caicali

[caicali]

i hate men. thank God, han is a quokka (293739484) 🥰

[caicali]

downpour. han jisung (18+)

You’ve always been the only person who could take his frenzied energy and transform it into something tender, something meaningful. It’s why he’s here in the first place.

PAIRING. han jisung / f! reader GENRE. smut, fluff i think, friends with benefits WORD COUNT. 3.4k WARNINGS. strong language, explicit sexual content: protected sex, fingering, dirty talk & praise, pet names (baby)

NOTES. this was supposed to be less than 1k words because it was “for practice” but i don’t know what happened. this also has basically little to no plot, and it is not proofread. i hope you enjoy reading, nonetheless!

READ ON AO3. / MASTERLIST.

The desire comes easy, soft and relentless as the rain against the window.

Jisung knocks, once, twice, before the door swings open. The warmth of your home hits him harder than he expects, and his knees falter, unsteady from the abrupt change. His clothes stick to his skin, fabric drenched in cold rain.

But that doesn’t matter.

The kiss happens fast. Hurried, desperate. He pushes himself into your space, not even giving you a chance to speak and question his presence. A part of him feels bad about it, but he’s too far into his desire to stop. Especially not now, with his lips on yours and your body melting into his own.

It’s not like this is the first time he shows up unannounced. Not even the second, nor third. The past few months have seen a fair share of spontaneous rendezvous and nights tangled in sheets and unspoken words.

His hands trail down your sides, feeling the shape of your body on his palm and lingering at your hips. Deft fingers catch the hem of your shirt, and he lifts it slightly to find the skin on your waist. They stay there, tracing random but measured lines and he smiles into the kiss when he feels your body slightly twitching under his touch.

This feels too good, too fast. I can’t stop. Jisung feels his chest surge. I shouldn’t stop. All the thoughts in his head now fleeting, drowned by the heat of your skin, the pressure of your weight against his. His palms slide higher, brushing against the expanse of your stomach. He should slow down, he knows that. He doesn’t want to rush this. But I can’t help it. 

“Ji,” you try to pull away, but he keeps coming back. Coming onto your lips. “Ji– ah…”

Jisung nibbles on your bottom lip gently before giving you space only enough to whisper into your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, eyes wide. He struggles to focus his gaze on you. “I just… really need you right now.”

And he dives right back in. Harder, this time. A little forceful, but not to hurt you or break you. Far from it. It’s only enough to make sure you feel it, feel him. Enough to lose himself in your warmth, in the way it wraps around him and makes him forget about everything else.

You gasp his name when he licks a tentative stripe across the plushness of your lips. Each passing minute of you and him being all up in each other’s spheres, intertwined and feverish, is a step into your home. Jisung kicks your door closed, moving a hand momentarily away from you to click the lock shut behind him. Your fingers now trace his shoulders, jaw, cheeks, ears, until it settles on the nape of his neck, where you toy with the delicate, wet curls gathered there.

A wave of lovely chills ripple down his spine as he tastes a giggle from your lips. He moves away to see a grin forming on the curves of your mouth, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“You’re so hot in that white shirt, did you know that?” you murmur into the space between, casual and low. “Especially when it’s all wet and sticking to your skin.”

Jisung laughs, leaning forward to nuzzle a kiss just below your ear. His breath ghosts over your jaw, voice a hush against your skin. “Am I?”

He hums in satisfaction as you tilt your head slightly to accommodate him. He flitters another peck, then another down, and another until he trails a path back to your lips. There he kisses you once again, messy and sloppy, but short to let you keep talking.

“Yeah. But you’re making a mess on my floor, getting water all over,” you click your tongue. “Take it off.”

“Eager, are we?” Jisung teases, but he makes quick work of pulling his shirt over his head. Your hands immediately roam over his skin, caressing a brush-like touch on the places you know he loves most. His breath hitches when you close in to dart your tongue onto the flesh of his chest. “God. You–”

“Pants, too, please.”

The frantic pace gives way to something softer, something sweeter. Jisung loves that the air has begun to slow, and he finds himself savoring every second. His quick, rushed tempo in the beginning of the night is now down to a sensual, delightful pace. You’ve always been the only person who could take his frenzied energy and transform it into something tender, something meaningful.

It’s why he’s here in the first place.

Jisung begins to take his pants off, thumbs pushing against the button expertly before he haphazardly pulls the fly down. He shimmies it off his legs as he takes small steps back into your reach, appreciating the careful hand you help him with. His heart races, not just from the anticipation, but from the quiet ache inside him that only you can fill. He lets his pants drop to the floor, his rain-drenched clothes now pooled at the entrance of your house. He doesn’t give a damn. He steps out of them as he pulls you closer, hands now lingering on the back of your thighs.

With you so close, he doesn’t want to rush any of this anymore.

“I’m here,” he murmurs onto your lips before he kisses you again. He drinks in every line of your form, every inch of you that he’s allowed to touch. “I’m right here, baby. Come on. Up.”

His voice is low and calm, but he’s barely keeping himself together. His mind is buzzing, racing. The heat of your body against his, the way your breath catches as he lifts you, his fingers digging into the back of your thigh to steady you. Your legs immediately wrap around his hips, not a single moment of hesitation because of course you know what to do.

That is enough to make him feel like he’s losing control. He could drown in you if he’s not careful.

“What’s on your mind?” you pry carefully. Your breath is warm against the crook of his neck.

Jisung hesitates. There’s so much he wants to say, so many words caught in his throat. About how everything is too fast, everyone too intense. About how you make everything slow down and make sense again. How these moments with you feel like coming home.

But he’s not ready for them to form realness on his tongue. That’s too much for something like this, no?

So instead, he just holds you closer, breathes you in. “Just glad I’m here with you.”

You hum contentedly, fingers back to playing with the damp hair at his nape. “Me too, Ji.”

The trust between you is tangible in moments like these — in the way you melt into his touch, the way he lets his guard down completely. No pretenses, no walls. Just two souls finding comfort in each other’s warmth.

He carries you down the familiar path to your room, each step deliberate and careful, and you flash him an easy, toothy smile. He traces the curve of your lips with his eyes, memorizing how the dim light catches on your features. The weight of you in his arms tethers him down, keeping him within your gravitational pull and he’s not quite sure if he could part from you. Not that he wants to. Not ever.

When he lays you on the bed, it’s with a reverence that surprises him. Your eyes meet his in the darkness, full of understanding and something deeper that makes his chest ache. There’s only this — only you, only him, only the quiet sound of rain against the windows — and in the space you’ve carved out together, everything is quiet and still and perfect.

He forgets how he’s almost fully naked until he realizes how much clothes you still have on. He glares at your top, like it personally offends him, before he helps you out of it. You sit, arms up and he pulls the top off of you, then he wastes no time to explore your body, now bare right in front of him. He pushes your legs apart with his knee, slotting himself in between.

A giggle escapes your lips at the awestruck look on Jisung’s face. To tease him, then, you bring your hands up to push your tits together, and Jisung thinks his eyes would fall out of his head.

“You’re so–” he starts, but cuts himself off with a low groan as his hand immediately finds a nipple. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

“Dramatic,” you laugh, breathless, body shifting to accommodate his weight better. You reach for the hem of his briefs. “Isn’t this supposed to be, you know, no strings attached? Why are you talking like you’re in a romance novel?”

He catches your wrist, stopping you mid-motion, and raises an eyebrow. He knows you’re only teasing, and he doesn’t feel even the tiniest bit insulted by your words. Mocked, maybe, but he’s not going to cry about it.

“Can’t I appreciate you without you giving me shit for it?”

He doesn’t need to hear your response. He leans down, takes the other neglected nipple between his lips and enjoys the sigh — his or yours, he’s not sure anymore — that echoes in the room. His mouth is warm and insistent, his tongue swirling around the nub as his fingers tease the other. You arch into his touch, a quiet moan escaping you, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. He’s always been like this — attentive, almost obsessive in the way he worships your body. Like he’s trying to memorize every reaction, every sound you make.

It’s so easy to get lost in the epiphany of desperation when it’s you.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mewls against your chest, his voice rough and strained. He nips lightly, just enough to make you gasp, before soothing the spot with a kiss. He free hand trails down your side, fingers skimming over your hips before slipping between your thighs. “Always so ready for me.”

Jisung peers up through his eyelashes, watching you bite your lip. Your breath stutters when he pushes past your shorts and his fingers brush against your core.  

“Ji,” you whimper, your hands tangling in his hair. “Don’t tease.”

He chuckles, low and dark, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he takes his time, his fingers tracing lazy circles that make your legs tremble. “But you’re so fun to tease,” he says, his voice dripping with mischief. He looks up at you, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “You make the prettiest sounds when I take my time.”

You groan, frustration seeping through the sound, and he grins before finally giving you what you want. His fingers slide inside you, slow and deliberate, and you cry out, your legs twitching beneath him. He watches you intently, his gaze locked on your face as he curls his fingers, searching for that spot that he knows would send you the pleasure he so badly wants to give you.

“There it is,” he chuckles when your body jerks in response. He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing every sound you make. His thumb circles your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, while he pumps his fingers into you at a slowly increasing pace. He feels your warmth clenching, and he knows you’re already close, so close—

But then he stops.

You whine, your hips chasing his hand, but he pulls away completely, sitting back on his heels with a smug grin as he licks his fingers.

“Not yet,” he says, firm but playful. He begins to pull your remaining clothes off. “I’m not done with you.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. You kick your shorts along with your panties away when it pools around your ankle.

Jisung just laughs, leaning down to kiss you again. And then, before you can respond, he’s flipping you onto your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you up onto your knees.

You bury your face in the pillows, and he nods to himself, happy at how pliable you are underneath him. He momentarily moves away, reaching for your bedside drawer where he knows the condoms, among other things, are kept. It takes little to no time for him to pull his underwear just enough to get his cock out, rip the foil packet, then roll the rubber down his length. He's done this with you enough to feel like his body can move on its own. He hisses at his own touch, feeling vaguely sensitive and highly aroused, and he pumps a couple of times to get himself fully hard.

His hands roam over your body then, squeezing and teasing, before settling on your hips. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whistles lowly, his voice thick with desire. The tip of his cock catches against your clit. “I could spend hours just looking at you, watching you fall apart.”

You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, your eyes dark with need. “Then stop fucking talking and make me fall apart.”

He grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light, and then he’s pushing into you, slow and steady. You both groan in unison, the sensation overwhelming after the buildup. Jisung pauses once he’s fully sheathed, his hands tightening on your hips as he lets you adjust.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his head dropping forward. “You feel so good.”

You push back against him, urging him to move, and he obliges, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has you reeling beneath him. His hands move all around your body, touching everywhere he can reach, and he can feel the tension building again, tighter and hotter than before.

“Ji… Ji–sung-ah,” you gasp, your fingers clutching at the sheets. “Don’t stop.”

Jisung grits his teeth, fighting to maintain control as your walls squeeze around him. It takes every ounce of his restraint to keep his movements steady, deep and unhurried. He wants to lose himself in you, to give in to the primal urge clawing at him, but he’s determined to savor every second of this.

“I won’t,” he promises, his voice strained.

His hand slips around your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach as he pulls you flush against him, your back arching into his chest. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and he groans at the way you shudder, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

“Right there?” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing. He rolls his hips, slow and deliberate, making sure to brush that spot again. “Does that feel good?”

You nod frantically, words failing you as your body rocks in time with his thrusts. Your hands grapple at his arms wrapped around your chest, desperate for something to hold on to, but he only chuckles, clearly pleased by the way he has you trembling beneath him.

His pace picks up then, each push sharp and precise. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in so deeply that it almost seems like the room trembles. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your breathless cries and his ragged grunts. He leans in, his mouth tracing the line of your shoulder before biting down gently, enough to leave a mark but not enough to hurt.

Your body jolts and he smirks, tongue licking over the redden skin. “You’re mine tonight,” he whispers possessively, something raw spilling from the corners of his mouth. “Every inch of you.”

His words feel light and dizzying against his tongue, and your pussy clenches around him in what he believes as a silent response. Jisung curses under his breath, his grip on you tightening as he fights to keep his rhythm steady. But you’re making it difficult, so, so difficult with the way you’re gasping his name, the way your body moves to meet him.

“Please. Please. Jisung–” You try to push back against him, but he holds you in place, controlling the pace.

“Ah, ah,” he chides, his tone mischievous even as his voice wavers with need. “I’m still not done with you.”

He pulls out suddenly, and you whine at the loss, your body instinctively trying to follow him. Before you can protest, he flips you onto your back again, his mouth crashing down onto yours in a kiss that’s all heat and hunger. He swallows your surprised moan, his hands wandering.

Jisung breaks the kiss just as quickly, his lips moving down your neck, over your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. He’s relentless, nipping and sucking until you’re a writhing mess beneath him, your hands buried in his hair as you try to pull him closer.

“God,” you groan, “you’re so fucking annoying.”

“I only aim to please.”

He lines himself up, rubbing his cock head up and down your slit to tease you. When he feels a complain threatening to leave your mouth, he thrusts back into you, hard and deep, and your mouth falls open. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he buries himself to the hilt. He sets a brutal pace this time, his hips snapping forward with purpose, each stroke drawing a choked moan from your lips. His name falls from your mouth like a prayer, over and over, and he swears he could get drunk off the sound.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come on, baby. I want to feel you.”

Your body tightens around him, your walls fluttering as the tension coils impossibly tight. You’re so close, so close it hurts, and Jisung feels himself spiraling, his own release just within reach. But he holds on, waiting for you, needing to see you fall apart first.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice shaking with restraint. “I want to see you.”

Your eyes snap open, locking onto his, and that’s all it takes. Your body shatters around him, a strangled scream ripping from your throat as pleasure crashes through you. He feels you clench around him, impossibly tight, and it sends him over the edge, his own release hitting him with devastating force.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his body shuddering against yours as he rides out his high, his hips moving erratically until he’s completely spent.

For a moment, neither of you move, your heavy breathing the only sound in the room. Then, slowly, he pulls out, his arms giving out as he collapses beside you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Jisung reaches out, pulling you close until you’re tangled together, your bodies still buzzing from the aftershocks. He presses a lazy kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks, his voice soft, tender.

You shake your head, a sleepy smile playing on your lips as you nuzzle into his chest. “No… You were perfect.”

“Good.”

He feels the tip of your nose brush against his neck as you nuzzle into him. Into the small space of it, you whisper, “Something’s bothering you.”

Jisung breathes deeply, remaining silent. The rain outside continues to patter against the window. His arms tighten around you, and he feels the way your chest rises and falls, the way your fingers press just a little harder into his skin. For a moment, he thinks you’ll goad him about it further. It’s not like he is uncomfortable with telling you, or that he wants to keep it a secret from you. He just feels it a little insignificant and maybe a little stupid.

“Tell me sometime, yeah?” you say, smiling up at him assuringly.

“Sure,” he breathes. “Sure. Yeah. I’m so fucked, I think.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, light and tender, and you press a kiss to his nose. “Yeah. But so am I. Literally. Maybe figuratively, too. You know.”

He smiles then, the tension easing from his shoulders, his arms tightening around you as if to anchor himself. “I know.”

You both settle into the silence, limbs tangled together, heartbeats steadying in unison. The rain continues its gentle rhythm outside, a soothing lullaby that wraps around you both.

this work is complete and will not have any subsequent parts.

[caicali]

i was thinking if i should write a minsung x reader fic :/ should i ??? if yes, suggest a plot or anything i should include 👀

[caicali]

what to write next 🫠

[caicali]

thank you, sir.

PART 1. PART 2.

pairing: han jisung x f!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex (pls don't do this), degradation, teasing, public sex, rough sex, and spanking.

——————————————————————————

He stepped up, his movements abrupt as he closes the distance between you, his hand wrapping around your arm and gently but firmly pulling you towards him. "You're not listening, are you?" His voice is low, stern.

“Either you stop playing these games right now...” His fingers tighten slightly around your arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to show he means business “...or I swear, I'll make you regret testing me like this.” His voice drops to a whisper, his face inches from yours.

His breath mingles with yours, his pupils dilated, face flushed. He looks furious, but there's a undercurrent of something else, something raw and primal. His gaze flickers to your lips again, “I want you, sir.”

His grip on your arm falters for a moment, eyes widening at your blunt words. Then, with a low groan, he closes the remaining distance, pinning you against his desk. His forehead rests against yours, breaths coming hard and fast.

“Goddamn it, Y/N... You're gonna make me break the rules— I am a licensed professor and you are a stu—” You cut him off with a kiss. A rough, desperate, need-filled kiss that leaves both of you breathless. Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you panting. With a shuddering breath, he grips your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh through the thin fabric of your skirt. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath. "We can't."

“But don't you want me too, sir?” You said with the most seductive voice you can. He looks at you, eyes burning with desire, jaw clenched tight. "Of course I want you, Y/N. I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. But I'm your professor, and you're my student. It's unethical, it's illegal... it's fucking impossible."

He looks at the empty classroom, then back at you, conflict warring in his eyes. Slowly, you touched his shirt, feeling his toned chest. "If we do this, Y/N... there's no going back."

“Please...” is all thing you can say.

At your pleading whisper, something snaps inside him. With a grunt, he pulls you against him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Again. His hands roam your body possessively, sliding down to grip your backside and hoist you up.

"Wrap your legs around me," You wrap your legs around his waist, moaning as he grinds against you. He kisses down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt with hurried fingers. He pulls back, eyes dark and serious. "Mmm.”

“I'm on a pill. Sir, please, I need—" He kisses you hard, swallowing your plea as his hands slide under your skirt, thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs. He presses closer, hardening against you.

He tears your skirt off, tossing it aside. “Last chance to stop this, Y/N.”

“Sir, touch me more—” You moaned. His eyes flash with hunger at your desperate plea. He reaches out, his fingers finding your aching clit. “Fuck,” He rubs circles around it, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you whimper. “Is this what you need, Y/N? My fingers on your pussy?”

“F-feels so good— fuck...!”

He hooks his fingers inside you, curling them upward to hit that spot that drives you crazy. He looks down, watching his fingers move in and out of you. He can feel you trembling, begging for more. He leans down, his breath hot against your most intimate area.

His tongue replaces his fingers, licking you expertly. Your moans fill the classroom as he devours you, two fingers still pumping in and out. “You taste fucking amazing...” He laps harder, faster, using his lips and tongue to drive you wild.

“Thank you, sir— thank yo... mmmm”

He touches your center again, spreading your wetness. "You're so wet," he mutters, sliding another finger inside you. He watches you toss your head back, moaning loudly. He continued, pumping them faster, watching you fall apart. "Come for me,"

He curls his fingers, hitting that spot deep inside you. His thumb presses on your clit, rubbing in tight circles. His lips finding yours in a searing kiss as he finger-fucks you hard and fast. “Shit— cum all over my hand, Y/N.”

You screamed, your pussy clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. He kisses you again and swallowed your cries, his hand moving steadily until the last shiver leaves your body. "Good girl,"

“Mmm...” Your chest rises and falls rapidly, breasts heaving. His eyes drop lower, watching his fingers glisten from your release. He brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean. Your eyes snap to his, widening. “Sir...”

“You taste so fucking good, Ms. Y/N.”

He smirks, leaning down to capture your mouth in a kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. It's filthy, and it turns you on even more. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. “So sexy. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn over.”

He turns you over roughly, bending you over his desk. He kicks your legs apart, stepping between them. You feel his hard cock pressing against your pussy. He leans down, his voice low and commanding in your ear. "Hands on the desk, Y/N. Don't move them.”

“Yes, s-sir.” You whimpered. He unbuckles his belt, the sound loud in the quiet room. He pulls it through the loops slowly, intentionally. The leather whispers against the fabric as he folds it in half. He trails the cool leather up your back, over your curves, before snapping it gently against your bottom. “Sir! It h-hurts.”

"Such a pretty ass. Too bad I'm going to redden it," He snaps the belt against your flesh again, the sound of leather hitting skin filling the room. You gasp at the mix of pain and pleasure. His free hand grabs your hair, pulling your head back.

“This is what you get for begging your professor to fuck you. I didn't know such a student like you can be this fucking dirty.” He tightens his grip on your hair, voice dark and commanding. "Now take your punishment like a good slut and count." He brings the belt down again, leaving a red mark. "One,"

The belt hisses through the air again, striking your ass with a sharp crack. "Two," You moaned. "Dirty little student, presenting yourself to your professor like this..." Another lash, harder this time. "Three— sir! Fuck—”

He sets a brutal rhythm, the belt striking your ass in quick succession - four, five, six. "Look at this slutty ass, all pink and begging for more," He smirked. “I need you— I need you in me, please,” You begged.

"Spread your cheeks," He orders darkly. You obey shamefully, presenting your raw, beaten ass to him. He spits on your hole, watching it slide down slowly. You cry out. “S-so good. Y-you're so sexy—”

He grabs your hips harshly and entered. “I'm going to ruin this hole too, slut." He pushes forward slowly, breaching the tight ring of muscle. “Ugh! FUCK—” You moaned really loud, not caring if anyone can hear.

He sinks deeper, stretching you impossibly with his thick cock. He pauses, letting you adjust to the intense intrusion. "Fuck, so goddamn tight..." He pulls out slightly before slamming back in, setting a brutal rhythm. Each thrust punishes your tender ass, forcing cries from your lips. “P-please...”

"Fucking take it," He grabs your hair, pulling your head back as he pounds into you. His balls slap against your pussy with each thrust.

His breathing grows ragged, his movements jerky. He leans over you, his forehead pressed against your back. “Sir... c-cum inside me, please—” You plead. He growls possessively, feeling you clenched. “Fuck. I can feel you clenching around me. But I can't do that.” He said. “Fuck Please! YES!” You cried, begging him to corrupt you.

“Slut.” His eyes darken dangerously. He spreads your cheeks wider, watching his shaft disappear inside your body. "I can't cum inside you, baby. It's too risky.” He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, harder. "Where do you— fuck... want my cum?" He asked again.

“B-back...” You moaned. "Back of the throat, or back on your ass?" He grunts, thrusting brutally. "Choose carefully now." He holds himself deep, letting you feel every throbbing inch. “B-back on my ass...” You answered.

His cock throbs violently inside you as his orgasm builds rapidly, he pulls out and stroked his dick—releasing white semen. "Fuck, take it all.”

You both pants heavily. “T-thank you, sir.” He chuckled. "You handled it like a good girl," He murmurs, tucking his softening member back into his pants. He zips up slowly, watching you wince slightly as you try to stand up, fixing your skirt and blouse. He notices his dried cum on your thighs and smirked.

"You're gonna go home like this?" He laughs softly, watching you smooth your skirt down. "No one will know I just had your ass up in the air, taking my dick?" He asks teasingly. He watches you carefully, noting how your cheeks flush slightly. “Stop.” You covered your face with your hands.

“Cute.” He murmurs to himself. “Thank you for today, Ms. Y/N. You entertained me so much. See you in our next session?” He said as he watches you fix your things. “I guess... i'm sorry for—” You were about to finish speaking but he cuts you off. “Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.”

“This will be our dirty little secret, angel.”

[caicali]

you can req anything you would like me to include for the next part! :D

thank you, sir.

PART 1. PART 2.

pairing: han jisung x f!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: a lot of teasing and nsfw (18+)

(a/n. will be posting the part 2 maybe tomorrow or later, the smut parts will be there)

——————————————————————————

The lecture hall is empty now, save for you and Professor Han Jisung. You stand hesitantly by his desk, gripping the strap of your bag as he finishes scribbling something into his planner. The soft scratch of his pen fills the silence before he finally looks up.

“Ah, Ms. Y/N,” he says, adjusting his sleeves. “I trust you've been keeping up with the coursework?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, hesitating. The exhaustion in your eyes must be obvious because his expression softens.

“Hm? Is everything alright?” His voice loses its usual authoritative edge, replaced by something gentler. When you don't answer right away, he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. “Something troubles you?” he presses, his tone inviting but not intrusive. “Remember, my office door is always open—not just for academic, but personal ones as well, okay? As long as you are comfortable.”

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “It's just... everything feels overwhelming lately,” you finally admit, your voice quieter than you would like. “Assignments, exams, and just... life.”

He nods, as if he expected this answer. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the desk thoughtfully. “It’s understandable,” he says. “The weight of expectations can be a lot to carry alone.”

Jisung exhales softly, then reaches for a small notepad on his desk. He scribbles something down, tears the page, and slides it toward you.

“Here,” he says. “A reminder.”

You glance down. In neat, precise handwriting.

Progress, not perfection. Breathe. You’re doing better than you think.

Your throat tightens.

“You're not alone in this, Y/N,” he continues, his voice low, reassuring. “And you don’t have to shoulder everything by yourself. If you need help—academically or otherwise—ask for it. There’s no shame in that.”

You nod slowly, folding the note carefully before tucking it into your pocket. “Thank you, Sir.”

He smiles, a rare but genuine expression. “Anytime.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel just a little lighter.

——————————————————————————

As you step out of the lecture hall, the crisp evening air greets you, carrying a slight chill that cools your warm cheeks. You clutch the note in your pocket, fingers brushing over the smooth paper as you replay the conversation in your head.

You don't know why, but something about the way he spoke—the way his gaze softened just for you—lingers longer than it should. Shaking your head, you make your way to the café, where you know your friends are waiting. As expected, Seungmin and Jeongin are huddled in the corner booth, coffee half-finished, deep in a conversation that immediately halts when you approach.

“There she is,” Seungmin drawls, pushing out the chair beside him with his foot. “Took you long enough. What? Got caught up in another existential crisis?”

I.N grins, nudging Seungmin. “Or maybe she was too busy staring at a certain professor?”

You froze on your spot “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on,” I.N continues, wiggling his eyebrows. “You just had lecture hours with him, didn’t you?”

Seungmin smirks, resting his chin on his palm. “Han Jisung, right? The whole mysterious but kind mentor aesthetic? The one you definitely talk about way too much?”

Your face burns. “I do not talk about him that much.”

Seungmin and I.N exchange a look before bursting into laughter.

“Right, and I’m the top student in class,” Seungmin deadpans.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “It wasn’t special! He was just being nice! Professors are supposed to care about their students, duh.”

“But do they, though?” Seungmin hums, stirring his drink lazily. “Not all of them leave cute little motivational notes, Y/N.”

You huff, slouching in your chair. “It’s not like that.”

“Yet,” I.N sing-songs.

“You guys are impossible.”

They both burst into laughter again, and despite your protests, you can’t help but smile too. Because for all their teasing, you know they’ve got your back—whether it’s about struggling with classes, dealing with stress, or even, apparently, developing a totally nonexistent crush on your professor.

But still…

Your hand drifts to your pocket again, fingertips brushing over the note.

…Maybe just a little.

——————————————————————————

The next day, you decide to wear something a little different. A tiny skirt, just short enough to make you feel bold but not inappropriate. It’s not like you planned anything, of course. Just… testing something.

When you step into the lecture hall, you feel the weight of Professor Han’s gaze almost instantly. He’s in the middle of setting up his notes, but for a split second, his eyes flicker down. Barely a glance, so quick you almost think you imagined it.

Almost.

Class goes on as usual—his voice smooth and commanding, the rhythmic scratch of chalk on the board—but there’s a tension in the air, subtle but undeniable. Every time he looks your way, his jaw tightens just a fraction, his fingers curling slightly against the desk.

And when you cross your legs, shifting in your seat? You do not miss the way he pauses mid-sentence before quickly composing himself.

Interesting.

When class ends, the students left one by one, laughter and chatter filling the hall as they pack up. You, however, stay behind, watching as Professor Han gathers his materials with careful precision.

You approach his desk, clearing your throat slightly. “Sir?”

He glances up, expression immediately softening. “Ms. Y/N. Something on your mind?”

You hesitate, then offer him a small smile. “I just… wanted to thank you. For yesterday.” You tap your pocket lightly, where his note still rests. “It really helped.”

“I’m glad,” he says, voice quieter than before. “You seemed like you needed to hear it.”

You tilt your head slightly. “And today?”

His brows lift. “Today?”

“You seemed… distracted.” You keep your tone light, playful, watching him carefully.

A slow, measured breath escapes him, barely audible, but you catch it. His fingers still against the desk, tightening slightly before he relaxes them.

“I wouldn’t say distracted,” he muses, “Just… observant.”

You hum, stepping just a little closer. “Observant?”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze steady—carefully unreadable. “It’s my job to notice things.”

“Things like?” You arch a brow, challenging.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes flicker downward—so quick, so subtle, but enough to send a knowing shiver down your spine. He shifts in his seat, as if willing himself to remain composed.

“Things like a student who suddenly feels bold enough to test boundaries,” he finally says, voice smooth, controlled. “Is there something you’re trying to prove, Ms. Y/N?”

Your lips curl slightly. “I don’t know, sir. Is there something you think I should prove?”

His jaw clenches for a split second before he exhales, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “Careful.”

You bite your lip, tilting your head. “Careful of what?”

His gaze flickers to the door behind you, ensuring the last of the students are gone before meeting your eyes again. There’s a quiet tension between you, humming like an unspoken dare.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmurs.

You smile, shifting your weight slightly, just enough to make the hem of your skirt rise an inch higher. His fingers twitch.

“And what if I like playing, Professor?”

Something dark flickers in his eyes before he looks away, exhaling sharply. Then, in that same measured voice, he says, “Go home, Ms. Y/N.”

You take a slow step forward, letting your fingers trail lightly along the smooth wood of his desk, your nails barely making a sound. His eyes follow the movement, dark and calculating, though his face remains unreadable.

“I’m not sure I want to go home just yet,” you muse, voice soft but laced with something heavier.

His gaze flickers to yours, sharp. “Ms. Y/N.” His voice is low, a warning.

You feign innocence, tilting your head. “Yes, sir?”

Something about the way you say it—just a little too sweet, a little too deliberate—makes his jaw tighten.

You step closer, resting your hand on the edge of the desk, fingertips just inches from his. You don’t touch him—not quite—but the heat between your hands is undeniable.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” you continue, letting your fingers skim the edge of his notes, the ghost of a touch against his knuckles. “You seemed tense today, sir.”

He inhales sharply. “Y/N.”

Not Ms. Y/N this time. Just your name.

You swallow, heat curling in your stomach at the sound of it.

“You should go,” he says again, but there’s something different in his voice now. Less firm. Less certain.

You smile. “Are you asking, or telling?”

“You really don’t know what you’re playing with, do you?”

Your pulse quickens. “Maybe I do.”

His eyes flicker to your lips—brief, fleeting, but enough for you to notice. Enough for your breath to hitch.

“Go home, Y/N.” His voice is smoother now, controlled. But you don’t miss the way his fingers twitch at his sides. Like he’s still fighting the urge to reach for you.

[caicali]

thank you, sir.

PART 1. PART 2.

pairing: han jisung x f!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: a lot of teasing and nsfw (18+)

(a/n. will be posting the part 2 maybe tomorrow or later, the smut parts will be there)

——————————————————————————

The lecture hall is empty now, save for you and Professor Han Jisung. You stand hesitantly by his desk, gripping the strap of your bag as he finishes scribbling something into his planner. The soft scratch of his pen fills the silence before he finally looks up.

“Ah, Ms. Y/N,” he says, adjusting his sleeves. “I trust you've been keeping up with the coursework?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, hesitating. The exhaustion in your eyes must be obvious because his expression softens.

“Hm? Is everything alright?” His voice loses its usual authoritative edge, replaced by something gentler. When you don't answer right away, he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. “Something troubles you?” he presses, his tone inviting but not intrusive. “Remember, my office door is always open—not just for academic, but personal ones as well, okay? As long as you are comfortable.”

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “It's just... everything feels overwhelming lately,” you finally admit, your voice quieter than you would like. “Assignments, exams, and just... life.”

He nods, as if he expected this answer. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the desk thoughtfully. “It’s understandable,” he says. “The weight of expectations can be a lot to carry alone.”

Jisung exhales softly, then reaches for a small notepad on his desk. He scribbles something down, tears the page, and slides it toward you.

“Here,” he says. “A reminder.”

You glance down. In neat, precise handwriting.

Progress, not perfection. Breathe. You’re doing better than you think.

Your throat tightens.

“You're not alone in this, Y/N,” he continues, his voice low, reassuring. “And you don’t have to shoulder everything by yourself. If you need help—academically or otherwise—ask for it. There’s no shame in that.”

You nod slowly, folding the note carefully before tucking it into your pocket. “Thank you, Sir.”

He smiles, a rare but genuine expression. “Anytime.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel just a little lighter.

——————————————————————————

As you step out of the lecture hall, the crisp evening air greets you, carrying a slight chill that cools your warm cheeks. You clutch the note in your pocket, fingers brushing over the smooth paper as you replay the conversation in your head.

You don't know why, but something about the way he spoke—the way his gaze softened just for you—lingers longer than it should. Shaking your head, you make your way to the café, where you know your friends are waiting. As expected, Seungmin and Jeongin are huddled in the corner booth, coffee half-finished, deep in a conversation that immediately halts when you approach.

“There she is,” Seungmin drawls, pushing out the chair beside him with his foot. “Took you long enough. What? Got caught up in another existential crisis?”

I.N grins, nudging Seungmin. “Or maybe she was too busy staring at a certain professor?”

You froze on your spot “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on,” I.N continues, wiggling his eyebrows. “You just had lecture hours with him, didn’t you?”

Seungmin smirks, resting his chin on his palm. “Han Jisung, right? The whole mysterious but kind mentor aesthetic? The one you definitely talk about way too much?”

Your face burns. “I do not talk about him that much.”

Seungmin and I.N exchange a look before bursting into laughter.

“Right, and I’m the top student in class,” Seungmin deadpans.

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “It wasn’t special! He was just being nice! Professors are supposed to care about their students, duh.”

“But do they, though?” Seungmin hums, stirring his drink lazily. “Not all of them leave cute little motivational notes, Y/N.”

You huff, slouching in your chair. “It’s not like that.”

“Yet,” I.N sing-songs.

“You guys are impossible.”

They both burst into laughter again, and despite your protests, you can’t help but smile too. Because for all their teasing, you know they’ve got your back—whether it’s about struggling with classes, dealing with stress, or even, apparently, developing a totally nonexistent crush on your professor.

But still…

Your hand drifts to your pocket again, fingertips brushing over the note.

…Maybe just a little.

——————————————————————————

The next day, you decide to wear something a little different. A tiny skirt, just short enough to make you feel bold but not inappropriate. It’s not like you planned anything, of course. Just… testing something.

When you step into the lecture hall, you feel the weight of Professor Han’s gaze almost instantly. He’s in the middle of setting up his notes, but for a split second, his eyes flicker down. Barely a glance, so quick you almost think you imagined it.

Almost.

Class goes on as usual—his voice smooth and commanding, the rhythmic scratch of chalk on the board—but there’s a tension in the air, subtle but undeniable. Every time he looks your way, his jaw tightens just a fraction, his fingers curling slightly against the desk.

And when you cross your legs, shifting in your seat? You do not miss the way he pauses mid-sentence before quickly composing himself.

Interesting.

When class ends, the students left one by one, laughter and chatter filling the hall as they pack up. You, however, stay behind, watching as Professor Han gathers his materials with careful precision.

You approach his desk, clearing your throat slightly. “Sir?”

He glances up, expression immediately softening. “Ms. Y/N. Something on your mind?”

You hesitate, then offer him a small smile. “I just… wanted to thank you. For yesterday.” You tap your pocket lightly, where his note still rests. “It really helped.”

“I’m glad,” he says, voice quieter than before. “You seemed like you needed to hear it.”

You tilt your head slightly. “And today?”

His brows lift. “Today?”

“You seemed… distracted.” You keep your tone light, playful, watching him carefully.

A slow, measured breath escapes him, barely audible, but you catch it. His fingers still against the desk, tightening slightly before he relaxes them.

“I wouldn’t say distracted,” he muses, “Just… observant.”

You hum, stepping just a little closer. “Observant?”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze steady—carefully unreadable. “It’s my job to notice things.”

“Things like?” You arch a brow, challenging.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes flicker downward—so quick, so subtle, but enough to send a knowing shiver down your spine. He shifts in his seat, as if willing himself to remain composed.

“Things like a student who suddenly feels bold enough to test boundaries,” he finally says, voice smooth, controlled. “Is there something you’re trying to prove, Ms. Y/N?”

Your lips curl slightly. “I don’t know, sir. Is there something you think I should prove?”

His jaw clenches for a split second before he exhales, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “Careful.”

You bite your lip, tilting your head. “Careful of what?”

His gaze flickers to the door behind you, ensuring the last of the students are gone before meeting your eyes again. There’s a quiet tension between you, humming like an unspoken dare.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmurs.

You smile, shifting your weight slightly, just enough to make the hem of your skirt rise an inch higher. His fingers twitch.

“And what if I like playing, Professor?”

Something dark flickers in his eyes before he looks away, exhaling sharply. Then, in that same measured voice, he says, “Go home, Ms. Y/N.”

You take a slow step forward, letting your fingers trail lightly along the smooth wood of his desk, your nails barely making a sound. His eyes follow the movement, dark and calculating, though his face remains unreadable.

“I’m not sure I want to go home just yet,” you muse, voice soft but laced with something heavier.

His gaze flickers to yours, sharp. “Ms. Y/N.” His voice is low, a warning.

You feign innocence, tilting your head. “Yes, sir?”

Something about the way you say it—just a little too sweet, a little too deliberate—makes his jaw tighten.

You step closer, resting your hand on the edge of the desk, fingertips just inches from his. You don’t touch him—not quite—but the heat between your hands is undeniable.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” you continue, letting your fingers skim the edge of his notes, the ghost of a touch against his knuckles. “You seemed tense today, sir.”

He inhales sharply. “Y/N.”

Not Ms. Y/N this time. Just your name.

You swallow, heat curling in your stomach at the sound of it.

“You should go,” he says again, but there’s something different in his voice now. Less firm. Less certain.

You smile. “Are you asking, or telling?”

“You really don’t know what you’re playing with, do you?”

Your pulse quickens. “Maybe I do.”

His eyes flicker to your lips—brief, fleeting, but enough for you to notice. Enough for your breath to hitch.

“Go home, Y/N.” His voice is smoother now, controlled. But you don’t miss the way his fingers twitch at his sides. Like he’s still fighting the urge to reach for you.

[caicali]

i'm gonna post one later :')

[caicali]

who should i write first 🧐

[caicali]

i might start writing soon

[caicali]

aw cutie

ཻུ۪۪♡ 𝒞𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓉 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝒻𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈┊ཻུ۪۪♡

han jisung x female! reader

summary: After dinner, han jisung sets up a surprise candlelit walk around the neighborhood, holding hands and reflecting on your relationship so far. you share your hopes and dreams for the future, making promises to each other in the soft glow of the candles, and also a unexpected surprise proposal.

genre: fluff, romance

word count: 688

『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』『♡』•『♡』•『

Jisung led you through the quiet streets, the warm glow of candles illuminating the path. The flickering flames created a magical atmosphere, as if they were the only two people in the world.

The quiet was broken only by the soft sound of their footsteps and the occasional rustling of leaves. They walked hand in hand, enjoying each other's company and the peaceful surroundings

"This feels like a scene from a movie," Jisung said, his voice a little quieter than usual. "Walking hand in hand, the candlelight casting a warm glow, it's all so romantic.'

You giggled, feeling a little coy. "Who knew the great Han Jisung was such a romantic?" you teased, giving his hand a little squeeze. It was amazing to think that this was the same person you had been crushing on for so long, and it still took your breath away to be with him like this.

"I just want to make this night perfect for you," Jisung said, looking into your eyes. "I know our relationship hasn't always been smooth sailing, but I want you to know that I'm grateful for every moment we have together. I love you."

You felt your heart swell with emotion. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you in my life. I can't wait to see what the future holds for us."

As you walked, the air was filled with whispered promises and declarations of love. The night seemed to stretch on forever, each moment more perfect than the last. And as the candles began to burn down, Jisung knew it was time for the final surprise.

He stopped suddenly, turning to face you. His eyes were shining with excitement as he dropped down to one knee. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you," he said, reaching into his pocket.

You felt your heart leap into your throat as Jisung pulled out a small, velvet box. Inside was a beautiful ring, its diamond catching the light and casting sparkles onto the ground. You could hardly breathe as Jisung spoke the words you had been dreaming of.

Jisung took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "I never thought I'd find someone like you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "You've changed my life in so many ways, and I can't imagine my future without you. You're my best friend, my soulmate, my everything. I love you more than words can express.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," Jisung continued, his voice trembling slightly. "I want to wake up every morning next to you, to share all my joys and sorrows with you, and to support you in all your dreams. You're the person I want to grow old with, the person I want to build a life with. And I can't wait to start that journey with you."

As he finished, Jisung held out the ring, his hand trembling slightly. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with love and hope. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt your eyes well up with tears as you stared at the ring, your heart bursting with joy. You nodded, unable to speak. Finally, you found your voice, and said the words that would change your life forever. "Yes," you whispered. "Yes, I will marry you."

Jisung slipped the ring onto your finger, and you both stood up, tears streaming down your faces. You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly. The moment was perfect, a memory you would cherish forever.

"I promise to love you for the rest of my life," Jisung said, kissing you softly. "I can't wait to start this next chapter with you, my love."

You held onto him, feeling completely and utterly in love. The ring sparkled on your finger, a symbol of the promises you had made to each other. You knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey, and you couldn't wait to see what the future held for you both.

『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』『♡』•『♡』•『♡』•『♡』『♡』•『♡』•『

Happy Valentine’s Day!

make sure to check out my other stories masterlist is here!