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blueberrybeomgyu · 19 days ago

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୨⎯ "attention" ⎯୧ (kdh)

+*:🩷:*﹤descrip. : leehan just wants ur eyes on him!!

+*:🌟:*﹤content : smut, sub!leehan, dom!reader, edging, riding (who's surprised), surely this is exhibitionism and voyeurism???

+*:🧃:*﹤warnings : 18+ mdni! :T (i'm watching you 🫵), female anat 4 reader, piv sex, both characters are quite flawed imo but everything is consensual 🫶, leehan confesses to reader like ten times but it's mostly in his head, leehan’s kinda weird in the mall sorry idk how men flirt idk how anyone flirts, leehan has a scent kink in my book idk how that happened but it did

+*:🍓:*﹤word count: 4.7k phew it's a long one buckle up

+*:💙:*﹤ a/n: i tried my best to write the first paragraph as plot but it was so hard so I wrote it in drabble format but the rest is in story format!! sawry bout that </3 selfedging!leehan anon if you read this i hope u like it <33

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BF!Leehan who wants your eyes on him, but you've been so focused on work, leaving early and coming home late. He knows it's important, that you have to finish your project by the deadline, but he can't help but feel a little selfish about your time when you've rarely spoken to him in the past two weeks. He's barely even seen you, always falling asleep despite trying to stay up when you come home, and he's getting antsy missing your company.

You're sliding out of bed after only being home for five hours. He’d startled awake when you came in, but you were too tired to talk, too tired to change before collapsing on the bed.

He’d changed you himself, gently wiping your makeup off and massaging lotion into your skin, then held you close to him as you caught up on much-needed rest. He wakes up when he feels your body heat leave his side, and groans as he watches with foggy eyes as you disappear into the bathroom.

“Don’t go to work. Stay here with me,” he begs sweetly when you come back out. You consider it, he can see it on your face, but you ultimately shake your head.

“I can’t, baby. Gotta get this project done, then I’ll be all yours, m’kay?” He pouts, but it doesn’t last long because you kiss it away and ruffle his already messed up hair. Within minutes, you’re out the door.

Leehan sulks in bed for a little longer, wishing he could make you pay attention to him. It feels like the only time you’re actually looking at him, thinking about him, is when the two of you are intimate with each other. It’s hard to find time in two busy schedules, but during those rare moments, it’s just you and him; the world around the two of you doesn’t exist anymore.

He’s so warm and safe in bed and the only thing that would make it better is if you were here with him, tangled up in the sheets and wasting the day away. He thinks about your soft skin and how sweet it smells, how warm your touch is when he’s lucky enough to be blessed with it, blessed by your gentle eyes and kind words when they’re focused only on him and spoken just for him to hear.

His hand is traveling under his waistband without hesitation, and thoughts of you clutter his mind as he wraps his palm around his length. He tries to mimic the way you squeeze his base and flick your thumb over his slit, tries to imagine it’s your pretty hands touching him this way. It's not long before stars are dancing behind his eyelids and he’s grunting out into the silent room.

You never want him to cum the first time around, and almost always pull away when he’s on the edge. He’s so used to the denial, to the feeling of his orgasm slipping out of his grasp that it just feels natural when he pulls his hand away from his cock. He sucks in a breath at the way it twitches and sees you, hears you in his imagination, saying, “Good boy, aren’t you so well-trained?”

He chews on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the burning hot need coursing through his veins, and an idea forms in his head. He knows he shouldn’t, but it should be fine, right? Just a voice message showing you how much he misses you. You wouldn’t get upset with him for that, surely.

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand and opens you guys’ text messages. He spends another four seconds convincing himself this is a good idea. Then he’s grabbing his cock again, pulling all the tricks to put him on the verge of tipping over. When he feels close, he presses the “Record a Message” button beside the text bar.

At first, it’s just shy little moans as he complains about how much he misses you, how much better it would feel if you were here. Then, they turn into desperate, raspy gasps as he pushes himself over the edge. The audio recording sends the second he releases the button, and he can’t unsend it, so he accepts his choices and waits to hear what you have to say.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The answer is absolutely nothing. You don’t respond to or address the audio recording at all, aside from a smirk and a “Did you have fun today?” that you throw his way when you walk through the front door.

He continues doing it, messages ranging from more audio recordings to photos of his stomach painted white, and usually you’ll kiss him, ruffle up his hand, call his “little treats” cute, make more promises to help him out when you’ve met your deadline.

He knows your work is important, but although guilt claws at him for it, Leehan still feels a bit hurt that you didn’t take his complaints to heart, just assumed it was another one of his trivial games.

Leehan can play games, and when you hole yourself up in the bedroom to type away at your laptop, he realizes that he will. He’ll do whatever it takes to get your attention.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You finally have a day off, and have decided you’d like to spend part of it at the mall looking through new arrivals. Leehan’s not big on shopping, so he just follows you around and occasionally gets distracted by fish merch.

You’ve stepped away at least four times to take phone calls from your coworkers, and you guys have only been at the mall for an hour and a half. When lunchtime rolls around, you excuse yourself again to answer a call from your boss, leaving Leehan alone to pick at his food in disinterest.

“Um, hi. Are you busy?” A feminine voice says. The girl has to stand directly in Leehan’s line of sight for him to realize she’s talking to him. When he looks up at her, she smiles shyly and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Can I help you?”

“No! Well, yes. I…was just wondering if I could have your phone number. I saw you standing alone earlier…” The girl’s voice fades out as Leehan peeps your approaching figure in the distance, and the gears in his head turn with another (probably bad) idea.

“...alone again here in the food court, so I thought I should take the chance.”

Leehan didn’t hear most of what she said, but he can tell when someone’s interested in him, and he can play along.

He flashes the girl a charming smile, dimples and all, and nods along to whatever she’s rambling about. She’s cute enough, and seems like a nice girl, but Leehan’s real focus is entirely on you as you watch the scene. He watches you as best as he can from his peripheral, but never takes his eyes off the girl in front of him.

“Is that…alright?” She says, looking at Leehan with wide, hopeful eyes. He pretends to consider whatever she asked, and holds a palm out for her to rest her hand in. Her face gets even redder, and he kind of feels bad that he’s using her to get to you.

He’s about to tell her that he’s sorry to disappoint, and that he appreciates it, he really does, but he has a girlfriend. He doesn’t get a chance to say any of that when you come up behind him seemingly out of nowhere and tap him on the shoulder. The girl pulls her hand away from Leehan’s and stands around awkwardly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You ask. Your arms are crossed and your eyes are locked on his, but not with the love and admiration he’s been longing for. His composure falters when he sees your expression, one that says he’s fucked up more than he knows.

“This girl came up to me and…” He trails off and gestures in the girl’s general direction.

“And?” You ask impatiently, but Leehan doesn’t know how he was going to conclude that sentence. This girl came up to me and I pretended to be interested to get a rise out of you? He has a feeling that’s not going to support his case well. You turn away from him and to the girl behind him, causing him to turn around as well.

“You’ll have to excuse my idiot boyfriend. I’m sorry he wasted your time instead of just telling you he was taken.” The girl nods in understanding and tries to hide her disappointed pout. She accepts your handshake when you offer it and hurries off.

You shoot Leehan another pissed glare, then dump your remaining food in the trash and walk out of the mall. He considers apologizing to the girl as well, but she’s already out of sight, so he trashes his own food and trails after you with a ball of shame sitting in his throat.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

To be honest, you scare Leehan just a little, especially when he knows you’re angry with him but you’re not talking about it. He’d rather you just chew his head off and get it over with, just tell him how much of an inconsiderate dumbass he is. You don’t, so the guilt manifests and manifests until he feels like he might puke it up.

You lock the front door and hang up your coat, and the first thing you say to him in the last twenty minutes is “Sit.”

Leehan parks his ass on the couch immediately, and waits to hear whatever other command you might give him. He expects you to sit next to him, or on the armchair by the couch or even on his lap. He doesn’t expect you to sit right across from him on the coffee table. At least a minute passes full of you just staring at him, and the silence is killing him.

“Baby–”

“Shut up,” you say, and his mouth clamps shut. You stare at him for a few more seconds, poking your inner cheek with your tongue in thought. Then, you shake your head and laugh in disbelief. Leehan watches as you cross your arms over your chest, and tries not to flick his eyes down to the way your boobs are being pushed up. He may be sick with horniness and loneliness, but it’s really not the time.

“Why are you acting like this, Leehan?” It takes Leehan a few seconds and a quirk of your eyebrow to realize you’re actually waiting for an answer, that you want him to speak now.

“What do you mean?” That’s his intelligent response. You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Don’t act dense with me. You were flirting with that girl just so I’d see. I know when you’re acting out for attention, and that’s exactly what you’ve been doing this entire week.” Leehan’s embarrassed at being caught so he shakes his head in denial, but it’s nowhere near convincing even to himself.

“No? You didn’t touch yourself and record it for me? Didn’t send me photos of you covered in your own cum? Didn’t flirt with a girl right in my face in a desperate attempt to get my attention?” Leehan’s cheeks burn at the direct confrontation. Hearing his actions out loud brings a fresh wave of shame over him, and he’s so ready to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness.

“Show me.”

Leehan’s eyes fly wide open and he lets out a nervous chuckle. “W-what?”

“You wanted my attention so bad. Now you have it,” you say with a bored expression. Your eyes leave a trail of fire wherever they land on his skin. He has your attention, and has to think of a way to keep it.

“Go ahead,” you command with a jerk of your head. Your lips are turned down into a frown, and it’s so condescending, like you don’t even want to be here. Leehan needs you to want to be here, and he’s nothing if not a performer. He lifts his hips and tugs his pants down to his thighs.

You make a noise, something between a hum and a coo, when he pulls his boxers down and his dick springs against his stomach.

“Your little cock is hard, Hannie.” He knows he’s not small, but your words are still humiliating, and still burn the need to impress you across his skin. “Gonna show me how you fucked yourself when you were moaning into your phone?”

Leehan’s hips buck against nothing, causing his member to slap against his stomach again, and his mouth falls open with a groan.

He does as you tell him, wrapping his hand around his cock like he’s been doing every morning for the past week, squeezing his base, flicking his tip, imagining it’s you, wishing it was you, but he doesn’t dare ask. Instead he watches your facial expressions, how your lips curl up into a smirk when he’s close.

“Stop,” you tell him, and he pulls his hand away without question. He would’ve been foolish to not expect the sensation of his orgasm floating farther and farther away from him. He tries to slow his breathing, tries not to lose his mind so early into this session.

“Keep going.”

He continues his previous pace immediately, and his hips tremble when he tries to stop them from bucking up. His tip is a bit more sensitive when he brushes his thumb across it, and it takes less time for him to get close.

He strokes a bit faster, moans a bit louder. He has no idea how long you plan to keep him here, but he still anticipates the relief of falling off the edge.

“Let go.”

Leehan pulls his hand away from his cock and clutches the couch instead while willing his legs to stop shaking. He’s helpless to disobey you, but he groans as his orgasm escapes him a second time.

“Hm…I dunno. Something’s not right.” You tap a manicured nail against your chin in thought. He can never understand how you’re so composed in moments like this, like it’s a normal evening. If you’re turned on, you don’t show it, and it makes Leehan flush with shame. “What do you think, baby boy?”

He huffs out a laugh at the question. How is he supposed to know? But you’re looking at him expectantly, so he scrambles to come up with something. “I mean– Usually I’m, like, in bed, I guess. Thinking about you, imagining you, smelling you…” God, don’t get him started on smelling you.

You hum thoughtfully and lift off of the table. In seconds, you’re hovering over him, flashing him a devious grin. Your hips are so close to straddling his, and you slap his hand away when it reaches up to touch your waist. You hold yourself up by the back cushions with your arms on either side of his head. He’s trapped, and suddenly, everything else in the room is overshadowed by you.

“Is that right? You think about all the dirty things you wanna do to me while getting off to the smell of my perfume?”

Of course you’d know his weak spot. You’re so close to him and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t get to touch you. Your perfume is invading his senses, and flaming hot desire coils in his abdomen. He squeezes his eyes shut to prevent them from rolling into his skull as his hips twitch into the air.

“Touch yourself, Hannie,” you say sweetly.

He takes a deep breath and grabs his cock again. He’s known to leak like a faucet, especially after meeting you, and his hand is covered in sticky white within the first few seconds of stroking himself.

He knows there’s raspy noises falling from his open mouth, but he can barely hear them over his heart pounding. The way you take over his brain is overwhelming and he can hardly think. Your lips graze his neck, and the skin litters with goosebumps despite the hot air between the two of you.

If he opens his eyes, he’s got a face full of titties, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that despite every cell in his body telling him to look. He wants to be good for you and hold out until you give him permission to stop, but it feels so good that he’s speeding his hand up.

“Ha– Ah, fuck–” Slick, sloppy sounds fill the room as he works himself to the edge for you.

“Let go,” you whisper in his ear. His hand rips away from his cock and grips onto his thigh instead, getting it wet and gross with precum. It takes what feels like an eternity for him to back away from the precipice this time. Fear runs his blood cold when he realizes he almost didn’t last.

He’s always good for you, can edge himself for as long as you'd like. He doesn’t know why he’s sensitive today, especially after spending a week beating it.

You pull your face out of his neck, and he slumps against the couch. You smile at the sight and caress his cheek. He melts into the touch, but you pull away to card through his tangled hair instead. You used the grip on his strands to tilt his head back so that he’s looking up at you.

“I do think you were louder that time. Moaned just like you did in those recordings.” He opens his mouth to say something, but loses his train of thought when you plop down on his lap.

“Fffuck–” he moans, voice all pathetic and high-pitched.

“Stay still,” you warn when his hips buck into yours, and he tries so hard, but even the soft fabric of your skirt is too rough on his sensitive dick. He struggles to keep his eyes open, but he’d rather die than take them off of you, so he blinks through the tears pooling in his waterline. The action causes the tears to trickle down, and the air is cold against his wet cheeks.

You stay like that until his breaths are more even and he’s somewhat calmed down. He lets out a displeased noise when you lift off of him and sit back on the coffee table.

“C’mon, Hannie. I’m not done with you yet. Let me see.” You push his legs apart with your knee. He looks down with you, and the sight makes him burn with embarrassment. He’s leaking so much it’s soaking into the couch, and it’s another sight he has to squeeze his eyes shut to get away from.

“W-what, are you j-just gonna–” he swallows thickly, clears his throat, and tries again. “How long are you gonna make me do this?”

You tilt your head and smile at him like you aren’t melting his brain into goo. “However long it takes for you to learn your lesson.” Leehan whines a little in protest.

“Just wanted you to look at me, missed you so much.”

The look in your eyes softens and you lean forward to place a heartfelt kiss on his lips. “I missed you too, Hannie. So. Much,” you say, cupping his cheeks and pressing more gentle kissing around his face. “It was so hard to focus at work when you kept sending me those treats. But bad boys still have to take their punishments, yeah?” Leehan sighs longingly and nods, resting his head against the back cushions, and reaching for his cock when you instruct him to start over.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

By the fifth denial, he’s a shaking mess, falling apart at the seams and only holding himself together by your command. He’s done for the second you flip your skirt up, slide your panties off, circle your clit right in front of him. You’re so close but so far, and he’s definitely losing his mind.

“Please– N/N, let me…could fuck you so good,” he begs helplessly, deep voice strained and words stringing together. It’s the first time tonight you actually look interested in what’s happening, and he can’t figure out where to look–at your pretty face as you make yourself feel good, at the wetness leaking out of your pulsing heat, at the way your tits shake when you tug at your nipples. You’re biting your lip to keep quiet, keeping your pretty noises to yourself. Leehan thinks that’s the cruelest part of this punishment.

His hips are fucking up into his hand in a sloppily, a stark contrast to his usually controlled thrusts. He’s not easy to turn into a mess, but you know him better than he knows himself. You know his limits, know that he won’t cum unless you tell him to, know how badly he needs your forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just fuck me, please?” But you’re not looking at him. Your eyes are focused on his cock drooling all over his legs, at the way it twitches when he’s close. Your hips twitch, and your cunt drools on the table, and his mouth runs dry. He’s too delirious to figure out if your reactions are because of him, if he’s doing good for you.

“Stop, pretty boy.”

His hand trembles as he pulls it away from his dick and flops it against the couch. He gasps harshly, heaves loudly, and more tears stream down his face as his hips chase friction that’s already gone.

His head is leaning against the back cushions and lolled to the side, but he’s still watching you touch yourself. His mouth hangs open from all of his pathetic begging, and there’s a thin trail of saliva pooling in his mouth and dribbling onto his t-shirt.

His eyelids are so heavy, but he watches brainlessly as you tease your opening, dip a finger into the heat. It comes back out drenched in creamy white, and he has to dig his nails into the cushion to stop himself from grabbing his dick without permission.

You pull your hands away from your body and straddle him again. He nearly goes cross-eyed when your bare cores touch. It’s so wet, and his entire body shivers with need.

“Aw, Hannie. Look at me. Tell me what you want.”

“Mm, want– wanna taste you, wanna fuck you so bad.” You giggle, and he loses himself somewhere between your sparkly eyes and shiny lips.

“Wanna taste me?” You reaffirm, and he nods dumbly. You straighten his head up and cup his cheeks between your fingers and thumb. You make him watch as you use your free hand to repeat the motions, gathering your wetness on your finger, pushing it through your opening and pulling it out.

You whimper out freely this time, and the sound is so pretty and sinful Leehan wishes he could tattoo it on his brain, wishes he had recorded it so he can hear it again later. Your hand forces his lips to pucker and his mouth to open, and you press your wet fingers onto his tongue.

Leehan’s eyes roll again, and his eyebrows crease as the taste of you, the smell of you invades his senses. You always taste so good, so sweet to him.

His eyes focus on you again, but his vision clouds and his hips buck up against you. You slide against him so deliciously, but it’s over too soon when you slide your fingers out of his mouth and pry your hips away from his.

You wipe your wet fingers on his shirt and remind him to look at you, but he is already looking at you, has barely torn his eyes away from you in the last thirty minutes.

He’s completely awestruck, and maybe a little delirious when he swears he can see the faint halo hovering above your head. He tries to tell you how perfect, how much of an angel you are, but his words come out jumbled and unintelligible.

“Do you have a color for me, baby?”

“Mhm, fuck– green, n-need you so bad. ’m so sorry, p-please, you look so beautiful, t–”

You interrupt him by pressing your lips against his, and Leehan’s convinced he would’ve been talking for the rest of his life if you hadn’t. He’s pretty sure he melts into a puddle of goo when your lips collide, yours so perfect and plush against his. Any function his brain is still performing shuts down immediately, and you have to handle the kiss by yourself, because his lips are slack and useless against yours. There’s a string of saliva connecting the two of you when you pull away from him.

“I think my pretty boy’s at his limit, hm?” You ask, and he doesn’t really know what you’re saying, but anything sounds good coming from you, so he nods and watches with his jaw on the floor as you stand up and pull your skirt off. You pull his shirt off as well, and you’re both bare and vulnerable but safe in your own world, just as Leehan longed for.

You cup his cheeks again and hold his face so he can look up at you as you sink down on his cock, and the noise he makes when you bottom out is broken and pitiful even to his own ears. He knows he must look so fucked out and stupid, but you’re looking at him with so much love in your eyes that he’s sure he looks beautiful anyway.

You wrap around him so well, your cunt is so tight. It feels like he’d forgotten how it feels to be buried inside you, and to be experiencing it for the first time again has to be parallel to some sort of spiritual ascension. Leehan doesn’t know what he did to deserve it, but he does know he’d spend an eternity here if you allowed it.

Your hands move to grip his shoulders, and you make the most heavenly face of ecstasy Leehan has ever seen. You lift your hips to slide him out, and bottom out again. Your cunt’s sucking him in so greedily, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up.

“I’ll let you cum if you fuck me, pretty boy,” you say like you read his mind. You grab his lifeless hands and place them on your waist, then grip the back of the couch again. He gets the message clearly, holding you in place as he jerks into you. His thrusts aren’t coordinated at all, and it’s out of pure habit when he angles his hips to fuck right into your sweet spot.

“Fuck yeah, Hannie. That’s so good, you’re so good,” you moan out, and he uses strength he barely has to aim for that spot, to hear those words from you again. On a particularly hard thrust, your eyes flutter closed.

“Look at me, N/N. Please– look at me,” he begs, voice cracking, and when you do, your eyes are glossy, tears pulling in your waterline. It’s so hot, and finally, your attention is his, and he’s making you feel good, but he’s not gonna last like this.

“You fill me up so good, Hannie. Make me feel so good,” you say breathlessly, eyes locked on his. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna fill me up nicely?” And he’s nodding, pitiful whimpers falling from his lips, whatever you say.

You trail a hand up his abdomen, to his chest, and tug at his nipple. The rush of pleasure he feels is so intense that the knot in his stomach is fraying and snapping so quickly he can’t even warn you, but he tries through strangled gasps: “Cumming, ‘m, fu–”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It takes Leehan a while to come back to Earth. He’s so tired he can barely move, but you kiss him until his mind returns home. After asking if he’s okay five times and getting five verbal “yes’s,” you clean the two of you up and lead him to bed.

It’s still when he speaks again, eyes searching for yours in the dark room, “I really am sorry, Y/N. I should’ve been more considerate. I respect your work so much, I just got so lonely…” You smile at him softly and reach a hand up to rub circles into his back.

“I’m sorry you were so lonely, Hannie. I should’ve managed my time better, should’ve taken your feelings more seriously. From now on, I’ll keep work at work, and after my project, we can both take time off and go on a vacation. How’s that?”

“That’s perfect,” he says, and means it wholeheartedly, falling asleep with a smile of his own.

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a/n : FUCK THIS TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE LOL i reread it three times pls lmk if there r still typos <3