NO SAFE DISTANCE ⋆✦⋆ Ushijima Wakatoshi
NO SAFE DISTANCE ⋆✦⋆ ushijima wakatoshi
synopsis ➸ ushijima has never been good at self-restraint—especially not when it comes to you. but after one too many warnings from family and friends, he tries to take it easy on you. it doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s absolutely terrible at it.
tags ➸ extremely rough séx, size kínk, breéding kínk, cúmplay, overstimúlation, obséssive!ushijima, possessíveness, mild somnóphilia, unrestrained libído, degrádation, power imbalance, prímal play, impáct play, creampíe, implied dub-con, body worship, orál fixation, hair púlling, edgíng, forcéd orgásm, dírty talking, markíng, extreme sexúal tensíon, objectifícation, free use(?)
wc ➸ 7.9k
From the very first time Ushijima Wakatoshi saw you in high school, he was completely consumed by an overwhelming desire. You had a body built for sin - every lush curve and tantalizing swell crafted to turn men into drooling, subservient wrecks. Ushijima had never felt such an intense, primal craving to possess someone so thoroughly before.
He didn't bother trying to pursue you through conventional dating or courtship. The second he got you alone after volleyball practice, Ushijima wasted no time in pinning your smaller frame against the locker room wall and ravaging your mouth with hungry kisses. You melted instantly into his powerful embrace, whimpering as his calloused hands eagerly mapped every inch of your softness.
From that moment on, Ushijima was utterly addicted to having you. An insatiable hunger possessed him to constantly bend you over, hike up your skirt, and take you from behind in every public nook and cranny he could find on campus. His friends lost count of how many times they caught him rutting into you like a wild animal, his powerful hips jackhammering mercilessly as your cries of ecstasy echoed through the hallways.
"Damn 'Toshi, you're really putting that body to work!" They would joke breathlessly. "Just wait until after you put a ring on it - you'll never want to leave that!"
Ushijima merely grunted at their defeated prophecies, thoroughly convinced his sheer force of will would allow him to control his ravenous cravings once you were officially his bride. How laughably wrong he was...
Your wedding night in Bali lasted all of five seconds before Ushijima had you naked and screaming, impaled on his thick length as he took you like a lust-starved animal against the resort balcony doors. The entire honeymoon suite still reeks of your mingled scents and the obscene squelches of his cock ruining your soaked pussy for all other men. By the time you checked out a week later, the staff had to completely strip and discard the stained bedsheets you'd been ruthlessly bred upon day and night.
Two years later, and Ushijima's hunger to dominate and claim his wife's body has only grown more rapacious. He delights in keeping you perpetually stuffed full of his potent seed - bending you over at any opportunity to slake his thirst inside your abused holes. You've long since given up any notion of dignity or shame, instead reveling in your role as his cock-warmer cumdump, spread open and overflowing with his virile leavings every hour of the day.
Ushijima adored having you as his devoted, stay-at-home wife to ravage at his whim. From the moment he returned from practice or a game, you were expected to be awaiting him fully nude and presented, ready to be claimed like the obedient little bride you were. He loved seeing you in that submissive display - limbs splayed wantonly, glistening folds already dewy with arousal just from the thought of taking his thick cock again.
There was no need for clothes or modesty when Ushijima was home. Your flawless form was meant to be admired, worshipped, and thoroughly decorated with his possessive marks. He took immense satisfaction in ensuring your silky walls were never empty, always stuffed to overflowing with his potent seed. Ushijima would thoroughly breed you in every room of the house, delighting in your whimpers and tremors as he hilted himself balls-deep and flooded your quivering womb.
Despite his rough, animalistic claiming of your body, there was no denying the depth of Ushijima's love and adoration for you. In those moments after reaching his climax, he would gently gather you against his chest, raining tender kisses over your disheveled hair and face as he stroked your curves adoringly. You were his precious, beautiful wife - the only person who could inspire such paradoxical tenderness and ferocious passion within him.
However, something shifted after one particularly enthusiastic lovemaking session left you unable to walk for nearly a full day. Ushijima had carried your trembling, spent form to the bedroom and spent hours meticulously bathing you, replacing the sheets, and ensuring you were settled comfortably. Yet the sight of your listless, overstimulated state shook him deeply.
His teammates and even parents had begun remarking with more frequency about the dark circles under your eyes and how utterly depleted you seemed. "Give the poor woman a break, son," his father had chuckled, though there was a glint of concern. "Before you run her into the ground completely."
Ushijima knew they were right. As much as he treasured being able to take his wife whenever and however his formidable lust demanded, he was perhaps taking that privilege too far. You deserved to be cherished and rested, not treated as a glorified fleshlight to be used until you were an unresponsive, overstuffed mess.
So for the first time since your honeymoon, Ushijima made the difficult decision to give you a temporary reprieve from his implacable carnal urges.
At first, he'd felt confident he could control himself. How hard could it be to keep his hands off of you for a little while and allow you to recover? Ushijima was a man renowned for his incredible physical stamina and willpower on the volleyball court. Surely denying himself the intoxicating softness of your body would be simple in comparison.
He was dead wrong.
The first morning after instituting the hands-off policy, Ushijima awoke with you blissfully draped across his powerful frame in the usual naked tangle of limbs. Your bare breasts were pillowed enticingly against his chest, making his morning wood twitch traitorously against the scorching heat of your thighs.
Ushijima had to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut, fighting back the overpowering instinct to roll you onto your back and spear that soaked entrance smothering his arousal. He'd been waking up to this exact same scenario for two years, instantly burying himself to the hilt and reveling in your broken gasps as he staked his claim yet again. Just because you weren't feeling well didn't give him license to deny himself his usual indulgence of your body's splendors.
It took nearly an hour of careful, measured breathing for Ushijima's lust to finally subside enough that he could safely extract himself and leave for practice. The entire grueling commute, he could think of nothing but the way your legs had been obscenely parted, glistening arousal coating your pretty lips in anticipation of him taking what was his. He'd nearly swerved into oncoming traffic at the thought of you lying there waiting for him, to be stuffed and bred and marked with his possession yet again.
But Ushijima held firm in his conviction, somehow making it to the gym in relative control of his faculties. That iron restraint lasted all of five seconds once practice began and his blood started pumping hot and hard once more.
Teammate after teammate kept offering innocuous comments that felt like a savage gut-punch: "You look extra intense today, 'Toshi. Everything okay at home?"
His eye twitched at the innocent jest, visions of your sumptuous naked frame instinctively bent in offering filling his mind. Ushijima could practically smell the addictive, slightly musky aroma of your arousal clinging to the sheets he'd been forced to abandon. He grunted in response and merely intensified the ferocity of his drills.
If only his so-called friends knew the truth of what defined Ushijima's entire home existence — namely, burying his face and cock between your heavenly thighs at every opportunity. Using your pliant form as an infinite wellspring to quench his thirst and stake his claim over and over until you were nothing but a boneless, sobbing mess glazed inside and out with his seed.
The thought alone almost made Ushijima's knees buckle right there on the court. He was sweating, shaking, utterly consumed with the need to rush home and alleviate this rapidly building feverish pressure in his loins. You'd looked so perfect laying there that morning, every lush curve and glistening crevice begging for his reverence and possession.
But he'd robbed himself of that masculine privilege, however temporarily. Now Ushijima could only grit his teeth and endure the agonizing emptiness of being denied his sweet, slick accommodations as your husband. Of not being able to simply take you and use your body to slake his basest urgings whenever the need inevitably struck.
Even after the torturous morning waking up beside your nude form, Ushijima's day was far from over in terms of temptation and denial.
Upon returning home from practice, he was immediately assaulted by the soft sounds and enticing smells of you puttering around the kitchen preparing an early dinner. Ushijima felt his arousal spike anew, mouth watering not for the food but for the memories.
There was the island counter where he'd bent you over just last week, holes already soaked in anticipation as he mounted you from behind. He could vividly picture the way your fingernails had scrabbled for purchase, mewling pleas to "give it to me" falling on deaf ears as Ushijima simply took what he wanted with rough, claiming strokes.
You didn't even have to ask anymore - he would simply spread those luscious thighs and sheathe himself home whenever the whim struck. Your role as his doting wife was to remain constantly bred and aching around the thick bulge of his cock, no matter where or when he desired to rut.
Steam billowed from the oven as you inevitably bent over, back arched and ass presented in that same wanton offering Ushijima was intimately familiar with. Just a few days ago he'd had you bent at that same angle, slamming into your ripening pussy with abandon as his heavy balls smacked that perfect jiggling rump raw.
He could practically hear the vulgar squelch of his cock excavating your insides with each punishing stroke while you squealed and begged for "more, more!" That greedy, slurping cunt audibly protested each time he hilted himself fully, never satisfied until you were swollen and seeping his thick seed in obscene rivulets.
Ushijima's jaw clenched hard enough for his temples to throb sickeningly. You didn't even seem to register his presence, too focused on preparing a meal that would ultimately end up splattered across the messy kitchen once he reasserted his marital rights. He'd made it a personal mission to christen every possible surface of their home with your mingled fluids over the years.
That table you were idly wiping down? He could clearly make out the faint indentations your nails had worn into the lacquered wood from relentlessly clawing into it while he was rutting atop you hundreds of times before. Just picturing the way your head would loll back, mouth parted in fucked-out bliss as he pounded into your welcoming depths was enough to make his cock twitch needily.
The kitchen was far from the only location drenched in such lascivious memories, either. Ushijima's hungry gaze trailed over to the plush living room sofa where he'd taken to alternating between facefucking your spit-soaked throat and slapping his heavy sack against that pretty cunt until you were a delirious, choking mess. More times than he could count, you'd ended up splayed in a helpless tangle of limbs, wheezing as he pumped load after thick load directly into your convulsing womb.
That tightness would then be stuffed into whatever spare orifice remained - be it your gasping mouth or even your perfect, puckered little asshole begging to be reamed and seeded next. You were Ushijima's personal cumdump, built to be adorned with his creamy leavings inside and out until you were rendered a gooey, thoroughly ruined wreck of fucked satisfaction.
As the days crawled by in achingly slow torment, Ushijima could feel his grasp on sanity slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The persistent ache in his groin had bloomed into an all-consuming inferno, singeing away every ounce of his once-vaunted restraint.
He tried valiantly to cling to rational thoughts - reminders that you were the love of his life, his precious wife who deserved to be cherished and appreciated rather than rutted into oblivion at his basest whims. Ushijima wasn't some feral beast incapable of controlling his formidable lust, no matter how heavenly your body's siren call might be.
But such lofty ideals were rapidly crumbling against the onslaught of vivid memories and temptation at every turn. Simply watching you go about the most mundane household tasks was enough to reduce Ushijima to a vibrating mass of desperation, obsessively recalling every decadent way he'd claimed you in that same setting before.
The living room where you idly straightened decorative cushions immediately morphed into a garishly pornographic tableau in his mind's eye. He could clearly envision the way you'd been splayed across that very couch, legs hoisted over his straining shoulders as he pumped into you with harsh, jolting strokes. The debauched rhythmic sounds of skin smacking wetly against skin, punctuated by your broken gasps and whimpers for more, more, harder, deeper...
Ushijima's hands curled into white-knuckled fists as he willed the sordid visions away, jaw clenched so tightly he could hear his bones creaking in protest. Get a grip, he chastised himself harshly. She's not some depraved cocksleeve put on this earth solely for your pleasure. He adored and cherished you deeply - had sworn binding vows before the heavens to love, honor, and respect your sanctity just as fiercely as you committed your heart and body to him.
Yet those noble convictions crumbled like a flimsy sandcastle under the raging tide of his basest impulses whenever you wandered within arm's reach. Ushijima could practically feel the scorching phantom grip of your silken walls clinging to his aching length as you bent at the waist to gather laundry or retrieve items from lower cabinets. The sight of your lush backside wiggling hypnotically immediately triggered his body's muscle memory - of mounting you from behind, hips already pistoning greedily as he stuffed himself balls-deep into that creamy paradise with a guttural groan.
You didn't even seem to register his heated stare, focused as you were on domestic chores. But in Ushijima's mind's eye, you were already whimpering and keening, insides convulsing with each rapturous thrust as he took his well-earned marital rights over and over without reprieve. He could practically smell the musky aroma of your compounded arousal permeating the air, begging him to shed the last threads of his tattered control.
The longer he was forced to endure this agonizing denial of relieving himself inside your body's heavenly accommodations, the more Ushijima's composure began to unravel. His hands felt perpetually clammy with suppressed longing, hard cock straining needfully with every subtle wiggle or bend of your lush feminine frame as you remained blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing within him.
It was only a matter of time, Ushijima knew, before this torturous drought finally reached its breaking point and he reasserted himself as your virile, dominant caretaker. As your husband, staking his primal claim to breed you full over and over until you had no choice but to lie disheveled and sloppy with the sloshing overflow of his heady cum.
In a way, perhaps Ushijima mused feverishly, robbing you temporarily of his godly seed was an act of mercy. Because once the floodgates were finally breached, there would be no tempering the ravenous onslaught with which he intended to ravage and stake his ownership yet again. At last he understood the dire warnings his own friends and family had issued about not being able to control himself around his little wife.
So for your sake as much as his own, Ushijima continued his white-knuckled struggle to maintain the shrinking barriers of propriety and restraint, however momentary the reprieve. But with each passing moment in your smoldering presence, he felt those final fortifications crumbling at an exponential rate.
The couch cushions seemed to envelop Ushijima as he sank back, trying in vain to relax his tense muscles. His eyes were inexorably drawn to you, perched so tantalizingly on his lap as you happily snacked on treats from the pantry. Even this simple act of indulging in sweets somehow made his heart swell with tenderness.
You were a vision of cozy domesticity in that moment - casually dressed, hair slightly tousled, entirely at ease within the sanctuary of your shared home. Yet Ushijima couldn't help drinking in the sensual details of your form pressed against him. The gentle swell of your curves molding to his powerful thighs, the subtle floral scent of your perfumed skin surrounding him. Just being this close after days of forced distance made his insides churn with longing.
As if sensing his scrutiny, you glanced up with a warm smile. Ushijima's breath hitched at the unguarded adoration shining in your eyes. You were so beautiful, so precious to him. Without really thinking it through, he found himself leaning in, powerless to resist tasting those inviting lips.
The whisper-soft caress of your mouths meeting ignited an instantaneous firestorm within Ushijima's veins. He sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, hands tightening reflexively on your waist as the kiss deepened with heady fervor. Every fibre of his being thrummed with awakened desperation after being starved of your affections.
When you finally parted, you let out a breathless giggle. "Well someone clearly needed that," you teased gently, eyes sparkling with mirth and fondness. "The great Ushijima Wakatoshi getting so worked up over a little kiss..."
The warm ribbing sliced straight through Ushijima's haze of rekindled ardor, allowing clarity and a flicker of sheepish chagrin to return. Of course you'd find his churning restraint silly and overblown. To you, the past few days of self-imposed celibacy amounted to little more than a temporary, unnecessary hurdle of his own making.
"You’re making fun of me for holding back?" he couldn't resist rumbling in response, quirking one eyebrow challengingly. "Even when it’s taking everything in me not to ruin you right here, my wife?"
Rather than looking properly chastised, your eyes fairly danced with that same teasing gleam. "A struggle you seem to be failing at spectacularly, my love. This whole 'abstinence' idea was sweet but utterly pointless."
Ushijima drew in a sharp breath as your hand boldly traced the hard planes of his abdomen through his thin shirt. The simple caress felt like a lick of flame setting his insides ablaze with rekindled hunger. "You underestimate the importance of proper restraint and respect, my dearest. A man shouldn't mindlessly take and rut like some sort of—"
"Beast?" you cheerfully cut him off, emboldened fingers now trailing higher to fan against the sculpted ridges of his chest. "Is that what you were going to say? That you're some kind of ravenous animal who can't control their own lust around me?"
Despite your playful tone, your words sliced straight through Ushijima's tenuously reformed restraint. Because in his most unguarded of moments, that's precisely how he saw himself - a primal, shuddering mess reduced to bestial desperation by your very presence.
Chest heaving, he captured your meandering hand and quickly pinned it against the couch cushions in a vice-like grip. Your teasing grin faltered as you suddenly found yourself caged beneath his powerful frame, entire body radiating a scorching intensity.
"You mock what you don't understand," Ushijima growled in a low, gravelly timbre that made you shiver. “Every second near you is pure torture. Just one touch, and I lose all control…”
To punctuate his point, he rolled his hips firmly against yours, allowing you to feel the undeniable ridge of his cock straining needfully against the thin barriers between you. Your pupils flared, a tiny whimper escaping your lips in reflexive response as liquid heat flooded your features.
Ushijima continued in that same low, intense purr that seemed to reverberate straight to your core. “So you were right—I couldn’t fight it. Trying to deny how badly I want you is useless. Because in the end, I’m just a man who falls apart at the thought of being inside his wife again…”
After that heated moment of intensity, Ushijima took a deep, steadying breath and gently extricated himself from your provocative position. As much as every fiber of his being screamed to surrender fully to his primal urges, he couldn't bring himself to completely obliterate the last vestiges of his self-restraint.
Not yet, at least.
You let out a small huff of disappointment as he shifted away, leaving you flushed and aching on the couch. Ushijima's dark eyes drank in the petulant pout on your kiss-swollen lips and had to summon every ounce of willpower to avoid lunging right back in.
"Patience, my love," he rumbled, more to himself than to you. "We've waited this long..."
You shot him a look of pure skepticism. "Waited? For what, exactly? For you to completely lose your mind over some made-up idea that I need to be protected from your absolutely vanilla desires?"
Ushijima felt his brow furrow at your blunt phrasing. He opened his mouth to protest, but you barreled onward before he could get a word in.
"This whole self-imposed celibacy thing has been utterly ridiculous from the start. When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours?" You rose up on your knees to bracket his thighs, leaving you eye-level and effectively trapping him against your soft warmth. "I'm your wife, Wakatoshi. Your partner in every sense of the word. I don't need sheltering or restraint - I need you. All of you, utterly unrestrained."
Your hands cradled his face with unexpected tenderness even as your eyes burned with determination. "So stop holding back and treating me like something fragile that needs protection. I can handle everything you have to give and more."
The challenging spark in your gaze was like a physical caress against Ushijima's resolve. He could feel it shuddering under the weight of your conviction, cracking nearly beyond repair. You always had possessed an uncanny ability to strip away his loftiest barriers with just a few choice words and that utterly arresting stare.
"You know I only ever want to cherish and respect you," he managed in a hoarse murmur. "To keep you safe and honor the sanctity of our—"
Your lips sealed over his in a searing kiss that obliterated whatever noble justification still clung to the tip of his tongue. A harsh rumble reverberated up from Ushijima's chest as his arms instinctively wound around your body, returning the embrace with rising fervor. He could already feel his restraints unraveling, fragile hold over his brazen desires slipping with each ravenous clash of your mouths.
When you finally broke away, you were both panting harshly. Foreheads pressed together, you stared up at Ushijima from under your lashes in a way that made his blood pound.
"Keep your sanctity," you breathed in a tone of husky challenge. "I'll take the unchained desire of a man utterly obsessed with making me his..."
Ushijima's chest seized with a shuddering inhalation at the blatant gauntlet you'd thrown down. He could feel the quivering threads of his propriety and misguided chivalry rapidly fraying against your onslaught of temptation. You always did know just which buttons to push to bring him inexorably to the edge.
This time, he sensed you wouldn't be satisfied until he well and truly plunged over the precipice into the yawning chasm of his most selfish, rapacious hunger. And you knew perfectly well he lacked the fortitude to deny your deliciously provocative demand, even if he wanted to.
"Minx..." Ushijima growled, the endearment dripping with a low rumble of burgeoning capitulation. "You'll very much regret poking this beast until it—"
Whatever vaguely ominous warning he'd been about to issue evaporated the second your lips crashed against his once more. Ushijima instantly melted into the searing kiss, thick arms winding around your body as you pressed flush against his powerful frame.
For several heated moments you simply lost yourselves in the messy, urgent melding of your mouths. Tongues tangled and hands roamed with escalating fervor as you both surrendered to the smoldering need that had been cruelly denied for too long.
When you finally parted for air, Ushijima's eyes were dark twin pools of want, boring straight into your soul. His chest heaved with each ragged inhale, drawing your entranced gaze to the taut ridges of defined muscle and the V-lines which pointed lower still...
A soft whine nearly escaped your lips at that tempting visual. God, you wanted - no, needed - to feel all of him against you again with no barriers. The hot brand of his weight pinning you to the sheets, thick cock sheathing itself to the hilt in your aching, neglected depths—
Ushijima seemed to read the feverish need blazing across your features. His jaw clenched almost painfully and you saw the tendons in his neck strain as he visibly fought to maintain the last threads of restraint already disintegrating between you.
"Easy, sweetheart..." he managed in a low, guttural rumble that did absolutely nothing to soothe the burning riot of arousal dancing under your skin. If anything the pet name tumbling so naturally from his lips in that gravelly tone just stoked the flames higher.
You squirmed impatiently against him, purposefully pressing your softness against his hardening length in a silent, wanton entreaty. "Don't 'easy' me, Toshi," you huffed without an ounce of real rebuke, gaze locking blatantly on his kiss-swollen mouth. "I want you so damn bad right now, it's driving me crazy."
A rumbling groan vibrated from the depths of his chest at your blunt admission. You could see his composure rapidly unraveling at the prospect of your mutual desperation - the scorching temptation to shatter that fragile control and ravage one another without further restraint.
"You have no idea the willpower this is taking..." Ushijima ground out, calloused hands flexing against the swell of your hips almost involuntarily. "To deny myself the sweetness of being buried deep inside you again after being starved of it for so long..."
You felt your core clench at the hot promise laced into his strained words. Without consciously deciding, you hooked one leg around his thighs to pull his hips flush against your own. The thick ridge of his arousal ground deliciously against your clothed heat and you sucked in a sharp breath at the exquisite friction.
"Then stop denying us," you whispered throatily into the charged air between your lips, even as Ushijima stared down at you with a look of rapt, blazing torment. "Stop being so careful and just take what you-what we- need already, dammit..."
For one tantalizing heartbeat, you saw the naked desperation and hunger flare across his strong features. You held your breath, dizzy with hope and anticipation that he would finally let his deeply leashed passions loose upon you.
But then, almost as quickly, a muscle ticked in that sharp jawline and Ushijima's expression settled once more into a mask of strained resolve. He pulled back from the tempting cradle of your heat and thighs with a shuddering exhalation. "No...not like this," he rasped out, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than you as he averted his burning gaze briefly. "You don't know what you're asking for, my love..."
A sliver of real frustration lanced through your lust-fogged thoughts at his continued refusal to let himself surrender fully. "The hell I don't!" you snapped. "I'm asking for my husband to give me what I want, no holding back!"
Ushijima stared at you, chest heaving with the force of his inner restraint as you glared back defiantly. The simmering tension could have been cut with a knife. For a long moment, neither of you moved or spoke - you issuing an unspoken challenge, him fighting viciously against his instincts.
Then a sly look stole across your features. "You know what?" you said in a tone of feigned nonchalance. "Clearly I'm not going to get what I want from you tonight..."
You slid off the couch in one smooth motion, back pointedly turned to Ushijima as you sashayed towards the stairs with deliberate sway in your hips. "So I'll just take care of my needs myself, since you're too busy wrestling with your precious control."
The implication in your words was as blatant as it was effective. You heard Ushijima's sharp intake of breath behind you and couldn't resist glancing back over your shoulder. His entire body had gone rigid, fingers digging into the couch cushions as his eyes bored into you with an intensity that made your core clench.
Holding his burning stare, you very slowly dragged your hands up your body until they cupped your breasts through your thin shirt. You gave them a gentle squeeze, lips parting on a soft sigh of pleasure meant just for his viewing torment.
That seemed to be the final straw shattering Ushijima's tenuous grasp on restraint. With a guttural growl that sent lightning zinging down your spine, he surged off the couch in a blind rush towards you.
A bright peal of laughter burst from your lips as you whirled and bolted up the stairs, the thunder of his footsteps rapidly closing in behind. You could practically feel the scorching heat of his presence at your back as you raced down the hallway towards your bedroom sanctuary.
Just as you reached the open door, Ushijima's powerful arm whipped around your middle and wrenched you back against his heaving chest. You let out a breathless squeal of surprise and delight, struggling half-heartedly against his restraining hold.
"Let me go!" you gasped out between giddy giggles, even as your hips instinctively pressed back against the undeniable ridge of his arousal. "I told you I'd just take care of myself since you won't—"
The rest of your words were abruptly smothered as Ushijima spun you around and sealed his mouth over yours in a searing, desperate kiss. You melted against him with a muffled moan, dimly registering the way he easily scooped you up with one arm banded around your waist. Then you were moving, stumbling the few steps to fall in a tangle of limbs across the rumpled bedsheets.
When you finally surfaced for air, Ushijima was looming over you - body taut with barely restrained intensity, chest heaving, eyes dark molten pools of banked hunger. His fingers thread almost roughly through your hair, tilting your head back as he held your heated stare.
"You'll be the death of me, woman," he growled in that low rasp that never failed to make you shiver. "Pushing me to the very edge of control like some insatiable vixen..."
You shamelessly pressed your thighs together, feeling a fresh gush of arousal at his words and commanding presence towering over you. "Maybe I wouldn't have to push so hard if you'd just give us both what we desperately want already..."
The blatant challenge hung heavy in the charged air between you. Ushijima's jaw clenched almost painfully as his willpower seemingly waged one final war against his blazing desires. You could have sworn you saw a vein throb in his neck as he struggled to maintain his fracturing grasp on restraint.
Then, as if a switch had been thrown, the last of that iron control appeared to snap. Ushijima's features contorted into a look of dark rapture as he ducked down to rasp directly against your parted lips.
You could feel the scorching heat of his quick breaths fanning across your mouth as he held your unwavering stare. Ushijima's eyes had gone hooded, pupils blown wide with undisguised yearning in a way you'd never quite witnessed before. There was no pretense, no filtering or constraint remaining - just molten, primal need gazing back at you.
"Fuck..." The guttural profanity rumbled out before he could stop it, lending a gravelly edge to the deep timbre of his voice that made your insides turn to liquid fire. "You really weren't playing around, were you? Practically begging me to lose it and take what I want..."
His powerful body was pulled taut as a bowstring where it hovered over yours, every ridged muscle and tendon standing out in harsh relief. You could see the white-knuckled strain in his hands where they fisted the rumpled sheets on either side of your head. Ushijima appeared to be vibrating with the monumental effort of maintaining what little restraint still remained.
Shamelessly, you arched your back slightly to increase the tantalizing friction where your bodies weren't quite touching. You heard the sharp sound of Ushijima's indrawn breath and couldn't resist dragging your hooded gaze down his frame to the prominent ridge tenting against his pants mere inches away.
"Don't act so surprised," you murmured, proud of how your tone remained measured despite the escalating tension coiling low in your belly. "We both know how long you've been dying to wreck me like you haven't been able to all week..."
Ushijima visibly shuddered at your candid vulgarity, but didn't rebuke you. If anything, his eyes seemed to darken further into bottomless pools of banked fire. "Say it again," he demanded in a low rasp that bordered on guttural. "Tell me exactly what I've been too weak to take..."
You felt a burst of fresh arousal flood your veins at his blatant request, at the undisguised savagery flickering behind his intense stare. Ushijima wasn't playing coy or dancing around the issue with courtly pretenses any longer. He was stripping away every last veneer of propriety to reveal the rapacious, unrestrained beast you'd been trying to rouse all along.
Holding his heated regard, you deliberately shifted your hips in a slow, circular grind against the tantalizing bulge of his cock. A punched-out groan reverberated from Ushijima's parted lips at the blatant provocation.
"I want you..." you breathed out, voice already gone husky with burgeoning desire, "...to use this needy pussy however you need to, whenever you want. No more being a good little housewife, waiting for you to tie yourself into knots over being 'gentle'..."
Ushijima sucked in a sharp breath through his bared teeth, hips twitching minutely in an aborted grind against you. His mouth seemed to work wordlessly for a moment, transfixed by the searing promises tumbling so shamelessly from your lips.
"Keep going..." he all but growled when he finally regained his words. "Don't stop now, my love...not when I'm this fucking close to snapping completely and taking you up on that offer..."
You felt another frisson of heady arousal tingle through your veins at Ushijima's rasped demand, at the way his desire-darkened eyes bored into you with a blazing intensity.
Squirming against the mattress, you hooked one leg deliberately around his tensed thighs, savoring the low groan that punched out of his chest as you effectively trapped his rigid length against your scalding heat through the thin barrier of clothes.
"I want you to stop holding back..." you husked, lips brushing tantalizingly against the sharp line of his jaw as you rolled your hips in a slow, filthy grind. "No more being so careful, like I'm some fragile thing that needs protecting..."
Ushijima's thick forearms flexed against the sheets, muscles straining with the herculean effort to keep from pinning you fully beneath his massive frame and slaking his feral need. You could practically see the last fragile threads of his vaunted restraint disintegrating before your very eyes.
"I can take whatever you want to give, Toshi," you continued in a breathy murmur against the thundering pulse at his throat. "I'm your wife, made to take that big fucking cock however you crave it...to be stuffed so full over and over until I'm nothing but a shaking, sloppy mess drowning in your cum..."
A harsh, strangled sound rumbled out of Ushijima at your filthy words, hips jerking helplessly to grind his steel-hard length against your molten center with bruising force. His eyes slammed shut, sharp features contorted into an expression of rapturous abandon as he finally surrendered what little control still remained.
In one explosive motion, Ushijima crashed his mouth against yours in a messy, claiming kiss that left you both gasping and devouring each other with unbridled desperation. His thick arms wrapped around you like bands of steel, crushing your pliant curves against his unyielding hardness as the kiss rapidly descended into frenzied need.
"Fuck yes..." he growled out harshly between messy clashes of tongue and teeth, divesting you both of clothing in a frantic blur. "That's it, darling...beg for it like the filthy little cumslut you are..."
The vulgar profanity tumbled so naturally off his tongue in a way you'd never experienced before, stoking the bonfire in your core to incandescent levels. You could only whine in answer, nails dragging stinging welts down his sculpted back as Ushijima at last sealed your naked bodies together with low, rapturous groan of pure masculine satisfaction.
He was already rock-hard and throbbing where he lay flush against your thigh, the scorching heat radiating off his thick arousal making your mouth water. Without conscious thought, you found yourself grinding up against his length, coating it in a sticky sheen of your dripping arousal.
Ushijima groaned at the delicious, filthy friction, large hand gripping the swell of your ass in a viselike hold. "So wet already," he rasped out, dark eyes drinking in the sight of your bodies grinding shamelessly against one another. "My dirty wife is practically creaming herself just from the promise of getting her needy little cunt wrecked..."
You felt a shuddering moan bubble up from the depths of your chest at his crude assessment, at the unrepentant savagery gleaming in those molten eyes. Ushijima's gaze locked on your face, his free hand dragging through the slick pooling at the apex of your thighs before he raised it to your lips.
"Open," he rasped out in a voice gone hoarse with lust. You eagerly obeyed, parting your swollen lips just enough to lap up the taste of your own arousal coating his fingers. A shudder wracked through Ushijima's powerful frame as he watched your sinful ministrations, hips twitching involuntarily in search of friction.
"Good girl..." The endearment dripped like honey from his mouth, a stark contrast to the savage gleam of his eyes and the thick cock straining insistently against your hip. "So sweet for me, always eager to please and be used, aren't you?"
His words sent a hot shiver down your spine and made you clench with need. With a low, throaty whimper, you pulled away from his fingers and gazed up at Ushijima with a look of burning supplication. "Please, Toshi...I-I need—"
A soft, startled cry escaped you as his fist closed around the front of your top and ripped it open in a single rough motion. You watched, spellbound, as he did the same to the rest of your garments with little finesse, shredding them like tissue paper and tossing the scraps aside without a second glance before turning his ravenous gaze back to your exposed form.
For a few seconds, he just stared at you in awe, blatant reverence and hunger written across his chiseled features as his fingers worked to remove the rest of his clothing. Then, his entire body covered yours once more, hot flesh pressing you firmly into the sheets as Ushijima captured your mouth in a scorching kiss.
"I need to be inside you, darling," he gasped out between hungry nips and licks, "right now."
Your thighs instinctively parted in open invitation, hips canting towards him in blatant need. Ushijima settled into the cradle of your pelvis and his eyes locked onto the lewd view of his rigid length sliding against your glistening folds.
A guttural, animalistic growl vibrated up from the depths of his chest as he gripped his shaft and slowly dragged the thick head through the slippery mess pooling at your entrance. His other hand tangled in the sheets next to your head, fisting them tightly as his eyes snapped shut and he shuddered above you.
Your nails raked down the tensed muscles of his back as he repeated the motion, teasing your hypersensitive folds with agonizing deliberation. A soft whimper bubbled from your lips at the slow drag of his cockhead against your clit, at the searing heat and girth rubbing tortuously against you.
"Toshi..."
He was poised at your entrance now, tip notched just inside and pulsing enticingly, but still he hesitated. Your hands gripped his hips, silently pleading him to give you what you craved so desperately.
Ushijima's eyes opened, blazing down into yours as he held himself perfectly still. "Tell me again..." he rasped out in a tone laced with an underlying note of dark command. "Tell me exactly how much you need this."
You let out a frustrated moan and squirmed beneath him, trying desperately to press him deeper. "Need it so bad, Toshi, please!" you begged, shamelessly arching into him and spreading yourself wider. "Need you to fuck me and fill me with cum until I can't move—please, Toshi, please—"
His thick length slicked through your drenched folds in one slick glide, sheathing itself to the throbbing root with a single rough snap of his powerful hips. The harsh stretch of being reamed open by his girth made your eyes roll back, mouth dropping open on a broken keen of sheer bliss.
"That's it...ahh fuck, missed this gorgeous little cunt so damn much..." Ushijima's harsh rumble was utterly wrecked, all sense of composure or decorum evaporating as he drilled himself home over and over in a ruthless cadence.
You could only cling to his heaving shoulders, completely unraveled beneath his ferocious onslaught and utterly drunk on the searing stretch and delicious ache of being so thoroughly taken once more. It had been a week since you'd been stuffed full, and your body hadn't quite adjusted to his sheer size after the long absence.
The friction was mind-blowing, the way his girth speared you so full and deep, forcing your walls to accommodate his unyielding length with every powerful stroke. It was all you could do to breathe and hold onto Ushijima's broad shoulders, body trembling as he hammered you into the mattress with ruthless intent.
His dark eyes roved hungrily across the way your breasts jiggled from the force of his thrusts, the way his cock disappeared so completely inside you, the lewd mess he was making of your cunt. Your name slipped past his lips, a guttural curse, a plea, a prayer as he pounded into you, his gaze flicking back and forth between where your bodies were joined and the unabashed pleasure etched across your flushed features.
"Look at that...you can see where I'm splitting you wide open..." he grunted out in a strained tone, his free hand dragging roughly down the length of your torso to press against the bulge that appeared in your belly with every punishing thrust.The other braced his weight against the headboard, fingers clenching the wooden slats with bruising force.
Your mind went blank as he increased his pace, the lewd sound of your sloppy, dripping core echoing throughout the room and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the telltale tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, a familiar pressure mounting in response to the delicious stretch and friction of Ushijima's relentless rhythm.
"Ahhh, god, Toshi—I-I'm close—" you babbled, feeling the coil wind ever tighter, teetering precariously on the brink of release. "I'm gonna cum, please, harder, fuck—I need—"
The rest of your desperate plea was swallowed in a low moan as Ushijima leaned back on his knees, hauling your legs up and over his shoulders and folding you in half. You felt the change immediately, his cockhead now slamming ruthlessly into your deepest, most sensitive spots.
A choked sob spilled from your lips as you clung to his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so thoroughly stretched and filled. You'd lost all sense of time or control, reduced to a quivering, sloppy mess as your husband's thick length pistoned into your overstimulated pussy.
The angle was even deeper than before, his powerful hips snapping with a vicious, rapid-fire intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. He was hitting the perfect spot with every brutal thrust, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every drive of his hips, the lewd, wet sounds of your dripping core filling the air and mingling with his ragged grunts.
"Cum for me," he growled, eyes locked on your face as his tempo grew even more brutal. "Be a good girl and cum on this cock, just like you promised..."
As if your body was obeying his command rather than your own, a white-hot, overwhelming pleasure crashed over you. You arched and shook as wave after wave of blinding euphoria rolled through your veins. Ushijima continued pumping into you, riding out the aftershocks and prolonging your release as you cried out and trembled beneath him.
He groaned deep in his chest as your walls clenched and rippled around him, his own orgasm rapidly building with each passing second. "Fuck, I can feel you milking me," he bit out harshly, hands gripping the meat of your ass and angling you higher to better suit his frenzied pace. "So fucking tight and greedy, my darling wife..."
Ushijima's thrusts were growing more erratic, the rhythm of his hips stuttering as his cock swelled even thicker and longer. You moaned softly, feeling his girth stretch you almost impossibly wider. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, body quaking and oversensitive but still wanting more.
"F-fill me, Toshi," you begged breathlessly, gazing up at him with a look of sheer supplication. "Need to feel you cum deep inside, please..."
With a sharp groan, Ushijima's eyes slammed shut and his entire body tensed as the first thick spurt of his seed pumped into you. You shivered, moaning at the feeling of his hot, sticky release coating your insides. He was still cumming, his throbbing cock pulsing with each successive pump of his release.
Your walls fluttered around him, milking him dry and prolonging the mind-blowing pleasure as he continued to fuck you through it. Ushijima's eyes remained clenched shut, features twisted in a look of pure rapture as he pumped you full.
After several more thrusts, he finally came to a stop, breathing heavily. A satisfied smile stretched across his face as his eyes opened and fixed on your fucked-out expression. He slowly pulled out, a mixture of his cum and yours leaking from your well-used hole and dripping down your thighs.
"Mmm, look at the mess you made..." he murmured, fingers trailing down to gather some of the slick and smearing it over the reddened, swollen lips of your pussy. "Maybe I should make it even dirtier and stuff it all back inside, hm?"
Ushijima didn't wait for a reply before his thumb dragged through the sloppy, frothy mix and pushed the mess back into your twitching cunt. A small sound slipped past your lips as you felt him work his thick load deeper inside, fingers lazily pumping the rest of his cum into your dripping pussy.
He was already hardening again, his shaft throbbing where it lay thick and heavy against his thigh. You moaned softly at the sight, hips grinding involuntarily as your spent cunt clenched around his fingers.
"What should we do for round two, hmm?" Ushijima's dark gaze burned into yours, voice gone rough with desire once more. "I have several ideas in mind, but I think I'd love to see you ride me...show me what a good girl you are and take what you need, just like you promised."
Your cunt gave another helpless spasm, arousal flooding anew through your veins. It was going to be a very long night, indeed.
More Posts from What-the-jams and Others
just imagine taunting touya or katsuki while having sex… asking if he can handle you… telling him he can’t make you cum
i am losing my mind 😭 i love ur works!
friend, this is…. diabolical. I LOVE IT. [and thank you.] /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ
༝ ᭝ ༝ brief warning for some degradation used by touya. ༝ ᭝ ༝
master list link. ༝ ᭝ ༝ @pixelcafe-network
༝ ᭝ ༝ katsuki ༝ ᭝ ༝
This is something I can see very clearly happening when you first start having sex with Katsuki.
It’s the third or fourth time. The burn in your thighs worsens the longer you bounce on Katsuki’s cock, and sweat beads in the valley between your tits, trailing down your sternum.
Surprisingly enough, it didn’t become like pulling teeth to convince him to hand over the reigns.
Now, you brace your hands on his firm, flushed chest, supporting your weight, and roll your hips back and forth in his lap. The tip of his cock is pressed firm against your g-spot, and you’re rewarded with hot sparks of pleasure bursting in your pelvis with each slow circle of your hips.
Katsuki’s fingers dig desperately into your waist, nails pinching your skin, and his breath catches when your pussy squeezes him. His lids flutter, a low moan spills from his lips.
You slow your hips, just to tease, and study the open and fucked out expression on his face. Then you grin.
“You sure you can handle me Katsuki?” You taunt, a sweet heat curling up your spine when you push your hips back even harder.
Katsuki scowls, the pink blush on his cheeks turning scarlet. “Fuck you. I can handle you just fine.” He jerks his hips upwards to emphasize his point, cock sinking in even further.
Your small, delighted gasp dances in the air, pussy clenching on its own accord. “Pretty sure I’m fucking you. You already look like you’re about to cum. What, a big bad hero like you not gonna be able to make me cum this time?” With a smug smile you lean in close, nails biting into his pecs as you whisper. “I thought you were supposed to be number one at everything, Dynamight.”
Katsuki’s eyebrow twitches, jaw clenching tight as he grinds his teeth to dust.
“You think I can’t make that fuckin’ pussy cum, princess?” He grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes too hard, lip tugging into a sneer. Your pulse thunders from the sharp sting, the heat in your belly rising a few notches. “You’re gonna scream my name. Better yet, I’ll make you cry out for “Dynamight”, but he won’t save you.” A wolfish grin curls the corners of his mouth.
Your lips part in surprise as he shoves you off his lap, soft blankets cushioning your fall. He manhandles you like a rag doll onto your belly, yanking your hips into the air, looming over your back to shove your face into the sheets with hand to the base of your skull.
“Katsuki!” Your cry gets muffled by the sheets, a calloused palm raining down on your ass so harshly you’re certain his handprint will remain as evidence. He laughs meanly, readjusts his hips, and pushes the slick tip of his cock to your pussy.
He clicks his tongue behind his teeth in disapproval. “That’s not the right name, princess.” His voice is strains as he slides back inside you, bottoming out with a harsh smack of his hips against your ass. He plants one hand by your head and tangles his fingers through your hair with the other, yanking your head off the mattress. “Go on, cry out for Dynamight,” he murmurs in your ear, warm breath tickling your skin.
Katsuki draws his hips back, cock slipping out halfway, then snaps them forward to fill you back up.
“Dynamight!” You wail, your next breath becoming a choked off gasp.
His chest rumbles with a moan. “That’s what I was lookin’ for, such a good girl.”
By the end of it, you’re a jelly limbed pile of mush in his bed, voice scratchy from overuse. You’re never going to let him live down the fact that’s it’s so damn easy to get under his skin.
༝ ᭝ ༝ touya ༝ ᭝ ༝
Pushing your boyfriend to his limit usually results in being burned.
It’s not a secret that Touya is terrible at keeping his cool, hotheaded temper rising to the surface whenever you take it a step too far. But, to you, the ends justify the means. Especially when it comes to sex.
“Hell yes, fuck yourself back on my cock just like that baby. So goddamn hot,” Touya says through his teeth, one scarred hand resting on your tailbone to guide your movement. Your fingers fist the pillow supporting your head, cheeks blistering with heat as you work his cock in and out of your pussy. The hot, slick friction is amazing, but not enough.
You pant softly, frustration welling in your belly. “Yeah? It’d be even hotter if you put in any effort to make me cum,” you bite back. Touya stiffens behind you, fingers gripping your hips with intent to bruise. He yanks you backwards, forcing a yelp out of you when the tip of his cock shoves up against your cervix. You squirm with discomfort, unable to move an inch.
“The fuck did you just say?” There’s a warning in his tone that prickles at the nape of your neck.
You brush it off, continuing to dig your own grave. “You heard me.” You glare at him over your shoulder before turning back. “Seems like you can’t handle me.” You rest your flushed cheek on the cool fabric of your pillow.
For a second, you’re certain you’ve stunned him. Then, the skin on your hips starts to sizzle under his palms. It’s bright and searing, stealing your breath for a moment, and then you’re forced to roll onto your back.
Touya bullies his cock back inside you without another word, hand molding along the bottom of your jaw to keep your mouth shut. The look in his eyes is wild, a cruel grin on his lips when he leans in close until a centimeter is all that separates you. Your heart jumps to your throat, kickstarting a rush of adrenaline.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are talking to me like that, sweetheart. But you’re lucky as hell I want to be inside your tight little pussy so badly.” Touya starts to rock his hips. “Otherwise I’d leave you alone and go jerk myself off.”
Your eyes dart across Touya’s face, his blue eyes bright with mania. A sick sense of satisfaction curls in your chest as you manage to keep yourself from smiling. He’s playing right into your hands, just like every other time.
Touya releases your jaw, hooking his hands under the backs of your knees and pushes until they sink into the mattress, folding you like a blanket. The angle makes it feel like his cock’s inside your stomach and you gasp, clutching at scarred wrists.
“Right there Touya, please!” Your back arches with your words, Touya rewarding you with a heavy thrust. He rolls his eyes, but he bends to your whim and picks up his pace. He smirks like he’s the one in control, lids lowering as his gaze stays glued to where he disappears inside you.
“My little whore,” he coos. “You’re not gettin’ any relief until you fuckin’ squirt for me, do you understand?” There’s no room for argument in his voice, and you nod, goosebumps littering your arms.
You’ll taunt him again and again and fucking again, if only to drive him up the wall and provoke him into rearranging your guts.
😐
“is this okay?”
when eijirou looks up from his phone, you gesture to the outfit you’d just put on for mina’s party.
“y-yeah,” he coughs, clearing his throat. the flush in his cheeks deepens. “you look incredible.”
“and you’re okay?” you ask. “if i wear this out, i mean.”
eijirou’s brows pull together as he blinks at you, seemingly trying to figure out if he heard you right. he sounds a little offended when he says, “babe. you’re not seriously asking me that.”
when you don’t immediately respond, he crosses his arms. starts soapboxing a little about how it’s his responsibility, as a man, to challenge toxic masculinity and the patriarchy. and telling his girlfriend what to wear is being part of the problem, not the solution.
then, he scrubs the back of his neck with a big hand, somehow managing to look both sheepish and cocky when he adds, as an afterthought, “..... and i can fight.”
the house was quiet today.
it wasn't rare, but this kind of quiet was different. still. heavy. soft in a way that made your chest ache.
sukuna sat on the couch, one arm curled protectively around your newborn daughter, her tiny body pressed against his chest. she wore the tiny knitted hat you picked out—white with kitten ears—and strands of her soft pink hair peeked out from beneath it, sticking up since they refused to behave.
his other hand held a crumpled piece of paper, gifted with pride by the small artist on a sugar-high right now, bouncing around the living room. your son, still learning how to pronounce his "r"s, had grinned wide with his toothless mouth and yelled, "i drew us!" before dashing off to play again.
sukuna stared at the drawing, red eyes darting around the paper like he was analyzing every detail. or trying to make sense of whatever a four-year-old could manage to draw.
three stick figures, one labeled "me," with messy hair, a big open mouth, and two teeth missing from the middle. another labeled as "mommy," in a giant, triangular pink dress with stars and hearts all over, holding a little pink scribble labeled as "sister," and "daddy"— huge, lopsided, four arms, fangs, and "ROAR" scrawled next to his head in red crayon.
you sat down beside him, resting your chin on his shoulder. "he's so proud of it."
"...i look like a demon," he muttered, eyes still locked on the page.
"you are one, sometimes." you teased gently, "but he still thinks you're the coolest."
he went quiet again, then exhaled. something unsteady in his breath. "i didn't want this," he admitted quietly, his voice low like he confessed to something awful. "didn't think i had it in me. didn't think i'd be any good."
you glanced down at the way he was holding your daughter. soft. careful. his thumb brushing over the rim of her hat, her pink hair catching the light.
"you're better than good, su. they adore you." you said, your own expression softening as you ran your fingers through his hair.
you kissed his arm, right above where your daughter's tiny hand was curled in his skin.
"you're doing good, daddy," you whispered. "even if you do look like a monster in crayon."
he chuckled, and the sound was raw. honest. he pressed the drawing to his daughter's back like a shield and held her just a little tighter.
"she's never gonna draw me like that," he muttered. "right?"
you smiled. "nope. she'll make you a princess."
"...i'd frame it."
ུᩧ JJK TWITTER LINKS P3 !
৻ꪆ instructions. before clicking, you must be logged into your acc and have twitter open in order for these links to function .
TOJI FUSHIGURO. ꒱
plap plap plap. ⋆ reversed cowgirl. ⋆ penetration + fingering. ⋆ demolishing your pussy. ⋆ exhibitionism. ⋆ pounding you from the back. ⋆ breath play. ⋆ you’re so easy to break. ⋆ riding him.
CHOSO KAMO. ꒱
jerking him off while making out. ⋆ choso being affectionate. ⋆ working your hand on him. ⋆ polite roughhousing. ⋆ worshiping you. ⋆ gameplay. ⋆ overstimulation. ⋆ 69ing. ⋆ bdsm.
NANAMI KENTO. ꒱
idk but the watch is soooo giving nanami. ⋆ thrusting inside his cute girl. ⋆ sitting on his lap. ⋆ wearing tiny skirts to get him to fuck you. ⋆ touching you. ⋆ what a pretty sight. ⋆ riding him.
GOJO SATORU. ꒱
his way of taking care of you. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ rubbing your clit. ⋆ mutual masturbation. ⋆ gojo coded. ⋆ folded missionary. ⋆ grinding yourself on him. ⋆ semi-public. ⋆ spooning you.
GETO SUGURU. ꒱
ghostface leaving you brainfucked. ⋆ cnc w ghostface. ⋆ helping you shove a dildo up your hole. ⋆ fingering you while pampering you with kisses. ⋆ fucking you too good. ⋆ bath sex.
SUKUNA RYOMEN. ꒱
nasty backshots. ⋆ he only feeds his cock to bimbos. ⋆ taped up cunt. ⋆ bdsm. ⋆ hes so mean when fucking you. ⋆ headlock. ⋆ at his service. ⋆ manhandling. ⋆ pounding you from below.
This is what I imagine when reading nerdjo fanfics
Art credits @nekozuu_ from instagram
repost :p
a knock on your boyfriend, bakugo’s door of his dorm room causes a groan to escape his lips, unwrapping his arms from you where you were both previously cuddled up while watching a movie on your laptop.
“who’s that?”, you ask, still laid up in his bed as you watch him get up while marching to his door with pure attitude.
“probably them damn extras again.”, he complains with a grumble, opening his door to find kaminari, kirishima and sero stood there with large smiles on their faces.
“what’s with your goofy faces? and why are you knocking on my door at 10pm?”, he questions, a scowl plastered on his face.
“we were wondering if you wanted to come play this new game with us?”, kirishima asks, holding up a video game you know your boyfriend has been wanting to try out for a while now.
he leans against the doorframe, “well, i’m with my girlfriend right now.”
“yeah but you’ve wanted to play this for a while, right? i’m sure she’ll be fine with it.”, kaminari reasons, sero nodding along with him.
letting out the biggest sigh he could, bakugo replies, “yeah whatever, let me ask her.”, shutting his door halfway so the boys couldn’t see bakugo’s little act he was about to pull off.
“you can go if you want, i don’t mind.” you say softly, turning your head away from the movie you were just watching. you really didn’t mind if he wanted to hang out with his friends since he spent majority of his time with you anyway.
he frowns at your response, mouthing a ‘be quiet’ before opening the door once again after a minute or so, seeing their anticipated smiles.
“yeah she said no.”, bakugo shrugs through his lie nonchalantly, causing you to whip your head back around at him while furrowing your brows.
was this man trying to make his friends hate you?
“well, do you really need to be asking your girlfriend for permission, dude? seems kinda toxic..”, kaminari starts, scratching the back of his head with an awkward look on his face.
“are you questioning her?”, bakugo questions, his voice slightly raised as he holds his usual angry face when anyone mentions anything he doesn’t like about you.
he’s always been protective like that. although, you do wonder if that’s the reason why most of the boys seem a little too cautious around you and always refuse to train with you. bakugo always tells you not to worry about it.
“nah, course not, bro. we’ll play another time it’s fine.”, kirishima steps in, holding his hands up while giving a light hearted laugh, trying to cool bakugo’s behaviour.
“yeah, yeah, fine. whatever.”, bakugo rolls his eyes, shooing off his friends before turning back to you, the angered expression he once had completely wiped off.
his sight finally falls back onto you as he walks back over and getting comfortable in his bed again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest as he interlocks his legs with yours.
if anyone saw the position bakugo was in now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes. angry, aggressive bakugo laid up with a girl, holding onto her so gently as he kisses her forehead, watching some bullshit movie you know he has no interest in watching, and all for his sweet little girlfriend who everyone now seems to think holds him hostage so he can’t hang out with his boys.
and all because he simply just wants to spend all his time with his girlfriend.
“you’re such a lover boy.”, you smile at him, knowing how embarrassed he gets when you say things like this.
“shut up.”, he grumbles, partly hiding his face in the covers as he continues watching the movie with you, back where he wanted to be.
he knows you’re right. you have this man absolutely whipped for you and he couldn’t even care less about it.
© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work
haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 1 of 3
wc: 22k (!!!!!!!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: loss of virginity, very soft sex (hand-holding during sex), lots of kissing, protected sex, haechan fucks...a lot, fingering, oral (f receiving), very faint corruption kink, JEALOUSY, possessiveness (marking, signing on your body), handjob, car sex, cumplay, spit, exhibitionism (!), slight dumbification, slight degradation, titty-sucking etc, sweet aftercare a/n: i worked a lot on this and i really hope u like it.... i really hope it's hot... i hope u like rockstar haechan...please let me know what u think... (fic playlists) | browse the fic tag :)
he's been staring at you all night.
the bass thrums insistent in your chest, overriding your heartbeat, as you cling onto the barrier between the stage and the crowd. lights flash before your eyes, almost blinding you with how fast they blinked, and you can barely make out the faces of the boys onstage as they play their last song of the night. the air is damp, excitement riding high over the crowd in waves of endless screams that never seem to stop.
and the boy on the far right, fingers moving deftly over the strings of his electric guitar, hasn't taken his eyes off you for the last five minutes.
a sharp smile tugs at his lips, smokey makeup making his gaze ever more piercing as he looks down at you through his overgrown bangs, hairs at the nape of his neck unruly and wild. the lights throw the features of his face into high contrast, the tattoos curling on his neck and hip screaming for attention, as do the glint of jewelry scattered everywhere on his body. you feel smaller and smaller under his gaze, something lewd about the way he runs his tongue over his lips, eyes practically undressing you. he never seemed to stop moving his body as he played, bouncing on his toes or letting his body lean away from the sound, the music fuelling and becoming one with his movements as if he were a dancer.
as the music crashes and swells towards the end of his solo, his eyes slide over to yours with a practiced precision, as if he had memorized your position in the crowd. swaying his hips from side to side, his eyelids droop just slightly into a half-lidded stare, as he ruts his hips playfully against his guitar.
the screams of the other fans are deafening, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of your heartbeat in your own ears.
haechan finally looks away, a small smile on his face as he signals to his bandmates towards the song's ending. you feel almost empty as the weight of his attention lifts off of you, pressing yourself up against the railing on tip-toe to try and catch his eye again before sinking down and feeling like an idiot.
he was just doing fanservice for an audience member, nothing more. you try not to find his actions endearing as he slings his arm around the lead singer, mark, his surprisingly boyish laugh making your heart flutter in your chest as he waves towards his fans one more time.
people are leaving the venue, the sounds of their excitement getting further and further away, but you stand there, reeling, clutching onto the metal barrier, sure that if you took your hands off it you would fall. finally, glancing up at the stage one last time, you're just about to leave to find your friend, the only reason you were even here, when –
"leaving so soon?"
the boy is sitting on the stage right in front of you, leaning forward so you can see his face clearly. up close, he's even prettier than before, delicate almost doll-like legs wrapped under ripped skinny jeans, leading up to thick and toned thighs, his slender waist shadowed under his large leather jacket ridden with buckles and straps. without the bright stage lights, you can see the moles on his skin, tracing a dangerous path under the collar of his shirt.
at your lack of response, he raises his eyebrows. "i asked if you were leaving, princess."
"i have to find my friend," the words come out rushed. "um…jaemin? your band hired him tonight as the photographer."
"i remember," he nods. "so…you're not a fan?"
"no." he nods, silence filling the space between the both of you. you can see him start to formulate a goodbye, his heart-shaped lips parting, but you don't want the conversation to end, you don't want him to stop looking at you. "- but…i really enjoyed your show."
he looks a little surprised, and a genuine smile spreads sweetly across his face. "why?" he challenges.
"what?"
"what did you like about our show?" his eyes glint, and you know he's teasing you.
"the songs were good," you mumble.
"yeah?" he licks his lips, a slight hint of nervousness showing on his face as he clears his throat. "who was your favorite member?"
"huh?"
"your favorite band member," he repeats, tilting his head to the side. "jeno, he's our drummer, mark's the lead singer, jisung plays bass and i…" he waves his hand absentmindedly towards his guitar, on the stand, still onstage behind him. "i'm haechan," he adds.
if you wanted to get to know him, it wouldn't hurt to show a little of exactly how much you liked him, would it? "you were my favorite," you admit. "you…you have really good stage presence," you blurt out.
"stage presence?"
"yeah. when i'm in the crowd…i can't really pay attention to anything else. and you…" you swallow, heat burning up your cheeks, but the way his eyes were looking at you with curiosity making you finish your thought. "you make the audience feel like they want to please you." the unspoken truth, that you, as part of the audience, wanted to please him, hangs in the air.
your embarrassment, at saying something so suggestive and raw, is quickly washed away by the smile tugging at the corner of his lip, a smirk that quickly spreads across his face into a grin. you're so mesmerized by it, that you're taken aback by the way he suddenly shifts, hopping down the stage lightly and standing in front of you.
"princess," he says, softly, placing his hands on the railing next to yours so the sides of your fingers barely brush. "do you want to come to a party?"
you resist the urge to immediately say yes. "what party?"
"there's one after every show. jaemin will have been invited, he can take you." the venue has emptied out, even his bandmates have left the stage. and yet, his voice is pitched low as he leans in, body warmth radiating off of him, and you are so close, you can see the smudged eyeliner on his lower lash line, can make out the grey of his colored contact lenses. "you can find me there."
"but…" you feel lost. "why can't you just take me?"
"if we show up together, it'll seem a little like we're dating, no?" his voice is quiet, but firm.
hurt and confusion blossoms in your chest. was it really that serious? keeping your voice as nonchalant as possible, you ask, "would that be so bad? for…for us to date?”
but you know it's the wrong thing to say.
he exhales slowly, a brief look of pain flitting over his features. he hated doing this, hated reaching the point in conversations where rules and boundaries had to be discussed. nights where he found his girls at the party were the easiest, letting body language and long glances do the talking, as few strings attached as possible.
but today he couldn't stop looking at you, in the front row, couldn't help sliding his eyes over and checking to see if you were watching him, a pleased thrum burning in his chest every time his gaze found yours. it seemed logical, to spend his time with you tonight. but if he'd known you'd felt like this, he never would have waited onstage.
"what's your name, princess?"
"y/n."
"y/n, i'm not making you my girlfriend," he states, bluntly. "i can't, and i don't want to. you can meet me at the party later, but we'll just fuck – nothing else."
his words make you feel small, his tone harsh compared to his previous meandering way of speaking. even then, the thought of letting him walk away, to never see him again, to end this story on this moment, made you feel worse than anything.
at the look on your face, he softens slightly.
"i'm sorry if you thought this was going to be more," he says, quietly. "you don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"i do," you correct him. frustrated, he sighs, and you rush to clarify. "i'll meet you at the party. just…nothing else." your end off hesitantly, unwilling to echo his crude words.
"are you sure?" you think you see his gaze darken, the tension suddenly heightening as he places one of his large hands over your own. his guitar-calloused fingertips are rough as they slide against the back of your hand, drawing shapes that burn into your skin like tattoos. you nod, but he shakes his head — slowly, sweetly patient. "i need to hear you say it," he murmurs, and the words go straight to your gut.
"i'm sure." your voice comes out as a whisper, but he doesn't seem to mind. he leans in, and just when you think your lips are going to meet, your mouth parting expectantly, he tilts his head and kisses you softly on your cheek.
"make sure no one sees you, princess," he murmurs, low in your ear, before straightening up. "don't make me wait too long, hm?"
—
"did anyone follow you up here?"
haechan sits with his legs hanging off the edge of the roof, arms slung over one of the lower rungs of the railing. he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes another drink from his bottle of red wine, knowing that you're hanging onto his every word.
"no," you reply, voice barely louder than a whisper. you repeat yourself again, louder, hating the way your voice shakes with hesitance. "no, i don't think so."
he exhales, shrugging off the leather jacket that hangs large over his frame, his shoulderblades moving under his white shirt, veiny arms pushing the bottle to the side as he shifts himself backwards fluidly so he's further away from the ledge, his long legs stretched out.
"well?" and now he turns to look at you, dark eyes framed with makeup searching for yours, his gaze heavy. the piercing on his eyebrow glints in the moonlight, and when he leans his weight back on his hands, his shirt rides up so that you can see just the hint of a tattoo curling low on his hip. "are you ready?"
feet unsteady, you shuffle over to him, standing over him as he watches you through hooded eyes. unsure, you start to sit down next to him, but a hand quickly reaches out to touch your knee, dragging his touch up the back of your thigh, the cold scrape of his rings on your skin feeling rough and claiming all at once. his lips part almost mockingly, commanding you without words to stop.
he flicks his gaze down to his lap, eyes flickering back up to yours. eyebrows raised, as if in a challenge.
slowly, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands hesitantly grasping for his shoulders. his arms come to steady your waist, slipping under your shirt and touching bare skin, feeling the way your body shifts and moves. it's only because your body is pressed up against his, his hands are roaming up and down your thighs, that he notices something which makes him halt his movements, licking his lips.
"you're shaking," he murmurs, now brushing the hair out of your eyes, tucking a strand behind your ear as he studies you, taking in the way you're all tensed up, the uncomfortable way your legs are folded, goosebumps erupting every time his fingertips brushed your skin, muscles trembling.
you swallow. "i've never done this before," you admit.
his eyes widen, now removing his hands from you entirely, letting them fall. "you're a virgin?"
you nod, heart pounding in your chest. he's looking away, his jaw set, his gaze hardened. did he hate that you had no experience? or would he enjoy that? "i can…" the words come out in a jumble, "you can teach me, i want… i want to-"
"no." with surprising gentleness, he motions for you to move off his lap, and you follow his actions mindlessly, docile under his touch.
"do you think i won't be good enough?" you ask, hating the way your voice comes out wounded and achy, hating how weak he made you.
he pauses, tongue poking into the side of his cheek, and you think you can see a flash of something deep in his eyes.
"y/n…i can't be your first time."
"but i want –"
"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." despite his words, his voice is cold, and clear. "i don't do that." he dusts off his jacket, shrugging it back on as he takes another drink from the bottle, eyes closed, unwilling to look at you for another second. "go home, y/n. i'll see you at the next show."
you don't move. you kneel there, next to him, eyes desperately searching for his.
"go home, y/n," he repeats, harshly.
"i want to stay here," you bite back, stubbornly, hurt making your voice brittle.
"then you'll have to watch me fuck someone else." lazily, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone, and you can see him scroll through his messages, faces and names blurring as you barely decipher him type out another message. his fingers moving across the keyboard, as the anonymous responder sends a series of heart emojis, eagerness palpable through the screen. he locks his phone, the click sound startling you out of your daze, and he puts his phone down on his lap, the action somehow mocking.
"so?" he's still not looking at you, staring straight ahead into the night. "do you want to watch?"
and as you make your way down the stairs, shame burning at your neck and tears burning hot down your cheeks, you can swear you feel his eyes follow you all the way down.
—
the feeling of embarrassment curdles in your stomach, and leaves a sour taste in your mouth every time you look in the mirror. it's what leads you to skip the next show, making an excuse to jaemin about 'having other plans'. and then the other, and then the other. and then it's been a week, and your friend has finally managed to drag you to one of their after-parties, pushing you through the door with a little too much enthusiasm. he knows something is bothering you, and he wants nothing more than to help take your mind off of it — but he has no idea that the something is currently leaning against the archway leading off into the living room, nursing a bottle of beer in his hands, and brushing his hands around some girl's waist in a way that made you feel sick.
jaemin introduces you to mark, out on the balcony. mark is sweet, and friendly, a regular boy-next-door who happens to have face gems twinkling next to his eyes and leather pants tight around his thighs. he asks you about college, and work. he talks about the songs he's writing on his guitar. he catches your drink when you almost drop it over the railing, an easy smile on his face when his fingers brush yours passing it back to you, and a shy grin when he reaches out to lace his fingers with yours properly.
"i'm really busy, but i'd love to talk to you more," he says, sincerely, as he takes your phone from your hands to key in his number. he texts himself so his contact is at the top of your messages, making you promise to text him when you get back. he looks at you meaningfully, squeezing your hand before dropping it to go back to his party.
there's a moment, where you think to follow.
but then all of it – every touch, every glance, every speck of light you counted reflected in marks' wide eyes, — all of it is wiped clean the moment you hear a familiar low voice.
"trying to get with my friends now, princess?"
when the light illuminates his silhouette, hurt registers before anything else.
hickeys bloom across the side of haechan's neck, trailing down to his chest. only a simple mesh top lies underneath his leather jacket, and you can see the shadows of a few more bruises on his torso when his arm shifts, tugging the jacket open just slightly. his hair is a mess, tugged this way and that by desperate hands, and you think there may be a smear of bright pink lipstick at the corner of his lips. you can smell the reek of flowery perfume, cloyingly sweet, all over his clothes, as he leans back against the railing, eyes turned towards the party happening behind the sliding glass doors.
"i thought you said i was your favorite band member," he murmurs, a mock expression of sadness on his face. "mark's nothing like me."
"why do you care?" you will yourself to sound more confident, letting the hurt dissolve into defiance.
"i don't." the pout has melted off his face, a burning intensity now in the way he stares at you, making you shift uncomfortably. a moment passes, where he studies your face, eyes flicking across your features almost methodically. "so am i?"
"what?"
"am i still your favorite?" his voice is bitter, as if he knows the answer before asking and he doesn't like it.
"are you seriously asking me that?"
"princess –"
he's interrupted by a chime from your phone. the both of you glance down at it at the same time, the text and the sender unmistakeable on your otherwise empty lockscreen.
mark <3 : thanks for talking to me today :) let me know when you get home safe!
there's a pause.
"mark has a girlfriend," haechan blurts out, his voice coarse.
"what?" you look up at him, trying to figure out if this was a joke, but his face is impassive.
"he cheats on her all the time with girls from his parties. it's his thing." haechan's still looking at your screen even though your phone has turned off, resolutely not meeting your eyes.
it takes you a moment to gather yourself, every one of mark‘s actions and words suddenly flashing before you like a flipbook, sweet memories crumpling into dust. "are you lying?" you ask, shakily.
"why would i?" he finishes his beer, veins shifting on the back of his hand as he crushes the empty can, the crunch of metal dissonant against the warm summer night. his next words are just as rough. "whether or not you get with mark means nothing to me. i don't care. i don't even know you."
his words ring true, as he pushes off from the railing, leaving you alone on the balcony without another word. the abrupt end to the conversation has you turning, eyes following him as he steps back into the party, looking away a little too late as you see him gesture someone over with a flick of his fingers, her long hair covering both their faces when their lips meet.
jaemin finds you crying on the balcony, but he can't figure out the reason. you delete mark's contact off your phone the moment you get home, and jaemin promises you he's never taking you to any other show or party with the band ever again.
—
"there should be an empty room somewhere." the man lets go of your hand, at the foot of the stairs. "can you wait for me inside one? i'll find you in a minute."
it's only when you're halfway upstairs, when you realise that you're really about to give yourself to a stranger for your first time.
he has a bright smile, sweet dimples showing each time his lips turn upwards, each time he calls you baby. he's not much older than you, but there's an easy authority in the way he takes your cup from your hands and tells you to stop drinking, getting you glasses of water instead. his body dwarfs yours in size, and when you put your hand on his thigh, you see something shift in his expression that tells you he may not be as gentle as he seems.
and when you tell him he'll be your first time, his throat bobs as he swallows, eyes dragging up and down your body with a newfound hunger.
you've never really cared about who you lost your virginity to, not considering it a big occassion or anything to make a fuss over. your mind flits back to two weeks ago, when some boy had cared way more about it than you did.
"you need to be with someone who will take care of you."
anger flares in your chest at the thought of it, as you climb up the stairs two steps at a time, and it's just when you're just reaching the first landing, when you suddenly coming to a crashing halt because —
the sound of microphone feedback makes you put your hands over your ears, instinctively, the shrill sound piercing the air.
a loud bass suddenly starts up, vibrating under your feet. did they hire a live band? the song that booms from downstairs is familiar, and with a jolt, you realise that you know it a little too well.
that honey-sweet voice, the bitter bite to his words soothed over by the sweetest of tones – drifts up from the speaker, a haunting melody that echoes up the empty staircase, punctuated by a screaming crowd.
as if to further prove it was him, he lets out a laugh at the end of his line, the tone of it dark and sarcastic, the crowd going wild at the sound of it.
was it a studio recording? it must be, because there was no way this band was downstairs, performing live at this random birthday party, there was no chance…
… except now mark is speaking into the microphone, greeting the audience, asking for the birthday girl. unease stirs in your stomach as you trace your steps back down, a dread that fills you up as the makeshift stage comes back into view, where the DJ had been just a moment ago.
to where haechan stood, guitar on its stand, eyes already trained on yours, an expression of white hot anger on his face.
—
"him? really?"
you can still feel his touch on your arm, from how he dragged you into the bedroom.
you're frozen on the steps.
haechan signals to mark, ignoring the questioning looks from the members and protests from the boy as he steps off the platform, making a beeline for the stairs. his brows are furrowed, his teeth gritted as he glares at you.
"you wanna go upstairs that bad?" he murmurs. "lead the fucking way, princess."
he starts towards you, and you take a step back, body colliding with the door. the sound seems to ground him, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down, finally turning away to sit on the bed, the space allowing you to relax just slightly.
"i thought," he starts, patiently, swallowing hard. "i thought i told you to find someone to take care of you, for your first time."
the reminder of his words feels like a stab in your chest. "i thought you didn't care," you shoot back.
he ignores you. "did you come here with your friends? where's jaemin?"
what the fuck was wrong with him? "who are you to tell me what to do?"
his lips part, but no words come out. sighing, he rubs his face with his hands, still trying to calm down. "y/n," he starts again, voice pained. "i don't want to see you get hurt."
"how do you know he would've hurt me?"
his eyes meet yours. "did you tell him?" he asks, quietly.
"tell him i was a virgin? yes." anger seeps into your tone, as you glare at him. "he reacted very differently from you."
"y/n that's not a good thing!" he stands up, his voice raised. "are you that desperate to get fucked?"
you step back in alarm, tears forming in your eyes. fear, of the situation you almost put yourself in, of the boy in front of you, makes your throat close up, and you can't help the way your body tenses. the cruelness of his words settles in a little too late, an acidic burn in your chest.
haechan feels the tips of his fingers go numb as you start to cry, guilt flooding his mind in a way he rarely felt. his face crumples, and he does't know what to do when you curl in on yourself, every sound you make feeling like a punch to his ribs.
"i'm sorry," he whispers, reaching for you tentatively. when you don't pull away, his arms circle around you, and he makes sure to leave enough space for you to breathe or break free if you wanted to. "i'm sorry," he repeats again, as you sink into his chest, needing his warmth as much as you hated his presence.
"take it back," you mumble. "take it back right now."
"i take it back," he says, immediately. "i didn't mean any of it. i'm sorry."
"you don't get to reject me," you start, voice shaky, "and control who i choose to be with."
he sucks in a breath, gripping onto you a little tighter. "y/n –"
"it's…it's fucked up," you hiccup, fisting at the fabric of his shirt, crumpling it in your fists in frustration.
"i know," he breathes. "i know."
his hand comes up to stroke your hair, and you hate how it really does manage to comfort you, your breaths steadying as he pats your back clumsily. when you think you've calmed down enough, you place your hands on his chest, and he backs away instinctively, looking down at his feet. never meeting your eyes.
"i'm tired, haechan," you whisper. "i don't want to play whatever game you're playing." he doesn't respond, so you continue. "you don't want to fuck me, but you don't want anyone else to."
"i do." his response is so quiet, you barely catch it.
"you want other people to fuck me?"
"no, i don't." he lifts his head, his expression conflicted. "i…i want to be your first time."
"what?"
when he doesn't respond, you sigh, agitated. "haechan, i already told you i don't want to play your games anymore –"
"not a game," he cuts you off, softly. "i'll take care of you." the gentleness of his voice makes you feel small. it's almost overwhelming, the way he looks into your eyes, without his usual apathy and bitterness.
"i thought you said you don't do that?" it takes you all your willpower to not give in.
"i don't," he breathes. "but with you i will." he's starting to think he has no choice – that there's no one else in the world who's going to take care of you the way he knows you need. he doesn't know when he decided to give in, in between watching you place your hand on that man's thigh, and you standing in front of him now. all he knows is that he either had to do this, or make you disappear from his life entirely.
the words hang in the air. even now, feeling so torn and hurt and tired, your body can't help how much you want him, hyper-attuned to the little details in his appearance: the messy black nail polish scrawled on his nails, smoky eye make-up that makes his gaze all the more intense and devouring. there's a heady smell hanging onto his skin and clothes, rich and indulgent vanilla and musk, filling up your senses with a giddy desire. long legs in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, his thighs stretching out the fabric in a way that almost looked like it hurt.
"okay," you mumble. his lips part, but you answer him before he has a chance to ask. "please take care of me." your voice is small, yet each word seems to catch fire, incinerating the air between you.
his tongue darts out, wetting his lip. "yeah?"
you nod. finally giving in to the pull of your body, you take a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes.
"i'm sorry…about all of it." he murmurs. "thank you for trusting me, still."
you can't think of anything to say, so you nod again. it feels like your heart is in your throat.
he swallows. "do you…you shouldn't…" his eyes dart around the room. "we shouldn't do it here. in…in some strangers bedroom." gently, he touches your arm, looking at you hesitantly. "would you feel comfortable if we did it in your apartment? or i could bring you to my shared apartment with the band…they wouldn't be back yet. but we might have to be quick…"
your head feels like it's spinning.
at your lack of response, he rambles on, eyes focused on yours, trying to discern your thoughts. "w-what do you think? or…if you really want to get comfortable i don't mind booking a hotel, it's a little last minute but-" he bites his lip. "do you want to meet somewhere else or i could take you in my car? i haven't drank much, i swear, but if you don't trust me-"
"stop," you blurt out.
he freezes, the hand grazing your arm dropping to his side, fingers playing with the rips in his jeans.
"i'm sorry," he says, softly.
"no, i mean…stop asking me questions." you exhale. "i trust you," you repeat, softly. every word of it was true — despite everything, you were still the same person sitting on his lap up on the rooftop. "just…take care of me, however you want."
he swallows. "you sound…" exhaling, he shakes his head to clear it. "okay. is your apartment empty?"
"yes," you whisper. "jaemin's away for tonight."
"i'll drive," he murmurs. and now he takes a step closer to you, until he's all you can see, the room melting away. "but before that…can i kiss you first, princess?" you nod, transfixed by him, as he leans in.
haechan kisses soft.
his lips are plush, and soft, taking your bottom lip between his own sweetly. he tilts his head slowly as if he's afraid he'll overwhelm you by moving too fast, his lips parting as he invites you to do the same, his hands going to the back of your head to guide you. a soft sigh escapes the back of his throat when your lips part and he can taste you, and you can taste him — vanilla like how he smells, with the slight bite of alcohol. your hand comes up to touch his round cheeks, surprisingly soft too, and he smiles into this kiss.
he's the one to break apart from you, with a patience that feels rehearsed. he's taking care of you, as he leans in so your noses brush, your breaths mingling.
"haechan…" he hums, encouragingly. "i…you know this isn't…my first kiss, right?"
a pause. "i know," he murmurs.
"so… so you don't have to be gentle." you squirm slightly as his touch grows heavier, eyes darkening at the implications behind your words.
he backs away from you, hands pulling you with him as he sits down on the bed. his eyes flick down to his lap as he lowers his gaze, before dragging them painstakingly up to yours again.
"sit, princess."
this time, when he feels you tremble against him, your knees caging in his hips as you straddle him, all he does is lean in and kiss you — just as sweet as he did the first time.
"i'm gentle with you because i want to be," another kiss, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip. "not because i have to." his fingers guide your chin upwards, baring your neck to him as he leans in and leaves a kiss on a spot under your jaw. and then a longer, more lingering kiss. and now he's making his way down your neck, each press of his lips on your skin longer and rougher than the last, and now you're sure he's sucking marks onto your neck, especially when you feel a slight sting of teeth.
you're shifting against him restlessly, body hardly your own as you fall under his touch. you don't know how long you spend there, in his lap, as he works on your neck, taking breaks to kiss you on the lips, his sighs echoing into the cavern of your mouth as it falls open with need. it's when he sucks lightly on your tongue, almost boyish in the way he backs away with a small smile, when a soft sound escapes your lips.
"yeah?" he murmurs, leaning in again, letting the tip of his tongue brush against yours gently. "you like that?"
you nod.
"you sound so pretty," he breathes, as he slots his lips with yours again, humming against yours as you let out another small whimper.
"haechan-" you mumble, and he draws away, looking at you expectantly. "i think i'm ready."
"really?" his hands on your waist give you a light squeeze. "you want me to take you home now?"
you're still giddy from the heat radiating off his skin, your lips craving his contact again now he's stopped kissing you. you nod, and he smiles, gently guiding you off his lap as he unlocks the door.
he's gentle the whole way down – as he leads you away from the main staircase so you wouldn't be seen, the crowd still distracted by the band. he cradles you carefully against his side all the way out of the back gates and into his car, and when your breath catches as he leans over to buckle your seatbelt for you, he's gentle even as he presses into you for a spur of the moment kiss, tongue licking into your mouth with more fervor.
it's not a song that plays in the car as he drives and you try to remember the way to your apartment, but rather it's a low and sultry beat — bluesy harmonies stretched out over pulses. part of you wonders if he played it on purpose, because imagining his voice set against it already had you melting against the leather seats.
it would all be rather sweet – how gentle he's being, the soft way he smiles at you in the dim lights of your lift lobby, the way he holds your hand and lets you lean against him as you head higher and higher, the space around you feeling like a vacuum of trapped adrenaline and lust.
but there was also no denying the fact that he jolted at the slightest sound, his grip on you tight and slack all at once, the tenderness in his eyes here one second and gone the next. a hurt you could almost taste on your tongue, that you were holding onto something so fragile, and that to him it seemed the worst thing that could happen would be if he were found with you.
—
but all of it changes, when you're alone in your room. the weight of his attention, that you'd felt even as one person amidst a screaming crowd, seems to intensify tenfold as he lets his jacket slide to the floor, eyes on you.
he reads the apprehension in your body, the way you hover near your bed, waiting for him to guide you.
"let me know if it's too much, okay?" he murmurs, as he pulls you in for a hug first, feeling you warm against him as you cling on to his embrace. "you can tell me to stop whenever, and i will." his hands rub circles up your waist, teasing on the silver of skin between your top and your skirt.
you nod, but he shakes his head – a thumb brushing across your cheek.
"use your words," he murmurs. "so i know you mean it."
"okay," you breathe, now guiding him to the bed yourself, curiosity getting the better of you. you had almost forgotten, in the midst of everything, why exactly you went to the party, and the familiar need sparks back to life in you.
haechan sits down against the headboard, pulling you into his lap, the movement feeling even more natural now. he can see that you're nervous and eager at the same time, hands fumbling with the soft material of his shirt, unsure what to do as you shift around on top of him.
"can i kiss you?" in the soft lamp light of the room, the sharp-cut edges of his face seem to blur, large doe-eyes looking up at you kindly. it makes you want to lean in, so you do — slotting your lips with his boldly, kissing him the way you wanted from him. it surprises him, the way you press your lips against him harshly, the gentle graze of your teeth against his plush lip.
he lets out a small laugh, and kisses you back just as fiercely, the atmosphere in the room melting as temperature skyrockets, until it's almost unbearable to be separated from you by layers of fabric.
"may i-" he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, and when your voice chokes out an affirmative, he's quick to yank it over his head, movements rough, exposing beautiful skin, his body warm and solid under your palms as you lean into him.
your cheeks warm, and he notices – a small smile on his face as his hands cup your cheeks, and he gives you a sweet kiss, abruptly different from the others. suddenly, it's almost too tender, the way he looks up at you with endearment in his eyes, kissing you chastely, and you sink into it a little guiltily, enjoying the innocence of it.
when you feel your heart reach its boiling point, your own hands go to the hem of your shirt, and you pull it over your head. you don't mean to slow down your movements, not meaning to tease or entice, but the way his eyes darken looking at your body made you wish you did it on purpose.
"pretty," he praises, head dipping to press a kiss between your collarbones. and another one, lower done, almost reaching your cleavage. the bra you had chosen mindlessly that morning was a thin bralette, and it did little to hide how aroused you were, your nipples poking stiff peaks through the fabric.
but still, he doesn't make any move to remove it, peppering kisses on your bare chest, over the slope of your breasts, almost slobbering at your skin, lips dewy and wet. his arms are firm around you, meeting each one of your movements and steadying you, helping you rock your hips into him as desire surges in your body.
"haechan, –" his name had never sounded so breathless falling from your lips.
"yes, baby?"
the term of endearment makes you feel smaller in his lap, the only thing making you feel better was the way he was just as heated as you, his breaths coming hard and fast. he wanted everything to be perfect, he never wanted to rush you into anything you weren't comfortable with, his hands staying firm on your lower back.
you tug at the bralette covering your chest impatiently, the fabric never feeling more uncomfortable on your skin.
"you want me to take it off?" he asks, head nuzzling into your neck as his fingers wander up your back. you feel it loosen around you, his finger expertly fiddling the clasp open, dragging it down and accidentally brushing against your hard nipples, making you hiss.
"i'll make you feel good," he promises, softly, lowering his head, kissing down the slope of your breasts. he makes eye contact with you, searching your eyes for any form of discomfort.
"be gentle," you murmur, nodding for him to continue. "they feel sensitive."
"of course," he mumbles, before starting to lightly kitten-lick at your nipple, the feeling all at once new and arousing, making you pulse against him in his lap. he circles his tongue around your areola, being as gentle as possible, opting not to flick at your nipples but rather suck one into his mouth, heart-shaped full lips sinful against your chest. the heat between your legs is overwhelming, as he switches to your other side, his hand coming up to knead your breast, warm palms moving over skin and making you giddy.
"please," you whimper, as he laps at you. "please, i need you, please –"
"you have me," he murmurs, one of his hands reaching out for yours blindly, scrabbling against the back of your hand from where it's pressed against his chest, flipping it over and interlocking your fingers. "i'll take care of you. lie down for me?"
he moves you off his lap, guiding you onto your back, propping up pillows you can rest against. the familiar feeling of your bed is only faintly there, your senses filled with the sweet heady smell of haechan, from the perfume and lotion clinging onto his skin, as you watch him remove the numerous rings on his fingers, placing them carefully on your bedside table.
haechan kisses his way down your body, suckling on your skin, leaving longer, lingering bruises on your hips, finally reaching your thighs as he lowers himself down. he guides your hips up with a heavy hand, sliding a cushion carefully under as he situates himself between your legs. you're so sensitive, that the feeling of his long hair against your skin has your thighs sliding together, squeezing around his head accidentally.
"you okay?" he murmurs, as he kisses your thighs again, patiently easing your thighs open.
you suddenly feel shy, knowing he was about to see you so intimately. even when you had agreed to let him take care of you, even as you trusted him completely, you had never imagined seeing him in between your spread legs like this, somewhere you hadn't even explored much yourself. would he be disappointed or disgusted? what if he didn't like what he saw or felt?
"baby…." he rubs a hand carefully on your thigh, tips of his fingers slipping just under the hem of your skirt. "is this okay? do you want to stop?"
"i don't want to stop," you admit, and you find that its true.
haechan looks at you, studying your face. after a moment, he crawls back up your body, brushing the hair out of your eyes before he brushes his lips against yours softly, as if asking for permission. you grant it, lips parting as his warm mouth meets yours, a welcome taste in your mouth that's become familiar. you kiss for a while, his hand finding yours in the mess of sheets and intertwining your fingers, until you feel confident enough to slip your other hand to the zipper of your skirt.
you tug it off your legs, haechan breaking away from the kiss to help you, moving down your body.
"i'll take care of you," he whispers, his hand never letting go of yours. "these are so pretty, baby," he whispers, a finger tracing over the lacy pattern on the front of your panties. you've never been more aware of your own arousal seeping out of you, as he places a kiss low on your hip, and then another just on the waistband of your panties, and suddenly, you want nothing more than for them to come off.
your fingers tug at them impatiently, and he takes hold of your hand, kissing your fingertips lightly. "let me," he murmurs, and you hear something low and raw in his voice, something that maybe wasn't there before. sitting up slightly, he pulls your panties down your legs, assuming his position as quickly as he'd left it once the fabric was out of the way, rearranging your legs so they're spread open for him.
the tension in the room fills your lungs up like smoke. you barely mumble his name, beg him to do something, before you feel a soft touch against your clit, making your hips jolt and you let out a sharp exhale.
"let me hear you," he encourages, gently, as he starts to rub circles into your sensitive nub, dipping down to your entrance and spreading your wetness all over your cunt. your hips keep shifting around, so he pulls his arm around to press down into you, keeping you still for him as he slowly pleasures you.
"t-this feels…" you start, lost in your own head. you've touched yourself before, but the sensitivity seemed to be heightened to an exaggerated amount once it was someone else touching you. he looks up at you, face still wickedly beautiful, the gentlest look in his eyes laced with something like desperation.
"can't believe i got so lucky," he murmurs, suckling a kiss close to your heat, high on the soft skin of your thigh. your legs clamp around his head, and it makes him groan, breath heavy against your cunt. "you're pretty everywhere, baby. can't believe i'm the only one."
the words flood your veins with a dark thrill, the idea of being his, of him taking all your firsts. "hypocrite," you mumble, cutting yourself off with a moan as he applies more pressure to your clit.
"maybe a little," he admits, shyly, as he dips his head back down and flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, his fingers sliding down to your entrance instead.
you cry out at the foreign feeling, the wet muscle of his tongue stroking your clit expertly while his slender finger slips past your entrance. his name, strung along by curses, echoes from your mouth as he teases his finger in and out of your entrance, tongue lying flat and wide as he laps at your clit in a way that made you feel like you were already close.
stiffening his tongue, his flicks your clit with the tip, humming into you just as he curls his finger against your walls in a come-hither motion. he knows when you cum — back arching as you seemed to chase for stimulation above you, your walls sucking tightly around his finger and kneading it eagerly, making him groan as he imagines the feeling of you tight around his cock. he lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, his nose bumping your clit and eliciting another drawn out whimper, tongue teasing your entrance.
when your hands push at his head, he backs away easily, once again making his way up your body to check on you, the warmth of his bare chest against yours making you feel safe.
"good?" he kisses you, tongue moving against yours, inviting you to take a taste. "did you like that, sweetheart?"
you nod, gasping. "haechan…"
"you did perfect for me, baby." his hands run up and down your sides as he kisses down your neck, enjoying the way your body wraps yourself around him, arms pulling his weight down into you.
"i still need you," you murmur. the pleasure from before had only satiated you for a little bit, and the feeling of his hard length poking at your thigh was making your head spin with a whole different level of desire, as you grapple for his belt. "please, i've been good-"
"you're perfect." he comforts you with a kiss.
he guides your hand away from him gently, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants slide onto the bed as you lie back down on your pillows. tugging his underwear down, you swallow as he squeezes his thick length, the pink tip leaking clear liquid. he watches you watch him spread it on his length, pumping himself slowly, drawing out the pleasure as he moans, a sweet tenor sound that rings lewdly in the air. you watch, mesmerized, as he thrusts his hips forward a few times, stroking himself with a slight twist of his wrist before letting go abruptly, letting his cock slap up against his lower stomach.
fishing around in the pocket of his discarded jeans, he takes out a condom wrapper, opening it quickly and rolling it onto his cock. you're sure you're making a mess of the sheets, you can feel your arousal and his saliva on your thighs, can feel another gush of wetness seep out of you as he lowers himself over your body and slides his cock against your folds.
he grinds himself on you, hoping to get you wetter so it may be less painful when he enters you. his fingers find your clit again, this time he rubs it urgently, with just the correct amount of pressure to have you shaking and lifting your hips into him.
"stop me anytime," he reminds you, as he lines himself up to your fluttering entrance. "you have to relax for me, baby." he pitches his voice lower now, and you can't tell if he's comforting you or if he's slowly being pulled under by lust too. he makes soft shushing noises, nipping at your lips with gentle kisses as you whimper, feeling the bulbous tip of his cock slowly stretch you open, his fingers resuming his movements. the head of his cock still feels shallow inside you, when it suddenly brushes against a sensitive spot, and his fingers on your clit glide just right, making you cum, hard. he feels you clamp down tightly around his tip, and he hisses, eyes squeezed shut. his mind wiped clean for just a second as pleasure thrums through his entire body, an aching pain that makes his mouth hang open.
"'m sorry," you whimper, tears prickling to your eyes as you interpret his expression as annoyance. "i'm so sorry, it just felt so good —"
"baby…" he looks at you, his face morphing into panic when he sees the tears in your eyes. "don't apologise, please, you have nothing to be sorry for."
you still look unconvinced, so he reaches for one of your hands, holding it in his and kissing your fingertips. "you are so pretty when you cum," the filthy words sound sacred the way he says them. "and you felt so fucking good around my cock," he murmurs, voice sinking low again.
you begin to relax again, sniffling slightly as you adjust your legs around his waist, feeling him slide a little deeper into you. he coaxes you into taking more of him, kissing you sweetly as he slips in further and further, until finally the both of you are groaning, his body shuddering slightly against yours as he feels your warm gummy walls tight around him.
"so tight," he groans, cursing again under his breath as he circles his hips, drawing a moan from you as your thighs tense. "how are you so tight?," he panted, tone still teasing despite him trying desperately not to buck his hips into you. "has no one ever fucked you before or something?"
you don't have it within you to tease back.
"only you, haechan." the words are reverent, hushed. it strips him of any of his cockiness, his teasing, his boldness — his features softening at the way you look up at him, trying to maintain eye contact even as the ache between your legs drove you insane, not wanting to waste a single moment of this, in case it never happened again.
"haechan…" your nails rake against his back, drawing him out of his daze. "please fuck me."
"fuck," he breathes, as he slowly starts to move in you, obsessed with the way the words sound in your voice. his thick length drags against your walls, heavy inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal seeping into the room. you feel full and stretched out, sated by having him so close to you, it feels like you can feel him deep in your gut the way he's thrusting into you, especially when he hikes your legs higher on his waist, drawing a long moan from you as he manages to stimulate a spot inside you that has you seeing stars.
he changes his pace, now barely pulling himself out of you as he nudges the head of his cock against your sweet spot. licking a long stripe from your neck up to your ear, one hand tangles itself with yours, while the other ghosts over your sensitive nipples.
"i'm cumming," the words come out rushed as you barely hold onto your senses, cumming harshly for the third time, your body thrown into pleasure as your muscles tense. he succumbs to the feeling of your walls kneading his length and squeezing tight around him, eyes going unfocused and hazy as his lips part, a moan drawn out from his lungs without conscious thought. he's aware of the way your muscles tense as he fucks both of you through your highs, relishing in the sting of your fingernails on his back as he slows down his movements. he draws out both your highs by leaning in and sucking on the mark he'd left behind earlier that evening, letting his moan buzz and fizzle on your skin.
you feel dazed and tired, arms never letting go of him, legs unwilling to unwrap from his waist as you cling to him. he rolls you both onto your sides, caressing your body sweetly and stroking your hair, mumbling questions and concerns that you can't register, nodding to everything in a blur. the weight of him feels good, his body warm and solid against your back, and once again that feeling of safety, that feeling of complete trust, washes over you. it makes you feel whole even as he pulls out of you with a wince, discarding the condom in the trash by your bedside.
you cling to him, and he knows you need it — so he doesn't let you go, heavy hands patting your back clumsily, slightly rough and out of rhythm, just like the way your heart beats against your ribcage.
when he feels your arms loosen, relaxing finally after the high of hormones and adrenaline, he slips away quickly to the bathroom, putting on his underwear as he goes. he grabs a towel, turning your tap on to warm water and checking the temperature with his wrist as he washes his hands, his face, cleaning himself up. running the towel under the water and squeezing it dry in the sink. his movements methodical, as he slips out of your room and into the kitchen, looking around for a glass of water.
he immediately races back the moment he hears a sound from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him just as you sit up, your expression clearing once you see him again. pulling his shirt from where it's discarded on the floor, he slides into bed, kissing you on the cheek.
he cleans you up with soft strokes, the warm towel soothing on your skin even though he hadn't really been rough. he makes you drink from the glass of water, watching you drain it carefully. finally, slipping his large shirt over your frame, swallowing at the way it envelopes your body, a feeling stirring in his gut that he ignores.
"y/n? are you with me?" when you don't respond, wide eyes looking up at him, he touches his fingers to your cheek. "baby?"
each brush of his skin against yours felt like trails of fire, lingering warmth even after he pulls away. every look he gave you through his lashes, the slight pout to his lips when he broke away from a kiss, made you feel like you were caught in a riptide, your pulse out of your control. you wanted to crawl into him and make a home in his chest. you never wanted him to look at you again with his shuttered eyes, to have to dream yourself into the skin of someone else as he touched them.
you had to tell him. "haechan…haechan i…" you reach for him, and he pulls you into his embrace, shushing you softly. you try to speak again, lips parting, but he envelopes your lips in a gentle kiss, nipping at your mouth each time you part, swallowing all your sounds with the sweep of his tongue.
"princess…" his voice sounds raw, and coarse. "don't say anything you don't mean."
"but-"
"you don't know me." was it regret in his voice, or your wishful thinking? "you don't know me at all. what you're feeling right now…" he touches a hand to your chest, brushing a kiss on your cheek. "it's because of the sex, alright?"
you shake your head.
your next words come out slurred, your eyelids starting to droop as sleep begins to tug at your mind, threatening to pull you under. "but…why can't i know you?"
he takes a deep breath. "i don't want you to."
"but i don't want this to end."
he holds you tighter against his chest at your words.
"this?" he questions, quietly. he keeps his voice light, but it still pierces your heart like a shard of glass. "there isn't a 'this' princess. this isn't happening again."
"why?"
"i don't want you to get attached." he cradles you even more carefully against him, freckling mellow kisses onto your forehead, the contrast between his words and his actions ringing dissonant in your ears. "besides… why would i spend the night with the same girl twice, hm?"
sleep softens the hurt from the words he's saying. his voice fades slightly, his touch against your skin roaring ever louder in your ears. "you know i won't be here when you wake up, right?" his fingers brush against your forehead lightly, pushing hair away from your eyes.
you knew.
but you still cried in the morning all the same — the golden-orange sunrise beautiful and terribly cruel, just like the boy you were perhaps falling in love with.
—
you spend the weekend alone.
you spend the weekend wondering if haechan thought of you at all, after he left. thinking if what he said was real, and it was just adrenaline and lust, then why did your heart ache at the thought of him? at his face on posters outside the small concert venue, inviting you to a show next week? why did you always turn at the slightest hint of his voice?
you try to forget him. you try to tell yourself he wasn't worth it. but deep down all of it, a part of you still hopes, which is perhaps why you were letting jaemin drag you past the poster of haechan, into the alleyway that led backstage.
"are you sure you need me there?" you pull at jaemin's sleeve, your other hand holding onto his spare camera carefully as he guides you into the venue.
"i do," he insists, pushing through a set of doors leading to the stage. "mark wants extra photos for their social media page and i can't be doing all of that at once."
you can hear the boys talking just around one of the curtains, sprawled out onstage, a cacophany of sounds as they absentmindedly plucked at their instruments. you were going to see haechan again. you can't tell if it makes you want to run towards them, or go back home. that familiar sense of hope, the kind you experienced in the crowd that first night, on the balcony, in the bedroom and in the moonlight, fills you up slowly, sweet and light. maybe, if he just saw you again…
"y/n-" jaemin puts a hand on your arm, stopping you gently before you could rush onto stage.
"yes?" you prompt.
"i know i dragged you here, but if you're feeling uncomfortable," he starts, and you start to slip away, but he only tightens his grip. "let me finish — if you're feeling uncomfortable, or if any of them are hurting you, let me know okay?"
you hadn't told him about haechan, something close to shame seeming to rise up and choke you whenever you tried to bring it up. all jaemin knew was that the last two times you had come into contact with the band it had upset you badly, and as your best friend and roommate he never wanted to see you crying on the balcony again.
"what would you do? beat them up?"
"i would leave." his serious tone doesn't change, unaffected by your attempt to lighten the mood.
"but the money –"
"no job is more important than you being okay," he insists. "i don't want to work for them if they hurt you. okay?"
"okay."
even though he looks unconvinced, his grip on your arm loosens and he takes your hand instead, pulling back the curtain with his other.
you can hear him say something to mark about today's shoot, hear him greet the rest of the members. you guess that mark is rising to greet him, hear something like jisung and jeno standing too, but everything fades to white noise when the sight you're looking at clicks in your mind, the one member of the band who's voice you hadn't heard, who hadn't bothered to turn around at jaemin's arrival.
or rather, the one boy who was too pre-occupied to — considering he had his tongue in a pretty girl's mouth.
haechan was facing away from you, away from the rest of his bandmates, you could really only see his broad back under his denim jacket, but the careful tilt of his head as he kissed her was all too familiar, as was the movement of his arms around her waist. and when she shifted in his lap, his hands pulling her hips down unto his, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a sharp pain searing at your chest in emotions you couldn't pinpoint.
"fuck, sorry about that –" mark's voice is flustered, and now a tall boy, the bassist, jisung, is stepping in front of you, blocking your view of him.
"sorry," he echoes, and you're momentarily caught off guard by how deep his voice is - husky and quiet. you blink up at him, fog slowly clearing in your mind, and he smiles shyly. "he doesn't usually do that."
"who?"
"um, haechan…" he looks back briefly, and you see haechan helping the girl to her feet, her body crumpled into his like she couldn't bear to be separated from his touch. you feel a wave of second-hand shame again – was that what you had looked like?
and then jisung turns back to you, towering over you again and blocking everything from view. "he usually only does this after the show, but today…"
"it's fine," you say, faintly.
jisung looks at you, carefully. "you're jaemin's friend y/n, right?"
you nod, half your mind still on what could be going on right now. behind jisung, you see mark pull haechan, now alone, towards a corner of the stage, whispering angrily at him. haechan is slouched lazily, picking at his nails with all the look of someone who couldn't care less about what was going on.
"i saw you at our last show," jisung continues. "i was going to…i was going…" he breaks off, a little embarrassed, fumbling with his words. "are you sure you're okay?"
"i'm fine, jisung." you repeat, your voice a little more firm, as you finally look back at him.
he blinks. "you know me?"
jisung still looked worried, but there was something sweet about the way he shrunk a little under your attention, eyes darting all over your face and around his surroundings, blush tinging his cheeks.
this you were comfortable with – something completely different from the way haechan's eyes always tried to drink you in, or the way your vision would go blurry at the edges when he would stand in front of you. talking with jisung was easy, the confidence that haechan drained from you seeping back and settling in.
he had meant it, when he said you shouldn't get attached. you just had to learn it before it brought you more hurt you couldn't justify.
"jisung," you emphasise. "of course i know you. you play bass, right?"
"y-yeah," he stammers, pointing unecessarily at his dark blue bass guitar on its stand. "i don't know, i guess i always thought people didn't really know me even if they knew the band." he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, black hair falling over his eyes. "people usually choose to stand where haechan or mark are."
"you usually stand on the left?"
he nods, bashfully, and a smile tugs at your lips.
"i'll make sure to stand there, later during the show."
"wow, okay." he pauses for a moment, steeling himself. "how about after?"
"what do you mean?"
"would you want to meet…after the show?" he hesitates, voice soft.
your brow furrows slightly. "do you mean the party?"
"we don't have to go," he blurts out. "i don't mean…i don't mean like what haechan usually does after the show."
his name is an unwelcome sting, but the way jisung sneaks glances up at you from where he looks down at his feet makes it a little easier to forget. "then what do you want to do?"
"w-we can get something to eat." he says it like he just suggested robbing a bank.
oh. "like a date?"
mortified, his lips part, and you can tell that he's frantically trying to read your tone, trying to figure out if the idea of it made you uncomfortable, whether you were suggesting because you wanted it. it's so endearing, watching him start his sentences and stop them, the hem of his shirt crumpled and worn out by his nervous fingers.
eventually, he takes a deep breath, and settles for a question. "d-do you mind if it's a date?"
did you?
was there any hope in waiting for haechan, when he had made it so clear that you would never have him again?
jisung is still looking at you like you have all the power in the world to hurt him.
"i don't mind," you say, softly, feeling a hum of satisfaction in your chest at the way it makes his lips part in blissful surprise. a beat. "do you want it to be…?"
"yes," he blurts out. "please," he adds, shyly.
the awkward silence between the two of you feels good, the lightness of it familiar and giddy, like a schoolgirl crush. jisung can't stop smiling, biting his lips slightly as he turns to face mark, who's crossed to the front of the stage to speak to them.
" — jisung, jaemin will start with your photos first. we'll just be shooting the rehearsal process today, so there's no need to-" he breaks off, brow furrowing. "jisung why are you so red?"
"i-it's w-warm in here."
"well you should cool off before jaemin takes your photos." jisung nods, flustered, and he walks offstage with jaemin to prepare. jeno too, strolls away with a wave to mark, leaving him alone at the front of the stage.
with you.
mark glances over at you, his eyes darting over your face, trying to read your expression. you can almost hear haechan's voice from that night, the ghost of the hurt still palpable in your bones. but the moment you take a step back, thinking that you should find jaemin and jisung, mark seems to have made up his mind — his face set, he starts to walk over to you, and you find your own footsteps falter.
"um, y/n, can i speak to you for a second?"
you take a deep breath. "is this about the photos for later?"
"no…not exactly." he clears his throat. there's a pause, as he seems to pick his words. "y/n, did i do something wrong?"
you blink at him. "what do you mean?"
"i mean, i know it was a while ago, but i thought we were getting along fine at the party," it feels like he's rehearsed this to some capacity, or perhaps it was just the confidence of being a lead singer. "but then since then every time i saw you…i feel like you've been avoiding me."
"i haven't been avoiding you." you take a deep breath. "mark, do you have a girlfriend?"
his eyes widen. "are you…are you asking me out?"
"what?" you balk. "no!"
"oh." his face falls. "i mean…i just thought…"
"that's just too bad, markie."
it’s practically deja vu.
haechan stands behind you, his body radiating warmth, and you inhale sharply. surprisingly, he doesn't smell saccharine, the way he always does with the girls he chooses — his skin smells like baby powder and fresh linen. your body is doing that thing again – where you hone in on his presence and the whole world dissolves, and you're hyper attuned to the way his arm hovers near yours, his breath on the back of your neck. anything you were about to say to mark completely lost in your brain.
exasperated, mark runs his hand through his hair. "haechan…don't be difficult."
"i'm not." you feel almost numb when his hand touches your elbow, sliding down to hold your hand tight in his grip. "y/n and i have to talk about something."
"can't it wait?"
"it's urgent," haechan says, sarcastically, giving you a sharp tug towards him. your feet stumble as haechan starts to walk off, and you turn one last time to see mark standing there, looking a little forlorn, suddenly small under the bright lights of the stage.
"sorry, –" you mumble out. mark frowns, starting towards you.
but now haechan really pulls you along, yanking curtains aside and accessing a short flight of stairs. you can feel the intensity of his emotions radiating off him in waves, making it a little hard to breathe as you try to keep up, afraid of what he'll say if your hand slips from his grasp.
he guides you along a corridor and through a doorway, stepping into the warm light of a dressing room, the door slamming shut behind you as haechan pulls you in.
you're almost afraid to look at him, but you do anyway.
he's slightly breathless from the walk down, stooping slightly to lock the door with careful hands. when he straightens and steps towards you, the lights hitting his features, you can see that he's covered up the hickeys on his neck with makeup. something mark made him do, no doubt.
"haechan -"
"park jisung? really?" he sneers, backing you into the dressing table.
"what?"
"don't lie to me," he demands. "i saw you."
"really?" you fold your arms across your chest as he moves in closer, planting both hands on the table on either side of your hips, caging you in. "you looked busy. where did she go, hm? did mark send her away, or did you?"
haechan rolls his eyes. "that's none of your business."
"jisung said you don't usually bring girls to the rehearsal," you continue, watching the way his tongue pokes into his cheek in annoyance. "what happened?"
"you two talked about me?" he demands. "what else did you do? make plans to fuck after the show?"
"i'm not a virgin anymore," you remind him, your voice laced with a warning. "i thought you only cared about my first time."
haechan groans. seeing you talk to jisung out of the corner of his eye, seeing your hands brush and his friend's head duck shyly to the side, gave him a weight on his chest which grew heavier each time he took a breath, each time he had to hear one of jisung's small laughs.
"if you want to have mediocre sex then i couldn't care less," he snaps. "just know that you're going to have to fuck a lot of people before you forget me."
you can see that you're losing him, the familiar closed-off look coming back to his face, anger dissapating into indifference.
"what is there to forget?" you ask, hurt and anger making your voice shake.
haechan is staring at you, his face now so close to yours if you leaned in just slightly your lips would brush.
"you don't mean that," he says, quietly.
and just like that, all the fight drains out of you.
"haechan, jisung just wants to take me out on a date." his features tense, and he bites his lower lip harshly. "would you ever ask me out on a date, haechan?"
he doesn't respond.
"would you?"
"i told you," he breathes. "i don't do that."
"you told me you didn't want to be my first time, and you took it back," you remind him, quietly.
"that's different." you can't help the disappointment that wells up inside you, and you know he can see it from the way his face falls too.
"don't look at me like that, princess." he sinks into your touch easily, warmth once again circling your body.
you don't know if you wished haechan was a liar, or if you wished he wasn't. if he was telling the truth about everything, it would be easier to let go of him, to walk away from someone who could only cause you pain, from someone who played with you over and over again.
but maybe if he was lying it would all make sense – the way he said he didn't want you and yet kept showing up, the jealousy and the conflict in his voice, all of it would have some sort of plausible reason, one that would mean that maybe he cared for you.
"i don't want to do this anymore," you mumble, hands placed on his chest. you only push at him lightly, but he backs off all the way to the opposite wall, your words feeling like salt in his wounds. "i can't do this with you, haechan."
"y/n-"
"you have a show soon," you mumble, turning around to look in the mirror. you comb your hair with your fingers, trying to calm yourself down. behind you, haechan's eyes flash with frustration, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows drawn together as he looks up at your reflection.
"i'm trying to talk to you."
"are you?" it's a genuine question, and it makes him falter, a response half-formed on his lips. when it's clear he won't finish his thought, you close your eyes.
"you need to go," you say again, quietly.
"will you be there?"
you don’t respond, and he repeats himself, urgently.
"will you be there? at the show?"
"i will," you say, hesitantly.
"i'll see you then." his voice is controlled, and steady. somehow it feels like the calm before the storm.
but before you can turn around to try to talk to him, persuade him to calm down, ask him what's wrong, he's already left the room, the sound of his heeled boots echoing down the hall.
—
"is everything okay?"
"why are they taking so long?"
"are they late?"
unease settles in the pit of your stomach as you stand in the crowd, the voices all around you whispering anxiously. it had been 15 minutes since the show was scheduled to start — but the lights on the stage were dim, and the pre-show playlist had just restarted for the second time. you had situated yourself on the left side of the stage, where jisung usually stood, and you bounced on your toes, hoping that everything was alright backstage so jisung could come out and see that you had kept your promise.
and then there's a low rumble, as lights finally flood the venue, the crowd sighing with relief as jeno and mark appear – jeno waving at the crowd, his drumsticks in one hand, while mark smiles reassuringly, walking over to the mic and checking that it's at the correct height. he apologizes lightly for the delay, looking to the side of the stage nervously as he murmurs a quick introduction of the band into the mic.
haechan strides onto stage, electric guitar slung around his neck, as the crowd's screams reach an all-time high. he stops abruptly at the left side of the stage, right in front of where you stood, nodding at the crowd and cocking his head from side to side, as if preparing for a fight. he keeps his face level as his eyes find yours, that same burning intensity you felt in the dressing room unwavering as he held your gaze.
and then jisung appears, footsteps faltering where haechan stood, the grip on his bass going slack.
"haechan." jisung's voice is soft, you can barely hear it from where you stand so close to the stage. you can tell that the crowd behind has no clue what's going on, but some fans are looking at each other confusedly, pointing at the two boys, and the position on mark's left where haechan usually stood, now empty.
"yes?" haechan's not looking at jisung, fingers running phantom chords up and down the fret board.
"w-why are you standing here?" jisung whispered, embarrassment evident in his tone. "aren't you supposed to be on mark's left?"
haechan's eyes briefly flick up to yours. "not today."
distressed, jisung makes a sound. "haechan." guilt fills up your lungs like smoke, making it difficult to breathe, a twist in your chest as jisung looks over at you, lost.
"run along, jisung," haechan murmurs, softly. "don't want to keep the fans waiting."
mark, not wanting to draw attention to them, keeps smiling at the crowd, starting to ask them a few questions. jisung only tries a few more times, haechan resolutely ignoring him, before finally accepting defeat, casting his eyes over to you — his gaze wounded and confused, as he walks off with his bass. he assumes haechan's position, and the crowd cheers encouragingly. the boy manages a smile.
when mark starts to introduce the first song, haechan finally looks up, a faint smile playing on his lips as his eyes lock with yours again. just like the day you met.
and just like the day you met, you felt yourself fall under his spell, yet again.
—
"haechan, i think we —" you gasp out, in between the kisses that haechan is pressing to your lips.
he gives a non-committal hum, his legs framing your body as he holds you close to his chest. his lips are warm and soft, tasting slightly of cherries, as he opens you up little by little, chaste kisses turning into open-mouthed ones, his tongue darting out and gently licking into your mouth in a way that was intoxicating.
you grip onto his arm harshly, trying to ground yourself, and he inhales sharply, breaking away.
"haechan –" you pant. "we should-"
but then he's kissing you again, smothering your words with his lips and his tongue. his hands rub at your lower back, guiding your movements as you shift against him, his hips grinding upwards almost lazily.
"jisung, –" you start, but now he gives a groan, rumbling through his chest almost like a roar. slumped back against the car door, he glares at you, touching the corner of his wet mouth with his thumb.
"you did not just fucking say my bandmates name while you're on me."
"we should apologize to jisung," your words come out in a rush.
"for?" he catches the look on your face, and rolls his eyes. "fine," he mumbles. "i'll talk to him." leaning up towards you, he starts to pepper kisses down your jaw, sucking a little harder on the mark he had left before. "kiss me?" he mumbles, and you have to stop yourself from caving in.
"haechan," you press on, as haechan licks boldly at your collarbone. "haechan –"
"keep saying my name," he murmurs, hands roaming up your shirt, teasing over the clasp of your bra.
"mark, —"
"fuck." breaking away agian, haechan tips his head back, lips stretched out and puffy as he tongued his cheek. "you want me jealous princess? is that it? because it's fucking working –"
"haechan, we keep hurting people." you place both hands on his chest, trying to calm him down.
"what?"
"today we hurt mark too. although, i don't really know why–" you break off, thinking about how he looked as he tried to follow after you and haechan. how jisung's cheeks burned red as he walked across the stage. "haechan, they're your friends."
"you wanna hurt jeno too?" he raises his eyebrows, his own hands now mindlessly scraping against yours. "you can lead him on, and then we can fuck while he watches. although he'll probably like that –"
again, he takes in the way you frown. "fine. sorry. jeez."
"i don't want to hurt people because of us," you say, softly.
"well," he exhales. "they're only hurt because they can't have you, princess." he tucks your hair behind your ear from where its come loose. "there's nothing we can do, hm?"
you shake your head. "you're not being fair," you whisper.
"how so?" his hands slide down. there's something possessive in the drag of his palms, the way he squeezes your waist.
"you don't call me yours…but you also don't let them near me." your voice is small, but it rings loud in the silence of the car all the same. the streets outside were empty and deserted, and you think you can hear your heart beating in the still air as your palms stay pressed on his firm chest. "haechan…i need you to choose."
it's a long time before haechan responds. he's tired from the show and all the adrenaline, you can feel it in his slow breathing, in the way his eyes blink slowly up at you like an afterthought. but his eyes are what give it away – his gaze is sharp and calculative as his eyes roam your body, his touches not quite as drowsy as he appears, fingers tingling against skin.
you wait, your heart in your throat. you wait and you hope.
his full lips part, his eyes meeting yours.
"so…this is our last time together?"
of course that's his choice. the disappointment spreads like cold, an ache deep in your bones. "if that's what you choose." your voice is flimsy. "haechan, —" but nothing leaves your mouth, just a wounded sound. everything rushing up inside you like a waves breaking over the shore, memories flooding your senses.
the hurt on mark's face. haechan's hands on your skin. the blush that burned at jisung's skin as he watched haechan pull you to his car, his figure growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. haechan's lips against your ear as he held you.
"shhh," his arms hold you against his chest, smoothing down your spine as he comforts you as if you were a baby, you clinging on tight to him as if he were going to disappear. "it's okay," he murmurs. "we'll just have to make it count, hm?" gently, he guides your face out of his chest, relieved when he realizes that you're not crying yet, at least. kissing your cheek gently, he brushes his thumb against the apples of your cheeks. "are you alright? do you want me to take you home?"
"s-stop it." you manage to steady your breathing enough to repeat yourself. "stop being gentle with me, haechan. stop leading me on."
"stop getting hurt," he replies, a little teasing, but his tone aches.
"kiss me?"
this time you do, letting him guide your movements, as he pulls you down into his body as if he were trying to pull you all the way through him.
his kisses are slow and sweet, tilting his head almost shyly, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as he leans up into you. his tongue carefully slides over your bottom lip, before he's nudging your lips apart with his own again, tongue gently moving over yours, pulling away with a small smile when you chase after him, tongue stuck out slightly, chasing the warmth of his mouth.
"cute," he mumbles, and you pull your shirt up over your head just so he won't see the way your cheeks burn in the dark.
his movements become a little more urgent as he unclasps your bra, letting it slide to the floor of his car as he surges towards you. his lips begin to suck marks onto your chest, hands now squeezing your soft breasts, mapping your body indulgently. his tongue licks slowly around your right nipple, before giving it a gentle flick with his tongue, your body shifting restlessly against him as it sends a wave of arousal down to your core. he hugs you against him to steady your movements, lapping at your nipples and guiding each roll of your hips down into his.
your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him away from you. before you can tell him to stop teasing, he's kissed you again — placating. sweet like he knew everything you were about to say, before you even said it.
you raise your hips as his hands smooth over the pleats of your skirt, before flipping the soft material upwards. you hadn't worn anything special, not having the courage to, but the way he looked at your simple white panties, thumb running carefully over the pink bow in the middle of the waistband, made you feel warm all over. you hurry to pull them off, just to break the moment, but he catches them right before you tug them off your ankle.
"can i keep these?" his doe-eyes blink up at you. you can see the brown in his irises, almost gold in the light. you nod, and he lets out a laugh, kissing you through his smile as his fingers wander up your thighs.
he starts with slow circles on your clit, stroking the nub gently, feeling the way your hips shift at the feeling. when he speeds up his motions, fingers teasing along your slit and catching at your entrance a few times, your hips begin to pick up a steady rhythm, rocking into his hand.
"do you just want to cum like this?" he asks kindly, placing a bit more pressure on the tips of his fingers. he wants to be inside you badly, his erection almost painful from the lack of contact, but he knew that it might do more for him than it did for you.
this was how he wanted you to be taken care of for your first time, for your second time — this is why he didn't want you to slip away from him into rooms with men who wouldn't know what you needed, wouldn't care what you wanted.
or at least — it's what he tells himself to keep him sane.
"'m close," you mumble, your movements uncoordinated, neediness driving your hips into his hand, pleasure that you didn't quite know how to handle. "feels so empty, haechan, please –"
he slows down his movements, a hand sliding over your waist to rub at your lower back, eliciting a warm sound from you that radiates into his chest. he slides a finger into your tight entrance, feeling the way you tense around him, slowly slipping the finger in and out, curling against your walls carefully. his thumb comes up to press your clit, and you inhale sharply as the pressure in your abdomen builds.
"more…"
"baby, you're doing so well," he praises. freckling careful kisses on your neck to distract you, you feel another finger catch against your entrance, his hand breaking its rhythm to carefully slide in, stretching your hole out even more. with a lewd suck on the base of your neck, he curls both fingers against your walls, a slick finger slipping on your clit, and you feel yourself crash headfirst into your high, thighs clamping around his hand in sensitivity as you moan. he murmurs praises against your ear, kissing your jaw sweetly between each one.
he removes his hand from your core with a wet sound, and you drop down into his lap, feeling weak at the knees even though you weren't standing. he lets out a groan, feeling your wetness and warmth through his jeans, and he can feel his cock twitch under the fabric. but still, he waits until your breathing evens out, using his cleaner hand to stroke at your sides, humming lightly under his breath, the reassuring sound filling the car. his breaths sync with yours as you come down from your high, and together you let out a shaky exhale.
"do you mind?" he asks, quietly, hands going to his belt slowly, trying not to startle you. "we don't have to have sex. i just really need to take care of this now…" you nod, flustered, crawling backwards down his legs, and he leans forward to kiss the crown of your hair. against the soft sounds of your breathing, the sound of him unbuckling his belt, letting it drop into the shadows, and the rustle of fabric as he tugged his jeans and underwear down as much as he could, were endlessly arousing. you felt yourself begin to pulse with need again, your thighs squeezing together when he pulls out his cock, thick and heavy against his palm, the tip blushy and leaking.
he gives himself a tentative stroke, spreading pre-cum over his length before squeezing the base and hissing at the feeling as he tries to stop from cumming too soon. as if in a trance, you reach out towards him, your hand curiously wrapping around his shaft. he groans, low, as you give him a tentative stroke, although the sound is cut off by a high whimper when your fingers rub the head of his cock, silky under your fingertips.
"baby, you don't have to –" he's cut off by another moan as you squeeze his length, applying more pressure as you stroke. "fuck, jus' like that," he mumbles, weakly, as you twist your wrist a little on a downstroke, palm slippery with pre-cum. after a few more strokes, watching haechan's head loll this way and that, twisting with pleasure, you pay more attention to his tip, thumbing just under it, fingers rubbing his slit. haechan's hips are restless, thrusting into your hand, his body shaking and the muscles on his abdomen clenched tight. you give him a few more strokes, and his whines fill up the car, raspy and sinful in a way that made you crave him even more.
mimicking his movements, you slide your hand back down to his base and squeeze. he blinks hazily up at you, lips still parted, panting breathlessly.
"baby…"
"i need you," your voice feels broken, desire pulsing through each syllable. "please haechan," you add, as he swallows harshly, his cock twitching slightly against the warmth of your hand.
pulling you towards him, he kisses you again, fingers wandering down to your heat and stroking your folds. "so wet from touching me, baby?" he teases, smiling against your lips as he slips a finger in, and then another, your walls sucking him in easily. he finds your soft spot immediately, your thighs shaking around his hand as you whine. it's a sound embarrassing to your own ears, but it's like music to haechan's ears, as he lets out a low groan.
"it's too bad it's your last time with me," he murmurs, lightly, as he takes a condom out from the glove compartment, his hands moving swiftly as he tears open the package and rolls it onto his cock. "i would love to record your pretty sounds…" your voice lets out another small whimper, as if proving him right, as he adjusts you on his lap so the head of his cock lines up with your entrance. slowly, you sink down on him, clutching onto his body for support as you feel him fill you up tightly.
"breathe," he coaxes, letting his own head sink back against the seats, the hazy feeling of you wet and warm around him intensifying as you take all of him inside you. he continues on, trying to distract you by peppering gentle kisses all over your cheeks. "would you like to hear your voice in a song, sweetheart? all the girls in the crowd wondering who's pretty voice is on the track, wondering who's making her feel this good…" he hisses, when he feels you pulse around him. "you want that?"
your lips part, stuttering out jumbles of half-sentences, yes-es and nos. "'m just teasing, baby," he coos, as he thrusts his hips upwards experimentally, bouncing you on his lap. you lean into his body, feeling muscle firm under your palms as you raise your hips and grind against him, sensitivity making your thighs shake as the movement stimulates your clit.
responding to your need, his arm loops around your waist while his fingers wander towards your clit, stroking and rubbing it expertly as he continues to thrust up into you, the car jolting with his movements. his strong thighs tense as he moves, barely pulling out before stuffing himself into you again, your walls kneading his length in a way that makes his body feel hot with need, chasing his climax. your soft sounds each time his tip grazes your soft spot are an aphrodisiac, and he feels himself growing impossibly harder inside you, so aroused it almost hurts.
"haechan, i'm cumming," you moan, and his fingers put more pressure on your clit, as you bounce on him, eager for release.
"keep saying my name," he breathes, pulling you close, your bodies moving frantic and unsteady against each other, as you cum, mouthing his name against his skin. he empties himself into the condom soon after, hips still jolting as he helps you ride out the aftershocks of your climax, your breaths echoing loud in the car.
you almost wanted to ask for round 2 — and you were sure he would give it to you, if you had asked. instead you stay silent, feeling emptier than ever as he pulls out, your body draining of his warmth as he cleans you with wipes from his glove compartment, kissing you sweetly whenever your eyes met. the water bottle he procured from the passenger seat of the car making you wonder if this was his plan all along, as you sipped quietly, as he put your address in his phone to take you home.
—
you can feel him slip away from you on the drive back.
a sea of red and green lights move across the planes of his face as you watch him drive, one hand on the wheel and the other touching your hand softly on the centre console. you give his fingers a faint squeeze and he smiles, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a light kiss to your fingertips.
when you reach the next intersection, he pulls his hand from yours and puts it back on the steering wheel.
when he makes his next turn, his shoulders start to tense and the easy, relaxed expression on his face morphs into a stony one.
and when he finally pulls up in front of your apartment building, turning to face you, the glowing streetlights illuminating the outlines of his face do nothing to soften the blow of seeing him like this again — looking at you with half-lidded eyes, almost lazy in his power.
"are you coming to the next show?"
"i want to," you respond, your voice small. "...should i?"
"it doesn't really matter to me." his fingers tap against the wheel, restlessly. "i just hope you know you shouldn't wait around afterwards."
you bite your lip. "i know."
he nods. "so you know this is over?"
"i know."
"good girl." it feels like a punch to the stomach, and you inhale, sharply, hands gripping the handle of the car door. waiting for him to dismiss you, as he always did.
but then he's speaking again, breaking the silence. his voice is softer, a little more hesitant – "do you need me to walk you up?" he's not looking at you, eyes trained on his dashboard. "will you be okay?"
it's cruel, the way your heart stutters in your chest. you take one last look at him, trying to memorize everything — the sharp line of his jaw, his collarbones, the joints of his fingers, the way his pinky finger crooks slightly to the right. the faint smell of vanilla and something darker, mixed with his warmth. you try to memorize it because you're sure this is the last time you'll be so close to him again, both in proximity, and in the way his voice aches with something close to tenderness. in that moment, you know if you told him you needed him, he would turn off the engine and open your car door, holding you safe against his chest and walking you up to your apartment. but what for? for him to shut off on the way up the elevator, and turn into a stranger at your door?
"it's fine," you murmur, and you don't wait for a response before stepping out into the warm night.
—
your ribs press against the barrier, and you wince slightly. the crowd screams loud in your ear, as the boy in front of you looks up from his guitar at the crowd in front of him, dark gaze sliding over faces, tongue poking at his cheek and puffy lips stretched.
his eyes briefly meet yours, and your heart skips a beat.
and then he's looking back down at his guitar again, lips pursed in concentration.
the next time he glances up, the familiar glint is back, eyebrows drawn together. there was something strange about the way he was looking at you, not exactly meeting your eyes. was he looking at your clothes? your hair? or…
"oh my god!"
you shoot a brief glance back, at the girl who's just let out a squeal. she claps her hands over her mouth, eyes shining as she stares adoringly at haechan, unblinking. you don't have to check to know he's staring right back — you know the look on her face a little too well.
the disappointment and jealousy weighing on your chest is entirely unjustified, but you feel it heavy in your bones, anyway.
he had meant every word: it was truly over.
–
"did anyone see you?"
"no," you whimper, as he mouths over the seat of your panties, tongue lapping at your folds through the fabric.
"good girl," he pants, letting out a satisfied groan when he tugs them down your legs, burying his face in between your legs with a lewd moan.
but if it was truly over, why did he find you after the show last week, – slipping by you to tell you to meet him in the upstairs master bedroom, where he fingered you open in front of the mirror?
if it was truly over, why did a stagehand stop you from leaving after the next show you went to, passing you a note that told you to wait at the back entrance of the venue?
"fuck fuck fuck-"
and if it was truly over, why was he currently in between your spread legs, his mouth and chin covered with your juices as you lay on his bed?
"need you now, princess." his fingers brush your clit, and your thighs shake with overstimulation. "are you okay? i can wait-"
"don't wait," you plead, pulling him towards you. he follows, propping himself up on his arms as his face reaches yours, his lips gently nudging your own apart, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you. his sticky hands stroke your sides, leaving trails on your skin. "haechan –"
he interrupts you with another kiss. freckling more kisses down your neck, he smiles against the mark he left days ago, fading slightly now. "i missed this," he murmurs, and your heart stings, a collection of memories surfacing in your mind – of his eyes avoiding yours at shows. of him waiting onstage for someone else. of him smiling at you cordially, face blank as if he were greeting you for the first time when he talked to you in front of other fans.
"did you really?"
he doesn't respond, latching his lips to your skin with a hum, hands cupping your breasts in one swift motion, fingers teasing over your nipples and making your body arch into his touch.
"haechan…"
"what do you want, princess?" he wanders lower, licking at your cleavage. your mind threatens to blank when he circles a fingertip around your areola, puffy wet lips closing around a nipple and sucking wetly. "hm?"
"want you to fuck me…" your voice is shaky, but you press on. "like how you were gonna fuck that girl."
his hands still for just a brief second. you can see your words hit him, understanding and lust flickering in his responding laugh. he focuses his eyes back on your face, hands now coming up to brush your lips, caressing your cheek, smoothing over your skin almost lovingly.
this is how he was going to fuck her?
"open up," he murmurs, fingers pressed to your bottom lip. as if stuck in a trance, your lips part.
a wet mess of saliva, still mixed with traces of your arousal, drips down from his tongue into your mouth, connecting your lips with his in a glossy sheen. his lips tug into a smile as he sees your blown-out pupils, arousal completely overriding his every thought.
his fingers trace your jaw. "swallow," he commands, sweetly, and as always you do exactly as he says.
you feel something shift against your upper thigh, your hips rising on instinct to buck against his hard length, still trapped behind his ripped jeans.
his low groan is interrupted by a sharp rattling of the doorknob, followed by a thud against the door. both of you still, eyes focused on the locked door, straining your ears to hear the voices outside.
"are you sure no one saw you?" haechan asks, quietly. "did jisung see you? mark? jeno?"
"i don't think so," you mumble.
that was the arrangement you had come up with a little over a week ago, discussed in heated kisses and bliss-induced haze. you could keep seeing haechan, as long as you never saw the rest of the band again. on nights when he knew he wanted you, you would slip through crowds like a ghost to make your way into warm beds and cold bathrooms, saving him from the jealousy, and saving you from the questions.
of course, there were a few nights where no message would find you, where he wouldn't grab your wrist as you brushed past him in a hallway, his hands distracted with someone else. those nights used to make you cry, your entire being aching for his attention, his indifference just as bruising as his care.
the doorknob rattles again, and there's a knock on the door.
"haechan? are you in there?"
mark's voice.
"they're back early from the party," haechan mumbled. to your shock, he ignores them and tugs off his shirt roughly, revealing delicate tanned skin dotted with moles, looking soft-to-touch.
"haechan," mark's voice is exasperated. "i thought we agreed not to bring girls to our apartment."
haechan rolls his eyes as his hands go to his belt, ridding himself of his pants and underwear. you can see the muscles in his thighs tense as he makes his way up the bed, hands holding your hips.
"you wanted me to fuck you like the other girls?" he murmurs, low so only you can hear. "well. on your knees."
"but mark is –" you break off, seeing the way his eyes narrow, something dangerous flickering in his pupils. "but…but they're outside," you whisper. as if to prove your point, mark bangs on the door again.
and then jisung's voice, low and urgent comes through the door. "who is he even with? the girl he left the show with was alone when i saw her."
"god, are they all outside the door?" haechan grumbles, focusing his attention back on you when you let out a small sound of distress. "forget about them," he soothes, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. his mouth moves over yours searingly, possessive and all-consuming in the way he pushes his tongue into your mouth. "on your knees," he commands, quietly, against your mouth. "i won't ask again."
a thrill runs down your spine as you flip over, his large hands adjusting you so your back arches, head pressed into the pillows as he holds your hips up. he presses a kiss to your back as he reaches off the bed for a condom, rolling it onto his hard length with a soft groan. you look over your shoulder, see him stroking himself, mouth hanging open.
"hurry," you plead. you can feel slick on your thighs from the way he ate you out earlier, growing wetter from anticipation. "please."
he ignores you. "can you be quiet for me?" he mumbles. outside, you can hear the boys discussing something heatedly, voices low so you can't make out the words. "don't want anyone else to hear you."
"yes," you promise, meekly.
"good girl." he lines himself up to your entrance, reaching around to rub your clit as he runs the tip of his cock against your folds. you let out a shaky breath at the feeling, trying hard not to let it catch your vocal cords.
one hand on your hip and the other stroking your lower back, he pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to his girth. you feel a sting as he stretches your walls, filling you up deeply while burying himself inside you. he murmurs for you to relax, listening to you take shallow breaths, the way your hole flutters around his length making him want to thrust forward, relieve his own ache.
"haechan, are you asleep?"
there's a sharp rap on the door, and haechan curses as it makes you tighten around him, gummy walls gripping him like a vice, as if begging for his cum.
"you liked that, baby?" his voice is low, and mocking. you whimper. "you like the idea of them coming in and seeing you like this? letting me take you like a slut?"
"haechan, we know you're in there." now it's jeno's rough voice, devoid of its usual warmth. "we saw the shoes at the door. we need to talk."
haechan pulls out until only his tip is still inside you, and slams back in aggressively, filling you to the brim. he starts to build a rhythm, thrusting deep and slow inside you, letting you feel the drag of him against your walls as he strokes your clit with his fingers. he was taking his time with you — pausing to lean forward and press kisses to your shoulders, mouthing messily over your skin.
"haechan, please -" you try to keep your voice quiet, but he chooses this time to fuck you a little harder, picking up the pace, and your mouth hangs open as your aborted whimpers turn into drawn out moans.
"hm?" he prompts, faking nonchalance. but you can feel that the pace is affecting him too, his breathing growing heavier as he speeds up a little more.
"harder," you mumble, words feeling thick and slow in your mouth. "faster. fuck,"
a bang on the door. the loud sound makes you jolt, and haechan hisses as you clench down on him harshly again, your thighs inching closer together, creating a tighter fit around his thick cock.
"i wonder why they're not coming in yet." his voice in your ear is low, sultry. the kind he uses on-stage when he's teasing the crowd.
"i-isn't the door l-locked?"
"sure…but it's a really old lock. i know mark could open it if he really wanted to. he's done it before when i'm late for rehearsals, ah fuck-" he's slamming himself into you, barely pulling out before pushing in again, wet sounds filling the room. "fuck, you must really like that. how do you just keep getting tighter and tighter, hm?"
"haech–"
"maybe i'll ask them to come in…" he muses, his tone sickly sweet. "i just know you'll cum hard on my cock when they open the door, right? let them see how filthy you are?"
"don't –", you choke.
"should i tell them not to come in?"
"no," you gasp, and he laughs, darkly.
"no, i should tell them to come in?" he asks between breathless pants, pace unrelenting as the lewd sound of skin against skin fills the room. "you want me to talk to them baby?"
you let out an incoherent mumble, no longer sure of anything.
he coos at that. "dumb already, princess?" his hand wanders up to your chest, blunt nails haphazardly scraping across your nipples. your hips push back onto him instinctively, fucking yourself onto his length, your hips chasing pleasure from the sensitivity as you cum.
"haechan, i'm not leaving until you open the door." another thud, as mark sits down.
"fuck…" haechan's only half listening to mark as he throws his head back, murmuring curses as he feels you clench around him, milking his cock. it takes all the self control he has to place his hands on your waist, stilling your movements as he pulls out of you. he's so hard that it hurts, and he knows his release is close, but he still shifts your body until you're lying on your back, and he can see your tear-streaked face, drool smeared all over your chin.
you mouth his name soundlessly, fresh waves of tears gathering on your waterline as you see him move away from you, and you try to sit up to keep him in your line of sight.
"haechan, –"
"i'm here," he murmurs, one hand immediately finding yours and squeezing, the other grappling for the water bottle on the bedside table. he unscrews the cap with one hand as he moves towards you, helping you prop yourself up against the headboard. "drink."
he holds the bottle up to your lips, but you shake your head. "want you," you whisper, even though your mouth feels warm and sticky, your throat dry from moaning. you can't focus on anything except for the emptiness inside you, your clit throbbing whenever you shift your thighs together slightly. you're focused on his hard length, the slope of his shoulders down to his slender waist. you shake your head again, knocking the bottle against your lips and spilling a little bit of the water onto the sheets.
"don't be a brat." his voice is low, a dangerous sort of patience in his tone. "drink, or i won't give you what you want."
you swallow, his voice washing over you, pulling you under. this time when he raises the bottle to your lips, you hold it with shaky hands, letting water trickle down your throat. his own hand comes up, touching two fingers to your neck gently, making sure you were drinking instead of pretending by feeling for the movement of your throat.
"done?" he watches you lick your parted lips, dewy with water and saliva, and takes the bottle from you, placing it back on the stand. "do you want to keep going?"
you nod, slowly.
"use your words," he commands, quietly.
"please don't stop," you plead, shuffling towards him. it feels like the fog has cleared slightly in your head, the water making the heat haze dissipate. vaguely, you're sure that mark, jisung, and jeno must know what you were doing – must have heard the headboard thumping against the wall, haechan's low groans and your breathless whimpers.
you wonder what mark is thinking now, outside, not leaving and yet not breaking in like haechan said he could. it sends a wave of arousal down to your core, some part of you wanting him to see the way you break for haechan, completely and wholly his. your way of rejecting him without having to see his face – your way of explaining why you ignored him whenever he caught your eyes during shows and after-parties.
haechan reads you easily, observing the way your eyes flicker to the door. he's torn between opening the door himself — letting mark see you on his bed, fucked stupid by him, or stepping outside and telling mark to leave because no one should see or hear you like this but him.
"do you want me to tell mark to leave?"
"n-no," you hesitate. "don't."
he raises his eyebrows. "why?"
"w-want him to know that i'm yours," you mumble, a hand wrapping around his thigh and squeezing.
haechan's eyes darken. “mine?” he echoes, quietly, almost gently.
you're so focused on the shift in his features – the set of his jaw, the way he tenses, that you barely notice he's sliding off the bed and picking you up effortlessly so that you cling to his upper body, legs gripping his waist. his lip curls into a smile, head tilted mockingly as he starts to walk, strong arms holding you up.
your back hits solid wood, and you gasp.
"haechan?" mark's voice is crystal clear on the other side of the door.
haechan adjusts his grip, pushing you against the door as he slides his tip along your dripping cunt, making you squirm in his hold.
"be good, hm?" he whispers, as he pushes into you, eyes squeezing shut and jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls sucking him back in, pulsing along his length and making his cock throb. when he opens his eyes again, his gaze is unfocused, hazy, and you can see that this situation is heightening his arousal, causing his thrusts to be sloppy and unfocused as he chases his own high. each time he pushes into you, the weight of his hips snapping against yours pushes against the door, and you hear it jolt a little, the lock jiggling.
mark's shouted expletive rings against your ears, mirrored by haechan's own as he captures your lips in a kiss. the feeling is familiar and new at the same time, his tongue sliding languidly over yours, swiping against your bottom lip. at the sight of your parted mouth and wet lips, he moans again, and without hesitating he spits into your waiting mouth, sloppy and messy, causing it to dribble past your lips and down your chin.
the rhythm against the door is unmistakable, and you can hear footsteps as mark runs off. haechan laughs, a pleased hum in his chest that vibrates against your own as he leans into you, and he mouths down your neck, biting at your shoulder and letting his low groan scrape against his throat as a growl. you cum when your stiff nipples brush against his chest, the tiny bit of stimulation just enough to throw you over the edge into your orgasm, your thighs clenching around him as you sob, your core aching.
the feeling of your walls rippling around his length is too much to bear, and he barely lets you ride out your orgasm on him before he's pulling out of you and carrying you back to his bed. haechan tugs off the condom urgently as you lie there, tired and spent, watching as he strokes his length, fast, eyes fluttering open and shut with lust, his hips thrusting forward uncontrollably. his thumb ghosts just under the head of his cock, and then he's cumming all over your stomach and chest, sticky white spurts pooling on your skin.
you watch him out of half-lidded eyes as his breathing slows, collapsing next to you in a heap. the high from the sex hasn't faded yet – the consequences of being heard by all his bandmates hasn't hit you, as you bask in the temporary glow of being his.
a finger traces along the cum on your stomach, haechan transfixed by the sight. curious, your hands grab for the small mirror on his bedside table, and he comes out of his daze, handing it to you wordlessly.
in the moonlight, the marks he's made on your skin blur with the shadows. no part of you looks untouched — your tear-streaked face and kiss-swollen lips, bruises on your hips and the sting of the bite mark on your shoulder. your hands tremble a little as you focus the mirror on where his fingers play with his drying cum on your skin, tracing lines and curves.
"'m yours," you mumble out.
"yeah?" he chokes. "mine?"
dazedly, you point to your neck. "yours."
he groans, just watching you, eyes roving over your body. "you're beautiful," he whispers. you think he means it.
"more." your voice is quiet.
"no more, baby," he murmurs, looking up at you with concern. "it's too much for you."
you shake your head. "these could be from anyone," you point at the marks on your neck. his body tenses, hands stiff on your skin. "i want to be yours."
slowly, your words settle over him. he looks at you with an unreadable expression, the kind you see right before he strikes his first chord, the moment his eyes find yours in the crowd. a dark sort of determination, in the way his holds your gaze.
he reaches over, and opens a drawer. you can hear the sound of things knocking around inside as he roots his hand around, finally emerging with an eyeliner pen. through the mirror, you can see his hands splayed out over the space just under your breasts, pulling the skin over your ribcage taut. his tongue pokes out into the lower corner of his mouth as he places the tip of the pen to your skin.
he loops once. skids the pen downwards. jerks it up harshly, ending off with jagged motions, each brush trailing ink on your skin.
when he's done he leans backwards, raising his eyebrows, asking you wordlessly if this was finally enough. his signature on your body, next to the bruises and marks and last remnants of his cum on your skin.
—
"haechan?"
he doesn't respond, but a part of you expects it already – you've memorized the way he leaves.
"why didn't you fuck that girl tonight?"
he takes his time, taking a long sip from his bottle of wine. from where you lie on the bed, you can just see the broad frame of his back, his side profile as he looks out of the window and at the moon, bright in the sky, the milky glow illuminating his skin. without his makeup, he looked like just a boy – pretty features almost dainty on his face. it's his hands which break the facade, calloused and rough, with veins that make your head spin when you think about them for too long, holding the bottle up to his lips.
"didn't feel like it."
you think about his answer, blinking slowly from the sleepiness. "why did you fuck me?"
he faces forward, away from you. "felt like it."
"why?"
"i'm beginning to question that too," he replies, bluntly.
hurt aches in your bones, as silence rings loud in your ears. "if you don't want me here i can just go," you say, softly, and you're sure your voice sounds as wounded as you feel. "you've cleaned me up. i can leave if you want."
you can see him stiffen, his shoulders tensing up.
"where's jaemin?"
of course. sitting up, you wince at the ache between your legs. "he's probably asleep," you answer, bitterly. "but i can just call a cab –"
his back muscles tense, and then he's shifting from where he sits on the edge of the bed. sliding into the space next to you, he rests back against the headboard, legs stretched out over the sheets. a hand wraps around yours.
"ask me easier questions," he mumbles, turning your palm over so he can lace your fingers together, giving them a reassuring squeeze.
your breath stutters.
"what did you talk about? with the band?"
after cleaning you up and tucking you into bed, haechan had finally stalked out of the bedroom to talk to mark, jisung and jeno. he hadn't said a thing when he returned, holding a bottle of wine, placing it on the bedside table before stepping into the bathroom wordlessly to remove his makeup.
haechan blinks down slowly at your intertwined hands. "they asked me what was going on."
"what?"
"i've been losing focus," he mumbles. "during shows and during rehearsal. and jeno noticed i kept ditching girls at parties, said it wasn't like me to not be fucking around at all."
a beat.
you bite your lip. "you're…you're losing focus?"
but he just shakes his head. "they're wrong."
you can see that the topic is upsetting him, so you rush to ask another question. "do you write any of the songs that the band play?"
he raises his eyebrows. "so you care so much about the band now? does that mean you're a fan?"
he ignores your mumbled excuse, squeezing your hand again to let you know he was teasing. "mark usually writes the songs," he answers. "i don't have much to write about." and then, with a little more force, "ask me questions about me, not the band."
"what does this tattoo mean?" you place the tip of your finger just below his ribcage, where there's a small doodle of a bear paw.
"people say i look like a bear," he mumbles, a little shy. even in the moonlight, his pouty lips and round cheeks are evident, his shoulders broad as he slumps against the headboard.
"i see it," you confirm, and a smile flickers on his face.
"yeah?" he looks over at you, and his free arm loops around your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. his affection buzzes in your veins, as you try to divert his attention with another question.
"and what does this tattoo mean?" your other hand comes up again, now to trace at the sunflower peeking out from the base of his neck, trailing down to his shoulder.
he takes a deep breath. "my sister picked it."
"sister?"
"baby sister," he adds, softly. "she just turned six. this is her favorite flower."
"oh."
"why?" he tilts his head, bumping your own gently. "do i not seem like an older brother?"
"i think…" you hum, contemplating. "not when you're onstage," you decide.
"do you think i'm different? from when i'm onstage?"
"i don't know you enough to judge," you say, truthfully. aside from the sex, and from the brief moments right after when it felt like he was truly there, holding you, the haechan you knew was mostly the one flooded with stage lights, the kind of boy you had to beg to earn his attention.
haechan goes quiet, his hand on yours stilling, and you turn to look at him. tension is filling up the room, slow and thick like a fog, and you can't breathe against the weight of everything — the weight of his gaze, the almost boyish way his eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet yours.
"do you want to?"
you bite your lip.
maybe two weeks ago your heart would have leapt, maybe you would have begged for the opportunity to have him closer.
but your body has already had time to learn disappointment, to defend yourself against his callousness and his cold, learning the art of slipping in and out of intimacies. every line crossed, every boundary blurred.
"do i want to?" you echo, and you see him falter.
maybe his own words held more weight than he'd anticipated.
"you don't?"
or maybe he was just scared to hear your answer.
"will you let me?" you reflect the question back to him. his fingers twitch against your shoulder where he's still holding you.
there were some nights where it felt as if he was taking his adrenaline out on your body, or where he was making you forget the fear of being caught by overriding your senses with pleasure. there were others when you fell so deep into a headspace, that he would care for you gently, something romantic and tender in the negative space between your bodies.
and ultimately all of these nights ended the same – the same curl of his lip, his face closed-off, his voice too steady and unfeeling.
"how would you let me know you?" it's only when he flinches when you catch the harshness to your tone, your own words leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. "by barely letting things slip every night?"
"y/n…" it's not meant as a warning. your name is spoken softly, with an ache in it that makes goosebumps rise up your arms. "i thought you were fine."
"i am," you insist, feeling defensive. "i'm fine with you pretending you don't know me, or when you disappear on the drive home."
"y/n, –"
"just…don't say things if you don't mean them," you finish, mumbling your words to mute the hurt in them.
there's a long silence.
and then, his voice, so delicate and fragile, like he was afraid his words would bruise the space between him and you.
"we're playing at a bar this friday."
you make a sound of confusion, and he continues on. "it's only for a few fans who won some sort of a lucky draw. they get to talk to us and get autographs."
"i didn't enter," you cut in, but still he continues on, as if he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve.
"i'm inviting you now. and….and afterwards i'll leave with you and we can go to my place." he swallows. "my real apartment. not this one i share with the band." he lets out a shaky breath. "i don't… i don't usually bring girls there, if you can't tell."
"but…" the wheels in your head are turning slowly, as you try to catch up with what he's saying. "but if i'm there… and it's such a small crowd…the band is going to see that i'm there.
"they will," he confirms quietly.
"they're going to know you invited me. because i'm not a fan."
his lips twitch. "but you like me, no?"
"i do," you concede, absentmindedly. "but i thought you said…the band…"
"i don't think i really care about that anymore." his thumb dips low, brushing over the space under your ribs where his name is temporarily tattooed against your skin. "i…" he hesitates, before his thumb swipes against your skin again, and he takes a deep breath. "i told them about you. just now."
you feel like you're falling – a sense of vertigo making your head spin.
"what did you say?"
"just that…there was a you," he finished, lamely. "that we see each other more, but it's nothing." his hand squeezes yours, a gentle pulse. "nothing yet, anyway."
"i'll take it," you murmur, holding his hand clasped in both of yours and kissing him lightly on his fingertips. his face crumples, his chest caving in on itself with the weight of the tenderness he feels for you in that moment, and he leans in, tilting his head, eyes fluttering closed.
he kisses you like it's a promise, close-lipped and earnest. it feels almost like the two of you are finally on even ground.
—
"what are you trying to do?"
you jump, as the light in the small kitchenette flicks on. dirty dishes pile up in the sink, mugs scattered over the countertop, and the boy leaning against the fridge focuses his gaze on you. his voice is gentle, a mellow sort of sweetness undercut by the deepness of his voice. not in the way jisung's was deep, but a bass to it that gave it authority, one that the boy seldom had to use.
"what do you mean?"
jeno tilts his head. "y/n, do you know why haechan likes to fuck girls after his shows?"
the sweetness on your tongue from haechan's kiss decays into bitterness.
jeno doesn't seem to care. "he gets high off the feeling of the crowd. it's something he doesn't want to let go of, so he finds someone who adores him and makes them prove it." his eyes bore into yours, unblinking. "he doesn't care who he's with, y/n. he just likes the way they sound, screaming his name."
"but why doesn't-" you choke. it feels almost like you're betraying him. "why doesn't he date?"
jeno raises his eyebrows, and you feel pathetic. it’s a long time before he finally answers.
"all the girls are only after the version of him onstage. it's him they like, and haechan's just extending the performance. would you want to date someone who only liked one side of you?"
"but i don't just like that side of haechan," you protest, weakly. even then, you don't know what other sides you're alluding to — was it his gentleness with you? how he always held you after? the one who let his baby sister pick his tattoos?
"y/n?"
a soft voice sounds out from the corridor leading off into the bedrooms. sleep-ridden syllables mumbling out into the still air, calling your name.
"where are you? is everything okay?"
jeno's looking at you with someone like pity in his eyes, the way your body turns towards his voice like an instinct. "haechan isn't even his real name, did you know that?"
he crosses over to you, and places his mug into the sink behind your back. "try not to get too loud," he murmurs. "we're all tired."
and as haechan pulls you into his warm embrace, palms wandering over your skin, you bite your tongue and keep as quiet as possible.
—
haechan's head snaps up as he sees the door swing open again and more girls wander into the bar. there are excited squeals and shouts as they spot the band, he can hear mark's warm laugh and see jisung's wave out of his peripheral vision. behind him, jeno's methodically checking on his drum kit, and haechan can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, as if he knew.
his eyes scan the crowd again, praying he was wrong. but deep down he knows he would recognise your voice anywhere, be able to spot your features even in total darkness.
and right now, you weren't there at all.
his body goes on autopilot, muscle memory kicking in as he plays the chords, does his solos, nods along to the music. the crowd is frenetic, watching the way his eyebrows are drawn together, tonguing at his cheek, his lips downturned — the anger tense in his body making them whisper to themselves, wondering why this was part of his performance today. he keeps his expression slack as he signs autographs, nodding curtly towards fans as they bid him goodbye timidly, intimidated by his stormy gaze.
he doesn't understand why it makes his insides twist, each time he searches the crowd and darts his eyes back to his guitar. maybe he'd just gotten used to seeing you front row at his shows. maybe that was all this was — and you were a bad habit he should have broken.
it's what he tells himself as he lets his hands brush against the girl's as she holds her poster out to him, smiling a close-lipped smile, eyes dragging up and down his body excitedly. he lets her think it's a part of the performance, as he rails her in the bathroom of the bar, his eyes squeezed shut as she moans his name into the sink, trying to ignore the way her body didn't react at all like yours did, that his hands couldn't find purchase on her skin at all, and her voice made him want to crawl out of his skin.
you were a bad habit he should break — at least that's what he tells himself to keep him sane.
-> part 2 here!
taglist: @neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @simpforarmihn @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @smwhrinthehaze (sorry there were q a few i couldn't tag!)
a tear just dripped down my leg
this is what i was talking about…guys….if this isn’t brat tamer daddy cheol i don’t know what is
the you’re being a brat right now smirk? the that’s enough wink? the i’ll deal with you later head nod and pursed lips? the SILENCE AND BEING ABLE TO CONTROL THE SITUATION WITHOUT SAYING A WORD? i’m sick
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:) 19 <3, my wattpad: @what-the-jams. i like kpop and a lot of things cus im easy to please baybe 🫶🏼
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