[fallinforgyu]

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hi! i’m bunny, i’m 22 years old, and i use she/they pronouns

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[fallinforgyu]

guys i met ateez last week

[deactivated-blog]

consumed [san x reader]

pairing: vampire ! San x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, angst, vampire au, darkfic

summary: After getting a taste of your blood, San dedicates himself entirely to you — whether you want him to or not.

wc: 5.6k

general warnings: non-con elements, pheromone-induced ‘consent’ but reader resists at first, blood drinking, reader’s blood literally drives San crazy, he is delusional and obsessed and thinks it’s love, abduction, mention of San killing a nameless stranger to feed on

smut warnings: somnophilia, praise kink, body worship, vaginal fingering / sex, creampie, spanking, cum feeding, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting, scratching, petnames for reader (darling, sweet girl, angel, love)

a/n: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! reader is afab & she/her pronouns are used

“You’re not supposed to keep them around this long, San.”

Yunho does not speak the words unkindly, though his disapproval is plain to hear.

“She’s different,” San says quietly, shaking his head. He doesn’t understand why Yunho can’t see that.

They’re standing in the wide, spacious living room of San’s penthouse; decorated in an elegant, bare minimalism that leaves no doubt over the many digits in his bank account’s credit balance. Yunho hangs back by the exit to the foyer, like he already knows he’ll outstay his welcome with this topic of conversation.

San is not looking at him, staring out the floor-length window with his forearm leaned against the glass, tinted with a special filter for his safety during daylight. But the sun has not risen yet, though the city is already bustling with activity in the early morning. From this height, San can barely make out the specks of people on the sidewalks and in their cars; their minute size reflecting their significance.

No one else in this city matters. Only you.

“She’s already growing immune, isn’t she?” Yunho remarks, annoyingly astute.

The corner of San’s lips twitches.

Yunho’s objections are irrelevant, he tells himself, deafening his ears to the truth in that question. He has to, if the alternative is to give you up. He can’t.

Ever since San found you, a chance meeting at a hotel bar, he has been enamoured by you. Your tinkling laugh, the sway of your hips, that wicked glint in your eyes when you realised his interest. You made him work for it, to persuade you up to his room, but not too hard. Just a little game, both of you pretending that you hadn’t decided to fuck yourself senseless on his cock from the moment you laid eyes on him.

Yes, he’d been taken with you from the start — but it wasn’t until the elevator ride up to his hotel room that San realised you were more than just a simple, if particularly delectable, meal.

There San had gotten a proper whiff of you, undiluted by the smells of food and drinks and other patrons.

You’d moaned when he pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, nerves creeping into the edge of your voice. You had also finally realised that San was more than just a simple, if particularly delectable, one-night stand; some primal part of your brain warned you of danger.

It hadn’t mattered at that point. You mumbled something about having left your phone down at the bar, trying to untangle yourself from San’s grip — but all he had to do was grab your waist tighter, yanking you back against his body as he testingly lapped at your jugular. San’s hunger was growing, and you had been powerless against the push of his pheromones dousing your susceptible human brain. From then on, you were a willing banquet for him to feast on.

(Still, San was generous. He still let you fuck yourself senseless on his cock.)

The longer he’d fed on you, the more he was dizzied by your scent; like he was breathing in oxygen for the first time in over six-hundred years. Your voice, sweet in your cries, pleading for him like he was the only lifeline still binding you to this mortal coil. Your taste… San never tasted anyone like you before.

Like you are his lifeline, your blood hot in his gut, saturating his veins with essential nutrition. Liquid sunlight, warming him from the inside. No one else tastes like this. No one else feels like this.

All of his plans were thrown out the window; to wipe the questionable details from your mind and abandon you before morning light. Instead he had taken you with him, given you a home, devoted himself to you with every fibre of his being.

His dedication never wavered, even when you began to resist the haze of his subjugation; when you no longer understood that everything San does, he does out of love for you.

But it’s not your fault — and San is not so fickle as to abandon you now. His loyalty is stronger than your blindness to it.

So how dare Yunho tell him it’s time to let you go?

“For fuck’s sake, at least turn her if you’re so attached to your little toy,” Yunho continues, and San’s face twitches at the blatant disrespect of you. A toy? “It’d be a kindness, and not only to her. Sannie, I’m worried about you.”

“It’s time for you to go home, Yunho. The sun is about to rise,” San says coolly, not even taking his eyes off the city skyline to see his oldest friend off.

Yunho lets out a frustrated sigh, but concedes to San’s stubbornness — for now. “This isn’t the last we’ve spoken of this,” he warns, and with that, Yunho turns away and leaves. He does not take San’s bad mood with him though; he leaves that behind to fester in San’s cold, deficient blood like a rot.

San stands alone in his luxurious penthouse, resisting a sharp urge to put his fist through the filtered glass of his window. He settles for digging his nails into his palms, a low growl escaping past his gritted teeth.

He needs you. Now more than ever.

The thought is all-consuming, hunger blazing through him. But right now, his devotion is tainted by rage, and he cannot risk to have you touched by it. San did that once, mercilessly rough as he took you; not even to feed, just to know you are his. He still has not forgiven himself for it. He never will.

But Yunho’s incessant meddling is not the only thing that has soured San’s mood — and it only makes his need worse.

San knows he has to be mindful of your health, allowing you time to recover between feedings. And so he hunted fresh prey, just a few days ago. It had been a brutish affair, sloppy and violent. San had almost gagged on the young man’s blood, a vile and repugnant liquor compared to yours, and left a scene of savage destruction behind.

(Hongjoong had arranged a clean-up afterwards, for which he’d heatedly told San off. Come to think of it, Hongjoong probably sent Yunho today too. He needs to stop fucking coddling San just because he is a few centuries younger. San could’ve handled it himself.)

Days later, the taste of inferior blood still lingers on San’s tongue, streams through his veins, and his craving for you becomes too powerful to withstand. He yearns for a sustenance and a comfort only you can provide.

No, San cannot go back to an existence without you.

Restlessly he paces across his home, through the spacious living room past the gallery and the master bedroom, all the way to a wide terrace that looks over the bay. Sometimes he takes you there, at night when the stars are bright, but the sun is already out. San ignores the terrace, heading to a relatively modest bedroom tucked into the corner of the penthouse.

A small, delicate silver key hangs on an equally delicate silver chain around his neck, resting on his chest. He takes off the necklace and uses the key to unlock the door to your room.

With his hand resting on the doorknob, San takes a deep, grounding breath. Already he can smell you through the white-painted wood, and just a faint whiff is enough to blunt the edges of his frustrations, while sharpening his hunger.

He opens the door.

Inside, he finds you laying motionless on a large mahogany bed underneath a wide, open skylight. Your nude body is sprawled over the velvet sheets, bathed in the warmth of the morning sun. At peace in your sleep. There is a golden cuff fastened around your ankle, with a long narrow chain to the wall; sometimes your confused mind beckons you to flee, to make some misguided escape attempt, but the chain protects you from making such mistakes.

San closes the door behind him as quietly as he can, careful not to wake you. Reverently, he watches your sleeping form, drinking in the sight of your steady breathing, how your skin glows in the unfiltered sunlight. Light that is deadly to him, but nurturing to you.

His eyes find the three scabbed-over bite marks on your naked body; on your neck, your inner thigh, and your wrist. San is partial to your thigh, mingling the sweet flavours of arousal and blood as he feeds, but every single one of them sings to him right now — angelic temptation.

Still, he resists a moment longer. He likes watching you sleep; the slow rhythm of your chest as you draw breath, your steady heartbeat thumping through peaceful dreams. He hates watching you sleep; to see you in a state of blissful serenity that only the oblivion of unconsciousness brings. He tries to give you that same peace in the waking world, tries so hard, but you struggle against it more and more.

He yearns to touch you, to remind you of true bliss, but even a mere step forward would make him burn in the sun’s light.

Some days he wants to. Wants to burn for you. Perhaps if you saw the true depths of his devotion, you would finally stop forgetting.

“She’s already growing immune, isn’t she?”

Yunho’s words echo through him, mockingly. Now that Yunho is gone, San can begrudgingly admit their truth. Your body is instinctively building a harmful resistance to his pheromones, like a dangerous bacterial strain resisting antibiotics. All San wants to do is cure your hurts, but your own physiology is cruelly sabotaging your happiness.

San’s fingers itch as he gets antsy. He’ll fix it. He’ll fix you. He will find a way.

He flicks a switch on the wall and the solar blinds go down. You stir at the faint whirring noise, whimper instinctively when shade encroaches on your naked body. You do not wake. Not yet.

Soon the room is engulfed in darkness, but San sees you clearly. Still, for your sake he lights a few candles, bathing the room in a different warm glow. Then he slowly shucks his clothes, dark eyes pinned on your slumbering figure.

The mattress dips as San joins you, the sheets still warmed by the sun. It makes San’s skin itch, but all discomfort fades when he turns you onto your side and curls up behind you, finding refuge in your body heat. San groans as you envelop his senses, and he noses at the bite mark on your neck.

You belong to him. It’s time to remind you of that.

Peaceful dreams still have you in their clutches, so you do nothing except sigh softly when San runs his palm over your plush thigh, then hooks your leg over his to open you up for him. A sigh becomes a moan when his fingers part your lower lips; sleep renders you almost as pliant as San’s subjugation does — even if it does not taste as sweet.

By now, San has mapped out your body’s every pleasure-point through his thorough explorations. Knows exactly how to press down against your clit to have your muscles twitching under his insistent touch. He hums in satisfaction at how easily his devoted fingers coax forth the slick between your thighs. It gives him hope.

San’s breath picks up at your heightened arousal, his otherwise useless blood rushing down to his cock. How wonderful would it be, if you are already brought under his spell once you awaken? He groans at the thought, muffling his sounds with an open-mouthed kiss against your neck. You squirm against him; your body is starting to wake, even if your mind is not quite there yet.

He suckles at the precious scab on your neck, canines elongating as he grinds against your backside. His razor-sharp teeth scrape against the scar that he has reopened over and over again — but San hisses, somehow finding the strength to pull back.

He mustn’t feed on you, not yet. Only when you want him to.

Two of his thick fingers have moved down, now buried knuckle-deep into your sopping heat. The faint squelch of it threatens to drive San mad just as much as your scent does, his every sense overwhelmed by the existence of you. He whines, barely able to keep himself from rutting into you when your hips jerk involuntarily against his fingers.

San knows immediately when you wake.

He senses the jolt in your heartbeat, hears the sharp catch of breath, feels how you stiffen in his arms. A muted shock rushes through your body as your mind tries to process what is happening to it.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” San shushes immediately, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. “It’s just me. You’re safe with me.”

But San’s dreams that you would awaken safely under his influence are shattered when you let out a pained whimper. You weakly shake your head, trembling as awareness of your current situation swiftly dawns on you. Feeble hands push at his arms.

“No,” you croak out, voice hoarse from sleep. “Hm, n-no— hmm, hmgh—“

You gasp as San’s fingers return to your clit, rubbing slow circles intended to soothe. “Yes,” he purrs. “Just let it happen, my love.”

He grunts as your nails claw at his wrist, some strength flowing back into your body as your consciousness comes back to you. Your other hand reaches to push at his face — but San’s sharp teeth nip at your fingers in warning when you almost scratch at his eyes, and you flinch away to yank at his hair instead.

Irritation and heartache pang through San’s chest at your incomprehension, and he helplessly listens to your babbled, futile protests. Soon. It will all be better soon.

“Please, stop—”

You break on the word with a wretched sob, a tear escaping your lashes. San’s heart wrenches at the sight. He does not like to see you cry, not when it’s like this. “No no no, darling,” he murmurs gently, the glide of his fingers easy through your sodden folds. “It’s okay, it will be okay… Don’t cry, you feel good — aren’t I making you feel good?”

You merely sob again, twisting against his hold, but San has you pulled too tightly against his chest. He feels your body tense, smells the unwanted pleasure buzzing through your veins. You gnaw at your bottom lip to bite down the moans rising from your lungs, but San will not allow you to fight it. He leans over your shoulders, licking into your mouth until your jaw slackens and your moans spill free. (You dare not bite his tongue. That’s a lesson you did not forget.)

“That’s it, that’s my sweet girl,” San praises. “Let me hear you.”

Your protests have died down to nothing but hitched breaths and hiccups, unable to back away from the inevitable precipice that San pushes you towards. All your instincts contradict one another, wanting to escape, wanting to chase this bright, fiery thread of pleasure until you are unravelled into nothing but pure rapture.

You choke back a throttled cry, grinding back against San’s cock. He whines at the friction, but stays focused on you; you come first. You always do. It won’t be much longer now.

He can tell by the way your thighs tremble, how your legs try to lock around his fingers. Your scent is overwhelming now; dizzying San’s mind with no thoughts of anything but to shatter your existence into bite-sized pieces. Still you try to resist, but San overwhelms you in turn, mouthing at your neck and working your puffy clit. The pitch of your moans rise, chest heaving with shuddering gasps, until you seize up with a strangled sob. Fresh slick gushes onto his fingers and San does not stop, thrusting three glistening fingers inside you to fuck you through your unwilling release.

“Please, please stop,” you sob, mewling with every aftershock that jolts through you. You beg him endlessly, convulsing in his arms — but then your scent changes, and the nature of your pleas shifts into something else entirely. “S-Sannie… please…”

The fear and nausea in your scent make way for your natural sweetness, embracing San in warm welcome as you finally call his name. He whimpers in relief.

You’re here. You’ve come back to him.

“What is it, darling?” he hums, nosing at your cheek. “Tell me, what do you need?”

“San, please, n-need…” You grasp at his wrist again, keeping him firmly in place as you falter for words. Your brain is in a haze. What do you need? Why can’t you think? One moment, everything was all wrong, panic searing through your aching nerves, and now… now…

San.

You need San.

You turn your head to look at him with tearful eyes, and smile dazedly at the fondness in his gaze, filled with heated affection. The flickering candles cast a halo of light around his face, shadows dancing over his high cheekbones and chiselled jaw.

“You… Need you closer,” you whine, aching as he smiles at you with crinkled eyes and a faint dimple. “Inside, p-please, want you inside me, San…”

The desperate yet demure request pleases him, a low noise of approval rumbling in his chest. He presses a tender kiss on your cheek, then takes out his fingers and pulls away from you.

You let out a pained moan at San’s sudden absence; to be without him hurts, the mere thought bringing about an excruciating burn inside your head. There is a strange pressure inside your skull, like a deeply buried thought tries to claw to the surface. But the pain is replaced by equal heights of bliss when San gathers you into his arms again, wrapping around you like a protective blanket.

He only moved to sit up against the headboard, now guiding you into his lap. You come willingly, eagerly, sighing in relief as his hands run over your feverish skin.

“There you go, my angel,” San rasps, restlessly grabbing at your waist to rock you into his hard cock. “So sweet, so good to me. Come, take what you want. I’m all yours, love.”

You whine at his offer and San’s lips spread into a slow, satisfied smile at your neediness. This is how it is supposed to be.

His eyes are drawn downward to your hands, and he grunts as you stroke him slowly, as though testing the warmth and thickness of him in your palm. Already he is leaking from the tip, a primal frenzy nudging at the back of his skull. Hunger.

Thankfully, you don’t make him wait long before you lift your hips and finally sink down on him. San throws back his head with a low growl, the pulsing wet heat of your cunt threatening to tear his self-control to shreds. His fangs have protracted fully, itching to seek out your veins.

Not yet, he reminds himself again, straining against his own impatience. First he needs to watch as you ride him; to see you use him for your own pleasure. To know his all-encompassing desire for you is returned in kind.

You provide him exactly what he craves.

Within mere moments, the candle-lit room is filled with your unabashed whines and the lewd slap of skin-on-skin as you bury San’s thick cock in your tight heat over and over again. Your pace is frantic, shameless in your desperation as you cling onto San’s wide shoulders, your nails close to drawing blood. The irony of that is not lost on him.

San’s head has fallen back, his jaw slack as he draws heavy breaths, utterly entranced by your depravity.

He lovingly admires the glow of sweat on your skin, beads trickling down the valley of your breasts that bounce with every snap of your hips. San is of half a mind to add a fourth bite to his collection on your body, draining you right over your heart. He licks his lips, groaning tightly when you grab his hand and move it from your hip to your backside.

San gives it an appreciative squeeze, but you shake your head and whine loudly.

Ah… message received.

You don’t flinch when San’s lips spread into a wide grin, his fangs on full display. He loves you for that.

He also loves the way your entire body jolts when his palm sharply lands on your ass. Your rhythm falters when he strikes again, your arms trembling as you struggle to remain upright.

“Want more, my love?” San croons, and draws his tongue across his deadly canines. A hot wire thrums through him when you mewl in confirmation, though he can tell you are getting tired. Stamina is not your greatest strength, not with your necessary confinement — but you always give him everything, wearing yourself out on his thick cock until your muscles give in.

Every smack of San’s hand against your rear is received with your loud keening, eyes squeezing shut. Tears streak down your cheeks, and San’s cock twitches inside your throbbing cunt. The shimmering wetness on your skin is a thing of beauty to him now; so overwhelmed by pleasure that your body seeks release anywhere, even in your tears.

San bucks up at the same time that his hand connects with your ass again, and you wail at the impact, crumpling against his chest. Weakly you cling onto his shoulders, moaning pitifully when San continues to roll his hips.

“Good, feels so good… Sannie…” you babble against his collarbone, the words tripping over your clumsy tongue. “Want… want…”

Your tongue darts out against his neck and without further warning, your teeth sink into his skin.

San grunts in surprise at the sudden sting, but then he chuckles breathlessly at your precious attempt to bite him. Your canines are uselessly blunt compared to his, only capable of breaking skin with the greatest effort — and you are already far too fucked out for that.

“Oh darling,” he coos, tipping up your chin. “Is that what you want? Then show me, my love.”

You snivel adorably, tilting your head to offer up the mark on your neck to San’s hungry mouth. Your quiet submission sears through his body, down to his crotch and his stomach, and San presses his nose against the old bite, breathing in deeply.

You whimper as he drags the flat of his tongue over the half-healed scab. Just a faint scrape of his teeth first, not enough to break skin, only to revel in the anticipation. Your heartbeat quickens, blood pulsing under his lips. San can wait no longer.

His eyes roll back with an animalistic snarl as he descends, fangs piercing through flesh with ease. He growls at the first pull of blood, metallic sweetness coating his lips and tongue as your essence floods his senses.

“Yes, yes— Ah, ah, ahhh…” You arch your back into him, slowly rolling your hips in time with San’s noisy, messy slurps. Your fingers tangle into his hair, holding him in place as he drinks deep.

Euphoria.

Pure euphoria.

Drowning in you, in the sublime intoxication. San can barely feel his body anymore, only distantly aware of you rutting tiredly into him, of how he humps upward with increasing force as he loses himself in your taste.

He does hear your cries of delirious ecstasy, right by his ear when his hand slides between your bodies to find your clit on pure instinct. With his cock and fangs buried inside you, you reach your zenith with violent force, convulsing underneath his blood-stained mouth.

San grabs tighter onto you as you writhe, forcing you to stay in place as he drinks unrelentingly. He groans at how you clench around his cock, hips stuttering when he finds release — but even that is drowned out by the frenzy of his feed, mindlessly fucking his seed deeper into your cunt while he sucks at your wound, trying not to spill any of your precious liquor.

Slowly your whines die down and you start to go limp in San’s arms, just as he grows lethargic in the aftermath of his indulgence, his hunger finally sated.

You let out a weak moan when his fangs retract with a wet sound, and for a moment San thinks you passed out; but your eyes flutter open when he pulls out and manoeuvres you onto your back. A weak rivulet of blood drips down your shoulder, but you smile up at him with glassy eyes. He must look monstrous, redness smeared across his lips and chin, but there is nothing but want in your gaze, and San thinks that perhaps his hunger is not completely sated after all.

“Did so well, my love,” he murmurs, running his fingers up your inner thigh to catch the trickle of cum leaking out. “Always taking such good care of me.”

He offers up his glistening fingers to you, and you accept with no hesitation. Tiredly, your tongue swirls around the sticky digits, taking all that San feeds you. It only seems fair to him; exchanging one bodily essence for another. He cannot give you his blood, cannot risk accidentally turning you, but at least he can give you this.

Soon his fingers are sucked clean, but you whine as San pulls his hand back, your mouth chasing after him. “N-no, San…” Your eyes glitter with unspoken pleas, and a fond pride swells inside him at your insatiable urges.

“My sweet girl needs more, does she?” San asks, bearing down on you with a pleased smile. He drapes himself over you, humming in approval when your legs reflexively part to make room for him.

You giggle when his nose brushes against yours, his sweaty hair tickling at your face. “San, you’re a mess,” you tease, running your thumb across his lips. It comes back red.

San just moans in contentment, pressing a bloodied kiss against your cheek as he slowly grinds against your cunt. Your giggles quickly turn to gasps, wiggling underneath his persistent hips. His cock is so sensitive the friction almost hurts, but it’s all worth it when you grab onto his shoulders to pull him into a kiss, heedless of his tainted lips.

Your tongue slides against his, and San laughs into your mouth when your nose scrunches up in discontent at the strong taste of blood. As insatiable as you may be, only one of you is a true vampire. Instead San kisses a trail across your jaw, down your neck. He laps at the dried blood, the wound already closed, then suckles at the surrounding skin once you are clean. His hands wander over your body, relishing your heightened responses to his touch as he slowly works you up again.

You sigh at the soft squeeze of your breasts, back arching when his thumbs play across your nipples. San luxuriates in the curves of your body, sliding down to envelop a hardened nipple in the wet heat of his mouth. He takes his time, clever but unhurried fingers teasing deftly between your thighs.

Breathy moans echo through the quiet bedroom, languid pleasure gradually shifting to something more urgent. You start grasping at his shoulders, tell him to fill you up already, and San has never been one to deny you.

He hisses as he gives his cock a few more strokes, but ignores all sensitivity to please you, to plunge his thick length back inside your sopping cunt, drenched with seed and arousal. San bottoms out in one smooth thrust, knocking the air out of your lungs. You gasp for breath as he starts a steady rhythm, careful to find the exact angle he knows will have you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

The lethargy of his feed forces San to take it slow, settling for deep, intense thrusts to have your toes curl into the sheets. He cages you between his elbows, pressing shallow kisses on your lips; but the taste of blood has faded enough that you can happily accept his mouth, tongues gliding against each other in a sloppy tangle.

You moan as San’s pace picks up, wrapping your legs around his waist. The cuff on your ankle presses against his lower back, and a tinge of bittersweetness invades San’s palate at the reminder that it’s is not always like this. But he shakes it off, choosing to stay submerged in pure sweetness for now. Enjoy the moment. Enjoy you.

The slow roll of his hips turns to powerful thrusts as his sluggishness fades, his strength now boosted by the fresh, invigorating effect of your blood. Soon the bed is rattling at the onslaught of his force — he is fucking bruises into your hips, he is sure of it, but still you beg for more, for him. He gives it all.

“So good, fucking me so well,” you keen, and San glows at your praise, spurring him on harder.

He does not slow down when you seize up around him; fucking you through your orgasm, through your body’s attempts to clamp down on him. He hisses at the tightness of your cunt but does not stop, does not relent until you’re sobbing underneath him, your hands clutching at his sweat-slicked back. His muscles ripple with every merciless thrust, low grunts escaping him as his own release draws near, but San pushes through with gritted teeth, fixated on the unrestrained pleasure that contorts your face.

Sweat drips from his hair onto your cheeks, your body jostled helplessly by the rough snap of his hips. Your voice fails you, moans catching soundlessly in your throat as you tense around his cock again. San reaches down a hand to find your swollen clit, groans when it barely takes a touch for you to release a choked up cry — and this time San can’t fight the way you clench around him. He buries his face in your shoulder as he whines, filling you up just as you’d begged him to. He grabs onto your hips to hold your squirming body still as he bucks into you a few more times, his cum leaking past his cock and mingling with your juices, smeared across your thighs and his pelvis.

With a final whine, San pulls out and collapses by your side, his legs tangled with yours.

He recovers slowly, gasping for breath, and his heart clenches when you curl up into him, wiggling yourself between his arms for his embrace.

San is not sure how long you lay there like that, with him gently patting your hair, your quiet breaths falling on his chest. Your heartbeat steadies slowly, and it pains San when he decides it is time to pull away.

As he predicted, you babble tired protests at once, weakly clutching at his arm as you beg him not to go. He allows himself a contented smile, but shakes his head at your pleas.

“You need to eat,” he points out, though he can’t resist showering you with kisses. He smothers you in affection until you’re breathless and whining — which is one way to silence your protests, he supposes — but San cannot be so selfish to stay and do it all over again. He needs to take care of you. “I’ll be right back with some breakfast, alright? You need to regain your strength,” he soothes. “After, we can take a bath together, how does that sound?”

San’s tender kisses have put a dopey smile on your face, and you nod sluggishly at his proposal. “That sounds perfect,” you admit. “Just… come back soon, okay?”

“I will,” he promises, raising your hand to his lips to press a last kiss on the scab on your wrist.

San puts on a comfortable robe that he keeps in your room for just this sort of occasion, then exits, locking the door behind him out of habit. He tries not to rush himself, but still he can’t help but hurry his steps as he picks up an already prepared breakfast from the kitchen. He does not want to return to find you have abandoned him again already.

An uneasy sense of foreboding fills him as he returns to your room. The waft of sex and blood still hangs heavily in the corridor, masking your scent as he unlocks the door again in frustrated impatience. San swallows thickly, praying his bad feeling is just that; a feeling.

But the door swings open, and San knows at once. He does not even need to smell you; your freshly tear-stained, puffy cheeks already tell him that it is too late, your heartbeat spiking harshly at his return. Your arms tremble as you inch back on the bed, subtly as though you do not want to anger him, but still putting as much distance between you and San as possible.

It takes everything for San not to recoil from your sudden rejection of his gift. His fingers clench around the breakfast tray, grief burning behind his eyes. He swears, it did not used to wear off this fast.

“She’s already growing immune, isn’t she?”

Shut the fuck up, Yunho.

San shakes his head, collecting himself. It’s no matter. He sets the tray down on a side-table, and gently approaches your shaking form on the bed. He will drag you back to him again, as many times as he has to.

[fallinforgyu]

ateez reaction to riling them up in public? like maybe with other ppl around n you tryna feel em up under the table or sumn or like, in a movie theater, that sort of thing...

anon i will kiss u on the forehead... bless u

hongjoong doesn't like pda. he wants to keep intimate moments intimate and would give you NO reaction if you tried to feel him up in public. he might even shoot you a look or directly tell you to stop. you'd think he's mad at you until the moment the door closes behind him and you're alone. "What exactly were you trying to do?" he'd ask, walking closer and closing in on you, "Start something you couldn't finish?" And then, just to remind you who's in charge, he'd tie you up. You're excited just to feel his hands on you, but don't get your hopes up - you're not gonna get to cum for at LEAST an hour. "How does it feel to be teased? It's not fun, huh baby?"

seonghwa... i actually think he would really love this. first of all i think he might be a bit of an exhibitionist so if you feel him up in front of one of the other members that's a HUGE plus. idk idk i have this very clear image in my head of seonghwa making eye contact with and smirking at the members while he's getting his neck kissed idk idk... anyway. as an aries mars this man probably LOVES quickies, so feeling him up in public would almost always lead to you bent over a sink in some sleazy public restroom, his hands all over you and his lips against your ear, saying shit like "This is what you wanted, hm? Pretty little slut." God and then he LOVES putting your panties back on and making you go about the rest of your day with his cum dripping out of you.

yunho plays along with it. the second he feels your hand brushing against his thigh at the movie theater, he leans over and presses his lips directly to your ear. "What are you doing, pretty girl?" He'd smirk, knowing damn well what you're doing. Well, two can play at that game. he'd put his arm around you, starting by stroking your hair and ear, then brushing the back of his fingertips down your neck. once you're nice and covered in chills, he'd gently grope the side of your breast, smirking and kissing the side of your head when you squirm. by the end of the movie, you're so worked up that you forgot the whole thing was your idea. but don't worry, yunho's gonna remind you of that every few minutes when he's overstimulating you at home later. "Come on, sweetie. You can cum one more time for me, can't you? You were so needy for me earlier."

i'm picturing a very specific scenario with yeosang. walk with me. you're at the mall with him and when you walk past a lingerie store, you think it's the perfect opportunity to tease him. you ask him to go to the store with you and he nods, trying to act as chill as possible about it. that is until you're holding up pretty sets against your body, asking yeosang if he thinks they'd look good on you. he'd be pretty quiet but he'd give you his honest opinion, blushing through the whole ordeal. your mall trip ends shortly after that because yeosang is suddenly in a huge rush to get home, begging you "Please put that red one on for me" as soon as you're home. have i mentioned i think yeosang loves lingerie? bc i do. "Drove me crazy to think about you wearing all of those pretty things for me," he'd breathe, biting your neck, "Just so I can make a mess of you in them."

god there's something so romantic about san. i really think teasing touches and stolen kisses are just things that come with loving him. even if you're just at a cafe having coffee and chatting, your fingertips brushing up and down his arm while you talk to him just feels so comfortable and right. he's the type to pull you into an empty alley and press you to the wall and kiss you with everything he has in his body just because he felt like it. i'm telling yall... post date sex with san goes CRAZY because you will have spent the entire date subconsciously working each other up. "You know just how i like it, baby. You know just how to make me feel good," he'd groan through slow, passionate strokes and deep kissing </3

mingi's first reaction is to get giggly. i think his body is so sensitive and he's a little bit ticklish, so feeling your hands on particularly sensitive parts of his body might make him a little squirmy. but just be patient, be gentle and keep going because in a few minutes he'll mellow out and really allow himself to feel your touches. his eyelids might get a little heavy, his eyes might glaze over a bit but he's in heaven allowing himself to be loved on. "Doing okay, handsome?" you'd ask and he'd snap out of it a bit. "That feels nice." he'd nod, a dopey smile on his face. ask him if he wants more and he'll be home and underneath you in a matter of minutes - a moaning, panting mess who loves nothing more than being the center of your attention.

we're kidding ourselves if we say that wooyoung is anything other than the one who would be teasing you. this man is THE teaser. was quite literally born to tease. he'd constantly be coming up with excuses to try to rile you up - sucking ice cream off your fingers after it dripped down the cone and onto your hand, running his hand up your thigh while you're trying to watch tv, slapping your ass when he walks past you, the list goes on. he wants to see just how far he can push you before you break. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? You gonna punish me? Or are you gonna admit to yourself that you liked it, hm?" yeah that's wooyoung.

jongho just wants to make sure your needs are taken care of </3 as soon as you start trying to feel him up it's "Hm? What's gotten into you, baby? Do you need me?" and best believe he will prioritize your needs over ANY function he's at. the minute you nod your head or give him that desperate look, he has you in the passenger seat of his car with his hand on your thigh. "I'm gonna turn you into a brat if I keep giving you whatever you want whenever you want it," he'd smirk, kissing you and sliding his hands up your skirt, "But how am I supposed to say no to you when you're this damn cute all the time?"

[fallinforgyu]

please… send ateez reaction requests… please…

[honeyhotteoks]

his sweet girl (p.sh)

summary: you and park seonghwa have an arranged relationship. he doms, you sub, and he pays for your taxi home. it's always the same until the night you both plan to indulge in each other's more intense fantasies.

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this fic is much more intense than my other work. please mind the tags here. seonghwa isn't mean / harming the reader, but we are dealing with more intense bdsm topics and touches of consensual non-consent, so review the tags before proceeding.

warnings: hard dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, fem!reader, role play, use of sir, impact play, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m receiving), rough oral, slapping, spitting, mocking/teasing, use of good girl/sweet girl, reader is called pet once but it isn't pet play, color system + safe words, some praise, some degradation, restraints, blindfolds, edging, light somnophilia/wake up sex, subtle breeding kink, v sweet aftercare. please let me know if i missed any.

pairings: seonghwa x reader

genre: non idol seonghwa, aged up, dom!hwa + sub!reader, smut

word count: 7.9K

my masterlist || read it on AO3

              On some level, you know tonight is about letting go, about relinquishing control and trusting him, but you can’t really imagine what it will be like. It’s about trust, trusting the other person to stay within your preset boundaries and take what they want while satisfying you as well. The knowledge that the scene is set, the guardrails are in place, and both parties know when to say stop. This is what leaves you trembling on Seonghwa’s doorstep afraid to ring the bell. Discussing everything in detail is one thing, but doing it is another. He made you feel safe, always, as a friend and as a sometimes-casual lover, but opening yourselves up further was new.

              You smooth your hands down the front of your skirt, shifting in your unfamiliar high heels and gripping the leather strap of your bag firmly. He had asked you to look a particular way, and of course you obliged. This is the easy part of the evening, something that still feels within your control and like the play acting you had done with him before. Taking a deep breath, you steady your nerves and ring the doorbell.

              It takes a moment, and you bounce a little in your heels anxiously, before you see his shadow in the frosted glass of the window. He swings open the door and gives you a warm smile, “Hello, love,”

              Your body melts, anxiety easing away instantly once you’re actually in front of him. “Hey,” you reply.

              His eyes flick over you, taking in your attire, “You look perfect,”

              “It’s what you wanted?” You ask, smoothing back your hair a bit where it rests in a high sleek ponytail.

              He waves you in over the threshold and reaches to take your coat and bag, ready to hang them up on their designated hook by the door, “Exactly what I pictured.”

              His low pleased voice sends a chill across your spine. He closes the door behind you, and you take a moment to relax into his space, tidy and organized as always, a pleasant smell of fresh laundry and lavender. When you turn to look at him again you take in his attire, he’s wearing a crisp black suit, perfectly tailored to his long lean lines. A black tie is expertly tied, secured with a silver tie pin to his clean white shirt. His hair, dark black and pushed back lets you really see his face today and admire his slightly sun kissed tan.

              He gives you a warm, close-lipped smile and cocks his head to the side, “You seem a bit nervous today,” he observes.

              “A little,” you confess, always keeping things honest with him, especially before a scene.

              He reaches a handout to you, “Let’s relax for a while, then. Maybe some wine?”

              You take his hand and let him lead you into the large, sleek kitchen at the far side of the house. “How has your week been?” he asks, pulling a bottle of red wine off the rack that hangs suspended under the cabinets.

              “Busy,” you sigh, leaning against the granite countertop of the island and watching him as he moves through the kitchen to secure some glasses.

              “Ah,” he nods, “so a stressful week?”

              You nod, his eyes flicking up to see your response while he pours the first glass of wine, turning the bottle with a smooth motion of his wrist to stop the pour at just the right moment.

              He sets two evenly poured glasses on the counter and slides one a little closer to you. “Let it breathe a moment,” he notes and then continues, “well, hopefully this weekend will help relieve some of your tension.”

              You smile, a little blush heating your cheeks, “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

              “Have you?” He’s pleased, leaning against the counter with his hip, his eyes studying you.

              “I always enjoy seeing you,”

              “Mm,” he nods.

              “How about you, how was your week?” You shift the conversation away from the innuendo.

              “Productive,” he says, “but I’ve been looking forward to this too.”

              He takes his wine glass up off the counter and nods towards yours, indicating that you can drink should you want to. You lift the glass eagerly, taking a long sip and letting the sharp warm flavor of the cabernet wash through you. Seonghwa takes the smallest sip, preferring to keep a clear head for any of your interactions, but keeping you comfortable and pretending to drink with you.

              “Are there any alterations to what we discussed?” He asks, “Anything you want to take back off the table?”

              You shake your head immediately, “No,” your mind flicks back to your week long text message exchange discussing the logistics of this weekend. Which of his fantasies you were going to newly engage with, which of yours. A detailed discussion of positions, props, and a confirmation of your safe words and the rules.

              “Good,” he smiles, “that’s good,”

              You take another sip of wine, “Seonghwa,”

              “Yes?”

              “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying the night?” It’s something you had never done before. Typically, the evenings would end, he would spend at least an hour making sure you were comfortable and decompressed from the scene, and then he would clean you up and put you in a paid for taxi. This would be the first time you’re staying.

              “It’s fairly essential to our plans for tomorrow,” he laughs.

              “I know,” you brush his comment off, “but I know you value your space. I just wanted to ask you before we started if you’re sure about it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”

              He moves to your side, taking your free hand in his and giving you a little squeeze, “I appreciate that, love, but I’m not uncomfortable. I’m going to enjoy having you here all night,”

              “Oh,” you can’t help the blush that creeps up again, the effect this man has on you with just a sharp look of his eyes or the touch of his skin.

              “It’s better to keep things contained to the scene,” he says, and his voice shifts a little lower into a familiar tone, “but tomorrow is part of that, and I think after months of you being a such a good girl for me, I’d be more than pleased to give you what you want too.”

              You swallow tightly, crossing your legs in the seat which does not go unnoticed by him, “Thank you,”

              He nods, slow, reaching forward and brushing his delicate fingers along the side of your jaw, your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across the plush skin of your closed lips. You sigh, pleasantly and he leans over you to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

              When he pulls back and gives you a few feet of space, you reach for your wine again and watch as he politely takes another minute sip of his.

              “When you’re ready,” he lets you know, “we’ll start with something familiar.”

              His words from a moment ago have you tense, ready to see where the night goes. Your brain involuntarily flicks through the catalogue of things you’ve agreed on for the weekend and you swallow tightly before nodding, “I am,”

              He gives you a final smile, reaching for your now empty wine glass. He pours his out before rinsing out both glasses and leaving them to the side. You know he’ll come down later and scrub them clean, but for now he seems anxious to get started and to not ruin the cuffs of his suit.

              “Darling,” he says, his voice dropped into the register he favors for his harder scenes. He dries off his hands on a hand towel and turns fully towards you, “have you broken any rules this week?”

              Your stomach drops, an immediate hot flush running through you. You know exactly where he plans to start things now, and you’re suddenly vibrating with anticipation. He makes it easy to lose yourself in these scenarios, and you move out of your chair to stand at the island across from him and meet his eyes, “I have, sir.”

              The corner of his lip quirks into a small smile. He sets the hand towel aside neatly and rounds the island, stepping close into your space so that your back is pressed against the lip of the counter. “How many rules?”

              “Just one, sir.” It was the important one though, and you know when he hears which one you’ll be in for it.

              He reaches out a hand, pressing flush against your lower stomach and pressing down, “Which rule?”

              “Self-pleasure, sir.” His hand against the fabric of your tight skirt has you hot already, the feeling possessive, claiming.

              He shakes his head, disappointed, “How many times?”

              “Just once,”

              “What day?” He questions.

              “Thursday,”

              He clicks his tongue, irritated, “You couldn’t make it one more day? Were you that desperate?”

              You nod, your hands gripping the countertop behind you.

              “Tell me what you’ve earned, love.” He shifts his hand to cup your hip.

              “Ten, sir.” You respond instantly, this dance a familiar one.

              “Fifteen,” he shakes his head and when he sees your eyes widen, he smiles, “I’m in a giving mood.”

              “Yes, sir.”

              He steps away from you, taking you by the wrist and heading towards the stairs. You trail behind him, and he never once looks back to you, simply holds you tight and expecting you to keep pace with him. When you cross the threshold of his familiar bedroom, you blanch. He had prepared.

              The bed, which is normally made up and fresh, looking like a hotel, is stripped bare, only the fitted sheet remaining. The rest of the blankets and bedding are folded neatly and stacked in a chair to the side, so you know he intends to make the bed before the night is over. Laid across his side are his plans for the evening, neatly presented and ready for you. Your eyes run across each of them and your body tenses at the unexpected.

              Seonghwa doesn’t pause though, he simply takes his seat at the tufted bench at the foot of the bed and looks up at you. He opens his legs wider and taps his knee. This is a favorite of both of yours, something you know well, and you step forwards with every intention of dropping yourself over his knee.

              “Wait,” he stops you suddenly and you freeze. He glances over you and reaches out, sliding his fingers under the hem of your skirt and dragging your tight powder blue pencil skirt up and over your hips. It rests up and over them like a cumbersome belt, but it leaves you exposed to him in just the way he likes. He taps his knee again, and you move over him.

              You position yourself with your lower stomach and hips across his thigh, resting your chest on the plush mattress facing the head of the bed.

              His hand drops, resting warmly on the smooth skin of your ass, palming you firmly and watching your skin redden under his touch. “Count,” he says simply, and before you can manage to say anything, his hand lifts and descends, delivering a harsh slap to your backside.

              You jolt, the first hit always a surprise and you stutter out, “One,”

              His fingers massage your skin again before he cracks his palm against you again.

              “Two,”

              By the fifth spank you can feel yourself growing slick and needy. He rests his other hand on the small of your back, stroking you softly, before delivering another blow.

              “Six!” The sting rings through your tender skin, goosebumps erupting across you and you’re sure that both of your ass cheeks are red and starting to look a little swollen.

              “That’s a good girl,” he hums, “always so attentive.”

              Another sharp spank, “Seven,” and another, “eight, eight!”

              His hand coasts down the backs of your thighs, squeezing you here too and feeling the way you jerk under his ministrations. After two more you’re panting, used to this being your stopping point, or at least a pause.

              “Can you take a little more for me?” He murmurs low.

              “Yes, sir,” you answer immediately, coming up on your forearms and bracing yourself.

              “So eager,” he hums, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He hooks a finger under the back of your thong and pulls it up, maneuvering the fabric to the side of your wet slit, but he doesn’t touch you yet.

              You bite back a plea for him to touch you, knowing it would only make him tease you longer. You dip your head down into the mattress and wait, trembling. He delivers a harsh slap, but instead of massaging the area of his hit, he sinks a finger deep into your wet heat.

              You choke out a moan into the bedding, your fingers tightening, finding nothing to really grip onto. He pumps his finger, “Did you forget your words?”

              “Eleven!” you cry, straining your hips back to meet the thrusts of his finger even though you know you shouldn’t.

              He locks an arm down across your lower back to steady you, removing his finger and delivering two harsh, punishing spanks that elicit a startled yelp, “Settle down,” he directs.

              “I’m sorry, sir,” you manage, “twelve, thirteen.”

              He gently squeezes you, a little praise in this moment of tenderness before he dips two fingers inside you. Holding you locked against his knee he works his fingers inside you, pressing against the front wall of your channel and fractionally picking up the pace. You groan into the mattress and your fingers flex tighter, but you don’t dare move your hips.

              “Two more,” he soothes you, “you can take two more.”

              His fingers slide out, his hand comes down, harder than before and springing tears to your eyes.

              “Four-fourteen,” you pant.

              “And this?” He strikes you again and you shake against him.

              “Fifteen, sir,”

              “Very good,” his voice softens, and his hand massages your backside gently, sweeping his hand over your reddened skin softly and soothingly. “Come here,” he hooks his hands under you and starts to help you stand up off his knee.

              Standing again, your legs tremble, your footing unsure, and he keeps a hand locked on your bare hip. Cool air crosses over your raw skin and you let out a shaky breath.

              “You did very well,” he murmurs, reaching around you to locate the zipper of your skirt and open it up fully so he can shift the skirt down and off you now. When the rough fabric passes over your sensitive skin you let out a soft whimper, and he pauses, looking up to your eyes. He reaches up and cups your face softly, silently checking in, and you give him a small nod that he can continue, you’re just fine.

              He’s a little more careful removing your skirt, but he finishes sliding it over your legs and helps you step out of it with a hand securing your forearm as he maneuvers you. He draws your hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder, pressing your hand a little so you respond to grip him more firmly to steady yourself. His fingers hook under the edges of your underwear, and he drags them down, lifting the fabric cleanly away from the raw skin of your backside to not irritate you again.

              “Now,” he says, “be a good pet and get on your knees.”

              You kneel immediately, using your hand on his shoulder to stay steady, but once on your knees with your feet neatly tucked under you, you move your hands to your lap and wait for his instructions. He looks you over for a moment before he repositions himself, sitting now to face you directly and planting a foot on either side of you. You know better than to assume what he wants, so you wait.

              Seonghwa reaches out and touches the looped tie at the front of your sheer white blouse, he runs the fabric through his fingers and gives you a soft smile, “Should I unwrap my present?”

              Your muscles clench around nothing at his words, “Please,”

              “Please what?” his hand stills.

              “Please, sir,” you correct yourself.

              He tugs downwards and the tie comes free under his hands, parting to reveal the smooth skin of your throat and collarbones. He sighs, nodding to himself. “Hands, please,” he asks and you raise both to him. With nimble fingers he quickly unbuttons the three covered buttons on each wrist and lifts the shirt over your head carefully to toss it aside by your skirt. You’re left in nothing but a powder blue bra, intentionally selected to match the skirt and he hums pleasantly, “Pretty baby,”

              You shiver at his words, staring up at him expectantly.

              He reaches back and grabs something from the bed before turning to you. In his hands he holds a black blindfold. It looks more like a sleep mask, made to intentionally cover your eyes and obscure your vision from top to bottom to periphery. “Alright,” he says, “put your hands away.”

              You tuck your hands under your thighs and sit back down, in this position your fingers are sandwiched between your calves and your thighs, intentionally keeping them unavailable and secured. Seonghwa reaches around you, threading your ponytail through the blindfold before settling it over you, leaving it for now on your forehead so he can continue looking into your eyes. “Tell me your colors, darling. Red,” he prompts you.

              “Stop,” you reply.

              “Yellow?”

              “Slow down.”

              “Green?”

              “Go, everything’s good,” you nod.

              “And if you need me to stop immediately?” He cups your jaw.

              “Treasure,” you reply with your agreed upon but never used safe word.

              “And if your mouth is full?”

              A shiver runs over you, “Tap your thigh,”

              “Very good,” he nods, “Are you ready?”

              “Yes, sir.”

              It’s all he needs, and the last thing you see is his sharp sparkling eyes, and a smile on his lips, before your world goes completely dark. It’s jarring, being positioned like this and unable to move or anticipate his next steps, but when you hear his belt unhooking, you’re ready.

              He shifts forwards, his trousers open now and his cock standing stiff and aching. He places a hand on your face and guides you downwards, prompting you when to open your mouth. His warm soft length slides over your bottom lip, and you eagerly catch it with your tongue to slide him as far back in your mouth as you can. This position on your knees was how you had throat trained, learning to take him inch by inch and suppress your gag reflex, and now he bumps the back of your throat with ease.

              With a soft tug against your ponytail, he tells you silently to begin. With slow and deliberate motion, you drag your head back and forth to take him in your mouth. Your tongue is pressed along the bottom of his shaft as you do, applying pressure where you know he wants it and hollowing out your cheeks, sucking him softly. At his first soft groan, you drop your head down and accept him fully, your nose pressed against his pubic bone.

              Breathing like this is difficult, and you have to keep yourself even and regulated through your nose. His cock twitches in your mouth and you sputter, moaning softly against him.

              He’s not the largest partner you’ve ever had, but he’s certainly the best lover you’ve had and the only one you’ve been able to pace yourself with and take from tip to hilt inside your mouth. You pull up and back again, sinking him in deep and when you go to move again, his hand finds the back of your head and holds you there.

              You make a soft noise of surprise around him, and he holds you tighter. Instinct tells your body to push away, pull your hands free and get loose, but you center yourself calmly and breathe slowly through your nose again.

              He strokes your hair then, thrusting up into your mouth just a little and you cough slightly, spluttering and struggling with the way he keeps hitting the soft spongy back of your throat and brushing against your epiglottis. He strokes the length of your ponytail, and then wraps your long hair around his fist, tugging you firmly to test the grip on your scalp. You moan around him, pressing your eyes shut despite the blindfold, your body starting to tremble.

              “You can do better than this,” he says, his tone dismissive. A challenge.

              With practiced motion, you take him, letting his hand in your hair guide your speed but not the intensity of your ministrations. You roll your tongue over him, tease the tip of him, use your lips to apply pressure, suck on him greedily. You speed up, ignoring the way you choke around him, ignoring the sloppy wanton sounds and focus solely on what he wants.

              A tight yank on your hair pulls you up and off his cock and you gasp in a deep gulp of air. He slaps you across the cheek and shakes you by the hair, “Not good enough,” he says, his tone sounding firm and final, and he delivers another slap to your cheek.

              You’re almost ashamed at the sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and the way your body is shaking with need, and he knows every button of yours to push to make it more intense. “Open,” he commands and you open your mouth wide, your held tilted up for him.

              It’s quick, he spits directly into your mouth and delivers another slap to your cheek before maneuvering your head downwards. A desperate whine leaves you, and the mixture of Seonghwa’s spit and your own drips out of your mouth and onto his waiting cock before you can recover. He moves to fuck your throat with abandon now, shifting to stand and pressing you tightly against him, ignoring the soft sounds of you sputtering and choking against him.

              You center yourself again, easing your throat open and relaxed, widening your jaw, your nails softly dig into the backs of your thighs, and with one hand in your hair and the other along the side of your face, he loses himself. He’s panting above you, and you know immediately that he’s close. With your eyes tightly locked shut, you focus on the pin pricks of pain where your nails dig in and the throbbing of your desperate clit. He comes suddenly, hot and salty down the back of your throat and he clutches you close to him, your jaw straining painfully and your nose pressed tightly against him.

              With a sigh he pulls you free, immediately dropping the grip he had in your hair and letting you settle. You’re gasping, a little cough in your throat, but you relax and let him continue.

              You come back to sensation when his fingers gently tip your head upwards, and a cool glass touches your bottom lip. “Here we are,” he murmurs softly, “drink this.”

              Cool water washes down your throat, and you take several deep sips before he brings the cup away and says, “That’s my very good girl,”

              In a less intense scene you might have responded, you might have begged for him to touch you, or hold you, or fuck you into the floor, but today you know you can’t. You hold your tongue, and you wait. You hear the sound of a zipper again, and belt, and realize he must be redressed now and ready to focus on you.

              “Alright,” his voice is now soft closer to your ear, “let’s get you up, hmm?”

              His hands slip under you and he lifts you with ease, moving around the edge of the bed to settle you directly in the center. He’s careful with you here, soft and easy, fingertips brushing along your jaw where he slapped you and massaging your scalp where he pulled your hair. He reaches under you to unclasp your bra and draw it down over your arms, casting it aside, and leaving you finally fully bare for him.

              “Color?” He says softly, his hand stroking across your stomach.

              “Green,” You assure him.

              His hand shifts lower, and he cups your cunt in his palm, one finger dipping between your folds and teasing your entrance. “Oh, you are ready for me,” he chuckles and you shudder, willing your body not to jerk and respond too strongly to his ministrations.

              He removes his hand, and you feel his weight shift off the bed before he says, “Stay still for me.”

              He takes one wrist and extends your arm up, and secures something around you it. You hear him move around the bed and you slowly roll your wrist to test the feeing of it out. It’s more comfortable than you thought it would be, not the stiff leather style cuffs you’ve seen in pornography or the silky fabric you see in softer core, aesthetic scenes. It feels more like layers of thick athletic fabric and you’re grateful it doesn’t pull or pinch at your skin.

              He secures the other wrist, leaving your arms up above your head and spread wide. You don’t exactly expect him to secure your legs in the way that he does. You expect a similar loop of fabric around each ankle, but instead he secures you by each thigh just above the knee, a larger and thicker loop of restraint here, holding you fully open and exposed. Nerves bubble up inside you as he checks each of the restraints again and slips a finger gently under the edge of each to ensure they aren’t too tight.

              Then things go quiet. You expect him to tease you, to be verbal like he normally is or to shift more dominant and even degrade you, but instead you’re met with quiet. It stretches on and you can’t help but turn your head to the left and right, straining to see if you can hear anything at all.

              It’s taking too long, minutes pass, and you’re not even confident at this point that he’s even still in the room with you. You don’t want to break the scene, but you’re nervous now. The absolute lack of visibility and your tight restrained position has you so vulnerable you can barely breathe. “Seonghwa?” You know you shouldn’t address him by name, but the nerves get the better of you.

              He doesn’t respond, but suddenly you feel a brush along your inner thigh and you jerk, startled at the sensation of what feels like a fine brush coasting gently up your skin. His voice murmurs, honeyed and soft, “Shh, shh, you’re safe.”

              The brush runs up each thigh, across your pubic bone, over your stomach, and repeats. The sensation has you straining, your hips making subtle jerks instinctively, aching to be touched more now that you know he hasn’t left you.

              He repeats his pattern again and again, until he shifts, the brush ever so slightly running over your exposed clit. You whine, rolling your head back and gripping the straps of your wrist restraints. He teases you like this for what feels like forever, but he eventually lifts the brush away. “You’re so wet,” he hums pleasantly, “is this all for me?”

              You swallow, your throat dry, “Yes, sir.”

              “Very good.”

              You swallow tightly again but choke out a gasp at the next touch against your inner thighs has you shaking. It takes you a few moments to work it out, with the way that he’s teasing, but you realize quickly he’s traded the brush for a feather and the new sensations have you trembling again.

              You want his hands on you, his fingers, his mouth, but you know that once you start begging he’ll make this longer and harder for you. He’s already come, and he’ll stay perfectly in control for as long as he wants to. He takes his time again with the feather, passing it over every inch of your body, focusing special attention to your pebbled nipples and trembling core.

              You know he’s done playing when he moves the feather away and you feel his weight descend on the bed between your wrenched open legs. You know he’s going to touch you, but how you can’t predict. Something firm lands directly on your clit and you arch back instinctively, but he keeps in pressed down. You rock your hips slightly, testing the feeling, but he clicks his tongue in disapproval and you stop immediately. At the sudden wave of vibration from the object pressed against you, you can’t help but cry out and jerk up against your restraints.

              Seonghwa pushes the vibrator more tightly against your clit and lays a firm hand on one of your open thighs. “Don’t you dare come.”

              The sound that leaves you is broken, keening, and you try to back your hips up and away from the vibrator, but he holds you steady and presses it more firmly against your swollen nub. “Please, please,” you manage, panting.

              “You’ll come when I tell you and not a second before.” His voice is stern, curt, and runs a shock of pleasure up your spine.

              You focus hard, gritting your teeth and laying your head back against the mattress. Your nails dig into your palms, your body trembles, and you do your best to keep things at bay. He circles the vibrator hard against you and you moan out, a breathy wet sob of desperation.

              He brings you up, placing you high on the pedestal of your orgasm, and works you there until he’s sure you can’t take another single second. With a pleased tone he commands you, “Come.”

              Your body tightens, and you let the feeling crash over you, crying out when you feel two of his fingers push up deep inside you to help push you over the edge. No doubt your words are incoherent, your body shaking uncontrollably.

              The vibrator lifts as you start to come down, but his fingers pick up speed. “Again,” he says.

              You shake your head, desperate and confused, the heady feeling of your orgasm holding you still, but he’s relentless the way he pushes inside you. His hand stays locked tight to you, sharp thrusts cresting you upwards again, “There we go,” he says as you cry, “again, again.”

              You’ve never felt anything like this, a sharp snap inside you that leaves you writhing, your wrists tugging at your restraints and your thighs attempting to snap closed but completely unable. He has you open and ready, and he has no intention of stopping. He’s talking to you, but you can’t hear him through the haze, his fingers slow, and when he’s sure you’ve come twice he slides them out and brushes his hands along your thighs soft and slow.

              When you hear the sound of his belt again and the rustle of fabric, your body locks up. You’re still shaking from his hour of slow burn pleasure, and you can barely breathe, nerves igniting at what is coming next.

              “Color?” Seonghwa confirms, one hand coming back to rest on your thigh.

              You want to keep up, you want to give him exactly what he wants, but the breath is tight in your chest, “Yellow,”

              “Alright,” he murmurs, his hands leaving you and you sigh, focused instead of recovering your breath slowly and breathing through the sudden wave of nerves.

              He settles down next to you, stretched long by your side, and rests his hand warmly on your stomach, “Deep breaths,” he murmurs.

              You follow his lead and as he softly strokes you with his thumb and gives you the time, you start to settle back into yourself. You want so badly to see him, loving the way he takes his time with you and the way he looks at you and your body, but he wanted you like this so badly that you just hope you’re giving him what he needs.

              “Color?” he checks again.

              “Green,” you nod, “I’m okay,”

              He shifts away immediately, settling back between your open legs. “Are you?” He asks again, but his voice has taken back on a hardened edge.

              “Yes, sir,”

              “Then I have more work to do,” he says, and his hand connects with your clit, rubbing quick circles into your oversensitive nub.

              Tears spring to your eyes instantly, and your muscles clench around nothing, your hips rocking up and against his hand, body panting and desperate in an instant. Heat rushes over you and you spasm, pulling again against the taut restraints. As you come up again, he pulls back suddenly and you whine, craning your head up even though you know you won’t be able to see him. His body descends over you, and you feel now that he’s naked and hard against you. His stiff cock connects with your clit and he rolls his hips over you to drag it back and forth, your body shuddering in response.

              “Oh God,” you shake your head, “Please, please,”

              His hand connects with your jaw, holding you firmly, “Please, who?”

              “Sir!” You recover yourself, “Please sir, please I can’t,”

              “You can’t?” He mocks, dropping his hips lower.

              You’re torn in two, desperate for him inside you and overstimulated enough that you can barely think of him touching you again. His breath fans across your cheek, his teeth nip at your ear and when his voice comes low and harsh, “Is my sweet girl too tired?”

              The sound that leaves you is nothing but a stuttering mess and your hips jerk up desperately, pressing the head of his cock against your fluttering hole. He makes a pleased sound in your ear and sinks home, locking your hips tight together and groaning against you now that he’s finally inside you. Your legs try to force themselves shut again, but it does nothing and he responds with a pointed and firm thrust.

              “What a mess,” he says, thrusting into you faster, “all laid out for me like this.”

              You can’t form thoughts, nothing coherent anyways, the sensation of him dragging perfectly inside you and his pubic bone connecting with your clit on every downwards strike making you arch against him. You’re nothing but a moaning mess, holding onto the wrist restraints in your hands for dear life, and letting him take his fill.

              “Did I fuck you dumb, sweet girl?” His hand sinks into your hair and he pulls down again, baring your throat and twisting your position tighter.

              Tense sore pleasure knots inside you, tears hot in your eyes, and nothing in the world has ever felt quite like this. His pace above you starts to quicken and you know he can’t be far, but you haven’t found the words to answer him.

              He catches one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, just hard enough to shock your brain and have you twisting away from him despite the weight of his body over yours. “I asked you a question,” he growls in your ear, his thrusts turning more forceful.

              There’s no chance you’ll be able to answer, and you shake your head, “I can’t,”

              He doesn’t respond, just grips your hair and your side tightly in his hands and fucks you faster, his shaky soft groans telling you he’s close. “Where do you want it?” He asks suddenly, his hand against your face again.

              “Wh-what?” He’s never asked you before, only told you.

              “Where should I come? Tell me,”

              You clench around him, the knot tightening and blood rushing to your head, the only thing that connects in your brain is this final need, “Inside, inside, please, please,”

              “You didn’t say sir,” He says, firm, and you tumble into another orgasm, the strike of pleasure catching you by surprise. He pulls out of you suddenly and you’re spasming around nothing, and you cry at the sudden change of sensation. “Fuck,” he pants above you and he grips your thigh tightly in his hand before releasing hot across your belly.

              In the aftershocks, you’re shaking more than you ever have before, your fingertips slightly numb from their raised position and your legs surely unusable. He’s quiet, and you’re not sure if it’s really over until you feel the damp warm towel against your skin as he cleans you up.

              He releases the tie on one of your thighs, then the other, and your legs fall slack against the bed, a deep ache in your hips as you let them straighten out. He releases one wrist, then the other, and your hands drop down above your head. Softly, he slips the blindfold off and comes to sit by your side, his thumbs wiping away the stray tears. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and cups your cheek. When your eyes finally flutter open he smiles, “There you are, darling.”

              “Hi,” you manage, weakly.

              “You did so beautifully,” he caresses your cheek.

              “It was,” you shift your arms and wince, the pins and needles springing up them instantly at the slight shift. His eyes flick upwards to assess and he deftly takes one arm in his hands, massaging soft circles into your flesh to wake it back up and give you some sensation. As he takes the other arm you finish your thought, “was it what you wanted?”

              He nods, “it was better than I could have ever imagined,”

              His warm words fill you with comfort and you stretch your tired limbs, shifting slightly to rest one hand on his bare thigh and look up at him, “Yeah?”

              “You’re perfect,” he leans over you, pressing a warm kiss against your lips, “I wish you could have seen yourself, you looked…”

              You blush and he brushes his hands across you, warmly up your back, massaging your thighs, planting kisses along your skin as he does. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

              In truth, you’re sore, stiff, and exhausted, but you also feel boneless, sated, and perfectly dazed. “Good,” you settle on.

              He smiles again, “Stay here for a minute, I’ll be right back.”

              You nod, and watch him go. He pulls a pair of boxers on disappears into the bathroom. You hear the sound of the bathtub filling, and the sound of the shower, and you rest in the center of the bed while he’s gone. You close your eyes, content to rest and stay exactly as you are, but he returns.

              When he does, he eases you up into his arms and you open your eyes. He’s freshly showered, his hair wet and pushed back, and he smells clean, his skin soft against yours. He carries you cradled against his chest into the large bathroom and eases you down into the warm water of the tub.

              You hiss at the contact of the water against your backside, still sore from earlier, the heat from the water only making it sting, but you know once you’re submerged it will fade. He settles you against one side of the large tub and comes to rest behind you, outside the water, but with his arms looping around you and holding you beneath the warmth.

              “Feel better?” He murmurs against your hair.

              “Perfect,” you reply, letting your eyes slip closed.

              He kisses your temple and rests here with you for a few moments before slowly unwinding his arms, “Take your time, and when you’re ready we’ll get you to bed.”

              He’s perfect like this, you think. Kind and gentle, attuned to your needs like the best of lovers should be. He leaves you to your space, knowing that you need time to come out of the headspace of the scene and back to yourself. Easing yourself back, you take stock of how your body feels and slowly wash up. You ease yourself out of the bath once you’re ready, wrapping a fluffy white towel around yourself. You need to take it slow, you realize immediately, your hips are sore and your legs are still a bit shaky, but you can manage.

              When you cross the threshold of the bedroom out of the master bathroom suite, Seonghwa jumps up from his position reclining on the now made bed. “You should have called me,” he crosses the room for you.

              “I’m okay,” you squeeze his hand, “I promise, just a little tired.”

              He still doesn’t listen, and moves with you to your side of the bed, pulling back the covers and then tucking you in once you’re laying down. “There’s water here,” he hands you a glass, “are you hungry at all?”

              You shake your head, “No, I’m okay,” You take a deep gulp of water and sigh, sleep pulling at you already.

              “Alright,” he seems anxious all of a sudden, fussy, and he clicks the lights off except for the opposite bed side table before slipping into bed beside you.

              “You’re staying here?” The words leave you before you can stop yourself, surprised. Despite how often you’ve slept together, you’ve never actually spent the night together.

              “Would you be comfortable with that?” He asks.

              “Of course,” you roll towards him, “you just caught me off guard, but I’d love it if you’d stay.”

              He visibly relaxes, sinking back into the pillows and resting a hand on yours, “If you’re here, I’d like to keep you close.”       

              After the intensity of the night, his words fill you with warmth and you shift closer, “Then come here,” you tug on his arm slightly.

              He slides over, wrapping around you, cupping you agains this chest. He runs his fingers through your damp hair and down your back, a repeated comforting pattern, “Can I get you anything else?”

              You shake your head against him, “Just hold me awhile,”

              “I’m not going anywhere,” his voice, low and soft eases you.

              It doesn’t take long for your body to melt into the covers, feeling more spent than you’ve ever felt before, Seonghwa’s steady arms around you and solid heartbeat against your cheek.

              When you wake it happens slowly, and it takes you a while for your mind to catch up and understand the sensations you’re feeling. When your brain does connect, it’s to the realization that Seonghwa’s fingers are inside you, pumping slowly and massaging your clit softly to spark your wet arousal.

              Pleasure ripples up your spine and you softly moan, stretching your hips down slightly and curling into the pillow under your cheek. You don’t open your eyes quite yet, intoxicated by the sensation of him touching you.

              His fingers slide out, and he softly raises one of your legs, opening you up and gently letting you stretch onto your back. His hands drift across your skin gently, running slowly from your breasts down your stomach, across your thighs and dipping back to slowly tease you, ease you open and pliant with practiced circles with the pads of his fingers against your nub.

              You keep your eyes closed despite the soft pants that leave you, the needy shifts of your hips. You wanted him to take you like this, you always had.

              You feel as he descends over you, gently opening your legs wider, lifting one of your legs up to your side to fold you into a press position. His cock sinks into you smoothly, your body slick and ready for him, but the sudden sensation of being filled has you moaning in earnest, and your eyes snap open. “Hwa,” you groan, but he claps a hand over your mouth and holds your face to the pillow below you.

              You let out a startled squeak, but he keeps his hand locked in place over your mouth as he starts to thrust into you. He shushes you, “Go back to sleep baby,”

              Pleasure knots deep in your belly at his words, but you play along, shaking your head against his palm and blinking up at him.

              “Sleep,” he directs softly again, his voice almost a whisper in the dark room, “I just need you for a minute,”

              Your eyes flutter shut and you let out a muffled moan against his palm. He keeps up his pace, and you feel your body clenching around him already. When you groan, your eyes flying open again, he presses his hand harder against your lips.

              “Shh,” he hushes you, “just rest and let me fill you up, sweet girl.”

              Your hands fist themselves in the sheets below you and you moan again. He drops down a little lower, pressing kisses to your temple as he fucks you, and he keeps murmuring against your skin, “I’ll give you what you need,”

              The feeling of him is warm and hard, rhythmically stroking you in the perfect spot at a deliciously slow and steady pace. He whispers more, promises in the hollow of your ear, but you crash over the edge into your orgasm when he says, “I’ll fill you up every night sweet girl, every night until it sticks.”

              You grip onto him suddenly, holding him tight to you as your body spasms and jerks against him, pleasure washing over you and sending sparks of heat down your limbs. He follows you quickly, thrusting into your fluttering muscles and spilling himself deep inside you, locking your hips together when he starts to come and just rocking his hips tightly against yours.

              “That’s a good girl,” his hand slips away from your mouth, and he peppers kisses across your face.

              You feel utterly boneless and pliant, and you groan when he pulls out of you and shifts to spoon you again, holding your slick body against his. He dips his fingers between your legs though, and presses inside you with two fingers, kissing your shoulder. With his opposite hand he wraps around you starts to gently massage your clit again, heat spreading fast across you.

              “There we go,” he nuzzles you softly, “we’ll keep this right where it belongs,”

              Your head drops back against him, and you let him work you quickly up over into another soft and shuddering orgasm, your body weightless now against him. He keeps his fingers inside you for just a few moments longer, and then slips out of you, kissing your shoulder repeatedly and stroking you gently. He murmurs soft to you, “How’s my girl?”

              “So good,” you sigh, cuddling back against him.

              “Is that what you wanted, love?” He asks, massaging your hip gently.

              You nod, sated and ready again for more sleep.

              “Good,” he holds you close, “I don’t know about you, but I think we could try that again.”

              “Mm,” you nod and sigh, “anytime.”

              He chuckles, “And last night?”

              “Definitely,” you assure him, squeezing one of his forearms that wraps around you, “I think I liked it,”

              “Did you?” He pulls the covers up over you higher.

              “A lot,” you admit, and he all but purrs in satisfaction behind you. “Did you like this?”

              “Very much,” he sweeps a hand low over your belly and spreads his fingers wide to cup you gently, “possibly too much.”

              Seonghwa sighs behind you, and you can feel him relaxing against your back, spent from the evening before and this early morning, and you softly hiss the available patch of skin on the arm wrapped around your shoulders, “Let’s sleep then,”

              “Mm,” he agrees, then says, “can I wake you up again?”

              “Anytime,” you smile, “you can have me anytime.”

              “Then sleep,” his deep warm voice murmurs, “you’ll need your rest for next time.”

[dr-solomon]

txt's reaction to you crying during sex;

[lil warning: i just wrote it for soobin, and then I wanted to turn it into a reaction with all the members, so soobin's part contains daddykink! And u know my first language is not english, very sorry if i have mistakes! Here we go~]

SOOBIN

"Hey..." Soobin pushed your knees into your chest, leaned over you after hitting your sweet spot hard again. Even though you can see the blur around you because of your tears, you noticed his arrogant smile. "How beautiful my baby cries..." he combed your hair back, watched the tears running down to your temples as if fascinated. "My pretty baby." He gently stroked your chin with his thumb. "You okay?" You nodded quickly, of course he knew you were crying with pleasure. And that means he could turned into the bastard he just was from before.

"You feeling so pathetic?" He stroked your cheek, you were numb with pleasure. "Is daddy's fat dick ruining you, babygirl?" He could never take his eyes off your crying face as he half smiled. "Look at that..." he gently stroked your tear-soaked cheek with his fingers as he keep going to fuck you. "Don't be so pretty, I'm going crazy..." His smile slowly faded. You wrapped your arms around his neck and excitedly placed a few kisses on his chin. "Oh my God," He put his hand on the back of your head and gave your lips a long and loud kiss. "You love Daddy so much?" He stroked your hair that on your neck and you mumbled out of breath. "So much." He rubbed his nose against yours. "My beautiful baby." He whispered as you sighed against each other's lips. "You're the best."

YEONJUN

"Angel?" Yeonjun looked at the tears with worried eyes. "We can rest if you like? You know." he stopped moving when the fact that he kept sliding slowly inside made you sigh quite audibly and shed more warm tears. "N-No Yeonjun, please don't stop."

He frowned, "What?" smiled half-mouthed. "Is my baby crying because I made her feel so good?" your eyes turned when you started to feel his slow movements again. "How kind..." he chuckled, the way he was watching your face, turned your cheeks red. And when you put your hands to your face, he gently grasped your wrists. "Shh, princess, don't." spoke with a laugh, and you wanted to laugh too, but your tears did not stop. "I want to watch." you nodded and let him hold your hands. "Look at my girl..." you felt his dick twitch, your crying added to the pleasure he was getting. He whispered in a fascinated way with a groan. "You make me fall in love with you more and more every day."

BEOMGYU

"Huh? Cry?" Beomgyu's eyes grew wide with surprise, he nervously squeezed your thigh, not knowing what to do first. "Oh, darling..." he thought he had hurt you, but he was sure you would tell him in such a case. "Are you okay?" muttered quietly, kept watching your face, you could feel him slowing down more and more.

But that didn't take long, because your boyfriend knew you. "Wait." your eyes turned with pleasure when he stepped back and hit your sweet spot. As soon as he realized that you were crying from pleasure, his body trembled with excitement. "I knew it..." smiled, the fact that you kept squeezing his dick made him moan sweetly. He leaned over you and gently stroked your cheek. "Are you okay, right?" nevertheless, the fact that he checked how it was, made you smile through your tears. You nodded and then heard the sigh of relief he took.

When he got up from you, his smile came back, he kept watch your cry with his mouth open. "You're crying, huh?" he just gave your cunt a little slap because he was really worried. You trembled, he kept laughing while fucking you. "You can take my hand." you held his hands the moment he said that. "Ow, little baby..." you were too sweet for him, Beomgyu put kisses on your hands and leaned over you again. "Oh my God, do you make an effort to cry so beautifully?" he was watching you without blinking, and the fact that you couldn't answer because of his hard movements made him smile again. "You moan like a very bad girl, but now you cry like an innocent baby?" he giggled. "That's exactly my girl."

TAEHYUN

Taehyun stopped grasping your hips tightly, gently stroked your legs and leaned over you with a frown. He watched the tears on your cheeks. "Shh." and grasped your cheeks. "Look at me." you put your hands on his hands and looked at him. "Am I hurting you?" he asked, his eyes were all over your face.

"No." you talked, he stopped fucking you, but he didn't take his eyes off you, even if the fact that you kept squeezing his cock showed why you were crying. "Are you crying because you're having a good time?" he asked to check, you nodded quickly and looked at him wistfully for him to keep going. Taehyun combed your scattered hair back and gave your forehead a little kiss. "So cute." whispered quietly and started rolling his hips towards you again. "Then let me make you cry some more." and it was at this point that he began to watch the tears with fascination. His hand went to your clitoris and quickly stroking it began to make you cry more and more. "Good girl." when his hand caressed your lips gently, you opened your mouth and accepted his fingers. He whispered as he bent down to give you a new kiss on the forehead. "This is the only place you can cry."

HUENINGKAI

"Huh?" Kai suddenly slowed down and leaned over you with big eyes, pulled your hands out of your face, holding them by the wrists. "Baby? What's wrong?" he spoke anxiously. "Am I too fast?" he suddenly stopped moving. "All right, we can rest." he gave soft kisses to your breasts. "Or can I be slow?" he kissed you on the chin and kept watching you with anxious eyes. "Baby, come on, talk to me, did I hurt you?"

"No, no." you stroked his hair, you could see how relieved he was that you were talking. "You're very good, that's all..."

His lips parted slowly, you felt his dick twitching between your walls. "O-Okay." he gently wiped away the tears and kissed your cheek. He walked away from you a little with a stunned expression. "Well, I'd be lying if I said right now that it doesn't turn me on too badly." he's starting to move inside you again. "But please don't cry, darling, okay?" Kai let you hold his hand tightly and bit his lower lip. And he added, watching your face thirstily. "Woah... I want you to walk tomorrow baby, please don't cry."

thanks for ur eyes bebe, hope u like it!<3

[teasteeper-deactivated20240815]

no one but you (l.yy)

masterlist | part 2

pairing: loser!yangyang, bf!kun x gf!reader

genre: angst, smut 18+ minors dni

warnings: pinv, rough sex, car sex, oral (m receiving), "daddy"

words: 1k

Yangyang’s eyes stay squeezed shut, desperately trying to imagine a scene far from his current reality. After all of Dejun's nagging at him to ‘just get laid’, he really started to believe that getting his dick wet was all he needed to get over you. But the girl under him didn’t look like you, hence him refusing to open his eyes, and her piercing, screeching mewls were nothing like your broken, breathy whimpers.

As he fucked her into his mattress he tried to recall the countless nights he spent laying there fisting his own cock, straining his ears to hear your pretty moans from the bedroom next door, to hear you get fucked by someone else. Your boyfriend. Kun.

The thin walls and their bedrooms being side by side was a blessing and a curse. It drove Yangyang insane, most nights soundtracked by the sound of you and Kun fucking like bunnies. Forced to bite into his bottom lip so hard he would draw blood to hold back his moans. Forced to cum into his own hand while Kun was surely emptying himself into your tight cunt. Forced to walk into the kitchen the next morning to the sight of you in nothing but one of Kun’s shirts and a pair of tiny sleep shorts, all glowy skin and sleepy smile and raspy voice all thanks to someone who wasn’t him.

“Babe? What’s wrong? Everything okay?”

Yangyang had half a brain to try and hide the grimace her voice threatened to put on his face. He reluctantly pulled back to look at her, to at least pretend like he was there. She wasn’t pretty because she wasn’t you, he thought as his droopy eyes inspected her. She wasn’t you, but there was something pretty in her messy, fucked out demeanor. His eyes trailed over the mascara smudged around her eyes, her flushed cheeks and hair splayed over his pillow. He pistoned his hips forward, watching as her brows furrowed and jaw dropped in a high pitched mewl.

It only made him think of your soft moans and Kun’s words, ‘There she is, my good girl’, ‘Where does it all go, hm? How does that little pussy take it all?’, ‘So pretty for daddy. Daddy’s girl’.

And your muffled responses had Yangyang off his face every time, imagining it was him your eyes were staring up at as you offered shaky responses.

He looked into the girl's eyes trying to imagine the teary gaze on you. A pained moan left his parted lips at the thought of how good you'd be, so pretty and malleable under him, taking everything he gave you. He knew you could take it rough, kept awake by the dull rhythm of Kun's bed frame against the wall separating their rooms. Yangyang honestly didn't know if you were home, but if you were you'd most likely be in Kun's room, just next door. He picked up his pace, groaning out as his own bed began to thump against the wall.

The girl under him squeezed around his cock in response to the force, and Yangyang's hesitation started to melt. If you could hear him right now he wanted it to sound like he was enjoying himself. Payback for every night you spent without a single thought of him. His jaw went slack, plump lips parting as his moans rang out. His thrusts were sloppy and hard, unleashing months' worth of frustration and hurt.

"Babe-"

"D-Daddy. Call me daddy."

He was shameless, utterly projecting his fantasies of you onto this girl. She didn't have your voice, but her whiny, feminine voice calling him daddy would suffice. His length throbbed inside her, "Louder. Yeah, fuck-"

His dark brows furrowed, grimacing as he pulled his length from her cunt and fisted his cock until he was cumming, warm cum making a mess on her torso. If it was you he wouldn't pull out. He'd give you everything, anything to make you his. This girl wasn't right, she was all wrong, and he firmly believed anyone who wasn't you would be wrong. There was no one but you.

So he gave up fucking random girls, Dejun's advice be damned.

Unbeknownst to Yangyang you hadn't been home to listen in on his performance. Kun had taken you on a sweet date, first to a nice dinner and then a drive to your favourite lookout spot over the city. He coaxed you to the backseat to straddle his lap, pushing your silky skirt up your thighs. His big hands bounced you on his cock as he trailed messy kisses up your neck, nipping scarlet bruises onto your skin.

He held your shaking frame to his chest as you came, combing his fingers through your hair with your face buried in his neck. When you came down he ushered you to lay on your back, your head in his lap as he smiled lazily down at you, ghosting his fingertips over your warm cheeks.

You lazed in the backseat talking about nothing, nuzzling your face into his thigh. Somehow the conversation led to the members, Yangyang included. Kun let out a soft laugh, his hand cupping your cheek as you placed kisses to his thigh. “He likes you, you know.”

Your brows furrowed, continuing your soft kisses, “Huh? Really?”

“The poor kid’s in love.”

You continued, unfazed, reaching your hand up to palm Kun’s cock and pulling a soft hum from his chest. “That’s too bad,” you smiled up at him, your eyes trained on his as you pressed your lips to the head of his cock, “I’m in love with you.”

Kun sighed dreamily, tugging your bottom lip down with his thumb and watching your mouth drop open, working your tongue over his slit. “Tell me about it, baby.”

You giggled around his length, pulling off with a pop to look up at him, starry eyes blown wide and lips wet and puffy, “No one but you.”

[hazyhae]

indica dreams | ldh

plug!hyuck x fem!reader ft. bestie jeno and cousin johnny

summary: when you finally decide to do something about your sleeping problem, your best friend suggests weed as a solution. he introduces you to donghyuck — a plug who makes it his personal mission to teach you everything there is to know about it. 

wc: 11.7k 18+ mdni

cw: fluff, mild angst, smut, weed/marijuana use in multiple forms, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it up!), creampie, oral (receiving), flirty down bad soft dom!hyuck who's highkey a simp, dirty talk + voice/praise kink, reader has sleep problems and is a chronic overthinker, reader has a bad trip on weed, tender loving and reassurance, baby/sunshine/my girl as petnames

you turn over in your bed for what feels like the hundredth time, eyes shut tight as you groan in frustration. you open your eyes and feel around for your phone, blinding yourself once the screen faces you. 4:23 a.m. great.

when your alarm set for work blares just a few hours later, you feel as though you shut your eyes for only a few minutes, reluctantly getting up to start your day.

this has been happening for a while now — maybe 1 or 2 months? you’re not sure when exactly it started, but you know the stress from work has been affecting your sleep schedule terribly.

you’ve tried melatonin — huge headache the morning after. other methods you tried led to something similar or didn’t work at all, and it frustrates you to no end. after another day of fighting to stay awake at work passes by painfully slow, you sit on your bed brainstorming with your best friend over the phone.

“i think we’ve gotta do something about the stress, then maybe the sleep will come with it?” jeno’s voice rings through the speaker. you can tell he’s just waking up, evident in his low voice and delayed responses.

“like what? quit my job?” you ask sarcastically. “you know i can’t do that.”

“i know, not that.” you can almost hear him shrug. jeno never has any problems sleeping, being able to sleep through the night and even take a nap or two throughout the day with his work from home job.

a lightbulb seems to flash in his head as he lets out a small gasp. “wait,” his voice sounds closer to the phone speaker, and a few seconds later, your phone buzzes with a new message.

6:06pm jenjen: dongfuck 010-xxxx-xxxx

“dongfuck?? who the hell is that?” you ask, confused and almost slightly irritated.

“oh shit, i forgot it sends the contact name and everything,” jeno laughs. “anyways, i think the answer to your problems is some good old weed.”

you pause. it’s not as if that never crossed your mind, in fact it has even before your sleep problem came about.

you never entertained the interest as no one in your friend circle knew enough about weed for you to feel comfortable trying it for the first time and you haven’t had the energy to go out as much, giving you no chance to meet someone who does.

“i could be down? but what do you know about weed, lee jeno?” you ask your friend suspiciously.

“no, not me,” you hear him tap on the phone for emphasis. “that’s where my buddy dongfuck comes in.”

you don’t know why, but your gut feeling tells you that you might be in for more than just a good night’s sleep.

lee donghyuck

the new contact in your phone apparently belonged to the resident stoner of his friend group who hustles as a local plug, and while jeno had his thoughts about the guy, quoting pain in the ass and corny flirt, he couldn’t deny that he knows more about weed than anyone he’s ever met. and as much as jeno talks shit, you know how he’d be if he actually hated the guy.

you had texted the new number nervously, asking if he could give you the basics on getting high, and he had responded with “it’s too much to text” and an address. jeno trusted the guy, so you did your best to brush aside your nerves.

it’s your saturday off when you arrive at the address he sent, triple checking that you are at the right place. your gps leads you to a building that looks like a 2-story house. it’s so lowkey that you probably would have walked right past it if you weren’t looking for it, but upon closer inspection it has a very minimal but aesthetic exterior, with vines running alongside the house’s entrance.

“NCTeaHouse” a sign reads right above the door, and you peek inside the small window in the door to see the interior. your mouth forms an o as you realize the house is in fact a store.

the front door opens suddenly, almost hitting you in the face as you step back in surprise. a dark haired man with rounded glasses peeks his head out from behind the door.

“oops, my bad. __ right?” he asks, a little unsure.

“yeah, and you’re donghyuck?” you ask, taking in the man who looks to be around the same age as you.

“just hyuck is okay, come on in!” he says cheerfully, opening the door fully. “i was wondering when you were gonna come in, saw you wandering around the entrance for a good 5 minutes,” he chuckles.

your face gets hot at the knowledge that he saw you like that. “i was making sure it was the right place, okay?”

he hums and leads you in, and you take in the view of the shop around you. it’s tiny, but warmly decorated, browns and earth tones dominating the space with boxes lined along the shelves and few displays in the middle of the shop. he goes behind the front counter, bent down as he rummages through a box.

you take a look at products at the register, finding that they are different tea bags. glancing back at the displays, you recognize the other boxes to also be different tea brands, and some other products you don’t recognize.

“is this where you sell?” you ask, seeing that he’s still looking for something.

“oh no, not here, this is my side job. we sell tea, coffee, and some other stuff.” he gets up with a smaller box in hand, leaving the register as he beckons you to a back room. “but it’s my cousin’s shop, i just help here when i can.”

the back room is also warmly decorated, simple with 2 couch chairs, a table with a coffee maker, and a tiny fridge with a small burner on top.

“you can sit in one of those chairs, do you want some tea?” he asks. you decline politely and sit as he places a kettle on the small burner, turning it on before sitting on the other chair.

“aren’t you working right now? i don’t want to take up too much of your time,” you ask worriedly, not expecting the address he sent to be his workplace. he shakes his head.

“nah, trust me, we barely get any customers, and if they do they’ll ring the bell out front,” he says, waving his hand. “anyways, jen told me you wanted to learn about weed? what do you want to know?”

you feel your face get hot again. you know quite literally nothing about weed, and to admit that to a friend of a friend is a little embarrassing. but again, if jeno trusts him, so do you.

“to be completely honest.. i know nothing about it. i just know i have trouble sleeping at night and jeno suggested it might help,” you tell him.

“so just for sleep?” he asks.

“well, yes.. and no,” you start. you finally have the opportunity to learn the ropes from someone who actually knows what they were doing, but would he be down knowing you were starting from ground zero? he peers at you, noting that your expression looks a little conflicted.

“hey, no need to feel shy about it. everyone has to start somewhere,” he assures.

his words have more of an effect on you than you would expect, feeling touched at the reassurance of someone you barely know. it’s crazy how one sentence can have you feeling like you can trust him with whatever, but you nod in response.

“i think.. i’d like to learn at least the basics about weed, or even more if you’re willing? i’ve always been interested but never had the chance to explore it, but something tells me that’s what you’re all about,” you let your inner thoughts spill. he noticeably lights up at your words.

“and you’re absolutely right! trust me, as long as you’re willing to learn, i’m more than willing to teach,” he chimes, excited for someone who could potentially be as into weed as he is.

like you, none of his close friends really indulge in the substance, and it’s not like he can smoke on the regular with his customers, so he feels genuine excitement at the prospect of a weed buddy.

the sight of his lit up face at your curiosity really reassures your decision to trust jeno’s recommendation. as if on cue, his kettle starts whistling and he gets up to turn off the burner.

you watch as he pours the water into a mug he had set to the side. your eyes trail over his outfit: a comfortable looking brown hoodie paired with some ripped jeans that hug his long legs just right.

your eyes move back up to his face, only to see him staring back at you with an eyebrow raised.

“like what you see?” he asks with a teasing grin. you groan to hide your embarrassment, now seeing what jeno meant when he called him a corny flirt. but you really were checking him out, so you quickly try to come up with an excuse.

“i’m just thinking you don’t really look like you’d be a plug,” you redirect. he shakes his head.

“and what do you think a plug should look like?” he asks, face the tiniest bit more serious. the question surprises you.

“i guess, a little scarier?” you say quietly. you do imagine a plug being that way — quiet, intimidating, maybe a few tattoos. definitely not the man in front of you with his big brown eyes behind a pair of silver framed glasses, fluffy hair and even fluffier hoodie. he laughs at your answer.

“and that is where you are wrong,” he tuts at you, waving a finger. “stoners come in all shapes and sizes, and this plug of yours just happens to be incredibly charming and handsome.” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you can’t hold back your laughter.

aside from the last part, his words ring true, and you feel a little silly at your preconceived notion. one of the main things that has stuck out from him so far is his lack of judgement, and it’s something you admire. maybe this really is a good thing for you.

“anyways, when are we gonna start these lessons?” you ask, returning to your original goal.

“we can start now if you’ve got time,” he smiles, taking a sip of his tea. you check your phone, noting that not too long has passed since you arrived. you don’t have any plans besides trying to catch up on sleep, but you know that will probably be futile. why not?

“i’ve got time,” you let him know, and he meets you with a bright smile. he gets you some water, telling you to get comfy for his “weed 101” course.

“so let’s start with sativa vs. indica.” he types something in his phone, pulling up a slideshow. “all weed will fall into one of these two, or a combination of some sort.”

“you didn’t have to make an entire presentation??” you gasp. he must really be that eager to teach you.

“just let it happen, trust the process,” he insists. “anyways, you’ve got that sleeping problem, so anything indica would be your best friend,” he explains, showing you different examples on his phone.

“and what about sativa?” you ask, and he grins.

“that, my friend, is what you smoke when you want to have fun.”

you quickly realize that there is so much more to weed than you initially thought.

he jumps from topic to topic on different strains, smoking vs. edibles, joints vs. blunts, pipes vs. bongs — it was a lot. your head spins as you try to recall all the information he’s given you, and he takes notice at the shift in your demeanor, even if you try to feign the same eagerness you had coming into it.

“is it too much? we can take it slower, break it into sessions maybe,” he offers. you’re really wowed at how down he actually is to do this, and if you’re being completely honest, hanging out with an attractive guy while learning about and potentially indulging in some weed plus hopefully getting a good night’s sleep out of it? it sounds too good to be true.

“won’t that be taking too much of your time?” you ask worriedly.

“i’m true to my word, as long as you’re willing to learn, sunshine, i’m all yours,” he says, mouth pulled into his same grin as he downs the last bit of his tea, probably cold now after hours of talking. “plus the next few times you come, i’ll bring my stuff so you can try it out.”

you know you aren’t immune to his charms, and your face warms at the affectionate words. despite the corniness jeno complained about, hyuck had a way of keeping you on your toes while giving you an odd feeling of ease.

“i think i’d like that a lot, thank you hyuck,” you beam. an alarm on his phone rings, and his eyes widen.

“it’s already time to close? time flies,” he says getting up from the seat to start closing up shop. you get up too, ready to head home. “wait,” his voice halts you.

“are you hungry?” he asks a little timidly, a stark contrast for how casual he’s been this entire time.

you’ve been there for a while, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starving at that point. “yeah definitely, my last meal was breakfast,” you recall.

“okay sit tight, then. dinner’s on me, let me close up really quick,” he smiles, and before you can protest, he’s rushing through the break room door. a smile rests on your own face. you pull out your phone to check the time, seeing messages from jeno.

4:29pm jenjen: u ok? he didn’t eat you did he

5:50pm jenjen: dude wait are u ok neither of you are responding to me 5:50pm jenjen: don’t replace me ):

7:15pm you: stop you big baby we were just having a good conversation 7:16pm you: ngl i’m glad you introduced us, i have a good feeling about this jen (:

even after you insist you pay for your own and treat him as thanks for his lessons, hyuck stubbornly refuses and pays for the entire dinner bill. as he pulls up to your apartment to drop you off at home, he places a box in your lap before you exit his car.

“tea?” you ask, eyeing the box. reaching over to your lap again he taps on the box, punctuating his words.

“this right here is something i mixed up a while ago. i’m not the biggest edible person, so when i don’t feel like smoking, i’ll drink some of this. there’s barely any weed in it, but steep it for like a minute and try some an hour or two before you sleep.”

he looks incredibly proud of his own creation, but you’re a bit conflicted. it’s difficult to meet his energy when you’re nervous at the thought of trying weed for the first time on your own.

you don’t voice your nerves, not wanting to dampen his excitement. he’s already given you a lot and you just met the guy.

“thank you hyuck, i appreciate it.” you open his car door, getting down with the box in hand. “see you next week?”

“no problem at all, try that and let me know how it goes okay? i’m kinda not the biggest texter, so call for anything,” he says softly. “i’ll see you next week, sunshine.”

with the nickname sending a buzz through you, you close his car door, padding up to the front of your apartment complex before turning to wave. he waves back, flashing his headlights, and he doesn’t leave until you’re completely inside.

you go into your kitchen, placing the box on your counter. you open it, pulling out a paper accompanied by little tied sachets containing an assortment of dried leaves.

steep for two minutes with boiling water, can steep longer if you want a stronger tea.

-h

you smile to yourself. lifting a sachet to your nose, you note that it smells like a regular bag of tea. he did say there was barely any weed in there, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try?

you double back on that thought. you really don’t know how you’re gonna react to it, and the anxieties crawl back up your throat. what if it doesn’t turn out well, and you’re all by yourself with no way of getting the substance out of you?

you don’t want to risk it. you put the contents back in the box and place it in one of your cabinets. maybe you’ll invite jeno over to try it with you so at least you’d have someone with you if it all goes wrong.

you get ready for bed, hoping that the night brings you even a little sleep.

your hopes are unfounded when you wake up to a call from your manager, begging you to come into work to help fix an urgent problem. she promises you double pay and breakfast, and reluctantly, you accept.

you head to work with only the idea of some extra money in your pocket keeping you going, but you know already the second you step foot into your work building that you will be fighting for your life for the next few hours.

by the time the sun has set, you’re dragging yourself through your apartment door, wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next 24 hours. you change out of your work clothes, hopping straight into bed and closing your eyes in hopes that sleep will take you.

when your eyes open an hour later, frustration bubbling at your throat from an hour of tossing and turning despite your utter exhaustion, you rip your sheets off, heading to your kitchen.

you open a cabinet, taking out a familiar little box. you’re willing to give this a try — anything to get some good sleep. but anxieties still run through you as you take out your phone to text your best friend.

8:35pm you: jen wyd?

you wait for a few minutes staring tiredly at your phone until a message pops up.

8:41pm jenjen: out with jaem what’s up?

you sigh, letting your friend know to forget it, and open the box. there sits a familiar note, and you trace over the neat handwritng.

call for anything. hyuck’s words ring in your ears. before you know it, you’re moving on autopilot and repeated ringing sounds through your speaker, his name displayed on the screen.

rrrring. rrrring. with every ring you feel more anxious, debating on just hanging up and resorting to melatonin, and when it reaches his voicemail, your heart sinks.

you end the call, placing your phone in your pocket and deciding to look for your forgotten sleep supplements. you don’t even take more than a couple of steps when your phone starts buzzing. you answer without even checking the id.

“__? what’s up?” his voice rings through the speakers and relief floods your system.

“hyuck, sorry to bother, but are you busy right now?” you ask.

“free for you, and not a bother, don’t apologize,” he says, and you can hear the smile on his voice. your cheeks twitch into a slight smile at his sweet words, but the tiredness seeps into your words.

“i’m gonna try your tea.. i’m so exhausted and i can’t sleep but i’m just so nervous about trying this by myself — oh and i called jeno but he’s busy — i’m sorry i ju-” your sleepy spiel is interrupted by his voice.

“woah, woah, sunshine, let’s slow it down a bit. no need to apologize for anything, really,” he assures.

you feel as though you could cry from the combination of relief and sheer exhaustion, now a little calmer explaining your circumstances and nerves at your first time having any sort of weed.

“hey, go ahead and try it, and i’ll stay on the phone until you fall asleep, okay? you can tell me if you’re feeling bad or weird or anything and i’ll be right here.”

“promise?” you ask hopefully. it’s not ideal to be asking someone you’ve known for literally a day to stay on the phone with you, but your tired mind and body scream sleep over shame.

he laughs. “you’re so cute, yes i promise.” you try not to show how much of an effect his words have on you, masking your stirring feelings by warming some water.

in the next 20 minutes, you’re sitting in bed with a cup of hot tea, taking small sips and letting the aroma waft as you chat over the phone. he’s right, the tea tastes nothing like the pungent scent of weed you are familiar with. his tea is calming and herbal.

“tell me about your day,” he requests, and you start from the call from your manager in the morning, explaining how some intern almost cost your company a client under your project, and you had to save their ass.

“you’re too good for them,” he says smugly.

“you’re just saying that, but thank you,” you reply, and he denies it, whining slightly.

“i would never say anything i don’t mean,” he asserts. he acts offended that you would even insinuate he was only flattering you, and you try not to read too much into his words, now halfway through your cup of tea.

“how about you tell me about your day, hyuck?” you ask, changing the subject.

he’s happy to talk about his day, lamenting spending his entire weekend at the shop, but explains how there were a group of unique customers today.

“this guy came in with a few friends, asking us if we have anything that could calm animals?? i honestly don’t know shit about pets but i don’t think tea and coffee are safe.” you chuckle at his animated telling of the story. “he had reeaaally nice eyebrows, though.”

your cup now sits empty on your nightstand, your head resting heavily on your pillow as you listen to him. he’s so expressive, and you hum in response to his ramblings. you have no thoughts besides how pleasing his voice is to your ears.

your eyes feel heavier and heavier as his voice sounds more and more distant.

when you wake up to your alarm set for work chiming the next morning, you feel the most rested you have in months. checking your phone, you see a missed message notification.

10:48pm hyuck =) : sleep tight, sunshine

a while has passed since your first go at the tea, and it’s three weeks until you are able to see hyuck again. at the beginning of those three weeks, you found that every couple of days hyuck would call, checking in on you. the first few calls never lasted as long as your first did, but soon you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice.

you started to ask him how his day was before he could hang up, and after a few times of sharing back and forth, nightly calls to talk about your days became a routine.

in all honesty, you wanted to see him sooner, but the work days kicked your ass and different friends made plans on your days off. despite the chaos in other parts of your life, it felt like your nightly calls were what got you through the tiring days.

you were almost out of tea, and resorted to having the tea every other day to save. something must have shifted when you met hyuck, as even without the tea, sleep came much easier with the exception of a few days.

when you call hyuck on a friday night after work, hoping to restock and spend some time with him over the weekend, he meets your request with enthusiasm.

“didn’t realize you missed my lessons so much, my #1 student,” his teasing rings over the speakers.

“actually, youtube is sounding really good right about now,” you reply, putting up a flat tone at his remarks.

“i’m kiddinggggg jeez, come to the shop around 6 tomorrow? dress warm, we’ll try something new,” he instructs, and you agree.

sitting in your living room, you take a sip of the usual tea, noting that you’re down to your last bag. you drift off to sleep that night, and instead of the anxieties you had felt the night before the first time you met him, excitement floods your system at the thought of seeing him.

the next day’s lesson brings you to a new location, still NCTeaHouse, but the cozy back patio behind the store. strung up hanging lights are already lit, given how the sun has started to set, and the lounge couch makes it look like an ideal hangout spot.

“if you see me napping back here one of these days, you better not say anything,” you joke with hyuck.

“you’re always free to, as long as i’m invited,” he winks and you’re shaking your head at his unabashed self. you’ve gotten a lot more used to his flirty words, coming to expect at least a line or two during your nightly conversations.

“anyways, you’re probably wondering why we came out here tonight.” you nod, and he lays the contents of his pockets on the small table in front of the two of you.

“i thought we could try smoking today, if you’re comfortable,” he grins, arranging everything on the table, and you’re impressed by the assortment.

he’s got different bags of weed, wrapping papers, lighters, and little tins. he gets right into explaining, pulling out the contents of the tins. he holds up two rolls, one a little thicker than the other.

“this right here is a joint, it’s just weed. this thicker one is a blunt. it’s got nicotine in the paper so the high is a little different.” he hands them to you to look at and continues. “i prefer blunts, but depending on what you put in them, a regular joint would probably be better for someone who hasn’t smoked before.”

you never doubted jeno’s words, but hyuck really is living up to your friend’s praise of his weed knowledge. you nod in understanding at his clear explanations, handing them both back to him. he sets aside the joint and starts to put away the blunt until you stop him.

“let’s do the blunt,” you quickly interject. despite wanting to go with the more beginner-friendly option, something in you wanted to do what he liked. maybe that way you could get a little taste of his world.

“wait, are you sure? it might be a bit harsh,” he warns.

“trust me, i can take it,” you say stubbornly. he pauses almost unnoticeably with an unreadable expression at your words before it shifts into a dubious look.

“if you say soooo,” he teases. you slap his arm lightly, huffing as he laughs before getting up to grab some water before you begin. he settles back into the couch once he’s back. he picks out a blunt and his lighter, turning to you with a more serious expression.

“this high will probably feel a bit more intense than anything the tea could do, so just take it easy okay? if you start feeling bad, please tell me,” he emphasizes. “promise?” he holds out his pinky.

you nod, linking your own pinky around his. he tightens the hold and you feel your heart tighten a bit in turn. the emotions whirling in you are too complex to decipher, ranging from slight anxiety at the thought of actually being high to gratitude for hyuck’s reassurance.

“just watch, okay?” he places the blunt between his lips, lighter flicking at its edge as he inhales for a few seconds. he holds the smoke in, rotating the blunt a few times before straining his neck up to exhale a hefty cloud of smoke.

the sight leaves you breathless. hyuck is attractive, and of that you have been sure since the day you met.

but this hyuck, sitting next to you in his black leather jacket and dark jeans on the baggier side stirs something inside of you. it’s just one hit, but you’re outright entranced by his movements. he brings the blunt back to his mouth for another hit, and flicks it on an ash tray sitting on the table as he holds in the smoke.

your eyes don’t leave his hands, adorned in a few simple rings as he moves as if it’s just muscle memory, smooth and rehearsed. he again lifts his head to release the smoke, and this time you can see a vein that trails down his thick neck as it comes into full view.

what is likely not even half a minute feels like an eternity to you, and it takes a couple calls of your name to snap you out of your trance.

“earth to __? wanna try now?” hyuck waves his hand in front of you, offering the freshly ashed blunt.

“just a couple seconds, and not too strong of a pull. hold it in for a few seconds before releasing the smoke,” he instructs as you pick it out of his grasp. you nod, bringing it to your mouth.

you do as he says, pulling only for a few seconds before passing it back to him, intending to hold the smoke in. you don’t get to that point though, for as soon as the two second mark hits, your throat constricts as you involuntarily cough up the smoke you pulled from the blunt.

curses leave hyuck’s mouth as he quickly puts out the blunt, scrambling to hand you the water he brought earlier. you take it quickly, letting the water soothe your throat as you continue coughing between sips.

“are you okay?” he asks, worried expression on his face.

“i-i’m good, i thought i was gonna do better than that for my first one though,” you admit sheepishly.

“hey, we’ve got a lot of time to practice,” he reassures.

you’re not sure if the weed is already hitting you, but the warm hanging lights seem to illuminate his face even more. his fingers play with a silver chain laying on his white shirt.

“do you want to try another? or are you good?” he asks, peering into your face to check for any signs of dicomfort.

“i’ll try one more time,” you resolve, and he grins, firing the lighter back up. he holds the blunt up in front of you, and your hand moves to grab it, but he doesn’t let go, keeping it steady in front of your mouth.

“go for it, sunshine,” he gives you the go ahead, still holding it for you as your mind screams at the intimacy. you lean forward a bit to take a small hit of the blunt, trying to ignore his eyes burning into you. you make sure to inhale a little less than the first time.

“goood, just like that, now hold it in for a bit.”

you lean back into the chair as hyuck brings the blunt to his own lips, taking a drag out of it as he watches you carefully. this time, your throat doesn’t constrict, and you blow the smoke upwards emulating his earlier movements.

“that’s my girl,” he praises, smile stretched wide. you were doing so well, but his praise catches you at the very last bit of smoke leaving your throat, causing a hitch in your throat as you lightly cough.

he hands you the water again, patting your back as you curse under your breath.

“don’t worry, it’s still your first time, and i’ve heard coughing after smoking gets you even higher,” he coos, pats turning into gentle circles on your back.

you feel hyperaware of his touch, but when his hand separates from your form a piece of you longs to have it back. you glance at him as he takes another hit. you might not necessarily know what feeling high feels like yet, but whatever you’re feeling right now might just be it.

the anxiety and gratitude you felt coming into the smoke session has melted into something else — a desire of some sort that you can’t put your finger on. you know that’s not from the substance now in your system.

all you know is that the fuzzy feeling in your body and mind along with the dark-haired man next to you is something you could get used to.

after that day, something definitely shifted. you see hyuck a lot more, and every time he comes more than excited to teach you something new.

the next time you see him it’s pipes. he came prepared with two — one for you and him, and sent you home with the one you were using once you got the hang of it, insisting it liked you better.

another time is bongs. this one was pretty hard for you to get a hang of, and his hands guided yours on how to hold the bong and when to take out the bowl. it was hard to stay focused on the steps with his casual physical contact, so you’d have to revisit that.

one of the days, he even brings his dab rig set up to show you. you were completely lost with this one, and he didn’t force it, just assuring you that you could always come to him and he’d have it all ready and set for you.

he takes pride in showing you his creations, and is always quick to affirm you as you learn. while he never explicitly said he was doing it, you could tell after the first time you smoked that he wanted to find ways to make smoking a little easier on you.

you recall a specific day you came over to the shop, promised the “hyuckie special” by its namesake over the phone the night before. you were surprised to see someone other than hyuck in the shop once you arrived, especially since it was after hours.

“are you the one donghyuck’s been bringing around here?” a tall man with ashy brown hair tucked behind his ears stood behind the counter. he was really handsome, but also slightly intimidating. the tattoos on his exposed arms reminded you of your initial idea of what a plug looked like.

you muttered a timid yes as you approached the man. he definitely looked a little older than you and hyuck.

“johnny, i’m the owner of your little love nest,” he joked, hand reached out to shake yours.

you shook his hand, introducing yourself as you tried to tell him you’re just friends. before you could, hyuck busted through the front door, eyes going to your joined hands.

he stomped up to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you stepped back from the counter.

“what are we talking about?” he asked, pointed look at johnny. johnny just laughed loudly, clutching his stomach as you stood there, confused.

“relax lover boy,” he regained composure, turning to you. “thanks for keeping him busy, i should’ve known something was up when he stopped texting me every week whining about the shop.”

hyuck’s hand tightened around your shoulder, and he started tugging you around the back.

“don’t listen to him, bye,” he called not even looking back. johnny just waved, trying to keep down another laugh at his cousin’s erratic behavior.

“bye, __, see you around!” he waved, you returning it as best you could as hyuck pushed you through the door. as soon as you reached the back patio, a sulky hyuck started grumbling.

“you won’t be seeing him, he’s barely at his own shop anyways.” he plopped down on the couch, emptying his pockets as usual.

a lilac colored tin stuck out among his materials, and you picked it up to see what it was. his familiar neat handwriting spelled out your name.

“made that one for you, think you’d really like it,” he noticed you observing it, sulkiness gone.

a floral, herbal scent wafted to your senses once you opened it, and inside you saw a few joints.

“that’s the hyuckie special — or should i say the __ special?” he pondered, taking them from you to show them off. “i know you secretly prefer joints so don’t argue with me, but this one is a custom blend of a hybrid strain and dried lavender, you know, for your sleeping problem.”

you didn’t know what to say besides thank you over and over, touched at his consideration and the fact that he made a blend just for you. only for you.

from then on, that special blend quickly became your favorite as it really did help you relax a bit more. he would have his blunts of choice while you settled on the special formula made just for you.

your time with hyuck definitely shifted, but it wasn’t the only thing — something in you shifted as well.

that desire you felt that first night you smoked only burns brighter and hotter — the phone calls aren’t ever enough anymore, you need to see him, to be with him. even with a busy schedule with work and other friends, you make time, because being with him feels like nothing you have ever felt before.

somewhere along the routine of monotony in your life, maybe you subconsciously pushed yourself to the back of your priorities. but with hyuck, the way he takes care of you just makes you feel so prioritized, so seen.

he remembers your favorites and preferences even if mentioned only in passing, teases you with inside jokes only he could know, follows up on any gossip or worries you share, picks you up and drops you off at home, and never lets you pay for anything — food or weed alike.

you’ve never had an easier time falling asleep, with or without weed, and you can only assume that this connection with hyuck gave you a way of navigating the anxieties and negative feelings that plagued you. he felt like your person.

you could swear jeno’s eyes could fall out of his head from how wide-eyed he stares at you as you tell him all of this, from the generous lessons to the custom blend to your complex feelings growing by the day.

“you better not tell him any of this,” you warn, but jeno’s expression is still in shock. “what is it?”

“are you sure we’re talking about the same guy? hyuck? like lee donghyuck??” jeno asks in disbelief.

“yes?? who else would i be talking about?” you’re confused by your best friend’s reaction.

“no fucking way, because the hyuck i know would never do any of that. i don’t even think he knows when my birthday is,” he says.

“to be fair, i don’t think he knows when mine is either?” you offer. jeno looks straight into your eyes, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“no i mean to say — he doesn’t pay anyone that much attention, even his friends, and i know he’d never willingly shell out his weed money, let alone every single time you’re together,” he explains. “i thought the weed lesson was gonna be a one- or two-time thing, not a whole series.”

you didn’t think so either. the time you spend together isn’t even lesson-like anymore, with it just being smoke or tea sessions with endless conversation. there’s no clear definitions, but you know you need to ask jeno’s opinion.

“do you think he likes me? like likes me?” you ask your best friend. it feels silly to ask like that, to have feelings that makes you unable to think of anyone else.

but you ask even though you think you know. you’d be blind to not notice his actions, the look in his eyes, and johnny’s insinuations. jeno’s surprise at his special treatment of you is just further confirmation.

“honestly, in my eyes he’s down bad, but do you like him?” jeno asks, unsure if he’s liking where your conversation is going.

you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t. somewhere along the course of this whole thing, that desire that planted the first time you ever met him grew every time afterward and bloomed into something you could no longer contain.

you never tried to deny it, but you’re realizing this is your first time actually admitting it. you look down, suddenly shy under the focused gaze of your best friend.

“jen, i do. i really do like him,” you confess, entire body warming at the quiet declaration.

jeno’s quiet for a second before letting out a groan in response. you look up to see him with a hand over his face.

“what’s wrong?” you’re slightly offended at that response, but jeno just shakes his head.

“nothing, just always knew he was a corny flirt, just never thought you’d eat that up,” he muses. “he’s annoying, but he’s not a bad guy.”

“should i tell him?” you ask, hoping for advice. jeno shrugs.

“that’s up to you, i don’t know what your relationship with him looks like besides what you’ve told me,” he replies, not giving you an answer you so desperately want. “what i do know is i’ll kick his ass if he ever hurts you, and you can never replace me. got it?”

you lunge at your best friend, squeezing him affectionately and barraging him with promises of unchanging friendship.

you sit at your dining table reading the label of a little bag.

“a friend left this at mine the other day and told me to keep it, but i don’t fuck with weed so you can have it, little miss stoner,” jeno had said, giving you a bag of gummy edibles before dropping you off at home after dinner.

you thanked him for it at the time, taking it with you inside. edibles are the form of weed you are least experienced with. hyuck had explained them briefly, but you’ve never done them with him since he doesn’t really like them too much. he reasoned that smoking helps him control his intake better.

you’re feeling a little daring tonight, however. you have a lot more experience with weed now, and your tolerance has definitely risen.

though you’re a little nervous about trying them without hyuck, it’s too late to call and you feel a bit more confident at your weed capabilities. the you from the beginning of this weed journey would be surprised at how much you’ve changed.

it’s just a little gummy, how bad could it be? plus you have the next day off, kicking that worry. you pull out a single pineapple gummy, splitting it into halves before eating one. you settle into your couch, turning on your tv to let the edible kick in.

when an hour passes and you still don’t feel anything, you’re confused. you look up how long it takes for an edible to hit and check the package for an expiration date, but everything seems fine. has your tolerance risen that much?

you pick up the other half of the gummy, looking at it carefully before deciding it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more. the dosage per piece is not anything concerning, so you eat the other half without thinking too much.

when your eyes start to blur in the next 5 minutes, you know you’ve made a mistake.

you’re glued to your couch, staring at the ceiling as the high runs through your body, feeling a slight tingle from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, coming and going in intense waves. your thoughts race, and 99% of your thoughts are consumed by hyuck, hyuck, and hyuck.

an uncertain amount of time has passed, your phone forgotten somewhere in your apartment, but you feel like you’re in an endless cycle of a million thoughts turning into no thoughts at all, all while your body is experiencing such a new, yet heavy feeling.

the smoking high is definitely different from this edible high, and you start to understand why hyuck prefers the former.

you don’t feel like you’re in control of yourself at all, and the feeling is entirely too overwhelming. the second half of that edible hits, with the high intensifying and your thoughts jumping yet again.

a feeling of dread runs through you.

you had been doing well keeping a general positive/neutral train of thought on that first half of the edible, but the second a single negative thought hits you, you find yourself unable to stop the spiral.

why did you do this to yourself? don’t you need to focus on other things? are you going to let this be another thing that drags you down? what does hyuck really think of you? do you really think he feels the same way as you?

you fight back against your own thoughts, wrestling to tell yourself that everything with him has been nothing but good, but the intensity of this high brings an entirely new side to all of this — paranoia.

hyuck had explained before that paranoia could come with being high, but you had overtime forgotten the possibility. being high has given nothing but good times and relaxation, but all of that could probably be attributed to the company you had getting there.

you don’t even realize you have tears streaming out of your eyes until your hand comes back wet after rubbing your face.

it’s all too much, and more than anything your mind screams that you need hyuck.

you force yourself to get up, hazy eyes looking for your phone, spotting it on the dining table.

12:27am. hyuck should still be awake gaming, and you can only hope that he is. you crumple to the floor as you quickly find his contact and call him.

only one ring passes when he picks up.

“what’s up, sunshine?” his voice rings through the speaker and you can hear the click of his mouse and keyboard in the background. immediately a sense of relief washes through your body, slightly breaking through the high and has the tears flowing harder than before.

“h-hyuck,” you sob, and immediately the sound of clicking stops.

“are you crying? what’s wrong? are you okay?” his concern makes you want to cry even more, but more than that you want him here with you.

“hyuck, i-i took an edible and i think i took too much and i’m so overwhelmed right now — i can’t stop thinking and crying and i’m just so scared,” you weep, and you hear rustling coming from the phone and the clinking of keys before you’re even done with your sentence.

“stay on the phone with me, baby, i’ll be right there, what’s your apartment number?”

he really knows you like the back of his hand. somehow, he knows that what you need most is him. even if he didn’t know that, the fact that he’s rushing over without you even having to ask helps you shut down the voices that tell you he doesn’t care.

10 minutes of affirmations and sweet words come as you cry, trying so desperately to hold back from telling him everything you’ve been feeling, including what you feel about him.

when his call cuts off with a knock at your front door, you stumble over to let him in, legs having fallen asleep from your position on the floor as you called him.

as soon as you open the door and see him, hair freshly washed and in a hoodie and sweats, the anxiety leaves you like a spell. his glasses are slightly fogged, and he’s catching his breath from rushing up here.

the second he gets a glimpse of your puffy eyes and tear streaked face, he comes in, enveloping you in the warmest, tightest hug.

you immediately melt into him, wrapping your arms around him as he leans back against the front door. you stay there for a few minutes, emptying your eyes out as he comforts you.

“hey, why is my pretty girl crying? what are you so scared of? i’m right here,” he coos as one arm remains securely around you as the other hand alternates between patting your head and massaging the back of your neck.

when the tears seem to have subsided, he waddles over with you still in his arms to your living room couch, and you remain firmly attached to him. he checks your face for anymore tears, and when he finds none, sits you on the couch to get you some water.

“where are your cups?” he asks, checking the cabinets, and you tell him there’s bottles in the fridge. you look at him from your spot on the couch, and immediately feel your heart pang.

this is the first time he’s actually been inside your apartment, but you can’t help but think that he looks so perfect here — that your living space somehow feels more complete than it ever has.

when he sits down with you, handing you tissues and water, he has a hand on your arm, rubbing up and down as you gulp down some water, only now realizing how dry your mouth is.

“so you wanna tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours? and who you got these edibles from? because i know it wasn’t fucking me.” some agitation peeks through his otherwise neutral tone, but his eyes are serious as he waits for your answer.

you tell him about how jeno gave it to you, and hand him the package as he reads the label.

“you had one piece right? that should be fine, but it looks like you might be a bit more sensitive to this since it’s your first time with edibles.” he scolds you lightly, tapping your forehead. “still, i wish you would have called me to at least be on the phone with you when you tried it.”

“i-i wanted to, trust me. but it was late and i thought i could handle it,” you explain.

“that’s why i hate those things, only take them when i really want to feel high as shit, but look what they’ve done to you, baby,” he frowns, going back to rubbing your arms up and down. “any weed needs, you come to me, okay? don’t need my girl going to others for that when i’ve got more than enough.”

my girl.

you realize in your hazy state that his usual “sunshine” has been replaced with other, more endearing, names — my girl, my pretty girl, baby. the sound of his voice has always been addicting to you, but the affectionate names leaving his mouth take it a step further.

you want to hear more. with a boldness that could only be fueled by the weed still running its course through your system, you lean into him, laying your head on his shoulder.

“can you call me that again?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“what?” his voice right next to your ear sends chills all over your body.

“you know.. your girl.. i really like how that sounds.” immediately he’s separated from you, hands holding you at the upper arms as he looks at you with wide eyes.

“what?” he repeats again, and you could almost laugh at how shocked he looks at you mentioning a name he called you.

“your girl.. or baby too..” you say, dazed. you are definitely coming down from your high, but the ensuing sleepiness is making you even more honest. but more than anything, you want to be honest with him right now.

“wanna be your baby, hyuck.”

he lets out a pained groan at your words, running a hand over his face.

“__, you’re high as fuck. you don’t know what you’re saying,” he says, bottom lip between his teeth.

“i know what i’m saying,” you hook your finger around his chain, tugging him a little closer. “i want you to be my baby, too.”

you lean in, closing the distance between you as your faces hover just centimeters from each other. hyuck holds his breath, eyes darting from your glossy eyes down to your lips. he can’t help it, eyes getting hazy as you close the distance, kissing him.

he returns your energy, pressing closer to you with his hands grasping your waist. he moves to deepen the kiss, but after a few seconds the pressure on your waist increases, shutting his eyes tighter before pushing you back slightly.

“i hope you still mean this in the morning, because i want to be yours too,” he has a slightly pained smile. “but you’re so high right now, i don’t want to do anything you’d regret once you’re sober.” you whine at him trying to kiss him again while he stops you, holding your shoulders.

“don’t tempt me, you don’t know how hard you’re making this for me, baby.” he gets up, tugging you up along with him. “let’s get you to bed, sunshine.” he lets you lead him to your bedroom, his hands set on your shoulders, and you plop down on your bed, eyes already heavy.

you hold out your arms to him.

“sleep here tonight?” you ask, and he groans after slapping a hand over his eyes.

“you’re testing me,” he chokes out. you jut out your lower lip, but your eyes threaten to shut any moment.

“i’m not testing you, i just want to wake up to you, is that too much to ask?” in his eyes, you look so cute cuddled up in your bed, eyes begging him to stay. his heart soars as he realizes the sight he’s seen in his dreams could be a reality, starting now.

“i really can’t win against you, just give me a second.” he leaves for a little while, turning off the lights throughout your apartment and making sure the front door is locked before sliding into bed with you.

he immediately pulls you by the waist closer to him, and you, drifting to sleep, cuddle into his chest.

“i won’t do anything okay? don’t worry about anything,” he promises sincerely.

“thank you hyuck.. thank you..” you mumble a bit, nuzzling into him further, sleep taking over. he just holds you tighter.

“sleep tight, sunshine.”

that’s the last thing you hear before you enter into a deep, deep sleep, feeling secure and warm wrapped up in hyuck’s arms.

you wake up to soft snoring and long arms wrapped around you, and as you rub the sleep from your eyes his face comes into full view.

hyuck is sleeping so peacefully in front of you, and if one thing remains from your raging high last night, it’s that hyuck just fits perfectly in your space, it feels overwhelmingly good in his arms, and you want him here always.

“i like you,” the words come out as a whisper as you brush some hair from his forehead. he pops one eye open, elliciting a gasp from you.

“all good, sunshine?” he asks, and you nod. in a second he’s closing the distance between you two, laying a tender kiss on your lips. his arms tighten around you as you lean into him, letting yourself indulge in his warm kisses.

“this isn’t a dream right?” you ask sleepily, and he chuckles at the way you open and close your eyes to see if he’s still there.

“you dream about me?” he grins, and you hide your face back in his chest, nodding slowly. “good, because i dream about you too.”

any sleepiness you had has dissipated completely, and you feel like your heart would explode if you met his eyes right now. his hand, however, meets your chin to tilt your head back up.

“i like you too, by the way, if it wasn’t already obvious,” and with his own confession he meets your lips once more.

it takes a while for the two of you to get out of bed, with both of you dozing off and on, sharing lazy kisses and cuddles until hyuck’s stomach starts rumbling.

“maybe we should get something to eat?” you suggest, starting to slip off the blanket. he’s quick to try and stop you, but before he can catch you you’ve stood up, tugging hyuck by the arm.

“5 more minutes, pleaaaase,” he whines, arm going limp at your efforts to get him up.

“it’s already almost dinnertime, hyuck,” you check your phone, surprised at how much time has passed. his glasses sit next to your phone on the nightstand. while you’re distracted, he sits up at the edge of the bed, looking at you with a darker expression.

his hands trail down your waist, squeezing lightly once he reaches your hips. you drop your phone to be met with his hooded eyes trained on your lips. his eyes meet yours, and your breath hitches as he tightens his grip on your hips.

“i think i’d like to eat something else,” he whispers, leaning into your neck, peppering kisses from the bottom of your chin down your throat. you let out a surprised whimper at the sensation, chills running down your arms.

you move your head down, wanting to kiss him, and as if he reads your mind, his lips meet yours with a passion mirroring the one from the night before.

“lay down, let me get my fill, sunshine,” he urges, feeling himself already incredibly hard at the thought of himself between your legs.

“we’ve been in bed all day, we should take showers and eat first or something,” you start, but you’re cut off with a sharp tug, hyuck pulling you beside him. he sinks to his knees by your legs hanging off the bed.

“later, i need you so bad, you have no idea.” his hands move under your shirt as he loops his hands in the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“do you want this, baby?” he asks as you lean back on your arms, meeting his pleading eyes from his spot between your legs. you gnaw on your lip, already feeling the dampness on your panties. you do want this. so bad.

“i want you, hyuck,” you give him the go ahead. he’s more than willing to give you everything you want and more. he pulls your shorts down your legs, groaning at the sight of the wet patch on your underwear.

he pulls that off as well, spreading your lips with his pointer and middle fingers as he admires your core.

“stop staring, it’s embarrassing,” you look away, hips shifting as you feel yourself getting more and more turned on by the second.

“just admiring, baby,” he states warmly, glancing up at your embarrassed expression as he wraps his arms around your legs, hands digging in as he grabs at the flesh of your thighs.

he leans in, licking a stripe from your entrance up to your clit, ending his trail with a swirl of your bud. you moan out at the sensation, clutching at your sheets as he really gets his fill.

he’s messy, tongue going from prodding at your entrance to his face moving side to side over your clit. a growl leaves his throat as he feels your hands move to grip his hair.

“you don’t even know what you were doing to me last night, baby,” he groans into your cunt. “had me going fucking crazy.”

one of his arms unwraps from your thigh, hand pushing at your legs to keep them spread as his long fingers prod at your entrance, one entering you slowly as you grip his hair even tighter. he drags it in and out of you in time with the circles he licks around your clit.

“you’re my baby, right?” he asks, voice sending vibrations through you. he inserts another finger into your entrance and curls them into you, feeling around for a spot that will get you moving just right. he’s stretching you out so well, getting you prepared, wanting you to feel good.

you can’t even respond, already feeling your mind start to wander off, feeling a high so different from every other one he’s shown you. he finds a spot that makes you squeal just a bit higher, and he pistons his fingers in and out to hit that spot just right.

“where’s my sunshine from last night? the one hanging on to me, cute as fuck,” he recalls your high state, how you just melted into him in a different way from how he had you now.

“come on, one more time, don’t you remember? wanna be your baby, hyuck,” raising his voice to a teasing tone in a half-hearted imitation of you. his fingers don’t falter in the slightest.

“please sunshine, let me hear that again?” your mouth, open from the cries leaving you, can’t form any words. he leans down to lay a hard suck on your clit, sending you over the edge as you cry out, legs clamping down on his head as he rides out your orgasm.

he detaches from you as your legs drop, and he stands up between them to get a full view of you fucked out for him.

“fuck, baby, you look so fucking good right now. straight out of my dreams.” he palms himself over his sweats, feeling like he could burst any second, before ripping off his hoodie.

the sight of him standing over you, silver chain lying on his bare chest, is also something out your own dreams. you can feel yourself clench seeing his cock straining through his sweats. you catch your breath, mustering the energy squeeze him between your thighs.

in a second he’s pulling his sweats down, hard member slapping his stomach as he lays it on top of your core, admiring how it looks on your body.

“does my pretty girl need to be filled up?” he teases, pushing your legs up as he starts to tease at your entrance with his tip. you want it so bad, need it.

“then let me hear it, you’re my baby, right?” he lets his tip catch onto your entrance as you gasp.

“f-fuck, hyuck, i’m your baby! i’m your ba-” the second half of the word comes out as a shriek at the feeling of him entering you, bottoming out right away thanks to his prep. the feeling of being so full winds you, stealing the air from your lungs.

he hisses as your pussy grips him, throwing his head up. you can see the vein on his neck protruding, thick neck strained as he tries to get himself in check.

“relax for me, please baby,” he pleads through gritted teeth, circling your clit. “can’t move like this, i’ll cum too soon.”

you breathe in and out as the two of you try to reel it in, and his hips start to move slowly as he feels you adjust to him.

“you’ve been my baby since the day we met,” he breathes out. “since the time you told me you could take it.”

his voice has always been addicting, over the phone, in person, sober or high, but the way he talks to you in this moment just stirs something in your gut. you can’t stop yourself from clenching at his words.

“oh, you like when i talk to you like that?” he pulls out to push you up so your legs are no longer hanging off the bed, making his way to hover above you as he re-enters you.

“you’ve always been so good for me, always so eager to learn, always so willing to take everything i give you,” he lowers himself as he says this straight into your ear. his hips pick up the pace again, hissing at the clench from his words.

“can you, f-fuck, can you take it now?” he breathes out as he feels himself reaching you deeper and deeper.

“i-i can take it, hyuck, i can take it,” you moan out, tears pricking at your eyes as you shut them tight. he’s fucking you so well, and you can only moan as you do just that — take everything he’s giving you.

“you know ’d never do any of this for anyone else, o-only you baby, just wanna make my girl happy,” your heart clenches at his words along with your pussy.

“thought m-my heart was gonna stop when, shit, w-when you called me crying,” his words come out more choked as his hips rut against yours more desperately, starting to feel his own high coming.

“need to be with you a-always, be the only reason you’re crying.” you can only chant his name and yes as you feel the band in your stomach start to get tighter and tighter.

“i’d fucking do anything for you, i’m yours,” he chokes out, and your nails dig into his back.

“i’m your baby, i’m yours, i’m yours,” you repeat, brain unable to form anything else. his kisses your neck before moving his head back above you, his chain swinging against your face as his pelvic bone slaps against your clit harshly.

he moves his head up to kiss you deeply, messy remnants of your own arousal still on his toungue. the bed is creaking under the harsh movements as you get closer and closer.

tears stream down the sides of your face as the band snaps, sending you hurling over the edge as your back arches, gripping onto him tightly.

he curses under his breath repeatedly, hips stuttering to push through the tightness as he cums inside with a loud groan, pushing his head into your neck as he fills you up completely.

he goes limp on top of you, lying there for a bit as you both catch your breath. his softening cock is still inside of you, and you can feel yourself getting drowzy until his stomach rumbles.

he hisses as he pulls out, rolling over to lie down next to you. you turn your head to look at him, entire body spent. your eyes meet his, so soft and full of awe. he looks just as worn, but little do you know, he’s just getting started.

“round 2 after dinner?”

the next morning, a half-asleep hyuck nuzzles you to wake you up, having set an alarm for your work shift.

“sleep okay, sunshine?” his morning voice is deep and groggy, and it’s taking everything in you to not call out for the day.

you feel pretty well rested until you realize how sore your entire body is as soon as you try to wiggle out of his bear hug. his arms wrapped around you are unmoving as he tries unsuccessfully to fully wake himself up as well.

forcing yourself to sit up, you rub your sore back. his hands are still stubbornly attached to your form.

“like a baby,” you reply. you grab your phone, checking your schedule for today, concluding that it’s flexible enough to take a sick day. you text your manager, settling back into hyuck’s arms as you tell him you’re staying home. eyes still half-closed, he presses kisses into every part of your face his lips can find.

“good.” his response is simple as he speaks with his actions, pulling you in closer as the two of you drift back into sleep.

you’re content knowing that your mission to get rid of your sleeping problem was a 100% success, in more ways than just through weed, and that it’s ending with you having more than you could have asked for.

end.

a/n: if you got to the end, thank you so much for reading!!! i know i say this about every fic i've written, but this one was truly truly self-indulgent. it's my first full fic for my ult, longest fic yet, and a birthday present to myself :')

i really appreciate all the support for everything even though i have long gaps between releases. i have had sm fun, and i hope you all enjoy!! this one's more plot than porn but it's def getting a pt2 that's the opposite (it's already planned). thank you again, feedback always loved and appreciated!!

disclaimer: know your limits when consuming weed of any kind. also not all edibles are bad and can be so chill, just for my personal experience my own tolerance of edibles is low compared to smoking 😭 reactions/tolerances vary among people (edibles work better than smoking for many!) but pls be in safe place or with trusted people if you are trying weed for the first time !!!

-coco ♡

[hwaslayer]

butterflies (smg) | one shot.

—summary: life with your husband & daughter is always full of butterflies.

—pairing: song mingi x f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) established relationship/marriage, parents au | fluff, smut

—word count: 3.2k

—content/warnings: cussing/mature language (away from the baby!), quick neck/shoulder massage, innocent shower lol, lots of sweet kisses/making out!, unprotected sex, missionary, cowgirl, oral (f. receiving), fingering, sprinkle of breast play, multiple orgasms (two), it's incredibly soft and sweet smut though!!

—a/n: happy birthday to our mingi mangi, but also - happy birthday to my entire soul, my favorite person in the world, my other half @persphonesorchid. i love you more than you can even comprehend!!! 💞 whipped this up as a secret little bday present hehe

—on rotation: butterflies pt. 2 x queen naija

“Daddy!” Harin squeals when Mingi plops the tiny pancake onto her pink princess plate, setting the pan aside so he could place blueberries in a shape of a happy face.

“There, babygirl. All done!” He smiles at her and gives her a kiss on the top of her head. 

“No!” She pouts and points towards the fridge.

“You don’t like it?” It’s Mingi’s turn to pout.

“It's not done.”

“Hm.” Mingi hums as he stands there with his hands on his hips, pondering on what the 3 yr old is trying to tell him. Then, it suddenly dawns on him, snapping his fingers in the sudden revelation. “Ah! You’re right. I’m sorry, daddy’s fault.” He says, taking the can of whipped cream out of the fridge. “Here.” He chuckles, spraying a bit around the edges. “Better now, right?”

“Mhm.” Harin nods as smiles up at him, eyes twinkling as the three year old looks at him in pure adoration. She was daddy’s girl, and daddy’s girl at best. 

At this point, you’ve headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, watching your husband plop a small amount of whip cream on your daughter’s tiny little nose before she does the same on his cheek. You giggle as Mingi swipes the tiny trail of whip cream with his finger, plopping some more onto her nose.

Butterflies.

It’s the way Mingi looks at her like she’s his entire universe, like he adores her and loves her more than words could ever capture. It’s the way Harin constantly yearns for him and asks for his company, his jokes— making him smile and laugh in return because of her silly antics.

They give you butterflies.

“Mommy!” Harin is a giggling mess as she lays eyes on you, her dad smiling innocently off to the side.

“Daddy making a mess, huh?” She sticks her tongue out to try and lick the cream from the tip of her nose. “Silly girl.” You chuckle as you wipe her nose with a napkin.

“Goodmorning, beautiful.” Mingi pulls you close and smiles down at you, brushing the hair out of your face before kissing your forehead. “Sleep okay?”

“I think so? I think a need a new pillow. My neck is kinda bothering me.”

“Hm. Does it hurt pretty bad?” Mingi asks as he turns to grab your plate and hands it to you. “Made you a plate, by the way.”

“Thanks, baby.” You press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips before sitting beside Harin. “And no, nothing a new pillow can’t fix. I think.” You shrug and settle down to eat.

“I’m sorry, love. Maybe I can give you a massage later to help?”

“If you’re not too busy.” You smirk as he sets his plate down and sits on the opposite side of Harin.

“Never.” He begins to dig in just as you do. “So, what does the princess wanna do today?” Mingi turns to Harin and she laughs.

“Can we go to the park please, Daddy?” 

“You wanna go to the park?”

“Mhm, with mommy too.”

“With mommy, too?” He repeats animatedly. “Sounds like a plan to me.” You laugh a bit as you brush Harin’s hair back and let her finish eating. 

“Okay, lovebug. We’ll go on a walk and head to the park together, but you’ll need to finish your food first.” You boop her nose. “Deal?”

“Deal!”

“There you go!” You cheer her on to make her laugh. 

Her laugh brings you butterflies.

Once the three of you have wrapped up with breakfast, Mingi takes the plates and washes it along with the bowl and pan he used to make breakfast this morning. It’s a crisp, cool morning, but nothing entirely unbearable. You’re dressed in a loose cropped sweater and sweats, while Mingi is in a shirt and track pants. He helps Harin into a light jacket and puts a beanie over her head, locking the door behind him once he’s gotten you both out of the door. 

The park is a close walk from the house, and it’s Harin’s favorite park of all time. The play structure is huge and updated, with features that most playgrounds nearby don’t have. For a minute, she’s walking in between you and Mingi, holding the both of your hands until she requests to be propped up on Mingi’s shoulders.

He willingly does it without complaint, always doing his best to make you and Harin the happiest.

When your family arrives at the park, there's only two other children playing around— giving Harin the ability to make use of her time at the playground wisely. Mingi joins along and plays with her, never showing signs of exhaustion or boredom even when he follows her around. He pushes her on the swings, plays tag with her, helps her down the ‘big girl slide’ and helps her cross the monkey bars confidently.

He is the sweetest, and even as time goes on, the butterflies you feel for this man only seem to increase— never dies, never goes away.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Harin yells for you at the end of the monkey bars, both your husband and daughter waving and yelling that she’s made it to the end. You laugh and eventually join in on their playground shenanigans before the hour quickly flies by.

Luckily, Harin must have enjoyed herself a little too much that she doesn’t complain when it’s time to go. She happily hops back onto Mingi’s shoulders as they sing a song with you on the way back home, running into the bathroom for a quick wash-up before plopping onto her usual seat at the dining table for a small snack.

You clean around in the kitchen, occasionally watching as she eats away at her strawberry snack bar. It doesn’t take long before she’s exhibiting signs of exhaustion and sleepiness:

One, she continues to rub away at her eyes.

Two, she begins to mumble her responses and pouts more than usual.

Three, she constantly asks for her dad to hold her.

“Alright, let’s get you outta here and into bed, babygirl.” He lifts her in one swift motion, bringing her over to you for a quick kiss. Once Mingi disappears upstairs and into Harin’s room, you finish up in the kitchen and head to your room to rest a bit. You change into shorts and a cropped tee once you’ve stepped inside, plopping onto the bed to get comfortable in the meantime.

“Phew.” Mingi says, quietly stepping into your room and shutting the door. “She knocked out quick. As soon as I tucked her in and gave her a kiss, she was out like a light.” You giggle.

“She had a blast at the park. She’ll have a good nap.”

“Yeah, she will.” Mingi plops onto the bed next to you as you try to sit back against the wall and put on a show to indulge in— feeling content with the fact that you don’t have much to do around the house today.

“Babe, we do need to get groceries when Harin wakes up though.”

“Okay.” He looks up at you as he continues to lay on his stomach at a weird angle on the bed, his hands gently tracing circles on your knee. “But, we have an hour? Maybe an hour and a half, until she wakes up? What can I do for you?” He places a quick kiss against your knee. “Neck still bothering you?”

“Kinda?”

“You sure it’s just your pillow?” Mingi looks at you with concern. He knows you’ve been having some rough, long days at work; though, you’re incredibly great at masking it because you don’t ever wanna bring that stress home.

He knows you, and he knows you well.

After all, you are his other half.

“Maybe? I think I’ve just been exhausted from work overall.”

“Come here.” He finally gets up and fixes his position, motioning for you to settle in between his legs. You comfortably sit with your legs crossed, while Mingi begins to massage your neck and shoulders; easing the knots you have felt from the past days. “Does this feel okay?”

“It feels perfect.” You breath out while his hands continue to do the work. You feel his breath against your skin, sending tingles down your spine.

“Good.” He chuckles as he watches you shift in your position, enjoying every moment of this surprise massage from Mingi. “What else can I do for you, love?” He asks softly, close to a whisper. “Can I make you feel better in any other way?”

“Hm.” You hum, his voice hitting a certain feeling in your gut, hitting you down to your core. “You make me feel better, Mingi. Just having you is enough." He hears the way your tone dips a bit, catches the way you subtly bite onto your lip and expose your neck more. He smiles to himself when your body continues to relax in his hold— lips grazing the surface of your shoulder, the nape of your neck.

“Yeah?” He finally plants a few kisses on your shoulders, moving to your neck, gently nibbling on your earlobe. “Does that make you feel better?” He hears the sigh you let out, feeling your hands rest along his thighs. “Or, this?” He asks, kissing your jaw.

“Babe, Harin.”

“The princess won’t wake up. I promise.” He chuckles a bit. “Let me take care of you.” 

“You always do.” You slightly turn to him and meet his eyes. He stares at you for a second, eyes darting between your lips, eyes, nose, mouth— everything about you that brings him butterflies. He smiles and brushes your hair back before caressing your cheek with his thumb, allowing you to sink into the palm of his hand and melt in his touch.

“And I’ll continue to do it, time and time again.” He responds. “Come here, baby.” Mingi brings your chin forward to kiss you on the lips, wasting no time to deepen the kiss. He swipes his tongue at your bottom lip before biting down and pulling back with a gentle tug. He quickly chases after your lips, tongue now dancing with yours and fighting for dominance. He lets out a soft sigh against you, moving you in between kisses so that he has you pinned to the mattress and underneath him.

God, you look good underneath him. 

Butterflies.

“So beautiful.” He mumbles against your skin, moving down to pepper kisses on the other side of your neck. You let out a small whimper when his hands trace the hem of your cropped tee, giving him full permission to remove it. He tosses it to the side, fumbling with your bralette next. You giggle when Mingi pauses and furrows his brows, not finding the hooks on the back like your usual bras. “Where’d they go?” He pouts a bit.

“I wore my lazy bra today.” You continue to laugh as you remove the bralette and toss it aside to join your shirt somewhere on the floor.

“Shouldn’t have worn one at all.” He smirks against your lips before diving in for another kiss.

“Definitely had to for the park.” 

“You wore a loose sweater anyway, pretty girl. Nobody had to know.” You chuckle at his remarks, running your fingers through his hair. He makes his way down to your collarbone, nipping and sucking on the surface before moving down to your breasts. You let out a tiny gasp when his tongue circles a hardened bud, closing in on it and pulling back with a pop. He repeats his motions on the other, taking more time when he feels you squirm underneath him. He plants a trail of kisses down your sternum— to your stomach, reaching your waist. His hands settle on either side of your cotton shorts, meeting your eyes as he tugs both your shorts and panties down and sets them aside. 

You are so beautiful.

Everything about you gives him butterflies.

“Fuck.” He lets out a breath. “How’d I get so lucky?” You shyly smile when you hear him ask while removing his shirt, settling in between your thighs in no time. His thumb is planted on your clit, easing in with a slow, circular pace. He watches as you slightly arch your back in response to his touch, biting onto your lip when he picks up his pace. He lowers his lips onto you, other hand settled against your inner thigh to keep you open for him. His tongue laps at your clit just as he inserts two fingers to prep you, spending his time just to continuously build that pressure for you. “Already so wet.”

“Mingi.” You call for his name as you tighten the grip on his hair, his fingers pumping in and out of you and keeping a steady pace. He continues his work, licking down every bit of you until he feels your breathing quicken, chest heaving up and down as your legs almost try to close him in.

“That’s it, baby.” He mumbles against you, hearing you let out a moan when you cum around his digits. “Good girl.” He praises, slowing down to give you time to gather yourself. He smiles and plants a kiss on your inner thigh before shedding off his sweats, aching to be inside of you sooner than later.

“God.” You whimper, watching him as he pumps himself a few times.

“Ready for me?” He lowers himself and whispers against your lips, hand still gripping his cock— running his tip in between your folds, nudging your clit to tease you.

“Yes. Need you.” The moment the statement leaves your lips, Mingi is inserting himself into you; the both of you let out silent moans against your lips, Mingi easing himself in until he bottoms out. He stills for a second, adjusting to the feeling— to you— relishing in every bit of the moment.

It’s the way you feel against him, the way your eyes flutter, the way you grip his biceps.

“Babe, please move.” You plead as Mingi presses his forehead against yours. He nods, beginning to work his hips at a slow pace while keeping his eyes locked onto yours. 

“Shit.” He lets out a moan. “You feel so good.” He picks up the pace, hitting you in all the right spots—

In and out.

Deeply, passionately.

You moan against him when he snaps his hips against yours, steadying the headboard with a hand as much as possible. Your nails are digging into him, and he loves every fucking bit of this.

The way you arch against him, feeling your warmth against his.

The way your eyes roll back every time he hits a spot.

The way you chase after his slips for a sloppy kiss in between the whines you let out.

You are perfectly crafted by the stars, holding the universe in your eyes, down to every inch of your body.

Mingi’s thumb starts to circle your clit just as he feels your walls clenching tighter around him. 

“Just like that.” You breathe out. “Mingi, please.” You beg and beg, hoping he’ll continue to work his way with you. You feel your stomach start to tighten, the coil within you threatening to unravel soon. Suddenly, Mingi removes his thumb from your sensitive nub— only to rest back on his ankles and let you sit on him. You carefully wrap your legs and arm around him while he kisses you, not wanting to break away from his lips. He has a hand tangled in your hair, while the other navigates down to your hip and gently encourages you to rock against him.

“Baaaby.” He hisses and breaks away from the kiss. “So fucking good. So perfect for me.” He continues to praise you as you roll against him, building enough friction to heighten the pleasure you feel. 

“Fuck— ” You whine as Mingi sucks on your neck. You tug on the ends of his hair just as you quicken your pace, feeling yourself tipping over the edge. “Gonna cum—” You moan, probably a little too loud for your liking, but it is what it is; you’re too into your man at this moment.

“Let go for me.” He says before letting out a low groan. “Let me feel you.” And in a two, three deep rolls against him, you find yourself unraveling at the same time Mingi fills you up. Mingi holds you close as you tremble against him, watching as your face contorts in pleasure, nails digging into his back as you let everything go. He caresses your back and runs his fingers down your spine, planting sweet kisses on your cheek, eyes, nose, lips.

Anything to ease you, soothe you.

“You okay?” He chuckles as he brushes your hair back and kisses you once more. 

“Mhm.” He looks at you so tenderly and lovingly that it drives you crazy, wondering how lucky you were to have him and Harin in this thing called life.

He will always give you butterflies.

“Let’s get you cleaned up?” He helps you off and leads you into the bathroom for a quick shower together. Mingi continues to shower you with love, peppering you with feathery kisses in between soaping you up and rinsing you off. Once you’ve both gotten cleaned up, you throw on some comfier clothes to prepare for the rest of the afternoon, while Mingi—

“Daddy.” The both of you hear Harin call for him. “Daddy?” She repeats with a slight whine, and you can only imagine the pout she’s sporting while waiting for her dad to come and get her.

“That definitely wasn’t an hour, babe.” He laughs a bit as he tosses on a new hoodie and matching sweats.

“Close enough.” He swings the door and finds Harin standing near her room in the hallway, waiting for Mingi to swoop her up into his arms.

“Had a good nap, princess?” You hear Mingi ask as he holds Harin in his arms and walks into your room. 

“Mhm.” She rubs away at her eyes before they land on you and she smiles. “Hi mommy.”

“Aw, sweet thing. Hi babygirl.” You walk over and kiss her on the cheek while rubbing her back. “You ready to have a little snack and head to the store with mommy and daddy?”

“Yes. May I have yogurt, please?” You giggle hearing her politely ask for her favorite snack. She gives you butterflies.

“Yogurt it is!” Mingi answers animatedly as he bounces her in his arms. “We’ll meet you downstairs?” He looks at you. “Does mommy need a snack too? I think she’s a little tired.” You playfully hit him on the arm and shake your head.

“No. I’ll be there.” 

“Okay.” He kisses your forehead and heads downstairs with Harin, making you chuckle to yourself as the two hum another song together.

They always give you butterflies.

[fallinforgyu]

hang on i’m gonna reblog a bunch of my favorite reads from the past few months

[fallinforgyu]

i deleted tumblr about 6-ish months ago, and got sad, so i downloaded it again to read cherry for the umpteenth time, and…i was NOT expecting to see new activity on your acc?? i missed you sm WHAT.

- 🍄

HIIIII BESTIE :D i’m always kinda lurkin and stalkin on here even though im not as active anymore 😚

thank you so so much for rereading cherry 🥹 i love u!!! ❤️

[fallinforgyu]

I just reread Cherry and I’m really missing baby hee :(

I hope you’re still planning on writing ! That cherry spin-off with Jake sounds so good!

thank u so much for rereading cherry bestie!! 🥹 i miss baby hee a lot too. i’m still writing when i’m feeling inspired/have the time <3 i have tons of wips that im hoping to share with you guys soon!!! 🙂‍↕️🖤

[fallinforgyu]

BUNNY WE MISSED YOU

I MISSED YOU GUYS TOO 🥹 HOW ARE YOU GUYS HOW ARE THINGS

[fallinforgyu]

bun !! it’s julia/sweetiehyuka

i saw txt in concert last weekend and I guess started thinking about all the moas ive met/been friends with over the years over the past week. you popped into my mind whilst i was watching one of my beomgyu vids and I just started to wonder how you are 🥹 hope you’re doing well 💖

OH MY GOD HI JULIA!!!! how was your txt concert?? 🥹🫶

this literally made my heart so warm </3 i still read your fics all the time!! i’m doing really good and i hope you are too!! ❤️❤️❤️

[fallinforgyu]

send ateez reaction requests friends

[fallinforgyu]

pretty bun can u PLEASE talk more about how perverted enha nd txt are !!! I'm pretty sure they would be all such a perverts pls pls pls

u are 100% correct anon bc one thing about enha + txt is that they’re both FULL of pervs. but lemme tell yall who’s been on my mind lately: PERV. SOOBIN.

specifically!!! pervy roommate soobin who always seems a little bit nervous around you. his cheeks always seem a little bit pink and his hands are always a little bit sweaty but he just can’t help it, he likes you so much :(

it gets worse the first time he hears you touching yourself through your shared wall. he hears a faint buzzing, a hum, but he assumes that it’s just you using your electric toothbrush. that’s until he hears a tiny little moan. his eyes widen, he claps a hand over his mouth, and then he slowly presses his ear to the wall. and what else is he supposed to do other than slip his dick out of his pajama pants and hope that you don’t hear him jerking off to your cute noises?

and then you notice is your panties slowly going missing. at first they disappeared somewhere between the washer and the dryer, but as time progressed, they started vanishing from your dirty clothes hamper. soobin keeps them in a drawer at his desk and he only takes them out late at night, pressing them to his nose (and occasionally letting his tongue swipe across the salty fabric) while he fucks a fleshlight.

he’s mortified when you finally confront him about it, of course, but give him even the tiniest hint that you want him and he’ll be begging for you. “y-you don’t even need to touch me, please, just let me touch you,” he’d plead, desperate just to get his hands on you. he almost comes in his pants just from squeezing your boobs, so imagine how insane he’d go when he’s finally kneeling between your legs. finally getting to taste the real thing, not just the essence left behind on your panties. he’d get a little lost in it, i think, his eyes glazed over as he drools all over you, fucking you with his long fingers while he sucks your clit <3

and if you actually let him fuck you??? omfg i think he’d be SO rough. he’d wanna absolutely ruin you. he’d shove his fingers in your mouth, making you gag on them until you’re crying while he fucks you with that huge dick. “been thinking about this for so long, pretty girl,” he’d groan in your ear, “making such a mess on my cock like i knew you would. perfect little pussy taking it so well.”