#ft. shameless needy vampire bf heeseung mmmmmmmmmm

[hannie-dul-set]

Embarrassing Heeseung x embarrassed reader or someone other than Hee whtv you want... I only think of him for this tropeedkmf...

[sweet venom]. there’s nothing in the world more potent than desire. it overwhelms, senses taken by the singularity of want— the want for something, anything— everything, gnawing at the veins that pulsate under thin flesh. everything is blurry save for the very object of that desire, a vivid clarity amidst countless gray abstractions.

“i’m hungry.”

and when that desire is combined with your shameless boyfriend’s bloodthirsty appetite—

“can i bite you?”

—things are bound to get a little bit dangerous.

heeseung must have forgotten that you’re in the middle of a party right now (and in the middle of a conversation with jay about extraterrestrial life). or maybe he simply doesn’t care, because jay’s face of absolute judgemental disgust across the kitchen counter doesn’t seem to affect him at all, either. “get a room, you freaks,” your friend says before evacuating the area with a can of OB, and he takes that as a green light to go all up in your space.

your own can feels cold to the touch in your palm. jay might have evacuated, but there’s still jake and jungwon in the kitchen entryway. sunoo just walked in too, to snag a bag of chips from the counter— who, in fact, just became an unwilling witness to lee heeseung getting elbowed in the rib after trying to nibble on your neck.

“oh my god.”

literally trying to nibble on your neck, because you just felt his fangs graze your skin a little just before you managed to push him off. “heeseung,” you hiss, scolding him. it’s a good thing most people’s thoughts usually lean towards usual hormonal behavior instead of vampirism when witnessing a scene such as this.

still. it doesn’t redact from sunoo’s sense of violation at the sight. “seriously? right in front of my chips?” you turn to sunoo, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. which is bad, because heeseung twitches from behind you and suddenly tugs you closer and wraps his arms around your waist. you feel his uncaring breath in the space between your neck and shoulders, sending shivers down your spine, but more than that— you feel embarrassed as fuck right now.

someone ought to put this bloodsucker on a freaking leash.

“haha, sorry about that.” you elbow him again. again. and again, because the fucker just won’t budge. a mindless groan drawls out from his throat like he’s drunk on something, and you flinch. shit. good thing it was low enough for only you to hear. not good thing is how you can feel two significant sharp points of pain pressing into your skin. “heeseung, get a fucking grip.”

he interprets that as tightening his grip around your waist. god damn it. you mutter a few silent prayers to mother mary up above.

“i’ll pretend i didn’t see anything.”

“thank you, i appreciate that.”

your face still burns, but when sunoo turns around and turns a blind eye to heeseung’s shameless display of indecency, you immediately latch onto one of his arms and pry him off you, dragging him out the back door before he makes a mess out of you in sunghoon’s kitchen (not the hot kind. the bloody kind).

surprisingly, he doesn’t protest as you manhandling him out the door with a grunt, locking it shut before you submerge him and you in between the bushes and night and the outside panels of the house. does he want everyone to find out that he’s a life-sized mosquito? you wonder, but with that hazy look in his eyes, you doubt he’s thinking of anything besides wanting to leave a pretty mark on your neck— maybe a few if you’re feeling generous.

but you’re not, because you’re pretty sure they’re gossiping about you inside the house right now. “heeseung,” you sternly start. heeseung is batting his eyes at you expectantly. you want to punch him in the face. “we’re in public. what the fuck?”

he says nothing for a moment. silent, before he makes a very astute observation.

“not anymore.”

you blink at him.

well.

he’s…he’s right about that one, isn’t he?

“heeseung— ah—!”

desire is a dangerous thing. it makes people believe you ditched the party to mess around with your boyfriend, when in reality his feeding time is just overdue. but really—

“more,” heeseung grunts, a sharp taste of breathless iron on your tongue as he trails up from your neck to your mouth. “need more.”

—there’s not much difference when desire muddles the line in between.