(NSFW below, minors please do not read, i am not responsible for your media consumption nor do i condone it.)
“Aish, so noisy this morning.”
If Jaebeom had whispered that in your ear twenty minutes ago you’d would’ve thought he was talking about the hammering, thunderous sound of rain hitting the roof above you and the glass panes of the window to the left of you. The rain often wakes the two of you up in the wet season if your alarms or the cats don’t first, and it’s a nice, oddly calming way to wake up.
But you know that he’s not talking about the rain at all, in fact, he’s talking about the noises your making.
The ones you’re making because of the way he shoves his hips into yours, his thick cock splitting you open over and over. He’s so hard, and rough and deep it’s hard not to make noise, in your defence. He’s got you face down in your shared bed, your cheek smushed to the soft cotton of his pillow and your cunt dripping onto his side of the bed, his breathy voice hot against your ear and neck.
“You’re gonna’ wake the neighbours baby,” he murmurs, followed by a deep, guttural moan when you clench down on him, “gonna’ get another noise complaint.”
You don’t care, how the fuck could you?
He’s pressing you down, your back to his chest, his arms wrapped under your chest and pinning your arms against yourself, his face pressed to your neck and fucking you so deep you could swear you feel him touching your teeth. He’s drunk on you, drooling onto you and half saying words before giving up on them to focus on you, but you know they, the neighbours who makes those complaints, will never understand how it feels to have him like this.
They’ll never understand how it feels to have him, pussy drunk and diamond hard inside of you, stretching you out and fucking you full, or how it feels to have him whining into your ear or kissing your lips when he comes because no one but you has ever, or will ever, know what it’s like to have him like this.
Because everything you like about fucking, the closeness, him, his girthy cock, the security, the dominance that’s so interwound with care and love, his voice in your ear and his heartbeat so close to touching yours, is happening in this moment, and all those other moments that have earned you other complaints. And it’s happening because he’s taken the time to learn you, to learn how to fuck you to make you loud enough to wake two floors of neighbours.
He’s taken the time, put in the effort and cares enough to make sure that every time you two fuck, it’s exactly, exactly, how you like it.
You’re grunting because of the force and depth, you’re crying out because of the stretch, you’re shuddering because he’s got a stray finger brushing your clit and you’re moaning because you fucking love him.
Because he deserves to hear those noises, to revel in your moans and screams and sobs and whines because he’s earned them, they’re because of him.
You turn your head, mouthing at his jaw and nose pressing to the short cropped hair right above and in front of his ear, your eyes closed, desperate to have him know that this? You? Everything you do, like doing his laundry, eating the food he cooks even if it’s something you’ve never had before, listening to hours of new/unreleased/half finished music so he can have your opinion, rubbing his back out before and after concerts and practices, and letting him hammer his cock inside and letting him fill you with searing ropes of come is all because you love him, truly and dearly, love him.
“Love you,” you try to say, but it comes out in harsh, breathy grunts and you pair it with squeezes around his throbbing dick, knowing he’s on the precipice of a mind melting orgasm by the way his whimpering and moaning your name and knowing even better, that he comes the hardest when you tell him how you feel, “feel so good, so thick Beommie, so full, love you so much Beommie’.”
“Oh baby,” he quietly cries out, voice so similar to when he reaches those high notes in his music, your cute pet name for him his favourite thing to hear when your voice is as breathless as it is right now, “fuckin’ love you, love this pussy, my pussy, oh god-“
He comes and comes, shaking and shuddering against your back and grunting and panting like a dog against your neck, high pitched whines and the slow but harsh grind of his hips against the plush flesh of your ass as he uses your soppy cunt to completion is not enough to get you over the edge too, but you’re happy to give him a few minutes before you roll him over to take what you deserve.
He’s murmuring against your skin and kissing over the side of your face he can get to, worshipping you in the best way he can as his limbs grow fuzzy and his brain melts. You let him kiss at your skin as he pulls out, feeling the swarm of warmth peel down your inner thighs and clit and eyes rolling closed at that sensation.
“My pretty girl,” he whispers against the back of your neck, trailing down the curve of your spine as his arms leave your chest and his hands find purchase against the fat of your ass, rolling and squeezing at your skin, “love my pretty girl, let’s me do whatever I want to her cause’ she loves me.”
You sigh, rolling your neck and arching your back when you feel his warm breath wash lower and lower down your back, a little grin spreading your lips when you realise not only what he’s about to do to you, but also because he knows why this is all happening.
Repayment for using your body however he likes is often repaid in an hour long session of him mouthing and sucking and licking at your come filled pussy until you pass out or cry if he hadn’t made you come during. And sometimes, you’d hold off on letting yourself come when he was inside of you just so you could feel his tongue lap out his own come out of your cunt.
And sometimes, he did it just because he could, because you’re his as much as he is yours and sometimes he did it purely because that was the end goal in the first place, and filling you with his come first was just an added bonus.
And you weren’t one to deny him that what he wanted to do to your body, it rarely, if ever, ended in disappointment on your end.
“Love you,” he whispers and kisses into the small of your back, resting his cheek on your back and drawing circles over the red patches of skin his hips left on yours with one hand and trailing the other down to swirl in the mess of come on the highest part of your inner thighs, “love my baby.”
The rains still pouring, still making noise even if you aren’t anymore and you suppose it’ll continue to hammer down when he gets his mouth on you in a few minutes but you watch the rain hit the glass of the window and listen to it plunder against your roof and sigh, because despite the rain being loud, you know there’ll be another noise notice on your door in the morning because you’ve been louder. But it’ll probably just join the other three in your recycling bin, and you’re pretty sure there’ll be another one joining it in a few days, and a few days after that one there’ll probably be another.
Your neighbours just don’t understand what it’s like to be in bed with Lim Jaebeom, and nobody but you ever will.
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