Starchild @platypusundercover - Tumblr Blog

Jun 13

♯┆Jumpy .ᐟ

Summary: Chris comes into the shop wanting a back piece. He leaves with a half-finished tattoo, a praise kink, and two men who absolutely should not be allowed near black nitrile gloves.

Pairing: TattooArtist!changbin x bangchan x piercer!Jisung genre: smut ♱ cw/tags: threesome, bottom!bangchan, top!Changbin, needle usage, polyamorous themes, consent is sexy, fingering, public sex, blowjobs, praise kinks, possessive behavior, tattooing as foreplay?, where is HR? * ✩˚ word count ˚✩ * 5.9k

The bell above the door jingled when Chris stepped into the tattoo shop. Warmth hit him immediately.

Low music. Dark walls. The sharp smell of disinfectant tangled with coffee and cigarette smoke drifting in every time the door opened.

Flash sheets covered almost every inch of wall space. Black ink. Dragons. Knives. Angels with covered eyes.

Chris suddenly felt bare.

“Yo,” someone called.

A guy behind the counter looked up from organizing what looked like an alarming amount of piercing jewelry.

“You here for Bin?”

Chris blinked. “Uh. Changbin?”

“Nah,” the guy deadpanned. “The other Bin. We keep several in the back.”

Chris snorted before he could stop himself.

The guy grinned instantly, like that had been the goal all along, “Nice. Most people look terrified when they come in here.”

“I am terrified.”

“Even better.”

“Jisung,” another voice called from deeper in the shop.

Calm. Rough. Low enough to settle somewhere under Chris’s ribs.

“Stop harassing the clients.”

“I’m enriching their experience.”

Footsteps sounded a second later. Then he appeared from the hallway, tugging black gloves off one hand with his teeth.

Chris’s stare lingered before he could stop it.

Broad shoulders. Tattoos disappearing beneath sleeves stretched tight across his arms. Calm expression like he had no idea what looking like that did to people.

Changbin noticed flicking his eyes up briefly, dark and steady, before settling back on the tablet in his hand.

“Chris?” Jisung asked, glancing at the monitor. “You filled out the consultation form online?”

“Yeah.” Chris cleared his throat. “Yeah, I did.”

“Back piece, right?” he asked.

Chris nodded once.

Changbin’s attention sharpened immediately.

He finally stepped closer, setting the tablet down on the counter before holding out a hand.

“Changbin.”

Chris took it automatically.

Warm palm. Rough fingertips.

“Chris.”

Changbin’s grip lingered for barely a second before he let go again. “You brought references?”

Chris pulled out his phone quickly, opening the folder he’d saved over the past month.

“I’m Jisung, by the way,” the piercer said easily. “If you survive the tattoo, I do piercings too.”

Changbin took the phone from his hand, thumb scrolling slowly through the reference photos.

“You want the whole upper back done?” he asked eventually.

“Eventually, yeah.”

Changbin glanced up then, gaze direct enough to pin Chris in place. “You know that’s gonna hurt.”

Not mocking. Almost curious. Like he wanted to see how much Chris could take.

Chris crossed his arms loosely. “I think I’ll survive.”

Jisung snorted softly. "That's what they all say.

Changbin handed the phone back. “Good. Let’s get you prepped.”

The room was smaller than the main shop, warmer. A single tattoo bed sat in the center, black leather gleaming under the overhead lamp. Shelves lined the walls—bottles, machines, gloves. The smell of ink and alcohol hit Chris harder in here.

“Shirt off,” Changbin said, already snapping gloves into place.

Chris pulled his shirt over his head, suddenly hyperaware of how quiet the room felt compared to the front.

“Sit for me first."

Chris sat on the edge of the tattoo bed while Changbin rolled his stool closer, close enough that one knee settled between Chris’s without apology.

“Lemme see the references again.”

Chris handed over his phone.

“You’ve got a decent pain tolerance?”

“I think so.”

Changbin glanced up. “You think so?”

Chris laughed under his breath. “I’ve never gotten something this big before.”

“Mm.”

Changbin leaned back slightly, studying him. “The spine’s gonna suck,” he said casually. “Shoulder blades too.”

Before Chris could answer, the door cracked open. Jisung stepped inside balancing two iced coffees in one hand.

“You’re doing the intense silence thing again,” he said.

“I’m working.”

“You looked at him for thirty seconds.”

“I was assessing placement.”

Jisung handed one of the coffees toward Chris. “See? Scary.”

Chris took it, trying unsuccessfully not to smile.

Changbin tugged his gloves off again before motioning toward the chair tucked against the wall.

“C’mere,” he said. “Need to sketch this out first.”

Chris sat beside him, knees nearly brushing. It shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did.

One word. Two syllables.

C’mere.

Casual. Thoughtless, probably.

Still, something about the low rasp of Changbin’s voice settled warm beneath Chris’s ribs.

Changbin pulled up a blank canvas on the tablet and started sketching rough lines.

Chris found himself watching his hands more than the design itself.

“Placement matters with something this big,” Changbin murmured. “Especially on a back piece.”

“Why?”

“Because anatomy changes the flow.”

“Translation,” Jisung cut in, “you’ve got a ridiculously good back for this.”

Chris nearly choked on his coffee.

Changbin didn’t look up from the tablet, though Chris caught the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Broad shoulders, narrow waist,” Jisung continued thoughtfully. “Bin’s probably internally drafting blueprints already.”

“Jisung.”

“What? I’m appreciating the canvas.”

Changbin sighed, “You are actively making my job harder.”

Changbin finally looked up.

At Chris.

“Turn around for me,” he said evenly. “Need to check the spacing properly.”

Chris did, trying very hard not to think about the fact that he was shirtless in a warm room with two men staring at his back.

Silence settled briefly.

“Jesus Christ,” Jisung muttered.

Chris glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jisung said innocently. “Just realizing Bin’s about to become emotionally attached to this tattoo.”

“I do not get emotionally attached.”

“You literally called someone’s shoulder blades ‘inspiring’ last week.”

“They were inspiring.”

Chris bit back a smile.

Changbin stepped closer before either of them could continue. “Straighten up a little.”

Chris obeyed automatically.

Warm fingers brushed briefly against the center of his back, guiding his posture.“Relax your shoulders,” Changbin murmured.

The touch should’ve felt professional.

Instead, Chris became aware of every inch of skin Changbin’s hand moved across.

“You've got good skin for this,” Changbin murmured, fingers dragging once along Chris’s spine.

Chris shivered before he could stop it.

Changbin’s hand paused.

Behind them, Jisung made a suspiciously amused noise.

“Don’t start,” Changbin said immediately.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Jisung laughed quietly before leaving the room.

The door shut behind him.

The silence felt different after that.

Heavier.

Changbin reached for the printed stencil sheets beside the workstation, flipping them carefully beneath the overhead light.

“Turn around again for me.”

Chris did so without a problem.

He could hear the rustle of paper behind him. Bottles shifting across the tray.

“Cold,” Changbin warned.

A damp cloth dragged across the width of Chris’s back before he could prepare for it properly, making him jerk slightly.

Changbin’s hand settled automatically against his side to steady him. “Hold still.”

That tone again. Calm. Low. Impossible to ignore

Changbin cleaned the area slowly, one hand firm against Chris’s waist while the other worked across his shoulders and spine.

Chris focused very hard on breathing normally. Didn't help.

“You always this nervous?” Changbin asked quietly.

“You always stand this close to people?”

A pause.

Then he whispered near his ear, “Kinda have to for my job.”

Chris swallowed hard.

The stencil pressed carefully against his back a second later, Changbin smoothing it down with deliberate pressure.

Fingers spread low against Chris’s waist.

Steady.

Grounding.

“Chin up a little,” Changbin murmured.

Chris obeyed before thinking about it.

“Good.”

Changbin stepped back after another moment.

“Don’t move yet,” he said.

Chris heard gloves snap softly as Changbin peeled them off, followed by the quiet clatter of tools shifting across the tray.

Then footsteps circled back in front of him.

Changbin leaned down slightly, studying the stencil placement in silence.

“Turn a little,” he murmured. His hand settled briefly against Chris’s waist to guide him the rest of the way.

“There.”

Changbin’s thumb lingered for half a second before pulling away.

“Mirror’s behind you.”

Chris turned carefully toward the full-length mirror propped against the wall.

Dark purple lines spread sharply across his upper back, clean against his skin.

Bigger than he’d imagined.

Better too.

It felt strangely intimate seeing something Changbin designed specifically for him sitting there already.

“Fuck,” Chris admitted quietly.

That earned him a soft laugh.

“Good or bad?”

Chris glanced at him through the mirror.

Changbin was already watching him instead of the stencil.

“Good.”

Changbin nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Thought so too.”

He held his gaze for a moment, then: “Lay down for me.”

Chris’s brain short-circuited a little at how easily the words left Changbin’s mouth. Like Chris wasn’t already one command away from combusting.

He moved toward the tattoo bed before he could embarrass himself by hesitating.

“Face down,” Changbin added, adjusting the overhead light. “And get comfortable now, because once we start, you’re gonna be there awhile.”

Chris settled onto the bed carefully, arms folding beneath his head.

The vinyl was cool against his skin.

Behind him, Changbin moved around the workstation with practiced ease. Bottles clicked softly against metal. Gloves snapping into place. Then the low mechanical buzz of the tattoo machine filled the room.

Chris felt it somewhere in his chest.

“Still good?” Changbin asked.

Chris turned his head slightly to look back at him. “Little late to back out now, isn’t it?”

“People do.”

“Do you let them?”

Changbin looked almost amused at that. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether I think they’ll regret it tomorrow.”

Chris watched him for another second. “And me?”

Changbin stepped closer again, one gloved hand settling briefly against the back of his shoulder, grounding him.

“You don’t seem like the type to run.”

The words settled warm and heavy somewhere under Chris’s ribs.

Before he could, answer, Changbin leaned in slightly. “First line might sting,” he said quietly. “Try not to tense up.”

Then the needle touched skin.

Chris tensed instinctively despite the warning, breath catching as the sharp sting spread across his upper back.

“Easy,” Changbin murmured. His free hand pressed briefly against the small of his back, steadying him while the machine buzzed steadily against skin.

“Breathe through it.”

Chris forced himself to relax little by little beneath the pressure of Changbin’s hand.

The pain dulled after the first few minutes, settling into something warmer. Constant. Almost numbing in the strangest way.

Changbin worked quietly, focused on the outline while occasionally wiping excess ink from Chris’s skin.

“You're handling it well,” Changbin said, his voice closer than Chris expected. “Most people start squirming once I start wiping.”

Chris turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of Changbin's focused expression. “I told you I'd survive.”

“Mm.” Changbin paused, setting the machine down. “Lemme see?"

Chris pushed himself up onto his elbows carefully, twisting enough to look over his shoulder. The outline of the wolf had already started taking shape beneath the crescent moon. Sharp lines stretching cleanly across his back.

“Looks sick,” Chris said.

Changbin hummed in agreement. He didn't sit back down immediately.

Instead, his hand settled against the back of Chris’s neck, thumb pressing slowly into the tense muscle there.

Chris’ eyes fluttered shut before he could stop himself.

“You're tight,” Changbin observed quietly. “Need a break?”

“No.”

Too fast

Changbin’s thumb worked once against the knot at the base of his neck. “Relax,” he murmured.

Chris exhaled carefully into his folded arms, trying very hard not to react to something as simple as Changbin touching him.

It wasn’t working particularly well.

“You always get this tense during tattoos?” Changbin asked quietly.

“Depends.”

“On?”

He turned his head just enough to glance back at him. “Whether my tattoo artist keeps putting his hands on me like that.”

The corner of Changbin’s mouth twitched.

“Kinda necessary for my job,” Changbin said, voice low again as his hand settled back against Chris’s spine.

Necessary, maybe.

The slow drag of his thumb as he pulled away afterward definitely wasn’t.

The loss of it felt annoyingly immediate.

Chris heard the machine buzz back to life a second later.

“You can tap out whenever you need,” Changbin said, settling back into position behind him. “Big pieces aren’t a race.”

“I’m good.”

“You sure?”

Chris glanced back just enough to catch Changbin watching him instead of the tattoo for once. Focused in a way that had nothing to do with the ink anymore.

“Yeah,” Chris said more quietly this time.

Changbin held his gaze for another second before nodding once. "Alright."

Then the needle met skin again.

The next line dragged dangerously close to his spine, sharp enough to pull a rough breath from him before he could stop it.

Changbin’s free hand spread against the middle of his back automatically. “Yep, there it is,” he said softly. “That spot sucks.”

He laughed weakly into his folded arms. “You sound way too pleased about that.”

“Occupational hazard.”

The machine buzzed steadily again after that, filling the room while Changbin worked another line into the tattoo.

Pain came in waves now. Sharp near the spine. Duller across his shoulders.

Every so often Changbin would wipe the area clean, fingers pressing firm against Chris’ back while checking the lines.

Each touch lingered just enough to feel intentional.

Or maybe Chris was imagining that part.

“Color later?” Changbin asked eventually.

“Mostly line work and shading.”

“Good choice.”

“Yeah?”

“Fits you.”

Chris opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was sure whatever his hazy mind would've said would have embarrassed him later.

Behind him, Changbin shifted slightly closer while adjusting the angle of the machine. “This next part might sting a little more,” he warned.

“You keep saying that like you’re trying to scare me.”

“You keep acting brave like I can’t feel you tense every time I hit your spine.”

Chris flushed immediately. “I’m not tensing.”

Changbin hummed.

Then deliberately dragged one gloved fingertip lightly down the center of his back, causing his body to jerk.

“Mm,” Changbin said. “Sure.”

“Fuck you.”

“Buy me dinner first.”

Chris froze.

Then, from the other side of the wall, “OH, that was smooth.”

Changbin closed his eyes briefly like he regretted ever being born.

“Why are you listening?”

“Thin walls,” Jisung called back immediately. “Also this is the most entertainment I’ve had all week.”

“Get out of my shop.”

“You say that every day.”

Changbin shook his head once under his breath before refocusing.

Chris could still feel the lingering heat of that buy me dinner first line sitting low in his stomach.

The machine buzzed back to life as Changbin’s hand spread firmly across the small of Chris’ back, holding him steady as the needle dragged another sharp line near his spine.

Chris inhaled sharply.

“Don't forget to breathe,” Changbin murmured. His voice had changed a little. Lower now. Rougher around the edges.

He obeyed automatically.

The pressure of Changbin’s palm stayed constant against him while he worked, fingers flexing occasionally whenever he twitched beneath the needle.

Not enough to restrain. Just enough to remind him exactly where Changbin was touching him.

“Sensitive there?” Changbin asked quietly.

Chris laughed once, breathless. “You’re literally tattooing my spine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Heat crawled down Chris' neck.

Changbin wiped excess ink from his back again, slower this time. The cloth dragged across freshly irritated skin while his thumb pressed briefly into the dip at the bottom of his spine.

Chris bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, “You did that on purpose?” he muttered.

“Did what?”

“That.”

Changbin finally leaned back slightly, machine still buzzing softly in his hand. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Chris turned his head enough to catch the faint curve pulling at Changbin’s mouth.

There it was. Not professional. Something else entirely.

Changbin’s gaze flicked slowly across his face before dropping lower for half a second.

Then back to the tattoo.

“Hold still for me,” he said quietly.

Chris hated how much he liked hearing that.

The machine buzzed low between them again, filling the silence while Changbin leaned back over him.

Every touch felt heavier now. Intentional.

Chris could feel the warmth of Changbin’s arm beside him each time he leaned in to wipe away excess ink, could feel the steady pressure of his hand settling automatically against his back whenever the needle drifted too close to his spine.

“Yeah,” Changbin murmured after another sharp line near his spine pulled a reaction out of him. “That’s another spot.”

Chris exhaled shakily into his folded arms. “You sound way too pleased about that.”

Changbin hummed, “You make interesting noises.”

Chris went completely still. Behind him, the machine stopped buzzing. Silence rushed into the room.

Chris could feel Changbin watching him again without even turning around.

“Relax,” Changbin said after a second, voice quieter now. Closer. “Wasn’t making fun of you.”

Somehow that made it worse.

A cloth dragged slowly across his back again, cleaning excess ink.

Changbin’s fingers followed after it absentmindedly, tracing along the fresh lines. “Skin’s getting warm,” he murmured.

“Probably because you keep touching me.”

Another pause.

“You want me to stop?”

Chris’s breath caught embarrassingly fast. Because the worst part was that Changbin sounded genuine. Like he actually would stop if Chris asked.

Chris turned his head just enough to look at him again. Changbin was close. Way too close.

Dark eyes steady on his face, expression unreadable except for the faint tension sitting tight in his jaw now.

Waiting.

Chris’ pulse kicked harder beneath his skin. “No,” he admitted quietly.

Something shifted in Changbin’s expression then. Brief. Sharp enough for Chris to notice anyway.

Changbin held his gaze for a second longer before nodding once. “Good.”

Then he was back to work.

The machine buzzed steadily for another few minutes before suddenly going quiet again.

“You keep locking up on me,” Changbin said.

Chris turned his head slightly. “Maybe your bedside manner sucks.”

That earned him a low laugh. Then warmth pressed briefly against the center of his back. Not the machine.

Changbin’s hand.

Slow once down the tense muscles beside his spine.

Chris’ breath caught before he could stop it.

“You’ve been tense since I touched you the first time,” he said evenly. “Trying to figure out if it’s the pain or if you just like being handled.”

Chris forgot how to answer.

The room suddenly felt too warm. Too small.

Changbin watched him steadily, waiting.

“Bin,” Jisung called through the wall. “Your five o’clock’s here.”

The moment snapped without fully breaking.

Changbin exhaled softly through his nose before finally stepping back. “Saved by the schedule,” he muttered.

Chris pushed himself upright slowly while Changbin peeled off his gloves and reached for the aftercare wrap.

“We’ll finish the shading next session,” he said, voice calmer now. “You did good.”

The praise landed harder than it should’ve.

Changbin stepped closer again to smooth the bandage carefully across Chris’s back. Professional. Mostly.

“Three weeks,” he said. “And don’t scratch it.”

Chris huffed a quiet laugh. “You say that like you expect me to.”

“I expect you to be a problem.”

Their eyes met briefly.

Then Jisung appeared in the doorway, took one look at them, and sighed. “You two are exhausting already.”

Three weeks later, Chris walked back into the shop and immediately regretted how much his mood lifted at the sight of Changbin behind the counter.

Changbin looked up the second the bell above the door rang.

“You’re late.”

Chris checked the clock automatically. “By two minutes.”

“Still counts.”

Jisung snorted from behind. “He noticed immediately too.”

“Nobody asked you.”

Chris bit back a smile as he moved further into the shop.

Changbin’s gaze tracked him automatically before he jerked his chin toward the chair beside the counter.

“C’mere,” he said. “Lemme see how it healed.”

There it was again.

C’mere.

Like the word had somehow become reserved specifically for him.

Chris sat while Changbin rolled over on his stool, gloved hands already reaching for the hem of his shirt.

“Arms up.”

Chris obeyed before thinking about it.

Changbin pushed the fabric high enough to expose the tattoo. His fingertips brushed lightly across some of the partially healed lines, causing Chris to inhale sharply.

“Still sensitive?” he asked quietly.

Chris swallowed once. “A little.”

“Mm.”

Across the lobby now, Jisung made a thoughtful noise.“You know,” he said casually, “most clients don’t react to aftercare checks like they’re in a romance novel.”

“Most piercers know when to shut up,” Changbin shot back.

“And yet,” Jisung sighed dramatically, “I continue to sacrifice myself for the narrative.”

Chris laughed weakly, mostly to break the tension hanging thick between them.

Changbin ignored Jisung completely after that, attention dropping back to the tattoo. His fingers traced lower this time, following the edge of the healed ink down his back.

Slow and deliberate, and Chris felt every inch of it.

“Healing nicely,” Changbin said quietly.

Chris looked at him then.

Changbin was already looking at him instead of the tattoo. Calm expression. Dark eyes. One hand still spread against Chris’s bare skin like he’d forgotten to move it.

“Yeah?” Chris asked, voice rougher than intended.

Changbin’s gaze flicked briefly to his mouth. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Looks good on you.”

Jisung looked between them slowly.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re both making this weird.”

“We’re literally sitting here,” Chris said.

“Exactly,” Jisung replied.

Changbin’s thumb dragged once more along the edge of the healed ink before he finally pulled his hand away.

The loss of it felt immediate.

“You’re tense already,” Changbin observed.

“Maybe because you keep touching me like that.”

One corner of Changbin’s mouth lifted slightly.

“And yet,” Jisung cut in thoughtfully, “he came back.”

Chris opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, then closes it again, because unfortunately, Jisung had a point.

Changbin leaned back slightly, gaze still fixed on Chris like he was waiting to see what he’d do next.

“You trying to help him relax before the session or make it worse?” Jisung asked.

“Depends.”

“On?”

Changbin’s eyes flicked slowly over Chris’s face before settling again. “What he wants.”

The room went quiet.

Chris suddenly became very aware of Jisung still standing nearby. Of him sitting between Changbin's knees. Of the fact that one wrong answer was probably going to change the entire direction of the afternoon.

Jisung tilted his head slightly, studying him now instead of teasing for once.

“You know,” he said, voice quieter this time, “most people would’ve stopped coming here if they were uncomfortable.”

Chris swallowed hard.

Changbin still hadn’t looked away.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Chris admitted.

Something subtle shifted in Changbin’s expression at that and Jisung noticed immediately.

“Right,” he said softly, like he was finally understanding the shape of something. “That makes way more sense.”

The room stayed quiet for another second.

Jisung leaned back against the counter beside them, arms folding loosely across his chest while he looked Chris over with open curiosity now.

“So,” he said lightly, “you’ve just been letting this man manhandle you because you enjoy the atmosphere?”

“That’s not what’s happening.”

Changbin finally spoke without taking his eyes off Chris. “Isn’t it?”

Chris’ stomach flipped hard enough to irritate him.

Jisung let out a soft laugh under his breath. “See, this is why I said romance novel.”

“You talk too much,” Changbin muttered.

“And you pretend not to flirt while staring at him like that. We all have hobbies.”

Chris looked away first. Mistake.

Because now he could feel both of them watching him.

“Relax,” Changbin said quietly.

The word landed differently this time. Less instruction. More invitation.

Changbin rolled his stool a little closer, one hand settling against Chris’s thigh briefly as he adjusted his position.

Chris inhaled slowly.

“You’re still tense,” Changbin observed.

“Maybe this situation is insane.”

“Probably,” Jisung agreed easily. Then he stepped forward, stopping beside Changbin’s chair.

Close enough now that Chris could feel the heat coming off both of them.

“Question is,” Jisung said, voice softer than before, “do you actually want us to stop?”

Chris looked between them.

Changbin stayed still, steady gaze fixed on him while one gloved thumb traced once against the inside of Chris’s thigh.

Waiting for an answer.

Giving him room to say yes.

Which somehow only made Chris want to say no more.

Chris should’ve said stop, or laugh all of this off.

Or done literally anything other than sit there silently while Changbin’s thumb continued its slow drag against his thigh.

But instead, “No,” he admitted quietly.

Jisung’s expression shifted immediately, amusement fading into something more focused. “Okay,” he said softly.

The simplicity of it made Chris’s pulse jump harder than if either of them had pushed.

Changbin leaned back slightly on the stool, gaze still fixed on Chris. “Need you to use your words with us,” he said.

Like he was giving instructions during the tattoo all over again.

Chris swallowed once. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence settled briefly after that. Heavy in a completely different way now.

Jisung stepped closer first, studying Chris carefully. “You’re shaking,” he murmured.

Chris looked down automatically at his hands trembling a little against his thighs.

“That nervous?” Jisung asked.

“Maybe.”

“Cute.”

Changbin shot him a look. “Ease up.”

“I am easing up.” Jisung mumbles. His attention dropped back to Chris, softer now. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You can still tell us to stop whenever you want, alright?”

Chris nodded once.

Something in Changbin’s posture loosened slightly at that.

Then he stood.

The movement crowded Chris immediately, large frame settling into his space while one gloved hand tilted Chris’s chin upward.

“Look at me,” Changbin murmured.

Dark eyes. Calm expression. The same unbearable focus Changbin always got during sessions, except now it had nothing to do with tattoos anymore.

“Still sure?”

Chris’s answer came quicker this time. “Yeah.”

Changbin held his gaze for another second before his thumb brushed once along his jaw.

After lingering for a few seconds, he finally pulled away, just enough to look past him toward Jisung.

Something passed between them silently.

Jisung’s mouth curved faintly. “Back room?” he asked.

Chris' pulse jumped as Changbin looked back at him immediately.

“Only if he says yes.”

The words landed heavier than they should have.

Chris swallowed, suddenly aware of the open shop around them. The front windows. The counter. The bell above the door. The thin wall separating public from private.

Jisung’s teasing softened at the edges. “No pressure,” he said. “Seriously.”

Changbin stayed close, voice low enough that it felt meant only for Chris. “You want to keep going?”

Chris looked between them.

Jisung, waiting with unusual patience.

Changbin, steady and unreadable except for the tension in his jaw.

Chris nodded once.

“Words.”

Chris’s breath caught. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I want to keep going.”

Changbin held his gaze for one more second before nodding toward the hallway.

“Private room.”

It wasn’t a question.

Jisung pushed away from the counter first, flipping the little sign on the desk to back in ten before locking the front door with a soft click.

Changbin watched Chris' gaze go over to the door, and placed his hand lightly against the small of his back, guiding him toward the hallway.

“Still with us?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

The back room felt different this time.

Same leather bed. Same low light. Same sharp trace of ink and antiseptic in the air.

But the purpose of the room had changed completely.

Changbin closed the door behind them.

Jisung leaned back against the wall, watching Chris with a quieter kind of focus now.

Changbin stepped between them, one hand still resting at Chris’s back. “Here’s how this goes,” he said calmly. “You tell us if anything feels wrong. You tell us if you want to stop. No guessing.”

Chris nodded.

Changbin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Out loud.”

“I’ll tell you.”

Jisung’s smile returned, slower this time. “Good boy,” he said softly.

Chris went still.

Changbin's hand pressed once against his back, grounding and possessive at the same time.

“Careful,” he murmured, looking at Jisung. “I said I wanted to watch, not that you could break him before we start.”

The air between them crackled with anticipation, the tension so thick Chris could barely breathe.

Changbin’s hand slid from his back to his hip, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, possessive and steady. Jisung pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them.

“Look at you,” Jisung murmured, tilting Chris’s chin up with one finger. “So pretty when you’re nervous.”

Chris swallowed hard, pulse fluttering under Jisung’s touch. Changbin’s grip tightened slightly, a silent reassurance, or a warning. He couldn’t tell.

Jisung leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Chris’ ear. “Tell me what you want.”

A shiver ran down his spine. His voice came out rougher than he expected. “You.”

Changbin hummed, low and approving, as Jisung’s mouth found his throat. Teeth scraped skin, just shy of pain. Chris gasped, hands clutching at Changbin’s sleeves for balance as Jisung pressed closer.

“Both of us?” Changbin asked, thumb tracing circles over his hipbone.

Chris nodded frantically.

Jisung pulled back just enough to smirk. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes....both of you,” Chris managed, breathless.

Changbin’s other hand tangled in his hair, tilting his head back to claim his mouth in a kiss that stole what little coherence he had left. Jisung’s hands were already working open his jeans.

The leather bed creaked under their combined weight as they guided him down, Jisung straddling his hips while Changbin loomed over them both.

Chris arched into their touches, moaning as Jisung palmed him through his pants.

“That’s it,” Changbin murmured against his jaw. “Let us take care of you.”

Jisung’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Chris’s pants, dragging them down just enough to expose the flushed skin of his hips.

Changbin’s mouth was relentless now, biting and soothing in turns along his throat while his hand slipped beneath fabric, gripping Chris hard enough to pull a choked moan from his lips.

“Fuck—!”

Jisung grinned, leaning down to mouth at the sensitive skin of Chris’s inner thigh. “You like that? The way he touches you?”

Chris could only nod, hips jerking helplessly when Changbin’s thumb swiped over the head of his cock, smearing precum down the length.

“Answer him,” Changbin growled, tightening his grip just shy of painful.

“Yes....yes, fuck—”

Jisung hummed, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the crease of Chris’s hip. “Good.”

Then his tongue was tracing the underside of his cock, slow and deliberate, and his back arched off the bed with a broken gasp. Changbin’s free hand pinned his hip down, holding him in place as Jisung took him deeper, lips slick and perfect around him.

Changbin watched, eyes dark with hunger, before dragging Chris into another rough kiss, swallowing every ragged moan Jisung coaxed out of him.

The bed groaned beneath them.

Changbin pulled back just enough to watch Jisung work, lips glistening around Chris’s cock as he hollowed his cheeks. The sight made Changbin’s own arousal throb.

The slow drag of Jisung’s mouth, the way Chris’ fingers twisted in the sheets, the desperate little noises he couldn’t stop.

Changbin leaned down again, biting at Chris’ lower lip. “You close already?”

Chris shook his head frantically, but his hips jerked when Jisung swallowed around him, his fingernails dug into Changbin’s shoulders.

“Liar,” Changbin murmured, dragging a hand down his chest to thumb at his nipple.

Jisung pulled off with a wet sound, grinning up at his wrecked expression. “He tastes so good,” he mused, shifting higher to kiss Changbin lazily over Chris’ trembling body. “Want a turn?”

Changbin didn’t answer, just gripped Chris’ jaw and tilted his head back to lick into his mouth, slowly, while Jisung’s fingers trailed lower, pressing between Chris' thighs—

He jerked against them, a broken moan muffled against Changbin’s tongue as he felt a pressure against his rim.

Jisung's fingers pressed insistently against his entrance, circling slowly before pushing in just the tip. Chris gasped against Changbin's mouth, his whole body tensing at the sudden intrusion.

"Relax," Jisung murmured, but there was a teasing lilt to his voice as he worked his finger deeper.

Changbin finally released Chris's mouth, but only to watch the slick trail of saliva connect their lips for a second before snapping.

His hand joined Jisung's between Chris's thighs, fingers brushing against Jisung's as they worked together to tease Chris open.

Chris threw his head back with a gasp when Jisung's fingertip pressed inside, barely resisting before giving way. Changbin watched every twitch of his expression, every hitch in his breathing like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

"You feel that?" Changbin murmured, pressing his thumb against his lower lip again. "How good he's making you feel?"

Chris could only nod, his thighs trembling as Jisung added a second finger, curling them just right.

Jisung nipped at Changbin's jaw. "He's so tight," he breathed, the words sending a fresh shudder through Chris' body.

Changbin's grip on Chris's jaw tightened possessively. "Mine first."

Jisung smirked but didn't argue, withdrawing his fingers with one last slow drag that made Chris whimper. Changbin pushed Chris onto his back softly, hiking his legs up higher as he positioned himself between them.

Chris barely had time to breathe before Changbin was pressing in, relentless and slow, filling him until his vision whited out at the edges.

Jisung's hand wrapped around Chris' neglected cock, stroking in time with Changbin's thrusts. "Look at you," he murmured, kissing the sweat-damp hollow of his throat. "Taking him so well."

Changbin growled low in his throat, snapping his hips harder, driving Chris further into the leather with every movement.

Chris couldn't speak, couldn't think, just clung to them as pleasure coiled tight in his gut, threatening to snap.

Jisung's lips found his ear. "Come for us."

The command, whispered against his skin, was all it took. Chris arched between them with a broken cry, spilling over Jisung's fingers as Changbin fucked him through it.

Changbin followed moments later with a groan, burying himself deep as he came.

Jisung chuckled, watching them both with dark, satisfied eyes.

Chris lay boneless between them, breathing ragged, skin still tingling.

Changbin pulled out slowly, pressing one last kiss to Chris's slack mouth before collapsing beside him. Jisung stretched out on Chris' other side, fingers trailing absently through the mess on his stomach.

The room smelled like sex and sweat, the air thick with satisfaction.

Chris closed his eyes as Jisung's lips brushed his shoulder, Changbin's arm heavy across his waist.

The leather bed creaked faintly as they shifted closer.

Silence settled over them, broken only by their slowing breaths.

Jisung stretched lazily, his fingers tracing idle patterns across Chris's stomach. "You good?" he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction.

Chris nodded, still catching his breath. His skin felt oversensitive, tingling where Changbin's arm draped possessively over his waist.

Changbin pressed a kiss to his shoulder before rolling onto his back. "Better than good," he said, voice thick with exhaustion and smug satisfaction.

Jisung smirked and reached past Chris, trailing his fingers down Changbin's chest. "Someone's proud of himself."

Changbin caught his wrist, pulling him into a slow, filthy kiss over Chris' spent body. Chris watched, dazed, as Jisung melted into it, all lazy tongues and bitten-off sighs.

The air was still thick with heat when Jisung finally pulled back, lips swollen, pupils blown. He glanced down at Chris with a slow smirk, then deliberately licked a stripe up Changbin’s throat.

Chris groaned. "You two are fucking insatiable."

Changbin’s laugh was low and warm as he dragged a possessive hand down Chris’s side. "And you love it."

Chris closed his eyes, still feeling the ghost of tattoo ink, gloved hands, and the way c’mere somehow still sounded different coming from Changbin.

Somewhere outside the room, the bell above the shop door jingled faintly despite the sign.

None of them moved.

note: I have no shame

#Where is HR 😭😭#delicious thank you

platypusundercover

Jun 12

collisiondust

BinChan Drabble: Proposing to my boyfriend (fail) (gone wrong)

Chan loves Changbin in a lot of ways. He loves Changbin with morning breath and crusted eyes, loves him sweaty and with food all over his mouth. He loves Changbin when he’s so laser-focused on work that he doesn’t even notice the horse in the room. Literally. Jisung put on a horse mask one day as a prank—it’s a long story.

Chan loves Changbin even when he continuously disrupts the rare trips he takes without him with multiple calls throughout the day under the guise of missing him, when really he needs help figuring out the washer, the TV, the aircon.

Chan loves Changbin right now as he’s taking photos of the sunset on their beach walk like his grandmother would. Leaning back and holding the phone unnecessarily far out just to squint at the screen. Chan wonders not for the first time whether he needs to schedule an appointment at the optometrist for him. His fingers curl around the ring box in the pocket of his linen pants.

“Hey handsome,” he flirts somewhat sarcastically, because that’s just how they are. They love each other in quiet, every-day gestures. Overly dramatic declarations of love don’t suit them. The fancy dinner they had and the romantic beach walk is already kind of overkill for them, which is why Chan was so surprised when Changbin enthusiastically agreed to the idea right off the bat.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Chan bumps their shoulders together and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Not for long,” Changbin mumbles, his eyes nervously straying to the time in the top right corner of his phone.

Chan’s face falls. “What?” His fingers flinch away from the ring box like it burned him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” Changbin replies ominously. He checks his messages, then the sky. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Chan’s stomach turns upside down like he’s about to throw up. Does he… Is he gonna dump him? Did he agree so enthusiastically to this atypically lavish dinner date because he wanted to soften the blow? Is this a breakup-date?!

Changbin walks ahead, but Chan doesn’t follow him. Ten happy years… or is that just Chan? Sure, nothing is perfect. They’re both thick-headed workaholics. Even when they’re fighting, they’re practically attached at the hip to the point where they’ve been accused of codependency more than once. But Chan has always found comfort and reassurance in their partnership, in a world that is otherwise so scaringly fast-paced and unpredictable. Changbin is his haven, his home. Has he grown bored of him?

The wind cools the hot tears on Chan’s cheeks. He hates nothing more than crying in public.

“Hey, are you—” Changbin stops and turns around. Chan can’t see his face through his tears. “Babe, are you… Baby?” Changbin hurries back, stumbles and almost face-plants into the sand.

“Yeobo, hey…” He takes Chan’s trembling hands. The tender pet name just makes the knot swell bigger in his throat. “What’s wrong, why are you…”

“We—we can work on this,” Chan chokes out. “Please, we can work this out, I… I’ll do anything, Bin, please, just give me the chance…”

Changbin frowns and blinks at him. “What?”

“Do I work too much? I’ll cut back. Do I… Is it my control issues? I’ll go to therapy, I’ll be better for you.”

“But you’re perfect—”

“You can leave your dirty socks on the floor and I’ll move into the office so my snoring doesn’t keep you up and I’ll do all the dishes from now on just, please, please don’t break up with me!”

Changbin draws a sharp breath. “Who said anything about breaking up?!”

“You!” Chan cries and hits his chest. “What the fuck do you mean you won’t have a boyfriend for long, what—”

Realization dawns on Changbin’s face. “No! Nononono—” He hastily fumbles in the chest pocket of his blazer and pulls out something eerily similar to the ring box in Chan’s own pocket.

“Chan-hyung? Will you—oh fuck—” He trips trying to go down on one knee and drops the ring box in the sand. “Wait, shit—”

Chan watches his pathetic scramble, shocked out of his cries, and gapes at the ring Changbin finally manages to present.

“Marry… me?” Changbin heaves like he just ran a marathon. “‘Cause—you can’t be my boyfriend if you’re my husband, get it? I guess the joke didn’t really land without context, hah…” He sheepishly clears his throat, his ramble fading into a barely coherent mumble like it does when he’s very, very nervous. “This went totally different in my head…”

“Bin…” Chan wipes the tears and snot with the back of his hand and shakily pulls his own ring box out of his pants just for the words to get stuck in his throat as he goes to kneel with Changbin in the sand.

“Oh!” Changbin’s eyes and mouth form a perfect O.

“Great minds think alike, huh?” Chan chuckles, snotty and teary.

“I, uhh—” Changbin stutters. “I did not prepare a script for this.”

“Will you…”

“Yes!” Changbin answers before Chan can even finish the question. “Will you…”

“Of course,” Chan replies just as quickly before they fall into each other’s arms. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Changbin sniffs into his neck. “You’re my home, Chan. I would never break up with you.”

“I wouldn’t let you.” Chan squeezes him as tightly as he can, just a little demonstration in case he ever thought about running away.

“Does the offer of leaving my socks on the floor still stand or…”

“You wish!” Chan laughs and pinches Changbin’s waist.

“It was worth a shot,” Changbin giggles, wiping tears out of the corners of his eyes. “Damn, you completely derailed my plan. I wanted to do it further down the shore by the rock formation, Jisung is waiting there with a camera…”

Chan laughs and points over Changbin’s shoulder. “That Jisung?”

“Hyung, wait!” Jisung is running towards them with a bloody knee and flailing arms. “I took pictures of the crabs while waiting and slipped on a rock and—wait!” He comes to a halt in front of them and gawks at the open ring boxes. “Did I miss it? Did you already do it?!”

“I’m sorry Jisung, we had a misunderstanding and—”

“That’s not fair, I wanted to be there!” Jisung pouts. “Do it again!”

“What?” Chan huffs in disbelief.

“Again, do it again!” Jisung demands and points the camera at them. “It doesn’t count unless I’m here!”

#THEM!!#binchan #I love them fkdkzklc #skz #fics

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