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.
and really...
what more could you have asked for?
🏷️: @hanniejjam @madaboutminho @hanstattoos @kloversung @franaby @bunbunbl0gs @hpnsfwaddict @cchapssaltteok @multi-fandommaniac @skzjii @chocolatepainterbear @ilikeypooh @yourfavfantasies @thepoeticpurplepotato @partyinthesadness @omgxitzxskz @in-a-daddy-state-of-mind-social @ljinhk @pinkflowerdream @fairylix @camryn-haitani @breadpuddingboys @minniesverse @suhfleur @pineapple-burgah @velechi @vondutchess4 @mimadymo @kaiyaba @emkvlixsx @zombie-nina @flickerfelix @seolarch @belladonna58375 @corruptedcai @radxdgal @innocent-artery @teenagecheesecakereview @leeknowswifey98 @jisuperboard @puzzlepiece-mp3 @lostinmymind-daydreaming @galamxy @shadykittyperfection @rihazzawoo @cutiecroissant @i-like-pandas5 @itsraininghyunebuckets @gnabsyou
