ﾟ*✩‧₊˚ my ao3 user is : luvlybambi
yes~~ this fic is indeed 16k words and it's like my first smut i think yeaaa @-@ ahhh sorry for taking so long!! i will be more active after this because i have such amazing requests omg >_< please be kind!! ﾟ*✩‧₊˚

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His nights started when his days ended.
Rouge on his lips and prepaid liquor on the counter.

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" Pretty.. "
He gasped at his own reflection, alluring. He was drenched, soaked, soused with deep seraphic beauty. The opulent blue moonlight glistened gently upon his hypnotic eyes. Brown and timeless.
Call him bold, narcissistic even,he was irresistible. "Temptation", as they like to call him.

A single white skirt,elegant yet pure. Hugged his hips while his blouse, two buttons left unbuttoned, a silent statement. It drowned him, arms not long enough for his fingers to show, consumed by the sleeves. He was such a tiny little boy, but he had such a big heart, and an even bigger insatiable hunger to be ruined. To be messy, to be so utterly wrecked without a care in the world. Such a desire burned so deeply into his bones, filling his pupils with burning want.

His plump lips, so kissable as rouge, highlighted his soft gentle yet powerful beauty. The pillowy flesh, glossy against matte. He puckered his lips before pressing them against the mirror. A kiss.

His lip stain, centred on the looking glass. A kiss on his own reflection. His crystallized beauty was reflected as pearls strung together by golden lines hung on the mirror frame. Aphrodite's spell while love twinkled.

His neck was thin, flawless. Putting on a pearl necklace rested, subtly touching his collarbones with the intention of it being ripped off him.

Lacy socks that were cloying, innocent yet suggestive. He then slipped into shoes a size too big for him, sock-clad feet against the cushioning.

He pondered on the thought of bringing his cassette player, " Hey Lover ", poetry with rhythm as something to ground himself.

It wasn't needed today.

The moon was on his side.

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He strutted, one foot after the other as his heels made sounds,'clack- clack' against the linoleum. His angelic eyes roamed around the bodies clinging to one another, afraid of letting go in the darkness.

Fog from light up bowls, sugaring, decaying. Jubilant smiles as they smoked their pipe, laughing with unfocused eyes and the fear of dreaming. Earthquakes shake the dust behind them. Smoke covering their melting faces, defeated but happy. Giving in.

The air was putrid and neon, yet nostalgic and yearning. Jisung let his hands trace the wood of the counter, recalling the bourbon he used to drown in. Flashing lights, indecisive spotlights with headaches blessed as a gift.

" Do you need anything? "
The bartender asked, muscular arms and chest. He smelt like liquor and a hint of cedar wood, sober and drunk. The jazzy music seemingly softened and the chatter and unhinged laughter of others soon drowned into the background. Warm, orange lights that made Jisung dizzy with delight as he watched the male. Seductive eyes, careful of his intensity.

" Bourbon. " Jisung answered, heart ramming against his rib cage, begging to be let out and toyed with.
"P-Please? " , he quickly added, giving his best set of puppy eyes, tempting with little thought in them.

" As you wish, sweetheart."
He left jisung with his legs swinging back and forth, a little too short to reach the floor. Playing with his sleeves, twisting and turning, just like his stomach.
'Sweetheart', ringing in his mind.

Gluttonous, unrelenting, wishing. Not completely gone, still peacefully existing. Tipsy as he stared at the majestic-looking man before him, high-pitched giggles as his muscles tense, flexing, making a fool of jisung.

Through half lidded eyes and soft static sound, leather shoes against the floor, the rustling of something and the rubbing of palm against palm.

" Hey Changbin. "
The cohesion of three other voices, manly and deep.
One of them adjusted their suits, straightening his tie.
" Changbin.. "
His voice was soft, watery as the name he learnt today rolled off his tongue. Not knowing that he would definitely be calling the other something else later on. Unaware, blissful yet longing.

" Who's this cutie here? "

A particularly husky voice flooded his ears, hair stood at the back of his neck. His fantasies, regarded as sick and twisted, were washed away by another swing of bourbon.

Their small talk, an introduction of names which Jisung had tried to pronounce, softly spoken like they were Gods.

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His arm brushed against Jisung's thinly covered sleeve, cotton a little see-through, making the smaller jolt in surprise. Pleasant.

" Hmm... I don't see too many pretty little boys around here. "
Minho remarked, staring at Jisung's dainty frame, his lips pouted yet his expression wasn't soured. Far from that. It was filled with desire.

Jisung. Oh.. sweet Jisung. How he wanted to answer like any normal person would, a small, " Thank you". For such a compliment from such a stunning person was certainly the blessing of the Heavens and other divine spirits.

He sighed softly, knowing it would drown under the ear-crushing atmosphere.

" Hmm.. I see too many guys like you who think you're the shit. "
Jisung fired back. Feigned spite, ignorance with concentrated adrenaline, canned and contained. His spirit was wild and untamed although his voice gave out, trembling.

Wordlessly, the monotonous drag of a shot glass, condensed water gems becoming a puddle of melted past. The steady drumming of fingers against wood, Jisung's heartbeat surpassing the repeated rhythm.

Out of the corner of his eye, the said male was downing his fourth shot of whiskey, liquor his lips.
Minho bit back a smirk. He was going to have so much fun Jisung.

" You're a feisty one, aren't you?
Chan spoke, rolling the metal sparkwheel up and down, orange sparks on and off. The flame of his lighter was so close to Jisung, a subtle contrasting glow on his body as soft light enveloped his entire being.

" I don't know. How about you tell me? "
Jisung retorted. It was really a shot in the dark, nothing but a mere attempt to push the elder to the very, very edge. Till he was tittering off the cliff, another step forward would lead to him spiralling daydreams.
Did Jisung have anything against the males? He didn't. He found quite a liking to them ever since they arrived, the look in their eyes telling him he was here for the same thing as him.

Something shifted, his eyes a muted grey as a scoff left his lips. The male wanted to comment, utterly mock Jisung on how pitiful of an attempt that was. Unaimed, doubtful. Chan took back his words before they even left his lips, Minho's signature eyebrow raise was more than enough as a signal. Something else was going to happen..and he couldn't wait.

" I see how it is.. "
Chan chuckled to himself, the pad of his thumb tracing Jisung's collarbone while Minho traced the rim of his shot glass, letting ice crash against glass. He sloshed the liquid around, the clinking making Jisung's grip on his skirt become tighter and tighter with each passing minute. His breath got caught in his throat, anticipating, gaping. His fingers reached out to grasp for Chan, to pull him close. Rough before blossoming softness.

Changbin walked over them, Chan with his thumb dangerously near his pillow-like lips. All it would take was a sharp Inahara from Jisung himself, to push his thumb past his plush lips.

" Watch who you're trying to start a fight with, pretty boy. "
Changbin tutted, the smaller wasn't able to conceal how nervous he was, slightly fearing yet bashful.

" I don't remember asking, Changbin. "
The unexpectedness of the timing of his answer , seemed almost piped in, giving away how unprepared he was ultimately, eager for guidance. A single untrained stare for a second too long while they turn their heads around.

" Alright then. "

Leaving him untended to, delirious and despairing. Not even a sweet nickname to numb the prickling pain on his wounded heart. Left alone again. Love, he so desperately craves, but will never get to keep.

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The clear division between the stoners and the unfazed. Grey smoke, honest and exhaustible. Smuggled cigars, between fingers of battered hands.

His willowed self, was he so undeserving of attention. Showing off whatever piece they wanted, look around the room to whoever wanted him. Wanting to be craved, yearn for. batting his eyelashes at whoever spared him a glance for a second too long, to quench his need.

His voice was so rich, velvet, rhythm and beat poetry felt like butter and honey on his tongue. Soft at all the right places, a broken plea as he stared, longingly. Someone in the crowd would let him lose himself for free.

When the flashing lights stopped on him, with a littlle bit of bourbon in him.

" No one's devotion is as sweet as mine " A broken plea, " I wanted your violent love, and you can have me, alright?" he sang, voice sultry and sensual, dripping with honeyed melody.

Bleary stares as they swayed, fingers deft on the keyboards as the music played. Guitarists tapped their feet to the beat, their strings vibrating through their shared haze.

" Till golden ashes turn to dust, I'll love you till the day I die. Give me up for all I'm worth. " He finished, exuding a dark charisma, eyes watery. They were captivated, with rowdy applause and red petals thrown on the stage, red against brown.

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He had a collection of their cigarettes with their numbers on it, forming a pile on the table. " Call me, sweet baby. " They said to him. The crowd who watched him perform. Drawing them in, an innocence so pure it was mean, but he loved it so much. He blew them a kiss, each happy with delusioned fate.

" Looks like you had fun, hm? "
Changbin spoke, a cloth in his hand while wiping the patterned glasses.

Jisung meekly nodded, the suddenness of the male approaching him... was different from what he thought.

A tight fitting black shirt, he's got hooded eyes while Jisung has got eyes as wide as cherry pies. He's holy, he's got everything. His wide palms make their way to Jisung's thin waist, so small, so breakable.

Jisung turned to face the male, back against wood. Black eyes, jazz and attitude. He caught the eyes, the prying eyes of Minho and Chan, awaiting.

Jisung batted his cartoon eyes, thin fingers trailing over his muscles, a classic flirtatious move. With such a cliché yet strangely sweet motion, he added to his own downfall by eliciting a small gasp.

" Y-You're so b-big! "
He exclaimed softly, lips parted, eyes blinking. Changbin's mouth ran dry, disguised as another warm scoff, breath fanning over his neck.

" And you're so small. You're so, so, small."
His voice next to his ear, telling him what he wants to hear.

Jisung had such a tiny body, small everywhere but his mind and heart. Changbin flipped him over with ease, earning a soft yelp from the younger. Changbin was a little purdgier, thick limbs with a defined bone structure while Jisung was thin, with a small frame. His chest was pressed against the scratched wood,smooth finishing with rims of where cups used to rest. Changbin's thicker arms covered the size of Jisung's slender arms, pressing his wide palms onto the back of Jisung's hands, easily securing him in place.

Chan and Minho's eyes followed, trailing from his comely aura, his dainty frame. Jisung was beauteous, pulchritudinous.

Awaiting.

Awaiting.

With his pleasant weight almost fully on his frail frame, he waited for them like a lonesome queen.

" What is the pretty boy doing with our Changbin? "
Minho asked, whispering loud enough to hear, miraculously even though the jazz music was practically blasting through the speakers.

Jisung felt Changbin's grip on his wrists losen, whining at the loss of pressure. With pouty lips and a tipsy mind, " My name is hannie.. Han Jisung... don't just call me a pretty boy.."

He whined, honest as liquor got the best of him. He crossed his legs, perching on the chair.

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It was enticing, how sweet and charming of him. They brought him to a booth, cushioned seats with the view of party-goers getting high. Rolling paper like dice with green weed. Fire on metal, cool as ice as they smoked their heroin. With shaking hands, the group in front of them giggled, unhinged, while snorting their magic powder. The world was theirs while Jisung's world was right beside him.

A caramel colouring as a simple storm brewed, shifting mountains under such strange weather. The glass in Minho's hand, filled almost to the brim with an unhealthy amount of scotch, filled with future sins.

" Drink, Jisungie. "
Minho placed the glass before him, while his stomach stirred from the elder who called his name so surely it felt too right to be true. Nothing was out of place but the hungry gaze they set on him.

The lack of reply made Minho click his tongue in displeasure, while his head dropped him embarrassment, heart drenched in disappointment. It was hard to think when all he could feel was his feet lifting off the ground. Bourbon was so much fun, but no one loved him enough to keep his head up at night.

" How stupid of a fucking whore can you be? " His words as warmth pooled in his stomach, circulating in rounds in his mind. Minho was going insane today. The younger looked up at him, helpless and absolutely pitiful. He loved it. Jisung looked at him like he owned the skies, the sun, the universe, everything..even him. With rosé champagne shade cheeks, Jisung was too far gone to even care.

A single whine, so soft, so faded, so airy.

Stupid

Fucking

Whore 

That was all that he was, wasn't he?

" Ah, Hannie really needs someone to help him with everything, right? "
The certainty in his tone convinced Jisung so much that it didn't even seem like a question. It was merely a fact, an undebatable statement and Jisung didn't dare disobey. The switch between such a wrongful nickname to such a delicate and affectionate name made his mind tip over, static filling his senses.

" He asked you a question, Jisung. "
Tone threatening, unimaginable as Chan snaked his hand onto Jisung's locks. Golden sunshine against the beige of skin. Every part of Jisung itched, burned for Chan to just grab the strands of hair a little bit tighter, till he was forced to look up. Chan saw, he saw how flushed Jisung was. As if pink paint had spilled over the expanse of his canvased pale skin.

" Now answer him. "
Chan commanded, his hand leaving Jisung's fluffed hair with just a merciful pat. It drove Jisung insane, the need to please, even if it meant that he would always be a side piece, something they wanted to use when they wanted to. Anything.. anything, he could give them anything.

The bass of drums perfectly matching his heartbeat, chest rising and falling as a thousand thoughts ran through his havoc of a mind.

" Yes... " too humiliated to continue, he lowered his head bashfully as he only nodded, tides thrashing inside his never-resting brain.

The sound of echoing laughter from those who smoked pot, dousing themselves in cherry flavored wine, mind shining like a diamond. A skin-prickling silence filled the atmosphere radically consuming them, the sound of lips parting, gulps of liquor.

They smelt like old time, they spoke like old money.

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" Hannie wants to act all tough but can't take a few hits of scotch?"
Changbin tutted, disapproval evident.
The stench of scotch, the idea of downing in and not caring what's next. The absolute fascination, the rotten desire to be entirely used, dominated, corrupted.

The cold glass of the cup met his lips as he held the cup in two hands, cool to the touch. Slender fingers glided over his own, before settling down. A tight grip secured on his thin yet small hands, skin against skin. Chan titled the cup, a strong hand at the back of Jisung's head to make sure Jisung couldn't move or back away. His satisfaction was the only thing that mattered. Jisung knew that too, it's a fact.. kiss kiss.

" Pathetic. "
Minho spat , not an ounce of sympathy for the bearable amount of browned liquid that trickled past his cherry red lips. The scotch was the amber that brought resolve to his soul. It burnt like a gin but he likes it. He was drunk on fear and alcohol just the same, addicted to rumour as much as rum. He was already so close to shattering, to breaking into almost unfixable pieces and he loves it.

It was elusive, craving for their fingers on his neck, everywhere. He didn't care. He just wanted to lose himself, every part of him.

Rosy cheeks and throat aflame from the burn. It burns like a gin but he likes it. He was quick to crumble, wasn't he?

Chan's finger dangerously slipped too close to his neck, pale fingers ghosting over the skin as his breath was hot and the air around them was stale, bated breaths.

" Can't drink anymore? "
Minho asked, impudent and sweet as honeysuckle. Yet his voice hinted at such cruelty and vulgar mockery. Through such a hazed mind, he stared at the faint imprint of his lipstick on the glass, hoping that time would be forgiving.

" Not with all of you staring at me.. "
Jisung's voice got softer towards the end, breathing slightly shaky as his heart hammered against his chest. Minho carefully took a step forward, tucking a strand of Jisung's fluffed hair behind his ear.

He stood in front of Jisung, bending down to Jisung's level before an arrogant smirk was displayed on his face. " Hannie just never learns, does he? "

Jisung perked up at his name, eyes becoming more doe-like. He felt as if his skin was filled with ocean salts, dusting his skin as pure anticipation continued to prickle.

" Because.. pretty whores like you never learn.. '' Minho's finger trailed down from his nose to his nape as goosebumps littered across his pale skin. " .. To never pick fights you know you can't win. "

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His clothes were enchanted with French perfume, the smell of fresh flowers. Their cologne heavy on their suits, a hand grabbing both his wrists in a bruising grip. Blood rushed to his ears as the only thing he could hear was the muffled music playing, the slight banter at the corner of the club, ladies with pin curls in their hair as they walked down the stage with their glittery dresses and smoky eyes.

The air outside the club was considerably cold, the music now muted. Jisung's body shivered, trembling under their strangely warm fingertips. The shuffling of shoes on the toasted ground, Chan and Changbin.
His back hit the brick wall, a dull ache throbbed through his entire body and he swore he never felt better. It was so addictive, he almost wanted to beg Minho to hit him right then and there. But he couldn't, he still had some form of self-control left. Or so he thought.

Minho's breath fanned over his lips, liquor mixed with the faint scent of mint. Old fashioned. Their faces were centimeters apart, Minho's hands on both sides of his head, roughed palms against harsh bricks.

He leaned in teasing, the little restraint left his body when he heard the younger whimper. It was soft, meek and vulnerable.

Minho closed the gap