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fuck this life, i want haechan

thinking about boyfriend haechan who always has a hand on your hip, regardless of where you are or what you’re wearing, even if that means the skirt of your dress bunches up beneath his palm and exposes more of your thighs, even if that means slowly slipping out of the conversation because the circles he’s rubbing beneath the denim of your jeans, thumb slipped beneath the waistband of your low rises, are undeniably more stimulating. in a busy airport with a delayed flight, he’ll sit while you stand in front of him, steering you with his hands on your hips, bringing you close enough to rest his forehead against your navel, breathing in the sweet notes of your perfume, and imagining a much more titillating scent just out of reach. your hand drops to the top of his head, twisting strands of hair between your fingers while you watch the screens changing rapidly with updates, awaiting one for your flight to jeju. one tug and he’s kissing your stomach through a soft moan, through the material of his mask, imagining a wet spot against the delicate cotton of your tee.

Thinking about haech smoking is making me wanna give him head...😞

donghyuck best boy