为了你 (kim_ri) wrote in veulixs,

Got you Stuck on my Body (Like a Tattoo)

Got you Stuck on my Body (Like a Tattoo)
Chanyeol/Kai, college!au | NC-17 | ~4k
They fight, they fuck, they love, but not necessarily in that order.
Fill for prompt here at exopromptmeme

got you stuck on my body (like a tattoo)

Chanyeol had warning signs flashing with every smile he threw at the party but Jongin ignored all of them, let Chanyeol slide in closer, a curious hand on Jongin’s waist as he leaned and asked those mundane, routine questions. You having a good time? Hey, what major are you? Wanna take a shot?

The last one -- let’s get out of here -- was more of a request than anything else, slurred in a way that Jongin only caught a few words here and there but it was enough for him to let Chanyeol drag him away. Jongin wondered if that was what drunk sex feels like; sloppy kisses that tasted of booze and shaking fingers that tore buttons off shirts.

“Shit, you’re hot,” Chanyeol had said that night, tongue still heavy with liquor and something else, as he licks along the line of Jongin’s hipbone. “Was hoping to get laid but didn’t expect someone like you.”

Jongin is an impatient drunk and it showed that night as he yanked Chanyeol down and aimed for his mouth. He missed but Chanyeol didn’t seem to mind, angling his head in just the right way as Jongin licked into his mouth.

Jongin’s had sex before but not like this: on his hands and knees as Chanyeol traced the ridges of his spine with his tongue, fingers wet with lube and crooked inside him. His pace was messy but Jongin didn’t care, wasn’t sober enough to care. “You’re tight,” Chanyeol huffed against his shoulder, his chest covering Jongin’s back. “I bet you wouldn’t even be able to take me, you’re so tight.”

Jongin scoffed -- or made whatever noise it is when one tries to scoff in the middle of drunk sex -- and was about to say, “I bet your dick isn’t even that big,” when Chanyeol suddenly pulled away. Jongin heard the sounds of zippers and clothes being tossed off the side of the bed (whose bed is this anyway, Jongdae’s? Oh fuck, he’s going to murder them) before something bigger and hotter than Chanyeol’s fingers pressed up against him.

“Do you even have -”

“Relax, I’m drunk but I’m not that drunk,” Chanyeol said. “I’m covered.”

Jongin didn’t have the ability to say anything witty back since all the neurons in his brain short-circuited the moment Chanyeol pushed in. Maybe he was right earlier because Jongin felt like he was being split in half, the unbearable stretch causing him to fall on his elbows. He pressed his face against a pillow and let it muffle his moan.

The stinging pain faded after while; Chanyeol had enough sense to wait for Jongin to adjust, hands gripping Jongin’s waist with enough pressure to bruise. “Move,” Jongin gritted out, hands fisting in the pillow.

The way Chanyeol pulled out achingly slow had Jongin’s breath hitching in his throat. He slammed back in and from there it was a blur of rough touches, hot breath against shoulder, the sting of nails digging into skin. All Jongin remembers is waking up to Chanyeol half on top of him, his head feeling like it’s been through a meat grinder.

He remembers Chanyeol grabbing a sharpie from Jongdae’s desk and scrawling ten digits on the inside of Jongin’s wrist. “Because you look like the type whose palms get hella sweaty and the thing will rub off,” he said even though Jongin rolled his eyes and explained that sharpies don’t rub off.

It was supposed to be that simple. A sort-of-not-really one night stand with too many shots and too many holes in his memories. It wasn’t suppose to be Jongin calling Chanyeol up a week later, fingers playing with the pages of his Chemistry textbook, asking hey, remember me?


They become a “thing”. It’s whatever happens in the aftermath of being fuck buddies for months, whatever follows up on Chanyeol staring down at Jongin one night out of the many nights they’ve spent together, face expressionless as he said, “I don’t want you fucking other people,” even though he was the only person Jongin was seeing. But he doesn’t need to know that.

It’s touch-and-go; they’re like magnets except they’re both repelling. But if you push hard enough, one of them will flip around and they’ll click, a perfect fit despite all the jagged edges they have around them.

“I should let you know,” Chanyeol whispered into Jongin’s ears one day, ignoring the whimper when his hips stuttered to a stop, “I’ve been known to be mean.”

“W-what --”

“If you’re expecting something romantic out of all this,” Chanyeol pulled out and before Jongin could protest, he’s flipping Jongin over onto his back, lifting his legs over his shoulder, and pushing into him until his cock was seated so deep inside Jongin he couldn’t breathe. “You’ve got another thing coming.”

Chanyeol fucked him that night until sunlight was struggling to shine through the blinds of Jongin’s room. Jongin felt an arm curl around his waist and thought this is nice, even though his limbs felt like they were melting right into his bedsheets. Chanyeol’s nice.


Nothing changes, really, when they step into the territory of relationship. Jongin’s still trying to get used to seeing Chanyeol as his boyfriend and not a friend who he calls over on Tuesday and Friday nights. They still fuck, but sometimes Chanyeol would show up on his doorstep, his attire changed from the usual hoodie and jeans into something a little nicer, and take him to a movie or a small cafe or club.

“... You and Chanyeol are dating?” Baekhyun asks when they’re in the library, flipping through newspaper articles for their journalism project together. “I didn’t know he was your type.”

“I don’t think I have a type, hyung,” Jongin says, frowning at the gray dust on his fingertypes.

“Well, I think you do and Chanyeol’s definitely not it,” Baekhyun says firmly. “He’s not very… boyfriend-material from what I’ve heard.”

“You must’ve heard a lot of things,” Jongin mutters before shoving a pile of movie critiques into Baekhyun’s arms. “It’s not even that serious right now, you know, we’re just…”

Baekhyun waves him off. “I’m just saying Jongin. Be careful. I’m not even friends with the guy but there’s something to be said about someone who’s dubbed the Heartbreaker around campus.”


Jongin sees the heartbreaker when Chanyeol blows him off nine plans out of ten and then turns around and expect Jongin’s schedule to be open whenever he’s free. “I have a stats exam tomorrow,” Jongin complains when Chanyeol shows up at his doorsteps already decked in tight fitting jeans and leather jacket.

“We both know you’re not gonna be studying for that tonight anyway,” Chanyeol rolls his eyes. He grabs onto Jongin’s wrist but Jongin twists away.

“I told you, I can’t tonight,” Jongin says, teeth clenched. Chanyeol stares at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The door slams shut and Jongin tries to quell his anger by burying himself in his notes. Chanyeol doesn’t text him or call him, and it’s past midnight when there’s a banging on his door. Jongin stumbles out of the bathroom with his hair still wet from the showers and in just boxers and a tank.

It doesn’t surprise him to find Chanyeol on the other side of the door, shoulders leaning heavily against the frame. His hair’s a mess and Jongin sees a bruise on his neck before Chanyeol’s shoving him inside, kicking the door close before pushing Jongin against it.

“I hope you studied,” he says, voice surprisingly steady for how inebriated he is. “Because you’re not going to get much studying done tonight.”

Jongin scoffs, hands already fisting in Chanyeol’s hair as Chanyeol presses his lips against Jongin’s neck. “Did you miss me?” he asks, tone teasing as Chanyeol grinds against his thigh, shoving him harder against the door. “I bet you did.”

“Ha, you wish.” Chanyeol grunts when Jongin rolls his hips forward, their erection pressed together. “Met a pretty little thing at the club, dances almost better than you do.

Jongin frowns, remembering the bruise on Chanyeol’s neck. He holds onto both of Chanyeol’s shoulder, lifts a leg to wrap around his waist, and grinds against Chanyeol’s crotch. “Oh yeah? Did you fuck him?”

Chanyeol’s already working at pushing Jongin’s boxers down to his mid-thighs, hand curling around his erection like it’s second nature to breathing. “Hmm, I could’ve,” he murmurs before leaning in, lips brushing against Jongin’s in a surprisingly tender manner. “But I didn’t.”

Then he kisses Jongin, hard, tongue working over teeth and cheek, sharp canines cutting into his bottom lip. Jongin’s already fully hard, precome sliding down the head and Chanyeol uses it to slick his hand and move faster, the lewd sound of wet skin on skin filling the apartment.

Chanyeol finger fucks Jongin right there against the door, lifting one leg so it rests over the crook of his elbow. He uses the lube from his jacket pocket, the cool liquid a shocking contrast to how hot Chanyeol’s fingers are. “You brought lube?” Jongin asks shakily, fingers digging into Chanyeol’s biceps. “You sure you weren’t planning on fucking anyone?”

“Oh, I was,” Chanyeol replies easily, breath warm against Jongin’s cheek. “I was planning on fucking you.”

They somehow migrate to the bed by some miracle; Chanyeol strips down to his briefs before pushing Jongin, who’s completely naked at this point, onto the mattress. He bounces slightly and then Chanyeol’s crawling on top of him, lips and teeth catching onto a nipple and sucking. Jongin cries out, fingers scrambling for purchase on the bedsheets. They end up curled in Chanyeol’s hair, nails scratching against scalp as Chanyeol flicks his tongue repeatedly against the nipple, and Jongin feels dizzy, the heat crawling up his chest, up his neck, and flooding into his cheeks.

“Hurry up,” Jongin whines, pushing at Chanyeol’s head. Chanyeol chuckles, pressing kisses down the middle of Jongin’s chest. He presses onto Jongin’s thighs, parting them as he takes Jongin’s dick into his mouth, tongue flicking over the slit before licking down the shaft. Jongin gasps, legs twitching as he parts them further.

Chanyeol lifts his head until just the head is in his mouth and he sucks, cheeks hollowing. Jongin lets out a strangled moan before shouting when Chanyeol takes him all the way in, the head of his cock pushing against the back of his throat.

“Oh fuckfuckfuck,” Jongin mewls, pushing at Chanyeol’s head. “I can’t, Chanyeol, I’m --”

He lets out a whine when Chanyeol wraps a hand around the base of his cock and squeezes tight. He slides Jongin out of his mouth with a lewd pop. “Now, we can’t have that, can we,” he says, smirking as he catching Jongin’s mouth with his. Jongin’s nose scrunches at the taste of himself on his tongue.

Chanyeol teases Jongin until he’s practically sobbing for it. Chanyeol finally finds a condom and lubes himself up, groaning because his dick’s been neglected this whole time in favor of bringing Jongin repeatedly close to the edge. Jongin’s still tight even after Chanyeol fucked him with four fingers, and Chanyeol wants to say something like remember the time I tied you up and fucked you through three orgasms? Yeah, I kinda want to do that right now, except in his drunken state it just comes out as a jumbled mess of curses and sighs.

Jongin winds his legs around Chanyeol’s waist in an attempt to pull him closer. Chanyeol shifts his weight off his hands and onto his elbows, his nose nudging at Jongin’s so he can meet his mouth. Jongin can barely keep his eyes open against the constant stimulation on his prostate, how Chanyeol’s cock feels hot and heavy inside him with each thrust.

“I could’ve fucked that boy like this, you know,” Chanyeol breathes against Jongin’s lips. He’s always talked the most during sex, especially when he’s drunk. “I could’ve bent him in half,” he lets go of Jongin’s waist to grab his thighs and bring his legs up to his shoulder. He leans forward so that Jongin’s legs are pressing against his chest. “I could’ve fucked him until he cried, he looked like someone who would cry.”

Jongin gasps when Chanyeol snakes a hand between their stomachs and runs teasing fingers up his cock. “Chanyeol -- just -- oh fuck,” Jongin cries out when Chanyeol lifts his legs off his shoulder and presses them on either side of his ribs, pressing them right into the mattress.

“You’re so flexible,” Chanyeol says almost admiringly. He’s smirking and there’s sweat running down the sides of his face and soaking his bangs. His pupils are blown, and Jongin wonders if he looks the same. “You take me in so good, you’re always so good for me.”

“Chanyeol,” Jongin whines, hands running up his chest to grasp at his shoulders when Chanyeol angles his hips just right and slams in, hitting Jongin’s prostate with each thrust.

“You can’t come until I say so,” Chanyeol says, voice low and dangerous as he bites down on Jongin’s clavicles. Jongin knows he’s close because his thrusts become erratic, the pace quickening until Chanyeol presses in all the way and stops, letting out a drawn-out moan against Jongin’s neck.

He’s catching his breath when Jongin pushes at his shoulder, his cock still hard and heavy against his stomach. “Chanyeol, please,” he whispers because he’s so close. Chanyeol pulls out slowly, and Jongin whines at the loss but then Chanyeol’s shoving three fingers back inside him, finding and pressing against his prostate as he takes Jongin’s dick into his mouth, sucking until the head is nudging against the back of his throat.

Jongin comes with a muffled yell, his back arching off the bed as he comes down Chanyeol’s throat. Chanyeol manages to swallow most of it, although some dribbles out of the corner of his mouth. He lets Jongin’s softening cock fall out of his mouth and then crawls up to kiss Jongin messily, come still thick on his tongue as he thrusts it between Jongin’s lips and licks the roof of his mouth.

“That’s gross,” Jongin says after Chanyeol’s pulled away to toss his condom in the trash bin. Chanyeol snorts and collapses on the bed, arms winding around Jongin’s waist and bringing him closer so that they’re pressed together, chest to back.

“You loved it, don’t even lie,” Chanyeol says against the back of his neck. Jongin thinks he feels the lingering touch of a kiss there but with Chanyeol he can never tell. He just lets the drowsiness in his bones lure him to sleep, Chanyeol’s chest warm against him like a blanket.


Sometimes it hurts.

Because Chanyeol’s the worst mix of possessive and flirty, his smile always looking the same no matter which girl or guy he’s teasing at a bar. Jongin tries to find a difference between the smile Chanyeol gives strangers and the smile Chanyeol only reserves for him. Then it turns into him trying to remember the last time Chanyeol smiled at him.

Chanyeol really isn’t a dancer but Jongin enjoys pressing his back against his chest anyway, his ass grinding back against Chanyeol’s crotch as he winds his arms back and around Chanyeol’s neck. Chanyeol always circles his arms around Jongin’s waist, hands sneaking up his shirt and pressing against his stomach.

But tonight, Chanyeol’s being pulled towards the mass of moving bodies by some girl with a belly button piercing and tattoos on her wrists, and Jongin’s left by the bar nursing a half bottle of whatever beer he chose at random. He glares at the two until he can’t see them anymore and sighs, eyes searching for the exit. Instead he sees another boy with wine red hair and a low-neck tank, die hippie scum printed in large letters on the front. He feels himself stand up and approach him, hands grasping the skinny boy’s waist without pretense and pressing him closer.

There’s no introduction; the boy glances over his shoulder and smiles up at Jongin, teeth straight and white. They start dancing, Jongin winding both arms around his waist and the boy pressing back against his chest. Jongin gets lost in the bass that’s shaking the floor of the club but then someone’s grabbing his shoulder and ripping him away.

Chanyeol’s behind him and he’s staring at the other boy. He doesn’t say anything as he drags Jongin away and out of the club doors, nodding towards the bouncer who gives them skeptical looks.

Jongin doesn’t yank his arm away until they’re almost at the car. “What the fuck, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol glares at him. “You think you can just dance with whoever you like?”

Jongin laughs, incredulous. “Oh what? You can grind with whoever throws themselves at you and you just expect me to watch? Fuck you.”

Chanyeol growls, and he actually looks murderous as he walks forward and grabs a hold of Jongin’s wrist again. “What I do doesn’t matter. You are not allowed, no one else can touch you.” He pulls Jongin towards the car and opens the door. “Get in.”

Jongin yanks his arm out of Chanyeol’s grasp and Chanyeol lets him go. “Can you even fucking drive?”

“I only had one shot, I’m fine,” Chanyeol snaps as he gets into the driver’s seat. The ride back is silent, Jongin seething quietly in his seat as he resolutely keeps his head turned towards the window. They climb up the stairs to their apartment, and Jongin just wants to toss his keys onto the kitchen table and collapse on the bed but Chanyeol grabs him before he can even get his jacket off.

“No one can touch you, do you understand?” he says warningly as he presses Jongin against the wall. He shoves his thigh between Jongin’s leg and pushes it up until he’s rubbing against Jongin’s crotch. “No one else can touch you except for me.”

Jongin pushes at his shoulder. “And you can touch whoever you like? You don’t see me complaining.”

Chanyeol levels him with a glare. He reaches up to grab Jongin’s hands and pin them by his sides. “Yeah, well,” he licks his lips, his knee almost digging painfully into Jongin’s erection, “what if I want you to.”

Jongin barely registers his words before Chanyeol’s pulling away and dragging Jongin along with him. He’s rougher than usual this time, shoving Jongin on the bed and climbing right on top of him, teeth nearly breaking skin as he kisses Jongin so hard their lips bruise. Jongin kisses back with anger, wants to spill all his frustration in the way he sucks Chanyeol’s tongue into his mouth and bites on it. Chanyeol pulls back with a yelp.

“Oh, you little fucker,” he growls, hands tearing at Jongin’s jean zippers.

He’s rougher in the way he barely stretches Jongin enough before he thrusts into him, the pain sharper than usual and Jongin tries to hide it, pressing his face into the mattress to muffle his groan. He’s on his knees and elbows, and he can feel Chanyeol’s fingers pressing bruises into his waist, a new collection to add to the old ones.

Chanyeol pulls out and flips him over before thrusting right back into him, hips slamming against muscled thighs. Chanyeol leans over, one elbow rested by Jongin’s head while the other runs down his chest, fingers flicking over a nipple. Jongin hisses, back arching off the bed. Chanyeol bites down on a patch of skin at juncture between his shoulder and neck. His tongue laves over the spot, and Jongin thinks he hears him mumble mine.

“W-what?” he stutters, chest heaving as he struggles to breathe.

“You’re mine,” Chanyeol says, louder, as he leans back and hooks Jongin’s legs over his shoulders. His thrusts slow until he’s just rolling his hips languidly, and Jongin nearly sobs. “You belong to me and no one else,” Chanyeol breathes, teeth latching onto his inner thigh, sucking on the sensitive skin until he’s sure there would be a bruise that would last for weeks.

Jongin comes first, streaks of white painting their stomachs. Chanyeol follows soon after, pulling out with a groan as he jacks off against Jongin’s thigh, their come mixing on Jongin’s stomach. Jongin barely has time to catch his breath before Chanyeol’s running his fingers through the mess and pressing them against Jongin’s lips. “Open up,” he coaxes, a smirk spreading across his face as Jongin licks his fingers obediently, moaning softly as Chanyeol presses them against his tongue.

Chanyeol uses Jongin’s shirt to clean up the mess and Jongin doesn’t have the energy to even complain. Instead he watches as Chanyeol sits up, his shoulder blades sharp as he hangs his head and lets out a deep sigh. He struggles to sit up but then Chanyeol’s turning around, his expression unreadable as he pushes Jongin back onto the bed.

“You need to rest,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss Jongin’s bruised lips.

“What you said earlier --” Jongin starts. Chanyeol looks at him, waiting. “You… you said…”

“I tend to be a bit possessive,” Chanyeol mumbles, lips trailing along Jongin’s cheek and down to his jaw. “I tend to be a dick and a jackass and every other permutation thereof.” He licks over the bruise on the Jongin’s shoulder that was left there from a week ago. “I warned you.”

Jongin nods weakly. “I know.” He wraps his hands around Chanyeol’s neck and brings his face up so that their noses are touching. “And I’m not going anywhere,” he says firmly. Chanyeol looks at him, eyes flickering over his face.

“No, you’re not,” he says finally, a smile breaking across his face. He pins Jongin beneath him, elbows on both side of his head. “Because you’re mine,” he growls into Jongin’s ear, teeth pulling on the sensitive earlobe. “You belong to me.”

Fear dances around the edges of Jongin’s conscience, the way Chanyeol’s low voice seeps into his bones, and it’s like there’s this unbreakable string attaching him to Chanyeol. “I’m yours,” he whispers and lets Chanyeol kiss him breathless, fingers tracing the paths between each bruise on his hips.


Jongin learns to read the warning signs; the way Chanyeol watches him out of the corner of his eyes even when he’s leaning to whisper into some girl’s ear. But Jongin pushes the boundaries anyway, loves seeing the way Chanyeol’s eyes would blaze whenever he catches Jongin hooking an arm around someone’s neck, pulling them in too close to be friendly.

Jongin pushes, because he knows when they get back, the first thing Chanyeol does is let him know what he’s done wrong by shoving him against the nearest wall or table, lips unforgiving as he pushes Jongin’s shirt up to his chest.

The sex that follows is always rough and fast-paced, like they’re going into some kind of war against each other. If Chanyeol’s feeling charitable, he’ll fuck Jongin on his back, hands touching him everywhere except where Jongin wants them. Chanyeol’ll fuck him like this, whispering the thoughts that went through him that night, things like I wanted to bend you over right then and there and fuck you in front of everyone, wouldn’t your friend enjoy that, hm? And Jongin will come without his dick being touched, whimpers escalating into coarse screams of Chanyeol’s name.

When Chanyeol’s genuinely pissed, he’ll have Jongin’s hands tied to the headboard and blindfold him so tightly Jongin feels like his eyeballs are being pushed into the back of his head. Chanyeol will tease him until he can’t tell which way is up anymore, choked sobs spilling from his lips whenever Chanyeol blows over the head of his dick but never taking him into his mouth or touching him at all. When he fucks him like this, raw and fast and it hurts, Jongin can’t even breathe, his chest falling up and down at a rate that would be considered dangerous. But sometimes Chanyeol would untie him and set him on his lap. He’ll lean against the headboard, watch as Jongin grinds desperately on his lap, feeling his cock deep and hot inside him.

“No one else can fuck you like this,” Chanyeol says, hand curled in Jongin’s hair as he crashes their lips together. Jongin can only whimper, his nods shaky as he bounces frantically on Chanyeol’s lap. His hands are still bound, the rope feeling like they’re cutting in his wrists as Chanyeol holds them bent backwards so they’re behind his head. His blindfold’s wet from tears and sweat. “No one else can make you feel as good as I can.”

It’s fucked up how turned on Jongin is whenever Chanyeol gets possessive like this, his cock twitching whenever Chanyeol growls low in his ear, nails scratching along his thighs.

“Look at all these bruises on you,” Chanyeol says, fingers tracing the purpling spots on Jongin’s stomach. Jongin feels his abs spasm at the touch and his thighs are burning from fucking himself on Chanyeol’s cock. “So pretty,” Chanyeol murmurs against his shoulder, “like little pieces of myself on you. Isn’t that romantic?”

He reaches up and unties Jongin’s blindfold, flings it over the side of the bed somewhere. Jongin blinks against the sudden brightness. And finally, finally, Chanyeol reaches down and fists Jongin’s cock, rubbing a thumb over the head and spreading the precome along the shaft to make the slide easier.

“Fuck fuck fuck, Chanyeol, please,” Jongin gasps. He brings his hands down to rest against Chanyeol’s shoulder and buries his head in his neck, feels more than hears the deep chuckle in Chanyeol’s chest. “Just let me come, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Chanyeol says, turning his head and pressing a precious kiss below his ear. He then licks the sensitive skin there and blows on it, smirks when he feels Jongin’s legs spasm next to his hips. “Come for me.”

Jongin nearly cries with relief when he comes all over Chanyeol’s fist and stomach, shoulders tense as Chanyeol milks him through it. He hisses when Chanyeol suddenly pushes him on his back and enters him again, pace frantic as he reaches his own peak, muffling his groan in Jongin’s neck.

They stay like that for a while, both catching their breaths. Chanyeol pulls out, groaning, and leans back, looking down at Jongin whose chest is still heaving. His hair’s a mess and his face is flushed, lashes still wet from tears. Chanyeol smirks, pushing a sticky hand through Jongin’s hair. His kisses, this time, are gentle and prodding. He slides his lips along Jongin’s cheeks and presses them against his ears.

“What did I tell you about dancing with other people, hm?” he whispers. He feels the shiver that runs down Jongin’s body and loves it.

“Only you can dance with me,” Jongin sighs, his throat sore. “Only you can touch me.”

“That’s right,” Chanyeol says, his left hand sliding down Jongin’s chest to rest on his stomach. He looks at the finger shaped bruises on his hipbones. “Only I can touch you.”

You’re mine gets lost in his throat when Jongin pulls him down, lips raw from so many kisses already but he sighs into it when Chanyeol rubs a palm against his neck.

It’s fucked up and twisted and there are so many ways it can all go wrong. But Jongin risks it for Chanyeol, pressing on the bruises left on his body like tattoos of Chanyeol’s name on his skin.

A/N: this is probably the smuttiest thing i've ever written lord give me the strength.

Tags: •kim_ri, ♠chanyeol/kai, ♥rating: nc-17

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