#nct chenle

renjun:

loves making you squirt, you always get so dumb and cock drunk before you do. he has you in mating press, hands tied to your ankles as he knows you like to try push him away when it gets too much in this position, but not tonight, as he’s on a mission. you’re cheeks are flushed, sweat clinging to you, your tongue lolling out and you just look so spent. his hand is on your cheek wiping away stray tears and he laughs a little at you. “look at you sweet thing, all fucked out” you try and look at him but when he’s hitting that gummy spot inside your eyes cross and your head falls back. “what’s got you so dumb pretty baby?” your chest heaves as you try answer him “da… daddy” he’s surprised at the name, you’ve never called him daddy before but in your fucked out state you’ve clearly lost all ability to control your words. he goes with it as he brings the hand that was on your cheek to rub harsh circles on your clit and you sob hard. “daddy’s making you feel this good? you gonna show me?” you let out a long moan listening to just his voice and the wet slaps of skin on skin. he watches as you rattle your wrists against the ropes around them and your ankles and lets out an evil laugh. “whatcha doin silly girl? you know you can’t get out”. your eyes roll back at his tone, so condescending and belittling and you keep babbling the new name you gave him. the sharp snap of his hips and his fingers tight on your clit has a scream drawing out of you, voice cracking and broken. he feels the swell of your tummy and desperate clench of your pussy trying to push him out but he just thrusts deeper and harder, the knot in your belly snaps and hot liquid shoots out coating his dick and abdomen. he keeps thrusting through it, making it splash and you’re full on crying, hot tears streaming down. once he’s sure you’re finished pulls out slowly and paints your lower tummy with his seed, smearing it in with your own. “such a messy girl”. he unties your limps and you’re immediately reaching for him and he brings you into his lap, cradling you

“daddy’s here baby”

jeno:

jeno loves playing with your pussy, watching you leak around his fingers, pussy on show for him, glistening and puffy. he’s got you arched over his lap, facing his feet, pussy on display right in front of his face. his long fingers toying with your clit, swiping his palm and fingers over it, covering your sensitive skin on your slick. both hands coming up, thumbs spreading your pussy open slowly for him to watch as strings of your arousal spread and across. you would close your legs if it wasn’t for the fact his torso was between them. “daddy please, need to cum, please let me” a gentle hand comes to caress your ass cheek giving it a light pat. “i know angel, just let me see you, look so fucking pretty all spread out like this for me” you softly nod your head against his knee, letting him draw out his torture. “good girl”. he dips his head a little to get a better view of you “pussy’s so swollen baby i know you’re so pent up, doing so good, promise i’ll make you cum real soon”. he licks his middle and ring finger and draws them over your rim before dragging slowly down and over your hole up your slit making you whine and your head falls back to his knee. he doesn’t miss the way your toes curl when he brings them back up to your puckered hole. “you like that baby? like when daddy touches you here?” you let out a shaky breath as he adds slight pressure. “y-yes! fuck! feels so good daddy” he hums sweetly and he wets his fingers again, then spits down on your hole. he begins to press his middle finger in, the tight stretch makes you let out a shriek but that doesn’t stop him, he just lets out a groan as he watches as you slowly suck him in. “god baby every bit of you was just made for me, sucking daddy’s finger in so nice” all you can do is hold onto his calves tightly. after more teasing and touching he rewards you with 3 fingers in your cunt. pumping them in and out at a brutal pace his face coming down to lick around your tight rim. you’re moaning out as he laps his tongue in between your cheeks as his fingers don’t let up, hitting your sweet spot over and over relentlessly. fingers scissoring and curling inside. after a few bites to your ass cheek as well as all the relentless teasing earlier has your orgasm approaching fast. faster than you can comprehend as before you can think or warn him your cunt is squirting and spraying over his lap and he rubs your pussy through it. he talks you through it, cooing and praising while slowly bringing you back down to earth. you sit up and lay against his chest heaving, ass damp from sitting in your squirt on his lap. his hand comes down the front of your stomach and in between your legs again making you twitch. “daddy… can’t…”

“let daddy show you how proud i am of you baby”

haechan:

prides himself on being able to make you squirt almost effortlessly, all it takes is some clit play n you’re like putty in his hands. his fingers spread you open, middle finger coming up to tease your clit, he could spend hours like this, just his hand in your shorts, while you rut desperately beside him. his strong fingers are circling and pinching at your clit. 10, 15, 20 minutes go by and he’s still not even pressed his fingers inside you yet and your shaking. “daddy you-your fingers… feel so good” he smiles sweetly down at you “yeah? feels good when daddy plays with your sloppy cunt?” you mewl at his words and nod your head. he alternates between gentle circles with the pads of his fingertips, to splayed out hands rubbing manically over your clit. you cling to his bicep while he works his fingers. all it takes is a little pinching and hard pressurised flicks before he hears the soft hiss of your orgasm. his legs trap your thighs before you have the chance to close them and he keeps going, drawing the liquid out of you for longer, even when you think it’s over a couple more taps to your clit and you’re spraying again. you think he’s gonna just stop there? oh no, now is when he finally pushes into your pussy, fingers pressing in slowly and liquid seeps out, soaking his wrist. “did you just squirt from me sliding my fingers in? baby you’re pathetic”. you hide your face with his bicep and he starts pumping slowly, overstimulation takes over and your going limp against him, pussy spurting non stop while he finger fucks you slowly. “i’m barely touching you and you’re gushing” his degradation sends another hot wave to your core and it sprays out harder this time, like the first one and he huffs out a scoff. “you’re real nasty huh? who would’ve thought my pretty girl was so fucking disgusting, squirting all over me like this and from what? a bit of degradation and my fingers?” your eyes squeeze shut and he picks up the pace. fingers brutally snapping against the spot that has you seeing stars. he can see when you’re about to cum again, and he leans in, mouth wide, catching it in his mouth before holding your jaw and forcing your mouth open, spitting your juices into your mouth and watches you swollow.

“that’s it, don’t fucking waste it baby”

jaemin:

another eater! he loves eating your pussy. your hands in his hair or flailing around by your head as he dives in. he’s holding your legs up to your chest with on strong arm, pussy exposed and ready for him. he likes it messy and sloppy, spitting onto you head bobbing and shaking. sharp sucks on your clit and tongue pressing hard into you and it makes you see stars everytime. “daddy loves eating this pretty pussy baby, so sweet for me” he’s back in, slurping up your arousal. he looks up at you with those evil eyes and you can feel his wicked grin against you. every time he pulls back to admire you, your hips buck up trying to catch any form of friction. he licks hot stripes and spits down hot globs of spit on to you before his shit eating grin spreads across his face again, getting close to blow cold air on your clit making you sob, “daddy! please! feels so good!”. he can be really evil. after what felt like hours of him staring up at you, locking eyes as he ravishes you like you’re his last meal, he sits back and and watches as you squirt. the position makes it shoot up and back at you, covering you. he lets out a deep menacing laugh. you reach out for him with a long whine of his name, “daaddyyy…”. he takes your hand and with his free hand gently swipes the droplets off your face.

“look at my messy bunny~ squirting all over herself”

chenle:

he’s really disgusting. after watching you accidentally pee on yourself drunk, months ago, all he wants is to see you piss all over himself and you, so here you are, riding him. he’s holding your hips bouncing you up and down on him, and he’s got your hands cuffed behind your back. you have been going for a few rounds but the new position has him hitting deeper with the help of gravity, his cum and yours sticking to you where your connected and makes gross sticky strings whenever he lifts you up. “look at you~ daddy’s baby all sticky huh?” you lull your head in an attempt to nod yes, overstimulated to the point where you can only focus on the sound of his voice, not the words he’s saying. that is until your orgasm approaches and you cum with out warning, warm sticky cum coating his dick, you expect him to slow down, come to a stop after multiple rounds. but all he does is rut into you faster. “d-daddy- too much- daddy! need to-“. he licks his lips happily, “need to what baby?” you whine and try to free your hands from your cuffs. “need to pee! daddy! please!” he brings his hand down to your belly and presses down hard and you shake your head no desperately. “what’s wrong? thought you had to go? come on baby piss on daddy. make a mess” you clamp your eyes shut trying to focus on anything but the aching need to piss in the bit of your stomach “c-can hold it” he cocks an eyebrow at you and presses down harder and a little piss dribbles out “you sure about that princess” you drop your head to his shoulder and cry into his neck right by his ear. the sounds of your desperate sobs, pathetically trying to free your arms to push yourself off him or hold onto your cunt to stop yourself from pissing, it was heaven to him. you feel him laugh, chest shaking with delight. you let out a soft please hoping to reason with him but his mind is set, and what he wants he gets. after a few more thrusts your body goes limp, tired from tensing every muscle to stop yourself, you’re not sure what’s piss and what’s squirt, liquid gushing out splashing his thighs and the floor beneath you. it’s hot running down your thighs and legs and you’re crying hard with embarrassment. he lays you face down on the edge of the bed and rubs your clit through your orgasm and your legs shake and stomp trying to get away as more and more liquid spills out of you. once it comes to a stop chenle is uncuffing you and bringing you into his lap and holds you while you cry and hide your face

“pissed so much for me angel, such a good girl”

jisung:

jisung loves watching you come apart for him. holding your vibrator to your clit as his fingers work you open. hes been edging you for a good while now, pulling the toy away whenever he feels you clench. “prettiest girl in the world baby, doing so good” you whimper as you look up at him. he’s fully dressed while you’re completely bare and spread for him. you hiccup slightly, holding back tears. “daddy please” you look and sound so tiny laid out in front of him, “please what pretty baby? tell me what you need” you gulp “please need to cum, can’t take it” he pouts down in faux sympathy “yeah? too much?” you nod your head lazily and he pulls the vibrator away making you whine and buck towards it. “hmm, if it’s too much then why is your pussy begging for it?” you whine again and twist your hands in the sheets. he smiles softly before putting the toy back on you and you moan out and jerk. “just a little longer princess, you just look so cute just can’t stop watching you” you huff and lock eyes with him, your eyes wet and tears threaten to spill. “awe baby don’t cry, promise it’ll be worth it” you nod your head and lean back. when he slightly shifts the vibrator to catch more of your clit your back arches and your hips try get away but he’s quicker, keeping the buzz right on your sensitive nub. “ah ah baby… you wanted this, come on, beg a little more for me” you let out a broken choked out moan before trying to speak. “p-please daddy i need it so much please give it to me, please- fuck! daddy! so good!”. jisung hums in approval and watches you as you writhe. he pushes his fingers back into you and can feel you flutter around him. “you’re close huh?” “yes! please daddy please let me-“ before you can finish he turns the vibrator up higher and you’re screaming, coming undone, release gushing out of you. he takes the toy off and uses his fingers to spread your folds and it splashes and sprays up and drops on your chest and stomach. he rubs you through it as more drools out of you in after shocks, once you’re fully done he keeps circling your clit softly, dragging the pads of his fingers across your slit and folds, spreading your juices. he slows down and comes to a halt and he shows you his dripping fingers.

“told you it would be worth it sweetheart”

you’re sick of it.

sick of the half‑assed excuses, the “i’ll make it up to you, babe” texts, the cold side of your bed because basketball practice ran late again. the sport isn’t the villain here, chenle’s priorities are. so tonight you decide to speak in the only language that ever slapped any sense into him: pure, weaponized pettiness.

you dig into your closet to find the box tucked behind an old hoodie. the custom set you spent a whole week sewing in the campus fashion studio—his cropped jersey perfectly tailored to end right above your ribs, his number stretched neatly across your chest, tight little shorts that ride up high enough to give anyone with a pulse an aneurysm, and tube socks that reach your knees but do absolutely nothing to hide how much skin is on display. 

you originally designed it as a birthday gift for chenle, something psexy and playful, the kind of outfit that should not leave the bedroom.

but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“you want to play, baby,” you murmur to yourself, lip tugging into a smirk as you tug the top down over your chest, admiring how your careful stitchwork hugs every curve. “let’s play then.”

twenty minutes later, you're outside the gym where chenle’s practicing. you can hear echoing laughter, the thump of basketballs, and the sound of sneakers squeaking across the court. chenle’s voice cuts through it every few seconds barking out plays or teasing his teammates, totally oblivious to the chaos about to walk through the double doors.

you adjust the hem of your very customized uniform and tug the waistband of your shorts up an inch, just enough to make your ass cheeks peek out more.

when you swing the gym doors open, a dozen jaws detach from skulls in real time. one guy bricks a layup so hard the ball ricochets off the backboard and clatters to the floor.

chenle basically inhales the water he was drinking the moment he sees you strut onto the court in the tiny jersey you stitched yourself. he doesn’t even manage any words at first, just blinks slowly.

you beam, stepping closer. “hey, baby!”

he moves toward you quickly, fingers gripping the hem of your jersey and trying to tug it down. “what the hell are you wearing?”

“your uniform, duh!” you say innocently. “remember you said i could come practice with you sometime?”

“yeah—but not…not like this!” he hisses, glancing sharply over his shoulder. his teammates aren’t even pretending to look away, their eyes glued shamelessly to every exposed inch of you. chenle groans, turning back to you in disbelief. “jesus christ, y/n.”

you spin slowly, letting him admire your handiwork. “i made it myself. do you like it?”

his eyes narrow, but they still flick down to watch your chest bounce beneath the tight fabric.

somewhere behind him, jaemin whistles low and appreciative. “yo, chenle, if you don’t want her, i’ll gladly take her on my team.”

chenle’s jaw clenches. “let’s go,” he mutters, gripping your wrist to lead you off the court.

but you plant your feet, looking up at him through your lashes. “lele, you promised you’d teach me,” you pout, your voice sweet and pleading, exactly the tone you know breaks him every single time.

you see the storm raging behind his eyes, the internal battle he’s clearly losing. after a long, tense pause, he finally gives in with an irritated sigh.

“fine,” chenle groans, running an exasperated hand through his hair. “i’ll teach you.”

he tries to sound firm, tries so damn hard to keep his cool but his voice cracks the instant you bend down to grab a stray basketball. every single set of eyes follows as your shorts ride dangerously higher. chenle practically growls under his breath.

“eyes up,” he snaps sharply at his teammates.

you hide a satisfied smirk, straightening up slowly and tossing chenle the ball. “so, how do i shoot?”

he glares at you, conflicted. he knows exactly what game you’re playing, but it’s too late to back down now. he steps close, muttering something unintelligible under his breath and positions his hands firmly on your waist. his fingers flex possessively against your skin making heat spark low in your belly.

“bend your knees,” chenle instructs tightly. you comply, feeling him tense behind you as your ass brushes firmly against him. he clears his throat roughly. “now raise your arms.”

you do as you’re told, stretching slowly, feeling every pair of eyes glued to the way your jersey inches higher. someone coughs loudly and someone else whistles under their breath.

“like this?” you ask, feigning innocence as you toss the ball. it hits the rim and bounces away, but the guys clap loudly like you just dunked on lebron.

chenle’s jaw clenches. “yeah, like that,” he mutters through gritted teeth, pulling you close again. “try it again, but please don’t stick your ass out so much this time.”

you laugh softly, leaning back just enough to whisper in his ear. “why not? you like it.”

he groans quietly, his grip on your hip tightening in warning. “don’t push it, baby.”

just as chenle's hands tense possessively at your waist, a teasing voice interrupts from behind.

“yo, captain! why don’t we run a quick game? let your girl play too, seems like she’s picking it up quickly.”

chenle's entire body stiffens, eyes narrowing dangerously at the cocky teammate smirking across the court. haechan, obviously, never passing up a chance to stir shit up.

“yeah,” another voice eagerly agrees. “she can be on our team!”

“not a chance,” chenle snaps, glaring daggers at them. “she stays with me.”

you tilt your head. “actually, i think i wanna be on the other team. it'll be fun playing against you.”

he groans quietly, clearly torn between the urge to pull you away and needing to save face in front of the team. he runs a frustrated hand through his hair before giving in with a sharp exhale. “fine. first team to five points wins, then we’re done. keep it clean,” he warns, voice tight as he shoots a pointed glare toward his teammates.

the guys erupt in cheers, gathering quickly around you to strategize. haechan immediately drapes an arm lazily over your shoulder, pulling you closer than strictly necessary and making chenle visibly bristle.

“alright, newbie,” haechan smirks, eyes flicking playfully toward chenle. “just stand there looking pretty and we’ll handle the rest.”

you smile sweetly, leaning up close enough to whisper in his ear and making sure chenle sees every move. “oh, i can handle myself just fine.”

you catch chenle’s scowl deepening, his fists clenching at his sides. suddenly, the entire gym feels about ten degrees hotter, and you’re pretty sure it has nothing to do with basketball.

the game begins, and the team immediately spreads out, pretending to care about positions and plays, but half their attention is undeniably on you. you smile sweetly, dribbling cautiously, deliberately bending forward just enough to ensure everyone behind you gets a generous view.

chenle’s voice slices sharply through the gym, frustration barely restrained. “eyes on the damn ball, idiots.”

you stifle a laugh, heart thrumming with exhilaration. you might be new to basketball, but getting under chenle’s skin is a game you’ve mastered to perfection.

every bounce of the ball, every step you take, you can feel eyes following—chenle’s most intensely of all. he’s practically vibrating with jealousy, torn between defending against his teammates’ shameless stares and actually playing defense.

haechan effortlessly steals the ball from your boyfriend and tosses it your way, shouting, “take the shot, rookie!”

you catch it clumsily, laughing breathlessly as chenle lunges in your direction, eyes narrowed with determination. adrenaline spikes as you fake left, then slip past him with surprising agility. your lay-up is sloppy, but by some miracle, it actually swishes neatly through the hoop.

the gym erupts in cheers and whistles. spinning around with a triumphant grin, you lift your arms in exaggerated celebration. haechan immediately appears beside you, pulling you into an enthusiastic hug that lingers just a second too long.

“damn, captain,” he calls out loudly. “better watch out, your girl got sweeter hands than you.”

chenle’s eyes flash dangerously, jaw visibly clenching as he stalks across the court toward you. every step radiates possessiveness and simmering annoyance. you tilt your head innocently, knowing exactly what’s coming next and loving every heated second of it.

“that's it. practice over,” he announces sharply, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker rooms.

“aww, dude—” haechan starts, clearly amused, but chenle silences him with a glare that could kill.

you bite your lip, heart pounding with satisfaction. finally, you’ve pushed him right past breaking point.

exactly as planned.

chenle’s grip on your wrist is firm, bordering on rough, as he drags you past the swinging locker room door and shoves it closed behind you. the echoes of sneakers squeaking and voices laughing outside fade, replaced by the rapid thump of your heartbeat and chenle’s heavy breathing.

he turns sharply, backing you against the lockers, eyes darkened with frustration.

“what the hell was that?” he demands, voice low and raw. his gaze drifts from your flushed cheeks down to the ridiculously cropped jersey, lingering briefly on the exposed curve of your waist before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

“basketball practice,” you reply innocently. “you always said you wanted me to learn.”

“not dressed like this,” he growls. 

his hand finds the hem of your jersey, fingers grazing the bare skin underneath. he hesitates, visibly swallowing down his jealousy. “you really made this yourself?”

“yep,” you say lifting your chin proudly. “thought it might inspire you.”

chenle scoffs, but his thumb drifts in soft circles at your waist despite the scowl. “inspire me to what? murder my teammates?”

you giggle, fingertips dancing across his chest. “you’re jealous, lele. admit it.”

“yeah, i am,” he mutters sharply.

his grip tightens on your waist, pulling you even closer against him. “didn’t you see how those assholes were looking at you? like they wanted—”

“like they wanted what’s yours?” you interrupt softly, teasing a finger along his jaw. “maybe i just felt like reminding you of that.”

his breath catches, and for a moment, he just stares down at you. finally, he sighs heavily, tension slipping into something deeper, hotter, infinitely more possessive.

“well, consider me reminded,” he murmurs, voice raspy as his lips brush teasingly against your ear. “but you’re never wearing this again for anyone but me.”

you shiver, leaning into him as your voice drops to a whisper. “oh? and what if i refuse?”

he smirks dangerously, eyes glinting. “then i guess i’ll just have to make you.”

his mouth melts against yours before you can tease him again. the kiss is punishing, hard enough to erase every grin haechan shot your way and every greedy glance the team threw at your thighs. 

his hands roam without hesitation gripping your waist, sliding up under the jersey, cupping your breasts with a low groan. he breaks the kiss to mutter, “fuck, you’re not even wearing a bra?”

“would’ve ruined the look,” you whisper, breath hitching as his thumbs brush your nipples. “you like it?”

“fuck yeah i like it” he growls.

you gasp as he yanks the jersey over your head in one swift motion and places it in his pocket. his lips trail down your neck, biting at the skin there. “next time you wanna get my attention,” he mutters, voice muffled against your collarbone, “just fucking say so. don’t make me nearly kill haechan on the court.”

you giggle, threading your fingers through his hair. “where’s the fun in that?”

his eyes flash as he sinks to his knees, fingers curling into the waistband of your shorts. “i’ll show you fun.”

he tugs them down so slowly it's almost torturous and drags your panties with them. his breath ghosts over your inner thighs, his mouth following suit a moment later. he groans against your skin, licking a slow stripe up your center before wrapping his arms around your legs and diving in.

you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the moan that slips out. the locker room’s not soundproof, and the last thing you need is the team doubling back and catching chenle with his head buried between your thighs.

but he doesn’t care. he wants them to know. he wants them to hear you fall apart on his tongue, wants every single one of those bastards to understand that you’re his.

you’re already trembling when he stands back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and kissing you. his fingers curl under your thigh, lifting you effortlessly as he walks you backward into the coach’s office—a smaller room with a desk and a door that locks.

he kicks it shut behind him.

“bend over the desk,” he commands, voice low and dangerous.

you obey, heat pooling between your legs again as your chest hits the wood and his hands smooth down your spine. he’s rougher now, undoing his shorts with jerky movements, lining himself up behind you with no warning except a hot breath against your ear and the blunt press of his tip against your entrance.

“you wanna dress like a little slut in front of my team?” he rasps, gripping your hips. “then take it like one.”

he slams into you in one deep, punishing thrust, and you cry out, barely able to hold yourself up. each snap sends your hips jerking against the desk, the edge biting into your stomach.

“this what you wanted?” he pants behind you, fingers digging into your waist hard enough to bruise. “wanted to make me jealous? wanted to be the center of attention?”

you nod frantically, but it’s not enough. his hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back so your eyes meet his in the reflection of the office window that’s fogged up and smeared from the heat of your bodies.

“say it.”

“yes,” you gasp out, eyes glassy. “i wanted to drive you crazy.”

he chuckles darkly, chest heaving. “congrats, baby. mission fucking accomplished.”

his hand slips down, fingers finding your clit and circling it mercilessly. your legs threaten to give out, but he holds you steady, pinning you against the desk with his weight and the sharp slap of his hips.

“look at you,” he growls. “acting all innocent in front of my team, now falling apart on my cock.”

you’re close to your orgasm when suddenly, he yanks you back by the hair and pulls out with a wet slap. you whimper at the loss, but he’s already grabbing your hips nd spinning you around.

he spreads your legs and slides back in with a guttural moan. his hands come up, almost reverently, cupping the soft weight of your breasts as they bounce with every thrust. 

his thumbs brush over your nipple and then he leans down, mouth hot and greedy as he sucks one into his mouth, groaning in pleasure.

“fuck—” he pants, tongue swirling and teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt. “i can’t fucking think when they’re out like this. you know what you do to me?” 

your moans are strangled now. he’s sucking so hard, it s leaving deep red bruises all over your chest. he bites, soothes, sucks again. you clutch at his shoulders, legs wrapping tighter around him, and he grinds deeper, angling his hips to hit exactly where you need him most. his rhythm’s gone erratic, his obsession pouring into every snap of his hips, every bruise he leaves behind.

“look at you,” he pants, pulling back just far enough to watch. “bouncing all pretty for me. no one else gets to see this. no one else gets to fucking touch you.”

his palm slaps across your tit. hard enough to make it jiggle and watch the recoil as he thrusts in hard.

“fuck,” he groans, voice breaking. “you’re gonna make me cum just looking at you.”

your head lolls back, a whimper escaping your lips as his hand slides from your breast down to your neck, holding you still, eyes locked on the mess of you laid out under him—wrecked and panting and marked everywhere his mouth could reach.

you’re close again, tighter and hotter this time, clenching around him. your moans echo in the small office, filthy and raw, and he doesn’t even try to hold back now.

he fucks into you harder, mouth locked on your nipple again as he spills inside you, every muscle in his body tensing as he groans against your chest 

you’re barely coherent, mind hazy from the way he just fucked you over the desk. but chenle isn’t satisfied. not even close. he steps back to drink in your naked form, flushed and dripping with him.

his cock’s still rock hard somehow, twitching against his stomach, and his stare is nothing short of unhinged.

“lean back,” he rasps, grabbing your chin with wet fingers. “hands behind you. keep your tits up.”

you obey instinctively, legs falling open wider as you brace yourself on the desk, presenting yourself like the filthy little offering you are.

chenle just grins and crouches slightly, grabbing your breasts with both hands. and then he spits on your chest. hot, stringy spit right down the center of your, sliding between your tits and pooling under your collarbone.

“that’s better,” he mutters, eyes gleaming. “you look so hot covered in my spit.”

you gasp, chest rising as he does it again. letting it drip from his tongue while staring you down, and then he smears it in using his thumbs to rub it across your nipples.

you moan, high and wrecked. “lele—fuck—”

“look at your fucking face. you’re getting off on this.”

you are. embarrassingly so. he can see it in the way your thighs clench, and in the way your hips shift forward aching for more attention. he presses his cock between your tits now, sliding it back and forth while kneading them hard, thumb brushing over your nipple with every thrust.

“look at me,” he snaps.

your gaze locks onto his, dizzy and dazed.

“open your mouth.”

you do and he spits again, right onto your tongue.

“don’t swallow yet.” he growls, shoving his cock between your tits faster now, panting like a man losing his mind. “keep it there. hold it.”

you moan around the spit in your mouth, letting it dribble down your chin just to watch his eyes darken even more. chenle looks fucking deranged with lust.

you moan when the head of his cock slides forward, the tip just barely grazing your chin on the upstroke.

you glance up at him, lashes fluttering, and then you stick your tongue out enough to tease the head when it brushes close.

“fuck,” he hisses, thrusting harder between your breasts now, chasing that angle again, just to feel your tongue catch him. “you want it in your mouth that bad, huh? can’t even wait?”

his cock keeps hitting just under your chin, and every time it does, you flick your tongue out again and catch the tip, tasting the mess off his slit.

“fucking—fuck,” he curses. “do it again.”

you do and this time, you even suck lightly when he slows for a second, lips parting around just the head before he pulls back and keeps fucking your chest. his control is shattered now. his body stutters and twitches with every stroke.

you whimper, fingers gripping the edge of the desk behind you, mouth open and waiting.

“you love this,” he pants. “you love being used like this. letting me fuck your tits… drooling for my cock.”

“i love it,”  you whisper, lips glossy with spit and pre-cum. “i love how crazy you get when i do.”

he thrusts one more time and spills between your breasts again, ropes of cum painting your skin. you lean forward, tongue dragging through his tip. licking the cum off it slowly, like a cat drinking milk.

chenle nearly collapses, stumbling forward and pressing against your bare chest.

“you ever show up to practice like that again,” he murmurs, voice hoarse against your skin, “i’ll fuck you in front of them all. make ‘em watch while i ruin you.”

you whimper, still trembling beneath him.

“but for now,” he smirks, wiping your chin with his thumb and sucking it clean, “this mess stays just between us.”

you’re still catching your breath, body slick with sweat and spit and cum, when chenle leans in and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. it’s a jarring contrast to the way he just wrecked you against the desk, but that’s chenle. feral one minute, gentle the next. both versions still obsessed with you.

he puts on his shorts, pulls your jersey from the pocket and inspects it with a low whistle.

“you’re not putting this back on,” he mutters, shaking his head. “no fucking way.”

you smirk, chest still rising and falling as you look up at him. “why not? i worked hard on it.”

“you said you made it to inspire me, so i’m keeping it.” he crumples the jersey in one fist and shoves it straight into his pocket. “i’m hanging that shit on my wall.”

you laugh, weakly. “you’re ridiculous.”

he grabs his team jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, zipping it halfway up. it swallows your smaller frame, falling almost to your knees, sleeves covering your hands entirely. the way he looks at you—satisfied and possessive—makes it clear the outfit isn't negotiable.

“here,” he says, tightening the collar just a bit. “this is all you’re wearing now.”

you glance down at how the hem of the jacket just barely hits the tops of your thighs. you’re still wearing nothing underneath.

“guess i’m going commando,” you hum, teasing.

“yeah, but no one’s gonna know except me.” chenle grins, standing tall and adjusting your hair with stupid care. “let’s get you out of here.”

you barely make it out of the office when a low whistle slices through the silence.

the entire team—haechan front and center—is awkwardly standing there, pretending they haven't been shamelessly eavesdropping. 

“damn, took you long enough.”

chenle freezes, fingers tightening around yours so hard you nearly yelp. 

“i think you lost these,” haechan says, eyes sparkling mischievously as he spins something delicate around his index finger, your eyes widen with recognition.

your panties.

“found ‘em by the lockers. figured someone might be missing them.”

chenle’s face goes murderous in a heartbeat, jaw clenching so tight you're afraid his teeth might crack.

“give me those,” he growls, lunging toward haechan, who dances backward, keeping them just out of reach.

the boy chuckles, clearly enjoying every second of this torture. “you gotta be careful, man. wouldn’t want anyone else to find your girl’s cute little souvenirs.”

chenle lunges again, this time catching haechan’s wrist, wrenching your panties out of his grasp roughly. “i’ll kill you, dude.”

haechan just laughs, completely unfazed. he shifts his gaze toward you, his voice playfully taunting. “maybe next time you practice with us, try keeping these on? might help the captain focus a little better.”

you bury your face into chenle’s chest, half laughing, half dying of embarrassment. chenle just rolls his eyes, pulling you closer and guiding you down the hallway, past his shameless teammates. 

“you assholes got nothing better to do?”

“nah,” haechan replies smoothly, eyes twinkling with barely restrained laughter. “but it sounds like you two were pretty busy.”

the team snickers loudly, trying (and failing) to keep straight faces. chenle’s ears turn scarlet, but he keeps a protective arm tightly wrapped around your shoulders.

“fuck off,” chenle mutters darkly. “next practice, you’re all running laps until you puke.”

“worth it,” haechan teases, tossing you a playful wink. “good game, by the way.”

“practice tomorrow?” jaemin asks from behind, laughter bubbling beneath his words.

“fuck no,” chenle growls back without turning around. “we’ll be busy.”

as you pass the door,  haechan calls out, voice dripping amusement and challenge

“see you next practice y/n!”

chenle’s response is immediate, muttered darkly into your ear. “like hell he will.”

your cheeks burn from embarrassment—and exhilaration.