#haechan thts

[handlemehyuck]

newlyweds 18+

imagine waking up the first morning of your honeymoon after traveling the night of your wedding - a short flight to paradise, changing in the backseat of an SUV in route to the airport, cotton and kisses, euphoria exchanged—euphoria swelling with every touch. the wedding night afterglow lingers in the air as memories fill your mind with every flutter of your eyelids. imagine donghyuck, who’s already been awake making breakfast, perched beside you, fingertips following the shape of your face from your temple to the curve of your jaw. nipping at the pad of his finger as it meets the plush of your lips, and his laughter is what finally opens your eyes. imagine the softness nestled deeply in his expression. the undeniable peace and joy and utter excitement because he’s looking down at his wife. for the very first morning in his life, donghyuck has a wife. and for the very first morning in your life, you have a husband. and you giggle, suddenly consumed by the memories of your paths colliding all those years ago, how a crush developed into friendship. when feelings one might describe as love started keeping you up at night, worried that he wouldn’t feel the same way. you’ve come so far, so you wrap your arms around his neck, finding soft strands of honey and needing him closer, telling him so with a look he knows so well, a look that aided his like becoming love. his torso grazes yours, hands expertly following the curves of your body, slowly, passionately, before cradling your face. his lips find your own in a smile that yours mirror. imagine the ‘thank you’ that leaves you mouth in between kisses. imagine the emotion in his eyes when donghyuck pulls away just far enough to look at you but close enough to pinpoint every note in your perfume. and your expression is caught by sunlight. you sparkle, so softly, bite your lip and nod. ‘thank you for everything - for loving me, choosing me, making everywhere we go feel like home.’ imagine the love you make, breakfast forgotten, as he takes his time removing every piece of silky lace on your skin, kissing as he goes, as if there are still places left to discover. he’ll spend the rest of his life finding new ways to caress your skin, to worship your glow, to untangle and unravel, intertwine and collide again and again.

[handlemehyuck]

sleepy conversations with haechan 💭

everything that comes out at night

everything that’s easy to say when the moon is bright and beautiful through your bedroom window

your eyes closed, head turned to face him. the coolness of your pillow against your cheek. the comfort of knowing what you’d find if you held out your hand, if your fingers danced with desire to feel

his thumb tracing lines and shapes, listening sounds then questions to keep you talking, to encourage your mellow melody, the unraveling thoughts

the trust.

the promises.

the honesty.

the sweet pockets of laughter.

the space that’s offered.

the room for exhales, for stutters, for dissecting something the sun doesn’t know.

the moment haechan lets go. his details that soften your heart. the words that pull you in, and now you’re against him, warm and relaxed, draped before dreams. draped so the dreams are only sweet

[handlemehyuck]

SINGLE DAD HAECHAN.

FUCK.

stressed single dad haechan.

stressed single dad haechan who’s your neighbor.

stressed single dad haechan who barely has time to get groceries.

stressed single dad haechan who can put his hair in a ponytail.

stressed single dad haechan who cries on his balcony while clutching the baby monitor.

stressed single dad haechan who can’t remember the last time he held someone who wasn’t his child.

stressed single dad haechan who runs into you on the elevator, and you can immediately tell he’s embarrassed and emotional, eyes red.

stressed single dad haechan who tries to take up the least amount of space he can but is fighting the desire to get closer to you, lean on you, breathe in your perfume, ask you to hum a little louder.

stressed single dad haechan who curses as he leaves, dropping packages and baby formula in the hallway, holding the back of his daughter’s head as he bends down.

single dad haechan who gets chills when you touch his waist, offering to help him in whatever way he needs.

single dad haechan who invites you into his apartment that he’s more than embarrassed by. boxes. so many fucking baby product boxes. clothes. little pink and yellow baby clothes everywhere, some clean, some dirty, some worthy of being burned. beer. just one bottle of beer that he gave into drinking a couple nights before. pamphlets from the hospital. notebook paper covered in scribbles during late night phone calls with his mother. a box of tissues that used to be helpful for an entirely different reason. close to zero signs of food. he needs to fucking eat something.

single dad haechan who apologies for the mess his vulnerability and asks you kindly to put everything on the table.

single dad haechan who mixes formula with his daughter strapped to his chest, and she’s so beautiful. you tell him so. all he does is smile and kiss the top of her head.

single dad haechan who asks you to wait while he finishes feeding her before putting her down and returns with his fingers attempting to knead one of many shoulder knots.

single dad haechan who just looks at you in his kitchen, cleaning things up and getting started on dinner.

single dad haechan who’s hit by a rush of memories, remembering all the months he tried pursuing you, but it never became anything. you have always been too good for him, especially now. he’s a mess. he needs a haircut. he’s been wearing the same shirt for three days. fuck, does he reek?

single dad haechan who asks if he can help and all you do is laugh before nodding to the living room. “take a breather, daddy.”

single dad haechan who rests his forehead against the closest cabinet door, exhaling deeply and dramatically. “please don’t call me that.”

single dad haechan who feels the air get knocked out of him when you turn away from the cutting board and walk closer, take his hand in yours. you search his eyes for something familiar, for that spark you fell in love with, for the first sign of his incoming teasing, for the warmth that calmed the rushing current in your mind so many more times than he could possibly know. “you’re doing amazing, donghyuck.”

single dad haechan whose lips part, and he has to look away, already shaking his head before he can fight the urge to do so. your touch finds his chin, finds his jaw and the apple of his cheek, pulling his gaze back to your face and honest eyes.

single dad haechan who’s already heard that from his friends, form his parents, from doctors and nurses, but hearing it from you? it might actually be true.

[handlemehyuck]

sweet dream - l.dh

short and sweet moment with bf hyuck

“the sun looks pretty on your face, coming through the window.”

you giggle, running your fingers through his hair again. you couldn’t count how many times they’ve been enveloped by his soft strands as he lays beside you, head on your stomach, watching your face when his eyes aren’t closed. “you’re sleepy,” you sing, lengthening the world playfully.

“doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful. spring looks good on you.” he turns his head to kiss the cotton of your shirt, cotton that’s keeping his lips from reaching the soft skin beneath it. donghyuck squeezes you tighter, exhaling deeply and smiling as the air leaves his lungs.

“what is it now? is some sweet dream tempting you?”

“this is my sweet dream. missed you so much. too hard to be away from you.” hyuck opens his eyes again, just barely, tilting his head back so he can see you through their droopiness. you can’t help but coo and lean forward to kiss his forehead.

“it goes both ways, i promise you.”

your boyfriend hums and sits up, catching you off guard as his cozy warmth gains distance from your figure. “let me hold you. stay there for a second.” donghyuck squeezes you thigh before turning his attention to your queen-sized bed.

adoration consumes all of your features as you watch him fluff pillows, rearrange your favorite plushies, and straighten the blanket before scooting down the bed and settling into a comfortable position. his hair fans the pillow—it’s getting perfectly long again. “ok, sweetheart. i’m ready for you.”

you can’t help but squeal when you attach yourself to donghyuck, moaning the moment your face makes contact with his chest. his perfume is so sweet with the lightest notes of something rich and musky—the combination is lovely. he laughs, “you’re adorable,” before draping his leg over your torso as if you need to be trapped to stay.

“comfy?” you wonder, nuzzling your nose against his neck, knowing there’s a mole your touch is finding.

“mmm, you?”

“the most comfy.” he massages your scalp, diving into a silly story from tour that he meant to tell you over breakfast before a call from work rudely interrupted. your sweet boy falls asleep halfway through the retelling, and you’re not far behind.

[handlemehyuck]

no bc when he wears a watch i melt… i need him to push my head while im giving him head w that watch on

THE WATCH STAYS ON DURING SEX.

SCREAM

fuck you know what i could and have spent hours thinking about?? getting fingered with his rings on. playing with your pussy with his rings on. feeling their coolness against your thighs when he takes off your pants and underwear. he wants you to feel them because goosebumps erupt across your skin as soon as you do, and he finds the view quite beautiful, so fascinating and sexy—the evidence of his effect on you.

haechan enjoys working you up when he’s not around. imagine the pictures he’d send you of his hands. where his hands are. what one is wrapped around. he has pictures with his hand around your neck. the watch he wore is a special reminder—makes him smirk, makes him think of you and he loves to because he’s obsessed with you, with the sight you make together, with your soft and hard collisions, with your expression when he bottoms out, when you look up at him with his cock inside your mouth.

imagine one of his rings around a thin chain that he gifts you before a new tour starts. imagine the sex you have when he gets back. his tongue tracing the sterling silver that rests at the base of your neck, over your collarbones, down your chest, stops between your breasts. imagine the reminders he haunts you with—blesses you with, depends on how much you can take.

[handlemehyuck]

hihiii sweet girl, i hope u r doing good!

currently thinking abt bf!hyuck going to every recital ballerina!reader has, and taking her to practice and watching her anytime he gets a chance to.

am i/was a ballerina, yes, when i was 3 and quit the same day 💔 but i love this concept sm

-jumbotron anon

hello hello! thank you! uno reverse <3 we have something in common, jumbotron anon, i too was a ballerina. i might've lasted longer than a day though lol >.<

hyuck dating a ballerina 😭😭😭 this got a little suggestive... i couldn't help myself

now i’m thinking about the nights you take a bath with epsom salt, tired muscles begging for the soothing heat. if donghyuck’s home, he’ll join you in the bathroom, standing on his knees to give you a kiss before settling down onto the soft rug with his right hand in the bathtub. his fingers disappear into the suds, moving them around playfully as he listens to shared moments from your day before finding your quad and kneading the muscle. he watches you with so much love in his eyes. he’ll kiss your forehead, smooth down your brow when the hairs look a little disarrayed, and tell you how amazing you are. how much you inspire him. how much pride is held in his heart for you, but my god how he worries. he’s never told you this, but he’s terrified of receiving a text or call about an injury. every time you call him his heart beats faster until he hears your voice, until he’s sure there’s no cry or break in your tone. it keeps him up at night sometimes bc he knows what that feels like. he knows how mentally challenging a recovery can be, but he also knows that he’d be by your side if it ever happens.

on a happier note, he loves your dance clothes—what you wear to practice. he loves watching you fix your hair in the morning, sitting crisscross on the living room carpet in front of a mirror. you always listen to studio ghibli songs (a detail he finds so endearing and cute), humming, and flexing your toes or lifting your leg into a deep stretch as you go through your little routine. you’ll eat breakfast together around the coffee table every morning you can. you’ll show him videos friends took during practice and melt over his understanding—he’s the first man you’ve ever been with who has an understanding of the technique, immediately catching the intricate movements that are so impressive and reflect your skill and years of hard work. he minimizes how hard you are on yourself bc his eyes sparkle so earnestly. he walks with you inside when he drops you off for the final dress rehearsal, with your duffel bag over his shoulder and encouraging words flowing effortlessly from his sweet mouth. he cries in the audience during your recitals, taking pictures and videos too, or bringing jaemin along to handle his camera so he doesn’t miss a thing with his own eyes. he tries not to cry when he greets you after them. he’s so present. he’s incredible. he’s a heartwarming supporter. you couldn’t have anyone better

and omg :( that meal afterward. you have to get him to be quiet before he announces your achievement to the entire restaurant. imagine him with his elbows on the table, face propped up in the palm of his hands. the warm lighting catches his eyes, making them glow as he watches you with a consuming adoration as you talk about the energy going on backstage, how proud you are of your company. tears fill your eyes when you think back on the months of preparation and how steadfast donghyuck has been throughout all of it. you stand, and his eyes widen, prepared to reach for you so you’ll stay, but instead, you slide into the booth beside him. you're leaning in for a kiss when he’s ushering you out of the booth altogether, so you can slide in first and he can sit on the outside.

“i’m very tempted to make out with you… would our waiter mind?” he looks so good, smells so good, loves you so good. donghyuck deserves kisses.

“probably… should that stop us?” the smallest smile curves his lips, and you nearly whimper over the hotness he's currently radiating. he must do it on purpose, knowing how to rile you up.

sighing, you rest your head against his shoulder and donghyuck chuckles lowly. “can i have you for dessert?”

your boyfriend’s entire being stills like he’s holding his breath, and you sit up to look at him. you brush his hair away from his forehead, clearing the view of his pretty eyes before he shakes his head, clicking his tongue at you. “how am i supposed to enjoy this dinner? are you sure tonight’s good? aren’t your muscles sore?”

you appreciate his consideration, knowing he’s probably right. plus, you’ve been craving pistachio and butter pecan ice cream from the shop around the corner from your apartment. “after dinner, ice cream, but this weekend… everything else. deal?”

he entraps you in kiss that sets off fireworks in your heart and head. he smiles against your mouth before pulling away, booping your nose with his own. “deal.” he gives your leg a little squeeze, sealing his word with a promise just as your waiter returns.

[handlemehyuck]

my bestie shared a post on her insta story about the intimacy of sharing a cigarette with someone, and i immediately thought of haechan. imagine loving him so much that you try to hate him, try to cling onto any of his bad habits as reasons not to stay. but you’ve grown used to the smell. you like how it’s always there when he hugs you, in the background, just beneath his perfume. you find the lighter’s fire illuminating his face to be something beautiful. cheekbones on full display when he inhales, eyelids fluttering for a moment before the exhale. he always lifts his chin. you always notice how his shoulders relax like the smoke in his lungs gives him permission to settle, like he can’t give it to himself. he knows that in your eyes, this is his worst habit, but he’s also noticed your growing proximity. you used to stay inside when he smoked—inside the apartment, inside the restaurant, inside the car. you’ve started to come outside—sit on the front porch, pace the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, rest your body against the passenger door beside him. and then, you kissed him, in the middle of his exhale, tasted the cigarette smoke on your tongue and felt your eyebrows furrow, conflicted throughout every crevice of your mind. when you stepped back, he looked at you with wide eyes, with concern in his gaze. he dropped the bud and crushed it beneath the toe of his boot. he held your face so delicately in the palm of his hand, fingers cold against your cheek, thumb caressing your bottom lip. “why did you do that?” you closed your eyes and leaned into his palm, a cough escaping the slim parting between your lips. he feels the heat of your breath. “i was curious,” and i love you.

[handlemehyuck]

toxic(?) situationship haechan who’s so in love with you that it’s forcing him to face his suppressed desires to be known and seen and cared about for so much more than a night of pleasure, but he doesn’t think he deserves it. he thinks you’re too good for him. too pure. too sparkly. with all of your soft edges and wide open curiosity. curiosity for life but for him too. you want to know him. you ask questions. you stay the night and perch yourself on his counter while he makes breakfast, catch him with your legs and drag him your way to worship. you hold his hands and fill his bedroom with praises. you leave behind an afterglow that’s so strong, nearly too much for him to handle, but it’s steadfast. it coats his body. it warms his heart. it melts away his doubts and fears. it kisses his mouth and calms his breath. it’s undeniable and unavoidable and chips away all the pain until he can finally accept this gift of love you have for him—keep for him until he’s ready to accept it.