caedynscorner
Caedyn’s Corner
Wanna-be writer, photographer, and blogger. She/her. 99 line Lover of books and cute animals. Always keep fighting and keep a positive mental attitude! 💚
5396 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
hopefulempathdonutgoop
Sebatas kisah
the-cat-at-the-theatre-door
dare you look at a king?
27cook-blog
Tanpa judul
queendayah
💙🩷💚
farnoush-farsiar6bcc
Farnoush Farsiar Blog Info 1b
Text
ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 05
note: this is the final part of a series (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4)
content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of twin flames, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, themes of death/grief, more crying (sorry), nsfw scenes
18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, soft smut, mirror sex, lots and lots of praise, body worship, biting, marking, possessiveness, teasing, channie is very embarrassed, handjob, begging, just a little bit of crying, edging, reader and chan are kinda obsessively in love, unprotected sex, riding, cockwarming
word count: 17.3k
A call of your name from across the lab caught your attention, just as you were preparing to collect your materials and head out for the day. Fumbling with your bag, you zipped it up as quickly as you could and headed towards your lab instructor, already bracing yourself for a conversation that, based on your track record with her, was very likely to be disheartening.
She lowered the stack of papers she’d been holding as you approached her, revealing her smile—a rare sight for anyone who worked under her.
“Yes?”
“Congratulations,” she announced. “Your paper’s approved.”
Your eyes widened as she handed the stack to you, over twenty pages of blood, sweat, and tears. They felt heavy in your hands, heavy with the weight of everything that had been sacrificed for their completion. Just a few days ago, the news would’ve had you over the moon. It was all you’d been wanting to hear, all you’d been dreaming of since you’d first begun your studies. Now, it was nothing more than a shallow comfort, a single drop of sunlight that was immediately obscured by the shadows all around it.
“Great,” you said at last, flashing a strained smile. “Thank you, Professor.”
She gave you a pat on the back, and you tried to find solace in the proud shine in her eyes. “You did well,” she praised. “I’m sure you’ll excel in your next rotation, too.”
“My next…rotation?”
Your instructor glanced down at her clipboard, adjusting her glasses with a hum. “Since your research has been approved, there’s no need for you to remain at your current station. You’ve spent quite a bit of time with those binary pairs,” she added. “You’ll be doing interferometric imaging for the next few weeks. We’re a few people short.”
Something twisted inside you. “Really?”
She looked up from her notes, quirking an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
“I…” you trailed off. There was nothing you could tell her that would be meaningful enough for her to let you stay—nothing that wouldn’t get you laughed at or even potentially dismissed from the lab for the rest of the semester. How on earth were you meant to explain that a pair of spectroscopic stars had come to mean so much to you? How on earth were you meant to explain what they signified in your mind?
“No, nothing,” you said weakly. “I’ll transfer my things tomorrow. Thank you.”
Your instructor nodded, and that was that. In the blink of an eye, you’d lost the final piece of what you’d had left of Chan.
You adjusted the strap of your bag, bowing quickly to her and turning to leave. Your pace quickened as you exited the lab, a wave of inexplicable emotions rising within you. It ushered you to head home as soon as possible, like it was a race against time, like you had to reach shelter before it crashed into the shore and drowned you in front of everyone.
A cold gust of air billowed past you as you pushed open the doors to the physics building. You squinted against it, burying your hands in your pockets. The sky was still covered with that same, gray sheet—much darker than it had been earlier in the week. The closer you studied it, the more it looked like the clouds might break at any given moment. All the more reason to rush home; you hadn’t brought an umbrella.
Your phone vibrated against your hand, and you fished it out of your pocket without thinking. Anything to distract you from this.
bin 😑 (2:27 p.m.)
hey
bin 😑 (2:28 p.m.)
is everything okay?
Just as you were about to close the notification, another came.
bin 😑 (2:30 p.m.)
did something happen with chan?
You stopped in your tracks.
Did he really not know? Had Chan still not said anything to him?
Was Chan keeping it all to himself? Suffering in silence, even now?
You didn’t have to question it for long. Of course he was.
Against your better judgment, you typed out a reply, fingers stiff from the cold and—for some reason—thumb burning.
you (2:33 p.m.)
i’m fine bin
don’t worry about me
you (2:34 p.m.)
please just be there for chan
bin 😑 (2:36 p.m.)
where have u been???
i was worried
Guilt, guilt, guilt.
He wouldn’t be worried anymore when he found out the truth.
bin 😑 (2:38 p.m)
pls talk to me
You wanted to talk to him. You so badly wanted to talk to him—not even about everything that had transpired over the past four days, just in general. You wanted to tease him, to laugh with him, to share a meal with him, to chatter about the most trivial, most mundane of topics with him because you could, because you enjoyed each other’s company and nothing else.
You missed your friend. But he was Chan’s friend first and foremost; Chan’s little brother. Losing Chan meant losing Changbin. The moment he’d find out what you’d done, how you’d hurt the person he admired most in this world, he would look at you with that same, dark glare that had unsettled you so much on the day you’d first met. Only this time, it wouldn’t be misleading, masking the kindness underneath. It would be real, intentional. He would mean every bit of it.
Minho’s glares were one thing. The thought of Changbin looking at you the same way was more than you could take. There was no place for you in his life anymore.
A droplet landed on your screen, splattering water across it and blurring the words of his message. You looked up at the sky. The clouds had broken.
You were going to cry.
It was for the best, probably. A pot could only withstand so much before it boiled over. And boil over, it did.
You pulled the hood of your jacket over your head just as the rain began to fall more steadily, sinking to the ground and settling on the curb of the sidewalk. You gave up on outrunning the wave. For once, uncaring of the people around you. For once, allowing yourself to be an inconvenience.
Vaguely, you felt another buzz in your pocket; repeating, persistent. Changbin must have been calling you. Pressure rose in your chest. A strange sound built in your throat, an unpleasant, unfamiliar sensation pricked at your eyes. But before droplets of your own could well up in their corners, before you could release, the feeling of rain pattering relentlessly against your clothes came to a sudden halt. Something had passed over you, shielding you from it.
You didn’t bother to look up, praying that whoever it was whose presence you felt hovering above you, they’d take the hint and leave you alone. Just a moment to wallow in your misery. Just a moment to feel without worrying about anyone or anything else. Even now, that was too much to ask for, it seemed.
Through the roaring downpour, you barely caught it—soft, airy.
“It’s raining.”
Your blood ran cold, chilling you more than any of the water seeping through your clothing, right down to your bones.
Of course. You almost laughed out loud. Of fucking course.
This had to be some kind of joke, the universe’s cruel finale to everything it had put you through over the past three years.
“Go away.”
“Aren’t you gonna congratulate me for learning how to use an umbrella?”
You peered up through the mess of hair and fabric blocking your vision, fixing him with a look fiercer than any of the insults he’d ever hurled your way.
“Go away.”
His stare didn’t waver, face unchanging as always. It must’ve been so easy, to be so unaffected. It must’ve been so easy, to care so little. He blinked down at you, and despite the static swarming your mind, through it all, you couldn’t help but notice that there was nothing harsh about the look he was giving you. Not quite warm, not quite cold. It was far from the self-satisfied expression of someone who knew he had been right all along. Of someone who knew that he had won.
“Come with me.”
You watched him blankly, too appalled to speak.
When you didn’t budge, he tilted his wrist, leaning his umbrella forward so that it covered you completely and exposed part of himself to the rain.
“I’ll get sick if you don’t.”
“Yeah? Brew yourself some yuja tea.”
His lip twitched into the beginnings of a smirk. Not smug, not condescending. Just faintly amused.
“That was pretty funny.” He tilted the umbrella further. The rain began to land on his hair, darkening it, weighing it down. “But I’m really starting to get cold, now.”
“I don’t care.”
He clicked his tongue. Still, he made no move to leave, not even to pull his umbrella back over himself. You might’ve been swayed by whatever approach he was taking if you weren’t too preoccupied with figuring out just how the hell you could get rid of this guy.
“By the way,” he added casually. “Changbin gave me something. I think it belongs to you?”
You cursed yourself for perking up so quickly, so obviously. It was only for a split second, but he caught on—of course he did—eyes glinting like a cat that had spotted its target in all your loose threads.
“What do you want?”
“Let’s talk,” he said. “Come with me, and the pencil’s all yours.”
You gave in. For whatever reason, Lee Minho had suddenly decided that you were now worth his time.
He didn’t offer his hand to help you come to full standing, but he kept the umbrella steadily above you as you rose from the curb, allowing himself to get drenched in the process. It almost made you grimace more than his usual behavior, solely because it felt so wrong. And, maybe, because you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Not even from someone like him.
As he led you down the sidewalk towards wherever he planned to take you, you inched away from him, back into the rain. He made no effort to move closer again, but you did notice his eyes flicker your way once or twice.
You shuffled awkwardly behind him, focus kept firmly on the pavement, feet kicking up water with every step you took. It wasn’t until the warm, addictive scent of freshly-ground coffee flooded your senses that you lifted your head with a start, just in time to see Minho wiping the bottom of his shoes on the campus library mat. He shook out his umbrella and stepped inside, seemingly debating for a moment whether or not he should hold the door open for you.
An ache gripped your heart, somehow, stronger than anything you’d felt over the past four days. It ached and throbbed and pulsed when you processed where you were headed. The table right across from the entrance, at the very back of the library.
You half-expected to find him there—shrouded in black, hunched over his laptop, one set of fingers playing with his lips, the other set tapping along to the melody of his music. But his seat was empty. He wasn't there anymore.
You tried to control the sheer enormity of your anguish as you approached its source. You’d already humiliated yourself enough in front of the last person you’d ever have wanted to witness it. Even if he didn’t seem nearly as delighted with your downfall as you’d imagined, the fact that he’d caught you more vulnerable than anyone else had before, more than Chan ever had, made your skin positively crawl.
Minho sat down with a heavy sigh, ruffling his hair in a half-hearted attempt to dry it out. He slipped off his drenched jacket, giving it a disgusted look before dropping it on the table.
“Want some coffee?”
“No.”
“It’ll warm you up.”
You narrowed your eyes. If you’d had any semblance of rationality left in your system, you would’ve told yourself that it was just an offhand comment, that he couldn’t possibly have known just how devoid of warmth you truly were. But you were far past that point. Everything he said was a trap and everything he did was a taunt.
When he saw that you had no plans to respond, he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Where’s my pencil?”
“Oh,” he sniffed. “I lied about that.”
You bristled. “What?”
“I don’t have it,” he clarified. “I lied so you’d come with me. Get it?”
You reached for your bag, preparing to leave.
“You can take it from Changbin yourself,” he continued. “Once this is all fixed.”
For once, the absolute certainty with which he spoke, like anything that came out of his mouth was a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled, wasn’t used to stir doubt within you. You froze in place. Whether it was a flash of hope, or a stubborn indignation that kept you rooted to your chair, you weren’t quite sure.
“Once this is fixed?” you echoed, rife with hostility. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? Chan hates me just as much as you do, now. You win.”
“I don’t hate you.”
You scoffed, expecting the lie—because it had to be a lie, a jeer, a vicious way to kick you while you were down—to be followed by that same scornful sneer that had become all too familiar for your liking.
But it never came.
Your disbelief was only met with a sincere, unbreaking expression. No games, no underlying meaning. A complete contrast to everything you associated with Lee Minho.
“Are you serious?”
“You don’t believe me?” he feigned hurt, which you had half a mind to be infuriated about considering the many, many worse things he’d assumed about you. “I mean it. I don’t hate you.”
You blinked.
“I probably could’ve,” he added unhelpfully. “If what I'd thought about you turned out to be true. But really, I just didn’t trust you.”
You grunted to at least acknowledge his confession, unsure of how else you should react. If that was how he treated the people he didn’t trust, you’d love to know what his hatred looked like.
You’d long told yourself not to take it personally, but for some reason, there was an undeniable sting there. Maybe it was because Minho was eerily perceptive, so much that this whole ordeal had planted the idea in your head that he had to be correct. Or maybe, it was because you’d always felt like there was a bit of truth to his impression of you, even before you’d met him, even before his opinion of you had sunk straight into the gutter. Having someone else say it out loud had just forced you to come to terms with it.
That constant voice in the back of your head, etching guilt into your mind. Telling you that you liked hurting the people who depended on you, that you liked to build them a safe haven and then crush it before their very eyes. Exactly what he had claimed you’d done to him.
Exactly what you’d done to Chan.
“Am I making things worse?” Minho tilted his head.
“No,” you answered, and it was mostly honest. “Go on.”
He said nothing, eyeing you for a moment longer. It put you on high alert. Similarly to Chan, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was delving straight into your center—but unlike Chan, there was no comfort of being able to stare right back into his.
“You probably know this by now, but Chan is an easy target for a lot of people,” he began. Slow, deliberate, no playful lilt to it. “He can usually tell when he’s being mistreated, but even so, he puts up with it. He thinks he can make it all better.”
You shifted uncomfortably in your spot, concentrating on the rain droplets that hadn’t yet dried from your hair. “Yeah, I know.”
I know better than you. The petty side of you wanted to tack on. But you decided against it, instead choosing to foster whatever kind of tentative truce was coming to fruition here.
Minho paused again. “Right.”
“So, what, you thought I was one of those people?”
“Mm.” Blunt as ever. “Like I said, I've seen the type before. And if Chan wasn’t going to do anything about it, then I was.”
He’d changed his wording, you noticed. It had been your type before, uttered with all the contempt and venom in the world. You wanted to find consolation in that subtle difference, but it didn’t stop the memory from rousing your defiance all over again.
“You think he can’t make decisions for himself?”
It was a risk—hypocritical, too, when you knew firsthand what kind of decisions Chan made for himself, when you knew firsthand the powerlessness of trying to get him to stop—but you said it anyway. Minho hummed, leaning back in his chair, as if the challenge in your words hadn’t affected him in the slightest.
“Of course he can,” he replied evenly. “Doesn’t make them right. When you see your friend make the same decision over and over and get hurt every single time, wouldn’t it be cruel to just sit by and watch?”
He looked off to the side, and if you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought that he was—God forbid—trying to prevent you from possibly catching on to an emotion of his.
“That’s what real insanity is—isn’t that how the saying goes? Repeating the same thing and expecting different results.”
You knew, deep down, that his explanation made sense, and somehow, that only stung more. You felt wronged, like the collateral damage for all the people who had harmed Chan in the past. Knowing Minho had treated you so coldly out of the goodness of his heart wasn’t much of a compensation. In a childish sense, it made things even worse, because now, your own negative feelings towards him felt unjustified.
That didn’t even begin to cover the fact that he had been right.
Every part of you wanted to object to him lumping you in with all the others as the same decision, but in the end, you were just another name on the endless list of people who had hurt Chan.
When he saw how long you’d gone silent for, Minho spoke up again, looking unsure of himself for what may very well have been the first time in his life.
“I’m…” he huffed. “Look, I was wrong.”
As always, what he said was the polar opposite of what you’d been thinking. It was almost comical, how the wavelengths the two of you operated on were so determined to be different in every conceivable way.
His ears, you noticed, had dusted red at the tips—the exact same way Chan’s would flare up when he was flustered. You hated how it weakened your resolve, how his mere association with Chan had you more than willing to accept his olive branch, however awkwardly shaped it was.
“Chan’s done a lot for me—for everyone. I just wanted to protect him.”
That was the point of convergence, the one, precious point where your waves intersected. The desire to keep Chan safe. You understood it better than anything else, and so, for that fleeting moment, you understood Minho. Still, your pride—something you’d repressed far too many times in your attempts to reconcile with him before—wasn’t quite ready to back down.
“But you barely even knew me,” you protested. “What did I do to make you decide that you hated me all of a sudden?”
“Didn’t hate you,” he corrected.
You pressed your lips together into an annoyed line. “What made you think I wanted to…to hurt him?”
Minho looked contemplative, and you found yourself worrying that he may simply decide not to tell you. You wouldn’t put it past him. It would be painfully on-brand, actually, at least with the version of him that you’d come to know.
“Chan came home crying.”
Your throat went dry.
“What?” you rasped. “When?”
“Back in July. The morning I got back from summer break.”
The morning after you’d first slept together. All at once, everything snapped into place—pieces of the puzzle that you hadn’t been able to connect, pieces that you hadn’t even known were missing in the first place.
“So, he comes home from your place, crying, with those marks all over his neck,” he explained. “It wasn’t the first time something like that happened. I put two and two together.”
You felt sick enough that you actually feared you might throw up, right there, on the library floor.
“I thought he must’ve landed himself in a bad spot again. With someone who only wanted to use him.”
“Why?” You gripped your soaked bag to your chest, with so much force that residual water began to dribble out of it. “Why was he crying?”
How did I hurt him? You wanted to add. Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t I notice?
How could you have ever let this happen?
Minho hesitated, and you squeezed your eyes shut, not entirely certain that you even wanted to hear the answer.
“He was happy.”
Confusion. And then, relief. And then, confusion again. The turmoil must have been written all over your face, because Minho ever so graciously decided to elaborate.
“I didn’t find that part out until yesterday, though. Not much of a happy crier, myself.”
A fresh surge of anger overtook everything else you were struggling to comprehend. Thoughts of what could’ve been, of how it all might have turned out if it weren’t for the man in front of you. The man who had given you all the tools in chiseling your self-doubt to perfection, who had passed you the hammer to destroy what you loved most.
You wanted it to be his fault. It would be so easy to pin the blame all on him. But nothing was ever that easy. Nothing was ever that simple. Even without the right tools, you would’ve found a way to destroy it regardless. It was what you were best at.
“You didn’t bother to ask him!?” you snapped.
“Oh. You think I’m stupid.” A glimpse of his former sharpness. You had to stop yourself from saying yes, just to spite him. “Of course, I asked. More than once. But his answer was the same as always—he smiled and told me not to worry. He’d say it with a gun to his head.”
You frowned. It was too much to process at once, too much for your already worn-down brain to compute. All you could really make sense of was a gut feeling, an instinct, telling you that you’d made a horrible, horrible mistake.
“I talked to Chan yesterday,” he mellowed again, back to his usual, airy tenor. “He told me everything. He doesn’t seem to fully understand it, but I do.”
Minho locked eyes with you, deep, intense. No longer the look of someone that had decided you were guilty, but a look that warned you that he would know if you were lying to him.
“You care about him, don’t you?”
It sounded more like a statement than a question, but you nodded, anyway. Such a simple thing to admit to. How could such a simple thing have ever led to all of this?
“Yeah,” you mumbled. “That’s why I did it. I was afraid I’d end up…”
You took in a shaky breath.
“I just didn’t want to hurt him.”
“Ah, seriously.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and he laughed. Incredulous, dry, ending with an exhale. “You broke up with him because you didn’t want to hurt him? Do you realize how insane that sounds?”
Your face heated up. “You’re the one who thought I would in the first place!”
“But I was wrong.”
You were taken aback by how plainly he admitted to it, how that indestructible, stubborn pride of his was extinguished the instant he’d learned it had harmed someone he cared about. Even more troubling than that, was that you could tell he was apologetic, even without him saying it outright. All of this, as annoyingly as he was going about it, was his apology to you. Changbin’s words—fond and reassuring and, now, truer than ever—reverberated in your mind. Soft at heart.
“People are supposed to help each other. You know that, right?”
You snorted at the absurdity of the question.
“Obviously.”
“So why are you so weird about it?”
“It’s different with Chan,” you insisted. “You said it yourself. He does so much—everyone takes so much from him. I didn’t want to do the same.”
“But that’s still not fair, is it?” he countered. “You’d just be giving everything instead. Chan doesn’t want that, either.”
You opened your mouth to argue, only for the words to die in your throat. There was no way to justify it without sounding ridiculous—maybe, because it was a bit ridiculous. But Chan was the exception, he would always be the exception. You would give everything to him because you knew he would never take it for granted. You would give everything to him because he’d already given everyone so much.
Because he’d given you so much.
Ah.
“God, you two are so—” Minho cradled his head dramatically, sensing that you’d finally worked it out in your mind. “You’ve already got the hardest part figured out. Just learn to take once in a while. You’re not gonna die.”
“But he won’t change unless I do,” you muttered. “I know he won’t.”
He gave you a look of pure exasperation, as if the answer couldn’t have been more obvious.
“So, change.”
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
The feeling of your heart threatening to burst out of your chest, courtesy of Bang Christopher Chan, was one you’d become well-acquainted with over the past seven months. But of all the times you’d experienced it, it’d never been quite like this. This was something else entirely.
A day to mull everything over after your conversation with Minho, a sleepless night spent trying and failing to map out how you could possibly approach the situation, and over an hour of pacing restlessly around your apartment—all useless in ebbing the adrenaline that coursed through your veins. Before the clock had even struck 10:00 a.m., you’d not only felt like you had run a marathon, but that you could run another for good measure.
You’d spoken to Changbin first. He at least deserved to know what was going on. He deserved an apology, even if the very real possibility that he would never speak to you again afterwards made your stomach churn. On a more selfish note—you figured today was as good as any to start with that—you’d also just really, really missed him.
As it turned out, he’d more or less come to grasp the situation, even when being protected from all angles. Between what little Minho had let slip, Chan’s avoidant behavior (to the surprise of no one, he’d hardly let Changbin know a thing) and your vaguely ominous texts, he’d gathered up enough bits and pieces for his genius intuition to fill in the gaps. The sound of his voice once you’d revealed what had happened in full; compassionate, calm—not an ounce of the disdain you’d resigned yourself to be met with so viciously—had almost been enough to make you choke up.
“You should’ve told me,” he’d chided. “Why do you love doing that to yourself? What, you think I’m not strong enough to lean on?”
You’d let out a long exhale, heavy with all the apprehension you released with it; relieved, embarrassed. “It’s not that, Bin,” you’d mumbled. “I didn’t want to trouble you. Not when Chan and Minho both mean so much to you.”
“And you think you don’t? C’mon, you’re supposed to be the smart one here.”
Naturally, it only added to your guilt, that you’d created such an uncharacteristically cruel image of him in your head. This was Seo Changbin, after all. A great talker, but an even better listener, and as much as he liked to tease Chan for his age, he had a level of emotional intelligence far beyond his years. A wisdom that you would probably do well to learn from whenever it bothered to make an appearance.
At the same time, however, this was Seo Changbin, the one man show, Leo incarnate. Once the relief of hearing back from you had eased his conscience (as much as it could, knowing how horribly tangled up everything had become), the theatrics had ensued.
“Dating my best friend is one thing, but breaking his heart is off limits!” he’d complained. It was mostly light. No real anger behind it, just plenty of highly-warranted frustration. “Not only that—breaking your own heart too! What am I supposed to do with two brokenhearted best friends? Hang out with Minho!?”
After a slew of loud, nagging, reprimands, and a very serious threat that Cinnamoroll would be held hostage until further notice, Changbin had let you go. For the first time in five days, you’d laughed. You’d never felt more grateful, or more stupid, in your life. He made it all sound so simple. Lee Minho, quite possibly the most convoluted piece of work you’d ever encountered in this world, had made it all sound so simple.
You could only hope that you hadn’t crushed it into something infinitely more complicated, something beyond repair.
The trembling of your fingers, coupled with that strange sensation in your thumb that had yet to go away, made it difficult for you to type properly. Still, you persisted, throwing caution to the wind. Caution had ruled over you for far too long, anyway.
you (10:03 a.m.)
hi
you (10:04 a.m.)
i understand if you want some space right now
but if you can, i’d like to talk
You prepared to lock your phone, not expecting a reply for some time—if any at all. Even under normal circumstances, he didn’t always get back to you right away. But, well, maybe the fact that the circumstances were anything but normal should’ve been enough for you to know better, because you didn’t even get the chance to swipe out of your messaging app before you noticed three little dots below your chat bubble.
Appearing. Disappearing. Appearing. Disappearing. Just a sign of life from him, and your palms had grown clammy. With fear, anticipation, dread. The dread of being met with anything but love, anything but warmth.
Then, at last, a single word.
channie 🐺 (10:08 a.m.)
about?
you (10:08 a.m.)
everything
us
This time, it took him longer to respond. Ignoring every instinct that screamed otherwise, you typed up another text. There was no use hiding. There was never any use hiding with him.
you (10:12 a.m.)
i don’t think i can do this
Almost immediately.
channie 🐺 (10:12 a.m.)
me neither
Your heart leapt. You didn’t want it to give you hope. He had every right, every reason in the world, to not give you the time of day. He could get his closure and leave you, just as you’d left him.
channie 🐺 (10:13 a.m.)
i can be over in 10?
A million thoughts sparked to life at once. The question of why he was already so close by. The urge to insist that you go meet him instead. The sudden realization that you were in no way prepared to see him so soon.
But all of it, overwhelming as it was, didn’t hold a candle to your strongest desire—a desire that could never be subdued by anything else. To put Chan first.
you (10:14 a.m.)
okay, sure
see you soon
You didn't deserve to say it, so you added it in your head. Get here safe, Channie.
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
Chan looked tired when you opened the door. Eyes dull, drooping, littered with traces of pink and lined with dark circles. A few stray curls peeked out from beneath his beanie. You prayed that the black hoodie he was wearing wasn’t the same one he’d had on five days ago. He looked so tired. Tired and cold.
His gaze met yours. Just for a heartbeat, then it fell to the ground. You wanted to think it was because he felt self-conscious, you wanted to think it was that shyness—that hopelessly endearing shyness that got the best of him no matter how many times he looked at you. You didn’t want to believe that he simply couldn’t stomach the sight of you anymore.
“Are you okay?”
Chan tensed. Then, he caught you eyeing the bandaid on his thumb. He brushed his finger over it absentmindedly. He’d thought the pain had faded until now.
“Yeah. Just cut my finger.”
Your expression changed.
“On accident.”
“Oh,” you murmured. “Does it hurt?”
“A bit.”
You reached up to tug at your ear. He swiped his thumb over his nose.
“I—” you swallowed. The moment he’d stepped through the door, everything you’d so carefully planned to say, every point you’d spent hours trying to piece together into something comprehensible, was immediately tossed out the window. You had to navigate this in real time. There was no map for it—the path to something better. The only place you’d ever journeyed was your own destruction.
“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out. “I think I messed up.”
He lifted his head. For once, unreadable.
“What do you mean?”
He knew what you meant, you were sure of it. But he wanted you to say it—needed you to say it. He needed you to dare to open yourself up to him, just as he had to you.
You understood now. That was the most important thing you could’ve ever given him, yet the one thing you’d refused to give.
“I’m not used to this,” you confessed. “I don’t know how to get used to it. You’re…you’re so good, Chan. To everyone. To me.”
Already, cracks were beginning to form in your composure. You had to keep it together, just enough to fix this. Just enough to hold the mirror up to him before it shattered.
“When someone that good comes into your life, you wanna do everything you can to keep them, y’know? I wanted to do everything for you.”
Chan’s breath caught in his throat, audibly, and you knew a protest was building on his tongue. So, you barreled through.
“It’s exactly because you’re so good that I got so scared. Because you wouldn’t just let me do it all for you like everyone else does.”
There was a pause, long and heavy enough for you to debate if you should just keep going, to air it all out and pray that at least some of it would come out sensical. But before you could, he spoke up, attentive as ever in what he chose to focus on. He narrowed it down like second nature, sought out the most essential part. The root of it all.
“You were scared?”
You winced. “I…yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
Whatever remained of your heart from the past few days was effectively smashed into pieces. An apology from the last person on earth you needed to hear it from. An apology from someone who was owed so many apologies. From you, from himself, and from countless others who would never have to say it.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I drove you to this, didn't I?” he whispered. “I thought about it the past few days—talked with Minho about it. I put you in a position you didn’t want. It’s my fault.”
“Oh, Channie,” it slipped out so naturally, with such ease, you didn’t even have the chance to second-guess yourself. “Your only fault is the way you treat yourself.”
Chan didn’t appear convinced. He shuffled his feet from side to side, hands heavy in the pocket of his hoodie. Restless, ashamed. Still not looking you in the eye. You weren’t grateful for it anymore; you missed his gaze. Dark and reflective, kind and curious. Seeing right through you, even with all its flickering around.
“Maybe I needed to be put in that position,” you continued. “I was just too much of a coward to take it. B-because you were right. I try to be everything for people, then I end up being nothing. I was so afraid I was going to do that to you—or even worse. I was afraid I was going to be the one taking everything from you.”
“Why would you ever think that?” he sounded so helpless, like you were communicating in two completely foreign tongues. No room for speaking in riddles. “I saw every little way you cared for me. Always. Did you think I didn’t?”
Challenging him meant challenging yourself. You’d taken the plunge acutely aware of that fact, this time. Still, the panic rose in your chest all over again, the itch in your feet goaded you to turn and run.
“I know you did. And that’s more than enough for me.” You forced yourself to take a step forward instead, desperate to get through to him, desperate to reach him. “But when you do these things for me at your own expense…when you don’t tell me about it, don’t you see how that could scare me? As someone who cares about you?”
In all the time you’d known Chan, you’d never once have guessed that he could be so difficult. But if that unshakeable stubbornness would emerge over anything, of course it would be this. He would never make things difficult for anyone but himself. You still remembered how plainly he’d said it, how bleak and merciless and cold it had been: “It doesn’t matter.”
You could tell he sensed how on-edge you were, how laughably out of your element something like this was for you. But you were pushing yourself—for him. So, like a true reflection, he matched you.
“I guess I was scared, too,” he admitted quietly. “It’s been the only thing I know how to do for so long. I thought…I-I thought you’d leave if I did anything else. Because why else would you stay, y’know?”
You’d known it. Even before he’d bared himself to you, even before you’d had the knowledge to connect all the dots, you’d felt it, deep within you. But that didn’t make hearing him say it out loud any less devastating.
“I don’t love you because of what you can do for me, Chan.”
His eyes shot up at last. Wide, intense, searching. Realigning with you. A break in the fog that had been clouding your view of each other for the past five days.
It may have been unfair—cruel, even—to say now. But you needed him to hear it, even if this was the end of the road for you and him. You needed to at least plant the seed in his mind with the hopes that one day, with enough care, it might sprout into something beautiful.
“You’re worth so much as you are,” you tried to get a handle on the shake creeping into it. “You do so much for me just by being yourself.”
Chan blinked. Pupils darting between you and the floor, hands slipping from his pockets, face muscles twisting in an internal conflict. You could see him physically exerting all his willpower to not reject the idea—to dare to accept a love so unconditional, solely so that you might accept it in return.
“If I told you the same thing,” he began slowly. “Would you believe me?”
You sucked in a deep breath. “I can learn to believe it.”
His fingers flexed. You realized for the first time how close the distance between you and him had become—drifting towards each other involuntarily. That inevitable, magnetic pull, more powerful than any of the forces you’d studied in four years.
“Okay.” He was reaching out for you. “Then, how about we learn together, yeah?”
Your heart jumped against your ribcage. Over his words. Over the sight of his pinky, held out in earnest despite you giving it such little reason to ever do so again, waiting patiently to curl against yours.
You’d believe in anything that connected you to him.
“Together.”
Just as quickly as things had fallen apart, the foundation was laid out for them to be put back together. A steady foundation, built to last. Your belief that day had turned out to be true, after all. Everything always worked out when you talked to Chan. When you leaned into him. When you didn’t run.
Heat rippled through you the instant your fingers entwined, fiercer, more all-consuming than even the first time you’d ever touched. Still, neither of you pulled away. For the first time in five days, you were warm again.
The new, unspoken promise igniting to life between you reminded you of another; one that you’d let sit on your ledger for far too long. One you’d made so carelessly to the boy who deserved all the care in the world. The boy who treated you with all the care in the world.
“I’m going to be more selfish from now on.” You tightened your hold on his pinky, creating a fresh buzz of heat. “Because I want you to be, too.”
You thought you were hallucinating it for a second, the beginnings of a grin on Chan’s face. Soft cheeks rising, not enough to draw out his dimples or eclipse his eyes, but enough to make you certain of your decision. The key you’d tossed out a year and a half ago was in that smile.
“Guess I’ve got no choice but to mirror you.”
“That’s right,” any firmness it might’ve had was lost to a smile of your own. Exhausted, but tragically enamored with the boy in front of you. “Since you wanna be my other half so bad, and all.”
He giggled. Short, sweet, playing the strings of your heart like a harp. Or, rather, its melody was the sound of your heart.
“I’m gonna tell you some things,” you warned. “And they’re not going to be nice. Or good. Is that okay?”
“Anything.” He unhooked his pinky from yours, only to wiggle his sleeve back and weave all of your fingers together instead. Five fingers, one for each of the days you’d spent apart. Your palm pressed against his, pumping faintly with your quickening pulse. “Tell me anything.”
You inhaled. Better to start with something smaller, first. A test run in this whole emotional openness thing.
“About Minho…”
“He gave you plenty of trouble, didn’t he?”
You puffed out a soft laugh. “Well, I gave him some back.”
“I scolded him,” Chan mumbled. “A lot. Bin did, too.”
You tried not to feel too satisfied about it. The idea of Chan, so doting, so unabashed in his adoration for the younger boy, rebuking him, addressing him with anything but overflowing fondness. You would take it as a small, private victory—one that Minho didn’t need to know about now that you’d both chosen to bury the hatchet.
“But…I hope you won’t think badly of him. He means well, really. He’s—”
“Soft at heart, right?” you finished for him. “It’s okay, we talked it out in the end. I think."
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, he told me.”
You could’ve laughed. Lee Minho. You never thought you’d see the day where the mention of him wouldn’t be promptly followed by a wave of absolute revulsion. You wondered if he was the reason Chan had even agreed to see you today. You wondered if he was the reason Chan had only been ten minutes away from your apartment before you’d even sent him a message.
“I just wish you’d told me.”
I wish you’d told me. They were words you’d said to him so many times, words you’d wanted to say on even more occasions. But it was in your hands, now. You were in each other’s hands, now. You didn’t have to wish anymore.
“I know.” You gave his palm a squeeze. “But you can see why I didn’t, right?”
He nodded, sheepish, well aware that it was a pointed question.
“A lot of the things Minho did were to protect you,” you murmured. “But, a lot of the things he said were things someone else once said to me. I guess it made them easier to believe.”
Chan’s thumb glided delicately across the back of your hand. You knew he could predict where this was going.
“When you told me about what happened two years ago, I think I related to you a lot. I think it was one of those shared experiences you talked about.”
Each sentence felt like it was being dragged out of you, uprooted. But it was necessary. Clearing the weeds out to make room for something less parasitic—maybe, even flowers. “My last relationship was with someone who took a lot out of me, too. He needed someone to depend on. I…I wanted to be that for him.”
“I know you did.” Gentle, sad. A tenderness for you and, hopefully, himself. It gave you the strength to keep going.
“He needed so many things, felt so many things. All his emotions became mine until I didn’t have any for myself,” you were losing control of your voice again. “I didn’t understand how you could ever blame yourself for what that girl did to you. But, really, I’ve always blamed myself, too. Because I let him rely on me. I promised to be everything for him, then I left.”
“But he never let you rely on him, did he?” Chan didn’t miss a beat, like he already knew the answer. “He wanted you to carry it all yourself.”
You averted your stare. “M-maybe. And maybe I wanted that, too. Some people just need more support than others, y’know? I thought I could handle it.”
You always thought you could handle it, even when every past experience proved otherwise. That was yet another thing Minho had been right about. You’d driven yourself mad repeating the same cycle over and over again, deluding yourself into thinking it could ever turn out any different.
“Nobody needs no support at all,” he pointed out. “Not even someone as strong as you.”
Strong. Hearing the word come out of his mouth—his perfect mouth, in that light, melodic voice—pricked at your eyes. It was a term you’d never once thought to describe yourself with. It was the exact opposite of everything you’d come to believe about yourself. You wanted to reject it, to crush the idea before letting it get to your head. But how could you, when it came from the strongest person you knew? How could you do anything but cling to it, cherish it?
“I don’t know if I’m strong,” you muttered, blinking away what was sure to come eventually. “It’s just that every time I’ve tried to lean on someone, they let me fall. So it’s better to stand on my own.”
“Yeah. I understand."
You knew that much was true. You knew, painfully well, how much he understood. And you knew he still thought you were strong.
“I…” Everything had been put into place—or, rather, everything had been properly displaced—for the dam to break loose. Tentatively, lovingly, he was helping you pull out each log. It filled you with fear, down to every last fiber of your being, but you knew that you could break in front of him. He wouldn’t crumble with you. He wouldn’t shatter over the mere prospect of you expressing an emotion of your own. He’d let you release, and when it was all over, he’d help you pick up the pieces. Just as you had with him.
“I lost my friend last year.”
“Lost…?”
“I mean, she passed away—last summer. She was in an accident back home.”
Such a common way to die for someone who was anything but. Such a special person to become part of such an ordinary statistic. Chan’s face morphed into something heartbreaking, a look that told you he felt everything you were feeling in that moment. The gears were turning in his head, you could see it unfolding through your blurred vision. That was why you hadn’t wanted to return home over the summer. That was why you’d come back to him so soon.
“I’m so sorry.”
You knew he wasn’t only giving his condolences, he was apologizing for ever cornering you to reveal it. For forcing you to unveil the wound that had been festering for so long. Bleeding with no signs of stopping, neglected with no signs of healing.
“It’s okay, I—” A lump rose in your throat. “I need to talk about it, I think. Never really did.”
His hand tugged at yours, just barely, uncertain. Always hesitant to pull you as close as he really wanted. You leaned forward all at once, falling into him. And he caught you.
“Never?”
“I tried once.” You rested your head against him, and his arms locked securely around you straight away. No room for you to fear, even for a second, that he might let you fall. “I tried to tell him. He always said he felt bad that he wasn’t there for me like I was for him. B-but…” The wave was rising again. “He just left.”
You couldn’t see Chan’s expression, you weren’t sure if you wanted to. You didn’t want to know what anger might look like on such an angelic face. But you could feel it, his jaw clenching, his muscles tensing. You figured he must look something like you had that night in October, struggling to maintain the delicacy in your movements as he revealed things that had filled you with a protective fire.
“He left?” Chan repeated, strained. “He left you like that?”
“Yeah. I-I guess it made him feel worse to be there.”
His hand began to run slowly up and down your back; drawing out your pain and soothing it simultaneously. When he spoke again, his tone was softer. He’d put his anger to the side, just as you had that night. “It must have been lonely for you.”
Lonely. Something else you’d never once considered. Something else that became so obvious only once he’d said it. You’d always been surrounded by people, but they were all flocking to a version of you that didn’t exist. A version you’d let them believe was real, because that was so much easier. Maybe the version of you, in your truest form, had been lonely.
“A little.” You buried your nose into his hoodie. No scent of sweet citrus today, no vanilla cherry blossom. Just him. “I think she’s the only one I could’ve talked to about it. She…she was a lot like you, in some ways.”
Something seemed to dawn on Chan, because he gripped you a little tighter, pulled you impossibly closer. The realization that the universe had taken away the only person you’d ever come to rely on. Of course you would be terrified to ever let anyone take that role again.
“She sounds exactly like the kind of friend you deserve,” his voice rumbled softly where you rested against his chest. “You can tell me about her. About it all. I’m here to listen.”
“I want to,” you took in a sharp inhale. “But I think I’m going to cry.”
“You can do that, too.”
The wave engulfed you in full. For the first time since the day you’d lost her, you allowed yourself to cry over her.
Given how long you’d been holding it in, it didn’t come out nearly as explosive as you’d expected. The tears slipped from your eyes and down your cheeks without a sound, but they came and came and came. Each hot stream was immediately followed by a fresh one, a buildup of all the sorrow you’d kept sealed inside you for the past year and a half, and all the years before that. You didn’t sob or wail or scream out, but with how tightly Chan was holding you, you were certain he felt every tremor, every subdued hiccup, every droplet soaking through his clothes.
“It’ll be okay, one day,” he promised. “You’ll remember all the happy times with her. That’s something you can never lose.”
You hoped it was true. You hoped that one day, you could step off the train in your hometown, take in the pine-tinged summer air, pick a chrysanthemum from that flower stall, and remember her with that warm, glowing ball of light you used to carry in your chest.
Chan didn’t stop rubbing your back the entire time you cried. He didn’t stop enveloping you in his warmth. He didn’t stop humming sweetly in your ear.
He didn’t leave.
The tears eventually stopped flowing, not because it didn’t hurt anymore—you just didn’t think your body could keep up. No amount of tears could ever live up to your grief for her. But your breathing slowed, your shaking steadied, and, as much as your head positively throbbed, a sense of tranquility came with it, one you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt.
“Thank you, Channie,” you mumbled. “Thank you for being here.”
“Thank you for trusting me.”
After everything you’d put him through the past five days, after he’d listened to you so intently and patiently as you poured your heart out, after he’d comforted you when he was still in such a fragile state himself, he was thanking you. It was hopeless. You would fall in love with him over and over again, every moment you spent with him.
“Have you…” he hesitated. “Have you ever thought about talking to someone? About everything?”
“No,” you choked out a sad laugh. “Not really.”
Chan hummed again, quiet. He rested his hand on the back of your head, as if to pull you so far into him that you’d meld fully together.
“You shouldn’t torture yourself anymore,” he murmured.
“Neither should you.”
So immediate, so resolute, it made him stiffen against you.
“My stuff doesn’t compare to any of this.”
“That’s not true. You’ve only told me the half of it, haven’t you?” You curled your fingers a bit tighter around his hoodie. “You've been through so much to become this strong, haven’t you?”
The peaceful drag of his hand finally stopped. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. He'd been holding it together up until now, for you, even if your every tremble and sniffle made his chest ache like your pain was his own.
“Maybe,” he rasped.
“So, let’s work towards something better. Together.”
“Together,” he agreed.
You raised your head at last, squeezing your eyes shut so that any remaining trace of tears trickled free. Chan reached up to swipe the droplets away with his thumb, soaking his bandaid. Still, neither of you let go. There were so many things to let go of, but not each other.
“I finished Placebo,” he said softly. “Do you want to hear it?”
The final promise that had yet to be fulfilled.
“Yeah,” you smiled. Weak, a piteous sight, probably, but genuine. “It makes me happy.”
You were lulled back to that day in April, seated next to Chan in the warm, coffee-infused atmosphere of the library, trying not to fall head over heels in love with him right then and there while he played the instrumental for you with a giddiness so uncontainable that he had to bite down on his fist. As you heard Placebo’s lyrics for the first time—lyrics that had gone through countless rearrangements, rewrites, and delays—you decided it must’ve been fate that it had been brought to completion now, of all times. You felt Chan in every line, every vitalizing beat, every nostalgic melody of the synth. You understood it better now than you ever would have back then.
But just as you’d predicted on that warm day in April, it became your new favorite.
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
The sun had been shining for two days straight. Bright, unobstructed by a single cloud, bathing everything in gold. It filtered through the blinds of your window, casting a delicate pattern of light on Chan’s face and creating quite possibly the most breathtaking view you’d ever seen. And you were warm. Warm against each other.
His curls were free, messy, tousled as you combed through them. You relished in every ringlet dancing between your fingers, in each content sound he let slip when your nails grazed his scalp. You brushed his bangs back, revealing his face to you in full—droopy eyes, big, adorable nose, soft cheeks, faintly freckled skin, every feature illuminated with nowhere to hide—then allowed them to fall into his eyes once more. The dark locks moved as one, a fluffy unit. He wasn’t taking care of them properly. You wanted to wash them again, give them the treatment they deserved.
Chan watched you the entire time you played with his hair, curious, mesmerized. Every flop of his curls against his forehead made him giggle, and so, you did it again and again. You couldn’t help it. After five days without him, without that sweet, harmonious sound, you could listen to him laugh for hours on end and still yearn for more.
But his lips were getting poutier with every card of your fingers, his thighs were shifting beneath you more and more. Impatient, even if he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have to say a thing for you to hear him willing you to do it, begging you to do it. So, you leaned in and kissed him.
He sighed into it, just like he always did. But it was higher in pitch this time, involuntary, a neediness he typically tried to suppress until later down the line when it grew into something unbearable. He was already so vocal, so responsive, but today, he needed you more than ever. Every gap, every crevice between your bodies, he needed filled with you.
His lips consumed your senses, plush and plump and warm. They moved against yours seamlessly, encasing you in his softness, matching your rhythm, every part and pucker. So attentive, even through his haze of longing. It was familiar, the most natural thing in the world, yet still something you’d never get used to—something you never wanted to get used to. How his lips chased yours so insatiably, how they warmed you to your very core.
You were both breathless when you broke apart. That was nothing new either, you would kiss each other until your lungs cried out and then some. With the way Chan hardly pulled back, mouth ghosting just a centimeter away as you panted lightly in unison, you might’ve thought he needed to kiss you more than he needed oxygen. You took his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling delicately just to get a taste of him while the two of you caught your breath.
“Missed you,” he whimpered. “God, I missed you.”
Your chest ached.
“I know, baby.”
Giving his bottom lip a light tug, you released it. You could tell his head was starting to go fuzzy, it was far more important for you to speak clearly. You rested your hand on his curls again, trying to keep yourself composed for his sake—even if your body was screaming for you to take him back and take him back now. “I know. I missed you, too.”
“Don’t leave me, please?” For once, a selfish request.
He pecked the corner of your mouth as he said it, then your jaw, growing less controlled the further down he moved. He was getting lost in you, he wanted to lose himself in you and never find his way out again.
“Never,” you assured him.
“Promise?”
He nuzzled his nose into your neck, lips pressing urgent kisses to every spot of flesh they touched. Gentle and intense, hot and wet. They cooled your skin and set it ablaze, all at once.
You’d gone five days without each other before—even longer, on particularly hectic weeks—but it had never been anything like this. After the emptiness that came in your time apart, the holes that had been left behind where you’d ripped yourself away from him, you wanted every kiss absorbed into your skin, filling them up one by one. You found yourself wondering, for what was neither the first nor the last time, how you’d ever managed to trick yourself into thinking you could be without him. You couldn’t even take him in moderation.
“I promise,” you murmured. “I'm not going anywhere, I promise.”
Chan whined, opening his mouth against the edge of your collarbone, sucking, tongue flickering lightly against it. You allowed him to, petting his head, humming sweetly to him as he covered every inch he roamed with that irresistible heat.
His restlessness beneath you grew more obvious—squirming. He ran his hands up and down your sides, feeling and grabbing and holding onto you like you might disappear if he didn’t. His usual hesitance to touch was nowhere to be found today, far overpowered by his hunger for you. You adjusted your position in his lap, and the beginnings of his desire brushed against your thigh, adorably transparent as always. It made your own self-control slip just a bit. Suddenly, his clothes were forming far too thick of a barrier between you and him for your liking.
You pulled gently at his hair, catching his attention enough for him to lift his head from your neck. His lips were already swelling, deepening from that pretty pink shade into something even more addictive. His eyes were dark, dilated, and so hopeful, like he didn’t already know where this was going. Like he had no idea that you craved him every bit as much as he craved you.
“It’s getting warm, huh, Channie?”
“Mhm.” He rested his cheek against your palm. “You’re so warm.”
“Let’s get you out of this, then.” You reached down to dip your fingers under the hem of his sweater. Reluctant to let go for even a moment, Chan kept his hands close to you, wiggling around as best as he could to help you slip the garment off. He blinked his eyes open once you’d pulled it over his head, catching a glimpse of his reflection in your dresser mirror, directly across from where the two of you sat tangled up in each other. It made his stomach drop a bit. Hair unkempt, eyes sunken, face puffy from what was a concerning lack of rest over the past week, even by his standards.
His gaze averted, flickering right back to you the instant he took in his appearance. Brief as the action was, it wasn’t lost on you, twisting your emotions and resurfacing an idea in your mind—one that had been brewing ever since the day of the showcase, where Chan had avoided looking into the bathroom mirror like his life depended on it.
You cupped his cheeks, pushing them together just enough for his lips to pucker.
“You’re glowing, Channie,” you marveled. “You’re so beautiful.”
He furrowed his brows. “I’m not.”
You pressed your thumbs into his skin, chiding. “The light’s hitting your face so perfectly. You look like an angel.”
Chan’s breath quickened, another deflection building in his throat. You slid your hands down from his face, allowing the golden rays of the sun to fully illuminate him, just as they illuminated the moon.
“I…” he chuckled. “Th-thank you, but I’m a mess.”
You frowned, placing your hands over his. Panic struck when you urged him to unlatch his fingers from your hips, you could tell by the way he gripped you just a bit tighter. It was another pang to your chest. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, that reflex had been ingrained. But you weren’t going to leave him, not even for a second. You kept your hands firmly rested on his shoulders as you hoisted yourself off his lap and settled down right behind him on the mattress. Comforting him with your touch, reminding him that you were there.
You peered into the mirror from over Chan’s shoulder, met with the gorgeous sight of his bare upper half and, unsurprisingly, his head ducked in embarrassment. A mop of dark curls shielding him from himself.
“You should try looking at yourself through my eyes,” you suggested. “You might like what you see.”
He glanced up to meet your stare in the mirror, stubbornly set on ignoring his own figure. You dragged your hands along his tense shoulders, feeling up the warm expanse of skin, the curves of his muscles—taut, yet tender.
“Rather look at you,” he said softly.
Affection swelled inside you, but you were determined to maintain your resolve, even when faced with an opponent as formidable as Chan’s deep-seated inhibitions.
“Why?” You faked a pout. “You’ve already got such a pretty view right here.”
You lowered yourself to brush your lips against his neck, almost completely out of sight. He all but jolted as you pressed an open-mouthed kiss right below his jawline, just as reactive as your first night together. Just as honest and open and just as painfully cute. Your hand slipped over his shoulder to take hold of his chin, tilting it up, exposing his throat fully to you and encouraging him to look at himself.
“You’re a gorgeous boy, Channie.” Your words melted right into his ear. “Everyone can see it.”
You pressed another kiss to the juncture of his shoulder and neck—his weak spot. With how sensitive he was, every part of his body may as well have been his weak spot, but the sound he let out as you grazed your teeth over it was like no other. Sweet and pleading in the back of his throat. It spiked in volume when you closed your mouth over the patch of skin, unconcerned this time over whether or not the mark would show. He wanted it to. And, selfishly, so did you.
“I-I don’t see it,” he stuttered at last. “I can’t.”
Your tsk of disapproval was met with another shaky sigh as you ran your tongue over the fresh lovebite. It soothed his burning skin, fogged up any remaining space in his head. You took a moment to admire the blooming red ring before gliding your lips over to a new spot to sully. He was yours, even untouched, but you wanted to leave traces of yourself everywhere, to make him a part of you in every sense.
“Look at yourself, baby,” you ordered gently.
His Adam's apple bobbed under your mouth, swallowing down his misgivings and finding the courage to comply. Before he even locked eyes with himself in the mirror, his ears were already flushing at their tips.
“There we go. Good boy.”
The praise eased his mind a bit, but you could still feel his heartbeat racing under your kisses, pulsing beneath your traveling fingers. All simply because of the sight of himself—a sight you wanted engraved permanently into your memories, just as badly as he wanted it removed from his.
“Look at all these muscles. So big and strong.” You flattened your palms against his broad shoulders, trailing slowly, appreciatively, down to his biceps. Arms you used to dream about having bulge beneath your hands. Arms you had at your mercy, even in all their strength. Because it was a strength used solely to protect others, never to harm.
You wrapped your fingers around the defined muscles, too large to even close your grip entirely around. They flexed under your touch—a detail you found adorable, strangely enough.
“D-do you…” Chan licked his lips. “D’you like them?”
You smiled against his skin. Such an endearingly Chan question. Setting himself up for a response that he wouldn’t be able to handle; a response that was sure to set his face on fire and put a stammer in his speech.
“I might like them too much,” you admitted. “So gorgeous to look at. So irresistible to touch. So cute when I hold them down,” you mumbled the compliments between each kiss you peppered along his arm veins, protruding from his nervous hold on the sheets. “So safe and reliable. So strong, but so weak for me.”
Chan’s reaction didn’t disappoint, cheeks heating up instantly to match the burn of his ears, dimples making a timid appearance. Anything he attempted to say was lost in the shy, breathless laugh he sputtered out. You knew right about now that he was wishing he had some kind of cap, beanie—anything to pull over his face and hide away. To hear your doting words without having to face himself. Maybe then, he’d believe them.
“You work so hard, don’t you, Channie?” you cooed. “Such a strong, beautiful body for a strong, beautiful boy.”
“A-ah…please.” Chan fought back the impulse to cross his arms over his torso, solely because he didn’t want to lose the feeling of your mouth ravishing them, appreciating every curve. Instead, he squeezed his eyes closed, too flustered to bear. Your hands found his chest without warning, cupping his pecs and making him squeak. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, a split second too late in trying to mask the pitiful noise.
“You have no idea what you do to me.” You dug your nails delicately into his chest, just enough to make him shudder. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”
To that, he didn’t object. “Yours, ‘m all yours.” It was eager, immediate, accompanied by a tilt of his head. Urging you to make it known, to leave more marks of yourself all over his neck until it belonged just as much to you as it did him.
“All mine.” You rolled his nipples delicately between your fingers, earning a broken whimper that made heat pool in your stomach. “My pretty boy.”
Chan jerked forward, every intoxicating word of praise, every drop of your attention making his arousal skyrocket. With his eyes still shut tight, all his other senses were on high alert. The serene sound of your voice reverberated all around him, the deliberate care of your touch sent tremors up his spine. You roamed further down his body, fingertips dancing over his lean abdomen, tracing the outlines of his muscles. His stomach clenched as you did; exhilarated, rising and falling with each rapid breath. He felt so vulnerable—all his pleasure, all his comfort, all his worth in the palm of your hand. More exposed than ever, yet somehow, safer than ever. He could stay blind through it all and trust you to guide him to the other side.
“Open your eyes for me, baby.”
He pressed his lips together, protest cut short when you inched dangerously close to where he needed you most.
“There,” he gasped out. “There, please.”
Mischievously, you pinched the skin right above his waistband, satisfaction rushing through you when he throbbed in the confines of his sweatpants. “Where?” you questioned, deceptively innocent. “You have to look and see.”
You drifted further down, skimming the softness of his hips and stroking his tensed thigh. “Here?”
“No,” he huffed, face scrunching in frustration. “Please, ‘s too embarrassing.”
Your hum was full of sympathy, but your hand said otherwise, moving along his inner thigh and giving it a light squeeze. “How about here?”
You knew what was coming by now. So, you snaked your legs around his waist from behind, prying his thighs apart before they could clamp together reflexively. The added contact only made Chan’s composure weaken further, a low groan spilling out of him. Practically every part of your body was pressed against his—head tucked into his neck, chest rubbing against his back, hands grasping him wherever they slid, thighs resting on his—but it wasn’t enough. He needed more before he crumbled completely against you. Or, rather, he needed more to crumble completely against you.
His eyes snapped open at last, hazy, disoriented. He blinked a few times to readjust his vision, taking in the view before him. His puffed, rosy cheeks, his neck, painted with deep, crimson marks, his arms and torso, lined with the faint drag of your nails. Every part of himself that he chose to focus on was evidence of you on his body.
“Beautiful,” you said firmly.
“Ah…th-thank you.”
His reflection peered back at him, nowhere to hide. But with it, he found his other reflection, one he could admire so wholeheartedly, one he could never run out of things to love about. When at your side, maybe he didn’t look so bad.
Your lips were by his ear again, he felt your breath fanning softly next to it, saw your mouth opening unexpectedly close to his piercing—so close that he thought you may take it between your teeth again. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain himself if you did.
“Where do you want me to touch you, Channie?” you whispered.
His stare dropped to your hand, more than ready for any excuse to redirect his attention from himself. You rubbed gentle circles into his thighs, traveling upwards at an agonizingly slow place. Chan sucked in through his teeth, a fresh wave of embarrassment passing over him when his dick twitched again, as if it was crying out the answer for him.
“My baby’s so shy,” you remarked playfully. “But your body isn't.”
He squirmed between your legs with a sound of pure helplessness, too worked up to handle your teasing properly—not that he ever really handled it well, in the first place.
“P-please, need you so bad.”
You softened. “I’m here.”
His eyes followed your movements in a glimmer of hope, fixated on your hand like a puppy would with its favorite treat. When you came to brush over his bulge at last, his hips shot forward, pressing into your palm in a way that made your stomach flutter, and his twist with pleasure. He didn’t even have the chance to feel humiliated about it, not when you finally curled your fingers around him like he’d been longing for so intently, so fiercely that even thinking straight had become a challenge for him.
“Is this it?” you asked sweetly.
“Mmph, yes. There, please.”
You gave him a squeeze, feeling up the shape of his length through his sweatpants. So hard without a single touch to it, more than ready for you—desperate for you. It made the ache between your own legs take over in full. Restraint slipping, you dipped your fingers below his waistband to tug his sweatpants off. Chan reacted immediately, scrambling to raise himself from the mattress just enough for you to slide them down along with his underwear. You couldn’t even find the patience in you to remove the garments entirely, instead letting them rest halfway down his legs.
Chan’s gaze flickered back to you in the mirror, just in time to catch the way your eyes gleamed at the sight of his bare body. Length glistening with precum, pressed and dripping against his stomach. Milky thighs, dotted with delicate moles you could kiss endlessly. But you wanted to leave a different kind of mark on them, today. You ran your hands along his flesh—gentle, pacifying—then dragged your nails back up all at once, raking his skin and leaving a trail of pale lines that quickly deepened in shade. Chan inhaled sharply, throwing his head back against your shoulder, muscles constricting under your fingers.
“Pretty little thing,” you crooned. “You’re unreal.”
There was no time for him to recover—not from the delicious sting on his thighs, not from your doting words—before you took his cock into your hold at last. It sent a ripple of heat all throughout his body, almost enough to make him unravel right then and there.
You gave him a few careful pumps, delighted by the sheer amount of wetness that had dribbled from his tip, allowing you to move with ease. Using your free hand, you nudged his head from your shoulder to direct him back to the mirror. Despite knowing full well that the visual he’d be met with would turn his brain to mush, he obeyed. He would do anything you so much as suggested in that moment.
“You’re just like that moon you love so much,” you murmured. “You know that, Channie?”
It pierced through the lust occupying his thoughts, pulling him out from his haze just enough to string together a feeble response. “What—ah. What d’you mean?”
He tried not to let the sight of your fingers, sticky with his arousal, gliding up and down his most intimate spot, twisting and teasing in all the right ways like you knew his body better than he did, distract him from what you said next. If there was anything to focus on, it was you.
“The moon can only see itself reflected in the water.” You swirled your thumb along his slit, using your other hand to run the pads of your fingers tenderly along his cheek. The combination was enough to make him dizzy. So much love, so much pleasure. He didn’t know how to handle it. He would never know how to handle it. “It doesn’t see its own beauty or light. Just the way it gets distorted by the ripples all around it.”
Before he could even fully process the comparison, Chan’s eyes began to water. This time, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was happiness imbued in those tears. A happiness the both of you still needed adjusting to.
“So, look at yourself clearly, now,” you encouraged, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Look at your reflection when it isn’t broken.”
It may have been too much for him at once; such adoration amidst everything else he was experiencing. The stimulation to every last one of his nerve endings, the bliss consuming his body and mind, robbing him of any coherent thought. But you needed to say it just as much as he needed to hear it. You wanted all the pleasure, all the love he felt in that moment to be associated with himself.
“O-oh, wow,” he choked out. “I…I don’t…”
I don’t deserve this. You could hear it on the tip of his tongue, clear as day. But he was too awestruck to protest, too awestruck to even speak. You felt a tinge of protectiveness—he was so far gone.
“D-dunno what to s-say,” he stammered. You knew it was taking every ounce of his strength not to bury his face into the crook of your neck, to let himself go completely and forget about anything that wasn’t you.
“It’s okay, Channie. You don’t have to say anything. Just look.”
You studied him in the mirror, nearly melting when you noticed him blinking the few, fragile droplets from his eyes—listening diligently to you, clearing his vision from any water that might distort it. He drank in his reflection in full, stiff, uneasy, but relaxing slightly between your legs when you pressed another kiss to his cheek.
“So pretty, every inch of you.” Your hand resumed its stroking, sliding down to the base of his length, cupping him gently. “Even prettier when you’re filling me up.”
“Oh my gosh,” he gasped, jerking in your grip. Even with the mirror there to guide him, he struggled to coordinate his hand movements, pawing aimlessly behind him to find some part of you to grab onto, some part of you to anchor himself with. “Please, please. Wanna feel you.”
“I know, baby boy,” you shushed him. “You’re dripping so much. Poor thing.”
You dragged your index finger along the underside of his cock one last time before pulling away with a light flick. Chan barely stopped himself from surging forward, chasing your hand like an instinct. That, coupled with the mewl he let out when he registered the sudden loss of your body heat around him, tugged at your heart just as much as it spiked your adrenaline. You made quick work of removing your clothes, well aware of his eyes, wide as moons, watching you undress through the mirror, waiting for you to return to him. Keen, yearning, but obedient above all else.
He reached for you the instant you settled back in his lap, hovering over your waist for just a second before ultimately latching on, skin on skin, a whole new layer of heat. You took his length back into your grasp, turning your body so that you were both facing your dresser mirror. You could hear Chan’s breathing pick up behind you, feel his chest expanding against your back.
“See that, Channie?” You dragged the head of his dick along your folds, coating it with your own wetness. “Just looking at you gets me like this.”
If all you’d said wasn’t enough, maybe the physical proof of his effects on you would help do the trick. A sweet, desperate vocalization, so rife with need that you could practically taste it, was all he could manage. It morphed into a moan as you sank down on him all at once—loud, absolutely shameless. You would never think it came from the boy who couldn’t even catch a glimpse of himself without being reduced to a flustered wreck. Just as your heat engulfed him, his engulfed you. It came more intensely than ever before, more staggering than even your first time together, bolting through your veins and making you suppress a gasp. You clenched around his cock, relishing in the feeling of him pressed so snugly inside you, as close as physically possible. So comforting in its familiarity, so exhilarating in its return. It was something you could only describe as relief, relief in the warmth, the fullness, the completion you brought to each other.
Chan’s head fell forward with a whimper, chin resting against your shoulder, clinging to you so tightly that it was difficult to move. You weren’t even sure if he was aware of it, a subconscious desire to stay buried inside you, not wanting to lose the security of your walls wrapped around him for even a second.
“Missed you so much,” he slurred into your skin. “W-wanna stay like this forever.”
You reached back to cradle his head, running your fingers through his hair. “I missed you too, angel. Missed the way you fill me up so perfectly.”
You lifted yourself until just the head of his cock was left pulsing inside you. When you noticed Chan’s blissed out expression in the mirror—eyes fluttered shut, lips swollen against your shoulder, eyebrows knitted together—a golden opportunity presented itself. It took him a second or two to realize that you weren’t sliding back down, another soft plea rumbling in his throat, vibrating into your skin. You gave his scalp an affectionate scratch, prompting him to look. This time, he listened without question, driven solely by the need to feel your wet heat around him again.
“Good boy.” You took him back inside immediately, not keen on being apart for much longer, either. He gritted his teeth as you did, trying his best to keep his gaze leveled with his reflection for you, for your satisfaction, for your approval. But nothing could’ve prepared him for what came out of your mouth next.
“See how perfect you look when you’re inside me, Channie? See all the pretty faces you make? My pretty baby, feeling so good. Making me feel so good.”
At that, the precious little that had remained of Chan’s composure fizzled out completely. His hands flew up to cover his face, hot with shame, burning with arousal. The filthy sight of him pushing in and out of you, the wet sounds filling his ears, the teasing lilt of your voice. It was all too much. He shoved his nose into his palms, letting out a cute, mortified wail that echoed throughout the bedroom, mixing with your breathless giggles.
Even as you continued riding him, he stayed hidden behind the safety net of his fingers, shyness turned back up to full blast with no signs of disappearing. It only added to the pressure building up inside your abdomen to see him so overwhelmed, each muffled grunt and soft whimper of his spurring you on. Your words from earlier rang truer than ever—he was so weak for you.
You allowed him to stay that way for the sake of his sanity, petting his head with a gentleness that contrasted the steady pace of your bouncing. It wasn’t until you felt his cock begin to jerk inside you that he pulled his hands away from his face with a choked noise, reaching out for you once more.
“Can’t take it—mmph—‘m getting close! ‘M s-sorry!”
His fingers dug deep into your flesh, igniting heat at every point of contact. You basked in the feeling for as long as you could, then halted your movements altogether, pulling off of him in one fell swoop. The loss made both of your bodies cry out in protest. Chan hiccuped pathetically, mouth falling open, confused blinks reflecting in the mirror when your softness, your warmth, escaped him without warning.
He trembled underneath you, tugging at your waist as he tried to get a handle on his voice. With care, you turned in his lap to come face to face with him again, moving slowly enough as not to break his hold on you, not even for a moment.
“Did I…” he panted. “Did I do something wrong?”
You brushed your thumb over his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that had begun to accumulate. “No, baby. You’re doing so well for me,” you assured him. “But you wanna finish together, don’t you?”
It was almost funny, in a sense, how the way Chan’s face lit up—how his features flooded with pure delight—made your heart flutter more than anything else. More than any irresistible sound he let out, more than any way he let you use his body to your heart’s content. You were just as captivated, just as endeared, just as hopelessly taken with him as that night in May, walking home alongside him under the moonlight and knowing your fate was sealed.
“Y-yeah, together. Together, please.” He leaned forward, nose finding your neck, taking in your scent. “Can we stay like this? Wanna see you.”
Your hand found his length again, wrapping just tight enough around it to make him jolt. “Hm…you can see me in the mirror though, can’t you?”
“Please,” he repeated, pouty lips brushing against your skin. “Only wanna see you. Need you.”
You relented. Regardless of how badly you wanted to get the message across to him, regardless of how addictive you found the sight of him on display in ways you’d never seen before, you knew he’d just about reached his limit. And, well, maybe you needed him too. Needed to watch him fall apart right before your very eyes, needed to have every bit of your skin pressed against his, needed to kiss him when it all became too much for his foggy mind.
“You’re so cute. I’ve got you, baby.” You tilted his chin up with your free hand, half-lidded doe eyes finding yours. Knowing him, the eye contact wouldn’t last long before he was ducking away again. So, you took advantage of it, realigning him with you and watching his features flood with pleasure as you sank down on him once more. He had to stop himself from bucking up into you, body stiffening with effort, a breathy, grateful moan, nothing short of angelic, slipping past his lips.
“You’ve gotta hold on for a bit, alright?” You gave his shoulders a squeeze. “Let me know when you’re close. Can you do that for me, Channie?”
His arms wrapped around you in full, no longer content with just his hands on your waist. “Mhm.” He barely mustered up a nod, pulling himself closer to you in a way that burrowed his cock impossibly deeper inside. “Promise. W-wanna make you feel good, too. Wanna be a good boy for you.”
“My good boy,” you cooed. “See how well you fit inside me? See how good you make me feel?” You clenched around him as you dragged yourself up his length, snapping back down with a delicious speed. “You were made for me.”
“M-made for you,” he agreed, head falling forward to nestle into your chest. “Ah—fuck! You’re so warm. Feels s-so good.”
You dug your nails into his muscles, using your grip on him for leverage as you began working your way up to a pace even more vigorous than before. Immediately, the new angle took a toll on Chan. It allowed the head of his length to rub directly against your sweet spot with each rock of your hips, making the both of you shudder. You could feel his mouth fall open against you to let out an especially sharp cry, nibbling mindlessly at your flesh, matching your rhythm.
“Y-you’re mine, too, right? Gonna stay with me?” he babbled into your skin. “Please, tell me you’ll stay. I’ll be good for you. P-please.”
The coil in your chest twisted just as tight as the one in your abdomen. You knew his thoughts were muddled, ridding him of any filter and making him ramble in the heat of the moment. But you also knew it stemmed from a very real fear, one that you would never feed into again.
“You’re already so good for me, Channie. You’re perfect. My perfect boy,” you spoke as steadily as your erratic movements and shaky breath would allow, ensuring that each reassurance found him. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m here ‘cause I love you.”
Chan whined, ringing out loud and clear even through the softness of your chest. “Love you. I love you so much.” He nuzzled further into you, strengthening his hold around you, hands pawing at your sides. The words seemed to have opened the floodgates within him, like he’d been waiting to hear them—the catalyst for him to lose himself in you completely. “Love you, love you, love you. ‘M almost th-there.”
This time, there was a short delay before you could bring yourself to stop. You didn’t want to let go of him again, no amount of time would be tolerable enough. So, you stayed perfectly still, indulging selfishly in the feeling of him inside you without snapping the final thread just yet. Chan lifted his head, disoriented, biting down on his bottom lip to fight back a pathetic groan as his climax was denied once more. You could feel his thighs quivering under yours, his arms flexing around you, his cock twitching wildly against your walls. Every bit of his energy was being expended to hold himself together, to endure it however many times you saw fit.
“You’re doing so well, baby boy. Lasting so long for me.” You twirled a lock of his damp curls around your finger, hoping to keep him grounded enough to hang on just a bit more.
“Y-yeah? ‘M doing okay?” He brushed his nose against yours, a silent plea that you understood all too well by now. “Making you feel good?”
“So good, Channie. I’m getting close, too.” You closed the gap between you and him before his wordless request became another whine, taking his swollen lips between yours. They were hot, pillowy, unbelievably wet. You tried your best not to flutter around him, but it was impossible not to when he was humming so eagerly into your mouth, kissing without an ounce of self-control left in his system. His movements were sloppy, uncoordinated, but each messy slide of his lips sent another jolt through your senses. The hug he’d enveloped you in loosened at last, hands wandering obsessively over your body until he found your chest. He paused for a moment, mumbling out something that made drool drip from the corner of his mouth.
“Mmph, c-can I? Wanna touch, please.”
Even now, he was clinging to the last few shreds of his rationality for you, thinking of you above all else when the promise of his climax was dangling right in front of his face. It took the arousal coursing through your veins to a whole new degree, so intensely that you had to stop yourself from sinking your teeth into his lips out of raw affection.
“Go ahead, baby,” you murmured.
Chan cupped the soft flesh in an instant, sighing like he was slipping into a dream. His kisses became near-frantic, so drunk on you that he had trouble staying confined to just your lips, landing on the corner of your mouth, all over your cheeks, pecking and sucking any spot he could. Despite that, his hands were gentle, kneading at your flesh in a delicate back and forth pattern that calmed him and kindled a fresh warmth in your body. He was doing so well for you, trying his absolute best for you. You wanted to give him everything. You wanted to take his heart that he offered up to you so willingly, and give him yours in return.
“Ready to keep going, Channie? Can you take it?”
“Y-yeah. Yes, please,” he breathed. “Gonna do it for you. I’ll do anything.”
“My sweet boy.” You cupped his cheeks, steadying his clumsy kisses, but holding him just close enough to keep him content. He hissed softly as you began moving again, rolling your hips down so that his length grinded against your walls, stimulating every nerve-ending inside you. The heat building between your bodies became much harder to ignore, filling the air around you and seeping into your skin. It was heavy, thick, but it made you feel lighter than ever. Your high was drawing near, and, judging by the way Chan’s hips stuttered with less and less restraint, you knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer either.
The pads of his fingers dug into your breasts just as he let out a warning moan. “Oh God, ‘m sorry. Please, don’t wanna finish without you. So—ngh—close.”
You grinded down against him, spine tingling when Chan yelped in response, so sharp it almost sounded like he was in pain. “Mm, just a little more, baby boy. You can do that for me, can’t you?”
“I-I…oh, please,” he swallowed hard, eyebrows scrunching together as you dragged yourself all the way up his length, mind-numbingly slow. “Yeah, I can do it. I’ll be g-good.”
Your hands traveled up to his hair, tangling in his curls and pulling at them just hard enough to make goosebumps rise at his nape. “Channie listens so well,” you purred. “You were made to please, hm? Good boy, good boy.”
If your honeyed praises weren’t enough to push him alarmingly close to the edge, the way you squeezed around him as you sank back down, wrapping him in your heat all the way to his base surely was. Chan surged forward with a sob, head falling into your shoulder, fingers grasping at you helplessly.
“Your good boy,” he whimpered. “Please, please, ‘m not gonna l-last.”
You cradled the back of his head. “It’s too much, huh angel?” you pouted. “You can let it all out, now.”
“Together?” You could hear the strain in his voice, mere seconds away from losing it completely. “Together—ah—right?”
“Together.”
At that, you gave one last sloppy glide along his length, snapping the tension in both of you at once. Chan cried out, teeth grazing against your shoulder, hips surging up to push as far into you as your bodies would allow. A delicious heat seared through your senses, only amplified by the flood of his release coating your insides, stronger than ever from how long he’d been holding back. You tried to keep your own sounds under control, far more entranced by the ones slipping from his trembling lips. Mewls of your name, slurring out how much he loved you, chanting his gratitude like a mantra as you guided him through your shared high.
Minutes or hours could’ve passed and you wouldn’t have known the difference—you wouldn’t have minded either way. Eventually, the shivers in Chan’s body faded out, his panting evened into softer, more peaceful breaths. When he finally found it in him to pull his head from the comfort of your neck, droplets had begun to form in his eyes again. Not enough to spill down his cheeks quite yet, just enough to glaze his pupils over with happy tears, just enough to make them shine.
Your fingers danced absentmindedly in his hair, serving as a different pleasure from the kind that had just rocked your bodies. “You did so well for me, Channie. I’m proud of you.”
He blinked up at you. Slow, lazy, a dreamy smile tugging at his lips. “You’re s’ beautiful.”
“Sweet baby,” you murmured. “I hope you think the same when you see yourself.”
Anything he planned to say trailed off when you reached down for his hand, bringing it up to your lips. He was still buried deep inside you, hypersensitive to every little movement, every little touch, but he did his best not to squirm as you pressed kisses to his fingertips, paying extra attention to the fading cut on his thumb. The pain was long gone, now. Still, it made a few glistening tears trickle out delicately. You kissed them away, too.
“You’re still my favorite reflection.”
Shy, barely audible, but spoken with all the sincerity in the world. Butterflies erupted in your stomach. It was a start, at least. Maybe the parts of yourselves that you loved in each other, you could eventually come to love in yourselves.
“Can we—?”
“Stay like this?” you finished for him, a smile creeping up on your lips. “Yeah, we can.”
He bumped his forehead against yours, letting out an exhausted giggle, eyes crinkling and dimples flashing. He was glazed with sweat, skin sticky, damp curls pressed to his forehead, but he shone with every ray of light that slipped through your blinds.
The urge to check on him, to fuss over him, to care for him, still nagged at your mind. That was something that would never change. You wanted to clean him up, wash away the soreness and soothe the marks all over his body. But he didn’t need any of that right now. He just needed you. That was it. From day one, it had been as simple as that. You didn’t need to do anything. You didn’t need to prove anything. You just needed each other. Maybe, you could stay wrapped up in the mess you’d left on each other’s bodies for a while—bask in it, even.
Chan’s innocent nuzzles inevitably led to another kiss. Soft, but just as hungry for you, just as desperate to stay immersed in this moment. You shifted slightly on his lap, making your heart jump and making him jolt against you. The poorly concealed sound that built up in his throat might’ve made you giggle if you didn’t need him just as much. No more limits. No more restraint. You didn’t have to worry about taking him in moderation.
You wanted each other endlessly. You fell into each other again and again.
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
A sudden buzz against your nightstand cut through the tranquil rhythm of breath that filled your bedroom, pulling you from the haze of sleep that had been pricking at your mind’s edges. It was a brief, low vibration, but still loud enough for you to worry that it may wake the boy in your arms. For once, you allowed yourself to be unavailable, not daring to disturb his peace for even a moment to roll over and read the notification. You already had a good idea of who it might be, anyway: Changbin, triple checking what time you’d all be meeting up for jjajangmyeon on Friday. The thought alone made fondness bubble up inside you, lips curling into a private smile. After four years of tardiness, absences, and missed deadlines throughout his academic career, this was the one thing he was determined to be on time for.
Graduation was two days away. You and Changbin’s class ceremony would take place in the early morning, while Chan’s was scheduled for later that same night. Timed seamlessly with the rise of the sun and the moon. The finish line that you’d been terrified of for so long was a mere few steps away, but when viewed up close, it wasn’t quite so daunting anymore. Even if the path you walked next was still unfamiliar, uncarved by anyone before you to clear the way, you knew who you’d be walking it with, and you knew where it would lead you. You’d walk side by side with Chan, towards something better.
His family had flown in from Australia earlier in the week to visit, to attend his ceremony—to celebrate him. An occasion that was just as precious to them even with the bitter memories that surrounded it, even in its delay, even if Chan had spent the past two years of his life convincing himself otherwise. He’d been a nervous wreck before leaving to meet with them when they first arrived, you could see it in every awkward shift of his feet, every subconscious rub of his neck, every unnecessary adjustment of his clothes. However much you’d tried to comfort him beforehand, however many grateful smiles he’d given you, you’d known that there was no real way to ease his apprehension. He hadn’t seen them in person for over a year, and, even prior to that, it’d been two years since he’d had an interaction with them that wasn’t engulfed in shame.
But when he’d returned, he had a smile that almost reached his eyes; hopeful. It hadn’t been perfect, everything wasn’t okay yet, but the seed had at least been planted for it to blossom one day. He’d missed them so much. It made your heart sing and ache at the same time. You only wished that he’d believed he deserved to see them before now—to stand in front of them as the son and brother that they loved, not as the collection of faults and disappointments he saw himself as.
Though, you supposed you weren’t exactly one to talk. Your family would be coming into the city on the day of your ceremony as well, a very blatant reminder that you had yet to visit your hometown again like you’d promised them over the summer.
You weren’t quite ready to return yet. But just like Chan, you would be, one day. And you would try again. Of all the things you’d come to learn in your time with him, the value of upholding a promise was undoubtedly the most important one. You weren’t going to run. You would try as many times as it took until your home felt like home again, until you remembered all the good times, until the memories laced in every crack and crevice didn’t add to the sting in your skin, but eased it.
You eyed Chan’s form through the darkness, nestled against you with his head buried in the softness of your chest—sound asleep, for once.
Your arm was still draped over his waist, lingering at the small of his back where you’d been rubbing as he drifted off. In turn, his muscular arm was wrapped securely around you. Holding each other, protecting each other. An endless cycle of drawing strength from one another without growing any weaker in the process. You could give him everything, and not lose a single drop of yourself.
For the first time, you could hold someone in your arms without that underlying sense of dread spreading its roots in your mind. For the first time, your heart was still. A calm and clear surface of a lake, one that you hoped could reflect Chan’s light in its truest, most unbroken form.
You were no longer held together by a butterfly bandage, an ill-fitted adhesive, forcibly closing your wounds without giving them the chance to heal properly. At last, you were stitched up. Stitched up by the very same thread of fate that had brought you and Chan together.
You didn’t have to ask to know that he felt the same. You could feel his emotions like they were your own, after all.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
My Romeo
(angst to fluff) H.H x she/her
---------------------------------------------
"I love you, I dream of you
I miss...... you...
"Miss" has a strong meaning,
but also,
it has the most regretful meaning for my heart,
but,
but, when I think of you...
It becomes the most painful thing I have ever experienced.
I miss your smell, I miss your eyes
I miss your smile. I miss you biting me
I miss your way of walking.
I miss.
I miss you, my love.
Please, I'm begging, come back to me,
and I will treat you how you truly deserve, my queen.
Rain was pouring on her now-soaked running body, running as fast as she could possibly run, as fast as her poor legs could go, and if they would give up on her in the middle of the way. She would go on four legs if needed to.
Regret was washing over her poor broken heart that still held hope, hope that maybe she will get to him in time. The train would need to live in 20 minutes, but she was 40 minutes away from the train station.
she sobbed and cussed, and cussed, and cussed, more, and mor every time while gasping for air, feeling her lungs on fire from the cold oxygen and poor rapid breathing, cries and rapid breathing could be heard from the running girl.
"Please, please my love stay, wait for me!" she screamed as if he could hear her, she hoped that at least god would.
when she arrived smiling thinking she will see him, scanning her surroundings...she saw... no one
broken, the girl threw herself on her sore knees and started crying and sobbing.
3 years later
She still longed for her dearest, her only hope of love, leaving her when she realized what love was.
easily said, love left her.
Now she was at an art museum looking through some of her most famous paintings.
"The lost soulmate"
and
"painful love"
smiling with sorrow and pain she continued to walk around looking at her paintings, feeling even more sad after seeing many people understanding her pain, well at least trying to understand. She continued to look through people taking photos and sometimes talking in a group about her paintings.
smiling slightly she started to go outside, wanting to go home to her art studio and continue to paint her most unique painting, that after 4 years it still wasn't done, feeling like today was her last day, she wanted to end her day after finishing the painting
"my Romeo"
when she wanted to open the door she was too lost in her thoughts and bumped into someone. when she opened her mouth to excuse herself, she saw... saw those dark brown eyes she dearly missed, and those plump lips. With her hands on her moth she started crying as he hugged her.
"you did not come after me, my queen."
him
she hugged him as tightly as she could, scared it was one of her many sad dreams.
"I-I searched for you, I ran to find you- But when I got there you left I lost you for four years, four years of hell!!!" she sobbed and sobbed as he softly dragged her from the front of the museum door. Kissing her head softly and massaging her back while crying too, he said the sentence that she always wanted but never knew needed.
"Marry me, so that I will be stuck to you for life, my love"
she kept sobbing while nodding and saying yes repeatedly, still not letting him go as he took her bridal style and went to his car and drove to her apartment. of course after hard convincing of her letting him go.
That night was the first night after 4 years of making love with anyone. both loved one another too much, and where so broken that they did not feel the need for sex.
that is how strong love can be
that night was the night when both of them healed slowly with tinny steps and their poor heart.
master list 📃
comment if you want part two
feel free to request
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞
───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+, mni DNI!
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Breaking the rules and going to hunt to quench his thirst, Sunghoon ends up following the fine lady he stumbles upon, not knowing she owns the other part of his torn off red string.
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, vampire!Hoon, unprotected s3x, hard angst, neck biting, blood sucking, biting and marking (a lot), scratching, kissing (french kissing), oral (f. receiving), fingering, tongue fcking (???).
TW: s3lf-harm, suicidal thoughts.
𝐖𝐂: 4.7k
𝐀/𝐍: Surprise, a Hoon fic! Yes, it is official everyone, from this day I'm writing for this handsome man as well.
Please leave any sort of feedback: reblogging and commenting is the best for me, so let me know!!
───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────
It wasn't Sunghoon's turn to hunt yet. However, the urge was irresistible, the minutes turning into agonizing days. The longing to acquire a hopeless victim and engrave his ador into them persisted, enriching whenever a faint droplet of blood caught up to his sense. It was unavoidable, leaving traces of claws in his heart, producing pain. Everything turned into a mold of nothing, the surroundings attaining the stain of torment.
It aggravated each second, fists desperately attempting to deflect the insufficient hunger. The pointy canines began itching and jerking, irritation supplementing without any tranquilizer. They kept pushing out of those swollen gums, growing in size from the lack of satisfaction. His tongue swirled around the area, soothing the mounting agitation.
The sounds of chattering and laughter in the vintage banquet began stirring his vain attempts at restraining, gaze so sharp it could slice through anyone any second.
A wedding invitation was a forbidden chance to find prey, studying the unfamiliar faces in despair. Noble individuals filled the room, all wearing expensive garments to appeal extravagant, showing off their woeful status. Their movements and words followed social etiquette, never going off the line. The conversations turned monotonous, appearing bland and dull like their looks.
None of them managed to satisfy his requirements, his pernicketiness disallowing fulfillment. The person had to be with class and high maintenance, elegant beauty with great modesty, and words lascivious like their bewitching gaze. Every vampire had their preferences, some not even bothering to create a perfect type. For Sunghoon, it seriously mattered. Otherwise, the flavor would rot in his mouth, disintegrating with each intake.
Over the years, his abilities enhanced, allowing him to discover the perfect woman without engaging. They amplified during nutrition deficiency, aiding him to find the right one quickly.
The reflection in the mirror revealed the darkness enclosing his pupils, a tint of spark echoing back. They expanded at the sight of the female passing by, the hem of her beige satin dress grazing against his pale knuckles. He looked up, watching the slender figure gently escorting themselves away from the unknown danger, hips gracefully matching the rhythm of the clacking sounds. The long black hair calmly parted, swooning the gazes around effortlessly.
The ravenous one stood up, realizing she was the one, following the steps of sand-colored scarpins with the sounds of black leather gibsons. Her scent had already carved into the depths of his mind, and there was no going back from it even if he tried.
His eyes hungrily darted over the enticing body ahead, the soft fabric delicately tracing their curves, covering the beautiful legs underneath. Merely thinking about obtaining the taction exasperated the compulsion within, sinking the teeth into the glacé skin gradually, acquiring the faint taste of the palatable delicacy.
It drove him over the edge, the color of his veins dimming. The faint floral scent strangled his senses despite the safe distance, tightening around his throat. Without realizing it, the tint in his soulless eyes dyed crimson, pursuing the target in utter desire.
They turned left, exiting the building and disappearing into the enthusiastic crowd entering inside. Sunghoon pushed through, fixed look focusing on her, unintentionally trying to escape his presence. There was no pullout anymore. His system only acknowledged hers, everyone else turning into sheer black silhouettes. Her merlot outline was distinguished, not managing to lose his tail. It challenged him more, feet clicking against the pavement in a hurry to reach the unknown lady.
The night sky, painted with stars, shone on their path, one heading home while the other pursued them. Sunghoon smiled at the view, finding the turn of events amusing. The road seemed so familiar, his body already calculating the route ahead, verifying it with each turn. His brows furrowed, tilting his head at the signs of the passing streets, all representing a lost memory in his recollection. He brought his attention back onto the female, the tickle around his limbs intensifying.
His movements weakened the closer he got to her, the strength in his muscles deteriorating. The disfavored burning sensation ran through his flesh, advancing at the shortening stretch. Sunghoon's vision ignited at the sight of the cursed protection hanging from the handbag, warding off the temptation running in his cells.
The simple yet powerful component stood in his way from reaching his yearning.
"I knew you wouldn't keep your word," her luscious voice pronounced in the dark, running her hand through her silky hair. Sunghoon gritted his aching teeth, begging for the obstacle to redeem itself. He darted at her, playing with the key chain, engraving pang into his enfeebled body.
"Y/N," his breath panted, the heaviness in his chest deepening at the presence of that banished segment. The name slipped out without acknowledging, not apprehending the origin of the information. Sunghoon gaped in complete confusion, struggling to understand why he knew her name or how she knew about him. Her chuckle emancipated, walking towards the contemporary house at the end of the road.
That place.
His orbs studied the residence in puzzlement, looking for a proper explanation for the knowledge of it. Out of all the places, it guided him here, right next to her.
I-I have seen it before.
The coldness of the autumn twilight breezed through, the withered leafs decorating the empty lane, the season where everything started piecemeal dying. They left the core of comfort and ended up alone on the ground, ending their destined journey there. It portrayed a part of Sunghoon that led him here in the first place, a haunting reality he could never run from.
The cursed lifestyle in which he lost everyone, even the person he loved more than himself, scaring away anyone who looked into his empty orbs. It was an unavoidable cycle, evoking a dynasty of ungratefulness. A place where his needs were more important than the lives of foolish humans, putting himself in the first place. He would do anything to go back in time and fix everything, avoid the trauma and successfully protect his lover from himself. She was the living soul he didn't have, the beating heart of his mortal one.
"I'm sorry I broke my promise," he choked out, falling onto his knees, the asphalt burying into them.
"I never wanted to hurt you," his cry echoed in her ears, a sound she thought he could never produce. Her jaw quivered at the sentence, teeth clacking against each other in an uncontrollable pattern.
He remembered.
He remembered what had happened on that awful day and what he had done to her. He remembered how he summoned to her house without realizing his doings, taking advantage of her trust and love.
No, she wasn't just anyone.
She was the missing puzzle he had been looking for for an eternity, the lost memory failing to erase all of it. She was the lost part he had been trying to uncover to put the pieces back together.
"I-" he recalled the curse that had taken over him, changing into an entirely different being, scaring the one person he had. He had become unrecognizable, chasing after thirst and energy, nothing stopping him in his way from reaching it.
At first, he went around to locate someone holding his subsistence, not thinking twice before attacking them, sucking out every last droplet. He was used to doing it for years, following the same protocol when his turn arrived. No emotions were ever attached, simply chasing after his thirst and completing the deed without looking back. It never mattered to him whom he was with, entirely focusing on the content and its quality.
That was all until he met her, the gold-hearted fairy who would help anyone in need, including him, a condemned essence. A simple exchange turned into great interest, following the attractive woman around once the sun had fallen. He turned into a bat and entered through the open bathroom window, presenting himself with an unannounced house tour. Whenever the lights turned off behind the curtains, he left to his domain, thoroughly ensuring her safety. He became like a bodyguard, checking up on her every time.
Instead of getting caught, he got caught up in his feelings, struggling to read his views. The only image was her and that generous smile. Getting the courage to walk up and greet her after weeks of visiting her without her knowledge was a tough decision. Carrying it out was even more challenging, knocking at the door as his whole body shook, nervous not to mess it up.
Eight months later, Sunghoon became a fellow owner, somehow managing to move in with her. He didn't know what it was about him she liked, not seeing a reason for becoming her boyfriend. There was only death surrounding his circle, pushing anyone who entered into a well of hopelessness. He didn't believe it. He thought he was only making her life more complicated, her family warning her from him, constantly trying to persuade her to leave him.
The last straw was when they visited her and threatened him, testing every possibility to save their daughter from a wretch like him. However, she didn't listen to them. Instead, she put them out of her life and the friends who didn't support her decision. She ended up all alone with him by her side, the impact shattering her world.
Sunghoon thought they could be happy. That he could make her happy if he tried hard enough. Unfortunately, the more he stayed, the more pain he caused, getting rid of all her close relationships. She reassured him it was alright, that she loved him, showcasing the loving side Sunghoon never merited. The lifestyle he thought he had fled from haunted him yet again, leaping onto her for a change.
Her mood began changing, the happy smile turning into exhausted yawns, pain and illnesses twisting around her ankles, latching the bad karma he was supposed to pay for on her. She never complained or whined, still focusing on him and his well-being while silently suffering.
Nonetheless, Sunghoon knew about everything. Her restless sleep, the numerous nightmares, and faints, napping all the time to regenerate and prepare for another day of demanding work. He wasn't blind, punishing himself for causing all of this by cutting, licking the wounds before she could notice. Deep down, he knew he had to put a stop to all of this and leave. Allow her to live a peaceful life without a bother.
He had to divest the burden.
Divest himself before it was too late.
"Forgive me for not protecting you from myself. Forgive me for causing you pain and fear. I didn't deserve your love and trust. I didn't deserve the happiness you granted me, the laughs and smiles, the warmth and feeling of safety. I never deserved you."
Out of all the places, it guided him here, right next to her. Next to that beautiful dream, who used to smile at him every morning, smothering his face with kisses and compliments. The blossom which planted its seeds into his heart, growing bigger as days went by, becoming a beautiful flower. A flower he squeezed too hard and broke its fragile stem, falling apart in his hands.
"I'm sorry for loving you," he finished, head lowering to let out the cries, punching into the asphalt and cursing himself for putting his beloved through so much misery. Today was never supposed to happen, and he made a vow to never let it occur after that one mistake.
He had starved himself on purpose. It was another way of punishing himself, draining the reserves he had. Taking away the vital intake, he wanted to suffer slowly to evaporate from this cursed world. He could have chosen decapitation or burning, but those didn't pamper his desires. Going the long way was the final cut, reminiscing in the following weeks of withstanding the urges.
What he hadn't planned out, however, was the tie he had subconsciously created with her over the months. A red string of fate, which brought him back to her when he was at his lowest. At his lowest meant his most dangerous form, the one he fought not to unleash for years. An ill fortune locked inside a cage prepared to attack at the most suitable time.
The cosmos had chosen her out of all the people who had to witness it. That night flashed aloft, the pure scream of fear and confusion, callouts for help and rescue, vain attempts at running away and hiding from the danger banging at her door.
"Sunghoon, don't, don't hurt me, please."
At that moment, the string tore off, pushing the weak one against the wall and taking the needed material for survival, not blinking, only perceiving the refilling.
The panic and horror on her face still gleamed in the back of his mind, body pushing to escape the unbearable sharpness in her neck. The pleas reverberated in his ears, the heartbreaking cries and sobs silencing after some time, falling into the quiet void.
Without saying anything, he left, the other half taking over. It locked the rememberings of the events in a box, throwing it away into the deep ocean, destroying anything that would help to recollect them.
None of it mattered anyway.
"That wasn't me, Y/N. That wasn't me," the bruises and wounds worsened with each punch, and not stopping crushing himself into stakes. The pain felt outright, setting more power to reach the worst attainable slashes, nails digging into the concrete, tearing out the beds.
"Sunghoon," she called out gently, running back to his given-up state. The trembling hands caressed his cold cheeks, fondling with their warmness and love. They pulled him into a tight embrace, weaving him in safety. All of the suffocating sorrow burst into her shoulder, the fragrance of the well-known coconut lotion entering his function.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he cried, running his fingers through the soft clothing. Her muscles loosened up at the awaited contact, staining his black suit in driblets of nostalgia.
"Don't cry, please," her sentence tried to stop the lamentable wailings, crushing the knots in her stomach. It hurt to see him like this in spite of everything he put her through. Love was so strong it could overcome anything.
"Forgive me," the subtle pecks on her collarbones left traces of overflowing adour, the sounds of quiet sobs following. His quivering lips slid against the feather-like skin, reaching to the back of her ear to place a woeful adoration. He pulled away and held her head in his hand, yielding to her enchanting gaze, shaking in dread.
It wasn't him she feared, but the undying love she carried for him after everything. As much as she tried, his picture reflected every day, from the minute she opened her eyelids to the moment she closed them again. He was imprinted in her, and she couldn't fight it.
She didn't want to.
She wanted him more than anything else in the world.
He was the cause of her happiness and agony.
Yet, her heart only beat for him.
She stood up and ripped off the chain on her bag, throwing away the cross far in the grass with a sigh. Sunghoon looked up at her, perceiving the permission she granted him by doing so. Her dress blew in the sudden breeze, making her more breathtaking than before.
She didn't say anything, the tears flushing down her rosy cheeks. The neverending cycle of running away from the unknown had come to an end, submitting to the smothering zeal. Her joints surrendered, falling over from the lack of healing. They didn't respond to the headquarters straining them to continue pushing away the threat, sending inexecutable orders. There was no point anymore because her body rested in the loving hold, allowing the hazard to look after the hurt.
It entered her building, going up the stairs until it reached the bedroom and opened the door doubtfully. She felt her broken state being placed on the cushions, forcing a faint sigh. The concern in those lustful eyes looked at her again, grabbing her quivering hand and kissing them amidst weeping, his breathing deepening. One of them grazed over his cheek, transferring the message through the caress.
His fingers lightly slid down her arms, sensing the change in her heartbeat. They continued running over, barely touching the delectable dermis, hooking on the strap of the exquisite outfit. Pulling it down, they completely exposed the tanned shoulders, resisting the impulse.
Now his lips quivered, fangs pleading to bite in the mouthwatering flesh. He badly needed to, but the barrier stopped him from doing so. The incited repeated in his brain, and he couldn't.
"Y/N," the tip of his nose slid over hers, staring intensely into her soul as his mouth parted, breathing heavily. He had her right underneath, with nowhere to go, trapped between his arms. It was supposed to give him a sense of power, have complete control over vulnerability. Yet, staring into those hazel eyes brushed in fondness prevented that bizarre corruption. He wanted to earn it, not forcefully take it. He desired to fumble her in affection and appreciation. To goddess her in his ways.
"It's ok, Sunghoon. I trust you," her voice cracked in the middle, clasping his arm to retain the anxiousness.
It was him, in the end, the person she had loved from the first day despite the truth. She accepted him while being aware of the hot water she would be in. Park Sunghoon was her savior, the light at the end of the tunnel, pulling her out of the devilish years of misery and isolation. Before the afterlife could tauten her in, the knight in armor appeared at the last moment to thwart the unfortunate event from fulfilling. He wasn't someone easily erasable. Just like his marks, his effect would remain forever. Heretofore, her soul belonged to him.
"I love you," his lips immediately connected with hers, transmitting glorification through the slow yet passionate kisses. He sucked on the burning tissue, saliva decanting with hers, his tongue probing the inside. It roamed around, glazing over her gums, taunting them with his sharp and unquiet fangs. They slid over, settling down at her bottom lip, quickly intaglio two dots in the inner side.
The loud "ow" responded to the unanticipated gesture, nails digging into the mighty muscles. Sunghoon smirked before skimming over her warm tongue, licking off the accumulated red fluid, panting from the ecstasy of hearing her breathy moans. The alluring sounds emitted into his mouth, hands holding onto his shirt to handle the ravenousness.
There wasn't time to comprehend the motions, each managing to leave a recurring zest.
Soon enough, the hunter reached the marked point, pecking the spot countlessly before sinking in, ultimately soothing his uncomfortable teeth. The blood quickly transpired into his veins, filling the emptiness and hunger with a bonne bouche. The unmanageable pain in his mouth quenched, gearing back to the utmost satisfaction. He caught any remainder with his tongue, slurping on the tasty fluid.
Only hers tasted so sweet and sour at the same time, the perfect combination of flavors. His eyes screamed red, the pleasure riling up the hardened element twitching and throbbing, growing with each taint of liquid.
It was too good, and Sunghoon couldn't control himself anymore.
"I need you," he hastily got rid of her dress, disposing of his clothing in mere seconds. His hands landed on her undergarments, ripping them to see all of her instantly. He was astounded at the nude picture beneath, touching the seductive delight. His hands wandered around the exposed canvas, groping the delicateness of her dazzling attributes.
The lengthy index circled the pink teats, smiling at the little shakes from the feathery trace. Watching her squirm away from the stimulation while whimpering turned him on, gluing his mouth onto her chest.
He moistened the stiffened nipples, scratching the sensitive area with his incisors, drawing lines leading to her stomach. She held onto the sheets with her dear life, the burning pain shifting into fizzling pleasure, his mouth healing the bleeding lacerations. His devoted and lustful gaze landed on hers from between her legs, checking if the entire conduct had been bearable so far.
Her face materialized relaxed, mouth slightly ajar amidst closed eyes, head resting on the pillow and hand entangled in his. Sunghoon kissed the knuckles on her hand, moving onto the gorgeous thighs she maintained. Words couldn't describe the number of times he had fantasized about them, sucking and biting on the inner parts.
"Can I?" his question bounced off her thigh, close to the glistening hole, the scent placing him in seventh heaven. The confirmation gave him the clearance, covering the long legs in reddish shades.
The aftermath arrived once his teeth sank in once again, this time staying in for a short period to move on to the other, the taste surpassing the previous ones each time. Sunghoon's feelings blended in the hooking sap, the outcome resulting in unmatchable euphoria. The more he got, the darker his orbs turned, the ecstasy flowing through his veins, reaching down to the sacred part.
Wondering around hers only caused more suspense, inches away from diving into the leaking juices. And he did without any warning, shoving his tongue inside, easily sliding thanks to the wetness absorbing it. Her grip tightened abruptly, reaching for the other hand, needing intimacy as he pressed his narrow nose onto her clitoris, multitasking to stimulate. It moved whenever he swirled his tongue, boosting the excitement in her lower abdomen.
He was unstoppable, trying out everything he knew she enjoyed, pushing a finger to achieve another yelp, reaching the loudest once his keenness exalted. The sharp bayonets played with the tender folds, pulling onto them, another finger joining to curl up, hands stroking the unstable one. Her legs jerked around, back arching at the sensation, having missed the incredible effects he could have on her.
He kept adding more pressure and speed into his movements, tongue dancing around her swollen bud while his fingers massaged the inside. It was more close-knit whenever he took his time to pleasure her after all the drinking, observing the waves of pleasure crashing onto her.
She had the most beautiful face in the world, her brows waggling and mouth whimpering at the dirty act. Looking down, she met the handsome's gaze locked on hers. He didn't stop, but continued, providing kitten licks on her swollen clit, insinuating lewd intentions.
"Stop," his head rose instantly, looking for any sign of discomfort on her face.
"I don't want to cum yet," she let out a marveling smile, sitting up and pulling him closer to land her lips on his. When they connected, the arousal and traces of blood shifted into her mouth, attaining his favorite dessert. His arm wrapped around her waist, hand moving to her cheek, deepening the kiss.
"I want to come with you," her request parted, the exhaustion from the endless feeding for the supernatural one advancing. He was aware of that
"Fuck, when you talk like that," he kissed her once again, this time a bit more sloppy and impatiently, "you make me want to do things to you."
"Please do," she snuggled into his chest, folding on his lap. Her favorite thing to do was skin-on-skin contact, cuddling naked, to be precise. Something about feeling the opposite temperatures colliding with each other conveyed a profound connection.
He would always run his hands on her back, from her neck to her spine, sometimes reaching for the tempting buttocks, giving them a squeeze. Cupping and stroking them was a hidden hobby, currently finding himself engaging in the secret habit.
"Are you feeling up for it?"
"Mhm," she nodded, running her hands on his chest and sitting up, holding onto him from the sudden dizziness. She rested her head on his shoulder, slightly drooling since the tide of exhaustion heightened.
"Are you sure?" he caressed her hips, rubbing the marks he had left. They were a sight to see, relishing the moment. Once again, she hummed into his nape, lazily kissing it with a brief grin.
"Then turn over for me and lean against my back," he helped her, positioning both of them on their knees, facing away from each other with her back pressed against his chest and head catnapping under his chin.
"You know how much I love you?" the spontaneous words mumbled, grasping the arms wrapped around her waist. Sunghoon's eyes widened at the confession, not expecting to hear such words. He never thought he could obtain that remark again, completely dismissing the possibility.
He tried not to chuckle and smile like an idiot, kissing her apple-fragranced hair, squeezing harder, and burying his nose in her nape.
"You're the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me," the length rubbed against her core, still soaking, providing them the required lube. He nibbled the parts of her ear, licking and placing kisses, not getting enough of her.
She was messing with his head in the best way possible, disposing of all the destructive thoughts and replacing them with herself. An angel who protected him from evilness, constantly giving strength and guiding him on the right path.
"I never want to leave you again," his shaft pushed inside, setting in the deeply missed warmth, providing his coldness the impossible heat.
"Stay with me, Sunghoon. I can't-" The powerful thrust reached the deepest parts, disallowing her to form any words. They all evaporated from her brain, her body getting pressed onto his, hips moving into hers vigorously. They hit the grand spot that left her speechless, moaning intensely at the regular repeat, pulling out and dipping back in, covering him in the release.
"I'll be with you for as long as you'll want. I'm yours, only yours," he clasped her chest, holding onto it to go in deeper, the delight of having her bringing tears into his numb eyes. Not including her in his life was God's cruelest punishment, going through the trials of hell in the last months. Every day felt like torture, the need to hug and hold on to her intensifying.
"You promise?" she turned around a bit, wiping off the tears he let out unintentionally, kissing them repeatedly. He stopped thrusting, wanting to look deeply into her eyes for a second. He saw the hope in them, holding onto him once more.
"I promise," he grabbed her chin and kissed her, motioning forward at the same time, groaning at how unbelievably good it felt. She moaned into his mouth, holding onto his arms from the sudden acceleration, stumbling over. Sunghoon held her close, whispering the same 2 words continuously, kissing and marking her back.
"I promise, Y/N," his climax rushed toward him, prompting him to release his load, the amount amassing. He wanted to cum with her, feel her walls tightening around him and throbbing on his shaft as he came into her, the climaxes blending into one another.
"Sung-ho-oon," she stuttered, the thrusts not permitting her from expressing her situation, sucking in the long size aggressively entering. He nodded, pushing himself to follow through, feeling his tip already dripping out.
"Please tell me you love me again," he beseeched, needing to hear it before his climax.
"I love you, Sunghoon. And I'll always love-" the pronoun remained, the endless symbols on her clit causing her to cry from ecstasy, nails digging into his arms.
The room lit up with loud sounds of satisfaction, panting accompanying the duo, one slanting over to regain her breath while the other still held onto them. She lay down on her side, body dissolving into bliss, eyes closing to process the leaking release from her pulsating hole. Once she opened them again, they met another pair, smiling at them and caressing her hair.
"Are you alright? Does anything hurt? Do you-"
"Just cuddle me," her nose disappeared in his chest, hands grazing over the smooth outline of his abs, sensing the powerful grip around her soon after.
"And never leave me," she spoke before closing her eyes, welcoming the blanket he put over them, nuzzling into him. Her heart felt content again, immersing her in happiness. He was back. And she was also back.
"I promise," his pinky intertwined with hers, the long lost red string reattaching.
"I promise."
───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────
Taglist: @end-hyphen, @hee-pster, @jakeswifeyy, @gegeetime, @heerated, @jayked, @forjongseong, @enhastolemyheart
𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ^^
───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────
@maggstar
860 notes
·
View notes
Text
picture perfect
pairing: choi beomgyu x reader
word count: 2,635
summary: you do your best to show beomgyu how beautiful he is in your eyes on a particularly bad night (dw, it turns good!)
contains: afab!reader, insecurities, crying, sub!beomgyu (sort of), soft dom!reader (sort of), soft undertones of yn and bg being both sub&dom, clothed humping, a lot of sensual touching, nipple play (bg receiving), oral (bg receiving), hand job, overstimulation, come swallowing, facial, overall very soft wholesome sex, ending implies yn is about to get fucked so good <33, let me know if i miss anything plz!!
a/n: this is what i was supposed to have posted for beomgyu day before i was rudely in a car accident… [SIDE EYE] i love my beomie so much :c !! so unofficially posting this late for beomgyu’s birthday, happy birthday gyu 💞
“beomgyu?” you knock at the bathroom door, even though it’s open. your boyfriend turns to meet your eyes, face shimmery with a sheen of oil cleanser, but there’s milky trails of emulsion running from his red eyes. he’s crying. “what?” he croaks, sighing because he knows you’ve caught him. it’s one of the days, or nights, where he just isn’t feeling it. he’s not feeling good. it happens a lot, and it happens a lot to you. it’s been two days since you saw him since he’s been busy with work, sleeping over at his dorm instead of at your apartment. “you’re not supposed to see me like this…” he says quietly, his voice thick with anguish. you get it. you really do get it, you just wish he wouldn’t swallow it all up and end up choking on it.
“beomgyu…” you call his name again, sadly, frowning and leaning your face against the door frame. he lets the water run, leaning his hands on the sink. you let him take his time to speak, hesitantly running a hand to run his back. his makeup sits messily across his heartbroken face. he’s been breaking out, little blemishes scattered across his golden skin, one just a few steps off his birthmark near his mouth, and you can tell it’s bothering him, among everything else. there’s just so much demands from work, so much time spent in front of a camera, even more time where he finds his mind and heart losing energy and strength, and even his mood is dwindling. some camera people have gotten in his face and even tread a little close, unwanted pictures of him circulating - it’s all been too much.
you grab a little towelette from your cabinet, letting him keep his head down, letting him weep quietly, and you finish washing his face off for him, taking some of his favorite gel cleanser to wash his face anew. as you take care of him, there’s still glitter, eyeshadow, mascara, bits of concealer in the crevices of where he’d crinkle and wrinkle his face at the sensations of your hands on him. he ached and begged for your touch more than you could ever know.
“yn…” he sniffles as you’re rubbing delicately on his face again. it makes you blink up at him in surprise, and his bottom lip curls in a small cry. “you should’ve seen the things they called me online today. all ‘cause i didn’t fucking edit my picture like we have to, ‘cause that’s how things are now! we have to put on so much makeup, photoshop them on top of that, and even then, i know it’s not enough. i know i’m not enough and it’s just - what are you doing, baby?” he stills as you take his face into your hands, angling it so you can look more into his sorrowful eyes. his thick lips are pulled in a frown, there’s makeup caked with splotches of tears. all the same, he is still the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen in your life. you’ve never seen a more beautiful person ever, not once has your heart ever beat so wildly just by appearance let alone their beauty on the inside. you wish he knew. as much as you want to cry because you always cry with him, you’re always there, this time you want to let him know just how beautiful and perfect you find him. you want to give him that love.
“my pretty boy, you’re so devastatingly beautiful. how can no one else see the reality of what i see, hm? every single part of you is so gorgeous i get overwhelmed every time i look at you. i’m sorry everyone’s so fucking stupid and blind to see what i see.” that makes him chuckle but it sounds cynical, like he doesn’t believe it. he shakes his head shyly. there’s blush dusting his cheeks when he does. “no, beomgyu, you’re the most beautiful person to ever exist in my eyes. every single part of you is drop dead gorgeous to me. i want you endlessly, everything about you. i am so in love with you, all the beautiful, and that includes what you don’t like about yourself. i just wish you could truly know. oh, my beomgyu, i wish you knew.” he sniffles harshly, looking deeply into your eyes. his are brimming with tears so they look shimmery and glossy, but he looks even prettier.
“yn, you don’t mean that…” he says sheepishly but you can tell he wants to believe you. he wishes to believe even a word. in his heart, he knows you speak the truth. when have you ever let him down? not once. in all the years. you nod, tears welling in your eyes, but instead of pity, he finds adoration, endless and jade in its gleam, love, and even…lust. you bite down on your own lip, hand falling over his hip to bring him close to you, though you meet him halfway. you caress along his waist and sides, bringing the other to his jaw. he inches closer, lower half bucking the lower your hand goes. beomgyu fights a whimper, but loses: it sounds quiet.
“please baby, let me show you at least by an inch of how badly i want you, how fucking mouthwatering you are to me… hm, beomie? would you let me? we don’t have to do anything, baby, i know you’re exhausted, gyu, i—“ he takes your hand to bring it over the tent in his sweatpants. an erection. biting his thick lip, he nods. when he lets go, he moans breathily. “show me, sweetheart. go ahead.”
you give him a small but tender smile, using the other towelette to get the rest of his caked makeup off before throwing it in the sink when you’re done, uncaring now that your attention and focus is all on beomgyu.
you playfully tackle him into the bed to lay down, straddling him as he lies down underneath you, giggling through his wet eyelashes. you think about how he needs to add moisturizer on his tired, beautiful skin, so you do just that. your pulsing pussy sits right above his throbbing cock as you moisturize his skin, he closes his eyes, eyelids crinkling and opening those thick lips with little ‘ah-ah-ah’ moans, ones that are pathetic but adorable. his deep voice administering such cute moans makes you wet from above the growing tent in his pants. “there! all good, baby, now… let me just give you a hint of how badly you make me want you…” you grind very lightly, and he throws his head back from the little smile he had been giving you to moan out loud.
“good, beomie?” you ask and he opens his eyes, biting his bottom lip and nodding. “mhm…” blush dusts his cheeks, cock twitching against your wet folds, though fabric separates you both. (not for long though). you bounce against him a little, intertwining fingers with him, hearing the mattress creak, yours and his breaths growing heavier and heavier, your hips soon undulating a little further and further the harder you bounce, and soon, a gasp betrays him, beomgyu dropping your hands and coming you to hold you at your ribs, thumbs rubbing slowly at the underside of your tits. you still, breath shaky, but you giggle mutely, nodding in understanding, but of what? you don’t know.
you let him play with your tits through your top before you do him a favor and take it off. he watches you with haze in his eyes, a smile resting naturally on his lips. “hmm… why don’t we just take off everything else, too, huh?” you ask to no one in particular, moving around to remove your bottoms, shuffling around and falling off gyu’s lap onto the bed where he gives you a laugh and slaps your ass. you curse at him playfully, helping him unclothe himself, helping him to sit up to take off his shirt, pulling his pants off when he lefts his hips off the bed, and after playful banter dies down, you’re both seriously naked and both seriously pulsing with need. you stare at his twitching, leaking cock against his tummy while he stares at your pussy that peaks out from the way you’re sitting, legs sprawled around you, and you both catch each other and giggle.
beomgyu cups your face in his hand, thumb brushing your skin, and you give him a pretty smile, kissing his finger. on your knees, you scoot down, starting from locking lips with him before kissing all the way down his body, your ass in the air, eating up all his staccato moans, pecking his nipples, rubbing his hips, and beomgyu is losing it. his hips cant upwards as you kiss down his abdomen, your tongue dipping into his belly button, your fingers pull at his nipples and he cries out, knees trying to knock together but you push them further apart from around you. “oh, beomie, you’re so beautiful. fucking masterpiece, baby…” you murmur against his sweaty skin, kissing his pelvis and without warning, you take his base into your palm, fingers working up and down the length painfully slow, squeezing around the ridges.
your mouth works its way finally to where your hand is, light butterfly kisses that mold into taking as much as you can into your mouth, sucking, tongue brushing over the sensitive parts, drool swirling with the leaking beads of pre come. beomgyu tries to cover his mouth with a palm, shocked at the increasing volume and pitch change, but you pull off with a pop, yanking that hand to intertwine fingers with him. he looks down, expression twisted with a pout and teary eyes, and you just shake your head with an easygoing smile.
“ah, ah, ah, baby. i wanna hear each and every little noise you make for me. if i want to make you feel good and make you know how beautiful you are to me, then i also want to hear how good i make you feel. okay, my prince?” his whimper at the pet name catches you and him off guard, fresh pre come wetting your hand and his shiny length anew. he nods eagerly, dropping his head back down, letting those whines and groans through into the flushed air between you. you moan pathetically around his cock the more he reacts, he’s just so irresistible, and you wonder with disdain how anyone could think otherwise of your beomgyu? how anyone could dare to even think for a moment that he is anything less than beautiful and fucking perfect, because he is all of that and more to you?
your hand tugs faster, jerking him off faster around your mouth that sucks at his tip, his thighs are shaking around you, practically vibrating off the bed. your wrist is starting to ache from how fast you’re going, and you suckle around him a little harder, tongue leaving and swirling around, sniffling as you try and regulate your breaths, unaware of tears streaming down your cheeks. you hollow them out a little, twisting your grip, and he stills for a moment, ribs out with great intakes of breath before ribbons of his white seed fill your mouth in spurts, decorating your face, covering your eyelash in one of his streams once you pull away. he moans so breathily and deeply, but oh so loudly at the aftershocks, eyes shut, and you smile with your own eyes closed, swallowing what made it in your mouth and continuing to jerk him off, much to his pathetic little cries.
“oh, fuck, yn! oh~ fuck! ah-ah—ah, oh that’s a lot! yn, oh my fucking god!” he cries, gripping the sheets in his hands as you overstimulate him, his length so angrily red and wet, but still so big and tall, balls taut. beomgyu takes one look down at you and cuts himself with a groan at your facial, that you don’t even hesitate to remove. there’s some of his come in your fringe, on your eyelashes on one eye, around your cheek, on your chin, and on your lips. you’re so beautiful to him… you play with him harder and harder, watching him. by now, your own wetness has ran its way to your inner thighs, past your leaking cunny. you squeeze them together to get off, too turned on by the sight before you.
“oh, come on, beomie,” you coo, pouting with faux mercy. “you can give me another one. i know you can do that for me! don’t be shy. i wanna hear your precious cries!” you giggle, at the way his face clenches, grimacing but his eyebrows furrow and he pours, tears leaking from his own eyes. he’s bitten his lips swollen. “f—fuck, yn! ah, fuck, baby! i—i don’t think i can! it’s too much!” he wails, his hips buck wildly, but he never says the magic word, so you just play with his cock a little faster. he chokes on his sob when he gasps again, thrusting into your hand powerfully, coming undone all over your hand and his abdomen in thick spurts. he falls back to the mattress, body so boneless, panting hotly. he’s red from the chest up, sweating lightly, his hair sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are crossed.
you sigh, giving his cock head a light kiss, and dropping it softly back to his tummy. as he comes back from cloud nine, you get up and grab a damp towel, returning by his side to clean him off, massaging his sore muscles once he’s clean. beomgyu opens his eyes to look up at you, your face surrounded by the lighting of the lamp beside you both. it makes you look like an angel. you think it makes him look like a painting: picture perfect. beomgyu taps at your hand to let you know he’s back to real life from where you’re cleaning off his thighs. he smiles so serenely at you, and you do the same. beomgyu tucks your hair behind your ear, taking the rag from your hand to wipe your face off. you let him do so, scooting closer and giggling with him as he wipes off as much as he can, though a shower is what you both need.
before beomgyu can move his hand from your face, you touch his hand with yours to keep it in place, giving a deep kiss to his palm. he blushes wildly as he drops the rag to his side. “you’re so beautiful, beomgyu. i think there is so much to love about you that it overwhelms me in the best way possible. i don’t think you realize how much you have a hold on me…” you speak quietly, and his eyes water a little.
“so, please believe me, my baby. there’s nothing you or anyone could do or that could happen that could even make me think otherwise for even a second.” you take a second to lean down to kiss his new blemishes, his beauty marks, and finally his lips. beomgyu lets you, letting himself bathe in your praise and your love. for once in a lifetime, but for long, he finally feels fulfilled.
“i love you, yn,” he whispers against your lips, and you grin, kissing him again. “i love you, too, beomgyu.” he giggles, and you feel his fingers snake around your pussy, slick making a lewd noise, making you gasp in his mouth. beomgyu plays with the wetness, teasing your folds, and you clamp his hand with your thick thighs. beomgyu smirks. “and how about i show you how much i love you, now?”
and who are you to deny yourself that?
769 notes
·
View notes
Note
OKAY. OKAY HEAR ME OUT. Hybrid (member of ur choice) trying to be top but then u accidentally brushed against their ears/tail.. they freeze and suddenly whimpering from it because you just touched their sensitive parts ???!! and boom they just submit to you LOLOL and probably hybrid reader whose tail cant stop wagging at their cute little hybrid being submissive ~
- ur loyal follower
warnings: bunny hybrid!soobin, fox hybrid!reader, sub!soobin on top, softdom!reader, overstim, pet names, titty sucking, size kink (?), breeding kink, insecure soob + praise kink, established relationship, dry humping, possessive soobin? lol this is kinda angsty i have no idea why... also very much not proofread my apologies 😵
a/n: i'm overthinking this hybrid stuff ..what is the lore?? do hybrids have places to live??? or are they just in the wild???? lol it took too long to figure the setting out
soobin who just wants to fuck you right--days of preparing by fisting his cock, back against a nearby tree where no one could see him, biting down on his plush lips, as he thinks of getting on top of you and hearing you moan. he wants to take care of you, make you think hes better than all your previous partners.
people have been whispering about the oddness of your relationship. hybrids rarely mated with hybrids outside of their species let alone the general animal family.
and the fact that soobin was one of the lowest classes of the kingdom--a bunny, a prey-- heated up a lot of off-handed comments hurled towards him.
the most insulting being that he can't possibly make you finish. that he's a baby who can't please his girl--the bunny who probably cums in his pants from slight teasing.
the thing is, both of you haven't reached that stage anyway. so the rumors were groundless--that's the excuse that served to calm soobin for a few weeks.
though, that didn't seem to be satisfying anymore as he tossed and turned, wondering if you felt the same as everyone else--that he can never satisfy you. so, that led him to decide he had to take matters in his own hands.
you were both comfortable on your couch, watching a movie, all lights turned off. you whine a little when he pulls away from your hold, the warmth gone. "where are you going?" you pout, your eyes following him as he gets off the couch.
he gives you a smile, his dimples still so visible to you even in the dimness of the room. "i'm coming back, just a second."
after a few minutes, you admittedly forget about soobin, his elongated absence not fazing as you find yourself a little too immersed in the movie playing.
finally, your focus lifts from the screen, noticing soobin standing by the couch, staring at you. you tap next to you signalling him to come over, then tune in to the movie again.
but he doesn't budge, still standing, so you look over at him again, a confused smile on your face as your brows crease.
"what's up bunny?"
the pet name seems to snap soobin out of his daze, the feeling of insecurity washing over him again as he bites the insides of his cheek. "don't...i don't want you calling me that."
your brows raise, a little confused at his request and the change of atmosphere. before you could say anything, soobin is on the couch, his knees sinking into the leather, and big hands cupping your cheeks.
for a second, you stare into his eyes, your lips parted ever so slightly. but your thoughts don't come to finish until his lips crash onto yours, first soft then quickly turning filthy, spit hungrily exchanged, as he guides you to a change of position--your head on the armtrest, laid on the couch as his body hovered over yours--pulling away to quickly latch his wet lips onto the flesh of your neck.
you don't know where this was coming from until he continues to talk. "i'm not your little bunny," he grunts against your neck that he so desperately is sucking on, breathy moans escaping your lips, eyes closed, as your hands tangled themselves on his pretty hair. "i can be big and strong like yeonjun."
you furrow your brows, disrupting the pleasure you're feeling as your eyes hesitantly open. why did he suddenly mention your ex? you're not an idiot, you know soobin's been effected by the response to your relationship; you've been trying to reassure him by taking things slow, making him know that he was wanted, that you liked him.
you pull his head away gently, trying to put an end to his marking, but his lips chase your neck needily, so desperate to make you feel good. "no, bunny--soobin, stop." you correct yourself. he obeys, though his fringe covered his eyes a little, you can still see the way they were like big orbs, puppy-like -- being paired with the way his bottom lip pushed upward, a pout formed on his lips, it made your heart swell a little.
but you have to talk to him. "soobin, what's wrong? tell me." you caress his cheek a little hoping he'd give in...and for a second, he leans into it before he shakes his head like hes fighting against himself. "jus' wanna make you feel good..."
he cuts you off--your once opened mouth meaning to say something is closed once he buries his head in the crook of your neck again, his hot breath fanning against it, clothed growing bulge grinding between your legs, increasingly getting needier and needier.
you sigh, letting him have his way--you'd normally never let this happen, but you had a soft spot for bunny soobin, with his cute pink lips, blue hair, fluff ball of a tail, who wouldn't?
"let me make you feel good?" it comes out as a pleading question, even if it's soft and quiet, barely a whisper--you notice it and nod.
fortunately for soobin, your shorts are skimpy, easily pulled down as he tries to get access to your pussy, which were uncomfortably sticking to your wet underwear, result of all the dry humping.
you see a slight smile make way on his lips when he examines the wet spot on your panties.
"come on, unbuckle your pants big boy." you tease with a pout, your hand pulling on the hem of his jeans-- his poor dick being restricted by the tightness.
he looks up at you, out of his daze, a big smile as he quickly fumbles to unbutton his jeans, and pulling them down. now it was his boxers, big dick rubbing against your pussy as he leans in to sloppily kiss you, you making sure to moan against his lips to soar his confidence a little more. soobin on the other hand, was suppressing his moans, making them come out as grunts instead. you don't seem to notice.
your hands instintively go over to reach for his fluffy ears, so soft against your touch, so addictive to rub gently up and down--but this causes soobin to pull away slightly from your lips, his breathing heavy.
you breathe out his name hesitantly, "soobin?"
he doesn't respond, instead, a sudden movement of his hip makes you gasp, his head buried in between your chest. "t-touch me again" he manages to blabble between the fabric, drool already staining your shirt.
you're confused, mind a little hazed with the way your pussy was pulsating, so desperate for his bunny cock inside you.
he manages to pull your shirt over your tits, behavior so closely resembled to a rabid dog, so hungry and frantic, not missing a second to grab your breasts and attach his bunny teeth on your nipples, nibbling and pulling.
you moan, the pleasurable pain making you reach his tail like a sort of stress ball, but that makes him whine, his hips snapping into you until he gets more frantic against your clothed pussy, his length pressed against your slit.
"shit soobin--take off your boxers!" that halts his movement, face previously buried in the softness of your breasts--that were now covered in spit--slowly raising to look at you, face red and a pout on his glistening pink lips.
you feel a warmth between your thighs, and you realize he just came. he also knows because after a few beats of silence, his lips quiver, tears forming in his eyes.
you pout, hand on his face prepared to wipe away any pretty tears of his to stain his cheeks, trying to comfort your bunny. but his tears come like a waterfall anyway when he tries to talk between his hiccups, "i-i'm just...i'm just a dumb bunny...i can't make you feel good a-and i cum before having my dick inside you, a-and--"
you catch his lips with yours, putting an end to his incoherent ramble, then pull away momentarily before it got too heated. "baby...listen to me, alright? we can try again."
he looks up at you with those big orbs quietly asking if you'd let him, and you nod, fingers still gently gliding under his eyes.
to not much of your surprise, soobin is down on your breast again, swirling his tongue around your abused nipples, sucking like he was a baby that needed its nutrients. it's a little endearing, looking down at the back of his head as he moans against your tits--he was getting off from sucking.
you know because you feel pressure on the side of your thigh--he got hard. you don't want him to feel embarrassed again, so you do your job of pulling down his boxers, which is a hard task as his body is pressed against you--but you manage to get his fat cock flinging out eventually.
you feel it pressed against your wet slit until suddenly, before you could remind him to go in, his tip finds a way to enter by having pulling your underwear to the side revealing access to your cunt.
his mouth pulls away from your nipples, head back when he feels the warmth of your pussy just on his tip, it was a lot better than having his hand wrapped around his dick is the only thing on his mind.
chasing your warmth, soobin wastes no time to push in his entire cock, so big it almost suffocates you with the way it fills you up, your breath hitched in your throat.
it stays in there with no movement, soobin just staring at you. you think he's about to cry until he says, his voice broken and hoarse "m-mommy, touch my ears..."
you don't question his request, your hands reaching on his floppy ears, rubbing circles.
that seems to get soobin in action, his hips suddenly moving, cock hitting far into you, places you're not sure any hybrid found their way to. you bite down on your lips, using his ears as a stress toy, pressing down on the sensitive body part.
his thrusts become frantic, as his lips part, drool running down. his mind was a haze, so cloudy he can't think straight. "am i making you feel good? am i making you feel good? is bunny a good boy?" he questions, but it comes as an insecure hurd of questions, breath unsteady as he searches for your approval.
you found it adorable, pulling him down by wrapping your arms around his nape, catching him in a sloppy kiss. he melts into it, dick still roughly thrusting with no sort of rhythm, so erratic into you like a bunny in heat.
when he pulls away, unfortunately, tears come down his cheeks again, as he hiccups, contrast to how he was wrecking your poor pussy. you think something upset him again but that isn't the case.
"wanna breed you." it's a soft wish, a naive one -- bunnies can't breed foxes, it's physically impossible, but you nod anyway, giving him some hope.
"breed me bunny."
those words seems to get to soobin, his hips stuttering, feeling his fat cock twitch inside you as strained moans come from the bunny. "'m cumming, 'm cumming!" he cries out. you couldn't help it, you bit your lips at the erotic sight above your head, ears twitching at the way he was fcked dumb, only thinking with his dick.
the warm spurts of his bucket of semen in you elicit an unexpected orgasm, making you both cum in unison. after his orgasm, soobin's body falls on you, boneless and exhausted. even as it suffocates you ever so slightly, his large body encasing yours, you let him lay there, his cheeks in contact with your breasts, playing with his hair, sighing.
he doesn't seem to want to pull out, dick still firmly buried inside your cunt. "bunny...tell me what you're thinking."
"i just made you finish," his tone is cheeky but you're not having it. "soobin, i'll make you pull out if you don't tell me whats been bothering you."
that makes him panic, almost immediately sputtering out his thoughts. "i just thought...i just thought you would think that your other big and strong, powerful exes are better than me and--and maybe they are--"
"bunny no," you signal him to pull his head up to look at you, your hands cupping his cheeks, "you're the one i chose, i'm choosing. you don't have to be big and strong, you are, but you don't have to be. you make me happy soobin."
"really?" it breaks your heart how his voice is so unsteady and uneasy, full of so much doubt you want to kiss away.
you smile instead, "who has his dick buried in me right now?"
you see a hint of pink rush to his cheeks before he cutely goes to bury his face in your breasts again, whining against it. "stop it..."
your hand play with his hair, the tv still playing the movie.
the entire night, soobin does end up laying on top of you, a little on the side to give you more access to breathing, but this was his safe haven, laying on top of your plush breasts, his dick comfortably inside you. sometimes, he'd move his dick, slowly as to not wake you up, but then he loses control, thrusting into you, breathy moans filling the room as he lewdly watches your breasts bounce--then he cums inside you again, filling you to the brim.
he'll breed you, he'll find a way. he'll make you his--only his.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
at this point it would be less of a liability for elon’s lawyers to just kill him and take their chances on a murder trial
115K notes
·
View notes
Text
It's raining.
Summary: San wants Wooyoung’s attention and you make sure that he gets it, and then you decide to watch.
Word count: 2.2k+
Genre: Smut
Pairing: OT8 x neutral!reader, Wooyoung x San (poly relationship)
Warnings: sub!san, dom!woo, shower sex, unprotected sex, use of kitten and master, slight degradation and humiliation, M x M, male penetration, anal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, cum, cumming untouched (let me know if I missed something) be careful while reading.
Notes: uhmmm yeah ive noticed that I don’t have any WooSan comtent on here so I decided to change that. Have fun reading haha
Taglist: under the cut (let me know if you wanna be added)
---------------------------------------------
“Y/n!” You heard your name called right as you finished cleaning the kitchen. It was San’s voice, and it was his pouty one. You smiled softly as an image of pouty San appeared in your head. And unsurprisingly, when you found him in the living room, he looked just like you had imagined.
His arms were crossed and his legs were spread apart while he barely sat on the couch anymore. He had slid so deep that his chin was laying on his chest, which perfectly underlined his pouty lips. He was adorable.
“What’s wrong little one?” You asked as you sat down next to him. Before answering, he turned towards you and pulled himself back up.
“Y/n…” He whined. “Wooyoung hasn’t given me any attention today.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. He was getting so worked up just because he didn’t receive enough love, for his standards, from a single person. But Wooyoung and San’s relationship has always been special and you knew that.
“Baby.. if he doesn’t give you enough attention, you need to tell him! He can’t read your mind.” You tried to comfort him a bit by gently patting his head. Without any hesitation San pressed his head into your hand and let out a satisfied sigh. Like a kitten.
“Okay Sannie, get up. We’re gonna find Wooyoung and tell him to give you attention alright?” You said while standing up, not really accepting no as an answer. San nodded slowly and sloppily removed himself from the couch. You chuckled again.
You held out your hand, which he immediately took, and walked him to Wooyoung’s room. But to his disappointment, Wooyoung wasn’t there. Only Yeosang looked up from his laptop, confused.
“Can I help you?” He asked, a loving smile on his face. The picture of you and San holding hands made his heart grow warm.
“Where is Wooyoung?” You responded, sending him a small kiss. Yeosang received it with a dramatic gesture, holding his chest as if he was shot before he answered.
“Oh Wooyoungie is in the bathroom, I think he wanted to take a shower.” You quickly thanked him before leading San to the bathroom. You had an amazing idea. Right before the bathroom door, you stopped.
“Knock on the door honey.” You told San and his cheeks immediately turned red.
“But- but what if he’s naked?” San asked, his mind obviously going places. You laughed a bit. As if San had ever cared about nakedness. “You’ll have to find out.” You giggled and knocked for him.
“Come in, the door is open!” Wooyoung’s voice sounded out of the room in response. You opened the door and gently pushed San forward.
You entered a steamy room. Wooyoung always liked his showers hot. And before you could say anything, Wooyoung had pushed open one of the shower doors and popped his head out. As he realized it was you and San, he was confused.
“What’s wrong?” Wooyoung asked, sounding a bit worried. San just blushed and watched his feet. You gave him a little nudge. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to tell him, Sannie?”
Curiosity lit up in Wooyoung’s eyes and San was stepping from one foot to the other.
“Uhm I- I want-“ San stuttered “I need your attention.” He was nearly whispering as he finished his sentence, but Wooyoung heard him loud and clear. His eyes darkened immediately and he shot you a small glance to make sure you were okay with what was about to happen. Oh and you definitely were. You nodded.
“You need my attention Sannie? Then get rid of those clothes and get it.” Wooyoung smirked as San flinched at his tone but instantly started undressing. You smiled. This is gonna be a nice show you thought while closing the toilet lit and settling down on it. Your premium seat gave you a clear view of the shower and even through the foggy glass you could perfectly see the outlines of Wooyoung’s naked body.
You had purposely left the door open to make sure everyone knew what was going on.
You watched San as he got rid of his last piece of clothing and stepped towards the shower. As cute as he liked to act there was no denial of how hot he was and he knew that very well. There was nothing that Yunho loved more than wrapping his big hands around San’s small waist while.. you know during what. Every member had their favourite part about San and if you had to choose it would be his broad shoulders.
His muscles were moving under his skin while he opened the shower door to get in. You were mesmerised by his movements. San was about to close the door behind him but Wooyoung interrupted him.
“Leave it open. I’m sure Y/n wants to watch.”
Wooyoung had moved to the back part of the shower, leaving enough room so San could get himself wet. Having a big shower definitely had its advantages.
But right when it looked like just a normal shower, Wooyoung took the body wash and squeezed a good amount into his hands before starting to gently massage San’s back. You watched as San flinched under the sudden touch but soon relaxed into Wooyoung’s hands.
A familiar tingle appeared in your belly as you followed Wooyoung’s hands with your eyes. He had started at San’s back before moving on to his shoulders and arms making sure every centimeter of his skin was covered in a thin layer of gel. Then he let his hands glide down San’s sides and stepped a bit closer to caress his chest and stomach. Their body’s were close, so close it looked like Wooyoung was pressed against San’s back while his hands were slowly wandering lower and lower.
You smirked as you heard a well known little moan.
Wooyoung had reached San’s crotch and began to stroke his dick gently. San had been hard from the moment he stepped into that shower. They had shut off the water before using body wash so you could clearly hear every little sound.
“Is this what you wanted, kitten?” Wooyoung asked, chuckling as San just nodded furiously. He loved that nickname. But that’s what he was to all of you, a little kitten.
San’s pathetic little moans from being jerked off echoed through the bathroom. Fuck this is too hot you thought as you felt arousment building up in your stomach. And you weren’t talking about the temperature in the room, which was also quite high.
Wooyoung was completely pressed against San by now, obviously rock hard as well. San could feel his boyfriend’s length press against his back and it made him go crazy. Wooyoung’s touch made him shiver, again and again, as he felt pre-cum dripping out of his own dick.
“Do you want me to fuck you kitten? Is this the attention you need? If that’s the case, just say so~” Wooyoung teased San, letting one of his hands move to San’s butt while the other still gently jerked him off.
You were in awe. You loved watching your boyfriend’s fuck each other. They were so ethereal and yet so pathetic, doing everything for the pleasure that they were getting. San send you an unsure gaze.
“Can he?” San was breathing heavily. You smiled. He was such a good boy. Even asking for permission in this situation. You nodded.
“If that’s what you want, then feel free.” You answered calmly, even though you were burning inside. You wanted someone to stuff you with a dick or have someone sit in front of you eagerly waiting to satisfy you. Anything was fine. And you could’ve just asked one of them to come and help you out. But you decided to wait. Something about watching them without getting off yourself made you incredibly horny.
Wooyoung didn’t hesitate a single second after he got your permission to fuck San. He had taken some of the lube that was standing in the shower for obvious reasons and started to carefully prep San.
And San was shaking under his touch. He let out a deep groan as Wooyoung pushed a second finger into his entrance, slowly stretching him.
“Enough…” San moaned. “Fuck me already.”
Wooyoung smirked. “Oh eager, are we?” But he didn’t need to ask twice. Wooyoung pulled his fingers out, making San complain about the emptiness, and turned on the water slightly to wash off the remaining body wash. After washing his hands under the light stream he lubricated his dick and positioned it at San’s entrance.
San immediately reacted by bending over slightly and holding on to anything he could find. You couldn’t help but let out a big breath at the overwhelmingly exciting position they were in.
Wooyoung then let one of his hands wander around San’s waist to his front, gently grabbing his dick, and the other sank into San’s hair before he slowly pushed his hip forward. As his dick disappeared in San’s clenching hole, he let out a relieved sigh. Not only San had been waiting for this all day.
You sharply inhaled as your hand moved towards your crotch, eager to touch yourself, knowing that it would make them go even crazy. But you stopped yourself.
Seeing you glance at them with burning passion in your eyes, barely able to control yourself, made San even hornier. His dick was already dripping when Wooyoung finally started to move.
“You’re such a dirty little kitten for me Sannie. All worked up just for my dick.” Wooyoung growled while picking up the pace. San was clenching around him, making it hard not to cum right then and there. Wooyoung was glad they had a non-slip mat in their shower because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to pound his pulsing cock into San’s little hole this steady.
“I am..” San answered, his eyes rolled back, nearly drooling. “I am just a little attention whore.” He moaned loudly. He was deep deep in subspace. You had to suppress a chuckle. You knew he would regret this later. He always felt like nobody would take him seriously after stuff like that, but in the end he couldn’t help it. And he would get back at the others when he was in dom mode anyway.
Wooyoung’s moans got louder as he felt himself getting closer to his high. He started jerking San off in the same rhythm as he was thrusting into him to make sure he wouldn’t be the first one to cum.
And it worked. San was a panting mess. The double stimulation had overtaken all of his senses and all he managed to do was whine and moan Wooyoung’s name.
“Please make me cum.. please master..” As soon as that little word slipped out of San’s mouth it was over for him. Wooyoung groaned deeply as he got faster and faster. At that point he was just mindlessly fucking San, chasing after his own orgasm.
“Can I.. ca-“ San interrupted himself as he turned his head to you. Something inside of you changed as you memorized every single feature of his fucked out face.
“Can I c-cum?” He then managed to say, begging you with his eyes to say yes. You immediately felt pressured building up in your stomach and electricity running through your veins. Fuck why is he so good.
"Yes, of course. Both of you can.” You responded, holding down the lewd sounds that wanted to come out of your mouth.
After getting your consent, San’s eyes rolled back and his back arched as white liquid shot out of his tip. His whole body was twitching as he painted the shower wall white. The pleasure that was washing over him was immense and he immediately started clenching around the throbbing dick in his ass.
Wooyoung began letting out high pitched moans, replacing his relatively calm self from before. He let go of San’s dick and hair and held him by his waist, making it easier to reach the places he wanted to reach. San was shaking under him because of the overstimulation but Wooyoung didn’t care. He needed to cum.
Your body was moving on its own, grinding on your seat, trying to get every bit of pleasure possibly. And then something happened to you. Your body started shaking, tensing up while this familiar feeling was washing over you. You held onto the counter on your right as your high finally wore off. You had cum, untouched.
Wooyoung glanced over to you for one second and it was over for him. The way you were sitting on the toilet, legs pressed together, completely fucked without even having been touched sent an impulse through his body. He pushed himself into San one last time before filling him up to the brim. His cum was leaking out of San’s hole before he gently pulled out.
San immediately collapsed under him. “Are you happy now?” Wooyoung asked, still panting. San nodded weakly. After collecting yourself from what just happened you immediately got up to help them get cleaned up.
After making sure they were all clean, you lovingly pet their heads. “You put on an amazing show for me, such good boys.” You smiled, giving them each a kiss on the forehead.
Just as you were wrapping them up in big towels, Yeosang walked into the bathroom.
“Need any help?” He giggled as he recognised the state Wooyoung and San were in. “I’ll make sure they get enough rest.”
-------------------
Tags: @jonghoisbabie @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers-writes @serialee @crimsonbubble @cometoceantrenches @em--ilysm @deja-vux @kawaiiloli00 @ddeonghwva @aaaaajonghooooo @sansbun @cookies-n-joong @plonys @hijirikaww @nari-nim @yunkiwii @mingi-ivity @racheloveyunho @seongsangsgf @jhmylove @lizsvcks @yunhobabygurl @leoninadecorazones @kerra-that-one-random-fangirl @star1117-archives
-------------------
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
↳ Index [Day 19 - Facesitting & CBT]
Pairing: SA!Yoongi x f.Reader
Kinks: Vampire!Yoongi, Switching, oral (f.&m.receiving), 69ning, face sitting, cock worship, CBT, ball busting, cock slapping, pinching, biting, handjob, dirty talk, praise, forced milking, tears, yoongi in a manbun & wet hair, the trope of supernatural being barely controlling their animalistic desire for their human lover, yoongi’s monster tongue
Wordcount: 6.5k
a/n: just fyi this almost escalated into her riding the craze outta his cock while he is a whiney boy and i had to stop myself because that wasn’t in the requests. either way *yells* I LOVE SANGUIS ALPHA YOONGI WITH MY ENTIRE HEART!! Writing for him always makes me so warm & fuzzy. Besties we are going down together, they are so needy for each other and i agree 🤍
Yoongi’s head hits the mattress, knocking a throaty laugh out of him. His eyes are crinkled in a smile, his head is dizzy in happiness.
“Fuck, princess”, he gets out, arching his back in an attempt to get comfortable.
“Yoongi”, you moan, straddling him just to cup his face and pull him into a deep kiss.
Yoongi groans, big hands gripping your waist and abs working hard now that you are pulling him close to you and therefore forcing his head to lift from the sheets.
You basically lick into his mouth, almost breaking his nose from just how close you press your face. Yoongi cracks up, breaking the kiss.
“Princess wait”, he laughs and laughs even harder when you chase him, “wait, love hey.”
“Yoongi please kiss me”, you beg, grabbing him by the back of his head just to pull him onto your lips.
“Can I not even take my shoes off?” he whines, turning his head just enough that you end up kissing his jawline. Not that this seems to affect you in any way. With a hungry moan rumbling in your chest, you devour his pretty jawline, lips dancing to his neck every now and then as well. You moan each time that happens, inhaling deeply just the get a whiff of his perfume.
“Ah fucking shit princess that feels fucking good”, he moans and exhales shakily, “you’re making it fucking hard”, he whines and chuckles breathily.
“Good. Don’t get up”, you answer him, kissing him right under his ear where it feels the best.
“Princess please”, he groans, voice shaky in arousal and head tilting back in both frustration and pleasure.
“I missed you so much”, you growl against his neck, “fucking missed you so much.”
“Princess”, he whines when you bite down on his neck, “please let me slip outta my shoes at least, please.”
Keep reading
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
18+ only content - no minors
Content warnings:
afab!reader, dom!reader, sub!Jisung, soft D/s dynamics, prenegotiated kink, somnophilia, rimming, penetration, unprotected sex (be safe though y’all), Jisung’s kinda bratty but not really (he’s a good boy who wishes he was a brat)
Jisung falls asleep everywhere. You’ve known this nearly as long as you’ve known him, walking in to find him passed out on whatever surface he could turn into a makeshift bed (even some impressively uncomfortable looking ones, at times). He always looks so precious when sleeping: cheeks puffed out, lips parted slightly, eyelashes fluttering over delicate eyelids as he dreams. But as precious as he looks, it doesn’t take long for your thoughts to start turning… less innocent.
You’ve seen and felt what those lips can do when he puts his mind to it, watched his cheeks rounding out as his lips stretch over your strap-on, his eyelashes catching tears as he cries from the torture of not being allowed to touch you, hands tied behind his back to force him to behave. The more often you find your boyfriend asleep where he shouldn’t be, the more your mind starts wandering, daydreaming of what you could be doing with him when he’s sweet and sleepy.
But you wouldn’t want to begrudge him his sleep - you know how hard he works, and how exhausted he gets after all the effort he puts in - and can’t bring yourself to wake him, so the most you ever do is what you can to make sure he’s sleeping comfortably. Toss a blanket over him, remove his headphones from falling onto the floor, kiss his cheek, and let him sleep.
Until a couple of weeks ago. Until… well, until Jisung.
It wasn’t actually you who sparked the conversation. It was Jisung himself who came to you with a new request. Your boyfriend has never shied away from exploring new kinks; even if he wasn’t interested beyond trying it once, he’s adventurous, and you suppose it was only a matter of time before he approached you about this one.
You were sitting in front of your computer, sipping hot tea while reviewing project proposals, groaning internally at the lack of originality or research the team had put into some of them. The last thing you were expecting was Jisung waltzing into the room and immediately hitting you with, “hey, have you ever thought about fucking me in my sleep?”
You barely avoided spraying tea all over your keyboard, but your sweater wasn’t quite so lucky, taking the majority of damage as you cursed and tried to mop up the spilled liquid.
“Sorry!” He didn’t look sorry at all.
“Yeah, you look very contrite. Grab me a towel, please?” He smirked but did as you asked, and let you finish cleaning up. The moment that you were no longer distracted though, he threw the question at you again. “So? Have you ever thought about fucking me in my sleep?”
“Hi Jisung, it’s nice to see you, Jisung. How was your day, Jisung? Oh, mine was fine, thanks for asking.”
He rolled his eyes, “yeah yeah, hey babe, how are you, nice weather, and all that. Now let’s focus on the important questions.” He had started to twitch, and you could tell he seriously wanted an answer as anxiety started to take root. “Have you ever thought about fucking me in my sleep?” Jisung’s bravado petered out as he reached the end of his sentence, question getting quieter with every word as he looked at you.
“Oh, Sungie,” his chest puffed out a little as he tried to play it cool, “god, all the time, baby.” Jisung deflated in relief at your answer. He got like this occasionally when asking to try new things. He’s rarely ashamed of what he wants to try, but occasionally - when it was something he really wanted - he got a little nervous at your answer, at the thought that maybe this would be the time you laugh in his face (not that you ever would, and he knows that, but anxiety doesn’t always play by the rules).
“Do you often think about me fucking you in your sleep?”
His cockiness was back, smirk in place when he answered, “oh, all the time. I wake up hard sometimes and wish you were already sitting on my cock, using me to get yourself off. Other times, I dream that you’re pounding into me, and I wake up messy and coming and screaming your name.”
“Fuck, Sung.” You grabbed him and kissed him hard, unable to resist the images he was creating. He kept talking between kisses, describing all the ways he’s dreamed that you could take him apart as you marked up his neck. It wasn’t long before you pulled him to the bedroom and fucked him like he wanted, hard and messy and making him cry.
But to your disappointment, you haven’t had a chance to play with him in his sleep yet. The morning after, you had sat down at the table to discuss it and set boundaries, and you agreed that you wouldn’t set a date, since he wanted to be surprised by it. You wanted to follow through on the “surprise him” request, so you didn’t do it the next time you found him asleep on the couch, nor the time you found him passed out in his chair in his home studio. But you could tell he was getting antsy, and to be entirely honest, so were you. But you stayed patient, knowing the perfect opportunity would come soon enough.
You’ve been in your own home office most of the day, but when you walk into the bedroom, you see Jisung stretched out on his front on the bed, hair still damp from a shower, notebook abandoned in front of him and a pen barely held between two fingers. His cheek is pillowed on his hand, and it’s making his lips purse out even more, and you can’t help the shiver that runs through you at the sight. Carefully lifting the pen from his lax grip, you set it and his notebook on the dresser, safely out of potential harm’s way, and trace your finger down his cheeks and over his lips. When you touch his lips, he makes a tiny noise, but when he doesn’t seem to be waking up, you continue your exploration, and slightly press your finger into his mouth, biting your lip on a gasp when he immediately starts to suck on your finger once it touches his tongue.
You should have known. Of course even in his sleep he can’t resist something in his mouth.
You send a silent thanks that Jisung has taken to ignoring underwear lately - so eager for you to follow through on his request to fuck him while he sleeps - as you carefully pull his shorts down over his butt, unable to fully remove them without waking him, but freeing him enough to give you access to his perky ass. He told you the other week that for the first time you two try this, while he does really want you to play with his “cute, little hole” (his words, accompanied by a tiny shimmy in his seat), he doesn’t want you to fuck him with your strap yet, but a little ass play, maybe a finger, to get him going would be very welcome.
You haven’t gone for the lube in the nightstand yet, just palming his cheeks from your perch on the back of his thighs, grabbing lightly and squishing them together to watch the jiggle when you let go. Glancing up, Jisung looks to be asleep still, so you keep on with that for a moment, and then use one hand to spread him to get a view of that cute, little hole. Sliding further down his body, you pull his cheeks apart and lick softly between them, trying to keep an eye out for his reactions to make sure he’s not waking up yet. After a few more soft licks, you hear a soft grunt from above as he shifts, spreading his thighs a bit more in the process, the slight change in position giving you the chance you need to slide his shorts fully down his legs. He’s just in an oversized t-shirt now, legs spread on the bed, still dead to the world as he snuggles into the blanket he’s laying on.
Now with more space to work, you can lick into him with more enthusiasm, still mindful of the sleeping man above you, but not quite willing to hold back when he looks so tempting. As you kiss and lick over his hole, down his perineum and back, his hips start to twitch, just slightly, providing a slight bit of friction to his dick trapped between his body and the bed. He’s loosening up, so you press the tip of your tongue into him, relishing in the quiet, breathy moan he lets out as you start fucking his hole more earnestly with your tongue, feeling yourself getting wetter at the tiny noises he’s making.
One of your hands sneaks into your own panties to swipe through your folds and gather some of your own arousal on your fingers and bring that hand up to Jisung’s hole. Your mouth moves down to lick and suck over his balls while your wet fingers rub over where he’s starting to open up, and you edge in just the tip of one finger, startling a bit at the louder sound that draws from him. Still rubbing your fingers across his hole, you lift your head, surprised to see that he’s somehow still asleep, though he looks more restless now, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open around his own noises.
You draw back and remove your own clothes, tossing them onto the floor beside the bed and move back up to settle beside Jisung. He’s settled a bit now that you’re no longer eating him out, so you experimentally push - oh, so lightly - at his shoulder to try to get him onto his back. It only takes a couple of gentle nudges for his eyebrows to draw down with a noise of annoyance, rolling away from the hand pushing at him.
Once he’s on his back, his erection is finally out in the open, resting against his lower belly, hard and ready and all yours. You straddle him and line yourself up, watching his face as you slide down his length. The moment that you’ve got him fully inside you, his eyes shoot open as his hips jerk up, startling a cry out of you at the feeling. His eyes look wild when he lays them on you, hands grabbing your hips hard while he whimpers and thrusts up instinctively. Normally, you wouldn’t let him get away with bucking up into you without permission, even on accident, but the still-sleepy Jisung doesn’t seem to have the awareness about him to even try to behave, so you just roll your hips against him, and encourage him to move however feels right.
Being given free reign so early into fucking you seems to have scrambled his brain, and his little “ah-ah”s are growing in volume. His eyes will squeeze shut and then immediately reopen to stare up at you in awe, and his hips are rolling up against you now, hitting a spot inside you perfectly. When you move to rub your clit, he looks down to where he’s inside of you and back up to your face, biting his lip with a familiar look of begging.
“What do you want, baby?”
“P-please, let me do it?”
You’ve barely finished giving him a nod when his fingers replace your own and start moving on your clit, trying so hard to make you come before he does, but you know that he’s too close to the edge to succeed. You squeeze around him and grin down at the shout he lets out, head thrown back as he comes inside of you. You keep moving on him, working him through it, but instead of pulling off when he starts whining at the sensitivity, you keep moving.
“Keep going, Sungie, can you give me a little more? Make me feel good.”
That’s all he needs to clench his jaw and nod, thumb finding your clit as he keeps thrusting into you, keeping a rhythm. You know he’s feeling the overstimulation now, but he keeps moving and starts babbling at you, “you gonna come? Please come, baby, I wanna see.”
Your fingernails dig into his chest through his shirt when he grinds up into you just right, and it draws a high-pitched moan from him. “Ah, ba-baby, so amazing, thank you, this was s-so hot, thank you, love this. Oh, fuck, wanna do this all the time.”
Your orgasm finally hits you listening to Jisung’s non-stop chatter about how good he feels. Once you’ve come down a bit from your high, you lay down against his chest, still with him inside you while you both catch your breaths.
“So you enjoyed that?”
He looks at you incredulously, “are you kidding?” At your teasing look, he sticks out his tongue at you. “No, it was horrible, I definitely don’t want you to do that again, every single time you find me asleep for the rest of my life, that would just be terrible.”
You’re laughing now and lean into him for a kiss, smiling into it as he responds enthusiastically, arms wrapping around you from below.
“Got it, never doing that again.”
“Please do that again all the time. A million more times, no! A billion!”
“A billion seems a little over-reaching.”
“It’s not. It still won’t be enough times. So many times. All the times.”
You kiss him again, clenching around his dick still inside of you just to hear him groan.
“A billion, hmm?” He nods with a big grin on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”
335 notes
·
View notes
Text
good vibrations
Pairing: Chan/Jisung
Rating: Explicit 18+
Word Count: 1.3k
Tags and Warnings: trans Chan, Dom/sub undertones, rope bondage, sex toys, vibrators, crying, multiple orgasms, overstimulation
AO3 LINK
“You can come anytime," Jisung licks into Chan's mouth, voice dropping ever so slightly as he pulls back to look down at him, “but I won’t be stopping until I'm satisfied.”
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
SKZ as subs
18+ Minors DNI
A/N: This was kinda rushed so ignore any mistakes you might find. As always, any and all feedback is welcomed!
Keep reading
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
I refer to my father as “Daddy” but refuse to do it in public because of this exact reason. Because people look at me weirdly or laugh or make it sexual. I call my mom “Momma” and it started as a joke but now she looks at me weird if I call her anything differently. I’ve never gotten shamed for that, but it automatically becomes sexual if I call my ACTUAL Dad “Daddy” which is the name I’ve called him since I learned how to say the word
this is like 100% petty all things considered but i just can’t wait until some of u learn that it is absolutely normal for people of any age to refer to their dads as “daddy” in many parts of the south like it isn’t a red flag there. 60 year old women in my family still refer to their dads as “daddy.” and btw i think anyone should be allowed to call their own fathers whatever they want without someone either making it nasty or being accusatory like don’t you get tired of making ppl uncomfortable for no reason
99K notes
·
View notes
