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ikigaitsuki · 25 days
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i forgot about this little treasure!🥰🥰
ᥫ᭡ WE’RE ABOUT TO LOSE EACH OTHER AND I’M FRIGHTENED | y.ji
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Summary — On this field, filled with trees and dandelions and daisies, is a pair of lovers who’s hearts must part but their souls never will. Who will lose in love but not in life. Who are afraid to part but know — they will find one another again.
Pairing — jeongin x gn!reader (they’re wearing a dress but that’s as specific as it gets)
Genre — smut, angst
CW — unprotected sex, kinda public sex, cream pie, marking (hickeys), it’s actually pretty tame
WC — 1864
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Hands, fleeting. Ankles brushing over the newly grown dandelions, sending the pollen flying everywhere. It dances in a strange way – it looks rhythmic, intentional, but in reality, it is as lost as the individuals running between it. It will land wherever it chooses, and grow in that space, awaiting more star-crossed lovers to disrupt its roots.
In his hands, he holds another. The skin warm to the touch, with each ridge and line indented into his memory. He never wants to forget this touch for as long as he lives. And in his other hand, he carries a picnic basket. It’s filled with sandwiches with only a small selection of fillings. There’s biscuits and fruit because he couldn’t quite think of what to pack. He counts himself to be no cook.
The weight of the basket feels so heavy in his arms despite bearing no weight.
His heart feels heavy in his chest, and he swears that this is the first time he’s ever been able to feel such a thing. He doesn’t know whether he wants to throw up or cry. Maybe both.
“Jeongin,”
His family resides on the richest part of the city. With large houses and seemingly everything within their attainment, it feels like an entirely knew world to someone who has never experienced such a thing. Jeongin knows no different, because he was always raised like this. Jeongin knew no different. But he is still kind.
His farther works in technology. It’s a recently new development, so he makes even more money than the average person can imagine. He’s humble, despite it all – a kind man who seeks pleasure from interactions with any sort of person. He likes to help people. He likes to be the reason for change. Most of all, he is proud of the man that his son is growing to be.
His mother is slender and kind – he has her eyes. She’s a surgeon, so she works long hours and on occasion, looks very tired. Although, that is a rarity. She also is well put together. She perhaps is a little shyer than Jeongin’s father is. She may not be the first person you can hear in a room, but she will be the first person you lay eyes on. She is simply gorgeous, and Jeongin is a beautiful reflection of that.
“Jeongin,”
His father recently received a new job opportunity. One that required the family to move to a new country. It may well be the turning point of his career, although that it itself is highly commendable. He sat for a while in silence whilst he processed the news. Here, this is where he lives. But he’s never considered this place home. This merely is a steppingstone. Now that his father has fulfilled his time here, he believes it is time to move on to the next place, so he accepted the job offer.
Yang Jeongin’s house looks bare. It is bare, because he’s moving across the country in under a day and his entire life has been packed into boxes and suitcases.
“Jeongin,” he is removed from his daze, “You’re crying,”
He touches his cheeks, which perspire with heat. His fingers return to his line of sight, and they confirm your statement, “Ah. So I am.” His voice comes out near a choke. He’s embarrassed.
You see, Jeongin feels like a dandelion seed. He was finally settled his roots, he has finally begun to grow in this place he had learned to call home. He had finally found everything that he wanted. But then soil was disrupted and he feels lost. He is floating around.
He wants the Earth to swallow him up. His tears won’t stop. He looks into your eyes and sees stars. He sees the entire universe. He sees the sunrise and the sunset and he sees the interchange of the seasons. He feels you in his orbit; he feels you running through his veins.
And then he realises that he has to leave you, and he sobs.
You’re in love.
It’s naïve and silly and people would probably question why the son of such a successful couple would fall in love with someone so ordinary­, someone, that, if you passed on the street, would hold no significance at all. Replaceable, that’s what they’d think.
But Jeongin doesn’t think so.
Even as your lip wobbles as you try to pour him a drink of pink lemonade that you bought from the nearest convenience store. You look so beautiful, even in sadness. Even when you clutched at one another’s skin, feeling nothing but desperation on the night that Jeongin told you the news that he was in fact leaving.
“Please don’t be sad,” you beg a little. The last thing you want to see is your lover like this. You can see how his heart is hurting. You want to take away that pain.
You realise that you’re crying too.
“I don’t want to let you go,”
“Then don’t. Hold me.” His skin on yours feels just right. The way his hands hold onto you, regardless of where they find themselves positioned. In every way, he is made for you.
It stays silent for a few moments. Your eyes are closed, and you’re taking in the noise – of the city below the high field, of the swishing of the trees and their long leaves in the wind; the cool breeze that ensues as the sun begins to make its disappearance. There isn’t so much time left.
“Jeongin,” his name falls so easily from your lips. It intoxicates the air around it. The boy looks at you with so much sorrow; looks at the dandelion seeds that blow with the gentle breeze, and realises it is much too late to wish for things to change. “Jeongin, make love to me,”
“Here?,”
“Here,” you kiss his tears, “Here on this land and let’s claim it as ours.”
He wastes no single moment, when your body falls into the grass and you feel like the soil yourself. You keep Jeongin rooted. Jeongin helps you grow.
Your sundress is made of a fabric which is soft to the touch. It’s light and easy to fiddle with, so Jeongin can keep dancing with your lips as he pulls it up. He’s not completely hard yet, so he takes his time to grind against you as you lay breathless beneath him. You’re aroused by your own desperation.
“Now,”
“Now.” Jeongin frees himself, carefully pushing aside your underwear before he fits inside you perfectly.
It feels at once as though everything and nothing matters at all. Not that the sun will set, nor rise again, not that the picnic is being discarded, not that Jeongin looks so pretty when he cries, and not that he thinks the same about you. But it also feels as though every second that passes is moving too quickly. It feels as though this is too much – that all of these things are in fact happening, and Jeongin and yourself will part, and your heart will not deal with it.
You clutch onto his biceps as his hips move slowly and rhythmically, something he’s become practiced in when it comes to you. And his eyes never once leave you. He’s grinning at you, but his tears do not cease. He’s moaning above you, but his cries sound pained.
You pull him down further, so that the angle in which he enters you feels deeper, and so his face is clearer to you. Must you not forget every mark on his face, every follicle in which a hair sprouts. His breath hits your neck as he speeds up, and his cries turn to grunts, and your wails turn to desperate utterances for more, to cum, to feel him and to be here.
His lips are soft – but then become harsh. He sucks against the flesh until you feel pain, and you know what he’s doing. You are his, after all. And though the marks he wishes to leave behind will not last forever, he knows that his intent will. He has ruined you for anyone who could ever come after him. This son of a businessman, this son of a surgeon, he lives such a blessed live that he has only cursed you with.
“I’m yours,” you cry out, when the pain becomes insufferable, and it blurs into pleasure.
He lifts his head so that his nose brushes yours, “Even after I’m gone, tell me I’ll be yours,”
“Forever.” you kiss, softly, and it burns. You can’t tire of his lips.
Love is a silly thing. It makes us feel such emotions, makes us become weak without realising, makes our hearts beat faster until they are ripped out before us. You will not stop loving Jeongin once he’s gone, and neither will you forget him. You will wait, and live this ordinary life, and hope that he doesn’t meet someone new once he settles in elsewhere, somewhere in a place you can only imagine, and you hope that he’ll return and tell you that there wasn’t and will never be anyone other than you.
He pulls your sundress up further, and pulls himself upward so that he can gain a better view of himself entering you. Not much longer, and he will topple over the edge. The view of this, and of your cheeks stained with tears, and of your pupils enlarged as you look at him with absolute adoration – this will be enough.
“I’m going to cum,” you whisper.
He says, “Me too.”
And he interlocks his fingers with yours, feeling the blades of grass that slip between and that comfort you. His hips stagger a few more times, and your mouths are open, breathless and panting into one another’s. Jeongin closes his eyes and sees stars. You close your eyes and see the moon.
This is how it’s meant to be.
Not with Jeongin’s family finding success elsewhere, not with the fear of being forgotten.
You’re supposed to be here, let Jeongin roam your skin and let your fingers taint his body so that anyone who wishes to touch him only feels you.
This is how it’s meant to be.
“I’m frightened,” you admit. You grasp both sides of his face, just where his jawline is, “We’re about to lose each other, and I’m frightened,”
“I know,” he kisses your shoulder blade as he slowly pulls out because he doesn’t want to cry again, leaking his essence from you, “But stay here, alright? Stay here, for me.”
You hold him, because that’s all you can do. In this field where there are trees and flowers and animals and the disregarded picnic blanket, where an onlooker might find it all insignificant but to you it is the entire world, you sob. Because that’s all you can do. And that’s all that he can do, because he needs to go soon.
“Stay here,” he whispers, his voice wobbling, “Stay here, and let me find you.”
It’s quiet, aside from your cries.
“Stay here. And if years pass, I will find you. Let’s find each other, and we can learn how to love again.”
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© ikigaitsuki 2022
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ikigaitsuki · 1 month
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heeseung tho.
we need not say anymore. yes.
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ikigaitsuki · 1 month
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it’s okay to have clumsy and awkward sex and it’s actually really common
the ability to laugh while you’re lying tangled and naked together bc you realize just how silly something is is really really intimate and trusting, and it’s the best feeling to be like that with someone and to be relaxed
it happens with long-term partners, it happens on hookups, and it’s rarely as bad as it’s always made out to be, except we usually think it’s bad we're told that’s not how sex is supposed to go. but that’s not true. 
it can still be passionate and intimate while being messy and clumsy, absolutely. you don’t need to “perform well.” sex isn’t a show: it’s about feeling good. sometimes it takes experimenting to figure out what feels good, and fumbles and awkward moments and laughter is all just part of it. sometimes that’s a huge part of the fun.
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ikigaitsuki · 1 month
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(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻
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ikigaitsuki · 5 months
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Hello lovely,
Idk if I ever sent you a message but if I did I'm sorry but here it is again and if I didn't well, here it is.
Your fic for Spirit and Mixer is my ABSOLUTE favourite fic ever. It's so beautifully well written and always leaves me wanting more. It's a comfort fic, it's a spicy fics it's just everything!
I'm not good with expressing my words very well but I'm trying to best.
The way this fic makes me feel....idk man...but I keep coming back for more. I've lost count how many times I've read it. It's so seductive and alluring I just- can I live this life ahahah
Anyway thanks for the best fic I've ever read. Stay safe and healthy 💖
hello! it’s been a while since i’ve checked this account so this is a late reply - sorry!
thank you for taking the time to tell me this, it’s so annoying when i just say i really appreciate it, but i do! i wish there was a better way for me to express it!
i haven’t written for a very long time now so it’s always wonderful to hear from people that they still read my work or that things stick with them.
thank you so much for taking the time to reach out, i hope you’re well too🩷🫶🏼
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ikigaitsuki · 8 months
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ᥫ᭡ IT STARTS AND ENDS WITH YOU | k.th
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Summary — In everything that he does, it is you. It was you, and it will always be you.
Pairing — taehyun x gn!reader
Genre — just angst
TW — implied loss, but not specified in what ways
WC — 857
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a/n: something a little (very) different to my usual.
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Cold.
That’s how the bed feels once Taehyun arises and the realisation sets in that this is another morning, another day in which he is going to spend without you. His heart aches, and he wishes he could sleep a little longer — long enough to see this through, to lessen the burning that never ceases in his sternum. Taehyun doesn’t understand how he still feels the pain.
Keep reading
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ikigaitsuki · 8 months
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i randomly thought of this piece and read it for the first time in forever. something about solemn writing gets me!
ᥫ᭡ LIE TO ME | c.s
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Summary — Just for now, if only for an evening, I want you to lie to me and pretend that everything is alright. I want to pretend we will wake beside one another, warm and in one another's hold, and act like this is all but a bad dream.
Genre — Angst, Suggestive
Pairing — San x female reader
CW — Breakup AU, implied sexual content.
WC — 2,619
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Requested: By this lovely anon. I realised that this wasn't so much soft angst as requested, but I say go all in. I still hope you like it.
a/n: i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing! it's a nice change to alter from explicit works - i'll do it more often.
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From the basis of appearance alone, you would look like two people heavily in love, doting on one another and sharing sweet nothings - promises of the future, promises from the past, a chivalrous exclamation of your trust and growth.
But on this table tonight it was not that. It was not two doting lovers letting the time go by without realising. The time was going by and both parties realised, eyes intently staring on the metaphorical clock with the hands striking above the table. Eventually the sand inside the timer hits the bottom with nothing left to give and nothing more to fill and eventually the match burns to the end and loses its heat.
To love is a hell of a feeling. To both love and lose is another entirely.
With the same lips you kiss one another with, you lie with. You lie about still loving each other despite knowing you had more than run your course. You thrived on familiarity in a world full of constant change, worried when the only things that were permanent in your life threatened to depart, but now, now all you wanted to do was rejoice in the feeling of freedom that was slowly filling you from the inside. There is only so long we can hold ourselves back before we realise we are hurting ourselves in doing so.
With the same lips you kiss one another with, you lie with. You lie about still loving each other despite knowing you had more than run your course. You thrived on familiarity in a world full of constant change, worried when the only things that were permanent in your life threatened to depart, but now, now all you wanted to do was rejoice in the feeling of freedom that was slowly filling you from the inside. There is only so long we can hold ourselves back before we realise we are hurting ourselves in doing so.
With the same lips you kiss one another with, you lie with. You lie about still loving each other despite knowing you had more than run your course. You thrived on familiarity in a world full of constant change, worried when the only things that were permanent in your life threatened to depart, but now, now all you wanted to do was rejoice in the feeling of freedom that was slowly filling you from the inside. There is only so long we can hold ourselves back before we realise we are hurting ourselves in doing so.
There's a sense of desperation as San speaks, "Is there really nothing we can do? Are we really giving up this easily on lo-,"
"This," you gesture with your finger swinging between yourself and San, "This is not love. You know it and you're lying to yourself if you think it is," your words come out more seething than you expect, and even San is visibly taken aback in his seat.
You're right though, and San knows it too.
This is not love.
Love is not having mindless sex with one another just because your bodies are telling you that you desire it, love is not eating your meals at separate times in the day or in different rooms because if you so much as look at one another with indifference it will result in a rage-filled argument. Love is not doubt and love is not worry.
And love is certainly not a feeling shared between the two of you.
There was once a time it was, of course, when San's love took the forms of small written notes with sweet messages, and when his love was surprise flowers delivered to your desk at work. When he showed he cared, and you cared too because you did those little things in return for him. San showed his feelings through gestures, some grander and larger than others but the thing that stayed the same was how your heart swooned every time.
Eventually though, the gifts stopped - the small gestures and the letters with cute stickers and glitter and his cursive handwriting that barely even matched his personality. It eventually had gotten so long that you forgot the way he held his pen in his hand, you forgot the colours of glitter he used to mix, and you forgot just how much you meant to him. But you're guilty too, right?
Because you stopped too, you stopped caring where he was and if he wouldn't be back from work in time for dinner. It hurt you more than anything that you began to feel that way, but nobody can stop the awareness creeping in at the absence of love once it has already departed. Now, all it was and all it had been was a waiting game to see who would finally speak first about the issues that had long been brimming. No dates or attempts to salvage this relationship seemed worthwhile, and you both knew this, absentmindedly eating your food - or would it be more suitable to say picking at it? Because your appetites were being lost at an even faster rate than your love was.
"What do you want from me now?," San asks you, and you aren't really sure what he means because the question is such as open ended one.
"I'm not really sure how to answer that," you're honest, and he appreciates that because it's been a long while since you've spoken the truth to one another.
It’s a strange and mutual feeling that settles between you both, because despite the agreement of breaking up, here tonight, there’s still a sense of doubt and lingering lost thoughts that somewhat hold you back. It’s reliving past years of your life - happier, more joyous times, combined with heart wrenching, painful times. It’s knowing that what once was is no more. We all want to fall in love - to be in love. Some of us are just luckier at obtaining it.
You took the wine glass in your hand, staring down at the liquid inside hoping that somehow it would swallow you up instead.
"Then at least tell me where we went wrong," the words from San's lips almost have a sense of despair attached to them - almost. And it's the use of the word 'we' rather than 'I' that makes your heart sink that little bit further in your chest. An acknowledgement that neither of you failed the other individually, but that it occurred simultaneously, in such a way that not only one member in this relationship can be blamed.
"I think in many ways we failed one another," you begin, hesitant. It's a foreign conversation, "I think as time went on we both realised that there was no love here anymore,"
San sits in silence, thinking of what to say, idly playing around at the meal he had long lost his appetite for.
"I'll always love you. Just not enough for it to be enough," many months of honesty is flying around the table tonight, and just maybe if these utterances were heard of sooner, things would be okay.
Your heart shatters at San's words. Because it was enough, then, and always, and it wasn't that he didn't make you feel like the only person in the whole world, but that you both wanted, needed, craved different things and your lives couldn't continue on together.
The conversation dissipates into silence. No more could be said for it would be wasted breath. Instead, your eyes meet one another in silence, and you both become very much aware that the chance to salvage anything at all was gone entirely.
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The cab drive back to your apartment is silent - quiet. Once a time there was that you wouldn't be able to keep your hands from one another, laughing into each others mouths as you drunkenly tried to sneak kisses in the dark. There is no more laughter, it feels solemn, yet calm.
The walk up to the apartment showcases indifference - distance from one another instead of the usual hand of San's snaking around your waist and pulling you in. For a second you find yourself wishing you could be close enough to smell his cologne. Now, it was nothing but a mere distant smell. Was it that you were forgetting already?
Pushing through the door that once was yours, and is now just someone's, not even the welcoming lights of the lounge area can settle you. The sofa has pillows and a duvet ready for whoever decides its theirs, and your photos of one another are face-down. It feels passive aggressive, like it's intentionally meant to sting like a bad wound.
A room, an apartment, that once was filled with love and hope and promises didn't seem as bright as it did yesterday. Or even three hours ago. The scent of your favourite candle disregarded on the coffee table was no longer welcoming, and was in fact intoxicating in all the worst ways.
It smells like the day San came home from work during a thunderstorm, rain drenching his clothes as he kicked off his sodden shoes by the door and gave you an apologetic smile as you stared in shock from the sofa at his drenched, shivering figure in the doorway.
It smelt like movie nights with popcorn and San resting softly in your lap with your fingers carding through his hair slowly. Like those nights where he tried so hard not to drift off into sleep under your touch but he did so every time, waking up as the credits rolled out and you placed an empty bowl of popcorn beside you.
It smells like days gone by - but not regretted. It smells like days that could have continued.
"Hey," San wraps his arms around you from behind as you stared out into the lounge before you. His grasp is weak, either that he's hesitant or he's given up just like you have, "You think too much."
He knows what's on your mind, and he hates the idea of these thoughts running around your head. San doesn't want his last evening by your side to be filled with solemn unspoken thoughts. You're both no longer suited to one another, you know this - and the past serves as shackles.
"I'm sorry," you close your eyes in his clutch, smelling that cologne you so badly wanted to earlier, "I know we will never work again, but can you kiss me one last time?," Your voice shakes at your own request, but the remorse that would've threatened you the next morning had you not asked for this would have swallowed you whole.
San turns you slowly, lips meeting yours like its the first time and not the thousandth, timid and slow and he doesn't know at what pace to take it, but if you are to really spend one last night together then so be it. Take your time and act as though there will be another day to spend together in this room.
Kissing San like this gives you that butterflies feeling in your stomach you all but missed, warming you up from the inside and causing you to melt into his delicate touch. Kissing San like this make you glad you asked for just one more time. Just one last time to savour his taste before it gets lost forever.
Your hands, and San's too, trace wherever they can, feeling the radiating heat of one another's bodies as your lips tenderly dance with one another. There is fever, desire, and it doesn't go ignored as you lightly moan into each other's mouths. The heat in the room is suffocating, and you pull away to meet his gaze.
He harbours a look of longing, as though he's asking 'Shall we really be doing this? Is this really okay?', and of course it's not, really, but you're doing this for the girl that first met that boy from the subway three and a half years ago. If not for you both right now, it's for them, and what they had, and what they've lost.
And in this room tonight you realised you were two people trying to be in love although you were everything but. Timid desperation that for one last time you could look one another in the eyes and feel so much as a glint of admiration, that perhaps, in another dimension it wouldn’t end like this and you’ll wake up beside one another, arms wrapped tightly.
But that won’t be the case, you realise. Someone will be waking up alone, caught up in the lingering scent of sex and a lost lover, and nobody will envy that awful gut feeling that will soon be instilled. For now, you pretend everything is okay - you can deal with emotions at a later time.
"My favourite thing is when your cheeks get all flushed after we kiss," San whispers, like it's more for himself than you, but you hear anyway.
"Mine is when you're all sleepy and your voice is rumbly in the morning,"
San just smiles, forehead pressing against yours, and you share a moment of solidarity in knowing that these are the small things that you'll miss. It's the things such as these that will play on your minds long after one another's departures.
And it’s the harsh feeling - realisation, even, of knowing that you were everything but one another’s. That you couldn’t give anymore than you had and that the damage was beyond repair.
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You find yourself underneath San, in the sheets of the bed that was yours. His hair is dishevelled, muscles in his abdomen contracting and releasing with every movement.
For a moment you see his eyes well with tears and it makes you panic - what if he really didn’t want this to be the end, perhaps it was a façade to protect himself because once your mind was made up he could do nothing but accept this fate?
Or maybe it was that you were crying too, hot tears streaming down your face because you want so badly to just love him like you once had. It sets in your stomach that you really do not want to be free - this feels like a nightmare. His hand wipes at your cheeks, and you long for your heart to swoon.
Perhaps San decided having sex with you like this would make you both realise just how much you needed one another. To have someone else’s skin on yours after he had touched it would be entirely unfamiliar, and the thought crosses his mind that he wants to etch as much of himself into you than he already has over the past few years so that you are left untouchable by anybody but him.
For a long time, you will miss the touches of one another, the steam climbing the shower walls as you spent far too long in there with him, lips grazing your intimate areas, or the disarrangement of the pillows and duvets after a long, intimate night. You will miss, as San will too, the rolling of your names from one another's mouths as you declare your love for one another.
And for a long time, you will miss the sweet moments, where he tries to cook and subsequently doesn't do the greatest job - but it's still delicious, because he did it for you. And you will miss the way he used to write poems for you, glitter sprayed out all over the paper in a beautiful mess.
But all good things must come to an end, right?
The soft grinding of San's hips into you has you softly calling out to him, whispering.
"I love you," you don't even care that you said it, or care enough to acknowledge it.
"I love you too," his lips attach to your neck.
You're both liars, but alas, for one night if you can just create the illusion of two souls in love, it can provide enough comfort to see you through to the morning.
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© ikigaitsuki. no unauthorised copying or reposting is allowed.
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ikigaitsuki · 8 months
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seeing all the interactions i still get on my posts even though i’m not really around anymore is the sweetest thing ever. anytime i come back and have a look at what’s going on it fills me with the nicest feeling, so thank you😊😊
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ikigaitsuki · 9 months
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besotted | l.hs
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Summary — A seemingly innocent invite over. The clutching onto one another’s skin as though either person would leave if given the chance. The subsequent feeling of love - of us, and the sharing of one another.
Pairing — Heeseung x gn!reader
Genre — smut, fluff
CW — protected sex, love making, mutual pining, this is very soft i’m in my feels ok, oral (m. receiving).
Word count — 2,493
Part of the 12 days of xxxmas series (this one is v timid)
a/n: dear god, when is it my turn?
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Come over.
There’s something so insanely promiscuous about those two words when they flash up on a phone screen. The implications - what’s the meaning?
You discard your phone lazily on the pillows of your bed, heart racing as you await a reply. It’s not that rejection is likely, more so that regardless of how eager both of you may be - it’s a possibility still.
Inviting Lee Heeseung to your house, when he’s never been before, never even seen past the colour of your front door or much of your room beyond the headboard when you facetime on late evenings, is nothing short of nerve wracking.
And as the simple response of, “Give me 15 and I’ll be there,” illuminates your phone screen, the panic doesn’t subside.
In fact, it only worsens as he stares at you with that same soft glint in his eyes, waiting to be invited in as he stands on the door mat.
How does one go about it in this way? Do you still need formalities? A cup of tea and biscuits maybe? Sit on the couch for a little while and discuss things like middle aged people meeting after a long time apart?
You settle against those options, and for good reason.
“Come in,” you smile, distracting yourself from the barrage of thoughts that certainty would fuck this up if the man before you could hear them, “It’s the room on the right, all the way down the corridor. You need a drink or anything?,”
God, cut the formalities. You know this guy, very well acquainted what with your wonderful rendezvous and evenings in the local cafe, and don’t forget the dressed up dates you’d had, the exchanging of gifts together and the apparent fondness you both harbour for one another but are too scared to share.
“No, I’ll be fine,” Heeseung just smiles at you as he leaves his shoes by the front door, and saunters off to the bedroom.
Too abrupt? No time to think about that now.
To be honest, you’d wanted to hold out for as long as possible, wanted to see how long you could take staring into those big, brown eyes of his before the string of tension snapped. And to be honest, you’d been doing pretty well with it.
But the eagerness to know him more than through words - with physical touch too, was basically killing you.
And finding Heeseung already searching through the endless shithole of programmes on Netflix whilst lying comfortably on your bed as you entered your bedroom was somewhat endearing.
“Comfortable already, I see,” you quip.
“You’d think I’m weird if I wasn’t.”
True. All you think about is the further subsequent implications of Netflix being Heeseung’s choice of streaming service. You have plenty more available.
Why that one?
Nobody ever watches Netflix.
Nobody ever watc-
Shit.
You try to relax as you melt into Heeseung’s touch, his body warm even though there’s layers of clothing between his skin.
But it’s proving hard, literally and figuratively, because you can’t focus on the movie on your TV at all. Heeseung just looks too fucking good, and of course you asked him over here for good reason, but now you’re in a situation where you can change the mood, you’re sort of feeling a little lost.
It has you feeling like you’re new to this whole thing, even when you’re not.
But this is a first with Heeseung.
And you’re nervous with the anticipation of what he is like.
And no, not as a person. You know that much already. You mean in bed - naked, hot body on your own, lips dancing on your neck and fingers playing with your-
“You’re supposed to stare at the TV, not me,” Heeseung’s gaze melts into you, and you feel on the spot that you could curl up and die, quite simply.
“Heeseung,” you didn’t mean to whine, you swear, but either way you don’t regret it when Heeseung’s lips encase your own in a way that’s different to the many times you’ve done it before.
There’s a certain hunger, a certain need and desire that you’re more than happy in this moment to indulge in.
You never want your lips to part as he pulls the duvet to allow you both under it. You don’t want to lose the momentum of the situation, and so you grip at the plain white shirt he chose to wear today.
Perhaps it be the whirlpool of emotions or just that Lee Heeseung is that attractive - that even a plain garment can look expensive on him, but you feel like you’re only just realising how good looking he is.
You wet your lips as you hungrily stare at Heeseung’s bare torso once his shirt is removed and discarded wherever the fuck your throw managed to land it, and you bask even more so in the way his breathing is ragged already, eyes never once leaving your lips.
Heeseung feels at ease seeing you like this, because unbeknownst to you, the pounding in his heart isn’t from arousal alone.
He’s in conflict - wanting to be slow and sensual with your body because this is the first time you’re seeing one another like this, but also wanting to devour you, ravish you and leave you both fulfilled and yet gasping for more.
He decides not to make his mind up yet.
Instead, he stares at how you chose to wear nothing under your hoodie. He can’t believe you look this good in such simple clothes.
“You’re amazing,” he breathes against your sternum as you move to now straddle his hips.
The light praise rolls off his tongue so easily, it reminds you of the caramel sauce he always makes sure there’s an abundance of when you order an iced coffee - sweet and moreish.
You want to hear more, feel more, be more in the moment than you already are.
Grinding on Heeseung’s erection through his trousers, your abdomen fills with excitement at the thought of what hopefully, moments later, will be filling you.
“You feel really big,” you admit, and you feel shy, so you’re glad that Heeseung also avoids eye contact and instead works at your nipples.
His lips are soft, timid, and you love it. There’s a fondness that floats around the situation and you both think it’s one sided, so you don’t speak on it.
Pulling his lips away from your chest, you face him closer now. He already looks dishevelled and heated; it fills you with excitement, and an essence of proudness because you’re the reason Heeseung looks like this right now.
And with delivering a quick peck to his lips, you dive down under the covers to meet your face with his crotch, pulling down his trousers and boxers in as natural as a motion as you can - which ultimately fails, and results in Heeseung shuffling his hips to help you.
Taking his cock into your hands finally, you’re trying to make a mental note of how big he is whilst simultaneously beginning to press your lips to the tip.
The taste of precum hits your tongue almost instantly, and with the way Heeseung hisses, you continue to deliver attention to the head - soft kissing and licks that send him into overdrive instantly. His hands rest atop your head, no intention of ever trying to take the control from you, but they’re there more as a symbol of support, in some way.
Licking up his shaft before you fully take Heeseung into your mouth, you feel the breeze of the duvet being lifted so that he can finally see you. In another circumstance, you’d feel shy, but hearing the way his breath labours and he moans softly, you know that you’re doing enough.
When accompanying the ministrations of your mouth with a lazy up and down, twist of your wrist makes Heeseung hiss between his teeth, you know to keep doing that. When working with a new partner, spending the time to find the simple things that make their body tense is most important.
And so when Heeseung tells you that, “It’s so sexy when you do it like that,” with your mouth sloppily lapping at him and your throat humming against him, you might just die.
The eye contact is intense as you see the way he earnestly watches you, bottom lip caught between his teeth to avoid releasing any expletives.
And as much as you’d like to stay here like this, and pleasure Heeseung like this to fulfilment, you know that there’s more on both of your minds.
For you, though, your mind simply enters a haze as the man kisses you without a regard for the fact your lips have been wrapped around his crotch only moments ago. It sets alight a fire in you that before had never been lit before.
“Hee,” you whisper against his lips.
“Condom?,” he asks, knowing what you want.
“Top drawer.”
And he rummages and quickly finds one, opening the packet and sliding the latex over himself as you busy yourself with the removal of your bottoms.
You expect to ride him, and so hover over him until he flips you over, back resting softly in the abundance of pillows by your headrest. What a peculiar feeling arising in Heeseung’s stomach as he takes in the view which he’s only seen through the screen of his phone.
And the feeling doesn’t cease as he eases himself slowly into you, slight stretch on your part due to the lack of preparation, but there’s a sense of desperation in the air, even if it’s not spoken.
“So tight,” Heeseung muses into the skin of your neck, “My God, y/n, you’re so tight,”
You’d respond if you could, but instead you drink in the feeling of slowly being impaled, and it’s blissful. The slow drive of Heeseung’s hips in and out of you, shallow and shy until he feels the way you relax around him and your grip on his biceps loosens.
Only then does he build up a rhythm. One that has you wrapping your legs around him, hands clutching either side of his face as you engage in sloppy kisses, lips sometimes gliding completely past one another.
“Do you feel good?,” Heeseung manages to ask as he hits a spot deeper inside you. There’s a neediness in his voice that indicates he’s eager to please.
“So good, Hee,” you press your foreheads together, “You feel so good inside me,”
It’s really taking everything for Heeseung to last, even with the condom around him there’s a closeness he can’t quite place, an intimacy that feels further than two bodies fuelled by arousal. He’s scared to confess in this moment how he really feels, just on the off chance that you think his words lack sincerity.
So he doesn’t say anything.
But later, he swears that he will.
And you throw your head back into the pillow with glee, neck on full display as Heeseung attaches his lips delicately. You wish that you could tell him more than that it feels good, that you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing.
You wish that you could find words that would hold more substance, but you’re not really sure that he would believe you when you’re clouded by the feeling building in your stomach.
Still, you clutch onto one another as Heeseung switches the position, this time with your legs over his shoulders, and your heart melts at the way he kisses at the skin of your ankles, grip so light it’s like his touch isn’t even there.
He would turn you around, but he doesn’t want to miss the way your face contorts in that of pleasure when he reaches so impossibly deep inside you. And he doesn’t want you to miss the way his own brows furrow, the way his voice is rough with the way he snaps into you now.
The new angle has you crying out, so loud that the TV in the background doesn’t even suffice as a distraction anymore. The noises are no longer inhibited to these four walls.
“Shhh,” Heeseung slows his hips but never ceases his rhythm, “I don’t want anyone else to hear you, baby,”
Baby.
Baby.
Holy shit does that tighten the knot in your stomach.
“Heeseung!,” you cry out, arms trying to reach for him but failing. You’re trying to tell him that you’re close, and the man doesn’t help the situation as he leans forward, your own legs pressing against yourself in a way that allows Heeseung even deeper into you, so much so that he feels a part of you now.
Locking your fingers in his against the coolness of your pillow, you release breathy moans and cries of his name as you come undone. You try to keep the words back, but your mind is so foggy that you forget what you’re really saying.
“Oh my god, Heeseung, I love you!,”
His breath is rough in your ear as he moans out, cum filling the condom as he confesses back the same words to you.
“I love you, wow-, I love you,” his body is warm against yours, and as you come down you can finally feel the cramping of your legs.
Sitting back on his knees, Heeseung slows his breathing as he removes the condom. Watching the way he moves the hair from his eyes makes you swoon.
God, are you fond of this Lee Heeseung.
But isn’t he so fond of you?
You sit up to encase your arms around his figure, and fall back into the sheets. It’s hot and humid and there’s the smell of sex that’s dancing around the room, but you don’t mind. You feel a closeness now that you’ve longed for for a long time.
You’re glad that it’s Heeseung with you now, in this moment as you feel as though every memory with him so far is passing you by, clear pictures in your mind.
It’s a funny thing, how our firsts with everyone are so treasured. Sure, it’s not your first time having sex, neither is it his, but it’s your first with one another. It’s calming, and reassuring, in a way, that the feelings you have aren’t one sided.
But how could they have been?
“Shall we take a shower?,” you mumble the question against the sheen of sweat on Heeseung’s shoulder.
He hums over the question for a little while, before he grins, “Can’t we just stay like this for now? Just a little bit longer, please,”
And he clutches you tighter, as though you would get up and leave - but you never would.
Instead, you stay there as requested, a content feeling rising through every beat of your heart.
And with every further consequential strum, you feel your eyes close, falling into a slumber in the warmth of your lover.
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© ikigaitsuki. no unauthorised copying or reposting is allowed.
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ikigaitsuki · 9 months
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ᥫ᭡ WE’RE ABOUT TO LOSE EACH OTHER AND I’M FRIGHTENED | y.ji
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Summary — On this field, filled with trees and dandelions and daisies, is a pair of lovers who’s hearts must part but their souls never will. Who will lose in love but not in life. Who are afraid to part but know — they will find one another again.
Pairing — jeongin x gn!reader (they’re wearing a dress but that’s as specific as it gets)
Genre — smut, angst
CW — unprotected sex, kinda public sex, cream pie, marking (hickeys), it’s actually pretty tame
WC — 1864
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Hands, fleeting. Ankles brushing over the newly grown dandelions, sending the pollen flying everywhere. It dances in a strange way – it looks rhythmic, intentional, but in reality, it is as lost as the individuals running between it. It will land wherever it chooses, and grow in that space, awaiting more star-crossed lovers to disrupt its roots.
In his hands, he holds another. The skin warm to the touch, with each ridge and line indented into his memory. He never wants to forget this touch for as long as he lives. And in his other hand, he carries a picnic basket. It’s filled with sandwiches with only a small selection of fillings. There’s biscuits and fruit because he couldn’t quite think of what to pack. He counts himself to be no cook.
The weight of the basket feels so heavy in his arms despite bearing no weight.
His heart feels heavy in his chest, and he swears that this is the first time he’s ever been able to feel such a thing. He doesn’t know whether he wants to throw up or cry. Maybe both.
“Jeongin,”
His family resides on the richest part of the city. With large houses and seemingly everything within their attainment, it feels like an entirely knew world to someone who has never experienced such a thing. Jeongin knows no different, because he was always raised like this. Jeongin knew no different. But he is still kind.
His farther works in technology. It’s a recently new development, so he makes even more money than the average person can imagine. He’s humble, despite it all – a kind man who seeks pleasure from interactions with any sort of person. He likes to help people. He likes to be the reason for change. Most of all, he is proud of the man that his son is growing to be.
His mother is slender and kind – he has her eyes. She’s a surgeon, so she works long hours and on occasion, looks very tired. Although, that is a rarity. She also is well put together. She perhaps is a little shyer than Jeongin’s father is. She may not be the first person you can hear in a room, but she will be the first person you lay eyes on. She is simply gorgeous, and Jeongin is a beautiful reflection of that.
“Jeongin,”
His father recently received a new job opportunity. One that required the family to move to a new country. It may well be the turning point of his career, although that it itself is highly commendable. He sat for a while in silence whilst he processed the news. Here, this is where he lives. But he’s never considered this place home. This merely is a steppingstone. Now that his father has fulfilled his time here, he believes it is time to move on to the next place, so he accepted the job offer.
Yang Jeongin’s house looks bare. It is bare, because he’s moving across the country in under a day and his entire life has been packed into boxes and suitcases.
“Jeongin,” he is removed from his daze, “You’re crying,”
He touches his cheeks, which perspire with heat. His fingers return to his line of sight, and they confirm your statement, “Ah. So I am.” His voice comes out near a choke. He’s embarrassed.
You see, Jeongin feels like a dandelion seed. He was finally settled his roots, he has finally begun to grow in this place he had learned to call home. He had finally found everything that he wanted. But then soil was disrupted and he feels lost. He is floating around.
He wants the Earth to swallow him up. His tears won’t stop. He looks into your eyes and sees stars. He sees the entire universe. He sees the sunrise and the sunset and he sees the interchange of the seasons. He feels you in his orbit; he feels you running through his veins.
And then he realises that he has to leave you, and he sobs.
You’re in love.
It’s naïve and silly and people would probably question why the son of such a successful couple would fall in love with someone so ordinary­, someone, that, if you passed on the street, would hold no significance at all. Replaceable, that’s what they’d think.
But Jeongin doesn’t think so.
Even as your lip wobbles as you try to pour him a drink of pink lemonade that you bought from the nearest convenience store. You look so beautiful, even in sadness. Even when you clutched at one another’s skin, feeling nothing but desperation on the night that Jeongin told you the news that he was in fact leaving.
“Please don’t be sad,” you beg a little. The last thing you want to see is your lover like this. You can see how his heart is hurting. You want to take away that pain.
You realise that you’re crying too.
“I don’t want to let you go,”
“Then don’t. Hold me.” His skin on yours feels just right. The way his hands hold onto you, regardless of where they find themselves positioned. In every way, he is made for you.
It stays silent for a few moments. Your eyes are closed, and you’re taking in the noise – of the city below the high field, of the swishing of the trees and their long leaves in the wind; the cool breeze that ensues as the sun begins to make its disappearance. There isn’t so much time left.
“Jeongin,” his name falls so easily from your lips. It intoxicates the air around it. The boy looks at you with so much sorrow; looks at the dandelion seeds that blow with the gentle breeze, and realises it is much too late to wish for things to change. “Jeongin, make love to me,”
“Here?,”
“Here,” you kiss his tears, “Here on this land and let’s claim it as ours.”
He wastes no single moment, when your body falls into the grass and you feel like the soil yourself. You keep Jeongin rooted. Jeongin helps you grow.
Your sundress is made of a fabric which is soft to the touch. It’s light and easy to fiddle with, so Jeongin can keep dancing with your lips as he pulls it up. He’s not completely hard yet, so he takes his time to grind against you as you lay breathless beneath him. You’re aroused by your own desperation.
“Now,”
“Now.” Jeongin frees himself, carefully pushing aside your underwear before he fits inside you perfectly.
It feels at once as though everything and nothing matters at all. Not that the sun will set, nor rise again, not that the picnic is being discarded, not that Jeongin looks so pretty when he cries, and not that he thinks the same about you. But it also feels as though every second that passes is moving too quickly. It feels as though this is too much – that all of these things are in fact happening, and Jeongin and yourself will part, and your heart will not deal with it.
You clutch onto his biceps as his hips move slowly and rhythmically, something he’s become practiced in when it comes to you. And his eyes never once leave you. He’s grinning at you, but his tears do not cease. He’s moaning above you, but his cries sound pained.
You pull him down further, so that the angle in which he enters you feels deeper, and so his face is clearer to you. Must you not forget every mark on his face, every follicle in which a hair sprouts. His breath hits your neck as he speeds up, and his cries turn to grunts, and your wails turn to desperate utterances for more, to cum, to feel him and to be here.
His lips are soft – but then become harsh. He sucks against the flesh until you feel pain, and you know what he’s doing. You are his, after all. And though the marks he wishes to leave behind will not last forever, he knows that his intent will. He has ruined you for anyone who could ever come after him. This son of a businessman, this son of a surgeon, he lives such a blessed live that he has only cursed you with.
“I’m yours,” you cry out, when the pain becomes insufferable, and it blurs into pleasure.
He lifts his head so that his nose brushes yours, “Even after I’m gone, tell me I’ll be yours,”
“Forever.” you kiss, softly, and it burns. You can’t tire of his lips.
Love is a silly thing. It makes us feel such emotions, makes us become weak without realising, makes our hearts beat faster until they are ripped out before us. You will not stop loving Jeongin once he’s gone, and neither will you forget him. You will wait, and live this ordinary life, and hope that he doesn’t meet someone new once he settles in elsewhere, somewhere in a place you can only imagine, and you hope that he’ll return and tell you that there wasn’t and will never be anyone other than you.
He pulls your sundress up further, and pulls himself upward so that he can gain a better view of himself entering you. Not much longer, and he will topple over the edge. The view of this, and of your cheeks stained with tears, and of your pupils enlarged as you look at him with absolute adoration – this will be enough.
“I’m going to cum,” you whisper.
He says, “Me too.”
And he interlocks his fingers with yours, feeling the blades of grass that slip between and that comfort you. His hips stagger a few more times, and your mouths are open, breathless and panting into one another’s. Jeongin closes his eyes and sees stars. You close your eyes and see the moon.
This is how it’s meant to be.
Not with Jeongin’s family finding success elsewhere, not with the fear of being forgotten.
You’re supposed to be here, let Jeongin roam your skin and let your fingers taint his body so that anyone who wishes to touch him only feels you.
This is how it’s meant to be.
“I’m frightened,” you admit. You grasp both sides of his face, just where his jawline is, “We’re about to lose each other, and I’m frightened,”
“I know,” he kisses your shoulder blade as he slowly pulls out because he doesn’t want to cry again, leaking his essence from you, “But stay here, alright? Stay here, for me.”
You hold him, because that’s all you can do. In this field where there are trees and flowers and animals and the disregarded picnic blanket, where an onlooker might find it all insignificant but to you it is the entire world, you sob. Because that’s all you can do. And that’s all that he can do, because he needs to go soon.
“Stay here,” he whispers, his voice wobbling, “Stay here, and let me find you.”
It’s quiet, aside from your cries.
“Stay here. And if years pass, I will find you. Let’s find each other, and we can learn how to love again.”
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© ikigaitsuki 2022
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ikigaitsuki · 10 months
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hi hope you have a good day <3
hi! i jump on here every few weeks just to have a look at how things are on here these days, hence the late reply
hope you’ve been taking care of yourself and doing well! it’s been a while🫂
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ikigaitsuki · 11 months
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the day is so long when ur off work and you still wake up before 7am anyway. what a beautiful world there is many hours in a day
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ikigaitsuki · 11 months
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♡ ♡ ♡̷ ♡ ྀ you’ve got a mail! 📭
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💜💜thank you for this!! keep safe, you’re doing well!
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ikigaitsuki · 1 year
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Seonghwa • Tower of Truth
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ikigaitsuki · 1 year
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seonghwa // inception
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ikigaitsuki · 1 year
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504 notes · View notes
ikigaitsuki · 1 year
Text
besotted | l.hs
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Summary — A seemingly innocent invite over. The clutching onto one another’s skin as though either person would leave if given the chance. The subsequent feeling of love - of us, and the sharing of one another.
Pairing — Heeseung x gn!reader
Genre — smut, fluff
CW — protected sex, love making, mutual pining, this is very soft i’m in my feels ok, oral (m. receiving).
Word count — 2,493
Part of the 12 days of xxxmas series (this one is v timid)
a/n: dear god, when is it my turn?
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Come over.
There’s something so insanely promiscuous about those two words when they flash up on a phone screen. The implications - what’s the meaning?
You discard your phone lazily on the pillows of your bed, heart racing as you await a reply. It’s not that rejection is likely, more so that regardless of how eager both of you may be - it’s a possibility still.
Inviting Lee Heeseung to your house, when he’s never been before, never even seen past the colour of your front door or much of your room beyond the headboard when you facetime on late evenings, is nothing short of nerve wracking.
And as the simple response of, “Give me 15 and I’ll be there,” illuminates your phone screen, the panic doesn’t subside.
In fact, it only worsens as he stares at you with that same soft glint in his eyes, waiting to be invited in as he stands on the door mat.
How does one go about it in this way? Do you still need formalities? A cup of tea and biscuits maybe? Sit on the couch for a little while and discuss things like middle aged people meeting after a long time apart?
You settle against those options, and for good reason.
“Come in,” you smile, distracting yourself from the barrage of thoughts that certainty would fuck this up if the man before you could hear them, “It’s the room on the right, all the way down the corridor. You need a drink or anything?,”
God, cut the formalities. You know this guy, very well acquainted what with your wonderful rendezvous and evenings in the local cafe, and don’t forget the dressed up dates you’d had, the exchanging of gifts together and the apparent fondness you both harbour for one another but are too scared to share.
“No, I’ll be fine,” Heeseung just smiles at you as he leaves his shoes by the front door, and saunters off to the bedroom.
Too abrupt? No time to think about that now.
To be honest, you’d wanted to hold out for as long as possible, wanted to see how long you could take staring into those big, brown eyes of his before the string of tension snapped. And to be honest, you’d been doing pretty well with it.
But the eagerness to know him more than through words - with physical touch too, was basically killing you.
And finding Heeseung already searching through the endless shithole of programmes on Netflix whilst lying comfortably on your bed as you entered your bedroom was somewhat endearing.
“Comfortable already, I see,” you quip.
“You’d think I’m weird if I wasn’t.”
True. All you think about is the further subsequent implications of Netflix being Heeseung’s choice of streaming service. You have plenty more available.
Why that one?
Nobody ever watches Netflix.
Nobody ever watc-
Shit.
You try to relax as you melt into Heeseung’s touch, his body warm even though there’s layers of clothing between his skin.
But it’s proving hard, literally and figuratively, because you can’t focus on the movie on your TV at all. Heeseung just looks too fucking good, and of course you asked him over here for good reason, but now you’re in a situation where you can change the mood, you’re sort of feeling a little lost.
It has you feeling like you’re new to this whole thing, even when you’re not.
But this is a first with Heeseung.
And you’re nervous with the anticipation of what he is like.
And no, not as a person. You know that much already. You mean in bed - naked, hot body on your own, lips dancing on your neck and fingers playing with your-
“You’re supposed to stare at the TV, not me,” Heeseung’s gaze melts into you, and you feel on the spot that you could curl up and die, quite simply.
“Heeseung,” you didn’t mean to whine, you swear, but either way you don’t regret it when Heeseung’s lips encase your own in a way that’s different to the many times you’ve done it before.
There’s a certain hunger, a certain need and desire that you’re more than happy in this moment to indulge in.
You never want your lips to part as he pulls the duvet to allow you both under it. You don’t want to lose the momentum of the situation, and so you grip at the plain white shirt he chose to wear today.
Perhaps it be the whirlpool of emotions or just that Lee Heeseung is that attractive - that even a plain garment can look expensive on him, but you feel like you’re only just realising how good looking he is.
You wet your lips as you hungrily stare at Heeseung’s bare torso once his shirt is removed and discarded wherever the fuck your throw managed to land it, and you bask even more so in the way his breathing is ragged already, eyes never once leaving your lips.
Heeseung feels at ease seeing you like this, because unbeknownst to you, the pounding in his heart isn’t from arousal alone.
He’s in conflict - wanting to be slow and sensual with your body because this is the first time you’re seeing one another like this, but also wanting to devour you, ravish you and leave you both fulfilled and yet gasping for more.
He decides not to make his mind up yet.
Instead, he stares at how you chose to wear nothing under your hoodie. He can’t believe you look this good in such simple clothes.
“You’re amazing,” he breathes against your sternum as you move to now straddle his hips.
The light praise rolls off his tongue so easily, it reminds you of the caramel sauce he always makes sure there’s an abundance of when you order an iced coffee - sweet and moreish.
You want to hear more, feel more, be more in the moment than you already are.
Grinding on Heeseung’s erection through his trousers, your abdomen fills with excitement at the thought of what hopefully, moments later, will be filling you.
“You feel really big,” you admit, and you feel shy, so you’re glad that Heeseung also avoids eye contact and instead works at your nipples.
His lips are soft, timid, and you love it. There’s a fondness that floats around the situation and you both think it’s one sided, so you don’t speak on it.
Pulling his lips away from your chest, you face him closer now. He already looks dishevelled and heated; it fills you with excitement, and an essence of proudness because you’re the reason Heeseung looks like this right now.
And with delivering a quick peck to his lips, you dive down under the covers to meet your face with his crotch, pulling down his trousers and boxers in as natural as a motion as you can - which ultimately fails, and results in Heeseung shuffling his hips to help you.
Taking his cock into your hands finally, you’re trying to make a mental note of how big he is whilst simultaneously beginning to press your lips to the tip.
The taste of precum hits your tongue almost instantly, and with the way Heeseung hisses, you continue to deliver attention to the head - soft kissing and licks that send him into overdrive instantly. His hands rest atop your head, no intention of ever trying to take the control from you, but they’re there more as a symbol of support, in some way.
Licking up his shaft before you fully take Heeseung into your mouth, you feel the breeze of the duvet being lifted so that he can finally see you. In another circumstance, you’d feel shy, but hearing the way his breath labours and he moans softly, you know that you’re doing enough.
When accompanying the ministrations of your mouth with a lazy up and down, twist of your wrist makes Heeseung hiss between his teeth, you know to keep doing that. When working with a new partner, spending the time to find the simple things that make their body tense is most important.
And so when Heeseung tells you that, “It’s so sexy when you do it like that,” with your mouth sloppily lapping at him and your throat humming against him, you might just die.
The eye contact is intense as you see the way he earnestly watches you, bottom lip caught between his teeth to avoid releasing any expletives.
And as much as you’d like to stay here like this, and pleasure Heeseung like this to fulfilment, you know that there’s more on both of your minds.
For you, though, your mind simply enters a haze as the man kisses you without a regard for the fact your lips have been wrapped around his crotch only moments ago. It sets alight a fire in you that before had never been lit before.
“Hee,” you whisper against his lips.
“Condom?,” he asks, knowing what you want.
“Top drawer.”
And he rummages and quickly finds one, opening the packet and sliding the latex over himself as you busy yourself with the removal of your bottoms.
You expect to ride him, and so hover over him until he flips you over, back resting softly in the abundance of pillows by your headrest. What a peculiar feeling arising in Heeseung’s stomach as he takes in the view which he’s only seen through the screen of his phone.
And the feeling doesn’t cease as he eases himself slowly into you, slight stretch on your part due to the lack of preparation, but there’s a sense of desperation in the air, even if it’s not spoken.
“So tight,” Heeseung muses into the skin of your neck, “My God, y/n, you’re so tight,”
You’d respond if you could, but instead you drink in the feeling of slowly being impaled, and it’s blissful. The slow drive of Heeseung’s hips in and out of you, shallow and shy until he feels the way you relax around him and your grip on his biceps loosens.
Only then does he build up a rhythm. One that has you wrapping your legs around him, hands clutching either side of his face as you engage in sloppy kisses, lips sometimes gliding completely past one another.
“Do you feel good?,” Heeseung manages to ask as he hits a spot deeper inside you. There’s a neediness in his voice that indicates he’s eager to please.
“So good, Hee,” you press your foreheads together, “You feel so good inside me,”
It’s really taking everything for Heeseung to last, even with the condom around him there’s a closeness he can’t quite place, an intimacy that feels further than two bodies fuelled by arousal. He’s scared to confess in this moment how he really feels, just on the off chance that you think his words lack sincerity.
So he doesn’t say anything.
But later, he swears that he will.
And you throw your head back into the pillow with glee, neck on full display as Heeseung attaches his lips delicately. You wish that you could tell him more than that it feels good, that you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing.
You wish that you could find words that would hold more substance, but you’re not really sure that he would believe you when you’re clouded by the feeling building in your stomach.
Still, you clutch onto one another as Heeseung switches the position, this time with your legs over his shoulders, and your heart melts at the way he kisses at the skin of your ankles, grip so light it’s like his touch isn’t even there.
He would turn you around, but he doesn’t want to miss the way your face contorts in that of pleasure when he reaches so impossibly deep inside you. And he doesn’t want you to miss the way his own brows furrow, the way his voice is rough with the way he snaps into you now.
The new angle has you crying out, so loud that the TV in the background doesn’t even suffice as a distraction anymore. The noises are no longer inhibited to these four walls.
“Shhh,” Heeseung slows his hips but never ceases his rhythm, “I don’t want anyone else to hear you, baby,”
Baby.
Baby.
Holy shit does that tighten the knot in your stomach.
“Heeseung!,” you cry out, arms trying to reach for him but failing. You’re trying to tell him that you’re close, and the man doesn’t help the situation as he leans forward, your own legs pressing against yourself in a way that allows Heeseung even deeper into you, so much so that he feels a part of you now.
Locking your fingers in his against the coolness of your pillow, you release breathy moans and cries of his name as you come undone. You try to keep the words back, but your mind is so foggy that you forget what you’re really saying.
“Oh my god, Heeseung, I love you!,”
His breath is rough in your ear as he moans out, cum filling the condom as he confesses back the same words to you.
“I love you, wow-, I love you,” his body is warm against yours, and as you come down you can finally feel the cramping of your legs.
Sitting back on his knees, Heeseung slows his breathing as he removes the condom. Watching the way he moves the hair from his eyes makes you swoon.
God, are you fond of this Lee Heeseung.
But isn’t he so fond of you?
You sit up to encase your arms around his figure, and fall back into the sheets. It’s hot and humid and there’s the smell of sex that’s dancing around the room, but you don’t mind. You feel a closeness now that you’ve longed for for a long time.
You’re glad that it’s Heeseung with you now, in this moment as you feel as though every memory with him so far is passing you by, clear pictures in your mind.
It’s a funny thing, how our firsts with everyone are so treasured. Sure, it’s not your first time having sex, neither is it his, but it’s your first with one another. It’s calming, and reassuring, in a way, that the feelings you have aren’t one sided.
But how could they have been?
“Shall we take a shower?,” you mumble the question against the sheen of sweat on Heeseung’s shoulder.
He hums over the question for a little while, before he grins, “Can’t we just stay like this for now? Just a little bit longer, please,”
And he clutches you tighter, as though you would get up and leave - but you never would.
Instead, you stay there as requested, a content feeling rising through every beat of your heart.
And with every further consequential strum, you feel your eyes close, falling into a slumber in the warmth of your lover.
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