one of these days...

[endonucleases]

...i swear i will expand on at least one of these properly. i haven't edited these at all so please bear with me (シ_ _)シ

lu han is jealous. canon(?) i love these gifs btw

Yixing’s over again. He’s pulled Lu Han’s desk chair to the foot of Minseok’s bed, straddling the back of the chair which is leaning against the wooden bed frame. The chair looks unstable in that position. Yixing probably shouldn’t be sitting like there.

Maybe he should go back to his own room.

For safety reasons, of course.

Not because Yixing’s fingers are pressing into the soft, white flesh of Minseok’s neck. Not because Yixing’s thumb is rubbing slow circles through the recently trimmed hair behind Minseok’s ear in a disgusting display of intimacy. And absolutely not because Yixing’s face is floating a few centimeters above Lu Han’s roommate’s face. If the breath from your nose is rustling the bangs of another person’s face, then you’re probably too close, right?

After forcing his eyes down and back on his phone, Lu Han turns the volume up a couple notches on his phone so Park Shinhye’s voice might drown out Yixing’s whispers. Probably some more of his classic aegyo-that’s-not-really-aegyo bullshit and fake concern for their team’s eldest. What a sycophant.

He unplugs the earbuds from his ears in frustration. Kim Woobin might as well be speaking Portuguese in his perfectly fitted cardigan with how much Lu Han just understood. He’ll try to watch tomorrow when he’s less distracted.

“Lu-ge, you look tense,” Yixing slurs quietly in Korean without even looking away from Minseok’s face. “Was the episode not good?”

“It was ok, just a bit frustrating.”

“Do you want a massage too?” Yixing’s fingers stop their ministrations as he turns his head, breaking his gaze for the first time what felt like an hour.

Minseok looks as relaxed as Lu Han’s ever seen him, almost comatose, but at the stillness of Yixing’s hands, his eyes flutter open. “Abandoning me already?”

Yixing looks back down, an insuppressible grin blooms across his face. Lu Han’s eyes narrow slightly, and the look of adoration that they share mutes his ears so he doesn’t even hear what Yixing says that earns him a gentle slap on the top of his head. Lu Han comes back to his senses when the thought occurs to him that he might be projecting.

And that brings about it’s own set of problems.

college au where layhan are fwb [lu is the natalie to minxing's drew and amy, and literally no one will understand this reference]

Yixing smirked against the corner of Lu Han’s mouth; he had expected it to taste a bit more like beer and less like coffee. In an inelegant display of drunken impatience, Lu Han had shoved a hand beneath the band of his underwear within the first minute of being invited into his dormroom. He hadn’t even bothered to unbutton Yixing’s jeans first so it was a tight, and more than a little uncomfortable, fit.

“Hey, take it easy there, tiger. We have all night,” Yixing mumbled as he wiggled his hips away.

“But I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” It comes out breathy and needy but also strangely cute and whiny, which is so different from how Lu Han is when he comes over during weeknights to play cards or watch movies on Yixing’s laptop.

Well if you’ve been anticipating this all day then why did you spend the entire night at a house party before knocking on my door, Yixing wanted to say, but instead he just gripped Lu Han’s wrist to firmly guide it out of his pants, telling him to get comfortable on his bed.

It was unlikely that his roommate Kris would be coming back tonight if the pattern of the last three Fridays was any indication. It’s always better to be safe than be interrupted by his towering oaf of a roommate walk in slack-jawed and stuttering, which would be kind of a boner-kill. No matter how cool Kris says he is with the whole gay roommate thing, Yixing is pretty sure he doesn’t want to see them balls-deep in each other. So considerate, he internally praises himself, as he slips the car air freshener over the outside Handle of their door.

When he turns around, he’s greeted by a shirtless Lu Han sprawled out confidently on Yixing’s twin bed with his Hands tucked behind his head.

“What? I was hot.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Yixing walked over to the side of his bed and nudged Lu Han’s shoes out of the way with his feet.

“Can you at least take off that sweatshirt before getting into bed?”

Yixing obliged, pulling the soft plush over his head and revealing a plain black tank underneath. Lu Han shuffled closer to the wall and soon was resting his head on Yixing’s right bicep. With his free hand, Yixing traced Lu Han’s spine from neck to tailbone, collecting a light mist of sweat along the way. He could feel a foreign heart beating wildly against his chest slightly out of time with his own.

“Did you run here?”

“I might have sprinted the last block or two.”

Lu Han threw his right leg over Yixing’s abdomen and pushed himself onto his bed partner, his naked chest landing with a soft thud. Sucking on Yixing’s bottom lip, he started dragging his hips in a slow wave,Yixing’s hands resting on the outside of his firm thighs just along for the ride.

“And did you have this boner throughout this late night workout?”

“Well not the entire way.” Yixing felt more than heard the words. Lu Han was murmuring some more soft words against his jaw in his slow journey south, something about the taste of his skin.

“That’s actually a huge stroke to my ego to have someone literally running after my dick.”

Lu Han chuckled and Yixing felt cool bursts of air against his collarbone. When his lips reached the edge of Yixing’s tank, which was already stretching the limits of elasticity of the straps, Lu Han pushed himself into a sitting position. Yixing groaned as the wet warmth of those lips had only been a fingertip length away from his nipple.

“Less talk, more undressing.”

Lu Han cupped his Hands over the Hands over his thighs, entwining their fingers and leading both sets over Yixing’s head.

Yixing kept his arms obediently raised as Lu Han struggled to drag the hem of the offending tank top even a few inches. Yixing squirmed and contorted trying to reduce the pressure of his back against the bed. Eventually Lu Han managed to force it over Yixing’s toned shoulder, only to get it caught on Yixing’s chin. Yixing shook his head from side to side in an attempt to free his face but it didn’t do anything but make him look silly. At least that’s what he assumed when he hears Lu Han’s giggles.

When Lu han’s clumsy fingers finally manage to disentangle the bunched up fabric from his face, he takes a huge gulp of air as if he’s kicked up from the bottom of the depths of a deep lake. It takes a couple seconds for his eyes to readjust to the light.

“So are you gonna make my workout worth it or what?” Lu Han smirks, again starting his slow rhythmic rutting against Yixing’s inner thigh.

lu han is an elementary school teacher in korea; yixing is their school's art and music teacher.

“So hypothetically if I were to agree to a date, what would we do?”

It takes a couple seconds for Lu Han to regain access to the linguistic centers of his brain. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Every Friday Yixing comes into his classroom to chat and help sweep the dulled, scratched up linoleum tile floors and wipe down the desks that always without fail are coated in some unidentifiable sticky film. During the course of this ritualized cleaning, they ask about weekend plans and Lu Han always proposes a date and promptly receives the same exasperated answer.

“I told you I don’t date coworkers,” Yixing explained after second time Lu Han offered exclusive all-access pass to his dick. Back then, Yixing still had an air of apology about his refusals.

Don’t shit where you eat was the terse and decisive response that came after what Lu Han wants to say was his seventh try. To which he quickly retorted, “You’re telling me you’ve lived 24 years of existence without experiencing the joy of eating a bowl of ice cream on the toilet while watching music videos on your tablet?” He still remembers the taste of that unidentifiable sticky substance when some smudged onto his lip when Yixing threw a rag in his face in mock disgust.

Lu Han likes to think that he takes every rejection with a charming amount of levity. Not charming enough to, say, actually earn himself a real date but sufficient enough to maintain a working relationship and a functional friendship with the music teacher that teaches his kids twice a week. He has gotten so used to deflecting that he’s almost forgotten that he is actually completely genuine in his attempts to woo Yixing. The shock he feels at Yixing’s sudden serious response is testament to just how genuine he actually was - and is.

“Well? Were you just pulling my leg this entire time or do you actually have somewhere you wanted to take me?” Yixing asks, his fingers still holding an unknown chord onto the fretboard of his beat-up Fender. Yixing was in the middle of composing a song about the fauna of Australia and Africa to teach Lu Han’s first graders in preparation for their annual class trip to the zoo.

“I was being serious.”

Lu Han’s mind is moving at light-speed. He had an ever-expanding archive of mental footnotes he’s made throughout the last year in Korea: live cafes, gardens, restaurants, offbeat coffee shops, scenic mountains, and other assorted oddities he tagged “Places to Show Yixing” and tossed away into a messy pile in some dusty, abandoned corner of his brain.

“So where would we go?”

“What theme do you want? We could do the hip and casual date, or the ‘one with nature’ thing, or the formal and romantic, or the active, sporty theme, or…”

“You were going to make me pick?” Yixing asks in mild offense. The return of the suppositional tense does not go unnoticed.

“Hey, look all I’m saying is that I’ve had an entire year of endless, ceasing, neverending rejection to collect a lot of potential date ideas so cut me a break.”

“Okay, you don’t have to give me a detailed itinerary,” Yixing strums down and sings, “but you should at least tell me how I should dress~” His fingers adjust and another downstrum follows. “So I don’t show up in my Converses~ to a five-star restaurant~ Oh no no no~” He closes his eyes and moans out a bluesy tune.

Lu Han couldn’t help it but he laughed. On a teacher’s salary, an expensive Western restaurant with bottles of wine that sold for more than a month’s salary didn’t even enter his mind as a potential date spot. Besides, it never seemed like Yixing’s style anyways. Lu Han once filmed Yixing give a deathly serious but mostly favorable, three minute long food review comparing the items on Lotteria’s value menu to Burger King’s.

Yixing’s face is unmoved.

“What? You don’t think I’m worth a five-star restaurant?” he challenges, setting his guitar back into its case. Lu Han knows he’s joking but there’s still an unshakeable and visceral fear that Yixing will rescind his agreement.

“Wow, money has changed you, Zhang Yixing,” Lu Han gasps, in over-affected outrage, “but you know what, seeing as how I like you so much, you better put on your best suit and tie because you’re gonna get the full Lu Han date special.” Lu Han speaks as if he even knows what the full Lu Han Date Special even is and he can tell Yixing isn’t convinced but he figures has about 24 hours to work out all the details.

chanxing finger fetish in some vague college au featuring chinaline. very very remotely inspired by this nonsense


This particular outing with his Chinese class wasn’t particularly fun, Chanyeol has to admit. Usually he has at least one of his other countrymen with him and that is usually enough to tip the scales of the conversation into Korean. Since it’s just him, tonight has been one endless string of frustration and inside jokes and Lu Han’s half-assed translation.

Half-way through their third pitcher of beer and at the end of their second round of the Son ByungHo game, Yixing whispered something to Kris as he was chugging his punishment. Something that made Kris choke on his punitive beer and made Lu Han burst into uncontrollable, raucous laughter.

Chanyeol slapped Lu Han’s chest with the back of his hand.

“Fanyi, fanyi…” he pleaded to no avail as Lu Han struggles with breathing.

Zitao slings an arm over his shoulder and slurred very slowly in his limited Korean.

“A long time ago… Yixing hyung… and Kris hyung…” Tao stammered, quickly running out of words. “uh… peppers...”

“Sucked cock,” Lu Han clarified, finally able to reign in his mirth, “Yixing. Sucked. Kris’. Dick.” Lu Han was always the most well-spoken within their class’s so-called Chinaline.

Chanyeol was now even more confused. He never thought about Kris or Yixing as gay. In fact, he never even thought about Yixing and sex in the same line of thought. Although that might have to do with the fact that Chanyeol hard thought about Yixing in any context… like ever.

“Ah, I see…”

“No, it’s not like what you think…” Kris’ face was a collage of warring emotions. Chanyeol could make out bits of embarrassment, defensiveness, fear, and amusement. If he looked closer, maybe he could pick out arousal and anger too. “Yixing and I aren’t together. Not gay.”

“Pfff,” Lu Han and Yixing simultaneously scoffed, suppressing their incredulous laughter in a mist of saliva, some of it hitting Chanyeol in the face.

“I don’t think being on the receiving end of a blowjob from another guy is gay,” Kris clarified.

Zitao rolled his eyes. “Oh boy, here we go again. A blowjob is sex. Sex with a guy is gay. End of story.”

“You’re just responding to stimuli! If you used a vibrator while jacking off, does that mean you’re mechanosexual or robosexual?” Kris’s voice cracked by the end of his desperate plea, kicking off another coughing spree. Yixing patted his back sympathetically, dragging a glass of water in front of the flustered giant.

“That’s different and you know it!” Tao’s voice also went up another octave.

“This guy once told me that it’s only gay if you make eye contact,” Lu Han mused to himself. He gave Kris a suspicious look, “so did you look Yixing in the eye while he was sucking you off?”

“No!” Kris responded automatically. Chanyeol was skeptical at the lack of thought that went into his answer.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“I still don’t understand how you could even keep it up, Kris,” Chanyeol continued, “Like, even if you close your eyes the whole time and try and picture a hot girl down there, I just don’t think I could trick my body into believing that it’s not another dude.”

Drunk Yixing is a lot different from Sober Yixing. If it made any sense, alcohol somehow made Yixing better at Korean and more open with his thoughts. And Chinese Drunk Yixing is even more different, but the last few minutes of debate, Yixing’s been acting strangely sober.

“Why do you need to pretend it’s a girl? Why isn’t another human’s willingness to try and satisfy you sexually enough to turn you on?”

“I think I’m too straight for this discussion…”

“And I think you seriously underestimate your fellow man,” Yixing recited the words like a poem.

“I seriously doubt that.”

Annoyed, Chanyeol tried to stomp out the small flicker of hostility in his gut and reached for the pitcher to fill Lu Han’s empty glass. He was interrupted by a set of cold fingers, much smaller than his own, unraveling his fingers from the handle. Before he could make sense of anything, he meets Yixing’s eyes. He gets trapped in the emotionless serenity in those half-lidded eyes and as such, doesn’t notice the warm wet embrace that Yixing was now giving his pointer finger.

Chanyeol felt disconnected from his body, like the finger he could clearly see attached to his wrist, attached to his arm, and disappearing between the plush flesh of Yixing’s lips, was not his. Maybe that’s why his body couldn’t react to pull it away, because it was no longer his to control.

He couldn’t hear. Couldn’t feel. Couldn’t register anything.

After the shock of being plunged into the world of sensory deprivation, his body came back alive, all the switches and nerves and cells in his body alight with activity, as if trying to make up for the lost time.

The pucker of Yixing’s lips at the base of his first knuckle that Chanyeol could see, he could also feel as a comforting tightness. The simultaneously smooth and rough surface of Yixing’s tongue undulating slowly beneath the pad of his finger. The foreign wetness of Yixing’s mouth seeping into the cracks of his fingerprints and traveling up his arm and flowing to all his extremities. The light suction pulling at the sensitive skin. Yixing was infiltrating his body, and Chanyeol was helpless to stop it.

It took an eternity, but finally Yixing closed his eyes and slowly released the captive finger.

Before he could fully dry Chanyeol’s finger on his sleeve, Chanyeol was gone in a cloud of Tao and Lu Han’s fiendish laughter.

[ days later, after much soul-searching ]

“I’m really sorry. I was really drunk and I didn’t…”

“Hyung, stop.”

He cupped Yixing’s neck in his left hand, bringing him a few steps closer, and brushed his right thumb over the ridges of Yixing’s bottom lip, tracing the border between the dry outer lip and the dewy skin on the inner wall. Yixing’s jaw grew slack, quickly welcoming and receiving Chanyeol’s silent appeal.

The sensations were the same but different this time. His thumb, Chanyeol found, is a bit less sensitive than his pointer finger. This time he could feel the slight pinch of Yixing’s teeth between his cuticle and joint.

Yixing’s mouth seemed less comforting this time around. The suction that was so gentle and sultry last time was now angry and severe. He could see his whole hand moving with the rhythmic push and pull of Yixing’s oral maneuverings. Yixing’s gentle grip on his fist tightened slightly as he felt his hand being twisted as his thumb scraped the gentle bite of Yixing’s front teeth and disappeared completely.

Yixing’s tongue was insistently pushing along the back of his thumb, pushing the pad against the roof of his mouth. This time Chanyeol didn’t feel so passive. He concentrated and bent and rubbed his thumb against the roof of Yixing’s mouth. This action only seemed to spur his hyung to be even more proactive, his tongue moving up and down wildly and curled into a tight semi-circle, latched on tightly to every bump and curve of Chanyeol’s thumb. It didn’t take much for his brain to reroute all the sensations to his lower extremities. With each lick and suck, his pants grew tighter.

Without warning Chanyeol groaned.

Yixing blinked, releasing the wet and swollen finger in an unattractive mess of drool.

“This isn’t what you want,” Yixing stated, rather than asked. Without looking down, Yixing undid the button of Chanyeol’s jeans but suddenly stopped, resting his thumb on the zipper and cupping Chanyeol’s bulge with the rest of his fingers. “Tell me when to stop.”

Chanyeol held his breath, afraid that even a slight exhalation could be mistaken for dissent. After a beat of silence, Yixing pushed his thumb down, dragging open the zipper. Chanyeol moaned as the vibrations of the unzipping metal teeth agitated his sensitive member.

The inside of Yixing’s mouth was everything he imagined and still unpredictable. His small fist, pumping in short quick rhythms at the base as his tongue lazily mapped the tip of Chanyeol’s cock. He could see Yixing’s jaw slacken as he prepared to work further down his length. Yixing unraveled his fingers and drifted them down to massage Chanyeol’s sac.

Even before Yixing was on his knees, Chanyeol’s balls were clenched embarrassingly tight to his body. It had been a good year and a half since his last girlfriend dumped him and even longer than that since his last blow-job, so his body was hypersensitive to any sexual contact. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve been embarrassed by his supposed lack of stamina but now he considered it a blessing. Yixing had done him a favor, a service, by not making him explicitly ask for what he wanted. Now, he had to do his hyung a favor too by not making him suffer on his knees for much longer.

He felt his fingers tingle as his cock was nestled between the familiar ridges of the roof of Yixing’s mouth and the adept movements of his tongue. By the time Yixing’s lips had reached the base, each bob of the head released a delicious squelch as his mouth hollowed around Chanyeol’s thickness, trying unsuccessfully to keep all the juices from leaking out of his mouth.

Suddenly Yixing withdrew completely, his lips swollen and the sheen of saliva smeared across his cheeks and chin.

“I need you to come in my mouth, Chanyeol-ah.”

Need. Chanyeol had to close his eyes to level out his breathing at the sound of it. He never forced his partners to swallow before, but he’s never heard a plea like this. With renewed sense of purpose, he met Yixing’s gaze as his lips wrapped around his cock again and started sucking with a frantic pace.

“I-I’m close, hyung,” he stuttered, as he felt fingers skittering across the sensitive skin of his balls.

Yixing probably already knew that though, as his hands cupped Chanyeol’s shaking knees. Chanyeol hips involuntarily lurched backward as he felt his orgasm rush over him. The tip of his twitching cock brushed past Yixing’s soft lips, spilling the last few drops of his come on those same lips.

Yixing kneeled forward on all fours, and from Chanyeol’s point of view, it looked like he was in pain. Before being eaten up by his guilt, Yixing stood up and met Chanyeol’s eyes as he swiped a finger over his wet lips and sucked the the liquid off of his finger.

Chanyeol wasn’t sure what he wanted to do or what these feelings were, but he knew that he didn’t want to kiss Yixing.

Without thinking, he grabbed Yixing’s hand and dragged a tongue between his fingers. Yixing closed his eyes, his face completely relaxed and content, and Chanyeol didn’t feel so bad anymore.