In your head you could see him tilt his head cutely as the sound of a soft, whisper like voice tickled your ear. You were lying down on the prince-like bed, head turned towards the vase with fresh flowers Ray brought for you.
"...I was waiting for your call," you confessed, your hands unconsciously fidgeting with the comforter.
A gentle gasp escaped the white haired boy, you swore you could hear their smile. Only making you want to see what else would make them happy, but, that would be for another time.
" It seems our thoughts are aligned then," He chimes, a hint of pink dusted his cheeks. Since your arrival he feels he's gone under a kind of sickness, but not one out of pain?
If anything, his heart aches to seek this feeling of warmth more. As if one embrace would be enough to calm the fluttering butterflies that swarmed his stomach.
A content hum escaped you, snuggling into your pillow more.
There was a silence between you two but it never felt uncomfortable or dull. If anything, it was a peaceful silence, similar to the time you two visit the garden.
As the faint sounds of clicks against the keyboard, your eyes began to drift to darkness.
To the sound of your steady breaths, Ray paused his work for a moment,
ᝰ.ᐟ WARNINGS : Extremely Dubious consent, second hand embarrassment; Mentions of Ray, Jealousy, Toxic Possessiveness, Saeran is a warning all on his own. Mentions and usage of toys, fingering, Choking, aggressive biting. Rough, just rough man, Fem!Reader, 3K words.
You don’t know how you got yourself into this mess, caged against a wall by a man that looked twelve seconds from biting your head off. Teal eyes wide, manic as they fluttered about every twitch of your expression, jaw wound so tight and teeth painfully grinding. He was more akin to a beast than a man, ravenous and deadly. Her bedroom was a mess, ransacked as if a tornado had materialized right in the center. Books torn open, shredded pages strewn about and crumpled below his feet, stained with steps caked in old mud that still lingered on his black dress shoes.
“You’re disgusting,” Saeran sneered, messy bleached white hair curtaining his crazed gaze. “Nasty thing, walkin’ round ‘n acting like some pious savior. Did you think I was as naive as him?” His hand shifted, lithe fingers bruisingly curling around your arm, pulling you to him with a hiss. You managed a quiet wince, reminding yourself to be resilient. This wasn’t Ray, but still a part of him- a violently sadistic part of the blushy cheeked flower prince that swooned you into Mint Eye, that you were certain was tucked deep somewhere within the armor of thorns.
Yet you couldn’t help the concern that seeped into your veins, hairs standing at the nape of your neck anxiously; Saeran may have always seemed hot-tempered, hell even erratic when at a loss of what to do; But this? This was a blazing heat, a rage simmered between the spaces of his squared shoulders, threatening to blow.
You fumble when he suddenly pulls you along, dragging you over the shattered remains of your glass coffee table. Praying that no shards would slip through the leather of your flat shoes, the last thing you needed was to develop some rare infection hidden so deep in the mountains. Your mind still so focused on caution that you hadn’t even realized he suddenly stopped, kneeling to pull something from under your bed, ignoring how you nearly fell forward thanks to his unrelenting grip. Expecting anything, but what he pulled from the shadowy recesses below your bed.
As he stands, he seems all the more incensed— yet the tips of his ears burned a ruddy tone. All at once, something is roughly shoved forward, jabbing your chest in a mocking fashion, and his face twists to something dangerous.
Silicone, cold and maroon. Curved and a bit too long, nails digging into ridges that you hadn't quite yet reached. This fucker really just found your dildo.
Indignant, your face flushes, desperately clamoring to take the embarrassingly phallic object in his hold. It was one thing to have it be found, but so horrifically swung around with little regard for any modesty. He twists his grip, throwing her to the bed with a grimace.
“How did you—?” You gapped, knowing your face would be ghastly blanched if it weren't for how mortifying this was. You flounder within the confines of movement you’re usually allowed. “That is private; personal!”
He clicks his tongue, tossing the item aside to the bed. He doesn't hesitate when he steps forward, suddenly focusing his attention fully on you. “Who said you can run your mouth, huh? Huh?” he clicks his tongue, cupping your face with the grace of a starved tiger. His nails dig dull crescents into the apples of your cheeks, feeling the ache of your own teeth against the inside of your cheek. His eyes snap wide, leaning forward till his breath puffs out hotly against your face.
“Privacy,” he spat, “you don't get that. You're my property, my responsibility. Mine. Can you get that through your fucking lack of brain?”
A retort sits heavy on your tongue, your jaw constricts, fingers latching onto his wrists but never digging. Something about how everyone's entitled to privacy, how Ray gave you time and space. Then he continued to rant, lost in his own self-made offense.
“I thought the first time you were just being desperate, some needy bitch humping her own pillow.” Saeran can't help the chuckle that escapes him, still bewildered.
“Then you did it again. Right at nine thirty. Louder— you wanted me to see?” He grits his teeth, “Yeah, yeah. Of course you did.”
What?
The pieces click in place— sure, you knew he was monitoring you through your phone; watching your each and every action with the RFA, guards posted at your door. Yet, the last thing that you wanted to believe was that he was watching you like some pervert in the dead of the night. “You're watching me—?!” Your words come out muffled, clipped beneath the press of his palm, panic igniting within your veins.
Saeran blinked, lips pressing tightly into a thin line. His head tilts, leaning forward. “Don't act so stupid.” His knee shifts, looming beside her hip. Your ears burn, attempting to lean back to create some distance, leaning and leaaaaning just so that your arms buckle and back meets the duvet below.
“You knew.”
You hated him, you were sure of it. You despised Saeran, this carnivorous creature of violence— it had to be hatred that made your mind race, your heart drumming in your veins. Hatred that blinds your goodwill and intentions, that blurs the thought of that rosey cheeked hopeless romantic that you still longed for. But his scent is everywhere, his presence is suffocating and demanding— it wasn't your fault, that Saeran was all consuming.
And that he was right.
Part of you had a suspicion, an inkling of a thought lingering between messages. Sometimes Ray seemed to know you better than he knew himself, suddenly summoning himself to your doorway with just the thing to all your sorrows. Willed with pain? Here's your medicine! Craving a hyper specific treat? The chefs are already on it for dinner time. Lonely? His presence was at your disposal. You'd dismissed it as him simply being far too observant, connected to your needs. But the truth was so obvious, you didn't dare to voice the question.
“Were you thinking of him?” Saeran questions, eerily quiet. He cages over you, white pink-tipped hair framing his face as he looks. He was sure he hated you too, Saeran wasn't made to admire— no, he was made to sneer, to snap his teeth at anything that dared challenge his sense of self. And you were no different. A pathetic whimpering dog, weakly always looking at him with those eyes. Those eyes that haunted his dreams, that questioned his reality. He withdrew his hand, shifting it rather to cup her cheek, twitching.
“What?” A shaky whisper, only acknowledged at first with a flicker of his gaze. His brows furrow, finger ghosting over the corner of your lip. Lips that Ray touched, kissed. Why would you kiss something as weak as him?
“Did you think of him,” he repeats, throat tight. Challenging. “Did you fuck that plastic thing in your messy cunt praying he'd see? That he'd finally grow some balls and take you in its place?”
Shocked, you squawked, hand shoving against his chest. “Don’t say things like that. Of course not!” You gasp, feeling his hand trail lower, dancing along the curves of your throat. “I'd never… I wouldn't…”
His gaze burns into you, twinkling with something unknown. It's clear, he doesn't believe any of your attempts to feign ignorance. His lips quirk, almost sneering. “...Me?”
Your lips part to dispute, to argue that you’d never think of him like that. But something about his face, awaiting— hitched breath almost expectant for her answer. It broke the fragile mask you wore. “...Yes, Saeran. I.. thought of you.”
His eyes widened for a fraction, face blanking above her. Lips parting and shutting as if at an entire loss for words. He almost looked like Ray, shattered by a simple sign of want. Yet, just as quickly as it manifested; pale features twisted, darkening into something starved.
You were barely given a second to react with anything other than a surprised squeak before his face tucked into your neck, hand roughly grasping the collar of your dress. It wasn't romantic nor a gentle affection born from love. It was ravenous, like a man finally offered his last meal as he faces the gallows. Saeran consumes, messily lapping his tongue against your throat. His teeth snap, sinking into flesh in desperation to leave something of him behind with you. No kisses follow, only ghosting your collarbones as he dips lower, suckling marks along the way..
“Off,” he gruffly commands, making no room for patience as he pulls, prying the threads apart with his hand and teeth. He ignored your indignant cry of ‘Hey!’, wasting no time in diving for the kill. He bit at the curve of your breast, groaning as tension eased from his jaw. You whimper, face dipping into a ruddy hue as your fingers traversed the length of his suit, from lapels to hem, skimming past the collar of his button up before settling on those bleached strands messily sitting at his scalp.
“Saeran,” you creen, squirming. Wincing at a particularly harsh bite; he groans, shoulders slacking as his tongue flicks out, circling the perking bud in the center, hand toying with the opposing nub. You murmur his name again, this time gasping. He watches every reaction, allowing shudders to crawl up his spine with every soft cry of his name.
His hand trailed downward, cupping the sticky fabric of your clothed cunt. Saeran laughs, lips splitting into a sadistic grin that makes your heart drop. “Fer me?” He snickers, at first questioning— before quickly cutting his own train of mind off. “Soaking yourself like a bitch in heat. How long w’re you prayin’ fer me?”
His words slur, mind buzzing with the heat, spit slicked at the corners of his lips. Messy and unrestrained. “Actin’ all stern, a brat wanting’ ta be put in her place. All while dripping.” You whined, stiffly shaking your head in protest.
Saeran scoffed, “No?” His tone dripped with malice, mocking as he dragged down your soaked panties down her thighs. He didn't ask, no. That's not who Saeran was. He was a taker through and through, a push first and gauge the results within the soreness. “She says otherwise.”
He spits out, sitting up straight. He takes in the sight of you, clothes tattered and callously ripped; skin flushed and quivering below his touch. He throws your legs over his thighs on either side, spreading you out with a grin. He relishes the view, enjoying how your gaze skittishly avoids his own. Embarrassment boils in your blood, vulnerability sitting below skin as you realize, incredulously, that his suit remained crisp— crinkling at the waistline, along with the clear sign of his arousal straining against charcoal toned slacks.
His pointer drags along your puffy folds, slow and tantalizing as he gauges each reaction. Gaze twinkling when your head falls back, eyes snapping shut to avoid locking with burning teal irises.
“See?” He cooes, mocking. “She knows what she wants. She's practically drooling for me, doll.” Another draaaag of his fingers, gathering your slick messily between digits. Then, without warning, he plunged them into your entrance. Fingers curling, breath catching in his throat, his fingers moving iin and ouut as if you were something to study, mimicking the very motions you made in the dead of night— when you thought nobody was looking.
Damn bastard, either he was a fast learner or he'd watched you finger fuck yourself enough times to memorize every motion your hand made. Your hands latch onto his arms, nails digging deep into his suit jacket. “Don't talk like that…!” his brows furrowed, plunging deeper— even adding another finger into the roster. He continued the rhythmic erratic pace of his hand, nearly slipping out a shaky whimper at the increasing sounds of your shuddering moans.
He was sure he was losing himself. He wondered if you tasted sweet, if the flavors would mask the poison that was the Elixir. If he could crawl into the shadows of your bedroom whenever he was forced to swallow the bitter concoction to lap between your legs. Praying that the taste would become his new balm—
He pauses, suddenly going still. His expression shifted to conflict. You really were a devil, a seductress wrapped in heavenly silks. You were there to steer him into a path of the damned, of the weak. Ready to soften up his insides and drink them whole.
No, he was stronger than that, better than that. Better than Ray
He withdraws his hand, ignoring your whine. How you breathily questioned him, frustration building within you to have the sudden stimulation stripped away. You ask once, but he just stares at the rise and fall of your stomach. Then you ask again, louder. Only then does he snap back, his clean hand lurching forward— wrapping around your throat. It doesn't dig, the grip remains tight—but not suffocating. He squeezes once, a clear warning as he wipes his soaked fingers on the surface of his slacks. Saeran didn't care if they stained, he'd threaten any follower that dared to question him.
Wordless, he reaches out— plucking the item that started this whole mess. He grimaces, turning the toy to study it. Curiosity twinkling in his vision as he takes in every faux ridge, even the two buttons sitting pretty at the base. You shakily exhale, attempting to draw back his gaze with another call of his name. Which only makes him squeeze at her throat again. “Sae…ran?”
“What?” He scoffs, lips curling up, but it's far darker. “You thought you were gonna have it easy? You ain't calling the shots.”
Saeran slots his thighs, shifting them juuuust right to prop you into his lap. Bulge pressing to your dripping heat, he rolls his hips once— hissing below his breath. He taps the silicone surface of your toy, he fights back the dryness in his throat. Then prods it right to your aching hole, once again, ignoring the shy squeak of embarrassment. He sinks the toy past its faux mushroom tip— eyes narrowing into slit like focus he pushes it deeper and deeper. You gasp, trying to knock your knees together to shut your legs which is made infinitely times more impossible with his body slotted between them.
“Wait, wait wait—” you heave, blinking as your eyes moisten, the stretch as painful as it is delicious. “I can't take more— s’nough! I can't—”
“Not asking.” His jaw ticks, he notes that despite your words, you practically suck the toy in. Desperate for more. “Y’er gonna take it. Gonna ruin this filthy pussy, mkay? Gonna ruin it so whenever ya’ play it, you'll just think ‘bout me.”
He continues, sinking inch after inch into you. It's slow, but it's relentless. Watching as your thighs quiver, as your eyes roll and spittle accumulates on your tongue. His breath grew heavier, despite his desperate attempt to remain unaffected. “Thats it,” he breathes, “Thaaats it. See? She's practically begging for
more.”
You're the worst. The thought lingers in your gaze, something he catches with ease.
He chuckles— only when he finally thinks he's reached the limit does he press his thumb to a button. The toy whirs to life, vibrating within your pulsating walls, pressing to that gummy spot that made you see stars. He relishes the way you practically shriek, head thrown back as your eyes flutter. Hair strewn about like a filthy halo. “There she is,”
You moan unabashedly, mind turned to mush as his grip around your throat only tightens, constricting your air intake. The bleach haired man leans down, lips messily pressing against your own in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth. Gnashing and ravenous to taste, to devour. He thrusts the toy just as rapidly, withdrawing it from its very tip to then slam it back as deep as it could go, his eyes sparkle— staring in amazement as you pathetically cry out weak ‘s’too much!’ and ‘it hurts’ between kisses! His thumb presses into your jugular, watching your eyes bulge and your lips part in desperation to intake air. Brows upturning, he ignores the way his own hips buck in occasion to match your own rocking. He had a point to prove.
His tongue presses to the roof of her mouth, before he parts. Licking his swollen lips as he quickens his movements, lulling your gaze as your mind practically becomes mush. Satisfied, he pries off his grip on your throat, instead meeting his other below, circling at your clit with calculated motions. Roughly pressing the swollen nub with a hushed command that barely registered in your melted mind.
All at once, the coil that built within your belly had snapped, back arching as your toes curled. He doesn't stop his motions, pupils practically blown out to a pure inky darkness as he watches you unravel. He commits the shattering of your watery expression to memory, the messiness of your hair, even down to the sweat-slicked glaze of your flushed skin littered in bites. He nips at the bare of your knee, reminding himself to expand the distance of his marks. He wants to kiss at the stretch of your legs, to run his tongue over the curve of your spine. Wholy, fully his.
The thought sickens him, so, before you can come down from your high fully. He withdraws, slipping out of your bedroom with the swiftness of a man horrified. He misses the bleary confusion in your gaze, or the way that once the tremors in your limbs ease, you sleepily try to call out his name. Wanting him, needing him.
No, Saeran wasn't made for love. For the comfort of a warm bed and the weakness that came with your touch. So, despite the stickiness between his legs, the wet patch he refuses to acknowledge. He staggers to his room, cursing your name the whole way through. He hates you, he hates you and he needs you.
What a shame. He clearly needed to up his dose tomorrow, double.
“That sounds reasonable… there’s not much left anyway.” You mumble, tilting your head to the side as you think.
“I don’t know about you angel, but a day where we spent on the couch watching movies sounds very appealing.” Saeran smiles and reaches out to hold your hand with his free one. Both rakes are still held tightly in the other.
You let him lead you to lean against him, letting out a defeated strangled sigh -a sound that sounded very akin to a dying cat- as the image of doing nothing but cuddling floods your mind. Yesterday, Saeran did the laundry so you know that your favorite sweatshirt and comfy pants are there just calling your name. There also are a few movies that you had been meaning to show him and now would be the perfect time to do so.
It also looks like it’s going to rain later today, the clouds are that thick dark gray and the air smells heavier. Short but strong gusts of wind have been blowing through the yard as you both have been standing. Those kinds of winds that throw your hair in your eyes or move you around if you aren’t braced for them. When you looked out the window this morning it looked like it was going to be a nice day from start to finish. Even when breakfast was being made, the sun was peeking out over the horizon. You suppose you lost even more time when you were kissing Saeran in the kitchen. His lips always derail your mind and you lose track of time, but who was going to argue about you kissing your husband? No one that’s who.
Still, you knew the moment that Saeran mentioned his wants for the day was the moment that your fate was sealed. Besides… cuddles on the couch means kisses and possibly even a nap. Saeran was the only person you could nap with and not feel like you’ve died when you inevitably wake up, you also are able to sleep when it’s time for bed which has never happened before. You blame it on how safe his arms feel and how calming the rise and fall of his chest are. Instant KO. Everytime.
“Well if we want to beat the rain we should start now.” You grumble but make no moves towards the yard.
“My love, if you keep pouting I’ll have no choice but to kiss you.” Saeran chuckles, bringing his hand up to touch your protruding lip. In response to this, you exaggerate your pout and bat your eyes at him expectantly.
You feel his reaction before you see it. His chest hitches and shoulders shake before he snorts and starts laughing. His eyes are creased as he watches you, still laughing. It takes a couple breaths for him to settle back down, a few chuckles instead of full chested laughter. He hums and leans down to give you what you were waiting for.
You can feel his smile as he presses his lips against yours. You hum happily, the rest of the stress melting away from your mind and your shoulders relax. Parting slowly to breathe, he chases after your lips. Pressing soft kisses against your lips, he finally lets you lean back and chuckles when he sees how pink your cheeks are.
“Okay, okay. If we keep going nothing is going to get done. You’re dangerous.” You say, lightly pushing him away and grabbing a rake from his hand, flustered.
Saeran smiles as he sighs fondly and follows after you quickly.
You bite your lip as you carefully put the mug down. The drink inside the cup sloshes as you place it on the saucer. Inside, there lies a design of a lily of the valley, made of foam.
You look up at the sparkling mint eyes locked on you, his smile lightening up his whole face. You can't hide your smile either, feeling your cheeks and ears heat up. You reach out your hand in excitement, meeting him in the middle and squeezing it. A giddy laugh leaves you as you look back at your creation. You've been trying for days to get the technique and texture right. You would sit outside with Saeran, listening to him talk while also studying the flower from each side to see how you could pour the foam the way you wanted to.
There were so many failed attempts. At first, you made the stem only to realize that when you would make the flowers, it would sink the stem. After that, you had too much espresso meaning you had no room to make the flower. You had added too much air into one batch, making the foam too thick and not usable. You would get too excited and move too fast, get too nervous and move too slow, it was a long and hard process. Throughout all this though, Saeran was by your side. Every huff that left your lips was met with a kiss and a small encouragement. He never let you get too upset about not getting it right either, he would ask you to explain how you knew when the milk was steamed enough, why you would change the position of the pitcher, why you would tap the pitcher against the counter, as if he didn't already ask you a day ago.
And now, he looks just as excited as you, his eyes filled with love and pride for you. That's how it is with you two, his accomplishments felt like yours and yours felt like his. You lightly shake his hand, feeling the happy energy run up and down through your body.
"Ahh, thank you! I didn't think I'd be able to do it." You chuckle, shaking your head looking back at the counter.
"I knew you could do it, my angel. You can do anything you put your mind to. I'm so proud of you." His laugh rings through your ears. You scrunch your nose and look away, the praise making you smile and want to hide.
He tuts and gently tugs on your hands, wanting your attention. You glance a peak of him and wish you didn't. He has a knowing smile on his lips, looking at you with an eyebrow raised and you can tell that he is about to compliment you again, just to see how flustered you can get.
"Okay okay lovey, before we get all excited, let me try again to see if I really do get it or I need to practice some more." You say quickly, setting the cup aside so you can sip it later. He snorts and rolls his eyes teasingly, letting you pull him back to the espresso machine.
"Angel, if I know anything about you- and I think I can say confidently that I know you quite well- once you get it right the first time, it gets ingrained in your brain." He smiles, looking over your shoulder as you pull a shot.
You hum under your breath, knowing that he has a point. Because of all the art you've done growing up, you already had a subconscious advantage. Pouring latte art wasn't hard after you spent years drawing and painting the same design over and over. Your hands are steady because of the sewing you did growing up and you know how to eyeball when the cup is getting too full because of the baking you and your dad did. Even when you were being trained to make latte art, your manager always said that she's never seen anyone pick it up as fast as you did.
After the shot is pulled, you take a deep breath before steaming the milk. You watch the swirl carefully as you add in small sips of air. You shut off the steam wand and tap the pitcher on the counter, disrupting the bubbles and bringing the foam to the top. You feel Saeran's presence behind you, a silent support. You pick up the cup and hold it at an angle before pouring the milk into the cup. You make the base layer of foam, before dropping down to the top of the cup and making the first flower, the foam is silky but still firm; success. You make each of the flowers before moving to the stem, pulling through the flower and completing with just enough milk.
More excitement and pride flows through you. You got it. You aren't going to forget how to do this any time soon. You cheer happily, putting the mug down not as carefully and clapping.
"I did it! I really, really did it!" You couldn't stay still, snapping your fingers and flapping your hands. "Now we can focus on other treats! I really wanted to start learning about the lavender roll cake."
"I'd be happy to help you with that, my love. After you take a break and celebrate what you've just learned. Make sure you take a picture to put in the messenger, I'm sure everyone would love to see what you've done." Saeran looks over at the two completed drinks. He knew that learning how to do this was important to you because it's a combination of both of your guys favorite things. He remembers you explaining how you learned latte art, and how most of it are flowers; tulips, roses, rosettas, things like that.
When he asked if you could make any flower, you froze and said that with practice you could, then you were taking every opportunity to try different styles and different flowers, slowly learning to make every flower in his garden. With this perfected drink, you have now mastered every flower in the garden that you felt you could replicate. He is shaken out of his thoughts as his phone vibrates, no doubt Saeyoung, Yoosung and Zen blowing up the group chat congratulating you. Your laugh warming his heart as he goes to join you in the living room
The Day He Realized He Wanted to Marry You (Unknown)
Marriage was a distant thought to Saeran. He never really considered it. With everything that’s happened, really, it’s the last thing he could even begin thinking of. That was fine, you never pushed him to jump into anything he wasn’t ready for.
He could remember the day he changed his mind though, or at least, felt a shift in his heart.
At the time, some days were better than others. And when they weren’t… they really weren’t.
His brother had to be out of town for an entire week, and so, the two of you figured to stay at your place for a few days.
He had a terrible time falling asleep. Too many thoughts in his head. Thoughts such as, if you wake up one day and decided you didn’t want to bear his burden with him, well, he wouldn’t blame you. Thoughts such as, the longer he spends with you, the more he’d ruin you. Thoughts such as, he wanted to be okay. Just for a day. To be okay so you wouldn’t have a hard time.
A nightmare came for him that night. Nothing gruesome. Or perhaps it was. He couldn’t remember anymore. All he knew was that he grasped for your presence, only to wake up and realize you were gone.
His heart leapt to his throat and he ripped his sheet away to reach for his phone on your nightstand. A text message read: Heeeey, I had to leave super early. I have to deal with an emergency. Didn’t want to wake you. Tell me when you’re up though!
He was frustrated, immediately. First, at you, for leaving so early, then at himself, for thinking such things. It’s fine, he’ll deal with it. He had to learn to deal with his emotions by himself. He had to learn to be stronger for you.
His mood didn’t improve throughout the day. Even when he did some work to get his mind off of it.
Saeran slammed his laptop shut and leaned back on the couch. From his seat, he spotted the trash can. It was filled to the brim. Not only that, it couldn’t even close with how much trash there was. He remembered telling you to take that out 2 days ago, why is it still there?
The door clicked open then and you strode inside with a bag of groceries. “Oh hi, you’re up. Didn’t you see my text?”
He did. He didn’t really want to reply.
His lack of reply didn’t deter you. “I ran into an old classmate on the way home, she’s inviting me to a party, but honestly we weren’t even that close so I don’t know if I should go. I remember she once told me I had weird legs…”
As you narrated your day, you organized the groceries.
Saeran was only half listening. The other half was sitting in a boiling pot of anger and frustration.
“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked when you noticed his unnatural silence. “Sorry that dinner is taking so long, do you want to eat something while you wait?”
Saeran rolled his eyes. “You know what I want? I want you to take out the trash already. It’s been a full 24 hours since I asked you to take it out and there it is. I can’t believe you can live in this kind of mess!”
“Oh, well I—”
“You’ve been walking around in the kitchen for nearly an hour, you don’t notice how the trash doesn’t even close anymore? You remember what your aunt said about your shirt 3 weeks ago but you can’t remember to take out the trash you see everyday? Grow up!”
He watched the expression on your face melt from surprise and confusion into quiet vitriol. Your breath heaved. His throat tightened. Then, came the tears. Your lips quivering with words you refused to release. Only then did he realize he’s gone too far.
Without a word, you put the potholder down on the counter and pull the trash bag out of the can and tie it off nicely. You crossed the room.
“MC, I—”
You held a hand up to stop him before grabbing your wallet and keys. “I love you, but I need a moment,” you told him before you walked out the door.
Saeran’s heart dropped to his gut when he heard the door shut. This was bad. This was really bad. You’ve had arguments before but this was the first time he’s seen you so angry you couldn’t even speak.
He should go after you. Wait. No. That would be worse. You’ll be back. Right? What you said earlier definitely means you’ll come back.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Saeran bolted out the door. Looking both ways on the street. You were nowhere to be found.
He messed up big time. Why is he like this? Why her? Of all people why her?
Walking back inside, he tried not to panic. He should call you. His eyes jumped to the couch where his phone sat. He dialed your number only to discover that you had left your phone on the dinner table.
His fault. His fault. His fault. He’s shit. His fault. His fault. You left. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Not your fault. Not your fault.
Saeran curled himself up on the wall next to the door.
He doesn’t know for how long he sat there. This wasn’t the first time this has happened. He’s snapped before…but… you always stayed.
You always stayed…
The door clicked open and he sprang out of the ground.
There you were. Despite your insistence to look indifferent, the spot of redness under your eyes betrayed you. He did this to you. His fault. His fault.
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it, I promise. I…I’m not okay… I’m not okay. It’s not your fault. I took it out on you and I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave again.” Tears started flowing down your cheeks and nails dug into his heart. He wanted to touch you. Was he allowed to touch you? Please just don’t leave. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’ll do anything, just… I really didn’t—”
THWACK!
A cold object collided with his chest and landed on the ground. Saeran looked down and it was a packet of popsicle ice cream. He bent down to pick it up. When he looked up at you, you had wiped away your tears and had a pout on your face.
This is the follow up to a fic I wrote in 2020 lmaoo which you can read HERE I actually finished this awhile ago, but I kept forgetting to post it here... oops. Check it out on Ao3 if you like! Somnophilia again and drugging bc... suit Saeran lol nsfw obviously
It had been a rough day. You had fought him especially hard that day. Despite the long months that he had kept you, sometimes it all got to be too much. You weren’t his perfect, numb little doll all the time. Sometimes, you would find your fight hiding somewhere deep inside you and it would burst out of you no matter how horrible you knew the punishment would be.
Saeran knew how to take care of that little streak of defiance. He would stomp it out as many times as necessary before you learned. He would make sure you knew that there was nowhere on this godforsaken Earth that you belonged. Nowhere but at his side.
You had fallen asleep hard after he forced the Elixir down your throat. It had burned terribly and left you shaking as the fever-like symptoms set in. Saeran liked you better like this. All pained and compliant. Absolutely pitiful.
He had let you crumple into a ball on the floor and only moved you to the bed once he was sure you were out cold. He hummed as his hands wandered across your sleeping form. Your breathing was labored and you had broken out in a cold sweat.
“Aww, poor little toy~” Saeran cooed mockingly at you, a cheshire grin stretching across his face. “You’re sweating so much… I’ll have to take your dress off for you.” He moved his finger along your collarbone until he reached the spaghetti strap barely holding up your little black dress.
He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You don’t mind, do you darling?” Saeran laughed, sounding almost manic. He knew that even if you did wake up, your limbs would be too numb to really move away from him. It would also be several more hours before you were able to string competent sentences together.
You were caught in the spider's web and even if you were able to force yourself into waking, there would be no escape for you. No, you had long since accepted that the closest you would get to freedom, would be the unconsciousness the Elixir provides you. The uncomfortable floating through darkness, unseen hands grabbing you and contorting the body you could hardly feel through the cotton clogging your brain. You could even hear him talking to you. No amount of drugs would ever grant you enough distance from his voice.
Saeran began the slow and almost reverent process of undressing you, finally slipping the thin straps from your shoulders. Your skin was cool under his fingers, even as sweat dripped into your clavicle. He swallowed dryly as your breasts were slowly revealed to him. He would never admit it, but his hands trembled as they moved to caress your chest.
He groaned as he felt your nipples harden into tight peaks under his palms. “Aren’t you a perfect toy,” Saeran pinched your nipples, drawing a choked gasp from your lips. “Already responding so sweetly for me. I bet your little pussy is making a mess all over the bedspread.” A positively feral grin was plastered on his face as he watched your body tremble underneath him.
You were breathing shallowly and your face was contorted in pain. Saeran felt a thrill run through him as he watched you. He leaned down to lick up the sweat that had pooled between your breasts. He moaned at the taste of you and moved to pull one of your nipples into his mouth. He could feel your chest heaving as he bit down on your nipple and his hand went to abuse the other one.
Saeran finally released your abused nipple, only to pepper piercing bites across your chest and down your stomach, following the descent of your dress. He panted over you as he got your dress over your hips, revealing the silk black underwear he had selected for you. Saeran sighed happily at the sight.
“You look so much better in black, Princess.” He said, feeling the delicate material between his thumb and forefinger. “I know Ray likes to put you in pink and frills, but we both know that black suits you best.” Saeran pet his hands down your hips, finally ridding you completely of your dress.
Saeran brushed his fingers against the tops of your thighs, unwilling to take off your underwear just yet. He wanted to savor the moment, he wanted to savor you. His mouth watered as he thought about tasting you. Unable to help himself, he pushed his face into the apex of your thighs, breathing in the scent of your sex.
He shuddered violently, rivaling your own feverish tremors. “ Fuck , you smell too fucking good for a useless toy,” Saeran growled, pulling your panties to the side to feel your wetness directly. Your underwear was drenched, if not completely ruined. He tsked at you, “I’ll have to punish you for that, Princess ,” he spat the nickname at you, his finger swiping through your soaking folds. “I knew you would be making a mess of yourself, but don’t worry. I’ll always be here to clean up my disgusting little toy.”
Saeran chuckled dryly as he leaned in to place a sharp bite on your thigh. He sucked the meat of your leg hard and worried it between his teeth to give you a large hickey. Your leg flinched involuntarily, but Saeran just wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep you firmly in place. “Oh, no Princess. You aren’t going anywhere.” He said, pulling you even closer to lick lightly at your clit.
You moaned at the contact and you could feel your consciousness brimming to the surface, but you were unable to break through. The waking world was pressing in on you from all sides, your eyelids so heavy you couldn’t bare to force them open. Your limbs were slow and numb, they felt as if they were filled with lead. But every touch from Saeran sent fire shooting through your veins, a fire you could not escape from, only endure.
Saeran’s fingers teased your entrance, barely pressing his fingertips inside you as he continued to flick his tongue across your clit. Your hips bucked suddenly, forcing his middle finger to sink into your waiting heat. He groaned, feeling the way your muscles tightened around him. His brain was flooded with images of you, split open on his cock, clenching so tightly he could not move unless he wanted to blow his load far too quickly.
Saeran was painfully hard in his dress pants and as much as he wanted to take his time, he was running out of patience. He moved his finger in and out of you slowly, not wasting much time before adding a second. The slight stretch forced a choked groan from your lips and Saeran responded by sucking your clit harshly. Your hips stuttered and he could feel your heartbeat thumping in your pussy as he crooked his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion.
Unable to wait for another second, Saeran forced his face away from your intoxicating sex, his fingers still knuckle deep inside you. “I know you’re close,” he said, leaning over you and brushing his lips against yours. “But I don’t want you to cum without me. After all, I’m the only one who should get to play with my toy.” He sounded out of breath, but that didn’t stop him from forcing a kiss to your slightly parted lips.
Saeran forced his tongue in your mouth, exploring every possible inch and leaving your own taste to sit heavy on your tongue. He worked frantically to pull his dripping cock out of his pants as he fucked you faster with his fingers. Once he freed his dick, he abruptly pulled his fingers out and swallowed the little whine you let out from the loss.
“I know,” Saeran moaned in response to you. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill up your greedy little pussy.” He said, lining up his cock to your dripping entrance. He thrust his hips sloppily, forcing his prick up through your folds to nudge at the underside of your clit rather than immediately pushing inside you. Saeran stayed like that for a moment, moving back and forth slightly to spread your wetness all over the head of his cock.
Your mouth dropped open, breathless moans barely escaping your throat. Your eyes were still firmly shut, but your reality was a shifting, undulating, living thing. If you were able to speak, you would have begged Saeran to just get it over with. Your body thrummed with restrained energy, and your consciousness floated somewhere between waking and dreaming, unwilling or unable to fully break into reality.
Finally, Saeran guided his throbbing cock into your waiting heat. He inched forward into you as slow as he could stand, still wanting to savor the moment. You felt hotter with the Elixir in your system and he knew it was because of the low fever you were running. It only made you all the more addicting to him. Your sleeping face, dewy with how much you had been sweating, he had never seen you more beautiful.
Saeran gasped once he was hilted entirely inside you. “Ah, Princess, you’re fucking perfect like this,” he grunted, grinding into you as deep as possible. “All loose and pliant for me. The perfect little toy for me to play with.” He punctuated his every word with a powerful thrust, forcing pathetic, almost wounded-sounding moans from you. The noises you made only made him harder and pushed him to an almost frenzied state.
“Damn, I’m not gonna last much longer,” Saeran mumbled as he licked the pad of his thumb and brought it down to rub tight circles around your clit. “But you’re going to cum with me, like a good toy, aren’t you? You wouldn’t dare disappoint your master now, right, Princess ?” He spat the words at you, but only increased the pressure on your abused bead of nerves.
You could feel your lungs seizing up as your orgasm approached. The pleasure felt sharp on your frayed nerves, almost like it was cutting you. In your mind's eye, you tripped head over heels on a knife edge, the sharp blade cutting into the soles of your feet. Saeran gripped your hips in a bruising hold, and the knife skinned you down to the bone. Everything hurt and you anticipated the final push over the edge nearly as much as you dreaded it.
Saeran folded himself over your trembling form and bit deeply on your collarbone as his orgasm exploded inside you. The bite had starbursts exploding behind your closed eyelids, causing your body to jackknife off the bed without your permission. Your pussy clenched around Saeran’s cock in a merciless grip as you milked him for all he was worth. Your own orgasm forcing you further into the blackness of unconsciousness, too tired to fight the uneasy sleep it forced you into.
Saeran panted on top of you, his arms shaking as he tried to keep himself from resting comfortably on you. He pushed himself up and carefully pulled out of you. His cum began to slowly trickle out of you and he methodically fixed your underwear to prevent it from moving any further. The thought of you waking up hours later only to find the sticky mess he left for you, made his spent cock twitch with interest.
“Don’t say I never give you anything,” Saeran said, a tired, ironic smile played on his lips as he pressed his fingers to your covered clit. “Maybe I’ll even give you another orgasm before you wake up. Wouldn’t that be a lovely treat for my useless toy?” His nearly manic laughter echoed around the room and you couldn’t do anything but accept his gifts.
