diane

Backstage at a 5 Seconds of Summer show is exactly how anyone imagines it to be. There’s a lot of teasing—a plethora of creative dick jokes that you pretended weren’t as funny as they actually were.

You’re in your brother’s dressing room now, frantically scrubbing away at a stain on your shirt. The stark orange-red of the marinara stain only seems to spread the more you scrub, and you feel tears of frustration start to brim in your eyes.

Another thing that’s unfortunately too common backstage at one of the shows is falling victim to Michael’s lackadaisical attitude toward the world around him. Most of the time, he likes to pretend you don’t exist, and the other half, you end up being an unfortunate casualty of his pranks.

Today, Michael had the brilliant idea to throw a slice of pizza at Calum, who dodged it, barely batting an eye. However, it was you standing right behind him—with lackluster reflexes.

Then, the unfortunate incident happened.

Michael thought it was the funniest thing, bursting into laughter, doubling over and near tears at your startled yelp. The white blouse you wore was one of the few nice items of clothing you owned, and now it was ruined by a bright red stain that would probably never come off.

Biting the inside of your cheek to contain your huff of frustration, you keep scrubbing at the stain with a damp paper towel, but to no avail. The mess only grows, the stain expanding and being joined by small pieces of paper.

You huff, drop the fabric, shut your eyes, and force yourself to take a deep breath.

The door to the dressing room swings open, and Ashton prances in with an easy grin. “Hey,” he greets. At the sight of your furrowed brows and frown, he stops mid-step. “What’s got you on the verge of a breakdown now?”

You let out a frustrated groan, your throat suddenly tight. There’s no reason to cry, but the frustration—paired with the fact that you somehow always end up being Michael’s collateral—feels like the final straw.

Wordlessly, you point at the stain on your shirt, which seems to have doubled in size. Ashton blinks, tilting his head as he studies it.

“That’s a gnarly stain,” your brother whistles. “Whatcha do to get that?”

Another wave of anger surges through you. “Existed around Michael, apparently.”

Ashton chuckles to himself, scratching the back of his neck as he glances around the room. “You’re making that so much worse,” he sighs. “Just change into something else. Trust me.”

You cross your arms over your chest, looking at Ashton with an incredulous expression. “I don’t have a ride back to the hotel,” you start, taking a step closer to him. “And I don’t have a change of clothes. So tell me—are you trying to play fairy godmother here?”

Ashton rolls his eyes, turning on his heel as he rummages through the room. He’s a year older than you, but sometimes it feels like you’re the more mature one.

“Aha!” he cries, waving a shirt in the air like a truce flag. “See? You can wear this one!”

You raise an eyebrow, walking over to him slowly. You eye the fabric dangling from his fingers suspiciously, like it’s bound to burst into flames at any second.

“That’s a muscle tee,” you say slowly. “But it’s not yours.”

Ashton freezes. “It could be.”

“I don’t wanna wear your clothes.”

“Why not?”

You pause, pursing your lips. “Because you’re… you.”

Your brother lets out an indignant squeak, leveling you with a glare that has as much threat as a newborn baby’s. “It could be,” he huffs, then hesitates, biting his lower lip. “But it’s not.”

Narrowing your eyes, you step closer. “Whose is it?” you ask.

“It’s Michael’s,” Ashton shrugs, tossing the shirt at you.

You scramble to catch it, your fingers just barely snagging the corner before it hits the ground. “You want me to wear his shirt?” you echo, incredulous. “You know, most guys tend to be a little more… weirded out by their sisters wearing their bandmate’s clothing.”

Waving a dismissive hand, Ashton turns to the door. “It’s his fault your shirt got ruined,” he calls over his shoulder. “The least he can do is let you borrow one in the meantime. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

“But he hates me!” you whine, but the complaint falls on deaf ears as the door shuts behind him. You rub your eye with your knuckle hard enough to see colors, annoyance prickling your skin.

Fine. You’ll wear Michael’s shirt. If the asshole has a problem with it, he can take it up with Ashton later.

The fabric is soft beneath your fingertips, the colors slightly faded but surprisingly clean. It smells faintly of old cologne, worn at the edges. It might be a loose fit, but you can make it work.

With a dejected sigh, you grip the hem of your soiled shirt and pull it over your head, letting it fall carelessly into a heap at your feet.

Just as you’re about to slip the new shirt over your head, the door to the dressing room swings open.

“Fuck!” you yelp, scrambling to press the fabric to your chest. Your heart races, adrenaline flooding your veins as you turn to face the intruder.

Michael stands frozen in the doorway, his expression irritatingly unimpressed. His gaze flicks from the shirt clutched against your chest to the glimpses of bare skin.

“Dude, I’m changing,” you hiss, cheeks burning.

Michael snorts, turning away. “Not that impressive, don’t worry,” he mutters. “Why the hell do you have my shirt, anyway? You obsessed with me or somethin’?”

Your eyes narrow as you swallow down your embarrassment. “Can you go five minutes without being an absolute dick to me?”

To his credit, Michael actually turns around. Once his back is to you, you quickly pull the shirt down over your frame.

“Can I turn now, or are you gonna keep crying?” he asks, not even bothering to hide his exasperation.

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the couch. “Fine,” you sigh. “And for the record, I’m wearing your shirt because you ruined the one I already had on. Payback.”

When Michael turns around, his eyes find you. They widen—almost imperceptibly—as he takes in the sight of his shirt on your body. His jaw clenches, but whatever moment of weakness that was vanishes as quickly as it came.

Traitorously, your heart flutters at the realization.

For as long as you’ve known him, Michael has been nothing but a thorn in your side. Sometimes he barely acknowledges your existence, and other times he acknowledges it way too much. 

And every single time, your breath catches when those jade green eyes land squarely on you. Maybe it has some psychological explanation— the way your stomach tightens when he talks down to you with that lazy drawl, but yet you can’t help the way your body responds to his mere existence. 

The sliver of attraction is enough for every single one of his jabs to cut deep. 

“Still think it’s cause you’re a freak,” he shrugs, throwing himself down on the sofa with a soft groan. He’s avoiding looking at you, it’s obvious by the way he keeps his state fixated on a dilapidated part of the wall. 

You don’t move, crossing your arms so tightly around your chest you’re sure you’re about to suffocate. 

“Wait no,” he snaps his fingers, sitting up slightly. He leans on his knees, a smirk curling on his pink lips. His red hair is confined by a snapback, few stray strands standing out from beneath it. “I’m not Calum, so maybe you aren’t obsessed with me after all.”

You sputter, eyes going wide at the permanent smirk on his face. He leans back against the couch, arms draped over the top, one leg crossed over the other— the perfect picture of apathy.

“I never said I liked Calum,” you snap, patience wearing thin as you step forward. “You took that and ran with it. I was drunk and wondering if Ashton would have much of a say about me hypothetically liking one of his bandmates.”

Michael hums. “Tomato, tomahto,” he grins, tilting his head. His eyes glint with mirth— that beautiful green, entirely too intense for someone so infuriating.

You watch, annoyingly mesmerized, as his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. The action is thoughtless, but it still sends a shiver down your spine and a thrill through your bones.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, shrinking slightly under the weight of your own admission. “I’ve done nothing to you in the years I’ve known you— and yet just the fact that I breathe seems to send you over the edge.”

The smirk on Michael’s face falters for a moment before he pushes himself off the couch. When he stands at full height, he towers over you.

“Have you ever met someone so grating that no matter what they do or say, you just want them to shut the fuck up?” he asks, his eyes flicking down your body. For a second, his pupils widen. “It’s nothing you did. It’s just you.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” you gasp, affronted.

Michael huffs, shaking his head. He looks amused—like your outrage is just another joke for him to toy with. Still, after years of passive-aggressive jabs, of always being the punchline, of being ridiculed by the one person you actually want, something in you finally snaps.

“God, you’re so insufferable,” you bite out, hands trembling at your sides. “You think because girls want you—because they scream your name and throw themselves at you—you can just treat me like I’m a piece of shit.”

“Girls do want me,” Michael says easily, lowering his head as a soft chuckle escapes him. The brim of his snapback grazes the sliver barbell in his eyebrow—the one that somehow makes every smirk, every look, even more intoxicating. “You want me.”

You let out a strangled scream. Michael looks unbearably smug, gazing down at you as he revels in every second of your unraveling. Every nerve in your body is lit up—ready to spark at the slightest provocation.

Then you step closer, tilting your chin up until your eyes lock. The breath catches in your throat, your heart stuttering in your chest when you find him already looking at you.

Up close, you can see the faint dusting of hair along his jaw, the exact shade of pink that colors his lips. He’s beautiful, wielding his looks like a weapon—and you’re so willing to get cut it’s almost pathetic.

When your gaze flicks down to his mouth, reason slips away. Pure impulse drives you forward, and before you know it, your lips are pressed against Michael’s.

The kiss is brief—just a brush of lips before the weight of reality comes crashing down. You inhale sharply, jerking back like the contact burned you.

Your stomach churns, embarrassment flooding your skin as your throat tightens. You scramble for an excuse, a joke, a comeback—anything—but your mind is a blank slate.

“I—” you start, but the word dies in your throat.

Michael’s eyes darken, and he exhales a low, amused breath. “I knew you were obsessed with me,” he growls, gripping your chin before crashing his lips back onto yours.

His mouth is hot against yours, and you let out a startled gasp that’s quickly swallowed by him. He nips at your bottom lip, drawing it between his teeth with a soft, deliberate suck as his other hand finds your waist.

Your knees threaten to give out, but you clutch at his shirt, holding yourself upright. Slowly, your lips move with his—matching the same desperate, hungry rhythm you’ve been dreaming of for years. 

His hands grip your hips as he backs you against the wall; you hit it with a soft thud, just as Michael’s hand comes up to grip your neck.

You inhale sharply, eyes blinking wide as he pulls away from you. You’re both breathing heavily, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, slightly wet from you.

“So, who knew that was the only way to shut you up,” he growls, dipping his head to kiss a path down your jaw. His lips leave behind a trail of fire, and your head swims. “Should’ve figured it out sooner—could’ve saved me a couple of headaches.”

His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, the calloused digits leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shiver, biting back a moan—your entire body responds to him like a live wire.

When he reaches the clasp of your bra, he undoes it with a skilled flick of his wrist. The fabric falls to your waist, and Michael doesn’t waste any time taking it off you.

The muscle tee’s arm cutouts are so wide you’re barely covered, and when his large hand returns to your waist, you shiver in anticipation.

“Please.” The word is a gasp, nearly lost in the intensity swirling between the two of you. Michael’s hand rises slowly, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

“Poor baby,” he coos. “So desperate to be touched. Do you make a habit of being this pathetic, or is this just a ‘me’ special?”

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but the pressure between your legs—and the overwhelming fact that Michael Clifford is kissing you, touching you—is enough to leave you gasping.

You bite your lip, holding back a whimper as his hand finally cups your breast, thumb brushing over your pert nipple. A zap of pleasure races down your spine, and you let out a small mewl.

“No,” Michael tuts. “If you’re gonna embarrass yourself, might as well commit. Be loud—wanna hear you.”

This time, he pinches your nipple, hard enough to make you cry out in a hazy mix of pain and pleasure. You’re trembling in his arms as his lips return to yours, hips rutting into yours mindlessly.

Abruptly, Michael pulls away. You whine at the sudden loss of contact, your head still spinning as you blink yourself back into reality.

Michael walks backward until he’s seated on the couch again, eyes alight with challenge. There’s intent in them—mischief that never really leaves.

He smirks. “Strip.”

Blinking, you fight the urge to cross your arms over your chest. It’s cold, and every drag of Michael’s shirt against your already sensitive skin feels overwhelming.

“Wh-what?” you stammer, breath catching.

“You heard me,” he drawls. “Strip. Everything but the shirt. Then come here.” He taps his thigh expectantly, and the self-assured nature of the motion makes you dizzy all over again.

Shakily, you reach for the button of your jeans and undo it with ease. Michael’s eyes follow your every move, drinking you in like a man starved.

When your zipper slides down, the sound is deafening. Slowly, you hook your fingers into the waistband of your jeans and underwear, peeling them down your legs until they pool at your feet.

You kick them aside, suddenly grateful that Michael’s shirt is long enough to keep you modest. When you glance back at him, you catch the slight shift in his expression—his composure faltering ever so slightly.

You tread carefully toward him, straddling his thigh like he told you, but hover just above it.

“You’d do anything I tell you to, hmm?” he taunts, his hand flying to your waist. Without warning, he forces you down, your bare core brushing against the rough denim of his jeans.

You gasp, hands shooting to his shoulders for support.

“Ride my fucking thigh,” he hisses. “Desperate little thing—work for it. Not touching you until you cry for it.”

“Michael—”

He cuts you off by grinding your hips down, the friction against your clit sharp and intoxicating. You moan, and he grips your face again.

“Don’t talk. Good sluts don’t speak unless they’re asked to.”

You nod, inhaling shakily as you begin to move your hips just like he wants. Each drag against the fabric feels like heaven—but it’s not enough. Your clit is swollen, aching, throbbing with the need for release.

Rolling your hips, you dig your fingers into Michael’s shoulder. He lets out a hiss but doesn’t stop you—one hand gripping your hip, bunching the shirt around your waist so he can see the mess you’re making on his leg.

It’s his other hand that makes you dizzy, trailing up your spine with reverence, rubbing gentle circles—spurring you on. You moan, eyes fluttering.

“Michael—”

He tightens his grip on your hip. “You better make yourself come,” he whispers, the command hitting your skin like ice. “Otherwise you don’t get my cock—not until you shut up and cry pretty for me.”

You whimper, hips moving faster.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “Be the pathetic little thing I know you are, soaking my jeans like a needy whore—is that what you wanted, hmm?”

He leans closer, his lips catching on your collarbone. “You’re kind of pretty when you do what you’re told,” he hums, the hand on your hip sliding up to push the shirt higher and expose your chest.

When his lips wrap around your nipple, your mind goes blank. You gasp, grinding harder. The pleasure coiling in your stomach grows with every movement, and when his teeth sink into your skin, you scream.

“You’ll just let me do anything I want, huh?” he smiles—an almost sweet expression. His lips are soft, kissing the tender skin between words. “All that fucking talking—all of that just for some attention.”

You’re getting closer; you can feel the heat building, reaching every nerve in your body and painting it with Michael. He’s fully dressed, looking up at you with something like awe in his eyes.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks, lifting his head. He catches your chin, coaxing you to look at him with a gentle knuckle. “Gonna beg all nice and pretty?”

“Mikey—” you sob, the frantic rhythm of your hips picking up. “Please, I wanna come, just wanna be good for you—”

“Oh, look at that,” he muses. “So eager for me to talk to you like this. So eager to fall apart on my lap.”

His thigh flexes, the muscle tensing just enough to give you the stability you need. In a matter of seconds, your breath stutters, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as pleasure slams into you.

You scream, convulsing against his thigh as every wave of your orgasm crashes over you. You’re a gasping mess, babbling nonsense, your ears ringing with the force of it.

Your chest heaves with every breath as you slowly lift yourself off his thigh. Your legs feel weak, the world almost too bright around the edges.

“Look at that,” Michael says, almost lazily, glancing down at the wet spot darkening the black denim. “What a mess. All that from grinding on my lap? God, you’re such a dumb slut, huh?”

He chuckles, slipping his hand between your thighs. When his fingers find your slick, you let out a hiccuping breath. He collects some of your release, the fluid glistening on his fingers.

“All it took was one orgasm and now you’re brainless,” he tuts, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. His breath hitches at the taste. “Do you even have a thought in that little dumb brain of yours? Or are you just cock-drunk?”

You swallow. “No,” you rasp, voice hoarse. “Just want you to fuck me stupid.”

“Oh, baby,” Michael grins, slipping his hand between your thighs again. “I fuckin’ plan to.”

He flips you without warning, your back landing on the couch with a soft thud. He hovers over you, silver chain dangling above your face like a threat.

“But first,” he murmurs, brushing the sweaty strands of hair away from your face, “I want you to thank me. I didn’t have to make you come, y’know? Could’ve just fucked you—used you like the hole you are to me. But I was so nice.”

His fingers wrap gently around your neck—delicate, almost tender—but the intention is unmistakable.

“Say thank you, Y/N,” he urges. “Say, ‘Thank you for letting me come on your thigh like a pathetic whore.’”

The words are humiliating, so demeaning that under any other circumstance, you’d spit in Michael’s face and tear him down without blinking. But something stops you—the heat blooming in your belly again, the way his thumb softly caresses your jaw.

“Thank you,” you say slowly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “For letting me come on your thigh like a pathetic slut.”

His hand snakes between your legs, two fingers teasing your entrance. “Already wet again?” Michael smirks. “Of course you are. You’re pathetic.”

You whine, but it isn’t long before he plunges his fingers inside you. Your back arches off the couch as he curls them, hitting that perfect spot that turns your brain to static.

“Who knew dumb little things like you had such pretty little cunts,” he hums, his thumb circling your clit. “All swollen and dripping, and I’ve barely even touched you.”

Faintly, you hear the clink of a belt buckle being undone. You blink through the haze, trying to focus past the overwhelming pulse of pleasure from his hand.

He’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you fast, his thumb keeping perfect rhythm on your clit. With his other hand, he works his belt free from the loops, pulling it out in one smooth motion that shouldn’t look as devastatingly hot as it does.

“Keep fucking yourself on my fingers,” he says.

It takes a few seconds for the command to register in your brain, but then your hips begin to move, picking up the pace as Michael drops his hand. Every pump of his fingers is intoxicating, his free hand roaming your leg, his head dipping occasionally to kiss your overheated skin.

Somehow, that seems to affect you more than anything else.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks. “Want me to stretch you out, see how this greedy cunt swallows me whole?”

You nod.

Michael withdraws his fingers, and the sudden loss is so jarring your body goes cold. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as he walks over to your discarded pants and untangles your panties from them.

You blink, body spinning with the possibilities. Michael walks back to you, crouching until your faces are level. His pupils are blown wide, and a faint flush colors his cheeks.

He leans in, catching your mouth in a kiss so tender it steals the air from your lungs. Your hand rises to cup the back of his head, fingers threading into the red strands.

He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours for a beat. “Open your mouth, princess,” he whispers, breathless.

You obey, anticipation curling through you. Gently, Michael lifts your discarded underwear and stuffs it into your mouth.

The act is surprisingly tender, but still, you’re stunned. You gape at Michael as he stands above you, carefully undoing his jeans.

“Look at how pathetic,” he murmurs, leaning down just enough to catch the hem of your shirt and lift it slightly. His finger traces the planes of your stomach, drawn tight with excitement. “Laid out like a whore, practically begging me to do something.”

You whimper, the sound muffled and catching in your throat as he withdraws his hand. He tugs down his jeans, followed by his underwear, until he springs free.

The thick length of him is enough to make your eyes threaten to roll back in your skull, but you stay carefully still.

He wraps a hand around himself, pumping lazily as he circles you like a predator, waiting to strike. When his thumb brushes over the tip, he lets out the most delicious little hiss—one that you feel all the way down to your toes.

You almost whine when he lets go of his cock, picking up the belt he left forgotten on the couch. He wraps the studded leather around your wrists, snug enough that you can’t fight it.

“You’re gonna lay there and take this fucking cock like useless hole you are for me,” he climbs onto the couch, lowering himself enough to tease. 

Michael nudges your legs apart, exposing your slick core. You’re clenching around nothing, drenched in desperation as you wait for him to do something. 

He leans over you, one hand braced on the couch cushions beside your head. Carefully, he drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, groaning. 

“God all it took was for me to be mean to you, and you're already a fucking mess,” he toys with your entrance, the only sign of him being affected is the slight rasp beneath his words. “My fucking mess to do as I please with. Isn’t that right?”

You nod, lifting your hips as you desperately search for some kind of release. 

Michael doesn’t waste any more time, thrusting into you fully with a harsh snap of his hips. You cry out, back arching off the couch at the brutal stretch, the sound muffled behind the fabric stuffed in your mouth.

He pulls back just enough for you to feel the unbearable emptiness—only to slam back inside with a filthy moan that makes you groan past the gag. Michael’s eyes flutter as he sets a brutal pace, hips snapping into yours with purpose.

“Gripping me so fucking right,” he grits. “It’s all you’re good for—milking my cock. God knows you don’t have the brain for anything else.”

He collapses over you, nosing along the side of your jaw. “Look at you,” he pants. “All ruined, all spread out for me, taking my cock like you’re meant to. Bet you’d let anyone do this, hmm?”

When he shifts angles, hitting that devastating spot inside you that sends your vision to static, all his filthy words only push you closer. You clench around him involuntarily.

Michael growls and yanks the belt tighter, using it as leverage to drag you down on him harder. Each thrust rocks the couch, your breasts bouncing with every sharp snap of his hips.

“You don’t even look human,” he mutters, sweat slicking his brow. “Just something for me to fuck and throw away. Isn’t that right?”

He punctuates the cruelty with his thumb pressing to your clit. One leg jerks in response, the tight, filthy circles he rubs making the pressure inside you mount unbearably.

His hips piston against yours, the obscene sound of skin on skin filling the room. One hand presses to your lower stomach, and the weight of it makes you choke on a moan.

“Can feel myself here,” he groans. “Bet that’s why you’re so needy. Never had your pussy stretched properly.”

You’re close—so close—body shaking, nerves shot, the build-up like fire licking beneath your skin. You sob behind the gag, the edge creeping nearer with every relentless thrust.

“Gonna come for me?” he asks, his thumb moving faster in tandem with his hips. “Gonna do the only thing you’re good for and soak my cock?”

You manage a shaky nod, tears slipping down your cheeks as your orgasm barrels toward you like a freight train.

“Cry all you want, baby,” he growls. “I’m not stopping ‘til you’re dripping with me.”

With one sharp thrust, he pushes you over the edge.

Your legs lock around him, your hands pulling against the belt as your orgasm rips through you. The studded leather digs into your wrists, the sweet medley of pain and pleasure only heightening every wave of release that crashes over you.

Your blood feels like molasses in your veins, and you heave for breath. The fog behind your eyes begins to clear, and slowly, you come back to yourself. But Michael doesn’t stop.

You’re oversensitive, still twitching from the aftermath of your orgasm. Fresh tears blur your vision, and Michael grips your chin.

“You’re not done until I say you’re done,” he grunts.

He lets go, his hand caressing your cheek—then suddenly slapping it. The sting lands like ecstasy, and you clench around him.

Michael takes that as a green light to do it again, slapping you once more. Your back arches off the couch, and you're still crying. The cool tears trail down your overheated skin in stark contrast.

He releases the belt, your arms dropping limply at your sides. But he doesn’t slow—his hands slide under your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest.

This new angle makes everything deeper, sharper. You haven’t stopped crying, but you haven’t stopped moaning either. Michael’s spurred on by the sound of your slick, by the way your cunt flutters around him.

A choked sob escapes you, and despite the overstimulation, you feel it building again—another orgasm curling in your belly like fire.

“That’s right,” Michael growls. “You’re gonna come again for me. Bet I don’t even need to touch your clit, huh? Bet you can come just from my cock like a good little whore.”

He grins down at you, eyes wild and shining. The tears have started to pool beneath your head, soaking the couch. Your skin is slick with sweat, your whole body trembling, but the pleasure only builds.

“There she is,” he breathes. “My dumb little thing. Just needed to be fucked stupid, isn’t that right? Needed someone who actually knows what to do with you.”

Your hand shoots up to grip his arm, nails digging into the taut muscle of his bicep. He doesn’t flinch. His thrusts grow more erratic, but every one still finds that devastating spot inside you.

“Come for me,” he urges, voice going sweeter, coaxing. “C’mon, be good f’me, baby. Come for me so I can fill this pretty pussy up the way you need.”

And finally—you break.

The world drops out from beneath you, leaving only the white-hot spiral of your orgasm tearing through you. You wail around the gag, body shaking violently beneath him.

Michael’s hips stutter, and he lets out a ragged moan. “Oh, fuck. You feel so fucking good,” he groans, head dropping. “Gonna come—shit—”

The strangled moan that claws out of his throat is the only warning you get as Michael empties himself inside you. He keeps up the shallow thrusts, twitching as you wring him dry.

You’re both shaking now, sweaty and high on adrenaline. For the first time, your mind starts to clear. Panic spikes when the weight of the situation settles in—when you catch sight of your discarded shirt and pants.

Your cheeks heat, and you’re about to scramble for a response when there’s a sharp rap at the door. “Stage in fifteen,” someone calls.

Michael freezes, looking down at you for a moment. “Fuck,” he curses, scrambling to get off you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ashton is so gonna beat my ass if he finds me here.”

He lets out a hiss as he slips out of you, hastily pushing off the couch as he hops back into his skinny jeans. He tucks himself into his pants without preamble, scanning the room for anything he might’ve missed.

When Michael’s eyes land on you, you half expect him to make a mean quip or just ignore you. Instead, you’re surprised when he leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then your lips, and hands you a half-empty water bottle.

He looks down at the plastic bottle, a little sheepish. “Uh, I’ll find you after the show,” he says, pulling his belt back through the loops as he gets up.

When Michael reaches the door, he turns back to you. “Sorry I can’t help much, but, uh—” he picks something up from the floor and throws it at you. “Yeah. Okay, see you.”

He shoots you an awkward smile before slipping out the door. You sit up, wincing slightly. Your body is tender from the events of the day, raw in the best of ways.

Part of you is a little smug, too—satisfied after seeing the sudden shift in Michael. Gone was the vindictive, sharp-tongued guitarist who seemed to have girls falling at his feet at every turn.

The only thing left was the fading façade—revealing the obsessed, but almost adorably flustered boy beneath the mask. You didn’t miss the subtle tenderness in his actions, and for a second, you wonder how the aftermath would’ve played out if he hadn’t had to be brisked away.

You shake your head, feeling the sticky mess of your releases beginning to seep out of you. When you grab whatever it was Michael had thrown at you to clean up, your eye catches on a bright red stain.

Your ruined shirt.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Backstage at a 5 Seconds of Summer show is exactly how anyone imagines it to be. There’s a lot of teasing—a plethora of creative dick jokes that you pretended weren’t as funny as they actually were.

You’re in your brother’s dressing room now, frantically scrubbing away at a stain on your shirt. The stark orange-red of the marinara stain only seems to spread the more you scrub, and you feel tears of frustration start to brim in your eyes.

Another thing that’s unfortunately too common backstage at one of the shows is falling victim to Michael’s lackadaisical attitude toward the world around him. Most of the time, he likes to pretend you don’t exist, and the other half, you end up being an unfortunate casualty of his pranks.

Today, Michael had the brilliant idea to throw a slice of pizza at Calum, who dodged it, barely batting an eye. However, it was you standing right behind him—with lackluster reflexes.

Then, the unfortunate incident happened.

Michael thought it was the funniest thing, bursting into laughter, doubling over and near tears at your startled yelp. The white blouse you wore was one of the few nice items of clothing you owned, and now it was ruined by a bright red stain that would probably never come off.

Biting the inside of your cheek to contain your huff of frustration, you keep scrubbing at the stain with a damp paper towel, but to no avail. The mess only grows, the stain expanding and being joined by small pieces of paper.

You huff, drop the fabric, shut your eyes, and force yourself to take a deep breath.

The door to the dressing room swings open, and Ashton prances in with an easy grin. “Hey,” he greets. At the sight of your furrowed brows and frown, he stops mid-step. “What’s got you on the verge of a breakdown now?”

You let out a frustrated groan, your throat suddenly tight. There’s no reason to cry, but the frustration—paired with the fact that you somehow always end up being Michael’s collateral—feels like the final straw.

Wordlessly, you point at the stain on your shirt, which seems to have doubled in size. Ashton blinks, tilting his head as he studies it.

“That’s a gnarly stain,” your brother whistles. “Whatcha do to get that?”

Another wave of anger surges through you. “Existed around Michael, apparently.”

Ashton chuckles to himself, scratching the back of his neck as he glances around the room. “You’re making that so much worse,” he sighs. “Just change into something else. Trust me.”

You cross your arms over your chest, looking at Ashton with an incredulous expression. “I don’t have a ride back to the hotel,” you start, taking a step closer to him. “And I don’t have a change of clothes. So tell me—are you trying to play fairy godmother here?”

Ashton rolls his eyes, turning on his heel as he rummages through the room. He’s a year older than you, but sometimes it feels like you’re the more mature one.

“Aha!” he cries, waving a shirt in the air like a truce flag. “See? You can wear this one!”

You raise an eyebrow, walking over to him slowly. You eye the fabric dangling from his fingers suspiciously, like it’s bound to burst into flames at any second.

“That’s a muscle tee,” you say slowly. “But it’s not yours.”

Ashton freezes. “It could be.”

“I don’t wanna wear your clothes.”

“Why not?”

You pause, pursing your lips. “Because you’re… you.”

Your brother lets out an indignant squeak, leveling you with a glare that has as much threat as a newborn baby’s. “It could be,” he huffs, then hesitates, biting his lower lip. “But it’s not.”

Narrowing your eyes, you step closer. “Whose is it?” you ask.

“It’s Michael’s,” Ashton shrugs, tossing the shirt at you.

You scramble to catch it, your fingers just barely snagging the corner before it hits the ground. “You want me to wear his shirt?” you echo, incredulous. “You know, most guys tend to be a little more… weirded out by their sisters wearing their bandmate’s clothing.”

Waving a dismissive hand, Ashton turns to the door. “It’s his fault your shirt got ruined,” he calls over his shoulder. “The least he can do is let you borrow one in the meantime. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

“But he hates me!” you whine, but the complaint falls on deaf ears as the door shuts behind him. You rub your eye with your knuckle hard enough to see colors, annoyance prickling your skin.

Fine. You’ll wear Michael’s shirt. If the asshole has a problem with it, he can take it up with Ashton later.

The fabric is soft beneath your fingertips, the colors slightly faded but surprisingly clean. It smells faintly of old cologne, worn at the edges. It might be a loose fit, but you can make it work.

With a dejected sigh, you grip the hem of your soiled shirt and pull it over your head, letting it fall carelessly into a heap at your feet.

Just as you’re about to slip the new shirt over your head, the door to the dressing room swings open.

“Fuck!” you yelp, scrambling to press the fabric to your chest. Your heart races, adrenaline flooding your veins as you turn to face the intruder.

Michael stands frozen in the doorway, his expression irritatingly unimpressed. His gaze flicks from the shirt clutched against your chest to the glimpses of bare skin.

“Dude, I’m changing,” you hiss, cheeks burning.

Michael snorts, turning away. “Not that impressive, don’t worry,” he mutters. “Why the hell do you have my shirt, anyway? You obsessed with me or somethin’?”

Your eyes narrow as you swallow down your embarrassment. “Can you go five minutes without being an absolute dick to me?”

To his credit, Michael actually turns around. Once his back is to you, you quickly pull the shirt down over your frame.

“Can I turn now, or are you gonna keep crying?” he asks, not even bothering to hide his exasperation.

Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the couch. “Fine,” you sigh. “And for the record, I’m wearing your shirt because you ruined the one I already had on. Payback.”

When Michael turns around, his eyes find you. They widen—almost imperceptibly—as he takes in the sight of his shirt on your body. His jaw clenches, but whatever moment of weakness that was vanishes as quickly as it came.

Traitorously, your heart flutters at the realization.

For as long as you’ve known him, Michael has been nothing but a thorn in your side. Sometimes he barely acknowledges your existence, and other times he acknowledges it way too much. 

And every single time, your breath catches when those jade green eyes land squarely on you. Maybe it has some psychological explanation— the way your stomach tightens when he talks down to you with that lazy drawl, but yet you can’t help the way your body responds to his mere existence. 

The sliver of attraction is enough for every single one of his jabs to cut deep. 

“Still think it’s cause you’re a freak,” he shrugs, throwing himself down on the sofa with a soft groan. He’s avoiding looking at you, it’s obvious by the way he keeps his state fixated on a dilapidated part of the wall. 

You don’t move, crossing your arms so tightly around your chest you’re sure you’re about to suffocate. 

“Wait no,” he snaps his fingers, sitting up slightly. He leans on his knees, a smirk curling on his pink lips. His red hair is confined by a snapback, few stray strands standing out from beneath it. “I’m not Calum, so maybe you aren’t obsessed with me after all.”

You sputter, eyes going wide at the permanent smirk on his face. He leans back against the couch, arms draped over the top, one leg crossed over the other— the perfect picture of apathy.

“I never said I liked Calum,” you snap, patience wearing thin as you step forward. “You took that and ran with it. I was drunk and wondering if Ashton would have much of a say about me hypothetically liking one of his bandmates.”

Michael hums. “Tomato, tomahto,” he grins, tilting his head. His eyes glint with mirth— that beautiful green, entirely too intense for someone so infuriating.

You watch, annoyingly mesmerized, as his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip. The action is thoughtless, but it still sends a shiver down your spine and a thrill through your bones.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, shrinking slightly under the weight of your own admission. “I’ve done nothing to you in the years I’ve known you— and yet just the fact that I breathe seems to send you over the edge.”

The smirk on Michael’s face falters for a moment before he pushes himself off the couch. When he stands at full height, he towers over you.

“Have you ever met someone so grating that no matter what they do or say, you just want them to shut the fuck up?” he asks, his eyes flicking down your body. For a second, his pupils widen. “It’s nothing you did. It’s just you.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” you gasp, affronted.

Michael huffs, shaking his head. He looks amused—like your outrage is just another joke for him to toy with. Still, after years of passive-aggressive jabs, of always being the punchline, of being ridiculed by the one person you actually want, something in you finally snaps.

“God, you’re so insufferable,” you bite out, hands trembling at your sides. “You think because girls want you—because they scream your name and throw themselves at you—you can just treat me like I’m a piece of shit.”

“Girls do want me,” Michael says easily, lowering his head as a soft chuckle escapes him. The brim of his snapback grazes the sliver barbell in his eyebrow—the one that somehow makes every smirk, every look, even more intoxicating. “You want me.”

You let out a strangled scream. Michael looks unbearably smug, gazing down at you as he revels in every second of your unraveling. Every nerve in your body is lit up—ready to spark at the slightest provocation.

Then you step closer, tilting your chin up until your eyes lock. The breath catches in your throat, your heart stuttering in your chest when you find him already looking at you.

Up close, you can see the faint dusting of hair along his jaw, the exact shade of pink that colors his lips. He’s beautiful, wielding his looks like a weapon—and you’re so willing to get cut it’s almost pathetic.

When your gaze flicks down to his mouth, reason slips away. Pure impulse drives you forward, and before you know it, your lips are pressed against Michael’s.

The kiss is brief—just a brush of lips before the weight of reality comes crashing down. You inhale sharply, jerking back like the contact burned you.

Your stomach churns, embarrassment flooding your skin as your throat tightens. You scramble for an excuse, a joke, a comeback—anything—but your mind is a blank slate.

“I—” you start, but the word dies in your throat.

Michael’s eyes darken, and he exhales a low, amused breath. “I knew you were obsessed with me,” he growls, gripping your chin before crashing his lips back onto yours.

His mouth is hot against yours, and you let out a startled gasp that’s quickly swallowed by him. He nips at your bottom lip, drawing it between his teeth with a soft, deliberate suck as his other hand finds your waist.

Your knees threaten to give out, but you clutch at his shirt, holding yourself upright. Slowly, your lips move with his—matching the same desperate, hungry rhythm you’ve been dreaming of for years. 

His hands grip your hips as he backs you against the wall; you hit it with a soft thud, just as Michael’s hand comes up to grip your neck.

You inhale sharply, eyes blinking wide as he pulls away from you. You’re both breathing heavily, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, slightly wet from you.

“So, who knew that was the only way to shut you up,” he growls, dipping his head to kiss a path down your jaw. His lips leave behind a trail of fire, and your head swims. “Should’ve figured it out sooner—could’ve saved me a couple of headaches.”

His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, the calloused digits leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shiver, biting back a moan—your entire body responds to him like a live wire.

When he reaches the clasp of your bra, he undoes it with a skilled flick of his wrist. The fabric falls to your waist, and Michael doesn’t waste any time taking it off you.

The muscle tee’s arm cutouts are so wide you’re barely covered, and when his large hand returns to your waist, you shiver in anticipation.

“Please.” The word is a gasp, nearly lost in the intensity swirling between the two of you. Michael’s hand rises slowly, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

“Poor baby,” he coos. “So desperate to be touched. Do you make a habit of being this pathetic, or is this just a ‘me’ special?”

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for, but the pressure between your legs—and the overwhelming fact that Michael Clifford is kissing you, touching you—is enough to leave you gasping.

You bite your lip, holding back a whimper as his hand finally cups your breast, thumb brushing over your pert nipple. A zap of pleasure races down your spine, and you let out a small mewl.

“No,” Michael tuts. “If you’re gonna embarrass yourself, might as well commit. Be loud—wanna hear you.”

This time, he pinches your nipple, hard enough to make you cry out in a hazy mix of pain and pleasure. You’re trembling in his arms as his lips return to yours, hips rutting into yours mindlessly.

Abruptly, Michael pulls away. You whine at the sudden loss of contact, your head still spinning as you blink yourself back into reality.

Michael walks backward until he’s seated on the couch again, eyes alight with challenge. There’s intent in them—mischief that never really leaves.

He smirks. “Strip.”

Blinking, you fight the urge to cross your arms over your chest. It’s cold, and every drag of Michael’s shirt against your already sensitive skin feels overwhelming.

“Wh-what?” you stammer, breath catching.

“You heard me,” he drawls. “Strip. Everything but the shirt. Then come here.” He taps his thigh expectantly, and the self-assured nature of the motion makes you dizzy all over again.

Shakily, you reach for the button of your jeans and undo it with ease. Michael’s eyes follow your every move, drinking you in like a man starved.

When your zipper slides down, the sound is deafening. Slowly, you hook your fingers into the waistband of your jeans and underwear, peeling them down your legs until they pool at your feet.

You kick them aside, suddenly grateful that Michael’s shirt is long enough to keep you modest. When you glance back at him, you catch the slight shift in his expression—his composure faltering ever so slightly.

You tread carefully toward him, straddling his thigh like he told you, but hover just above it.

“You’d do anything I tell you to, hmm?” he taunts, his hand flying to your waist. Without warning, he forces you down, your bare core brushing against the rough denim of his jeans.

You gasp, hands shooting to his shoulders for support.

“Ride my fucking thigh,” he hisses. “Desperate little thing—work for it. Not touching you until you cry for it.”

“Michael—”

He cuts you off by grinding your hips down, the friction against your clit sharp and intoxicating. You moan, and he grips your face again.

“Don’t talk. Good sluts don’t speak unless they’re asked to.”

You nod, inhaling shakily as you begin to move your hips just like he wants. Each drag against the fabric feels like heaven—but it’s not enough. Your clit is swollen, aching, throbbing with the need for release.

Rolling your hips, you dig your fingers into Michael’s shoulder. He lets out a hiss but doesn’t stop you—one hand gripping your hip, bunching the shirt around your waist so he can see the mess you’re making on his leg.

It’s his other hand that makes you dizzy, trailing up your spine with reverence, rubbing gentle circles—spurring you on. You moan, eyes fluttering.

“Michael—”

He tightens his grip on your hip. “You better make yourself come,” he whispers, the command hitting your skin like ice. “Otherwise you don’t get my cock—not until you shut up and cry pretty for me.”

You whimper, hips moving faster.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “Be the pathetic little thing I know you are, soaking my jeans like a needy whore—is that what you wanted, hmm?”

He leans closer, his lips catching on your collarbone. “You’re kind of pretty when you do what you’re told,” he hums, the hand on your hip sliding up to push the shirt higher and expose your chest.

When his lips wrap around your nipple, your mind goes blank. You gasp, grinding harder. The pleasure coiling in your stomach grows with every movement, and when his teeth sink into your skin, you scream.

“You’ll just let me do anything I want, huh?” he smiles—an almost sweet expression. His lips are soft, kissing the tender skin between words. “All that fucking talking—all of that just for some attention.”

You’re getting closer; you can feel the heat building, reaching every nerve in your body and painting it with Michael. He’s fully dressed, looking up at you with something like awe in his eyes.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks, lifting his head. He catches your chin, coaxing you to look at him with a gentle knuckle. “Gonna beg all nice and pretty?”

“Mikey—” you sob, the frantic rhythm of your hips picking up. “Please, I wanna come, just wanna be good for you—”

“Oh, look at that,” he muses. “So eager for me to talk to you like this. So eager to fall apart on my lap.”

His thigh flexes, the muscle tensing just enough to give you the stability you need. In a matter of seconds, your breath stutters, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as pleasure slams into you.

You scream, convulsing against his thigh as every wave of your orgasm crashes over you. You’re a gasping mess, babbling nonsense, your ears ringing with the force of it.

Your chest heaves with every breath as you slowly lift yourself off his thigh. Your legs feel weak, the world almost too bright around the edges.

“Look at that,” Michael says, almost lazily, glancing down at the wet spot darkening the black denim. “What a mess. All that from grinding on my lap? God, you’re such a dumb slut, huh?”

He chuckles, slipping his hand between your thighs. When his fingers find your slick, you let out a hiccuping breath. He collects some of your release, the fluid glistening on his fingers.

“All it took was one orgasm and now you’re brainless,” he tuts, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. His breath hitches at the taste. “Do you even have a thought in that little dumb brain of yours? Or are you just cock-drunk?”

You swallow. “No,” you rasp, voice hoarse. “Just want you to fuck me stupid.”

“Oh, baby,” Michael grins, slipping his hand between your thighs again. “I fuckin’ plan to.”

He flips you without warning, your back landing on the couch with a soft thud. He hovers over you, silver chain dangling above your face like a threat.

“But first,” he murmurs, brushing the sweaty strands of hair away from your face, “I want you to thank me. I didn’t have to make you come, y’know? Could’ve just fucked you—used you like the hole you are to me. But I was so nice.”

His fingers wrap gently around your neck—delicate, almost tender—but the intention is unmistakable.

“Say thank you, Y/N,” he urges. “Say, ‘Thank you for letting me come on your thigh like a pathetic whore.’”

The words are humiliating, so demeaning that under any other circumstance, you’d spit in Michael’s face and tear him down without blinking. But something stops you—the heat blooming in your belly again, the way his thumb softly caresses your jaw.

“Thank you,” you say slowly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “For letting me come on your thigh like a pathetic slut.”

His hand snakes between your legs, two fingers teasing your entrance. “Already wet again?” Michael smirks. “Of course you are. You’re pathetic.”

You whine, but it isn’t long before he plunges his fingers inside you. Your back arches off the couch as he curls them, hitting that perfect spot that turns your brain to static.

“Who knew dumb little things like you had such pretty little cunts,” he hums, his thumb circling your clit. “All swollen and dripping, and I’ve barely even touched you.”

Faintly, you hear the clink of a belt buckle being undone. You blink through the haze, trying to focus past the overwhelming pulse of pleasure from his hand.

He’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you fast, his thumb keeping perfect rhythm on your clit. With his other hand, he works his belt free from the loops, pulling it out in one smooth motion that shouldn’t look as devastatingly hot as it does.

“Keep fucking yourself on my fingers,” he says.

It takes a few seconds for the command to register in your brain, but then your hips begin to move, picking up the pace as Michael drops his hand. Every pump of his fingers is intoxicating, his free hand roaming your leg, his head dipping occasionally to kiss your overheated skin.

Somehow, that seems to affect you more than anything else.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks. “Want me to stretch you out, see how this greedy cunt swallows me whole?”

You nod.

Michael withdraws his fingers, and the sudden loss is so jarring your body goes cold. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as he walks over to your discarded pants and untangles your panties from them.

You blink, body spinning with the possibilities. Michael walks back to you, crouching until your faces are level. His pupils are blown wide, and a faint flush colors his cheeks.

He leans in, catching your mouth in a kiss so tender it steals the air from your lungs. Your hand rises to cup the back of his head, fingers threading into the red strands.

He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours for a beat. “Open your mouth, princess,” he whispers, breathless.

You obey, anticipation curling through you. Gently, Michael lifts your discarded underwear and stuffs it into your mouth.

The act is surprisingly tender, but still, you’re stunned. You gape at Michael as he stands above you, carefully undoing his jeans.

“Look at how pathetic,” he murmurs, leaning down just enough to catch the hem of your shirt and lift it slightly. His finger traces the planes of your stomach, drawn tight with excitement. “Laid out like a whore, practically begging me to do something.”

You whimper, the sound muffled and catching in your throat as he withdraws his hand. He tugs down his jeans, followed by his underwear, until he springs free.

The thick length of him is enough to make your eyes threaten to roll back in your skull, but you stay carefully still.

He wraps a hand around himself, pumping lazily as he circles you like a predator, waiting to strike. When his thumb brushes over the tip, he lets out the most delicious little hiss—one that you feel all the way down to your toes.

You almost whine when he lets go of his cock, picking up the belt he left forgotten on the couch. He wraps the studded leather around your wrists, snug enough that you can’t fight it.

“You’re gonna lay there and take this fucking cock like useless hole you are for me,” he climbs onto the couch, lowering himself enough to tease. 

Michael nudges your legs apart, exposing your slick core. You’re clenching around nothing, drenched in desperation as you wait for him to do something. 

He leans over you, one hand braced on the couch cushions beside your head. Carefully, he drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, groaning. 

“God all it took was for me to be mean to you, and you're already a fucking mess,” he toys with your entrance, the only sign of him being affected is the slight rasp beneath his words. “My fucking mess to do as I please with. Isn’t that right?”

You nod, lifting your hips as you desperately search for some kind of release. 

Michael doesn’t waste any more time, thrusting into you fully with a harsh snap of his hips. You cry out, back arching off the couch at the brutal stretch, the sound muffled behind the fabric stuffed in your mouth.

He pulls back just enough for you to feel the unbearable emptiness—only to slam back inside with a filthy moan that makes you groan past the gag. Michael’s eyes flutter as he sets a brutal pace, hips snapping into yours with purpose.

“Gripping me so fucking right,” he grits. “It’s all you’re good for—milking my cock. God knows you don’t have the brain for anything else.”

He collapses over you, nosing along the side of your jaw. “Look at you,” he pants. “All ruined, all spread out for me, taking my cock like you’re meant to. Bet you’d let anyone do this, hmm?”

When he shifts angles, hitting that devastating spot inside you that sends your vision to static, all his filthy words only push you closer. You clench around him involuntarily.

Michael growls and yanks the belt tighter, using it as leverage to drag you down on him harder. Each thrust rocks the couch, your breasts bouncing with every sharp snap of his hips.

“You don’t even look human,” he mutters, sweat slicking his brow. “Just something for me to fuck and throw away. Isn’t that right?”

He punctuates the cruelty with his thumb pressing to your clit. One leg jerks in response, the tight, filthy circles he rubs making the pressure inside you mount unbearably.

His hips piston against yours, the obscene sound of skin on skin filling the room. One hand presses to your lower stomach, and the weight of it makes you choke on a moan.

“Can feel myself here,” he groans. “Bet that’s why you’re so needy. Never had your pussy stretched properly.”

You’re close—so close—body shaking, nerves shot, the build-up like fire licking beneath your skin. You sob behind the gag, the edge creeping nearer with every relentless thrust.

“Gonna come for me?” he asks, his thumb moving faster in tandem with his hips. “Gonna do the only thing you’re good for and soak my cock?”

You manage a shaky nod, tears slipping down your cheeks as your orgasm barrels toward you like a freight train.

“Cry all you want, baby,” he growls. “I’m not stopping ‘til you’re dripping with me.”

With one sharp thrust, he pushes you over the edge.

Your legs lock around him, your hands pulling against the belt as your orgasm rips through you. The studded leather digs into your wrists, the sweet medley of pain and pleasure only heightening every wave of release that crashes over you.

Your blood feels like molasses in your veins, and you heave for breath. The fog behind your eyes begins to clear, and slowly, you come back to yourself. But Michael doesn’t stop.

You’re oversensitive, still twitching from the aftermath of your orgasm. Fresh tears blur your vision, and Michael grips your chin.

“You’re not done until I say you’re done,” he grunts.

He lets go, his hand caressing your cheek—then suddenly slapping it. The sting lands like ecstasy, and you clench around him.

Michael takes that as a green light to do it again, slapping you once more. Your back arches off the couch, and you're still crying. The cool tears trail down your overheated skin in stark contrast.

He releases the belt, your arms dropping limply at your sides. But he doesn’t slow—his hands slide under your thighs, pushing your knees to your chest.

This new angle makes everything deeper, sharper. You haven’t stopped crying, but you haven’t stopped moaning either. Michael’s spurred on by the sound of your slick, by the way your cunt flutters around him.

A choked sob escapes you, and despite the overstimulation, you feel it building again—another orgasm curling in your belly like fire.

“That’s right,” Michael growls. “You’re gonna come again for me. Bet I don’t even need to touch your clit, huh? Bet you can come just from my cock like a good little whore.”

He grins down at you, eyes wild and shining. The tears have started to pool beneath your head, soaking the couch. Your skin is slick with sweat, your whole body trembling, but the pleasure only builds.

“There she is,” he breathes. “My dumb little thing. Just needed to be fucked stupid, isn’t that right? Needed someone who actually knows what to do with you.”

Your hand shoots up to grip his arm, nails digging into the taut muscle of his bicep. He doesn’t flinch. His thrusts grow more erratic, but every one still finds that devastating spot inside you.

“Come for me,” he urges, voice going sweeter, coaxing. “C’mon, be good f’me, baby. Come for me so I can fill this pretty pussy up the way you need.”

And finally—you break.

The world drops out from beneath you, leaving only the white-hot spiral of your orgasm tearing through you. You wail around the gag, body shaking violently beneath him.

Michael’s hips stutter, and he lets out a ragged moan. “Oh, fuck. You feel so fucking good,” he groans, head dropping. “Gonna come—shit—”

The strangled moan that claws out of his throat is the only warning you get as Michael empties himself inside you. He keeps up the shallow thrusts, twitching as you wring him dry.

You’re both shaking now, sweaty and high on adrenaline. For the first time, your mind starts to clear. Panic spikes when the weight of the situation settles in—when you catch sight of your discarded shirt and pants.

Your cheeks heat, and you’re about to scramble for a response when there’s a sharp rap at the door. “Stage in fifteen,” someone calls.

Michael freezes, looking down at you for a moment. “Fuck,” he curses, scrambling to get off you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ashton is so gonna beat my ass if he finds me here.”

He lets out a hiss as he slips out of you, hastily pushing off the couch as he hops back into his skinny jeans. He tucks himself into his pants without preamble, scanning the room for anything he might’ve missed.

When Michael’s eyes land on you, you half expect him to make a mean quip or just ignore you. Instead, you’re surprised when he leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then your lips, and hands you a half-empty water bottle.

He looks down at the plastic bottle, a little sheepish. “Uh, I’ll find you after the show,” he says, pulling his belt back through the loops as he gets up.

When Michael reaches the door, he turns back to you. “Sorry I can’t help much, but, uh—” he picks something up from the floor and throws it at you. “Yeah. Okay, see you.”

He shoots you an awkward smile before slipping out the door. You sit up, wincing slightly. Your body is tender from the events of the day, raw in the best of ways.

Part of you is a little smug, too—satisfied after seeing the sudden shift in Michael. Gone was the vindictive, sharp-tongued guitarist who seemed to have girls falling at his feet at every turn.

The only thing left was the fading façade—revealing the obsessed, but almost adorably flustered boy beneath the mask. You didn’t miss the subtle tenderness in his actions, and for a second, you wonder how the aftermath would’ve played out if he hadn’t had to be brisked away.

You shake your head, feeling the sticky mess of your releases beginning to seep out of you. When you grab whatever it was Michael had thrown at you to clean up, your eye catches on a bright red stain.

Your ruined shirt.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The whole situation was almost laughable—the idea of walking straight into potential embarrassment, knowing fully how his overthinking could turn even the simplest interaction into a pure, full blown disaster.

But, something about this moment made everything feel different. Maybe it was the pounding music rattling through the room, the present scent of all alcohol lingering in the air, or the sight of you—absentmindly swirling your drink, seated alone, looking as effortlessly breathtaking as usual under the dim lights.

Whatever it was, it gave him the push he had needed since the first year of university.

By the time his thoughts had fully caught up, he had already slid into the empty stool beside you. You glanced over, not entirely turning your body, your eyes flickering with subtle curiosity as you watched him adjust himself in his seat.

"Didn’t you have a friend keeping you company?" Riwoo asked, and the second the words left his mouth, regret settled in. Really? That was the first sentence he was going to say for the first impression? Bringing up someone else while trying to get your attention was definitely not the smoothest move.

But then again, he had no idea what he was doing. He had never done this before.

“She’s probably sucking someone’s face off right now,” you replied dryly, lifting your drink for another sip. Your eyes crinkled slightly as you recalled your friend disappearing with some guy you could’ve sworn you’d never seen before—despite her insisting you had. "So, she’s off-limits."

Riwoo's eyes widened, his hands flying up in defense. “Oh—no, no! I wasn’t asking to see if I could shoot my shot with her!”

“So what are you here for?” you raised your brow slightly, maintaining eye contact as you sipped your drink. “For a drink or for me?”

“Well,” he stammered, unable to form any words—his face burning up by the second.

Yeah, this was officially going downhill.

Your first impression of him? He could only imagine how terrible it is now.

But instead of pushing him any further, you simply let out a small hum of acknowledgement, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. His hair was a dark ginger, his bangs somehow managing to look both messy and effortlessly put together at the same time. He wore a clean white button-up, layered with a maroon and white striped vest, and a black tie neatly in place. The look was completed by black slacks and polished shoes.

And he didn’t have glasses on this time.

It took you a second, but then it clicked. This was the same guy you’ve always seen sit a row next to you, in the far corner close to the wall—his glasses always perked up, furiously typing on his computer as he tried to keep up with the lectures given. And he looked even better than he usually looks.

"Riwoo?" you muttered, watching the way his eyes lit up at the sound of his name coming from your lips. You weren’t entirely sure why you even felt the need to confirm it—you already knew his name. You had asked that very same friend, the one who had abandoned you here, about him before.

And it’s easy to know faces you want to remember.

"You’re in my classes."

"That’s right," Riwoo nodded, a small rush of satisfaction bubbling inside him. It was stupid, really—getting so giddy over something as simple as you knowing who he was. But he couldn’t help it. The fact that his crush was even aware of his existence felt like a win in itself.

He looked like he wanted to say more, lips parting slightly as if the words were right there—but nothing came out. Coming up with conversations on the spot was hard enough, but in front of you? The person he had been wanting to talk to for so long? It felt almost impossible.

You took his silence as the initiative to look at the drink in his hand–the glass being filled with little to (what you presumed was) no alcohol and ice. Without much thought, you signaled the bartender over. As they made their way toward you, you turned back to Riwoo.

"What drink do you like?"

"Huh?" He blinked, looking thoroughly confused—like he had just been yanked back into reality.

"Tequila? Rum?" You listed off a few options, tilting your head slightly. "Or whiskey?"

His brows furrowed. "What for?"

"Can’t you see?" You gestured toward his nearly empty glass. "I want to buy you a drink. Consider it a little reward for coming over here to keep me company—or, well, at least for greeting me."

"Oh, no—it's really fine—"

"I insist," you cut him off smoothly before turning to the bartender. "Two glasses of whiskey, please."

Shouldn’t he be mentioning how he wasn’t an alcohol person?

Riwoo barely had time to protest before the order was placed, and by then, there was no stopping it. Especially not when your face lit up with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with yourself for managing to get him something. He could only mirror your expression, a bit sheepishly, before taking a sip of what little remained in his glass. The lingering tang of fruit flavored his tongue, a definite strong contrast from what he imagined the whiskey would be like.

Despite Riwoo’s earlier nerves, conversation between you two flowed effortlessly. What started as general questions quickly unraveled into shared interests, then into personal stories that had you both laughing and nodding along in understanding. You were so caught up in talking that neither of you even noticed the two glasses of whiskey being placed on the bar until the bartender cleared their throat, snapping you both out of it.

You murmured a quick thanks before sliding one of the glasses toward Riwoo.

He hesitated, his fingers wrapping around the glass but not lifting it just yet. His expression wavered between gratitude and uncertainty as he stared into the liquid, almost as if he were debating whether or not he wanted to drink it.

Did you accidentally get a drink that he didn’t like?

"You know," Riwoo finally spoke, his words trailing slightly, "I wouldn’t have expected you to buy me a drink. I thought I’d be the one getting you one—for, you know, taking up your time."

"A guy deserves a treat every now and then, don’t they?" you teased, nodding toward the drink in his hand. "Consider that my token of gratitude for saving me from a boring night."

“Well, since I am also grateful for you for saving my night,” Riwoo said with more confidence in matching your energy. “I will take this drink gladly.”

He lifted the glass, feeling the cold liquid brush against his lips before he finally took a sip. It was strong, leaving a burning sensation down his throat. The aftertaste left a lingering spice, like some kind of cinnamon. And before you could press him with another sly remark that might break the rhythm, he downed the rest in one go.

It wasn’t a good idea—but it felt like the right one.

“That was fast,” you said, eyebrows raised, still swirling the ice in your own glass.

“It’s nothing,” he boasted, though the faint rasp in his voice betrayed him. “I could be here all night—drinking—if it meant I could talk to you.”

“Really?” you leaned in slightly, more amused than ever. It wasn’t hard to get a read on him—the way his throat tightened, how his fingers tugged at his tie, loosening it just enough to reveal a glimpse of his collarbone.

You smiled, deciding you wanted to see just how far this could go.

And so you ordered more. Only because he said he could handle more of it.

And he was willingly drinking it, still determined to maintain the conversation even if he felt himself getting more dizzy by the second.

“You should stop ordering those drinks,” he slurred, setting down the third glass you’d gotten him. His arm slid onto the countertop, head resting against his palm. Still, when you laughed, something about the sound seemed to soothe him more than the alcohol ever could.

“I wasn’t planning on getting you another anyway,” you chuckled, pulling his half-empty glass closer to your side. You tilted your head, watching his lashes flutter as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Who told you to drink all of it, huh?”

You leaned forward, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead. His glossy eyes followed your movements, lingering on you like he was studying an art piece he couldn’t look away from.

“Wanted to impress you,” he murmured, his slow gaze finally meeting yours. And if your heart hadn’t fluttered before, it definitely did now.

“I think you’ve done more than enough,” you said, smiling.

Before you could get another word in, you heard hurried footsteps from behind. You turned just in time to see someone rushing toward the bar—someone who, judging by the worry etched across his face even under the dim lights, definitely knew Riwoo.

“Riwoo?” You later realized Jaehyun called, his voice laced with mild panic as he finally reached his friend, who was now slouching even deeper into his seat. Jaehyun looked over at you, offering an apologetic smile that seemed just as flustered as he was.

“Oh, I’m so sorry you had to see him like this,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s not usually... the type to drink this much.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” you said, fixing your posture. “Do you guys have to go?”

“I don’t wanna go,” Riwoo whined, though his arm was already slung lazily over Jaehyun’s shoulder—not really putting up much of a fight anyway. “I wanna stay.”

“Y/N’s not going anywhere,” he scoldingly whispered at Riwoo, his voice still loud enough for you to hear. You could only smile at Riwoo’s drunk tendencies, as if that added another charm to him.

“So why do I have to go?” he muttered, looking at you as if waiting for your approval to stay.

“Because,” Jaehyun grunted, tightening his grip on Riwoo, who was now practically melting into his shoulder, “you’re going to worry her if you don’t leave now.”

“But—”

“Listen to him, Riwoo,” you interjected gently, saving Jaehyun from another round of slurred protest. Your tone carried enough softness to calm him, and much to your quiet relief, Riwoo fell silent—though a faint pout lingered on his lips.

While Jaehyun was adjusting himself another time, you quickly took the chance to signal to the bartender for a paper and a pen. In quick action, you scribbled down your number along with a short message, folding it twice before standing up from your seat.

As Jaehyun steadied himself with Riwoo now half lifted off the stool, you stepped closer, smelling the hint of whiskey even from where you stood. You slipped the folded paper into the pocket of Riwoo’s jacket, fingerings brushing against the fabric long enough for him to notice.

“Get home safe, okay?” you whispered, stepping back to try to meet his eyes again. His half-lidded eyes tried lingering on you, the alcohol really setting in. His face was still flushed, but now there was a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Turning to Jaehyun, you gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry for getting him to drink—I didn’t know he was that much of a lightweight.”

“It’s okay,” Jaehyun chuckled. “He sometimes tries to deny he isn’t one, so I can’t blame you for not knowing at first.”

“Yeah,” you said, easing back into your seat. You pointed toward Riwoo’s pocket, looking at Jaehyun. “And let him know that I want him to contact me later, okay?”

Jaehyun nodded, giving you a quick bid of goodbye as he dragged Riwoo away from the scene. You watched as their figures blurred into the crowd, staring until they finally disappeared from your sight.

Letting out a small sigh, you turned back to your drink that was still untouched from earlier. Without waiting any longer, you downed it in one quick motion, the burning sensation present yet not entirely unpleasant.

“Hey—sorry for leaving you hanging,” your friend’s voice broke through your thoughts. She placed a hand on your back before sliding into the seat beside you, her original lipstick color now barely visible, her expression dreamy and content.

You continued studying her for a brief moment, obviously noticing her faint smile that paired with her disheveled hair. You laughed softly to yourself, clearly knowing just by the way her eyes glittered with satisfaction that she just had the best time of her life.

“You know, I really wish I was you tonight.”

“Did you meet someone?” your friend asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. She clearly wasn’t expecting that from you.

“Might’ve.”

“Was it Riwoo?” she guessed immediately—of course she did. He was the only guy you’d ever mentioned with even a hint of interest before.

“Might’ve,” you repeated, unable to hide your grin as she smirked at you.

“I didn’t know you could be sneaky like that,” she teased, giving your shoulder a playful nudge.

“You’re not the only one,” you shot back, pushing the glass aside before standing up. “But, let’s leave this party.”

“Wait, why?” she asked, visibly confused.

“The party isn’t fun anymore.”

And she didn’t need to ask further.

She already knew your reason.

The party only wasn’t fun anymore because Riwoo wasn’t here.

‘💬’ — guys i lowk didn’t proofread this…

“You’re high, Jake,” you said, holding out the joint to him.

He took it from your fingers and pressed with a whine, “I wanna know.”

“I don’t know,” you replied, teasing him. Your boyfriend always got a bit sappy when he was stoned. “You’re cute, I guess.”

“I’ll take it,” your lover said, and put the joint to his lips.

It was your turn to look at him. He was mostly naked, except for his boxers low on his hips. You were wearing his shirt and nothing else, still sore from the last round but already salivating for more.

Discovering that weed didn’t just help you relax, but also made sex with Jake even more mind-blowing was a pleasant surprise. Now, you looked forward to the weekends with a newfound intensity.

Spending those two days with Jake, getting stoned and laid, made the week easier to get through. For him and you both.

Jake stubbed out the joint and let his eyes flutter closed, sinking deeper into the mattress under the weight of his high. You could already feel yourself shifting, wanting him to touch you again.

You made a little noise when Jake reached out, eyes still closed, and brushed his hand up your thigh, as if he’d read your mind. His palm smoothed higher and higher until his fingertips ran dangerously near your sex, still slick with release - his and yours.

Jake grunted when you rolled toward him, hooking your leg over his waist and burying your lips against his neck, kissing and sucking. “Babe...,” he said, fighting a moan.

“I wanna go again,” you mumbled, nibbling beneath his ear hungrily.

Jake gathered your face in his hands, prying you loose and making you look him in the eyes. His accent was adorably thick when he said, “I love you. I would take a bullet for you.”

You giggled and you were about to make a very affectionate comment, but he wasn’t finished.

“But you have drained me dry, woman. I got nothing left in my balls for you.”

You burst into laughter.

Jake chuckled at your reaction and couldn’t help but tug you close and pepper kisses all over your face. You were just too goddamn pretty.

“Then, why did you touch my thigh?” you asked, bracing your hands on his firm chest.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug, voice a little raspy. “It’s nice. And soft.”

You arched a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

He nodded. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m super fucking high right now.”

You sat up, straddling his hips, making sure your sex was right on his clothed cock. Guiding his hands to your bare thighs, you bit your lip and flirted, “What else do you like to touch?”

Jake smoothed his palms up and down your thighs, even going a little further to knead your hips. You felt a little too good sitting on his cock. He could feel the warmth of you against him despite his boxers in the way. “Everything,” he finally said.

You slipped out of his shirt, now naked again, and made a satisfied sound when his hands went straight to your breasts. The cold bite of the rings on his fingers made your nipples stiffen and it took you a moment to realize you were starting to grind on him.

“Is this okay?” you asked breathlessly. Being high made you more sensitive. Each brush of him against you was like lightning.

Jake nodded. “Keep going,” he growled, hands roaming every inch of you he could reach.

You kept riding him, rubbing his cock with your folds. It took all of your strength not to fuck him, but you liked dragging it out. You loved how he was staring up at you in worship.

“You have no idea how much I love you,” Jake whispered, his voice lower than ever before.

“I think I have some idea.”

“Nope.”

You giggled. Biting your lip, you clambered off of him and leaned back, propping up on your elbows and spreading your legs invitingly. “Show me.”

Jake shot you a look; something wild and hungry, mad with lust. He tugged off his boxers and crawled between your legs, his hard cock twitching as it came closer to your folds.

You cried out in surprise when he grabbed you by the ankle and dragged you toward the edge of the bed as he stood up, gathering your hips in his hands, your knees in the bends of his arms, and prodded his dick at your entrance. He was so hard it made you clench on nothing.

Jake pressed into you with a few steady strokes, groaning deep in his throat while you closed your eyes and staggered out a moan.

He really was stupidly good-looking. It was almost annoying. He reduced you to a bitch in heat.

“You fuck me so good, baby,” you purred, scraping your nails down his abs. They were more defined as he thrust into you, muscles tense and hard.

“Babe, stop… moaning… like that,” Jake groaned between thrusts, stilling inside you to say, “You’re gonna make me come.”

You snickered. Then, you decided to fuck with him, because fucking with Jake was one of your favorite and most rewarding pastimes. “I can’t help it,” you sighed, breathless. You arched a little, clenching on him. “I love that cock. You’re just so hard and deep. I wanna feel your cum inside me.”

“Fuck you,” Jake hissed, but a grin tugged at his lips. “You little shit.” He pulled back, slipping out of you, and fisted his dick tightly at the base to ward off his orgasm.

You taunted, “Already?”

“You annoy me.”

Giggling, you rose, pressing a swift kiss to his lips and then turned around, getting on hands and knees, your ass in the air. You wiggled left and right, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist you.

Jake grabbed your hips and impaled you on his cock again with one smooth stroke. His pace was slow, calculated, making it last like you knew he could.

You egged him on, because he loved that; taunting him into filling you up again until there was nothing left, and you threw yourself back to meet his pace hungrily.

Slamming his cock into you, Jake closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and moaned. “Fu… ck,” he groaned, biting his lip, because you just felt so fucking good it almost drove him to madness.

“Keep going, baby,” you coaxed, flipping your hair over your shoulder. You gripped the blankets tight in your fists, whining every time he bottomed out. “I want it. I need it.”

“Shit. Fuck!” Jake grunted, the air knocking out of his lungs. “Come, baby. I’m fucking coming.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You dropped your head between your arms, burying your face in the blankets and howling his name as you orgasmed around his cock, your body shaking and jolting with release.

Jake clasped your waist with both hands, drove in deep, and finished with another chant of curse words, your name jumbled in there too. He snapped his hips into your ass, stuffing you full of his cock until every drop of cum was where it was supposed to be - deep inside you.

You slumped tiredly into the mattress just as Jake landed on the bed beside you, making you bounce a little. For a few minutes, neither of you said a word, just panted for air and waited for your hearts to settle back into normal rhythm.

Jake broke the silence first with a low, drawn-out, “Fuck.”

You snickered.

Jake reached over and grabbed your face, turning you toward him so he could smash a flurry of kisses on your lips. In between kisses, he said, “I love you… so fucking much… I can’t live… without you.”

You started drifting off with your head on his arm, wishing you could stay awake. Wishing you could stay in this moment forever.

Jake ran his fingers through your hair, smiling at you fondly. He traced his fingertips over your cheek affectionately.

“I love you too,” you said before fading into sleep.

When you woke up, Jake was molded to your back, his face buried against the nape of your neck. You smiled at the warmth of him around you and then, seeing the sunlight creeping in through the windows, you frowned.

The weekend was over. It was time to go home.

You shifted slowly, hoping to sneak away before your lover woke up, but Jake flexed his arm around you, trapping you to him.

“Stay,” he said, his morning voice sending shivers across your skin.

“You know I can’t.”

“Just a few more minutes.”

You sighed in defeat, rolling over to face him, tears pricking your eyes at how snugly he held you to him. You nestled your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat beneath your ear.

Jake smiled faintly when he felt your fingers brush his cheek and his pouty lips, still swollen from your kisses.

“Try not to miss me too much. Okay?”

“Monday to Friday feels like eternity," your boyfriend said with a pained groan.

You studied him, eyes getting a little misty, and whispered, “Promise me one day we’ll have more than this.”

Jake met your eyes and his expression turned serious. “I promise. I’ll always give you everything. Right now, this is all I can give.”

“soobin?” you poked your head through the door, watching as he looked up from his game, a smile growing on his face the second he recognized you.

“hey.”

“hi,” you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you.

“how was school?” he paused his game, his full attention on you for the time being.

“so tiring. i need to relax,” you sighed, the pounding in your head finally becoming noticeable.

soobin stared at you for a second before chuckling lightly.

“you can take a nap in my bed,” soobin spoke, “i’m gaming with beomgyu, but i’ll try and be quiet.”

the exhaustion in your eyes was evident, and you took him up on his offer happily, practically ready to just sleep on the ground at that point.

“oh, wait,” he stood up quickly, heading over to his tv to turn it on, “is jujutsu kaisen okay with you?”

you laughed quietly, getting situated under his covers, “i’m gonna be sleeping through it. put whatever on, soob.”

“whatever you say,” he smiled, walking back to his pc, “sleep well.”

you hummed in response, turning over to your side as you snuggled up, letting your eyes flutter shut as sleep began to envelop you.

you were grateful for this tradition. getting to hang out with your best friends after a long day of school. it didn’t matter if everyone was busy, just being able to be around them and enjoy each other’s company was enough for you.

you had to admit, ever since you started working along with going to college it got much harder to hang out, but you would always find ways to hang out with them multiple times a week, sometimes crashing on the couch overnight before leaving early for class the next day.

while you slowly lost consciousness, you listened to jujutsu kaisen playing quietly in the back, and the sounds of soobin tapping his keyboard as he talked with beomgyu quietly.

-

you woke up a good hour and a half later, feeling a bit more well rested.

you slowly sat up in bed, stretching your arms above your head as your eyes focused on soobin across from you.

all you could see from where you sat was the back of his head, and sometimes a glimpse of his side profile if he turned his head a bit.

you were pretty bored at this point, not knowing what else to do and deciding you wanted to spend time with your best friend.

soobin wouldn’t mind if you asked him to hang out, right?

you slowly crawled to the edge of the bed, calling out his name quietly.

“soobin.”

he didn’t hear, too engrossed with his game as he continued talking to beomgyu and hitting keys on his keyboard.

you reached your hand out to tap his shoulder lightly, “soobin.”

he jumped slightly at the action, pausing his game to turn around and look at you, slowly removing his headphones as he gave you an expectant look.

“what’s up?” he asked, fluffing his hair with one hand.

you cleared your throat, your eyes flickering across soobin’s face, suddenly aware of how attractive he really was. you blushed slightly, trying to not let it show how much of an effect he had on you. something about his hair in the dim light was getting to you.

“i was just, uhm.. bored,” you spoke quietly, now feeling embarrassed for pulling him out of his game to cater to your needs.

his face softened a bit, looking at his game before looking back at you, “you wanna hang out?”

“only if you want,” you sat back on your heels, trying not to look too desperate, but you were really bored and fiending for some attention at this point. and your eyes might have kept wandering to soobin’s lips a bit too much, or maybe it was you following his hand with your eyes as he brushed back his hair.

what you didn’t know was that he noticed everything, every little glimpse and action. he knew you were into him. but he wasn’t going to point that out.

“i would, but me and beomgyu still have a few hours of gaming left,” he responded with an apologetic look, trying to ignore the way your face visibly dropped at his sentence.

“how many?”

“like, uh, three,” he said, an embarrassed look on his face. you glanced at the clock to see it was already 10pm.

“oh, okay,” you responded, slowly beginning to scoot yourself back on the bed, “i’ll just go back to sleep.”

“you sure?” he turned around more, reaching for the tv remote, presumably ready to give it to you.

“yeah, i’m sure. don’t worry about it, i’m still tired anyway,” you yawned, lying back down and turning on your side, “i’ll talk to you later. night, soob.”

he hummed out a goodnight in response, before putting his headphones back on and turning around.

you were disappointed, you weren’t even going to lie. were you less important than the game to him? soobin would usually drop whatever he was doing to hang out with you when you came over, so of course you felt a bit discouraged right now.

but a part of you felt guilty for wanting his attention all to yourself. he was just trying to talk to beomgyu, and they deserve that without you whining. you decided to not ponder on it too much, and honestly soobin’s sheets were too comfortable for you to stay awake any longer. your thoughts became muddled as you once again let your eyes shut and went to sleep.

-

you woke up to the smell of ramen invading your nostrils. you really thought you were imagining things at first until you realized the smell was in fact right next to you.

you opened your eyes to see a large bowl of ramen, and a plate of kimchi sitting next to it. you smiled brightly as you took in the smell more, letting the comforting smell warm you up.

your mouth was watering as you took the first bite, letting out an audible hum and savoring the taste.

you figured soobin had to have made it at some point while you were asleep, looking up to see him taking a sip from his drink, head thrown back as he was close to finishing the bottle.

your eyes flickered to his adam’s apple, maybe staring for a bit longer than you needed to.

you silently thanked him in your head, not wanting to disrupt his gaming anymore, before taking another bite of the yummy dinner.

you didn’t even know if it could be called dinner anymore considering it was 11pm, but you were hungry.

you got lost in thought, eyes focusing in on soobin’s hands moving quickly across the keys, letting your gaze move to his head, watching his side profile become illuminated by his pc when he turned his head slightly.

it was eerily quiet in the room. soobin had turned the tv off at some point, the only light source in his room being his pc.

once again, your eyes dropped to his hands. long, skinny fingers hitting the keys quickly, sliding all over the keyboard as he typed a message out. a part of you felt bad for staring, but what could you say? soobin was attractive. anyone could see it.

you were lucky enough to call him your best friend, but there were certain points you wished you could be able to call him more.

small taps broke you out of your daydreaming, looking out the window to your left to see rain hitting the glass.

well, that’s amazing.

you didn’t remember seeing that it was gonna rain at all, and it was picking up pretty quickly, the soft taps on the window turning into fat droplets pelting the glass.

you grabbed your phone off the bedside table, opening the weather app only to see that it was going to be raining for the next few days.

and not just raining. storming. there was supposed to be thunder, lighting, and flash floods. you quickly accepted the fact you weren’t going home tonight, and if it was going to be storming like they were predicting you probably weren’t going to be leaving the apartment until it was over.

you slowly put your phone back down, going back to slowly eating your food, this time deciding to take a small bite out of the kimchi lying next to your ramen.

your attention was taken away from the food when you heard soobin shuffling in his seat.

he had turned around to look at you, seeming surprised you were awake.

“you’re up?”

“yeah, uhm, i just woke up like five minutes ago,” you responded, taking another bite of kimchi, “thanks for the food.”

he smiled, “it’s no problem, i felt bad for not being able to hang out. beomgyu just really wants to play games tonight since he’s not free any other day.”

“no, don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you were still slightly disappointed, but you weren’t going to let that show.

“also, it’s supposed to be raining for the rest of the night, i guess it’s gonna storm pretty bad,” you added.

soobin turned to look out the window, nodding at the sight, “well, you can sleep in here then, it’s gonna be too cold on the couch.”

you shook your head softly. the couch was already pretty cold on normal nights, so you didn’t even want to imagine how cold it was going to be if you slept on it tonight. you were glad soobin was offering up his bed, but that meant he was going to be cold.

“i don’t want you sleeping on the couch either,” you spoke quietly.

he tilted his head at you, lips pouting a bit, “who said i was sleeping on the couch?”

oh.

oh.

your lips parted into a small ‘o’ as you processed his words, just nodding at him. you were totally fine. you could do this! sharing a bed with soobin? your best friend? no big deal. you looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers as you bit your lip, trying to ignore the feeling of soobin’s eyes on you.

soobin watched you for a bit, waiting for your reply which never came. he slowly turned around and went back to his game, unpausing it to join beomgyu again.

you picked up your phone once again, confirming to yourself that it was going to be storming. you put your phone down, deciding the best thing to do at this point was sleep, you hated storms, you didn’t wanna have to deal with them and considering you left your headphones at your house you had nothing to help you.

slowly climbing out of bed, you trudged over to soobin, watching the small smile on his face as he chuckled at something beomgyu said. you tapped him on his shoulder lightly and he turned to look at you quickly, telling beomgyu to hold on a second.

“yes?” he asked, taking in the tired look in your eyes.

“i’m gonna go to sleep, just wanted to let you know,” you answered, giving him a small smile before heading back to the bed.

“goodnight, sleep well,” was all he said in response before turning back to his game.

as you climbed under the covers you couldn’t help but feel even more disappointed at the fact soobin was once again choosing his game over you.

what you didn’t know was that soobin felt terrible and he wanted more than anything to spend time with you. if you had come on any other day, it would’ve been perfectly fine. but him and beomgyu haven’t been able to hang out like this in weeks and he wanted to be able to spend time with his other best friend too. with the screen going black on his pc in between levels, he saw your pouty frame sitting in bed and holding onto his bunny plushie, before sighing and finally lying down.

he slowly lifted one of his headphones off of one of his ears, just barely enough so he could hear the outside noise well. just in case you needed anything, he would be able to hear clearly.

you were getting more comfortable in soobin’s sheets, nearly on the edge of passing out. sleep was starting to reach out for you, ready to envelope you in it’s soft embrace, lulling you off into dreamland. you snuggled your face further into soobin’s pillow, consciousness slipping further away from you- then a strike of thunder.

a loud gasp tore itself from your throat as you shot upright, gripping onto the sheets beside you as you tried to catch your breath. almost as fast as you shot up, soobin was spinning around in his chair to see your shaking frame.

“y/n? are you okay? what happened?” he questioned, staring at you with wide eyes.

“nothing, nothing,” your voice shook as you answered, “just a bad dream.”

you weren’t entirely sure if he believed you, he didn’t say anything for a couple seconds and just stared at you, and all you could do was hope another boom of thunder didn’t reverberate through the sky.

“are you sure?” he pressed further.

“i’m fine, soobin. don’t worry about me,” you smiled, a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach your eyes, but it was enough for soobin to nod at you and turn back around towards his game, still being sure to keep one headphone off of his ear.

letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you slowly situated yourself back under the covers, trying to calm your breathing while snuggling further into soobin’s covers.

another boom or thunder shook the sky, your eyes scrunching shut as you held on tighter to soobin’s blanket, trying to ignore the loud noises. every time you were calming down more, another loud boom would follow, the sound filling your eardrums and causing panic to rise within you.

your knuckles were turning white from the hold you had on the sheets, feeling tears well up in your eyes as your breathing quickened. you just wanted the noise to stop. you hatred thunder.

ever since you were a little kid, you had memories of hiding under tables to get away from the thunder, letting out loud, wailing sobs as you clung onto your mom after she dragged you out, crying that you were scared of the loud noises in the sky. it was a fear that never truly went away, always sure to carry headphones with you if you knew it was going to rain so you could pop them in if thunder started and block the noises out of your mind. that however, wasn’t working today.

a small tear escaped your eye, followed by many more. you were trying to remain quiet, trying to calm your breathing which wasn’t really doing much, trying to push the fear out of your mind. small sniffles could be heard from you, burying your head further into soobin’s sheets, doing anything to drown out the noise.

you jumped at the feeling of a hand gently placing itself over yours, their thumb caressing your knuckles lightly. opening your eyes softly, soobin was kneeling next to the bed, concerned eyes looking into your teary eyes.

“are you scared of the thunder?” he spoke, glancing out the window before turning back to you.

you shook your head, staring at him, “no.”

“you’re scared of the thunder,” he replied.

“no, i’m not-” you tried to refute, but a crash of thunder sounded, your body tensing at the sound.

soobin stared at you for a bit with a solemn look on his face, his hand coming up to your face to wipe away your falling tears. you tried to ignore the way your breath hitched, and how your eyes widened slightly.

he stood up abruptly, startling you slightly, “come with me,” he spoke, holding out his hand for you to take.

your eyebrows furrowed slightly, but you knew you could trust him. you raised your hand slowly and grabbed onto his as you flung your legs over the edge of the bed, pushing yourself off to stand up.

you let him guide you over to his computer, his hands dropping to your waist to maneuver you to sit in his chair, giving you a small smile before he grabbed his headset.

“hey, beomgyu, y/n is gonna play with us for a bit. she’s taking my spot,” he explained into the microphone, and you heard a muffled response from the other side, not being able to make out what beomgyu was saying.

he pulled the headset off of his head, placing it over your ears and motioning for you to speak.

“hi,” you stammered, your hands resting on the edge of soobin’s desk, not wanting to mess up anything.

“hey y/n! i was getting sick of playing with that loser, i’m glad you’re here,” beomgyu responded, and you couldn’t help the abrupt laugh that slipped past your lips, lifting your head to look at soobin with a smile.

“what?” soobin asked with a confused look on his face, “is he talking shit about me?”

you shook your head, looking back down towards the screen, “well, i’m really bad at gaming. i wouldn’t get too happy. what even is this game?”

“we’re basically connected by a rope, and we have to work together to get the key that leads you to the next level. it’s mostly teamwork,” he explained while you nodded along to his words, forgetting he couldn’t see you.

“okay, i can do this. that sounds easy enough,” you smiled, your voice more determined as you placed your hands on the keyboard, looking up to soobin to make sure you were using the correct keys. he nodded, and you looked back down, ready to start.

you started walking forward, beomgyu’s character moving with yours, beomgyu going to jump while you fell, dragging both of your characters down.

you sucked in some air, your face scrunching up, “sorry! i didn’t mean to do that.”

you heard beomgyu’s muffled laugh on the other side, “you’re fine. not everyone can be an amazing gamer like i am.”

a soft giggle escaped your lips, shaking your head as you played along with an exaggerated tone to your voice, “oh, right, i’m so sorry. i’ll get it right next time.”

you lied. you had tried six more times, and the same exact thing happened every time. you were starting to feel more embarrassed and you could tell beomgyu was getting slightly restless.

you weren’t on time with beomgyu, you would jump too early and he would fall, or you would jump too late and he would fall. you looked down with an embarrassed look as a sigh left your lips.

“i’m sorry, beomgyu. i told you i wasn’t good at this,” you muttered, your hands coming up to cover your face.

“it’s okay, we’ve got this,” he reassured you, sensing how nervous you were starting to get.

“here,” soobin chimed in from behind you, his hands reaching around you to grab your wrists lightly, “put your hands on the keys.”

you nodded, lowering your hands to place them on the keyboard again, situating yourself in a more upright position.

you felt soobin place his fingers on top of yours, his warm touch sending a shiver up your arms. you sucked in a breath, one you were sure both beomgyu and soobin heard. you clenched your eyes shut for a second in embarrassment and wished soobin didn’t have this much of an effect on you.

“i’ll help you,” he whispered, leaning down so his head was next to yours. if you weren’t wearing the headset he would’ve been whispering directly into your ear. you pushed away the lustful thoughts that filled your brain, clearing your throat and nodding at his words.

“okay..” you squeaked, your voice small. this was humiliating.

“soobin’s gonna help me, beomgyu,” you informed him, soobin guiding your hand to click the restart button on the level, the screen flashing as you two were once again at the starting point.

“i heard him, don’t worry,” he spoke, and you smiled slightly. soobin’s hands pressed down on your fingers, guiding your character to move, quickly getting through the part you were struggling with before.

“not so hard, was it?” he asked so quietly, it was almost a whisper. you turned your head to the side slightly, your breath coming out shaky when you realized how close your faces were.

you nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours with a small smile, “yeah..”

getting through the levels after that was easy, and you had gotten accustomed to the feeling of soobin being so close to you. you were bickering with beomgyu, the two of you talking about everything while you went through the levels, with the occasional jab towards soobin beomgyu would make.

you would laugh every time, soobin simply shaking his head. he was close enough to your ear to hear what beomgyu was saying, responding to the insults and listening to the way beomgyu would get quiet before bursting out with a laugh, not knowing soobin had heard him.

you had completely forgotten about the storm at this point, too caught up in the game as the levels got harder and harder. to be fair, you were barely doing any work. but it was still fun to at least be playing a part in it.

“okay, we have to lock in. this level is gonna be hard,” beomgyu said, and you heard him take a deep breath as you looked at the screen in front of you.

it definitely didn’t look easy.

“soobin, better work hard-“ beomgyu began to tease, his voice cutting out as soobin’s computer shut off, leaving the room pitch black. your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at the screen, turning to face soobin with a concerned look.

he mirrored your expression, turning to look at the screen, “uh.. let me..”

he bent down, checking the plugs and clicking the keyboard a couple times, a slight hum leaving him.

“i don’t know what happened, everything is still connected,” he mumbled, standing back up to look down at you.

a loud knock on the door caused you to jump slightly, soobin turning around to look.

“yeah?,” he called, waiting for a reply.

“the power went out!” hueningkai called from the other side, and soobin turned to look back at you, the computer turning off suddenly making a lot more sense.

“oh, makes sense,” he responded, reaching down to pull the headphones off of your ears and place them on the table next to you. the two of you shared an embarrassed look, both wondering why you didn’t think of that at first.

“hey, where’s y/n? i haven’t seen her,” hueningkai continued. you looked up at soobin with a small smile, a soft giggle leaving you.

“she’s in here. she’s staying with me tonight,” he responded, smiling back at you.

“oh,” he mumbled, a pause before his next words, “okay. goodnight.”

“goodnight,” the two of you called back, listening as hueningkai’s footsteps descended from the door. silence surrounding the two of you once again.

it was hard to see soobin at all. the room was pitch black, and he looked like a silhouette in front of you, nothing more.

“i’m gonna go get some candles,” he blurted, breaking the silence and beginning to make a move for the door.

your hand moved before you could think too much about it, grabbing onto his wrist and stopping him from going any further. well, let’s be honest, you weren’t stopping him at all. he could’ve kept walking if he wanted to. but he stopped for you.

“don’t go,” you whispered, your grip on his wrist loosening as you lowered your hand back down into your lap, beats of silence passing as you waited for his response.

he hummed quietly, turning back towards you, “okay.”

he was standing so close to you, looking down at you, and from the proximity you could make out his eyes, a sly smile playing on his lips as he spoke, “you’re really dependent on me, aren’t you?”

you rolled your eyes playfully, a laugh leaving you, “shut up.”

he did, surprisingly. he tilted his head to the side, almost observing you. a loud crash of thunder filled the room with noise, your eyes clenching shut as your body went rigid.

“soobin,” you squeaked out, not even realizing his name had left your lips as you looked up at him, panic flashing across your face.

you felt your eyes grow watery, a pout forming on your lips as you met his eyes. he looked like he was once again trying to figure out what to do. he couldn’t distract you with technology this time, he couldn’t block out the noise for you. a small tear slipped down your face, a broken whimper leaving your lips as more thunder sounded throughout the quiet room. you couldn’t even be embarrassed about crying over thunder at this point. you were so overwhelmed.

soobin’s hands reached under your legs, pulling them towards him, before reaching his arms behind your chest and lifting you up, holding you bridal style.

a small part of your mind flickered to how strong he was, how easily he was able to pick you up and how easily he was able to carry you.

he shuffled over to the bed, lighting tossing your body down as you landed with a quiet “oomph”. your eyes flickered down towards him, trying to make out where he was in the darkness.

you saw him lift one leg up onto the bed, leaning his upper body over you as he held eye contact with you, not saying anything, just watching how you reacted to him.

he slowly began to crawl up your body, the only noise being your shaky breaths and the rain hitting the window. shivers erupted across your body as you felt him get higher.

what the fuck is he doing? you thought to yourself, your eyebrows scrunching up in confusion as you watched him.

he was so close now, leaning right over your face. a lightning strike lit up the room, your eyes meeting soobin’s more clearly. there was desire evident in his eyes, your mind going haywire. you had to have been imagining that, right? there’s no way.

he leaned down very slightly, his voice quiet and breathy as he spoke, “do you want me to help you?”

a small gasp slipped past your lips, your eyes wide. you couldn’t say anything. the words wouldn’t leave your mouth. this was not happening. this was not reality.

he leaned down, his face so, so close to yours, before he moved his head towards your ear, his breath tickling your skin as he continued, “use your words. yes or no.”

a shiver ran down your spine, a shaky breath leaving your lips as your body finally forced the words out, “yes. please.”

you felt him smile against your ear, lifting his head once again so he was hovering over you. he reached one hand out to wipe the still-wet tears on your face, his thumb then trailing down to your lips and pulling your bottom lip down before letting it slap back into place.

god, he was so hot. you sucked in a breath of air at the action, your eyes locked on his as began to lean down.

it was soft. his lips were so soft, slowly moving against your own as he titled your head up slightly to access your mouth better. a soft whine slipped past your lips, your hands coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

he pulled away, looking into your eyes. this was your best friend. you were kissing your best friend. your hands slid up to his hair, tangling themselves in his roots and tugging slightly, hearing him suck in a breath of air before his lips were back against yours.

his tongue prodded lightly at your bottom lip, and you obliged easily, opening your mouth to let him in. he was so gentle with his kisses, but they were all-consuming at the same time. his hand that was on your jaw moved down your body, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt before he pushed his hand under slowly.

a gasp left your lips at the feeling of his cold hand on your warm stomach, his large hand splayed out on your abdomen. he wasn’t moving it, just holding it there, like he was waiting for you to tell him to stop. like he wanted you to tell him this was a bad idea.

you didn’t. you would never. fuck, you’ve wanted him for so long, you weren’t going to cut things off now.

his mouth was pushing harder against yours, his kisses getting slightly more rough. your thighs rubbed together while your fingers found themselves tugging at his hair once again. you felt him smirk against your lips, his hand finally beginning to inch up your abdomen.

another crash of thunder. your lips stuttered against his, the grip you had on his hair loosening at the sound. you were so enthralled, you had forgotten why you two started making out in the first place.

he pulled away from you slightly, just enough so he could speak, your lips still brushing each other so very lightly.

“focus on me. not the thunder. i’m right here,” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss to your lips before moving down to your neck.

you only nodded at his words. you felt like you were in a dream at this point. his lips softly kissed at your neck, nipping slightly in certain spots before he made sure to run his tongue over the spot, pressing a small kiss before moving on to another spot.

you rolled your head back against the sheets, giving him all the access he needed as a quiet moan slipped past your lips. a fleeting thought of how you would explain this to hueningkai in the morning popped into your mind but you decided that was a problem for tomorrow.

you felt his fingers reach the bottom of your bra before stopping and tapping your skin lightly. you guessed he was asking if it was okay to keep going further.

“yes,” you spoke, your voice breathy and sounding foreign to yourself. he hadn’t even done anything to you yet. his hand moved up higher, cupping your bra-covered breast in his hand and giving it a light squeeze.

a moan slipped past your lips before you shut your mouth quickly. you had forgotten you weren’t alone for a second. you felt him laugh against your neck, his breath tickling you and the sound so soft. he sat up, the hand that was holding himself up moving to the bottom of your shirt.

“can i take this off?,” his voice was quiet, but it wasn’t nervous. no, he sounded confident. it only turned you on more, a whine slipping past your lips as you nodded your head, arching your back slightly to make it easier for him.

he pulled your shirt over your head quickly, tossing it to a random corner in the room before he was leaving down, his lips latching on to your chest. you sucked in a breath at the action.

“soobin,” you whispered quietly, your voice shaky and ridden with need. you didn’t know where to put your hands, they were going from his shoulder, to his hair, to his biceps.

his hand snaked under your back and you lifted yourself off the bed as best you could as he undid your bra. you tried not to let the fact that he did it effortlessly with one hand linger for too long in your mind. he slid your bra off your body slowly, before leaning back down to press a kiss on your now exposed breast, his other hand coming up to play with the other one. his lips latched onto your nipple, lolling his tongue over the pebbled skin and you swore you were going to go insane.

gasps and whines were leaving your lips as he continued to pleasure both of ur breasts, humming against your exposed flesh. he pulled away just slightly, his hand continuing to squeeze and caress your other breast as he mumbled, “you’re so pretty, fuck.”

“more,” you whimpered out, any proper responses long gone from your mind at this point. your hands clawed at his shirt as best you could, trying to pull it over his head. he got the memo, sitting up and tugging the offensive piece of clothing off of him, your eyes taking in his now exposed chest.

it wasn’t something you hadn’t seen before- no, you had seen him shirtless hundreds of times. this felt different. so, so different.

he leaned back down, trailing kisses down your torso while his hands roamed before finally setting on the hem of your sweats, “lift for me.”

you pushed your hips off the bed slightly, giving him access to pull your sweats and panties down slowly. you heard a small gasp escape his lips, your legs pushing together out of instinct, “you’re soaking, y/n, fuck.”

he hummed, shaking his head before pulling your legs apart, “don’t hide from me.” you whined softly as your head lolled to the side, embarrassment flooding through you. you shouldn’t be embarrassed, really. but nerves were still coursing through your body, your eyes clenching shut.

“hey.” his hands rubbed your thighs lightly, pulling your attention back to him, “why are you so nervous?”

you didn’t say anything for a bit, pursing your lips as you thought of a response. “you make me nervous,” you finally mumbled out, looking down at him slowly.

he chuckled softly, his fingers moving further up your thighs, closer to where you needed him. a soft gasp left your lips, your eyes widening slightly. he hummed, his eyes flickering down and back up, “i do?”

you nodded, a small- and borderline embarrassing- whimper slipping past your lips. your hips wiggled slightly despite your nerves, trying to get him closer to where you needed him. “soobin, please,” you gasped out, your eyes staring into his.

he finally obliged, one of his fingers sliding through your folds, a sharp gasp leaving you. “keep your eyes on the mirror, baby,” he mumbled, giving you a smirk as your head fell back, your eyes barely being able to make out the sight that was being reflected on the mirror.

“want you to watch as i ruin you,” he continued, your body tensing at his words. god, you were not making it out of this. his fingers slid up to your clit, slowly massaging the bundle of nerves. your breathing sped up, a soft moan slipping past your lips as your hands grabbed onto the sheets beside you.

“soob, please. need you so bad,” you whined, grinding your hips up into his hand. his other hand moved to your abdomen, pushing down to keep your hips in place. a moan left you, your hands moving from the sheets to his hair.

“patience,” he replied, a teasing lilt to his voice. his fingers moved from your clit, two of his fingers prodding at your entrance before pushing in slowly. you moaned softly, your head rolling back. “eyes on the mirror,” he mumbled a reply, pulling his fingers out almost all the way before pushing them back in.

you didn’t really hear him, focusing too heavily on the feeling of his fingers. until you felt him latch onto your clit, his lips sucking lightly and drawing a mix of a moan and a gasp from your lips, “fuck!”

you pulled your vision back to the mirror, the sight barely illuminated, the only thing visible being your silhouettes- which were still incredibly hard to see. your fingers tugged at soobin’s hair, trying your best to contain your sounds as you bit your lip so hard you were sure you could draw blood soon.

he was licking and sucking at your clit, his fingers speeding up inside of you, the wet sounds that were leaving your pussy were something you would have normally been embarrassed by, but you were too far gone by this point.

whispers of his name and profanities were leaving your lips, your hands gripping his hair harder as he hummed against you, sending a chill throughout your body. you felt the first tingling’s of your orgasm creeping up on you, your legs threatening to close around his head.

“soobin- soobin ‘m close..” you struggled out between whines, unable to do anything besides take what he was giving you, throwing your head back against the pillow.

soobin removed his fingers, moving his hands to hold either of your thighs down as he moved his tongue, licking a long stripe up your heat. one of your hands flew from his hair to your mouth, struggling to hold in the noises leaving your lips at this point.

“you’re so fucking wet. tastes so good,” he mumbled against your lips, licking and sucking harder as he pushed your legs further apart, practically making out with your cunt, “you gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my tongue?”

you nodded dumbly, too close to your orgasm to process his words or anything that was happening around you besides the feeling creeping up on you. your eyes were trained on the ceiling, your orgasm growing tighter, so close to falling over the edge.

a lightning strike lit up the room, giving you a perfect view of soobin’s head in between your thighs, your hand gripping his hair, and your fucked out face. you stared back at your reflection, the familiar feeling creeping up on you all too quickly.

“fuck, i’m gonna-“ you started, your orgasm cutting you off as your back arched into the air, your hand tugging harder at soobin’s hair. your body shook, his hands pushing your thighs down harder as he groaned into your cunt, the feeling heightening your orgasm. muffled whines pushed their way past your lips, although your hand was trying its best to muffle the noises.

soobin wasn’t slowing down. even as you started to come down from your orgasm, tinges of overstimulation mixing pain with pleasure, he kept going. “soobin.. too much,” you whimpered, your hand falling from your mouth to grab onto his hair, attempting to push his head away.

“you taste so good,” he responded, his voice muffled and sending vibrations up your core, your legs twitching at the feeling.

“soobin,” you mewled, tears welling up in your eyes as you attempted to push your thighs together, your head falling to the side.

he lifted his head, looking up at your shaking form with a small smirk adorning his lips, “you can give me one more, can’t you?”

he went back to eating you out almost immediately, except this time he removed one of his hands from your thigh, pushing two of his fingers inside your dripping hole, beginning to thrust them in and out.

you threw your head back, a gasp falling from your lips as your hands tugged at his hair. “i can’t.. soobin,” you whimpered, tears falling down your face at the feeling.

he moved his free hand, once again pressing his hand down on your stomach as he sped up his fingers, the feeling pushing you close to the edge once again. you but your lip hard, holding in the noises threatening to leave your lips as he continued his ministrations.

you couldn’t even give soobin a warning this time, your second orgasm crashing over you as your eyes rolled back, your pussy gushing all over his fingers and face.

he helped you ride out your orgasm, slowly pulling his fingers out of you once it started becoming too much again. he pressed a soft kiss to your sensitive clit, your legs jumping slightly at the feeling.

he pushed himself back up your body, enveloping your lips in a soft kiss. you tasted yourself on his lips, humming quietly into the kiss. he ground himself against your core, his bulge applying the perfect amount of friction against your clit. you gasped against his lips as your head tilted back slightly.

he looked down at you, a teasing expression on his face, “what’s wrong?”

you couldn’t care less that he was teasing you at this point, grinding your core up against him. “need you,” you mumbled.

“yeah?” he teased, continuing to grind his hard cock against you. he wanted to be inside you so bad, his sweats were painful at this point and your pussy was providing the perfect amount of friction for him. he wanted to keep teasing you, to see how far he could push you, but his self control was shattering more every second.

he pulled away, a whine falling from your lips at the feeling disappearing. you looked up at him with a pout, “why’d you stop?”

“i’d rather you come on my cock,” he replied simply, his words rendering you speechless. he tugged his sweats and underwear down in one go, his hard cock slapping against his stomach. the tip was red and leaking, your mouth dropping open at the sight. he stroked himself a few times with his hand, a cocky smile on his lips when he noticed your reaction.

“holy shit,” you mumbled, a new wave of arousal washing over you. he leaned his body over yours once more, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“are you ready?” he asked softly, lining himself up with your entrance. you nodded quickly, letting out a desperate hum as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back down to your lips. he reciprocated the kiss immediately, pushing his hips forward slowly and enveloping himself in your tight heat.

you gasped, your lips separating from his as your face scrunched up and a moan spilled past your lips, closing your mouth quickly. soobin’s eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed as he continued to move forward slowly, “fuck, you’re so tight.”

you couldn’t get any words out, noises stuck in your throat as he practically split you open on his cock. he finally bottomed out, his thighs flush against the back of yours. you could feel every ridge and vein, a deep breath leaving him as he spoke, his voice shaky, “i’m gonna start moving.”

“okay,” you whispered, a whine slipping past your lips as he pulled out, pushing himself back in quicker than before. you couldn’t think straight, your mind muddled and completely focused on how good you felt right now, how soobin was fucking you just right, setting a perfect rhythm.

“soobin, fuck,” you mumbled, your hands moving to his neck, his arms, his back, anywhere that you could get a hold of to ground yourself. the sound of skin slapping skin reverberated quietly throughout the room, the both of you trying your best to be quiet, but, fuck, it was hard.

“gonna make you cum on my cock. make you forget about everything else,” he sighed, his hand coming down to push on your stomach, your eyes rolling back at the pressure, “fuck, you’re taking me so well, baby.”

he stopped his movement, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips as you looked up at him, “no- no, don’t stop.”

he didn’t answer, grabbing your legs and pressing them to your chest, holding them there by the back of your knees as he started to move again, the new angle making him feel even deeper. “fuck, oh my god,” you whimpered, throwing your head back against the pillow. he had you practically locked under his hold, unable to do anything besides take all of him.

a certain thrust had him pushing up right against your g-spot, a broken gasp leaving your lips as your hand shot out to the sides, gripping the sheets as your eyes rolled back. soobin caught on quickly, rolling his hips up against the same spot, “right there?”

“yes, yes, please, oh my god,” you babbled, trying your best to hold the sounds threatening to push past your lips in. he picked up his pace more, hitting the perfect spot repeatedly. you felt your high growing quickly, the band getting ready to snap.

“soobin, i’m close,” you whined, his hand immediately coming down to rub circles on your clit. the added stimulation pushed you even closer to the edge, your eyes clenching shut.

“me too, baby. gonna stuff you full of my cum,” he groaned out, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared the edge, “you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“pleeease, i need it. need your cum,” you whine, your hands pulling at the sheets harder as you feel the band in your stomach growing tighter, “i’m gonna cum- soob!”

he sped up his thrusts, rubbing harder at your clit, “cum for me.”

his words pushed you over the edge, your toes clenching and eyes rolling back as your orgasm exploded, your release gushing all over his cock. your pussy clenched tightly around him, making it harder for soobin to move as he groaned, watching how your face contorted as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure.

“fuck, baby. squeezing me so tight. i’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up,” his voice was strangled and shaky, his hips slamming against yours as he shot his cum inside you, throwing his head back and clenching his eyes shut. he rocked his hips slowly against yours, helping the two of you ride out your highs.

your breathing slowed down as your body relaxed into the sheets, trying to process what had just happened. his forehead dropped against yours softly as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before releasing your legs, them instantly falling down by your sides.

“hey,” he whispered against your lips, a soft smile playing on his lips as his hands came up to your face, pressing another kiss to your lips before he continued, “want you to ride me.”

your eyes snapped open, staring into his eyes with an exasperated look, “soobin, i’ve come three times already. i can’t do another one.”

“oh, but i think you can,” he smiled, looking out the window before turning back to you, “besides, it’s still thundering outside.”

you couldn’t even get an answer out before he was flipping the two of you over, a gasp leaving your mouth as your hands shot out to his chest to steady yourself. the new position had him hitting different spots inside you, your pussy clenching around his hardening cock.

a corner of his lip lifted, his hand slapping your ass lightly, “turn around for me, baby.”

you obliged, pulling off of him with shaky legs as you both winced at the feeling as you moved your body, positioning yourself over him once again. you were trying to ignore the soreness in your legs, grabbing his now hard dick and aligning him with your entrance before slowly sinking down.

you bit your lip hard, holding back the moan of pleasure, a small whimper slipping out instead. “fuck, soobin,” you whined, your head dropping to your chest as you continued to lower yourself, finally feeling him bottom out.

“just like that, doing so good for me, hm?” he mumbled, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he helped guide your movements, your mouth falling open at the new feeling. you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on his cock, your hands steadying themselves on his thighs, helping you move quicker as you bit back moans and cries.

your legs were stinging, threatening to give out on you as you tried to keep going and push yourself through the pain. it didn’t work, your legs dropping down as you took a deep breath. you tried to lift yourself up again, but soobin’s hands held you in place.

“relax,” he murmured quietly, bending his knees and pushing his feet into the mattress, his hips thrusting up into yours and immediately setting a brutal pace. you couldn’t fight the loud cry that left your lips, one of your hands slapping up to your mouth as you tried your best to muffle the desperate sounds leaving you.

he was so deep, hitting you in places that had tears welling up in your eyes, your hand gripping onto his thigh like a lifeline. “too much!” you cried, the hand on your mouth dropping down to his other thigh to hold yourself in place.

one of his hands moved from your hip, slowly sliding up the rest of your body before he reached your neck, grabbing your chin and angling your head up towards the ceiling. “look at yourself, baby. how good you’re taking me,” he spoke gruffly, voice consumed by lust.

your fucked-our face was staring back at you, teary eyes and mouth hung open, soobin’s hand holding your chin and his hips pistoning up into yours. his eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pulled between his teeth as he watched the way you sucked him in. you couldn’t help the loud moan that left you at the lewd sight.

it was like a dam broke. all the moans and whimpers you had been holding in were slipping past your lips as the tears that had been welling up in your eyes spilled over. he angled his hips just right, thrusting up against your g-spot again as a loud cry left you. you didn’t even have to tell him at this point, he knew. he kept the angle, repeatedly hitting the same spot that made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

he chuckled quietly behind you, his voice strangled as he spoke, “you want hueningkai to know how good i’m fucking you?” you clenched tightly around him at his words, a whimper leaving your lips. you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke again, “you liked that, didn’t you? dirty girl.”

“yes, w-want everyone to know- need you,” you stammered out, your voice shaky and cut off with moans. you were nearing the edge for the fourth time that night, loud, unabashed moans leaving your lips as your hands pushed harder against his thighs, trying to ground yourself somehow.

you were so far gone at this point, only caring about the pleasure coursing through you. you felt like you were in a different dimension. you were so close to tipping over the edge, your cunt beginning to clench around soobin as you cried out.

“you close, baby?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. he doubled down on his efforts, thrusting into you faster, if that was even possible at this point.

“please- please.. need to cum, fuck, please, let me cum, soobin, please, want you to fill me up!” you pleaded, tears falling down your cheeks as your eyes clenched shut. you were so close to falling over the edge, the knot in your stomach tightening more and more, so close to snapping, so close to-

your vision went white, your mouth falling open as a cry left you as your cunt spasmed wildly around him. it was euphoric, your body twitching and spasming as he held you in place, beginning to chase his own high. you could do nothing besides take it, whimpers and cries leaving your lips as the pleasure morphed into pain.

“i’m almost there baby, fuck, just-“ he started, his thrusts sloppy and quick as he neared the edge, “i’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck”

you watched his face with bleary eyes when he came, the reflection dark and hard to make out. his eyebrows were squinted closed and his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth hung open as he filled you up, pulling you down as hard as he could, hot white seed filing you to the brim and spilling out from being so stuffed.

his grip on you loosened, pulling you back against his chest. the position was uncomfortable, your legs and back bent at a weird angle, but you were too far gone to think about that right now. he smiled at your pliantness, adjusting your legs for you the best he could, pulling himself out of you slowly.

you whined at the sting, his hand stroking your arm as he whispered, “it’s okay, just relax, alright?” you nodded, soobin sliding himself out from underneath you so he was next to you, turning on his side and facing you.

“hey,” he mumbled with a smile, watching as you turned your head to meet his eyes with a shy smile.

“hi,” you giggled, your voice hoarse and sleepy.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he admitted quietly, biting his lip as he averted his vision.

your eyes widened slightly, turning your body fully to face him as you responded, “you have?”

“yeah,” he said, a small laugh leaving his lips as he looked back at you, “i’ve wanted you since we became friends. i just didn’t wanna make things awkward. but you would always give me these looks and i couldn’t tell if you liked me or not. tonight i just.. i couldn't help myself, i guess.”

your mouth fell open slightly, a smile forming on your lips as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, “i’ve always been yours, soobin.”

his eyes lit up, a big smile taking over his features as his hand reached up to cup your jaw, pulling your lips back against his. this kiss was different from the others. it was sweet, full of emotion and untold feelings that had finally come to surface.

he pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against yours as he spoke, “let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” as you nodded along to his words, the rain pouring outside the window as the storm raged on, one thought circulated through your mind.

maybe thunder wasn’t so bad after all.

oh, and how you were going to explain this to hueningkai in the morning.