#bio: !! hello @ITZY ? ... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

staytheword · 2 years

Text

thanks for the memories (lmly, part one)

thanks for the memories — part one of leave me loving you [→ part two] [series masterlist] [general masterlist]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors, please do not interact!! if you interact with my writing please have a profile picture and short bio indicating your age. it helps me make sure you are not a bot!!

• han jisung x female reader, all other stray kids members are featured. other idols are mentioned briefly (ateez's wooyoung, itzy's yuna).

• non idol au, rock band au. drinking, partying, explicit language, explicit smut. oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, protected sex. (let me know if missed any warnings)

• word count: 11.6k

There’s only one person there, sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging his legs and looking around. For a second you think your eyes must be deceiving you, but it’s him. Han Jisung.

• permanent taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @tanyas97 ; @raspbinniecreme ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit

• story taglist: @mintquokka ; @is2cb97 ; @dirah-h ; @bokk-minnie ; @allypasta ; @strawberriesandknives ; @drhsthl ; @hyunjins-red-lights ; @thesunsfullmoon (hope I didn't forget anyone, sorry if I did I have an awful memory!)

• author’s note: hello ♡!! here is part one of the series! thank you so much for all the support you've given me, it's really heartwarming :') I really really hope you'll enjoy this (can you tell I'm incredibly nervous haha?)! the first part is a bit longer than expected because I wanted to divide it differently but thought it didn't work as well.... ahh. anyway. well. if you can please let me know what you thought ♡ lots of love!

The Jack of Trades is packed tonight, exactly the way you like it. It smells like smoke and booze, colored by neon lights and light projectors. The floor is sticky under the soles of your combat boots, and you have to zig zag through the crowd to make it to the bar.

Tonight is one for the books.

The Trades is hosting the concert of a band who’s visiting your city on their tour. It’s a big deal. The band in question, Side Effects, got featured on Spotify and are really popular on social media. You don’t know them very well - you’ve only heard snippets of one of their songs - but judging from the amount of people squeezed in the Trades tonight, you’re representing a minority.

Leaning against the bar, you catch Yuna’s gaze and raise two fingers. She gives you a nod, her long hair falling in elegant waves on her shoulders. You always order the same thing, anyway, so she doesn’t have to ask. A minute later she hands you two bottles of your favorite beer, which will go straight to your tab, and you give her a thumbs up of encouragement in return.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen the place so packed. You don’t think you ever have. It’s usually busy on Fridays, but never like this. You feel a rush of pride because the Trades is your favorite place on this godforsaken planet and you know how hard Changbin worked to get it back on its feet after the last owner deserted.

Speaking about your best friend, he’s where you usually find him, near the mixing console where Jeongin is sitting, focused, his headphones placed on his bleached hair. Changbin is frowning at his phone, clearly busy with final preparations. It’s an important night for him. He lets out a relieved sigh when you hand him his beer.

“Finally,” he lets out, immediately taking a long sip.

You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking. “You’re welcome, Bin.”

He drinks for a few more seconds before answering you - his beer is already half empty.

“Can you see this?” he laughs in disbelief. “The place is fucking packed.”

“You did it, Bin,” you say, lifting your bottle to clink it against his. “You sold out the Trades.”

He grins and cheers to your words before emptying the rest of his beer. When he’s done, he releases a content sigh and you take the empty bottle from his hands.

“I feel better now. I was getting a little stressed,” he chuckles.

“Is everything ready?”

He nods. “Yup. We should be able to start on time,” he says, checking his phone again. “Oh, fuck, no, why is Hyun texting me…” You let your gaze wander around the room as Changbin starts to type frenetically on the phone. It’s hard to believe that only two years ago, this place was nothing. Changbin bought the place as it was falling to ruins. You still remember the first time he showed it to you, making a big show out of it. He put a blindfold around your eyes and everything - and when you saw the dusty floor, the bare walls and the half collapsed stage, you thought your best friend had gone crazy.

But Changbin had a vision. He wanted to create a place where there would always be live music, where people could come to dance to a band they liked just as much as grab a beer and listen to whoever was playing. You could see it in his eyes as he explained it to you.

It took months just to undo the damage made by the past owners - the plumbing needed to be replaced, there was mold in the walls of the bathroom, and things you preferred to forget in the dressing rooms. Luckily, Changbin was one stubborn guy, and he pushed through at the times you would have easily given up. You did your best to be there for him.

The months after that had been easier - choosing the color of the paint, the best material for the floor of the stage, the placement of the bar and tables. Changbin already had a name in mind, and you worked for weeks on a design for its logo. When Changbin gave his approval, he ordered a neon light in the shape of your logo, which now hung on the brick wall behind the stage.

Since its opening, the Trades has seen its fair share of rising artists, of questionable singers and chaotic musicians. A few concerts sold well, and the place became a success. Now there are so many proposals Changbin actually has to choose who will play on the nights the Trades is open.

Tonight, the place is sold out for a band that you’ve actually heard on the radio. Hyunjin, who works backstage, has a friend who has a friend - Side Effect’s guitarist. They were looking for a venue and the Trades ended up being mentioned in a conversation. When Hyunjin told Changbin, you were sure he was going to go into cardiac arrest. It cost him a small fortune to pay the band and promote the concert, but seeing tonight’s crowd, it was definitely worth the investment.

“He said three, Hyun - not, not two, three - I SAID THREE - HYUN?!”

You turn to Changbin, eyebrow raised, and he sighs deeply, holding the bridge of his nose. His outburst has also gotten the attention of Jeongin, who has turned his chair towards him and pulled down his headphones.

“We really need to get a better network for his place,” Changbin mutters. He nods at Jeongin. “Everything ready?”

Jeongin nods. He doesn’t talk a lot but has an impressive work ethic. He’s also the best - the best - poker player you’ve met.

“Y/N,” Changbin pleads, “can you please find Hyun and tell him three changes, not two. I need to stay here.”

You nod and head outside the booth. Although you’re always here, you don’t officially work for the Trades - but you don’t mind helping. The place is your baby a little bit, too. You’ve been here since the start, helped with the renovations, and you’ve barely missed a concert.

Holding on to your beer, you slip through the crowd towards the door leading backstage, Wooyoung letting you in with a sharp nod. You know the place so well you have no difficulty finding your way in the dark. You find Hyunjin standing behind the black curtains around the stage, hiding him from sight. He’s dressed all in black as usual, and blends with the shadows so well sometimes the only thing giving him away is the piercing on his eyebrow.

“Did he say two or three?” he asks you.

“Three,” you confirm.

“Three,” Hyunjin repeats under his breath, turning to finish preparing his things. “Why not two like everyone else? Why does it have to be three?”

You smile to yourself at his muttering, and hand him your beer.

“Take a sip, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks.”

He drinks as you peak around the curtain to see the stage. You love seeing it from this angle when it’s all ready to go, its floor covered in cords and various equipment. Side Effects has four members, each with their own microphone, and the drum kit is huge.

You turn back towards Hyunjin who has a finger against his earpiece and hands you back the beer. You understand the signal - the show is about to start. The Trades goes dark and you hear the crowd scream in excitment. You turn on your heels to leave, as you don’t want to be in the way, but as you’re about to head back, you’re blocked by a few people passing in front of you.

You can barely see them in the darkness, only a few lights giving a hint of their faces, but you can easily guess from their outfits and general energy that they’re the band.

The first has short, ruffled dark hair and wears a tank top that barely covers his wide shoulders. He does not see you, clearly in his own mindspace. The second is slightly shorter, with shoulder-length black hair that is half tied behind his head. His eyes are wide and shine in the darkness. He notices you staring and nods at you quickly, munching nervously on his lower lip.

The third barely glances at you. He wears a leather jacket and his hair covers his eyes. The last is smiling, visibly excited, and gives you a wink as he walks by - but he does it so quickly you can’t get a good look at him.

Each of them gives a different energy, none of which feels similar to what you would expect in a popular rock band, and just for that, you are intrigued. The crowd is going wild, a few people screaming at the top of their lungs, pushing towards the stage. The overall atmosphere is electric, tense like the few seconds before a raging thunderstorm.

You decide to stay for a song, making yourself small backstage. The first notes of an electric guitar rips through the Trades, soon followed by a rhythmic beat on the drums. When the voices join the melody, you find yourself moving, tapping your feet on the floor. The song is catchy, reminding you of the music you listened to when you were a teenager - in a good way - and their voices blend in perfect harmony.

Tank top guy, who you understand is the main singer and guitarist, stands at the center of the stage, belting a high note in the microphone. To his right, the other guitarist smiles widely at the crowd, no longer looking nervous - and to the left, perfectly sporting the bad boy look with his leather jacket, the bassist does not even smirk.

But really, it’s him you can’t look away from. Sitting at the drums, on the edge of his stool, slamming his sticks like a man possessed. He’s fast and aggressive, his face quickly dripping in sweat, his tongue slightly sticking out from between his teeth. In your entire life, you’ve never seen anyone play the drums like that. He’s probably barely visible behind the other members and the array of drums and cymbals in front of him, and yet he shines so bright you can’t take your eyes off him.

You stand there as if struck by lightning for the rest of the song, and then for about half of the second.

Who is that guy?

You see the appeal of Side Effects. Four handsome guys with an insane amount of charisma bombarding really good music like they were born for it - of course they would be popular. Around you, the audience is dancing and singing, clearly having fun. You feel proud for the Trades, and a little embarrassed that you didn’t give this band much attention before. They are good.

You clap when the second song ends, listening attentively as they introduce themselves. The singer and leader is Chris. The other guitarist is Felix. At the bass is Minho, and behind the drums sits Jisung.

You can’t help it - you stare at him. Jisung. He’s fidgeting like a child as Chris interacts with the crowd, happiness overflowing his eyes. He plays with his drumsticks like they’re the extensions of his fingers, which you don’t doubt is true. As Felix says something about an upcoming EP, Jisung leans down to drink some water, and as he looks up, your eyes meet.

He doesn’t react, and for a second you think he can’t actually see you in the dark - but then, he smiles.

A heart-wrenching, life-altering smile.

You can almost feel your legs wobble, but really, you are too shocked to move. You just stare back like an idiot until he looks away.

How can a guy be so goddamn magnetic?

The next song starts and you try to catch your breath. It’s hard to do so as he plays right next to you, the muscles of his arms tensed, his entire body jolting as he pounces on the drums. He’s still smiling, but he’s focused. You breathe out slowly.

When you think you can stare at him in peace, he turns his head for a second and winks at you.

It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You take a step backwards, clearing your throat, and look around nervously. That’s when you see Hyunjin, who is smirking at you. You give him a glare and he playfully winks at you.

You make sure to give his arm a good slap before you head back towards the booth to go back with Changbin, your legs a little shaky.

You’ll watch the concert from a distance.

People often talk about the calm before the storm, but you prefer the one that comes afterwards. The latent electricity, the echoes of screams. You stand in the middle of the Trades, your ears ringing in the eerie silence. The entire audience has left, the stage is empty.

You stand among the staff, your shot glass lifted as Changbin ends his speech. He has a proud grin illuminating his face, his eyes shining like stars - you cheer with the others to the night’s success, clink your glass against Hyunjin’s and drink. People disperse to finish cleaning up or to get home, but you linger next to Changbin. You throw your arm around his waist as he finishes talking with Wooyoung, and once the bouncer tells you both goodnight, you pull Changbin into a hug.

“Congratulations, Mr. Seo,” you tell him. “I’m proud of you.”

He hugs you back, chuckling, his breath making your hair dance. In the way his body leans against yours, you can feel how both happy and exhausted he is.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he breathes.

You shake your head, leaning back, gently tapping his cheek with your palm.

“Of course you couldn’t.”

He pulls his tongue at you as someone calls his name. You both turn towards the voice. A young guy with dark hair is smiling at Changbin, walking towards you. Wearing a pair of jeans, a white button-up and a relaxed tie, he looks both casual and fancy. Behind him are four people you immediately recognize.

Side Effects.��

You try not to stare, stepping away from Changbin.

The main singer, Chris, looks completely spaced out although he’s smiling politely. Felix looks like he’s still on his adrenaline high, bouncing slightly, looking around in curiosity. The bassist, Minho, remains impassive, but he perhaps looks a little bored. The drummer, Jisung - will you ever be able to forget that name? - is on his phone and does not see either of you.

“Mr. Kim,” Changbin says, extending his hand. “I thought you would’ve left by now.”

“Not without saying thanks,” he replies, shaking Changbin’s hand. You conclude he’s the band’s manager. “Call me Seungmin, yeah?”

He looks at the main singer and nudges him with his elbow.

“Right,” Chris smiles. “Thanks for having us. We had a good time.”

“Yeah, it’s a really cool place you got,” Felix, agrees.

They all give smiles and thanks, shaking Changbin’s hand. Your best friend’s grin cannot leave his face. You stand a little behind him, observing the exchange. It’s hard not to gawk. They’re still wearing their stage outfits, and although they look different without the spotlights, you can still feel their energy.

“We’re having a little after-party,” Seungmin explains. “Wanted to extend an invitation.” He glances at you. “You and your staff, of course. Anyone who wants to join.”

“Ooh,” Changbin chuckles. “Hell, why not.”

Seungmin nods. “I’ll text the address then. See you in a bit.”

As they walk away, you exchange a long look with Changbin. You wait until they’re out of sight to gasp loudly, holding on to each other like you’re going to fall on your knees.

“Did they just -” Changbin exclaims. “Did we just get invited to an afterparty?”

“I think we did,” you whisper frenetically. “I think we fucking did.”

“Holy shit!”

This is the first time anything like that has ever happened - usually, if there are after parties, they take place inside the Trades, and it’s with bands or musicians that aren’t very well known. Those who are, even just a little, often leave as soon as their performance is over.

“You know what that means, right,” Changbin giggles. “Not only did they stick around, but they took the time to thank us, and then invite us? What the fuck!”

You laugh hysterically, throwing your arms around Changbin’s neck. You take the time to scream and dance for a minute or two, but then there’s stuff to do. You help your friend settle a few things, leaving the rest in Yuna’s safe hands, who’s not in the mood to party and has worked at the Trades since its opening.

There’s five of you going to the party, so you split two taxis and get to the address Seungmin texted Changbin. It’s already really late when you get there, but you don’t care. This sort of thing never happens and you are going to enjoy it. Besides, if it allows you to steal a few more looks at that hot drummer, you won’t complain.

The place, which you guess is the house the band rented for their time in town, is huge and already filled with people. Nobody asks who you are, and you just join the party like you were there from the start. Changbin is able to find Seungmin, who guides you to the kitchen where there’s a scandalous amount of beer available. You grab a bottle and cheer with your friend.

It’s going to be a good night.

You’re going to lose the game, that much you know - but you’re not going down without a fight. If only your eyes weren’t burning from the exhaustion and the booze, you might’ve stood a chance. But then again, your opponent is good.

Minho has brushed his hair away from his face. His eyes drill into yours, and while they are beautiful, they are, right now, your worst enemies.

You squint as the people around you hold their breath - and after a few more seconds, you can’t take it.

You blink.

The small audience lets out an audible sigh. Minho gives you a smirk.

“Well played.”

You wave your hand, rubbing your teary eyes. You’re not proud, but you can admit defeat, so you nod at him and he pats your shoulder. You'll get him another time. Or not.

It’s incredibly late and horribly early. You’ve been drinking - not too much, but a fair amount. The party is slowly calming down. There’s still music playing, but it’s faint. People are no longer dancing and drinking but rather lounging and chatting. A few are laying on the floor or on the couches, asleep. Someone is snoring nearby. A lot of people have left. Most, in fact. But not you.

You’re still here and you’ve just had a staring contest with Lee Minho - which you’ve lost. You shake your head, letting it fall against Changbin's shoulder. He is half asleep, barely able to keep his eyes open, his head secured against a fluffy cushion. In a minute or two you’ll lose him, but that’s fine - you plan on just curling up next to him and sleeping too.

Except, as you’re about to do exactly that, you spot Han Jisung.

You haven’t seen him much during the night. Not long after you arrived, you saw him flirt with a girl and he disappeared afterwards - you can guess the rest. Not very surprising coming from a member of a rock band. Of course he would have groupies. He was handsome, talented, charismatic. A flirt, too, apparently. Not like you cared, and certainly not like you expected him to remember the wink he gave you - if it had even been intentional. At this point, you’re convinced he didn’t even see you, that you were just a faceless shadow observing him from backstage.

So much for the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

But he’s there now, walking towards the kitchen, wearing distressed jeans and a white t-shirt. His hair is all over the place, his steps a little uneven. You stare at him as he crosses the room - he’ll never see you, anyway.

Changbin's chest is rising and falling regularly now, and you glance at him to confirm he’s fallen asleep. You smile tenderly, pat his cheek, and decide to head to the bathroom before you also get some rest. You head to the hallway, stepping over a few bodies, smiling at Jeongin who’s still playing DJ although the music is at such a low volume you can barely hear it. You ruffle his hair as you pass him.

You step out of the bathroom, thinking to yourself you should get a glass of water, and look up. A few steps away, leaning against the wall, is Han Jisung.

He looks up at you and smiles, his hands in his pockets, his eyeliner a little smudged.

“There you are.”

You’re too surprised to say anything at first, and he chuckles.

“What, you think I forgot about you?”

You blink, trying to gather your thoughts. “Excuse me?”

He smiles, tilting his head a little. “It’s you. You were backstage earlier.”

“How do you know that? It was dark.”

“Not that dark.”

You chuckle, maybe a little nervously. You’re a bit too drunk and tired for this conversation. He just looks at you in response, and you know it deep inside your heart. This guy is dangerous. Dangerously attractive, no doubt. But also just dangerous - the kind to consume your heart in a single bite and not leave a crumb. Exactly what you should avoid.

You cross your arms, looking back at him. “If you knew I was here, why didn’t you come earlier?”

He shrugs. “I thought you’d look for me.”

“There were like a hundred people here,” you sigh. “And when I saw you, you looked a little busy.”

He laughs, shaking his head. His smile - fuck, that smile. Wide and bright and heart-shaped. Fuck.

“Oh, that,” he says. “Yeah. She was all over me, what kind of gentleman would I be to refuse?”

You snort. “For some reason I can’t buy into the whole gentleman thing.”

“I’m hurt.”

“Do I need to remind you you’re a rockstar?”

“Hm. I would have just said musician or “some guy in a band”, but I’ll take rockstar.”

You stare at each other, and you can’t explain it, but you both burst out laughing. Surely, it’s the booze. It has nothing to do with the electricity between you, like you’ve known each other for years, like this is far from being your first ever conversation. What the hell is this?

Is this what people mean when they talk about instant connection? All you’ve known is friendship and trust built by experience and bonding. Not that it’s a bad thing - on the opposite - but this is new for you.

You cover your face with your hands, shaking your head, and Jisung approaches you slowly, his eyes filled with sparks.

“I love your laugh.”

“Oh, come on,” you sigh, rolling your eyes.

You turn to lean against the wall, placing your hands behind your back, and he follows your move, barricading you between the wall and him. He smirks.

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that, rockstar,” you smile at him. “I just know guys like you. Flirts. Fuck boys.”

“Aoutch.”

“Like you don’t know it.”

He doesn’t refute it, his eyes lingering on your face, your nose, your lips, your body. Most of all, your lips. You’re tired and drunk and he smells good - it would be easy to reach out, but you won’t let yourself do it. You want to see what he will do.

And just like that, like he’s reading your mind, he leans in. Your breath hitches but you put a finger against his chest.

“Hm. Haven’t you had enough for one night?” you tell him mischievously.

He groans, and he’s so close to you his breath caresses your lips.

“It’s you I wanted from the start.”

It’s a terribly attractive thing to say, and you try really hard to ignore the fact that you’re turned on. You attempt to focus on little things to take your mind off his smell and his warmth - the fact that your mouth is dry, that a strand of your hair is tickling your ear, that your feet feel heavy in your boots after an entire day in them.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” you whisper.

“All the more reason,” he grins.

He reaches to put said strand of hair behind your ear, removing your itch, and it makes you almost dizzy - so much that you barely see him as he leans towards you again. Your finger, still pointed at his chest, pathetically bends, and your hand ends up sprawled against his shirt. His breath smells like apple flavored liquor. He kisses you.

You know you’re just some random girl for him, one he’ll probably never know the name of, one of many he’ll have made out with on his tour. You know you’re just that, and you should have enough self-respect to push him away and not become yet another groupie on his fuck shelf, but he kisses so well you forget all of that.

Or, well.

You know it, but you choose to forget it.

Han Jisung’s lips taste like chaos. He kisses the exact opposite way he plays the drums, languidly, longingly, almost carefully - he is patient and delicate, yet it is clear he knows what he wants. You wrap your arms around him, and he pushes you against the wall, kissing you deeper.

His hands are in your hair and he slides his tongue against yours, and you moan at the feeling of it, and in this instant you would let him do whatever he likes to you.

You said it.

Dangerous.

You are vaguely aware someone approaches you and stops next to you, but Jisung is still kissing you like it’ll never happen again - and it never will - so you don’t really pay attention to it. It is only when Jisung lips leave yours that you touch back with reality, realizing the voice has been calling his name repeatedly.

“What is it, man?” Jisung asks, his voice low and annoyed.

You’re still hidden in his arms, feeling drunker than you’ve ever been. You can barely open your eyes.

“Sorry,” the voice says. It’s Chris. “But we need to go, like, now. Felix isn’t feeling good.”

You glance at Jisung to see his face has changed. He looks tense, almost sad. It’s a surprising sight and it stirs something inside of you.

Jisung gives Chris a nod. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Chris leaves, and Jisung turns back to you.

“Sorry, baby. Gotta go.”

He gently lifts your chin with his fingers and gives you a last gentle kiss. Your legs can barely keep you up.

Just like that, he walks away and disappears. You know it’s the last you’ll see of him tonight - and probably ever. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but there’s nothing you can do.

You trace your lips with your own tongue.

Apples.

You drag your feet back to Changbin, who is still asleep, and you sit beside him. Feeling disoriented, like your whole life has been taken apart and built back sideways, you wrap yourself around him, close your eyes, and let sleep steal you away.

The barista slides the two full cardboard trays of coffee on the counter and you thank him with a smile. It’s heavy and impractical, but luckily you only have to go next door.

As much as you love the Trades during the night, when it’s packed and loud and stifling, you adore it during the day. If the weather is nice, like today, the doors remain open to let the fresh air in, and there’s a spot at the booths, where you usually sit, that catches the light just right. You head there first, leaving your bags and your own coffee, and then you make a round around the place to give the other cups to the people you meet.

Jeongin is making repairs on his sound console and he accepts the coffee with a nod. Andy, the janitor, takes the next one, and soon you’re left with just one. You head upstairs to Changbin's office, and seeing that the door is closed, you knock. It’s the code everyone knows - an open door means you can go in. A closed one means knocking.

You wait for a few seconds, and when the door opens, Changbin only lets his head through - you see there’s someone in there with him. Soft brown hair and a black coat. Could be anyone. You just hand him his coffee, and he thanks you with a smile. You’re curious to know who he’s meeting, but you’ll just ask later.

That’s the beauty of your friendship with Changbin. There’s absolutely nothing complicated about it. Since day one, you have been completely open with each other about everything, so ambiguity has never been an issue. Nothing ever lingers - you just talk about it. Good things, bad things, uncertain things.

It’s an affectionate friendship, but it’s also a brutal one. You both have strong personalities, and everyone expects you to clash, and you do. But you do it in a way that is so open and true it never results in actual conflict.

Changbin keeps you steady, Changbin knows you, and Changbin learns with you. To be human, to do better - but also to accept you’ll always have your flaws.

Whistling a Side Effects song - it’s been stuck in your head - you head back to your usual booth and sit down. You take off your jacket, open your laptop and plug in your headphones.

It’s difficult for you to find places where you manage to be productive when working. Your own apartment is often too warm; cafés are a nightmare; but the Trades, however, is perfect. There’s just an energy that gets your creative juices going, and you’ve been enjoying it as much as you can.

You take a long sip of coffee and get to work.

About twenty minutes later, you see Changbin crossing the room towards the main entrance with someone - the person he was in a meeting with, obviously. You recognize Seungmin, Side Effects’ manager. They seem to be on friendly terms, so you’re wondering why they met. You can’t resist the temptation to take off your headphones to try and listen, but they’re too far away.

It’s been two days since the party and you can’t think about much else, although you keep telling yourself it’s pathetic. Still, you’re intrigued. You thought the band would’ve left town by now. Clearly, they haven’t.

Changbin appears a minute later, sitting down on the booth in front of you with a smirk you can only describe as ecstatic. You raise an eyebrow.

“Tell me you still have the file for your poster,” he tells you.

“Always,” you frown. “Why?”

He scrunches his nose and leans towards you.

“Because you’ll have to add something to it. Encore.”

“Wha - WHAT? WHEN?!”

“In two days.”

“TWO DAYS?”

Changbin explains that the band’s next scheduled performances have been canceled due to a flood in the venue. Since their tour would only resume a few days later, they had some free time ahead and decided to stay in town.

They offered to perform another time at the Trades because they loved the place, and Changbin certainly wasn’t going to refuse. A last-minute show on a Wednesday would be a challenge to organize, but it could be done. It would be done.

Giving Changbin a tight hug with a squeal of excitement, you immediately get to work on the design of the poster announcing the new date. The rush of adrenaline is inducing a rush of inspiration, and you have it wrapped up in a few hours.

Once you’ve sent the file to the printer, you lean back against the booth and realize you’re hungry. You remember you still have leftovers in your fridge, so you decide to head home. You throw your bag around your shoulder but leave your headphones around your neck for when you’re outside. It’s quiet in the Trades, but you glance around the room to see if anyone is there so you can say goodbye.

There’s only one person there, sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging his legs and looking around. For a second you think your eyes must be deceiving you, but it’s him. Han Jisung.

He’s wearing grey jeans covered in patches of different patterns. His oversized red and black striped sweater is torn here and there, his dark hair in disarray. To complete his look, he wears a thin leather choker around his neck and a variety of bracelets on his wrists, and his nails are painted pitch black.

Whatever he might say, he does look like a rockstar.

You don’t know if you know him well enough to just approach him like that, but you figure that his tongue being in your mouth less than forty hours ago must count for something, so you take a few tentative steps towards the stage.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

He turns his head in mild curiosity, and once he sees you, grins widely.

“I was hoping to find you here,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Sure you were.”

“Sorry. It was too easy,” Jisung chuckles.

“Seriously, why are you here?”

He shrugs, the heels of his leather boots hitting the stage as he keeps swaying his legs.

“I was really bored, so I took a walk. Ended up here, and the doors were wide open,” he explains.

He looks up to the ceiling, a strand of hair brushing his forehead and falling in front of his right eye.

“I love to see venues when they’re empty. They’re this special feeling about them.”

“I know what you mean,” you agree with a smile. “It’s calm, but there’s still… this lingering tension.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Jisung nods, looking back at you, eyeing you up and down.

You feel a little casual compared to him in your baggy jeans and crewneck, your hair tied behind your hair with a claw clip, not wearing any makeup. You must look like a different person from the other night, but Jisung does not make you feel self-conscious. He looks at you exactly the same, with an intrigued gleam and a charming smile.

“Where are you heading?” he asks.

“Home,” you reply. “To eat.”

“Ooh,” he chants, jumping down from the stage. “I’m in.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“I kinda feel like a cheeseburger, though,” he states, walking towards you with purpose. He stops in front of you. “I’m paying.”

You open your mouth to argue with him, but then you realize you don’t want to. Free food and pretty entertaining company? Why not. You nod.

“Lead the way,” he says with a grin.

In a couple of steps you’re standing outside under a timid sun. You point to the left, and Jisung follows you.

“So what do you do here, exactly?” he asks, nodding towards the Trades.

“Nothing,” you say. “I don’t work there, not really.”

He frowns. “So why are you -”

“Changbin is my oldest friend. I helped him put the place together, and it’s kind of just… where I hang out. I designed the logo, though.”

“You did that?” Jisung wonders, pointing to the sign.

“Yeah.”

“Damn,” he whistles. “Looks really cool.”

You thank him with a smile. Although you’re always hard on yourself when it comes to work, you are proud of what you did for the Trades. Not that you would have accepted anything less than perfection, anyway.

“I did the posters for your show, too,” you add.

Jisung gives you a smile that you would call impressed, and you feel a tang of pride in your heart.

“So you’re a graphic designer?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Tell me about it.”

You have no idea why he’s interested, but you indulge him, telling him more about your work as you head towards the closest diner. It’s not a fancy place, far from it, but they do have the best cheeseburgers in the neighborhood, in your opinion. Jisung doesn’t look like the fancy type, anyway. As you watch and listen to him, you feel like he’s more the type of person that can adapt to every environment they’re in.

Being constantly on the road as he is, you guess it must be a good quality to possess. Has he always been like that, though? Or is it something he picked up along the way to make it easier?

Something about him just tickles your curiosity.

You sit down on a booth of worn black leather and the waitress brings you the menu. Jisung doesn’t look at it - just at you.

“Were you born here?”

“Yes.”

“You never left?”

“Nope.”

“Not even for traveling?”

“Just once. Went to London.”

“For what?”

“Fun.”

“Hm.”

“Are we done with the interrogation?”

To your surprise, Jisung lets out a loud laugh, sliding his hand through his hair.

“Sorry. I meet so many people, and I rarely have the chance to get to know them. This is new.”

“So I’m the first human being apart from your band and management you are able to have a conversation with in what, weeks?”

“Months.”

“No pressure, then.”

His smile stays on his face, large and luminous. You kind of like it. The waitress comes back to take your order, and you ask for two cheeseburgers, two sodas, and a large plate of fries to share.

Jisung keeps asking you questions. You tell him about how you met Changbin - kindergarten - what was the best concert of your life - not his - and what your favorite font is - depends on the day.

You get your food not long after, and as you pick up your burger, you decide to turn the table on him a little. Only fair, right?

“So you’ve been bored and wandering around. What about the rest of the band?” you ask as he takes a bit of his burger. “What have they been doing?”

“Sleeping,” Jisung answers with his mouth full. He swallows. “Fuck, this is a good burger.”

“Must be grateful for the rest,” you say.

Jisung shakes his head. “Not all of them. Minho can’t stay still to save his life. He’s climbing up the walls already.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Really? He looks so… calm.”

“He’s so weird,” Jisung laughs.

You hear the tenderness in his voice, and you catch a glimpse of the bond that must be linking them. You felt it, even when they were on stage. They were more than a band - they were brothers.

“And the other two?” you ask, simply out of curiosity.

“Chris is fine. He doesn’t say it but he’s glad to be able to stay in. Work on music. Watch movies.”

Jisung’s eyes darken.

“Felix… sleeps. A lot.”

You can hear something there, but you don’t want to ask. It’s none of your business, after all. Still, Jisung explains.

“He’s been through shit recently. So it’s good he can sleep.”

You smile softly. “You’re really close, right? The four of you.”

“Yeah,” Jisung nods. “With Seungmin, too.”

The softness on his face is new, but it does not last too long. Quickly, his smirk comes back, his eyes full of mischief.

“You like video games?”

You expect Jisung to bring you back to the house where the party took place, but instead he walks you to an apartment building. He explains that the house would’ve been too expensive for a longer stay - it’s not like they were millionaires - so they found this place on Airbnb for cheap. It’s smaller, but more than big enough for the four of them. The rest of the crew shared another place a few blocks over.

“The four of us lived in a shoebox for the longest time while we were in our garage phase,” Jisung says as he closes the door behind you. “So this is luxurious.”

He doesn’t bother to give you a tour, but you don’t care. Leaving your bag in the hallway, you follow him to the kitchen.

“That was a long-ass walk you took.”

Minho is glaring at Jisung, wearing two oven mitts and a neon pink bucket hat. The kitchen smells delicious, and you glance at the oven to try and see what is cooking in there.

“Found a stray cat,” Jisung says, waving at you.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Cute of you to act like it wasn’t you that was lost.”

“I wasn’t lost. Just bored.”

Minho stares at you - or, well, you think he is. His eyes are completely hidden under his hat and his hair. He raises an oven mitt towards you, and you have to guess he’s pointing.

“Staring contest girl.”

“Not the worst nickname I’ve heard,” you pout.

“What was?” Jisung asks.

“You’ll never know.”

Minho chuckles.

“Made some meat pies if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, bro.”

You frown as he grabs a plate to get a slice.

“But you just ate -”

You stop and shrug. One thing you’ll never judge or pretend to understand is how a person’s stomach works.

Minho and Jisung start whispering between themselves, and it seems like you hear Felix’s name, so you give them some space. In the meanwhile, you wander around the apartment, check out the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and then enter the living room. It’s a cozy space with a large sectional and a huge TV. You glance around for a good thirty seconds before you notice there’s someone sitting in a window nook. He hasn’t seen you, his eyes focused on his computer. Piled up on his head is a beanie, a pair of headphones and a hoodie. Chris. Jisung’s description was accurate.

“Don’t mind him,” Jisung tells you as he reappears next to you. “When he’s like that he’s not conscious of the outside world. You could be walking around naked he wouldn’t notice.”

“Sounds like a theory you’ve tested before.”

“Oh, yeah.”

You both plop down on the couch, laughing, and Jisung turns on the console. He hands you a controller and you start to play Crash Bandicoot, not really talking. You enjoy taking your mind off things, not really thinking about the situation you are in. Why are you here, after all? There’s no clear reason apart from the fact that you like Jisung. But you aren’t the type to question things too much - most of the time you prefer to just follow the path life takes you on.

For now it’s taken you here.

You spend the next few hours playing and eating snacks. At some point, Felix emerges from his room and sits on an armchair, dizzily staring at the screen. He looks exhausted, snuggled in a hoodie that is way too big for him, black hair curling around his ears.

When your eyes get tired Minho takes your place, playing a few games with Jisung as you text with Changbin. He reminds you you’re supposed to go to a birthday party that night, and you let out an irritated sigh.

“Fuck me,” you hiss through your teeth, resisting the urge to throw your phone across the room.

“Sure,” Jisung grins at you.

When you glare back, he chuckles.

“What’s up?”

“I have to go to this thing tonight. Birthday party.”

“Hm. Sounds fun.”

“Really not. The girl is a nightmare but she can’t, for the life of her, understand we’re not friends anymore, and that Bin will never be interested in her pathetic ass. All she does is show off how much money she has.”

“Wow,” Minho laughs. “Now I kinda want to meet her.”

“Good idea,” Jisung nods. “We’re not doing anything tonight, anyway, and I don’t know for you guys, but I don’t want to spend my entire night shut up in here. Let’s go.”

You shake your head.

“No way.”

“Think about it, Y/N,” Minho says, placing his elbows on his thighs. “Bringing us as guests would shut her right up.

“And I need to get really drunk,” Felix states, all of a sudden.

It’s the first words he’s spoken since he got out of his room, and while you look at him in surprise, the other two seem used to it.

“Then let’s do it,” Jisung claims, clapping his hands.

“I have to go home and change, though. If I show up like that she’ll start a rumor I’m homeless or something,” you sigh.

Jisung waves his hand. “That’s fine. I’ll come with you and help you choose a killer outfit. You guys meet us there, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get Chris when he emerges from the deep,” Minho nods.

Jisung takes your hand and lifts you off the couch. He guides you back to the hallway and slides on his boots.

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say. “We can meet there.”

“I wanna see your place,” Jisung simply responds.

Maybe you should be freaked out or annoyed at the game he’s playing. You know he’s just trying to get to know you, that you’re an adventure for him, but it also feels like he wants to assimilate as much as he possibly can before time runs out. It’s cute, but it’s also unnerving. What will he do with all this knowledge of you, once he leaves? Will he forget? Will you become a fond memory, or one that will fade away over time?

You shouldn’t indulge him, because you’ll probably end up getting hurt. But at the same time, it’s stimulating for you, too. Letting someone in. Letting him see who you are, every part of you, knowing it’s temporary. Then he can walk away, carrying pieces of you. There’s a beauty to that you can’t yet grasp.

When you arrive at your place, you let him walk around to look at what he wants, heading for your room. It’s not a big apartment, nor is it in perfect shape, but you made it yours. You and Changbin took the lease most particularly for the bathroom, which is more spacious than any you’ve seen in the city. In exchange, both of your bedrooms are kind of tiny, but it’s not like you have people over very often. If you do, it’s agreed you’ll find another place to stay for the night.

You remove your clothes of the day, changing your underwear and slipping on a short leather skirt. You’re zipping it up when the door of your room opens on Jisung, who strolls in like he lives there.

“What the fuck?” you let out, covering your chest - you’re only wearing a bra.

“You told me to make myself at home,” Jisung smirks, sitting down on your bed, sliding his hand on your comforter.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Come on,” he says. “You’re almost dressed already. Love the skirt. Is this the shirt you’re planning on wearing?”

He lifts the piece of clothing, a black tank top that laces on the front, and hands it to you. You snag it from his hand, slipping it on swiftly. He eyes you up and down.

“What about accessories?”

He stands up, walking to your dresser, and opens your jewelry box. You stare at him, absolutely mind blown at his behavior.

“Oh. Love that. That’s hot,” he says, handing you a lace choker you haven’t worn in ages.

“Having fun playing dress-up, are we?” you laugh.

He winks at you, and proceeds to choose the rest of your outfit. Cherry earrings, silver rings, and loose hair. Once he’s done, he twirls you around, biting his lip.

“Perfect,” he says, slipping a hand on your waist to pull you close. “Thoroughly fuckable, if I might say so.”

“Thanks?” you answer with a giggle.

“Y/N,” he breathes, taking a step towards you. “C’m’here.”

Before you can answer anything, he plunges his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your smell, and places a kiss there that sends shivers all over your body. You close your eyes.

“Jisung…”

“It’s not the outfit,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve thought about fucking you all day.”

You do your best not to let out a moan right there, instead biting your lip hard as he keeps kissing your neck.

“Jisung,” you breathe. “I just got dressed.”

“I don’t want you to undress.”

You frown as he pushes you towards the bed. You lay down, eyes on him. Outside the blue is fading to black, enveloping the room in a heavy purple, and there’s something earnest and intimate about it. You’ve been on edge ever since that kiss he gave you - and you’ve so desperately wanted to know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been interrupted.

You have somewhere to be, but you don’t care. Jisung is at your apartment and visibly also wants to pick up things where you left them off. You are not going to waste the opportunity.

Jisung’s hands spread your legs, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses on your thighs.

“Just want to get a taste,” he mutters.

Your breath hitches as he pushes up your skirt, lips brushing your skin. He makes his way between your legs, finally setting his mouth on your underwear. At this point you are writhing around him, desperate for a direct touch.

“Getting wet for me so fast,” he breathes. “How can I resist you?”

“No one talked of resisting,” you answer in a sigh.

He chuckles. “Fair point. Can I?”

You nod, and he draws your underwear aside, leaving you exposed to his eyes. You spread some more for him, pulling up your skirt, and he does not waste another second. His lips embrace your wetness, his tongue swirling around your clit. You let out a shaky sigh, your fingers reaching for his hair. Your thoughts wander, far away from your reach, as you just enjoy Jisung’s caresses.

He hums against you as you roll your hips against his mouth. It’s working wonders for you, your pleasure building quickly.

“That’s good, baby,” he breathes. “Make yourself come in my mouth.”

You’re hot, your body tense, Jisung making out with your cunt. His tongue makes a quick work of it, and you come not long after. You shiver delightfully, and it takes you a while to come down. As you do, Jisung gently replaces your underwear where it was, contemplating the drenched fabric with a satisfied smile.

“Now you can walk around all evening in your soaked underwear, courtesy of me, and I’ll have your taste on my tongue,” he says in a low voice, his smirk all the right kinds of dirty.

You’re still riding the high of your orgasm, so you don’t really find the right words. You just smile at him.

“You’re fucking insane.”

“Just trying to enjoy the time I have.”

The taxi drops you off in front of your friend’s house. Jisung hands him a few bills and comes to stand next to you, admiring the place.

It’s huge, outrageously so, the typical rich person’s, and you absolutely hate it. From the judgemental look on Jisung’s face, so does he.

You put a hand on his shoulder. “You asked for it.”

Felix, Chris and Minho are already inside, according to Jisung’s phone, and it takes you a while to find them - the house is packed and loud.

“Have you seen Changbin?” you ask them, but they shake their heads.

You check your phone - no news from your friend. He’s probably running late or has a last minute hold up. You decide to stick around anyway. You’re dressed up, you’re here, and you have company.

You get drinks and sit between Jisung and Chris. You talk a lot to the latter, who, now that he doesn’t have his head in his computer, proves to be really fun company. You discuss productivity and creative slumps, interrupted here and there by the occasional fan asking for an autograph or a picture. Jisung is busy playing cards with Minho, his hand on your thigh. Felix is flirting with a few people, drinking fast, his smile widening with every second.

When your friend comes into your field of vision, and eyes you with annoyed envy, you are so happy you could sing. You wish her a happy birthday, the band too, and for once she has absolutely nothing to say.

“Changbin didn’t come?” she asks as a last resort.

“Sorry, he couldn’t make it,” you reply with a fake pout, trying to hold back your laughter.

When she leaves, dumbfounded and annoyed, you laugh hysterically with Jisung for so long you have tears streaming down your cheeks and your sides hurt.

As the night advances, Jisung’s hand rides higher and higher on your thigh. His eyes get glassy with the alcohol, as do yours - in fact, everyone gets pretty wasted. Chris and Minho share a joint, keeping an eye on Felix. Despite the chaotic ambiance around you, you five stay pretty calm, chilling on the couch you claimed, talking or playing silly games.

A few other people join you for a classic game of never have I ever - except you’re all too drunk already to play with drinks, so you agree on changing the rules. If you have, you kiss the person to your right.

“Never have I ever been naked in public,” Felix proposes.

His eyes are lit up like fireworks, and he stares at Chris, who shakes his head.

“Oh my gosh…”

“You HAVE to, Chris!” Felix cackles. “We all saw you!”

“What’s the story?” you ask, laughing.

“Nothing interesting. You don’t want to know,” Chris sighs.

“I do!” you retort.

“A simple story, really,” Minho explains, twirling a joint between his fingers. “He went to take a shower at the camping site we were staying at, and I stole his clothes.”

You all burst out laughing, and Felix claps his hands.

“C’mon, now. Kisses. On the mouth.”

Felix receives a kiss from the girl next to him, which surprises him - and Chris turns to you.

“It’s the game, right?" he laughs. "Sorry, Ji.”

“No harm, man.”

“You’re okay with it, right?” Chris asks you.

You nod, amused. Chis leans in, a smirk on his face, and slides his fingers in your hair. His lips are plump, kissing you gently, and you feel yourself melt a little. You almost don’t want to stop, your hand falling against his chest. The booze makes your tongue act on its own, dancing with his, and Chris indulges. It takes a minute before you lean back, falling back on the couch.

“Fuck, damn,” you laugh. Your cheeks are red. “You’re a good kisser.”

“So are you,” Chris smiles.

“That was hot,” Jisung lets out with a solemn nod.

You hide your face in his neck, giggling like a teenager, and the game continues. At the next question, Minho kisses the guy next to him, and you appreciate the sight a little too much. Your senses are getting tangled - between the booze, the weed, Jisung’s warm fingers around your thigh, Chris’ tongue and the sight of so many people making out, you’re officially horny.

It doesn’t help that you still feel your wet underwear against your cunt, reminding you of the joys of Jisung’s tongue.

You bite your lip, waiting for the right moment. Finally, a girl asks never have I ever stolen a car, and nobody moves - except you. You fall against Jisung, pulling him into a needy kiss. The people around you start yelling and laughing.

“What the fuck!”

“STOP MAKING OUT, WE NEED THE STORY,” Felix screams.

“I don’t think we’ll get the story tonight, bro,” Chris tells him with a chuckle.

He’s right, because you’re lost in your kiss, Jisung’s hands all over you. You don’t even care that there’s dozens of people around. You devour his lips, get drunker on his taste. You want him, you need him - and he kisses you deep and passionately. One of his hands grip your ass and you moan softly.

“I think we’ve lost them,” Minho says.

“Hey,” Chris says in your ear. “Get a fucking room.”

A giggle escapes your mouth and Jisung pulls away from you. His lips are already swollen, and the sight is so attractive you have no idea how your legs are able to hold your weight as he pulls you on your feet.

“Have a good time,” Felix sings as you walk away.

You wave at them, letting Jisung guide you through a house neither of you really know. You stumble through the crowd, stopping to kiss sometimes, and you can’t wait to be alone. It’s proving to be complicated, though, because every door you come across is either locked or already has people busy behind it. You scoff and snicker until you find a door that has a piece of paper taped on it.

PRIVATE DO NOT ENTER

You exchange a knowing look with Jisung. No words needed. He turns the handle and you see stairs leading down. You close the door behind you, lock it, stumbling down the stairs to the basement.

When you get there, you gasp.

It’s a beautiful room, with thick, fancy carpets and the biggest TV you’ve ever seen. There’s a bar in the corner, and on a wall, a collection of guitars. You stare in awe at everything, Jisung standing behind you, kissing your neck.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

For a second you forget all about Jisung, running towards the guitar displayed on the far right. It’s the same, you realize. The exact same model.

“That’s a rare one,” Jisung says, sliding next to you. “Worth a fortune.”

“My mom had one,” you tell him with a smile. “She found it at a flea market. Guy had no idea what he had. She paid 11 dollars for it.”

Jisung smiles even more widely. “It was meant to be.”

“Yeah.”

You smile fondly at the memory. It soothes you, envelops you. You forget where you are, for a second, although your entire body is drunk on Jisung.

“You play?” he asks you, his eyes not leaving yours, his hand putting a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“A little,” you admit.

“Then let’s hear it.”

“No, Ji, you can’t touch -”

You might not know him that well, but one thing you are learning about Jisung is that he does not care. So it’s without hesitation that he grabs the guitar from the display and hands it to you. You laugh, carefully taking it.

You sit down on the floor, the guitar in your arms, and you gently brush the strings. Jisung sits in front of you, leaning against the back of a couch.

Before you know it, you’re playing a melody you know like the back of your hand. With your eyes closed, and just the sound of music to guide you, it all feels like a dream. The basement, the party, even Jisung, it all fades - you’re alone with the guitar for a few seconds.

When you open your eyes again, at the end of the song, Jisung is staring at you with wide eyes and a parted mouth.

“A little?” he repeats.

You laugh. “Ok. More than a little.”

“You didn’t tell me you’re a musical genius.”

“I’m not.”

He lifts an index. “I’ve heard a lot of people play the guitar. I’m not just saying this. I think I’m lowkey in love with you, now.”

You smile at him, at his dark hair and his round eyes, at the line of eyeliner under them, at the choker around his neck, at the red and black sweater you were gripping desperately minutes ago.

“Same to you,” you admit.

He grins and crawls over to give you a kiss. The guitar falls beside you, immediately forgotten. Jisung hums against your lips.

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you in a hoarse voice.

“Yes please,” you answer, and he laughs.

You remove his sweater and let your fingers wander around his chest, touching his skin. It feels warm. Still kissing you, he unlaces your top, cupping your breasts. He teases your sensitive nipples, drawing a soft cry from your lips. You arch your back, thrusting your hips against his. You can feel his hard cock under his jeans, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around the bulge to stroke him. Jisung grunts in your mouth, and suddenly bites your lower lip.

You jump in your surprise, letting out a moan.

“Keep moaning for me, baby,” he whispers, gliding his teeth across your lips. “You sound so hot.”

“Fuck, Ji. I’ve been dreaming about that cock.”

You unbuckle his belt and take him out of his boxers. He’s hard, and you lift your hand to your mouth, slowly licking your palm. You keep your eyes on him while you do it, and he stares back at you, mouth parted, taking in the sight. Then, you start to stroke him, coating his length with your spit.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Jisung growls.

He roughly takes your hand away, enclosing his fingers around your wrist, and pins it against the carpet. He lays you down as you bite your lip in amusement, glancing at his erection - and you can almost see him pulsating. He doesn’t let go of your arm, pushes up your skirt and pulls down your panties at the same time, and slides his fingers against your pussy.

You shudder as he chuckles.

“You’re still so fucking wet, baby.”

“It was all the kissing,” you admit with a smile.

You kiss his jawline, his neck, his ear, as he keeps rubbing his fingers against your wetness. You’re clenching around nothing, your hips moving in search of pressure - but Jisung keeps his caresses light.

“Chris got you good, didn’t he?”

“He did,” you breathe, although you can barely find the words.

“Got me, too, to see you make out,” he replies, keeping his voice low. “Maybe one day I can watch you fuck.”

As he says the words, he inserts two fingers inside of you, and you let out a choked whimper.

“Fuck, Ji, don’t say shit like that,” you cry out.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you want to?”

“Right now, I just want you,” you say, and you mean it.

He smiles against your lips as you kiss him. You sit up slightly, and he liberates you, taking his fingers out of you. He slides them into his mouth, cleaning them.

“The taste was almost gone,” he explains, and you smile.

You give yourself a boost to turn him around so you can straddle him. You place yourself so your folds grind against his cock, swaying your hips slowly. He lets out a deep breath, and you throw your head back. Your hands sprawl on his chest as you keep moving, and you know you’re making a mess, smearing your wetness on his skin, but you don’t care.

“Fuck, yes, baby,” he moans.

You glance at him with a smile.

“You like that?”

“I do. Are you coming?”

“I’m close.”

“Then stop. I want you to come around my dick.”

Not that you could refuse him. He takes out a condom from his back pocket - you don’t question why he would have that ready - and hands it to you. You get him ready, your fingers trembling slightly.

“Going to pound that pussy so good,” Jisung whispers to you, placing your hair behind your ears, cupping your cheek.

You rub his length against you to lubricate, and then slowly ease him in. A curse escapes your lips, and Jisung secures his hands on your hips. You accelerate gradually, and soon you are fucking him, your capacity to think escaping you. He helps you by bucking his hips, deepening the thrusts.

One of his hands travels across your stomach, squeezes your breast.

“So pretty,” he moans.

“You’re so fucking deep inside me,” you breathe out.

“C’m’here, baby,” he grunts, pulling you towards him, so you lean against his chest.

He places your arm behind your back, pinning you in place, and your knees fall on either side of him. Then, he starts hammering into you. The way he holds you, you can barely move, and the sensation is so intense it instantly makes you see stars.

“Holy shit, Ji,” you whimper. “I’m coming…”

“Come, pretty thing,” he whispers in your ear.

You come undone around him, shaking violently as he keeps you in place. Your moans echo through the basement, and maybe you’re being too loud, but you don’t care. You’re pretty sure no one can hear you above the deafening music from upstairs, anyway. Jisung continues to thrust into you, placing a few languid kisses on your neck until you’ve come down. Only then does he slow down.

“How was that, baby?” he asks, still rolling his hips.

“So fucking good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he smiles. “Stand up for me.”

You nod and manage to push yourself on your wobbly legs. You lean against the couch, and a part of you just wants to lay down on it. But Jisung has another idea. He stands up as well, pulling you in his arms.

“Sit here,” he says, and pats the back of the couch.

He pushes the hair away from your face, kissing you deeply, his cock brushing your pussy. He’s still so hard - you know he’s not done with you. You settle on the top of the couch, spreading your legs. Jisung takes his pulsating cock and guides it inside of you again, keeping your legs apart.

You’re already getting too used to having him there, because your body hums in approval, and your pleasure immediately starts building back up. It feels like he’s filling every inch of you, his breath heavy on your neck, thrusting into you in deep, languorous moves.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” you mutter.

“It’s because you take me so well, baby,” he grins. “But I like your compliments.”

You bite your lip. “Praise kink?”

“Y’know it.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his earlobes, licking his neck. You start to suck at the skin there, intent on leaving a trace, and he growls.

“You’re look so fucking sexy right now, Ji,” you breathe in his ear. “I love your cock. I love how you fuck me with it. You’re so beautiful and you made me come so hard.”

You feel him twitch inside of you, and you can’t help but smile. You hum, planting a few kisses along his jawline.

“Is there anything you can’t do, Ji?” you breathe, although he starts thrusting into you so hard you have a hard time aligning your words. “Such a good kisser, and you… You fuck so well… And the way you play…”

He moans, slamming into you. The sound of your voice, of his breathing, of his skin slapping against yours becomes a blissful symphony.

“When I saw you playing the drums… Fuck, I just fell in love with you,” you say.

You don’t know how you’re still talking because he’s moving faster and faster, bringing you to the edge again.

“Your fingers around the sticks… The way you hit the drums… So fast and brutal…”

“Fuck, baby…” he whimpers.

“You’re magic, Ji,” you cry out. “Everything that you are is magic.”

He moves his head to capture your lips again, and you moan in his mouth. Your kisses are feverish, disorderly.

“I’m coming again,” you moan.

“Don’t hold it back, baby, fuck, keep clenching like that,” he says.

You’re seconds away from coming when he does, and the feeling of his cock bursting into you is almost too much to handle. Your orgasm reverberates in your entire body, his too - and after a few seconds of delightful chaos you breathe out against each other, panting.

When you’re able, you open your eyes. His remain closed, and you admire the sweat on his skin, the slightly smudged makeup. You must look as much of a mess as he is.

You place a chaste kiss on his lower lip, and he opens his eyes to smile at you.

“I don’t want to move,” he says.

“Me neither,” you admit.

“Let’s just stay like that for a few more seconds.”

You nod, your head falling on his shoulder. After a minute, however, your legs start to waver, and you reluctantly move away from each other. Luckily there’s a bathroom in the basement, so you go together to clean up. He helps you lace your top back on and you insist on putting back his belt yourself.

He strokes your hair. Kisses you on the temple. Keeps your hand in his as you walk back upstairs.

You feel dizzy. You feel good.

This is dangerous.

Jisung will be leaving soon.

He’ll forget you and you’ll have to do the same.

All in good time.

Felix has fallen asleep on Chris’ shoulder, who is texting on his phone. Minho is playing a card game with the guy from earlier - when you approach them, he gives you a nod.

“You two look fucked out.”

“Let’s go home,” Jisung says, ruffling Minho’s hair.

You watch as the two boys walk away, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders. Although you’re exhausted your smile doesn’t leave you, and you help Chris wake Felix. The guitarist groans but still follows you, and you steal a bowl of chips on your way out so you can eat them in the taxi.

You get to the band’s rental and everyone heads for their bedrooms - you leave the empty bowl on the kitchen counter, following Jisung to his bed. You both fall against the mattress, entangling your limbs together, and you sleep.

Thank you for reading! I really hope you liked it, please let me know if you did. See you soon for part two!

#han smut #han x reader #han x you #han x y/n #han jisung smut #han jisung x y/n #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids smut #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you

598 notes · View notes