synopsis: heeseung was always the freak, always the dominant one in sex. but when you saw his new playboy boxers peaking through his clothes? oh boy, you went absolutely feral.
warnings: smut, reader is kinda dominant (??), heeseung gets dominant later, blowjob, orgasm denial, riding, unprotected sex (don't do this!!), breast stimulation, heeseung eventually shoves his boxers into reader's mouth, just pure filth tbh. minors do not interact.
author's notes: I got this request all the way back to february, right after I posted about heeseung wearing the playboy underwear. and I put it aside for a while before march 10 and everything happened. I couldn't even look at the draft, I was running from it like it was the plague. but it's here now, and I hope you guys like it. kisses!
tonight was just a movie night. you and heeseung chilling in his apartment, watching a movie in his comfy couch, his arm around you as you both ate popcorn.
you were just laying your head on his shoulder, satisfied. you heard your phone buzz, on the left of the couch. sighing, you move to check the message.
"who is it, baby?" heeseung asks calmly, eyes still on the movie.
you turn your phone off. "just yunjin texting me about some guy she-"
you stop on your tracks when your eyes look down.
'playboy' with the logo beside it, peaking out of his sweatpants. new boxers, definitely. holy fucking shit.
heeseung frowned. "doll?" he looked at you, frowning even more when he saw your eyes stuck down somewhere. he looked down, about to ask if it was some kind of bug.
"hee... when did you buy these?" you ask lowly. slowly. your fingers ran on top of the edge gently.
he frowned even more before he realized you were talking about the boxers. "oh, I think last week. I read somewhere they were more comfortable, and they really are, so-"
you shut him up as you kissed him, going to his lap. the kiss was desperate, one of your hands still on his hip and the other on his neck now.
heeseung was caught off-guard, placing his hands on your hips as he kissed you back. "doll- doll, what-" you didn't let him speak, sucking on his tongue, getting a moan off him.
you pulled back to kiss down his neck, rubbing your hips against his. "d-doll... fuck- why are you so horny?" he asked, breathless as you marked his neck.
you left a hickey and pulled back to look at him. "these fucking boxers. gosh, you look so damn hot." you kissed him again, making him groan.
you could feel him getting hard as you kept rubbing. you pulled back from the kiss to pull his shirt off him, which he did without a second thought. you saw the edge of his boxers and almost moaned. fuck, he looked amazing.
you started to kiss on his collarbone, still moving your hips against his. he groaned again. "goddamn it- oh, baby... when did you get so freaky?" he smirked down at you.
you looked up. "the moment I saw you with these boxers." you kneeled down between his legs. oh, that was a sight he could never get tired of.
you slowly pulled his sweatpants down, only the boxers on him now. he was hard, a wet spot on the material where his tip is. you palmed him slowly, making a weak groan get out of him. "oh, doll... gosh-"
you just pulled his hard dick out of the boxers, not bothering to take them off yet. you fisted his dick slowly, letting the precum run through your hand, getting a low groan from heeseung. you licked his cock after, going from the base to the tip, teasing him. he only moaned, hands gripping the couch. "come on baby- just please, suck me already..." he muttered.
you smirked before shoving it all inside your mouth at once, the tip hitting your throat, making your vision blur. heeseung moaned, head leaning back against the couch, eyes closing.
his hand grabbed your hair as your head went up and down, mouth sucking his cock just the way he liked it. heeseung was in heaven, groaning at the feeling, your mouth driving him crazy.
you took it off your mouth to lick the tip and go back down, the sounds wet and nasty. he was loving it.
when heeseung tightened his grip on your hair, you knew he was close. you kept sucking him, spit and precum running down your chin. but just as he was about to get close, you pulled out, catching your breath.
he immediately opened his eyes to look down at you, his cock hard and red. "b-baby, I was about to-"
you smirked, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. "you will cum inside me when I ride you, understood?" you asked as you got up. heeseung immediately went silent, your tone making him almost explode just there.
you made it torturous, taking your shirt off first, slowly. the image of your boobs, just there, in front of him, it made heeseung want to just pull you down and suck on them. but he stayed put.
you slowly took your shorts after, your black panties covering the pussy he wanted oh so bad to see. it had enough sheerness for him to see, but not enough for him to *see*.
you chuckled before taking the panties off and sitting on his lap. "you look hungry." you teased.
he gripped your hips before running his hands up and down your thighs. "starving for you, mama. please... I need to cum." he looked up at you, those shiny eyes you couldn't say 'no' to.
you smirked. "since you asked nicely..." you positioned yourself before lowering down on him. heeseung moaned, grip tightening on your hips as he bottomed out inside you. you leaned your head back, moaning.
he felt you start to move your hips back and forth, making him lose his mind. he took your left boob on his mouth, sucking on it, bitting, kissing, licking. you held onto his hair, going up and down on his cock now.
"hee- fuck, oh my-" his big cock inside you felt so good.
he chuckled against your boob. "feel good, babydoll? yeah, bounce on that dick. it's yours baby." he said before sucking on your nipple. his hands went to your ass, squeezing as he helped your movements on his lap.
you knew he was close, the way he was thrusting up into you, his small groans. it took barely 5 minutes before he held your hips still, cumming deep into your pussy, moaning against your shoulder.
you barely registered the orgasm before he threw you on the couch, stomach up. he was breathing heavily, slightly sweaty, looking frustrated.
"you thought you could refuse me like that and not get out absolutely wrecked?" he asked lowly, taking his sweatpants off together with his playboy boxers, eyes burning with lust and danger.
he suddenly had an idea and took his boxers back up from the floor, eyes dark. "you like my boxers, huh? be a good girl and open that mouth for me." he commanded lowly. you opened your mouth without a single thought before he shoved his boxers into your mouth.
he climbed over you, settling between his legs before shoving his dick inside you again. you moaned, the sound muffled by his boxers. his pace already started fast, making you roll your eyes back to your head, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. his grip on your hips was tight as he pounded into you, moaning as well.
heeseung leaned down, taking your right boob into his mouth, sucking hard on the nipple before swirling his tongue around it. you moaned louder around the boxers on your mouth, clenching around him. he chuckled against your tit and took his hand down between your legs, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbing fast. you rolled your eyes in pure pleasure, mind going a little blurry. it all felt so good with him.
it barely registered before you came around him, moaning loud around the boxers, thighs shaking. heeseung moaned, satisfied, thumb leaving your clit so he could take hold of your hip again.
a few thrusts later, he came inside you again, both of you moaning. he took the boxers off your mouth, making you breath heavily. "is my babydoll okay?"
you nodded, breathless. "yeah..." you let out, staring up at him.
he smirked. "you really like my new boxers, huh?" he leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. you nodded a bit.
hesseung chuckled lowly against your skin. "good. wanna make sure I fuck you so hard tonight they'll be all you remember." he said and flipped you over, making you lay on your stomach, shoving his dick inside you again.
taglist: @sxno0 @ikeumiu @arelyvn @pussiifairy @supahintohoon @foreveronez @shinaerie @nishiirkz @supahintohoon @hyyhwriter (idk who else to tag guys I'm sorry im kinda sleep deprived lol)
⊹₊⟡⋆. fashion killa, asap rocky︱martin is down bad for his stylist and everyone knows. (i really like this fic)
CONTENT! fluff kisses banter idol&stylist ⊹ ࣪ ˖
the studio was pretty much silent, which never happened when cortis had an outfit fitting. yn rustled through the racks of clothes all around the room.
she moved in front of the long mirror, smoothing out some wrinkles in a jacket. the hot pink baby tee she wore raised revealing the curve of her toned stomach as damp curls fell over her shoulders.
the door opened behind her, but she didn’t even have to turn, she knew exactly who it was.
“do you schedule my fittings last on purpose or something?” martin’s voice said from the doorway.
yn glanced at him through the mirror.
martin leaned on the doorframe, he had on basic blue jeans and a white tank top, but still looked like he was ready for a magazine shoot. his eyes fell on yn.
“you were twenty minutes late,” she huffed.
“sooo, basically on time.”
she finally turned and crossed her arms. “for you.”
martin grinned.
he pushed his tall body away from the door and walked closer, keeping his eyes on yn the whole time. the rest of the group had always made fun of martin’s big crush on their stylist, but they could understand it, all admitting she was crazy pretty.
yn pretended not to notice how he was looking at her, she picked up the jacket she was eyeing before and held it up to his chest, trying to focus on her job.
“arms up.”
martin lifted them immediately, staring down at her still.
“stop it,” yn said.
“sorry. you’re just extra distracting today.”
she snorted, stepping away to look at the outfit. “martin, i’m wearing a shirt and jeans.”
“yeah but it’s you wearing it.”
she rolled her eyes, trying to hide her small smile, but he saw it like he always did.
martin stepped closer until he was right in front of yn while she looked for a pin on the table. he was close enough to see the tiny birthmarks on her neck, and his gaze drifted down until it landed on the small script tattoo on her hipbone that read princess.
“princess,” he mumbled softly.
yn froze before also looking down. his hand slowly reached out, tracing the tattoo on her hip.
she felt her breath hitch. “you’re not supposed to touch the stylist,” she said, trying her hardest to sound like this wasn’t affecting her.
“if the stylist is flirting back you can,” martin responded.
she scoffed. “literally when have i ever flirted with you?”
“right now.”
yn was in the middle of stepping back but he gently pulled her in again by one of the belt loops on her jeans. now their bodies were way closer than before.
she narrowed her eyes at him.
“i’m desperate, yn,” martin said.
“i can tell, babe,” she laughed in his face.
he smiled and leaned in, her teasing only made him like her more. yn moved out of his hold by twisting to the side to grab a hanger from a nearby by rack.
martin watched her dodge away. “you always run.”
“i’m working.” she shrugged.
“you’ve been working around me for six months.”
yn took a shirt off the hanger and turned back toward the persistent boy.
“have you ever thought that i just don’t want you?”
“ouch.” martin held a hand dramatically to his chest.
he slowly stepped closer again and yn didn’t move away. they were so close that the room felt way smaller and the energy between them shifted.
martin studied her face like he was trying to find something.
“can i try something?” he asked more quietly than usual.
she squinted up at him. “that sounds really suspicious.”
“just trust me.”
“even more suspicious.”
he laughed under his breath as his hand found the belt loop of her jeans again, tugging her a little closer until their bodies brushed.
yn didn’t even try to pull herself away this time.
his thumb brushed over the tattoo on her hip again, but this time way more slower.
“i’ve been wanting to do this forever,” he mumbled lowly.
“touch my tattoo?”
his eyes met hers. “to kiss you.”
yn’s heart felt like it was doing backflips so obviously she did what she always did, leaned forward like she was about to kiss him, then moved sideways at the last second.
martin groaned. “c’mon.”
she grinned, walking backwards, but he just reached out again and pulled her back toward him by the wrist.
yn looked at him for real, there was something so warm in his face that made her chest feel tight and she exhaled slowly.
“you don’t give up, do you?”
“no.”
she shook her head, finally giving in. “fine.”
martin blinked. “fine what?”
yn stepped forward so their faces were inches apart and their lips brushed.
“god, just stop talking,” she whispered and then kissed him.
it was soft and shy at first like she was testing it. martin froze for a second because this moment had been replaying in his head for months and it was actually finally happening.
his hand fell to her waist as he pulled her closer, wanting her as close as possible. they both tilted their heads to deepen the kiss. martin couldn’t help but smile against her soft lips, he couldn’t believe she actually let him kiss her.
yn pulled back for air, martin’s eyes were clouded with pure happiness.
“i knew it,” he panted.
she furrowed her eyebrows, also out of breath. “what?”
“you do like me.”
“don’t get used to this.” she tried to hide her smile but it didn’t work at all.
martin leaned down and pressed another quick kiss to her lips. “you’re really bad at pretending you don’t like me, yn.”
The designs are in the pictures, obviously (may the Ticket Taker forgive me — I got tired when I started drawing him, maybe I’ll fix it later).
The idea is this: instead of doing tricks, they entertained people by singing. So basically, the premise is the same as in the original, just with a slightly different setting.
For those who didn’t get it: the monsters were living peacefully, singing songs to each other, and one day an evil human heard them and took the little monsters into slavery— I mean, made them “workers”! Later, when people realized they liked Columbina’s singing more, they stopped feeding the others and… yum yum, crunch crunch — and Columbina was gone. After the monsters had a TALK with the humans, they decided they still enjoyed singing, so they continued their activity, wandering from stage to stage.
content warnings: MDNI, smut, power imbalance (idol x fan), dubious consent/coercive dynamics, slight alcohol consumption, breath play/choking, rough sex, overstimulation, breast play, oral (m and f receive), slight degradation if you squint, possessive behavior, public interaction leading to private sexual encounter, emotional distress/panic spirals/anxiety, slight dacryphilia, explicit language, physical restraint/pinning, unprotected sex, pull out.
words: 9.9k
AN: based on this ask. Keep in mind that it’s my first time doing an ask (which I was so grateful for btw!) so I hope it lives up to everyone’s expectations! Yes, I absolutely did get carried away, but somehow the story just wrote itself, what could I do…
*everything is fictional, just for some distracting fun*
Reposts are super appreciated 🤍
---------
Your ribs press slightly against the barrier, people pushing in from behind you as Hongioong appears on the screen. The camera follows him backstage and you feel yourself swoon a little: that cocky smile of his with the walk of a man who knows no fear, the energy he radiates - it's intoxicating.
This is your second show for the tour. Yesterday, you had stood directly in front of the stage, but you kept noticing Hongjoong going to the left side, so today, you decided to try going there too.
And it worked.
For the last hour and a half, he has been coming to this side of the stage, giving you and the people around you all kinds of interactions. You couldn't be happier that your bias is so close. More than that, it feels like he keeps singing to you, winking and pointing in your direction. Obviously, you're not delusional enough to think it means anything, but it doesn't make the feeling any less incredible.
You even made a fist to ask him to play rock paper scissors with you, out of sheer curiosity, and you about died inside when he played with you. His eyes were locked on yours the whole time, and your face burned at his intimidating presence.
Your eyes are now glued to the screen as the camera follows him up the stairs to the stage. When he appears, your heart falters a little at the sight, the lights making millions of sparkles burst on his custom made jacket.
The crowd erupts in screams and cheers when he starts yet another brand new intro to his song, as he does every night. There's something about his creative genius that gets you going every single time - if only you could have a peek inside that brain of his...
Suddenly, he makes his way down the stairs to the little corridor between the crowd and the stage, and when his foot meets the ground, he turns his head to meet your eyes instantly.
A drop of sweat runs down your back at his disarming gaze, and you can feel every fan in your vicinity staring at you. You don't know if you should look away or hold his stare, but your body takes the decision away from you - you can’t look away. Not when he prances towards you, not when he sings to you, not even when he comes face to face with you.
It feels like a dream.
His orange hair seems somewhat brighter despite the lack of light down here, the shimmers around his eyes put you in a trance, and his perfume - god his perfume - it makes your head spin.
He's right there. And no, you're not dreaming. Your bias, the man you compare every guy you meet to, is standing less than two feet away from you. The one you put on a pedestal for his kindness, his generosity, his cleverness and wit, and let's face it, his stunning visuals.
His eyebrow cocks as the chorus approaches and your breath catches in your throat. You've seen videos of this happening, him passing the mic to an ATINY and having her sing along, but not in a million years did you ever think this would happen to you. You're tragically unprepared, but he doesn’t give you a choice.
It’s like it all happens in slow motion - him singing the words N-O-1 before angling the mic towards you. His demeanour is almost lazy, his free hand holding on to the barrier as he leans his weight against it.
You don't think, you just act.
The lyric comes out of you in an instant. It's not perfect or steady, your nerves manifesting in a shaky breath, but you'll be damned if you don't take this opportunity.
He smiles at you, a kind, warm smile with a slight under layer of smugness and you bite your lip, trying not to scream. He catches the tiny movement with a flicker of his eyes, and withdraws his hand from the barrier - not without brushing his fingers over your waist. Could it be accidental? Most likely. But it doesn't stop your entire body from lighting up.
He turns away, continuing his way around the stage, and you could swear he winks at you as his head whips, but so much just happened in such a short amount of time that you're dizzy, and everything feels blurry.
A girl behind you pats your shoulder.
“Girl, you good?”
The sound suddenly comes back fully and you start breathing again. You look at her and smile weakly, nodding your head yes, unable to produce words.
Your friend couldn't make it today, and you were debating whether to come on your own or not, but you’re so glad you pushed through the nerves and decided to enjoy it anyways. She is absolutely going to regret not having been here for this.
You watch as he continues to walk around the corridor, and you notice, despite trying to stay grounded, that he doesn’t pass the mic to anyone else. It’s so hard not to come to any conclusions, but you also know this is his job - you’re not the first fan he gave the mic to, and you certainly won’t be the last.
You focus on your breathing for a second, trying to calm your racing heart, before you dial back into the performance. You’re here to watch them after all.
Hongjoong is behind the DJ booth again, jumping around and you let yourself enjoy it.
Shutter flashin’ on me
The strobe lights are blinding, making you feel lost in the sea of fans, and you let yourself get carried with their voices.
Fit so clean I’m blessing lenses like a Sunday service
Your eyes are glued to him as his hips move in a hypnotising rhythm. All of a sudden he’s staring at you again.
She screamin' out my name
I got the girls feeling holy
You wish you were making this up in your head. Either you’ve gone crazy, or this is the most fan service that ever fan serviced. This man just winked at you whilst singing this. Is he implying you would scream out his name? That he would make you feel holy?
You shake your head.
This has gone too far. It almost feels like you’re falling into a spiral of delusions and you need to claw your way out now, or you might get stuck in it.
————
The rest of the concert goes off without a hitch, lest for a few pointing glances from a certain orange haired man, and you’re not sure if you should ignore them, or if you’re overthinking it and would come off as rude.
As incredible as this experience was, when the venue lights come back on, you breathe a sigh of relief. The fans emptying around you are giving you some physical and mental room to breathe, and you welcome it. Your friend is definitely never going to believe this.
You grab all your things, packing a handful of confetti in your bag and start making your way out when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see security standing there, intimidating.
“Miss, were you standing over there?” He asks as he points to where you just were moments ago.
You nod, swallowing thickly with nerves. “Yeah I was, why? Is it the confetti? ‘Cause I saw everyone doing this, I thought it was allowed…”
“I’m not here about the confetti, you can take as much as you want.” He motions towards the side of the stage. “Could you follow me? This will just take a minute.”
Confusion and intrigue battle inside your mind for a moment, the latter winning the fight.
You follow the broad shouldered man to a small curtain under the stage, where a woman awaits. She smiles at you before handing you a piece of paper.
“He wanted you to have this.” She says, disappearing as soon as you grab the small white rectangle.
You unfold it slowly with trembling hands.
I trusted you with my mic, trust me with one night.
And below, a phone number.
Your eyes dart back to where the woman was but she’s already long gone, and when you look to your side, so is the man who brought you here.
“Is this a joke?” You throw out, your voice much quieter than you wish it was, but with no one to answer you, you decide to give the number a try.
Your fingers shake as you dial the number. It rings a couple of times before the line crackles.
“Hello?”
A beat, and then, “Hello, I’m glad to see you took my number.”
“Is this actually Kim Hongjoong? Is someone pranking me?”
“Meet me at the Hilton by the venue at 11.30pm. Room 613. And please, don’t bother changing into anything else.”
“What? What do you m-“ Your question gets cut off by the beep of the call being ended.
You blink at nothing, as if seeing better could help you make sense of this conversation.
It sure sounded like his voice, but there is no way an idol would actually call you, let alone invite you to his room. No, this is definitely a prank.
But then again, why would security go through all this trouble? Is it something they do every show to entertain themselves in some sadistic way, or were they just following instructions?
You look at the time.
10.47pm
Forty-three minutes until the mentioned meeting time.
Out of curiosity, you check the nearest Hilton location, finding out that it’s only a fifteen minute walk.
The venue is almost empty now, and you have no choice but to leave. As you approach the doors, you stare at the map in front of you. You can either turn right and go to the bus stop, or turn left and find out if this is real or some cruel joke - but neither option seems to be the right one. You look up and see a bar across the street, deciding to settle there for the time being.
————
11.12pm
You haven’t stopped checking the time since you sat down, sighing after every sip of your beer, unsure what to do.
On one hand, you could just go home and pretend this was just a fever dream. On the other hand… on the other hand, you could potentially have the most incredible experience of your life - if only you trusted in fate a little. You take the last swig of your drink, clanking it down on the table. Gathering your belongings, you step outside and look at your options one last time.
If I didn’t want to go, why would I still be thinking about it?
That one thought is what settles it for you - your body pulls you to your right, the neon sign of the Hilton guiding your way as you feel a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach.
————
When you reach the hotel entrance, it feels like the glowing sign is looking down at you, mocking you for believing Hongjoong actually wants you to meet him in his hotel room. You're frozen in place, unable to step foot inside, when your phone rings.
No caller ID
You hesitate but answer after a few rings.
"I can see you at the entrance, why aren't you coming in? It's cold."
You look around, checking for any sign of someone following you, but there is nothing, just the light traffic of hotel occupants coming and going.
"I'm in my room, you won't see me from down there."
Your head automatically tilts upwards, looking for someone in a window, but it's impossible to tell which one is his.
"Just come up before you turn into an icicle."
The call cuts before you can say anything.
Screw it. Maybe it's the beer talking, or maybe it's the exhaustion from having been on your feet all day, but you haven't come this far just to turn around.
You walk into the hotel, your first thought being to go to reception but you abstain - asking where an idol's room is won't exactly look great. Instead, you go to the nearest elevator and punch in the dial for the 6th floor. Logically, that's where he'll be.
The more floors you go past, the faster your heart beats. This is absolutely insane. The craziest, most unhinged thing you've ever done, but you're too close to finding out what's going on to turn back now.
The doors open with a ding and you jump at the sound. Stepping outside, slowly, you scan the doors for where to go.
607, 609, 611
There it is. Room 613.
You bring your fist up to knock when the door opens, and there he is.
In front of your eyes. Kim Hongjoong. You search his face for surprise at you being here, but there is none. Instead, he's smiling at you.
"I'm glad you made it."
No words come to you. It's like you're a toddler who has yet to produce her first words. You should really say something, a greeting, or maybe even smile, not look at him like a fish.
Nothing.
He chuckles and opens the door wider for you.
"Come in!"
The ice around your body slowly thaws and you find the ability to move your legs, one step at a time, until you're standing in the middle of his room, the door locking behind you.
You absolutely did not think this through. Your brain only took you as far as figuring out if this was real or a prank, it never actually put you through the scenarios of what to do should this actually be happening.
"Do you need anything? Have you eaten since the show?" He's already by the room phone, dialling reception.
You shake your head lightly. Now that he mentions it, you haven't really eaten all day.
"No."
He smiles. "She speaks! Alright, I'll order you some… fries? Burger? Salad? What do you want?" Your stomach rumbles as he lists the foods. "Salad’s fine.”
He raises an eyebrow at you when someone answers on the other line. "Hi, yes, I'd like to have some salad, fries and a burger brought up to room 613 please.” He looks at you from the corner of his eyes. “Throw in a brownie too." He turns to you. "You can eat whatever you want."
When he hangs up, he looks at you, scanning you, and you suddenly feel not just out of place, but tiny, insignificant. You're in the presence of this man who has thousands at his feet and has dominated industries, and you can't help but wonder why he asked you to come.
"You should sit down." He says, pulling a chair out for you.
You oblige, mindlessly, as if he was in control of your actions.
"What's your name?"
"Y/n." You whisper, realising that he has no idea who you are.
He smiles, a genuine, happy smile. "I'm Hongjoong, nice to meet you."
He extends his hand and you stare at it for a moment before grabbing it. The contact of his skin sends a current of electricity coursing through your veins and you tense.
"I know." You say, a little snarky. "I kind of just went to your concert." He bursts out in a laugh that surprises you, but it pulls a shy smile out of you.
"I suppose that's fair." He waits for a moment. "I'm sorry for all the theatrics, I feel like I made this whole thing more cryptic than it needed to be."
"Just a tad." You say, scratching your neck. "I didn't know if it was real or a prank. I'm still not sure…” You chuckle.
For the first time since you arrived, you take a quick scan of the room. You've seen their hotel rooms on lives, but being in it feels different. It feels... mundane. Banal. Just another hotel room, much like the ones you've stayed in before - although perhaps bigger. His things are packed neatly in a little corner, his DJ pad sitting on the nightstand, as if he had been practicing until your arrival.
He tracks your eyes to the small machine.
"You want me to show you?"
He's already up and walking to pick it up, making you notice his outfit, which you hadn't paid any mind to when you got here.
He's wearing a loose white t-shirt, his tattoo peaking through the sleeve, and a pair of grey sweats. His makeup is gone and his hair looks freshly washed.
You look down at yourself and can't help but feel a little gross. You've been sweating, standing, amongst thousands of people, and you look completely out of place. Instinctively, your arms cross over your chest, too aware of how revealing your top is - the halter neck corset not doing much to hide certain parts of you.
When he turns around, DJ pad in hand, he notices your posture has changed, and it feels like all of a sudden the air changes too.
He burrows his eyes into yours.
"You don't need to do that. You look nice. Actually, you look beautiful." His voice is soft but commanding.
You want to uncross your arms, but the blush is creeping to the surface of your skin now, and you feel even more aware of the situation. He takes a slow step towards you.
"Why do you think I told you not to change?"
You open your mouth to respond but a knock on the door interrupts you before you can.
Room service might have just saved you from getting yourself into a situation you shouldn't be in with how this was going.
You look towards the door and notice Hongjoong only has it open enough to take the tray from the hotel worker, not enough to let them see you in here. It makes you realise that no one knows where you are, and it brings both a slight fear and an intriguing flash of excitement through you.
The smell of the food hits your nose as soon as the door is closed and your stomach protests at the lack of attention you've given it today.
"Food's here!" He puts the tray down on the table and sits down in front of you, but you don't move. "I was serious earlier. Have what you want. As much or as little as you want."
You look at the array of delicious looking plates before you, your mouth salivating, but you can't quite bring yourself to touch any of it.
"That's so much... I can't."
"Yes, you can. I ordered it for you."
"But.." You're not sure how to phrase it. "You paid for it..."
He scoffs. "So? You think this is what's gonna ruin me? Y/n, eat." He's serious now, and you don't want to make him mad or seem disrespectful, so you tentatively grab a french fry.
When it hits your tongue, the salt makes you instantly close your eyes and hum in contentment.
He observes you, the small sound you just made going straight to his head. He was right to make you come here - there was no other way he could get you out of his system.
When you reopen your eyes, you catch him staring at you, unabashedly, and you fold into yourself a little, embarrassed.
"Sorry..."
"For what? I'm glad you're enjoying the food."
His smile is sincere, but the intensity of his gaze is unsettling. Still, you continue to pick at the fries, taking a bite of the burger here and there. It may not be the most ladylike thing, but your care slowly goes out the window the more you eat.
He watches you for what feels like hours before speaking.
"Is there anything you wanna know?"
The question takes you by surprise and you stop mid chew. Yes, there are so many things you're burning to find out, but you have no idea where to begin.
"Are you not tired?"
He chuckles at your question, probably expecting something completely different. "Aren't you?"
"A little.” You shrug. “The food is helping though."
"I'm the same. I usually go to bed much later anyways, so this is nothing a little food can't fix." He says as he pops a fry in his mouth.
You smile at him, a genuine smile for the first time since you’ve arrived. It makes you feel a little better that he’s eating too and is so relaxed about all of this. You gain a bit of confidence to ask another question.
“What’s it like performing the same songs over and over again, do you ever get bored?”
He grins at your interest in his job. “It depends. It’s repetitive, but I love performing, and every performance is different. The crowds, the venues, the purpose, the energy. It gives the song a new feel every time. So for the most part, I’d say… no.”
You’re completely entranced by his words, drinking in every single thing he says. Your questions keep flowing as you get more comfortable - about his job, his career, his life. You can’t stop finding new questions to ask him, although you’re careful not to tread on ones that would seem too personal. After all, you have to remind yourself you’re in the presence of an idol, and although he invited you here, he still probably doesn’t want to divulge every aspect of his life to you.
He keeps answering everything without hesitating, but one thing is burning at the tip of your tongue.
“I have another question, but… I’m not sure I should.”
Curiosity sparks inside him and he stands straighter, expectant.
You clear your throat. “Do you, umm… do you do this often?”
He knows what you mean but he wants you to say it out loud. “Do what?”
Your cheeks heat up. “Invite women… fans…up. Here. To your room.”
“No.”
The one word answer is simple and clear, and it makes the air feel like it suddenly weighs a half ton more. Your breathing grows a little quicker at the revelation. This somehow feels like an incredible amount of pressure, but would it have made you feel better if he said yes?
“Oh…” The word comes out breathless, almost inaudible.
His eyes drop to your outfit and you feel like shrinking into your seat, but his presence pins you into place.
“I saw you yesterday, you know? You were wearing your hair up, and your top was like our cowboy outfit from last tour.”
The revelation knocks the air out of you. How is it possible that he noticed you when you were multiple rows away from barricade?
“Actually, I had to avoid the front as much as possible. You distracted me, and I almost missed my cue during Lemon Drop. That’s the first time it’s happened. I was pretty flustered after that. Took me a few minutes to lock back in, but I could feel you staring at me the whole time.”
“I had no idea, sorry…”
He laughs a little. “What are you apologising for? You weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“Still, I… I don’t know. I didn’t mean to distract you.”
He nods. “I know. It just happened. And I thought I’d be fine today, honestly. Actually, I was relieved when I didn’t see you at first. But then, when I spotted you on my right, it felt like a sign. That’s where I’d been coming yesterday - but you obviously knew that. That’s why you came, isn’t it.”
His last sentence isn’t a question - it’s a statement. If he told you he could read minds you wouldn’t be surprised.
Of course you knew, and of course you weren’t gonna miss that chance.
You hadn’t realised until now, but he’s been inching closer and closer to you, leaning on the edge of his chair.
Your brain manages to form the words you’ve been itching to ask. “Why me?”
He leans back a little, rubbing a hand over his face. “Honestly? I have no idea. I wish I had a clear answer, but I don’t. There’s a lot of beautiful fans every night, and without sounding mean, there’s nothing inherently different about you.” He pauses for a second, leaning his elbows on his knees. You can almost feel his breath fanning your face. “Except that I couldn’t get you out of my head. I needed to be close to you. Talk to you. Hear your voice. Get to know you. Get you out of my system by any means necessary.”
His proximity and his words make your head spin. “The beer was a bad idea.” You mutter as you feel your face flush, your breathing growing erratic.
He stands up suddenly, grabbing a glass of water and handing it to you.
“Hydrate.”
You take it with shaky hands and drink slowly, focusing on calming yourself, instead of his overbearing presence next to you, worry written in the furrow of his brow.
He watches you closely, checking any sign that you aren’t well, his gaze automatically dropping to your chest. His angle gives him the perfect view of it rising and falling, reminding him just why he had to get you up here.
Feeling the cold water flowing down your throat helps calm you a little, and you put the glass down. He's still staring at you, observing you.
You look up at him from under your lashes and his stomach flips at the sight, when he sees a drop of water glide past your lip. Without thinking, he wipes it with his thumb, cupping your face in his warm hand, and you freeze.
He doesn't pull away. He wants to see if you will - if you'll hesitate or feel discomfort. Instead, your fingertips find his wrist, laying on it, as if trying to see if he's real. His perfume hits your nose and your eyelids flutter as the scent flows through you.
You feel the blood coursing through his veins, his slightly elevated pulse, and somehow, that grounds you - you realise you're not the only one affected by this situation.
Slowly, he kneels down, eye level with you. You can't look away. It feels like he's gravity pulling you into him.
Your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, so perfect and pink, and without realising it, you're inching closer to him. He can feel your breath on his face and his heartbeat stutters, jaw ticking from the effort of restraining himself.
When you realise what you're doing, you pull back sharply, looking down, ashamed at your lack of control.
He hates that. He hates that you won't come closer, hates that you won't let yourself do what he knows you want to do.
He can't take the distance anymore, and, using the hand that's cradling your face, pulls you into him.
The moment your lips touch it feels like time stops, your brain short-circuits. It takes you a few seconds to understand what's happening, but when you do, your body melts into his without question, your fingers weaving through his hair.
The feeling is so foreign. This isn’t your first kiss, but it might as well be. Every nerve is firing signals into your brain, not knowing what to focus on.
Your back arches to try and get closer to him, your breath mingling with his, your hands tugging at his roots to try and keep you steady.
Hongjoong isn’t much more controlled, the hand that was on your face is holding on to you like he’s scared you’ll disappear, whilst his other is lingering on the small of your back, trying to pull you even closer to him.
The feeling of his fingers on your bare skin sends a shiver through you, a tiny whimper coming out of you that travels straight to the pit of his stomach.
Despite having snacked on fries, you notice his breath smells of peppermint, whilst his skin seems to cast the woody smell of his perfume with every beat of his heart.
He hums quietly into you, and your fingers tighten around his hair and the collar of his shirt, whatever’s in reach. The gesture makes him growl, and his brows draw together as your presence consumes him.
You pull back a little, trying to catch your breath, and he leans his forehead against yours.
The distance helps your brain clear up, the situation becoming unmistakable with every passing heartbeat. When you look at him again, it's like it finally clicks in your head.
You throw yourself back in your seat, hands clasped against your mouth, eyes wide. A thousand thoughts race through your head.
This is wrong.
You stand up, overwhelmed, and start pacing around the room.
“What the fuck did I just do?”
“I shouldn’t have done this!”
“No no no no no…”
“I’ve just fucked my life up forever.”
Everything comes out of your mouth at once as you burn circles on the carpet, gnawing at your thumb. Your eyes are welling up at the importance and gravity of the situation.
He stands up slowly, chest heaving, eyes unable to detach from your curves, his brain stuck on the taste of your lips.
"Y/n?" he calls softly, but you don't hear him amongst the turmoil in your brain.
"Oh god and his reputation."
“People will know!”
"He's an idol y/n, what were you thinking?!"
He approaches you tentatively. "Y/n!"
But you still can't hear him, too lost to let the outside world in. You're spiralling - hard.
Suddenly you're whipped around, his hand firmly holding your elbow, facing him. His palm scorches your skin as every nerve ending reacts to his proximity.
"Just shut up and kiss me." He exhales, breathless, pleading eyes piercing into yours.
His mouth crashes into you again before your brain can register anything.
The kiss is more desperate this time, his need mirrored in the ache building in your chest. Your knees buck slightly at the overwhelming nature of the situation, but his hand quickly grabs your waist, pulling you further into him.
He's not letting you go anytime soon.
Your breathing grows heavier as his hand weaves itself in your hair and he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Every move he does puts you deeper in the trance of his touch.
His tongue swipes across your bottom lip in a silent request to be let in. You hesitate - a beat too long. He tugs at your hair, making you moan, and takes that opportunity to slide into your mouth, exploring it lazily, tasting you.
The rational part of you wants to stop him - this is wrong on so many levels. But that part is losing control with every kiss, relinquishing it over to him, barely putting up a fight.
Without you realising it, he’s walked back into the bed, the back of his knees hitting the edge of the mattress.
He lifts you up a little as he sits you both down, letting you straddle him on both sides. The position is incredibly intimate, sitting on top of him exactly where you can feel what he’s thinking and feeling - and right now, the evidence is… big. You can feel him growing under you second by second.
Both of your hands are holding his face now, like you can’t believe he’s real - which you still can’t -, your hair falling around your faces, as if caging you in from the outside world. His hand on your waist moves up your back, slowly, exploring every inch of exposed skin. Your back arches in the wake of his touch, and you can’t help the string of moans and whimpers flowing out of you.
He loves it - can’t help the way his mouth curves at every tiny, breathy sound you make.
The kisses become sloppier as time passes, desperation and need clawing at both your insides.
When he reaches the top of your back, his hands start exploring your arms, slowly, like he’s memorising every inch of you, and it leaves goosebumps across your skin.
His lips leave yours to trail down to your jaw. You welcome the break, but it’s short lived as he starts nibbling at your pulse, addicted to how frantic it is under his touch. He moves down to your collarbone as his hands trail back up to your shoulders, and you moan.
“Please just let me touch you sweetheart.” He whimpers between wet kisses. He’s desperate, on edge. “Please…”
You nod your head weakly, a barely perceptible “yes” passing your lips.
Tentatively, his hands move down to your breasts, still covered by your corset, squeezing them.
“Fuck” he groans against your skin, trailing his lips back up your neck.
Your breath catches in your throat at the feel of his hands on you, and you throw your head back, bracing your hands on his knees. He wasn’t expecting this, his legs jerking at your touch.
When he jerks, his hips push into your core a little. Not much, but just enough to feel it through your jeans, and you choke.
The feel of his painfully hard cock against you - and the sounds you make - makes him want more. He rolls his hips into you again, and the way you’re feeling him on you everywhere makes you breathe a high pitched cry.
He needs to hear you do that again, rolling his hips just a fraction, over, and over, chasing your sounds more than his own pleasure.
His self control is slipping. Fast.
His fingers find the knot holding your corset together at the front and he starts undoing it, loosening the ribbons inch by inch. The more you feel your skin breathe, the more flushed and out of breath you get. You don’t know how much he can see, and part of you doesn’t want to find out, but you don’t want to stop him either.
Not anymore.
Not when the slightest graze of his skin against yours sends electricity shooting through you. Not when he adorns your neck with another gentle yet needy kiss. Not when you feel him pressing into your cunt like that, the wet patch growing in your underwear.
And even if you told him to stop, he doesn’t know that he could.
He’s been fantasising about this since he first saw you yesterday - the way your sweat glistened as it fell down your cleavage, the way your tits would feel in his hands, how sweet they’d taste in his mouth, even how your body would react when he’d brush his thumbs over your nipples.
He jerked himself off so hard last night, thinking about it all, he almost blacked out.
Finally, he’s loosened the corset enough to pry it open, revealing your already hard peaks. He grunts at the sight, certain he could burst right now.
As he lowers his head slowly, you can feel his hot, humid breath on your skin, clinging to the film of sweat covering you from the anticipation. Your eyes are still closed, your head thrown back - you have no idea what he’s doing, and that excites you so much.
You forget to breathe when his lips wrap around one of your nipples. His teeth graze against it and you whimper his name.
His head is spinning, as if you were his poison and he was tapping straight in the vein.
“Say my name sweetheart, I love hearing you whimper it” he’s almost growling the words out, primal instincts taking over.
You finally look back down at him. Your brain can’t quite comprehend what it’s seeing, but there’s no pretending this isn’t happening anymore. With the way he’s drinking you in, that line is so far behind you it’s invisible - you left it as soon as you entered the room.
He sucks your other peak, a little harder this time, and you wince, gripping his hair as a reflex.
“Stop squirming.” He grunts.
And with that, he grabs your waist and neck and flips you down onto the bed, pinning you down with his legs so you stop wriggling at his touch.
The sudden shift in attitude and position knocks the wind out of you as you land on the mattress - his move wasn’t harsh, his hand on your neck softening the blow, but it takes you completely by surprise.
He’s now towering over you - imposing.
He’s weaved his legs over yours in a way that has you completely pinned, his hands firmly on the mattress beside your head. He looks down at you, orange strands framing his face as he hovers over you, a chain appearing from under his shirt. It dangles between the two of you like a silent promise, one you reach out to grab with no hesitation, pulling him to you.
He smirks.
He knows you’ve completely released your inhibitions - you’re not fighting it anymore, you’ve accepted it. Accepted the fact that this was somehow inevitable, that there was no other possible way to break the tension between the two of you than with this.
His hand brushes over your partially exposed tits, making you shiver, and trails down towards the waistband of your jeans. Your muscles contract at his touch and you bite your lip in anticipation.
He doesn’t stop there though. His hand continues lower, until it reaches that point between your legs.
You whimper. You’ve definitely started soaking through the fabric with how much he rubbed against you earlier, and he can feel it.
“Fuck y/n, you’re so wet already…”
He rubs a little, fascinated by your body’s natural response to him.
“Need… ah…” you stutter.
“I know.”
Simple. Factual. Effortlessly confident.
Still looking into your eyes, he unbuttons your jeans with one hand, sliding the zipper down so agonisingly slow.
You pull on his chain a little harder, signaling him that you need him to be quicker, but he ignores you. He wants to savour this.
When he peels away your jeans, he notices your red lace panties.
“Planning ahead, were we?” He drawls, eyebrow raised.
“A girl’s go-otta hope.”
He chuckles, low. “I’m glad.”
Getting rid of your jeans leaves you with nothing but your underwear and the corset, now hanging on by a literal thread. It’s exhilarating and unfair.
“Your turn.”
You pull at his collar before he knows what’s happening. He finishes it off, pulling it over his head and discarding it somewhere off the bed.
Your eyes are glued to him as you rub your hands over his soft skin. His abs are peaking through his flat stomach, slight definition appearing over each muscle you touch.
He lets you explore, watching your every move as your fingers make their way to his surprisingly toned chest.
“‘s that what you were hoping for?”
You bite your lip, throat dry. “Better.”
He drops his lips to yours again, kissing you feverishly as his hand lightly rubs against the wet spot between your legs. You whimper in his mouth, rolling your hips to get more friction.
You don’t have to tell him twice.
His hand slides into your underwear, coming skin to skin with your clit and you gasp. He starts rubbing a little harder, pulling away from your lips to see the way your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open.
His own mouth mimics you, completely possessed by you and your body, as he watches your every reaction.
Your chest starts to flush from the sensation and his eyes jump down to watch, fascinated. He drops his head lower, kissing your tits again, and you weave your fingers through his hair to keep him there.
The tugging on his roots sends jolts of pleasure straight to his cock and he slips a finger inside your dripping cunt. Your back arches instantly, offering him an even better angle to relish in your tits, and he couldn’t be happier.
“You’re gonna kill me before I can fuck you y/n…” he mutters into you as he slides his finger in and out, getting off on the sloppy sounds of your arousal.
You grab his chin, tilting it up so his eyes meet yours.
“Not y-yet. Wann’ taste you.”
You can see the way his eyes grow darker as another wave of lust hits him.
He sits up on his knees, pulling you by the wrists.
“I’m all yours sweetheart.”
With that, he leans against the headboard, arms behind his head, so incredibly cocky you want to kiss him.
You go to take off his joggers but he stops you.
“Take that off first.” He says, nodding to your corset. You look down, blushing a little when you see how messy it all looks - half removed threads, and tits completely out.
You stare into his eyes as you continue untying it, slowly, painfully. Normally, you’d just open the zipper in the back and slip it off, but what’s the fun in that when you can do this instead and watch how his jaw ticks from how fucking good you look right now.
When you’ve finally freed yourself from it, tossing it somewhere far from your perfect bubble, you look at him with overly pleading eyes.
“Now can I?”
He bites his lip and nods, a little desperation peaking through.
Your fingertips slip under his waistband but you hesitate for a fraction of a second. This is huge. Like, you’re about to see him fully naked. Your stomach jumps and you smile, licking your lips.
Finally finding the courage to do it, you shimmy his joggers down, carefully, only to find out he’s not wearing any boxers, his cock jumping up as soon as you free it.
You look at him, mouth a little agape, and he snickers.
“You weren’t the only one with your hopes up.”
You weren’t ready for this. Sure, every fan likes to imagine their idol is well equipped, but you didn’t think he’d be this… packed.
You don’t move for a second, taking it all in, wondering how you’re gonna fit him in your salivating mouth. The length isn’t so much the problem, it’s the girth. How in the world will your mouth be wide enough?
“You wanted it sweetheart, now go for it.”
A tiny spark of defiance ignites inside of you.
You brace yourself as you lower your face, not breaking eye contact, and making sure your ass wiggles a little as you adjust your position. He gave you a show tonight, it’s time you return the favour.
You place your hand around the base of his shaft and he twitches. Tentatively, you start sliding it up and down, getting a feel for him and he grunts, keeping his eyes locked onto you.
Unable to hold yourself back any longer, you flatten your tongue to glide up the underside of his length. You never thought you’d say this about anyone, but gosh he tastes so good.
He tenses again and a bead of precum surfaces at his tip, which you lap up excitedly, before finally taking him in. You choke a little at first, but you quickly relax, taking as much enjoyment in this as possible.
You continue bobbing up and down as he watches you, mesmerised.
One of his hands unfolds from behind his head and comes behind yours, guiding you.
“Yeah, just like that.” He pants.
You’re welling up now from the depth his hand is making you take him, but feeling how taut his body is and hearing his tiny noises as he holds himself back makes your confidence and pleasure grow.
You come up for air for a moment, and when you look at him, the sight of your swollen, glossing lips and the single tear streak running down your cheek makes his heart skip a beat, though he tries his best to ignore it.
“C’me here.”
He pulls you to his chest, smashing his lips onto yours. You find it so hot that he doesn’t care about tasting himself on your mouth. You pull away almost instantly, desperate to feel and taste his skin as you trace his neck and torso with your lips and tongue.
Boldness has taken over you, and you welcome the sudden shift in power. His chest is rising and falling quickly now, helpless. You bite him a little on the shoulder, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make him jolt.
“You can’t do that sweetheart…”
You pout a little and he caresses your spine, soothing you.
“I know I’m sorry.”
As an apology, you linger on the spot, kissing it softly, before resuming your path down his chest and stomach. When you get low enough, you grab his cock once more, resuming your previous work, but he unexpectedly flips you over.
You stare at him in shock as he removes the hair from your face and kisses you.
“I told you I didn’t wanna come before fucking you.”
His words send a fresh wave of heat flooding your core and your cunt. You bite your lip hard as he pulls down your panties, removing the final concrete barrier between the two of you.
He kneels down between your legs and buries his face in without hesitation, very differently to how you went about things just minutes ago, and you know well and truly that your moment of dominance is over. Because with the way he’s eating you out right now, you’d stop breathing if he just asked you to.
His tongue laps up your juices, not letting a single drop go, his nose rubbing against your clit with every move.
“Hongjoong, yes, right - ah, right there.” You whimper.
You know he loves hearing you say his name, and it undoes that last bit of restraint as he stands up from the bed and starts rummaging through his bag.
“What are you doing?” You pant, empty from his loss.
“Condom.” He says as he rummages frantically through the contents. “Fuck!” He mutters under his breath.
You sit up. “Pull out.” He looks at you, unsure. “I’m on the pill. I promise.”
You’re desperate now. He can’t leave you high and dry like that.
After a second to consider his options, he crawls back on the bed and grabs your face.
“Fuck it.” He mumbles.
Relief flows through you as his fingers find your cunt again, diving knuckle deep to make sure you’re ready - as if you could be anything but after everything.
When you finally are, he pushes your back down, lifting your hips to place a pillow under you.
“Relax for me sweetheart.”
Your heart is racing as he lines himself up, and when he pushes in, despite being slow and careful, you can’t help your breathing from stopping. The stretch burns, but it burns oh so good.
He places a kiss on your cleavage as he continues pushing in, the act proving challenging for him too. “Breathe, y/n, breathe.”
Just as before, your body obeys him without thinking and your lungs start working again as you gasp for air, just as he finally bottoms out.
“You’re so fucking tight…”
“You’re to-o big.” You whimper, making him chuckle.
Fuck he can’t get enough of you, which is the complete opposite of what he wanted this night to be, but he can’t stop. You feel too good - your smell, your taste, your sounds, your body, your skin, everything. He can’t get enough.
He starts thrusting into you without warning and you shriek.
You don’t know how, but he’s already hitting that perfect spot inside of you from the first go. Your eyes roll back and your jaw slacks as he continues pounding.
He stares at you - no, more like admires you, and with every thrust, he tries to take you farther.
His cock isn’t enough. Seeing your tits bounce like that makes him hungrier still, and he starts nipping at them again with his teeth, whilst one of his hands finds your throat. A chill runs down his back at the change of pitch in your voice from the sudden drop in oxygen, but the smile on your face tells him you’re just as into it as he is.
“You’re slutty aren’t you sweetheart?”
You nod a little, not even sure what you’re nodding to, just automatically responding to him.
“How’s that feel then?” He asks as his other hand finds the space between your two bodies and starts abusing your bundle of nerves once again.
You gasp.
How can he be everywhere all at once? Your brain doesn’t know what to focus on, each thrust knocking the wind out of you whilst his teeth remind you who’s inflicting this on you.
“Hongjoong - can’t, stop, please.” You cry out on the verge of breaking.
He would, he really would, if he wasn’t hearing your every moan and feeling every squeeze of your cunt around him.
“Yes you can sweetheart. C’me on. Take it for me. Just a lil’ more.” He whispers as he increases the friction on your clit, tightening around your throat a little.
You try so hard to do what he says because your body only responds to him now. Your shrieks and whimpers are growing increasingly louder the more he consumes you, but you don’t say anything, just biting your lip and fisting the sheets.
“That’s it, such a good girl f’r me. Look how well you take my cock.” He groans.
It’s all becoming too much.
With one hand on your throat, the other rubbing your clit with painful speed, his mouth sucking and biting your tits, his cock buried so deep inside you from the pillow under your hips, and his intoxicating praises, you start screaming.
His hand flies to your mouth.
“You gotta keep quiet.” A grunt. “Seonghwa and Yunho ‘re next door - don’t want ‘em disturbing us.” He smirks. “Wouldn’t want anyone ‘n live hearing you, would you sweetheart?”
This is the final straw for you. The pleasure is immense but the pressure of keeping quiet when he’s filling you up like that makes you cry. Hot tears stream down your face as you whimper strangled cries with every thrust.
For some weird reason, seeing you cry makes him want you more. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he does want to see how much more your body can take, captivated by every response you give.
His pace increases, the slapping of skin on skin filling the room. You’re trying to keep quiet, but you wonder if the others can just hear the movements as the bed starts rattling against the wall.
You feel the pillow under your head become more humid as your tears make a growing pool. It’s so confusing that you’re reacting this way when you’ve never felt more pleasure.
He grunts more and more against your skin from the effort of his rhythm, biting you a little harder than before - you squeal. He wasn’t even trying to, but he’s now branded your skin with an array of bite marks and fast evolving hickeys. You find the irony of not being able to do the same unfair.
He’s getting close to release, but he’s not ready to stop.
He kisses your lips sloppily, brain foggy as he tries to hold himself. His moans are getting more intense and it’s driving you insane how good he sounds.
“Turn around.”
His order is followed by him pulling out of you momentarily, flipping you on your stomach, adjusting the pillow under your hips, and plunging straight back into you.
You start screaming again, but this time he can just push your head into the soaked pillow. You don’t even fight him. You can’t. He’s hitting that spongy spot inside of you even harder than before and you’re starting to see stars, fingers and toes beginning to tingle as you go numb from pleasure.
His other hand comes under you to continue playing with your tits, his obsession nowhere near satiated. He kisses and bites your shoulders and back as he goes, the pounding becoming too much to handle even for him.
“‘re you gonn’ cum sweetheart? Can you do that f’r me?” He moans against your neck.
You barely have the energy to do it but you whimper a “yes” in the pillow.
“Say my name - y-yes who.”
“Yes Hong - fuck, ngh - Hongjoong.”
“Then cum.”
As if his request gave you permission, you explode around him, the wave of your orgasm consuming you entirely. He tries his best to muffle your screams in the pillow, but it can only do so much when you have no strength left in you to keep quiet.
The way your walls squeeze around him tips him over the edge too and he pulls out quickly, just in time to spurt out on your back, the hot liquid painting your skin with white. He can’t help himself either, his moans and whimpers mingling with yours.
It takes him a few seconds to register the situation again, the high lingering in his body.
When he comes down from it, he stands up from the bed slowly, heading to the bathroom. He comes back with a towel and some water, cleaning your back gently, the complete opposite to the unrelenting man who just wrecked you.
“Have some water.” He says, rubbing your back.
You don’t move though. You can’t. Not yet. The feeling is slowly coming back to your limbs and your heart is fighting to slow down.
“Y/n?” You can hear the worry in his voice at your lack of response. “Hey, are you okay?” He’s shaking your shoulder a little.
“Mmh.” You mumble into the pillow, the only thing you can say.
He breathes a sigh of relief. “God, don’t do this to me, I thought you’d passed out.”
“S’rry.” You babble.
Aware you’re not fully back to yourself, he helps you turn onto your back, sitting you up against the headboard.
He puts his joggers back on and lays a blanket on you as you start to shiver, before coming back with the brownie you never ate. You take it gratefully, splitting it in two and handing him the other half.
“I think I’m exhausted.” You chuckle lightly.
He laughs. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
You look at him sheepishly. “It is. A big one.”
He moves a strand of hair stuck to your forehead from sweat, and you take a moment to just look at each other. It’s such a bizarre situation to be in, but the nerves you had earlier are gone. This was by far the singular best experience of your life.
“Don’t worry.” You say. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He blushes and your heart jumps a little at the sight. “Sorry about that…”
“It’s okay, you didn’t force me to do this, I knew what it meant.”
“Well,” he hesitates, “for what it’s worth, I’m really glad you came. Literally and metaphorically.”
You chuckle as your cheeks heat up.
“Maybe it was a horrible idea in the long run,” he continues, “because I don’t know how I’ll be able to get you out of my head now.”
“I thought that was the whole point…”
A part of you wishes he’d say he wants you to stay, that he wants more, but you know that can’t happen.
“It was. The irony, huh?”
He gets up. “You’re gonna be okay if I leave you for a second?” He says, pointing to the bathroom.
You nod. “Of course, do what you have to do.”
As soon as the door shuts, you sigh.
Unknowingly, a small tear rolls down your cheek, the weight of the night finally dawning on you. You’ve never felt more connected to anyone in your life, and the knowledge that it has to end makes your chest pang. Knowing you’ll have to watch him from afar from now on, after what just happened, breaks your heart - but you know that’s how it has to be.
You rummage around the room, finding your scattered clothes, covering yourself back up. Moving is painful, your body protesting, but you push through. You’re hesitating on whether to leave without saying goodbye or not, when he comes out, sooner than you expected.
“What are you doing?” He quizzes as he catches you in the middle of zipping up your jeans.
“Going home?” Your answer is more of a question, like you’re asking him for permission.
“No you’re not.” He says sternly as he pulls out his phone. “It’s past 3am, you’ve had a drink, it’s cold, you’re not exactly dressed safely for public transports, and most importantly you’re exhausted. You said so yourself.”
“But-“
“This isn’t up for debate y/n. You’re staying here tonight.” His tone softens. “You don’t need to worry - I’ll call you a taxi in the morning, on me. And feel free to stay here as long as you’d like, I’ll pay for an extra night if you need, and anything you order will go on my card. Just… please, don’t leave.”
His pleading eyes win you over, and you try not to focus on how your stomach flips at how caring he is.
“Okay but… I don’t have anything…” you say, pointing to your outfit. “Also I have no makeup remover, o-or even a toothbrush!”
He walks towards his suitcase, pulling out a t-shirt and shorts.
“I think this should be comfortable enough to sleep in.” He says as he hands them to you. “As for the toothbrush and makeup remover, sweetheart, I’m an idol. I probably have more skincare than you.” He smirks. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll get it.”
—————-
It’s been two weeks, almost to the day, since your wild night with the captain of ATEEZ, and you think about it - about him - every day. You’ve not been able to look at footage of the new shows despite wanting to so badly, because the first time you saw him pass the mic in the crowd, you felt like crying, and you couldn’t explain why to anyone.
You never expected to feel such a pull to him after just one night, but he’s really made his mark on you - you still have the slight remnants of one or two deep hickeys to prove it.
To make matters worse, you still have his number.
You check it, multiple times a day, fingers hovering over the keys. Ultimately, you always end up locking your phone and throwing it away from you, sighing into your hands. You know you can’t, despite how much you want to.
Plus, he’s probably deleted your number by now.
As for him, the shows haven’t felt the same. Every night he checks the crowd, hoping he can spot you, miraculously, but you’re not there. He knows it’s not fair to expect you to come, especially when nothing was implied about following up the night. It’s not realistic, he knows that. His life is too busy, there’s no way it could work.
Still.
He opens his phone, the short conversation staring back at him.
He’s hesitated a few times already, knowing how horrible this idea is. It’s like two forces are pulling at him: his head - the rational part of him who knows this is wrong and would never work -, and his heart - the part of him that’s desperate to see you, just one more time.
You’re brushing your teeth, ignoring the notifications from your friends about tonight’s show highlights, when your phone lights up again. You look at it, sighing at the social media notifications of the concert.
In his room, Hongjoong’s heart sinks as the conversation now reads:
!⃝ Hey
Not delivered
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