#honey 🍯 (honey honey lit the fire)

[symp-honey]

hentai or die

[shoutout to this tweet for pointing out what jeno’s hoodie says]

content warnings: nsfw (minors dni), masturbation, watching hentai, mentions of a sex slave/service top, mentions of impregnation, creampies, praises (all aforementioned themes are pretty tame tbh, this is just a drabble)

imagine jeno in his room, comfortable in a pair of boxers and a hoodie. it’s not too late at night, so he has some time to himself just to wind down. he crawls into bed and searches for the perfect video to watch. one thumbnail catches his attention, a hentai video of three girls and one guy; it’s drawn in that popular 90s animation style too, which is definitely jeno’s favorite kind, with subtitles to boot (a bonus considering jeno’s not in the mood to leave his bed to find headphones). he mutes the volume, presses play, and gets drawn into the fantasy.

apparently, the guy in the story is some kind of slave to these women, meant to be their plaything to do with as they see fit. the thought has jeno’s dick throbbing. he pushes the waistband of his boxers down past his balls and grabs at his cock. the girls in the video tease their toy to start out, saying how he’s only good for fucking them and giving them his sperm, how they’ll keep fucking him over and over until he impregnates each and every one of them. the boy can only blush in response. jeno feels that deeply.

he lubes himself up so he can match the pace the first girl sets as she fucks herself on the hard cock in front of her. it’s not a quick pace considering they’re standing up and she has to bend at her hips just to find any leverage. but things progress and soon the boy is stuttering out that he’s cumming, which pans the angle to the girl smirking before flashing back to where they’re joined. jeno watches as they press together, dribbles of white leaking out of the girl’s pussy. he squeezes at the head of his own dick at the sight, needing to stave off his orgasm if he wants to see this boy service the other two girls.

the next girl is enthusiastic in wanting sperm too. she pulls the guy down onto a bed and straddles him quickly. his dick never flags once, even when jeno gets a great shot of it messy with his own cum before being sheathed by pussy. jeno imagines he’s moaning as she rides him with gusto. jeno has to bite down on his knuckles just to muffle his tiny grunts, hand picking back up where he left off. it’s hard to match the girl’s pace this time around since he’s so close to cumming. the slower strokes still feel delicious, though, especially as he reads the words this girl is using to praise her cock toy.

jeno has to stop touching himself altogether when the boy cums again, more ropes of white painting the scene before him. it’s worth it when he notices the last girl begging to be fucked. she’s desperate for the boy to fill her up too, almost looking crazed with how badly she needs it. he complies, stamina as good as ever as he pushes his cock inside.

when the boy closes his eyes and thrusts, jeno shivers imagining how it must feel. it’s not long before this last part of the hentai draws to its conclusion, however. jeno anticipates its arrival and brings his hand back to his cock. as the guy on screen pulses out his release, jeno whimpers. the girl looks in bliss feeling all that cum spill inside of her, quickly following with her own climax that she announces as it happens.

it’s enough push jeno over the edge of his own orgasm, eyes half-lidded as the squelch of his cum between his fingers makes itself known. he keeps stroking as he blearily reads the girl thanking her toy for giving her exactly what she needed. the words give jeno’s libido one last chance as his dick twitches in his lax hold.

sometimes staring at a black end screen leaves jeno feeling unsatisfied, but he’s still a little tingly as he lounges there. he knows these slave fantasies aren’t always the best to get off to, but that doesn’t stop him from bookmarking the video for whenever he’s horny for these grayer subject matters.

[symp-honey]

legs a mile long

[written in part due to this tweet popping up on my tl months ago and haunting me ever since]

content warnings: nsfw (minors dni), lots of teasing, mentions of a blowjob

Donghyuck is kind enough to give you a warning, but if you give it further thought, you’d probably realize it’s a provocation. There’s a picture in your chat, and a tease to pair with it, neither of which found you sanity. It’s why you sit in anticipation now, counting down every second until you hear the slick of the front door breaking its seal.

When it finally comes, you jump up and march your way over to the entryway. “Boots stay on.” You don’t dare acknowledge the rasp you hear straining your words.

“Not even going to say hi first?” Donghyuck asks with a pout because of course he does. You know him well enough to see the smirk valiantly fighting to make face.

You’re determined to remain steadfast as you lean against a jamb, arms crossed, refusing to rise to the bait. “Boots stay on.” You pride yourself on sounding a bit more steady this second time around.

“Ah,” Donghyuck deepens his pout as he grabs onto his own shoulders, elbows crossed and out, upper body swaying in an attempt to weaponize his cuteness. “But how will I enter the apartment then?”

This is the problem with your relationship with Donghyuck: you cave too easily. You’d never admit it out loud; hell you don’t even think it too often just in case Donghyuck is so amazing as to be able to read your mind (you wouldn’t put it past him). But the reality is that you do- cave, that is- and Donghyuck knows as well as you do that which you refuse to name.

Instead, you give in with all the pretense that you’re the one willing Donghyuck to comply. Like now, as you turn around, crouch down low, and “command” that Donghyuck, “Hop on.” If you were to look over your shoulder and glimpse his giddiness, the illusion of your control would surely shatter. So you don’t.

Instead, you wait with a patience you have to muster from every fiber of your being for him to climb onto your back. When he whispers, “I know I’m hot but geez,” reading you for filth, you pinch at his thigh before hauling him up, because dignifying him with anything more would be too close to the giving in you do all the time anyway.

You count it an additional win that you can excuse the flush crawling across your face as exertion from carrying Donghyuck to the bedroom, even if it’s a lie.

And maybe you steal small moments of your own retribution too, just because it’s infuriating that Donghyuck’s always on top. Tonight’s comes when you make it to the bedroom, when you reach the foot of the bed and bend over at a deep enough angle so that Donghyuck tumbles right over your head.

He squawks some silly noise and you savor being able to giggle at your boyfriend’s misfortune.

“That’s not how you treat royalty.” The pout is back in full force, and this time it’s 100% genuine, no smugness lying in wait.

Greediness licks away at your insides, begging you to gain the lead, if only for just this moment. You cave to this too. “Oh, but I think it is.”

You pull at Donghyuck’s legs, rearranging him how you like. He’s left laying on his back, heels hanging off the edge of the mattress and bomber vest askew, once you’re done with him. He already looks debauched, long legs your personal runway to his crotch. The friction of your palms smoothing up the length of them sends a shiver down Donghyuck’s spine that has you grinning once you’re above him.

“Hm, right where I want you,” Donghyuck teases. There’s no hiding your blush behind flimsy excuses this time.

All you can do is bite back. “Shut up,” you growl before capturing his lips in a rough kiss. You nip and suck in an attempt to assert your dominance, but Donghyuck just mewls under you like he wants to be ruined.

Before long, he’s back to baiting you, taking the seconds between two kisses to do what he does best. “That all you got for me?”

Without thinking, you answer with your own question. “What were you expecting?”

Donghyuck looks sinister smiling up at you like he’s finished orchestrating your every move up until now. “Oh, I don’t know. Figured you’d be obsessed with my legs and how long they look in these pants.” He uses them then to squeeze around your waist and pull you down on top of him.

You bury your face in his neck and start sucking at the skin you find there. Unfortunately, your hands also make their way to luscious thighs that can’t possibly escape your notice now that Donghyuck has pointed a big flashing neon arrow right at them. It makes him squirm and you even hornier.

Oh, what you want those legs to do to you.

Lucky for you, it doesn’t take much effort to enact at least one of those fantasies. You don’t even have to remove Donghyuck’s jeans as you shimmy your way down his body and release the line of his dick from beneath a pesky zipper and some shirttails. It’s simple pulling his cock out from his briefs and salivating over legs that naturally straddle your head.

Maybe Donghyuck tricked you into giving him head with this outfit, but it’s not like you don’t want to. Not when suffocating on cock and being caged in by thighs feels this good. Especially not when Donghyuck’s musk invades all your senses at such close proximity, when you like getting high on his scent.

And if you have to enjoy this as much as Donghyuck does so that he can’t claim victory yet again, then that’s exactly what you have to do.

[symp-honey]

ravaged

▷ relationship: kun x gn!reader

▷ words: 2958

▷ content warnings: nsfw (minors dni), oral, begging, hunting metaphors in relation to sex

▷ summary: there's not much you can do when kun gets like this: hot, bothered, and most importantly, determined to wreck you.

Kun gets into these moods. You’ve never asked him about their roots, but you have some guesses now that you’ve experienced them a few times. Here’s your hypothesis:

Something positive happens in Kun’s life, most likely in relation to his job, which he holds in high regard. Said accomplishment boosts Kun’s confidence. It’s not like he suffers from a lot of self-doubt or anything, but his confidence is something that lies dormant more often than not. Having it come to the forefront lights him up from the inside, hence these moods.

Kun becomes somewhat unpredictable when he’s like this, probably because he seems to act more impulsively. Whatever catches his fancy, weaves itself together through a spontaneous series of thoughts, is what he’s going to act on. It’s especially exhilarating when that involves you.

You find yourself caught in the hairs of his crossfire now, over dinner of all things, food he made specifically for you. If you had to guess what was happening just a few minutes ago, you’d say he was trying to wine and dine you.

Now it’s obvious this is something more.

Kun’s sipping on a white wine that he swore paired perfectly with his fish dish when he pauses long enough to take you in opposite of him.

“I bought chocolate cake too, but I don’t think I want it anymore.” He leers, and you do your best not to flush.

“Why not? You don’t have a sweet tooth anymore? That’s hard to believe.” If you squirm a little in your seat, no one else has to know.

Unfortunately, Kun is too perceptive to let it slip past him without remark. You should’ve known better than to leave him such an obvious opening. “Hm, I think I’m just in the mood for something sweeter.” The smirk that accompanies those words bulldozes you with how it accentuates his features, eyes half-lidded and gleaming teeth on display. Of course you’re helpless to the flush that finally breaks shore across the planes of your face.

Without ever putting down the wine glass balanced on the tips of his fingers, he leans over the spread of food and lavishes you with a kiss that makes the ends of your hairs tingle. The fact that he’s still so controlled as he licks his way inside your mouth is too much to handle.

Your only reprieve comes when he pulls back far enough to whisper against your lips, “Wait for me in bed, love.” It’s not a very good reprieve if you’re honest.

You stand on legs that are much more unsteady than you expected them to be. You’d be embarrassed of your small stumble in any other circumstance, but Kun is still piercing you with his intense gaze as you exit the kitchen. If you had to bet, you’d make good money on Kun drinking in your every reaction tonight with thirst rather than humor.

You have to inhale a deep breath just to ensure that the intensity of that realization doesn’t bowl you over.

As you make it to the bed, you quickly decide that you can’t handle whatever look Kun would deign you if you strip without him. It’s bad enough laying down and reigning in your imagination from all the possibilities of what Kun’s planning.

Whatever it is, it’s best to just go along with his whims anyway, no use in trying to guess what’s to come. You’re not very good at it when he’s like this anyway.

The heaviness of this situation makes the minutes drag their feet. By the time Kun reaches the threshold of the room, you’re antsy with the anticipation that time has generously afforded you. Saliva pools in your mouth, and you swallow it away with trepidation.

The longer Kun stares at you from his perch, the more you feel like his prey.

“Kun, kiss me,” you say breathily. You can’t even be sure your words reach him with how quiet they sound, but he reacts enough to know that they did.

He stalks closer, tips of his fingers trailing over surfaces as he nears, starting from the doorframe and ending at the throw laid over the foot of the bed.

He pauses again, staring at you, drinking in your countenance, which at this point can’t be anything less than flushed and overwhelmed. Your heart rate ticks a few beats higher too, and you fail at holding back the softest of whimpers.

“Please.” You have no idea if Kun can be pled with tonight, not when he’s completely shuttered himself off from you. Beyond hunger, his gaze tells you nothing.

Goosebumps erupt everywhere, overtaking you so suddenly that a shiver follows in their wake. It’s impossible to hold eye contact any longer after appearing so weak. Kun hasn’t even touched you yet, for crying out loud.

You have a very abrupt realization that exposing your throat to a predator is as good as submitting when Kun starts crawling his way up the bed. Catching his eye again does nothing to stop his slow ascent up your body. It really looks like he’s stalking you except for the fact that you’re completely aware of it happening.

“Kun.” His name leaves your lips on a breath, and you don’t even know why you’re bothering.

He pauses again, infuriatingly, once he’s fully hovering over you. There’s still not a single inch of contact between you.

He tilts his head and pierces you with that same stare. Unfortunately, it’s only worse up close. It feels like he’s trying to flay you open without a single touch, exposing all your vulnerabilities; you’re shocked by how well it’s working.

Something about this position gives you the innate knowledge to not speak again. It would be foolish to do so.

Instead, you lay bone still. The only movement comes from your lungs, stuttered breathing expanding and contracting your chest in uneven patterns. This waiting game doesn’t make it any steadier.

After what feels like ages, Kun seems to find what he’s been hunting for, burrowed deep in your soul. You know you’ve been exposed when he smirks that smirk of his that overtakes his whole face.

“Hands up by your head,” he demands of you, voice hitting gravel after so long of it hiding in wait. You dare not hesitate as you comply, shivering even more when you feel the cool cotton caress the backs of your arms.

As soon as you’re right where Kun wants you, he moves sharp and quick. Hands clasp with yours, knees pull inward to entrap you, and upper body velcros itself to every inch of yours like Kun can’t stand not touching for another second. Your arousal spikes in tandem with the loud gasp wrenched from you at the complete 180.

His ferocity then gets channeled into making out with you. Usually, you’d define Kun’s kisses as thorough, but you might have to rethink that here. This is a thorough kiss. He’s not just licking into the seam of your mouth but licking across the entire length of it, starting from one corner of your mouth to the next. As soon as he’s in, he retracts his tongue and starts nibbling across the breadth of your bottom lip first and then your top. He follows with more tongue, now inside and behind your teeth where it maps out your whole mouth with small swipes, saving your soft palate for last so he can savor you shuddering below him.

He spends most of his time there. You can feel him cycle through different patterns with his tongue - flicks versus rubs versus taps - until he finds what makes you mewl nonstop and haves at it.

It’s absolutely maddening. Kun is too much to handle.

That’s doubly true when he finally extracts himself from your mouth to say, “I’m gonna eat you out now.”

Your next inhale catches in your throat, and you have to clutch at Kun’s hold just so your fingers stop shaking. It’s not like Kun asked you a question in need of an answer, so you’re not really sure what he’s expecting from you as he stares you down once more.

The pause does give you enough space for your thoughts to wander some, though, and surprise surprise, you can’t help that your imagination is wholly fixated on Kun’s tongue at your taint now that he’s dangled that bait in front of you. You fully blame Kun for the pathetic whimper that escapes you.

With a satisfied smile gracing his features, Kun leaves a surprisingly chaste kiss on your chin before pushing himself up and off. The cool air that takes his place along the front of your body brings its own rush, which makes the shakes extend outwards from your fingers and down your arms.

You don’t even register how Kun made it to his newest perch between your legs, but he’s there now, fingers gliding along the waistband of your shorts.

He’s methodical as he shimmies your bottoms down the length of each leg, cataloging every inch of skin as it’s revealed to him, blunt nails catching themselves in different patches of fuzzy hair.

It ramps up the tension even more somehow, Kun being so driven in his pursuit to relish your every flavor. Adrenaline is born from his purposefulness, makes you pant out shallow breaths and feel lightheaded from the shroud of arousal encasing you.

His intensity might just kill you if he doesn’t hurry.

Luckily, Kun calculates that his moment to pounce is as soon as your shorts hit the floor.

He shoulders his way close to your crotch, hooks your legs around his shoulders, and encourages you to cross your ankles atop his back. It allows him the position to circle his arms around your hips and the leverage to lift your lower back slightly off the mattress.

You moan as soon as his mouth attaches to your hole and sucks, nose pressing in where it gets in the way.

Seconds in and you’re grossly aware of how long you’re going to last - not very long at all.

For the benefit of your sanity, Kun doesn’t keep that up for very long. He uses the flat of his tongue to start pushing at your opening instead, testing the pressure needed to continue playing there without fully breaching. It creates an odd almost suction around the valley of his tongue that pulses threads of arousal outward from that point of contact.

You’ve never felt an orgasm build quite like this before, and you’re almost glad because it’s bordering on being too intense. The worst part is clenching around nothing, emptiness pooling as steadily as the lava in your veins, tempting your own hunger to rear its head in retaliation.

Thinking anything through after that becomes impossible. Instinct sees you subtly grind against Kun’s face, clamoring for more. The fact that Kun isn’t matching your level of insatiableness right now has you gasping and crying out.

“F-fuck. Kun,” you groan. A particularly rough thrust gets just the tip of his tongue inside you, but he’s quick to pull it back, leaving one long sweep across your entrance before retreating completely.

You bite back a sob at the loss and are immediately rewarded for it. Kun’s mouth latches to your opening again and starts sucking like he’s trying to mark a hickey onto your most intimate part. On the rare occasion that he pushes forward far enough, you can even feel the front of his teeth butt up against you.

Your abs tense and your arms push down where they support you against ruffled sheets. It’s just too overwhelming not to; those threads of arousal keep snaking towards the outer reaches of your body without ever pulling taut and snapping.

Somehow, through the ringing in your ears, you also hear loud slurps whenever Kun’s lips accidentally break their suction.

You think you spit out a pathetic, “Please,” in all the mess, but it’s hard to tell when you’re so honed in on Kun and everything he’s doing to you.

Either way, Kun takes mercy and adds the pointed tip of his tongue to the carnage, prodding at your opening. Slipping it inside has a wave of relief wash over your frays. That only makes the noises worse though, his saliva coating your entrance where it can now spill from his mouth.

You shudder, your own moans even more unabashed now that the empty feeling is leaking out of your ears.

“Yesss,” you hiss on an especially forced breath.

If you strain, you think you can hear Kun too. He’s muttering these soft little grunts with the back of his throat that underlie the louder swishes and slurps of his tongue. It’s stupidly hot.

What’s even hotter is the attentive brushes Kun laves against the very edge of that spot deep inside you. Now that his tongue is where you want it to be, he has so many more moves at his disposal that he puts to use: there’s little prods at the walls just past your entrance, rubs whenever he has the full length of his tongue encased in you, minute thrusts that keep you open to whatever he chooses to do next.

It doesn’t take long for you to start panting at the exertion, sweat beading at your hairline, and you’re not even the one doing anything.

Kun is good at keeping you at the forefront of your orgasm too. He never lets up, switching his speed and technique often enough to always keep you guessing.

Being suspended in that moment where you can’t quite claw your way to release starts taking its toll. Your eyesight is bleary with unshed tears. You get so caught up in releasing quiet sobs that you forget to breath, having to gulp lungfuls of air to compensate. Your hips won’t stay still where they press into Kun’s face, and it’s possible you feel stubble adding to the multitude of sensations attacking you on all fronts.

Who knew being someone’s prey could be this rewarding?

When time is at its fuzziest, Kun makes his most coordinated attack yet. He pries your fingers away from the sheets and brings your hand to his hair. The second you find your grip, he’s moaning deeply and pushing his tongue incessantly into the one spot that can unravel you. It’s enough.

You’re cumming suddenly, shaking apart violently as Kun holds you steady in his arms. You can’t help that your heels are digging into muscle or that your hand is holding onto hair for dear life, and you don’t even have half a mind to remember to worry after Kun about these things.

All you’re concerned about is the wash of ecstasy you feel at being eaten alive by the man of your dreams.

As the white behind your eyes fades into the colors of Kun’s room, awareness of your body returns to you. It seems as though Kun unwrapped your legs from around his shoulders and is above you again, kissing his way up your neck. Once he’s level with you, he offers a patient smile while brushing your hair off your forehead with the edge of his thumb.

“You’re amazing.” His voice has so much rasp behind it and his eyes so much passion that you can’t possibly explain where it’s all coming from. You’d grow aroused again if you could.

But honestly, how is Kun the one giving out praises right now? “Look who’s talking. You ate me out like you were starved,” you say with as much conviction as your exhaustion allows you. Wonderfully, the tiredness is tinged with tingles that run down your legs. You really hope that Kun is up for snuggles.

Kun makes a graceful fall over one side of you, hips catching with yours so that he’s halfway on top of you once prone. He nuzzles into your neck, nose pressing at the skin underneath your ear when he replies, “Maybe we’re both right, and we’re both amazing.” You notice how a patch of dampness gets smudged right where his plush lips touch you, and it’s impossible not to reel at the implication that he’s smearing his mess there.

That does the trick of sending a faint ping of horniness straight into your spine.

Kun smiles after feeling the shiver wracking through you. You press your face into his hair and suggestively whisper, “Need any help?”.

He hums a negative and pushes his crotch against your hip. It’s an open invitation to feel how something wet bleeds into the fabric of his sweatpants, even more dampness being pressed against you. He must’ve cum sometime after you. “I told you, you’re amazing. Got me there with just your voice.”

You sigh and let your imagination fill in the gaps of what his face probably looked like with his tongue inside you as he came all over himself. You’re sad you missed it.

“We’ll have to get cleaned up then. Can’t have us both like this.”

Kun sighs too, but this one is more put upon, Kun evidently not very pleased with the reminder. “I know… Let’s just cuddle for 10 minutes first.”

It’s not like it’s hard giving into his request. Curling your opposite arm around Kun and pulling him closer is more effort than you expect, but it’s worth it for even more contact together. You also love getting intimate with the fluffiness of his hair, even as it tickles the skin under your eye. All that does is amplify the tingles that still occasionally catch you off guard in your post-orgasmic laze. It’s pretty great. Kudos to Kun for insisting on cuddles.

Turns out your boyfriend is chalk full of good ideas tonight. You’re more than content.

[symp-honey]

black dress

▷ relationship: dejun x gn!reader

▷ words: 4034

▷ content warnings: nsfw (minors dni), lingerie, oral, cockwarming (briefly), crying (briefly), religious metaphors in relation to sex

▷ summary: after a crappy week, your boyfriend treats you to a gift of lingerie that may just be the salvation you need.

It’s been one of those weeks. The world seems out to get you, and it’s starting to wear you down. You manage to catch food poisoning that tornadoes its way through you for 34 hours straight. Then there’s the missed bus and the irate peers who are getting antsy about your less-than-stellar week. You can’t blame them though, not when the deadline for this big project circles this upcoming Friday in bright red marker on your calendar.

By Wednesday, you cave and send an S.O.S. to your boyfriend, Dejun.

Miraculously, you’ve caught him at a good time. He sends a selfie that borders on being too lewd for what the situation calls for. His tongue is nestled against his bottom lip and his eyes are at half-mast, tank top exposing more skin than it covers as he flexes those coveted arm muscles of his.

Dejun reassures you that you can get through this temporary hiccup, that the end of the tunnel is in sight. He promises to see you Monday night too, which is the soonest he’s available, schedule permitting. He even sends a cute selfie this time around, baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, sweat matting down the hair in front of his ears, and wide grin making your breath catch. It takes you a moment to notice the mirrors and their reflections of a practice room past his beautiful face.

It’s a sentiment you already know you’re going to cling onto for the rest of this week. Any way you can eke out some self encouragement.

Spending an entire evening with Dejun is certainly a pleasing reward for what becomes a whirlwind of a week.

The next day, you crack down and put in extra hours to fill out the gaps in your project and polish the details to an acceptable sheen. Dejun sends you stickers intermittently, in between hair and makeup and prerecordings, and the fact that he keeps you top of mind despite his own busyness melts your heart.

The day after, you and your group do a quick runthrough before actually presenting. You hate how last minute it is, but time doesn’t afford you anything more. It could’ve gone better, but the sweet, “Good luck!~ 🥰,” message you come back to brightens your spirit some. You reply with a selfie of you being cheeky, tongue sticking out at Dejun. It clashes with your business casual wear.

Saturday and Sunday are a flurry in their own right. You pick up the parts of your life you put on pause while being sick and working. Groceries and cooking are a top priority, since you’ve grown tired of takeout from overabundance. You also clean and do laundry and manage to sleep some of your underlying exhaustion away. Dejun sends you even more selfies at random pockets of the day, those of him in wardrobe but before hair and makeup, which are usually your favorite kind. His eyes look tired but he comes alive in the sweet smiles and silly expressions he gives you. As a thank you, you send a round of coffees to his waiting room for him and his members and staff.

Even keeping as busy as you have been, Monday evening still can’t come soon enough.

Luckily, the day starts off normal once more. It’s easy to pick your old routine back up now that it’s not stretched thin with additional stress. The only obvious drawback is that there’s nothing to distract you from the wait for tonight, but you’ll gladly take this anticipation over a massive crunch. You’re not that impatient.

The light coming from your phone screen in your periphery catches your attention. There’s enough of a lull in your day to justify checking it. It’s Dejun. He’s apparently already let himself into your place and is waiting for you. You like the message before giving him an ETA. You don’t plan on staying a minute longer than necessary now that you have someone to go home to.

You’re glad that his message gives you just enough motivation to get back to the task at hand. You’re determined to make this last hour and change as painless as possible, and the only way to do so is to put your head down and get to work.

Walking into your apartment a little while later is like the breath of fresh air you’ve been waiting for. You feel truly blessed.

As you strip out of your outwear, you call out, “I’m home, Dejun.”

You get a responding, “In here,” which, oddly enough, sounds like it’s coming from your bedroom instead of your living room like you expected.

It’s a strange enough phenomenon that you hurry into your slippers and make your way over to the threshold of your room. The sight that greets you leaves you stunned.

There, laying demurely in the middle of your sheets, is Dejun in a lingerie dress.

You see mesh and lace and a bodice, and it’s a monumental challenge not to feel absolutely faint from it all.

“Surprised?” A smirk underlies that one word, and you honestly wonder if a person really can turn feral. Dejun might need to take you to a hospital just to be sure.

“Can I touch, my sweet boy?” It’s honestly your only concern at this point, because if you can’t get your hands on Dejun, you’ll most certainly wither away.

“Hm,” the sound is a whisper of husk riding a trill of beauty, and you’re overcome with the need for Dejun to answer faster. “Whatever you like. This is your gift.”

You don’t even process the few steps it takes you to get to the edge of your bed, because you’re too busy drinking in how every inch of Dejun’s outfit drapes his body. As you come closer, it’s easier to tell that the only lace present is in the fabric of his mini-length black boxers. The hemline fits snug around the meat of his thighs, and you can’t help but wonder if he purposefully bought a size too small.

As much as the lace attracts you, your attention is easily pulled to what is clearly the showstopper of this outfit. You’ve never seen a lingerie piece quite like it. There’s a bodice made of thin black straps that outlines his pecs and tits in the exact same way a bra would but with easy access to everything you crave to touch. The waistline is an additional strap that then makes way for a gorgeous, full-length mesh train, the sheerness gathering in pools where it lays against the sheets. Dejun has one hip cocked up just enough to highlight the leg slit that cuts open the skirt from bottom all the way up to a few inches shy of his waist. It’s the only reason why you noticed the boxers to begin with.

Right as you reach the end of your mattress, Dejun stops you with the point of his toes sliding along the hem of your pant leg. He looks up at you from underneath his long lashes and asks that you unbutton your shirt before ravaging him. It’s an easy enough request to do.

You praise the genius of your boyfriend as you crawl over his body and see the trails of your button down cage him in. It makes the initial kiss you press to his lips a little bit sloppy. In other circumstances, you might’ve even been embarrassed by how overrun your emotions are. But in this moment, you’re nothing more than your hunger.

Sealing your lips to Dejun’s does serve to siphon away some of the heat from your lungs, though, which makes it easier to control your nips and sucks. It doesn’t lessen that deeper simmer in you, however, but that’s not what you’re aiming for anyway. You intend to make good on Dejun’s gift tonight.

Time burns away its wick in the space where your lips meet. Everything becomes so simple this way.

The slide of skin is just basic friction, the nerves that tingle from it just neuroscience. Dejun opening his mouth to let you in is nothing beyond his wetness and warmth, the slick of his tongue against yours nothing more than taste and feeling. All the little gasps and mewls you coax out of him is music in its rawest form, not processed or layered, purely human in the emotions they convey. You try not to get lost in it.

Your hand does help to ground you a bit. The one holding you steady above Dejun is indisposed, but the other is free to flutter over whatever it can reach. It’s most curious about the bodice part of Dejun’s dress, fingering under what you now know are soft elastic straps. There’s something sensory about tracing along every edge you can find, the contrast of supple skin and taut fabric titillating. Every so often, you’ll accidentally catch the pad of a finger on the perk of Dejun’s nipple, and that always produces a fun sound for you to devour.

Eventually, your thoughts start spinning together that first image of Dejun you saw tonight. You become so fixated on how small his waist looked where mesh met strap that your hand maps the feel of it, sliding under the high-cut leg slit to cup at the slightness hidden underneath. A passing thought makes you wonder if you’re drooling even more at the feeling.

Once you’re riled up an appropriate amount, you decide what exactly it is you want to do with Dejun. You lower yourself down onto your forearm, giving that hand leeway to grip at the back of Dejun’s nape.

Something in that triggers Dejun to finally run his own fingers up from the band of your pants and across your exposed chest to the divots of your clavicles. You pull back to glean a proper look at your handiwork.

Dejun’s breathing is rhythmic and pronounced, his eyes partially lidded and glazed over. His mouth is what catches your sight the easiest, however, lips swollen in red. His teeth peek out from where his mouth remains ajar too, and they shimmer in the low light of your room.

You grab at the little hairs lining Dejun’s nape and whisper, “I think you deserve a reward for my gift, hm?”

The nod he gives in reply is minimal, daze too heavy behind his eyes for him to truly be receptive to what you’re saying. You'll have to take the helm tonight.

You shimmy yourself a little further down his body and drink in the sight before you once again. It’s only right you worship what’s in front of you, so you get to work on leaving kisses at the altar.

You start at his chest, playful with the patches of skin you have access to. It’s here where you leave mostly licks, loving how your saliva catches the light. His nipples are another shrine for your lips to focus on, mouthing and teething in equal measure. He seems to like that as he helplessly grasps at the hair on the crown of your head and moans low.

Next comes the skirt of his dress, and what better prayer is there than to press kisses through the mesh? You figure out quickly that the weave is open enough to justify wetter kisses, his skin pebbling wherever the fabric darkens most. You make sure to spend extra time around his navel if only to see him start to squirm.

The waistband of his shorts tease you soon enough, though, and you thank heaven for leg slits. You’re methodical in how you leave a string of hickeys along the top hem, always starting with tongue first in order to lave the area clean. It’s followed by quick nips that smarten the nerves for what’s to come. Sucking bruises is arguably the best part, in your humble opinion, solely because of the sounds they pluck from between Dejun’s lips.

In no time at all, Dejun is fully panting in desperation, and it’s your queue to move onward lest he falls too deep too fast.

You don’t stop marking hickeys into his skin, though, trailing them down his thigh and away from his crotch. His leg leans into the opening the dress slit leaves for it, exposing more ground for you to cover. It’s slow going that way, but you remain disciplined in your path downward. The hickeys stop blooming mid-thigh, but they’re replaced with reverent kisses that tickle at the hairs homed there. The knobs of his knee and ankle make good pedestals for the sweetest of kisses you can manage.

After you deem Dejun sufficiently kissed, you finally pull away enough to look back up at him. Tears dot his lash line, threatening to fall along with your sanity. It’s like a spark finds what has become a simmer inside of you and lights it anew, pushing you to take a step closer to your pardoning.

You lift the skirt of Dejun’s dress like a veil and climb underneath, the sheerness doing nothing to hide you away. Using that to your advantage, you stare at Dejun through the material as you slowly lower yourself towards the outline of his hardened cock. Letting out a warm breath is the only warning you give.

Your tongue peeks out of your mouth and smooths over the lace underneath you, the scratchiness feeling a lot like a kitten’s lick. It has the breath stuttering in Dejun’s chest, lungs shaken. Maybe you can afford to have a little more fun for yourself.

The next few minutes are spent in similar fashion. You alternate between licks that dampen the lace and open-mouthed kisses around the girth of Dejun’s dick. None of it seems to be very satisfying, but beads of precum leak from him anyway. You can taste its tang whenever your mouth passes over the tip of his dick.

“Please,” you hear as a whisper from above you. Paying attention to Dejun’s face finds him hazy with lust, eyes the darkest you’ve ever seen them. His hands are roaming the breadth of his own chest, fingers thumbing at his nipples whenever they pass close enough to do so. You can’t possibly suppress your smirk.

You hum in recognition that you’ve heard him but do nothing else to speed things along. That seems to break something in him.

“Please, I need to cum. Haven’t I been good?”

It’s an intoxicating question to say the least. Of course Dejun’s been good. Everything about tonight has been utterly rapturous. You just can’t help but want to hear more of him. His voice is heavenly, and he hasn’t used it nearly enough yet.

You leave a particularly harsh suck to the underside of his cock head before pulling back completely, smiling as that delivers you a ringing yelp. It’s a start.

“So good, sweetie. But if you want to be even better for me, you’ll let me hear that gorgeous voice of yours. I promise to give you what you want after,” you say with a rasp you didn’t intend. Maybe you both have been a bit more quiet than is your norm in bed.

Dejun responds with the prettiest blush and a quick nod of his head. You’re always needlessly charmed by how shyness isn’t anywhere near Dejun’s wheelhouse when it comes to matters of the bedroom, except when it also includes his voice.

He just doesn’t appreciate his music the way you do.

You continue right where you left off, making sure to suck around the girth of his cock more often than you were before. With it comes soft pants and desperate mewls that warm you from the inside out. If Dejun is playing up the porn noises, you can’t tell. He genuinely sounds like he’s coming undone.

“Please, oh my god, please suck my dick.” The end of his plea sounds more like a squeak than actual words, and that spurs you on more than anything else could.

You pull down those pretty, absolutely ruined, boxer shorts until Dejun’s cock is barely free. There’s not much room down here for them to go any further, so you make do. Planting your hands on his hips allows you to swallow him down as far as you can go.

“Ah, ahh, oh my god, yes please,” he whines in thin wisps. It sounds flighty around your ears, and you close your eyes to catch the words better. Unfortunately for Dejun, you don’t plan on moving just yet, wanting to figure out what sounds you can tease from him just like this.

He catches on quick that all you’re doing is cockwarming him, and that entices even better noises, born of frenzied arousal.

“Fuck… please, move please.” You give him one deliberate swallow but remain still otherwise. You can feel Dejun’s legs kick against the mattress underneath you.

“Oh my god, oh-,” his words catch on something, and you’re curious as to what that is. Opening your eyes reveals that he’s started to cry, small streams of tears that cut paths down his cheeks, the furrow of his eyebrows the tops of the mountains they stem from. He’s so pretty that you reward him with an additional swallow.

“Sh- ahh, oh my god, please. Please please let me cum. I can’t- please.”

The movement of his hands draws you away from his face, folding into the sheets beneath him. You’re dizzy with the thought that Dejun probably wants to fist your hair right now but knows better than to do so without permission.

He’s such a good boy for you. Always is. You moan so low that it’s barely audible, but it does its job in ripping out a groan from Dejun too.

From there, you slowly start to bob your head along most of the length of his cock. It’s nothing fancy, but it seems to be a relief for Dejun anyway as he freely gives you his angelic whimpers.

You pick up the pace soon after, employing the suction-on-the-downstroke and lick-on-the-upstroke move that Dejun loves so much.

“Yes, aha, ahhh, oh my god. S’good.” These are the last words you hear from him as he fully devolves into panting and moaning in tandem.

It becomes easy to close your eyes and fall into the rhythm necessary to keep up your ministrations. You’re determined to get Dejun to cum from this alone, too lazy to strategize using different moves for different outcomes, even if it means you’ll have to suck him off for longer.

Surprisingly, it’s only a couple of minutes later, just after the rhythm becomes almost meditative in nature, that you feel Dejun’s dick starting to twitch inside the heat of your mouth. Your eyes jump open to confirm that Dejun is indeed cumming. His keen is high and loud as you dig your nails into his hips in hopes of keeping him steady, cum hitting the back of your mouth.

Instinctively, you swallow often, not even letting the taste settle on your tongue. You’re quick on your feet though, and soon enough, swallowing becomes less about not choking and more about milking every last drop from Dejun. As the spurts of his cum lessen in frequency, you intersperse a few sucks around his head just to be thorough.

Before you realize it, a tremor settles into Dejun’s thighs as they pull up over your shoulders and around your ears. It’s probably oversensitivity talking as Dejun continues whining prettily above you.

With one final swallow, you pull off Dejun’s dick at an excruciatingly slow pace. Since it’s fun to be a little mean sometimes, you also follow the pull with the trail of your tongue. His legs squeeze and you hear breathy gasps that appear more wrecked than sound.

You’re hit with a quiet cough as soon as you pop off of Dejun’s dick, the need to clear your throat too great to hold in.

“Sorry,” Dejun pants out. “Came outta nowhere.”

You kiss his stomach in forgiveness and wrestle yourself out of Dejun’s grip. It’s not as easy a feat as it should be considering Dejun is all shaky and spent. His leg muscles are no joke, and he’s not really cooperating here either.

As you pull away completely, you bring the lace boxers with you; it can’t be pleasant to wear something so wet post-orgasm. You bring them to your hamper and come back to bed with a washcloth for cleanup. Lucky for you, your swallowing skills means there’s not much to wipe away.

It’s no time at all before you’re back in Dejun’s embrace but with his arms tucked around you now. You straighten his dress out for him and pat down his mussed up hair and check him over as he curls into your chest.

It’s an incredibly sweet moment.

Dejun only makes it more so when he uses his sweet voice to ask, “Was that good for you?”

You hum softly and do nothing to hide the smile behind your voice as you reply, “It was the best, my lovely boy. Thank you for doing this for me.

“Bought a garter belt too, but it hasn’t come in yet.” There’s an underlying hint of disappointment there, but all you can really fixate on is the image that is Dejun’s beautiful thighs in a garter belt.

“Next time, hun.” You pause. You’re probably making a lot of assumptions here, but Dejun did like dressing up like this, right? He had to have.

“Dejun,” you hesitate for a few seconds before remembering that communication is important, even if it’s about something as superficial as lingerie. “This was good for you too, right? You seemed to thrive under all the attention, but it wasn’t too much?”

He hides his face in your neck and seems to find courage buried there as he says, “That was amazing.” He takes a few seconds to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I didn’t know if I’d like it. But I did. A lot. You made me feel like I was precious.”

You play with the hairs at the base of his nape and hum simple notes, trying to process his words so as to avoid making an off-handed comment. “You are precious to me. In every way. Not just when you’re dressed up in pretty lingerie or tailored stage outfits. I love seeing you explore this side of you, but I also love you in sweats, when you don’t put on a face.”

He nuzzles closer and presses a gentle kiss to the skin of your throat. If you weren’t so attuned to Dejun and his needs right now, you might’ve missed the tiny, “Thank you,” he whispers there.

You don’t address it further. Dejun can be somewhat skittish about the intimate stuff, and you don’t want to force him any deeper into hiding. All you can do is hope that he understands that it’s ok to be vulnerable sometimes, that not every emotion has to be under lock and key.

You try and emulate that for him, in little ways, every day you spend together, like maybe he’ll learn it through osmosis or something. At the very least, you trust that, in giving him these pieces of yourself, he’ll care for you as much as you could ever want.

It’s a pretty good deal, all in all. One that’s made abundantly clear as you both doze your way into a peaceful evening catnap.

[symp-honey]

pushing your boundaries (part 1)

▷ relationship: yangyang x gn!reader

▷ words: 4915

▷ content warnings: nsfw (minors dni), anal fingering, oral, cockwarming (briefly), overuse of the word ‘like’ in conversation

▷ summary: you find out your boyfriend is curious about anal. you also find it's not very hard to indulge him in his wishes.

[prologue]

It’s about a week and a half after that initial conversation, and Yangyang keeps spamming you messages as you finish eating dinner.

You snicker as he gives you a play-by-play of something that happens pretty commonly. He’s never this detailed when it comes to forewarning you of his overnight stays. Usually, you’re lucky if you get a “sleeping over tonight” from him with how often he crashes at your place without meaning to. It’s taught you to be better prepared with extra food in the fridge and clean towels in the linen closet.

You’ve gotten pretty decent at reading the hidden meanings behind Yangyang’s emoji choices, since you both err on the side of caution with your texts, and if you have to venture a guess, you’d say he’s pleased that you’re on the same page as he is. You make the effort to like his last message just to reinforce that you are indeed on the same page. Tonight is the night.

You force yourself to take this one step at a time, finishing your dinner at a leisurely pace so that you don’t feel compelled to jump ahead of yourself. It’s impossible to stop from making a mental list while you’re at it, though: lube, wet wipes, a water bottle, that big fluffy towel you both like for sex, an extra set of sheets nearby just in case. You’ll have to ask Yangyang whether he’s eaten enough today when he walks through the door. These are simple enough tasks to do in the time left. You’re not expecting Yangyang too soon anyway.

As you clean the dishes, the monotony of the task paves way for your mind to wander. These past few days have found you on online forums and columns, cataloging as many different experiences from people as possible. You’re not ignorant of what anal is and how it works, of course, but everyone is so unique and you don’t want to presume that what you know will align perfectly with what Yangyang will experience.

He might be really sensitive and need to be handled gently. He might feel overwhelmed and need distractions via words or touch. He might feel right at home and get whiny about you treating him like he’s breakable glass. It’s heady, trying to pin down all the possibilities of how this night can go without verging too far into horny territory. You have to be on your A-game after all.

Getting everything settled seems to take too long and simultaneously no time at all, as you finish dishes and gather everything you need in the bedroom. You’re aware of every move it takes to fold the duvet over the foot of the bed and to rearrange pillows at hip and neck level and to tuck the towel where it needs to go and to turn on the lights behind your headboard for ambiance and to light a candle that smells like clean laundry. It’s almost therapeutic to go through each motion and center yourself to the here and now. It certainly makes you feel better prepared anyhow, and that’ll have to be good enough.

After debating on rereading some of the bookmarked pages from your research and deciding against it, you curl up on the couch with your current book read. At about halfway through it, you’re confident you’re at an exciting enough point in the story to get sucked right back in without Yangyang-related thoughts distracting you. Luckily, you’re right about being able to get immersed, because before long, you hear the small click of the door opening.

“Hiii~” Yangyang says enthusiastically as he strips himself of his outerwear. You peek at him over the back of the couch with a smile hidden in plain sight. When he finally makes his way over to you, you tuck your book away and open your arms for him.

Holding Yangyang close to your chest and wrapping your legs with his is always a comfort you look forward to at the end of the day. You leave wet kisses along his temple just because you can. “Good day?”

“Better now that I’m here.” He nuzzles his face in your neck and releases a puff of air that tickles your skin. You leave an even sloppier kiss on his forehead in retaliation.

“Have you eaten yet?”

He hums and somehow burrows himself even deeper in your embrace. “Had a big lunch and lots of snacks. I’m ok for now,” he speaks softly against your skin and the goosebumps his voice raises make you shiver. He holds still, waiting your reaction out, trying to read the mood. You press the pads of your fingers firmly into muscle and heave out a long, slow breath. As Yangyang finally looks up out of his nesting place, he finds your eyes and keeps steady. “Is this really happening?”

“If you want it to. You can always say no,” you whisper back and move a hand up to play with the fringe flirting along the tops of his eyes.

“I want it.” You can’t help but feel a little proud of Yangyang and his confidence. The surety warms you from the inside out and encourages you to pull him in for a full kiss.

Sliding your lips in between the gaps of his is the best. Breathing softly and tilting your head to spur him into opening up is like coming home. It’s easy to lose threads of time right here, doing this. You’ve already lost count of how many times your thumb has stroked a valley into Yangyang’s back, the same spot rubbed over and over in hopes of coaxing tingles into the nerves.

The only way to anchor yourself back into reality is by slowing down, resting your lips gently along Yangyang’s Cupid’s bow, and whispering, “good thing I got everything set up.”

He perks up at that. He leans back and looks at you with a hint of awe and smiles his gummy, sunshine smile that makes you thrilled to be the one who can give this to him. “You’re the best.”

-

“This is comfy,” Yangyang quips as he lays down where the pillows dictate he belongs. He’s already stripped down to nothing, and the contrast of that to you in your loungewear makes heat simmer in your belly.

You wait until he’s fully settled before climbing between the vee of his legs and replying, “that’s the idea. Want you as comfortable as possible.”

“What’s the plan anyway? I never asked.” Yangyang wiggles his hips slightly, a movement easily missed if you weren’t attuned to everything he’s doing right now. It belays his nerves, however slight they are; squirminess is his go to fidget whenever he strays a bit too far into his head during sex.

You rest your palms atop of his hips, bracketing his cock in between their spread. You can tell he isn’t fully soft anymore, probably hasn’t been since your make out session on the couch. He’s exactly where you want him. As you start a steady drum of your fingers against his skin, you answer him with a soft tone, “I’m just gonna use my fingers today. Is that ok?”

Your gaze doesn’t stray from his crotch, eyeing everything from the thick short hairs around the base of his dick to the pucker of his asshole. It’s hard to miss the shiver against the feel of your hands before you hear him say, “that’s perfect, yeah.” The rasp in Yangyang’s voice draws a smirk from your lips with ease. Already so eager.

You sink down to rest your lips against the skin taut around his belly button and finally look up. Yangyang’s pupils are enlarged, almost no iris left to be seen, and it’s an easy decision to start nibbling where you lie. Every valley of abdominal muscle becomes your playground to teethe and bite and lick to your heart’s content. It’s not as if you needed to bring Yangyang’s arousal any more to the forefront, but it never hurts to engage in foreplay when time permits. His sighs and gasps are an added bonus, a little treat you thoroughly enjoy savoring.

You finally become aware of your hands, which have been stationed at his waist since you began. While working on marking a particularly dark hickey into the plush of his lower stomach, you decide to drag your shortened nails lightly against his sides. Yangyang jolts against your hold, his cock kicking against the underside of your chin. He can’t help but whine and grasp at your hair as well. It’s a good indication that he’s starting to loosen his hold on his composure.

A few more hickeys along Yangyang’s pant line has him panting and squirming up a storm. “Babe,” you growl as you pause and look up at him.

“Please. I need more.” You take a second to evaluate where his arousal sits. Levels seem high, but if you had to guess, you’d say they’re not at threat of cresting just yet. It’s easy to calculate what your next move should be then. Using your hands, you push yourself up, using Yangyang’s hips as leverage, to make enough room so that you can shuffle your knees a little further down the bed. Your hands come with you and find a new home on his thighs. If you take a quick detour to grope and squeeze them a few times, you can’t be blamed.

The new position let’s you kneel back down into Yangyang’s space to start licking around the top of his thigh. The drag of your tongue leads you right where you want to be: at his dick. You hum as you take one of his balls into your mouth, using the distraction to run your fingers more inward, stroking where thigh meets ass. It produces Yangyang’s first moan of the night and the satisfaction it brings feels electrifying.

Getting your elbows locked into place underneath you allows you to really start putting pressure behind the press of your fingers. You don’t do anything fancier than short, firm strokes along the curve of a cheek or across the opening of his ass, because the real showstopper is how your tongue laps at his balls and draws them deep into your mouth where you suck on them hard. Yangyang can cum like this, so you pay attention to how quickly his writhing grows.

Right before he cums, you pull your mouth away completely and press your thumb gently into his perineum. You watch in awe as he pulls at the pillows around his head and lets out a long keen, his breath heaving in his chest. Staying suspended in that moment for a few seconds ratchets up the heat in your own groin, but it’s secondary to cataloging how the blush slowly retreats from the surface of Yangyang’s skin as he moves further away from orgasm.

Once his breathing steadies into something calmer, you rest your head against his leg and catch his attention. “You ok to keep going?” pushing against his perineum to signify exactly what you mean to do next.

“Yes, please. I want your fingers so badly.” His words aren’t much more than a breathy sigh, and it serves to reassure you just as much as the simple plea does.

You unfurl from your spot and crawl your way up Yangyang’s body, leaving a few pecks along the way. Your aim is to move the bottle of lube from the nightstand closer, but Yangyang’s wide eyes distract you. Smiling against his lips never gets old to you. Even when you share better kisses than this, there’s still contentment to be had in something so simple.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers against your lips as he knocks foreheads with you. You feel the added touch of his fingerprints on your clavicle too.

“Don’t thank me yet, we haven’t gotten to the main attraction.” You tilt your face upwards enough to kiss the tip of his nose as a light giggle escapes you because of his misplaced sincerity.

Nothing about Yangyang’s tone says that he thinks of this lightly, however. “Doesn’t matter. This is already way better than I imagined.”

“Well then I hope this next part exceeds expectations too,” you say with fondness. You’re sure that even if it doesn’t, Yangyang will still appreciate the overall experience. He’s good like that, able to find things to like about everything he tries.

You press a final kiss to his lips, before grabbing the lube and settling back on your haunches. Noticing the towel bunched awkwardly against the swell of Yangyang’s butt, thrown askew from all his wriggling, you place one hand under the small of his back and lift before straightening it out with the other.

“Good?” you ask of him as you set his lower body back down, noticing a faint rosiness across his nose as he nods and shimmies his hips into a comfortable position. “Good.”

You pop the lid of the bottle open and pour a sizeable amount of lube onto the length of your first two fingers, rubbing it with your thumb to warm it up some. Luckily, the bottle is empty enough to lay it on its side in front of your knees, lid open, without spilling, making it easily accessible as things progress.

The pads of your fingers find their way to the pucker of Yangyang’s hole, and you rub little circles in what you hope is a soothing motion. It looks like Yangyang clenches his pelvic muscles in response with how his pucker winks.

He probably needs some distracting. His dick is conveniently close, and it’s a good idea as any to bring your mouth around him and swallow him whole. The nice thing about Yangyang being smaller than average is that you can fit the entirety of his length in your mouth and not choke. He always praises you when you have all of his cock sheathed in warm wetness too, so it’s a win-win.

You set a good rhythm of swallowing sporadically while pushing against his hole in random beats. The unpredictability of it causes Yangyang to start bucking his hips and letting out a litany of gasps, from soundless to full-bodied. Normally, you wouldn’t care about how reckless he is with his thrusting, but it makes staying steady against his hole more difficult, so you use your unused arm to pin him down.

As soon as his hips stop moving, you start pushing the pads of your fingers into the opening of his hole. You make sure to be insistent without pushing hard enough to actually penetrate him. It’s just enough to get the muscle to relax and accept the suggestion of taking more.

Pulsing the pads of your fingers against his opening is like pressing some kind of button inside Yangyang’s psyche, because he starts rambling about nonsense.

“Oh yes, pl-“

“I- I can’t-“

“Oh my go-. Babyy.”

Keeping up with the random swallowing around his cock seems to do the trick. On one particularly rough swallow, you manage to slip the first knuckle of your middle finger fully inside of him. It’s heaven to hear him moan out. All because you’re successfully taking him apart as if unwrapping a gift. The present is the hot velvet feel of being inside Yangyang, wiggling the tip of your finger in order to further chase that sensation.

You can tell Yangyang is trying to push his hips closer into your touch, so you increase the pressure of your arm. It’s not the right time for Yangyang to rush this, especially with the haze of his horniness bearing down.

“It’s good. More, more.” Seems like Yangyang isn’t capable of following your line of logic, if his words are anything to go by. Still, you do nothing more than pet along the inside edge of his rim.

You release Yangyang’s cock from your mouth and use his surprise to grab the lube with your non-dominant hand and squeeze more out following the line of his ass. The thickness of it glistens in the low light, the slow path of it dripping down towards your fingers like syrup tantalizing. You curl your index finger away and catch its descent with your thumb instead, middle finger still nestled inside. The angle is better for rubbing the added lube along the outside edges of his hole, pressing the pad of your thumb into skin.

Taking this chance to look up at Yangyang finds him nodding at you in small, aborted movements, his own fingers inside his mouth. It’s clear now, in hindsight, that all his mumbling has been muffled around skin and nails.

“Yes, yes please.” You watch his face carefully, pushing past the resistance around the knuckle of your middle finger, using the breadth of your thumb to help slick the way.

“Oh- oh my god, ok that’s weird.” A sudden pause tells you that half of your finger is sheathed.

“Bad weird?” You start nibbling on skin again, never breaking eye contact, not nearly as invested as leaving marks as before, just hoping to alight some nerves far away from Yangyang’s ass.

He lets out a soundless sigh and rests his head back against cotton. It looks as if he’s reorienting himself, maybe adjusting to sensations that are brand new for him. He addresses your ceiling when he says, “I think it’s ok. Just gimme a second.”

You nose a spot against his leg that looks comfy and decide it’s a good place to lean your head on, even if only for a moment. You’d give Yangyang all the time he needs.

A thought overcomes you, and it’s not as if you’re in a position to hold it back. Not now when Yangyang is quite literally open to you. “Baby,” you huff and nuzzle your face closer, catching a hint of sweat underneath Yangyang’s natural musk. “I love you. Thank you for trusting me.”

He looks back down at you, the fire behind his eyes reignited into a low flicker of intensity. But there’s room there for him to loiter in it too. You can see him make the decision to slow down and warm his hands by the flame instead of reaching out and burning his fingertips off in a rush. It casts him aglow, a pink hue taking to his complexion like the heat can’t contain itself, like it’s compelled to warm its way through every vein in his body. The fire is a sprite, you realize, once it curls itself up and lays across the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks, its home found in your sprightly boyfriend.

It’s the only explanation for why his, “I love you too,” sets you ablaze.

“Let me make you feel good.” You don’t know when desperation took hold of you too, but it’s here to wreck you both if you don’t focus it deftly.

Yangyang’s slight nod is all the confirmation you need to rear your head forward and take his dick in your mouth again, swallowing back the flood of saliva that comes with it. Yangyang’s taken to squirming and gasping, but you pay it little mind as you rotate your middle finger in small arcs, no big motions just yet.

The movement helps to loosen him though. You feel it in how the pucker of his hole stops squeezing your finger tightly. You take this as a sign to curl the tip just enough to register in the haze of Yangyang’s horniness, his next exhale a moan that jostles his chest above you.

It’s easy to build up from there, alternating from aborted rotations of your finger to small pushes and pulls that seem to rock Yangyang to the core. He can’t stop moaning and grasping at the sheets and pleading. That last tell makes it obvious enough that Yangyang wants to cum, but you’re sure that just warming his cock in your mouth isn’t enough stimulation to actually get him there.

And you don’t want his release yet anyway, not when the real fun has just begun.

You know you’re aiming for his prostate, but it becomes a tangential goal to hearing Yangyang make as many noises as you can extract from him. Every once in a while though, you curl your finger upwards and hear a loud whimper. You’re close. The length of your finger inside just doesn’t quite make the cut.

But it’s ok. You continue making minuscule pumps inward and stretching his rim on the draw backwards. The scratchiness taking hold in the back of your throat where the tip of Yangyang’s cock knocks on occasion is still peripheral enough to not be an issue either.

It eventually becomes obvious that the lube is your limiting factor to this game you have going, however. It’s slid around, making your finger start to catch whenever you curl it close to the opening. With a sigh you pull everything back a bit.

Yangyang’s dick falls back to lay against his stomach and the tip of your finger is all that’s left inside him. You should’ve known that would send off the next round of begging.

“Please, oh my god, please don’t stop.”

“I need more lube, baby. Unfortunately, this stuff doesn’t stay put forever.”

Yangyang’s breath has finally caught up with him as he pants out, “guess I need to make some that does.”

It’s such a silly thing to say in the moment, but that's part of his charm. “Is that gonna be your next big project? Inventing lube that never moves?”

“Yeah,” he whines. “I’m gonna be rich.” That startles a laugh out of you, which admittedly makes you a little sloppier as you add more lube to your finger. But it’s okay. Being a little messy is hot.

You slide back in with so much ease that you predict that there’s not much time in this game left; Yangyang is yielding enough to suggest he’s fully lost to the sensations. It’s why you crook up as soon as you’re knuckles deep, skimming against his prostate with ease. Best to make this last part mind-numbingly good in hopes of hearing all your favorite noises.

You’re not disappointed as Yangyang truly lets go. You garner different reactions from different actions to his prostate: short pulses build him up quickly, have him muttering breathless “fuck”s in between irregular pants; longer pets suspend him in air, see him scrunching his eyes and letting out sustained moans. But your favorite has to be the tight circles and how they pluck the sweetest “please”s you’ve ever heard from the depths of his soul. And who are you to deny him?

It can’t take much more attention to his cock to get him to cum, given how desperate he sounds, so you’re deliberately slow as you lick a faint stripe up the underside. You land at his frenulum and dig the tip of your tongue in hard, concurrent with a particularly rough swipe against his prostate, and he’s gone.

“Shit, I’m-,“ it’s barely a warning before ropes of white paint his stomach, more fluid than you were expecting. It’s easy from there to ride out his high for him, using your fingers in those tight circles and your tongue in sweet kitten licks to milk him of everything he has. It’s a lot.

Maybe it’s weird to feel pride in seeing him so dirty, but you do anyway. He looks good debauched like this.

“Woah that was wild, what the fuck,” Yangyang says once more to the ceiling. Your finger and tongue both naturally came to a standstill, but you take his breathless exclamation as your queue to lick the smear of come gently off the tip of his dick.

“Ahhh, ah-, fuck don’t do that. ‘M sensitive.”

You look up and really take in the scene in front of you, the sweat that’s gathered along his hairline, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his lungs clamor for air, the slow blinks that try to clear the daze in his eyes as he gathers his bearings.

It’s a waiting game for him to finally see you staring at him. Once he does, you finally check in. “You doing ok?” You refuse to remove your finger until he nods an affirmative, slow as can be on the withdraw.

“That was like wild though. I’ve never cum like that before.” Yangyang tries to lift himself up on his elbows and falls back down to the pillows. “Oh, dizzy,” he follows up with a chuckle.

With your new-found freedom, you reach back up towards the nightstand and grab the wet wipes. You set out on cleaning up the mess before you. “Tell me about how it felt.”

Gentle swipes seem to lull Yangyang into a weird calm where he’s usually squirmy with the feeling of wetness against heated skin. It allows you to take better care and really get him squeaky clean.

“I don’t know. It was like.. intense, I guess. I thought I was gonna cum like way sooner than I did. But it kept, like, growing instead.”

After cleaning up the obvious spill against his abdomen, you start maneuvering his arms so you can reach at the sweat on his pits with a new wipe. The fact that this isn’t tickling Yangyang is telling of just how spacey he is. You press kisses on his triceps for good measure.

“Was it too much?”

“Don’t think so. I don’t know. Like, I’m still floating right now. Ask again later.”

An easy enough request.

You set about humming something that Yangyang keeps bringing home with him. It’s catchy and easy to replicate and good background noise to what’s become the most reverent aftercare you’ve ever done.

Kisses are given freely between every swipe and rub, uncountable in their number. You spend extra time around his crotch once you finally get there, ensuring glimmers along his skin dry away to nothing before moving onto the next spot. Lube is always the worst in that way, but you’re glad it gives you the excuse now to spend extra time doting on Yangyang.

Since you can’t reach any skin for kisses, you massage the muscle of his thighs where they rest on top of yours instead. It’s meditative for you both, if Yangyang’s droopy eyes are any indication.

Once you’re satisfied with the come down, you withdraw from his space completely to toss the used wipes.

You come back quickly and help sit him up enough to drink some water. “You want some snacks, baby?”

He shakes his head and says, “not right now. Just want you.”

It’s sweet and heart-fluttering in all the ways you’ve come to love about Yangyang, especially because he says it so naturally. So of course, you join him in bed and curl yourself around the side of him.

The side of his face is free for all the kisses you could possibly want to peck there, so you do.

He giggles and nuzzles his face even closer to you.

“That wasn’t too much, right?” you softly ask.

“No. It was great. I’m ruined for like anything else.” He turns his face just in time to capture your lips on your next kiss. It’s chaste and utterly perfect. You press a few more while he’s there.

“Hmm, guess I’ll have to step it up then. Give you more of that in the future.”

He leans back and catches your eyes before asking, “you’d do it again?”

You can’t help but smile. “Of course. You know how much I love to pleasure you. And these were your best reactions, hands down.”

He flushes suddenly and scrunches his face at you.

“Oh, now you’re shy?” You laugh and attack his neck with even more kisses, these ones loud and wet.

“Stooop,” he whines and tries to wiggle away, though without much effort. You don’t relent right away, not when your laugh still grips you, not while this moment feels heaven-sent.

Eventually, Yangyang rolls onto his side away from you and curls up as small as possible to protect himself. The pillow and towel underneath his hips get kicked into your knees.

“Yangyang! Now I have lube all over me,” you pout loudly enough to hear in your words.

“Karma, babe.” He takes a peek at you from his hiding spot and smirks.

You send him an unconvincing glare and kick at his feet before collecting the mess in a jumble in your arms. There might be a quick fire at your heels that has you hurrying to the laundry hamper, but it’s absolutely not because you want to get back to Yangyang as soon as possible. You absolutely are not imagining how good the cuddles are going to be when you get back or how Yangyang might even want to be the little spoon this time. And you certainly aren’t thinking of how you two still feel solid, even after breaching new levels of intimacy, because if you do, you’ll most likely become dizzy from the implications of that. You’ll contemplate that another night.

[symp-honey]

pushing your boundaries (prologue)

▷ relationship: yangyang x gn!reader

▷ words: 883

▷ content warnings: nsfw (minors dni), explicit talk, not much else tbh this is pretty tame (for now)

▷ summary: you find out your boyfriend is curious about anal. you also find it's not very hard to indulge him in his wishes.

Yangyang and you have mastered the art of co-existing. Any time he comes over to your place, which is as often as his schedule permits, it’s common that you two find yourselves sprawled across various surfaces doing your own thing. It’s comfortable in a way a lot of the relationships in your life aren’t, quiet a blanket that covers you both in ease. You feel the love that belies this domesticity most whenever Yangyang refills your glass during a quick break or brings back enough snacks to your nest to share, a love that has stabilized itself significantly over the past seven months together.

Maybe it’s this love that serves as a basis for the conversation that happens next, one you never foresaw. You have to give Yangyang props for keeping it under wraps for so long. He brings it up on an evening when you’re both a little listless, legs tangled together as you lay against opposite ends of the couch. You can’t be sure what Yangyang has been doing to keep himself preoccupied, but all you’ve gotten up to for the last half hour is switching aimlessly between different social media apps on your phone.

“Baby?” There’s a hint of trepidation that tapers Yangyang’s tone into something softer. It catches you off guard considering how plain this evening has gone.

“Hm?” You don’t feel the need to say much, but you do lock your phone and nestle it into the folds of the blanket on your lap before looking up. Yangyang is absentmindedly chewing his bottom lip. You also notice the twitch of his fingers where he’s holding his own phone close to his chest. It’s easy enough to wait for him to find his words.

“Do you ever wanna, I don’t know, do something different? In bed?” Your gut reaction is to say no, since you both have a healthy sex life as is; nothing about what you’ve done so far leaves you unsatisfied. But you can tell this is a serious question, and so you sit on your answer for a bit.

Are there things you’d want to do with Yangyang outside of your tried and true? Possibly. There are certainly fantasies you used to fall back on frequently before this relationship, ones that made your orgasms so much more satisfying when you only had you to rely on. Those fantasies just haven’t been necessary now that Yangyang’s come into the picture. “I like what we do, but I’m also open to trying new things. Is there something you want to try?”

His gaze shifts away, almost as if he’s nervous, and so you guess you’ve hit the nail on the head. There’s something specific he wants to do, and you’re dying to coax it out of him now that your curiosity has been stoked. “Yangyang, it’s just me.” You offer the softest smile you can muster and it seems to catch his attention enough to look back at you.

He takes in a big inhale of air and starts fumbling his way out of his thoughts. “Like.. I know prostate orgasms are great or whatever. Obviously. I’ve just never had one. And like, am I missing out? Probably, right? Like there’s something that would make sex even better than it is, and I’m too scared to try-“

“Babe, hey,” you say as you lean forward and grab his leg. The physical contact seems to stop the rambling more than your voice does, which is great because you really don’t want that train to run off its rails. “First off, please don’t feel like you have to do this.” You pause, hoping to emphasize what you think is the most important point here. Yangyang should only experience anal if he wants to.

Before you can continue, Yangyang shifts upward and forward and seems determined when he barrels right into his next rant. “I want to do this. I’m just scared. Like, I’ve never had a steady enough partner to even consider it. But now I do, and the anticipation is a lot. I think about it like all the time. And I’ve tried to like.. touch myself there but then I chicken out, which is stupid because I want to try! I always figured I just like needed someone else to help get me there.”

You’re so ridiculously fond of Yangyang, and you’re sure it’s written all over your face if the delayed blush creeping up Yangyang’s neck is any indication. “I can help you with that, if that’s what you want.” The smile is impossible to keep at bay, so you lean into its spread and squeeze down against the shin resting in your palm.

“Really?” Yangyang says with an edge of excitement, and it sets off a round of laughter from the depths of your soul as you nod emphatically. Why try to explain how head over heels you are for this boy when you can just reach out for his arms, pull him back into your reclined embrace, and kiss him silly? So that’s exactly what you do. If he giggles a lot and runs out of breath too easily and ruts his half-hard cock against your lap enthusiastically, then no one needs to know outside of you two and the walls of your living room.

[part 1]

[symp-honey]

an approaching tide

[inspired by this goregous selca chenle dropped after their festival performance; I had to honor this pretty boy]

content warnings: nsfw (minors dni), handjob, sea-faring metaphors in relation to sex

“You’re staring,” Chenle says to you with his back turned. You know. You haven’t stopped looking at him since he stepped foot into your hotel room, post-performance and looking like a dream.

“Am I?” You don’t mean to tease. More than anything, you just want Chenle’s attention so that you can fully take in how stunning he is tonight.

Sure enough, he turns to you with a sour face that shows he’s unamused. He’s clearly not unamused enough to hold the expression for long though, breaking into a grin when he hears your laugh answer him back.

“Can’t help it when you’re so pretty, babe.” Those seem to be the magic words that finally call him to you like a sailor to a siren’s song. He crawls into bed next to you, looking as equally cozy in his oversized tee and briefs as he does breathtaking in his stage makeup and pigtails.

You reach out as soon as he’s within reach, bringing your hand to where his bangs hang in his eyes and brushing them aside. It’d feel wrong to touch him with anything heavier-handed than this gentle caress.

Your eyes trace over his features with better clarity now that he’s close, and you feel deep thirst with how much you want to take him in. Everything from the chainlinks looped into the braid at the top of his hair to the messiness of his fringe, from the slight chappedness of his lips to the smudge of shadow around his eyes that amplify the darkness they hold, it all entraps you, makes you question whether you’re the siren at all in this voyage.

Chenle seems to glow under all the attention.

Usually, you’d be more adverse to stroking his ego so obviously like this, but it’s hard to resist how magnetic he is in this moment where the world is quiet save the crashing waves of blood in your ears.

It wouldn’t be in Chenle fashion to let it lay at rest, however. Once he’s satisfied with your fill, he says, “You want to kiss me so bad,” with a smirk to accompany the rib.

“Lucky for you, I want to do even more.”

You tangle your fingers in the strands of Chenle’s hair that curl away and use the leverage to pull his lips towards yours. It results in a softer kiss than you were expecting, exhaustion creeping up on the edges of Chenle’s periphery in a way that calms him.

You press kiss after kiss to the swell of his bottom lip, which only serves to loosen him further from the tension weighing on his shoulders. It’s easy then to whisper a request in the gaps in between, a simple, “Let me take care of you,” that cuts the final fiber of the anchor pulling Chenle down.

He moans as he has a controlled fall against you, all limb and muscle to contend with now that he’s absolved of responsibility.

You giggle as you rearrange him to your liking. There’s a leg thrown over one of yours, a cheek resting on your chest that grants easy access for you to play with Chenle’s hair as he curls around your body like a comma.

Like this, Chenle is yours to care for.

You nuzzle your nose into the crown of his hair as you play with the strands at his nape. He smells like a lot of things - stale air, a little bit of sweat, and hairspray with a hint of sweetness - and you can’t get enough. You kiss him here too, because Chenle deserves to know that he’s precious enough to warrant head kisses.

All the petting and cooing only makes Chenle melt against you further. He’s lax in a way he only really gets after being on stage, when adrenaline leaves him marooned on a tide of tiredness.

You covet these moments the most as of late. They’re not frequent, which makes them all the more special. You’ll willingly sail towards him if it means basking in this warmth.

It’s why it’s so easy for you to reach down with the arm not curled around Chenle’s back, why it’s so easy to palm at the chub in his underwear and close your eyes to the whimpers it elicits.

You build a steady rhythm from there, one that’s not too fast, that allows you both to luxuriate in the feeling for a little while more. And you touch your lips to his hair too so that Chenle can feel your pleased sighs in the same way you can feel his whines against your chest.

This is probably the softest handjob you’ve ever given Chenle, and it warms your heart to be able to take his cock out of the confines of cotton, to hold it gently in your grasp and press the tips of your fingers into its head.

It warms your heart to show your love with such intimacy.

Chenle doesn’t last long once there’s skin-on-skin contact. He’s spilling over with the quietest gasp you’ve probably ever heard from him, but in the silence of the room, it echoes as if carried by wind.

You’re lured in by the sound, filled with enchantment. You would coo if you knew it wouldn’t dissolve the magic of the moment.

Rather, you carry on with soft hair kisses and held breaths at Chenle regaining enough function to lick the cum off your fingers and tuck his dick away. You return to nuzzling his hair too, just to stretch these seconds out for as long as possible.

Chenle cuddles even closer then. You can’t help but whisper a quiet praise, a sincere, “You were amazing tonight, my pretty boy.”

He buries his face further into your chest and hums a barely-there, “I know.”

And just like that, sleep carries you both into a dreamless state as peaceful as the sex that preceded it.

[symp-honey]

Blog overview

A nsfw writing blog for NCT - minors are NOT welcome here - NO reposting or translating of my work allowed - feel free to ask if you have further questions

About me

▷ 27, queer, they/she, goes by hun/hon

Writing guidelines

▷ willing to write for every member

▷ m/gn, m/f, m/m in moderation

▷ requests are always open for headcanons, thoughts, or mtl lists

▷ drabbles, one shots, and multi-part series are separate from requests unless I receive an ask that is particularly inspiring

▷ minimal editing on all writing, this blog is my push to get back into writing regularly/consistently, everything is just for fun!

Squicks

▷ non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, incest/step-family, gore/violence, cheating, age play/pedophilia

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▷ drabbles, stories - #honey 🍯 (honey honey lit the fire)

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