#ngnhdn i have moved on from my asshole! idol era to my lovestruck love drunk loser idol era

[hannie-dul-set]

CITRUS IN THE MORNING.

p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — fluff, lovestruck! sunghoon just being Very In Love. w — kissing. 403 words.

note — i have So Much feelings for this man and i just had to let it out somehow or else i'd die. hope u enjoy.

sunghoon, who has only ever daydreamed of holding you in his arms, feels dizzy when the citrus of your perfume hits his senses and the intoxication of your skin against his leaves his head in a blur and heart beat in a frenzy. he feels clouds over his head. he thinks he’s still dreaming.

“you look silly.”

but he’s not. it’s made apparent that you’re very real when your soft giggles hisses fireworks into his ears, when the warmth from your palms seep into his cheeks in tangerine shades, overripe from the love and adoration that swells in his chest every time he looks at you, at your eyes— what more when you’re making his midsummer daydreams come true? one word from you, and he’d melt himself into oblivion.

“is...is this okay?” he asks as if he’s committing a crime, as if holding his lover (he still isn’t used to calling you that) in his arms is a blasphemous act of treason. it’s evident in the nervous tremors of his knuckles on your hips as you’re sitting cross legged on his lap, smiling so sweetly.  it’s evident in his shaky breaths and the quiver of his throat. it’s evident when his grip suddenly becomes tighter.

the heavens should punish him for being blessed with the sight of an angel’s smile.

“it’s okay,” you hum and press a quiet kiss on jaw. he could die in your arms right now and be reborn in the earth’s soil all in the same breath just so you can slaughter him over and over again— with your warmth, with your embrace, with clementine kisses you’re peppering on his face, spritzing douses of saccharine pulses onto his cheeks. “tell me what you want. i’ll make your dreams come true, sunghoon.”

you already have, but he can’t say that out loud. he’s been granted the privilege of the dream that is you. 

“kiss me more.”

yet sunghoon surprises himself with his own greed. the sweetness of your lips all over his fevered skin must have lulled him to the senseless temptation of wanting to taste them with his own. but you’re so kind, so obliging to entertain his treacherous greed, and within a second’s notice, the electric citrus of your mouth on his bursts like a million pulps of tart and honey, and sunghoon is breathless, helpless, and smitten with the sound, sight, scent, and taste of you.

CITRUS IN THE MORNING. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.