seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from South Korea
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Australia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Netherlands
seen from Spain
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Spain
haechan nsfw audio
imagining riding haechan and hearing his voice get higher as you become more rough with your movements while he slowly reaches his orgasm. he’s sooo whiny when he feels your pussy clench around him ;( he loves when you use him as a toy to chase your own high
✶⋆.˚ haechan is a shameless perv !
warnings 18+ mdni, perv behavior, stalking, masturbation, voyeurism , exhibitionism, finger sucking,dry humping, objectifying (if u squint), breeding kink, unprotected sex, hymen ripping, mentions of implied pregnancy
pairing perv!haechan x virgin fem!reader
wc 7k
a/n wtf did i just write
haechan is just a simple guy. he doesn't mean any harm to you, you just happened to catch his eye one afternoon on campus.
maybe it was the way you laughed at something your friend said, head tilted back without a care in the world. maybe it was the way you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear while reading beneath the shade of a tree or maybe there wasn't a reason at all.
all he knows is that after that day, he couldn't forget you, he tried. he really did but somehow everytime he thought about you led his hand in his trousers.
he was tired, tired of stroking himself alone. he laid in his bed every night, the rhythm of his chest rising up and down, sweat scattered on his forehead, as he imagines you, taking his length, filling you to the brim, tears leaving your eyes. he even thought about impreganting you, so you can't leave him.
but at the end of the day, it's all just a piece of his imagination. however, fate has another plan, the dream house party is this weekend. this time, he'd approach you without hesitation filling his blood.
it was finally the weekend. the one where haechan had been thinking about for weeks, where he was finally going to talk to you. he genuinely felt so pathetic as if he was high school teenage girl trying to confess to her crush, but the thing was that this was exactly the same thing.
he saw you the moment you walked in. the noise of the party didn’t fade, not really, but something about you cut through it anyway. oh god, you wore a short skim dress, not aware at how many jerks might be staring at you (including him) which made him want to gauge their eyes. he swore he popped a boner right there and then.
his hands embarassingly sweaty, resulting him clamping his hands over his crotch, trying to hide his rising length during the whole party. it was 12 am, people were leaving slowly, haechan was still there, still standing somewhere between “i’m going to do it” and “i’ll wait a few more minutes.”
which, at this point, was basically his entire personality for the night, he watched you from across the room. you were still surrounded by your friends, still talking, still smiling at something someone said like the world wasn’t quietly winding down around you. like time wasn’t slipping away with every second he hesitated.
he sighed, finally forcing his feet to move this was it. no more standing there pretending he was “waiting for the right moment.” there was no right moment. there was only this one, messy, real, slightly terrifying one.
he took a step forward, then another, eyes locked on you like if he looked away even for a second, he might lose the courage completely but then–
your group shifted, your friends started moving straight toward him or more specifically, toward his friends’ side of the room. haechan’s steps slowed almost instantly.
of course.
of course this was happening now, his heart kicked up so fast it almost felt loud in his ears, like it was trying to warn him before his brain could even catch up. suddenly, everything felt closer. tighter. like the room had shrunk without asking permission.
haechan caught in his gaze, the way you were walking towards him right now...everytime you took a step, your oh so perfect tits bounce just right, his eyes locked on them, for too long but not too long for you to notice. it drived him to the edge of crazy.
his mind already racing with filthly thoughts, he shifts uncomfortably, adjusting his growing erection in his pants. he let out a small, slightly awkward breath that might’ve been a laugh if he had more control over his nervous system.
one of your friends cut in first, haechan barely had time to register the movement before someone was suddenly in front of him, smiling like this was the most normal thing in the world.
“hey! wanna play truth or dare?”
for a second, he just blinked because his brain was still stuck on you being right there. close enough that he didn’t even have to look for you anymore.
“uh—yeah,” he heard himself say before he could overthink it into oblivion, his voice sounded normal. somehow miraculously. his friends immediately reacted like he had just agreed to jump off a building for fun.
haechan shot them a look, but it didn’t really land because his attention kept slipping back to you.
the group started forming a loose circle in the living room, people dragging chairs, sitting on the floor, laughing as the night finally settled into something slower, more contained.
haechan slides into the circle, positioning himself directly across from you so he has a perfect view. he leans back on his hands, legs spread casually as he watches you settle into your spot.
"alright, who's going first?" jaemin asks, spinning an empty bottle in the center. the bottle slows down, pointing directly at one of your friends.one of the friends clapped her hands dramatically, grinning “truth or dare?” the girl the bottle landed on didn’t even hesitate “truth!” immediate chaos.
the group around her reacted at once,
“no fun!!”
“boring!”
“you’re supposed to suffer a little!”
laughter broke through the complaints, filling the space again, light and easy, bouncing off the walls that were slowly feeling less like a party and more like a shared secret between everyone left in the room.
haechan let himself smile a little at that, just watching, but then his eyes drifted.
of course they did, to you.
you were sitting not too far away, listening, laughing at something someone whispered beside you, completely relaxed like the whole thing didn’t have the same effect on him that it did on you.
the girl suddenly leaned forward, eyes scanning the circle like she was about to expose secrets for fun “okay so,” she said, dragging it out for effect, “the people among us… who still is a virgin!" the room went instantly louder.
“oh my god—”
laughter bounced around the circle as people started pointing, teasing, trying to guess before anyone even answered properly. she buried her face in her hands for a second before finally peeking out between her fingers “ugh, fine.”
the room quieted immediately, she pointed across the circle “it's y/n..!" for a split second, everything went still then every head turned toward you, haechan's heart immediately dropped somewhere near his stomach.
the words hit him like a truck, his breath hitching audibly in his throat. immediately, his jeans became painfully tight, the realization that you were untouched driving him absolutely insane. he shifts his legs uncomfortably, trying to hide the massive bulge forming in his pants, his eyes locked solely on you with a newfound, predatory hunger. "fuck..." he muttered under his breath.
you looked completely caught off guard, “what?” you laughed, staring at your friend in disbelief.
“you asked!”
“i didn't think you'd actually say it..”
the room exploded into reactions, some people looked shocked and some looked suspicious. others immediately started teasing you while your friend defended herself with a dramatic, “don't blame me! you told me the truth!”
later, as the party slowly emptied out, people began gathering their things and saying their goodbyes.
the once crowded living room was now scattered with half-finished conversations and tired laughter. the energy had shifted completely from loud and chaotic to soft and sleepy.
haechan stood near the front door, hands tucked into his pockets and somehow, after spending an entire night trying to gather the courage to talk to you, he still hadn't done it.
it was actually impressive.
almost, then he saw you. you were saying goodbye to your friends, adjusting the strap of your bag as you prepared to leave. his stomach dropped.
no.
absolutely not.
if he let you walk out that door now, he knew exactly what would happen. before he could talk himself out of it, his feet started moving and suddenly he was standing in front of you. for a moment, neither of you said anything.
mostly because haechan's carefully prepared speech had completely disappeared from his brain.
"uh..."
great start.
you looked at him expectantly, he nearly laughed from nerves "you're leaving?" the second the words left his mouth, he wanted to throw himself into traffic.
obviously you were leaving.
you were standing by the door with your bag on.
genius observation.
but instead of looking annoyed, you smiled slightly. "yeah."
"right. yeah." he said, with a hint of hesitation.
silence.
haechan could feel himself actively losing this battle then he forced himself to continue "i was wondering..." his voice came out steadier this time. "would it be okay if i dropped you home?"
for a second, his heart forgot how to function, the question hung between you yet somehow it felt like the most terrifying thing he'd ever asked. you blinked, clearly surprised, not uncomfortable. just surprised which, honestly, was fair.
from your perspective, a guy you'd barely spoken to had suddenly appeared at the end of the night offering you a ride.
haechan immediately rushed to explain "only if you're okay with it," he added quickly. "if not, that's completely fine." he scratched the back of his neck, looking away for a moment "i just thought i'd ask." his honesty surprised even himself.
you studied him for a second and for the first time since he'd noticed you months ago in that university courtyard, haechan realized he wasn't looking at some impossible fantasy. he was standing in front of a real person and for the first time, you were looking right back at him.
ever since that night he dropped you to your home. it stimulates him that he knows where you live, your address. he has no bad intentions, he would never think of doing such a pathetic thing— but here he is, infront of your apartment complex.
he has your routine memorized, like the back of his hand. to anyone it was just a mundane routine but to him? it was poetry. he knew, at five am, the morning light peeked in your apartment causing you to wake up. then you'd get ready til six thirty am and leave for your uni.
you'd return home by seven to seven thirty pm, the real rush that made his blood hum with excitement was that today you were at a sleepover, he heard from your friends meaning you wouldn't be home today.
he has no bad intentions, really. he just wants you to feel loved, loved by him.
right now, he stands in front of your apartment. his eyes are locked on the keypad. he paces slowly in the dimly lit hallway. in his mind, he replays the exact movement of your finger. he had the code completely memorized.
he steps closer and presses the digits one by one. a sharp beep tears through the silent hallway. the lock click turns, as the door opens and all he could smell was remnents of you, your smell and your presence.
he steps inside, his eyes filled with lust scanning the familiarly unfamiliar place, the scent of vanilla and jasmine hits him instantly, your scent. it's intoxicating, driving him mad with desire.
he closes the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet apartment. he pushes open your bedroom door slowly, stepping inside. his breath catches in his throat. the room is a sanctuary, soft pink walls, fairy lights draped across the ceiling, your scent lingering in the air like a beautiful ghost. he runs his fingers along the edge of your desk, his touch gentle, reverent.
he exits youe room, his feet moving towards the bathroom with a hidden ambition. his heart races as he spies your discarded panties on the bathroom floor. he picks them up cautiously, bringing them to his nose, oh god, your smell... something intimate and erotic awakes inside of him. his cock hardens instantly in his sweatpants.
he looks around, checking if someone could see him. the irony, his hand travels down to his trousers. he palmed his crotch as he found himself delving into your scent, he gasps for air.
he presses the fabric against his nose again, inhaling deeply. his free hand travels down his sweatpants, slowly. his throbbing length springs free and he groans softly, stroking himself as he sniffs your panties. he breathes, his thumb circling his tip. his breath is ragged, desperate. desperate for you.
his hand moves faster, pumping his length rhythmically as he imagines you beneath him. he presses your panties against his face, groaning at the intoxicating scent, "fuck... you smell so good, baby..." he pants, his hips bucking slightly, he closes his eyes, picturing your face.
his strokes grow harder, faster. in his mind, he sees you— eyes wide, lips parted as he slides inside you. He imagines your tight warmth gripping him, your soft moans filling his ears, "yes... take it all" he whines, his hips thrusting into empty air, his voice echoing in the empty apartment.
his pace becomes frantic, desperate. his cock twitches violently in his grip as he imagines your walls clamping down on him, milking him endlessly. his other hand squeezes your panties against his face, he strokes himself with the thrill of getting caught by you.
with a guttural, choked moan, his body arches violently. thick ropes of cum spill over his hand and the bathroom floor, his hips bucking uncontrollably into his fist as he rides out the intense orgasm. he gasps, panting heavily. his entire body trembles as the waves of pleasure crash over him.
after shamelessly catching his breath, he moves to your dresser, pulling open the drawer filled with your neatly folded panties. his eyes darken with hunger as he selects a pair. soft, silk, unused. he rubs his drying cum across the fabric, marking them with his essence.
a dark grin spreads across his face as he finishes marking them, his chest swells with twisted pride that every morning you'll slide into these panties, unaware that his cum will be pressing against your folds, coating your delicate flesh. you'll walk around, go about your day, feeling nothing but the fabric.
the next few days, he sees you across campus and his heart swells with this dark secret. you wave at him brightly, completely unaware that your sweet pussy is basically wraped around his essence. he waves back, playing the naive friend while inside he's burning with possesion.
for the next few weeks, the space between you teo seemed to shrink with every passing day. it became a fixture in the lecture halls, always sliding into the same creaking wooden seats, shoulders brushing with every shared laugh. but the casual hangouts and quiet study dates were no longer enough to quiet the restless storm brewing inside him.
a heavy, aching dissatisfaction had taken root. he didn’t just want to be close to you anymore; he wanted to tear down every remaining boundary, to consume you completely and feel you wrap around him from the inside out.
he just couldn't wait no more. he tried. he really did. but you would test his patience when you showed up in the shortest shorts, and tight tanks that barely covered you. sometimes he wondered if you were intentionally straining his patience, pushing his self-control to the limit.
today, he stood just a step away, his chest rising and falling in a slow, deliberate rhythm. the usual easygoing warmth in his eyes had vanished, replaced by something dark, intense, and unreadable as he watched the rain drip from your jawline.
you'd asked him to drop you off to your apartment, but it started raining, heavily. oh, how haechan thanked the heavens.
the rain fell in punishing sheets, standing under the shelter of the apartment awning, you were both completely soaked. strands of wet hair clung to your face, and your clothes felt heavy, plastering themselves to your skin.
haechan's eyes flickered, catching the way your white shirt had become translucent from the rain, clinging to your curves like a second skin. through the thin, wet fabric, your black bra was clearly visible, the lace pattern barely concealed.
he swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he watched the water droplets trail down between your breasts, disappearing beneath your collar.
it took every ounce of his self-control to keep his composure. he clenched his jaw, forcing his eyes away from the tantalizing sight of your wet shirt clinging to your breasts. he shifted his weight, discreetly adjusting his stance to hide the growing problem in his jeans, his knuckles turning white as he shoved his hands into his pockets.
"uh, i'll go now.." he said, diverting his eyes from you. "you're going to freeze out here," you said, your voice shivering slightly as you offered a kind, sympathetic smile. you gestured toward the heavy glass doors of the complex.
"come inside. just until the storm lets up, i can get you a dry towel." you urged him. how could he refuse you?, to which he reluctantly walked to your apartment, his steps heavy and deliberate as he followed you down the quiet corridor. he kept his eyes locked firmly on the back of your head, watching the way your wet clothes clung to your skin.
his hands curling into tight fists at his sides to keep from reaching out prematurely. he was crossing the threshold into your private world. a faint, dangerous shift passed over his features; a predator recognizing that the cage doors had just been unlocked from the inside.
when you unlocked the door, he stepped inside the utterly familiar house, which once he filled his scent with, inhaling deeply. the air still holds traces of him, ghosts of his presence, of the countless hours he's spent inside your walls. his eyes scan over you, damp and vulnerable, unaware that he's violated this sanctuary of yours dozens of times.
he watches you disappear into the bathroom, his mind racing. the sight of you, soaked and naive, has his heart pounding and his jeans growing tight. when you return with a towel, he takes it from you without a word, deliberately letting his fingers brush against yours.
"thanks.." he said with a soft smile, "yeah, no worries. just make sure don't catch a cold!
he nods, forcing his smile to remain casual as he watches you dry your hair. the gentle concern in your voice sends a jolt of possessiveness through him. he wants to keep you warm, keep you safe... and keep you wrapped around his dick.
"i'll bring you something warm to drink, mhm?" you said softly. his heart swelled at your sweetness. he nodded, watching you walk into the kitchen to make hot coffee. his steps were completely silent as he followed.
he purposely stood directly behind you, pressing his broad, damp chest flush against your back. he leaned his weight against the counter, trapping you between his bodu and the kitchen island. his cock presses against your soaked shorts as he feigns casual indifference, pretending to observe the coffee brewing.
"smells good," yeah, he couldn't give one single fuck about the coffee, the only scent he was craving was yours. he murmurs against your ear, his hips subtly grinding forward so you can't miss it.
you jolted, your breath hitching at the sudden warmth pressing against your back. you quickly convinced yourself he wasn’t doing it intentionally; the kitchen was small, and he was just trying to stay out of the way.
trying to shake off the sudden nervousness, you forced your hands to stay steady and continued brewing the coffee, "uh, yeah..." you stammered, your voice trailing off as you stared fixedly at the mugs, trying to ignore the wetness dripping in your panties.
he notices your nervousness and it intoxicates him. the way you're trying so hard to be normal, to be a good host, while he's violating your personal space. he grinds a little harder, letting you feel the full length of his arousal pressed between your ass cheeks.
you didn't mean to let out a whimper, your clamped your thighs tighter at the contact. haechan's ego swelling at your lack of experience.
his eyes flash with triumph at your unintentional whimper. he swallows hard, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back against him fully. his other hand moves to cover yours on the counter, holding you in place as he continues to grind against you slowly, deliberately.
"shh..." his hand travels around your curves, you didn't stop him, it felt so good.
he feels your knees weaken and it makes him dizzy with power. your body is betraying you, responding to his hidden assault even as your mind remains oblivious. he grinds with more pressure. "just let your body feel it...doll."
his hand slides down from your waist to grip your thigh, lifting it slightly to change the angle so he can press deeper between your cheeks. he kisses your neck gently as he dry humps you against the counter.
haechan was way more vocal than you, he moaned against your ear, goosebumps spreading across your skin. his hand travels down to the waistband of your soaked shorts and your panties, tugging them down slowly as your whimpers fill the kitchen.
he drops them to the floor, exposing your bare skin to the cool air and his burning gaze. his cock is rock hard against your ass, slick with his own precum. "you're so wet, baby.." he groans, "you can give it to me, right?"
he coaxed you with his sweet and gentle voice, His voice drops to a low, soothing murmur as his fingers find your slick folds, sliding inside you with agonizing slowness. he feels your walls clench around him, your body responding despite your confusion.
"easy there, doll... just relax for me..." he curls his fingers gently, searching for that spot he knows makes you melt. "you feel so good..."
"haechan...i've never done this before..." you let out a breathy moan, his heart stutters at your confession–which he already knows, something dark and predatory burns behimd his eyes. he strokes you slower, gentler, revering the wet heat of you. his thumb finds the bundle of nerves, rubbing soft circles. he continues to stimulate you to the fullest.
he turns you to face him, his hands framing your face gently as he sees your eyes got glossy from the mere pleasure he gave you. he wondered how badly are you going to break when he stuffs you with his cock, filling you up or when he fucks your throat ruthlessly, gagging around his cock.
oh he was just getting started, you were so devastingly innocent, all he wanted to do was to corrupt you beyond any limit.
his lips curl into a dark smile as he takes in your innocent face, your tear-filled eyes. he realizes just how easy it would be to corrupt you, to take your virginity and make you love every second of it.
haechan, then led you into the bedroom, his hand firm on your lower back as he guided you forward. once inside he started peeling off his clothes right in front of you, first tugging his shirt over his head to reveal his chest, then shoving his pants and underwear down in one motion.
his cock sprung free, already half-hard and flushed. he stepped out of the pile of fabric and moved closer, reaching for your own clothes next. he stripped you slowly, pulling your soaked shirt off, as he clipped off your bra as you stood bare in front of him.
suddenly you were hyperaware of everything about you. you felt insecure, your hands rushed to cover your breasts– but haechan burned inside when he witnessed you conceal your beautiful body, the body which he can worship for hours, the body which he could not leave untouched.
"no, no, no." he immediately pushed your hands from covering yourself. he sounded so angered as if it personally offended him, it absolutely did. he let you sit on the bed, standing in front of you with his cock standing hard.
he had climbed onto the bed and pushed two fingers into your mouth, sliding them over your tongue, "suck," he whispered, his other hand stroked his cock. your naive eyes fluttered open, confused but obedient as you closed your lips around his fingers and sucked gently.
he whimpered, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with the head of his cock, "you're so beautiful, do you know that?" you took him into your mouth, tasting the salt of his precum while he thrust shallowly between your lips, he removed his cock from your lips, and laid you down on the bed.
he pinned your wrists above your head. he shifted lower between your spread thighs, releasing one wrist so his fingers could trail down your stomach. two thick digits pressed between your folds, rubbing over your clit in slow circles before he pushed them inside.
a moan escaped your lips when he moved his digits inside you, his ego swelling beyond limit. he worked them in and out steadily, stretching your tight walls while his thumb kept stroking that sensitive spot above. the way your back arched oh god, he loved how your tits bounced to the rhythm of his strokes. your juices coated his fingers quickly as he curled them upward, searching for the spot that made your hips twitch.
he pulled his fingers free after a few minutes and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low hum. then he lowered his face between your legs, leaving small pecks on your stomach, on your pelvic bone and on your inner thigh. his tongue dragged a long, flat stripe from your entrance up to your clit, tasting you fully before he sealed his lips around the swollen nub and sucked resulting a devastingly beautiful moan from you. "mhmg!...haechan.."
"oh you taste like heaven..." he licked and lapped with purpose, tongue dipping inside you now and then while his nose pressed against your mound. you trembled continuously and he showed no signs of stopping his assault on your core.
his hands gripped your thighs, keeping them wide open as he ate you out, saliva and your wetness mixing and dripping down toward the sheets.
he stayed there, tongue working deeper and faster, it made you see white, your toes curled with pleasure filling up your nerves. you squirted until your thighs started shaking around his head, your juices gushing out rapidly. his face, the sheets and your thighs dripped of your cum.
only then did he pull back, lips shiny, and crawl up your body again. he gazed at your dried tears, "oh baby, you did so well," he captured your lips in a deep, consuming kiss, nothing sweet or innocent about it. his tongue invades your mouth. he moaned into the kiss, tasting your juice, suckling on your tongue, a clash of teeth and tongues.
"i'm gonna fill you up raw, baby..." he heaved with lust veiling his eyes, his cock rested heavy against your slick pussy as he positioned himself, the head nudging your entrance without pushing in yet.
he growls, lining the thick head of his cock against your untouched entrance. he pushes forward slowly at first, the fat tip stretching your tight hole, then slams in deeper with one rough thrust. your hymen tears open under the force, the thin membrane ripping apart around his cock as he forces every inch inside you, you screamed out, with pain flowing in veins which slowly transitioned into tempering pleasure.
blood trickles out around his shaft, spilling on the bedsheet and mixing with the slick from his precum as he starts pounding into you without mercy. each thrust drives deeper, stretching your virgin walls that clench and flutter around him.
he pulls back just enough to see the red streaks on his cock before slamming back in, fucking the torn innocence wider with every stroke. his hips snap forward relentlessly, the wet sounds of your bleeding cunt filling the room as he claims your virginity completely.
he doesn't slow down, not one bit. he finally have you under him, after months of longing. hd grinded his pelvis against your clit while his cock rearranges your insides, pushing past the resistance until he's buried balls deep as he fucks you harder, the head of his dick battering your cervix with each brutal thrust.
your body shakes under him while he uses your freshly deflowered pussy, pulling out partially to watch your juices cling to his cock before ramming back inside.
his pace grew erratic as he chased his orgasm, grinding deep and holding there while his cock pulsed. hot cum flooded your insides, thick ropes painting your walls and leaking out around his shaft to mix with the blood.
he stayed buried inside you, rocking gently to push his load deeper, "stay like this, doll.." he ordered, keeping you pinned beneath him, "we don't want any of it to drip out? okay?"
haechan told himself, he can't live without you, never and you can never leave him, ever. the way he can keep you to himself, only to himself is to get you pregnant. his nerves filled with joy, when he envisions you all big and plump with his seed in you.
so, even after he came he kept his cock inside, half-hard and twitching as more cum seeped into you. his hands roamed your body while he whispered about how he'd keep coming back to fill you up until your belly swelled.
you laid there dazed, his fingers back in your mouth as you sucked them clean, completely unaware of how thoroughly he'd claimed you.
he, truly is a shameless motherfucker.
ACROSS THE HALL. | ── [ l.dh ]
── ⭒ staring .ᐟ ౨ৎ HAECHAN x afab!reader
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ₊ ˙ 🗝 ⋆ 𔘓 ⠀₊ -
SUMMARY: ── when your hot, infuriating next-door neighbor haechan steals your parking spot, teasing quickly turns into messy, undeniable yearning.
GENRE: enemies to lovers, SMUT (18+, mdni), bickering, fluff, idol!haechan, neighbor!haechan CW/TAGS: oral (f & m receiving), piv sex, spanking, hair pulling, choking, munch! haechan WORDS | 5.1k A/N | love me some hyuck, enjoy!
゛ ♡˚♬ ﾟ. ₊ 𓈒 ◌ ♪
── the white lines in the parking lot are crooked. you’ve noticed it before—the one between your space and the next curves ever so slightly, like the painter had grown careless toward the end of the job. you’ve learned to angle your car to match it. haechan hasn’t.
it’s a thursday night when you find his black sedan sprawled over both spaces, the hood angled like it’s posing for a photo no one asked for. he’s taken yours—your number painted in neat white digits on the asphalt—without hesitation, without apology.
you stand there in the still, cold air, keys heavy in your hand. somewhere above, muffled by concrete, you hear his laugh. it’s the kind of sound that feels like someone has tapped you on the shoulder without warning—light, but irritating in a way you can’t shake. by the time you drag yourself upstairs, the laughter has moved into the hallway. he’s there, outside his door, hood up, scrolling on his phone like the building belongs to him.
“you’re in my spot,” you say. he looks up, one eyebrow lifting. “pretty sure asphalt isn’t personal property.” “it’s numbered,” you point out, holding up your key fob like it’s proof of something meaningful. “yeah, well,” he slips his phone into his hoodie pocket, “you weren’t using it.”
it’s still strange sometimes, living across the hall from him. you’d known who he was before you moved in—not personally, but in the way everyone vaguely knows an idol. you’d seen his face in subway ads, grinning under flawless lighting, and in those hyper-edited music videos your younger cousin wouldn’t stop replaying. now he’s just haechan from across the hall, the one who leaves his laundry in the communal dryer too long, who forgets to take in his packages until they pile up like building blocks, who sings under his breath while checking his mailbox. he’s almost normal until you remember he isn’t.
the hallway smells faintly of burnt toast—probably from his kitchen. you imagine him leaving bread in too long just to annoy you. he smirks like he can tell you’re thinking something unpleasant about him.
“i’ll move it tomorrow,” he says, already turning his key. “tonight,” you correct. he glances over his shoulder, grin widening. “i like you better when you’re mad.”
the door shuts. the faint click of his lock lingers in the quiet, leaving you with a dozen things you could have said but didn’t.
ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ
the elevator dies on a monday morning. no warning, no apologetic email from management—just a limp, handwritten sign taped crookedly over the buttons that says out of order in smudged marker. you stare at it for a while, as if the sheer force of your glare might coax it back to life. twelve floors suddenly feels like a punishment rather than a home.
“guess we’re walking,” a voice says behind you.
you don’t need to turn around to know who it is. that voice has a particular way of wrapping itself around a sentence, casual but smug, like he’s already certain you’re going to disagree.
haechan steps up beside you, hands in his hoodie pocket, eyeing the sign. “what’s the matter? afraid of a little exercise?”
“afraid of having to listen to you for twelve floors,” you say, pressing the stairwell door open.
he follows, his sneakers squeaking faintly on the concrete steps. “don’t worry, i’ll slow down so you can catch your breath. you can thank me later.”
“i won’t,” you reply, but you already know he’s smiling without looking at him. the stairwell smells faintly of dust and something metallic. your footsteps echo in an odd, hollow rhythm that his somehow syncs with, even though you’re both pretending not to notice. by the third flight, he’s humming under his breath—a melody you recognize from one of those overproduced comeback teasers—and you hate that you know it.
when you reach your floor, he holds the door open for you with an exaggerated bow. “ladies first. can’t have my favorite neighbor collapsing right outside her apartment.”
you step through without looking at him, but your pulse is a little too quick for the climb alone.
it’s nearly midnight when you push through the glass doors of the lobby, the air outside still clinging to you—warm, heavy, and faintly carrying the smell of grilled meat from the restaurant you just left. you’re not drunk exactly, but your balance has softened, and the world seems slower than it was an hour ago. the elevator is still out, the crooked out of order sign hanging stubbornly in place. you’re about to open the stairwell door when it swings toward you, and there he is—haechan, or 'hyuck' - you've learned —blinking like you’ve just woken him from a dream.
“evening,” he says, drawing the word out. there’s a pink flush high on his cheeks, and his grin looks lazy, loosened. “you’ve been drinking,” you say. “so have you,” he points out, leaning on the doorframe. “you’re holding your shoes.” you glance down. you are. the straps had been digging into your feet all night, so you’d given up on dignity three blocks ago. “i didn’t feel like suffering for fashion.” he chuckles, low and warm. “that’s a shame. i was going to say you looked nice tonight.” “you’ve never said anything nice to me before.” “i complimented your hair once.” “you said it looked less terrible than usual.” “still a compliment.”
you push past him into the stairwell, the smell of his cologne trailing after you—something sharp but not unpleasant, like citrus just before it’s cut. he follows, his steps falling in time with yours even though you speed up just a little.
“i’ll walk you up,” he says. “i don’t need an escort.” “i know. but it’s late. and you live in the apartment right across from mine, so really, this is just me walking home.”
the stairwell feels narrower than usual, and the fluorescent lights overhead make shadows bloom in the corners of his face. by the eighth floor, your conversation has drifted into the kind of nonsense that’s only funny when you’re both a little buzzed—arguing about whether cereal counts as soup, who’d win in a fight between a pigeon and a rat. you laugh without meaning to, and it hangs in the air between you, light and dangerous.
at your door, you pause, keys in hand. he leans against the wall, watching you with that same easy, half-asleep smile.
“you sure you don’t need me to inspect the place for intruders?” he asks, tilting his head toward your door. “i think the only intruder here is you,” you say, sliding the key into the lock. he grins. “then i’m already inside your head. rent-free.”
you roll your eyes but don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. the door swings open, and you step through. he stays leaning against the wall for a moment longer, gaze lingering like he’s waiting for something. only when you close the door do you hear him head to his own, whistling that same tune from the stairs, faint through the wood.
the doorknob had been loose for weeks—wobbling in your hand like a tooth ready to fall out. you’d been meaning to fix it, but meaning to do something isn’t the same as doing it. this morning, it’s suddenly solid again. the screws are tight, the turn smooth. you test it twice, then a third time, like you’re trying to catch it in the act of failing. when you open the door, haechan is just stepping out of his apartment. hoodie, ball cap, a paper bag swinging from his hand.
“you break into all your neighbors’ places,” you say, “or am i just special?” he doesn’t slow his pace. “if you’re asking if i fixed your doorknob, you’re welcome.” “i didn’t say thank you.” “you were about to,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with that quick, infuriating smile. later that afternoon, you walk back from the café down the street with two coffees in hand. you tell yourself you only bought the second because they got your order wrong and you don’t like caramel. you knock on his door. when he opens it, he looks suspicious. “i don’t drink caramel,” he says. “i know,” you reply, handing it over. “so this is…?” “a bribe,” you say. “for future illegal home repairs.” he takes it, still watching you. “i could get used to this.”
“don’t,” you tell him, turning to head back across the hall. but you hear the click of his tongue, and somehow you know he’s still smiling when you shut your door.
ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ
the storm hits without warning. rain hammers the windows like a drummer gone mad, and the building lights flicker once, twice, then die altogether. darkness fills your apartment, thick and heavy, smelling of wet concrete and ozone. you fumble for a flashlight and curse under your breath when it slips from your hand. that’s when you hear it—soft thumping from the hallway. hesitation. footsteps that are familiar, too familiar.
“you’re awake,” haechan says, voice low, carrying through the dark like it belongs there. “i could say the same,” you answer, gripping the flashlight like a weapon. he’s leaning against the wall outside your door, the hood of his sweatshirt half fallen back. his hair is damp, curling slightly at the edges, and for a second you catch yourself staring longer than necessary. “want to come upstairs?” he asks. the words are casual, but his eyes are something else entirely. “candles, a better view of the storm. you can keep your flashlight.” you hesitate, then follow him, letting the familiar banter ease the tension. on his couch, the room is small and warm, lit by the trembling glow of scattered candles. shadows dance across his face, making him look like someone you’ve only ever half-known in photographs and social media clips.
for a while, you don’t speak. the rain drums against the windows, and the air smells faintly of coffee he brewed hours ago, forgotten. then he hums a low tune, one you recognize from the stairs the night the elevator broke.
“you hum inappropriately loud when you think no one hears,” you say. “i hum inappropriately loud when someone does hear,” he replies, leaning closer. the shadow of his smile stretches across the candlelight. “it’s… more fun that way.” you try to turn your attention back to the window, to the storm, to anything that isn’t him, but the words stick in your chest. the warmth of the room, the closeness, the teasing edge in his voice—it all presses against your nerves like static.
“why are you like this?” you ask quietly, not really expecting an answer. “like what?” “like… everything. annoying, impossible, way too charming.” his eyes soften, then glint with mischief. “maybe i just like you noticing.”
the pause lingers, heavier than the storm outside. and for the first time, you realize the elevator, the stolen parking spots, the petty arguments—they were all just prelude.
ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ
the elevator is still broken. again. you curse under your breath as you push open the stairwell door, half-expecting him to be there. he is. of course he is.
“late again,” he says, smirking, as if punctuality is a personal affront. “you could say the same,” you snap, stepping past him. “i could,” he replies, stepping closer. the space between you narrows, the walls echoing with the hollow rhythm of your steps. “but i like to keep things interesting.” you spin on your heel, toe catching the edge of the step. he catches your arm—lightly, but enough to make your pulse skip. “careful,” he teases, voice low. “wouldn’t want you to fall before we reach the top.” “i don’t need saving,” you say, tugging your arm free, though your hands are shaking just a little. “you might,” he murmurs, leaning closer. the air between you tightens. you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint tang of his cologne, something sharp that makes your chest flutter. the argument dissolves into something smaller, softer, more dangerous. words falter. you both stop mid-step, too aware of the other’s proximity. “you know,” he whispers, almost a question, “we could just… skip the rest of the stairs.”
you bite your lip, trying to focus on the concrete beneath your feet, but it’s impossible. his hand hovers near yours, not touching, and your stomach knots in a way that’s equal parts annoyance and want.
for a moment, you both stand there, suspended between irritation and something unspoken. the air thrums with it, and you can’t tell if it’s the storm outside or him that’s making your heart race.
then the stairwell door swings open above, and someone else’s footsteps echo down. he steps back, just enough to break the tension, grin teasing and infuriating. “later,” he says, and his voice leaves a trail down the empty steps, warm and promising.
you watch him go, and when your hand finally lowers from where it had been hovering, you realize—somewhere in the middle of all the fights, all the teasing, something has shifted.
you knock on his door because you have to. you tell yourself it’s only to complain—loud music again, the bass rattling the walls like it’s trying to break something in you—but the moment he opens the door, the air between you feels heavier, electric.
“you again,” he says, voice low, one eyebrow quirking. his hoodie is half on, hair mussed, eyes sharper than the hallway light lets on. “i came to ask you to turn it down,” you snap, though your chest hitches when he smirks. “you could’ve just texted,” he replies, leaning in just enough that you smell the faint tang of coffee and something sharper, like citrus. “i wanted to see if you’d actually listen,” you fire back, stepping inside. he doesn’t move, doesn’t close the door, just tilts his head, letting the silence grow heavy between you. you can feel the weight of him, the warmth radiating off his body. “why are you like this?” you whisper, half exasperated, half unsure if you’re asking him or yourself. “like what?” he murmurs, taking a step closer, the corner of his mouth twitching in that impossible, teasing way. “like… impossible. always… everywhere. annoying,” you falter, voice trembling without meaning to, “and somehow—” “somehow what?” “somehow i can’t stop noticing,” you admit, your heart thudding too loudly.
he smirks, but it’s gone softer, too. he closes the gap, hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “maybe you just needed an excuse to see me,” he says, low and deliberate. your rebuttal dies on your lips when he leans in, pressing against you just enough that your knees threaten to buckle. the first kiss is messy, urgent, a collision of weeks—months—of pent-up tension. hands grab, tug, explore. he’s warm and insistent, teasing between kisses.
“so all this time, you hated how much you wanted me?” you grab him harder, matching him, words lost to gasps and murmurs. clothes tangle, and the floor beneath your feet disappears, leaving only the heat and friction of skin, teeth, lips, and whispered curses.
when you finally pull back, breathless, your forehead resting against his, both of you are laughing quietly, incredulous.
“you’re impossible,” you manage. “so are you,” he says, grinning like it’s the only truth that matters, “and yet here you are.”
before you can slap his shoulder out of annoyance, his lips crash into yours again, hungry and insistent. you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as he backs you against the doorframe. his hands slide down your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. you arch into him, relishing the friction. months of tension unraveled with each touch, each breathless moment.
"took you long enough," he murmurs against your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. you tug at his hair, drawing a low groan from him. "you're one to talk. all those times you 'accidentally' bumped into me in the hallway."
he chuckles, the sound vibrating through you. "just trying to get your attention."
"by being insufferable?" your breath catches as he pushes you through the doorway. you both stumble into his apartment, knocking into the coffee table - him catching your fall by your waist. candles from the earlier power outage still glowed faintly, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
your shirt catches on the edge of the couch as he tugs it over your head. haechan's fingers tangle in your hair, tugging gently as he deepens another kiss between you two. he sits up from above you on the couch as you nudge the bottom of the fabric on his shirt - he gets the hint, freeing the clothe from his torso.
as he returns his attention back to you, cupping your breast with one hand he murmurs against your neck, voice low and teasing, "still want me to turn the music down?”
your jaw tremors open as his teeth graze your pulse. "shut up," you growl and embarrassingly half-moan, raking your nails down his back.
he lets out a throaty chuckle. "make me.” you nip at his lower lip in response, drawing a sharp inhale from him while you palm the growing bulge from his sweatpants. "bossy," he breathed, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. his hand slides lower, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. he props himself up on one elbow, middle two fingers in motion over the fabric of your panties. your hips arch into the sensation and you whine, pleasure blooming through your body as he stroked and circled. you moved your hand from over his sweats to grab the edge of the couch as he found your clit.
“not fair,” you gasp, nails digging into the couch, hips pressing into him without meaning to.
“fair isn’t interesting,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw, warm breath sending shivers down your spine. his fingers curl expertly, circling, dipping, coaxing every reaction from you.
you tilt your head back, letting out a shuddering moan, “hyuck… stop teasing.”
“i’m not teasing,” he whispers against your ear, voice low, almost a growl. “i’m making you feel… exactly what you’ve been wanting.” your hands clench at the cushions, hips rolling involuntarily into his touch. every stroke, every circle sends sparks up your spine, down your legs, until it feels like fire pooling between you.
and then he stops.
your body jerks, surprised, and his lips brush against your cheek—soft, teasing, impossibly close. “what are you—?” you gasp, voice trembling. he smirks, low and dangerous. “i’m apologizing,” he murmurs, moving down the couch with deliberate slowness, heat radiating from every step, “for my poor neighborly conduct.”
before you can react, his hands grab the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down with swift precision. your legs part as he positions himself between them, eyes dark with intent.
“you’re fucking unreal,” he growls, voice low, “driving me insane.” you whimper, hips shifting instinctively, trying not to—but it’s useless. he leans in, lips brushing the sensitive skin at the apex of your thighs. one teasing lick, and your back arches. his hands grip your hips, steadying you as his tongue slides against you, exploring, tasting, coaxing every whimper and moan from your lips.
you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as he alternates slow, deliberate flicks of his tongue with firmer, deeper strokes, hitting every sensitive patch with precision. he hums low and possessive, sending shocks of pleasure straight through your spine. “look at you,” he mutters, voice sharp and commanding, “losing it for me already. fucking perfect.”
every word, every movement drives you higher, your hips rocking against him even though he’s holding you steady, teasing, testing, making sure you feel every inch of his tongue without mercy.
your nails rake through his hair, tugging lightly, testing how far you can push him. he whines—soft, breathy, impossibly needy—into your skin, letting out a sound that makes your pulse spike.
“you like that?” you murmur, fingers gripping tighter. “fuck… yeah,” he groans, voice rough, and the whine turns into a low hum of satisfaction. he leans closer, practically devouring you, teeth and tongue moving in tandem, hot and demanding. every flick, every press, every teasing nibble drives you higher, your hips instinctively pressing down, desperate for more. “god… hyuck—” you gasp, nails digging into him, pulling, tugging, needing.
he moans against you, almost obnoxiously loud, but it’s perfect, messy, exactly what you want. his hands grip your thighs, keeping you open and vulnerable, tongue darting with precision.
“you feel… so good,” he murmurs between licks, biting lightly, humming low. “i could do this forever.”
every sound he makes, every hungry flick of his tongue, makes your chest rise and fall faster. he’s utterly lost in you, fully in the moment—the messy, shameless, munch-like way he devours, completely unashamed.
your nails leave marks in his hair, your hips roll without control, and you can’t stop gasping, moaning, letting him take every bit of attention, because right now, you don’t want to.
your hips jerk uncontrollably, nails still tangled in his hair, breath catching in ragged gasps. every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, every sharp hum against your skin pushes you higher and higher.
“fuck—oh my god!” you cry following his name, voice breaking as pleasure crashes through you in waves. your body shudders, your legs trembling, hips rolling into him even as he holds you steady, relentless, perfect.
he groans low, a deep, satisfied sound, as you come undone beneath him, shaking, quivering, lost in the sensation.
your chest heaves, heat still pooling between your legs, and with one swift motion, you shrug off your bra. the cool air against your bare skin makes you shiver, and he notices immediately.
he shuffles closer, eyes dark and predatory, and without a word, he pulls at the waistband of his sweatpants, sliding them down in one swift motion. you bite your lip, heart hammering, watching him cock his head to the side, a low hum escaping him as he starts pumping himself slowly, teasingly.
you lay back against the couch, legs parting slightly, breath catching as your hands graze over your own skin. the sight of him—focused, needy, just for you—makes a shiver run down your spine.
“god… you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he groans, voice rough, gripping himself tighter for just a moment before leaning down.
without another pause, he lines himself up, sliding inside you in one smooth, deliberate thrust. your back arches instinctively, nails digging into the cushions as heat and pleasure bloom between your bodies.
you dig your nails into the cushions as he starts moving inside you, slow at first, just enough to make your hips roll against him. every thrust sends sparks straight through you, and your breath hitches in ragged gasps.
“you’re… so good,” you murmur, voice trembling, chest heaving. his hips stutter, a low whine escaping him. “say it again,” he whines, voice needy and desperate, eyes dark and fixed on yours. “g-good boy,” you breathe, teasing, and the way his lips curl into a feral, almost worshipful grin makes your stomach clench. “fuck… i love that,” he murmurs, almost whining as he grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him. “on your knees—no, come on.”
before you can protest, he shifts you onto all fours on the couch, pressing himself into you from behind. the sudden angle makes your breath hitch again, nails scraping the cushions as he starts thrusting harder, faster, chasing the way you squirm beneath him.
“you like that, baby?” he groans, voice thick, teeth catching your shoulder. “taking me in that tight, perfect pussy of yours?”
you arch against him, and he slaps your ass sharply, low and hard, making a gasp escape your lips. the sound only seems to fuel him further, and he leans closer, hips snapping into a steady, urgent rhythm.
every hit, every groan, every whiny, desperate sound he makes presses deeper into your senses, and your body trembles with a mix of heat and pleasure, riding every inch of him as he switches the rhythm, keeping you both on edge, messy and lost in each other.
you push back against him, taking the reins, sliding down onto him with a sharp, controlled motion. he groans low, hips stuttering as he watches you, face flushed and eyes dark with need.
hands grip his shoulders, then drift to his throat, fingers curling just enough to tease, to claim. “fuck… you’re crazy,” he groans, a whine escaping him, but there’s no resistance—only trust, lust, and obsession.
“like this?” you murmur, bouncing slightly, testing him, the pressure of your hands on his neck making him shiver beneath you. “yes… god, yes,” he pants, voice ragged, a mix of whine and groan, “don’t stop… don’t you ever stop.”
you ride him harder, your hips snapping in rhythm with his, teasing and pressing, every motion driving him wild. his hands grip your hips, guiding you, but his head tips back slightly at the subtle choke, mouth open, groans spilling out uncontrollably. “s-so tight,” he pants, voice thick and needy, “and you… you know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
every movement, every gasp, every sharp intake of breath fuels the fire between you, and the sound of him whining, desperate and obsessed beneath you, makes your own pleasure spike even higher.
you ride him harder, hips snapping, hands gripping his shoulders and throat with control. every movement, every gasp, every whine spilling from him fuels the fire burning between you.
your chest rises and falls, heat pooling, and suddenly it hits—the sharp, overwhelming wave of pleasure building deep in your core. you shiver, cry out his name, and come over him, trembling, body quaking as your orgasm crashes through you.
he groans low at the sound, voice thick and needy, but it’s sharp, urgent, almost desperate. “i’m gonna… i’m gonna come,” he pants, hips jerking, hands gripping your hips to steady himself.
you mutter something about your mouth in your high and he reluctantly slides out. you kneel in front of him on the floor as he rises up to sit, lips brushing the tip of his cock, and he whines immediately, high-pitched and desperate, hips twitching against your mouth. “fuck… yes—just like that—shit, yes,” he pants, voice breaking into that needy, whiny sound that makes your heart palpitate.
you take him in, slow at first, letting him adjust, teasing him with the way you suck and lick, fingers curling around the base. his hands thread through your hair, gripping gently, guiding you, voice cracking with every small gasp as your doe eyes remain on watching his every reaction.
“ah—fuck! right there, yes, oh god—” he groans, hips snapping, voice high and needy, whines mixing with grunts as his release spills into your mouth. you hold him through it, swallowing every pulse, teasing just enough to make him shiver, until he’s trembling, spent, and utterly obsessed with you.
you pull back, brushing a sticky strand of hair from your face, and he’s still catching his breath, chest rising and falling fast. his eyes flick to yours, sharp, amused, and dangerous in that way you know too well. his thumbs wipes the remainder of his orgasm past your lips, he’s dazed.
“you good?” you ask, voice low, teasing. he smirks, pressing closer, letting out a soft groan. “i’m alive… barely,” he mutters, voice high and whiny from just having been wrecked. “not that i’d ever admit it.” “you’re a mess,” you tease, thumb brushing along his cheek. “i could’ve stopped anytime.” “yeah? try me,” he shoots back, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “i don’t think you could.”
you laugh, shaking your head, letting him drape an arm around you as you search for your underwear on the living room floor. he leans back on the couch, eyes glinting, that familiar mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.
“looking for something?” he asks, voice low and teasing, tilting his head as he watches you fumble. you glance up, biting your lip, and he doesn’t miss the pause. “oh… wow,” he says, eyes flicking down, then back to your face, mock-serious. “you’re… completely drenched. did i do that?” you groan, cheeks heating, and scramble faster across the floor. “shut up,” you mutter, grabbing at your soaked panties.
“nope,” he cuts in immediately, grin widening. “absolutely not. this is too good. i mean, come on—you look like a disaster… a very wet, very perfect disaster.” his voice dips lower, teasing, almost growling, and the words make a shiver run down your spine. finally finding your underwear, you hold them up, and he leans closer, eyes glinting with mischief. “wow,” he murmurs, half-whining, “you really know how to make a mess. lucky for me, i get to watch.”
“you’re terrible,” you mutter, tugging the fabric back on, cheeks flushed. “and you love it,” he replies, smirk widening, eyes glittering with that playful, hungry light. “admit it.” you roll your eyes but can’t stop the quiet laugh escaping you. “maybe a little,” you concede.
he chuckles, low and satisfied, before leaning down to press a light kiss to your temple. “good. that’s all i need to know,” he murmurs, letting the teasing linger. then his grin twists sly. “by the way… don’t think i’ve forgotten about our feud. stealing your parking spot? not sorry.”
you snort, shaking your head. “you’re such an asshole.”
“maybe,” he says, tugging you closer so your shoulder rests against his chest. the apartment feels warm and intimate now, messy and sticky from earlier chaos, yet somehow calm. tangled together on the couch, playful and charged, the teasing settles into a quiet closeness that leaves both of you grinning and breathless.
ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ the next morning, sunlight cuts across the floor as you’re dragging yourself out of bed, still groggy, when you hear a rumble outside. peeking through the blinds, you spot haechan sliding his car out of the spot he’d stolen yesterday, finally giving you the space you were owed. you can’t help the small, satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips.
then something catches your eye: a sticky note, bright yellow, taped to your door. you pull it off and read, your breath hitching slightly:
"hey neighbor, come knock on my door and tell me to turn this music down… or don’t. i kind of want to hear you complain while i watch. —h"
from next door, the bass vibrates through the walls, low and teasing, and you roll your eyes with a laugh. of course he’d leave a note like this—provocative, cheeky, and entirely him, daring you to respond while making it impossible not to. you trace the words with a finger, already imagining the exchange when you go knock—knowing full well you’ll be grinning like an idiot the entire time.
˳ ౨౿ ⁺ ༄ ༝ end.
copywrite @yvesette 2024
roll with me
summary: you have a strange addiction and when you finally get caught, your punishment tastes sweeter than you anticipated... pairing: haechan x reader genre: smut, fluff, best friends to lovers warnings: borrowing/stealing, swearing, slapping, blowjob/mouth-fucking, hair-pulling, cum-eating, humiliation kink (implied), degradation+praise, fingering, size kink, lowkey mean dom!haechan, unprotected sex (pls don't), creampie (uh oh), pinching, confessions word count: 3.6k author's note: so i've read lots of fics where the ML steals panties or smth but i wanted to try something different and make reader the thief lmao, the fic is somewhat inspired by haechan's iconic song roll with me and the abundance of teddy bear pyjamas i saw when shopping recently; keep an eye out for the usual song references
You know what you've been doing for the past couple of months is deeply questionable and borderline creepy. But you really can't help yourself. It's like whenever the opportunity arises, some demon possesses you to do this crazy, unacceptable thing.
The insane act in question is that you've been stealing your best friend's pyjamas obsessively. Whenever he invites you to have a sleepover at his place, you always forget to bring your own pyjamas. So, Haechan, being the kind host he is, always lets you borrow his. And like, in your defense, he has so many of them. Teddy bear pyjamas, Kuromi pyjamas, candy cane pyjamas, pink ribbons pyjamas…His pyjama collection is truly astonishing. You always promise you'll wash them and return them later, but whenever morning comes, you've sneaked out of his place before he could wake up or even make breakfast.
You never return his pyjamas…And Haechan never asks for them back. You don't know why you're doing this. Scratch that, you do. Because his pyjamas always smell like him. The truth of the matter is…you might have a bit of a crush on your best friend. But you can't possibly tell him. Because that would be the end of it all. There is no way in hell your feelings are reciprocated. So you've decided not to say anything at all.
But fate, or to be more specific, Haechan seems to have other plans.
"What do you mean you need a place to crash?" you ask the brown-haired boy standing at your doorstep.
"They've been spraying against cockroaches at my apartment," Haechan explains calmly. "It smells like shit. I literally can't breathe there anymore, let alone sleep."
"So you thought of me?" you blink in shock.
"Duh. Who else would let me in?" Haechan shrugs and sneaks inside of your apartment before you could protest.
"But…my place is so cramped," you look around, suddenly feeling nervous. Haechan never comes to your place, in the early days of your friendship he would complain that it's too small and he would rather you two hang out at his. And who were you to argue? But now…you just have to make sure he doesn't find HIS own pyjamas that you've been stealing and keeping in YOUR wardrobe. Like the crazy person you are.
"Eh, it'll be fine for just one night."
He looks around the living roomcuriously, eyeing the tiny couch with distaste. There is no way in hell he'll fit in there.
"I can take the bed, right?" Haechan doesn't even wait for an answer and heads towards your bedroom. You are completely stunned by his lack of decorum. Sure, you're the thief in this friendship, but…inviting himself like this and expecting to use your bed is just too much…
"Erm," you follow him awkwardly to your bedroom, trying to keep your composure.
"Ooh, cozy," Haechan flops himself onto your bed, immediately grabbing one of your teddy bears to hug. "Why don't we spend more time at yours?"
What. The. Fuck?!
"You literally always say my place is too small," you remind him. "That's why you generally insist on having sleepovers at yours."
"Hmm, I wouldn't say your apartment is that small," Haechan replies with an easy grin. "After all, it's big enough for your collection."
You freeze. No way he's figured it out. He hasn't mentioned it so far. Why now?
"What collection?" you ask dumbly and perhaps somewhat guiltily.
"Your book collection," Haechan smirks. "If there's enough space for all these books, then surely there's enough space for me, as well."
Hah. Little does he know how much of him you're keeping in your wardrobe metres away from him.
"Uh, sure, yes," you mumble. Never before have you been so monosyllabic in your conversations with Haechan. He's always made you feel comfortable enough to rant about anything and everything. But you feel so consumed with thoughts about your criminal behaviour and the idea of getting caught that whatever you say feels awkward and wrong.
"Aren't you gonna offer me pyjamas to sleep in?" he blinks innocently. "I always have a spare for you."
Come on. He's acting like he knows. You wonder if Haechan is tormenting you on purpose or if this is his usual way of interacting. Might as well come clean already and put an end to your suffering. But admitting it out loud would feel so shameful…So, you stubbornly keep the act up.
"I don't think there's anything in here that would fit you."
This is the dumbest thing you could have said. Because you tend to wear oversized pyjamas and if anything, it's Haechan's that are a bit tight for you…
"Oh, really?" Haechan raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "Mind if I check?"
You gulp nervously, no longer finding a way out of this situation.
If you tell him you don't want him going through your wardrobe, you will have to think of a logical explanation for your refusal. If you let him do it…it's basically equal to admitting culpability.
You nod half-heartedly, feeling the colour drain from your cheeks. The tension is going to kill you, as Haechan walks towards your wardrobe. You feel like you will pass out any second now. You need to think of something. But your brain is refusing to cooperate. It's too late. What if you go to prison for this? Or worse…What if Haechan never speaks to you again?
With your peripheral vision, you see Haechan opening the wardrobe and finding the dreaded pyjamas.
"I've been looking for these forever!" he gasps in mock surprise. But his tone is suggesting that he already knew. Fuck.
"I'm sorry…I was intending to return them," you try to talk your way out of this.
"When?" he questions you, tilting his head to the side.
"Um…eventually?"
Haechan sniffs the pair of pyjamas you stole most recently.
"Funny. They still smell like my perfume. Looks like you haven't even washed them."
"I know how this looks…" you mumble and somehow you've ended up on your knees, as if pleading for his mercy.
"Explain it, then. If you can," Haechan stares at you mockingly as if he's already won a game you weren't aware you've been playing.
"I just…forgot to return them?" you try.
"Is that so? Surely, you open your wardrobe every day. And we see each other often enough for you to remember. Try harder," he sits on your bed once again, legs spread like he owns the place. Perhaps he does. In more ways than one.
"Uh…they just smell really nice."
"Is it my perfume you're addicted to?" Haechan continues teasing you. "I could have told you the brand, you just had to ask."
"It's not the perfume, to be exact. They…smell like you," you confess, feeling more mortified than when he opened the wardrobe moments ago.
"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," he nods in approval. "You like my pyjamas. You like my smell. What's next? You're gonna say you like me?"
The way Haechan blurts it out so casually makes your blood run cold. You look up guiltily. If he hasn't figured it out already, then the truth is evident enough in your moist eyes.
"I thought it was obvious…" you murmur.
"There's nothing obvious about you," Haechan shakes his head. "Imma need you to spell it out for me."
"Why? What difference does it make?" you cry out. "If you're just trying to humiliate me…"
"Now, why would I want that? Unless it's something you're into…"
What the hell?!
"Say it," he urges you. "Tell me you like me."
"I like you," you finally cave. "I like you so much I resort to insane acts like stealing your pyjamas whenever you let me borrow them. I like you so much I'm obsessed with the way you smell. I like you so much I think of you whenever I see teddy bears or Kuromi or even the stupid Sun. I like you so fucking much it terrifies me. Are you happy now, Haechan?"
"Ecstatic," he admits and leans down, capturing your lips in a rough but nevertheless comforting kiss. You can hardly believe what's happening but you would be a fool not to kiss him back just as eagerly, as if to convey all the emotions you've been keeping bottled up for so long. And damnit, it feels good. Better than you've ever imagined. Haechan's lips are soft and taste like honey, but his kiss is merciless, fucking your tongue as if he's angry at you for lying, for stealing, for liking him. And you know you deserve his anger. But what you don't think you deserve is how delicious this is…
Haechan breaks the kiss and caresses your cheek softly. You're already kneeling for some reason so what he has in mind would be easier to achieve than he initially intended.
"Open your mouth," he commands you easily and you do so without thinking.
Seconds later he's pulling his cock out of his dark jeans and you're stunned by how quickly everything is progressing. Minutes ago, you were worried about how he'd react when he found out your dirty little secret and now you're engaging in activities you never thought possible with him. Whether your feelings are requited or not or he's just intent on playing with you, you genuinely can't tell. But you can't find it in yourself to deny him the pleasure you so desperately want to give him. So, you obediently wrap your lips around his length, trying your best to suck and lick and do everything that might stimulate him.
Haechan pulls your hair tightly and fucks your mouth with a savage pace, further intensifying the wave of anger you think he feels towards you. It's so humiliating and satisfying at once.
"That's right, take it like the stupid whore you are," he whispers meanly and you can't help but moan at the intrusion.
Tears clouding your vision, throat already sore, you grip the back of his legs for dear life, wanting to be good for him, wanting to make up for everything. Even if you're not sure you're doing that much of a good job, Haechan seems enthusiastic enough to send spurts of cum down your throat. You nearly choke but you keep swallowing until he finally lets go of your head and looks at you with a mixture of amazement and…pity? You can't tell. He's so difficult to read in this moment.
"Get up," he orders you and you follow, even though your brain already feels foggy and your legs are threatening to give out from kneeling for so long. "Lie down."
You stare at your own bed as if it's the strangest, most terrifying object you've ever seen. Hesitantly, you climb on the bed, obeying Haechan's instructions.
He leans closer and without warning, slides his hand inside your shorts, taking your pussy with his fingers like it's rightfully his. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it has been for a long time now…
"Relax for me, don't tense up," Haechan mumbles in your ear. You do your best to let go and just enjoy the feeling. But overthinking gets the worst of you and your start panicking a little. It should feel so good and yet…you're so stiff that the sensation of his fingers entering you becomes somewhat uncomfortable.
"I c-can't," you try to remove his hand with your own.
"Don't you like me?" Haechan pouts with the cutest pleading eyes ever.
"I do, I do like you," you repeat. "But it's so weird, I can't."
"Just don't think about it, hm? I'll take care of you, yeah?" he promises.
You shake your head furiously.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Why do you think?" Haechan sighs as it's as plain as a pikestaff.
"To…punish me for stealing your pyjamas?"
"Punish you?" he laughs. He has the audacity to laugh. You're losing your mind here and he's laughing?! "Fuck, you're really more clueless than I thought."
You don't know what that means, but his words are powerful enough to distract you and soon you've realized you're starting to relax, his ministrations making you feel euphoric and wetter. He relentlessly fucks your pussy with his ridiculously long fingers and the sight of his veiny hand inside you is enough to send you over the edge.
"There you go, sweetheart, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Haechan coos in your ear, as if you're a petulant child who's been stubbornly trying to escape being disciplined.
"N-no," you admit reluctantly, gasping in disbelief at the situation you've found yourself in.
He slaps your cheek gently without putting any force behind the action.
"Good girl," he says and those two little words are enough to send goosebumps running down your skin.
You blink furiously to stop yourself from bursting into tears when Haechan mutters something that shocks you even further.
"I want to fuck you while you're wearing my pyjamas."
"You want to what?" you yelp.
"Don't make me repeat myself," his unforgiving tone suggests he won't take 'no' for an answer and you decide it would be wise not to argue. After all, you are the one in the wrong here. Whatever your best friend wants, he should get. Right? "I'll be nice and let you pick a pair. You've taken how many exactly? Three? Four?"
"Four," you clarify, stupidly confessing your crime once again.
"Four," he repeats with a humming sound. "So, which one is your favourite pair? The Kuromi one?"
"The teddy bear pyjamas," you admit, feeling even more ashamed. Because you've always associated him with bears. And you've told him so on multiple occasions.
Haechan chuckles knowingly.
"Of course it is," he gets up from the bed and picks it up from your wardrobe. "What are you waiting for? Strip."
You are pretty sure your soul has already left your body but your hands seem to have a mind of their own and start removing your shorts and T-shirt slowly. You're left in nothing but your already soaked panties since you generally don't wear a bra at home. You look at Haechan, feeling more nervous than before.
"Put it on," he instructs you yet again and you hurriedly slide into his teddy bear pyjamas.
This is insane. You are surely dreaming.
"Cute," he breathes out. "Too bad I'm gonna have to ruin them."
"Do you really have to?" you ask.
Not that you don't want this. You do. More badly than anything you've ever longed for. But you're still unsure whether Haechan actually wants to fuck you or rather…fuck with you.
"I don't have to," he explains patiently. "But how else am I supposed to teach you a lesson, hm? If I don't, you'll just keep stealing until I have no pyjamas left."
"I won't, I promise," you sniffle helplessly.
"See, I don't trust you. And if you want to gain my trust back, you're gonna have to listen and do as I say, 'kay?"
You nod desperately. Losing Haechan's trust would be far more terrifying than the ridiculous idea of going to prison.
"That's what I thought," he scoffs and kisses you once more. If you thought your first kiss was savage in its intensity, then you've obviously underestimated Haechan's ability to make you go absolutely crazy for him. He's biting your lips hard enough to draw blood, pulling your hair back. Then, he moves on to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin there until hickeys form. "Fucking hell, you look so adorable like this. Wearing my pyjamas."
"I'm sorry," you moan, even though you're not sure what you're apologizing for.
"Don't be. Why do you think I never called you out earlier? Did you seriously think I didn't notice?"
Wait, what?!
"I wanted to see how far you'd go. I wanted to check if you'd come clean by yourself or if I'd have to fuck it out of you," Haechan whispers wickedly.
You're still not following, but you decide not to ask any further questions and just enjoy…whatever this is. While it lasts.
He pulls the pyjama pants slightly down your body and pushes your flimsy panties to the side, easily teasing your folds with the tip of his thick cock. He hasn't even entered you fully yet and you're already on the verge of passing out. You like him so fucking much it would be pathetic if you weren't so damn happy about it.
Haechan pumps his cock a couple of times, continuing to torment you oh so sweetly. Then, he lifts your legs up so that he has easier access and slides inside of you.
"Fuck," you have no choice but to gasp at the sudden stretch.
"Shhh, you can take me," he caresses your hair gently, but his movements are so violently erratic that the contrast between his sweet words and cruel actions gives you a whiplash.
"You're so b-big," you moan and thrash under him.
"I know, sweetheart," Haechan purrs condescendingly. "But you need to be taught a lesson. You need this."
"I do, I need you," you repeat dumbly like a mantra. Because it's true. You've needed him for as long as you can remember. And now that he's finally here, skin to skin, connecting with you, you can't bear the thought of ever letting go.
"Are you close?" he asks as he caresses your clit with his thumb, while still fucking into you with his cock. The sensation is so overwhelming it is a true wonder your eyes are still open.
"Yeah," you admit.
"Me too. Tell me where to cum," Haechan pleads.
Wait, what? It only now hits you that you're not using any protection. Everything happened so quickly, so unexpectedly (for you) that you are completely unprepared for the safety aspect.
"I d-don't know," you are so fucked out that your brain refuses to come up with a logical solution.
"If you don't tell me, I'll just do it inside of you," he threatens.
Huh. Suddenly, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea. Perhaps you'll regret it later. But in this moment, you couldn't care less.
"3…2…1," Haechan counts down and you find yourself filled with his warm seed. Fuck. You feel your orgasm hitting you stronger than ever and you shake underneath him. You wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to be close. It's so cozy and comfortable.
Alas, he slides out and watches in amazement as his cum starts dripping out of you.
"So pretty like this," Haechan marvels in awe. "So filthy and messy."
"Nngh," you can't be bothered with full sentences.
"Should I fuck you again until you lose consciousness?" he wonders out loud.
You are awake enough to freeze at the warning. Weakly, you shake your head, but you know it's not really up to you. If he wanted to, Haechan could do anything and you would gladly accept it.
"I won't. Another time, maybe," he vows mysteriously.
"Another time?" you ask hopefully. "You want…to do this again?"
"I mean, ideally we would have gone out on a date first, but…of course, I want to do this again, baby."
Baby? Hold up, rewind a minute. Did you miss a chapter?
"You're not angry? You don't want to end our friendship?"
"Angry? No," Haechan groans as if he find the mere idea repulsive. "And if by ending the friendship you mean starting to date, then, yeah, that's exactly what I want."
"Am I dreaming?" you need to know.
Haechan pinches your cheeks hard enough to make it hurt.
"Ouch," you complain loudly.
"Yeah, you're definitely not dreaming," he reassures you.
"So…you like me, too?" you just want to hear him say it. At least once.
"I like you. I like you so much I resort to insane acts like letting you borrow my pyjamas and being happy when you steal them. I like you so much I'm obsessed with the sight of you wearing my stuff. I like you so much I think of you whenever I see strawberries or ribbons or sunflowers. I like you so fucking much it terrifies me. Because losing you is my worst nightmare. Are you happy now, Y/N?" Haechan confesses, reitarating your words from earlier but from his own perspective.
The unexpected reality is so much sweeter than your wildest dreams.
"Never been happier," you grin widely and kiss him again. Your third kiss is softer, more languid than the first and infinitely less savage than your second. But honestly? You enjoy all three of them. In different ways.
"Next time you feel like stealing my pyjamas, just say so. I'll have to buy more pairs, spray them with my perfume and give them to you," Haechan promises sweetly.
"Your perfume isn't enough," you sigh. "They need to smell like you."
"Oh, you're such a freak," he nudges your shoulder playfully.
"But I'm your freak," you stick your tongue out at him.
"That you are," Haechan agrees, rolling with you in bed, capturing you in the tightest, warmest hug ever.
"You're my everything, Haechan. Never forget that," you insist.
"I won't," he smiles softly, kissing your forehead. "Just stop stealing from me."
"Noted," you chuckle.
"Or even better. We'll get matching pyjamas and just share them! What's mine is yours and vice versa."
"You're obsessed with pyjamas, aren't you?" you shake your head.
"Said the pyjama thief," Haechan flicks your nose.
"You'll never let me live it down, will you?"
"Nope. You're stuck with the victim of your crimes forever."
"So dramatic," you roll your eyes.
"You love it," Haechan reminds you.
And you can't argue because he's right. A little bit crazy and sometimes mean. But still your favourite sunshine, your teddy bear. And always, perfectly right for you.
The End
[ req? yes / no ]
𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ─── meeting your fav in person or haechan meeting you in person
( 対 ) lee haechan + fem. reader wc. 0.6k genre smut· contains! idol!haechan , unprotected sex , language mature content. / back to library
𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ based on this video they sent
haechan wasn’t surprised by how hot his fans are; he’s seen his fair share of pretty fans in the almost decade he’s been a idol — however he’s never been gobsmacked by how beautiful a fan was until he saw you.
he only caught a glimpse of you during the show and it was like time stopped , how could someone so beautiful like him? you smiled and his heart fluttered. he had to go around asking if any of the other boys saw you , when they didn’t , he swore he was seeing things.
it was until send off he saw you again , you stood there along with many other fans , a photocard of him right on your hips , a mini skirt sitting right on your thighs , a deep cut shirt that exposed your chest , a H in pink rhinestones right on your collarbone; he was enamored by your look , even after being in the heat , you still looked good — he had to talk to you.
he made his way over to you , touching the hands of the other fans in his way , stopping right in front of you. “hi.” you stared up at him in shock. “oh my- hi!” he smiled , holding his hand out , your friends squealing beside you. “for me?” he pointed at the letter on your collarbone. “yes! yes it is.” you said , excited to meet the boy you never shut up about , the man looked just as excited to meet you. “am i your favorite?”
“of course i love you.” the staff came over to usher him on to the next ; he really didn’t want to go. “bye.” he gave you one more glance , finally letting your hand go , leaving you squealing with your friends. “girl he was checking you out.” he smirked because he was . “no he wasn’t , he was just doing his job.” no , no he wasn’t , if anything he was thinking about taking you back to his hotel and fucking you until those damn rhinestones fell off — not before he got a picture though.
and that’s exactly what he did , it wasn’t easy but he managed to slip his phone number into your hand after he returned back to take a picture with a girl standing next to you. you weren’t even gonna text him , but after you returned back to your hotel you just said fuck it and sent him a text — which led you to this very moment , you in the hotel room of the man you’ve said some crazy things about , his cock stuffed deep inside you. your hair was a mess , the letter H now just a few pink rhinestones. “fu-fuck you’re so tight.”
“so fucking wet , you got this wet for me.” he grabbed your face , you were looking him in the eyes . “fu-fuck baby i’m flattered.” he smirked down at you. “haechan.” you moaned. “that’s it -shshit- say my fucking name.” he grunted above you. “say it.”
“haechan , please fuck me!” you screamed his thick cock dragging along your walls , your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he plowed into you. “so fu-fucked out by my cock.” he cursed. “bet you thought about this , me bringing you back and fucking you stupid?” you nodded. “fuck haechan you’re so big.” pressing his thumb against your clit , rubbing circles , making you squeal , you were sure the entire floor heard you. “you gonna cum for me? make a mess all over my bed?”
“fuck i’m gonna cum!” you screamed , legs shaking as you came. “haechan!” he kept moving. “good girl , making a mess all over me -shit- fuck i’m gonna cum.” he choked out. “fuck.” he hissed pulling out , right before he came , his sticky cum coating your skin. grabbing both your wrist , pinning them to the bed , sliding back in. “i’m not done with you.”
“gonna give you everything you dreamed of.”
©️LUVYENI
Can you do more Haechan links please? 🙏🏻🥺 (he’s my bias I love him so much) maybe more links and longer? if not that’s okay
omg so many haechan requests there’s like 1 more 😭 here’s a longer version? i’ll try to upload with longer clips when i find them some are short and some are also long.
i’ll remember for future use as well
1. he was NOT playing with you tonight
2. you bothering him while he was on the game with the dreamies so…he fucked you at his desk where they could hear you
3. haechan way of saying “come home” while you were at a halloween party
4. he said sit down so you did
5. fuck condoms (please use protection yall 😭)
6. lil backseat fuckin
7. this is dangerous don’t do this
8. once you go black…you never go back
9. cute lil makeout session
10. Haechan coded pt2 pt3
11. best head game fr
12. fucking haechan be like
nerd!hyuck who wasn’t only your boyfriend, but also your tutor.
he knows that his poor bimbo of a girlfriend struggled when it came to finals. and as the good boyfriend that he is — he makes sure to help you with it. but just studying didn’t do you any good, always ending up with you pouting and begging to bounce on his cock instead.
so, he turns it into an incentive. he holds you down on his lap, a worksheet right in front of you, your hands held to your back to make sure you don’t run. “what’s the answer, princess?” and when you can’t, a rough smack lands on your cunt, hyuck clicking his tongue. he slaps your cunt once again upon not receiving an answer, middle finger collecting the arousal on your folds, and he teases your hole, not fully dipping his finger in.
“you’re not getting this finger in your cunt until you answer, princess.”
hey bby can u please do some kind of smut with hyuck being a hard, mean dom? with a lot of overstim, spanking and choking pleeeeeaseeee🙏🏻
((and congrats on ur 2k followers!!
breaking, then broken.
warnings: mean dom haechan, angry haechan, could be read as dubcon because reader does briefly try to stop the scene but she is absolutely on board, angry punishments, spanking, choking, overstim, unprotected rough sex, mild breath play (do NOT attempt this irl), pain play, sadist haechan, heavy degradation, mentioned anal. mention of the other members. haechan is described as having trained you to orgasm harder when he’s mean. you’re described as not being fully aware of that fact. read at your own risk.
words: 2.7k
—
“Strip.”
It’s a familiar command by now, as natural from his mouth as any other and just as easy to follow. And you would follow it; you’d do it perfectly and immediately and without complaint, if you could.
But you’re in the dorm.
But the others are home.
But the door’s still open.
Any of the others could walk by and see you, pulling off your clothes while your boyfriend stares daggers into your skin. “Haecha—”
Right as you start to speak he kicks back, slamming the door shut behind him—sealing you in. The sound—sudden, deafening, warning—makes you jump and he huffs out a humourless laugh. “There,” he says. “It’s closed. Now strip.”
Your clothes come off as slowly as you think you can get away with; he watches wordlessly, eyes narrowed like every inch of skin as you reveal it is offending him to the core. When you’re down to your underwear and your discarded clothes are placed down on the bed, he raises an eyebrow as though you’re pushing your luck.
“Panties too,” he says. “Come on, whore. Don’t act like you have class now. Not with me.”
You huff, a little petulant, and he raises an eyebrow. “You huffing at me?”
“No,” you say quickly. “I’m sorry.”
He says nothing, better than lunging at you you suppose; just watches silently as you pull your panties down and put them on top of the pile just as directed. He nods tightly, jaw clenched.
“Good,” he says finally. “There’s that obedience you forgot about today.”
He’s not wrong, honestly—you were, as you’re painfully aware, a complete brat today. A bitch, even. And you’re not naive enough to think he doesn’t know you did it on purpose.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not,” he scoffs. “But you will be.”
God you’re wet. You try to keep your face straight, as emotionless as his as he takes a step towards you. Closing in.
“I thought I was training you well,” he says. “Thought I was raising a pretty little whore who does as she’s told, but no. Apparently I was raising a nasty, disobedient little slut. Apparently I’m not nearly as good at this as I thought I was.”
“Haechan,” you pout. “I didn’t mean to make you think that—”
“Shut up,” he sneers. Another step; slow, small, like he’s stalking prey. You step back instinctively, a feeble attempt to keep the distance, until you find yourself backed up against the bed, wooden frame pressed against your bare legs and Haechan inches away. Caged in. Trapped. Beyond helpless. He scoffs. “You’ve pissed me off. I don’t wanna talk to you, bitch. Lie down and spread your legs.”
You frown. “Haechan, we should really—”
You don’t even get to finish the sentence. Don’t even get to fully decide what the ending of the sentence was going to be—don’t get to make another sound before it happens.
Haechan snaps. Suddenly, violently, like a string pulled in two different directions finally coming apart. Like porcelain breaking under the pressure.
His demeanour shifts, eyes narrowing, and suddenly it’s not your boyfriend in front of you—loving, careful and yes, strict and cruel when he feels the need for it—but something else. Someone else.
This is your owner. Your master. Any small semblance of power or control you held over the situation is gone.
“You wanna act like a child?” He breathes. “Fine. I’ll deal with you like one. Like a bratty, bitchy little girl who needs to learn her lesson. Come here.”
Haechan is rarely the sort of person to make requests—commands are more his habit, especially with you, who looks oh-so pretty obeying them. But when he’s like this—angry, provoked, vengeful—even that would be a mercy. To even be given the opportunity to disobey is a mercy with him; and clearly not one you’re getting now.
He doesn’t wait for you to obey. Instead he grabs your wrist, his grip firm and unyielding as he tugs you back towards the bed. You know exactly what’s about to happen even before he gets you in position; before he takes his seat on the edge and throws you over his lap, ass in the air and face pressed into the comforter.
This isn’t the first time this has happened; far from it—from the start of your relationship Haechan had made it clear he has no qualms about setting you straight; about correcting and disciplining you when he thinks you need it. He enjoys it, in fact.
It is, however, the first time this has happened when he’s been this angry. The usual cool control he holds over you in times like this—the disappointment, the scolding, the gentle hands guiding you into position and holding you in place—it’s all gone now, buried beneath all the rage he’d been trying so hard to keep inside until you were alone.
He doesn’t ask if you’re comfortable, if you’re ready, if you know why you’re being punished. Just uses one hand to keep your head pressed firmly into the bed, while the other—
“Fucking. Little. Bitch.” The words are snapped, sneered, spat out between sharp, heavy smacks against your bare skin. He doesn’t ease you into it, doesn’t start slow; just lets the hits come down like rainfall, over and over, piled on top of each other until you’re hot to the touch.
It happens so quickly, in fact, that you don’t even have time to protest; don’t register the pain until it’s built up so much, all across your ass and down the backs of your thighs, that you couldn’t kick or squirm if you tried—can’t do anything but lie there and take it.
“I shouldn’t have to do this to you,” he says; the assault doesn’t stop even as he speaks. “But if you’re going to disobey me in front of my friends—my members—then I’ll be damned if you don’t see some consequences for it. Can’t act like an adult, you can get spanked like a little girl. Take it, cunt.”
It can’t have been more than a couple of minutes, really, but the sheer force and volume of his hits have made your body tense and stiffen and ache like you’ve been here for hours—never mind the burning, blazing skin where he’s actually hurting you. You were squealing, at some point, then screaming; now all you’re doing is sobbing, breaths sharp and painful as he carries on. Your safeword dances on your tongue—it would be so easy after all; just one word and this would all be over—but you don’t use it. You were never really going to.
You deserve this, you know it—in some small way, you might have even wanted it.
And even if you weren’t craving punishment, in particular, to be used as a vessel for Haechan’s anger, to drape yourself (or be draped, like today) over his lap, ripe for the taking, and accept his discipline like the good little girl he’s made of you, is a thrill you could never find anywhere else.
Kind, sweet Haechan, your Haechan, holding you down and spanking you raw while all you can do is scream.
Nothing else could make you simultaneously feel so helpless and so, so precious. So cherished.
Because Haechan is doing this to you. And once he’s done, when your ass is as red and swollen and glowing as he wants it and his anger is fully spent—Haechan will put you back together again.
He always does.
By the time he finishes, yanking you off his lap by the hair and depositing you on your knees on the floor, you’re so pained and so far gone that you don’t even register that the blows have stopped. Not until he pulls you back up, scalp stinging, to force your face into his crotch, does your mind fully catch up.
“That what you wanted?” He asks. “My big dick in your little bitch face? Enjoy it, whore. You won’t for long.”
You breathe it in; deep, gasping breaths until he pulls you off and back up onto the bed. He stands up and manoeuvres you onto all fours, ass swollen and sensitive in the air. He rubs it almost soothingly for a moment before spreading your legs and slapping you square over your wet, swollen pussy.
You scream into the comforter. He plunges two fingers in while you’re still distracted by the pain.
“Wet dog,” he sneers. “You like when I hurt you, don’t you? You like getting disciplined. Maybe next time I’ll let the others help. Shit, you’d probably come before you get your first spank.”
You probably would; you whine into the comforter, wriggling a little as he pumps his fingers in and out; he scoffs, rounding the bed a little and clamping his other hand down to hold you by the back of your neck. “There we go,” he coos. “Nice and still for me, hm? Baby’s so sweet when she’s just been punished.”
“Fuck,” you groan. “Channie—”
“What was that?” He hums. “Can’t hear you, baby. Just lemme use you. You’re gonna come for me a few times, I think. Til I’m satisfied you’re remembering who owns you. Go on.”
You’re about to protest—tell him you can’t, not yet, not when your entire lower half is aching and screaming and numb all once—when he does something he’s never done.
Not while he’s punishing you, anyway.
His hand leaves your neck and he bends down and attaches his mouth to your clit, licking over the swollen nub with his tongue. And he sucks at it, hard. You scream, almost falling to the side but he keeps you upright, still pumping two fingers in and out of you as he gets to work with his mouth.
The first orgasm comes fast—hard, strong, pulled from your body with embarrassingly little force. It hurts, your body straining and tensing under aching skin, but Haechan talks you through it as he always does, coaxing you through every beat and every moment of it until it’s over, and the second is fast approaching. “Good,” he purrs. “There we go, little whore. Give me another.”
“Hurts,” you moan. “Can’t.”
“It should hurt,” he grunts; the words are muffled against your pussy and vibrate deliciously against the sensitive skin. “It’s the only way you learn. Ah, y— you taste so good, mm…”
”Haechan, please.”
He pulls away, suddenly, but you’re not naive enough to think it’s with the intention of any sort of mercy. Haechan never stops until he’s finished, and he’s not finished. He hasn’t even gotten his own fill, yet.
Which is why you’re not surprised by the sound of his zip and the feeling of his heavy, throbbing dick pushing into your hole. He doesn’t prep you, doesn’t need to when you’re this wet; just forces himself in with an iron grip on your waist that you’re certain will bruise as deeply as your wounded ass.
“Fucking tight,” he groans. The thrusts start hard and fast as they always do; no tenderness or attempt to ease you into it. Just rough, sharp, deep strokes that hit the spot with a dizzying precision. “You were built for this, weren’t you, little girl? Say it.”
“I was built for this,” you repeat; you’re surely loud enough for the entire dorm to hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. Right now all that matters, all that even exists to you is Haechan.
His hand crashes down on the back of your thigh, atop a deep red patch and makes you cry out in pain. “Built for what?” He sneers. “Say it, you whore.”
“Built for you,” you sob. “Built for— for your dick.”
“That’s right. Built to take dick, aren’t you? You close, honey?”
You are—you pretty much perpetually are when he’s fucking you like this. You nod, babbling something or other against the comforter and he laughs; presses a thumb to your clit and pushes down hard. It pulls the next orgasm out of you as though he’d merely had to push a button to pull you undone.
“Fuck,” you shriek. You shake and squirm through it, pleasure mounting even as you release it. The moment you do he pulls out, flipping you onto your back only to shove himself back in again.
His hand closes around your neck, face moving to inches from yours. He grabs your legs, pushing them back towards your head as he starts up again. “There,” he smiles. “Want you to look at me while I take you apart. Need you to know who’s doing it to you.”
“Haechan,” you cry. You feel the tears pouring again but you don’t care. “Haechan,” you repeat.
“That’s right,” he groans. He gives a hard, deep thrust and holds it there, watching your face contort in pleasure before letting you go. His grip on your neck tightens, just enough to make you dizzy. “Haechan, baby. Only I get to do this. Only I know how to do this, huh? I know how to handle sluts like you.”
“Yeah,” you shudder. “Fuck, Haechan, I need—”
“I’ll decide,” he snarls. He makes his point with another hard, long stroke that makes you cry out again. “I’ll decide what you need and what you get. Understand?”
“Okay—fuck—yeah, I understand.”
“Good. Come again for me.”
“I ca—”
“Don’t you fucking dare say you can’t,” he growls. “I will fuck you up, whore. I said you’re gonna come, so you’re gonna come. Don’t test me now.”
“Please,” you sob. “Help— I need help. Can’t— alone—”
He rolls his eyes like this is all beneath him. One hand moves from your neck to slap you across the face then returns with even more pressure. The sight of him above you—dark, stern, determined—makes your blood run cold and your stomach burn hot.
“I have to do everything for you,” he laughs. “You really can’t do anything, shit. I knew you’d go dumb for me but not that much, Jesus. You can’t even do the one thing you’re supposed to be able to do.”
The words escape you now—only loud, distressed gargles come from your mouth that hangs ajar like all the life and energy’s been sucked out of you. Haechan snorts, amused, and hits you with a sharp, quick thrust. “You’re embarrassing,” he spits. “Lucky for you I’m feeling generous.”
One hand leaves your neck again and he spits down onto it, eyes still locked on yours. When it’s coated and dripping in saliva he presses it against your clit; suddenly, wordlessly, the pressure inescapable. “I’m gonna count down from ten,” he says. “If you haven’t come by the time I hit zero, I’m fucking your ass.”
In reality, you’d both like that. But you also both know that there’s not a single scenario on earth, save for zombie apocalypse or alien invasion, that could result in Haechan reaching zero and you still not having come.
You’re on the edge of it. You always are with him; when he touches and takes you apart like this. He just needs to force it out of you.
Little do you know, he made you like this on purpose. Trained you to come easier and harder and better when his hands are rough and punishing; when his words are foul and demeaning. Trained you to crave his cruelty just as you crave your pleasure—it’s impossible not to, when he’s made them so inextricably linked.
“Ten.”
His little painslut. He rubs slow, agonising circles on your clit in time with his thrust. The hand on your neck tightens in just the right; the way you’d practiced together so many times until he was sure he could do it properly. The way that has you light, floaty, drifting away but still firmly tethered.
“Nine.”
His hand pulls back then comes down again, right on your clit. The sound is sharp and loud and wet; your cry of pain is even louder and so much prettier. He can’t keep the grin off his face at the way you come undone beneath him and love it just as much as he does.
“Eight.”
He speeds up his thrusts, angling them just the way you like, just the way that hurts, burning from the stretch. His fingers move faster on your clit and he feels your legs shaking where they’re wrapped around him, their grip tightening on his waist. He can feel it—it’s coming.
“Seven.”
His hand comes down on six, just where it landed last time.
You come on five. Suddenly and violently and clinging to him with all your might. You scream his name so loud and strangled he doubts you’ll be able to talk tomorrow.
He doesn’t really care.
He was planning on keeping your mouth full anyway.
