#cs.writings

“for a d-defamation lawsuit to turn out success- fuck!” from the moment your resolve slips, you regret it, almost going as far as to complain verbally, if you didn’t already know better.

talking back will only get you punished, and not in the way of whips and chains and all things spice, but in the way of being left high and dry, pussy wet and unfilled. 

cold air brushes up against your sensitive folds as the man beneath your desk pulls away from your sopping core. you glance down in time to catch the way he swipes his tongue over his lips, collecting the juices you’ve covered him in, in as little as the three minutes he’s been down there.

he’s looking at you with one eyebrow raised, expectantly, awaiting you to correct the error of your ways.

“did i tell you to stop reading, princess?” his voice, the way the gruff in it curls over his words and his beautiful lips move as he speaks, sends a fresh rush of arousal down your nerves.

“no, mr. choi.”

“and what did you do?” 

“stop-” you start, only to do the very thing you said when you jolt in your seat, moments after he’d blown air onto your pulsating heat, torturing you with the minimum amount of pressure against your clit. it takes a deep, calming breath on your end to centre yourself again. “i stopped reading.”

“tsk.” his response worries you. so vague, you’re yet to figure out if he’s going to even bother continuing with the pleasure he was giving you. as if sensing your unsure nature, the drag of his pointer finger over your soaked entrance becomes his answer to the unasked question. “how am i supposed to know you’re studying the notes i gave you if you do that, hmm? do it again and we’ll have to cut the tutoring lesson short today.”

he could have whispered the words and you still would have heard him loud and clear. your eyes reluctantly snap back to the textbook instead of staring down at the sight of him between your legs, hair perfectly slicked back and begging to be messed up, tie undone and hanging from his neck, shirt sleeves rolled up his arms and straining against the muscles of his forearms.

“the act of defamation occurs when someone makes a false and harmful statement...” you begin reciting the words again, after you’d cleared your throat.

as san’s face lowers back onto your aching cunt, you remind yourself over and over to read, just read. that’s all he wants you to do and, in exchange, he’ll take you to heaven with his tongue. but oh, it is so much easier said than done. your hands soon find a grip on the edge of the desk, a place to root yourself down while his tongue drags over you lazily.

“there’s two different types of defamation-” his tongue teases at your hole and you want to beg him, scream at him to shove it- or any other part of him- into your cunt, walls clenching around nothing but your own wetness, causing it to ooze out onto your tutor’s waiting tongue. “libel is the name given to any defamatory words that are written...”

“my princess has the prettiest pussy.” a hand snakes it’s way up your leg, wrapping a tight grip around your thigh before he props it onto his shoulder. when his tongue finally breeches your walls again, it’s at a whole new angle than earlier, and that alone has you wishing you could throw the textbook off your desk only for you to bend over it while mr. choi takes you from behind.

“slander is spoken defamation, and often more trickier to prove in court...” instead, you keep reading so that he’ll keep eating.

“what would your dad say if he knew this is what you use our tutoring sessions for, huh?” san continues to taunt you between licks of your cunt, switching his focus between your hole and your clit. he’s trying to get you to disobey him. “if he knew his dear friend who he asked to help his pretty little daughter get accepted into his law firm has actually been teaching her how to take a proper cock? oh, and just imagine his face if he knew that i fucked you under his very own roof.”

“d- defamation cases are often costly and are a long procedure...” you can’t help it when, instinctually, your hand flies down to tangle itself in his perfectly done hair. instead of pushing you away like you’d thought he would have, san only closes his eyes and let’s out a moan as you tug his hair, face nestling itself deeper between your legs and causing his nose to bump against your clit.

“you have no idea how much i think about you, baby.” his free hand lands on your heat, cupping it as he pulls back to stare up at you. “got me wishing i could have you every hour of the day. that you were mine alone to touch, and fuck, and kiss.”

“w-what would-” you become brave suddenly, spurred on by the moment of vulnerability from the man between your legs, looking so much more at your mercy than ever before, like he’s begging to worship the only goddess he’ll ever know. “your son, or your ex-wife, say if they knew you were doing this, hmm? that you took on an apprentice only to corrupt her?”

“you were corrupted long before i got my hands on you, y/n.” he smirks up at you, only to chuckle when he thrusts a finger into your cunt, no warning, and you gasp, tugging on his hair again. “the only thing i’ve done is show you how good sex can be when you’re doing it with someone experienced instead of some sweaty frat-boy who finishes in two minutes and doesn’t even know where your clit is.”

“you’d be surprised, some of them are better than you give them credit.” you’re lying, without an ounce of shame about it. and it’s more than worth it to see the way his eyes darken, his eyebrows frown, his hand picks up the speed that his finger thrusts into you.

no warning comes when he inserts a second finger. 

“really? can they make you beg for their cock like a bitch in heat?” he doesn’t bother to stall any longer, head diving back down between your legs to shut you up.

his mouth latches onto your clit, rolling it between his lips and prodding at it with his tongue while he continues to fuck you with his hand. a third finger enters you and you throw your head back, body curling off the leather of your desk chair while you tighten your grip on san’s hair.

“mr. choi, please.” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for.

“yeah, just like that. a little slut begging to be fucked full, that’s all you are, right? and no one knows how to give you what you want but me.” every whine, moan of your voice, every time your walls tighten around his digits, it strokes his ego and keeps him giving you more, more, more.

when the coil in your body is so close to finally snapping, he rips his hand from you. it’s a moment of devastation only, until you feel his hand, soaked in you, clasping around your other thigh and dragging it over his shoulder too. then his tongue is back in you, drinking in every bit of essence your quivering hole offers him.

when you cum, it’s with your body more sat on him than the actual chair, hands on your ass and holding you against his face as his tongue continues to work you through the electrifying feeling, nose bumping over your clit every so often. while your jaw is slacked open in a silent scream, san makes no attempt to hold back the moans and grunts ripping through his chest.

“shh, shh, i’ve got you.” he coos when he rises from under your desk, lowering your still quivering body back down onto your chair. you have half the mind to wonder if he’s a completely different man to the one who’d been buried between your thighs minutes ago, as he brings up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. instead of a smirk or a scowl, he wears a smile, even when you feel his fingers dip back between your swollen folds.

“mr. choi, i need a break first-”

“shh, it’s okay.” and you believe him, as he retracts his hand and brings it up to your mouth, commanding you to open it. your eyes flutter shut as your mouth wraps around his fingers, tasting yourself all over them. “so pretty, aren’t you?”

you can only nod, so relieved he gave you what you wanted even though you’d stopped reading. you’re unsure how long he lets you sit there with his fingers in your mouth but him removing them brings you back into the room instantly. coating your cheek in your own spit-mixed cum as he cups it, he leans down to place a kiss on your neck.

“i need to go make a quick call but, when i come back, i expect you to be naked on your bed, ass up and face down.” this time it really is nothing but a whisper, yet you hear him loud and clear.

“why?” it seems like a silly questions to ask, when you already know exactly why he wants you in that position.

can be both hard and soft depending on the mood 

can be both hard and soft depending on the mood 

marking (giving and receiving)

choking kink

restraints/bondage (giving)

but try to tie his hand to headboard and see what happens

*big praise kink (receiving but also giving) 

body worship (giving)

if he had a really bad day can be sadistic

and his pace becomes really intense 

you are in it for some overstimulation

bonus

gets very cuddly post sex

aftercare with him is a bit rushed

just bc he wants to get in bed again cuddling next to you

it doesn't take a genius to see you're infatuated with san's mouth.

before the romantic side of your relationship had even sprung to life, back in the days where you both dismissed the butterflies in your stomachs as hunger and dizzy feelings as dehydration, there was a never ending urge to watch the pink of his lips, never able to pin point what quite exactly drew you to them in the first place.

maybe it's the way they seemingly unconsciously curl up into a grin when he's got byeol sitting in his lap, tail curling around his thigh and chest erupting purr after purr as he runs his fingers over her fur. all the while, he's cooing out love filled words aimed at the feline who's been part of his life far longer than you have.

he never fails to remind you of the first time you met the cat, her hissing every time you so much as dared to touch your boyfriend's hand.

but then there's the times when he's struggling to hold back a high-pitched, voice-cracking laugh as he pretends to not notice whatever shenanigan one of the other ninety-nine liners is getting up to, something that no doubt has the ultimate goal of frustrating poor seonghwa, who's just trying to read his book in peace.

it always ends with him doubling over while the cutest squeals escape him, eyes forced shut under the force of his wide smile and hand covering his mouth in a failed attempt to muffle his laughter as the eldest in their team of eight begins chasing the perpetrator- more often than not wooyoung- around the living room, book in hand when he threatens to beat some knowledge into his younger brother.

there's days where san's got the energy of a child, bouncing on the balls of his feet and striding off in every direction, you not too far behind thanks to the unbreaking grip he's got on your hand, not tight enough to hurt but enough to get one point across: he wants you close. he may not realise it himself, but on those days he talks sporadically, like the words can't leave him fast enough, like he'll forget everything he wants to say if he doesn't get it out immediately.

and so he talks, and you listen, eyes stuck between staring into his pretty eyes and the way his lips move when he speaks, how you can almost see the lisp that makes itself known when san get's a little too excited, a little too passionate about the words he's saying.

to this day, you still manage to pull a bashful smile and the faintest shade of pink on his cheeks when you remind him of how the lisp was present when he confessed his love for you.

there's other kind of days with san, though. days that break your heart while, at the same time in a paradoxic kind of way, make the beats of it speed up. it's on those days where san rarely says a word, body spent from weeks and weeks of non-stop schedules, throat sore from singing the same words over and over, mind too tired to conjure up intelligible sentences. the only thing he can bring himself to do is pull you closer under the covers, grunting in frustration with the sunlight peeking in through your bedroom curtains as he buries his head further into the crook of your neck, those lips that you love so much barely grazing over your skin in a way that sends chills up your spines.

at some point in the day, he'll ask you to talk and when you reply with an airy laugh and about what, he'll nuzzle closer- if even possible- and tell you anything, everything. he just wants to listen to you talk, wants to know you're the one who's arms are holding and healing him back to the man he is. and maybe, just maybe, he wants to hear the way your breath hitches when his lips apply the slightest of pressure on your skin.

there's the fights, too, like any healthy couple. tipically about petty indiferences, and scarcely about anything too serious. san's made it clear, not just to you but to most if not all he holds dear to his heart, that he hates going to sleep with unresolved issues still in the air, believing it's bad luck to end the day off on an angry note. it's why problems in your relationship tend to be resolved as quickly as possible, with the pair of you rarely finding the need to scream your points across an empty room just to be heard. he's taught you to see how much more effective it is just talk it out, sitting across from one another, hands intertwined in a way that allows his lips to place reassuring pecks to your knuckles whenever he notices your eyes welling with tears.

he never wants to see you cry, much less be the reason for your tears, not after the most infamous and worst fight in your relationship. truthfully, he can't remember why or what it was about, a vague memory of him mentioning your lack of understanding towards his career requirements and you countering that he fails to understand how hard it is to work every little detail of your relationship around the fact he's living out his dream. on that night you'd stormed out of the dorm, not even returning the wave good-bye yeosang gave you on the way out, a faux-smile on his face as he attempted to pretend the rest of the members hadn't heard every word you and san had spat at each other inside his and yunho's room. the last thing on your mind as you'd struggled to sleep was the way those lips you loved so much had curled down into a frown while he bit back his own tears, hands clenching and unclenching at his side while he struggled to find space to make his next point, for once not thinking about how to end the fight but, instead, win it.

weeks later, the scene that had unfolded between you in the very same room you'd fought in was overwhelming enough to make you both forget. hands on skin and clothes being thrown idly in to whatever dark corner of the room. his hands all you feel, his cologne all you can smell, his lips all you can taste. san's never been good at articulating in moments of extreme emotions, mind tending to shut down when a certain feeling became too intense. it's why he says nothing when his lips drift further from your own, dancing down the edge of your neck, over the expanse of your chest only to pause for a brief second, pulling away for a breath of air, glancing up at you with burning eyes and swollen lips, lips that latch onto one of the hardened buds on your chest, tongue swirling over it in a rhythm no one else but you two know as one of his hands comes up to pinch the other nipple.

much like his views towards fights, san rarely likes to start something he can't finish. he's enamoured with the amount of time you'll lay pliant under him, let him push every button on your willing body, the pair of you losing hours in a haze of lust, hours where you're reminded over and over of possibly why you like his lips so much, especially when they're between your thighs, tongue lapping up every drop of sweetness you let free like you're the holy grail and drinking from you is the answer to eternal life. when he's using them to let out sweet nothings and disgusting vulgarities that have you blushing for weeks after. when he finally can't hold back anymore, a surge of power bursting through your chest at the sight of such a composed man losing it all over you, hips stuttering in the final throws of his own pleasure and mind no longer quite working in tune with his lips, so many things he wants to say that simply come out as repeated pleases until it all builds to a crescendo where he reaches the ultimate level of euphoria, brain too fuzy to care about the fact he's just come inside of you with no form of protection, too busy rushing to capture your lips with his own and-

"hello? earth to y/n!"

the devil himself snaps you out of your train of thoughts and you jump at the sudden proximity. sitting crosslegged on the floor of the practice room, you'd expected san to still be moving his lithe body to the beat of whatever song plays through the speakers but, instead, he's crouching with his knees bent, accentuating the muscles of his thighs under the grey sweatpants. a veil of sweat lines his forehead, dampening the roots of his hair and you think, right now in this moment, that he's never looked as handsome as he does smiling at you from behind his mask, a sparkle of happiness in his eyes and tenderness in the way he reaches forward to pinch your cheek.

"what were you thinking about, hm?" his curiosity is so innocent, birthed by the simple desire to know what had you so distracted that you failed to notice him calling your name four times in a row. you wonder if it would change if you let the truth out, if the wideness in his eyes would soon switch to those familiar cat-like slits he stares down at you when he's got you on your knees for him.

you swallow at the thought.

"nothing important." you lie, he's everything important.

"hmm, are you sure?" san's hands reach for your own on instinct, both of you aware yet never voicing the fact you struggle to be near each other without physically feeling the other. "if there's something on your mind, you can talk to me. you know that, right? i like listening, especially if it's you."

you dismiss him with a smile, hands ripping away from his own to pull down the mask hiding his lips from you. you unveil the sight of his cute pout, perhaps the thing you love most about his lips.

"the only thing on my mind right now is kissing you." san seems to melt into your palm as it runs over the expanse of his soft cheek, back no longer straight and knees falling forward to hit the floor.

"good, because i've been trying to find an excuse to kiss you since you interrupted my practice."

instead of pointing out the fact he'd texted you, whining at you to hurry to the company building with some form of street food before he dies of hunger, you lean up and close the little distance between you. for a moment, you wonder if the way he always smiles during the first few seconds of a kiss is the reason you love his lips so much.

but you know you'll never know the true reason why you always want him to kiss you more or why you're so fascinated by the way they move when he sings.

you can live with never knowing, so long as it means getting to love all the other parts of him too.