haze

His head is on your chest, then he snuggles close like a kitten, "Babe, you did that to a plushie! I'm sure the teddy bear felt very violated." His stubble grazes against your neck. You let out a soft hum in response, pulling his hand over your chest and putting yourself in a very comfortable position for the cuddle session.

"Oh come on, it was soft and my fingers just slid in. Just like your cunt. What am I supposed to do?" His fingers explore your body, casual touches feather light on your skin. You let out gasps, trying to focus on the conversation because it's not everyday that you get to tease him, "I don't know, baby. Exercise self-control?"

His smug "Oh yeah" pisses you off every time. He's so hot when he says it. Your breath hitches for a short second. Two lithe fingers push the lace aside and your pussy starts to throb right away in anticipation.

It's muscle memory. The gentle caress of the tip of his fingers. The press of his middle finger with intention. The smooth slide. Your adorable gasp. Everything is practised precision. He hums this time, "You exercise self-control first. Then I'll think about it." These intentional movements drive you crazy. You want to curse at him when he steals your climax.

His soft words against your skin, make the heat pool in your lower stomach. "See, she just lets me in, just like that" He presses deeper, a second passes before the next finger slides in just as smoothly. "Your pussy is perfect for me— can't wait to just thrust in and sleep."

God his words are filthy, "Won't you keep me warm my angel? I didn't train your pretty little cunt for nothing, did I?" The feeling of his dick against your thigh sets off all scenes that had happened. The heat radiating from him does nothing to help, "Ah— fuck please oh my—" He doesn't let you up. Removing his shorts, he strokes his cock. It's thick, God, it's so thick and a little brown just like the rest of him—it's honey dipped— that's what you'll call it.

The stretch is too much. You've taken it before, but that doesn't mean you are used to it. He bottoms out with a groan of your name. "Fuck—baby, so tight" The raspy hum against your ear, flusters you even more, "Now let me rest like that," He sleepily kisses your neck, wrapping his arms around you to stop you from moving too much, "keep me warm, yeah?"

Skin flushed and sleep gone out of the window, you could only hum in response.

A smug smile forms on his lips, follows it, that deep rich chuckle of his, "I'm trying to fix your sink here," he pulls off the damp tank top from his chest and you stare, like you are supposed to. He wipes his hand with a clean rag, taking slow steps, all leisurely and charming and to reduce the distance between you and him.

It happens like it's a scene from a romcom. That slow motion. The sunlight. The cinematic turn of your body as he presses you against the counter. His lips graze your neck first then move up slowly. His voice, low and hot against your ear, as his rough hand squeezes your butt, "besides baby, if you want to see the thrusts that bad, I can think of a better idea." And then he ruts against your aching core.

A moan slips out easily and he laughs, a little dark, a little teasing. Your shorts fall to your ankles along with his sweats in the next few seconds. He pushes the thin cotton aside, spreading the slick against your folds before easing in with one sharp thrust. Your breath falls short, and your fingers scramble to find a grip.

"I just love it when you lose your mind," He groans, moving at a steady pace, "fuckㅡ strokes my egoㅡah" you whimper in response, knuckles white and face flustered red. He relentlessly thrusts in, to abuse those sweet spots.

Sweet slick drips down your thighs. He wastes no time. Turning you over and perching you right on the counter, he thrusts in deep again. Your legs are haphazardly thrown over his shoulder. Folded in half, you feel every inch of the length that he's pressing into you. Your soft walls clamp around his dick and you can feel his tip in your stomach, a small bulge that can't be missed. Your eyes go white when he does that; like it's the most normal thing to make you go insane on his dick. The knot snaps in your stomach, painting him white. He groans your name and it's a mantra on his lips, "Fuckㅡbaby, youㅡahㅡ're so good" He spills inside you, slowing down to take a good look of your flushed face, "You are fucking pretty when you come for me."

You turn redder, and try to shove him away, "shut up." But he steals a kiss before carrying you off to the shower which is not broken like your sink.

You snuggle into his neck when he starts talking again. "As I was saying, the enamel is all worn down. Explains the rust. Did he spray acid or something?" He caresses your hair while looking through the replacement for the rusted taps.

"I don't know" you answer easily and Taeyong fixes you with a stern look. Your doe eyes turn sheepish the next second, "maybe I should have done a little research."

"Maybe he wanted more money" Taeyong places his phone aside and pulls you on top of him. His callous fingers are rough against your supple skin. You murmur out a response in return, "yeah, no, I'm never calling him again."

He hums. Satisfied.

You look up at him. Eyes sparkling like little stars, "you can fix it for me." Your brilliant brain is already cooking up plans. It's not like you'll intentionally break the tap. Maybe. Maybe not. He laughs softly, as if he can read your mind. A smug smirk forms on his lips, "Yeah, damn right I will, baby."

Time ticks fast in Guatemala. The last few days of the tour passes like a dandelion swept away by the breeze. Jaemin, sweet Jaemin has been relentless in trying to charm you. You couldn't say it wasn't working but you were already smitten since that day in London.

The dawns were warm but the evenings came around like a cool embrace. You were holding his camera again; this time capturing the radiance of his smile.

"Is it your turn again?"

"Come on, buttercup. You think I'd lie to you."

"Oh yeah, definitely."

"Yeah, I definitely would if that means I get to capture your pretty face."

"That's cheesy."

And that goddamn menace winks like it's not a big deal when your heart flutters inside your ribcage because of him.

NOW PLAYING : : Fujii Kaze • Shinunoga E-wa

YOU ARE IN : : Japan

My. My. My. Jaemin is unique, true but goddamn his theatrics are much more interesting. The sakura petals hang in the air, dancing around him while he prepares his speech. It's spontaneous because you can see that he never planned to kneel in the middle of the night. But would be miss a chance when it's presented on a platter?

You watch him pour his heart out without a hitch in his breath. Thanking the heavens that there's barely anyone around, you try to pull him up but he stays there; those doe eyes sparkling and you are darn sure, that you could never say no.

"I want you to be my last love, buttercup."

"Jaemin, get up, alreadyㅡ alright quit pouting!"

"Do you know that I might die if you stay away from me?"

"Oh my God, shut up! Your fans might kill me if you die because of me!"

"Well then, be mine and stay with me? That's the only way."

"Yes, Jaemin. I'll do that. Now get up."

He grins, pulling himself up to his feet. Cradling your face, his soft dewy lips gently press against yours. You wonder if this is how it feels to be loved.

NOW PLAYING : : Beach Weather • Sex, Drugs, etc.

YOU ARE IN : : Seoul

The photos are framed and lined up. The gifts are arranged in a pristine manner. The grey and white lighting is chic and sharp, just like him. The moment of reveal brings in a rush. People are trickling in to see his artistry.

The artist, however, is too drunk on you to go in and get praised for his work. Fingers glide against your skin when the drizzle meets the lands. Pressed against the wall in the dark room, he pulls out strained gasps and moans from you, one by one. You feel it all at once, the crash returns and he delves deeper, relishing the pleasure; savouring you whole.

"Jaeminㅡ ahㅡ nghㅡ pleaseㅡ the showㅡ"

"Shh. I've to make you cumㅡ on my tongue."

"Jaeㅡ shit, 'm gonna cumㅡ"

"Let go for me, buttercup."

He wipes his face with a smug grin (narcissism suits him). You, a puddle on the couch, dressed in his expensive designer clothes, and it feels so right to be his, his buttercup.

It was a kiss. Accidental but the way Jaemin smiled was so intentional. No apology. He hangs around you like a butterfly fluttering around cherry blossoms. The breeze in Hong Kong was a little humid that day but he was laughing like it was the best weather. You could only stare at the way his lips curl into a knowing smirk.

"Buttercup? Do you want another kiss?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

His lips collide with yours behind the privacy of those walls in Lok Wah Estate.

NOW PLAYING : : NCT Dream • Night Poem

YOU ARE IN : : London

A little flirting in the dark night of London wouldn't do any harm. The epiphany of your feelings was a crash, all at once. Jaemin holds you through it, in the walks, in the late movies, in sharing the salted popcorns and caramel kisses. The night deepens. Your breath is against his lips, a little yearning for a gentle graze. He thinks otherwise as he presses his lips to your jaw.

"Let me know you, buttercup."

"All yours."

It's a promise. Hearts beating together under the starlight as he explores you with words and much more.

NOW PLAYING : : KAIRO • Can You Love Me Tonight?

YOU ARE IN : : Chile

Crossing lines is easy but distance after that is difficult as it comes. In Chile, he asks you for the first time. Your heart hurts at the thought of saying no to him so you say nothing and the silence stretches until it becomes sombre and tense. Apology hangs on the tip of your tongue but Jaemin, the epitome of love, he just smiles and pulls you into his warm embrace, promising that he'll ask you again.

"As long as you stay in my arms, I'll believe that I have another chance, buttercup."

He soothes your doubts, a balm to your burn. Words of affirmation slipping out like he's been waiting to say them to you. Your soft breath tickles his skin, resting your head against his chest on a park bench. The night passes and it's a new dawn; a new day; a new decision to make and maybe, just maybe you know what to say now.

You wave him off. You'd rather just go see him first. He had done it again, made you go insane over him, his stage persona, his expressions but honestly it's just everything about him drove you out of your fucking mind. Chenle gives you a teasing smile before he leaves you alone with him, the star of the day, the hot debut soloist. He's standing there in all his glory. The tan skin, flushed and sweaty, holding a hand fan to his face, he intently watches the pre-recording, and his face blooms when he hears the chants of his name from the sunflowers. And you? You are just admiring him while he does his job dedicatedly.

The staff trickle out of the room one by one once they spot you. He hasn't greeted you yet and so you make it an advantage. You set the cake and the rose bouquet on the table and decide to sneak up on him but that guy, your boyfriend just turns, extends his arm, pulls you closer and wraps himself around you.

For someone who is high on adrenaline, he's awfully quiet. That's odd. One, two, three. And then the mask cracks. His lips meet the supple skin of your neck and a gasp escapes your lips inadvertently, "I'm so, so tempted to fuck on the couch right now." Nosing along your neck, he curses, "Fuck- you smell so good."

"And you smell like sweat."

Tossing his phone on the table carelessly, he picks you up and carries you across the room, "You like it, sweetheart. You can't even lie about it," his gloved fingers wander the expanse of your waist under your dusty pink sweater. You tut in response, "we areㅡ not at home!"

He laughs, shrugging off his blazer, "oh sweetheart, why are you stuttering then?" His cheshire cat smile somehow makes you red more than ever, "was it the stage? The outfit? Tell me, love." Your eyes flicks right to his gloved fingers and veiny arm. "Oh," his grin is smug now, "who knew my baby is such a sucker for gloves, hm? Should I touch your pussy without removing it then? Bet you would like it."

"Hyuck- please stopㅡ"

He removes the glove with his teeth, and throws it on the ground, "Why should I, love? You are the one being a dirty little slut, thirsting over my fingers and rutting on my thigh."

"I'm not a slut-ah" his fingers rub insistent circles around your clit, making you whimper in pleasure. He tsks, "Only sluts get this wet while they are being talked down to," his two deft fingers relieve the ache between your thighs, but the relief is soon replaced with raw pleasure, "now tell me. Aren't you my desperate little slut, hm?"

"Fuckㅡ ah, shitㅡ yes, whatever you sayㅡ ah!"

The words just slips past your lips and your brain doesn't register it at all, but you know you are done for when his mischievous eyes turn into something dominant, "Is that how you answer me?" Voice low and cold and a harsh slap stings your ass.

In seconds, you are pressed against the wall, clothes strewn on the floor and filled up to the brim. His hips snaps in a rhythm that he just knows that drives you insane. Your moans float around the room, muffled by his palm as he thrusts in hard and fast, uncaring and selfish, only taking, never giving and pausing right when you're about to fall apart. He is mean like that, and you love him like that.

Gripping your chin, he kisses your full lips finally. Your hand on his nape while the other claws his back through his tshirt. The knot in your stomach threatens to snap again, "Hyu-ck ah- 'm going to-" you mewl, arching your back and pressing against him. He groans, snapping his hips faster, "go ahead, my dirty little sweetheart. Come for me." The rhythm doesn't falter till your pussy clenches around him, tight and needy. His name slips past your lips like it's a chant.

"Ah- shit- sweetheart," he curses while he follows you after seconds, face flushed and even more sweaty than before, "filled you up so well. Keep it in for me, yeah?" You are too gone to care but he makes you respond by holding your cheeks and thrusting in slowly, "say yes, sweetheart."

"Yes, you- fuck stop-" a hiss leaves your lips and he presses a kiss on your temple, "yes, ma'am." He scoops you up in his arm and helps you get dressed without anymore comments.

You know this pattern now; you are so familiar with it actually.

Because he stopped now, doesn't mean that he's done with you at all. He's just waiting to corner you in the privacy of his home. It's pretend play of prey and predator. And you happened to love playing with him till he goes crazy for you.