate moan that vibrated deep in your chest. the sound seemed to undo him. jisung’s breath hitched and he went rigid, his fingers digging into your shoulders as he finally lost his rhythm. he groaned your name, a low and guttural sound, as he hit the back of your throat one last time and stayed there, his entire body shuddering while he spent himself.
finally, he eased back, letting you catch your breath as he reached up to untie the blindfold. the fabric fell away, and your eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light of the room. jisung was looking down at you with a dazed, lopsided smirk, his face flushed and his hair a total mess. he reached out with a gentle thumb to wipe the stray line of drool from your chin, then brought his hand to his own lips to lick it away.
"so," he whispered, his eyes dark and satisfied as they locked onto yours. "wanna continue?"
— dentist!bangchan x fem!reader in which you were just supposed to be here for your oral consultation for the veneers that dr. bang has prescribed. but because you both can't seem to be professional, one thing led to another.
content warnings: this fic includes detailed nsfw scenes that may be too much for some readers. includes penetrative sex, fingering, degrading, size kink, pain infliction, oral fixation, filthy sex, dom!bangchan, hair pulling, size difference, and other scenes that might be uncomfortable for some readers. please consume what you can, and separate fiction from reality. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
a/n: okay so if you guys see this fic being posted, i am being hypnotized and manipulated by @elylyyy into writing this plot and i am not held against all the horniness and filthiness of these scene. don't come at me, please blame her /obv joking.
word count: 1.3k words.
This wasn’t how a dental consultation was supposed to go.
You were never meant to end up bent over the dental chair like this, hands gripping the soft armrests, legs spread wide. The bright overhead light shone down on your bare skin. Your dress was pushed up around your waist, panties pulled down to your ankles.
Dr. Bang stood right behind you, tall and confident. His strong fingers slid deep into your mouth, two of them stretching your lips open. He slowly scissored them apart, rubbing against your tongue and the inside of your cheeks, making everything wet and slippery. You could taste the faint mint from his gloves as he explored every inch of your warm mouth.
At the same time, he was thrusting into you hard from behind. His thick cock pushed deep inside your pussy with every stroke, sliding in and out without mercy. Each thrust made your body jolt forward against the chair. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the quiet room. He gripped your hips tightly with his free hand, pulling you back onto him again and again.
You had come in for a simple consultation about veneers. But Dr. Bang made it impossible to stay professional. He looked like he had been sculpted from smooth marble—tall, handsome, with a body that tempted everyone who walked through his door. His sharp jawline, dark eyes, and confident smile had already made your heart race the moment you sat down.
It started innocently enough. His gloved fingers were inside your mouth during the examination, gently pressing and exploring. But the way he moved them felt anything but innocent. He slowly worked them deeper, rubbing against your tongue and the soft insides of your cheeks. Wet sounds filled the quiet room. Before you could stop yourself, a soft, needy moan slipped out.
Dr. Bang didn’t think it was an accident. He pulled his fingers out for a moment, eyes darkening with desire as he looked down at you.
“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” he murmured, voice low and rough. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed your dress higher up your waist. He had noticed the short dress you chose today—the one that rode up easily, showing off your thighs. You had worn it on purpose, and he knew it.
Now you were bent over the dental chair, legs spread wide, panties dangling from one ankle. Dr. Bang stood behind you, gripping your hips tightly. His thick cock thrust deep into your dripping pussy again and again, abusing your cervix with every powerful stroke. Wet, filthy sounds echoed with each thrust as he fucked you harder.
You moaned around his fingers, the sound muffled and needy. Saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth as he kept scissoring them wider, fucking your mouth with his hand while his cock fucked your dripping pussy. The pleasure built fast and hot, making your legs shake and your breath come in short, desperate gasps.He leaned down closer, his voice low and rough near your ear.
“Open wider for me,” he whispered, pushing his fingers even deeper as he thrust harder.
You obeyed instantly.
He pushed his gloved fingers deeper into your mouth, sliding them all the way until they hit the back of your throat. You gagged instantly, your eyes watering as your throat tightened around them. One of his strong hands roughly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, forcing your back to arch hard. His fingers stayed buried deep in your throat, making you gulp and choke around them while your pussy clamped down tightly around his cock.
Your eyes rolled back from the overwhelming pleasure. Your cunt squeezed him so hard it felt like you were trying to pull him even deeper.
“Fuck—” Dr. Bang groaned, voice thick with lust. He gave your hair another firm tug. “You liked that? Such a whore for a patient you are, hm?”
You could only moan around his fingers in response. Your hips started moving on their own when his thrusts suddenly became shallower, teasing you with just the tip sliding in and out of your soaked entrance. The sudden change made you desperate for more.
“P-please…” you huffed, the words muffled and broken. You began swirling your tongue around his fingers, licking and sucking like you were trying to convince him you could take even more.
Chan groaned deep in his throat. Without warning, he forced a third gloved finger into your mouth, stretching your lips wider and making you feel even more full. You gagged harder around the thick invasion as he pushed them deep.
He leaned forward, pressing his strong chest completely against your back and trapping you between his body and the dental chair. His hips started moving again, this time much more desperate, fast, and deep. He fucked you hard and fast, as if he was trying to force the orgasm out of you.
“Come on,” he growled hotly against your ear, breath heavy. “I know you’ve been wanting to cum. Good patients get candies after their consultation, don’t you know?” He thrust even harder, slamming into you with wet, filthy sounds. “You want candies, yeah?”
You nodded frantically around his fingers, your head bobbing as much as his tight grip on your hair would allow. Desperate, muffled whines spilled from your throat as the pleasure built higher and higher.
Suddenly, your whole body tensed. Your pussy clamped down hard around his thick cock, pulsing and squeezing as you came hard all over him. Hot waves of pleasure crashed through you, making your legs shake uncontrollably. Your juices coated his cock, dripping down your thighs with every deep thrust. You whined loudly around his three fingers, the sound wet and broken, your eyes rolling back again as the orgasm ripped through you.
Chan groaned loudly, feeling your cunt grip him like a vice. But instead of cumming with you, he slowed his thrusts just enough to keep himself from finishing. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, then continued with deep, steady strokes even after your climax started to fade.He didn’t stop.
He kept moving inside you, dragging his thick cock in and out of your sensitive, twitching pussy. Every thrust sent sparks of over stimulation shooting through your body. Your legs trembled harder. Fresh tears pricked your eyes as pleasure mixed with too much sensation, turning into sweet, overwhelming torture.You tried to squirm, but his strong body pinned you down and his fingers stayed buried in your throat, keeping you silent and full. Whimpering and moaning around his fingers, you came again—a smaller, sharper orgasm that made your pussy flutter weakly around him.
Chan’s breathing grew rougher. His hips started snapping faster once more, but he was clearly holding himself back, edging himself while he pushed you further and further.
Finally, when your body was shaking and your mind felt hazy from the nonstop pleasure, he pulled out completely.
With a deep, guttural groan, Chan stroked his slick cock a few times and came hard. Thick ropes of warm cum splattered across the back of your dress, painting the fabric in messy white streaks. Some landed on your exposed ass and dripped slowly down between your cheeks.
He breathed heavily for a moment, still leaning over you. Then, with surprising gentleness, he flipped you onto your back on the dental chair. Your legs fell open weakly as you lay there, breathing hard, your dress bunched up and the back of it now sticky with his cum.
Chan pulled off his gloves and reached for his iPad on the nearby counter. He tapped the screen a few times, opening his schedule. A small, satisfied smirk played on his lips as he looked down at you.
“Well…” he said, voice still a little rough, “I need to schedule another consultation for you next time.” He turned the iPad slightly so you could see the screen. “Clearly, I didn’t inspect your mouth thoroughly enough today. We’ll need a much longer session to make sure everything is properly checked.”
He leaned down closer, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief and promise. “Does next week sound good for you?”
You could only nod in response, even though your mind was still hazy.
you’re broke and you move in with a friend of a friend, changbin, to save money, and he's exactly your type
pairing: roommate!changbin x fem!reader
genre: roommates to lovers, fluff, smut
content: reader is down bad (same), light food play, light temperature play, dry humping, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (p in v), pet names, aftercare, minsung mention (i can't help myself)
word count: 5.9k
a/n: my writing slump is over mwahaha! this one kinda got out of hand but i hope everything makes sense and you all enjoy! ♡
♡ m.list
When you lost your job, the first place you had to cut costs was rent. Which fucking sucked, because you hardly know anyone in the city as it is, and the people you did know didn’t need a roommate.
Enter Changbin. He’s a friend of a friend, clean enough, and is always out of the house. Busy guy, your friend Jisung tells you.
“You want me to live with a guy?” you ask your friend over the phone.
“He’s like a walking green flag, calm down. Nice guy, really. He won’t bother you and he’s loaded so he’ll give you a deal,” Jisung explains over the phone. “And those muscles aren’t half bad to stare at.”
“Are you trying to set me up with your friend?”
“No! I mean, listen, you could use a good lay, but my intentions are pure, I swear!”
You’ve been single for far too long, and Jisung knows that. But the last thing you need is to hook up with the guy who’s supposed to be your new roommate. Whom you don’t even know, by the way.
“I can’t just sleep on yours and Minho’s couch until I find another place?” you ask, hoping to get out of it.
“Absolutely not,” he says sternly. “Changbin is a nice guy, and plus, you wouldn’t want to live here. Minho doesn’t wear pants, like, ever.”
Fine. You’ll take his word for it.
You show up the next day to look at the room. Changbin opens the door and greets you with a smile. Fuck, he’s pretty.
“Uh, hello! You must be Changbin,” you greet him. “It’s nice to meet you, Jisung has told me a lot about you!”
“It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry to hear about your job,” he says. “I’m happy to help if I can.” He steps aside to let you into the apartment.
Jesus Christ, his place is massive. The ceilings have to be at least 15 feet tall, and the massive windows in the living room span the entire wall. It has the most incredible view of the Han River, and you’re almost positive the kitchen counters are 100% marble. And it’s certainly out of your price range.
“The spare room is this way,” he says, motioning down the hallway past the kitchen. He leads you through the apartment, and you catch a glimpse of an office space with a desk covered in music production gear.
The bedroom is huge in comparison to what you’re used to. There’s so much natural light, your houseplants would be in heaven. You could probably fit the entirety of your belongings in this room alone. There’s even a walk-in closet, which you have never, ever had before. It’s great, perfect even, and you’d move in immediately if you could afford it.
“Do you like it?” Changbin asks from the doorway as you’re walking around the room.
You let out a big sigh. “It’s perfect, truly, but it’s definitely out of my price range.” What a shame. A beautiful apartment and a hot roommate? It hurts to walk away from.
“No price,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re in a tight spot, I get it. Don’t even worry about it for the first few months, then you can just pay what you’re comfortable with.”
You stare at him, completely dumbfounded. “I can’t ask you to do that,” you say, shaking your head back at him.
“I’m happy to help. Any friend of Jisung’s is a friend of mine. I mean it, no backpaying needed, let’s just get you on your feet.”
You could kiss him right now, and you just met him. It’s the kindest offer you could ever have dreamed of, especially coming from a complete stranger. You’d normally be wary of something like this, it’s almost too good to be true. But Jisung’s known him for years, and you trust him more than anyone else in the world.
“That’s extremely generous of you, thank you,” you say. “Really, you’re saving me from a much worse fate.”
“It’s no problem, really. I can help you move your stuff, too.”
You almost want to cry tears of joy. Changbin walks you to the door and you say thank you, again, and plan to move in later this week.
The cab hasn’t even pulled away from the building when you call Jisung again.
“I hate you,” you tell him when he picks up the phone.
“What did I do?” he whines.
“You didn’t tell me your friend was hot.”
“I said he had nice muscles!”
You groan into the speaker. You love your friend, but now you’re sure he’s trying to set you up.
“He is, quite literally, exactly my type, Jisung.”
“I’m struggling to find the issue.”
You groan again. “I’m not supposed to want to fuck my roommate,” you say, lowering your voice.
He howls out a laugh. “So you’re taking it, right? His offer?”
“He’s not charging me anything.”
“Yeah, I know. I told you he’s rich.”
It’s still an insane thing to offer a complete stranger. But right now, you’ll take your luck wherever you can get it. Even if that means moving in with a roommate who looks like he’ll get you into a whole lot of trouble.
You moved in two days later, and it was the least stressful move-in day you’ve ever had. Jisung had helped you pack the day before, although he mostly just stood around handing you things to wrap and commenting on your weird trinkets. Changbin had called a truck for you, and also called over Jisung and their friend Chan to help unload it. You didn’t lift a damn finger, but you did buy them a pack of beers to share for the trouble.
“You really don’t have a lot of stuff,” Changbin comments when all of your boxes and furniture are in your room. Most of the furniture in your old apartment was your roommate’s, but it feels weird all laid out in front of you like this.
“Yeah…I don’t even have a bed frame…” You pout, as the two of you stand in the doorway. You survey what you do have, and it’s not much. An old wood dresser you got from a thrift store, your full-size mattress, and a single nightstand you had in college.
You let out a big sigh. You don’t have much unpacking to do, but you’re a bit drained from the stress, and you’d like to at least lie down for a bit.
“Don’t worry about dinner,” Changbin says as he heads out into the hallway. “I can whip something up for us. I’ll leave you to unpack your things.”
He’s been so kind, and it almost distracts you from the fact that you’re living with a stranger. And that you lost your job. That part still sucks. But you can’t lie, he is really nice to look at. There’s nothing wrong with looking.
Forty-five minutes later, Changbin lets you know that dinner is ready. You’ve been able to smell it the entire time packing, and it smells divine. The spread is pork belly, rice, kimchi, and several other side dishes you’re not used to seeing outside of a restaurant. You’re used to living off of ramen, which makes this a five-star meal.
“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you say, taking your seat at the island counter.
He lets out a huff of air through his nose. “Uh, this is just how I eat normally.”
“Oh, right…well, still, thank you.” You almost forgot. He’s rich. And apparently, eats like a king daily.
“You’re welcome.” He sends you a soft smile and joins you at the island counter.
The two of you get to chatting, and you learn a lot about him. He works with Jisung and Chan at his producing studio and is a personal trainer at the gym on the side. He lives alone because, well, he wants to.
You’re unemployed, but he already knows that.
“Sorry for ruining your peaceful atmosphere,” you joke, but there’s a part of you that feels like maybe he said yes because Jisung owed him something.
“No, no, no, it’s okay, really. It’s nice having someone around. It was getting lonely around here. I almost got a dog. And I’m allergic.”
The evening dissolves into laughter, and you get the feeling that this won’t be as strange as you thought.
It takes several days, but you finally get your stuff out of boxes and organize it the way you like it. Your bedspread is hastily thrown over the floor mattress and your clothes don’t even fill half of the giant closet. You feel out of place, but you shake the feeling and try to be grateful.
Overall, living with Changbin is really great. You’re home quite a bit, only really leaving the house to pick up food or going to a job interview. He’s pretty busy, like Jisung told you, but he’s home most evenings.
You’re usually watching some tv show, and he takes a second out of his day to sit down and chat with you. It’s nice to have company, your old roommate wasn’t much of a talker. But with Changbin, it’s easy, and nothing feels forced.
“I can’t believe they’re back together again,” he comments as you’re watching a tv show. He mentioned he was never one for dramas like this, but he’d hover behind the couch when you’d watch it out in the living room, making jokes at the stupid situations the characters got themselves into. It took only a week for him to ask you to restart it from the beginning so he could watch the whole thing. You started looking forward to the evenings after that, waiting for him to get back from the gym for your nightly watch party.
The first moment you realize you maybe, possibly, might have a crush on your roommate is during one evening in the kitchen. You can smell something cooking from your room, and it smells delicious, you can’t help but peek around the corner to see what it is.
Changbin’s at the stovetop cooking, still in his gym outfit, muscles peeking through the fabric. You try not to drool at the sight, quietly walking over to him to see what he’s making. He jumps a bit as he sees you.
“Sorry!” you say apologetically. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, dipping his spoon into the soup he was making. “Can you try this for me? I feel like it needs more salt.”
He takes a couple of steps closer to you, holding his hand under the spoon to catch the drip. You don’t even have a chance to decline before he’s bringing the spoon closer to your face, urging you to take a sip. He blows on it a couple of times to cool it before bringing it to your lips. He’s standing so close, you feel your stomach tie into a knot. You take a sip slowly and carefully, taking note of the flavors.
“No, I think it’s perfect,” you say, licking your lips. You’re probably not just talking about the soup, but he smiles and thanks you for being his taste tester.
You push any and all thoughts of what those lips might feel like against yours to the side. Roommate, you remind yourself.
The second time is when you bump into him in the hallway, he just showered and has a towel wrapped low around his waist.
“Oh, god! I’m so sorry!” Your eyes naturally drift across his torso, still wet from the shower, before realizing you should definitely not be staring. You shield your eyes and move around him.
“Sorry! Not used to living with other people.” He scurries into his room and shuts the door. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, and quickly go back to your bedroom.
You tell yourself it’s just the proximity, that anyone would be feeling this way if they had an attractive roommate parading around half naked. He’s your roommate, you remind yourself. He’s been so kind to you, and he doesn’t deserve the less than respectful stares you’ve been giving him. It’s a temporary situation after all, and it’ll continue to be a good one so long as you don’t cross any lines.
The third time was when it really hit you. You came home from another awful job interview to the sound of tools clanking and something pounding against the floor. Changbin’s room was off to the left of the living room, but the sound was coming from the right. Where your room is.
You set your bag down on the floor and quietly kick off your shoes before rounding the corner. Your bedroom door was propped open, light on, and the banging sounds were coming from in there.
You’re not sure what you expected to find. Maybe Changbin would be patching some drywall you chipped off by accident. Or maybe the screws on your ceiling fan loosened, and he was tightening them for you.
Changbin’s sitting in the middle of a bunch of pieces of wood, holding a screwdriver in his mouth and fumbling with paper. He didn’t even hear you walk into the house.
“Uh…hi?” you say to him, standing in the doorway.
“Oh, hi,” he says, taking the screwdriver from between his teeth and laying the paper to the side.
“Whatcha doin'?”
“Building a bed frame.”
“I see that…why?”
“You didn’t have one.”
“Okay…”
“So I’m building you one.”
“Why?” you question him, one eyebrow raised.
“You’re sleeping on a mattress on the floor,” he says, like the answer is obvious.
“I know, but I could’ve done this myself.”
“I wanted to do something nice for you.”
You feel guilty immediately. You don’t want to be seen as some charity case that someone has to take in and look after, like a burden. “Thank you…I can pay you back for this—”
“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “Think of it as a housewarming gift.” He smiles at you as he turns back to the instructions.
“It’s your apartment…”
“Please just let me do something nice for you.”
“You’re already being nice by letting me stay here!”
He stands up as you say that, walking towards you, still grinning. His hands come up to your shoulders, and he meets your eyes. “I want to do this.”
You gulp. He’s standing so close you can smell his body wash. His gaze is intense, but you can’t look away. You resort to a nod and a small “thank you”, and he turns to continue working on the bed frame.
“At least let me help you—” You cut yourself off this time when he gives you the biggest sigh, and looks at you like you already know what he’s going to say.
You have a crush on your roommate. Your handsome, incredibly fit, incredibly rich, generous, and kind roommate. What could go wrong?
Everything feels different after that.
You find yourself thinking of him all the time, wanting to make sure you’re already home when he gets home, spending as little time in your bedroom as possible just to hang out with him. You swear you feel him doing it, too.
It starts innocently. First, he’s grazing the small of your back when he passes behind you in the kitchen. He bumps into you in the hall and grabs your waist to move past you. Your thighs touch his on the couch, and neither of you moves. Plausible deniability.
Until the air conditioning breaks in the middle of a heat wave. Because, of course it would. Now you’re forced to watch him walk around the apartment shirtless and dripping in sweat. Forced is a strong word. More like, your eyes are blessed every waking hour until this gets fixed. Which doesn’t seem to be any time soon, considering the whole city’s affected by rolling blackouts and HVAC issues.
You’re convinced he was put on this earth just to torture you. It’s impossible, really, to be that attractive and walk around like he doesn’t even know it.
You’re hyper aware of every movement he makes. A drag through his damp hair, him leaning against the counter, muscles flexing. You make every earnest effort not to look, but you can’t help it.
“I’m no better than a man,” you groan, flopping on the bed.
“What’s wrong now?” Jisung asks on the other end of the phone. You had to tell someone, and he’s the one person you feel comfortable enough with who knows you both.
“Changbin. Shirtless. Like all the time. The AC went out.”
“Again, I’m struggling to see the issue. Dude’s hot, I get it.”
“He’s. My. Roommate.” Emphasis on roommate.
“You’re both single, I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He has a point. “I’m sure if he was uncomfortable, he would’ve said something.”
“I want him to crush my head with his biceps.” The heat is irritating you, and you have no filter. Not that you ever do with Jisung.
“Jesus Christ, you hornball,” Jisung laughs on the other line. “Maybe you just need to get it out of your system.”
“What?”
“Put a dick in it!” Minho’s voice rings through the speaker. Of course Jisung told him. You’re not even mad, but you’re caught off guard by the statement.
“What?”
“Minho’s right. There’s so much tension built up, you’re psyching yourself out. If you just…put a dick in it…it might go away!”
“I’m not sure about that.” At this point, you wonder if it’s even about how attractive Changbin is, or if you’re starting to genuinely like him.
“C’mon, you could both use a fun one-night stand. And you wouldn’t even have to leave the apartment!”
“Jisung, he built me a fucking bed frame.”
“Oh.” Yeah, oh. “Ohhhh, I get it. You like him!” You groan at him, again.
“What do I do?” Your hand drags across the side of your face. Hearing Jisung say it out loud makes it real, and now you’re panicking.
“Girl up! Go get your man!”
You don’t even know what he means by that, and you don’t know if you should even try. Jisung’s just being a good friend, supportive of all your delusions. All you know is that it’s fucking hot in here, but if you see Changbin shirtless one more time, you might accidentally pounce on him.
You peek down the hallway to check that the coast is clear before tiptoeing your way to the kitchen to grab a cold glass of water. You bring the glass up to your face, the condensation running down your forehead and cheek, offering a little relief from the heat. It’s not nearly enough to cool you down, though. You place the glass on the island behind you and open the fridge and freezer doors, and just stand there, eyes closed, taking in the cool air.
“Feeling okay?” You hear Changbin’s voice on the other side of the fridge. And you’re standing with your head inside the fridge looking like an idiot.
You whip the door closed and find him leaning just on the other side of it against the wall, still half-clothed, skin shiny from the heat.
“Oh! Yeah, I was just getting some water,” you sputter out. You’re focusing on his face, and the way sweat is dripping from his hairline, doing anything to desperately not let your eyes wander too far south. You’re trying really hard to be respectful.
It’s like he can hear your thoughts. After a few moments of silence, he lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing his hands through his damp hair. His biceps flex, and you force yourself to grab your glass of water and walk into the living room before you combust.
Your thighs stick to the leather cushions as you sit down. It’s fucking miserable in here, the air is choking you every chance it gets. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any harder to breathe, Changbin comes and sits down next to you. He looks at you, brows furrowed, concerned.
Without saying anything, he leans over and places the back of his hand on your forehead. The movement startles you, and the warmth of his hand hitting your damp forehead sends a buzz through your body.
“You’re overheating,” he says simply, before getting up and going to his room. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, staring down the hall in confusion. You can hear him rustling around in his room, and a few minutes later, he comes out with a giant fan in hand.
He walks over to the wall to plug it in and angles it towards where you’re sitting on the couch. “There,” he says proudly. “Sorry, I only have the one.”
“Thank you,” you manage to mumble. The air feels good as it hits your skin, even if it’s a bit warm. He keeps standing there for a second, just watching, making sure it’s working properly before walking back into the kitchen.
You sip your water, flipping through various apps on your phone, trying not to think about the heat or the half-naked man in the kitchen. He walks back a couple of seconds later, two popsicles in hand. He unwraps one and hands it to you, plopping back down on the couch.
You’re trying really, really hard to focus on whatever show Changbin decided to throw on. He leans forward in his seat, absentmindedly licking over the sweet treat, and you can’t help but stare. You catch yourself and tear your eyes away, hoping he didn’t notice.
He leans back to make a comment, his knee brushes against yours, and you feel like you’re going to combust. You don’t dare move, hoping he doesn’t notice your skin touching his. Your eyes keep drifting back to him, no matter how hard you try to stay focused. His shorts are tight against his thighs, and you can see the faint outline of his muscles through them. His stomach and chest are on display, thick and firm. His arms are always out, probably as thick as your entire head, and his lips—
“Do I have something on my face?” he asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Your eyes dart up to his, and he’s looking at you. He definitely just saw you staring. Fuck.
“N-no! No, you’re good.” Nice save. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He finishes his popsicle and throws the stick on the coffee table with the remaining trash.
“You okay?” he asks, voice low and far too casual.
“Yeah, it’s just—hot.” You don’t know if you’re talking about the literal temperature of the room, him, or both.
“It’s melting.” He nods his head towards the abandoned popsicle in your hand. You haven’t even taken a single bite, just letting it melt down your wrist. God, you’re so down bad for him, it’s not even funny anymore.
You snap out of whatever trance you were in previously and look at your hand. “Shit.” You chuckle a bit, and your face grows even warmer from embarrassment.
“Let me help.” He smiles at you, inching even closer. He takes the popsicle from your hand and pulls your arm closer to him. Before you can even register what’s happening, he brings your wrist to his mouth and licks the cold juice off with a slow movement.
“It’s sweet,” he comments. What the fuck. Your eyes are locked with his as he cleans you up with his mouth, moving slowly over your palm, before taking two of your fingers in his mouth and sucking slowly. He’s watching your reaction intently. Your lips part, and your thighs press together on instinct as a heat begins to grow inside your body.
“Thank you…,” your voice trails off. You don’t know whether you should move closer or run back into your room screaming.
“This fans not really cutting it, huh?” He gestures to the hunk of metal in the corner. You shake your head with a laugh, because as hard as it’s trying, it’s doing jack shit to help with the actual temperature of the room.
“Lean forward.” He’s fully turned to face you now, one leg folded between the two of you. He gestures for you to move closer, and you do. “Close your eyes.” Your eyes snap shut, painfully aware of how you didn’t even bother to ask why. Your curiosity is getting the better of you.
He takes the popsicle you didn’t really eat and brings it to your collarbone. The cold sensation against your warm skin makes you gasp, but you keep your eyes closed. He traces a line with the tip of the treat along your collarbone, and you can feel it dripping down your chest. A shiver runs through you, goosebumps raising along your whole body.
“Better?” he whispers. You nod your head, unable to form the words, and he continues to drag the popsicle along your skin, bringing it lower to the swell of your breast. The cold trickle down your skin feels really good in this heat, but there’s a growing ache between your legs you can’t stop thinking about.
The empty stick lands on the coffee table, and your eyes snap open. You’re breathing heavier than is considered normal, and Changbin is inches from your face. His eyes are tracing down your neck, watching the liquid drip down under your tank top.
“Can I?” he asks, leaning closer. Again, you nod your head, watching as he leans in. His mouth meets your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to lap up the mess. You shudder under his touch, and your hands fly up to his shoulders. Everything is hot—his mouth, his skin, your body.
You moan as he works his way between your breasts, throwing your head back. Your brain is foggy, only able to focus on him.
“Is this okay?” he says softly against your skin. The cool air hits the spots he’s licked away, sending tingles through your body. You nod aggressively, squeezing his shoulders to ask for more.
He leans you back against the couch’s armrest, moving a pillow behind you, before he dips back down to lap at your neck. The mess has been mostly cleaned up, but you’re both too worked up to stop.
He’s sucking softly at your skin, and his hands trail under your tank top. You moan under his touch, pulling him closer to you. He props himself up above you, looking you in the eyes. He pauses a moment, as if asking for permission. You give him a slight nod, and he closes the gap, capturing your lips with his.
The kiss is slow, tentative, careful, as if he hadn’t just had his whole tongue on you moments before. Your hands tangle in his hair, and he moans into your mouth when you tug lightly.
It grows heated quickly. Your legs wrap around his body, encouraging him to put his weight on you. His hand moves further up, squeezing your breast. Every movement makes the heat in your belly grow, and you buck your hips up against him, chasing any kind of friction.
“Bin…please,” you whisper. “More...”
Your hands trail down his sides, guiding his hips down to meet yours. He grinds against you, and you feel him through his shorts, thick and hard. You can feel your insides burning, and you’re already wet for him. He swallows your moans and sits up to pull you onto his lap.
Your lips meet again, moving sloppier and faster than before. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you whimper at the feeling. His hands are everywhere—your chest, your ass, your thighs. He’s grabbing and kneading at your skin, sending a buzz through you.
“You made it…so hard not to touch you,” he grunts between kisses. “Walking around…in those shorts…no bra.” The words give you a fluttering feeling. You had sensed the attraction wasn’t one-sided, but hearing him say it out loud brought feelings of relief and excitement.
“Says you,” you say, hands drifting down his chest. “I’ve been fighting for my life since I moved in.”
That earns a chuckle from him. He moves to lift your tank top off and licks away any remnants of popsicle juice that might still be left on your chest. He moves to suck on one of your nipples, holding the other in his hand. He sucks a little harder, and the slight sting has your eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. He gives your other breast the same treatment, and you grind down in his lap to relieve the tension between your legs.
“More?” he asks.
You nod your head. “Yes—fuck, please, God yes.”
He shuffles under you to slide down his shorts and boxers, revealing his thick cock to you. You almost choke on your own spit because, fuck, he’s girthy.
You slide off his lap to discard your shorts and underwear. You climb back in his lap, spit in your palm, and bring it to his length. You stroke him gently, watching him intently as his head falls back against the couch.
“Shit—that feels so good,” he moans. You lean forward to kiss his neck, gently sucking on the sensitive spot there. He moans louder, egging you in, and you move your hand faster.
“You’re so big, Bin.” You nibble at his earlobe and whisper low. “If I’d have known, I would’ve pounced on you a lot sooner.”
“Don’t say that to me right now .” He’s smiling, but there’s a serious undertone in his voice. “Or I’m gonna come.”
And you’d love nothing more. But before you get the chance to increase your pace, he grabs your wrist tight and yanks it away. You don’t even get the chance to protest before he’s dragging his fingers through your folds.
“Oh, fuck!” you cry out as he slips two fingers inside of you. You fall onto his chest, squeezing his shoulders tight. Your head starts to spin as he increases his pace, and you can hear how wet you are.
“You sound so pretty,” he whispers in your ear. “So warm and wet.” He’s still fucking into you at a relentless pace, and the heat in your body is reaching to its peak.
“Bin, fuck, I’m gonna—,” you cry, gripping him for dear life. Just then, he slows his pace down, leaving you whining at your denied orgasm.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” he says. “I want to feel you come around me, if you’ll let me.” You lean back to look at him, his eyes begging you for more. You nod your head quickly and bring him in for a kiss. He kisses you back gently, slowly easing his fingers out. You whine at the loss, but he’s soon moving you into a better position.
You prop yourself up on your knees, keeping your balance on his shoulders, as he lines himself up with your entrance.
“Ready?” he asks, gripping your waist. You reply with a quick “mhm” and take a deep breath.
You lower yourself down slowly as he guides you onto his cock, moaning in unison as the head enters you. The stretch stings a bit, but it feels so good.
“You’re taking me so well,” he says, letting out a deep breath and flashing you a smile. Inch by inch, you take him, feeling him nice and deep inside you. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he helps you rock back and forth.
“S-so big—,” you whine, your forehead falling against his. Your foreheads are still damp from the heat, skin still sticky from a mixture of sweat, popsicle, and spit. “Fuck, Bin—faster.”
Your legs are already shaking at his sides, and he takes over. His hands squeeze your hips hard as he thrusts up into you, fast and rough.
“So fuckin’ tight, baby,” he grunts. The sounds of him smacking against you fill the room. Your cunt is soaked, and you can feel the heat in your belly bubbling back up again.
“Close, close,” you warn him, and your head falls to his shoulder.
He wraps one arm around you tightly and moves his hand to your clit. His fingers make quick but gentle circles around your nub, and you’re seeing stars.
“Oh—fuck! Changbin!” you cry out as the heat boils over, sending shockwaves through your body. Your entire body spasms around him, and you feel yourself leaking around him.
He fucks you through the aftershocks, careful to be gentle and not overstimulate you. But you want him to feel good, too. You need him to.
You brace yourself to take control and ride him in earnest. You’re slamming into his cock, sensitivity be damned. He’s moaning your name through it, holding onto you. You feel him twitch inside of you, and you know that he’s close.
“Come for me, Bin,” you moan in his ear. “Fill me up.”
He breaks seconds later, filling you up with his hot white liquid. You slow your pace until he finishes, and collapse against his chest. You’re both breathing heavily, sweaty bodies pressed together.
“You’re incredible,” he breathes out, rubbing your back.
You sit up straight to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands. “That was…so good…God, you’re so hot.” He smiles at your compliment, kissing you back.
“Let’s get cleaned up.”
He helps you off of him, and you try to keep everything from leaking out of you. He leads you into his bathroom and warms up the water. He cleans you up gently, even helping you wash your hair.
You both dry off and grab some clean pjs from your room before meeting back in the living room.
He plops down on the couch next to you, and his arm reaches around you to pull you close. It’s still hot as fuck in your apartment, but you wouldn’t dare move away. You can’t help but giggle at the situation that’s unfolded.
“What?” he asks, laughing with you even though he’s not sure why.
“Jisung said I needed to get laid,” you chuckle. “He’s going to have a field day when he finds out.”
“He’s one to talk,” Changbin laughs. “He’s been crushing on Minho for years and hasn’t done a thing about it.”
“I know, right? God, he’s so blind that poor boy’s in love with him.”
You spend a good amount of time just cuddling and talking on the couch. It feels really, really nice. You’re not exactly sure what any of it means, but you know you want it to keep going.
“Bin,” you whisper after the conversation comes to a lull.
“Hmm?” he hums.
“This is…nice. I know this living situation is only temporary—”
“Temporary?” he asks, looking at you with a confused expression. “I never said it was temporary.”
“Oh.” You look back at him with the same confusion written on your face. “I just thought you might want your space back.”
He adjusts himself so he’s looking directly at you, and holds both of your hands in his. “You moved into my space, my home, and into my heart. I never want you to leave.”
The confession makes your face grow hot again. You’re giddy and glad that this wasn’t a one-time thing. “Okay,” you manage to squeak out. “I won’t leave.”
He leans forward to kiss you, and a warm, fuzzy feeling washes over you. Home. This feels like home.
“What now?” you ask, leaning back against the couch.
“Hmmm…” He thinks for a moment. “We could break in your new bed frame.”
“Absolutely.”
perhaps a drabble regarding readers obsession w kyos hands... hand kink... perhaps... his hand as a necklace... perhaps she becomes distracted during normal conversation and he notices (friends to lovers🫦)
btw ily
Keeho: Strange thoughts (18+ MDNI)
Pairing: Keeho x reader (besties my fav trope)
Genre: Smut
Warnings: choking, fingering, dirty talk, hand fixation
Word count: 1.4k
Authors notes: I had this request in the back of my mind for a while and I saw that picture he posted and.... just look at his hand nothing more to say (btw ilym)
—
As soon as you settled on the couch and Keeho began his ranting, your gaze locked on his hand movements, long fingers slicing through the air, wrists flicking to emphasize every point.
You weren’t listening, the memory of his latest Instagram post burning behind your eyes. It wasn't the first time you've found something about your friend attractive, obviously. But it was something about how big his hands looked holding the tiny phone, veins standing out against smooth skin, fingers long and slim. Very Attractive. Dangerously so.
Now every gesture made heat simmer low in your stomach. Your mind drifted, wondering about those same hands pinning your wrists, sliding down your body, wrapping firmly around your throat while he—
“Hellooooo....” Keeho’s voice cut through the daydream. “I asked you a question.”
You blinked, cheeks already warming. He tilted his head, a half-smile on his lips.
“Am I yapping too much for you?”
The casual tease snapped you back to reality. You sat up straighter, cringing at yourself. “Sorry. No, you’re not. I just… zoned out. I’m sorry, Keeho.”
He laughed softly and reached out, pressing two fingers lightly against your forehead to playfully push it back. The brief contact sent electricity racing across your skin. “What’s going on in there? You’ve been weird since you walked in.”
Your face burned hotter. “Nothing in particular.”
His eyes narrowed, suspicion turning more serious. He knew you far too well. “Come on, you’re not paying attention, you won’t look me in the eye, and your face is really red.” Genuine concern peaked through beneath the teasing and he paused. “Is there something you’re scared to tell me?”
The way he read you so easily after years of friendship was both wholesome and incredibly annoying. An awkward laugh bubbled out of you. “It’s… a bit strange.”
Keeho raised an eyebrow, his signature smirk returning. “Since when have you been scared of telling me your strange thoughts? Come on.”
You looked down, a tiny smile tugging at your lips despite the embarrassment. Your gaze dropped further—straight to his hands now resting in his lap.
Big hands, prominent veins, fingers long and slim, pink knuckles. Very fucking Attractive. You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.
Before you could stop yourself, you reached one curious finger out to brush along the back of his hand, tracing a vein there. Keeho went still, his eyes focusing on your face while yours remained fixed on his hand, watching the way his fingers twitched once under your touch.
“You have pretty hands,” you whispered.
He didn't say or do anything for a moment. Then, he turned his palm up and slowly wrapped his long fingers around yours. You finally looked up and your face flushed deeper at the way he was looking at you, more intense and heated than he ever had. You yanked your hand back with a nervous swallow.
“Sorry—”
He shook his head, voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s okay.”
Keeho leaned closer, resting his hand on your knee. “What do you like about them?”
The question caught you off guard. “I… I don’t know."
His hand smoothed higher up your thigh, grip tightening just enough to make your heart lurch forward. “You do. Come on. Use your words for me.”
Your eyes slipped shut at the command in his voice, at the way his fingers pressed into your leg with perfect pressure.
“Eyes on me.”
They snapped open, his stare pinning you in place.
“Tell me,” he murmured.
“Kyo…” His name left you in a panted whimper.
That seemed to unravel the last of his restraint. He lifted his hand to your chin, gripping it firmly as his thumb brushed across your lower lip. You parted them for him without question.
He fixated on your mouth as he slowly pushed his thumb past your lips, pressing it against your tongue as your lips closed around it instinctively.
He smirked, eyes half-lidded as you circled your tongue around the skin, sucking gently, tasting the faint salt of his skin. Keeho’s teeth sank into his own lower lip, breath growing heavier at the sight of his best friend giving in so easily to his desires— or was he giving in to yours?
After a moment he withdrew his thumb, using the spit-slick pad to rub slowly across your bottom lip.
Then he slid two fingers in, just to test your willingness. And willing you were.
Your lips stretched around his fingers, cheeks hollowing as you sucked. A thin string of saliva glistened at the corner of your mouth when he pushed deeper until his palm brushed your chin.
Your tongue rolled between his fingers, tasting him so earnestly, eyes locked on his while heat pooled between your legs. He looked like he was just about ready to devour you.
When he finally pulled them free, you felt dazed, embarrassed by how eagerly you’d done the action. But Keeho was only smiling—happy, fond, and undeniably hungry for more.
He slid his hand to your waist and pulled you toward him. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Then another, slower. On the third pass his hand traveled upward, fingers wrapping around your throat and squeezing just enough to make you gasp. He used the hold to guide your mouth to his.
The moment your lips met, you were done for. When your tongues touched, he tightened his grip further and the kiss turned deep, messy, and more perfect than anything you could've expected.
He bit your lower lip, tugged it back, then soothed the sting with a gentle peck. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and crawled into his lap, needing to be closer. His arms banded around your back with a breathless laugh that decorated your skin with goosebumps.
You dove back in, kissing him harder.
“What are we doing?” he mumbled against your mouth, his smile pressing against your lips.
“I don’t know,” you whispered, “but let’s not stop.”
He held your body flush against his before gently turning you in his lap so that your back was pressed against his chest.
He kissed the side of your neck as he moved your legs to curl outside each of his, spreading you wide for him.
He slid his hand to the button of your jeans and popped it open with ease before slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear.
The moment his fingertips met your soaked folds, you arched against him with a borderline needy whine.
“Fuck… all this for me?” he breathed, running his fingers through your slick. He teased your entrance, circling slowly until you were panting, hips twitching on his lap. Finally, he pushed one finger inside.
You writhed beneath him as he curled it perfectly, stroking that sensitive spot inside you while his thumb found your clit. When your back arched further away from him, his other hand wrapped back around your neck to hold you still, encompassing your throat completely. The dual sensation of his fingers deep inside you and his hand claiming your throat made your head spin with overwhelming pleasure.
He added a second finger, scissoring you open and curling both up against your g-spot. Wet squelches filled the room each time his fingers fucked into your soaked cunt and he moaned appreciatively against your ear. He kept the rhythm steady to draw out every possible sound he could from you.
“Can take m-more Kyo...” you breathed out, hips circling around his hand.
“You want another finger?” he whispered, voice rough with arousal as you nodded eagerly. “Mhm. Want me to stretch your pretty pussy open huh? Want me to fill you up?”
Your head fell back against his shoulder when he slipped in the third, all three buried deep inside you. "S-so full..." you reached down to hold his wrist, needing the connection desperately.
"Shit, that's it. Swallowing my fingers like a good fucking girl. God you're so tight, clenching so hard around me. Gonna cum already? Gonna soak my fingers?"
He continued working you open, fingers stroking that perfect spot again and again until the pleasure in your belly built and snapped in rapid succession.
Your orgasm crashed over you hard—thighs trembling, walls clenching around his fingers, his name falling from your lips in a desperate cry as pleasure flooded every nerve. He tightened his hold on your throat as you rode it out, not stopping until you were boneless beneath him, breathing hard, aftershocks still rippling through you.
Only then did he ease his fingers out, turning your head on his shoulder so you could watch as he brought them to his mouth to taste you with a low, satisfied hum.
His grip on your throat relaxed to just rest there as he turned to kiss you slow and deep.
You were still catching your breath when he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes soft despite the heat still burning in them.
“Please,” he murmured, thumb brushing your skin. “Never hide your strange thoughts from me.”
summary: you show up at sion’s place in the middle of the night, and he lets you
w/c: 3.6k
a/n: this is my first time writing a more detailed smut scene so apologies if it’s a little rushed 🙏🏽for whatever reason I finished writing this the moment I woke up today (5am). not edited!
disclaimer: pwp, minors dni, explicit content, afab reader, unprotected sex (remember to always practice safe sex and get tested regularly), mentions of drinking
smut warnings: oral fem receiving, fingering fem receiving, vaginal penetration, pet name (baby)
If someone asked you what your favorite pastime was right about now, you’d say biting on Oh Sion’s lips. Or maybe dry humping Oh Sion. Scratch that—tugging on Oh Sion’s hair.
The groan Sion lets out against your lips immediately dampens between your legs, where you need him most.
“You smell good,” Sion purrs from below you on the couch.
“Thanks, new perfume,” you take the chance to pull at the hem of his shirt.
“Hold on, let’s move to the bed,”
Oh right. You arrived in Sion’s apartment maybe 10 minutes ago. He had barely managed to tell you his roommates were out before you practically tackled him to his couch. Sion had let you climb over him, his long figure draped across the sofa while you caged him in with your thighs. He was trying to ask how your night out with your friends had gone before you started grinding your hips into his.
“Good, but I missed you,”
You wouldn’t usually be so bold with him. The two of you weren’t dating after all. It was a friends with benefits situation that had started about a year ago when you hooked up at a mutual friend’s birthday party. You weren’t even the type to start such a relationship, but the way he fucked you that night haunted you for a good week before you folded again.
You were at work, wondering if you should ask your friend for his number when you got a notification on your phone. o.cean.02 has requested to follow you. Took about two minutes of scrolling through his following to figure out it was Sion’s account. Another two to accept and send the first message. Then one more for his reply to come.
: what in the world is wrong w ur username
[sion]: wait what’s wrong with my username?
: ocean02 ?? thought u were some rando tryna stalk me
[sion]: it’s my name!! oh sion = ocean
[sion]: not a rando just someone who’s been thinking about you a lot
By that weekend, you two had agreed on a purely sexual relationship to blow steam off from the stress of daily work and responsibilities. It wasn’t exclusive, but you never did stray far from him. You’d go two months without talking but the moment he’d hit you up with a cheesy line about missing your sweet pussy—as he liked to call it—you’d end up with tangled limbs by the end of the night. So here you are, roughly one year later, still showing up at his door and letting him stuff his tongue down your throat.
Now, he’s got you underneath him, his hips controlling the pace at which he pushes his clothed cock to your bunched up jeans. The soft sheets below you are much more comfortable than the old couch. Though, the bed is a lot more creaky. Even as you grind up into Sion, the mattress squeaks.
“That feels good,” you can’t help the words the slip from your mouth.
“Haven’t even touched you properly,” Sion’s cocky grin somehow looks endearing from this angle. Or maybe it’s just the way his eyes twinkle.
“Get on with it then,” you tsk at him.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,”
He moves onto his knees to tear his shirt off. You follow his lead. Removing clothes that were only in the way of feeling him fully. Sion’s shoving his sweatpants and boxers down in one smooth motion as you flick your socks somewhere onto his floor.
“Alright, baby, which one do you want first: my fingers or my tongue?” He’s pumping his cock with one hand as he settles between your thighs.
You can’t remember at what point he started calling you his baby. Maybe it was a month ago, maybe it was from the start. What’s worse—you can’t remember at what point you started looking forward to the stupid pet name.
“Don’t care, as long as you give it to me now,”
You were buzzed when you texted him earlier in the night. Something about how much you missed him buried inside you. Sion immediately ordered you to drink some water. You sent him a stupid selfie glaring at the camera as you held up a glass of water to your lips. Once you had promised you were sober enough, Sion ordered an Uber to pick you up. The entire ride to his place you kept texting how badly you wanted him.
[sion]: are there any waters in your uber??
: i didn’t even drink that much pls 😖
: is it so hard to believe I miss coming on your tongue
“You really are needy tonight,”
“Are you not fully hard right now?” You try to glare at him but it dissolves just as quick the moment his entire head dips to taste you.
Your hands tangle back into his hair as his tongue traces around your folds. He’s got the nerve to tease, kitten licking your clit with slow, long movements. You pull on his dark strands but Sion doesn’t speed up. He groans, pressing a featherlight kiss on your sensitive bud. Then, he opens his mouth and starts kissing right up against it. It’s too much teeth, messy and desperate. He makes out with your lips, tongue gliding and mouth sucking.
“Fingers,” you gasp, “Use your fingers,”
Sion’s eyes flicker up to you. It nearly drives you over the edge with how glassy they look. He’s so focused and tuned into your pleasure. Yet, he’s letting your pussy squeeze around nothing.
“Sion, please.”
The moment your voice breaks is the moment you feel Sion’s long fingers prod at your entrance. You whine high pitched and carefree. Still, he only massages your lips, spreading your arousal. Another tug of his hair, another groan against your clit, another whine from your lips. Sion teases and teases, only dipping one finger into your hole for brief moments. He doesn’t give you what you need, and you think you might cry if this goes on for any longer.
Sion, as locked in as ever, quickly notices and pulls his mouth off you.
“Baby, are you really sober now?”
“Sion—I was hardly tipsy when I texted you. I promise you I’m fully sober and fully in need of your fingers right now,” A daring tear escapes you, and Sion positions himself so he’s fully on top of you, caging your body with his.
He wipes at your cheeks and kisses the streak away. You aren’t sure what to think about how soft it all seems. So, you close your eyes. The moment you do, Sion’s fingers sneak into you.
“Fuck,”
He’s curling them so deliberately, it makes something in you gasp. With his fingers pumping in and out, angled to hit all the right spots, Sion brings his lips back onto yours and doesn’t let up on his ministrations. He fucks you with his fingers like that. His lips eventually go to your neck, trailing kisses as he goes. Usually, you wouldn’t let him mark you so brazenly. The marks get tedious and annoying to hide. Usually, you’d smack him for lingering too long in one spot and he’d smile saying he “forgot”. Even though he’s been “forgetting” for over a year now.
But something about the way the pads of his fingers stroke inside you—or maybe it’s the way you can hear how unsteady his breathing has become—shuts down any thoughts of getting him to stop. Sion finds that sweet spot on your neck that makes your toes curl. Even as he feels you get close, he doesn’t let up on the firm pumping of his fingers.
“Let go for me, baby,” his voice comes out rough and you do.
You focus on how good he feels inside your gummy walls and the way he sucks at your collarbone now. Your hands (one still tangled in his hair, the other breaking skin at his shoulder blade), grip so tight you’re sure it hurts him. But Sion doesn’t complain. Sion helps you through it. You finish on his fingers with a loud whine and the entire time Sion holds you like you’re precious.
“You’re so fucking tight around my fingers,” it’s hardly intelligible with how rough the corners of his voice sound.
You realize another tear has run down your face and you turn your head to hide it. Your eyes flutter as you blink away the blurriness of it all. It hasn’t been that long since you’ve fucked, so why does it feel so different now? A year now of fooling around and letting Sion stay the night because he promises he’ll wake you up with head. How long ago was it that you started keeping around his body wash in your bathroom? He’s so horrible at cooking and he laughs at everything. Sion’s always been a good fuck, since when did you start noticing anything beyond that mere fact?
“Good?” Sion’s voice cuts through your thoughts, his fingers now gone from you.
“Yeah,” it’s too quick, though.
So, you move the hand on his back to his dick. You know Sion wants to ask you if something’s wrong, but you make sure the swipe of your thumb over his slit shuts him up.
“Condom?” You ask as you pump him with one hand.
Sion begrudgingly removes himself from your grasp and crawls to his nightstand. You lazily play with your clit while he digs for the box of condoms you know he’s got hidden away. You let out a deep sigh with a particularly good rub and Sion’s head snaps over to you.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he almost sounds annoyed, quickly ripping the box open and digging for a foil.
He frowns though, fingers stilling for a second. It makes you halt your movements and sit up slightly to watch. Sion flips the box to shake the contents out. Except, nothing falls out even as he flips the box back over and peers inside.
“It’s empty,” Sion sounds so defeated you almost laugh.
“What about the gas station?” You think of the convenience store your uber passed on the way over to Sion’s apartment.
“They don’t have my brand,” Sion actually juts his bottom lip out, looking like someone just stole his candy.
“Is there a difference?” You frown because it can’t really feel that different.
“Baby, these are the real feel, non-latex, lubricated, extra large ones,” Sion quips back.
You don’t bother to hide your laugh from him. He looks so offended you almost feel bad for a second.
“If I get anything smaller, it’ll slip right off,” he defends himself, “Might as well not wear anything if I get the gas station ones,”
Something twists inside you, something sinister and dark. You can’t help what you say next.
“Then don’t wear anything,”
Sion freezes. Like, full on stops breathing all together. He’s still perched above you, one hand steadying himself while the other grips the empty cardboard box.
“Serious?” His eyes flicker between you and his dick like either might protest.
“I mean, yeah,” you shrug, “Just, you know . . . “
“Pull out?” Sion’s eyes are impossibly wide, convinced you’ll disappear if he blinks.
You nod bashfully. That’s all the confirmation he needs, apparently. He quickly finds his previous position, towering over you. Your heart pounds in your chest as Sion lines himself up with your entrance. Your fingers twitch in anticipation at it.
“Oh, fuck,” Sion’s eyes are screwed tight as he finally pushes in.
So, there’s definitely a difference.
“This sweet pussy’s sucking me right in,”
You feel your eyes roll back to your head, eyelids fluttering. You feel so full. Every vein, every ridge—your cunt takes all of it. It’s never felt like this. A moan is falling from your lips before you can even tell it’s you. You think you might just cry again from how good Sion feels inside you. You must say something because Sion shushes you, telling you to breathe. Except the bastard kisses you right then and steals all the air from your lungs. You reciprocate as best as you can with your brain in total shambles. Your hands are gripping tightly onto his arms, begging for more.
“Are you fucking other guys?” Sion suddenly pulls away from your lips.
“You’re asking that now?”
You aren’t even sure how you manage to make the full sentence. Sion is completely still inside you, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. Or maybe giving himself time to adjust. He’s sweating. Like, a lot. You’ve never seen him this worked up just from entering you. You watch as beadlets drip down the slope of his nose and plop onto your cheek. You don’t expect your stomach to do another flip at that.
“Fuck—just wondering if I should get tested after this,”
What an idiot. You’re laying on Sion’s bed at god knows what hour of the night wondering how to keep Sion’s sweat dripping on you. He must be insane if he thinks you’re fucking other people. No—he’s out right clinically ill if he thinks you’d ever let anyone but him have you like this. You can feel how hot he is. His blood pumps so loud you hear it. The way his cock curves just slightly upward tickles all the right parts inside you. He’s so thick and all of him is buried deep. Something settles under your skin.
“It’s just you,”
You mutter it on his lips, claiming them. As soon as you do, Sion drives his hips backward. He lets out a nasty groan the moment it’s just his head tucked into you. You clench, and he pushes back in. The feeling is otherworldly. Your juices mix, his tip leaking and your pussy dripping, arousal becoming indistinguishable.
“Same for me—it’s only you, baby. Always was,”
Sion’s hands find yours in that moment. Either hand pinning yours right next to your head. He grips them like his life depends on it. Your heart does a traitorous thing.
Sion fucks you hard and fast. It makes you squeak and staccato’s your breath. You hear the wet clap with every movement of his hips, his balls slapping against your ass. Sion’s forehead is pressed right against yours, just steadying himself and locked into your pleasure.
“I’m not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that,”
“‘s okay,” You snake one hand between your thighs to rub at your clit.
You feel the way it makes you squeeze around him. Sion does, too, because he whimpers. You want to hear it again. You massage in time with one of his thrusts and it happens once more. The pinch of Sion’s eyebrows drives you insane.
Suddenly, Sion is pulling out of you and climbing off the bed. You’re about to ask what he’s doing before he grabs you by the ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. You squeak as his hands land firmly on your thighs.
“You look so good like this,” his hands softly push your thighs apart and grip tight. His hands knead the flesh so tenderly. You groan, hoping he leaves bruises.
Stepping closer, he uses one hand to guide his leaking cock up against your folds. He doesn’t push in, though. He just trails his length up and down, letting the head catch on your clit with every upward motion. You let out a swear when he taps the head against your clit. The action is so dirty and possessive. His figure, standing in his room lit only by the mood lighting. Soft purple cascading over the crevices and dips of Sion’s torso. Sion’s eyes are locked on the way your pussy absolutely drips for him.
“Such a pretty pussy,” you almost don’t catch what he says, “All mine,”
In another possessive movement, he rubs circles with his tip right against your clit. The feeling sends a jolt through your body, your back arching with it.
“Sion, please, need you inside,”
“So needy,” his voice is so low and tight, “Coming to my apartment in the middle of the night begging me to fuck you raw,”
You might even let him finish inside if he keeps talking to you like that. The thought sends another jolt of electricity down your spine.
“So fucking breathtaking, baby,”
Finally, Sion pushes in. You groan at the new angle. His hands grip your thighs tightly, half holding you, half steadying himself, fully controlling the pace at which he buries his cock into you. It’s deep, steady. He’s immediately hitting your gummy spot and making you gasp. Your ankles wrap around his waist and dig into the dip of his back.
“Greedy fucking pussy,” His pace never falters, the sound of skin slapping skin persistent, “Squeezing around me so tight,”
“Sion,” your hands scramble to his. Sion immediately notices and interlocks your fingers such that your legs are poised above your connected arms.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Inside—come inside, need it,” you’re mumbling, “Need you,”
Sion doesn’t let up on the steady rhythm. He swears, brows furrowing for a second in contemplation.
“Y-You sure?” It comes out strained.
“Please,”
You know how desperate you have to sound, but you can’t help it. Sion looks at you like you built the earth he walks on. He worships you, constantly tries to understand you, and actually listens. He’s everything you could ever wish for, and you hate the idea of anyone else having him like this. Even if you two are only meant to be casual.
“Fuck,”
Sion swears again as you time your squeezes with his thrusts. It feels so good, his cock stroking into you as you grip tight around him. You can feel yourself getting close, too. All it takes is a few more clenches before you feel your orgasm wash over you. It’s not long before Sion is twitching inside you. The rhythmic pounding of your cunt around his cock enough to drive him over the edge. Your eyes immediately lock onto Sion’s as he starts dumping inside you. His eyes haze over and his mouth just barely parts. The groans that fall from his lips are addicting. The squelch of his cock pounding into you is so filthy.
You let a closed mouthed moan out as you spread your thighs further apart. Sion lets you disconnect your hands as you examine between your legs. A white ring has formed against the base of Sion’s cock. His thrusts have slowed now, and you can see the cum that trails down his length every time he pulls out. Sion eventually stills completely as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm.
With him inside you, he leans down to press a lazy kiss against your lips. He tugs and sucks with no care in the world. Your hands bury themselves back in his hair just like earlier. It doesn’t feel very casual when the deep kisses turn to soft pecks.
“You should miss me more often,”
You smile against his lips and Sion takes the opportunity to slip out. You take a deep breath with the loss and bring a hand to brush hair out of Sion’s eyes.
“Let me grab a towel,” he presses one last peck before standing and making his way to the bathroom.
You think you thank him when he comes back and wipes at your entrance. The warm towel soothes your pounding heart. You get up on your elbows.
“Should probably pee,” you mutter and Sion helps you all the way up.
“Probably,” he smiles as he leads you to his bathroom.
When you reach it, you don’t hesitate to plop yourself down on the toilet. Sion, in the meantime, runs back to his room to grab his clothes for you to wear. He neatly sets them down before turning the knob to get the shower running. It’s then that you notice Sion has become a bit reserved. You’ve never known Sion to be shy. A bit introverted at times, sure. But never like this. As he peers from above, leaning against the wall, arms crossed uncharacteristically, you can’t help but watch him.
“What?” You ask, trying not to stare at his still naked form.
Sion shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, “Just thinking.”
“Okay,” you draw out the word as you go to wipe.
“You’re not seeing anyone else. Neither am I, and I don’t really want to,” his voice actually cracks at what he says next, “Would you wanna go on a date?”
You’ve finished your business on the toilet, but standing feels scary right now.
“A date?”
“Yeah, like, just the two of us,” Suddenly, Sion is really interested in the water temperature, “I know we started sleeping together as something casual, but I, uh, I really like you. And I want to get to know you better,”
You can’t help but narrow your eyes at him, “All it took was letting you finish inside?”
“What? No!” Sion visibly panics, “I mean—it was good, like insanely good, but that’s not why I’m saying it. Really. I wanted to ask sooner. I was gonna ask once you got here, but, um—“
“I kinda jumped you,” you can’t help but laugh at yourself.
The sight of the smile spreading across your lips finally calms Sion down. He’s still trying and failing at being nonchalant.
“You kinda did,” he’s pursing his lips to keep from smiling wide, but the corners of his mouth pull up anyway.
“I’m down for a date,” you don’t hide your excitement, “I like you, too,”
“Cool,” Sion’s is full-on grinning now, “The water’s warm now,”
“Is it now?”
He helps you up once again. You can’t help the flip of your stomach when one of his hands lands on your hip, the other resting on your jaw. Sion only hums an ‘음’ at you before pulling you in close to kiss you. His lips feel so warm and soft against yours. He doesn’t rush, he doesn’t deepen the kiss. Sion just holds you like that.
“C’mon the water’s gonna get cold again,” you pull away, remembering the sticky situation between your legs.
“Just one more,” Sion doesn’t let you go after that.
have you guys ever imagines how it would be if chan has a mommy gf? it has been boogling in my mind for the the longest time and i just had the most mind-blowing conversation with @pineapple-burgah and @ylstacy in the discord server, and here i am writing what might be a small continuous series in my timeline. god, i love this idea so so much.
HEY— this is an 18+ post! please proceed with viewer's discretion as this contains graphic smut themes not suitable for some readers. MDNI!!!!
Contrary to popular belief, Chan wasn’t secretly pining for some sweet, wide-eyed younger girl. The truth was far deeper and far more addictive: he was utterly, helplessly in love with his older girlfriend—you.
As the eldest in his group, Chan had always been the soul nurturer, the one who carried everyone with quiet strength, endless patience, and unwavering care. He gave and gave until there was almost nothing left for himself.
Then he met you.
Everything changed the moment you stepped into his life. You were nothing like the soft, needy girls he once imagined dating. You didn’t ask for his attention or his care , instead, you gave it so generously, so confidently, that he found himself craving every second of it.
Not only did you nourish him in the most intimate ways. Pinning him beneath you at night, riding him slow and deep while your experienced hands explored every inch of his body, whispering filthy praises as he moaned and trembled beneath you, but you also took care of his boys without hesitation.
You woke up early every morning to prepare hearty meals the eight of them could share, your movements graceful and assured in the kitchen. You checked on them constantly, asking if they had rested enough, scolding them gently but firmly when they pushed themselves too hard. With warmth and quiet authority, you nurtured every single one of them with genuine love and care.
And that, watching you love his members as fiercely as you loved him made Chan fall for you even deeper. Every time he saw you caring for them, something hot and possessive stirred inside him. At night, that same possessiveness would explode as he buried himself between your thighs, desperate to repay every ounce of love you gave, losing himself completely in the wet heat of your body while you took control and reminded him exactly who he belonged to.
Just like right now.
The week had been brutal. Practice after practice left his muscles aching and his voice raw. The endless hours spent perfecting tracks in the studio had drained every last drop of his energy. When he finally pushed open the door to your shared apartment, all he wanted was you.
The moment he stepped inside, your hands were already on him, warm, sure, and possessive. You pulled him close without a word, lips brushing against his neck as you guided him straight to the bedroom. Clothes were shed in a heated rush, and soon he was sprawled naked on the bed, chest heaving, while you knelt between his spread thighs.
Your fingers wrapped around his cock with perfect pressure, stroking him in that maddening rhythm, not too fast, not too slow, just enough to make his hips buck helplessly off the mattress. Every slow drag of your palm over his throbbing length sent sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. Precum leaked steadily from the tip, slicking your hand and making each glide wetter, filthier. Chan’s head fell back against the pillows, a broken moan escaping his lips as you twisted your wrist just right at the head, thumb pressing teasingly against the sensitive underside.
“That’s it, baby,” you murmured, voice low and sultry. “Let me take care of you tonight. You’ve been so good for everyone else… now it’s my turn to make you feel good.”
He was already trembling, thighs shaking around you, completely surrendered to the expert rhythm of your hand. After the long, exhausting week, this—your touch, your heat, your control—was exactly the deep, aching satisfaction he had been craving.
It didn’t take long.
The stress of the entire week had left him wound so tightly that your expert touch quickly pushed him right to the edge. His groans turned into broken moans, growing louder and more shameless with every stroke. His thighs trembled violently around you as pleasure coiled unbearably tight in his core.
“Y/N—” he gasped, voice strained and wrecked.
His whole body suddenly tensed, then shuddered hard. Back arching off the bed, knuckles turning white as he gripped the sheets desperately, Chan came with a deep, guttural moan. Thick ropes of cum spilled hot and messy over your hand, pulsing again and again as you kept stroking him through every wave of his release, milking every last drop from his throbbing cock while his body twitched and shook uncontrollably beneath you.
With his chest still rising and falling in ragged breaths, a wide, satisfied grin spread across his flushed face. His eyes were hazy, dark with lingering pleasure, yet you could see the sharp awareness still burning behind them. He looked up at you like you were the only thing in his world.
“So…” he murmured, voice low and husky, still slightly breathless, “what do you think about doing the same thing with the boys?”
He licked his lips slowly, the grin turning just a little wicked as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your thigh.
“You know… freeing them of all that stress the same way. You’re so fucking good at it, baby. I know they’d appreciate it very much. They’re just as exhausted as I was… and I can’t stop thinking about how good your hands would look wrapped around them too.”
You chuckled softly at his bold silliness, the sound warm and affectionate. You reached down, gently pulling his hand to your lips and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his knuckles.
“Maybe,” you teased, voice low and sultry, eyes sparkling with amusement and something far more wicked. “Who are we gonna start with?”
The moment the words left your mouth, Chan’s grin widened, eyes lighting up with pure excitement. His mind was already racing, already planning every delicious detail of how this would unfold. He could picture it so clearly, his members sprawled out, tense and needy, while your skilled hands and confident touch worked them over one by one, their moans filling the room as he watched. The thought alone sent a fresh spark of heat straight to his spent cock, making it twitch with renewed interest.
He pulled you closer, voice dropping into a eager whisper against your ear.
“Fuck… let’s start with Felix first. He’s been the most wrecked lately. I want to see how pretty he looks falling apart under your touch… while I watch every second of it.”
SHARING IS CARING... OR WHATEVER : featuring lee minho & christopher chahn bahng
— idol bf!lee minho x fem!reader x idol!bangchan in which you found yourself in between the hands of two men you admired the most. a simple fleeting conversation with your boyfriend about how concerned you are for their leader turns into something both you and chan wouldn't be able to forget for the rest of your lives.
content warnings: this fic includes detailed nsfw scenes that may be too much for some readers. includes penetrative sex, three-some, voyeurism, use of vibrator, praising, size kink, dom!bangchan, dom!leeknow & submissive!reader, scratching, size difference, intense make out session, and other scenes that might be uncomfortable for some readers. please consume what you can, and separate fiction from reality. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
word count: 3k words
The air in the room hung thick and heavy, like a weight pressing down harder than any noise could. You curled up on Minho's lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist like a familiar trap. But his mind was far away, lost somewhere else.
A deep frown line cut across his forehead, a clear sign his thoughts were stuck on one person: Bang Chan. The leader of Stray Kids, the guy who carried the whole group's world on his back, was breaking under their endless schedule. And Minho felt every bit of that weight too.
You ran your fingers along the tight line of his shoulder, feeling the hard muscles knotted up under your touch. "He's not sleeping," you said softly, cutting through the quiet. "I saw him yesterday. His hands were shaking, Min. He looked so worn out, like he was falling apart."
Your words hit him like a spark.
Minho's whole body went stiff. His hands, which had been resting lightly on your hips, suddenly gripped hard, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pulled you even closer. The warm spark in his eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, sharp stare that held you right where you were.
"And when did you start talking to him?" he asked in a low growl.
You rolled your eyes, a mix of annoyance and fondness for his over-the-top reaction. “Well, no one else seems willing to cook for him,” you replied casually, tracing small circles on Minho's chest with your finger. “So I invite him over sometimes. I just… tried talking to him more.”
A low, warning rumble shook in his chest. "So you like him?" The question floated there, like a trap with no safe way out.
"Of course I like him," you sighed, shaking your head. "He's kind, and he always watches out for everyone. Why wouldn't I?" You tilted your head, giving him a look. “And don’t act like you didn’t practically force him to talk to me. It was painfully obvious.”
"At first, I thought he hated me, though. Every time I tried to chat, he'd get this tight look on his face, like it pained him."
You scrunched your nose, mimicking the expression.
A deep, knowing laugh rolled through Minho's chest. He leaned in close, his lips brushing the sensitive curve of your ear. "God, I love how clueless you are," he whispered, his hot breath sending chills racing down your spine.
Before you could snap back, his mouth crashed onto yours.
It wasn't a soft kiss. It was a takeover. His tongue pushed in, claiming every inch, tasting you deeply until you felt lightheaded and out of breath. Kissing Minho was like sinking into an ocean of heat. He poured everything into it until you were lost, gasping for air.
Your fingers tangled in his thick, soft black hair, holding tight as his hands explored your body with slow, bold moves. They slid down your back, over the round curve of your ass, and stopped at the edge of your shorts. His fingers slipped under the fabric, and a soft, winning chuckle escaped him when he felt nothing but smooth, bare skin.
"No panties, baby?" he murmured against your puffy, kissed-raw lips, his voice thick with hunger.
In one quick, strong lift, he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, thighs squeezing his sides. The room spun in a haze, and then your back hit the cool, fresh sheets of the bed.
He peeled off your clothes with quick, skilled hands. Thrilling and a little scary in how easy he made it seem. Soft leather straps circled your wrists, tying them tight to the headboard slats above your head. More straps bound your ankles, spreading your legs wide open, leaving you totally exposed and at his mercy. Your slick folds bare, your body trembling with need.
You were so caught up in the dizzy rush of his kisses, the overwhelming force of him, that you hardly noticed how helpless he'd made you.
A sharp gasp ripped from your throat as something cold, hard, and perfectly smooth pressed against your wet, aching pussy. A low buzz started vibrating through you, a steady pulse that shot waves of hot pleasure right to your core, making your clit throb and your inner walls clench.
Your knees trembled. Your back bowed off the bed as the toy pushed in slowly, inch by inch. A thick, unyielding shaft that stretched you wide, filling you up until you could barely breathe.
"B-baby... wait, no—" Your plea came out as a weak whimper, swallowed by the thick air. You tugged at the straps on your wrists, but it was useless. He just watched, eyes dark with raw satisfaction, as he gently stroked your cheek. His soft touch a wild contrast to the invading buzz overwhelming your body, making your hips buck uncontrollably.
The doorbell rang suddenly, sharp and loud, making you jolt. Your eyes snapped open in panic, heart pounding. Someone at the door? Right now?
But Minho just grinned, a wicked twist of his lips that promised trouble. He left the toy buried deep inside your pulsing heat, its buzz a nonstop tease driving you wild, as he got up from the bed. The pleasure built so fast and fierce that you couldn't hold back the loud, broken moans spilling from your lips. Raw sounds of desperation echoing in the room.
It felt like forever in that sweet agony before the bedroom door creaked open again. Minho wasn't alone.
The second you saw Chan's face—eyes wide with shock, mouth hanging open as he stared at you—you wanted to disappear. You tried to hide your face, to squeeze your thighs shut, to sink into the bed. But the straps kept you pinned, legs spread wide, body shaking. Your naked skin glistening with sweat, your swollen pussy on full display with the toy's base humming between your slick lips.
"Min, I think I should—" Chan started, his voice rough and shaky as he tried to look away, to give you some privacy. But he couldn't tear his eyes off you. Off the way your body twisted and arched. Off the shiny wetness coating your thighs. Off the vibrator buried in your tight, dripping hole.
"Go? Don't be silly, Chan-ah. Come in," Minho said smoothly, pointing to the armchair he'd set up right at the foot of the bed for the best view. He leaned down, lips grazing your ear, his voice a low, owning whisper. "Be a good girl now, darling. If you keep making those sweet little noises, what will our guest think?"
Chan moved like he was in a dream, dropping into the chair. From there, he had a clear, filthy view of your spread-open pussy. Lips puffy and slick, the toy buzzing inside you, your clit swollen and begging for touch. You saw the worry and shock fade from his face, replaced by something dark, hungry, and full of want. He craved to be the one breaking you, pulling those needy cries from your throat.
"So..." Minho started, his tone way too casual, like you weren't whimpering and close to tears right there. "About the new track layouts?"
They dove into their meeting, voices droning on about schedules and duties. Words you couldn't even grasp. Your world narrowed to the endless buzz throbbing in your core, the ache in your shoulders from the tight straps, the hot burn of shame from being watched like this, your body on display like a toy.
Time blurred into waves of aching bliss. At some point, a desperate, humiliated part of you just wanted relief. Someone to move the damn thing, to give you more, to fill you with something real and warm.
"Oh? Looks like our girl just came from cock-warming a toy," Minho said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming.
How could you not? The idea of Chan's intense gaze on you, watching you squirm and beg, had tipped you over. A fresh rush of shame mixed with thrilling want washed over you as your body clenched and released, juices soaking the sheets.
While you still twitched and pulsed from the orgasm, Minho reached down casually. His fingers gripped the toy's base, twisting it, shoving it deeper, then pulling it out just a bit in a teasing rhythm that made your over-sensitive walls scream with too-much pleasure.
A choked sob burst from you as the overstimulation turned sharp and burning. "You have such a pretty voice, darling. That was so fucking hot," he praised, pride dripping from his words.
Chan looked ready to snap. His knuckles turned white gripping the chair arms, jaw locked tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. Minho eyed him with a smug, winning spark. He knew he'd gotten what he wanted.
"You know, Channie," Minho said, voice dropping to a sly whisper. "Y/N said she likes you."
Chan's head jerked up. He shook it in silent denial. No way you'd want him, not with Minho around.
"Ask her yourself. If you don't believe me." Minho teased, like poison wrapped in silk.
Chan's throat bobbed, but no words came. He looked wrecked, his cool front in pieces.
"Chan!"
Your scream of his name, desperate and sweet, froze him. "I... I want you." The words tumbled out as a broken whisper, pushed by Minho's hot breath in your ear, his good girl whispers urging you on.
In a flash, Chan was at your side. He cupped your face, grip firm but careful, tilting your tear-streaked, puffy eyes to meet his fiery stare.
"Say it again," he demanded, voice rough and needy. He had to hear it, to know this wasn't just his imagination. "Tell me exactly what you want."
As if to speak for you, Minho thrust the toy hard and deep. The jolt of pleasure-pain tore a final, clear cry from your lips.
"Yes! I want you to fuck me, please!"
A slow, pleased smirk spread over Minho's face. That was all Chan needed. His long fingers moved fast, undoing the leather straps from your wrists and ankles. The cool material sliding off your hot, flushed skin. He lifted you with surprising power, like you were weightless, positioning you until you straddled his lap, your dripping pussy hovering just above his hard, straining cock.
You winced as the toy finally slid out, leaving a sudden, empty ache that made your head spin from all the overwhelming buzz. The next thing you knew, Chan's hands were all over you. They roamed across your chest, grabbing and squeezing your full breasts, his mouth chasing after to leave sharp bites that stung and wet sucks that soothed the red marks on your soft skin. You glanced down at the man under you, his light blue hair standing out against his dark eyes, burning with raw lust.
Minho didn't stay back. He slid in close behind you, his body pressing against your back as his hands joined the mix. He cupped your ass, squeezing the soft flesh hard while his lips found your neck, sucking and biting to leave his own hot marks that made you shiver. His fingers dipped between your thighs from behind, teasing your slick entrance alongside Chan's touches, spreading your wetness and making you gasp from the double attention.
"That's it, jagi," Minho murmured in your ear, his voice low and teasing. "Show him how good you feel."
"Oh, Chan!"
Hearing his name spill from your lips made his whole body go tense. You were both so wrapped up in the heat of it all, lost in the close, sweaty closeness, with Minho adding to the fire by grinding against you from behind. He was happy about it. This wasn't just about sharing his pretty girl; it was about helping the man he admired most, like a brother. After years fighting side by side in the same tough world, Chan was family. Minho's loyalty ran deep. He'd follow him anywhere, just like you'd follow Minho. Without a question.
Chan's arms wrapped around your waist, yanking you down as the thick, swollen head of his cock nudged against your wet, sensitive entrance. Your pussy still slick and pulsing from before. With one hard thrust, he drove himself deep inside you. A rough groan ripped from both your throats at the intense feel of it. He was so thick and long, stretching your tight walls wide, like he was tearing you open in the best way, filling every inch with hot pressure.
Minho stayed right there, his hands roaming your body as Chan thrust. He reached around to pinch and roll your nipples between his fingers, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through you that made your back arch. His other hand slid down to rub slow circles on your clit, matching Bang Chan's rhythm and doubling the overwhelming sensations. You moaned louder, caught between them, their bodies pressing you tight in a haze of heat and need.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Chan growled through gritted teeth, his voice rough and strained. Your body squeezed around him on its own, clenching hard at the deep invasion. You tried to speak, to beg for what you craved, but you were totally under their control, drowning in a fog of heat and need. The slick slide of his cock, the teasing pressure from Minho's fingers, the burn in your core.
You reached up, your hand shaking as you cupped Chan's face. Your touch was soft and caring, almost too gentle, and it nearly shattered him.
"Fuck," he choked out. "Baby, you're driving me insane."
He started moving, pulling almost all the way out, his cock dragging against your inner walls, before slamming back in balls-deep. The sharp smack of skin on skin echoed through the room, mixing with your desperate cries and the wet sounds of your bodies connecting. He built a brutal rhythm, hips snapping up into you hard and fast, and you felt the deep rumble of his groans vibrating in his chest while your whimpers filled his ears. The air thick with the salty scent of sweat and sex.
Minho kept pace, his fingers working your clit faster now, slick with your arousal, while he leaned in to capture your mouth in a deep, claiming kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, swallowing your moans as Chan's thrusts rocked you between them. The combined touches pushed you higher, your body trembling from the overload of pleasure from both men.
Your body turned against you, twisting and grinding back against him as pain and wild pleasure twisted tight in your belly. He noticed your struggle and thought you were hurting, so he eased up, slowing to gentler, careful strokes that teased more than satisfied.
"No!" you cried out, heart pounding. "Faster, please!" You begged, even though your muscles burned and screamed. You needed it rough, needed him to take you apart.
You clawed your nails down his back, leaving red scratches that made him hiss from the sharp sting. Taking that as his green light, he let go of all control. He ramped up the pounding pace, no longer handling you like fragile glass. You could feel his cock throbbing deep inside, his muscles tensing. A clear sign he was right on the edge. In that haze, he seemed to forget you weren't really his to own.
Minho grinned at the sight, his hand sliding up to grip your throat lightly, adding a possessive edge that made your pulse race. He whispered praises in your ear, "Good girl, taking us both so well," while his fingers kept circling your clit, building the fire even hotter as Bang Chan's thrusts grew wilder.
His climax crashed over him like a wave. His cock twitched and pulsed, flooding your pussy with hot spurts of cum as he kept thrusting, his hips jerking wildly. He wasn't quiet about it; a deep, owning growl of mine vibrated in his chest, followed by your name whispered like a desperate wish.
But Chan wasn't done. Not even close. He stayed buried inside you, his eyes dropping to where your bodies met. Watching his cum leak out around his softening cock, mixing with your juices in a sticky mess. He wanted to see you totally wrecked, falling apart for him.
In one quick move, his hand shot down, his fingers replacing Minho's. You let out a high-pitched, teary sob as his thumb pressed right on your swollen clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub. He worked it with purpose, eyes locked on your face as it twisted in bliss, watching every make face you do with how his fingers worked on your swollen clit. The pressure building fast, your hips bucking against his touch.
Minho leaned in again, his mouth latching onto your breast, sucking hard on your nipple while his hand teased the other, pinching just enough to send sparks of pain-pleasure through you. The extra stimulation from him made everything more intense, your body caught in their shared rhythm.
"Say my name," Chan ordered, voice low and commanding.
You did, his name a shaky whisper on your lips, breath hot and ragged.
That sound pushed him further. He used the slippery mix of cum and your wetness to stroke your clit harder, faster. Fingers slick and relentless. Driving you straight to the brink. This was it. Your peak hit like a storm. Your vision blurred to white, body shaking hard, legs locking around his arm as waves of pleasure ripped through you, your pussy clenching and soaking his hand.
As you floated down from the high, body still jerking with little aftershocks, something clicked for Chan. He finally got why you had such a hold on Minho. You weren't just a pretty face or a warm body to fuck. You were a true lover. You gave everything, and the pure joy on your face in those moments was addictive. A sharp stab of jealousy hit him. Minho saw this every day. The flushed cheeks, the satisfied glow, the way you melted into bliss.
How long had that been going on?
Chan wanted it too. He craved being the one to see that look in your eyes every single day.
"Hey, now. Don't look so down," Minho's voice broke the quiet, like he could read his thoughts. "One day with her isn't enough to satisfy anyone."
A slow smile spread across Chan's face as it sank in. This wasn't the end. It was just the start.
a/n: so if you guys remember, i did a poll about this not too long ago. i actually have finished this up for quite some time now, but i just can't find the timing to post it because of the amount of series i have to update. HAHAHAHAHA crazy right? but anyway! here it is. this is not the usual length of fic i write, but! i hope you like this one! < 3
